#Second chance Romance

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Tainted

Steddie || wc: 3k || rating: E || cws: DEAD DOVE DNE, steve harrington whump, Vampire!Eddie, post break up second chance, blood (like a lot of blood), blood drinking, chronic pain and illness, heavy angst, THE HAPPY ENDING IS HERE! || ao3

Part 1

Steve wakes up to someone pounding on his front door.

It’s well into the night, which means he’s been out for at least an hour. Dried lube flakes from his skin as he shifts his legs to stand. He reaches up over his head and points the tips of his toes, stretching a full-body ache that finally feels satisfying instead of vaguely awful.

The pounding continues and Steve starts to wonder why Robin even bothers before it stops. Steve rolls over onto his side, landing in a puddle of something cold soaked into his carpet. He’ll have a hell of a lot of scrubbing to do in the morning, but at least this time Steve won’t have to replace the carpet of an entire room again.

He sits up to flick on the small lamp sitting on the end table next to him. A small red patch of blood is puddled under where Steve woke up, with a stream of red dots sprayed out into the middle of the floor. He wonders why the wounds from nail punctures haven’t healed yet as he reaches up to his neck. Sure enough, the top two fangs hang haphazardly from his throat. When he pulls the contraption free, a fresh stream trickles hot down his chest, wetting his chest hair next to the matted patches of dried snot and tears.

Fucking pathetic.

Steve balls the blanket up in his hands and holds it firm against the bite. Cold and sticky, he heads towards the bathroom when he hears the sound of a key slotting into his door.

In unbridled panic– the slow trickle rising to a steady flow– Steve’s never been more aware of his own body. Completely naked, covered in an array of various fluids, bright red blood soaking into the oversized white blanket. He turns and rakes his eyes over the absolute shit show crime scene in the living room, including the paraphernalia.

This is the last thing he wants Robin to see, let alone Vickie. They don’t deserve to see him like this.

“Wait!” Steve shouts, untangling a stretch of blanket from his neck to hang in front of him like a disgusting shower curtain. At least it blocks most of the horror show. “Don’t come in!”

The door swings open.

Steve can’t quite see through the dark hallway, but the lack of greeting tells him it’s not Robin. He’s frozen to the floor, legs filled with cement as he watches the person close the door behind them. Their silhouette’s shrouded in darkness. Inside, Steve’s screaming to run, even as the dark shadow rushes towards him faster than he’s ever seen.

Faster than any human.

Red eyes and a mess of curly hair cloud his vision. It’s been so long since he’s seen or touched Eddie that Steve’s skin breaks out in violent goosebumps when he feels sharp claws wrap gently around his biceps and squeeze.

“You smell…” Eddie’s ragged voice tapers off. He’s on edge, and Steve can’t help but wonder how many feedings he’s missed. Steve catches the bobbing of Eddie’s throat as he swallows the saliva Steve knows is pooling at the back of his throat. He’s hungry. But there’s also a slight tilt to his brow and a pool of tears on his lower lash line, illuminated by the moonlight filtered through the curtain.

Steve instinctively swipes his thumb across Eddie’s cheek in comfort. His own unwarranted sympathy churns his stomach. “You look awful.”

Eddie’s laugh is self-deprecating at best and pained at worse. He nuzzles into the warmth of Steve’s hand and shudders, lingering at Steve’s wrist. A slow, high-pitched whine escapes between Eddie’s parted lips as he starts to mouth up Steve’s arm.

It’s Steve’s deepest fantasies come to life. He’s desperate for Eddie’s touch, pining for mouths and hands and slick, sweaty skin rubbing together. Eddie’s whine is even more beautiful than Steve remembers and the sound goes straight to his dick, which twitches with renewed vigour.

This is all wrong. He tries to remind himself this is a reality where Eddie left him, high and dry, to move across the country and never speak to him again. The man in front of him isn’t his anymore, and maybe never was to begin with. Maybe everyone was right about Steve falling under some kind of blood spell. He can’t help wondering now if no one stopped to consider if Eddie’d fallen under his own spell, craving Steve every time hunger cramped his stomach.

Steve slowly takes a step back, lowering his hands away from Eddie’s now tear-stained face. He reaches out for Steve, reluctant to let go. So Steve decides to indulge just a little and takes Eddie’s hand as he guides them into the kitchen. He flicks the microwave light on and turns to look at Eddie, who’s perched himself on the countertop next to the sink.

“You need to eat,” Steve says, maneuvering the blanket down around his hips to give Eddie easy access to his neck. He’s at least still a little optimistic he can get out the small puddle of blood already soaked in, Steve doesn’t want to make it any worse.

Eddie violently shakes his head, reaching out a shaky hand to Steve's shoulder, holding the blanket in place. “No,” he swallows again, heavily breathing in and out through his mouth. A man in the desert, dying of thirst yet refusing to acknowledge the oasis within arms reach. “That’s not– I’m not here for that. Please, Steve, I just came to talk.”

It catches him off guard. Surely Eddie’s only looking for the same release Steve made for himself only a few hours ago, apparently deciding a four hour plane ride would be worth drinking straight from the source. Except now he’s pushing Steve away. Eddie hops off the counter and opens the fridge, rummaging for what Steve knows he won’t find. So Steve gestures back to the counter before heading out to the garage himself, grabbing three blood bags instead of the usual two.

When he comes back, frozen bags in hand, Eddie’s got a bowl waiting. Steve grabs a glass to pour them in once thawed, but again Eddie surprises him. He snatches the bags from Steve’s hands, slitting the top of the bag off with his claws and dumps the frozen mush into the bowl. Eddie shoves a crazy straw right into the middle and slurps the mess down. It’s a horrific slushie, but the man seems to be enjoying himself until Eddie squints his eyes tight and winces.

“Oh shit, brain freeze,” Eddie groans, waiting for it to pass.

What starts as a small giggle to Eddie’s very human problem morphs into a manic cackle. Steve’s bent over the counter next to him, clutching his stomach as it begins to cramp from his uncontrolled, and frankly unhinged, laughing. This has been one of the most bizarre nights Steve’s had in a long time. Nothing about it seems real, everything from the guilt at using his makeshift toys to the love of his life sitting on the kitchen counter like he never left.

“This is insane,” Steve cackles, wiping tears from his eyes.

Eddie sighs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to happen like this.”

Steve leans back against the counter across from Eddie and sees a man that’s more familiar yet so distinctly different from the boy he used to know. Eddie’s crimson-haloed eyes have faded back to their normal umber brown, his fangs have fully receded, even though his lips are still stained with a ruby red glisten. There’s a concerned wrinkle on his forehead that Steve refuses to reach out and smoothen.

But even through Steve’s feeble attempts to add a false shine to his memories of Eddie, he’s more beautiful than Steve’s ever seen him. There are small crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and the beginnings of laugh lines around his dimples. The few strands of silver in his hair sparkle against the shitty microwave lighting every time he moves. He’s dressed down in well-worn black sweatpants and an oversized black Led Zeppelin sweatshirt littered with small holes in the collar.

He's so fucking gorgeous, and it's eating Steve alive, much like whatever Eddie’s dying to say. So Steve leans against the counter across from him and waits, admiring the man he loves but lost, as he watches Eddie stare into the middle distance to collect his thoughts.

“I just– I needed to see you, but then it just all went to shit.” Eddie starts and stops, briefly looking at Steve before his gaze flits away. “My flight was delayed. Then, when I finally found an open seat, there was a layover and they lost my luggage. They said they’d send it to the motel I was staying at, but it never came and I got so thirsty that I couldn’t wait anymore. And then I found you–” Eddie’s sentence trails off, left hanging as he rakes his gaze over the now closed wound on Steve's neck and the dried rivulet of blood trailing down his collar bone into his chest hair.

“Jesus Eddie, how long have you been in town?”

Eddie sheepishly replies, “about four days.”

Steve shakes his head. Fucking unbelievable, this guy. “So you haven’t eaten in four days.” Eddie averts his gaze, chewing on his lip as he twists the skull ring on his finger. “Eddie, when was the last time you ate?”

He mumbles something incoherent, and only after a decent shove shouts “seven days!”

“What the fuck Eddie,” Steve scoffs. He pushes himself away from the counter, pacing the kitchen just to do something, to keep his body moving and stop himself from smacking Eddie on the back of the head. Steve focuses on the cold tiles beneath his feet as he tries to pull himself together. “Why would you do that to yourself? What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking about you,” Eddie shouts at him again. Steve spins on his heel, turning so fast to face him he almost loses his balance. He catches himself on the counter as Eddie starts to rant. “I’m always thinking about you, Steve. Constantly. Every concert, every new song, every goddamn date, it’s always you.”

Eddie hops down from the counter, a fresh wave of energy and a healthy, red hue to his cheeks. Where his eyes roamed the room before, they’re now locked on Steve. Unwavering devotion rolls off him in waves and Steve feels bulldozed by the intensity of the moment. Eddie takes Steve’s hands in his, gripping tight as he continues to carve out his heart, bleeding his confession all over the floor as he places it still beating at Steve’s feet.

“I love you, Steve Harrington. I never stopped, no matter how hard I tried. And I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize that I don’t want to stop. Even if you don’t feel the same way anymore, or if you blame me for what I did to you, I couldn’t go another day without telling you everything. I know it’s not fair, and I want to be sorry. Sorry because you deserve so much better than a monster who destroyed your entire life, all because I was selfish and hungry and in love. Now I’m here, doing it all again.

“But this time, I want to do it right. I’m not going to poison this relationship. Again.”

He raises their conjoined hands to wipe the steady stream of tears from Steve’s cheeks. Steve can feel his heart beating wildly in his chest, his pulse rabbiting in his neck. Even though he knows Eddie can smell it coursing through him, his eyes stay locked on Steve’s.

Steve hears Eddie’s words, but he can’t get them to settle in his heart. He hasn’t really eaten anything all day, he drained a full bag, then shot himself full of venom as he fucked himself to exhaustion and passed out on the living room floor in a puddle of his own fluids.

This could all be some fucked up fever dream he concocted to torment himself with on the worst day of the year. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had a nightmare this vivid.

A small prick to the back of his hand jolts him from his ruminations. Eddie’s still gazing at him, concern woven between his scrunched eyebrows. He knows Eddie’s waiting on him to say something. The silence draws on, the small light of hope shining in Eddie’s eyes fading every second it takes Steve to wrap his head around the concept that Eddie is here, right now, in the kitchen and we’re holding hands.

“Look, Steve, I– I’m sorry. This is so fucked up,” Eddie’s voice cracks. He drops his hands from Steve’s and takes a measured step back. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m– I’m just gonna go.”

It’s not until he’s turned away, rounding the kitchen island that Steve calls out and rushes after him, managing to grab Eddie’s wrist just as he turns back. They’re left standing close, almost nose to nose.

“How will–” Steve clears his throat around a strangled whisper– “would it be different. You know, if we tried again.”

Steve sees the moment relief hits Eddie like a lightning strike. He gasps, ragged against the hopeful tears brimming to fall down onto his wide smile. Long, sharp fingers gingerly slip between Steve’s like they’ve always been there and Steve squeezes back.

Eddie relaxes, leaning into Steve’s space until their foreheads are pressed together, curls curtained around them. “Oh don’t worry sweetheart, I’ve got some ideas.”

~~~

It turns out Eddie did, in fact, have quite a few ideas. Some good, like taking it slow by not moving back in together right away. Start out slow with a few dates, catch up on each others’ lives, and find their way back to friendship before anything else.

Eddie also had some bad ideas, like throwing himself prostrate on Robin’s front stoop only for Vickie to open the door and scream as she tripped over him in her hurry to work. It was just one more log Robin got to add to Eddie’s funeral pyre. Steve’s not quite sure what happened there, neither of them willing to go into detail. All Robin had said to him, a wicked smirk stretched across her face, was that she handled it. On the other hand, Eddie with wide, terrified eyes just assured him everything’s fine now.

Their ultimate saving grace was for Eddie to keep drinking from the bags. Steve fought him on it, defensive and heartbroken that they’d be giving up one of the most intimate parts of their relationship. It was their hardest conversation, but in the end Steve realized Eddie was right.

“Stevie, this all happened because we were both so wrapped up in feeding that we never cooled off long enough to figure anything out. I want to show you that I love you for who you are, not for what you can give me.”

Eddie swipes a stray lock of hair across Steve’s forehead, away from his eyes. Steve cranes his neck behind him, pushing the back of his skull into Eddie’s chest just to get a good look at him. The low evening sun shines through the living room window and lights a golden fire in Eddie’s eyes. They’re warm as they gaze down at Steve, full of love.

Eddie’s been in Hawkins for almost two weeks, and he’s spent every evening at Steve’s for dinner. Some nights they just catch up, others they eat side by side on the couch watching old nerd show reruns.

This is the fourth night they’ve talked about their future, and only the second time it hasn’t turned into an argument. There was too much left unsaid for it to not blow up at some point, and Steve assumes it’ll happen again. But every night ends the same, perfect way.

Eddie wears Steve’s old sweats, leaning back against the arm of the couch with one foot on the ground and the other leg wrapped over Steve laying between his legs. Steve can feel the steady rise and fall of Eddie’s chest against his back as he blindly grabs for Eddie’s hand. He spins the ring around and around, tumbling in time to his churning thoughts.

“I know you’re right,” Steve concedes. “Plus, it’ll be nice for everyone to see that it’s not your love venom tricking my brain into doing stuff I don’t want to do.”

“Steve, we don’t have anything to prove– wait,” Eddie shifts back, the shock in his voice causing Steve to sit up to face and turn to him head on, “what do you mean love venom? What the hell is that?” Steve snorts at his high-pitched screech. It’s been years since he’s seen Eddie, but thankfully, some things never change.

Steve throws his hands out in front of him, a picture of innocence as he defends himself. “That’s just what Robin called it?”

“Jesus Christ, it sounds like you’re talking about drinking my–” Eddie lets his sentence fall dead on arrival as he dramatically gestures to his crotch. Steve rolls his eyes, but now that he’s thinking about it.

“You know, she might actually think it’s come.” She doesn’t.

Eddie gapes at him, eyes bursting to pop from his head, mouth flailing like a fish out of water, until Steve finally cracks. He’s never been great at poker. A dangerous grin spreads across Eddie’s face as he chides, “oh you’re so dead, sweetheart,” before tackles Steve onto the living room floor.

Happiness sings in his veins. Hope fizzes in his chest and yeah, he knows they’ve got a long road ahead of them. They’ve got some shit to work through, trauma to hash out and years to catch up on. Steve’s willing to give it a shot if it means Eddie’s back in his life– either as a partner or even as a friend. And as Eddie pins him to the carpet– sans bloodstain– he can’t help but see the same hope in Eddie’s crinkled, brown eyes shining back at him.

Header graphic kudos!

[talksungchan]

freedom ain't nothing but missing you ☆ jung sungchan

ᯓ★ WORD COUNT: 13.6k

ᯓ★ PAIRING: riize's jung sungchan x female!reader

ᯓ★ TAGS & WARNINGS: college!au, second chance romance, college antics - partying, drinking, brief mentions of vomiting, reader has mad commitment issues you wanna punch her in the face, pining

ᯓ★ SYNOPSIS: the last time you saw him was when you looked over your shoulder at his weeping figure one last time at the airport. four seasons have passed and your heart tightens at the sight of his smiling face, wishing it was directed at you.

ᯓ★ NOTES: what would a renjunphile fic be without a second chance romance element ! sorry it's my favourite trope i can never let go of it :') all my stories are really the same now ! also me *handshake* using aespa members as side characters lol at the start of story, y/n and hyung line are going into 4th year, sohee and seunghan into 3rd year and anton into 2nd year.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

You hear your best friend's voice before you see her. If you had just looked a little more to the left, you would've spotted her immediately anyway as she waved a large piece of pink card-stock with your name displayed in a glittery explosion.

"Y/N! Over here!" she cooed at you loudly from behind the barrier, "Y/N!!!"

You quickly weave around the other passengers as expertly as you could with your trolley of bags, but Minjeong is quick to meet you at the exit. She drops the sign onto your cluster of suitcases and wraps her arms around your neck, squealing into your ear with glee.

"I missed you too, Jeong," you giggled at her embrace, "I told you that you didn't have to get me!"

She scoffed at you as she pulled away, "What kind of best friend would I be if I didn't welcome you back home after a year away! You said your parents couldn't come and meet you, so I came!"

You think back to your conversation just before you got on the god-awful long flight with her, recalling how your parents thought it was too far for them to drive up from your hometown when they were already coming the week after for your birthday.

"Thanks babe," you thanked her sincerely, bumping your hip against hers while the two of you began to push the cart together. You couldn't believe that you were able to pack your whole life in just two large suitcases and one small one, "By the way, how are we getting back into the city?"

Minjeong didn't drive; she'd rather walk to her destination in the wind, snow, hail or storm than learn how to get behind the wheel. She was a self proclaimed "passenger princess", which you admired and envied from the way your friends (including her) used you like their own personal taxi service when you had your car. Sadly for your friends, you were not hesitant when it came to selling your car at the end of your second year of university, just weeks before you packed up your life and moved to New York for the new school year. While you sometimes missed your slightly beat up Hyundai on the days that you had to get on the subway with arms full of groceries, you couldn't justify the purchase of a car again for your final year of university.

"I assisted the help of a special someone," Minjeong winked at you happily, watching your face contort in horror immediately, "Wait, no. Not that one. I promise."

You let out a sigh of relief that you didn't even know you were holding back as you cramped together in the car park's elevator. There were many people you haven't seen in a year. There were many people you've missed and wished to see. But you didn't think you could face him right now, at this very second.

"Who is it?" you prodded curiously, but she just gave you an innocent smile and pushed the cart out of the elevator and towards a shiny car about 30 steps from the doors

You couldn't make out the figure sat in the driver's seat, no matter how you craned your head until he got out and faced you straight on.

"Chanyoung!" you gasped in surprise, welcoming him in a tight hug, "Since when did you learn how to drive?"

"Just this year, noona. Welcome home!" he chuckled from above you. You wondered if he grew any more since the last time you saw him, cause it definitely felt like it.

Chanyoung was Minjeong's little cousin that began his studies at your university as you were leaving. Despite that, he grew to be a familiar presence as he lived nearby and always dropped by the apartment you shared with his cousin. He was truly one of your favourite people since he was so sweet and caring.

Before you could finish your greetings with Chanyoung, Minjeong had already loaded your (very heavy) bags into the trunk of Chanyoung's new car and had collapsed in the back seat, "Let's go guys. I'm sure Y/N's tired, but you can sit in the front."

Without another word, she dropped her head to the window and began to doze off. You clambered into the front seat and gave Chanyoung a thumbs up to head out.

"How was your first year at university, 'Ton?" you asked.

"Super good, actually. It was really helpful to know all of your friends before I entered so I never felt alone or lost or anything," he recounted the times that you missed, "By the way, thank you for letting me stay in your room. My first year definitely wouldn't be the same if I still lived at home."

You shared a two-bedroom apartment with Minjeong just off campus during your second year at university after meeting her on the first day of first year and becoming fast friends. You had warned her that you probably would have to find a temporary replacement while you were halfway across the world, but when word got out to her little cousin, he begged to take over your room while you were gone. Since he lived in Seoul already, his parents weren't very willing to let him test his luck and go into dorms with a stranger, but they were much more open to letting him live with his older and allegedly more responsible older cousin until he found friends to live with for the next year.

"No worries; I'd rather it was you than a stranger," you shrugged, "Who are you living with again?"

"Sohee and Seunghan," he tapped his finger on the steering wheel to the beat of the song quietly playing on the radio, "You know them, right?"

Your heart squeezed again at the thought of the boys you got to know in the year before you left, "Yeah, a bit. Haven't spoken to them in a long time, though. I hope it's not awkward to see everyone again, otherwise I'll just lock myself in my room until I graduate."

"Everyone misses you, noona," Anton assured you softly, "I know that for sure."

You opened your mouth to say what your heart desired, but closed it again hesitantly as your brain came to the rescue of your emotions. Anton flashed a look at you from the driver's seat, but chose not to comment when he saw the conflicted expression on your face.

"Tell me about your time in New York," his soft voice pulled you gently out of the mess that was unravelling in your head.

You gave him a small, knowing smile and began recounting your favourite memories and your life in the city that never sleeps.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Around 4PM, you waved your parents away as they pulled out from the car park under your apartment complex. They had a pretty long drive back to your hometown with work early the next day, but you were grateful they made the drive up in the morning to celebrate your birthday with you. You had taken them to your previous favourite Italian restaurant for lunch, but after tasting more authentic cuisine in New York in the predominantly Italian neighbourhoods, you weren't sure if the restaurant was as good as you remembered it to be. Still, you enjoyed the lunch and catching up with your parents with what had happened in the last 6 months since they came to visit you abroad. With a hug and a kiss goodbye, they were driving away from you once again.

When you returned back upstairs to your apartment, Minjeong was waiting for you patiently on the couch with her legs and arms crossed and a mischievous smirk on her face.

"What?" you groaned in anticipation.

"I picked out an outfit for you while you were out. It's on the bed. Get ready," she grinned, clapping her hands together, "We have dinner plans. Meet back here in an hour and a half."

"That's really not necessary, Jeong," you pleaded, but she just turned her nose up at you, reiterating her instructions.

To be honest, you had planned to spend the rest of your birthday cuddled up on the couch with your best friend, probably watching a chick-flick or a horror or both. She stomped away to her room and you fearfully tiptoed to yours. Knowing her, she would have picked out something a bit more showy than you would like.

However, you were pleasantly surprised at the dress laid out on your bed, with a note in her handwriting. It wasn't something she picked out of your closet- it was a dress she had bought for you. It was a flowing mini dress with ruffles extending from the skirt and a corset bodice you knew would flatter you. You sent her a grateful text and began to freshen up your hair and makeup from your morning outfit.

From your outfit, you guessed it would be in a sit-down restaurant that was more refined than a bbq restaurant whose smoke would cling to your hair, skin and clothes for days. However, knowing Minjeong, you couldn't put anything past her. After all, she was the one that convinced you to drink soju with her at a stall on the side of a dirt road in your floor length silk dresses after your first year ball. An hour and a half later, you had curled and then re-curled your hair, did your eyeliner twice and marvelled at how the light pink dress your best friend bought you fit you like a glove. When you heard Minjeong calling out your name, you were finishing buckling the heeled Mary Janes that you loved and made sure that everything you could need for the night was in your purse.

In the week you had been back in Seoul, all you had done was unpack your suitcases and make the room feel like yours again. School wasn't starting for another week, so all the friends that you tried to meet up with told you that they were still in their hometowns, due to come a few days before the fall semester began.

"Urgh, I knew it would look amazing on you!" Minjeong analysed you in awe. Trust the fashion design and marketing major to have an eye for these types of things.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" you eyed her suspiciously as she looped her arm around yours and dragged you out of your shared apartment.

"You can find out when we get there," Minjeong tapped on her phone, "The taxi's outside, quick!"

The destination set for the taxi was somewhere you weren't familiar with. The street name definitely didn't ring a bell. Perhaps a new restaurant had opened in that area while you were gone and Minjeong was just trying to catch you up to the city again.

Speaking of the girl beside you, she spent the whole ride with her eyebrows furrowed together as she furiously tapped away on her phone. You wouldn't say that you were a particularly nosy person (lie), but her privacy screen protector made it impossible for you to see who she was texting. It was probably Heeseung anyway- her on-again, off-again boyfriend of four years, but more like two.

"Are you guys fighting again?" you teased.

"Huh?" she looked up at you in confusion and her face flashed with recognition, "Yeah, yeah. It's nothing. Don't worry, but look we're basically here."

Apparently 'here' meant on the street that was lined by endless blocks of high rise flats and a few convenience stores dotted about.

"Did you make me dress up to eat ramen at a GS25?" you prodded your finger in the direction of the store.

Minjeong laughed heartily, "No silly! I made you dress up to eat ramen at a 7/11!" she pointed at the stripy neon sign at the opposite end of the street. She captured your arm in hers once more, tugging to make you walk with her, "Just trust me. It's the hottest place in town."

You don't think that the hottest place in town was Block 7 of this high rise complex, but you say nothing as she buzzed for apartment 08 and caught the lift up to the 4th floor. Minjeong was known to find all the hottest spots in town, so you really try to keep it to yourself as she knocked on the door that looked far too much like an apartment door, including the mail next to the door mat.

She didn't even wait for someone to answer, just pushed down on the handle and nudged for you to enter into the darkness.

"Surprise!"

You clasped a hand over your mouth as light flooded the room and a group of about 20 people screamed at you. From behind you, Minjeong was cheering, pushing you further into what now seemed to be an apartment instead of a restaurant. With 20 pairs of eyes staring at you all at once, it took you a few seconds to shake yourself out of the shock and recognise anyone. The place was decorated with banners and balloons of your favourite colours, with steaming food on the dining table in the corner of the room.

"Happy birthday! Welcome home!" Karina, Yizhuo and Giselle were the first to crush you ina hug.

"We're sorry we declined your plans to hang out," Yizhuo pouted, "We thought we would give away the surprise that Jeong planned if we saw you."

You waved a dismissive hand at your younger friend, "It's okay. This is so sweet of you guys!" You felt Minjeong join the embrace.

"We thought you deserved it since we didn't get to spend your birthday with you last year," Giselle added on as the group pulled away from you.

Last year, you had spent your birthday alone, wandering around New York City for the first time and procuring free birthday goods from all the establishments that offered it.

"Happy birthday, Y/N!" you heard a deeper voice coo at you as you were pulled away from your girls. You were suddenly face to face with one of your closer guy friends from before.

"Eunseok!" you accepted his side hug, "Hi!"

"Welcome home! We all missed you so much," at his words, you dart your eyes around the room and find 5 boys hiding behind Eunseok's tall figure. They each hug you one by one, ending with Chanyoung who gives you the cheekiest grin.

"Welcome to our apartment," he grinned proudly, gesturing at himself, Sohee and Seunghan.

"Where'd you get all this money from, huh? I should've charged you more rent," you teased, eyeing the modern, open-plan space. The floor to ceiling windows on one wall of the room with a view over the river really sold you on the idea that this was an expensive apartment.

"You can throw as many parties as you like here," Shotaro giggled, "We know we're going to!"

"Yeah, whose birthday is it next?" Wonbin pondered.

"Oh! It's-" Eunseok smacked Sohee in the stomach before he could finish his words, laughing nervously.

The 6 boys in front of you watched in despair as your smile fell ever so slightly before you recovered it again.

"I'll go say hi to everyone else," you murmured softly, catching Wonbin's regretful face.

"Y/N, he's-"

"It's okay, Bin," you smiled softly, ignoring the pounding in your heart and head, "I wouldn't have expected him to come. He probably hates me, right?"

You turned around without letting any of the boys say another word, joining your group of friends from your dance club. While your friendship with them was something you treasured deeply, you fell out of touch with them in your year abroad quite quickly. You didn't put much thought into the people that did or didn't keep in contact, considering you were focused on making friends and trying to live in the moment abroad. Besides, you were coming back anyway. What's a year in the grand scheme of things?

Your heart panged at that thought, but you tried to push it away as Jisung tackled you in a tight hug. Ryujin and Yeji had to physically peel the towering kid away from you as you dove into conversation about what you had spent the last year doing.

As the conversation came to an end, your eyes fell on the 6 boys stood around in a circle, whispering hushedly and stealing quick glances at you. When you caught Seunghan's eye, he just chuckled nervously and dismissed you, but the sight of them, incomplete, caused your heart to tense up.

All the most important people in your university life was in this room. All, except one.

"Jeong, I'm just gonna catch some air. Just quickly," you tapped your best friend on the back, just before waving and greeting her potentially current boyfriend Heeseung.

"Oh, I'll come with!" she began to untangle herself from his embrace, but you just clicked your teeth and shook your head.

"No, it's okay. I can go alone; I'll be quick. Just buzz me up when I ring?" you requested. She gave you an unsure look, but settled back into Heeseung's form.

Ignoring the stares on your back, you ran down the two flights of stairs and pushed open the door to outside. Since it was the start of fall and 6pm, the sun was beginning to go down. The sky wasn't yet pink and purple, but instead glowing an ethereal gold, bathing you in light rays. You fiddled with the phone in your hand, grasping it tightly as you debated what to do. His contact was staring up at you, almost taunting you to do something with it. Call it? Message it? Delete it?

Your finger hovered over the phone symbol. Surely he'd want to hear from you, right? The way you ended things wasn't... satisfactory. It gave neither of you closure. You needed to speak to him, right?

Fuck it, you think to yourself. It's your birthday. You can do whatever you like. As you pressed the call button, you shakily lifted the phone up to your ears, counting the rings.

Ring ring, ring ring, ring-

"Y/N?" his voice is familiar, soothing the nerves that plagued you at the thought of him letting your call go unanswered.

"Sungchan," you began hesitantly, "I'm not sure if anyone told you, but I'm uh- I'm back in Seoul."

"Y/N," he repeated, making you aware of the sounds of his feet hitting the pavement through the phone and his laboured, shaky breaths.

"Shit, are you busy? Am I interrupting something?" your stomach folded in on itself as you realised he didn't answer your statement. He was probably at the gym- Minjeong told you he'd taken that up in your absence.

"Y/N," he breathed out again, the patters of his feet coming to a stop, "Look up."

You tore your eyes away from your feet- the only thing that was distracting you from internalising too hard that you were calling your kind-of ex-boyfriend.

As you lifted your eyes up, a tall figure came into view across the street from you. Sungchan was stood panting, one hand holding his phone up to his ear and the other holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Sungchan?" the call dropped as the figure took a step into the street, hastily running over to stop just shy from you.

"I don't hate you," it's the first time you're hearing his voice in one year, "The boys- they said that you said- I wanted to come, but I didn't know if you wanted me here."

He's trying to maintain eye contact, but he's clutching the flowers to his chest as he pants. You were at ease enough to chuckle, "Sungchan, did you run here?"

In this light, his eyes shined and sparkled. You've missed looking into them and getting lost all night in his gaze. You missed the way he would look at you like you were the most precious thing on earth to him.

He flashed you a toothy smile, "Mhm, didn't want to make you wonder. Just wanted to tell you that."

"A text would've sufficed."

He analysed your expression and took one large step back, "Ah, am I reading this wrong? Did you not want me to come?"

You took one step forward, "I'm sorry I didn't call as soon as I got back."

Relief flooded Sungchan's whole body as he stretched his arm to offer the bouquet to you, "It's whatever. Happy birthday, Y/N."

"Thanks, Sungchan," you smiled sincerely, "Do you want to head up now together? I'm kind of hungry and I think there's pizza."

"Yeah, sure!" his face is practically lit up at your invitation, but he hesitated to follow you, "Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"I missed you," he whispered shyly, "Just so you know."

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

You met Sungchan three weeks into your first year of university. Minjeong's boyfriend Heeseung had joined the soccer team in the first week and their first game came around quickly. The two of you were like two peas in a pod, bundled up together in matching scarves bearing your university's colours and logo, shivering on the school's bleachers.

Your friend's eyes were trained on her boyfriend from home, but you had the lucky status of being able to cast your eyes on each player and make your judgement. The game had been going on for about 30 minutes with your school being 2-0 up. Both goals had been scored by the team's #23, a scrawny tall boy whose name you could just about make out from your distance.

"Jung's pretty good," you hummed to your friend.

"#23? His name's Sungchan, I think. Hee says he's really nice. Want me to get you two acquainted?" Minjeong wiggled her eyebrows at you, but you rolled your eyes.

You were determined to find love as naturally as possible at university. Back home, you'd been on a few first days with a few guys set up through your friends, but they were all the same to you- not cute enough, not interesting enough. You hadn't been desperate to get into a relationship, especially knowing that you were going to apply to spend your third year abroad if you kept your grades up. But when Sungchan slid in to the seat beside yours for your shared lecture meeting your GenEd requirements, you had lost all semblance of that.

"Hey, you're Y/N, right?" he had offered his hand out to you, "I'm Sungchan. I've seen you around with Heeseung's girlfriend and I've seen you in this lecture a few times."

You had taken his hand in yours, gripping firmly and giving him a shy smile, "Yeah, that's me. Nice to meet you,"

When he continued to sit beside you for another few weeks, asking you questions in hushed whispers and explaining concepts to you when you looked lost, you said nothing. When he started asking if you wanted to study in the library together in your two hour gap after your shared lecture, you said nothing. When library study-seshes turned into studying at a cafe where he'd buy you a drink, you said nothing. When that turned to just two hours of the two of you chatting and getting to know all about each other's lives with your laptops abandoned on the table, you said nothing.

It then turned into butterflies slowly erupting in your stomach as his face lit up the second he saw you in the theatre. It turned into your heart beating a little faster whenever his hand brushed against yours on the walk to the café you now frequented with him. It turned into finding comfort in him as he slowly began introducing you to his best friends, who would tease you endlessly. It turned into nervous giggles and pink cheeks as you spent the whole fall and winter denying anything was going on with you and Jung Sungchan.

When spring of your freshman year began to roll in, Sungchan had mustered up the courage to take your hand in his whenever your fingers did graze each other on the walks. Whenever you'd look up at him to question it, he'd just smile slyly and look off into the distance, quickly changing the topic before you could address it.

Spring break had you realising how much of a presence he was in your life. Walking through the parks of your hometown felt melancholy without him by your side. Studying at a cafe alone was productive, but you would miss the way that every time you looked up from your screen, he'd already be staring back at you, a soft smile permanently etched on his face.

Cherry blossom season was your favourite time of the year. So when you returned to your campus and found out the main square was lined with these bloomed trees, you had dragged Sungchan there immediately, even if he had just arrived from his hometown.

The joy in your eyes must have been so evident, reflecting back in his eyes as sparkles. When Sungchan had placed his hands on your shoulders to stop you bouncing, and then leaned his head down closer to yours, you didn't stop it. You had long been used to the way he made your heart race. It was a welcome feeling as he softly planted his lips on yours for the first time under the falling petals.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

"Y/N," the sharp voice plucked you from your daydream, a bag making a thud on the wooden table, "What are you thinking about?"

"Huh?" your eyes focused in on Karina taking a seat in front of you at the café, "Nothing, nothing. Did you just have class?"

"My class ended early and I was just walking to my next class in 15, but I saw you through the window looking all sad and aloof," she explained, her eyebrows drawn together in worry, "Are you okay, girl?"

You met Karina with Minjeong at a club in the first week of your freshman year. She had been throwing up in the toilet with the door open and no one holding her hair, so Minjeong did that while you rubbed her back and cooed reassuring words. After confessing that she was getting drunk because she had just broken up with her high school boyfriend, the two of you captured her in your little group.

"It's just weird being back," you admitted.

She pouted at you sadly, "Aw, don't tell me you like your New York friends better than us?"

"No!" you squealed, laughing, "It's not that. I love you guys. It's just weird being back with Sungchan."

Her eyes morphed into a mix between empathy and sympathy, "Aw, babe. I'm sorry; I know it's weird. Whenever I meet my friends back home, I get a weird feeling seeing my ex there too. I imagine it must be worse for you since you ended on better terms than me and Mark did. It must be confusing, huh?"

Out of all your friends, Karina was the best one to be having this conversation with. While you loved Minjeong more than anything in the world, she was famous for breaking up with her boyfriend for random spats, but calling him and asking to get back together the very next moment she missed him. Absolutely no sense of longing in that department.

"I just don't know how I should act around him. Do we just go back to being friends like in first year? Should I pursue him again? Why does it feel like we're strangers to each other?"

During your party, you had thought Sungchan would stay by your side, but he quickly excused himself to join his friends and only gave you reluctant smiles through the night. Where had all the confidence disappeared to?

You saw him one more time in the two weeks after your party at the library. Eunseok had booked a large private study room at the library and texted you to come. Sungchan was already there when you came, his head stuck in a textbook. Other than shooting you a greeting and sliding the box of cookies in your direction, you got nothing else from him in three hours.

"You just need to get the worst of it over and talk to him. He must be just as confused as you are, to be honest," Karina sighed.

"He hasn't found someone else, right?" you asked reluctantly. Even if he had, it would have been your own fault anyway after the way you left him for dust at the airport.

Karina scoffed and rolled her eyes, "The only thing he's found in the past year is the gym. Taro says he's gone crazy. You know- post break-up glow up? He's become quite the heartbreaker, actually. All these girls started to notice him, but he never gives any of them the time of day."

You fight the scowl threatening to display on your face, "Oh, really?"

"Please, Y/N, he was always going to wait for you. I'd never seen a man so down bad and I know Heeseung." she scrunched up her face at the thought. Heeseung was famously untouchable by the girls at university, no matter how much they threw themselves at the football captain. Anyone else would be embarrassed by getting broken up with by their girlfriend every couple of months, but Heeseung always took it with stride and came crawling back with on his hands and knees towards her every time.

"Hm, you're wrong. I don't think anyone can beat that man," the memory of him scoring a hat-trick in the regional final with the words 'Take me back, Minjeong' written on his undershirt that he flashed while he celebrated the last goal cemented his position of number 1 loverboy in your mind.

"Potentially, but Sungchan drove four hours overnight to your hometown when your pet hamster died to comfort you in the summer between first and second year," Karina reminded you, "He charmed your strict parents so hard that by the time the night came, they let him stay in your room with you!"

"He brought expensive melons," you rolled your eyes, "I don't even know where he got those from at 2 in the morning."

"Exactly. Even I wouldn't gift my in-laws that expensive of a fruit no matter how much I wanted to impress them," she countered, "Just talk to Sungchan, I beg. I don't want to watch you go through the whole will they-won't they song and dance of first year again. I gotta go to class, but text him now, yeah?"

You dumbly nodded at her instruction, watching her race out of the cafe and waving goodbye through the large window. Everyone always teased you about how much Sungchan seemed to like you. They never knew that you were equally as smitten.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

You made it to the café before Sungchan. Unfortunately, that just gave you more time to panic and stress over what you were going to say to him after all this time. Your chocolate frappe and his iced americano sat in front of you, slowly melting in the unrelenting sun. You asked to meet at 1 and there was still 5 minutes 'til then, but Sungchan had the habit of being early. That was one thing he passed down to you.

"Y/N," Sungchan gave you a gentle smile as he slid into the seat across you. It was hard to meet his eye, but you held eye contact for as long as you could (not very long) before you tore your eyes away and slid his drink over to him. He thanked you sincerely and took a sip, giving you the chance to speak first.

"Thanks for meeting me, Sungchan," you began nervously, "I know it's been, um, confusing recently- at least for me. I just wanted to catch up and see where we are or get some closure, I guess. I feel like you deserve more of an explanation than what I was able to give you."

In an instant, you're transported back to one week before your flight to New York in the comfort of his bed. You had tearfully explained how hard you thought it was going to be to do long distance even when you had spent a better part of the situationship deluding yourself and each other that it would work out not matter what.

You don't think you could ever forget the look of heartbreak plastered on his face as you spilled your worries to him that night. You don't think you'd ever forgive yourself for making his body shake with sobs, pleading you to think about it again.

That's why it's hard to face him right now- because of all the shame and guilt.

"To be honest, Y/N, you told me before we got involved that you were doing your year abroad and that you didn't think it would be in the best interest of either of us to be in a new relationship by the time you left," Sungchan hummed, swirling his straw in the ice of his drink.

Suddenly, it's a year and a half earlier in your head as you and Sungchan celebrated and 'not really 1 year anniversary' because you two refused to label yourselves as a couple despite functioning identically to one. You remembered the cake, the flowers, the candles that you blew out together.

"I feel like I led you on," you admitted.

"Maybe," he shrugged, "I don't feel that way. You didn't want to get into a relationship, but I kept pursuing you anyway until you fell in- until you liked me," he coughed.

Your demeanour softened as the words slip from his mouth. When Sungchan tried to utter those three words to you at the airport for the first time and you stopped him before you could, you instantly knew you were making a mistake. But by the time you had gotten through security and settled yourself at your gate, you had manipulated yourself to think otherwise.

"Stop being so nice about it, Sungchan. I did you so wrong," you frowned deeply at him, picking at your nails in nerves. Your heart and stomach honestly ached in displeasure every time you thought about what happened.

"We made choices, and I guess we're better people now for it," Sungchan returned a tight-lipped smile, turning his head to stare out of the window and into the street.

When you left, Sungchan was shy and awkward with his limbs flying all over the place and never seeming like he had control over them. His hair fell around his eyes in an adorable cut and it would take him a while to muster up the courage to look anyone in the eye. That wasn't to say he wasn't a friendly and amazing guy- just one that had to warm up to you.

The Sungchan you returned to walked with confidence and seemed like he was now sure of himself. He kept his head up, initiated conversations with people and just moved through life more freely. You can't help but think that you were the one thing holding him back.

You didn't know what to reply with. Were you really better off? You had spent the past year trying to enjoy your life abroad, but grovelling with guilt for the life back home that you left.

Before you can open your mouth, someone beats you to it.

"Channie?"

The affectionate nickname falling from another person's mouth instantly conjures a bitter taste in your mouth. Your heads snap towards the guest standing at the edge of the table, smiling down at the man in front of you.

"Ah, I knew it was you," she beamed brightly, "Haven't had the chance to talk to you- how was your summer?"

Sungchan's eyes flickered to you so quick that you almost didn't catch it. You could tell he was hesitant in his reply, "It was good, Jiyoon. How was yours?"

She clapped her hands a little and nearly let out a squeal, "Awesome! Went to that mountain you recommended climbing! You're playing at the game tomorrow, right?"

Game? Oh, he was still on the soccer team, of course.

"Yeah," his grin was lopsided and awkward as he turned to you, "Um, Jiyoon, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Jiyoon. We met in class last year."

"Nice to meet you," she extended a hand down to you, which you reluctantly shook with a terse smile. You could practically feel the uncertainty and jealousy bubbling in the pits of your stomach as she continued, "Me and Channie were seat mates in our lectures last year! It's such a shame we don't share any this year."

The feeling is so unfamiliar that it makes you uncomfortable seeing the way she grinned and looked at him. He used to look at you like that too- the longing and the pining in the gaze when you wouldn't give into him. It was clear they weren't dating, but it felt like there was something more.

"Nice to meet you too," you clutched your drink tight in your hand as you picked up your bag, "I actually have to run somewhere so why don't you take a seat and catch up? Seems like it's due. Bye Sungchan."

In your rush away from the table, Sungchan caught your wrist again, "Y/N, don't-"

Once again, you'll never forget the face of heartbreak written all over his face as you pulled your wrist away with a sigh, "Thanks for speaking to me, Sungchan. Good luck for tomorrow."

You don't dare look back as the bubbly Jiyoon slid into the chair you were once occupying.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Minjeong has her arms crossed in your doorway with a pointed look directed at you.

"Why aren't you ready?" she squinted her eyes menacingly at your slumbering position on the bed, "We're going to be late! You're lucky I asked Sunghoon to save us two seats."

You pulled the covers over your head, "I'm not going. Leave without me."

The little pitter-patter of her footsteps on your hardwood floors echoes before she ripped the sheets away from you, "And why is that?"

You made grabby-hands at the duvet, but she tossed it behind her. You gave her your best innocent look and produced a cough, "I'm sick?"

Minjeong scoffed loudly and tugged on your arm, "I'm not taking no for an answer, missy. This is your final first game of the season! And we're playing our rival team, so show some school spirit."

"But 'Jeong," you whined in protest as she threw open your wardrobe and began to search for your school merch.

"You don't have to see him if you don't want to," she sighed empathetically, "We'll run away as soon as it's done, but you loved school football games, right?"

It's about the time you realised that Minjeong wasn't going to let up on her insisting, so you slipped on the crop top and jacket with your school's logos and shimmied into the skirt she was making you wear, despite the temperature outside. Arm in arm, but in measured silence, the two of you fast-walked to the football arena that was only 15 minutes from your house. Thankfully the game hadn't yet started when you two clambered into the seats between Sunghoon, Heeseung's friend, and Anton.

"It's nice to see you again, Y/N!" Sunghoon grinned, taking you into a hug, "Did you miss Korea while you were gone?"

"Of course, but it was nice to experience a new culture for a bit," you replied, trying your hardest to keep your eyes off the pitch where the teams were getting into their positions, "How's the skating?"

"I won college nationals this year," he said proudly, to which you clapped and congratulated him. He was truly one of the school's pride and joy, but he didn't want to take it any further than collegiate sport, "Anyway, are you going to the after-party later? It's at the Rho Zeta house."

Minjeong's face planted into your right shoulder, "We are!"

"Jeong! You said we're leaving straight after the game!" you protested, turning your body to face her's.

"Yeah, to the party," she cackled, slapping an arm around her cousin's shoulders, "Tell her, Chanyoung. We're going to the party, right?"

His eyes suddenly turned pleading and you knew you were doomed for, "C'mon, Y/N! It's the first party of the year win or lose so you have to come."

Sunghoon looked at you with expectant eyes too and you honestly believed they were about three seconds away from begging on their knees when you rolled your eyes and dismissed them. Minjeong took this as a win and began to cheer, while also redirecting your attention back to the game in front of you.

When you were dating/not-dating, you used to come to every one of Sungchan's games wearing his jersey rain or shine. That's how you gained the status of being one of the most notorious couples in the grade. You didn't know why, but you were glad to see that no other girl was sporting his name and number on their back from what you could see. They weren't a famous team; they didn't sell jerseys with the players' names in the school store, so you were a little bit relieved to realise Sungchan wasn't giving out his jerseys to girls left, right and centre in your absence.

What was evident though, was the rambunctious screaming every time the ball fell at his feet. He was one of the team's star players along with Heeseung and Lee Minho, so you weren't surprised. However, the cheering had definitely stepped up a notch ever since he checked himself into the gym while you were gone.

The game passed by pretty quickly. Both defences were very good, so there weren't many goals scored. Heeseung had scored two both assisted by Sungchan and the other team had done the same. Though the game ended in a eventful tie, the crowd was still buzzing with pride and school spirit. Through the streets around the arena and the campus, you could hear them chanting some school songs.

"Are we meeting Heeseung there?" you asked Minjeong curiously as you walked together towards Greek row. Sunghoon had disappeared after the win to find some of his friends before the party, meanwhile Chanyoung was whisked away by Seunghan into the crowd

"Yeah, they'll be a while before they get to the house, I think. I know I was heavy persuading you earlier, but you're actually fine with coming to the party, right? You can tell me if not," her eyebrows are stitched together in worry, but you just link arms again and continued walking.

"It'll be nice to go out and do my normal things," you reassured her.

The Rho Zeta house was one that was very familiar to you. It was a house you had spent many a nights in during your second year when Sungchan lived at his frat house. You wondered if he stayed there or moved out with his friends.

There's some rushing freshmen on the door duty and you were let in swiftly when Minjeong uttered your names. Though Heeseung was a member of a different fraternity, the friends and partners of the football team were always invited to the post-game ragers. Making your way down to the basement where most people chose to spend their time, you waved to Eunseok in the kitchen making cocktails.

A fair few spectators had already made it to the party after the game finished, knocking back their third, fourth or fifth beer or beverage of choice already. When Wonbin pressed a shot into your hand and clinked it with the one in his, you had no choice but to chug it down with a grimace. Before you knew it, Eunseok was tipping back a cup of mojito down your throat and you and Minjeong were doing shots of tequila with your arms intertwined.

The Rho Zeta basement was expansive, but very busy. There were people playing beer pong in one corner (Sohee was losing badly to a grinning Anton) meanwhile sober monitor Shotaro was trying to pry the darts out of a drunk Seunghan's grip before he could try to throw them and potentially hurt someone. You swore that they kept those locked away in a cabinet during parties, but Seunghan was always a crafty guy.

Endless bodies swayed in the gaps of the basement to the rhythm of the music- the music being the mixes that Nu Sigma Tau alumni Johnny Suh was producing from his speakers in the far corner. He was truly a man stuck in his college days, but he always provided the best tunes. You had lost track of time early into the night before losing track of Minjeong completely when the football team arrived. You hid behind Johnny's equipment, making small (loud) talk with him about what he had been getting up to. In the corner of your eye, you had spotted Sungchan hovering in the crowds since he was probably a whole head taller than most of the attendees.

"I heard what happened to you and our bambi over there," Johnny uttered nonchalantly as he prodded at some buttons that you could never grasp the use of, "How's that working out?"

"It's the consequences of my own actions," you hummed sadly, "I've never regretted anything more."

"Does he know that?"

You flick your glance to the guy chatting with his best friend Eunseok by the wall, "I think I owe it to him to let him move on. There's so many girls interested in him since I left."

"And clearly he rejected all those girls if he came alone. I'm banishing you from my booth, so go talk to him." Johnny cooed at you before pushing you lightly away and into the crowd with a wave.

After the fiasco that was the café and Jiyoon, you certainly weren't prepared to face Sungchan. What could you even say to him? That you were burning with jealousy that you couldn't help but run away?

Yizhuo and Giselle occupied your time for a little bit on the couches, but once the smell of sweaty party goers began to invade your senses even while getting progressively drunker, you dashed/stumbled up to the second floor living room that was always much more chilled out.

"Y/N!" Soobin cried out excitedly as you entered the large room. He was already reaching over to offer you a beer, which you took. Behind Soobin's tall stature, you don't even notice the people sat in a circle behind him, "We're playing truth or dare."

Soobin was one of your friends you made in a club you joined in your freshman year. You didn't speak to him very much over text, but the two of you always had a good time when seeing each other. He wrapped his large hand around your wrist and dragged you over to sit in the circle. You recognised a few familiar faces as you cast your eyes around, namely Karina and some of Heeseung's friends, but your heart dropped when you saw Sungchan and Jiyoon sat cross-legged next to each other a few spaces to right of Soobin.

Even in your state, you weren't so much of a masochist to stay and watch. Leaning over to Soobin's ear, you whispered, "Shit Bin, I think I'm gonna sit this one out."

"No," he whined like a baby, "I haven't seen you in a year, so stay!"

His protest was so loud that it called the attention of some of your other friends who all drunkenly pouted and pleaded for you to stay. Some guy who you recognised as Sunwoo reached over the space in the middle and spun the bottle. You kept your eyes trained on it as spun around and around, praying it wouldn't land on you. A sigh of relief left your mouth as it fell on Chaerin, who quickly chose dare.

"Text your most recent ex and tell them that you miss them!" Sunwoo giggled through his drink.

As you nursed your own drink, you mirrored Chaerin's grimace and fought all your might to avoid looking at Sungchan. You would be horrified to have received that. Chaerin gingerly pulled out her phone and typed a few words before flashing her screen around the circle as proof. She then grabbed the bottle and spun it harshly.

"Jiwoo, truth or dare?" Chaerin taunted. Your eyes flashed to her figure momentarily as she giggled and chose dare as well.

"Kiss the person you'd most want to date."

You don't think you've ever felt such burning sadness as you watched Jiwoo quickly grab Sungchan's face and bring it down to hers for a quick peck. The grip on your bottle was nearly enough to smash the glass into a million pieces the way your heart was breaking.

It took everything in you not to get up and run away, especially when the alcohol in your bloodstream was making you feel your emotions ten times as strong. You couldn't make it about you- Sungchan didn't deserve that. The rest of the group's eyes had already turned to you after Jiwoo's kiss, considering that you and Sungchan never really kept it much of a secret. Even Karina  was making 'are you okay?' eyes at you from across the circle. You simply gave her a subtle nod and a smile as Jiwoo spun the bottle too.

"You and Sungchan aren't back together?" Soobin dropped his face low to your ear.

"Does it look like we are, Soob?" you exhaled, watching Nayoung give Jay a drunk and joking lap dance.

"Shit," he breathed out under his breath, "Sorry I made you stay."

"It's okay. I should move on anyway, right?" you smiled assuringly at him. You don't think you've ever given such a fake smile in your life.

"Y/N," Soobin trailed off, trying to pry the bottle that you were sipping on away from your hands, "Should we go?"

"No, it's fine," you gritted out, pointing at the bottle spinning to direct his attention. Your heart dropped as it landed on you.

"Truth or dare, Y/N?" Jay mumbled.

You weren't going to risk it; Jay was known for giving batshit ideas, so you settled on, "Truth."

"How many people did you sleep with or kiss on your year abroad?" he smirked.

"Zero," you deadpanned instantly, "For both."

Jay pouted at your boring answer, but gestured for you to choose the next person. It landed on Yuri, who chose dare bravely. You were starting to dissociate a little, but managed to murmur some dare about giving her phone to Sunghoon and letting him post whatever on her story.

The game continued a while with you trying to focus as much as possible at burning a hole through the glass of your drink with Soobin asking you if you were okay every couple of minutes. It was hard not to turn your head and steal glances at Sungchan and Jiwoo, whose laugh reverberated through the room, your bones and then into your heart.

You were certain Jiwoo was a nice girl, but where did she come from? All your friends convinced you that Sungchan hadn't entertained anyone despite the newfound attention that you leaving brought to him and even his friends never mentioned anything when they would occasionally talk to you. Surely Jiwoo and Sungchan were close, right? Close enough for them to be recommending each other things to do in the summer and close enough for Jiwoo to quite literally kiss him in front of everyone.

"Sungchan, truth or dare?" an unfamiliar voice caused your head to slowly lift up.

"Dare," it's the first time you've heard his voice the whole game.

"Kiss the person you'd want to date in this room."

A light gasp escaped nearly everyone's lips as you examined the smirking player. You definitely didn't recognise him; maybe he was a freshman. His eyes were darting with a cheeky glint between Sungchan and Jiwoo, assuming that he was setting up a couple by echoing Chaerin's earlier dare for him.

"Taesan, choose a different dare," Karina's voice boomed as she directed laser eyes towards the boy. He instantly frowned.

"Why? It's fun!"

"Choose a different dare," Soobin repeated next to you.

In that moment, you wanted the world to just cave in and swallow you up whole. You didn't think that you could bare to watch your ex-boyfriend- the one who held your heart but the one whose heart you stomped all over- kiss another girl in a confession. Despite that, you were completely paralysed in your spot, cross legged and head having turned to Sungchan's direction.

At the same time that Karina began to get up and say, "Y/N, let's go downstairs,", Sungchan had pushed himself out of his seat under the watchful eyes of Jiwoo.

"Fuck it," he had laughed dryly.

Your vision changed in a moment's notice. Sungchan was staring straight into your eyes bearing the emotions of pleading. Pleading to ask you if what he was about to do was okay.

You think that you probably nodded unconsciously, because in an instant, Sungchan's plump lips found yours again for the first time in a year. They slotted perfectly in between your hesitant mouth, but like a reflex, your brain had finally connected to your body again and started moving against him.

Similar to the earlier gasps from all those who had known about your history together, the whole group had gasped and fell silent as they watched the scene unfold.

The kiss was not gentle at all. He moved against you harshly, desperately and his hands on your cheeks burned your skin, lighting a thousand flames inside you. Sungchan tasted a bit like the beer he was drinking, but also like the cherry lip balm that you had once bought for him and got him addicted to in the past. It caught you so off guard that you fell back onto your hands behind you, causing him to push deeper against you.

You were both panting when he finally pulled away.

"Y/N," he murmured lowly against your lips, "Let's go to my room."

You remembered getting up. You remembered his fingers interlacing between yours. You remembered practically running through the corridors to reach his familiar door at the end. You remembered Sungchan pressing you up against the wall inside his room and connecting his lips to your neck.

Then you don't remember anything after.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

The next time your brain registers you're awake, there's a swirling in your stomach and something rising up your throat. In the lamp-lit glow of the seemingly strange room, you peeled the duvet off your sweating form and made a bee-line straight to the bathroom.

You didn't realise how you even knew there was a bathroom behind the door you had opened until a familiar hand was pulling your hair away from your face and rubbing your back as you emptied out the contents of your guts into the toilet.

"It's okay, baby," he cooed sweetly. The term of endearment flew over your head pretty much immediately, but your heart probably skipped a quick beat.

Tears brimmed at your lashes and threatened to spill as you hurled and hurled. How much had you had to drink?

"Sungchan?" you croaked out in between heaves.

"Yeah, it's me. I'm here," he whispered into the dark, "You're in my room at the frat house."

Binge drinking wasn't a common reoccurrence of your freshman and sophomore days, but when you did, you always threw up in the middle of the night and became disorientated. You never knew where you were and how you got there.

When you finally finished throwing up, Sungchan had already tied your hair back with a tie he found on your wrist and had pulled you up against his body in the bathroom. With the lamp in his room on and the door open, you could make out his sleepy figure and messy hair in the mirror.

"Here, wash your face and brush your teeth," the toothbrush he handed you was old, but you recognised it as the one you kept in his room for the nights you would sleep over. Despite the banging headache and the questions floating around in your head, you managed to follow his instructions. There was no makeup left on your face from what you could tell, so someone must have taken a wipe to your face. You just splashed some water to refresh yourself and brushed your teeth to get the nasty taste out of your mouth.

Looking down, you were still in the skirt and college top from the party, but your socks and shoes had been replaced with fluffy socks that you loved to sleep in and all of your jewellery removed. Sungchan was waiting at the edge of his bed, eyes only half opened until you stepped back into the room again.

It looked the same as when you left, with a few pictures of you together removed in places. There were some weights in the corner too, but otherwise, it was a picture perfect reflection of before, as if time never passed.

"What happened? What am I doing here?" your throat burned from all the heaving you had been doing, but Sungchan passed you a water bottle and a pill, "All I remember was the game and you kissing me."

"We went to my room, but you passed out pretty quick," Sungchan recounted, "Sorry I kissed you. I slept on the floor, by the way."

You noticed the pillow and blanket missing from the bed. From the digital clock on Sungchan's desk, you could see it was still only 4am.

"Thanks for taking care of me. I'll catch a taxi home now," you looked around the room for your shoes, "Sorry for the vomit and stuff."

Sungchan rose to his feet, "Y/N, just stay. It's dangerous for you to leave at this time and you need to rest. It's okay. If it makes you uncomfortable, I can sleep in Eunseok's room."

Although your brain was blaring alarm signals in your mind and telling you to get out of there before anything else tragic could happen, your heart belonged to the bed that you missed sharing with him.

You sighed heavily and crawled back under the covers. With your eyes closed, you bared your true feelings into the silent room, "Please stay."

"Okay," he hummed, walking over to the other side of the bed where you assumed that he set up the pillow and blanket.

"Can you sleep with me? On the bed?" your voice was so quiet and hesitant despite your state that Sungchan didn't know if he just conjured that in his imagination until you spoke again, "Please?"

You shuffled over closer to your side of the bed closer to the door. He slid in on his side, closer to the window. Your head was spinning even lying down and you could feel yourself slipping out of consciousness already as his body heat combined with yours to wrap you up in a comfortable and familiar sensation.

"Y/N?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm lying. I'm not sorry I kissed you. I'm sorry that you had to see her kiss me though."

"Why?"

"I'd never want you to think that I want anyone else other than you."

Your awareness faded into nothingness as you felt Sungchan's hands slip in between yours under the sheets.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

"Y/N? What the fuck happened last night? Karina texted me and said some shit went down upstairs and you disappeared with Sungchan?" Minjeong's voice was laced with worry as she rushed to the door the second you stepped through.

Although she looked as haggard as you, she was much more preoccupied about where you went after she handed you your 3rd mojito of the night. You winced at her volume, "My head hurts like shit, Jeong. And my heart too."

"Jay told me what happened. Are you okay?" Heeseung's voice was quieter as you entered the open plan living space. He was sat on your couch with a bowl of cereal in the space between his crossed legs and Minjeong's iPad playing some TV show on the coffee table.

"Y/N? Hello?" Minjeong waved in your face.

"I don't want to talk about it, guys," you groaned, "Some girl kissed him. He kissed me. We went to his room. I passed out immediately and woke up throwing up. That's all."

"You didn't talk? Not this morning?" she prodded on.

It was only 11am. Your face involuntary cringed with regret.

Minjeong gasped dramatically, "Y/N, if you tell me right now that you left before he even woke up, I'm literally going to kill you. Y/N, that's such shitty behaviour. Honestly."

"Please don't make me feel worse than I already do," you sniffled as her words brought tears to your eyes, "I literally don't know what to do. All I want to do is let him go for his sake, but he keeps dragging me back to him."

She wrapped you up in a tight hug and smoothed out your hair, "Y/N, just go back to his room and tell him how you feel. Let him tell you how he feels too. You're going to keep going around in circles if you keep running from him, and it's going to end in heartbreak again."

You cried into her shoulders for a few minutes in sheer frustration, until she pushed you out of the door and made Heeseung drive you mid-bowl of cereal to the frat house to make sure you actually went inside.

On your grand exit out of the house that you prayed would go unnoticed, you had ran into Shotaro in the living room cleaning. He had given you a disappointed look, but your pleading eyes convinced him not to say anything as you slipped out of the door shortly after waking up. The expression on your face must have told him that you were sneaking away from his best friend.

It was Shotaro who opened the door for you when you knocked just 20 minutes after you left.

"You came to your senses?" Shotaro quirked an eyebrow at you as he stepped aside to let you in. You waved goodbye to Heeseung as he drove back in the direction he came in.

"I'm sorry, Taro."

"I'm not the one you should be saying that to," he sighed defeatedly, "Please don't hurt him again, Y/N. I love you both, but please."

All you could give him was a faltering smile as you ascended up to the second floor again. There were still some cups and miscellaneous items left strewn around the house, so you assumed that the frat brothers were mostly still asleep.

You tiptoed up to Sungchan's room and knocked three times, lightly, before pushing the door open. He was still curled up tightly on his side of the bed, cuddling a stuffed bear that you got him. It was exactly how you found him when you woke up again in the morning.

His face was so peaceful and angelic when he slept, soft snores escaping between his parted lips. In the past, you used to wake him up by peppering kisses on his smooth skin until he woke up. He used to wake up confused, until a smile would invade his face when he realised you were there. It used to make your heart feel all tight and warm in the best way possible.

Your breath hitched when Sungchan stirred to face his body towards you. Though his eyes stayed close, his breathing became noticeably shallower.

"You left," his voice was mercifully devoid of accusation, but it made your heart split down the middle all the same.

"I'm so sorry," it was pathetic, but that was all you could bring yourself to say.

Unwrapping his arm out from the tangle with his stuffed plushie, he patted the empty space on the bed that was still a bit warm. The weight of your body dropping onto the bed caused him to scooch a bit closer to you with his eyes still firmly closed.

"Can we just stop being sorry now? You're back now with no plans to leave again, so why do you keep running away from me?"

"Sungchan," you breathed out his name, but he opened his mouth again.

"I'll prove to you that all I want is still you. There's no one else, Y/N. You hurt me a lot, but I know you didn't want to. Let's give it another go. Do it properly and call each other boyfriend and girlfriend," his lips tugged up into a soft smile.

You didn't even know when you started crying but at the sound of your sniffle, his hands came up to wipe at your cheeks.

"Why are you crying?"

"What did I do to deserve someone like you? You deserve someone better," you choked out through your hot tears.

He let out a soft laugh as his eyes finally opened slowly and met yours, "Stop asking questions and saying sorry and just accept that I want to love you, Y/N."

His words triggered a waterfall of tears to stream down your face, but he pulled you down into the bed with him and wrapped you up in his arms tightly. It felt like home again.

"I loved you, Sungchan. I did."

He brushed the hair out of your face and planted a searing kiss on your temple, "I know, Y/N. I knew. Stop crying and go back to sleep with me. It'll all be okay when we wake up. I promise, baby."

He tucked his bear into your grasp and pulled the sheets over your bodies again. His arms returned around you and he continued to press the most gentle touches of his lips on your forehead, your temples, your nose and finally onto your lips that held back choked sobs until you slipped out of consciousness.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

"I wanna know everything you did in New York," Sungchan requested softly as he swung next to you. On the walk to your apartment from his that he accompanied you on after you both woke up, you spotted the playground equidistant between both residences empty. The two of you had spent a few nights there in the past swinging beside each other and talking, so it seemed perfect to go there again to talk- somewhere public and open.

You texted Minjeong that you were on the way back to your flat to change and freshen up and she kindly left with Heeseung as to not make the situation any more awkward or tense by having them meet in such a circumstance. Sungchan just sprawled in your bed and scrolled on his phone as you showered, changed and applied your skincare. After a night of drinking, throwing up and not moisturising after washing your face in the middle of the night, your skin had been going through it. When you plugged in your hairdryer and made him scooch over silently so you could sit on the bed, Sungchan had sat up and taken the dryer out of your grasp, motioning for you to turn around.

"Someone's watched Queen of Tears," you humoured over at him as the humming and heat began to fill the room.

"Just like the entire country," he jested back, "I guess we're a bit like them."

"Chaebols who get married and hate each other until one of them gets a seemingly incurable illness?" through the mirror at the end of your bed, you saw Sungchan roll his eyes playfully.

"Two people that find their way back to each other," he had corrected softly.

His words struck you silent, just watching him direct the dryer at your hair while thoughts swarmed in your head. You weren't sure if your neck was burning up from the dryer or from his fingers bumping against your skin every so often.

Since the two of you woke up, you could probably count on your hands how many times you'd spoken. You'd settled into this comfortable, but weighted silence knowing that sooner or later you'd probably have to properly talk to navigate the events of the night prior. You had delayed it a bit by asking to go home and change and he walked you all the way wordlessly other than suggesting to go to the park after.

When you were done getting ready, the two of you made your way to the park. This time, Sungchan had grabbed your hand firmly in his at the very first instance of your skin brushing. He was much more bold than when you had left.

"What do you want to know?" you quirked an eyebrow as he kicked off the ground to swing higher.

"If it was everything you dreamed of. If you missed home. If you made friends," he listed out, looking over at you.

You sighed and thought back. Over the past few weeks since you'd been back, everyone had asked you the same questions. For the most part, you had given the same answer to all of them robotically, but you felt like Sungchan deserved a bit more than your usual spiel.

"The city was incredible. New York was always my dream. I got to travel a little around the country too, so that was nice. It got really lonely pretty quickly, even though I made a lot of friends. It's just so busy and everyone has their own thing," you recounted slowly, "I missed home as soon as I left, but I do miss the friends I made in New York. America is very different to Seoul though."

"Did you mean what you said at the party? There was no one else?" his voice was shaky as he asked. You knew it wasn't something he took lightly.

"I wouldn't lie to you," you affirmed strongly, "I really did miss you and regretted everything the second I left. I was too ashamed to admit my mistake, so I'm sorry for hurting you unnecessarily. I don't regret going to New York, but I regret leaving you."

He stops the swing by planting his feet firmly. His eyes bore into yours as he tried to analyse your emotions.

"I grew a lot in that year apart, so I guess I should thank you for that. I learned that I should fight for what I want and I think we can be better this time around," Sungchan nodded, "And I missed you a lot. I keep saying it, but I just want you to know I never hated you or thought of you in anger while you were away."

The silence that followed must have freaked him out a little because he quickly continued.

"And about Jiyoon. Just, um, ignore her, please. I never knew she felt that way and I promise that I never acted in a way that might have conveyed that I felt the same," Sungchan blurted out with wide eyes, "I just- didn't know how to bring you up to her. We honestly didn't see each other very much; she just exaggerated."

You giggled a little at his panic and reached over the iron links to take his hand, "I trust you, Sungchan. You were free to do anything you wanted, but still, I trust you. You're allowed to have friends."

With a squeeze of his hand, Sungchan stood up and loomed over you on your swing. He tugged softly to get you up on your feet and clasped his hands around your waist when you did. Sungchan pulled you close to him, chest to chest.

Gasping, you looked around to make sure the playground was still empty, "Sungchan!"

He nuzzled his face down, close against yours with your foreheads pressed together, "You're all I could ever want. Please don't leave me again."

Your body completely melted into his as you brought your cold hands up to his warm cheeks. Bravely, you pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, just barely missing his lips, "I won't, Channie."

"Is it too fast to tell you I love you? I've been waiting to say it for over a year," Sungchan pulled his head back and scrunched his face up, "Does that make me too much of a loser? Being this down bad for you?"

All the tension and stress left your body; you could finally return to normal and joke with Sungchan as you giggled into his neck, "Maybe. Do you not want to be?"

"No, I love you," he chuckled along, grazing his nose against yours again before pressing his warm lips on yours.

His lips were pillowy, parting your lips and allowing him to push deeper. He was much more gentle this time than the night before, but a squeeze on your waist caused your breath to hitch and allowed him to run tongue along your bottom lip. You could feel the outpour of emotions in his kiss and how desperate he was to let you know them.

In the year without Sungchan, your heart grew fonder and fonder and you thought to yourself how you were never going to waste another minute with him.

Sungchan had been the first to pull away, looking down at you with half-lidded, passion-filled eyes, "Let's go back before some family comes and reports us to the police."

"Ha, for doing what?" you teased, hooking your fingers around his belt loops.

His eyes transformed into a glare as he stepped away from you and moved towards the exit, "Very funny, Y/N. Yours or mine?"

"Mine," you shrugged, "Minjeong's out with Heeseung and your frat brothers are all home and hungover."

Sungchan just grinned at you, swinging an arm around your shoulder and pulling you tight to his body, "I can't wait to tell everyone you're mine again."

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

The last game of the season was the national finals. You had been nervous all week watching Sungchan leave every day for extra practice when he usually only trained once a week with the team.

With a cup of cola in one hand and a cardboard sign in the other, you fought through the crowd on the bleachers to find the available seat between some of your friends. Minjeong was already settled in her seat, scolding Seunghan and Sohee for playing with her I <3 Heeseung homemade headband.

"You made it!" Chanyoung clapped happily as you sat between him and his older cousin. On the other side of him, the rest of the boys waved at you excitedly.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, of course!" you beamed. The whole arena was vibrating with excitement as nearly the whole student population turned up for the game. It was the final big event in the school calendar before the stress of final exams took over, so everyone was letting their hair down a little.

There was a section of supporters of the other team tucked away in the corner, but otherwise the people meshed together in a sea of your school colours. They had won the draw as to which school the game would be played at. You yourself was sporting a jersey nearly identical to the one that Sungchan would be coming out in soon. The shirt on his back fit his frame nicely, but it draped over you like a dress.

"Channie's gonna play good tonight because his lucky charm's here," Wonbin snorted teasingly, "He was shit all of last season."

"Wonbin," Eunseok hissed, but you just laughed with the long-haired boy.

"I'm really excited. I know they'll win." you waved the "GO #23" sign towards them.

You watched the field in anticipation as they ran out to erupting cheers from the supporters and watched as Sungchan searched the crowds for his group of friends as soon as they settled in a line. He waved in a small gesture, but all of you stood up and flailed your hands everywhere. You shook the sign vigorously and watched as his face contorted in awe and appreciation.

The game was absolutely nerve wracking. Your arms were interlocked and clutched tightly with Minjeong's and the two of you moved like one being standing up to shout at bad referee decisions or cheer at good tackles. Heeseung and Sungchan were playing well up front together, dominating the field so far with a few decent shots on target. Being the most dangerous on the field, the other team's defence were taking them on left, right and centre, causing your faces to be stuck in a permanent grimace for the first half.

Seunghan tried to start a cheer at half-time and that provided enough entertainment for your group when it miserably failed to notice the passage of time. In fresh shirts and refreshed motivation, your team went all out and scored 2 goals. Heeseung's celebrations towards Minjeong were sweet and had her swooning with flushed cheeks.

The other team had managed to score a goal, but in the 87th minute, Sungchan had broken away from his marker around the halfway line and poured all of his might into completing his run to the goal. The goalkeeper had a lot of time to anticipate Sungchan's goal, but his left foot was powerful enough to send the ball hurtling past the keeper's fingers and into the back of the net.

Screaming and yelling in joy, Sungchan slid in the direction of your friends and blew kisses in your direction. Beaming ear to ear, you deafened your friends with your ecstatic whoops. His teammates jumped on his body and then dragged him back to his position for the final 3 minutes.

Safe to say, they won the final.

After a celebration with medals, Prosecco and school cheers, you were waiting in the lobby just outside the changing rooms.

Sohee was talking your ear off about some game that he had started playing with Seunghan when a hand snaked around your waist and you felt the flutter of lips hovering over your neck.

"There's my girl. Hi, baby," he murmured against you. After sweating for 90 minutes, the boys definitely all had to take showers, so his hair was still slightly dripping over the jersey on your back.

"Channie, I'm so proud of you. Congratulations!" spinning around in his grip, you hooked your arms around his neck as he buried his head in yours.

"Your support meant everything to me. Thank you for the banner! I have the best girlfriend ever," he pulled back and beamed down at you, planting a peck on your expectant lips.

Despite having been officially his girlfriend for over 6 months now, the title still made your heart flutter to this day. You'd never forgive your past self from depriving yourself from having Sungchan as you had him now. Despite being the sweetest companion in your early university days, he had held himself back a little due to your hesitation.

Now that you were all in, Sungchan showered you with love, praise and support in anything you did. You tried your best to reciprocate and most days, it felt like your heart could explode every time you looked at him from how your love seemed to grow more and more every day.

He was the perfect gentleman and the perfect boyfriend. He brought you snacks whenever you had to stay late at the library and tucked you tight in his chest under the covers on the days that the world seemed to be collapsing - it never did, maybe thanks to him.

In short, adoring Sungchan became part of your daily routine. A task that you were happy to continue for the rest of your life.

"And I have the most amazing boyfriend in the world," you rested your cheek against his chest as you squeezed him tighter, "I love you, Sungchan."

His heartbeat thumped in your ear as he smoothed out your hair with his palm. The rhythm was strong and constant, as dependable as he was. You felt the love in his touch, no need for words.

Jung Sungchan was a man of his word. As long as you stayed by each other's side, everything would be okay. The world continues to spin. Your heart continues to beat for him.

[gguk-n]

Renewed Passion (Lewis Hamilton x Reader)

Summary- What happens when you meet your right person, wrong time after 18 years of actively avoiding him? Will the love that stayed dormant bloom in full spring or stay dormant? Will you give your heart a chance or will you listen to your brain?

I wanted to make this as cohesive as possible. Sorry if it's not. Google translated Italian. Kinda fucking long lmao. Implied smut.

Part 2

mio dolce bambino- my sweet child

Amore- Love

Il moroso- Sweetheart

[Reader's POV]

I opened the door to my neighbours house and walked right into the kitchen. Manuela was making pasta. It was our traditional bi-annual movie night with the Antonelli's. Our families have been neighbours and friends for generations. Me and Manuela had grown closer after she married Marco, so close in fact, that she made me Andrea's god mother when he was born.

Speak of the devil, Andrea walked into the kitchen and greeted me with a kiss on the cheek. Andrea was on track to becoming a F1 driver. He had the passion and drive in him. I've watched him race a couple times. But I try to keep my distance from race tracks. "I missed you, zia" Kimi exclaimed. I smiled at him patting his back, "aww, I missed you too" "I wouldn't have, if you came to the race." he pouted. "Everyone had come. It was literally the home race and you didn't" he sulked. "I'm sorry sweetheart. I just had a lot of work" I reasoned while giving him a hug. The real reason I didn't go to the race wasn't work and it made me feel like a shitty aunt for not being there for this kid, I considered my own.

"Toto and the Mercedes team met me, again." Kimi announced. I looked at him quizzically. "If you had been present in your nephew's life, you would know." he chided. I apologised and asked him to elaborate. "Well, Toto needs another driver on the grid for Mercedes." he said. "Oh, does Lewis need a new teammate." I asked. "For someone who's nephew is a F2 driver, you know nothing about the sport." he declared. "You know I don't enjoy sports." I reasoned. Actually I stopped watching F1 after 2007. "Actually, Lewis is moving to Ferrari next year, so Toto needs another driver next year with Russel." I was shocked. "Zia, are you listening?" Kimi asked. "Oh, yeah, sorry." I apologised. "You have to come to the Monaco race." he demanded. "You know I'm so busy and I don't even get the race, it'll be so annoying for you." I tried to convince him. He was having none of that. Sadly, I was emotionally black mailed into attending the race in Monaco.

The race weekend was in full swing, Manuela was busy and couldn't make it, so I had to be present for the whole weekend with Marco. Formula one were honouring Ayrton Senna. I was forced by Kimi on to the paddock. With my luck, I almost immediately ran into Sebastian as Kimi left me alone to greet his friends. "Y/N?" Sebastian squinted at me. I smiled and walked towards him, raising my hand with a smile, "Yeah, that's me, Sebastian." I said. He shook my hand. "It's been so long, when did I last see you?" he asked, getting lost in thought. "Macau Grand Prix, 2005" I said. His eyes widened. "I'm surprised, you even recognised me." I laughed. "I don't think I can forget, you and Lewis were insufferable. Both of you made sure we felt lonely." he reminisced. I faked a laugh, "Yeah, that was so long ago. How've you been?" I asked trying to change the topic. "I've been good. I retired." he said. "I heard. That was a good run." I nodded along to my words. "What brings you here?" he quizzed. "My god-son is a F2 racer. He dragged me here." I replied. "Really?? Who is it? Do I know him?" he questioned. "I'm not sure if you do, but Kimi Antonelli is my god-son." I explained. "The 17 year old Toto is after." he chuckled. "It was nice meeting you. See you around Y/N" Sebastian said while leaving after being summoned.

I walked around the paddock. This was my first time in Monaco. I had been able to avoid most of Kimi's races when he was younger since he would believe whatever I said. As he grew older, it kept getting even more difficult since he is quite persistent and tenacious when he wants something; traits you want in a racer not your nephew.

I enjoyed the cool wind blowing through the paddock until I heard Kimi, "Zia" he shouted out to me. I turned around to see Kimi running towards me, "I want you to meet someone." he said dragging me to where he came from. We stopped in front of the man I spent the past 18 years avoiding. "Zia, this is Lewis Hamilton. Lewis this is my god-mother, Y/N Y/L/N." he introduced us. Lewis was always and will always be the love of my life. I kept up with the sport enough to know what he did. Eventually, I stopped obsessing over it. He slowly faded into my memories. He was the reason I never paid any attention to F1. I avoided it as much as possible. He was my right person, wrong place. I never truly moved on from him, I mulled over my thoughts as I was snapped out of them to quickly raise my hand towards him. He shook my hand. It was still slightly rough from all the years of driving; tears pricked my eyes.

Kimi couldn't stop gushing about me to Lewis. His eyes seemed so familiar yet so unknown. The years had treated him well, having won the World Driver's Championship 7 times and ageing like fine wine; I thought. I had lost track of what the conversation in front of me was until Kimi excused himself and asked me to keep Lewis company till he returned. My mouth hung open to protest as Kimi walked away. "You'll catch a fly, darling." Lewis said while using his index finger to close my mouth. I moved back from the sudden touch. "Do you still hate me?" he asked with a pained expression. I could never hate you Lewis, those words remained in my throat. "No" I mumbled. "That's a relief. I hope you only remember the good times." he stated hopefully. I just smiled at him. "I should get going" I announced, turning around until I felt a hand wrapped around my wrists, "Aren't you supposed to be in the Mercedes hospitality" he asked softly. I hated it when he was right. I turned around with a forced smile; "It's my first time in Monaco, I gonna walk around for a bit." I said pulling my hand away from him. "Then I can walk with you, since I've been living here for years" he exclaimed. "If I wanted to walk around with my ex, I would've said so." I stated firmly; walking away swiftly. This was going to be a long weekend.

After walking around for a while and tiring myself out, I met up with Marco who was in deep conversation with Toto. Both of them greeted me and Marco introduced me to Toto. I was a casual spectator in on their conversation when Lewis joined in. Marco knew of the history me and Lewis shared, he would be on the receiving end of my pining. They must've ran into each other at some point; did he never mention me? or Ask about me to Lewis; I wondered. "You look bored" broke me out of my thought, Lewis's lips extremely close to my ear. I shifted to the side, almost falling from losing my balance.I braced my self for the impact that never came, strong arms enveloped me, pulling me close. Time slowed as I found myself locked in gaze with my saviour. I could feel his breath against my face; a sense of warmth spread though my stomach. "You okay" he murmured softly. It was like time had stopped. My eyes slowly darted to the two other men in front of; I quickly pushed Lewis away and straightened myself. "I'm fine. Thank you for catching me. I'm gonna go get some water" I rambled, excusing myself to the refreshments. I almost sprinted to the table, grabbing a bottle; when Lewis took it from me and handed me back an opened bottle. "Still as clumsy as I remember" Lewis chuckled. I gulped the water down. This was not how I imagined ever running into my ex. Let's hope the weekend ends without any more trouble.

I was ready to leave mid-way through the day, but Kimi had a tight hold on my arm as he took me along to introduce me to his friends. I had brought some cookies and treats as a present for the other boys. They all seemed quite well mannered, I must say, for a bunch of teenager. Even when me and Lewis dated, it was like we had magnets attached to us, we'd always be gravitating towards each other. My eyes met Lewis's for a split second before I brought my attention back to Oliver Bearmen, a good friend of Kimi's.

Flashback

"Come on, Y/N. I don't wanna go alone." Mia, my roommate moaned. "Then don't go" I chided. The look of shock on her face was priceless. "Those tickets were fucking expensive and you said you'd do anything for me." she pleaded. "yeah, anything means anything around the house. You know I don't even like racing, it's so" I stopped looking for a better word but none came to mind "boring" I continued. "You did not just say that" she replied in disbelief. That's how I ended up at a Formula Renault UK race in Silverstone in 2003.

Mia had gotten us good seats, I decided to find some snacks to entertain me during the race so I excused myself to the stands to grab something. On the way there, I ran into a man. I braced myself for the fall instead two arms wrapped themselves around my waist steading me and pulling me closer. I opened my eyes to be face to face with a pair of chocolate brown eyes. My heart lurched into my chest. "You okay" he asked. "I'm fine" I replied still in his arms. "As much as I would love to have you in my arms, I have some where to be" he stated. Embarrassed, I fixed myself up. "Thank you..." I looked at him expectantly to say his name. "Lewis, Lewis Hamilton" he replied extending his arm out. "Thank you, Lewis. Y/N" I said while shaking his hand. "You're here for the race, right?" he asked. "Sadly, yes" I responded. A playful smile played across lips at the answer, "well then, let's meet after it's done?" he asked hopefully. "Sure, at least I have something to look forward too" I smiled. "I'll try to make the race eventful" he called out as he ran away.

I didn't know the guy I ran into was a racer. Only found that out when he won the race and was called on the podium. I decided to return to the same place we had the collision, in hopes of running into him again. I waited around until I heard someone call out my name; there stood a very sweaty and wreaked of champaign Lewis. "Congratulations" I commented. "Thank you" he replied. "Didn't take you for a racer" I cocked my eyebrow at him. "Did you like the race?" he asked with a cocky grin on his face. "Not really" I chuckled. "Well I can make it up to you, if you would like me to" he questioned. "And how would you do that?" I asked. "Go on a date with me" he asked with the softest and brightest eyes. "You drive a hard bargain, Mr Hamilton" I replied. I acted like I was thinking before I agreed to go out with him.

Present time

"Earth to zia, you there?" Kimi asked. "Yeah, what were you boys saying, again?" I asked. "Do you have a crush on Lewis?" he whispered in my ear. "What?" I almost screamed. "You've been staring at him the whole time we were talking" he pointed out. Fuck, that's gonna be so embarrassing for me. "You know, he is single and your age. Do you want me to ask him for you?" he wiggled his eyebrows at me. "No no, I just got lost in thought." God, this is going to be tough. "Zia, look he's coming here. Act natural." Before I could comprehend what he meant, I was being greeted by Lewis for the third time today. Can this day end already? "You still find races boring?" he whispered in my ear. I pushed him away, Kimi was staring. "Yes, I hate races" I stated boldly. "Maybe I can change your mind." he teased. "No, thank you. If you will excuse me. Bambino" I tapped Kimi's shoulder, "I'm gonna go get something to eat. Would you like anything?" He said he didn't want anything so I left to get some food.

The day ended with me thankfully no longer running into Lewis anymore. But I did enjoy watching Kimi during free practise. He finished P8 and I consoled him by saying that they were just figuring stuff out and how everything worked. He seemed to cheer up and we ended up having dinner at a restaurant near by. The city was lit up with the hustle and bustle of the race. I saw a couple more racers and people asking for their autograph. I teased Kimi about forgetting me when he's a formula one driver and being too rich and famous for me. He looked appalled at the suggestion. The night came to a close with us back in our rooms and back in bed but sleep wasn't going to come to me this easy.

Flashback

Lewis was finally back from the races. Following him around was proving itself to be quite challenging while being a full time uni student. I decided to make the most of the little time we had together by dragging him around to an arcade, to the mall and lastly my couch so that we could watch Finding Nemo. Lewis was willing to entertain all my childish demands, I realised. We were cuddled up together, our legs intertwined, one of Lewis's hand was under my head and the other rubbing my hand. "You're distracting me, Amore" I muttered. "Pay attention to me them" he pouted. I turned my head around and pecked his lips, slowly turning my body around to face him. I cupped his cheeks; "I missed you" I mumbled against his lips, kissing him again. He pulled me closer by my waist, deepening the kiss. "I missed you too" he whispered against my neck as he left open mouth kisses down to my chest. His hand squeezed my ass, while his lips started suck on one spot. He pushed me against the sofa and took his shirt off in one swift motion.

Present Time

Okay, I need to stop thinking about Lewis, especially naked Lewis. This isn't helping my situation at all. Why am I acting like a teenager? This was starting to get humiliating for me.

After a troubled sleep, morning seem to come very late. I was pulled out of bed by Kimi who was very annoyed that I was still in bed. I quickly got dressed and met Kimi back at the paddock. I spent the whole day following Marco around like a lost puppy. I didn't even see Lewis the whole day. I guess the schedules don't match for F1 and F2. Part of me hoped to see him. I found myself searching the paddock for him. At the end of day I returned back to the hotel heartbroken.

Sunday was my last day in Monaco, Kimi did okay at the sprint. I congratulated him none the less. We decided to go out for dinner and it would be my treat. "I just wanted to do well, for you" Kimi sulked. "You did well, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you. You've come so far, mio dolce bambino" I said giving him a hug and pat on his back. I told him to rest and then we'll head out for dinner. I was looking for Marco to confirm the plan with him, when I saw Lewis, who looked visibly annoyed. "Hey" I waved at him. I saw him visibly relax and wave back at me. I found myself walking towards him, "Everything okay?" I asked. "Yeah, it's nothing. Just team issues" he huffed. "Sorry about that. I hope you can resolve it" I reassured. "Is this why you're moving to Ferrari, next year?" I questioned. "You know" he looked shocked. I laughed, "Kind of hard to miss, when Toto is actively pursuing my god-son." I chucked. "One of the reasons" he added. "Well, I hope you find success" I smiled at him. "Can I hug you?" he asked hopefully. I nodded and opened my arms for him, he found himself wrapping his arms around my waist. The sensation was so familiar, it didn't feel like we were hugging after 18 years. I started rubbing his back, whispering reassurances.

"How long are you here for?" he asked while pulling away from the hug. "I'll leave tomorrow morning." I replied. "You live in Italy?" he queried. I nodded. "Stay, for a few more days. I just, I've missed you" he announced. I bit my lip, "Do you remember why we broke up?" Lewis seemed to think for a moment.

Flashback

"Il moroso" I croaked, my voice hoarse from the screaming match we were having. "No, Y/N I don't get it. Why is it so hard for you to be there for me? It's the least I can ask for?" Lewis yelled. We had been going back and forth, I was in my third year of university and going to all his races while trying to pass the semester and doing an internship was proving to be difficult. It had put a strain on our relationship. He was only in the junior championships and required travelling a lot, I couldn't imagine how much he would be travelling once he was a formula one driver. I hadn't been to a race in a couple months and it was not something I was able to do as often as Lewis wished with the time and financial constraint. In all of this Lewis had seemed to forget that I had a life of my own that I was trying to build while in a foreign country trying to pursue my bachelors.

"Love, you know I can't make it to all the races" I reasoned. "Well, the others can. Some how you're the only one who is so fucking busy" he emphasised. I let out a sigh trying to calm myself down. "I really wanna be there for you Lew, but it's just not possible right now. I landed the best interning job for my degree. It'll help me with my future" I justified. "Your job is more important than me" he probed. I could feel the tears ready to fall, "No, it's not. But you're acting like yours is" I explained. He let out a strained laugh, "Just say it, you don't care about me" "You're putting words in my mouth" I argued. "There are no words to be put, when that's how you feel" he taunted. I ran a hand through my hair, almost pulling at my scalp; "Damn it, Lewis, I fucking love you and I want to be there for you. But you are behaving like a child" I called out. "If I am such a child, then break up with me" he snarled. We had fought before but never like this. We never even joked about breaking up. "I just want to support you and watch you succeed. But that doesn't mean I'll get to do that beside you at all time, I have a life of my own too, you know" I tried to reason with him. "I will succeed, whether I have you around or not. I can't be with someone who can't prioritise me" he said. I faked a laugh, "Ha, says the guy who can't see past his stupid cars, you know what Lewis, I hope you succeed, I truly do. But I also hope you miss me and yearn for the woman that supported you through so much every time you succeed." I declared. "Now, leave my fucking house. We're through" I shouted while pushing him out before my tears started to fall.

I spent the next few days crying, moping around, eating a shit ton of ice cream and having Marco console me. That man really heard me pine and crib for months. The only time I was truly happy during those sad months was Andrea's birth and being asked to be his god-mother. I took those duties very seriously. That kid helped me move on from my first adult relationship and heart break.

Present Day

I've dated multiple men after Lewis, but no one stuck. I never even settled down because deep down my heart was still stuck on him. I kept up with Lewis's life until I graduated and slowly lost the time to keep up with formula one. When I heard he had won his first world championship, I was in London, working at my 9-5 when my colleague ran to me to announce that a Brit was the latest world champion. I saw his face plastered on the news and felt some sort of relief, watching him succeed like he said he would. I had almost forgotten about it all, until Kimi joined the Mercedes drivers academy. I had kept my space from all his races after he transitioned to single seat racing.

"You know what you said, the day we broke up, came true" he uttered. I gazed inquisitively. "About me succeeding, but missing you" he stated. I looked at him in disbelief for a moment, before the words came back to me, I placed a hand on my chest in shock, "I didn't mean" I said before I was cut off by "I know you didn't. But I did miss you a lot whenever I won a race or for that matter my championships." he smiled at me, reminiscing all those moments. I smiled at him sadly. "I'm sorry for ruining your wins" I mumbled. "You didn't ruin them. But" he said with a glimmer in his eyes, "there's a way you can make it up to me" I peered at him with uncertainty. "Go on a date with me" he said. "Lewis" I responded. "Y/N" he replied. "You remember why we broke up, I still have a job that I love and my life has really worked out in my favour" I commented. "So do I. However, you can not" he stressed, "cannot hold what I said at 21 against me." he announced. I ruminated on that thought for a moment, "Ok, but this is your last chance." "Love, do you take me for a fool? I would never let this opportunity go. I'll never repeat the mistakes of my past, I promise" he said while holding both my hands in his. I leaned in and pecked his cheek. "I'll stay back in Monaco for a couple more days. This is your chance to convince me why I should date you?" I stated. "You'll know that you want me in a couple of hours." he grinned. "Don't get too cocky Mr Hamilton" I smirked. He just leaned in with his breath fanning my skin, "Can I kiss you, darling?" he requested. "You gotta earn it, Hamilton" I teased. "I've waited for so long for this" he mumbled. "Then you can wait a little longer" I giggled. I felt a pair of hands against my waist. "I could've if you weren't this close" he said with our lips almost touching, he intently eyed them. "Maybe one won't hurt" I thought loudly, my resolve breaking. "Thought so" he chuckled, while leaning in to kiss me.

I might do a part 2, but like if you guys want one. I know where I want to go with this, if i write another part. If you like this lemme know, it'll encourage me to write the next part then thank you for reading!! Hope you liked it!!

[satowooo]

DID YOU LIKE HER IN THE MORNING? g. satoru

contents. angst, almost a second chance romance.

Fumbling with Gojo Satoru was the biggest mistake one can ever make. Unfortunately, the biggest mistake you ever made.

High school love… will probably be the last time you'll ever fall in love again. It swept you off your feet, got your heart jumping off your chest as it beat loudly towards the man you pine over, the love that turned your darkest days to a full ray of sunshine, to the point that it felt so unreal. So surreal. So perfect.

How did you let that happen?

So crossing paths with the man you deeply and greatly love, even until today, brought so many memories back to your mind. As a gust of wind blows past your face, a flashback of what once was got your heart reeling and clenching, as Gojo Satoru walked right past you.

Walk right towards a stranger. Towards a woman.

With a smile on his face that tells you, “I've moved on.”

And then there's the bittersweet taste in your tongue, as you stared so hopelessly still in love, hopeless still in pain over the smile that used to be yours.

“Did you like her in the morning? Right before the sleep left your eyes?”

“Toru, wake up,” You said as you left featherlight kisses on his cheek.

There was a small smile that crept on Satoru's face, pulling you closer to his embrace as he leaned in to your kisses. Then, he slowly rubs his nose against yours, his eyes still closed as he murmurs, “Just a bit more.”

A satisfied hum left your lips as you stared at his sleepy state, with his eyes still closed as the two of you drowned into each other's embrace. It was the quiet and calm atmosphere that you loved most during this hour, and the light smell of breakfast spreading through the air from the kitchen, and most of all, the look on Satoru's face as he slowly opens his eyes.

He blinked once to rub the sleep away from his eyes, and then there's the sincere smile across his face. The way his eyes softly stared at you, full of love and the genuine emotions that always show his affections, and you swear you could stay like this forever. His eyes were always too vocal, that always seemed to tell you that there was nothing else he knows other than to love you.

“Good morning, love.”

Did he do this with her too?

“Did you laugh over cold cups of coffee? That you hate but still drank anyway.”

Satoru was never a coffee drinker, but he'd force himself to drink one just because he sees how you loved it. Despite how coffees always keeps him up at night, and how his sleeping schedule was already messed up as it was, he'd still do anything just to make you smile.

“One Americano, and a Hazelnut Brew.” The waiter said as he placed the two cups of coffee at your table. You gave him a small smile and a ‘thank you’, then stared unknowingly at Satoru’s choice of drink.

“Are you sure you're drinking that?”

“Of course. It's good to have a little caffeine in my system every now and then.” Satoru would say smugly, sipping on the straw nonchalantly.

You watched the way he slowly tasted the drink, anticipating his reaction at the black coffee that is now running on Satoru's throat. You watched the way he slowly moves the cup away from his lips, and back on the table with an uneasy look that he tried to mask with a tight smile.

Don't get him wrong. It's not that the drink didn't taste good—it was perfect—so perfect that this might be the last time he'll ever let his tongue taste something so foreign to his buds. Satoru shivers, before he looks at you helplessly.

“Is it bad?” You chuckled.

“Good. Good…” He pouted, taking another sip as he looked away to avoid your gaze. It was so easy to read Satoru, and it warmed your heart even more that he was willing to do this just for the sake of nothing, just Satoru being your Satoru.

“We can switch drinks–”

“Absolutely not. I told you, it taste sooooo good!” The exaggeration was so evident in his voice as he took a long sip, ending with a cough and a frown on his face that made you laugh even more.

And now, you could only laugh painfully at the memory.

It was always a wonder to you ever since you two broke up. Did Satoru ever change? Did Satoru ever try coffee at least once in his life again while you were away just to taste the bittersweet memory of your love that didn't last? Did Satoru ever force himself to drink a good cup of coffee on a blind date just to impress the lady sitting opposite from him, and ended up having thoughts of you instead?

Did he ever force himself to sit down, alone, in a coffee shop downtown and stared out the window, in hopes that someone could ring the cafés door, just to see it was you?

Because you did. Every single time you did. Your time stood frozen, slowed down inside a small shop, your coffee gone cold as you feel that familiar looming aura in your chest. It aches, and it aches, and it aches so bad. And you're staring at the space in front of you, where Satoru used to be.

“Did you like her touch at night time? Did all the pretending help you forget? Was she weightless in just your sweater? And does it feel heavy now to look at me instead?”

It's torturing, seeing him happy with someone else, which should've been you, could've been you. That smile would have stretch on his lips for you, because it had always been for you.

But now is different. Now is just you, eyes focused on the road ahead, where there was no Satoru walking on the same path, and him, walking in the direction right past your shoulder. And he didn't glance at you. Didn't seem to notice that it was you who was only a touch far away as he took a step. Didn't seem to know that it was his greatest love that brushed past him.

“Did your hands find her waist when she got sloppy? After just a few Manhattans in Berlin, would you kiss her goodnight, would you walk her inside? Did you hope the nights would never ever end? And again.”

“What's wrong, Satoru?”

His head shot up at the voice. Luna, his date, looked at him worriedly. He had been going on dates for quite a while now, after finally and barely getting over the break up that had occured years ago. And Luna was the first girl he had a second date with after the many failed attempts of other blind dates, that turned into another date. Until a month passed with her.

To Satoru, she was perfect. He didn't want to admit it. To him, everything will always be about you. But now, he's trying to make it seem like it's not, as he focused on everything about Luna instead.

“Nothing's wrong.” He smiled forcefully to assure her. He grabs her waist, leading her around the bustling crowd of the city to go on about their date. And she gives him a smile, a smile that always made him feel guilty.

“But answer the question, did you like her in the morning?”

At some point, maybe he did. He liked that feeling of the morning kisses and the smell of coffees and pancakes. He loved that quiet night time of nothing but the sound of their breaths, and the beat of their hearts. He liked the soft touches and taking her home, and kissing her forehead.

He liked the feeling.

But he was cursed. In every corner, every unknown face, every single girl he met, he will always try to find them in you. He liked the feeling, but it was never with you.

And he knows, whatever he had with this new girl, it will never last. Like it always did after you happened.

Because he's looking back. He's tilting his head to glance at your direction, clenching his fist as he stops himself from calling, from asking how you were, from pulling you back to him.

Just like you, he didn't know if you saw him cross paths with you. He hopes you noticed. He hopes you knew it was him. He hopes you'd look back too. Yet, he also hopes you wouldn't look back either, and see him with another, because it will pain him to see the look on your face, whether it be pain or acceptance.

This will always be the cruelest reality that the two of you will never accept. Satoru will always hope that it was you right next to him. And you will always hope that you have never let him go.

oh well...

[aubvrns]

just on time, sweetheart

| wanda maximoff x reader

Synopsis - You were running late because you missed your alarm. Who knew that a simple mishap could be met with connections from the past?

Note - i’m happy so lemme hurt you a bit #sadist

You weren't the type of student to be irresponsible.

You just happened to miss the aggravating sound of your alarm. It was just one of those mornings where your blanket feels much softer than it was when you slept. You bolted through the university halls, your bag bouncing against your back as you struggled to catch your breath. Your alarm betrayed you, and now sprinting to your second period, a strict voice cuts the uncomfortable silence.

"You're late, Miss Y/L/N."

You cursed under your breath and turned around, facing the disapproving gaze of Professor Fury. You had no excuses, not really. No one would believe that your alarm clock had miraculously decided to rebel against you this morning.

"Guidance office," The professor ordered, tapping his pen against his clipboard.

You groaned inwardly. Just great, you thought.

You turned on your heels and dragged yourself towards the guidance office, mood already sour. The last thing you needed was another lecture about punctuality and responsibility. As you pushed the heavy door open, you barely glanced at the person seated inside—until your gaze locked onto a pair of all-too-familiar green eyes.

Wanda Maximoff.

Your breath hitched, like you forgot how to breath. You heart slammed against your ribs, and for a moment, you wondered if the universe was playing some kind of cruel joke on you. The girl who had once whispered forever into her skin.

The girl who had shattered you. The girl who was now sitting right across from you, looking just as stunned.

A beat of silence stretched between them—thick, heavy, suffocating.

Then, the Dean cleared his throat. "Miss Y/L/N, since you have time to be late, you have time to be useful. Our new transfer student, Miss Maximoff, needs a tour of the campus. You’ll be her guide for the day."

Your blood ran cold.

The Dean continued, oblivious to the storm brewing between you two. "You'll show her around, make sure she knows where everything is. Understood?"

You forced herself to nod. Words were a foreign concept right now, especially when Wanda’s gaze was still piercing into her, unblinking, unreadable.

The Dean dismissed himself, and before you could think of an excuse, you found yourself stepping out into the hallway with Wanda right beside you. The silence stretched, clinging like ghosts.

Finally, Wanda spoke. "You look different."

You let out a humorless chuckle. "To you, maybe."

Wanda flinched, just barely, but you caught it. And for the first time in years, you felt something close to satisfaction.

It was going to be a long day.

-

The tour was hell.

Every hallway, every classroom—they all held the weight of things left unsaid, of a past neither of them had completely buried. You led Wanda through the university, pointing out the library, the gym, the best place to get coffee. You kept your words clipped, distant, careful.

You didn’t want to remember. But memories had a funny way of creeping in, uninvited.

"Do you still drink too much coffee?" Wanda asked suddenly, her voice softer than before.

You clenched your jaw. "Some things never change."

A flicker of something crossed Wanda’s face— regret? Guilt? You weren’t sure, and you didn’t care to find out.

"You were always late in high school too," Wanda mused. "I used to wake you up."

You swallowed hard. "Well, you’re not here to do that anymore, are you?"

The redhead didn’t respond, but you felt her gaze linger. It was the same way she used to look at you—like she saw through the walls you tried to build. Like she still remembered.

You hated it. Because you remembered too.

The remembrance of Wanda’s laughter in the morning, the way she used to tug you closer under the covers, whispering nonsense just to make you smile. You remembered Wanda’s hands, warm and certain, tracing constellations on your skin. You remembered the way Wanda had said, “I love you,” like it was a promise.

A promise that she had broken.

You clenched your fists, blinking back the sting behind your eyes. You wouldn't give Wanda the satisfaction of knowing you still cared.

You didn't.

Not anymore.

-

The tour ended at the courtyard, beneath the massive oak tree where students gathered between classes. It was the kind of place that should’ve been peaceful. But with Wanda beside you, the air felt suffocating.

"You don’t have to act like this, you know," Wanda said finally, her voice quiet.

You exhaled sharply. "Like what?"

"Like I never meant anything to you."

You turned to face her, something sharp curling in your chest. "You broke up with me, Wanda. You fell for someone else. What exactly do you expect from me?"

Wanda flinched, and you hated that she still cared enough to notice.

"Vision wasn’t—" Wanda hesitated, then sighed. "I thought you never took us seriously.”

"You thought wrong."

The words came out colder than you intended, but you didn’t regret them. Wanda searched your face, your expression unreadable. "I’m sorry."

You almost laughed. "You don’t get to be sorry." And just like that, the dam inside her cracked just a little.

Because the truth was, you had stayed. You had waited, you had hoped. You had watched as Wanda chose someone else, as if everything meant nothing. And now, she was supposed to pretend like everything was fine? Like the past didn’t still dig its claws into your heart?

You wouldn’t give Wanda the satisfaction. So instead, you turned on her heels and walked away. You walked furiously, each step slowly detaching yourself from the past

“Y/N, please.”

You didn’t look back. You refused to let yourself be vulnerable again.

But you knew Wanda’s was on your back, lingering like a wound that had never truly healed. Like an echo of something that still, somehow, refused to fade.

-

The wind was colder than usual, sending a shiver down your spine as you hurried across campus. The weight of Wanda’s gaze still lingered on you like a phantom touch, unwelcome and yet impossible to ignore.

You had thought you were over this. Over her.

You had spent years convincing herself that the past was just that—the past. But the second you saw Wanda sitting in that office, looking at her like she wasn’t a shattered remnant of what they once were, something inside her cracked. Not Wanda looking at her like she regretted it. Like she missed her.

You shook her head, trying to push the thoughts away. You weren’t going to do this. You weren’t going to let Wanda drag you back into a storm you barely survived the first time.

As you reached the hallway towards your locker, you heard your name.

"Y/N."

An all-too familiar voice called you. You clenched your jaw before turning, already knowing who you’d see.

Wanda stood a few feet away, arms crossed, shifting on her feet like she was hesitating. You arched a brow. "What do you want?"

Wanda hesitated, then sighed. "You’re mad."

You let out a hollow laugh. "Mad? No. That would mean I still care."

A flicker of something passed across Wanda’s face—hurt, maybe. "You never used to lie to me," Wanda murmured, almost like it was an afterthought.

You inhaled sharply. "That was before you made me question everything that came out of your mouth."

Silence stretched between them. The kind that wasn’t comfortable anymore.

"I didn’t want to do this here," Wanda muttered, running a hand through her hair. "But I don’t want to keep pretending either."

You scoffed. "That’s rich, coming from you." Wanda flinched, and for a moment, you almost felt guilty.

"You really think I didn’t love you?" Wanda asked, voice quieter now, like she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.

Your heart clenched, but you forced herself to stay distant. "I think that whatever we had wasn’t enough for you."

Wanda’s jaw tensed. "That’s not fair."

You took a step forward, and before you could stop herself, the words spilled out. "You left me, Wanda. You left us. And for what? Someone who didn’t even know you the way I did? Someone who didn’t—" She cut herself off, swallowing hard.

Wanda’s gaze softened. "Y/N…"

"Don’t," you sternly said.

Because if Wanda said your name like that again—like you still mattered—you weren’t sure you’d be able to keep standing.

"I never stopped loving you."

You clenched your fists. You didn’t believe it, because if you did, it would destroy you all over again.

-

For days, you did your best to avoid Wanda.

You took different routes to class, skipped places you knew Wanda might be, and buried herself in your studies. It should’ve been easy.

But then came the moments in between.

A glimpse of red hair across the courtyard. The sound of laughter that sounded too much like Wanda’s. The feeling of her eyes lingering on you when you weren’t looking. You hated how much space Wanda still took up in her mind.

Even now, as you sat in the back of the lecture hall, you could feel it. The ache of something unresolved. And then, as if the universe enjoyed watching you suffer, the professor spoke.

"You’ll be working in pairs for this project," he announced. "I’ll be assigning the partners."

You barely heard the names being called. You were too busy trying to focus on your breathing. There were at least twenty students in this class. There was no way you would get partnered with her.

"And lastly," the professor continued, flipping a page. "Y/L/N and Maximoff."

Your stomach dropped. The room blurred at the edges as you slowly turned your head, but Wanda was already looking at you.

And the worst part, she didn’t even look surprised.

"I can switch partners," you said as soon as class ended, already standing from your seat.

Wanda caught your hand, feeling her slightly caress your wrist, just like how she used to. "No, you won’t."

The touch burned. Not in the way it used to, soft and safe. But in a way that made you feel like she was drowning in everything she had tried to forget.

You pulled your arm back. "This isn’t going to work."

Wanda tilted her head. "Why? Because you still hate me?"

You exhaled sharply. "Because I don’t trust you."

For a second, something flickered in Wanda’s eyes— hurt, maybe. But then she straightened. "We don’t have to like each other to work together."

You clenched her fists. "Fine. But don’t expect anything more from me."

A small, bitter smile tugged at Wanda’s lips. "I never do."

You turned away before Wanda could see the way that sentence wrecked you. Because once upon a time, you had given Wanda everything. Every piece of yourself.

And in the end, it still hadn’t been enough.

-

You had been sitting beneath the old oak tree, headphones in, pretending to study. But the second Wanda sat down beside you, everything inside you tensed. Your eyes didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge her. Maybe if you ignored Wanda long enough, she would just disappear from your life.

"Are you going to avoid me forever?" Wanda’s voice was quiet, but there was a sharpness underneath it.

You sighed, closing your book. "I don’t see why it matters to you."

"Of course it matters." Wanda hesitated, then softer, "You still matter."

You clenched her jaw. "Don’t," you warned, turning to face Wanda for the first time in days. "Don’t say things you don’t mean."

Wanda exhaled, looking down at her hands. "That’s the problem, Y/N. I meant everything."

You scoffed, bitter. "Right. You meant it when you said you loved me. And then you meant it when you chose someone else."

Wanda flinched but didn’t look away. "You think that’s what happened?"

You stared at her, feeling something in your chest twist painfully. "Isn’t it?" A silence stretched between them—thick, heavy, suffocating.

And then, Wanda spoke.

"I never fell out of love with you." The words were barely above a whisper, but they hit you like a thunderclap.

Your breath caught, your heart pounding as you forced herself to stay still. "Then why?" you asked, your voice almost breaking. "Why did you leave me for him?"

Wanda swallowed hard, looking at you like she wanted to reach out, but didn’t. "Because I thought I had to."

She let out a shaky breath. "You never saw it, but my family was struggling. My father lost his job, my mother was barely holding things together, and I was scared. Vision—he had connections, opportunities. My mother thought if I was with him, I’d have a better future. A stable life. And I was stupid enough to believe that maybe, if I forced myself to feel something for him, I wouldn’t have to lose everything else." Wanda looked away, blinking quickly.

"But I never loved him, Y/N. Not the way I loved you."

You felt like the ground had been pulled out from beneath you. "You broke my heart," she whispered, voice unsteady. "And you didn’t even tell me why."

"I know," Wanda said, voice thick with regret. "And I’m sorry. I’ve been sorry every single day since I walked away."

You inhaled sharply, gripping the edges of your book as if it could keep you steady. You wanted to be angry, to hold on to the bitterness you had nurtured for so long. But now, the truth sat between them, raw and undeniable, unraveling every wall she had built.

And maybe that was the worst part of all.

Because despite everything, despite the pain, despite the years of silence and regret— you still loved her. And you didn’t know if you could stop.

"I need you to know something," Wanda said, voice steady despite the hesitation in her eyes.

"I didn’t come here expecting you to forgive me. I didn’t transfer here hoping we’d just go back to how we were. I know I hurt you, Y/N. And if you never want to see me again after this, I’ll understand. But I can’t leave things the way they are. Not again."

You swallowed, heart in your throat. "Wanda—"

"I love you," Wanda said, voice breaking just slightly. "I never stopped."

You felt something inside her shatter. The walls you had spent so long building crumbled in an instant, leaving nothing but the undeniable truth of what had always been. You could feel the weight of your own feelings pressing against your ribs, too big to contain.

And then, before you could stop herself, you reached for Wanda.

You felt Wanda freeze, breath hitching as your fingers brushed against her wrist—tentative, testing. And then, slowly, Wanda exhaled, tilting her head just slightly, waiting.

One second, there was space between you two, and the next, Wanda was pulling you closer, warm foreheads nearly touching. You could feel Wanda’s breath against your lips, warm and familiar, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Tell me to stop," Wanda whispered, voice trembling. "And I will."

You swallowed hard, hands tightening against Wanda’s jacket. "I don’t want you to." And that was all it took.

Wanda closed the distance, and the second your lips met. You felt the weight of every year, every unspoken word, every heartbreak melt into the kiss. It was desperate and soft and everything in between, full of the years you had lost and the love that had never really left.

When you finally pulled away, Wanda rested her forehead against yours, breathing hard. "I don’t deserve this," she murmured.

You sighed, closing your eyes. "Maybe not. But I think we deserve a second chance."

Wanda let out a soft, shaky laugh, pressing another gentle kiss to your soft lips. "Then let’s not waste it this time."

And just like that, the ghosts of what once was this puddle of hurt finally began to fade.

You weren’t sixteen anymore, lying under the stars and making promises you couldn’t keep.

But maybe this time, you would.

Maybe this time, forever wouldn’t be a lie.

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐓𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮—𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Stray Kids one shot

Read part one: 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 to understand the story...

Synopsis: Young and successful, Stray Kids are dominating the world with their ongoing tour. While the other members have moved on and found their own happiness, Chan remains trapped in the bittersweet memories of your love and the pain of your breakup.

A few years later when you attend their concert at the front row, fate decides to bring back the world it once shattered.

Content Warnings: Second chance. Tears, mention of alcohol, hurt, comfort, getting back together.

Note: This is the part two, the idea which won in this poll I posted. Sorry that it took so long to be uploaded ^^;

If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it. Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.

ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡ��ᴇʀᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

Word count:4.4k

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The wind brushed strands of hair on your face, the surrounding bustling with excitement, chatters and giggling as you stood in front of the enormous stadium, large enough to fit over eighty thousand people.

“Ah I'm gonna see Stray Kids for the first time!” An excited fan smiled and exclaimed, posing in front of the stadium doors with their SKZOO plushie and lightstick.

Others were making their way inside, dressed in gorgeous outfits, everyone equally excited to see the eight idols dominate the stage.

You watched as everyone made their way in, yet you stood in front of the stadium, your heart torn between deciding if you should go inside or just turn back and go to the airport.

It's been five years.

Five years since you last saw him. In front of you. His dimpled smile, Australian accent, killing eyes that you once fell for.

And you still are. Even after all this time.

“Are you lost?” A voice startled you. You turned around to see a security guard looking at you curiously, you've been standing without a movement for quite some time.

“Oh no, I—” you stuttered but then showed your phone to the guard.

He took a look at your screen, front row, and pointed you in the direction towards the VIP entrance. "You're right this way," the guard said with a polite nod, stepping aside to let you through.

Your feet felt heavy as you took slow, deliberate steps toward the entrance, the distant thumping of the bass from inside the stadium reverberating through your chest.

Your grip tightened around your phone, knuckles turning white as your emotions warred within you. Excitement, anxiety, and something deeper, an ache that never quite healed.

As you entered the stadium, the roar of the crowd swallowed you whole. The stage was massive, glowing in a spectrum of colors that danced across the eager faces of thousands of fans.

You took your seat in the front row, surrounded by a sea of lightsticks waving in unison, creating an ocean of pulsating red.

In the backstage, the eight RockStars were preparing to get on stage. Felix and I.N were fixing their earpieces and straightening their outfits, Lee Know and Changbin helping each other rehearse their lines but mostly just joking around.

Seungmin was fixing the chords of his guitar while Han did a quick facetime with his girlfriend back home and Hyunjin was being sneaky with his girlfriend somewhere backstage.

And there was Bang Chan. His eyes drifted across the bustling backstage area, his members were thriving, finding happiness in ways he once imagined for himself.

Chan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was happy for them—genuinely. Like the best leader he always was.

Amidst the excitement and anticipation of another sold-out show, he couldn’t ignore the emptiness that still lingered in his heart.

"Hyung," Felix’s voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. "You good?"

Chan blinked and nodded quickly, forcing a reassuring smile. "Yeah, yeah. Just thinking. Let's kill the stage.”

Felix studied him for a moment, clearly unconvinced, but decided not to press further and bumped fists with him. "You know we always do.”

“Boys! It's time!” Chan called out, the members gathered one by one, forming a circle and putting their hands in front.

“Step out! We are STRAY KIDS!”

They chanted in unison and prepared to get on stage. A montage of their journey played on the enormous screens, and cheers erupted as the lights dimmed.

The opening VCR ended, and the members took the stage one by one, their energy electrifying the atmosphere. You watched as Han and Hyunjin emerged first, followed by Felix, Seungmin, Lee Know, I.N, Changbin.

And then… Bang Chan.

He walked onto the stage with the same effortless charisma that once made your world revolve around him. Your heart pounded behind your chest, he looked almost the same as he did five years ago but now more stronger and powerful.

True to the name of their tour, the eight stars indeed dominated the stage with their energetic music, dance and performance, the crowd erupting in waves of cheers and screams.

The setlist carried on, the members pouring their souls into every performance, when Chan's gaze swept over the front row and landed on you, everything shifted.

Time froze in that instant, only the locked space between you and Chan floating in the air. Your heart clenched as his eyes widened, refusing to believe that it was indeed you in front of him tonight.

The girl he once had to let go because loving you had come at a cost too heavy to bear.

Chan’s breath hitched, and for a fleeting moment, he forgot where he was. The thundering bass, the flashing lights, the deafening cheers—all of it faded into the background. It was just you. Standing there.

Looking up at him with those same eyes that once held his entire world.

Distressing nights crashed into his mind.

The brown liquid stung and burned when it made its way down his throat. It was strong and bitter, like chewing and swallowing medicine.

Only three glasses of whiskey and that reached the limit. It didn't do anything to numb the pain and the fire burning in his chest.

Han and Changbin watched their friend struggling to cope after his break up with you. Han got up from the couch and silently moved the bottle and glass away from Chan whose head had fallen back on his desk chair.

“Chan Hyung..." Han’s voice had been soft yet firm, like he was talking to a fragile child. “This isn’t the way to deal with it.”

Chan’s head lolled to the side, his bloodshot eyes meeting Han’s concerned gaze. “Then what is?” he rasped, his voice cracking from shouting into the void earlier.

“What do I do, Han? Tell me, because every time I close my eyes, I see her walking out of that door. Every time I breathe, it feels like she’s still here, but she’s not. She’s gone.”

After you left, Chan was grieving the entire night, unable to work or do anything at all. He had promised to not contact you again but impulsivity led him to go to your apartment only to find out that you had moved out without a single trace. His friends tried to contact you through social media, but everything related to you had vanished overnight, as if nothing about you ever existed, crushing his soul in and out.

Changbin had sighed heavily, gently placing his hand on Chan's shoulder. “Hyung, you know we’re here for you, right? But killing yourself like this, drinking until you pass out, it’s not going to bring her back.”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Chan had snapped, his voice hoarse with frustration and heartbreak. For the first time YEARS Chan raised his voice that made Changbin and Han flinch.

“I let her go. I had to, for the group, for the fans, for everything that wasn’t her. And now...” His voice broke. “Now, I don’t even know who I am without her.”

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the distant hum of the studio equipment. Han had stepped closer, his expression pained but resolute.

“Then find yourself again, Hyung. Please. It’ll hurt, but you have to. For us, for the fans and for her. But we know that one day you'll reunite again…”

That night had been a turning point. He had thrown himself into his work with relentless fervour, using the music to drown out the noise of his heartbreak.

But no matter how many songs he wrote, how many hours he spent producing, he could never erase the phantom of you.

Now, five years later, that phantom was standing right in front of him, flesh and bone and as breathtaking as ever

His fingers curled tightly around the mic, knuckles white, but years of performing instinct kicked in. He forced himself to move, to sing, to dance—but it wasn’t the same anymore.

Every step felt heavier, every lyric hit closer to home, and every glance at you chipped away at the careful walls he’d built around his heart.

“You okay?” Lee Know mouthed between the choreography, nudging him subtly.

Chan could only nod, blinking hard to refocus. His body was working on its own, but his heart and mind wandered elsewhere.

While maintaining professionalism and his usual banter on stage along with the members, interacting with fans, every now and then he took a glance at you, who continued to watch him with nothing but pride filled in your eyes at how far he has come.

One part of your heart was happy that he still remembered you even if the both of you can never be together again, and another part of it ached at the past feelings and the shattering heartbreak.

Your grip tightened around the lightstick in your hand. Chan saw the way your chest rose and fell unevenly, saw the way your lips pressed together as if holding back tears.

With their final act, for a long time Chan's gaze only glued to your row, wrapping up their show for the night.

One by one Stray Kids bid their goodbyes and began disappearing into the darkness. The crowd erupted into cheers, some were emotional, others wore a huge smile on their faces for having the best night of their lives.

While you remained not knowing how to feel.

Not knowing if you should feel happy for finally having the courage to attend a concert and see Chan after so many years or hold your heart that's in pieces and go back home knowing that's the final you're giving yourself to ever see him again.

With a low exhale, you turned away to the exit when the same security guard who helped you inside stopped in front of you.

“Can I help you?” You asked, feeling slightly intimidated by his tall figure.

“Wear this,” he handed you a black mask, “and come with me.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you stared at the black mask in your hand. “I—I'm sorry, but what is this for?” you asked, your voice cautious.

The guard remained impassive, his gaze steady but not unkind. “You’ll know soon enough. Just put it on and follow me.”

Hesitation gripped you. You swallowed hard, your heart was still racing from the concert, from Chan’s lingering gaze that felt like it was reaching deep into your soul.

Should you run away? But something in the guard’s gaze said that it could be something you might not expect, so reluctantly, you slipped the mask over your face, tugging it securely behind your ears before nodding at the guard.

Without another word, he turned and led you through a side passage that veered away from the exiting crowd.

The further you walked, the louder your heartbeat became, echoing in your ears like the remnants of a song you weren’t ready to let go of.

The corridor was dimly lit, the hum of staff members and distant voices filling the space. It smelled of sweat, stage fog, and something unmistakably nostalgic.

You were led past a heavy curtain, and suddenly, the guard stopped. “Wait here,” he said firmly before disappearing behind a door, leaving you standing in what looked like the backstage area.

You blinked, taking in the chaotic but empty space around you—rows of clothing racks, half-empty water bottles scattered across tables, a faint hum of music still reverberating through the walls.

As you turned around, you caught the sight of two guys, standing frozen in place like they had just seen a ghost. You recognised them instantly (well obviously), memories flooding back when you were like your own little friend group.

Han’s mouth fell unhinged while Hyunjin's eyes threatened to pop out of his sockets.

Your heart raced like a freight train, swallowing hard you smiled. “Uh…hi?”

“No way.” Han was the first to recover, shaking his head with a bewildered chuckle. “Are we dreaming? Is she actually here?” He nudged Hyunjin hard enough to make him stumble. “Dude, say something.”

Hyunjin’s lips parted, his gaze scanning you like he was trying to piece together an impossible puzzle.

Slowly the other members appeared one after another, gathering before you, like a long-lost family reunion frozen in time. Each of them stood there, wide-eyed, their expressions shifting from disbelief to cautious joy.

Your chest tightened, emotions welling up at the sight of them all together again. Memories hit you like waves—late-night hangouts, inside jokes, and the way they always made you feel like you belonged.

“I…” you started, your voice faltering under their weighty stares. “I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

Han’s smile faded slightly, his eyes softening. “Yeah, no kidding,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “You just—poof. Gone.”

Hyunjin finally found his voice, quieter than before. “We looked for you, you know? But you disappeared without a trace.”

You swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at you. “I had to. I... I couldn't stay.”

Before anyone could respond, a familiar face cut through the air, appearing behind Changbin. The moment you saw him, your heart clenched so tightly it hurt. Air was knocked out of your lungs.

Chan stepped into view, his breath hitching with a soft smile the second his eyes locked onto yours.

“Hey my love,” he breathed, barely above a whisper, yet it echoed through the silence like a deafening confession.

You bit your lip as your chin wobbled, tears gushing up your eyes, so close to falling. You stood rooted to the spot, your pulse pounding in your ears. His dark eyes swept over you, lingering on every familiar detail as if he was afraid that you’d disappear again if he blinked.

Chan walked towards you, the sound of his boots echoing off the walls, each step feeling like a lifetime as he closed the distance between you.

You touched your elbow, hoping it would hold you from falling on the floor, your breathing increased with every passing second.

“Let's give them a moment…” you faintly heard Felix tell the others, you could see them disappearing but nothing could be registered other than Chan who stood in front of you.

Present and achingly real.

Tears blurred your vision, the moment you blinked they rolled down your cheeks. Chan hesitated for a fraction of a second, his hand twitching as if unsure whether to touch you or not.

But then, without another thought, he cupped your cheek so gently, his thumb brushing away the tears that spilled.

Words were stuck in your throat. Time was frozen. A longing warmth engulfed you. You leaned into his touch instinctively, your hands trembling as they reached up to hold his wrist.

A shaky breath left your lips as you held onto him, trying to soak in the warmth you had been deprived of for so long. Chan smiled softly and pulled you into his arms holding you tightly against his chest, as if afraid you might slip away again.

Your eyes widened, then closed, your hands gripping his back, hugging him back equally tightly.

Held back sobs broke free, you choked as you let your tears fall and soak his top, holding onto Chan unwilling to let him go.

Chan held the back of your head, not speaking a word but his throat was tight, holding back his emotions biting the lower lip, his eyes shut but lashes brimming with tears.

His arms tightened around you, his grip was desperate, his heart hammering against your ear, a silent confession of everything he never got to say.

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispered, his voice raw and heavy with years of unsaid words. “I’m so…so sorry.”

You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, pressing your face deeper into his chest. “Don’t,” you managed to croak out between your sobs.

Your body shook with quiet sobs against him, your fists clutching the fabric of his top as if it could hold together the pieces of your shattered heart.

"I missed you," you choked out, the confession slipping through your tears.

"I never wanted to let you go," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. "I didn't have a choice... they—"

"I know," you whispered, cutting him off, your voice raw with pain.

You remembered that devastating evening when you walked out of his apartment, closing the door behind you and heard a loud crash soon after. With every ounce left in your body you walked away, refusing to look back.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes, those same dark, expressive eyes you fell in love with, were bloodshot and glassy with unshed tears. You could see everything in them. The pain. The regret. The love that never faded.

“I left that day,” you continued, your voice trembling, “telling you my heart belonged to you… yours to love and yours to break.” Your lips wobbled, fresh tears slipping down. “And it still does, Chan. Even after all this time.”

Chan’s face contorted in anguish, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks again, trying to wipe away years of pain. "I never wanted to break you," he whispered. “I'm so sorry for hurting you my love, I'm so fucking sorry…”

You swallowed hard, your eyes searching his. "Did you ever move on?"

Chan shook his head instantly, his grip on you tightening. “No,” he whispered, his forehead pressing against yours. “I tried, but...how could I? You were everywhere. In my music, in my dreams, in every damn thing I did.”

He laughed bitterly, a tear slipping down his cheek. "I wrote songs about you... but I couldn't say your name. I couldn't even let them know who they were really about."

You sniffled, a small, broken smile tugging at your lips, your fingers absentmindedly playing with his hair. Chan let out a choked laugh, pulling you even closer.

Silence stretched between you, the weight of the years apart pressing down, but in this moment, none of it mattered. It was just you and him, tangled in a mess of heartbreak and longing.

Your hand cupped his face, his skin was hot under your palm, he leaned in, soaking your touch, as if this was the first time in five years he could finally let his feelings out.

Your heart pounded against your chest, but you whispered, "I don't know what happens now.”

Chan opened his eyes, brushing a strand of hair being your ear, a desperate kind of hope in his gaze.

"We try," he said softly. "If you'll let me...we try again. I don't care what it takes, sweetheart. I lost you once, and I can't do it again.”

The scars never healed and wounds were still fresh. Could you do it again? Could you believe in him? Let yourself fall back into the world you once built together, knowing how easily it could shatter all over again?

His gaze was searching yours, silently pleading for an answer. But he could see it, the fear etched across your face, the hesitation flickering in your eyes.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice laced with understanding. “I know you’re afraid. I am too.” He leaned in closer, his forehead brushing against yours. “But I swear, I won’t let you get hurt again. I won't let you go.”

Your lips parted, a shuddering breath escaping, but before you could say anything, Chan’s mouth crashed with yours.

You froze, eyes widened, but you melted into him in a heartbeat, letting his tongue slip past your lips and kiss you fiercely.

Love, hurt, fear, anger, desperation.

His hand held your neck as your fingers snaked through his hair, teeth against teeth, breaths colliding, there was no room to breathe.

You gasped against his mouth, the tears slipping between your lips, but neither of you pulled away. The kiss deepened, urgent and unrelenting, you both were trying to make up for all the lost time, for all the moments you could have had but were cruelly stolen from you.

Finally, when air became an undeniable necessity, Chan pulled back, his breath ragged and hot against you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “For everything. For letting them take you away from me. I should have fought harder. I should have—”

You silenced him with a soft brush of your fingers against his lips, shaking your head as fresh tears welled up. “We both got hurt, Chan,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“But I always hoped that one day I could find my way back to you.”

You played a trembling smile that made Chan’s breath catch, his dark eyes glistening with a mix of relief and longing.

The weight of what felt like an eternity of lost years pressed heavily between you both. You remembered the nights you spent staring at the empty space beside you, wondering if he missed you as much as you missed him.

And now, standing in front of him, you saw it, the same ache, the same yearning in his eyes. He missed you just as much, refusing to move on and playing a smile on his face that was convincing enough to make everyone think he was fine.

But only the ones who knew, knew that he wasn't.

Chan's fingers intertwined with yours, his forehead pressing on yours as he exhaled a long breath, living in the moment.

“Can we try again?” His breath ghosted over your skin, his voice so raw and filled with a quiet desperation that it made your chest tighten painfully.

Your lips parted, your pulse hammering in your ears. “What if we end up breaking all over again?” The vulnerability in your voice made his brows furrow, his eyes searching yours with a tenderness that almost unraveled you.

His thumb traced soothing circles over your knuckles. “Then we’ll piece ourselves back together,” he said softly, his voice steady yet laced with the same fear you held.

You swallowed hard, staring into his eyes—the eyes you had once memorized, the eyes that haunted your dreams every night. “I’m still scared,” you admitted, voice shaking.

Chan let out a breathy chuckle, though there was no humor in it. “I’m scared too, sweetheart,” he whispered.

“But I’d rather be scared with you than be without you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and he was quick to catch it with his thumb, his touch lingering against your skin. “I’ve missed you,” he breathed, his voice cracking.

“I missed you too, Channie. Every single day.”

Chan bit his lip smiling yet his eyes held a wave of fresh tears, his dimple deepening, that same dimple that made your heart flutter in the best way possible.

“Will you stay with me?” He asked for the third time, hope still lingering across his features, refusing to give up.

He fought himself, blamed himself, hated himself for letting you slip away from him that easily.

But now he was determined to win you back no matter the cost. Because sometimes the heart remembers what the mind tries to forget. And love has a way of finding its way back, even through the wreckage.

A shiver ran down your spine, voices in your mind screaming for you to not fall for false hope even though your heart begged you to not let him go.

Your fingers reached up, tracing the curve of his cheek, a ghost of a smile tugging at your lips despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

Chan watched you curiously and cautiously, you closed your eyes, his presence grounding you, anchoring you to a reality that felt both terrifying and beautiful.

And in that moment, despite the fears clawing at your soul, you nodded—slowly, hesitantly—but it was enough.

His hug engulfed you again, letting out a shaky sob but traced with a low laugh, relief washing over him, finally giving the chance to forgive himself.

“Thank you,” he breathed, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

And you stood there, wrapped in his embrace, a real, genuine smile playing on your lips for the first time, letting yourself get lost in the world you once walked out from.

Bang!

The loud sound of the popper tube made both your hearts threaten to jump out of your throats, pieces of shiny gold and silver confetti swirling around you in a cascade of shimmering light.

You gasped, instinctively gripping onto Chan’s top as laughter erupted from behind you. The guys stood there, grinning like a bunch of mischievous kids, their faces full of warmth and excitement.

Felix, holding the empty confetti popper, yelled “Surprise!” breaking the emotional tension with his infectious, sunshine energy.

You blinked, feeling the weight of the moment give way to laughter as Hyunjin threw his arms in the air. “Finally! I was starting to think you two would just stare at each other forever.”

Chan let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head, his arm securely wrapped around your waist and the other hand rubbing the back of his neck. He glanced down at you, his eyes warm and radiant.

A small giggle escaped your lips as you wiped the tears away, feeling the love, the warmth of the people who once felt like family. Changbin walked up, his usual tough exterior melting as he patted Chan on the shoulder.

“Don’t mess it up this time.”

“I won’t,” Chan said firmly and his gaze locked with yours. “Not again.”

Felix bounced over, wrapping both you and Chan in a sudden hug, his voice soft but full of emotion. “You have no idea how much we’ve missed you,” he murmured. “It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“I missed you all too,” you whispered, your heart swelling.

Chan’s fingers tightened around your waist, grounding you in the moment. He leaned in, his voice low and meant only for you. “So… are you staying?”

You gazed up at him, the memories of your love flashing behind your eyes. The late-night conversations, the way he used to hold you when the world felt too heavy, the way you were destined to find your way back to each other, no matter what.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded, a soft smile breaking across your lips. “Yeah, Channie. I’m staying.”

A loud cheer erupted from the guys, Felix jumping up and down with I.N, Han dramatically fake-crying into Hyunjin’s shoulder, Lee Know nodding, draping his arm around Changbin's shoulder, showing a thumbs up at Chan, while Seungmin simply smirked, satisfied.

Chan’s eyes shone with something you hadn’t seen in a long time, pure, unfiltered happiness. He cupped your face gently, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“We’re gonna make it work this time. I promise.”

You smiled looking up at Chan and leaned your head against his body, his lips brushing against your hair.

Just because something didn't work out the first time, doesn't mean it can't be even better the second time around.

And sometimes, the love that got away is the same love that comes back to stay.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

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Thank you for reading!

xx,

Ivyy

[beneathashadytree]

SECOND CHANCE - TEXTING THE LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MEN

Warnings : mentions of a breakup, anxious attachment, mental health, insecurities, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : mild angst to fluff 💗

Additional notes : I like healthy second-chance romances (where there’s no toxicity or 3rd party intervening), so this was a fun request to make. Hope you guys like this!!

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[jburrgf]

About you ||| — The Love Trope Series.

“Do you think I have forgotten about you?”

• pairing: ¡lsu!joe burrow x ¡ex situashionship!reader

° summary: second change trope, college relationships, slow burn love, right person wrong time.

o description: you and joe had a thing months before, but the things ended in a bad way. now, you see yourself stuck in something that requires you to be close to him every single day.

• playlist: About You - The 1975, Love Me Like You Do - Ellie Golding, Like Real People Do - Hoozier, I Bet You Think About Me - Taylor Swift, Called You Again - Lizzy McAlpine, Tolerate It, ImGonnaGetYouBack, Clean - Taylor Swift

PART THREE: I BET YOU THINK ABOUT ME

The fluorescent lights in the classroom buzzed faintly as I slipped into my seat at the back of the room, pulling my hoodie tighter around me, hoping to disappear into the fabric. Mondays were bad enough, but after the party on Saturday, the mere thought of facing the day made me want to crawl back under the covers and stay there.

Especially now, with the nagging suspicion that my life was about to take another unpredictable turn.

The group of students gathered for Media Strategies in Sports was small, a core requirement for my degree, and one of the few that worked directly with LSU’s athletic department. Normally, I loved it—brainstorming campaigns, creating social media content, and pitching ideas to actual professionals. But today, the room felt stifling, like the walls were closing in.

I sank lower into my seat, Maddie, seated beside me, shot me a knowing look.

“Morning, sunshine,” Maddie chirped, sliding into the chair beside me with her usual energy that somehow thrived even at 8 a.m.

I grunted in response, burying my face in the collar of my hoodie.

“Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad,” she teased, nudging my arm. “You left before anything interesting happened.”

I shot her a glare, and she held up her hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll stop. “You’re being dramatic,” she whispered, nudging me with her elbow.

“I’m being cautious,” I muttered, keeping my voice low.

Professor Reynolds entered the room, a stack of papers tucked under his arm. He was a tall, wiry man with a gruff demeanor, but he loved his job. This class was his pride and joy, a hybrid course designed to give students real-world experience working with the university’s rising athletes

The professor, Dr. Reynolds, stood at the front of the room, a stack of papers in his hands and an overly chipper demeanor that felt out of place this early in the week. “Alright, class,” he began, his voice cutting through the low hum of chatter. “As you all know, this semester we’re diving into a hands-on project with the athletic department. Each of you will be paired with an up-and-coming athlete to develop a personalized media strategy. This is a big opportunity—LSU takes its athletics seriously, and these athletes are the faces of the future.”

I already hated this.

“Pairs will be assigned at random,” Reynolds continued, adjusting his glasses. “These are some of LSU’s rising stars, and this is your chance to prove you can handle the pressure.”

Dr. Reynolds began reading off the pairings, his voice steady and matter-of-fact.

“Anna, you’ll be working with Derek Stingley Jr. Jamie, you’ve got Clyde Edwards-Helaire…”

The names blurred together as I stared at my notebook, pretending to take notes. Maybe, just maybe, I’d luck out and get someone I could handle—a name I barely recognized, someone who wouldn’t make me feel like the walls were closing in.

“Justin Jefferson,” Dr. Collins called, glancing up. “Maddie Carter.”

Maddie lit up like a Christmas tree, her grin practically splitting her face. She turned to me, barely able to contain her excitement. “Oh my God, Y/N. Justin Jefferson. Can you believe it?”

“Lucky you,” I said flatly, my heart sinking further.

She didn’t notice, too busy already envisioning her project.

“Y/N L/N,” Professor Hart continued, scanning his list. “You’ll be working with Joe Burrow.”

I didn’t respond, hoping for some kind of cosmic intervention. Reynolds’s gaze found me anyway, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he looked at me.

“Joe Burrow.”

My blood ran cold.

Maddie audibly gasped beside me, clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle her reaction. I couldn’t even look at her. Instead, I ducked lower into my hoodie, practically melting into my chair.

My heart plummeted.

Maddie turned to me, her eyes wide. “Oh no.”

The words hit me like a freight train, and my body instinctively tensed. My heart sank, my pulse quickening as the room seemed to close in around me.

I slid further into my hoodie, wishing the fabric could swallow me whole.

“Of all the people,” I muttered, my voice muffled.

I didn’t respond, instead pulling my hoodie up over my head and practically disappearing into the fabric. My face burned as the rest of the class murmured, a few curious glances thrown my way.

Maddie leaned closer, her voice low. “Y/N, this is fine. It’s fine. You can handle this.”

I peeked out from the safety of my hoodie, glaring at her. “This is not fine.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re overreacting. It’s just Joe.”

“Exactly,” I hissed. “It’s Joe.”

Before she could respond, Dr. Reynolds clapped his hands together, pulling the class’s attention back to him. “Remember, this project is about collaboration. You’ll be working closely with your athlete all semester, so make sure to establish good communication from the start. Now, if there are no questions, class is dismissed.”

I stayed rooted in my seat as everyone began gathering their things, my mind racing. There was no way I could do this.

Maddie stood and slung her bag over her shoulder, leaning down to whisper, “Go talk to him. Maybe he’ll switch you with someone.”

“That’s the plan,” I muttered, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

I shot her a point and Maddie shrugged. I waited until the room had cleared out, then made my way to the front where Dr. Reynolds was organizing his notes.

“Professor?” I said hesitantly.

He looked up, offering a kind smile. “Yes, Y/N?”

I shifted awkwardly, clutching my notebook to my chest. “About the project… I was wondering if there was any chance I could switch partners.”

His brow furrowed, and he set his papers down. “Switch partners? Is there a specific reason why?”

I hesitated, my mind scrambling for a professional-sounding excuse. “I just think… maybe someone else would be a better fit. Joe and I… we don’t really have a lot in common, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to… um, connect with him the way someone else might.”

Dr. Reynolds studied me for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “Y/N, part of this project is about stepping outside your comfort zone. Learning to work with different personalities is a crucial skill in this field. Joe Burrow is one of the most promising athletes at LSU right now, and I believe you’re more than capable of handling this assignment.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but he held up a hand. “I understand this might feel challenging, but I’m confident it’ll be a valuable experience for you. Give it a shot, and if there are any real issues, we can revisit this conversation later in the semester.”

“Right,” I said weakly. “Of course.”

“Besides,” he added with a small smile, “working with someone like Joe is an incredible opportunity. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

I forced a tight smile, nodding as I backed toward the door. “Thanks, Dr. Reynolds. I’ll, uh, do my best.”

As I turned to leave, Maddie was waiting just outside the door, her arms crossed and a knowing smirk on her face.

“Well?” she asked.

“No luck,” I grumbled, pulling my hoodie back up.

She shrugged, looping her arm through mine as we walked down the hallway. “See? The universe wants you two to work this out.”

I groaned, leaning my head against her shoulder. “You’re not helping.”

She laughed, giviI glared at her. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” she replied, linking her arm through mine as we started walking. “Come on, Y/N. You’ll survive. He’s just a guy. A very cute guy who just so happens to be your ex, but still—just a guy.”

But as we walked across campus, her words felt far from reassuring. Because deep down, I knew this wasn’t just about the project—or about Joe. It was about the way he still made me feel, no matter how hard I tried to forget.

“You’ll thank me later.”

I groaned, pressing my hands to my face. “Why do I feel like this is going to be a disaster?”

“Because you’re overthinking it,” she said, looping her arm through mine. “Come on. Let’s grab lunch. You’re gonna crush this project, and if he tries to make it weird, I’ll personally set Justin Jefferson on him.”

Despite myself, I laughed. Maddie always had a way of making things feel just a little bit lighter.

But as we walked out of the building, I couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in my chest. Joe Burrow wasn’t just any project partner. And no matter how much Maddie tried to convince me otherwise, I knew this was going to be anything but simple.

“When are you guys going to meet?” Maddie asked me, walking by my side down the streets of the campus. We were doing our way to Malone’s.

“Probably still this week. Joe has the hardest schedule, but I know he has some free days this week. I kinda Remember.”

Maddie gave me a quick look, but she didn’t say a word. And it was ok, cause I know her enough to know what 's going on in her mind. And it was the same way with her: she knew what was going on my mind right now.

"You are not going to do that," she told me, as if her demand would change something I had already decided in my mind.

I didn’t answer, my mind already spinning with ideas to get out of this. There had to be a way to switch partners. Maybe Jamar could help me—he was Joe’s best friend, and I’d worked with him before — kinda met him when I was with Joe. He was always good at reading Burrow, especially. Maybe, just maybe, he’d pull some strings for me, cause I know that half of the girls from my class would kill to be paired with Joseph Lee Burrow.

I pulled out my phone, dialing Jamar’s number quickly. The phone rang once, twice...

“Yo, Y/N, what’s up?” Jamar’s voice came through the speaker, relaxed but friendly.

“Hey, Jamar,” I said, trying to sound casual but feeling the anxiety creep in. “Look, I need a huge favor. You know that media project for class, right?”

“Yeah, I’m in that class too. You got paired up with someone tough?” He asked me. “I wasn’t in the class today, got early practice this morning.”

“Well,” I hesitated, glancing over at Maddie who was watching me curiously, “I got paired with Joe.”

There was a brief silence on the other end, and then Jamar laughed. “Oh, man. That’s gonna be fun.”

I didn’t share his enthusiasm. “I don’t want to work with him, Jamar. It’s... it’s complicated, you know? Any chance you can make a switch for me? Just... I don’t know, talk to the professor or someone? Talk to the girl that got you!”

Maddie, still walking beside me, leaned in with a mischievous grin. “You’re not seriously asking Jamar to pull strings, are you?”

I shot her a glare, but she just laughed, clearly knowing what I was about to do.

On the phone, Jamar chuckled again. “I get it, I get it. But nah, I can’t really do that. You two gotta work it out. Besides, Joe’s a good dude. You’ll be fine.”

I felt my shoulders slump. “You’re not helping here, Jamar.”

“Hey, I’m just saying, you’ve got this,” he replied, his tone warm but firm. “But you’ll need to face it at some point, right? Might as well be now.”

I groaned, my frustration mounting. “You’re all against me, huh?”

“Not against you, just keeping it real,” Jamar said, laughing lightly. “But look, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Besides, you’ll have some good stories to tell after, right?”

I wasn’t ready to accept that yet, but before I could say anything else, Maddie swiped the phone from my hand, holding it to her ear before I could protest.

“Chase! It’s Maddie. We’re going to Malone’s now, you in?” she said, all casual and confident.

“Maddie!” I protested, grabbing at her, but she pulled the phone further from me.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. You need to face Joe,” Maddie continued to Jamar, ignoring my complaints. “We’re going to make sure you do, and I’ll be there to back you up. You’ll be fine.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but Maddie just gave me that look—the one that told me she wasn’t about to let me off the hook.

Jamar’s voice came through the phone again. “Malone’s, huh? Yeah, sure, I’ll swing by. Should be a good time.”

Maddie grinned at me. “See? Jamar’s in. Now you just have to deal with the whole Joe thing, and we’ll all go get a drink. It’ll be a good distraction. You’re welcome.”

I sighed, defeated, knowing she was right. There was no avoiding Joe, and it seemed like I wasn’t going to get out of this project. “Fine,” I muttered, sinking into the nearest bench. “But you’re buying me a drink tonight, Maddie. I’m gonna need it.”

Maddie smiled, her arm linking through mine. “Deal. But remember, you’re facing your ex like an adult. No running away this time.”

I rolled my eyes, but there was no escaping it now. "You’re relentless, you know that?"

She just winked. "That’s why you love me."

[…]

The atmosphere at Malone’s was a mix of low chatter, clinking glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. It was the kind of place where everyone on campus went to blow off steam, whether it was for a burger or a beer. Maddie, Jamar, and I had been sitting at one of the wooden booths for over an hour, nursing drinks and nibbling on fries while we talked about the media class project.

Jamar had been surprisingly helpful, giving me tips on how to navigate the project with Joe—though he seemed to enjoy teasing me about it at every opportunity. Maddie, as always, was in her element, sipping on her drink and chiming in with her unsolicited (but not entirely unwelcome) advice.

“I’m just saying,” Jamar said, leaning back in his chair. “Joe’s not that bad to work with. Once you get past his, you know... personality.”

I shot him a look. “Oh, you mean his stubbornness? His perfectionism? His tendency to completely ignore other people’s input?”

Jamar grinned. “Exactly.”

Before I could retort, the door swung open, and in walked Justin Jefferson. His easy confidence turned a few heads as he made his way toward our table, spotting us immediately.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is," Jamar greeted, sliding over to make room for him. "What’s up, Justin?"

Justin slid into the seat directly across from Maddie, his eyes flicking to her before settling on the rest of us.“Not much. Just got out of a meeting with Coach. You know how it is." Justin said, His eyes flicked to her drink. “You already started without me?”

Maddie smirked, raising her glass. “You’re late. That’s on you.”

Justin chuckled, settling in as if he’d been there the whole time.

Maddie perked up immediately, smiling at Justin as if the rest of us had disappeared. "Hey, did you see the assignment? I got paired with you for the project."

Justin leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "Yeah, I saw that. Guess we’ll be spending a lot of time together, huh?" His tone was casual, but the way he looked at Maddie made it clear he wasn’t just talking about work.

I couldn’t help but smile a little at their interaction. It was nice to see Maddie’s confidence in action, even if I wanted to shrink into my hoodie at the mere thought of working with Joe.

Justin turned his attention to me after a moment, his eyebrows raising. "So, who’d you get stuck with, Y/N?"

I hesitated, glancing at Maddie and Jamar for support. Maddie was quick to jump in. "She got Joe," she said with a grin, as if this were the most entertaining development of her week.

Justin’s eyes widened slightly, his smile turning into something more curious. "Wait, Joe Joe? As in, Joe Burrow? Your Joe Burrow? Didn’t you two have a thing?”

“He’s not my Joe,” I said quickly, my face heating up.

Jamar chuckled, and Maddie smirked into her drink, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

“It was a long time ago,” I muttered, wishing the ground would swallow me whole.

Justin leaned back in his chair, clearly amused. “Man, this just keeps getting better.”

“Look,” Jamar said, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m just saying, if you don’t want to work with Joe, you better have a solid plan. Dude’s serious about this stuff when it comes to football, and he’s not gonna let you off easy.”

I groaned, stirring my drink with the straw. “It’s not about him being serious. It’s about—”

“History,” Maddie interrupted with a sly smirk. “We all know the elephant in the room.”

I shot her a glare, but Jamar chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. History aside, you’ll be fine. Just keep it professional. Joe’s not the type to hold grudges.”

Before I could come up with a response, Jamar’s phone buzzed on the table. He picked it up, his face lighting up when he saw the name on the screen. “Speak of the devil,” he said with a smirk. “It’s Joe,” Jamar announced, holding up the screen for us to see.

“Put it on speaker,” Justin said immediately, leaning forward with interest.

“No, don’t—” I started, but it was too late. Jamar had already hit the speaker button and placed the phone in the middle of the table.

“Yo, Joe, what’s up?” Jamar said.

“Hey, man,” Joe’s voice came through the phone, low and steady. “I just got out of practice. What’s up with this project? Do you know who I’m paired with yet?”

Maddie and Justin exchanged glances, their eyes twinkling with amusement. I sank deeper into my seat, pulling my hoodie over my head in a futile attempt to hide.

“Not yet, huh?” Jamar replied, grinning at me. “Man, you’re gonna love this one.”

Joe groaned on the other end of the line. “I swear, if it’s someone who doesn’t take this seriously, I’m gonna lose it.”

“Don’t worry,” Jamar said, his voice full of mock reassurance. “Your partner’s... super dedicated. Really invested.”

Maddie coughed, barely stifling her laughter. Justin was no better, leaning forward with his hand over his mouth to muffle his amusement.

Joe sighed. “Great. Anyway, where are you? I’m starving.”

“We’re at Malone’s,” Jamar said casually. “You should swing by.”

There was a pause before Joe replied. “Alright, be there in ten.”

When the call ended, the table fell into a quiet buzz of excitement. Justin leaned forward, his gaze flicking between Maddie and me. “This just got a whole lot more interesting.”

I shot him a look, then turned to Maddie. “You’re not helping.”

Maddie shrugged, clearly unbothered. “I told you, you need to face him. Now’s your chance.”

I glared at Jamar. “Why did you invite him?”

“Because,” he said, leaning forward with a grin, “I live for the drama.”

Maddie nudged me. “Relax, Y/N. It’s just Joe. You’ll be fine.”

I didn’t respond, my mind racing as I tried to mentally prepare myself for what was about to happen.

A few minutes later, the door swung open again, and there he was. He looked like he’d just come from practice, a hoodie slung over his shoulders, hair slightly disheveled, but his sharp gaze swept over the room like he was always in control.

I froze in my seat, trying to shrink into the background as his eyes roamed over the tables.

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Justin muttered under his breath, leaning forward with a smirk.

Jamar casually waved him over. “Yo, Joe, over here!”

Joe’s head turned toward the sound of Jamar’s voice, and then his eyes landed on me. He stopped mid-step.

He froze when he saw me.

His gaze locked with mine, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The noise, the people, the world—it all disappeared as we stared at each other.

Joe walked over slowly, his expression carefully neutral, but I could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes as he took the empty seat directly across from me.

“Sup,” Joe greeted. The space felt smaller now, the table between us an insignificant barrier.

“Hey, man,” Jamar said with a grin, clearly enjoying the tension that had settled over the table.

Joe’s gaze flicked briefly to Maddie, then Justin, before landing back on me. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, his voice neutral, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of something—surprise, maybe.

Justin, ever the instigator, wasted no time. “So, Joe, you know who your partner is for the big marketing project yet?”

Joe frowned slightly, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. “Not yet. They haven’t told me.”

“Oh, really?” Jamar said, feigning surprise. “Man, that’s weird. I thought for sure you’d know by now.”

Maddie stifled a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. I shot her a glare, but she just winked at me.

Joe glanced at Jamar, then at Justin, and finally back at me. His expression shifted subtly, realization dawning as he pieced it together. His eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, the rest of the table seemed to fade away.

“You’re kidding,” he said, his voice low and edged with disbelief.

I looked down at the table, suddenly fascinated by the condensation on my glass. “Nope,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Not kidding.”

Joe let out a quiet, humorless laugh, leaning back in his chair. “Of course.”

Justin chuckled, clearly enjoying the drama. “This just got a whole lot more interesting.”

Joe ignored him, his focus entirely on me. “So, it’s you,” he said, his tone unreadable.

“It’s me,” I replied, finally meeting his gaze.

The air between us felt heavy, the unspoken history lingering like a storm cloud. Maddie broke the tension with a cheerful, overly chipper tone.

“See? This will be great! You two already know each other. It’s a head start!”

Joe shot her a look, and she just shrugged innocently.

Jamar leaned forward, grinning. “Come on, Joe. Don’t look so worried. Y/N’s great to work with. She’ll probably carry you through the whole project.”

Joe didn’t respond immediately, his eyes never leaving mine. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, quieter. “Yeah. We’ll see.”

Maddie cleared her throat loudly, cutting through the tension. “Alright, this is officially too much brooding for one table. Jamar, let’s order another round, yeah?”

Joe leaned forward slightly, his attention still on me, even as Jamar and Maddie launched into a debate about appetizers. “We should figure out a schedule for the project,” he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

“Yeah,” I replied, my throat dry.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he added, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Fine.”

Maddie shot him a look, then turned to Joe. “Look, it’s just a project. You’ll survive.”

Joe didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still on me. There was something in his expression I couldn’t quite place—like he was trying to figure out how to handle the situation without making it worse.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his tone resigned. “I guess we don’t have a choice.”

“Exactly,” Maddie said, her voice overly cheerful. “It’s gonna be fine. Right, Y/N?”

I forced a tight smile. “Sure. Fine.”

Joe’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he reached for the menu in front of him, clearly ready to change the subject. But the tension lingered, thick and unspoken, as we all sat there pretending this wasn’t as uncomfortable as it actually was.

Jamar, of course, seemed determined to make things worse. “Hey, Joe,” he said, grinning. “Remember that time we talked about working with people you had... history with? Funny how life works, huh?”

Joe shot him a glare, and I kicked Jamar under the table, but he just laughed, unfazed.

Joe nodded once, then glanced at Jamar. “You’re paying for my drink, by the way.”

Maddie leaned over to whisper, “You’re doing great, sweetie,” and I resisted the urge to groan.

Jamar laughed, but the awkwardness didn’t fade. I knew this project was going to be a challenge, but sitting across from Joe now, with all the unresolved tension hanging in the air, I realized just how difficult it was going to be.

I couldn’t take it anymore. The awkwardness, the stares, the weight of his presence—it was all too much. Pushing my chair back, I stood abruptly.

“I need some air,” I said, not waiting for a response as I made my way toward the door.

Behind me, I could hear Maddie murmuring something to Joe, probably trying to smooth things over. But I didn’t look back. I couldn’t.

The cool evening air hit my face as I stepped outside, my breath shaky as I tried to collect myself. Working with Joe was going to be harder than I thought.

I leaned against the brick wall outside Malone’s, the faint buzz of conversation and clinking glasses filtering through the door behind me. The cool air helped calm the heat rising in my chest, but it didn’t quiet my thoughts.

What were the odds of being paired with Joe? It felt like the universe was playing some cruel joke on me, forcing me to confront something I wasn’t ready to face.

The reality of it settled in my chest like a stone, making it hard to breathe. I shouldn’t have reacted like that—I knew it. But seeing him, sitting across from me, brought back everything I’d tried so hard to bury.

The door behind me creaked open, and I turned my head slightly, expecting Maddie.

Instead, Jamar stepped out, his usual easy grin replaced by something softer, almost concerned.

“Hey,” he said, leaning against the wall beside me.

Hey,” he said, leaning against the wall beside me.

I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to look unaffected. “Hey.”

For a moment, neither of us said anything. The quiet between us was heavy, filled with everything I wasn’t ready to admit.

“You okay?” Jamar finally asked, his voice low.

I let out a shaky breath, my eyes fixed on the parking lot in front of us. “I’m fine.”

“Come on, Y/N,” he said, tilting his head to catch my gaze. “I’m not Maddie—I know when someone’s not fine.”

I hesitated, the words caught in my throat. Jamar wasn’t the kind of guy who pried, but he also didn’t let people off the hook easily.

“It’s just… a lot,” I admitted quietly, my fingers gripping the sleeves of my jacket.

He nodded, like he’d expected that answer. “Yeah, I figured. That’s why I came out here.”

He gave a slight nod, his face serious again. “Just don’t shut us out, alright? If you need to talk or need a distraction, we’re here.” He glanced back toward the door of Malone’s, then added, “Joe left, by the way. Said something about needing to clear his head. I think you both just need some space.”

I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or frustrated. Joe leaving only added to the uncertainty swirling inside me. “I guess that’s for the best,” I muttered, pushing myself off the wall. “I don’t know how much more I can handle right now.”

“Yeah, he’s complicated like that,” Jamar continued, his tone light, but his eyes were sharp, watching me closely. “He pretends he’s all chill and collected, but deep down? He’s just as messed up about this as you are.”

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “That’s comforting.”

Jamar bumped my shoulder lightly, his grin returning. “Hey, I’m just saying—he’s not some robot. You’re not the only one feeling weird about this.”

I didn’t respond, the weight of his words settling over me.

Jamar studied me for a moment, then sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I get that. I do. But listen, you don’t have to do this alone. You’ve got Maddie, and you’ve got me. And if you need me to keep Joe in check, I got you.” He smirked lightly, trying to lighten the mood. “He may be a little too quiet for his own good, but I’ll make sure he doesn’t make things awkward for you. And honestly, Joe’s not as scary as you think.”

“Debatable,” I muttered, earning a chuckle from him.

“Fair,” he said, stepping away from the wall. “But seriously, don’t let this eat you up. You’re tougher than you give yourself credit for.”

I watched as he walked back toward the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. “Oh, and Maddie’s probably in there plotting how to cheer you up, so brace yourself.”

Despite everything, I smiled. “Thanks, Jamar.”

He winked before disappearing back inside, leaving me alone with my thoughts—and a small, fleeting sense of hope.

As Jamar started to head back inside, I stayed a moment longer, trying to steady myself. I knew I couldn’t run away from this forever. Sooner or later, I was going to have to face Joe. And when that time came, I hoped I’d be able to handle it without letting everything fall apart.

But for now, I took a deep breath, and when I walked back through the door of Malone's, it felt like stepping back into a world where the past was waiting to meet me.

[artsninspo]

VERY MERRY MARTINI🍸 - RIO X READER

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

: ̗̀➛ rio's library - good girl nbc

𐙚 based on this request | ♡ a flash forward of this

summary: Returning home for Christmas dredges up old wounds and unexpected sparks. Between family chaos and a chance encounter with her first love, Rio, she’s swept into a whirlwind of bittersweet memories and heated confessions. Can they rewrite their story, or will their past keep them apart? A cocktail of love, nostalgia, and second chances awaits.

tropes: second chance romance, small town nostalgia, reformed bad boy & unresolved emotional conflict - angst, fluff and a sprinkle of steam

pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Reader

word-count: ~ 2K

You pluck a peppermint from the dish at the bar, untwisting the wrapper and pluck the candy into your mouth as nostalgia hits you. Sucking on the candy you remember a time where your granny’s crystal dishes were full of them and Christmas meant family and holiday cheer instead of restaurants and swanky parties. Your parents divorce has shattered all the warm and fuzzy feelings and in spite of being back in town for the first time in almost a decade everything feels different - but not in a good way. Being a child of divorce to two prideful parents is a full time job.

“What can I get for you?” a young bartender smiles.

“A … merry martini” you respond with a smile checking the menu.

“Coming right up” he winks flirting for his tip. You shift in your seat looking at all the other rejects who like you have nowhere better to be. The drink is slid in front of you and you open your purse.

“You're too pretty to pay” he winks, making you smile.

“Merry christmas” you say, raising a glass to him and taking a sip to take the edge off. Your holidays are stacked with activities and outings. Both of your parents want to show off their girl - like you’re some prized fucking heifer. They’ve tried their best at normalcy so there's no room for honest discussion on how much the chaos hurts. Your father went from married man, to divorcee where you and boxing were the light of his life. But you had been replaced with a new wife and a son who could be his prodigy. Then there was your mother who’d left the marriage committed to becoming her own light. Now she shines so bright it's blinding. Her and her husband are so perfect it’s hard to share space with them. Not to mention the competition between both parents had you in a constant tug of war.

“Another one please” you smile shamelessly placing a twenty in the tip jar.  The bartender nods without judgement making another one. This time you wince at the strength of the first sip. “Perfect” you wink and he smiles tending to the other patrons.

“Davis”  a man introduces himself to your left. Your mind tells you he's a predator. When you’d been looking your best he had not approached but after two drinks in under five minutes he's grown a pair.

“Not interested” you respond dismissively.

“Why not, you dont think I'm handsome?” he asks but you'd bet your last dollar he was married. You glance at his left hand and bingo, there's a faint indentation. The vulture in front of you thinks he’s gonna get some easy ass.

“I could be piss drunk and never give you the time of day or night - get lost” you tell him not in the mood to be used and discarded or sold a dream.

“Is that so?” he asks a glutton for punishment.

“Mhm” you respond, draining cocktail number two and he smiles handsome enough under the right circumstances.

“Maybe I was just being kind to the trainwreck at the bar. Spreading holiday kindness to the less fortunate” he jabs.

“No wonder your wife doesnt fuck you, I wouldnt either. How does putting me down make you feel, mister kind man?” you ask patronizing him some more. His chest rises and his body goes rigid.

“Careful Davis, this one’s pretty but will lay your ass out” a voice says, giving you goosebumps. “Her pops owns the three boxing gyms in the city. That means after she’s done with you - if she tells pops at least one of the guys will catch you outside” he continues and Davis looks between you and the man with resentment before standing and finding somewhere else to be in the bar. You feel your heart race and try to get yourself together before you turn around.

There he is, in all his glory somehow more attractive now than he’d been all those years ago. Your eyes catch a tattoo on his neck and he slides you your third drink but that's way too dangerous now with him in your midst.

“You were never afraid” you mutter and he smiles.

“Ahh, I lack good sense remember. Your pops only had one gym at the time” he shrugs using the line you used in your break-up. He’d done you dirty, broke your heart and then thumbed your nose in it. He was a part of the reason you never came back home.

“Right” you nod and he looks at the drink with an amused expression. It hadn't been all bad. He could still vividly remember all the nights he spent looking up at his ceiling because the morning couldn't come soon enough. He couldn't wait to see you, feel you, kiss you, sneak you into his house while his granny was working. Nobody topped the feeling you gave him till this day. The two of you had been inseparable and he never cared what people said - he was in love with you and wearing it for everyone to see. It was why your rejection hurt so bad and Nick’s betrayal cut so deep. You never listened, never stopped to hear him out while hurling insults through tears. He couldn't get a word in and then you never spoke to him again - not even when he tried being civil at your graduation.

“How long are you back for?” Rio asks testing your energy towards him.

“None of your business” you respond, making him smile.

“So it’s like that?” he asks.

“It’s like that” you respond.

“So what? Are we gonna be beefing forever?” he asks.

“Why are you behind the bar? You aren’t nice enough to be a bartender.” you comment sipping slow.

“You know me well. I'm the owner,” he says.

“Makes sense,” you nod, looking him over again. The prime location and atmosphere, along with the internet reviews was a signifier of success. “Graduated from illegal to legal impairment” you swallow.

“Look, enjoy your drinks, if you need a cab have my boy call you one” he snaps in bad humour before walking away. He didnt take shit from anyone these days and that would never change. The edge is back on so you scroll looking for another bar and when you find one you head to the bathroom to sober up. Finished from relieving yourself you re-apply your lipstick and fix your hair in the mirror when Rio enters locking the door of the swanky bathroom behind him.

“What's all this?” you ask genuinely confused.

“In case I never see you again I didn’t sell drugs on the job that summer. I stopped like you asked and it fucked Nicks business up because I was the money maker. He asked me to come back and I said no because I was all in on us and the naive shit we had planned. Nick being the spiteful bitch he is, set me up, he knew you’d dump me and you did. You wouldn't hear me out and I couldn't say shit to the cops or my granny would have had two of us inside at once. Couldn't write it in the letters you didn't read either cause they read it and you wouldn't be near me.” Rio says and you look into his eyes. One thing remains true - you still can't tell when he’s lying. Your brain wants to say something smug and spiteful but your heart wants to accept it as truth and move on.

“I was alone and I needed someone to be angry at - it couldn't be my parents so I made it you. Don't sweat it” you shrug, opting for something in the middle.

“Your pops misses you like crazy” he surprises you.

“How do you know that?” you ask.

“We have dinner together once a month, he signed on as my mentor as a part of my probation. Even gave me a loan for this place” Rio says, telling you things you’ve never known.

“He always liked you,” you nod.

“Yeah we’ll I only really meet with him to hear updates about you, every fucking time I hold my breath hoping that I dont hear youre married or engaged because in my head youre still mine” Rio declares speaking directly to your heart. It was the Rio you knew and not the one that got in a relationship with one of your classmates when he was free from his stint in juvie. Although you knew it was just to hurt you, it still did.

“I’m gonna go” you whisper walking forward but he doesn't move around the barred door. He’d been your safe place through the most turbulent times and you’d not returned the favor. Tears well and you wipe them away feeling the effects of the alcohol. Rio catches your arm as you reach for the lock, his eyes lowering as he looks down at you. A thumb swipes away the tears.

“I’m sorry” he whispers, maintaining eye contact. You're seventeen again and find your face scrunching up embarrassingly. Rio continues wiping the tears away feeling emotional himself as he takes you into his arms cradling you into a hug. There was so much that was different, your perfume, your shampoo, how your body felt in his arms, the heels instead of sneakers. The bathroom bar instead of sneaking into the one at your fathers gym. His love for you was unrivalled. The tears slow to a halt after a few minutes and Rio’s hands slide lower down into your lower back. When you look back at him his eyes are encouraging. It's a relief that he finds no satisfaction in your moment of weakness.

“Fix your make up, stay pretty” he says kissing your temple in a gesture so casual it could only be out of love. You don't question him getting your items from your purse again and doing a quick touch up. When you're finished Rio examines the armour you’ve crafted to protect yourself from your own vulnerabilities and gives a nod of approval. Your heart swells with love for him. He takes your chin leaning in for a kiss. It had been too long since your lips had known his. Too long since his tongue claimed yours while being body to body. Since his hands grabbed handfuls of ass and trailed up against the skin of your torso. 

Loud knocks on the door ends the steamy moment.

“I need to PISS” someone slurs on the other side of the door. You smile, stepping back and ridding the smudged lipstick from Rio’s lips. He does the same for you, unlocking the door and moving aside. The drunk patron rushes into a stall paying neither of you any mind.

“Let me take you home,” Rio offers.

“I don't want to go home” you respond.

“You’re going home, I’m not touching you again until you're sober. I need you to feel and remember my shit, you don't get to pretend to forget after I’ve been waiting this long” he says holding your hand. You can't help but smile at his mean ass. He drags you to his office where he gets his keys and to the black truck waiting in the barking lot. He gets your door like old times adjusting the seat to your comfort. His heart races the entire trip to your hotel and he stays in the car knowing he doesn't have the will power to refuse you twice. He watches you turn around and he rolls down his windows so you can see him instead of the tints. Smiling makes you feel optimistic for the first time this entire trip. Hand to lips you blow him a kiss. He smiles, unable to maintain his hard exterior.

“Fuck me” he laughs knowing hes down bad for you. 

Heading to the hotel you hum along to the Christmas music playing in the lobby, sucking on another peppermint you smile at the nostalgia of your and Rio’s good times. Excited to be back home and for the promise of a very merry Christmas.

authors note: thank you for reading, i'm working my way through the holiday requests so yes this will be a one of one, since I'm pretty sure we all knows what happens next. it rhymes with next without the t 😉

Writing for this amazing community is such a joy, and your support helps me keep creating.

If you enjoyed this fic: ❣ Like the post to brighten my day! ❝ Comment—whether it’s a detailed review or a single emoji, I’d love to hear your thoughts. ↺ Reblog to share the story and connect it to others who might love it too.

Vote below and let us know which trope has your heart! ❤️

tags: @meadows5 @wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality @kokobells @ffenthusiastt @sowhatariyana @1xtral1983 @theegoddessofmelanin @fictionalreads @roxytheimmortal

[verspia]

Hi I saw you’re Arda angst ff and I fucking loved it!! I wanted to request a Kenan Yildiz angst fanfic where the reader and Kenan had to get arrange married. But he hated her. He always brought other woman home and she really got sad because she never had the chance to experience real love. Not even from her parents.

He always kept her hidden from social media because he was embarrassed of her. She always went alone and done things alone. The reader is a quite person she an introvert she doesn’t really talk that much or express feelings so she always stays quiet. And she had a really bad childhood, got be@ten up and ignored. She never had a normal childhood. By the time Kenan never knew he starts to see her alone at restaurant or pic nics alone and started to feel guilty but never brought it up.

So one day the reader thought she’s alone at home and Kenan told her that he’ll be away.

So she wanted to sleep without a shirt. And that night Kenan appears there because the game got cancelled and when he approached her he saw her scars on her back that were caused by her parents. He starts to regret treating you like that and starts treating you better and spends time with you.

You can make a fluff or bad ending doesn’t really matter but I always prefer bad endings hehe I would really love for you to make this a story !!

💓💓💓

SAD GIRL • KENAN YILDIZ

( pairing ) kenan yıldız x reader

warnings - trigger warning, violence and abuse, a lot of angst. I tried my best and i hope this meets your expectations 💞

In your eyes, the marriage had been perhaps the best thing to have ever happened to you. It provided you with the opportunity to escape the clutches of your dysfunctional family, and finally find some semblance of normalcy in your life.

Knowing that it had been Kenan had made you feel exhilarated, a feeling that you weren’t quite used to.

Kenan had been reputable for being a rather charismatic gentleman, and his polite, sweet demeanour had been all the talk on your wedding day. You hadn’t met him yet, but the idea of him had made you fall in love.

You couldn’t be blamed, because to you this concept of genuity was so foreign to you, that daydreaming about it had made you feel as if you were on cloud nine.

That was until you truly got to know Kenan behind closed doors. Except you never truly got to know him.

Unlike you, Kenan found this marriage an unappealing burden that had chained him down to a person he could not care less for.

He was incredibly indifferent to your presence, and continued on about as if your marriage had never happened. After the ceremony had occurred and you’d been driven off to a fancy villa, Kenan had behaved as if you didn’t exist.

He never acknowledged your presence until absolutely necessary, and it felt as if you were a ghost living inside this empty house, begging, yearning to be noticed, but never spared a single glance.

For you this marriage had ignited a flicker of hope, of learning to love, and for building a meaningful relationship, a turnabout from the life your parents had imposed on you. You hadn’t imagined anything would hurt more than the scathing words and harsh treatment that they had inflicted upon you, until you were faced with the brutal rejection from Kenan. Atleast, at your parents house, you were never ignored, but with Kenan, you didn’t feel like a person, you felt like a soul in purgatory, suffering endlessly and without anyone to turn to.

This marriage with Kenan broke you in ways that you hadn’t thought possible. How could a rejection from the man you had been promised to have hurt so agonisingly when you didn’t even truly know him?

You couldn’t explain the stark difference in his behaviour from what you’d heard to what you’d experienced, and thus, the only person you had to blame was yourself.

Some nights, when the house is quiet and Kenan’s side of the bed is cold and empty, you lie awake and wonder what it is about you that makes you so unlovable. It’s a question that haunts you, clawing at the edges of your mind until it’s the only thing you can hear. You think back to your childhood, to the years spent trying and failing to earn your parents' love. You tried to be good, to be perfect, to be everything they wanted, but nothing was ever enough. Every cruel word, every slap, every moment of their disdain etched itself into your soul, carving out the belief that you were broken, unworthy, fundamentally flawed. You remember having gone through lengths, making sure you were academically on top, and when that wasn’t enough, pushing yourself towards sports to prove that you were capable, but despite these achievements, your parents refused to acknowledge any of it. You remember once, sitting at the edge of your room, if the tiny space could even be called that, your cheeks red from the stinging slaps and your arms littered with bruises, and not a single tear in your eyes. You felt hollow, the one question rotating over in your head, again and again and again.

“What is wrong with me?”

Your marriage with Kenan has only made this thought return full force, from when it just lingered to the back of your mind, to now always on the forefront of your thoughts, on the tip of your tongue, as if any moment you’d ask the question, say it out loud, but no matter.

Kenan never hears you anyway.

You sit in the spacious lounge of this house, Kenan is home, but you are alone. He’s with someone, another girl who doesn’t share the misfortune as you do, who’s laugh echoes around the house and to you, feels like nails on a chalkboard, pinching at your ears and leaving the heart you have in your chest aching worse as the clock ticks by.

Once again, you sit there and contemplate for perhaps the umpteenth time, the same question that oppresses you.

You see the same disappointment in Kenan’s eyes, the same coldness, the same quiet contempt that tells you what you’ve always feared, there’s something wrong with you. You’ve begun to believe it must be true because why else would Kenan treat you this way? Why else would he refuse to look at you, to touch you, to acknowledge that you’re anything more than an inconvenience he’s forced to endure? Why else would he parade other women in front of you, each of them more beautiful, more captivating, more everything than you’ll ever be?

The more Kenan pulls away, the deeper you sink into yourself, convinced that his indifference is a reflection of your worth. You’ve searched for answers in every mirror, scrutinizing your face, your body, every part of yourself that feels inadequate. You pick apart every flaw, every imperfection, as if solving the puzzle of your own ugliness might finally explain why you are so impossible to love. You try to change, to smile more, to be kinder, quieter, less of whatever it is that pushes people away. But no matter how much you give, no matter how much of yourself you twist and bend and break to fit into the shape of someone deserving, it’s never enough.

The rejection feels like a knife to the heart, twisting deeper each time Kenan walks past you as if you’re nothing. You wonder what it would feel like to be touched by him in kindness, to have him hold you like you mattered, just once. You’ve replayed it in your mind a thousand times, trying to imagine the warmth of his hand in yours, the weight of his arm around your shoulders, the sound of your name spoken with something other than disdain. But that warmth never comes. All you get is the chill of his absence, the searing pain of knowing that you are invisible, unwanted, unloved, and that’s all that you’ll ever be.

Despite all this endless questioning, you never get any closer to understanding why you’re in this predicament.

It hurts, like you’re drowning in a sea of sorrow, and every breath is a struggle against the relentless waves of the ruthless ocean. It’s the taste of salt on your lips—the bitter residue of tears that never seem to end—and the weight in your chest that sits like a stone, heavy and immovable, pressing down with a quiet, unyielding ache.

You have long since given up on hope, that maybe one day it will get better, the pain will decrease, but it never does.

Today, you don’t stay inside, the chattering of the girl twists a little deeper into your poor heart than usual, and you decide to step out.

You somehow make it to a cafe and settle down, in a spot. You’re so attuned to the feeling of loneliness that it doesn’t bother you as people glance at you, some with curiosity and most with pity, preoccupied with your heartache.

You realise just how pathetic, pitiful you must appear. Your face permanently stained with tear marks and eyes so red, your figure frail from negligence on everyone you’ve known, including yourself.

You don’t realise however, that it is enough to warrant headlines.

The next morning you’re going viral on the internet,

“Kenan Yildiz’s wife spotted, lonely and sombre. What could be the cause?”

You can’t help yourself as you look through the comments.

“lol how do we even know if she’s his wife, we’ve never seen a single photo of them together”

“oh please, she’s probably a lying attention seeking white trying to get Kenan’s attention, bet she’s never met the guy. Yawn.”

“Who the fuck is this?”

“Kenan is not married what in the fake news”

You’re not surprised by it, but still it stings. You knew Kenan never made it known that he had been married, the night of your wedding day had become news to the world, but it had been buried away by Kenan’s refusal to acknowledge it.

It wasn’t as if you ever accompanied Kenan anywhere either, you went out alone, he never invited you to his games or any award ceremonies, he ignored you just as much on the outside as he did at home.

The only people who actually acknowledge this news are your parents, they come knocking on your door while Kenan is out, not at all pleased by your act that had so perfectly tarnished their reputation, and then the very night they make it very abundantly clear to you just how much displeasure you bring to them.

The pain is sharp and jagged, like shards of glass lodged deep inside, cutting with every thought, and every word your mother hisses at you, and every hit your father directs at you tears you down further.

When they leave, you’re all by yourself on the floor, like broken china that no one cares about or ever will bother picking up.

That night you cry yourself to sleep, so incredibly tired, and you think to yourself about how much of an abomination you are, if only you didn’t ever exist at all.

You’re mentally exhausted to the point that you fall asleep right there on the floor in your mess. And for the first time, Kenan takes notice of you.

He has always been aware of your presence, but had blatantly rejected it, even though guilt had begun to seep into this facade of pretending that he was indifferent to you.

He had noticed how you were always alone, no friends to tag along with when you went out to a restaurant, and barely anyone to talk to. He noticed how you tried your very hardest to make yourself as small as you could in the home that was supposed to be both his and yours. You never spared any expense on yourself from his money, to the point that all the groceries in the house went untouched by you, never eating the food that was there, as if you felt unworthy of sharing the same stuff he did.

His conscience had fought with him a lot, but then his pertinacity had won out.

Kenan comes home late that night, the weight of his usual indifference wrapped around him like a heavy coat. The house is quiet, too quiet, but it doesn’t feel unfamiliar, because that is how you are, yet as he steps inside, he feels a strange sense of unease. The lights are dim, casting long, flickering shadows across the walls, and for a moment, he almost calls out for you, but stops himself—old habits of pride and detachment still holding him back. As he walks through the hallway, his footsteps echo softly on the wooden floor, and that’s when he sees you, crumpled in the corner, lying there as if the world itself had thrown you away.

He freezes, staring at the scene that steals the breath from his lungs. You’re curled up on the cold, hard floor, your fragile frame barely shielded by the thin shadow that frames you. The soft glow of the lamplight reveals a tapestry of dark, angry bruises spreading across your arms and face, fresh and vicious, like cruel brushstrokes on pale canvas. Your cheeks are stained with dried tears, and your breaths come in shallow, ragged bursts, as if each inhale is a battle against the pain you carry. The sight of you, so small, so vulnerable, hits him like a punch to the gut, and for the first time in a long time, something shifts in him.

Guilt seeps in, thick and suffocating, wrapping around his heart like a vice. He kneels beside you, his hands trembling as he reaches out, hesitant and unsure. He touches your shoulder, lightly at first, afraid of causing you more pain, and when you stir, blinking up at him through swollen eyes, he feels the weight of his neglect crash down on him. He’s been blind to your suffering, wrapped up in his own resentments, his own desires, never once considering the cost of his actions—or inactions—on the person he promised to protect, however unwillingly.

Your own eyes widen a little, surprised at seeing him so close to you, for the first time since your wedding, and you aim to move away, but an egregious amount of pain has you stopping, and you try to keep the groan from escaping out your mouth.

"Who did this to you?" His voice is low, and there’s a vulnerability there, breaking, a far cry from the coldness you’ve grown accustomed to. You don’t answer, still in shock from seeing him so close. That is when you notice the freckles of golden in his green eyes, or perhaps you have a concussion that’s making you see things.

Kenan’s eyes run over your body, the bruises tell a story he can’t ignore, and for the first time, he sees you—not as the burden he’s resented, but as someone who’s been hurt far too many times, someone he’s failed in the worst possible way.

Kenan helps you up, his touch gentler than it has ever been. He wraps his arms around you, careful not to press against your bruises, and for the first time, you feel his warmth—real, unguarded, like he’s trying to shield you from the world that’s been so unkind. He guides you to the bedroom, the one he’s kept so meticulously separate from you, and tucks you into the bed as if you’re something precious. He sits beside you that night, eyes never leaving your face, and vows silently to himself that he will be different, that he will be better. For you, it all feels as if you’re on an alien planet, an alternative reality where everything feels so foreign, unaccustomed to having anyone, not just Kenan, actually look at you beyond the same gaze of disdain that you’ve known your whole life.

In the days that follow, Kenan is not the man you remember. He wakes early to make you breakfast, though he’s clumsy in the kitchen, burning toast and fumbling with the coffee machine. You watch him from the table, wrapped in a blanket, still wary, but there’s something different in his eyes—softer, almost pleading. He sits with you as you eat, quiet but present, as if his mere company might patch over the wounds he’s spent so long ignoring.

He starts to notice the little things—the way you flinch when someone speaks too loudly, the way you keep your head down as if expecting another blow. He learns how sometimes you don’t answer, assuming that he isn’t speaking to you, and it fills him with regret. He learns to be gentle, careful with his words, speaking to you with a softness that feels foreign on his tongue. He doesn’t bring anyone home anymore; the house is yours, a sanctuary he’s determined to protect. Slowly, he starts to open up, telling you about his own struggles, his own fears, the reasons he’s built walls so high around his heart. It’s not an excuse, but it’s a start, and you find yourself listening, inching closer with each shared truth.

Kenan begins to take you out on walks in the park, away from the stifling walls of the house that holds too many memories. He holds your hand, tentatively at first, but when you don’t pull away, he squeezes a little tighter, as if to say he’s here now, and he’s not going anywhere. He surprises you with small gestures—your favorite flowers on the table, a book you mentioned once, a soft touch on your shoulder when you seem lost in thought. It’s awkward and unsure, but it’s real, and each day, the distance between you shrinks just a little more.

One evening, as the sun sets and paints the room in hues of gold, Kenan sits beside you on the couch, holding your hand. He’s nervous, you can tell, but his eyes are earnest. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice cracking under the weight of everything he’s kept buried. “For all of it. For not seeing you, for not being what you needed. I know I’ve hurt you, and I can’t take that back, but I want to try. I want to be better—for you.”

For a moment, you say nothing, the words catching in your throat. But when you look at him, really look at him, you see someone trying, someone who’s finally willing to let you in. You nod, squeezing his hand back, and though the road ahead is uncertain, for the first time, it feels like it’s yours to walk together.

fin

[sweetcherryharry]

Begin Again — 04

Synopsis: Harry and Y/N had a secret relationship for almost two years, until they broke up. A year later, she shows up at one of his Love On Tour shows.

(masterlist)

There he stood, right in front of her, a smile playing on his lips as their gazes met. Y/N felt a rush of emotions, a mix of surprise, nostalgia, and an underlying current of something more profound. The unspoken words of their past seemed to linger in the air between them.

Harry, with his soft brown curls and a simple white shirt paired with jeans and worn-out vans, looked like a page from a memory that she had been trying to forget. Yet, as he stood there, the year they hadn’t seen each other melted away, and they found themselves suspended in a moment that defied time; it seemed like the past months never happened.

The Love Band's living room, with its soft lighting and the faint melody of Fleetwood Mac in the background, turned into a cozy space where only the current moment held importance, at least for Y/N and Harry.

"Hi, sunflower," he replied, the words carrying a weight that transcended the casual greeting. The endearment was a throwback to the days when Harry used to affectionately call her by that sweet nickname, a reminder of their time together.

To Y/N, hearing it from him sounded bittersweet, like the echoes of a melody that brought both the joy of nostalgia and the ache of what they were once.

As Harry spoke, his heart seemed to beat in his chest like the rhythm of a familiar song. In awe of her presence, he couldn't help but marvel at the woman she was. The way her eyes sparkled, the slight curve of her lips as she smiled – it was a sight he had missed more than he realized. 

In that suspended moment, their gazes held a conversation that words struggled to capture. Without a word, Y/N found herself stepping forward, drawn by an instinct that transcended logic. Harry, as if guided by the same unspoken force, opened his arms, a silent invitation.

As they embraced, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the comforting warmth of each other's presence. The hug felt like coming home after a long journey, a familiar haven that resonated with shared laughter, whispered secrets, and the soft melody of their intertwined past.

For a moment, the cozy living room encapsulated the essence of what they used to be – a refuge where their souls met without pretense. The faint scent of Harry's cologne, the gentle rise and fall of their shared breaths, all contributed to the sanctuary of the embrace.

However, as they lingered in the hug, reality began to reassert itself. The made-up living room, once an intimate haven, became a stage where the complexity of their emotions played out. They reluctantly pulled away, a mutual understanding passing between them. The connection was undeniable, but so was the need for boundaries.

"I loved the show, Harry, you did amazing," Y/N said, a soft smile on her lips as she attempted to bridge the transition from the warmth of the hug to the safer ground of friendship. "I love the new album, too."

Harry's eyes crinkled at the corners, appreciating her genuine compliment. "Thanks, Y/N. It means a lot coming from you."

In his mind, he couldn't help but think that she was the muse behind the songs, wondering if she realized the entire album was dedicated to her. The melodies and lyrics, born from their shared experiences, whispered a silent acknowledgment of the impact she had on his creative journey.

"I can see how much you've all grown as a band," Y/N continued, her gaze drifting to the people surrounding them, all engaging in conversation between them, trying to give the couple a little privacy. "The Love Band has really evolved, and it's inspiring."

Harry nodded, a humble gratitude in his response. "We've put a lot of heart into it. It's been quite a journey."

"Speaking of journeys, these are my best friends, Natalie and Maia," Y/N chimed in, a playful glint in her eye, pointing towards the two girls that stood a few meters away. "Let me present you to them; they're fans, just like me." She joked, and Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the playful introduction.

Both Harry and Y/N walked towards them, and as they neared, Natalie and Maia exchanged excited glances, their smiles widening at the sight of the acclaimed musician in their midst.

"Harry, these are my best friends, Natalie and Maia," Y/N chimed in, a playful glint in her eye, gesturing towards the two girls who stood now close to the pair. "Natalie and Maia, this is Harry."

Harry offered a warm smile, extending his hand to each of them. "Nice to meet you both."

Natalie and Maia, both trying to contain their excitement —understanding that he was also their friend’s ex-boyfriend— shook his hand enthusiastically, exchanging introductions with genuine joy. "Nice to meet you Harry, we enjoyed the show so much," Natalie admitted.

Y/N, sensing the formal atmosphere, playfully rolled her eyes. "Okay, you two, you can fangirl. It's okay."

This broke the ice, and they all burst into laughter. The living room, with its soft lighting and the distant hum of Fleetwood Mac's tunes, witnessed the easy camaraderie of new friends. As they settled into conversation, the transition from fan admiration to genuine connection felt effortless, the shared laughter echoing in harmony with the melodies that surrounded them.

Y/N, sensing Natalie and Maia's eagerness to get to know one of the artists they both admired, decided to give them some space. With a smile, she excused herself, mentioning she needed a moment and headed towards the conjoined bathroom.

As she closed the door behind her, Y/N took a deep breath, grateful for the chance to collect her thoughts in the brief solitude. The room's distant chatter and laughter, though comforting, served as a stark reminder of the evening's unexpected reunion with Harry.

As her eyes met her reflection in the bathroom mirror, a mix of emotions played across her face. There was joy, undoubtedly, at the sight of Harry again after a year of separation. His presence evoked a rush of memories, laughter, and shared moments that had shaped a significant chapter of her life. Yet, intertwined with that joy was an ache, a reminder of the emotions she thought time had dulled.

The realization hit her; she had missed him more than she allowed herself to acknowledge. Seeing him, hearing his voice, brought back the echoes of the past, the shared dreams and the bitter taste of the breakup that lingered beneath the surface. It was as if time had folded, and for a moment, the wound felt fresh again.

She held back tears, feeling the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings. The bathroom, with its muted ambiance, became a sanctuary where she grappled with the bittersweet truth of their renewed connection. The mix of emotions was a testament to the complexity of their history, a narrative that had left an indelible mark on her heart.

Lost in her whirlwind of memories and emotions, Y/N hadn't realized how much time had passed. The knock on the bathroom door jolted her back to the present, and she hastily wiped away a stray tear. "Coming!" she called out, her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

A familiar voice responded, breaking through the door's barrier. "It's me, sunflower. Can I come in?"

Y/N took a big breath, her heart fluttering at the endearing nickname that held echoes of a shared past. With a decisive nod, she unlocked the door, letting him in.

The bathroom door swung open, revealing a smiling Y/N, standing amidst the faint glow of the room. Yet, as normal as she tried to portray herself, he knew her more than she knew herself.

Harry stepped in, closing the door behind him, his green eyes holding a mixture of concern and understanding. "Are you okay?" he asked gently.

Y/N nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Yeah, just needed a moment.” The bathroom felt like their own little bubble and privacy; vulnerable. And for a moment, this was her Harry —well, was— and decided to just be honest. “It's just… a lot to take in, you know?"

Harry mirrored her sad smile, acknowledging the weight of their reunion. "I understand. It's a lot for me too." He gently touched her arm in a comforting gesture, a silent reassurance that spoke volumes. "I never expected to see you in the crowd again… after everything.”

For him, the sight of her in the audience triggered a strong sense of déjà vu, as if time had folded back on itself, recalling the moments when she used to be a familiar face in the crowd every night during their time together.

Feeling the warmth of his touch and the weight of shared history, Y/N found herself enveloped in a spontaneous hug. Harry's arms wrapped around her, a familiar embrace that brought a rush of mixed emotions. At that moment, words seemed inadequate, so they let the hug speak for itself.

"I missed you, bug," Harry whispered, his voice tinged with sincerity. "I'm glad you're here."

Y/N, her eyes damp with unshed tears, managed a small, heartfelt smile. "Me too." The simplicity of those words carried the depth of the emotions they both felt. In the shared hug, amidst the echoes of their past and the uncertainties of the present, they found a moment of solace—a bridge between what was and what could be.

hellooo i'm back!! :) if you want to be added to the taglist, please reply to this post! thank you so much for the support, hope u enjoy &lt;3

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[joshsindigostreak]

'Tis the Damn Season

“I’m staying at my parent’s house, and the road not taken looks real good now…”

A Holiday One Shot 🎄

Josh Kiszka x F!Reader

Authors Note: Happy Holidays y’all!! Here’s a cozy Josh piece that is very self indulgent but so sweet!! Happy reading and I can’t wait to hear your thoughts! 🍷🎄

Word Count: 8.5K

Warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, 18+, unprotected sex, oral sex both m/f receiving, swearing, internal angst.

Despite the ambient noise of the dive bar you were perched in, for the first time in three days you finally felt at peace. You loved your parents, but visiting them these days could be overwhelming, especially with the revolving door of family members showing up unannounced. There was only so much small talk one could take. You had lost count of how many times you described your job, your passion, as an acquisitions editor at a small publishing house, to various family members. Eventually you had to simplify it with a curt, “I get to be the person to say ‘yay,’ or ‘nay’ on their book submissions.” 

You loved your job. As much as it sucked to be the bad guy sometimes, the benefits of being able to work remotely and at your own pace made up for it. Getting paid to read was the best thing to happen to you in your twenties so far, and even though the pay wasn’t spectacular, you wouldn’t trade it for anything. There were times you were worried that making your passion your job would burn you out of reading in your own time, but so far you still found the time to bury your nose in a new tome of choice. 

When you had packed for your trip back home, a small stack of books made it into your luggage, along with your trusty Kindle that was loaded with various quick reads that let you turn your brain off and enjoy the ride. It took everything within you to not check your work emails on your laptop, but you were on the precious few PTO days your employer had allotted everyone in your department, and you were determined to use them properly. 

The bar you had sought refuge in was a local one a few blocks from your house. It was one your dad would always go to hang out with his buddies when you were younger and he was still working that 9-5 throughout the week. 

As you sat on the wobbly bar stool, your ankles crossed and your toes rested on the metal bar attached to the wood paneling of the bar itself. A solitary glass of dark red wine sat on the bar top, inches from the book you were devouring. It wasn’t anything complicated, and many would call it a dime-a-dozen romantic fantasy, filled with magic and tall dark love interests with horrific social skills. But sometimes, the familiar nature of the plot and characters was comforting. The plot might not have been overly unique, but the curiosity of how the author was going to weave together these tropes was half the fun. How was this author going to handle the “oh…” moment between two enemies? What mundane task will trigger the main character into a flashback of a lost love that got away? 

This personal game of yours was a slippery slope, as you had to practically pavlov yourself into not going into work mode while reading, but you kept yourself in check for the most part. At least that's what you would tell yourself. 

You flipped another page in the book, eager to see how the current scene was unfolding. The imagery was building in your mind so well that you hadn’t even noticed a familiar, sweet and dimpled face, had slipped into the bar with a few friends. 

Josh had shed his fluffy, faux fur lined coat, one that was way too ostentatious for the small town atmosphere, but he wrote it off on how practical it was for keeping the cold winter air from chilling his bones. He had decided against the beanie that he typically wore with it, in favor of letting his hair show itself off as it normally did. Tonight was not the night for hat-hair, though the singer was unsure where this conclusion had come from earlier in the evening. The nagging feeling of, you need to look nice, had been lingering in his brain for the past few hours. 

In his typical fashion, he hadn’t shut his mouth the entire time he had been inside the establishment. Rattling off story after story from being on the road with his brothers and their band, cracking up at his own jokes, letting the excitement of being home and seeing the same faces he grew up with. 

The pool table in the far corner had been where his group had settled, drinks settled on the edge with pool sticks in their hands. Josh was bent over the table settling in to make his shot when a figure hunched slightly on a bar stool, turning a page in the book sitting on the bar top.

 Your profile was slightly obscured from where he was an how you were sitting on the stool, and it wasn’t until the bartender came over to refill your wine glass and your name tumbled from their mouth in conversation that it clicked for the rock star who had probably made the worst pool shot in his life at the sound of it. 

You. It was you. 

His cheeks heated in the embarrassment of his shitty shot and the memories that materialized in his mind’s eye. Sitting next to you in algebra, making eye contact and shrugging when neither of you knew whatever the fuck your teacher was talking about. Or walking past you in the hallway as you slammed your locker shut trying to book it to your next class. He’d ignored the sinking feeling he had every time it happened that had him wishing his locker was in the same hall as yours, not annoying around the corner. But other times of bumping elbows with you in the lunch line, sharing grimaces at the dry square pizza in front of you. A few of the dumb sarcastic quips he’d made in class in a hushed whisper  (well, as much of a whisper as Josh Kiszka could produce), just to make you bite your lip and try not to giggle too loud, echoed in his mind. 

He hadn’t seen you since the last week of senior year, specifically at a graduation party one of your mutual friends had thrown together last minute. His final memory of your face was how it crumpled slightly as a very tipsy Morgan Pearson had led him up the stairs. It was an image that had haunted him for a long time, because by the time he had made it back downstairs you had already left the party, and he knew you were off on your summer road trip with your parents in the morning. From there he had observed on Facebook you settling into your freshman dorm in a school that was states away, seemingly doing well. Eventually his own band took over all of his time and his internet scrolling was behind him as he saw the world with his brothers. 

Fuck. 

He needed to talk to you. 

Your eyes flitted over to the next page as you took in the new chapter heading, not wanting to be distracted from the cliffhanger the previous chapter had ended on. 

The heroine had just discovered some deep family secrets that rattled her entire being, changing the entire trajectory of her journey so-

“Whatcha readin’?” 

The fantasy world in your mind dissolved at the sound of that voice. A voice, as the cliche says, you hadn’t heard in years. If it had been anyone else, you would have bitten their head off for rudely interrupting your reading, But slowly your eyes fluttered upwards at the source, using every mitochondria in your body to not visibly react at how…different he looked. Not different in an unrecognizable way, but in a way that showed you that he had grown into his own body. That the boyish awkwardness had evolved into a strong jaw and broad shoulders. He…he had facial hair now, and briefly a memory flashed in your mind of him in junior year lamenting about how patchy his upper lip was no matter what he did. 

The sides of his head were shorn down to the skin, and the dim lighting of the bar had you almost convinced he had a mohawk until you looked closer and saw it was closer to a mullet instead. It was a look you would have never considered for him, but it fit perfectly, and he looked beautiful with it. 

And there it was, the knot that would form in your throat whenever you were in his presence. You hadn’t felt that particular sensation since the night of that god awful graduation party. The very party where you had last seen the man before you. 

Your mouth parted dumbly as he parked himself on the stool next to yours. 

“...Josh?” was all you could say. 

He breathed out your name, in a low tone that made your stomach flip. As he took a sip of whatever mixed drink he had in one hand, his other reached over for your book to get a good look of the cover. Emotional and muscle memory kicked in and you allowed him in your personal space, practically letting him take the book out of your hands. In the past, the two of you were always spatially close. Eating off each other's plates, unconsciously scooting your chairs closer together, or grabbing the same seats on the bus for field trips. You weren’t attached to the hip, but somehow whenever you would be in the same room you’d always end up next to each other. 

Josh mouthed the words of the title silently to himself, eyebrows raising slightly at your book of choice. 

“Must be pretty good, you didn’t even notice me walking over,” he said before taking another sip of his drink. 

A nervous laugh rattled through you, “y-yeah it’s pretty immersive.” 

Your eyes were trained on his face, mapping out all of the same but new features, and you wondered if he was doing the same to you as his warm gaze hadn’t left you. 

Josh was most definitely taking you in, as well. You looked so proper sitting on that stool in an oversized black sweater that fell past your hips and hid most of the skirt you had been wearing under it. He tried his best not to make it obvious he was staring at your legs and the tights that were wrapped around them that led down to your boots. But the singer flicked his eyes back to your face, and noted all the subtle changes since the last time he had seen you. You looked so…grown up now, that he felt like he had missed so much in the last few years. It was a feeling he had whenever he came back home, but with you…with you it bothered him, and that feeling caught him off guard. 

Because he was Josh, and he could never let silence linger too long, “so what made you bring a book to a bar of all places?” 

And in a matter of seconds, you began relaying to him how the trip back home had been the last few days, and how much you needed a break from it all. 

“...you remember that uncle that's technically my dads cousin but I call him uncle cause he’s a lot older than my dad?”

Josh nodded along. 

“He’s so fucking loud, dude. And he never shuts up and because of this my grandmother turns up the TV and no one tells him to quiet down so between the TV blasting and him rambling about the dumbest things…ugh and my mother wouldn’t stop hovering over me! I needed to get out of there.” 

He smiled as you hashed out your family drama, flashing his teeth as he did so. There were follow up questions on his end, asking about your parents and grandparents and how they had been. Josh had been one of your few friends who went out of his way to be charming to your parents. He had earned the, “oh Josh is welcome any time he wants…” invitation by fifth grade alone. 

You took a sip of your wine, “oh my god I’ve been talking so much about me, what about you? How’s the band going?” 

It was his turn to blush slightly as he began telling you about the most recent tour they had been on, and how this was a mini break between tour legs and that at the beginning of the year they were off to a new continent. 

He pointed over his shoulder at his friends who were still milling around the pool table, “...in fact Danny is right over there.” 

You turned and gave the drummer a once-over. The last time you had seen Danny Wagner he was this gangly awkward teenager who nervously laughed at everything. But there he was, in a red sweater with perfect spiral curls spilling over his shoulders. The sweater itself was very form fitting on him and it was easy to see how muscled out his shoulders and arms had become over the years. 

“Holy shit, that’s Danny Wagner?” You gave him a slight wave when he made eye contact with you, and he politely waved back with a shy smile. 

Josh, rather indignantly, noticed the way you were looking at Danny and a sharp stabbing feeling of jealousy shot through him. Heat reached the surface of his cheeks and he momentarily contemplated reaching over to gently turn your chin back to him. 

But before Josh could even shove that thought away, you turned to fully face him, and gave a nod to the bartender to get you another glass of wine. Something deep down felt more settled when your attention was fully back on him.

However, you could feel those big brown eyes staring at you as you glanced at Danny. It was such a fixed stare that you were all too familiar with. In the rare moments that Josh was quiet, he would be staring into space, deep in thought. More often than not you chalked it up to him zoning out, but having those unblinking eyes on you had your heart hammering in your chest. 

It wasn’t the first time he had looked at you like that. There were several small,  fleeting moments throughout your adolescence where you’d catch his eyes on you. On the bus coming home from a field trip, walking towards you at your locker, in US History, and even at various house parties you found yourselves at. Your reaction was always the same: the skin of your neck would heat up and prickle up to your cheeks as they flushed. He never called you on it, and for a long time you had convinced yourself that he just hadn’t noticed. Because he never said anything, the idea of it actually meaning something was too great to get your hopes up for. 

There it was, Josh thought. 

That flush of color that darkened your skin whenever he looked at you for too long. It had taken him an embarrassing amount of time to figure out that he was the cause of it, but when he did he would sometimes make you blush on purpose. Maybe it was an ego thing, but he also couldn’t believe you reacted that way to him. He hated the term of someone being out of someone’s league; but even after being in the spotlight for his career and knowing what it felt like when a room full of people swooned at him he still didn’t feel he was in the same universe as yours. 

You were always so poised and collected, even during your awkward stage. Whereas he was always pinging off the walls with his endless supply of energy and charm. 

Why would you even consider a little shit like him?  

The blissful silence was interrupted however, when you saw the door to the bar swing open and a new group of people rushed in to escape the cold. Josh’s back was to the door, but he watched your eyes travel to the side to look behind him, and he didn’t hesitate to whip his head around to see who you were looking at. 

Only one of them rang a bell, a dirty blonde in a bright blue winter coat. Was she in his home room? No…but her locker had been on the same hallway as his. 

“Is that…?”

“Miranda Sheridan,” you murmured  a little too quickly as you turned back to your wine and fiddled with the corner of your book. In all honesty, you didn’t have an issue with Miranda. The two of you had gotten along just fine in school. Well enough that you secured invites to her house from time to time. Well, Josh, had secured invites for you. 

“Oh yeah her parents had that huge property!” He excitedly remembered while throwing a gentle wave in her direction.

You hated the way your stomach twisted when she waved back.  

Her parents owned a couple of acres out in the county, which wasn’t very elaborate, but it was perfect for a lot of the parties teenagers would get themselves into. Josh particularly remembered her dad had an old toolshed in the back that their friends tried to hot box more than once. 

Naturally, her place had been the place to host the main graduation party. You tried to think of anything else, but your mind flooded with the memories of walking around her house with a cliched solo cup, trying to find Josh, your anchor in social situations, and coming up empty and settling on the couch. When you finally laid eyes on him, he was being led by the hand towards the stairs by another girl. No it hadn’t been Miranda, but someone else in your grade that had a very obvious crush on Josh and never tried hiding it. 

Josh looked over his shoulder, his tongue between his teeth as he laughed at something someone said as he walked by. His smile faded as soon as he saw you, sitting all by yourself on the couch. His feet were moving for him, but not towards you. He was already ascending the stairs, eyes locked on yours before the girl attached to his arm tugged at his wrist to get his attention and he followed her upstairs and out of sight. 

That had been the last time you had seen Josh before tonight. 

And by emotional muscle memory, your stomach plummeted just as it had years ago. 

Before you could stop it, you bit out, “we went to her graduation party, remember?” 

The singer’s head snapped back to face you.

That party. 

His voice was quiet, “you…you left early, didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t feeling well.” 

He could tell it was a lie. An excuse. 

“I just meant…I tried finding you after-”

“After what?” Once again your mouth betrayed you. 

The trunk of the elephant in the room was practically wrapping around Josh’s neck, and his chest felt tight. 

Even softer, he said “after I came downstairs…”

In response, all you did was hum into your glass as you took another sip, an eyebrow arching like a freshly-awoken cat. 

“I had to get home anyway. I had to be on a plane early the next morning.” 

That, he remembered. Your parents had surprised you with a trip across the country as your graduation present. 

But Josh struggled to find the words of what he wanted to say. He hadn’t even been upstairs for twenty minutes before he finally flew down the stairs to find you, only to see the couch filled with different people and one of your other friends informing him that you had caught a ride back home. 

It hadn’t been a complete cut off, the two of you still texted as normal for a few weeks and liked each other's facebook statuses. But the texts became less frequent, and eventually dwindled down to leaving each other on delivered for days at a time. With the band finally starting to take off, and you drowning in your college classes, communication became near impossible. 

“Right…”

“Plus I didn’t want to interrupt your night. You were having too much fun up there.”

This time it was Josh’s turn to twist the side of his mouth and quirk an eyebrow, “what exactly do you think I did that night?”

You scoffed slightly and tilted your head, “Josh.” 

“No, I want you to say it.” 

You stared at him. It felt dumb to get to this point but you weren’t embarrassed. But the same jealousy and adrenaline from that night flooded your system, and after rolling your lip between your teeth you replied, 

“You and…whats her name…hooked u-”

“We didn’t hook up,” he said firmly, not blinking. 

“Made out-”

“We didn’t make out, either.” 

“Well what were you doing up there?” You huffed. 

“Don’t get me wrong, she clearly wanted to do both of those things. But before she could even try to kiss me she was doubled over puking all over the bathroom sink. I spent the next few minutes holding her hair while she let it all out. Apparently all of the vodka shots caught up with her.” 

You sat there, face unmoving as you took in what he said. For years you had it built up in your head that while you were fleeing that house your best friend was hooking up with someone else. 

Now the embarrassment started to creep in. 

The quiet tone returned, “I didn’t even like her like that anyway.” 

You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you now. 

You had to get out of here. This was too much. 

“I need to get going,” you began as you started to dig through your purse to pay for your drinks.

Josh was quicker than you and he turned to the bartender and slapped his card down on the bar top and asked to pay for his tab and yours. 

“Josh you don’t have to-” 

“But I am,” he said firmly, looking at you out of the corner of his eye as he scribbled on the receipts. 

That tone…that tone was new coming from him. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t annoyed, but he was being authoritative in a way you hadn’t heard before. 

Your insides were squirming for multiple reasons now. 

After the bills were settled he faced you again. He wasn’t letting you slip away again. He couldn’t.  

“Let me walk you home.”

You slid off the bar stool, “it's only a couple blocks, Josh, you don’t have to.” 

“I want to.” 

There was again, that tone. 

Not wanting to fight anymore, you nodded and the both of you made your way to the exit for your coats. You caught Josh tapping out a quick text to who you assumed was Danny to let him know where he was going. 

Silently the two of you slipped outside and into the winter air. The icy breeze stung your face after being used to the heat of the bar. You shivered slightly, but tried not to show it as you turned toward the direction of your house. 

Josh shoved his hands in his pockets for warmth, noticing the tiny flakes that had begun to fall from the sky. Had it even been forecasted to snow tonight? In any case, he purposely walked a little closer to you, letting your arms brush together. 

“I didn’t know it was supposed to snow tonight?” You wondered out loud. 

“Mother Nature is spiteful, that way, I guess.”

He hated how awkward it felt now. How the familiarity and ease of talking to you had evaporated as soon as Miranda Sheridan had chosen that specific bar to walk into. 

Soon enough, your house was in view, and your steps picked up the pace to get there faster. Josh followed you into the driveway and to the side of the garage where there were stairs that led up to your room above it. You moved into that space your senior year after your dad had renovated it, and he had only been in it a handful of times before graduation. 

Before you could even reach for the rail, Josh’s hand flew out of his pocket and took a hold of yours, gently lacing your fingers with his. 

The sudden contact had your heart in your throat. 

“You really thought I hooked up with her?” He felt your hand stiffen at his words, but he continued, “as soon as I saw you on that couch, I knew I was making a mistake.”

The flakes started coming down harder now, growing in size as they fell. 

“But you still went up there.”

His shoulders sank slightly, “I know…I shouldn’t have though. She wasn’t the girl I liked anyway.”

Denial is a strong thing, and you were letting it win, “she wasn’t?”

“No…I liked someone else but I second guessed myself all the time around her, thinking she’d never be into me anyway.” 

“How could you be sure of that?”

Josh’s fingers squeezed your hand, “I don’t know she just…she could do so much better than me and there were plenty of better options out there. Never thought I stood a chance.”

Your jaw started trembling and you weren’t sure if it was from the cold or from what he was implying.

 

“You really think there are better options than you?” You mirrored his earlier comment back to him. 

His eyes slowly met yours, deliberately giving you the look he knew would darken your cheeks. 

“So much better…”

“I don’t think so…,” your voice was almost as soft as the snow that was accumulating on the ground around you. 

Consequences be damned, you started to lean towards his face. 

His long eyelashes fluttered slightly as he realized what you were doing, and he leaned in and gently brushed his full lips against yours.

At the contact, your heart went from hammering in your chest to exploding. Years of daydreaming of this scenario had finally come to an end, culminating in a kiss that had your knees shaky.

He pulled away slightly to look at you again, only to surge forward and slide his free hand up your jaw to cradle your face. His lips pressed against yours even harder, a sudden wave of emotion taking the wheel in Josh’s mind. 

The both of you had years of pent up feelings and the dams were breaking. 

His other hand reluctantly dropped your hand in favor of wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you closer. 

The move took you by surprise, but you relaxed in his arms and tilted your head slightly and parted your lips. Immediately his tongue ran along your bottom lip before delving into your mouth. A low groan rose from his throat and his fans flexed slightly against your cheek.

A gust of wind whipped around you, causing you to shiver against his lips. 

“N-need to get you inside,” Josh chuckled, leaning his forehead on yours. 

You took a step backwards, resting your foot on the first step. 

“Come up with me?”

He answered with a quick kiss on your lips and mumbled, “lead the way…”

With a grin you turned and hurried up the steps, trying your best not to slip in the slush. Your hands shook as you unlocked your door, nearly stumbling inside to escape the cold. 

As soon as you had shut the door, Josh pushed you against it and started unzipping your coat and planting his lips on your neck. You made quick work of his too and both outer layers were haphazardly thrown onto a chair in the corner. His icy hands started fiddling with the bottom of your sweater, and you both paused at the silent question of going forward. 

He lifted his head out of the crook of your neck to look at you, “we don’t have to if you don’t…I mean we can just hang out if thats all-” 

You shushed him by taking his strong jaw in your hands and gave him a searing kiss. He kissed you back as another wave of emotion washed over him.

 

After letting his lips warm up against yours you pulled back and stared into his eyes, “Josh…this is all I want right now.” 

His eyelashes fluttered again, and this time his cheeks were darkening at the look you were giving him. 

“You sure?” 

“Please…”

Not needing to be told twice, his hands disappeared under your sweater and swept across the skin of your sides. You jolted slightly at how cold they were, but didn’t let it deter you from kissing him again, melting into his touch. His hands slowly rose to cup your breasts through your bra, and the light squeeze had you fighting to keep the low whine in your throat. 

Josh noticed you holding back and leaned in to whisper in your ear, “it’s just me…let me hear you…” 

The low tone of his voice had your body shivering under his hands and when his teeth grazed the skin of your neck you didn’t even try to hold back the breathy whine you made. Impatiently you helped him get your sweater off of your body, flinging it blindly to the side. You stared at the hungry look in his eyes as you reached behind your back to unhook your bra. Wanting to torture him even further, you purposely took your time letting it slide off your arms and onto the floor. His eyes never left your chest as he reached to take one of your breasts into his hand, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. Before you could fully register the feeling he was bending his head down to replace his fingers with his mouth, moaning into your soft skin. He gave the other side the same attention, before reaching behind you for the zipper to your skirt. 

As he knelt down to shimmy it down your hips, you practically clawed at his long sleeve shirt off of him. The lighting  in your room was dim, but you were able to see all of the muscles on his body that were definitely not there the last time you saw him. His arms were much more toned than you thought, and his shoulders and chest were defined in a way that had your lip rolling into your mouth between your teeth. 

Josh made quick work in getting your boots off, helping you step out of them and your skirt. His eyes flicked up at you and they were so much darker than before. He rose to his feet quickly and slammed his mouth onto yours, squeezing your hips and the back of your thighs as he directed you to jump and wrap your legs around him. With a level of coordination you didn’t know he had, you were spun around while he walked the both of you to your bed. It was still in the same place it always had been, in the corner by the window. 

He gently sat you on the edge of the bed, kissing down your body until he was once again knelt before you on the floor. The sight of his blown out pupils and swollen lips sent a flash of heat to your core, and you couldn’t even squeeze your thighs together as he was rolling your tights down your legs and swiftly off your feet. 

You never could have anticipated how the night was going to turn out, so your choice in underwear wasn’t the sexiest pair you owned, but that didn’t stop your best friend from planting kisses along the waist band, tentatively dipping his finger tips under the cotton material to start pulling them down. Your breath caught as you raised your hips to help him out, and within seconds your final layer of clothing was added to the pile on the floor. 

Looking down at him, you scooted back towards the headboard with your legs shut, and he crawled up the bed after you. With your head settled on your pillow he hovered above you for a moment, bringing his hand to trace along your jaw and down your neck, looking at you in a way you had only dreamed about thus far. 

You weren’t going to get emotional, but you couldn’t help it. It was just fully hitting you, as you felt the heat radiate off his body, and the weight of him as he settled on top of you. Thankfully your eyes only welled up a tiny bit, but Josh still noticed and his brow furrowed. His eyes softened and he seemed to sense why you were suddenly still and quiet. He could always guess what you were feeling, even when you were kids. 

His thumb brushed your lips so softly you barely felt it, “I know…” 

He kissed the corner of your mouth before leaving a trail of kisses down your throat, chest, and stomach. He brushed his lips across the skin right above your core where your curls started to grow. He was so close to where you needed him. Carefully he planted a few kisses on your thighs before drawing your legs up and bending your knees, taking his time in case you changed your mind at any point. 

Slowly, he spread your legs apart to finally get a proper look at you, and his breath caught in his throat as your gorgeous core laid bare before him. He was glued to his spot on the bed, eyes sweeping your body, having his own moment of realizing that this was real, and you were actually beneath him like this. His eyes traveled back up to yours, unusually silent for someone who always has something to say, no matter the situation. 

Instead, he traveled down the soft flesh of your thigh, leaving searing kisses in his wake. Just when you thought he was going to reach your core, he turned his head to do the same to your other leg. A low whine rumbled in your throat, and you felt his lips spread into a smile against your skin. You felt the faintest huff of breath as he tried to contain a laugh. 

His mouth hovered over your core, just out of reach. He wanted to memorize you, every detail, every feature that was so uniquely you. He used his thumbs to slowly spread your lips apart, dumbfounded at just how wet you were for him and how your arousal was beginning to pool and drip off of you. 

Your hips twitched in his hands, desperate for any contact beyond his feather-light touches. The way he was looking at your body, with blown out pupils and a parted mouth was only driving you crazier. 

At last, he couldn’t hold himself back anymore before dipping his head down to plunge his tongue into your center, moaning as he finally tasted you. A years-long curiosity was answered, and it was better than anything he had tried to imagine. 

The vibrations had you involuntarily arching into his face. He wasted no time to begin lapping at your folds, swirling his tongue wherever he could. But when he finally wrapped his lips around your clit, stars exploded behind your eyelids as you squeezed your eyes shut. 

“Fuck…” was shouted towards the ceiling, and it encouraged him even more as he sucked even harder on your clit as one of his fingers circled your entrance. One of your hands shot down to his hair, tangling your fingers in his curls to hold him in place. His tongue was swirling around your clit now and the finger that had been teasing you slowly entered. Immediately your walls clenched around him, relishing the friction and slight stretch it brought you. 

Josh continued to pump and curl his finger inside you as he spoiled your clit with his tongue. He was so hard that his pants were nearly suffocating him, but he ignored it in favor of giving you all of his attention. A second finger joined the first inside you, and he curled them upwards to hit that spot inside you that had your fingers nearly pulling out his hair and grinding against his face. He could feel the muscles in your thighs tense and strain against his ears. You kept trying to close your legs completely around him, but he used his other hand to anchor you down and keep you spread so he could reach you properly. 

The spring inside you was coiling tighter and tighter, each drag of his fingertips and swipe of his tongue sent you hurtling closer and closer to the edge. 

You were past the point of moaning and could only muster pitiful whines and whimpers. You were so fucking close,  and clinging to his fingers so tightly that he could barely move them. He flattened his tongue against your clit, letting your hips grind and chase your high against him for a few seconds before closing his lips around it once more and sucked on it harshly as you shouted his name. His fingers and mouth worked you through it, letting you ride it out and prolong it as best he could. When your clit became too sensitive he peppered kisses along your thighs again, continuing to pump his fingers slower and slower until he was sure he had felt the last twitch and aftershock of your orgasm. 

He carefully pulled his fingers from you and immediately brought them to his mouth, savoring your taste while cleaning himself off. You used this moment to pull your hand from his hair and down to his cheek, tilting his gaze to you as you propped yourself up on your other elbow. The moonlight caught the shine of your arousal mixed with the matted facial hair. 

Josh quickly sat up on his knees to work at his belt, impatiently sliding off the bed for a moment to fully pull his pants down his legs and off his feet. He was left in his tight boxers, leaving nothing to the imagination as his length pulsed under the fabric. 

Now, it was your turn to crawl over to him, your mouth watering as your eyes traveled down his torso and followed his happy trail to the band of his boxers. You reached up and curled your fingers around the elastic, peeling the final layer of clothing down his thighs and let them pool around his ankles. 

Your eyes were on his cock now, marveling at just how thick it was. Tentatively you reached your hand up to wrap your fingers around it. The feeling of it twitch slightly against your palm sent a shot of arousal through your body. 

He stood stock still at the edge of the bed, his entire body tensing as you touched and felt him. His lower lip was trapped between his teeth and he nearly drew blood when you bent forward and placed a soft kiss on the head. But it was when your lips wrapped around him and your hand slid to the base that his head rolled back on his shoulders and your name escaped his lips. 

A drop of pre-cum landed on your tongue and you wanted nothing more to keep going until he was a whiny mess, shuddering under your touch. 

All too soon his hips backed away from you, pulling his cock from your mouth as you looked up at his almost apologetic eyes. 

“If you keep doing that…”

“But I wanted to keep doing that,” you nearly whined up at him. 

He closed his eyes for a second and breathed through his nose, trying to calm himself down. 

He looked down at you, dark eyes swimming in desire, “but there’s so much more I want to do with you first…” 

He kicked the boxers fully off his feet before kneeling over you on the bed again, flattening you back against your pillows as your legs spread to allow his hips to settle against yours. Briefly his cock was trapped between you, and the feeling of it radiating heat against your skin made you anticipate the next move even more. He captured your lips with his as one of his hands reached down to grip himself, running the head of his cock through your folds and allowing your arousal to coat him before he positioned himself at your entrance. 

You took his bottom lip between your teeth and angled your hips towards him, desperate to finally feel him. 

Slowly he pushed forward, trying to pace himself so this night wouldn’t end embarrassingly fast. 

The way he stretched you as he pushed all the way in had you seeing stars. You felt so full in the best way, like he was made for you. 

“S-so tight…” he hissed as he fully sheathed himself inside you, his pelvic bone resting on your clit. 

Your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips to keep him in place, wanting him as close to you as possible. 

The two of you remained still, getting used to the feeling of one another before Josh’s own needs started to creep up on him. He pulled back out slightly, before pushing back in. He buried his face into the crook of your neck as he began to move, kissing your neck and throat as you mewled at the stretch and drag of his cock. One arm of his framed your head while the other slid underneath you to grip your ass. He tilted your hips this way so that his pelvis was grinding perfectly against your clit as he built up speed. 

Your nails dug until the skin of his shoulder blades as you tried to hold onto him. You were still so sensitive from your previous orgasm that your second one was quickly building up inside you. You locked your ankles at the small of his back while your hands reached for his face to crash your lips against his. 

At this point he was slamming into you, chasing not only his own high but yours. He needed to feel it. The euphoric squeeze around his fingers earlier wasn’t enough. He needed more. He needed to feel your entire body shudder and quake underneath him;  around him. The sound of your bodies colliding with each other was driving him insane. 

The hand that had been gripping your ass slid around your hip and snaked between you and his fingers pinched and rolled your clit expertly, making your second orgasm his only priority. 

Your back arched at the contact the combined friction of his thick cock and his fingers had you flying off the edge, clamping down around him as you shouted his name again into the air. 

“God..fuck…sh-,” expletives tumbled from his mouth as he felt you shake from your orgasm. He tried to hold back but his cock twitched inside you and he bottomed out one last time as his release coated your walls. He tried his best to keep working you through yours, using every synapse in his brain to ignore his own heightened sensitivity. 

Eventually, you both came down from your highs and your bodies relaxed against each other and the bed. Your eyes fluttered open to find him staring at you, his face soft like it had been when he had first looked at your body fully. His lips were parted in awe, and you brushed your thumb across them. 

“That…should’ve happened a long time ago…” he confessed trying to catch his breath. 

“Agreed.”

His mouth formed a smile and his eyes twinkled, “but hey…this time I really did go upstairs with a girl and hooked up with her…”

“Josh!” Your eyes widened and you playfully pushed his shoulder. He laughed into a kiss before turning to look at the door on the far wall of your room. 

“Bathroom, right?”

You nodded with a smile and he slowly pulled out of you, hissing at the sensitivity and the cold air hitting his cock. He beelined for the door and you heard water running briefly before he returned with a thankfully warm washcloth to clean the both of you up. He discarded it into the hamper before crawling back into bed with you, gathering your body in his arms under the covers. 

The way his breath washed over your neck was so comforting and warm that sleep quickly overtook you and you drifted off while you felt his lips brush your skin. 

The next morning, sunlight streamed into your room. Josh was the first to pry his eyes open, and in the silence he took in just how much of a time capsule your room was. The same posters were on your walls, a couple film posters he had given you himself. An obsolete iHome sat on the top of your dresser, surrounded by a collection of jewelry and trinkets that looked familiar to him. 

You stirred in his arms, and he rasped in your ear, “Mmm…morning, lover.” 

The endearment sent a jolt of adrenaline through you and your eyes shot open. It was real. He was really in your bed, his strong arms holding you as those beautiful eyes looked at you in reverence. Your heart was stuttering in your chest. 

“Morning…” you replied, forefinger and thumb capturing his chin and pulling him down for a slow kiss. 

For a while the two of you just cuddled in silence, before a buzz from Josh’s pants pocket on the floor alerted him to a text. Reluctantly, he reached down towards the floor to fish his phone out of the pocket. His notifications were a bunch of texts from his brothers asking for his whereabouts and when he was going to grace them with his presence again. Quickly he typed out a few responses, not fully giving away how his night ended up but letting them know he wasn’t lying in a ditch somewhere. 

He sighed as he placed his phone on your nightstand. 

“I’m being summoned…”

You felt a pang in your heart, the other reality of him eventually leaving hitting you. 

He felt you tense in his arms and his brows furrowed, “what’s wrong?” 

You turned to face him fully, not wanting to sound needy or clingy, but not knowing how else to put it, “I just…I don’t want you to go…” 

“You can come with me if you want! I’m sure my mom would love to see you and Jake-”

You cut him off, “right but…what happens after that?” 

He looked confused, “what do you mean?” 

You wanted the earth to open up and swallow you at this point, but you needed to know, “what does this mean…?” 

Realization formed on his face as he connected the dots, then shyness crept over his features, “what do you want it to mean?”

“We can’t just go back to being friends now…I can’t pretend that this never happened and-.” your chin wobbled a little as you tried to explain yourself, trying to keep your emotions at bay, but remembering how he had literally just called you lover made it impossible. 

“I don’t think we can go back to being just friends either…” he started. You started to panic  before he continued, “and I don’t have it in me to even try to pretend this never happened. I can’t go back to being a stranger, or just some guy you went to school with.”

“You were never just some guy, Josh…”

He rolled over you, hovering his face above yours, “then maybe…we can see how this goes…?”

You bit your lip, “yeah?” 

He smiled, “yeah,” before slotting his lips over yours and giving you the most tender kiss so far. He relaxed on top of you, allowing himself to be wrapped up in your arms as you lazily made out together as the sun slipped behind some clouds and it began snowing again. 

Eventually you made it out of bed to shower and get dressed. As Josh donned his outfit from the night before, he couldn’t help but be a little smug at how it would be a dead giveaway to what he had been up to the previous night. But then he remembered who his brothers were. 

He looked up hastily as he tied his shoes, “I do have to warn you that my brothers are going to be really annoying about this, but just ignore it.” 

You placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “it’ll be fine, Josh.” 

He smiled and rose to his feet, kissing you again. 

Soon you were carefully making it down the snowy steps, trying to get to your car when Josh froze on the bottom step. You nearly collided with his back when you looked in the direction he was looking at and made direct eye contact with…your father. Your dad was standing on the covered porch, drinking a coffee. 

Well fuck. 

Josh and your dad seemed to be in a weird staring contest, silently communicating with each other. 

You stepped around Josh, hitting your key fob to unlock your car. 

“Not exactly what I had in mind when I told you you were always welcome at my house, Josh…” 

Your face flushed with embarrassment, “oh my god, Dad…” 

Quickly you and Josh bolted to your car, but not before Josh gave a toothy grin and wave at your dad, exclaiming, “nice to see you!” before shutting his door. 

You gave him a look as you clicked your seatbelt and started the car. 

He threw his hands up. grinning, “what? It could’ve been worse.” 

But as you pulled out of your driveway, and pulled up to the first stop sign on the street, Josh reached over the console and took your hand, bringing your fingers to his lips and giving them a soft kiss. The embarrassment from earlier melted away as he gave you that look again.

Your cheeks betrayed you and splotched with red. Inwardly you figured you’d always do that when he looked at you like that, and the thought warmed you instead of bothering you this time. 

It wasn’t long before you pulled into Josh’s family driveway. The drive over had been pure muscle memory and comfortable silence between the two of you. 

But as you got out of your car, you were met with the all too familiar voice of his youngest brother, Sam. 

“Oh my fucking god, I knew it!” He yelled from the top of the driveway. 

“Shut up, Sam,” Josh warned as he rounded the car to you and took your hand.

“Shut up, Sam,” the younger brother mocked right back at him, laughing his signature laugh. 

But for once, the holidays didn’t seem as daunting now that you had your best friend, Josh, back at your side. 

Fin

Tag List:  @dannyandthekiszkas , @readyforthegarden , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema, @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal , @myownparadise96 , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmelbourne, @twistedmelodies , @that-witchy-pan , @gold-mines-melting , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface , @childinthegardenn , @char289 , @stardustvanfleet , @sunfl0wer-power , @holdingup-fallingsky , @bladenotblaze , @gretavanlace , @lipstickitty , @jjwasneverhere , @josiee-gvf , @peaceloveunitygvf , @musicislove3389 , @gretavanhockey , @gretavanazula

[tragicallybeautiful97]

Just For Summer - Steve Harrington x Reader

Steve Harrington x reader. Camp Counsellors AU. `lovers x enemies x lovers again. Pining, so much pining. Sexual tension. Stranger Things AU. Multi-chapter story. Eventual smut.

word count: 2,055

Chapter One

Camp Lake Haven was one of my favourite places in the whole world. 

I first got sent to Camp Lake Haven when I fourteen years old - I remember feeling like I was in a vintage horror film; like Friday the Thirteenth, with the various wooden cabins, the thick canopy of trees swishing in the wind and the sound of childish screams and splashes from the lake.

It was the first time that summer that I had felt excited. I had been cooped up the first week of summer - all my friends had gone on holiday with their families and I was left at home, forced to hear my parents fighting until the early hours of the night. My baby brother Will had managed to sleep through it, he always had the gift of sleeping like a baby, even now at the age of fourteen when most teenage boys laid awake like bats. 

It had been the best summer of my life - afternoons spent swimming in the lake, evenings huddled around the campfire making s'mores and listening to the camp counsellors' scary stories. Camp Lake Haven really was a haven, a haven where I could forget everything and just spend time being a teenager. A teenager whose biggest worry was who to sit by in the Mess Hall, what swimming costume to wear to the lake - not about her parents impending divorce. 

I loved Camp Lake Haven. 

It was that love that ensured that I signed up to Camp Lake Haven even as an adult - as a counsellor rather than camper for the first time. More specifically this year I had gotten the job of camp nurse. I had just finished a gruelling degree in paediatric nursing and despite having a job offer in the city; I had decided to spend one last summer in Camp Lake Haven. 

A final goodbye. 

I walked through the crickerty wooden gate; the familiar sense of excitement running through me as I glanced at the faded Camp Lake Haven sign. Even at twenty four years old I still had the urge to run directly into the lake that was peeking through the trees towards the end of the camp. 

I clutched at my rucksack as I made my way towards Cabin 11. I had been assigned it through email when I had signed up as the camp nurse. It was further back than the other cabins, probably to give the counsellors some privacy away from the prying eyes of the children. 

“Is that Y/N I see? Back from the big city?” A voice squeals from behind me. 

I turned around with a smile pulling at my lips; I would recognise that voice anywhere. 

Robin comes hurtling towards me, various bags wrapped around her outstretched arms. She crashes into me, her arms wrapping tightly around my shoulders as I narrowly avoid a cool box to the face. I hug her back tightly, laughing as she spins us both around. 

I had met Robin in my second year of Camp Lake Haven. We had become fast friends in a game of capture the flag. Both of us had been on our periods and wildly fighting off cramps. We had been in opposing teams and had stumbled across each other as we stomped angrily around the woods looking for that godforsaken flag. 

“This is so stupid.” Robin had grumbled when she had seen you, wrenching her green team bib over her head. 

I had huffed in agreement, taking my red bib off and tossing it to the floor angrily. 

“Wanna raid the mess hall and see if we can find some ice cream?” I had suggested. 

The rest was history. 

“Please tell me you are staying in cabin eleven too? I emailed Hopper to request he put us together.” Robin pouted pleadingly when we finally detached. 

“Aw I emailed him too!” I confessed. “Looks like the grump listened because I’m in cabin eleven thank god.” 

Hopper was the head camp counsellor at Camp Lake Haven. He was a large burly man who was a man of few words, in fact the most you normally got out of him was grunt and grimaces. However his heart was in the right place, he loved the camp and the kids who came every year, and he was kind enough to give you the role of Camp Nurse despite applying a week late. 

Robin led the way into the cabin, easy chatter falling between us. We grabbed the bunk closest to the window and I grabbed the top bunk by swinging my bag onto the mattress with some effort. Robin quickly claimed the bottom bed - it was an arrangement that worked every summer, Robin claimed that her fear of heights even included the top bunk. 

“Did Nancy sign up this summer too?” I asked as I took a seat on Robin’s bed as she unpacked. She always unpacked while I was more of a ‘live out of your bag and hope for the best’ girl. 

Robin froze slightly, her fingers tightening on her white t-shirt that had ‘STAFF’ written in bold red letters. Robin looked at you over her shoulder, her shaggy long hair falling over her eyes slightly. 

“She did…” She trailed off uncomfortably, “But I wish she hadn’t.” 

My brow furrowed in confusion before I noticed Robin was blinking rapidly to keep her tears at bay. 

“Oh Robin, not again;” I sighed heavily, “What the hell happened, last time I facetimed you things were great between you both.” 

Robin started flinging her clothes aggressively into the shared dresser beside the bunk beds, “We were fighting all the time…and she started to hang out with her ex, and I know they are just friends but it made me jealous and I couldn’t take it anymore.” 

“I’m so sorry Robin.” I apologised softly. 

Robin sighed and stopped cramming her swimming costumes into the top drawer so she could fling herself onto the bed next to me, “Not as sorry as I was when I saw they had both signed up for camp this year.” 

“Wait…both of them?” 

“Yeah, her and fucking Steve the hair Harrington.” 

My heart dropped at her words. I groaned myself, dread running through my veins as I buried my head in my hands. 

“Please tell me you did not just say Steve fucking Harrington.” 

“Oh shit, sorry girl I completely forg-” 

Robin stopped talking as the door to cabin eleven swung open. 

Talk about cosmic timing… 

Steve Harrington was striding through the door, a duffel bag hanging from his shoulder and a worn copy of Bernard Cornwell’s novel Sharpe. I knew it was that book because he read it every summer, ever since he was twelve. He was mid-laughter, his head hanging back and a devastatingly boyish smile on his lips. 

My heart betrayed me by accelerating, my skin thrumming as I listened to the beautiful sound. Steve had always had a great laugh, it was one of the first things I had noticed about him all those years ago, seven years ago to be precise. He had filled out over the years, muscles straining under his weathered vintage t-shirt as he readjusted his bag further up his arms. 

Robin froze beside me and I reluctantly tore my eyes away from Steve Harrington to see what was causing his raucous laughter. Nancy was walking behind him, dressed in a soft pink cardigan and flared jeans. Her hair had been curled to perfection and her lips shined with what I assumed was cherry lipgloss. 

“I swear to god it happened.” Nancy giggled ruefully before she came steaming to a holt, her eyes wide and she realised Robin and I were in the cabin staring back at them. 

Steve followed Nancy’s gaze, his eyes taking in the scene before him. His eyes flickered to Robin before they made their way over to me. His eyes widened slightly, his lips parting as he seemed to take a sharp inhale of breath. I immediately looked elsewhere, choosing to focus on the battered spine of his book instead of the mole that nestled in the corner of his lip. 

That used to be my favourite place to kiss. 

“Hi Y/N,” Nancy greeted hesitantly, her body almost curling in on herself with how uncomfortable she apparently was,  “Hi Robin.” her voice cracked slightly at Robin’s name. 

“Hi Nancy.” I greeted quietly as Robin nodded mutely beside me. 

Steve opened his mouth, his dark eyes earnest. He went to take a step forward and then seemed to collect himself. He rolled back on his heels, clearing his throat before a smirk took over his face. 

“Robin.” He nodded his greeting before his eyes zeroed in on me, “and Y/N…” he sniggered, “Wow they must really be scraping the barrel for camp counsellors this year.” 

I narrowed my eyes at him, “Clearly, I wouldn’t let you or your stupid hair near my kids with a bargepole.”

Steve had the nerve to look offended. His hair had always been long, however this year the soft brown strands coiled around his jaw in a fashionable mullet style. I knew his hair was soft, I had borrowed his shampoo the first year I had known him…and I’d made a habit of running my hands through it every chance I got. 

“If I recall correctly, you always liked it long Firecrack-.” He practically spat the nickname. 

“Don’t call me that.” I warned heatedly, taking a step forward. 

Steve cocked his head, his lips pouting mockingly, “Your fault for having red hair Firecracker.” 

My cheeks burned at the nickname. Steve and I knew exactly why he called me Firecracker, and it definitely wasn’t just because I had red hair. That nickname was once rewarded with a horde of butterflies in my stomach, now it only created roots of contemptment in my stomach.

Camp Lake Haven was one of my favourite places in the whole world. 

I first got sent to Camp Lake Haven when I fourteen years old - I remember feeling like I was in a vintage horror film; like Friday the Thirteenth, with the various wooden cabins, the thick canopy of trees swishing in the wind and the sound of childish screams and splashes from the lake. It was the first time that summer that I had felt excited. I had been cooped up the first week of summer - all my friends had gone on holiday with their families and I was left at home, forced to hear my parents fighting until the early hours of the night. My baby brother Max had managed to sleep through it, he always had the gift of sleeping like a baby, even now at the age of fourteen when most teenage boys laid awake like bats. 

It had been the best summer of my life - afternoons spent swimming in the lake, evenings huddled around the campfire making s'mores and listening to the camp counsellors' scary stories. Camp Lake Haven really was a haven, a haven where I could forget everything and just spend time being a teenager. A teenager whose biggest worry was who to sit by in the Mess Hall, what swimming costume to wear to the lake - not about her parents impending divorce. 

I loved Camp Lake Haven. 

It was that love that ensured that I signed up to Camp Lake Haven even as an adult - as a counsellor rather than camper for the first time. More specifically this year I had gotten the job of camp nurse. I had just finished a gruelling degree in paediatric nursing and despite having a job offer in the city; I had decided to spend one last summer in Camp Lake Haven. 

A final goodbye. 

I walked through the crickerty wooden gate; the familiar sense of excitement running through me as I glanced at the faded Camp Lake Haven sign. Even at twenty four years old I still had the urge to run directly into the lake that was peeking through the trees towards the end of the camp. 

I clutched at my rucksack as I made my way towards Cabin 11. I had been assigned it through email when I had signed up as the camp nurse. It was further back than the other cabins, probably to give the counsellors some privacy away from the prying eyes of the children. 

“Is that Y/N I see? Back from the big city?” A voice squeals from behind me. 

I turned around with a smile pulling at my lips; I would recognise that voice anywhere. 

Robin comes hurtling towards me, various bags wrapped around her outstretched arms. She crashes into me, her arms wrapping tightly around my shoulders as I narrowly avoid a cool box to the face. I hug her back tightly, laughing as she spins us both around. 

I had met Robin in my second year of Camp Lake Haven. We had become fast friends in a game of capture the flag. Both of us had been on our periods and wildly fighting off cramps. We had been in opposing teams and had stumbled across each other as we stomped angrily around the woods looking for that godforsaken flag. 

“This is so stupid.” Robin had grumbled when she had seen you, wrenching her green team bib over her head. 

I had huffed in agreement, taking my red bib off and tossing it to the floor angrily. 

“Wanna raid the mess hall and see if we can find some ice cream?” I had suggested. 

The rest was history. 

“Please tell me you are staying in cabin eleven too? I emailed Hopper to request he put us together.” Robin pouted pleadingly when we finally detached. 

“Aw I emailed him too!” I confessed. “Looks like the grump listened because I’m in cabin eleven thank god.” 

Hopper was the head camp counsellor at Camp Lake Haven. He was a large burly man who was a man of few words, in fact the most you normally got out of him was grunt and grimaces. However his heart was in the right place, he loved the camp and the kids who came every year, and he was kind enough to give you the role of Camp Nurse despite applying a week late. 

Robin led the way into the cabin, easy chatter falling between us. We grabbed the bunk closest to the window and I grabbed the top bunk by swinging my bag onto the mattress with some effort. Robin quickly claimed the bottom bed - it was an arrangement that worked every summer, Robin claimed that her fear of heights even included the top bunk. 

“Did Nancy sign up this summer too?” I asked as I took a seat on Robin’s bed as she unpacked. She always unpacked while I was more of a ‘live out of your bag and hope for the best’ girl. 

Robin froze slightly, her fingers tightening on her white t-shirt that had ‘STAFF’ written in bold red letters. Robin looked at you over her shoulder, her shaggy long hair falling over her eyes slightly. 

“She did…” She trailed off uncomfortably, “But I wish she hadn’t.” 

My brow furrowed in confusion before I noticed Robin was blinking rapidly to keep her tears at bay. 

“Oh Robin, not again;” I sighed heavily, “What the hell happened, last time I facetimed you things were great between you both.” 

Robin started flinging her clothes aggressively into the shared dresser beside the bunk beds, “We were fighting all the time…and she started to hang out with her ex, and I know they are just friends but it made me jealous and I couldn’t take it anymore.” 

“I’m so sorry Robin.” I apologised softly. 

Robin sighed and stopped cramming her swimming costumes into the top drawer so she could fling herself onto the bed next to me, “Not as sorry as I was when I saw they had both signed up for camp this year.” 

“Wait…both of them?” 

“Yeah, her and fucking Steve the hair Harrington.” 

My heart dropped at her words. I groaned myself, dread running through my veins as I buried my head in my hands. 

“Please tell me you did not just say Steve fucking Harrington.” 

“Oh shit, sorry girl I completely forg-” 

Robin stopped talking as the door to cabin eleven swung open. 

Talk about cosmic timing… 

Steve Harrington was striding through the door, a duffel bag hanging from his shoulder and a worn copy of Bernard Cornwell’s novel Sharpe. I knew it was that book because he read it every summer, ever since he was twelve. He was mid-laughter, his head hanging back and a devastatingly boyish smile on his lips. 

My heart betrayed me by accelerating, my skin thrumming as I listened to the beautiful sound. Steve had always had a great laugh, it was one of the first things I had noticed about him all those years ago, seven years ago to be precise. He had filled out over the years, muscles straining under his weathered vintage t-shirt as he readjusted his bag further up his arms. 

Robin froze beside me and I reluctantly tore my eyes away from Steve Harrington to see what was causing his raucous laughter. Nancy was walking behind him, dressed in a soft pink cardigan and flared jeans. Her hair had been curled to perfection and her lips shined with what I assumed was cherry lipgloss. 

“I swear to god it happened.” Nancy giggled ruefully before she came steaming to a holt, her eyes wide and she realised Robin and I were in the cabin staring back at them. 

Steve followed Nancy’s gaze, his eyes taking in the scene before him. His eyes flickered to Robin before they made their way over to me. His eyes widened slightly, his lips parting as he seemed to take a sharp inhale of breath. I immediately looked elsewhere, choosing to focus on the battered spine of his book instead of the mole that nestled in the corner of his lip. 

That used to be my favourite place to kiss. 

“Hi Y/N,” Nancy greeted hesitantly, her body almost curling in on herself with how uncomfortable she apparently was,  “Hi Robin.” her voice cracked slightly at Robin’s name. 

“Hi Nancy.” I greeted quietly as Robin nodded mutely beside me. 

Steve opened his mouth, his dark eyes earnest. He went to take a step forward and then seemed to collect himself. He rolled back on his heels, clearing his throat before a smirk took over his face. 

“Robin.” He nodded his greeting before his eyes zeroed in on me, “and Y/N…” he sniggered, “Wow they must really be scraping the barrel for camp counsellors this year.” 

I narrowed my eyes at him, “Clearly, I wouldn’t let you or your stupid hair near my kids with a bargepole.”

Steve had the nerve to look offended. His hair had always been long, however this year the soft brown strands coiled around his jaw in a fashionable mullet style.

I knew his hair was soft, I had borrowed his shampoo the first year I had known him…and I’d made a habit of running my hands through it every chance I got. 

“If I recall correctly, you always liked it long Firecrack-.” He practically spat the nickname. 

“Don’t call me that.” I warned heatedly, taking a step forward. 

Steve cocked his head, his lips pouting mockingly, “Your fault for having red hair Firecracker.” 

My cheeks burned at the nickname. Steve and I knew exactly why he called me Firecracker, and it definitely wasn’t just because I had red hair. That nickname was once rewarded with a horde of butterflies in my stomach, now it only created roots of contempt in my stomach. Contempt that Steve had now tainted another thing that had been ours that summer - another valuable thing that had obviously meant nothing to him. 

I turned away from Steve, no longer able to look at him. 

“I’m gonna check on Will, see what cabin he’s been assigned.” I said to Robin. I looked at her apologetically, the last thing I wanted to do was leave her in this uncomfortable situation with her ex-girlfriend, but Steve Harrington’s presence was suffocating and I needed to get far far away from him. 

“I’ll come with you.” Robin offered quickly; happy for a reason to escape. 

I nodded my goodbye at Nancy and walked past her to the front door, not before I shoved my shoulder into Steve’s ribs. It was juvenile but god, it felt good. 

Steve laughed, but it wasn’t the warm laughter that he had entered the cabin with, it was cold and condescending. 

“Bye Roomies!” He called cheerfully after us before I slammed the front door in his face. 

I stormed away from Cabin Eleven, Robin hot on my heels as my feet automatically led me towards the lake. It was still early and the kids wouldn’t arrive for another hour or two, including Will who had chosen to take the bus with his friends. However, Steve wouldn’t have known that so he had served as a perfect alibi to run away from the trainwreck that was happening in the cabin. 

“Wow,” Robin breathed out as we stood at the foot of the lake. “This is awful.” 

I nodded in agreement, “Does Hopper have a sick sense of humour or something putting us all under one roof.” 

I stared out at the large expanse of the lake, toeing a pebble in annoyance with my converse. It was a gorgeous day and the sun reflected on the lake, making the water almost appear like a mirror made of onyx.

The lake had always been my favourite place, my Mum would argue that it was because I was a Scorpio and it was in my blood being a water sign. Maybe she was right, but I could argue that it was because the air always felt hazy and warm surrounding the lake and after the long afternoons when it would finally glow pink with sunset, fireflies would run across the water like flecks of gold. 

I took a deep breath and turned to Robin, “Look,” I grabbed her hands in mine, my fingers tracing over her chipped black nail polish, “It’s just for the summer. We just have to get through the summer and then we never have to see them again.” 

Robin nodded in agreement, a sad smile on her lips, “We’ve got this. Just for the summer.” 

Part Two

[maximoffsgirl]

Bad Idea, Right?

summary: You haven't heard from her in a couple months, but one single phone call and you simply tripped and fell into her bed. You don't dare to tell anyone in who's sheets you are, but it was casual; can't two people reconnect? That might have been the biggest lie you've ever said.

warnings:  Dom!Wanda, Top!Wanda, Sub!Reader, Bottom!Reader, D/s dynamics, Wanda is older than R (No specific age is mentioned), Wanda is referred to be taller than R (no specific height), ex-lovers, second chance romance, nipple stimulation, hickies, fingering (R receiving), Objectification (R is called a 'fucktoy' once) , light choking, praise, degradation , please let me know if there's more

MEN AND MINORS DNI

author's note: English isn't my first language ;D and this is my first time writing smut, so please bear with me on both topics

words count: 6.924

not proofread!

listen to:

“Just turn it already!” you heard Kate’s yell, the sound echoing from what you assumed was the kitchen. You were barely paying attention, your legs lazily tangled around a plush pillow, body slumped back into the deep, inviting cushions of the comfortable couch that the Bishop's residence offered. It was a trap for the perfect slumber, one that you had fallen into many times.

Kate’s apartment had yet to disappoint when it came to comfort, a space that had been indirectly chosen as the go-to ‘stop’ for your group. Perhaps it was because you couldn’t remember actually sleeping after the drinks had already made themselves at home in your system, or maybe it was because the late-night conversations stretched on until dawn, coaxing your eyelids to close without a second thought.

But today, you were fucked up. It wasn’t merely your body that ached; it was the weight of the entire week pressing down on you, squeezing out any remnants of peace you might’ve found. And suddenly, nothing was working. The headache lingered stubbornly, a relentless throb that kept itself known even after the vodka mixed with passion fruit that sat half-finished on the coffee table. Somewhere between the walls, Kate, Yelena, and Peter were pouring drinks down their throats, their usual antics harmless—most of the time—and comfortingly familiar. Usually, you would be the one shaking their heads after each shot, attempting to intensify the warm feeling of the alcohol coursing through their veins. But tonight, you simply weren’t in the mood to join in.

You heard the third buzz of your phone somewhere between your legs, the pillow, and the couch, the possible content doing nothing to spark your curiosity. Lazily, you searched for your mobile, freezing instantly as the content finally revealed itself.

Upcoming call from Maximoff.

Your drunken instincts kicked in before you could fully process the situation; you quickly answered the call and adjusted your posture on the couch, a nervous habit you still hadn’t managed to shake off even after months apart.

“Y/N.”

You first heard a sigh, followed by your name, and suddenly, it felt strange, as if it wasn’t truly yours until she said it. Her voice was sharp, direct, and certain, just as it always was when she wanted something. You had to restrain yourself from sighing in response to her tone. Wanda had a knack for ensuring her undertone was unmistakable, her intentions loud and clear even through the silence that accompanied her words.

“Y/N?”

She repeated, this time as a question. No undertone, no sigh—just a hint of confusion that you could almost picture settling into her face, accompanied by that adorable frown and slight tilt of her head. The thought of it sent a wave of panic coursing through you, prompting you to abruptly end the call. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you tried to gather your thoughts. Suddenly, your mind was inundated with a flurry of notifications. You contemplated various responses: “Hey Wanda,” “Hi Wanda,”  “Sup,” mentally cursing yourself for the last one. You considered “What is it?”, “Are you okay?” ,“Fuck you.”, "Fuck me". But in the end, you settled for a simple “hi wanda,” knowing she hated whenever her name was written without capital letters.

You could feel your heartbeat on every inch of your body. Uncomfortably pulsing and almost burning as if to remind you of how much Wanda Maximoff still affected you - not that you needed one, her hold on you made itself known every night; when it was late enough to hear the breeze touching the tree leafs and you had your hand buried between your legs, your index finger drawing teasing circles on the wetness that you’ve found, and her name unconsciously escaping from your mouth. 

The exchanged messages had you sighing, your mind trapped into a haze that, even from afar, Wanda knew exactly how to get you in; rather it was on purpose or not. 

Throughout the months, your friends had been tortured by your thoughts. Your constant texts in the group chat, or never ending rants complaining about how much you missed your ex, had earned you a handful of complaints and curses enough to write a trilogy. They already knew by heart each and every protest you’d make about your past relationship. It was always about Wanda’s hugs, Wanda’s kiss, Wanda’s cooking, Wanda’s voice, Wanda’s hands, Wanda’s couch, Wanda’s - everything.. Kate wished out loud her desire to receive a nickel for every time she was obligated to hear that very same name, last name, and nickname come from your mouth.

The name, last name and nickname who was telling you to come over at that very moment. And yes, maybe you'd cursed every single member of her family over and over again, wished upon her future children an impossible ugliness —a thought you knew would never hold up, given that she looked like she’d been handpicked by God himself. But then again, by the time Wanda sended you a teasing picture, called you by a sweet pet name, and then topped it off with a simple, "I miss you" you did not have any power over your own being anymore.

Before you knew it, your phone was slipped into your small black purse, and you were making your way toward the inebriated group of friends. Kate, noticing the purse strap on your bare shoulder, looked at you with a drunk pout. “Where are you going?” she asked, her words slurring slightly as she grabbed your wrist.

“I’ve got a terrible migraine… thought I’d go home to rest a bit,” you replied, giving the girl a shy smile, trying your best to hide the real intentions behind that decision. Kate and the others launched into a half-hearted effort to convince you to stay, almost begging for you to spend a little more time with them and sleep at the Bishop’s residence. But their words barely registered. All you could hear was the soft echo of Wanda’s text—“make it 20” - you'd rather ignore the first part of the message for the sake of your underwear —burning insistently in your mind. With a quick kiss on each of their cheeks, you ducked out of their grasp and slipped out of the building, your steps quickening with each floor you passed.

You slid into the driver’s seat, pausing for a moment to consider what you were doing. Were you really wrecking all your plans with your best friends for that woman? yes. Was it honestly worth it to see Wanda after all these months apart? yes. Was it worth the actual migraine you’d probably end up with, giving in to something you already knew would end the same way? yes

Without reaching any real conclusions, your fingers moved on their own, starting the car's engine in one familiar motion. Wanda’s address blinked on the display—an unknown location, yet somehow instinctive. You didn’t think twice before following it, your heart pounding as you watched the traffic lights change colors.

You look at the building through your window. A what seemed to be a quiet place, with no more than four floors and a few balconies with flowers. You took a deep breath next, sending Wanda a text while waiting inside the comfort of your car.

With each step you took, your breathing grew heavier, almost labored, as if the weight of anticipation was the only thing your body could process. The strap of your bag, though light, now felt like it was searing into your skin, a reminder of what was waiting, or rather who was waiting for you. Your calves ached with each stride, an all-too-familiar burn that reminded you of the countless times Wanda had called you in the middle of the night, her voice always assertive with a sweet, demanding, urgent, undertone. Every nerve seemed attuned to the memory of those late-night rendezvous, your body tense with the knowledge of what lay ahead, and yet unable—unwilling—to stop.

And with a single turn, there she was. Her hair, now a rich, dark brunette - a contrast to the auburn color you’d always known - complimented her features like any other could, although, if you could be honest, you’d say that to any color on the rainbow’s entirety as long as it was on her. Her smirk, almost boor, sends shivers down your spine, reminding you of what you were getting yourself into with that simple look.

She stood there, her back casually pressed against the doorpost and body contoured by a single lay of fabric, a simple lace nightgown colored in a deep crimson tone, a piece of fabric that you had never seen before. It hugged all the curves of her body, leaving just enough to imagination but more than you could possibly handle right now. The image made a possessive, jealous, nature want to come out of your being. Although you did make yourself overcome the overwhelming urge to pull her into the room, out of any sight that was not your own; begrudge still lingered inside you, caused by her initiative of standing on the door like that, where anyone could see her wearing something so informal, so inviting.

Before you knew it, you found yourself standing in front of her, your eyes locked in a silent exchange for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. The air was thick with mutual tension, an unspoken energy crackling between you. In a swift motion, Wanda reached out and grasped the strap of your bag that clung to your shoulder, pulling you effortlessly into the apartment. The door clicked shut behind you, your body now pressed against the cold surface, an intense contrast to the hot kisses that were now displayed on your neck and collarbone. 

Wanda’s hands grabbed your purse, tossing it onto the familiar couch in the living room with a casual flick of her wrist. In an instant, her body was pressed against yours like second nature, a sense of urgency irradiating through both of your bodies. Her right hand now on your thigh, pushed you more against the door, her grip possessive as a growl left her lips at the outfit you chose.

“Why are you wearing pants?” She boldly complained. Saying it casually as if she had seen your face everyday for the past months. It was as if she hadn’t spent countless nights searching through her phone for memories of the two of you. If she were to count that, then she truly had seen your face every day, of every week, of every month you’ve been apart, but it’s not like she’d ever tell you that. So instead, Wanda pretended to act normal, a decision that made anger boil on your veins, but you opted on playing into her gaming, giving in to what she wanted. 

“It’s cold, I was at Kate’s” it was a simple explanation, but one that Wanda was all too familiar with, so she just nodded her head along with your words. Her hands now climbing the curves of your body and resting on your neck, fingers applying enough pressure so you know it’s there, but not enough to make you moan and beg. And she knows that. Wanda knows that if she applies a little more pressure on her fingers, you’ll be whining unwittingly, the sweet sound escaping your lips even before you could think of it. But she’d rather wait. Taking in your soft features, the ones that she was too tired of seeing just through the confines of her phone screen; never being able to touch, just remembering like some kind of torture.

With a single finger, she tilted your jaw up to meet her eyes. A frown grew on your face once she just stared at you, you wondered what thoughts were swirling behind that penetrating stare; hoping it was the same as yours. No movement was made aside from the gentle caress of her thumb on your chin, tender like a feather but as vital as her stare. She moved impossibly closer and you envelope her waist in your arms in a familiar and intuitive action, hands moving below the delicate fabric of her nightgown, gently moving to the curve of her bum to caress her back tenderly.

Her thumb then moved to your bottom lip, tugging it down gently before pinching your chin, a teasing movement that made you smile, just like it always did. Likewise, a smile took control of her features before she gently bent down, meeting your already parted lips with hers. 

Unlike you had thought, she kissed you slowly, tenderly, taking her time with your mouth as gently as she could, sliding her tongue through both of your lips, meeting yours with a small hum. Her breath mingled with yours, warm and inviting, filling you with a sense of belonging that had been missing for far too long. God, you've missed Wanda’s kiss

You tried to pull away, waiting to see her face, but she instantly pulled you back, murmuring a soft murmur of denial “Uh Uhm”. You had no recall if you spended the last seconds, minutes or hours kissing her like this, the next thing you noticed was the kiss turning even more heated with each passing seconds. Her lust showing not only on her lips but also in her hands, those that traveled relentlessly every inch of your body she could access.

Wanda tapped your thigh three times, quietly telling you to grab your legs around her. Which you gladly did, your arms now circling her shoulder the same way your legs tangled themselves around her midsection. She never once stopped kissing you, making her way through the unknown apartment to what you assumed - and not so secretly hoped - was her room.

Your assumption made itself true when she threw you in a soft bed, her hands quickly working to take off the pants she had complained about earlier, tossing them somewhere with a teasing smile. Her hands now turned to roughly grip your thighs, moving her body and fingers up towards you so that your back pressed against the headboard. 

“Don’t ruin it” you murmured once Wanda’s hands settled on your collarbone, your shirt trapped in her palm as she held onto it until her knuckles turned white. You heard a huff pass through her natural red lips - a consequence of the immeasurable time you spent kissing her - as she took your shirt off gently, an intense contrast to her idea of just ripping it up. 

Along with your bra, the rest of your clothes receive the same unknown destination of your pants with a casual toss. You pouted at her, hands on her waist to pull her closer in urgency, now hating the piece of fabric that made shivers run down your body when you first saw it, taking it only as an annoying, irritating, barrier between both of your heated bodies.

“Don’t be a brat, Y/N” Wanda murmured, a low familiar tone which made you whine, recognizing what that meant even after the time apart. Your answer came with a quick shake of head, a defiance in your glare as to show you weren’t agreeing with her on that; at least not after the torturous months where you had only your fingers and an old vibrator hidden in the last drawer of your bedside table.

She sighed, galled at your reaction. To prove you wrong, her hands quickly parted your legs, pressing her knee against your center. In mock, she imitated your reaction, her lips parting open together with yours, a smirk on her face as she looked at you in amusement. Asking, without words, how long would you keep up the act she already knew all the words too.

"You have no idea how much I've missed you. Be a good girl, hm?" even if Wanda was asking, you knew better than to take that by anything other than a demand. So you weakly nod. Deciding on not fooling her, or you, anymore.

"Are you drunk?" she tenderly asks, her right hand angled perfectly on your breast as you felt the other pinning you down on the bed. You shook your head, the medium dose at Kate's house not being enough to inebriate you. Of alcohol? no. Of her? That's entirely different.

"Are you?" you asked, remembering vaguely of the bottle of liquor sitting lonely at her center table you've had a glimpse while she dragged you to the room. Wanda denied with her hand, pinching your already erect nipple. A moan emitted from deep inside you as she roughly played with the already sore protruding part.

"Always so sensitive" She murmured, bent down to whisper in your ear, placing a soft kiss on the side of your face. "Did you miss me too, Y/N?"

How could I not?  The thought echoed in your mind, undeniable. But feeding her ego wasn't something you were looking for right now, her smirk already wide enough as it was. 

She chuckled dryly, biting on your earlobe "Ah, ah... you know how this works, baby. Answer me" Wanda replied to your weak nod. Her hand on your waist now moving dangerously down, squeezing your inner thigh.

"Yes. Yes, Wanda. I've missed you too" came your response, as weak as your nod. The woman smiled, revelling on that pleasurable look on your face. Her hands playing with the waistband of your already drenched underwear. A whine escaped from your lips once she perfectly placed her thumb on your clit through the wet spot of the fabric, a hot tongue now circling your nipples, making you arch your hips towards her.

You were all too familiar with Wanda's teasing. The way her light fingers would run through every single corner of your body, never applying pressure on where you want, but enough to send shivers down your body. She took her time, wondering how long it would take until you were completely, broken, desperate.

If you were familiar with her teasing, Wanda was familiar with your body, she knew every knot that made your eyes roll and legs twitch; she knew every word that would make your clit pulse just beneath her fingers.

“Still think this was a bad idea, Y/N?” she asked boldly, her voice low, taunting, with that teasing smirk that made you want to both kiss and slap her all at once. Not indulging her needs you nodded your head, your lips sealed, hiding the moan your body craved to let out. 

Wanda chuckled, moving your panties to the side as her index finger ran across your folds. She smiles at the sharky breath you let out, always loving to prove you wrong. “Hm… is that so, baby? Then why is this pussy dripping wet for me?” Before you knew it, her finger was inside the confines of your mouth, making you suck your own arousal off of it. “Are you going to deny that as well?”

You knew Wanda well enough to know that she didn’t expect an answer, at least not with your tongue circling her finger. Her other hand quickly worked to rip your underwear; her finger, now wet from your mouth, circling your neck, applying the pressure you were searching for since she dragged you into the apartment. She wanted to hear your complaint about the destroyed fabric, one that came as soon as you heard the noise. The first one of your underwear being ripped and the second one caused by the pop of her finger once she forced your sucking to come to a stop. “Wanda!” 

“If you’re going to complain I might have to stuff this pretty mouth with something other than my fingers” She challenged, as if you didn’t know this was exactly what she was looking for. “Is that what you want, Y/N?”

Wanda’s questions were all rhetoric, her teasing way of nudging you into that soft, hazy headspace she adored seeing you in. And, of course, you knew that, but you let her lead you there anyway. Revelling in the feeling just as much as she did. You felt the urge to respond, even if she wasn’t technically waiting for an answer. So you shook your head with conviction, your resolve melting under her gaze.

Wanda chuckled, spreading your legs as her fingers settled between them, one hand running through your folds, collecting the wetness at your entrance; and the other slowly circling your bundle of nerves, pinching it occasionally just so she could see you jump. You had no recall of the time she spent toying with your body, but her lips had a smile into it as her gaze burned on your pink folds, your wetness now on your inner thighs, almost reaching her white bed sheets.

“Wanda” You called her, your voice a bare whisper as you whined, back arching towards her along with your waist that tried to reach her fingers to somewhere else other than your clit. Her bedsheets clinged into your body, getting messier with each movement, mimicking your hair. 

“Yes? What do you need, pretty girl?” Her words made you whine softly, your hands clutching at her nightgown with urgency. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, feeling the warmth of her presence before looking up at her with a pout, the need in your gaze unmistakable. Wanda smiled, bent down to whisper against your lips, her free hand tightening her grip around your neck. “Whiny, whiny girl… if I hadn’t missed you so much I would make you beg right now. Not tonight though”

At the relieved look on your face Wanda raised her eyebrow, her features unable to hide the amusement expression on her face. “Well, I won’t make you beg… but you’ve already forgotten your manners?”

“Please, Wanda… Please..please”

“Good girl”

You honestly couldn’t recall if you moaned due to her words or the two fingers finding their way inside your drenched cunt. But either way, your waist was moving desperately against her fingers as she curled them inside of you, finding that oh so sweet spot within seconds.

She played with  your clit with her free hand, not so gently toying with the already simulated bundle of nerves. Green orbs gently searched for all of your reactions, not daring to miss a single thing about your features, she has missed you enough to deprive herself from that by now.

“How many times did you touch yourself thinking about me, love?" 

A lot, and you both knew that. You couldn’t point one single time where her eyes weren’t inside your head while your fingers were inside your pussy. You’ve tried to mimic her movements; tried to picture the words she used to tell you. And, if you were honest, you only had an orgasm on your own because at least three of your thoughts were about her. Nothing was more arousing than Wanda Maximoff.

Although none of this escaped the confines of your head, it didn’t take a mind reader to know the reason behind your crimson cheeks and incessant whines.

“Poor baby… you’re so needy without me” - Her voice was sweet, sweet enough to be degrative as she looked at you. Eyebrows almost touching and lips pouting. A perfect look of faux sympathy. 

By the time Wanda increased her speed, you were already a mess. Legs twitching, eyes rolling back, back arching forward and arms searching for her. Wanda thought she would cum just from the sight, your pretty body so vulnerable, looking for her in despair, practically begging for anything she could think of giving you.

“You’re so wet… I can feel you squeezing my fingers, my love. Tell me, did you miss being my little slut?”

You’ve missed Wanda’s voice. Was the first thing you thought when the words met your ears. The second was a moan. A loud, desperate moan at her words. Unfortunately for you, moans weren’t enough for Wanda’s hunger now. So when no reply came from you abused pink lips, Wanda made sure that other parts of your body were pink too.

You swear you could cum right there once her palm roughly met your ass, and then your clitoris, and then your ass again. It’s not like you hadn’t been degraded, or praised, or spanked in this span of months. But how you’ve missed Wanda’s hands. After all, no one does it like a Maximoff. 

“Yes! Yes, Wanda, Yes! I’ve missed being your little slut. Please” You begged - cried. Words falling off your mouth like dominoes.

People say that to be loved is to be heard, and Wanda absolutely loved hearing you. The soft pleas and breathy whispers slipping from your lips as she decided what to do with you were music to her ears, each sound a reminder of the hold she still had over you, the confidence you had in her.

Others may say that to be loved is to be seen, which she couldn’t agree more, remembering the soft mornings were your legs were tangled around hers, your stable breath against her neck as she watched you sleep peacefully, insistent locks of hair blocking her view from your whole face as she let out a huff and gently pushed them aside, trying to savor every detail of those quiet moments, even through her memories. 

Whether love meant to be seen or heard, Wanda knew she would give every single sensation and feeling to you. She would See, Hear, Smell, Taste and especially Touch you for all her life. The intensity of her devotion now was almost laughable compared to her actions months ago.

But she’d give every part of herself to you, even if that was one of the parts of her that she always kept hidden, specially from you.

As she looked at you, she noticed your breathing becoming more labored, a series of soft whines escaping your lips. Your hips moved instinctively, seeking out her fingers. The ones that were already pounding inside of you fast and rough. 

“Oh. You’re gonna cum? I know baby.. I know” 

Wanda cooed, bending down so that her lips were almost touching yours. As you tried to kiss her, you felt the air being blocked from your throat as her hand found home there once again. Her voice sweetly founding your ears as she displayed marks just below your earlobe.

“Cum for me, Y/N. Show how much you’ve missed being my fucktoy”

If your trembling legs weren’t enough a sign to show her that your orgasm was close, the sound coming from your lips certainly got the job done. The feeling of her fingers trapped inside your stimulated walls and her sweet words on your eyes made you see stars even before you came undone beneath her.

“Oh.. Good girl. Uhum… just like that, honey”

Fortunately, or not, Wanda wouldn’t be stopping until your sixth orgasm under her tongue. Making you so overstimulated that just the bare feeling of her knee against your pussy had tears falling down on the side of your face. 

Whether it was the exhaustion of your overworked body or the steady rhythm of Wanda’s heartbeat beneath your head, you couldn’t tell. But you’d never felt such peace in your life. The warmth of her body against yours and your legs so perfectly tangled together made you wonder how you’d ever managed to sleep without this.

When the rays of sun managed to overcome the dense curtain in the room, enlightening everything it reached, Wanda was already awake. Her fingers light, as to not wake you up, tracing your features softly. Wanting to crave in her mind how your cheeks felt so soft beneath her fingertips, how you hummed in your sleep and unconsciously searched for her waist, pressing your bodies even closer. 

Wanda let out a soft, annoyed sigh as stray locks of your hair slipped across your face, obscuring her view. Carefully, she brushed them back behind your ear, her fingertips lingering just a moment longer than necessary. She gazed at you with a tenderness so raw that, had you been awake to see it, you might have buried your face against her collarbone, overcome with emotion.

Reluctantly, Wanda forced herself to slip out of the bed, carefully breaking free of your intense grip, prying your arms from around her with care. She paused for a moment, looking down at you, and then carefully pulled the covers up to shield your goose-pimpled skin. Satisfied that you were tucked in, she quietly made her way to the bathroom, the soft sound of her steps barely breaking the silence.

Maybe it was the soft hum of the shower, the sunlight streaming directly onto your face, or the subtle emptiness beside you that stirred you awake. Your eyes fluttered open, landing on the closed bathroom door. You sighed, small whines of complaint slipping out as you forced your sore body, scanning the room for something to wear as your own clothes were in some corner still to be found.

Without a second thought, you padded over to Wanda’s closet, grabbing a pair of her cozy gray sweatpants. You slipped them on, feeling an instant relief as they shielded your bare legs from the chilly morning air—a warmth that, until now, had only been Wanda’s. Her hoodie was quickly on your body as you stretched yourself. 

Blindly making your way to the living room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings; a cozy apartment when compared to the fancy uptown building Wanda used to call home back in your days together. our eyes quickly found your purse, discarded in the corner of the couch. You reached for it, quickly pulling out our phone that, to your surprise, still had battery, the screen lighting up with a soft glow.

Upcoming call from ‘Alcohoes’

You playfully rolled your eyes, You threw yourself onto the couch, the cushions welcoming your tired body - how you’ve missed Wanda’s couch - as you accepted the call from your friend group. 

“Do you guys really need to friend-group call me?” You complained as soon as you got the call. 

Wanda stepped out of the shower, her body now relaxed and enlaced around another nightgown. She frowned once she noticed you were nowhere inside her room, But her answer quickly came as she heard your voice coming from the living room.

Wanda stepped out of the shower, steam still lingering in the air as she wrapped herself in a fresh nightgown, the fabric clinging to her skin. She frowned when she noticed you weren’t in the room, unsuccessfully searching the room for any sight of you that were not your clothes discharged near her bedside table. A quiet frustration bubbled up inside her, but it didn’t take long for her to get an answer.

Your voice floated in from the living room, carrying faintly through the apartment, a sound that instantly pulled her attention away from the emptiness of her room.

She arrived just in time to catch the tail end of your conversation, a faint smirk tugging at her lips as she watched you say your goodbyes. Without a word, she approached quietly, her steps soft against the floor. The moment you ended the call, her body settled over yours, her warmth pressing you into the couch, her weight a familiar comfort. Wanda's smile grew as she leaned in, her face inches from yours as her body pressed you against the couch. 

“So you’re lying to your friends now?” - She teased, kissing you jawline before taking your phone from you, tossing it as carefully as she could on the other side of the couch. 

“I’m not lying. I told them I was asleep. It’s the truth” you murmured back, a smirk on your face as you caress her skin with the tip of your fingers. Wanda thought for a moment, her index finger running up and down your jawline before she whispered “But you never said where” 

“Do you want me to tell my friends whose sheets I’m in, Wanda? Are you going to tell yours?” You challenged, eyebrows rising as you features that Wanda had adored for hours showed an amusement expression. 

“Touché, pretty girl. Let’s fetch you some breakfast. Shall we?” She grinned playfully, slipping her hand into yours and giving it a gentle tug, leading you toward the kitchen, her fingers laced with yours felt sending a pleasant warmth up your arm as she moved with purpose. 

As Wanda moved through the kitchen, rummaging through cabinets and gathering ingredients, you hopped up onto the countertop, letting your legs swing back and forth as you watched her. She was only a few steps away, her expression so focused and casual, that made your heart ache.

The sight of her like this felt so intimate that it hurted. Even now, with her close enough to reach out and touch, you couldn’t shake the longing that clung to you, a reminder of the distance you'd crossed to be here.

Wanda chuckled softly when she spotted you perched on the countertop, a glint of amusement in her eyes as she approached, sliding effortlessly between your legs. Her hands found their way to your waist, grounding you as she looked up with a teasing smile.

“You know,” she murmured, her gaze flicking over to a nearby stool, “there’s a perfectly good seat right there.”

“Oh.. really? I didn’t realize” you smirk, faking surprised as you turned her head to where her gaze landed. “Brat,” Wanda murmured under her breath, a smirk ghosting on her lips as she took in the sight of you in her clothes—oversized and somehow fitting you perfectly at the same time. Her gaze lingered, softening as it traced over every familiar curve hidden under her sweater and sweats. She looked up, eyes meeting yours with that familiar glint.

“I’ll deal with you later,” she promised softly, squeezing your thighs over the gray sweatpants before turning back to the stove to begin making the pancakes. It was strange—how the months of silence between you hadn’t been addressed, how you were now sitting on her counter as if nothing had changed, nothing had been broken. The soft sounds of her moving around the kitchen, the rhythmic tapping of the spatula, the gentle hum of her presence, made everything else feel distant. You wanted to fight, to yell, to ask her why the hell it had taken so long to get here, but the way she moved, so calm and unbothered, made every word die in your throat. 

Breakfast didn’t take long to prepare. The scent of pancakes filled the air, a comfort you didn’t realize you missed. Before you knew it, Wanda was placing a plate in front of the stool behind you, the warm food topped with fresh strawberries and bananas. She sets both the chocolate and honey syrups next to the plates. Silently inviting you to sit on the stool instead. 

You did as she asked, hopping off the counter with a playful huff and making your way to the stool beside her. The moment you sat down, though, a frown tugged at your lips when you realized she wasn’t sitting right next to you. Instead, she moved to the counter to grab the fresh orange juice, her back to you as she opened one of the drawers near the sink. It was a small, almost insignificant action, but it hit you harder than you expected. The sight of her grabbing the strainer made something heavy settle in your chest.

You knew she remembered. You knew she knew how much you hated the foamy texture of freshly squeezed juice. She’d always done this for you—even if she complained, and teased and called you a child, - She’s always strained it every morning, without fail, just to make sure you didn’t have to deal with the foam. And now, seeing her do it again, it was almost too much. The ache in your chest flared, and for a moment, you felt that familiar, painful sense of longing. It was like nothing had changed, even though everything had.

With the juice in front of you and Wanda standing by your side, you murmured a soft "Thank you," your voice barely above a whisper. You took a bite of the pancakes, the sweetness of the strawberries and bananas mixing perfectly with the warm, fluffy texture of the pancakes. You savored every bite, the familiar taste pulling at something deep inside you. You’ve missed Wanda’s cooking. 

“Is it good?” She asked, looking at you with her face resting on her hand.

“It’s wonderful, Wands” You praised, the nickname making Wanda’s breath get lost in her throat as she had to pull herself together. “No one does it like a Maximoff”

“What?” she chuckled as she asked, her tone light but with an undercurrent of curiosity, her eyebrows slightly raised.

“It’s nothing.. It’s just a joke Kate and I used to say after she hooked up with Pietro”

This time, Wanda truly laughed, a genuine, unexpected sound that filled the air. The answer was nothing she had expected. She looks at you with a smile, her eyes wide, shocked yet amused to hear something like that.

“I honestly don’t think I want to hear how that happened”

A silence rested in the room for a moment. It wasn't comfortable, yet it wasn’t completely awkward either—just an unspoken understanding hanging in the air. The soft clink of utensils against plates was the only sound, punctuated by the occasional sip of juice. Both of you ate the rest of the pancakes, chewing slowly, as if the quiet was part of the meal itself. The light from the window cast a gentle glow across the table, making the moment feel oddly serene, even if the silence remained a little too thick.

You got up from your seat, gathering both plates in your hands, and headed to the sink to wash them, returning the favor since she'd cooked the meal. The warm water ran over your hands as you scrubbed, but you suddenly felt your body tense when Wanda’s arms slipped gently around your midsection from behind. Her chin found a comfortable resting spot on your shoulder, her presence soft and grounding - You’ve missed Wanda’s hugs.

Then, you felt the warmth of her lips as she placed a tender kiss on your neck, just where the edge of your hoodie left a small patch of skin exposed. It was a small, quiet moment, but it lingered, filling the air with something that felt unspoken yet deeply understood.

“I want to see you again” She murmured against your skin. biting on it gently as to indulge you in agreeing. 

“Wanda..” You warned, you face barely over a whisper as you sigh, your head falling to the side as you continue to wash a mug. Not really paying attention but refusing to fully give in to the woman. 

“I know.. I know” She sighs, tightening her grip. “But can’t two people reconnect?”

You closed your eyes tightly, feeling the weight of her words settle over you, each one resonating with an intensity that left you almost breathless. A heavy sigh escaped you, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady yourself, but the impact was undeniable. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, feeling the weight of silence say more than words could in that moment.

“It can be casual” she tried once again. Even if the phrase went against her beliefs, she'd do anything to make you agree, nothing mattered more in that moment than reaching you, convincing you. 

“Liar” It was all you managed to say. 

But you were right, and both of you knew it. The truth hung between you, undeniable and clear. You and Wanda were too intense to be just casual—there was too much fire, too much depth simmering beneath the surface. Every glance, every touch felt charged, as if holding back a force neither of you could ignore. There was no pretending, no easy way to make it something light. What you shared demanded more, something deeper, something that couldn’t be confined to the surface.

“Yeah. You’re right. I don’t want nothing casual when it comes to you”

You lazily dried your hands with the dishcloth she kept by the sink, your movements slow and almost reluctant. Turning around, still wrapped in her arms, you looked up at her, a hint of defeat in your eyes. Her gaze met yours, and you felt the weight of everything unsaid pressing between you.

“This is a bad idea” You whispered as you felt her warm hands cupping your cheeks. Her thumb sweetly caresses the skin just like she had done it the other night. 

"No... It'll be a bad idea if I continue to live without having you here," she murmured, her voice vulnerable and sweet, like you'd never heard it before. The softness in her tone caught you off guard, as if every word was wrapped in a quiet honesty, the kind that made her seem more fragile than you’d ever imagined. Her eyes held yours with an intensity that spoke volumes, and for the first time, you saw a side of her that was completely unguarded, raw and full of longing.

So you nodded your head, a quiet agreement settling in your chest. The thought of not having her, of continuing on and only ever complaining about how you didn't have her, seemed almost unbearable now. 

Because just like your friends have heard countless times. You’ve missed Wanda’s hands, Wanda’s kisses, Wanda’s hugs, Wanda’s couch, Wanda’s cooking,. You missed Wanda in her entirety. You wanted to hear, to feel, to taste, to touch, to look at her everyday. 

And if this was a bad idea, you’d rather see the movie all over again, even if the ending ached too much. It was better than not having her at all. It was enough.

✄╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌

thanks for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it💌

masterlist

[strwberryblast]

Second Chance (Suna x Fem!Reader)

•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•••·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•••·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·••

As the gym emptied around him, Suna stood by the side of the court, fingers curling and uncurling around the volleyball he hadn’t let go of. The last echoes of the game still lingered in the air, the shrill of whistles, the soft thud of sneakers on the floor, the quiet murmurs of teammates packing away their bags. But Suna wasn’t listening to any of it. His gaze was fixed on the bleachers, where you sat, your laugh echoing across the gym.

You.

Your presence was like an ache he couldn’t shake, a pain that had taken root in him long before it all fell apart. It wasn’t that he wanted you to see him—not exactly. But just knowing you were there, that you were close enough to feel your warmth even without speaking, made his chest tighten in a way that was almost unbearable.

It had been months since you two broke up. Months since he had pushed you away, afraid of how deep his feelings ran. He thought he could handle it—that he could walk away without looking back, without feeling that gnawing regret. But here he was, still stuck in the same cycle, pretending to be indifferent when all he really wanted was to fix everything, to make it right again.

His fingers twitched around the ball. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. In fact, that’s what scared him the most—that the care was still there, that he missed you more than he was willing to admit.

A part of him told him to walk over to you. To close the distance that had grown between you two over the past few months, to apologize for everything he’d failed to say. But another part—one far stronger—told him to stay where he was. Don’t make a scene. Don’t show weakness. You don’t need to know.

He thought, You’re not ready, not yet.

His breath caught as he glanced at you again, watching you laugh with your friends. You weren’t looking at him, not even once.

His eyes flickered to his teammates, gathering their things, as if they could distract him from the sight of you. But it was useless. He’d seen the way you used to smile at him, the way your eyes lit up when you teased him after practice. The way you used to talk about everything that made you happy, and how he’d just listen, trying to hold on to those moments like they were the only real things in his life.

But now… now everything was different.

He knew he’d messed it all up. But what could he do? What could he possibly say to fix the mess he’d made?

His hand gripped the volleyball harder, the pressure building, until it was almost painful. Why couldn’t he just walk up to you? Why did it feel like every step would be impossible?

The gym was quiet now, save for the rustling of bags being zipped, shoes slapping against the floor as everyone filed out.

And then, for just a second, your eyes met his.

It was brief, like a fleeting moment in time that could easily be ignored, but Suna’s heart skipped a beat. Your gaze held his, just long enough to make the silence between you two feel unbearable.

You didn’t smile. You didn’t say anything. But your eyes… they said enough.

The realization hit him with the force of a wave. He missed you. He missed everything about you—your laugh, your teasing, the way you always made him feel like he mattered, even when he didn’t deserve it.

But what could he do? What could he say after everything he’d put you through?

His fingers still clutched the ball as he turned, walking away from the court, leaving the gym behind. His chest was tight, his head swirling with thoughts he couldn’t make sense of.

Maybe it wasn’t too late, he thought. Maybe you’d hear him out if he tried. But then again, maybe it was.

Maybe he wasn’t ready to face you yet.

—----

Suna lied in his bed, his phone hovered over his face, the light illuminating his dark room. He was looking at your guys messages from the day you broke up.

He taps the screen, staring at the conversation that’s been a constant presence on his phone. He’s gone through it so many times that he knows the words by heart, but it doesn’t stop him from scrolling through again. The little bubble with your name in it seems to glow on his screen, like a beacon of something he can’t quite touch. Something he misses.

He bites his lip, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. Part of him wonders if he’s crazy for even thinking of sending another message. The messages have stopped coming from your end, and the silence is deafening.

[Name] <3 Did you do the homework boo? I completely forgot!!

He laughed, you always forgot to do your homework, no matter how much you’d say you’d remember. He missed that nickname, he missed being your boo.

Suna You forgot again LMFAO? Alsooo no I never do, you know that silly.

[Name] <3 I’m serious though, I can’t even remember what subject it’s for. I’m doomed!!

He runs a hand through his hair. He can almost hear the playful, exaggerated desperation in your voice as you’d say that. He knows you, knows how you’d freak out over the smallest things, even though you always managed to figure it out in the end.

Suna You always forget, it’s honestly impressive. Just wing it like I do.

[Name] <3

If I wing it like you, I’ll be failing every class by the end of the semester!

Suna It’s a strategy. Also, boo, don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll pull it off—just like you always do.

That one always got a smile from you, didn’t it? The way you’d joke back, saying, "Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that."

Suna lingers on this message for a moment. He knows that’s how it used to go. You’d always reply, always play along. The back-and-forth never stopped.

But now… now it’s just silence. The message sits on the screen, and he knows there won’t be a response this time.

Suna types out another message, staring at the words before he deletes them. His heart races a little as he hesitates.

Suna I miss you, you know.

He stops himself right before pressing send. What if it’s too much? What if you don’t want to hear from him anymore? The silence on your end is loud, like a reminder that things aren’t the same anymore. That there’s too much distance between them now, no matter how much he wants to close that gap.

He takes a deep breath and presses delete.

The message stays unsent. He wonders if you still think about him. If, by some chance, you miss him too.

A long pause. The silence stretches across the screen like an echo.

Suna Take care of yourself, [Name].

He’s about to turn off his phone when he notices something odd. A red exclamation point next to the message he just sent. His heart drops into his stomach. He blinks, unsure for a moment, but his fingers tap on the screen again, looking closer. He’s blocked. His stomach twists.

He tries again.

Suna Hey, I’m sorry. I don’t know if you still want to talk to me, but I just… I miss you. I miss us. Please, just talk to me.

The same red exclamation point appears. Blocked.

His thumb hovers again, his heart pounding, but it’s no use. Every message he types gets blocked. He stares at the screen, his chest tight, staring at the notification that won’t go away.

He exhales shakily and leans back, feeling the weight of the moment. He should’ve known, shouldn’t he? He should’ve figured it out before now. But part of him still thought there might be a chance, that maybe he’d get through to you, even just once.

But this is it.

Suna stares at the screen. The last message he can’t send. His last chance to say something that matters.

He turns off his phone, slumping back against his bed. He’d been staring at his phone for longer than he cared to admit, and now, all that’s left is the empty, painful feeling of knowing that he’s been blocked.

The silence stretches around him, and he finally lets his shoulders drop.

It’s over, he thinks. Just like that.

—--- You sat on your bed, your legs pulled up to your chest as you stared at the empty screen of your phone. It had been a few months since the breakup, but the ache still lingered, just as raw as the first night he walked away.

You let out a soft sigh, your fingers tracing the edge of your blanket. Your mind kept circling back to him, and it was like a broken record that you couldn’t turn off. You missed him. You missed him in a way that made your chest ache, made you feel a kind of hollow emptiness you didn’t know how to fill. The worst part was, you knew it was your fault for letting things go on this way. For letting him hurt you. But you also knew you couldn't just ignore it.

But… he broke up with me.

The thought hit you like a wave of cold water. He was the one who ended things. He was the one who walked away. And yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about how it had all used to be. About how much you’d taken for granted, the simple joy of being with him. The silly jokes. The late-night talks. The feeling that, even when life sucked, at least you had each other.

But it wasn’t enough, was it? He’d left, and that was final. That was how it went, how it always went. You break up, you heal, and eventually, you move on. At least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself.

Your fingers twitched as they hovered over the phone. You had blocked him the night it happened, right after the breakup. The very first night. You told yourself it was necessary. It was the only way to protect yourself from the flood of emotions you didn’t want to deal with. Blocking him felt like the only control you had left over the situation. It was a way to cut him out of your life, to give yourself space to breathe without the constant reminders of him popping up in your messages.

But even now, with the distance between you, you felt like you were suffocating.

I miss him, you thought again, clutching your phone tighter. I miss him so much. But… I’m the one who blocked him. I chose to do that. I need to stick with it. I need to move on.

The thought of unblocking him flickered in your mind. Just one peek. One simple look at his name. You knew you could do it, could undo the decision you made in the heat of the moment. The temptation was almost overwhelming.

But would it even change anything? Would it fix things? Would it make everything feel right again?

No, you told yourself, a small frown tugging at your lips. It wouldn’t fix anything. It’d just open everything back up. And I don’t think I can handle that again.

You buried your face in your hands for a moment, feeling the weight of the emotions you were trying so hard to suppress. The sadness, the guilt, the confusion, the lingering sense of love you didn’t know what to do with.

You wanted to scream, but the tears wouldn’t come. Instead, you let out a quiet breath, letting your hands fall to your sides as you looked at the ceiling, the faint sound of traffic outside barely reaching your ears.

The silence felt deafening.

You ran a hand through your hair, chewing on your lip as the familiar ache crept in again. He was the one who ended it. I need to remember that. He’s the one who left. I don’t need to miss him. I can’t.

Your heart clenched painfully at the thought of him, at the little things you used to take for granted—his laugh, the way his eyes would light up when he smiled, the way he always knew how to calm you even when you didn’t want to be calmed.

And it hurts.

It really hurts.

You looked back at your phone, your thumb hovering just above the screen. You thought about all the times you would’ve called him to tell him about your day, to laugh about something silly. Those moments felt like they were in another lifetime now, like something that never really belonged to you in the first place.

But now, it was just this ache. Just this gaping hole in your chest where something used to be.

I want to move on. I have to. It’s over. It was over the moment he said goodbye.

But even as you thought that, even as you tried to convince yourself to let go, a part of you whispered something different. Something that wanted to fix it. Something that wanted to reach out.

You took a deep breath, slowly sliding the phone into your pocket as though that might shield you from the emotions swirling inside. You have made your decision. Blocking him was the right choice.

Even though it didn’t feel like it.

—----

Suna walked into school that day, feeling the weight of the same old routine. The buzz of students in the hallway, the scrape of sneakers on the floor, the noise all around him… it didn’t faze him. He’d gotten used to it by now. But there was something about today that felt off, like there was a subtle shift in the air.

He stepped into the classroom and automatically glanced toward the back, his eyes scanning the seats, almost like it was a habit. His eyes landed on the one person he couldn’t seem to shake. You.

He always noticed you, even when he didn’t want to. It was easier when you were out of sight, when he didn’t have to deal with the tightness in his chest that seemed to come every time he saw you.

You were in the back of the room, doing your best to ignore him, just as you always did. He didn’t blame you for it. After all, he was the one who ended things. He’d messed up, and now he had to live with it.

He couldn’t stop looking at you, even though he told himself not to. The way you were sitting, looking so distant and small, it twisted something inside him. Why’d I have to be so stupid? The thought hit him hard, and he quickly forced his gaze away, pretending he hadn’t just felt that.

At least the seating arrangements helped. You weren’t sitting next to him anymore. It made things a little easier, or at least that’s what he tried to convince himself. There was a distance now, a space that felt almost too big, and yet it wasn’t big enough to get you out of his head. He hadn’t realized how often he’d been distracted by your presence, even just sitting there in the same room. Now that you were out of his immediate sight, it just made everything harder to deal with.

Suna tried to focus on the lesson, tried to keep his eyes forward and not let his mind wander. But he couldn’t ignore the pull to you, like some invisible string that kept drawing him in. Every now and then, he’d glance in your direction, but when your eyes weren’t meeting his, it felt like you were both in different worlds.

He couldn’t help the frustration that bubbled up when he saw you, so far away, so… unreachable. That was the problem, wasn’t it? He had walked away, and now it felt like you were too far to even try to fix things. It’s my fault. I should’ve said something. I should’ve tried harder.

The minutes ticked by slowly, and the noise of the classroom faded in and out of focus. His thoughts kept drifting back to you. What would you say if I just… talked to you? He wanted to ask that, but then what? The question lingered in his mind like a ghost, never finding its way out.

It didn’t help that the room was so quiet, save for the occasional rustling of papers and the soft scratch of pens on paper. But every now and then, he’d hear the sound of your breathing or the faintest sound of your pencil tapping against the desk. It made everything feel so… normal, like you hadn’t gone anywhere. Like you hadn’t been torn from his life so suddenly.

But you had.

And he was the one who made that happen.

The bell rang before he even realized it, and he blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. It was time to go. He stood up, reaching for his bag, and for a moment, he caught your eyes, just for the briefest second. It felt like everything around them froze, even if it was just for a heartbeat. But the moment passed as quickly as it came, and you quickly turned away.

Suna swallowed, trying to ignore the tightening feeling in his chest.

You hadn’t said anything to him, and he hadn’t expected you to. He wasn’t even sure if you ever would again. But seeing you like this, so far away from him… it was harder than he ever imagined it would be. He had blocked you out of his life because he thought it was for the best. But now, with the silence hanging between them, he wasn’t so sure.

He slung his bag over his shoulder and started to walk out of the classroom, his eyes lingering on you one last time. You weren’t looking anymore, but he couldn’t help but wonder if you still cared. If you missed him, too.

You probably hate me, he thought as he stepped into the hallway, the sound of students talking around him, but none of it registering. He just wanted to forget all the words he hadn’t said. The apologies, the things left unsaid.

But there was nothing he could do now, was there? He had let you go, and now he was left with nothing but the empty space between them.

Suna walked down the hallway, his thoughts a tangled mess of regret and frustration. Every step felt like it carried the weight of the decisions he’d made, and he couldn’t shake the image of you from his mind. Even now, after everything, he still couldn’t fully understand what had happened between you both.

He passed by groups of students chatting and laughing, their voices a blur in his ears. It was like everything was happening around him, but he was stuck in this bubble of self-inflicted pain. The emptiness he felt was palpable, and it gnawed at him. I should’ve just tried harder.

I should’ve talked to you.

He wanted to scream, to punch the nearest wall. Anything to release the tension building up inside of him. He knew he’d messed up, but how could he fix it? How could he even begin to make it right when everything between you two felt broken?

Suna paused for a second, leaning against a locker as he let out a deep breath. His hand ran through his messy hair, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. It had been months since the breakup, but the ache hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had only gotten worse.

The memory of the last time he saw you—the way your eyes had avoided his, the way you’d turned away like he wasn’t even there—it was burned into his mind. He’d walked away, yes, but you had too. The block on his phone felt like a wall, an undeniable signal that you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

But then there were moments like today, when he’d caught your eyes for just that split second in class, and it had felt like nothing had changed. Like maybe… maybe there was still something there. But I can’t just show up and fix things, can I?

Suna leaned his head against the locker, staring at the ground. He hated that it was his fault. He hated how easily he pushed you away. And now, all he wanted was to reach out, to say something—anything—that would let you know he regretted it all. But you’d blocked him. He had no way of even reaching you, and that hurt in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

But you won’t unblock me, he thought bitterly. And I deserve that.

The bell rang again, signaling the end of the passing period. He straightened up, forcing himself to move. As he walked toward his next class, his mind kept circling back to you.

The hallway cleared out, and he found himself outside the classroom door. His eyes wandered over to the door next to his, where you had just entered. You were in there, and he was just a room away, separated by nothing but walls and time.

If only it were that simple…

He walked into his classroom, feeling the same distance between you two, but this time it felt heavier. The silence was suffocating.

As he took his seat, he glanced toward the back, but you weren’t there. You’d gone into your own world, and he couldn’t blame you. He had given you no reason to stay. You’d been nothing but patient, caring, and understanding… while he had been selfish. He had been stupid.

The teacher began talking, but Suna wasn’t really paying attention. His eyes wandered again, his gaze falling on the spot where you usually sat. It was empty.

He was a fool.

And no matter how much he wished things were different, he couldn’t change what had happened. He couldn’t take back the harsh words, the cold distance, or the way he’d pushed you away.

But still, even now, even when he knew he had no right to hope, he couldn’t help but wonder if, maybe, just maybe, you were thinking about him too.

Would you ever forgive him? Would you ever open the door just a crack and let him back in? Would things ever be the same?

Probably not, he thought, clenching his fists. But I can’t let go. I can’t.

—---

Suna sat slumped in his seat, drumming his fingers absentmindedly against the desk. His eyes were unfocused, staring at the wood grain, but his mind was anywhere but here. This was so stupid. The way everything had spiraled out of control. The way he’d convinced himself he was fine, that it was the right decision. But now, months after the breakup, it felt like the weight of it was finally crashing down on him.

Why hadn’t he just talked to you? Why hadn’t he said anything instead of walking away with nothing but silence in the air? It didn’t make any sense. It was like a brick wall had been built between you both, one that he had put up, and now he was stuck on his side of it, unable to break through.

His fingers drummed faster, almost as if it could distract him from the gnawing feeling of regret eating at him. Why now? he thought, rubbing his temples. Why after all this time?

Was he really that in denial? Had he pushed it all away, pretending it didn’t matter? He’d kept telling himself that the distance was for the best, that moving on was the only way to stop thinking about you. But that didn’t make the ache in his chest go away. It didn’t make the little voice in his head stop wondering if you were thinking about him too, if you missed him the way he missed you.

Suna couldn’t help it—he was tired of this. Tired of pretending it didn’t hurt. But even now, after everything, he didn’t know how to fix it. Didn’t know how to reach out without feeling like an idiot.

The sound of the lunch bell ringing broke through his spiraling thoughts, and for a second, he blinked, coming back to reality. The chatter of students filled the room, their excitement cutting through the heavy silence that had settled in his chest. He sighed, pushing his chair back as the crowd started to move toward the door.

He stood up slowly, letting the noise of everyone else filter in, but his mind stayed on you. He wondered if you’d be in the cafeteria, if you’d see him at all. Would you even look his way? Or had you already moved on?

He couldn’t keep avoiding this. He couldn’t keep pretending he wasn’t thinking about you every damn second. His stomach twisted at the thought of you being out of his reach. And maybe, just maybe, this whole stupid act of trying to act unaffected was just a way to protect himself from the truth—that he still wanted you back. He still missed you.

But how could he fix what was already broken? How could he take back all the time they’d lost, the words that hadn’t been said?

Suna let out a breath, trying to shake off the thoughts as he joined the stream of students heading for the cafeteria. The door to the hallway swung open, and for a brief moment, his gaze flickered toward your direction—just a quick glance, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you’d be there.

But you weren’t.

The pang of disappointment hit him harder than expected, and his shoulders slumped. He had to remind himself—this wasn’t about you seeing him. This wasn’t about getting your attention anymore. It was about fixing what he had broken. Fixing himself first, before trying to fix anything between you.

But damn, it was hard.

The lunchroom was loud, crowded with voices and laughter, but he barely noticed any of it. His thoughts were still with you, stuck in the past, wondering if you were still somewhere thinking about him too. But I can't reach out. I'm blocked.

And with that, the walls he built up between you both came rushing back into his mind.

Suna sat down at the table with his usual group, a slumped posture, one elbow resting on the table while his fingers drummed absently. He was trying to pay attention, trying to pretend that the world wasn't spinning out of control around him. His friends—Osamu, Atsumu, and Aren—were all talking, but none of it registered. His thoughts kept circling back to you.

It had been months since the breakup, but that didn’t stop him from wondering why, how, he’d let it go so far. Why he hadn't just talked to you when things had started falling apart. But no. He had pushed you away. The distance had come and now… well, now he was left with a heavy silence and a heart that ached in all the wrong places.

Across the cafeteria, he spotted you. His stomach tightened. You were walking toward their table, and everything in his chest screamed to do something—anything—but he sat there, paralyzed.

You weren’t looking at him. No. You were heading straight for Atsumu, and the way you looked at him made Suna feel like he was invisible.

He tried not to notice the way your eyes sparkled when you saw Atsumu. How you made your way over to him with that casual grace, your presence drawing everyone’s attention as you slid into the seat across from him.

"Hey, Atsumu," you greeted, with a soft smile, as you dropped your tray on the table and sat down.

Atsumu, always the one to react to everything a little more than necessary, smirked as he leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “Well, well, look who decided to grace us with her presence today.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “What, you don’t miss me? I thought I was your favorite person to talk to during lunch.”

Atsumu threw a dramatic hand to his chest. “Of course you are. You’re the only one who can keep up with my level of awesomeness.” He leaned in further, clearly enjoying the attention. “But seriously, how’ve you been? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Suna could feel the tension building in his chest as he stared down at the table, his fingers still tapping, too fast now, like he couldn’t keep still. You were talking to Atsumu like everything was fine, like things were normal, but nothing was normal. And even though he hadn’t said anything to Atsumu about it—he didn’t need to—he could tell Atsumu noticed, too.

Suna could see his best friend’s gaze flicker over to him for a moment before quickly looking back at you. Atsumu wasn’t oblivious. He’d known about the breakup, and he was well aware that there was still tension in the air between Suna and you. It wasn’t something either of them had openly discussed yet. Atsumu, being the kind of guy who liked to keep things breezy, probably didn't want to bring it up outright. But Suna could feel the weight of it.

“Not much, just, you know, surviving.” You shrugged lightly, pushing your food around with your fork. “Been a bit busy with school and all.”

Suna’s chest tightened again. Surviving. That’s what you called it now. You weren’t living, you were surviving. And somehow, that hit harder than anything.

“I get that,” Atsumu replied with a grin, but there was something in his voice that wasn’t quite his usual teasing. He was softer now, like he was trying to read you. Suna, however, could see that it wasn’t just concern—it was something more. There was something in Atsumu’s eyes when he looked at you, something that Suna couldn’t quite pinpoint but definitely recognized.

Atsumu cleared his throat, trying to shift the focus away from the silence that hung between the three of them. “Yo, how’s that physics homework treating you? Got all those problems figured out or what?”

You smiled at the change in topic, clearly relieved by the distraction, but your eyes never left Atsumu’s as you replied. “Barely. But I think I’m getting there. You know how I like to figure it out on my own.”

Suna could see Atsumu’s eyes linger just a little too long on you before he smirked. “Well, if you want, I can give you a hand. I’m a genius when it comes to math.”

You chuckled, clearly amused. “Yeah, right. You always say that, and then you end up just confusing me more.”

Atsumu grinned back, but there was a softness there now, something Suna hadn’t seen from his friend before. Atsumu had always been outgoing, always eager to tease and flirt, but right now, he was giving you a look that was almost… sincere.

Suna’s stomach twisted, and he tried to ignore it. He didn’t know why he was feeling like this—why his chest felt so tight every time you smiled at Atsumu. He shouldn’t be jealous, shouldn’t be annoyed by it. He was the one who’d pushed you away.

But then you casually leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand as you smiled at Atsumu. “I’ll take my chances without your genius, thanks. I don’t need you giving me a headache on top of everything else.”

Atsumu threw his head back and laughed loudly. “Ouch, that hurt.” He put a hand to his chest like he was wounded, but the smile never left his face. It was the kind of look that Suna used to get—before he’d screwed everything up.

Suna glanced at his friends, but no one seemed to notice the way his gaze flickered back and forth between you and Atsumu. Osamu was lazily eating his lunch, Aren was on his phone, scrolling through something, but no one was noticing how the air around him had thickened with something unspoken.

And then, like a punch to the gut, Atsumu turned to him, giving him that slight knowing look. “Yo, Suna, you in this conversation or you just planning to stare at the wall today?”

Suna blinked, breaking his gaze from you and finally meeting Atsumu’s eyes. It was then he realized that Atsumu had noticed. He wasn’t blind, and neither was Suna. It was no secret that Atsumu had a thing for you, not that you noticed.

“Yeah,” Suna muttered, trying to sound casual, though his voice was thick with something he couldn’t place. “Just thinking.”

Atsumu raised an eyebrow but didn’t push the subject any further. He knew better than to prod when Suna was like this.

Instead, you spoke up again, your voice light and teasing, as if everything was fine. “You’re still gonna help me study next week, right?”

Atsumu grinned. “Of course. I’m always here for you.”

But Suna couldn’t help the bitter feeling that crawled up his throat as he heard those words. They were his. They were supposed to be his promises, his assurances. But now, they were nothing more than an echo in a room full of empty spaces.

He watched as you walked away, your back turned to him, a slight sway to your steps as if you were trying to avoid anyone noticing how much you didn’t want to be here. Maybe it was just out of boredom or the awkwardness that hung in the air, but either way, it was painfully clear you didn’t want to stick around. You had already decided you weren’t going to stay where you didn’t feel comfortable, and that place wasn’t with him anymore.

His gaze lingered on you, his chest tightening, unable to pull his eyes away. He missed you—so much. And even though he knew it was his fault, even though he knew this wasn’t something he could easily fix, it still hurt to watch you walk away like it was nothing. You didn’t even glance back, didn’t pause to acknowledge him, like you’d already let him go long before he ever had the courage to let you go.

Osamu smacked Atsumu on the back of the head, the sharp sound breaking Suna from his thoughts. Atsumu flinched and let out an exaggerated “Ow!” rubbing the spot where Osamu had hit him.

"Focus, Atsumu," Osamu scolded, not even looking up from his food. “Quit acting like a dog in heat around [Name].”

Suna didn’t react. He didn’t even look at them. His eyes remained fixed on the spot where you’d been standing, the seat now empty. The space around him felt cold, void of the usual banter, the easy comfort he once felt whenever you were near. Now it just felt… hollow.

He should’ve been better. Should’ve tried harder. He should've known that ignoring his own feelings, that pushing you away in the name of pride, was never going to work. And now it was too late.

Atsumu, still rubbing the back of his head, glanced over at Suna, probably noticing that he wasn’t paying attention. He let out a small sigh, and though his voice was casual, there was an edge of something in it. “Yo, you good, Suna?”

Suna barely blinked. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice almost flat, lacking any of the usual bite. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at Atsumu, not with the knot in his stomach, the jealousy gnawing at him in a way he didn’t want to admit.

Atsumu, oblivious to the internal turmoil Suna was trying to hide, just chuckled and nudged Osamu. “Suna’s fine. He’s just being moody.”

Osamu gave him a sideways look, but his gaze shifted back to Suna, who was still lost in his thoughts. "Maybe. Or maybe he’s still thinking about what happened. You know, with… you know, her."

Suna's chest tightened. Osamu’s words were like a physical blow. He knew it was inevitable that they’d have to talk about it at some point. Everyone knew what had happened, but the last thing he wanted right now was to talk about it—especially with Atsumu.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Suna muttered, pushing his chair back and standing up, feeling the need to get away from all of this.

Suna stared down at the table, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air. His thoughts were still tangled up in you, in everything that had happened, in the silence that had settled between the two of you since the breakup. He wasn’t sure why it was hitting him so hard now—months after the fact—but the absence of your presence had carved a hole that felt impossible to fill.

As if on cue, Osamu and Atsumu noticed the tension hanging in the air and decided to steer the conversation in a new direction.

“Hey, so, I’m having a party this weekend,” Osamu said casually, leaning back in his chair and flashing a knowing look at Atsumu. “You wanna come?”

Suna blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the shift in the conversation. A party. The distraction of a big, loud event. It was exactly what he needed. Maybe it would help him forget, even for just a few hours. He glanced up at his friends, still feeling that tightness in his chest.

He hadn’t realized just how suffocating the last few months had been until now. He’d buried himself in volleyball, in school, in all the little distractions life offered, but now, the weight of everything—especially you—was starting to break through. Maybe a big party would help him forget.

Suna let out a small sigh, rubbing the back of his neck before he nodded. “Yeah. I could use a break. Sounds like a good distraction.”

Atsumu, who had been waiting for this moment, grinned wide. “Hell yeah, man. It’s gonna be a big one. Lots of people. Don’t even think about bailing last minute. You need to get out of your head, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Suna said quietly, feeling the exhaustion in his bones. “I think I do.”

Osamu raised an eyebrow, giving him a quick once-over. “You sure about this? I’m not throwing some small get-together. It’s gonna be loud. A lot of people from school are coming. Some you might not wanna see.”

Suna’s eyes flicked to Osamu, his thoughts still swirling. He knew what he meant—people who might remind him of her, of you. You’d been his first love, his first girlfriend. The one who made him believe that maybe love wasn’t just some complicated thing he’d read about in books. You were his first everything, and losing you—walking away from each other, all of it—had been harder than he was willing to admit. The breakup had shaken him more than he ever thought it would, and now it felt like he was struggling to put the pieces back together.

He couldn’t keep hiding from it.

But the idea of being surrounded by people, of not having to face the silent gap between the two of you, was too tempting. A distraction, an escape—just for a while.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he said with a little more conviction than he felt. “I can handle it.”

Atsumu’s grin stretched even wider, clearly satisfied with the answer. “That’s the spirit! You’re gonna have a blast, man. You need it.”

Suna thought back to the last party he went to, which had been months ago before everything had unraveled between you two. The laughter, the music, the chaos—it all felt so distant now. And yet, here he was, agreeing to go to another one, hoping maybe the night would help him forget. Maybe just for a little bit.

“You’re bringing anyone?” Osamu asked, eyeing him closely.

Suna hesitated. The thought of showing up alone felt heavy, but he didn’t know who else to invite. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t there to make new memories with anyone. He just needed a change of scenery.

“Probably not,” Suna muttered, his voice betraying him with its uncertainty. “I don’t think I’ll bring anyone.”

“Alright,” Atsumu said, his voice teasing but understanding. “As long as you don’t stand in a corner and brood all night, we’re good.”

Suna gave a half-hearted chuckle, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. His gaze wandered again, his mind drifting back to you.

You—his first love. His first everything.

The thought of seeing you there, mingling with people, laughing with others… it wasn’t something he was ready for, not after everything. The idea of you moving on, of someone else getting to have the things that were once his—it made his chest tighten.

“Okay, well,” Osamu said, cutting through the silence that had fallen between them, “we’ll see you there, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Suna said softly, his mind far away. “I’ll be there.”

And as the conversation shifted back to other topics, Suna remained lost in his thoughts. The party, the music, the noise—none of it would drown out the questions that kept swirling in his mind. But maybe for a night, he could pretend. Pretend that he wasn’t still haunted by the ghost of his first love. Pretend that everything hadn’t come crashing down around him.

Maybe he could find some peace in the chaos.

He wasn’t sure yet. But he was going to try.

—-----

It was Saturday at 10 p.m., and Suna had just arrived at the party. The music thumped from the house as he walked up the driveway, the noise growing louder with each step. He could already feel the weight of the night pressing down on him, his thoughts still tangled in a mess of things he wasn’t ready to face.

Osamu had made sure Atsumu wouldn’t invite you. Out of respect, he’d said, or maybe it was just easier this way. Suna wasn’t sure which, but the fact that you weren’t here felt like a relief—and a burden all at once.

The house was already crowded. People were milling about, laughing, talking, a few clinking glasses together. A couple of familiar faces waved in his direction as he stepped inside, but Suna didn’t feel the usual ease he normally would in this kind of crowd. Tonight, it felt different. Tonight, the noise, the chatter, the flashing lights—all of it felt suffocating. It was almost too much.

He pushed through the crowd, trying to find his friends, trying to shake off the feeling that he didn’t belong here. The weight of everything was still there—heavy and unrelenting. The thought of you not being here, of you not being part of his life in the way you used to be, it hit him harder than he thought it would.

When he found Osamu and Atsumu, they were leaning against the kitchen counter, talking to a few other people, laughing about something Suna couldn’t quite hear over the noise. Atsumu caught sight of him first, grinning wide as he waved him over.

“Yo, Suna! You finally made it!” Atsumu called over the music, his voice excited.

Suna gave a small wave in return, trying to mask the weight in his chest. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“You good, man?” Osamu asked, raising an eyebrow, noticing the lack of enthusiasm in Suna’s expression.

Suna nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just… tired, I guess.”

Atsumu gave him a knowing look. “It’s all good, bro. It’ll loosen up once you’ve had a drink or two. Come on, let’s get you something.”

He grabbed Suna’s arm and led him toward the drink table, shoving a cup into his hand without asking if he wanted it. The familiar sting of alcohol as it slid down his throat made Suna grimace, but he didn’t care. He needed something to numb the ache that was sitting heavy in his chest, something to wash away the thoughts of you.

He glanced around the room again, half expecting to catch a glimpse of you. To see you laughing with friends, or just standing in the corner like you used to, smiling at him in that way that made his chest feel lighter.

But you weren’t here. You weren’t anywhere.

And that felt both like a relief and a stab to the heart.

Atsumu leaned closer, breaking Suna out of his spiral. “You’re looking at everyone like you’re waiting for someone, man.”

Suna shook his head quickly, not wanting to be caught. “No,” he muttered. “Just… thinking.”

Osamu raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharp. “About what?”

Suna shrugged, trying to play it off. “Nothing. It’s just… weird being here without her, you know?”

Atsumu’s expression softened for a second, before he grinned again. “Man, I know. But you gotta stop thinking about it. You’re here now. Just… enjoy yourself. Have a little fun.”

Suna let out a small laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Yeah. Fun."

He took another sip from the cup, the bitter taste doing little to dull the gnawing feeling that lingered in his chest. It was so hard, being here—surrounded by people, but feeling so alone. He couldn’t help but think about what could’ve been, what it used to be like when you were around.

Before everything fell apart.

Before he let his pride and fear destroy the one thing he truly cared about.

The music blared on, and Suna tried his best to push those thoughts down, to let the night wash over him like the drink in his hand. But deep down, he knew it wouldn’t be that simple. Nothing ever was.

Suna walked into the party, his mind a whirlwind of frustration. The last few months had been a mess, and he had no one to blame but himself. Sure, it was supposed to be a night to forget about everything, but his thoughts kept circling back to you.

The music was loud and filled the room, and people were laughing and shouting, but Suna couldn’t feel any of it. He was too stuck in his own head. He had messed up. He had been stupid. And the worst part was, he was still stupid. He still missed you. Every day, every hour, every minute.

And now, you weren’t even here. Osamu had made sure you weren’t invited to this party—out of respect, he’d said, because things were still too tense.

Suna found his way to the drink table, needing something to calm the chaos in his mind. He grabbed a beer, but it didn’t do anything to stop the ache in his chest.

“Yo, Suna!” Atsumu’s voice called from across the room. Suna blinked and turned, seeing Atsumu waving him over with a grin plastered on his face. Suna didn’t even feel like putting on a fake smile. He just walked over, glass in hand.

“You finally show up? Thought you were gonna sit this one out,” Atsumu teased, already clearly a little drunk. His eyes had that gleam to them, like he was expecting Suna to join in on the fun.

Suna grunted in acknowledgment, taking a long drink from his cup before speaking. “Needed a distraction.”

Atsumu gave him a curious glance, but shrugged. “Well, you’re in luck. Everyone’s out here living it up. No one’s got time for feelings tonight.” He gave a loud, exaggerated laugh.

Suna didn’t join in. The weight of you—of everything that had happened—sat on his chest. But he wasn’t about to spill that to Atsumu. Not here, not now.

Atsumu glanced around the room, then turned back to Suna. “I gotta admit, though, man,” he started, a grin spreading on his face. “You’re a hell of a lot quieter than usual tonight. Maybe because of her?”

Suna stiffened at the mention of you, but didn’t respond immediately. He took another sip of his drink, hoping to drown the knot in his throat.

Atsumu, noticing the silence, laughed again, but it was a little more knowing this time. “Yeah, I know, man. You and [Name]. That was… something, huh?”

Suna clenched his jaw, not wanting to open that door, but Atsumu didn’t seem to care. He was too drunk, too comfortable, and too eager to make his point.

“I get it, you know,” Atsumu continued, cocking an eyebrow at him. “You pushed her away. I was there. I saw it. You said you didn’t need her anymore. And now you’re all mopey about it.”

Suna’s stomach twisted at the words. He didn’t need to hear this. He already knew he messed up. He was already paying for it.

But Atsumu was still going, oblivious to the way Suna’s frustration was building. “Man, I don’t get why you’re acting like this now. You had your chance. And now, I’ve got my chance.”

Suna’s eyes snapped to Atsumu. “What are you talking about?”

Atsumu didn’t miss a beat. He leaned in closer, his grin widening. “You heard me. I always liked [Name], you know. Even when you were with her. I didn’t say anything because I respected you, man. But now? Well, I guess it’s my turn.”

Suna’s grip on his drink tightened, his knuckles going white. His heart raced, and anger began to rise in his chest. He wanted to say something, do something—anything—but the words were stuck in his throat.

“Stop it,” Suna finally spat, his voice low. “Don’t act like you have any right to do that. You were always in the background, Atsumu. You never cared about her the way I did.”

Atsumu raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed. “I think I care a hell of a lot more than you ever did. At least I don’t pretend to push her away when I don’t mean it. You ended it, man. You made your choice.”

Suna’s blood ran hot. “You don’t know anything about it.”

“I know more than you think,” Atsumu shot back, eyes narrowing. “You let her go. You made that choice. And I’m the one here that’s gonna make things right with her.”

Suna’s heart pounded, his hands shaking from the mixture of alcohol and anger. “Don’t you dare,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

But Atsumu didn’t seem to care about the warning. He crossed his arms and shrugged. “Too late. She’s already been talking to me. And honestly? You had your chance.”

Suna’s chest tightened, like someone had just pressed a hand over his heart. He wanted to yell, to scream, to get his point across, but everything felt like it was slipping away from him.

“You’re not going anywhere near her, Atsumu,” Suna said, his voice quiet now. His fingers dug into the edges of the cup, the plastic crumbling under the pressure. “She’s not some prize for you to win.”

Atsumu rolled his eyes and gave an exaggerated sigh. “Relax, man. I’m not gonna screw this up. You already did.”

Suna couldn’t take it anymore. The anger that had been bubbling under the surface exploded, and before he knew it, his fist was in the air, swinging toward Atsumu’s chest. It was a sloppy punch, the alcohol in his system making everything feel off, but it landed hard enough to make Atsumu stumble back, surprised.

“Hey!” Atsumu shouted, pushing Suna back with a shove. “What the hell, man?!”

Suna stood his ground, chest heaving with frustration, his pulse racing. “I don’t care if you think you’re in the right, Atsumu. You don’t get to just—”

“Don’t make this about me,” Atsumu cut him off, throwing a right hook at Suna harshly. “You broke up with her. You let her go. You can’t get mad at me for moving on.”

Suna steadied himself, still feeling the sting of the punch. His breath came out in uneven gasps, his body buzzing with adrenaline and alcohol. But he wasn’t done. Atsumu stood there too, just as messed up from the fight, but neither of them was ready to back down. The alcohol had blurred their thoughts, making it harder to tell where the line between play and anger was drawn.

“Get up,” Atsumu said, pushing Suna lightly, as if daring him to start another round.

Suna glared, wiping the blood off his lip with the back of his hand. He could barely focus, but the anger inside him was still burning. “You think you're tough? Let’s go again.”

Before Atsumu could say anything, Suna lunged, swinging at him again. Atsumu barely had time to react as Suna’s fist grazed the side of his cheek.

“I’m still standing, don’t think you’ve won yet!” Atsumu growled, throwing his own punch that landed squarely in Suna’s chest. The impact was enough to make Suna stumble back but not fall.

The two of them were laughing, though it wasn’t out of humor—it was frustration, raw and real. The sounds of their breathing, their slurred words, and their uncoordinated movements were a strange mix of intensity and play. They were both drunk, both angry, and both missing something—someone.

Suna gritted his teeth, still reeling from the punch, but he wouldn’t back down. “You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he slurred, smirking through his pain.

“Oh, trust me, I will,” Atsumu sneered, stepping forward. He was still a little unsteady on his feet, but the alcohol only made his confidence grow.

Suna darted forward again, this time more recklessly, throwing another punch at Atsumu’s side. Atsumu caught his wrist mid-swing, twisting it and forcing Suna to step back, but Suna gritted his teeth and shoved him off with a sharp push.

“Damn it, Suna, stop being so stubborn!” Atsumu growled, swinging again, landing a punch to Suna’s side. The blow made Suna cough, but he barely flinched.

“Look who's talking,” Suna retorted, wiping his mouth. “You don’t get to lecture me. You think I don't know what you want? You think I didn’t see the way you looked at her? How you act around her?”

Atsumu’s eyes darkened, the anger now mixing with something else—something deeper. “And what, huh?” He shoved Suna again, this time with more force. “You want to blame me for everything? You’re the one who fucked up with her. Not me. I didn’t do shit!”

Suna felt his chest tighten. He knew Atsumu had a point, but it still hurt to hear. "I didn’t do shit either," he muttered under his breath, fists clenching at his sides. “I should’ve… I should’ve fought for her. Instead, I pushed her away. Now look what I’ve got. Nothing.”

The room felt heavy for a moment, the noise of the party fading into the background as the two stood there, glaring at each other, breathing hard.

Then Atsumu shook his head, letting out a drunken laugh. “Damn, you’re such a loser, Suna.”

Suna's expression shifted, not from offense but from exhaustion. He wasn’t tired of the fight, he was tired of carrying this weight. The one he had pushed away. The one he had taken for granted. He didn’t care about the stupid brawl anymore.

You rushed into the room, heart pounding, only to freeze in the doorway at the sight before you. Suna was on the floor, a bit dazed, his lip split and bruised, his hair falling messily around his face. Atsumu was standing over him, hands raised like he was still ready to throw another punch.

“What the fuck are you guys doing?!” you exclaimed, voice laced with panic and disbelief.

Suna was barely registering your presence, his eyes unfocused, swaying slightly. Atsumu looked startled, realizing you had caught the scene, but there was still tension between him and Suna, like the argument was far from over.

Atsumu stepped back, glancing over at you with an awkward, defensive grin. “It’s not what it looks like, [Name],” he muttered, hands raised in mock surrender.

You shot him a glare, eyes flicking from him to Suna, who was still on the ground, now rubbing his sore jaw. His face looked tired, but there was a sadness behind his eyes that wasn’t just from the fight. Your chest tightened. It wasn’t just the alcohol or the fight—it was something deeper.

“Suna…” you whispered, dropping to your knees in front of him, your hands hovering around his shoulders, unsure of how to help. “What the hell, you’re bleeding…”

Suna’s gaze slowly met yours, and for a split second, it felt like everything else faded away. He blinked a couple of times, his expression shifting from confused to something almost vulnerable.

“Guess I’m a mess,” he mumbled, trying to joke, but his voice was rough, and he couldn’t hide the regret that crept into his eyes.

You didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t the Suna you remembered—the confident, distant guy who always acted like nothing phased him. This was someone who had been knocked down, physically and emotionally. Someone who wasn’t sure how to deal with what he’d done.

You sighed softly as you helped him up, his body leaning heavily against yours. He was drunk, disoriented, and still a little dazed from the fight. With careful steps, you guided him through the hallway, away from the noise of the party, until you reached the bathroom. You nudged the door open with your shoulder, and gently helped him sit down on the toilet, his body sagging with exhaustion.

"Stay here for a second," you muttered, your voice softer than you intended, but you didn't have the energy to sound stern. You didn't know what to say to him right now, but you didn't want to leave him alone, either.

Suna leaned back, his head resting against the wall, his eyes half-lidded as he stared at nothing in particular. He let out a slow exhale, looking like he was still trying to process everything that had just happened.

You turned away, grabbing a damp washcloth from the sink and walking back over to him. The moment you were close, you could smell the alcohol on his breath and see the pained look in his eyes, as though he didn’t quite know what had gotten him to this point.

"You're a mess, you know that?" You said softly, dabbing the cloth against his split lip, trying to stop the bleeding. He winced slightly, but didn't pull away.

"I know," Suna mumbled, voice hoarse. "I'm sorry, [Name]."

You paused for a second, your hands still on his face, and glanced up to meet his eyes. There was something there—a vulnerability he usually hid so well. "Don't apologize," you muttered, even though you felt like you should say more. You couldn’t find the right words, so you simply focused on wiping away the blood from his lip.

There was a heavy silence between you two, and you could hear the muffled sounds of the party outside, but inside this little bathroom, it was just the two of you.

You gently wiped the corners of his mouth before dropping the cloth in the sink and turning back to him. “Just… stay here for a while, okay?” You added, looking down at him, his messy hair sticking to his forehead as he slumped forward slightly.

Suna didn’t respond immediately. He just nodded, eyes closed again, as though the moment was enough to drain him further. You sighed, running a hand through your own hair. Part of you still wasn’t sure why you were doing this, why you were helping him so easily after everything, but another part of you—some part you couldn’t quite shake—just couldn’t stand to see him like this.

After a while, you stepped away, leaning against the counter. “You’ll be okay,” you added quietly, more to yourself than to him.

Suna’s quiet reply made your heart ache more than it should’ve. "I hope so."

You looked down to notice his shaking hands, his knuckles cracked and raw from the fight. A small frown tugged at your lips, your heart sinking at the sight. Without a word, you walked over to the mirror cabinet above the sink, opened it, and grabbed a few band-aids.

“Here…” you said softly as you returned to his side, kneeling down in front of him. You gently took his hand, his fingers cold and unsteady, and carefully placed the band-aids over the cracked skin of his knuckles. The soft motion felt strangely intimate, your hands working to tend to him, even if he didn’t fully deserve it.

Suna’s eyes were half-lidded, lost in thought, but he didn’t pull away. He didn’t speak either, just let you work, his shoulders hunched as if the weight of everything was pressing down on him.

When you finished, you looked up at him, your voice barely a whisper. "You should take care of yourself, Suna. I know you’re not… okay."

He didn’t respond immediately, just looked at you with that tired expression, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t. His eyes lingered on you for a moment, and you couldn’t help but feel the distance between you two in that look. It had been a long time since he’d let anyone see him like this—vulnerable and cracked, the mask he usually wore slipping.

He finally let out a small, resigned sigh, his voice quiet. "I know."

You stood there for a second, unsure of what to do next. You hadn’t planned on this—on him being like this—but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave him, not when he was like this.

You start to head out of the bathroom, trying to give him some space to breathe.

You paused in the doorway, your hand resting on the handle as you heard his voice—so quiet, almost swallowed by the silence of the room. His words hung in the air, like a secret he wasn’t sure he was ready to admit, but couldn’t stop from escaping anyway.

"[Name]… I really do miss you."

Your heart twisted in your chest, but you didn’t turn around. You couldn’t. Not now. Not when everything was still so messy and unresolved between the two of you. The memories of the past—of everything that led to this moment—flooded your mind, and for a second, you almost forgot to breathe.

But then his voice broke the silence again, this time quieter, almost self-mocking.

"That’s just the alcohol talking."

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, feeling a pang of sadness and frustration. You wanted to say something, anything, to ease the tension, but the words didn’t come. Instead, you just stood there, your back to him, and let the silence settle between you.

Suna’s confession hung in the air, lingering like an unspoken truth neither of you were brave enough to face fully. The alcohol was speaking, yes, but maybe there was truth in it too. Maybe the weight of everything he’d been avoiding had finally caught up to him, and now, in the quiet of the moment, he couldn’t deny it.

You took a slow, shaky breath, finally turning to face him. You didn’t want to show him how much his words had affected you. Not yet. "I’ll get you water," you said, your voice steady, even though inside, you felt like a storm was brewing.

You turned back just as Suna’s hand reached out towards you. His fingers trembled slightly, his bruised knuckles a painful reminder of the chaos from earlier. He winced as his hand straightened, as if the simple motion hurt more than it should. His eyes were locked on yours, though there was a quiet vulnerability in his gaze that you hadn’t seen in a long time.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The space between you seemed like a chasm, but Suna’s outstretched hand remained, as if he was waiting for you to bridge that gap.

You hesitated, but the longing in his eyes made you pause. The familiar ache in your chest only deepened, and you found yourself stepping closer without realizing it. You reached down, your fingers brushing his lightly at first, then holding his hand gently, avoiding the tender spots on his knuckles. His hand was warm against yours, despite the tremor running through it, and you couldn’t bring yourself to let go.

"Don’t do this," you whispered, voice barely above a breath. It was more of a plea to yourself than to him, but the words still felt heavy. You had been trying so hard to move forward, to leave everything behind, but somehow, in this moment, it felt impossible.

Suna’s expression softened, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something more, but he didn’t. Instead, he gave a quiet, almost broken sigh, squeezing your hand ever so slightly. His gaze dropped to where your fingers were intertwined, a faint sadness clouding his features.

"I messed up," he muttered, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. "I… I didn’t know how to fix it, and I still don’t."

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words settle over you, making your heart ache in a way you hadn’t expected. You wanted to respond, wanted to tell him it was okay, or that he didn’t have to explain himself. But the truth was, you didn’t know what you wanted to say. You didn’t know how to navigate this fragile space between the two of you, or if you even could.

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was more like a moment suspended in time, a brief interlude where everything—past and present—seemed to converge. You stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, his hand in yours, unsure of what the future might hold but reluctant to pull away.

Eventually, you pulled your hand back slightly, but you didn’t let go completely. You could still feel the warmth of his hand, even with the small space that had formed between you.

You walked out of the room, the soft click of the door behind you almost reassuring in its quiet finality. It didn’t take long to grab a glass of water from the kitchen, but by the time you returned, you could feel the weight of the night pressing on your shoulders. Everything felt suspended, like you were standing at the edge of something, unsure whether to step forward or retreat.

When you walked back into the bathroom, Suna was sitting on the edge of the sink, staring down at his hands, lost in thought. His posture was slouched, his shoulders heavy with the weight of everything unsaid between the two of you. You placed the glass of water on the counter with a soft clink, and he lifted his gaze slowly, eyes tired but still holding that quiet, unreadable look.

"I need to go home, it’s late," you said quietly, your voice almost drowned out by the pounding of your own heartbeat. "You should too."

Suna didn’t respond immediately. His gaze flickered to the water and then back to you, the silence stretching between you two like an unspoken question. You could see that he wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

Finally, Suna exhaled sharply, standing up slowly from the sink. He took the glass of water you’d set down and drank from it, eyes fixed on the counter as he swallowed. After a moment, he lowered the glass, the tension in his shoulders still obvious, but now there was a quiet acceptance in his expression.

"Yeah," he said, his voice low. "I should probably head out too."

He didn’t look at you as he turned towards the door, but you could hear the weight in his footsteps as he moved, and it struck you that he wasn’t just talking about leaving the party, or even the house. He was talking about something deeper—about the way he’d been avoiding everything that had caught up to him tonight.

Before he reached the door, you stopped him, your voice catching in your throat.

"Do you want me to… walk you home?" The question felt strange leaving your mouth, and you regretted it almost immediately. You weren’t sure what the right thing was to do anymore.

But Suna turned back toward you, his face softening. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he just stood there, the space between you feeling smaller than it had in hours.

"I should be the one saying that," he said after a moment, lightly laughing, but there was a quiet sincerity to his tone. "Thanks though."

You nodded, unsure of what to say next. You didn’t push it, letting him leave quietly, as though this was the way things had to end for now. There were still so many unsaid things between you, but for tonight, you’d let the silence do the talking.

As you watched him walk out, you couldn’t shake the feeling that things weren’t finished—not yet. But for now, you would let him go.

—-----

Suna slowly sat up, the light pouring in through the cracks in the curtains stabbing into his tired eyes. Groaning, he buried his face into the pillow, desperate to block out the world. His head was pounding, every throb a reminder of the wild night before. His body felt like it had been run over, and the dull ache in his chest only added to the chaos of his mind.

Everything about last night was a blur. Bits and pieces came to him in flashes—yelling, fighting, alcohol, Atsumu’s face, his own words slipping out before he could stop them… and then you. He remembered you.

But, what happened after? That part was foggy. He winced as he rubbed his chest, the lingering soreness of the punches he'd thrown still there. His lip felt swollen, his hands ached like they had been in a vice. He opened his eyes, glancing down at his knuckles. They were bruised, cracked.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. He looked around the room, trying to make sense of where he was. It took him a moment to realize he was back at his place, on his bed, still wearing the clothes from last night. The faint scent of alcohol hung in the air, and his throat felt dry, like he hadn’t had a drink in hours.

He ran his hand over his face, the hangover still tight around his skull. Last night… it wasn’t just about the alcohol. Something in him had snapped—something he hadn’t been able to keep buried any longer. He could barely remember the details, but he knew what had been at the heart of it all. You.

Last night had been a mess—a blur of words he shouldn’t have said, a fight he never should’ve started, all of it centered around you. You, who he couldn’t get out of his head, no matter how hard he tried.

He clenched his jaw, feeling the ache in his body from where he’d thrown punches, his hands still tender from the fight. Atsumu’s voice echoed in his mind: “You broke up with her. You let her go. You can’t get mad at me for moving on.”

But it wasn’t that simple, was it? He hadn’t wanted to break up with you. He hadn’t wanted to hurt you. He’d just—he didn’t know how to deal with it all, with the way you made him feel, how much he needed you but was too stubborn to admit it.

Stupid. So stupid.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized how much of an idiot he’d been. He’d shoved his feelings down for so long, convinced himself that he didn’t care, that it was better this way. But last night had proven how much of a lie that was. When he saw Atsumu looking at you, talking to you like it was nothing, jealousy had torn through him like wildfire.

He wanted to punch himself for not realizing sooner. He had pushed you away, made all the wrong choices, all because of his stupid pride. But now? Now, he couldn’t ignore the fact that every moment without you felt like he was losing a part of himself.

He groaned, his head throbbing harder as the memories of last night played in his mind like a broken record. Atsumu’s angry face, his words cutting deep, and then you, walking away.

Suna let out a frustrated sigh, standing up from the bed. He stumbled slightly, his body still not fully cooperating with his brain. His hands ached, and his chest felt tight with the guilt of it all. You’d been the one person who actually mattered to him. The one person he cared about more than anything, and he’d messed it up.

“Dammit,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t know what to do now. He couldn’t just go back to ignoring it, pretending everything was fine. He had to fix this, but how?

He thought about last night again, the way you had looked at him when he spoke, the brief exchange before you walked away. Maybe you were done with him, maybe you had already made up your mind to move on, but he couldn’t—he didn’t know how to. He wasn’t ready to give up on you yet.

Suna paced in front of the door, his heart pounding as his hands fumbled with the doorknob. He had no idea what to expect once he showed up at your house, but he couldn’t let the fear of rejection hold him back anymore. If Atsumu really was making a move on you, then he’d lose his chance forever. He couldn't let that happen—not again.

His stomach twisted as he shoved his shoes on, grabbing his jacket and slinging it over his shoulders. The hangover still clung to him, but the anxiety gnawing at him was stronger. He was scared—no, terrified. What if you didn’t even want to see him? What if everything he’d done was beyond fixing? But there was no turning back now.

With a deep breath, Suna splashed his face with cold water, the chill of it cutting through the haze of alcohol still lingering in his system. It wasn’t going to be easy, but he had to do this. He had to face the mess he’d made, and he had to face you.

He paused in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection. His hands still hurt from last night, bruised and cut, a reminder of his stupidity. His lip was sore too—an angry red mark where he had taken one of Atsumu’s punches. Suna clenched his jaw, feeling a surge of regret. But that was all in the past now. What mattered was what he was about to do.

His chest tightened again, his heart thumping in his ears as he stepped out the door.

Suna stood there, his hands jammed deep into his hoodie pockets, his posture slumped as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. His heart was pounding in his chest, and for a brief moment, he considered just turning around and walking away. He was afraid—afraid of what you might say, afraid of how you'd look at him after everything he’d done.

But then you opened the door, your eyes meeting his. For a split second, he saw the concern flicker in your gaze, and it made his stomach twist. He hated that he had put that look there. He hated that he had been the one to make you worry.

"Are you okay?" Your voice was soft, tentative, as if you weren't sure how to approach him anymore. You looked at him like you weren’t sure whether to welcome him in or slam the door shut.

Suna exhaled slowly, trying to gather his thoughts. He wasn’t sure how to answer that. He wasn’t sure if he was okay at all. But he had to start somewhere, right?

“I… I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice almost a whisper. “I don’t think I am.”

His eyes dropped to the ground, feeling the weight of his own words. There was so much more he wanted to say, so much he needed to say, but the lump in his throat made it hard to even speak. He was scared. Scared of how you might react, scared that this was it—this was the end.

“I just—” He started again, shaking his head as if trying to get his thoughts to line up, to make sense of them. “I was stupid, okay? I was so fucking stupid and selfish, and I don’t even know why I—”

His words faltered, his chest tightening as the regret and guilt from the past few months all came rushing to the surface. “I hurt you. And I hate myself for it.”

He finally looked up at you, seeing the confusion in your eyes, the hurt he had caused written all over your face. That look made his heart ache, but it also gave him the strength he needed to finally speak the truth.

“I miss you,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse. “I miss everything about you. And I was too proud and too dumb to admit it. I shouldn’t have let you go. I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

He paused, watching as you processed his words. His hands still shoved deep into his pockets, but now his shoulders were a little less slumped. He wasn’t sure if this was going to fix anything—he wasn’t sure if it could—but at least he was being honest with you. At least he was finally admitting how much he messed up.

“I don’t know what else to say,” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “But I just—please don’t hate me.”

The silence stretched between you, and Suna held his breath, waiting for you to say something, anything.

You took a deep breath, your gaze softening as you spoke. "I could never hate you, Suna. But you pushed me away, and it really hurt." Suna's chest tightened at your words. You could never hate him? He wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or guilty. Of course, you couldn’t hate him. You were kind, thoughtful, always willing to forgive. But that didn’t change the fact that he had pushed you away, and now here he was, begging for a chance to make it right. He looked down at the ground, unable to meet your eyes. The weight of your words hit him harder than any punch. It hurt. He had known it, of course, but hearing it from you, feeling the quiet sting of that simple truth—he realized just how deep the damage went. "I know," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have acted like that. I was… scared. Scared of how much you meant to me, scared of being vulnerable, scared of losing you, and I thought that if I pushed you away first, it wouldn’t hurt so much when you left." He paused, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips, but it wasn’t a happy one. “How stupid is that?” Suna finally dared to look up, his eyes softening as they met yours. The guilt in his chest was suffocating, but now he felt something else—something almost like hope. The hope that maybe, just maybe, there was still a way to fix this. Maybe it wasn’t too late. “I’ve spent so much time lying to myself, convincing myself I didn’t need you when deep down, I was just terrified of being left. I don’t know what happened to me, [Name]. I thought I was in control, but… I wasn’t.” He stepped forward, just a little, wanting to close the distance between you. “I don’t want to lose you. Not like this. I’ve already ruined everything, and I know it’s not going to be easy for you to just… forgive me. But I want to try. I want to fix this.” Suna's voice cracked, and for the first time, he felt a vulnerability he had buried for so long. “I want you back, [Name]. Not because I’m scared, but because I love you, and I should’ve said that when I had the chance.”

There, he said it. And now it was out there in the open. The truth. He had said it before, in fragments, but never like this. Never with this much weight behind it.

For a moment, there was only silence. The kind that made everything feel too big and too small at the same time. Suna watched you carefully, his chest tight with uncertainty, as you seemed to process his words. The air was thick with everything unsaid, and his heart raced. What if you didn’t feel the same?

Then, without warning, you stepped forward. Your hand reached for his, trembling slightly, and his breath caught in his throat. You looked up at him with eyes that were glistening, filled with a mixture of pain and something else—something he could barely comprehend, something that made his own heart ache.

“I… I didn’t think you’d ever feel that way about me again,” you whispered, the words soft but heavy. Then, before he could respond, you suddenly threw your arms around him, burying your face against his chest.

The sudden contact made Suna freeze for a moment, the heat of your body against his, your tears dampening his shirt. He wasn’t sure what to do, but then he heard you speak again, this time your voice muffled by his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should’ve never blocked you. I… I was so hurt, but I love you, Suna. I love you too.”

Suna’s heart stopped for a moment. He hadn’t expected this, not this quickly, not after everything. He hesitated, his arms hovering by his sides, unsure whether he deserved this closeness, unsure if you meant it. But then, slowly, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, feeling the weight of everything he’d been carrying—the guilt, the confusion, the regret—finally start to lift.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m the one who messed up. I hurt you, and I don’t deserve you, but I’m not going to let you go. Not again.”

You clung to him, shaking slightly, the sobs coming in quiet waves. Suna tightened his grip on you, his own chest tight, his breath shallow. It felt like everything he had been longing for, everything he had been afraid to admit, was finally here in this moment.

“I was so stupid,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he pressed his forehead against yours. “I thought I could be okay without you, but I can’t. I don’t want to be without you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your tears soaking into his skin. “I just didn’t know if you still felt the same. I thought you… didn’t want me anymore.”

Suna gently pulled back slightly, just enough to look at your face, his hand reaching up to brush the tears away from your cheeks. “I’ve never stopped wanting you,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I just… I thought if I pushed you away first, it wouldn’t hurt so much when I lost you. But I was wrong. I lost you anyway.”

You shook your head, your hand gently cupping his face. “You didn’t lose me, Suna. Not if you’re willing to fight for us.”

He smiled softly, a weight he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying lifting off his chest. He could feel the pieces of his broken heart slowly falling back into place. “I’ll fight for us,” he promised, his voice strong, his hands shaking just slightly as he held you close. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

And as you held each other in that quiet moment, Suna felt a warmth spread through him—something that had been missing for so long. A feeling that maybe, just maybe, things could be okay again.

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