#Songs like Sunlight Au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

earth4angels · 25 days

Text

a beginner's guide to stealing a heart modern jacaerys targaryen x fem!reader.

synopsis: opening the most popular flower shop in town came with its perks — everyday business and a cute regular customer who comes in every week with a new excuse for the sake of new flowers or so he says. tags — fluff, loser jace, aged-up characters. jace is 25, reader is 23. slight cursing, florist au. benji/davos and aeron are little matchmakers. confessions through flower meanings, slow burn. love at first sight, soulmate au.

a/n: thank you to @jacesvelaryons for the inspiration and for those that dragged me out of my jace drought era. this one is for my flower girls.

jace nation taglist (open!) : @jacaerysgf @hxtd @benjinotes @imissyoudarling @rinisfruity14 @ambrosia-v-black @littleblackcatinwonderland @smurfelle @nanaldy @bryscorner @star611 @astrxq @reyndaisy @intheheartoftheking @gracexthoughts @nixtape-foryou @starrgurl46 @ethereal-athalia @stelleduarte @chuuritoz @melsunshine @frombloodandfire @still-jon-snow @velaryonbastard @vee-mage @vividxpages

The sign was now flipped, shining against the rays of sunlight, you took a deep breath as you stepped back — the welcome-in sign now staring right back at you. You smiled, your fingers interlocking in front of you as you bounced on your feet, the joy running through your veins.

“Alright, you can stop bouncing now, let me take your picture!”

The sound of your best friend of many years made you turn, your cheeks still blazing with the amount of laughter and smiling you were emitting all morning.

“I won’t take it if you’re not with me Benji,” your tone sounded demanding, but Benjicot knew better than to know you were serious. He rolled his eyes, the camera in his hands was now in someone’s ownership. He snapped his head towards the thief finding himself face to face with his boyfriend, Aeron Bracken.

“Alright now! Get closer!”

Benjicot playfully nipped his boyfriend’s finger causing Aeron to burst out laughing, you smiled from the sidelines, your heart pounding as if it was ready to jump out of your chest. This moment, you wish you could frame it forever.

Benji threw you over his shoulder causing you to laugh as you started to throw weak insults at your best friend who laughed with you, Aeron did not hold back and used the opportunity to snap multiple pictures.

In the middle of September, when the sun was setting and the chill of the wind began to pick up, to you it felt the warmest. You had your best friends help you open a business you sacrificed so much labor in — Everlast, was now yours and open for business.

The flowers scattered around your desk as your rummaged through the mess of your laces and twirls. You began to curse under your breath when you couldn’t find the note your client had left you, indicating instructions of what flowers they wanted and by when.

“Ha! I found you,” you muttered as you looked through the invoice, mumbling again you began to work. The flower shop had a soft, welcoming aura that made anyone that walked through the door smile. You worked quietly and quick, humming to the song that currently played through the store.

Dringgggg!

You heard the door of your shop open, “I’ll be right with you in a minute!” you exclaimed as you snipped off the bottom of a rose with scissors. You did not hear a reply, you took it as the client was looking into the flowers.

You stood, taking off your thick gloves off, facing the stranger that walked through the door with a smile on your face you paused before welcoming them.

In front of you stood a man, he had short brown curls that reached his chin, and his eyes sparkled like rare gems, if you looked closely, you would see the way his eyes had a mixture of different shades of brown. He was tall, average, but taller than you are slightly. His lips were plumped and shiny as if he applied lip balm. He was very handsome which caused you to clear your throat as you shook off the mid-pause you had made.

He stood in front of the front desk moving side to side as his fingers tapped silently onto the glass of your desk. He seemed nervous.

You bit your lip slightly, your smile never falling off your face, “Hi, welcome! How can I help you?”

His eyes widened, and quickly darted around the room as if looking for something, he opened his mouth to speak but then closed it. You noticed his cheeks got red as it spread across his nose. You tried hard not to laugh, so you spoke, saving him from any more trouble.

“Are you looking for a particular flower? I have many that can suit your tastes,” you spoke softly, leaning forward just a little to show the now red-faced male some of the popular bouquets you had.

He suddenly raised a shaky hand and pushed his hair back, licking his lips he spoke, his voice bringing you to a state of comfort, you found it odd that this stranger had such impact on you. His voice touched you deep, wrapping you in warm hug.

“I u-um,” he cleared his throat, coughing, “I’m looking for flowers f-for my um…” he paused as he yet had not looked towards you, his eyes still looking around, searching.

“M-my mom. Yeah! My mom. I’m looking for flowers for her, an arrangement of a sort,” he spoke fast, stumbling over a few words. You quirked up an eyebrow, finding him adorable.

You opted to saying a thought you should’ve kept in your head, but your mouth ran quicker than your brain, “Your mom?”

The tip of his ears to the bridge of his nose became so red his eyes became more brighter, as if the blush on his skin enhanced the color of his eyes. You pressed your lips tighter holding in a giggle that was threatening to erupt — the stranger was too cute.

You smiled, your lips stretching wide as your chest rumbled with a soft chuckle, “Alright, Mr. Buying - Flowers - For - His - Mother on a Wednesday morning, let me show you our arrangements”

He followed behind you in stumbling steps, his fingers fidgeting, the curls that sat on top of his head spread forward covering the caramel eyes you were starting to enjoy.

“Okay, so we have these, they do range from a reasonable price, but it does change due to the flowers you’ll want to add or the decoration of course,” you were smiling, explaining the flowers you created for display, Jacaerys only looked down on you, his heart thumping in a rhythm that made him feel invincible.

You picked up a bouquet, smelling the fresh aroma of its petals, the smell of fresh lilies, and sunflowers wrapping you like a summer evening. Jacaerys only thought you looked beautiful, as you stood with a flower bouquet in your hands, your hair spread behind your shoulders, the jumper you had on, you were a dream.

“Is it for a special occasion? Birthday?” your voice knocked him out of his thoughts as he scrambled to think of another excuse, he used the most generic one he could think of.

His eyes avoided yours as he looked behind you at the rows of flowers, he opened his mouth to speak, his voice sounding like a haunted door, he cringed — clearing his throat he spoke again, “U-um, just because. F-Flowers should show how one feels n-no?”

You bit your bottom lip again - a habit you were trying to get over -, your eyes narrowing, the stranger in front of you was strangely attractive, odd but you couldn’t help feeling a flutter inside your stomach.

“They do actually. A color and a flower explain what we feel, every flower speaks its definition, it’s delicate, fragile and if given with true emotion, the flower lasts longer than its expectancy.”

You spoke with longing, Jacaerys tilted his head trying to read you. He did not know why he came into the shop in the first place, he just wanted to connect with you someway. You always opened the shop with steps that made you look as if you flew against the wind, a smile so bright it bought warmth in his heart.

Every morning as he went for a cup of tea and coffee for his best friend, he saw you across the street, flipping the welcome sign towards the street with a bright smile, it was then one day he decided to answer the curiosity of an unknown connection he felt towards you, to tighten his hold on the magnetic pull that pulled him to stand where he is now.

You sighed, shaking your head at the thought of your mother’s voice as she reminded you how every flower held a story yet to be told by the owner that bought them. You faced the stranger again, smiling softly.

“Any ideas what you’d like to purchase today?”

The stranger gulped as he yet again avoided your eyes, searching around he sighed, “I’m afraid I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

Finally, you released a laugh bringing Jacaerys’ poor heart to skyrocket, “That’s fine, most men don’t know what they’re purchasing when they enter a flower shop — you’re in luck however.”

Jacaerys knew if he looked at you, he would never look away anymore, so he leaped forward, taking a chance. He faced you, his eyes capturing the beauty of your eyes, as if the force that connected you both wrapped him, he gasped softly. You were more than beautiful, your eyes spoke of stories he wanted to know, a mystery he would spend hours trying to understand.

You were also mesmerized, the caramel eyes that now locked with yours had you gripping your flowers. The breeze of the AC you had on the store suddenly felt warm. The stranger captured you in ways you weren’t sure if it was meant to happen.

“Why?” he asked, the flush on his skin still kissed his entire face.

You breathed in, before smiling again, “You have me.”

His cheeks were now blazing with a red color you grew to fall in love with, he looked away with a small smile on his lips.

“Truly, I am in luck then.”

You nodded, tapping your fingers into the glass table for a couple of seconds to think of your next move. Finally, you moved around your desk standing in front of him.

“Okay, so I made these fresh bouquets just this morning, because they are for your mother, I can give them to you cheaper than usual, a gift from me to you, as well for first time purchase!”

Jacaerys with blazing cheeks, quirked his lip in a small smirk, he found you beyond adorable, special with a heart full of dedication for the passion over flowers and aiming for success.

“You’re amazing,” he mumbled, dazed. You stopped mid-sentence, your eyes wide as the same color he had on his cheeks spread on your own.

“What?”

Jacaerys paused, then as quickly as the flush on cheeks came, the paleness overtook it, he took a step back. He was cursing himself for speaking his thoughts out loud. He ruined the chance to talk to you more, dammit.

“What?” he repeated after you to disguise what he had said. You were blushing; your stomach filled with endless flutters. You watched as he struggled to make a cover for his embarrassment his curls did no effort to help him hide, however. The blush on his face was now a cherry red, if it was not for your own blush and struggle to hide your shyness, you would have started laughing or joked about it.

"I-I'm sorry, I was talking about the flowers, how they are beautiful and amazing, yeah," he spoke fast again, he had now relied on grabbing a random bouquet beside you, examining it, smelling it, hiding the fact he wanted the ground to bury him alive.

You ignored the way your heart was beating miles per second, the way your smile never wavered from being stretched softly across your face. This stranger had you feeling so... warm.

You leaned against the wood of your flower stand, nodding, your mouth opening to a silent 'ah.'

"Well, um... what's the occasion? That way I can help you organize the perfect flowers," you muttered, your cheeks feeling hot, so your hand waved some cool air that made no change.

Jacaerys lifted the bouquet, "This is perfect I think," his voice wavered, unsure, curiosity peeking through the thought. He stopped when he heard you laugh, a sweet sound that almost made him start giggling as well.

You wheezed, "I think not."

He paused, his head tilted to the side, "Why not?"

Between the giggles, you acknowledged the bouquet he had in his hands, "Unless you want to let your mother know you are so sorry and are in a deep grief, then I strongly suggest you put it down and let me help you find something different."

His eyes widened, and he rushed to put the bouquet that held red-spider, and red poppies down delicately back onto the shelf, if Luke had seen this, he would have never let it down, "I did not know... it meant that."

You chuckled, "It's not your fault, many don't know but you have me to walk you through the process," you cleared your throat to stop the giggles, "Okay, so what's the reason, is it her birthday? What do you want to convey?"

You saw him struggling again, his eyebrows creasing, his lips forming a small pout, in his thoughts, you allowed yourself to observe him; he was tall, beautiful, and his entire face was still blazing, held constellations of freckles that had you admiring how befitting it was.

"How much I love her," he spoke shyly, "I haven't seen her for a month due to work, so I want to tell her I love her."

Your heart tugged at his explanation, yearning for the love he felt for his mother, longing for your own mother that you knew was not there for you to wrap your arms around. Your eyes stung, blinking the aching away, you spoke as you moved towards your desk again, "I know the perfect flowers."

Your eyes that once held a brightness to it, faded to a sad glint. Jacaerys wondered what story conveyed behind your sad eyes, in the moment he decided the glimmer that your eyes had looked so much better than the dullness making a home in your gaze.

You prepared a bouquet of 14 tulips and peonies, wrapping them in a scented butcher paper with your store's logo. You sprayed a special fragrance to enrich the color and scent, finally tying a white ribbon around the bouquet.

Your smile returned, feeling wholesome again, looking at your work you admired the beauty before catching the stranger's eyes again who was observing you entranced in your element. Jacaerys never felt this feeling before, you were calming, patient, dedicated to your craft, loving and you never faltered a smile - you were perfect.

"There you go, all ready to be hugged by your mother," you sighed in completion.

Jacaerys never took his eyes off yours now, it was evident he wanted to know more about you, to discover your quirks, to know what made you sad and what didn't. His nose was suddenly enamored with a sweet scent - the flowers you prepared.

"Why these?" he softly questioned, it was as if the flowers spoke to him, he admired every detail your soft hands put into it.

You smiled, looking away you talked as if you were looking into a memory, "Tulips represent perfection, royalty, a mother's job is to look after us, struggling quietly to see our dreams come true, I think the tulips represent your mother's patience, as she knows you work hard, and she is rooting for every step you take."

Jacaerys heart felt as it stopped, as if a force pushed against his chest making him short of breath, your words hitting him deep within the walls he tends to keep up. The love he held for his mother was underestimated, they always disagreed over his future, his mother always wanting the best for him and Jacaerys, holding an ego of wanting to show he could do anything comes into play. You unintentionally read through the dynamic his mother and he had. He had never admired and fell for someone this quick before.

He stood, saying nothing as you spoke again, "Peonies mean beauty and elegance, it never hurts to remind your mother how beautiful she is, and how she holds herself with such class guiding you and if you have siblings forward."

He breathed in, his thoughts consuming how admirable you were, "Wow... well um," he began to stutter again, "Th-thank you."

You proudly smiled, "No, thank you for letting me help you."

Jacaerys matched your smile, both of your hearts beating fast, cheeks covered in a similar hue of red. Time did not exist in the moment, as you stared at him with wonder and him with endless admiration and love. Jacaerys knew it was too early for love, but he welcomed the feelings that came knocking on his door like summer taking over the coldness of winter. He welcomed the warmth, the flutters that occurred in his body, the urge to suddenly go outside and scream from happiness.

The bell of your door rang, you did not bother to check who it was as you continued to look at the male in front of you, a question on your tongue urging to spill out.

"Y/n! Let's go to lunch, Aeron cooked a fancy dish he wants you to try!" Benjicot dragged his feet towards you, his arms stretched out to gather you in his arms to lazily lean against your back.

You snapped out of your daze, as Jacaerys jumped from the loud voice of your best friend, clearing his throat he took out his card to pay for the flowers. Benjicot whistled lowly, "Damn, you must be filthy rich huh?"

Your eyes widened, and in a reflex you through your elbow back to hit your best friend in the stomach, a smirk crawling into your face as you heard your Benji released a loud yelp.

"I am so sorry for my best friend, he clearly was not taught manners," you hissed the last word towards your groaning best friend who whined about how harsh you were with him, "I'm sorry again..."

Jacaerys felt relieved knowing that you both were just friends, however, the question still remained, was your heart taken? He shook his head as he waved you off, "It's okay, no harm done."

You ran his card on the tab, and you felt Benjicot leaning against your back again, ignoring his whining you faced the smiling man, "Do you want your receipt?"

Benjicot observed the situation rather quickly, making it a conversation he would have with his boyfriend about how adorable you were with your first crush in a while. You probably did not even know you were growing an affection towards the rich man as Benji called him now. He smirked, a plan forming in his head, he just needed to consult his lover.

Jacaerys shook his head, the curls moved slightly across his eyes, and your fingers twitched to run through them, "It's okay. Thank you again for all the help."

You smiled softly, "It's no problem, please come again, and let me know if she likes them," you nodded your head towards the bouquet, "Give them to her with a lot of love, okay?"

He did not want to leave, wanting to stay to talk to you, to listen to your soft voice and hear you talk about flowers if that was all you wanted to talk about. But he saw the way your best friend was eyeing him, inspecting him with his narrowed eyes, almost like a lion eyeing his prey. Jacaerys suddenly felt naked. He definitely did not want to cross your best friend if he wanted to get to you.

"Definitely, thank you again."

Smiling brightly, you waved as he took small, longing steps towards the breeze of the peak of winter.

"Have a good day!" You shouted as he waved at you outside the shop.

Benjicot mocked you, "Have a good day!"

He enjoyed the small stutter you began your nagging with, as well as the deep flush your cheeks had. So, you did develop a crush. He chuckled evilly; this was certainly gossip he was going to have a blast telling Aeron before bed tonight.

You slapped his shoulder, "That was rude Ben!

He whined again, "Ow! I didn't mean for it to be a loud thought!"

Your eyes glared at him but held no ill intention, “You could have scared him away!”

Benji stopped his whining before he slowly looked at you, his eyes now holding suspicion, with a glint of mischief, “Oh yeah? You sure that was it? Suddenly so protective of him…”

You paused, caught red-handed, swallowing to get rid of your suddenly dry mouth, “Okay…” your hands started to wave around another habit of yours when you got nervous, “He was kind of cute…”

Benji laughed loudly, boasting so loud that had you shying away as you smacked his shoulder again, now it was your turn to whine, “Stop!”

“Oh, wait until I tell Aeron!” Tears pooled in his eyes as he continued to laugh loudly, “You have a crush on a client!”

You shushed him as you moved to lock the door of your flower shop, making a note to customers you were off to break and will be back.

“Shut up! I just thought he was cute!”

“Yeah, so cute that you gave him a big discount, right…”

You rubbed your eyebrow, your face covered in what felt like hot fire, you wanted the floor to swallow you. You pushed him out the door as both of you welcomed the chilly evening. Your whining echoing through the air as your best friend’s loud laughter bought warmth to the cold giving it a perfect combination.

༻❁༺

You never saw him again, your heart yearned to see the handsome stranger again. It felt as if it was forever since you saw him, you were tempted to search social media to find him. However, you were exaggerating, it was only a week since you saw him, a week and a half. You truly were in deep for a stranger who probably forgot all about you.

You mopped the floor of your ship with hips swaying softly to the beat of your favorite band playing. Too entranced with the errand you were doing, the stranger you longed to see again walked in again, he leaned lightly on one of the flower shelves, his face holding a soft grin.

Jacaerys couldn’t wait anymore, he had to see you again, to talk to you more. He cleared his throat, watching as you jumped, your eyes wide capturing the whole of his heart. Oh, you were so beautiful.

“Seven hells…” you muttered, holding tightly to the mop, “I am sorry! I didn’t see you.”

You rushed to look presentable, suddenly regretting you didn’t wear something better than your overalls. He continued to smile softly, ignoring the blush that spread across his face again. He walked towards the glass table again, this time with a better excuse to why he was there.

“It’s okay, I came in quite unexpectedly and quiet, I’m sorry for scaring you,” he stumbled with his words, mentally slapping his head for sounding so nervous around you.

“Ah…” your smile trembled; you were nervous to see him again. Suddenly you remembered, “Oh! Did your mother enjoy the flowers?”

He looked at you with a gaze that made you want to hide, and it was not out of fear, but rather you couldn't explain why his gaze made you feel so... full. As if he laughed at an inner thought, he released a small chuckle, looking away to look at your store, surprised you added twinkle lights making the shop look more welcoming.

"Yeah," he cleared his throat, "She loved it a lot, thank you."

Your body felt liberating, feeling a surge of pride. You clapped your hands together as you jumped lightly on your toes, "I am so glad she loved it."

He locked eyes with you again, this time, the stranger that you now needed to know his name, held glasses over his eyes. You figured you loved to see him this way, his glasses were made for him, and his curls were tussled as if he was constantly running his hand over and over through them.

He wore beige loose jeans with sneakers, his muscular upper body covered by a white t-shirt wrapped with an embroidery vest. He looked beautiful.

Your words suddenly blurred as you couldn't figure out what you wanted to say next, so stupidly you asked, "Um... why are you here?" You slapped your cheek lightly realizing that came out rude, "Oh my, I am so sorry... I did not mean it that way!"

Jacaerys laughed, this time he was more confident, he was going to make it a mission to know you more even if it meant drowning his and Cregan's shared apartment with flowers.

"It's okay, um so I truly loved the flowers and was wondering if you had flowers for..." he paused as he thought for an excuse, "... my younger brother... he won his baseball tournament."

You tilted your head with a million questions that occurred at that moment, the stranger was odd - but you never neglected service especially when the stranger smiled timidly towards you.

"Of course, roses will be your best friend! I hope your um... brother, enjoys the bright red color."

Jacaerys felt like a child again, crushing on his first-ever person, at this rate, he was going to make you think he was weird for buying flowers every week. But, if this meant he was going to see you more often, talk to you, hear you talk about flowers, and watch your face light up with so much devotion, he was open for the challenge.

Biting the inner side of his cheek, he nodded, "I know he will."

Yeah, Lucerys will definitely tease him and probably eye the bouquet of flowers with disgust, questions in his eyes as to why his older brother gave him flowers. Not to mention, Lucerys did not play baseball, and he definitely did not win any tournaments. He played guitar and was in a band.

You moved to the fridge where you kept fresh flowers ready to be prepped. As you took out twelve roses to wrap them in your regular butcher paper, Jacaerys leaned too close to watch you, not watching the weight he was pressing onto your desk.

One moment, he was watching you with a small smile, his heart overwhelmed with the beauty you beheld as you worked quietly. And one moment after the other occurred, the weight of his elbow shattered the desk.

You screamed and snapped out of your bubble. You scrambled to grab your flowers before you looked at the male who began cursing loudly, jumping side to side as he held his bleeding arm.

"Oh my god, oh my god," you panicked watching the blood that seeped out of his arm. You breathed in and held your breath to avoid the nausea that was crawling up your system, you and blood were never a good combination.

You moved to grab a clean rag and rushed towards the male who now held teary eyes. Pressing a warm towel to his wound you grabbed his hand to press it against your hand, "Hold still! Press the rag towards your wound!"

He whimpered, embarrassed out of his mind, he could not believe he made a fool out of himself in front of you to make matters worse.

You grabbed your keys and rushed to push him out the door. You winced as you saw the puddle of blood on the floor of your shop. You would make Benji clean it for you, your mind was occupied with the injured male.

Jacaerys protested he was okay, but with the adrenaline that was running through his body, he did not see the big chunk of glass in his arm. However, you did, and you felt wobbly.

"Oh god..." You wanted to puke now.

You drove fast to the clinic nearby, rushing to get the still protesting male out of the car to the lobby, his face was pale but if you looked enough, he was completely embarrassed. You breathed hard through your mouth, avoiding breathing through your nose.

If this did not make you run for the hills and ban him from ever stepping into your shop, he would not know what to do. Cregan and Lucerys would have a field trip teasing him for being this idiotic.

As he sat in the clinic bed, his arm now wrapped in gauze, the color of his cheeks now returning back to normal, he groaned slamming his hand against his face. He had ruined his chance with you.

You knocked on the door softly, walking in with soft steps towards him. Jacaerys had his eyes wide open, his mouth opening to a small 'o'.

"How do you feel?"

Jacaerys wanted to bury himself deep inside the earth's crust and never appear, "U-U-Um, idiotic? Embarrassed. I promise to pay for the damage I caused. I am so sorry! I promise to pay you!"

You snorted when you heard his fast scattered speech again, he was too cute. You placed a hand on his shoulder stopping his apologies, "How about you heal first and then we'll talk about how to hold your strength back Mr. Hulk."

Please kill me, Jacaerys thought as he watched you chuckle, shaking your head as you tapped his shoulder softly.

༻❁༺

Benjicot and Aeron laughed loudly together. Benji had his arm wrapped around his boyfriend's neck, Aeron giggled into his chest as you drank your glass of wine, cheeks red again.

"So, wait, after that, he ran away?" Aeron questioned as he giggled.

You groaned into your hands, before nodding, "Yes! I went to fetch him some snacks because you know blood loss or something, and I was told he paid for everything and left!"

Benji scoffed, "Well at least he paid but," he snorted, a laugh building in his throat, "Shattering a glass table? You truly had him mesmerized darling."

You threw a piece of your garlic bread at him, he laughed as he moved to the side to miss your hit, "Oh shut up! He was just embarrassed, besides glass tables are fragile! It was bound to break anytime soon."

"Right, right. Calm down, protective girlfriend, I was only teasing," Benji stuck his tongue out, blowing a raspberry. You imitated him, flipping him a finger instead as he winked, "You wish darling but unfortunately, I don't like sharing."

You moaned in disgust, "Ugh Benji! Keep the bedroom stuff private!"

He snickered, "What? I'm only saying!"

Aeron who watched in the embrace of his boyfriend smiled softly at the childish antics of you both. There was nothing better than being in the presence of both of your energies, this was home to him.

"What are you going to do when you see him again?" Aeron asked quietly watching carefully how you blushed and shrugged your shoulders.

"Attend to him like a regular customer? I don't know."

Benji made eye contact with Aeron, and a silent agreement came across their silent conversation.

༻❁༺

"Thank you so much for coming Fleur, I hope your wedding is the best dream. I will place an order on those arrangements you asked for and I will deliver them to the reception first thing in the morning!"

Your regular customer smiled as she hugged you, thanking you for everything you have done for her. You will never ask for anything better than to watch the happiness on your client's faces with every rose you gave them.

As you waved her goodbye, a tall male entered behind her, he was blonde, with a short stubble. You were confused as to who this was, you had never seen him around before. The male looked at you up and down, a small smirk forming.

Eyebrows scrunched together, a frown forming on your face, you calmy and politely asked, "Hi, how can I help you?"

"So, you are the girl that has my good old friend freaking out that he made such an idiot of himself?"

Your face features switched from a slight anger to confusion to realization, "Oh? Oh!"

Cregan smirked, "I came on behalf of him to bring you a brand-new table, before you protest, Jace had said to physically fight you if you denied his apology. So please, allow me to bring it in, I truly do not want to lock you in the bathroom or something."

You started to argue as he moved towards the door to grab the desk, "Hey! No!"

Cregan clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "Ay. Let me bring it in, please. Allow my fool of my best friend to get a piece of calamity, he has been embarrassed for two weeks now, and trust me, he gets annoying with that ramble of his."

You bit your lip, "Okay... fine. I will allow you to replace my table, but please tell him there is no need. And I send all my friendly encouragement for him to get better."

Cregan thought you and Jacaerys would definitely make the cutest couple, he can spot all the similarities already. His foolish friend just needed to grow a good set of balls to ask you out. He simply waved you off, "Will do."

Cregan moved fast and quietly, he never said a word to you after that. He did however observe you, he was curious to why his best friend was so deep into you, and then he realized, the way you handled yourself, spoke, and thought… made you stand out to the many girls that threw themselves to Jacaerys.

With a final push and a wipe across the clean glass, Cregan stretched his arms upwards to release the balls of stress that formed in his shoulders.

“Alright, there you go. If you see Jace, please tell his clumsy little self to stay away from glass and anything breakable.”

You laughed, so that was his name. Jace.

“Will do, please let him know it’s okay. It was an accident, and I will be happy to see him again if he plans to pick up the flowers for his brother’s tournament present.”

Cregan’s face turned confused, tournament? Luke did not play sports. He paused to question what you were talking about until he realized the stunt his friend did. His face turned from confused too humorous. He laughed as he nodded, walking out the door not saying a thing to you leaving you more confused than ever. Cregan and this Jace were truly odd people.

Jacaerys was truly a lovesick idiot.

༻❁༺

It was now December; you were thankful of your business blooming upon everyone. You had business every day, especially with formal events coming up, and everyone wanting to decorate their homes with pretty flowers for the festivities. You couldn’t ask for anything better.

Jace, who you finally found out his real name, Jacaerys, was a regular. After overcoming his embarrassment and shyness of coming face to face with you after breaking your desk — came by every week for fresh flowers. You wondered if he truly had a big family, as every bouquet was for an aunt, uncle, brother, half brother, sister who was also a cousin… you were confused by his odd family tree but never questioned it.

On a Thursday afternoon, before it was time to close, he came by again, excitedly you welcomed him. Your heart never failing to beat fast as you saw him walk in.

“Hi Jacaerys, how are you?” you watched as he sighed, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose slightly. Your finger twitched to fix them.

“Alright, a lot better now that I am here though,” he muttered shyly, you grinned hiding your blush behind your hair.

“Right, so what can I do for you?” You pulled your regular butcher paper, and some scissors ready to prepare flowers for him.

Jacaerys was now running out of excuses, Cregan was beginning to get annoyed with the excessive amount of flowers that now consumed their home.

Rhaenyra was constantly confused to why her son always walked in with a dazed smile on his face and a new fresh of bouquet. She was beginning to question if he was stealing these bouquets but she knew better than to assume her son stole anything. Her mind automatically went to the question of whether his son was in love and she hoped that you were a kind girl with a big heart because Jacaerys needed someone to love him massively, and with Jacaerys came a big family that meant the world to him.

“Well, it’s my dad’s birthday tomorrow and you’re the best at making the best flowers. He needs some color in his office,” he said, his smile trembling as a glint of mischief flashed across his eyes.

As you moved to grab the perfect flowers you paused, “Wait…” You turned towards him, your head titled to the side with a very confused expression, “Your dad? You said two weeks ago that it was your dad’s birthday?”

Jacaerys entire face couldn’t get anymore redder than it already was, he began to stutter, “Yeah. It was my step dad’s birthday, now it’s my other dad’s birthday, biological!”

Your expression did not falter, “So you have three dads? Because you also mentioned before that you wanted flowers that spoke of the ocean, your father Laenor loved the sea.”

Please kill me, seven hells please. Jacaerys did not know what to say then, “Yeah well… you see… my mom remarried a lot,” he chuckled nervously.

You raised an eyebrow, “Huh… well the more dads the better no?” You poked jest at him, pursing your lips to hold in a grin.

He nodded fast, “Yeah, amazing!”

Jacaerys loved his family but it was quite chaotic with many family members running around.

“Hm…” You hummed as you moved to prepare the flowers, a regular routine that Jacaerys never got tired of. He enjoyed watching you be in your element.

For a while, in a comfortable silence, you held the bouquet out towards him, “Here we go!”

Jacaerys did not know how much more excuses he can come up with just to come to talk to you. He was going to make every second of it be worth it.

“They are beautiful, thank you for being amazing yet again.”

Your cheeks became warm again, you waved your hands around to push his compliments away, “Ah, no you’re exaggerating. I simply enjoy flowers and making people happy, it’s no problem at all.”

Jacaerys put money on the counter, smiling he shook his head, “You’re amazing, never forget that.”

As you were going to give him a receipt, the lights turned off, the music coming to a stop. Your face held an expression of shock, “What the -“

If you took time to observe the situation you would have seen the way Aeron and Benjicot ran with keys in their hands, having locked the door shut, with the lights off — all the while giggling.

You sighed exhaustively, rubbing your eyebrow you looked at Jacaerys ashamed, “I’m sorry… might be a power outage. I’ll give you a receipt when you come around again.”

He waved it off, his eyes scanning around, “It’s okay. Do you need any help in here?”

You moved to the power grid hoping to fix the problem, shaking your head you responded, “No it’s okay, I’ve got it! Thank you Jacaerys.”

Jacaerys hesitated but he sighed inevitably, he had to yet again leave you. He moved towards the door finding it locked. He tugged the handle with more force finding it completely shut. Jacaerys opened his mouth to question why it was closed till he held you yelp loudly. He rushed towards you.

“What? What? Are you okay?!”

You hissed as you stuck your index finger in your mouth to help relief your finger of the sting. Wincing you looked at Jacaerys whose eyes looked panicked, worried.

“Just got zapped by the electricity I’m guessing.”

Jacaerys pulled you away from the power box, “I think you shouldn’t touch it anymore, and just wait till a professional comes to check it.”

You sighed, slightly pouting, “I can’t stay without power…”

He looked down your lips, tempted to place a kiss on them. He breathed deep through his nose to avoid thinking of you that way. He had to take it slow.

“Jacaerys?”

Jacaerys hummed, his hand covering your injured fingers, playing with your soft hands unintentionally. You did not find it weird but rather inviting, you enjoyed heavily his touch on yours and you wanted the feeling to be permanently, but you did not want to scare him away. You shyly muttered under your breath.

“Why are you still here?”

He looked at you calmly, he scratched his eyebrow, pushing his glasses upwards, “The door is locked.”

“It can’t be I don’t have the keys… Benjicot took them.”

Jacaerys shrugged, "Well... the door is locked and there's no way out I'm guessing?"

You groaned loudly; this day could have never been worse than it was already. You were very scared to be this close to Jacaerys, you did not want to explore the feelings you felt for him. The feeling was euphoric and wholesome, and it made you listen to love songs and automatically think of his caramel auburn eyes that reminded you of fall. What made this whole situation more terrifying was the possibility of your feelings not being reciprocated.

Boyfriends, love in general never ended well with you. It was rather disastrous, being reminded of your ex who Benjicot broke his nose so bad he had to get surgery to fix the broken bones. You winced rethinking your experience with your ex-lover.

However, that made you appreciate the friendship you had with Benji, he protected you where you couldn't, he was your shoulder, your shield, and most definitely your soulmate in the form of a best friend. Having his friendship never had you lonely, and with him came Aeron, who you would never trade for anything in the world.

Aeron was your calm, your best friend who took you on car rides and cried with you to songs on the radio or songs that you connected with the aux. Aeron was the one who took you in his arms and held you until your system was relieved of all the pain and stress it had going on. While Benji was the vengeful one, Aeron was the one that said, "karma always comes back to kick ass."

You took Jacaerys into your small office, which was decorated with small plants, your office was warm, the small rays of light from what winter greedily would give as compensation for the cold.

"I'm sorry it's messy, I usually don't have time to clean in here," you moved some of the files out of the couch you had inside your office.

Jacaerys took the time to observe the space, it matched you. It was soft, loving, and warm, as were you. He felt a pride surge him, he got to know another piece of you without trying. You loved working and you were independent. You liked to have your own space and to be alone at times.

"It's alright, I don't mind," he said as he went around to look at the photos you had around the room.

He stopped to look at the photos of you and your parents, to the photo when you first opened your shop. He looked at your smile, the way it lit your entire face making it more ethereal, the way your eyes crinkled full of youth and innocence. The relationship you had with your best friend was special and if he was to compare, he would automatically think of his relationship with Cregan.

Another trait of yours, he captured. You were devoted. You loved hard and with your entire being.

He huffed a small laugh as a loving grin splattered on his face, his heart couldn't have picked a better person to be protected with.

He heard you talk in hushed whispers through the phone, whoever it was, he figured had you stressed as you tugged your hair back in a chunk hold. He felt the urge to run his hands through your hair, to soothe your worries. He made himself comfortable on the couch as he watched you pace back and forth.

"Ben, you come in here right now!" You whispered harshly hearing the small giggle he released, Aeron in the back was giggling heavily.

"Confess, ask him on a date, and stop the constant back-and-forth flirting you guys have every time he comes in," Benji said as Aeron yelled over him.

"There's no way a guy would buy his family flowers EVERY week, either the guy is planting a whole damn garden for Landing's townsfolk or he's actually insane."

You peeked at the said man, your heart giving a short stop when you realized he was already staring at you, his face gave no emotion but his eyes, he was observing you, taking every detail of you in.

You cleared your throat, "C-can you give me a minute?"

Jacaerys noticed your stance became hesitant compared to the confidence you always had. He stood slowly, "Yeah, of course."

As soon as he closed the door behind him, you watched as he leaned by the window of your office, his eyes scanning around again. You shook your head stopping yourself from gawking at him as you turned towards the call again.

"You have 10 minutes to get over here and give me my power back as well opening the door!"

Benji snorted, "And you have 10 minutes to get your shit together and ask him out, he seems like a nice guy, weird but he matches you."

You began to protest as you heard Aeron in the background again, the voice bringing you calamity as usual, "He likes you. No other guy would spend $40-$60 every week for flowers, it's like Ben said, either he's insane or he's planting a garden for the town to see."

You sighed loudly, your eyes following the male outside your office, the sound of your heart thumping loudly through your eardrums. Jacaerys was odd, but he was dedicated, he was funny, kind, and clumsy but something inside you wanted to know every layer that made him who he is now. You wanted to run your hands into his curls, to have him wrap his muscular arms around you, to kiss those pink plump lips of his.

He spoke very little of his chaotic family, and you wanted to know more. He was loyal and dedicated, he was soft-spoken, and he had a heart so big that only spoke wonders of his family. For once, you wanted to know if the harmony of your heart could match his, if for once the quietness of your home could be filled with his laughter and random chattering.

"I'm scared," you whispered to your best friends who chuckled simultaneously.

"You are ready, your heart is ready, allow it to be loved. Take it slow, at your pace, he seems the guy that would do anything to see you happy. Before you ask, I approve, I will just let him know that if he fucks up, I will beat the shit out of him," Benji warned through the phone.

You could not see, but if you did, you would have seen the way Aeron slapped his boyfriend's head to Benji whining before leaning down slightly to kiss his boyfriend's lips.

"Okay," you chewed on your bottom lip nervously.

Aeron encouraged you, "Anyone would be happy to have you in their life, if I wasn't gay and dating this big loser next to me, I would have fought to have you."

You laughed as you heard Benji exclaim a loud, "Hey!"

Aeron continued, "We will be there soon, we're actually in the cafe next door, so we will be there. But y/n?"

You were distracted as you locked eyes with Jacaerys who never took his gaze from you. Blinking with flush cheeks you answered with a waver in your voice, almost in a soft squeak, "Yeah?"

"Try. Allow yourself to be happy and to share your adventures with another that isn't us okay?"

You did not give him another answer as you hung up the phone, you took a deep breath and walked confidently toward the taller male. Opening the door, you leaned against it as you spoke lightly your eyes never leaving his, "Benji, my best friend will come in a second."

Jacaerys nodded softly, not speaking a word as he continued to see you.

"What do you do with all those flowers you get every week?" you boldly asked him; you licked your bottom lip as you slowly bit into it. Jacaerys went from your eyes to your lips, a carnage urge rising.

Jacaerys had two options, either he lies, or confess his true intentions. Cregan over a round of drinks on a Saturday night teased him as to why he was suddenly reading books about flowers and their significance. He avoided your deep stare for a second before he confidently turned towards you.

"I keep them, as for some, I actually do give them to my family members. By the way, they love the special touches you add to every single bouquet."

"So, every bouquet is for a different family member?"

He hesitated, "Uh..." the tips of his ears turned red, his fingers beginning to twitch, "Yeah?" He answered unsure how to answer the question.

You nodded, not believing him. You recalled Aeron's words about Jacaerys and how no man would ever put effort into buying flowers for every member of their family.

"As we wait, I can prepare you the flower bouquet for your um..." You paused, testing the waters, "I forgot, for who was it again? What was the occasion?"

Jacaerys is oblivious to the test you are giving him, "My sister! She loves flowers, so anything I know she would love them."

Your nose crinkled as you held your laugh, gotcha.

"You're a good man Jacaerys."

He beamed, his cheeks blooming to the regular red color you have fallen for.

Aeron and Benjicot had arrived at the shop, they were each sporting little mischievous smiles. You only shook your head at them, they walked into your office shouting a small hello to Jacaerys who took a step back at the glare Benjicot was giving him as he looked at him through the window of your office.

You wrapped two bouquets this time, Jacaerys was confused.

"Y/n?"

"Yes, Jace?"

"Why are there two flower bouquets?"

You were in the middle of writing a note before placing it inside of the bigger bouquet. Your stomach was turning itself inside out as you took a small breath in before locking eyes with the boy that now lived in your dreams, making you wake up every morning in hopes of seeing him stumble through your door.

"This one is for your sister," You chuckled thinking how you caught him in the middle of his excuses, "... And this one is for you. A gift of a sort, for coming in and purchasing from me."

"Y/n, I can't accept this, let me pay you for it," he was talking so fast you laughed, stopping his hand that struggled to get his wallet to pull out his card.

"You can and you will," you affirmed as you pushed the bouquets into his hands, his eyes looked as if it was ready to fall off his sockets.

"I uh-I uh, uh, uh," he stuttered to the point he almost fell straight into the flower shelf behind him.

Laughing you held him by the elbow, "It's okay. Take it as a token from me please?"

Aeron and Benjicot were having the time of their lives, laughing loudly behind the closed door of your office. This was better than watching a sit-com at home.

"Okay, okay," he muttered, grabbing the flowers, he walked hesitantly towards the door.

You walked him out, and as both of you welcomed the chill cloudy day, both of your noses began to blossom with frost, and your insides never felt warmer.

"Take care, Jace."

His name never sounded heavenly than your mouth, he wanted to surround himself with your warmth. He wanted to gather you in his arms and press a deep kiss that left you breathless. Slowly, time will have him holding you in his arms as he proudly pronounced everywhere how lucky he was.

He turned towards you, shyly, with a small voice asking, "Can... Can I hug you?"

You did not hesitate to slightly move your head up and down, and it was as if the world stopped rotating. If this was how heaven felt like, you would live in peace. He was calm, and you were erratic, it was like the moon hugged the sun and made an explosion to loud and beautiful. Two different souls combine together.

You hugged him tightly, smelling the fresh scent of lavender, and fresh laundry, with a touch of cologne that almost made you bury your face into his chest. As for Jacaerys, he held you closely, burying his face into the crook of your neck, smelling the floral scent with a touch of vanilla. Almost, like a small whisp, a soft sound of relief came out of his lips. He was the happiest man in the world.

You both let go with an intention that you never wanted to let go.

Jacaerys smiled with a new touch, it brought you to smile back at him, both of your hearts connected in a way that neither of you was scared to explore what beautiful harmonies it would create.

Unwillingly, a string that wrapped both of your fingers together, separated. You knew that he would return, and till then, you hoped with an open heart ready to love, you'd be expecting him.

༻❁༺

As he gave Baela her bouquet, his smile never left his face. Baela looked confused as to why Jacaerys would give her flowers.

"Uh, Jace? What's the occasion? Am I dying?"

Rhaena laughed, "Relax sister, Jace has been giving everyone flowers as of late."

Baela raised an eyebrow, a confused look still on her face, "Um? Why?"

Jacaerys held onto his bouquet until he spotted the cream envelope stuck between the flowers. Rhaenyra who watched her children debate why Jacaerys was suddenly a flower boy, smiled internally, her boy was too adorable.

He ran up to his mother, gave her a kiss on her cheek, rushed to say goodbye to everyone, and jumped into his car to drive back home.

Luke sneezed, "I don't know about you all, but this corny version of my brother and him constantly smelling like flowers is making me feel so... grossed out."

Rhaenyra tsked, "Wait until you find a partner that will make you become a fool, then we can talk about being gross darling."

Baela shrugged, "I truly don't care however I will say, whoever got his heart in twists and turns, makes the most beautiful arrangements and I want more. He better not fuck this up."

Rhaenyra hissed as small Viserys yelped out a small 'duck'.

"Baela! Language!"

༻❁༺

Cregan was sitting by the couch, a can of beer in his hand as he calmy watched the sports channel. Jacaerys quickly opened the door, slamming it shut as he ran down the hallway into his room, the bouquet of bright, pretty flowers in his arms left a flowery scent in the room.

Cregan eyed his best friend in confusion, before he sneezed, "Oh for god's sake Jace!"

All he got in return was a loud, "Sorry man!"

Cregan only muttered to himself, finding himself eyeing all of the floral arrangements around the sitting area. He shook his head, snorting.

༻❁༺

Jacaerys sat by his bed, the flowers now sat in a vase by his bed. In his hands sat the cream envelope that he was too afraid to open.

"C'mon Jace, open it."

With trembling fingers he opened the envelope, your nice cursive writing welcomed him, and immediately he began to smile widely. As his eyes scanned the words you wrote, his eyes began to look at the arrangement you had given him. His heart never felt this way, if he could give you the world, he would gladly do it, some way. You were the best flower of all the garden, and by the gods, he loved you.

The note that you made held a phone number, and with a small note that explained your heart best, had Jacaerys throw himself onto the bed, all the while screaming a loud 'YES!"

Flowers are meant to describe what we feel, and every flower has a meaning and a reason why we gift them. And for you, I feel so many things that it is impossible to choose what flower fits you. If you get a chance, find the meaning of the flowers and then come find me.

PS: Next time, remember what excuse you came up with to get flowers, you're a terrible liar. with so much adoration, Y/n.

As Jacaerys rolled around in his bed with a big smile on his face and small laughs escaping his mouth, the flower arrangement you made blossomed, finding a home in a chilled season. Lilies, Lilacs, with bright Camellias sat on his desk with a confession of love from you who waited patiently for him to crack your code.

#jacaerys velaryon #𓇼 nattie's works #house of the dragon #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x you #jace targaryen #jacaerys targaryen x reader #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #davos x aeron #modern!jace #modern au

734 notes · View notes

bunny584 · 7 months

Text

OBSESSED: FUSHIGURO

A/N: OH. MY. GOD. Anon. I love you and hate you for this request. This was…hard. I told myself I wouldn’t publish it unless it was fucking perfect (you should see the scalpels I took to each goddamn sentence before this version).

SECOND: I will square up with Gege for writing the most enigmatic, LAYERED, complex, muddled character to exist. I wanted this to be Megumi. Through and through. His darkness, his light, his reservation, his crazy, all in one. And IDK. I think I did it? This one is purely to prove to myself that I can write for characters that are hard to write for (*cough* yuta im glaring at you *cough*)

THIRD: if you do read this (I get people feel things about aged up characters etc), I implore you to listen to this. Guys. I heard this at 0200 IN THE OR during a 6 hour case and the entire concept for this came to me. Meg is sophisticated and unruly, selfless and selfish, etc. So this has some NSFW but definitely probably more on the poetic, long ends of my works.

CW: Aged up characters (20+), college AU, fluffy/raunchy/dark romance-y because LOOK at him. He takes after Gojo AND Toji. Mature, 18+

“You like it when I’m rough.”

Megumi’s melody rings crystal clear.

Low.

Precise.

An F-14 Tomcat fighter jet, flying dark. Below enemy radar.

The piano keys float beneath his tone. His long, slender, deft fingers effortlessly execute the sheet music before him. It’s his GPS system, a personal flight map.

Little Beethoven, his advanced music theory professor calls him.

Truth is, Megumi is a prolific pianist and vocalist. He can tame any note, any melody, any harmony faster than any of his Shikigami.

Speaking of…

Megumi pulls off the piano and tortured love song in an instant. Just as the grade 3 curse creeps through the open door.

The part between his right long and ring fingers is automatic. His left hand grips the web space between his right thumb and index finger.

“Demon dog.” Megumi summons.

Low. Precise. Decisive.

“Eat it, boy.”

A small, approving smile tugs on the corners of his lips. Low level curses are the nothing more than chew toys to his divine dogs. With a tiny wave of his fingers, his technique buzzes inward.

Megumi’s eyes float to the ancient analog clock on the wall.

13:50

10 more minutes until you’ll meet him for your date.

No. Not date.

Study. 10 more minutes until you’re meeting him to study.

Your thought blooms within him like wildfire. It sets his normally cool, porcelain skin ablaze.

Megumi whips his body around to face the piano. To exorcise the feeling. The keyboard has always been his outlet. His life blood. Playing, singing, musing in and out of written songs is his catharsis.

Words don’t come easy. They never have. But lyrics do.

And when he gets to ride lyrics with his voice, his runs..?

The words he can never find on his own are suddenly out there. In the atmosphere. Coating empty rooms in a mist of his thoughts, his feelings.

No certain promise that the person the words are destined for will ever catch them. Or ever walk through the room and be kissed by the remnants of his musical trail. But Megumi has said (sung, played) them. And that’s enough.

“Sorry if I come across a type of way.”

“I’ve been trying to get out of my way…”

His fingers dive into the keys. Angrily. Earnestly.

“I know it doesn’t seem like I care, but you know I care—“

“Wow Meg, you sound incredible.”

You bring him to an abrupt stop. Your voice is maple syrup trailing down Megumi’s neck, leaving goosebumps in its candied wake.

Pitch fucking perfect.

A soft, ethereal C, gliding down Heaven’s staircase. You infuse sunlight into his name, whichever way you choose to say it.

And it’s hell. It’s cruel. To have as keen hearing as he does. To listen to you sing his name and have nothing else follow.

“Fushiguro.” Megumi shoots up from his seat, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

“What?”

“Fushiguro.” He repeats, eyes briefly meeting yours before settling above your head. He’s at least a head and shoulders taller.

“Nobody calls me Meg.”

You throw your head back. Feather light crescendo in your laughter. It’s pretty. Tantalizing in the way chandeliers twinkle when they capture a beam of light.

His eyes dart down to catch the feminine column of your neck. Curving into your delicate collar bones. How are your lines so seamless?

So cinematic. Like he’s watching a figure skater land a triple axel. Or a prima ballerina en pointe. It’s not fathomable.

Gorgeous.

You are gorgeous.

“I call you Meg.” You retort with a smile that liquifies all of his joints.

You double your walking speed to keep pace with Megumi’s long strides. Both of you exit the sound engineering building. Heading straight for the campus library a couple blocks away.

“Who were you—oh,” Megumi’s glacial hand along the small of your back steals your voice away.

Your eyes and feet follow his gentle push, shifting you to the other side of him.

“Walking on the wrong side.” He mutters, monotone. Matter-of-fact. Obviously.

He’s a gentleman. Of course he is going to walk on the traffic facing edge of the sidewalk.

Of course he didn’t feel the electric currents wire through his fingers to clench — suffocate — his heart.

No, he didn’t hear that punched out, falsetto gasp when his hand cradled your perfectly tapered waist.

Or notice how well you fit into his hand. How light you are under his touch that had none of his real strength behind it.

You’re made of alluring lines. Intoxicating sounds.

What would it take to coax a pretty melody out of your pouty lips?

His fingers?

They’re long. And smart. Cold. Remarkably patient. You’d like them.

He could make you love them.

Crave them. Need, whimper, whine, and cry out for them.

“So who was it?” You tether him to reality.

“Who was what?” Megumi counters, leading you to a private study room.

“The way you were singing earlier.”

Hairs along the back of his neck stand at attention. Blood runs Siberian cold. Megumi’s gaze on you is subzero.

“It had to be for someone.” You lower down into a seat in slow motion.

The sweetheart neckline of your sundress is mean. Your supple mounds tilt and ripple with every micro movement. Megumi has forgotten why he’s glaring at you.

“You sound too…pretty. It can’t be wasted on thin air.” You continue.

“She must be—“

“Let’s just get started, okay?” He sharply redirects the conversation.

And promptly shifts gear to low autopilot. He’ll speak when spoken to, answer questions intermittently. But his mind’s true coordinates are a galaxy away.

Megumi retreats to his shadow garden.

Watching you.

Drinking you in.

Savoring each detail on his tastebuds like dessert.

The pencil eraser leaves an indent on your bottom lip where you’ve been pressing too hard.

Megumi wants to roll your bottom lip under his teeth. Until it flushes rose and swells beneath his relentless pull.

His eyes fall to your bracelet, far too big for your dainty wrist.

He could hold both of your wrists in one hand above your head or behind your back for hours. Without breaking a sweat.

His other hand would take its time.

To stroke you. Pet you. Learn your sheet music. Then play your body like a harp until you’re a chorus of beautiful, soprano whimpers and moans. Begging and pleading so prettily, enticing him to give in.

But he won’t.

Not until you’re soft enough. A babbling, warm, ruined brook beneath his fingers.

Then he’ll take you, gorgeous.

Searing pain from his sharp swallow and nails digging into his thighs rip him down to the present.

Vision a little fuzzy. Head a revolving door of vulgar scenarios. A dull, demanding ache between his legs draws his eyes to his lap.

Fucking hell.

His jeans are uncomfortable. He’s stiff and needy. Not nearly enough strength in his pants to hold back his drunken arousal.

Not to the mention, the—

swarm of shadows growing at his feet?

Is his…innate domain materializing around him right now?

Megumi aggressively slices through the air at his hip level. Below the table, but you don’t miss his sudden stirring.

“Meg? You okay over—“

“Going to the bathroom.” He gruffs through a clenched jaw. Megumi places his forearm over his crotch before hurrying out of the room.

He can barely recognize the man in the mirror. Flushed to his ears. Volcanoes threatening eruption in his eyes. Api Biru. Pure, triple distilled, blue lava coursing through his veins.

Snap out of it, Fushiguro.

The splash of cold water does nothing for his internal heat. But his milky complexion returns to its effervescent state.

But then he turns a little too quickly to leave. And his painfully hard length drags along his fabric. It’s blinding.

A feeble moan tumbles out of his tight lips.

“Fuck.”

Megumi slams his eyes shut. He needs to readjust. But if he touches himself now, he might not be able to stop.

A slow, steadying breath fills his lungs.

“Just adjust, don’t…” His voice trails off. Icey fingers around his hot, angry base is enough to rip the carpet from beneath his feet.

“Oh, fuck.” Megumi mumbles through one quick pump up his shaft.

He shakes his head as if to tell himself enough. He rests his erection along his thigh before zipping up. Still painful, but tolerable.

A tornado obliterates any remaining resolve in Megumi’s mind on his walk back to you.

You are a dream.

Or a nightmare? A curse?

It doesn’t matter. He couldn’t care less.

Megumi would follow you. Deeper than the crypts of his 10 shadows. Into hell if it meant he could have you the way he wants you.

The way he craves you.

Because fuck the cost.

He’d pay anything.

You’re working on an elaborate concept diagram on the white board. On the tip of your toes. Lip curled under your teeth. And you are just irresistible.

So, he won’t resist.

“Meg! Took you a bit, you okay?”

Megumi is silent. Unblinking. Sauntering toward you.

“Megumi?”

You lower to the soles of your shoes. Neck craning to look at his face. Your eyes widen at his persistent silence. Rosy heat dusting your cheeks.

Pretty little doe, rooted in place by his wolfish glare.

Megumi takes the marker out of your hand and tosses it behind him in one swift motion.

“Hmm,” a tiny acknowledgment of his name. Just because it sounds so sweet rolling off your tongue.

Megumi corners you against the wall. Both of his hands casually in his pockets.

He watches you shift. Flicker your eyes in every direction. Fiddle with your thumbs.

His quiet.

His presence.

It flusters you. Well before he’s gotten the chance to run his hands along the lazy curve of your waist and hips.

“So…so blue.” You stammer. Your warm eyes metronome between his.

“They are.”

Megumi steps impossibly closer. His eyes drop to your chest. Dainty, nervous heaves. Up and down. Up and down.

“You are so,” you swallow thickly, dropping your gaze. “hard to read.”

Megumi snakes his large, graceful fingers into your nape. The temperature difference between your warmth and his cold startles you deeper into his grasp. Your head evanesces into his pull.

A beautiful, shocked gasp escapes you. Just as Megumi’s lips trace the shell of your ear.

“I want you.”

His breaths collide with yours, now. Heat welling deep in his groin. His cock thunders against his thigh.

“Can you read that?” Megumi rasps. Ensuring his voice vibrates down your spine.

A new sound tumbles from your lips. Like you choked on your last swallow. How pretty. You gurgling and gagging like that.

“W-want me? Megumi wh—“

“I.” Megumi nudges his thigh between your legs. His steel pipe erection digs into your dewy, hot core. He angles his leg slightly upward, inching you on the tip of your toes.

His prima ballerina, en pointe.

“Want you.” His lips ghost against yours. Free hand cups the flesh beneath your thigh. Pads of his fingers twitching to dig in.

The two of you drink in this lock-in-key fit. Megumi revels in you. Like this. At his complete mercy.

The prodigal son, born with more power than he knows what to do with.

Ten shadows. Ten Shikigami. It’s been centuries since the last head of his bloodline had power buzzing beneath his fingertips like him.

And somehow he’s never felt more powerful than this.

With you, heaven’s most precious angel, cradled in his arms. Drowning in sinful ecstasy. He brands this freeze frame into the most permanent part of his memory.

Then, he free falls off your cliff edge.

Megumi takes your lips with unfettered greed. Hunger woven into the way his tongue traces every corner of your delectable, soft mouth. His fingers push your head deeper into him. Sucking and nibbling on your warm muscle.

You shower him with airy, choppy little pants. Moans and whines so light they crescendo to fairy dust. You can’t keep up with his bruising kiss. His other hand palms your thigh, kneading little bruises into your silky smooth skin.

Marking what’s his.

“Oh my god.”

You breathe into his mouth when he lets you up for air. Megumi’s eyes dart down to the meeting point of your sex and his muscular thigh.

Did you really think he wouldn’t notice how you’re rutting your pretty little cunt against his leg like that?

Crimson high on your cheeks. You look away when he tries to catch your fucked out gaze.

“Don’t hide from me, gorgeous.” His hand traces up to your hips. You preen into his firm grip.

“Megumi.”

“Don’t stop, pretty girl.” He forcefully moves your hips in more dramatic, languid, deep rolls against his thigh. He’s not paying any mind to the pool of his precum soaking through his pants.

You bury your head in his neck. Fingernails digging pretty crescent moons into his back. You take over the pace. Undulating against him. Shameless. In complete heat.

“You feel s-so…so good.” Your lips smear against his dampened neck. Megumi responds by circling your puffy, slick bud with his fingers.

And fuck. The slurred, broken whimper that rings in his ears.

The way you hump him even more sloppily.

He could finish from that alone.

Your hand flies to your mouth. Empty huffs spilling. Whines ascending in pitch. You are close.

“Such pretty sounds, baby.”

“Megumi…meg..I-“

“Let it out.” He grips the back of your neck. Feeling dangerously close to his own nirvana. Drunk off your precious melody.

“Sing for me.”

“F-fuck, GOD.”

You bite down on his neck. Waves of pleasure crashing into you like hurricane winds. He grips your waist steady. Feeling every involuntary twitch and jerk of your doll-like frame.

Blessing or curse?

He doesn’t know.

But he will follow you to the end of his lifetime and the next.

“God, Fushiguro. That was…” The lusty haze from your peak settles around you. The once shattered world, slowly pieces itself back together.

“No.” Megumi pulls you out of his neck. Dropping his lips to yours, so he can breathe the air directly from your lungs.

“Meg. You call me Meg.”

1K notes · View notes

joelalorian · 6 months

Text

Fall Into Me

dbf!Joel x f!reader

The first TLOU fic I ever read was a dbf!Joel story and it left an indelible mark on my soul. Unfortunately, I never bookmarked it so I have no idea which one it was. It's only natural that I had to try my hand at one at some point. So, here we are.

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 4.1k

Series Warnings: Mature to start, but will ultimately be Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. There will be angst, drama, fluff, humor, romance, smut... basically, the works. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname from her dad, which will be explained at some point.

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Chapter One: The Day That I Met You

If you asked him over a decade ago where he’d be now, Joel Miller would not have placed himself as a single father to a tenacious pre-teen desperately trying to keep things afloat. He spent too many hours in the week working to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. He would be lost without the help of his brother and the few friends he had. He had no social life to speak of and could not for the life of him remember the last time he went on an actual date.

No, back then, Joel thought he’d be living the good life in ten years’ time – traveling, going out with the boys, maybe have a girlfriend or wife. Basically, just getting to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Don’t get him wrong, though. He was still living a good life; it just was a different sort of good than what he hoped for back in the day.

He loved his daughter with every fiber of his being. Sarah was the best damn thing that ever happened to him, his entire world, and he wouldn’t change the past ten years for anything. He bent over backwards doing whatever it took to make his little girl feel cared for, happy, and loved. He just wished there was a little energy left for something for himself at the end of the day.

Joel Miller was drained. Mentally, physically, and emotionally.

He awoke with a groan as the bright sunlight broke through the gap in his curtains. It was Saturday – his birthday – and he hoped to sleep in, at least a little. Between the brightness of the morning and the stifled sounds of clanging pans and voices carrying up the stairs from his kitchen, sleeping in was not happening.

He hauled himself out of bed with a groan worthy of a man twenty years his senior and stretched out his limbs to ease the achiness in his bare back and chest from too much manual labor. Throwing on a pair of well-worn sleep pants and a faded tee shirt, Joel slipped from his bedroom and down the stairs. He moved rather quietly for a man of his size, stealing a moment to lean against the entryway into the kitchen and watch as Sarah and Tommy worked together making breakfast.

The counters were a mess of spilled pancake mix, eggshells, and… was that coffee dripping over the edge and onto the floor? It was a toss-up on who made the bigger mess, his ten-year-old daughter, or his grown ass brother. Still, Joel could not stop the smile spreading across his face as he watched them laughing and teasing each other. That, right there, was the reason he worked so hard, why the loneliness was worth it.

When Tommy flipped the stovetop off, Sarah turned to find her dad smiling goofily at them. “Happy Birthday, Dad!” she exclaimed, launching herself at his chest. Her lanky arms wrapped around his neck as he lifted her off the ground in a big bear hug.

“Thanks, baby girl,” Joel replied, pressing his lips to her forehead in a quick kiss before he settled her feet on the ground.

“We made you breakfast!” Sarah declared, gesturing toward the disaster zone formerly known as his kitchen.

“I see that,” he chuckled, voice still slightly rough with sleep.

Tommy turned with a smirk, hands grasping two plates filled with bacon, eggs, and pancakes. “Take a seat, brother. Let us take care of you on your birthday.” Placing the food on the small dining table, Tommy roughly patted his brother’s shoulders. “Don’t worry ‘bout the mess, I’m on cleanup duty after we eat.”

“We expectin’ company? That’s a helluva lot of food,” Joel grumbled. He needed coffee, stat.

“Yeah, JB is comin’ over to see ya before heading to the airport. His daughter finished grad school over the summer and is moving back home.” Tommy set more food and a full mug of dark roast coffee in front of his brother. The scent alone made Joel perk up a little.

The Millers hadn’t met you yet, having only become friends with your dad through work after you’d already left for college on the east coast. Your dad had a good decade on Joel, but he and the Miller brothers got on like a forest fire from what he told you. With visits home always short and rushed, busy catching up with family and your own friends, there was never time for your dad to introduce you all. Now you were coming home for good and would have plentiful opportunities for spending time with your dad and his friends.

“Speak of the devil,” Tommy muttered as the doorbell rang. Sarah bounded to the door to greet your dad with a hug. In many ways, the girl reminded him of you when you were young, and it always brought a smile to his face.

“There he is! The man of the hour. Happy Birthday, buddy!” Your dad, John, or JB as the Millers called him, ruffled Joel’s already mussed hair, leaving a few locks standing straight up in further disarray. Pulling a 12-pack of beer from behind his back, your dad set it on the table in front of Joel, topped with a little red bow. “I gotcha a lil’ something to celebrate.”

“Good man,” Joel replied with a chuckle. “Have a seat and help me eat all this. Tommy just told me your lil’ girl is coming home, finally.”

Your dad’s face lit up even more at the mention of you coming home. “She’s not so little anymore, but I sure am glad she’s moving back here. Said she had enough of the east coast, but I think she just missed her ol’ man.” After wolfing down some food, he added, “Think we could host a small barbecue here this coming weekend to celebrate? Your backyard is way nicer than mine and you got the pool and all.”

“Not to mention that fancy ass grill,” Tommy chimed in.

Swallowing a long sip of his morning go juice, Joel nodded. “Of course. Invite whoever you want. I’m looking forward to finally meeting your daughter.”

“Me too!” Sarah added. She heard a lot about you from your dad and hoped you were as cool in person as he made you out to be.

Joel’s mind started spinning upon hearing his daughter’s excitement. With her school hours being so different from his typical work hours, he was spending a small fortune on after school care for Sarah. She was still too young for him to leave home alone, especially on those days where he’s stuck late at a job. He was barely scraping by as it was and couldn’t really afford the cost of after school programs. Perhaps…

“JB, ya think your daughter would mind watching Sarah during the week while she’s home. Drop off and pick up from school and keeping her company ‘til I get home from work? I could pay her – it wouldn’t be much, but better than nothin’, I imagine.” He watched Sarah’s eyes light up at the suggestion and knew it was a good choice.

“I’m sure she’d love to. She wasn’t planning on finding a real job until after the holidays, so I know she’ll be free during the day,” your dad replied. “I’ll talk to her about it on the ride back from the airport and let you know.”

Three suitcases and a carry-on bag. That’s all you had left from six and a half years of pursuing higher education in North Carolina. You sold or gave away anything that did not fit into your luggage or hold sentimental value of your time away. Now, you were moving back home to save some money before you had to start chipping away at the mountain of student loan debt you accrued.

You loved learning, always have, but you were relieved to be done with school. Equipped with a bachelor’s degree in earth sciences and a master’s in education, you felt like a real adult ready to take the world of middle school by storm… well, starting after the new year, maybe. For now, you needed several months of limited to no responsibility to recoup your mental and physical energy. That last couple years of school really burned you out. Not to mention the last-minute rejection of a teaching position you thought was in the bag…

Anyway, you were better off leaving North Carolina behind and returning to Austin. You missed your dad something fierce and his particular brand of caring for you was exactly what your weary soul needed. It was you and him against the world, just like when you were a kid.

You flight was smooth and uneventful, yet you were relieved to deboard the plane. Something about being stuck in a tin can at the mercy of someone else’s ability to keep the thing from plummeting to the ground really aggravated your anxiety. Flying was something you would never enjoy; it was merely a means to an end when you wanted to travel long distances.

The journey to baggage claim was a slog with the crowd of passengers all heading to the same place. You were wondering how you’d wrangle three large suitcases by yourself when you caught sight of your dad. His broad smile took over his face when he spotted you, rushing over to sweep you up in a big bear hug.

“Hey Spud, how was the flight?” he asked as you waited for the baggage carousel to begin moving. “Looks like it was a full plane.”

“It was, but the flight was good. I’m really glad to be home.”

“Me, too, kid.”

You settled into a comfortable silence, watching various pieces of luggage pass by on the carousel. Your bags were scattered, and you had to wait several cycles to get all of them. Your dad lugged the final suitcase over the carousel with a grunt. “Jesus, what you got in this one? Bricks? A body?”

“That one has my gaming system and half a closet full of clothes,” you replied with a laugh.

Before long, everything was loaded into your dad’s truck, and you were heading back towards town. The radio hummed at a low volume as you both chatted about everything and nothing all at once.

“Hey, so I know you said you weren’t looking for full-time work until after the new year, but I have a proposition for you.” Your dad’s eyes stayed focused on the road, and you merely quirked a brow waiting for him to continue. “My buddy Joel – you know the one I told you about? Well, his daughter is ten and he needs some help with the school run and after school care. Our work hours aren’t exactly the same as elementary school, you know?”

You nodded, remembering all the times your dad spoke to you about Joel, as well as his daughter and brother. Despite never meeting them, you felt like you already knew their whole life story. “So, he’s looking for a nanny or something? I could do that. It would keep me from getting lazy while I navigate getting my Texas teaching certificate.”

Your dad grinned, one hand patting your leg. “I was hoping you’d say that. Joel will pay you, of course, but just… don’t expect much. It ain’t easy for him being a single dad trying to keep everything afloat.”

Again, you nodded, a soft smile creasing your lips. You knew all too well how challenging it could be for single parents, having grown up with just you and your dad. Much like what your dad told you about Joel’s experience with the mother of his child, your mom split when you were barely a toddler. Things weren’t always sunshine and roses, but your dad sure did his best to make sure you had a great life. Honestly, you wouldn’t trade it for the world, that life with your dad. You had a feeling it was much the same for Joel and his daughter.

“I’m happy to help, even if he doesn’t pay me. I’m sure his daughter will enjoy having a female influence in her life if nothing else. What’s her name again? Sarah?”

Your dad’s eyes twinkled with pride. “Yup, that’s it. I’m proud of the woman you’ve become, Spud.”

A mist of tears prickled your eyes as you mumbled out a “Thanks, dad.” After a beat, you added, “Must you keep up with that nickname?”

“Of course. You’ll always be my little Spud,” he laughed as you rolled your eyes. “Oh, by the way, we’re going to the Millers on Saturday for your welcome home party.”

“What’s all this?” Joel questioned as Tommy and Sarah placed a heavy, wrapped package on the table before him along with a few smaller presents. The remains of a birthday cake sat nearby, having been delightfully devoured by the Millers while celebrating Joel’s birthday.

“Just a little somethin’ from me and Sarah,” Tommy replied, a boyish grin alighting his handsome features.

Joel gazed between them with curiosity. Not big on celebrating his own aging, he rarely got big gifts. “You wanna help me open this, nugget?” Sarah’s eyes lit up, small hands reaching to tear the wrapping paper into shreds. It only took a few moments for the contents to be revealed, leaving Joel confused at the modern contraption sitting in front of him. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“You play video games on it, dumbass.” Tommy harumphed as he began a diatribe on the features of the gaming system – he had one just like it at his place and it provided hours of entertainment when he didn’t feel like going out. “I figured it would be a good hobby for you since you never want to join me in going out.”

“Huh,” Joel grunted in return, brows furrowed as he read the instructions on how to setup up the machine. His attention was diverted by Sarah shoving the smaller parcels into his lap.

“Here, dad! These go with it.” Together, they tore into the wrapping paper to find several video games, a few of which were family friendly. The final gift was a spare controller for the gaming system so he and Sarah could play together.

Despite still being unsure that the gift was a good fit for him, Joel was grateful to Tommy for the effort. “This is too much, man. You shouldn’t spend this kind of money on me, Tommy.”

His brother waved him off. “I found a great deal and you never get anything for yourself, brother. You deserve something to indulge in. Believe me, you’ll have fun with this.”

The rest of the evening was spent with Tommy setting up the system and showing the father-daughter duo how to play some of the games he picked out. The living room filled with lots of laughter and teasing, and Joel found himself really getting into the fun of the video games.

After tucking Sarah into bed, Tommy showed Joel a game that was too violent for the little girl but entertaining for the men. The game was set in Washington DC which had been ravaged by a brutal pandemic and the main character was part of a group of agents fighting off nefarious gangs trying to take over the city. Joel caught onto the gameplay quickly and the two men found themselves building the loadout for Joel’s character, taking out bad guys, and chatting well into the night.

At two in the morning, the pair looked at each other with bleary, red-rimmed eyes and finally called it a night. Joel directed Tommy to crash in the spare room as he shuffled off to bed upstairs.

It didn’t take you long to get settled into your dad’s house. It wasn’t the home you grew up in and you only visited a few times after he bought it. After years living away on your own, you thought it would be an adjustment being under his roof again, but it wasn’t. He understood the need for personal space and never hovered unless you were hurt or sick. He gave you the downstairs bedroom – it was the largest in the house, with an ensuite bath and huge walk-in closet.

“Dad, no! Why in the world is this not your room?” you questioned when he placed your bags on the brand-new, king size bed he had delivered the week prior.

“Hell no, Spud. What do I need all this space for? I like the upstairs rooms better – the light is all wrong in this one anyway.”

You looked around, holding in a giggle. The room faced south, giving you just the right amount of natural light all day. That’s what your dad didn’t like. He preferred to live like a bat in a cave with blackout curtains and limited lighting.

“Alright, well, I love it. The natural light is perfect for me. I can actually put some plants on the windowsills. Thank you!” You kissed his cheek as he left you to get settled.

You spent the week rearranging the bedroom how you wanted it, setting up your gaming system, and putting all your clothes into the walk-in closet. Your dad hadn’t done much with the room other than furnish it, so you made a few trips to the store to get a bathroom set, floor lamps, and wall décor to make the room your own.

Before you knew it, Saturday morning dawned bright and warm. The day of your welcome home gathering arrived, and you would finally get to meet the Millers. An excited energy had you moving about your space in a flurry, tidying up and getting ready early. You’d seen some photos of the Millers that your dad sent you – Sarah was adorable with her dark, springy curls, and Joel… Joel was handsome, in a broody, overworked kind of way, with dark, riotous curls and big, warm chocolate eyes. Kind eyes, you called them.

“Hey Spud, you ready?” your dad called from the kitchen as you put the finishing touches on your hair. It was pinned up, leaving the smooth skin of your neck bare. The sundress you picked hugged your curves in just the right way, falling just at your knees in a flow of lightweight material. In early October, Austin was still hot, and you hoped the Millers’ yard was shaded.

“Bring a swimsuit! They have a pool!” he yelled as you grabbed the last of your things. Turning back to your closet, you grabbed a dark green one-piece suitable for family-friendly swimming and tucked it into your bag.

“I’m ready!”

Your dad smiled at the sight of you. “Let’s go then. We’re heading over early so you can officially meet the Millers and we’ll help them setup before everyone else arrives.”

“Sounds good. Who all’s coming anyway?” Your eyes widened as your dad rattled off a list of people he invited, including his work buddies and some of his and Joel’s neighbors. He would have invited some of your old friends from high school, but you all lost touch over the years. The party was turning out bigger than you thought. Your heart swelled with how happy your dad was to have you home for good.

The Millers lived in the same neighborhood, only a few blocks away, so close you could have walked if not for the scorching sun. The drive took only a few minutes before your dad pulled into the driveway of a two-story home similar to your dad’s, with simple landscaping and two wooden rocking chairs on the wide porch. Lovely and quaint, the house made you more curious about the people who lived there.

“Dayum! Get a load a JB’s daughter, Joel,” Tommy called from the living room, leaning over the couch to look out the front window. “She’s smokin’ hot!”

“Dammit, Tommy. Stop spying on ‘em,” Joel growled, sneaking a peek over his brother’s shoulder to do a little hypocritical spying of his own. Breath caught in his throat at the sight of you and he couldn’t break his gaze away, even as JB led you toward the front door.

“What was that about spyin’, brother?” Tommy teased, practically dragging Joel away from the window as a knock sounded against the door. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it.”

Tommy opened the heavy wooden door revealing the pair of you standing there, matching bright eyes and wide grins greeting him. “Well, hello there, beautiful. I’m Tommy.” Reaching a hand toward you, Tommy completely ignored JB, who just scowled at him.

“Nice to meet you, Tommy,” you replied, offering him your hand and name in return. Joel’s scowl matched your dad’s expression as Tommy held your hand for several beats too long.

“Back off, Tommy,” your dad grunted, swatting at the younger Miller brother. “This here is Tommy’s brother, Joel. The one who actually owns this house and the better Miller, if you ask me.”

“Ain’t no one askin’ you, old man,” Tommy’s smart mouth shot back at your dad.

Joel ignored both men, eyes like dark pools as he gazed at you, awed at how small and delicate your hand felt in his. “Howdy, darlin’,” his voice rumbled from his chest. “Come on in. There’s someone else lookin’ forward to meeting you.”

Leading the way through the kitchen into the backyard, Joel felt the heat of your gaze burning his back. Were you checking him out? There was no way. You were beautiful and likely in your early twenties. He felt ancient, though he was only in his early thirties, the hard labor of construction work having taken its toll on him.

“Hi Dad!” a young, sweet voice called from a small swing set where a precious little girl entertained herself. “Who’s this?”

Joel introduced you to his daughter, leaving the two of you to get acquainted as your dad called him away.

“You were away at college?” Sarah questioned, motioning for you to take a seat on the swing next to hers.

“I was,” you replied. “But I’m back for good now.”

“That’s good. What grade did you get to? I’m in fourth grade.”

You thought about it a moment. “I guess it would be 18th grade. But you stop counting grade numbers after 12th and start using different words to describe what year you’re in during college.”

Sarah listened raptly while you explained the different terms, what you studied in school, and what kind of job you were hoping to get.

“You want to be a teacher?” she asked, awed.

“I do! I want to teach middle grade science.”

“I love science! Maybe you could be my teacher when I get to sixth grade!”

Joel returned with your dad and Tommy in tow to find you and Sarah having a blast. The little girl sat in your lap as you kicked your feet out, swinging as high as you could, singing some camp song you remembered from your youth.

“See? Told ya she’d love to spend time with Sarah,” your dad said to Joel. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, staring at the two of you with a glazed look in his dark eyes.

Shaking himself off, Joel turned to your dad. “Guess I better work out some details with her.” He stepped over to the swing set, taking a seat on the empty swing and hoping to the heavens above that it held his weight. He struggled internally on how to start the conversation and was just about to blurt something out when his amazing daughter saved the day.

“Dad! She wants to be a teacher! A science teacher! Isn’t that cool? Did you ask her about watching me yet? I think she’d love to.” Sarah rambled on excitedly, amusing you and Joel. Turning to you before Joel could chime in, Sarah turned to you with baby cow eyes, adding, “You would love to, right?”

How could you ever resist that look? No one could. Both you and Joel were powerless as you nodded, and the offer became official. Cell numbers were exchanged and before you knew it, you had a job starting Monday.

Hours later, slightly drunk on spiked fruit punch and buzzing with energy, you thanked Joel for hosting the barbecue and giving you a job. You kissed his stubbled cheek, forcing thoughts of how attractive he was as far down as they could go. You could not develop a crush on your boss. “I’ll see you Monday morning, bright and early!” you declared before following your dad through the front door.

TBC

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #dbf!joel #Fall Into Me #pedro pascal #eventual smut #eventual romance

869 notes · View notes

twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 6 months

Text

DEAR SPRING, STAY FOREVER ; SATORU GOJO, SUGURU GETO, SHOKO IEIRI

synopsis; just another mellow breakfast shared between you and your partners. (you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of them.)

word count; 3.8k

contents; sashisu/reader (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, all of u are whipped, lots of petnames, literally just breakfast fluff, it ended up kinda sugucentric on accident (not my fault btw he just really loves making breakfast for u that’s on him), also ended up kinda sappy at the end (that’s on me), implied no curses au, they’re in their twenties but it isn’t specified, everyone is eepy and in love <33

a/n; a little breakfast fic bc i love mornings and i love them :33 (tagging my beloved sashisu soldiers @catchuuu @staryukis i am making breakfast for both of u btw ☕️🥞) pls listen to spring thief by yorushika it’s the most sashisu song ever

as always, suguru is the first of you to make it into the kitchen.

he’s humming. it’s soft, a low lull of his voice, beckoning you closer like the call of a siren. sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, fiddling with a pan, sizzling and simmering and breathing in the scent of pancakes; it pairs well with the espresso steam from the coffee pot to his right, the vase of hydrangeas by the windowsill.

it’s a sunny morning. the perfect setting for the start of your day, an atmosphere you can savour, like the gradual sipping of your soon-to-be morning cup of coffee. somewhere outside your vision comes a morning symphony, chirps and songs by cicadas and robins. splotches of sunlight splatter against the windows, the kitchen table, the floorboards — illuminating the man in front of the stove.

something in your chest constricts, when you look at him. a tenderness uprooted, a fondness watered and trimmed, a hungry plant only satiated at the sight of this; the back of his head, raven locks cascading down his broad shoulders in obsidian waves, hair put up into a lazy half-down bun. a little messy, a little too breathtaking for words. wearing a black turtleneck that hugs his waist just right.

you should be used to it, by now. suguru has always been an early bird, always the first to rouse from his slumber, only ever contended by shoko and her occasional bouts of sleep-deprivation. he’s always waiting for the three of you, just like this — in front of a sizzling pan, adjusting his glasses by the kitchen table, cooking or reading or simply reminiscing. content to stir in the peace and quiet of the morning hours, before the world wakes up.

and he’s always taken to preparing breakfast for the four of you, always ready to greet you with a smile and a cup of freshly made cappuccino. he enjoys taking care of you, all three of you. always has.

(it wasn’t any different back when you were kids. suguru was always the first one in the dormitory’s kitchen, messing with the rusty french press or making a grossly bitter smoothie for himself. he was snarkier, more roundabout — but no less thoughtful. grumpy little shoko would always get the last bitter pumps of espresso, and sleepy little satoru would get a french toast if he asked nicely enough. and you?

you got to see them, be with them. that alone would’ve been enough. the steaming cup of cappuccino left on the kitchen counter — a little too tailored to your taste to be a mere coincidence — was always nothing more than an added bonus.)

the soft humming falters, for no more than a beat or two. suguru shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and suddenly you can’t resist the temptation.

with clumsy steps, heavy feet weighed down by a sleepy sense of numbness, you stumble towards your target. it’s a familiar waltz, five steps to reach him, a warmth that spreads throughout your body in tandem with the curl of your arms around his waist. slumped against him, cheek squished against his upper back, you hold your breath.

silently, you wait. one, two, until you hear the familiar roll of his breath; a delighted little sigh that slips from his parted lips.

when suguru cranes his head to get a glimpse of you, his amber eyes are leaking adoration. a sense of liveliness, a joyous spark — like a firefly, the flicker of a rusty lighter. he looks well-rested, dark circles long faded, only the dimmest remnant of them still visible beneath his eyes.

he holds your gaze, steady and kind, and then he’s leaning forward; eager to press his lips against your waiting forehead. glasses slipping ever so slightly down the bridge of his nose. the kiss is chaste, familiar. warm, warm, a faint heat that simmers in your chest, a tiny firework of a feeling. even the metal of his piercing feels warm on your skin.

you melt into his spine, fingers searching for a pair of hands that find yours first — his thumb rubbing tender circles over your forearm. practiced, memorized, that familiar waltz of motions. he lingers against your skin, breathing in satoru’s favorite strawberry shampoo. you’ve been stealing it for weeks now.

suguru’s lips curl up into something amused, still not quite willing to part from you.

but then he does. turning towards the stove, reaching for the coffee pot with one hand, the other securing your own and lacing your fingers together. he gives them an affectionate squeeze, still resting on his lower stomach. a silent greeting that he always ends up voicing anyway.

”g’morning, love,” he croons, a little raspy, but sweet and nice. honeyed and deep, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. you hear him pour something into a cup. ”how did you sleep?”

all you can give him is a tired grunt, stretching your limbs out, blinking sluggishly to shoo away the drowsiness. suguru knows what to expect; he simply smiles, endeared, pouring steamed milk into your favorite cup. with a clink of his spoon against the ceramic, he adds the foam, stirring it carefully.

then he’s shifting his weight, angling his face towards yours, and pressing the rim of the cup against your lips — not before blowing on it gently. he watches as your eyelids flutter, waiting for the hum of contentment he’ll hear once you have your first sip. and he gets it. the rich aroma stirs you into a more awakened state, and a single taste of the creamy foam has you standing up a little straighter, humming in sleepy delight. suguru smiles, crow’s feet hidden behind his glasses.

you accept the cup with a grateful squeeze of his palm, and he makes sure it’s steady in your hold before he faces forward again. another sip, and your throat feels a little less dry, your mind a lot less sluggish. so you answer his previous question.

”… slept well,” another tiny sip. it’s hot, warming you up from the inside. ”i would’ve preferred waking up to you, though...”

a low chuckle bubbles up in your boyfriend’s throat. it makes you want to pout, but you smile instead. traitorous lips.

he’s looking at you again, unable to help himself, reaching over to brush some loose strands of hair away from your face. ”aw, ’m sorry,” he coos, teasingly, sickeningly sweet. ”but then you wouldn’t have woken up to a fresh cup of coffee, hm?”

now you really are pouting. he shifts, until you're standing chest to chest, and kisses it away. twice, for good measure. he must be in a good mood.

he usually is, at this time of year. when the air starts smelling of honeydew and snowdrops, and he’s awoken by barking dogs, luscious sunbeams splattered on soft bedsheets, the pitter patter of sudden spring rain. when the apricot trees outside your apartment complex begin to bloom; a flurry of sickly-white kisses pressed against your windows, sticking to the locks of your hair. it gives him an excuse to run his fingers through it. even when shoko whines for him to cut it out, and satoru purposefully shakes the branches to make the tiny white petals even harder to find. he must like having his hair ruffled like a misbehaving dog.

they make suguru sigh and sigh, exasperated, but there’s always a smile waiting somewhere out of view. he’s not very good at hiding it.

(he likes the apricot trees. likes watching them change shape, colour, likes waiting for them to wither and blossom and turn into fruit.

once they’re ripe enough to pick, i’ll make marmalade for us.)

the morning waltz continues. while suguru continues to flip his pancakes, you sleepily decide to set the table. fondness erupts behind his eyelids at the gesture, small as it is. you stand on your tiptoes to reach the highest shelf, just to grab satoru’s favorite mug; one you all got him for his 19th birthday, a heartfelt message of world’s okayest boyfriend etched into the front. it was meant to make him pout and whine, but you’ve never seen him drink out of anything else at home.

you place the cup on the table with a soft thunk, along with plates and cutlery. suguru has already brought down a cup for shoko, seated on the kitchen counter next to him, soon to be filled with the same rich espresso he always drinks. he’s waiting until she joins you both, so it doesn’t end up going lukewarm. there’s nothing shoko hates more. you can practically hear that grumpy scoff, see her cute little frown.

your sleep schedules differ from day to day. suguru is always up early, satoru always sleeps in. shoko fluctuates between the two. you usually end up rousing from your slumber whenever the bed starts feeling a little too empty — a fact you doubt they’ll ever quit teasing you about.

that differs from day to day, too. sometimes you sleep with suguru, sometimes the other two, sometimes all three. you have your separate rooms, but always end up with your limbs intertwined one way or another; even if one of you comes home late or falls asleep on the couch watching tv. satoru can’t sleep without hugging someone, and suguru can’t fall asleep unless he knows you’re all sleeping well. shoko isn’t picky, but you know she feels safest when she’s linking elbows with you, or touching pinkies with suguru, or snoozing on top of satoru’s chest like a weighted blanket. as for you…

you’ve gotten way too used to their touch to ever go without it. last night, you ended up in suguru’s room, tucked underneath his chin, while satoru snuck into shoko’s bed to convince her not to pull another all-nighter. you’re assuming it worked.

”mm, smells good. you makin’ pancakes?”

a bubbly, groggy voice spills into the air, just as a light breeze flits in through the window. soothing, refreshing. you turn your gaze towards its source.

and there they are. sleepy satoru, and grumpy shoko, the former clinging to the latter like an overgrown koala. satoru seems to be in high spirits, calling out to you with a smile, blue eyes glimmering like a sunny sky; but you can tell he’s tired by the way he’s stretching out his limbs, only wearing a pair of pyjama pants. and shoko is silent, blinking drowsily, twitching when his loud voice buzzes in her ear. she makes no move to push him away.

suguru gazes at them with a smile, in tandem with you, nothing but fond. loving, in the way the amber of his eyes gleams and swirls with promises of something everlasting. he’s a little intense, honestly. but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

and, admittedly, your sleepy little partners are a sight for sore eyes.

shoko meets your gaze, and finally decides to shake off the man with an arm over her shoulder. said man huffs, but makes no move to follow her when she stumbles into your arms.

her limbs find their way around your midriff, her chin to the curve of your shoulder. her hair is loose, almost as long as suguru’s, messy and brushing against your cheek. your hand goes to smooth down her back, the fabric of her oversized shirt, soft and laced with the scent of laundry detergent. she yawns, right by your ear, lips jutted out into a small pout, and something in your chest returns. a hungry plant, drinking up her raspy voice, the glimpse you get of that mole beneath her eye. her stretch marks, when she pulls away and her shirt rides up enough to expose her thighs. little lightning bolts.

”morning,” you chirp. she presses a tiny kiss against your cheek, dangerously close to your lips; sometimes you think she does it just to tease you.

”hey, how come i didn’t get a morning kiss?”

shoko turns her head, finding satoru’s accusing stare. he’s pouting, tilting his head, already making his way over to suguru. but she only rolls her eyes.

”you’re such a baby.”

”you know you love me!”

suguru stifles a puff of laughter, leaning back against the kitchen counter, elbows resting on the marble. watching his partners with barely contained delight. satoru notices, grinning softly, throwing his arms around his boyfriend’s neck.

satoru’s kisses are always sloppy. you hear that drawn out mwah! even without looking at the pair, even without seeing his lips against suguru’s jaw. a phantom warmth sprouts on your skin.

”good morning, handsome,” he purrs, low and rumbling through his chest, pressed flush against suguru’s — their heartbeats mingling together. soft skin against smooth fabric. there’s mischief in those aquamarine eyes, something teasing, and it makes suguru want to return the favour.

”good morning, baby,” he presses his lips against satoru’s cheek. voice muffled against his soft skin, silky and deep. ”you kinda smell.”

a moment passes. the calm before the storm.

satoru blinks, barely registering shoko’s dry chuckle from behind him — and then furrows his eyebrows together like an irritated cat. a scandalized noise builds up at the base of his throat, and he glares at the man in front of him, frustration only growing when he notices that suguru isn’t returning the favour. his gaze is still fond, like an artist admiring a marble statue, drinking in his pouty boyfriend’s fluffy hair and droopy eyes and rosy lips. flattering, but the damage has been done.

”oh, i see how it is,” he withdraws his arms and takes a step back, crossing them with a hmph. ”bullying your sweet boyfriend first thing in the morning, huh? have you no shame?”

”sorry. you just look really bulliable today.”

another offended little noise. he turns on his heel, messy strands of hair swaying with the movement, glaring at shoko instead. ”unbelievable. i feel neglected in this household.”

you huff out a breathy laugh, taking a seat by the kitchen table while your lovers bicker. sipping from your cappuccino in silence, soaking up the mellow morning mood. until you feel satoru staring at you; eyes like marbles, big and bright, rich with mirth. his pout fades away, and he closes in on you with a smile. troubles forgotten.

before you can greet him, he’s leaning down to leave a fat kiss on your forehead — messy, uncoordinated, but loving. a coo on the tip of his tongue. when he’s this close you can see his dimples, those tiny freckles that only come out in the light of the sun.

you feel him smile against your skin, pulling back to speak. parting his pretty, glossy lips. ”and good morning to you, my dearest.”

he’s silly.

your lips bloom into a sweet grin, honeyed nectar on your teeth. he’s illuminated by the light streaming in through the window, a little disheveled, with his cute bedhead and bare chest exposed. a giggle slips from your lips, and your voice carries a melodic lilt, coming out as a soft croon. ”good morning, sunshine.”

satoru blinks. just once, before the telltale signs of his excitement start to show; his face brightening, breaking out into a cheshire grin, something sweet in the way his eyes crinkle. like folded origami, like messily cut fruit. citrusy and smooth.

before you can protest, those strong arms are reaching around your waist — hoisting you up into his arms with a coo of c’mere. he spins you around, just once or twice, and chuckles at the way you let out a sleepy yelp. even after stilling, he doesn’t put you down, only guiding your legs to wrap around his middle; his naked chest and muscles pressed flush against you. he’s warm, one large palm on your back and the other on your thigh. he touches you like it’s muscle memory, every ridge and dip, every part of you he’s already long mapped out. honestly, you don’t understand how he can get so excited this early in the morning.

but who are you to complain, when it means getting smothered like this?

”oh, and i smell great, by the way,” he suddenly huffs, directed at the partners behind him. he’s quick to smile down at you, tilting his head and searching for approval. ”don’t i, baby?”

for a second, you’re tempted to join in on the teasing. some part of you wants to. unfortunately, it loses against the parts of you still mesmerized by the splotches of white inside his pretty eyes, those cute little freckles. so you nod.

”yeah,” you breathe. inhaling, taking him in, sunlight and strawberries and laundry detergent. ”you smell like spring.”

his smile continues to blossom, turning sweeter by the minute. brighter than the sun. he throws a victorious glance behind him, delighting in the simultaneous roll of their eyes — before finally putting you back down. he wastes no time in plopping down on the seat to your right, dragging your chair closer to his, until they’re pressed against each other. curling a leg around yours. so clingy in the morning.

suguru and shoko are quick to join you. they blink slowly, sipping on their cups of espresso, a rich aroma spreading throughout the kitchen. it blends well with the plates of pancakes suguru scoots towards you, drizzled with the syrup satoru likes. he’s attentive, making sure you’re all comfortable, rising to his feet when shoko asks for a single cube of sugar. she’s started to mellow out a bit, no longer as grumpy, soothed by the bitter taste on her tongue. and satoru keeps your leg locked in place beneath the table.

it’s hard not to feel nostalgic, like this. when spring is blooming just outside your window, when all three of them are just the same as you remember. some things have changed, sure, but they’re still so unapologetically them. loud voices, rude eye-rolls, teasing comments and all.

they munch on their pancakes, sip on their coffee, and you chat about what to do when you all get home. what movie to watch, what food to order, what food to make because suguru doesn’t think you’ve been eating enough homemade meals lately. bickering and bantering. smiling.

(it feels like high school every day.)

shoko is the first to leave. she glances at the clock on the wall and stutters out a string of curse words, a mutter about being late. suguru plays dumb when she accuses him of not reminding her on purpose. she kisses you again, right under your jaw, and lets her clingy boyfriends give her one kiss each on the lips — despite her protests that they’ll mess up her lipstick. then she’s heading out.

”goodbye, doctor!” satoru calls, cheery even as your girlfriend rolls her pretty eyes.

”don’t call me that yet,” she snorts, adjusting her scarf. ”there’s still a good chance i’ll drop out. or cheat my way to a doctorate.”

so she says, but you all know her. you catch that glimmer of amusement in her eyes, something smug in the way she straightens her back. a little embarrassed, maybe. but the faith you have in her makes her glow.

then it’s satoru’s turn. he’s whinier, about it, ignoring the alarms on his phone on purpose. suguru has to bribe him, promising him kikufuku and take-out and an extra tight hug when he gets home. only then does he get up from his seat, untangling his leg with yours.

”do i have to?”

”yes, you do,” suguru tuts. ”the kids have an exam today. be responsible.”

another pout. but he listens, slipping on his sunglasses, putting on a coat and stealing a sip of your coffee that only makes him grimace. he has you both kiss the taste away, and you indulge him, because he’s silly and stupid and yours.

and then it’s just you and suguru. he has a day off, and you don’t have to leave until later. the kitchen falls silent, back to a mellow morning rhythm, that quiet waltz of motions and sunshine. suguru pours you more coffee, gazing at you from across the table, and you thank him with a smile. he adjusts his glasses and flips through the morning newspaper; absently, you wonder if shoko and satoru would’ve teased him for it.

what the four of you have is an odd arrangement. but that’s what all of you are, anyway; a little odd.

and as you sit there, serenaded by cicadas and morning birds, senses caressed by cappuccino foam and apricot blossoms and a hand holding yours over the table… you think to yourself that even if everything shattered around you — if the earth stopped spinning or the stars crashed through the roof of your apartment — you’d probably still keep on living. you’d do it, if only to continue chewing on these memories, these mornings, like savouring the faded flavour of an old piece of gum. over and over again, until you can’t tell where your teeth end and where the gum begins, so that you’ll always be able to taste it on your tongue. for the rest of your life.

it’s melodramatic, yes, but they are too. you’re sure suguru is pondering a sentiment even more dramatic, right now, even heavier with devotion. something so sappy you’d have to hide your face in your hands and beg him to stop talking.

and, lo and behold, he suddenly speaks up.

“are you happy?”

the question breaks you out of your silent stupor. you look up from your plate, his amber eyes already taking you in, drowning you in fondness. he’s smiling, and he’s looking at you like you’re spring personified. the silver of his lip piercing catches the light of the sun. a couple apricot petals are stuck in his hair, woven between his raven locks.

you blink. inside your chest, something unfurls, twists and turns, grows and withers all at once. a whole garden of love, just for them.

you lean forward, elbows on the table, and brush through his bangs. petal caught between your fingertips. when you lean back, you’re smiling.

“yeah,” you answer, truthfully. inhaling the scent of spring. “i’m always happy when i’m with you.”

a breeze caresses your cheek, your hands, and the whole apartment smells of apricots. suguru seems pleased, returning to his cup of lukewarm coffee, a little clink of ceramic against porcelain that strikes you as distinctly heavenly.

soon, you’ll have to leave. you’ll have to manage without their jokes and banter and touches, without them, for a grueling number of hours, one tortuous lecture after another. but they’ll be waiting once you get back — and tomorrow, you’ll have breakfast again, just like this. forever and ever. you never want the coffee to run out, never want the apricot trees to wither. you want to stay greedy for a long time to come.

and you’re sure they feel the same.

the sun lets her golden hair flow throughout the city, melting rivers and warming benches. she falls across shoko’s lecture hall, sneaks into satoru’s classroom, kisses her way up suguru’s neck. you let a sigh slip past your lips, and the sun breathes it in again — a vein of joy awoken, slumbering inside your veins.

and you smile.

(it’s springtime, now. a little warmer.

here’s to another year together.)

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #geto x you #geto x y/n #shoko ieiri x reader #shoko ieiri x y/n #shoko ieiri x you #gojo fluff #geto fluff #satosugu x reader #sashisu x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x gender neutral reader

963 notes · View notes

chocsra · 2 months

Text

✧ "MY KIND OF WOMAN"

☆ summary ↺: finding out that your crush, chuuya nakahara's type is the complete opposite of you, his close friend.

☆ content ↺: small oneshot, fluff, highschool au, other mentions of bsd chars (+gin, tachihara, hirotsu & dazai)

☆ song ↺: my kind of woman by mac demarco <3

☆ w/c ↺: 2k

sometimes, you felt unsure of yourself.

your parents and the people around you assured that there will be someone—no, plenty of people that would love you and your personality. you were rowdy, energetic and outspoken. very honestly yelling about cringe phrases in public. loved ones around you such as friends, would often shush you or swear you're going to be the death of them.

no—you weren't really weird, just humourous, mischevious and cheeky. yes, sometimes, it affected your love life. nonetheless, the people in your life always said there is someone out there who wants someone exactly like you. you are the ideal in someone's heart.

it made you wonder if others accepted their partner's flaws because they love them, or love your significant other for their flaws.

"man, i don't know."

your eyes roll at the guy beside you, sweating in his basketball uniform and adjusting his sports headband as you two sat at the foot of the bleachers. "very helpful, chuuya."

he was wearing red.

his uniform was red, his hair a colour of copper—but in sunlight he could be mistaken for ginger. and he had this look in his eyes, a look you can't but admire. it was full of passion, but he always suppressed his emotions. chuuya never expressed his emotions well.

and that's how chuuya nakahara was, a complete idiot. you were talked your ear off back then by him geeking out over a girl he likes but can't seem to express it well. though you get teased by him for keeping your head deep in the books when it comes to romance, you found yourself comforting him at 3am when he can't get his mind off another girl, who probably broke his heart.

that was the past when you were both new to highschool, of course he wanted a girlfriend. which was especially difficult since he was best friends with the basketcase of the school—dazai osamu. well, even he had girls liking him, which was surprising since he's not exactly friends with this thing called deodorant.

"well, why would you see flaws in somebody you love and think it's something to be changed?" the boy inquires, chugging his waterbottle. "when you don't love them, flaws shouldn't matter, and when you do love them, their flaws should be part of the reason you do."

cute, you thought.

"that's how it should be!" — you pause, waving your hands all over the place trying to express yourself, "but not everyone thinks like that, y'know?"

he chuckles, "well, unlucky for you, some people's flaws can be unbearable." you shoot a glare at your friend, "the hell is 'unlucky for you' supposed to mean?"

chuuya snickers, "nothing." he looks up at the gym's ceiling, eyebrows scrunching when he sees the numerous dodgeballs stuck up there. how did that get up there? he thinks for a second. you wrinkle your nose in distaste, "—asshole." he quickly averts his gaze from the ceiling, to your scrunched up face.

"hey!"

after settling down from trying to flick each other's foreheads for an extended period of time, you squish your cheek onto your palm. "since we were on the topic of relationships, what is your type in a girl?" you ask casually, the usual hustle and bustle of basketball boys and their friends watching screaming in the gym. "my type in a girl?.."

he thinks for a second, finger tapping on his chin.

"i like elegant girls, girls who are super classy." he smirks, closing his eyes with confidence in his answer.

your eyes widen a bit,

—you were nothing like any of those things.

"well, my type is tall guys." you quickly retort, the redhead almost pouts, before refraining it to a scoff.

"chuuya, we need you on the court, man!" a firm call back runs from one of his teammates, "oh shit," the redhead quickly gets up, setting his waterbottle.

"see ya later, idiot." his lips curve up in a slight smile, ruffling your hair gently before returning to court.

this day sucked already.

"i've been good today.. i burnt 15 ants instead of the usual 30."

chuuya felt is eye twitch, standing near the incinerator with his childhood friend, dazai osamu. "i really fuckin' wish we weren't neighbours."

he remembers back then when his mother would tell the boy to play with his neighbour, dazai. unfortunately, he managed to stick with him forever and ever.

the brunette ruffles his wavy brown hair, crouching down to fiddle with a few new ants. "so what's new, midget?" chuuya almost swears he throws his lit lighter onto the kid right there, before scoffing, "don't call me that, bastard." the bandaged student looks at him blankly, as if he knew the redhead was bothered.

chuuya sighs, "okay, well, [y/n]'s been kinda off lately, and she won't tell me why."

dazai sighs, letting go of the ant he's been holding. "what did you do this time? if a woman is acting off, it's 100% your fault." the ginger scoffs in response, "well, our last conversation was at the bleachers. she asked me what my type was and i responded with elegant and classy girls, and she hasn't been the same since. she even said after her type was tall guys!"

the brunette smirks again, snickering devilshly for a good hot minute. "what the hell? cut it out, man. you're scarin' me!" chuuya protests, before dazai asks him:"you told [y/n] that you like elegant girls, and you have a crush on her?"

the redhead pauses and thinks about that statement for a while, "yeah, what's wrong with that?" he tilts his head in confusion. "you're so inconsiderate, chuuya." dazai hums, "[y/n]'s the polar opposite of elegant and classy."

it suddenly hits chuuya like a brick — but he still rummages to work against that statement.

"dude, you're wrong! she's got a super classy smile, and really elegant hands. even the way she moves is elegant. and—" dazai shoves a bandaged hand in his face, "please, i don't wanna hear it."

"if you want her to actually like you back, tell her that she's your type, and whatever you just said right now." dazai gets up, patting the dirt off his ass. "or, be like me, and invite her to a double suicide date."

chuuya closes his eyes in disdain, "kill yourself." the teenager smirks, "you don't have to tell me twice, slug."

"you don't understaaannndddd!!" you whine, playing the flute despondently at band practice. the girl beside you purses her lips, before writing in her pocket notebook — it's just his type. and i think you're elegant in your own way.

you pout at reading that, before sluggishly getting up. "thanks, gin..." you thank, before another redhead flashily enters band practice. "sorry for being late, mr. hirotsu, somethin' came up." your band teacher nods, before tachihara, an outspoken second year, strides up to you and gin.

"what's up with her?" the boy asks, before sitting down and fiddling with his trumphet. gin writes down — [y/n] found out chuuya's type was the complete opposite of her. tachihara looks for a moment, before laughing: "pfft.."

gin, a super pretty but androgynous second year then tells him to shut up by smacking his shoulder, earning a yelp from tachihara. "eek! well, listen, that guy is total shit anyway.. besides his super cool motorcycle, and killer smile, and his super cool motorcycle.. damn, wish i could get somethin' like that."

"shut up, tachihara." you mumble, as he scoffs dramatically, adjusting the bandage on his nose. "shouldn't you just continue talking to him? him having a type doesn't mean he doesn't like you." the redhead reasons, before reading the sheet music. "yeah but, now i think of all the girls he used to like.. and i'm nothing like them." you frown, slumping again onto the desk.

"y'know what they say.. the past is past, like how i thought gin was a boy." tachihara shrugs, frowning when he sees the middle finger she shoots at him, "i'm telling your brother you did that to me." he quips, before gin clears her throat, her silky raven hair tied back in a ponytail. "he'll beat your sorry ass." she says in the girliest voice possible.

tachihara yelps before your band teacher, mr. hirotsu reprimands you three for slacking off, frowning as you guys apologize, tachihara whispers: "point is, just talk to him." the boy says, as gin nods. "—unless you told him that you liked tall guys after, that would send him into cardiac arrest." he concluded, you gulped in slight guilt.

gin whispered in a gentle tone, "did you actually?.." you don't respond and frown even more.

"damn, you suck." tachihara finishes, yelping as the teacher yells at him again. "sorry, sir!"

it was another day, well, end of the day.

most students already went home, but you decided to stay at school to study for a bit. unbeknownst to your knowledge, it was raining heavily, and luckily for you, you had no umbrella. you sigh, jamming your earbuds in before walking out of the roof you covered yourself in.

except, upon your first step outside, you still felt no rain.

then, you saw chuuya's umbrella covering you. "hm?" you turn to him, surprised. "hey, you shouldn't get sick before my game, idiot." he chuckles as you two walked in the rain, under the same umbrella. "no way!" you smile.

an awkward silence came over you two. "uhm, about the other day," the boy starts off as you immediately flush — of course he noticed that you were upset. "hey! it's nothing serious, i—" chuuya shushes you by successfully flicking your head. you yelp, "ow.." rubbing your forehead. the boy swallows thickly, "i wanted to correct myself, actually."

raindrops. they moved at a steady pace, falling onto his black umbrella above you two, onto the pavement, and onto the cars passing by. you looked over at chuuya, who never followed dress-code, who had his button-up and tie neatly ironed. he strangely followed the dress-code perfectly today. "elegant and classy's not my type, actually."

you pause, thinking for a second. "then what is?"

"good question, actually." chuuya quips, adjusting his tie. he was completely confident when speaking, but you couldn't help but stare at the nervous quivering of his slender hands. "y'know that question you asked about flaws? it made me think that somewhere out there, every person is who someone has been exactly looking for. everyone in the world is someone's ideal type." he explained, inhaling sharply.

"—and i, uh," chuuya's words strained his throat, his cheeks are blazing and he has an odd coordination when walking. "you're my— ugh,"

cute, you thought, before internally slapping yourself.

"you're my kind of, mm, seriously?" the redhead stutters, rubbing two fingers against his temple, exhaling sharply. "you're my kind of girl, and—"

you felt a raindrop hit your cheek, it was cold and quick. but this feeling, it was slow and cherishing. warm, like a sunny day in a field of flowers, or another resting day of keeping your head in the books. after moping around for days, maybe tachihara was right. the whole ordeal was stupid, just like chuuya.

"—i like you too." you cut him off.

chuuya almost drops his umbrella in shock, as an abundance of rain water splashes onto you two. "shit!" he curses, feeling shitty for ruining the moment, but you laugh, extending out your hand to his, smiling brightly.

his lips curve into a smile, "okay, maybe this isn't that bad." chuuya quips, intertwining your fingers into his, before pressing a gentle kiss to the spot on your forehead he flicked earlier.

today, it felt like running through a field of flowers on a sunny day, even though it was raining and you got sick the next day. but it only felt that way because you had him next to you the entire time.

—in truth, he was your type too, and no, tall men were never your type.

✧ chocsra™

355 notes · View notes

loveshotzz · 1 year

Note

for your blurbs:

‘bent over a table while something bakes in the oven.’

with my favorite bartender. maybe it’s his birthday or somethin’ :)

Hi bf 🥰 I hope you enjoy your boyfriend being a birthday boy menace.

A/N: this blurb is with bartender!eddie from my whatta man au, but can be read as a stand alone. just know it’s your bartender boyfriends 32nd birthday.

wc: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ for smut,fem!reader, dirty talk, mild food play, spanking, cream pie for days

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to see the cake before the party babe?”

Eddie’s voice echoes down the hall from your bedroom, an annoyed sigh escaping from between your lips when you stop stirring the chocolate icing you’d just ask him to come try.

“That’s the bride before the wedding, and you weren’t supposed to be hereeee.” You call back in an irritated song when you remind him of his three a.m. decision to come and see you after his shift at The Foxy Lounge using the significance of today to get you to say yes. “But since you are, I want the birthday boy to tell me if this is sweet enough for him.”

You wipe your hands on your sleep shorts that you haven’t been able to change out of yet, turning around only to be crowded against the counter in a blur of black and ripped denim by mister thirty two himself. Your palms land flat against his chest as his full lips start peppering kisses all over your face and the giggles he gets only encourage him further. The hard formica pressing against your back becomes smooth against the bottom of your thighs when he lifts you up to sit on it instead. You squeal his name when he pushes himself between your legs with the kind of smile that gives you butterflies like the first night you met him.

“I really like it when you call me birthday boy.” Wiggling his eyebrows, you can still see the dimples that poke his cheeks under his scruff, while big ring-covered hands find a home on the curve of your ass pulling you closer to the edge. The silver chain attached to his wallet that dangles from his belt is cool against the skin of your calf from the A/C when you wrap your legs around him.

“I’m not surprised in the slightest,”You grin, unable to stop the way one of your hands fluff’s out his freshly washed curls. The softness from your deep conditioner is evident against your fingertips. “Now are you going to try this frosting or not before Steve takes you away.”

“I also really like when you’ve got a lil attitude like this,” Eddie teases, nudging the round end of his nose with yours as he leans to try and steal a kiss only for the plush softness of his full lips to hit your cheek instead and it actually makes him whine a little, “come on, it’s my birthday.”

“Try the frosting and maybe I’ll reconsider.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you catch the way he has to physically pull his eyes away from your now pushed up tits.

He sucks the skin of his teeth, looking at you with a narrowed stare before raising his eyebrows at you in a silent challenge. Nodding before shrugging a little too casually, he dips his index finger into the rich velvet, the boars head that dons it catching in the sunlight.

“Fine, I’ll try it. No problem baby, anything for you.” His tone is the only warning you get before the chocolate that matches his eyes is smeared sloppily across your lips.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of your open mouth when you gasp, doing what you asked of him while also still getting what he wants. His hand reaches up, cupping your cheek in his palm letting the pad of his thumb coax you open for him with a swipe of his tongue collecting the chocolate from your bottom lip before meeting yours in the middle with a low groan. It’s a battle for dominance before he sucks yours gently, getting your back to arch and fingers to bury themselves in his curls, melting into him just like the sugar.

He grins into the kiss when the heels of your feet start to dig into the curve of his butt, your irritation from before forgotten with a roll of your hips. He smacks his lips against yours once, twice, three times before he pulls away more than proud of himself when you look at him with a dazed smile and glazed over half hooded eyes.

“Mmm, I think I need another taste. What do you think?” His nose ring bumps against your heated cheek when he kisses you again, this one softer, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip while his finger makes its way back into the bowl of chocolate by your hip.

“I think it’s your birthday, you can do whatever you want.” The double meaning in your words doesn’t go unnoticed, black pupils taking over coffee ground eyes.

The sarcastic remark he has about your attitude just minutes ago is quickly forgotten when your hand wraps around his wrist bringing his frosting covered finger to your lips. He can feel the warmth between your thighs that lock him in place, cock twitching against the seam of his ripped jeans when you lick a long stripe up the side before bringing it entirely into the heat of your mouth. Hollowing out your cheeks as you suck, his eyes hit the back of his head with a muttered ‘fuck’ and a rock of his hips in search for the kind of friction only you can give.

You release him with a loud pop that bounces off the walls of your kitchen and you’ve never been more thankful for your roommate to be out of town. There’s a hunger in his stare that wasn’t there before when it meets yours and the fingers spread across your ass grab at the soft flesh pulling you closer. The evidence of your teasing makes you moan when it presses against your clit.

“Gonna let me bend you over then?” The gravel in his voice is unmistakable, leaning his forehead against yours as he looks at you from under thick lashes.

“Uh huh” you nod, letting your top lip connect with his bottom one in a dare, a deep exhale blowing through his nose when he smells the chocolate on your breath.

“That’s my sweet girl,” he grins, stepping back just enough for you to get off the counter, both of his hands finding your sides to help you down, “just like your icing.”

Your eyes don’t leave his as you make a show of letting your body slide down the length of him with a smile. Nipples hardening under your tank top as they rub down his chest. He curses under his breath, licking his lips when you turn around to press your ass firmly against the throb in his jeans. A teasing thrust from him has your palms find the counter top for support, while his hands wrap tight around your curves.

“Fuck, look at you.” He’s mesmerized by the dip of your back as you arche for him, the hem of your shorts stretching over the fat of your ass, riding up just below your cheeks. He wants it to be his birthday every day.

“Better hurry up before Steve starts callin’” You tease looking back over your shoulder with a wiggle of your hips.

“Hmmpf '' Eddie huffs with one more thrust, ringed fingers curling around the sides of your shorts, stepping back just enough to let them pool at your feet. “He can wait, this is more important.”

He grabs a handful of your ass, spreading you apart to reveal just how wet you already are and the sight of it makes him groan. He works on the button of his jeans, metal clinking when they fall to the floor.

Dripping for him, he slides the tip of his cock along the seam of your cunt with ease, catching against your clit making you keen. You push back for more and the heat of his palm connects to your cheek with a smack, the metal of his rings adding an extra sting that makes you gush.

“Don’t be rude baby, I’m the birthday boy.” He reminds you, watching how your ass jiggles the way he likes.

“Don’t get cocky - ohmygod” The air is taken out of your lungs when he lines himself up with your entrance and pushes in without warning, the stretch when he bottoms out with his chest to your back makes your eyes pinch shut with a whine.

“I think you like it,” His words come out right next to your ear in a breath of peppermint and chocolate that make goosebumps rise along the back of your neck.

He doesn’t wait for you to respond before he stands up straight, fingers digging into the dough of your hips when he pulls almost all the way out before filling you back up to the hilt. Circling his hips, his tip bullies the spot that makes your toes curl and the flutter of your walls encourages him to start his unrelenting pace. The first three strokes make your jaw go slack, fingers curling around the edge of your countertop, the ends of your nails scratching against the wood underneath.

“Always feel so good baby, Jesus - sucking me in like she can’t get enough.” The lewd sounds of your slick and the slap of his hips against your ass fill the quiet of your apartment, a low whine pulling from your throat when he adjusts hitting a different angle.

“Eddie - fuuuck.” You can’t find it in yourself to care how pathetic you sound, not when two calloused fingers start playing messily with your swollen bundle of nerves.

“Yeah sweet girl? That feels nice?” Hunching over you, his strokes get deeper the tip of his nose nudging the shell of your ear.

“S’good” you manage to get out, pushing your hips back meeting his.

His hold on your waist becomes bruising as he keeps making circle eights with the pads of his finger to your puffy clit, while the pattern of his thrusts start to get sloppy when he feels the way you tighten around him like you're close. The slow burn that started deep in your gut starts to become all consuming like this, one of your hands releasing its grip from the counter to cover on top of his between your legs. A low chuckle vibrating in your ear when he picks up the pace.

“Yeah, it’s like that?” You can hear the grin in his voice, and your smart mouth from before is gone. All you can do is nod, your arousal coating both of your fingers and leaving them to slide messy in a way that has your chest tighten, and your mouth fall open.

“Give me my present then baby, come on, give it to me then. Wanna feel you on me all day.” He grunts nipping at your earlobe, and it’s enough to get him exactly what he wants.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie!” Your eyes squeeze shut when you scream his name, your orgasm washing over you in a burst of heat as he thrusts into you hard enough to push you on to the tips of your toes with every one.

“Shit - that’s it, that’s fuckin’ itttt.” The feeling of your walls constricting around him so much that they try to push him out only makes him bury himself deeper as he paints your insides white. Muscles tensing with his release before they go limp when he melts back into you, huffing out a laugh that fans against your neck.

“The icing is great sweetheart, I can’t wait for the cake.”

#my writing #requests #whatta man #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x fem!reader #bartender!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic

1K notes · View notes

lamentationsofalonelypotato · 1 month

Text

Chapter 6: Best Friends Forever

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team. (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy.

Word Count: 9.9K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), derogatory comments, sexism, swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension, little bit of homophobia (It's Soldier Boy). Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

A/N: I know I said I was gonna be more angsty with this chapter, but I got distracted, the sun was in my eyes, and my hand slipped…

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

The next morning Mike’s screeching begins all over again, but today he starts with "My Girl" by the Temptations.

He's getting warmer.

You think with a smile, singing along to the song under your breath as you prop yourself up on your pillows with a content sigh. The smell of gardenia wafted over your bed in a gentle wave as your curtains opened, allowing the sunlight to drift over your bed. The beautiful white flowers bloomed from the plant sitting on your bedside table, each petal frosted with mist from the mister hanging on the wall behind it.

Gardenias reminded you of home. They were your grandmother's favorite. There were several large bushes gracing the front yard of her home that rose almost as high as the second story. Whenever you were back home you would make sure that they burst into bloom so she could fill her home with the sweet smelling flowers. It helped you relax and sleep at night, though sometimes it didn't do much to keep the nightmares away.

You hadn't had a good night sleep in a while, but after Ben and you had been up late putting together the bookshelf that stood proudly in the left corner of your bedroom, you were exhausted. Now it was filled with your worn brightly colored paperbacks and covered with a healthy amount of pothos vines as was everything else in your home, but you loved it.

When the delivery men had arrived late yesterday evening and they had been more than willing to carry the couch up the three flights of stairs, but Ben had told them to leave and said "I'm not some kind of pussy that waits for her fucking husband to come home because she needs him to change a lightbulb."

And so they left, leaving Ben and you with the box your unassembled bookshelf came in and a giant three piece couch.

Mike's mother had set up a folding chair with her best friend Mary Ann outside on the sidewalk, drinking glasses of wine and giggling like schoolgirls each time Ben and you came back down to haul another piece of the couch back up into the apartment. He tried to make you sit upstairs and wait for him to bring it in, but you had cussed him out and held up the only finger that mattered.

Putting together the bookshelf hadn't been that much better. Ben had almost broken two of the tiny wooden pegs that secured the back panel all the while cursing under his breath when you tried to show him the instructions.

And being in the presence of the instructions seemed to trigger Ben. It immediately turned the two of you into the couple in the car that bicker over a map before they get murdered in a horror movie.

The shouting got so loud that Mike raced over hopeful that Ben had broken your heart and that he would there to pick up the pieces, while Mike's mother followed in quick pursuit hoping to console Ben.

But when Ben had answered the door sweaty and shirtless- because you'd ripped his shirt on accident when he tried to walk away from you muttering something about "women and their fucking instructions" and you'd grabbed him while shouting "say it to my face you geriatric asshat!"- Mike thought that he had interrupted something else and retreated back to his apartment in shame while his mother stood in the hallway waving a hand in front of her face to calm down.

As annoying as Ben was, you loved the bookshelf. It was perfect for your bedroom and looked a little whimsical, which was how most of your apartment looked with the mismatched vintage furniture, all the plants, and the crocheted blankets. What you couldn't figure out was why he bought it for you.

You had relented on his purchase of the couch, because it did make sense, he was spending the most time on it, but his purchase of the bookshelf confused you. He'd been in your bedroom all of five minutes a few days ago and had only looked at the pile of vine covered books once.

So why did it bother him so much that I had a pile of books on the floor of my bedroom? Why did he have to buy it for me? Why did he care enough to?

No one had ever done that before for you. Your high school boyfriend, Newton, had seen the same pile of books in your bedroom back home every time he came over and never did anything about it, but Ben had only seen it for a moment and remembered.

I don’t understand why he’s acting so nice. You stretch your hands up over your head and begin to get out of bed. Probably because he thinks if he’s nice I’ll sleep with him.

The thought was becoming familiar, but you weren't sure what other reason it could be for. The two of you had nothing in common. He was always angry, sexually forward, annoying, not to mention he was from another century and he didn't understand anything about the present time.

I mean sometimes it's kinda cute how clueless he is about stuff like that. He always gets that adorable frown and- Nope, nope, nope not thinking about that right now.

Bean purrs in agreement with your thought at the end of your bed, stretching his front legs and arching his back. His charcoal fur looks almost silver in the light from the sun that streams through the open window leaving behind the imprint of the brilliant square on your comforter.

Bean had enjoyed watching the two of you put together the bookshelves, well, he enjoyed playing in the box that the bookshelf came in. He ran in and out, back and forth through the openings on both sides of the box, using it like a tunnel all the while Ben complained over the small screws and even smaller pegs that never seemed to fit where they needed to.

Personally you just think Ben was jealous that you knew how to read the instructions and he didn't.

And last night you understood just how bad Ben was at receiving directions. He had ignored you when you tried to help him, which had lead to the yelling match that Mike walked in on.

But you still didn’t understand why he cared so much about the pile of books in your bedroom. They'd been sitting there since you moved in, because you hadn't found a proper place for them, not to mention the pile just kept growing.

At least he didn't look too closely at the titles. The last thing I want Ben to know is how many romance novels I read.

You grab a bundle of your clothes and open your bedroom door, while Mike continues to sing "My Girl." You creep down the hallway, intent on taking a shower, but your curiosity gets the better of you, so instead of going to the bathroom, you peek into the living room.

Ben is sitting on the new charcoal couch that you crammed into the room, reading a newspaper and you have no idea where he got it.

Maybe he already left sometime this morning? Guess he can be quiet when he wants to be.

Bean prances down the hallway behind you and jumps onto the back of the couch, kneading his paws in the soft pillows, before dropping down next to Ben. Ben smiles at the cat and folds the newspaper closed so he can scratch him under the chin.

"Hey buddy." You hear him mutter. "Y/n up yet?"

Bean only purrs and rubs himself further into Ben's hand.

"Don't know how anyone can sleep with that jack-off next door." Ben rolls his eyes, but doesn't raise them from the cat that has begun to crawl into his lap. "Why does she hate me so much?" He whispers to Bean with a sigh.

His question made you freeze where you were standing in the hallway. It was so open, so honest, so completely unlike Ben. It was the last thing you were expecting him to ask your cat, well, honestly you didn't think that he would talk to the cat at all. You suddenly wondered what other things he said about you when you weren't around.

And why does he care so much if I hate him? I mean I don't, he just gets on my nerves constantly, and knows how to press all my buttons.

You liked to think that you were an easy-going person, but Ben drove you crazy. You'd never met anyone who could do that to you before, never allowed yourself to get angry, not even when Poppy Mansfield who put chocolate pudding on your seat at lunchtime when you were in fourth grade and made everyone think you'd pooped your pants. You'd only shrugged and walked to the bathroom, it was Annie who lost it. Annie had grabbed a handful of pudding and smeared it on Poppy's face and earned her the nickname "Poopy Poppy" until she transferred to another school at the end of the year.

But not with Ben, he crawled under your skin and stayed there whenever he teased you . Usually you let insults and teases roll off your back like water off a duck, but not with Ben. He knew what to say to make you lose your temper. You didn't know how he did that.

Not all the time though.

The trip to IKEA had been kind of fun, well, fun until Ben had insulted your boss and when the two of you watched a movie together it was fun.

In fact, the more time you spent with him, the more you were starting to like him. You wish you didn't. It just made everything harder. You remember what he said at the plant shop, tried to burn it into your heart, that he didn't care about feelings or emotions and you did. You wanted to be with someone who cared about that, someone who understood everything about you, and loved you. You wanted love so bad your heart ached sometimes, and yes maybe you read way too many romance novels, but you wanted something like that to happen to you. You wanted to be so wrapped up in someone else that the world faded away, someone kind and sweet, who remembered little things like how much you liked gardenias or how much you loved pineapple iced tea from the place just around the corner and someone who would be okay with sitting on the couch or in bed, with you laying back in their arms while you read your newest book or tried to crochet.

Ben didn't care about any of that, probably what he would call "pussy shit." He just wanted sex, plain and simple, nothing more, nothing less.

And you didn't want just sex.

You didn't want to start something with Ben, develop strong feelings for him, and then only have him push you away as soon as he got what he wanted. You couldn't handle having your heart broken again. Newton had been enough and after him you told yourself you were going to try harder, were going to find someone who saw your self-worth. Of course that had been a few years ago and each year kinda felt like another nail in the coffin when you went on countless dates with people who never seemed to want the same things you did.

Plus, you were sure that Ben was only interested in you because you kept saying no and that made you "exciting" or whatever. So that just meant you were going to have to keep trying to find someone else.

You take a step back into the hallway, creeping further away as silent as possible. You didn't want him to catch you spying on him and you didn't want him to know that you had heard him ask Bean that. You force your door closed, before putting your clothes in the bathroom and shuffling down the hallway, purposely being as loud as you can so Ben can hear you over Mike's inhuman screech.

“Good morning.” You say as you enter the living room, as if it’s the first time.

“Morning Petals.” Ben looks over the back of the couch. He smirks as his eyes trace over your body. “Don’t you look delicious this morning.”

Your shorts were a little shorter than what you usually wore, hitting the middle of your thigh, and the oversized shirt you wore hung over them giving the illusion that you weren't wearing anything underneath it.

He is so confusing sometimes. Maybe he really just doesn't know how to talk to a woman in this century. Did that really work for him before? Does that work with all his dates?

“Thanks.” You say dryly.

Ben’s smirk twitches and something passes through his eyes that looks a little bit like regret, but it’s gone as soon as you see it.

You turn towards the kitchen. You didn’t know what you were looking for, truthfully you were just making conversation because you felt bad about what Ben asked Bean. You didn't know why that hurt you so much for him to think that you hated him, maybe it had something to do with everything that he'd been through. You wave a hand, perking up the plants in the box over the sink and the raspberry and blackberry vines covering the refrigerator to distract yourself.

“Um-“ You begin, but Ben interrupts you.

“There’s coffee in the microwave!” Ben suddenly blurts.

“What?”

Why is it in the microwave? Shouldn't it be in the coffee maker?

You sniff the air for the tell-tale smell of coffee, but smell nothing. A glance in the direction of the coffee maker reveals that the pot is still sparkling clean from when you washed it out last night.

Is he really lying about coffee? It's like he wants me to hate him.

“Um I mean-“ Ben clears his throat. “I got you coffee.”

“You got me coffee?” You parrot, surprised. “When?” You turn to look at him. He's watching you from over the back of the couch and he almost looks a little awkward, like he's not sure where to go from here as if he's not sure what to do when he does something nice for someone.

“I went to get a newspaper and I walked past a coffee shop.” He shrugs as if suddenly uninterested turning back around to face the jasmine covered wall, picking his newspaper up and opening it.

But you have a suspicion that he wasn't actually reading it, that he was just using it as a prop so he didn't have to look at you anymore.

“Oh. Thanks." You open up the microwave and withdrawal the still warm coffee mug taking a sip.

How in the fuck did he know how I like my coffee? You think to yourself, about to do a spit take you were so shocked, because the coffee was perfect. "How did you know-"

"I read the label on the one plant boy bought you the other day." Ben doesn't look up from his newspaper. "Is it… okay?" He asks it tentatively and a little awkward.

"Yeah. It's perfect actually. Thank you." You say it almost robotically. You couldn't believe that he remembered something like that about you. That he actually thought about you when he went to get a newspaper this morning.

He grunts a "You're welcome."

You take another sip and place it back in the microwave. Preparing to go back to take a shower.

"Do you…" Ben clears his throat again. "Do you work today?" He says it hesitantly.

"No. I usually have Friday's off because Annie and I make plans, but this week she cancelled because Hughie got tickets to some concert a few hours away and they're making it a day trip or whatever." You tried not to sound disappointed, but Friday's were usually you and Annie's day. You would plan random trips to shops in NYC, go to brunch, find ridiculous tourist attractions, try new restaurants, or you would go spend the day in Central Park reading. But Friday nights were wine, greasy pizza, sushi, Chinese food, snacks, and movie nights, had been since your parents died. It had been a family tradition before, Friday night films, but when they died Annie took it upon herself to continue it with you because your brother hadn't been willing to. Of course, when you were kids there wasn't wine, there also weren't movies with Glen Powell or Pedro Pascal, but as you grew so did the films and the conversations and the men, but your friendship blossomed with it.

"Oh." Ben leans his head back over the back of the couch, the smirk back in full force. "Well I've got a few ideas for what we could do today. Sounds like you're a little disappointed there Petals. I'm sure I could cheer you up."

You roll your eyes. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Great, I need one too." Ben jumps to his feet, leaving the newspaper on the couch as he turns to follow you.

"Ben." You sigh his name in frustration.

This is exactly what I'm talking about, he does something really nice and then he follows it up immediately by trying to sleep with me. Is that what this is to him? Do something chivalrous to make me like him and then finally let him fuck me?

It made you angry that he believed it would work.

"What? It'll save water and I just want to make you feel better Petals." Ben wiggles his eyebrows. "You sounded so sad when you said that Annie ditched you-"

"She didn't ditch me!" You snap. "She just had plans with Hughie that's all. And I can't believe you!"

"What the hell did I do?"

"You think that doing something like buying me coffee will get me to sleep with you."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about! You're trying to act all chivalrous and nice just so that you can get me to finally sleep with you. But I'm not going to fall for it Gramps! I am not going to sleep with you just because you do one nice thing for me or try to pretend to care about me." You turn and stomp down the hallway, leaving Ben absolutely speechless in the living room.

When you get in the bathroom you blast your ABBA Gold Album from your Bluetooth speaker to drown out Mike's singing and to drown out your insane internal monologue. And when the music doesn't work, you start to sing the lyrics to the familiar songs letting the melodies soothe you.

You’d liked ABBA since you were a kid. Your mom would listen to it when she was cooking in the large kitchen in your childhood home and when your father got home from work at the end of the day he’d creep up behind her and pull her away from the stove for an impromptu dance.

Your childhood was filled with so much love from two people that were absolutely head over heels. And it made you want that too. It’s why you wouldn’t give in to Ben, because the memories of your parents and the love they shared still warmed your heart years after you’d last seen them.

You dry your hair with a towel, continuing to sing as you dress in your jeans and t-shirt, hoping that you could just escape the apartment by going to Central Park and read on your favorite bench to avoid seeing Ben. You were maybe a little embarrassed that you had yelled at him again. You never intended to.

Maybe I can just creep past him.

You think to yourself as you open the door of the bathroom, but as you step into the hallway you trip over something big on the ground and begin to pitch forward with a started screech. The thing you tripped on catches you so that you fall directly into Ben's lap, your legs on either side of his thighs. You realize that it was Ben you tripped on, who had decided to lounge with his back against one of the walls of the hallway, his legs bent at the knee, directly outside of the small bathroom.

As you fall into his lap, your hands land on his shoulders grabbing tightly in fear and surprise, while his hands catch your hips, pushing up the shirt you had just changed into enough that his hands are resting on a sliver of skin that peeks between your shirt and your favorite pair of jeans.

You weren't expecting it to feel so damn good for his skin to touch yours, to feel the roughness of his hands against the soft skin of your hips. Your hands are still gripping his shoulders tightly, heart thrumming in your veins as you lock eyes with him, adrenaline from the fall still rushing through your veins. He looks as surprised as you do. His face is so close that you can feel his breath on your lips, his body warm and hard beneath yours, and it's making you have flashbacks of the other night when he kissed you in front of Mike, when Ben crushed you against him and kissed you with so much passion that you couldn't equate it to anything else you'd ever felt in your entire life.

You weren't about to admit that aloud, that the kiss you shared with Ben was the best one you'd ever had. And you weren't going to admit that if he kissed that good, you were betting that he would be the best you ever had at other things too. Newton hadn't exactly been a Casanova, and you'd hoped that Newton would have gotten at least a little better at some things the more you two were intimate, he hadn't. You'd also hoped that Newton would have been more concerned about you the closer the two of you were, but each time you were a little disappointed and he was, well, happy.

No. Not thinking about sex right now, not when I'm sitting on top of Ben for fucks sake.

That was a little detail that you were trying very hard to ignore, but it was difficult, not when you could feel everything that made Ben-ahem- Ben, beginning to get interested in your position on top of him.

Ben's eyes are dark, focused on your face, an emotion swimming behind them that makes something snag under your ribs and try to yank you forward, to close the distance between the two of you. His eyes flick from your eyes to your mouth for just a millisecond, moving his face an inch forward, just enough that you can feel the warmth of his lips, but they still do not touch.

"Ben what are you doing on the ground?" You say leaning back to lengthen the distance between your faces, but you can't force your voice into more than a hoarse whisper.

"Dropped my keys." He lies.

"Ben?"

Ben hesitates for a moment. "You've got a pretty voice, wanted to hear better." He admits under his breath, looking as if you caught him with a baseball bat outside your broken kitchen window.

What?

You could feel yourself flushing to the roots of your hair. You'd forgotten that he could hear you in the shower and forgotten that his hearing was so good that he’d be able to pick up what was Mike and what was you. “I’m sorry if it was too loud-“

“No. It was nice.” The end of his mouth twitches in half smile, eyes twinkling impishly. “I’d never tell a woman she was being too loud. I like that doll."

You roll your eyes at him, but his comment doesn’t annoy you this time. You wondered if that was because you were getting used to him and the way he was.

You wanted to kiss him so badly that your lips were aching. He always looked so good and right now was not an exception. Some of his dark hair had fallen forward over his forehead and your fingers itched to push it back, to drag your fingertips over his skin and feel the dips and grooves of his handsome face. The smell of his shampoo was everywhere, spicy and familiar in the best way.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” You whisper. Your hands hands have fallen from his shoulders to rest against the front of his shirt. You don’t really remember when you did that, just that now you can feel the warmth of his chest and the subtle beating of his heart in the palms of your hands. “I think I am kind of upset that Annie cancelled on me today.”

“It’s okay, I'm used to it." Ben's hands are still on you waist, firmly keeping you on top of him. “You always seem to yell at me.”

"Shut up I do not yell at you that much." You laugh, pushing back on his chest playfully.

Ben smiles, but then you watch it drop.

“Look I didn’t get you coffee because I thought it would make you let me fuck you. I got it because you always say you need it to deal with me.” The way he says it breaks something, because he sounds almost sad and you’d never heard him sound that way before. “And I figured that I would see you today and that you’d need it.” He drops his gaze to where your hands are placed on his chest. He’s watching them curiously, like he can’t quite understand it.

Honestly you couldn’t understand what was going on either. Ben was holding you gently, almost reverently on his lap. It was odd. You’d never seen him be this way with anyone.

“Ben-“ You sigh. “I need coffee to deal with everyone, not just you. You’re not special.” You joke to get him to smile again, but he doesn’t instead he continues to look at your hands.

“Hey.” You whisper and this time your hand drifts softly to Ben’s cheek holding his gaze on you. His eyes widen slightly with your bold touch. “Ben I don’t hate you. I just-“

There’s a loud frantic knocking at the front door that startles you off of Ben and on to the ground beside him.

“Were you expecting anyone?” Ben asks as he stands up and holds out his hand to help you.

“Um- no actually.” You reply taking it.

The frantic knocking starts again.

“Do you think it’s Mike checking to see if we broke up again?” Ben snorts.

“I think it might be his mom hoping you answer the door shirtless. Almost gave that poor woman a heart attack.” You start to walk through the living room.

“I remember you having a similar reaction a few days ago Petals.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Though I will say if you ever decided to walk around the apartment shirtless I’d be perfectly okay with that.”

“I did not. And I’m sure you would.” You roll your eyes. “But I doubt you’d be okay with letting me answer the door like that since you seem to be so jealous. Are all the men from your generation so possessive of women they can’t have? Or is it just you?” You tease, remembering how he reacted yesterday afternoon at IKEA in front of Jake.

You doubted that he was jealous. Ben didn’t have anything to be jealous about. He seemed to be plenty happy with the women he found on tinder and you thought it was ridiculous that he needed to have you too.

You glance back over your shoulder to look at Ben seeing if he’s preparing another insult. He’s gone stick straight, his jaw clenched tightly, eyes dark, frown deepening.

Shit I was just kidding but-

You turn back to look at the door but can’t fight the tight feeling that rose in your chest when he looked at you like that.

Get a grip.

You interrupt the next bout of frantic knocking by opening the door.

A man in a rumpled navy suit stands out side the door, a bright blue quilted baby bag covered in elephants hangs from his left shoulder, a little girl holds on to his left hand, while a little boy screams shrilly and hangs from his right arm.

“Mr. Wilson- hi-“ You stutter, surprised. “Are you alright? Here-“ You reach to take his almost one year old son, Josh, from his arms. Josh continues to wail loudly, shaking his head back and forth.

“Can you please watch the kids?!” He says eyes frantically looking around the apartment behind you and focusing on Ben.

Mr. Wilson was another one of your neighbors, but he and his wife lived on the fifth floor. You’d met the Wilson’s by accident when Martha, the five year old holding on to his left hand wearing a bright pink tutu, decided to ride the elevator down to the lobby all by herself and met you while you were moving all your stuff into your apartment. She’d declared you her best friend as soon as she saw the colorful assortment of flowering plants you were lugging through the lobby of your apartment building in a cardboard box. You’d babysit for the Wilson’s sometimes when they needed a few quiet moments alone and on date nights. Not to mention they had a ton of money and paid almost five times per hour the amount you made in an hour working at “Please Don’t Die.”

Josh wails, his face turning bright red, so loud that Ben flinches behind you. You remember what he said about the supe that blew out his eardrums and can't help but feel a little sorry for him. Your own hearing was only a little better than other people's, but not enough to be as bothered as Ben.

“Hey little guy, its okay.” You coo gently bouncing Josh on your hip to make him stop crying. He sniffles and wraps his arms around your neck, gurgling quietly as he catches his breath.

“Y/n!” Martha shouts putting your right leg in a choke hold.

“Hi Marty.” You smile down at her, adjusting your weight so you don’t drop Josh. You look up at her father. “Mr. Wilson, I'm just not sure that now is the right time."

You think about Ben standing behind you and how horrified he looked when the children descended upon you, as if they were ticking time bombs. You weren't sure if you wanted Ben around kids, or if he had ever been around children before. He wasn't the best influence, not to mention you didn't think that he would be able to filter what he said or what he did around the,

“My wife she just-“ He swallows brown eyes wide. “She just went into labor."

"Oh. OH. Well-"

They had been expecting their third child for a while now, something that had resulted from you taking care of Josh and Martha more and more, and Mr. Wilson's promotion at work. You had learned before Mr. Wilson by accident when you reached down to pick up Josh's binky that was on the ground and your ear brushed against Mrs. Wilson's almost completely flat stomach and you heard the heartbeat.

“Please! I’ll pay you triple the hourly rate and her mother will be here tonight to take over for you.” The man looks close to getting on his knees and begging you. "You won't have them for long-"

Have a heart she’s going in to labor. What else is this poor man going to do? Drag the kids there with him? A part of you whispers. But then they'd be stuck here with Ben all day long. Well, maybe he will leave.

“Okay.” You relent with a sigh.

“Thank you!” Mr. Wilson exclaims shoving the bag into your free arm and then disappears from the doorway without saying goodbye to his children, but you were going to cut him some slack. You understood that when a woman went into labor most men didn't understand what to do with that information.

Shit. You grit your teeth to avoid saying it aloud when taking the bag throws you off balance. With one kid still hanging from your leg and the other one hanging from your neck, it was difficult to maneuver with the bag too.

Ben’s hand appears in your line of vision and he takes the bag, practically with one pinky.

“Show off.” You mutter, but turn your attention to the little girl hanging from your leg.

“I want a flower crown!” Martha crows.

“Okay sweetie just give me one second.” You take another step with her holding on to your leg.

“Now!”

“Martha.” Your voice turns stern as you look down at her and she pouts. "Please let me get Josh situated first."

“Fine.” She pouts and lets go of your leg.

The relief you feel is quickly overshadowed by Ben standing there, holding the diaper bag out from his body like it’ll bite him. Honestly you wished you had your phone ready to take a photo of Ben holding the bag, and then use it as blackmail.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Ben asks looking down at the two children confused.

“Shh language!” You snap, eyes widening as you look down at Martha and Josh. Josh has begun to pull your hair from the ponytail at the back of your neck.

"What language?"

You give Ben a death stare wincing when Josh yanks the hair tie out. Martha has let go of your leg and is looking up at Ben with the same fascination that you'd seen her look at Prince Charming from Cinderella.

Guess it works on girls of all ages.

You think about telling her that Ben might be charming from a distance, but he isn't anything like a prince. Honestly, you were more worried that Ben was going to act like a total dick and crush this little girl's heart.

"Hi." She waves her hand at him. "I'm Marty."

Ben stares down at her, as if he's deciding whether or not to say his name aloud. "Ben." His eyes flick back to yours. "What are you doing?"

"We have had the money conversation many times, but I guess you must be getting forgetful in your old age, so we can have it again." You smirk. "Some of us weren’t born with a silver spoon in our mouths or have a trust fund. I don’t have money, therefore, I babysit to get some extra cash sometimes. Hence the children.” You wave your free hand commanding the vines to open up the pantry and grab Josh's high chair out to set up for you. "I told you that I work several jobs."

"What do you mean several? You said that you worked for Butcher and plant guy." Ben huffs, still holding the bag.

"You know his name is Jake. And we live in America if you can't remember. You know? America home of the free, home of the brave single woman trying to make ends meet and pay for her crappy apartment by working fifty million jobs?" You begin to buckle Josh in to the high-chair. "But thanks for showing me how to fix the plumbing under the sink. Definitely going to add that to my job application.

"How many jobs do you have?"

"I mean it’s really what I do when I’m not working for Butcher. I works at the plant shop, I babysit, sometimes I’m a dog walker, oh and there’s this senior living facility a few blocks over that I run errands for when the people living there need me."

"You run errands for senior citizens? What kind of fucking person does that?"

"LANGUAGE! And this freaking person does that thank you. It's not all that bad. Plus I thought you were going to act like them when I first met you, but you are more h-a-n-d-s-y." You spell it out because you don't want the kids to say it. "Oh and I'm also a gardener."

"A gardener?"

"Sometimes." You shrug. "But now that you've met the kids, it's time for you to go."

“What?”

"I don't want him to go." Martha stomps her little foot enclosed in a bright pink sparkly flat.

You ignore her and reach for the table part of the high chair, strapping Josh in. He's wearing an adorable pair of overalls and a teddy bear t-shirt underneath. Despite his early hissy fit in his father's arms, Josh is smiling happily at you, his wild curly black hair sticking up in different directions. “I’m not going to let you be around a kid. You're barely on your best behavior around me."

“What do you think I’m gonna do?”

“I don’t know. Smoke a doobie, roll a doobie, make horrible life choices, drink, curse-“ You cross your arms over your chest and turn to face him, raising an eyebrow.

“You really don’t see me in a positive light.” He smirks at you. It's hard for him to pull off when he's still holding the bright blue bag covered in elephants. It was quilted, probably a knock off Vera Bradley, which only made you wish for your phone even more.

“No I do not.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Fine, just go watch TV in my room. But if you start going through my underwear drawer I swear I will cut off your D-I-C-K.” You spell the word and narrow your eyes, letting them flash bright green to emphasize your point.

Martha is still staring up at Ben, upset at the idea that he's going to go anywhere. "Wait y/n! Please let him stay, he can help me braid Betty's hair!" Betty was Martha's favorite doll, one that you were sure was in the sparkly backpack that hung across her back. Another photo opportunity you did not want to miss.

“I don’t want to go in there.” Ben states.

“Well that’s the first time you’ve ever said that. Usually you’re all for going in my room.” You huff, before turning to look down at Martha. "Alright, you want jasmine like last time? Or do you want some Lavender too?"

"Strawberries!" Martha exclaims.

"Strawberries!" Josh echoes, mashing his meaty fist on the tray not quite comprehending.

"Alright, but you remember. Our little secret right?"

Martha and Josh's parents didn't know you were a supe, they figured that you really liked plants and that Martha's occasional flower crowns came from you manually making them, not from you waving your hand and watching the stems weave together. You weren't sure how the Wilson's would react to finding out that you were a supe. They were more straight laced than you.

Probably also wouldn't like Ben hanging around if they knew who he really was. Actually I'm surprised that Mr. Wilson didn't ask more questions about Ben when he saw him.

Martha nods eagerly.

"Secret?" Ben asks.

"The Wilson's don't know I'm a supe." You murmur so only Ben can hear plucking a strawberry from the plant on your kitchen table. Secretly it was your favorite plant and it was much older than all the others in your apartment, encased in a hand-painted pot.

It was the first plant that you ever grew, sprouted from the chopped strawberries on your high chair tray when you were nine months old. Your parents had potted it inside the house and since then it had never wilted, and it never would. It meant everything to you, weird as that may be, strawberries were like a good luck charm and the plant that sat on your threadbare circular kitchen table was the symbol of your origin story.

"What do they think all the plants are?"

"They just think I like plants." Your eyes are glowing bright green allowing the strawberry in your hands begin to grow a stem and leaves, the stems weaving together to form a circle, sprouting small white flowers that ripen into red fruit, delicately intertwining to create the crown that Martha wants.

She squeals happily when you put it on her head and dances past Ben into the living room on tip-toe.

"You want one too Gramps?" You smirk at Ben.

"Tempting, but no."

"Alright." You look back at Josh, who has begun to chew on his chubby fist. "Are you hungry? I think you're hungry." You turn to look at Ben who is watching Martha do a mock impression of a ballerina with a horrified expression. "Ben can I see the bag?"

His head snaps in your direction. “Why?”

“Because it’s a magical bag with baby food in it.”

He holds it out and you snatch it away.

“Geez. Calm down Petals.” Ben leans against the counter behind you watching you methodically take out the jars. “Now what?”

“Well Sherlock, I’m going to feed the baby.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I know! I know!” Martha screams jumping up with her hand in the air. “Oh please!”

You bite back the urge to laugh. “Yes Marty?” You act as if you're calling on her in class.

“He can help me make friendship bracelets!”

Ben scoffs and rolls his eyes while crossing his arms over his chest. “Like hell I’m gonna-“

*Twenty Minutes Later*

“Please tie another knot for me.”

“No.” Ben grunts

"You're funny." Martha laughs and hands Ben the elastic string so she can start another friendship bracelet.

She was wearing the one that she had spent the last twenty minutes on, a string of bright pink, light pink, hot pink beads, and white pearly stars broken up by the name Marty. Ben had sat there the whole time next to her, pouting while occasionally throwing angry looks at you like it was your fault.

It's not.

You couldn’t understand why he stayed. You figured that he would leave to go on a date or try to escape as soon as Martha mentioned the words "friendship bracelet," but he hadn’t. He sat there at the kitchen table with Martha, whose little legs hung over the front of her chair, her face tight with concentration as she made friendship bracelets.

You’d taken two photos and you were very excited. But you’d been more focused on feeding Josh. He was still eating bits of strawberry and watermelon, but you would give him the occasional bite of teether.

Ben had looked like he was going to throw up when you broke off a piece for yourself.

It wasn't that bad. Kinda like eating a piece of flavored cardboard.

"You really like the watermelon huh?" You ask Josh taking another piece from the plastic container and cutting it up so it's small enough for him to eat.

"Waa waa." Josh mumbles picking up another piece. The red sticky juice was running down his little arms and each time you tried to wipe him off he would scream "No!"

You figured that he had learned that from Martha.

You hold out the circular Tupper-ware of watermelon out to Ben, who takes a piece, still frowning at you the whole time.

He's got to lighten up.

“Benny pick a color for me!” Martha says shuffling her fingers through the organized little boxes of her friendship bracelet kit, the beads rustling loudly against the plastic sides.

"It's Ben."

"Benny!" She whines. "Pick a color."

Ben sighs heavily as if she’d asked him to stab himself. He was probably considering that to get out of this hell. “Green.”

“Light green or dark green?”

“I don’t give a-“

“Ben.” You growl under your breath staring at him.

He sighs again sinking lower in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “Dark green.”

When Martha finishes the bracelet it has light green, dark green, and black beads with brilliant pearly white stars and the name Ben spelled out on the strand. She hands it to him. “This is for you. Now we’re best friends forever.” Her face turns serious. “Guard it with your life.”

Ben holds the bracelet between his thumb and index finger, frowning down at it. For a second you hope that he’s not going to throw it away in front of Martha. You noticed that she was trying to impress him the best she could and even you had to admit that her bracelet making skills were unmatched. You were also a little jealous. She didn’t make one for you.

But then Ben does something you didn’t think you’d ever see him do, but puts it on. “Thanks.” He grunts and Martha’s smile is so wide you’re sure it would blind anyone in a ten mile radius.

You’re surprised, so surprised that you drop the watermelon you had been holding on the ground.

What in the actual fuck is happening? He’s being so nice to her.

“Y/n, pick a color!” Martha shouts handing Ben another piece of elastic to tie a knot in.

“Um- light green.” You say, but you can't look away from Ben.

Am I hallucinating?

You were so shocked at his behavior. Yes he was still being a little bit of a dick, but he hadn't done anything that bad in the time that the children had been here, just occasionally curse.

The bracelet that Martha makes you looks a bit like Ben’s, except you have light green, dark green, purple, and black beads with white pearly stars broken up by your name.

"Thank you Marty." You smile at her and roll it on your wrist.

"Y/n?"

"Yes sweetie?"

"I have to go to the bathroom." She stands from the chair and hops from foot to foot. "I don't want to go by myself, the hallway is scary!"

"Oh okay." As soon as you get up Josh begins to wail, face turning bright red as he does, pounding his little fists against the tray of the high chair, sending pieces of strawberry and watermelon flying everywhere.

Oh shit.

"Hey it's okay Joshie." You unclip him from the high chair and pull him into your arms, bouncing him to make him stop crying.

"Y/nnnnnnnnnn!" Martha whines, continuing to hop from foot to foot. "I really have to go."

"Well I- um." Your eyes dart to where Ben is still sitting at the kitchen table, cringing slightly when Josh gives another particularly loud wail.

Am I really about to do this?

"Ben can you take him for just a second."

"What?" Ben's eyes widen.

"Please? I have to take Marty to the bathroom."

"She can't go by herself? Suck it up or whatever?"

"It's dark Benny!" Martha cries, peering around him down the hallway. "I don't want to go by myself."

"But-" Ben begins to say.

"Please Ben." You plead.

He curses under his breath. "Fine." He stands up and takes Josh from your arms, holding him away from his body in the air with both hands like Josh is a live grenade, which only makes him scream louder.

Martha grabs your hand and begins to drag you down the hallway, while Ben grimaces at the wriggling child in his arms. "Try holding him against your chest." You say to him as Martha continues to pull you towards your small bathroom.

I am definetly getting a night light for this hallway. Then again, she doesn't even like it when the lights are on. She said that the yellow glow looked "creepy." But I don't think I should leave Josh alone with Ben. What if he drops him or kills him or- shit why did I do this.

As soon as Martha is finished and has washed her hands you return to the kitchen prepared for the worst, but then you see Ben. His back is to you, but he's gently bouncing Josh in his arms who giggles happily over Ben's shoulder at you.

"See you just need to man up." You hear Ben say. "The ladies don't like a man who cries kid, take it from me."

You smile to yourself. And if you thought that Ben was gorgeous before, Ben standing with a baby making a baby smile, makes something primal at the back of your mind begin to stir and unfortunately makes every plant in your general vicinity burst into bloom. The smell of gardenia, hibiscus, honeysuckle, and lavender hitting you in a strong wave as they do. You weren't sure what instinct it was, all you knew was that the image of Ben and the baby would be very difficult to wipe from your mind.

"Did you miss me Benny?" Martha shouts coming up behind him, her strawberry crown still perched over her dark braids.

"Um." Ben turns around to look at where you're standing at the edge of the kitchen. He looks a little sheepish, like he didn't want you to catch him with a kid.

That's understandable. Hughie told me how he reacted to seeing a diaper commercial. The guy just doesn't seem to be the most gentle or really loving. And yet look at how he is with Josh.

"Of course he did Marty." You smile rubbing her back. "Right?"

"Sure." Ben sighs, but then he lifts his gaze back up to you. "You shouldn't call her that." Ben grunts.

"Why not?"

"You keep calling her a man's name and everyone is gonna think she's a boy."

You kick Ben hard in the shin.

"Ow. What the fu-" Ben snaps, eyes blazing.

"Marty, why don’t you pick out a movie you want to watch, anything you want." You smile sweetly at her, ignoring Ben's angry glare.

"Anything I want?" She exclaims, eyes bright.

"Anything you want."

She squeals happily and runs to the couch, disrupting Bean who had been watching with contempt from the cushions that line the back. He didn't like the kids as much as Ben did. Bean leaps off the couch and vanishes down the hallway before Martha can catch him.

"I call her that because she asked me to Ben. Don’t say things like that to a five-year old. In fact don't stuff like that at all. It's 2024 not 1920."

"What does that mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean." You frown at him.

"Fine." Ben huffs and rolls his eyes.

"Why are you still here? I thought that you were going to go on a date or whatever it is you do when you're not being forced to work for Butcher?" You say taking Josh from Ben, who fights you as you rub a wipe against his sticky cheeks.

"I didn't want you to be outnumbered Petals." Ben smirks.

"Uh-huh. Sure. Admit it, you really wanted a friendship bracelet."

Ben leans closer to whisper in your ear. "As soon as she leaves, this is going in the trash."

But for some reason you don’t believe him, but at the same time you didn't care, because you had photo evidence on your phone of Soldier Boy making friendship bracelets.

The opening song of Frozen begins to play from the tv behind you and you smile mischievously at Ben.

Now he's in for it.

"You're gonna wish you left Gramps." You snort.

"What do you mean-" Ben starts to say.

And then Martha begins to sing.

After a stunning and masterful performance of the Frozen movie done by Martha that included singing, dancing, and screaming the dialogue back at the tv, followed by Frozen 2, both Josh and Martha have fallen asleep just as the Aristocats began to play, leaving you and Ben to sit in the blessed silence of your apartment with the movie playing quietly in the background.

You were all sitting on the couch, Josh was sleeping on top of you, his little head buried in your left shoulder, while Martha curled up beside you, covered in one of your crochet blankets. Ben was sitting on the other side of Martha, leaning back and avoiding any contact with her feet that occasionally twitched while she slept, scrolling on his phone.

As much as Ben had hated the performance, you think that he might have actually liked Frozen. He'd noted that Elsa was hot, which Martha didn't quite understand and stated "No silly she's cold."

But then Ben followed up the observation by saying "You know, I knew this supe that looked exactly like her, who did this thing with her tong-" and you'd clamped your hand over his mouth and hissed "the kids are too young for that. Frankly I am too." Ben had only smirked at you and for the first time since you'd seen him do that, you smiled.

You didn't think that Ben had been paying attention, given that he had been scrolling on his phone through the entire movie, but he was. Because when Hans betrayed Anna Ben muttered "what a dick" under his breath.

Butcher had called during Frozen 2 and Ben had taken it in the hallway, filling you in quietly when he got back. Tomorrow Butcher wanted the two of you to infiltrate the party and see if the supe showed up to steal any of the cars.

It sounded like a solid plan, but it also meant that you were going to be on a mission alone with Ben, wearing God knows what. The last time Frenchie had stolen a dress for you wear on a mission, you'd practically had a heart attack when you first put it on and then made Annie go instead. You hoped that this time Frenchie got you something a little more, you. But you doubted it.

Plus the whole idea is to not be you genius.

“You’re really good with them.” Ben murmurs from his seat on the other side of the couch interrupting your chain of thought.

“You sound surprised.” You whisper back gently rubbing Josh's back with your hand. “And here I thought you were going to make a misogynistic comment about me having to be good with kids because I’m a woman.”

“I thought about it.” He shrugs shooting you an easy grin that makes you roll your eyes.

“Wouldn’t have expected anything less Gramps.”

You'd be lying if you said you weren't enjoying Ben try to act normal around the children. You liked watching him be all uncomfortable and awkward, especially because he prided himself on being a "big strong man." It was the same look he got in his eyes whenever Mike's mother cornered him.

“So have you been around kids before?” He asks.

“No. I never had any younger siblings, just my older brother. Were you ever around kids?”

You barely knew anything about Ben or his life before becoming Soldier Boy, just all the propaganda that Vought fabricated about his early life. He had called you guarded but he definitely seemed to keep everything closer to his chest. Sometimes you found yourself wishing that he would tell you more. You wanted to know more about him, but another part of you told you that it was a bad idea. You were getting too close to Ben, developing feelings for him, and you knew that it wouldn’t end well.

“Not people I knew. Vought used to send me on tours around America, talking to assemblies at schools.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Do you-“ Ben pauses considering. “Like kids?”

“I mean I like that I get paid to watch them but-“ You look down at the children quietly sleeping between the two of you. “I like these two. I think it kinda depends on the kid.”

He nods and turns his head back towards the tv. Thomas O'Malley has started his song, sauntering along to the tune.

Is it wrong that I think Ben has Thomas O'Malley vibes? Or Kovu from Lion King 2 vibes?

You thought about texting Annie that exact question, but you didn't want to tell her how you spent your day babysitting with Ben. You knew that it would only bring on another onslaught of photoshopped baby pictures and potential baby names.

“Do you want kids?”

“Huh?” You glance over at Ben who is watching you curiously. He was doing that thing again where he acted completely different than how he acted around the team, had been doing it all day long.

“Um-“ You contemplate. “I’m not sure. I’m kinda young or well in my head I am. I think I’d want to wait a little bit.”

“But you do?” He presses.

Why does he want to know that so badly?

“I kinda see myself as a mom.”

Ben’s eyes are studying you. “I think you’d be a good mom.”

The compliment makes you inhale in surprise. Ben had been acting weird all day long, being nice to Martha, wearing the bracelet she made him, sitting with her to watch a movie and listening to her recount the lore behind it. He was being uncharacteristically patient and kind. For another moment you see the possibility of Ben being more than just an angry, horny, jerk, and you try hard not to give in.

“Do you want kids?” You whisper back.

Ben’s expression darkens and he turns back towards the tv, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t say anything for a good two minutes, the silence awkwardly growing between the two of you. “I did.”

“With Countess right?”

He looks at you surprised.

“Hughie told me.” You bite the inside of your cheek. “I’m sorry Ben.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. You’re not the bi-“ He stops and looks down at the kids who are still sleeping silently. “You’re not her, Petals. You don’t have to be.”

“I know that, but still. What she did was shitty.” You whisper the curse word. “You didn’t deserve that. Any of it.”

It was the first time you’d said that to Ben. The first time the two of you would have a conversation about his life before you met him, the life that he seemed to want to forget. You couldn't blame him for that. In fact, the two of you had barely talked before these past few days other than the occasional tease or Ben’s attempt to get you into bed with him. And it was actually kind of nice, learning more about him.

Josh gurgles quietly and you adjust him in your arms, gently rocking him for a moment. Martha stirs but then leans further against your right arm cuddling up against it.

Ben watches you for a minute with the same expression he has when he seems to be unable to understand you and then the mask slips for just a moment, enough for you to see something genuine in his eyes. "Thank you." He murmurs.

"You’re welcome." You reply with a small smile as you turn back to watch the movie, aware of Ben's gaze on you. "Then again I should be thanking you. I couldn't have made it through today without that coffee."

Ben chuckles and leans back against the couch cushions. "You're welcome Petals."

Mr. Wilson's mother in-law shows up to take the kids just as the movie finishes. Ben and you stand there for a moment in the aftermath taking a breath and when you smile at him, Ben actually smiles back.

But before you can ask Ben if he wants to order a pizza or something, he states that he has a date and not to wait up for him as he shrugs into his leather jacket.

And when he goes you try not to notice how quiet the apartment is and how empty it seems without him in it.

A/N: Alright the angst will begin to come NEXT chapter, probably, I promise... I just couldn't get this silly little idea out of my head and I thought why not?

As always thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist or if I missed you on the taglist please let me know :)

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @corruptedcruiser @winchesterwild78 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

@criminalyetminimal @52ndstreeet @bitchykittenconnoisseur @anna6307 @libby99hb

@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro @quietlybitchy @tinydancer40

@roger-that-cap @megara0224 @miskwaadesiwag @rainyeggvoidpurse

@soldiergrimes @tiffsbagels @podiumackles

@ifyouwerethemoon @ririshkin @peachhiz @fitxgrld @sukunassfinger

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @ej13928 @deans-spinster-witch @kr804573 @modiddys-blog

@acciosherlockholmes @minas-fantasies @fireskyy

#soldier boy x you #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy/ben #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #jensen ackles #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy fic

244 notes · View notes

peavhyshy · 7 months

Text

𝗛𝗢𝗡𝗘𝗬𝗠𝗢𝗢𝗡. (oneshot)

Pairing: Prince!Rafe Cameron x Princess!Reader

Summary: Royal/Arranged Marriage AU - in which you find yourself thrust into an arranged marriage with a handsome yet unpredictable prince.

Warnings: mild language, explicit language, period typical language, dubious consent, smut, angst, fluff, suggestive/sexual language, power dynamics/manipulation, classism, misogynistic behavior, possessive behavior, traditional gender roles/expectations around marriage, character development, rough sex, oral sex, fingering, dominance and submission, hair-pulling, marking/biting, and unprotected vaginal sex

Words: 10,863

a/n: this has been in the works for a while, it's kind of long but I hope you enjoy and I also want to make blurbs for this on the side because I didn't want to make this into a series with parts because that too much work and I'm lazy.

Outer Banks Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Honeymoon (song it's based off by lana del rey)

The sunlight filtered through the windows of the lavish bridal room, its gauzy white curtains blowing softly in the afternoon sea breeze. You stood before the three-way mirror, your dress and hair only half done as your friends flitted around you, pinning and primping. Your eyes looked anxious despite your gentle smile.

"I don't know if I can do this, girls," You fretted, brow furrowed. "Rafe seems so...intense. And our families barely know each other! What if he doesn't like me?"

From behind you, Sarah chuckled as she twisted your long curls into an elegant updo. "Trust me, my brother likes what he sees well enough. He may be a cocky jerk sometimes but he could do way worse."

Kiara added dryly from the window seat, "Yeah, like get stuck with somebody boring instead of a kind heart like you. Try to relax. Just be your sweet self and I'm sure you'll win him over."

You sighed. "I'll try. It's just all so much pressure, you know? An entire life and future riding on a few short hours." You turned to peer at your reflection, barely recognizing the woman in the gown. "Do you think I look okay? Not too plain?"

Your friends assured you with smiles. It was almost time. For better or worse, Rafe Cameron would soon be your destiny. You steeled your nerves and prayed this royal match may prove to be no prison, but a partnership made in heaven.

You held your breath as your mother swept into the room, eyes scanning your gowned figure in the mirror with a practiced critical eye.

"Hmm. The dress is adequate I suppose, even if a touch too modest," Lady Smith observed. Her gaze shifted to your face, tightening slightly. "And do try to look a bit happier, darling. A man does not want a sullen bride, no matter her dowry. Remember - you are representing our entire family today. Do strive to be pleasant."

You swallowed back a sigh. "Yes, Mother. I will do my best to charm Prince Rafe and make us all proud."

Your friends' faces radiated empathy. Even they knew how rigorous Lady Smith's standards could be. But then the older woman surprised you all with the barest hint of a smile.

"Have faith, my dear. A marriage is what you and your husband choose to make of it. Now, come - it is nearly time. Chin up and smile as if you've won the lottery. Which, in a way, you have."

With that, she whisked from the room, leaving you to draw a steadying breath. Your friends gave encouraging smiles and squeezed your hands. This was it - for better or worse, your future began now.

The ceremonial hall was awash with sparkling lights and fragrant flowers as dusk fell. Rafe stood tall by the altar, tugging irritably at his stiff collar. His gaze roamed restlessly over the assembled guests while Rose droned on beside him about proper etiquette.

"And remember to look her in the eyes when you say your vows," Rose nattered. "The audience will be hanging on your every word."

Rafe scoffed under his breath. As if he gave a damn about any of these stuffy traditions. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ward approaching, lips pursed in that familiar disapproving frown.

"Try to pay attention, son," Ward rumbled, handing him a small scroll. "These are the terms your betrothed's father expects you to agree to. Mind you, hold up your end of the bargain."

Rafe scanned the endless stipulations with a curl of his lip. As if he was some prize mare to be sold to the highest bidder. But he knew better than to argue.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, tucking away the scroll. His gaze fell on Wheezie's small form near the front, watching him with wide eyes. At least one Cameron was on his side, the innocent little dove that she was.

The trumpets sounded then, signaling the bride's arrival. Showtime. Straightening his uniform jacket, Rafe pasted on his most rakish grin and steeled himself to meet his political match.

His gaze drifted to the double doors at the end of the hall, anticipation and annoyance battling within him. No doubt some meek little flower they'd chosen to shackle him to for the sake of power and status. Still, a small part of him was curious to lay eyes on this Y/N Smith his advisors claimed would make such a perfect royal match.

When the doors swept open, Rafe straightened and schooled his features into a haughty mask of indifference. But the sight that met his gaze gave him pause. There, being escorted down the aisle on your father's arm, was a vision in ivory silk and lace. His brows lifted in surprise at the beauty gliding toward him with eyes demurely downcast. This was his intended bride?

The closer you came, the faster Rafe's pulse raced. Your cheeks were flushed, lips painted pink. Your curls spilled over your shoulders, begging to be toyed with. His gaze roamed lower, taking in the enticing curves and dips of your figure through your gown. A slow smirk spread over his face. Perhaps this evening would prove more enjoyable than anticipated. By the time you lifted your gaze to meet his at the altar, Rafe's ice blue eyes gleamed with heat and the thrill of the hunt. No meek flower here - only a rare, exotic bloom ready to be plucked. And if your quick intake of breath was any indication, the feeling just might be mutual. Excellent.

Rafe's smirk widened at your reaction, noting the pretty blush that rose to your cheeks. His gaze swept over you appreciatively as you took your place beside him, leaning close to murmur in a low, husky tone for your ears alone. "Well now, aren't you a tempting morsel? I do believe I'll enjoy unwrapping my gift later this evening, Mrs. Cameron." His eyes flashed suggestively at the way your breath caught, enjoying how flustered you seemed by his proximity and blunt words. Perhaps the little dove wasn't quite so meek after all. All the better.

Rafe barely paid attention as the pompous old minister droned on, too focused on watching emotions flit across your expressive features. Annoyance, uncertainty, even a spark of temper in those fathomless eyes. His new bride was no giggling debutante, that much was clear. When the time came to recite your vows, his were short and to the point. But the words he chose made your gaze snap to his in surprise.

"To have and to hold, for better and worse, as long as we both shall live. I vow to worship you with my body, protect you with my sword, and share with you all the spoils of my conquests. You are mine, now and always." His thumb brushed your wrist in a possessive caress as he slid the ring onto your finger. "With this ring, I pledge to you my heart, and swear you shall never want for passion."

Rafe couldn't resist adding in a husky undertone as the minister pronounced them man and wife, "Pucker up, princess. Time for the fun part." His arm slid around your waist and he dipped you dramatically, sealing your vows with a searing kiss as your audience erupted into raucous cheers.

Your eyes went wide as Rafe's arm wrapped around your waist, and before you could protest his lips descended onto yours in a scorching kiss. Your first instinct was to squirm away, unused to such public displays of affection - but his strong arms held you in place, and after a moment you found yourself melting into the kiss. By the time Rafe lifted his head, Your cheeks were flaming and you were breathless.

Rafe's smug chuckle brought you back to yourself. "Cat got your tongue, wife?" He teased, eyes gleaming. You huffed, straightened and attempted to smooth your disheveled hair and gown.

"Must you always be so…so…" You struggled for the right word, and Rafe quirked a brow.

"Charming? Irresistible? I can't help my natural talents, love."

You rolled your eyes. "I was going to say incorrigible."

Rafe laughed, the sound rich and warm. "Ah, there's that spark I've been waiting to see. Don't worry, I'll have you swooning in my arms soon enough."

"You're certainly confident in yourself, aren't you?" You remarked dryly. Rafe's grin only widened.

"With good reason. But come now wife, no need to be shy." He leaned close, breath fanning your ear. "The bedding ceremony awaits us, unless you'd care to give our guests a show right here?"

You gasped, shoving at his chest though your heart raced at his words. "You're despicable!"

Rafe caught your hand, bringing it to his lips. "All part of my charm, princess. Now, shall we?" He offered his arm, eyes dancing with mirth at your discomfort.

You huffed, pulling your hand away. "Must you be so arrogant and crass? There are proper ways to speak to a lady, as I'm sure you know."

Rafe's grin only widened at your annoyance. "Proper is boring. I prefer to speak my mind, and right now it's full of how ravishing you look in that gown. Can you blame a man for being eager to peel it off?"

Your cheeks flamed at his bold words. "You forget yourself, Your Highness. We've only just met."

Rafe leaned close, breath hot on your ear. "We're man and wife now, pet. No need to stand in the ceremony." His gaze swept over your figure appreciatively. "I always get what I want, and right now that's you in my bed. But we'll take things slow…at first."

You bristled at his arrogance, grasping for a retort, but found yourself speechless. Your heart raced with a mix of irritation, anticipation and uncertainty. You knew your duty here today, had steeled yourself for a political match and indifferent spouse. But Rafe Cameron seemed determined to sweep you off your feet, whether you willed it or not.

Rafe chuckled at your loss for words, offering his arm. "Come, the revelry awaits us. And after…" His eyes gleamed suggestively, "The real fun begins."

You swallowed hard, slipping your arm through his. Your mother was right, this marriage was what you chose to make of it. But something told you life with this wickedly charming scoundrel of a prince would be anything but boring. For better or worse, your destiny was sealed - and as Rafe led you into the cheering crowd, you couldn't deny a thrill of excitement amid your doubts. Your story was only just beginning.

Rafe guided you into the lavish ballroom, nodding at the trumpeters to announce your arrival. As the first strains of a lively waltz filled the air, he turned to you with a roguish grin and swept you into his arms.

"Time for our first dance as husband and wife, princess. Try not to swoon, I know I'm irresistible." Rafe's eyes gleamed with mirth at your huff of annoyance, though you had little choice but to follow as he led you in the steps of the dance. His hand rested scandalously low on your back, holding you close as you spun and dipped across the floor.

By the time the music ended, You was flushed and breathless in his arms. Rafe smirked, enjoying your flustered state, but before he could tease you further a throat cleared behind them.

"If you don't mind, I'll take over from here."

They turned to find your father, Lord Smith, eyeing Rafe sternly. Rafe gave a curt nod, handing you off to the grim-faced man.

"Of course, father-in-law. I was merely warming her up for you." Rafe's sly undertone earned him a reproachful glare from you before you allowed your father to lead you in the next dance.

Rafe stood back, crossing his arms over his chest, when Rose appeared at his side. "Must you provoke her so? She is your wife now, try to be kind."

Rafe scoffed. "She knows my nature well enough. Life would be dreadfully boring without challenges." His gaze drifted back to you, a smile tugging at his lips when you dared a glance in his direction. Rose sighed, patting his arm.

"Be gentle to her.” Rafe's gaze landed on Ward approaching, lips pursed in disapproval as usual. Before his father could lecture him, Rafe turned to your mother with an exaggerated bow.

"Lady Smith, your daughter is a vision. I trust she'll make a fine princess." His charming smile didn't reach his eyes.

Lady Smith's gaze was coolly assessing. "Indeed. Do try to behave yourself, Your Highness. My girl is gentle bred and undeserving of your…roguish tendencies."

Rafe's smile turned wolfish. "Not to worry, I'll be on my best behavior. In public, at least." His suggestive undertone made Lady Smith's eyes narrow.

"Mother, must you provoke him so?" You sighed as you rejoined them. Your gaze shifted between Rafe and your mother anxiously.

Rafe chuckled, sliding an arm around your waist. "No need to fret, princess. I was merely exchanging pleasantries with your charming mother."

Ward's voice rumbled behind Rafe. "If you're quite finished, the receiving line awaits you both."

Rafe suppressed an eye roll, turning to greet his younger sisters. Sarah's gaze was assessing, while little Wheezie beamed up at the newlyweds.

"You look so pretty, Y/N!" Wheezie gushed. "I hope you'll still come visit me, now that you're a princess."

You smiled, bending to embrace the girl. "Of course, whenever I can. And you must come see me too."

Rafe watched the exchange with a mix of fondness and annoyance. His littlest sister had always been too softhearted. But seeing your sweet nature with Wheezie gave him hope this match may not prove entirely intolerable.

Ward cleared his throat, Rafe bristled at his father's impatience, but couldn't fault Wheezie's enthusiasm. His littlest sister had always been too softhearted for her own good. Still, seeing your sweet smile as you embraced Wheezie gave Rafe a flicker of hope this match may not prove entirely intolerable. If you could win over even his most skeptical family members, you just might stand a chance.

Rafe turned to his father with a mocking bow. "As you wish, Your Majesty. Mustn't keep the adoring masses waiting." His sarcastic tone earned an eye roll from Sarah, ever the voice of reason. Rose simply sighed, patting Rafe's arm as he passed.

"Behave," she murmured. Rafe just chuckled, offering his arm to you.

"Shall we, wife? Our public awaits." You glanced between your families anxiously before accepting his arm. Rafe patted your hand, pitching his voice low. "No need to fret, pet. I don't bite…hard." His roguish wink brought a blush to your cheeks.

As you made your way to the receiving line, Rafe found his gaze drawn again and again to your expressive features. Your reactions were simply too amusing. While your guests and courtiers showered you with congratulations and well wishes, he watched emotions flit across your face - uncertainty, annoyance, even curiosity. His new bride was an open book, though your courteous smiles revealed none of the thoughts behind your fathomless eyes. Rafe was determined to unlock all your mysteries, one by tantalizing one.

Rafe allowed you to guide him to your seats at the head table, though his gaze strayed often to his friends at a nearby table. Topper and Kelce were regaling each other with tales of previous sailing adventures, no doubt in anticipation of the race Rafe had every intention of winning. His competitive nature chafed at being stuck here making polite conversation when he could be out on the open water.

You seemed to sense his restlessness, offering a gentle smile as you tucked a napkin into Wheezie's lap. "There now, all tidy. I do hope you'll save room for dessert, little dove."

Wheezie beamed up at you, her new sister-in-law. "I will! Cook always makes the best cakes. Are you excited for your wedding trip?"

Your smile turned rueful. "I suppose so. Traveling somewhere new is always an adventure." your gaze flitted uncertainly to Rafe.

Rafe snorted. "Adventure is what I live for, pet." His gaze swept over you boldly. "Though I daresay our wedding night will prove enough of an adventure."

Your cheeks flamed at his innuendo, gaze darting to Sarah in appeal. Sarah rolled her eyes at her brother's antics. "Honestly Rafe, must you be so crude?"

Rafe just chuckled, leaning back in his seat as servants began delivering the lavish courses of their meal. His attention drifted often to his friends, ignoring the disapproving glares of their parents discussing terms of the marriage arrangement. There will be time enough for politics and responsibility tomorrow. Tonight was meant for revelry and chasing whatever pleasures caught his fancy. And at the moment, his new bride was proving an intriguing diversion.

His gaze slid back to you, watching as you laughed with Sarah and Wheezie. Rafe picked at the lavish dishes set before him, paying little mind to the chatter around him. His gaze kept straying to you, noting how animated you seemed speaking with Sarah and Wheezie. At least his sisters appeared taken with his new bride, if the way they hung on your every word and laughed at your silliest comments were any indication. Their obvious delight gave Rafe hope this match may prove more tolerable than anticipated.

Still, his restless nature chafed at the forced pleasantries and pomp of this grand occasion. He longed to be out sailing with his crew, chasing the thrill of adventure on the open sea. As if sensing his wayward thoughts, Kelce leaned around Topper with a sly grin.

"When's the race, man? This fancy shindig is dreadfully dull."

Rafe smirked. "Patience, Kelce. We set sail at first light, and not a moment sooner. Wouldn't do to abandon my own wedding feast, as tempting as it may be."

Topper chuckled. "Think of the gossip that would stir. The new princess, jilted on her wedding night by a scoundrel of a husband!"

Rafe snorted. "As if I'd miss unwrapping that particular gift." His gaze slid suggestively over your figure, lingering on the curve of your neck and the stray curls that had escaped your elegant updo. Anticipation thrummed in his veins at the thought of finally claiming his passionate new bride.

Kelce followed Rafe's gaze with a grin. "Can't say I blame you, mate. Seems you've landed quite the prize, for a political match."

Rafe's smile turned wolfish. "Aye, and she'll make a fine figurehead aboard my ship."

Topper laughed and Rafe's attention kept straying to you, watching as you chatted and laughed with his sisters. Your sweet smile and gentle manner seemed to put even the most hesitant guests at ease. Though he'd never admit it aloud, Rafe found himself grudgingly impressed by your poise and social graces. You were clearly in your element, greeting courtiers and chatting with servants alike as if you hadn't a care in the world.

A nudge at his elbow drew Rafe's gaze to Kelce, who had abandoned all pretense of propriety and was lounging in his seat with a goblet of wine in hand. "So when's the real party start, eh mate?" Kelce grinned with a suggestive waggle of his brows. "Looks like you landed a lively one. Bet she's a wildcat behind closed doors."

Rafe snorted, taking a swig of his own wine. "Wouldn't you like to know. A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."

"Since when are you a gentleman?" Topper scoffed from Kelce's other side. Rafe shot him an obscene gesture, earning chuckles from his uncouth friends.

"Perhaps we'll have to arrange a private showing for you two scoundrels. I'm sure my bride would be delighted to entertain." Rafe's sarcastic remark was rewarded by Kelce's bark of laughter.

"Now that's an offer I might take you up on!" Kelce's eyes gleamed with mischief as they drifted to you. Rafe's gaze narrowed, a spark of annoyance flaring to life.

"In your dreams, mate. This one's all mine." Rafe's arm shot out to grasp Kelce's shoulder in a bruising grip, smile turning dangerous.

'So, Rafe what's your plans with my lovely Y/N?'' Your father asks.

Rafe's gaze snapped to Lord Smith, who was eyeing him expectantly across the table. He suppressed a scowl at the interruption, forcing his grip on Kelce's shoulder to relax as he leaned back in his seat.

"I plan to show the princess the time of her life, of course," Rafe replied with a roguish smirk. "Starting with a grand tour of my kingdom. She shall want for nothing as my wife."

Lord Smith's eyes narrowed slightly. "See that she doesn't. My daughter is gentle bred, and I'll not have her spirit broken by some scoundrel of a husband."

Rafe bristled at the insult but kept his tone light. "Not to worry, father-in-law. Your daughter is in capable hands." His gaze slid suggestively to you, watching in amusement as you seemed to sense the scrutiny and glanced between them uncertainty.

Lord Smith snorted. "Capable of chasing anything in skirts, so I hear. I warn you now, if any harm comes to my daughter through your…philandering ways…"

"You have my word as a gentleman," Rafe cut in through gritted teeth. "Y/N shall remain untouched by scandal. My duty is to her and her alone now."

Lord Smith seemed unconvinced, but gave a curt nod. "See that you remember that. She is still young, and deserves a chance at happiness." His stern gaze swept over Rafe in assessment. "Do not make me regret this match."

Rafe shrugged off the threat, patience already wearing thin. "If there's nothing else, I believe I shall steal my bride away for a dance." He stood abruptly, pushing back from the table to stride around its length and offered you his arm with an exaggerated bow.

"May I have this dance, princess?'' *Rafe turned back to Lord Smith with a mocking bow and dangerous smile. “Not to worry, father-in-law. I always take excellent care of my possessions.” His suggestive undertone brought a scowl to the older man’s face.

Before Lord Smith could retort, Rafe grasped your hand and tugged you from your seat. “Come, wife. I’ve been patient long enough.”

You glanced uncertainly between Rafe and your father. “But, the toasts…”

“Can wait.” Rafe’s grip on your wrist tightened, brooking no argument. Your gaze narrowed at his peremptory tone but you allowed him to lead you onto the dance floor.

Rafe smirked at your obvious annoyance, spinning you into a lively waltz. “You’ll have to get used to obeying my commands, pet. I’m not a man who takes no for an answer.”

You huffed, attempting to pull away, but Rafe’s arm around your waist held you in place. “Unhand me, you arrogant beast!”

Rafe chuckled at your fruitless struggles, leaning close to purr in your ear. “Now is that any way to speak to your husband, wife?” His breath fanned hot on your neck, and Rafe felt a thrill of satisfaction when your breath caught. “Best get used to my beastly ways, pet. The night is young, and I’ve only just begun to claim what’s mine…”

You gasped at his audacious words, cheeks flaming. “You forget yourself, Prince Rafe!” Your protests only made Rafe’s wicked grin widen.

“Not at all, princess.” His eyes gleamed with heat and the thrill of the chase. “I know exactly who I am, and what I want.”

As the final courses of the lavish meal were cleared away, Rafe turned to you with a roguish grin. "Well wife, time for your tour of our kingdom. I have a surprise for you." He signaled to a nearby servant, who approached with a bow. "Take the princess for a turn about the grounds and gardens. Show her all our kingdom has to offer."

The servant nodded. "As you wish, Your Highness." His gaze slid to you with a familiar smile. "Your Highness."

Your eyes went wide with recognition. "JJ? Is that really you?" You grasped the servant's hands eagerly. "Oh, it's wonderful to see you! I had no idea you were working here."

Rafe lifted a brow, not having anticipated this happy reunion. Evidently his bride and this JJ Maybank were already acquainted. "You two know each other?"

You smiled. "We grew up together, before JJ's family moved into the city." Your gaze shifted between Rafe and the servant anxiously. "I do hope it's alright for us to catch up…"

Rafe waved a hand dismissively. "By all means. You're free to go where you like, I have other matters to attend to at the moment." His gaze slid pointedly to where Kelce and Topper were already deep in their cups, toasting loudly to his good fortune. You followed his gaze, cheeks coloring slightly.

"Thank you, husband." Your courtesy seemed strained. Rafe simply inclined his head.

"Enjoy your stroll, princess. I'll come find you later this evening, there are more…private celebrations in store." His suggestive tone brought a blush to your cheeks as he strode off to join his friends.

As JJ led you through elaborate gardens and courtyards, your anxiousness gave way to delight. "Oh, it's so lovely here! All these flowers, and fountains…I can see why you enjoy working in the palace gardens."

JJ smiled, patting your hand. "Aye, it's peaceful work. I'm glad to see a friendly face, even under these circumstances." His gaze turned sympathetic. "How are you faring, Y/N? I was worried when I heard of this arrangement."

You sighed. "As well as can be expected, I suppose. Prince Rafe is…not at all what I imagined." your brows furrowed, uncertain how much you dared confide in your old friend.

JJ snorted. "No doubt. He’s got a reputation for being wild. But don't you worry, I'll keep an eye out and make sure he treats you well."

You smiled at his protectiveness. "Thank you, JJ, but I'm capable of handling my own husband. It may take some getting used to, but this match could secure a bright future for my family. I have to at least give it a chance." your gaze drifted back toward the distant palace, where even now Rafe was likely carousing with his friends.

JJ followed your gaze, brows pinching with concern. "Just…promise me you'll be careful. There’s a dangerous streak in him. I don't want to see you get hurt."

"I appreciate your concern." You squeezed his arm. "But Rafe is my husband now, for better or worse. I have to make my own judgments, and hope this marriage becomes more than just political."

JJ sighed, realizing your mind was made up. "You always did see the good in people.”

You nodded and bid JJ farewell with a wave and a promise to visit him again soon in the gardens. As you made your way back toward the palace, a young maidservant approached and curtsied.

"Begging your pardon, Your Highness, but it's time to prepare you for the evening. If you'll follow me, please."

You nodded, allowing the girl to lead you to an elaborate set of chambers. Your eyes went wide taking in the lavish space, draped in silks and velvets of deep red and gold. At the center was an enormous canopied bed, and adjoining the main room were a dressing chamber and bathing room aglow with the light of a crackling fire.

The maidservant curtsied again. "The prince bid me draw you a bath and help you...prepare for the evening, Your Highness. Please, disrobe and I'll assist you."

You blinked at the girl, cheeks heating at the implication. You were no stranger to the wedding night obligations awaiting you, but to have it stated so boldly...

With shaking fingers you began removing the heavy layers of your wedding gown, aided by two more maidservants who appeared. In a matter of minutes you stood in just your thin shift, anxiously clutching the fabric as the servants poured steaming water into an ornate tub and added fragrant oils.

The lead maid turned to you with a gentle smile. "The water is ready, Your Highness. Do not be afraid, we are here to help you bathe and make yourself presentable for the prince's pleasure."

"You look beautiful, my lady," one maid assured her. "The prince will be most pleased."

You swallowed hard, allowing the servants to help you step out of your shift and sink into the hot, scented water. As they began bathing your hair and softly chattering about how beautiful you looked, how pleased the prince would be, your anxiety gave way to anticipation.

"There now, you look exquisite." The head maid gave an approving nod.

Your apprehension slowly melted into calm as the maidservants gently bathed your hair and skin. The warm, floral-scented water soothed your nerves, as did their soft reassurances. When they finished, you stepped from the ornate tub and allowed them to pat you dry with soft towels.

Smiling encouragingly, the maids led you into the adjoining dressing chamber. Lacy smallclothes and a gossamer nightdress were laid out atop the silken sheets. With deft fingers, the maids slid the delicate garments over your frame, then bid you to sit before the vanity while they brushed out your damp curls.

"Just a touch of color for your lips and cheeks, my lady," the head maid murmured, dabbing rouge onto your mouth. "There now, perfect. The prince will be beside himself when he sees how lovely you look."

You studied your reflection, almost unrecognizing yourself. But the muted excitement in your eyes was unmistakable. However brash he was, Rafe's obvious desire flattered your feminine pride. And despite your differences, you had to admit a spark of anticipation for what was to come.

With a last few primping touches, the maids curtsied and took their leave. Alone now, you sat perched on the edge of the bed to wait. Your heart pounded and you twisted the wedding rings on your finger. Whatever happened tonight, your life would be forever changed.

As Rafe strode into the lavish chambers prepared for your wedding night, his gaze immediately found You perched on the edge of the massive bed. The sight of you in the sheer nightdress, hair spilling over your shoulders, sent a bolt of desire through him. His hungry gaze roamed over you, taking in the rapid rise and fall of your chest, your knuckled grip on the bed sheets. Smirking, he shrugged out of his formal jacket and began stalking toward you.

"Well now, what a tempting little morsel we have here," he purred, bracing his hands on either side of you and caging you in. "You look good enough to devour, princess."

He noted how your breath caught as he traced a finger along your collarbone. "What's the matter, love?" Rafe chuckled darkly at your wide-eyed look. "Not to worry, I'll have you singing for me soon enough…"

With that promise, his mouth descended on yours in a ruthless kiss. His large hands grasped your waist, pulling you firmly against him. Breaking the kiss, he murmured hotly in your ear, "I've been waiting all night for this. To finally make you mine…"

Rafe's hands slid slowly up your sides, his gaze never leaving your wide eyes. With a sinful smirk he inched the nightdress higher, exposing more of your thighs. The tips of his calloused fingers grazed your bare hip, relishing how you shuddered at the intimate caress.

"So soft…Have you any idea how long I've waited to get my hands on this sweet body?" Rafe's husky voice dripped with lust.

With tantalizing slowness, he urged you back onto the plush mattress. The silk sheets enveloped your bare skin as Rafe's solid frame covered yours. His mouth found the frantic pulse at your throat, nipping and sucking a mark into the tender flesh.

Rafe's strong hands glided up to cup your breasts through the thin nightdress, thumbs teasing your nipples into stiff peaks. The sensation tore a gasp from your lips, only encouraging him further. Grinning wolfishly, Rafe ground his pelvis down, letting you feel the rigid length of his cock straining against his trousers.

"Feel what you do to me, sweetheart…You're mine now, to take whenever and however I please." His hungry gaze devoured you, eyes burning with lust and primal need. "Say it," he demanded. "Tell me you're mine…"

A shudder tore through your frame at the feel of Rafe's hardness grinding against your thigh. Your wide eyes flickered between desire and apprehension as his hands slid higher, rucking up the diaphanous nightdress to bare more of your skin.

"So perfect…and all mine," Rafe rasped, ducking his head to capture one nipple between his teeth. You gasped at the exquisite sting, every nerve in your body hyper aware of his Rough palms gliding over your skin. As his mouth blazed a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your quivering stomach, your nails bit into his shoulders.

"Rafe, I—" Your breathy protest was cut off with a squeak as his fingers hooked into your lacy smallclothes, tearing them off in one smooth motion.

"Shh…just feel, princess." Rafe's smirk was pure sin, eyes blazing cobalt as he nudged your thighs apart. The first stroke of his tongue against your pussy tore a strangled cry from your lips. Without mercy, be he devoured you, growling his satisfaction as your hips rocked unbidden against the delicious onslaught.

"Let me hear how much you want this." Rafe's rasping words vibrated against your aching core. Your head thrashed wildly on the pillows, coherent thought lost in a haze of overwhelming sensation. Soon you were re keening and trembling on the brink, utterly at his mercy.

The look of utter surrender in your eyes stoked the fire in Rafe's blood. His tongue lashed your stiff clit as you trembled, thighs clenching around his shoulders. So close now, teetering on the edge.

Rafe slid two thick fingers into your slick folds, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot. You wailed, arching violently as your orgasm crashed over you. Rafe groaned as your pussy walls clenched and spasmed around his pumping fingers, milking them greedily.

Grinning wolfishly, Rafe rose up over you. His heated gaze raked over your flushed, perspiring body as you came down from the high of ecstasy. "That's just a preview, darling," he rasped, fingers swiftly unlacing his trousers to free his straining cock. "Now for the main event…"

With a groan, Rafe buried himself balls-deep in one swift stroke. So tight, so wet and hot for him. He gave you no time to adjust, setting a brutal pace right from the start. Your legs locked around his pistoning hips instinctively. Your broken cries sent a vicious thrill through him.

Rafe fisted his hand in your damp curls, yanking to expose the delicate curve of your throat. His teeth sank into the tender flesh, marking what was his. "Tell me you belong to me now. Say it."

When you only whimpered and clawed at his sweat-slick back, Rafe snarled. His arms caged you in, hips snapping harder. "Say it!"

You yelp and wince when he pulls your hair whimpering and burying your face in the crook of his neck still shaking from the force and intensity of your soft lips part to whimper out.

"I’m yours, only yours Rafe…" just barely above a whisper

Your hands grip his shoulders for support, your body limps under his as you pant softly raising your hips to meet his powerful thrusts.

Rafe gentled his hold in your hair, fingers massaging your scalp in reward. You were learning. His other hand slid under your hips, angling them up to take him deeper on each brutal thrust. Your breathy pants and cries were music to his ears.

"That's it, good girl," he panted gruffly. Your compliance pleased him, stroked his dominance. He could feel your body gradually yielding, soft thighs parting wider, hands clutching him instead of pushing away. Rafe kept a relentless pace, pounding into your tight pussy as the headboard slammed against the stone wall. His mouth found yours, swallowing your whimpers in a ravaging kiss.

When he finally spilled with a shout, Rafe made certain to grind against your aching clit, determined to drag you over the peak with him. As you shattered again with a broken wail, he groaned his satisfaction. Your mingled release soaked the sheets beneath you. Rafe remained buried inside your trembling body, chest heaving he stared down at you with possessive intensity burning in his eyes.

"You're mine forever now, Never forget who owns you…"

Your head falls back breathing raggedly, wincing at the burning pain between your thighs. Your body feels used and exhausted. You blink slowly staring up at him with glazed eyes. You knew that your life would never be the same. That this man..this husband of yours would use your body as he pleased from now on. That intense stare of possession makes you shy away, turning your head and closing your eyes.

He grinned wolfishly as you shyly turned your face away, unable to meet his intense gaze a moment longer. Rafe didn't mind; your demure submission pleased him, as did the colorful marks and love bites his rough passion had left on your throat and breasts. His little wife was well and truly his now. Rafe gentled his hold, fingers almost tender as they brushed the damp curls back from your temple. He pressed a chaste kiss there before murmuring gruffly, "Sleep now, You've earned your rest tonight."

He grinned against your heated skin as you gave a whimper of relief. Gathering you close against his chest, Rafe settled you amidst the rumpled sheets. One leg draped possessively over yours, holding you pinned beneath him as his hand splayed wide over your belly. You were caught, well and truly.

As your breaths evened out in exhausted slumber, Rafe nuzzled into your tousled hair with a satisfied noise.

Early morning sunlight filtered into the lavishly appointed bedchamber, sitting up, you drew the silk bedding around your bare form as you gazed around the empty room. Aside from yourself, there was no evidence Prince Rafe had even been there save the lingering ache between your thighs. You couldn't deny a pang of disappointment he hadn't lingered to greet you this morning. Then again, perhaps it was for the best; after last night you felt uncertain how to act around your new husband.

With a sigh, you rose and donned a silk robe left draped across a nearby chaise. You made your way to the window overlooking the palace grounds, hoping the fresh sea air might clear your mind. Your thoughts drifted back to the prior evening. This marriage would require much patience and understanding on both your parts.You nurtured a glimmer of hope. With time and care, perhaps you and Rafe could build something beautiful.

After taking a moment to appreciate the ocean view, you turned and began getting ready for the day ahead. You dressed yourself in a pale blue gown left for you, simple yet elegant. After tidying your hair you ventured out into the opulent hallway in search of familiar faces.

It wasn't long before you happened upon Sarah, Wheezie, and Kiara chatting together in one of the palace's lush sitting rooms. You hesitated in the doorway, suddenly feeling shy. But Wheezie looked up and broke into a delighted smile.

"Y/N! You're finally awake, come join us!" The young girl bounded over to catch your hands, leading you inside. Sarah and Kiara both greeted you warmly as you settled onto a sofa beside them.

"We were hoping you'd surface today," Sarah said with a knowing smile. "After the…activities of last night."

You felt your cheeks heat at the implication and Kiara swatted Sarah's arm. "Oh leave her be, I'm sure she doesn't want to dwell on all that." Kiara's kind eyes settled on you. "How are you feeling today?"

You offered a shy smile. "Still a bit overwhelmed, I suppose. This is all so new." your gaze drifted around the elegant room and you exhaled. "I don't think it's fully sunk in yet that I live here now."

Wheezie took your hand, giving it an excited squeeze. "Isn't the palace marvelous? I can give you a full tour later if you'd like."

You laughed softly at the girl's enthusiasm. "I would enjoy that very much, thank you Wheezie." you felt yourself relaxing, warmth swelling in your chest to be surrounded by supportive faces both old and new. Whatever uncertainties awaited in this unfamiliar life, at least you needn't face them alone.

You smile and say "So..um..did you three hear much noise last night?" you asked embarrassed.

Wheezie tilts her head confused but Kiara and Sarah exchange a look, Kiara says "These walls are quite thick don't worry" she reassures.

Sarah smirks and says "I'm sure my dear brother was a perfect gentleman" sarcasm in her voice,

You felt your cheeks flush hotly at Sarah's teasing remark. You cleared your throat, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear self-consciously.

"Well…I mean, of course everything was proper," You stammered, avoiding direct eye contact. In truth, Rafe had been anything but a gentleman once you were alone together. The memories made you shift in your seat.

Kiara shot Sarah a scolding look before turning a sympathetic gaze on you. "I'm sure your first night together was an adjustment. But you know you can talk to us about anything, right? We're here for you."

You nodded, giving your hand a supportive squeeze. "Don't let my scoundrel brother intimidate you. He may act the rogue, but you have a strength in you as well. I saw it at your wedding." Sarah's eyes were earnest. "You're family now. We'll help you figure each other out."

You nodded, offering a small but grateful smile. Perhaps in time you would feel comfortable opening up about the complicated feelings Rafe stirred in you, the exhilaration and uncertainty. But for now, his vulnerabilities were yours to guard.

Wheezie, bless her smiled brightly. "I'm so happy you're my new sister! We're going to have such fun together."

You laughed softly, warmth swelling in your chest. With Sarah and Kiara's wisdom and Wheezie's sweet spirit, you knew you could face this daunting new future. You were no longer alone.

Just then, the head housemaid approaches the women, curtsying politely. "Pardon me, Your Highnesses, but His Majesty King Ward has requested Princess Lila's presence for a private brunch on the veranda. Shall I inform the kitchens to begin preparations?"

You blink in surprise but nod to the maid. "Yes, please let the king know I would be honored to join him." You turn back to the other ladies after the maid departs. "Well, it seems my father-in-law wishes to speak with me alone. I suppose I should change into something more proper." You stand a bit nervously. This would be your first real interaction with the imposing monarch.

"Father can seem intimidating but he appreciates sincerity. And don't let him bully you into anything you're uncomfortable with."

You bid farewell to your friends and made your way back to the bedchambers to ready yourself for the impending brunch with King Ward. Your stomach fluttered anxiously as you mulled over what he could want to discuss in private.

After freshening up, you carefully selected an elegant mint green day dress with billowing elbow-length sleeves from the wardrobe. You style your hair in a simple yet tidy braided updo and affix a minimal amount of jewelry - a delicate silver pendant necklace and teardrop pearl earrings. A hint of rose gloss on your lips completed the refined look.

Smoothing the skirts of your dress, You exhaled a steadying breath as you regarded your reflection. You hoped your attire properly conveyed the right mix of grace and poise while still retaining your own simple style. As you made your way through the opulent halls towards the veranda, you tried to quell the butterflies in your stomach. You had no reason to be so nervous; after all, you would one day be queen beside Rafe. Proving yourself an able partner who could hold your own was crucial.

Upon arriving at the sunny veranda, you were greeted by the sight of King Ward already seated at a table lavishly arrayed with brunch fare. At your approach, he stood and offered a formal bow.

"Princess Y/N, thank you for accepting my invitation. Please, sit."

You dipped into a curtsy before taking the seat opposite Ward. you met his gaze evenly, resolving to show no weakness. This may be just a brunch, but you sensed the king was assessing your mettle. You would rise to the challenge.

"The honor is mine, Your Majesty. To what do I owe the pleasure of this private audience?" Your tone was polite yet confident. The gleam in Ward's eye told you this was exactly his intent - to take your measure beyond the pomp and flair of the wedding. You straightened your spine, ready to prove your worth.

Ward looks at you curiously before taking a sip of his tea "I wished to speak with you privately, away from the commotion of the palace to get to know my new daughter in law better. This marriage was quick and sudden, but binding our families will be good for the kingdom." He explains.

"Now.." he folds his hands on the table and looks at you intently "Tell me about yourself Y/N, what are your interests?" He asks kindly, wanting to understand your personality and character better.

You relaxed slightly at Ward's polite small talk, offering a gracious smile as you prepared your tea. "Of course, Your Majesty. I appreciate you taking the time to get to know me better outside of all the wedding bustle."

You take a thoughtful sip of your tea before continuing. "Well, I've always enjoyed reading and learning whenever I can. Our library at home was my favorite place to spend long afternoons." A wistful look crosses your face at the memories.

"I also love music - singing, playing the harpsichord. Art and photography are passions of mine as well. Capturing a moment of beauty to appreciate again and again." Your eyes brighten describing your hobbies.

"But I also recognize the importance of being an active participant in the community. I assisted our local orphanage regularly and enjoyed volunteering at functions." You meet Ward's gaze. "I believe those in positions of privilege have an obligation to use their place to aid others. I hope to continue that here."

You pause, glancing at Ward hesitantly. "I know I have much to learn when it comes to politics and courtly matters. But I'm eager to play my role serving the people, and to support Rafe's reign as a strong partner."

You fold your hands in your lap. "I may seem simple on the surface, but I have layers yet to be uncovered. Given time, I know I could thrive here as a princess." You kept your chin lifted, showing sincerity and determination in the face of Ward's intense scrutiny.

Ward considers your words carefully, looking thoughtful as he sips his tea. Finally he sets down his cup and leans back in his seat, steepling his fingers.

"A commendable answer. You show wisdom beyond your years, Y/N, as well as a refreshing earnestness." One corner of his mouth quirks upward. "Far better than the vapid socialites I feared Rafe might foist upon us."

You had to suppress a smile at Ward's dry humor. The king regards you keenly.

"My son has always followed his passions, often recklessly. He will need a partner of substance who can balance his…impulsiveness, and check his wilder whims. From our limited interactions, I believe you may have the mettle needed to temper his nature, in time."

He tilts his head, eyes assessing. "The question is, do you have the will? Rafe can be stubborn, even cruel when provoked. This role will require patience and resilience.

You meet Ward's gaze levelly. "I understand the challenges, Your Majesty. But I intend to face them. Rafe may be impulsive, but he needs compassion to steady him, not control." You keep your voice firm but respectful. "I believe we can forge something stronger together."

Ward stares at you pensively before cracking the barest smile. "Well said. Perhaps you are the making of each other." He lifts his teacup in salute. "I look forward to seeing what unfolds between you two. The road will not be smooth, but you strike me as a girl who finishes what she starts."

You dip your head graciously at the veiled praise, hope blooming in your chest. If you can earn even this guarded man's approval, perhaps you truly have a chance to thrive in this strange new home.

After the brunch you go for a walk around the palace grounds, you hum softly looking at all the flowers. You find a bench under a willow tree near the royal cemetery. Sitting down you close your eyes enjoying the warm breeze. After a little while you hear leaves crunching behind you and turn to see Rafe approaching. His hair is windswept, eyes tired, and his shirt is half unbuttoned. He looks stressed about something. Noticing you sitting there he stops and sighs running a hand through his messy hair. "oh..hey.." he greets plainly, unsure what to say.

You look up in surprise as Rafe approaches, taking in his disheveled appearance and the tension in his frame. You offer a tentative smile. "Hello. Enjoying the gardens as well?"

Rafe drags a hand through his already tousled hair, gaze darting away almost guiltily. "Yeah…I just needed some air. Place was feeling a bit stifling."

You nod in understanding, gesturing to the empty space on the bench. After a pause, Rafe settles beside you, though his posture remains rigid. Silence stretches between them, the atmosphere oddly awkward after the passion you had shared.

Wanting to break the tension, You glance sidelong at Rafe. "I had an interesting brunch with your father this morning. He…seems satisfied with me as your choice of wife." You keep your tone light, hoping Rafe will open up about what's troubling him.

He snorts softly. "Of course he scrutinized you. The great King Ward misses nothing." There's an edge of bitterness to his words. Rafe's shoulders slump slightly as he gazes out at the sun-dappled lawn, tension leaking from his frame.

"I know you two barely know each other. This whole situation is less than ideal." He rakes another hand through his hair, messing the dirty blonde strands. When he looks back at you, his eyes are troubled. "I just hope…well, that you can find some happiness here. Despite my family's meddling."

Your expression softens the sincerity in his words. Gently, you rest your hand atop his where it rests on his knee. "This may have begun unusually, but the future remains unwritten. We have a say in what happens now."

Rafe's eyes widen slightly at your touch, but he doesn't pull away. Tentatively he turns his palm up to lace your fingers, the gesture intimate.

Your heart flutters hopefully. Perhaps your new husband isn't as aloof as he pretends. You sit in more comfortable silence for a moment, hands entwined, gazing out at the peaceful view.

Finally Rafe clears his throat gruffly. "We should head back soon. But…thank you, for understanding." He squeezes your hand gently before releasing it and standing. The air between you feels lighter somehow as you head back to the palace together.

You nod and stand up, smoothing out your dress. You smile softly up at him "Of course..I know this is all still new." As you walk you tentatively slip your hand in his, giving it a little squeeze.

When you reach the palace doors Rafe pulls his hand away abruptly, his face becoming cold and distant again. "I have business to attend to..I will see you later at dinner." He mutters before walking off not waiting for a response.

You watch him hurry off confused and a little hurt by his sudden aloofness again after the tender moment you just shared. Biting your lip anxiously you head inside to find Kiara and Sarah, hoping they can provide some insight on Rafe’s mercurial moods.

Making your way through the lavish corridors, you eventually locate Sarah and Kiara chatting in one of the palace sitting rooms. They both greet you cheerfully, but their smiles fade at your obvious distress.

"What's wrong? You look upset about something," Kiara asks in concern, guiding you to sit beside her on an embroidered settee.

You smooth your skirt, unsure how much to confide about your mercurial new spouse. "I'm just…having some difficulty figuring Rafe out. One moment he seems open and tender, the next he's cool and distant."

Sarah nods knowingly. "Yes, my dear brother has always been moody. Passionate one instant, petulant the next." She pats your hand. "Try not to take it personally. Rafe has trouble reconciling his heart and his duties."

"He's under immense pressure as future king," Kiara adds sympathetically. "It likely makes him feel vulnerable, so he compensates by being remote."

You consider this, comforted by your friends' wisdom. Perhaps Rafe's moodiness stemmed from feeling inadequate, not indifference toward you.

Sarah smiles encouragement. "Keep being patient and meeting him where he's at, Y/N. In time, he'll realize you're a safe place to share his burdens."

Kiara agrees. "Just show compassion and understanding. Your open heart is your greatest gift."

You smile, buoyed by their sisterly advice. If Rafe is skittish of closeness, you would have to coax him out gently, not take his distance personally. Your future depended on bridging this chasm, no matter how long it took.

You smile gratefully "You both give such wise counsel, I don't know what I'd do without you." you say sincerely.

Sarah waves a hand "Oh please, what are friends for? Besides putting conceited brothers in their place that is." She jokes, making you laugh.

"Would you both accompany me to dinner tonight? Having you close by keeps me calm when I have to interact with Rafe and his family. It's all still so intimidating." you admit.

Kiara loops your arms together. "Of course! We'll be right by your side the whole night." She reassures you.

Sarah nods in agreement. "Rafe may be stubborn but he'll come around. In the meantime, we'll make sure you feel welcome here."

Your eyes mist over with gratitude at their unconditional support. With such true friends at your side, you feel able to endure Rafe's unpredictability and find your place in this unfamiliar world.

You spend the afternoon with Sarah and Kiara, their lighthearted company bolstering your spirits after your confusing encounter with Rafe. By the time evening falls and you make your way to the grand dining hall, You feel much more centered and calm with your two dear friends accompanying you.

As you enter the spacious hall, You instinctively seek out Rafe's tall form. Your husband stands stiffly beside King Ward near the head of the table, face an impassive mask. But you notice faint circles under his eyes, hinting at his inner turmoil.

Sarah gives your arm a subtle, reassuring squeeze as you take your seats. Kiara offers an encouraging smile from your other side. Bolstered by their quiet support, You straighten your spine and meet Rafe's shuttered gaze evenly when it drifts your way. You will not cower from his moods.

Dinner passes uneventfully, full of empty courtly pleasantries you have little patience for. Throughout the meal, you make subtle attempts to catch Rafe's eye, hoping to convey mute understanding across the table. But he remains withdrawn, jaw tense as he interacts minimally with the guests.

Your heart sinks at his continued distance, but you refuse to let it show. When the meal concludes, you excuse yourself politely before exiting the hall, chin held high. Your friends move to follow, but you still them with a slight shake of your head.

"Stay, enjoy the festivities. I just need some time alone to clear my head." At their understanding nods, You gather your skirts and make your way out into the moonlit gardens.

The fresh night air soothes you as you find that stone bench under a willow tree again. You tilt your face up to the stars, seeking guidance. Patience and empathy were your only weapons against Rafe's barricades. You could not force him to meet you halfway. Sighing softly, You close your eyes and make a silent wish upon the moon. Bring down your walls, my guarded prince. Let me inside.

As you sit peacefully under the stars, you gradually become aware of footsteps approaching on the garden path. You open your eyes to see Rafe striding towards you, still dressed in his formal dinner attire. He looks surprised to see you there.

"Oh..I didn't realize you'd be out here," he remarks, seeming conflicted about whether to stay or turn back. After a brief hesitation, he moves to sit beside you on the bench, staring straight ahead into the darkness.

"I suppose I don't blame you for wanting to escape that dreadful affair either," he mutters, mouth twisting wryly. "The noble court can be rather insufferable."

You study his tense profile curiously. There is obviously something he wants to express, but is struggling to find the words for. You decide to take a gentle approach.

"The night sky is quite beautiful here. I enjoy having this serene place to collect my thoughts when things feel…overwhelming." You keep your tone soft, hoping he might open up.

Rafe's jaw works, eyes fixed ahead. Several moments of tense silence pass before he speaks again, voice low. "I… apologize for my poor company today. You deserve better from your husband." He finally meets your gaze, remorse flickering in his eyes.

Your expression softens. Gently, you reach over to cover his hand with yours in a gesture of understanding. "I know this transition has been challenging for us both. But we will figure it out, together."

Rafe's eyes widen slightly at your easy forgiveness. After a beat, he turns his palm over to tentatively lace your fingers. You feel your heart lift as Rafe opens up, however hesitantly. You give his hand a gentle, encouraging squeeze, hoping he will continue.

After another strained silence, Rafe drags his free hand through his hair, leaving it endearingly mussed. "I just…I want to be the man they need me to be. My father, the kingdom." He lifts his eyes to the moon.

You feel your heart swell as Rafe opens up, the ice in his gaze melting to reveal vulnerability beneath. You give his hand another encouraging squeeze.

"It's alright, you don't have to be perfect. Just be yourself." Rafe sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I wish it were that simple. But certain things are expected of me, duties I can't shirk." His shoulders slump under the invisible weight.

You nod in understanding. "I know. But you don't have to carry it all alone. I'm here now, to listen and support you. We're partners in this." You trail your thumb over his knuckles, hoping he understands you won't abandon him to his burdens.

Rafe turns to look at you fully, eyes searching yours. He seems startled to find only sincerity and care reflected back at him. "You deserve a medal for putting up with me," he says wryly, but gratitude shines through the humor.

You just smile. "I don't need medals, just your word you won't shut me out again."

Rafe considers your request, then nods solemnly. "You have it. Thank you for…being you." He gives your hand a gentle, meaningful squeeze.

You share a tender smile under the moonlight, the air between you lighter somehow. There is hope for you yet if you continue reaching out in understanding. You know the road won't be easy, but you're willing to walk it with this complicated man who is now your partner. With patience and care, your arranged union could blossom into something real. For now, this moment of connection beneath the stars feels like a promising start.

You smile softly and say "Of course, that's what partners are for. Now…" You stand up smoothing your dress. "Why don't we go for a walk? The gardens are beautiful at night." You suggest wanting to spend more relaxing quality time with him.

Rafe runs a hand through his hair and smiles a little. "I'd like that." He agrees and stands up, offering his arm to you politely.

You loop your arm through his and you begin walking at a leisurely pace admiring the flowers and fountains illuminated by moonlight.

For a time you simply walk in comfortable silence, appreciating the nocturnal blooms and gently babbling fountains surrounding them. You breathe deeply, filling your lungs with the sweet floral scents on the night breeze. After being cooped up in the palace much of the day, it feels freeing to be outside enjoying nature's beauty.

You sneak a glance at Rafe and find the tension gone from his features, replaced by a look of contentment. His eyes seem brighter beneath the stars, and the hints of a smile play at his lips. Seeing him relaxed and unguarded makes your heart flutter with hope.

Eventually Rafe's voice breaks the silence. "Thank you for this. I can't remember the last time I just…existed, without pressures and duties weighing me down."

You smile. "Of course. We all need room to breathe." Timidly you reach over to give his hand a gentle squeeze. Rafe glances down in surprise but doesn't pull away.

The moment feels suspended in time, just the two of you and the hushed music of the garden. You wished you could stay here forever, away from the complications of family and royalty. But for now, this stolen moment of tranquility together feels like a step toward healing.

Keeping your hand covering his, you scoot a little closer, your sides now pressed together.You rest your head on his shoulder tentatively.

"Can we just stay out here a little longer? I don't want this moment to end.." You whisper not wanting the peaceful feeling to disappear once you have to go back inside.

Rafe looks down at you surprised by the contact but doesn't move away. The scent of your floral perfume surrounds him, making his heart skip. No one has shown him such tenderness before. Slowly he rests his head against yours.

"Just a little longer.." He agrees quietly, closing his eyes. For now all the stresses and responsibilities melt away as you sit together under the stars. He wishes he could freeze this feeling and live in it forever.

Rafe's thumb strokes over your knuckles, touch feather-light. The caress sends a thrill through you even as it soothes. You angle yourself closer, memorizing his warmth, his scent, the rhythm of his breathing. This gentle side of him feels like a gift, one you will safeguard.

The hour grows late, the moon sinking low. Reluctantly you lift your head, meeting Rafe's drowsy gaze. "We should head back," you murmur. He nods, reluctance shadowing his eyes. But the new bond between you remains as you slowly rise and retrace your steps out of the garden. Whatever comes next, you will face it together.

As you reluctantly make your way back inside the silent palace hand in hand. Pausing outside your bed chamber door you turn to him. "Thank you for tonight..I haven't felt this content in a long time." You admit with a soft smile.

Rafe rubs the back of his neck "Yeah..me too.." Glancing around awkwardly to make sure no one is around he takes both your hands in his. "Y/N I…I know this whole situation is less than ideal..but I'm grateful to have you as my wife. You've shown me more care and patience than anyone." He says sincerely, gazing into your eyes. "I'll try to be the man you deserve from now on.." He promises softly.

You blink back tears, deeply moved. "All I want is for you to be yourself. The rest we'll figure out together." You offer a tremulous smile.

Rafe searches your face before nodding slowly. Still clasping one of your hands, he reaches up to tenderly tuck a loose curl behind your ear. The affectionate gesture makes your breath hitch.

"Together," Rafe repeats. He starts to lean in, then hesitates. Your eyes flutter closed in tacit permission. A moment later, the barest brush of his lips grazes your cheek in a feather-light kiss.

As Rafe pulls back, your eyes open to find him watching you, desire and uncertainty mingling in his gaze. You give his hand one more squeeze in reassurance before slipping inside your room.

Alone in the darkness, You press a hand to your tingling cheek. Tonight was a turning point for you guys, you feel it. With open hearts, this arranged union just might transform into a true marriage.

531 notes · View notes

thepixelelf · 12 days

Text

warnings: coarse language. jihoon is so in love it's probably unhealthy. wc: 1092

love triangle au requests

[who's this guy who's everything I'm not?] There is a universe out there where Lee Jihoon is able to say everything he wants to say, when he wants to say it, and exactly how he wants to say it.

But that universe isn't this one.

No, in this world, Lee Jihoon is standing like an idiot in front of the person he came all this way for, in a city he's never stepped foot before, with his mouth opening and closing like those dogs moviemakers would give peanut butter to to make them look like they're talking.

"Jihoon," you say, blinking as if it'll make the mirage he must be disappear. "Holy-- What are you doing here? When did you..."

From your open doorway, you tilt your head to take in Jihoon's appearance. Sweaty. Floundering, and yet with a determined furrow between his eyebrows.

His passport and boarding pass in hand, and a distinct lack of luggage.

"...Did you just fly in?"

He opens his mouth. Closes it again.

God damn it. He got on a plane for this and his tongue still doesn't work -- the same way it didn't when you asked who left the only valentine on your desk in eighth grade. The same way it didn't when your prom date ditched you for some girl, and you finally told Jihoon after his three weeks of torment that it was a ruse you and your date came up with to get that girl jealous all along. The same way it didn't when you told him you applied to a university in a city he'd never even heard of, and to your surprise but not his own because he knows you're capable of anything, you got in.

Today should be different. He clamours, "I-- I had to..."

"Where's your stuff?" you ask incredulously, but there's always... that behind your words. That which made him feel like he could trust you to watch his intricate sand castle in the playground. That which made him go to you with his first ever song lyrics in middle school, when no one else has ever seen them, ever. That which he feels vibrating in his bones or maybe even deeper because you care. You care when you go, "Do you literally only have the clothes on your back?" Even if it sounds blunt. "I swear you've had those shorts since forever. And-- wait, where are you staying? Have you eaten? You're always stupid about hydration, too."

He wants you to shut up so he can talk. But god, he loves when you tell him you care in the most words possible.

"I gotta put some water in you, hold on--"

You go to back up from the doorway. Jihoon's hand shoots out to grab your wrist before he can think about the fact that now that he has you in his grasp, he definitely has to speak.

Shit.

You process his hand around your wrist slowly, your eyes blinking slowly like a cat before they look up at his face. He loses all thoughts again.

Well, not all. It's more like his brain fills to the brim with how your eyes look when your face is this close, and it literally can't fit anything else, much less what to say next other than wow.

And he probably shouldn't say that.

But what... (the sunlight is hitting your irises so perfectly) ...should he... (even the concern seeping into your expression is cute) ...say...

"Jihoon--?"

Whatever question you're sure to have asked is cut off when a strong hand separates Jihoon's from your arm, and he breaks his gaze away from you to see a handsome but clearly unwelcoming face. The man regards Jihoon with a certain cautiousness as he wedges himself between you and him, almost pushing you back into your home with a protective arm.

"Are you okay?" he asks you, though he doesn't take his wary eyes off Jihoon. "Who's this?"

You seem a little thrown off. "Uhh..."

Jihoon looks this man up and down, taking in his white tank top and the buff, tan arms that it shows off. His cropped hair isn't styled, but somehow it looks good on him anyway. He's tall.

Annoyingly tall, because to see you, Jihoon has to lean to the side rather than just look over Tank Top's shoulder.

"Who's this?" Jihoon asks right back.

You meet his eyes and come back to the here and now. "Right, uh." Poking your finger into the man's stupid naked bicep, you point at him. "This is Mingyu, my--"

Tank Top interrupts you with, "Husband," as soon as you say, "--roommate."

Your pointed hand transforms into a fist, and you punch it into Tank Top Mingyu's arm. "Hey," you say when he recoils, covers the apparently instantly sore spot, and pouts at you. "I'm fine-- He's an old friend."

But Jihoon can't really focus on that. He's too busy processing.

...

Husband?

"This is Jihoon," your voice says from somewhere far away. "I've probably mentioned him before."

"Oh." Tank Top straightens up, and after faltering for only a second, his eyes brighten like your words flipped a light switch. "That Jihoon?" He turns towards Jihoon. "Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry! I just thought, I mean, you know..."

This new Mingyu acts like one of those golden retriever boys from the internet.

You love dogs.

Fuck.

Puppy Mingyu holds out his hand to shake.

Jihoon just stares at it. Then looks at you.

"Husband?"

You shove your way back in front of Mr Sunshine and lightly touch Jihoon's arm. He can barely breathe. "No, no, that was just... I mean, well, kind of-- but also not really because, well..." Pausing, you think for a moment and torture Jihoon for one million years. "Okay. We're roommates, but Mingyu started telling people at work that he's married so people would stop hitting on him or trying to set him up with their kids... except that was obviously stupid and now I'm kind of caught up in that lie and occasionally picking him up from company gatherings pretending he's my, uh, 'husband'."

"Oh." Jihoon nods slowly; he's underwater, ears plugged. "Okay."

Mingyu drops his hand after a couple seconds of zero reciprocation. "Haha, uhm, anyways... Did you want to come in?"

"Oh." Jihoon nods again. "Okay."

Your touch on Jihoon's arm becomes a little stronger. "You look a little pale. Come in and let me get you that water, yeah?"

"Oh." Yeah. "Okay."

As Jihoon ambles into your home -- your shared home with some guy who introduced himself as your husband but isn't your husband but chose you to be in his marriage but it's a fake marriage but -- he wants to say the things he's always wanted to say. Fuck, he's been wanting and wanting forever.

But he can't.

Not only because he can't form the words; that's been his problem since the beginning and was supposed to be his last hurdle today.

No.

He can't because your fake husband smiled at you in front of him.

And that smile looked nothing like a lie.

part 2 (mingyu's pov)

249 notes · View notes

shuaraes · 4 months

Text

five minutes | c.sc

- he has never seen such a picturesque sight draped in morning light

oneshot | 1.3k | domestic!au | fluff

if choi seungcheol could choose one memory to keep after death, it would be the ones like this. the ones where he rises slightly early and gets to watch as you wake up to the world. for him it’s the little things: sunshine falling atop his sheets, your limbs intertwined, the pout in your voice begging him to come back to bed. though seungcheol knows for a fact, he would always hit snooze if it meant five more minutes with you.

~ pairing . choi seungcheol x gn!reader

~ content . non idol!au, early mornings with choi seungcheol, oddly sentimental moments lmaoo, fluffiest of domestic fluff, brief banter

~ tw/cw . one slightly suggestive allusion to hickeys but apart from that none at all!

~ song rec . come to me - seventeen

~ author’s note . here’s the surprise i was talking about! apologies for being so inactive, life just had to take priority for once. but i had some free time so i wrote this as a little writing exercise. also i just imagine seungcheol to be the best to wake up to lmaoo. sorry for once again proving i don’t know how to write anything that isn’t pure unfiltered yearning 😭 hope you guys enjoy anyways!

FOR ONCE, IT IS NOT THE DRONING SOUND OF AN ALARM THAT WAKES HIM

but instead the light of the morning - rousing him with its golden-honey rays. Slithers of sunlight burn against his droopy eyelids and he curses himself for forgetting to close his curtains in the evening. He wonders what the time is. With the advent of summer, guessing the time has been harder than a blinded game of Russian roulette. It could be anywhere between 5:30 (he could afford to sleep for a couple more hours) or 11:25 (he might as well not bother showing up to work).

Seungcheol rolls onto his back and cradles his skull with his palm. He drifts his eyes up towards the cream-coloured ceiling, feeling an inexplicable lightness in his chest as it rises with his every breath: ocean waves at high tide. Even though the future stresses of the working day loom at the forefront of his mind, they aren’t tormenting him like they usually do. He isn’t dreading the ring of the alarm. There’s something in his mind and soul that’s scarily at peace, a calmness he only thought he would feel in his dying hours. A sharp snore cuts his train of thought short. Feeling the warmth pressing taut against his side, he realises what the feather-weight feeling in his chest was for.

He flips over to look at you, out like a candlelight. Seungcheol swears he has never seen such a picturesque sight draped in morning light. No painting in a museum could ever come close to this sight of you. Your legs are curled into your torso and hands loosely gripping the sheets. Seungcheol’s eyes are drawn immediately towards your lips, your pillow-soft sighs drift onto the pillow where a tiny pool of salvia is. A thin sheen of sweat, illuminated by golden rays, wraps around your body like a second skin, causing you to glisten like the sun during dawnbreak.

In this moment, you are so peaceful, so calm, so vulnerable. You’re like a god to him, a statue chiselled painstakingly out of marble. Seungcheol has to hold himself back from caressing your puffy cheeks, terrified he’d wake you. You’ve been working long hours recently and today’s your only day of rest. Apart from that, something about watching you catch up on some well-deserved rest burns his heart white-hot with passion.

‘I must have been a saint in my last life to deserve this,’ Seungcheol thinks. As clearly and effortlessly as the chime of a bell of a small bookstore, you entered his life, taking him by surprise. You were like a whirlwind and Seungcheol was enraptured in the eye of your storm. Each day he was falling deeper and deeper, closer and closer to the point of no return. The way your smile and sense of humour makes him float above the clouds, almost as if is high on your presence. If he is, then you’re his favourite drug, that itch that you can never scratch enough, that song that no matter what he does cannot get out of his head.

He thinks about how much he loves you. How much he longs for you when you are not near - how much he wants to worship you until marks, the same colour as pink lemonade, pepper your chest. It almost brings him to tears: the intensity of his feelings in contrast to the softness of the morning light. You’re the most beautiful person to him - mind, body and soul.

Right now, Seungcheol feels content, not in the way you do when finishing a task or lying down with a stomach full of your favourite food. This is different. A contentedness he knows he may never be able to feel again, but the moment is so perfect that he doesn’t need to feel this way again. This morning is already more than enough.

RING-RING

Seungcheol rolls his eyes as the sound of his alarm vibrates deep through his ears. He checks the time. Fuck. He only has 35 minutes to get ready (he could have sworn he set it for earlier). He tries his best to move cautiously, trying not to wake you. But as he sees your body start to shift, he knows his attempts are in vain.

“Sorry sleepyhead,” Seungcheol coos his voice so sweet that it almost fully distracts you from the alarm's monotonous cries. You reply with a quiet 'morning' but you’re not sure if he hears: the sound being muffled by the sheets. He traces mindless patterns across your exposed skin. His fingertips leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You squirm slightly at the ticklish feeling, trying to curl away from his touch. Seungcheol can only laugh.

“What?” He knows he’s teasing, the grin on his face ever-wide.

“Shut up…” You turn your body to face him as he sits up, a yawn escaping from the depths of his chest. “How long have you been awake for?”

“A while.” He stretches over your body to hit snooze and you hear the light crackling of his bones as he moves.

“So you’ve just been watching me drool in my sleep this entire time, weirdo.” You say mimicking his previous teasing tone. Seungcheol rolls his eyes but still helps you rub off a small string of dried salvia sitting on the corner of your lip.

“Maybe, maybe not. Though, you are a wonderful sight to behold in the morning.”

“You’re mad.”

“Madly in love with you.” You snort at his words and playfully smack his bare chest as whiny ‘it’s true’s' fall from his pink coral lips. He smiles so wide, that you catch a glimpse of it through the blinding sunlight - a look at his sweet gummy smile. So wide that you can’t help but smile as well.

If Seungcheol were to describe his personality in one word, it would be a realist, maybe a cynic at times. But when it comes to you, he’s a dreamer. You’re the painter who colours over his grey corporate days, the person that keeps him going when his 9–5 starts to feel like a 24-hour shift and it’s your smile he thinks of at the neon red stoplight when he’s racing back home (he hopes you feel the same). He realises that he would do anything for you and it doesn’t anger him in the slightest.

“After you’re off from work, we should do something. Take advantage of the good weather and longer days.” You muse, still looking up at him. With the way tiredness pulls at your eyes you resemble a baby deer. Seungcheol doesn’t even let you finish your sentence before he’s humming in agreement.

“That would be lovely. Hmm, a walk around the city seems nice, there’s this pop-up museum that I think you’d like. We could also-“

RING-RING

You both groan at the cursed sound. Reluctantly, Seungcheol attempts to rub whatever remnants of sleep are left in his eyes (it doesn’t work, he feels more tired afterwards). With a chaste kiss on your forehead, he tries to free himself from the hold of the duvet and many blankets intertwined with his limbs. If he eats breakfast quickly, he may be able to get to work on time. However, as his legs hang over the side of the bed, Seungcheol feels a vice-like grip tighten around his wrist.

“Don’t go.” Your voice sounds so tired yet commanding, as if you were a witch, forcing him into a trance.

“But lovely, work-“

“If you can shower quickly, you can spare five more minutes with me.” You whine. To Seungcheol, there is no point trying to fight it, you’ve already won.

“I suppose I could."

The light giggle that escapes your mouth seals the deal as you drag him back down to drown in the sheets. He throws an arm around your middle and pulls you impossibly closer. Seungcheol knows his alarm is going to go off again in the next five minutes, but as you melt into his embrace like candle wax and press kisses along the base of his neck, he couldn’t care less about hitting snooze again.

For you, he could spare five more minutes.

For you, he would do anything.

400 notes · View notes

starsstuddedsky · 1 year

Text

What? Like It’s Hard?

gn reader x soonyoung

summary: With the help of a little bit of bleach, Soonyoung is certified legally blonde–complete to last minute-dedication to scoring as high as Elle Woods on the LSAT. While he has no interest in law school, he’s notorious for never turning down a dare. So how does a frat bro in serious danger of failing his senior year get a 179? He asks the smartest person he knows.

Or, studying for a law test has never seen this much chemistry.

genre: fluff, angst, non-idol au, uni au, friends to lovers, opposites attract

warnings: swearing, drinking, food, arguing, a couple sex jokes, one spicy scene at the end but no actual smut, refusal to acknowledge feelings, what's the word for beyond oblivious????

full wc: 24.3k

playlist! - i'm not very good at this but i tried to add songs alternating between yn and soonyoung :)

a/n: hello!! first of all, sorry this so long! it's been a very very busy summer. thank you to everyone who has continued to show interest in the story, it's really kept me going. i honestly have no idea what this is anymore but i hope it does not disappoint :) as always i appreciate feedback of any form <3 thank you again for reading and have a lovely day! finally, happy scoups day :)

a/n2: a special shout out to @chocolatemilk139 for being my beta and for helping me fact check... why do i keep writing about lawyers when i know absolutely nothing about the field.......

“Nope.” You grab your backpack, shoving your laptop inside, but he gets to your water bottle before you can reach it.

“Come on.” Soonyoung pouts his lips.

“I won’t do it,” you say.

Soonyoung hugs your water bottle hostage against his chest, dark blue hiding in the crook of his elbow, bright against the pale pink sweater he wears. It’s an unusual choice for him, normally clad in baggy jeans and loose t-shirts. Still, the color highlights his new hair, blonde bordering on white. Hardly the first time he’s done something insane for a bet.

“Please! I’m desperate!” He cries again, stepping closer, though he keeps a firm grip on your water bottle. You never should have told him how emotionally attached you are to it; you should have known it would be held against you.

“No,” you say. You sling your backpack on, just in case he gets any other ideas. The other students shoot dirty looks at you, actually in the library to study (like you were, until Soonyoung arrived). So you grab him by the arm, rolling your eyes at how he jerks the water bottle out of reach.

“Walk and talk, we’re not doing this here,” you say, folding your arms over your chest.

“Come on, how hard can it be?” Soonyoung asks. “It’s just a test.”

“Just a test?” You snort. “Soonyoung, you are aware that most people don’t apply to law school on a dare?”

“I don’t have to get into law school!” He says, “just get a 179 on the LSAT.”

As if that makes it any better. You eye Soonyoung and his tight grip on the plastic. Maybe it’s a lost cause and you should just swing by the bookstore to get a new one instead. But that water bottle has butterfly stickers that have survived since freshman year and a dent from the time Jun tried to use it as a weapon in a fight against Jihoon (that was declared a draw when the bottle busted open and doused both of them equally); it holds memories better than water and you’ll be damned if you let Soonyoung hold it hostage.

“That’s actually harder,” you mumble. From the corner of your eye, you can see him tucking the blue bottle under his right arm, farthest from you. This won’t be easy, especially since you saw the poorly disguised thirst trap of him and one of his frat bros at the gym: those arms are not to be underestimated.

“I’ll pay you!”

“With what money?”

Soonyoung pauses. You’ve reached the exit by now, sunlight warming you through the glass doors. He turns to the sunlight, and you know he’s pretending to be a main character from an artsy film (not that he’s ever seen on). He takes a deep breath, as if he already regrets what he has to say next.

“Okay, I’ll offer you the only services I have.” He turns to face you, eyes on the floor.

“Oh my god, Soonyoung!” You shove his shoulder. “You are not selling your body for a test!”

“But it’s all I know!” He says. He pokes your arms. “You could have so much muscle if you lifted just twice a week.”

“Oh.” You blink at him. “You meant working out?”

“What did you think I meant?”

You feel heat rush into your cheeks. You push the door open, praying Soonyoung doesn’t notice. “It doesn’t matter,” you say, not daring to check if he’s following. “I don’t have time to workout.”

“Then what do you want?” Soonyoung asks. He stays just out of reach, adjusting his grip so that the water bottle hangs from his hand. “Please, I’ll do anything!”

“Why do you need me?”

“Because you’re the smartest person I know,” he says without hesitation. In the three years of your friendship, you’ve learned that the only time Soonyoung isn’t serious is when he flirts.

“You are,” he insists. “Plus you’ve already taken it, so you’re my best chance. My only chance, it’s not like I have a good track record with tests.” He gives you a lopsided smile as he tries to pretend like he’s joking. But Soonyoung has always been easy to read. You see the sparkle in his eyes dim, and you remember freshman Soonyoung–when he failed the midterm and holed up in his room in the frat house for two full days, not even venturing out to drink. It’s that damn sparkle that gets to you. He isn’t paying attention anymore, water bottle hanging loosely from his hand, but you can’t bring yourself to snatch it.

“You can pass it,” you say with a sigh. “It’s about studying correctly.”

“I don’t know,” Soonyoung says. “I’ve never really studied.”

“Well, that’s what I’ll teach you.”

Soonyoung freezes, grabbing your arm. “Seriously?” When you turn to face him, his smile is so bright it warms you from the inside out, hotter than the actual sun on your skin. He throws his arms around you, wrapping you in a hug so tight he lifts you off the ground. Your heart does this strange thing where it hops into your throat. Your arms come up as a reflex but his embrace is too tight for you to even hug him back.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He shouts. He doesn’t let go, even when he sets you back down. He loosens his arms just enough to look at you, the full force of his smile directed at you. “I swear you’re welcome at the frat house any time, I’ll buy you anything you want when I have money, I’ll drive you wherever you want if I can get Seungcheol’s car, I’ll do whatever, just thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You know you should answer, or say something, but thinking is too much when he’s so close you can smell the strangely sweet combination of laundry detergent, cologne, and sweat. You push out of his arms, snagging your water bottle on the way out.

“It’s whatever,” you mumble. Though his arms aren’t around you anymore, you feel strangely hot, like your blood is boiling, and your heart still pounds.

“It is not whatever,” Soonyoung declares. “I swear, whatever you want, I’ll do it.” He holds a hand over his heart and if it was anyone else you’d think they were joking but it’s Soonyoung: he’s deadly serious.

You can’t handle his gaze anymore, turning to study your beat up sneakers. “Really? You’ll get my first edition copy of Pride and Prejudice from Jun?”

“I’ll get that book back.” He glances at you. “It is a book, right?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Though there’s been some good adaptations.”

“That’s the one with the zombies?”

“Zombies?” You frown. “Oh my god, do you mean Pride and Prejudice and Zombies?”

“That’s not the original book?”

“No,” you say, laughing. “The original is Jane Austen, in the 1800s.”

“Oh,” Soonyoung says.

“I’ve actually never seen that one,” you say. “It’s the only adaptation I haven’t seen.”

“How many movies are there?”

“Well, there’s the 1940 adaptation, the BBC series that’s widely regarded as the most faithful adaptation, the 2005 Kiera Knightley movie that’s iconic, plus the Lizzie Bennet Diaries, which is a vlog-style Youtube adaptation. Then of course there’s Jane Austen’s other works, like Persuasion, which, the new one, for the record, was a terrible adaptation.” You stop when you realize you’re dangerously close to going on what Jihoon calls ‘an Austen tirade.’

“I liked the movie,” he says after a pause. “I don’t know if it was that good, or close to the books. But it was fun.”

“I’ll have to watch it, then,” you say. “I know it’s the obvious choice, but Pride and Prejudice really is my favorite Jane Austen novel. Good luck getting it back from Jun though. He’s studying abroad this semester.”

“He’s the friend from your history class?”

“No, that’s Jihoon, my roommate,” you say. “Jun was in my language class.”

“I thought you hated everyone in that class.”

“Oh, I did,” you say. “But Jun is friends with Jihoon, so he sort of just became my friend too.”

Soonyoung hums, saying nothing else. You don’t recognize the song, though you tend to mostly listen to classical music when you study or whatever Jihoon blasts from his room, so it’s not that surprising. The melody is nice, though. Well, Soonyoung’s voice is.

“I really am grateful,” Soonyoung says. “I know I was begging, because I don’t think I can do this without you–well, I don’t know if I can do it with you, but you’re my only hope and–I’m rambling again.” He flashes a smile. “The point is, thank you.”

You shrug, feeling shy under his gaze. “It’ll help me study anyways,” you say. “You learn a lot when you teach.”

“I thought you already took it?”

“I only got a 150,” you say, sighing. “I need at least a 165.”

Soonyoung nods, forehead creasing like it always does when he’s lost in thought. “Thank you anyway.”

“Well, you swore to do whatever I tell you,” you say, desperate to change the subject. “Don’t think I won’t abuse that.”

“Oh, YN,” he says, “I’m counting on it.” He even winks.

You cough, choking at the outright flirting. Soonyoung hasn’t tried a line on you in so long you thought he’d used them all. He isn’t serious–it was engraved in his DNA the second he became a fully fledged member of Sigma Beta Tau but it’s not like many people flirt with you, so it’s hard to stop your heart from jumping.

You check your phone, unable to look him in the eyes. It’s 2:18 now, prime naptime if you can get back to your apartment before Jihoon gets back. But if it’s past two, unless he lied to you at the start of the semester, that means Soonyoung should be in his data ethics class. “Hey, don’t you have class right now?”

Soonyoung glances at the time on his phone. “Shit.” He takes off, sprinting across the grass, dodging three picnics and narrowly avoiding getting rocked in the back of the head by a frisbee. He pauses at the edge, turning back around to wave wildly at you.

“Thank you!” He shouts. The picnickers glance between you and him and you can feel the blush returning. Soonyoung doesn’t notice all the eyes on him, waving like a goofball one final time before sprinting off again. Like a whirlwind, he’s gone again, leaving you to stroll across campus and wonder what you just signed up for.

Soonyoung’s brow furrows into a frown, lips pulling together in a pout. He rests his chin on his hands, looking up at you from the table like a puppy that knows he’s in trouble. “That bad?”

“Your analytical reasoning was good!” You say, not wanting to destroy him just yet. “The logical analysis wasn’t that bad either, you just need practice.”

“Wasn’t there a third section?”

“The score for reading comprehension was pretty bad.” Horrendous, actually, but you can’t tell him that, not when he’s deflating faster than a balloon at a knife throwing contest. He sits back, head knocking lightly against the back of the stiff library chairs.

“We can work with this! It’s really not that bad,” you say. You reach out instinctively, wrapping your hands over his hands. Your thumb rests against the soft smooth skin of the back of his hand, the rest of your fingers brushing lightly against his calloused fingers. You jerk back when you realize what you’re doing, patting his hands once and grabbing the workbook in front of him as if it’s what you meant to do all along. You study the upside down words, not daring to look at the disgust that’s probably painted on Soonyoung’s face.

“You can start with practicing the logic problems,” you say, flipping through the work book. “I’ll figure out a strategy for the reading portion.”

Soonyoung heaves a sigh, sitting up and hunching over the workbook. You flip open one of your old workbooks and try to pretend like you’re not trying to melt away from embarrassment.

“This isn’t very much teaching,” Soonyoung says without looking up. “Lots of problem solving.”

“I don’t really know what I’m doing either,” you say. “I just watched a lot of youtube videos when I was studying last year. I should have known better than to take it over the summer, though.”

Soonyoung glances up. “How come?”

You chew on your lip. You’ve known Soonyoung for a while now, but you’ve never talked to him like this, mentioning any real things other than complaining about roommates. Soonyoung would listen, probably say the ‘right’ things, but it’s a study session, so you just say, “Just not good timing.”

He nods, returning to his humming. You turn to your own workbook, trying to figure out how to get Soonyoung to actually read the passages for the reading comprehension. Twenty minutes pass in an instant and Soonyoung drops his pencil, sliding his journal with the answers back in front of you. You flip to the answer key, scanning between the two.

“When are you taking it again?” Soonyoung asks while he waits.

“Just before Halloween,” you say. Exactly 38 days from now, according to the IMPENDING DOOM countdown clock on your phone.

“That soon?”

You shrug. “I wanted to give myself time to take it again in case I bomb it and it had to be before midterms, so, yeah.”

“Is it really that bad to take all your tests at once?” Soonyoung asks.

“I mean, finals week pretty much kills me every semester. I actually thought I was cutting it close with only two weeks between it and midterms.”

“Is November cutting it too close?”

“Depends on when in November you plan on taking it,” you say, “though you probably won’t be able to take it again if you don’t like your score.”

“Not a problem for me,” Soonyoung says. He doesn’t waver against your raised eyebrow. “I’m getting that 179, first try.”

“You’re that confident?”

“In you.” He winks. “Also the bet is off if I don’t get it on the first try.”

You nod. “Yeah, that makes more sense.” You glance at your calendar. “

“November 18th.”

“That’s not too bad, you dodged between midterms and finals, there should be plenty of cram time.”

Soonyoung shrugs. “I just scheduled it so that I would get the results before the Christmas party.”

“I didn’t think you would be the religious type.”

“Oh, I’m not,” he says. “The frat has this annual post-finals party before people go back home for holiday break, usually on the last day of finals. There’s no way I’m letting Seungkwan get away with my hard earned Playstation, and there’s no way he’d miss the party.”

“You can’t just buy your own game?”

“It’s a console actually,” he says, “and that’s not the point.” You prepare for some lecture about honor or frat code or something overly dramatic and inspired by any of the countless war propaganda movies he loves, but he closes his mouth.

“I guess it doesn’t really matter,” you say. You turn back his sheet, half the answers marked with a dark blue X because red feels too cruel. “You’re clearly committed.”

He sighs at the answers, flipping back to the first question and frowning. You think the conversation is over, but without looking up from glaring at the right answers, he says, “You should come.”

“To?”

“The Christmas party.”

You stare at the top of his head but he doesn’t seem to notice. You wonder how he manages to keep his hair so blonde without ruining his scalp but you don’t see any dandruff. “Me?” You finally say.

“You said you’d come, like, freshman year,” he says. “You never did.”

You did promise, back when you saw him for class every day. But frat parties weren’t your scene back then. They aren’t your scene now. Nothing about blasting music and binge drinking appeals to you, and yet Soonyoung peeking at you from his notebook makes you feel guilty anyways. He looks at you like he really doesn’t understand why you wouldn’t want to go.

And that’s the worst part: for Soonyoung, you would go. When he looks at you with the damn Soonyoung Sparkle, you’d do anything.

“I’ll… think about it,” you finally say.

He looks at you for a moment longer, then nods, like he didn’t really expect you to say yes. You try not to feel like you’re letting him down.

“Can you explain this one to me,” he asks, turning the book so you can see it from across the table.

You skim the question, which turns out to be a series of questions about stained glass windows. You take a moment to glance between Soonyoung’s answers and the correct ones.

“Walk me through your process,” you say.

“Okay, I start with…”

“Soonyoung, are you even listening?”

He blinks at you, lifting his head from his arms. “Something about strategies? For reading?”

You snap the book shut, shaking your head. You open your mouth, speech on responsibility and studying on the tip of your tongue but one look into Soonyoung’s Sparkle Eyes (patent pending) and all the words are gone. You really need to figure out how to get around that super power.

“Come on, it’s so nice out,” he says. “We should be outside.” He grabs your hand. “This is not studying weather, this is dating weather.”

“Soonyoung your test is in two months, you seriously want to skip?” You don’t dignify the second part of his complaint with a response. The idea of Soonyoung on a date makes your stomach flip.

He sighs. “No, but it’s October, we won’t get many more nice days, so can we at least go outside?”

You hesitate a heartbeat too long and Soonyoung jumps up. He closes the workbook, knocking loose papers off the table and sending highlighters of every color flying in every direction. The chaos earns a couple side eyes from the people around you and a full on glare from the person directly next to him, but Soonyoung, as Soonyoung as ever, doesn’t seem to notice. He picks up the papers and highlighters, shoving them into his backpack without a folder and slinging it over his shoulder. You can only follow him, grabbing the drinks before he tries to carry them along his laptop. When it comes to Soonyoung, mixing liquids and technology is more dangerous than mixing alcohols. You haven’t forgotten The Coffee Incident, flooding his backpack at 8 in the morning.

He drags you out of the library, though you don’t put up much of a fight. Soonyoung makes you want to relax, just a little, and when he smiles back at you as soon as he steps out of the sunlight, you find you don’t regret a thing.

Soonyoung pulls his emergency blanket out of his blanket, passing it to you. He’s more prepared for naps than any class he’s ever taken but the thin fabric is soft so who are you to judge? He heads straight for the quad, which is already filled with people, some groups of friends, too many obvious couples with heads in each other's laps or arms wrapped around each other. Soonyoung settles down in a relatively unpopulated corner, taking the blanket back to shake it out the blanket a few times before laying it flat on the ground.

Soonyoung groans when you pull out the workbooks as soon as you sit down. “There isn’t anything more fun to study?”

“Soonyoung, it’s the LSAT,” you say. “It’s not really meant to be fun.”

“But–”

“You’re the one that wanted to go outside,” you remind him, tapping his arm with a pen. “If you’re too distracted we’ll have to go back into the library.”

He gazes at the other people laughing for a long moment before turning to face you again. You raise your eyebrows and he takes the workbook from your hands, flipping it open to the sticky-note bookmark.

The next twenty minutes are relatively quiet, the only noise coming from the chatter of the people around you, too far away to clearly hear, and Soonyoung humming while working through practice problems. You’re not sure if he even realizes he’s doing it, though he bobs his head slightly. You wonder what Soonyoung is like when he isn’t trying to get out of studying–even outside of the party invites you’ve avoided, you rarely see him on campus (because you aren’t on campus when you don’t have to be). You almost went to dinner with him to celebrate passing the business class freshman year where you met him, but you got food poisoning and he never rescheduled.

It’s for the best, though. Even like this, tutoring him minus payment of any kind, you can tell that spending too much time with him will be dangerous. He flirts so easily it feels genuine, and even though he can be ridiculous, he’s never been anything but lovely to you. And it doesn’t help that he’s hot. He glances up, as if he can feel you staring, but he just flashes a smile at you and ducks his head again. Damn frat bros with endearing charms that melt you like the perfect grilled cheese.

Perfectly blue without a cloud in sight, the sky is an empty canvas above you. The air is just the right temperature, just between hot and cold, the sun ensuring that it never dips into the latter. Just the slightest breeze kisses your skin, lifting the edges of the papers but never flipping them. Soonyoung was right: the perfect date weather.

“Soonyoung?” You turn your head to see a dark haired man standing over you. Wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and sides ripped open, you figure there’s a 80% chance he’s one of Soonyoung’s frat brothers.

“Seokmin?” Soonyoung frowns.

“You were actually serious?” Seokmin asks, gesturing to the books. “You know Seungkwan said it as a joke, right?”

“Yeah, but a bet is a bet,” Soonyoung says. “And I really want his Playstation.”

Seokmin snorts. “You know he only said it because he knows you can’t do it.”

“I’m not like I’m losing anything by trying.” Soonyoung sets his lips in a sharp line of determination (which you recognize from the dining hall when he sweet talks his way into free cookies). Seokmin raises his eyebrows at his aggression but eventually decides it’s not worth the fight. Instead, he plops down on the blanket, making a little triangle between the three of you.

“You must be YN,” he says, extending his hand. His easy smile and the way he sat down without waiting for an invitation reminds you of Soonyoung. Unlike the faux blonde, it feels foreign and you shift a little closer to Soonyoung instinctively.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you lie. Seokmin’s eyes curl into little half moons when he smiles, apparently not noticing your awkwardness. You can’t help but feel like he’s intruding as he turns to Soonyoung and asks him to explain what he’s doing. Soonyoung explains it well, though it helps that he was working on the analytical reasoning section.

It’s because he’s interrupting Soonyoung’s studying. That’s why it bothers you that he’s here, even though Soonyoung doesn’t seem to mind and Seokmin seems genuinely interested. Unfortunately, the revelation doesn’t stop you from wishing Seokmin would just leave.

“I don’t know how you do any of this,” Seokmin says after Soonyoung explains the next problem.

“It’s easy!” Soonyoung says. “Half the time the answer is in the question, you just have to know where to look!”

“Quoting me?” You raise your eyebrows.

“Well I did learn from the best!”

“So cliche,” you mutter but the compliment gets you smiling anyway. You look up to find Seokmin looking at you. He has a strange look on his face, frowning, but not angrily. He looks a little bit like when Soonyoung can’t decide between the right answer and the second best option. He doesn’t look away when you catch him staring.

“What?”

He pauses a long moment before answering, as if pondering how to answer. Finally, he says, “I like you.”

You stare at him. Soonyoung had been diligently working on practice problems but his head jerks up at the words.

“I mean, you’re a cool person,” Seokmin quickly says. “Good tutor for Soonyoung.” After hearing his name, Soonyoung grins and turns back to underlining in the workbook.

“Tutor?” You say. “I really don’t think I’m doing all that much.”

Seokmin shrugs. ”I don’t know many people that would spend this much time with someone if they aren't helping. Besides, either way, I’ve never seen Soonyoung this dedicated before.”

“That’s because you don’t dare to bet against me,” Soonyoung says without looking up.

“He might have a point there,” you say. Soonyoung takes a moment to smile at your support.

“What I’m trying to say is that you’re cool,” Seokmin says.

“Thank you?” You wait for him to say something else but he sits back and rests his hands behind him, stretching out in the sun a little more. Sighing, he tilts his head toward the sun.

“Seems like the weather will turn cold soon,” he says. “This might be the last warm day of the year.” He glances at Soonyoung. “And you’re spending it here instead of pre-gaming the Tau party.”

Soonyoung’s pencil freezes. He peeks up at Seokmin, then at you, then shrugs. “I take my bets seriously.”

“Whatever,” Seokmin says. He lays back fully, half of his body sticking off the blanket into the grass. “What are the Ke$ha lyrics? ‘The party don’t start ‘til Soonyoung walks in?’” He doesn’t wait for a correction. “I think I’ll wait until you're finished and we’ll tear it up together.”

Soonyoung glances at you, then unsuccessfully tries to hide his laughter at your expression. You don’t mean to be rude, but Seokmin really just invited himself all on his own and crashed your picnic. Study date. Outdoor study session. The name doesn’t matter, what does matter is it’s only supposed to be you and Soonyoung.

“He’ll fall asleep in about five seconds,” Soonyoung whispers. “He doesn’t actually care about the party, he just likes my nap blankets.” On that point you can’t really blame Seokmin.

“As long as it doesn’t disrupt your studying,” you say.

“Right,” Soonyoung says, more to himself than you. “That’s what’s important.”

You aren’t so oblivious that you miss his bitterness, but you are enough of a coward to decide not to ask about it. How do you even ask about something like that? You can barely answer his questions about the LSAT, so feelings? No chance.

You flip open your own workbook and set a pencil case down to keep the book open and ignore the soft snores from Seokmin. Soonyoung hums, the soft breeze carrying the gentle tune to you and easing you into a false sense of comfort, planting the idea that it’s always been like this and it always will be. But Soonyoung will take the LSAT in November and you will graduate in the spring and there won’t be any more excuses for seeing him, let alone laying out in the sun with him. Letting yourself enjoy this moment has dangerous consequences for your heart.

And yet you enjoy the warm sun on your skin and hum along with Soonyoung anyway. Seokmin is right: this kind of day won’t last long.

You jump awake at the sound. It takes you a moment to register where you are, to blink the sleep out of your eyes and recognize the stiff library chairs, the yellow tinted lighting of the study rooms on the third floor. Built like a prison cell with no windows and stained linoleum floors, you aren’t entirely sure how you fell asleep. The last thing you remember is working on your essay on Sense and Sensibility, which was rather difficult since you haven’t had the time to finish rereading it. Your book rests on the table next to your open laptop, screen dark.

A second knock reminds you why you woke up in the first place and you turn to the door. Through the glass door you see a student with a backpack hanging off their shoulder, half smiling. They turn the knob, opening the door just enough to stick their head in.

“Hey, sorry, I think I have the room scheduled,” they say.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I lost track of time,” you say, slamming your laptop shut and shoving everything into your backpack. To their credit, the other student doesn’t rush you, even apologizing and telling you to take your time. But if you’ve lost the room, that means the two hours you had booked the study room for–the two hours you designated for writing the essay and doing problem sets–were spent asleep, which means the LSAT cram schedule has been completely thrown off with only three days before the test.

You groan as you step into the elevator, pressing the button for the fifth floor. The farther up, the more intense the quiet levels get. Hopefully it won’t be so quiet that you fall asleep, but since you got a nap, you should be able to power through an all-nighter. It wouldn’t be the first time. You brace yourself to check your phone for the time, though being kicked out of the room means you already know your fate. 9:08 means that you have a little less than three hours until the library closes. You’ve done more with less time.

The first couple desks are occupied by students but you don’t stray, heading for a familiar corner, ignoring the empty desks that line the stacks. Your corner, that you found freshman year during finals season when you couldn’t find an empty desk, is perfect: hidden behind the encyclopedia shelves with a light directly above it, only three dicks carved into it–all on the underside (discovered on a particularly bad day where you found it most comfortable to lay underneath and rethink your entire life). You smile at the small comfort, striding through the stacks with Sense and Sensibility still in your arms.

You nearly drop the book when you see the backpack, abruptly turning despite the fact that it must have been obvious to whoever stole your corner that you were headed there. You feel rage boiling up and threatening to spill. You close your eyes, reminding yourself that the corner isn’t actually yours. Still, as you settle into a desk facing a giant window that reveals the dark campus, you can’t help but feel bitter. Your thoughts stray to the desk that should be yours, even as you pull out your computer.

BATTERY LOW

The words light up your screen, mocking you before the screen falls dark again. You dig in your backpack for your charger that you always slip into the main pocket. You feel your underused pencil pouch, the single journal since you keep most of your notes on your laptop, LSAT prep book, your three folders, and no charger. Even when you look inside and lay the entire contents of your backpack on the desk in front of you, the only charger you find is for your phone. Which means the longer laptop cord is probably sitting on your desk, all the way back at your apartment.

A twenty minute walk back, twenty minutes less for writing your essay. You can start it on your phone, maybe, though the thought of switching between reading the Sparknotes and typing already exhausts you. It’s moot anyways, since all you can do is sit and stare at the desk, covered in the contents of your soul. This is what your life has become: a stack of paper that weighs less than the digital universe on your laptop that’s all contingent on a $15 charger that abandons you when you need it most.

In the end it isn’t the rage that gets to you. It’s the hilarity of it all, how silly it is that your life is dictated by something so stupid.

The fifth floor decrees silence, so you make sure that your sobs don’t make a noise. You can’t control the tears but you can hold your breath. When your head starts to feel light and your lungs are desperate for air, you can breathe through your mouth and inhale as slow as you can to keep the shakiness to a minimum. You can do everything you can to hold it together, even when you’re falling apart.

Someone taps you on the shoulder. You lift your head, ready to face a tired librarian kicking you out but instead you see bleach blonde hair and a forced smile over a furrowed brow.

“What are you doing here?” You whisper, glad for the quiet because you don’t trust your voice to support you.

He holds up a thick, leatherbound book. LSAT for Dummies. “Extra reading couldn’t hurt, right?”

You blink at him. The only times you’ve seen Soonyoung in the library on his own has been with a thick blanket and closed eyes (it’s how you know he sleeps with his mouth open, just a little). You can’t quite believe he’s in front of you and yet he takes a step closer and doesn’t vanish.

“What are you doing here?” He asks.

“Shhh,” you say, holding your finger to your lips to get him to quiet down, even though there’s no one in sight. “Quiet floor.”

He nods, looking around as if he’s waiting for someone to kick him out. He turns to look at your desk, the contents of your backpack still strewn about. He tilts his head but doesn’t dare raise his voice to ask. You know he hasn’t missed the tears, still wet on your cheeks.

You done? He mouths.

Not even close, you think, but you nod anyways because it’s the easier answer. Soonyoung doesn’t hesitate, gently closing your laptop and sweeping everything into your backpack. You watch as he dumps it all into the biggest pocket, zipping it up and slinging it onto his back. He tucks the law book under his arm and holds out his other hand for you to take.

“Come on,” he whispers. And you take it, let him pull you out of your chair. The walk to the elevator; out of the library; toward the edge of campus; nothing feels far when Soonyoung doesn’t let go of your hand. You follow him in a daze, clinging to his hand in the off-chance that all your luck rides on him–like if you let go, you’ll lose your tether to this planet.

Soonyoung rarely walks in silence and today is not an exception. He rambles about the only member of the frat capable of cooking that apparently can’t do anything without creating a giant mess. Even as he complains about the guy, Soonyoung can’t help defending him, explaining in mouth-watering detail how good his food is.

“One time he crowd sourced some steaks and did a grill for the new pledges and they all thought it was a prank or something and nearly cried when he actually let them eat them. I think they burnt their mouths from eating it too fast, afraid someone was going to take it away from them.” Soonyoung stops at the edge of campus. He glances at you, a question in his eyes. Where are we going?

“Soonyoung,” you say. Squeezing his hand feels natural. “I don’t really want to go back right now.”

He nods, squeezing your hand back. “You want to go for a ride?”

“You have a car?”

“Nope.” Soonyoung fishes his phone out of his pocket and makes a call. You can only hear Soonyoung, who says, “I need a ride,” and “Pick me up by the duck statue,” and then he hangs up.

The edge of campus that Soonyoung drags you to is right next to the athletic fields, which explains why there is a giant statue of the mascot that towers over you. It has three of its own personal spotlights and shiny claws from fans rubbing them for good luck, despite there being no official tradition. You only went to one game, mostly to confirm you would rather be anywhere else (except maybe the bathroom of the stadium). Either way, the only thing you do know about the statue and mascot for your school is that it is not a duck.

“That’s a raven.” You point at the statue.

Soonyoung frowns between you and the hunk of metal. “Oh, Larry?”

“It has a name?”

“Well, there’s the official name, which is like, Midnight Rain or something, and the frat name.”

“And the frat name is Larry?”

Soonyoung shrugs. “I didn’t choose it.”

“And you call it a duck, too?”

“It looks like a duck.”

You study the statue. You aren’t an ornithologist, but you’re pretty sure ducks have webbed feet instead of talons, and different beaks. Plus you’ve never seen a pure black duck. But you’ve spent enough time with Soonyoung to know it doesn’t have to make sense when the frat is involved (in fact, you’ve found sense is rarely involved in their decisions).

“We just call it the duck. Or Larry, when we want to be formal.” Soonyoung jumps at the honk of a horn. You turn around with him to find an obnoxiously red convertible parked against the curb. The driver’s smooth black hair is styled to look effortless, hair falling just above his eyes, and he wears sunglasses despite the fact that the sun went down three hours ago. He might be attractive, if he wasn’t trying so hard. You never thought you had a type, but someone like Soonyoung, who wears clothes that he likes and sticks his hair straight up because he thinks it looks funny–that’s more your style.

“Here’s our ride,” Soonyoung says. He starts walking, pulling you with him, still holding your hand. You aren’t sure if he even realizes, but you’re in no hurry to remind him.

“Hey Josh,” he says.

Driver (Josh, apparently), finally pulls off his sunglasses. “Soonyoung, you have a friend.”

“I’m YN,” you say, wishing your voice didn’t sound so scratchy from crying.

“Oh, I know,” he says, a twinkle in his eye that flirts between danger and fun. “I’m Joshua.” You try not to feel unsettled by it. He raises an eyebrow as Soonyoung slides into the backseat and you sit beside him. “Am I just an Uber to you?”

“Seungcheol is out and I knew there was no way you would let me drive your car,” Soonyoung says.

“So, yes?”

Soonyoung shrugs and laughs at Joshua’s expression.

“Where are we headed?” He asks with a resigned sigh as if he’s used to Soonyoung’s antics. Has he done this before? You frown. Why does it matter to you if he’s done this with someone else? You’re so busy with the internal war, you miss Soonyoung’s answer.

“Seriously?” Joshua asks. “It’s a weeknight.”

“Like that’s ever been a problem for you.”

Joshua glances at you. “You’re okay with this?”

You pause. You don’t actually know where Soonyoung said to go. But it’s Soonyoung, your heart says. You're inclined to agree with it tonight. “Yeah.”

He shakes his head and mutters something you don’t catch and kicks the car into gear. Before long, you are flying down a two lane road you didn’t even know existed. The wind starts to pick up with the top of the car down, blasting your face. Though your nose is still stuffed from crying, the air fills your lungs, tasting like dead leaves and unnatural warmth courtesy of climate change. For the first time tonight, you can breathe.

The clock reads just shy of 1 am by the time the car stops. As soon as the rumbling engine cuts out, another noise takes over, drowning everything else out. Crashes too rhythmic to be thunder, the blows softened by tall dunes illuminated by the car’s headlights that Joshua didn’t turn off.

Soonyoung turns to you with a grin. “Ready to have some fun?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, jumping out of the car instead of opening the door, ignoring Joshua’s shout. He sprints toward the crashing waves.

Joshua shakes his head, opening his door and ushering you out from the back. He even closes the door behind you, folding his arms over his chest and walking slowly to the beach with you. The headlights cut out but the moon and stars shine enough to see where the boardwalk ends and the sand begins. Soonyoung’s movement gives him away more than any light, running alongside the water and dancing with the tide.

You clear your throat. The ride cleared your head enough for you to feel properly embarrassed about meeting someone right after sobbing. You shudder to imagine how terrible you looked when he first picked you up, clinging to Soonyoung like he was the only thing keeping you alive. A blush forms just at the thought of it.

“So, you do this often?” You ask.

“Do something truly insane because of Soonyoung? All the time.” Joshua laughs. “We don’t usually end up this far away though, and usually someone’s life is in imminent danger.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” you say, watching Soonyoung strip his socks and shoes off and toss them behind him. One sock gets caught in the wind and blows back toward you and Joshua.

Joshua stops before the two of you can catch up to him. You turn to look at him. It’s difficult to read his expression in the moonlight but he frowns like he’s not sure he should say something. Eventually he says, “I’m going for a walk down the boardwalk.” He glances at Soonyoung, then back at you and smiles. “Have fun with him.”

You watch him turn around and trudge back up the sand, wondering if all of Soonyoung’s friends are this strange. Maybe it’s just being in a frat. You grab Soonyoung’s sock and set it with his shoes, smiling when he turns around and waves like a maniac.

“It’s the ocean!” He shouts over the crashes.

“You’re soaked!” You shout back. He glances down and apparently finally realizes his shirt is wet, clinging to his shoulders already. He strides back toward you, grabbing your arm and pulling you closer.

“My shoes are not coming off!” You warn him.

“Just come closer!” He says. “It’s amazing!” You stand with him at the edge of the water, watching it rise in the darkness and draw closer and closer. It crashes on the sand first, a violent move, kicking up wet sand and mixing it with white water. The frothy white water creeps forward, until you have to dance backward. Soonyoung stays in the water, letting it wash around his feet.

“It feels better like this,” he says.

“My feet are covered in enough sand,” you say, though he does look like he’s having fun. The water must be freezing this time of the year–it would feel so nice running over your skin. But you’d end up with wet socks and even more sand in your shoes to clean out.

Soonyoung holds out his hand. “You’d like this.”

You chew on your lip. Normally you’d laugh in his face and say ‘not a chance.’ But normalcy has never been running three hours away to the beach in the middle of the night when you have class at 9 in the morning. You pull off the sneakers without untying them and pull your socks off, setting them next to Soonyoung’s and joining him at the edge of the water. His hand isn’t out by the time you return but he slips it into yours when you join his side.

Another wave crashes and you watch the water creep forward, faster than you expect it to be–and you’re right, it’s freezing, but Soonyoung’s right too, it sends an icy shock throughout your body that sends a tingly rush up from your toes to every nerve in your body, setting them on fire. You squeeze his hand and laugh.

“Good?” He asks.

“I love it.”

You don’t know how long you stand there, holding onto Soonyoung’s hand and letting the water wash over you. After a few waves, it doesn’t feel cold anymore. You stand until your feet are buried in wet sand, each wave sending you lower and lower.

“My feet are freezing,” Soonyoung eventually says.

“Mine, too.” You lift your feet reluctantly, already missing the coarse sand and cold water. You have to let go of Soonyoung’s hand to put on your socks and shoes, shuddering at all the sand in your socks. The cotton became damp from sitting too close to the water, your shoes faring the same. Yet you don’t regret a second of it.

You stand up and stretch, feeling your spine pop. When you turn back around, you almost scream. You manage to contain it to a gasp, a wheezing Soonyoung’s name. He blinks at you innocently, like he isn’t standing in front of you with his shirt in his hand.

“What are you doing?” You choke out.

“We’re at the beach,” he says. “I have to take pictures.”

“And you need to take off your shirt for that?”

“Why? Does it bother you?” He smirks.

Muscles have never been a selling point for you. The “people” you’ve crushed on have all been smart or kind, crushes of intellect rather than bodies. His toned abs, sculpted shoulders, the way his body curves gently as he allows you to stare at him–normally it wouldn’t get to you at all (other than the embarrassment of being this close to a shirtless man for the first time in a long time). But it’s not just the muscles. It’s Soonyoung, your Soonyoung who calls you at four in the morning to tell you about the movie he just finished and is too endearing for you to truly be annoyed at. It’s the Soonyoung that gets lost in the Engineering building even as a senior. It’s the Soonyoung that drags you to the beach in the middle of the night just to make you smile. Yes, it bothers you. No one should be this incredible and hot.

“No,” you mumble, failing to convince yourself of the lie.

Soonyoung seems to be done teasing you, dropping his shirt into your hands. He walks a little closer to the waves, apparently not bothered by the chilly ocean breeze. He starts to pose, then raises his eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to take pictures?”

“Where’s your phone?”

“The camera’s broken,” he says. “Just use yours and you can send them to me.” He continues to pose, flexing his arms as subtly as he can which isn’t particularly subtle (though the muscles are even more impressive in person). You are tempted to reach out and feel the tension, before you realize you are staring again.

You numb to Soonyoung in this half-dressed state as you take the pictures. The frat must have a professional photographer or something, because Soonyoung knows how to pose. Despite some of the angles and positions seeming awkward, each picture comes out as if from a photoshoot. He only gives you a few instructions on taking pictures, and compliments you way beyond your talents.

“Just like that!” Soonyoung says, breaking his model face to grin at you. “You’re really good at this.”

“You can’t even see the pictures,” you say. You bite your lips so you don’t smile. Apparently that doesn’t matter, because he keeps posing. It’s a good thing you just upgraded your phone storage because you estimate at least a thousand pictures are taken for each pose.

“Are you guys done?” You jump at the voice next to you. Apparently Joshua returned from his walk, sneaking up using the crashing waves as cover. “We should head back soon if you want to make your morning classes.”

“Definitely want to,” you say. You haven’t gotten any work done, but that’s no excuse to skip class. Soonyoung pouts but doesn’t argue.

“Perfect!” Joshua claps his hands together. He shoves you toward Soonyoung and grabs your phone. “One more picture together and we’ll go.”

Being at a distance worked perfectly fine but those muscles have you frozen in place again. Soonyoung throws an arm over your shoulders and grins like you do this all the time. His biceps press through your jacket, the flex of the muscle exactly as you imagined it, not that it stops your heart from thundering.

You can’t help but steal a glance at Soonyoung. Despite feeling like you’ll malfunction at any second, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. Soonyoung’s features look soft this close, even the sharp cut of his jawline. You want to study every line of his face, each curve, memorize it until the way his lips slowly curl into a smile is carved into your heart. Spending the rest of your life here doesn’t seem too bad.

“Let’s go,” Joshua says, breaking whatever magic froze time for you. You are left with cold toes and sand in your sneakers as you march up the dune and back to Joshua’s car.

“I just cleaned it,” he groans, looking at all the sand you and Soonyoung tracked in.

You mumble an apology but when you try to offer to clean it for him, he shakes his head. “Nobody touches my baby.”

You glance at Soonyoung, who followed you into the backseat again. He rolls his eyes at Joshua, smiling in a way that you know means he isn’t serious. You smile back at him and click your seatbelt into place.

“Address?” Joshua asks, handing you his phone. You punch it in and hand the phone back. 3 hours and sixteen minutes.

Joshua whistles, seeing the arrival time of 4:53. “Remind me never to do this again.”

“The beach was your idea,” Soonyoung says. His words slur a little.

“Just go to sleep already,” Joshua says. The engine rumbles on and he pulls away from the empty boardwalk.

“‘m not even tired,” Soonyoung says, fighting a yawn. He slouches and leans against the headrest, rolling his head to look at you. “You have class in the morning?”

“Not until nine.”

“That’s good.” He doesn’t succeed in fighting the yawn this time. His blinks become longer and longer, eyes closing more than opening. It’s like watching the energizer bunny shut down.

“Soonyoung?”

He opens his eyes and you think maybe he’d wait for the rest of his life for you to say something.

“Thank you.”

“Always.” He smiles lazily. “I swore I’d do anything.”

His sworn loyalty. It should be fun, having a boy like him dedicated to fulfilling your wishes. But what would it be like if he wasn’t sworn to you? If he did these kinds of things just because he wants to?

You didn’t think you were tired but the next thing you know, Soonyoung gently shakes you awake.

“We’re here,” he says in a quiet, very un-Soonyoung voice.

You blink at him, trying to figure out why your neck hurts so much, frowning at the unfamiliar surroundings. From the rear view mirror, Joshua watches you. Right, instead of writing your essay, doing the problem sets, or any of the readings, you went to the beach. You wait for the guilt to set in but it doesn’t come. None of the anxieties from earlier in the evening (the technical part of your brain reminds you it was the night before) overwhelm you.

“Right,” you say, clearing your throat. Your mouth tastes nasty but before you can say anything, Soonyoung hands you a water bottle. You take a sip before saying thank you.

Soonyoung unbuckles his seatbelt. “I’ll walk you up.”

You nod, grateful you don’t have to ask him. The night has been a full adventure on its own yet you aren’t quite ready for it to be over. At least you aren’t ready to say goodbye to Soonyoung.

There’s still something you want to tell him. You want to tell him that you like his blonde hair, even though everyone else thinks it’s ridiculous. You want to tell him that you lied earlier, you nearly lost your mind seeing him shirtless. You want to tell him that you feel proud when he gets the right answer on the first try, that you think his concentration frown is cute, that you’ve never enjoyed studying like you do when he’s by your side. You want to tell him that on your worst days, days like today, just being Soonyoung makes it better.

But you learned a long time ago tired ramblings and drunk confessions are siblings. They both end in heartbreak and twelve packs of ramen.

So you ride the elevator with him and watch the lights flicker. You never cared when Jihoon brought his friends (well, Jun) over, but the carpets that look dirty no matter how many times they’re cleaned and beige walls are even worse tonight. You can stand to live in a boring apartment, but not a dirty one.

“This is me,” you say, gesturing to 808. You turn your back on the door, facing Soonyoung instead. He looks radiant under the fluorescent hallway lights, which really isn’t fair. They make his bleach blonde hair look natural, highlight the blemishes on his skin, easy to see when he’s this close.

You should go inside and he should go back down but neither of you move. For the second time tonight, you are frozen in time with Soonyoung.

The floor creaks and you jump, turning around at the same time, accidentally knocking into Soonyoung’s chest as you turn to face the noise behind you. Jihoon, gym bag over his shoulder, frowns at you across the hallway.

“Are you seriously just getting back now?”

Shit. You never texted him. “Um, Jihoon, this is Soonyoung,” you say. He waves behind you. “Soonyoung, Jihoon.”

Jihoon folds his arms. “I’ve heard about you.” You glare at him, which he ignores. “You’re taking the LSAT on a dare?”

“You’re the one that wants to be a music producer?”

Jihoon raises his eyebrows and looks at you. “You’ve mentioned me?”

“Only the worst,” you say, smiling at him.

“I thought you were at the library all night?” Jihoon says.

“We went on an adventure,” you say. You show him your sandy shoes. He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything. It’s clear he knows he interrupted something, but the stubborn asshole doesn’t move.

You turn back to Soonyoung. “Goodnight,” you say, resisting the urge to hug him.

“It’s morning,” Jihoon says.

“Goodnight,” Soonyoung says, glancing at Jihoon. He pauses and fidgets with the hem of his shirt but finally gives you a half hug that feels more like a bro hug than anything else. He disappears into the elevator then pops his head out a final time “Send me the photos!”

You turn to Jihoon. “I forgot to text you.”

“I figured I’d wait until the morning to call,” he said. “Even if you were kidnapped there’s still a 90% chance you’d figure out a way to show up for class on time.” He turns the key in the lock and strides into the apartment. You’re too tired to argue back, especially when he’s right, so you just follow him into the apartment.

“I like him,” Jihoon says before you vanish into your room.

“Should I find you a wedding dress?” You say. “Soonyoung is single.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes and grabs a protein shake from the fridge. “Why do I even bother?”

You don’t wait for him to leave first, peeling your shoes off in the entryway where you can sweep up the sand and practically fall into your room. It’s race to change into an old t-shirt before you collapse onto your bed.

You set an alarm for 8:30 and check fifty times to make sure it’s actually set. Then you open your camera roll, shaking your head at the countless pictures. You choose twenty non-blurry ones before your eyes start to droop. You scroll to the bottom and click on the pictures Joshua took. Soonyoung grins for the camera, his easy smile as captivating on your phone as it is in person. You are staring at him, a soft smile on your lips and hearts practically bugging out of your eyes. It’s so ridiculously obvious how you feel. You send him his thirst traps and keep that picture for yourself.

It takes a week for you to realize Soonyoung never posted the pictures.

The weight of the world has the decency to wait until you’re home to fall on your shoulders. You hold your keys up and can’t push it into the lock. If you didn’t do well today, it means the past two months have been a complete waste–all the studying, the assignments you got low grades on because you were studying, the nights you spent at your desk–wasted and doomed to repeat.

All but the time you spent with Soonyoung. Even if you fail (again), he should at least score decently, and you can’t consider that a complete waste.

You raise your key to insert it into the lock but the door flies open. Jihoon glares at you, arms folded over his chest. “What the hell is taking you so long, your boyfriend is here.”

You peer past him and find Soonyoung lounging on the couch, feet resting on the coffee table. He sits up when he sees you, grinning and waving. You wonder if he’s been there since you told him you were finished. You make a mental note to get Jihoon his favorite protein shakes.

“How did you know I was here?”

“Me and your boyfriend heard you shaking your keys in front of the door for like twenty minutes,” Jihoon says.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you mutter, praying Soonyoung didn’t hear either of you. You push past Jihoon, letting him lock the door behind you. Soonyoung jumps off the couch as soon as you drop your bag, almost tackling you in a hug. You pretend not to hear Jihoon’s scoff as he locks himself in his room again.

“How’d it go?” He asks, squeezing you one more time before letting go. You try not to feel disappointed about it. “I mean, I know you did amazing, but how do you feel? Was the room super hot or super cold? Did the proctor give you the evil eye when you turned in your paper because they were secretly trying to sabotage you?”

“No?” You frown. “And the room was fine, I felt pretty good about it, but I felt good last time, so I don’t really know, I just really don’t want to take it again.” You sigh. “I know you want to know as many details as possible for your test, but I really, really don’t want to think about it right now.”

Soonyoung grins and pulls out a package of White Claws and a bottle of vodka from a plastic bag that you just noticed sitting on your coffee table. “That’s perfect because I brought a gift from the whole frat.”

“That seems pretty on brand,” you say.

“And a gift from me.” He digs again and pulls out a DVD. Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.

“You’re kidding.” You say. “I think I have to be drunk to watch that.”

“You don’t have faith in my taste in movies?” Soonyoung asks but he pops open the first drink and slips something shaped concerningly like a knife out of his pocket and stabs the can, chugging it before it can really spill on your carpet. Before you can register what he did, he tosses the empty can on the coffee table, immediately scrambling to straighten it. “Sorry, force of habit.”

“Soonyoung, I don’t think I can keep up with you,” you say, sitting slowly onto the couch.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m a lightweight,” he says. “I definitely should not have chugged that.”

“I guess I better catch up,” you say, unscrewing the vodka and pouring a shot in the little paper cups that Soonyoung brought. The acrid scent curls your lip but you knock it back as fast as you can, forcing it down when you miss the back of your throat and it burns your tongue. Soonyoung hands you a can, the lime flavored seltzer pushing the nasty flavor out of your mouth.

“Yeah, I’m terrible at that,” you say.

Soonyoung shrugs. “I’m not one to judge. You should have seen me as a pledge.”

You grin at the mental image of Soonyoung wearing a fake toga made of bedsheets. “I bet you were adorable.” You take another sip of the drink (which tastes significantly worse when you aren’t comparing it to straight vodka) and miss Soonyoung scrambling for words.

“I can’t drink this,” you declare, setting the can down. You cross the room to the fridge, opening it and studying the contents. Soonyoung follows you, resting his chin on the door and glancing inside.

“Jihoon does most of the cooking,” you say, feeling self-conscious. Not much populates your fridge, a package of chicken breast and a carton of eggs. A couple containers of take out that are either two days or two weeks old sit in front, and the drawer of fruit that is filled with apples from Jihoon’s mother definitely smells funny.

“I live in a frat house, this is heaven.”

You flash him a smile and grab the orange juice, shaking it as you grab a glass from the cabinet (thank god Jihoon did the dishes last night). Soonyoung follows you back to the couch and waits for you to pour a glass and add two shots of vodka. You raise the glass and he takes your rejected White Claw and clinks it.

“Cheers,” he says, sipping this one instead of chugging it. He sets it down and leans against the armrest so that he can face you. “How did you meet Jihoon, by the way? He seems like a pretty reserved dude.”

“Yeah, sorry if he was short with you, he isn’t half as mean as he pretends to be,” you say.

“We actually talked a lot.” He pauses, tilting his head as he thinks about it. “Well, a lot about working out. I think I could turn him into my gym buddy with enough pressure.”

“I would pay to see that,” you say. Jihoon tried to bring you to the gym exactly once, and you have regretted it ever since. The soreness haunts you, but you think Soonyoung might be one of the few people on the planet that could keep up with him with those arms.

“I didn’t know you were into that,” Soonyoung says with a giggle. You roll your eyes.

“You know for a fact that’s not what I meant,” you say, “and to answer your question, we lived in the same dorm freshman year. He was next door, and both our roommates were psychotic, so we ended up trading. We’ve been living together ever since because I’m the only one that can put up with his annoying ass. Also he cooks and keeps me alive during finals.”

“I can’t believe I was a dorm assignment away from living with you.” Soonyoung shakes his head and pretends to sigh. “Fate isn’t on my side.”

“Don’t you live in a frat house?”

“Semantics,” Soonyoung says. He pauses. “Semen-tics.” He starts to laugh and though the joke is far from funny, you find yourself giggling too.

“You’re drunk,” you say.

Soonyoung points at you. “I’m pretty sure you’re drunk too.”

You tilt your head from side to side, trying to think at first but the motion feels nice, toeing the line between dizzying and comfortable. Right, you were checking if you were drunk. You have your answer, but you don’t want to stop spinning just yet.

“Do you really want to be a lawyer?” Soonyoung asks. You freeze with your head on your right shoulder, frowning at him. “I mean, like, how do you know?”

“It makes good money,” you say. “Well, corporate law does. Everything going according to plan, I’ll be out of debt before I’m thirty, retiring at 65.”

“But how do you know that’s what you want?” Soonyoung asks. You wonder if he’s asking you or himself. You think about the first day you met him.

It was the first day of your sophomore year, 8 in the morning in the worst classroom in the Armhayer Building at the end of a dead end hallway with no windows. The business program had a required career building course and some cruel administrator decided to make the other available class clash with the other required business class for the year, so half the class was people you were stuck with for the full year. Despite its reputation, the business school at the university seemed to only accept idiots.

You settled for a long semester of biting back your eye rolls and yawning through class, choosing a seat in the front so that at least you won’t have to look at anyone else. And for fifteen minutes, you struggled to keep your eyes open.

Then Soonyoung walked in.

He was out of breath, telling the professor that he got lost several times and someone gave him the wrong directions. You didn’t really pay attention to him until he dropped into the seat next to you. Fully prepared to give him a side eye and judge him for the rest of the semester, Soonyoung flashed a smile at you and apologized for disrupting you. He was so obviously not your type, yet when his head dropped on your shoulder, you didn’t wake him up. Two classes later when the professor told the class that you would be in a semester-long partner project, you didn’t hesitate to say yes when Soonyoung asked you.

Soonyoung hadn’t ever taken the class seriously, going through the motions and doing the bare minimum for most of the assignments. You never paid any attention to it, but you realize that he never actually told you what he planned to do with his life, always asking you what you planned to do with your copious amounts of money. Now you wonder if it was because he really doesn’t know.

“I want stability,” you finally say. “This plan is stable. Safe, as long as everything goes according to plan. I guess it’s not as cool as dreaming about being an astronaut or whatever, but it’s what I want.”

“I think it’s cool. Knowing what you want to do.” Soonyoung says with little enthusiasm.

“You don’t have any idea?”

He shrugs. “I have to be smart to do the things I want to do.”

“You are smart.”

“You don’t have to pander to me, I’m not looking for your pity.”

“Soonyoung.” You wait for him to look you in the eyes. “You are smart. This isn’t pity. Sure it takes you a little longer to read things, and you have to work a little harder to answer some questions, but that doesn’t mean you’re not smart. You’re just as capable as me, more capable when it comes to emotional intelligence. Have you ever noticed that wherever you go, someone is always waving to you? I don’t think there’s a single person in this world that doesn’t like you. Don’t downplay how important that is.”

He chews on his lip and you know he doesn’t believe you. How many people have told him he’s dumb? You want to drag every single one of them here and make them apologize, make them realize how special the boy in front of you is. Eventually he shrugs. “I’ll just end up being an intern, and then I’ll be so charming they’ll promote me without realizing I don’t know what I’m doing and I’ll become a CEO that pays people to do the job for me.”

You smile and shake your head. “We can vacation together in the Bahamas.”

“Please, that’s where the semi-rich people go,” Soonyoung says, lifting his head from the back of the couch. “We’ll have our own islands and sail past each other.” This time when he smiles, the sparkle glints, just a little. His bleach blonde hair sticks in strange angles from rubbing against the couch, looking a little like a fuzzball. You reach a hand out and pat it down, except the hair is fried from being bleached so many times and almost breaks under your hand.

When you pull your hand down, Soonyoung is staring at you. Except staring isn’t the right word. He looks at you like no one else ever has, a thousand unsaid words behind his eyes, a language like no other that maybe only you can understand. Those dark eyes, so soft and warm, begging you to drown in them. He’s a siren, luring you in with a song of desire that only you can hear.

You don’t realize you’ve leaning closer until you fall forward, catching yourself on his chest. Soonyoung’s hand flies to your waist, moving so fast it must have been reflex.

“Sorry,” you mutter but you don’t get off him. Resisting his eyes from this close is impossible. Soonyoung blinks at you, frozen. It occurs to you that you’re almost kissing him. All you have to do is lean forward, press your lips against his. Would his lips be chapped? Would he kiss you back? Would he make fun of you for being a terrible kisser? You hold your breath, wondering if you are about to find out.

You jump at the bang of a door slamming shut. You push off Soonyoung’s chest, back to your side of the couch until your back slams against the armrest. The pain is almost enough to sober you up and you realize exactly what you were about to do. You can’t bear to look at Soonyoung staring at you so you look at Jihoon instead, who doesn’t seem to realize that he interrupted anything by walking into the kitchen, headphones blasting music so loud that you can hear it. He grabs one of the takeout containers from the fridge and finally notices you and Soonyoung staring at him.

“What?” He shouts over his headphones. You shake your head and he stares at you all the way back to his room, slamming the door shut behind him with enough force to make you jump again.

“We should probably start the movie,” you say, turning to face forward, anywhere but Soonyoung. “I’ll get my laptop.” He doesn’t say anything but you can feel Soonyoung’s eyes on you as you jump up. Ignoring the spinning in your head, you walk to your room. You lean against the door as soon as it shuts behind you, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.

You wish you could blame the idiocy on the alcohol, but you aren’t drunk enough for that. Besides, regardless of the reason, it was a mistake, it would be a mistake, to kiss Soonyoung. No matter how badly you want to do it.

Your computer sits on your desk. The longer it takes for you to get back, the stranger it will be, so you grab it and return to the couch. Dizziness gives you an excuse to peer at the floor, perfectly valid reason to avoid Soonyoung’s eyes.

“Are you ready to have your mind blown?” He asks when you insert the DVD into your laptop.

You raise your eyebrows but still don’t have the courage to face him. “It’s that good?”

Soonyoung laughs easily, as if nothing happened. “You have no idea what you’re in for.”

You peek at him from the corner of your eye. He faces the computer, sitting back against the couch. Other than his red tinted cheeks, you can’t tell he’s drunk at all. You have no idea what you’re in for, he said. He has no idea how right he is.

You hold Soonyoung by the shoulders, staring him down. Your eyes begin to water but you hold them open, determined not to lose. Soonyoung squints, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. You just have to hold out a little longer, but your eyes begin to ache and the air pierces into them.

“Damn!” Soonyoung cries, throwing himself back onto the couch and squeezing his eyes shut. You let go of his shoulders and resist the urge to rub your eyes, settling for blinking as fast as humanly possible. Your eyes burn but you smile anyways, wiping tears away with the back of your hand.

“How are you so good at that?” Soonyoung asks. He gives into the impulse, hands pressed against his eyes.

“I’m really not, I think you’re just bad at staring contests,” you say. “Now hurry up, you lost so you have to answer.”

He sighs as if he didn’t beg you to help him study. With only a day before his test, you’re not sure how much this is really helping, but at least he isn’t partying with the rest of his frat (who do a pre-finals bar crawl, apparently). Instead, Soonyoung is on your couch, again. You try not to think about the last time he was here. Not productive thoughts, especially not when Soonyoung is one day away from taking the most important test of his life.

“Is it B?”

“Are you asking or telling?”

“I hate when you say that.” He peers at the paper, eyes moving slowly as he rereads the line. “No, it’s C! Wait, no, B. No, A!”

“Pick an answer.”

He chews on his lip. You have to force yourself to keep your focus on his eyes. “B,” he finally says.

You’re tempted to drag it out and make him wait but he puts on the Soonyoung Sparkle so you go ahead and nod.

“I knew it! Trust your gut!”

“You’re quoting me now.” You pretend to wipe tears from the corner of your eyes. “You’ve grown up so quickly.”

If it were Jihoon, he’d roll his eyes but Soonyoung perks up, as if you’ve given him a real compliment. He pauses before asking his next question, eyes flickering to the papers separating you from him.

“You really think I’ll do well?” He asks softly.

You study him, the way his unnaturally blonde hair has been strategically gelled to stick up in all the right places, the way his plain white t-shirt hangs loose on his shoulders. You wonder what he sees when he looks in the mirror because the way he sits now, waiting for an answer as if you’d actually say no, breaks your heart a little. He really has no idea how brilliant he is, in every sense of the word. You don’t know how to make him see it so you just take his hand and wait for him to look you in the eyes.

The second the glittering dark irises meet yours, you see the desperation. He tries to smile, to hide the fear but Soonyoung has always been easy to read. You fight the urge to brush your fingers against his cheek.

“Soonyoung.” You squeeze his hand. What you feel isn’t a passing crush, you’ve known that for a while now. Admitting it doesn’t give you the bravery to do anything except pull the shield of cowardice around your heart a little tighter. “I’d be an idiot if I said I didn’t.”

He holds your gaze a little longer, until it almost looks like he believes you. Then his eyes light up. “I have a surprise for you!”

He digs into his backpack, pulling out a blanket (not the one he used when it was still warm enough to sit outside in the grass), a plastic water bottle half-full of bright green liquid, three crumpled flyers for events on campus, and finally, a small rectangular item, carefully wrapped in paper towels.

“I was a little worried it would get damaged in my backpack,” he says. “I really, really tried to walk gently and didn’t bring it near any coffee.”

You choose not to point out the unnatural liquid in the plastic water bottle, instead appreciating his efforts to protect whatever your surprise is. Besides, it’s not like he didn’t try. He carefully pulls the paper towels off, revealing a navy blue leather bound book with gilded lettering. Not just any book.

“You got it back?” You cry. Soonyoung pulls the rest of the paper towels off to reveal the intricate design on the cover, the golden pages, with Pride and Prejudice inscribed on the spine. “My baby!”

You hover over the book, not wanting to ruin it with the dirt and oils from your hands but so desperately wanting to caress the beautiful book. It’s just as you remember it, down to the tiny dent on the front cover where you accidentally knocked it against a railing. You can’t wait to put it back on your bookshelf where there has been an empty space ever since Jun managed to snag it. You remember Soonyoung is there when you hear his laughter.

“You like it that much?”

“Of course,” you say. “It’s my baby.”

“It’s a book.” But he smiles and you know he’s just teasing. So you figure, why not?

You throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. His frat-bro instincts must take charge because he doesn’t hesitate to hug you back, pulling you against his chest and squeezing you like he’s the one getting a gift.

“Thank you,” you say. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“This is my thank you,” he says. You can feel his voice rumbling in his chest, a strange sensation that sends butterflies tumbling around between your stomach and your heart. “It’s the least I could do for you.

The awkward position isn’t exactly comfortable, twisting your body to face him with your shoulder overtop of his forcing your face into his neck but you don’t want to let go. You give yourself five more thundering heartbeats before you let go, turning to study your book again so you have an excuse to avoid his eyes.

“How did you get it back?”

“Same way you lost it,” Soonyoung says. “I made a bet.”

“On what?”

Soonyoung shrugs, turning to look at the book that still sits in his lip. He gently places it into yours, using the paper towels to prevent smudging with his fingers.

You frown. “How? Jun is in another hemisphere.”

“Don’t underestimate the power of video calls and express shipping,” Soonyoung says. “By the way, I’m wearing your friends down. Pretty soon they’ll like me more than they like you.

“Oh really?” You raise your eyebrow. You ignore the vole gnawing at your gut whispering that he might just be right.

“I got Jihoon to go to the gym with me and I got him to admit I was friends with you before he was,” he says, holding a finger out. “Jun says that he wants to meet me the second he returns to the country.” A second finger goes up. “Who else can I add to the list?”

He’s only joking. He doesn’t mean it the way it sounds, but your skin wants to crawl inside out. The truth is, they are pretty much your only friends. Jihoon, Jun, and Soonyoung, the latter two having wormed their way into your life. My only friends.

“You’ve got to start going on the offensive,” Soonyoung says. He avoids your eyes and you know he didn’t miss your discomfort. Great, now he pities you. “I’m serious, Seokmin and Joshua have been asking about you, and Seungcheol keeps complaining that he hasn’t met you yet.”

You snort. “They’re frat bros, they just want more people to party with.”

“I’m a frat bro,” he says.

“Yeah, but…” But what? He’s Soonyoung? Once again, you wonder why he is so different to you–why the epitome of frat boy chaos doesn’t repulse you like he should. But he isn’t some one-dimensional steroid-infused party boy, not the type to bully the freshman trying to join just because he can. He gets drunk after two shots and makes his pledges follow him for 24 hours a day as “hazing,” only to take them for a dinner he can’t afford and skips his own classes so they don’t miss theirs.

He’s not a typical frat boy. But Soonyoung loves his frat, and you can’t find a way to tell him this without making it sound like you are looking down on the rest of the members.

So you just say, “Isn’t this supposed to be a study session?”

Soonyoung sighs, pulling the book in front of him and staring at the words. Even though you can see that he isn’t reading, he doesn’t say anything else.

“Your test is tomorrow,” you say.

“Yeah, I know.” He doesn’t pick up the pencil.

You’ve never struggled to read Soonyoung. He can’t hide when he’s upset, shoulders slumping, a little pout forming over his lips. He doesn’t fully frown but his eyebrows comes together, just a bit. And it’s usually easy to figure out what’s wrong–he’s tired, or wants to be at a party instead of studying. But now? He was fine just a moment ago, even while he was cramming earlier.

“Is something wrong?” You don’t know why you’re so scared of the answer.

“I just thought that… nNever mind.” He sighs again. “You’re right, this is a study session. I should be studying.” He doesn’t look at you and you can’t help but feel like you messed up. But Soonyoung eventually picks up his pencil and asks you to check his answers and the feeling slowly fades.

Will the rest of your feelings fade when you aren’t with him like this anymore? When he takes his test and has no reason to see you every day? Will your heart still beat at the mention of his name? Will you spend the rest of your life thinking about all the almosts with him? Or will it fade until Soonyoung is just a boy that you helped because of a silly bet?

Even as you consider it, you know the answer. He isn’t just a boy, and he never will be. Maybe that’s what really scares you.

You glare at Soonyoung. “Do you know what time it is?”

Jihoon glances at his watch. “7:43.”

Soonyoung grins beside him, arm over his shoulder. Both boys stand in your bedroom doorway looking far too composed for this ungodly hour.

“It’s a Saturday.” Just two minutes ago you were in blissful sleep. Okay, maybe not blissful, since you stayed up until three in the morning because you couldn’t fall asleep, and you were having a weird dream where you were looking for something and ended up by the stadium staring at a giant duck statue instead of the raven. But the point is you were asleep until two fists banged on your door so loud you thought it was going to fall apart.

You can’t even be that mad at Soonyoung, not when he smiles like that. So you glare at Jihoon.

“Honestly, I figured you would be up,” he says. “You were the one that said you didn’t think you were going to get any sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” Soonyoung says. “I really just wanted to help distract you for the last hour.” Right. The last hour until your entire future would be determined by a triple digit number. No biggie.

“Let me get dressed,” you say. They step back before you have the chance to slam the door in their face. You’d like to be able to dress up nicely, but you’re already shivering, so you grab your comfiest sweatpants and the sweatshirt Soonyoung lent you (that still smells like his cologne). You dart into the bathroom and meet the two boys in the doorway of the apartment, pulling on your sneakers.

You pull the hood over your messy hair and tighten the strings. Soonyoung grins at you and taps your nose.

“Ready to go?”

“How did you get out of bed this early?”

“Oh, I never got in,” he says. “Long story, but we gotta go, they won’t wait much longer.”

“They?” You ask but Soonyoung doesn’t hear you. He turns to Jihoon, waving.

“See you tomorrow!” He says, throwing an arm over your shoulders to pull you out the door. “I’ll let you know how it goes!”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” But he looks at you and smiles. “It’ll be fine.” Before you can thank him, he shuts the door.

Soonyoung doesn’t let go of your side, pulling you to the elevators and squeezing you against him. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I should be asleep.”

Soonyoung smiles, as if your grumpiness is funny. You decide it’s moot since there’s no way you could fall asleep now that you are an hour and seven minutes away from finding out the results of your future.

“I figured I’d save you from wallowing in worry,” Soonyoung says. “We can do fun things while we wait. I planned out the whole morning, we have options! There’s going to the gym, or for a job around campus, breaking into the science lab and petting the rabbits, going to Barb’s for breakfast–”

“Breakfast,” you say. You aren’t a huge fan of getting in trouble with the college when you have just over a semester before graduation and though you aren’t sure if your stomach will accept food, working out is a guarantee for throwing up. Besides, a hot cup of coffee could clear a little of the fog in your brain.

“Barb’s it is,” Soonyoung says, practically bouncing on his toes. He really seems to only have two settings, and today he’s at 120%.

He lets go of your side when the elevator opens and you step to the ground floor of your apartment. You rub your arms and pretend like the chill is from the weather even though the lobby is still warm. He holds the door for you pretending to be a doorman, bowing and gesturing with his arm for you to pass. You turn so that he doesn’t see that the silly gesture made you smile.

Parked outside is a white jeep that looks larger than normal, and is apparently the asshole that’s been blasting their music for the past ten minutes. You aren’t surprised in the slightest when Soonyoung strides up to the car.

“I don’t have a car,” he says, belatedly apologetic. The two men in the front seat don’t seem to mind, though you suspect they have been up all night along with Soonyoung as soon as the door opens and you hear their voices singing off-tune over the blasting music.

“Boy, you got my heartbeat runnin' away,” The driver cries, using a water bottle as a mic. You recognize Seungcheol from Soonyoung’s descriptions, half from his voice and half from the back of his head. The person riding shotgun is also familiar, a mess of dark hair that must be Joshua. He doesn’t look much different in daylight, sunglasses resting on his forehead. Thankfully they turn the music down a little and stop singing when you get it.

Seungcheol grins at you through the mirror. “So I finally get to meet the infamous YN. You know, you still haven’t shown up to any parties.”

“I’ve been busy,” you say, glancing at Soonyoung who focuses a little too much on his seatbelt.

“Hi, YN,” the passenger up front says, waving at you through the rearview mirror.

“Joshua,” you say. “Get into life and death scenarios with Soonyoung recently?”

“Well, Soonyoung jumped out of a car window.” He pauses. “It wasn’t moving,” he adds when Seungcheol jerks his head towards him. “Though I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“I have done it before,” Soonyoung says solemnly. It takes him a moment to realize everyone is staring at him. “It was a dare.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Seungcheol grumbles, turning back around and putting the car into drive. Though you were thinking something along the same lines, the way Soonyoung deflates a little makes you wish Seungcheol hadn’t said anything.

The rest of the drive is quiet–at least in terms of conversation. Seungcheol cranks his stereo up to the loudest setting and blasts the Spice Girls until Joshua starts singing along. Apparently car karaoke for “Wannabe” is sacrilegious to the frat leader.

You can hear yourself think again when the car pulls into the parking lot and he finally cuts the engine. A few cars line the parking lot of the 24 hour diner that sits on the outskirts of campus. The giant neon red Barb’s that hangs over the entrance flickers in the cloudy morning light teeters the line between quaint and electrical fire waiting to happen.

The workers, a host and three waitresses, wave at the boys, and do a double take at you. You swear you hear the host whisper “Is that really them?” to Joshua as he leads the group to a table in the corner but Soonyoung distracts you with the menu.

“I had this thing memorized since freshman year, I can’t believe you’ve never been here. The pancakes are my favorite for hangover cures, not that I’m hungover by the way, I’m actually running on my third energy drink.” He taps the picture, a golden stack of perfectly fluffy pancakes that can only be photoshop.

“Aren’t energy drinks bad for your heart?”

Soonyoung shrugs. “Joshua invented this to get through finals, you mix Red Bull, Bang, and Coke and it keeps you up for three days straight. Great for when you’re nervous because you physically have to do something about it.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” you say. “Wait, why are you nervous?”

“Your test results come out today,” he says too quickly.

You consider debating with him but a waitress approaches, wearing a fifties frock and a high ponytail with a ribbon that probably looked like a bow at the start of her shift but has drooped down and now just looks sad. Her face is a mask of emotions, not a smile, not a frown, just emptiness, a contrast to the button clipped to her collar making her “Happy.”

“The usual?” She asks, pausing at you. She tilts her head and you can see the mask twisting at the edges, a frown almost forming on her brow. She glances at Soonyoung. “Is this who I think it is?”

“Who do you think it is?” Soonyoung asks at the same time that Joshua and Seungcheol say, “Yes.”

The corner of Happy’s lips turn into a tiny smile that seems to be her equivalent of a grin. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Okay, haha, very funny,” Soonyoung says. “Stop harassing my friend. We’ll order when we have a chance to look at the menu.”

Happy raises her eyebrow just slightly at the word “friend,” but closes her notepad. She returns to a pastel pink bar where you can clearly see her whispering and gesturing to you.

“Why do so many people know me?” You mutter, shrinking into the corner of the booth.

“The thing about Drunk Soonyoung is that he doesn’t really shut up,” Seungcheol says.

“That’s being gentle,” Joshua says. “One time he spent four hours describing Finding Nemo. That’s longer than the actual movie.”

“It’s a good movie,” Soonyoung says.

“The point is,” Seungcheol says, glaring at Joshua, “he tends to talk when he’s drunk. Usually about good things, things that he… Well, things that he likes.”

You turn your head to look at Soonyoung, who is once again pretending to study the menu. “You like studying for the LSAT that much?”

Joshua unsuccessfully tries to hide his laugh with a snort while Seungcheol gains slightly more success with a fake cough. Soonyoung doesn’t react at all, staring at the painted flowers on the menu. Eventually, he shrugs. “I’m dedicated to the bet.” He points at a stack of pancakes covered in bananas and chocolate. “That’s what I usually get.”

“Isn’t against all rules of gym core and muscle building to eat decadent things?”

“Did you just call working out ‘gym core?’” Seungcheol asks.

“Am I wrong?”

“Nope!” Soonyoung says brightly. “And cheat days are a thing, so do you want to split it or not?”

“You know I can’t say no to bananas and chocolate.”

“And pancakes!” He waves down the waitress and points to the stack.

“Ah, the new Soonyoung,” she says. “You guys getting your actual usual?”

Joshua and Seungcheol nod and she doesn’t bother to write any of it down. Then again she already knows their orders. Except she called Soonyoung’s “new.” Before you can ask what she meant, a shout makes you jump. You turn around to see a stream of boys entering, enough of whom you recognize that you realize at least half the frat has rolled into the diner. The waitresses roll their eyes and groan but somehow they don’t look all that upset.

“Mr. President!” The tallest boy, Johnny according to Soonyoung’s Instagram tags, holds a fist over his heart and pounds it a couple times. Seungcheol nods and greets each of the boys, most of whom seem to still be in various stages of inebriation. Almost all of them glance at you and whisper to each other, and you get the feeling they know exactly who you are.

Just what has Soonyoung said about you?

“How are we doing on time?” One of them calls out.

“46 minutes,” Joshua says. You frown. 46 minutes… until 9? Do they all know about today?

You tap Soonyoung on the arm. “What’s going on?”

“You see, the thing is,” he says, “apparently I was nervous?” He tries to fake a laugh but it sounds strained. “I don’t really know but the guys made me tell them about today and then I didn’t really know what was happening but I guess they followed us here? Thought you might like moral support, or something.”

You peek out at the booths crowded with frat bros and cringe back into your seat when they grin at you. “They’re all looking at me.”

“Well, I guess I do talk about you a lot,” he says, only loud enough for you to hear. He won’t meet your eyes.

Ask him why. You want to be brave. You want to be right about the answer you think he’ll give you. You chew the inside of your cheek.

“Because of the bet?”

Soonyoung doesn’t answer for a moment. “I guess.”

Coward.

“Why are we whispering?” Joshua asks, leaning across Soonyoung towards you. “Are we gossiping?”

Soonyoung pushes him off. “Butt out.”

“Just telling Soonyoung that I’ve never had an army of drunk guys rooting for me before,” you say.

“Could have had it sooner if you came to a party,” Seungcheol says.

“You really want me at a party that bad? We just met.”

Seungcheol glances at Soonyoung, who shakes his head. He sighs. “If only I could tell you why you need to come.”

You frown between the three men. “I don’t like when people talk in circles over me.”

“Just promise you’ll come to the Christmas party. It’ll all make sense then,” Seungcheol says. You’ve heard a lot about Seungcheol from Soonyoung, and the more you listen to him, the more you believe it. He’s a strange man.

“I’ll think about making an appearance.”

“Really?” Soonyoung whips around to face you and you know that you have to come now. You haven’t seen him this excited since you let him skip studying to party. No, he’s even more excited now. “You’ll come?”

You can’t stand his gaze so you study the placemats. “Maybe.”

He grabs your hand until you meet his eyes. “Please?”

The Soonyoung Sparkle. You never win against it. “Fine.”

“Get a room,” Joshua says behind a very fake cough. You pull your hand back into your lap and pretend like you aren’t embarrassed.

“How long now?” You shout out.

“40 minutes,” someone answers. You groan and lean back into the sofa. Studying was hard enough but waiting makes you want to pull out each individual hair on your head. You stare at the ceiling, trying to decide if the stain looks more like a horse or a flower.

“Look at this.” Soonyoung passes his phone in front of you, forcing you to look down. His Instagram is open to a picture of a kitten looking drunk, face covered in milk. Such and obvious attempt to distract you but you smile anyway.

“Sweet,” you say and even you aren’t sure if you mean the cat or Soonyoung. He shows you cat pictures until the food finally arrives (33 minutes to go). You have to wait another five minutes because Soonyoung insists on having a photoshoot, despite your protests that you look like you just woke up (he raises his eyebrows at that). You stop fighting when Joshua makes him cut a piece of the pancake and feed it to you. Chocolate nearly drops in your lap but Soonyoung shoots his hand out at the last second and catches it.

“Okay, can we please just eat,” you say. Joshua and Seungcheol shrug and pretend like they weren’t instigating the pictures and telling you and Soonyoung how to pose.

Soonyoung was right about the bananas and chocolate. Rich and decadent, they’re delicious. When he cuts you a slice and pushes it toward you, you can even forget the countdown to the end of the world. Or, more accurately, the end of the world doesn’t mean anything to you when Soonyoung smiles at you like that.

You eat slowly enough to bring you to the ten minute mark. Fear mixes with the dessert for breakfast in your stomach, twisting it until it threatens to jump out of your throat. Soonyoung takes your hand under the table and holds it. You don’t run away this time.

He holds you to the planet again, keeps you from floating away and disappearing before you can reach the stars. It’s Soonyoung that keeps your heart beating. Always Soonyoung.

Seungcheol and Joshua chat, Soonyoung piping in a few times, but their words don’t reach you. Stuck somewhere between crushed beneath the weight of the world and floating away, you focus on the clock, watching the seconds tick closer and closer.

“Last minute!” Someone behind you finally shouts. Soonyoung squeezes your hand. You pull up the website on your phone and put in your login information and hover over the SUBMIT. At thirty seconds, they start shouting it out.

“Ten!”

“Nine!”

“Eight!”

“Seven!”

“Six!”

“Five!”

“Four!”

“Three!”

“Two!”

“One!”

Half the guys start cheering already, probably forgetting the count down doesn’t mean as much as the results themselves. You hit SUBMIT and watch the little wheel spin around and around and around until it finally refreshes. The number stares back at you, impossible to read right in front of you.

169.

“Congratulations!” Soonyoung shouts, throwing his arms around you and squeezing while you try to comprehend what that means. 169. The number should be all you can think about but Soonyoung holds you, shouting how proud he is, how he always believed in you.

“169!” Seungcheol shouts, miles away from your bubble. You can hear the guys break out into cheers, hear them chanting the number (which turns into 69) but it’s just you and Soonyoung. The world didn’t end and Soonyoung is still by your side.

The rest of the morning is a blur. Every member of the frat insists on congratulating you, which mostly means a lot of hugs, though one of the more drunk guys tried to spin you around on his shoulder. You laugh when you’d usually frown and find your way back to Soonyoung’s side like a magnet.

Maybe it’s the euphoria that gives you courage.

“Hey Soonyoung?”

“Hm?”

You say it before you can think too much. “Maybe just the two of us next time?”

He grins before you can finish speaking. “I’d love that.”

You have the courtesy to let Soonyoung sleep in as much as he wants. You wait for him at Barb’s, trying to figure out how to call this a date.

You’ve seen him a couple times since you got your score back, but you needed to study for finals and he had to make up for missing a lot of frat activities. You’ve only seen him in passing, nothing to fill the Soonyoung shaped hole in your heart. But today that will change. You will celebrate together and you will tell him how you feel. And then… you have no idea.

It’s just Soonyoung there’s nothing to be nervous about. Too bad your body doesn’t agree with you. Every nerve stands at attention, jumping at the bell that rings when the door opens. You don’t worry when Soonyoung doesn’t get to Barb’s by 8:30 like he said he would. Even at 8:45, you aren’t worried.

It’s only at 8:55 that you really start to wonder where he is. Maybe you should have picked him up. Knowing him, there’s a 50% chance he’s lying in a ditch after a failed attempt to recreate an impossible stunt from Fast and Furious. At 9, you call him. Between each silence in the ring, you wait for his voice but it never comes. He uses the automated voicemail, so you don’t even get his voice telling you to leave a message.

The anxiety turns to fear while you wait. The door rings and you see a fluff of bleach blonde hair and jump up. But though you recognize the face, it isn’t Soonyoung.

Chan, one of the younger members of the frat, with Mingyu and a guy whose name you forgot. They all have the same look in their eyes when they see you, far too much like pity.

“You’re YN, right?” Mingyu asks. “You’re supposed to meet Soonyoung?” The two guys with him, easily identifiable as frat members between their unkempt hair and sweatshirts plastered with Greek letters, stop mid conversation and glance at each other.

“Is he okay?” You ask, still standing in the awkward position in the booth.

“He’s got his score back,” Mingyu says.

“We were supposed to–”

“Yeah, I know,” Mingyu says. “It was a 167. You should really talk to him yourself.” He pauses, glancing at his frat brothers but they shrug. “He’s at the house. See if you can talk some sense into him.”

You’re too afraid to ask any other questions so you just watch Mingyu and the other two walk past, and pretend that they aren’t whispering and stealing glances at you.

Going to a frat house was never on your bucket list but your feet travel without guidance. You find yourself in front of a rather nondescript house. No bodies hang out from windows, no one is passed out in the yard. Then again it’s a weekday.

You pause at the door, wondering if you should knock. You tap your hand on the door and it slides open, the latch bolt pushed completely in. You step inside tentatively, peeking around but it’s quiet. You turn the corner to find an open room and Soonyoung sitting on a couch, glass with a bright liquid in his hand. He doesn’t even look at you.

“Are you seriously drunk right now?”

Soonyoung just shrugs, taking another sip from the glass. Even from here you can smell that it’s more tequila than fruit punch.

You shake your head, crossing the room sitting beside him even though he didn’t invite you to sit down. He was considerably cuter the last time you saw him drunk. You’ve gotten used to the power of Soonyoung’s facial expressions, his smiles, his frowns, the way his eyes glaze over when he’s bored, the way they gleam when he daydreams; they’re as precious to you as Soonyoung himself. But his face is a clean slate now, not a smile, not a frown, just a blank stare.

“You know a 167 is still insanely good, right?”

He shakes his head.

“Soonyoung.” He doesn’t look at you, so you grab his drink. Any other day and you would have failed miserably but his alcohol-impaired senses make him slow enough for you to get a hand on the half-empty glass. He glares at you but you don’t yield, tightening your grip and pulling the bottle even harder.

“Let go,” you growl. “Talk to me like a normal human.”

He shakes his head, pulling on the glass so you yank back, except you overestimate how weak he is like this, and the glass flies out of his hand, the contents spilling all over you. The red liquid sinks into your blue sweater, soaking you through all three layers.

“What the hell?” Soonyoung says.

“That gets your fucking attention? Spilling your drink?” You say. “You know, I really thought you were different.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re acting like a child. So you didn’t win the bet. Who fucking cares? Do you know how hard it is to get higher than a 160? Soonyoung, you are smart, and you worked so hard for this. You could go to law school with that score. You could graduate above a 2.3 if you stopped acting like a stereotypical fuck bro and actually studied.

“You know, you could actually be something if you wanted. You don’t have to get a degree and work at a corporate job that sucks your soul away until the Soonyoung that actually matters is gone. I know it’s easier this way, but if you actually tried to dream, you could do something. I don’t get it, honestly. Because everyone thinks you’re an idiot you act like one? Is that what it is?”

“You don’t have to pretend like you don’t think the same thing.”

You snort. “I don’t, but clearly you won’t believe me. You think that if you have to work for something then it’s not worth it when you could be so much more.”

“Why do you even care?” Soonyoung asks, looking you in the eyes for the first time. For a moment, you think you might actually be wrong, because all you see in his eyes is pain. A physical force that constricts your heart and makes you weak in the knees, Soonyoung looks at you like he’s been fighting a war you never knew about, like he’s been suffering in silence for a lifetime. He looks at you like you’ve broken his heart.

Why do I care? You could scoff. Because I’ve been in love with you ever since you fell asleep on my shoulder. I’ve been fighting this stupid crush for so long that I don’t know who I am without it. I don’t know who I am without you. I care because every day the world proves that we aren’t worthy of this planet, that love can’t solve all problems yet you make me question it all. You don’t just bring light into my life, you make it glitter. And I can’t tell you any of this.

“I don’t know.” The lie tastes bitter but it’s still sweeter than rejection.

“Then why are you here?” Soonyoung looks away. Without his eyes pinning you down, you can breathe again, but every inhale still drags against your heart. You stand up. Afterall, you don’t have an answer for him.

“I take it back. You are an idiot,” you mutter over his head as you walk past him. You make it to the corner of the street before the tears finally spill over your cheeks, and all the way back to your room before you can’t breathe.

Without the distraction of finals, you are left with your own thoughts, your words and Soonyoung’s floating around your head. You have always been something of a hermit but you’ve become J.D. Salinger himself, only leaving your room to sneak into the kitchen and scrounge for scraps of junk food that Jihoon hasn’t thrown away yet. You watch so much reality TV that you start to dream about it.

Every episode the people, a family living on a homestead that just happens to dress in brand name clothes and drive a Benz, fight and cry and make up. You yell at the mother when she forces her daughter to change because she didn’t think polka dots are appropriate and cry along with the daughter when she starts to sniffle in her confessional, wondering if her mother would ever approve of her choices, whether it was clothes or the people she wants to date.

You bet your confessional would be a hit if it was ever filmed. Tears run down your cheeks as you practice it in the mirror, choking out an apology for calling him an idiot and telling the whole world what you aren’t brave enough to tell him.

Jun calls but you can’t answer. He leaves three voicemails: an apology, a goofy one telling you he’ll be back soon, and a final one, yelling at you to pick up or at least let him know you’re alive. You text him an apology you don’t know if you mean. He says thank you anyway and doesn’t call again.

You have no plans to change your schedule (wake up, steal food, cry, sleep) but on the third day you run out of goldfish and can’t find anything in the kitchen that doesn’t make you nauseous. To make matters worse, despite the fact that it’s seven in the morning (the earliest you’ve woken up since the Fight), Jihoon catches you.

You’ve successfully avoided him and his inevitable lecture, slamming your door shut and ignoring his knocks but he catches you off guard today. He sneaks in from his morning workout wearing a black t-shirt and slides that he somehow manages to walk stealthily in, scaring you when you close the fridge and find him standing where the door was.

“Are you done hiding?”

“I’m not hiding,” you mutter.

He folds his arms.

“Fine,” you say. “I’m not done hiding.”

“Well too fucking bad,” Jihoon says. You try to step past him but he holds his arm out. You’ll never beat him in a physical fight so you step back, shaking your head.

“Have it your way. Go ahead.” You wave your hand. “Get it all out. Yell at me or lecture me or whatever, I don’t care. You’re going to tell me that I’m an idiot? That I shouldn’t be so afraid of rejection, that I’m blind to how he feels?

“Or are you going to tell me that I shouldn’t trust someone like him? That I shouldn’t be crying over a goddamn frat boy, I’m better than this, I’m better than him.” You choke back a sob, not sure what words are coming out anymore. You wipe at the tears in your eyes and are so focused on trying not to cry that you don’t notice Jihoon walking away. You do see him come back, blurry shape coming into focus as you blink away the tears. He holds something in his hand, a navy blue square. A throw pillow from the couch?

He shifts it in his hand until he holds the corner with the zipper, swinging it a couple times back and forth. Then he yanks his arm back and arcs the pillow in a wide loop, landing directly on your head.

“Ow!” You cry but Jihoon just swings again, hitting your arm this time. He hits you so hard it knocks you off balance, sending you to the floor. Jihoon doesn’t hesitate, swinging the pillow into you again and again, every inch of you.

“You. Are. An. Idiot.” He grunts out each word with a blow. “You really think you’re better than him?”

He finally pauses, not even breathing heavily. You shake your head to answer him. “Of course not.”

“Good,” he says. Then he hits you again and again and again.

“Ow, Jihoon, what the hell?” You bury your head in your knees and hold your arms over you, trying in vain to protect yourself.

“I’m not your babysitter,” he says. “I’m not your father, or your brother, or any of that shit. I’m your best friend and you’re being an idiot and I’m not going to stop hitting you until you get some sense knocked into you.” He freezes, as if realizing exactly what he said. “Wait, no–that’s not what I mean, shit, sorry, but–”

You peek out from your arms and find Jihoon opening and closing his mouth, trying to figure out what to say. He looks like a fish out of water, and it occurs to you he is a fish out of water. He’s never had to comfort you before, probably never had to comfort anyone. No wonder he’s so bad at it.

You wouldn’t laugh at him and borderline abuse, but your emotions are beyond fried, and he just looks so funny standing over you with a pillow raised, still sputtering half apologies. You try to stop the laugh before it comes out but it turns into a snort and then you can’t stop laughing, tears that you tried to push back falling freely. You lay back on the floor and laugh until your sides hurt, only vaguely aware of Jihoon laughing above you. Eventually he joins you on the floor.

“You know what I meant,” he says. The pillow rests on the floor between his legs, all the fluff on the far end from the one-sided pillow fight.

“I knew what you meant without the pillow.”

“Too bad,” Jihoon says. “I’m tired of listening to the theme song of that god awful show. You could at least watch something like–”

“I swear if you bring up an anime, you’ll feel exactly how hard that pillow can hit.”

Jihoon laughs, patting it a couple times. “I saw him the other day. He looked tired.” He pauses but you don’t dare speak. “We didn’t speak. I don’t even think he saw me. But it doesn’t matter because I’m not the one he needs to talk to.”

“I know,” you say.

“Then why are you still on the floor?”

Because you’re scared. Because it would be easier to just give up now, for once to ignore putting in the hard work and just let it pass. But just because it’s the easy option doesn’t mean it’s the right option. At the very least you need to apologize to him.

“What if he hates me?”

Jihoon snorts. “Then he’ll get some pillow violence too.” He pauses. “He doesn’t, though.”

“It doesn’t mean that it will turn out okay.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Jihoon says. “But no matter what happens, you’ll deal with it. And even if it absolutely sucks in the moment, eventually it will be over, and it sure as hell will be better than that stupid fucking show.”

You nod, setting your chin on your knees. Your stomach turns in anticipation for what you will have to do, but he’s right. It’s time to stop running. Tonight is the Christmas party, and you were never formally uninvited. Somehow you doubt Seungcheol will throw you out. It’s time to get off the floor and get ready.

“Have you ever thought of being a life coach?”

“Hell no.”

What am I doing here? You fake a smile at Seungcheol and swallow the shot as fast as you can, grimacing as the vodka burns everything from the inside of your mouth to the depths of your stomach. You should have just stuck to your mixed drink only policy but Soonyoung always has you breaking your rules. Even when he isn’t with you.

Seungcheol disappears as soon as you take the drink, and you don't see anyone else you are comfortable enough to chat with, though that list is quite short. You do a turn of the house, which looks marginally better than the last time you saw it ,the benefit of bad lighting. It’s already crowded with more people than you’ve ever seen on campus. You make your way through each room on the lower floor, finding more than a couple bleach blondes. None are who you’re looking for. You stop in the living room, where you saw him last.

“He isn’t here.” You turn at the voice. An unfamiliar boy stands next to you, holding a half-empty Smirnoff Ice. “He went to visit family or something.” He pauses, looking you up and down. “At least that’s what he said.”

You nod. You find it doesn’t surprise you that he seems to know who you are. You suppose you’ve grown used to it, just one of the side-effects of being close with Soonyoung. Though it’s still strange, it doesn’t make you uncomfortable anymore. Or it wouldn’t, if you didn’t think this stranger is implying that it’s your fault Soonyoung isn’t at the ‘Party of the Year.’

You can’t stand his gaze so you make your way back towards the drinks, grabbing the first bottle you could find and chugging half of the lukewarm drink. It tastes like a fruit you can’t recognize and carbonation and the more you drink the harder it is to swallow but you force it down.

You came to apologize. He isn’t here, so why do you stay? Because you promised him? Do you really miss him that much? That you would come here and suffer through all this chaos, just for the memory of him? It doesn’t make any sense but you think that might be a side effect of the alcohol. You get another drink just in case you’re still sober.

Your head pounds, the aching feeling of the stage between drunk and sober. Normally you’d like to be sound asleep by now, or at least in the comfort of your home, but you can’t bring yourself to leave. It’s hot and sweaty, the music is way too loud, and you can’t find water anywhere, but you stay anyway, because you’re an idiot that fell in love.

You curl up on the couch, opposite of a couple making out as if the room isn’t full of people, waiting for just a glimpse of him that will never appear. Even drunk, you think it’s pitiful, but you can’t stop.

You didn’t think you could fall asleep in all the noise but you open your eyes when you feel the world tilt sideways. You’re vaguely aware of the arms underneath your legs and back, cradling you against someone’s chest. No, not just someone.

Because you aren’t enough of an idiot, you can tell it’s him, his sweet scent, maybe even just his arms. Soonyoung carries you out of the living room and up the stairs, the blaring music fading only slightly.

“I thought you weren’t here,” you mumble.

Soonyoung frowns down at you. “You okay?”

You shake your head, suddenly realizing there are tears in your eyes. No, I’m not okay, I love you, you want to say. He squeezes you a little tighter, trying to hug you while still carrying you.

With your head resting against his chest, you can fully appreciate his beauty. His hair is black, which suits him even though he looks nothing like your Soonyoung anymore. You reach up and trace the lines of his face that are unchanging, the sharp straight line of his jaw, the gentle curve of his nose, his soft eyebrows. You drop your hand when you realize he’s staring at you, belatedly realizing you never got to his lips. You can only imagine how soft they’d be, soft like Soonyoung himself.

“You’re crying,” Soonyoung says softly. You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or not. He pauses in front of a door, struggling to open it without dropping you. Finally the door swings open and he sets you down on a bed, taking a deep breath and sitting beside you.

He brushes the tears from your eyes, as Soonyoung as ever. Sweet as ever. Sweet and Soonyoung. They should be the same word. You make a mental note to email Merriam-Webster’s dictionary and make the suggestion.

Soonyoung doesn’t say anything, just watching you with those perfect eyes. His hand rests on your face even though the tears are long gone, thumb tracing shapes on your cheek.

“You swore you’d do anything for me,” you say.

“Anything,” Soonyoung repeats.

You turn to the walls, knocking his hand off your cheek, not daring to look him in the eyes. Even drunk, you are a coward. He’s put up pictures on his wall, a couple Polaroids but mostly printed pictures, with the frat, some childhood pictures, and one that you recognize. The picture of the two of you at the beach that you thought you didn’t send, where you are looking at him with all the love in your heart. You trace his smile, blinding even in paper form.

“Could you maybe try loving me back then?” You mumble. Your eyes feel heavy between the alcohol and the tears and you’ve said what you needed to say, so you let them take over, closing your eyes and letting the blasting music from downstairs drown out any thoughts. And because it’s so loud and you’ve already drifted off to sleep, there’s no way you could hear his answer.

“I already do.”

The first thing you do when you wake up is throw up. You make it out of the bed but not to the bathroom, mostly because you don’t actually know where it is. You grab the nearest bucket-shaped item, which happens to be a mostly empty trash can. You lean away as soon as you’re done, breathing through your mouth and looking away from the mess. Belatedly, you realize someone is patting your back, brushing hair out of your face.

“Better?” Soonyoung asks. His knees rests against your lower back, one hand resting on your back, the other caressing your face. Thank god you already threw up because looking at him makes your stomach twist again and if there was anything in you, it would come up again. If you could throw up your heart, you would. As it is, the organ is trying to climb its way up your throat, whether it’s guilt or heartbreak you don’t know.

You nod in answer to his question, letting him help you up. Your head pounds and though you know you won’t throw up again, your stomach flips. Right, your policy of mixed drinks is definitely reinstated after this.

“Sorry I threw up in your trash can,” you say.

“Believe me, that is not the worst that trash can has seen,” Soonyoung says. “Wait, that sounds bad, I didn’t mean it in a weird way, I just mean–” He stops himself, shaking his head. “It’s a frat house.”

“It’s your room,” you say softly. With sober (albeit heavily hungover) eyes, you take in the room again. It’s tiny, one bed pushed against a wall with a desk set right next to it. Unsurprisingly, it’s stacked with protein powder and a pile of frat flyers, laptop balancing off the edge, not a paper in sight. Except for the one next to his bed, the walls are bare, an ugly shade of beige except for a circle filled with white plaster that looks suspiciously like the reformed crime scene of a fist going through drywall. It must be from whoever owned the room before Soonyoung.

The wall next to his bed is covered in pictures. You remember being amazed by them last night. Your eyes zero in on the picture of the two of you, right next to the pillow that’s still dented from your head.

“Did I steal your bed?” You frown except the movement hurts your head.

“I slept in Johnny’s room since he’s decided to disappear off the face of the planet instead of accepting the fact that he graduates next semester,” Soonyoung says. “I actually just came in here for some clothes, which reminds me.” He rummages through a drawer, pulling out a wrinkled t-shirt and handing it to you. “If you want a change.”

You glance down and feel like throwing up all over again. Your favorite shirt is covered in stains, alcohol, vomit, and something you definitely don’t want to name. If you weren’t feeling so terrible already, you’d cry that Soonyoung is seeing you like this.

“I’ll get you a toothbrush, too,” he mutters, disappearing and leaving you to scramble to switch shirts. The white dri-fit is meant to be a workout shirt, though it’s clear that it would be oversize on Soonyoung. Either way, the soft fabric is gentle on your skin, much better than the jeans you slept in. Too bad you’re stuck in them until you get back to your apartment.

You could run away right now. Soonyoung probably wouldn’t be surprised. But he’s being nice to you, so much nicer than you deserve. Sweet and Soonyoung. But you came here to apologize, and though last night got derailed, you can’t keep running from it. Besides, it’s not like the morning can get much worse.

So when Soonyoung comes back proudly brandishing an unopened toothbrush that he may or may not have stolen from Seungcheol’s bathroom, you accept it gratefully. You stare yourself down in the bathroom, fighting nausea and an impending migraine because you have a mission to achieve, a real mission unlike last night. It’s still a haze, but you don’t think you’ll ever forget how gently Soonyoung cradled you against his chest, the brush of his fingers on your cheek. If he didn’t show up this morning, you’d think it was a dream.

Soonyoung’s door is open when you finish but he isn’t in his room. You grab your bag from the floor and venture down the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing. There’s a couple people passed out in the living room, and one person snoring softly in the kitchen, head folded in his arms in a position that must be incredibly painful for his neck. But it’s where you find Soonyoung, digging through the fridge and finally pulling out a water bottle. He hands it to you, along with a bottle of pills.

“Thank you,” you sigh, not even bothering to check the label for the brand. You take a couple and chug half the bottle, gaslighting yourself into believing that it will instantly revive you (it doesn’t work and your head still pounds).

“Are you hungry?” Soonyoung asks. He opens the fridge again, this time wide enough to show the shelves that are filled with beer, vodka, and White Claws. There’s a pizza box and some eggs, but not much else.

“How are any of you alive?” You ask softly, glancing at the snoring person on the counter.

“Yuta can sleep through an apocalypse, don’t worry about him,” Soonyoung says, waving his hand. He closes the fridge, leaning against it. “And most of us keep our actual food in mini-fridges. I just cleared mine out for break, so I don’t have anything in it.” He doesn’t say anything else about vanishing.

“I’m pretty sure that pizza has been in there since the start of the semester and I’ve never seen eggs in here before though, so I don’t think you should risk any of this,” Soonyoung says. “McDonald’s fries are a far superior hangover cure, they’ve never failed me.”

“There’s a McDonald’s nearby?”

Soonyoung grins, pulling keys out of his pocket and spinning them around his fingers a couple times, except they fly off and clatter on the floor. The man asleep on the counter, Yuta apparently, stirs but doesn’t move. You can’t help but smile as Soonyoung scrambles to retrieve them from the floor. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was flustered.

“There isn’t one,” Soonyoung explains, leading the way to the door. “But I have the keys to Seungcheol’s car.”

“I’m not really comfortable with grand theft auto,” you say, though you don’t stop following him to Seungcheol’s giant white Jeep.

“He gave me the keys last night when I walked in,” Soonyoung says. “Something about owing me. He was pretty drunk.” He darts around to the passenger side before you can, opening the door for you. He waves his hand when you frown at him, as if you’re the one acting strange. Thinking with this headache is too hard so you just get into the car and strap the seatbelt on.

“I can’t believe you thought I’d steal a car,” Soonyoung says. He turns the engine on and scans the front of the car before finally settling his right hand on the gear shift.

“You have driven this car before, right?”

“Of course,” Soonyoung says a little too fast. You grab onto the door handle and hope that your stomach really is empty.

Soonyoung’s driving isn’t the worst you’ve ever experienced; that title goes to Jihoon, who was banned from touching car keys after his Mario Kart driving. That said, you think he’s a good second place. He slams on the gas and the brakes too hard and drives altogether too fast. He blasts the radio and sings along purposefully off key. You should be terrified but it’s the most fun you’ve ever had riding in the passenger seat.

“I’m never riding with you again,” you say, breathless from laughing. He pulls to a stop at the red light, the Golden arches of your destination still one light away. “You know yellow lights mean slow down right?”

“I stopped at this one!” Soonyoung says. “I’ll have you know I haven’t been in an accident.” He pauses. “Since I was nineteen.”

You nod, pursing your lips to stop yourself from smiling fully. “That’s what I figured.” You peek at Soonyoung and he’s smiling too.

So different from the last time you saw him. You don’t deserve this. You shouldn’t be able to laugh and joke around with him so easily, not when you still haven’t apologized. And Soonyoung shouldn’t be looking at you like that, genuine fondness in his eyes.

“The light’s green,” you say. His smile fades a little when he turns his head and drives ahead, stepping lightly for once. You’re so close now, but a car going straight in the right lane prevents him from turning.

The pain medicine must have kicked in because your headache is slowly fading, replaced by heartache that no medication can cure.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You blurt out.

The blinker beeps a steady rhythm in the empty silence. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Nothing’s ever obvious with you, Soonyoung,” you say softly.

“Oh.” The light turns green and he guides the car slowly into the parking lot, stopping in a spot instead of pulling up to the drive through. As soon as the car is in park, he turns to face you. There’s a crease in his forehead that you recognize from the rare occasions that he would actually talk to you seriously. “YN, I genuinely thought I was being clear about this from the beginning, but if you still really don’t get it, then I’ll say it straight up: I like you. I’ve liked you since the day we met and then I fell in love with you.

“Did you know you’re the first person that’s ever genuinely believed in me? I mean, I know I have friends, and my family means well, but they always get this look in their eye whenever I talk about trying for things, like it was cute that I was trying, but they never actually believed in me. And I started to believe them too. I started to believe that I couldn’t believe in myself.” He frowns. “That makes no sense. The point is, you are the reason I started to believe in myself again.

“No one’s ever looked at me like you do. No one’s ever told me to get my shit together–well, they have, but you’re the only one that told me it was because I could be better.

“You say it wasn’t obvious, but I’ve tried to tell you a thousand times. I flirted, I tried to ask you on a date so many times, and I finally accepted that you’d never see me like that, so I was a dick. I told you off, even though you were right. I’m so sorry for that, and I’m sorry I ran away, and I’m sorry it took me so long to apologize.”

“Stop,” you say. Soonyoung’s eyes widen, tears welling up, and you realize he thinks you’re rejecting him. “Stop apologizing!” His brow creases in confusion, an adorable frown. Summoning all your courage, you reach out, resting your hand on his. “I’m the one that’s sorry. I didn’t have any right to judge you and the choices you were making, and I shouldn’t have yelled at you when I knew how much the bet meant to you.”

You squeeze his hand, closing your eyes. “And I think I was a little oblivious on purpose. I’m not the kind of person that has crushes, let alone crushes that like me back, so I freaked a little and missed all the signs.” You open your eyes and grin at him. It’s easy to feel brave when he smiles back at you. “But I like you, Soonyoung. I like you so much, I don’t have enough words to express it. My whole life has been about my future, my career, and it’s exhausting, but being with you makes it all exciting again. Like, no matter what happens, if you’re with me, it won’t just be okay, it’ll be fun.”

Soonyoung beams. “Really?”

You squeeze his hand. “I like you.” Like the first time you took the LSAT, you can’t think of a single word, except instead of damning your future this feels like the start of it. Soonyoung sits across from you and you don’t need words.

You don’t know how long you sit there, but reality sets in when your stomach growls. You glance outside the window and remember where you are. “Did you just confess to me in a McDonald’s parking lot?”

“Better than drunk in my own bed.”

“I didn’t!” You let go of his hand to hide your face.

Soonyoung grins. “You were cute!”

“I don’t remember it, it doesn't count!”

“Whatever you say,” Soonyoung says, leaning over the center console. He gently pulls your hands away from your face, hand circling your wrist gently. You instinctively hold your breath, though you don’t lean away. Soonyoung leans a little closer, forehead resting against yours.

“This okay?” He whispers, breath kissing your lips, and you remember that less than an hour ago, you were throwing up. Your head still aches and your stomach is still queasy and your whole body feels disgusting.

“We are not having our first kiss in a McDonald’s parking lot,” you say, leaning back. Soonyoung sighs, but he sits back in his chair, settling for grabbing your hand and interlacing his fingers with yours.

“Fine,” Soonyoung says. He rubs his thumb back and forth, and when you meet his eyes, you see a familiar glint of trouble. “You know I’m still sworn to you. Whatever you want.”

The words go straight to your heart. You could live a thousand lives and never meet someone as genuine as Soonyoung. You know that he means it, heart and soul, that he’d do anything for you. And it should be terrifying that he’s willing to bear his heart for you, that you are willing to do the same. But it’s Soonyoung. It’s easy to trust him with it, because even though he breaks half the computers he touches and can’t hold onto a pencil for his life, he won’t ever drop your heart.

I love you. One day you’ll be able to say it, one day you’ll scream it like you so desperately want to. But until then, you settle for his certified brilliant smile and the gentle brush of his lips on the back of your hand, only letting go to turn the engine back on.

“Let’s get you some fries,” he says. “Then kisses?”

You shake your head and laugh, slipping your hand back into his.

Before he can put the car into gear, his phone rings. He stares at the screen for a moment, frowning like he can’t decide whether he should answer it or not. Finally he slides the green across, turning on speaker.

“Hey Seungcheol, I’m with—”

“Where the hell are you? And where is my car?” Seungcheol’s voice is somewhere between angry and concerned. “You think it’s okay to vanish and then show up only to steal my car?”

“First of all, you gave me the keys,” Soonyoung says. He glances at you. “And I’m at McDonald’s because YN desperately needed a hangover cure.”

“Hey,” you say so Seungcheol knows you’re there.

The line is quiet for so long you think Soonyoung’s phone has finally given up on him but eventually he says, “You’re with YN?”

“We talked,” he says. “And we’re good.”

You snort. “That’s how you’re going to describe it?”

“Are we not good?”

You glance at your hand still intertwined with his, the Soonyoung Sparkle glittering back at you when you look him in the eyes. Good? There’s not a word to describe how you feel right now.

“We are beyond good.”

“Are you crying?” You whisper. Soonyoung shakes his head, chin brushing against your head but when he inhales again, he sniffles. You reach up to pat his cheek and are entirely unsurprised when it’s wet. On screen Elle Woods continues her speech, for once not wearing pink.

“She’s just so cool,” Soonyoung says. You lift your head off his chest so you can look him in the eyes. The temptation to tease him is hard to resist but he pouts his lips and you see another tear slip out. You kiss his cheek, out of habit more than anything. Strange how much can change in two weeks, how something you’ve never imagined doing has become natural. But being with Soonyoung is just like that. New and old at the same time, the kind of comfort that has you planning how to make this last a lifetime.

Soonyoung wraps his arms around you tighter, so you nestle back into his chest, turning away from the end of the movie to close your eyes and breathe in his cologne.

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen this,” you whisper, lips brushing against his neck. “The whole bet was based on a movie you haven’t seen.”

“You’re missing the end,” he says. His voice rumbles in your ear, drowning out his heartbeat.

“I’ve seen it before.” Your bed really isn’t built for two people to lay down together. You are laying more on Soonyoung than the mattress but it’s not the first time. From the way he holds you, you doubt it’ll be the last.

The credits roll too quickly, but Soonyoung still doesn’t let go. He pulls you up so that your head is next to his, nose centimeters away from yours.

“So am I officially qualified to go to law school?” He asks.

“You are Elle Woods certified,” you say. “But you’re sure that’s what you want?”

“I mean I have to get in. But I figure if I’m going to waste away at a desk, I might as well do it for something I believe in.” He pauses. “With someone that believes in me.” He presses a kiss to the side of your neck, breath tickling the sensitive skin. You can’t help but sigh.

“That doesn’t mean it’s what you want,” you say, after several heartbeats of struggling to think.

“I want…” His words “To be with you. However you’ll have me.” His arms loosen, hands sliding down to your waist.

“Still not answering the question,” you breathe out but you can’t even remember what the question is, not when he’s shifting to lay on top of you, lips inching their way up your neck. He kisses your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your lips, then stops, pulling away and meeting your eyes again.

The Soonyoung Sparkle. The grinch has nothing on you–your heart swells so large it feels like it’s going to explode out of your chest–Alien style. Does he know what he does to you? How he’s made everything in your life shine? How happy you are when he’s with you?

“I love you,” you whisper.

Soonyoung blinks at you. “You…”

“I love you,” you say again, this time with more confidence. “I really, really love you.”

Soonyoung grins, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, moving like the world outside has stopped. He makes a bubble around you again, or maybe it’s your own heart; either way the only thing that exists is the way his hands inch up your shirt, the way his lips begin to press harder against yours. You give up on coherent thoughts, settling for wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

“I love you, too,” Soonyoung whispers between kisses. “If that wasn’t obvious.”

Soonyoung who always treated you like you were enough already. Soonyoung who does everything with 100% of his heart. Soonyoung who has always been sincere with you, from the first day you met him. Soonyoung, who you are so lucky to be loved by.

You don’t know how to say any of this in a way that makes sense so you let his fire melt you until you are putty in his arms. He pulls away, and the Soonyoung Sparkle burns, your personal stars flickering back at you.

“You want to–” Soonyoung starts to say, but the door slams open. Then Soonyoung falls on you, pillow rolling off his head.

“I’m taking this back!” Someone shouts while you hear Jihoon cursing.

“Read the room, idiot!” Soonyoung pushes off of you, sitting up and pulling your shirt down as smoothly as he can. You sit up, trying to decide if you should be embarrassed or angry. Facing Jun, frozen midstep with his jaw hanging open a little and Jihoon in the doorway with his arms folded, shaking his head slightly, you opt for the latter.

“Does no one knock in Colombia?” You frown at him. “And when did you get back? Why didn’t you call?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” he mumbles, staring at his feet. “And you were supposed to be alone, according to my sources.” He glares at Jihoon.

“YN didn’t say he was coming over,” he says with a shrug.

You turn your frown to him. “You walked in halfway through the movie, I literally shouted ‘Soonyoung’s over.’”

“I had my headphones on,” he says, though he’s avoiding your eyes too. Typical of your friends, never claiming responsibility for their actions.

“So this is Soonyoung,” Jun says, turning to face him. Soonyoung moved to the edge of the bed, too far away for your taste but probably an appropriate distance for your friends, especially compared to what they walked in on. Jun tilts his head. “You dyed your hair.”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung scratches the back of his head. “Spur of the moment thing.” You miss the blonde, surprisingly fitting considering it isn’t his natural color. But the black suits him too, and probably will help him with law school interviews. Then again, knowing Soonyoung, this color won’t last long either. Good thing there isn’t a color you don’t think suits him.

“We should do this properly,” Soonyoung says. “Go out for dinner or something.”

“Hey, I didn’t get dinner,” Jihoon says.

“You want to get dinner with me?” Soonyoung perks up.

“No, I’m protesting unfair treatment.”

“It’s not unfair, I’m just clearly his favorite,” Jun says.

“Can you guys stop fighting over my boyfriend?” You say.

Jihoon and Jun stare at you. When Soonyoung turns to face you, he grins, eyes sparkling.

“What?”

“You just called him your boyfriend,” Jun says.

“Well… he is.” You feel your cheeks flush. “Why are you guys making it weird?”

“It’s not weird,” Soonyoung says. He scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “It’s cute,” he whispers in your ear. “Adorable.” This only makes you flush even more.

“Well, I don’t want to interrupt, so I’ll just grab this and you two can get back to… whatever.” Jun takes a step towards your bookcase. You grab the pillow that he threw at Soonyoung and nail him in the chest, earning a laugh from Jihoon.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“The book is mine, Soonyoung never fulfilled the bet!” Jun says. You stand up, blocking him from your Pride and Prejudice.

“Hey, I followed through!” Soonyoung says. “We’re dating!”

“I remember the bet stating that you had to ask YN out after you took the LSAT.” Jun turns to him.

“And I did,” Soonyoung says. “You never said it had to be right after.”

Jun eyes him. “That’s cheating.”

“That’s being a lawyer,” you say. “And I think he’s going to be really good at it.”

Jun glances between you and Soonyoung and shakes his head. “Whatever, I’ll get my book back another day.”

You step closer to Soonyoung and he links his pinky with yours. You glance at your friends. “Are you going to stand there forever or are we getting dinner?”

“You two don’t want to get back to what you were doing?” Jihoon asks.

You slip your hand into Soonyoung’s. He meets your eyes and he’s only been your boyfriend for two weeks but looking at him is like looking home. There’s no need to rush.

“Sounds like someone doesn’t want to pick where we go.”

“We should make them pay, too,” Soonyoung says.

You grin at him. “You are the smartest person I know.”

#🌟 stars galaxy #seventeen #seventeen x reader #svt #svt reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fluff #kwon soonyoung #hoshi #svt hoshi #soonyoung x reader #hoshi x reader #hoshi fluff #soonyoung fluff #hoshi angst #soonyoung angst #soonyoung #svt x reader

1K notes · View notes

lelengerine · 8 days

Text

pairing. jaemin x reader

synopsis. what do you do when your feelings for your best friend start becoming not-so-platonic anymore?

genre. childhood best friends to lovers au, just jaemin realizing his feelings, pls imagine them living in a small town near the beach 🙂‍↕️, gender neutral reader, lmk if there's anything that was missed!

wc. 1.2k words

notes. inspired by holyland - wave to earth! such a good song and i highly suggest reading this while it plays as bgm >< this won the poll i had up yesterday so yay! likes and feedback are highly appreciated!

m.list

the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the sand as you and jaemin walked side by side, the rhythmic crash of waves the only sound filling the silence between you. the air was warm, a soft breeze tugging at your clothes, and your laughter echoed across the empty stretch of beach as you nudged him with your shoulder.

“come on, jaem, you’re still so slow,” you teased, jogging ahead a few steps, turning to face him with that playful grin he’d grown so fond of. you never changed, he thought. always light, always glowing, even when the rest of the world felt heavy.

jaemin’s steps slowed, and he watched as you spun around in the sand, your arms outstretched like a child, completely carefree. the sight of you bathed in the fading sunlight—hair tousled by the breeze, your face flushed from the sea air—did something to him. there was a pull, a weight pressing on his chest that he couldn’t shake. he stopped in his tracks, eyes tracing the curve of your smile, the way your laughter rang through the air, unburdened and effortless.

maybe i’ve been walking along with grief… can’t find the love within my heart.

how long had it been like this? how long had he been chasing after things that didn’t matter, only to realize that what he wanted most had been right beside him all along? the realization settled over him like a wave, gentle yet unrelenting, washing away the distractions he’d been clinging to.

he was in love with you.

the thought hit him with a clarity that left him breathless. all those moments—sharing late-night snacks, lying under the stars, trading inside jokes that only the two of you understood—he hadn’t realized what they truly meant until now. jaemin’s chest tightened, a quiet fear gnawing at him. what if he’d already lost his chance? what if you didn’t feel the same way?

“jaemin?” your voice broke through his thoughts, a soft question laced with concern. you’d stopped spinning, eyes wide as you tilted your head at him. “you okay?”

he blinked, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “yeah, i’m fine.” but even as he said it, the words felt heavy, like they didn’t belong to him.

you moved closer, the sand crunching under your feet. “you’re so weird today,” you murmured, a teasing lilt in your voice, but there was something more—something searching, like you knew there was more to his silence.

jaemin’s gaze drifted away from yours, back toward the horizon where the sun was sinking lower, its golden light reflecting off the water’s surface. he swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. how was he supposed to say it? how could he put into words everything that had been building inside him without unraveling the delicate balance of your friendship?

can you settle down my soul? and take me back to the days of old with you.

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “it’s just… i don’t know. being here makes me think about a lot of stuff.”

you raised a brow, folding your arms over your chest as you took a seat in the sand, motioning for him to join you. “stuff like what?”

jaemin hesitated, the weight of his confession hanging on the tip of his tongue. he dropped down beside you, his fingers absentmindedly drawing shapes in the sand. “stuff like… how things have changed. how i’ve changed.” his voice was quieter now, laced with uncertainty.

you didn’t say anything, just waited patiently, eyes locked on him, like you were giving him all the space he needed to figure out what he wanted to say. and maybe that’s why it was so hard—because you always knew him so well. you could see past his smiles, his jokes, even his silence.

i’m laying in the grass, a daydream in the sun… i’m back inside your peace.

he’d always thought that was enough—just being close to you, being your best friend, the person you turned to when the world felt too big or too lonely. but somewhere along the way, that had changed for him. being near you wasn’t enough anymore. he wanted more, craved it in a way that scared him.

“i’ve been thinking about us,” jaemin admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it louder would make the truth too real. “about what we mean to each other.”

you tilted your head, a soft smile playing on your lips. “we’re best friends, jaem. we’ve always been.”

he nodded, but his chest tightened. that was exactly it—best friends. the words felt too small, too limiting for what he felt. “i know. but… i think i’ve been lying to myself about what that means for a long time.”

your brow furrowed, confusion clouding your expression. “what do you mean?”

jaemin’s breath hitched, and he could feel his heart racing, the fear clawing at him again. but he couldn’t hide it anymore—not from you, not from himself. “i think i’ve been in love with you for a while now.”

the confession spilled out, unplanned and raw, leaving him feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way he’d never felt before. his eyes darted to yours, searching for any sign of how you might respond. would you laugh it off, tell him he was imagining things? or worse—would you pull away, leaving a gap between you that couldn’t be bridged again?

oh, holyland… watch your breeze take over me, just like we used to be.

but you didn’t laugh. you didn’t pull away. instead, your gaze softened, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. the sound of the ocean, the distant cries of seagulls, even the wind—everything fell silent as you stared at him, your lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out.

“jaemin…” you finally whispered, your voice tender, unsure. “why didn’t you ever tell me?”

he laughed weakly, the tension easing just a little as he shrugged. “because i was scared, i guess. scared of losing you.”

a silence hung between you, but it wasn’t heavy—it was contemplative, like both of you were trying to find the right words in a sea of emotions that had been unspoken for too long.

let me float in your arms… so come back to me.

then, you reached for him, your fingers brushing his. the simple touch sent warmth through his entire body, a quiet reassurance that you weren’t pulling away. not this time.

“i’ve been waiting,” you admitted, a small, almost bashful smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “waiting for you to say something. because i think… i’ve felt the same for a while too.”

his heart soared, a quiet joy settling into the spaces that had once been filled with doubt. he couldn’t help but smile—a real one this time—as he pulled you into his arms, holding you close as the waves lapped at the shore behind you. the weight he’d been carrying for so long seemed to dissolve, leaving only the warmth of your embrace and the quiet certainty that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, casting the world in shades of pink and gold, jaemin knew with unwavering clarity that whatever came next, he was ready. as long as it was with you.

#nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct angst #nct dream angst #jaemin #jaemin fluff #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles #nct x reader #nct dream x reader

218 notes · View notes

bvidzsoo · 2 months

Text

Love Me Like A Rockstar (12)

ー☆ Chapter 12: Shame On Me

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: cursing ー☆ Word count: 5.5k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hiii, my lovelies! Shorter chapter but you won't have to wait too long, I'll update next week again! I don't think there will be any more updates to my other stories this week because I'm going to visit my bestie on Thursday and I only come home on Sunday (can't wait to see you again Orsi *cries*). You know the drill, please listen to Shame On Me before or while reading, thank you!! So, uh, you all will hate me after this chapter, I'm sorry in advance, but you can go scream at me in the notes and reblogs! <3 However, I promise the angst won't last for too long :D Thank you all for reading and always leaving feedback, I appreciate it a lot! I hope you enjoy this chapter, don't hate me pls. divider

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng @deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @tmtxtf @hwashiningstar @thatfavouritesong @ateez-atiny380 @xciiiomwliah @vixensss @catchingskzzzs @tesssaurrr @ginger-mingi @mingisbbg

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

It was quite ominous how well I had slept last night, and despite feeling my eyes burn from staying up too late and not getting enough sleep, I felt well-rested. Perhaps the unusual warmth engulfing my body had something to do with the way my muscles seemed to become one with the mattress, and the comfortable weight around my waist also made me want to give in to the calling of another slumber. I had woken up a few times before, trying to find new comfortable positions as I could hear the birds chirp outside and the sweet cologne that clung to my clothes and the sheets tingled my nose in a way I had to suppress a sneeze. But the sun was high up in the sky already, the blinds open as I felt the warmth of the sunlight on my face. I released a content sigh as my muscles begged for a good stretch, making me groan when I felt a few vertebras pop, tension releasing between them. Gosh, I wish I could wake up feeling this refreshed every morning.

The covers were thick, and thus, the non-existent melody of the bed calling out to me to stay for longer won as I melted back against the pillow, licking my dry lips as I was mildly surprised that there was no impeding headache. I would usually feel hungover even if I drank only a little—hence why I preferred staying away from alcohol—but maybe that hot chocolate I had last night was some magic drink. There was a low groan next to me and I smiled for a second, feeling thick fingers tangle into the waistband of the sweatpants I was wearing, definitely not mine as they rode a little too low on my hips. The strings must’ve come undone in my sleep as I kept shifting around. Not really thinking as I was still under the blissful grip of a good night’s sleep, I sneaked my right arm underneath the covers and gently traced the warm skin of the arm pressing against my torso. There was another low hum and I smiled as I turned my head to the left, eyes protesting as I tried to peel them open. Perhaps that can wait until my brain is fully functioning.

“Good morning.” Mingi’s voice was husky and it covered my arms in goosebumps as I felt butterflies in my stomach, the heath of my cheeks unnatural once again.

“Morning.” I whispered and bit my bottom lip, feeling the bed shift again as Mingi’s hand now held my waist firmly, fingers rubbing circles into the skin where his borrowed t-shirt had ridden up. Feeling eyes on me, I opened one eye and chuckled as I saw Mingi’s puffy face, halfway hidden into his pillow as he lay on his stomach, red lips swollen and platinum blonde hair disheveled in every possible way. Mingi’s cheeks tinged pink and he grumbled something intangible as he hid his face into the pillow, feigning a tickle at my waist as I squirmed and pushed his hand off, heartbeat picking up as Mingi caught my hand before I could pull it away and interlaced our fingers. My eyes were painfully dry but I rubbed them with the heel of my left palm, rubbing my face afterwards as the haze of sleep slowly had started dissipating.

So, turns out all of this wasn’t a dream. I did go to Outlaw to watch Mingi perform, I did get drunk and got into a tiny argument with Mingi, and he did drive me home afterwards. And apparently, I did sleep over wearing his clothes and using his toiletries and we did—we did kiss. I gulped and licked my dry lips again, feeling the butterflies dissipate in my stomach as instead a lump formed in my throat. I released a shaky breath as I felt Mingi caress my knuckles underneath the covers, and then he turned his head to look at me. He looked—content. He looked happy. His face was serene and he looked like he has been waiting for this moment for ages. Something in my chest ached at the thought and I gulped, feeling the blissful morning daze dissipate completely and get replace by a slowly impeding dread. I released a shaky sigh as a heartbreakingly beautiful smile graced Mingi’s lips, mouth forming a boxy shape that showed all of his teeth—the protruding front ones that I grew to adore—his nose wrinkling and eyes creasing. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so good anymore, I felt like I wanted to cry.

Why was Mingi so perfect? Why was he so kind to me? Why did he treat me so well? Why was he so patient with me? Why did he stick by my side for so long? What was it about me that he liked? What did Mingi want from me?

I froze as suddenly Mingi pushed up onto his elbows and started leaning over me, that smile still present on his lips as he released my hand to caress my cheek. My hands trembled as I tried to hold his eye contact, but all of a sudden I felt sick. I felt dirty and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Everything smelled like Mingi, everything felt like Mingi—it was too much. Perhaps he saw the subtle shift in my expression as he stopped for a second, eyebrows slightly furrowing, but then his warm lips touched the corner of my mouth and it made my muscles tense up and send my mind off into an alarmed frenzy.

I couldn’t be here, I had to leave. No. What was I doing? How could I do this when I knew Mingi is Yunho’s best friend? How could I hide something like that from him? Why did I let him kiss me and why did I kiss him back? Why have I—why the hell have I started liking Mingi so much that having him next to me suddenly felt right and being away from him made me anxious, made it feel so wrong?

Unable to control myself anymore, I sprung up from the bed, trying to keep my breaths labored as Mingi sat up alarmed, eyebrows furrowing as he watched me scramble around his room looking for my clothes. I couldn’t remember where he had placed them last night—whether I had left them in bathroom or had brought them to the living room. I heard the sheets crinkle as no doubt Mingi was getting out of bed too, I could feel his piercing gaze follow my every move.

“You—” He hesitated for a second, “You don’t have to leave so early—I mean, it’s not that early, but I want to make us breakfast. I promise I’m not a bad cook.”

I bit my lower lip as my eyebrows furrowed, my body freezing as my heart clenched. I wanted that, I wanted to stay with Mingi and eat breakfast and laugh and just let go of everything and forget every single one of my worries, but I couldn’t. I felt so guilty, I couldn’t even turn around and face him. I had to leave and I had to get rid of him, it would be best for the both of us.

“I’m not hungry.” My voice was barely above a whisper, cold, and distant. I finally spotted my clothes sitting neatly folded on Mingi’s desk chair and I leaped towards them, my fingers curling tightly into them as I cradled them into my arms, somehow hoping that it would bring any sort of comfort. It didn’t because I could still feel Mingi’s eyes on me and hear the way his steps faltered.

“Oh, then…” He fell silent and I felt my hands’ tremors worsen, making me bite into my bottom lip to try and keep myself level-headed. It was hard, and I was failing at it, “We could grab some coffee and—”

“I’m going home, Mingi.” I snapped, cutting off his rambling because I was unable to listen to his warm and soothing voice anymore, now laced with obvious hurt and dejection. I wasn’t only hurting myself anymore, I was hurting him too. And I hated myself. He deserved better. Mingi deserves someone who cherishes him and makes him happy, not someone who brings his hopes up and then stomps on his heart like it means nothing. I didn’t want to do this, but I felt like I had no choice. I had dug my own grave by indulging into his little games—they weren’t games, Mingi has been genuine from the get go—and now here I was, suffering the consequences of my own actions.

“I—Y/N.” I froze as my hand reached for the handle to open the door, I couldn’t face him, “What we did—what happened last night, I—no, the kiss, we can’t just glaze over it, I can’t—I can’t do that anymore. Please, what are we?”

I squeezed my eyes shut at the sudden tears in them and inhaled a long breath, slowly twisting the handle of the door so that I could flee easier, “The kiss was—a mistake. We were both caught up in our feels and I—I didn’t mean to do that. I never wanted to kiss you. I don’t—it means nothing. We are nothing, Mingi.”

If the same words echoed in my mind but sounded a lot more masculine and venomous, puppylike eyes narrowed and glaring down at me, I gulped and repressed the memory, rushing out of Mingi’s room in a panic. I didn’t want to hear the way Mingi gasped nor the way he called out in confusion after me as I made it towards the shoe rack, finding my boots placed neatly next to his. It took everything I had in me to keep it together, to swallow the tears that wanted to escape my eyes, to keep my voice firm.

“What do you mean it meant nothing?” Mingi didn’t even sound angry, he sounded so utterly hurt, that a tear unintentionally trickled down my cheek, “It couldn’t have meant nothing, Y/N, we’ve been dancing around each other for too long for it to mean nothing. You’ve—I’ve kissed you before, not like this of course, but we did kiss and we’ve held hands and you—you can’t just fucking say it means nothing when it means everything to me!”

Fuck.

Perhaps it was good that he was finally showing any other reaction than disappointment and hurt, perhaps I pitied myself less if he was angry at me and shouting—I deserved it. I really did, every mean thing he’d hurl at me, I deserved to hear them because he was right. He was, he had always been. I’m a horrible awful being and I played with his feelings just like Yunho had played with mine. How could I hate Yunho so much when I was just like him?

“We’re both honest and blunt people, Mingi, there’s no reason to dance around this.” My voice sounded leveled, calm, almost as if it was mocking Mingi’s despair and I felt like complete shit, “Quite frankly put, I don’t want to see you again. This everything—whatever the hell we’ve been doing for the past three months, it was a shitshow. I don’t know what your purpose behind your actions was but I know mine and it has nothing to do with—whatever we’ve done last night. There’s no such thing as friendship between a girl and boy, it never works out, somebody always gets heartbroken and that’s exactly what’s happening right now. I think we both mislead each other, which led to this misunderstanding, so yes, it means nothing because I don’t want anything from you, but you clearly want something I cannot give you.”

The deafening silence felt like a slap to my face and it almost made me whirl around to apologize for my harsh words, to tell him that it was all a lie, that I liked him more than who I thought was my first love. I had always thought I loved Yunho with my whole being, that I gave him all of myself, but that wasn’t true. Yunho had never seen me at my lowest, Yunho never tried to fix the issues between us, he never reached out if he knew he did something wrong, he never even tried to pursue me—it was all me, all along. I was the one fighting for us and Yunho just went along with it because it was comfortable, because I was a stable point in his chaotic life, somebody he knew he could come back to. And I was treating Mingi as if he did the same thing to me, as if he was just another replica of Yunho—when he wasn’t. Mingi was so much more than Yunho would ever be, and I ruined everything in the span of five minutes.

I didn’t even bother lacing up my boots as I stepped into them, afraid to look back, but unable to stop myself when the silence just continued to stretch on. I didn’t expect to see Mingi’s eyes bloodshot, nor his bottom lip red and swollen from getting chewed on too much. Fuck, why did my heart ache more than when Yunho left me?!

“I never wanted to be your friend, doll.” The way his tone was emotionless yet his lips uttered the nickname, it made my lungs constrict as the lump got bigger and bigger in my throat, “But I knew you needed time, so I gave it to you. Perhaps—perhaps I shouldn’t have, maybe I should have been cleared with my intentions—”

“Mingi.” I snapped, eyebrows furrowing as we made eye contact. I couldn’t listen to him anymore; I couldn’t bear to hear him make up excuses for the sake of me. Why was he not screaming at me, why was he not hurting me? This is why he was too good for me, why I didn’t deserve him, “Delete my number.”

“You know your way out.” And I did know it. Without saying anything else, I unlocked the front door and ripped it open, slamming it shut behind me as I raced towards the stairs, hissing as my eyes got blurry and obscured my view of where I was stepping. But I had to get out of the building as fast as possible, scared that Mingi would race after me, that he’d try to reason with me one more time because it would work. It would work and I would give in. I would tell him the truth and then everything would be more painful. I was saving him from the betrayal he didn’t deserve, I was saving him from me, who never treated him right. I thought he was an asshole, an arrogant guy who yearned for attention and validation from every breathing female. But that wasn’t true, Mingi was a selfless and hard-working man who put others above himself, he wasn’t greedy and he wore his heart on his sleeve, ready to offer all the love his body contained without expecting anything in return. And I was a horrible human being because I took advantage of his kindness and goodness, because in the process of trying to get rid of him—I fell for him.

I was gasping for air by the time I stumbled out of the building, the wind harsh and cold as I scrambled to wear my jacket over Mingi’s thin t-shirt. It did nothing to shield me from the harsh weather and perhaps I deserved it, perhaps I deserved to be stared at by the passerby people with questioning or judgmental stares. I had no idea where I was, but thankfully finding my phone in my pocket, I was able to walk myself to a bus station and wait for a bus that would take me home. Mingi lived almost thirty minutes away from my place, but that was fine, I could keep it together for so long. I wouldn’t cry, I refused to cry, this was my own punishment. As I sat on the bench at the bus station, the heather above head lessening the chill that seemed to bite at my body, I closed my eyes and wallowed in the tumultuous emotions I felt.

This was far from how I wanted things to go, I thought I was better, that I could control myself and keep everything in check, but at last, I failed. I failed and now I hurt the guy I had fallen for. I was scared, I was afraid of getting left behind like it previously had happened, and so I wanted to protect myself. I struck before he could. I thought I would be protecting my heart and getting the upper hand, but then why was my heart aching and my stomach clenching so hard that it made me feel nauseous? Why do I always mess things up when they finally go right? Can’t I have something good for myself? Is it so hard to believe that not all guys are like Yunho? But Mingi is his best friend and it started getting easy to spot similarities between them the longer I hung out with Mingi. So could he really be much different from Yunho? I wouldn’t know, now, I would never find out.

I felt numb, both physically and emotionally, by the time I made it home. The house was empty and dark, rainclouds had gathered outside and I was thankful that I made it home before the downpour. It reminded me of Mingi, everything seemed to remind me of Mingi. I hated it, it made breathing harder as I peeled his clothes off myself and went into the shower, probably staying underneath the spray of the hot water for too long. My skin was all wrinkled by the time I got out and the rain came down heavily against the roof of the house, forcing me to dress up warmly and wear the hood of my hoodie as I was too tired and lazy to dry my hair. I was craving something hot to drink, but when my eyes fell on the hot chocolate in the cupboard I suddenly felt sick to my stomach and had to rush to the bathroom, heaving and heaving without throwing up anything. I felt like I was borderline dying, and I deserved it. I knew I did.

And when I was feeling my utmost worst, there was only one thing that could help. Drawing and painting. I stared at my sketchbook longingly, but decided to use a different one as that one was filled with sketches of Mingi’s eyes, and him performing on stage, him driving or him laughing with his boxy and gummy smile, his hands that were littered with rings, his peaceful face when he had fallen asleep once in the library while we were studying. But something that hasn’t happened before did happen now. No matter how much I stared at the blank paper, nothing came to me. My mind refused to conjure up any images, my hands refused to move. My grip on the pencil turned painful and I hissed as I pushed the sketchbook off my lap, throwing the pencil against the wall in frustration. I pulled my knees up to my chest as I listened to the heavy rain, staring at the window, watching as big drops rolled down quickly. The silence, the darkness, the numbness…it was beginning to be too much. I wished to see Mingi, I wished to talk to him, I wanted to fix this, but I couldn’t. I was an asshole and going back to him just hours later after being a dick and probably hurting him beyond forgiveness was an even bigger dick move. I just couldn’t do it, so, I closed my eyes and waited. For what, I didn’t know until my phone rang loudly, making me jump out of my skin.

I was stupid for feeling a flicker of hope that it was maybe him, but my heart settled when Seulgi’s smiling face greeted me once I grabbed my phone. I sighed and picked up, beyond grateful that she probably had a feeling that things weren’t going so well anymore. I could feel the small smile stretch onto my lips, the greeting on the tip of my tongue, but Seulgi beat me to it.

“What have you done.” I froze, heart falling into my stomach at the harsh tone of my best friend, eyebrows furrowing in worry. Seulgi never spoke like that to me—to anyone—she was a ray of sunshine and she never got angry, she was never disappointed, she never treated anyone roughly, “Y/N!”

I jumped at the way she yelled my name, gulping down nothing as my mouth had gone dry, “I—nothing. I did nothing—”

“You’re full of shit.” Seulgi snapped and I felt my lips tremble as her voice raised in anger, “How can you say you did nothing when Mingi has been at Wooyoung’s ever since noon and hasn’t stopped bawling his eyes out?! He’s not speaking, he’s not eating, he’s not even moving, Y/N. What did you do?”

“I—” I gulped, voice faint as I felt my eyes fill with tears, “I didn’t mean to, I—I told him it was nothing. That I—didn’t want to see him again. I just—I’m scared, Seulgi.”

“You’re the fucking worst, Y/N.” Seulgi’s tone didn’t soften, if anything, it got harsher and I heard someone in the background call out her name in a quiet warning, “How could you say that to Mingi out of all people?! Are you seriously joking right now?! Did you feel good playing around with him when he has made it so fucking clear that he was into you? That he likes you? That he wants to be with you? You aren’t even dense not to see things like this, Y/N, you straight up played with his feelings and then crushed his heart like it meant nothing.”

“I’m sorry.” I whispered, sniffing loudly as Seulgi scoffed. Hearing everything out loud and getting scolded by my best friend probably was the worst feeling ever. I knew I had fucked up colossally if she was taking Mingi’s side, rightfully so.

“I can’t believe you treated him like nothing,” A slight pause and then her voice dropped to a low whisper, “Like Yunho has treated you. You said the same thing to him, Y/N, aren’t you ashamed of yourself—”

“I fucking hate myself, Seulgi!” I exclaimed, frustrated and panicked and annoyed and wounded, “I didn’t mean for this to happen, but I’m scared! I can’t—what if he leaves me? What if he’s worse than Yunho’s ever been?!”

“We were teenagers back then.” Seulgi sighed and her voice softened the slightest, “And Yunho was an asshole from the very beginning, you just refused to see it. Mingi has always been genuine with you, fair, and kind. Yet you saw that and still threw him to the curb.”

“I’m sorry.” I felt a tear trickle down my cheek and I quickly wiped it away, refusing to cry. I didn’t deserve to cry.

“You should be saying that to Mingi, not me.” There was light shuffling in the background and then I heard different voices talking to Seulgi, “Seonghwa is here too now, I have to go. You better fix this even though I don’t know if you deserve his forgiveness at this point.”

“Don’t say that.” I whispered, but Seulgi hung up without saying goodbye, and suddenly I didn’t know what to do anymore. The phone fell from my hand as I stared with tear filled eyes at my mother’s guitar, flashes of Mingi’s excitement upon seeing it fresh in my mind, making my throat close up. I couldn’t breathe. Mingi wasn’t talking to anyone and it was because of me, I did that. I made him feel like that and I didn’t even know how to fix this anymore. Could I fix it? Or have I fucked up so badly that he’ll never forgive me? I knew for a fact that if I were Mingi, I wouldn’t forgive myself no matter how much he would’ve begged or tried making things right. Just as my head fell onto my knees and I squeezed my eyes shut, annoyed that the unshed tears kept persisting, there was a knock on my door. I hadn’t even heard my mother get home.

She gently pushed the door open and peered inside with a curious look on her face, looking excited as I turned my head to look at her. She grinned and suddenly stepped inside, holding up a small box in excitement. My eyebrows furrowed as I watched her grab a paper out of it, giving me a cheeky smile as she cleared her throat, “‘I hope every time you drink your hot chocolate out of this mug you’ll be reminded of me, doll – S.M.’”

I suppose that was all I needed for the cup to be full, to be tipped over the edge as the tears suddenly sprung free, ripping loud sobs from my throat as I grabbed at my hair, yanking on the strands harshly. My mother gasped in fright and I heard movement behind myself, then I felt hands untangle my fingers from my hair, placing them in my lap with one hand as with her other hand she cradled my head against her chest. She smelled like the sanitizers they used at the hospitals, infused with a little musk as it was my mother’s favorite scent, and I was suddenly so grateful for having her. I turned my body to hug her tightly, crying into her chest like I was a little girl once again. My mother sighed as I felt her pat my head and rub my back up and down, humming a song I knew all too well as we used to listen to it a lot while I was growing up. The weight of her chin felt comforting against the top of my head and I gripped her work clothes perhaps a little too tight, but I didn’t care. I have missed her embrace, I missed laughing with her and crying with her, I have missed talking to her. After Yunho left me, I became closed off. I didn’t let anyone know how I felt or what I was going through, and despite my mother being a nurse, she could only help me if I let her—and I didn’t. I was repulsed by any closeness and I needed to be on my own. Days turned into months and those into years, and it took me this long to realize I wasn’t doing as well as I thought I was.

“Mom,” I was still crying, but my sobs have stopped, “I messed up so bad.”

She hummed as her fingers tried to untangle the knots in my hair, “Does it have to do anything with whom the mug is from?”

I nodded wordlessly and she hummed again, tapping my thigh for me to pull back, “Is it that tall boy with sharp eyes, cute glasses and sweet smile, fluffy dark hair?”

“He’s blonde now.” I muttered as I sniffed loudly and disgustingly as I pulled back, letting my mom wipe my tears off my face.

“You hate blonde guys, though.” She muttered with her eyebrows furrowed as I sheepishly looked up into her eyes.

“I know.”

A beat of silence passed and then she started giggling, prompting me to giggle along, my heart still aching but the relief of being in her arms made me feel like I could breathe once again, “Well, that is no good then. I hope you aren’t crying because this S.M. boy went blonde—”

“Song Mingi, his name is Song Mingi.” I whispered as I chewed on my bottom lip, averting my eyes, “I can’t believe you already forgot his name.”

“Well, I’m particularly bad with names, starlight.” My mother chuckled and I felt a smile tug at my lips. She always found peculiar nicknames to call me by, “And he never came over for dinner, that was my trick to remember his name and well—get to know him better, I suppose.”

“He’s not coming over for dinner—like ever.” My tone was grim as I grumbled, picking at my cuticle as I looked down at my lap, avoiding the look of confusion on my mother’s face.

“So, things didn’t work out…” I hummed and sighed, pulling away completely from my mother’s embrace.

“I’m a fool.” I muttered as I pulled my knees up to my chest again, staring at my socked feet. My mother placed her hand on my shoulder and massaged it softly, “I hurt him and now he hates me. I said what happened between us meant nothing, but I was lying. I think I’m in love with him, mom.”

“Has he said that he hates you?” My mother raised her eyebrows in question and I shook my head, “Then he doesn’t hate you. Yes, you hurt him with your harsh words but if you really love him—what’s holding you back, my starlight? You’re a smart woman and you know how to fix your mistakes, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you. So don’t just sulk and wail and make him hurt for no reason—”

“He’s Yunho’s best friend.” I whispered, peeking up at my mother’s face, surprised to find a smile that looked both comforting and amused.

“And does he know that?”

“What?” I asked confused, making my mother chuckle, “Of course he knows he’s Yunho’s best friend.”

“That’s not what I asked, starlight.”

“No, he doesn’t know.” I muttered and grimaced as my mother shook her head at me, “I never found the right moment to tell him, actually, things were never supposed to get this far, mom.”

“I see,” My mother hummed and leaned closer, “You know, I’m speaking based on many years of experience, but this Mingi boy doesn’t seem like the type to hold grudges for too long or judge you for your past. Sure, it must feel weird knowing your current girlfriend has dated your best friend, but that was like ages ago—and you’re still making a big deal out of it—”

“Mom.” I groaned, giving her an unimpressed look, but she only giggled.

“You know, you didn’t take after me for being so dramatic.” She pursed her lips and suddenly pushed me over, making me fall to my side with a loud gasp, “It’s one of the few reasons your father didn’t stick around for long—he was too dramatic.”

“I thought he left us.” I muttered as I sat up straight, making my mother roll her eyes at me.

“He certainly did after I told him I didn’t need a junkie in my house while I was trying to raise my child—” She rolled her eyes then stood up, extending her hand out for me, “And then he thought I tried to baby trap him—huh, what an idiot. Who wants to baby trap a broke dude who’s doing nothing with his life while I was in school learning to be a nurse and girlbossing my way through life?!”

“Don’t ever again say girlbossing, mom.” I groaned embarrassed as I let her help me up.

“What?!” She chuckled, holding my hand gently, “It’s cool, everyone at the hospital says it—well, the younger generation. Anyways, we’re going to cook yummy dinner together, and then I’ll magically make some ice cream appear from our fridge and I have some really nice wine hiding in the cupboard, waiting for us to consume it while you tell me everything about this Song Mingi guy. We haven’t had a girl’s night in so long, I missed you, Y/N.”

“I missed you too, mom, but,” I frowned as I let her pull me after herself, “you do realize I’m suffering and am on the verge of having another break down, yet you still want me to talk about Mingi?”

“It’s called therapy, honey, even if I’m not a therapist.” She shrugged as we walked down the stairs, “Besides, I’ve got some bomb advice to give you to win this boy over. I can’t believe I managed to raise a strong and independent woman that’s emotionally constipated!”

“Oh, my God.” I muttered under my breath, wondering just how many of her coworkers were too young for her to be hanging around, and why on Earth were they teaching my mother cringey slang.

But she was right. I did need her advice, desperately so, and having a girl’s night while I can talk about Mingi without feeling embarrassed to admit I am into him sounded nice—especially now that I have successfully fucked everything up.

『You run away when you just can't face it

Hide in the dark, but you know you hate it』

❱❱ Next chapter

↳Perm. taglist: @orshii @jjoongstar @tinyelfperson @thestarskiller @zuuhaa

@aaa-sia @gong-fourz @a-tinycarat @sooberryworld @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad

@anastasiamin860 @yunhogrippers @vcutparis @tunaasan @blvckarabixnvoid

@yusalterego @arigakittyo @slowee00 @jaerisdiction @hey-syia

@vnessalau @oddracha @chatsgotmytongue @potatos-on-clouds @yunhowooyo

@watermelon2319 @yoongzsmile28 @klllerwaifu @apriecotte @hwasbbyg

@kyeos4ng @samiiy20 @woosanhobros @aswho1estuff @khjoongie98

@ateez-main-yapper @kang-ulzzang @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @ginger-mingi @redzie02

@unholywriters @autieofthevalley @roomsofangel @peachyy-joonie @baeksofty

@tunafishyfishylike

❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

186 notes · View notes