#But i was planning on quitting at the end of the school year anyways so like idrc if im gone earlier than that

[spiribia]

i really, really love the role madame morrible has in the book to elphaba. without question she was a conniving puppetmaster who spied on the girls quite extensively in their school years, and it's implied that she underhandedly orchestrated the butterfly effect wave of events that caused elphaba and glinda to become roommates, and further the events that caused nessarose to become their third roommate, in an effort to form them into a team specialized to carry out her bidding. she tells them she's put a binding spell on them, though it's unclear whether this is actually true. even years after elphaba's left the university, refusing to further partake in morrible's game, she lives with the doubt that maybe her friend and her sister accepted morrible's offer. for the rest of the book, there is no certainty on the impact this offer had on their lives, because the three of them do end up becoming figures of prominence - was this on their own, or the product of once again invisible strings? the book never answers. elphaba goes to assassinate madame morrible, but 'fortunately' for morrible, a bunch of children flock around her at that time, and elphaba is unable to make the hit -- then fiyero is killed by the gale force in retribution for her attempt. did morrible know, did she plan this, too? elphaba gets older and it becomes easy for all the points of her bitterness and loss to orient themselves toward the person who made her feel entirely stripped of her agency in her youth. maybe the reach did extend so far and maybe it didn't. maybe she is only scapegoating morrible for the scattered, innumerable causes of her pain. if she can just kill madame morrible then she can solve this. she is paranoid towards her sister, her friend. nessarose and glinda are like Honestly that stuff with morrible when we were younger was weird but it was probably nothing. elphaba frets over morrible's binding spell. she wants to go home and throw her grimmerie and broom in the fire when she thinks about how morrible could be influencing anything. she falls out with glinda, noted that it's as though the two of them are stuck because of the influence of a spell. she imagines morrible with young women shackled to her. she goes to kill morrible. morrible has already died. elphaba has not even the agency over morrible in this. elphaba picks up a trophy and smashes in morrible's skull anyway. it's an anticlimax. it's not on the news. she goes around trying to crow to her friends that she killed madame morrible. they're weirded out.

[kohakhearts]

lately ive been thinking a lot about goh’s parents. and all i have to say is . theyre kinda bad <3

[saniwa]

My application for the job im currently working was rejected so i might not have to quit at all and just be out of a job naturally after my emergency hire period is over 😳

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ my life with you (that’s way over now)

synopsis. some people get drunk calls from their exes, maybe even flowers with hand written apologies. you get a knock on your front door with two random kids and a murder case

length. 3.0k words (once more it was supposed to be short)

contents. exes to lovers, ex boyfriend! suguru, gn! reader, slightly deviated from canon (he doesn’t kill the entire village + doesn’t defect), slightly a fix-it fic, blood, murder, child abuse + neglect (canon events with suguru and the twins), angst to slight fluff with hopeful ending (pretty much happy tbh), mentions of family + kids, suguru pretty much being a broke and depressed lil guy lollll

notes. idk what this is but it was written for me i just wanted to write it so here. take it and look away

right before you graduate, you and suguru break up. you don’t want to, but he insists it’s only fair—he can hardly be there for you the way you need him to be, he says. something’s changed in him, it has since that day last year. but still—you don’t want to break up.

so you argue, he stays firm, you cry, he doesn’t change his mind, you break up, he leaves, and the world momentarily collapses.

it’s the way things work, you suppose. they don’t quite always go the way you planned. you graduate not long after that, leaving him behind to throw yourself into work while you toe into the baby steps of adulthood. real adulthood—the jujutsu world has a way of thrusting you into that faster than normal, anyway.

by the time it’s late summer, you get your first apartment. it’s a rundown place—the bathroom tiles look dirty no matter how much you scrub, the walls haven’t been repainted in what seems like decades, and the thermostat never works properly to feel like what the temperature indicates.

but it’s yours—you leave jujutsu high fresh into the real world, paying your taxes and buying your groceries all while you exorcise curses for a living. barely an adult, barely getting by, barely alive as you get up each day and live.

and then suguru comes knocking on your door half past midnight.

“hey,” he says nonchalantly, like there’s nothing wrong with standing there—but you know him better than that. you can hear that detachment in his voice as he stares between your eyes, but not quite in them.

“you—” you start, staring at him incredulously before you decide to give up. there are no surprises with suguru, not anymore you suppose. you don’t really know him anymore. “suguru, it’s midnight,” you sigh—and that’s when you see them: two small children that can’t be much older than five.

bruises are clear as day on their arms, even while standing in the darkness outside. there’s also the slight swollen curve of their eyes, and you can’t help but notice how they’re practically skin and bone. children who have probably not yet even lived for five winters, and you almost wonder if they’ve been through more than you have in you’re entire lifetime.

suguru clears his throat before you can stare at them any longer.

“this is nanako,” he gestures at the blonde, “and this is mimiko.” the brunette one seems more shy, curls behind his leg further as her name is uttered.

you don’t know what to say, so you settle for smiling—you’re not sure if it comes out too genuine, but you try. it’s all you can offer, really.

“hello,” you hum for a moment. and then you turn back to suguru, “it’s midnight.”

“i know.”

“you should be at school grounds.”

“i know.”

“suguru,” you sigh, eyeing the blood stained on his cheek. you don’t like where this is heading. there’s a sick feeling twisting in your gut, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling.

bile. you can taste it. something’s not right.

“where did you find these kids?”

“on a mission,” he says simply, “village heads were keepin’ em locked in a cage like animals. can you believe it?”

again, that casual tone. it almost as easy as humming your favorite tune, as smooth as your skin on freshly washed sheets, as quiet as the first day of snow when the world is still. but something about it is hollow—something’s not right.

“why’d you bring them here? instead of school? shoko should look at them—”

“i told them they’d be safe here.”

they’d be safe anywhere, you think. as long as suguru’s there too. as long they’re under his watchful gaze, nothing could hope to beat down on their youth like it already has their whole lives. but you don’t say that—something tells you he won’t believe you.

maybe not right now.

you don’t look at him. you can’t. something’s not right, but there are children present. so you throw on your best smile and open the door wider, offering them to come in.

your apartment is small, just one bedroom and one bath. there’s hardly enough food for yourself for tonight, you still have to go grocery shopping this week. the missions were lined up back to back to back—but that’s just life as a sorcerer, you suppose. most days you hardly have the energy to eat more than a few apple slices when you return home anyway.

you wave your hand at your place dramatically as you say, “come on in, ladies. your humble abode awaits.”

they giggle slightly at that—it’s the first time suguru hears them laugh. you have that effect, he knew you would. it’s why he brings them here and not there. and…well, there’s a more complicated issue at hand. but that’s for later.

right now…well, for right now, he lets you guide them to the bathroom.

“you have money on you right?” you ask. he blinks, staring at you for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

“spent the last of it on cigarettes this morning.”

great, you think, before sighing and trudging over to grab your wallet as you press a few crisp bills of cash in his hands.

“here.”

“what’s this for?” he raises a brow.

“go buy them clothes,” you look at him like he’s stupid. he might be, in all honesty. just a little. “i’m not putting them back in…those once they’re all cleaned.”

“wha—i’ve never shopped for children before,” he gapes, “and i don’t know what size they are, or—”

“figure it out, suguru,” you say tiredly. it’s half past midnight—by now, you’d be passed out from your mission. he seems to take the hint. “and bring some snacks too. should be enough.”

“fine,” he grumbles—and then he’s walking out the door.

for a second, it feels familiar watching him leave. but then you decide not to dwell on it—there are much more important matters at hand.

you turn to the two girls before crouching in front of them with a gentle smile, “who’s ready for bubbles?”

——————

nanako and mimiko have never had a bubble bath before. you decide to let them taste the first tendrils of youth by splashing in your tiny bathtub while you find suguru for some much needed answers.

he sits on your couch, shirt wrinkled and hair falling loose and blood still staining his cheek as he hunches over his legs, elbows resting on his thighs as he thinks. and thinks. and thinks and thinks and thinks.

you wonder about what—what could be plaguing his mind? a lot you’re sure, but this isn’t suguru. not the one you know, at least.

the one you knew, the voice in your mind hisses—do you really even know him at all anymore?

“so,” you sit on the opposite side of the sofa, curling your legs under yourself as you eye him from the side, “care to explain?”

“i killed them,” he mutters. you go still. “the village heads. i did it without hesitating. that’s bad, right?”

“well fuck, suguru,” you breathe, restless, “that’s certainly not good.”

“i had a reason,” he argues, “all i needed was one.”

“there’s nothing that excuses murder—”

“oh, but we can excuse locking kids in cages, is that right? why? cause they’re sorcerers? they’re not—they’re children.”

“i didn’t say that,” you rub your forehead. this is all too much. too, too much.

being a sorcerer is too much. being in front of suguru is too much.

you finish your third year with a broken heart and graduate in spring—at one point you’d hoped graduating wouldn’t change anything between you and your friends, between you and the boy you loved. everything would be the same, even if you’d leave the place that held you all together—you’d still find a way back to each other, you liked to think. but then it all changes before you can even comprehend.

haibara is dead. nanami is hardly coping. gojo is everywhere but here. shoko is in high demand. suguru is hardly present even when he’s right in front of you. nothing is the same and you don’t think it ever will be. you lose the one thing you count on being yours forever, and now, he’s right here again. but not really here—not with you so much as near you.

suguru has killed people, sitting on your couch with you while the two children he finds are bathing happily in your bathtub.

there’s some irony in that—maybe in a perfect world, suguru and you would sit on the couch, much happier than right now, though. maybe you’d be tucked under his arm and curled into his side as you both chuckle at the happy squeals in the distance. maybe in a perfect world.

but this world is cruel. too cruel, in fact. it forces children to grow up too fast during some times and lets adults continue to be children during others. it’s sickening and all too much.

but this is the world you live in. there’s not much to change in that—not much you can change. maybe sitting on the couch with suguru is what you should be grateful for, whether it’s in this world or another.

“i came here because it’s safe,” he mumbles, quieter this time, “i don’t…i didn’t trust anywhere else.”

something tells you he’s not talking about the kids. you look at him for the first time that night—really look at him. you take in the lost weight, the sunken cheekbones and the bruised under eyes from the lack of sleep. the cracked lips from being chapped and the dry hair that’s lost its normal shine.

something’s not right—you won’t be able to mend it, but you think you can keep it from getting worse.

“it is safe here,” you murmur, nodding in assurance, “but you can’t…i can’t let you do that. not again.”

“what? kill people?” he snorts in dry amusement. it’s quiet for a bit—you open your mouth a few times like you want to say something, but nothing ever comes. he finally decides to fill the silence. “i don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore. people shouldn’t kill. but some people shouldn’t live.”

“i think jujutsu is supposed to save people. not everyone will deserve it, but i suppose we wouldn’t be much better than them if we used it for anything other than that,” you whisper. he looks over at you at that, peers at you deep in thought as he contemplates your words.

“that’s funny,” he chuckles, “i used to think that too.”

“what changed?”

“everything.”

“then change it some more,” you shrug, “until you think it again.” he looks at you incredulously at that, eyeing you like you’re crazy.

“you’re an idiot,” he scoffs.

“says the killer,” you scoff back. you look at him this time, in the eyes and full of conviction, full of promises you couldn’t make before but fully intend to keep now. “don’t kill anyone else and i’ll help you. with those kids, i mean.”

“you want to co parent with me?” he chuckles.

co parent—the word makes your stomach twist. even after all this time, after all the hurt and pain, suguru is easy to imagine that with. he’s easy to imagine anything in the future with, really. he’s always been perfect like that, but you’re starting to realize there’s a lot more imperfections to him than you initially thought.

but it’s okay, you think. if you didn’t stop loving him before, you certainly don’t stop now. blood on his hands or not, he’s yours—even if he doesn’t want to be.

“don’t say it like that,” you murmur softly, hugging your arms around yourself, “please.”

you let yourself be vulnerable for just a moment—not because you want to, but because he needs to know. he needs to know how unfair he’s being and how patient you are with him despite it all. you deserve that much.

“sorry,” he mutters—he has the decency to look away and drop his smile.

“you don’t kill anyone, and i’ll look for a bigger place. deal?”

“for us…all?”

“yes. just until you figure it out, i’ll help you out with them. and then you’ll responsibly use your paycheck as a full time special grade sorcerer and maybe send a few checks my way to say thanks to my good will.”

he chuckles at that, shaking his head. “i’ll repay you,” he hums, tapping his foot. he does that when he’s nervous, you still remember—you could never forget anything about him. “i…i owe you, anyway.”

it’s quiet some more. you don’t know what to say, and quite frankly, you don’t want to say anything at all. but once more, he fills the silence for you after a while.

“what if…” he starts, “what if i want to co parent with you?”

“you dumped me,” you point out, unable to hide the bitterness any longer. it cracks from your tongue through your words like honey that went dry. “remember that? cause i sure remember.”

you’re an adult now, just barely, but an adult all the same. you should handle this the mature way—but you’re still young. still hurt. still blanketed in the fresh wave of nostalgia that leaves you aching with grief.

so you let yourself be bitter. suguru can handle that much after he left you to pick up your shattered pieces.

“i didn’t want to,” he says quietly. “i never wanted to.”

“but you did.”

“i didn’t…you didn’t deserve to see me unstable.”

“you’re not very stable right now either,” you pinch your nose tiredly, “you killed people, suguru. but somehow you can manage to have two kids now. but not me.”

“they need me,” he defends.

“i needed you too,” your voice cracks.

you did. you needed him—and you like to think he needed you too. maybe it wasn’t perfect, nothing ever is, especially not when you fight curses and see their ugliness every day. but that’s the best part of having each other—having something pretty amidst the hideousness.

he left you with more ugly than you knew what to do with. it’s unfair, you think for a moment, unfair that two girls who hardly know him at all have more of him than you ever did. he’d never abandon them—that much you know for sure.

you’ve laughed with him, held him and wiped his tears and kissed him under the moon until it became the sun. you’ve seen him with his hair down and his guard lowered. you’ve seen him in every way possible but in the end, he walked away.

they’ve seen him for less than a day and somehow, he’ll be there forever. there’s something unfair about that and you hate that you’re bitter with children but the world in cruel like that.

suguru slowly inches over—it’s cautious at first, and then he fills the gap all at once. you pretend you don’t feel the way your thighs touch.

“i need you too,” he admits, voice small. there’s a small, shaky crack that eats away at your heart, trying to gnaw into the raw part. the easy to reach part. the part you shouldn’t let him see anymore. “i…i always needed you. i’m sorry.”

“we were supposed to need each other,” you sniffle.

“we do,” he slowly slumps his head onto your shoulder. you let him stay there—don’t dare move a muscle in case he pulls away. “you’re the only thing that keeps me stable. i don’t think that’s fair.”

“needing someone isn’t unfair, suguru,” you scoff.

“okay,” he grabs your hand, squeezing. for the first time, he lets it all go. lets tears slowly slip from the corners of his eyes as he slumps into your side. he cries for riko. for kuroi. for satoru and the time he lost him for a moment. for their youth. for haibara. for not being enough even when he shouldn’t have had to be. somewhere amidst all that, your arms wrap around him and he’s pulled into your chest—that familiar feeling of your fingers threading into his hair makes the world start spinning again. “i need you,” he chokes.

“okay,” you say shakily, nodding slowly as you let yourself hope, “as long as you don’t stop this time.”

he buries his face into your chest, and you kiss the crown of his head.

cruelty is an unstoppable force. your love for suguru is an immovable object. neither is going anywhere, but perhaps they can coexist.

“satoru’s gonna have a massive headache when he explains this one to the higher ups,” you snort after a while.

he laughs into your shirt, real for the first time in a long time. “i’ll buy him something sweet. should make up for it,” he hums. and then he looks up, smiles innocently as he asks, “wanna lend me some cash? i’ll pay you back when i’m a responsible handler of money.”

“you’re hopeless,” you chuckle, “but at least you’re here.”

————— BONUS —————

“okay,” satoru starts, holding his hands up in surrender as he stands before the higher ups. damn old geezers, he thinks. “so he did kill a person or two…but—”

“there is no excuse,” a voice hisses.

“he didn’t mean it,” he huffs indignantly, “it was an accident. those can happen sometimes.”

“what—”

“he’s going through a phase, okay? let him work through it, he’ll be fine.”

“that’s not—”

“i’ll let him off the hook this time,” satoru grins, pushing his glasses up his nose as he shrugs, “he’s got a family now, y’know? kids and a spouse, and they’re looking for a home. can’t take that away from them.”

“he’s not even married—”

“it’ll happen eventually,” he insists, “so let’s all just calm down, yeah? great, thanks!”

“gojo—”

“see ya!”

he walks out, flashing an obnoxious peace sign at the higher ups as they hiss at him to return as he’s walking out. that takes care of that, he thinks, as long as suguru doesn’t make his life harder and kill more people, he can handle it—you did promise him kikufuku if he does.

satoru is babygirl defender no. 1 ain’t nobody doing it like my guy ��🏽 he would be loyal to you while you were in jail no doubts

[woso-dreamzzz]

Second Time's The Charm XI

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: An old face watches a match

She wasn't as young as she once was.

Teaching hadn't originally been her first choice as a job but after finishing school and spending a few years bored senseless as a receptionist, at age twenty-five, she'd made the change to teaching children in their first year of school.

Now, twenty-five years later, she was getting older and her students seemed to be just as wild and excitable as they always had been.

This school trip hadn't exactly been planned by the school, not fully anyway but a generous donation from who knows where had her and a few other teachers taking a three classes of wiggling and excited five year olds to a home match for the Barcelona women's team.

"Let's get to our seats now," She says, trying to get everyone in her class seated and happy but it's like trying to fight a group of wet cats - a losing battle.

"Miss, he pushed me!"

"Miss, I want to sit with my friends!"

"Miss, I can't find my bracelet!"

"Miss, my Mami gave me spending money!"

"Miss!"

"Miss!"

"Miss!"

She sighs to herself, rattling off instructions in a way that only a practiced teacher could.

"Lucas, stop pushing people. We use our nice hands with people. Isabella, you can sit next to your friends if there's space. Ana, your bracelet got put into your bag. Pedro, spending money can be used at half time. Now, everyone needs to sit down or else they won't start the match!"

It takes a little while to get all the kids settled and she briefly thinks about how this would be a hell of a lot easier if the school had more people who could chaperone.

It's a fleeting thought because she knows she can't do anything about it now but still, it would be nice.

Nice like it is now to watch one of her old students walk out as one of the most well known footballers not only in Spain but the world as well.

Alexia Putellas, the captain of Barcelona, leads her team out - head held high and back straight. A far cry from the little girl that used to slump in her seat in class and cry when someone took her ball at breaktime.

There weren't many students that she remembered so well - a handful that have ended up in politics, one that somehow ended up at the UN and one whose arrest made national news.

But Alexia was one of the good ones, helpful and polite most of the time.

She can remember though, with startlingly clarity the second day of classes.

It had been her second day as a teacher ever and she'd been supervising the playground at lunch when Alexia had appeared and dragged her off.

She'd dragged her all the way to the slide where you'd been waiting.

"You have to marry us, Miss," Alexia had said, eyes wide and incredibly earnest," We want to get married."

"Er..."

"You have to, miss," You'd joined in," Because we're in love and my Papa always said that people in love get married."

She'd been speechless then but still done as you and Alexia said, a little charmed by those two little girls begging to be married under the slide.

Alexia was easy to follow now, her exploits known throughout the country on and off the pitch. You'd faded though and your old teacher wasn't quite sure where you'd ended up.

Likely something successful and important.

Even as a little girl, you'd had a good work ethic. Work before play, always, was something you'd abided by.

She could see you as something important now. Your parents were doctors, she's pretty sure, so maybe you followed in their footsteps.

It would suit you, she thinks as she watches Alexia slam the ball into the net for a third time today.

Barcelona wins.

But that's entirely to be expected.

What isn't expected though, is for the staff from the team to invite the classes down onto the pitch to meet the players.

"Carlos, don't run! Mia, don't yell over someone! Lucas, again! Stop pushing people! Everyone will get a turn!"

"Some things never change then."

She turns with a smile. "Alexia."

"Hi, Miss."

"You don't have to call me that anymore."

Alexia's brow wrinkles. "What else would I call you? You've always been my teacher."

"You're an adult now, Alexia. You don't have to call me that anymore if you don't want to."

"But I do. Is that alright?"

"That's okay. So long as you want to."

Alexia beams, the same big smile she had as a five year old when she would come to the desk with a picture she drew of herself in the Barcelona kit.

It's still strange to see that exact image in real life.

"I'd like to introduce you to one of my daughters. This is Maya."

"She's beautiful."

"Mi Amor is just changing our other daughter. They'll be out in a minute."

"It's nice to see that you're doing so well. A good job. A nice family."

"We have dogs too! And my wife's old cat! She built me a house, you know? My wife, that is. Not her cat."

It's nice to see that Alexia's word vomit from her childhood hadn't changed much either. She was so stoic and quiet most of the time but any topic that drew her interest could be (and would be) talked about for hours at a time.

"That's nice to hear, Alexia."

"And we bought a villa in Greece for our next holiday! And I bought her this nice matching bracelet and necklace set! But! You can't tell her because it's going to be a surprise!"

"A special occasion?"

Alexia looks affronted at the idea. "I don't need a special occasion to show my wife how much I love her! Just my love!" She turns, glancing over her shoulder and her whole face lights up. "Oh! Amor, you're back! Look, Miss Rivera is here!"

Miss Rivera looks over to the tunnel where you have emerged from, a babbling baby on your hip and a rock of a ring on your hand.

"Oh, hi, Miss!"

She sighs. "I told Alexia that you two don't need to call me that anymore."

You frown. "But you've always been our teacher. What else would we call you?"

"Miss, this is our new baby Elena." Alexia puffs out her chest proudly. "My wife gave birth to her. Doesn't she look good for giving birth a few months ago?"

You slap her on the shoulder before pressing a kiss to where you just slapped. "Don't listen to her, Miss. She'll take any excuse to talk about it."

Alexia nods solemnly. "It was very scary because there were complications but she's doing so well now. Both Elena and my wife. Right, Amor? She's a doctor, you know. Very successful."

Again, Alexia seems to preen like a peacock as if you being so successful and so smart brought her such pride.

"You've both been very successful," Miss Rivera says," I'm so proud. A long way from that marriage under the slide, huh?"

You grin, intertwining your fingers with Alexia's.

"But still married."

[bakugoushotwife]

a/n: omg heyyy i make my grand return with my humble offering to @ohkento 's reddit theme collab!! i also have a piece for shouto coming up next, but here is the first one!! i took a while off after kinktober so if this is bad....lie to me!

warnings: dark content. nsfw. no minors. yandere theme gojo, no physical harm to reader, baby trapping, threats (not to reader), female reader, breeding, pentration, oral (fem!receiving), reader is kinda dumb lol.

summary: STORYTIME: I (28M) CAN'T STOP BREEDING MY GIRL BEST FRIEND (28F)!! it's a serious problem...i'm really reaching my breaking point here. i've been in love with this chick since high school and she keeps chasing other guys...but fucking me when the dates go wrong, help!

it’s been his dirty little secret since his years at tokyo tech. you’ve always been a looker, never were you short on attention from lesser men that aren’t worth your time—and yes, that includes when geto crushed on you all through the second year of school. but they never were quite what you were looking for, and every night of passion or attempt at a meaningful connection always ended the same—dialing up your closest confidant satoru to come console you and stuff your cunt full and wipe your tears–to make it better, like best friends do. 

satoru was all too aware of your little predicament, because he had struggled with the same issues–except he realized his fate years ago and was determined to have it. you are his and his alone, no matter how many scrubs that try to take you from him. if only you would open your eyes. you were obviously hopelessly in love with him, of course—that’s why no one could compare! and that’s why you always turned your teary eyes and pretty pussy to him after yet another date gone wrong. he knew he was the only cure, and he’s given up on hoping you’d see the truth for yourself. 

he tried to play the patience card, licking your tears off your face as he pounds his love into you, telling you that you’re worth so much more than those guys you keep letting break your heart. he tried being the nice guy that holds you after yet another promising prospect never texts you back–buying you dinner and bouncing you on his cock until you were crying from pleasure instead of heartbreak. each time, he buried his load in your womb until it was spilling out around him—hoping to give you no other choice but to pack your bags and move onto his estate to further the gojo clan with the very man at the head of it, but it seems your ovaries were just as stubborn as you are. he didn’t know how much more of this he could stomach—just waiting to be your knight in shining armor while laying in bed at night, staring at the pictures of you, both lewd and cute alike while wondering just how long it would take to have you laying beside him in his bed instead of the pixels on his phone screen. 

he’s had enough. it’s clear his plan isn’t working as designed. you must be on birth control—which is both irritating yet complimentary to him. of course you wouldn’t let these bums knock you up. is it insulting that this applies to his seed too? of course, but then again the whole dynamic was rather insulting wasn’t it? fucking other men and crying to him about it when they aren’t the perfect man for you. no shit—no man will ever know you like he does. none of them could ever compete with the life he could give you if you would just face the music. he doesn’t get it either. why bother? why look elsewhere? obviously you’re attracted to each other—so why won’t you make the next natural jump and stop it with the drama-packed weekly bachelorette episodes?

that’s okay. it’s really fine. satoru is such a good friend that he’ll help you, like he always does. he would simply help you to the conclusion that he wants and then everything can proceed according to plan! it shouldn’t be too difficult anyway, you’ll be calling any moment now! you had a date with yet another sure disappointment that gojo knows will desert you as soon as the date is finished. he’ll be dry and boring after the promising conversations you had in the days leading up to the date—you’ll be confused yet again—and the guy won’t pay either, set for split-bill city. gojo knows all of this because he’s ensured that’s what happens, of course! and this is the thirty-sixth man he’s had to pay off to show up to the date and forget about you. a price he’s more than willing to pay no matter how high, though it’s definitely added up over the years. and you know what—now that he thinks of it, none of them deserve you because their weak nature and corrupt morals. he’s been proven right every time, each one of these bottom feeders would take the money no questions asked—maybe that was due to his threats of horrific death if they so much as answered a text message from you again, but who could be sure? 

this one was especially easy to pay off, too. he didn’t even think twice about taking the money. it almost makes gojo mad. he clearly wasn’t heartbroken to walk away from you, and god you deserved so much better. you deserve a man that is willing to pay off any and every suitor that comes into your life just to make you his. you deserve a man so crazy about you he can hardly recognize himself. you deserve…well, him. he’s devoted himself to you for over a decade and it’s time for that to pay off.

your unique ringtone gets him out of his own head to answer, and of course, you’re crying and asking him to come over. pretty girls like you never learn, huh? that’s all forgiven though, as he is a teacher and it’s his passion to help you understand. 

“of course sugar. i’ll be right over. mhm–don’t mention it. that’s what friends are for.” he hums to you over his end of the phone, picking up his car keys to make it to you in record time. you’re your same beautiful self as you answer the door and welcome him inside, though he can see the tear tracks staining your face. it makes him pout a little at the sight no matter how used to it he is. he hates that you let these cretins upset you like this. 

“hey baby.” he pouts sympathetically with you, ducking under your arm to gaze around your familiar living room for any signs of a man he hadn’t yet heard about. he exhales a deep sigh when he finds none. he’s got his hands in his pockets, lips tightened in a knowing grimace. “so what was it this time? no—let me guess: split the bill and then he let you walk home in this weather?” 

you close the door after he’s entered with a heavy sigh. your bleary eyes fix on your hand still clasped around the doorknob, “yeah.” you tug your lip between your teeth and turn to face him. you didn’t have to answer him, for he already knew. it was borderline routine at this point and you were already embarrassed enough. you draw your arms around yourself to feel your own warmth, shaking your head. what was wrong with you? you used to be pined after, wanted—and now you couldn’t even get non-sorcerers to call you back. you haven’t had a second date in years, nor had an orgasm that wasn’t satoru’s handiwork. but even he didn’t want you permanently. you were a good friend and an even better fuck, that’s all. you knew it was pointless to yearn for him, sure he felt nothing other than his ever-present sense of duty and loyalty every-time he took your pain away–no matter the lies that poured out of his saccharine lips to do so. your sad eyes fix on his face, letting your plump bottom lip bounce out from your teeth’s trap. he smirks softly, cock rising because it knows exactly what that look means. 

but unfortunately for you, he won’t just hold you in his arms and promise that you’re worth so much more than you let yourself believe. tonight, he’s going to take what’s rightfully his—and his plan is already working beautifully. you never look away as you walk from the door to him, bracing your tiny and ineffectual hands on his chest. “what’s wrong with me, sato?” you pout, batting your long lashes up at him. his heart could stop just from that look alone. the comfort of his large hands covering yours soothes you already, making the tension drop from your shoulders. 

“you’re naive.” he answers, eyes as bright as ever as they glow like fireflies in your living room. if you were going just by the expression on his face, you’d think he said something kind or even funny, the way he grins softly and blinks his white lashes down at you in wait of your reply. you’re sure you misheard—every other time you asked this question he always said, “maybe you’re just too pretty, huh? ever thought of that, sugarplum?” 

“huh?” you tilt your head to one side, watching his expression shift to amusement. “naive? wh-what do you mean by that?” 

“well, if you weren’t so naive, you’d know, now wouldn’t you?” he pokes his tongue between his teeth, tucking his hands behind his back while you still lean helplessly against him. he likes feeling the weight of your body on his, and he’ll like it even more when he knows it’s a permanent thing. “you’re on birth control.” he states, and your confusion sets in even deeper. your brows furrow, but you nod. 

“yeah? what about that makes me naive?” you posit, used to his antics for the most part. you’ve been around him far too long to mistake his bluntness as an attack to you, even if it stings just a touch. though you did ask, and you have used him as your sexual relief and shoulder to cry on for years now. maybe he’s fed up with lying to save your feelings. 

he looks around for a second, humming. “where is it?” 

you also know better than to question him. if he’s asking you these questions it has to be for a reason—and you don’t have to understand him in the moment. just do what you’ve always done and trust him, support him on and off the battlefield–and never hesitate. it could be the difference between life and death. you learned that on missions together years ago. 

“in my nightstand?” you tilt your head to the other side. he has to admit your astonishment is adorable. he smiles down at you, cupping your cheek lightly. his fingers are so long that his thumb rests on the corner of your lips, fingertips brushing back your hair. 

“go get it for me.” he says as if he asked you to pass him the remote. you narrow your eyes to really study him—and then you see it. the teeming rage, the simmering crazy behind his eyes as they look at you. he is the most powerful man in the world, even if you were scared, there was nothing you could do but obey. but you trust him. and you nod. you turn to pad off to your bedroom and the clicks of his expensive boots follow. you’re used to the butterflies tickling your stomach as you lead him to bed, but you know something’s different this time. you feel like you’ll puke butterflies. but nonetheless, you pull the drawer of your nightstand open and fetch the little foil pack out of it, only a few pills missing from this month’s prescription. you turn to face him with it, mind racing on what he could possibly be doing. knowing him, he’s toying with you–trying to make you as nervous as possible and all this worrying is for no good reason. 

he sits at the edge of your bed, seemingly watching you with interest. he’s happy that you’re humoring him, that’s for sure. not even the faintest hint of protest. maybe you’re not as naive as he thought. in fact, your effortless obedience has his the crotch of his loose hakama’s tightening quickly. your heart jumps in your throat at the sight of him as it usually does—satoru gojo is far too beautiful to be in your house, supposedly telling you why you couldn’t keep a man. the black compression shirt was nearly criminal when it was wrapped around his perfect body. 

“good girl. now flush ‘em down the toilet for me.” he beams, blinding white teeth baring to smile at you. it was a simple request, really. he needed you to stop taking that poison and to stop entertaining the idea of other men. 

“why?” you swallow harshly, voicing your underlying suspicion. 

“don’t you trust me, baby?” he replies with a quickness, tilting his head to mirror yours. he’s doing well to keep himself together–you don’t understand his love for you yet, but he’ll take care of that. he’s a teacher, remember? “that stuff’s not good for you.” 

you hum. the side effects have been brutal, but you’re hardly in the spot for a baby. you can’t even get a boyfriend, much less a baby daddy. “yeah…i know. sucks taking it. guess i could get an iud or something instead.” you think aloud, voice becoming distant as you turn your back to him and dump your pills in the bathroom attached to your small room. you really undersell yourself. you could have been his bride eight years or so ago and been living large. but he’s going to fix it now. his jaw clenches at that declaration, and you feel him watching you the entire time—the doorway a straight shot from the spot he sat in on your bed. 

“no.” he says simply, the lightheartedness gone abruptly. it sends a shiver down your spine, makes your brain alert to the changes within him as he stands and cages you into the bathroom, broad arms stretching to block off the doorway. 

no? he doesn’t want you to protect yourself in any way? that seems a little ridiculous, but maybe he had a good reason. “satoru…i can’t get pregnant right now.” 

“why not?” he asks, looking over your little body nearly trembling from the darkness of his cursed energy growing more oppressive, nearly sucking the air out of the room. your heart pounds, more confused than you were at the start. 

“because i’m…single?” you try carefully, not sure exactly what you were dealing with here. satoru has always been so happy-go-lucky, even when he shouldn’t be. you remember begging him to talk out his stress so that he didn’t explode right after suguru left. so this anger you see set in his features shocks you, his bright and clear sky-colored eyes are clouded and murky, more cerulean than you’ve seen before. his brow is set and you can see the muscles twitching in his jaw. but he’s still smiling, and that for whatever reason is still real. 

“there’s that naivety again, princess.” he licks his teeth, shifting his weight from foot to foot. you look like a deer in the headlights, and he’s giddy at the rush that gives him. you’re finally in his grasp. “you’ve never been single. not since hmmm let’s see, march fifteenth, 2006.” he grins at you–”which makes all this dating real offensive, sweetheart.” 

you want to laugh, but decide against it considering his unpredictability. you shake your head instead, backing yourself to the wall. “what on earth are you talking about? we’re friends–”

“friends that fuck!” he laughs a strained snicker, straightening his posture. “and make sweet hot love, of course. friends that cuddle on the couch and have sleepovers. come on. we’re both adults, don’t insult me. you love me! which is great, because i love you too. i love you so much i’ve made sure that no one could steal you from me.” 

your brows must reach your hairline at that. “stop, satoru. don’t say that! you can’t mean it–fuck, you’re supposed to be married to a kamo or zen’in girl so you can keep making powerful gojo’s right? isn’t that what you always said in school?” 

“you’d give me powerful gojo’s.” he smirks, breaking the barrier of the bathroom’s threshold by stepping closer to you, leaning down to be on face level. “i was only trying to make you jealous sugar! just like this whole stunt you’ve been pullin’, dating around to try to find someone that makes you feel like i do? tch, hahahaha—it’s impossible!! just stop it, be mine and be happy like you should be.” he grasps your chin with a surprising gentleness given his unhinged and maniacal laughter, smiling down at you with something you recognize as his power-trip going off the rails—but. 

but you’d be lying if you said you were scared. he’s declaring his love for you in the most profound way possible, however crazy it–and he–may be. and you’d be lying if you said he didn’t absolutely see right through you. he has the six eyes after all, you should have known he knew what you were trying to do. you were trying to numb the pain of never being his…but you were actually manufacturing that whole scenario. you’re the only girl he’s ever seen, and it’s clear from the desperation mixed in with the insanity—he needs you. 

you reach back and flush the toilet, letting the little white pills circle the bowl and disappear entirely. satoru gojo has always been insane. you’ve seen it firsthand on many missions and battles against curses and sorcerers alike. it just surprised you to see him turn that look upon you–but now you know it was just to get your attention. 

though you don’t doubt what he’s capable of, you have no intention of pushing him to find out.

his eyes go from crazy to ravenous in seconds. you’ve accepted his proposal with hardly any effort and he intends to show you the difference between his sweet hookups and his passionate need to claim the woman of his dreams. 

“so you…scared off all those guys?” you ask, raising a brow as your face still rests in his clutches. he swipes his thumb over your bottom lip, nodding vigorously. 

“sure did, princess. i was trying to let you figure it out on your own…” he sighs, brushing your hair back behind your ears as his eyes scan over your body again. he needs to feel you. “but you’re not a quick learner, hence why i’m on plan b.” he winks, scooping you over his shoulder moments later. he puts you on your bed, the short walk made shorter by his teleportation. he’s just too impatient, brain swelling with the flashing images of you in traditional wedding attire and round with his heir. it all feels within reach now, and he has to try it out now. “gonna show you how bad i love you–you’ll never go anywhere else.” he mutters, lanky frame swallowing up your body, hips pinning yours to the bed beneath you. “you’re gonna give me a gojo and you’re gonna look so fucking good doing it.” he mutters, lips attaching to your neck reminiscent of the way they have a million times. though this time, there’s intention behind it—or well. this time you’re aware of the intention behind it. 

in all your times together, his dirty talk has been contained to praising your body and how good you feel to him. his incantations to knock you up has your heart beating funny and wetness pooling between your legs. you make a soft gasp sound for him, elongating your neck to let him leave real marks of possession where you’ve previously resisted. your body writhes and twists under his as his teeth knick and nip bruises into your skin. he’d spell his own name with them if he could, even a ring and a baby wasn’t enough in his eyes. he needs the world to know you’re his, that you’ll always be by his side, that you were born to be his. 

“that pesky birth control’s gonna have to wear off though–so we have time to get married before you get pregnant–if that matters to you.” he moans at the idea, hands sliding under your top to push it over your head. his mouth moves to suck the swells of your tits once they’re exposed to him, humming out his satisfaction at the warm skin. your head digs back into the mattress—mind absolutely drunk on his affection and devotion. it’s all you’ve ever wanted and now it’s right here, and from the man you’ve always wished you could have—how could you ever deny him again? 

your hands pull at the fabric on his back, hips bucking up for a source of friction. he breaks away from marking up your chest to bare his to you, throwing his t-shirt into some corner of your room to be forgotten about until tomorrow. this wouldn’t be your room much longer anyway–you’ll be moved into the estate within the next two days, he wouldn’t be able to live without you now. then he’s pushing you up towards the headboard, ripping off your lounge shorts to reveal those cute panties he knows you wear when you’re trying to impress him. color him fucking thrilled at your puffy pussy lips indenting the fabric around them, making him groan at the sight. he thumbs at your clit through the cotton, sparkling eyes flickering between the growing wet spot in your panties and the adorable scrunches of your nose and the pinch of your brow from the pleasure he’s dishing out before he’s even really touching you. you’re so cute he can’t pace himself, needing to consecrate your importance to him in the best way he knows how. 

you help him get you out of your underwear, shamelessly spreading for him after hundreds of rendezvous—you’ve lost your shyness and he loves it, loves seeing your neediness for him in the glaze of your pretty doe eyes and the way you swing your hips around to beg for his attention. “tell me you love me.” he hums, nosing apart your pussy lips. his cock throbs at the scent, and you feel goosebumps break out across your skin at his command. 

“you’re the one for me, sato. i love you.” you whisper so intimately he can feels his cursed energy pulsing like the rest of him. he groans, submerging his face in your cunt with a genuine pleasure you’ve only seen from him. he loves eating you out, loves the taste of you on his tongue—loves how your noises only rile him into fucking the bed, whining and grunting with his own neediness that he could only unleash once he’s properly readied you for it. 

“you taste so fucking good baby…so sweet down my throat. get loud, i don’t care it’s an apartment. you’ll be moving out soon anyway.” he smirks, latching onto your clit to make your legs jolt like they always do. it makes him giggle every time, and the vibrations feel even better against your sensitive bundle. he rolls it around his tongue, letting his index finger explore the wetness he’s helping you create. he pokes into your entrance, knowing how violently you craved something inside. his thoughts are confirmed by the way you clench around the digit, whining and bucking into it for more. he’s more than happy to oblige, finger fucking you with two long and thick fingers while his tongue works overtime on your clit. he loves watching you at this part, enamored by your face as your hips involuntarily jump from the bed, smacking your clit into his nose instead of his skilled tongue. 

your entire body is warm, jerking like you’re receiving electrical shocks from the pleasure satoru reigns down, gasping and sputtering on the edge of orgasm just a few minutes after he started. it’s always like this with him–though this time was special because you knew your life was changing before your very eyes—that satoru’s energy was growing so rapidly because he’s letting go of all kinds of stress and pent up frustration and anger. “please—wanna cum please sato–”

“daddy. i’m daddy now. ask daddy nicely.” he chuckles as he leans his head against his free hand, curling his fingers into the spot he knows so well just to watch your mouth drop and eyes widen in absolute blissful shock. you nod–brain fuzzy from his constant teasing and his new nickname. 

“daddy!! yes—daddy! please, oh my god—daddy let me cum!” you sound so good when you say it–it’s all he ever wants to hear for the rest of his life. he can’t wait for you to make him a real daddy. 

“oh missus gojo can do anything she wants.” he coos as if he didn’t make you expressly beg for permission, lowering his face to your cunt again with precise licks, shoving your hood back to absolutely abuse your sensitivity. your legs develop a mind of their own and you’re spiraling over the edge before you can understand what he’s doing. floating balls of color cover your vision and you scream his name just as loud as he wanted. he grins in satisfaction, hands resting on your knees so he can push himself forward for a sloppy kiss; slick covered lips sliding against yours so you could taste your own essence via his tongue shoving its way in your mouth with a hearty moan. you match his eagerness, making out with satoru with more passion than ever before–because you both have the security of knowing it’s real this time. he maneuvers his hips until his leaky tip catches on your hole, his breath shaky as before he shoves in like he always does. you squeeze him so tight it’s not hard to believe why he lost his fucking mind over this pussy. he truly would do anything to make you his, thank god you didn’t put up a fight. 

“fuuuuck–” he whines a little, finding it nearly impossible to even move in the first place. you feel the burn of his fat and lengthy shaft parting your walls like they routinely do, mouth dropped wide open in pleasure. satoru hovers inches away from your face, so close that the ends of his hair tickle your forehead as he picks your legs up—holding you by the back of the ankles before he sets a brutal pace. his nuts clap into your ass from the way he moves, length curving just right to fill you to the brim. he doesn’t even have to try all that hard to bottom out against your cervix, finding the way you moan and twitch so adorable. “this is why you have to be my wife—i need you for life, sweetheart.” 

your eyes widen at that declaration–though you already realized that satoru would never let you out of his clutches again. you knew he would marry you as quickly as possible based off of his desire to also knock you up as quickly as possible—but hearing him call you that, first missus gojo and now his wife, it all felt so real. his cock slamming into you only drilled it in further, his eyes glowing brighter than you’ve ever seen. the air also grows its own electric field, suffocating and thrilling all at the same time. your eyes are glued to him, entranced by the feral look on his face. you try to hold onto him, but he’s moving so punishingly you can’t even get your hands to work, mind and body on cloud nine. “you’re so beautiful. i’ve been in love…with—you–for years now.” he says in between deep breaths, trying to contain all his focus into drilling you unconscious. 

you shudder, feeling that was completely in the realm of possibility. his balls ache, the need to breed you just as heavy as all the other times you’ve come to him to clean up every mess of yours ever since he’s known you, the need to make you his in a way no one else would be allowed to—it’s carnal. he can’t stop until you’re full of his seed and it takes. he needs to see your breasts heavy with milk to feed his baby from. he needs to see you struggle with the weight of your belly so he can urge you to rest and let him serve you like you should be. he needs to see what the combination of your love looks like; what these last ten years of hard work would become. he’s painting your insides white and still pumping just as fast as before, watching your face tick and jerk with the pleasure you’re experiencing as you tip off of your own peak. he grins, shoving that cum as deep as it will go. he stops when he knows your body can’t take anymore, cuddling you to his chest until you fall asleep safe and sound. he has the whole world in his hands, and that’s never been enough. now he can sleep with a genuine smile on his face. he knows your body will regulate in a few months off the birth control—but that doesn’t mean he can’t get plenty of practice until then. after all, he has a problem! he has to breed his pretty little girl best friend turned future wife. 

[mimimui]

how they spend nights with you

includes: bakugo, midoriya, todoroki, kaminari, shinso, monoma

tags: gn!reader, you're in the same class as them, established relationship, fluff, i used to strictly be a bnha author (??!) and i just missed them so much

a/n: it's been over a year i think (ᵕ—ᴗ—) my writing might be ass rn but i promise i'll lock in soon!!!!!!!! i genuinely miss writing, but as soon as i entered a higher level of education, i lost all free time and couldn't continue writing. but ur fav hc writer is back!

katsuki will not stay up later than 8pm on a school day because he cares a lot about his rest, but if it's a weekend or you're on break, he'd be willing to stay up later with you.

he doesn't care much for the dorm rules, especially since you're his partner anyway, so he will definitely stay in your room past curfew. curse those who catch him in your dorm late at night. what are they going to do?

he's up for whatever you want to do, honestly. movie marathon? self-care night? cleaning your room? he'll do it all. he might jokingly complain here and there, but he's truly relaxed around you. he'll spend nights however you'd like.

everyone knows that izuku isn't one for sleeping early. your nights consist of watching him train outside the dorm building, or sitting on the floor of your room exchanging notes.

if you wanted to do something fun, he wouldn't refuse, but he'd be going back to his own room at the end of the night. not because he doesn't want to sleep with you, he just does it out of respect. your rooms' beds can only accomodate one person comfortably, and he doesn't want to disturb you!

he's more of a morning person, really. so if you'd like a jogging partner or a breakfast buddy, he's up bright and early with you.

he knew that getting into a relationship meant spending a lot of time together, but shoto hasn't received much affection before, so he wasn't quite sure where to start.

when you first suggested spending nights in either of your rooms, he didn't see any problems in it. he quickly got used to this routine, and he always expects to see you at his door after dinner time. you mostly only talk about the happenings of the day and your plans for tomorrow.

neither of you initiate sleeping together at the end of the night, but he isn't opposed to it. he's thought about it, of course, but he won't say anything until you say something first.

denki will match your energy in anything. if you want a quiet night, he'll just be by your side as you both scroll through your phones. if you want a more fun night and do something, he'll be up and at 'em as much as you are.

he is the best person to try new things with because he's just as curious as you. if you want to sneak around the kitchen to make up a new snack, he would be your little flashlight to help you out.

he definitely glows a little in the dark, so if you want to sleep with him, you have to cover him completely with a blanket. he jokes that it's because he's the light of your life, and even if that's true to you, you'd never let him know it. he might glow even brighter.

hitoshi has a hard time falling asleep, so he's grateful for your company every night. he usually asks you to come to his room, but if he feels especially awake, he'd go to your room. you mostly just watch movies together until both of you feel sleepy enough to lie down on bed.

the first time you asked to sleep in the same bed, you didn't think it'd be the last time you'd ever have to. sleeping together is a must now. you have no choice, he loves sharing a bed with you. he thinks it's a good thing to have someone warm next to him as he tries to sleep. it's comforting.

fyi, he has one pillow on his bed. just a single one. so... good luck!

neito needs to see you every night. every time, without fail, he will always end up at your door. you don't even need to do anything together, he just wants to be in the same room as you.

he won't sleep with you if you don't want to, but he's always excited when you ask him to. not because he's planning anything malicious, he's just really happy to be so close to you. to hell with the rules, he will stay in your room if it's the last thing he'll do.

he will probably get in trouble for staying in your room more than in his own, but he wouldn't care much for it. you're his partner, so it's worth getting into a little trouble.

thanks for reading (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

One Last Time

Summary: Three years ago you buried Logan on the day you were supposed to get married. When your friend calls you, telling you that she saw Logan at the bar she was at right at this moment, you had to check for yourself if she was right. Not knowing that the night would end with you in his bed. And a surprise weeks later you were not ready for.

Pairing: Logan x fem. reader

Rating: E

Wordcount: 1.8k

Warnings: angst, grief, alcohol, smut (unprotected sex), masturbation, cum play, unplanned pregnancy, me setting myself up for a part two of this fic that I haven't planned because all my brain thinks of is having babies

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Full Masterlist // Marvel Masterlist

You didn’t believe your friend when she called you to tell you she had seen him. 

Logan. 

Because it could not have been him. 

You had buried him almost three years ago on a rainy day. The day that was supposed to be your wedding day became the day you had to say goodbye to the man that had saved you in so many ways. 

You met Logan almost seven years ago.

He quite literally saved you from getting smashed by a car that had been thrown at you during an attack where you found yourself at the wrong place at the wrong time. 

He found you after, when you were about to be brought to the hospital for your broken leg, asking if you’d be okay. 

You didn’t really think you would see him ever again. 

But Logan became a frequent visitor during your time at the hospital. He insisted on bringing you to the appointments after, stating that had he been quicker, your leg wouldn’t have been broken. You stopped reminding him after week three that if he wouldn’t have been there you would probably dead. 

It would take him almost a year to ask you out on a date. 

And the rest, as they said, was history. 

You had been in the middle of your last wedding dress fitting when the call reached you. Charles Xavier, a mentor and friend of Logan, had called you to tell you to come to the school where Logan was working right away. 

It was there that you learned that Logan had been killed during a mission.

The whole year after was a blur of heartbreak, anger and grief. 

It had taken you a long time to learn to live with the hole in your heart, that Logan’s death left in you. 

So there was no way it was Logan that your friend saw at the bar. 

You found yourself getting dressed in the dead of night to take a look anyway. 

A very anxious cab ride later you found yourself walking towards your friend, hugging her as she told you he was still sitting at the bar, getting drunk. He’d been drinking since she got there three hours ago for her date. 

„And you’re sure?“ You asked, voice tight. She nodded. 

„There even was another dude there earlier and he called him Logan. I… I wouldn’t call you if I weren’t sure baby,“ she said and you nodded, taking a deep breath. 

You weren’t even sure why you were here. 

Was it because you had to see with your own two eyes that your friend was wrong? Was it because deep down you still clung to the hope that everything that happened in the last three years had just been a bad dream?

You didn’t know. 

So you weren’t prepared for the way your heart almost stopped once you stepped inside the bar and found him sitting at the bar. 

You felt your friend squeeze your hand as you slowly walked towards him, not sure what you would actually do once you stood in front of him. Instead you sat down three chairs down from him, ordering yourself a beer before you allowed yourself to fully look at him. 

He was older than your Logan. 

Greys in his hair and unkempt beard. There were deep lines around his eyes. He looked tired. Yet the moment he turned his head, his eyes finding yours you couldn’t deny that somehow this was Logan. 

Just not the one you knew. 

He raised one of his eyebrows as he looked at you and you blinked at him, processing your thoughts, thankful when the bartender interrupted your inner panic rising and set your ordered beer down in front of you. 

Thanking him with a nod you picked up the beer, bringing the bottle to your lips, taking three big gulps. 

Closing your eyes, your head lowered as you took some deep breaths, you were startled when you heard his voice. 

„Do I know you from somewhere?“ 

His deep, familiar voice making you tear up immediately.

Opening your eyes you looked up and turned your head to the side where Logan was looking at you with curious eyes. 

„I don’t think so. I knew another you though,“ you said, before you took another sip of your beer. 

Even in your drunken mind you knew that when you would wake up the next day you would regret this. 

But right now Logan was kissing you and you did not care how much it would hurt the next day. 

You were both drunk when the bar closed and because you didn’t want to part form him just yet you kissed him as soon as you were outside, before you told him that you’d really like to spend more time with him. 

Now you were in the shady motel room that he apparently called home, your back against the closed door, his lips on yours.

Parting your lips for him his tongue slipped into your mouth while his arms picked you up to pull you closer, his hands on your ass. He carried you over to his bed, lips never leaving yours as he laid you down. 

With your hands in his hair you kept him close, breathing him in. 

„Wanna ride your cock,“ you mumbled against his lips and he groaned. 

„Sure you can take me, princess?“ He asked and you grinned. 

„You wanna check?“

He chuckled as he knelt over you, making a show of taking his shirt off, your eyes hungrily taking him in. The thought that he had more scars than your Logan came to your mind, but you fought that thought down. 

You sat yourself up and got rid of your shirt and bra too, the growl that came from Logan’s lips making you shiver. He was the one who took off your jeans and panties before he got out of the bed and took the rest of his clothes off, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Sucking your bottom lip in you parted your legs for him, one of your hands slipping down your body until your fingers dipped between your folds, playing with yourself. 

„She’s desperate for it, huh?“ He asked, chest heaving as he looked down at you. 

„So desperate to be filled,“ you sighed.

„Show me,“ he demanded, voice hoarse and you arched your back as you pushed two of your fingers inside with ease. 

You watched him watch you, one of his hands wrapping around his thick cock, pumping it slowly as you fucked yourself with your fingers. 

„Shit I can hear how fucking soaked you are, princess,“ he said, finally getting back on the bed. He watched you bring yourself closer and closer to an orgasm, his hand wrapping around your wrist to stop you just before you fell over the edge, making you whine in protest. 

Looking at him you gasped when he brought your finger to his lips, sucking them clean, humming like it was the most delicious thing he ever had. 

Before he could react you were straddling him, pushing him on his back, your hands grabbing both of his wrists, pressing them against the mattress as you felt the tip of his cock slip inside of you. 

With a cocky grin he looked up at you, his lips parting as you slowly let yourself sink down on him, his thick cock filling you inch after inch, stretching your inner walks until you were seated on his hips, his cock resting deep inside of you. 

„Fucking missed this,“ you moaned, closing your eyes before you began to roll your hips. 

It wasn’t long before he got out of your grip, one of his hands on your ass, moving you on top of him, his other hand playing with one of your tits. 

„Feels fucking perfect,“ he groaned, thrusting up into you and you had to stop yourself from crying out loudly. 

„Oh you liked that, huh?“ he teased and you nodded, sucking your lip between your teeth. 

„None of that,“ he said, his thumb pulling at your lip, tilting your head down so you had to look at him. 

„Want to hear you when I make you cum,“ he smirked, both of his hands grabbing your hips before he began to pump himself up into you, holding you still as he fucked into you in quick deep thrusts. 

„Oh shit,“ you cried out, your hands come to rest on either side of his head, keeping you upright. 

„Can feel her squeezing me,“ he grunted and you shuddered. 

„Cum for me, princess,“ he grunted, somehow even fucking up faster inside of you, his cock twitching. 

It was moments later that you exploded, your orgasm taking over your body, legs shaking, arms weakening as you fell down against his chest, his arms caging you against his chest as he fucked you through it before he came too, fucking you full of his cum. 

You wrapped your arms behind his neck, your face resting in the crook of he neck as you both panted against each other. 

You must have fallen asleep like that because the next time your eyes opened the room was dark and you were laying with Logan behind you under the covers. 

He was breathing calmly behind you and you let the familiarity of this situation allow to wash over you. Having spent countless night like this in your shared bed with another Logan that was now gone. 

You felt the tears before you even realised that you were crying, taking some deep breaths, before you slowly got out of the bed, careful to not wake him up. 

Allowing yourself a long look at this Logan you wondered what his story was, shaking your head to yourself before you began to get dressed. 

The sun was just rising when you quietly opened the motel door, taking one last look at him before you slipped out of his room. 

Calling yourself an uber you allowed yourself to shed some tears, feeling conflicted and confused about the last twelve hours. 

Without the intention to ever see him again, you did not check for a way to ever contact him again.

Not knowing that only six weeks later you would not only move into the same apartment complex he was moving into.

No, you’d find out that just because your Logan was infertile it did not mean every Logan was, as you stared panicked at the positive pregnancy test on the first night in your new apartment. 

[janeyseymour]

A Piece Of Paper

Summary: You and Melissa have been dating for a while. Marriage isn't necessarily the plan. Who needs a silly piece of paper to solidify the relationship anyway?

WC: ~4.2k

After dating Melissa Schemmenti, second grade teacher at Willard R. Abbott Elementary School, for about a year, the two of you decide to finally jump the gun and move in together. It took a bit of convincing on your end, but eventually, she welcomed the company and companionship that you brought with you. Living together didn’t mean you were married after all. 

You’ve been living together for two years now, dating for three. It’s a nice situation to be in. Neither of you are particularly ready to get married, each of you for your respective reasons. The topic had come up when you moved in, and you came to an agreement that you were more than satisfied just being partners… life partners. The weekday routine of waking up together, occasionally showering together before getting on with your days, breakfast, heading to work, coming home to your person, and then relaxing before heading to bed and starting the cycle all over again is warm enough. But your weekends are always slow, steady, full of comfort and contentedness to do everything or nothing at all. This relationship that you have with Melissa is all you’ll ever need in life- married or not.

It’s a day where you have off and your girlfriend conveniently has a professional development day that, while you are still more than content with your lifestyle how it is, Melissa’s thoughts and views begin to change. 

Because Ava doesn’t have anything against you (you would even venture to say the principal of your girlfriend’s school likes you), you’re able to enter the school during lunch hours and share a meal with your girlfriend and her coworkers. They all adore you, but it does confuse them how someone like you could be dating someone like the redheaded woman. You’re calm and level-headed, and they’ve seen Melissa in her fits of rage. Regardless, they support your relationship wholeheartedly and eagerly.

“So,” Jacob hums loudly as he practically stares down his two coworkers that he’s closest to. “Does anybody have any big news to share with the group?”

You just roll your eyes in good nature at the secondary education teacher. He’s always so nosey, but he means well. You steal another bite of your girlfriend’s lunch, despite the fact that you have the exact same dish in front of you.

Janine and Gregory each share a look, before the shorter woman breaks out into a grin. “We actually do have some news… Thank you, Jacob.”

Jacob looks quite proud of himself, and it’s immediately clear to the rest of the room that this was an orchestrated act.

“So, Janine and I were talking last night, and…” Gregory nudges his girlfriend.

Janine holds up her left hand, and there’s a sparkling ring sitting on her ring finger. “We’re engaged! We’re getting married!”

Immediately, the group of teachers erupts into cheers, shouting their congratulations. It’s all a bit hectic for a few minutes as everyone tries to get a glimpse at the rock before it dies down.

“Damn, Eddie,” Ava looks him up and down once she’s seen the ring. “If I had known this is what I could’ve gotten, I woulda flirted with you way harder than I did.”

“And I would have happily reported you to HR,” Gregory replies with a satisfied smirk. “But thank you. I did what I could.”

“As you already know,” the second grade teacher smiles and claps her hands together. “Abbott is family to us, so of course you’re all invited to the wedding. We haven’t set a date yet, but we’re thinking sometime next year?”

“We’ll all be there, sweetheart,” Barbara puts in warmly. “We’re all very happy for the both of you. What a wonderful step the two of you are taking.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Janine so excited, and that woman is always practically bouncing off of the walls with energy.

But then the naive and in love woman looks to you and Melissa. “When do you think the two of you will be getting married?”

“This is your day,” you tell her gently. “Let’s keep the attention on you.”

“But I’m curious!” Janine argues. “I mean… I would love to have a double Abbott wedd-”

“Yeah, no, kid,” Melissa cuts in. “I love ya, don’t get me wrong, but I would rather die than have a double weddin’.”

“Besides,” you say as you lay a gentle hand on your girlfriend’s knee. “We don’t really see a need to get married. We live together, we’re happy together, and we don’t necessarily see the need to have a piece of paper solidify our relationship. But we are truly so happy that the two of you have decided to tie the knot.”

The rest of lunch is buzzing with questions about the engagement and talks of what Janine has already mentally planned for what she and Jacob are describing as ‘the wedding of the century’. Gregory just looks at his fiancee with a love in his eyes that you recognize as the way that Melissa looks at you. Every once in a while, he will interject his opinion though because some of Janine’s plans are a bit over the top.

“Hun, we can’t afford that,” the man says quite a few times. “Not on our teacher salaries.”

His objections don’t deter her in the slightest. She just smiles at him and nods along, claiming she’ll find a lower budget option with the same amount of pizazz. You listen, quietly amused, while your girlfriend takes in the conversation around her. For once, she doesn’t offer up any sarcastic quips. You chalk it up to her not wanting to ruin the moment for Janine and Gregory, but what you don’t know is that Melissa is deep in thought about engagements and weddings, marriage. The way that you so casually explained that you probably would never be married struck a chord in the redhead. She almost sees it as a challenge now to get married.

After about fifteen more minutes of chatter, the teachers have to find their ways back to their classrooms for the rest of the day to prepare and go through the rest of their data while you have to find your way out of the school.

“I’ll see you at home?” you ask sweetly.

When your girlfriend doesn't quite respond, you set a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Honey? I’ll see you at home?”

Only then does Melissa seem to understand that you’re speaking directly to her. “Y-yeah. I’ll see you at home, mi amore.”

She kisses you warmly, and then you grab your purse and exit, calling goodbye to your girlfriend’s coworkers as you make your way out.

You’re lounging on the couch with your book in hand when Melissa comes into the house from work. She kicks off her shoes, and she’s practically straddling your lap before she even drops her bag on the floor next to you.

You kiss her back passionately before pulling away with a giggle and a rosy tint to your cheeks. “Oh!” you giggle out as she continues to chase your lips. “My love, not that I’m not enjoying this, but what did I do to deserve this greeting?”

She doesn’t answer, instead just kissing you with desire and hunger- she’s being greedy. You can’t do anything but give in to what she wants, but air quickly becomes a necessity.

Her eyes are blown wide with lust for you, but you know you have to get her to talk to you before you can do anything else. “Baby? What’s going on?”

“I’m just so damn in love with you,” she mumbles as she starts to graze your neck with her lips and teeth. 

That’s all you need to hear before you allow her to lower you to a laying position on the couch, throw your book haphazardly, and have her way with you.

It’s a bit later that your legs are still shaking just slightly, but you’re clean and your clothes are back on. Your girlfriend just nuzzles into your hold, humming as she cards her fingers through your hair gently.

“My girl,” she whispers as she dots a few sweet kisses to your head. “Mine.”

“That I am,” you chuckle softly, still in somewhat of a haze after the mind-blowing couch sex. “What’s got you acting like this?”

“Just a day,” Melissa tells you as she kisses you again on the lips. Then she sighs. “Can we just call for delivery? I’m exhausted, an’ I don’t feel like cooking.”

You don’t quite know if she’s exhausted from the professional development day, or if she’s exhausted from the effort she just put in to satisfy you, but you hum and nod your agreement.

“Chinese?”

“Chinese,” you agree.

As you’re waiting for the food to come, your girlfriend decides that she needs to shower. You lounge in the living room, feet tucked beneath your figure, when your phone begins to ring. It’s your mother. Of course it’s your mother. With a heavy sigh, you reach for the ringing device on the coffee table. 

“Hey, Ma,” you answer.

You can hear how delighted she is that picked up. “Hey, sweet girl. Just calling in to check up on you. It’s been a while since I’ve heard from you.”

“I called you yesterday,” you deadpan.

You can practically see your mother shrug into the phone. “And a lot could’ve happened in a day!”

You can’t help the laugh that comes tumbling out of your mouth before you begin to fill her in on your day. You tell her how you were off from work so you were able to sleep in, and then you went to Abbott for lunch with your girlfriend.

“Oh, and how is Mel?” your mother asks.

“She’s good,” you promise. “Tired after today, so she’s in the shower, but I’m sure she’d tell you hello if she were here.”

“Good. The two of you need to come up for dinner sometime soon. Your dad and I aren’t getting any younger, you know.”

“I’ll talk to her,” you promise. “Oh! You know what did happen at the school today?”

“What?” It’s clear that your mother is intrigued. She’s been to Abbott as a guest reader in your girlfriend’s class, and has therefore been privy to the redhead’s coworkers. 

Melissa exits the bedroom, wet hair still clinging to her pajamas when she hears you talking to who she can only assume is your mother on the phone. Usually, she would walk right into the room, calling out a greeting as she takes her place beside you. But something in her stops herself, and she listens to your words just out of eyeliner.

“You remember Lis talkin’ about her coworkers, Janine and Gregory?” At your mother’s hum, you continue. “They got engaged. Wedding next year.”

“Oh how wonderful for them. Let them know I said congratulations,” your mother smiles into the phone. “Hey, when can I expect the two of you to finally pull your heads out of your asses and get hitched already? I want grandkids, you know.”

“Ma,” you sigh and roll your eyes. “You know Lis and I aren’t really planning on getting married.”

“And why would that be?” your mother pries, despite the fact that she’s well aware of the reasoning. 

“Because,” you chuckle. “I’m in no rush, if at all. And Lis has done marriage and divorce before. She don’t want to get married again, and that’s more than okay with me. Besides, we live together. She’s practically my wife as is. Who says we need a silly little paper to tell us that we’re together forever?”

“All I’m sayin’ is, I want grandkids. And you could use the insurance from the school- yours is shit. You can only claim it if you’re married. And, God forbid anything happen to either of you…”

“Ma, we already have all of that sorted out,” you try to reason with your mom. “We’re in a place where we’re content. I wish you could be happy with how we’ve chosen to live our lives.”

“I am!” your mother protests. “You know I adore Melissa, but I want grandkids!”

“I can give you grandkids without being married, Ma. But don’t hold your breath. I’m in no rush to have kids, if I have any at all. And Lis is practically a mother to twenty five children as it is with her job.”

Something in your mother finally gets her to relent. “I suppose I’ll just have to move onto your sister.”

“Yeah,” you snort out. “You do that, Ma. Just don’t tell her I sent you her way.”

“Oh, you know I’ll be sure to tell you you sent me to her,” your mom teases you.

You roll your eyes. “How are you and Dad?”

Melissa sees this as a good opportunity to enter the room, with your mother telling you about her day and what she and your father got up to today.

“Ma?” she whispers. You nod, and during a brief pause, the redhead calls her greeting into the phone.

“Mel!” your mother grins into the phone. “How are you dear?”

“Just fine, Nel. Tell Rick I said hey too when you get a chance.”

“I will dear,” your mom promises. And then she’s off and telling you more about her day. She chatters on for a few minutes before the doorbell rings. It’s your food.

“Ma?” you interrupt her gently as she tells you about the chronicles of her canasta game. “I hate to go, but our food just got here, and I’m starving. I’ll call you soon, yeah?”

Melissa stands to answer the door as your mother reluctantly lets you go, but only after quite a few promises of calling her again soon- coming up for a visit.

The redhead is already sorting out your food from the bag when you’re finally able to end the phone call, and she looks to you with a smirk. “Just a catch up call?”

“Just a catch up call,” you groan. “Woman acts like she hasn’t talked to me in years when I called her yesterday. She says to tell Janine and Gregory congratulations by the way.”

Melissa nods and hands you your pair of chopsticks and food before grabbing her own. You gently drape your legs over her lap with a smile, and green eyes are rolled fondly.

“So, anything else happen once I left Abbott today?” you ask.

Your girlfriend huffs. “Yeah. Loads of bullshit, that’s what happened today.”

She launches into some story about Ava and the data analysis, how the way that they retained their reports was deplorable- a school to prison pipeline really. You can’t help but chuckle at the way she explains the details, loudly and with lots of emotion. Your eyes go soft as you remember just how in love you are with the woman in front of you. The way that she cares about her students and her employment so much is… she goes above and beyond, really.

“Oi,” Melissa nudges you. “I’m over here talking about the school to prison pipeline, an’ you’re giving me lovesick puppy dog eyes. What the hell?”

You lean up and kiss her sesame chicken stuffed cheek gently. “I just love how passionate you are about your job and your kids. It’s really admirable. I wish I cared about my job that much.”

“You know what else I’m passionate about?” your girlfriend chuckles quietly and winks at you. Then she wiggles her eyebrows.

“Jesus, Lis. Always thinking about sex,” you roll your eyes, but a smirk is evident on your face.

“You’re sitting here in booty shorts and a sports bra with your legs draped over me, and I’m not supposed to be thinking about sex?” Melissa challenges.

“We had sex before the food got here. Eat your dinner,” you roll your eyes once again as you pick up another piece of broccoli with your chopsticks. 

The two of you finish you meals in relative silence as the television plays softly in the background, your girlfriend in her head and thoughts about what had been revealed earlier that day in the staff room, and then what she had overheard while you were on the phone with your mother. 

It’s not much later that the two of you are heading to bed, and Melissa just can’t keep her hands off of you- and not in that way. You know that you were joking about sex earlier, but you’re both so exhausted you don’t even know if you could manage right now without falling asleep. Her arms are just wrapped around your frame as you brush your teeth, as you comb your hair and take off your makeup. Her chin rests gently against your shoulder blade, and you feel a soft kiss being pressed to it. She doesn’t detangle herself from you even as you make your way into the bedroom. The only time that she lets you go is when you crawl into bed. Still, almost immediately once you’ve settled under the covers does she attach herself to your side again. Her head rests gently on your chest, red hair splayed out underneath of her.

“I love you,” Melissa whispers softly.

You press a warm kiss to her temple, muttering out a soft, “Love you too, Lis,” before you allow your eyes to flutter shut and sleep to take you away.

While you’re sound asleep, your girlfriend stays up for some time thinking about everything that had taken place today. Is… should the two of you get married? Your mother made a few good points. She knows you want kids at some point, and being on her insurance would probably beat the shitty insurance that the district offers her. And God forbid something happen to her, she would want you to be taken care of- you would get the house, her belongings… everything. But what you had said was true- the two of you were practically married as is. You’ve been together for three years, you live together, you’ve been through good times and bad. You don’t need a paper to prove to the world that you love each other.

But… she finds that she wants that stupid piece of paper. Melissa realizes that calling you her partner, her girlfriend, the love of her life that she isn’t married to just isn’t enough. She wants to have the privilege of introducing you to new people as her wife, as Mrs. Schemmenti. And she can’t do that if the two of you aren’t married. Silently, she decides that she might just have to fix this situation she’s found herself in.

The two of you wake up in a warm and sleepy haze. Melissa’s arms are wound tightly around your waist, her face practically in your chest from when you had turned in your sleep. Your legs are tangled with hers, and you’ve never woken up so warm and light.

“Good morning,” you whisper as you kiss her nose softly.

She just smiles. “Waking up next to you everyday, it’s always the best part of my day.”

“Stop trying to charm me,” you chuckle. “You already got the girl, and there’s no way that my bedhead and morning breath is the highlight of your day.”

Green eyes are soft and full of love as she looks into your own. “I promise you, my love.”

You lean in to kiss her.

She’s clingy the rest of the day, like how she was last night. And while it’s not unwelcome, it isn’t quite like your girlfriend. Yes, she likes to touch you- she’s usually not all that far from you while you lounge around the house on a lazy Saturday, but today you can’t seem to escape her hold. And if you do, it’s because Melissa is up and getting you a cup of coffee, grabbing the television remote from the other side of the couch, or she’s draping a blanket over you when you shiver. But as soon as the task at hand is complete, she’s right back to you- arm draped over you, kissing your head, tracing patterns on your thigh as you read, just simply enjoying your presence. 

You let her do this in silence- you don’t mind it. But it does confuse you. For the morning, you simply chalk it up to still being exhausted from the previous day, but even a time where she should be refreshed and back to her normal self, she isn’t.

Finally, around two in the afternoon, you can’t quite keep it inside of you anymore. You have to know why she’s acting like this, and without an apparent reason.

“Lis?” you crane your neck to look at her. She’s currently sitting behind you and massaging your shoulders as you watch television.

She answers by dotting a few kisses to the slope of your neck.

“Lis,” you repeat again, and you have to fight the moan that wants to come out of your mouth. Her hands and lips are almost irresistible. “Honey.”

“I love you,” she whispers against your skin.

“I love you too,” you smile softly and turn in her arms. “But babe, I gotta ask: why are you so lovey today?”

“Am I not allowed to spoil my girlfriend?” Melissa asks you.

You chuckle and kiss her softly. “You definitely are, but… I’m not forgetting an important day for us or anything, am I?”

“You think I need a special day to show you how much I love you?” she retorts.

You shake your head. “Well, no, but-”

“I love you,” your girlfriend tells you. “That’s all.”

You chuckle and kiss her again. Although you don’t believe her, something had to have happened to have her acting like this on a random Saturday, you relent. “Okay, honey.”

You let her continue to be clingy- it’s not like you mind it. Melissa is always so hellbent on showing her tough side, and you absolutely melt at being privileged enough to see the walls come down and her heart show. She continues to shower you in words of affirmation, and the look in her eyes is a look of love, but it’s different from the usual love you see.

The two of you are cooking dinner in your loungewear when she takes hold of your left hand. She brings it up to her lips and kisses your ring finger specifically.

“Lis?”

She just hums in response before pulling you in close and continuing to tend to the pot that she’s stirring.

“Honey?” That was odd.

Melissa looks to you. “What?”

“What was that?” you ask with a raised brow.

She smirks at you before casually replying, “I think your left hand might look better with a couple rings on it, don’t you think?”

“What?” Your jaw drops at her words, spoken as if she was telling you about the most mundane things in life, not marriage.

Melissa kisses the side of your head. “I’ve been thinkin’.”

“Clearly,” you chuckle softly.

“Can I admit somethin’ to you? Without you gettin’ mad?”

Your brows furrow. “What did you do?”

Your girlfriend’s hands immediately go up in surrender. “Nothin’ bad, babe. I just… with Janine and Gregory getting married, your words about not needing a silly little paper did something to me. And then… yesterday when you were on the phone with your ma, I may have heard you tell her I was practically your wife anyway.”

“You are,” you confirm. “But I know you don’t want the legalities of it all, and I’m okay with that- I told you that when I moved in.”

“What if- what if I don’t want just ‘practically’ no more?” she asks hesitantly. “What if I want it officially, and to be able to introduce you as Mrs. Schemmenti, my wife?”

Your eyes widen slightly. “I mean…”

“I’ll put it to you this way,” Melissa sighs softly. She pauses to stir the contents of your meal again. “When… when I married Joe, I knew it wasn’t the fairytale I imagined as a kid. So when it didn’t work out, yeah- it sucked. The circumstances made it suck a lot more. But… I don’t feel that way with you. I feel like everyday is a dream when I wake up beside you. You’re the… the miracle I’ve been waitin’ on.”

Tears begin to spring to your eyes at her vulnerable and meaningful words. “R-really?”

“Really,” she whispers as she kisses your head again. “An’ I’m not sayin’ we need to rush anything, but I… I think we should think about next steps. Ring shopping, an engagement, maybe a small, low-key wedding?”

You nod against her. “I- I think you’re on to something.”

When Monday rolls around and Melissa, now your fiancee, walks into the staff room of Abbott Elementary with a sparkling ring on her finger… well, she can only smirk.

“I guess I want that stupid piece of paper after all.” And then when she sees Janine’s face, she quickly adds, “And no- we will not be having a double wedding."

TAGS:  (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead

[petew21-blog]

Friends for life

This Zack, my best childhood friend. When we were kids, we were basically inspereable. We spent so much time together. We slept over each tohers houses. Even better was the fact that our moms were best frinds. So not only they spend so much time together, but so did we. But that was 6 years ago. Everything changed when my dad died. Zack was there for me, but over time we grew apart. I had to help out my mum with my two sisters and she had to get another job to get enough money for us. Zack's mom on the other hand got divorced and found a new boyfriend. Who I heard didn't really get on well with Zack.

Me and Zack talked from time to time, but it was mainly superficial. Zack was now a very well respected guy in the school. He was always into sports. But now he was a swimmer, basketball and a football player as well. I don't know where he got all that time and energy. Even if we saw each other in the classroom we just smiled or waved at each other. Maybe even this very tiny friendship was the reason why no bullies dared to touch me. Not that Zack would every bully anyone, but if he knew that the other guys bullied someone, he always stood up for that person and ended it. And the bullies even apologized sometimes. That's how respected he was.

So yeah Zack's a jock and I am a classic nerd. Or maybe not classic. I don't really have much time to play games on the computer because of my job, but when I have some spare time I read comic books. So yeah, that makes me a nerd I suppose. And I do quite well at school too. Maybe not the PE, I kinda suck at that, but I get by.

Present time

Me and several other classmates were assigned to start decorating the halls for upcoming prom. Most of my classmates were really excited for that, but not me. I didn't have anyone to go with. Not anyone I wanted to atleast. Ok, I'll say it. I am gay, which complicates things a bit. And the person I would really like to go to prom with is Zack. But that will never happen. Zack is 100% striaght and it would totally ruin his reputation in the school.

But that doesn't stop me from obssessing about him. I saw him a few times in the locker rooms which gave me a pretty consistent image of how he changed over the years. He was pretty much the same Zack I grew up with, but I bet that his junk is much bigger than I remember. Truth be told, Zack was the first (and only) person who I had any sexual experience with. I know it sounds sus, but he only wanted to experiment jerking each other off as most boys do at their younger years. Back then I was really puzzled and didn't know what to do. Now I just wish I could go back to that moment once again.

I was one of the few remaining students. The rest headed to the shops to get their dresses and suits. I told them to leave and that I would finish it by myself, cause I wasn't planning on going anyway.

I entered the gym to get a ladder, to help me set up the last few letters over the door. And there he was, on the other side of the room. Zack was lifting some weights I didn't even know how to name. He noticed me battling with the ladder nd hurried up to help me. I mean... wouldn't you crush about him too?

Zack:"Hey, man. Nobody came to help you with this? It's pretty heavy."

Me:"Hey, no. They all left to get their suits and all. So it's just me now."

Zack:"Oh, that's sad. You need help with something?"

Me:"No, it's fine. It's just final touches. But thanks"

Zack:"All right, man. But if you need, don't hesitate to ask ok?"

He smiled and went back to finish his set.

I was basically drooling, As I was climbing the ladder and trying to reach the letters, I stumbled and grabbed onto a light. I must have been shocked or something cause then I found myself on the floor. But I wasn't on the ground, I was standing. And on the ground was my body, unconcious.

I looked at my hands and they were barely visible. I tried to reach my body but it wouldn't accept my soul. Fuck, am I dying? I tried to call out for Zack but he didn't hear me. I ran to him and saw him lifting his weights. I tried to reach for him, but before I did I felt a force pulling me towards him. And as I was pulled away I felt something being ejected out of his body.

I opened my eyes, looking in front of me. But Zack was gone now. I turned around but he wasn't anywhere. As I looked down, I noticed I was now wearing bright red shorts, and on top of that a very sweaty torso, which definitely wasn't mine. I reached out my hands. Fuck, is this really happening? I searched the pockets and found a phone. In its reflection I saw Zack's face. Oh my god. Did I really just possess Zack's body? And where is he?

The responsible flow of thoughts was now interrupted by the two huge sweaty biceps now in the way where I usually didn't mind them. I flexed and oh my god, the tightness, the strength. I felt amazing.

I knew it was bad, but I just had to give it a try. What if I might never have a chance to do this ever again, I stuck out my new tongue and licked my new shoulder all the way to my biceps. Which also allowed me now to inhale the scent of my sweaty armpit. "This is so amazing!"

I then proceeded to touch my new belly full off abs. "How the hell did he get these?"

"Lot of working out and calorie deficit" a voice called out from the other side of the room, where I was before. And there was my body. Standing.

"Zack? Is that you?"

"Yeah. Would you mind telling me how this happened?"

I wanted to be completely honest, I swear, but I think that he doesn't need to know the part where my soul travelled to his body and was pulled by it.

"So, are we gonna try to reverse it the same way? Cause your body is really hurting from the fall and my body needs to be ready for a game tommorow. So I'm not really sure about that"

"I'm really sorry about that Zack. I mean, you're right that maybe it was my near deth experience that caused this, but I don't know if endangering our lives would allow to swap us back. What if the other one dies and the remaining one will have to keep on living the other ones life?"

"Yeah, you're onto something. Well, we're gonna have to figure out how to pass on as each other."

We spoke some more about how we were gonna live our lives without anyone thinking we have gone crazy.

"Ok, Zack. Just one question. How about... you know. Private stuff?"

"You mean my personal things at home or phone? Well that shouldn't be so bad I think. I don't have many secrets to tell or something, haha"

"No, I mean. Eventually we're gonna have to take a shower or go to a toilet."

"Oh, right. I haven't thought of that. Well, than my body is your body? I mean, I don't really like to think about somebody else using my body like that, but I know you're a good person and all, so I know you'll treat my body well. Maybe just... no sex? Could you do that for me please?"

"Zach, I haven't had sex yet even in my body. I mean, your body is attractive and all so, I know I could get a date in your body or smth, but that's not something I would do."

"Ok, thanks man. Just making sure. And also another thing. I..."

"What is i Zack?"

"Give me a second, it's kind off embarasing for me. I have to jerk off in the evening everyday. If I don't I sometimes have wet dreams the next morning"

"Dude, that's nothing to be ashamed of. That happens, Zack"

"Thanks. I know you mean well, but I just know my body. So I know you'll have to take care of that now or you'll have a very unpleasant morning including the washing of the clothes and bed linens."

I felt Zack dick in my new shorts getting hard just by hearing about this. Not only am I in the body of my crush, but he himself gave me permission to jerk off his dick. How crazy is that?

"Ok, Zack. If that's what needs to be done, I'll do it." I said it in a way to make it sound like I wasn't thrilled to jerk off his dick

"And in exchange I'll get to jerk off your dick. Do you have any other secrets I should know about?"

OH FUCK NO I am not telling him "Well... not really. I think."

"Good, then let's get to it. In case you won't know what to do, just text me and I'll help you"

I was approaching Zack's house. The one where I basically grew up secondary to mine. I knew where all the rooms were. What stuff was placed where. But that was before the death of my dad and before the divorce. Who knows what's different

I entered the house anticipating horrible things. And then a strange man left the restroom. "Hey, dipshit. Back from school already? Jesus fuck. The kids these days. Why don't you get a job kid" he left for the kitchen to grab himself a cold beer and left for the living room.

Now I understand why Zack spent so much time at school doing sports. He didn't want to stay at home longer than necessary.

Anyway, up to Zack's room. His room was not filthy, it was kind of clean, but at the same time it was a but disorganized. Some of his used clothes were lying on the ground. I grabbed one of his boxers and grabbed it to my face. This is my smell now. The smell of my dick. I inhaled and held it to my nose.

As I felt my dick hardening, I didn't waste no time and started undressing myself. Zack's small mirror didn't do the trick for me so I left to the bathroom.

"Ok, modern shower. That's new. Gonna have to give it a go"

I took off all my remaining clothes. I left his necklace on and then just stared at my new reflection in the mirror. How amazing is this?

I touched his jawline, his already growing beard, scratching my hand. His lips, shivering underneath my touch. His beautiful nose. His eyes, that now contained my soul and not his looked a bit different, but same too. I took my right hand and place it on my neck while my left hand was already enjoying the hairtrail blow my stomach.

"Oh Zack, I think you'd be the type to shave. Might do that for you to fully embrace this massive beast" and with that I lowered my right hand that was before resting on my vibrating throat and now started jerking my new dick.

"Just doing what I had been told. Haha"

I jerked faster. I was slightly moaning but not loud enough to cause suspicion with Zack's step dad. I was observing the tense muscles just working hard to get me into the state of pure euphoria.

I was getting close. I couldn't stop myself from moaning. I jerked so hard that the cum flew out of my dick right to the mirror in front of me. Is I stood there, smiling with my semi-hard dick in my hand I just saw the door swung open.

I quickly covered my dick and whole self with a towel, but even the partial view could give the viewer enough information. His step dad was furious

"What the hell you fucker?!? You're jerking off here while you could do some usefull job instead? I will have a very long talk with your mother when she gets here!"

What the hell just happened. Why is he so mad at Zack all the time. He's a student and a busy one at that. I don't know what this guy's problem is

I cleaned up the bathroom and got ready for the next time. Just the fact that I got the privilege to smell Zack's scent all the time and sleep in his bed. But having his body was a whole new level. I never even dreamed of this

The next day was horrible. I started the day with PE at school and let me tell you, that having a great body full of muscles is one thing. But having a weak will to actually do it is another. I was exhausted. I felt like I wouldn't be able to get up again after finishing

I saw Zack aproaching me in my body with a concerned look. I was beggining to worry what was on his mind

Zack:"Hey... umm how was your first night as me?"

Me:"Gotta say that the stepdad you got there is an another level of douchebag. I can't believe how you can live with that"

Zack:"Yeah, he is like that all the time. I don't know what mom sees in him. He's actually super nice to her, but seems to hate me just for breathing"

Me:"Yeah. I'll tell you later. There has been a bit of embarassing encounter"

Zack:"Actually I might ask you about something else first. Last night as I was in the bed I was trying to jerk off your dick, very nice by the way"

Me:"Jesus, don't make it more awkward than it is"

Zack:"Sorry. We'll I was trying to jerk off as I normally would, watching porn and stuff, but I couldn't. Then my mind wandered over to the guy on the video... I have to ask you and don't be afraid to answer. Are you gay?"

Me:"Yeah... I've been meaning to tell you for a long time. Well... since we're already saying everything to each other. I'll just admit it right now. I... I have a crush on you Zack"

Zack:"That was my another question. I have my head filled with thoughts. Very naughty thoughts including my body, so I am happy that you cleared this up and I am not just another self centered weirdo. But the question is. Would you let me suck my dick?"

Oh man

Another story from the inbox: Can you do a classic swap story between a nerd and a straight jock? I always find those to be super hot

Hey guys. Sorry for the great break. I was finishing my exams (I passed them all, yay) and now I am in a different country on an externship trying to figure shit out. But I do have some free time during the day and I get to write a bit about my drafts and the stories in your inbox. And thanks to everyone who texted me all the supportive and kind words :) really appreciate it

[hannie-dul-set]

나비 / NABI — THREE.

SYNOPSIS. in which you’re trying your damned best to willfully ignore your feelings for your friend of over twenty years, but— as always— life seems to have a different plan paved out for you.

PAIRING. choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRE. childhood friends to not quite friends (derogatory) to not quite friends (endearment) to lovers, romance, humor, hurt/comfort but more on comfort, coming of age, slowburn, college! au, “it’s always been you” trope, pining, tons of denial, somehow also a christmas and new year’s au, beomgyu is the only man ever, featuring a large ensemble of idols from various groups. WARNINGS. swearing, explicit language, rumors as a plot device, bullying, alcohol consumption, cheesy shit, a few makeout scenes WAHAHHAHA. WORD COUNT. 28k (out of 49k).

NOTE. whoa.....HAHHAHAHA. this was long overdue, so i saved up my yapping for the afterword. anyhow, here it finally is 😭😭😭 my blood, sweat, and tears. mostly tears. enjoy. please let me know what you think, and happy new year to all!

모기 / MOGI — ONE — TWO — THREE

#3: YOU STILL DON’T LIKE HOW MUCH OF YOUR IDENTITY HE’S STRIPPED AWAY. Your title has changed from Choi Beomgyu’s girlfriend to Choi Beomgyu’s cheating girlfriend. Such an upgrade. It’s like you have a sign with that title label hovering and pointing to your head every time you pass through a decently crowded hallway, or enter an occupied area. Like Horangnabi, for example. You’re minding your own business, sipping on your iced mocha, and the people on the next table keep snagging glances at you.

Julie shows up with a loud cough, practically slamming your cinnamon waffle onto the table. The group snaps their eyes off of you and jumps into a sudden conversation. Julie rolls her eyes. “If I hear anyone talking crap, I’m kicking them out of the shop.”

“Are you even allowed to do that?” You’re pretty sure the cafe belongs to the school. And Julie seonbae is still a student here. 

“No one’s ever here to supervise. This is my store now,” is her logical response. She takes a seat in front of you. You’re also pretty sure she’s still on duty. “Anyway, how was your break, pretty? Did you get some rest?”

Last week was the rest week after midterms, so you were able to spend the last six days at home in Daegu. Beomgyu wasn’t able to join you because he and the coding club— and this was hard to believe at first— had decided to join a game development contest hosted by TXT Inc. Shocker, you know. You couldn’t believe your ears after hearing the news from Beomgyu. 

But he crushes your feeling of pride just as quickly as he triggered it. They’re not doing this entirely out of passion and willingness, he said. The extracurriculars office threatened to shut down their club if they fail to show any tangible results before the end of the semester. 

Well, you guess if there’s anything that can get a bunch of boys to actually start properly operating their club, a dissolution threat will work wonders. They scrambled to find something they could do— a proposal to improve the MIS, events, anything. Fortunately for them, the TXT Inc. competition advertisement showed up on Yeonjun’s feed right when they needed it. Unfortunately, the deadline for the contest is mid-December. It’s now the last week of October. They’ve got like two months to cram an entire game from scratch, so for the entirety of the one-week break, they’ve been in a self-imposed isolation in the clubroom. To say that they’re on a tight schedule is an understatement. 

Which is why you’re at Horangnabi right now. To buy a fuckload of coffee for those poor, sleep-deprived chumps. Another barista walks up to your table with a dozen cups of coffee, halved into two takeout containers, and you bid Julie farewell before heading out to make your way to the clubroom.

It’s concerning how they haven’t even locked the door. It’s even more concerning how you’re met with pitch darkness the moment you swing the door open— save for the singular glow of one computer screen on the opposite end of the room.

You flick the lightswitch on. Groans erupt. It’s like you’ve just revived the dead.

“Turn off the sun,” you hear Heeseung groan from below. He’s laid on the worn out couch by the door, shifting around underneath a blanket. Looking around, you see the other corpses strewn about. “Turn it off.”

“What a mess.” Navigating through the sleeping bags on the floor (sleeping bodies included), you notice that it’s littered with a distressing amount of plastic bottles and takeout boxes. You grimace. “I got you guys coffee. Come and get it.”

The first person to be revived is Yeonjun. The sound of the containers set on the table stir him up from the couch, next to Heeseung, and he stumbles over to you, finishing out an americano from the box. “Thanks,” he drawls out, patting you on the head before making a turn towards the door. “Ugh. I need to wash my face.”

“You go do that,” you say. “Everyone, come get your coffee then get out. This place is a biohazard. Go out and get some sunlight while I clean up.”

If they keep working in this environment, you’re pretty sure one or seven of them are gonna catch a disease. After a few more moments of coaxing and physical threats, most of them eventually evacuate from the clubroom. You had to physically kick Heeseung out before locking the door. The only one left is a certain Choi Beomgyu, still curled up on a chair against the half-wall. He’s stuck behind the table, one remaining cup of coffee left behind for him. Poor guy. He looks like absolute shit. You decide to pick up the crap on the floor first before kicking him out.

To get some more light in this damned cave, you pull open the curtains and turn on the lights in the back. Copious amounts of rustling and two full trash bags later, Beomgyu is still knocked out. You’re not surprised. He sleeps like a corpse.

You set the bag aside against the door, spraying some sanitizer into your hands before walking up to him, quietly wedging yourself behind the table because he’s still got his headphones glued to his ears. That can’t be healthy. You try to remove it from his head, sitting down on the chair next to him, carefully placing your hands on the sides of his face, but this stirs him awake.

Beomgyu grumbles and shifts in his seat. And then you hear him mumble out your name with a question mark at the end. “Morning, idiot,” you say, retracting your hands. “I got you coffee.”

“It’s...it’s morning?” he groans, barely coherent.

“It’s five past nine,” you tell him. “What time did you sleep?”

“I don’t know,” he grunts, pulling up his legs to the chair and scrunching himself up even more with a yawn. “I just decided to nap when my eyes couldn’t distinguish the ones from the zeroes anymore.”

You laugh. “Get some more rest,” you say, getting up from the chair. “I’ll close the curtains, hold on—”

“No, it’s fine.” You’re tugged back onto your seat, and you feel Beomgyu drop his head onto your shoulder. “I’m gonna—” he releases another yawn. “I need’ta get up in a bit anyway.”

A breath slips past your lips. His head is so god damned heavy and you struggle to squirm into a comfortable enough position, all while trying to make sure you’re not moving too much to keep his head steady on your abused shoulder. While you’re doing that, you hear a knock from the other side of the clubroom door. Which is weird, because none of those fuckers knock at all. They tend to just barge in whenever they want.

Beomgyu recognizes this anomaly as well. He jolts up, relieving you from his weight. “Ah, shit,” he remarks, and— for some reason— starts...crawling underneath the table? “Can you answer the door? If someone’s looking for me, tell them I’m not here.”

You’re more than a little confused. Beomgyu’s face wrinkles into a grunt when another round of door knocks echo into the space, and he ducks further under the table, shielded from whoever the hell is on the other side of the door in case they walk in. Despite not receiving any answers on an explanation, you do as he says. Opening the door, you’re immediately slapped in the face by a loud, over enthusiastic voice that you don’t recognize.

“Choi Beomgyu, you can’t keep running from us anym—”

The guy cuts himself off, eyes wide at the recognition that you are not his person of interest. You don’t recognize him, but he seems to recognize you, confirmed by how he coughs up your name with so much weariness that it almost feels like he’s wronged you somehow.

“Yes?” you say, brow raised. He gulps. Who is this man, how does he know you, and why is he scared of you?

“Oh, uh— Yeonjun told us Beomgyu would be here…?”

“He’s not,” you reply, crossing your arms and tilting your body to the doorframe, just to give your friend some extra coverage. “But I can send the message. What do you want from him?”

You’re very aware of the amount of attitude you’re expelling right now. “W—well, you know the autumn festival is next month, right?”

“Get to the point.”

He flinches out a nod. “I, uh, I came here to try and convince your boyfriend to join the Battle of the Bands competition for the festival. The ICT department still needs some vacant slots to fill, so...do you think...you can maybe…?”

Ah. Right. There’s that thing. The festival. Your seniors have been sending messages in the group chat about it and Heeseung did mention that off-handedly at one point. They scouted him for your department’s band, too, but he’s still on the fence about it because of the competition deadline they’re trying to catch. That doesn’t answer why Choi Beomgyu is currently hiding under the table though. “Who are you again?” you ask in an attempt to get some hints. This question sends the guy frozen and standing perfectly upright.

“S—sorry, I’m Choi Soobin,” he introduces. “I’m Beomgyu’s senior from the department.”

Your face stiffens. Well, god damn, you’ve just been totally rude to a senior. You clear your throat, brushing your embarrassment aside by inhaling a sharp breath. “I’ll see what I can do,” you simply say before shutting the door. Once the lock clicks, you immediately taunt Beomgyu out of his hiding spot. “You piece of shit, you could’ve at least told me I needed to be respectful!”

“Wow. You’re so brave for talking to someone older than you like that.” He snickers, shuffling out from under the table before grinning at you, now standing at full height. “Your temper has mellowed out lately. I forgot that you’re inherently Satan’s underling whose default setting is to be mean and cranky.”

“Shut it,” you roll your eyes, moving back over to the door to take a peek if Choi Soobin had already left the premises. He has. The hallway is more or less empty. You turn your head back, looking over your shoulder at Beomgyu, who has his hands in his pockets, face scrunched in a yawn. You can’t help but notice the bags underneath his eyes, the gaunt paleness of his skin. A sinking feeling hits you. “C’mon. All your clubmates have left. Let’s get you photosynthesized, fuckface.”

The both of you trek the relatively barren path from the ICT building to the courtyard, planning to circle all the way back because god knows when was the last time this guy had been able to do some exercise. Pace slow, you cock your head to eye Beomgyu. He’s silently sipping on the coffee you got him, the mid-autumn leaves crunching underneath the soles of his feet as more cascade down from the trees lining your path. When your gaze shifts up, Choi Beomgyu still looks as tired as ever underneath the sun. You frown, biting on the straw of your own drink. 

“Why didn’t you want to join the band thing, by the way? You usually say yes to these things.”

Beomgyu looks over at you. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” you start. “Last sem’s E-Sports Fest. The conference thing. Not to mention all throughout highschool, you’d never miss the opportunity to be the center of attention. I’m just a little surprised.”

He lets out a hum. “Well, my priorities have changed.” Beomgyu reaches out for the top of your head with his free hand, plucking out a stray orange leaf from one of the trees above before flicking it away. “I’m already busy with the game dev contest as is. I’d rather focus my time on the important things.”

“Wow. So mature. I’m gonna tell your mom her son is all grown up.” All he does is roll his eyes at you. You laugh.

Despite that conviction of his, however, Choi Beomgyu is pretty quick to change his mind.

The next day, you’re back at the clubroom again with another set of coffee orders. It looks a lot more livable than yesterday. You call out their orders one-by-one, “Heeseung, iced mocha,” and they come up to the table to snatch it from your hands.

“Thanks, dear friend of mine,” Heeseung says, tipping your service with a firm smack on the back.

“I spit in your drink,” you retort back. He ignores your threat and saunters over to his spot next to Beomgyu, who’s busy doing god knows what with the computer, aggressive keyboard noises filling the room. You have no idea what he’s doing, nor do you try to find out. The most help you can offer to these losers is being their coffee intern.

When you finish handing all of them their drinks, ready to disappear and head off to your own business for the day, Hyunjin’s voice perks up your ears. He announces something to the entire club, eyes glued to his phone like he’d just read something very interesting. “Hey,” he starts. “Apparently Jang Seung is the drummer for the econ department’s band. You know. For the festival next month.”

They all stop doing whatever they’re doing— all heads pivoting to Beomgyu’s corner, who has now stopped typing on the keyboard. 

Beomgyu promptly gets up. He marches over to the couch, near where you’re at, and fishes for his phone from the scattered bags on the cushion. “What are you doing?” asks Yeonjun. “I thought you won’t stop coding until nature starts calling the need for you to piss.” Beomgyu simply waves him off, successfully retrieving his phone. You watch as he taps and scrolls and taps and puts the device up to his ear. 

Everyone is looking at him. There’s a moment of silence before he finally says, “Hyung,” into the phone. You eye him curiously. He meets your gaze— a flicker of a second— before turning his head just a centimeter away. “You still haven’t found a singer and guitarist yet, have you?”

Your eyes widen. Holy shit.

“Cool. I’ll see you later.”

Beomgyu throws his phone back onto the pile. “You’ll be in the band?” you manage to quickly get in before he scuttles off into his station again.

He turns to you. A smile. “Yeah?” he says. “You’re gonna cheer for me again, right?”

“But I thought you said you didn’t want to—” you stop yourself. “Nevermind. I will cheer for you as long as I don’t have to wear an ugly tangerine cosplay again. Why do your department colors have to be orange?”

He laughs. “Wear whatever you want.”

The news finally settles into the rest of the club. “Oh my god. Oh my god, holy shit, fuck, wait— I’ll prepare the posters—” Heeseung frazzles. The rest of the idiots start freaking out too. Jeongin says he’s going to design a lightstick. Jesus christ. Beomgyu’s fanclub has greatly diminished since, well, the issue, but you’re amused to see that his biggest fanboys are still standing strong. You bid the coding club farewell as they prepare for their fanchants on top of having a deadline to catch. 

This changing of his mind just made seeing your friend’s face throughout the following weeks a lot more difficult. He gets home late almost everyday, sometimes not even coming home at all. You know this when there’s no invader unlocking your door and sauntering into your home at 11 p.m. just to complain about how tired he is. But he still texts you often. Too often, and he gets cranky when you don’t text him back even though all he sent is just a photo of his forehead with a sad face emoji, and you’re in the middle of taking notes for a class, and he gives you a call not long after to complain about his grievances out loud.

“Are you ignoring me?” You hear him huff over the phone. You’re on the way to leave campus now. Usually, you’d hitch a ride with Choi Beomgyu, but he’s been occupied lately, so it’s the bus for you today. The sun is setting. The moment you walk past the gates, there’s already a bus waiting for you.

“Cut to the chase,” you gripe, hopping onto the vehicle. “What do you want?

“Free up your schedule tonight,” he demands. Wow. Does he think you’re a pushover? “Band practice is finishing up early because of the Lantern Festival downtown. Let’s go check out the night market.”

“Sure,” you say. “If you’re late again, you have to pay for the equivalent of my wasted time.”

“I won’t be late! I promise, I’m gonna rush out as soon as—”

“Yeah, whatever,” you laugh. “See you later.”

Funny guy. Despite his packed schedule, he still manages to squeeze in some time to hang out with you. Whether it’s by knocking at your door at two in the morning for a sudden drive, or this. On holidays and special occasions. The Lantern Festival is celebrated annually in the city, matching the schedule of your own university’s autumn fest. It’s now early-mid November. You freshened up at your apartment before heading back out once the sun had fully set, waiting under the streams of brightly lit posts downtown. 

You look at Beomgyu’s last text saying that they’re finishing up and he’s gonna head out in a bit. That was twenty minutes ago. You begin counting his debt as you walk down the lantered streets lining the path towards Gwanghwamun Night Market, a thousand won every minute he’s late. There are countless stalls and pop-up bars, pitched up tents selling souvenirs and food and trinkets. There’s a lot of things to keep you busy while you wait for him.

Your eyes catch one particular stand upon closing into the area. On the table and display at the far end of the tent are countless second hand, vintage digicams for cheap. You walk up to it, fiddling with the displays before asking the store owner for his recommendations. He hands you a silver, retro looking camera, the Canon logo stamped on it, with its price tag dangling behind. It’s pretty affordable. You make the purchase, carefully storing it inside your tote bag just in time for your phone to buzz. 

A text from Choi Beomgyu. You whip your head around and stop the moment you see him looking lost amidst the crowded square, brows furrowed as he tries and fails to find you. You feel a laugh bubbling. You respond to his text. [eyes ahead, doofus] He follows your instructions, face brightening the moment he sees you. Beomgyu then quickly jogs up to your spot, a little sweaty and breathless and quite frankly disheveled. “Hey!” he calls out. “Sorry, there was traffic and I had to run away from my bandmates. They wanted to have dinner together, and, uh—”

“Thirty minutes.”

Your flat tone causes him to flinch. He presses his lips together, guilty. 

“I waited for thirty minutes,” you tell him. “You owe me thirty thousand won.”

Beomgyu lets out a grunt and an apology and starts towing you away. “Fine,” he whines. “Let’s eat first. I’m starving.” You let him drag you to the lines and lines of street food stalls, quickly finding something to settle your appetite, and before you know it, he’s scammed you into filling his 30k quota on nothing but snacks.

You realize this just as you and he are standing in front of a stall, sticks of fishcakes in hand and you’ve already half chewn yours. “Cheater!” you exclaim the moment it hits you. “You made me use up all your debt in less than an hour!”

He mocks you with a close-mouthed smile, cheeks still filled with fishcakes and he waves his stick at you, taunting.“Cry about it,” he muses. You roll your eyes. “Why? Did you want me to buy you something? I might consider it if you say it nicely.”

The sounds of nighttime festivities fill your ears. It’s very bright for eight in the evening. You buy another two sticks from the vendor. “Yeah. I do,” you reply, handing one of the sticks to Beomgyu. He takes it and starts nibbling. “I wanted you to buy me a turntable.”

And then he coughs on the fishcake. “The fuck?” he leers at you. You cackle and enjoy your own food without choking on it. “That’s— five times more than thirty fucking thousand won. You don’t even own any records? Wait, where did this even come from, you’ve never been interested in this kind of stuff, what the he—”

“I was joking, doofus,” you roll your eyes, but your lips remain smiling. Smiling because he looks so appalled, it’s funny. He doesn’t share your sentiment— the corners of his mouth downturned into a frown with knitted brows, and you snort at his expression. You throw away the empty sticks, ask the vendor how much you both owe, pay the equivalent, and your eyes wander off to the sound of chatting and laughing passing you by, groups of people funneling into the direction of the stream nearby. “Hey,” you tap on Beomgyu’s arm, before taking the liberty to grab a fistful of his sleeve, tugging him closer. “Let’s go check out what’s going on.“

Beomgyu allows himself to be dragged along by you without much protest into the shuffling crowd. You manage to squeeze into a gap, not even being able to turn your head and check on him when the pace of the crowd pushes you forward, moving further away from the bright and warm stringed lights of the night market, now into a dimmer portion of the area that greets your cheeks with cold brushes of the wind.

The crowd fizzles out near the ledge overhanging the stream, allowing you to patter your steps across the pavement, running up to get a better view of what’s underneath with Beomgyu’s still in tow. On the water, you see a line of intricate floats slowly making their way downstream. Historical arches and buildings, dragons and folklore. You can even see a Doraemon float way back in the line if you squint and the air is knocked out of your lungs, from sheer awe and amazement. It’s so pretty. What catches your attention more is further down, there are people releasing their own orbs of light into the water, and some letting the lanterns loose into the sky. 

“Whoa,” you breathe out. “That’s so cool.”

You feel a nudge on your shoulder. You turn to see Beomgyu, engulfed in the cold evening light, and he cocks his head back into the direction of the market. There you see a tent filled with similar looking lanterns that everyone else was releasing, not too far away with people queuing up in rows. Your head snaps back to Beomgyu, eyes sparkling. He huffs out a smile and leads you to the tent, getting in line to have your own.

“Please wait for any available spots by the table to write your wishes down.”

“Thank you,” you smile at the stall attendant, a paper lotus lantern in hand with Beomgyu right next to you, and you take a spot on the table the moment it becomes vacant. 

It doesn’t take you long to ponder your wish. Good health. A fucking boyfriend. The works. Not that you’re superstitious, but it’s a cute idea. You peer over at Beomgyu, who’s still holding an unopened marker with a thoughtful expression. His brows are furrowed, lips pursed, and all of a sudden, he snaps down and quickly scribbles something you can’t see. Wow. He’s serious about this, you laugh a little. “Are you done?” He jolts, a little surprised before looking up at you.

“Oh, yeah.” Beomgyu sets down the marker, picking up the lantern from the table. “Are you?”

The both of you get off to get your lanterns lit up, and the once pink-tinted paper now burns a warm orange in your hands, toasting up your palms in spite of the cold weather. You head off back to the stream, all the way underneath the overhanging bridge to its shore. Carefully, you crouch down near the water, Beomgyu following your lead, and you look at him, the contours of his face tempered by an almost sunset-like glow amidst the frigid glimmer of the moon all around you.

“Do we just...drop them here?” he asks. You blink. You turn your head to the surface of the shimmering stream as it waits for your burning offering.

“I—I guess so,” you cough out. “Should we count?”

“You’re so lame,” he laughs. You glare at him. “Sure. On three. One—”

“Two.”

“Three.”

The lanterns escape from your grasps at the same time, pulled away from you by the current and the breeze. You watch as the two orange orbs slowly float away above the water, bumping into each other, drifting away from each other for a mere moment before colliding again, and remaining at that same proximity as they both follow the same current, pushed by the same breeze. 

You look at Beomgyu, who watches the two lanterns until they fully escape your line of sight. 

“What did you wish for?” you ask. 

His gaze shifts over to you. It’s heavy. You clear your throat and avert your eyes.

“You can’t just ask those kinds of questions,” he jeers, bringing up a hand to your retreating face just to punch your nose. “That’s gonna nullify my wish. Stop trying to sabotage me.”

“I’m not! I was just curious!” You swat his hand away, annoyed. You two are still crouching by the stream, hands resting on your knees. There’s a lot of people around you too, also indulging in the festival tradition. At this point, your lanterns have been completely swallowed by the multitude of other glowing lotuses on the water. You’re pretty sure that the government is just gonna clean it all up come morning and throw them into the dump. So much for lantern wishes. Whimsy destroyed. Romanticism ruined.

Before your nihilism can completely take over, Beomgyu starts speaking again. “The game deadline is nearing,” he suddenly starts. “And the uni autumn festival is like, next week.” For some reason, you can hear a sigh in his voice. Poor idiot. He must be so tired. “I seriously can’t wait for everything to be over. I’ve been so busy that I haven’t even been able to drive you home lately.”

You stare at the water. You feel a knot in your throat which you cough out, bumping your shoulder against his before your arms stretch out, fingers locking and elbows hitting your knees to release the tension in your muscles. “I can get home by myself, you know,” you tell him, allowing your hands to hang languidly in the air.

“I know,” he says, reaching out for your pinky finger, a jolt of warmth running down your spine as he plays around with the contours of the joint, tracing down to the tip of the finger when he continues, “It’s getting colder. We should go.”

Beomgyu pulls you up with him when he stands, fully enclosing his hand with yours.

He drives the both of you home that night. First time in a while, and the last time in an even longer while because he gets even busier. Band practice. Club meetings. Game dev contest on top of your also staggering amount of coursework. Most of your time is spent with Minjeong and Sungchan because Heeseung has also been swallowed by work. Poor pathetic guy number two. He deserves all of his misery.

It’s a weekday, and you’re at the library with Minjeong and Hanbin this time. He’s been liberated from coding duty because he has an exam tomorrow. These two have just been formally acquainted with each other, as far as you know, but while taking a bathroom break with Minjeong for a brief moment, she suddenly tells you, “I like him better than Beomgyu.”

You cock a brow at her through the mirror, shaking your wet hands over the sink. “Hanbin? What’s the point of comparison here?”

“Yeah,” she answers, retouching her lip gloss. “He doesn’t make fun of you and he’s less annoying. You should date him instead.”

A laugh leaves your lips. You walk over to dry your hands and once the restroom is relieved from the echoing whirs of the drying machine, you quip back. “Hanbin is nice, but he’s not my type. Just because I want to date doesn’t mean I’m just gonna try it with every decent guy I know,” you nag as you walk out the restroom and back into the library. “And I think he has eyes on someone else. And quit hating on Beomgyu. He annoys everyone he likes. If you think he’s annoying then you’ve fallen into his trap. Congratulations, you and he are friends.”

On the way back to your table, you notice a group of students eyeing you. While passing, you hear one of them whisper. But it’s too loud of a whisper. Like you were meant to hear it.

“I can’t believe she still has the guts to show her face on campus.”

Minjeong stops in her tracks. “The fuck did you just say?”

“Leave it be,” you sigh, tugging your friend away before she starts a cat fight in the library premises. Yeah. You’ve already been branded as a cheating whore. Maybe you should just give up dating altogether.

“Why do you keep letting these fuckers talk shit about you?! Let me at ‘em—”

It’s less of you being a pushover and more of you not wanting to waste energy, really. You’ve gone through this bullcrap in high school (though at a lighter degree). People believe what they want to believe and it doesn’t matter what you tell them. So, why bother. You have a group of nerds plus Minjeong and Sungchan behind your back, anyway. And of course, Choi Beomgyu, who got into a fight with his friends (former friends, he insists) that were involved with the anonymous post issue. The funny thing is, they all apologized to him with their foreheads scraping the ground not even a day after the event, but none of them even bothered trying to receive your forgiveness— until Beomgyu pointed it out and they eventually, reluctantly, came to your feet to mumble out incoherent sorrys.

It’s whatever. The post got taken down, but you still hear some snide remarks here and there like just now. Again, it’s whatever. It’s not gonna stop you from enjoying your uni life. Which is why you’re here, right now, at the uni autumn festival with a trove of nerds who are all arguably vitamin D deficient, all carrying banners and flags with Choi Beomgyu’s name in one way or another, waiting for the Battle of the Bands to start at the campus courtyard.

“Put this on!” Hyunjin shoves a bright, orange bandana into your hands with bold, white text text BAMTORIS 4 BEOMGYU on it. They came up with a fucking fanclub name. Your head rings. The bandana wrinkles in your hand as you shove it into your coat pocket, never to see the light of day.

“Hey, it’s starting!”

The large, heavy speakers boom through the crowd. Indeed, it is starting, and you already can’t wait to go home. But you persist. You’re going home after Choi Beomgyu’s stage. His text said they’ll be performing fourth, after the economics department. You can handle that much noise and chaos. Your social energy needs to last, else you’d have to coax a sulking dog tomorrow for ditching him. The host screams a welcoming spiel into the mic, and everyone else starts screaming. You wince. Yeah, you can deal with this.

When the performances started, you were actually able to vibe a little with the music. Having Heeseung shaking you around and screaming lyrics into your ear does help a bit. When the third band comes up however, you feel the mood around you shift. The coding club boys are so much louder now. No, they’re not cheering. They’re hell bent on sending an overpowering amount of boos and jeers at Jang Seung the moment he got up on stage.

The guy was so flustered at the non-cheers that he was offbeat for half the song. You’re thoroughly enjoying this. Heeseing continues yelling different iterations of, “Get off the stage! You suck!” until Jang Seung finally does with his bandmates drilling dirty looks at him. You laugh. Absolutely deserved.

The boys’ jeers shift again the moment the host calls out the ICT department onstage. They start cheering. Very loudly. Ferally, almost. You see Beomgyu walk his way into the center, electric guitar hanging from his neck as the lights focus on him. You hear nothing but yelling. Jesus fucking christ. It’s an assault at all fronts with Heeseung, Yeonjun, Jeongin, and Hyunjin surrounding you. Maybe...maybe you shouldn’t have joined these damned nerds.

It hushes down when Beomgyu grabs the mic to give an introduction of the band. Heeseung is still screeching, though. You grow concerned.

“Anyway, sing and dance along if you know the lyrics.”

Beomgyu’s hands grip the microphone as you hear his voice continue through the speakers, staring down at the crowd as if he’s looking for something. Then his eyes land on you. You’re taken aback for a moment. Just a moment, because you manage a smile. Good luck, you mouth, hands cupping your lips. 

He smiles back. “This song— is you.”

The instrumental is familiar. A guitar sings. Drum beats crash. You’ve heard this numerous times from Beomgyu’s playlist before. In his car. Along the streets. On the floor of his apartment at three in the morning after he called you out to do nothing in particular until you fall asleep on the couch. Then his voice resonates in the night, carried by the still familiar melody and you feel your heart thump along with the bass vibrating from the speakers. 

Time and time again, Choi Beomgyu proves to you that he’s always meant for the spotlight. He belongs there, to receive all the attention and adoration of everyone that catches sight of him. Seeing him up there brings an unconscious smile on your face. That is until you feel Heeseung shove his shoulder against you, prying your attention away from the blinding stage lights to the dim glow of your friend’s lightstick. “Hey, lovergirl,” he says, grinning widely. “He says he’s nothing without you.”

“Fuck off,” you roll your eyes, cheeks stretched by a flurry of heat. “It’s just a song.”

It’s over before you know it. You were able to snag a few shots of your friend at the near end there as per his request for his Instagram feed, but your plan to run away after their performance is ruined because the boys have decided to hold you hostage because, “There’s no way you’re missing tonight’s celebration!” as if the winners have already been announced. There’s like three bands left. Tonight, you suffer.

Still, your waiting and leg aches for standing too long aren’t wasted because when the winners are indeed announced, the ICT department are called as the victors, and the rest of the night is a blur of hoots and yells and many, many bars and clubs all throughout the city. 

Unfortunately for you, this is only the start of your series of night outs leading up to the end of the year. 

After finals, Sungchan dragged you and Minjeong out for another night out to celebrate. When TXT Inc. announced the winners for their game development competition not long after, you’re dragged to another night out since the boys managed to scrape by 3rd place and save their club from the threat of administrative shut-down.

You’re exhausted. Absolutely drained. You sleep the entire car ride home to Daegu with Beomgyu, recharging just enough for the joint Christmas eve dinner with your family and his. Your friend manages to notice your pitiful state and saves you from conversations by answering questions from the parents on your behalf over the meal.

“Ah, I heard from our daughter that you performed at your festival last month? Oh, how was it? You used to sing and dance during our village Christmas parties all the time when you were still in elementary school.”

“He was trying so hard to look cool, dad.” Regardless of your exhaustion, your system always has enough energy to jump at the opportunity to make fun of him. 

Beomgyu glares at you from across the table, and you feel a kick from underneath. “I was cool. We won, if you forgot. Just so you know, I only joined to put that Jang Seung back in his—” You kick him back. Beomgyu jolts, eyes widen. Oops, he sends you an apologetic look. You send him a silent warning in return.

“Who’s Jang Seung?” his mother asks, curious.

“Some annoying guy from our department. He likes to think he’s cooler than me and I needed to give him a reminder,” Beomyu responds. You release a silent sigh and sip on your drink. “Which I am. Proven by my victory during the competition.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, buddy.”

“Auntie! She’s being mean again!”

By the time you reach your apartment building, the clock at around eleven at night, you are barely alive. The rest are walking ahead of you. You are but a bamboo stick getting brushed along by the wind and Choi Beomgyu’s stops you from falling face flat into the floor because you bump into him.

“Idiot,” he scolds, balancing you by the shoulders. “C’mon. Let’s go. I’ll be your navigator up the stairs, you withering stick of bamboo.”

“Wait,” you protest (verbally, because you have no strength left in your body and could not physically stand your ground). Beomgyu eyes you, halting from bodying you all the way up the apartment. You look over his shoulder to yell at your parents up ahead. “You go in first! I’m gonna talk to Beomgyu for a sec!”

“It’s late,” your mom narrows her eyes at you. “Can’t you two talk tomorrow?”

“It’s—it’s important,” you stammer. You look at Beomgyu. He raises a brow, confused and suspicious.

You step on his foot. He gapes his mouth and lets out a silent swear. You make a face. He makes a face back before letting out a defeated grunt, spinning his heels to confirm your initial sentiments. “We won’t be long. Mom, you can toss the keys to me. I’ll lock up.”

Not long after, you and Choi Beomgyu are left alone at the foot of your apartment building. He stuffs his apartment keys into his pockets, swirling around to look at you with a face stoned by disapproval. “What is it?” he gnaws. “You’re about to pass out any second. What could be more important than getting some sleep right now?”

You ignore his nagging. “Come to the playground with me,” is your unrelated response. His face jitters— disapproval churning into a shock of anxiety, but he attempts to brush it off.

“You’re not gonna ask me to do something along the lines of pretending like we don’t know each other, righ—”

“No! Fuck off! I’ll go alone if you don’t want to.”

“I’m coming,” he sternly says, trailing behind your heated steps to a corner of the apartment square, on the way to the playground at the back of the building. “At least tell me what you want to talk about first.”

“It’s—it’s nothing bad.”

“You’re being suspicious.”

“I’m not!”

Your foot stomps over the dirt of the playground, pressing your lips together as you scramble out your phone to check the time. 11:13 p.m. Dammit. Your coat pocket feels heavy, the thing inside snuggled deep and concealed. How do you distract him for forty-seven more minutes? He’s already yawning. Your eyes flicker around— the spring riders catching your attention first. “Come here,” you say stiffly, just as mechanically hopping onto what you assume is a duck on the spring. 

Beomgyu is evidently weirded out by you, but he follows you anyway, unquestioning whenever you lead him from one equipment and ride in the playground to the next— the swings, spinners, monkey bars, tubes, slides, even the fucking climbers that probably can’t handle your weight. It’s not the most appropriate age and weather to be doing this, but you needed something to kill the time.

The only thing left untouched are the seesaws. It’s 11:55. God damn it. You’ve been willfully avoiding this contraption in case it reawakens your moment of shame and weakness, but having been caught in the pattern you’ve started, Beomgyu is already plopping down on one of the ends.

You bite your tongue. You follow and take your spot on the other end, quiet. The both of you see and saw in silence, most likely carrying the same thing in your minds.

The moment your feet hit the ground again, you stay there. You flip open your phone. Three more minutes. Beomgyu springs you up in the air. You’re brought back down.

“Whatever you’re planning on saying—” he starts, from above. “Don’t say it.”

“It’s not what you think!” you argue. Two more minutes. “Stop moving. Hold on a sec.”

You and Beomgyu are on both ends, both on the ground. One more minute. He eyes you suspiciously, maybe even nervously and you don’t blame him. You dig into your coat pocket, feeling the crumple of the smooth fabric of the pouch you pocketed before leaving for dinner earlier, the item hard in your hand.

“Choi Beomgyu, you’ve been working hard all semester.” Your phone alarm rings. Fucking finally. You pull the pouch out of your pocket. “I thought maybe you deserve a treat.”

You toss it at him. He lets go of the seesaw handle to catch it.

“Merry Christmas, fuckface.”

The pouch lands in his hands. He just stares at it for a moment, eyes wide in surprise and your heart rattles. Why are you nervous right now? You begin to palpitate even further when he actually pulls the strings open, revealing the vintage digicam you bought during the lantern festival. From the moment you saw the stall, you knew the sentimental idiot would like one of these. It’s been waiting in your drawer for this occasion. You start to feel even more self conscious every second he takes to examine it.

“I—I know it’s a bit cheap,” you stammer. “But I already spent so much money on your birthday gift, so don’t you even dare—”

Click!

You look up to see the camera in front of Beomgyu’s face. You blink. He puts it down, tinkering with the buttons with a smile on his face. “I like it,” he says, flashing his eyes at you. “It’s pretty.”

Without a second to waste, you jump off the fucking seesaw and Choi Beomgyu’s ass lands on the ground. “Hey, delete that!”

“Nuh-uh! No way!” he fends you off, swatting away your hands as you straddle him on the dirt ground. “You gave it to me so this is mine! I can do whatever I want with it!”

“My portrait rights! You’re violating the law!”

“Ow! That hu— owww! Fine! Okay, fine—”

It’s Christmas, and the both of you are on the dusty ground of your apartment complex’s playground, a little breathless from squabbling. Beomgyu has one forearm shielding himself from your attacks, the other keeping the camera safe to his chest.

“I’ll delete it! I’ll delete it on one condition.”

You slump back, already tired. “What?” you wheeze. 

He grunts and picks himself up, dusting his clothes and you follow not long after once you’ve caught your breath. “Come to my place for a sec.”

This time, you’re the one eyeing him with suspicion. Still, he humored you tonight, so you shall humor him too. You follow him into the building, up the flights of stairs until you reach your floor. Beomgyu grumbles out a few swears under his breath as he puts more effort than necessary to unlock the door to his place. “Need a little help doing simple movements there, buddy?”

“Shut your mouth,” he grunts, finally managing to unlock it. 

Their festive living room greets you upon entry. The rug is different from what you remember. The curtains shielding the interior from the moonlight have gingerbreads and snowmen on them. Beomgyu leads you up to the Christmas tree in the corner of the room, painted with tinsel and ornaments and stars. He sits down on the carpet, patting on the spot next to him without looking at you and you gingerly cross your legs down. He digs into the mix of real and fake gift boxes for decoration. You know because some have names, some are blank.

“I didn’t expect you to throw me a gift right at midnight. That was an unprompted attack.” He finally leans back with a pretty big box in hand, setting it down on the floor right in front of you. “Still. I refuse to lose. Here.”

There’s a name on it. Yours. From your pretty and handsome and amazing most favorite person, Choi Beomgyu. You snort.

“Open it,” he nudges.

“Now?”

“Duh.”

He’s annoying, but you let him off. Carefully, you unwrap the ribbon, a pang of nervous anticipation hitting your bones as your hands hover over the box lid. 

You open the present.

You see the gift.

Your hands instinctively jerk back down to fucking close it.

“Choi Beomgyu! I said it was a joke! Why would you—” you hiss out, a quiet scream as you throw your head around to look at him, only for the words to fizzle out your throat upon seeing the expectant look on his face. His eyes are big and sparkly and looking at you with so much expectation. Your face grows hot, the burn even more palpable amidst the December weather, and you suck in a deep breath, looking down in acceptance and defeat. “A fucking turntable. You’re insane. Why would you get me this? You said it yourself that I don’t even own any records or LPs or whatever you use for this. What’s wrong with you?”

“You said you wanted one.” He’s grinning. He’s grinning very proudly. “Merry Christmas, dipshit. Now, we’re even.”

Ah. God damn it. He really is insane.

“He got you a what?”

Within the last week of December, you and Beomgyu return back to Seoul. There’s some crap to do at uni regarding your scheduling and classes, and Jung Sungchan is throwing yet another party to celebrate the incoming new year. Not at his parent’s place this time because he got an earful after the previous party. He’s hosting it in his apartment, so the invitation list is smaller. More bearable, because you and Minjeong are forced to attend again. 

“Girl, you don’t even own any records.” Minejeong’s head pops up from the other side of the clothes rack, looking both appalled and amazed from the information she’d just received from you. “Have you even used it yet?”

“No!” you remark in response. “The thing has been catching dust in my apartment and I’m starting to feel bad. Is it okay if we stop by a record store after this?”

Which is why you and she are out shopping right now to buy a cute new year’s outfit to match Sungchan’s black and gold party theme. You don’t understand why he has to have a theme, but it’s a good excuse to treat yourself to some new clothes. You and your friend have been thrifting and boutique hopping, spending a good chunk of your holiday money for a one-day millionaire spree. 

A few shopping bags in hand, a bell jangles when you push open the door to a vintage record store you saw in passing earlier, in between thrift stores. The scent of rubber, dusty wood, and pressed vinyl hit your senses, along with the dull hum of music from the store’s speakers from the background. You walk in with no plan on what the fuck you should buy, so needless to say you are overwhelmed by the gigantic selection on display.

“Hey, how may I help you?”

The singular employee present in the store has probably noticed your swirling eyeballs trying to take in everything. “Oh, I’m just looking around,” you say with a smile. The store clerk smiles back, telling you to feel free to browse, and you thank him. He’s tall, presumably college-aged with sandy hair, and your mind wanders around the idea that it would be nice to find another part-time job for extra allowance. But your break is almost over. And you’d have to look for somewhere else because it won’t be a great idea to work at Horangnabi again and deal with the rest of the studentry considering your current, uh, reputation.

But you’re not here to dwell on that. You’re here to finally put Choi Beomgyu’s fucking gift to good use. Minjeong stays by the door with her phone while you walk further into the store with the clerk trailing behind you. As you run your hands over a few familiar covers, familiar names and titles, he shoots you a few questions here and there— are you looking for a specific artist? What kind of music do you like? I can give you some recommendations if you’d like? Clearly, there’s something more than customer service going on here. 

As you check out a selection of two records (because holy shit, these are expensive), it dawns on you that it’s almost the end of the year, and you still have yet to find a god damned boyfriend. Granted, you don’t believe doing so will help salvage your image in any way at all, but it kind of sucks to think that you’ll be spending another new year single and lonely.

“Come again any time.”

Well, maybe not too lonely because you won’t have time to think about any nihilistic bullshit at Jung Sungchan’s party. Minjeong scolds you as you walk out the store with a new paper bag and no new number in your contacts. “He was clearly trying to hit on you,” she says.

“He’s not my type,” you deflect back. She clicks her tongue and nags you that every shot you don’t take is a miss, and you simply brush her off with a laugh. But she has a point. Maybe you’re the reason why you’ve been single this entire time. Perhaps the universal false assumption that you and Choi Beomgyu have been dating for the past one-hundred years has nothing to do with it.

Lee Heeseung agrees with this new speculation of yours. “You’re too prickly,” he says over brunch at a local bed-and-breakfast. You and Minjeong meet up with him right after your shopping spree because he just happened to be in the area. “And a little scary. Everyone from the club used to be afraid of you at first because you’re so mean.”

“You nerds are just losers,” Minjeong defends you. 

“Wow. Two bullets in one shot,” you say in between enjoying your bacon, fried rice, and eggs.

“Hey, you have no right to say anything. You’re single too.” Heeseung points his fork at her. “It can’t be helped. This is unsalvageable. It seems like I must share this secret trick I found on TikTok to solve all of your problems.” 

“That source sounds very credible,” you snort.

“I haven’t even said anything yet!” Heeseung proceeds to explain the secret trick: eat twelve grapes under the table within the minutes passing into the new year, and your wish will be granted. You nearly cough out your brunch. Minjeong bursts out laughing right next to you. You can’t even begin to imagine how Heeseung managed to land himself into that side of the app.

“Incredible,” she chortles out. “What do you plan on wishing for, Hee? For you to get back together with—”

“No!” he screeches out. “No way. That era of my life is over now. I’m gonna get accepted at HYBE Inc. for my fucking internship.”

“Wow,” you gape, taking a sip from your iced tea. “You’re maturing.”

“Right? This is crazy.”

Heeseung’s outburst melts down, and the redness slowly starts seeping out from his cheeks. He looks at you, a little proud and rubs a finger under his nose with a grin. “Heh. It’s nothing.”

“You’ve got some rice on your face, Mr. Maturity.” You hear an ‘oh shit,’ from across the table as you look down to your lit up phone from a message notification coming in. Your eyes narrow, letting your utensils clatter on your plate to make a few taps on the phone screen. “You asked Beomgyu to come?” you ask, looking back up at Heeseung. “Why is the idiot telling me he’s on the way here?”

Specifically, it was a shot of him from the eyes up and a bus ceiling with [omw 2 u 🛵🛵] plastered on his forehead. “Oh, he’s coming?” Heeseung responds, unsurprised. “He asked if I wanted to hit the PC room with him. I told him I’m still with you two and sent him my location.”

“Ah, fuck me. Now I have to change seats.” You watch in slight confusion as Minjeong pushes her food over to Heeseung’s side of the table before following suit, leaving the space next to you cold and barren and empty, and your look of confusion muddles into betrayal. “Hey, don’t give me that look. Beomgyu always follows you around like a puppy with severe attachment issues and I don’t really want to be caught in between the both of you.”

“He does not!” you defend, your fist bouncing on the table with a clatter, just in time for your eyes to flicker off to the direction of the restaurant door opening, welcoming a Choi Beomgyu, who’s whipping his head around to look for you three, inside.

“Hey, dude, over here!”

Unfortunately, he proves Minjeong correct. Beomgyu turns his head to you at the recognition of Heeseung’s voice, blank face shifting into an easy smile. His next set of movements are programmed right into his system: he walks up to you, he plops down right next you, and he dips his head down to take a long sip from your iced tea, right before releasing a refreshed lip-smack and sigh with his shit-eating grin, directed right at you. “Thanks for the treat.” His hand meets the top of your head, utterly ruining your hair. 

“Fuck off. No one even invited you here.” You wrestle him off with your elbow. Beomgyu retreats by letting his arm stretch behind your back, causing the cushion of the booth seats to sink down while he calls a waiter for the menu. You feel your throat dry. You reach for the ice tea Choi Beomgyu just drank a third of to rinse down the dryness. Minjeong’s eyes are on you. Heeseung is pressing his mouth together, and his face is pissing you off.

“Do you want me to find another table then? I see you’re almost done with your meals.” The bitch is trying to play victim. You give him a look of aversion. He’s unfazed, looking at Heeseung with a subtle quirk of his lips inching towards victory, because the latter took his bait.

“I’m ordering another meal,” Heeseung announces. “You. Sit. We’re hitting the PC room after this.”

“Sure thing.” All you can do is sigh while Beomgyu sticks his tongue out at you. “Quit grumbling,” he snarks. “And quit acting like you don’t want me around. Didn’t you say it yourself? Should I give you a refresher? Ahem, what makes you think I can’t live without—”

“Moving on!” 

Your face is now hot. Beomgyu is still grinning like a bastard, but he doesn’t finish the statement. You can still see the amusement on the corners of his lips even when he leans down to sip from your iced tea again. “I hate being here,” Minjeong breathes out, gulping down the last of her drink before slamming the glass down onto the table.

Beomgyu’s order arrives. “Why are you two so moody today?” He points a pair of chopsticks at Minjeong before stabbing them into his salad. “Did your shopping trip go badly or some shit?”

“For your information, our day was going great until you showed up,” you glare at him.

“Yeah,” Minjeong doubles down. Heeseung’s second meal also arrives. He ignores the squabbles and starts happily digging in. “Our shopping trip was great. You should see the dress she bought for the party. It’s really pretty.”

At that mention, Beomgyu’s head tilts, eyes flickering over to your direction. “Is it?” 

There’s something in the tone of his voice that forces you to swallow something down. “Mind your own business, buster,” you hiss at him. He shrugs and continues eating. “What the hell is Jung Sungchan thinking dress coding a college party, anyway? It’s not like he’d kick me out if I end up wearing bright green.”

“Is the dress you bought bright green?” Beomgyu chimes in. “Now I’m even more curious.”

You look at him, face scrunched up. “If you want to wear my dress, just say so.”

“Hey, I think I’d body it.”

“Oh my fucking god.”

Indeed, no one gets kicked out for wearing the wrong thing. The moment you walk into Jung Sungchan’s blasted apartment, you see red, pink, purple, maroon amidst the gold foil decorations and fuzzy warping lights. No, Choi Beomgyu did not show up in your dress. He’s in a beige wool blazer, white undershirt, and lazy black trousers with a beer can in hand, waiting for your arrival by the door. “Oh, hey.” You do not recall beige being in the goddamned dress code. At least his pants are black and his necklace is gold. “You’re here.”

“I wish I weren’t,” you grunt, wiggling out of your coat because although it’s currently the cold season, Sungchan’s apartment is humid. Though it’s significantly less people than his house party last summer, it’s still thirty people more than to your liking. You grimace, hanging the garment on your forearm. “Where is he? Where’s the host of this shithole?”

You point up your chin, looking around for Sungchan, but to no avail. Maybe he’s at the balcony, but your friend over here isn’t answering you.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.” You whip your head back to Beomgyu. He hasn’t left, no. He’s just standing there, a faint buzz tinting his cheeks. You peer at the drink he’s holding. You click your tongue, waving a hand in front of his face. “Hello?”

Luckily, he isn’t fully checked out yet. He swats your hand away and clears his throat. “I think he’s on the balcony. C’mon.”

Sungchan greets you with a barreling hug and nearly bulldozes you into the floor because he’s a dramatic bastard who hasn’t seen you since finals week. “Now that you’re here, we can officially start the party!” he yells, as if it hadn’t already started, and drags your limp body back to the living room. Right now, it’s around ten in the evening. Minjeong clocks in not long after you and gets roped into the mess of drinking games happening on Sungchan’s carpeted floor, already a few rounds in.

In between all the yelling and the music and the chants to chug, chug, chug it, Heeseung stands up with a microphone in hand. You have no idea where he got that from, but he has it, and has decided that it would be a great idea to start singing your hearts out. 

“Sing or drink! Sing or drink!”

Yeah, no. You’re downing that fucking shot.

“Boo! You’re no fun!” Heeseung jeers at you. You toss him the now red solo cup with the droplets of whatever the fuck they mixed into that, gagging slightly. The microphone eventually gets snatched by a very drunk Yeonjun, who already got his necktie wrapped around his head. This is a big mess. Yeonjun gets his solo moment. He starts singing Through the Fire by Chaka Khan.

“Yeonjun hyung! Yeonjun hyung!”

“Hyung, why do you have to graduate?!”

“Hyung, I’ll miss you!”

You’re definitely not drunk enough for this. By eleven-thirty, you’re already fucking exhausted, so you ready to escape to the kitchen. A lot of people have left, the ones remaining consisting mostly of Sungchan’s close friends. Minjeong sees you escaping and runs after you. “Going down for a bit. I need some fresh fucking air.”

“Don’t die,” you hum, patting her out the door.

“You don’t die.” She nudges back at the directions of the living room, where the boys are gathered in a sudden emotional huddle. Choi Beomgyu included. The year’s coming to an end. Meaning a few of them are gonna be graduating from uni soon like Yeonjun. You swear you can hear someone wailing. “I don’t want to deal with that. Good luck. Hide safe, soldier.”

She salutes you off, marching out the door. You turn back to look at the mess of the apartment. Sungchan’s prettily hung gold foil have either been ripped off, their remnants tattered on the floor, or barely strewn. There’s still music playing, the bass thrumming through the walls. Cups and plastic and confetti and a few pairs of shoes are scattered all over the floor. You grimace and walk over a wet spot, heading over to the kitchen to help yourself with whatever wine’s still left over.

Pouring yourself a glass, you can’t help but notice what’s left on the moderately sized dining table. Jung Sungchan put an effort to drape it with a pretty sheet of fabric stitched with metallic gold, serving as a bed for the display of various round fruits at the center. A single melon. A bowl of oranges and kiwis beside the bed of green and red apples. You huff out a small laugh, teeth clinking against the rim of the wine glass. Even Jung Sungchan is a little superstitious. You’ve heard about the round fruits for good luck on new year’s before. It’s a miracle none of these were massacred. Save maybe for the half-eaten apple abandoned right by the sink.

Your eyes notice the package of untouched shine muscat grapes sitting soundly on the table, still covered in plastic wrap. You check the time on your phone. 11:45 p.m. Heeseung’s dumb voice echoes in your brain. Twelve grapes. Wishes. Good luck. Superstitions. God, this shit has been haunting you since November.

“Hyung! Promise me you’ll still visit the club even after you graduate, okay? Promise that you’ll—”

“Dude, you have to learn to let go! If you love someone, let them go!”

“No! I don’t want to let Yeonjun hyung go!”

Still. Just like the paper lanterns last month. Just like the damned alarm you have on your phone that rings every night when the clock strikes eleven-eleven, you find yourself falling for this bullshit again.

This is fine, right? No harm in humoring the teeniest-tiniest possibility that these affirmations will hold true? Before you know it, you have the grapes in your person, the tablecloth flung open for a glimpse of a second, and ten minutes before the new year, a singular thought runs laps inside the pitch darkness of your head in the form of the question— can you get any more fucking pathetic?

“What...what the hell are you doing?”

You wince, light leaking into your safe space under the dining table, at the same time as the intrusion of Choi Beomgyu’s voice. You look up at him. He has peeled back the tablecloth— your cover— and honestly you’re not even offended by the look of pure and absolute judgment littering his face right now. You’re judging yourself too for listening to Heeseung’s fucking stupid trick, crawling underneath the table at new year’s party for god’s sake, sitting on a dirty ass floor, a bowl of grapes on your lap, a glass of wine next to your folded up legs, and an expression not befitting the holiday spirit because you’re looking up at him like you want to die.

“I’m—I’m manifesting,” you say petulantly with a squeak, cheeks burning and refusing to explain any further for the sake of your shame and pride. It’s eleven-fifty. You hope he’d politely fuck off before midnight so you can do your business in peace.

Your eyes should be sending the message right now. Beomgyu continues to stare at you with a less than amused expression, a contemplative pause that you hope is a sign that he’s going to leave you alone. But, no. Your message does not come across because Beomgyu decides to plop down, cross-legged, right in front of you. 

“That doesn’t explain anything,” he says. Why can’t he just mind his own business? He should leave you and your grapes alone. “Sungchan’s looking for you and before I left the living room, he picked up a megaphone. Tell me what you’re scheming or else I’ll rat you out.”

“You, bitch!”

Eleven fifty-five. Shit. Choi Beomgyu doesn’t seem like he’s going to budge any time soon. His lips are pursed and he’s got the base of his palm holding up his chin. You bite down your lip and squeeze your eyes shut, taking in a sharp inhale before airing out your pathetic desperation in its rawest form.

“Like I said. I’m manifesting.”

His eyes narrow, brows furrowed. “Manifesting what exactly.”

“A fucking boyfriend.”

Whatever. Fuck it. He can make fun of you all he wants.

“Heeseung said if you eat twelve grapes from eleven fifty-nine to twelve o’one on new year’s, your wish will be granted. I—I—I looked it up because it sounded stupid, but—” You pause. You take a half a second glance at Beomgyu’s expression and decide that you are unable to look him in the eye. “Listen, Beomgyu, I’m desperate. I’m grasping at the straws here. I’m sick and tired of being single and misunderstood by all those damned fucking rumors and I know you’re nowhere near responsible, but I’m very annoyed right now, okay? So, if you’re just gonna make fun of me, please leave because there’s only, like three minutes left before twelve, and I really don’t want you deliberately ruining my chances this time, Choi Beomgyu.”

You breathe in. That. That took you an entire minute to say. Maybe you drank a little too much. Maybe you were rattling on like a maniac just now, but you can’t quite decipher Beomgyu’s reaction to your insanity. 

Is he judging you? Is he weirded out? Pitying you? Because you sure are pitying yourself right now, but you don’t fucking know because all he’s doing is looking at you dead in the eye, face unmoving, totally blank expression, and you gulp. What the hell is he getting at?

Two minutes left. You hear the premature hiss of fireworks outside. “Scoot over,” he finally says. “I can’t believe you’re doing something stupid by yourself and leaving me out.”

“Wh—what are you doing?!”

The tablecloth falls. Your vision is darkened. Choi Beomygyu is wedged right next to you underneath Sungchan’s dining table, on the dirty kitchen floor of his apartment, two minutes before the start of a new year. A new point in history. And here you are, with your friend of over twenty years who’s plucked a shiny green grape from the stem, rolling it between his fingers with an unsure look. “Twelve? We have to eat twelve of these?”

“You don’t have to do it if you’re just gonna make fun—”

Beomgyu pops the grape into his mouth. 

“How many minutes do we have again?”

You pause a little, staring into space before coughing out, “Th—three.” You put a handful of grapes into the cup of your palm to toss it all in there in one shot. It’s twelve fifty-fine. “Three minutes. Starting now.”

“Got it.”

Now, you can’t even begin to fathom the absurdity of this scene. You can hear the boys making a ruckus from the other room, yelling into the megaphone, counting down while you continue to shovel the fruit into your mouth. Eight. You have eight left. 

“Woohoo! Happy new year!”

Fireworks are bursting, music is blaring.

“Six! Five!”

Four. Four grapes left in your hands. The juice spurts into your mouth. You glance up at Beomgyu. His brows are knitted together, counting the remaining grapes he has to swallow down before the time is up. 

“Two!”

You seriously can’t believe you two are doing this. You’re about to choke, stuffing the remaining grapes into your cheeks and god forbid your obituary say that you died asphyxiating on round fruit on December 31, 11:59 p.m. Seriously. How did you get so pathetic? You swallow down the last bit of fruit while the rest of your friends are having fun outside. So single, so desperate, so pathetic. You’re never gonna eat another grape again.

“One!”

And the thought hits you 

“Happy new year!”

If you’re so single, so desperate, and so pathetic, then—

“Done!”

Beomgyu’s sudden voice causes you to jump and bump your head against the table. His eyes widen, and firm hands clasp your shoulders to pull you in. “Sorry, are you okay?” he sputters out, little panicked while one hand travels up to the top of your head— where he’d usually ruffle, tousle to ruin your hair and annoy you, but this time Beomgyu’s touch is gentle, checking to see if he’s caused any damage, while your face remains pushed down, eyes trained on the ground where your tight knuckles are pressed into. 

The fireworks haven’t stopped. There’s still a lot of noise outside, but Beomgyu’s soft voice manages to ripple through everything you hear. 

“Nothing hurts, right? You’re good?” 

He guides you to look at him, hands gingerly placed on the sides of your head, and you can feel his index fingers grazing the helix of your ears. You look at him. His former blank, judgemental stare softened with a concern that almost sounds like he’s carrying the weight of the whole universe on his shoulders, as if accidentally causing you to bump your head against the table would endanger the fate of the world.

You’re so single, so desperate, so pathetic, and also so, so stupid because why did you even waste your wishes on that paper lantern, those twelve grapes, and all the countless eleven-elevens these past months when the answer to your wish has been right in fucking front of you this entire time?

“At this point, we should just start dating.”

You gasp.

You cover your mouth, jolting up. Your voice was a little louder than you thought, and your heart sinks down into your stomach as you try to focus your rattled gaze at Beomgyu— at his face, his expression, but you don’t get to do any of that. You don’t get to laugh it off, take it back, say it was just a joke. A joke. Because just as when you open your mouth, the words threatening to jump out of your throat—

“You’re right.”

Beomgyu says something first, and none of it comes out.

“We should just do that.”

You’re not sure what you’re feeling, but it’s like your heart that got dropped right into the pits of your stomach just burst into a million, fluttering pieces.

Your breathing is ragged. Your eyes flit back up to Beomgyu. Your face flushes. Why isn’t he laughing? Why isn’t he saying it’s just a joke?

“Jesus christ—! There you two are! What the hell are you doing— oh my god, were you hooking up under the table?!”

“It’s new year’s, baby! Everyone, get crazy!”

You can’t feel your legs. You’re fished out from down there and into the mess of noises and singing and firecrackers bursting and you never get to clarify anything to Beomgyu, because he’s tugged along by Heeseung and Hyunjin for a group photo with the boys, and Sungchan and Minjeong are asking you a million questions that you can’t hear over the unfamiliar sound of your heartbeat. What...what is this? What the fuck is going on?

“Don’t tell me you actually did Heeseung’s stupid fucking trick.” 

And then it hits you.

Butterflies. There are butterflies in your stomach.

This cannot be normal. You douse them all dead with a shitload of alcohol. 

“Whoa, holy shit, that was half the bottle!”

That ought to kill the fluttering and buzzing insects. Only temporarily because the next morning, you’re hit with a different kind of buzzing.

Your head is ringing— buzzing— brain fuzzy, and when you open your eyes, you’re no longer in the mess of Jung Sungchan’s apartment. You’re in yours. In your bed. Still wearing your dress from last night under the covers. You have no idea how you got here. 

It takes a moment for your mind to settle. You groan, vision swaying when you lean over to the bedside desk to feel around for your phone. You don’t feel it. But you do feel your purse that has your phone in it. What the fuck. Seriously, how did you get home? When you turn it on, you see on your lock screen message notifications from Heeseung and Sungchan, asking if you got home safe, pictures from last night. Some of the events caught on camera, you remember happening. Some, you definitely don’t remember happening and you grow all the more concerned.

One text in particular pulls in the only memory you need to remember, though. It’s from Minjeong, saying [choi beomgyu hauled your ass home in case you’re wondering btw HAHAHHAHA i never saw you drink that much before. jesus christ].

And you freeze, the blood draining from your face as you recall just what happened during the new year’s countdown.

You might have asked out your friend of twenty years.

And he might have said yes.

Your face drops into the plush of your pillow, lurching over to let out a long, distressed scream. That fucking grape trick was more effective than you hoped. Instantaneous. Heeseung should’ve warned you of its effects, what the fuck. Your moment is ruined by the sound of dull knocking, which you can locate coming all the way from your front door. 

You pause, face still muffled into your pillow. The knocking is followed by a short pause. Then the sound of your door code beeping. Then your door unlocking.

Motherfucker, shit, fucking crap.

You throw your covers over yourself. You’re buried underneath. Choi Beomgyu can’t hurt you from down here. Maybe. God damn it, you don’t know what to do, you haven’t had the chance to think yet. The sound of footsteps from outside your room causes you to jitter. It’s still pretty far off, shuffling into the kitchen, you think, and they stop for a moment. Cupboards draw open. The sink turns on then stops. Footsteps resume. They enter your open bedroom door and you bite down a swear. Fuck it all, you’re so fucking fucked.

The desk chair behind you is pulled out, the sound of its legs screeching against the floorboards, ending with a quiet clatter. You hear a second clunk. Then the voice of someone sitting right behind your curled up and pathetic, vulnerable frame.

“I know you’re awake.”

Fuck. Fuck everything.

“C’mon, get up. It’s past two in the afternoon. I can’t believe I woke up earlier than you.”

Begrudgingly, you peel yourself out from under the covers, and just as hesitantly turn yourself around to face the face you aren’t quite ready to see at the moment with squinting eyes from the bright sunlight. You hear Beomgyu let out a sigh. “You drank way too much last night. Or this morning. Whatever.” Instead of looking directly at his face, you choose to look at whatever he’s brought to your desk instead. A tray. A tray with oatmeal, aspirin, and a glass of water. Your stomach is starting to act up again. You’re not sure if it’s whatever the fuck you drank last night, or something else. “How’s your head?”

Not well, thank you very much. You can’t even manage to verbalize your comeback. Shit, just how much have you fallen after just one slip-up. Why isn’t he bringing it up anyway? Why is he acting so normal? You grunt as you sit up from your bed, head still ringing as the aftermath of last night, and set the tray right onto your lap.

You drink your water, eat your meal, and take your medicine in silence. Beomgyu doesn’t do anything to bother you. All he does is watch you with steady eyes, gaze following the movements of your hand especially when you bring the water to your lips, leaned slightly forward as if he’s ready to jump in in case you drop it because your hands are shaking a little. 

Thankfully, you don’t do that. When everything’s done, Beomgyu gets up and ducks down to get the tray off your lap, and— much to the demise of your entire nervous system— you’re forced to look at his face in such a close proximity, that you hiccup and jump back into the headboard.

Beomgyu turns up to look at you, still hunched over you. “What?”

You clear your throat. “Th—thanks?”

His eyes are fixed. His nose scrunches a little before setting the tray back down and returning to his seat. “You look like shit.”

“Thank you, asshole,” you correct, getting riled up. He’s fucking smiling. Seriously, why is he being so normal? “Now, leave. I’m gonna wash up so I look less like shit.”

“Sure,” he laughs. “I’ll come get you at around four?”

You look up. “Why?”

“To take some pretty photos around the city.” He’s up again, tray in his hands to return to the kitchen. 

“Why?” you continue to squint at him.

“Why not? I didn’t bring the camera at the party because some of the guys might’ve used it as a ping pong ball, so I wasn’t able to take any photos for the new year. But it’s still the first day of the year today. Let’s go make the most out of it.”

Cheesy as hell, but you’re already all dressed and ready to go out when he barges into your apartment again. He makes an impressed holler upon seeing you, saying that you look like a human being again, and you land a kick on his shin before locking up your door, Choi Beomgyu trailing behind you with an anguished yelp.

It’s late afternoon, the streets of downtown Seoul are uncharacteristically free. Most are probably still behind the shutters, nursing their post-new year’s hangover. Some are probably back in their hometowns for the holidays. You and Beomgyu trail down the walkway. Your hands are stuffed into your pockets, him holding up the digital camera to his chest while he whips his head around, probably looking for a pretty scene to capture. You laugh, racing up your steps as you walk ahead of him. “Pick up the pace, loser,” you call out, turning half-around to provoke him with a snicker.

Your lips quirk just in time for the sound of a click to stop your backwards walk. Beomgyu has the camera up to his face. He puts it down, grinning. 

“Hey!” You’ve halted in your steps, stomping down a single foot. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Like I said.” Beomgyu hums and looks down at the shot he just took, a satisfied look on his face upon inspection before flicking his eyes back up to you. “Taking pretty photos. Let’s go near the crosswalk. I think a shot would be nice there.”

You thought you were just going to accompany him on this excursion but somehow, you got roped into being a subject in the countless photos he’s taking. On the sidewalk. By a tree in the park. In the arcade. In the middle of walking into the facade of a cafe. Most of his shots are taken without warning, causing you to throw a mini-tantrum immediately after the taunting sound of the shutter. But all he does is laugh and shield the camera from you, assuring you that you look fine, that it’s pretty, that you guys should hurry off because the evening is nearing, and you’d just have to huff and and surrender and move on, else he’d notice the warmth on your cheeks and the stirring in your stomach.

“Ah, I want to try the mocha cake.”

“Then order it?”

“Now, I don’t want to because you’re telling me to.”

“You’re ten years old.”

“Nyenye, you’re ten years— hi! We’d like an iced matcha latte, iced americano, and a coffee mocha cake, please. Dine in, yes. Thanks.”

The things he’s always done that seemed so, so natural that you never even put a second thought to them suddenly linger in the forefront of your thoughts. The way he puts his lips on your straw even though you know he hates matcha just to annoy you. The way your hands rest on the table, his fingers tapping on your knuckles while droning on a rant about some game you don’t even know the name of. The way he naturally brushes a crumb off your face, shares a dessert with you, holds up the last bit of cake and icing on the fork in front of your mouth for you to have. Really, nothing has changed. Nothing has, but it feels like your entire life just got turned upside down thanks to the event of last night— of which neither of you are even addressing.

You still show up to each other’s places unannounced. You still go to 7-Eleven ice cream runs at three in the morning. You still shove your face into his arm while watching horror movies and screaming bloody murder, but nothing happens beyond that. 

Not once have you brought up the conversation you had under the table at the strike of the new year. Not even after a month has passed since then. 

It’s now the beginning of February, and you’re on campus to register for your classes next month. While there, you’re forced into the coding club room by the pest named Lee Heeseung. He rattles into your ear on the way there, talking about how they’re currently polishing the game they submitted to TXT Inc. (Which won. He never fails to emphasize that). When you get there, you’re jumped by three more boys wanting you to try out the said winning game. 

“C’mon, just give it a shot!” Hyunjin bulldozes you into the computer corner.

“We’ll walk you through!” Yeonjun chimes in right after. 

“I’m not— I’m not interested in your—” Jeongin sits you down on the seat. Heeseung is covering your path to escape. Yeonjun and Hyunjin are on the other side. God damn it. Where’s Hanbin? Where’s the only normal person here? Heeseung is messing with keyboard and mouse, the screen immediately loading, and you’re greeted by what appears to be a first person shooter game that honestly looks...pretty good? Wow. They actually worked hard on this. 

“What are you guys doing?”

All five of you turn your heads back to the door. It’s Beomgyu. He’s got a backpack on him, which he tosses off to the sofa before walking up to your huddle. “Great! You’re here!” Hyunjin welcomes him in. Beomgyu finds a spot in between Heeseung and Jeongin, curious eyes glancing down at you. “We’re trying to get her to play our game!”

“Oh?” Beomgyu hums, leaning down against the back of your chair. “Sounds fun. Go ahead. I want to see this too.”

Do they enjoy fucking with you this much? Is this their favorite hobby? For some reason, clicking start is making you more nervous than you expected. Your hand is literally shaking on the mouse and you can hear Heeseung snorting at the way your other hand is positioned on the keyboard. “I hate all of you,” you announce, the stage loading. “I really hate all of you.”

“This is gonna be fun,” Jeongin assures from behind you. “The controls are simple. You just—”

“No, let her figure things out by herself.”

“Okay, it’s start—”

“Go, go, go! Run! Start shooting!”

“What?! Shoot what?!”

“The enemies! No, no, you’re going the wrong way don’t—”

“What is this?! What’s going on?!”

“Oh my god, this is hilarious.”

“Am I dead? Is it over?”

“Dude,” Heeseung lurches over, laughing and wheezing. “You’re so bad. You suck.”

Beomgyu is also laughing with them. You give him a side-eye. He immediately shuts up, clearing his throat, but obviously still smiling in avid amusement. “Let’s try that again,” he says. “I’ll help you this time.”

He cracks his knuckles, teiling Jeongin to scoot over so he’s the one directly behind you now. No, you don’t want to try again. You start turning around, but are immediately stopped with a quiet squeak because Beomgyu leans forward, pushing the office chair further into the desk, and you stiffen when his arms stretch out to cage you in. “What—what are you doing?” you sputter. 

“These guys aren’t gonna leave you alone until you finish a level,” he simply says. His hands rest over yours on the keyboard, on the mouse. He’s pressed up against your upper back, your shoulders. He’s way too fucking close. 

“Awh. This is way less fun.”

At this point, your eyes aren’t even registering the screen, and Beomgyu is basically playing the game himself. The shooting noises and fighting sounds from the speakers run dull. Dizzy. You feel dizzy. “Nice! Good job,” he says. His low voice is a rumble right into your ears. “Hey, you’re doing it. Nice shot.”

You shoot up, nearly headbutting him in the process.

“What’s up?”

“Restroom,” you squeak out. “I need to go to the restroom.”

The cold splash of water against your face is very effective. You’re at the restroom, hands gripping the edges of the sink as you stare at your drenched face at the mirror. There are things that you can’t ignore anymore. You two should address what’s up as soon as possible. Otherwise, you’re going to go insane.

“Choi Beomgyu.”

Not now, though. You...you just haven’t gathered enough courage yet to talk to him about it yet.

“Pass me the pillow.”

Right now, you’re on your living room floor, the aftermath of your takeout lunch on the coffee table, and Beomgyu grabs a cushion from behind him on the couch and pats it down onto your laps, eyes glued to your laptop screen, a dog grooming YouTube video playing.

There’s still a little bit less than a month before the semester starts. Beomgyu is supposed to leave for Daegu in a bit. The Chois have a family event back home, and they invited you as well, but you promised to accompany Jung Sungchan for a seminar later this afternoon, so you had to decline. Beomgyu’s brother is in the city, so he doesn’t have to drive or commute all the way there. He’s gonna get picked up in like, thirty minutes, so he decided to wait around and loiter at your place for the time being.

The entire time he’s been here, seemingly unbothered and unchanged even after the new year’s thing, you’ve been trying to get your shit together and just clear the air. What the fuck are you two now? Does he even remember what happened? Or is he just trying to sweep it under the rug? Is he overthinking about it just as much as you are right now? What the hell is going on?

“What are you thinking about?”

The video he’s watching has ended. His attention is now completely on you.

“Uh,” you stammer. “Yeon—Yeonjun seonbae is the only graduating student from the club, right?”

“Ah. Yeah,” he hums in affirmation. He twists his body a bit, crossed-legs slightly turned towards you, and he places an arm on the sofa seat, head resting on the knuckles of his hand. “The guys are planning on throwing a party this weekend to celebrate. To, you know, send him off.”

“He’s probably gonna end up crying again, isn’t he.” You attempt to dissuade your brain for now. 

“Oh, definitely,” he laughs. “We’re gonna set up cameras in the clubroom. He won’t be safe.”

Bzzt bzzt. The both of you look at his vibrating phone on the table, right next to your laptop. Beomgyu grunts in annoyance (and slight back pain), pulling himself up to grab the device. You silently watch while he takes the call. He looks so annoyed. You’d be making fun of him right now if your brain wasn’t in so much of a mess.

“Hyung,” Beomgyu whines into the phone. “What do you mean meet you at the gas station? That’s so inconvenient. Ugh, fine. What time are you gonna be there?” You shoot him a thumbs up. He pushes it down, hand enclosing the back of your fist, and he continues complaining into the phone. “Just text me before you start driving. Yeah, she’s here. Do you wanna say hi?”

He hands you his phone. You clear your throat and put it up to your ear with your free hand. “Hi, hyung, how have you been? Yeah, he’s at my place again. A freeloader— exactly!” Beomgyu squeezes your knuckles at that remark, visibly pouting and offended. You brush him off. “Ah, yeah. Sorry I can’t join you guys. Maybe next time, I’ll be able to—”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Beomgyu snatches the phone back. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll wait for you there. Bye, hyung. Later.”

The end of the call signals that you two should maybe start cleaning up. You throw out the boxes, wash the dishes and cups you used and tidy up the living room floor and couch. Beomgyu is grumbling the entire time, asking if you really have to attend the stupid seminar later. “I’m not gonna flake on my friends, Beomgyu.” You lean against the doorway with your arms crossed, seeing him out. He frowns. “You’re gonna be gone for three days right?” 

“Yeah,” he responds, audibly deflated. 

A huff of air blows past your lips. Three days. You should just talk to him once he gets back. “Have you packed already? Need any help?”

“No, I already took care of everything last night.”

“Wow,” you laugh, impressed. “That’s so unlike you. You’re well prepared for once.”

Beomgyu doesn’t respond to your jab with the same energy. “I didn’t want to spend the entire morning packing when I can use it to spend a bit more time with you.” 

Instead, he decides to be sweet. Honest. 

You feel your rib cage rattle, your stomach stir. “O—oh,” you rasp out. “Um.”

“What’s with the look?” he laughs a little, taking a step forward. Your back is still pressed against the doorframe. Beomgyu’s arm reaches up further above your head, pushing himself closer. “I thought that much was obvious when I knocked at your door at nine in the morning.”

When you follow his gaze, you can tell that his eyes are tracing the lines on your lips, eyelids heavy. Your breath hitches in your throat. Shit. Oh my god. Is he going to kiss you? Is he leaning it to kiss you? You’re about to freak the fuck out and Beomgyu seems to notice that. He pulls back, allowing the air to circulate back into your lungs, and he lets out a sigh. 

His arm falls down to his side. “You can still take it back,” he says. You look at him, brows furrowed. What? Take what back? Beomgyu waits for you to answer, and when you don’t, he decides that it’s best to be more clear. “We can pretend like what happened on new year’s didn’t happen— uh, remain with what we’re used to if you’re not fine with this. If you think we’re better off as friends like we’ve always been, I don’t mind. I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Oh. Oh. You weren’t ready to talk about this yet. You planned to talk about this three days later, but when did your plans ever work? Never. 

Beomgyu attempts a smile and starts heading back to his apartment. “We can talk more once I get back so you can think about it. I’ll go get my—”

“No, wait.”

You grab hold of his arm. Beomgyu turns back, surprised. 

“I’ve al—already been thinking about it. I’ve been thinking a lot.” Crap. Your throat is dry. You didn’t plan any of this. You weren’t expecting to say this to him right now at all. “What I’m saying is—”

Choi Beomgyu looks a little expectant. You suck in a sharp breath. This feels weird. It’s like there’s something jittering at the base of your stomach. Many things, fluttering all the way up to your ribcage and throat and causing your cheeks to flare up.

“We...we can give it a try.”

There. You said it. You finally fucking said it and you can breathe again. Your gaze focuses on Beomgyu, heart racing, and his expression is yet again indecipherable.

He takes a step towards you. Your nerves jolt when you feel his touch on the arch of your spine, pulling you in even closer. “You sure?” 

You let out a squeak. “Tech—technically, I was the one who asked you out, so shouldn’t I— shouldn’t I take responsibility…?”

Beomgyu takes a moment’s pause at your resolution. You’re nervous. You’re so nervous right now that you might have severely fucked up. He looks at you. He looks at you in a way that makes you want to avert your eyes, face flushed from the heat of the moment, only for him to release the tension with a big laugh, fully embracing you by the waist, and dropping his head down onto your shoulder before lifting it back up to look at you with a wide smile. “Yeah. Yeah, you should.”

This time, when he leans in again, doesn’t draw back midway. 

You feel his lips on yours and your eyes flutter wide open, heart rate spiking up and up and up until your lips part, him kissing you deeper, until you can’t keep them open anymore. Beomgyu’s hold around your waist loosens, one hand traveling up to the back of your head before it could collide with the doorframe when you stumble back as you lose the strength in your knees, and before you know it, you’ve got your hands tangled in his hair, dizzy and short-winded and making you think that this— this isn’t so bad.

He draws his lips back with a heavy exhale. “God,” he sighs out as the heat of his breath hits your skin. Your foreheads are pressed together, eyes hazy and cloudy when he leans in again, mumbling into your mouth, “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this.”

The reverie ends when a jolt of self-consciousness hits you belatedly. Your hands travel down to his chest, barely pushing off in a surge of sudden panic. Your face is burning, your lips feel fuzzy, and Beomgyu looks both surprised and disappointed which makes the churning in your stomach even worse. “A—a—aren’t you supposed to go now?” you stutter out, still a little breathless. Holy shit. That just happened. 

“You’re right,” Beomgyu responds. “I should go now.” But his body language isn’t showing any signs of leaving. You wait for him to budge. He doesn’t.

Somehow, you manage to push him off you and finally drag him out of the building with his backpack in tow, much to his whines and protests. His brother has been endlessly calling him with all calls left unanswered except for this one. “I’m going! I’m almost there.” He is not. He’s at the bottom steps of the apartment building. 

“Text me when you arrive,” you tell him, ready to head back inside. Beomgyu pockets his phone, looking more alive than ever and it’s annoying you a little.

“Mhm,” he hums in response. His eyes flicker down, debating whether or not to put whatever he’s thinking about with that into action, but decides against it and settles for a rough pat and a ruffle on your head instead, pressing out a small smile. “See you when I get back.” You wave him goodbye as he disappears out into the road. He sends you a text the moment he meets up with his brother.

It’s still a little awkward. You still can’t wrap your mind around this change after being nothing more than just two good friends for two decades. You’re just glad he isn’t trying to rush it. What doesn’t change is his incessantly annoying texts every goddamned hour throughout the three days he’s away. 

And indeed, you do see him when he gets back. He’s supposed to go shopping for the Yeonjun farewell party tomorrow anyway, so you decide to meet him at the station and just proceed to the store immediately after. When he departs from the train and sees you waiting amidst the crowd, he immediately comes rushing over like a puppy. Christ, Minjeong was right. 

Admittedly, you can’t get used to this yet. He’s always been touchy, but they’ve always been subtle. Devouring you into a bone crushing embrace to the point where all you can see and feel with your face is the fur of his jacket isn’t exactly subtle. The sounds of trains zipping, people chatting flood your senses. You quite frankly, cannot breathe. “Hey, chill out. It’s literally been only three days.”

“Bleh, whatever. Chill out, fuck off. Just let me have this.”

Your attempts to wrestle your way out of this good-natured suffocation is fruitless. You used to be able to push him around like nothing back in middle school. How far you have fallen.

“We still have errands to run,” you grunt out, managing to at the very least pop your head out from being smothered into his chest. He looks down at you, bitterly clicking his tongue and loosening his grip a bit. “Jeez, do you like me or something?”

That was supposed to be a joke. Beomgyu doesn’t find it very funny because he suddenly draws back, arms crossed and expression utterly exasperated. “Are you serious? Are you an idiot?”

“I was just pushing your buttons, stupid,” you shoot him a glare, taking advantage of your freedom to start walking ahead and out of the station.

“You’re stupid.”

There isn’t a day where Beomgyu doesn’t decide to irritate the crap out of you. He’s walking behind you. He’s stepping on the back of your shoes and bumping into you like a sixth grader. “Quit it!”

“Make me.”

He’s so annoying. He continues being annoying even at the event supplies stores downtown, where you’re picking up some streamers and party hats for tomorrow. You and he debate between hot pink and baby pink for the color theming. Rock paper scissors declare hot pink the winner and you get paper plates and cups in matching colors. “By the way,” Beomgyu starts, putting in two party poppers into the basket once you’re done loading up the utensils. “I met up with some of the guys from highschool yesterday. You know. Seungmin and Jimin. They were back in town for the holidays as well.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember them,” you respond, not very enthusiastically. The memory still leaves a bitter taste in your mouth like a permanent carpet burn. Beomgyu notices you shooting daggers at the innocent, inflated teddy bear balloon right in front of you. He tugs on your hand and leads you to the checkout counter before you can vent your temper at the poor balloon. “Anyway, how are they? Did you guys hang out?”

“Same old. We hit up the PC room for old times sake,” he hums, waiting as the cashier buzzes your items. “Actually, our high school batch is apparently planning a small reunion or get together of some sorts here in Seoul. They’re asking if we wanted to attend too.”

Well. You don’t exactly want to mingle with a bunch of kids that you weren’t even close with back then. And your social battery is already beyond depleted and has had no chance of ever getting a full recovery after all the events from December to January.

You mull it over while the counter finishes bagging your things. The both of you decide to make a pitstop at a nearby cafe. After ordering, you two pick a table on the outside porch because the weather is nice out. Beomgyu drags the metal chair from across so that he’s sitting next to you. Again, Kim Minjeong might’ve been onto something when she called him a puppy with severe attachment issues. The server comes by with your order. Your caffeine intake has been atrocious so you opted for a lychee drink instead, and he settles with a regular latte. Beomgyu hums out a tune while stirring his coffee, playfully hooking his opposite leg with yours underneath the table.

“About the reunion thing,” you chime up. “Will Chaeryoung be there?” 

“How should I know,” he grimaces after trying out your drink. At this point, you think he’s faking it. “She’s your friend, not mine.”

He just keeps pushing your buttons today. “Hey, jerk.” You snatch back the drink from under his chin, visibly provoked. “Why have you gotten even more annoying now that we’re— we’re. We’re—”

Your initial attitude is immediately gone. You choke on your words, one left unsaid because at this point it’s still a little fucking embarrasing, especially with how Choi Beomgyu’s is eyeing you with a shit eating expression while taking a sip from his coffee.

“Now that we’re what?” he hums in provocation, smiling that annoying smile of his with twinkling eyes. “C’mon. Say it.”

“Fuck you, nevermind—”

“No, I want to hear this! Now what we’re what?” Suddenly, he’s twisting over his chair to directly face you. You groan and quickly jerk away when you notice he’s enjoying this a little too much. You seriously want to sock him in the face. “Do you want me to stop being annoying? Hey! Hey, look at me!”

You let out a squeak when you feel his palms on your warm cheeks, turning your head to face him in bewilderment and you panic and hold onto your chair. “What the hell are you—”

“Tell me,” he interrupts. “What do you want me to do?”

This bastard wants to kill you via heart failure. Any ability to speak coherently has completely left your body.. “I, uh, well—”

“Hm?” he touts even further. “What was that?”

You hate him. You hate him so much. You want to hide and bury your face into the ground, and he’s just visibly laughing at you like a sick freak.

Beomgyu finally releases his hold on your face to snatch both of your hands instead. He pulls them towards his chest, but his eyes remain on you, the sheer amusement never leaving his gaze. “Do you want me to be sweeter?” he hums, tracing his thumbs over your knuckles before pressing a light kiss in between the narrow gap. “I can do that.”

His eyes are still trained on you, almost taunting.

“Baby?”

Then the sun spits on your face and you feel the primal instinct to book it and run away.

“Sweetie?” He tugs you forward, pulling your forearms into his chest, just in time for him to land a peck on your nose. “Darling?”

But you can’t run away. No. Because Choi Beomgyu has you hostage while he attacks you with an onslaught of cringey endearments and butterfly kisses on the face to remind you that he is, in fact, strong now, and you can’t do anything about it. Had you known he was going to torment you like this, you should’ve just taken it all back.

“Ow! Why are you hitting me, I’m just doing what you wanted me to do— ow! Then again, dipshit does suit you better than—ow! This is assault!” 

“You’re assault!” you screech out, finally managing to retrieve your bearings and you immediately cross your arms over the table, next to your barely touched lychee drink, and bury your face, never to see the light of day ever again. You hear Beomgyu having the time of his life next to you, laughing like an asshole. You send a blind kick in his direction. It hits. His cackling stops and he makes another pained noise.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry,” you hear him say. Then you hear the squeak of the chair, a bump on your elbow, and you peek out to see him laying his head on his crossed arms on the table as well, facing you. “I was just happy to see you again.”

You stare at him. How the fuck are you supposed to keep protesting when he’s being like this. “Beomgyu, you were gone for three days.”

“Three days too long,” he whines, muffling himself into his sleeves. “I’m with you every single day. I was suffering from withdrawals especially when my parents and your parents kept asking me why I didn’t bring you this year.” He tosses his head back up, suddenly looking at you with narrowed eyes and petulantly pursed lips. “And to think that when I got back, all I’ve been getting are swears and punches and rejection and— ah, my heart is wounded. I won’t ever recover from this. Never, ever, not even in a million— mmph!”

Choi Beomgyu’s eyes are wide, the tips of his fingers lifted up to his slightly parted mouth after you’d just shot up to shut up his never ending yapping by kissing him. There’s a heavy blush on his cheeks and even though yours are a little warm too, the corner of your lips involuntarily quirk upward. Holy shit. So, this is how it feels to be on the attacking end. Choi Beomgyu, you can eat shit and die. “Hah. Two can play it that game, fuckf—”

“Oh my god?!”

Your victory is cut short. Your blood runs cold. You should’ve remembered that you’re on the outside deck of a cafe right now, where people can just freely pass by and see you. You two are, in fact, seen, not just by any people. 

With the creaks of hesitance in your joints, you turn to the sound of the very appalled, very alarmed, very familiar voice. There, you see Kim Minjeong and Sung Hanbin standing with shopping bags, some of which have fallen on the floor, all of which are for what you assume is Yeonjun’s farewell party. The former looks at you in horror. The latter is just smiling and waving. “What the fuck did I just see?” Minjeong croaks out. “Tell me, what the fuck did I just see?”

“I—I can explain!” you quickly sputter out. You turn to Beomgyu for help, but the fucker is still lost in a lovestruck daze. Oh my god. You want to die.

“Congratulations,” Hanbin happily remarks. You want to die very much. Maybe at the hands of Minjeong because she’s marching up the deck and her eyes are on fire. 

Somehow, you manage to smooth things over. You fill them in with what happened on new year, and Minjeong says she saw this coming but still can’t accept it because you’re way too good for Beomgyu, which snaps him out of it and they get into a squabble. “So you approved of Jang Seung but not me?!” Hanbin is all smiles, though, and he promised to keep it a secret from the rest of the coding club guys for now because you don’t even want to imagine what would happen if they find out. Heeseung especially. Oh god. It’s going to be a disaster.

The disaster comes not even twenty-four hours later, at Yeonjun’s farewell party. 

Most of the morning, you all spend the time to decorate the clubroom and set up all the cameras to record Yeonjun’s inevitable sobfest. Hot pink and white streamers are hung around and about. There are balloons on the wall spelling CONGRATULATIONS, Y3ONJUN! because there weren’t any letter E’s available. The boxes of pizza and chicken arrive. Jeongin walks in with a cake. You’re all decked out in party hats and birthday trumpets while waiting for the man of the hour to arrive.

“Pink or brighter pink?” Beomgyu asks, holding up the two cones for your perusal. You’re both wedged in a corner in the room, slightly detached from the rest of the group scuttling by the door.

“First one,” you hum, and he draws the string down, tapping the cone cap on the crown of your head while he slowly lets go of the string once it’s set underneath your chin. Beomgyu takes a step back, examining his work, before nodding into a satisfied smile and putting his own party hat on himself.

He’s. He’s so dumb. You brush off a smile with the shake of your head, and in doing so you inadvertently lock eyes with Heeseung, who seems to have witnessed the entire exchange and is now squinting at you— like he’s trying to understand something. Clearing your throat, you look away before he can take your eye contact as an invitation to talk, and Heeseung is just about to approach when the clubroom door clatters open, a series of party poppers go off, confetti shoots out, right in time for Yeonjun to step in, eyes wide in half-fear, half-surprise.

“Wh—whoa, what? Hey, what’s going on?”

In a matter of seconds, things escalate. Congratulations are yelled out. Some happy birthdays (whatever makes them happy). The pink graduation cake is released. It takes a moment for Yeonjun to let it all sink in, and when it does, the boys’ predictions are ultimately proven correct because he tries to play it off that he’s definitely, absolutely not crying (he is). 

They laugh at him, make fun of him, and group hugs are shared. It’s all very silly and very cute. You’re on photo taking duty until Hyunjin pulls you into their mess of limbs and yelling and sobs until you’re finally able to wiggle out back into your corner. 

Beomgyu returns to your corner with a slice of cake on a paper plate, two forks, and a dollop of icing on the tip of his nose. 

“Is that a new look you’re trying?” you laugh, taking one of the forks on the plate.

“What are you talking about?” His brows are furrowed. You tap on your nose. Beomgyu mirrors your movement, still confused until he feels the smudge of icing, and he draws his hand away with disgust. “God damn it. Jeongin, that rat.” Despite his desire for revenge, Choi Beomgyu doesn’t leave the corner. He stays there with you, watching all the rest of the boys making a mess as you share your cake, plucking off a crumb from the corner of your mouth while you wheeze at Heeseung trying and failing to pin the tail on the Yeonjun-donkey. 

“Idiot, to your left! Left! That’s not your—”

“Hey, hold still for a sec—”

“Are you directionally— oh!”

Lee Heeseung rips off his blindfold— ready to whine at you— but that intention immediately simmers down to something else when he snaps his head just in time for him to witness Beomgyu touching your face and getting away with it unscathed. You jolt. Heeseung’s eyes are narrowed at you. “Hey, what’s going—”

“We got a noise complaint! ICT publication from next door!”

“Ugh, party poopers.”

“Choi Beomgyu, go deal with it.”

Thank god for that interruption. The man in question doesn’t seem as happy about it, though. “What? Why me?” he groans in protest. You see Heeseung pause mid-stride towards the both of you.

“Because we need someone with charisma to make sure we don’t get in trouble and Yeonjun hyung is useless right now.” Hyunjin reasons. Cut to Yeonjun who’s still sobbing his eyes out at the paper roll of messages you guys wrote for him. He really is useless. Beomgyu sees the waterworks and lets out another grunt.

“Ugh.” Pouting, Beomgyu turns back to you, handing you the plate and finishing it off by messing up your hair. “I’ll be right back.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Quit acting like you won’t miss me, meanie.”

You stick your tongue out. Beomgyu rolls his eyes and heads off with Hyunjin outside to deal with the complaint, hooking the latter by the neck with his arm. You’re about to finish up your cake when Heeseung replaces Beomgyu’s spot. You nearly choke on the damn thing when he suddenly bolts up saying, “Hey. Why the fuck are you two acting so weird?”

“Jesus fucking—” you cough. “What the hell are you talking about?”

The look of suspicion never leaves Heeseung’s face. You can feel it— cold sweat breaking. Shit. Is this it? Is this the end of your peace and quiet? “Beomgyu has been all up in your space since we started preparing and at this point, you would’ve sworn at him at least two dozen times already,” he starts. “I haven’t heard your unrecyclable mouth utter even a shit or damn. There hasn’t even been any bickering and it’s freaking me out.”

Of all times, why does he decide to be perceptive now? You can’t even muster up a response. Thank god he’s a yapper because he fills in the silence himself.

“Well, whatever,” Heeseung simply shrugs. “I guess that’s a good thing because my ears are spared from your potty mouth just for today.” 

He’s perceptive but not sharp. Today, you are saved. “Go suck a dick.”

“That’s the spirit. Back to normal.” Your friend grins and gives you a thumbs up. You shoot him a glare and he blocks your punch with his palm. “But did something happen? The vibe between you and he is a little different. How do I put it?” You struggle to remove your fist from the bastard’s grip, but he doesn’t let you budge while he continues to ponder. “It’s like you’re a couple of high schoolers who just started dating or some shit, haha. Something like that.”

You rip your hand away and press it close to your chest.

“Yo, what’s with the face?”

Turns out, your good for nothing friend has been speaking a little too loud that it’s gotten quiet. Quiet in anticipation because everyone in the room is looking at you right now— including Beomgyu, who’d just gotten back with Hyunjin after their successful mission. “Whoa, what’s going on?” Hyunjin asks. You gulp. You look at Beomgyu, who’s a little taken aback by what’s going down. Oh, you’re so fucking screwed.

“Wait, why aren’t you denying it?”

How could you when Choi Beomgyu is looking straight at you? Sure, you don’t want them to find out, but you don’t have the heart to deny it and make Beomgyu upset, either! You remain quiet for five, sixe seconds— several seconds too late because they construe your silence as a yes, and Heeseung’s eyes start beaming, and it gets loud again, and your face is starting to grow way too hot for you to handle

“Oh my god? Oh my fucking god? Oh my god, my biggest wish is finally happening— guys! Guys!”

That’s it. It’s over. It’s all over. The news spreads like wildfire, but it’s all Heeseung’s hearsay until a confirmation comes out from either of you two’s mouths. Heeseung is shaking you by the shoulders. Yeonjun is crying even more. Hanbin is watching everything with a smile and he sends you an assuring thumbs up, but you don’t feel assured at all. From the corner of your eye, you can also see Beomgyu getting assaulted. He’s got Hyunjin and Jeongin yelling at him from both sides. He looks like he’s getting a migraine.

“Is it true?! Did you two really decide to date?”

“No way! Not with how adamantly she’s been against—”

“Wait, this isn’t our business, we shouldn’t—”

“Who asked who out? C’mon, you gotta tell us!”

Despite it all, Beomgyu’s usually loud mouth remains quiet. He says nothing to them. Instead, he meets eyes with you from across the room— a cock of his head, a slight raise of his brow as if to say just give me the signal, what do you want me to do? 

You feel as though you’ve already been asking him for too many favors this year. You suck in a sharp inhale, and, while ignoring Heeseung’s vigorous shaking of your person, answer Hyunjin’s question in his stead. “I did,” you said. “I asked him. On new year’s. Under the table.”

Heeseung suddenly freezes. You squeeze your eyes shut and look down, cheeks burning. Then you hear a scream.

“You?! You?!”

“This is crazy. What the fuck, I don’t believe it.”

“I knew it! I knew something big happened then! Gosh, I fucking knew it!”

“You were barely conscious then, how could you know—”

“About time, really.”

“Hey, I’m so happy for you two,” Yeonjun suddenly saunters up to you, eyes red and threatening to spill again. He sniffles and pulls you into a hug. “I’m just so...so—”

And your shoulder is wet. You give him a few pats on the bag as you watch Beomgyu fed off his rabid fans from jumping him while he attempts to move closer to you. He manages to succeed by announcing that he needs to talk to you in private and then go crazy. He doesn’t succeed as much in prying Yeonjun off of you, though. You’re both suffocated in a group hug and best wishes from the soon-to-graduate club member. 

“Hey, I hope none of you have forgotten who this party is actually for,” you raise in the hopes of dissuading the situation. Which works. Somehow. You’re in no position to question a blessing from the skies.

“Sideshow over! Time to watch the message video—”

“Where’s the cord? Whose laptop are we using again?”

“Hey, nobody leaves until we clean everything up! Jeongin, I’m looking at you.”

Regardless, Heeseung wouldn’t leave you alone until you fess everything up to him. Even after the party, he kept texting and calling you to tell him the how, what, where, and why. Mostly because he wanted to confirm that he has all the credit of introducing you both through that blind date. It was very funny to see his entire world shatter when you told him that you and Beomgyu had known each other since forever. He stopped bothering you after that and decided it’s not fun anymore to tease you.

Unfortunately, the rest of his club members haven’t tired themselves out yet. When Beomgyu told them he wasn’t gonna join their night out this weekend because you guys had the high school reunion thing he mentioned to you the other day, they refused to believe him and that he was just making an excuse to spend time with you. You owe Hwang Hyunjin a punch to the gut. He must’ve forgotten that there was a reason he was scared of you the first time you met.

Anyhow, those headaches are set aside because you have a different headache to deal with— that is, the impending hell of meeting your high school classmates again. You contacted Chaeryoung the other day, asking if she’s also attending and she responded with a sudden call, which turned into a two-hour catching up session. Needless to say, you have no choice but to show up now. 

It’s the day of, and you’re getting ready inside the bedroom apartment. There’s soft music humming through the turntable Beomgyu gave you as a Christmas gift, loaded with the record you bought last month. It’s the same song he played onstage two months ago. The room is dimmed, the bronze ceiling light the only thing illuminating the walls, floor, the bedsheet you’re sinking into and the mess of makeup items scattered about, as well as Choi Beomgyu’s face that’s inches away from yours— a focused look of concentration etched on his pursed lips as he brings up a brush up to your cheekbone.

“Hey, stop that! It tickles!” you laugh, albeit unwillingly, as you swat his hand away. “If you mess up I’m gonna have to wipe my entire face off and start over.” You feel your phone vibrating next to your hand that’s pressed into the mattress. Must be from Chaeryoung. You look down to grab it, but Beomgyu taps on the side of your jaw, lifting your face up to look at him.

“Who cares? We’re already late anyway.” His brows are all knitted up in concentration, wielding your lipstick wand like it’s a scalpel and he’s about to perform open heart surgery. Why is he taking this so seriously? He barged in while you were putting on makeup earlier and bragged that he could actually be pretty good at this, and you egged him on to prove it. So far, he’s been all talk, sweating after tapping on barely any product on your cheeks with your blush brush. “Stay still, dipshit. Unless you want to end up looking like a clown.”

“I’ll kill you if you mess up.”

“Then maybe shut your mouth for a sec.”

“Nyeye, then maybe shut your mouth for a—”

“Shush! I’m concentrating!”

You muffle down a laugh, seeing him try so hard. You can see the sweat bead trailing down his forehead as he lifts up your chin with one hand and now brings a shade of lipstick to your lips with the other. There’s a jitter of hesitation the moment you feel the product brush against your lips— a light press and a pause. You look up at his eyes but he’s not looking at yours. And then you watch as Beomgyu’s takes a deep breath while clumsily applying the product in a rush, mumbling something you can’t quite hear under his breath, and he twists the wand back into its container before tossing it onto your bed.

“What was that?” you ask, grabbing his wrist before he could retreat. You can see him even under this dim light. You can see just how red his ears are. You fight back the urge to laugh and make fun of him outright. You need a different strategy to win against him. “What did you say?”

Beomgyu is still not looking at you. He’s not fighting against your grip, but the heat has traveled down to his neck as he continues to look away. “I said pretty,” he coughs out, then repeats, “your lips are pretty.” Your grip loosens. He takes this as an opportunity to peek at you once more. Which proves to be the wrong move. “No, your entire face is pretty. What the hell? How am I supposed to make fun of you now? This is pissing me off.”

You don’t recall giving him any blush, but Choi Beomgyu is blushing red when he stomps out of your room in a fit. You’re flustered yourself, but your annoyance and confusion overtakes any other emotion as you quickly gather your purse and phone and wallet to catch up to him and his sudden tantrum.

“Now, why the fuck would that piss you off, you dick?!”

You’re both in your living room now. Beomgyu is throwing on his coat when he snarks back, “See! Because it doesn’t match your vulgar mouth and nasty personality!”

“You talk as if you’re any better than me, fuckface.” Somehow, you’re both on your way out now, walking down the hallway and down the stairs to the lobby as your…civilized conversation continues. “In fact, your mouth is way worse than mine.”

“Lies!” he barks back. You’re both out of the building now. “Statistically speaking, you swear exponentially more times than me.”

“You failed our statistics and probability final in ninth grade. Don’t get smart with me. And should I show you the voice recordings Heeseung sends me whenever you two are playing a game? Your mother would cry if she heard them.”

“I can’t believe you’re using my own strategy against me.” Now, you’re walking to the parking lot and even while he’s ranting, Beomgyu manages to lead you right to his car. “And mind you, those are exceptional circumstances. In general and on average, you are the worst offender of all. There isn’t a day where you don’t tell me to fuck off or eat shit, and I’m not the only victim. There’s Heeseung. There’s Sungchan. There’s—”

His throat holds his words hostage. You are being held hostage in between him and his car when he leans in to open the passenger door for you, hand already on the handle, but Beomgyu remains unmoving. His lips are pressed tightly, together and a wrinkle creases the space between his eyebrows.

Then, he breathes out a swear.

“Dammit.”

His grip leaves the door, cups your cheeks, and lunges in for a kiss like a crazy person.

The first moment, you’re shocked and wide-eyed and wondering what the fuck is this idiot trying to pull. The next moment, you find yourself getting swept up in his insanity, wide eyes fluttering close with your arms around his neck, securing another five minutes of tardiness to the event, and the five minutes end with his exhaled breaths warming up your lips amidst the cold evening. “I swear to god, Choi Beomgyu,” you grunt, barely shoving him away. What was the point of his whole make-up guru charade earlier? What was the point if he was gonna smudge it all off anyway? “There’s seriously something wrong with you.”

Your complaint is met by a pout and him retaliating by pulling you in with one arm, and his free hand finding its way to your face. “Is this your way of breaking up with me?”

He’s insufferable. “You wish.”

“No, I don’t,” is his quick reply. It almost made your heart stutter— even more so when he uses his thumb to wipe the corner of your lips with the disappointed click of his tongue. “Sorry I ruined your lipstick. I’ll fix it in the car.”

You smack his hand away, covering your face with the back of your hand. “It was ruined the moment you put it on!” You quickly whisk yourself into the car, finally. Beomgyu follows into the driver’s seat not long after, but not without yelling out his self-defense.

“Hey, I did a pretty good job! I just need a bit more practice!”

Sometime in the middle of the car ride, the argument fizzled out and got replaced by his playlist, and a conversation on when you’d be coming back home to Daegu before the semester starts since your mom wants to show off the new sofa set she bought. It’s very cozy, she says, with the only downside being the fact that it’s too cozy to the point that your dad’s evening naps have become more frequent.

It’s just mindless meandering on the way to the venue— a karaoke room at Grand Hyatt Hotel that you and the rest of your attending batchmates chipped in to book. Of the thirty students from your batch, twenty-three confirmed attendance including Beomgyu and yourself. Of the other twenty-one people, you’re only close with one of them.

Maybe your endless prattling about your mom’s new cushions and throw pillows to distract yourself from why you even volunteered yourself to attend. Maybe you’re just using Chaeryeong as an excuse to validate yourself and witness exactly how much you’ve and everyone else has changed since highschool in spite of your vocalized disinterest. 

“You good?” 

The car engine has stopped humming. The streetlight road has been replaced by a dim hotel parking lot, and you turn to see the dim image of Choi Beomgyu’s blurry face eyeing you in concern. You recall his initial surprise when you voiced out your intent on coming with him this evening. Not that he’d stopped you, but you figure even his dummy self could put your initial reservations, and the confession you dropped a few months ago when you made up after your fight. I’ve only been known as the girl who’s always been around you and nothing else. I doubt you noticed how people would only approach me because of you. 

It still makes you cringe whenever that memory would creep into your brain like a rat at two in the morning when you’re trying to sleep. Sure, things are different now, but you felt that way at a time when your world consisted of nothing more than your town back in Daegu, and eighty percent of your life was spent in high school. You’re stepping back into that world right now, where you’re nothing but Choi Beomgyu’s friend, acquaintance, something— never had been just yourself. 

And you know Beomgyu knows that this is exactly what you’re thinking about right now. Which is why he doesn’t get out of the car yet, and instead asks, “Do you wanna just ditch and go hang out somewhere else?”

You let out a laugh. He’s such a dork. “No way. Chaeryeong’s gonna sulk if I don’t see her today, and I could use a few drinks, you know.” You have no intention of stripping him the opportunity to hang out with his old friends again. You’ve seen how much his phone has been buzzing on the way here. Why does he have so many clingy male friends? You’ll never understand. Choi Beomgyu is just some guy.

That some guy stares at you for a bit as he mulls over your answer. “If you say so. But if you wanna leave early, just tell me.”

Seriously. It’s not like he treats them like this, for them to go crazy over hum. Then again, maybe this guy just has the inherent knack of drawing people in. You’ve been a witness of that phenomenon for the past two decades, and you’re witnessing it again tonight, counting down from the moment you two leave the car and enter the building, enter the karaoke lounge, and despite Choi Beomgyu (and you) interrupting an ongoing performance by Seungmin and Jimin on the machine, the response to his entrance is, quite frankly, a bit over the top.

“Look who’s finally here.”

“Man, what took you so long?”

“Woohoo! Time to get the party started!”

Neon lights are already lighting up the dim room. Beer bottles have already been cracked open on the tables. You watch as he gets whisked away by his old high school friend group, stifling your laughter because maybe Choi Beomgyu has changed because he looks a little overwhelmed and taken aback by the assault of attention. Surprisingly, it’s a very funny sight. He turns back to you while Jiwoong hooks him by the neck and ushers him into the lounge as if he’s asking for help. Which draws attention to you, obviously. His friends turn around. The first one to greet you is Seungmin. “Oh, hey!” he exclaims, leaning in for a quick half-hug. “It’s good to see you again. How have you been?”

“I’ve been stuck at the door for the past few minutes due to the traffic you idiots are causing, thank you very much for asking,” you respond after pulling back, smiling.

“You still have an attitude,” he snarks. “And you two are still joint at the hip. Did you arrive together?”

“Yup. I’m getting sick of him, so I’d appreciate it if you take him away from me now.”

“You can bet on it.”

Before Beomgyu could protest, he’s already been handed the mic and had been fed a shot glass. The rest of the guys follow suit in giving you quick greetings, how are you’s, how have you been’s. You still haven’t seen Chaeryeong around so you shoot her a text. She responds with exclamation marks and the text, [WAIT A SECOND. BATHROOM. BE THERE IN A BIT], and she emerges through the door not long after to greet you with the gift of suffocation. “Oh my god, I missed you so much,” she wheezes out. “Why haven’t we made plans even once since starting uni? I know we talked a bit last time but how have you been? Has Choi Beomgyu been treat—”

You prompt shut her mouth with your hand. You did keep her posted over the phone last time, but you don’t intend on sharing the status update between you and Choi Beomgyu to your whole class that had been under the assumption that you’ve been together, anyway. It’s none of their business— and definitely not the business of the girl that had been staring at you the whole goddamn time since you arrived here.

Among the twenty-one people that came today is Haena. Haena, the girl that invited you to hang out with her friends for coffee around a year ago. Haena, the girl who kept grilling you about your relationship with Beomgyu, just to ask if you could help her get together with him. Haena and her friends, Bora and Seohyun, who’d been drilling holes into the back of your head for the past fifteen or so minutes. Last you’ve heard of her, she’s studying nursing at DSU. 

You’ve never told Beomgyu about the little incident because it never escalated into anything more than dirty looks in the hallway and the classroom and the proliferation of gossip about you and Choi Beomgyu. And since nearly a whole year had passed, you were hoping that that was all water under the bridge now, but apparently it’s not. Jesus, what does she want?

“Okay, okay, let’s stop the singing for now since everyone’s already here and raise our drinks up! To the class of 20XX!”

You’ve no intention of letting that bother the rest of your night. Yet Haena wasn’t the only bitter aftertaste of that period of your life. An hour or so into the evening, you get out of the karaoke lounge to get a breather in the lobby. Choi Beomgyu is still trapped inside thanks to his ten million fanboys-slash-friends. Chaeryeong wanted to come with you but she got roped into a drinking game and has shown no signs of escaping. Which leaves you some time to recharge a bit before the inevitable agenda of reminiscence once everyone’s gotten a bit too drunk and loose-lipped.

On the way to the hotel lobby, you bump into Jiwoong— that guy, ex-crush, who rejected you in the rain two years back, maybe. So much for water under the bridge because just looking at him makes you feel mortified. He greets you with a nod and a smile before walking past you back into the lounge. God, that was an embarrassing moment. You shake your head and race into the hall leading up to the carpeted lobby.

Unfortunately for you, you weren’t the only one with the same idea.

There, sitting defeated and exhausted on one of the plush seats is Lim Jimin. Embarrassing encounter number two. He notices you. You two make eye contact. Fuck. Yes, you two exchanged awkward hello’s earlier, but seeing his face just makes you recount the humiliation you felt when you expected a confession from him.

“O—oh, hi.”

He’s the one that greets you first, and it sounds a lot more agonizing than if you’d been the one to do it. Did Choi Beomgyu say something to this guy? Why does he look just as uncomfortable as you?

“Uh, hey.” You quickly squeeze out a response. “It’s getting stuffy inside, right? Haha, enjoy your alone time. I’ll be doing the same outs—”

“W—wait!” The last thing you expected was for Jimin to say something to you. You preemptively stop walking, and the momentum causes you to jerk a bit, giving him the opportunity to jump off his seat and keep talking. “This…this is a bit long overdue, and this may sound stupid, but I feel like I owe you an apology.” 

An apology? Your brows furrow. You regain your balance, resting a hand on the backrest of the sofa beside you. “For what?”

He struggles a bit. “Um…do you remember when I asked you a favor last year? To convince Beomgyu to help me rank up in League?” You can feel the heat of embarrassment flushing your cheeks again. God dammit, why can’t he be like Jiwoong who just smiled and walked past you like nothing happened? “You stormed off after that, and I couldn’t help but feel really guilty that I did something wrong, but I couldn’t figure out why you’d be angry no matter how much I thought about it.”

Somehow, your hands find themselves covering your face, head down. “Ah,” you exhale a disgruntled breath, then force an inhale. You bring your head up. You look at the boy who’s looking guilty when he shouldn’t be. “You did nothing wrong, Jimin. I was just worked up that day and sort of lost my cool. I should be the one who’s sorry.” This is so ridiculous. At least with this, you think you can finally be over it. “Gosh. I can’t believe you’ve been stressing about that.”

Jimin brings his arms to a cross and rubs his palms against his sleeves, still looking down and sorry. “I felt really bad, okay? I really thought I said something wrong, especially to my friend’s girlfriend.”

You feel a twitch in your temple. Here’s another misunderstanding to clear. “I don’t think I would’ve been able to help you anyway. I wasn’t his girlfriend back then.”

This causes him to jolt his eyes up to look at you. “Huh? Really?” His widened eyes blink rapidly. “Back then? Then does that mean you’re—”

An interruption in the form of your name being called out arrives.

You turn your head back— back into the direction of the hall that led into the karaoke lounge. “Beomgyu,” you acknowledge, padding up to him upon his arrival. You figure he managed to listen in on the last part of that conversation, considering the fact he welcomes your arrival with a snug arm around you. Like Minjeong says, Choi Beomgyu acts like a puppy with attachment issues, but he hasn’t been committing any heinous acts of public affection the entire reunion event. You haven’t even said anything. He knows you a little too well. “What’s up? Got sick of all your friends’ love and attention already?”

“That’s one reason,” he grunts “But the guys wanted to gather everyone around for something. What were you two doing out here?”

The question seems to be pointed at Jimin, and the man in question struggles to come up with a response. You lightly elbow Choi Beomgyu. “We were just clearing up some misunderstandings,” you say, which Jimin echoes, and then you give Beomgyu a whispered reminder. “You know. The fake secret admirer incident last year. Looking back, that was also half your fault for planting ideas in my head.”

“Oh, yeah. That incident,” Beomgyu snorts upon recollection. “Damn. You never fail at being embarrassing.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You elbow him again. Less lightly this time. Telling him about the whole confession misunderstanding on your part will forever be one of the greatest regrets of your life. “Jimin, We’ll head in first.”

“Sure thing. Tell the others I’ll be there in a sec.”

With that, you shuffle back into the hallway, and upon getting closer to the lounge, Beomgyu slowly paces away a considerable distance between the both of you. The last thing he lets go of is his gentle hold on your wrist as he led you down the hallway. He used that same hand to open up the door, announcing your re-arrival— which elicits a different reaction from the first time you two arrived. “Oooh, here they are. The lovebirds are finally here.”

Even though they aren’t misunderstanding your relationship this time around, it still is really fucking annoying.

“C’mon, sit down, sit down! We’ve already started playing truth or dare while you guys were out. Where’s Jimin?”

It doesn’t feel right to deny it. “He’s still out.” But it doesn’t feel right to just let them keep goading you either. “Said he’ll join us later. If you ask any weird questions, I’m out.” 

“Lighten up! We’re all just curious to find out what everyone’s been up to this past year.” The two long tables in the venue have been pressed together to form one big square where everyone is sitting around. With Beomgyu following behind you and seated to your left, you take the spot Chaeryeong has been saving, quickly filling you in with the revelations you’d missed, but it’s hard to keep up with her once the group got the ball rolling again by spinning an empty beer bottle in the middle of the square time after time, round after round. 

You all found out Seungmin was the one who put fake cockroaches in the faculty office. Jimin joined the table after that round. Your poor friend Chaeryeong had to chug down a terrible excuse of a drink for refusing to answer a question. She’s now mumbling incoherencies into your shoulder as you watch the botte spin for the nth time— spinning, spinning, spinning, slowly losing speed until it ultimately stops and points at you.

“Alright, alright! Truth or dare?”

Well, shit.

“Ah. Truth, I guess,” you grant. You’ve already had enough embarrassing moments involving your high school cohort. You need not add another one, and considering how everyone’s interest about you revolves around Choi Beomgyu and Choi Beomgyu only, you figured that the poor idiot next to you should be more scared of the question than you in case his friends want to ask about his deepest, darkest secrets.

“Oh, there’s something I’d like to know!”

The person who decides that you should be the one on the chopping block is Kim Bora, who’s grinning at you from across the table, right in between Haena and Seohyun. Ah. You have a feeling where this is going. You suck in a deep breath and muster up all the patience in the world.

“How did you and Beomgyu manage to stay strong after all these years?”

Unfortunately, that amount of patience is very thin. Very thin indeed. Even more thinned out with the number of voices doubling, tripling it down.

“Oooh, I wanna hear too!”

“Yeah, what’s your secret, man? All my relationships end after three months, I feel like there’s something I’m doing wrong.”

“Tell us your secret!”

“What are you guys—”

That last voice came from Beomgyu, who you promptly stopped with the squeeze of his hand. Don’t say anything, don’t stop them, you say to him with narrowed eyes. He gives you a conflicted look, but he relents anyway, settling back down, but you can tell he’s worked up. Well, you just want to know how far they’re gonna take this. You want to know how much you can bite your tongue. You know you’ve always been prone to outbursts and impulse, but after all the shit you’ve been through these past two semesters, mindless, nose-digging gossip like this is nothing.

More than that, you want to know what this girl Haena is planning with how much she’s been giggling for the past minute and a half.  

“What are you saying, Bora? You’re so silly! Don’t you remember what we talked about with her before? They’ve never dated!”

And there it is.

“Huh?”

Haena’s statement drops a blanket of confused silence over the table. “What are you talking about?” one of your old classmates asks, and you want to echo the same sentiments because what exactly is she trying to achieve with this?

“C’mon,” Haena waves the silence off, still grinning, still sneaking glances at you. “You didn’t know? You guys were all being judgmental for assuming a boy and girl are dating just because they’re really close friends. Well, it’s not like they ever denied it. Oh, well but the truth is they were never dating. You two were never dating, right? Right?”

Ah. This is kind of pissing you off.

“Hey, that’s enough—”

Is this because you wouldn’t set her up with Beomgyu? Jesus, isn’t she over that already? Is she trying to frame you as some attention-seeker who thrived off the misunderstanding that you and your childhood friend have something more going on? Well, too bad. You’ve already been branded as a cheater and a whore. This is so juvenile that it’s starting to prick at the patience you’ve worked so hard to build up.

“Damn, seriously? So I stopped myself from confessing over nothing? If you two weren’t dating, how come neither of you said a thing?”

“That’s what I’m saying! Kinda crazy that they just let everyone misunderstand!” 

“Jesus, why are we even talking about this?” Seungmin attempts to dissuade the conversation, but the misfortune that comes after is Jimin accidentally adding fuel to the fire by letting slip the information you’d shared to him just moments ago.

“Right? Why does it even matter if they were dating or not back then? What’s important is that they’re both happily dating now!”

Another blanket of silence mops the table.

At this point, you just wanna go home.

“Ha!” A noise of disbelief rips out of Haena’s throat as sneers at you from across. “I can’t believe this! You kept saying and acting like you weren’t interested in him when you’d end up taking the opportunity, anyway! Wow, you acted so high and mighty back then, bragging that you didn’t have any feelings for him as if it made you better than the rest of us. If it’d end up like this, you should’ve just hooked up and gone after him ages ag—”

“For fuck’s sake, I’ve heard enough.”

The table rattles. Your eyes widen, snapping up to your left to see Choi Beomgyu who had stood up, who— for the first time in the years you’ve known him— looks mad. Angrier than when you two fought last year. Angrier than you think you’d ever been, even with your horrid short-temper.

His knuckles are tight. He’s seething. You’re too caught off guard to react in time and stop the damage he intends on making.

“Seriously. Why the fuck do you keep running your mouth about something that’s completely out of your business?”

It’s not only you. It seems that everyone is surprised to find the always easygoing, always friendly and outgoing Choi Beomgyu suddenly acting like this— acting like this on your behalf. “So what if we started dating? What’s it to you? What’s it to any of you?” You’re stunned. He draws his fingers to his hair. He shakes it off with an incensed breath. “Jesus christ. If you guys aren’t interested in talking about anything else other than our relationship, then I guess the both of us should just leave so that you can gossip more, yeah? Enjoy the rest of the damned night, assholes.”

When his head drops and his eyes make contact with yours, his gaze immediately softens. Let’s go, he mouths with a smile. You feel a lump in your throat. Beomgyu whisks you away before you can even acknowledge it.

“Whoa, that was scary.”

“Was he always like this?”

“You were the ones who crossed the line. What were you guys thinking?”

At some point, Beomgyu has completely dragged you out of the karaoke lounge, out of the hall, out of the hotel lobby, and into the dimly lit parking lot with nothing but a handful of streetlights illuminating the chalky pavement. You hadn’t even realized you’d been running until he stopped underneath the dancing particles of the ilt-up post, brightening up the empty parking space right next to his car. You hadn’t even realized you’d been catching your breath until he points it out for you

“Seriously, what the hell was wrong with people? Why can’t everyone just mind their own business and leave us—” The tempo of his rant fizzles out immediately. Beomgyu bites down a frown and pulls you in, brushing through the unkempt strands of your hair from the wind. “Sorry, was I running too fast? I just wanted to get you out of there as quickly as I can.”

Choi Beomgyu had confronted your old inhibitions on your behalf. He’d done the same thing with Jang Seung last semester. He’d done the same with his former friends that were talking shit about you and even got into a fight because of it. And it seems like the same thing is going to happen now.

It’s always him who does things for you. He was the one who took the first step in your reconciliation last year. He was the one who’d always put the entirety of his soft, tender feelings into the palm of his hands and handed them off to you without even expecting anything in return. 

Maybe it’s about time for you to do the same.

Maybe it’s about time for you to confront the one thing you’ve been confining in the back of your mind for god knows how long.

“Beomgyu.”

It’s always been there— since you were, what? Fourteen? Sixteen? Since he’d made you watch that stupid scary movie in middle school and your heart jumped out of your ribcage for the first time and all you could do was hold onto him for your dear life while you screamed bloody murder? You don’t know when these kind of thoughts started entering your head, but you never dwelled on them knowing and fearing that even considering them, acknowledging them in any way, shape, or form would open up a pandora’s box of emotions you’d have to sift through and organize alongside the fact that he’s just your friend, your friend for as long as you can remember, and you weren’t ready for it yet— even after what happened under the table on new year.

For your entire life, Choi Beomgyu has been a friend. A neighbor. An annoyance. Someone you care about. Someone you can’t live without.

And experiencing firsthand a life without his annoying presence always hovering around you cemented the fact that you really can’t risk losing him from your life again. And the likelihood of things going wrong, things getting tangled to the point where you’d have to cut each other off is less when he’s just your friend— just a neighbor, just an annoyance— than when he’s someone more than that.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want me to intervene.”

Which is why you feared that if you’d ever admit to yourself that you had feelings for him, that if you’d stopped brushing those feelings away, that risk of losing him would become more than you could handle.

“I just got too angry hearing them talk all that crap.”

But now—

“Ugh. Even thinking about it is making me mad. C’mon, let’s just go.”

You don’t have to keep lying to yourseff anymore. Because who gives a shit about what other people say? Because who gives a shit about risks and fears that are nothing but debris floating around your head?

“Let’s just go home, okay? Let’s head to car, and then—” He stops himself. He lets go of your hand to cup your cheeks, drying up the tears with the warmth of his fingertips. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Nothing is wrong. Because the only thing you give a shit about right now is the fact that the opportunity to love and be loved by Choi Beomgyu only comes once in a lifetime—

“C’mon. You should just forget what Haena and the rest of them said. They’re all nonsense.”

—and spending the entirety of it in denial would just be ridiculous.

“Oh, and now you’re laughing. You’re laughing and crying. Wow, you must’ve gone insane.

Stupid.

“What should I go? Go back? Should I teach them a lesson?”

Pointless.

“Stay here. I’ll go back and—”

Downright impossible.

“Hey, fuckface.”

You tug on his sleeve to stop him from leaving. 

“I’m so fucking in love with you.”

And it feels like air is entering your lungs for the first like, as though twenty years worth of heavy leaden weight has been lifted off your chest. But unlike you, Beomgyo looks like he’s having troube breathing. “Oh,” is all he says, wide-eyed and surprised. Almost as if he’d never been expecting it. Like it had never even crossed his mind that you’d ever say it to him. You, of all people. “W—well—”

“Choi Beomgyu.” You interrupt him befre he could say anything, smacking your palms on both sides of cheeks before the adrenailne leaves your system. Before you could even think twice about anything at all. “I’m sorry I’ve never said it outright before even after we started dating. But you should know that you mean the world to me, you idiot. I’m so in love with you, it makes me stupid. I’m nothing without you.”

This time, it’s him who starts crying.

You let him sink into your arms and bury his face into your shoulder. He drapes himself over while keeping steady around your waist. You hear him sniffle a little. Gross. “Seriously, you’re such a crybaby.”

Beomgyu mumbles an annoyed grunt against your shirt. “And you’re such a meanie for ruining the moment.” He’s glaring at you when he pulls himself up, eyes narrowed and stained red with tears. “Say it again, dipshit.”

“Say what again?”

He frowns. “You know what!”

God. What could you have done in your past life to have been tied together with think punk since the beginning of this one? You roll your eyes and kiss his face. “I’m in love with you, loser. You’re so annoying.”

He grins and lands another one on your lips. “I’m nothing without you, too.”

The streetlight continues to sprinkle its light over the both of you. Choi Beomgyu continues to stay in your life, and he’d keep staying there for as long as this life would let him.

OKAY. MAYBE YOU DO LIKE CHOI BEOMGYU. As annoying as he is for wasting your time with how often he calls you up at four in the morning for an impulsive fast food run because he wants some company, for injuring your pride by forcing you to play another one of the games the coding club developed and obliterating your ass in the process, you still like him— beyond understanding or comprehension. 

Even when he’s being such a clingy idiot so early in the morning, in the first day of the semester, after he’d just finished being announcing to the entire campus via the anonymous student board gone un-anonymous that you hadn’t been cheating on him since at that time you weren’t even dating, but you are now, and that you’re in love, and that Jang Seung is just a whiney little bitch who made up rumors because he couldn’t stand being rejected.

“You’re crazy! Why the hell would you do that?!”

Choi Beomgyu rubs his nose while you scold his ears off. When you finish, he simply says. “He made another post about you last night. I think it’s because he saw us on a date the other day. What a loser. Hey, look. That’s him over there.”

Indeed, you do spot Jang Seung while you trace down the hallway, on the way to Horangnabi to spend your vacant period in between your next set of classes.

“Ugh. Just what I needed to make my morning worse.”

He’s with a group, and the group contains Eunseok, the guy you went on a blind date with once and got roped into your whole cheating rumor. He looks greatly uncomfortable. Maybe it’s because Jang Seung is talking shit about you and how the both of them got played by you (you did not) when you’ve been going out with Beomgyu this entire time (you were not). Eunseok knows the truth. You talked it out with him before the semester started and he figured you weren’t that kind of person anyway. 

Poor guy wants to leave already.

But Jang Seung seems determined to paint you as a crazy, cheating, boy-crazy whore. Did ignoring his texts for one night injure his ego that much? And here you thought you were prideful. You know that things have died down and at this point people have either forgotten about the whole thing or just don’t care anymore, but the small crowd Seung managed to collect still seemed to be thriving in all the overinflated gossip.

“I mean, if she wasn’t all that into me, she could’ve said so, you know? Still, can you believe she picked that guy over me or you? And the poor cuck even has the guts to publicly announce their relationship like some idiot after she’d been hooking up with his friends.”

“Damn. How are they still together?”

“Quit spreading lies, dude. ”

“Hey, how can you just trust everything she tells you?”

“I still can’t believe that those two are still together, much less even started dating in the first place.”

Normally, you’d just ignore this. But you’ve gotten a bit sick and tired of biting your tongue and behaving as of late.

You march up to them. Eunseok spurs out a greeting. You give all of them a smile— mostly directed at Jang Seung, who’s been relishing the fact that you never gave him the light of day since the stunt he pulled. Until today, at least.

“Hi,” you start. The guy flinches at your delivery. “As much as it surprises you, yes I’m dating Choi Beomgyu. Yes, we’re fucking together, and I never cheated on him with a some half-baked, second-string loser like this bastard who resorts to high school tactics of spreading gossip because his fragile ego couldn’t handle being left on delivered for one night because I had a hospital emergency. Unfortunately, someone like that isn’t my type at all.”

Jang Seung’s face flushes scarlet. His jaw clenches and he barks out, “Hey, what the fuck—” until Eunseok fixes him on the spot by the shoulder. 

“But just to clarify things. No, I have not been cheating on him and you’d think that if I had, he would say so, wouldn’t he? How the fuck could I have cheated on him last year when he only started dating on January first?” 

Okay. You’re getting a little heated. Jang Seung and his group are now staring at you like you’re a crazy person. Beyond them, other people in the hallway have started to pay attention to the ruckus you’re causing.

Now, when a fuse is lit, it’s not easy to kill it.

So you continue talking. For better or for worse.

“Yes. Yes, I’m now dating Choi Beomgyu— are you all satisfied? Are you happy now? You’ve all been up in my fucking business since the first fucking semester asking if I knew him, if he and I were dating, so here’s your god damned answer! Do you want me to tell you how it happened, too? Give you a play by play of how I met him, knew, him and fell for him because you’re all so fucking curious? Should I do that? In fact, why don’t I keep you guys posted! I should just text every single god damned person who knows not how to mind their business to update you whenever, each and every single time we fucking—”

“Whoa, easy there.”

You’re yanked back by Choi Beomgyu, who has one arm hooked in front of your collar shoulders and safely pressing you close to his torso. His free hand is covering the muffled noises coming out of your mouth as you struggle out of his grip.

Beomgyu simply lets you struggle in vain. He looks ahead, smiling at Jang Seung and the rest of the people in the group. “As much as I wanted to continue listening to her, I don’t really want any more people anonymously talking shit about my girlfriend in the forum just for living her own life and minding her own business.” You’re still squirming in his grip. This fucking bastard. “Anyway, we’re off. Eunseok, see you around.”

It’s only when you two have managed to leave the building that Beomgyu decides it’s time to release you. “Hey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing, you jerk?” you yell, yanking him down by the backpack strap.

“What do you think? Saving your ass from any more rumors, stupid,” he answers while shaking you off. “We should really work on your temper.”

It’s a pleasant walk to Horangnabi. You haven’t been here again in ages.

“I have been working on it! Today was an exemption, so go fuck yourself off.”

“This is exactly what I mean,” he sighs and shakes his head, opening the cafe door for you to enter first, and he follows immediately after. “Potty mouth and a nasty personality. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Your mother must have had a hard time raising you.”

“Quit bringing up my mother every single time you want to win an argument.”

You two find some empty seats right by the window in the right wing of the store. You sit down and set your things on the empty seats. “I can’t just give up on my cheat code, you know,” Beomgyu hums, smiling insufferably as slides the menu down from the table surface. “So, do I win? What’s my prize?”

“Hey, no PDA within store premises! I’ll blacklist you two!”

The both of you turn your heads to see Heeseung, who’s holding a notepad and wearing the employee apron as a uniform. He started working part-time at Horangnabi sometime last month. Extra pocket money, he says. You know it’s because he started seeing someone from the arts department and needed the date funds. Usually, he’d be happy to see you, but something’s gotten in his panties in a twist today. You snicker, about to egg him on, but to your surprise, someone else answers your curiosities.

“He’s just salty because he got dumped over the break.”

Your eyes brighten. You beam out a smile. “Julie!” 

She arrives with a pat on a grumbling Heeseung’s back as she mirrors your expression. “Hi, pretty girl. How was your break?” She moves on from Heeseung to coddle you with attention, hugging you from behind your chair. Have you considered working for us again? I started missing you more ever since this guy started working with us again.”

“Must be bad at the job,” Beomgyu snorts. Heeseung’s protests are left unheard. “Hey, when are you gonna take our order?”

“Ugh. I set you two up together and this is how you repay me?”

Heeseung takes your orders— an americano for him, a matcha latte for you, and a butterscotch croissant for you two to share. While waiting, Beomgyu takes out some of his notebooks from his bags and starts highlighting the pages based on the syllabus his professor handed them earlier. Wow, he’s become diligent, whereas you’re busying yourself with your phone in the midst of a conversation with Chaeryeong. She was so sorry for passing out in the middle of the reunion incident a few ago, and it was Seungmin who filled her in on what happened. She says gonna treat you to dinner this weekend to make up for it. You smile and text her that you look forward to it.

“Iced americano, matcha latte and butterscotch croissant.”

Hanbin is the one who delivers your orders. You thank him with a smile and he leaves with a pat on your head, telling you to come visit the clubroom later. 

“Stop smiling at him like that.”

You turn your attention back to the person sitting in front of you— Choi Beomgyu, with his arms crossed over the books scattered on his table, coupled with a pout and furrowed brows. “Ew, are you jealous?” you snark, picking up your latte from the table and taking a sip. “Wipe that look off your face. It doesn’t suit you. And Hanbin is way too nice and normal to be my type. Unfortunately, god made me like guys who are the slightest bit insane.”

“I keep your life interesting,” he hums out with a proud grin, satisfied with your answer. You set your drink back down, a thought entering your head. It’s quiet in Horangnabi. You two are the only customers at the moment, and soft music siphons through the speakers.

Ever since that day in the beginning of the year, not much has changed between you and him. He’s still calling you names. He’s still annoyingly hooking your feet underneath the table with his so that you’d have a hard time getting up.

It makes you wonder when exactly did he start seeing you differently.

“Beomgyu,” you start. He perks up, a curious expression on his face. “What if I tell you I’ve sort of already had the idea that you’ve had feelings for me since, I don’t know— when we made up after our fight last year?”

He blinks at you, curious expression replaced by something unreadable. You start to grow a little nervous. Then he drops the bomb.

“What if I tell you these feelings have been around since middle school?”

Well, damn.

“That...that would make a lot of sense.”

He only laughs in response, reorganizing his books and setting them aside. “But if you’ve known since then, then wooow— I can’t believe you’ve been leading me on for that long.” He’s shaking his head and clicking his tongue. You groan and cover your face guiltily. He laughs once more. “I’m kidding. It’s not like I didn’t put any effort into hiding it. I know how uncomfortable you got because of all the people gossiping about our relationship. I’d just make things even harder for you if I suddenly confessed.”

With the table now cleared, he slides down the untouched pastry to your side of the table.

“So, I just decided to try and hide it and wait for the right time. If that time ever would ever come, that is,” he continues. “But since you’ve known, I guess I wasn’t exactly doing a good job in hiding how I feel.” 

Your eyes linger at the crescent roll. You take the fork and knife and reply, “Yeah, you’re not very slick.”

“Hey, it was very hard for me, you know!” he huffs, pouting. You slice into the croissant and stab the smaller piece with the fork. “I felt like dying whenever you mentioned that bastard Seung or Song, or whatever. And you even asked me to set me up with my friends. You’re so mean—”

You reach an arm over the table. Beomgyu stares at your offering— a little surprised, a little flustered, but he clears his throat and leans forward, taking a bite from the pastry before wiping his mouth with a napkin, eyes down, face flushed.

He can be cute sometimes. You set the fork back down on the plate. “Thanks for waiting for me.”

“T—tsk. I’m just cool like that, you know?” Still insufferable. You roll your eyes and grab a piece of the pastry yourself, but while the mood is still high, Beomgyu takes the opportunity to speak his own mind too, bringing up one more thing that had been lingering in the back of both of your minds. “That night— you know, on new year’s when you said that we should just start dating— I knew you just said it in the heat of the moment.” The pastry gets stuck in your throat. “And I knew at that moment that you’d end up taking it back as a joke and laugh it all off. I didn’t really want to hear that. So I just...decided to speak before you could take it back.”

Ah. Your face is getting hot. You swipe your drink from the table to swallow your emotions down. But Choi Beomgyu manages to snatch your hand before you could do that.

“And you didn’t take it back.”

Your flustered gaze flashes up at him. His eyes remain on you.

“So you just have no choice but to deal with all of this.”

He presses a kiss onto the back of your palm. You yelp and snatch your hand back, cheeks burning and heart racing. He’s grinning like a madman.

“Stop it! We’re in public. God, I hate you, you’re such a dweeb—”

You say you hate him, but he knows you don’t mean it. You’ve been saying all these years that you don’t like him, that he’s just an annoyance, destined to bother you until the end of time— but he’s come to know that none of that is true.

“No one’s here anyway! Heeseung doesn’t count as a person!”

You don’t have to keep pretending that you don’t like Choi Beomgyu. Because in fact, you kind of, really, do.

AFTERWORD. hello….whoo whee this was quite a ride wasn’t it HAHAHAHHAHA. 49k words of choi beomgyu being the only man ever 😞😞😞 anyhow, i hope you all enjoyed what i believe is my best piece yet!!! writing this was both extremely easy and difficult because hannie-dul-set enjoyers know that my brand is usually silly stupid fics, but the emotional weight of this one did make it a bit difficult for me to write sometimes since i’m a mood writer, even though none of the themes are inherently sad? just very very emotional HHAHAHAHA. two of the most challenging parts too in the planning process was how…i’d be able to depict a change in their relationship after the new year’s scene, while also making sure that beomgyu and mc’s dynamic is still…them, you know? it wouldn’t be them if they just became gross and lovey dovey overnight. it wouldn’t be them if they still didn’t call each other names and swore at each other’s faces despite being horrendously in love. but i think i managed to reconcile these two aspects pretty well in the fic.

the other challenging thing i had to tackle might have been a point of frustration for you guys— making sure that mc’s narration and monologue is completely devoid of any acknowledgement about her feelings for beomgyu and vice versa HAHHAHAHAHHA. but it was necessary because she herself didn’t want to acknowledge, even after they started dating, and the entire thing is written in her pov.

speaking of pov….i think a spin-off written in beomgyu’s pov would be nice after all of this. we only got some bits and pieces of how he’d been feeling all throughout and though i believe the limited information i’ve given is enough to give the idea on how beomgyu was faring all throughout, it would also be interesting to delve into his psyche, all the way from mogi to nabi.

anyhow, those are just empty plans for now HAHAHAHAHAH i hope you enjoyed all three parts of nabi— a sequel i never even intended to write in the first place, but ended up being one of my works that’s closest to my heart. please please do send in your thoughts in the comments, asks, dm’s, wherever!

happy new year! love you all!

나비 / NABI. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[colonelarr0w]

 Hiiii, I have a request. Imagine a highschool AU where reader has a massive crush on Sukuna but she thinks he has a thing with Uraume, but he actually likes her. Ok ok, so hear me out. Reader is childhood friends with Yuuji and Sukuna and she notices how Sukuna and Uraume have been hanging out a lot. So she asks Yuuji if Sukuna is going to prom and he says yes, and that he is probably going with Uraume. So reader is sad and doesn't want to go to prom anymore even after already buy her dress. Buttt, the day before prom, Sukuna and Reader end up talking and she mentions how he and Uraume are going together and he is confused.  Then they both confess and end up going together. Pleaseeeeee make this as angsty as possible, I love me some good angst😫

A/N - Ooh, you know I love me some angst. And considering that it's actually prom season right now, this makes this fic that much more personal to me (I don't have a date LMAO).

The Other Woman

Preview - "The fuck was so great about Uruame anyway? Maybe it was her intelligence, maybe it was her athleticism. Or maybe, just maybe, it was her ability to interact with Sukuna without stumbling over every other word."

Warning(s) - mature themes, foul language, mention of violence (Sukuna will be Sukuna)

Word Count - 4.3k

It was April now. 

The season where girls compared prom dresses and guys anxiously put together their extravagant plans to ask the girl of their dreams to prom. It was the season that also revealed who was romantically interested in who — the couples that were thought to have been endgame break up juust before prom season, and if luck was truly a real thing, two people that nobody thought were romantically interested in the other were suddenly sucking face in the hallway.  

And even though you had been saying since the beginning of the school year that you likely were not going to attend prom … 

 … you found yourself standing in a dress shop with Nobara and Maki, both of whom were dressing you in flashy colors and, quite frankly, expensive dresses. 

“You’re kidding! Of course you’re going to prom, we’re not going without you,” Nobara comments, her tone offended as if you had told her that her shirt didn’t match her pants. Maki crosses her arms over her chest, agreeing wholeheartedly with the brunette at her side.  

“Come on Nobara, it’s not like it’s gonna be worth it. You both have dates,” you point out, taking a sip from your water bottle and sending both of your friends knowing looks.  

“And? You can go with Yuuji, you’ve both been conjoined at the hip since grade school,” Maki retaliates with a raise of her eyebrow. Nobara nods in agreement.  

“First of all, I’m not taking my guy best friend to prom. I don’t want people to get the wrong idea,” you begin, holding up your hand and using your fingers as an imaginary list. “And second, I kind of want someone to ask me that is … y’know … romantically interested in me.” 

Nobara claps her hands together as the curtain of your dressing room is yanked to the side, her smile widening impossibly further as she silently commands you to spin. You comply, turning in a circle in the royal blue dress that she had forced you into.  

“I don’t know,” you say for the umpteenth time. Nobara deflates in her seat, turning her head to Maki in the hopes that maybe she would say something to convince you. But the green-haired girl doesn’t say anything, because in a way she understands.  

“Come on (Y/N). Help us out here,” Nobara all but begs you, standing from her chair and walking over to you. She turns you in the direction of the full-body mirror in front of you, her hands affectionately squeezing her shoulders. “What color do you want to wear? Let’s start there.” 

“I don’t even want to go Nobara,” you retaliate, meeting her gaze in the mirror’s reflection. She sighs again, dramatically letting go of you and sulking once she returns to her seat.  

Maki rolls her eyes, finally walking over to you and glancing at you through the mirror. “Here, instead of color, who do you want to go to prom with?” 

You freeze, already feeling your cheeks heat as your eyes flicker to momentarily meet Maki’s in the reflection.  

“D’you think Sukuna is actually going to prom?” you ask Yuuji, stealing a chip from the bag that he holds and grinning to yourself as he silently shifts to ensure that you won’t steal another. He lifts his legs, crossing his ankles over one another as he hums in thought.  

“I think he might’ve mentioned it. But you know him,” Yuuji pauses to eat another chip, “he’s not really one for those kinds of parties, y’know?” 

You nod, but at the same time you can feel your heart sinking. Was it really a secret that you had a crush on the older brother of your childhood best friend? Honestly … no. But everyone but Sukuna knew (obviously), and yet nobody had really tried anything to help push you together.  

Maybe that was because of his reputation, or maybe it was because your friends were trying to “protect” you from someone that you really didn’t need to be shielded from.  

“Actually, now that you mention it,” Yuuji turns to you, crumpling up the now empty chip bag and tossing it into the garbage bin just a few feet in front of the two of you. “I think he mentioned asking Uruame to prom.” 

You fall silent, nodding your head. “Mm … right.” 

“I don’t know,” you answer again, shrugging your shoulders and already moving back towards the dressing room. You rip open the curtain, stepping inside and sighing. You lift your hands, rubbing them over your face as Yuuji’s words replay like a broken record in your head.  

The fuck was so great about Uruame anyway? 

Maybe it was her intelligence, maybe it was her athleticism. Or maybe, just maybe, it was her ability to interact with Sukuna without stumbling over every other word.  

You glance upward at the small mirror in the dressing room, already reaching behind you to unzip the dress. You step out of it, returning it to its hanger before emerging again from the dressing room. Nobara and Maki glance up at you, having expected you to be wearing another dress. 

“I think I’m done for today, if anything, I’ll just wear an old dress,” you say nonchalantly, trying to hide the waver that had started to creep into your tone. Maki nods understandingly, but Nobara rises to her feet and promptly places both hands on her hips.  

“(Y/N),” she says sternly, stomping over to you and grabbing both of your hands into her own. “We are going to find you a perfect fucking dress, you are going to have a perfect fucking time at prom, and we are going to all go together because fuck men.” 

Maki sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger. "Nobara-" she begins, but her words are quickly cut off by a dismissive wave of Nobara's hand.  

"Now come on," Nobara places her palms flat against the backs of your shoulders, pushing you back towards the dressing room and turning to get the attention of the consultant who had been helping the three of you. "We're finding you a dress, and it's gonna be perfect." 

< ... > 

"Here brat, got you those fuckin' chips that you won't shut up about," Sukuna rolls his eyes as he closes the front door. He turns towards the couch, promptly throwing a bag of chips at Yuuji's face. You bite back the chuckle that claws up your throat as Yuuji yells out in surprise, pressing his palms against his face.  

"The hell?! Uncalled for!" Yuuji whips his head around to send a glare to his older brother, the latter of whom only shrugs before turning his attention to you.  

"Here, got you somethin' too," he says gruffly, clearing his throat as he rummages through the white plastic bag that he's slung over his arm. From it he removes a bag of candy that you had mentioned liking, which he hands to you. 

"Oh, thanks Sukuna!" You turn to smile at him as you take it, fingers momentarily brushing against his own. The contact brings a gentle pink hue to your cheeks, though his face remains stoic as ever – completely unreadable. As he usually was.  

Sukuna only grunts in response to your thanks, then turning on his heel and promptly vanishing into his room. You return your attention to the movie that Yuuji had put on, noticing him staring at you out of the corner of your eye. 

"What?" 

"Do you … shit (Y/N) … do you like my brother?"  

You cough, Yuuji's question catching you completely off of your guard. You whip your head to face him, cheeks heating at the knowing smile that your best friend wears. He abandons his chips, already rising to his feet.  

Shit. 

You spring up from your place on the couch, already diving for Yuuji. Your arms lock around his waist, knocking both him and yourself to the ground. "Don't you fucking dare." 

The pink-haired boy merely laughs in response, opening his mouth to yell. You yelp, pressing both of your palms against his lips and pressing down hard. He winces, but his eyes are still crinkled in that bright little shit-eating grin that continues to remind you just how fucked you were.  

You stare down at him, eyes as cold as ice. "Say a word and I'll kill you." 

Yuuji only rolls his eyes, but that shit-eating grin never once fades from his face.  

< ... > 

"See! I told you that we would find the perfect dress!" Nobara says proudly, hands on her hips as she admires you from behind. Her eyes meet yours in the reflection of your bedroom's mirror, lips turned upward in a smile.  

You had to admit, the dress was absolutely gorgeous. It was (Y/F/C) with gentle highlights and trimmings that fit around both your chest and waist. The center of the dress was corseted, accentuating your figure; and the train of the dress was long enough to flow behind you, but not long enough that you would trip over it.  

You turn your body around in the mirror, admiring the lace-up back of the dress. For the first time in a very long time, you felt pretty.  

"Alright, alright, fine. I'll admit … it is very pretty." You bite back a chuckle as Nobara claps her hands together, giddily turning to Maki and waiting for the green-haired girl to verbally approve as well.  

"You do look amazing (Y/N)," Maki nods in agreement, her compliment bringing a gentle smile to your face. Nobara nods her head frantically, turning back to you and grinning again as her eyes rake up and down your figure.  

The three of you pause at the sound of your front door opening and closing, followed then by your mother happily greeting whoever it was that had turned up on your doorstep. Nobara shoots you a confused look, one that you respond to with a confused look of your own.  

"(Y/N)! Yuuji's here!"  

You sigh, lifting your fingers to your nose and pinching at the bridge of your nose. You had completely forgotten that you had agreed to go to the arcade with Yuuji, and now here you were, standing in a prom dress even after you had told him countless times that you simply weren't going.  

Nobara and Maki exchange glances, but neither of them say anything to you or each other.  

"Okay! You can let him upstairs!"  

The sound of foosteps approaching your door already has your blood running cold, but the expression that Yuuji wears when he opens your bedroom door makes it somehow colder.  

"Oh wow (Y/N)! You look great! But I thought you said that you weren't coming to prom?" Yuuji points out, tilting his head curiously at you as he angles himself to close the door behind him. He glances then at both Nobara and Maki, neither girl answering him, leaving it completely up to you.  

You clear your throat, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another as you turn to face Yuuji completely. "Yeah … I know. Nobara kind of convinced me." 

"Well, that's good!" Yuuji smiles sweetly, already moving towards your desk chair and flopping down into it. "Are you going with anyone?" 

You remain silent – and that's when Nobara decides to step in, noticing the uncomfortable expression that you wear at Yuuji's question.  

"She's coming with me and Maki," she answers. You nod, clearing your throat as you turn to Yuuji, half-expecting him to furrow his eyebrows at you. But luckily, he smiles at Nobara's response, nodding his head and deciding not to breach the subject any further.  

< … > 

"There you are, where's the brat?" Sukuna asks as he approaches you, leaning against the locker beside your own. You chuckle lightly at him, tilting your head to glance up at him – oddly enough, he was already staring at you.  

"Yuuji? I think he's just finishing up with the Occult Club," you answer, removing your biology textbook from your locker before pushing the metal door shut. Sukuna hums, crossing his arms and tilting his head away from you.  

He looks like he wants to say something, but is conflicted on whether or not he should actually say it. You study him for a second, opening your mouth to say something.  

"There you both are! I'm ready to go home now," Yuuji says brightly, waving at both you and Sukuna from halfway down the hallway. He extends his hand to you, the both of you performing the handshake that you had perfected sometime during middle school. Sukuna rolls his eyes at the both of you, kicking off of the lockers and already swinging his keys on his index finger.  

"Took you long enough," Sukuna comments with a harsh roll of his eyes, though you don't fail to notice the small smirk that tugs at the corner of Sukuna's mouth. "C'mon, let's get out of here." 

Yuuji nods, linking his arm with your own and lightly tugging you towards the school's exit. He grins at you as you stumble on your feet, letting out a small "Yuuji!" at his antics. Sukuna only shakes his head, following behind the both of you – keeping his distance.  

"So, (Y/N), anyone asked you to prom yet?" Yuuji asks, his voice loud enough for Sukuna to hear behind him. You stand rigid in your best friend's hold, eyes flickering to his own. "Surely a girl like you got asked, right? With a big bouquet of flowers and--" 

"Yuuji, stop," you say harshly, voice venomous as you push yourself out of Yuuji's arms. He glances at you, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. He opens his mouth to say something, but you hold a hand up, effectively cutting him off.  

"I'm not going to prom with anyone because the person I wanted to go with is interested in someone else, okay? Is that what you wanted to fucking hear?" You lift a hand to wipe at your suddenly teary eyes, sighing to yourself and shaking your head.  

"(Y/N), that's not what I--" 

"Forget it. I'm just gonna take the bus home," you murmur to yourself, turning and walking straight past Sukuna, not even turning to apologize when your shoulder knocks against his own. His eyes follow you, narrowed in both confusion and irritation. Even so, he makes no move to follow you … 

… even though he so desperately wants to. 

< … > 

"I-it was so humiliating Nobara! Just … just imagine how disgusted he must be with me right now!" You throw your hands up as you continue pacing, talking through your tears as best that you can. Though it proves to be a struggle, you manage to get your point across and speak for long enough before you dissolve into tears again.  

Nobara's eyes soften, gaze flickering momentarily to Maki, who only wears an expression similar to the former's. She stands, opening her arms to you. They lock around you as you all but fall into them, clawing at her back and pressing your face into her shoulder, crying quietly into the fabric of her shirt.  

"He's not disgusted with you," Nobara begins, but you're quick to cut her off, only crying more. Her hand smooths up and down the length of your spine, her gaze once again flickering to Maki in the hopes that maybe she would say something … anything … to comfort you.  

But just like Nobara, Maki is at a loss for words, sitting quietly on your bed and watching you promptly break down in the expanse of Nobara’s arms.  

“He is! He has to be, c’mon, I totally just — just left him there!” The grip you have over Nobara’s shoulders tighten, holding her impossibly tighter as you try to comfort yourself in her arms. The attempt is futile, and in reality, it only makes you feel worse.  

“I’m sure that he understands.” 

“It’s Sukuna, Maki!” You pry yourself from Nobara’s arms, swallowing the growing lump in your throat and angrily swiping at the tears that cling to your waterline. You sigh, allowing your head to fall into the palms of your hands, nails digging into the sides of your head.  

“Come on (Y/N),” Maki says gently, moving towards you and placing a hand on your shoulder. Her fingers squeeze at you comfortingly, a small smile curling her lips upward as you finally turn your head to make eye contact with her. “It’s a simple misunderstanding, I don’t think that Sukuna is going to automatically hate you because of it.”  

You sigh shakily, allowing her to gently guide you to the edge of your bed. She pushes onto your shoulders, then sitting down beside you while Nobara sits in your desk chair — which she had pulled up to the side of the bed so that she could sit directly in front of you.  

“Prom is tomorrow,” you murmur, sighing again a rubbing a hand down your face. Nobara and Maki exchange solemn looks, but neither of them say anything to one another. “And I just … maybe I shouldn’t go.” 

Nobara immediately shakes her head, nearly stumbling from her seat from the force at which she leans back. Maki instinctively reaches for her, hands ready to brace the brunette if she were to fall.  

“What?! After everything that we did? We got a dress, we went out and bought makeup, and we even rented a limo with everyone else!” Nobara says sharply, though her voice doesn’t hold any of the malice that you had expected it too. You knew what she was trying to do anyway, convince you by slightly guilting you into thinking that by you not being there, prom night would essentially be ruined.  

You sniffle, rubbing a hand against your tear-stained cheeks. Maki reaches out, rubbing a hand against your back. Of course, she wants you to go to prom as well, but unlike Nobara, she wouldn’t sit there and guilt trip you into going. If you didn’t want to go, then it was as simple as that, you didn’t want to go.  

“I-I know that, but Nobara—“ 

“Stop.” Nobara stands then, her hands on either side of your face and squishing your cheeks together. “We’re going to prom together, and that’s that. Got it?” 

You sigh, blinking back the last bits of tears that cling to your lashes. And against your better judgement, even though you so desperately want to stay home all day tomorrow and rot …  

 … you nod against the skin of Nobara’s palms.  

< … > 

"(Y/N)! Guys!" Yuuji waves wildly from the front entrance of the school's gymnasium, lips turned upward in a wide grin as you, Nobara, and Maki approach. Standing beside Yuuji is Sukuna – who looks as though the only thing he craves at that moment is going home and vanishing for the weekend. 

Uruame wasn't with him though … maybe she just hadn't arrived yet. 

Nobara smiles as you all approach Yuuji, accepting his fist-bump. You turn to him as well, extending your hand at the same moment he does, the both of you performing that oh-so-elaborate handshake.  

“You look nice,” Yuuji says to you, smiling. You return his smile, turning on your heel and marveling as your dress’ train lifts from the ground, creating a small circle around you as you turn. Yuuji turns then to Sukuna, whose eyes dart away as if he had been caught looking at something that he shouldn’t have been.  

“Yeah … nice,” Sukuna murmurs underneath his breath. His comment brings a gentle pink hue to your cheeks, and in thanks, you nod your head at him.  

“C’mon, let’s go inside!” Nobara says happily, her lips tuned upward in a smile as she reaches for your hands, tugging you towards the entrance of the gymnasium. You glance fleetingly at Sukuna, whose eyes are still fixed on anything but you — you wonder what color Uruame would wear. 

Would she match him? Or would she wear a different color that complimented the one he wore? 

You shake your head, bringing yourself back to reality as you allow Nobara to tug you towards the doors, her lips still turned upward in a delighted smile as she and Maki already begin nodding their heads in tune with the loud music that blares from inside of the gymnasium.  

“Hey, (Y/N).”  

You turn, eyebrows raised as you notice Sukuna looking at you, his body angled so that he faces you. His fingers twitch slightly, debating on whether or not they should reach out for you.  

“Yeah?” 

“Can I talk to you? Jus’ for a second,” Sukuna responds gruffly, clearing his throat and hoping that the dimly lit sky was enough to hide the pink color that dusted his cheeks.  

Nobara, Maki, and Yuuji all exchange knowing looks, their lips all turning upwards into Cheshire-cat-like smiles. None of them say a single word as they slip through the gymnasium’s open doors, leaving both you and Sukuna at the entrance.   

“Everything okay?” you ask, tilting your head at Sukuna. He swallows, shoulders tensing and hands curling into white-knuckled fists. His nails, which had always been long, are no doubt leaving behind crescent-shaped marks on the skin of his palm — what the hell had him so nervous? 

He hesitates, eyes flickering momentarily to you before they look away again. “Everything’s,” he clears his throat, “everything’s fine.” 

You furrow your eyebrows together, not quite believing him. You lift your arms to cross them over your chest, shifting on your foot before finally noticing a tuft of white hair in the distance. You open your mouth to comment, but something stops you.  

“So … where’s Uruame?” you settle for asking, glancing up at him and teasingly wiggling your eyebrows at him. He turns to you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.  

“The fuck are you talking about?” 

“Uruame. You’re waiting out here for her aren’t you? Don’t tell me you’re gonna make her walk into prom all by herself,” you turn on your heel to chastise him, pointing a finger at his chest. The crease between his eyebrows only deepens as you continue — which you take as a sign to promptly shut up.  

The two of you stand in awkward silence for a moment, both of you turned away from the other in fear of what expression the other wore.  

“Uruame’s not comin’ to prom,” Sukuna murmurs with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “Said she wasn’t the biggest fan of parties, not that I blame ‘er.” 

“Oh.” 

Again, neither of you say anything to the other. You can feel your cheeks burning, and in the hopes that he wouldn’t say anything, you lift your hands to your face, covering it. He tilts his head, sighing with the smallest of smirks plastered onto his face.  

“Lemme guess,” he turns to you, regaining his confidence and bending just enough so that his nose is level with your own. Your eyes widen, the pink color on your cheeks deepening at the sudden closeness. “You thought I was takin’ Uruame to prom, didn’t you?” 

“N-no,” you reply quickly, your voice a high-pitched squeak. Sukuna chuckles, shifting back on his feet and crossing his arms over his chest, staring down his nose at you. “Okay, maybe.” 

The taller man turns, leaning against the wall of the gymnasium and glancing at you through the corner of his eye. You shuffle on your feet, not daring to look up at Sukuna.  

“That why you kept tellin’ Yuuji that you weren’t comin’ to prom?” he asks, grinning as he glances at you. “‘Cause you thought I was goin’ with Uruame?” 

You remain silent — now suddenly embarrassed over your childlike reaction. To be honest, it had been petty for you to potentially throw away the entirety of your prom night over something as trivial as not having a date. But at the same time, your friends had been asked to prom by the people that they were romantically interested in — hell, even Yuuji had managed to successfully ask Megumi to prom. And that was after he had smacked himself in the face in front of his bathroom mirror.  

Sukuna chuckles, leaning his head back and crossing his arms over his chest. His fingers drum against his clothed bicep, a delighted hum rumbling up somewhere in his throat as he relishes in your reactions. He clears his throat, catching your attention. 

“Stupid,” he murmurs, reaching a hand out and laying it over the top of your head. You huff at him, smoothing your hands over your hair, hoping that all of the styling that you had done wasn’t ruined by Sukuna’s comically large palm.  

“And that makes me stupid because?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow at Sukuna. He rolls his eyes, once again leaning down to be at eye-level with you again. This time, however, you challenge his stare with one of your own — pointed and cold, though not nearly as cold as the glare situated in front of you.  

“It makes you stupid because you actually thought I’d take someone other than you to prom.” 

His words make you positively flush from head to toe. You stand as still as stone in front of him, inhaling sharply as he adjusts himself again. He offers his arm to you, nodding in the direction of the opened gymnasium doors.  

“So then why didn’t you ask me sooner?”  

Sukuna rolls his eyes, sighing. “I’m not good at that kind of stuff, but trust me, you’re the only girl that I’d have ever even considered to take to this fuckin’ thing.” 

You chuckle, rolling your eyes as you slip your arm into Sukuna’s. His chest swells at the smile that you flash at him, and in a moment of bravery, he leans down to press his lips to your own.  

Thank God that you had decided to go to prom. 

[shy2-29]

I already really love your writing.

Can I request a NSFW story where reader is Sunghoon's girlfriend and Heeseung's best friend? Hee has a huge crush on her since before Sunghoon started dating her. Sunghoon and her are always quite secretive and quiet but one time, thinking they were alone in the dorm, they got louder. And Heeseung who happened to come back home and heard it, jerks himself off but gets caught by Sunghoon.

omg tysm for the compliment 🙈 lwky half asleep while writing this but I hope it’s still presentable

Unforbidden Love | SeungSung

pairings: sunghoon x reader x heeseung kinda

wc: 1.8k

synopsis: Heeseung and you have been friends friends for a while, and Heeseung has always had a crush on you since. He then introduces you to his friend Sunghoon, which you then end up dating. When it comes to intimate moments, you guys are usually kept to yourself. One day, Heeseung arrives at the dorm early that him and Sunghoon share, not expecting to see you both fucking. He can’t help but feel hurt seeing both his best friend and crush together, but the sight also turns him on. Later on, Sunghoon catches Heeseung jerking off, staring at a picture of y/n.

authors note: this was confusing for me to write but I DID IT ANYWAYS 🙃 not proof read

warning: pet names (princess, baby), love triangle kinda, swearing, threesomes mentioned, masturbating/jerking off, p in v, unprotected sex (never do this), nipple play, degrading, hair pulling, sunghoon!dom, sub!reader, voyeurism, begging, anything I missed pls lmk

18+ mdni.

—

You and Heeseung have known each other for many years, thanks to your mothers' close friendship. You both met each other when you were 11 and he was 12 years old, and you have been good friends ever since.

Even more surprisingly, both of you ended up attending the same school despite the age difference. Now at 22 and 23 years old, Heeseung has decided to introduce you to one of his friends, Sunghoon, who is the same age as you.

When you lay eyes on him, you're taken aback by his appearance; he's incredibly attractive. However, his initial demeanor is quite reserved, which only piques your curiosity and determination to break through his shell.

Heeseung observes your behavior around Sunghoon, noticing the subtle things you do to try to get him to open up to you.”

You constantly ask Sunghoon questions, such as "Do you want to study together after school?" or "What are you planning to do this weekend?" or "Do you want to hang out with Heeseung and I tomorrow?"

Sunghoon can feel your eyes on him, studying his every move, while your questions and insistent offers to spend time together catch him off guard.

He's not used to someone being so insistent and curious about him. He notices your efforts to draw him out of his reserved shell, and he can't deny that he finds your determination and curiosity cute.

As the days go on, Sunghoon finds himself becoming more and more intrigued by you. He starts to observe you more closely, picking up on your small habits and quirks.

It has been several weeks since you started spending more time with Sunghoon, much to the frustration of Heeseung, who had harbored feelings for you since middle school and believed you reciprocated the sentiment.

Feeling left out, Heeseung approaches you at your locker and asks, "What are you up to after school today?"

You respond with a smile, "Oh, me and Sunghoon are going out on a date."

Heeseung's emotions are mixed upon hearing this news. Despite feeling hurt, he realizes he can't blame Sunghoon for asking you out since he never confessed his feelings to you.

Heeseung feels a pang of jealousy and hurt at your response, his heart sinking at the thought of you going on a date with Sunghoon. He tries to hide his emotions, but his expression gives him away.

"Sunghoon asked you out?" he asks, trying to keep his voice neutral.

You nod, a smile on your face as you continue putting your books away into your locker. "Yeah, he did. We're going to grab some coffee and walk around the park," you explain.

Heeseung bites the inside of his cheek, trying to contain his emotions. He had always hoped that you would eventually realize his feelings and return them, but it seemed like that hope had been dashed.

He forces a smile and says, "I see. Well, have fun on your date, I guess."

He walks away, trying to convince himself that he's happy for you and Sunghoon. However, deep down, he can't help but feel a sense of resentment towards his friend, wondering why Sunghoon had to ask you out when he had known you for so long and had feelings for you himself.

Over time, your bond with Sunghoon continues to deepen, with him becoming more outgoing and flirtatious in your presence, albeit with moments of shyness that make him all the more endearing.

However, despite his attempts, Heeseung cannot fully shake off the feeling of jealousy and longing as he witnesses your relationship with Sunghoon blossoming. Deep down, he wishes you were his and his alone.

Heeseung observes you and Sunghoon's interactions from afar, watching as Sunghoon slowly comes out of his shell and becomes more flirtatious and playful with you. It only serves to heighten his own feelings of jealousy and longing.

He finds it difficult to suppress his emotions, watching as your relationship with Sunghoon grows stronger. Despite his attempts to cover up his true feelings, his eyes betray him, reflecting his inner turmoil.

It was late evening, and Heeseung returned to his shared dorm with Sunghoon after hanging out with friends. He anticipated the space to be quiet and empty as his roommate was frequently out late studying.

As he entered the living room, faint sounds reached his ears, emanating from a nearby room. Initially perplexed, he approached the source of the sounds. As he drew closer, the sounds became more distinct and recognizable.

Heeseung's eyes widen as he listens through the thin wall, his heart racing at the familiar sounds and voices. He recognizes them as your voice and Sunghoon's, the tones and rhythm suggesting an intimate moment.

“Fuck,” Heeseung hears Sunghoon's strained voice utter, "Be quiet for me, okay, princess? Heeseung will be back any minute." The sounds of skin slapping wants to make Heeseung puke, knowing his best friend and his crush are fucking turns him on.

His face turns bright red as conflicting emotions tear through him. The sound of Sunghoon calling you "princess" makes something twist painfully in his chest, while the intimate sounds push him perilously close to breaking point.

Heeseung's hand reaches out, his fingers trembling as he presses his ear against the wall, the sounds growing louder and more intense. He can hear your high-pitched moans, Sunghoon's soothing whispers, along with lewd slapping noises.

"You like that, baby?" Sunghoon's whisper reaches Heeseung's ears, "You always feel so good... Heeseung's room is right below ours, you’d like that huh? You like that fact he could walk in on us at any moment don’t you?"

Heeseung swallows hard, his mind reeling at Sunghoon's words. He can hear your breath hitching, your moans growing louder as Sunghoon mentions his name. He can almost imagine the scene unfolding on the other side of the wall.

Inching the door open just a crack, Heeseung steals a glance through the narrow gap. His heart nearly stops as he catches sight of Sunghoon positioned behind you, one hand gripping your waist while the other pulls your hair.

“please-” you moan, arching your back as he hits a certain spot. “Sunghoon, Please!” Tears are running down your cheeks as he thrusts into you faster, bringing his head down to bite down on one of your nipples.

His breath hitches, eyes fixed on the sight in front of him. Watching Sunghoon mark your skin, hearing your desperate pleas, watching your body move against his - it's overwhelming. He unconsciously grabs his cock through his pants, barely able to hold back a whimper.

His heart is racing, watching their bodies move together in perfect rhythm. The sight of Sunghoon biting your nipple, combined with your tear-streaked face and desperate moans, causes a strange mix of desire, jealousy, and pain in his chest.

“m’ close,” you scream, burrying your face in the crook of Sunghoons neck, “s’ close Sunghoon!”

Heeseung watches, torn between wanting to stare and needing to look away. Sunghoon's grunts and your desperate cries push him dangerously close to the edge. His own breathing becomes heavy, and he's unconsciously stroking himself through his pants.

Rushing to his room with trembling hands, he pushes the door closed behind him. The sounds from next door continue to echo through the walls, driving him insane. He quickly unbuckles his belt and pushes down his pants, wrapping his hand around his throbbing cock. At this moment, he really wishes he was fucking you instead. He wants to be the one filling you up, making you feel good.

He starts jerking off furiously, his mind filled with the image of you and Sunghoon. He imagines it's him behind you, gripping your hips tightly, slamming into you over and over.

His hand moves rapidly up and down his length as he tries to drown out the noises next door with his own heavy breathing. He can still hear your muffled cries, Sunghoon's grunts, and the bed creaking.

His trembling fingers brush against his phone as he turns it on, pulling out his favorite picture of you that he took not so long ago, As he continues stroking himself, imagining those soft lips wrapped around his cock instead of Sunghoon's. The conflicting emotions of desire and jealousy threaten to consume him, making his movements rougher, more urgent. "Damn it...” he groans, throwing his head back.

As the noises from next door finally quiet down, Heeseung finds himself panting heavily, his cock still throbbing in his hand. He stares at the picture, a bitter taste in his mouth. "Why..." he murmurs to himself, "Why did I have to fall for someone so irresistible?"

Heeseung hears the door slam, probably indicating that he was probably getting something from the kitchen. He knows he should be careful, but he can’t help himself.

He freezes in his tracks, heart racing like it might explode from his chest. The slam of the door echoes through the house, telling him clearly that Sunghoon has stepped out for a moment. His mind races with conflicting desires as he continues to pace up and down his long hard member, zooming into your face on his phone.

The door creaks open again, interrupting his intense moment. He quickly tries to adjust himself and turn away, but it's too late - Sunghoon's standing there in the doorway, his expression a mix of shock and... recognition of what Heeseung's been doing.

Sunghoon's eyes lock onto the phone in Heeseung's hand, his gaze flicking between the screen and Heeseung's face. He can see everything - the phone zoomed in on a picture of you as he jerks himself off.

His face turns bright red as Sunghoon's gaze lingers for just a moment too long on his still-hard cock. He tries to cover himself with his other hand, but it's clear what he was doing. The tension in the room becomes unbearable. "Sunghoon..."

Sunghoon leans against the doorframe, a knowing smirk spreading across his face as he crosses his arms. "Listening in and jerking off y/n’s pictures? Really Heeseung? You could have just told me you wanted to fuck her, and I wouldn’t care.”

Heeseung's face contorts with anger and embarrassment, his cheeks flushing red as Sunghoon calls him out. He straightens his back, trying to maintain eye contact. "You make it sound like you'd be okay with sharing..."

Sunghoon sits beside Heeseung, a blanket wrapped around his lower half, and explains, "Y/n has actually had feelings for you for quite a while now. But she thought you didn't return her feelings because you never said anything to her. That's why we ended up together. I’m sure she won’t mind if you fuck her right now.”

“Can I?”

“Sorry-?”

“Can I fuck her right now?”

His breath catches in his throat, heart pounding as Sunghoon lets out a chuckle, nodding his head. The casual way Sunghoon speaks about sharing her, even encouraging it, makes him feel both aroused and conflicted. "You're seriously okay with this?”

Heeseung bites his lower lip, his eyes flicking down to the blanket covering Sunghoon's lap, imagining what's underneath. The tension between them is palpable, the air thick with unspoken desires and forbidden thoughts. "What if I want more than just once?”

Sunghoon chuckles, giving Heeseung a pat on the back. "That's a question for another day."

—

requests open but.. wow this is crazy | masterlist

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 8

[chap seven] | [all chapters here] | [chap nine]

Summary | You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

Warnings & Notes | fem reader, slow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

Author's Note | I am NOT in control of myself when I write, this chapter took on a mind of it's own. I didn't plan for it to go this way, but boy do I love the drama that unfolded anyway. I hope you all suffer just as much as I did lmao~~

WC | 4.9k

Chapter Eight

Instead of your usual midmorning trek to fourth period with Eddie, the two of you - and the rest of the student body - were making your way to the gymnasium for another redundant pep assembly come Monday morning.

Even before you became disenchanted with the superficiality of the popular crowd, you detested assemblies. You actually preferred being in class over being crammed into the gym with a bunch of sweaty teenagers all halfheartedly cheering for the next upcoming sports game or student council election. Even when you were considered an It Girl, even when you were dating Duncan, you still found the whole school spirit thing to be total bullshit. You never cared for the false excitement and encouragement; it was a waste of your time.

This particular pep assembly was thrown together to officially announce the homecoming theme for this year. Why that task required a whole hour of time was beyond you. If past years were anything to go by, then the actual announcements would be wrapped up within fifteen minutes and the remaining time would be wasted on cheerleading routines and jazz band performances.

After ditching the student council some three weeks ago, you cared even less about all this shit than you did before - what interest did you have in celebrating the reveal of some stupid theme inspired by pop music or cheesy dance movies? You’d already decided you sure as shit wouldn’t be attending the school dance, so why was it obligatory for the entire school to attend this assembly in the first place? The heavy-handed force upon students to participate in school activities was something you had never understood, even when you yourself were a part of those groups that lived and breathed school spirit.

As you entered the gymnasium, you stole a glance at Eddie, who appeared just as disinterested as you as his eyes darted around to take in the awaiting student council and their eager smiles. His arm was resting lazily over your shoulder, which you were finally becoming accustomed to, to the point that you would nearly forget it was there sometimes. Hell, you were almost beginning to enjoy having Eddie’s arm there, not that you’d tell him that or even spend a minute wondering why that was.

“I still think we have time to run out of here before anyone notices.” You suggest, drawing a fake look of reprimand from Eddie; he grinned at both your blatant detachment and at your eagerness to skip school for the second time within a week.

“And miss out on everyone acting so impressed by whatever dumb idea they have now? Not a chance.” He teased while guiding you towards the far end of the bleachers. As a pouty scowl crossed your face, Eddie helped you up the steps to take seats just a few rows from the front.

While you impatiently waited for this damn assembly to finally start, Eddie’s friends slowly filtered into the gymnasium as well, each approaching you two with the same apprehension they’d had when they first met you. These guys were still clearly intimidated by you, and you still hadn’t taken the time to open up to them. As Jeff awkwardly shuffled onto the bench in front of you, your knees brushed against his back thanks to just how cramped the bleachers already were; you pulled back from the contact, twisting your body as best you could so that your knees could rest against the side of Eddie’s thigh instead. You didn’t catch the way he smirked to himself about it, content to see that you were shying away from contact with him less and less than you had before.

As the last of the stragglers entered, a trio of freshmen walked towards your group, clearly going for the last few seats in front of you; just as you were nearly prepared to tell them to buzz off and sit elsewhere, Eddie cherrily greeted them with clear recognition. You looked between the boys’ faces with critical puzzlement before turning to Eddie expectantly.

“Don’t tell me you’re friends with freshmen.” You said as if it was a dirty word. Upon seeing the way your brow curved with judgment, Eddie gave you a look of warning, as if silently asking you to please not scare these kids; when you glanced at their faces again, you figured it was too late for that.

The boys awkwardly squeezed into the bleachers, looking back over their shoulders so they could converse with the rest of the losers club that you were now a pseudo-member of. One of the boys accidentally met your watchful gaze, causing him to trip over his words as he quickly wrenched his eyes away. You couldn’t help the slight upturn of your lips - you knew you were always intimidating, but you still found amusement in how people reacted to you.

Your eyes narrowed in realization as you continued to stare at the boy, who clearly was trying to engage in conversation as if he couldn’t tell you were watching him, “You’re Nancy’s brother, aren’t you?”

The whole group looked at you, the freshman in particular seeming wary to speak to you considering your straightforward and cold aura, “You know Nancy?”

You tilted your head at the way he asked the question, which seemed to make him a little more nervous, so you taunted, “Why do you sound so surprised?”

As the Wheeler kid looked as if he were searching for the right response, Eddie gave you a little nudge, to which you gave him a faux look of innocence. The two of you stared at each other for a moment longer before Eddie returned his attention to the younger boys he was clearly attempting to befriend.

“Don’t let her scare you,” he started in a lighthearted tone, similar to the one he’d used with Gareth the week prior. He leaned down towards the group conspiratorially with a funny grin, feigning a dramatic whisper, “fear only makes her stronger.”

The group laughed a little, Eddie seeming to put them at ease; you jabbed your elbow into his ribcage as he straightened back up, sharing an amused look with you. At the same time, the cheerleaders started on some generic, peppy routine out on the basketball court, drawing the crowd’s attention as they shook their pom-poms and called out school chants. As you assessed the cheerleading squad with dispassion, you unconsciously relaxed into Eddie’s side just a little; over your shoulder, Eddie grinned to himself.

Once the cheerleaders wrapped up their set and students began to clap eagerly, the class president, Duncan - the vice president - and a couple more members of the council took to the court. You couldn’t help but sneer as you watched Duncan smile widely, clapping the class president on the shoulder as the crowd began to quiet down. The president - a good friend of Duncan’s named Trent - made a show of hushing everyone, as if whatever he had to say was of the most dire significance.

As you watched them, you found yourself wondering how you had the patience to put up with all of this in the past. Did you ever actually enjoy the false comradery, the sense of importance, the trivial joys of a school dance? Or were you just blindly going along with all of it in order to continue fitting in, to continue maintaining those flimsy friendships?

“Good morning Hawkins High!” Trent started into the microphone in his hand, rousing the crowd for another few moments as Duncan spoke into the second mic.

“We can’t thank you enough for your excitement so far!” You rolled your eyes with pursed lips, sharing a judgmental look with Eddie that caused you both to smile, “Now, I know everyone’s been eagerly awaiting this year’s homecoming, but we’ve got some more exciting news to go over before we announce the theme.”

Eddie tipped his head so that he could talk in your ear, ensuring that you could hear him clearly over Trent and Duncan’s speech, “This was the guy you dated for half a year?’

His taunting led to another jab of your elbow, causing him to cough out in surprise while pulling back to give you an exaggerated wounded look. He leaned back in to continue.

“He’s so… vapid.”

You mirrored Eddie, turning your own head so you could speak in his ear, “Honestly, I think I tuned out at least 80% of his bullshit.”

You could feel his small laugh against your ear, “That’s generous of you.”

“My patience hadn’t entirely run out at that point.” You responded while trying to eye Eddie in your periphery, feeling his hair tickle your cheek, “I guess I was good at pretending.”

“You still are, princess.” Eddie pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, as if to emphasize his point. You were still pretending, after all, just in a different way than before. In the midst of this conversation, how could you have momentarily forgotten that this whole thing with Eddie was a sham?

Righting yourself quickly, you smirked, hoping that Eddie hadn’t detected that singular moment of hesitation and confusion that you suppressed, “Well, you’re much more fun to pretend with.”

You turned your attention to the student council for a brief second as Trent was finally rambling on about the homecoming theme for the year - Footloose, of all things. You could still feel Eddie’s eyes trained on you, and in that moment you weren’t exactly fond of him staring; it caused you to squirm a little in your seat as you feigned total ignorance of his watchful gaze studying you.

“So I am fun?” Eddie teased, drawing your attention back to him, “Careful there, princess, you’re starting to reveal that you aren’t so bad under that icy exterior.”

Despite the roll of your eyes, you grinned at Eddie’s remark, playfully nudging him.

Out on the basketball court, Duncan took over from Trent, and you caught him saying it was time to announce the nominations for homecoming king and queen; the only reason you even spared him another glance was because he listed himself and Amelia, of all people, as the first couple on the docket. Since when were they a couple? That felt like an intentional jab at you, but on the other hand, you figured they didn’t care enough to insult you in this way. Right?

Returning your attention to Eddie, you raised a playful brow, ignoring Duncan’s voice as he droned on, “Don’t start telling people I’m nice, Munson, you’ll ruin my reputation.”

He dipped his head with a devilish, scheming look, “Isn’t that my job? To ruin your reputation?”

As you opened your mouth to give him some smart reply, you suddenly heard yours and Eddie’s names leaving Duncan’s mouth, a confused hush falling over the crowd as only a scatter of people halfheartedly clapped. Your stomach dropped as your eyes widened in realization, Eddie’s expression a mirror of yours. You both slowly looked towards Duncan, meeting his eyes from across the gym; he stared back with a histrionic, false smile, obviously playing innocent for the crowd. But you knew him well enough to recognize the mean, challenging glint in his eyes.

Your eyes slowly scanned the cluster of students on the gym floor - Amelia was now standing with Duncan (and giving you a blatantly supercilious look), Jason Carver stood with his long-time girlfriend Chrissy Cunningham, and star student Todd Stephens was arm-in-arm with Veronica Schneider. You could feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest as realization set in, prompting a look of frustration and dread to befall your face.

Duncan brought the microphone back up to his lips, putting on an all too innocent voice as he held your eyes, “Well, are you two lovebirds going to join us? Come on, don’t leave everyone hanging.”

Duncan put you and Eddie on the ballot for homecoming king and queen.

Anxiety twisted at your gut as you grew hot with anger, your harsh eyes unblinking as you stared Duncan down; and he just looked back with that stupid grin of his. You were never one to feel self-conscious, to feel embarrassed, but in that moment, you recognized just how quickly you’d fallen from grace. Humiliation was not a feeling you’d known before, but in this moment you suddenly felt as if you were drowning in.

And you knew that’s exactly what Duncan wanted.

God, you wanted to give him a piece of your fucking mind. You wanted to march right up to him, jab him in the chest with your manicured finger, and make him wish he hadn’t dared challenge you in front of the entire school. And yet, you were frozen in place, trapped in this imbalanced staring contest with Duncan as he continued to play at innocence.

Beside you, you felt Eddie tense up, his arm having fallen from your shoulder at some point, perhaps in total disbelief. But you couldn’t bring yourself to even look at him, to try to gauge what exactly was going through his head - you were too busy staring at Duncan as if your eyes could possibly cause him harm. Your hands formed into fists of rage, your jaw clenching as you were about ready to just to your feet and decimate Duncan with your words.

But as he’d proven himself to be good at time and time again, Eddie beat you to the punch, raising a hand to his mouth in order to project his words, “You know we’d beat all of you!”

You whipped your gaze to Eddie abruptly, surprise causing some of the tension in your face to mellow out. From this close, you could see the apprehension in Eddie’s eyes, the worry hidden there, but to the rest of the school you were certain he looked as if he was entirely too relaxed and composed about this whole confrontation.

Eddie briefly glanced at you, but quickly returned his gaze to Duncan challenging, “The rest of you wouldn’t stand a chance against us!”

A wave of laughter passed through the crowd of students, but you weren't certain if they were laughing with Eddie or at him. Duncan shared a look with the rest of the homecoming court, smiling mockingly at each of them before returning his attention to the two of you; you wondered if he was truly as confident as he looked.

“You think so?” Duncan called back with contempt, daring Eddie to continue. Without realizing what you were doing, you pressed your hand atop Eddie’s knee as if it were a warning, silently asking him not to egg Duncan on. Despite your impulsive desire to jump to your feet and attack Duncan yourself, you couldn’t picture any possible way for this whole melodrama to turn in your favor.

“I’d bet on it!” Eddie challenged again, managing a rather convincing bold smile. Your chest twisted again, your cheeks growing warm with both rage and edginess.

Duncan made a cocky face, finally looking away from you and Eddie to address the crowd as if this was all just a part of the show, as if you and Eddie had played your part and he was now done with you, “Well, we’ll leave it up to all of you! Voting begins today, so come find the student council during lunch hours to place your votes!”

The crowd seemed to lull back into ease as Duncan and Trent continued onto the next phase of information, acting like the past few minutes hadn’t put even the slightest of dents in the assembly festivities. As excitement began to build back up in the crowd, you sat in a daze, still trying to process this entire fucking thing.

Your hand still rested atop Eddie’s knee, and you must have unconsciously squeezed your fingers a little too roughly into his skin, because you heard Eddie hiss beside you. He grabbed your wrist to remove your hand, drawing your eyes to his; you stared at each other with blatant confusion and upset, and it was muddling your brain, making it impossible to think straight.

“Hey--” Eddie started, but you abruptly wrenched your wrist out of his hand and shot to your feet, shoving past all of Eddie’s friends as you stumbled the most straight path accessible down the bleachers. Although the student council continued to speak exuberantly to the crowd, you could feel the intense stares of so many of your peers following you as you quickly stormed out of a set of double doors.

You marched away from the gymnasium with a vexed shine in your eyes, your face red hot with frustration. You couldn’t believe what Duncan just pulled on you, still couldn’t quite come to terms with how shitty that whole thing was - was the entire student council in on this, too? Did they all share a collective laugh when Duncan suggested this disrespectful prank? Had Janet even attempted to say anything in defense of you?

God, you nearly shouted with rage. You thought walking away from your tormentor would help you calm down, but in some stroke of cruelty being alone with your thoughts only made them worse. The fact that someone you once considered a friend - someone you once dated - would make a joke of you in front of everyone was easily one of the more painful things you had to endure.

With an exacerbated sigh, you stopped your incessant marching, considering this whole fucking situation with gritted teeth - in some twisted way, you had gotten what you wanted. After all, it was you who wanted to become some kind of social pariah, you who wanted to be cast out by everyone you thought you knew.

It sure as shit wasn’t supposed to happen like this though. It’s not as if you were exactly thinking ahead when you decided to become completely detached from everyone, but you had never considered that you’d be treated callously. No, like a fool you had hoped that all the popular kids would simply ignore you and pretend that you had never even existed, moving on with their lives as if they’d never even met you. Evidently, your former friends were far more cruel than you’d given them credit for.

Trying to pull yourself together, you leaned against the nearest wall, massaging your temple with your fingertips while breathing deeply. You were the ice princess, the chick who always got away with being cold and bitchy and rude, but you realized in this moment that your reign was most certainly over. Despite your penchant for opinionated crassness, you had never truly been the type to flare with anger as you had today; but of course it would be Duncan to cause this surge of outrage within you.

And you were stupid enough to let him see just how upset you’d gotten.

You knew you had to get it together, to shove down all this distress and instead put on your usual brave face for the world to see. Next time you saw Duncan, you had to read as calm, cold, and only mildly annoyed - you couldn’t hold onto all this wild-eyed agitation.

As you closed your eyes and rested your head back against the wall, you heard someone approaching, prompting you to sigh through your nose as if that would calm you down. You glanced in the direction of the first steps, your gaze falling on Eddie. Of course, it was Eddie - did you really think it could’ve been anyone else?

His entire being practically radiated concern, his eyes shining with unease, his fist clenched around the strap to your book bag that you abandoned when you ran out. As if approaching a skittish animal, Eddie came to lean against the wall with you, the pair of you standing together in contemplative, frustrated silence.

You could feel your upset rising again, unaccustomed to having a companion at your side in moments of anger. You always loathed the idea of being comforted, of having someone there telling you to relax, telling you that everything would be okay. And perhaps you were simply assuming, but you hoped Eddie wouldn’t try to calm you down - you needed to just let yourself be pissed for a while.

“I can’t believe he fucking did that.” You finally said, voice laced with malice. You shook your head in disbelief, staring at the opposite wall, “He’s even shittier than I thought.”

Eddie hummed in agreement, but said nothing, as if he didn’t know the right words to offer you right now. Good, you’d rather he didn’t say anything right now.

Another beat of silence fell between you two. You watched the wall clock with laser focus as you tried to compose yourself, following the second hand as it ticked rhythmically - you had about ten minutes to get your shit together before everyone filtered out of the gym. You couldn’t let any of them see how pathetic you felt.

After one more tense minute, you felt Eddie’s fingers reach for your own, brushing against your knuckles as if hesitant to grab your hand, unsure of what kind of response he’d get. You flinched away while looking down between you, meeting Eddie’s eyes a moment later; he was clearly trying not to show any kind of hurt at your small rejection.

He pressed his lips together as he briefly considered his words, “Come on, I need a cigarette.”

His fingers skimmed past yours again as if to gauge your reaction; you neither pulled away nor reached for him, so with a look of acceptance on his face, Eddie pushed himself off the wall. A mean part of you wanted to shoot Eddie a nasty look as you began to follow him - in your own selfish way, you found yourself wanting to put some of the blame on him, wanting to act like he was part of the problem. But you refrained from reacting poorly, allowing Eddie to guide you out the doors and around the side of the gym, en route to the football field.

Following just a couple steps behind Eddie, the two of you finally reached the bleachers, ducking under them to hide out from any potential prying eyes. As you rested against one of the posts, Eddie dug out a cigarette and lighter, putting a bit of distance between the two of you as he walked deeper under the bleachers. You crossed your arms tightly in front of you while biting the inside of your cheek with annoyance; you watched closely as Eddie inhaled a deep breath of smoke, his eyes looking anywhere but you.

Unintentionally, Eddie’s lack of eye contact fueled your own upset, and suddenly you found yourself annoyed that he couldn’t even seem to look at you. Instead, he stared off in thought, slowly blowing smoke out between his lips. Wordlessly, he held the cigarette out towards you; any other time, you would have taken it from him without a second thought, but this time, you gave Eddie the cold shoulder, turning your attention away.

He dropped his arm limply back at his side, and you could feel his eyes on you for a moment. With a heavy sigh, Eddie brought the cigarette back to his lips; you wondered if the sigh was thanks to you or this entire situation.

“Don’t let him get to you.” His tone seemed a little unsure, scratchy thanks to the smoke coating his throat. You met eyes, Eddie’s stare conveying his own frustrations while yours was mean. To add fuel to the fire, you twisted your face into a snarky look.

“I think it’s a little late for that, Munson.” You said in a clipped tone as you raised your chin defiantly, catching the brief flash of upset that crossed Eddie’s face at your attitude; clearly, he hadn’t expected you to turn it on him all of a sudden. Admittedly, you hadn’t expected it either, but it leapt out of you without any control.

Eddie took a defensive step towards you, his gaze firm as he took another drag from the cigarette; he seemed at conflict with himself as he responded in as level a tone as he could, “Then get it together and don’t take it out on me.”

As you stared back at him with your characteristic coldness, you could feel all your emotional walls building back up - just as you feared, Eddie was trying to get you to relax, and you were too upset to care if you retaliated with an attitude. Right now, you wanted to be mean just for the sake of it, to push him so he’d stop trying to comfort you. You didn’t need him to pretend to care - this was a fake relationship, you reminded yourself, but that didn’t mean Eddie also had to fake niceties when shit got hard.

Eddie gave you a look of warning, as if somehow he could read your mind, as if he could tell that you were trying to block him out. And you nearly made a face as if to mock his concern, but you managed to refrain, pressing your lips firmly together.

“I already made myself look stupid in front of the entire fucking school, I can’t act like that didn’t happen.” You whined, abruptly spinning on your heel to begin pacing once again, that stupid habit of yours that did nothing to calm you down, “I’m a fucking joke.”

You couldn’t stand the look that crossed Eddie’s face, although you weren’t sure what exactly it meant - there was something akin to pity in his eyes that you didn’t like, “You’re not.”

His response was simple yet stern, and you threw him another snide look a moment before he turned his gaze away yet again. Were you beginning to piss him off? To upset him? That cynical part of you hoped so.

Eddie breathed deeply for another couple of moments as he collected his thoughts, his voice a touch smaller than it was a moment ago, “This is high school, princess - you can’t take everything so seriously.”

Frustration started to well in your chest as you glared at his profile, at his dumb little frown, the way he fussed with the cigarette between his fingers, the slight slump of his shoulders, “Well, I do. All I wanted was for them to forget about me, but instead they’ve decided to make me some kind of a target for their immature bullshit!”

“Welcome to the club!” Eddie rounded on you, abruptly matching your antagonistic tone; his eyes were dark, if not a little wild, and you were nearly taken aback, but instead your glare only deepened. You’d never seen Eddie look angry before, and the rational side of you that was buried extra deep right now decided that you never wanted that anger to be directed at you again.

Edd took a moment to think, laughing without even a trace of humor before he inhaled another deep breath of smoke, his eyes narrowing a little as he continued, “What the hell did you expect? Did you really think you could start hanging around a freak like me and get off scot-free? I know you’re not that naive, so don’t act like you didn’t see it coming.”

You gaped at Eddie���s bluntness, completely unprepared for this show of temper. For only a split second, you could feel yourself getting overwhelmed, but just like every other feeling you had, you shoved that down with a scowl. You two stared harshly at one another, the moment stretching out uncomfortably between you. Eventually, you shook your head with a scoff, turning your back to Eddie.

“Of all the things I could’ve done, I can’t believe I thought coming to you for help was the best option.” You started, speaking coldly through your teeth, “I was stupid to ask you for shit, and you were stupider for agreeing to it.”

The silence that fell over you was thick enough to cut with a knife, the static tension in the air nearly painful. If you weren’t so upset, you may have considered how dramatic and mean you were being, you may have considered that you didn’t have to treat Eddie as if he was the problem; but you were too angry to care.

From behind you, Eddie huffed out a deep, disappointed sigh; you heard the toe of his shoe twist on the gravel as he put out the cigarette he’d clung to like a lifeline. Your posture grew even more taut, arms crossing more aggressively and jaw clenching so hard that you were grinding your teeth.

Eddie began to take slow steps towards you, walking around so that you were forced to face each other again; he hovered mere inches from you, ensuring that you could see his upset with total clarity. His gaze was perturbed and severe, mouth twisted into a frown, shoulders rigid with indignation. He silently held out your long forgotten book bag, barely giving you time to reach for it before he carelessly dropped it into your hand; your grip was virtually nonexistent, and the bag hit the ground with a sad thud.

It was so clear that Eddie wanted to say something, but he held back his words, a calculating and thoughtful look on his face. You stared rigidly at one another, your expression cold and cruel, his hurt and despondent, the both of you waiting for the other to act first.

Finally, Eddie shook his head smally as he looked down at the ground, walking away from you without another word or glance back.

.

.

Taglist (if you'd like to be added, pls let me know | @a-queen-blr @avalon-wolf @costellation-hunter @daisy-munson

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@munsonssweets @no-bueno-writer @rach5ive @sav12321 @sheneedsrocknroll92

@steeldaisies @stormgrl19

[heeology]

I have a request for a fic where both Jake and reader are starting their freshman year of college and jake is applying to be in a frat, but to be accepted the brothers in the frat make a bet with him to make the reader sleep with him ….

a/n -> omg i was literally thinking abt writing a jake fic (which i'll get to soon) and then this pops up lmao. but your mind...lord, this is such a good idea. anyway, tysm for being my first request !! it means a lot lol and i rlly hope you enjoy this :)) then, just in general, if you also sent me a request, i promise i have seen it !! i just work five days a week now, so i don't rlly have a lot of time to sit and write, but i promise i am working on them and will release them when i can 💕

are you down or what? | s.jy

pairing -> futurefratboy!jake x fem!reader

genre -> college au, best friends (alludes) to fwb

warnings -> MDNI, smut, drinking, cursing, mention of weed (no drug use tho)

w.c. -> 7.3k

!!DO NOT COPY OR REPOST!!

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Going to college is already scary enough, moving to college is even scarier. You wouldn’t categorize yourself as the “outgoing type” and you had pretty much figured your college experience would be dull and stressful; Junior year of high school pretty much prepped you for that. Luckily (depending on how you see it) for you, Jake is the complete opposite. He loved extra-curriculars, joining clubs, joining sports teams, and always made honor roll; essentially, he loved making new friends, trying new things. Everyone adored him and he had practically a long line of people waiting to be his friend. If only they knew they just had to be allergic to any sort of social activity and he would’ve immediately taken them under his wing. He’s always tried to have you venture out of your comfort zone, and sometimes, it worked. This time, however, you honestly didn’t see yourself branching out alongside him. Which both bummed you out and seemed as if it was inevitable. 

Who knew that the kid you met at your fifth grade honor roll assembly and pizza party would be the one you ended up applying to colleges with, let alone plan on going to the same college with? Well, actually, you and Jake didn’t quite get along at first, it was your moms that became best friends well before the two of you did. But, thankfully, both of your moms showed up to the honor roll assembly and brought the two of you together. Even if at first he would try to make conversation with you and you would just nod your head in response, too shy to actually say anything back. At first, he thought you hated him and at the time, you thought he was annoying, but somehow you both came to find these qualities about each other endearing. There were a lot of times you were grateful to have met him and have him as your best friend.

But when he brought up the topic of a fraternity mixer while he was helping–well, more like he was the only one working–assemble an IKEA storage unit for your dorm room as you both sat on your floor, you automatically rolled your eyes. You weren’t surprised in the slightest that one of the first things he wanted to do since you guys got to college was join a frat; it’s like he was born for this, and you mean it in the least douchey way possible. 

“Come on, it’s just like, some mixer; nothing major. I really want you to come. Please?” he says as he drags out the “e” at the end. 

You roll your eyes again and let out a huff, handing him the screwdriver to which he rolls his eyes in return and takes it. “It’s only been a week and you’re already rushing a frat?”

“What? Think I’m not good enough for them?” he asks, joking as he continues to assemble the storage unit for you. You knew he was perfect for this sort of thing, you swear, he was already breezing through it as a pledge, or at least he was making it seem like it. Besides, you’re pretty sure that he is even mistaken as a member already around campus. “It’s not even going to be that bad. Plus, there’s going to be free booze and hella cute chicks, so there’s that to look forward to.” he says as he grins to himself.

“Gross,” you mumble, “it’s not really sounding like there’s anything for me at this dumb thing.”

He chuckles a little. “What? You mean the thought of hanging out with a bunch of sweaty dudes playing beer pong doesn’t sound enticing?”

You shudder, “You’re not really selling your case here, pal.”

He laughs. “C’moooonnnnn,” he whines, playfully bumping his shoulder with yours, “I promise you’ll have fun. And if not, then we’ll just leave after an hour and get some food. Sound good?”

You think for a moment before letting out a huff, “Fine. But if you even leave me alone for a second with those…heathens, then I will never speak to you again.” you say, half joking, half serious.

“You’re acting like these dudes are all terrible people; they’re not the spawn on Satan, y’know.” he says as he can sense the hesitance and apprehension in your voice. “I promise I won’t leave you and I’ll hold your hand the whole time.” he says as he coos and then laughs to himself.

“Dear god.” you mutter, rolling your eyes again, which only makes him chuckle.

“I’m just kidding. But seriously, you’re coming. Who knows, it could be a funny story later on.”

“Right. I bet it’ll elicit all sorts of chuckles.” you say, sarcastically.

He laughs again, shaking his head slightly as he focuses on working on the IKEA product. He shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe you’ll even meet someone there. Imagine if you fell in love with one of the frat dudes.” he laughs at his own thought. 

You scoff, “Ew.”

“I know, right? How mortifying, you fall in love with some muscular, frat boy named Chad.” he shivers, “Scary.” he says, teasing you.

You laugh, “Shut up.”

He chuckles softly and then stops working to look at you. “But seriously, will you please come with me? It would be nice having you there, and it will be our first college party together, how can you possibly pass that up?” he says as he pouts slightly, giving you his best “puppy dog eyes”.

You roll your eyes and playfully shove his shoulder, “Ew, fine! Stop doing that.”

He laughs and grins, “You are the best friend I could ever ask for!” he says, acting overly enthusiastic as he hugs you tightly, ruffles your hair, then kisses your cheek. “We’re gonna have so much fun, you’ll see.”

“Bleh,” you jokingly whine as you wipe your cheek, “yeah, yeah. Just finish my storage thing.”

He rolls his eyes, “Yes ma’am.” he says as he continues working for a few more minutes. He finishes working on the storage unit, turning it upright and smiling proudly. “What would you do without me, honestly? BOOM!” he says as he smacks it lightly, “There it is, built by yours truly; you’re welcome.” he says with a smug grin.

“Alright, alright, calm down.” you say as you laugh a bit. You stand up, rolling it over to a corner in your dorm room.

Jake follows your lead, standing up as well. “Here, I can even help you pick out something to wear for the party. I was thinking of wearing a Polo-”

You turn to him and grimace, “Dear god, you’re already becoming one of them.”

He laughs and scoffs, “Hey, I make Polo’s look hot, don’t even try to act like I don’t. Besides, if I wear a short sleeved one, it will totally show off my muscles.” he says as he flexes a bit, grinning. You roll your eyes and pretend to gag and he laughs and stops flexing before nudging your arm. “Shut up.” he mumbles and turns to look at your closet. “Do you still have that dress you wore to that grad party we went to over the summer?”

“I mean, I think.” you say as you walk over to your closet rummaging inside it (even if there isn’t much room to rummage through).

You were kind of surprised to hear him talk about a dress you wore almost two months ago, but you didn’t think too much about it. You suppose maybe he only did because it was the first dress you wore in a while, so maybe he just subconsciously remembered about it. He glances at you as you look for the dress. He was secretly grateful you didn’t tease him for remembering about it, but he just thought you looked pretty in it. Not that you aren’t pretty all the time just…that time…he shakes his head to himself; it’s just a pretty dress.

He crosses his arms and peers over your shoulder, looking into what clothes you have in your closet as well. “What about that white top?” he asks, pointing out a white, low-cut tank top that is discarded to the side of the closet. “Wear that with a nice skirt or something; that’d look good.”

You glance at it and laugh, “I wear that to bed when it’s too hot. I am not wearing that to the party; my boobs will literally be spilling out of it.”

He pauses for a moment before speaking again. “And that’s a bad thing because…?” He grins, giving you a quick wink which results in you punching his shoulder. He laughs and rubs his shoulder. “Kidding, kidding! But seriously, pick out something. You’ll look amazing in whatever you choose.” he shrugs casually. You roll your eyes and keep rummaging through your closet, suddenly hating every article of clothing you own. He leans against the wall next to your closet, “I swear to god, I can never understand why girls sometimes take so long to pick out what they wear. It’s like, how hard can it be to choose something quickly and then wear it?”

“Jesus, fine, you pick out something, then.” you say as you walk over to your bed, laying on it. “You’re the one who wants me to go, anyway.”

Jake smiles mischievously, walking over to your closet and looking through your clothes. “Do you have those tight, high-waisted jeans? The ones you wore last weekend?”

You raise an eyebrow. Is he talking about the ones you wore to the brunch your mom took you out to with him and his mom? You laugh. “Probably. My mom bought them, so she probably snuck them in there somewhere.” you don’t even realize you’re smiling a bit to yourself, a part of you secretly liking that he remembered them; maybe you looked better than you thought. “Aren’t skinny jeans, like, out or whatever?”

Jake shrugs. “All I know is your ass looked good.” he says as he spots them after looking through some of your bottoms. He grabs them and tosses them at you, the jeans hitting your stomach, causing you to let out a small “oomph”. “And pair it with that white tank top. For your shoes…” he shrugs, “maybe your Doc Martens or something casual. That’ll look good.” he says as he looks at you, nodding his head in satisfaction. “There. Done. And it only took, like, two minutes. See? It wasn’t even hard.” he jokes.

“You chose, quite literally, the most basic outfit known to man.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not even that bad. Besides, you’ll pull it off, anyway.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “I’ll wear the pants and the shoes, but I am not wearing my “booby” shirt, you perv.”

“Oh, c’mon. You know you like to show it off sometimes.” he says, grinning as he wiggles his eyebrows before laughing softly. “Just wear it, please? For me?” he jokes in a playfully flirty tone. “Plus, I need some sort of eye candy when we go to this thing.”

You scoff, playfully. “Ohhhhh, I see what this is.” you say as you sit up on your bed. “You’re hoping if you bring a hot girl to the mixer, you’ll have an automatic in with these frat fuckers, right?”

The tips of Jake’s ears turn slightly red and he scoffs, looking away before looking back at you. “What? No, that’s not the reason. Not the entire reason, anyway.” he says, laughing slightly to hide his embarrassment. “It’ll just be nice to go with you, okay?”

“Uh-huh, suuuurrrreeee.”

He laughs before going to sit beside you on your bed. “Okay, fine, fine, you got me. I did want to bring a hot girl so it'd be easier to get in with the frat. But that's not the whole reason! I also wanted to go with my best friend since we haven't really hung out this week because of classes. And I knew I'd need at least one sane person to keep me in check. Or, at least, as sane as you can get." he teases, wearing that stupid giddy grin of his he gets whenever he feels he said something hilarious. 

You scoff, playfully, “Watch it.” you warn.

He laughs, “Sorry, sorry. I meant a perfectly sane, normal human who doesn’t listen to musicals in her spare time.”

You nudge his arm, “Hey! That was middle school me, back off.”

He laughs again, “I’m messing with you. But seriously, I am glad that you’re coming. It’ll be way more fun with you there.” he smiles that typical charming smile he does, not because he knows he looks good doing it, but because he just does anyway. “I really do appreciate you. Especially since you’re ‘sacrificing’ your sanity to be surrounded by these frat guys.”

“Soon, you’ll be one of them.” you shudder, “I’ll have to start writing my obituary for you.”

“Oh, come on, we’re not all that bad. I'm sure there's at least a few decent guys there that aren't complete douchebags. They're just...eccentric." he jokes, "This mixer will be a great chance for me to maybe get an in with the career path I wanna take plus if I leave a good impression with the frat guys, maybe I won’t have to be a pledge for much longer."

“‘We’re’? Oh my god, you’re already clumping yourself together with them!” you say in fake horror.

“Oh my god, you’re right.” he says in the same tone with a shocked expression. “I’m turning into one of them without even realizing it! Quick, snap me out of it!” he says, laughing slightly. 

You shrug, “Gladly.” you say before punching his shoulder. It honestly hurts your knuckles, but you decide to keep that to yourself and ignore the pins and needles shooting through your hand.

He frowns and looks at you with an “i’m not mad, just disappointed look” which causes you to burst out laughing. “You know, you’ve got a mean right hook. Who knows, you might be the one joining the frat.” he says, rubbing his shoulder a little before wrapping his hand over your knuckles, squeezing it a little. He knows you probably hurt your hand a bit, so he hopes this makes your hand feel a little better before letting go. 

“I’d rather die.” you say in such a serious manner, he can’t tell whether you’re joking or not, but he laughs nonetheless. 

“Just get dressed. I’ll come get you later, okay?” he says as he gets off of your bed.

You groan, “Fine. But I hope you know, you are throwing me to the wolves by making me wear this outfit.”

He laughs and opens your door. “Have to let them know I’m there with the best-looking, smartest, and funniest girl at the party somehow.” he says with a wink.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms. “You’re lucky flattery works with me.” you mutter.

He grins, “What can I say? I know you so well, babe.” he says before nodding his head as a goodbye and walking out of your dorm room, closing the door behind him.

-

Against your will (and your own regard for fashion), you wore what Jake had picked out for you. He smirks a bit as he looks at you after opening your door when he knocks around a few hours later. He looks you up and down, and you notice how his gaze lingered a little longer on your chest before meeting your eyes. You cross your arms, unintentionally pushing your chest a little together, he scoffs as his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek.

“Yeah…I’m for sure getting into this frat.” he says, mainly saying it to himself, but you would be lying if it didn’t give you a little bit of an ego boost.

“Pipe down, it’s literally the most basic outfit known to man.”

“But you make it look hot…real hot.” he grins.

You roll your eyes and shove his shoulder. “Don’t even.” you mumble as you walk out of your dorm room, closing and locking the door behind you. 

He laughs softly as you start walking to the frat house, which is just around a block away. As you step outside, you shiver a bit from the cold and you frown at the fact that you didn’t bring a jacket, but you honestly felt too lazy to turn around and go back to grab one. He notices (and since he wasn’t wearing one either), he opts for putting his arm around your shoulders, pulling you a bit closer. 

“You have to admit, this is a little exciting. I mean, it’s our first college party and I’ll make it my mission to make it memorable.”

He honestly means that; he genuinely wants you to have a good time. He knows how you would rather be spending your time right now, just laying in your bed as you watch some show you’ve seen a thousand times, but he wants to break you out of that. Not that he has any problem with you being more introverted or wants to mold you into something he wants you to be, he has a more…specific reason than that. Your smile. As you two walk, he smiles to himself just thinking about it. How, whenever he sees you smiling this certain way–like you’re smiling for the first time–it’s like time stops; like you’re the only thing of importance in that very moment because nothing else matters, nothing else could possibly compare to how special and beautiful you look in those moments. It makes him feel giddy and the first time he ever saw you smile like that, he knew he had to do whatever it took to make it happen again. 

“Maybe for you, but if it smells like B.O. and weed, I am so out of there.”

He laughs and covers his mouth, his laugh coming out louder than he expected it to. He runs that hand through his hair and turns his head to look at you. “I feel like you have some underlying stereotypes about frat boys.”

“And until this party proves me otherwise, it’ll stay that way.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then you’re on your own once you join their cult.”

He chuckles softly and shakes his head a bit. “I’m not going to become some buff incel just because I want to join this fraternity.”

You knew that. Well, you were hoping that would be the case. But this is different. This is college. Dramatic, maybe, but you were afraid the two of you would split apart and although you have other friends, he’s the one you’ve had for years. He knows everything about you and has seen you through all of your phases and vice versa. You just feel this looming anxiety that him joining this fraternity will be the first step in the direction of you two no longer being friends; that you’ll just become people you pass by on your way to class. You don’t want to tell him this, though, you’re not really ready to have a discussion (which may turn into an argument) about this just yet. You feel terrible for wanting this, but you’re secretly hoping he doesn’t get in. Not because you don’t want him to branch out and experience his own things in college, well, maybe a little. Maybe you’re selfish. Or maybe you’re saving him from turning into a douche. At least, that’s what you’ll tell yourself to feel better about hoping he doesn’t get in. It’s just because you want him to not forget about you. You’re not as outgoing as him, so what if he starts to find you to be boring? The thought made you frown.

-

Ten minutes. It’s been ten minutes and this party is already making you feel like you’re being suffocated from the amount of people at this thing, all of whom already seem to be drunk. Once you and Jake got here, you could already tell you were going to hate every lousy minute you had to spend at this party. Especially since there have already been a few people who’ve had their eyes on you for a little longer than you wanted. You tried to make this situation a positive, trying to just relax and have fun as you see Jake greeting the many people he already knows. It’s only been a week since the semester started and he already knew at least twenty people here (yes, you counted). He introduced you to everyone he’s greeted, though, he didn’t want to make you feel left out. He could see you were a little uncomfortable, probably just because it was crowded and loud, so he decided to take you to the kitchen, getting the two of you some drinks. 

He smiles warmly, “We can dance if you want, or we can just talk, drink, get wasted, and judge people. Up to you.” he says, nudging your arm.

You smile a little and playfully roll your eyes. “I know that’s now what you want to do.”

“But it’s what you want to do.”

You look at him for a moment and before you say anything back, you hear a loud, booming voice calling Jake over. You both look and see some of the frat brothers laughing and motioning for him to come over as they yell at him like he’s some football player on the team they love. You glance at Jake. 

“Please go so they stop.”

He laughs and nods, walking over to them. You take another sip of your drink and then you see someone you met in one of your classes. They notice you and wave and you wave back before going over to talk with them.

Jake walks over to the group of four of the frat boys and greets them, dapping them up. One of them motions their head towards you, “So…who’s she?” he asks, crossing his arms as he grins. The others nod their heads and Jake turns to glance at you before looking at them.

He shrugs, smiling shyly, “She’s my best friend-”

“She rushing Delta Theta Zow?” another one asks.

Jake shakes his head, “Nah, sororities aren’t her thing.”

“Too bad, she’s hot.”

Jake feels himself frown slightly at that. Sure, his intention was to hopefully have them think you’re hot so they would be more inclined to go easier on him when hazing, maybe even just decide to let him in if he could prove he knew some hot girls despite how shallow that sounds. It’s just the way he said it, the way they’re looking at you, that makes him feel sick. 

“Tell you what, Jakey, you let us…get to know her, and who knows, you might just be exactly who we’re looking for.” one of them suggests.

Jake feels all of the blood suddenly drain out of his body and the frat brother grins, nudging another one. “Or, tell you what.” he says, putting his arm around Jake, “You sleep with her and you may just be one of the newest members of Alpha Omega Phi. Sound like a deal?”

“You want me to…”

“Fuck her.”

Well, there goes his chances of joining this frat, which surprisingly, is one of the more tame options out of the other ones. This one has great connections to people in the field of computer science and engineering, which is what he desperately wants to achieve. This could give him a big head start…but he can’t just use you.

He chuckles nervously, “I don’t know…she’s not like that-”

“Too bad,” the frat brother says as he takes his arm off of Jake, “We thought you would’ve fit right in with us.” the others nod their heads in agreement.

Jake thinks for a moment. “...alright…fine.”

The four of them cheer, which ignites cheers from other party goers, making Jake look around and find it a bit strange that they hold that kind of power. 

“You can use Bradley’s room, he could use some sort of action on that bed.” one of them teases and the others laugh. Jake nods his head, trying to laugh along and then they shove him to go over to you. Jake quickly walks over to you, setting his drink on the counter and grabs your arm. 

“The hell-?” you say as he quickly drags you upstairs into a bedroom and he closes the door behind the two of you, looking at you kind of panicked. “What the hell is your problem-”

“They want me to fuck you.”

You feel yourself freeze, all of your muscles tensing up at what just came out of his mouth. Was he being serious? “...deadass?”

“Deadass.”

“Damn…” you mutter, him releasing your arm from his grip. “So…”

He shrugs, “So…” he repeats.

“Guess you’re not getting into this frat.”

He looks at you for a moment, “So, this is like…a for sure thing.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Dude, I’m not having sex with you so you can join a frat.”

“Come on,” he pleads, using his puppy dog eyes again. To be honest, he knew you would say no for obvious reasons, but this was important to him. Sure, you’re important to him, too, which is kind of why he also figured you would be okay with doing this as a favor. “this is really important, I have to get into this frat. I could get an upper hand with some major companies I want to work for once we graduate. Please?” he clasps his hands together, “Just do me this one favor.”

“Fucking me is not a favor.”

“Well, it’s also not a punishment-”

You scoff, shoving his shoulder lightly and he laughs softly. It goes quiet for a moment between the two of you and he looks at you, expecting, wanting you to change your mind.

“How would they know, anyway? Can’t we just, like, pretend to have had sex? You know, like that scene in Easy A.” you suggest.

“In what?”

“Oh my god, we have to add that to our list of movies to watch, it has Emma Stone, so you already know it’s going to be good-”

“Okay, okay, yeah we can watch it later. Are you going to let me fuck you or what?”

You groan, “Can’t I just give you my panties or something and then you can wave them around and brag about it? Actually, don’t do that.”

“Look, this frat is made up of guys in business, engineering, chemistry, and physics majors, they’re not stupid. They’ll know, trust me, and I really don’t want to have to deal with any more hazing because I’m pretty sure it’s just going to keep getting worse and I would actually like to survive my first few weeks of college.”

“Or…you could just not join.”

He frowns, “You know how much this means to me.” You sigh. Yes, you thought this was stupid, but you also weren’t dumb enough to not realize how joining this frat could actually help him in the future. You saw the superficialness of it all and you knew he wasn’t dumb enough to see past it either, but Jake has worked really hard and besides, you would be lying if you said you saw this as a worst case scenario. “Please?” he asks, anticipating your answer.

You sigh again, “Fine.”

He smiles, “God, yes, thank you so much.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“I’ll make you feel so fucking good.” he says. You thought you should take it as a joke, but he says it with a more serious tone before he hooks his fingers through the loop of your jeans, pulling you closer as he leans in, kissing you. 

You were a little surprised by him just going for it so suddenly, but you close your eyes and kiss him back. His hand travels up to your waist, holding onto it as his other hand moves to the side of your face, cupping it as he pulls you closer, his fingers slightly tangling with your hair. He tilts his head, slipping his tongue past your lips, sending shivers down your spine as it slides over your own. He kisses you with a sort of hunger, not expecting to be kissing you with so much intensity, but once his lips met yours, it’s like a switch went off for him and he can’t help himself from wanting you more and more. 

He guides the two of you over to the bed as you continue to kiss, him grunting softly as his eyebrows furrow together, feeling himself getting hard from just kissing you. He parts from your lips, having you both gasp for air before he pushes your hair aside, feeling his long, thin fingers brush past your neck before being replaced with his soft, plump lips. He leaves open mouthed kisses along the side of your neck before turning you around, your ass pressing against his hard on, making him moan softly into your ear from the contact, his precum leaking and staining his underwear and pants. You tease him, grinding against him slightly which makes him bite your neck softly as he continues kissing along the side of it, down to your shoulder. He grips your hips tightly, stopping your movements and you feel his lips and hot breath brush against your ear.

“Don’t play with me.” he whispers, gently nibbling on your earlobe before pulling away. His hands slip to the button of your jeans, undoing it and slowly zipping down the zipper. He pushes your jeans down just slightly, a little past your ass and he feels like he’s going to pass out from his fingertips gently grazing the edge of your underwear alone. He kisses your neck again, his left hand going to your neck, gently gripping it as he moves your head to the side to give him more room. That action alone almost makes you moan, but you just gasp softly as his right hand slips its fingers past your waistband, finally feeling them push against you. He moans at the feeling of you already being so wet and he coats his fingers in your arousal, making a mess in your panties. 

He uses his middle and ring finger to press and circle your clit, causing you to gasp and close your eyes, your head falling back against his shoulder and he pulls away from your neck, breathing slightly heavily. He turns his head to look at you, leaving gentle kisses on the side of your face as he moves his fingers down, pushing them inside of you. From the way your lips part and you let out the softest moan, your eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly, he can feel himself almost cum at the sight alone. He pushes his fingers in and out of you, his thumb rubbing your clit and he leaves a kiss against your ear.

“That’s right, baby, you like this, hm? Fuck, you’re so wet, do you want me to just fuck you now?” he whispers against your ear, knowing he, himself, wants nothing more than to do just that. He fingers you faster, curling them against your walls as the pads of his fingers reach areas you can’t. You moan louder, feeling your legs shake and he smirks. “I bet you taste so good.” he whispers and he pulls his fingers out of you and your panties. “Open.” he demands and you open your mouth, slightly sticking out your tongue and he puts his fingers into your mouth. You lick them as he shoves them a little deeper and then pulls them out, sliding the mixture of your spit and arousal on your bottom lip before he turns your head and kisses you, wanting to taste you. He licks your lip, he sucks your tongue, anything he can just to have you on his lips. He moans softly and pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your lips before breaking. He’s decided he needs more.

He runs his hand along your back, slightly pushing you so you bend over the bed. You can feel your heartbeat against the comforter of the bed. He pulls your jeans down to your ankles, biting his bottom lip as he grins at the full view of your ass on display. His eyes look over how soaked your panties are, feeling a sense of pride knowing he did it. He gently squeezes and kisses one side of your ass, playfully biting it and then realizes he likes the idea of him marking you like this. He bites it a little harder, you moaning and whining at the feeling, your fingers gripping onto the bed sheet. He grins, kissing his teeth marks before he pulls down your underwear, feeling as though he is looking at the gates of heaven itself, his eyes locking onto your pussy. He mumbles something to himself that you can’t hear, but you suddenly feel his tongue slide slowly along and in between your folds. Your mouth opens as you moan, feeling yourself clenching around nothing and he chuckles softly, licking his lips.

He can feel his cock twitch in his pants, more warm precum sticking to his thigh and underwear. He goes back in for more, low groans and moans coming deeply from his throat as he buries his face into your swollen pussy, covering his face in your slick. “You taste so fucking good.” he says with a raspy voice, the vibrations feeling as though they travel throughout your whole body as you moan, feeling his tongue lick feverishly. You feel yourself drool at how he spreads your legs more, his nose and tongue all pressing into you more, him hooking his arms under your thighs, his hands resting and squeezing your ass, raising your hips slightly as he licks and sucks your clit. His nose rubs between your swollen folds as you moan louder, gripping the sheets tighter. 

He licks faster, making out with your cunt as his tongue slips in and out of you. You let out a long moan, feeling as if your knees buckle, cumming all over his tongue, lips, chin, and nose. He moans into your pussy, licking up all of your release and he pulls away, looking at your glistening pussy, rubbing his fingers between your slit, spreading the mixture of his spit and your cum all over. His tongue licks his lips clean, reaching down to lick the part of his chin it can reach and he lets out a low groan, relishing in your taste. You whine as he gives a soft slap to your pussy, licking his fingers clean before using it to collect your cum from the rest of his face and licking that up as well. 

He flips you over, leaning down to kiss you again and you kiss him back eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands roam along the sides of your body, his right one moving up to your chest and groping your breast through your shirt, you moan and whine as he squeezes it tightly, palming and kneading it as he starts to kiss you roughly. His breaths are heavy and before he even knows what he’s doing, he rips your shirt open, his patience dwindling with each second that passes. He kisses down your throat and buries his face between your breasts, kneading them as he kisses between them. He squeezes and pushes them together, licking across them and switching between each one to leave kisses on. He pulls down the cups of the bra, your nipples hardening more from the sudden cold air hitting them as your breathing becomes shallow and you moan with how he is handling you. 

He flicks his tongue over your nipple, sucking and gently tugging at it with his teeth. His tongue swirls around your nipple, his hand squeezing the breast to fill more of his mouth as saliva runs down his chin. He moves and does the same with the other one and your chest rises and falls, moans escaping your lips. Your hand moves and tugs at his shirt, pulling the fabric up and he notices, moving away from you as he takes it off quickly. You feel yourself get even wetter at the sight of his toned arms and abs, looking over every curve of his upper body and he grins. He takes your hand and places it on his abs, moving it over them slowly and you both moan quietly to yourselves. He lets go of your hand and slides off his shoes, you taking the initiative to do the same. You both undress the rest of yourselves quickly and you feel yourself stop in your tracks when you see his long, thick cock slap against his abdomen. You clench around nothing as your eyes look over each vein, biting your bottom lip. 

You reach out, using your finger to slide it over his tip, collecting the precum. His breath gets caught in his throat as he watches you, as you also collect the precum from the side of his thigh. You bring your fingers to your lips, licking them slowly as you look up at him. He watches you intently, his eyes shifting from your fingers, to your tongue, to your lips, to your eyes. You let out a soft moan as you taste him, licking your fingers clean and he reaches out, his hand grabbing your chin and lifting your head up to look at him more. He looks down at you, grinning before kissing you, tasting him on your tongue; that fact alone made him feel proud. He pushes you back against the bed, positioning himself between your legs. He kisses your temple muttering a “thank you” before pushing himself into you. 

Your back arches slightly at the feeling, the pressure between your legs, the way that your walls mold and clench around his cock makes your head spin. You can feel the ridges of the veins in his cock grazing against them, making you clench tighter. He grits his teeth, cursing under his breath as he pushes himself fully into you. He moans and whines a little at the overwhelming feeling of you around him. His forehead rests on yours as he catches his breath, his hands wandering down the sides of your waist to your hips, gripping them tightly as he holds back the urge to cum. He thrusts slowly, sliding in and out of you, subtle squelching noises of your wetness coating his cock. This sound alone, however, causes him to go faster, moans spilling from your lips as the bed creaks harshly, the headboard hitting the wall. His grip becomes tighter and he clenches his jaw, letting out short breaths as he pulls away, watching your tits bounce with each thrust. He reaches and grabs one, playing with your nipple and fondling the breast, his eyes rolling back a bit as he moans. He fucks into you harder and faster, his hips meeting yours quickly, his balls slapping against your ass, the sound of your skin slapping, your moans becoming increasingly louder as your cunt swallows his cock each time he thrusts into it, his soft whines with short moans, and your arousal spreading between your thighs while getting on his drives him wild. 

He pulls out and you gasp at the empty feeling. He grabs your hips and flips you over, pushing your ass up and spreading your legs, sliding himself back in, pounding into you harder and faster. You moan–almost screaming–at the sudden change of pace, your face buried into the mattress as your body shakes. He moans, gripping your ass tightly as he uses that to keep him steady while he fucks you. You moan and scream his name into the mattress, making him moan in return. He grabs a handful of your hair, pulling your head up from the mattress, making you moan and gasp.

“Scream it now.” he demands, fucking you deeper, his other hand reaching to rub circles on your clit hard and fast.

Your eyes roll back a bit and you comply, screaming his name, letting out a lewd moan afterwards as pleasure overtakes your body, your orgasm crashing down. You clench tightly around him, repeating his name over and over as you cum. That was all he needed and until now, he never realized that’s all he wanted. He thrusts harshly a few more times, going back to gripping your hips before moaning your name and pulling out. He pumps his cock a few times and flips you back over, you just giving in because your mind was blank at the moment. He moves up and moans deeply as he cums on your breasts, watching as the pearly white liquid spills on your nipples and the soft flesh, feeling warm and sticky on your skin.

He lets out a breath he seemed to be holding and kisses you. You kiss him back, sloppily, before he pulls away, moving to your chest. He kisses your nipples, a little bit of his cum on his lips before he licks it off. He uses his pointer and middle fingers to spread the cum around your nipples in a slow, circular motion, making you shiver. He smiles, and collects his cum onto his fingers off of your breasts. You open your mouth and he chuckles softly, sticking his fingers in your mouth as you suck and lick them.

“So good…so pretty…” he whispers to you. 

You blush a little and he pulls his fingers out. He moves off of you and you both just take some time to catch your breath. You sit up and you both look at each other before bursting out into laughter. You both calm down after a moment before getting up to put on your clothes, but after you put on everything but your shirt is when you realize you can’t. 

You glare at him, “Genius, what the hell am I supposed to wear?” you ask, holding up your ripped shirt.

He laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, “Damn, my bad.” he looks around and then he takes off his shirt, handing it to you. You raise an eyebrow and take it, putting it on. He walks to the closet and just grabs a shirt from there, putting it on. “I’ll give it back later.” he says, to which you laugh. 

You both walk out of the room, seeing two of the frat boys Jake was talking to earlier. They smile smugly and whistle, cheering a bit and you roll your eyes. They give a thumbs up to Jake and he smiles a bit awkwardly before leaning to whisper in your ear, “Let’s get out of here.” You both walk silently as you leave the party. After a moment, he speaks, “Thanks…by the way…and I’ll buy you a new shirt and…I definitely owe you one.”

“You better get into this frat, I swear to God.”

He laughs, “Damn right.” he says as he nudges your arm and you nudge back. “So, how can I make this up to you?”

You think for a moment and then shrug. “It wasn’t all that bad.”

He scoffs, “Gee, thanks.”

You laugh, “You know what I mean.”

He smirks and looks at you. “You know…you look even hotter in my shirt.”

You roll your eyes and laugh. “What a random thing to say.”

He shrugs, “Maybe…we could do this again.”

You look at him, quiet for a moment. “...very funny.”

“I’m serious.” he says as he looks back at you. He smiles a bit and wraps his arm around your shoulder. “Are you down or what?”

[ifimdreaming]

can i take you home?

luke hughes x reader || angst, fluff

request: “i like the idea of her best friend going to michigan/dating a former teammate of lukes so thats how luke and reader meet! i love angst and given that its lukes rookie year/she goes to college in another state, maybe they could be friends w benefits but both have strong feelings.”

author's note: i thought this request was so so cute so i kind of took it and ran. also kinda influenced by i miss you, im sorry by gracie abrams. this is also super long but i hope the ending is worth it. let me know if i should do more parts of this!

word count: 5.0k

-

Waking up to the sound of your best friend pounding on the guest bedroom door at 7am was not exactly the best way to start your day. But since you are staying the weekend in her student house that she shares with 5 other people, there are definitely unluckier ways you could have been awoken. 

“Morning sleepy head!!! I'm so happy you're up!” your best friend Emma almost shouts as she barges in the room, after you very reluctantly told her she could come in. She immediately begins opening the curtains, and rummaging through her closet to find her outfit for the day.

In her haste she almost spills the two cups of coffee she had brought up from the kitchen as she sets them on the dresser beside the bed, her mug being almost completely empty anyway. You can tell by her enthusiasm and caffeine intake that she has been up for quite a long time before deciding to wake you up. 

You groggily roll over and face away from the wide open curtains, not ready to face the day yet and really disappointed in yourself for choosing to drive up so late last night in the first place.

Of course you were happy to be able to visit your best friend, the two of you going to different schools making it incredibly hard to spend much time together anymore. But being back here brought back so many memories of the last time you visited. Both good and bad. And to be honest, all you could think about was him. From the very moment Emma invited you, he has been on your mind nonstop. 

The way he made you feel so utterly adored when he brought you back to his room, how he spoke to you so gently and quietly the one morning when you were hungover, the time he spilled and called you ‘his’ while you were in bed together, and how much it seemed like it would last forever. It was all coming back so strongly.

“So, what are the plans for the day Little Miss Sunshine?” you sit up, reluctantly speaking your first words of the day after clearing your throat. 

“Well! First I thought we'd go get bagels for breakfast from down the street, and then I think one of us may need a quick shower before we officially start our day…” Emma says with a hand on the side of her mouth, pretending to be saying a secret as she is side-eyeing you, and you just stare at her offendedly, “Aaand we are doing something tonight so maybe we should go shopping..” she says quickly and excitedly, clearly brushing past what exactly it is that we are doing tonight.

“Alright then.” you say as you check your phone for probably the 20th time in the 10 minutes you've been awake. And you can see Emma staring at you from the corner of your eye so you decide to throw your phone to the other side of the bed, getting up and ready to go. You knew she wasn't oblivious, but you did not want to acknowledge the look she was giving you right now, and honestly it did not seem necessary to bring anything up.

Besides, this weekend isn't even about him. Dylan's surprise birthday party is tomorrow and your best friend was so excited to be planning it with your help. She hadn't done anything this extravagant for her boyfriend before and she wanted everything to be absolutely perfect.

Obviously the last thing you would want to do is ruin this weekend for her, and your stupid feelings and non-relationship are included in that.

-

The walk to the bagel shop seemed awkwardly long as you were both not acknowledging the fact that your mind is very very distracted. It wasn't intentional. But feelings and places have such strong connections and the fact that things felt so unresolved was not helping. Everywhere you are here reminds you of him.

“How's your bagel?” Emma speaks up, finally breaking the silence on your walk home, thankfully giving you an opportunity to get out of your thoughts.

“Oh it's good! Thanks! I was super hungry…” you say, trying to muster up a believable enough reason for why you've been so off today. 

You continue walking and shuffling your feet in silence and are about to return back to the house before Emma looks at you and sighs loudly.

So. Close. You are literally about to step onto the driveway of the house when she stops you. 

“Ok can we just talk about it please? Because there is no way we are going to get through this entire weekend just ignoring it.” she says, stepping in front of you and blocking any sort of way for you to get out of this conversation. 

“What are you talking about?” you say with a grumble and a sigh. Knowing she is going to get it out of you. Obviously she would.

“Luke.” Emma says deadpan, waiting for your response.

For some reason at this moment you wanted to cry just hearing his name. But you also wanted to yell. Your feelings were confusing and annoying and it upset you to even have to talk about it with someone, even though you knew you should.

“I don't know. I DON'T KNOW. I can't stop thinking about him, and everything is so confusing.” you whisper-yell at her in frustration. 

It pained you to admit that you couldn't get him off your mind. You didn't realise how much you even liked him until having to admit that.

“He visited me during christmas… I mean, he did in the fall, but this time felt different.” You continue,  “We slept together again. Everything felt like it was going so well…And now nothing.” you admit to her and wipe your face with your sleeves, angry at the tears that have fallen from your eyes. 

“Has he called?” She asks warily.

“Once? Last week. It was short… but he sounded sad. He said he misses me. And he told me he really wanted to visit me. And I've texted him since then and no response.” you look down at your feet as you speak. It really shouldn't be this embarrassing to admit. It's not like you were in a relationship with him anyway.

“He's going to be here...tomorrow? I didn't know if you knew..” Emma says as she grabs your arm and slowly brings you close to her as you begin walking inside together and you nod your head in her direction.

You knew he would be here. Dylan is one of his best friends, obviously he isnt going to miss his 21st birthday. But with how things were currently going, it honestly made you wonder if Luke would even want you here. And what do his friends even know about you two? Has Luke said anything? So many questions are going through your head that it is almost making you dizzy.

-

The rest of the day is so much lighter after your earlier conversation. Emma is exponentially good at cheering people up, and maybe even to a fault, will always be on your side no matter what. But you appreciated it regardless.

You are currently finishing up putting on your makeup and getting ready to go out tonight, still very unaware of what the plan even is. But you didn't have much of a choice in the matter as Emma has picked out every aspect of your outfit tonight - down to the shoes, makeup, and jewellery.

Suddenly Emma gets a call from Dylan and runs into her bathroom to answer the phone, the music cutting out that was playing from her phone as she heads off, and silence filling the room.

You weren't intending to be eavesdropping, but you are able to hear muffled voices from the other side of the door and very hushed arguing that you couldn't quite make out. Making you curious as to what could possibly be going on tonight.

Emma saunters back into the room with hesitancy, her expression is scared and concerned at the same time as she is approaching you almost in slow-motion, saying nothing.

“What is it? Just spit it out.” you say, already knowing you are either about to hear the worst news of all time or the worst news of all time.

“Ok surprise! We're going out for sushi! Yay!” Emma says, obviously starting with the good news and you stay silent.

“And…Luke is coming out with us.” she continues, flinching at her own words as she plops herself on the bed across from you. You sit at her desk, makeup in hand, and cannot help but have an absolutely astonished look on your face. 

Nothing is able to even leave your mouth as her words run through your mind again and again.

“I am so SO sorry.” She starts. “One of the guys accidentally told Dylan that Luke is in town and I didn’t want to ruin the surprise for tomorrow, so I told Dylan that Luke and I were trying to surprise him tonight for dinner. I didn't know what else to say. It was literally the first thing that came to my mind. I'm so sorry.” she continues, worried she has done irreparable damage on your friendship.

“You can kill me now.” Emma blurts out defeatedly, wanting to keep the surprise for tomorrow and not wanting all her efforts to be ruined the day before the party.

Obviously you love that girl, but very much did want to kill her in this moment.

“Does Luke know I'm going to be there?” you ask, brushing past everything else she has said.

“Dylan said he would tell him, yeah, but if you don't want to come please don't feel like you have to.” she says with a small smile, hoping you have some-what forgiven her.

“No, I'll still come.” you say quietly but matter-of-factly.

If Luke knew you were coming, it would be weird if you decided to stay home now because of it, and besides, what would you do here alone? Thinking of what he would be doing and wishing you could read his mind is all you can think of.

“OH? This is good! Ok! Dylan said he is picking us up in 20 minutes!” Emma states, suddenly very excitedly, hoping it will cheer you up to see that she is excited. And as you continue getting ready, nervous energy and anticipation fill your body.

- 

Dylan shows up right on time, unfortunately for you, not giving you any extra time to sit and wallow in your feelings.

It was inevitable that you would be seeing Luke this weekend, but this quickly and under these conditions was not exactly ideal. You were hoping to at least be able to have a one-on-one conversation with him before being thrown into random get togethers where things have no chance but to be awkward.

The drive to dinner is surprisingly happy. Dylan seems so excited to be seeing his best friend again. He can't stop talking about the last time they saw each other and how long it has been. And Emma's laughter and giddy energy is helping you calm down and distract you just a little bit.

“The reservation is for 7pm so we might have to wait in the car for a few minutes.” Emma says, checking her phone as Dylan pulls up to the restaurant a bit early. 

The dim lighting and intimate booths look extremely inviting as you peer inside the windows of the restaurant from the parking lot. You can't help but get distracted by watching people inside as Emma and Dylan talk from the front seats of the car and are cutely chatting to each other quietly.

“There's my boy!” Dylan yells out as he jumps out of the driver's seat, running up to give Luke a hug across the parking lot.

“Ready?” Emma looks back and asks you, reassuringly placing her hand on your knee and rubbing her thumb up and down a few times.

“Guess so…” you say with a fake smile as you grab your purse from beside you, and as you are about to leave the car, you see a tall figure standing right outside your door.

Only a little bit startled, you look up to see Luke as he opens your door for you and greets you with a tired smile. He is dressed nicely in black pants and a cream cable knit sweater, his hair curly and tousled up like always. 

As you step out of the car he brings you into a tight hug, like he just couldn't wait to hold you again.

“I missed you…” Luke whispers so quietly into your ear that you almost couldn't hear him. He swiftly leaves a gentle kiss to the side of your head as he brings his hands just a bit lower down your back, “I’m sorry” he says quietly as he releases you.

As much as you want to reciprocate, you are so caught off guard by his words that you just stare up at him without a word.

“Alright let's go! I'm so hungry!” Dylan says, unaware of the tension, as he pats Luke's back and wraps an arm around him, walking in front of you and Emma and into the restaurant. 

Emma is glancing at you as you walk together, waiting to hear from you what Luke said, but you decide to ignore it with a shrug and she looks away. 

-

Dinner is filled with laughter and catching up with one another. Surprisingly it wasn't even half as awkward as you built it up to be. Dylan chatting away with Luke as you and Emma giggle across from each other about all the drama at your respective schools. 

Having a couple of drinks throughout the night was definitely helping, but regardless of that, you felt good. Really good.

“Luke, how's the love life going for you? You got a girl in Jersey?” Dylan asks with a laugh as Emma had just bragged about her and Dylan going on 2 years of being together.

She shoots you a regretful look as she hits Dylan's side with her elbow, not as discreetly as she probably wanted to, and your face turns bright red.

Luke looks down at his lap and shakes his head with a chuckle, seemingly avoiding eye contact with you at all costs.

“No man, no girl in jersey.” Luke says lightly as he takes a drink of his beer before the two of you make eye contact and he glances down to your fidgety hands that are in your lap. 

“My bad, my bad…” Dylan says with a laugh as he clears his throat and starts back to finishing the food on his plate, Emma quietly shushing her clueless boyfriend beside her.

Your nervous hands continue to pick at your cuticles and you look over to see Luke inching his hand closer beside yours on the booth bench. Looking up from your lap, you see him glancing back at you as he waits for your reaction before discreetly taking your hand in his under the table.

The feeling of his hand in yours is so comforting and familiar and immediately eases your anxiousness. But you still feel so conflicted.

Luke always knew how to comfort you and distract you from your thoughts when they were out of control. Especially during busy school semesters and many nights spent together with him keeping you company while you anxiously wrote papers and prepped for exams. 

He seemed to be there for you when it felt like you had no one else. At least that's how it used to feel. Now things feel so complicated. Not knowing the status of your relationship surprisingly taking a much larger toll on your ability to act like friends than you would have ever thought.

“So! I've got the bill tonight guys. Happy birthday Dyl!” Emma blurts out as the waiter approaches the table, she leans over to give her boyfriend a loving kiss, comfortably filling the awkward silence that had just taken over the table not long before.

“Thank you baby! And hey! thanks guys for coming out tonight too.” Dylan smiles at the both of you as he lifts up his glass for a toast. You all clink your glasses, wishing him happy birthdays that follow big swigs of your almost empty alcoholic beverages.

Walking out of the restaurant, your mind fills with running thoughts. You wish you had spoken to Luke more tonight but it was hard to not make anything obvious. He seemed good, but still weirdly sad and you wanted to talk to him about it so badly. You wanted to talk to him about everything.

As you near Dylan's car you feel Luke's hand brush against yours and lightly hold your wrist, turning you around to face him.

“Can I take you home?” Luke shyly asks you as you all stand in the parking lot together. You mutter a “sure” under your breath with a nod, and he looks to Dylan and Emma for confirmation, both of them nodding in agreement before bringing you into tight hugs and saying goodbyes.

“Tell me everything that happens girly.” Emma runs back over to you and whispers into your ear as she hugs you goodbye once more, and all you can do is let out a small laugh in response to her teenage-esque behaviour.

-

After Dylan and Emma drive away, the short walk over to Luke’s car suddenly seems agonisingly long and your heart is racing in anticipation. Over anything else that happens tonight, you really wanted clarity. But of course, thoughts of the worst possible outcome ever sneak their way into your mind.

Luke opens the passenger side door for you and you climb into his car before he gently closes the door and walks to the other side. As he gets in, he begins to start the car before he looks over to you and pauses, the quiet becoming almost painful. 

You didn't know what to say, and you didn't want to say the wrong thing. So, waiting for him to break the silence seemed to be your best bet.

“I know I should have thought of something to say…” He starts, and shuffles in his seat, slightly bending his right leg so he is facing you a little more.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have stopped responding to you.” Luke continues, and you almost want to roll your eyes at his apology. It was so hard to be understanding when this felt like such a preventable situation on his part.

But you knew Luke. You knew when he was scared he got distant. You knew he was pulling back from you. You just didnt know why.

“Things have been so…weird…lately, and I just…I know I fucked up.” He confesses.

You didn't want to be reading between the lines anymore. You just wanted him to be honest with you about what he wants, and it frustrated you that he was being so vague.

“Luke, what do you want? Like, from me?” you ask innocently, but squint your eyes closed tightly as the words coming out of your mouth sound completely different from what you intended.

“Like, you told me we were friends. And obviously I was ok with that. But when you would visit me, we’d sleep together. And when you left it was like. I don't know…” you look down and pick at your fingers as you speak, looking up at him feeling like an almost impossible task.

“You told me you wanted to be friends.” Luke states, and gently grabs your hand. He holds it in his to stop you from destroying your fingers as you speak, which causes you to look up at him, thanking him silently, as he waits on your response.

“I said that because I knew how hard it would be for us to be so far away from each other.” you say strongly, feeling the sudden need to defend yourself.

“You know how important school is to me, and I know how important your career is to you. I don't want to distract you from what's important to you. I don't want to be the one that gets in the way of things, or be the reason why you're not as focused as you could be…as much as I want to be-” you begin to confess, but are quickly cut off.

“It's kinda too late for that…” Luke says with a chuckle as he tilts his head back against the headrest of his seat and looks out the front window, frustration still evidently seen on his face.

“What do you mean??” you ask, hoping he will elaborate a little more than he has been so far.

“You already distract me. I can't stop thinking about you. And it's obvious. In my game and everything too. Even Jack has noticed and he keeps asking me about you and I don't even know what to say. I can't shut him up. Cuz how am I supposed to tell him how I feel when I can't even tell you? Its actually really fuckin annoying.” he laughs as he explains, still looking ahead out the window instead of at you. 

Luke has always sought to use humour and jokes in difficult situations, especially when it comes to his own feelings. He's clearly frustrated at himself and it hurts you to see him having such a hard time expressing himself.

“So why have you been so distant lately?! I’ve been really worried about you.” you say, suddenly feeling more confident in confronting him as he opens up to you.

“Cuz im scared im gonna fuck things up even more than I already have…” he says honestly as he turns his head to look at you again.

“I knew I should've said something from the moment we slept together the first time. I feel like I fucked up by keeping my mouth shut. It's been ruining my life to not just be honest with you.” he adds with a growl deep in his voice, anger at himself seeping through his words.

As he continues, you can't help but feel entranced by him in his current state, and suddenly you are very aware of how late at night it is becoming. 

“It's my fault...” Luke says, and you desperately try to focus on his words and not his body. 

But you can't help but think about how good his hands would feel on your body and how badly you want him to kiss you right here and now. You didn't care that you were still in the parking lot of a sushi restaurant. You didn't care that things were still so confusing and that this probably wasn't exactly the most ideal time to be feeling this way. You just felt like you needed him so badly.

“I've been treating you like shit lately. Regardless of us sleeping together, that should not change how I treat you. I've been a shitty friend to you, and I'm really really sorry.” he continues, and you are brought out of your trance. 

His words hit you so hard. You both unknowingly made this relationship so complicated and weren't even aware of it. You knew Luke was not perfect, but for some reason you expected him to be able to read your mind, and vice versa. Even after being the one to say you should stay friends, you were silently upset that nothing was happening in the way you wanted.

“Luke, it's ok. Both of us have not been entirely honest with each other lately and it's made everything so… fucked up. We’re just… in a weird spot.” you say, hoping your words make any sense considering you zoned out for half of his apology.

“Can I just say that I want to be able to fix this?” Luke says as he places his hand on your thigh, his fingers mindlessly getting higher and higher as he rubs slowly back and forth. Trying his best to soothe you and unknowingly turning you on even more.

“It isn't just on you to fix.” you say as you place your hand softly over his, stopping his movement on your leg as to not let it overly distract you.

“Yes it is. I let you down. I fucked up by being so fucking…distant. I should've been more clear about what I want…that I want you..” Luke admits, giving into what he has wanted to say from the moment you got into the car together.

His eyes are fixed on yours and it makes your heart flutter in your chest. Hearing him so confidently confess how he is feeling after so long is such a relief. It makes you want to just tell him you love him right here and now.

“I know things are complicated…but, I really don't want to not have you in my life…” Luke adds as tears begin to well in his eyes, catching you both off guard.

“Oh Lukey.” you whisper as you hold his face in your hands, your heart melting at the sight of him. 

Luke places his hands on your wrists, pulling them away from his face as he finally leans into you. 

His lips hit yours with an intensity that you have never felt before from him. His hands move away from yours, and to the base of your neck, gently pulling you closer into him as he deepens the kiss. 

Your eyes are glued shut as you are entranced by his lips finally being connected with yours as his tongue dances around in your mouth. 

Needing to have your hands on him, you reach up to brush his face with your thumbs and then begin gently tugging at the curls at the nape of his neck, causing him to lustfully groan deep into your mouth. Your mind is filled with excitement and intensity as the moment grows in mutual desire.

“I needed you baby.” You say rushedly, disconnecting with him for only a moment.

Luke smiles against your lips as you connect again, and he places his left hand on your hip, massaging his fingers into your side. You lift yourself lightly onto the centre-console, desperate to be as close to him as you can get, and he lowers his hand just below your ass to help support you.

Although being in the close quarters of Luke's car while having such a monumental conversation about your relationship was not quite ideal, you were so thankful for it at this moment.

“I needed you too.” Luke says after coming up for air, and you just stare at him with a dizzy smile, your head reeling with arousal.

He pecks your lips a few times before lowering his head to your collarbone, gently kissing your neck and leaving red marks where he most definitely has before.

Your giggles fill the car as he continues expeditiously exploring your body, wanting to savour every moment of your presence and relishing in the way he is pleasing you.

Luke looks up at you with a smile before his eyebrows furrow and he is distracted by something behind you, causing you to whip your head around to look out your window, immensely alarmed at his expression. 

Luke lightly lets go of you, allowing you to sit properly in your seat and as your eyes focus on the window, the sight of a kind-looking restaurant hostess tapping on the glass outside of your door almost sends you reeling into a panic. 

Luke quickly reassures you with a laugh, placing his hand on your arm and starting the car before beginning to roll your window down for them to speak.

“I am so sorry if I startled you, but our restaurant has closed, which means we can no longer allow you to park here, as free parking ends at midnight.” the hostess explains politely while pointing to the sign posted on the brick wall just in front of Luke's car. 

“Thanks Ma’am. We’re so s-sorry.” Luke pauses to hide his face, clearly hiding that he is about to break into laughter.

“We’ll leave right aw-” Luke laughs out, hardly able to finish his sentence before being sent into a fit of silent laughter.

“We’re so sorry. Have a good night!” you say more seriously, trying to make up for the completely unserious boy beside you.

“Goodnight guys!” the hostess says as she walks away, leaving you completely embarrassed and also scared half to death.

Luke continues dying of laughter and is hunched over the steering wheel as you punch his arm repeatedly to get his attention.

“That was awful! Why are you laughing so hard!” you say unimpressed, but still unable to hold back laughter of your own after seeing him look up at you with tears in his eyes.

“Fuck. I can't get over your face.” Luke says as he begins to come down a little, wiping the tears from his eyes. You just shake your head and begin to buckle your seatbelt, not taking any chances of having to be asked to leave once more.

“Fuck.” he says once more with a sigh, relaxing in his seat and looking over to you with a genuine smile before patting your thigh reassuringly.

You look to Luke expectantly and he stares back at you with a smirk before kissing your lips passionately, catching you off guard. 

Your hands are drawn to his face as he nudges your chin with his, causing you to lean into him even further before he pulls away from you abruptly.

“Can I take you home?” Luke asks with lust in eyes as he brushes his thumb across your cheek, admiring every single feature on your face. His words having a different meaning to both of you than they have previously tonight.

“For real this time?? Because you know we cant sit in this parking lot any longer…” you say jokingly as Luke rolls his eyes at you and begins to put his seatbelt on.

“Yes, for real this time.” He retorts. His right hand eagerly finding yours as he interlocks your fingers with his, bringing your hand up to his lips to place a tender kiss before finally driving off.

-

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