#Just a guy with a cool name. That's it. They were just Some Guy

[scarletwinterxx]

breaking the ice - chwe vernon scenario

scrolled through tiktok too much now i'm simping over vernon🫠

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

The cold air inside the ice rink nipped at your skin as you pulled your coat tighter around yourself. You weren’t much of a sports fan, but when your cousin, Chan, practically begged you to come watch his game, you couldn’t say no.

"It's gonna be fun! Just come once, and if you hate it, I won't ask again," he had insisted over the phone.

And that's how you found yourself in the bleachers, watching a group of guys in bulky gear chase a puck across the ice. You weren’t clueless—you knew the basic rules—but you weren’t about to start screaming at referees like some of the other fans. You were here for one reason: Chan.

The game was intense, fast-paced, and honestly more interesting than you expected. You followed your cousin’s movements as he skated past an opponent and passed the puck to a teammate. The crowd roared when the puck was slapped straight into the goal.

You clapped, smiling as Chan pumped his fist in the air. That’s my cousin, you thought proudly.

Then, your eyes drifted to the player who had taken the shot. Number 16. He skated back toward Chan, giving him a nod of acknowledgment before the two joined the rest of the team.

You squinted.

The name on the back of his jersey read "Chwe"

You weren’t sure why, but something about him stood out. He wasn’t showy like some of the other players who thrived on the crowd’s attention. He barely reacted after scoring, just gave a small nod before skating off.

"Who’s number 16?" you asked the girl sitting beside you, who had been squealing nonstop.

She gawked at you. "You don’t know Chwe Vernon?!"

You blinked. "Should I?"

She looked at you like you had just committed a crime. "He's literally one of the best players on the team! And super famous! His family's Korean-American, and he's been playing since he was a kid. How do you not know him?"

You shrugged. "I don’t really follow hockey."

The girl sighed dramatically. "You’re missing out. He’s, like, effortlessly cool and insanely good."

You turned back to the rink, watching as Vernon—Chwe Vernon, apparently—glided across the ice. Effortlessly cool, huh? You weren’t convinced.

After the game, you waited for Chan outside the locker rooms. The hallway was filled with people—some reporters, some fans, all hoping to catch a glimpse of the players.

When the team finally emerged, Chan spotted you instantly. "Hey!" He grinned, walking over. His hair was damp from the shower, and he still had a towel draped around his neck. "So? Did I impress you?"

"You did great," you said, ruffling his hair, making him groan. "Proud cousin moment."

"Good. I need you to come to more games for good luck."

"Don't push it," you teased.

Before he could respond, someone else walked past you—number 16. Vernon.

Chan called out to him. "Hyung!"

Vernon turned his head slightly, slowing his pace. Up close, you noticed how sharp his features were. He had this laid-back, unreadable expression, like nothing ever surprised him.

Chan gestured toward you. "This is my cousin, the one I told you about."

You arched a brow. "You talked about me?"

Chan ignored you. "This is Vernon."

Vernon gave you a short nod. "Hey."

That was it. Just one word. No handshake, no smile.

You crossed your arms. "Wow, you’re a real talker, huh?"

Chan coughed, trying to stifle a laugh.

Vernon just blinked. "Not really."

You stared at him, waiting for him to say more. He didn't. This guy was something else.

"Well, okay" you said your name, breaking the silence. "Since we’re introducing ourselves and all."

He nodded again. "Cool."

You squinted at him. "Do you always talk in one-word sentences?"

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering your question. "Depends."

You exhaled sharply, turning to Chan. "I’m leaving. This guy’s impossible."

Chan laughed. "That’s just how he is."

You gave Vernon one last glance. He wasn’t unfriendly, just... different. Quiet. Detached.

And yet, something about him made you curious.

A few days later, Chan texted you.

Chan: Come to our next game. You: Why? Chan: Because I bet Vernon you wouldn’t come. You: …You bet on me? Chan: Yeah. He said you wouldn’t bother. I said you would. You: What do I get if I show up? Chan: The satisfaction of proving Vernon wrong. You: Tempting. Chan: Also, if I win, Vernon has to buy me dinner. So do it for me.

You sighed, staring at the text. You weren’t the type to back down from a challenge. Contemplating for only a few moments before shooting Chan one last message saying you'd go.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d get a reaction out of Vernon this time.

The next game rolled around quicker than expected. You hadn’t initially planned to attend, but the thought of proving Vernon wrong was too tempting.

So there you were, sitting in the bleachers again, this time with a smirk on your face as you spotted number 16 skating onto the ice.

Chan was the first to notice you. From where he stood, he shot you a triumphant grin, raising his fist in victory. You lifted your hand in a mock salute, acknowledging the win.

Vernon, on the other hand, took a bit longer to spot you. When he did, you could swear there was a brief flicker of surprise in his usually impassive expression. His eyes met yours for a split second before he coolly looked away. No reaction, no acknowledgment—just Vernon being Vernon.

Oh, so that’s how he wanted to play it? Fine.

The game started, and as expected, it was intense. You found yourself getting more invested than last time, especially when Chan assisted in another goal. But what caught your attention the most was Vernon. He was ridiculously fast on the ice, his movements so fluid and effortless that it was almost unfair to the opposing team.

By the time the final buzzer rang, their team had won. The crowd erupted into cheers, and even you found yourself clapping.

Chan was practically bouncing when he ran over to you after the game. “Ha! Told you! I knew you’d come.”

You smirked. “Enjoy your free dinner.”

Before Chan could respond, Vernon walked up behind him. His damp hair clung slightly to his forehead, and he looked as composed as ever despite just finishing a game.

“You actually showed up,” he said, voice neutral.

“I did.” You crossed your arms. “Surprised?”

He shrugged. “A little.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Not gonna admit you were wrong?”

He blinked, considering. “Nope.”

Chan burst out laughing. “He’d rather die than say that.”

You turned back to Vernon. “Well, I did come. So now you owe Chan dinner. Hope you have deep pockets.”

Vernon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I do.”

You weren’t sure why, but the idea of Vernon being slightly inconvenienced by this bet made you a little too satisfied.

Chan clapped a hand on Vernon’s shoulder. “Since I’m getting a free meal, you should come too.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Me?”

Chan nodded. “Yeah, you’re the reason I won the bet. Might as well let you enjoy the victory too.”

You glanced at Vernon, half-expecting him to protest, but he just nodded. “Up to you.”

You weren’t sure if he genuinely didn’t care or if he was just going along with it because Chan said so. Either way, you weren’t about to back down.

“Fine,” you said. “Let’s go.”

You ended up at a small Korean barbecue place not too far from the rink. It wasn’t fancy, but it smelled amazing. Vernon, true to his word, paid without complaint, though you noticed he didn’t exactly look thrilled about it. You didn’t feel bad in the slightest.

As the food started cooking, Chan filled the silence with his usual chatter. You had always liked how easygoing he was, able to carry conversations without effort.

“So,” Chan said, turning to Vernon. “What do you think of my cousin?”

You nearly choked on your drink. “What kind of question is that?”

Chan grinned mischievously. “I just wanna know. Vernon’s not really a people person, so I’m curious.”

You turned your gaze to Vernon, expecting some deadpan answer like “She’s fine” or “She exists.”

Instead, he looked directly at you and said, “She’s different.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”

He tilted his head slightly, considering his words. “Most people try too hard. You don’t.”

You blinked. That was… surprisingly insightful.

Chan nodded approvingly. “That’s a compliment, by the way. Vernon doesn’t say much, but when he does, he means it.”

You studied Vernon for a moment. He was still as unreadable as ever, but now you were intrigued. “Well, thanks, I guess.”

Dinner continued with casual conversation, mostly dominated by Chan. Vernon remained quiet but occasionally chimed in with a dry comment that made you laugh more than expected.

By the end of the night, you realized something strange.

You didn’t dislike him.

In fact, you kind of wanted to see what it would take to get a real reaction out of him.

A week later, you got an unexpected text from Chan.

Chan: You’re not gonna believe this. You: What? Chan: Vernon just asked if you were coming to the next game. You: …You’re lying. Chan: I’m dead serious. He just asked me out of nowhere.

You stared at your phone, processing.

Vernon? Asking about you?

Interesting.

You: Tell him to ask me himself. Chan: LMAO you’re evil.

A few minutes later, another text came in.

Unknown Number: Are you coming? - Vernon

You smirked. So he finally cracked.

This was going to be fun.

Sitting at your desk, you stretched your arms, feeling the exhaustion settle into your bones. The clock on your laptop read 11:47 PM, and you still weren’t done with the reports your supervisor had asked for last minute.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. You hadn’t expected your internship to be this demanding, but then again, you had never been the type to slack off. If you were going to do something, you were going to do it well.

Your phone buzzed beside you.

Vernon: Heard you were busy.

You blinked. Of all people, he was texting you? You smirked, quickly typing back.

You: Look at you, sending full sentences. I’m impressed.

A few seconds passed before the typing bubble appeared.

Vernon: I can type. You: Could’ve fooled me.

You leaned back in your chair, biting your lip. Was it bad that you found this amusing?

You weren’t expecting another text, but then—

Vernon: …You gonna come next time?

Your eyebrows raised slightly. So he did notice you weren’t there.

You debated your response, then decided to push his buttons a little.

You: Why? Did you miss me?

This time, the reply didn’t come immediately. You wondered if you had caught him off guard.

Finally, after a minute—

Vernon: Maybe.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

You: …Huh. Didn’t expect that. Vernon: Yeah. Me neither.

That made you pause.

You had been joking before, but now… was he actually admitting something?

You stared at your screen for a moment before shaking your head. No way. This is Vernon. He doesn’t just say things like that.

You decided to test the waters.

You: Careful, Chwe. Almost sounded like you like having me around.

This time, his reply came quicker.

Vernon: Don’t get ahead of yourself. You: Good night, hockey boy. Vernon: Night.

Setting your phone down, you exhaled. That was unexpected.

And oddly… kind of nice.

A few days passed, and you found yourself back to your usual routine—internship, assignments, barely enough time to breathe.

You hadn’t planned on going to the next hockey game either, but then Chan called. "Please," he whined over the phone. "Vernon’s been weird since you didn’t come last time."

You frowned. "Weird how?"

"I don’t know! Just… quiet."

You snorted. "Vernon’s always quiet."

"Yeah, but this time it’s different. Like he’s thinking about something."

That made you pause.

"Are you telling me you think Vernon missed me?" you teased.

Chan groaned. "I’m saying something’s up with him, and I think you should come see for yourself."

You hesitated. You really didn’t have the time, but… now you were curious.

"Fine," you said, "but if I show up and he acts the same, you owe me coffee."

Chan laughed. "Deal."

When you stepped into the ice rink the following evening, the familiar chill made you shiver. You spotted the team warming up, Chan already waving at you from the ice.

Your eyes flickered to Vernon.

He was stretching near the goal, looking as calm and composed as ever. But when he turned his head and spotted you in the stands, something shifted in his expression. It wasn’t dramatic—just a small pause, a barely-there flicker of acknowledgment.

Then, as if nothing happened, he looked away.

You smirked.

Yeah. He definitely noticed.

As the game started, you found yourself watching him more closely. He was fast, efficient, never wasted movement. But every now and then, when there was a break in play, you swore he glanced in your direction.

By the time the game ended, you were already preparing a sarcastic remark for when you saw him.

Chan met you outside the locker room first. "Told you he was acting weird."

You shrugged. "He looks the same to me."

"Trust me," Chan said, "for Vernon, that was basically a full-blown confession."

Before you could respond, Vernon appeared in the hallway. His damp hair fell over his forehead, his usual quiet presence making him seem effortlessly cool.

"You’re here," he said, stopping in front of you.

You crossed your arms. "You sound surprised."

He met your gaze. "A little."

You tilted your head. "Miss me?"

Vernon exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "You always ask that."

"And you never give me an answer."

He paused, then—

"Maybe."

You blinked. Well that was new. Before you could say anything, he walked past you, heading toward the exit. But as he did, he spoke just loud enough for you to hear

"See you next game."

You stared after him, lips slowly curling into a smile.

Another game day.

The rink buzzed with energy as another game night rolled in. The usual excitement from the crowd filled the air, fans from both teams eager to see their favorites go head-to-head.

Vernon adjusted his helmet as he skated onto the ice, his mind focused—until Chan nudged him.

“Look,” Chan said, nodding toward the stands.

Vernon followed his gaze, and there you were.

His brow furrowed slightly. He wasn’t expecting you. Usually, you’d give Chan a heads-up if you were coming.

“Guess she had time after all,” Chan muttered, but there was something in his tone—something suspicious.

Before Vernon could ask, his eyes flickered to the opposing team warming up. That’s when he saw it. You weren’t just watching the game. You were standing near the barrier, laughing. With him.

Lee Seokmin.

Forward for the rival team. Loud, energetic, and way too familiar with you.

Vernon’s grip on his stick tightened slightly as he watched Seokmin grin at you, leaning against the boards like this was some casual meet-up and not a competitive match.

Chan turned to Vernon, eyes wide. “Did I miss something, or do they know each other?”

“I don’t know,” Vernon said flatly, but now he really wanted to.

After warm-ups, the team headed back to the locker room. Vernon kept quiet, but Chan wasn’t letting this go.

“Okay, seriously,” he said, shoving his helmet into his bag. “What is going on? Why is my cousin talking to Seokmin?”

Joshua, another teammate, overheard and raised an eyebrow. “Wait, your cousin? She knows Seokmin?”

“I don’t know!” Chan said, exasperated. “She didn’t tell me anything.”

Vernon untied his skates, processing. He wasn’t sure why this bugged him, but it did. You weren’t the type to be friendly just for the sake of it—so if you were joking around with Seokmin, there had to be history there.

And for some reason, that annoyed him.

After the game, which ended in a close win for Vernon’s team, you were waiting outside the locker room.

Chan wasted no time. “Alright,” he said, crossing his arms. “Explain.”

You blinked. “Explain what?”

He gestured toward the rink. “Why were you laughing it up with Seokmin before the game?”

You gave him a look. “Because we’re friends?”

Chan’s eyes narrowed. “Since when?”

You sighed, already predicting this reaction. “We used to date. A long time ago. Now we’re just friends.”

Chan’s jaw dropped. Vernon, standing next to him, simply blinked.

“…You dated him?” Chan asked, as if the words didn’t make sense together.

“For, like, five months. It wasn’t that serious.”

Vernon finally spoke. “Why’d you break up?”

You turned to him, surprised he even asked. “We were better off as friends.”

Vernon’s expression didn’t change, but he held your gaze for a beat longer than usual.

Chan, still recovering, groaned. “I feel betrayed.”

You laughed. “Relax, it’s not that deep.”

Seokmin’s voice interrupted. “Are we talking about me?”

You turned to see Seokmin approaching, still in his team jacket, his ever-present grin in place.

Chan groaned louder. “Oh my god.”

Seokmin laughed, nudging you. “Did you tell them how you used to cheer for my team?”

You smirked. “I left that part out.”

Chan looked like he was about to collapse. “This is so much worse than I thought.”

Vernon, still quiet, glanced between you and Seokmin before saying, “So you’re just friends now?”

You nodded. “Yeah”

He doesn't say anything after that but you could tell there was definitely a reason. And you weren’t going to let it go unnoticed. Meanwhile, Chan was still staring at you like you had just confessed to some deep, dark secret.

“Wait, wait, wait.” He held up a hand. “You mean to tell me that all this time, you and Seokmin—”

“Dated?” Seokmin finished helpfully, grinning. “Yeah, man. Keep up.”

Chan dramatically pressed a hand to his forehead. “How did I not know this? How did no one tell me?”

You shrugged. “We broke up before you even joined the team, and it wasn’t that serious. Plus, you were busy with your own stuff.”

Chan looked genuinely offended. “I feel like I should have felt it or something. Like a disturbance in the Force.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, Jedi.”

Meanwhile, Vernon was watching the entire conversation with his usual unreadable expression, but something about his posture was different. He was listening.

Seokmin clapped a hand on Chan’s shoulder. “It’s okay, buddy. You’re just slow.”

Chan smacked his hand away. “I’m not slow, I just—ugh! This is so weird!”

You smirked. “Why? Because you hate the idea of me dating anyone or because it’s Seokmin?”

“…Both.” Chan groaned. “This is, like, finding out your best friend and your worst enemy were secretly besties behind your back.”

Seokmin gasped. “Worst enemy? I thought we were friends!”

“You’re my rival, not my friend,” Chan shot back.

Seokmin patted his shoulder. “Rival is just another word for friend who won’t admit it.”

You stifled a laugh as Chan let out another dramatic groan. But while Chan was too busy overreacting, Vernon was still quiet.

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “You good, hockey boy?”

His eyes flickered to yours, and for a second, he hesitated. Then, in his usual calm voice, he said, “Just surprised. That’s all.”

Seokmin grinned. “Vernon, don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

Vernon blinked at him. “Why would I be?”

Seokmin shrugged. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

For a fraction of a second, you swore you saw a flicker of something in Vernon’s expression. Annoyance? Amusement? Something in between?

But, as always, he kept it cool. “Not jealous.”

“Sure,” Seokmin said, clearly not convinced.

You smirked, deciding to push Vernon a little. “I was a great girlfriend.”

Vernon’s eyes flicked to yours again, this time holding your gaze.

“Yeah?” he asked, voice unreadable.

You tilted your head. “Yeah.”

A slow, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Seokmin looked between the two of you and let out a low whistle. “Huh. Interesting.”

Chan narrowed his eyes. “Don’t say it.”

Seokmin grinned. “I think your cousin has a new favorite hockey player.”

Chan groaned for the fourth time. “I hate everything about tonight.”

You just laughed. But the thing was—Seokmin might not have been entirely wrong.

The night air was crisp as you stepped into the parking lot with Chan and Vernon. The game had ended, and while the rivalry on the ice had been intense, the real battle had been you versus Chan’s endless questions about Seokmin.

Vernon had offered to drive both of you home, claiming it was “on the way,” but you were starting to suspect he just wanted to witness the soap opera unfolding in real time.

Chan, still in full interrogation mode, walked beside you. “Okay, but seriously—how did it even start?”

You sighed, exasperated. “I already told you, Chan. We dated, we broke up, we’re friends now. That’s it.”

Chan scoffed. “That’s not it! I need details. Like, who made the first move?”

Seokmin’s grinning face flashed in your mind. “He did.”

Chan gasped dramatically. “Seokmin made the first move?! What did he do, trip over his own skates and land in your lap?”

You laughed. “No, idiot. He was actually really sweet.”

Vernon unlocked the car and got in without a word, letting Chan get it all out of his system before the drive even started.

As soon as you all settled inside, Chan still wasn’t done.

“So let me get this straight,” he continued from the passenger seat, twisting around to face you. “You, my very strong, very independent cousin, voluntarily dated a hockey player?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Chan. I, a normal human being, dated another normal human being. Groundbreaking.”

Chan shook his head, like this was the biggest scandal of the century. “You always said you’d never date an athlete.”

“Right,” you deadpanned. “Which is why I’m never dating a hockey player again.”

Vernon, silent up until now, suddenly coughed beside Chan. Both you and Chan turned to him.

Vernon kept his eyes on the road, shifting gears like nothing happened.

Chan squinted. “You good?”

Vernon nodded, completely unfazed. “Yeah. Just dry air.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Uh-huh.”

Chan threw his hands up. “Okay, now I really need to know what went down.”

You sighed dramatically. “Do you really want to hear about my tragic love story, or do you want Vernon to get us home in one piece?”

Chan hesitated before reluctantly turning back around. “Fine. But this conversation isn’t over.”

From the driver’s seat, Vernon finally spoke again—his voice smooth, unreadable.

“Yeah,” he murmured, eyes still on the road. “I bet it isn’t.”

Something about the way he said it made you glance at him again. Maybe it was just your imagination. Or maybe, just maybe, Vernon was thinking about how you might not keep that promise after all.

The hum of the engine filled the car as Vernon smoothly maneuvered through the late-night traffic. The city lights blurred past, casting fleeting shadows across his face. You sat in the backseat, arms crossed, while Chan sat in the passenger seat, still digesting your revelation about Seokmin.

"Okay," Chan started again, shifting to look at you, "so you’re telling me you went from hating the idea of dating an athlete to actually dating one?"

You groaned. "Chan—"

"No, no," he interrupted, waving his hands. "I just need to understand the timeline. When did this betrayal happen?"

Vernon let out a short breath, which you swore sounded like a laugh, though his face remained unreadable.

"You make it sound like I committed a crime," you said, rolling your eyes. "It was, like, a year and a half ago."

Chan gasped. "A year and a half ago?! That recently? And I’m just finding out now?"

"Look, it wasn’t a big deal," you said. "We went on a few dates, had fun, realized we were better as friends, and that was that."

Vernon, still focused on the road, finally spoke. "You broke up with him?"

You glanced at him through the rearview mirror. His voice was as calm as ever, but something about the way he asked made you curious.

"Technically, yeah," you admitted.

Chan groaned again. "Of course you broke up with him. You probably made him think it was his idea, too." Seokmin had been a little blindsided, but you weren’t about to admit that.

"You say that like it’s a bad thing," you said, smirking.

Chan turned back to Vernon. "See? This is why I tell people not to mess with my cousin. She’s too powerful."

Vernon finally looked at you through the mirror, his gaze unreadable. "Yeah," he murmured, "I can see that."

Something about the way he said it made your stomach flip.

Chan, oblivious, continued his rant. "But seriously, what did he do that made you swear off hockey players forever? Did he forget your anniversary? Get too competitive?"

You shrugged. "Nah. I just don’t want to deal with the whole team rivalries, constant traveling, always being second to the sport thing. Hockey players are a lot of work."

Vernon coughed again.

Chan turned to him, frowning. "Dude, do you need water?"

Vernon cleared his throat. "I’m fine."

You smirked. "Are you sure? You seem… distracted."

Vernon glanced at you briefly before returning his focus to the road. "Just listening."

"Hmm." You leaned back. "Well, anyway, I learned my lesson. I’m sticking to normal people now."

Chan snorted. "Normal people?"

"Yeah. You know—guys with normal schedules, normal jobs, no risk of getting concussed every other week."

Vernon’s hands flexed on the steering wheel.

Chan laughed. "I give it two months before you go back on that."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And why is that?"

"Because," Chan said, smirking, "you like the chaos too much. Admit it, you love being involved in hockey drama. You thrive on it."

You gasped, pretending to be offended. "Excuse me! I am very peaceful."

Vernon finally spoke again, his tone deadpan. "Sure."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Are you siding with Chan?"

"I mean," Vernon said, shrugging, "you are sitting in a hockey player’s car, after attending a hockey game, while arguing about hockey."

Chan burst out laughing. "Oh my god, he’s got a point."

You huffed. "Okay, fine. Maybe I tolerate the chaos. But that doesn’t mean I’ll date another hockey player."

Vernon didn’t say anything but when you glanced at him through the mirror again, he had the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips.

Like he knew something you didn’t.

The rest of the ride was quieter. Chan was scrolling through his phone, occasionally making dramatic sighs about his “betrayal,” while Vernon drove smoothly through the streets.

At one point, you rested your chin on your hand, watching the buildings blur past. Despite the chaos of the evening, there was something… nice about being in Vernon’s car. He was steady, dependable. Even with Chan’s endless commentary, he never seemed irritated. Just patient.

When Vernon finally pulled up to Chan’s place, your cousin unbuckled his seatbelt and sighed dramatically. "Alright, I guess I’ll forgive you. For now."

You smirked. "Gee, thanks."

Chan opened the door but paused, glancing between you and Vernon. Then, with a knowing smirk, he said, "You two have fun."

Before you could question him, he hopped out and disappeared inside.

You scoffed. "What was that about?"

Vernon hummed. "Not sure."

But he definitely looked like he knew. with Chan gone, the car suddenly felt… quieter.

Vernon shifted slightly, one hand resting on the gear shift. "Where to?"

You blinked. "Huh?"

"Your place," he said simply. "Where is it?"

"Oh." You gave him the directions, and he nodded, smoothly pulling back onto the road. For a few minutes, neither of you spoke. It wasn’t awkward, though. Just… different.

"So," Vernon finally said, glancing at you through the mirror, "never dating a hockey player again?"

You smirked. "That’s the plan."

"Hmm." He didn’t sound convinced.

You tilted your head. "Why? You don’t think I can do it?"

Vernon let out a small breath—almost a chuckle. "I just think… you might change your mind."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what makes you say that?"

He slowed to a stop at a red light, then turned his head slightly, meeting your eyes.

"Just a feeling," he said simply.

You held his gaze, searching for something—anything—in his expression. But, as always, Vernon was unreadable. Calm. Completely in control.

Yet, for some reason, your heart did a weird little flip.

You scoffed, looking away. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but I’m done with hockey boys."

Vernon tapped his fingers against the wheel. "Mm."

The light turned green, and he pulled forward. And though he didn’t say anything else, the ghost of a smirk lingered on his lips.

When he finally pulled up in front of your building, he put the car in park but didn’t move to unlock the doors yet. Instead, he rested his wrist on the steering wheel and turned his head slightly toward you.

"You sure about that?"

You blinked. "Huh?"

He kept his gaze on you, calm and unreadable. "About being done with hockey players."

You scoffed. "Yeah, I’m sure."

Vernon hummed, like he wasn’t convinced.

Your eyes narrowed. "Why? You think I’m lying?"

He shrugged, like it didn’t matter. "I think people say things they don’t mean all the time."

You frowned. "Well, I do mean it."

Vernon tilted his head, studying you like you were some kind of puzzle he was trying to solve. Then, after a moment, he said, "Wanna bet?"

Your brows shot up. "Excuse me?"

He leaned back, resting his arm on the car door. "Bet me that you won’t date another hockey player."

You let out an incredulous laugh. "What are we, twelve?"

Vernon just raised an eyebrow, waiting.

You rolled your eyes. "Fine. What’s at stake?"

His lips curled slightly—barely noticeable, but there. "Winner gets whatever they want."

You raised a skeptical brow. "Like… money?"

Vernon shook his head. "Nope."

"Then what?"

He exhaled through his nose, thinking for a second before saying, "Bragging rights."

"That’s it?"

"That’s it," Vernon confirmed.

You squinted at him. "You’re really so confident that I’ll cave and date another hockey player?"

Vernon didn’t even hesitate. "Yeah."

Something about his unwavering confidence made you cross your arms. "Okay, fine. It’s a bet. I will never date another hockey player again."

Vernon nodded. "Cool." Then, finally, he reached over and unlocked the doors.

You narrowed your eyes. "Wait. What happens if I win?"

His lips twitched slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Then you get to rub it in my face."

You smirked. "Oh, I will."

Vernon just shrugged, like he wasn’t worried in the slightest.

That irritated you even more.

"Goodnight, hockey boy," you said, reaching for the door handle.

Vernon’s response was so quiet you almost didn’t catch it. "Goodnight," he murmured. Then, as you stepped out, he added, "See you around."

Something about the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine.

Like he already knew how this was going to end.

Like he was just waiting.

The bet was stupid.

You knew it was stupid the second you agreed to it, and yet… it bothered you. Not because you thought you’d lose—because you wouldn’t. There was no way you’d fall for another hockey player.

No, what bothered you was Vernon’s confidence. The way he’d looked at you, calm and collected, like he already knew how this would play out. Like he wasn’t guessing, but rather waiting.

And that? That was infuriating.

So you did the only logical thing.

You ignored it.

For an entire week, you threw yourself into work, into your internship, into anything that would keep you too busy to think about Vernon or his stupid, smug little bet.

And it worked. Kind of.

When you arrived at the rink, you told yourself you were not looking for him.

You weren’t scanning the ice, weren’t checking the players warming up, weren’t—

Oh.

There he was.

Vernon stood near the bench, adjusting his gloves, looking annoyingly good in his gear. He wasn’t flashy like some of the other guys, but he had this effortless kind of presence—calm, confident, and completely unbothered.

Which only made you more bothered.

You turned back to Chan. "I hate you for bringing me here."

Chan grinned. "Love you too, cousin."

A whistle blew, signaling the players to line up, and as Vernon skated past, he glanced toward the stands. His eyes found yours immediately.

And then—he smirked. Like he knew you’d be here.

Your stomach flipped, and you immediately turned to Chan. "I take it back. I really hate you."

Chan just laughed. "No, you don’t."

The game started, and you did your best to focus. But it was hard when you were hyper-aware of one player in particular and every time you told yourself you were imagining things, that Vernon wasn’t paying any special attention to you.

He’d prove you wrong.

A glance before a faceoff. A lingering look after a goal. A subtle smirk every time he skated near your side of the rink.

And the worst part?

You knew he was doing it on purpose.

By the time the game ended, you were fully prepared to never attend another one again.

You tried to ignore Vernon.

You really did.

But ignoring Vernon was impossible when he wasn’t ignoring you.

Every game you attended, he’d look for you. Every time he saw you, there was a smirk, a glance, a knowing look that said I’m still winning.

And the worst part?

You caught yourself looking for him too.

It was small things at first—wondering if he’d be at the team hangouts, noticing when he was not at practice, catching yourself staring a second too long during games.

You were slipping.

And you hated it.

You were officially avoiding Vernon.

It wasn’t obvious avoidance. You weren’t hiding behind corners or diving into bushes when you saw him. No, you were subtle.

You stopped showing up to games as often. You made excuses whenever Chan invited you to team hangouts. You even started leaving early when you knew Vernon might be around.

And for a while, it worked.

Until it didn’t.

Because Vernon wasn’t stupid.

And unfortunately for you, he was patient.

He wasn’t mad you were avoiding him. He wasn’t giving up.

He was just waiting. Waiting for you to stop fighting yourself. Waiting for you to let yourself have something good. And somehow that was worse because you could handle anger.

But patience?

Patience made you want to give in.

It happened at a café. You were minding your own business, fully immersed in your laptop, when suddenly a chair scraped against the floor in front of you.

You looked up and there he was.

Vernon.

Sitting across from you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You blinked. "What—"

"You’re avoiding me," he said.

You scoffed. "No, I’m not."

"You are."

"I’m busy."

Vernon nodded. "Sure."

You clenched your jaw. "I am."

Vernon took a sip of his coffee, completely unbothered. "You were at every game before. Then, suddenly, you’re not. Feels personal."

"It’s not," you lied.

"Right."

You exhaled sharply, tapping your fingers against the table. "Is this why you sat here? To call me out?"

"Partly," Vernon admitted.

"And the other part?"

He tilted his head. "I missed you."

Your brain short-circuited. "Excuse me?"

Vernon shrugged. "It was more fun when you were around."

You stared at him. "Are you messing with me?"

"Nope."

"Vernon."

"Hm?"

"You’re being weird."

He smirked. "Or maybe you just don’t know how to deal with me being serious."

Your stomach flipped. Okay. This was dangerous territory. He was right and your brain can't process the situation, you're so used to his one word remarks and nonchalance. But this feels like something your heart isn't prepared for.

You forced a laugh. "Nice try, but I’m not falling for it."

Vernon leaned back, watching you closely. "You sure?"

You clenched your jaw. "Yes."

"Okay," he said easily.

After a while he did leave you alone, even though he wanted to stay and banter with you some more because these days it seems that his main source of entertainment is to get under your skin. Coach called for a meeting. After a quick goodbye you find yourself alone again.

Later that day though, Chan came to your apartment. The moment you saw Chan, you regretted telling him anything.

Because instead of sympathy, he just grinned.

"You’re doomed."

You glared at him. "I am not."

"Vernon likes you."

You crossed your arms. "He does not."

"Okay, and you like him."

"Chan."

"You’re in denial."

You groaned. "Can you be normal for once?"

Chan ignored you. "You realize Vernon is going to win, right?"

"He isn’t."

"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that."

You threw a pillow at him.

It happened at the worst possible time. You were at another game (against your better judgment), sitting next to Chan, when the unthinkable happened... Vernon scored.

And you.... you cheered. Loudly. Enthusiastically.

And worst of all?

Vernon heard.

He turned immediately, locking eyes with you from across the rink.

Vernon, still looking at you, winked.

You were still recovering from what happened during the game. The team had won, meaning the energy in the rink was electric. Fans cheered, players celebrated, and you?

You were debating leaving immediately before Vernon found you. But before you could execute your escape Chan grabbed your arm. "Oh no. You’re not running away."

You scowled. "I’m not running. I just have things to do."

"Like avoiding Vernon?"

"Exactly."

Chan shook his head, dragging you toward the locker rooms. "Nope. You’re gonna face your feelings like an adult."

"I am an adult. And my adult decision is denial."

"That’s not how it works."

"It’s worked for me so far."

Chan ignored you, you hear the pushing open of the locker room door before Chan screams "Hey, Vernon! Your biggest fan is here."

You smacked Chan’s arm. "I hate you."

"Hey."

Vernon.

Standing right there, fresh out of the shower, towel around his neck, still slightly damp from the game and he's looking directly at you.

Chan grinned. "I’ll leave you two alone."

You turned sharply. "You traitor—"

But he was already gone. You were going to kill him. You thought but first you had to deal with Vernon.

"Good game."

Vernon smirked. "I could tell. You were very excited when I scored."

You rolled your eyes. "It was an automatic reaction."

"Right."

"It’s called sportsmanship."

"Uh-huh."

You exhaled sharply. "You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?"

"A little," he admitted.

You crossed your arms. "If you’re expecting me to confess I like you, it’s not happening."

Vernon hummed. "You just did, though."

Your jaw dropped. "I did not."

"You said, ‘if you’re expecting me to confess I like you,’ which implies there’s something to confess."

You blinked. "I hate you."

Vernon grinned. "No, you don’t."

You clenched your fists. "This is a nightmare."

Vernon tilted his head. "So… when are you taking me on a date?"

You nearly choked. "Excuse me?"

"You lost the bet, right?"

"I did not lose the bet!"

You were completely and utterly screwed.

You should have known he wouldn’t let you get away with avoiding him because, a few days later, he showed up outside the building where you were doing your internship. You nearly dropped your bag when you spotted him standing near the entrance.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you hissed, marching up to him.

Vernon looked amused. "Visiting."

"Visiting who?"

"You."

You stared at him. "Why?"

Vernon shoved his hands in his pockets, looking far too casual. "Because you’re avoiding me."

"I am not avoiding you."

"You are."

You groaned. "Why do you do this?"

Vernon tilted his head. "Because it’s fun."

"For who?"

He smirked. "Me." You were going to lose your mind. You were seriously debating throwing your very heavy tote bag at him and his smug face.

Vernon glanced past you into the building. "So, this is where you spend all your time now?"

"Yes," you said firmly. "Because I’m busy."

Vernon nodded. "So busy you don’t have time for a date?"

Your brain short-circuited.

"What?"

Vernon shrugged. "A date. With me."

You blinked at him. "You’re joking."

"I’m not."

You stared. "You do remember the bet, right?"

"Yep."

"And that I refuse to date another hockey player?"

Vernon nodded. "Still waiting on that to work out for you."

You exhaled sharply. "I’m not dating you."

"Yet," Vernon added.

"Ever."

"We’ll see."

"STOP SAYING THAT" you all but scream at him, the way he's looking at you right now is making you want to pull all your hair out.

Vernon smirked, taking a step closer. "Admit it. You like me."

You scowled. "I will never admit that."

Vernon hummed. "Okay."

Too calm.

Too smug.

You knew he didn’t believe you and somehow, that was infinitely worse. You had spent days trying to push down the realization that you might actually—God forbid—like Vernon. And somehow, in those same days, he got worse.

Not in an annoying way.

No.

Vernon had started being… sweet. Not the obvious kind. Not the cheesy, over-the-top, grand gestures kind. But Vernon’s kind.

Small things.

Subtle things.

Things that made you notice how well he knew you. Like how he always made sure you had a seat at the games, whether you said you were coming or not. Or how he started bringing you coffee without asking, without a word just sliding it in front of you at the rink like it was normal.

Or how, when you stayed late at your internship, your phone would buzz with a single text:

Vernon: Don’t walk home alone. I’ll pick you up.

(And when you argued, he’d just show up anyway.)

It was infuriating.

Because it was working.

And somehow, you were losing the bet in real time.

It happened after a late game.

You weren’t supposed to go. You had convinced yourself you wouldn’t go and yet you find yourself sitting at the bleachers again waiting for the game to finish.

You blamed Chan. (And also yourself.)

You stayed after, waiting for Chan, when suddenly a hoodie dropped over your head. You startled, pulling it off. "What the—"

You turned and Vernon was there. He looked at you, completely unaffected. "It’s cold."

You blinked. "I—what—"

"Just wear it."

You hesitated, staring down at it.

It was his hoodie.

Still warm. Still smelling like him.

And for some reason you put it on. You didn't put up a fight, didn't say another snarky remark. You just put it on. Vernon nodded, satisfied, then leaned against the wall next to you.

Neither of you spoke. For the first time, it wasn’t teasing, wasn’t banter.

It was just—quiet.

"You know," Vernon said suddenly, "I like you."

Your breath caught.

You turned to him. "What?"

Vernon exhaled, tilting his head to look at you. "I like you."

Just like that. No hesitation. No we’ll see. No denial.

Just the truth.

You swallowed, avoiding his eyes now. You put your hands inside the pocket of his hoodie, toying with your fingers as you look at anywhere but him.

"You’re just saying that because you want to win."

Vernon shook his head. "I already won."

You stared at him. "You did not—"

"You’re wearing my hoodie."

You opened your mouth then closed it.

Because damn it—he was right.

And the worst part? For the first time you didn’t want to fight it.

After that, it's like everything was normal again. For Vernon, not for you. You had not recovered from Vernon’s confession. Mostly because he didn’t bring it up again. No teasing. No rubbing it in.

He just—let it sit which somehow made it worse because now, you were the one thinking about it.

About him.

About how easy it would be to just… give in.

And then one night, after another late shift, you walked outside and found him waiting leaning against his car. Hands in his pockets.

Like it was normal.

You sighed. "Vernon—"

"I know," he said. "You didn’t ask me to come."

You stared at him. "Then why did you?"

Vernon shrugged. "Because I knew you’d be tired."

Your chest tightened. You swallowed. "You really like me, huh?" you say, voice barely a whisper but he heard you. He heard you loud and clear.

"Yeah."

You like Vernon.

You like Vernon not just in a haha, he’s annoying but funny way. Not just in a he’s hot but I’d never admit it way but in a real, terrifying, no-going-back way and the realization hit you so hard that you had to physically sit down.

Chan, ever the menace, noticed immediately. "Oh no. It happened, didn’t it?"

You buried your face in your hands. "I hate my life."

Chan cackled. "I knew it."

"You are not allowed to tell anyone."

"Are you kidding? I’m telling everyone."

You shot him a glare. "Chan—" "Kidding. Relax. Your secret’s safe."

You exhaled. "Good."

Chan smirked. "But, uh… you might want to tell Vernon soon."

You blinked. "Why?" Chan pointed behind you.

And when you turned Vernon was standing there and he's looking right at you.

You froze. Vernon didn’t.

He stepped closer, hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly. "So."

Meanwhile Chan slowly walks backwards to escape the scene and leaving you to your devices.

You swallowed. "So?"

"You like me." he smirks. The man had the audacity to smirk and it sends something right through you. Either you want to run away from or run away with, you're not so sure.

You let out a sharp breath. "Don’t start."

Vernon hummed. "You do, though."

You ran a hand through your hair. "Vernon—"

"It’s okay," he said. "I already knew."

Your stomach flipped. "Excuse me?" you look at him wide eyed

Vernon shrugged. "I was just waiting for you to admit it."

You stared at him. "You’re insufferable."

He grinned. "And you like me anyway."

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "This is the worst day of my life."

Vernon chuckled. "Is it?"

You hesitated because no it wasn’t.

It was actually… kind of nice.

Finally letting yourself feel it.

Finally stopping the fight.

Finally looking at him and knowing he had been waiting for you all along.

You sighed. "Fine." Vernon raised an eyebrow. "Fine?"

You crossed your arms. "Fine. I like you. Happy now?"

Vernon just smiled.

"Yeah."

And then he walks closer to you, only a step away. Close enough you can smell his shower gel and fabric softener but far enough to give you space if you needed it.

Then he laced his fingers through yours. He did it like it was normal. Like he had been waiting to do it this whole time.

You stared down at your hand in his. Warm. Steady. Unwavering.

And suddenly you felt stupid.

Because what now? what, he got what he wanted? You admitted it. You said it. He won. Was he going to smirk, say told you so, and just… walk away?

You pulled your hand back, crossing your arms. "What now?"

Vernon blinked. "What do you mean?"

You scowled. "What now? You’re happy? You win?"

Vernon tilted his head, confused. "Win what?"

You huffed. "The bet. The whole stupid game you’ve been playing. Congratulations. You made me fall for you. Now you can go back to your cool, mysterious, hockey star life and leave me alone."

Vernon frowned. "What?"

You threw your hands up. "I mean, that’s how this goes, right? You chase me, I resist, I finally give in, and then boom—you’re over it."

You scoffed. "See? Silence. I knew it. I knew—"

"I’m not leaving."

You froze.

Vernon’s gaze was steady, unreadable, but there was something serious in his tone.

You swallowed. "What?"

"I’m not leaving, I'm not going anywhere. Where do you think I'm going?" he asks, confused

You hesitated. "Why not?"

Vernon exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Because I like you. Like, actually like you. This wasn’t just some game for me."

"It wasn’t?" you mumble

"No."

You shifted on your feet. "Are you sure?"

Vernon laughed a quiet, breathy sound, like he couldn’t believe you were actually asking. Then he reached out—gently, carefully—and hooked his pinky around yours. And somehow, that tiny, stupid action made your chest feel like it was about to explode.

Vernon looked at you. "I’m sure."

And just like that—

You didn’t know how to fight him anymore.

After that night, Vernon didn’t change.

He didn’t start being overly sweet. He didn’t suddenly turn into a rom-com boyfriend who sent you flowers and love notes.

No.

He was just him.

Still showing up.

Still waiting outside your internship, still tossing his jacket over your shoulders, still holding your hand in that quiet, casual way that made you wonder how you had gone this long without it.

And maybe…

Just maybe…

You were finally starting to trust it. To trust him because he wasn’t going anywhere and for once you didn’t want him to. The moment you realized you weren’t fighting this anymore—weren’t fighting him—a strange kind of calm settled over you.

Vernon was still holding your hand. Still standing close. Still watching you with that infuriatingly patient expression like he had all the time in the world to wait for you to catch up.

It should have been a big moment. A grand, cinematic, fireworks-in-the-background kind of thing.

But instead—

"OH MY GOD."

You and Vernon both jumped, heads snapping up just in time to see Chan standing there, eyes wide, mouth open.

Your idiot cousin pointed an accusing finger at your intertwined hands.

"WHAT IS THAT?"

You blinked. "What is what?"

"THAT!" Chan gestured wildly. "You! Him! HANDS!"

Vernon blinked at him, unfazed. "Yeah, we have hands."

"OH MY GOD."

You groaned, trying to yank your hand away out of pure instinct only for Vernon to tighten his grip. Subtle. Calm. Like he was telling you, No. Don’t let go just because he’s here.

You hesitated. Then…

You didn’t let go.

Chan screamed.

"I need a moment," Chan announced, dramatically collapsing onto a bench like he had just received life-altering news.

You rolled your eyes. "Chan, it’s not that serious."

"NOT THAT SERIOUS?" Chan clutched his chest. "You—you and Vernon—I mean—when—HOW?"

Vernon just stuffed his free hand in his pocket, watching Chan with his usual unreadable expression. "You good?"

"No," Chan wheezed.

You sighed. "You’re being dramatic."

Chan sat up abruptly, eyes narrowing. "Oh? I’m being dramatic? Says the girl who SWORE she would NEVER date another hockey player?"

Your face burned. "I—okay, yeah, I might’ve said that, but—"

"SO WHAT IS THIS THEN?" Chan gestured wildly at you and Vernon.

You opened your mouth—then closed it because what was this?

Vernon didn’t let you think for long. "We’re dating," he said simply.

You choked. "Vernon!"

Chan’s jaw dropped. "YOU ARE?!"

Vernon turned to you, unfazed. "We’re not?"

You floundered. "I mean—I—are we?"

Vernon shrugged. "You like me. I like you. We hold hands now. Feels like dating."

Your brain short-circuited.

Because… that was it? That easy?

Chan looked between the two of you, unimpressed. "This is the weirdest way I’ve ever seen two people start dating."

You groaned. "I hate both of you."

Vernon smirked. "You like me, though."

You scowled. "Don’t push it."

Chan stood up, rubbing his temples. "I need time to process this."

You crossed your arms. "It’s not that deep."

Chan snorted. "Not that deep? Please. The entire team is gonna freak when they find out."

Your stomach dropped.

"The team?"

"Oh yeah," Chan smirked. "Good luck keeping this quiet."

Vernon didn’t seem fazed at all. But you?

You were doomed.

Chan had seen a lot of things in his life.

He had seen Vernon score impossible goals in the last seconds of a game. He had seen you single-handedly shut down an entire group of guys trying to hit on you at a party. He had seen Seungkwan lose his mind when they ran out of his favorite snacks at the dorms.

But this?

This was a new level of shocking.

He had come over to your place after practice, expecting a normal night of hanging out. Maybe some bickering, maybe some teasing—nothing out of the ordinary.

What he did not expect was to walk into the kitchen and see Vernon standing behind you, arms loosely wrapped around your waist, casually resting his chin on your shoulder while you scrolled through your phone.

And even more shocking?

You were letting him.

You. The queen of personal space. The same person who once smacked Chan for putting his feet on your couch.

But now?

You were just standing there, completely unbothered, letting Vernon be all up in your space like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Chan froze. "WHAT AM I LOOKING AT?"

You barely glanced up. "Hey, Chan."

"No." He pointed an accusatory finger at you. "What is this?"

Vernon blinked lazily. "A kitchen."

"VERNON."

"What?" Vernon was so calm it was infuriating.

Chan sputtered. "You’re—you’re literally all over her, and she’s letting you?"

Vernon hummed. "Yeah."

"YEAH?"

You sighed, turning your head slightly to look at Chan. "Why are you acting like this is a crime?"

"Because YOU used to YELL at me for even TOUCHING YOUR SHOULDER!"

You shrugged. "You’re not Vernon."

"EXACTLY!"

Chan ran a hand down his face, groaning dramatically. "Oh my god. Oh my god, I need a second."

Vernon just looked at him, completely unfazed.

"You’re acting like I’m holding her hostage," Vernon said, resting his chin back on your shoulder.

"Okay," he breathed, pressing a hand to his chest. "I need—I need to sit down."

You rolled your eyes. "Drama queen."

"No, YOU DON’T GET IT," Chan huffed. "I spent YEARS watching you destroy men for breathing near you, and NOW YOU’RE JUST LETTING VERNON CUDDLE YOU IN THE KITCHEN?"

Vernon smirked. "Would you rather I kiss your cousin in the kitchen?"

Chan stared at him, deadpan. "I will throw you in a snowbank."

Vernon just shrugged, unbothered, and looped his arm around your waist again. And when you didn’t move away—didn’t fight it, didn’t act like it was a big deal—Chan lost his mind.

"I CAN’T BE HERE."

And with that, your cousin stormed out of the kitchen.

You laughed, shaking your head. "He’ll be fine."

Vernon just smirked, squeezing your waist slightly before pulling away.

"Yeah," he said. "But this is fun."

And honestly?

He wasn’t wrong.

The first time Vernon kissed you, it wasn’t in some dramatic, romantic moment. It wasn’t after a big fight or some emotional confession.

It was a regular night. The two of you had just finished getting dinner, and he had walked you to your door like he always did.

No pressure. No expectations. Just… Vernon being Vernon.

And as you turned to say goodnight, he just looked at you for a second—head tilted, hands in his pockets, gaze steady as ever.

Then, so casually it almost felt like an afterthought, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.

No rush. No hesitation. Just… easy.

And instead of pulling away, instead of overthinking it you kissed him back.

Because, for once in your life you weren’t scared. You weren’t running. You weren’t waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You were exactly where you were supposed to be.

And Vernon?

He had been waiting for you to figure that out all along.

The apartment was quiet.

Dim lighting from the bedside lamp cast a soft glow across the room, the kind that made everything feel warm and safe. Outside, the city buzzed with life, but inside, within the walls of your shared space, it was just you and Vernon.

And Vernon was clingy.

Not in an obvious, dramatic way. Not in the way some people whined for attention or made a big show of it.

No—Vernon’s clinginess was quiet, subtle, and completely inescapable.

Like now.

You had barely shifted an inch when his arm—already wrapped snugly around your waist—tightened.

"Where are you going?" His voice was low, raspy from sleep.

You sighed. "I wasn’t going anywhere."

"Good."

His hold on you relaxed slightly, but he didn’t let go. He never did. Vernon wasn’t the type to smother you with affection in public, but in private?

He was relentless.

He had to feel you. Had to know you were there. Had to keep you close, even in sleep which explained why your legs were tangled together, his arm was curled around your stomach, and his forehead was resting against the back of your neck.

The warmth of his breath tickled your skin.

You shivered and, of course, Vernon noticed. He let out a quiet hum, nuzzling even closer.

"Are you cold?"

"A little."

Without a word, he pulled the blanket higher, tucked it around you both, and pressed himself closer.

"Better?"

You smiled. "Yeah."

Vernon sighed, his lips barely grazing your shoulder. Silence settled between you. The comfortable kind. The kind where you didn’t need to say anything because just being there was enough.

But then you felt it. The way his fingers started tracing slow, absentminded patterns against your skin. Soft. Thoughtless. Completely natural.

It was so Vernon.

Always the same quiet gestures. Always the same small ways of showing affection. You reached down, lacing your fingers through his.

Vernon stilled for a second, then—without a word—he intertwined them properly, squeezing once before relaxing again.

And for a while, that was it.

Just the sound of your breathing. Just the warmth of him against you. Just the steady, slow rhythm of two people who fit together perfectly.

But then Vernon spoke.

"…You’re my favorite."

Your heart skipped a beat.

You turned slightly, catching the sleepy, almost shy expression on his face.

You raised an eyebrow. "Favorite what?"

"Just…" His voice was a little hoarse, a little soft, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to say it out loud. "My favorite everything."

Your breath caught.

Vernon never said things like this. Not because he didn’t feel them, but because he didn’t need to.

He showed it instead.

Through the way he waited for you after your internship, even if it meant sitting outside for an hour. Through the way he always pulled you closer in his sleep, like he was scared you’d disappear. Through the way he remembered the smallest things, like how you hated sleeping with socks on or how you always curled up a certain way when you were tired.

He didn’t have to say it.

But he did anyway.

Because you needed to hear it.

You swallowed, heart too full, too warm, too much.

"You’re such a sap," you muttered, trying to sound annoyed, but your voice cracked just a little.

Vernon smirked, eyes half-lidded with sleep.

"You like it."

You huffed. "Maybe."

He chuckled. Then, before you could say anything else, he tilted his head forward, pressed a lazy kiss against your jaw, and mumbled—

"Go to sleep."

And just like that—

You did.

[heartsriki]

SYMPHONY OF US ⌇음악

FLIRT ALERT! series⌇Park Jongseong | Next

pairing ᝰ jay x fem!reader — word count: 4.6k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ college au!, friends to lovers, mutual pining, bantering, song composer x guitarist, fluff, kissing.

synopsis — As music majors in college, You and Jay have always been seatmates in class—passing notes, sharing playlists, and teasing each other between lectures. But when you get paired for the annual Valentine’s Open Mic Night, your usual banter turns into long practice sessions, late-night coffee runs, and a song that sounds a little too much like a love confession.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊Hey Ermmuhh I couldn’t sleep so I cooked this one up and I actually like it. Guys I would do anything for guitar Jay, whos with me.. raise your hand..

The first time you ever sat next to Jay, it wasn’t by choice.

The lecture hall had been packed, students filing into seats with that first-week energy—half of them eager, the other half exhausted. You had arrived late, the only open seat left beside a guy in a coat, his foot tapping lightly against the floor in a steady rhythm.

“Bad day?” he had asked as you slumped into the seat.

You had barely looked at him before muttering, “Bad parking.”

That had made him chuckle. “Yeah, parking’s a nightmare.” Then, as if he could sense your irritation, he slid a packet of sheet music onto your desk. “Here. Since you missed the first part.”

That was the beginning of it.

For the rest of the year, Jay remained your unofficial seatmate. You didn’t plan it—it just happened. Every class, every semester, no matter the time or the professor, there was an unspoken agreement that you would end up beside each other. He passed you scribbled jokes in the margins of his notes, you stole his guitar picks, and somehow, you two had developed a routine that made even the dullest lectures bearable.

So when the Professor announced that the Valentine’s Open Mic Night would be a graded project this year, it wasn’t a surprise when he paired you and Jay together. What was surprising was the flicker of hesitation on Jay’s face when your names were called.

“You good?” you asked as you packed your things after class.

Jay blinked, snapping out of whatever thought had been on his mind. “Yeah. Just… never done a duet before.”

You raised a brow. “You literally performed at the Winter Recital last semester.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

He adjusted the strap of his bag, glancing down at his shoes before flashing you a lopsided grin. “I didn’t have to sing with you.”

You rolled your eyes, bumping his shoulder with yours. “Relax, I’ll try not to make you sound bad.”

And that was it. That was how your simple routine with Jay turned into something a little bit more.

You would think that after almost a year of sitting next to each other, sharing notes, and teasing back and forth, you two would have naturally grown closer. But there had always been a boundary—an invisible line neither of you dared to cross. You weren’t sure if it was because of the way Jay always seemed so effortlessly cool, or because you had convinced yourself that your dynamic worked best when there were no expectations beyond the classroom.

But something about today felt different.

As he turned to leave, you blurted out, “Would you like to get some coffee?!”

Jay froze mid-step at your sudden outburst, then turned slowly to meet your gaze. The smirk that curled at his lips sent a flicker of heat to your face.

“You asking me out?”

Your entire body stiffened. “No! No,” you rushed to say, waving your hands frantically. “I mean—for our music piece. Y’know? So we can brainstorm or whatever.”

Jay tilted his head, pretending to consider it, even though you could tell he was enjoying your flustered reaction way too much. After a beat, he shrugged. “Alright. Lead the way.”

Fifteen minutes later, you were sitting across from him in a small café just off campus, a half-empty coffee cup between your hands. The place was cozy, the hum of conversation mixing with the soft jazz playing overhead.

Jay had abandoned his coat, rolling up the sleeves of his long sleeved shirt as he leaned back in his chair, watching you with mild amusement. “You’re overthinking it.”

You frowned. “What? No, I’m not.”

“You totally are,” he said, tapping a finger against your notebook. “Look at this. You’ve got three different song structures written down, but you haven’t committed to any of them.”

You groaned, running a hand through your hair. “Because I don’t know what works best. I mean, do we go for something upbeat? Or do we lean into the whole Valentine’s theme and make it, like… disgustingly romantic?”

Jay huffed a laugh, picking up his coffee. “You sound like love songs personally offend you.”

“They do when they’re forced,” you muttered, tapping your pen against the table. “I just don’t want it to sound fake, y’know?”

Jay was quiet for a moment, watching you carefully. Then he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “So let’s not make it fake.”

You blinked. “What?”

He nudged your notebook toward you. “Let’s write something real. Doesn’t have to be some cheesy love song. Just something that actually means something to us.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. For all the teasing and banter, Jay had a way of slipping in these unexpectedly earnest moments that made you pause.

You exhaled slowly, nodding. “Alright. Something real.”

“Good.” He grinned. “And if it just so happens to be a love song, well…” He shot you a teasing look. “Guess that says something about us, huh?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes. “Don’t make stupid jokes.”

Jay just laughed, but even as you refocused on your notes, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, somehow, things were changing between you two.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, the low hum of the cafe filling in the gaps as you both stared at your notebooks. Every so often, Jay would absentmindedly tap his fingers against the table, a steady rhythm that somehow made it easier for you to think.

You glanced up at him. “So, what’s something real to you?”

Jay’s fingers paused mid-tap. He looked at you, eyebrows raising slightly, as if he hadn’t expected you to actually ask. Then, after a moment, he shrugged. “Music, obviously. Late-night drives. My guitars. Oh, and good coffee.” He lifted his cup in emphasis before taking a sip.

You hummed, jotting down a few words in your notebook. “Alright, so we’re writing a love song about caffeine addiction.”

Jay chuckled. “That’s what you got from that?”

“You said ‘good coffee.’ That’s passion.”

He rolled his eyes but leaned forward, glancing at your notebook. “Okay, your turn. What’s something real to you?”

You hesitated, tapping your pen against the page. It was a simple question, but answering it felt more intimate than you had expected.

“Uh… sunrises,” you said finally. “When you’ve been up all night, and everything’s quiet for a few minutes before the world wakes up. That first breath of cold air in the morning. And…” You trailed off, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

Jay tilted his head, waiting. “And?”

You exhaled, deciding to just go for it. “That feeling when you’re playing music, writing it, and for a second, it’s like… everything just clicks.”

Jay was quiet. When you looked up, he wasn’t smirking or teasing. He was just watching you, something unreadable in his expression.

“Yeah,” he said, voice softer now. “I get that.”

Something shifted then—an unspoken understanding settling between you.

Jay reached for his guitar case beside his chair, flipping open the latches. “Alright,” he said, adjusting the strap over his shoulder. “Let’s see what we’ve got so far.”

You bit your lip, flipping through your notes. “I mean, we don’t have much yet, but…”

Jay started strumming, a simple, easy melody filling the space between you. You listened, letting the rhythm settle in before you hesitantly hummed a melody over it.

Jay’s lips curled into a smile. “That works. Keep going.”

And just like that, the song started to take shape.

Hours later, you were still at the café, empty cups pushed to the side as you sat next to Jay in the booth, your notebooks a mess of scribbled lyrics and crossed-out ideas.

“Alright, what about this?” Jay said, adjusting his guitar. He played a soft progression, nodding toward you. “Try it with the lyrics we just fixed.”

You took a breath and sang the first few lines, the words tentative but starting to feel more natural the more you repeated them. Jay watched you as you sang, his eyes focused—not in the way he usually looked at you when he was about to tease you, but in a way that made something in your chest tighten.

When you finished, he nodded slowly. “That was good.”

You laughed lightly, nudging his shoulder. “Yeah?”

Jay’s grin returned, but there was something gentler about it this time. “Yeah. We still have a lot to work on but.. its good.”

You glanced at the clock, realizing how late it had gotten. “We should probably head back before they kick us out.”

Jay sighed dramatically, strumming one last chord before setting his guitar aside. “Fine. But only because I don’t want them banning me from my favorite cafe.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled as you started packing up your things. As the two of you stepped outside, the cold night air bit at your skin, and you shivered. Before you could react, Jay wordlessly shrugged off his coat and draped it over your shoulders.

You blinked at him. “Jay—”

“Don’t start,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “You looked cold.”

Your heart did a stupid little flip, but you quickly masked it with a playful smirk. “This is just an excuse to save your seat tomorrow isn’t it?”

Jay shot you a playful hurt look. “Wow, you think so little of me.”

You laughed, hugging his coat closer around you as the two of you walked back toward campus, the melody of your half-written song still lingering in the air.

The next few days fell into an easy rhythm—class, study sessions, and sneaking into the music room whenever it was free. You and Jay spent more time together than ever, working through melodies, tweaking lyrics, and getting lost in conversations that had nothing to do with the song at all.

And somehow, somewhere between all of that, the line between “just seatmates” and something more started to blur.

“Okay, one more run-through,” Jay said, adjusting the tuning pegs on his guitar.

You groaned, leaning your head back against the piano bench. “Jay, we’ve done like… twelve run-throughs.”

He shot you a look. “And yet you still mess up the second verse.”

“Hey!” You sat up, pointing at him accusingly. “I wouldn’t mess it up if you didn’t look at me like that.”

Jay smirked. “Like what?”

“Like you’re trying not to laugh every time I hit the high note.”

“I am trying not to laugh,” he admitted, eyes twinkling. “Not because of your singing—your singing’s great. It’s just…” He paused, grinning. “You scrunch up your nose when you go for high notes. It’s cute.”

Your breath hitched for a second.

Jay must’ve realized what he said, because his fingers fumbled over the guitar strings. He cleared his throat, suddenly focused on his instrument.

You stared at him, the warmth creeping up your neck completely unrelated to the heated room. Instead of responding, you exhaled and picked up your lyrics sheet. “One more run-through,” you mumbled.

Jay glanced at you, lips twitching. “One more.”

By now, late-night practice had become routine. But this was the first time you’d ended up at Jay’s apartment.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, tossing his keys onto the counter.

You glanced around, taking in the space. It was exactly what you expected—minimalist, with music posters and a guitar stand in the corner. A few records were stacked near a player, and his desk was cluttered with sheet music and unfinished compositions.

“You live like an actual musician,” you mused, running a finger over a worn-out lyric book on his desk.

Jay snorted. “I thought I gave off business major energy.”

You rolled your eyes, but your gaze landed on the couch, where a soft-looking blanket was draped over the armrest. You raised an eyebrow. “You keep a blanket on your couch?”

Jay glanced over and shrugged. “Yeah?”

You smirked. “Didn’t take you for a cozy guy.”

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I have layers.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you settled onto the couch. Jay sat beside you, guitar in hand. The song was almost finished now, just a few refinements left before the performance.

“You wanna run through it again?” you asked, pulling your knees up.

Jay nodded, but he hesitated, fingers hovering over the strings. When you looked at him, he wasn’t smirking or teasing like usual. There was something thoughtful in his gaze, something… uncertain.

Jay’s fingers moved over the guitar strings effortlessly, the melody filling the space between you. Your voice wove through it, soft but steady, carrying the lyrics you’d both spent hours perfecting.

But tonight—tonight, the song felt different.

It wasn’t just words on a page anymore. It wasn’t just an assignment. It was something heavier, something unspoken. Something neither of you dared to name.

When the last note faded, silence settled between you.

Jay exhaled, setting his guitar aside. “That was…” He trailed off, as if searching for the right words.

You nodded slowly, barely above a whisper. “Yeah.”

Neither of you moved.

You were still sitting cross-legged on the couch, his blanket draped loosely over your shoulders. Jay was beside you, leaning against the cushions, his arm resting on the back of the couch. Close. Closer than before.

The tension hung thick in the air, pressing against your skin.

Jay’s gaze flickered to your lips for half a second—so quick you might’ve imagined it. But then his fingers twitched against his knee, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

And suddenly, you knew.

You knew that if you leaned in, if you closed the space between you, something would happen.

Your pulse pounded.

Jay shifted slightly, his knee brushing against yours. He wasn’t smirking, wasn’t teasing—just watching you, waiting, like he was caught in the same pull that had tightened around your chest.

Your breath hitched.

Jay tilted his head just a little, like he was debating something. Like he was giving you the chance to stop this before it went somewhere neither of you could take back.

Your heart was a drumline in your chest.

Your fingers curled around the edge of the blanket.

You should move. Say something. Anything.

But you didn’t.

Instead, your gaze dropped—just briefly—to his lips. And that was all it took.

Jay leaned in.

Your breath tangled with his, warmth ghosting over your skin. Your lashes fluttered. He was close enough now that you could see the night shine in his dark eyes, close enough that you could feel the slight hitch in his breathing.

A fraction of an inch. That’s all that was left.

Then—

BZZZT.

Jay jerked back, exhaling sharply as his phone vibrated against the coffee table.

The hypnotic spell shattered.

You blinked, heart still hammering, trying to process what almost just happened.

Jay cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh. I should… probably check that.” His voice was slightly hoarse.

You nodded stiffly, gripping the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “Yeah. Yeah, go ahead.”

Jay reached for his phone, glancing at the screen. “It’s my friend Jungwon,” he muttered, like that somehow explained the whiplash of the moment you’d just shared.

You took the opportunity to stand, needing space, needing to breathe. “I should—um, I should go. It’s late.”

Jay’s head snapped up. “Wait—”

But you were already grabbing your things, shoving your notebook into your bag. Your fingers still trembled slightly.

Jay stood too, stepping toward you, but he hesitated. Like he wasn’t sure if he should stop you. Like he wasn’t sure what to say after what just happened.

And honestly? Neither were you.

So instead, you forced a small, strained smile. “See you tomorrow?”

Jay held your gaze for a beat longer, something unreadable in his eyes.

Then, finally, he nodded. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

You turned quickly, stepping out of his apartment before you could second-guess yourself.

The night air was cold against your burning skin.

And as you walked away, heart still racing, one thought repeated in your head over and over again.

What the hell just happened?

The Valentine’s Open Mic Night had arrived.

The auditorium buzzed with energy—students chattering excitedly, couples whispering to each other, friends hyping up performers. The warm glow of stage lights bathed the room in a golden hue, casting long shadows against the red-and-white Valentine’s decorations.

Backstage, you paced.

“Stop doing that,” Jay said from his spot on a folding chair, tuning his guitar for what had to be the hundredth time.

You shot him a look. “Doing what?”

“Walking back and forth like you’re about to confess to a crime.”

“I feel like I’m about to confess to a crime,” you muttered, rubbing your arms. “Why does this suddenly feel so intense?”

Jay smirked, resting his guitar on his lap. “Maybe because we wrote a song that sounds suspiciously like a love confession?”

Your heart jumped in your chest. “It’s not a love confession,” you shot back, a little too quickly.

Jay arched an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

You opened your mouth—ready to argue, ready to insist that the song was just a song, nothing more—but the words didn’t come out.

Because the truth was, ever since you’d started rehearsing for this performance, something had felt… off. Not about the music itself—the melody was strong, the lyrics flowed effortlessly—but about the way it made you feel.

Every time you sang it, every time Jay harmonized with you, there was this undeniable weight behind it. Something unspoken, something too close to the surface.

And the more you listened to it, the more familiar it felt.

Like you’d heard it before.

Like you’d felt it before.

You swallowed, voice quieter now. “…Jay.”

His smirk faded slightly. “Yeah?”

You hesitated, but then the realization hit you so hard, you couldn’t stop the words from spilling out.

“This song,” you murmured, gripping the hem of your sleeve. “It sounds like us.”

Jay stilled. His fingers froze on the guitar strings.

For a moment, neither of you said anything.

Then, he let out a slow breath, tilting his head at you. “You just figured that out?”

Your heart stuttered. “You knew?”

Jay’s lips twitched—not in amusement, but in something softer, something almost… shy. “I had a feeling.”

Your pulse roared in your ears. “And you didn’t say anything?”

Jay shrugged, glancing down at his guitar. “I figured you’d realize it eventually.”

Your mind spun. You thought back to every late-night practice session, every lyric you had painstakingly written with him, every melody that had come so naturally between you. You thought about how easily the words had formed, how every note had fit perfectly.

And then it hit you.

This wasn’t just a song.

This was your song. Yours and Jay’s. A reflection of everything between you—the teasing, the late-night conversations, the moments you’d never dared to name.

It wasn’t a forced Valentine’s song. It was real.

And it was about him.

The announcer’s voice crackled through the mic. “Next up, we have a duet from two of our very own music majors. Give it up for—”

You barely heard the introduction. Your heart was hammering too loudly, your thoughts running too fast.

Jay stood, slinging his guitar strap over his shoulder. But before he could step forward, he turned to you, eyes searching yours.

There was something unspoken in his gaze, something that said, We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready.

But the thing was—you were ready.

Because now, standing here on the brink of something terrifying and real, you knew one thing for certain.

You weren’t just about to sing a song.

You were about to tell Jay—in front of an entire audience—exactly how you felt.

Even if you hadn’t meant to.

Even if he already knew.

You took a deep breath, steadied your racing heart, and stepped onto the stage with him.

The last note hung in the air, trembling like a secret waiting to be spoken.

Then, silence.

For a split second, everything stood still—your hands gripping the mic, Jay’s fingers frozen on the last chord, your breaths coming fast and uneven. You could still feel the weight of the song between you, still hear the echoes of every word that had slipped past your lips.

Then the auditorium erupted.

Applause, whistles, cheers—loud and overwhelming. The sound crashed over you, breaking through the haze that had settled during the performance.

Your chest rose and fell, heartbeat still trying to catch up with everything that had just happened. Slowly, you turned to Jay.

He was already looking at you.

The stage lights painted him in gold, catching the softness in his gaze, the hint of something unspoken lingering in the way his fingers were still curled around his guitar.

For a second, neither of you moved.

Then, Jay exhaled, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He tilted his head slightly, eyes searching yours.

We did it.

You nodded.

And just like that, the moment passed.

Jay turned back toward the mic, running a hand through his hair before giving the audience a lopsided grin. “Well,” he said, voice slightly breathless. “That was fun.”

A few laughs rippled through the crowd.

You could still feel the rush of adrenaline in your veins, your mind spinning from everything—the song, the way Jay had looked at you, the way the lyrics felt too real.

The host walked back onstage, grinning as he clapped his hands. “Wow. That was… incredible.” He turned to you and Jay, eyes twinkling. “Now, I gotta ask—was that just a performance, or was that something real?”

Laughter and teasing whistles rang through the crowd. Your breath hitched.

Jay glanced at you.

The stage lights made it impossible to see the audience clearly, but you could feel every pair of eyes watching, waiting.

Jay hesitated for only a second. Then, with a smirk, he leaned toward the mic.

“I guess that’s up to interpretation.”

The crowd groaned in playful frustration, but Jay just chuckled, sending you a quick, unreadable glance before standing up and adjusting his guitar strap.

You huffed out a breathless laugh, shaking your head as the host ushered you both toward the wings.

The second you stepped offstage, the noise of the crowd muffled behind the curtain, a strange weight settled in your chest.

Jay stood beside you, shifting his guitar on his back. He didn’t say anything right away, just let out a quiet exhale before turning to you.

For a moment, it was just the two of you again. No audience. No stage. No expectations.

Just you, Jay, and the song that had said everything you hadn’t.

He opened his mouth, like he wanted to say something.

But before he could, someone called his name from the other side of the curtain, and the moment slipped away.

Jay hesitated for half a second, gaze lingering on yours—like he was waiting. Like there was something unfinished between you.

Then, with a small, knowing smile, he gave you a nod.

“C’mon,” he said softly. “Let’s go.”

And just like that, he walked away, leaving you standing there—heart still pounding, lyrics still echoing in your head, and a quiet, unshakable feeling that whatever this was between you and Jay…

It was just beginning.

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

It started slow.

Not because either of you were unsure—because, really, after that song, after that performance, there was no denying what had been brewing for a while between you two—but because neither of you wanted to ruin what was already there.

The playful banter, the late-night coffee runs, the way you always saved him a seat in class, the way he always texted you first whenever he found a song he knew you’d love.

So for a while, nothing changed.

At least, not obviously.

But then there were the small things. The little shifts that made it clear that something was different.

Like the way Jay’s arm would rest along the back of your chair a little longer than necessary. The way his fingers would brush against yours when he handed you a sheet of music, lingering just a second too long. The way his texts became softer—not that they weren’t teasing, because Jay would always be Jay—but now they came with an undertone of something more:

Jay:

Late-night practice? I’ll bring coffee.

Song idea. I need your genius input. Also, your voice.

Are we calling this “studying” even if we just end up talking the whole time?

(Not that I’m complaining.)

And then there were the moments between the music.

Like the first time he reached for your hand without a joke to hide behind. You had been sitting in the empty auditorium after a long practice session, your head leaning against the back of your chair, exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs.

Jay had stretched, rolling out his shoulders, and then—without looking at you—he just took your hand.

No teasing smirk. No offhand comment. Just his fingers curling around yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And it was.

Or the time he had walked you home after another late-night coffee run, and instead of his usual casual “See you tomorrow”, he had hesitated at your doorstep, looking at you like he was thinking about something.

You had raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Jay had tilted his head, lips twitching in amusement. “Nothing,” he had murmured. “Just… realizing I might be in trouble.”

Your heart had flipped. “Trouble?”

“For liking you too much,” he had said easily. “Feels dangerous.”

And you had laughed—because of course Jay would confess something like that with a smirk and a joke—but you had still felt your face heat up.

(And okay, maybe you had reached for his hoodie, tugging him forward just enough to kiss him on the cheek before quickly ducking inside and shutting the door behind you.)

And then there was now.

Sitting in the music room, your back against the grand piano, Jay’s guitar resting across his lap as he absently strummed through a melody you hadn’t heard before.

You tilted your head. “New song?”

Jay hummed. “Maybe.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Let me guess. Another love song?”

He smirked but didn’t deny it. “What can I say? Got a lot of inspiration lately.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered anyway.

Jay’s fingers slowed over the strings as he glanced at you, expression thoughtful. “You know,” he said, “I don’t think I ever actually asked you.”

You frowned slightly. “Asked me what?”

Jay set his guitar aside, turning to face you fully. “If I can be your boyfriend.”

Your stomach flipped. “Jay—”

“I know, I know,” he interrupted with a grin. “It’s kinda obvious at this point. But still.” His voice softened, eyes meeting yours. “I wanna hear you say it.”

You exhaled, shaking your head at him. Hopeless.

But still, you smiled, nudging his foot with yours. “Jay, you’ve been my boyfriend since the moment we wrote that song.”

His expression shifted—just slightly. Just enough for you to catch the flicker of something real in his eyes.

Then, in typical Jay fashion, he smirked. “Oh, so you’re admitting it was a love song?”

You groaned, laughing as you reached over to shove his shoulder. “Shut up.”

Jay caught your wrist before you could pull away, tugging you toward him. And before you could react, before you could even tease him for it—

He kissed you.

Soft. Unhurried. Just enough pressure to steal your breath, just enough warmth to send a slow, steady hum through your veins.

When he pulled back, he grinned, voice barely above a whisper.

“So, you wanna write another one?”

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- If you weren’t tagged you need to fix your visibility!

[barbwritesstuff]

This might turn into an essay because I truly could write an essay about this, but I was replaying Blood Moon for the infinite+1 time and the decision to make Alek's job be a janitor has SO much to it that I love and adore, the contrast of him being the highest status and most respected member but also never really enforcing that (e.g. letting Sergi call him by his name instead of Alpha) showing that he's a practical leader - a leader who is there because he takes care of people rather than being in the position for power or vanity, and then him taking a job that is low status and a thankless and often unpleasant job, but one which is extremely important to the community, a community that would likely not recognise what an important role he's playing in their wellbeing and how that can also play as a metaphor for the wider theme of the role werewolves play in the city over the course of the storyyy <3 <3 <3 idek how much of if was intentional because there's SO much but at its core it speaks to the fact that you truly GET the genre

I really wanted my werewolves to feel like people. They're not monsters, they're janitors, wait staff, and post workers. They're parents, cousins, uncles, and grandmas.

Normal, working class, people. The sort that would move into a low income area of the city, enrol their kids in school, and pick up odd jobs to make ends meet.

I also just really liked the idea of the alpha being this kind, nice janitor guy. Like, he's cool. He's the guy you see catching the bus late at night. He'll share his sandwich with you if you're hungry, knows some corny jokes, and has his kids' photos in his wallet.

And he's the alpha of the local werewolf pack, not that you'd ever know that.

Also, perhaps more thematically, making the werewolves so human and so normal really meant I could ham up the vampires. I leant more into the horror with them, made them more alien.

I like werewolves and vampires as thematic opposites. They're each other's narrative foil. And so, by making the werewolves regular people who seem like scary monsters, it makes sense to make vampires scary monsters who seem like regular people.

The werewolves are the big, loud family that moved in next door. The vampires are the powers that be, the rich, the powerful, the established of the city, and they're much more dangerous than the newcomers could ever be.

Of course, Erin May is the exception. The young vampire that's there to show vampires don't start out monstrous, they were once normal people too. It's time and hunger that warps them.

[r4fe-cam3ron]

𓍯 ִֶָ FEBRUARY NINTH; side a — cheater - the vamps | e. munson x r

w; does not follow ‘stranger things’ timeline, cheating (not eddie or reader), a fight breaks out (shocker!!!!), best friends to lovers trope, angst, fluff an; i love the vamps ❤️❤️❤️❤️

mixtape here!

Eddie grunts as his foot stumbles over the rug that had been flipped over, grumbling under his breath as he looks back at the offending object. 

You'd run off and leave him once again, looking for James in the crowd of people. 

He used to be only okay with going to parties (because he was making bank), but now it’s exhausting and makes him nauseous when he goes to one. Yet, he could never say no to you…. for whatever reason. 

No. He knows the reason. You would never figure it out though. Especially now that you’re with someone like James. He makes a face when his name mentally passes through his mind, shivering as if he’d been told something disgusting and it leaves some sort of bad taste in his mouth. 

Jogging up the steps, he’s in search of a bathroom. His eyes scope the area, heading towards a door. Opening it up, he stumbles to a stop as his lips part. 

Oooh boy. 

“Eddie?” 

He’s aware again that he’d just walked into something that almost causes him to black out and do something he regrets. James is standing there with cheap, pink lipstick smeared above his upper lip. 

The girl looks away quickly, having the decency to look a tiny bit ashamed. 

“Hey, man,” James chuckles slightly. He’s nervous and Eddie can tell by the way his hands shake when they lift from the girls waist. “That was…I didn’t…I tried pushing her off.” 

Eddie scoffs. “Yet, you looked like you were having the time of your life. Goodbye, James.” He gives him a mock salute, slamming the door behind himself, muffling the pleads that leave James’ mouth. 

He’s quick to jog down the stairs once again, now on the hunt for you. He had to get you out of here before telling you. 

“Eddie!” He stops in his steps, following the sound of your voice. He hears his name once again, this time from James. He’s quick on his feet, grabbing your hand when he finally reaches you. 

“We need to leave. Now.” 

You looked a bit startled from his sudden frazzled state, stumbling but following behind him as he pulled you in between the crowd and towards the front door. You look back when you hear James’ voice call out for Eddie once again. 

“Hey, Eds. Wait for—” 

“I’m not waiting for him unless you want him to get—” Your hand slips from his once he’s outside in the cool air. He quickly turns and glances at you quickly before looking at James. 

“Honey, I was calling out for you guys. Are you leaving?” 

“James—” 

“Eddie told me we needed to leave,” You nod. “I was trying to tell him to wait on you.” 

“Tell her why I wouldn’t want to wait on you, James.” Eddie clenches his jaw. You glance between the two, suddenly confused now by the tension. It makes you slightly uncomfortable, shifting on your feet. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” James shakes his head, a small smirk pulling at his lips. 

Collecting himself, Eddie shakes his head and steps closer, his hand grabbing your wrist. “Come on. Let’s get you home.” 

“Eddie—”

“She’s not going anywhere with you, you freak,” James spits at him, pulling you back. Your brows pinch together, staring up at him as you stumble from his reaction. “You’re so pathetic thinking that she would actually want anything to do with you,” He lets out a condescending laugh. 

“I see the way you act around her. You’re not slick with—” 

Eddie wasn't sure what had happened after that. He was standing one moment, holding his composure well. 

Or…he thought he was. 

His ears are ringing now and his knuckles are throbbing. A small breath leaves his mouth when he’s dragged off of James. “Okay! Alright!” He yanks himself from whoever had a grip on his arm. He stares down at James who had tears slipping down his cheeks, slipping in with the blood. 

His chest heaves as he walks over, trying to talk calming breaths. “Don’t ever talk to me that way again,” He points to him. “Next time you think about cheating on someone, think about what happened, yeah?” 

James’ shaky hand cradles his nose in his hand as his eyes stare up at Eddie who looms over his body. His green eyes drift over to you, gulping slightly when he sees the look on your face. 

“What do you mean?” You finally speak up. 

Eddie rubs his lips together before turning towards you. “I walked in on him kissing some other girl,” His hands rest on his hips.

Man, I really need to learn how to not black out. 

Your eyes drop toward James, brows furrowing together. “I was going to tell you in the van but he just had to get in the way,” James slowly stands to the ground, shirt wrinkled a bit with spots of blood. “Which do you want to go with?” 

Eddie shouldn’t have given you the option to choose who you wanted to leave with. You tend to always give people second chances. 

He’s pleasantly surprised when you step towards him, your arm brushing over his. He nods wordlessly, pulling you away. 

James calls after you, following quickly. Eddie shakes his head and turns, holding his hand up, watching as he stumbles to a stop. “You just don’t get the hint, do you? Your actions have consequences. So next time, you wanna choose something that has your nose broken again as a consequence, think and ask yourself if you enjoyed that feeling.” 

James’ glances back at you and you quickly look away, crossing your arms over your chest. Eddie gives him one last warning look before turning towards you, placing a hand on your back as he leads you towards his van. 

The door squeaks when it opens and you quickly climb in. He shuts the door and rounds the front, quickly getting inside himself and starting it up. 

It’s quiet on the way back to your apartment. Eddie’s also slightly embarrassed, yet, not too much because he’d do that over and over if he truly needed to for you. Once he parks, he waits for you to leave his van without saying a word. 

“Do you wanna come in?” You glance over at him. He looks over at you, nodding slightly. 

“Uh, sure.” He kills the engine before getting out and rushing towards your side. You smile to yourself when he opens your door, slipping out of the van. He shuts it and follows behind you towards the stairs. 

“Sorry. The elevator is down.” 

“Again?” He chuckles a bit. 

“Again.” You nod. He smiles a bit, shaking his head slightly. You dig your keys out of your purse, unlocking the door. Eddie steps in after you, shutting and locking the door behind himself. 

“Sit. I’ll clean up your knuckles.” You motion towards the couch before walking towards your bathroom. He listens and makes his way over, sitting down as he glances down at his hand. He winces a bit.

First-aid in hand, you make your way back and sit next to him on the couch, pulling his hand towards you. It’s silent as you clean away the blood that had dried. 

“Eds?” 

“Yeah?” 

“What James said,” He quickly looks at you before looking away, gulping. “About you being pathetic.” 

“Oh,” He lets out a slight scoff, shrugging a bit. Your grip tightens on his hand. “Hey, it’s fine. I don’t care what he—”

“Especially about the part where I didn’t want anything to do with you,” You cut him off. He looks at you, noticing that you were already looking at him. “I just…I didn’t want something to happen between us and I lost you altogether.” 

“Hey…” He turns towards you as he shakes his head, a small frown on his face. “You could never lose me, okay?” 

You stare at him quietly for a moment, reaching out and cupping his cheeks softly. “Eddie?” 

“Yeah?” He whispers. 

You smile and lean close, nudging your nose against his, looking into his brown eyes. “I love you.” 

He’s quick to grin, leaning close as he presses his lips against yours. It’s not really a kiss, yet you don’t care. You laugh softly when he pulls away, his hand coming to grip the side of your neck softly. 

“Say that again.” 

You press another kiss against his cheek before nodding. “I love you.” You whisper. 

He presses his nose into your cheek softly when his lips press another kiss to your lips — now addicted. “I love you too.” Staring at him lovingly, you nod. 

“I know you do.” 

𓍯 ִֶָ tags; @ali-r3n — @marchsfreakshow — @sstar-ggirl — @love-quinn

𓍯 ִֶָ thank you for reading! comments, reblogs, & feedback are welcome & greatly appreciated!

[sheeple]

Part two to this. This series also has a title now: John has liked your photo! Hope you enjoy this as much as last time. Does it also show how little I know about kissing?

The second time you and John see each other in a cafe in the city centre. This time it's you who suggests meeting up. It made John feel giddy and like a schoolboy again when your text lit up his phone screen.

Your anxiousness made you way too early — as usual. But not too soon after, John appears in the cafe, also way too early. It makes you giggle.

"What is your go-to coffee order?", you ask while waiting in line, eyeing the menu and the delicious-looking pastries.

John hums, his hands clasped behind his back. "I hate to disappoint you, doll, but I'm a black coffee guy. Or tea."

Turning towards him with your eyes wide, not knowing if it is because of the nickname or the confession to drink coffee with nothing in it. "Not even some milk?"

He shakes his head with a smile. "None. If I'm in shipped out I'm happy to get a cuppa so I got used to the stuff raw."

Now you feel stupid for your usual very sweet coffee order. John sees the subtility in your face and he bumps his shoulder against yours. "Well, you are what you eat. So no wonder you're so sweet."

It makes your face heat up and you stumble over your words, not sure how to get out a response.

The line quickly moves along and John orders his black coffee and you your white chocolate mocha. Before he has time to grab his wallet, you've whipped out your phone and paid for it. You give him a daring smile while giving your name.

The two of you go sit in a quiet corner and wait for the coffee to arrive. You are telling some story about what has happened at work this week and halfway your name gets called out. John holds out his hand so you can stay put, and he grabs the order.

"Sorry, go on", he says with a smile when he returns with the coffees, placing yours in front of you with the ear facing your dominant hand.

"So", you say after finishing your story, "we haven't really talked about what we seek. You know... with dating and such." You nervously trace the rim of the glass, glancing up at the man.

John's leaning relaxed back into the chair, his legs spread wide and a comfortable smile on his face. "Gauging the vibe, doll?"

You can't help but feel your cheeks heat up again as you slink slightly down. "Maybe. Wouldn't want to waste your time if you want something completely different than me." You shrug, trying to play it cool.

That makes him lean forward a bit. "You sayin' that your time's less valuable than mine?"

That leaves you gaping like a fish. And it makes John crack a cheeky smile, showing he's teasing you.

"So do I have to worry about crazy exes or something?", he asks with a smile.

You shrug, putting your hair behind your ear. "Don't have to worry about something that's never been there", you say casually, taking a sip of your drink.

John's eyes bulge out of their sockets. Did he hear you correctly? Have you never dated anyone? How could such a wonder as you not have boys and men lined up and down the street, jumping for just a glance from you?

"Do I?", you ask timidly at his wide eyes and no response.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he clears his throat. Now is the time to come clean. "I mean... not like you have to worry about her, but there is my ex-wife."

"Wife?!" You clasp a hand over your mouth as you said that a bit too loud. "A-and for how long are you divorced? If I may ask, at least."

John smiles at your bashfulness. "Almost two years. We were married just short of a year. It was impulsive and I quickly discovered that being married to her wasn't as great as I thought it would be."

Unconsciously, you reach out and take hold of his hand. You can understand how hard it is to admit something like that to practically a stranger. "It must have been hard, going through that time in your life. Never mind the judgement of others."

He nods. "Something like that. It was more of the pitying glances of my family and their comments that got me at first. Their opinions about her and me and our relationship weren't always the kindest. But you get used to it and after a while, you get desensitized."

As you open your mouth to say something, a call of your name makes the two of you turn your heads. "Oh lord", you mumble as your aunt and cousin come walking towards the two of you.

"How are you, dear? " your aunt smiles widely, pulling you up for a hug. "I haven't seen you in a while! How's school? Oh, right. Your mum told me you quit and are working now. How do you like it? And who is this?" She turns her attention towards John.

The man dutiful stands up and offers his hand to your aunt. "John Price, ma'am."

From behind your aunt, you see your cousin lean over and mouth the words, "Who's that?", to you. "Date", you mouth back. She checks him once over and nods in appreciation.

"Oh mum, didn't you say you needed to go to that one store before it closes?", asks your cousin loudly, pulling the attention from your aunt.

"Right! It was lovely meeting you, John. See you next time, dear." Your aunt kisses both your cheeks as a goodbye before pulling her daughter behind her. You just know you'll get a text from her later on to demand the tea.

"I am so sorry", you laugh as you sit back down, hiding your face behind your hands.

John joins you and shakes his hands. "It's fine. Aunts are kinda my speciality."

"Really?"

"No", he smiles.

The rest of the afternoon goes by with smiles and laughs and good conversation until the staff has to, again like last time, kick you out and you're reluctant to say goodbye to John.

He walked to your car. It cracked him up to see the bright yellow car that lights up when you press the unlock button. Oh, how fitting of you to drive such an eyesore.

You hoover by the door, fiddling with your keys. "I had a really good time today, John." You shyly look up, your cheeks radiating heat.

John slowly inches closer, laying a hand on your cheek. "I did too." His eyes flicker between your own and your lips. You can't help but swipe your tongue over your bottom lip before taking it between your teeth.

"I desperately wanted to kiss you all day. Can I kiss you?"

Looking at him, you nod, searching for the right words. Stumbling out a 'yeah', John closes the distance and lightly presses his lips against yours.

Not knowing what to do, you lean into the kiss and close your eyes. John slides his other hand around your middle to pull you flush against his body. Your hands feel awkward so you replicate what you've seen over the years in movies and TV and place them first on his shoulders before sliding to the back of his neck.

A soft grumble comes from deep within his chest before you pull back, feeling like you are going to pass out if you don't. Either from the lack of air or your first-ever kiss.

Smiling wide, John rests his forehead against yours. "How am I to drive away from you now, doll."

You shrug, still slightly out of breath. "I'm wondering that myself." A giggle escapes you, licking your lips. "But I really have to go through... My parents are waiting for me. We're going to my grandma..."

"Those blasted parents of yours", teases John, letting go of you. "But if you have to go. Text me when you get home safe?"

You nod, opening your car door. "Will do. You too?"

John nods with a smile and watches how you drive away. Dear God. Is he crazy that he could envision the rest of his life together with you after the second date?

[justmeinadaze]

Louder Than Hell (Eddie X Plus Size Reader)

A/N: This was a request by @spiderxbatty and she even drew me a little concept sketch so that's what's described in this little fluffy blurb. Enjoy! <3

Warning: Fem Plus Size Y/N, Reader's weight is mentioned very briefly in the beginning, Eddie defends her.

Word Count: 1003

Eddie Asks/Donate To Me

“HEY! Are you being mean to my girl, Jason?”, the metalhead shouted as he wrapped a protective arm around your shoulders causing all eyes in the lunchroom to turn towards the scene. 

Jason Carver always bullied you when he just so happened to remember your existence but because of his reputation he had seem like a “good guy” to the student body. Eddie Munson was someone you were very much aware of but had never had the nerve to speak to because unlike you, he was loud and forward. 

Add in the fact that he was utterly gorgeous with those gorgeous chocolate eyes and smile that had you swooning. 

You honestly thought he had no idea who you even were which is why you were surprised when he appeared seemingly out of nowhere to stand by your side. 

“No, Munson…I was just saying hello to Y/N here.”, the jock responded through gritted teeth and a forced smile. 

“Oh? I didn’t realize the term ‘fat’ meant hello. What language is that? Asshole?”

Jason glared at the boy as he took a determined stride forward. 

“Shut the fuck up, freak.”

Eddie’s sarcastic smile fell as he let you go to also take a step towards him, nose to nose with your tormenter. 

“Leave her the fuck alone and I will.”

They stared each other down before the jock mumbled something like “prick” under his breath and turned to go take a seat at their usual table. 

“Hey, sweetheart, you alright?”, he asks as his face softens. When you silently nod, his gentle eyes take you in from head to toe. “Not much of a talker? Well, that’s alright but remember, babe, ‘some like evil and some like power’…”, he quotes as he points in the direction Jason walked down before turning to point at your chest. “…and ‘some bleed in vain. Some get a bullet in the head instead.’ Don’t play that particular role. Be louder than hell.”

With that, he winks and heads back to his own table leaving you smiling as you watch him throw himself down into his chair. 

***

Eddie sighed as he exited Ms. O’Donnell’s class and dragged his feet to his locker where he slammed his forehead against the cool metal. 

“Get it together, Munson.”, he chided himself as he spun the combination and opened the door to a folded piece of paper falling into his palm. 

He rolled his eyes, thinking it was one of the other asshole jocks leaving him mean things again but when he unfolded it, he was met with a beautiful recreation of the theater masks that were on the Theater of Pain Mötley Crüe album. The faces were colored with the happy face being in pink and the sad being in blue with each side stating the words yes and no.

Above in the same font as the title on the record were the words “Eddie, Will You Be My Valentine?” At the bottom, was your name and locker number. 

The metalhead grinned wide, biting his lips before shame washed over at the fact that he didn’t recognize your name but as he leaned back and searched his mind, he remembered the lyrics he quoted to a beautiful young lady from said album. 

“Well, fuck me.”

***

You purposely waited an hour and half after school let out to go check your locker. A part of you was incredibly nervous about his answer but you also didn’t want him to be sitting there waiting for you to “let you down easy” like some of the other nice boys had done in middle school when you first started trying to date. 

You hated being pandered to and honestly it was slightly embarrassing.

Just say no and move on.

Exhaling a heavy sigh and closing your eyes, you popped open your locker… 

To find only your books and jacket. 

Tears stung your eyes as you nodded to yourself and began emptying your backpack. 

“Jesus, took you long enough.” You jumped at the sound of Eddie’s voice, dropping your notebook and pencils causing them to scatter at your feet. “Shit, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ve been waiting here for you since the last bell and got antsy so I went to smoke really quick. I’m an idiot…let me…”

As he bent down to help you pick up your things, he noticed something on the sketch pad that stood out. 

“Shut up, Y/N, did you draw this?”, Eddie asks as he holds up the picture you drew of Tesla’s

Mechanical Resonance album, smiling when you nod. 

His fingers flipped through the pages, his grin growing at the other albums like Dio, Judas, and Alice Cooper expertly replicated. 

“Is this Poison’s Look What The Cat Dragged in?” Again, you nod. “Who’s in the…wait a minute…is this…Corroded Coffin? You’ve seen us play?”

“I…saw you at the talent show…in middle school.”

Finally hearing the sound of your voice has his head snap up as his grin softens to a gentle smirk. 

“Holy shit. She speaks.”, he teases making you blush as you duck your head. “These are amazing, Y/N. You are incredibly talented. Maybe you can show me more of your work over dinner on Friday.”

Your eyes light up as you nod.

“Can you say it for me, pretty girl?”

“Y-Yes, I’d love to have dinner on Friday.”

Eddie smiles as he hands you your notebook, reaching into his pocket to place a folded piece of paper on top as well. 

“I’ll see you then.” While backing away, he accidently stumbled into the wall missing the door he was trying to seamlessly exit through. “Wow, um, let’s pretend I did that smoothly.”

His face turns bright red when you giggle and he runs out the door to the parking lot. 

Hastily, you open the folded piece of paper to find that not only had he circled yes but also put his phone number at the bottom with crudely done drawing of rose beside it. 

#############

[namgyu-nurture]

Gang okay so, request.

Ahem

So Dae ho (ofc) x fem!reader, basically dae ho has a slight puppy crush on reader and he has a nightmare, reader helps by cuddling up to him when he has that nightmare. :D (ps I hc he loves cuddles and gets instantly relaxed when he feels warmth against him, aka cuddles.)

THANK YOU !! :P

Whispers of comfort - Kang dae-ho x fem!reader

Warnings: none this is pure fluff 💪💪

A/N: I love dae ho hes SUCH a cutie i love this guy like look at his smile AWHHHH

It was night and you couldn’t sleep, the horrors of the first game keeping you awake, how so many people died, the lives they had.

You had made a connection with a guy with the number 456, being stood next to him in red light green light, seeing his bravery, how he wasn’t afraid to try and save people. He let you sit with his group after the game, you met some of the players that were friends with him after the first vote.

A young man suggested we share names, he claimed his name was “Kang Dae-ho, ‘Dae’ as in ‘big’, ‘ho’ as in ‘tiger’” he had a cool name and we went round sharing our names.

You overheard one of the men, 390, Jung-bae say he used to be in the marines, Dae-ho gasped and smiled, he was in the marines aswell. You assumed it was a drawn out joke but Dae-ho started referring to Jung-bae as ‘sir, yes sir’. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself at how stupid you found it. Not necessarily in a bad way though.

This leads you to now. You lay awake as you hear someone stirring below you, they sound like they were in pain, scared shitless. You leaned your head over the side of the bed to look, Dae-ho.

Without a thought you crawled down and sat on the foot of his bed. You could tell he was having a nightmare so you thought it was best to wake him. You shook his shoulders slightly and he jolted awake, sitting upright almost cartoon like. If he was any taller he would’ve banged his head against the bunk above.

“Hey.. are you okay? Were you having a nightmare..?” You asked him softly, he looked at you, his cheeks slightly tear stained, he had been crying in his sleep.

“I- yeah- yeah. No worries sorry if I startled you. Just uh a bad dream” he looked away like it was casual but you could sense the embarrassment burning through his cheeks.

You sucked at comfort so you offered up the best you could. “Do you want a hug.?” You asked sweetly. He nodded weakly and you scooted closer, hugging him, his face was in the crescent of your neck and you held him close. “It’ll be okay.. okay?”

Dae-ho could only let out a “mhm”. You could tell he was holding back tears, he was embarrassed and still frightened from his imagination. You held him close.

“Let it all out mhm?” She said patting his back comfortably. “Was it about the marine stuff..?” You ask and he went quiet. “It’s okay you don’t have to tell me.” You reassure him. “It’s okay, you’re not there anymore.. you’re safe” and he nodded hugging her back tightly.

He felt safe in her embrace, he didn’t want to let go, it was like a shield. From all the had dreams.. bad memories. When you went to pull away he tightened his grip, hugging you tighter “stay.. please.. Dont go..” he whispered. And how could you say no to his sweet little plea. You stayed and held him close as you both found your way into a warm slumber.

[dazedhyu]

Focus 𓂃 💧 ldh

:¨ ·.· ¨: paring ー ex!haechan x fem!reader (ft 7dream)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ warnings : angst, smut, slight noncon (he pressures her into consenting at first), light exhibitionism, fingering, oral (fem rec.), mentions of cheating, pet names (angel, princess, etc), lmk if i missed any ^_^

★彡 5.9k wc!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ authors note >< : my first post here :D!!! this is the second fic i actually decided to attempt to write.. so im so so so sorry if the pacing is off or the writing is weird LMFAO,, it took me way longer than id like to admit to finally finish this.. literally has been in my drafts since july of last year 😭 this was supposed to be inspired by focus by nct 127, unfortunately though i definitely went a little off track.. hopefully whoever reads this enjoys it as much as i do!! any and all feedback is welcome :3 psa.. though this was proof read like 89 times pls ignore any spelling errors im dyslexic ok

It’s been almost a year since you and Haechan broke up. You’ve spent every second since despising him. You hate the way he steals glances when he thinks you won’t notice. You hate the way his voice still lingers in the back of your mind when the room is too quiet,  and more than anything, you hate how much you still find yourself craving the warmth of his touch at times. 

You do your best to ignore him. You guys share the same friend group and hang out often. The last thing you’d want to do is make your shared friends feel tied up in your weird relationship drama. But it was hard when Haechan would joke around with them and slip in snide comments about you, glancing over at you with that stupid shit-eating grin plastered on his face, desperately trying to get a rise out of you. 

Though you’ve convinced yourself you’re over him, completely given up, you sometimes wonder if he ever stops hating you. If, for even a second, he lets himself remember what it was like before everything fell apart. If he ever regrets the way he cheated on you and left you confused, and broken.

As the long-awaited spring break weekend arrived, you and your six friends — plus Haechan — found yourselves at Chenle’s summer estate, a secluded getaway nestled between towering pines that you all tended to visit every vacation you got. The midday sun filtered through sheer white curtains, casting warm patterns across the wooden floors of your designated room. 

You wasted no time unpacking, barely bothering to fold your clothes as you stuffed them into the nearest dresser. The trip had only just started, and you already knew you wouldn’t be spending much time in this room, not when the sun was high, the water was cool, and the pool was calling your name.

Slipping into a simple black bikini, you gave yourself a once-over in the mirror. Satisfied, you grabbed your phone and headed for the door, the distant sound of laughter drifting up from downstairs. Voices overlapping, doors opening and closing. It was familiar, easy, the kind of noise that made the place feel lived in.

You exhaled, relaxation finally overriding your system. You were here to enjoy yourself, and nothing, not even the lingering tension of past mistakes, was going to change that.

In the kitchen, Mark and Renjun were hunched over the island, deep in some conversation you didn’t care enough to eavesdrop on as they cut up fruit. Everyone else was out by the pool, laughing, sunbathing, and just having a good time overall. 

Everything felt easy, weightless, like nothing mattered beyond this weekend, beyond the warmth of the sun and the cool relief of the water.

Unfortunately for you, though, you saw him, and your mind immediately started to wander.

Haechan sat at the edge of the pool, legs submerged, an unreadable expression on his face as he stared out at the water. There was something detached about his gaze, like he wasn’t fully there. Like he was completely lost in thought about something else. 

You rolled your eyes and turned away before you could linger too long. You hadn’t spoken to him once since getting here, and you weren’t about to start now. It was bad enough you had to share this weekend — just like every other moment with your friends — with him. He wasn’t going to ruin this for you. Not like he always did. You refused to let him get under your skin whatsoever.

Without a word, you walked past the kitchen, past the open doors, and stepped onto the sun-warmed patio, quietly taking a seat on a secluded sun lounger. The laughter, the sunlight, the cool water, all of it should have been enough to soothe you. And for the time being, it was.

You weren’t going to let him be the thing you noticed most.

A few hours had passed, the sun just barely starting to dip below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow across the patio. You and your friends were deep in discussions. Yet, despite the carefree energy surrounding you, your attention kept flickering toward the empty space where Haechan should’ve been.

You hadn’t seen him for a while now — not that you cared, but you could definitely tell something was on his mind, slowly eating away at him. Usually, he would do everything in his power to irritate and annoy you, take every opportunity he had to glare so intensely you swore he was trying to burn holes into your skin, but today he was quiet. Too quiet. 

You told yourself it didn’t matter, that he’d probably just had a rough day and called it quits, going back to his room. Yet the longer you sat there, the more you found yourself unconsciously searching for him.

Shaking off the thought, you stretched your arms above your head, sighing as the stiffness from sitting too long settled into your shoulders. Deciding you needed a break, you made your way inside, stepping into the dimly lit kitchen. The faint hum of the fridge filled the quiet space as you reached for a glass, the cool sensation of condensation forming against your fingertips while you poured yourself a drink.

Just as the first sip of cold juice touched your lips, a sudden grip on your hips sent a sharp jolt up your spine. Your breath hitched, fingers tightening around the glass as a shiver coursed through your body. The grip was firm, possessive even, harshly pushing your back against their chest. 

For a split second, your mind raced. The silence behind you felt heavy, the presence lingering close. Immediately, you knew it was Haechan, the fear in your body being quickly overridden with irritation as you grabbed his wrists and forced his hands off your body.

“Don’t touch me, Donghyuck.” Your voice was a weird mix of soft yet stern, it only made his smirk grow wider. His hands immediately moved back to your hips, fingers digging in so harshly you were sure it would leave bruises. A small hiss slipped past your lips before he rested his chin on your shoulder, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. 

“Why not? I know you miss my touch, baby.” He whispered sweetly, his hands pressing you further against him. Your ass flush against the bulge in his swimsuit made you wince, the pressure of his fingers digging into your hips sent an intense pain through your body. You hesitated for a second, your breath catching in your throat, before you reluctantly set the cup down on the counter.

“No need to get all dumb and quiet, you're shaking so much… just let Hyuckie take care of you the way he always did. Yeah, angel?” He spoke again, his hands abandoning your hips to slide down to your thighs, gripping them tight as his lips pressed hot, hungry kisses down the back of your neck and shoulder. You shook your head, a small, desperate "no" slipping from your lips, barely more than a breath.

Too many emotions surged within you, too disoriented to make sense of them all. A mixture of irritation, confusion, and fear gnawed at the pit of your stomach. You could feel the heat of his body behind you, his every movement making your pulse race even faster.

Something inside you screamed to get away, but another part of you… made you hesitate, made your mind make excuses telling you to stop trying to squirm out of his grasp. Maybe it was the slight yearning you've had for his touch since you've broken up, but you couldn’t admit that to him. Let alone yourself. You hated everything about this interaction, it made you sick to your stomach and you wanted nothing more than to get away and forget all about it. Everything about this made you feel so vulnerable.

“No? Not something my pretty girl would say… You don’t have to lie, baby, I know deep down this is what you want. Isn’t it, yn?” He spoke smoothly, his voice low and almost commanding. 

You hated the way his words rang in your head, you especially hated the way your body reacted to his voice. Your legs subconsciously squeezing together before your breath caught sharply in your throat once more, feeling his hand slide from your thigh straight to the lining of your bikini bottoms. 

Gently yet urgently he tugged the cloth aside, the cool air brushing against your warm core making a small whine leave your mouth. He chuckled deeply ー his fingers wasting no time circling painfully slow motions to your swollen bud. 

"C'mon, angel, say it." He cooed softly into your ear, his chest somehow pressing even more into your back. His breath, warm and unrelenting against your skin, it made goosebumps rise across your arms and legs. You felt a chill despite the heat of his presence, your body instinctively tensing under his touch.

You knew, deep down, that no matter what you said, he wouldn't stop. That was how these situations always played out after all. But you also knew Haechan, you know the one thing he hates most is not getting what he wants, the thought of saying no and the lingering uncertainty of what he might do next made your stomach churn. 

Not knowing what else to do besides pray that one of your friends outside just a few feet away would walk in and end this before it went any further. You hesitated, your body trembling ever so slightly as you nodded, almost unwillingly.

“I… I want this,” you murmured, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop them. “Hyuck…”

He hummed softly, his warm breath fanned against your skin, sending another shiver down your spine as his lips trailed lower, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. His pace was slow, deliberate as if he was savoring every reaction he pulled from you. His teeth grazed the delicate skin just below your jaw, a teasing bite followed by the soothing heat of his tongue. All simultaneously followed by his fingers moving faster against your poor clit.

A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest, the sound low and pleased as he tilted your head further to the side, exposing more of your neck to him. His hands, warm and pace steady. You did everything in your power to fight back the little whines and moans escaping your lips, you couldn’t stand how much you loved the way he touched you, you wanted to hate this, wanted that escape still but your body completely told him otherwise. Your legs slightly shaking and hands tightly gripping the counter in front of you. 

Your noises had him smirking against your skin, his grip on your thigh tightening as he pulled you closer like he couldn't stand the thought of any space between you. His hips now rolling against you in his own desperate but steady motions. 

"You like that, don't you?" he murmured, voice dipping into something lower, rougher. His teeth grazed over the fresh mark he'd left on your skin, a silent claim, before he moved lower, trailing kisses along the curve of your shoulder.

His hand on your leg slid up your back, fingers tracing lazily over your spine before tangling into your hair. He gave it a soft tug, guiding your head back just enough for him to meet your gaze. His eyes were darker now, half-lidded as he studied you the way your lips parted, your chest rising and falling a little faster than before. 

"You're always so sensitive," he spoke, his voice dripping with amusement as he added more pressure. The pads of his fingers rough against your clit made you whimper louder than intended. "You need to be quiet, baby. Want all our friends to hear how good i make you feel?"

You weakly shook your head, your mind far too dazed to comprehend anything he was saying. The heat between your legs was unbearable, every nerve in your body still buzzing from his touch. But before you could even catch your breath, the sound of the patio door sliding open made your stomach drop.

Haechan didn't hesitate. In one swift motion, his hands were off your aching clit and immediately readjusting your swimsuit bottoms back into place, hands pulling away from you like he hadn't just been driving you insane seconds ago. His expression didn't falter, not even a flicker of guilt or hesitation crossing his features as he reached for your glass on the counter, bringing it to his lips as if this was just another casual moment.

Renjun barely had time to take in the scene as he stepped inside, his gaze flickering between the two of you. His eyes briefly landed on you— your messy hair, your flushed cheeks, the way your arms instinctively wrapped around yourself like you were trying to shrink into the background. Embarrassment weighed heavily in your posture, but Haechan? He was completely unbothered, standing there with the same nonchalant douchebag grin you were used to seeing him with. 

Renjun blinked, his confusion evident for a moment before he shrugged, deciding not to question it. Haechan, who was proud of himself for getting away with this, stepped away from you with an easy stretch, barely sparing you another glance as he made his way past Renjun. 

And just like that, he was gone, slipping back outside to join the others without so much as a second thought, leaving you standing there messy, breathless, and weirdly turned on.

For the rest of that night and the entire next day, you did everything in your power to avoid Haechan. The situation alone left you unsettled, a shiver running down your spine whenever you thought about it. You hated everything about it — the way it happened, the way it made you feel. But what you loathed most was yourself. How you let him take advantage of you like that. How fear had rooted you in place, keeping you from standing your ground.

Now, late into the night, the house was quiet. Everyone had retreated to their rooms, either fast asleep or winding down from another relaxing day. But you were restless. Lying in bed, replaying everything over and over, had become unbearable. Eventually, you’d had enough.

Slipping on a clean bikini, you made your way outside to the hot tub by the pool. The cool night air contrasted with the steam rising from the water, the moonlight reflecting off its surface in shimmering waves. The soft hum of crickets mixed with the bubbling water, a gentle, rhythmic sound that finally eased the tension gripping your body. As you sank into the warmth, the heat wrapped around you, melting away the stiffness in your muscles, a contented sigh leaving your lips. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, head tilted back as the soothing warmth of the water surrounded you. You didn’t notice the soft, subtle sound of the patio door sliding open or the quiet patter of footsteps approaching you. Your mind was too consumed by the quiet, the weight of everything else you had been trying to push aside.

But then, you felt the shift in the air as legs brushing against yours. Your head snapped up in surprise, only to meet Haechan’s gaze. A cold rush of panic ran through you, and your body tensed instantly. The chill spread down your spine as the faintest shiver of fear crawled up, uninvited. The instinct to run surged, but something about the way he was looking at you, something almost… apologetic, stopped you cold. You stayed rooted to your spot, too nervous to speak, your heart hammering in your chest as his eyes locked with yours.

Haechan studied you, his gaze narrowing slightly as he noticed the stiff tension in your posture. It hit him, a soft pang of regret, that you might be afraid of him right now. The thought twisted in his chest. He shifted, eyes dropping to the bubbles swirling in the water, giving himself a moment to collect his thoughts. When he looked back at you, his voice was gentle, almost too soft, a stark contrast to the way he last spoke to you.

“Why are you so scared? You know me better than anyone… I would never do anything to hurt you.”

His words made your stomach churn, the sudden tenderness sending an unsettling ripple through you.

The way he said it, so calm, so careful, it made your skin crawl in the worst way. It was all wrong— this soft tone wasn’t the one you were used to. Either he was always cocky and annoyed when he talked to you, or you truly haven’t heard this tone from him since you guys dated. 

You could barely manage to hold his gaze as his words hung in the air, thick with something you couldn’t place, something that felt all too fragile. Your eyes shifted back to him, your lips twisted into a small, tight frown. “Your actions say otherwise, Haechan.”

Haechan’s eyes flickered with regret. Softly, he shook his head. “I know. I’m sorry, okay? I just… I lost control. I let my thoughts get the best of me. You didn’t deserve that.”

“What’s with the sudden change? How do you go from loving me to hating me to… doing what you did and now being sorry for it? It doesn’t make sense at all.”

The words hit Haechan harder than he expected. He leaned back slightly, running a hand through his hair, frustration building. 

“I never hated you.”

“Felt like you did. And the feeling was strongly mutual.”

“No, come on, you know that’s not true.” Haechan’s voice was pleading, but it was strained with his own guilt. “You ended our relationship, your own free will, because in your words, you ‘couldn’t take this anymore.’

The fear in your demeanor quickly faded, immediately being replaced with irritation. You exhaled sharply, staring at the water for a moment to ground yourself. “You literally cheated on me,” you finally said, your voice trembling but still firm. “How do you expect me not to hate you?”

Haechan froze for a moment, his heart sinking. He knew he had done something unforgivable. He couldn’t deny that. But hearing it out loud, it was still a punch to the gut. “You cheated on me first,” he shot back, but the words felt hollow, even to him. “I just… I wanted you to feel the way I felt.”

Your expression twisted into disbelief. “What are you talking about? I never cheated on you?” You turned fully to face him now. “Even if that was true, how the fuck would two wrongs make a right?”

Haechan bit his lip, staring down at the water, avoiding your gaze. He had nothing to say to that. “I didn’t know better. I just did the first thing that came to mind. But I know the truth now, yn. You don’t need to lie about it.”

“Donghyuck,” you said softly, but it was almost like a warning. “You don’t know anything. Why would I cheat on you?”

The silence stretched for a moment, thick and heavy. Finally, Haechan looked up at you, his face softened with regret. “You tell me. I saw you unblock your ex on Instagram. His name was constantly popping up on your phone, and you were going out more often. Obviously, I assumed the worst.”

Your eyes narrowed at him once again, desperately trying to make sense of his words. “Okay… so you could’ve talked to me like a normal person?” You paused for a moment, sighing softly. 

“I unblocked him because we ran into each other at a café, and honestly, we had a nice conversation. He started texting me more because he wanted to apologize for the way he treated me and ask me how I was doing. I only started going out more because you were always hanging out with Mark, and I wanted to be with my own friends as well.”

Haechan swallowed hard, his hands now gripping the edge of the tub as if to anchor himself. “So you guys never met up again?”

“No,” you replied, your voice laced with annoyance and slight disbelief that he’d even ask. “God, fuck no. I didn’t even accept his apology. My replies to him were so dry, and I kept mentioning you so much that he gave up and stopped talking to me.”

Haechan’s face flushed with shame. His eyes softened as he let out a quiet, “oh… I’m so sorry, yn..”

You looked at him for a long moment, as if assessing him, as if trying to decide if you could still be mad. You shook your head softly, your frustration still there but it was slipping. Your shoulders sagged, as you let out a breath you didn’t realize you'd been holding. “Yeah, you should be. I can’t believe you didn't just talk to me in the first place.” Your words were more tired than angry now, but they still carried weight.

But despite it all, despite the anger and the hurt, there was a crack in your resolve. You missed him, he missed you too, and you knew that. The silence between the two of you grew heavy again as your gaze softened, just a little. 

He inched his way closer, the warmth of his palm grazing your skin as he cupped your cheek with delicate hesitation. His pleading searched yours, as if he was begging for your forgiveness.

“Yes, let me make it all up to you…” His voice was barely above a whisper, thick with something between regret and desperation.

You turned your head slightly, just enough to put distance between his touch and your resolve. “Hyuck, I don’t—”

“Please?” he interrupted, his thumb ghosting over your cheekbone. There was no force in his touch, only quiet insistence, as if the weight of his remorse alone could change your mind.

You let out a small breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your resolve crumbling at the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered. With a slow nod, your fingers found their way to his shoulders, pulling him slightly closer to you. 

That was all the permission he needed.

Without hesitation, his lips crashed onto yours, desperate yet careful, as if he was scared you’d pull away. His hands trembled slightly as they found their place, one still cradling your cheek, the other gripping your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. You could feel the way his fingers dug in, not enough to hurt, but enough to make it clear that he wasn’t letting go.

The kiss was deep, laced with something far more potent than just lust. There was an unspoken desperation, a need to feel, to forget, to forgive. Quiet hums and breathless moans melted into each other's mouths, the heat between you building with every passing second. Your fingers slipped into his hair, tugging just enough to make his breath hitch, a quiet groan vibrating against your lips.

His grip on you tightened. His hands roamed, one splayed against the small of your back, the other trailing up your side before settling just beneath your ribs, as if he needed to feel every inch of you. He let out a shaky exhale before his tongue slid past your parted lips, deepening the kiss, making it messier, hungrier. His lips moved against yours with urgency, like he was afraid to let go.

The way his body pressed flush against yours sent a heat straight to your core, your legs instinctively tightening around his waist. He couldn’t help but moan at the feeling, his restraint slipping with every desperate press of your lips, every soft gasp that fell from you.

His hands gripped your waist, lifting you effortlessly onto the edge of the hot tub. The cool air met your damp skin, sending a shiver down your spine, but his touch, his mouth on yours, burned hotter than the water that lapped at your calves.

His lips never left yours, kissing you like he could pull you deeper into him, like if he kissed you hard enough, it would erase the distance that had once existed between you. His fingers kneaded into your hips, thumbs rubbing slow, teasing circles against your skin. He swallowed your whimper, his own breath coming out unsteady as he pressed himself closer, needing more, needing you.

"Missed you so much, pretty girl... could never forgive myself for letting you go." His words were whispered against your lips, each syllable dripping with regret and longing. His voice was low, raspy, barely holding together the emotions threatening to spill over.

Before you could respond, his lips left yours, trailing soft, lingering kisses down your jaw, moving slowly and deliberately, as if savoring the moment. His breath was warm against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he nipped at the delicate flesh of your neck.

Instinctively, you tilted your head back, granting him more space to roam, your grip tightening in his hair as breathless pants and whimpers spilled from your lips.

His hands, firm yet reverent, traced down your sides as he continued his descent, mouth exploring every inch of you like he was trying to memorize the feeling all over again. Lips pressed against your shoulders, slow and sensual. His teeth grazed over your collarbone before he kissed his way lower, down the swell of your chest, your stomach, your thighs, taking his time, as if each kiss was an unspoken apology.

He missed this. He missed the way your body reacted under his touch, the way you shivered and tensed, the way your breath hitched with every kiss. His fingers caressed your skin with a delicate kind of desperation, like he was afraid you'd slip away again.

“God, you're so beautiful," he murmured against your thigh, voice drenched in need. His hands squeezed at your hips, holding you in place as he looked up at you, eyes dark with lust. He wanted to worship you, to love you in every way possible, to make you feel just how desperate he was for you, for your forgiveness.

You looked down at him, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, lips parted softly as you tried to steady the emotions rushing through you. Your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

“I missed you just as much, Hyuck," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, thick with longing. “I needed your touch more than anything."

A slow, satisfied smile curved at his lips before he leaned in, pressing delicate kisses up your thigh, inching closer, making sure you felt every lingering second of his touch.

"You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that," he murmured against your skin, lips grazing over sensitive flesh. 

Then, without breaking eye contact, he pressed a sweet, lingering kiss straight to your clothed core. The gesture was both reverent and teasing, a silent promise laced in the way he held you, the way his fingers squeezed at your sides like he was grounding himself in your presence.

"Let me take care of you, baby," he whispered, voice deep and filled with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. "I'll be gentle, the way you always liked."

His fingers traced slow, featherlight patterns along your thighs, his lips followed soon after, trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses, leaving warmth in their wake. Every motion, every touch, was deliberate like he was savoring you, worshiping you, determined to make up for every second you'd been apart.

You shivered at his words, your fingers instinctively threading through his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan softly against your skin. The heat pooling in your core only grew as he pressed another kiss over the dampened fabric between your thighs, his nose grazing against you in a way that had you biting back a whimper.

"Hyuck," you breathed out, barely able to keep yourself still under his touch.

His hands gripped your hips tighter, anchoring you in place as his lips moved deliberately, teasing, testing your patience. "Shh, baby," he murmured, his voice sending shivers straight through you. "Just let me take my time with you."

Another slow, lingering kiss against the sensitive spot between your legs had your back arching slightly, a needy whine slipping past your lips. He chuckled lowly at your reaction, pressing his mouth to your inner thigh, sucking just hard enough to leave a mark. His tongue soothed over the spot immediately after, his free hand sliding up your stomach, fingers tracing over your ribs like he needed to feel every inch of you under his touch.

"So pretty," he murmured against your skin, "Missed touching you... missed tasting you."

Your breath hitched at his words, your body reacting to every bit of his attention. His touch was gentle yet possessive, his lips slow and deliberate, as if savoring the way you trembled beneath him. His hands roamed, memorizing every dip and curve, pressing soft, warm kisses along your hips before his fingers toyed with the waistband of your soaked underwear.

"Tell me you want this," he whispered, his lips ghosting just above where you needed him most. His voice was soft, pleading, as if he needed to hear you say it, to know you wanted this just as badly as he did.

You looked down at him, eyes hazy with need, your fingers tightening in his hair as you gave the smallest nod. "I do, Hyuck," you whispered breathlessly. "I need you."

His eyes darkened at your words, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. "That's all I needed to hear, baby."

And with that, he wasted no time sliding off your bikini bottoms, tossing them aside carelessly before spreading your thighs apart, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you. Without a second thought, he dipped his face into your heat, his lips brushing the sensitive skin with an intensity that made you gasp.

You could feel the heat radiating off him as his breath fanned over you, a soft shiver running through your body. His fingers sunk into your thighs, keeping you steady as he kissed you slowly, teasingly, taking his time to savor every inch of you. You couldn't help the soft moans that escaped your lips as his tongue finally made contact with your aching clit, warm and relentless, moving in slow, deliberate strokes that had you bucking against him instinctively.

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, "You taste so fucking good," he murmured against you, his voice husky and laced with need. 

He was quick to pick up his pace, lapping at your pussy like his life depended on it. The way his mouth moved against you made you forget everything time, space, the world around you. All that mattered was the heat that coiled inside you, building with every passing second as his hands tightened their grip.

You felt yourself unraveling, the pressure in your chest mounting, the tension in your core winding tighter and tighter until you couldn't hold back any longer. The way he drove you to the edge without hesitation, without mercy, was maddening. You gripped his hair, tugging him closer, your body unable to stop itself from reacting to him.

"Hyuck.." you gasped, your voice breathless, barely a whisper as you dug your fingers into his scalp.

"Please..."

He smirked against you, the feeling of his lips curving into a grin sending another surge of heat through your body. "Please what, baby?" he teased, his voice low.

"I need you," you whimpered, barely able to keep your composure. "so bad.."

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your sensitive skin, lifting his head just enough to lick his lips with a sly grin. "Be patient, angel," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "Can you do that for me?"

You whined softly, the sound barely escaping your throat, before nodding eagerly, your body desperate for him, hips arched forward instinctively, silently begging him to continue.

He smirked, the dark gleam in his eyes full of satisfaction as he saw the way you squirmed under his gaze. "Good girl," he praised, his voice smooth like honey, almost cruel in how calm it was. "Just sit there, keep making those pretty little noises for me."

And with that, he dove back in, his mouth moving against you with newfound urgency, his tongue working you over with perfect precision. The wet sounds of his lips against your cunt mixed with the breathless moans spilling from your mouth, the pleasure so overwhelming it left your head spinning.

Your hands gripped at his hair, tugging sharply as your hips rocked forward, meeting his movements in a desperate attempt to chase the high only he could give you. He groaned at the sensation, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure shooting through your body.

Then, without warning, you felt his fingers tracing along your folds, teasing you with slow, torturous strokes.

"So wet for me," he mumbled, his breath hot against your slick skin. "You want more princess?"

You nodded frantically, your grip tightening on him.

"Please, Hyuck," you whined, your voice trembling.

A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest before he finally slipped two fingers inside you, slow and deliberate, letting you feel every inch of him. Your walls clenched around him immediately, a sharp gasp leaving your lips as he curled his finger just right, pressing against that perfect spot that had you seeing stars.

"There you go," he cooed, watching your body react to him. "Always take me so well, pretty girl."

His lips quickly made their way back to your clit, tongue flicking gently as he wrapped his lips around it, sucking you with a newfound passion. 

The sensation was overwhelming, the combination of his mouth and fingers sending a hot, electric pulse through your veins. Your legs trembled, your breath coming in ragged gasps as the pressure in your core built higher and higher, coiling so tightly you thought you might snap at any second.

"Hyuck-" you choked out, your thighs tightening around his head.

He hummed against you, the sound vibrating through your entire body as his fingers quickened their pace, fucking into you with more intensity, more purpose. He could feel you getting closer, your body tensing, your moans turning into desperate, broken cries.

"That's it, pretty," he murmured against your heat, his voice rough with desire. "cum for me, baby."

And with one last flick of his tongue and a perfectly timed curl of his fingers, you shattered. The pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as your release hit you with blinding force. Your back arched off the edge, a strangled moan tearing from your throat as he worked you through it, not stopping until your body was shaking from the overstimulation. 

Only then did he finally pull away, his fingers slipping out of you slowly, as he pressed one last kiss against your sore soaked pussy. He looked up at you, his lips glistening, a cocky smirk playing on his face.

"That's my girl," he murmured, bringing his fingers up to his lips and sucking them clean, his eyes never leaving yours. 

"I’ll never get enough of how good you taste."

love letter from mae 💌 augegsgshsj 😵‍💫,, i wanted to add more to the end but i physically cannot bring myself to.. maybe one day a pt2 will be in the works if people actually enjoy this! lmk lmk lmk!

ty for reading!! ♥︎♪ヽ(*´∀｀)ﾉ

[myshadowsbackstage]

Repercussions | Suna x Reader.

Summary: Everything was fine until Rintarou decided to say that. And you get him, you really do, so you try to do him a favor. You're doing Rintarou a favor, so why does he feel like he wants to punch Atsumu anytime he sees you two together.

College! au, gn! reader, platonic! Atsumu, angst with a happy ending (I think). Inarizaki is a college team because why not.

W/c: 5,5k

a/n: Hello! I really hope you enjoy your reading. English isn't my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes. Also, this is -literally- my first piece of fiction in like... at least 6 years, so any *constructive* feedback is highly appreciated.

You were doing your way to the kitchen when you heard him.

Suna and you went to a birthday party of a friend of yours, and at some point during the night you and him got separated. You went to play with some of your friends while he stayed talking to a group of guys he met that night that really seemed to like him. 

After dancing and fooling around you felt the need for a glass of water, so you went to the kitchen looking for something to satiate your thirst. 

You heard a masculine voice. "It's like once you start a relationship, any sense of freedom it's just gone". Laughter, and another voice "Like when they cling to your arm or something, and it's like, God, just let me breathe for once"

His voice. 

And you swear, a punch to the gut would have been less painful. Still, you didn't stop walking and went to the kitchen anyway. A sudden silence filled the room and that seemed to make the voices in your head louder. 

Should I say something? Confront him. Go away. Say something. How could you act like nothing happened? What the fuck do I say to that. I want to cry. I wanna scream. Punch him. Fucking punch him. How could I? How could he?

God, you were dizzy.

"Hey, y/n" His voice was shaking, you could almost see his face just by hearing him. Twisted in an uncomfortable grimace "Everything alright?"

"Yes" You didn't dare looking at his face, working on autopilot while taking a bottle of juice to serve yourself. 

"Cool... Cool, are you having fun? Do you need anything?" And that switched something inside of you because how could he dare to play dumb like that.

You looked him in the eye and seeing the unshed tears burning in your eyes finally shut him up.

"No, I'm fine"

Without wanting to spend another second in that place, you left the bottle on the counter, fighting not to squeeze the vase in your hand while you got away from that place.

But who were you fooling, you were never good at pushing your feelings away. You wore your heart on your sleeve. Even if you didn't want to, the tears escaped, so you just left the vase on a table on the way to the bathroom, praying for it to be empty.

In the kitchen, Suna stood up, not knowing what to do. The silence kept stretching, and he was a moment away from tearing his hair with his own hands.

What possessed him to say such a thing, he had no idea. He didn't mean it, of course he didn't mean it, but the guys were joking, and being received so easily by a group of people wasn't something that happened to Suna a lot, he just wanted to be a part of it.

But not at the expense of you. Never again at the expense of you. Seeing the betrayal in your eyes made him realize what a stupid thing left his mouth just to be seen as cool by a bunch of random guys whom he would probably never see again.

So he went after you.

He knew you enough to know that you would look for a quiet place to let loose, and considering that this was supposed to be a party, he knew there weren't a lot of places to do that, so he went for the most obvious place to go in this situation.

He knocked on the door three times. "Hey, y/n, are you there?" The music and laughter around the place almost didn't let him hear it, but there they were. Soft sniffles coming from the other side of the door. He kept knocking and calling your name a few times, until he thought that it would be better to let you have your space for a while before trying to do anything about it.

He came back to the kitchen, where the group was still dealing with the tension in the air. When they saw Suna's face, they gave up. 

"Hey, you okay?" Asked one of them.

"I think so... I don't know" Another tsked and awkwardly patted Suna's shoulder.

"Give them some time"

"Yeah" another interjected "They're gonna get over it in no time"

And if you asked him at that moment, he wouldn't have been able to pinpoint what it was. Maybe it was the look on your face when he saw you, the tears dwelling on your eyes, the way your voice strangled in an attempt not to waver, or your sniffles through the door, maybe the image of you, hiding in a bathroom sobbing all by yourself, or maybe that it was all his fault, but something snapped inside of him.

"No, you see? That's the problem. I don't have to wait for them to move on, I can't wait for them to move on. That's not the way you treat a partner. If you fuck up, then you make up for it, you don't get to continue your life as if nothing happened. I mean, if you really prefer to get away with being an asshole, and not suffer the consequences of that, rather than speaking to your partner, why the fuck do you have one in the first place?"

Most of the guys averted their eyes. Some were pretending to drink, while others suddenly picked an interest in the room's decoration, but not one of them could look Rintarou in the eye.

"Chill, dude, we we're just trying to–" 

"Save it"

After that, Suna got up and went wandering around the house, ignoring everyone and wondering  Now, what the fuck do I do now? 

He tried, he really tried, but his own body was reacting to the guilt, and he was sure his stomach were not gonna be able to handle another minute of being on your bad side, so he came back to the bathroom.

He could still hear you. Softer. Calmer. But still going. He knocked again.

"Y/n?" 

Silence.

"I know you probably don't want to see me right now, but... I really regret saying that, if you could let me...  Please, just hear me out, I can't–" Suna's own voice staggered "I can't bear to be like this. Please. Let me fix this"

The lock clicked, and the door barely opened. Enough to let him know that he could enter, but not enough to even see inside. He still pushed, and once inside, closed and locked the door again to not be disturbed.

Then he saw you.

Curled up, hugging your own knees, hiding your face in them while trying to control your breathing. Suna wanted to hold your hands, your face, touch in any way to reassure you. Somehow. However, he knew better. You barely let him inside, going straight to physical touch would be anything but the smart choice, so he put his back on the door and slid to the floor. Giving you some distance.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean it. Really, I didn’t” Ashamed, he cast his eyes to the floor, picking the skin around his nails. “I just… the guys were joking, and I didn’t want to be left out like I always do, and I know it sounds absolutely dumb to use that as an excuse, because it is. But…” He crawled a little, getting closer, still not daring to touch you. “I promise, I love whenever you hug me, or take my arm, or anything, just anything really. I adore how you are so unapologetically you, and just show your love the way you want to, and I would have never accepted being your boyfriend if that weren’t the case, okay?” Just then he made his first attempt, putting his hands on your knees, caressing in little circles, and getting gradually closer to your head, aiming to take off your face from its hiding spot “Please, don’t do that. Don’t hide from me, I want to see your–”

“How am I supposed to believe that?” Suna went silent, and it was that which made you look up to him. “How am I supposed to believe that my boyfriend isn’t sick of me when he speaks like that so easily to a stranger? Was it because they wouldn’t snitch on you? They don’t know me, don’t own me anything, why would they tell me about it?”

“No, no, it wasn’t like that–”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am sure!”

Another silence filled the air. Both of you looking at each other’s faces, panting. Suna was the first to sigh, trying to lower the volume of his voice.

“You don’t believe me, I get it. Which is why I need you to look me in the eye when I say this” At that, he held your face, forcing eye contact “I did not mean it. Just wanted to belong to that shitty group for an hour, and it was one of the worst mistakes I have ever made, only surpassed by that time I chickened out on asking you on a date, so I had to watch fucking Omimi shooting his shot instead, thank God that really didn’t go anywhere, because I swear those were the worst six months of my life” You couldn’t help to laugh a little, remembering that messy time for you and your relationship with the Inarizaki team. “And now I got to be the person you should rely on, and I fuck it up.” Suna laughs humorlessly “Forgive me, please. I know it may be too much to ask, but give me the opportunity to show you I really care”

You fell back, away from his touch and wiped out your tears before answering. “I want to, I really want to, but Rin…” A nickname. Suna thought there might be hope after all “What guaranteed do I have of this not happening again? Hell, how do I know you won’t be trash mouthing me anytime we get separated?”

“I won’t”

“But how do I know that?”

“You’ll feel it”

“What are you talking about?” You were sure Suna hit himself in the head at some point during the last 10 seconds of your conversation, but then he took your hands, his grip was firm, a bit harsh even, desperate. 

“I’ll be the best boyfriend I can be, I’ll let you feel how important you are to me, you’ll feel how much I love you, and your hugs, and kisses, and pats, anything you give me. You’ll never doubt yourself again. You hear me?”

Part of you still was unsure about the situation, but Suna had that look on his face. The one where his eyes opened up just a little bit more, and his lips parted. Lowering all of his defenses to show that his intentions were true.

“Okay”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” At that, he couldn’t restrain himself anymore and enveloped you in a hug, caressing your hair with one of his hands, allowing you to rest on his chest, smelling that perfume you adored so much.

“I am not disappointing you again.”

Truth is, Suna was true to his word. After getting out of the bathroom, he spent the rest of the night with you, just talking, drinking a little bit, even dancing for a bit when you asked him to under the pretence of atoning for his sins.

However, something inside you still felt unsure. Suna swore up and down that something like that would never happen again, and it got you wondering, if something like that were to actually bother him one day, would he tell you?

Because it wasn’t a lie when you said he wasn’t the most touchy person before he got with you, and that was something you both knew. Part of you still thought that maybe, just maybe, part of what Suna said at the party was true, and he felt uncomfortable with you being glued to him any chance you got.

And since he did his part in showing you how much he cared for you, you decided to do him a favor.

You would do it gradually. Suna is a perceptive person, any abrupt change would startle him immediately, and you would also allow yourself some things. You wouldn’t compromise hugging while sleeping, or napping, you liked that way too much, but perhaps holding his hand when you were sitting at some table on campus wasn’t that necessary. Nor was holding his arms when you were watching movies, for a few scenes maybe, just not the whole thing. Hugging his back when he was cooking was kind of uncomfortable, but you still could do it while waiting for the water to boil whenever you made tea.

Yeah, you could do it. 

The smell of the gym was something you were long accustomed to. The humidity in the air by sweaty bodies jumping and running non stop was something that didn’t make you flinch anymore. Not that much, at least.

Suna and you were holding hands when you entered. Some of the guys were warming up, others chit chatting here and there. Atsumu was about to enter the court, ball already in his hands when he saw you.

“Y/n!”

“Tsumu!” You let go of your boyfriend’s hand and run to hug your best friend. Atsumu and you used to be aware of each other, seeing one another on campus a few times, but you didn’t get close until you started your thing with Suna, when your company during practice became part of the routine. At the beginning, it was a bit awkward, you could tell Atsumu didn’t like your presence very much, thinking you were going to be a distraction for the middle blocker, but if anything, Suna wanted to impress you, so he stopped lacking off any chance he got, and suddenly Atsumu thought that maybe having you there wasn’t so bad after all. He started being nicer to you and the rest was history, you two connected in a way you haven’t with any other person in university.

“You okay? How’s Sunarin treating you? Had he done something to punch him?” You laughed, not letting go of him.

“Sorry, but you’ll have to keep waiting”

“Damn, when is the universe giving me an opportunity to smack the guy?” You heard Suna letting go of a sigh at Atsumu’s antics.

“If anything happens, I’ll let you know”

“Please”

You let go of him and went to your usual spot on the bench. The guys started practice and you used the time to read.

This was all part of your routine. The guys knew you would always be there during practice , and since you would be sitting in silence, without distracting any of the guys, the coach allowed it. Every break you would seize the opportunity to go and pamper your boyfriend, or even better, pester Atsumu. Neither the guys, nor Suna said anything about it, you didn’t want to let them know. To let him know.

Two weeks pass by, and something in the back of Suna’s mind starts to nag at him. He can’t tell what it is, but there is definitely something different between you two. You keep accompanying him to practice, he stills waits for you at the station so you can go to class together, you two still wait for the other, depending on who finish class later that day, you two still go to each other’s houses and sleep hugging each other, you still talk, and message the other when you’re not together, then what is it?

You two enter the gym, and before he can process it, you let go of him to go say hi to Atsumu. When he sees you two, his stomach does something. He knows it’s not jealousy, because he would trust his life to you, and even if he would never say it out loud, the truth is, he trusts Atsumu too, he knows nothing romantic would ever happen between the two of you. So why? Why does he feel so aware of the way your arms are wrapped around each other, noticing how you just don’t let go, which of course you don’t, you never do, you love too much to do that, that was one of the reasons he fell in love with you in the first place. That never ending love that made everyone around you feel seen.

He doesn’t have the energy to keep thinking about it, he doesn’t want to, so he just puts out his phone and scrolls on social media while you talk to Atsumu on the court, waiting for practice to officially start. You don’t get to see Atsumu that much outside of practice, so he doesn’t intend to ruin that for you. Not now, not during breaks. Not last week, not this week, and he doesn’t do it either the next week. He just takes his phone and sets his eyes on the screen, nothing but the screen. He knows if he allows himself to go with any of the guys, he would inevitably see the two of you, and if he sees you, then he has to think about what makes him so… he doesn’t even know what he is feeling right now, a sense of loss he doesn’t know where is coming from, that started only when he was in practice, but 3 days ago, it started to plague his mind during the rest of the day, and he can’t bear to feel any of that.

When it comes to you, the truth is, you don’t realize what you’re doing. In your mind, your plan to give Suna his space is going on with flying colors. He has not said anything, and looks as calm as ever, so you must be doing it right. The problem is, you love to be touchy, you just can’t help it, you love to hold and be held, give and receive, you need it. And if your body can’t have your boyfriend, then somebody else needs to fill that need.

Osamu does realize it though. So does Kita, and Aran, and Ginjima, and the whole team really. 

Yes, even Atsumu.

He hasn’t asked about it, because he knows that if something bothers you that much, you would tell him, but lately things seems to have spiraled in this weird setting where the moment you step on the gym, Suna ceases to exist, and he looks absolutely unbothered by it, burying himself in his phone, and not speaking with anyone on the team. Even the coach went to Kita asking if everything was alright, or if he should intervene. Shinsuke reassured him that they would handle the situation.

“How’s it going?”

“Nothing”

“Should we intervene?”

“I’m not sure” Atsumu replied. Osamu was across from him, arms crossed, pretending to look at the court while actually having an eye on Suna, who was playing something on his phone while you were in the bathroom.

“It’s been almost three weeks”

“I know, but I’m not sure how to approach it. They hadn’t told me anything about it”

“Well, ask, then.” 

Atsumu growled. “It’s not that easy”

“Yes, it is”

“You do it, then”

“Okay, but what if…” At that, Atsumu looked at his brother, interested. “You talk to y/n, and I go talk to Rin, how’s that?” Atsumu sighed, thinking about it.

“Okay”

Another three days pass by before the perfect moment to have that conversation appears. Coach called for a short break, yet Osamu noticed how he picked up a call and after asking who was he walking to, his face changed and he went away for a bit of privacy. Surely the call would take a bit of time. He sees Atsumu talking to you on a bench, while you play absentmindedly with his hair. Atsumu feels the drilling look of his brother and as soon as Osamu gets his brother’s attention, he makes a quick nod at Suna and a thumbs up. Atsumu gives a quick wink at his brother, acknowledging the situation, and as Osamu makes his way to Rin, he sees how Atsumu takes your hand and guides you to a quieter corner of the gym.

“Hey”

“Hey” Suna doesn’t take his eyes away from the screen.

“How’s it going?”

“Good. You?” Osamu laughs and nudges the middle blocker.

“Nah, don’t bullshit me, I know you better than that and you know it”

For the first time in what feels like forever, Rintarou takes his eyes away from the phone. “I don’t know”

“You don’t know?” Osamu was at the verge of teasing him, but as soon as he sees the troubled look on his friend, he decides against it.

“Honestly, I don’t know, it’s just…”

Osamu tries to help him, tentatively. “Does it have to do with y/n?” Suna looked down.

“Yeah” There was silence for a moment. Osamu didn’t dare press any further. “I… I really don’t know how to talk about this, everything seems fine, but… but it doesn’t feel fine. It’s… something’s been off for a while, and I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Haven’t you tried to talk with them about it?”

“No. I mean… It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that… I don’t know what would I say to them. ‘Hey, I feel you’re mad at me, even though you act the same as always’ doesn’t seem to cut it” Osamu plays with his fingers, wanting to play dumb as much as he can.

“I mean, if it has you feeling like this even at practice, maybe they haven’t really been acting the same as always.” Suna hums and Osamu decides he may need to pick a bit deeper if he wants to get something out of Rin. “Does this have to do with my brother?”

Rintarou sighs and puts his phone aside, putting his feet on the same table as his, and letting his elbows rest on his knees. “Is it that obvious?”

“You want me to answer that honestly?” They both laugh softly, and Suna seems to relax for a bit, knowing Osamu wouldn’t judge him for being honest.

“Yes, it has to do with Atsumu, but at the same time… no? Ugh, I don’t even know what I’m saying”

“Tsumu, what are you doing?”

“Just wanted to have a conversation without any monkey interrupting us” You would have laughed, but the implications of that sentence put you on some kind of edge.

“A conversation? Atsumu, is everything alright?” 

“I don’t know, you tell me” There is a beat of silence, the confusion written all over your face.

“What?”

“God, I didn’t want to ask like this but… I can tell something has been bothering you, and you know I don’t like to pry, and I trust you would tell me if anything serious is going on, but I know there is something you aren’t telling me, or anyone for that matter. What is it?” You put on a facade a second to late, he noticed the way you tried to evade his gaze before giving him a little smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”

“Yes, you do”

And it was the look on his eyes. The way his voice was so assertive without being accusatory. Not judging, not attacking, just stating a fact. And it could have been any other of the guys, you would have kept pretending, but this was Atsumu. Atsumu who managed to win you even after giving you the cold shoulder the first time he saw you. Atsumu who would always make sure you were feeling comfortable and welcomed anywhere as long as he was present. Atsumu who would take your side anytime you had a fight with Suna even if he knew you were in the wrong just because you needed the support. This was your friend.

“It feels like he’s getting all the attention” Getting those words out of his mouth felt as if rocks made their way slowly from Suna’s stomach to his mouth. He felt absolutely embarrassed. “In private I still get the hugs, and… that stuff, but whenever we’re here it’s just… I become a background character or something, a fucking npc or whatever”

“Does this happen only with Atsumu?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think so, even if he’s busy they manage to be with someone else, being all touchy and fuck, it sounds so shitty, but I swear, it doesn’t bother that they are doing it, it’s just…” The sentence hung up in the air, but Osamu got perfectly what  Rintarou was trying to say.

It was messy, but he knew his friend enough to know he would rather drink a bottle of vinegar in one go before admitting that he just wanted physical touch.

“When was your last fight?”

“Our last fight?

“Yeah, or a discussion, anything really”

“Uh… I don’t know, like three months, maybe”

“What was it about?”

“It was about…” Osamu looked at Suna’s face, trying to recall when was the last time you had an actual fight and not a discussion about what show you would be watching before sleeping, and he could swear he saw the exact moment the gears in his friend’s mind started to work. “Motherfucker”

“What is it?”

“That fucking party” Osamu waited “We got separated, I was mingling with a bunch of guys, we were just talking, but they started speaking about how annoyed they felt at their partners sometimes, and…stupid me, just because I wanted to say something, I basically said that I would get annoyed by them hanging onto me any chance, or something like that. Doesn’t matter really.” Suna sighed, “Thing is, they heard me.” Osamu stayed there, suddenly very aware that they were supposed to still be in practice and praying to all the gods for the coach not to come back yet. Not when the conversation got that serious. “I apologize, we spoke about it, I told them I didn’t mean it, I just wanted to… participate, I guess.” Another moment of silence, Suna’s gaze glued to the floor “Now that I think about it, this has been going on ever since”

“I see…”

“You’re not gonna say anything else?”

“I want to say a lot of things, but most of them aren’t very nice, and ultimately, I think you already know them” Suna let out a bitter laugh.

“I guess you’re right”

They both let another moment pass, settling their emotions.

“Well, at least you solved the mystery, now you can say you want their attention without looking like you are constipated”

“I did not look like that”

“Yes, you did, but it’s okay, because now you have an actual argument to backup that feeling”

“I guess… Fucking Atsumu, getting all of the attention”

“Of course, you know he would never reject them”

“You think y/n told him anything? He seems pretty oblivious about it” For Suna’s sake, Osamu chose not to point out that, in fact, Rintarou hasn’t looked at anything his teammates has been doing for the past weeks. 

“Judging by his expression, I think he found out about 5 seconds ago” Rintarou followed the gaze of Osamu and found Atsumu holding both of your hands. He couldn’t see your face, but he could see Atsumu’s clenched jaw, and his overall tense posture.

Suna sighed again “Considering this may be my final moments, just so you know, you were always my favorite Miya” Osamu lets out a laugh so deep, it reverberates throughout the gym, gaining the attention of some of the members as the coach came back.

“I already knew that”

“Okay, guys, sorry for the tardiness, let’s come back, come on!”

Both guys got up, and before entering the court, Osamu squeezed Suna’s shoulder.

“I’m here whatever happens, okay? Don’t forget that”

Practice finished with… a sort of tension. Suna could tell Atsumu was trying to pretend everything was normal, but he has always been shit at acting, so every person in the gym could tell something was up with him, while Osamu was the only one ignoring his twin’s antics and actually acting like everything was fine. To Suna, that made the situation even more disturbing.

Once the coach signaled the end of practice, Suna almost ran for his things. When he got out of the lockers, he saw Atsumu talking to you, doing gestures with his hands and moving his mouth at a speed that made Suna dizzy even through the distance. When Atsumu saw Rintarou, he stopped abruptly, making you turn away and give him a tight smile. If he wasn’t so nervous already he would have burst his ass laughing at Atsumu’s cartoonish ways.

While he made his way to you, Atsumu gave you a quick hug and just a wave to Rintarou as he made his way to his brother.

“Do you want to go for some ice cream?” He asked suddenly. You looked at him a little confused, yet seeing his face, a sort of mutual understanding passed through both of you.

“I would love to”

Shyly, you extended your hand. He took it, intertwining your fingers, and giving a soft squeeze. 

As you walked to your favorite ice cream shop, the streets seemed to have a little more color, the air felt a little more fresher, the neighbourhood was a little bit quieter.

“Rin…”

“Yes?”

“I’d like to talk to you”

“I’d like that too” Both of you squeeze the other’s hand “Would you like to begin?”

“Yes.” He gave you your time. “I know I haven’t been the best to you lately, I’ve been acting weirdly, and I know you noticed, and we just haven’t addressed the situation, and god, I hate we let it get to this point. We should’ve… I should’ve talked to you sooner” Suna nodded his head a little, showing he was listening “To be honest… I’ve been feeling insecure because… well, I… You…”

“Y/n” He interrupted softly “Does this have to do with what I said at that party?” You let the air you were holding out, relieved that he was willing to address the situation.

“Yes.”

“Okay” Suna kept quiet again, waiting for you to elaborate from there.

“To be honest, I still feel insecure about it. I know you told me, and even insisted that you didn’t mean it, and whatnot, but it made me think perhaps there were times where you didn’t want to be touched all the time, but you didn’t tell me just so you wouldn’t hurt my feelings. And Rin, I would hate to make you feel uncomfortable, or that you need to suck up with things you don’t like just for my sake. I thought… I wanted to do you a favor by giving you space, because I know that is something you appreciate.”

Suna bit his lip, nodding “I’m sorry”

“What for?”

“Because you shouldn’t be feeling like this. I told you that day I would make you feel appreciated and it looks like I failed again. Even worse, I knew there was something, I didn’t talk to you about it sooner ‘cause I haven’t figured it out yet, if you had asked me before, I wouldn’t have known what to say. But I knew there was something, and maybe I should have tried to figure this out with you, not wait for it to be something so big, and drag you through this feeling for so long.” At this point, Suna stopped walking and took both of your hands, facing you. “I’ve been such a shitty boyfriend, and I hate it.”

“Don’t say that”

“But it’s true, isn’t it?” He held your face with one of his hands, tender, while the other held your hands firmly “I love so much, and you let me show it to you any way I want. I always thought that I would do the same for you, and I’ve been doing anything but. Just stop this. I want it. I want all of you. Hughes, kisses, pats, cuddles, everything. I’m sorry it took me losing that to appreciate it, I really am. So, please, if it’s something you want to give me, if you are still willing to give it to me… I would really appreciate that.” In that last sentence, Rintarou’s voice broke a bit, and it was all that it took for you to slide your arms around him, giving gentle caresses on his head, encouraging him to nuzzle in your neck.

“I would love to, Rin” You stayed there for a bit, just holding each other. Drinking on that moment of intimacy at plain sight.

“I don’t deserve you”

“Oh, stop it” You let go, laughing. He gave you a little yet relaxed smile in return. Everything seemed to fall into place again. “C’mon now” You took one of his hands, and started walking again “I really could do with some ice cream right now.”

[callme-holly]

I wanted to know how The Outsiders would feel if they brought the reader to Build-A-Bear might have to be like maybe a modern-day Outsiders or, like the reader asked, to go☺️

𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝-𝐚-𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫

a/n: this was so cute omggg. also just a heads up my masterlist is too long to add anything so i will need to make a new one eventually!! i will get round to it i swear

Darry Curtis:

Darry would be pretty confused when you first ask if he can take you; he’d always assumed Build-A-Bear was something for kids and that you were far too old to be going. But when he sees how excited you are, he can’t really say no. He’s mainly there to keep an eye on you and to make sure you don't spend too much money. He might make little comments on outfits, and if you insist, he might just get matching bears with you so that yours doesn't get lonely. Despite not having the money, he’ll still pay for everything, telling you not to worry about it and to consider it a date.

Sodapop Curtis:

Soda is totally down to go to Build-A-Bear with you and is probably just as excited to go. He’ll be bouncing off the walls, helping you pick out everything and treating it like it’s a much bigger deal than it actually is.  When it comes down to that silly ritual they make you do with the hearts, he’s encouraging you to do it with him so that the bear has just as much love from both of you. It pretty much becomes your guys’ child, and he will get a bear for himself so that it can match outfits with yours.

Ponyboy Curtis:

Pony is pretty embarrassed about going at first, but he doesn’t turn down the offer of going. He’ll act all sheepish when you drag him inside, but the second he sees everything and just how bright it is, he relaxes and is thrilled to be there. He’s the sort to spend forever picking out the perfect bear and overthinking every single option. If there's a tiny loose thread, he’ll put it back. You need to have the best one there. He’s also a sucker for the little scents they do as well as the audio recordings. 

Johnny Cade:

He’s a little unsure at first, but he’ll agree to go nonetheless and actually adores it. He loves how excited you get the second you walk in, and he can honestly understand why. He’ll help you pick out the softest bear you can find (I'm picturing that little stuffed black dog) and is thrilled to help you pick out outfits. He doesn’t smile the whole time; it probably unlocks some sort of childish feelings in him because he never got to experience anything like it as a kid. Lets you pick the same and is happy with anything, but he’ll hold on to it forever. 

Dallas Winston:

Dallas is so against going at first because he thinks it’s childish and dumb and a massive bruise on his tough ego. When you eventually drag him along anyway, he’ll grumble and complain the whole time about how “damn expensive everything is”, but he will still help you pick out a bear if you ask. He’ll just sort of follow you around, offering half-hearted support and teasing you when you have to do the heat ceremony thing. If you want help picking outfits, the only thing he’s concerned about is the price of it. Don't ask him for name suggestions unless you want something utterly ridiculous. 

Steve Randle:

Steve is surprisingly way too excited about making a bear with you and makes it such a big deal. He’ll pick out cool outfits that are either sports or somehow car-related, helping you dress the bear and parading it around like a trophy.  He’ll tease you for all your choices but   thinks its cute and will insist on getting one of the little scented things. He’s all for going all out, but if you try to buy the bear an entire wardrobe, he’ll have to stop you and remind you that he’s the one paying for everything. He’ll give you ridiculous name suggestions and will treat the bear like his child.

Two-Bit Mathews:

He thrives in Build-A-Bear; it’s like taking a small child along. Everything excites him, and he’ll be all over helping you pick out a bear. He’ll consider every single option, and when you finally settle on one, he acts like he’s just completed a serious mission. Chooses mismatched outfits and ones that he considers “tuff”. Will probably get the bear sunglasses and a leather jacket too. He’s obsessed with the sound boxes, and you know for a fact he’s recording some stupid, secret message to hide in your bear. 

[bonefall]

Silvermoon and Bloodmoon are about to have a GREAT time at the movies

[ID: A gif of two warrior cat OCs, Silvermoon and Bloodmoon, in a hot pink car. The car's wheel is on the right side because the car is British.]

COME ON BARBIE LET'S GO PARTY

[seventh-district]

Figured I'd try my hand at some Redacted character post/text edits!

[ 1 / ? ]

Credit to @/sainthowlzon for all the Listener icons, and to @/elisacaleisa for their google drive with all the canon icons!

(slightly alternative version of the Solaires' GC edit below the cut bc i had a lil too much fun with what Vincent would name his contacts)

[childofthestone]

the surnames suck too btw

[primus-why]

I Feel TFOne Could've Handled This Better...

Hot take but I feel like folks have been really generous with the take that OP was unable to find ~the perfect words~ in the heat of the moment (and thus should be given some grace) when he told D to stand down and "not be like Sentinel"... namely cuz I don't feel that the narrative supports this?

Like-- after all is said and done, OP doesn't reflect on that part of their split. He doesn't have a moment where he seeks validation or voices his regrets over the choice of his words, it's actually cut-and-dry. The narrative (as it stands) supports that OP saw D-16 acting up, so he called him out and stood on business, down to the last scenes where he's basically like "yeah it's a shame but y'all knew I had to do it to 'em."

It didn't have to be much! I'm not saying to absolve Megs, just show OP looking at things from a different perspective/contemplating a bit on that tough choice and the morality of the moment. Some examples of what I wish we had:

B-127 straight up blurting the obvious by later chatting with Orion like, "Wait so you told your best friend that he was acting just as bad as the guy who enslaved us for our entire lives and was torturing him like an hour ago? Oof. Seems kinda harsh." Then have some of OP's regret show on his face.

OP asking Elita-1 after Megs is banished if he did the right thing. Have Elita back his choice up, saying, "You should have seen what he did after you were... gone. It was terrifying. I know it was tough, but you made the right call." OP is grateful for the support, but a conflicted look still flashes across his face before he steels himself to look out towards the horizon... and the future.

Have OP walk past other mechs/former miners who didn't go with the High Guard saying stuff like, "Wish I could've given Sentinel a piece of my mind!" "Yeah, but I'm glad he's gone for good." "Ugh I miss everything." "Oh, it was crazy! Megatron picked him up and then he rrrrriiipped-- oops, hey there, Mr. Optimus... Prime... sir?" And have OP wave hello, looking a bit sick when they leave.

Post-credits scene with Starscream going on and on, asking Megs when they'll be back to teach the upstart Prime a lesson. Megs grabs his face to shut him up. "Patience, Starscream. The Prime thinks I'm no better than Sentinel... but I'll show him. He wants Iacon? He can have it. In the meantime we'll take the rest of the planet! Then I'll come back, crush Prime under my heel, and we'll take Iacon too. Sentinel's reign will barely be a footnote, because I'm about to become Optimus Prime's worst nightmare." The vocal performance would really need to sell this-- like picture Megs saying something like that from a place of anger and hurt, not so much a place of genuine evil or malice.

Basically instead of Orion's assertion being backed up as black and white/good vs bad, I wish we had some different opinions/reactions from the characters sprinkled in there. Like you can't tell me out of allllll the miners who weren't strong enough/willing to go with the High Guard and ended up sticking around that NONE of them were like "eyyo honestly?? Kiiiiinda glad Sentinel is dead. Wish I could have helped, tbh." like come onnnnn...

And you can't even argue that he's not an active threat-- I don't think everyone would see things that way! It's not just about the threat he physically has, but the threat he represents and is very likely to act upon if given the opportunity! He has a proven track record of not only being sneaky and conniving, but also capable of dealing some serious damage/killing people bigger and stronger than him, plus he has the backing of the Quints. All he'd need to do is wriggle his way out of jail and run off to his sponsors, then he'd probably be back to hurt more people! (If the Quints didn't just kill him out of incompetence lmao). There's a lot of "ifs" here, but I think it's a valid argument that not everyone would agree on what is the right or wrong way to handle Sentinel once he was down long enough to, like, do something about him.

I feel the situation needed a bit of nuance. In some way I wish they had kicked the can and had D and Orion bicker while Sentinel escaped, then have D get frustrated enough by the loss of Sentinel to point fingers (and his fusion canon) at Orion, who then falls and becomes OP. (Megs could still show some of thar emotion/remorse right after he does it too.) Not only would this open the door for a sequel, but tbh the Quint might have just killed Sentinel anyways and sought to deal with the miners uprising themselves lol. (Maybe that could have been an after credits scenes too instead of the B-127 bit??)

Would love to see a moment in a sequel where they have a calmer moment after arguing for a bit. Have OP mention how Megs was out of line, that it hurt and even scared him to see him act that way, and Megs can quietly point out "you said I was as bad as Sentinel... is that really how you see me? After everything we went through?"

Then OP can fumble the bag again lmao like "D, I... I'm sorry, that didn't come out right... but you still took things way too far..."

"Why am I not surprised-- your opinion is what matters the most! Maybe that's why you became a Prime, since you're so good at acting like the world revolves around you--!"

*gets interrupted by someone else before another yelling match ensues*

[darlingcloudie-9]

woe; my kny self insert be upon ye 😾😾

isn’t she cool like

[sysig]

Cards 👏 cards 👏 cards 👏 (Patreon)