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sohnric · 1 year ago

Text

plot twist – k. sunwoo

pairing: kim sunwoo x gn! reader

genre: coworkers au, enemies to lovers au. fluff, a poor attempt at comedy. movie theatre! worker sunwoo and reader. bitch boy sunwoo. the reader has anger issues. owner's son! sunwoo being annoying about everything. winter themes, sunwoo is a little kid about stuff but mostly the snow.

wc: 21k

warnings: swearing, a heated make out session. y/n's inner monologue is just my own feelings about this man im sorry. i watched too much of the office when writing this can you tell. also i made sunwoo's sister underage for plot reasons deal with it.

working with kim sunwoo has so far been the worst experience of your whole entire life. just his existence alone is enough to make your day completely miserable– though, one would think that working with movies on the daily would prepare you for the biggest plot twist of your life.

a/n: this took me SO LONG to write woah. i have a humble playlist for this fic if any of yall wanna listen to it while you read <3 a huge thank you goes to my best friend @csenke for being my biggest motivator and hype man when it came to this fic. thank u for being my first ever beta reader hihi i couldn't have done this without you i am forever grateful ily. also im tagging @heemingyu because whe told me to

ho ho ho! this fic is a part of the secret santa event by @deoboyznet ! @kimsohn maya, i was your secret santa this year, i hope you enjoy the fic i prepared for you

TONIGHT'S PREMIERE – UGLY TRUTH (2009)

If anyone ever asked you about your job in the movie theater, you wouldn’t really know what to say.

You see, what may had seemed like your dream job when you were little, acquiring the fairytale vision after going to the cinema for the first time to see the Horton movie when you were just 7, quickly turned into reality one ordinary day during your junior year of university. And it wasn’t even that hard; you just dropped off your CV at the movie theater on the corner of the town's square when you saw the sign that said ‘looking for part-timers’ in a messy, giant handwriting on the glass door– and soon enough, you found yourself in the depths of the vintage-looking cinema, wearing the red uniform the owner gave you, selling movie tickets to teenagers and taking out the trash. It’s hard to enjoy the job when you’re on bathroom cleaning duty, though, and the fact that this is what you once imagined to be the most exciting job in the whole entire world turns twice as boring when you realize just how mundane it really is.

Still, you can’t bring yourself to quit, well, because you need the money.

Do you hate working in the cinema? No. Not really. Sure, it’s kind of boring– especially on the nights when you’re selling tickets at the front and nobody comes in for hours– but it’s not that difficult. It’s not physically or mentally demanding, so you’d say that you’re still on the better end when it comes to work environment. Your boss isn’t a dick and you get paid on time– so really, if anyone asked you if you hated it, your answer would be no.

Until one fateful day, of course.

You’re met with a person that’s going to efficiently change this opinion around in one swift bat of their eyelashes and a drag of their hand through their messy hair.

“So… you’re the new part-timer?” a tall boy asks you one day when you arrive at work. You’re already wearing your uniform when you come through the front door– since you don’t really feel like changing in the toilets that are not staff-exclusive here– and frankly, his voice startles you on your way in.

“Yeah,” you nod, furrowing your brows at the stranger. “And you are…?”

“Sunwoo,” the boy says, matter-of-factly, as if you’re supposed to know who exactly he is now that he’s introduced himself to you. The look on your face may show that you’re still clueless, and see, that’s something that must have played with the boy’s ego. “Kim Sunwoo,” he snickers, “the owner’s son..?”

Blinking a few times, trying to remember if Mr Kim’s ever told you about having a son– he hasn’t– you gasp like a fish on the dry, nodding. “Oh… Hello..?” you mumble, not really knowing what to do with the information.

“Hi,” he says, face stone cold and motionless. Something’s wrong, but you can’t quite put your finger on it….

Well, you’ll have to deal with that later. “My shift starts in 5 minutes, so I gotta find Mr- your dad, and ask him what’s on my to-do list today, but it was nice meeting you,” you try to force out a polite (maybe even warm) smile before you turn on your heel and march towards the staff room, where Mr Kim usually resigns unless he is helping you out with something at the front. See, on not busy days, working at the cinema requires only one person. On Fridays, though, it can get tough. That’s when the owner makes the popcorn while you both sell and scan the tickets at the same time– sometimes you wonder why he doesn’t hire another person to help out with the job.

“Wait– newbie–”

The nickname startles you, again, as you turn around and squint at him. You have a name– and although he has no way of knowing it (other than his father telling him, but seeming that you didn’t even know about his son, Mr Kim isn’t big on sharing information)– but still, you’d love to be called by it. “It’s Y/N, actually.”

“Oh, right…” he hums, “well, Y/N, dad’s not here tonight, so… I’m… kind of in charge,” he says, nodding as he gets the words out, trying to prove his point, “he had other things to take care of, so he sent me down instead,” he explains, watching as your face morphs into one of quick understatement.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he nods, sucking on his teeth.

Thick silence overtakes the atmosphere. You feel awkward and out of place.

“So…?” you hum, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

Because a guy your age ordering you around at work is already embarrassing enough for a university student just trying to pay for their groceries. You’re not gonna ask for the orders yourself. You still have some dignity.

“So… I could take the ticket booth and you can clean the screening room, since there are no movies on tonight?” he suggests, rocking on his heels. The boy seems a bit shaken with the new sense of responsibility, but you figure that even his undoubtful awkwardness still doesn't put you above his position.

You mentally sigh. Cleaning is your least favorite part of the job.

Still, you’re not gonna talk back to your boss’ son. You’d like to keep your job for a while longer. At least until you find something better.

“Alright,” you nod, turning on your heels once more and preparing to disappear into the depths of the cinema.

His voice stops you again, though, frustration flowing through your veins. “Don’t forget to mop the floors! Oh, and the bathroom could use a clean as well.”

“Alright,” you nod again, your back facing him.

“Also, you need to get the gum off the chairs, I know it’s kind of disgusting, but there’s a-”

“I know how to do my job, thank you,” you turn, smiling ironically over your shoulder.

You don’t know what it is about the man that makes you so, so incredibly irritated. Maybe it’s the fact that every bit of information coming out of his mouth sounds like he’s mansplaining everything to you. Maybe it’s the fact that you feel humiliated to be told what to do by a man that’s your age. Or maybe, it’s just the sheer fact that you hate cleaning– the one thing he just told you to do.

Still, you go and get the vacuum. You go and mop the floors, you go and take the gum off the chairs and scrape it into a bucket you keep in the pantry in the back. You go and clean the bathroom, even though it’s 10 minutes until the end of your shift (you only work 4 hours on Wednesdays) and you spent almost your whole day cleaning the whole screening room by yourself (the screening room that’s giant and Mr Kim helps you with on most days). You go and wipe the mirror in the bathroom, as well as the windows in the hall.

You say that your work in the cinema is not physically demanding, but by the time you’re out, your back hurts and your knees are all bruised up from getting on the ground so often.

What really sets you off, though, is the sight of the owner’s son sitting in the booth, both legs up on the table and chewing on something, his phone in his hands as he watches, what you presume from the language resonating from the speaker, a silly anime. At least someone had fun during their shift, you think as you leave without saying goodbye to him, slamming the door behind you with a loud bang on your way out.

Quite frankly, you didn’t know what set you off so bad this time. Maybe you just had a bad day. Maybe it could've been fixed with your next shared shift with the guy– you never know.

Little did you know that it was only going to get worse from now on, though.

TONIGHT'S PREMIERE – PALM SPRINGS (2020)

If you knew your boss’s son would play the role of your supervisor from time to time, you probably wouldn't have taken the job when it was offered to you.

Why?

The reason is quite simple– while you go to work to make money, Kim Sunwoo goes to work to make your whole life a living hell. Ranging from always giving you the more difficult task of the day to making unfunny jokes about your performance (he once asked if you ran a marathon after you mopped the whole hall, his grinning figure staring at you from inside of the ticket booth), you’re starting to think that Kim Sunwoo is mentally stuck with the brain of an 11-year old boy.

More so with his recent endeavors. You don’t really know what he’s trying to achieve with all of this, but you’re starting to despise going to work even when you know he’s not on the schedule– somehow, you’re afraid his silly pranks and jokes will follow you and surprise you even when he’s not present. Is this his way of asserting dominance? You really don’t know.

It all starts one day before a movie premiere when Sunwoo walks up to you and introduces you to a new concession item to sell in the snack booth. While you don’t really know why one would even think of new combinations to sell at a cinema, since everyone’s just gonna get popcorn or nachos, you don’t really question the idea much further– Sunwoo’s father owns this place, so he must know the best marketing strategies for his business. The reality only downs on you when you’re forced to promote the “Ultimate movie mix” to every customer– which wouldn’t even be that strange, if the mix didn’t include the weird combination of pickles and candy.

Running on two all nighters and half an energy drink, you didn’t realize the snack stand doesn’t even hold pickles. You were notified the day after by your boss, though, and that wasn’t your best experience.

The terror follows when Sunwoo’s father decides to run a Star Wars marathon one weekend. The flood of customers wouldn’t be as hard to manage when you run the snack stand, but it does get more difficult when your coworker running around with a lightsaber knocks over all the buckets of freshly-made popcorn you just put on the counter for the customers to take.

He doesn’t even say sorry. Or help clean the spilled popcorn up from the floor. Or help you make a new batch.

He just laughs.

Sunwoo just loves to laugh at you. Like that one time he made you wear a giant popcorn costume and stand in front of the cinema for the entirety of your 4 hour shift on Wednesday to promote the new movie airing on Friday. Hardly anyone took the fliers you were desperately trying to force into their hands and when you came back, you saw Sunwoo pointing his camera at you from the big glass window.

The next shift, his dad asked you how Sunwoo did when promoting the movie. You didn’t have the heart to tell him he forced you to do the dirty business instead.

Another time, Sunwoo informs you via text in the middle of your shift that you should clean the bathrooms. The fact itself already makes you furious, but you follow the order nonetheless– because, well, what else can you do? You’re used to cleaning the toilets, since it’s a part of your job. It’s just the fact that a guy your age told you to that’s making you rethink all your career decisions.

The trip to the bathrooms quickly turns traumatizing when you step inside of the tiled room and have the door behind you close with a loud bang, followed by the light switching off. Screeching, you jump and try to escape the room with fear making your heart run faster than Usain Bolt, however, you find the door seemingly locked– the sound of Sunwoo’s snarky laugh coming from the other side making you recognise what just happened and how he’s pulling another one of his childish pranks on you again.

When the door finally opens, you throw the toilet brush into his chest and scream out a “I’m going to fucking quit if I see your face one more time!”. You’re over all formalities.

That doesn’t mean you’re not scared every time you enter a room in the cinema when you work with Sunwoo, though. Your reaction was strengthened very abruptly, you see.

Sitting in the ticket booth, door ajar to monitor your surroundings, you plop your head on your hand and glare at Sunwoo, chewing on your gum. If anyone saw you right now, they’d think you were trying to kill him with your stare, but the opposite would actually be the truth tonight– you were quite enjoying the sight of him wiping the sweat off his forehead and scowling at the neverending flow of customers.

The beauty of having ticket booth duty on premiere night is that everyone bought the tickets beforehand already, meaning that it wasn’t usually busy. Scanning the tickets and running the snack booth were the more difficult parts of the shift, and since Mr Kim decided to show up to work today, Sunwoo was graced with the snack booth duty– something that warmed you up from the inside and made you want to kiss your boss’s feet in gratefulness.

There’s just something about seeing Kim Sunwoo in misery that makes your stomach turn and do cartwheels. You’re in love with his pathetic, tired face.

His eyes meet yours when he takes a moment to breathe– the look behind them is pleading, almost embarrassingly hopeless as he internally wishes he was in your place. You think this serves him right for the weeks of torture, and when he becomes you to come over with a motion of his hand, you just shrug at him and bat your eyelashes in faked innocence.

It’s not your fault he’s on duty tonight. What does he want with you?

His lips mouth “Come here,” which makes you battle a satisfied smile. Poor Kim Sunwoo is helpless in his task. The rush just won’t stop and he’s asked of more than he can handle. You kind of feel sadistic when you truly think about your sentiments, but you think you’re only valid for feeding on his misery.

“Help!” he mouths again, and now you truly can’t battle the laughter anymore. His hair is tousled and sticking to his forehead. His uniform is dirty. The tie around his neck is loose. The sight makes you utterly satisfied.

As he mouths “Please,” accompanied by clasped hands and a pleading look that would work on most women, you finally decide to stand up from the uncomfortable chair in the ticket booth and shake your head in disbelief. You can’t even count how many times Sunwoo left you alone in the rush before a premiere, but you can’t really risk his father finding out you didn’t come to rescue his beloved son, since however you might hate this job, you still can’t lose it in your current living conditions.

Sighing and closing the door to the ticket booth after you, your legs take you to the snack stand. Eyes of enthusiastic customers looking almost high on coca cola and the smell of salted popcorn are on you when you finally reach Sunwoo’s side.

“So I’m supposed to help you with your work whenever you ask, but when I’m left cleaning the whole theater completely alone, you can sit around and play on your phone?” you jab, annoyed with the turn of events. You find a spare apron and tie it around your waist, not really wanting to dirty your uniform as you pour caramel into some buckets of popcorn, hearing your companion chuckle next to you.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Okay, so I’ll be back in the ticket booth after serving this customer-”

“My dad’s watching.”

“This is blackmailing,” you snap back, smiling ironically at your coworker.

Sunwoo grins at you when he hands two cokes to the teenage girls behind the counter, shrugging to himself. “Not my problem.”

You learned long ago that fighting with Kim Sunwoo is a battle you can never win. Logically, you know you’re always right, but the boy always thinks he should have the last word in everything, which makes ending an argument with him pretty much impossible. That’s why you stopped trying to prove your truth. In your heart, you know how it is, and no amount of snarky remarks from the feisty boy will change your opinion.

You two work alongside each other in silence for some time. You’d even say it’s efficient– you make the popcorn and he makes the nachos, both of you taking turns behind the coca cola machine, and after a few minutes in his proximity when he’s not being the butt of the Earth, your brain starts to question why you two can’t operate like this on a daily basis.

Oh, how foolish of you.

You’re quickly brought back to reality when you walk over with the grande size bucket of popcorn towards the counter, meeting halfway with Kim Sunwoo’s chest.

It takes everything in you not to scream, but the restraint is deleted as soon as you feel something cold dripping down the front of your uniform, your white button-up suddenly sticking towards your chest in a big, dark-brown pool around your waist area. One sharp look into his eyes is everything it takes you two to come to a mutual understanding of what your next action is gonna be– Sunwoo quickly puts the now empty cup of coca cola onto the counter and puts a hand towards his head in self-disappointment.

“Kim Sunwoo, are you fucking incompetent?!” you scream out, the sensation of your cold shirt sticking to your already sweaty skin making you want to crawl out of yourself and scratch your coworker’s eyes out with the claws of the demon he wakes up in you.

“Look, you don’t have to-”

“I just washed this yesterday, there’s a line of people waiting for their snacks up to the fucking front door, you just ruined the popcorn I made so now I have to redo it, and you just decide to spill this onto me?!” you continue with your rampage, not really caring about the eyes of everyone on you, just letting out all your built-up frustration that creeps inside of you every time you see his face.

“As if I did this on purpose…” he grunts as he turns around in his place and reaches for napkins, not really putting much thought into his actions as he presses the material into the damp place sticking to your skin.

The image startles you– Kim Sunwoo almost in physical contact with you, a paper napkin soaking up some of the coca cola flooding the surface of your skin– and as you watch his slender palms run over your front, your eyes falling to the fluffy hair at the crown of his head, you feel heat rushing to your insides, making you jump away from him.

“Sorry-” he mumbles out as you forcefully pry the napkin out of his hand, gritting your teeth.

“I’m starting to think you’re making me do everything just because you’re useless,” you spit at him.

Rolling his eyes, Sunwoo pokes his cheek with the tip of his tongue. “It was an accident.”

“Don’t care,” you grunt, walking away from the booth, “I’m going to change in the back, you better not burn the place down with the popcorn machine before I’m back,” you comment, sending him a sharp glare over your shoulder.

All that accompanies you to the staff room is Sunwoo’s loud sigh and a sugary-sweet tone he offers to one of the customers as he throws the ruined popcorn into the trash. “I’ll be right with you, miss!”

If anyone asked you if you hated your job now, you think you’d say yes.

Who are you kidding?

You’d definitely say yes.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – THE HATING GAME (2021)

You were quite pleased on your way to work today. It’s Wednesday, which usually means it’s not as busy. The weather is cloudy– good enough to not make you gloomy, but not quite sunny enough to make you wish you were outside instead of being stuck in the cinema the whole afternoon– and you packed a home-made sandwich with you to eat on your lunch break. Which is whenever, since you’re on ticket booth duty today– another great news.

The best thing about today, though? Kim Sunwoo isn’t working today.

That alone is good enough to make your whole entire day better. The sun shines brighter, your breathing is lighter, the air is clearer and the birds chirp louder when you know you don’t have to interact with the hellspawn that day. It’s like his absence alone is enough to heal all your wounds and delete all your worries– who cares about the fact that you’re barely getting through your Biology class when you know you won’t have to stare at Sunwoo’s face as you contemplate dropping out of university during your shift?

Maybe you should thank him, in a way.

And with all of this knowledge, a smile plastered on your face as you’re prepared to sit through your 5-hour shift in silence with an occasional swipe through your social media and a well deserved chicken-mayo sandwich towards the end of your shift, it’s quite natural for your smile to freeze and your spirit fall the moment you see the mop of dark brown hair walk through the doors of the cinema.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” you mourn as he walks by, only realizing you said the sentence out loud when the boy looks at you with a scowled face, a scoff escaping his throat.

“Didn’t know we were speaking to each other in third person now,” he says as he stops in his tracks and plops his head into the door to your booth, infesting your calm abode with his presence.

Deep breaths. In and out, Y/N. In and out…

“Hello to you too, Y/N,” he smiles, irony dripping off his tongue, “having a good day so far?”

“It was better without you here, thank you,” you snap back, rolling your eyes at him when his eyes flash with something akin to a victory– it seems you both take joy in making the other one absolutely miserable with your presence.

“Sweet,” he nods on his way out, grinning to himself. “Well, I won’t be long, so don’t let your mood drop too much.”

With that, he’s out of the ticket booth. All that’s left behind him is the smell of his cologne– the tingle of lemon and bergamot filling your nostrils in a way that makes the fine hair at the back of your neck stand up all alert– and silence. It makes you wonder about his whereabouts– you can never know… what if he’s setting up a trap for you somewhere? You wouldn’t be half surprised. You make a mental note to yourself to be twice as cautious when going to the bathroom next time. Just to make sure.

Before you’re able to think of any possible situations that Sunwoo could get himself caught in (while completely ignoring the fact that his father is somewhere in his office in the back– for all you know, he might just need to talk to your boss, like a son does sometimes), the woodworm of your thoughts appears in your view again, two rolled-up tubes under his shoulder as he walks over to the front door.

“Wait! What are those?” you ask, eyes zeroing on the very clear posters in his grip. The shiny white back of the big posters you have to sometimes put up in the front of the cinema are unmistakable to anything else.

“Posters,” Sunwoo replies, calling over his shoulder, already halfway out of the building.

“I know what those are–”

“Then why are you asking?” he huffs, shaking his head in disbelief as he takes a few steps towards the ticket booth, eyes meeting yours. His figure fills the door frame as he towers over you, still sitting on the chair. His eyes have a different kind of twinkle in them– you think, no, you know it’s mischief– making the blood in your veins boil at deadly temperatures.

“Because– well,” you huff, already frustrated, “we’re not allowed to take these,” you say, pointing to the two posters under his shoulder like a kid in the candy store. You try to ignore just how embarrassing you must look right in this moment.

“Oh,” he pouts, taking the posters from below his shoulder, unraveling one of them and resting the other one against the doorframe, “so you’re telling me… I can’t take those two amazingly big, shiny, cool posters of the latest Spiderman movie home for me and my friend Juyeon?”

You’re only half-aware of the fact that he’s teasing you right now, sighing at his innocent face. “No, Sunwoo. You can’t.”

“Hm,” he hums, looking at the poster from top to the bottom, seemingly sad about the news, “that’s terrible. Says who?”

“Your… your father, Sunwoo. He told me when I asked him the other day if I could take–”

“You wanted to take posters home from the cinema?” he gasps, looking at you with big eyes. He looks stupid. So, terribly stupid. Dumb. No thought behind his eyes. You want to smash his head against a concrete wall.

…He’s teasing you. It finally dawns on you.

Now, you want to smash your head against a concrete wall.

Still, you admit defeat with a solemn tone in your voice. “Well, I really wanted the Enola Holmes poster to put up in my bedroom…” you mumble.

“And my dad said no?” he asks, eyebrows quirking up towards his hairline.

“Yes, Sunwoo. Your father said it’s prohibited to take posters home from the cinema, that’s exactly why I’m stopping you right now,” you say, tone filled with annoyance. You know he’s enjoying your face full of misery. But still, if there’s one thing you’re good at, it’s following the rules and orders– if Mr Kim says you can’t take the posters home, you’ll go in the back and tear them into pieces before throwing them into the bin like you’re told to.

If things were going your way, you’d advise Sunwoo to do the same.

A day with Kim Sunwoo in it never goes your way, though. You should’ve been prepared.

“So I can’t take those posters home because my dad said no?” he clarifies, looking like a dummy. Like one of those kids that ask the most obvious questions during exams. Like one of those kids you want to sucker punch in the face.

“Sunwoo–”

“Well, Y/N-ie,” he purrs, the nickname making your hands curl up in fists, “that’s too bad… because I am the owner’s son, so… the rules don’t really apply to me, you see.”

And with that, he sends another sickeningly sweet smile your way before he turns on his heel and marches towards the front door again– not responding to any of your annoyed, infuriated calls of his name. He doesn’t stop at your warnings. He doesn’t care.

And just like that, he disappears just as fast as he appeared. The interaction didn’t last more than 10 minutes, but you consider your whole day ruined.

Fucking Sunwoo and his fucking privileges. And his fucking annoying face.

It’s not even that important. It’s just two posters that would get thrown out to the dumpster in the back at the end of your shift anyway. You don’t even care about those posters in particular– you just with equal rules applied to all workers in the workplace.

It’s not like Spiderman Homecoming is one of your favorite movies… not at all.

You could’ve had that poster. You deserved that poster. You sold tickets for it and served the snack booth when it premiered– not Kim Sunwoo and whatever his friend’s name was.

You kick the wall with your sneaker. It leaves a dirty mark.

You should’ve known the day felt too good to be true.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING (1993)

There’s a new thing Mr Kim is trying to lure more customers into the cinema. He calls it ‘Rewind Thursdays’, where he picks a movie from the past and airs it in the theater again to bring out nostalgia in the whole town. You think it’s a good idea– you remember when the Harry Potter movies had a rerun back when you were little, ecstatic that you finally got to see them in the cinema because you missed out on the experience when they were coming out for the first time. You went even though you saw them all before, and you had a blast. So in your books, this was the best thing that could happen to the little, old movie theater on the corner of the town’s square.

You were overbeared with joy when Mr Kim went up to you during one of your slow Wednesday shifts in the ticket booth with a paper and a pen, requesting you to write down your favorite movies. He informed you that he’d prefer it if they were older, to, quote, really get the nostalgia going, and you were happy to have some say in the list of movies to play for multiple reasons. One, because it meant he valued your opinion, and two, you don’t usually work on Thursdays, so if your favorite movie is on that day, you can go and relax in the cinema while watching it.

This all happened a few weeks ago. You gave the list back to your boss at the end of your shift, smiling brightly just thinking about it, and he told you he’ll get through it and see what he can incorporate.

The plan gets to you on one uneventful Wednesday. You are stuck in the ticket booth again. Today is one of the Wednesdays where Sunwoo is in charge, because Mr Kim is out of town. You hate those days most of them all, but recently, he’s been giving you your freedom and letting you work in the ticket booth instead of cleaning the already clean cinema, saying he has stuff to do in the back. You suspect he just sits around in his father’s office with his legs on the table, chewing on his obnoxious strawberry mints. The image makes you furious only the tiniest bit, because the fact that he’s out of your sight and isn’t ordering you around is enough to calm your nerves. It could always be worse, you remind yourself. It could always be worse.

“I have the schedule of ‘Rerun Thursdays’ all done,” Sunwoo says as he walks up to the ticket booth close to the end of your shift. His eyes look a little tired when he holds up a thick card to you, the design of the poster making your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Did he do that?

“It’s ‘Rewind Thursdays’, actually,” you note, pointing towards the very obvious mistake on the top of the poster.

“Oh fuck– you know what, not anymore,” he scowls, taking the poster back from you and pointing glares at the title he mistyped, “I spent 3 hours on this, I’m not remaking it.”

“It looks like a kindergartener did it,” you note, eyes scanning the bubbly font and the orange-yellow combination used throughout the whole design when he offers the paper back to you. It looks like a Winnie the Pooh convention is taking place instead of an event full of nostalgic movies, and you would tell him that, but he beats you to it with a tired remark.

“Well, if my father wanted this to look professional, he should’ve hired someone to do it,” he mutters, obviously hurt by your harsh words, “I used Canva. I don’t know how Photoshop works and my dad can barely operate the computer, so this is what we’re going with, okay?” he says as he explains, big eyes suddenly bearing into yours. “Unless you wanna redo it yourself…?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then this is the final poster,” he says, “I’m gonna hang those outside when we close,” he notes, watching you scan the movie titles. The event will take place in 4 weeks from the middle of November to the middle of December (right in time for Christmas movies to air, since you’re certain Mr Kim has another Christmas-themed business tactic up his sleeve).

“Did any of your movies make it?” Sunwoo asks, surprisingly friendly. You can’t remember a single casual conversation with the male– all you two do it either give each other the silent treatment or scream at each other (more like you scream at him, but he always deserves it…), so you’re kind of surprised at the change. Not pleasantly surprised. Just surprised.

Eyes falling to the second movie on the list, you feel yourself nodding as you smile. It’s like a dream come true– you can finally see your favorite movie in the cinema for the first time. You don’t know who to thank for this miracle, but something in your insides feels very grateful.

“Yeah,” you say, trying to seem unaffected. You’d rather kill yourself than to show any signs of emotion in front of Kim Sunwoo. All he deserves to see is your stone cold face.

“Which one?” he asks, seemingly interested.

“National treasure,” you hum, pointing to the movie on the list, having Sunwoo nod to himself. You expect him to say something to you– perhaps engage in a conversation like a normal person would– but suddenly, he gasps and takes out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket, offering it to you and playing the role of the manager again.

“Oh, by the way,” he starts, watching as you unfold the paper, “I know we don’t usually work on Thursdays, but since my dad decided to do all of this, we kinda have to, since he wouldn’t be able to handle the premieres on his own, so… Here's your schedule for the next 4 weeks,” he says, clasping his hands together in front of him.

It takes everything in you to not correct the male and tell him that those are technically not premieres, but when your eyes land on the little Excel table Sunwoo printed out for you, the feeling is overpowered with one of deep disappointment.

“I work the second week?” you ask, as if the question might magically change the schedule.

“I mean, I think you can read…” Sunwoo hums, shrugging to himself.

A heartbeat passes by of you staring at the schedule, a pit opening in your stomach at the realization. You only work 2 Thursdays out of 4, noticing the fact that you rotate with Sunwoo (with him somehow taking the first week, much to your surprise), but for some reason, one of those days had to be the day when National treasure is on.

And sure, you might think this is good– you can just watch the movie while you work!

Wrong.

Working means either staying in the ticket booth the whole time in case a customer comes, working the snack booth the whole time in case a customer comes, or cleaning the bathrooms. Working means also standing in front of the screening room sometimes, making sure no one is going in without a ticket in the middle of the movie.

There is no time for you to watch National treasure if you’re working.

Sighing, you decide to do something you always prohibited yourself from doing– you ask Kim Sunwoo for a favor. “Listen… my favorite movie is airing the week I work, so I was… wondering if we could exchange shifts? So I could go and watch it?” you ask, looking at your coworker with what you presume are pleading eyes. You hope it works on the boy– he looks like the type to fold under a tender gaze.

“So you want to get out of work only to still come?” Sunwoo clarifies, snickering.

“Pretty much, yeah,” you nod, tapping your fingers on the table.

“Well, the schedule is set,” Sunwoo shrugs, “I can’t do anything about it.”

Eyes sending darts to the very middle of Kim Sunwoo’s forehead, you take a few calming breaths before you speak up again. You don’t want to blow up on him when you’re asking him for a favor– you don’t think this approach would help you much in the situation.

“Why?”

“Because,” he shrugs.

“Because?” you repeat. “That’s the reason?” you say, a weak laugh dragging out of your throat.

“Pretty much, yeah,” he mirrors your previous response, the blood in your veins already growing hot from the confrontation.

“Sunwoo, you– come on,” you say, “just this once, please? I’ll take the first week. We can just switch, what’s the difference?”

Sunwoo tongues the inside of his cheek, eyes pointing towards the paper. “Schedule is schedule, Y/N. You have to follow it,” he says, an innocent look glazing his big fuckass boba eyes. Oh how you despise that look. It’s the look that tells you he finds this all so, so amusing, but won’t laugh in your face in hopes of teasing you some more.

“Oh, amazing,” you say, throwing the schedule to the table, “I knew I could always count on you ruining my day, Kim Sunwoo. And I bet you did the schedule as well! You knew it was my favorite movie, so you made me work that week. Very nice of you, you dumbass. Thank you very much,” you grunt, annoyance flowing through your brain and making you truly merciless– you have no proof of Sunwoo even knowing which movie of yours made it in, or proof of him making the schedule– you don’t care, though. All you want at this moment is to claw his eyes out and pop them in between your fingers to ease the anger on your insides.

You can’t do that, though, so a screaming match will have to do the job.

“Stop being so dramatic,” he scoffs, eyebrows furrowing. “I didn’t even know which one your favorite movie was, so how could I do this on purpose? Plus, I didn’t even make the schedule, my dad did–”

“As if I would believe that,” you roll your eyes, huffing. “You’re all owner’s son privileges this, owner’s son privileges that, but when I ask you for one thing, one! Single! Fucking! Thing! You can’t do it,” you bite, words dripping in spite.

“Look, I really can’t-”

“You can’t do this one thing for me?” you cut him off, the question sounding like an ultimatum.

“No,” he shakes his head, seemingly unaffected by the conversation.

“Because…?” you demand a valid reason.

“Because I just can’t,” he shrugs, casual and cool.

The world stills for a moment. You calculate your next move. Blood rushes in your ears, you see red. Your eyes fall on the clock– it’s 4 minutes after your shift. That’s it.

You take your coat draped over the chair, stand up from the chair and dash towards the front door. You can’t stand being around this man any longer– all he does is bring misery into your otherwise, already boring life.

Speedwalking out of the place, you yell out a harsh “Go fuck yourself!” over your shoulder, leaving Sunwoo to close the cinema by himself. You don’t even change out of your uniform before you go– your head is too clouded with anger to remember to do so. Cursing out your coworker isn’t the best thing you could do in this situation, more so when he’s the owner’s son, but suddenly, you don’t really care about losing your job at the cinema anymore.

Maybe you should quit yourself, actually.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS (2003)

In your books, there aren’t many things worse than working three days in a row. You can only think of so many even when you try hard enough: like going to school in your pajamas, getting sick on the day of an important event, ripping your pants on the metro, standing outside of the cinema in a popcorn costume for 4 hours…

Yeah. Not too many.

So naturally, on the third day of your work week, putting one sweetened coffee into your stomach after another, barely keeping your head up from the lack of sleep you’re getting in between classes, work, and writing your essays until 3 in the morning, you beg god for a calm shift. It’s Wednesday, the first week of Mr Kim’s ‘Rewind Thursdays’ event, and it just so happened that you were set to work the first half of the week while Sunwoo got the other half.

The only thing keeping you going is the fact that you and Sunwoo will now basically not see each other’s face for the next four weeks– with the exception of Fridays and Saturdays, the premiere days. You’re getting a lot of shifts this month, but hey… Christmas is coming. At least you’ll have plenty of money to buy gifts for everyone this year. (Or not. You’re very underpaid.)

Entertaining yourself by watching the world outside of your window and mentally betting on the race of raindrops falling down the glass surface– because your phone battery almost ran out during class this morning and you forgot to bring your charger with you– you hope you don’t fall asleep right in this moment. Your boss is somewhere inside and if he oh just happens to check up on you (which he never normally does, but you can never be too sure), you’re certain you’d lose your job after taking a nap in the ticket booth. Some things just can’t be accepted.

Cat fights with his son? Perfectly acceptable. Sleeping on the clock? Not so much…

Eyes drooping when the third raindrop race doesn’t go the way you bet on in your head, you figure you can just rest for a second or two… Eyelids shielding your irises from the orange hues of the lights inside, your brain already turning off and preparing a happy dream for you, you think that taking a nap is not such a bad idea right now…

Wrong.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” the noise of a thunder– actually, no, that was just someone’s voice– wakes you up and makes you jump in your chair, your knee hitting the bottom of the table making you hiss in sharp pain.

“Fuck, man–”

“Didn’t know taking a nap was in the job description,” Sunwoo grins at you through the glass window of the booth. His eyes twinkle in amusement as you drag your hand through your hair, trying to smoothe it down after tousling it in your weird sleeping position.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” you mutter, not even meeting his eye.

“Oh?”

“Yeah… just had… my eyes closed…” you hum, scratching the back of your neck. Clearing your throat, you look back up at him with an disinterested look on your face. “Anyways, what do you want? You’re off today.”

Scanning his figure, fully taking in his appearance– the fabric of his dark gray hoodie a little stained with raindrops (you bet he ran from his car into the building without an umbrella. He seems like the type to be embarrassed about umbrellas.), the fabric of the garment enveloping his head and shading his face a little from the ugly yellow lights. His face is a little flushed– you presume it’s from the running– and his hair is falling into his face. You can barely see his eyes behind the curtain of chocolate locks– he really needs a trim.

“Damn, didn’t know you hated me so much that you can’t stand seeing me on my off days,” he jokes, leaning on the counter as if to stick his face as close as he can into yours. Thank god for the glass shielding you two– you think you’d give him a fist to the nose if you ever felt his breathing on your skin.

“I do,” you agree, impatiently drumming your fingers on the top of the table, “so tell me what you want so you can disappear again,” you say.

“I just went to check up on whether you were sleeping or not so I can tell my dad to fire you–”

“Kim Sunwoo–”

He puts his arms up defensively, eyebrows raising at your threatening tone. “Okay, not really. I don’t actually care that much. Besides, you promised to quit yourself anyway, so,” he explains, shrugging to himself, “believe it or not, I’m here to buy tickets for a movie.”

You shoot him a stare, the look in your eyes dead, stone cold as you ponder on his words. It’s cold outside, it’s raining, and Kim Sunwoo just happens to decide to buy tickets for a movie today. In a cinema that he works at. In a cinema that he works at tomorrow.

“You work tomorrow…?” you mirror your inner monologue, kind of confused at the turn of events.

“You know my schedule? I’m flattered–”

The irritation is slowly creeping into your bones again. Actually, it has been since he arrived, but the more he talks, the more agitating the whole encounter feels. Maybe you should tape his mouth shut the next time you see him– you bet the day would be so much better if you don’t have to listen to him talk.

“Why don’t you just buy the tickets tomorrow when you work? Didn’t have to walk here in the rain,” you explain, sighing to prove just how annoyed you are with his presence.

“Because I kinda need them today,” he says, clarifying to you with the tone you use when you explain mundane things to a child.

You don’t know what he did in his past life to get the ability to annoy you each and every time you meet him, but you’d like some of it to get back at him in your next life. Why you’re even thinking of past lives and the possibility of meeting Kim Sunwoo in your next one, you’re not really certain, but if it helps you to not smash the glass separating you two, you guess you can get behind the thought process.

“Okay,” you nod, painfully calm for the amount of screaming you’ve been doing internally, “what movie?” you ask, turning your body to the computer on your right and breaking eye contact with him. If he’s a customer, you’re going to treat him like one– no small talk and no arguments. You won’t ruin your day even more over a man that doesn’t know what chapstick is. (You don’t stare at his lips, just for the record. It’s just painfully obvious when he talks. Sometimes you want to reach over and pluck away the dead skin with your fingers– you won’t, though. That would be weird.)

Sunwoo straightens his back as he fishes for his wallet in the front pocket of his jeans. “National Treasure,” he smiles, making you break into cold sweat, “two tickets, please.”

Like a scene in a horror movie, your head turns without moving the rest of your body, eyes twitching when you see him standing at the other side of the booth, calm and collected. Suddenly, the scene makes sense– he bought the tickets to see your favorite movie on the day of your shift. Of course. He just has to rub it in your face.

Not only are you working that day. You will also most likely serve popcorn to him as he goes inside with whoever he is buying the second ticket for. And you will try not to trip him on his way inside the screening room.

It was a smart move for him to not go inside the ticket booth with you, even though he has all the right to. You bet he knows you’d claw his eyes out if you had the chance.

“You have to be kidding me.”

“What? I can’t buy tickets for a movie?” he asks, innocence dripping off his tongue.

Breathing deeply– while trying to contain the demon that’s begging to crawl out of your insides and tear him into 25 different pieces– you smile ironically at the male, gulping before you speak. “That would be 12 dollars, please,” you say, your customer service voice turning kind of eerie.

Not even letting the male choose his seats– he lost the privilege when he decided to come and buy the tickets for your favorite movie– you print out two tickets with the worst possible view (the ones in the first row, far right. If Sunwoo loses his neck because he has to look up at the screen for the entirety of the movie, well, who are you to hate that) and offer them to your coworker.

Like a mind game, the male slips them into his pocket without even looking at them, not breaking eye contact with you sitting behind the booth.

“Have a nice day,” he says as he takes two steps back before fully turning and escaping through the front door, figure dashing towards the old Prius parked in front of the building.

Bawling your hands into fists, you try the breathing exercises you found the other week. Calm your body and your mind, the title said. You knew you’d need those when you saved the post into one of your boards on Pinterest.

Still, you can’t help yourself. You simply cannot. You let it out– it’s not healthy to keep negativity inside.

He can’t hear you, but you still mutter a spiteful “I hope you choke,” under your breath as you settle back into the uncomfortable surface of the chair.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – YOU’VE GOT MAIL (1998)

Remember the time you said you didn’t really mind having more shifts in November, because it meant a bigger paycheck? Yeah… that was true. For a few days.

Until you got a phone call one day from none other than Kim Sunwoo– whose number you didn’t even want to save into your contacts, but after his insisting that it’s for work purposes, did so under the name ‘dumpster raccoon’– telling you that you have to get to work immediately, that his dad said so, and that it’s an emergency.

Do you believe him? No. Absolutely not.

His tone of voice was too calm to be in an emergency. If his dad wanted you to come to work today, he could’ve called you himself instead of making his son do it. And also, you really don’t know what’s so important to take care of on a Wednesday, since it’s the slow day of the week, but still– you angrily took off the facemask from your face before the timer even went off, shut your laptop with a half-watched episode of The office in your Netflix window, changed out of your comfy clothes and marched towards the cinema.

Because you never know. He might be saying the truth, after all. And if that was the case, you didn’t want to be caught disobeying your boss.

You get to the old movie theater on the corner of the town center at 4 in the afternoon. The sky is already getting dark and you feel the coldness of November seeping into your bones, and so you waste no time in getting inside and chasing the heat of the vintage-looking interior. Your boots make a thudding sound as you walk across the hall, seeing Sunwoo sitting in the ticket booth in his usual habitat: with his phone in his hands and his feet up on the table, chewing on his favorite strawberry mints. Now this sight screams emergency if you’ve ever seen one.

“What was so important for you to call me to work and then chill in the ticket booth all afternoon?” you ask, spite slipping off your tongue with every word you speak.

Sunwoo looks up at you from under his eyelashes, hair still slightly shielding his eyes. He doesn’t even have his uniform on– there’s a gray hoodie enveloping his torso (you swear he lives in this garment. You wonder if he even washes it sometimes) and black jeans hanging off his hips– and the more you stare at him, the more you feel like punching him in the face.

“Oh,” he hums, stretching out his limbs from the hours of sitting on the chair unmoving, “dad said to tell you to clean the screening room. Since it’s Thursday tomorrow, and all.”

The look on his face is innocent. He looks like he just told you the most casual piece of information– and truth be told, he kind of did. The whole thing is just not making any sense right now.

“I should clean the screening room today? You’re on the clock, though, why don’t you do it?” you ask, frustration clearly written all over your face. You were looking forward to having a self-care day today, so you can only imagine how tired of his endeavors you are right in this moment.

“Yeah, but I am on ticket booth duty, so I can’t,” he shrugs, frowning a little to prove his nonexistent point.

“It’s Wednesday. It’s not busy. You know you can do both.”

“Look, it’s not me, it’s my dad–”

“Is it? Is it, Sunwoo?” you huff, arms flying into the air. “Or are you just using me to do the work you don’t feel like doing? Because it really does seem like that right now,” you bite, running your hand through your hair in exasperation.

“Do you want me to call him?” Sunwoo asks, tone of voice suddenly threatening.

A heartbeat passes. You continue to have a staring contest with him. The fury inside of you rages like a storm. Still, you nod to the feeling of authority coming from your actual boss, and so you wordlessly turn on your heel and march towards the screening room, ready to clean the place in the least amount of time so you can go home and back to your selfcare endeavors. (You’re adding printing out Sunwoo’s face and throwing darts at it to the list of activities. You think you really need that right now.)

The screening room is dark when you come inside, and as you reach towards the lightswitch, you almost fear something jumping at you. See, the traumatic response from being locked up in the toilet from your coworker is still very present in your bones. When you stop working here, you’re going to ask for financial compensation for all the damage this boy did on your mental health.

You walk down the aisle of seats and try to inspect the damage. No movies air on Wednesday and there was only one kids movie going on Tuesday, so you can either expect it to be almost clean, or full of snacks that fell off the hands of grabby children during the cartoon. The more you inspect the place, though, the more it seems like… somebody already cleaned it before?

The floor is clean. The laminated surface under the seats has no smudge of dirt on it, like someone already mopped the place. And when you think back, the bins were empty as well.

The screening room was definitely cleaned before.

Which means that Sunwoo brought you here for absolutely nothing.

Suddenly, the lights go out. The whole room falls into darkness, and the anger inside of your veins very quickly mixes with panic as you try to climb up the stairs on the side of the screening room and escape. Your throat gets dry as you yell for your coworker, not really caring if your next outburst is going to get you fired or not.

“Kim Fucking Sunwoo, why the fuck did you call me to clean an already cleaned screening room?!” you yell, not really knowing if he hears you or not. Doesn’t matter– it feels cathartic to do so anyway.

Your feet stumble on the awkwardly-long stairs, your figure almost falling to the ground. Managing to hold yourself up and steady your body before your head hits the sharp corner of one of the stairs and makes you die, you continue on with your small tangent. “You really think this is funny? You’re having fun pranking me all the time? I hate your guts, Kim Sunwoo, and I hope you burn in hell!”

A bright light suddenly illuminates the screening room, coming from somewhere behind you. When you look over your shoulder, the screen is white for a few moments before the opening credits of a Jerry Buckheimer film flash on the big surface, halting you in your movements. The sound is a little too loud in the speakers, but it gets adjusted the moment you almost lose your hearing. The moment you see Nicolas Cage appear, it’s clear as day.

There’s a movie playing. And the movie playing is National treasure.

You think you’re hallucinating. This is surely a fata morgana.

Standing in the middle of the screening room, your mouth hangs agape and your eyes go wide as you watch the first few scenes of the movie. Ben Gates already learns about the hidden treasure passed down through American history when you feel a slight nudge to your shoulder, making you turn your head to see a tall figure staring you down with a bucket of popcorn in their hands.

You are confused. So utterly confused. The movie was on last week. You’d know– you worked the snack booth that day. The screening room is empty and it’s Wednesday– what’s going on?

“Can you sit? Or are you just going to watch the movie standing in the aisle,” Sunwoo grunts, balancing the big bucket of popcorn and two drinks in his large hands, the sight comical and almost making you want to watch him suffer some more.

Caught off guard, though, you let him back you into the aisle of seats, your figure slouching into one of the red cushions like a rag doll. Sunwoo takes place next to you, placing the big bucket of popcorn into your lap, before he settles into a seat as well and focuses his eyes and attention on the movie.

“What… what is this?” you ask, frozen in the seat.

“Hm?” Sunwoo frowns, looking at you. “National treasure,” he hums, “I thought you’d know, since you threw a scene about it that one time.”

“I- I know that, I just…” you trail off, still surprised at the turn of events, “what’s going on right now…?”

“We’re watching National treasure,” he notes, talking to you as if you were slow.

“What…?”

A sigh escapes Sunwoo’s lips at your utter confusion, his hand coming up to the bucket of popcorn in your lap and throwing a handful of the snack into his mouth before speaking. “Look, Y/N. You said you wanted to watch your favorite movie in the cinema, so that’s what you’re doing. Enjoy my owner’s son privileges for once,” he shrugs, watching as your face morphs into an unreadable expression.

That explanation satisfies you for a bit. The shock in your insides, though? Still present.

There’s something about the whole gesture that makes your stomach feel uneasy. Sunwoo did something nice for you– out of the kindness of his own heart– and you really don’t know why he would even think of something like this. You two aren’t on the best terms either, after all. Maybe he finally went crazy.

Or maybe you did and this was all the result of your imagination. Either or.

Yeah, you must be the one that’s gone batshit insane. Surely. You’re certain of the fact when you reach for the popcorn and accidentally touch his hand, the two of you deciding to get some at the same time, and your stomach does a flip and your brain makes a sign for you to quickly retract your hand– but the feeling of his slightly cold hand against your fingertips is now engraved into your memory and won’t leave and let you focus on the movie no matter how hard you try.

“You wouldn’t have to do this if you just let me switch schedules with you that time,” you note, “just saying.”

“I couldn’t,” he shrugs.

“Huh? But you bought two tickets..?”

“Yeah, but those were for my friends. I had to drive my mum down to grandmas that day, so I couldn’t go or take your shift that day,” he hums, not once breaking eye contact with the screen.

“If you would’ve just said so, I wouldn’t have made a scene about it–”

“Yeah… but I enjoy watching you make a scene,” he grins, shifting his attention towards you for a second with that lazy smirk playing with his lips. His hair is falling into his eyes and you have the urge to get it out of his face with a motion of your hand while also scolding him like a mother to finally get a haircut, just so you could see the twinkle in his mischievous orbs.

“You need to get serious help, then,” you grunt, pointing your gaze back towards the screen, unable to look at his face for any longer. He’s being annoying again. You’re annoyed.

“Probably,” he admits.

You two sit in silence for a while, the only sound accompanying you being the movie playing out on the big screen in front of you. You think this is the calmest you two have ever been around each other, and you’re starting to think that if Sunwoo just didn’t talk, you two could even get along.

Something touches the side of your thigh in the darkness of the room. Eyes darting to the source, you notice Sunwoo’s thigh pressing against yours, the cause of his obnoxious man-spreading, and something about the closeness of his body and the smell of his citrusy cologne makes you feel like your chest is heaving in on itself. You can’t stand him around you. You two can’t share this close of a space.

“Are you not leaving?” you ask.

“No,” he hums, “should I be?”

“Well, you’re on the clock…”

The man snickers, shaking his head in disbelief. “Y/N, you and I both know that the possibility of someone coming to buy a ticket on a Wednesday afternoon is close to zero. Me being there makes no difference in today’s sales.”

His hand knocks into yours again as you reach for more popcorn. You gulp, nodding. “Right…”

“And I wanted to see the movie to see if it’s really that good to make a scene about it,” he teases, another playful look sent your way from the corner of his eye.

You grunt, rolling your eyes. Oh how you hate his guts…

And even though you love the movie, you pray for it to end quickly. The more time you spend with Sunwoo forced into your zone of comfort, the more uncomfortable you feel– even the slightest movement of his body affects you and makes your brain turn on overdrive. It’s strange and it’s weird, and you don’t understand how hatred for a person could manifest in such reactions.

It’s better that you didn’t notice you two sitting in the love seat. God knows you wouldn’t handle that well. You’d rather die than to hold on to that knowledge.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – CLUELESS (1995)

They say that you only start realizing just how stupid people can be when you work in customer service. As one of the only three employees of the small, vintage cinema on the corner of the town’s square, you can only agree with the sentiment– you have a lot of stories to tell about the wonders of the human brain.

Like that one time you got screamed at because the movie tickets were ‘too expensive’ – because naturally, you should be able to change the price of them when asked. Or that one time you got screamed at because the movie tickets were sold out– because naturally, you should add more seats to the screening room just for the two middle-aged women to sit on during the premiere of the newest Orlando Bloom movie. Or when somebody yelled at you for the toilets being full after the movie– naturally, you are supposed to throw people out in the middle of them peeing. Or build new stalls. Either or.

They say that you only start realizing just how stupid people can be when you work in customer service, but truly, you also realize just how rude they can also be for no reason at all.

Much like today. It’s Friday, which means it’s premiere night. The tickets to all movies this week are sold out already, so no one is on ticket booth duty, and much to your relief, Mr Kim took the snack stand himself. Your responsibility for the day is scanning the tickets and then making sure no one is getting inside during the movie without a ticket.

It’s not a hard job. Not at all– you would even say nothing about working in the cinema is hard, when you don’t have an annoying coworker trying to make your whole life a living hell– but you see, customers love to make your job harder just by being unreasonably rude about things that are clearly out of your control.

“Sir, I really can’t let you in, I’m sorry,” you say, tone of voice polite despite screaming on the inside. In front of you is standing a tall man, maybe a few years older than you, the expression on his face full of anger and vexation. They say a customer is always right. You agree only when the customer looks like they could wait for you after work and beat you up in the bushes. Sadly, that still doesn’t mean you can let the man inside without a valid ticket.

“What do you mean? Little one, I’m telling you I bought the ticket here, so if you don’t let me in–”

“All tickets purchased for the screening should be able to scan through this, sir, and if it doesn’t work, I am not allowed to let you inside of the cinema,” you try to explain, getting kind of desperate. The line behind him was forming and the movie was supposed to play in a few minutes, so if you wanted to scan all the tickets in time, you had to be quick.

He wouldn’t budge, though. His eyebrows are furrowed and the guy behind him seems to be getting angry as well, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up alert, like a cat when it senses danger. You try your hardest to keep your tone firm, hands clasped politely behind your back. “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir, or maybe check in with the owner about the issue? I don’t have the competence to–”

“Listen, I won’t be talking to anyone, because you will let me in, okay?”

“Sir, I can’t-”

Your sentence is cut off by the man again, his fury making you take a step backwards in fear. “And if you don’t, you will see the consequences.”

Gulping, you try to think of a way to get out of this situation. Mr Kim is too far away for you to call, and he is also busy– the line is long and Sunwoo isn’t working today. It’s just the two of you today, so your options are getting slimmer. You can’t let that man in without a working ticket– it seems like the one he’s showing you is either a fake one, or bought in another cinema– but it seems like if you don’t, he’ll have you dead before the next morning.

“So?”

Opening your mouth to answer (although your brain is still empty and you don’t even know what more to say), a low voice coming from behind you startles you in the middle of your crisis. “Is there a problem here?”

Turning your head to the source of the voice, you’ve never been more relieved to see Kim Sunwoo in your close proximity. You watch as he puts a rolled-up poster to the ground behind you before he takes another step closer towards your figure, his expression stone cold and glaring at the man in front of you.

“Your coworker here won’t let me in to watch the movie,” he complains, hand waving around in a threatening way.

Just having Sunwoo around makes you more confident. Clearing your throat, your eyes dart to your coworker, seeing his face morph into irritation. “It won’t scan his ticket, so…”

“If it won’t scan your ticket, it means it’s invalid and we’re not allowed to let you in,” Sunwoo says, tone of voice way less polite than the one you were using before.

“That’s ridiculous-”

“You are ridiculous,” Sunwoo grunts, annoyance clearly written all over his face. “You were asked to leave, so maybe you should.”

Truth be told, you’ve been in a couple of arguments with Sunwoo before. In none of them has he ever looked and sounded like this, though. You and Sunwoo argue with spite– sparks flying waiting to start a fire, curses and harsh words thrown around carelessly in moments of heated hatred. His tone is stern, but never threatening. Never mean. Not in the way he’s being right now.

It makes you stare at him wordlessly. He seems to be taking the lead in the situation, reacting territorially to the man in front of him. You can’t say you don’t feel safer with him around– you would be lying.

“Maybe you could just let me in and get this over with–”

“And maybe you could fuck off,” Sunwoo says back, something in his tone making your stomach feel all light. He looks serious, standing his ground, and the man finally seems to get the memo that he’s not watching the premiere tonight, because he backs off and grits his teeth at the male.

“Your boss will hear about this,” he threatens, making Sunwoo chuckle.

“I’m sure he will.”

Sympathetic looks are thrown your way from the women in the line behind that can finally come up to you so you scan their tickets. You smile at each one and try to seem unaffected by the exchange, but the memory of it still lingers in your brain and doesn’t make you rest easy as you greet the rest of the customers.

You didn’t even realize Sunwoo was still standing next to you, watching you work. He seems to recognise your shaken-up composure, tone of voice sympathetic and quiet as he asks: “You okay?”

“What?” you ask, surprised by the question, “oh. Yeah, I’m fine. He was just… being a bitch, the usual.”

“Yeah,” he snickers, “why didn’t you just scream at him like you do to me? I bet that would scare him away,” he notes, making you roll your eyes at the comment.

“Because he looked like he could beat me up, Sunwoo.”

“And I don’t?” he gasps, suddenly offended.

You scan the boy up and down, pretending to think it over for a few before you shake your head. “No,” you shrug, “I could beat you up.”

“Excuse you?” he gasps, crossing his arms at his chest in a defensive stance, the shock on his face mixing in with amusement.

“Don’t believe me? Wanna try?” you test, the conversation suddenly flowing freely, without you even noticing. You don’t pay it much thought, but you guess getting along with Sunwoo is easier when he’s on your side. Most of the time, he’s not, though– and maybe that’s the problem.

“Okay,” he nods, “meet me in the back when you’re off. No weapons allowed, we’ll do it the street style. This is a battle of fists,” he points a finger at you, the sentence making you sigh dreamily and point your eyes towards the ceiling.

“You can’t even imagine how long I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

Sunwoo smiles at that– that dumb, boyish smile you usually so despise– and shakes his head at your antics. The conversation dies down a bit after the exchange– with you scanning the tickets and trying your hardest to make it through the line before the movie starts, when your coworker, dressed in none other than his signature gray hoodie and black jeans, nudges you with his elbow. “Want me to stay for a bit, or are you good now?”

“I can take care of myself, Sunwoo,” you sigh, “you can go about your day.”

“Well, it didn’t seem like it a few minutes ago–”

“I can take care of myself when I’m not confronted with a tall muscled man that is threatening me, Sunwoo,” you repeat, looking at the rest of the line, “so with him gone now, you can go about your day. What are you even doing here, by the way? I thought you were off today.”

“I am,” he nods, rocking a little in his place, shifting weight from his heels towards his toes, “I was just… here to drop off something for you,” he says, clearing his throat and pointing towards the poster he was holding when he first approached you, the shiny tube now resting against the nearest wall.

You shoot the boy a curious look, eyebrows furrowed in question. You don’t get to ask for clarification about the character of the poster, because he abruptly cuts off your train of thought, speaking fast as if to avoid making any more conversation with you. “I’ll see you in the back after you’re done for that fist fight, then. Bye!”

And before you get a chance to say anything back, Sunwoo swiftly turns on his heel and awkwardly marches towards the front door. You don’t have much time to inspect the thing he dropped off for you, but after you’re done with scanning the tickets and have time to breathe when the movie starts, you allow yourself to peek inside–

only to see a National treasure poster staring back at you, surface glossy and glimmering, as if you just opened a chest full of gold.

As you take the poster to the staff room with you (while also wearing a huge, embarrassing grin on your face for someone staring at the face of Nicolas Cage), making sure it’s safe and sound until you can bring it home with you, you wonder why you haven’t been civil with Kim Sunwoo before.

It’s good to have a taste of his owner’s son privileges sometimes.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – ME BEFORE YOU (2016)

The day is Friday, the 1st of December. Mr Kim’s ‘Rewind Thursdays' event is over and while Fridays are always the premiere days, meaning you usually have to work the evenings either in the snack booth or in the ticket booth, your boss told you you can have the night off under one condition– you come in the morning (since you told him your classes are done for the semester, he’s been keen on making you work at random times of the day) and help Sunwoo with Christmas decorations in the cinema.

And, well, who are you to say no to a free evening? Maybe you can finally have that self-care time you’ve been needing before your exam season starts.

“Can you get the ladder from the back?” Sunwoo asks, tone of voice not at all interested. You don’t know what the reasoning behind his mood is, but you figure it’s either the fact that he had to get up before 12, or the fact that he doesn’t really seem like the type to like decorating.

“Why don’t you get it?” you huff, wiping your forehead off the sweat that’s cumulated on it over the time you spent bringing out all the boxes full of decorations out of the staff room. “I brought everything in, maybe you can do some work for once.”

One would think your dynamics with Kim Sunwoo would shift after he’s been nice to you on multiple occasions. And sure, you don’t really fight with him as often and he hasn’t pulled a prank on you in a while, but some days, his whole presence is still just as annoying to you as it’s been for the past couple of months. There’s not really much you can do about it– especially not when he’s bossing you around and not doing any actual work himself.

“I built the christmas tree,” he grunts, opening one of the boxes full of ornaments, squinting at the contains with disgust on his face. “And I put up all the other useless stuff before you got here too,” he says, pointing a glare at you.

Looking around the theater, you notice various types of decorations all over the place. There’s some mistletoe hanging off the ceiling (which has you wondering how he even got it there in the first place) and garlands framing all the doorways– the greenery making the whole place decorated in a very vintage tone. It’s fitting to the theme of the cinema, though, and you can tell that Sunwoo really can’t be arsed to do any better, so you don’t mention it out loud in favor of avoiding another one of your petty cat fights.

Admitting your defeat, you storm back into the staff room and carry out the tall ladder, struggling to fit through the doorways and to cross the corners, praying to all higher forces that you don’t accidentally scratch off pieces of the wall on your way to Sunwoo.

You put down the metal construction with a loud thud, making the boy look up at you from beneath his bangs, the silent curse evident in his eyes. You don’t know what’s up with him, but again, you won’t ask. You try to tell yourself that you don’t really care either, but with every glance towards his direction, the question keeps bugging you and dancing around your brain.

You force yourself not to care.

Watching as he tries to untangle the Christmas lights, struggle evident in the frustration written all over his face, you sigh and walk over to him, taking the bundle of wire out of his hands and threading your skilled fingers through the lengthy cable. You’re an expert in untangling– you don’t own bluetooth headphones, so you do this pretty much every day before listening to some music. Your headphones love to tangle in your pocket no matter how neatly you try to keep them in your pants– it’s a mystery. Almost like the Bermuda triangle.

“I can do it myself,” Sunwoo huffs, eyebrows furrowing when he watches you work your magic.

“You seemed like it too,” you ironically note, letting the spiteful side of you win, enjoying yourself when you’re rewarded by the snarky roll of Sunwoo’s eyes– everything is back to normal. You two aren’t friends, you don’t like to be in each other’s presence, and no number of shiny stolen posters and private sessions in the screening room will ever change that.

“Hold this,” you say, thrusting the end of the cord into his hand, walking a few meters away from him as you detangle the lights, watching as he impatiently stomps the floor with his heel, reminding you of Snowball from The secret life of pets movie.

When you’re done and the Christmas lights are now a straight line of wire, you slowly walk over to the tall tree in the middle of the room, wrapping the lights around the fake forest-green needles. You’re glad that the lights are long enough to cover the whole thing and you don’t have to untangle another ones, and when you’re done, you watch your coworker plug them in, examining the small, colorful light bulbs.

“Okay, now the ornaments,” you say, more to yourself than to anybody in the room, as you waltz over to the boxes and take out the decorations varying in shapes and sizes. You don’t really know what color scheme Mr Kim wants you to go for– and you doubt Sunwoo is aware either, so you just take out the ornaments you find the most pretty and hang them all over the tree, making sure each branch is covered.

Sunwoo stands around for a while, unmoving as he watches you, before he sighs to himself and finally decides to help. You leave him be, thinking that it’s for the best if you two don’t speak today when he’s in such a bad mood, but you break that promise almost immediately when you stare back at the tree after retrieving some more ornaments from the box to your right and notice the almost painful clash of colors.

You should’ve known you can’t trust a man with decorating. The beautiful contrast of the baby pink and brown ornaments you put on the tree is now ruined by the green ones you intentionally left on the bottom of the box. The colors don’t go together at all and you want to claw your eyes out every second you have to stare at it.

“Sunwoo, those colors don’t go together at all,” you say, point and blank– no sugarcoating, no offensive words, just straight facts.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, that tree looks terrifying, and it’s all because you ruined it,” you say.

Okay, maybe you are overreacting just the slightest. But isn’t there fun in making your coworker completely out of his mind? Is this your roles being reversed for the first time? Are you finally winning this little game?

Nevertheless, you are enjoying the outburst that follows from Sunwoo. Mainly because he looks like a child throwing a tantrum as he huffs and takes off the green ornaments he put on to the tree and throws the handful back into the cardboard box, not really caring if they break or not. You’ll be replaying this scene in your head forever before you go to sleep, for the absolute frustration and annoyance on his face is one of your biggest trophies. Right now, though, you’re battling the urge to laugh.

“Fine, do it yourself, then,” Sunwoo says as he walks away from the tree, choosing to sit on the floor cross-legged, taking out his phone and scrolling through social media.

Again, you don’t know what’s gotten into him today, but you force yourself not to care. You have a job to finish here so you can go home and enjoy your day, and that’s why exactly you just shrug and finish putting on the pretty ornaments, admiring your work every once in a while when you take a break and stare on the tall tree, kind of breathless from the beauty.

You’re not really big on Christmas, but you must admit that this is fun.

The sound of Sunwoo swiping through Instagram reels is the only thing accompanying your actions, and as you look over your shoulder and see his almost sad face, you bite your lip just to not ask him what’s the matter. You’re not supposed to care. And you don’t.

“Can’t you put some festive music on?” you ask instead, your lips just begging to have a conversation with the male, despite your best judgment.

“No,” Sunwoo barks back, not even taking his eyes off the phone as the sound of the reel changes into another one, a swipe of his thumb across the screen showing him another video.

Nodding to yourself, you carefully try to pick out your next words. Not really sure how to address the male, you choose to approach him with a hint of humor you’re not sure he’ll appreciate. “What’s up with you? You’re bitchier than usual,” you say, scanning the male with cautious eyes.

Sunwoo stops for a while– a millisecond of him halting his scrolling, an action you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t trying to see any shift in his composure– before he speaks up again. “Nothing,” he shrugs.

“Okay,” you say, a tone of voice full of doubt.

When you conclude that you’re not getting more answers out of him, you nod to yourself and dart back towards the Christmas tree, making sure you make more eye contact with the glossy ornaments than with your coworker sitting behind you on the ground. Not much time passes by before he speaks up again, though, tone of voice quiet and hesitant.

“I’m just not in the mood today,” he sighs, “I have a final next week and it’s stressing me out, I haven’t slept well in quite a few days, my dad’s making me work more than usual and on top of that, I absolutely hate winter.”

“You hate winter?” you choose to focus on the least serious topic of the little rant, not really knowing when your boundaries lay in discussing the more serious ones.

“Yeah,” Sunwoo chuckles, “it’s like a shittier fall. It’s cold and dark all the time. It would be different if it snowed, though. I love it when it snows.”

Snickering at his sudden confession, you shake your head. “You’re like a little kid.”

“I remember you calling me a child once,” Sunwoo hums in agreement.

“That was different,” you say, hoping to cheer the male up at least a bit with your usual quarrel.

“I figured by the way you threw the toilet brush to my chest,” Sunwoo laughs, the memory of torturing you fond in his brain. The poster he gave you almost made you forget about the fact that he managed to make your life a living hell for quite some time– maybe you should consider this a wake-up call.

The conversation quiets down for a bit, even the sound of Sunwoo’s Instagram reels discontinued as you two marvel in the now much more comfortable silence. Testing the waters, you clear your throat before speaking up again. “Don’t worry about that exam, by the way. I’m sure you’ll do well.”

“How would you know?”

“You’re clever. You need to be clever to come up with all various ways to make my life more miserable,” you say, smiling when you hear him let out a breath of air through his nose, signaling a silent laugh.

“Any advice on the sleepless nights?” he asks, tone of voice light and humorous.

“Less things in your head,” you hum, putting the last ornament onto one of the branches, satisfied with your work. “Or melatonin.”

“Noted,” he nods, sharing a smile with you.

Walking over to the boxes stored a few feet away from the male, you open up the slim one thrown on the side, holding up the star. Your eyes meet his, a carefree twinkle in your orbs when you try to cheer up the boy’s inner child by doing a child's favorite activity. “Do you want to put the star on?”

He fails you, though. “No.”

“Why not?”

“You decorated it all yourself, so you can do the star,” he shrugs, not really into your idea.

“Oh come on–”

“I don’t feel like standing up,” Sunwoo grunts, the joy on your insides finally dying down when you get a taste of his usual composure– the one that really can’t be arsed with anything.

Sighing to yourself, you waltz over to the tall ladder, and despite your biggest worries, you continue climbing up the metal construction even when it wobbles and makes you fear you’re gonna fall. The whole thing is kind of unsteady and makes your heart thump in your throat, but you choose to get it over with and finally climb to the very top, outstretching your arm and putting the star on top of the tree, the decoration process now done and freeing you off your today’s work responsibilities.

Something akin to satisfaction beams in your insides as you climb down the ladder, and now, you’ll write this off to you being a little too excited with the vision of a face mask and popcorn at home– but your leg slips on one of the steps and despite the ladder being now magically steady, your body comes crashing down to the floor.

A yelp fights out of your throat, hands go flying in a desperate need to steady yourself or hold on to something that would make you not fall hard against the marble floor, when a miracle straight down from heaven comes to rescue in a form of flesh holding you up and shielding you from the fall, a grunt landing in your ears when your body settles into soft fabric of dark gray.

Head snapping to the source of the arms around your waist, surprised at the person’s strength used to balance you two on your feet as you fell (well, your knees buckled, but still, they haven’t yet hit the ground), you notice a pair of chocolate orbs staring down at you through a curtain of dark hair, wide eyes scanning your face and breathing out a puff of air.

“Look where you’re stepping next time, for fuck’s sake,” Sunwoo huffs, watching as your brain tries to process the near-death experience.

Registering his arms firmly placed around your waist (now realizing the soft fabric was the hoodie he’s been living in for the past few months), the citrusy scent of his cologne makes your head spin, eyes scanning his face in quick motions, as if not aware of who was your savior. You wonder how he even got to you on time (not really noticing him walking over to the ladder as soon as he saw it wobbling under you, holding it down to keep you from toppling over), and when your eyes curiously gaze at his chapped, yet plush lips, the warmth in your stomach makes you finally snap out of it.

Untangling yourself out of his limbs, much like you did with the Christmas lights a few minutes ago, you clear your throat and try to get your breathing back to normal. Your knees are a little weak, but you write that off to the shock of falling.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you just agreed to put the star on,” you complain, straightening your clothes as you walk over to the empty boxes nearby, stacking them into one another and avoiding all possible eye contact with the male.

It’s working– at least that’s what you keep telling yourself– up until you hear him chuckle and see a pair of hands taking the tower of boxes out of your hold, a charming grin sent your way as he walks away from you to the staff room. “If you say so.”

Okay, so it’s not working.

You’re fucked.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – THE PROPOSAL (2009)

“So… I was thinking,” Sunwoo starts one day, a bundle of rolled-up posters stacked up in his arms like a pyramid, puffs of cold air making clouds appear in front of his face as he speaks, “would you want to go see a movie with me?” he asks, tone of voice casual, as if he was asking you about the weather.

The poster you’re currently putting up into one of the glass holders outside of the cinema almost slips out of your frozen fingers out of shock, your heart skipping a beat. “Huh?” you hum, taking out a container full of pins out of your coat pocket and securing the poster to its designated place. “You want to bring money to your father’s competitor?” you joke.

“What? No,” he quickly replies, furrowing his brows as he shakes his head. “I meant, like, here,” he says, nodding towards the building to prove his point, taking a step aside when you close the glass door of the poster holder and move towards the next one, 3 more movie banners left to put up outside of the cinema.

The wires in your brain work on full force, trying to clear out any confusion caused by his sudden invitation. Sure, you two have gotten closer ever since you talked with him at the Christmas tree a week ago, but still, you didn’t know it was enough to hang out outside of work hours.

Instead of focusing the conversation on this unpredictable development, you turn towards clearing out the logistics instead. “How would we even do that? We either work at the same time or you work when I don’t and the other way around,” you say, taking the next poster from him and putting it up.

All of the movies airing the next two weeks are Christmas movies. Some of them are old, some of them are premieres, but still– you can’t really imagine watching a festive movie with your coworker. Up until last week, you thought of him as the next reincarnation of Grinch.

“I could get my sister to switch with me on a day you don’t work,” he hums, sheepish about his preposition. There’s something bashful in his tone, something shy in his gaze as he watches you put up the movie poster, but you try your hardest to ignore it for the sake of your sanity. You’re already having a hard time dealing with the fact that he appeared in your dreams twice since he caught you in his arms last week. You don’t need to add the switch in dynamic to the mix.

“Isn’t she underage?” you ask, snickering.

“Yeah, and?” he shrugs. “It’s a family business, Y/N. Everyone has to be included, underage or not.”

A laugh erupts out of your throat at the comment, shaking your head at the boy in disbelief.

“What would you even wanna see? Those are all Christmas movies,” you say, moving along and focusing your attention to the glossy material in your fingers.

“I don’t see how that’s a problem,” he says.

“Oh, it is,” you mutter, “I don’t like Christmas movies.”

Sunwoo grunts. “Well, I don’t really care. I saw your favorite movie with you, so you can return the favor and see my favorite movie with me,” he speaks up, making you roll your eyes at his words.

“There’s no way any of those movies is your favorite,” you note, doubtful tone haunting the boy.

“You wouldn’t know,” he laughs, making your heart do cartwheels at the sound, his teasing making you feel warmth despite the cold breeze trying to make your bones freeze into blocks of ice.

“I won’t go unless I believe you,” you say, grinning as you close the glass box and take the last poster out of Sunwoo’s hands, watching as the boy puts his frozen fingers into the comfort of his warm jacket, shielding them from the cold.

“Not fair.”

“Very fair, actually.”

“Oh come on,” he sighs, shaking his head in disagreement, “I thought we could watch a Christmas movie as a celebration to the end of semester,” he says, tone of voice almost pleading.

Securing the last banner into its designated place, you turn towards Sunwoo with an examining look on your face. He seems to be completely serious, eyes big pools of honey as he watches your face morph as you think. Something in your stomach makes it feel like it’s flying, making you clear your throat as you avert your gaze towards the line of Christmas movie posters on the brick wall. “Fine,” you gulp, “so what do you wanna watch?”

“The Polar Express,” he says, pointing towards the A3 scale you put up last, showing one of the movies that were older, but Mr Kim decided to air anyway– as if he was aware.

Fuck, you think. That’s my favorite.

“Absolutely not,” you cough, “I hate that movie.”

“Huh? How?” he sighs, face full of disappointment.

“Just because. It’s too long.”

“It’s not even two hours?”

Eyes quickly darting towards the poster, pupils shaking as you look towards the airing dates at the very bottom, you chew on your bottom lip, trying to find a way out. “You’re working on the 18th.”

“Okay, then we can go on the 19th,” Sunwoo says, determined to make you watch the movie with him. Why? You don’t even want to know at this point.

“I go home for Christmas break on the 19th,” you say, shrugging. “See? It wasn’t meant to be.”

“Y/N, come on–”

“Listen, can’t we just go back to hating each other instead of you annoying me about this stupid movie?” you sigh. In the whirlpool of events, you forgot just how insistent Sunwoo could be– who knows, maybe this was the real reason why you were so irritated with him in the first place.

Slowly walking back towards your workplace, hearing Sunwoo’s sneakers hit the ground behind you as he trails after you like a lost puppy, a sense of momentarily victory flows through your veins when you recognise that you found your way out. There was no way Mr Kim would let his underage daughter work instead of Sunwoo, and you truly were leaving home the evening of 19th. You already had a train ticket– you’re not gonna change your plans because of a man you despised just a few days ago.

“I never really hated you, by the way. Besides, you’re only saying that because you hate the movie,” Sunwoo grunts, chiming in front of you– making you think he’s being petty and doesn’t want to talk to you anymore, surprising you when he opens the door for you and offers you a solemn gaze, waiting for you to walk through the entryway and go back to work. (For you, it’s sitting in the ticket booth in silence. For Sunwoo, it’s pretending to work in the back, since his dad is absent today again)

Reciprocating his gaze, noticing the disappointment behind your coworker’s eyes, you feel something in your stomach drop, the weight of it so heavy you quickly avert your look.

“Maybe,” you shrug.

And maybe, the true reason is something completely else.

The words resonate through your brain– ‘I never really hated you, by the way’. Funny. Then what were all those months of torture all about?

You decide you no longer want answers.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – WHEN HARRY MET SALLY (1989)

You can’t believe you’re doing something nice for Kim Sunwoo.

Shoes hitting the gravel, your scarf pulled up so it covers your nose from the ice cold air, a hat hugging your head in warmth and shielding you from the aggressive weather, you start to contemplate your choices and your next moves. A sigh escapes your throat when your eyes land on the marquee above the entrance of the movie theater, teeth chewing on the inside of your cheek as you shift your weight from one foot to another.

Pulling out your phone to check the time, a shiny 7:24PM stares back at you, pushing you to walk up to the door of your workplace on your day off, 24 minutes after the beginning of The polar express.

You feel silly. You feel oh so stupid when you push the door open and your body is immediately engulfed in warmth, the yellow dim lights of the cinema making your eyes slowly adjust to the brightness contrasting the darkness of the outside world. You feel like you must have gone crazy, especially when your insides start to get all light and bubbly, hints of nerves tingling at the tips of your fingertips and the deepest corners of your stomach. There’s no turning back now, you tell yourself– and when your feet automatically take you to the ticket booth, gaze landing on the boy with his bangs in his eyes and an expression worthy of a kicked puppy on his face, you suddenly feel like your trip to the cinema was all worth it.

Clearing your throat, you notify your coworker of your presence, his big, doe eyes staring at you in surprise. Sunwoo’s mouth goes agape, shock overtaking his features when he takes in your appearance. (You bet he thinks you look laughable– your eyes teary from the cold and your figure stoic, numb limbs hanging by your side.)

“What are you doing here?” he asks, the question not as aggressive as it sounded out of your lips every time he paid a visit to the cinema on his days off for all these months.

“Uh… I forgot some things in the back and I wanted to take them home tomorrow, so I came back for them,” you hum, the practiced excuse slipping out of your lips with ease, “can you come help me?”

Sunwoo looks even more surprised at your question– although there is now a hint of confusion in the mix. What could you possibly have in the back to need his help with? For as far as he knows, you only ever kept your work uniform in your locker. “What? Can’t you get it yourself…?” he asks, noticing as you shake your head in disapproval.

“It’s… it’s on the top of the lockers and I can’t reach it, so-”

“Grab a chair…?”

You didn’t really expect to have Sunwoo question your half-assed excuse. Truly, you thought this was going to go smoothly– but knowing Kim Sunwoo, you should’ve known it was never going to go the way you planned. You’re determined to win, though.

And so it’s the time to bring out the big guns– men never say no when you praise them and make yourself look incompetent.

“Please? I don’t feel like bringing a chair and you’re tall enough. It will only take a second…” you pout, watching as the male in front of you sighs and stands up from his seat, nodding at your humble request.

Sunwoo follows you as you walk down the corridor, your heart thumping with the start of your little plan. Your steps are calculated and your movements carefully programmed, the nervousness in your stomach making you even more giddy with every meter of distance you two cross.

Before you two get a chance to make it to the back, you make a swift turn and open the doors to one of the rooms on the left of the hall, dragging Sunwoo by his hand and tugging him inside. His body stumbles against yours, but the door closes behind him faster than he can react to the impact. Steadying the boy back to his feet, you watch him with anticipation, awaiting his reaction.

The truth is, you haven’t thought the plan out this far. The depiction of it in your brain always ended with you sneaking him into the projecting room and his curious eyes peering into yours. Something about the image of the events always made you feel too overwhelmed– you never dared to imagine the situation further. (That would mean admitting some hidden desires to yourself, so you never even tried. That all makes this situation twice as nerve-wrecking, though.)

“What… are we doing here?” he asks, eyes darting around the darkness of the projection room, the only light illuminating his pretty features being the movie playing behind the glass of the small booth.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to watch The polar express with me?” you ask, voice a few octaves higher than usual.

“I… did…” he mumbles, confusion making him stumble over his own words.

“Well, you are working and I leave tomorrow, so I figured I had to find a way…” you shrug, watching as Sunwoo looks at you a little frozen, big eyes staring you down, gears turning in his head. You can’t really read him– you don’t really know if he’s going to laugh at you or send you home for ruining his shift. You don’t know if he appreciates the gesture, or if he thinks you’re being embarrassing. You don’t know if he registers the slight tremble of your hands and the lightness of your breathing, you don’t know if he realizes how much his reaction could make your day or completely ruin it (just like always), and so, you panic– and when you panic, you ramble. “I know we are technically not supposed to be here– well, me, at least– but I think that being with the owner’s son could make my boss let me off even if he somehow finds out, which I doubt he will, but–”

Sunwoo’s face starts slowly morphing, the slightest of shifts slowly adding up to a change of expression, having the male break out into the biggest, happiest grin you’ve ever seen him sport. His eyes light up and glaze your features in the softest of touches, his head shaking in disbelief. “Oh, you’re adorable.”

“What?” you ask, your heart doing seven somersaults and five cartwheels, eyes a big pool of surprise.

“You did this for me?” he beams, his grin so big and pretty it takes your breath away. Butterfly wings tickle in your stomach at the sight, having you mentally curse yourself– hold it together, Y/N.

“I- I mean, I didn’t really do anything, we just sneaked in–”

“This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me,” Sunwoo hums, the teasing tone making its comeback in his voice, “actually, this might be the first sweet thing you’ve ever done for me–”

“Well, okay,” you roll your eyes, an embarrassed laugh dragging out of your throat as you turn on your heel and walk closer to the little table in the opposite end of the room, needing to avert your gaze from the boy for at least a second. The air is suddenly too heavy and it’s hard for you to breathe, heat rushing to your cheeks.

Eyes focusing on the screen in front of you, your brain tries hard to focus on your favorite Christmas movie. Failing, your head running thoughts full of conflicting emotions and erratic exclamation marks screaming the name of the boy behind you, you ask yourself how and when exactly you’ve gotten yourself into this mess.

Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten this job in the first place.

Ears painfully alert, listening to each sound heard in the small projecting room– the shuffling of Sunwoo’s feet as he nears your figure, the muffled noise of the movie playing in the screening room in front of you, the resonance of your own heartbeat in your ears as Sunwoo’s hands suddenly sneak around your middle, your jacket squeaking from the contact of his limbs as he hugs you.

“What–”

“Don’t fight me, Y/N. Just this once,” he hums, voice deep, but still a bit hesitant. It’s like he’s walking on unsteady land, cautious of his movements in fear of making you run away. He’s in a new territory, in your personal space– the scent of his cologne fills your nostrils again as his head settles itself on your shoulder, the two of you silently watching the movie for a few seconds, not really knowing how to proceed.

There’s something intimate in the way he holds you, in the way the movie is a mere background noise to the marathon of your thoughts, the blue light illuminating your faces as you both try your hardest to keep your cool.

A flashing thought of just how much you from a few months ago would hate the position it’s in right now passes by your brain, making you instantly feel foolish. Oh how much you’d love it if you stood here unaffected right now– there’s no way to battle the warmth flooding your insides right at this moment, though.

“This is nice,” he mumbles, voice barely louder than a whisper. “Thank you,” he says, your insides squeezing at the sincerity. It’s not often you get to see this side of Sunwoo– the sweet, patient one, the side of him that makes you feel safe in his arms and appreciated with the soft tone in his words. And while you realize you don’t hate the playful side of him just as much as you thought you did, you must admit the novelty of the situation makes you feel a bit more joyful than you’d like to admit.

The weight of his head disappears from your shoulder, making you feel momentarily disappointed by the action. You expect him to pull away and take a seat on the chair, to finally focus on the movie playing in front of your eyes, the thought alone making your spirit fall. The fire in your inside lights up like a match thrown into a pool of gasoline just as fast again, though, when you feel soft lips come in contact with your cheek.

They stay only for a second before they disappear, an airy laugh landing in your ear a second later. “Please don’t run away now,” he says, tone of voice uncertain, telling you that now the ball is in your court– your next actions could either make him the happiest man on Earth, or completely break him.

The choice is yours.

Your head turns his way, eyes instantly locking with his brown orbs searching for any signs of discomfort in your face. Slowly, as if still processing the events of before, your eyes trail over his features– the awfully handsome way his face was sculpted, the softness of his eyes and the sharpness of his jaw, the slope of his nose and the plushness of his lips. They’re not as chapped today, making you wonder if he started wearing vaseline, and before you get a chance to stop yourself, you start wondering of the way his lips would feel on yours, imagination running wild.

He heaves out a shaky breath, your eyes darting back into his– as if to ask for approval, see if he’s okay with it. There’s a dazy look in them, gaze pressed to your lips, then to your eyes, then your lips again– a look you take as an invitation as you act against all your best judgment and lean towards him, pressing your mouth against his.

As if testing the waters, you make the kiss short. It was long enough to engrave it into your brain, though– to remember the way his perfectly shaped lips pressed against yours, the way the world stopped just for a moment, the way he tasted of the strawberry mints he always eats at work whenever he has nothing to do.

Sunwoo seems to find liking in the action– lips glazing yours again, pressing another peck to them before he deepens the kiss, the tingling in your fingertips intensifying and the excitement bubbling in your frame making you turn in your position, front facing him and pressing up against his chest. His hands quickly adjust, slipping under your opened jacket and settling on your clothed waist, the slightest contact making your knees weak and settle your bottom against the table behind you, hands grabbing the fabric of his sweatshirt.

He pulls back to catch some air, a boyish grin breaking out on his face, forehead knocking against yours in a sweet, giddy manner. “I’ve wanted to do this for months,” he huffs.

The sentiment makes a thousand question marks appear in your head– why did he make your life a living hell, then? Why did he pull pranks on you and make you hate every second spent with him? Why did he make you so furious each time and argued with you about the smallest things? How could Sunwoo possibly have wanted this for months, when you just only started noticing his attractiveness a few weeks ago?

“Why–”

“I’ll tell you later,” he says, cutting you off as he presses his lips against yours again, your mouth automatically welcoming his presence. Brain erased of all previous questions, his kisses working like a spell, you focus all your senses on the man in front of you.

Having your hands feeling up his abdomen, Sunwoo hesitantly asks for entrance with his tongue, running it along your lower lip until you welcome him in. You like this type of power battle much more than the one you had going on until now, and with each new movement, you feel yourself falling apart under him.

His fingers tug down on the sides of your jacket, pulling it down. You don’t need it anymore– with how heated you’ve gotten, you are actually kind of happy that it is gone. One of his cold hands sneaks under the hem of your jumper, fingertips trailing up and down your side, the other one tugs down the hat from your head, discarding it somewhere on the table behind you before it finds its place on the side of your jaw, angling your head in a way that allows him to deepen the kiss even more, the contact of your lips growing firmer as seconds go by.

Your scarf is swiftly untangled off your neck, Sunwoo’s skilled lips blindly trailing down the side of your mouth towards your jaw, feathery kisses ticking you before he gets more bold and sucks on the side of your throat, a shaky breath shyly escaping your lips.

“Sunwoo…” you say, tone of voice not really present, no real intention behind the call of his name.

The boy hums against your neck, having you gasp again when he lightly bites the softness of your skin, your hands shooting up to tangle in his hair when he licks the spot to soothe it after. Threading your fingers through his locks to ground yourself, you can’t believe you ever hoped for him to get a trim.

His hands firmly hold the underside of your thighs before he hoists you up on the table, continuing his confident attack on your neck when you’re sitting comfortably on the hard surface. It’s not like you didn’t feel excited, the tiniest bit thrilled at the mental image of his possessive marks all over your throat, but you were glad it was freezing outside and you could wear a turtleneck to hide the bruises from your family tomorrow. He nuzzles his nose into the hot skin of your neck, the action making you grin in ecstasy and endearment.

Getting lost in the way he was handling you, his touches firm, yet delicate, acted out in a way that makes you feel safe and comfortable with his passionate ministrations, you almost don’t notice the door swinging open, the figure of your boss like striking like the lightning in the doorway of the screening room.

“Sunwoo!”

The boy jumps, his body quickly ungluing itself off yours, as he listens to his father scolding him. “I don’t care what you two have going on over here, but you’re on clock! There’s a line waiting for the tickets for tomorrow’s movie and someone has to sell them right now.”

The boy clears his throat, voice a little hoarse. “Coming,” he says, trying to keep his composure. His hair’s a little tousled, cheeks rosy and lips puffed– the image that will haunt you in your sweetest nightmares now– and before you get a chance to say anything or let your brain process the events of the last few minutes, your panic works faster, making you act.

Quickly scattering for your things, you run out of the projecting room without saying goodbye to either Sunwoo or your boss, never once looking back.

You think of what you’ve done on your way home, bones freezing now that they weren’t in his presence. You try hard to regret your actions, but you don’t find it in you to do so– it’s kind of hard with the feeling of his lips still playing with yours.

Even though you’d hate to admit it just a few weeks ago, you must do it now.

Kim Sunwoo does make a really good kisser.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – PRIDE AND PREJUDICE (2005)

There are many thoughts swimming around your brain as you walk through the coldness of the town the next day, your duffel bag hanging off your shoulder. There’s a conflict between the actions of your body and your thoughts – feet on their journey to the train station, but head stuck in the small projection room of your workplace, your coworker’s kisses occupying your every sober thought.

It’s not surprising, but you haven't heard from Sunwoo since you left the cinema last night. Not a single text or a call– but you figure that this is just your dynamic. Sunwoo’s never been much of a texter when it came to you. He’s never had the reason to text or call you, unless it was work-related, and you think it will stay that way, even though you did make out with him just last night.

Maybe he regretted it. Maybe he just didn’t feel like pondering on the events any longer– maybe it was just a one-time thing for him and he didn’t put much significance to it. You wouldn’t know– it’s not like you’re suddenly an expert on the way he feels and operates.

You, though? How do you feel about the turn of events? Despite not wanting to admit it to yourself, the answer came to you the second you tried to fall asleep last night, every soaring thought in your brain showing you the reflection of his dazed look, desires of wanting him to look at you that way all the time oh so skilfully infesting themselves into every crevice of your neocortex. You want Sunwoo to like you. You want Sunwoo to want you. You want Sunwoo to be so enchanted with your existence that he thinks about you before he goes to sleep at night– just like you have done for the past few weeks.

The answer comes to you again when you feel something wet fall on the top of your cheek, making you turn your eyes towards the sky. Your breathing comes out in puffs of air as you watch the magic happen right in front of you– and as you watch the snowflakes scatter all around the place, you are in another inner argument. While the rational side of your brain is screaming at you to keep walking to the station so you don’t miss your train home, the delirious side is cooperating with your feet for once, your figure crossing to the other side of the street and walking over to the place you could get to even with your eyes closed at this point; all because you suddenly remember the conversation you had with Sunwoo when you were putting on ornaments to the Christmas tree.

It’s the first snow of the season.

Kim Sunwoo loves it when it snows.

Speed-walking towards the vintage movie theater at the corner of the town’s square, you feel something akin to childish excitement bubbling in your insides, a hint of nervousness inviting itself into your insides when you push the door open and aim straight towards the ticket booth, where you know Sunwoo will be sitting, wasting another shift away.

He’s there– eyes pressed towards the window, gaze following the snowflakes kissing the cold ground. You expected more excitement in his character, more childlike joy in his figure– and after taking in his composure: shoulders slouching and fingers picking at the skin of his cuticles, you suddenly feel silly for coming.

Well, here goes nothing, you think.

“Sunwoo,” you call, making the boy snap his head towards you in surprise, big eyes meeting yours the moment he recognises your voice.

You don’t receive a verbal response for a while. The boy just stares at you, a bit hesitant and clueless. His face reminds you of a small puppy trying to take in the new situation in front of it. His lips are formed into a small pout, gears in his brain turning and trying to process the reality of having you standing there, face beaten from the cold.

Clearing your throat, you try to take charge of the situation. “It’s snowing outside,” you say, eyes peering out of the window, all thoughts suddenly escaping your brain, words blanking off your tongue, “and, well… you said you like the snow, so…”

The boy’s mouth hangs agape, a twinkle in his eyes slowly appearing once again when he stares at you, your nervousness doing wonders to your conversation skills. “I- I don’t even know what I wanted to say with that, it’s just- I don’t know… I saw it was snowing and I automatically came here, so-” you stutter, the sentence cutting off as Sunwoo jumps to his feet and grins, wordlessly taking your hand into his and dragging you outside.

The duffel bag falls off your shoulder somewhere in the middle of the hall, discarded to the floor, before Sunwoo sharply halts in his steps and runs back towards the ticket booth, still dragging you with him by the hand. The boy grabs something off the table, the item not visible in your rear point of view, and before you have a chance to register what’s happening, you’re outside of the building again, coldness instantly slapping you in the face.

It’s dark out, but the heaviness of the snow provides enough light in the silent evening for you to see where you’re going under the yellow lampposts on the street. Instantly noticing the lack of Sunwoo’s warm hand in yours when he suddenly lets go, you turn your head to look at the male.

Terror fills your veins when you notice him gathering snow from the ground and pressing it into a tight ball, a screech escaping your throat when you watch him swing it at you, a playful, boyish grin playing with his features. The male chases you around and most of the snowballs don't even hit your running figure (he does have an awful aim), but you still duck anyway and try your hardest to win your snowball fight.

Numb fingers creating snowballs and halting them at his tall frame, but missing most of the time due to his fast reflexes, you laugh and let go of all the worries and questions clouding your judgment. Sunwoo looks enthusiastic, so much more lively than when you found him in the ticket booth just a few minutes ago– but that’s still not enough for you to let him win.

Gathering the icy texture into your hands, you run towards him, taking advantage of his inattention as he’s bent over and taking more snow into his hold, and halt the whiteness into his face just as he straightens his back and wants to prepare for his attack.

More laughter bubbles out of your chest when you watch him drop his snowball to the ground, admitting defeat. The snow is all over his face– slowly running down his cheeks like teardrops, redness tinting his nose and the sides of his face.

The male shudders from the cold, and you instantly start feeling bad. Only now you realize that he ran out without a coat, a gasp escaping your throat. “Oh god,” you mourn, hands flying towards his frozen face to wipe off the snow from his cheeks, fingers carefully tracing over his cold skin. His eyes open as he watches you, something in his gaze so tender you feel yourself melting even in the middle of the snowstorm.

The male shuffles his hands into the front pocket of his gray hoodie, taking out the item you now recognise to be the hat you accidentally forgot in the projecting room yesterday (and already mentally paid goodbye to), his frozen fingers tugging the fabric onto your head.

“Why are you putting this on me? You’re the one that’s freezing over here!” you scold him, shaking your head at the male.

He rewards you with an amused grin, watching your next moves. Acting on auto-pilot, not really putting much thought into your actions, you unzip your jacket and step impossibly near to the male. Holding the jacket open, you hug him around his middle, making sure you are sharing the warmth with him and keeping him as close as possible, shielding him from the cold with both the fabric of your puffer jacket and the heat radiating off your body.

Faces just inches away from each other, you peer at his face. He wears a warm expression, eyes peeking out from behind his dark bangs. Clouds of breath escape his mouth when he speaks, voice quiet, as if to not ruin the atmosphere. “I thought you would regret it,” he says, making you break out into a foolish smile.

“I thought so too,” you nod.

“And you don’t?”

Shrugging, you reply. “Not really.”

“Why?” he asks, suddenly doubtful. “You said you hated me. Which was odd to hear, honestly, since I did all this to get your attention anyway and I thought it was just how our dynamic works, but… I could see how it could be annoying to you…”

Chuckling, you roll your eyes at the sudden revelation. It’s sickeningly sweet how endearing he looks when he doubts himself, explaining himself to you in a nervous blabber. “I don’t hate you. At least not anymore.”

“You don’t?”

“No,” you shake your head, a tender gaze shared between the two of you, “I actually quite like you, I think…” you mumble, a little bashful to admit it out loud.

“You do?” he asks, the twinkle in his eye glimmering twice as much as ever before, tone of voice playful, yet laced with honest joy and surprise at your confession.

“I do,” you nod, voice barely louder than a whisper as you watch him lean closer towards your face, cold nose bumping into yours before he angles his head, breath mixing in with yours in the few seconds before he dares to kiss you again, capturing your lips with his.

The kiss is sweet. The kiss tastes of strawberry mints and the first snow, of unsaid confessions and longing looks sent your way every time you weren’t looking. The kiss makes your stomach fill with a thousand little butterflies, it melts away the ice around you, the two of you like a spark of a fire in the middle of a snowy land.

His actions have your composure faltering, hands untangling from behind him and moving up to cradle his face. He melts under your touch, leaning into you as your fingers trail over his cheekbones. Holding on to him, thumbs padding his soft skin, you’re reminded of the cold only when he breaks off you and shudders again, teeth clattering from the freezing temperature.

“Let’s get you inside,” you say, planting a short peck to his lips, “before you turn into an icicle,” you giggle, watching as he scrunches up his face.

“I won’t,” he shakes his head, “love warms me up,” he grins, making you roll your eyes at his bold statement.

“You’re so cheesy.”

“But you quite like me anyways, no?”

Sighing, moving away from him and tugging him back inside the cinema, you shake your head at the boy. “I’ll think about it on my train home,” you bite back, opening the door to the theater and aiming towards the duffel bag you dropped on your way out.

Sunwoo watches you with a warm gaze, an adorable smile playing with his lips. His figure seems to be visibly taking in the heat again, his face adorning a flush, pink color.

“So I take it as you’re not quitting anymore, then?” he teases as you walk back to the door, both of you ignoring the customers waiting for their tickets in the line in front of the forgotten booth.

“We’ll see,” you shrug.

“I’ll text you the schedule for January?”

“You better text me about something else too, Kim Sunwoo,” you bark back, opening the door towards the cold landscape, “or you’re gonna have a very uncomfortable return back to work in January!”

The boy laughs, the noise like a Christmas carol to your ears. “Noted.”

Slipping outside, you watch as he waves at you goodbye, your feet dragging through the snow towards the train station having more pep to their step now. You don’t even know if you can make it to the train on time, but you surprisingly have no regrets– you can always catch the next one, right?

Mentally wanting to slap yourself for the lovesick grin playing with your lips, you sigh.

The male that once made your life a living hell is now the one you look forward to seeing the most once you come back after Christmas break. It’s kind of strange, really.

One would think that working with movies on the daily would prepare you better for the biggest plot twist of your life.

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greenwitchfromthewoods · 4 months ago

Text

a few words. l Joel Miller

Summary: words he didn't want you to hear

Warnings: angst, unpleasant conversation, they move away from each other

A/N: nothing special. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

Tommy looked at his brother as if he was seeing him for the first time in his life. He hadn't expected this and was slowly regretting that he had shown up at the stables with a few bottles of beer that evening.

"You can't be fucking serious." he finally said.

The man who was sitting on a haystack by the wall seemed exhausted. His brown eyes were fixed on the horse in the opposite stall, the bottle in his big hands still full of beer.

"You slept with her?" Joel looked at him surprised. "What? Simple question. Did you sleep with her or not?"

Joel shook his head. "No."

"But you wish you did."

He looked down, but he couldn't lie to someone who knew him so well. Of course he thought about it. Most often when he was alone in the dark bedroom. Memories of every kiss, tender touch, moments when he held you in his arms - all of these haunted him like ghosts.

He was furious because he wanted more. He wanted to be alive again, to feel again. But should he?

"Joel, you've known each other for years, you live together. Why are you messing with her head if you don't want anything to do with her?"

"It's not like that, Tommy..." his voice was tired, barely audible. "Everything's different with her."

"So why don't you want to give it a chance?" Tommy took a sip of beer. "I don't get it. If you want to be with her, then be. Tell her how you feel and..."

"I'm too old for this!" Joel snapped. "She deserves better, and I can't give it to her."

"Bullshit!" Tommy muttered.

There was silence for a moment. The distant noises of the city settling in for the night drifted through the open stable door. Tommy sat down next to his brother, resting his arms on his knees.

"She's a really nice girl," he said. "I see how she looks at you, cares about you and Ellie. Do you really want to break her heart like that?"

"She's tough."

"Yes, she is."

"Are you going out?"

You were just putting a thermos with a hot drink and a couple of sandwiches into your backpack, you didn't even look up when Joel went down to the kitchen in the morning.

"Yeah. I'm going on patrol." you answered.

Joel frowned. "Our turn is tomorrow."

"I swapped with Paul. He'll go with you. You two get along."

An unpleasant shiver ran down his spine, his heart sped up. The backpack was almost ready, and you didn't seem in the mood for long conversations.

"I'd rather go with you." he grumbled, coming closer and clenching his hands on the back of the chair.

"A change will do you good. It'll do us good too."

"Have you talked to Tommy about this?"

You slung your backpack over your shoulder and looked him in the eye for the first time. He saw something strange in that look. A mixture of sadness, anger, and some kind of severity. You hadn't looked at him like that before.

"You'll probably talk to him yourself, right?" you said "I think..." your voice broke for a moment, but you quickly got back on track. "I think when I get back I'll ask Maria to find me another place to live."

"W-What? Why?"

"We both know why."

You adjusted your backpack and left the house. The world you had built had just collapsed.

"What the fuck was I supposed to do?"

"You could have not let her go!"

"She's an adult, Joel! She came last night, said she had already talked to Paul. I couldn't say no to her." Tommy put the crate in the storage room and looked at Joel.

He could see that his brother was furious and distraught. You usually went on patrols together, Joel didn't like you going out alone. Although he knew you would manage, he didn't fully trust others. Now he had completely lost control over anything.

Tommy looked at him with pity. "I think she must have heard us yesterday. Maria saw her in town, she was upset. Then she showed up at our place. I didn't ask, it's none of my business."

"You could have stopped her." Joel repeated quietly.

"And you could have kept her with you. But you chose not to."

He could.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist

#joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader

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neeeooon · 11 days ago

Note

WHATS UP CHAT 🔥🔥🔥🔥

I have spawned in w/ a bllk request, you can ignore it if u don’t have time or energy— Can we get bllkers w/ an s/o who plays handball as a goalie, but decides to play goalie for them to help practice their shooting skills in soccer? If that makes sense 🧍‍♀️ (bonus points if reader is injury prone)

yessss WASSUP 🔥🔥🔥 (sorry this took so long) TY FOR THE REQUEST 🤍

when you play goalie for them

bf bllk x gn!goalie reader. yn is injury prone

isagi yoichi

-> isagi was actually really scared to ask you to practice with him. he knew you used to play with your siblings and that you weren’t necessarily a fan, but he really wanted to practice his shooting

-> “are you free to help me shoot some? you don’t have to! i just need a goalie..” you aren’t very excited by his request, but you know how much this means to him. so, you smile and say, “screw it! let’s play.”

-> though you’re clumsy and injury-prone, you’re used to powering through. isagi is not. the first block has you on the ground, and when you stand, he sees your scraped up knees and panics. “y/n! shit, i forgot knee pads!”

-> “don’t need ‘em,” you shrug him off. “now, we gonna play or not? cause right now it’s 1-0 in my favor.”

kunigami rensuke

-> “okay, i’m gonna shoot now!” “you don’t have to tell me every time you take a shot, kunigami!”

-> he still did it anyway, knowing you’re injury-prone. he’d feel so awful if you got hurt doing something he asked

-> however, while you did get hurt, it was entirely your fault. he kicked a ball that was technically out, but you weren’t paying attention and jumped for it… slamming headfirst into the top of the metal goal

-> you dropped like a bag of flour, heads cradling your scalp as your boyfriend ran over. “y/n! i’m not laughing at you, i promise.” “you are >:(“ “how is that even possible, babe?”

niko ikki

-> “um, y/n?” you rolled over to face your boyfriend, who was sitting awkwardly in your desk chair. “yeah, niko?” “would you be willing to play goalie for me..? so i can practice my shots?”

-> you lit up. “you want me to help you?” “if you don’t mind..—“ “say less!!”

-> he should have know better. you should have know better. but the first shot niko took toward the goal, you dove forward and blocked it with your face :)

-> “ow.” “y/n!!! oh no, you’re bleeding!” you ended practice early that day

bachira meguru

-> you used to play goalie for your little brothers, who loved soccer growing up. they weren’t as dedicated as bachira, but you had enough experience with their shots to not be completely useless in the goal

-> you were actually doing pretty good the first dozen shots or so. he made most, but you were able to block quite a bit!

-> and then he tried a new dribbling technique to trick you, and boy did you fall for it

-> your feet followed his, and when he spun to take the shot, you got tangled up and went down hard, twisting your ankle in the process. “ow!” you cried, freaking bachira out. “y/n! wait, how?” “don’t laugh, you little ankle demon!”

nagi seishiro

-> “reo’s out of town with his family for business, and he left me strict instructions to keep you practicing!” nagi is not impressed. of course his best friend would recruit his partner to bother him even while he’s in another country

-> you have to drag your boyfriend out of his dorm, but once you tell him that you’ll be playing with him, he comes a bit easier

-> it was easy blocking for nagi at first because he wasn’t putting any effort behind his shots. they rolled to you, some stopping completely before reaching the goal

-> you propped your hands on your hips and raised a brow at him. “that’s the best you can do? come on, you big baby—!” a shot flew by your head, and you instinctively threw a hand up to smack it away. you felt your wrist twist under impact and clutched it to your chest. “okay.. you win.”

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moonshapedbox · 18 days ago

Text

swan shaped heart — part two

arthur morgan x preacher’s daughter

a/n: OMG where do i begin…first off thank u all sm for all love chapter one received i’m truly so touched!!! this is the first fanfic i’ve ever posted in my life so it means a lot!!! also sorry it took so long to complete part 2, college has been beating my ass as of lately. trying to update semi regularly but we’ll see!! its still extremely self indulgent though once again bc i’m working lots of things out in my life rn that i think arthur can fix. you can read chapter one here <3

tags: lots of fluff and romantic tension :D hint of age gap, kissing, no smut but fairly suggestive, arthur is kind of mischievous, angsty in some parts if u squint, religious themes throughout obviously, no use of y/n (I wrote in 3rd person hehe), no blasphemy bc i’m religious <3 reader is in her twenties. read at ur own risk.

wc: 5.9k

part two – peaches

“You still coming to the picnic?”

Her words reverberated in his ears like tinnitus. He arrived back at his lodging to grab a few things he forgot, throwing and shoving items into his saddlebags. Was he going to the picnic? That’s all she had to say? He looked up at the sky again, the sun barely cracking up the pale blue sky, humidity in the air from the previous day's rain was suffocating.

Truly, he hadn’t decided yet if he was going to change his mind about it all. It was no mistake, the preacher’s daughter stirred up things in him he hadn’t felt for years. It was foolish to attend, he kept reminding himself of that. He needed to get back to camp, there was his own folks to take care of and business to attend to. Dutch was probably in the middle of some half baked scheme that he concocted to have Arthur lead in, John and Abigail were most likely arguing and needed a mediator, and there was the other women, Hosea, and little Jack.

So was he going to the picnic? It was something he would have to ponder on his way back to camp.

For the preacher’s daughter, things were shifting. Big changes and waves of emotion had shaped her irrevocably since that morning. She sat in the pews, front row like always, but for once she wasn’t really listening to her father’s sermon. She wouldn’t nod along to what he was saying, or open her Bible to turn to the verse and chapter he referred to. Instead, her eyes found a place to gaze over and bore a hole into it with her vision, mind wandering off to Arthur. The only times she was brought back was by her mother, who would gently yet lovingly tap her on the knee, to get her attention, silently gesturing to listen to her father. She would continue her days like normal, but completely enamored by Arthur, what he said, what he did–or lack thereof.

A couple of days later– the annual town picnic had finally reared its vague and complicated head. Typically, the picnic was always an event that she had always been enamored with. She looked forward to it every spring– her hand would be the first to raise when asked about volunteers or who should be in charge of planning the event, but now; the idea of going made uneasiness twist in her stomach. The thought of Arthur being there is all that mattered to her, although with their awkward and incomplete farewell, she didn’t know where she stood in his eyes.

The picnic was a lively affair, with almost the whole town participating in the activities. The crowd gathered outside the church where it was being held, enjoying the food and each other’s company. The warm spring breeze picked up the light atmosphere and covered everyone’s spirits with joy. There was music and dancing and lots of laughter. While the preacher’s daughter was usually the one to be in the crowd, socializing with fellow townsfolk– she found herself dismayed, as she sat on the steps of the church, knees pressed to her chest and a weary look staining her face.

“You gonna eat something dear?” her father’s voice broke her out of her trance, “Your mama made that chicken salad you like.” She sees him getting closer and shakes her head, “I’m not very hungry Papa.” she lays her head on her knees. The preacher walks up to her and observes his daughter, before sighing and sitting next to her. “Want to tell me what’s going on? You barely spoke a word all day, hardly participated on Sunday..”

She sighs and hesitates to say anything before continuing, “Remember how I told you Mr. Morgan stopped by the house the other morning? He found my necklace.”

“Yes, it was kind of him,” Her father blinks and nods, “Is this somehow relevant as to why you've been such a sourpuss lately?”

She opened her mouth but then stopped before she could start her sentence. She realized that if she were to tell him exactly what happened—it meant that she would have to tell him everything that took place in the kitchen that morning—the touching, the lewd remarks, and worst of all— she had her innocent and dainty fingers in some strange man’s mouth. This would most certainly kill her father, so she finds a way around it.

“Well, I feel like I might have offended him and I feel bad about it…that’s all.” she explains, it technically wasn’t a lie, a small pang of relief hitting her chest.

“What could you have possibly said that could offend him, dear?” her father asks, sincere in his words, genuinely wanting to make his daughter feel better. For her, this was the tricky part, trying to find the words without saying anything at all, “I told him he needed to leave…because I had things to do that day.”

Technically a lie, technically the truth. It was a moral dilemma she’d contemplate later.

“Aw, is that it?” he gives her a sympathetic smile, “Oh don’t even fret about it I’m sure he’s alright. Honestly, it says more about him if he took offense to a sweet ol’ thing like you.” He lovingly pinches her cheek and plants a kiss on top of her head, before rising to his feet, “You’ve always had a problem being in your own head too much sweetheart.” She nods in agreement, wanting the conversation to end, “I guess so. Thank you papa.”

A voice calls out to her father, interrupting their conversation. He looks over to the source of where the voice came from. He pats her on the back before walking off to greet more of his congregation that decided to stop by. Maybe her father was right, perhaps she was in her head too much. Of course, her father did not have the context like she did, but this false sense of reassurance passed the time well.

She continues to think about what Arthur said.

“Ever think about a man lovin’ on you baby?”

She is now. Arthur planted the seeds of desire in her, and the roots that grew traveled up her veins and made her heart race. She couldn’t get him out of her head no matter how hard she tried. She looks to the farthest distance she can, wondering what he was doing right now– what he was wearing and what path he was travelling. Far out, she notices a brown figure moving at a rapid pace, her eyes narrow. It’s just a horse– a beautiful one at that; a deep chestnut brown. Her gaze softened as it got closer in view, she noticed the horse had a splash of white on its nose– with a man mounted on top.

Her head lifts from her lap, was that him? It couldn’t be–or it could. She squints a bit harder, waiting for the man to come closer. She leans forward in her lap, eventually standing on the steps. She could recognize that gambler’s hat from anywhere.

It was him, Arthur had come back.

“Mr. Morgan!” she runs to him and looks up at him on his horse, “You made it.” she smiles. He gets off his horse and secures it, “Of course. Why would I not be here? You invited me.” he responds flatly, not caring to make eye contact with her.

She looks down and back up again, “I know but that was before…” she reads his face, pausing an explanation to feel out if he knew what she was implying, “Listen, Mr. Morgan, about the other morning, I–”

“No need darlin’,” he puts his hand out before dropping it to his side, “I understand,” He puts his weight on one hip. “I was planning on headin’ back, and I–uh made it halfway, then I got to thinkin’…” he pauses while scanning her features for a moment, “And I came off a little strong. I realize that now. Didn’t mean to frighten you if I did.” he looks down at his boots, still caked with mud from the rainstorm days ago.

She gingerly touched his hand, “All is forgiven, Mr. Morgan.” He looks up at her under the brim of his hat, and she swears she can see a hint of a smile and a smudge of red grace on his cheek.

So can her horrified father, who had been watching the interaction between the potential lovebirds from a distance the whole time. A worrisome dread sunk in him as he decided to make his presence known. He hurries toward them before calling out,

“Mr. Morgan! That you, son?”

Arthur whips his head back around, “Father! —uh reverend—shit”

“Wrong denomination son” he chuckles, loosening his tie. “I also would appreciate you to refrain from using profanity around my daughter. She’s a impressionable young lady y’know”

“Of course. Sorry, sir.” Arthur flashed a sheepish grin, before realizing he hadn’t shook the preacher’s hand yet. Out of respect he extends his hand, and they lock into a strong handshake. A pang of guilt hit Arthur, here he was shaking the man of the Lord’s hand when not even two days ago he was all over this man’s only daughter, in his own kitchen nonetheless.

“I invited Mr. Morgan to the picnic, figured he might want to visit a little more before he leaves.” she explains, innocently swaying her hips, giving her skirt a little movement as she rocked side to side.

“I can see that dear,” The preacher smiles at his daughter before shoving his hands into his pockets and trying to make friendly conversation. Anything to try and keep Arthur from sweeping his daughter off her feet, “So, how’s that cattle ranch of yours, son?”

Cattle ranch? Oh right, that was the story he pitched the town initially. It was the perfect small lie given the circumstance. The cattle rancher to save the town from cattle thieves, you couldn’t write a better story. “Just fine. Hard work. You know how it is. Cattle can be…temperamental.”

Stupid stupid stupid. He was bombing this and he knew it was over the second the words left his mouth. He grimaced in his mind at the interaction.

“Right,” the preacher drawls the word, trying to detect any honesty in Arthur’s claim, “Well regardless of your business, we’re glad you could join us,” he says, tone friendly but his words having an edge to them.

She smiles, “We got plenty of food why don’t we eat–”

“I thought you weren’t hungry?” her father whips his head to look at her.

She flashes a half smile, “Well I am now, ‘sides I don’t want to be rude and not eat in front of our guest, papa.”

Her father looked between two, he knew exactly what was happening and he didn’t like it one bit. He had no reason to be distrustful of Arthur, after all he did save his town from that reckless gang, but something wasn’t right. Although, to save his beloved daughter from embarrassment, he decided to play along– for now.

The eating and socializing made time fly by, Arthur enjoyed the peaceful and innocent fun with everyone, it made him forget about all his stress and worries for a couple of hours. He smiled along to a song played on a mandolin, he listened to her fill him in on all the local happenings that occurred while he was away, she clung onto his bicep as he won a couple games of dominoes against the shopkeeper, and before either of them knew it– the sun was starting to set. Arthur sat next to her at the picnic table, enjoying the sounds of soft conversations in the distance, but mostly he enjoyed her company. He exhaled deeply and looked over at her, “Let’s take a quick stroll, whaddya say?” She looked back at him, “That sounds lovely, but the sun is setting…I don’t know…”

“And?” He stands up and stretches up as tall as he can, she looks over his huge, broad frame growing taller as he pulls upward, her heart skips a beat at the sight of his muscles moving under his shirt as he shifts around. “You’ll be safe with me, let’s go girl.” he motions with his head and grabs his satchel. His sudden firm tone made her pulse quicken, not fully understanding why she liked it as much as she did.

Eventually, she and Arthur wander off into the path into a nearby trail, enough daylight to see where they were going as well as the beauty of the mountainous region, she looks up at him, his face concentrated on where they were headed.

“So where you takin’ me?” she asks.

“Nowhere in particular, unless you got somethin’ in mind,” he responds as he adjusts the weight of his satchel. She thinks for a moment and a bright smile spreads across her face, “I got an idea, there’s a lake nearby, it’s so beautiful. You’ll love it I promise.”

“Okay, the lake it is then,” he nods. Despite not speaking a word to each other, she smiled to herself that she was finally getting to spend more time with him like she always dreamed of. “Whatcha smilin’ ‘bout?” Arthur’s voice broke the prolonged silence. She shook her head, “Nothin’. Just having fun that’s all.” Arthur smiles back at her, “That reminds me, I almost forgot somethin’,” he stops in his tracks and she follows his lead.

“I know you’re supposed to bring somethin’ for a picnic and I didn’t know what to bring but–,” he reaches into his messenger bag and pulls out a can, “hope you like it.”

She grins with playful confusion, “A can of….” she tries to examine the can further, the text on the label rubbed off almost completely, “...peaches?” She walks slowly alongside him, still looking down at the can.

He nods, “You like peaches, hon?” strolling in tandem alongside her.

“Yeah, I like ‘em even better in pies though,” she responds.

“Peach pie?” He raises a brow, “I ain’t ever had that before…apple, yes. But peach? That’s a new one.”

“Oh I gotta make you one then. They’re real easy.” she says before letting a beat of silence encompass them.

She exhales an airy chuckle, “Reminds me of the time when Papa took me to a preacher’s convention in Saint Denis – well more like I begged him to take me– but anyway while I was there I had a peach pie with ice cream. Ice cream of all things, can you believe it?” she grins brightly, “They call it peach a la mode, isn’t that brilliant? Makes me feel sophisticated” she rambles, her hands gesticulating for emphasis.

He scoffs, “So that’s what rich folks are eatin’ huh? They can’t be ok with pie itself they gotta go add ice cream on it too.” he muttered, gesturing broadly as they strolled down the path together. She laughs loudly, “You’re a silly man Mr. Morgan… Ain’t seen a person upset with ice cream before.” He shook his head, he wasn’t trying to make her laugh, but it was like a symphony to his ears.

“Was it good?” His question broke the beat of silence.

“Hm?”

“The peach el mood?” he motions.

She bursts out laughing again, “A la mode? Definitely, it was divine.”

There it was again–he smiles lovingly at the sound of her laugh.

“You might have to make that for me too,” he grins and shoves his hands in his pockets.

The sound of both them walking down to the lake absorbed any beat of silence that could have been there. The crunching of gravel beneath their feet and sound of birds chirping accompanied their walk. Arthur picked up rocks he thought were compelling enough to shove into his jacket pocket. He picks up another rock and fidgets with it, and glances over at her for a second, eyes trailing down to her slightly exposed sternum which cradled that heavenly swan pendant necklace.

“You like swans, huh?” he inquired, throwing the rock like a skipping stone. “Why swans? And not like– I don't know a dove or somethin’.”

“A dove? That’s awfully cliche don’t you think?” she smirks. They finally make it to the lake. Seeing a big tree log that somehow found itself at the base of the lake, they both take a seat there. Arthur shrugs at her previous comment and adjusts next to her.

“I just like ‘em that’s all. Y’know it’s said that swans represent beauty, grace, wisdom. I think it’s a good symbol to look upon. It’s always been quite reassuring to me.” she places the can of peaches she had been holding down onto the ground.

“Ah, so it’s your lucky charm?” he grinned.

She waves him off, “Oh Mr. Morgan, I don’t believe in luck,” she looks out into the lake, “To tell you the truth, for as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to see a swan in the wild. I’m holdin’ out for hope I’ll get see one.”

“You will someday, I’m sure.” He looked over at her peaceful demeanor, his heart felt so warm just by being in her presence. The realization that all he wanted was to be with her overcame him. As it came, a familiar thick and oily guilt suddenly swallowed him upon the thought that he hadn't been exactly truthful with her. Quite frankly, he was a liar– lied about what he did for a living, lied about the true nature of his arrival 4 years ago, the lies started to collapse on his throat. If he was even to consider a life with her in it, he had to tell her everything– there was no cattle ranch, the only money he had technically didn’t belong to him, he was originally going to rob her town– that he is an outlaw.

He wanted to make this work, he lost so much in his life already that he knew she was an opportunity of genuine love and care. Surely enough, someone so loving and forgiving like her would be able to handle his baggage, right? If not, he was willing to put it all on the line anyway. He rubs his jaw and exhales a breath before speaking.

“Look darlin’, there’s something I need to tell you–”

“--You gotta girl ain’t you?” she interrupts flatly.

He exhales a laugh, “No, I ain’t got a girl. Not for a long time at least,” taken aback by her boldness, he continues to chuckle to himself.

“Why are you laughin’? It’s not that much of an odd assumption to make. You’re handsome and smart and you got that big cattle ranch so it’s not crazy to assume gals wouldn’t be all over you–”

“You think I’m handsome?” he whipped his head to look at her, his cheeks warmed at the compliment, trying to hide the surprise in his voice as he never truly felt comfortable or confident with himself.

“Stop it, you know what I meant,” she blushes, “I’m just sayin’ you’re a catch, that’s all.” He continues to smile at her bashful ramblings, shaking his head at her behavior. A sense of mischief creeps up in his mind, and he couldn’t help but entertain it, “Anyways, why ain’t you married yet? I’d figure some young buck would come sniffin’ ‘round after you as soon as you got to marryin’ age.” he asks, watching her put a hand over her face.

“Very classy Mr. Morgan, you’re a real gentleman,” she groans, resting her head in her hand, “I don’t know. I don’t like any of the men at my church. They’re…stupid.”

“How so? Despite the obvious,” he inquires.

She exhales and tries to think of the words to articulate how she feels, “It seems they want me barefoot and pregnant and that life–” she pauses, “I don’t believe that’s what God intended for me. It’s not my path." She picked up a stick and started tracing patterns on the dirt.

“What’s your path then?” His heart softens at the conviction in her tone.

She hesitates for a moment, scared that he would judge her for passions. He nods at her, “You know you can tell me anythin’ darlin’” he says softly, wanting to know what was in that beautiful mind of hers.

She exhales again, “If I may be so bold– I want to preach,” the tension leaving her body after she confessed, “and I want real love– but I don’t know if I’m the marryin’ kind… I think if I met the right man, I’d marry. But only a man that would let me be free…I don’t think I’ll ever find that Mr. Morgan.”

I could be that. If you allowed me to. He thought to himself, but he was not brave enough to voice it. Instead, he gives her a sympathetic smile.

“Ah.” he said softly, before crossing his shin over his thigh.

“You don’t think I can do it huh?” she murmurs, kicking her feet mindlessly against the stump of the tree. His brows furrowed at her accusation, “No I do, I think you can. Hell I met a lot gals who fight for stuff like that,” he gesticulates, “I could picture you doin’ it.” he smiles.

She suddenly remembers what he said at breakfast the other morning: “If I was guaranteed you’d be the one preachin’ then maybe I’d start goin’ to church.”

She grins to herself at the thought, “Hey, if I preach does that means you’ll start comin’ to church.”

Arthur scoffs playfully, “Is that so? Who said anythin’ ‘bout that?”

“You said it yourself at breakfast!” she lets out an airy chuckle.

Arthur shakes his head before leaning in closer to her, “Well…that ain't what I meant by that, so we’re just gon’ have to see. Aren’t we?” he smirks. She looks over his face, blush reddening her ears. The moment was so perfect, he wanted to bask in its tranquility. The opportunity to tell her the truth about his livelihood was fleeting and before he knew it, it was gone. He couldn’t get it back and he hoped that soon he could find another opening. An opening that was perfect and would hurt her the least.

She breaks her gaze and looks down at the can of peaches beside her, “Well, I don’t know about you but I could go for a little sweet.” She leans over to pick up the can. He gazes her over body while she wasn’t looking, staring at the soft curves of her body and before stealing a prolonged glance of her rear, “Yep–somethin’ sweet would be real good right about now,” he hums, trying to hide the growl in the back of his throat. She sits back up again and hands him the can of peaches for him to open. The act of him stabbing the top with his knife and prying it open made her feel warm. He passes the can back to her, letting her have the first bite. She scoops a piece up and crams it into her mouth before the juice drips on her dress.

“Mmph, really good!” she exclaims while still chewing, “Where did you get these–” his hand cuts off her sentence as he wipes away a small droplet of juice from the corner of her mouth. She stops immediately, gazing back at him. A pang of excitement reverberates in the pit of her stomach. It was biscuits and gravy on Sunday all over again.

He smiles softly back at her without a second thought, before taking a piece of the fruit out for himself. She watches him eat the slice of peach, briefly sucking the excess juice off his fingers. So messy and desperate–something about watching him eat like a feral animal sparked a need in her so deep that she abruptly whips her head away just to attempt to hide it.

Although, these were not new feelings she was having: not before he filled her imagination with salacious ideas, not before he lovingly stroked her chin or accompanied her to the picnic– it started just before breakfast on Sunday morning, with her finger in his mouth. Although Arthur was no fool–oh the contrary, he could hone in on this like a falcon. The memory of her fingers in his mouth would plague him at all times. He decides it was ultimately time to break the tension.

“Honey you can’t tell me that having your fingers in my mouth ain’t done something to you. You haven’t been able to look at me the same since,” a growl in his voice reverberates in him, trying to keep his urges in line.

“What?” she swallows thickly. “I-I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Yes you do. Don’t be coy.” He places the can next to him and turns his body toward her, “I know that’s how you was raised– to be ashamed of it. But you can’t go denyin’ these feelings forever.”

“It’s not like that…I’m not ashamed. I-I’m not.” she stammers. Arthur frowns, he can see right through her walls.

“Then why’re you always shakin’ like a damn near leaf whenever I get ‘round you?” he questions.

“I don’t know.” She murmurs, her shoulders going limp in defeat. He gazes back at her wilted expression before reaching out and gently cradling her hand, “Y’know darlin...people lovin’ on each other, ain’t nothin’ wrong with that,” softly tracing patterns on the back of her palm, “It’s beautiful, really.” She gazes up into his eyes, her heart rate picking up at the sight of him being so close to her. He scans her face before glancing down at her slightly parted lips.

“Mr. Morgan?” she whispers.

“Mhm?”

“Are you gonna kiss me?”

“Do you want me to, baby?” He whispers back.

She stares up into his eyes and nods ever so softly. A genuine and loving smile spreads across his face. He inhales gently, before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. As he gently cups her jaw in his right hand, he leans down, and before he realizes, she instinctively turns her head away. “I’m scared” her voice barely above a murmur, “ain’t never done this before.”

He couldn’t deny that the idea of being her first kiss made his pulse quicken, and as guilty as he felt, he also couldn’t deny her naivety turned him on beyond belief. Of course, part of him also felt bad for being her first kiss. He thought to himself that she deserved a better man, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted this just as bad as she did.

“Well what do you know ‘bout it?” He strokes her hair gently.

“Nothin’ much…just what I've read in those dime store romance novels.” she murmurs, somewhat embarrassed at her inexperience. He tenderly strokes her cheek with his thumb, “Shh it’s okay sweetheart. Just relax and let me lead– can you do that for me?” he whispers lovingly.

She nods and instinctively closes her eyes, he tilts her head up and leans in to press a warm and tender kiss on her lips– even softer than he ever imagined them to be. He kisses her again, and again, before pausing and gazing lovingly into her eyes. He wishes he could live in this moment forever, “You okay so far?” He murmurs against her lips, softly nodding at her, she nods back. The mix of her orange and vanilla perfume catching in the slightly smoky and chill dusk air is intoxicating to him.

He leans back down he kisses her again, but this one was different. It was longer and deeper than the one from before, he deepened the kiss even further for a moment, working his fingers through her hair. Both of their heartbeats rise in tandem, she leans against his chest and places a hand on his thick thigh, trying to find balance against him. Something that could be acquainted with electricity pulses in her stomach, never truly realizing a sensation could feel so good. His tongue grazes her lip and she softly gasps at the feeling. Surely the taste of his lips would sear into her mouth for eternity, smoky and something that was attributed to only him. His lips still sweetened from the nectar of the peaches they consumed together, now all she wanted was to consume him.

He pulls away and rests his forehead against hers, panting softly. “Arthur,” she exhales gently, her breath fanning his neck. The ease of his first name leaving her tongue made goosebumps rise on the back of his neck and arms. His hands still tangled in her hair, making their way down to rest on her shoulders, “My sweet babydoll, so so perfect.” he whispers.

He plants a soft yet firm kiss on her cheek and back to her lips again. She sinks into his arms. She feels so safe yet, a sensation akin to lead creeps in and weighs her soul, an anchor of remorse that makes her stomach drop. Without second thought, she pulls away from the kiss and cries. Fear spikes in Arthur’s chest at the sight of tears rolling off her supple cheeks, “Oh no no no baby, what happened? Did I do something wrong?” he panics, terrified he hurt her or crossed a boundary he wasn’t aware of.

It truly wasn’t anything he did, she really didn’t know why she was crying. Truthfully, she was overwhelmed with feelings and emotions that she didn’t know how or what to do with. The way he gently cared for comfort and boundaries touched her beyond words or actions, she never felt so loved by another man before. Was this love that she was feeling? She didn’t know what to make of it all– and it scared the hell out of her.

“No…I don’t think so…W-we shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry,” her lip continues to quiver and tears roll down and drop into her lap. His heart twists in chest at her words, his mouth partly open from bewilderment, “Stop it. You don’t mean that,” he murmurs, “Tell me what’s going on darlin’.”

She cries again and the sight chisels away at his heart, “I-I don’t know…you did nothin wrong. I just ain’t ever felt like this before,” she reaches up to fidget with her swan pendant necklace once more. He knew exactly what was going on. She was touch starved-- it was years of pent up and repressed romantic desire that was finally boiling over– for the first time in her life, she was finally starting to learn how to love romantically.

He gives her another sympathetic smile and pulls her into his big arms, “S’okay angel, ain’t no shame in what we did,” he breathes. “It’s all new, I got it. We’ll go slower.” After a moment, she stops crying and pulls away, feeling a bit embarrassed. He can see the crimson spread across her cheeks, “I’m sorry Arthur. I don’t know what came over me.”

He shakes his head and strokes her hair, “Don’t worry ‘bout it baby, I was just scared I did somethin’ wrong,” he pauses, “or you didn’t like it.” Her eyes widen in realization, “Oh, no not at all! I liked it a lot…maybe too much.” she softly responds, her words carry an edge of caution.

“Yeah?” he smiles, tongue darting out just enough to wet his bottom lip. She nods in return, whispering a ‘thank you’ before giving him small kiss on the cheek to reinforce it.

She looks up at the sky, the sun finally tucking itself behind the mountain, “We need to get back to the picnic now. My parents are probably waitin’ for me,” she stands and fixes her dress.

Arthur nods and rises to his feet. “I’ll walk you back, hm?”

She nods and waits for him, "Arthur?"

He perks up at his name as he starts to walk with her, she looks down at her feet, "Once again, I'm really sorry I cried.” she replies softly, feeling humiliated by her reaction, "I really do like your company."

“No need to apologize, I got you girl," his big hand cradles the small of her back as they walk back to the church together, " 'Sides, we got plenty time to practice anyway. Get you more comfortable." He grins. She smiles at the thought, deciding to fill the silence again with small talk.

“Wasn’t the lake beautiful?” she asks.

“Y’know I couldn’t see it too well. Got distracted by somethin’ else.” he smiles to himself.

The sun had set by the time they got back, the picnic had been over for a while now, and there was no one in the church. So Arthur decided to walk her back to her house. He didn’t realize that they were gone for that long– his stomach dropped when they finally arrived at her home, seeing the preacher, sitting on his porch whilst rocking back and forth in his rocking chair. He and Arthur share a look, before he springs up at the sight of the two. He makes his way down the porch steps.

“Papa we–”

“Get in the house young lady.” he ordered firmly yet calmly.

“Papa please don’t be mad we were just walking around and–”

“I’m not…mad...just do what I say and go inside.”

She looks up at Arthur and nods before scurrying away, mouthing a goodbye to him as her boots clunked against the porch steps. Arthur’s blood pressure rises as he tries to de-escalate the situation, “I ain’t mean no harm sir– we really was just walkin’ and talkin’.”

The preacher shook his head in disapproval, “Y’know, I’m really disappointed in you son. See, I gave you the benefit of the doubt that you had pure intentions here– especially with my only daughter around, but I guess I was a fool.” Arthur glares under the brim of his gambler’s hat, narrowing his eyes at the preacher, “What you mean by that exactly?”

“Don’t play dumb, boy…I see the way you been lookin’ at her.” he says with an accusatory tone. Arthur cocks his head to the side, “And what way is that?” he responds, feigning innocence.

The preacher shakes his head and breathes a humorless chuckle in disbelief of Arthur’s pretend innocence, “--Like a dog licking its chops for a bite of somethin’ he shouldn’t have.”

Ah. Of course…

Arthur exhales a chuckle, “Well sir– If I was, I would have already taken a bite by now, if that’s what you’re implyin’.” he smirks and pats him on the shoulder twice, before walking off. The statement makes the preacher’s blood boil, “I ain’t stupid! I been your age before! You stay away from her, you hear me boy?!” he calls out to Arthur.

He whips his head around and saunters back to the preacher, “Y’know your lil girl ain’t gonna be yours forever. She’s a beautiful young woman and men are lookin’ at her different now,” he leans in closer, “Now you got a decision to make. ‘Cause one of these days some man is gon’ come along for her, and I can bet you anythin’ he’s gon’ be worse than me,” there’s an edge to Arthur’s voice that alerts the preacher, but he would never give Arthur the satisfaction of seeing him buckle. He stares blankly back at him.

Arthur nods slowly, “You can think about that when you say your prayers tonight,” he turns to walk away, looking to the right of him to catch a glimpse of her bedroom window, hoping to see her one last time. He chuckles to himself, before calling back to her father.

“'Night, preacher man.”

thank u for reading thus far !!! once again thank u for all the support it means the world. taglist is currently open so lemme know if u wanna be added <3

taglist 🏷️ @dilf-luvr-4evr @joelsprettyprincess @i-will-give-you-love @necktattooed

#i think i proofread it okay i'm tired of rereading it bc im starting to overthink now #also sorry i keep using food as plot device it will happen again #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 community #— rinnie writes ♡

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mujeans · 6 months ago

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MY ONLY LOVE, MY ONLY ONE ✦ LCY

SYNOPSIS ✦ you and anton’s relationship through the years - because maybe not all love has to be young.

“if we’re both still single by the time we’re thirty , let’s get married.”

TAGS ✦ anton x f!reader, one-shot, angst, fluff, non-idol au, yn has mommy issues, slice of life, bffs to lovers, slow-burn

WARNINGS ✦ mentions of drinking at a bar, reader isn't really referred to as y/n or _, just "you" 😭

WC ✦ 4k

PLAYLIST ✦ only by leehi, still into you by paramore, every summertime by niki, toothbrush by dnce, bad by wavetoearth

AUTHOR'S CORNER ✦ was originally meant for heeseung, but i changed it lolz also ik i said i'd post it in a few days but i finished it early and wanted to put it out so i hope u enjoy!

snobby, proud, self-centered - these were the words that described anton's first impression of you.

he'd just moved to town, tagging along with his parents to the local mall when his mother stopped in her tracks, causing him to nearly walk into her. he looked at her confusedly when she suddenly gasped, and squealed someone's name, before she practically ran up to another woman, who he'd soon find out to be your own mother.

"guys, this is my old friend from college," she'd told him and his dad. "and this is her daughter," she said as she gestured to you.

you'd been few inches taller than him, so he was intimidated by you and immediately got the impression you were looking down on him. (well, you were, literally.)

"why don't you two kids go to the arcade? here, my daughter has a game card," your mother spoke as she ushered you two away whilst the adults went somewhere else to catch up. anton and you awkwardly stood next to each other as the parents left you two alone.

once they were out of sight, you seemed to deflate; the intimidating aura wiped and replaced by a more relaxed and amicable ‘you’. somehow, you felt more human, and he let out his own steady breath when you smiled and held out your hand for him to shake.

“sorry, my mother can be a lot to handle. you play DDR?”

turns out, you were way more fun when your mother wasn’t around.

holding hands was something you two did often.

your friends would often tease you two about it, but neither you nor anton thought much of it. it was completely platonic, right?

but nonetheless, you two were relentlessly asked if you were dating, even when one or the other was in a relationship with someone else. in fact, your closeness had led to your first and most recent boyfriend breaking up with you.

"can you believe it? everyone knows we're literally just friends," you ranted to anton later that night. "so what if we're close? he himself had his own girl best friend - several in fact!"

anton hummed to let you know he was listening, busy working on an assignment that he'd spent far too long procrastinating.

"i mean, how insecure can he be? is it really that unbelievable for a boy and a girl to have a completely platonic relationship?" you paced around his room, not caring whether or not he was listening. you just needed to get the day's frustrations out - and where better than anton's comfy and personalised room?

something about the hanging leaves, band posters, the warm lamp in the corner lighting up the room, it was your favourite place to hide when your mother would be in another one of her moods.

"i'm never going to date again. ugh."

"you sure about that?" anton half-heartedly asked.

"yes. if i have to sacrifice our friendship to kiss some guy, then no thanks."

anton turned to you with a smile playing at his lips. he didn't take you seriously at all.

"anton..." you whined. this wasn't funny to you.

"sorry, sorry," he said, but you could still hear the laugh in his voice. instead, he took your hands in his apologetically, the warmth a familiar gesture.

"if you never date again, then i won't either."

"anton, you've never dated."

"well, it's like you said. if i have to sacrifice our friendship to kiss some girl, then it's a no for me too."

he stared at you sincerely. you guys knew you both would probably still go on to date other people, but the promise felt real anyway. what with the way he was staring up at you.

"swearing yourself to celibacy for me? how sweet," you relented, sitting down on his bed, your hands still clasped in his.

suddenly, an idea popped into your head.

using your linked hands to pull him closer, his chair rolled over, knocking against your knees.

"anton, let's make a pact: if we're still both single by the time we're thirty, then let's get married."

graduation came faster than anton expected, and he only realises then that he's known you for five years now.

as expected, you and him had taken lots of photos together (wait, when did he get taller than you?), and eventually your families decided to dine together at some fancy restaurant after the ceremony. it a celebration of the two of you leaving high school, and moving onto the next chapter of your lives: university. something you were particularly stressed about.

"why is applying for uni so hard?? i'm just a girl - just accept me!"

anton could empathise with that sentiment - he'd been an exceptional student, yet his lack of curriculars had ended him up on three waitlists, and with one rejection. not to mention how complicated the process was, what with all the different requirements for every university. honestly, he felt like he'd been lied to by all those people telling him not to worry.

looking over at the parents busy in conversation, he noticed that the both of you had finished your meals already.

"can we go? i'm gonna take her out for a drive," he asked them, gesturing to you.

surprised by the sudden plan, you looked to your parents for approval.

"aren't you going to stay for desserts?" your dad asked.

"i'm sure we'll find something sweet on the way," anton replied simply.

"well, i'm okay with it," your dad agreed, looking at anton's parents who nodded back.

you watched him turn to your mother, a silent argument spoken through their eyes. she reluctantly sighs, a sign of surrender, and you cheered on the inside as anton pulled you away and out of the restaurant.

going for drives was something you and anton always did when either was stressed or upset. windows down and music blared as the sky turned an array of colours, it really felt like the movies in moments like this. you sighed contentedly, head propped up on your elbow as you stared outside. the wind combined with ONLY by LeeHi being the only sounds between you and anton.

"ah, i'm not sure if i can do this whole university thing," you confessed your thoughts. "if applying is already this hard, i can't imagine the real thing."

"it won't be this bad. c'mon, we'll be together, right?" anton's voice replied.

"always."

silence engulfed the two of you again.

"i want to do something crazy. something that'll make her mad."

"yeah? any ideas for this crazy plan of yours?"

"hmm... what about..." you trailed off, thinking for a while.

"what about a month-long trip around europe?"

anton's head snapped to you, eyebrows reaching his hairline.

"seriously? she'll actually lose it."

"not that she already hasn't already done so several times before," you grumbled into your elbow. "besides, i'm always sticking to her stupid rules. i just want to do something 'rebellious' before we get thrown back into classes and assignments and homeworks and blah blah blah..."

a pause. then, “let's do it. where do you want to start?"

"really? you'll do it with me?" you perk up, finally looking at him.

"duh," he rolls his eyes, as if you ever leaving him alone was such an unimaginable thought. "let's figure out those visas first though," he added as an afterthought.

2 Notifications yn : you free later this week? yn : feels like i haven't seen u in forever

anton sees the notifications later that night, and sighs as he pushes his hair out of his eyes. he takes a quick look at his monthly calendar.

to be truthful, the two of you had been swamped with finals and work this past semester, so you hadn’t been able to hang out as often as you used to.

seeing that the next part of his coursework wasn't due until next saturday, he decided he had just enough time.

anton: what about tmrw? 12pm at café bleu

"i was thinking..." you started. "what if we do another month-long trip this summer? like we did last year.”

anton grunted at the thought.

"honestly, i've stayed up countless nights this sem for this stupid assignment. i wanted to catch up on sleep thus summer.” i don't think i really have the time for another trip.

"oh. that's okay! we're both going back home anyway, so i'll just come over to yours like always."

"sure, if you want to watch me sleep all day."

but the way he said that - it was a clear no. he didn't have the time, not when he was going to spend all summer trying to catch up on missed sleep.

"never mind, then."

the waitress placed your orders in front of you, and the two of you began to eat in terse silence.

looking at him closely, you notice the darkened eyebags, the pale skin, the way he hadn't even bothered to wear a nice outfit. anton had been pretty cold towards you lately, and he felt guilty, but he couldn't help it. stress was a bully everyone was a victim of.

seeing the way your demeanour seemed to shrink, he was hit with a wave of shame and regret, and took hold of your hand.

"hey, remember that show we watched in senior year? it has a prequel movie coming out soon. we should watch it together."

you perked up immediately. "really? when?"

"november, i think."

he frowned when you faltered, but then you said something that completely sent his heart to the ground.

"i can’t. anton, i'm going on a study exchange programme."

talking to jake was easy. talking to him was nice.

in the three months since jake arrived from australia, anton and him had quickly become good friends, (although he would never be able to replace you). so of course he's sad that the exchange programme was coming to an end soon, and jake would have to leave for home.

however, that meant you'd be coming back too, and he was far more excited about that. the past three months had felt empty without you, even if you were a bit absent from his life for some time before the programme started.

so anton finds himself at café bleu in the same spot you'd told him about your plans, but this time with jake on the other side.

"we'll stay in touch though, yeah?" jake assured him. "i'll definitely come visit some time, this place is really great."

"i'll be looking forward to it."

"i think you're more looking forward to me leaving though, aye? what with your friend coming back too."

at the mention of you, anton couldn't stop the smile from spreading on his face. he really did miss you.

"yeah, she's my rock. always there for me - well, except for these past three months. hopefully you'll get to meet her when you visit."

"i'd love to meet the girl you've been talking about this whole time!"

"you'd get along well," anton nodded, imagining the three of you sharing a slice of cake at this very café. "hey, why don't i call her right now, and you can meet her? although it's just online."

jake nodded eagerly, "why not?"

pulling up his phone, anton quickly swiped to the favourites tab on his contacts app, and called you. after just two rings, you pick up.

"hey! what's up?" your voice greets him, bringing an instant smile to his face.

"nothing much, just wanted to introduce you to jake - he's the student who came in your place as part of the exchange programme," he introduced the guy, turning on his camera.

"oh, hi!" he hears you say after he turns the screen to face the other.

"hi! nice to finally meet you. hope australia treated you well,” jake starts smoothly.

"trust me, it has. everyone so nice and welcoming, i just love it here."

"sounds like you've settled in nicely, i'm almost sorry you'll have to pack up and leave again. but hey, you'll be back home and reunited with this guy, right?" jake laughed.

"well... about that."

anton knew something was up - your voice had that same tone as when you dropped the bomb that was you leaving for the next three months. just before you said your next line, anton felt his heart sink again like it did the first time.

"i've decided to transfer here.

"anton, i'm staying in australia."

once again, anton finds himself in a graduation gown. but for the first time, you're not at his side.

looking at the photos his mother took of him on her phone, he couldn't help but feel a little upset by the lack of you next to him. for the past nine years, he's never had much solo photos; you were always with him, sharing these moments.

but this time 'round, he's completely alone, and your friendship has devolved to instagram mutuals, reduced to liking each other's posts and reacting to stories. the thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

surprisingly, your mother still came to watch him graduate, even if he was only ever just her friend's son.

"oh, anton. you've grown so much since i first met you."

"thank you, auntie," he says awkwardly.

"you know, i miss the two of you. my daughter's all the way in another country, so i barely see you anymore..." she trails off in thought. in the past few years since you left, she seemed to soften up in your absence, no doubt missing you despite the strained relationship between the two of you when you left.

"oh! have you seen the photos? she just graduated herself last week," she fished for her phone in her bag, and began to swipe through her camera roll to show him.

"i wish i could've been there, but i'm not sure she would've wanted that. she's lucky her dad attended instead."

anton shakes his head. "not true, i'm sure she would've wanted you there."

but he wasn’t sure. have your feelings about your mother changed? or were you still upset with her? he doesn’t know. he hasn’t known much about you in a long time.

"i guess we'll never know, will we?"

swiping through more photos, anton's eye caught onto a few of them, where you were standing particularly close to another guy.

"auntie, who's this?"

"ah, him? why, that's her boyfriend, of course." she then turned to look at him oddly. "hasn't she told you?"

he frowned, and shook his head. he's a little off put by the fact that you didn't bother telling him, but then again. you two haven't exactly been friends in a very long time.

and just like that, memories of a pact resurface in his head. it was never going to come true, wasn't it? but if you ended up marrying this guy, anton could never bring himself to watch.

the sound of his friends' voices brought him back to reality. "hey, anton! come over here-" and he forced himself to shake off the thoughts, joining the group instead.

anton had been learning to live life without you for the past four or five years now. he had a new friend group, a nice job in the city, his own apartment, all without his best friend. it was hard to unlearn all the mannerisms he didn't even realise he had for you, not until he would get home from the grocery and realise he bought two boxes of sushi like you used to share, or when he'd almost bought a second, folding mattress for when you'd come over for a sleepover, or even just holding an extra hair tie or two on his wrist in case you needed one.

and that was all in the past now, he's finally began to move on from mourning the loss of your friendship. he only thinks about you once in a blue moon, and his life feels like it's no longer on pause.

but you were always cruel to him.

"wait, what?"

right when he'd begun to move on, you came back.

anton stared at you in shock; when he heard the doorbell ring that day, he'd never have expected you to be on the other side. an intelligent 'wait, what?' was all he could muster when he finally registered just what, or who he was seeing.

"hi," you say in that familiar voice of yours. and you almost sound out of breath, although its clear you hadn't run there.

he finally lets you in after a moment, and you explain how you're moving back, and starting at a local company. you tell him about life back in australia, the friends and experiences you made. you tell him about the past five years of your life as if it was just any normal day after high school.

as if you hadn't just completely left him on his own, his other half gone with you.

although the conversation is stilted and awkward, and theres a gap between you that feels wider than the distance between australia and home, anton's still glad to see you. it almost feels unreal, and he wouldn't believe any of this was real if he couldn't feel your weight pushing down on the sofa, or the very essence of you in his living room.

you and anton agree to get coffee some time after you've settled back in, and he asks if you need any help.

"yes, please! its like i brought my whole life from australia back with me, what with all the boxes i need to unpack."

and so, leaning against the door frame, anton watches you walk away again, catching himself wondering if it would be the last time he'd see you again in a while. he had to keep reminding himself that you were back for good.

"oh, and me and my boyfriend broke up."

anton sucks in a breath, and slips his hands in his pocket to hide the shaking. he wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel - angry? relieved? sorry? anton hasn't known how to feel in years.

"just wanted you to know," you spoke into the air, after you received no response from him.

so with an awkward wave, you leave him once again, with a promise to see each other soon.

"happy birthday!" people greet as they enter the bar, giving anton a quick hug.

"thank you," he smiles back. "wow, twenty-seven. i feel so old."

"twenty-seven isn't that old," you tell him, hugging him from behind as a surprise. he chuckles and holds onto your arms clasped around his middle for a bit before letting you go sit across him.

"think about it, we've been friends for longer than we haven't!"

"including those four or five years we barely spoke?" you raised an eyebrow at him, taking a sip from your glass.

"shh, what years? we've always been as thick as thieves," anton grins, pinching your cheek.

after you moved back, it didn't take that long to rekindle your previous relationship. somehow, you two picked up right where you left off, like there was never a period in your friendship filled with almost radio silence.

"you two," eunseok sighed with an exasperated but fond tone. "if i didn't know you guys were 'just friends', i would've thought you were dating."

"or married!" sohee shouts from somewhere.

you roll your eyes at your friends and coworkers, the guests. dating allegation were nothing new in your relationship, having suffered from them for over ten years now.

"we have been friends for a while now, huh? fourteen years is pretty crazy."

"i honestly can't remember a time when i didn't know you," anton agrees.

"being 'friends' for longer than you haven't is quite the achievement," wonbin remarks with a knowing look. "personally, i don't have toothbrushes and extra clothes at my house for my friends though."

all this talk of friends and friendship was making your head hurt.

"anton, remember the pact we made at sixteen?"

anton looked at you sharply, knowing exactly what you were referring to, but asking anyway. "no. remind me again?"

with a scoff and a smile, you said, without regard to the fact that everyone was half-listening, "when we promised we'd marry each other by thirty if we were both still single?"

clinks of glass and utensils falling around the two of you, your friends were suddenly more invested in the conversation, not even trying to hide their curiosity.

"you really want to talk about this right now? in front of everyone?" anton murmured, voice low enough just for you to hear.

you stared at him, and then continued.

"well, looks like there's three years left to our promise. three years left to run away from me." that pulled out some laughs.

anton just stared at you with a mix of surprise and uncertainty.

"well, i haven't run away for these last eleven years since, have i?"

whoops and cheers filled the bar; you yourself were surprised with anton's boldness and honesty. you always did wonder why he barely ever dated, only ever having a few flings here and there.

suddenly, you felt a little flustered by his bold declaration, and the implication that he'll wait out the remaining years.

"i..."

suddenly, anton's face morphed into a smirk as he took another sip from his own glass, eyes still on you.

"what's another three years?"

"ah, my mom keeps asking when i'm going to settle down," you whine to anton, sitting in his living room as you two share a late midnight snack.

something about it all feels nostalgic, whining and complaining about your mom to him, sitting in his comfy room (or this time, his apartment), with a vinyl record playing in the background. this is home, you decided.

what you don't tell him is that your mom had been more specific with her words.

(when are you and anton going to get married and settle down?? i want grandkids, you know!)

anton laughs lightly, feeding you another sushi. the whole atmosphere was quite domestic, and you wished you could spend the rest of your life like this; with him.

"some things never change, do they?" he remarks with a fond smile. and your heart melts a little.

(hopefully soon, mama.)

"isn't sushi a little heavy for a midnight snack?"

"well, it's not just any midnight, isn't it?" anton asks.

and he's right. it's actually a special one - the night before your birthday.

looking at the clock, you see that it's almost twelve, and you find yourself thinking back on the past twenty-nine years. anton's in most of the memories, something you weren't particularly bothered about. when you two spent that day at the arcade together, something about it all just felt right.

you've always loved change, always wanted more experiences. but one thing you wanted to stay the same forever, was anton being by your side. when you'd gone to australia, it was a slow realisation that some part of you was missing. only when you reunited with anton did you realise why that was.

the soft beeping noise of a clock brought you back from your thoughts, signalling that it was finally twelve o'clock. that you were finally thirty. hearing shuffling behind you, you turn to look at anton for the annual hug and cheer that made your whole birthday.

but instead, you watched in shock as anton sunk onto one knee, and pulled out a box.

"don't look so surprised, now," he chuckles awkwardly. "this was a long time coming."

"i know... i just. i didn't expect you'd do it as soon as i turned thirty," you laughed. "looks like someone couldn't wait any longer."

"can you blame a man who waited fourteen years?"

you shook your head before anton called our your name, even though he already had your full attention.

"my only love, i don't have to hide my feelings anymore. i love you."

with a deep breath, filled with years and years of longing, he finally asked.

"will you marry me?"

TAGLIST ✦ @yoursyuno @totheseok

#MUJEANS ✦ FICS #riize #anton riize #anton x reader #lee chanyoung #chanyoung x reader #anton fluff #anton scenarios #anton imagines #riize fics #anton fics #riize x reader #lee chanyoung x reader #riize anton x reader #anton one shot

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nightlyrequiem · 6 months ago

Note

It’s my first time sending ideas so sorry if I’m not clear enough 😔.

I have a vague idea of Valeria x fem! Reader being on an arranged marriage, readers family owed big money to el sin nombre therefore your fam didn’t had enough to pay desperate for forgiveness Valeria offers taking you instead and leaving your loved ones alone. You were feisty at first not fond of the idea until you knew you were trapped without a way out, accepted your destiny, it wasn’t that bad at the end you had a luxury and power. U can add smut if your write too 🤭..

-🦋🦂

Hi! This is such a fun idea. I've always wanted to try my hand at writing the arranged marriage trope. If it were me being married off to Valeria, I'd fold so fast, can't even lie. That woman has me in a chokehold. Also, so sorry this took me a bit, life finds a way of getting in the way 😔

This is also longer than the one-shots I typically write. About 3019 words :3

Tags/Warnings: Arranged Marriage, kidnapping, WLW, Smut ✂️

In Sickness and in Health

Your relationship with your parents has never been great. Not bad, but not what it should or could be. They never treated you horribly, didn't scream at you or beat you as a child. They just kind of left you alone. They cared, in some way. But deep down you know you'll never come first to them. You've never come first for anyone. Which is why you're feeling a little confused when one day, your parents start really paying attention. Feeding you healthy meals, Booking doctor's appointments. Inquiring about where you've been. You're a little old for them to be trying to parent you. You've been saving up money to move out of town, your brain is only a few years short of full development.

You like the attention though. It feels good to be noticed and worried after. To look into your mother's eyes and see interest instead of boredom is something you could get used to. One Saturday night your parents sat you down in the living room and told you to pack everything you'd need for a long vacation. Your father had been saving up money so you could travel Europe together. Your mother didn't seem as excited as you expected her to be but who are you to deny yourself the chance to experience Europe? So many countries you could visit. Austria, Romania, Czechia? With your parents no less. Maybe things will be different. You can still have a good relationship with them.

You're confused when you get home from work one night a few weeks later to see a woman and three suspiciously dressed men. The balaclavas unnerve you, but your parents are sitting in the living room with them calmly. There is of course a hint of unease identifiable in their body language but there's no sense of urgency. Everyone's head turns to look at you, much to your discomfort. You're still wearing the skimpy waitress uniform from the club you work at. Your steps slow to an insecure stop. The woman drags her gaze over your body.

"Am I interrupting something?" You ask awkwardly. You don't like the look of these people.

"No, Honey." Your mother murmurs. Giving you a strained smile. "Come in and have a seat, we have some... some things to discuss."

You can tell by the tone of her voice that whatever it is, isn't good. Reluctantly you walk into the living room. Sitting down next to your mother. She puts a heavy hand on your shoulder but doesn't look at you.

"This is Valeria." She says quietly. "Valeria, this is my daughter." She says your name. You glance at your dad, confused by the situation. He also refuses to meet your gaze. staring ahead stoically. Valeria smiles and offers her hand.

"It's nice to finally meet you." Her tone is light and friendly. You still don't trust her.

"Sure." You nod. Taking her hand and shaking it. It's softer than you were expecting. Your mother gives your shoulder a squeeze.

"Do you know why I'm here?" Valeria asks. You feel a hint of dread.

"No."

Valeria turns to your mother. "Why don't you tell her?" She says.

You also turn to look at your mother. Your brows furrowing. Your mother sighs and rubs her hands like they're cold.

"Your father and I..." She trails off. "We made a mistake." You stay quiet, letting her continue. "And we owe some money to some..." She casts a furtive look at Valeria. "Some dangerous people."

You frown. You don't have to ask to know it's the cartel. Although, they seem to be pretty civil. The situation isn't so dire. Not yet anyway. "Is that how you're able to afford this sudden vacation?" You ask. "You borrowed money?"

"There isn't a vacation." Your father pipes up. You turn your head to look at him, confused.

"You cancelled it?" You ask him, feeling disappointed. Unless the money hasn't already been spent you don't know why you can't go anyway.

"No, there wasn't one to begin with." He clarifies.

"You had me pack for one." You reply sharply. Time and time again they'll never fail to disappoint you.

Valeria leans back.

"A vacation?" She murmurs, raising a groomed brow. "It's one thing to not tell your daughter, but to get her to pack her things under false pretenses? You're colder than I thought." She sounds amused, which only adds to the growing pit of dread in your stomach.

"What are you talking about?" You snap. Addressing everyone. "Why did I pack? What's going on?" Neither of your parents will look at you but your dad answers your question.

"You'll be leaving with Valeria."

His quiet words stun you. A warm, soft hand grabs yours and you look at it's owner. Valeria has her eyes narrowed at you. "I'll take good care of you." She promises.

You rip your hand from hers like you were burned.

"What do you mean?" You grit out. You're confused and everyone's answers are only giving you more questions.

"Valeria has agreed to forgive our debt in exchange for you." Your mother whispers.

"I am not a bartering piece. What the hell is wrong with you?" You hiss at her. Hurt and afraid. You don't want to go with this woman. Your mother looks up at you with sorrowful eyes.

"They would've killed us." She says. "You understand it's between life and death, right? Please, just do this for us." Just do this for us. What have they ever done for you? Why are you paying for their irresponsible actions?

"No." You snap. "You don't get to ignore me for my entire life and then demand that I sacrifice myself for you."

"You don't have much of a choice." Valeria says casually. She crosses her arms over her chest and gives you a cold look. "I'm taking you regardless of what you want."

You level her with a stubborn glare.

"You'll have to drag me out kicking and screaming." You mutter. Already you hate this smug woman.

Valeria simply shrugs. "That can be arranged." Suddenly one of the big, masked men descends upon you. Roughly hauling you to your feet. You gasp and struggle. Kicking and squirming. You're much weaker than you thought. "Bring her to the car."

"Put me down!" You cry out. You make it as hard as you can. Dragging your feet and thrashing. You try to wrap your ankles around a chair leg, but he just gives you a sharp yank, dislodging you.

You're rudely shoved into the back of a nondescript black car. You swiftly pull back your fingers back as he slams the door, narrowly avoiding having them crushed. You stare at your dark reflection in the tinted window, you're in shock. In the span of ten minutes your life has changed. You try to open the door but to no one's surprise it's locked. You look towards the front. There's a man in the driver's seat scrolling on his phone. You know better than to ask him for help.

You look around. This isn't happening. You scoot to the other door but just before you touch the handle it swings open. You startle and back up against the other side. Valeria gets in beside you. Calm and pleased, like the cat who caught the canary.

"Your bags are in the other car." She says to you. "If there's anything you're missing just let me know."

"My freedom and rights." You growl. Valeria gives you a small smile.

"Cute. That attitude will get old fast though." She remarks. She buckles herself in and tells the driver to go.

The silence is heavy and foreboding. You can't stand it, and you can't stand not knowing why she's doing this to you.

"Why did you take me?" You ask.

"Because I wanted you." She says simply. Wanted you. Like you were a nice coat or necklace she saw in a shop window.

"What are you going to do to me?" You question. All kinds of grim possibilities flash through your mind.

"You're very inquisitive." Valeria mutters. Turning to look out her window.

"Answer me." You demand. Valeria sighs.

"We are going to get married. Your parents owe me money, but I've been watching you and I've decided that you'd make a fair exchange."

Her words give you pause. "Marriage? You've been stalking me?" You don't know which one you want to be more upset over.

"No, watching." She corrects. "I frequent the club you work at for business, and I see you all the time."

"So that means you have to force me into a marriage with you? What's the point?" You snap at her.

Valeria scoffs at you. "Having a pretty woman waiting at home for you is a big morale booster."

You scowl at her.

"I'm not marrying you. You can't do this." You say angrily. "This is kidnapping, it's not legal." The town passes by through the windows. Buildings become less and less frequent.

"No?" Valeria replies irately. "Really? Kidnapping is illegal?" She sounds annoyed. As if your distress is inconveniencing her.

"You can't do this to me!" You raise your voice. Valeria's hand shoots out quick as a snake strike to grab your face roughly. Squishing your cheeks painfully.

"I can do whatever the hell I want, and I'm going to let you know right here right now that I will not tolerate your whining." She says with a dangerously quiet voice.

The rest of the drive passes by in a blur. The car finally stops outside of a nice-looking house, and you're ushered out by Valeria. She drapes an arm over your shoulder. You shrug it off, but she just puts it back on you. Pulling you close with more force than she needs to. A warning. She leads you to the large front doors. Staying on the stone pathway bisecting the yard. Wild plants and cacti sprout up from the dry ground. You don't get much time to observe the scenery as you're dragged inside.

Even the way the lights illuminate the foyer are wealthy. The floors are polished and clean. The door rug is also somehow clean. Even the side tables are matching. Not at all like the mismatched furniture at your house. The men drop off your bags and leave. Closing the door behind them. Valeria lets you take it all in for a few seconds before speaking.

"Do you want something to eat, or do you want to take a shower first?" Valeria asks you, taking off her shoes and neatly arranging them off to the side.

"I want to go home." You reply.

"You are home, pasta or stir-fry?"

You scowl at her. "I'm not touching anything you make."

"Then you can go hungry." She shrugs. "The bedroom is upstairs, feel free to use anything in the bathroom.

You started eating after a few days. It felt like a betrayal to yourself, but you were growing weak. You refused to sleep in the bed. Instead bunkering down in the living room. Getting your sleep on the couch. Every day Valeria tried to interact with you and build some kind of a bond and every day you met her efforts with hostility. Everything was much less... eventful than you thought it was going to be. Even the wedding, which wasn't really a wedding. She just took you down to the courthouse where you signed the papers. No dress, no celebration, nothing.

Valeria was also so much more respectful than you thought she was going to be. She uttered a few threats here and there, but nothing came of it. She didn't beat you or force you into bed. You had free reign of the house and occasionally she'd give you things. You pretended you didn't care. That you didn't want anything she got you, but when she was gone you found yourself trying on the clothes and jewelry she bought you. Admiring the way they looked on you. Valeria... wasn't as bad as you thought.

You spent the day on the couch. Stuffing your face and rotting your brain with reality TV. Valeria made you quit your job. You were pissed about it. In no way did you want to be financially dependent on her, but you didn't have a choice. The argument that followed was loud and a little violent. You screamed at each other and threw things. Now that you've taken the time to rest and relax, you think you were a little too harsh. You check the time, noting that it's going to be another few hours before she returns. The dust has settled into an uneasy peace between the two of you. You get up and walk into the clean kitchen. You'll make her an apology dinner. You still don't appreciate her kidnapping you and forcing you into a marriage but it's not that bad. You don't have to work, don't have to worry about money, really what else could you want?

Valeria returns home just as you finish cooking. You nervously watch her walk into the kitchen and lean against the door frame with her arms crossed.

"Smells good." She compliments. You carefully divide the portions up between the two of you.

"Yeah, thought I'd make supper this time." You reply. Placing the plates at opposite ends of the table. You take your seat and look at her. Valeria regards you with caution.

"It's not poisoned, is it?" She asks. You're a little offended but you can't blame her for being wary. Not with how hostile you've been.

"No." You say. "... I wanted to apologize for how I've been acting." Even though your feelings are more than reasonable. Valeria slowly nods and rounds the table, sitting down.

You begin to hungrily eat but Valeria picks at her food. Clearly not reassured that you didn't do something. Your first instinct is to lash out and get angry but that will get you nowhere.

"Pass me your bowl." You say.

"Why?" Valeria asks, furrowing her brows.

"Just do it." You sigh. Valeria slides her bowl over to you from across the table. You make pointed eye-contact as you lift her spoon to your mouth, eating from it. You slide it back. Hoping she decides to eat now.

You finish before she does, just watching her as she eats.

"This is really good." Valeria murmurs between mouthfuls.

"Thank you." You say, relaxing. "I was just making stuff up as I go."

Valeria finishes and gets up, taking both bowls to the sink. "You should cook more often." She hesitates by the sink. Watching you. You've been pretty lonely lately, has Valeria always looked that good? Her hair is a little messy and her dark brown eyes are half-lidded. Your eyes rove over her tan, toned forearms and the tattoos that decorate them. You stand and join her by the sink with the excuse of washing the bowls. She doesn't move and your arms brush. Your skin tingles at the contact. You can feel her staring holes into the side of your head.

Valeria clears her throat.

"I got you something." She says, reaching into her back pocket. "Hold out your hand." She gently drops a necklace into your waiting palm. The delicate chain feels cold. You pick it up and look at it. "I found it on the ground, it reminds me of you."

You frown and look up at her. "Should I be offended?"

Valeria smiles with amusement. "No, it was glinting in the sunlight."

"And that made you think of me?" You murmur dryly. She leans in a little closer.

"Yeah, it was just another thing on the ground, but it shined and caught my attention."

"That's really stupid." You say. Closing your hand around it. You two stare at each other.

Your back hits the wall with a dull thud as Valeria's lips press against yours. You don't remember taking it off, but your shirt is on the floor, the soft fabric protecting your bare feet from the cold. Valeria's hands fumble with her own shirt before you're both left in your bras. Her hand runs down your waist. Savoring the feel of your skin. You grab her shoulders and back her up into the hallway leading into the living room. Her legs hit the edge of the couch. She drags you down, maneuvering herself on top of you. She breaks the kiss to hurriedly slide your pants off of you, wasting no time in palming the heat between your thighs.

Her own pants don't stay on for much longer. Joining yours in a small, crumpled heap beside the couch, your underwear not far to follow. She presses her dripping cunt against yours, making you see stars with how hard she's grinding down. The room is filled with a cacophony of moans and grunts.

"I knew you'd come around." Valeria pants. "You're so good for me, making me dinner, I wish I could get you pregnant."

You feel yourself throb at the comment. "Fuck." You whine. Valeria's tits demand your attention. Bouncing in your face with each movement. Your hands smooth over her bare back, dragging over her shoulder blades and onto her chest. Valeria grunts as you give them a gentle squeeze, watching the full flesh spill through your fingers.

You shift your legs so you can wrap them around her hips. In turn, Valeria leans down to bury her face into the crook of your neck, biting and kissing you. Your hips buck up to meet hers, your clits dragging against each other. Your orgasm slams into you and you go rigid. A high gasp leaving your parted lips. Valeria isn't too far behind you. Her rhythm breaks but she doesn't still with her climax. She grinds into you, keeping the pleasure up for as long as possible.

She finally slows to a stop and lays her entire weight on you, Sweaty and breathing heavily.

"Good girl." She whispers. Kissing your neck. One of her hands settles on the side of your face. "Does this mean you're starting to like me?"

You consider her words. This was really just a way to release pent up energy. But, she sounds almost vulnerable and if you're being honest with yourself there's something more than lust making sparks in your stomach. "...I could." You reply softly. "Like you. I think I could do that." Valeria lifts her head and plants a soft kiss onto your lips. Her silent way of acknowledging your words. Maybe this marriage will be a good thing.

#valeria garza x reader #valeria garza #cod mw2

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blue-jisungs · 2 years ago

Note

Hii ⭐

Txt with an idol s/o

Can u write this? 😸

you’re an idol ♡

a/n. hello anon! sorry you had to wait for so long, i hope u like it though!! i kind of wanted to write it as well but you gave me the perfect opportunity hehe

you can also find enha version here!! :D

┆彡 YEONJUN [ 연준 ]

oh boy

first of all (and everyone saw it coming)… he absolutely devours your group’s choreos

like okay you’re his gf blah blah but he still will outshine you in the tiktoks you’re making because of your comebacks 😔

and also?? he’s always the first person ever to film a tiktok challenge w u and vice versa…. like your song could be out for only one hour and there’s already a tiktok of u two dancing (nooo not suspicious at all wdym)

other than that he’s such a sweetheart :(

he knows when you’re recording in the studio and will always make sure to drop by and bring you snacks/drinks, even if your company is on the other side of the town

or when he can’t get there in person he’ll send an uber to you with some food with cute sticky notes attached (“fighting! <3”)

and oh boy dating him means that you have access to his closet *-*

so while your fans call you an fashion icon, yeonjun is rolling his eyes at the fact that those are literally his clothes (“i styled them though!” “but y/n–?!”)

takes u on cute lil days usually in the evening and you’re the one who takes his candid pics to post on instagram username yawnzzn 😄😄😄😄😄

and if you have private insta you post pics that he took of you as well ^_^ but if you have an official acc you just wait a bit with posting so the fans won’t be able to connect the dots too quickly

and and :( he’s so cute like!! “yeah there was (your fav group) comeback right?? and they were on inkigayo, right??” *casually whips out a signed album* “oh and also i got (your bias)’s phone number and i gave them yours, they told me they’ll call you!!! i said you’d love to meet up and maybe film a challenge?”

fainting rn

will get jealous tho if u keep blabbing abt your bias so please cover him in kisses n cuddle w him :)

┆彡 SOOBIN [ 수빈 ]

papa bunny is treating you like one of his members

he can be sweet sometimes too 🙄

but most of the time he’ll scold u if you’re not sleeping/eating/resting enough… and also if you’re skipping practices

he’ll snitch to your leader?? or manager??

like tf.

but he’s so so cute :(

if you happen to have comebacks in similar time, you always end up opening each other’s albums!!

or even if it’s for example you, you’ll watch him open all the versions of the albums

bc he’s a fanboy. and you know it he’ll be your fanboy too <3

however filming tiktoks w him when you have a challenge… yeah good luck.

but it only takes one “oh okay i’ll go ask yeonjun then–“ and he’s there shaking his ass

he’ll be grumpy later tho 🙄

(“how could u even think of asking him when i’m your boyfriend!!!!!”)

fans think you’re really really close friends (esp if you’re under hybe too) so they’re like

“oh look!! y/n attended txt’s concert!! their friendship is so so cute!!”

and then you’re making out backstage… yeah cute friendship indeed :)

also expect him to tear up if you’re tearing up on a stage or at home bc you’re so overwhelmed by your fans support :( he just can’t help it + he’s super proud of u

┆彡 BEOMGYU [ 범규 ]

cutie patootie on the highest levels :”)

just like soobin – he’s iu fanboy so ofc he’ll be yours too!!! will attend your concerts, have your light stick and pc collection

obv he’s acting like he doesn’t

in private you often sing each other’s songs

and he’d cover some of them on guitar ^_^

he’s constantly singing your songs underneath his breath

will even dance randomly, sometimes during to x do and the boys r like —.—

takes care of you….. you’re constantly on his mind, he’s so thoughtful

he’ll see one (1) bruise and right away inspect if you’re not going too hard on yourself <\\3

also gossips abt you with your band members 😑

and they send him pics of you when you’re not looking 😑😑

you both are trying your best to be careful abt your relationship but the fans are a little suspicious after you quite often… reference him or his lines

and he’s,,, well, himself and doesn’t really care

so sooner or later fans figure out lol!

but it’s not that bad actually <\\3

┆彡 TAEHYUN [ 태현 ]

realistically speaking he’ll be the smartest with your relationship like no way in hell people would figure out

but he’s so cute help i love him sm :(

he carries a key chain of your representative animal near his keys and just!!! <\\3

he’ll take such good care of you too like 🥹

he knows it all abt taking care of your vocals and body esp when you’re working hard

so he’s pops in to your studio with warm water with honey and straight on acts like it just? fell from the sky?

“idk what do you mean i did not prepare this and carry just for you?? you’re so delusional sometimes i just found it on the street 😑 but drink it all”

yeah sure 🥰

and kind of bullies you intro working out but in the end working out with him is fun so you don’t mind :D

not only your fans are falling in love w u more and more hehehe but also tae also takes care of you after a harsh work out session so…. <3

and he’ll never admit but he loves your songs!! often uses some of them as a warm up or just hums then when he’s alone

will know a lot of choreos of yours as well but he’d rather die than say it out loud

but when he’s with guys tho

(he thinks it’s not that noticeable but it so is)

also if your company sucks ass he will not hesitate to do something about it – whether i’m person, email them or even hire someone to act on it 😳

mans got money, okay? and balls too. and also huge huge love for you 😌 so he’ll do whatever it takes if your comfort is being threatened

┆彡 HUENING KAI [ 휴닝카이 ]

dispatch announced u as a couple and honestly this is the best outcome bc kai would have spilled it anyways

and needless to say you are like everyone’s fav :(

let’s be real, you two are cuties patooties so i’m not even surprised ^_^

fans set matching pfps of your pics :(

and kai is such a sweetheart he started collecting plushies of your representative animal and if you have a plushie (like bt21, skzoo) of you then he’ll just buy every single one that comes out + clothes :(

sleeps w them too :( esp when one of you is on a tour <\\3

oh and also on tours :( you’ll play on nintendos, animal crossing or something and leave notes for each other

or face time while you play and kai zones out sometimes bc he keeps staring at u and thinking how much he misses u instead of playing ☹️

you have the access card to each others companies (if you’re not in hybe) and the staff there is just 🧍‍♀️

loves you to death but is jealous how often you text and hang out with his sisters

esp if you film a tiktok with them first?? and then him?? offended (at least 20 kisses are needed to make him happy again)

carries your pcs everywhere!! wallet, phone case, attached to his bag in those cute little holders

supports u on the FULLEST ?!

sends trucks w coffees or snacks at your filming locations, attends your concerts, goes to events w you and promotes your songs on weverse :”)

[ masterlist <3 ]

taglist. @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinshua ,, @stxrseungs ,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @iliveforlixie ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @mark-geolli ,, @l3visbby ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ddeonudepressions ,, @yourfavoritefreakyhan ,, @cinnamoroxie ,, @kazmura ,, @primoppang

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soobszzn · 2 years ago

Text

distant affection

synopsis: doing everyday tasks wasn’t a hassle when jungkook was with you - even if that meant you were miles apart.

pairing: ldr!jungkook x reader

genre: fluff, established + long distance relationship

content/warnings: long distance relationship and all things associated, mentions of food, jungkook is still an idol, brief (lol) mention of jungkook and his sexy calvin klein endorsement, use of “my love” in a teasing (& affectionate) context

wc: 1.8k

a/n: sorry this is so late!!! love u, S🌸

you knew navigating a long distance relationship with the jeon jungkook would have its ups and downs. obviously, the time difference messed with you both. one person would be asleep when the other was awake, and even if you were awake at the same time, one of you would usually have to attend to other things.

the both of you made it work, though. you’d send each other pictures throughout the day and squeeze in video calls wherever you could. you’d mail each other gifts when you couldn’t be together for special occasions. when jungkook had a couple days off, you’d use it to have long movie dates online in which he would usually fall asleep first. but you didn’t mind.

during his longer breaks, he’d always make it a point to come visit you. the two of you would go sight-seeing in your own city or take a short trip to the next town over. you loved doing anything and everything with him, but the most enjoyable moments were in the mundane. you loved moments where you’d scroll on your phones together on the couch or tease each other while you brushed your teeth before bed.

saying goodbye was always the hardest. there wasn’t anything that could really make missing him hurt less. but while helping him pack during his last visit, you took advantage of when he snuck off to the bathroom and stole a hoodie out of his suitcase. you’d hoped he hadn’t noticed.

munching on your midday meal, you scrolled on your phone before getting a video call from your boyfriend. it was a welcome surprise, so you answered right away.

“hey! what are you doing awake right now? isn’t it like five in the morning?” his phone was looking at the ceiling and you heard music playing in the background. colorful lights speckled his ceiling, and you knew he was again enjoying the galaxy light projector you gifted him last christmas.

“i have a free day tomorrow! and i really wanted to talk to you!” he yelled, indicating he was far from his phone.

you smiled to yourself, appreciating your boyfriend and his sweet gesture. you guessed that with how busy he was recently, he’d be dead tired by the time he came home. but, the fact that you were the first thing on his mind made your heart leap. you then heard the faint music in the background cease, and watched as jungkook propped his phone up, front camera now facing him.

he was leaning on his kitchen counter, sleeve tattoo fully on display. his hair was long and fluffy, his bangs reaching his eyes. you could tell he was tired, but nothing could hide how handsome he was.

you noticed him stare intently into the phone screen. “what are you staring at?” you questioned with a laugh.

“you’re eating lunch right now, right? i’m hungry! let’s eat together!” he said excitedly. jungkook then adjusted his phone so that you had the perfect view of him busy at his stove. you watched as he began tossing things into his pan. you chuckled softly.

“what are you cooking?” you asked curiously, your head now resting in your hand.

“i’m just throwing stuff together, see?” he answered, now panning his phone to what looked like fried rice.

you giggled, now panning your phone to the makeshift fried rice you made for yourself just earlier. the two of you erupted into laughter.

“pretend i made that for you, okay?” you teased, setting your phone back down and taking another bite.

as jungkook finished preparing his meal, you asked him about his schedule for the day. he complained that he had a lot to do in the upcoming days because he had an international schedule set for next week.

“are you sure that’s not just code for coming to visit me?” you half-joked. you knew he was currently busy with solo activities, and it hadn’t been too long since he last visited. but there was always a small part of you that hoped any time he left korea, it was because he was on his way to you.

eventually, he ended up at his kitchen table, phone propped up as if you were sitting across from each other. after taking his first bite, he exclaimed with amazement at his own kitchen creation.

“wahh! wow!” he cried, intentionally being overdramatic. you laughed at his silly theatrics, but you found it all endearing nonetheless.

“want a bite?” he teased, holding a spoonful up to his phone. you proceeded to imitate receiving a bite, and the two of you laughed.

while enjoying your respective meals, you continued to chat about small and pointless things. despite the uneventful topics of conversation, eating together like this made you crave real dates with him. ones where he’d take you to a fancy restaurant for dinner or a small cafe for some coffee. you made a mental note to take him to a new brunch place that opened up the next time he visited.

“what else are you planning to do today?” he asked, making his way to his sink. you followed suit, thinking it would be cute to wash dishes “together.”

“whatever you’re planning to do today.” you replied warmly.

the two of you then washed your dishes simultaneously. your video call now filled with the sounds of water running and dishes clanking, with jungkook occasionally breaking into song or humming a familiar tune.

“i have some laundry i need to fold actually,” he mused afterwards, taking a quick scan of his home.

“i do too!” you replied excitedly at the convenient coincidence.

now, with both phones propped up in your respective living rooms, the two of you dove into your piles of laundry. you chatted about new music you were listening to, books you wanted to read, and the new spider-man movie that jungkook was excited to see.

when jungkook began tackling his pile of underwear, he started showcasing the new pieces he received from calvin klein.

“oh my god! what are those!” you laughed. the two of you giggled at the brightly coloured pairs that he was holding up to his phone. although not his typical style, you were glad one of his solo activities included being the endorser for such a popular - and sexy - brand.

you finished folding first, so you adjusted yourself comfortably on your sofa and watched jungkook continue. jungkook took a glance at you and smiled to himself.

“what?” you questioned with a pout.

“you look cute,” he answered with a soft chuckle. you were cuddled up on your couch, encompassed snugly within a throw blanket jungkook had previously gifted you. you hid your face in your hands bashfully.

as he finished folding his clothes, jungkook opted to play some of his music recommendations through his television. he’d softly sing along as you listened intently, chiming in with short remarks here and there.

“i like this one,” you commented after one of the songs ended.

“ah! why don’t i just sing for you, my love?” he suggested suddenly with a teasing tone.

“ew, no, don’t call me that!” you replied with fake disgust. you and jungkook would typically just call one another by your names, so the sudden use of a nickname both surprised and flustered you.

“but go ahead then, mr. jeon.” you continued, previous shyness now replaced with an intrigued arrogance.

after quickly setting up his karaoke machine, jungkook then turned to you smugly with his microphone in hand. he started out his late night - or perhaps early morning - performance with a couple songs related to inside jokes the two of you shared. you watched fondly as jungkook happily sang along to the upbeat pop music.

“don’t go overboard and strain your voice,” you gently reminded him.

“of course, my love.” he teased you again, with a wink this time. you playfully shot him a repulsed look in response.

following his high-spirited warm-up session, he then transitioned to singing his own music. in an attempt to impress your world-class entertainer of a boyfriend, you would sing along using bts fanchants and passionately wave around an imaginary army bomb. jungkook - while still seated on his sofa - would mimic the choreography as he ventured through his groups’ discography.

after running through a couple bts tracks, jungkook then transitioned to serenading you with songs he knew were your favourites. you gazed at him warmly, now completely immersed in him and his voice. although you’d hear him speak practically every day, you never tired of his soft and angelic singing.

through your now heavy eyelids, you noticed your boyfriends’ energy start to deplete as well. he had stopped dancing and moving around as dynamically as earlier, now only swaying back and forth on his couch. you were still comfortably curled up on your couch, now fighting the urge to slip into an afternoon nap.

“are you getting sleepy?” he asked softly after finishing another song.

“no, not at all,” you mumbled, shaking your head at him with a pout.

“alright, you liar.” he taunted playfully. you noticed him place his microphone down beside him, perhaps signalling that he was finished with his karaoke performance.

“wait! one more song!” you cried out in a sudden panic. you didn’t want this moment of bliss to end so soon. the two of you hadn’t had such a long call together in a while, so you wanted to indulge in this moment as much as you could.

“please. just one more song.” you implored, trying to persuade him with forced “puppy dog eyes.”

jungkook conceded with a sly smile, picking up his microphone again. then, ever so swiftly, you heard a slow and soft tune start to play. you allowed yourself to close your eyes, completely immersing yourself in jungkook’s melodic and affectionate final serenade to you.

before the song even concluded, you had fully fallen asleep on your couch. jungkook noticed this, finishing up the song quietly so as to not wake you suddenly. his lips curled into a soft grin as he watched you fall deeper into your slumber.

after tidying up his living room, he made his way to his bedroom with the hopes of getting some rest of his own. he propped you up beside him on his bed, as if the two of you were sleeping next to one another.

then, before succumbing to his own heavy eyelids, he jokingly whispered into his phone: “by the way, i know you have my hoodie.”

but he hoped you hadn’t heard.

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mentally-unstable-hottie13 · 18 days ago

Note

Hii! Soo i saw a moodboard and fell in love with the vive

you think you could do a one shot about being Henrys innocent girlfriend

Thats the mood board, but instead of Patrick could u do a Henry one plss🙏🙏

✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽

Thank you so much for the ask! Sorry it took so long I hope I did it justice. I also re did the mood board to make it a cover. Hope you like it .

✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽

Henry x innocent! Reader!

Content warnings: mention of sex, suggestive material, underage smoking, theft, language. Misogynistic language.(Not from Henry)

(NO ACTUAL SEXUAL ACTS HAPPEN IN THIS STORY. ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18 IN THEIR SENIOR YEAR)

A/N: I'm kinda back! Yay! | didn't add smut to this because I didn't know if any of y'all would be willing to read that so l thought it would be best to ask here. Leave a comment if yes! All my story's will continue plus I have a new man I plan on writing for! Hope you like it!

✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽

You lived in Derry for a few years when you were younger but your father had gotten a promotion at his job that required your family to move to a whole new state. Now after 10 years, here you are. You had to move back because of your grandmothers worsening condition. You loved Granny. She was your best friend.

After moving back you have been spending all of your time at granny’s house. She’d teach you to sew, cook, she’d ask you to read to her as she lay in her recliner chair. It’s almost like you lived at her house and not with your parents. Don’t get me wrong you love your parents, they just understood how much granny meant.

The past few weeks at Derry high have been almost Hellish. People push you in the halls, this girl Greta and her friends are ruthless in their taunts and now there was him.

Henry Bowers. He apparently had been suspended the first 2 weeks you were in town. Now he was at school everyday, in almost every class. He always had his eyes on you. You wont lie, he scared you. In comparison to him you were much smaller, and not just in stature. Henry’s personality, energy and voice was big in comparison to your shy, calm, innocent one. He was the definition of fear. He looked at you like a wolf looked at a lamb. And that was the scariest part. All Henry ever did was look.

Until one day.

It stopped looking and did something.

You remember the day clearly, the day that set everything in motion. It was a warm day with wet air. It had rained the night prior and was overcast all day. You had an English quiz today. You never minded English class but on days with quizes you felt unshakable anxiety. You always read the material but what if?

Yep, you were one of those. You always knew the material, but felt like you would choke on a test. (You never have).

Just for the test the teacher decided to finally switch up seats. Yippie. Every person would now have a different table partner. You could almost see the murder in Henry’s eyes when she pointed to a desk and announced that you and Henry would be tablemates.

Double yippie.

The paper was placed before you and Henry and the hour timer started. Simple questions if you read the book. But like always, there was a hint of fear embeded in your skin. About 40 minutes in your absolutely anchient English teacher fell asleep. Seriously he was so old you don’t know if he was safe to dive himself home anymore.

Henry kicked your foot. Oh no.

You tried not to acknowledge his attempts at your attention. That didn’t last long. He finally annoyed you enough and got you to look at him. He slid over a small paper note.

“Help me out.”

Was all the almost illegible note said. The hadwriting was so bad it was almost endearing.

“With what?” You gently wrote back.

After a long minute of Henry writing in the note he slid it back.

He asked for only half the answers? Why not all of them? He also didn’t ask for any of the short response questions . Just the multiple choice ones.

You sighed and flipped the note over before writing out the answers.

“AACDBCCDA.”

You passed it back and silently slid it to Henry under the table. You really didn’t need to get in trouble because someone saw you helping this guy out. What if the teacher called your parents? What if Granny got mad? God that would be the end of the world for you. You hated upsetting your family. You always tried to do what you were told.

Henry takes the paper and unfolds it before quickly copying the answers and then shoving the note in his pocket, from there he writes a few words for the short response before drawing shit on his paper.

You finish up the test and get up to turn it in. Just as you start raising out of your chair Henry put his hand on your thigh. Startled by the contact you jump a little and look down at him. With a bored expression he hands you his paper. You sigh again before walking up to the teachers desk and walk back to your desk to gather your things. As you walk the bell for lunch rings and everyone leaves. Because of that little interaction with Henry you were the last one to turn in your paper and now you were the last one left in class. You didn’t mind. You sat alone for lunch. You could read your books when you were alone. Even the teacher had left.

You grab your bag and begin gathering your things to leave. By the time you are done the hallways appear empty. Just as you exit the room a sharp hand grabs your wrist. Startling you backwards, you turn to face your “attacker” only to come face to face…. With him.

Henry. You were all alone. With him.

You can’t deny that he was attractive. His bright blue eyes, muscles and long hair made you blush.

You’d never really looked at boys like this, not for any particular reason. They just never interested you. until today that is.

Henry leaned against the lockers with a vexed expression lain across his features. Why was he annoyed?

From his perspective the blush on your checks was ever-noticeable. You avoided his gaze but kept your eyes on him. Strange. He though.

“I need your answers for Mr. Clark’s math class. I know you have him the hour before me.” Henry stares

“W-what?” You ask absolutely bewildered that he’s demanding answers after you already helped him cheat. You already felt icky about helping him in the first place.

“You heard me. I need you to do the study guide and give me the answers. He allowed us a cheat sheet for the test based on the study guide but I don’t feel like doing the work. So. You are gonna help me. Got it?” It’s not a question, he’s telling you that you’ll help him. What a jerk.

After a moment of you not responding he snatches your phone from you. “Hey!” You lunge after your phone. He holds it above your head.

“Open it and go to your contacts. Now.” He hands you back the phone. He was scary, you knew the things he did to other kids who didn’t listen to him. Might as well listen.

You open your phone and open up contacts before handing it back to him. He types for a second before handing it back.

“Text me your address so I can come by after school. If you ghost me I’ll kick your ass into a pulp. Don’t test me.” And with that, Henry was gone.

What was this kids deal?

You messaged Henry the address to your Granny’s house after school. As you enter her house you call out for her.

“Gran?”

“I’m in here love!” She responds from the living room.

You walk to Granny and kneel beside her in her rocker.

“Hi love, what’s got you lookin all down today?” Gran wonders.

“A boy is coming over today to study, I wanted you to know.”

“Oh a boy you say? Why don’t you two work in your room? I won’t be a bother to you in there.”

“Are you sure Gran?”

“Positive.”

With a heavy sigh you go to your room. You decided clean up a little before Henry comes over. You liked your room here. Most of your material belongings were at home with your parents but Grans house had all your clothes and stuffed animals and blankets. The dusty blue walls made the room feel cozy. Your bed spread was a light pastel pink with little blue flowers all over it. Your lamp was in the shape of an old teapot and your stuffed animals that you didn’t regularly sleep with were placed in a “hammock” in a corner. Potted plants scattered your room. These little details made you feel so at home it was hard to describe.

A knock came from the front door snapping you out of your comfortable daze. You exit your room and walk to the front door. Before you even speak Henry pushes past you into the house. You sigh and shut the front door before showing him to your room and shutting the door behind you.

God this guy is a jerk…

He sits himself on your bedspread and you cringe at the thought of his dirt covered jeans on your bed. You see that he has nothing on him. You knew this wasn’t gonna be a regular study session but nothing? Not a pencil? Not even his own book?

Whatever.

You get yourself situated on the floor in front of your small table and get out your book and paper. You finished most of the study guide in your last few classes today. You just had a few more things to put down. When you were done you looked up to see Henry had lain fully back onto your bed. In his dirty farm clothes.

Don’t panic.

Sheets can be washed.

The mattress however bust be set aflame.

You tossed the pencil and cheat sheet up onto his lap before turning on the tv from where you sat. He stirred at the feeling of something touching him he steadied himself on his elbows to look at you, then the paper. He scoffed before retrieving a notecard from his pocket. He slid of the bed and sat next to you on the floor, leaning over the table as he wrote. You rolled your eyes and found a good show to watch.

Once he was done writing he looked up.

“What the fuck is this?” He asked gesturing to your tv.

“It’s my favorite show.” You shrug.

“This?” He asks confused, “no way this boring shit is your favorite.”

“Well it is, I usually watch it with Gran”

“Do you only really watch tv with her?” He asks weirdly.

“Pretty much.”

“Do you do everything with your gramma’?”

You just nod.

“That explains fucking everything!” He shouts and laughs loudly.

You try to throw your hands over his mouth. “SHHHH!! Not so loud! she doesn't like swearing!”

He laughs louder through your hands. Once he calms a little he grabs your wrists and removes your hands from his face.

“Fuck, that makes so much sense now.”

You look at him oddly. “What makes sense?”

“You” he gestures, “the old lady clothes, the knitting in class, the books, the no swearing, the way you talk. You are a clone of your grandma!” He laughs again.

Your cheeks turn pink with embarrassment.

No I'm not… I’m me, my grandma and I just spend a lot of time together that’s all….

“Just shut up Henry!” You snap.

….

“What did you just say to me, freak?” He levels you with a glare. You couldn’t find it in you to care.

“I said shut up! I’m helping you for tomorrow when I don’t have to! You have no idea what you are talking about so just shut up!”

He leans in closer to you with that angry look on his face.

You were in so much trouble. Would he hit you? Beat you? Yell at you? You’d heard stories of what he’d done to other kids that tried to stand up to him.

You close your eyes in fear of what’s to come. You’d never even raised your voice like that before. Of course the first time ever had to be at Henry Bowers. You wait for him to hit you, but instead you feel 2 hands grab at the side of your face before Henry smashed his lips to yours.

Your eyes snap open in shock. The kiss is rough and demanding but not awful. After a few seconds of initial shock you melt into it before Henry pulls off.

Your eyes flutter open to see Henry smirking with a flushed face. You assume the red on his cheeks is matching you.

“W-why would you do that?” You cover your face with your hands.

“Because I felt like it.” He deadpanned.

This made no freaking sense. Why would this guy do that?!?

“Yo” he starts again. “Relax. I’ve liked your look for a while, what do ya say you go with me for a while?”

WHAT WAS HE EVEN SAYING?????

“Pardon?….”

“I’m sayin go steady. Hang with me fer a while”

“Are you insane!?” You whisper yell. “You threaten to beat me up, swear in my house, make fun of me then kiss me???”

“And now I’m askin to go steady.” He confirms.

This kid was insane. What was even more insane was the fact that you were pondering it. Maybe it was the fact that he called you a clone of Granny. That implies you were like an old lady, uptight, boring, no fun. You could be fun.

“Why not?”

He looked a little surprised.

“Really?” He asked in a bored and skeptical tone.

“Yeah, why not?”

And from there you and Henry have been together for months.

Being with Henry has taught you things you never knew. He’s influenced you to do things you never would have done. Not that you are complaining.

He and his friends took you to the quarry today. You had never really seen boys your age undressed before… that was quite a strange feeling. You’d never really been undressed in front of boys before. The way Henry looked at you confused you. For about 30 minutes after you caught him staring he refused to get out of the water. Even when everyone else did.

One of Henry’s friends, you’d come to learn was Belch, brought a speaker to listen to music as you sat in the shaded rocks and watched the boys fool around in the water. You’d never listened to music like it before. Screaming, loud, sex and drug filled music. You’d be lying if you said you completely hated it.

Another thing you learned was how these boys speak. Once they all exited the water they began talking about a girl. Greta. The girl who was always mean to you. They called her things like a “slut” and “total bone material”. Not Henry of course. But they all talked and laughed about sex in such an unserious way. You wondered what that was like. To not be intimidated by sex.

You knew what sex was and the basic mechanics of it but absolutely nothing else. You were curious. You appeared to be the only senior in your school who was almost totally clueless. Others definitely were taking notice.

On the car ride back to your house the boys stopped at a corner store for snacks. You knew they stole. You told Henry your only rule was “don’t get me involved” and he never did. Although Henry was teaching you new and foreign things he tried to keep you out of the worst of it. Anything that gets you in trouble.

As he hopped back into the Trans Am that was uncomfortably full now that you tagged along, he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and hit the box on his palm twice. He asked Patrick to light it and the smell of the burn filled your nostrils. Belch started the Trans Am and began driving. A little while after lighting the cigarette it was passed around until you were the only one who hadn’t had a puff. Patrick looked at you.

Oh no.

“C’mon babe, give it a try.” He said and practically waved the half gone thing in your face.

“Leave it, hockstetter.” Henry said firmly, turning in his seat to look at you with almost apologetic eyes.

“Oh come on Henry she’s a big girl, let her try.” Patrick laughed.

You look at Henry one more time. In the months you had spent together you’d heard his friends tease him about you. Of course you’d never tell him that. You heard them say you were too clean to be with a Bowers, that you were “so fucking boring it’s amazing Henry hasn’t boned someone else”.

You never wanted Henry to be ashamed of you, you didn’t want Henry to think you were boring.

You look at Patrick defiantly and snatch the cigarette from him before inhaling. Inhaling wasn’t the problem. It’s getting it out that caused some issues. On the exhale it tickled parts of your lungs you never want tickled and you coughed, sputtering. The boys laughed and as you got yourself composed you made eye contact with Henry who was still looking at you. He had a smile on his face, but his eyes said something different.

✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽

After returning you and Henry to Gran’s house the boys sped off. You unlocked the door and went into the living room to sit with Granny for a bit while Henry went to your room. Gran wasn’t particularly fond of the Bowers but she liked that you were happy.

You sat and told Gran that you and Henry and a few friends (not including that you were the only girl) went to the quarry for a swim. She smiled weakly and asked you to help her to her room for a nap. Grab had a very specific sleep routine. Wake up at 4, two naps a day for about an hour and a half each then in bed by 8. She never slept without her mask or her earplugs. She was on the verge of being deaf but she swore any and all sounds while she was sleeping would overstimulate her. So she wore earplugs. Due to the earplugs alarms were rendered ineffective so in about an hour you would be waking her.

After getting Granny all settled you shut her door then went to find Henry in your room across the house.

Henry is sitting on your bed, not unusual but he looks upset (also not unusual but you don’t know why he’s upset).

“You ok baby?” You asked timidly while stepping closer.

“Why would you do that?” He asks angrily but not yelling.

“What?”

“Why the fuck did you take the cig from hockstetter?” He spits.

“I wanted to try it”

“Bullshit, you've never wanted to try anything like that.”

“It’s not bull it’s true!” You try to lie but it’s not getting you anywhere.

“Bull. Shit.” He repeats. “You don’t drink, you don’t smoke, you get mad when we steal, you hate what I do every fucking day. So why the fuck did you do it?”

You stay silent and he huffs. He stands up and moves to leave.

“No!” You block his way.

“Move. ____” he says your name like he’s tired.

“No, I don't want you to go!” You admit.

“Then tell me why you took it from him!”

You look away, embarrassed.

“Because I don’t want you to be ashamed to be around me..”

He looks confused, which is pretty par for the course when it comes to Henry and feelings. “What?”

You try to breathe and explain. “I don’t do the things you do… I don’t do the things other girls that you guys hang out with do.”

“And what the fuck about it?” Henry snaps.

“I just-“

“No.” He cuts you off. “I’m not responsible for your insecurity. Don’t put that on me.”

“I wasn’t-“ you panic at his defensiveness but are cut off again.

“I ask if you wanna hang out with my friends because you are my girlfriend. You. Not that bitch Greta. Or Stacy, or Lana. You. I wanted you to be my girlfriend, if you are getting all insecure and shit that’s on you.”

“It’s not like that! I just don’t know the things everyone else seems to!” You try to explain.

“And!? I fucking chose you! You think I want a girl that knows everything!? A girl that thinks she’s better then me at everything?!

“No!”

“Then what the fuck is the problem?!”

“There is no problem henry. I’m just confused..”

“You’re confused? I’m confused!” He retorts. “I thought everything was fine!”

“It is!”

“Then what’s the problem!” He shouts again.

For once you are happy about Grans earplug habit.

“…I can’t do the things other girls do..”

“What?”

“I heard patrick say you had sex with Beverly and Greta”’

….

Silence. The scariest thing your boyfriend could do. Give you pure. Excruciating silence.

You start thinking of a way out. Try thinking of a way to backtrack. But nothing is coming to mind. Your heart sinks as you begin to think you royally messed up.

“I didn’t.”

…

“What?” You ask incredulously.

“I never had sex with either of them. Greta and I got pretty close to doing it a few times but I never did anything with Beverly.”

Your eyes must be wide with shock and self induced embarrassment horror.

“You don’t believe me?” He asks defensively.

“No no no I do”

“When I said I wanted to be your Boyfriend I meant it.” This sweet, almost domestic side of Henry was rare and always but you in a confused state, mostly because you knew it was only for you. “I don’t wanna fuck anyone else. I want to completely ruin you for anyone else, I wanna teach you things you never knew existed, I want you to go home to your parents one day with music that kills them of shock. I wanna teach you. Not anyone else.”

As crazy as those things may sound coming from someone you understood what he was trying to say. It was Henry’s way of saying if I was gonna learn he’d rather it be him. It was him acknowledging that you weren’t gonna be innocent forever, so why not learn it from him. What sounds even crazier is you think you loved the idea.

Henry took a step closer to you. He put his heavy calloused and bruised hands on your arms and kissed you roughly. Henry didn’t do soft. Never had and never will, and you loved it.

He led you to the bed while maintaining the kiss and once your knees hit the bed they bent and you fell to the bed. Henry continued kissing you, getting tougher as time went on. He began kissing you with his tongue, something he’d only ever done once before and you loved it. His hands slowly but firmly went up your blouse to touch the exposed skin. He brought his knee up between your legs and you gasped at the contact, having never felt it before. After a few seconds Henry broke the kiss and got off you.

Confused. You looked at him. He took off his shoes and grabbed the tv remote before holding you. Your heart swelled at the realization that he was trying to take it slow for you. Even if it left him uncomfortable. And trust me it was. Henry sat with a hard on for the entirety of the movie he put on while holding you.

✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽

Please tell me if there was any mistakes so I can fix them ❤️☺️

#henry bowers #henry bowers fanfic #henry bowers x reader #henry bowers x y/n #it henry bowers #henry bower x fem! reader #belch huggins #patrick hockstetter #it 2017

64 notes · View notes

reidsaurora · 8 months ago

Note

hil! so im a little nervous to send this in and confused how exactly to request but im gonna try anyway

the summer celebration and the banner is so cute! could i please request for you to write a "Malibu Dream House - domestic!au" with Reid and fem!reader? Spencer and reader are expecting (unless you're uncomfy with pregnancy, then they can just be a couple that's moving) and relocating, buying a home together. and the team comes over for a house warming party during well obviously the summer! just like cute fluffy dynamics between everyone. Rossi is protecting the bbq like it’s his baby and ofc Ms. Penelope Garcia is excited at the possibilities of the couple’s future

i hope this isn’t too boring a request, and of course no pressure to write this, i just hope you’re having a good day and hope summer treats you well 🩵

hi, lovey! sorry this took so long! as usual, i don't have an excuse alshalsjsksh 💀 hope u enjoy though!

"With A Little Help From Our Friends" ~ S. Reid

Summary: When Reader is feeling apprehensive about the end of her pregnancy, Spencer reminds her that really all you need is a little help from your friends.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Pregnant!Reader

Word Count: 1,846

Content Warning: pregnancy stuff, a little sexual humor at the end, food talk, small mention of a gun (this is CM after all), lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: it definitely didn't take me three different attempts to write something without scrapping it...

Originally Written: 07/23/2024 through 07/27/2024

Beta Read By: @dungeons-are-too-cold (love u my editor 4 life)

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

Summer Celebration can be found here!

Malibu Dream House - domestic!au

Crashing Waves - angst requests -> Sun Kissed - fluff requests

To say the last couple months had been busy would've been an understatement.

Sure, when you and Spencer first saw that little blue plus sign, you went into full-blown parent mode. It started with some baby clothes, then some bottles, then the crib… But, entering the last trimester of your pregnancy, that's when things started to get real.

In the process of getting ready, you'd acquired enough things for a potential army of babies, making Spencer's apartment—originally intended for one resident—feel even tinier than the baby you were soon to birth. So what was Spencer's genius solution? Move into a new house, because he simply couldn't get rid of his baby's things before she'd even arrived.

And that was how you found yourselves heavily pregnant and moving into your new three-bedroom Cape Cod in the quiet town of Cabin John, Maryland. Perhaps you should've found somewhere that wouldn't require waiting until your eighth month of pregnancy to move in, but with its charming blue-and-white exterior and flower boxes on nearly every window, it was hard to say no to the place.

The last week had been spent moving everything in, not much thanks to you but thanks to your friends/colleagues of the BAU. Pretty much everyone had been in and out of your home over the week, but Spencer still insisted that the two of you should throw a housewarming party, and who were you to say no to that cute smile and big brown eyes? You only hoped your daughter wouldn't inherit them, or else you might just take that two letter word out of your vocabulary altogether.

Now you were here, in the kitchen supply aisle of the grocery store, contemplating what paper plates to use for the party.

“I really don't think anyone's going to care about the design, love,” Spencer attempted to reassure you. “Just so long as they aren't flimsy.”

Your pregnancy brain was basically ignoring him at this point though. “What if I buy the wrong ones and they think they're ugly?”

Spencer pouted, though he placed a supportive hand on your back. “How long have you known my colleagues? And how many times has someone said something mean about something so miniscule?”

“There was that one time Rossi said he didn't like that flower arrangement I put on the coffee table.”

“In his defense, he said they were the same colors that his second wife had at their wedding,” he explained, then chuckled. “He was probably just having some PTSD.”

Eventually, after a few more minutes of contemplation, you decided on the basic white ones, Spencer reassuring you all the while that they were perfect. Then, it was onto cutlery, which was just another thing for your brain to pick apart. You knew it was silly, truly, but you just couldn't get yourself out of your own head about even the most miniscule things.

On top of that, it seemed as though your husband hadn't missed your shift in behavior. Sometimes it sucked that he read people for a living.

“Honey,” he started, his tone sounding oddly like the word he'd just said, “are you sure this is about paper plates and plastic forks?”

Normally, you'd be able to put up a fight with your brain, push down the thoughts and explain later in the comfort of your home. But pregnant you was much different than regular you, and it only took that one question to have you tearing up.

You leaned into his shoulder, hoping to suppress the sounds of your cries. “What if I make all the wrong choices and the baby hates me?”

His lips met the crown of your head for a gentle kiss, followed by a soft sigh. “I promise she'll love you. You're going to be the most wonderful mother any little girl could ask for.”

“But what if I buy her the wrong diapers and she yells at me?”

Spencer gave you that signature pout, and a small swarm of butterflies set off in your belly. “I doubt she'll be that picky over them, but if she is, we just buy her new ones and make it better.”

You couldn't help but snicker through your tears. “I feel like that's awful advice, but I think I get what you mean.”

“C'mere,” he mumbled, pulling you in as closely as possible. Your bump had made it hard for hugs to happen, but that definitely didn't stop your husband from trying. “You're going to make a mistake or two. It's in our nature. I will most likely make a lot more than one or two mistakes-”

“Not true. You're gonna be the best dad in history.”

“And you will be the best mom in history. It's going to be a learning curve for all three of us. But, when they say ‘it takes a village,’ at least we know we have our village. JJ will be there to help with all your new mom questions and Hotch will be there to help me build her first treehouse. Kate will be there when she starts playing with makeup and we start to feel old.”

You giggled into his shoulder, earning you a small smile. “Penny will be there just to spoil her.”

“Emily will be there just to teach her how to flip someone off,” he snickered, the sound vibrating against your skin. Then, he was pulling you up for a long but sweet kiss, the taste of his morning coffee taking over your senses. “We've got this. You've got this.”

And instantly, you were feeling better. You knew Spencer knew magic, but sometimes you swore he was a wizard with the way he could change things just by saying one thing.

—

The second you pulled into the driveway, your heart sank to your stomach.

“Spence, why is the gate open?” You only hoped he had a reasonable explanation.

Unfortunately, his answer was not at all what you were hoping to hear. “I'm not sure. I don't think I left it open.”

Abandoning your party supplies in the car, the two of you headed toward the gate, Spencer insisting you and the baby stay behind him. As an FBI agent, he knew never to go anywhere without a gun, so luckily he at least had some way to protect you and himself if it came to that.

With one hand, he pushed open the cracked gate, the other lingering near his firearm just in case. The two of you quietly and slowly made your way into the backyard. Your heart was beating so hard against your chest, it felt like it would jump right out of your ribcage. Spencer managed to remain his normal, calm self, but you couldn't say the same.

And then, just as you rounded the corner: “SURPRISE!”

Both you and Spencer nearly jumped out of your skin at the screams, though you both quickly realized what was going on.

Pink and white balloon arrangements, one table filled to the brim with gifts and another covered with various snack trays and drinks. If it wasn't clear this was a baby shower, the sea of people in pink outfits would've been the giveaway.

Penelope was first to greet you, her pink sundress bouncing as she practically ran to meet you. “You don't understand how hard it was to keep this from you,” she said, sounding like she was on the verge of tears.

Your arms flew around her neck, and hers wrapped around what they could of your stomach. “What is all this?” Now you were on the verge of tears with her.

“Papa Rossi wanted to throw you guys a shower and of course we had to surprise you.”

You let go of Penelope and turned to Rossi, wearing his normal attire, except for his normal white button-down had been replaced with a pink one. “Dave, you old softie!”

His arms wrapped around your neck for a small hug, and he left a peck to each of your cheeks. “I love you, kid, but don't call me old.”

You laughed as he let go, and immediately he walked over to the grill, like that was where he belonged. Then, you and Spencer were off to make the rounds.

Spencer wore the biggest smile you'd ever seen, aside from the one he had when you'd first shown him the pregnancy test. Even though you'd been with Spencer for nearly a decade, you still felt butterflies and goosebumps when he smiled, when he laughed, when he called you ‘love’.

“He's gonna be the best,” Penelope said, her eyes following yours.

You smiled before turning back to her. “Yeah, he really will.”

Just then, Luke and Spencer headed your way, Spencer moving to stand behind you. Immediately, you leaned into him, and he took your belly in his hands, relieving some of the pressure there. “Why were you staring?” he teased in your ear.

“I just think you're pretty,” you giggled, the sound like music to your husband's ears.

Luke snickered at the interaction, though he tossed an arm around his girl, giving Penny a quick kiss on the head. “By the way, you guys should have babies more often. This woman has been cooking enough to feed an army. She left like ten casseroles in the fridge for you guys.”

“Penelope,” Spencer gave her a soft look of something close to disapproval, though you knew he didn't mean it. “You didn't have to do that.”

“You and Mama are gonna need something to eat, and I know you guys are not going to feel like cooking after being up with a newborn all night.”

And it was time for another hug, the tears from earlier actually falling this time. You weren't sure what it was about pregnancy, but you'd realized it had made you awfully touchy. But you didn't care, especially today, when you were in the arms of some of your best friends.

“Hey, Penny,” Luke said as he watched the encounter, a tone of slyness to his words. “Maybe we should hop on the train next. Then you'll have a reason to make that breakfast casserole more often.”

She pulled away from the hug before turning to her boyfriend with probably the most serious look you'd ever seen her wear. “Luke Santiago Alvez, if you bring your man-juices anywhere near me, I will rip off your thingy and then feed it to you.”

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped your lips. Then, you turned to Spencer, who was just confused. “Did she just call it a thingy?”

“Did she just say man-juices?” His sentence elicited giggles from all four of you.

It was then that “With A Little Help From My Friends” by The Beatles started to play on the speaker, no doubt having been taken over by Hotch. But as the song played, you couldn't help but notice the sea of people all here for your baby. Sure, you were terrified. But you knew you'd get through it: with just a bit of help from your friends.

-> taglist: @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @nomajdetective @kbakery @leigh70 @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @lunar-affection @givemeth @lavhoes @rhyanishere @cat-lockwood @danielle143 @marsmallow433 @handsupforamiracle @topguncultleader @mente-sindescanso @reverieofmgg @spencer-reids-adventures @ah-blossom @encyclo-reid-ia @reidselle @thevisionthedream @dungeons-are-too-cold @mmmeademaaa @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @annahalstead5021 @cwritesforfun @soapiebear @maelartasch @buckyyyismahhlife @cynbx @hellooitsrose @lover-of-books-and-tea @juismissing @captainchris-pike @therealrazortai

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sansaorgana · 9 months ago

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hi! could you write something for benny where reader is the one who falls in love with him first, but since she comes from a rich family, benny is the one who is always pushing her away? he thinks she just wants to use him to cause trouble with her parents since he's a bad boy, etc. one day, he treats her bad or say something harsh to her, and she gets really sad and it's the first time he sees her like that and he hates it, making him realize that he actually likes her too? a bit of angsty but ending very fluffy! i'm sorry if this is too much! feel free to add your own ideas to this and take your time, if u don't feel like writing this, that's totally ok!

hello! 🎀 thank you for your request! it immediately gave me the vibe of Lana Del Rey's song Gangsta Boy 🤭 but I actually quoted her other song in this fic (Happiness Is a Butterfly) 🦋 I hope you like it, darling! 😌

I had to close my requests for now because I got so many 🙏🏻

You first met Benny when he was hired by your father to clean the pool and mow the lawn for the summer. You opened the balcony doors, irritated by the loud sound in the early morning. You came out in your nightgown and a light robe and then you saw him – tan, tattooed muscles flexing in the sun. Golden hair, big rough hands, dirty jeans and his pretty full lips whistling a tune as he worked. He was a prize and you had your eyes set on him.

You took a shower and jumped into a bathing suit. Without breakfast, you ran downstairs and laid on the sun lounger with a book. Pretending to read it, you kept staring at the guy. He was trying to ignore you but your uncomfortable gaze finally made him look at you, too, and it nearly took your breath away – his baby blue eyes, long eyelashes and the dark mystery hiding underneath.

Benny Cross was unlike any man you had ever known. He was from a different side of town – the wrong side of the tracks, they’d say. You had always had friends amongst the children of your father’s friends. Even in high school you hadn’t been exposed to men like Benny Cross since your school had been private and quite expensive.

“Any problem?” He asked you after turning off the lawn mower and you were a little taken aback by his careless and rude tone but the deepness of that voice made a shiver go down your spine.

He was rough and he had a raw masculine energy about him. Not a three piece suit, expensive watch and whiskey type of masculine energy – you were sick of that, honestly. No, Benny was all about beer, bar fights and worn-out blue jeans. And there was no chivalry about him, you could see that in his contemptuous stare, hear it in the rude tone of his voice.

“You’re loud,” you pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

“I am mowing the lawn,” he answered as if you were stupid or crazy.

“Oh, are you…?” You squinted your eyes at the tattoo on his left arm. “...Benny?”

He didn’t say anything to that and kept staring intensely at you. You let out a nervous giggle and hid your face with a book, pretending to go back to reading. He shrugged his arms and went back to work but you kept staring at him whenever you could.

When his job was done, he drove away on a big, beautiful Harley and you bit on your lower lip, leaning on the fence.

The second time you met Benny was at the mechanic’s garage. You were explaining to the guy named Michael all about that weird noise that your white Cadillac had been making recently when, suddenly, none of your words were audible anymore because of the loud, roaring sound of the motorbike. Irritated but intrigued you turned around with crossed arms and your eyes sparkled at the sight of Benny parking his Harley outside the garage.

“Excuse me,” Michael nodded at you and walked outside. You leaned on your car and turned your head to see him and Benny and be able to hear their conversation.

“Hi, Benny, man. Need anything special today?” Michael asked after shaking Benny’s hand.

Benny spotted you as he furrowed his brow and you looked away, fixing your hair nonchalantly.

“Just dropped by, gotta borrow some tools,” Benny explained and walked inside the garage with his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

This time he was wearing a jeans vest and you noticed he was a part of a gang. It was written right on his back – The Vandals.

“Hi again,” you spoke up first as he was looking around, trying to find the tools. Michael followed him inside and approached you again.

“We know each other?” Benny asked, pretending to be surprised.

“You were mowing my lawn,” you reminded him as you looked him up and down as if he was a dessert.

“I don’t remember,” Benny shrugged his arms.

You didn’t say anything to that. You felt hurt so you just looked down. Benny grabbed a few tools, showed them to Michael and then he drove away. Only when the sound of his engine was disappearing in the distance, Michael cleared his throat.

“Sorry for commenting, it’s none of my business but you don’t wanna anythin’ with Benny Cross, believe me,” he told you and you raised an eyebrow at him. “He’s nothin’ but trouble, yeah?”

“He seemed to be friendly with you,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, I’m friendly with all of ‘em. Don’t want my garage to burn down,” he laughed nervously.

You hummed to yourself. Yeah, perhaps that was more trouble that you could handle.

You nearly gave up on daydreaming about Benny – the mechanic’s words had made you realise that he was much more dangerous for your liking.

But then you met this one girl who had gone to the same school as Benny.

You went out with your friends who had met this girl in college and she was from the same side of town as him. She had gotten into college thanks to the scholarships and during the fancy dinner your friends had taken her to, you mentioned a handsome bad boy named Benny Cross. They kept giggling but this girl – Sherry – she did not.

“Oh, I know him,” she only said and took a sip of her drink through the straw.

“What?” You locked your eyes with hers. “Really?”

“Mm-hm,” she nodded her head nervously. She was still uneasy around people like you, scared of saying or doing something wrong and getting kicked out of the group of fancy friends. “We went to the same school.”

“And what’s he like?” You asked her.

“I’m not surprised what he ended up like,” Sherry cleared her throat and blushed a little. “I mean, he didn’t have it easy growing up. Never was a good student, always a troublemaker. I think he was taking out on others what he was going through at home,” she told you and you pursed your lips as you leaned back on your chair and took a sip of your own drink.

Well, you were doomed. You started to feel bad for him. Benny Cross was a trouble ‘round town but you wanted him. Perhaps there was some truth to the fact you just saw him as a challenge – he’d make a good accessory, too. But you weren’t as shallow as people claimed you were just because of your daddy’s money. You had known from the beginning there was something more to him, some depth that seemed to be unreachable but you wanted to get there.

You hated yourself for that but you started to find excuses to go to that dirty pub where The Vandals were hanging around. It wasn’t safe to go there all alone as a young woman so you would always convince one of your friends to go with you. For them, it was an exciting adventure – however, they usually would only go with you once. And never again.

You kept bravery coming. Spending your daddy’s money on awful drinks in a quality you were not used to. Leaving hours later to catch a cab, smelling like sweat, grease and cigarettes. Being hit on by so many awful dudes that you had to politely reject… And all of that just to stare at that one quiet guy at the pool table who kept occasionally giving you contemptuous glances.

“You should give up on that guy,” your friend Marissa told you after a night out at the pub. She had always been the most honest one of your friends. “He’s clearly not into you and your presence is bothering him. And honestly? You’re kinda like a stalker, darling,” she said when you were in the taxi cab.

“I’m just curious about him,” you shrugged your arms. “All the guys in that club are walking up to me and asking me out. All of ‘em except for Benny!”

“You should get the message already,” she rolled her eyes.

You were hurt by her words but she was right. After seven nights spent at that pub, it would be embarrassing to keep coming back. And your parents were getting suspicious, too.

For a woman who was supposed to stay away, you were certainly not doing good. You found yourself bailing him out after hearing that he had been arrested not so far away from your house for breaking the speed limit and causing a harmless car crash – as in, no one was hurt. Except for the cars.

Desperate, you knew. But it was perhaps the only way for Benny Cross to finally notice you.

You watched him being walked out while nervously tapping your finger on the counter. He looked sexy as ever, being dragged by two policemen. His hair a slight mess, his leather jacket under the jeans vest. Heavy boots, white jeans dirty from the grease… And then he gave you that contemptuous look again that you had known pretty well. You swallowed a lump in your throat.

“You again?” He asked, sparing you a glance before getting his personal belongings back.

He put his rings back onto his fingers and lit a cigarette before walking out of the building, just like that. Your heart skipped a beat. You rushed after him, into the cold air of the dark night.

“Benny!” You called for him and he turned around, lazily. He didn’t say anything and now it was awkward. You didn’t know what to say to him. “I’m sorry,” you only whispered. “Sorry for helping you,” you added with slight irony in your voice.

“My friends would have bailed me out,” he shrugged his arms. “And they gonna give you the money back. I don’t want to owe you nothin’,” he drawled out through gritted teeth and began walking towards his motorbike that was parked outside the police station.

“Why do you treat me this way? I don’t want the money back,” you followed him with tears pricking your eyes.

“Why would you pay for me? I’m a stranger,” he leaned on his motorbike and looked deep into your eyes. “Why do you keep following me around? I know why. And listen, it’s not that I don’t fancy you or anythin’, don’t you think. But I won’t be your fucking toy. I ain’t no purse dog,” he clenched his jaw. “Don’t wanna owe you nothin’. Don’t wanna owe nothin’ to you rich folks,” he added angrily. “Want me to fuck you, I can. But I won’t stay around to be your pet.”

“I…” You sighed as your lower lip trembled. You looked down. You didn’t know what to say anymore. He was right. He was only a stranger and you kept following him around. Marissa had been right, too. Still, his assumptions hurt you.

You couldn’t explain why you were so drawn to him but you were. From the moment you had seen him. And it was more than some stupid one night stand or a wild adventure. But he would never understand it, would he?

“I’m sorry,” you only said and looked up again, straight into his baby blue eyes that squinted now at the sight of fresh, silent tears streaming down your cheeks. “I’ve made a fool outta myself. Wanted to show you kindness but you know nothing about it, am I right?” You sniffed the tears back and turned around to approach your own vehicle parked nearby.

With shaky hands, you sat behind the driving wheel and started the engine of your white Cadillac to drive away.

After that incident with bailing Benny out, you completely gave up on him. This time for good, of that you were sure. And you hadn’t mentioned to anyone that you had spent so much money to bail him out either. Your parents would kill you and your friends would never stop teasing you about it.

Liking bad boys had its price, apparently.

A few days had passed and on that morning after breakfast you decided to sunbathe by the swimming pool and relax. You put on your bathing suit and made yourself comfortable on the sun lounger with a record player in the background. Your father was out of the house at work and your mother was shopping. You were home alone and didn’t expect any guests so when you heard a ringbell from the front door, you got startled a little.

Carefully, you stood up and lowered the volume of Brenda Lee’s song playing. You put on a sheer shirt over your bathing suit and you approached the front door, hoping it was the mailman.

But when you opened the door, you ended up face-to-face with Benny Cross himself, leaning on the doorframe and looking you up and down.

“Yes? What is it?” You pretended not to know him although your heart picked up its pace.

“Stop playing. Got your money,” he told you and reached into the pocket of his jacket to hand you a few bills.

“I don’t want them,” you shook your head.

“Your folks at home?” Benny tried to look behind you.

“No, I’m alone,” you admitted.

A short, awkward silence occurred. You kept staring at each other as if you had a staring contest.

“Wanna come in?” You eventually took a step back and he hesitated before nodding and going inside.

He kept staring at everything as you were leading him to the living room. He reminded you of a curious cat, the way his head was spinning and eyes widening.

“You been here before,” you rolled your eyes.

“Not inside, no,” he admitted. “Your old man didn’t let me,” Benny explained and you looked down.

“Sit down,” you pointed at the armchairs once you were finally in the living room. “Wherever you want.”

“No, thanks. I like standin’,” Benny put his hands inside the pockets of his jacket. “I want you to take them money. It’s a matter of honour to me,” he explained.

“Male’s sense of honour is a fragile thing,” you smiled nervously. “Alright, give them to me then,” you reached your hand out and Benny put the bills inside it. His fingers lingered on and he gently closed your hand around the money.

“Thank you,” he mumbled out and you looked up at his face, surprised.

“You thank me?”

“And I’m sorry,” he added, his cheeks turning crimson red.

“For what?” You asked. Not to tease or torture him but you were genuinely surprised that he had said those words.

“For being rude and making you cry. You were… You were kind to me. I don’t know why. Maybe because of the reasons I had told you about. But maybe not. Either way, you’re kind to me and I don’t know why but… You saved my ass,” he looked away.

“I don’t know why either,” you admitted with a nervous chuckle and that made Benny lay his eyes on you again. “I don’t know why I’m this way around you. You must think I’m crazy but I swear, I’m not always like that.”

“You showing up at that pub seven times in a row was kinda cute,” Benny admitted.

“You counted?” You bit on your lower lip and he sighed after realising that he had accidentally revealed too much. “That’s adorable,” you quickly added.

“Your folks know?” Benny asked suddenly and you froze.

“Know about what?”

“The pub, the money, bailing me out,” he explained and took a step further to be closer to you. You remained in the same place.

“No… They wouldn’t like that,” you admitted.

“And you like that, hm? That they wouldn’t like that,” Benny pointed out, now standing right in front of you. You looked up to meet his intense gaze.

“No, I don’t. I’m not what you think,” you assured him. “But I know you don’t believe me.”

“Prove that to me,” Benny smirked and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Hm?” You asked.

“Prove that to me and come with me,” he extended his rough hand and your heart skipped a beat at the sight.

“Come with you… where?” You asked with a heavy beating heart.

“Dunno yet,” Benny shrugged his arms.

“I… I need to change,” you told him and he smiled slightly. There was a hint of disappointment in that smile, you noticed.

“I’ll be waiting outside by my Harley,” he told you and left the living room.

Benny didn’t believe you would actually change your clothes and join him. He was smoking a cigarette and leaning on the motorbike while staring at the front doors of your house. He was throwing the cigarette away, about to drive away, when he spotted you rushing out of the house in a pair of blue jeans and a white tank top. You waved your hand at him to wait, so he did, although the engine was already roaring impatiently.

“Thought I wouldn’t come?” You raised your eyebrows at him playfully.

“Exactly that,” Benny smirked. “Hop on,” he pointed with his chin at the back of his motorbike. “Ever been on one?”

“Nope,” you admitted as you sat behind him.

Benny nodded and drove away – slowly at first, not to scare you due to your lack of experience. You wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed your cheek to the back of his vest.

He took you to the abandoned factory building on the other side of town and at first, you started to have anxious thoughts. But after a while you heard noises of other people and the music. Benny parked his bike and helped you hop off it as he grabbed you by your waist.

“You took me to a party?” You asked and he nodded. “Okay, come on,” you held his wrist to drag him to the direction of the sound.

You were a bit excited, actually, to join a party of the motorbike gang. You were glad you had chosen to wear jeans and a tank top instead of some dress you’d probably be teased about.

At the sight of you, the guys whistled and you could feel your cheeks heating up. Most of them had been hitting on you at the pub.

“There she is, Benny’s saviour,” one of the guys chuckled as he took a sip of beer.

“Not really. I took my money back,” you replied with a grin.

“Told you she’d take them eventually,” some other guy laughed as he patted his friend on the chest.

“Well, I like money,” you told him. He didn’t have to know that the only reason you agreed for Benny to pay you back was his honour or ego or whatever. Sometimes it was good to pretend to be more shallow and spoiled than you actually were.

“For a girl who likes money, you have a poor taste,” some girl giggled and the rest laughed.

“That’s enough,” the oldest man with the roughest voice ordered and there was silence suddenly. “Come ‘ere, child,” he pointed at you.

You looked up at Benny, unsure. But Benny only nodded his head. You decided to trust him and approached the man.

“My name’s Johnny,” he introduced himself and extended his hand. You shook it. “Don’t worry, little one, nothing’s gonna happen to you here. Thank you for helping my boy Benny the other day.”

“No problem,” you smiled, shyly, a bit intimidated by his aura.

“Now go, have fun,” he winked at you.

You turned around and didn’t know what to do, so you went back to Benny who was now drinking beer by the fire. You stood in front of him awkwardly and he moved slightly to make space for you and you sat next to him after that. He offered you a bottle of beer and you grabbed it.

You expected the eyes of everyone to be on you two but they were not. In fact, everyone stopped paying attention to you and it felt nice. It also gave you some sort of security. Even the guys – the same ones who had been hitting on you, now no longer were staring. Perhaps because you had come with Benny. And you noticed – even after this short while – that they all had mad respect for him. And feared him a little, too.

Was he the craziest out of them all? He didn’t look like that. He was calm and quiet most of the time. Yeah, yeah… He had that dark look in his eyes, that dangerous sparkle, the mystery. He probably was a real wild beast when angered. But you hadn’t experienced that side of him… yet.

“If you’re as bad as they say, then I guess I’m cursed,” you told him before taking the first sip of the beer. He furrowed his brows at you and then he chuckled at you coughing at the taste.

“First time drinking beer like that?” Benny teased.

“I’ll get used to it,” you assured him.

But you didn’t mean just the beer and you both knew that.

“I’m glad,” he answered, looking deep into your eyes.

MASTERLIST || BENNY MASTERLIST

#sansaorgana: Answered #lovely anons #benny cross x reader #austin butler x reader #*benny #lilysfiction

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memoirofasparklemuff1n · 2 months ago

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omg just read ur long sleeves fix it was sSOOOO GOOD! if u write part 2 i will be tuned in & reading ☝️☝️

i miss you, i'm sorry- r.c. x reader

part 2 of long sleeves!!!

OMGG IM SOO GLAD YOU LIKED IT <3

warnings: swearing angst (?) mention of drugs, rehab, and reader is so fucking codependent, like girl?? anyway, this is horrible y’all i cannot for the life of me write a happy ending so i tried my best 😞 can you tell i’m depressed LMAOOO? YALL SHES DEPRESSED TOO 😔 but seriously if i could make it happier hmu, i won’t get mad i promise. i’m new at this whole writing thing 🤠 not proofread cuz i wanted to post this already so tell me if there are big mistakes and my first language isn’t english so sorry if there are errors

disclaimer: the reader's depression is based on my own experiences, everybody is different and what i might go through isn't the same as what another person goes through. with that said, if you find any of these topics triggering, i understand! so, please always take care of yourself <3

ps: sorry this took so long, i've just been busy with school and my dad has been sick for a few days now so i haven't had time.

I'M ALSO HALFWAY DONE THROUGH THE FLASHBACKS FOR NO BODY, NO CRIME. i just haven't had the time fml. hopefully tomorrow 🤞. ok enough whining and into the story 🥁

want it, so i got it, did it, so it's done

making the bed started playing and the first line felt like a punch to the gut. i hated when life kicked you when you were already down.

i quickly changed to a cheery workout playlist that felt more mocking, in a sense, but decided it was better to not relate to the lyrics than listening to my despair sing back to me.

after that day in tannyhill, i'd decided to start running at night. in a silly way i thought that maybe running would burn away my pain in a healthy way. though how healthy running on barely any sleep, with nothing but depressive thoughts in my brain, was beyond me.

still, at least this way i felt like i was doing something. that i was taking action instead of moping. that doesn't make any sense. ugh, shut the fuck up. i really didn't know whose side i was on half the time.

the night sky was clear, making the stars wink at me as if they knew something i didn't. the sea breeze caressed my face, combing its fingers through my hair and drying away my tears.

running equated crying but by the time i got home i would be so exhausted that i couldn't even think. which was, of course, the ultimate goal. not think of him.

six months had passed and it didn't hurt any less. on the contrary, all i could think was how i'd abandoned him. probably when he needed me the most. two weeks after our breakup, sarah called me to tell me that rafe was terribly sick and they were taking him to the hospital. i'd debated whether i should tell her what had happened but she then said that she was aware of the situation and that i shouldn't go see him. she was only letting me know and, in a way, it felt like she was blaming me.

that was the last time i had contact with the camerons, town gossip and my mother becoming the only ties left between us. he'd gone to rehab and was apparently taking better care of himself, his family supporting him every step of the way.

fucking hypocrites. ward never cared when i told him about his son's addiction, instead saying that i should keep quiet, that everything would be okay. rose only cared about new shopping places to spend the family's money. sarah had started spending time with her new boyfriend and barely came home and wheezie was far too young.

so that left me. it had always been me, but when word got out of how bad rafe he was, they then played the card of ignorance and became the holy family.

i took a deep breath and slowed down to a jog, unaware of where the fuck i was. i looked at my surroundings for the first time and of course, i was in front of tannyhill. the gates were close but i could hear muffled voices on the other side. stepping closer to listen like the eavesdropper i was.

i looked through the bars of the gate, only to see him or well his back. he was with ward, who was lowering another suitcase to the ground. i frowned but i then heard his voice saying my name.

Ward turned his head sharply in his direction, "you are not seeing her again, alright? she's the one that got you into this mess in the first place." oh so the asshole blamed me.

he turned to face his dad and i gasped. his hair was buzzed and he looked older, healthier. he looked good but i couldn't help but feel like this was a different person entirely. i felt a slight pang in my chest because i'd been the one who had insisted on him leaving his hair longer and now he'd erased that too.

his voice interrumpted my thoughts, "dad, that is not true and you know it." why was he defending me? in a way what ward said was true. i'd left him alone that night.

his father stepped closer to him and put his hands on his son’s shoulders, “son, trust me when I tell you that it is best for you to stay away from her. don’t set yourself up for disappointment. We know where that led you.” Ward then kissed his forehead like one did to a child in a condescending manner.

Ward then picked up the suitcases left and turned to enter the house, leaving him standing there with a strange expression on his face. He lifted his gaze and somehow found mine, like they always did. I’d forgotten how we always sensed the other, no matter how much time had passed. My heartbeat sped up, causing me to quickly turn around and ran away from him as fast as I could.

“He is such a good father to those kids, especially Rafe.” Vanessa, my mother’s friend said, swooning over ward. Like god, he’s married, get a life.

Either way it seemed like every corner of this island is haunted. Ever since he’d come back as a stellar young man, all the women at the country club started obsessing over him, but more so his father. They practically held him as a saint and it only made my blood boil.

I felt my mothers gaze on me when his name was mentioned, noting the way I flinched and seemed particularly interested in the half eaten strawberries on my plate. They continued to chatter, causing me to tune them out and look at my surroundings for a distraction. Big mistake.

The doors had opened as if on cue, and there he was with a new found confidence that was unfamiliar to me. Before I could look away his eyes found mine, quieting everything around me, dèjá vu flooding my body. We looked at each other for what seemed an eternity until ward came up behind him, clapping his hand on his shoulder to turn him away from me. The colder version of his son’s eyes bore into mine in a warning. Stay away from him.

I looked back down at my plate no longer interested in my food. My eyes welled up and I knew that if i stayed a minute longer on this table I would start sobbing or worse.

“Mom? I’m not feeling well so I’m going home,” my voice quiet in her ear and she realized what I meant.

She nodded, “take the car, ok?”

“It’s ok, I can walk home.” I needed to clear my head and driving wasn’t the best idea.

“Are you sure?” The concern in her eyes made my heart wrench.

“I’m sure, mom. Thanks.” I stood up and voicing my goodbyes, leaving the club as fast as I could.

The sun was out and the sky was clear of clouds, a stark contrast of how I felt inside. I walked down the path, golf carts filled with kooks passing me by. All of them chattering about the next party or newest deal they had closed.

I kept walking and walking until I reached the boardwalk, which was thankfully empty. I sat down on the edge, swinging my feet over the water with the girl staring back at me and somehow looked as if she was drowning.

The wind carried the sound of footsteps behind me, my body tensing as his perfume arriving along with his shadow looming over me. The drowning girl hid away, leaving me alone. I almost begged her to take me with her.

“Why do you always run away?” my heart sank and then restarted when I heard his voice. For the first time in months, I heard the world clearly again. I hadn’t realized the power it had over me. Didn’t you?

Who was I kidding? He would always be my favorite person, everything about me was shaped by him. My favorite color was blue, my favorite smell was his cologne, my favorite taste were his lips, my favorite sound in the world was his voice, his body my favorite thing to touch. But most of all, his soul.

I took a deep breath before lifting my gaze to his. The knot on my throat made it hard to speak, “Who said I was running away?”

He scoffed before sitting down next to me. “I know you. Or at least I thought I did.” His tone sounded reproachful, his eyes searching my face. this time i really looked at him, gone were his red, glassy eyes, the gauntness of his cheeks but most importantly, the anger that had felt permanently etched into his features every time he looked at me.

the buzz cut now made his features more prominent, his body was stronger and not as skinny as when he’d been living off cocaine and god knew what else.

he looked more like the rafe i’d met forever ago, but there was still something that wasn’t quite there. his innocence. which wasn’t the one of a child, but more so the type of innocence that comes with ignorance. the type where you think you can get away with anything and that bad things only happen to somebody else, but never to you. no matter how bad you behave, you genuinely believed there would be no consequences.

and the boy in front of me knew how untrue that belief was.

“rafe, i—” the knot on my throat became worse, preventing me from talking further. great, now here come the waterworks!

i turned my face away so he couldn’t see my tears but it was too late.

he took hold of my face, “look at me.”

i tried to jerk away but it was no use. i had no other choice but to cry silently while he judged me.

“im going to talk and you’re going to listen, understood?” his voice now held a tone of authority i’d never heard before.

that’s kinda hot. dude, now is not the time.

i nodded because what the fuck was i supposed to do?

he turned so both of his hands held my face now. then he did something i wasn’t expecting, he leaned in and kissed my forehead for what felt like an eternity.

when he pulled away his gaze held mine, with a force stronger than any physical restraint i could possibly be held in.

the tears were flowing freely so i probably looked like a drowned cat at the moment.

“im not mad at you, ok? i hope you know that i never asked for you to not visit me. i know it was my dad that didn’t want you near me, but i swear that the only person i ever wanted by my side was you.

“i won’t deny that i was furious when you left me that night. i only got worse because i didn’t have anyone to stop me, or at least try to. i felt like you were the last person that still believed in me, who would always be beside me. and i took you for granted.” his words felt like a knife through my heart. i abandoned him.

“rafe, im sorry. i shouldn’t have left you like that. not when you needed me the most.” my words barely made sense but he somehow understood. he always did.

“no. you did the right thing. i hurt you, i told you that i hated you. when all you’d ever done for me was love me. i’m sorry, ok? if you hadn’t left then maybe i wouldn’t have gotten help.” he lowered his hands to his lap, my face burning where they had been resting.

“i know you tried to help me. that you talked to my dad about how i was and i know that he dismissed you. he only took me to the hospital because i overdosed and he didn’t want the island to know how ward cameron’s perfect son was a drug addict.” he laughed in a humorless manner, “hell, he even paid everyone at the hospital to keep quiet. that didn’t help much, frankly. gossip always finds its way.”

i wanted to say something but i could tell he wasn’t done so i waited until he felt ready.

this time his voice was hoarse, making me realize he wanted to cry too. i couldn’t take it anymore because nothing could hurt me more than seeing him in pain.

“rafe?” i murmured. he looked up with a broken expression causing me to wrap my arms around him. i felt him tense for a second before he hugged me back tightly.

my shirt got wet with our tears and we clung onto each other like a lifeline, with rafe repeating my name like a mantra. after a while, we pulled away and he held my face between his hands like before, only this time much gentler.

“i miss you, im sorry.”

“i miss you too, rafe.” i fell back into him, resting my head on his shoulder. we sat silently for a while before he spoke.

“can we at least be friends?” the question caught me by surprise.

“you’ve always been my best friend, rafe. but again i’m sorry for not being there, i should’ve done more.”

“no, you couldn’t have. it was the way things were supposed to be.”

he played with my hair like he used to, “you’ve always been my best friend too, kid.”

i punched him playfully at the name, making him chuckle. i pulled back to see his face and i wiped away the few tears that were left with my hand. he fell silent, leaning into my touch, “i love you, you know? not being close to you drove me insane. and it makes me so happy to see that you are healthy, at least physically.

“i want to help you in any way that i can and i want to be there from now on, if—“ his lips crushing onto mine cut me off before i could finish. his hands were in my hair, holding me in place as if afraid i’d run away again.

only i knew i wouldn’t. not this time. he groaned when i bit his lower lip, softly. he ran his tongue along mine before i let him in. i sighed into the kiss and pulled him impossibly closer. our lips explained more than any words that came out of them ever could. i separated from him to breathe and he only kept kissing my cheeks, jaw, neck until he reached my collarbone where he rested his head with quick, short breaths.

“i love you too,” he said. i touched his hair and ran my fingers over the short strands.

“i like your hair, by the way,” i murmured.

he laughed, pulling back. “really? i got it because i thought you would hate it.”

i rolled my eyes, “are you serious? either way, you look good with any haircut.”

“i wasn’t exactly planning on this to go like this. in my head, i was going to confront you and tell you all the ways i’d been miserable but that went away when i saw you that night by my house.”

“oh.”

he chuckled, “yeah. oh. anyway, i was telling my dad how i was going to ask why you never visited me and that’s why he said what you heard.

“i then realized it had been him and as if life liked playing tricks on me, there you were at the gate with a sad expression. yet before i could say anything you left running. i wanted to go after you but my dad called me inside and i didn’t want a fight that night. so i waited until i saw you today and when i was going to ask you to talk to me, again my dad came along. but then i saw you leave and i figured it was now or never, so i excused myself and he was so busy talking to the others at the table that he didn’t notice.”

i scoffed, “well, i’m guessing he noticed by now.”

he laughed, “yeah.”

we fell silent but i still had one more thing to ask, “how did you know i was here?” though i think i already knew the answer, after all i hadn’t exactly been surprised when he came. more like a sense of having your intuition confirmed.

“remember the night we met? i was alone and drunk, saying i was going for a night swim when i saw you sitting here alone. which should’ve alerted me that you were a weirdo but between your beauty and the alcohol, those thoughts went to shit.”

i blushed slightly, “i’m not a weirdo, jackass. i’d had a rough night.”

“i know, kid. i’m just messing with you and besides, i might’ve drowned that night if you hadn’t been here,” he smiled fondly but a bit sad as well.

“so, that makes me your knight in shining armor?” i grinned.

he scowled in mock annoyance, “how dare you mock a damsel in distress?”

i chuckled and felt a heavy weight lift off my chest. i felt lighter than i had in a while, and all because of him.

“my apologies, dear.”

he took my hand with a smile and brought it to his lips for a kiss, before placing it against his cheek.

“but to answer your question, we always find each other,” his words sinking in. that was true. we always did as if there was some invisible string tying him to me.

“you’re right. although you’re still not beating the stalker allegations,” i teased.

“ugh shut up, it was one time!” he groaned.

i burst out laughing, “you followed me for a whole day! that’s some stalker behavior type shit.”

“c’mon, kid. i wanted to give you your bracelet back and i didn’t know where you lived,” his eyes widening in a too innocent way which caused me to narrow mine.

“a bracelet that wasn’t even mine. plus you could’ve just given it to me when you first saw me,” i crossed my arms in front of my chest with a raised brow.

“oh c’mon, but where’s the fun in that?”

i pushed his shoulder, playfully only for him to laugh and hug me.

“i really just wanted to know if you were with someone else, so i wouldn’t make a fool of myself.” he whispered in my ear.

“you could’ve just asked,” i rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see me.

“i wanted to be cool about it, ok? i had a reputation to maintain,” he joked but i knew he was a little serious. he’d been the epitome of a rich, arrogant, country club boy.

“i thought you were such an asshole.” who the fuck wears shades inside of a convenience store? you guessed it: rafe cameron.

he gasped in mock surprise, “you’re just saying that because you had the hots for me.”

“pfft, sure buddy. i think you’re projecting a little,” i laughed.

“i never said i didnt,” this time his tone was a little too serious making my heart beat faster.

“can we try this again?” he asked shyly.

i pondered for a moment before answering, “yes, but i want you to let me help you this time, ok?”

he moved his head to look me in the eye, “i promise.”

“ok, but wait. what about your father?” i’d somehow forgotten how he hated me now. or maybe always had.

“what about him? i’m an adult, i can make my own decisions. besides it’s none of his business. he’s the one that got us here in the first place.” his tone was now angry, which was rare when he spoke of his father. it was usually filled with frustration and sadness when it came to him. and i knew how important his father’s approval was to him.

“rafe, i don’t know. he’s still your father and i don’t want to come between you two,” i lowered my eyes so he wouldn’t see the tears threatening to spill.

he was silent for a moment before lifting my chin with his finger, frowning when he noticed my expression.

“you’re the love of my life. i’m not losing you again, ok? he’ll have to understand and i will talk to him. i’ll tell him how things really went down. plus, he isn’t innocent in any of this either.”

pursing my lips, i nodded. “ok” i didn’t really believe ward would be capable of changing his mind, but if it made rafe happy then i would try and compromise.

rafe searched for my eyes with a soft smile, “i love you.”

i returned the smile, “i love you too.”

he then got up to his feet, reaching his hand down to help me stand. after a few more kisses and a hug, he took me to his truck. we drove around with no particular destination in mind but with the sole purpose of being by ourselves without prying eyes and judging remarks.

i hoped deep down that i wasn’t making a mistake and that everything would be ok.

and as if on cue, “everything is going to be ok.” i turned my head in surprise at his words.

“don’t act so shocked, kid. i know you better than i know myself.” he then lifted my hand again and kissed it like he’d done on the boardwalk.

i chuckled and leaned my head back, closing my eyes. with the windows down, the ocean breeze, his hand drawing circles on the back of mine, and the soft music playing, i felt myself float away.

“sleep, angel. i love you.”

and then i woke up.

JK JK IT’S NOT A DREAM.

or is it? HEHEHEHEHE

ALSO WHY IS SHE SO CODEPENDENT??? LIKE GIRL STAND UP (says the one who wrote her 👯‍♀️)

anywayyyy, if you made it this far THANK YOU. I LOVE YOU!!!

please feel free to write comments or whatever, i love talking to you all 💞

and if you liked this check out my other stories!!

im currently writing a murder mystery kind of story and i only have two chapters for now, but i will make flashbacks with like text messages and diary entries and stuff. i’m trying to make it as if the reader is part of the investigation (I HOPE IM DOING A GOOD JOB) and i already have how i want the story to end but writing it is the hard part. like how long do i make it?? i don’t want to rush it but i really want to finish it because the characters take a mind of their own when i write. does that make sense? prob not lol

div creds!!- by @anitalenia

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lowkeychenle · 1 year ago

Text

Cruel Summer [ZCL] (M)

Description: He wants you. Everything to do with you--your heart, your body, all while keeping your friendship. What's a man to do during a 30-day hook up to get you to stay? (This fic is Chenle's POV!)

A/N: this is inspired by 'Cruel Summer' by Taylor Swift, please do listen to this song because it is SO AMAZING.

Genre: Fluff/Smut/Angst (very minimal angst, like u rlly have to squint)

Content Warnings: LOTS OF FLUFF AND SMUT. ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK OKAY. Drinking, alcohol, intoxication, some instances of friends being shitty/pushy Smut warnings: this has so much smut oh my god. anyway, use of pet names 'sunshine,' 'baby,' 'pretty,' and combinations of them, rough, unprotected sex, protected sex, choking, the smut rlly progressively gets softer but kinkier? a wee bit of dacrophyilia, one oral scene (m receiving), and i think that's it...i'm so sorry if I missed one this thing is so fucking long

Word Count: 20,050 (seriously wtf did I DO?!)

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x fem!Reader (feat. Mark, Haechan, Jaemin, Jeno, and two female OCs, Chaeyoung & Heewon)

Juliet's Masterlist | Requests

Day 1 | June 1st

Chenle, for his entire life, had always said summer was his favorite season. As time went on and he got older, that sentiment got less and less real to him. Now approaching his 23rd year of life, he’d been around long enough to know things younger Chenle never would’ve dreamed of.

Every single summer since high school graduation, Chenle has invited his friends to his family’s vacation house on the beach—including you, his best friend since middle school. You’d seen him through all his awkward phases, and the best part of his month-long summer excursion was seeing you despite how busy the two of you were throughout the year.

For thirty days, everything was normal. You were around, and he relished in your company.

For thirty days, he was able to forget everything except for you and a handful of other friends.

Not that he could ever not have you at the forefront of his mind. Despite the busy schedules you both endured, you somehow ended up crashing at his house often, or vice versa. He often occupied the other side of your bed and, for a long time, thought it was completely normal despite the very odd reactions some people had when he explained he wasn’t your boyfriend.

Nothing had ever happened. At least, not literally. He’d thought about making a move and kissing you, but he decided it wasn’t worth losing your friendship. Throughout your years together, he’d seen you get in relationships, get your heart broken, and break hearts. You’re comfortable being at your lowest with him, and he builds you back up piece by piece without complaint.

“Chenle,” you call from outside, jogging up to the front door. “Is everything in the car? Jaemin and Jeno are almost here.”

He raises his eyebrows as he glances around his house, wondering if he’s forgetting anything. And without meaning to, he scans over you as if he hasn’t been around you all day. Your skin glistens with a thin sheen of sweat from the overwhelming heat outside, and your shorts climb up your thighs with every passing second, but he swears he doesn’t notice.

“I think so. If we’re missing anything, we can just run into town,” he suggests, tagging his fingers on his sides to stop himself from reaching out to you.

Chenle had a little secret—one he hated keeping from you, but had to nonetheless—and it was simply that he was in love with you. It took him years to come to terms with it. After all this time, he accepted it. If he’s around you, the way he acts doesn’t have to change in the slightest. He’s always treated you as more than a best friend, as you’ve done to him, so there’s no reason for him to ruin that…right?

“You good?” You tilt your head at him. “We’re wasting time.”

“We have a whole month,” Chenle retorts.

“And you’re taking away from our first day.” Your eyes narrow, but before he responds, you turn your back on him and rush out the door, yelling at who he assumes is Jaemin finally arriving.

The four of you are driving together, while Mark, Hyuck, Heewon, and Chaeyoung were taking Mark’s car. They’d probably be a bit late, but Chenle didn’t mind.

His favorite thing was road trips—especially if you were involved. Even when Jaemin and Jeno slept in the backseat, you and Chenle had the radio up, the windows down, and you were singing at the top of your lungs. Your best look is when you’re this happy, yelling lyrics without a care in the world. He shouldn’t, but he steals glances at you whenever he can. You sing, looking at him and grabbing his arm and shaking him depending on what songs were on. Giggles pour out of your mouth when he gives you an incredulous look.

The song you replayed the most these days was Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift, and he would never get tired of it. Every time the chorus came on, you swept him up in your performance, and he almost laughed at the way he related to the lyrics.

And I screamed for whatever it's worth

I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?

He wanted more, but he liked you like this. Hands flying into the air as you scream along to the music. Sooner or later, he ends up joining you. Whenever you’re involved, it’s not weird to find Chenle a single step behind you.

Chenle’s family had a large house on the beach. It was split down the middle, and one of his parents’ conditions was that the boys would stay on one side and the girls on the other. They didn’t have a way to prove any different, but everyone respected their rules.

Jaemin and Jeno typically played whatever game console was in the living room while Chenle got to spend a little bit of alone time with you before the rest of the hyper ones got in.

He stands across the kitchen, watching as you unload all of the snacks you brought onto the counter. After a long drive, the sun is setting on the horizon, and the pretty colors reflecting off your skin have him beyond distracted. It wouldn’t be weird for him to hug you. He’s been clingy with you since…well, since he first met you.

“You sure you don’t want any help?” he asks.

“It’s just little things.” You shrug, waving him off. “That drive was…exhausting.”

He laughs, biting down on his bottom lip to stop himself.

“What?” You continue taking boxes out of the bags.

“The drive always knocks you out, but you do the same thing every time anyway.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m gonna sit with Jaem and Jeno. Come out when you’re done?”

You grin at him. “I’ll only be a few more minutes. Go ahead.”

He leaves you in the kitchen, the nightfall creeping into the house and making his eyes heavy. His bed calls to him from upstairs, but he wants to wait for you. And he doesn’t have a choice but to wait for Mark and the rest of the gang, because they’ll have to have a way inside.

When you join him, you’re equally as tired as him. You slump next to him on the couch, resting your head on his shoulder. With your warmth pressed against him, he smiles and wraps his arm around you. Jaemin and Jeno are battling away, sleep not touching them any time soon after the nap they had in the car.

“You okay?” he whispers, careful not to alert the other two.

Nodding, you curl into him further, sighing into his chest. He hugs you, and somehow, you end up curled into a ball on his lap, head buried in his neck. Your breath tickles his skin, but he doesn’t dare disturb you.

He cradles the back of your head, rubbing his thumb on your scalp. When your breathing steadies, he relaxes. You’re asleep, and if he knows himself at all, he’ll be following you in no time. Any time you’re tired after a long day, you curl into him like this, and he’s come to relish in these moments.

His eyes flutter shut, his own exhaustion peeking through. Absent-mindedly, he presses his lips to the top of your head.

“Ew,” Jaemin groans, giving Chenle a disgusted look. “They make rooms for whatever’s going on there.”

Chenle glares at him once, and he purses his lips and turns his attention back to the game.

“Seriously, if you want to go to bed, we’ll wait for the others,” Jeno offers. “We are capable of opening a door.”

Chenle contemplates it for a moment. He knows he should be the one to greet everyone, but the gentle snores escaping you makes him want to cuddle you properly. It wouldn’t be the first time one of you “snuck in” to the other side of the house and stayed with one another. At the end of the day, he couldn’t get enough of you. Your skin is soft beneath his fingertips, and despite everyone knowing how desperately he wants you except for you, he likes to act like it’s a secret.

“Alright,” he mumbles, shifting under you to see if he’ll be able to find a way to hold onto you. “Make sure to lock it when they arrive.”

Jeno and Jaemin don’t say anything else when he lifts you up and walks you down the hall toward his bedroom. He lays you on his bed first, pulling the blankets back to settle you beneath them.

You’re so peaceful like this—face soft, the slightest smile on your lips. He finds himself dragging his thumb along your cheek just to be able to touch you. You’re perfect to him.

He climbs in next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and tugging you against his chest. You hum quietly, subconsciously turning to him and bury your head in his chest. He grins to himself at the feeling, at the idea of you being so accustomed to him that you’ll want him even in your sleep.

Kissing the top of your head, he lets out a sigh of content before resting back against his pillow.

Day 2 | June 2nd

The morning together was just like any other—you stayed cuddled up until eight came along and the others were whining down the hall about being hungry. Chenle wouldn’t ever admit it to anyone verbally, but the reason he likes these vacations so much is because of the privacy he gets with you.

Yeah, all of your friends are there, but they’re used to the level of clinginess Chenle has with you. His family, on the other hand? If they knew he woke up at 6:30 am and stayed with you wrapped up in his arms for an hour and a half…

“We should go help before they burn down the kitchen,” you murmur, sighing quietly.

“The longer I can stay in bed, the better.” He squeezes you tighter. “Five more minutes.”

You nod in agreement, shuffling closer. His hand rubs up and down your back, gently dragging his nails to help soothe you further. How you’re unaware of his feelings for you is beyond him—he’s always treated you this way. Like you’re the most important person in his life.

Because…news flash, you are.

Eventually, the two of you have to get up. Mark and Heewon are in the kitchen, and you immediately deduct that that’s a mistake. Chenle quickly shoos them from the kitchen, taking over the role of breakfast chef with your help.

While the two of you cook together, he never has to verbally ask you things. You’re in such harmony, it’s like you know every single move he’s going to make before he does.

“So,” Jaemin says, sitting down on one of the stools behind the island. “The girls said they want to go to the bar tonight. You guys down?”

“Tonight?” Your eyebrows pinch, and your lips turn downward. “It’s only day two.”

“Yeah, we’re trying to maximize our fun time,” Jeno interjects, taking a seat next to Jaemin. “We’ve only got thirty days before we return to the real world.”

“Sorry, you’ll have to count me out.” You scrunch up your nose. “But I’ll start doing things tomorrow. I just need to recharge a little more before I go out anywhere.”

Jaemin turns his attention to Chenle, either wanting him to convince you to go, or to see if Chenle will also be staying in.

“Sorry, Jaem.” Chenle shrugs. “I’m not leaving her here by herself.”

You appreciatively poke his side, something the other two boys don’t see, but it makes his heart flutter nonetheless.

“You two are only forgiven because of the breakfast you’re making. We expect hangover breakfasts tomorrow, too.” Jaemin crosses his arms over his chest and pouts.

“We’ll see.” Chenle continues chopping the onion, sending a quick smile your way when you finish washing the green peppers and putting them down in front of him.

He figured he’d be used to you by now—to the feelings he’s harbored for so long. But every time you prove, once again, that you know him just as well as you know yourself, it makes him want you so much more.

Chenle ended up making dinner, too, which was simply microwaving ramen for each person until everyone was content. Mark, Hyuck, Jaem, Jeno, Heewon, and Chaeyoung were all leaving by six, swearing they wouldn’t be home too late.

“Make them order pizza or something,” you suggest to him as you dry the dishes he washes. “They’re grown adults with money.”

“I kinda like this,” he admits.

“Cooking for the same friends you’ve been cooking for since 7th grade?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, and he snorts.

“Cooking for people in general,” he corrects. “And I like that you’re here to help me. Or just here at all.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I didn’t mean it like that. Let me appreciate your company, asshole.” He finishes up the last dish and turns the water off before handing it to you.

You hum in response, quickly drying it before setting it in the cupboard where it goes. Turning toward him, you lean the small of your back on the counter while your hands grip the edge. Your gaze scans over him, and he swears he feels his spine twist in the most delicate of ways. He loves when you look at him, and whenever you study him, he wonders what kind of lessons he teaches you.

“Thanks for staying back with me,” you say.

“Of course.” He waves you off. “I didn’t want to go to the bar anyway.”

“So, what do we do?”

Chenle chuckles. “Not a clue. The possibilities are endless, I guess.”

“Do you still have that karaoke machine?” You narrow your eyes at him as you await his response.

“Is that even a question? Hell yeah, I do. We can get it set up?”

The smile spreading across your face makes his heart skip, and despite how much he wants to reach out for your hand to pull you down the hall, all he does is gesture to the direction you need to go in.

You clap your hands, quickly following his lead.

This room used to be an office of sorts, but has since evolved now that Chenle’s parents don’t come here anymore. The desk has been pushed against the wall next to the TV, and a large couch takes up the majority of the room. A long time ago, he thought it’d be funny to buy a karaoke machine after he’d realized how much he likes to sing, and it just so happened that you felt the same way.

Every time the two of you come here, it’s a must. However, he hasn’t had the opportunity to have it be just you. Someone else was always intruding on his time, at least for the past few years.

Part of the reason he fell for you in the first place was because of how similar you were to him. You shared similar interests and passions that he didn’t usually find in other people. That, or he wasn’t looking once he realized how much he wanted you.

He loves music, and in every piece he hears, he finds you.

You deeply relate to the music you enjoy, and he admires that about you as well. You pick the songs for the evening, and he has no qualms. He’d rather listen to your picks on repeat than try and go off on his own.

The night starts off easy, some of the songs you pick are classics that you make him do every time. After three songs, you picked Cruel Summer. He knows all the lyrics by now—he memorizes everything that comes out of your pretty lips, regardless of if it’s a song or not. He’ll never forget those lyrics for as long as he lives.

Your laugh is so damn contagious. He tries his best to pull that sound from you every chance he gets, but the air around you is…bittersweet. These moments are his favorite—where he gets to have fun with you and forget the rest of the world exists. But they also make him want you more, and everything you could give him. He wants to be yours, and nights like these prove to him that you’re not.

Three songs in, and you’re both panting and laughing your asses off. Karaoke is never just singing—no, you dance until your legs feel like they’ll give out. That’s Chenle’s number one rule, that it’s never enough to sing the songs. You’ve got to perform them.

But Cruel Summer starts, and he can’t help but see the irony of you singing it in his presence. Or him joining you in it.

Fever dream high in the quiet of the night

You know that I caught it

He sings along, but he quiets himself. Listening to you has become one of his favorite pastimes, so he’ll take any opportunity he can. He dances with you, spins you around, and begs any sort of higher power that he can have you like this forever.

And it's new, the shape of your body

It's blue, the feeling I've got

And it's ooh, whoa, oh

It's a cruel summer

It's cool, that's what I tell 'em

No rules in breakable heaven

A gold gleam catches in the dim lighting when he twirls you in a circle, and he grins. He loves when you wear that bracelet—which is all the time, because he’s got one nearly identical, but yours has his name on it and his has yours.

The chorus makes him move around the room, hyping you up at every chance he has. You laugh through the lyrics, out of breath from the previous songs, too.

So cut the headlights, summer's a knife

I'm always waiting for you just to cut to the bone

Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes

And if I bleed, you'll be the last to know

God, he fucking loves you.

The room fades around him while he’s having fun with you, and he wishes he could spend every moment this way. With the excited glow to you, the carefree laughter, the genuine fun.

I'm drunk in the back of the car

And I cried like a baby coming home from the bar (oh)

Said, "I'm fine," but it wasn't true

I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you

And I snuck in through the garden gate

Every night that summer just to seal my fate (oh)

As the lyrics pick up, he joins in for real. This part of the song is his favorite, because the next lyrics are exactly what he wants to say to you but can’t work up the courage to do it.

And I screamed for whatever it's worth

"I love you," ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?

He imagines hearing those words from you, too full of emotion to keep them in any longer. You yell the lyrics between laughter, throwing your head back and dancing as if you’ve been drinking. He watches you so fondly, he’s sure you’ll notice.

The chorus comes back, and you walk up to him like you’re serenading him, making dramatic hand motions while he laughs at you. His whole body buzzes when you’re like this. When everything else fades away and it’s just the two of you.

I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you

And I snuck in through the garden gate

Every night that summer just to seal my fate (oh)

Something changes. He doesn’t notice at first, but your expression changes. The song is about to end, and his heart lurches violently in his chest.

And I screamed for whatever it's worth

"I love you," ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?

He looks at you as the last lyrics pour from your mouth, the wide smile on your face dissipating when you see how close he is to you. Instead of yelling them like you did last time, the words trail off, barely leaving your mouth as a whisper. His chest heaves from the energy expended, yours mirroring his. He feels like he’s on cloud nine, the adrenaline sitting on top of his lungs as his brain malfunctions on what to do next.

Honestly, he doesn’t know who does it. Someone leans forward, and your lips are locked. Passion lingers, desperation tugging at his very soul at the feeling of your arms around him. His heart pounds in his ears, almost blocking out how Cruel Summer’s instrumental repeats in the background.

He clenches his fists in the fabric of your shirt, praying, hoping this isn’t one of his bullshit dreams. Without any idea how it happened, he relishes in the softness of your mouth, the way you accept his tongue so easily, and the soft moan you let out when he tugs on your bottom lip gently.

He pants harder now, forehead against yours as he tries to figure out what the hell he should do. You should stop. All of this is a mistake—he didn’t want his first time with you to be like this, where his want makes his pants tighter in record time. The only logical thought in his brain is that damn sound you just made and how he can drag it from you again and again.

Thunder booms in his veins as he pulls you back to him, the second he was without your kiss much too long. You press yourself to him, digging your nails into his shoulders. It’s almost like he has no control over his actions at the moment, the long-standing need for you clouding his judgment.

The pretty, pretty sound you make when he spins you around and practically slams the small of your back against the edge of his desk has him forgetting everything else exists. It’s only you. You and how fucking badly he wants you.

He doesn’t dare speak a word.

Inhaling sharply, he sweeps his arm across all the miscellaneous junk on top of it, successfully and messily clearing a spot for you to sit. You take the hint, hoisting yourself up on the edge and spreading your legs to give him room.

Heat pulses through the room, sending waves through his body. He wants to peel all of his clothes off, have you naked beneath him, and take you in all the ways he’s dreamed off. The glimpse of your black panties below that damn skirt has him more than ready for you.

You tug him closer, interrupting the way he stares at your core. His cock already strains, begging to be buried inside you. He’s not sure where the hell this side of him came from, but the dark gleam in your eyes has him forgetting there’s anything wrong with it.

Sweat already arises on his skin, the mere thought of having you this way enough to send him into a fucking cardiac arrest. There’s no time to be timid—he reaches beneath your skirt to find the hem of your panties, mouths still clashing beautifully.

Without interrupting the kiss, you nod, lifting your hips up so he can rip the skimpy fabric from your body.

Your hands fly down to his pants, and his heart starts doing backflips. Neither of you has said a word, and he thinks for a moment that he should…just to make sure he’s what you want. But at the same time, he figures you know as much as he does how this is a long time coming.

“Do you—”

“I need you right fucking now,” you murmur, shaky fingers fumbling with the button of his jeans. “Fuck, help me.”

His mouth waters. He wishes he could take his time with you, but having you squirming and asking for him to be inside you makes him crazy. Without wasting another second, he reaches down and pushes his pants down to the middle of his thighs. He gasps when you grab him over his boxers, gripping him like you’ve done this exact thing with him hundreds of times.

God, he can’t fucking take it anymore. Pushing your back down against the desk, he flips your skirt up to expose your slick entrance to him. One of his hands grips your hip and digs his nails into your skin, and the other pushes his boxers down.

He debates with himself for a second on how he should do this. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you, but he’ll really fucking explode if he’s not inside you within the next ten seconds. He plans on being good, on giving you a second to adjust to him, but when he gently starts pushing inside you, your wetness gushes around him.

Your walls stretch to accommodate him, and your back arches on the wood, and your mouth falls open, and suddenly he can’t control himself. If he gives himself a few seconds to enjoy you while he’s buried so deep, he’ll never be able to let you go. He’ll need to be inside all the time, and that doesn’t sound much like best friends.

Your moans spill recklessly past your lips, the jolt of his thrusts distorting the sound. Fuck, he loves you, but he never imagined sex could feel this good. You flutter around him, urging his cock to move faster, and he does his best to oblige. The desk slams into the wall over and over again, the sound almost as erotic as the sight before him.

You try and fail to find something to hold onto, and when he sees your friendship bracelet—the one with his fucking name on it—he loses it. He puts his hand beneath your neck, pulling you up so you’re face to face. Your face is blissed out, eyes barely staying open as he gives you everything he’s got.

His skin is sticky with sweat, the clothes uncomfortably clinging to his back, he reaches between the two of you, growing frustrated that he left your skirt on. He throbs inside you, desperate to reach his end, so gives the fabric a firm tug, and you gape when it rips at the seam. He half-expects you to scold him for ruining a perfectly good outfit, but instead, your hips buck toward his.

A tingling sensation forms at the base of his length, and he knows it’s only a matter of seconds before he reaches completion. Without wasting another second, his hand dives between your legs, your arousal making his thumb glide effortlessly across your clit.

Your body shakes, and you lean forward to bury your head in his neck, biting down on his shoulder to contain yourself. He can’t hold back his moans, moving just a bit faster and adjusting his angle to increase your pleasure.

“Fuck, Ch—”

He tangles his fingers in your hair and tugs you back to watch your face.

“Fu—Close,” you whine, lifting your hips to match his thrusts. “I’m cu—”

You cut yourself off with a scream of pleasure, and he swears your walls clamp down on him so tightly, his cock will get stuck. His thrusts falter at the overwhelming feeling of your euphoria, and as soon as it hits you, he’s spurting inside you.

He kisses up the side of your neck, barely breathing properly as he regains his composure. His orgasm wracks his body, pulsing throughout his veins and his bones.

You grasp onto him for dear life, and he returns your embrace. His chest is against yours, both hearts pounding.

And then reality sets in. The music returns to his ears, the beat to Cruel Summer still on a loop, and he wonders how closely you relate to the lyrics.

“Um,” you say breathlessly. “Wow.”

“That…”

“Happened.” You nod, a dazed look on your face as you blink past the shock.

He gulps, wishing that best friend telepathy was real at a time like this. How does he respond to that? Did you enjoy it? Are you already regretting it?

“Chenle,” you murmur.

“Yeah?”

“You’re still…inside me.”

His face burns, and he quickly pulls out of you, trying not to look at the mess he knows is between your legs. He turns away from you to settle himself back in his pants, and he finds your panties on the ground where he threw them.

He gives them to you, and you awkwardly shuffle off the desk before sliding the fabric back up your legs. But he doesn’t want you to…walk away. He wants to take you back to his bed and cuddle you to sleep. To take care of you like he should after such an intimate moment.

Surely, he can’t kiss you, can he?

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Seriously?” You frown at him. “That’s what you want to ask me right now?”

“I don’t really know how to—”

The front door opens, just down the hall as your drunk group of friends arrives back. Your face drops, and you curse under your breath.

“Damn it.” You frantically look around for something to cover your lower half before you go.

Guilt tears at Chenle’s chest—not just because of the ripped skirt, but because it seems like you’re not very happy with your decision. The last thing he ever wanted was to push you into anything. He grabs a blanket from the couch on the other side of the room and hands it to you.

“Chenle! (Y/N)!” Jaemin’s hammered voice booms across the house.

“(Y/N), can we just—”

“Not now, Chenle.” You shake your head, wrapping yourself up in the blanket and grabbing the split fabric to hide it.

You loop your fingers in his belt loops to tug him close to you, and his jaw drops as he stumbles over. Instead of doing any of the things he wanted you to, you tuck his shirt into his jeans. He’s about to ask you what you’re doing, but then he feels how soaked it is.

Again, his face is on fire. How the hell is he supposed to do this?

He runs his fingers through your hair to fix the tangles, heart racing. As soon as he takes a step away from you, the door opens. Jaemin pours in without any concern.

“Well,” you say, chuckling. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“(Y/N), wait—” Chenle reaches out to you but decides at the last minute to stop, knowing how much is riding on that damn blanket staying put.

“Goodnight, Chenle.” You glance at him, eyes wide and swirling with something he can’t quite put his finger on.

“It smells weird in here,” Jaemin grumbles as he waddles around the room. “Why?”

“Dunno,” Chenle replies with a grimace. “It’s because you’re drunk. Off to bed with all of us.”

Yep…except he’ll be alone, when all he wants is to be curled up with you.

Day 3 | June 3rd

When Chenle wakes up in the morning, he’s pretty sure everything was a dream. He messes with the bracelet latched on his wrist, gulping at the memory of you. How is he supposed to act normally now?

He has to talk to you. Figure out what the hell you’re thinking, because if you regret it, it might break his heart, but he’ll know how you feel about him. You’ve told each other stories of previous relationships, hook-ups, whatever just came out randomly. He never imagined he’d be one of those hook-ups.

And now his bed is all too empty without you, and it’s only day three.

Images of the night before flash through his mind, and he analyzes everything he sees to try and figure out what he did wrong. If he did something wrong. You almost always sleep next to him, so if this persists, the others will begin to notice, too.

He gets out of bed, hands shoved into the pockets of his pajama pants as he makes his way to the kitchen. Everyone else is awake, the guys and Heewon sitting on the couch. You and Chaeyoung were nowhere to be found, but he tried his best to make it nonchalant. He didn’t want everyone to know he messed up with you. That explanation would be hard.

He glances in the kitchen and still doesn’t see you or your closest friend (besides him, obviously), so he sighs and sits on the far end of the couch. The awkwardness creeps in, like the whole group secretly knows what you two did. Like they’re silently judging him for single-handedly ruining your friendship.

“Who shit in your cheerios?” Hyuck asks, shifting forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“Huh?” Chenle frowns. “Nothing happened. I’m just tired.”

“Oh, (Y/N) said you weren’t feeling well last night. She and Chaeyoung went to town to grab some medicine or something.” Mark stretches before getting up to go into the kitchen. “She seemed worried, are you okay?”

Chenle gulps, and he hopes it’s not noticeable. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

Thankfully, they continue their conversation. He can relax for a bit, and then when you come back, he’ll pull you aside. After all, he won’t let this fester. He needs to talk to you—to find out if you view him any differently since he crossed that line with you. The last thing he wants is for anything to change. He likes your friendship the way it is, but he’s also been so desperately in love with you for so long that hope clings to him like a leech.

The door opens, and his head jolts toward it when he hears your laugh. His hands clench into fists, and he’s halfway certain he looks like a lost puppy right now.

The second you see him, he watches your expression change. Your giggle stops halfway through, and you clear your throat as you give him the same wide-eyed look you gave him last night. He wants to jump up and tell you things don’t have to change, maybe even beg you for your forgiveness and say he’ll do anything to keep you in his life—

You and Chaeyoung disappear into the kitchen, and Mark comes back in shortly after. Chenle’s getting antsy, his anxiety sparking at the bottom of his spine as his foot taps on the floor. If he jolts up and runs after you, everyone will know something is wrong.

And if they all know, it’s only a matter of time before Jaemin opens his big mouth, and then you’ll be forever embarrassed by the idea of sleeping with Chenle, and summer vacations will never be the same.

So he gives you five minutes.

“...need to figure things out.” Chaeyoung’s voice is hushed, standing next to you on the far end of the kitchen.

“Yeah, tell me about it. But I—” You stop the moment you catch Chenle in the room.

“I think Jeno needs me for something,” Chaeyoung mentions, sending a small smile his way before darting out of the room. He sighs. If you told Chaeyoung, you’re probably more freaked out than he thought.

You look down at your feet as he approaches you.

“We need to talk about this,” he mutters. “I don’t like feeling like I fucked up.”

Your gaze darts up to his, your eyebrows furrowed as you scan over his face. “This isn’t really the best place to talk, Le. Any of them could walk in right now.’

“I’m not just—I’m not going to forget about it. It happened, okay? And it’s okay if you’re upset by it and you never want to be near me again, but I…I need to know. The silence is killing me.” He realizes it hasn’t been that long, but sleeping alone really got to him.

“Why would you think I’m upset?” you ask.

“You practically ran away from me last night. And you usually sleep with me, and you didn’t. You didn’t even tell me you were going anywhere this morning.”

“I figured you’d know where I was going.” You cross your arms over your chest, glancing away from him.

“How could I possibly have known?” he inquires.

“Chenle…” You let out a small laugh. “You…you came inside me last night. Chaeyoung took me to buy Plan B.”

His jaw drops as he flounders for words. Cheeks burning, he drops his head into his hands and sighs. “I’m a fucking idiot. I didn’t even realize, I was so—I’m so sorry, I don’t even know why I would ever—”

“Relax.” You put your hands on his shoulders. “I was the one who kissed you. You’re psyching yourself out, because I don’t regret it or anything like that. Actually, I’d…kinda like to do it again.”

Alarm bells ring in his head, and his eyeballs feel like they’re about to pop out of his skull when he looks at you fast enough to give himself whiplash.

“You want to…” he trails off, lowering his voice. “...have sex with me again?”

“I mean, only if you want to.” You chew the inside of your cheek, fidgeting with your fingers. Quickly, you continue, “Obviously, nothing has to change. Like, I’m not asking you for…a relationship or anything. There won’t be any rules. Except the fact that you have to…you know, use a condom, but we could just…have a good summer.”

His heart sinks. What you’re proposing is not what he wants. It further proves to him you don’t reciprocate the feelings that led him to his recklessness last night. He shouldn’t agree. No, he should say he’d prefer to keep anything…sexual…out of your friendship, but God damn it, he was tired of leaving his love on the side. Maybe he can’t tell you out loud, but if you’re okay with sleeping with him, he’ll show you.

“Chenle?” you whisper. “I’m sorry if that’s too much. You can forget I said anything.”

You scramble to gather yourself before you try to turn away from him. He reaches out and grabs your wrist, tugging you back to him.

“I wasn’t expecting that.” He pauses, sighing. “Are you sure, (Y/N)? This could get messy.”

“I know I said no rules, but I’m a little bit of a control freak—”

“You act like this is the first time I’ve met you.” Chenle chuckles.

You glare at him before continuing. “Anyway. Nobody can know. I told Chae, but she had to drive me so she doesn’t count. Plus, she won’t tell the others. So, we act normal around our friends, okay? And we don’t…talk about it. Things happen as they will, and we wait until at least the end of June to figure things out.”

“It sounds like you’ve put a lot of thought into this,” he admits, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“We don’t have to change. But I did like yesterday, and it’s been so long since someone’s made me—” you cut yourself off, pressing your lips into a line. “You know what I mean.”

“I…Yeah, I do know you’ve been with trash guys—”

You gently smack his chest, glaring at him. “That was not permission for a dig.”

He holds his hands up in mock surrender, his heart melting in his chest when he sees the smile spread on your face. Maybe you don’t have feelings for him, but you don’t hate him—that’ll be enough to get him through this. At least for a while.

“So, we’re good?” You look up at him.

He’s no match for you. Not in any case or situation. His heart belongs to you, and it tears him apart piece by piece to know yours isn’t his.

“Of course, we’re good.” He nods, pulling you in for a hug and sighing in relief. “We can do whatever you want to do.”

“Oh, but that sounds like you don’t want to.” You cringe, but he laughs.

“This is kind of new territory, you know. If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have done it the first time.” God, but he wants so much more. He wants all of you, not just momentary flings.

You pull back from him, your gaze gleaming. “And how long have you wanted to do that?”

“I’ll have to get drunk before I tell you the answer to that.” He snorts. “Let’s go back out there before they realize how long we’ve been in here.”

The rest of the day was uneventful to say the least. Chenle was happy to have you back at least in your normal friendship way, so he just enjoyed the way you put your legs over his lap and rested your head on his shoulder.

He didn’t feel awkward around the group like he expected to be, but it wasn’t until later in the night when it really set in. With the two of you in his bedroom, the door closed (and locked).

Watching you closely, he’s dying to reach out and touch you. He’s not sure if it’s normal urges he always felt or if they’re new, from the way he had you just yesterday. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he fidgets with his hands.

“You don’t have to be awkward,” you mention to him as you pull your shirt over your head.

He’s not a stranger to seeing your body. You’ve never been uncomfortable changing with him in the room, and he does the same with you. He almost laughs to himself at the thought of seeing you more naked beforehand than while you had sex. His mind races, and when you reach behind your back for the clasp of your bra, his face heats up and he averts his gaze.

It doesn’t matter what he agreed to—it doesn’t feel right to look at you in a state like this without your permission.

Once you’ve pulled one of his T-shirts over your head, you walk over to him, nestling yourself between his legs. He gulps as he looks up at you. Your finger traces along his jaw, eyes scanning over his face.

“Normal, right?” he whispers, gripping the back of your thighs.

“Totally normal.” You nod.

“But I still can…kiss you? If I feel like it?” His voice almost fails him, his heart lodged in his throat.

“When we’re alone, you can do whatever you want.”

Your words make his heart stop in his chest, and he realizes the implications of this. If he’s fallen completely for you without kissing, sex, and the intimacy of those physical aspects, what will it be like when he gets you whenever he wants?

“I want it, too.” You cup his cheeks and tilt his head up.

“And if it’s just kissing?” he asks. “What if that’s all I want right now?”

“Whatever you want,” you reassure him. “I’m not expecting you to want sex every night, you psycho.”

“C’mere.” He pulls you closer, one of his hands grasping the nape of your neck. The initial brush of your lips against his has his breath shuddering. He’s not prepared for any of this. It hasn’t really sunk in yet, but the way your mouth tastes has every sense in his body heightened.

He curses under his breath when you climb on top of him and straddle his lap. It still feels like he’s taking advantage of you like this—you don’t know his true feelings, so how could he do this to you?

“Chenle.” You sigh and halt your movements. “If this is too weird for you, we don’t have to—”

He shakes his head, hands immediately flying to your ass and pushing you closer to him. His length is beginning to harden, and he moves you to make sure you feel it through his shorts.

“I…want you.” He squeezes, making your hips roll.

“Then what’s going on?” you ask.

“I just need to get used to it,” he replies. “To acknowledge how much I…It just feels kinda like I’m dreaming.”

“Why?”

“You…” His cheeks are so hot, he thinks they’ll burn off. “I never thought you’d want me like this.”

You chuckle, and much to his dismay, climb off his lap and get into bed. “Little do you know, I was thinking the same thing.”

He yearns to reach out to you, to pull you back to him, but instead, he lets out a sigh and takes his spot next to you. The last thing he needs to do is push you. He’d walk on eggshells if he had to, if only it meant he could keep whatever fragile intimacy occurring between you.

He wraps his arm around your waist, taking a deep breath as you turn toward him and bury your head in his chest.

And after you fall asleep, he’s still up through the night, trying to figure out if there’s any chance of this ending in his favor.

Day 5 | June 5th

He wants you.

Everything inside him burns at the thought of your agreement, and he needs to pull you away from your friends and have his way with you. He tells himself over and over again that patience is key, but he can’t stand it.

The last few days were uneventful—well, as uneventful as they could be when it came to his newfound physicality with you. He thinks of kissing you in front of everyone, showing all of them where his head has been since the second night at this damn place.

How is he so needy after three days?

In closed quarters, you kiss him, hug him, grind on him, he’s sure his head is going to explode any moment. The night at the bonfire is coming to a close, but not fast enough.

“(Y/N)!” Mark calls out from the water’s edge. “How much money for you to jump in?”

You let out a loud ha! and shuffle away from Chenle. The air is warm, so he knows you’ll be okay, but he’s also concerned by how much he’s interested in seeing your body soaked with—

Hyuck’s hand smacks Chenle’s chest, causing him to cough and shoot a glare at the other man. “What the hell?”

“Why are you staring like that?” Hyuck asks. “Nervous Mark’s gonna steal your girl?”

“She’s not my girl.” He has to force the words out. After all, he doesn’t really believe them….or want to. “I’m just tired.”

Donghyuck lets out a childish chuckle, putting his beer bottle to his lips and chugging the rest of it. Chenle sips his own drink, returning his grumpy stare to you. You’re laughing uncontrollably as you climb out of the water, soaked from head to toe. Your head falls back as you hit Mark’s arm, barely able to contain yourself from whatever Donghyuck made him miss.

You’re barely lit by the firelight, but Chenle’s never seen someone so beautiful. Fooling your friends won’t be hard—he knows damn well he’s always acted the same way around you that he does now, and he certainly has been this clingy since day one. You give him one of your award-winning grins, and before he can object, you flop yourself down on his lap, cackling evilly as the water soaks through his clothes, too.

“(Y/N), what the hell—” Chenle attempts to push you off, but you push yourself into him further.

“I’m soaked.” You don’t stop giggling, but Chenle hates the way he reacts to those words.

His face flames, and before you understand what happened, he pushes you from his lap so you’re sitting next to him on the chair. You look at him inquisitively, and he ignores you with another quick drink.

Music plays from the speakers. You get up to switch the song since your phone is the one set up. It’s only at that moment he realizes you know exactly what you’re doing. Cruel Summer plays, and every inch of his body catches on fire.

His throat dries, and you look at him over your shoulder.

Despite every muscle in his body craving for him to approach you and pull you back into the house, he gets up to grab another bottle instead. The night is going to drag, and he’s almost guilty for how he’s thinking. He’s supposed to be here and enjoying the summer with his friends, and all he wants is to be alone with you.

Pushing you to the back of his mind, he tries to engage more in conversations with the group. He gets into a somewhat heated discussion with Jaemin about global warming, and when you take your spot next to him, he naturally puts his arm around you as you lean into him.

“Can we go to bed?” you ask him, lips brushing his ear. “I’m tired.”

“We should wait,” he replies, taking in the rest of the group. “Just a bit longer, okay?”

You whine quietly but nod, putting your head on Chenle’s shoulder. He’s itching to drag you to his bedroom, but he wants things to be as normal as possible. The two of you rarely cut the party short, and on top of that, he’d prefer to know where everyone else was before he started touching you.

It’s only another ten minutes before Heewon decides she’s done for the night. Chenle nearly sighs in relief.

Everyone agrees to head in, and you all casually separate with a quick goodnight. As soon as Chenle’s door closes behind him, he sighs and runs his fingers through his hair.

“You okay?” you ask him, turning him to face you. “You’ve been off all day.”

He shakes his head, chewing on his bottom lip as he examines you. “You…you said you wanted this, and I’m kind of confused. If you act the same, how do I know when you…you know.”

Your eyes gleam as you smile at him. The sight alone has his heart doing somersaults, and he suddenly wishes he could take the question back. He’s tired of wondering—he needs to figure out what all of this means.

“You’re so cute, Lele,” you tease him. “How are you supposed to know when I want you? Always. I’ve been waiting for you to initiate because you seemed a little uncomfortable, so I didn’t want to push you.”

“So, all I need to do is tell you when I’m…” He cringes at himself. “This is weird.”

You move closer to him and sling your arms over his shoulders. “Exactly. All you have to say is that you want me, and I’m yours.” Your voice is so soft and sweet, it caresses his ears and flows into his brain, and his senses become overrun by you.

“I do. Right now.” Is all he says before he swallows his nerves and connects his mouth with yours. You gasp against him, startled at the sudden movement, but within seconds, return his gesture.

His hands move to the small of your back and press you as close as possible, his lips working messily against yours. He wastes no more time; walking you backward, he lets you fall back onto the mattress.

Settling himself between your legs, he takes a second to look at you—to study your face and the look in your eyes that’s never really changed. He wonders how long you’ve wanted him for. Your thighs part to welcome him perfectly, sighing when he rolls his hips tentatively.

“This,” he whispers, lips grazing your neck. “This is how it should’ve been the first time.”

His nerves seep away when your body shudders beneath his. Your hair is still slightly damp, clinging to your skin and enticing him further. He grinds his hardening length over your core and kisses you gently.

“You have to be quiet,” he continues. “Jaemin and Jeno are right down the hall.”

You nod, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him back to you. “I know. I’ll be good, Lele.”

He gapes for a moment, not used to words having such an effect on him. Gulping, he reaches up and runs his thumb along your bottom lip.

“That’s right,” he confirms. “Be a good girl for me and you won’t regret it.”

Your gaze gets a shade darker, and the thought of what awaits him beneath your clothes overwhelms him completely. You grab at his shirt, attempting to pull it off his body. He moves back to remove it, and then you’re arching your back to allow him to do the same to you. Sitting on his knees, he moves his hands up your body until they’re squeezing your breasts through your black lace bra.

“Can I—”

“You don’t have to ask, Chenle.” You cup his cheeks, lifting his head so he sees you. “I trust you.”

He’s uncomfortably hard at this point as he takes your shorts off you. Your panties match your bra, and he swears he’s never been closer to finishing in his pants. Nobody has ever made him weak like you do. They’ve never appealed to him in the same way, a way of adoration and love and all the beautiful things life has to offer.

You sit up to unclasp the material supporting your chest, tossing it across the room. Everything inside Chenle melts. You, in this vulnerable state, staring at him impatiently as he pushes you back against the mattress.

He dips down, taking your nipple in his mouth. A quiet sigh of pleasure escapes your lips, and his hips buck against yours. He grinds against you as if he’s already thrusting in and out, and he groans at the thought of your wetness all over him.

His nails drag up and down your thigh, and as he pulls away from your breast to move to the other, a strand of saliva follows. The sight is far more erotic than he imagined, and he grips your thigh harshly.

“Kiss me,” you ask him. “Please.”

And someone like him could never deny someone like you—he lunges upward to capture your mouth, his tongue battling with yours as he moves his hand to the hem of your panties. He pulls away for a second, glancing at you once for confirmation.

You nod, almost frantically, and he decides it’s okay to let go for tonight. You want him as badly as he wants you, so why should he hold back? He curses under his breath the second he feels your arousal on his fingertips.

At first, he teases you, running his finger up your entrance until he’s brushing your clit. He smirks at the way you squirm beneath him, desperate for his touch. He’s the one you want.

“Ask me nicely,” he hums against your neck. “Be good and tell me you need me.”

“God, Chenle,” you whine, rocking your hips. “Please touch me. I need you so bad.”

His own eyes nearly roll into the back of his head when he pushes two fingers inside of you. You grip him so tightly, he wonders how you took him so well just a few nights before. He’d been an asshole and got right to it instead of working you up.

Your breaths turn into whimpers, and your walls quiver around him. He’s already lost in you, in the way you feel on his fingers and the scrunch of your face as you try to hold back the noises you’re desperate to make. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to fall for you more than he already has, but tonight, he learns that falling in love is not linear, and it doesn’t stop.

Tonight, he finds out that it’s a free fall into the deepest ocean, and the only option is to sink further in the water and let the waves take him.

He swallows your quiet moan, positioning his thumb on your clit as he continues his descent into madness. Your walls begin to tighten, so he instinctively kisses you, using his hand to help you ride out the high that’s sending shivers down your body. You squirm beneath him, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip.

“Where are the condoms?” he asks you.

Still dazed, you blink a couple times. “Uh, I…they’re in the nightstand I think.”

He kisses your cheek, irritated at the coldness when he moves away from you. Sighing in relief once he finds the box, he opens it and tears one away from the rest. He tries to swallow his nerves, but when he sees you resting on your elbows, waiting for him, he halts.

This is you.

The one he’s always been able to be himself around, and what if he’s ruining it by thinking with his dick?

“I know that look.” You lift yourself off the bed and approach him, grabbing the wrapper from him. “We don’t have to do this, you know.”

“I want to,” he says, wetting his lips. “I want you, but I don’t want to lose you.”

You frown, shaking your head and pulling him closer. “It doesn’t matter how this goes, Le. You’ll never lose me. I promise.”

I love you almost slips, but he holds it back. But God, he’s sure he’s never loved you more.

You reach down to push his shorts and boxers down before guiding him back. He sits on the edge of the bed, gripping your hips and refraining from yanking you onto his lap and sliding his cock in.

When you open the condom wrapper, his heart is about to jump out of his chest. And then you’re putting it on him, pushing your panties to the floor, climbing onto his lap to straddle him, and rubbing his tip against your entrance.

It’s like time stops as you sink down on his length. Moonlight flits in through the windows, illuminating your body and your skin and the subtle eye roll. He can’t breathe. Every time he tries, his lungs fail him, as if you’re drowning him with everything you have.

He wraps his arms around you, your chest pressing to his as he slowly, slowly guides you down on him. You both sigh together, trying not to alert your friends down the hall.

“You’re amazing,” he mutters, dazed. “Feels so fucking good.”

You drop your head onto his shoulder, your uneven breaths fanning across his skin. He rocks his hips, but your tightness almost makes it hard for him to move. This time, he doesn’t want to rush. He wants to enjoy all you have to offer and take his time with you—make love to you, really.

“Hold on, baby,” he whispers, wrapping you in his arms. “Gonna turn us over.”

He does just that, the clench of your walls on his cock enough to make him delirious. After you shift to get comfortable, he intertwines his fingers with yours and pushes your hand deep into the mattress next to your head.

With his chest brushing yours, he moves, taking his time in pulling out only to push back in. Your head falls back against the mattress, your eyes closing. You squeeze his hand as hard as you can, doing your best to lift your hips to match his thrusts.

The room is full of moonlight, soft pleasure, and the sound of him pushing into your dripping entrance.

He whispers praises in your ear, telling you how good you make him feel and how you take him so well. The slickness of sweat makes your bodies stick together, and the room gets hotter and hotter the longer he’s seated deeply inside you.

The first time he had you, he barely had time to process what happened. This time, he’s basking in the moment, giving you gentle kisses over your face as he keeps a steady pace. He wants to stay here like this forever, but he knows better than to let that thought run rampant in his head.

He releases your hand—which ends up in his hair—as he reaches between the two of you and presses his fingers to your clit. You whine a little louder than you should, so Chenle silences you with his mouth. The position is a bit awkward for him, but the buck of your hips makes sure that’s the last thing on his mind.

Your body shudders beneath him, moans spilling into his mouth for him to swallow and keep for his own. He thrusts a little faster, eager to bring you to your edge and experience your pleasure for himself.

You whisper his name like a mantra, euphoria quickly claiming you as you drag your nails down his back. In the midst of that feeling and your walls clamping around him, he bursts into the condom, cursing under his breath.

Despite his dry throat, he manages to kiss along your neck while attempting to regain his breath.

“That,” he tells you. “Is how it should’ve been.”

“Feel free to do it like that all the time.” Your tired giggle fills his ears.

He squeezes your thigh gently as he pulls out of you, ready to groan at the loss. You lay there with a smile on your face as he disposes of the condom in the adjoining bathroom. When he returns to you, he’s surprised to find you under the blankets on your side.

When he raises an eyebrow at you, you shrug. “You can get dressed if you want. I’m too tired.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he climbs into bed next to you and pulls you close to him. Your skin is damp with sweat, but he’s sure his is worse. He kisses the top of your head, and just like so many nights before, he hums songs for you until you fall asleep.

Day 6 | June 6th

In the night, you curled further into him. His eyes are closed, but he’s been up for a while. Fingers trailing up and down your spine, he thinks he’s reached his peak. The summer sun amplified through the window warms his skin, but more importantly, it illuminates you and the softness of your features as you sleep.

The brightness blinds him, but he doesn’t mind. Not when his focal point is you.

He made love to you last night. All of his feelings were delivered to you on a silver platter and, just for a brief moment, he thinks he saw it back from you. Like there’s a part of you—however small—that wanted him the same way.

The sound of a door opening and closing down the hall wakes you, and you wrap your arm around him tighter.

“This is nice,” you murmur, kissing the base of his neck.

“I think so, too.”

“Do we have to get up?” You shake your head as if answering your own question.

He chuckles. “It might look weird if we don’t.”

“I need to shower.” You shift onto your back and run your hands down your face.

He uses the opportunity to move over you and kiss down your neck, finding your pulse quicker than it should be after just waking up. Nipping your skin to stop his smirk, he inhales your scent.

“You could always come with,” you offer, running your fingers through his hair.

“Now, that’ll be obvious.” He chuckles and pulls away from you, removing himself from the blanket as he stretches. When he looks back at you, you’ve already grabbed his T-shirt from the ground and are in the process of putting it on. He gets a brief glimpse of you. Slamming his eyes shut, he assumes nothing good will come of seeing your naked image in his mind over and over again.

The bed dips behind him as you climb over, draping your arms over his neck and kissing his cheek. “You should do it anyway.”

He snorts and pushes you away jokingly. With your signature grin plastered on your face, you make your way into the bathroom and shut the door behind you. Once he hears the water starting, he drags himself over to his bag to get dressed. He decides on a pair of sweatpants and a black T-shirt, and on his way out of the room, Jeno is also heading for the kitchen.

Chenle avoids his eyes as much as possible, wondering if any of his escapade with you last night was audible for him or Jaemin. Chasing the thought out of his head, he goes straight for the water bottles in the fridge.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” Mark asks, eating the watermelon Chaeyoung cut up a couple days back.

“She’s in the shower,” Chenle replies nonchalantly, unscrewing the cap and taking a drink.

“You didn’t want to join her?” Heewon laughs from the side as she butters her toast.

He narrows his eyes in her direction. “And why would I do that?”

“Well, you guys do everything else together,” she replies.

That earns her a cackle from Hyuck, but Chenle shakes his head.

“We don’t do everything else together.”

“Right, you guys are just dating without the benefits of getting off.” Mark pretends to be lost in thought.

Chenle’s heart twists violently in his chest, nearly lurching him forward. He wants everything from you—anything you want to give him, he’d take without hesitation. Heewon scolds Mark quietly and smacks his arm, because apparently that was what was too far.

He half expects Jeno to pipe up and expose exactly how opposite your relationship with Chenle is now, but he stays silent. Hopefully, that means Jaemin and Jeno heard nothing from last night. Your sounds were for Chenle and Chenle only, and a part of him felt glory in that.

The teasing from the friend group never bothered him before, but with this new side of your relationship, he let the words sink in deep.

How exactly was he going to make it out of this unscathed?

Day 8 | June 8th

Both of you knew it was risky, but something about you had him bent way out of shape. The group was doing their yearly ice cream run in less than an hour, and all he cared about at the moment was being inside you.

He put you on the bathroom counter, your body next to falling off it if he wasn’t holding onto you so tightly. Without much warning, he enters you completely with one thrust. His hand covers your mouth, capturing the moan spilling past your lips. Your eyes roll back, and he swears that sight alone is almost enough to get him off.

You murmur his name against his palm, head lolling back.

“Sorry, Sunshine.” He nips your earlobe as he rocks his hips gently to help you adjust to his size. “We’ve gotta be fast.”

“‘M good,” you say, gripping tightly onto his shoulders.

He takes the hint, beginning his movements a bit quicker than he normally would. Even though he hasn’t had a drop of alcohol in days, the world sways around him as if he’s drunk. You’re what’s intoxicating him, and in the moments where you’re connected, he feels like he’s on cloud nine.

One hand rests on the small of your back, and the other stays on your mouth, desperate to finish but needing you to stay quiet. Whenever he thinks of being with you in this way, he tries to fuck you in the ways you deserve—make you feel so good you’re dreaming about it long after you’re done—but both of you are far too desperate right now to consider anything like that.

Your nails leave angry red crescents in his skin, but it only spurs him faster. His hips rutt against yours, his body craving the complete euphoria he’s only ever been able to accomplish with you.

His gaze meets yours, and he finds your eyebrows furrowed. Since he’s got such a firm grip on you, you move one of your hands and slide it down your body, watching him closely as if he’s going to stop you.

As soon as your fingers find your clit, you groan and your walls flutter around his cock. He curses, and his next sharp thrust has you whining.

“I’m so…” you trail off, body nearly falling limp in his grasp.

But just before you reach your high, the bedroom door opens, and there’s approximately two seconds before whoever walks in sees inside the bathroom. The next curse that falls from his lips is for two reasons—one, because all he needed was another minute, and he would’ve reached his high. Two, because he now has to figure out a way to make this look like anything except what it is.

He pulls out of you, readjusting your panties and guiding you off the counter before he tucks his painfully hard cock back into his sweats, condom and all.

“(Y/N)’s sick,” he calls out. “Give us a few minutes and we’ll come out okay? She’ll kill me if I let you see her like this.” He moves over to the door and closes it, locking it before whoever it is can see the mess you’ve turned him into.

“Oh, be fucking for real,” Chaeyoung’s voice says. “(Y/N), are you really sick? Or are you two—”

You breathe a sigh of relief when you hear her. Instead of letting Chenle answer, you pull your shirt down to cover yourself before cracking the door open.

“I’m okay. We’ll be out in like, two seconds.”

“You horny bitch.” Chaeyoung purses her lips. “Can’t stay off his dick for five minutes.”

Chenle feels his insides churning at that comment. For a moment, he’s sure she’s being serious, but then both of you burst into laughter, and Chenle’s blood cools.

“We would’ve been out already if you hadn’t interrupted us.” You pinch your fingers together. “I was this close.”

“Are you at least using condoms?” she asks in a hushed voice, turning the tips of Chenle’s ears bright pink.

“Yes, mom, now if you could go, I need to put some actual clothes on.” You shoo her away.

“The guys want ice cream. No dick until later,” she tells you, laughing as she walks out of the room.

You let out a sigh and close the door again, biting down on your bottom lip as you look at Chenle.

“Sorry, we don’t really have TMIs, so she…” You clear your throat.

“No, that’s…that’s good that you have someone to talk to about all of this that’s not me,” he says, walking up to you to put his hands on your hips and tug you close. “You think she’ll be mad if I just…”

He turns you so your back is to his chest, lips latching onto your neck as his touch trails down to the hem of your panties.

“I’d hate to leave you hanging when you were this close.” He tongues along your pulse, skimming below the hem of your panties.

“You’d better make it quick, Lele.” You lean your head back on his shoulder. “She’ll kill us.”

He grins smugly at the invitation, allowing his fingertips to graze lower until he finds your clit. You’re still soaked from being robbed of your high, so your body jerks at the sensation. He grinds against your ass, proving to you how badly he wants to be inside you.

“T-this is going to be embarrassingly fast.” You pant, rocking your hips back and forth. “I need more.” Your hands grip the edge of the countertop, pained whines escaping you.

He moves faster on your clit, and before he’s able to comprehend what’s happening, you squirm and bite down on your hand to stop your noises.

“Look at yourself, baby,” he whispers, his other hand sliding up to your throat to guide your face toward the mirror. “Look at how fucking good you look when I’m touching you.”

You inhale sharply, moving your own hand up to his to press his fingers in around your neck. He rubs you faster, taking his own initiative in squeezing you to control your breathing. Looking up at your reflection, he almost starts drooling at the sight of what he’s doing to you.

Your whines turn into breathless wheezes, and seconds later, you part your lips to let out a silent scream of pleasure as your insides clench around nothing.

He slows his circles to help you come down from your high, showering your shoulder and neck with kisses.

“Alright,” he whispers, retracting his touch from you. “We’d better get going.”

“But you didn’t—”

“You’ll make it up to me later.” He kisses you one last time. “You look so fucking sexy when I’m touching you.”

“Keep talking like that and we’ll never make it out of this bathroom,” you warn him.

You’re doing it on purpose.

Every year, the group goes to the same place for ice cream. Chenle’s been coming here ever since he was a young boy, but it’s been at least 5 years since he started bringing the rest of your friends, too. They have new experimental flavors, and it’s his mission to try all of them.

So, of course, he chooses one, and you choose a different one. The two of you are meant to be acting normally, but the way your lips close around his spoon has his mind spiraling. Not to mention how you make eye contact with him, and that damn gleam in your gaze is enough to make his cock jump in his pants.

How did he ever live without being inside you before?

“Hey, guys.” Chaeyoung tosses her arms over the two of you, grinning widely before lowering her voice. “If you don’t want people to know, you’re doing an awful job. You’re looking at each other like you ingested the worst Harry Potter love potion imaginable.”

The word love throws him off track, and he quickly takes his spoon away from you and side steps to run his fingers through his hair. He has no idea what’s gotten into him. Usually, he’s pretty good about this kind of stuff. And to be honest, before he started messing around with you, he wasn’t nearly as horny as he is now.

No, because now, he feels like he needs to be touching you constantly, and if he’s not, he’s wasting valuable time.

He tries his best to shove those thoughts to the back of his mind. At some point, you’ll have to go back to being just his best friend. It pains him that this can’t be forever, but at the end of the day, he has you. Whether or not it’s completely is a different story.

Everyone takes their usual table outside, and you sit between him and Chaeyoung. The guys converse, the girls laugh over something, but Chenle isn’t joining either conversation. Worry sinks deep in his gut instead. He wonders if it’s okay for him to be as nonchalant about the two of you having sex as he is.

You’re his best friend. Regardless of his feelings toward you, he should’ve done the mature, right thing and declined this offer.

But he’s in too deep now, and all it takes is one wide smile from you to tilt the earth on its axis.

For the next couple hours at this ice cream parlor, things are back to normal. He suppresses his urges the way he always has. His mind lingers on you, especially when your voice and your laugh echoes in his ears, and this time…

This time, he knows what he has to do.

Day 15 | June 15th

“Okay, this is getting ridiculous.” You close his bedroom door behind you and cross your arms over your chest. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

“What are you talking about?” he asks, frowning.

“Don’t play stupid.” Your foot taps anxiously on the ground. “One week, we’re all over each other, and now you’ve barely even touched me since Chaeyoung almost walked in on us. Is that what’s going on? You’re weirded out that she knows things about us?”

“Us.” He scoffs, tugging his fingers through his hair. “What us, (Y/N)?”

You visibly recoil, hurt playing out on your face as Chenle instantly regrets his words. Even then, he’s not going to back down from this.

“You’re starting to piss me off.”

“I…I don’t want sex.” He shrugs.

You wet your lips and narrow your eyes, trying to comprehend what he means by that. “That’s just—like, that’s okay. I don’t want you to feel like you have to have sex with me, Le, but if our friendship is going to survive this, I need you to be honest and open with me.”

“The sex isn’t the problem.”

“Oh.” Your voice waivers, and he immediately wishes he never opened his mouth. A short laugh of disbelief escapes you.

“It’s not you, either,” he quickly adds, grabbing onto your hand. “It’s really not. I…I still need my best friend, though. And it feels like I’m losing that side of you because things are changing. You said nothing would change.”

“I haven’t changed,” you tell him. “Everything I do is exactly what I’ve done last year or the year before that. I’ve been teasing you a little, yeah, but I thought you liked it. Am I an idiot?”

Chenle’s chest deflates. “No. No, you’re not an idiot. I’m an asshole.” He pulls you to his chest and cradles the back of your head. “I’m sorry. I’ve been acting like a little kid. All I want is my best friend, and I’m scared that after all of this is over, I’m gonna lose you. I don’t know how to live without you. You know that.”

“You’d only have to worry about ruining our friendship if the dick was bad.” Despite the thickness of your voice, your humor breaks through.

He snorts and pushes you away, rolling his eyes. “Dude, for real?”

“I’m just being honest.” You tug on his arm, and for a moment, he sees a glimpse of your previous friendship.

Maybe everything can work out.

“As your best friend, I think we should watch that movie with Mark and Chae.” You grab his hand and play with his fingers.

“Okay.” He nods. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

That’s how he ends up curled up with you on the couch, your back pressed to his chest and snuggled up with a blanket. He feels at peace for the first time in a long time, the steadiness of your breathing almost enough to lull him to sleep. The screen plays some sort of superhero movie, but he’s not too interested in it. He’s more interested in the way a small sound tumbles from your lips as you turn toward him.

He holds you close, smiling to himself at the warmth you create. When he glances back up, he meets Chae’s gaze. The woman scans over the two of you, her expression warm. Chenle thinks he imagined it for a moment since he’s so tired, but Chae gives him a thumbs up and turns back to the screen.

Day 16 | June 16th

“Chenle, can I talk to you for a minute?” Chaeyoung asks, leaning on the archway leading into the kitchen.

You went with Heewon and Jaemin to the store, so he had nothing to do otherwise. He nods and follows her into the other room. Grabbing the orange juice from the fridge, he tiredly gives her all of his attention.

“What’s up?”

“I saw the way you looked at her yesterday,” she begins, tapping her fingernails against the carpet. “So either you know how you feel or you’re in denial, but you need to tell her. One or both of you are going to get hurt by the end of this if you’re not honest with each other.”

“I appreciate the advice, Chae, but I’m not sure you have all of the facts.” Chenle crosses his arms over his chest.

“And what am I missing?” she asks.

“Honestly, you may know some things, but you’ll never know all of it,” he replies. “It’ll never be an easy situation to digest, but we’re best friends. We’re mature enough to handle this.”

“You realize if this all falls apart, it’s going to fuck up the rest of the group, too?” She frowns. “You guys aren’t really thinking this through.”

Right when Chenle goes to answer her, the front door opens, and he hears your conversation with Heewon spill through the house.

“Thanks for your concerns.” Chenle nods once before turning around to find you.

Day 17 | June 17th

Chenle throws his head back, hand tangled in your hair as you take his cock in your mouth. He sits on the edge of the bed and you kneel before him, drooling over his length. Your moans vibrate around him. This is the first time you’ve sucked him off, but he’s already found out this is as addicting as everything else.

“That’s it.” He allows his eyes to flutter shut and his eyebrows furrow the closer he gets. “You always take my cock so well, Sunshine.”

You whine, and his hips buck, slamming his tip into the back of your throat. You constrict around him, and his grip on your head tightens. God, he can’t fucking think straight around you. Your nails dig into his thighs, and despite choking around him, you continue bobbing your head up and down.

The base of his length starts to tingle, and he tugs your hair gently. “Gonna cum, baby, you don’t have to—fuck.”

Your response is to simply hollow your cheeks, the lewd sounds around the two of you almost loud enough to make him worry about others hearing it. The suction from your mouth has him approaching his high rapidly, and once you reach up to touch his balls, he cums in white spurts deep in your throat.

Day 18 | June 18th

“Chenle,” you whisper, leaning closer to him.

The summer wind brushes past the two of you sitting on the little porch connected to his bedroom. It’s the middle of the night, and the only thing covering you is a soft blanket. He has his own, but he regrets that. He wants to be wrapped up with you. The waves crash to the shoreline, the salty, ocean scent infiltrating everything around him.

“Yeah?”

“This is my favorite summer,” you tell him.

“Me too.” He squeezes your arm. “I’d stay just like this forever if I could.”

You make him open his arms before shifting yourself onto his lap and covering him with your blanket as you grind your bare body down onto his.

“What’s the likelihood they hear us out here?” you ask, leaning in to kiss along his neck.

“They’ve got a better chance of hearing us inside than this…” he trails off, wondering if he should really allow something like this to happen.

But soon enough, you kiss him for real. And when your lips are working on his, he’s inherently weak for you. It doesn’t take long for his cock to harden, and once it does, you line him up with your entrance.

“We don’t have a condom,” he chokes out, gripping your ass.

“Pull out when you’re about to cum, then,” you tell him. “If that’s okay?”

His hand finds the nape of your neck, pulling your mouth to his to seal his fate with a kiss. He guides you down on his cock, groaning at the feeling of taking you raw. You don’t even give yourself time to adjust, instead working your way through your sensitivity by bouncing on him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he reminds you. “Look at how well you take my cock.”

He’s learned so much about you during this short time, but he loves knowing what makes you crumble within minutes. His fingers wrap around your throat, and as he puts the perfect amount of pressure, your eyes roll and your hips work faster.

He tightens his grip, and your whine is interrupted. You show him no mercy, lifting and falling with such precision he wants to fill you up with his load.

The blanket is secure on your grip draping off of Chenle’s shoulders, so you nearly fall against him when his fingers connect with your clit. He’s teetering close to the edge, but he knows he has to pull out. No way is he cumming before you.

Your arousal makes him glide against your bud effortlessly, and he squeezes your throat harder at the same time.

“Chenle.” You gasp, pace changing as you get closer to your high. “Please cum inside. Need to feel your cum dripping out of m—fuck.” Your voice breaks as he thrusts up hard, hitting your spot. A broken moan escapes, nearly cut off by his grip on you, and your walls clamp down on his cock.

He watches you as he spurts his load and paints your insides, but all he sees is a blissed out smile and your heaving chest.

You slump against him and hum quietly. He grabs his blanket and wraps it around both of you, not wanting to leave you just yet. The summer breeze sweeps across the back of his neck, chilling the sweaty dampness.

He wants to tell you so badly.

He loves you. He wants to love you forever, but maybe he’ll only get these fleeting moments.

What a cruel, cruel summer this has become.

Day 19 | June 19th

The days pass so quickly. It’s been eighteen days since he first made you his, and all he wants is to make it last forever. The whole group goes to a movie theater, hopping between different rooms and films to catch a glimpse of everything that’s recently hit the big screens.

But he can’t take his eyes off of you.

The way you smile so widely in his direction. How all of your friends are so used to him being all over you.

Your laugh echoes around in his brain, and when the poor employee realizes what you’re doing, they try to stop you to figure out who you are. Chenle’s giggles join yours as he grasps your hand and pulls you toward the exit.

The two of you run, and with your fingers laced in his, you’re somehow separated from your friend group.

Once you’re outside, he presses your back to the brick of the building, kissing you in the midst of laughing. His hand latches onto the fabric of your shirt at the small of your back, and he works his lips on yours like magic.

How is he ever supposed to go back to normal after having you like this?

“Come on,” you tell him, grabbing his wrist and leading him away. “We’ve gotta find them.”

But he knows that no matter where you go, he’ll follow.

Day 20 | June 20th

He lost track of how many times his body has tangled with yours. How many times you’ve quietly, desperately called out his name while he takes you to new worlds you’ve never seen before.

He yearns to be grounded, to plant his feet back on Earth, but how does he do that when the universe that is you infiltrates his very being? All the stars and planets and milky ways and meteors float around in your dazed irises, and he caresses your face.

He loves you. He wants to tell you. He needs you to love him back.

Day 21 | June 21st

“Okay, this one is easy.” Donghyuck holds his hand up to reign in everyone’s excitement. “Never have I ever…kissed someone in the friend group.”

You glance at Chenle once, and he shrugs, so both of you lift your bottles. The point of this game? Get as drunk as possible. Every time someone says something you’ve done, you have to drink. Which means everyone is thoroughly surprised when every single person around the table sips from their cups.

“We’re the worst friend group,” Mark says, nearly hissing at the taste of the liquid burning down his throat. “We said ‘friends’ and turned it into an orgy.”

Heewon glares at him. “Dude.”

“Sorry.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender.

But soon enough, six pairs of eyes are on you and Chenle, and he immediately feels his face burning.

“You two want to explain?” Hyuck asks.

“Is everyone else explaining?” Chenle quirks an eyebrow, watching as Donghyuck purses his lips.

“No explanations unless you ask more questions,” you pipe up.

Chenle hopes that’ll divert the conversation from the two of you. His hand brushes over your knee under the table, and you send him a small smile.

“Fine,” Mark says. “Never have I ever kissed my best friend.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees you grab your bottle, so he doesn’t hesitate to do the same. He takes a fairly large drink, forcing the alcohol down his throat to make this night less painful.

Chaeyoung watches the two of you closely, and the rest of the group seems hyped up on adrenaline, like they’ve caught you and him in a lie of sorts. This news can’t be that shocking to them. Or maybe they’re all pining at the idea of being right.

But they’re not—you’re not in love with Chenle. Meaning, they’d be completely wrong.

Jaemin, who’s already had a bit too much from the hour of this game you’ve already been playing, laughs as he points at Chenle.

“I’ve got one.” He nods slowly, the smirk spreading across his face as he leans on Jeno’s shoulder. “Never have I ever had sex with my best friend.”

Your gasp is only audible to Chenle and Chaeyoung, who sits on the opposite side of you. Both you and Chenle are already holding your glasses, and you look at him, silently asking him if that’s something you should admit to the group.

You’re incredibly stiff, but Chenle watches as you slowly lift your hand. Before you get far, Chaeyoung smacks the back of Jaemin’s head.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” she hisses. “You can’t ask them things like that!”

Your cup lands back on the table louder than you planned. Chenle analyzes you, the stiffness of your back and the way you glance down at your lap instead of the rest of the group. His instinct makes him want to pull you away from them to somewhere you’ll be more comfortable.

“Oh, come on! They were about to admit to it.” Jaemin lets out a dramatic sigh. “Did you see the hesitation? They were seconds away from finally telling us if they’ve done it.”

Your hand lands on Chenle’s thigh, and he immediately knows what that means. A switch inside of him turns, and anger bubbles in his stomach. You’re his best friend, and it doesn’t matter what anyone else wants to know—the last thing he’ll let happen is any of them attempting to badger you into admitting something you don’t want the rest of the group to know.

“We’re all friends, why does it matter if we know or not?” Jeno agrees. “We’ve all been waiting for them to—”

“Knock it off,” Chenle deadpans, his voice dropping octaves. He leans forward, his arm crossing over you and his other hand gripping his bottle tighter. At the change in tone, everyone looks at him in shock, excitement fading into a nervous energy.

“Lighten up,” Donghyuck says. “They’re just joking—”

“Well, I’m not,” he replies, furrowing his eyebrows. “The hell’s wrong with you guys? You can’t tell when you’re making someone uncomfortable? Neither of us owe you anything, if you didn’t know that. You don’t need to know everything.”

“Okay,” Jaemin mumbles. “Didn’t know it was that big of a deal.”

“That’s because you don’t think, Jaemin. If anything happens between us that we want to share, we’ll share. But until then, mind your fucking business—”

“Lele,” you mutter to him, reaching forward to grasp his wrist in front of you. “Lele, it’s okay. They get it.”

He instantly relaxes at your words, running his tongue over his teeth as he rests back in his seat. You grasp his hand beneath the table and intertwine your fingers with his, rubbing your thumb against his skin.

“Sorry, (Y/N),” Jaemin says, fidgeting with his hands.

You give him an awkward smile and a nod. Chenle senses the atmosphere won’t return to the chaotic laughter it’d recently been filled with, so he wonders what’ll happen if he lets everyone know he’s taking you to bed.

When everyone resumes as much conversation as they can, Chenle leans in close to you to whisper in your ear. “Do you want to go to bed?”

It’s well past midnight, and the alcohol is starting to settle in his system. He is tired. You run your fingers through your hair and nod. He doesn’t say anything to the rest of the group, but you mutter something to Chaeyoung, who gives you a sympathetic smile and a nod.

Although he refrains from physically leading you away, he feels everyone’s eyes on the two of you. It shouldn’t upset him as much as it does. Plus, he wouldn’t mind all that much if they knew, but seeing the way it bothered you suddenly had him on ten. There was no other solution other than to put them all in their place.

Once you’re in the confines of his room, he pulls you into a hug. You melt in his embrace, your body basically limp. He rubs up and down your back, wishing he could take that feeling away from you for good. You deserve the best, and he wants to give it to you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I don’t know why they’d fucking do that.”

You shake your head. “They’d know eventually, right? We wouldn’t have been able to keep it a secret forever.”

“They should never push something like that. They’re supposed to be our friends, (Y/N). You were uncomfortable.”

“Le,” you say, pulling back to look at him. “As much as I appreciated you standing up for me, all I want right now is my best friend, okay? Just…be that guy, please.”

Both of you change into your pajamas, and then climb into bed. If you wanted him to be your best friend, he could do that. Hell, he’s spent his whole life basically doing it, so as he pulls you to his chest, it’s like muscle memory.

Everywhere Chenle is, you’re right there next to him. Never behind, never ahead, always beside.

“Chenle,” you whisper.

“Yeah, Sunshine?” He strokes your hair, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

“I…Can you be my best friend and still kiss me?” you ask. “I don’t want anything else. Just kissing.”

He lifts your chin so you’re looking at him and gives you the faintest smile. “I can be whatever you want me to be.”

Your eyes swim with all sorts of emotions, and while he’d love to sit there and analyze each one of them, you allow them to flutter shut in anticipation of his kiss.

He can’t recall a time where he’s kissed you so gently, as if you might shatter beneath his touch. Placing his hand on the small of your back, he presses you flush against him while his mouth works so effortlessly on yours.

There’s no heat behind it. The only sounds are of the rustling of his sheets, the soft sighs, and his quiet compliments between breathing breaks. He allows himself to get lost in this, in the way it feels so different from every other kiss he’s shared with you.

Those kisses all lead to sex. They were a bridge to being physical, but now all he wants is to lie in this bed with you forever, connected in such a basic and innocent way.

“You make all of it better,” you murmur, inhaling deeply. “Everything I am is for you, Zhong Chenle.”

“And you’ve built me from the ground up,” he replies. “I was created for you. I don’t know who I am without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out.”

His heart runs rampant, doing all sorts of backflips in his chest. He starts to sweat even though he’s not physically exerting himself, and he desperately feels like he needs to grasp at something. If he doesn’t, he’ll fall…but can he even more than he already has?

Is falling in love something that happens gradually, continually, or is it all at once? Once you’ve fallen in love, can you still progress further into it, or is that feeling at its peak?

He thinks back to the first time he realized he wanted more from you. It’s been over a year since he admitted it to himself, and the person he was during that time never would believe that this is his life now.

“You promise?” Chenle’s nearly breathless, your words robbing him of the oxygen he needs to survive.

You smile ever so softly, nodding slowly. “I’m yours. Always.”

The promise sinks through his skin and into his bloodstream, flowing all the way through his body and infiltrating his brain. It means so much more to him than it means to you, he knows that, but he kisses you again anyway.

He kisses you over and over and over again. By the time the sun comes up in the morning, neither of you have slept, but your lips are swollen and your eyes are drooping.

No matter what, he’ll hold you to your word.

Day 22 | June 22nd

Two coffee cups steam from the table on Chenle’s patio. He sits, slumped, on the padded bench with you next to him, legs thrown over his lap. His thumb rubs your thigh. Exhaustion has yet to kick in, especially as he looks at you. Your hair is mussed, his T-shirt hanging off your shoulder and your shorts hiking up your thighs. Everything about this is domestic, and it makes his heart flutter.

He stayed up all night with you. The sunrise over the water leaves a calming wave cascading over him, and he gets an odd feeling that it’s all going to be okay.

He’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.

You bring the coffee cup up to your lips, sighing at the taste. He made it for you. But not only that, he made it the way you’ve always loved it. You told him once, and he never forgot. Every detail he learns about you is immediately stored in his memory.

“Maybe we should tell them,” you say, running your fingers through his hair. “That way, they’ll leave us alone. And whatever we’re doing would get a little easier.”

“Would it?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“None of this is easy.” Chenle gulps, wishing he had the filter necessary to make him bite his tongue right now. “What we’re doing isn’t easy. We don’t even know what it is, so why would we try to explain it to other people?”

“Oh.” You drink more, tired gaze turning to the ocean in the distance.

“It’s not a bad thing. I’m just being honest.”

“Yeah, no, honesty is good,” you agree. “You’re right.”

“(Y/N), I—”

“No.” You hold up your hand. “We said the end of the summer, so I get it. I’d rather wait anyway.”

He wants to grab you by the shoulders and shake you, telling you all the things he loves about you and how badly he wants you to be his forever.

“I’m gonna need six more cups of coffee.” You swing your legs off of him, and leave him sitting by himself, caught up in the warm, summer breeze the same way he’s caught up in you.

Day 25 | June 25th

Going out to the bar was the worst idea ever. The more you drank, the more you wanted to be all over Chenle. He didn’t mind it, but the more he drank, the more he wanted to touch you in ways that would have every saint covering their eyes.

You turn to face him, flashing lights reflecting off your skin as you dance with him. His brain is so clouded, so foggy, but he remembers you kissing him. He groaned into your mouth, pulling you closer and doing his best to maintain a rhythm with you. For a moment, he forgets that all of your friends are here too, but he has high hopes they’ll be too drunk to recall.

You pull away, jaw dropped as you remove his grasp on your and quickly stumble toward the exit. He curses under his breath, knowing he can’t let you go alone in a state like this. The world is tilting around him as he follows you, but he refuses to let you out of his sight. The protective urges come forward.

“(Y/N)!” he calls out to you as the two of you make it outside. “Hey! Stop it.”

“Leave me alone, Chenle.” The thickness of your voice has every last bit of alcohol drying up from his system. He jogs to catch up to you, grabbing your wrist and whirling you around to look at him.

Your eyes are bloodshot, tears falling down your cheeks.

“What’s wrong, Sunshine?” he whispers, tugging you to his chest. “God, are you okay?”

“‘M fine,” you reply, but your body shudders in his grasp.

“Come on.” He scoffs. “I didn’t stop being your best friend just because we’re sleeping together.”

You put your palm on your forehead, cursing under your breath. “I just kissed you in there. In front of everyone.”

“Yeah.” Chenle shrugs. “What’s wrong with that?”

“It was supposed to be simple,” you murmur, tugging on your hair with your fingers. “We were supposed to have fun this summer, and everything’s fucking falling apart—”

He recoils. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re gonna leave me.” Your voice breaks, and his heart right along with it.

“Why would you say something like that?”

“It’s all just—” you cut yourself off, clutching Chenle’s shirt. “Too much. I want you so fucking bad all the time.”

“Me too, baby, you know that.” He cups your cheeks, wiping your tears away. “I’m not going anywhere. No matter what happens, I’ll always be right next to you. Promise, Sunshine.”

His own eyes well at the sight, but he wonders what really brought all of this on. He presses his lips to your forehead, allowing them to linger there a moment too long. Pulling you close, his gaze turns toward the building, where Jaemin and Heewon stand. He gives them the best, watery glare he can, and they quickly shuffle back inside.

It’ll never be him who leaves you. If anyone were going to run away, it will absolutely be you.

And that crushes his heart even further. Beats it to a tiny pulp and straight up purees it until it’s mush.

He takes you home, puts you in bed, and spends half the night out on his patio, leaning on the wooden railing and watching the waves crash into the midnight shore.

The view from here gives him a glimpse of the driveway, and the rest of the group pulls in not even an hour later. He makes eye contact with Jaemin, and while the others head inside, Jaemin approaches him with his hands in his pockets.

“Hey,” Jaemin says softly. “You got a few minutes?”

Chenle looks inside at your sleeping form and gently closes the door with a sigh. “I’ve got nothing but time.”

“Look, man, we all get it.” Jaemin’s feet thud quietly on the creaky stairs as he makes his way up, stopping and leaning his back against the railing as he analyzes Chenle. “We love you guys. A lot. And something weird has been going on, and it’s not like we don’t notice.”

“A lot of weird has been going on,” Chenle says, chuckling to himself. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it. It’s just us now.”

The other man purses his lips, taking a deep breath of salty air. “You love her, don’t you?”

“I wish it were as simple as that.” He clasps his hands together, wondering how much he should say.

“It can be,” Jaemin replies. “You think she doesn’t love you?”

“I know she doesn’t,” he insists. “You don’t know her like I do.”

His friend nods, as if he’s conceding with what Chenle’s saying. But he knows better—Jaemin is good at these things. Regardless of whatever happened a few nights back, Jaemin is insightful when it comes to relationships despite not having much experience in that department.

“You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, okay? But I know something is. And I notice (Y/N) talking to Chae a lot, but you never talk to anyone about serious things except for her. It’s okay to be confused and to want to talk about things.”

“She didn’t want anyone to know.” Chenle lets out a defeated sigh, allowing his head to hang between his shoulders.

“To know what?”

“We…” Chenle considers biting his tongue. At the end of the day, he knows he can trust Jaemin, and that he’d never do anything to betray Chenle’s trust, but the words leaving his mouth feel like a betrayal to you. “We’ve been hooking up, I guess.”

“Oh, like…more than once.” Jaemin blinks his shock away.

“Yeah. Like, the whole summer so far.” He runs his hands down his face. “We’d never done anything before, and I honestly didn’t think it would be a possibility. And then we did. And it was fast and not at all what I wanted it to be and just—sorry, Jaem.”

“No, no.” He gestures for him to continue. “Let it out. It’s good for you to process these things.”

“I thought I really fucked up by doing that, you know? She didn’t stay in my room with me that night, she didn’t even talk to me until the next day. Which maybe doesn’t seem bad, but it is for us. But then she said she wanted to do it again, and I…well, I obviously didn’t say no. Maybe I should have.” He picks at his nails, fighting hard with the lump lodged in his throat.

“Honestly, I’m having trouble figuring out why you won’t tell her how you feel.”

“If I tell her and lose her because of it, I genuinely don’t know how I’d live without her. She’s been in my life forever, Jaem. It’s not her fault I can’t keep myself in check,” he says.

“If she doesn’t realize you’re in love with her, she’s really fucking dense.” Jaemin chuckles to himself. “And you’re equally as dense for thinking that she doesn’t love you.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Yes, it is.”

“How?”

“Chenle, you’ve spent every day with her this summer. And I’m not going to pretend to know your business, but I’m sure all the alone time you’ve had hasn’t been innocent. Nobody in their right mind starts sleeping with their best friend without at least a little bit of a worry that they’ll fall in love. Come on, you two are practically dating already anyway.”

“It’s hard, okay?” Chenle brushes the other man off. “We said we’d talk about it at the end of the summer, so I’m gonna save my heart for a few more days.”

“It’s okay to be selfish sometimes.” Jaemin taps the railing once more before he starts his descent down the stairs. “You won’t get what you want if you’re sitting around and watching it pass you by.”

Day 26 | June 26th

He told himself he would hold off on any more physical stuff before he was able to talk to you about what happened last night, but that was…apparently…short lived. Your chest presses against his, both of you on your sides as he gently massages your ass. You made it a point this morning to grind back against him until he was hard and aching. He’s not entirely sure how he’s avoided exactly this for so long.

He pulls your leg up on his waist, stretching you as he rubs his cock against your folds. You moan into his mouth as your slickness coats him, signaling to him that you’re more than ready to take everything he has to offer.

After a few moments of shifting, his tip enters you. Your nails dig into his shoulders as he thrusts the head of his cock in and out. Chills already break out along his body, his palms sweaty as he teases you.

“Please,” you whimper. “I need more.”

“Greedy girl,” he scolds you, slowly pushing all the way in. “Pretty baby just wants to be full, huh?”

“Only you,” you mumble, nearly incoherently as you try to rock your hips. “Only greedy for you.”

Under normal circumstances, he’d care about the sound of the bed squeaking, or the way the headboard taps the wall with each of his thrusts, but all he’s thinking about is fucking good this position allows him to feel you.

After fucking you raw, the condom almost hinders the feeling of you clenching around him, but he tries to focus on giving you as much pleasure as he can.

“C’mon, tell me what you want.” Chenle bucks his hips hard, making you whine.

“Touch me. Wanna cum.” Your head lolls forward, forehead smacking into his chest.

“Touch you where, baby?” He pushes you further. “You’re already soaking my cock, what else could you need?”

“Lele, please—”

“I’ll stop,” he warns you. “Neither of us will finish if you don’t use your words.”

Dazed, you let out a frustrated moan, and he smirks at you.

“M-my clit,” you whisper. “Please touch me there.”

Your arousal squelches around him with each of his thrusts, and you squirm as you yearn for your orgasm that’s just out of reach. He considers teasing you more, but you look so fucking good like this, walls pulsing and begging for release, he can’t deny you.

His hand snakes down your body, and he kisses your jawline. “Don’t cum ‘til I say you can, okay? I’d hate to punish you when you’ve done so well so far.”

“If y—fuck.” You cut yourself off when his finger comes in contact with your swollen, aching bud, and your nails scratch down his back. He knows you won’t be able to hold back if he touches you in the right way.

“You gotta wait for me, baby, I’m almost there.” He thrusts harder, the creak of the bed becoming more prominent as he continues barely rubbing your clit.

“Lele.” You clench your eyes shut. “I c-can’t, oh my God.”

“But you’re so good.” He slams his hips against yours. “So fucking good, just a little longer.”

Your entire body shakes. He didn’t think he’d ever find something like this so arousing, but when you look at him and your eyes are welled with tears from your need, he curses, thrusts one more time, and cums hard into the condom when he’s buried deep inside you.

He can’t remember the last time he came this much, and he wishes he didn’t have this stupid fucking piece of rubber on. The idea of painting your insides white has him thrusting through his overstimulation to bring you to your peak.

He applies more pressure to your clit, pinching it, rubbing it until you bite down on his shoulder hard as your walls and body convulse in his grasp. Cursing at the jolt of pain he feels, he moans when he realizes how it adds to his pleasure.

“Holy shit,” he whispers as you let go of him.

“Asshole.” You laugh, attempting to catch your breath.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, scratching up and down your back. “It felt like you liked it.”

“Yeah, I hope that bite mark scars permanently.”

“Laying claim on me, are you?”

Oh, how he wishes you would.

Day 28 | June 28th

Today is arguably Chenle’s favorite day of the summer. Ironic, since it’s the second to last full day he has with all of his friends, but the tradition set is what makes him think this way.

A bonfire crackles in front of him, his arm over your shoulder as everyone stands around the climbing orange flame. The goal is each person writes all of their regrets down from the past year, and what they hope to accomplish over the next, and then they burn it. It’s an odd positivity ritual that none of them have ever skipped.

Chenle wrote his down the night before after you fell asleep.

Regrets:

I regret not telling (Y/N) I love her. Again.

I regret not seizing every opportunity that presents itself to me.

I regret wasting my life away while everything I’ve ever wanted is right in front of my eyes.

I regret shutting down and allowing my friends to help me.

I regret not advancing in my chosen career path.

Hopes:

I hope I will be able to express myself thoroughly.

I hope I will be able to tell (Y/N) my feelings.

I hope those feelings will be reciprocated.

I hope, above all, that she’s happy.

He glances around, taking a look at everyone around him. Jaemin, Jeno, Heewon, Donghyuck, Mark, Chaeyoung, and even you. Each person has had such a fundamental hand in the making of the person he is today, and a lot of times, he takes that for granted.

“Okay, who wants to go first?” Mark asks.

“I will,” you say, stepping up.

Chenle watches you with adoration, wishing he could move forward with you, but knowing there are some times where you have to shine on your own.

“Another year.” You clear your throat. “All of you mean the world to me. You helped me when I was twelve and in desperate need of a confidence boost, and you help me now at twenty-three when sometimes all I need is a drink and a cookie.”

A chorus of laughter falls from everyone.

“Mark, thank you for all of the midday pep-talks and reality checks. Jeno, thank you for being the comedic relief right when I always need it. Jaemin, thank you for always knowing what to say, no matter the situation. Chae, thank you for saving me from myself more times than I can count. Hyuck, thank you for knowing exactly when I want ice cream and a rant session. Heewon, thank you for never judging me despite my shit decisions.”

You turn back to Chenle, the gleam in your eye reflecting the billions of stars from the sky above.

“Chenle, thank you for never underestimating me and for knowing me better than I know myself. For all of the years we’ve had, and all the ones we will have.”

“You’ve got all of mine,” Chenle says to you.

With a final grin, you take your folded up piece of paper out of your pocket and toss it into the fire, and everyone watches as it burns to ash. Once you’re satisfied, you move back to Chenle and hug him tightly.

He deflates in your grasp, cradling the back of your head and relishing in the weight of your words.

Mark goes next, then Hyuck, Chae, Heewon, Jaemin, and Jeno, leaving Chenle to be the last one. He purses his lips, twirling his own note in his fingers as he glances over his shoulder at you.

It takes him a while to think of what he wants to say despite the fact he’s been looking forward to this since the vacation started. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the smokiness of the air mixed with ocean salt, and really, truly thinks of how he’s made it as far as he has.

“Well, guys, another year down.” He shakes his head as he thinks of how fast time passes. “Life wouldn’t be the same without you guys. We get busy throughout the year, but I’m really happy we get to spend this time here and that we’re able to be together this entire month. Everyone has their unique roles in this friend group, and it’d be incredibly off if any one of us weren’t here. So, my thank you is for all of you, for being there for me and making this little bunch into a family. ‘Cause that’s what you guys are. You’re my family.”

He glances back at you much like you had done to him, and he’s met with your dazzling smile. His nerves calm at the sight, and he chews the inside of his cheek as he tosses his paper into the flame.

It’s like he physically feels the hurt, regret, and carelessness from the past year lift off his shoulders, intertwine with the smoke, and disappear. He feels lighter, like he can take on the world. And in this moment, when he sees you staring at him with such adoration, he knows that now is the moment.

No time will ever be the right time, and he’ll never have courage if he doesn’t push himself.

He walks back to you, hands in his pockets. “(Y/N), can I talk to you over there for a minute?”

You nod, and as he guides you a safe distance away, he meets Jaemin’s gaze. The grin of approval is all he needs, and the other man makes sure the friend group is paying attention to him instead of you and Chenle.

“What’s up?” you ask, tilting your head. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m alright.” He pauses and reaches over to grab your hand. “I just…One of my regrets last year was not having courage, and not being able to ask for the things I want because I wasn’t…ready for them, I guess.”

You nod, urging him to continue.

“You’re my best friend. All of this stuff we’ve been through this summer, I need you to know that’ll never change no matter what. If I didn’t have you in my life, I think I’d be screwed.” He chuckles, the nerves gnawing away at his throat and making his voice shake. “This has been the best month of my life, honestly, but I shouldn’t have gone into something like this without being completely transparent.”

To that, you frown, but wait for him to continue.

He takes a moment to work up the strength to tell you, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. His hands shake, and he feels faint, but he knows it’s now or never. He can’t let you leave this place for another year without knowing the truth.

“I…I’m in love with you. And I have been for so long, but I didn’t want to ruin this. When all of this started, I wanted to tell you no because I thought I’d end up getting hurt because of it all. And maybe I still will, but at least now you’ll know the truth.”

He’s not sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t you starting to laugh. His gaze darts back up to yours, and your head is in your hands.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “If that’s not what you wanted, we can still be—”

“Zhong Chenle, you are far too dense for your own good.” You beam at him, reaching up to cup his cheeks and pull him in for a kiss.

He’s in shock at first, but after a second, he’s pulling you as close to him as possible. You swallow his sigh of relief, and when he moves back, he sees the tear streaks down your face.

“Hey, none of that,” he whispers, wiping them away.

“I love you, Chenle,” you tell him. “I’ve wanted to tell you for so fucking long—”

You cut yourself off by connecting your lips to his again, giggles interrupting you every so often.

The rest of the group cheers and yells by the fire, clearly not one of them surprised by this outcome. He leads you back to them, fingers interlocked tightly and a permanent smile etched on his face.

For the rest of the night, he doesn’t let you go. He holds you close, kisses you all over your face, and squeezes you.

He loves you.

He’s in love with you, and you’re not going anywhere.

If this is the cruelest summer he ever has to endure, he’s more than ready for the rest of them.

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