#and i hope your day has been as sweet as you are | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

misaerabl · 3 days ago

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Down, Girl

CONTENT: wc…9.7k �� toxic reader, loser ellie, oral sex (e!receiving), reader riding ellies face, fingering (both receiving), you eat ellie out in the bathroom, reader is a freak, more commanding, possessive, and is a bitch to everyone, uh you didn’t let her cum, reader guilt tripping ellie. SUMMARY: Ellie has always been yours—pathetic, desperate, following you around like a stray dog hoping for scraps. She worships you, does whatever you say, lets you push her around because she thinks maybe one day, you’ll love her back. You just like the attention. But then something shifts. Ellie starts pulling away, making friends that aren’t you, not always answering when you call. She’s still there, still yours, but she’s hesitating. You can’t have that. So you remind her—she belongs to you.

February 8, Afternoon.

You’re used to having Ellie right where you want her.

It’s almost funny, how easy it is. You press a little, and she bends. You pull, and she follows. Always so eager, always so desperate. It’s adorable, really. The way she watches you like you’re something holy. Like she’s lucky just to be near you.

You lean against her locker, waiting. The hallway is loud, but you don’t hear any of it. You’re too focused on the fact that she’s late. She’s never late.

She shows up two minutes later, looking like she rushed over. “Hey,” she breathes, pushing her hair back, shifting under your gaze.

You tilt your head. “Didn’t see you this morning.”

Ellie scratches the back of her neck. “Yeah, I—uh, I had to finish something.”

Your eyes flick over her, taking in the way she won’t quite meet your gaze. She looks guilty. She should.

You step closer, your voice honeyed but sharp. “You’re not avoiding me, are you?”

Her head snaps up, wide-eyed. “No! No, I just—”

You hum, watching her squirm. Cute. “Good.”

You don’t have to say anything else. Ellie falls in step with you like always. Like she doesn’t even realize you just put a leash back around her neck.

You met Ellie Williams when you were thirteen.

Back then, she was just some scrawny, awkward kid with too many freckles and a closet full of ugly hoodies. The kind of girl who looked like she belonged in the background of a school photo, forgotten as soon as the camera flashed.

You were different. You had a presence—one that people noticed. And Ellie? She noticed you the most.

You don’t remember the exact moment she started following you around. It just happened. One day, she was a classmate. The next, she was yours.

It started small. She’d let you copy her homework, save you a seat at lunch, carry your things without you asking. She never expected anything in return. She just wanted to be close to you.

You liked that.

So you let her in, just enough to keep her hooked. Just enough to make her think she had a chance.

Now, years later, nothing has changed.

Ellie still follows you like a lost dog, still waits for your texts, still lights up when you so much as look at her. You let her sleep in your bed sometimes—when you’re feeling generous. You let her drive you places, take care of you when you’re drunk, clean up your messes.

She doesn’t complain. She never does.

But lately, something feels… off.

She hesitates before answering your texts. She doesn’t wait for you after class like she used to. You caught her sitting with some new people at lunch last week. When you asked about it, she stammered out some excuse, but it didn’t matter. You already knew—she was getting comfortable somewhere else.

You can’t have that.

So now, as you walk beside her, your fingers brush over hers—light, teasing, just enough to make her breath hitch.

“Missed you,” you murmur, voice sweet. “You’ve been distant.”

Ellie swallows hard. “I haven’t—I mean, I didn’t mean to—”

You grip her wrist, stopping her in the middle of the hallway. She looks down at you, startled.

You smile, tilting your head. “Then don’t.”

She nods. Just like that, the hesitation is gone. Just like that, she’s yours again.

Good girl.

Ellie’s house is small, lived-in, the kind of place that smells like old books, laundry detergent, and whatever air freshener her aunt picked up from the store that week. It’s familiar. You’ve been here more times than you can count, curled up on her bed, stealing her hoodies, making yourself at home like you own the place.

You do own it—at least, the parts that matter.

Ellie sits on the floor, back against the couch, guitar balanced on her thigh. Her fingers move over the strings absentmindedly, plucking a tune you don’t recognize. Her head is bowed, auburn hair falling over her face. She looks calm, focused. Content.

She should be looking at you.

You shift slightly, adjusting the little boy in your lap. Luke is Ellie’s half-brother, a quiet kid who took to you the way most people do—easily, naturally, like it’s impossible not to. Right now, he’s holding onto your wrist with his small hands, playing with the bracelets on it as he leans against you.

You hum, brushing a hand through his messy curls. “Ellie,” you say, dragging out her name just a little, letting it settle in the air.

Her fingers falter against the strings. She looks up, eyes flicking to yours immediately, like muscle memory.

“Play something I know,” you say, voice soft. Sweet.

Ellie nods without question, shifting the guitar, adjusting her grip. She starts playing again, and this time, the song is familiar—one she knows you like, one she’s played for you before, late at night when it was just the two of you.

You smile, satisfied.

Luke tugs on your sleeve. “Sing,” he says, tilting his head up at you.

You laugh, ruffling his hair. “I don’t sing, baby.”

He pouts. “Ellie says you do.”

Your gaze snaps to her. She freezes, caught.

You raise a brow, smirking. “You been talking about me, Williams?”

Ellie clears her throat, looking away, ears tinged pink. “Just—just mentioned it.”

Cute.

You lean back against the couch, letting Luke curl against you, your gaze still on Ellie. She keeps playing, but you can tell she’s distracted now, too aware of your eyes on her.

Good.

She was starting to forget her place. But that’s alright—you’ll just have to remind her.

Ellie’s room smells like her. A mix of faintly sweet vanilla and something sharp, like the lemon-scented cleaning spray her mom always insists on using. Her bed is unmade, as usual, a pile of mismatched blankets and clothes scattered around the floor. The space is small, but it’s hers. Her little kingdom.

And right now, it’s just the two of you—her sitting at the edge of the bed, fiddling with her fingers, her knees drawn up to her chest. You sit across from her, lounging in the chair by her desk, legs stretched out, letting your fingers lightly tap the rhythm of a song you’ve been listening to on repeat.

You watch her. You always watch her.

Her hands keep moving, an unconscious twitch, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, her fingers tracing circles on her knee. She looks away from you, a little too quickly, as if she’s trying to avoid your gaze.

You raise an eyebrow. Nervous again, huh?

It’s cute.

"What's going on?" you ask, leaning forward slightly, letting your voice fall soft but sharp, like a thread pulling her closer to you.

Ellie shifts her weight, finally looking up at you, her brown eyes wide. Her lips part like she’s going to say something, but she hesitates, just long enough to make it obvious. You know she’s working up the nerve. You know she’s always working up the nerve when it comes to you.

"Just…thinking," she says, voice quiet, almost sheepish.

You can’t help the smirk that curls on your lips. “Thinking? About what, Ellie?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she bites her lip and continues to fidget, her thumb rubbing over the top of her knuckles in that rhythmic, nervous way you’ve come to recognize. It’s a habit, a tell. One of many.

You wait, letting the silence stretch just enough to make her uncomfortable.

“I don’t want to disappoint you," she says suddenly, the words spilling out before she can stop them.

Your breath catches in your chest, but you don’t let her see it. Instead, you stand up slowly, taking a few steps toward her, watching the way her posture shifts, like she’s waiting for something.

You kneel in front of her, just close enough that she has to meet your eyes. You don’t speak at first. Instead, you reach out and gently touch her hands, making her stop fidgeting.

Her fingers freeze, the muscles in her shoulders stiffening. She still won’t look at you.

“Disappoint me?” you repeat softly, voice low and teasing. You let the words linger, making her feel the weight of them. "You know I don't like when you do that."

Her eyes dart up to meet yours, and for a moment, you see the tiniest flicker of fear in them—like she’s scared of what you might do if she does disappoint you.

You smile, that same sweet, dangerous smile. "You won’t disappoint me, Ellie. You can’t."

Her breath hitches, and for a second, you think she might say something else—something more. But she doesn’t.

Instead, she just lets you pull her hands into yours, squeezing them gently, her heart racing beneath her chest. She’s waiting for you to speak again, to tell her what she needs to do next.

You whisper, “Good girl.”

Her shoulders finally relax, just a little, but her gaze stays locked on yours, like she’s trying to read your mind.

You stand, dragging her with you, pulling her close enough so she can feel the heat of your body against hers. You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, leaning in just slightly, letting your lips brush against her temple.

“You’re mine, Ellie,” you murmur, low and quiet, just for her. “Always have been.”

Ellie doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. You both know the truth.

You take a step back, letting her breathe, but you don’t go far. She follows your every movement with her eyes, like she’s afraid to miss something.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you add, just to remind her.

The relief in her eyes is unmistakable. She’s not sure what you want from her, but she knows she’ll give it.

And that’s exactly how you like it.

Ellie is still looking at you like that—like you hung the damn moon, like she’ll do anything to keep you happy, like she wants to be owned.

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? She doesn’t fight it. She never has.

You’re still close, her hands limp in yours, like she’s waiting for you to decide what happens next. Always waiting on you.

And maybe—maybe you should remind her why.

You hum softly, tilting your head. “What’s on your mind, baby?”

Ellie swallows, her jaw clenching slightly. She looks down, and you know—you know—she’s trying to gather herself, trying to figure out how to put her thoughts into words.

She never gets the chance.

You lift a hand to her chin, gently tilting her face back up to you. “Ellie.”

Your voice is softer now, coaxing.

She meets your eyes, and for a second, she’s just staring—like she’s trying to memorize you, trying to understand what you want from her.

You let the moment stretch, let the silence settle heavy between you, before you speak again.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?”

It’s not really a question. You both know the answer.

Ellie’s breath shudders, and she nods.

You tighten your grip on her chin, just slightly. “Words.”

She exhales shakily. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “I’m yours.”

A slow smile spreads across your lips.

Good girl.

You don’t give her time to think—you move before she can, leaning in, closing the space between you. You kiss her like she belongs to you, like you need her to understand it.

And fuck—Ellie melts.

She lets out the smallest noise against your lips, her hands gripping at your waist, like she’s afraid you’ll pull away too soon. You don’t. You press in closer, one hand slipping into her hair, tugging just enough to make her whimper.

She’s so easy for you. So desperate.

You deepen the kiss, swallowing the tiny gasps she makes, reveling in the way she’s already pliant, already giving you everything you want without hesitation.

When you finally pull away, Ellie is breathless, flushed, her lips red and swollen. Her eyes stay locked on yours, wide and dazed, like she still hasn’t caught up to what just happened.

You grin, dragging your thumb over her bottom lip. “Still thinking?”

Ellie swallows hard. “Not really.”

You laugh softly, pressing another kiss to her cheek, then to her jaw, just because you can. Because she lets you.

Because she’s yours.

February 9th, Evening.

The party is loud, but not loud enough to drown out the hum of conversations, the clinking of drinks, the occasional burst of laughter from the kitchen. The air smells like cheap beer and something vaguely sweet—someone must’ve brought those shitty fruit-flavored vape pens everyone’s been obsessed with.

You barely notice any of it.

Abby fucking Anderson is pressed against you, arms wrapped lazily around your waist, her lips brushing against your neck every now and then. She’s warm, solid—her grip firm, like she knows she can have you if she wants. And maybe she can.

You let her hold you. Let her lean in close as you talk to—Sierra? Sidney? Whatever-the-fuck-her-name-is. The host, too busy with the party to care that Abby’s hands are sliding lower, her fingers digging into your hips.

You smirk, amused.

Abby’s been flirting with you all night, making it obvious, shameless. She’s charming, in a way that comes easy—cocky but not overbearing, confident in the way that only someone who’s used to winning can be. The way she looks at you makes it clear she knows she could have you. That if she tried a little harder, pushed just a little more—

And then you see her.

Ellie.

Tucked away in the corner, half-hidden behind the couch, talking to some girl you don’t recognize.

Fidgeting.

Nervous.

Almost… blushing?

Your stomach tightens.

She doesn’t see you watching her, too focused on whatever the girl is saying, nodding along, lips twitching into an awkward little smile.

And suddenly, Abby’s touch doesn’t feel as interesting anymore.

Your jaw clenches, fingers curling slightly at your sides.

Ellie looks—fuck, she looks comfortable. Like she’s not thinking about you. Like she’s not waiting for you to notice her. Like she’s—

No.

You pull away from Abby, ignoring the way she raises an eyebrow at you. Your drink is still in your hand, but you barely register it, your focus narrowing in on Ellie, on the way she shifts her weight from foot to foot, playing with the rings on her fingers, nodding along to whatever the girl is saying.

Like you aren’t even here.

Like she’s forgetting who she belongs to.

That won’t do.

That won’t do at all.

“I’ll be back,” you murmur, already taking a step away.

Abby scoffs, clearly unimpressed. “Where are you even—”

You don’t let her finish. “Relax, Anderson,” you say, turning to glance at her over your shoulder. “Go find someone else to grope.”

She huffs a laugh, shaking her head, but she doesn’t stop you. She knows better than to push when you’ve already lost interest.

Your heels click against the floor as you make your way to Ellie, purposeful, sharp. The girl she’s talking to—Dina, apparently—is still speaking, something animated, something that has Ellie nodding, shifting from foot to foot like she’s actually engaged in the conversation.

How cute.

You don’t even hesitate.

“Oh, there you are,” you drawl, stepping into their space without so much as a second thought. You barely glance at Dina, eyes locked on Ellie. “Didn’t realize you wandered off. Got bored of waiting for me, baby?”

Ellie stiffens, her hand twitching at her side. “I—”

“She doesn’t have to wait for you.”

Dina cuts in, arms crossed, glaring up at you like she actually thinks she has a say in this. You raise an eyebrow, finally sparing her a proper look.

Excuse me?

Ellie shifts beside her, awkward, rubbing the back of her neck.

Dina scoffs. “Do you just—let her talk to you like that?” She turns to Ellie fully, disbelief written all over her face. “Like, seriously? You just let her push you around?”

You tilt your head, watching Ellie, waiting.

She knows what to do.

And of course—your good girl never disappoints.

Ellie scratches her cheek, glancing between the two of you, and then—she shrugs. “It’s not—” She hesitates. “It’s not really like that.”

Dina’s expression darkens, her frown deepening. “It kinda is like that, Ellie.”

Your patience thins.

Your lips curl into something amused, something condescending, as you step just a little closer, tilting your head at Dina like she’s a fucking pest.

“Who even is this skank?”

Ellie flinches. Dina’s expression twists.

You smile.

Ellie clears her throat, glancing at Dina apologetically before mumbling, “Uh—this is Dina. She’s a—uh, she’s a scholar.”

You barely blink. “Cool.” You turn back to Ellie, gaze dark. “We need to talk.”

Ellie swallows hard. “I—”

You grab her wrist, firm, but not rough. Not yet. “Now.”

Ellie hesitates for a moment, but then—then she nods, letting you pull her along without protest.

Good girl.

You don’t even look back at Dina as you lead Ellie down the hall, pushing open the first unlocked door you find—a bathroom, small and dimly lit.

Perfect.

You shove Ellie inside, stepping in after her, closing the door with a sharp click.

She shifts on her feet, rubbing her arm, looking at you like she knows exactly what’s coming.

Smart girl.

You cross your arms, gaze hard. “What the fuck was that?”

Ellie shifts under your gaze, fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie, avoiding eye contact like she’s some fucking schoolgirl getting scolded.

You step closer.

She tenses.

“Since when do you wander off?” you ask, voice sharp. It’s not loud—doesn’t need to be—but it’s firm, edged with something that makes Ellie shrink a little, pressing her back against the sink.

She swallows. “I—I didn’t mean to, I just—”

“You just what?”

She flinches at the bite in your tone.

Your head tilts, arms crossed, waiting.

Ellie exhales, rubbing at her jaw. “I had to use the bathroom,” she mumbles. “And then—uh—Dina was outside, and we just… started talking.”

Your jaw clenches.

She’s never done this before. Never just drifted away from you. Usually, at these parties, she stays put—sits in the corner, waits, watches, like a good girl. Until you decide you’re done with everyone else. Until you tell her it’s time to go.

But this?

This won’t do.

You scoff. “And what, you forgot about me?”

Ellie’s head snaps up, eyes wide. “No! I—I didn’t forget, I was just—”

You take another step, crowding her against the sink.

She shuts up immediately.

Good.

Your fingers lift to her chin, tilting her face up, forcing her to look at you. Her pupils are blown wide, lips parting slightly, breath shaky.

You hum, fingers tracing along her jaw, light, teasing. “You know better, don’t you, baby?”

She nods quickly, eyes never leaving yours. “Yeah,” she breathes.

Your grip tightens just slightly. Not enough to hurt—just enough to remind.

“Say it,” you murmur.

Ellie swallows, cheeks flushed. “I—I know better.”

You smile. “That’s my good girl.”

But she still needs to learn.

Ellie barely has time to react before you push her back, hands firm on her hips, guiding her onto the edge of the sink. Her breath stutters, hands gripping the porcelain as she looks at you—wide-eyed, confused.

“W-What—”

You drop to your knees in front of her.

Ellie freezes.

Her fingers twitch against the sink, chest rising and falling a little too fast, a little too shallow. She swallows hard, staring down at you like she can’t quite process what’s happening.

You tilt your head, running your hands up her thighs, slow, teasing. “You need to learn, don’t you, baby?”

Ellie nods automatically, like it’s instinct.

You smirk. “Then let me teach you.”

Your hands find the edge of her pants, you tug it slightly

“Take it Off.”

She hesitates, eyes flickering between yours, searching—maybe for reassurance, maybe for a way out. As if she doesn’t already know there isn’t one. As if she doesn’t already belong to you.

You don’t say anything. You don’t need to.

Your gaze stays firm, unwavering, expectant.

Ellie exhales sharply, hands hovering at the waistband of her jeans, fingers gripping the fabric like she’s still weighing her options. But you both know there’s only one.

Slowly, she complies.

She was wearing some black and grey boxers, you smile as you watch her. “Those come off too, Ellie.”

Ellie's face burns as she looks down at you, her hands trembling slightly as she reaches for the waistband of her boxers. She hesitates for a moment, before pulling them down her legs and stepping out of them.

Her breath comes in short, nervous bursts as she watches you, wondering what you'll do next. Her thighs are clenched together, as if trying to hide herself, though she knows it's pointless.

“Legs open, baby”

"Mhm," Ellie moans softly as she spreads her legs wider, gripping the edge of the sink tighter. Her cheeks are stained red, eyes watching you carefully. She's fully exposed now - her bare pussy on display, wetness already gathering at her entrance.

You lean in close, breath ghosting over her skin, With one hand, you gather your hair, twisting it up into a makeshift ponytail. Then, without a word, you reach for Ellie’s wrist, guiding her trembling fingers to take over.

Her breath catches.

She doesn’t need you to say it. She knows exactly what you want.

And she obeys.

Ellie's fingers curl around the base of your ponytail, her grip tentative at first, before tightening as she becomes more confident. She pulls your head forward, guiding your face towards her dripping wet pussy. "Oh god," she whispers, her voice shaking.

You bury your face between Ellie's thighs, your tongue diving straight into her slick folds. She cries out, fingers tightening in your hair as she rocks her hips forward, seeking more contact. Your tongue laps at her clit, swirling around the sensitive bud before sucking it into your mouth.

Ellie's moans grow louder as you expertly work her clit, her hips rolling desperately against your face. Wetness coats your chin as her juices flow freely. One hand grips your hair tighter, while the other covers her mouth to muffle her increasingly shameless noises.

You slip a finger inside her, then another, curling them just right to hit that spot that makes her see stars. Ellie's legs shake as she grinds down onto your hand and mouth, chasing her release. She bites down hard on her lip, trying not to scream as the pleasure builds and builds.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuck..." her words come out as whispers between gasps, her hips moving in small, desperate circles against your face. She can feel her orgasm approaching, her body tensing. Her legs threaten to give out completely as you ravage her. "I'm gonna…”

But then—just as she starts to tremble—you pull away.

Ellie barely has time to react before you wipe the liquid from your mouth with the back of your hand, a slow, deliberate motion that makes her breath hitch. Her hand still lingers in your hair until you slap it away, standing back up like nothing happened.

She just looks at you. Panting. Pleading.

Why the fuck did you stop?

The question is written all over her face—eyes blown wide, lips slightly parted, body still tense, waiting.

You just smile, tilting your head as you run a teasing finger along her flushed cheek.

“Maybe next time,” you murmur, voice dripping with amusement. Then, leaning in just enough for her to feel your breath against her ear—

“When you didn’t piss me off.”

Ellie swallows hard, gripping the edge of the sink like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.

Let her stay like that. Let her ache for it.

February 13, Morning

The café is warm, filled with the quiet hum of conversation, the clinking of cups against saucers, the rhythmic tapping of your fingers against your laptop’s keyboard. Outside, the sky is overcast, a dull gray that matches your mood.

You sip your coffee, glancing at the time. Ellie’s late.

She always is.

But eventually, the door chimes, and there she is—messy auburn hair tucked under a beanie, hands stuffed in her pockets, hoodie slightly oversized on her frame. She spots you, and something flickers in her expression, something unreadable, before she makes her way over.

“Hey,” she says, dropping into the seat across from you, rubbing her palms together like she’s cold.

“Hey,” you echo, closing your laptop. She smells like cigarettes and cheap cologne, like she just came from somewhere she doesn’t want you asking about. But you don’t press—yet.

Things feel normal. Like you didn’t have your lips on her five days ago. Like you didn’t have her trembling for you in some grimy bathroom four days ago.

You talk about nothing for a while, easy, effortless. Then, casually, you ask—

“So, what are we doing tomorrow?”

Ellie freezes mid-sip, eyes darting up to yours like she just got caught in a lie she hadn’t even told yet.

You laugh, light, amused. “What? Did you forget?”

She swallows, scratches the back of her neck. “Uh. No. I mean, kinda. I just—”

Your amusement fades. “Spit it out, Ellie.”

She shifts in her seat. “Dina and some of the guys invited me to hang.”

Silence.

You blink, tilting your head. “And you agreed?”

Ellie exhales, looking away. “I figured you’d be on a date or something.”

You stare at her.

A date.

The sheer audacity makes your jaw clench, fingers tightening around your coffee cup. Since when have you ever done that? Since when have you ever let some guy take you out on Valentine’s instead of spending time with her?

Ellie finally looks back at you, realization dawning in her eyes as she sees the irritation brewing in yours.

“Are you serious?” you ask, voice calm, even, but sharp.

Ellie doesn’t answer. Because she already knows.

Ellie, ever the nervous wreck, tries to salvage it.

“I mean, I—I’ll still come over,” she says quickly. “After. We can hang in the evening.”

You just stare at her.

She’s squirming in her seat, fidgeting with her rings, eyes darting between you and the scratched-up wooden table like she’s waiting for your verdict. Like she knows she fucked up and is just hoping you won’t punish her for it.

You lean back in your chair, arms crossed. Then you scoff, shaking your head. “Wow. Lucky me.”

Ellie flinches, the tips of her ears going red. She doesn’t say anything. Of course she doesn’t.

Because she knows—knows—that whatever you say, she’ll do it. You’re already in her head, buried under her skin, wrapped around her ribs like something vital, something she can’t scrape out no matter how hard she tries.

But that doesn’t mean you’ll let this slide.

Your phone is already in your hand before Ellie can say anything else. You don’t even hesitate. If she’s spending time with other people, then so are you.

You scroll through your messages until you find her name.

Abby Anderson.

She replies within minutes. A smug, easy response

Abby : "Thought you weren’t interested."

You smirk.

You : "Changed my mind."

Ellie shifts in her seat, oblivious, still trying to figure out how much trouble she’s in.

Who the fuck does she think she is?

February 14, Valentines

You stare at yourself in the mirror, tilting your head slightly as you smooth out the fabric of your dress. It hugs your body in all the right ways, accentuating everything that Abby will no doubt appreciate.

Abby wasn’t a bad choice. Smart, jacked, and disgustingly wealthy. You knew this date wouldn’t disappoint. She wouldn’t disappoint.

But as you swipe a final coat of lipstick on, as you spritz perfume over your collarbone, as you slide on your heels—your mind isn’t on Abby at all.

It’s on Ellie.

On the fact that she texted you an hour ago— On my way. —like she wanted you to acknowledge it. Like she expected you to care.

You didn’t even respond. Just left her on read.

Because you wanted her anxious. Wanted her restless the whole day. Wanted her checking her phone every five minutes, heart pounding every time the screen lit up, only to be met with silence. You wanted her thinking about you.

But now, as you grab your bag and slip your phone inside, something bitter creeps into your chest.

She’s out there. With them.

Laughing at something Dina says. Maybe fidgeting, maybe stammering, maybe blushing.

You inhale sharply, roll your shoulders back, shake the thought off. It doesn’t matter.

Tonight will be perfect.

Abby will make sure of it.

…But will you?

The restaurant Abby picked was perfect—fancy but not showy. Dim lighting, soft jazz playing in the background, a bottle of wine already chilling at the table before you even sat down. She had everything planned, down to the smallest details.

She picked you up in an expensive car, a sleek black Audi with leather seats that smelled brand new. The kind of car you knew she could replace in a heartbeat without a second thought. She even stepped out to open the door for you, the perfect gentleman.

You posted pictures on your story—subtle flexes. The perfectly plated steak, the candlelit ambiance, the empty wine glasses. But most of them were of you—Abby had taken them, of course. She had an eye for it. The angle just right, your features highlighted in the soft golden light.

And Abby… Abby was undeniably perfect.

She knew exactly what to say, when to say it. Knew how to touch you in ways that made your skin warm and your heart beat just a little faster. Her lips brushed against your neck at just the right moment, her fingers grazing your knee under the table in just the right way.

Nothing could ruin this.

Nothing.

At least, that’s what you thought.

But when Abby excused herself—standing with that easy confidence, telling you she’d be right back, that she had another present for you—you pulled out your phone. Just to check. Just to see.

And there it was.

A story.

Ellie.

Drinking.

With Dina.

Some ginger-haired bitch sitting on her lap.

Your grip on your phone tightens.

Your jaw clenches.

Everything else—the restaurant, the wine, the warmth of Abby’s touch—fades into the background.

Ellie doesn’t drink. Not unless she’s nervous, or desperate, or being stupid.

And that girl—who the fuck is she? What the fuck is she doing in Ellie’s lap?

Abby’s voice startles you out of your thoughts.

“Miss me?” she teases, placing a small, elegantly wrapped box on the table.

You glance up at her, then back at your phone.

Your mood has already shifted.

And now, you need a drink.

Abby’s hands were firm on your waist, her grip possessive in a way that most girls would melt under. Her lips moved against yours with purpose, her confidence unwavering—like she knew exactly how this was going to go. Like she was sure you were going to let her in.

Your arms were draped over her broad shoulders, fingers lazily playing with the soft strands of her hair as you deepened the kiss. The night had been perfect. She had been perfect. A bouquet of flowers so big it barely fit in your arms, a new pair of designer heels that she had practically forced you to accept, and an expensive necklace that still sat around your throat, cool against your flushed skin.

Abby made it easy. She never made you wait, never made you feel like you had to chase her, never made you question your place.

So why the fuck were you thinking about Ellie?

Her stupid nervous fidgeting. The way her knee bounced when she was anxious. The way her voice cracked sometimes when she tried to talk back. The way she looked up at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

The way she had someone else on her lap.

Your nails dug into Abby’s shoulders, and she let out a small, amused hum against your lips, mistaking your sudden aggression for passion.

“You’re on me tonight, huh?” she teased, smirking as she pulled back slightly, her fingers slipping beneath the hem of your dress.

You should be focused on this. On her. On the way she looked at you like she knew she could have you.

But instead, your phone buzzed.

And you—like a fucking idiot—glanced at the screen over Abby’s shoulder.

Ellie.

“I’m outside. Let me in.”

Your breath hitched.

Abby noticed.

Your fingers tightened in her hair, lips ghosting over hers, but suddenly the air had changed. The control had slipped for just a moment.

And now, you had a choice to make.

You shifted in Abby’s lap, her hands gripping your waist instinctively, like she didn’t want you to move. Her lips were hot against your neck, trailing down, hands sliding over your thighs, her touch deliberate.

Then your phone buzzed again.

You glanced at it, saw the name on the screen, and immediately pushed yourself off Abby, standing up like nothing had happened. She looked up at you, brows furrowed.

"You good?" she asked, voice thick with something unspoken.

"Yeah," you said, brushing your hair back, fixing the straps of your dress like she hadn’t just had her hands all over you. "That was my mom."

Abby’s eyes flickered with something skeptical. "Your mom?"

Your heels clicked against the floor as you stepped out of Abby’s car, your arms full of gifts—flowers, designer shoes, jewelry, all things that screamed that you were wanted. Abby leaned against the doorframe of her car, arms crossed over her broad chest, watching you with an expression that teetered between amusement and frustration.

"You sure you don’t want me to take you upstairs?" she asked, her voice smooth, calculated. She knew what she was doing, giving you one last chance to let her in.

You smiled, soft but firm. "I’ll text you."

She held your gaze for a moment longer, like she was trying to see if you were bullshitting her, but ultimately, she nodded. "Alright," she murmured. One last time, she stepped forward, pulling you in, pressing a kiss to your lips—slow, deliberate. Like a silent reminder that she had been here first tonight.

You let her, even smiled against her lips, before pulling away and wiping the smudged lipstick from her face.

"Goodnight, Abby," you said, voice sweet, final.

You turned on your heel, the weight of her gaze burning into your back as you made your way into the building, clutching the expensive gifts she had given you like they meant something.

But by the time you reached your door, all of it—the necklace, the shoes, the flowers—felt heavy. Unimportant.

Because Ellie was here.

Waiting.

Just like she always did.

You saw her tuck her phone away, her gaze flickering over the gifts in your arms—the bouquet, the neatly wrapped designer bags, the weight of the night still lingering on your skin.

Then, you watched as it clicked.

Ellie’s jaw tightened just slightly. "You were on a date."

It wasn’t a question.

You just hummed, shifting the weight in your arms. She stepped forward, reaching out. "Here, let me take those."

You didn’t argue, handing her the heavy bouquet first. When you leaned in to pass it to her, your perfume mixed with the faint traces of expensive cologne clinging to your skin. Ellie inhaled instinctively.

And there it was.

Familiar, but not yours.

She knew that scent.

Abigail Anderson.

You ignored the way her fingers twitched when she took the bouquet from you, brushing past her as you unlocked the door. "Just leave it on the coffee table," you murmured, voice light, like this was any other night.

She did as you said, but you could feel the weight of her stare the whole time.

You walked into your room, slipping off your heels. Ellie followed, wordlessly taking a seat on your bed as you went to your vanity. You caught her gaze in the mirror—steady, sharp, calculating.

You started getting unready, removing your earrings first.

"Soo..." she finally spoke, her voice low, unreadable. "You were with... Abby?"

You saw the way her hands curled into the sheets at her sides. The way she tried to keep her voice casual.

You smirked.

This was going to be fun.

"Yeah, I figured if I was gonna spend Valentine’s with anyone, it should be her..."

Your voice was smooth, deliberate—each word sharpened just enough to cut. Like Abby was the only one who deserved your time. Like you hadn't even considered spending it with Ellie.

Why should you? It wasn’t your fault she had other plans. She blew you off first. She chose to be at some party, surrounded by people who weren’t you. Chose to let some girl—some nobody—sit on her lap like she belonged there.

Ellie doesn’t say anything at first. You see the way she tenses, fingers curling against the hem of her hoodie. Her knee bounces, jaw clenched like she’s trying to keep herself together, trying to be unaffected. But then she huffs out a breath, all forced nonchalance, and leans back on her palms.

"Right," she mutters, nodding slightly, like she’s convincing herself more than responding to you. "Makes sense. She’s, like... perfect, huh?"

There’s something in her voice that makes you pause—something bitter, something jealous. And it satisfies you.

ou unclip your earrings, dropping them onto the vanity with a soft clink. "Well, yeah," you say simply. "She knows exactly what to do, what to say... how to treat me."

Ellie’s jaw tightens.

You smirk at her reflection in the mirror. That got to her.

"She bought me all this, by the way." You gesture lazily to the designer shoes, the necklace glinting under the light, the massive bouquet sitting on your coffee table. "Really went all out. I mean, not that I’m surprised."

Ellie swallows, looking away. Her fingers fidget in her lap, picking at a loose thread on her hoodie.

"So," she starts, voice quieter now, "you had a good time, then?"

You twist your lip in amusement, watching her through the mirror. "I did."

Ellie nods again, but she doesn’t look convinced. She’s avoiding your gaze now, staring hard at the floor, at the carpet, at anything but you.

Good. Let her wallow in it. Let her sit in the weight of it, in the consequences of her choices.

You turn around, arms crossing over your chest as you lean against the vanity. "Why do you care?" you ask, tilting your head, studying her.

Ellie flinches, just slightly. She lifts her head, and for a second, she looks like she’s going to deny it—going to say something sarcastic, something dismissive. But then her lips press into a thin line, and instead, she lets out a shaky breath.

"I don’t," she lies.

You smile. "Good."

The room was quiet now. Too quiet. The only sound was the soft rustling of fabric as you moved, slipping off your necklace, tossing it onto the nightstand. The weight of the night clung to the air, thick and heavy, pressing down on both of you.

Ellie hadn’t moved from her spot at the edge of your bed, shoulders hunched, fingers tangled together in her lap. She was stiff, tense, like she was forcing herself not to look at you.

And maybe she was.

You were down to just your underwear, skin bare under the warm glow of your bedside lamp. You stood up, moving across the room with slow, deliberate steps, grabbing an oversized shirt from your drawer and tugging it over your head.

When you flopped back onto the bed, right next to where she was sitting, you felt her shift. Barely. Just the tiniest movement, like she was reacting to your closeness without meaning to.

You turned your head, looking at her. She was staring at her hands now, knuckles white where they gripped the edge of your comforter.

You smirked.

"What?" you drawled.

Ellie shook her head. "Nothing."

"Liar."

She exhaled, long and slow, like she was trying to collect herself. Her knee bounced again, her nervous energy filling the space between you.

You rolled onto your side, propping yourself up on your elbow. "You mad?"

Ellie scoffed, finally looking at you. "Why the fuck would I be mad?"

You hummed, tilting your head. "I don’t know. Maybe ‘cause I spent Valentine’s with someone else?"

Her jaw clenched. There it was again—that flicker of something, jealousy twisting its way across her face before she could shove it down.

You smiled, slow and smug.

"I mean," you continued, drawing out your words, "you were so busy today, after all. Out with Dina, drinking, letting some random girl sit on your lap—"

"She wasn’t—" Ellie groaned, running a hand down her face. "Jesus, are you serious right now?"

You shrugged. "Just calling it like I see it."

Ellie looked at you then, really looked at you, green eyes sharp and searching. The tension between you both was suffocating, crackling like a live wire, like a fire waiting to ignite.

And then—

She reached out, fingers brushing against your thigh, just barely, just enough to make you aware of the heat in her touch.

You inhaled sharply.

Ellie smirked this time, tilting her head as her fingers lingered. "You don’t actually think I give a shit about Abby—do you?"

You laughed. Not loud—just a quiet, amused little chuckle under your breath. Like the thought of Ellie even comparing herself to Abby was so ridiculous, it was funny.

"God," you sighed, shaking your head, still smirking. "You’re so fucking stupid sometimes."

Ellie frowned but didn’t argue.

"Lay down," you told her.

She hesitated, like she wasn’t sure if she should, but then she did—slowly easing onto her back, staring up at the ceiling like it would give her answers.

You turned onto your side, elbow sinking into the mattress, head propped up on your hand as you looked at her. Studied her.

"You really think I would’ve picked her over you?" you murmured, dragging the words out, letting them settle.

Ellie tensed.

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head. "Wow. And here I was, thinking you knew me better than that."

She swallowed, her throat bobbing. Her hands fisted the hem of her hoodie, gripping the fabric like she needed something to hold onto.

"I mean, I guess I did have a nice time," you continued, voice featherlight, tipping closer to her. "The restaurant was beautiful. Expensive as hell. Abby’s just so... put together, you know?"

Ellie’s jaw clenched.

"And she was so sweet. Got me all these gifts, picked out the prettiest necklace—"

You reached up, dragging your fingers lightly across your collarbone where the necklace should be. You knew she was looking.

"And God, she was so..." You trailed off, exhaling a small, pleased hum. "Perfect."

Ellie inhaled sharply through her nose.

You smirked. Got her.

"But I guess you don’t care, huh?" you added, faux-disappointed. "You were too busy with Dina and your little party. Guess I was just supposed to sit around and wait for you?"

Ellie’s brows pinched. She turned her head toward you, finally meeting your eyes, guilt flickering behind the green.

You just blinked at her, expression unreadable. Waiting.

She swallowed. "I—"

"No, it’s fine." You exhaled through your nose, like you had just made peace with something disappointing. "I mean, if you don’t care, you don’t care. I won’t force you to."

Ellie flinched. "I— That’s not what I—"

You shook your head, shifting onto your back, staring at the ceiling now too. "Forget it, Ellie. Just forget it."

Silence.

Heavy. Suffocating.

Ellie stared at you, at the way your face was turned away from her now, at the way you had just shut her out.

She hated it.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Ellie didn’t move, didn’t say anything. You could feel her eyes on you, like she wanted to say something but didn’t know if she was allowed to.

Good. She should feel that way.

You sighed, shaking your head like you were just so disappointed in her. Then, before she could even react, you shifted—climbing over her, straddling her waist, pressing her into the mattress.

Ellie’s breath hitched. Her hands twitched at her sides, like she wanted to grab your hips but knew better.

"God," you murmured, staring down at her, fingers dragging up her chest, curling into the fabric of her hoodie. "You’re such an idiot."

Ellie swallowed hard. "I—"

"You didn’t even think to ask me what I was doing on Valentine's?" you cut her off, tilting your head, voice low and sharp. "Just assumed I’d be off on some date like some desperate little bitch? Like I don’t always spend that day with you?"

Ellie flinched. "No— I—I just thought—"

"Yeah, I know what you thought," you spat. "You thought you could ditch me, spend your night with Dina and whoever the fuck else, and I’d just sit around and wait for you?"

Ellie looked away. "I didn’t mean—"

"Shut up," you hissed.

She did.

You leaned in, your breath ghosting over her lips, your fingers tightening around her hoodie. Her hands clenched into fists against the sheets, body completely tense beneath you.

"I bet you didn’t even care what I was doing," you murmured, voice laced with venom. "Didn’t even think about me while you were at that party, huh?"

Ellie’s breath came out shaky, her eyes flickering up to meet yours. "I did," she whispered.

You scoffed. "Oh yeah? That’s why you had some bitch on your lap, right?"

Ellie squeezed her eyes shut. "That wasn’t—"

"You’re so fucking selfish," you continued, fingers dragging down her chest, over her stomach, stopping just above her belt. "You get to go off, do whatever you want, and I’m just supposed to sit around and be fine with it?"

Ellie was breathing heavier now, chest rising and falling beneath you, her hands twitching against the sheets. She wanted to say something. You could tell.

But she didn’t.

Because you were right.

You tilted your head, your fingers curling around the collar of her hoodie, yanking her attention back to you.

“What happened, Ellie, huh?” Your voice was smooth, dripping like honey but firm, unwavering. "You're mine."

Ellie stayed silent, staring up at you like you were something holy, something dangerous.

"Are you fucking stupid, or did you forget?" You dragged your nails up her jaw, tilting her chin up, making her look at you.

Her lips parted slightly, chest rising and falling like she was struggling to breathe.

She didn’t answer. Of course she didn’t. What could she even say? That she knew she fucked up? That she knew you had every right to be mad? That she hated the thought of you with Abby, hated that you went on a date, hated that you let her kiss you?

Ellie was selfish like that. Always was.

She just kept staring at you, eyes dark, full of something between guilt and desperation.

And you smirked, because of course she wasn’t going to fight you on this.

Then, slowly, you leaned down.

Her breath hitched the second your lips brushed against hers, barely even touching before she was already reacting—lifting her head to chase your mouth, hands twitching like she wanted to grab you but knew she wasn’t allowed to.

You let her suffer for a second, just hovering, letting your breath tease her, watching her fall apart before you even gave her anything.

Then, finally, you kissed her.

Ellie let out this soft, broken sound—something between a whimper and a sigh—like she’d been holding her breath since the moment you climbed on top of her.

She kissed you back instantly, desperate, needy, like she had something to prove, like she was trying to apologize without saying a single word.

But you weren’t gonna make it easy for her.

You pulled back just as quick, barely giving her a second of relief before you were already ripping it away.

Ellie’s lips were parted, her breath uneven, pupils blown as she stared up at you, dazed, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to move or if she had to wait for you to give her permission.

God, she was so fucking easy.

You pulled back completely, watching the way Ellie instinctively followed, like she wanted to chase after you but forced herself to stay put.

Then, without a word, you climbed off her, settling beside her on the bed. You didn’t look at her at first, just leaning back on your hands, legs crossed at the ankles, letting the silence stretch long enough for her to start squirming.

Ellie stayed on her back, still staring at the ceiling, but you could see her hands gripping the sheets, her knuckles going white.

Then you finally spoke.

"You’re gonna make it up to me."

Ellie stiffened. Her head slowly turned to you, eyes flicking over your face, searching for something—anger, maybe, or some kind of mercy—but all you had was that same unreadable smirk.

You tilted your head, watching her. "You do wanna make it up to me, don’t you?"

Ellie nodded instantly, sitting up slightly. "Yeah. Of course."

You smiled, pleased.

"Good," you said, voice smooth, tapping your fingers against your thigh. "Then listen carefully."

Ellie looked wrecked. Like she wanted to say something, like she wanted to explain, but she knew better than to try. Knew better than to test you when you were like this.

"You ruined this day for me, Ellie. You hear me?" Your voice was steady, sharp. "God. You had fun without me? Let some girl sit on your lap that wasn’t me?" You scoffed, shaking your head like the thought alone was disgusting.

Ellie flinched, her fingers gripping the hem of her shirt. "No—"

"And best of all," you interrupted, leaning in, "you came to my door, right when I was gonna let Abby in." You tilted your head, watching the way Ellie’s face froze. You let that sink in before delivering the final blow. "Let her have me."

You were lying, of course. But she didn’t need to know that.

Ellie’s breathing had gone shallow, her whole body stiff, jaw clenched. You could see the jealousy rising in her, the way her hands twitched like she didn’t know what to do with them.

"So," you continued, calm, tilting her chin up with your fingers so she’d look at you, so she’d really understand. "You’re gonna make up for all that. Do you get it?"

Ellie swallowed hard, her throat bobbing, and nodded. "Yeah," she rasped, voice barely above a whisper. "I get it."

She watches as you sit up, lifting your hips to remove your panties. She swallows hard, waiting for you.

Ellie barely had time to react before you shifted, grabbing onto the headboard as you moved, positioning yourself just above her face.

Her breath hitched, her hands gripping at the sheets like she was waiting for permission—waiting for you to tell her what to do.

"You want to make it up to me, right?" Your voice was teasing, low, but there was no room for argument.

Ellie nodded, her pupils blown wide as she looked up at you, desperate, waiting.

"Then do it."

As you move into position and take off your shirt and bra, straddling her face with your bare pussy hovering just above her mouth, Ellie's heart races. She looks up at you, her hands slowly reach up, grasping your hips gently.

That's your good girl.

Your hips begin to move, rolling and grinding against Ellie's mouth. She grips your hips tighter, spreading her legs wider beneath you. She sticks her tongue out, catching your clit with the tip. You moan softly, riding her face faster. She hums softly, taking your movements like a champ.

Ellie's fingers dig into your hips possessively as you bounce on her face. Wet noises fill the room - your pussy smacking against her mouth, her sloppy suction sounds. She sticks her tongue deep inside you, making you moan loudly.

You can feel her nose pressing against your clit with every downward thrust. The angle lets you grind harder against her tongue, chasing your orgasm. She looks up at you with glazed, fuck-drunk eyes, completely devoted to pleasuring you. Just like how it should be.

You loved her like this—obedient, eager, desperate to please. Making you feel better, making you feel good—she fucking should.

She was yours. And after that shit she pulled today, God, it was only right for her to make it up to you.

Her hands gripped your thighs like she was holding on for dear life, her breath hot against your skin, her eyes locked onto you like you were the only thing that mattered. And you were.

“Better make this count, Ellie,” you murmured, voice dripping with satisfaction, threading your fingers into her hair, tugging just enough to make her whimper.

“Because I’m still so fucking mad at you.”

Your movements become more erratic as you near the edge. Ellie's fingers flex against your hips, helping to support you as you ride her face with abandon. She can feel you getting closer, your pussy clenching around her tongue. She doubles her efforts, determined to make you come undone.

You throw your head back, arching your back as you reach the peak. Ellie opens her mouth wider, catching your release as it gushes out. She swallows hungrily, trying to drink every drop as you shudder and tremble above her. "Mmmphhh…”

You slowly come down from your high, your pussy still twitching as the last waves of your orgasm subside. Ellie keeps her mouth pressed against your folds, licking up every bit of your juices. Finally, she pulls away, her lips shiny and glistening.

"Good girl, but we're not done yet baby”

She looks up at you, doe eyed. A small amount of your juices drip down her chin. She licks her lips, swallowing the excess. She hummed, her voice soft and submissive, clearly eager to please you further.

Ellie obediently sits up, pulling her hoodie over her head and tossing it aside. She reveals her breasts. Crawling onto the bed, she positions herself above you, her knees straddling your hips.

She offers her hand to you, palm up. You spit into her palm, and she looks down at the saliva, then back up at you with a confused expression. You guide her fingers towards your center. She slowly inserts her fingers inside you, curling them upwards at your instruction.

As she fingers you, her other hand reaches up to play with her own breasts. She pinches and rolls her nipples between her fingers, a soft moan escaping her lips. Her hips start to rock slightly, grinding against your thigh. She's clearly getting turned on from pleasuring you.

You feel her fingers moving faster, more confidently inside you. She's learning quickly, hitting your spots just right. Her other hand leaves her breast to reach down, spreading your lips open so she can watch her fingers sliding in and out of your wet pussy.

You spread your legs wider, pushing your hips down to meet her fingers. "God yes," you moan softly. She watches your reactions closely, seeing your breasts rise and fall rapidly with your quickened breath. Her fingers curl again, making you buck your hips sharply. "Right there," you gasp.

Pressing hard and rubbing. "Jesus," you moan loudly, your back arching slightly. She sees how wet you're getting, how your body responds to her touch. She adds another finger, stretching you. Your inner thighs tighten, your heels dig into the mattress.

Ellie curls her fingers deeply inside you, her palm pressing firmly against your clit. Your eyes flutter closed, a breathy moan leaving your lips as you grind against her hand shamelessly. "So Beautiful," she whispers in awe, feeling your arousal coating her fingers.

She leans down, her face hovering over your breast. Without breaking eye contact, she sticks out her tongue, circling your nipple teasingly before sucking it into her mouth.

Her fingers move faster, hitting that perfect spot over and over while her palm maintains constant pressure on your clit. Your breasts heave with each laborious breath, legs trembling as another orgasm builds. "Oh fuck..." She notices your approaching climax and curls her fingers even deeper.

Watching your face contort with pleasure, she realizes how good she's become at pleasing you. Your moans get louder, more insistent…

With a choked gasp, you surrender to your climax, your pussy clamping down hard around Ellie's fingers. She continues to stroke you through your orgasm, prolonging every last shudder and twitch. As your release subsides, she slowly withdraws her fingers, bringing them to her mouth to lick clean.

Ellie swallowed, her lips still glossy, her eyes still blown wide as she looked up at you. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, trying to steady herself, but you weren’t going to let her think this was over.

“How was that?” she asked, voice raspier than usual, like she already knew the answer but needed to hear you say it.

You tilted your head, watching her carefully, dragging your fingers along her jaw, down her throat, feeling how she tensed under your touch.

“Better,” you admitted, your voice slow, teasing. Then you leaned in, close enough that your breath tickled her skin before you pulled back again, smirking.

“But don’t think I’ve already forgiven you.”

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munsonsmixtapes · 3 days ago

Text

The First One's Always Free

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

You go over to Eddie's to buy some weed after not seeing each other since high school. Old feelings arise and after smoking a joint together, you find yourselves tangled up in his sheets.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) reader and Eddie smoke a joint

You stand on the porch of Eddie’s trailer. You’re a nervous wreck, pacing back and forth on the little piece of wood you’re standing on, looking at your bike every time it comes into view. Why are you even there? It’s not like you’re going to buy. You have the money in your pocket but that doesn’t mean that you’re not scared. You’ve bought weed before, but never from someone you’ve been crushing on.

You hesitantly bring your hand up to knock and feel your hands shaking as you do so. You’re not so sure why you’re so nervous. Eddie is sweet. And really, the only reason you're here is because you have a little (massive) crush on him. He’s so different from what everyone says he is. He’s always been so kind to you, even going as far as inviting you to sit with him and his friends at lunch when you were in school.

But you haven’t seen him since high school so you’re not sure if he even sells anymore. You don’t even know why you’re still thinking about him since he probably forgot you even existed. That would make sense since you weren’t popular and only sat at his table a few times.

The door opens and the man on the other side of the door gasps at the sight of you. You take the time to take in how each of you have changed. Eddie’s wearing a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He’s now sporting a full beard and a nose ring. He’s aged like a fine wine and you can’t stop looking at him.

“Well, as I live and breathe,” he smiles, opening the door wider to invite you in. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since graduation.” He closes the door to the trailer, still in disbelief that you’re standing in his living room. His dream girl.

Eddie has been crushing on you since the first day you flashed that bright smile at him. Right then and there, he knew that he was going to fall in love with you. And he did. When you set your copy of the Lord of the Rings on the lunch table he just knew that you were perfect for each other. He wanted to ask you out, but back then, he was Eddie “the freak” Munson and didn’t think he had a shot. He’s hoping that maybe now he does.

“So, what are you doing here?” His tone is more curious than anything. He just wants to know why the prettiest girl in Hawkins is in his trailer. And you somehow got even prettier since the last time he saw you.

“Well, I don’t know if you’re still dealing, but I was wanting to buy.”

“Of course I still deal,” he scoffs. “Please. Come on and I’ll show you.” He nods his head towards his room and you hesitantly follow, still feeling shy as you do so.

You watch him go through his belongings in a quick manner. He eventually finds what he needs, a metal lunchbox that he rifles through, on the hunt for the joints he rolled earlier. He was planning on smoking them himself, but you’re a special customer, so he feels like you deserve them. Once he finds them, he sits down on the bed, patting the spot next to him.

You hesitantly sit on the bed, your thighs now touching because of your close proximity. You go to reach for the cash in your pocket, but he rests his hand on top of yours, shaking his head in response.

“First one’s always free,” he winks as he puts the bag into your hand, his fingertips brushing your palm. The two of you have never been this close before, your seats in the cafeteria preventing you from doing so. But now that you are, you can finally see just how pretty his brown eyes are. They’re even prettier than you remember.

“Oh, you don’t-”

“Just let me do something nice for you, alright?” He nudges your shoulder. “Think of it as a reunion gift.” Even if you had bought from him before, he’d still give it to you for free because he would feel bad for charging you.

“But I didn’t get anything.” You’re still as cute as he can remember and he just knows that you feel bad for not actually getting him anything. You’re so sweet that he swears that you’re going to give him a toothache.

“Then smoke this with me and we’ll call it even.” Oh, there’s no way you’re going to deny him. Especially not when he’s looking at you with those damn Bambi eyes. At this point, you’re sure that you’ll do anything he asks.

“Deal,” you nod and watch Eddie pull one of the joints from the bag. He hands it over to you and you part your lips, silently asking him to put it into your mouth for you. He catches on quickly and brings the joint to your lips, pushing the tip into your mouth and as your lips wrap around it, he wonders what they would look like wrapped around his-

“You got a light?” You ask, interrupting his train of thought.

“Y-yeah,” he responds and rushes over to his desk and grabs one of the many he’s got in his drawer before hurrying back. He lights up the joint and when you inhale then pull it from your lips to blow out the smoke, he swears that he’s in love. You look so hot and he doesn’t know why he can’t just make a move.

“Open,” you instruct and he does as you say as you put the joint between his lips, passing it off to him, your fingers brushing as he does so. You immediately wonder what his rough fingers would feel like inside you. You don’t know if it’s because of how attracted to him you still are or if it’s because you haven’t slept with anyone in a while and you’re just desperate.

The tension changes between the two of you, getting even more intense and sexual as the joint gets smaller. You’re now lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling as you talk about everything and nothing. But really, all you want right now is for him to have you in any way he wants. You want him to take you right here and just go to town.

But he won’t. You know he won’t because he’s nothing but a gentleman. At this point, though, you’ll take what you can get even if it is just a kiss. You just need something from him so badly but you’re too afraid to ask. You haven’t seen him in two years. How crazy is it going to seem if you ask him for a kiss?

You have no idea that Eddie wants the same. He wants you so badly that he’s trying so hard to hide his cock from you. He’s embarrassed by how hard he is because all he can think about is all the positions he wants to have you in.

He doesn’t know what he's doing, but as soon as the joint is finished as he disposes of it, he takes the chances and hovers over you, his pupils blown wide, a mixture of both how high he is and also how much he wants you.

“You’re so pretty,” he sighs looking down at you with that adorable smirk. His hand reaches up and his thumb slowly glides across your lips, his eyes watching them part as he does so. He dips it inside and your lips wrap around it, giving it a suck, a gasp falling from his own lips as he watches.

“Fuck,” he whines and you’re so wet now that you can feel it soaking your panties. You need him and you need him now. But you’re going to let this play out as long as you can, your eyes on his as you continue to suck on his thumb.

He’s losing his mind over it as he replaced his thumb with his pointer and middle fingers, watching you lick them, purposely making just the right noises to make him hard beyond belief.

Once he can’t take it anymore, he removes them as his mouth covers yours as he places himself on top of you. Your hands wind into his hair, giving it a tug that juxtaposes how gently and chaste the kiss is, your lips moving together slowly.

It’s awkward as you try to figure it out but you do quickly as his tongue swipes along your bottom lip and you open up, letting him inside. His hands slide underneath your shirt, rubbing up and down your waist slowly as your tongues move together.

He pushes your shirt up and it’s off and tosses to the side. Eddie leans up so he can get a good look at you. You suddenly feel self conscious since you didn’t wear one of your more sexy bras. But you didn’t know that this would happen.

Eddie’s eyes rake over your body and with him, you feel nothing but safe. You haven’t seen him in years but it’s like your bond is still there, that you’re still as close as you used to be. If only you had stayed in the state for college and hadn’t lost his information. You’re sure that that is your only regret.

He doesn’t seem to have any hard feelings, though as he looks like he wants to absolutely devour you. You’re taking off his shirt as he’s unzipping your skirt, pulling it down your waist as his shirt is discarded. He’s kissing down your waist as your skirt is thrown to the floor, whispering the sweetest word against your skin.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs against the spot right above the waistband of your panties. He loops his thumbs through it then pulls them down, letting them fall to the floor before he spreads your legs wide to see what he’s working with. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re really soaked for me, aren’t you?”

“I need you so bad,” you reply with a whine and his pants are off in a second, his underwear following closely behind, his cock coming into view. You’ve always dreamed about this exact moment, but now that it’s here, you’re almost convinced that you’re dreaming. Maybe that’s because you’re high.

“Relax, babe,” he laughs. “I’m right here.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips before lining himself up with you, slowly inserting just the tip. It already hurts because of your inactivity but you don’t dare ask him to stop. You think he’s gonna go further when he pauses.

“Fuck, I didn’t even ask if you’re on birth control or anything.” He’s panicking now and you want to do anything you can to get him to calm down. You appreciate that he’s being so sweet and caring and hate that he’s working himself up like this.

“It’s alright,” You place your hands on top of his that are resting on your waist. You force him to look you in the eyes, giving him a smile that eventually helps him relax. “I am on birth control. And if you don’t want to use a condom, that’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you let out a laugh. “Now please fuck me before I just do it myself.”

“Yes ma’am,” he nods and adjusts his grip on your waist as he slowly thrusts in and out of you, trying to find a good rhythm. You’re responding just the way he wants you to, moaning when it feels good, bucking your hips against his.

His nails are digging into your skin as he goes harder, your moans and whines getting even louder as your toes curl in pleasure. Your nails are scratching down his back as he picks up the pace even more, pounding into you over and over again as your pretty sounds fill his ears. This is the best sex he’s ever had and he knows that’s not just because he’s high.

“Look at you, taking me so well,” he says as his lips find yours again. It’s rough and messy as he’s still thrusting, but he’s just so desperate to have your mouth in his again. You moan into his mouth and he pulls away to let out a moan of his own. “You just feel so good, baby. We just should do this again when the high wears off.”

“I second that,” you breathe. “And again and again.”

“Until the morning and then I'll go to work and when I come back, we’ll do it again.”

“Sounds good to-” your words are cut off by an orgasm, your back arches as you scream out his name, Eddie talking you through the entire thing.

He keeps going and you’re bucking your hips against his, trying your best to get him there. He’s close, you can see it as he throws his head back. He pulls out quickly, cum leaking out onto your stomach as he’s reaching his own climax.

Once he’s come down from it, he stands from the bed and grabs hold of your hands, leading you to his bathroom where you two take a much needed shower that’s filled with kisses, washing each other’s bodies, which doesn’t last long before you’re at it again, totally unable to keep your hands off of each other. You then spend the rest of the night and early in the morning getting all tangled up in Eddie’s sheets, deciding that two years really was too long to be apart.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader

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moonstonejpg · 3 days ago

Text

ours (k.bakugou x reader)

"your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong in"

sum. bakugou is having a bad week, thankfully his girl is always there to make the bad days a little better

cw: a little angst, fluff at the end!

i hate hate hate paparazzi!! loosely based off of this and the song ours by taylor swift

It had been a rough week for Katsuki.

First, the hero rankings were announced, and he found himself at #15—not even in the top ten. And he swore it didn't bother him, that the rankings were just a stupid popularity contest. But you saw the way his shoulders slightly slumped in disappointment and the way his fists clenched so hard that the half-moon imprints of his nails in his skin stayed for hours after you had smoothed his fingers out.

It broke your heart to see him like that—and then yesterday he got into a silly fight with Izuku, one that was filmed and taken way out of context by thousands of people on the internet. Which in turn prompted the resurgence of people saying he didn't even deserve to be on the list at all, let alone at #15.

bakugou is mentally unstable lol

i worry about his gf tbh, those anger issues are a huuuge red flag

right?! i hope that poor girl gets out of that

she seems so sweet, he’s probably threatening her or something

It was just one hit after another for him.

And now, as he stares out the window at the crowd of paparazzi with a clenched jaw, the only thought in your mind is how this is strike three. All he wanted to do was take you out for a nice dinner to thank you for being so supportive this week, but he couldn't even do that without a swarm of media leeches waiting outside.

"Kats, we don't have to go. We can just stay here." You say quietly, worried eyes set on his tense shoulders.

"No," he growls, "I'm not letting them ruin this too." He positions himself in front of you before taking a few hesitant steps out the front door of your shared apartment building.

His warm hand envelopes your own, fingers threading through before tugging you behind him, half shielding you with his large body. The flash of the cameras and the noise of the crowd makes your vision blur, but Katsuki is moving fast, fingers tightly gripping your own while his gaze is laser focused on the awaiting black car parked on the other side of the street.

Everything is moving so fast, the shouts of the various reporters melting together around you. But you can't hear a word they say, the sound drowning out any specific words, until—

“Why him?”

And you nearly miss the step below as you freeze. The question has you rearing back as if you'd been hit, your eyes dancing towards the sound of the question. You see him right away, a male reporter who is nearly frothing at the mouth for a reaction. The reporter leans forward, eyeing you hungrily as he waits for an answer. And usually, you wouldn't give them any time of day, the daily harassment towards you and every other pro-hero and their significant other almost daily a good enough reason toignore any of their probing questions. But how could you ignore this?

“Why him?” you parrot back, white-hot anger burning through your body at a rapid rate. You don’t think twice before you’re ripping your wrist out of the blonde's hand and taking angry strides towards the reporter. You're nearly toe-to-toe with the man, and while he is a full head taller than you, he shrinks a bit from the look on your face.

Katsuki comes up beside you, gently tugging at your wrist.

“It’s not worth it.” He says lowly, looking down at you with something like sadness tinged in his eyes. And your heart cracks, picking up on the one thing he isn’t saying but you know he’s thinking.

That he’s not worth it.

And you can’t have that, you can't have Katsuki thinking that he isn’t worth any of this, because he is. He is worth everything, and despite being in each other’s lives for years now, the fact that he still doesn’t see that is devastating.

Your body begins shaking from a mix of anger and adrenaline as you look at the crowd around you. A slow hush falls over the crowd, as if they are waiting with bated breath to see what you have to say.

“Because he is the kindest human I have ever had the pleasure of knowing; kinder than any of you will ever be. And what has he ever done to you to make you so obsessed with twisting every move he makes, every word he utters into something that makes him look like the bad guy? And for a quick buck? You all should be ashamed of yourselves.” After shooting a glare around the crowd, you keep your chin high as you grab a stunned Katsuki’s hand and drag him towards the car.

You gently push him in, keeping a hand smoothed over the back of your dress as you crawl in after him, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary.

The car ride to the restaurant is eerily quiet, and as the adrenaline begins to leak out of your body, your brain catches up to what you did. And yeah—they did need to be told off, but you start to wonder if this is something that will get him into trouble.

You weren’t a hero and you didn’t have a lick of media training, why did you think causing a scene would be a good idea? The thoughts spiral in, and you want to bury your face in your hands as dread slithers its way into your stomach.

When you get inside the building, you are ushered towards the back of the restaurant by the host, presumably to where your table is located. But before you round the corner, Katsuki is tugging you into a dimly lit closet, fingers making quick work of the lock. Even after the door is bolted shut, he stands and faces it, as you just watch the outline of the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders.

“Kats?” You say quietly, a hand hovering over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I just—”

He shakes his head, a disbelieving laugh pushing its way out of his mouth.

“No, you—” He shakes his head again, then turns around to face you, his body crowding you up against the wall. His eyes are dark, twinkling with emotions you can’t place. Both of his hands come up to gently cradle your face, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?”

You blink up at him, confused.

“Not only was that the hottest thing I have ever seen, but—well, that was the first time anyone has stuck up for me before.”

“I would do it again—anything for you really. You’re worth it. And I know that’s hard for you to believe, but you are. They can say whatever they want, but I know in my heart that I do not deserve you, and that you ” You say quietly, eyes locked on his. He smiles, eyes shining, before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” He whispers in the dark of the room, thumbs caressing your cheeks.

“I love you Kats.”

“I love you too. Now, how about we ditch this place?” He asks, leaning back to tug at his tie, before bending forward to loop it around your neck. “I think that new ice cream parlor is open. So, sundaes on me?”

You nod, a giggle escaping when he bends down and tugs the ends of the tie, your body falling into him. He lets out a gentle laugh, the sound like a gentle breeze on a hot day. It has your smile stretching across your face, your heart singing in response.

He reaches down to unlock the door, but when he flicks the lock back, nothing happens. Katsuki tries again, but again, nothing happens. It doesn’t budge, not the second time he tries or the fifth, or even the tenth time he tries. On the eleventh try his hand slips from the lock, his eyes colliding with yours.

It’s silent for a few seconds, and then a laugh bursts out of him, followed by another and another. The sound has the grin staying locked in place on your face, relief flowing through you at the change in his mood.

“We—we’re stuck.” He gasps out, hands falling on his knees as he hunches over, deep laughs spilling out of him. It isn’t long before you are on the floor next to him, trying to catch your breath around your own laughter.

#mha x you #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha fluff #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo #katsuki #katsuki x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #katsuki bakugo x you #katsuki bakugou x you

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moonstruckme · 1 day ago

Note

hi! i just read your drabble with remus fixing the readers attitude and i was wondering if you could do the same with sirius? i really loved your other one and seen you were trying to take requests for sirius.

i hope you have a wonderful day!!

Thanks for requesting, hope you have a lovely day as well <3

cw: d/s dynamics, reader has hair troubles and uses products + tries running fingers through it so it's long enough for that

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 991 words

Sirius can hear you fuming from outside the bathroom. Heavy breaths and drawers being shut too harshly and the occasional, frustrated grunt. If it wouldn’t be such a betrayal of you, he’d take a video so Remus can see what he’s like while he’s transforming during a full moon.

“What’s going on in there, gorgeous?” he asks from the bed.

Your reply is nearly a growl. “Nothing.”

“Mm. Yeah, sounds like nothing.” Sirius gets up, going to the bathroom and nudging the door open. He leans against the doorframe as you scowl at yourself in the mirror, wringing product into your hair like you half hope it just tears off. “What’s got you so wound up?”

“Nothing.”

He tuts. “Not any more convincing the second time. Try again.”

You’re pointedly not looking at him, but Sirius notices that your scowl intensifies. “My hair is being fucking unbearable.”

Sirius opens his mouth, but you cut him off.

“And I don’t want to hear that it always looks good, or that you think I look nice no matter what, or any of that bullshit, okay?”

“That’s unfortunate. I’m sorry, sweetness, but I’m not going to start lying to you. Your hair is perfect, and you do always look—”

Your eyes bore into your own reflection, sharp and wrathful. “Don’t.”

Sirius’ eyebrows lift. “I’m sorry, don’t? Don’t compliment my girlfriend, or don’t be honest?”

“Either. I know you’re full of shit, because it looks insane right now, but even if you have miraculously gone blind since this morning, Lily and Alice will be there, and they know what hair should look like when it’s not being so—so—”

“Alright.” Sirius is beginning to grow amused with you. You’re so ridiculous when you’re upset, brash and squinty-eyed and cute. “Save yourself the exertion of finishing that sentence gorgeous. Take a breath.”

“I don’t want to breathe!”

“And yet, we all have to anyway.”

“God, Sirius, fuck off!” You finally lock eyes with him in the mirror, positively fuming. “I knew you wouldn’t get it. I’m trying to look nice for your friends, and you’re making fun of me! If my hair would just—fucking—” You appear to give up on the product, your attention returning to your hair as you begin dragging your fingers through it mercilessly. “—do what I tell it to, maybe then I’d fucking breathe, but instead it’s basically unsalvageable, and—”

“Oi.” Sirius’ humor at the situation has vanished. By the time you think to look at him he has both your hands in his, restrained from doing further damage to yourself. “No. If you’re going to be like this about going to Frank and Alice’s, we won’t go. So is that it, or can you be good?”

Sirius uses the sharp tone he knows you’ll respond to, but really he isn’t angry. He only wants to give you pause. And oh, it’s so sweet to watch the brattiness leave your eyes. The terse pucker of your mouth softens to an almost imperceptible pout, your whole demeanor shifting in an instant.

He takes both your wrists in one hand. With the other, Sirius cups the side of your throat, fingers curled around your nape and thumb rubbing against your erratic pulse.

“I need an answer,” he says.

“Yes,” you say, and your voice is soft, like the sharp edge from a minute ago has been bitten off. “I can.”

“Good.” Sirius allows his tone to gentle some, though he keeps his firm grip on your wrists. “Then you have to relax, baby. Breathe.”

This time, you do as you’re told. It works as he knew it would, your shoulders drooping after the long exhale like the last of the fight has finally gone out of you.

“Thank you.” He touches his lips briefly to the center of your forehead, pretending not to notice how you sway towards him for more. “Now, do you still want to go to Frank and Alice’s tonight?”

You open your mouth, but this time it’s Sirius who stops you.

“Wait. Really think about it. Are you going to enjoy yourself, or are you going to spend the whole time feeling weird about your hair?”

You hesitate, rubbing your lips together. Sirius strokes his thumb down the line of your throat approvingly.

“I still think I want to go,” you say after a few moments.

“Okay.” Sirius nods. “Then you’re going to let me braid your hair for you. You’ll look just as lovely and perfect as you do now, but you won’t be able to mess with it any more. Does that sound alright to you?”

Your relief is palpable. You let out a breath, eyes growing suspiciously bright. “Yeah. That would be great, thank you.”

“Okay, come here.” Sirius releases your neck and wrists to wrap his arms around you. He presses his lips to your lovely, perfect hair while you curl your hands in his shirt as if to keep him from slipping away. Like Sirius would ever want to. “Shh. You’re fine, baby. Ease up.”

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” you mumble against his front.

“Yeah, I’ll bet. You did it more than once, if I recall.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.” He laughs a little, hugging you tighter. “It’s okay. You get a hair insanity pass, just this once. Let’s have a good night, okay?”

You let out another sigh. Sirius rubs your back reflexively. “Yes, please.”

“M’kay. Let’s go.” He starts ushering you towards the bed, grabbing a couple of hair ties on his way out of the bathroom. “We’re done with the mirror for today. And no yelling at me while I do your hair, got it?”

You try on a coy smile; it’s small, but Sirius respects the effort. “I could never yell at you.”

“Uh huh. I may forgive, but I don’t forget that easily, sweetness. Try it again and we’ll be staying home to deal with that attitude of yours.”

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babeyun · 2 days ago

Text

bubblegum ☆ y.jw [m]

synopsis: from raspberry sour belts to strawberry crème filled chocolates, you know jungwon like the back of your hand...when it comes to candy. he's far deeper than meets the eye. genre: acquaintances to lovers au. candyshop au, college au. fluff, smidge of angst, suggestive themes. pairing: college student!yang jungwon x fem!candy shop attendant!reader word count: 11.9k (sorry...) rating: 18+. minors do not interact. warnings: swearing, mentions of food, stress and bad coping mechanisms. jungwon has a sweet tooth. reader and jungwon are both subtly flirtatious in their own ways. reader wears glasses but hates them. there is NO smut in this, just kissing and heavy petting, suggestive themes. pet names (pretty, pretty girl, baby, etc.) what to listen to: bubblegum - newjeans ; crush - seventeen ; trivia 承: love - bts ; blossom - enhypen. author's note: [star dividers by @/saradika here on tumblr!] ah! i came up with this concept so quickly it made my head spin, but i really hope everyone likes it? this is super late, it is past six in the morning as i post this but either way...happiest birthday to my absolute baby, my wonsito. i love u!

SATURDAY, 7:39PM.

"We're out of raspberry sour belts." Jungwon groans inwardly as he hears your voice call through the store, your hands busy with the restock cart as you push past the candy carousels. His hand shoves the tongs back into their slot, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He bites down on his gum, trying not to grind his teeth as he chews it carefully. "You're sure?" He asks meekly, resting his head against the carousel display that showed off chocolate bunnies made for the Valentine's Day sale. You glance up from your cart, holding a bag of sour cherry balls as you nod. He can see your lips moving but he can't hear what you're saying, his eyes too focused on the glimmer of your lipgloss in the low light of the shop.

"Might have some in the back, but it'll take me a minute to check. Feel free to continue perusing, we have those strawberry crème melts you like on Carousel G." The gesture you make with the scoop you've picked up from the candy container makes him snap back to reality, and he nods like he was listening. He wanders off, before hearing you snicker quietly.

"G, Jungwon. As in Girlfriend, not that you'd know anything about that." You call, and he ducks out of sight embarrassedly.

Jungwon had long been a customer of your father's candy shop. He met you about six years ago, when your father finally allowed you to start working there part-time to save some pocket money for school. The two of you wound up going to the same university a few miles away, and you kept working at the shop – and Jungwon kept coming back.

He had become quite the regular – often finishing the raspberry sour belts, the strawberry crème melts, and your personal favorites: the chocolate almonds. He recalls you scowling when you'd find yourself yearning for a crunchy, chocolatey delight – only to arrive at the shop for your shift and seeing Jungwon, eyes heavy with stress, filling his candy bag with the last of them. You've learned to settle for the strawberry yoghurt almonds, but they just don't hit the same. (And Jungwon feels guilty, so he leaves the almonds alone every once in a while. He enjoys seeing you smile lightly when you skirt past them and click the container closed to save them for yourself.)

You make smalltalk with Jungwon, asking about his classes and his friends. It's always the same – his classes are okay, his friends are okay, he is okay. He asks you the same questions – your classes are fine, your friends are sparse and you're alright. You're both juniors, you're both maxed out with your schedules and you're both stressed – but it's like none of that translates into your conversations. Almost as if the weight of it all is lifted when you speak to each other, even if it's the bare minimum.

That's about as far as your conversations go anyway, unless you're directing him around the shop as if he'd never been there before. He can't help but let you be his human GPS though, not when he acts like he hadn't been there in years just to hear your voice. As if everything hasn't been in the same spot since your father first opened the shop.

"Uhm, do you guys still have those salted caramel taffies? My friend just asked me for some." He pipes up quietly, and your eyes flicker up to him with a furrow in your brows.

"I think so? We did move those from their old carousel, they should be on the shelf wall now. Above the yoghurt pretzels but below the chocolate raisins. Odd placing, but I don't question my dad." You shrug, your hands now busy with caramel apple suckers and pouring them into the clear bin. He nods, mostly to himself as he skirts to the back, feeling his phone buzz in his pocket. He takes it out, seeing two messages from the same friend that owes him over eighty bucks in saltwater taffy.

NEW! Msg From: Jake [7:43PM] is the cute girl there [7:43PM] you should ask if she's single

He scoffs, shoving his phone back into his pocket and opening the case. He listens to you rustle around, the satisfying sound of candy pouring nothing in comparison to the soft tone of your voice. Sometimes you spoke a lot more, particularly on days where you weren't stuck restocking – or filling in for your coworker, Jaehee…who loved to call out around the holidays.

He hears you walking away, and feels alone as the sound of candy stops. He likes your presence, he may even have a bit of a crush on you.

Okay. He has a big crush on you. He's had a crush on you for three fucking years, and not once has he been able to make a move.

"So stupid." He hears you mumbling to yourself, the furrow in your brows not leaving as he looks over his shoulder at you, seeing your phone in your hand as you typed furiously. He lets his brows raise as he shuts the taffy container, making his way to you and clearing his throat. He stays a few feet away as you look up at him, your eyes tired and annoyed but your voice still sweet.

"Ready?" "Yep. Sorry about…whatever is frustrating you." He winces as he gestures at your phone, and you just scoff out a laugh.

"Not your fault, Jungwon. Jaehee'll be the death of me, you know." You shake your head, shoving your phone in your pocket before turning on your heel and leading the way to the register. Your father insisted on remaining old-school – so much so, that the calculator you used to add up the prices had long lost the numbers off the keys.

"On the scale, please." You tapped it, and Jungwon placed his bag in the metal bowl and reached into his pocket for his wallet. You punched the keys in, turning the calculator to him. Eight dollars, ninety-two cents. "Sounds reasonable." He shrugs, making you smirk. You took the bag off the scale, tying it closed with your favorite baby blue ribbon. Jungwon had often watched you let children choose what color they wanted to tie their bag shut, but you never let him choose. He smiled inwardly at the information that fed his subtle delusion, before sliding a wad of cash into your awaiting hand. "Keep the change." He murmured, taking the bag off the counter when you raised a brow at him, shaking your head. "You're forgetting something." His brow furrowed, and he felt around his pockets. Wallet, phone, keys. He felt his head, sunglasses. "What?" "Say thank you, Jungwon." You smiled, pulling a box of raspberry sour belts out from under the register. The sticker that usually reads the best by date had a new label typed beneath today's date.

MADE FOR: YJW.

His eyes widened, and they flickered up to you as you slid the box across the counter to him. "I thought you said–" "Still haven't heard you say thank you, Jungwon." He scoffed, his ears feeling hot as he took the box between lithe fingers. He cleared his throat, "How mu–" "Say thank you." You repeated, not looking at him as you popped the register open, smoothing the bills he'd given you into their warranted spaces. He sighed, tongue toying with the silver ring through his lip. Your eyes were now pointed, arms crossed on your chest as you waited for him to speak.

"Thank you, Y/N." "You're welcome, Jungwon." This…this was the confusing part of your interactions.

You were curt, short and sweet. Your smile was extended to every customer that crossed the threshold of the shop, your eyes shimmered with delight when someone sampled a recommendation of yours and fell in love with it. You laughed, giggled, chortled with those who cracked jokes, and you empathized with those who came in with broken hearts, in need of a little treat to lift their spirits.

But this? This was reserved for him. It was an unspoken thing you did – never charging him for whatever it may have been that you hid away for him. Whether it was raspberry sour belts, strawberry crème melts…even the occasional caramel apple sucker, he never paid for it and he wasn't sure if it was you being nice or you flirting with him.

It was even worse when you'd touch him softly, casually. Like you had zero idea the effect you had on him. Like the ghosting touch of your palm on his shoulder as you guided him through the shop, or when he said something that made you laugh.

Well…you didn't but that's not the point here.

"Have a good night." You murmured, a soft smile on your glossed lips snapping him out of his trance once more. He cleared his throat roughly, mumbling a you too before skirting out of the shop. The street was damp with rain, and he huffed as he walked towards his car, your lips cemented in his mind.

Does your lipgloss have a flavor? Is it something he'd like?

Would you let him kiss you?

He groans to himself, yanking his car door open before looking up and seeing you flicking the sign to say CLOSED. Your eyes wander, and they land on him – you smile, waving gently before turning on your heel and walking away from the large windows.

God, he's so fucked.

TUESDAY, 7:40PM.

"We're about to close." You're restocking again when he slips into the shop, your hands covered in blue powder from what he assumes are blue raspberry sour straws that came apart. You look frustrated, so he quietly takes his bag from the front of the shop when you look up, about to reiterate that the shop is going to close.

He sees your eyes change, your shoulders sagging as you give him a pitiful smile.

"Hey, Jungwon. Sorry about the mess. Feel free, but be quick please." You roll your eyes, your glasses sitting atop your head as you squint. He shakes his head, reaching for your glasses and pulling them gently off your head. He holds them up to you, making you grimace at the blue powder from the candy coating the lenses. "Great. Now I'm covered in blue raspberry bullshit and I can't see. This is terrific." You mutter, looking around for the wet wipes you usually kept on your restock cart. Jungwon absentmindedly rubbed the lens of your glasses with his sweater sleeve, the blue powder seeping into his black hoodie. He held them up to the light, before switching sleeves and wiping them again.

You looked back up, wipes in hand to see him hold up your cleaned glasses. You squinted at him, his hands gingerly sliding your glasses onto your face and walking away before you could see the powder staining his sleeves. He rolls the cuffs up, hiding it from view as he beelines for Carousel G.

The display is now stocked with a new flavor of bubblegum – raspberry swirl. He glances at it before looking over at you, watching you grimace as you carefully pour chocolate nonpareils into Carousel A. He clears his throat, garnering your attention.

"New?" He murmurs, and you blink at him, before putting the candy down and making your way over to him. You slide your hands in your apron pockets, the remaining blue powder looking like an avant garde choice across the white vinyl.

"You okay, Jungwon?" You whispered, his eyes flickering to you before he hummed.

"Why wouldn't I be?" He asked, twirling the magenta bubblegum in his fingers. You step in front of him, taking the bubblegum from his hand and unwrapping it for him. You hold the cellophane taut, prompting him to take the bubblegum from it. He does, his lip jutted out slightly in a pout as he shoves it into his cheek.

"Midterms, maybe? I know your classes are stressful." Your voice is laced with empathy, and he picks at his nails before sighing. Looking up, he sees your laptop and a bunch of your textbooks sprawled across the front counter. "Your classes are stressful too, though. Aren't they?" He searches your face, and you push your glasses up slightly, before running a hand through your hair with a sigh. You shrug your shoulders, as if to say could be worse.

"I'm a little…overwhelmed." He mumbles, fumbling with the cellophane bag in his hands. You nod, plucking a piece of the raspberry bubblegum off the display and unwrapping it quickly, shoving it into your mouth as you sigh.

"I'm sorry. I'd offer candy but it wouldn't be much, would it?" You tilt your head, a soft smile laced on your face as he lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head.

"It does more than you think, actually. Helps keep me grounded, I don't know. I tend to snack when I study, that's why you see me here so often." He rolls his eyes, "I'm trying to break the habit." "Oh, but then I wouldn't see you. That'd be a shame." You sound almost sad as you eye him, his cheeks heating under your gaze. You're about to speak again when you hear the doorbell chime, and you turn immediately to greet the person. Jungwon takes the moment to slink away, hiding himself away towards the back as the person announces they need to place a custom order for Valentine's Day.

Raspberry sour belts…strawberry crème melts…two pieces of pear taffy.

He doesn't pack his bag with much this time around, ignoring the urge to fill it the rest of the way with cherry jelly beans. He peers over Carousel M to see if you're still busy, and sees your smile wide as you carefully fill out the paper on the clipboard for the customer. He hears flavors being rattled off, and you write just as fast as they're being said.

He decides to circle back to the jelly beans, grabbing an ounce cup to fill and duck into his bag. You're telling the customer his total by the time Jungwon is done, and you've exchanged money and goodbyes when Jungwon inches back up towards the front. You give him a quick smile before sneaking over to the door and flipping the sign, waving sorely at a few customers who wanted in. They just give you a thumbs up. "Exciting stuff." Your voice is pinched with a bit of sarcasm as you climb back up behind the counter and gesture to the order, full of fruity flavors and chewy treats. He half-smiles, nodding solemnly before sliding his bag onto the scale as you grab the calculator. You flip to him.

Six dollars and ten cents. You cut the same baby blue ribbon for him as he pulls his wallet out, and he mumbles the same thing about keeping the change as he grabs for his bag. You stop him, holding the bag just out of reach as you frown.

"I know we don't have the same major or have the same classes, but do you think you'd need a study buddy?" Your eyes are serious, and Jungwon feels inclined to say no. He knows he wouldn't get any work done, not when your eyes are so pretty and your laughter makes his stomach fill with butterflies. Not when your voice is so soothing, he could fall asleep just listening to you right now.

He forces himself to find his voice, clearing his throat.

"I don't know if you'd want to do that, I'm going to have to study through the Valentine's Day weekend. Don't you have plans?" He rubbed his neck, and you shrugged.

"I don't have plans, and I assume you don't either if you're going to be holding yourself away to study." You raise a brow, as if daring him to challenge your assumption. He scoffs out a laugh, running a hand through his hair as he shakes his head.

Pretty girl like you doesn't have plans? "No, no plans. Not this year." He shrugs, watching you pull your apron off. You fling it over the back of the chair behind the counter, one he often saw you sitting at if he came in when you were studying. He hears you chuckle slightly, shaking your head as you print a bit of empty receipt paper and tear it off, sliding a pen between your teeth as you round the counter. "This is my number. We can spend the weekend studying like bitchless losers. I'm also free this Sunday, if you are too." You nod as you write the numbers on the paper, folding it quickly and holding it out to him along with his bag. He clears his throat, nodding even though Sunday is his birthday.

"Oh, and Jungwon?" "Yes?" "I hate seeing you so mopey. A hug for your thoughts?" You hold your arms out, and his instinctive response is to fiddle with the silver ring through his lip as his cheeks heat. You wiggle your fingers, a soft smile on your lips as he nods slowly. He puts the bag of candy on the counter, inching into your embrace before you roll your eyes and wrap your arms around his neck, his own instinctively going around your waist and resting his hands in the middle of your back loosely..

You're warm, God, you're so warm. Your hair smells like baby powder, your sweater riddled with a creamy strawberry scent. He can't help but wrap his arms around you tighter, pulling you closer and burying his face into your shoulder. He feels the cool metal of your dangling earring against his neck as you coddle against him with a hum.

"Feel better?" You murmur, the feeling of your breath against the shell of his ear making him shiver. It makes you laugh softly, your fingers coming to the nape of his neck and carding through the mess of waves. You make no move to slip away, but Jungwon tightens his hold around you anyway.

He doesn't know how long it's been until you start swaying slightly, humming softly along to the music still playing in the shop. It sounds like Valentine by Laufey.

"Sorry." He mumbles into your shoulder, blinking slowly. He feels you shake your head, your hand rubbing down his shoulders in an attempt to comfort. You don't move away, and Jungwon is beginning to think he could never get out of your embrace if you don't make the first move.

"Don't be. If I'm honest, this is making me kind of sleepy." You chuckle lightly, continuing to sway with him. "I still have to walk home."

"You walk?" He jerks his head back, looking to see your eyes slightly tired behind your glasses. You shrug, nodding. "Yeah, on most nights. It's fine, though, I only worry when it's raining." "It's been raining all week, Y/N." He says pointedly, his arms still wrapped around you as you roll your eyes.

"I'll live." "Let me drive you home tonight. You're almost done here, right?"

He doesn't know how he's speaking so confidently, and even you look a bit taken aback before nodding.

"Uh, yeah. Are you sure? I wouldn't want to inconvenience you–" "You're not. I can wait." He doesn't give you much of a chance to say anything, patting your back gently before pulling away. You move around the shop quickly, and Jungwon turns your laptop around to peer at your studying material. All he sees is words ending in -otomy, and he scrunches his nose before saving your progress on the program and closing the device. He spots your bookmarks scattered across the counter, slipping them between the pages and shutting the books, stacking them up carefully. He places your laptop on top of the books, before you skirt back around to the counter, rolling the restock cart into the backroom.

You move behind the counter, hanging the apron up and gathering the money in the register. You count it quickly, shoving it into a manila envelope and scribbling across the front in fuschia Sharpie before sliding it into the safe behind you. He watches as you quietly slip the heavy textbooks into your bag, your face holding a frown as you zip it up. You're about to pull it off the counter and over your shoulders when Jungwon grabs the strap.

"I'll carry it." He says quickly, moving the bag to his shoulder before you can object. He swears he sees a glint of bashfulness in your eyes as you clear your throat, a soft thank you slipping as you round the counter again, swinging your keys around your finger as he grabs his bag of candy (and the little paper with your number.) He steps out of the shop, digging his car keys out of his pocket as you turn the lights off and lock the doors.

"Are you sure, Jungwon? I really don't want you to have to go out of your way." You wince, clutching the keys in your hand as he scoffs.

"Y/N, you're insane if you think I'm ever going to not offer you a ride home after finding out how much your backpack weighs." He grimaces, and you bite back your laughter. "Now, come on. You can give me directions when we get in the car." Like a true gentleman, he opens the door for you. He waits until you're settled in before closing it, opening his back door and placing your bag gingerly in the footwell. He rounds the car, opening his door and settling in quickly, putting his bag of candy in the center console.

"Where to?" He asks as he shoves the key in the ignition, feeling your eyes on him. He peers up at you, your face unreadable. "Y/N?" "Sorry, what?" You blink, and he huffs out a laugh. "I said, where to?" He gestures to the road, and you nod quickly, taking your phone out and typing your address into the GPS. He glances at it, pulling out of his parking spot when he realizes you live in the same apartment complex as he does. "Y/N." "What?"

He scoffs, reaching over and ending the route on your phone. You scrunch your nose, and he holds up his keyfob for the parking garage – the white sticker screaming Decelis Student Apartments.

"You live there, too? How come I've never seen you?" You gasp, tucking your phone between your thighs and facing him as he fiddles with the radio. He shakes his head.

"You probably live on the West End. I share an apartment with my friends Jake and Sunoo on the North End. Our friends all live on the West End and we never see them at the complex." He snorts, settling when the radio plays out cool jazz. You nod, your lips forming an o-shape as he gets on the main road.

"I do live on the West End. My dad picked my apartment, he said it had the best view of the city." You shrug, and he nods.

"Sunoo picked ours. I wasn't going to move out of the dorms initially, but then my ceiling fell through and the University wanted me to pay for it. I said fuck that and I moved out the next week." He grimaces, and you choke out a laugh.

"Your ceiling fell through?!"

"Tell me about it, man. And I was upset, of course, but I was even more upset because the debris crushed a project I'd been working on for three weeks for my design course. I failed the semester because of that, can you believe it?" You don't respond, opting to bite back your giggles as he huffs.

"It's not funny!" "It's not, it's not. I'm sorry, Won." Won.

He doesn't bother replying, knowing he'd be a stuttering mess. Instead, the car fills with comfortable silence as you settle into the warm feeling of his old car. The warmth blasting through the vents is enough to make you sleepy, and he can tell because you're dozing off in the seat. He lets you nod off, driving carefully through the winding streets of the city. He frowns when he sees a bit of rain start to fall, fat drops of water landing on his windshield as he pulls into the West End parking garage. He'd have to walk in the rain to get to his side of the complex, and likely for over an hour.

He didn't have class tomorrow, either. He could leave his car there…maybe the cold of the rain would make the delusions of you go away.

"Y/N." He called softly, making you stir. You don't open your eyes, only humming in response and stretching your legs. He sees you wiggle your feet, rolling his eyes in amusement before he calls your name again. "Y/N. We're here." "Shit, sorry." You mutter, crossing your arms over your chest and snuggling deeper into the seat. Something about you sitting in his car with him, going home makes his chest fill with an odd feeling. Something feels closer, something feels more domestic than it ever had.

It feels oddly comforting.

"Y/N." He reaches over, unbuckling your seat belt and making you jolt awake. You furrow your brows at him, a scowl on your lips as he smiles. "As pretty as you are in my passenger seat, you have to sleep in your bed. C'mon, I'll carry your bag." "You think I'm pretty?" Your eyes are wide, and he feels his stomach drop to his ass. Did he say that shit out loud? "Of course I do. I'd be an idiot not to." He mumbles back, turning the car off as he unbuckles his seat belt. He can feel the heat of your eyes on him, but he ignores it as he slips out of the car. He's doing mental gymnastics, overthinking everything as he opens your door, offering his hand to help you out. You take it gingerly, and he feels the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge as he closes the door. He expects you to let go of his hand, but you don't – instead, holding onto it gently as he grabs your bag out of the backseat. He looks up at you as he closes the door, your bag hoisted over his shoulder.

You're just looking at him, a slight twitch of your lips as you tug on his hand.

"This way. I'm 3B." You slot your fingers in his, and Jungwon struggles not to breathe shakily as you pull him through the sliding doors of the parking garage, past the stairs. Your hand is so warm against his, your thumb rubbing gentle circles into his skin as you reach your apartment. Your doormat is shaped like a cinema ticket, ADMIT ONE scrawled across the coir.

You don't let go of his hand as you stick your keys in the doorknob, unlocking it quickly and pulling him in. You let go once he's passed the threshold, a soft tada! from your lips as he takes in your apartment.

This feels like a breach into a new perspective. Your space is spotless, but the coziest thing he'd ever seen in his life. A few throw blankets over a huge couch, lots of mood lightning, a few neon signs across the walls. Your kitchen outlet has a strawberry-shaped night light plugged into it, and lots of Polaroids hung up with clothespins pinched over twine.

"Nice place." He murmurs, looking around quietly. He gestures to your backpack, and you pull out one of the chairs at your dining table. He slips it off, setting it on the cushion before clearing his throat. "Thank you, for the ride and for carrying my things. You really didn't have to." You nod, and he rolls his eyes. "Y/N, I'd do it a million times over. Stop carrying all those books, you're going to hurt your back." He attempts to scold you, but it only makes you smile inwardly, shrugging your shoulders. He inches towards the door, feeling overwhelmed by the steps your relationship has taken in such a short amount of time…

…But God, if he doesn't like it. He could even go as far as saying he loved it.

"Don't forget to text me, okay? We're friends, I don't want you to feel stressed if I can help it." You nod, and he clears his throat as you carefully pry the front door open. He slips out, standing on your doormat as he speaks.

"I'll try not to, I'll save your number when I get home. Goodnight, Y/N."

Something about your eyes is screaming at him, but he can't pinpoint what it is as you trail your gaze around his face. Ultimately, you smile gently, nodding your head curtly. "Goodnight, Won."

FRIDAY, 5:21PM.

"I'm not going to embarrass you, I swear. Not this close to your birthday, anyway." Jake had been begging Jungwon to take him to the shop to see you in person ever since Tuesday, seeing Jungwon walk up to the apartment door typing something into his phone through the Ring camera. When Jake found out it was your number, he flipped.

Literally. A backflip in the living that ended up breaking a lamp. Sunoo's lamp, specifically. You know how that goes.

"You better not. And you're paying." Jungwon grumbles, opening the door to the shop. He doesn't see you, but he can hear you – and you're grumbling. He looks back at Jake, who is peering over Jungwon's shoulder. You're angrily refilling the strawberry yoghurt almonds, muttering about something with your brows furrowed. You seem entirely too upset to even notice that you're not alone, so Jungwon takes the opportunity to glance at Jake. "She's pretty. I'm a little scared, but she's pretty." He mumbles, and Jungwon rolls his eyes as he grabs a cellophane bag and hands one to his friend. They both quietly make their way around the shop, Jake sticking to Jungwon like glue when your head finally whips up, your eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

"Jesus, you guys scared me!" You breathe out, your hand to your chest as Jungwon snickers. "Well, you seemed pretty upset and kind of in your own world. Didn't want to poke the bear." He shrugs, and you suck your teeth, about to snip back when you notice Jake behind him. Jungwon sees your eyes go wide, wincing at your unprofessionalism as you try to rectify the situation.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't see you, uhm…please let me know if you need any assistance." You smile, and Jungwon glances at Jake, who is smiling back with a nod. Jake pats Jungwon's shoulder, mumbling something about circulating the shop to let him have his moment with you.

You wait until Jake leaves to give Jungwon a scornful look, but he can't see anything but the way your lip is jutted out in a pout.

Cute, he thinks.

"You didn't text me." You say, crossing your arms over your chest as Jungwon opens the chocolate almond container. He scoffs lightly, tonguing his lip ring as he nods, his cheeks heating slightly. Looking up at you, he sees an expectant look on your face.

"I…sorry. I was nervous." He mumbles, wincing as the confident persona he had when he walked in slipped away. You hummed, an unamused look on your face as you dug your phone out of your pocket. "Give me your number, since I have to do everything myself."

Your voice is teasing, so he knows you're not really upset. He feels his face grow hotter as you flip your phone and hold it out to him, and he takes it gently. He types his number in shakily, clearing his throat as he hands it back to you.

"I will see you on Sunday, yes?" You raise a brow, and Jungwon sees Jake's head pop up from around Carousel B.

"Sunday? Jungwon, we have plans." Jake speaks up, wincing as he sees the death glare being sent over your shoulder by the younger boy.

"Plans?" Your eyes are wide with confusion, but Jake doesn't give Jungwon a chance to explain before he slides over and does it for him.

"I'm sorry, we haven't formally met. I'm Jake." He holds his hand out to you, and Jungwon watches as you take it gingerly. You give it a firm shake and tell him your name, but your face is still muddled. "You're roommates, right?" "Yes. Jungwon, does Y/N know it's your birthday on Sunday?" Your eyes widen, your hand coming to cover your mouth as you gasp.

"Jungwon! You let me ask you to study together on your birthday? Are you insane?!" "I wasn't going to do anything for my birthday anyway? I was just going to hide myself away in my room, order takeout and study until my brain melted out of my ears." Jungwon shrugs. Jake rolls his eyes, moving his hair out of his face before speaking to you.

"Y/N, we're having a little movie night. I'm formally inviting you. Bring whatever you want, or nothing at all. Jungwon, give her our address." Jake scoffs, shoving Jungwon's shoulder lightly. "Studying all night on your birthday, are you mad?"

Jake walks away, leaving Jungwon in your presence. You press your lips into a thin line, "You should've told me, Jungwon. I would've left it for another day."

He doesn't get a chance to reply, your eyes softening as you scan his face.

"I feel like a bad friend because I didn't know. I'm sorry, I should've asked."

The sad look glazing over your eyes feels like a punch in the gut.

"No! No, please don't feel bad, Y/N. It really wasn't that important, and I should've told you I had prior plans." He tries, but you shake your head, putting your hands on his shoulders. "Birthdays are important, Jungwon. It is the one day that is all about you. It's important to me." You squeeze his shoulders lightly, and his chest fills with that odd feeling again. Something about you is so, so comforting.

Your hands drop and you tuck them into your apron pockets with a soft smile, and the words tumble out before he can stop them.

"Why would it be important to you? It's not like we're best friends." If you're affected by his words, you don't show it much. You only nod, nibbling on your lip before clearing your throat. For the first time, your smile is different towards him. It's the smile you use with customers who don't get the hint, or those who make you upset by letting their kids cause havoc in the shop. It makes his chest hurt.

"Of course, Jungwon. My apologies."

You turn on your heel, rolling the restock cart away and allowing him to move around freely. Jungwon catches Jake's eyes over one of the carousels, and he's not sure what expression is on his face that Jake's furrows into one of confusion and a bit of disdain. He slinks over, bag full of salted caramel taffy.

"Everything okay?" He murmurs, and Jungwon pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Let's just go home." He whispers, watching as you pat the top of your head for your glasses. You slide them down your face, swiping your hair out of your eyes and settling back behind the counter. You continue to nibble on the inside of your cheek, your focus now on your phone screen as you begin typing across the screen.

The two of them trek up to the counter, and you tuck your phone away to help them check out. You tap the scale lightly, and Jake sets his bag in it. You give Jungwon a pointed look, and he shakes his head, crumpling the empty cellophane bag in his hand. Shrugging, you click the numbers into the calculator, flipping it over for them to see. "Nine dollars, fifteen cents."

Jake digs his wallet out but Jungwon is faster, handing you a wad of cash and mumbling about the change. He doesn't even give you a chance to ask Jake what color ribbon he wants to tie his bag, because he takes it off the scale and pushes it into Jake's chest.

"See you around, Y/N." Jake sighs as Jungwon sulks out of the shop, and you shake your head disappointedly. "See you, Jake."

Jungwon's hand is buried in his container of cherry jelly beans, head stuck between his textbook when his phone buzzes on his desk.

NEW! Msg From: Y/N [7:49PM] hi, jungwon. it's y/n. [7:49PM] i just wanted to say i'm sorry for earlier. it's been weighing on me a bit. [7:50PM] i hope your birthday goes well :) don't worry about studying together, and have a good valentine's weekend!

He sits up quickly, snatching his phone off his desk. His lock screen widgets tell him it's raining, and the rumble of thunder confirms it.

Msg To: Y/N [7:53PM] i'm coming to drive you home, it's raining. [7:54PM] we can talk in person, okay?

He doesn't wait for a reply, shoving his phone in his pocket and grabbing his keys off his nightstand. He walks right past Jake and Sunoo sitting on the couch, watching reruns of Bad Girls Club. "Woah, woah! Where are you off to in such a hurry?" Jake calls over his shoulder, making Jungwon huff as he pulls on his windbreaker. "Giving Y/N a ride home. It's pouring out there." He mutters, grabbing his umbrella from the stand as Sunoo peers over Jake's head.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? The forecast said the rain is only going to get worse." Jungwon just sighs, zipping up his windbreaker before giving them a pointed look. "I'll be back." Neither of the men get a chance to say anything because Jungwon slams out of the apartment, barreling down the hall towards the parking garage. He finds his car by clicking his keyfob several times, wincing at the loud cracks of lightning across the night sky. He manages to pull out of the parking garage safely, clicking his tongue as he turns his heater on blast.

The drive to the shop is only six or so minutes, but the rain is coming down so strong that he can hardly see the road. His hazards are on, and he takes it slow – eventually seeing the lights of the shop come into view. He parks incredibly slowly, worming into the spot with practiced precision. Grimacing, he opens his door and shoves his umbrella out first, turning the car off quickly and sliding out. He slams the door a little too hard, but skips over the forming pools of water on the curb.

He's walking quickly towards the shop, seeing you scribbling on another manila envelope. Pulling the door open, your head snaps up, eyes wide before you blink. He doesn't speak, opting to shake his umbrella off outside before setting it on the black mat that you have in front of the door. Wiping his feet, he carefully makes his way over to the counter.

"I was an asshole, Y/N." You blink at him, flipping the fuschia Sharpie between your fingers.

"I shouldn't have said what I did, I'm sorry. I just…it's not a big deal to me. If it had been, I would've told you. I wouldn't have said yes to studying, and I wouldn't have planned to turn my phone on Do Not Disturb the entire day if I had cared about my birthday." You blink again, nodding softly. Letting out a soft breath, you fiddle with the crease of the envelope in your hand, tapping it against your palm.

"Just because it's not something you care about, does not mean that the people who care about you shouldn't care. You should let yourself be celebrated, you should let yourself feel loved, Jungwon. We are surrounded by so much anger and hatred in this world, should we not cherish the love and appreciation that rains upon us on our special day? A day that comes once a year. Anniversaries, birthdays…those things are important." Your voice is gentle, but he feels it deep, deep in his chest.

"Studying can wait, you have your entire life to study and learn. Living in the moment, making memories, even if it's just sitting around a television and watching a movie together. That matters, those moments count. You should cherish them, don't you think?" You're leaning slightly over the counter, and he sighs inwardly, but nods.

"Yeah." "Yeah?" You whisper, a soft smile on your lips as you reach over and ruffle his hair. He swats your hand away carefully, making you snort as you turn around and slip the manila envelope into the safe. He waits quietly as you pack your backpack, instinctively reaching for the strap and hoisting it over his shoulder as you walk around the counter. You grab your coat off the rack in the entrance, fishing your keys out of the pocket as you tug it on.

You flick the lights off, and Jungwon steps out first, opening his umbrella to cover the two of you as you lock the door.

"Man, it's really pouring out here, huh?" You mutter, tucking your keys into your pocket as Jungwon nods. The two of you walk in silence to the car, everything panning out the exact same way it did the first time. Jungwon scrunches his nose as he steps into the car, not bothering to shake the umbrella off as he tosses it into the back with your backpack.

"I'm sorry, again. I don't know what came over m–" You slide your hand over his mouth, the sweet scent of raspberry floating off it. "Stop. It's over, okay? We move forward, no looking back."

His okay is muffled, and you give him a half-smile as you drop your hand, leaning your head back on the seat. You reach into your coat pocket, and hold out a piece of raspberry swirl bubblegum. "No more apologies, Won." He takes it quietly, his lip pouting as he shoves the gum into his cheek. The car is silent as he drives the two of you back home carefully, your eyes barely open as he pulls into the West End parking garage. He undoes your seat belt, making you scowl again as he bites back his smile. This time, he takes your backpack out first, shoving it onto his shoulder before opening your door and offering his hand.

"C'mon. Up we go." He wiggles his fingers, your tired eyes peering up at him as you sigh. You take his hand, your fingers cool to the touch as you interlace them with his.

The walk to your apartment is slow and deliberate, your thumb once more tracing circles into his skin. Nothing is said – not as you fumble for your keys, not as you invite him into your apartment or as he slides the backpack off onto the same dining chair. Nothing, until he turns to face you and you're holding the door open slightly, your coat now slid off and hung up on the hook behind the door..

"Will you come over on Sunday? I'll make one of the guys come get you if I can't myself." He asks meekly, and you smile tiredly before nodding.

"Yeah, I'll be there." "And we'll study together next weekend?"

"Yeah, Won. We can study together." You chuckle, holding your arms out. "Hug it out? I don't like tension."

It's almost embarrassing how quickly Jungwon throws himself into your embrace, burying his face into your neck once more. Your fingers are gentle as they card through his hair, and he relishes in the comfort of your arms, eyes closed.

It's only when he feels you press your lips to his cheek that his eyes snap open, but you speak before he can.

"As much as I enjoy this, I'm going to fall asleep standing up." You murmur in his ear, and he hates how he shivers at the feeling of your breath on his skin. He pulls back, clearing his throat as you smile tenderly. "Goodnight, Jungwon." He doesn't know how he finds his voice, mumbling a delicate good night before slinking out of your apartment. He's not even sure how he gets home, his car now parked in the North End garage and his eyes glued to the ground as he unlocks his front door. Jake and Sunoo are still seated there, casually looking up as Jungwon shuts the door.

He rests his back against it, before feeling his legs turn into jelly as he slides down it.

Jake snorts, "What happened to you? You'd think you finally manned up and kissed the girl." Sunoo snorts, hurriedly tapping Jake's shoulder and pointing at the distressed roommate on the ground. "More like she kissed him. There's lip gloss on his cheek." Jungwon only sinks further onto the floor, a noise mixed with a groan and a scream from his throat as he covers his heating face. His voice is whiny as Jake and Sunoo get off the couch and crouch around him, Sunoo's cool hand moving the younger's off his face. "She kissed me goodnight."

"That's a big step for you, isn't it?" Jake teases, and Jungwon knows it's childlike but he kicks his feet petulantly anyway. Jake laughs, running his fingers through the younger's hair gently. "But a step in the right direction, Won. I'd say take it in stride." "I agree. I'd go as far as saying she's interested in you, too." Sunoo's voice has a lilt to it, before his fingers tilt Jungwon's face towards him. "Oh, and she has good taste. I got this lip gloss for my sister a few weeks ago, I think it's called Raspberry Swirl." Raspberry Swirl.

"You know that just by looking at it?" Jake ponders aloud, grabbing Jungwon's arm to pull him off the floor. Sunoo shrugs, mirroring Jake's actions and pulling Jungwon to his feet.

"I got the same one for you for Kazuha's birthday, didn't I? I know my shit." He scoffs, and Jungwon huffs as he tugs his jacket off.

"I can never wash my face. This has to stay here permanently." He hangs the jacket up on the rack, making Jake snort.

"Wash your face, you'll break out." He pats the younger's shoulder, who only shakes his head as he practically skips to his bedroom. The older men just snicker to themselves, opting to slump back onto the couch as they hear Jungwon squeal in his bedroom.

SUNDAY, 2:16PM.

"Hey, sorry I'm late." Jungwon watches you glance up, holding the door open for Jaehee to slip through. She gives him a curt nod, before turning her attention back to you.

"Almost twenty minutes, Jaehee. I told you I had plans today." You say as you avert your gaze back to the textbook in front of you, your hand gripping a blue gel pen as you scribble onto a notebook. Jungwon steps in quietly, not bothering to announce himself as he stuffs his hands in his pockets and leans against Carousel A.

"I know, I'm sorry. I missed the bus twice, I practically ran here." She scoffs, tugging her scarf off and skirting behind the counter. You only move forward a bit, grimacing as you tuck the shop's business card into the textbook as a page holder before shutting it.

"Anything I need to know before you leave? Aside from the fact that I now have to cover Valentine's Day weekend because of the stupid bus driving past me twice. Twice, Y/N! " "Geez, good vibes all around!" You smile, grabbing your empty backpack off the chair and setting it on the counter to slide your textbooks into it. Jungwon pushes off the carousel, brows jumping as you finally make eye contact with him. You grin, shrugging your shoulders as he reaches for the strap of the bag. He tugs it over his shoulder, and Jaehee gives him an odd glance.

"Is he part of your plans?" She elbows you lightly, making you roll your eyes. He just clears his throat, looking away as he digs in his pocket for his keys. You move to count the money in the register for your deposit as Jaehee ties the apron around her waist, hopping out into the backroom for the restock cart.

"Oh, Jaehee! Carousel B kicked the bucket this morning. Birthday party came in, the dad couldn't control them and they broke several of the containers." You groan, closing your eyes as you thumb through the cash. Jaehee makes a disappointed noise, crossing her arms as she surveys the wrecked carousel. Jungwon glances over, and sure enough – there is broken hinges and cracked plastic all over the now wasted candy in the containers.

"So no chocolate almonds, no butterscotch bites…aw man, no caramel nonpareils?" She pouts, thumbing at the cracked plastic. You shake your head begrudgingly, Jungwon looking up at you as you once more scribble in fuschia Sharpie on the manila envelope before sliding it into the safe behind you. You pull your apron over your head and hang it up, sighing as you stretch and walk out from behind the counter.

You've got a nice pair of blue jeans on, held up by a black leather belt that matches the watch around your wrist. You paired it with a cream v-neck sweater and a pink turtleneck. A thin, silver chain hangs low on your chest, and he tries not to stare too hard as you take the claw clip out of your hair, letting it fall down your back. He can hear you saying your goodbye to Jaehee, but can't say anything as you loop your arm with his and pull him out of the shop.

"How's your birthday so far, Won? Anything you wanna talk about?"

He clears his throat, "Uhm, it's okay. Jake and Sunoo kicked me out of the apartment early to decorate, so I haven't been home yet. Heeseung and Jay are my other friends, they took me to breakfast and our friend Riki was there with a bunch of prepared gifts…I don't know. It felt…" "Good? Nice? You feel loved?" You tease, your hand wrapped around his bicep squeezing slightly as he sighed shakily. "Sure, let's say that. They don't usually go all out, but I guess twenty-one is a milestone." He murmurs to himself, and you click your tongue. "Every year is a milestone, Won." You say as he opens the car door, holding it as you slide in. Your eyes are pointed, and he looks away as he shuts the door. He slides your bag into the back again, but he feels it lighter. "Not as many books today?" He asks as he slides into the driver's seat, and you shake your head.

"I have other plans. There's this guy, his birthday is today and he thought we'd be holed away studying all day. Can you believe that?" You're grinning widely as you buckle in your seat belt, and he scoffs. "Wow, what a guy." He turns the car on, and you cross your legs at the knee before humming.

"Can we make a stop at my apartment? To drop off the bag, and I have something for you." Jungwon almost chokes as he jolts the car to a stop at the light, your eyes wide as you slide forward a bit. He winces, "Sorry, sorry! You didn't have to get my anything, Y/N. Seriously." "Consider it to be one of the things you cherish. Our friendship, I mean." You say, adjusting the seat belt back on your chest as you snuggle back into the seat. Jungwon doesn't reply, cheeks far too hot in embarrassment to even speak.

The rest of the ride is silent, aside from your soft breathing and the clicking sound as you play with the buttons on the door. Jungwon pulls carefully into the West End parking garage, seeing Jay and Heeseung carefully walking out of the apartment entrance with a box held between the two of them. Riki and Sunghoon hold the door open, their own hands full of bags as Riki catches Jungwon's eye.

"Are those your friends? That guy is staring awfully hard." You murmur, peering at Sunghoon from your seat in his car. Jungwon scoffs, nodding.

"Yeah. Be sure to tell him he has a staring problem, that freak." He mutters, and you laugh softly as he puts the car in park, turning the motor off as Jay and Heeseung start bickering as they get closer to Jay's car. Jungwon opens the door to hear Jay telling Heeseung to walk slower.

"If we drop it, I'm kicking your ass right here." Jay huffs, and Heeseung only rolls his eyes as he stops when he sees Jungwon rounding the car to get your bag. They both watch him, Riki and Sunghoon bumping into Jay's back because they're also just watching like idiots.

"Do you guys need something?" Jungwon grumbles as he opens your door, not offering his hand this time. He doesn't notice your disappointment as you step out on your own, tucking your hair behind your ear as he shuts the door. "Nope, nothing at all, loverboy." Sunghoon pipes up, earning a choked laugh from Riki. "Let the guy live." Jay announces, and Jungwon thanks the older boy with a tight smile, guiding you to the entrance. However, Jungwon should've known better – because Heeseung opens his big, fat mouth.

"Is that the girl?" He doesn't say it loud enough for it to be heard, but it's a parking garage – everything bounces off the wall like Jungwon's fist is going to bounce off Heeseung's face the next time he gets him alone. He doesn't say anything as your eyes widen, wincing as you both slip into the apartment entrance and walk to your apartment. You don't speak, only unhooking your carabiner from your belt loop and swinging the keys around your fingers. You unlock the door, allowing him in first before closing it behind you.

"They like to tease you, right? I've heard men are like that."

He rolls his eyes and nods, sliding your backpack onto the dining chair as you slip into your kitchen. "It's their favorite pastime. You'd think we'd bully the youngest together, but it's always me." He huffs, tonguing the ring in his lip as he leans over the back of the chair. You only laugh from the kitchen, and he hears you rustling around before your head pops out of the division.

"Close your eyes." "Y/N, I don't like surprises." "C'mon, Won! Close your eyes, I promise it's worth it."

He can't deny you, not when you're practically vibrating out of your skin and bouncing on your toes. He sighs, running a hand through his hair before closing his eyes. "Alright, alright." He hears you walk over to him, placing a cold box in his hands. His nose scrunches as he feels around it, feeling a ribbon tied in a knot at the top.

"Open your eyes."

It's a box of candy from your father's shop, tied in baby blue ribbon. Not just any box, though – it's the candy mix boxes your father makes by hand the day before the order is set to be picked up. He'd only ever seen people buy them for their significant others for holidays, or anniversaries…

Or birthdays.

"Happy birthday! I know it's not much, but I did stay up all Saturday with my dad making these. We even gave you some stuff we're thinking of introducing at the shop, like these chocolate coins. They have a raspberry swirl, you like that, right?" You tap the corner of the clear box, and he eyes it. He does, he loves anything like that.

"You packed this yourself?" He murmurs, untying the knot slowly. You nod.

"Uh-huh. So there is a method to it, the top row is all stuff I've seen you pick out. Raspberry sour belts, strawberry crème melts, caramel apple hard candy and a few cherry jelly beans. Second row is stuff I've recommended that you've liked, such as the chocolate almonds, pear saltwater taffy, the raspberry bubblegum and the caramel nonpareils you had for an entire week in July. This last row is all new stuff, so the raspberry chocolate coins, some heart-shaped cherry disks, a few blueberry yoghurt almonds and then I put a few peach-raspberry fusion rings here. My dad wasn't sure you'd like them but I said we should try anyway." He's staring at you as you explain, your manicured nail carefully tapping the case as you move across it. He can tell you feel his eyes on you, because you shift with uncertainty as you look up at him.

"So, uh…what do you think? Is it okay?"

"Yeah, it's perfect, actually. Thank you, Y/N." He whispers, running his thumb over the shop's stamp on the box. You nod slowly, before he sets the box down on the table. "Uhm, are you ready? I'm sure the guys are waiting–" "Is there something wrong, Jungwon?" You ask gently, your eyes worried and probing as you look at him. They flit all over his face as you nibble on your lip, a habit that visits his mind at the most inopportune moments – when he's studying, when he's taking a test, when he's in the shower, for fuck's sake.

"I can't think when you do that, stop it." He admits, his cheeks heating as your eyes widen. He looks away as you seem to let the pieces connect in your mind, before he hears your voice in his ear. "So…you? Me? You like me?" You look down, picking at your nails. He scoffs.

"Yeah, I have for a while. I'm sorry. I should go." He runs his tongue over his teeth, before pushing off the back of your dining chair. He doesn't bother picking the candy box back up as he fumbles with his keys, before he feels your hand on his arm yanking him back.

He doesn't have time to think, your face far too close to his as he stumbles back in front of you. He breathes out shakily, feeling your glossed lips ghosting over his own – the soft scent of raspberry floating up and clouding his senses.

He feels his entire body heat up as you kiss him softly, your hands moving to hold his face in your palms. He doesn't let the shock stop him from melting into you, his eyes fluttering shut as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. The taste of your lip gloss is seeping into his mouth as you nip at his lip ring, his hand moving the dining chairs out of the way to push you against the table. He lets you slip your tongue into his mouth as your hands move to fist his black hoodie, his own moving to your hips to lift you onto the table.

He settles between your legs, feeling your confidence grow hotter as you wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer. He can't help but groan softly into your mouth as one of your hands slides under his hoodie, the feeling of your skin against his bare torso almost enough to make him lose his mind. He pulls back slightly, your lips chasing after his as he shakes his head, resting his forehead against yours. Your eyes are shy as you look up at him, your hand beneath his sweater moving to toy with the belt loops on his black jeans. You can't hold eye contact for the first time since he's known you, clearing your throat as you look away.

"Sorry." You murmur, and he gently holds your jaw in his fingers, moving your head back to face him.

"Yeah? Sorry?" His lips brush over yours, and he feels your breath hitch in your chest as you resist the urge to connect your lips. "Sorry for what?" "If you're going to kiss me, you should just do it. I'm not going to object." You rush out, and he can't help but smile against your lips, earning a whine from your throat. "Jungwon!" "I'm right here, pretty. Not going anywhere." He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, before mumbling against them. "I like you a lot, Y/N." "I like you, too, Won. I've liked you for so long."

He can feel your face grow warm under his fingertips, pressing another kiss to your lips. "How long?" "Three years." You murmur softly, and he can feel your lips jut into a pout against his as he smiles. "Why are you smiling!? As far as I know, you like me, too!" "Just because we're idiots." He shakes his head, pressing his lips to yours once, twice, three times. "So stupid, I should've kissed you then. Could've been mine ages ago."

He feels your thighs tighten around his hips, "Can be yours now, Won." "Yeah? Want to?" He runs his thumb over your lip, pressing down on it slightly as your eyes look up at him. You nod silently, making him sigh exaggeratedly. "Need words, pretty." "Wanna be yours." You're pouting, before your eyes widen and you pull back, poking a finger in his chest. "Not today, though, birthday and anniversary hybrids are tacky." He rolls his eyes, resting his hands on the tops of your thighs. "Then, when?" "Before Valentine's Day, but after today. Tomorrow, even. I'll even allow midnight." You're trying hard to put on a serious face, your finger still pointed at his chest. He glances down at your watch, clicking his tongue.

"That's not for another nine hours, pretty." He taps the face of it, and you frown as you look down at it.

"Okay yeah, but we have to go spend your birthday with your friends anyway." "I would honestly prefer to just spend it with you." "Jungwon." You roll your eyes as he plants a kiss on your cheek, before peppering his lips all over your face. "Jungwon!" "Nine hours is too long." He mumbles against your skin, feeling your hands tug at his hoodie. "I have all of Valentine's Day weekend off because Jaehee was late today. We can spend it together and do whatever you want to make up for these nine long, grueling hours of agony, my poor baby." You add a flair of sarcasm to your voice, but Jungwon doesn't care as he squeezes your thighs gently.

"Whatever I want?" He raises a brow, scanning your face as you roll your eyes.

"You're a pervert." "You like me." "I do, unfortunately." You sigh, pressing your lips into a firm line as you nod reluctantly. "Now get your hands off me and let's go. Your friends are going to be wondering where you are." "Are you sure I can't convince you to just stay here and kiss me until we die?" He grumbles, tracing circles into your thighs as you sigh, leaning back on your hands. "I'll make you a deal. I'll stay over at yours tonight instead. I don't have class tomorrow." You offer, and he glances up at you through his lashes. He holds out his pinky finger, seeing you bite back a smile as you link yours. "Alright." He tucks the box of candy under his arm as you hop off the table, smoothing your sweater and grabbing your keys. He confidently interlaces your fingers, pulling you through the complex and into the parking garage, and doesn't let go until he has to get into his seat. He watches you pull your lip gloss from your pocket and reapply it in his car mirror, Raspberry Swirl in big, pink font across the tube. He allows the teasing from his friends as he leads you into his decorated apartment by hand, your smile shy as he introduces you to everyone one by one. He allows the teasing as you gather around him with his friends to sing Happy Birthday, and he pouts when icing is smeared on his face by multiple hands – only to feel your lips against his the moment his friends slink out of the dining room to flop on the couch with their slices of cake. He allows the teasing as Sunghoon and Riki walk into the kitchen and see you wiping his face with a damp rag, his blushing cheeks hidden by your hands as you defend him.

He doesn't care about the comments his friends make under their breath when he pulls you into his lap during the movies they put on. He doesn't care when they mutter about him being whipped when he allows you to curl up in his embrace, your face buried in his neck as he traces circles into your hip. He doesn't care when they giggle at him as you whisper in his ear about whatever is going on in the movie, because he's not even watching – instead, focused on the incredible feeling of you so close to him.

He can't lie to himself, he tries to take his time opening the gifts after the films, asking questions and acting interested. He is interested, but his eyes keep flicking back to you sitting in the corner behind his gaggle of friends, just watching him with a fond smile and the same shimmer in your eyes that you have when you follow him around the shop. You actively engage his friends, answering their questions and playing into their jokes as he finishes the haul of gifts in front of him.

He rushes the goodbyes. He hugs his friends tightly for the first time in ages, thanking them for taking time out of their schedules and lives to spend his birthday with him. He feels his body fill with impatience as they take their time saying their goodbyes to you – but he feels it all slip away when Jake and Sunoo give him a knowing look, offering to clean up and that he should go ahead and walk you home, if he'd like.

He doesn't care about what their eyes say when he gently pulls you into his room, kissing you against the door. He holds himself back as you make it a point to move the two of you towards his bed, asking if you want to get into something more comfortable. His mind runs as you pull on a pair of his pajama pants, your top half covered by one of his old band shirts before you slide back into his bed with him, your thighs settled on either side of him as his fingers hold your hips flush to his. He lets you kiss him, bunching his shirt in your fists as his fingers breach the hem of your shirt, your skin warm to the touch.

He couldn't ask for anything better, even as he checks the clock and it reads ten minutes to midnight.

MONDAY, 12:00AM.

"Be my girlfriend."

"I don't even have a shirt on, Jungwon. You couldn't wait?" "No. Be my girlfriend, please. We can go on a date later."

You roll your eyes, "Okay, fine. I'll be your girlfriend."

"At least act like you like me, will you?" He scoffs, his teeth nipping at your belly. You jolt, swatting the top of his head with a scowl.

"I do like you! I'm literally your girlfriend!" You huff, and he can't help but smile into your skin, before moving back up to hover over you. He moves your hair off your face, before holding your chin in his fingers with a soft smile. "Stop looking at me like you want to eat me." "I can just eat you, instead." He presses a kiss to your lips, your arms moving to wrap loosely around his neck. He allows it, deepening the kiss and snaking his hand down to the waistband of your sweatpants, pulling the drawstring undone in one go. "Is that okay?" "Hurry up, boyfriend."

VALENTINE'S DAY, 4:32PM.

"Why baby blue?" You look up from your desk, seeing your boyfriend toying with a baby blue piece of ribbon from the shop. You'd stopped by the shop earlier that day because your father told you Jaehee was going to be late, and you went for an hour while she arrived. You'd brought Jungwon a bag of chocolate almonds and a singular piece of raspberry swirl bubblegum, one that he was blowing into a bubble now.

"Hm?" "The ribbon, babe. You never let me pick, you just use this color. Why?" You set your pen down, pursing your lips as you turn in your chair. He's got his textbooks laid out on the floor, sitting back on his hands as he looks up at you expectantly. You sigh, tapping your foot as you run a hand through your hair. "You came into the shop after you got your lip pierced during freshman year, and you got a bag of nothing but caramel apple suckers. You were wearing this baby blue sweater that said Girls Don't Cry in red thread across the front, and you were wearing that same sweater the first time we met. The color just reminds me of you, and I love that sweater on you." You shrug, watching as your boyfriend tongues the silver ring in his lip.

"You've never told me if you like it or not." He says pointedly, touching it lightly with his forefinger. You lean forward in your chair, your fingers gripping the edge of it as you smile.

"There's a lot of things I like about you, Won. I can definitely show you better than I can tell you, though." You wink, making his cheeks flush lightly. He doesn't respond, opting to look back down at his textbooks until you reach down and close one of them. He gapes up at you, but can't find the words to say anything as you slip off the chair, closing all of them one by one as you get closer to him. You push his knees down, opting to straddle him, his hands sliding up your thighs to rest on your hips.

"We need to study." He reminds you quietly, watching your face as you run your hands through his hair.

"Remember I said we could do whatever you want this weekend?" "...I feel like this is a trap." You laugh, pressing a soft kiss to his hairline. "No trap. Do you want to study?"

He sighs, plucking the hem of your shirt out from where it's tucked into your pants. He rests his forehead on your collarbone, groaning into your chest. "Y/N, I need to study."

"We can study later, baby." "But I'm a pervert, huh?" He scoffs, and you hold back your laughter in an attempt to seem upset.

"Fine. I'll just go back to ignoring you at my desk."

You move to get off his lap, but he shakes his head, holding onto the hem of your shirt. "No need for all that, angel. Just get this off for me." "Pervert." "Oh, come on!"

378 notes · View notes

elryuse · 2 days ago

Note

May I request a fluffy smut Le Sserafim Sakura x Male Reader where Kkura stumbles upon a small, cozy café owned and run by the reader, where she often seeks and finds the comfort and support in the reader, seeking solace from the hateful comments she has received throughout her career. Eventually, they develop a special relationship and become a couple. Thanks :) Im not good with plots but this is the best i can think off :(

Our Beloved Summer

Sakura X Male Reader

Tags : Fluff, Fluffy Sex, Romantic, Lovey Dovey, Sweaty, Steamy Sex, Kissing, Public Sex, Love Words : 4,403 Words

A/n : Aww don't Worry bud, Your plot is Good for this type of Fluffy Smut Stories. Keep Up The Good work. Hope You All Like it.

The bell above the café door jingled softly, breaking the quiet hum of the afternoon. You looked up from polishing the counter to see her—Sakura. She hesitated at the entrance, her usual vibrant energy replaced by a heavy slump in her shoulders. Her face, usually bright with a smile, was shadowed, her eyes downcast. She looked… lost. You straightened, your heart tugging at the sight.

“Welcome,” you said warmly, your voice carrying a lightness you hoped would reach her. Her head snapped up, startled, and for a moment, she just stared at you, as if she hadn’t expected anyone to notice her.

You chuckled softly, leaning slightly against the counter. “What can I get for you today?”

She blinked, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the strap of her bag. “I… I’m not sure.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying her. “How about something warm? A latte, maybe? Or… something sweet to lift your spirits?”

Her lips pressed together, and for a moment, it looked like she might cry. But she nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Latte sounds good.”

You smiled, though your chest ached for her. “Coming right up.”

As you worked on her drink, you couldn’t help but glance her way. She sat at a corner table, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, her gaze fixed on the tabletop. You remembered her—the cheerful, radiant Sakura from Le Sserafim. The one who had always seemed to light up the stage. But lately… the internet had been relentless. The criticism, the ridicule. It had been impossible to miss.

When her latte was ready, you carried it over to her, placing it gently on the table. “Here you go. On the house.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she looked up at you, confusion flickering across her face. “Why?”

You shrugged, your smile softening. “Because everyone deserves a little kindness, especially on a hard day.”

She stared at you for a moment, her lips parting as if to say something, but no words came. Instead, she nodded, her eyes glistening. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

You gave her a gentle nod before returning to the counter, giving her space. But you couldn’t help noticing the way her shoulders seemed to relax, just a little, as she took a sip of the latte.

Over the next few weeks, Sakura became a regular at the café. At first, she was quiet, reserved, staying in her corner with her latte. But gradually, she began to open up. She started with small talk, asking about your day, your café. Then, one afternoon, she stayed longer than usual, and the conversation deepened.

“It’s just… it’s so hard,” she admitted, her voice trembling as she stared into her half-empty cup. “I try to stay strong, but the comments… they hurt. And the pressure… sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe.”

You listened, your heart aching for her. “You’re allowed to feel that way,” you said softly. “It doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.”

She looked up at you, her eyes searching yours, as if she were trying to find the truth in your words. And then, slowly, she smiled—a small, fragile smile, but a smile nonetheless.

From that day on, Sakura began to visit more often. She brought her members with her sometimes—Chaewon, Yunjin, Eunchae, and Kazuha. They were a lively group, filling the café with laughter and warmth. But it was Sakura who always lingered, who always seemed to gravitate toward you.

One evening, as the summer heat began to wane and the café was quiet, Sakura appeared at the door. Her expression was serious, her usual warmth replaced by a quiet intensity. She walked straight to the counter, her eyes locked on yours.

“I need to talk to you,” she said, her voice lower than usual, almost urgent.

You nodded, stepping out from behind the counter. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”

She hesitated, her fingers twisting together. “I… I don’t know how to say this.”

You placed a hand gently on her shoulder, offering her a reassuring smile. “Take your time.”

She took a deep breath, her eyes closing for a moment. And then, before you could react, she stepped forward, her lips meeting yours in a kiss that was both hesitant and desperate. Your breath caught, your mind racing, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, your hands found her waist, pulling her closer as she deepened the kiss, her fingers tangling in your shirt.

When she finally pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, her breath uneven. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I needed to know… if you felt the same.”

You stared at her, your heart pounding. “Sakura…”

She shook her head, cutting you off. “Please. I need you. I want this. I want you.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and without thinking, you leaned in, capturing her lips in another kiss. This time, it was fiercer, more urgent, as if all the unspoken feelings between you were finally breaking free. Your hands roamed her body, exploring the curves you’d only admired from afar, while her nails dug into your back, pulling you closer still.

“Take me somewhere private,” she whispered against your lips, her voice trembling with need.

You nodded, your mind hazy with desire. Grabbing her hand, you led her to the employee-only room, the door shutting behind you with a soft click. The room was small, intimate, and in the dim light, Sakura looked even more breathtaking.

She turned to you, her hands reaching for the hem of her top. “Help me,” she murmured, her eyes dark with hunger.

You stepped forward, your fingers trembling as you helped her out of her clothes, your breath catching as her bare skin was revealed. She was beautiful—every inch of her was perfection. And as your hands explored her body, she let out a soft moan, her head falling back as she leaned into your touch.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” she whispered, her voice shaky as your lips found her neck, trailing kisses down to her collarbone. “I’ve wanted you.”

Your hands found her breasts, your thumbs brushing over her nipples, and she gasped, her body arching into your touch. “You’re incredible,” you murmured against her skin, your voice rough with desire. “So beautiful.”

She tugged at your shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons. “I need to feel you,” she breathed, her voice desperate. “Please.”

You shrugged out of your shirt, your skin burning where it touched hers. And then you were kissing her again, your hands roaming her body, exploring every inch of her as if you couldn’t get enough. Her moans filled the small room, sending waves of heat through you, and you knew you couldn’t hold back much longer.

“Are you sure?” you asked, your voice low as you looked into her eyes.

She nodded, her hands gripping your shoulders. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

With that, you lifted her, her legs wrapping around your waist as you moved toward the small couch in the corner. Her back hit the cushions, and you followed her down, your lips finding hers once more as your hands explored her body. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, and you knew she was close.

“I need you inside me,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she reached for you.

You nodded, your own need overwhelming as you positioned yourself at her entrance. And then, with a slow, deliberate movement, you pushed into her, her body tightening around you as she let out a gasp.

“You feel so good,” she moaned, her nails digging into your back as you began to move.

You groaned, the sensation overwhelming as you thrust into her, her body responding eagerly to yours. Her moans grew louder, more urgent, and you knew she was close.

“Say my name,” she whispered, her voice shaking as she looked up at you.

“Sakura,” you breathed, your voice rough with desire.

She gasped, her body trembling as she reached her climax, her nails digging into your back as she moaned your name. And then you were following her over the edge, your own release crashing over you as you held her close, your bodies trembling together in the aftermath.

As you lay there, tangled together, her head resting on your chest, you knew this was only the beginning. And as her fingers traced patterns on your skin, you couldn’t help but wonder what the future held for you both.

“I don’t want this to end,” she whispered, her voice soft but filled with determination.

You looked down at her, your heart swelling with affection. “It doesn’t have to,” you replied, your fingers brushing through her hair.

She looked up at you, her eyes searching yours. “Promise me,” she said, her voice trembling. “Promise me this is real.”

You leaned down, capturing her lips in a gentle kiss. “I promise,” you murmured against her lips.

And as she melted into your embrace, you knew this was just the beginning of something beautiful.

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, as you and Sakura walked hand in hand along the riverside. The gentle breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers, and the soft sound of the water flowing created a serene backdrop. You had planned this day for weeks, wanting to give Sakura a moment of peace away from the relentless chaos of her life as a K-pop idol.

“This place is beautiful,” Sakura whispered, her eyes scanning the picturesque view. Her grip on your hand tightened slightly, a small sign of her lingering nervousness.

You glanced at her, your heart swelling at the sight of her delicate features softened by the golden light. “I’m glad you like it,” you said, your voice warm and reassuring. “I wanted to make sure you got to breathe for once. No cameras, no schedules, just us.”

She smiled faintly, but you could see the hesitation in her eyes. “It’s just… I’m not used to this. Being able to relax, to just… be. Everyone’s always watching, always expecting something from me.”

You stopped walking and turned to face her, your hands gently cupping her cheeks. “Sakura, you don’t have to be anyone but yourself with me. No expectations, no judgments. Just you.” Your thumbs brushed lightly over her skin, and you felt her lean slightly into your touch.

Her eyes searched yours, and for a moment, it was as if the world around you faded away. Slowly, her lips curved into a genuine smile. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely audible above the rustling leaves. “For everything.”

You bent down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Always,” you whispered against her skin.

She sighed, a contented sound that made your heart skip a beat. Then, without warning, she closed the distance between you, her lips meeting yours in a kiss that was both tender and filled with unspoken emotions. Your hands slid down to her waist, pulling her closer as she clung to you, her fingers tangling in the fabric of your shirt.

When you finally pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled with something deeper than happiness. “I love you,” she said, her voice trembling but firm. “I don’t want to hide it anymore. I want you to be my boyfriend.”

Her words sent a wave of warmth through you, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. “I love you too, Sakura. More than anything.”

She let out a breath she seemed to have been holding, her shoulders relaxing as if a weight had been lifted. “I was so scared to say it,” she admitted, her voice soft. “But being with you… it feels right. It feels like I’ve finally found where I belong.”

You brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, your gaze never leaving hers. “You’re my home now, Sakura. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Her smile widened, and she leaned in to kiss you again, this time with more urgency. Her lips moved against yours with a hunger that mirrored your own, and you could feel the heat building between you. Your hands roamed her back, pulling her even closer as her fingers traced the line of your jaw.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Sakura rested her forehead against yours, her eyes closed as she tried to steady her breathing. “Take me somewhere private,” she whispered, her voice husky with desire.

You didn’t need to be told twice. Taking her hand, you led her to a secluded spot beneath the shade of a large tree, a blanket already laid out for the picnic you had planned. The moment you knelt down, she was on you, her hands tugging at your shirt as her lips found yours again.

“Sakura,” you gasped between kisses, your fingers fumbling with the buttons of her blouse. “Are you sure—”

“I’ve never been more sure,” she interrupted, her voice firm despite the way her hands trembled. “I want this. I want you.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and you quickly discarded her blouse, revealing the soft, delicate skin beneath. Your lips trailed down her neck, eliciting a soft moan from her as she arched into your touch. Her hands pulled at your shirt, and soon it was tossed aside, your bare chest pressed against hers.

The warmth of her skin against yours was intoxicating, and you couldn’t resist the urge to explore every inch of her. Your hands cupped her breasts, your thumbs brushing over her nipples, already hardened with desire. She gasped, her hips bucking against yours as you leaned down to take one of them into your mouth.

“Yes,” she moaned, her fingers tangling in your hair as you teased her with your tongue. Her breaths came in short, shallow gasps, and you could feel her heartbeat racing beneath your palm.

When you finally pulled away, her chest was heaving, and her eyes were dark with need. “Please,” she whispered, her hands reaching for the waistband of your pants. “I need you.”

You captured her lips in a searing kiss as you helped her remove the rest of your clothes, your hands trembling with anticipation. When you were both naked, you paused for a moment, taking in the sight of her beneath you. She was breathtaking, her body bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, her eyes filled with a mix of love and desire.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured, your voice thick with emotion.

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t look away. “So are you,” she replied, her hands reaching up to cup your face. “Now, please… don’t make me wait any longer.”

You positioned yourself between her legs, your hand guiding your length to her entrance. She was already wet, her body ready for you, and when you slowly pushed inside, she let out a soft cry of pleasure. Her walls clenched around you, so tight and warm that it took every ounce of control you had not to lose yourself right then.

“God, you feel amazing,” you groaned, your forehead resting against hers as you began to move.

Her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you deeper as she matched your rhythm. Her moans were music to your ears, each one driving you closer to the edge. Her hands roamed your back, her nails lightly scraping your skin as she clung to you.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with the force of her emotions. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you replied, your voice rough with desire. “Always.”

Her hips bucked against yours, her body trembling as she chased her release. You could feel her walls tightening around you, and when she finally came, her cry of pleasure echoed in the quiet evening air. Her orgasm pushed you over the edge, and with a deep groan, you spilled inside her, your bodies trembling together as you rode out the waves of pleasure.

When you finally collapsed beside her, both of you were breathless and sweaty, but there was a sense of contentment that settled over you. She curled up against your side, her head resting on your chest as your fingers traced lazy patterns on her arm.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice soft but filled with emotion. “For making me feel safe. For making me feel loved.”

You pressed a kiss to the top of her head, your arms tightening around her. “You never have to thank me for that, Sakura. I’ll always be here for you.”

She sighed, a contented sound that made your heart swell. But then, she shifted, propping herself up on her elbow to look at you. Her eyes were serious, and there was something in her gaze that made your breath catch.

“I want more of this,” she said, her voice steady. “More of us. No more hiding, no more pretending. I want the world to know that you’re mine.”

You reached up to brush a strand of hair from her face, your heart pounding in your chest. “Are you sure? Your career… your fans… it won’t be easy.”

She shook her head, her expression determined. “I don’t care. I’m tired of living for everyone else. I want to live for us. For me. And I want you by my side while I do it.”

You were about to respond, to tell her that you’d stand by her no matter what, when she leaned in, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that was filled with promise. Her body pressed against yours, and you could feel the heat building between you once again.

“Sakura,” you murmured against her lips, your hands already roaming her body again.

“Just kiss me,” she whispered, her voice breathless. “And don’t stop.”

And so you did, losing yourself in the taste of her lips, the feel of her skin, and the sound of her moans. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in each other’s arms as the sun dipped below the horizon.

But even as the night fell, you knew that this was just the beginning of your story together. And nothing could take that away from you.

“I’m yours,” you whispered against her lips, your voice rough with emotion. “Always.”

The air between you and Sakura was thick with desire, her body pressed against yours as she fumbled with the key to her dorm room. Her breath hitched as the door finally clicked open, and she pulled you inside with a urgency that made your heart race. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of fairy lights casting a warm, intimate ambiance.

Sakura wasted no time. Her lips crashed against yours, hungry and insatiable, as her hands roamed over your chest, tugging at your shirt. You responded in kind, your hands sliding down her back to cup her ass, pulling her closer until there was no space left between you. Her moan was muffled by your kiss, but the sound sent a jolt of heat straight to your core.

“I need you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need as she pulled away just enough to lock eyes with you. Her gaze was dark, filled with a raw intensity that made your knees weak. “Right now.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Your hands moved to the hem of her dress, lifting it over her head in one swift motion. She stood before you in nothing but a delicate lace bra and panties, her body trembling with anticipation. You couldn’t help but marvel at how breathtaking she looked, her skin glowing in the soft light, her curves begging to be touched.

You leaned in, capturing her lips in another searing kiss as your hands explored every inch of her. She moaned into your mouth, her fingers digging into your shoulders as you trailed kisses down her neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, her body arching into yours as you reached around to unclasp her bra.

The moment it fell away, you pulled back to take her in. Her breasts were perfect, perky and inviting, her nipples already hard with arousal. You couldn’t resist. Leaning down, you took one into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the sensitive bud as she let out a soft cry. Your hands cupped her other breast, kneading it gently as you continued to lavish attention on her.

“Oh god,” she moaned, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pressed you closer. “Don’t stop.”

You had no intention of stopping. Your hands moved down her body, slipping beneath the waistband of her panties to find her already wet and ready for you. She gasped as you slid a finger inside her, her body trembling as you began to move. Her hips rocked against your hand, her moans growing louder with each thrust.

“Please,” she begged, her voice barely above a whisper. “I need you inside me.”

You didn’t need to be asked twice. You lifted her into your arms, carrying her to the bed and laying her down gently. She watched you with hungry eyes as you stripped off your clothes, her hands reaching for you the moment you were free. Her touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine as she guided you between her legs.

The moment you entered her, it was like coming home. Her body welcomed you, tight and warm, and you couldn’t hold back the groan that escaped your lips. Her nails dug into your back as you began to move, her hips meeting yours with each thrust. The room was filled with the sound of your bodies moving together, her moans mingling with your growls of pleasure.

She wrapped her legs around your waist, pulling you deeper as her head fell back against the pillows. “Faster,” she begged, her voice desperate. “Please, faster.”

You obliged, picking up the pace as her cries grew louder. Her hands moved to her breasts, pinching and teasing her nipples as she writhed beneath you. The sight of her, lost in pleasure, was enough to push you closer to the edge. But you weren’t ready to finish yet.

You pulled out, earning a whimper of protest from her, but you quickly silenced it by flipping her onto her stomach. Her ass was raised in the air, inviting, and you couldn’t resist giving it a light smack before guiding yourself back inside her. She let out a loud moan, her hands gripping the sheets as you began to thrust into her again.

The new angle seemed to drive her wild, her cries growing more frantic with each movement. You leaned over her, your lips brushing against her ear as you whispered, “You feel so good, Sakura. So fucking good.”

She moaned in response, her body trembling as she neared the edge. You could feel her tightening around you, her walls clenching as she reached her climax. Her cries echoed through the room, her body shaking with the intensity of her release.

But you weren’t done. You flipped her onto her back again, her legs wrapping around your waist as you continued to thrust into her. Her hands moved to your face, pulling you down for a searing kiss as her hips rocked against yours.

“I’m close,” you groaned, your body trembling with the effort to hold back. “Where do you want me to finish?”

“Inside me,” she begged, her voice desperate. “Please, I want to feel you.”

It was all the encouragement you needed. With a final thrust, you buried yourself deep inside her, your release flooding her as she cried out in pleasure. Her body trembled beneath you, her nails digging into your back as you both rode out the waves of your climax.

When it was over, you collapsed onto the bed beside her, both of you panting and covered in sweat. She turned to you, a soft smile on her lips as she cuddled up against your side. Her hand rested on your chest, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. “For everything.”

You pressed a kiss to her forehead, your arms wrapping around her as she nestled closer. The silence that followed was comfortable, the kind that only comes when two people are completely at ease with each other.

But the moment was short-lived. The sound of the door opening startled you both, and Sakura’s eyes widened in horror as Chaewon stepped into the room.

“Sakura, I—” Chaewon’s words died on her lips as she took in the scene before her. Sakura’s scream of embarrassment echoed through the room as she grabbed the blanket to cover herself.

“Chaewon!” she shrieked, her face burning red as she tried to hide behind the blanket.

But Chaewon didn’t look angry. If anything, she looked amused. A slow smirk spread across her face as she took in the sight of the two of you before turning to call over her shoulder.

“Guys, you’re not gonna believe this!”

Sakura groaned, burying her face in your chest as the other members of Le Sserafim filed into the room, their laughter filling the air.

“Well, well, well,” Yunjin teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Looks like someone’s been busy.”

Eunchae giggled, covering her mouth with her hand as she tried to stifle her laughter. Kazuha, ever the calm one, simply shook her head with a small smile.

“Take care of her,” Chaewon said, her tone softening as she looked at you with a knowing smile. “For us.”

And with that, they left, closing the door behind them as their laughter echoed down the hallway. Sakura groaned again, burying her face in your chest as you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Well,” you said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “That was unexpected.”

“I’m never going to live this down,” she muttered, her voice muffled by your chest.

But as she looked up at you, a small smile tugged at her lips. And in that moment, you knew that no matter what came next, you would face it together.

#kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #update #kpop smut #sakura #lesserafim #le sserafim #lesserafim sakura #sakura miyawaki #miyawaki sakura smut #lesserafim smut #sakura smut #vanilla sex #lovey dovey #couple

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heartsriki · 2 days ago

Text

CUPID'S CHAOS ⌇화살

FLIRT ALERT! series⌇Lee Heeseung | next

pairing ᝰ heeseung x fem!reader

— featuring.. n/a | word count: 4k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ college au, fluff, bickering, misunderstandings, obliviousness, 2000’s rom com vibe, kisses, pet name use (?), reader is a writer!

synopsis — You accidentally become the campus’s cupid, delivering love letters to everyone— no exception to the one meant for Heeseung even though you had the biggest crush on him. When he asks for help finding his secret admirer, You scramble to keep your own feelings hidden… until you realize that love letter was your own.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊I’m not sure if I like this but… I hope you guys do… guys fair warning these oneshots will be extremely corny and fluffy but its valentines month so i cant control it fr! MY FIRST HEESEUNG FIC WHO CHEERED, also happy birthday jw my baby :(

Seriously just what did you get yourself into?

The first incident or “love letter” arrived onto your doorstep on a random Wednesday. It was just a soft pink envelope sealed with a heart-shaped sticker. At first, you thought it was for you until you saw the name of the girl in your english class. Maybe someone had the wrong dorm number. But when another letter shows up the next day, and then another, you start to realize two things:

1. Someone on campus has a serious crush problem.

2. You have somehow become their personal delivery service.

By Friday, you had a whole collection of letters meant for people you barely know. With no better plan, you start slipping them into the correct mailbox, dropping them onto desks, and handing them off with a whispered, “This is for you.”

Before you know it, people started calling you the ‘Campus Cupid’.

It’s kind of fun—watching couples get together, seeing people’s eyes light up when they read something sweet. That is, until you find his letter.

Lee Heeseungs letter. The guy with the lazy smile and unfairly good hair. The guy who always seems to be exactly where you don’t need him to be. The guy you have been crushing on way more than you meant to.

It was no surprise that he would get sent a letter. He was the darling of the campus, he was a charmer, talented in sports and without a doubt extremely handsome.

You examined the letter. It was morally right to give it to him… right?

Frowning, you place the letter in his usual seat. Just because you liked him didn’t mean you can take his right of knowing that someone else does.

The day passes without you thinking too much about the letter you placed on Heeseung’s desk. Or at least, you try not to think about it. It’s not like it matters, right? Someone else likes him. No big deal.

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

But then, right after your afternoon lecture, Heeseung finds you outside the lecture hall, love letter in hand.

“Hey, Cupid.” His voice is casual, but there’s a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. He holds up the letter between two fingers. “Any idea who wrote this?”

Your heart stops.

You stare at the letter, forcing yourself to keep calm. You knew this would happen. Of course, Heeseung would be curious. You should just tell him you don’t know. That’s what you should do.

But something about the way he’s looking at you makes you hesitate.

Frowning, you take the letter from his hands, pretending to examine it like if you hadn’t stared at it for hours before handing it to him. But when you open it and your eyes scan the page, confusion settles in.

There’s no name. No initials. Nothing.

That’s strange. Most of the letters you’ve delivered always had at least a tiny clue. An initial, a signature, sometimes even a number with a name.

“What’s with that look? You must’ve seen who gave it to you, no?” Heeseung asks, raising a brow.

You look back at the letter, skimming over the heart felt words. It was weird intruding someone’s feelings like this but with Heeseungs intense stare you couldn’t say no. The letter said:

I don’t know when it started, but you’ve always been there. In the background, in the crowd, just close enough to notice, but never close enough to reach. It’s frustrating, liking someone like this. Sometimes I wish I never met you in that cafe because now you’re all I ever think about, I hope I can confront you someday.

Your stomach twists.

The handwriting. The way certain letters are slanted. The way some words are scratched out and rewritten.

It’s… familiar.

Too familiar.

Your breath catches.

Oh.

Oh no.

It was yours.

See, the first time you met Heeseung, it wasn’t in a lecture hall or at some college party—it was at a small cafe just off campus, the kind of place students flocked to for overpriced lattes and last-minute study sessions.

You had been there first, tucked into a corner seat with your laptop open and a half-empty cup of coffee beside you. The cafe was packed, the usual rush of students scrambling for caffeine before their next class, and you were too focused on your work to notice him walk in.

That is, until you heard a voice—smooth, slightly out of breath—directed at you.

“Hey, is this seat taken?”

You looked up, and that was the first time you saw Lee Heeseung up close.

Messy brown hair, a hoodie thrown over a plain t-shirt, dark eyes filled with something playful yet sleepy at the same time. You recognized him vaguely—he was in one of your general electives, though he always sat near the back, half-hidden behind his laptop. He was the kind of guy people noticed without him even trying, whether it was because of his reputation on the basketball team or just the effortless way he carried himself.

And now, he was standing in front of you, waiting for an answer.

You blinked. “Oh, um—no, go ahead.”

“Thanks,” he said, sliding into the chair across from you. He set down his coffee cup, then pulled out a notebook, flipping through the pages lazily. “You’re in my media studies class, right?”

You hadn’t expected him to recognize you, much less strike up a conversation.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “I sit near the front.”

“Right, that’s why I never see you,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I usually get there late.”

You let out a small laugh despite yourself. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

For some reason, that seemed to amuse him. Heeseung leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen against his notebook. “So, what’s got you looking so serious? Studying for something?”

You glanced at your laptop screen. “Not exactly. Just… trying to finish an article for the campus paper.”

That caught his interest. “You write for the paper?”

“Kind of. It’s just an opinion column. Nothing major.”

Heeseung tilted his head, considering. “I’ll have to check it out sometime. Maybe I’ll learn something.”

You rolled your eyes, but you could feel your face growing warm. Heeseung had this way of making everything sound lighthearted, but there was something about the way he was looking at you—like he actually meant it—that made your stomach flip.

You didn’t know it then, but that moment—him sitting across from you in a crowded cafe, lazily flipping through his notes while keeping light conversations, smiling at you like you were the only person worth paying attention to—that was the moment it started.

The quiet, unshakable feeling of a new beginning forming.

You blink rapidly, snapping back to reality, only to find Heeseung staring at you with a curious tilt of his head.

“You good?” He waves a hand in front of your face, and you realize you’ve been gripping the letter like it personally offended you.

“Yeah!” You blurt out, a little too quickly. “Fine. Super fine.”

Heeseung narrows his eyes, but instead of questioning your suspicious expressions, he leans against the wall next to you, arms crossed, the picture of casual confidence. “So? Any idea who my secret admirer is?”

Your stomach does a full gymnastics routine.

Yeah, actually, it’s me. Surprise!

Obviously, you can’t say that.

You force a laugh, shoving the letter back into his hands like it’s a ticking time bomb. “No clue! There are so many love letters I deal with around campus, you know? Could be anyone.”

Heeseung mockingly pouted. “Come on, Cupid. If anyone can figure it out, it’s you.”

You freeze. Oh no.

Heeseung grins, nudging your arm playfully. “Please? be my lead detective I need to know who has this much of a crush on me.”

You stare at him, trying not to look as horrified as you feel. He’s practically pleading, eyes shining with excitement. He wants to know. He’s curious.

And you?

You want the earth to swallow you whole.

But instead, you swallow down your panic and give him your most confident, totally-not-dying-inside smile. “Yeah, sure! I’ll, uh… I’ll let you know if I figure it out.”

Great. Now you’re investigating your own love letter.

Romcoms make this look so much easier.

In your defense, the love letter was never supposed to see the light of day.

It had been one of those late-night, caffeine-fueled brain dumps—the kind where your emotions got the best of you, and instead of focusing on your essay due at midnight, you had decided, hey, why not write a dramatic love confession you’ll never actually send?

It started off as a joke. A harmless what if?

What if you had the guts to tell Heeseung how you felt?

What if you weren’t just the campus Cupid, but actually someone worth writing about?

What if, for once, you weren’t just the messenger in everyone else’s love stories?

So, you had poured your heart onto the page. You wrote about how frustrating it was, liking someone from a distance—watching him laugh in the campus café, seeing him glide effortlessly through every class, always just out of reach. You let yourself be honest, because no one was ever supposed to read it.

And then? You stuffed it into your notebook, forgot about it, and went about your life like it never happened.

Until now.

Now, it was in Heeseung’s hands just because you thought it was written by someone else, and now you were stuck in the worst romcom of all time—investigating your own love letter while trying desperately to keep your crush a secret.

Honestly?

You were so, so doomed.

“So, what do you think?”

You try to keep your face neutral as Heeseung waves the letter in front of you, looking more confused than anything.

“About… what?” You ask cautiously.

“This.” He gestures to the paper. “The letter. My so-called ‘secret admirer.’”

Your spoke before you could stop yourself. “So…you figure out who it is. What happens then?”

He thinks, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, i’ll turn them down, it’s really flattering but it’s also kind of a hassle.”

A hassle?

You force out a laugh, even as your stomach twists into knots. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad. Someone clearly put a lot of thought into this.”

“That’s the problem.” Heeseung exhales sharply. “I wasn’t expecting this. Im interested in someone else, and now I have to figure out how to let this person down without making things awkward.”

Your face heats up. You want to disappear.

“So, you’re not interested in them…? You like someone already?” You ask hesitantly, barely able to get the words out.

Heeseung shakes his head. “I don’t even know who they are. But I hope they don’t take it the wrong way, Y’know?”

You stare at him, pulse pounding in your ears.

He has no idea.

And now? You definitely can’t confess.

Not when you already know his answer.

And if there was one thing worse than knowing Heeseung didn’t want a relationship, it was actively helping him investigate your own confession.

Every day, he’d bring up new theories about who could’ve written the letter, and every day, you’d have to nod along, pretending to be just as clueless.

At first, it wasn’t so bad. Heeseung didn’t seem to be taking it too seriously, mostly brushing it off whenever it came up. But as the days passed, something shifted… just slightly.

“Okay, so hear me out,” Heeseung said, leaning against the bookshelf beside you. The library was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of papers and muffled whispers. “What if it’s someone from one of my classes?”

You kept your eyes on your laptop screen, pretending to focus on your assignment. “You already went through that theory. Twice.”

“Yeah, but I was thinking—what if they’re too nervous to say anything in person? What if it’s, like… someone who sits far away from me?”

You bit your lip. “And yet, you’re still expecting me to figure it out?”

“Well, you’re good at reading people.” Heeseung grinned, nudging your arm. “You always seem to know what’s going on with everyone.”

Your heart stuttered. If only he knew just how right he was.

Heeseung sighed, folding his arms over his chest. “I don’t get it. They wrote all this deep, meaningful stuff, but they didn’t sign their name. What’s the point of confessing if you don’t want the person to know?”

You swallowed hard. “Maybe they were scared.”

Heeseung tilted his head slightly, looking at you in that way that always made you feel like he could see through you. “Scared of what?”

You hesitated. “Of ruining what they already have.”

His expression shifted. “You think they know me?”

You forced a shrug. “Probably. Why else would they write all that?”

Something flickered in his gaze, something unreadable. He held your gaze for a second too long before clearing his throat. “Huh. I never really thought about it like that.”

You turned back to your screen, desperate to focus on anything else. But then Heeseung moved closer, his arm brushing against yours as he leaned in to look at your laptop.

“What are you even working on?” he asked, voice quieter now, like the space between you had shrunk to something more intimate.

You could barely think straight. “Just… an essay.”

“Hm.” He didn’t sound convinced.

His voice was too close. His scent—clean, with a hint of something warm—was too distracting. It was stupid, so stupid, how easily he got under your skin without even trying.

The next few days started to get a little weird.

Heeseung had always been playful, always teasing and leaning in too close, but now it felt… different.

It was in the way he started remembering the little things—how you liked your coffee, how you tapped your fingers when you were thinking, how you always fixed your hair when you were nervous.

It was in the way he kept looking at you, his gaze lingering a little too long before he caught himself.

It was in the way his teasing changed—less casual, more intentional. Like he wanted to see how you’d react.

And then, one night, things got dangerous.

You were in his dorm, flipping through the list of names you had pretended to compile for the investigation. Heeseung sat on the floor beside you, his laptop balanced on his knees, absentmindedly chewing on a pen cap as he read through the letter again.

“You know…” he said, tilting his head, “whoever wrote this is actually really good with words.”

Your blinked. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s, like… weirdly personal.” He frowned slightly, scanning the page. “I feel how much they mean it.”

You held your breath.

He let out a soft laugh. “Honestly, it kinda sounds like your writing.”

Your heart stopped.

Your head snapped up so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. “What?”

Heeseung blinked at you, startled. “I mean—you’re good at writing, right? I read your papers, You’ve always been good with words.”

He reads your papers?

You forced out a laugh, hoping he couldn’t hear the way your voice shook. “Right— Well, I didn’t write it, obviously.”

Heeseung studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to your horror, he smirked.

“Why do you look so guilty?”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I’m literally just existing, Heeseung. Shut up.”

He laughed, but there was something behind his eyes that made your stomach flip—something like curiosity. “Stop freaking out im just kidding.”

The investigation had led you and Heeseung all over campus, following false leads, and ultimately getting nowhere. You had been walking back toward the dorms when the sky, clear just moments ago, suddenly turned gray.

And then—of course—it started to rain.

Hard.

“Are you serious?” you groaned, pulling your jacket over your head as you and Heeseung ran toward the nearest cover—a small wooden gazebo near the campus library.

You both skidded to a stop under the roof, breathless and drenched. Heeseung shook his head like a wet dog, flinging water everywhere.

“Really?” You scowled, wiping raindrops off your face.

He laughed, ruffling his already-messy hair. “My bad.”

The sound of rain drumming against the roof filled the space between you, the cool breeze making you shiver.

“Here,” Heeseung said, shrugging off his hoodie.

You blinked at him. “What?”

“You’re cold, Cupid” he pointed out, holding the hoodie out to you. “Take it.”

“I’m fine,” you said, crossing your arms.

He scoffed. “Just take it before you get sick.”

You hesitated, but he rolled his eyes and stepped closer, draping the hoodie over your shoulders himself. The warmth of it, of him, surrounded you immediately, and your breath hitched.

You looked up at him, ready to protest, but he was already watching you—his expression unreadable, the usual teasing glint in his eyes nowhere to be found.

“Why do I feel like you’re hiding something from me?” he murmured suddenly.

Your pulse spiked. “What?”

Heeseung tilted his head slightly, studying you in a way that made your stomach twist. “I don’t know. You just…” He trailed off, then shook his head. “Never mind.”

You swallowed hard, clutching the hoodie tighter around you.

The rain kept falling around you, blurring the world outside the gazebo, making this moment feel like it existed outside of everything else—outside of reality, outside of whatever mess you had gotten yourself into.

For a split second, it felt like you weren’t just Heeseung’s reluctant investigation partner. Like you weren’t the person holding onto a secret that could ruin everything.

Like, maybe, he could actually like you back.

But then he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We should probably wait this out before heading back.”

Just like that, the moment passed and you were left standing there in his hoodie, drowning in warmth, drowning in him, pretending you weren’t completely, helplessly falling apart.

After the rain, the campus felt quieter, the usual chatter dampened by the lingering water in the air. You walked alongside Heeseung, both of you with your hoods up, trying to shield yourselves from the leftover drizzle. It was awkward but comfortable — the kind of silence where you weren’t sure if you were supposed to talk or if it was okay just to exist in the same space.

Heeseung was the first to break it. “You know, you really don’t have to walk me all the way back to my dorm. It should be the other way around—.”

You glanced at him, trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. You were worried about your own feelings, and now, Heeseung had a way of making your heart flutter with the smallest of gestures.

“I don’t mind,” you replied quickly, too quickly. “I just figured I should, you know… make sure you’re okay.”

Heeseung chuckled, a low sound that made you feel warm despite the cool rain. “You’re acting kind of weird. Usually, you’re so naggy. I thought I’d never see you get flustered.”

You looked away, trying to hide your face. “I’m not flustered.”

There was a brief pause as Heeseung watched you. His eyes softened, the usual teasing light in them dimming a little. “You’re not fooling me, you know.”

You slowed your pace, nervous now, your heart pounding as you tried to look calm. “I’m not trying to fool anyone.”

“I think you are,” he replied, stepping a little closer, his shoulder brushing yours as the two of you continued walking side by side.

You swallowed hard. The proximity felt different now, more charged. Your voice faltered. “What do you mean?”

Heeseung didn’t respond right away. Instead, he shifted his gaze to the ground, the rain creating ripples on the wet pavement. “It’s just… you’re always so careful with what you say. Always so in control. But sometimes… I wonder if you’re hiding something.”

Your stomach dropped at his words. You glanced over at him, but he wasn’t looking at you. The air between you felt heavier, and the tension seemed to stretch out longer than usual.

“I’m not hiding anything,” you murmured, even though part of you wished he could know the truth — or maybe, just maybe, that he could feel the same way.

Heeseung’s voice was quieter now, his tone almost teasing, but there was something else in it, something deeper. “Then why do you always look at me like that? Like you’re holding back?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What?”

He finally met your eyes, his gaze intense. There was a flicker of something — was it vulnerability? — in his look. “Like you’re scared to let me in. What are you afraid of?”

Your breath hitched. For a split second, you were paralyzed, unsure of how to answer. Was it possible he was starting to see through your walls?

Heeseung’s gaze softened as he noticed the look on your face, sensing something unspoken. He took a step back, offering you a small, reassuring smile. “Maybe I’m just overthinking it. Forget it.”

But you couldn’t forget it. Not now. You could feel the space between the two of you shifting, the weight of his words lingering. Something was different, something had shifted, and you weren’t sure if it was just your heart racing or something more.

For the rest of the walk, neither of you spoke much. But every time your eyes met, it felt like there was a new understanding between you two — a shared secret that neither of you was ready to fully admit, but both were beginning to feel.

It had been a long day, but when you stepped out of your last class, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different. It wasn’t just the cold air or the approaching dusk; something was off, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. That was until you spotted Heeseung standing by the bench outside the library, his gaze fixed on you as if he’d been waiting for a while.

Your heart skipped a beat.

He looked at you for a moment before he spoke. “Cupid, we need to talk.”

A nervous flutter danced in your stomach, and you forced a smile. “Uh, sure. What’s up?”

He took a deep breath, stepping toward you, and you noticed the letter in his hand — the same one you’d written to him, the one that had been slipped anonymously into his mailbox just a few days ago. Your heart pounded in your chest, the realization of what was happening dawning on you.

Heeseung didn’t say anything for a moment, just held the letter between his fingers, glancing down at it. “I know this is from you,” he said quietly, his voice gentle but filled with a soft surprise. “I figured it out after I read it again.”

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. You had hoped, prayed, that he wouldn’t find out this way. But here it was, and you couldn’t avoid it any longer.

“How… How did you know?” you asked, trying to hide the nerves creeping up your voice.

He smiled slightly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “A few things gave it away. The way you worded everything… It just felt like it came from you.”

“Also I found some of your notebooks while we were at your dorm and I matched the handwriting…” He blurted out.

Your heart sank. You had spent so long hoping he wouldn’t realize it was you, but now it seemed impossible to hide the truth.

“I… I’m sorry,” you said, almost embarrassed. “I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. I just… didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to make things awkward between us.”

Heeseung’s expression softened. “Why would it be awkward?”

“Because I’ve liked you for a while, and I didn’t know how to say it,” you admitted, looking down at your shoes. “So I thought if I wrote the letter, I could control it. But then I accidentally gave it to you and everything is just— I don’t know It was never meant to reach you.”

Heeseung’s smile widened, and something about the way he looked at you made your stomach flip. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I kind of wish you’d just told me sooner.”

Your eyes shot up to meet his. “What?”

“I mean it,” he said, stepping a little closer. “I wasn’t expecting it to be you but now that I know… It’s kind of a relief. I’ve been wondering why you’ve been acting so weird around me.”

You blinked, taken aback. “I’ve been acting weird?”

Heeseung laughed softly, his eyes twinkling. “Yeah, you’ve been avoiding me like the plague. Always a little too nervous when we talk.”

You felt a wave of warmth rise to your cheeks. “I didn’t mean to… I just…”

He took another step forward, the distance between the two of you shrinking. “You don’t need to explain. I get it.” He paused for a moment, his eyes meeting yours with an almost teasing glint in them. “Honestly, I’ve kind of had a feeling you liked me. You just never said it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Wait… you knew?”

He grinned. “Not for sure, but I wasn’t completely blind. I just didn’t want to make assumptions.”

A laugh bubbled up from your chest, and you felt your nerves ease a little. The tension that had been building between the two of you melted away, replaced by something lighter, something more familiar.

“So… this doesn’t make things weird?” you asked cautiously, unsure if you were reading him right. The last thing you wanted was to make things uncomfortable.

Heeseung shook his head, his smile softening. “No. Actually, I’m kind of glad. Now I don’t have to turn anyone down because I like someone else.”

Your heart raced as he closed the gap between the two of you, standing only a few inches away. He looked down at the letter in his hand, then back at you, his expression serious but warm. “I don’t think I ever really realized how much I liked you until now. I think I’ve been too caught up in my own head to notice, but hearing this from you? Yeah, I think I feel the same.”

For a moment, everything seemed to pause — the sound of people passing by, the rustling of the leaves in the breeze, even the thumping of your own heartbeat — until Heeseung’s words sank in fully. The shock of it left you speechless, and the only thing you could manage was a soft, almost breathless, “Really?”

He chuckled, the sound light and comforting. “Really. I like you too, Cupid— I mean, Y/N.”

A smile spread across your face, and you couldn’t stop it. Your heart felt lighter than it had in days, as if a weight had been lifted off your chest. You had been so afraid of how things might turn out, but now, with Heeseung standing here in front of you, it felt like everything was falling into place.

Heeseung held the letter out to you, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “You know, you could’ve just told me. But I guess this works too.”

You took the letter from him, glancing down at the words you’d written once more, a smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe it was a bit dramatic. But… I was too scared to just say it. I didn’t want to mess things up.”

He reached for your hand, gently taking it in his. “You didn’t mess anything up, Cupid. You just… made everything clearer.”

And just like that, all the tension and uncertainty you’d been feeling seemed to dissolve. There was no more hiding, no more pretending. You were standing here, with Heeseung, both of you finally understanding the feelings that had been simmering for so long.

“So,” he said after a moment, his voice playful again, “How about we skip the letters next time and just go for a dinner date?”

You laughed, your heart full as you squeezed his hand. “That sounds perfect.”

Heeseung smiled, his gaze soft and filled with something genuine. “Good. Let’s not wait any longer, I really want some ramen.”

And with that, the two of you walked off together, the air between you light, and the promise of something more ahead.

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Dating Heeseung felt like stepping into something familiar but entirely new at the same time. The comfort of your friendship was still there—the teasing, the ease, the way you could talk about anything and everything—but now there was something softer, sweeter, laced between every interaction.

Like right now.

It was late, the two of you curled up on your dorm room floor with a half-finished pizza between you, an old playlist humming softly from your phone. The world outside felt quiet, like this moment only belonged to the two of you. Heeseung was leaning against the bed, his legs stretched out, while you were sitting cross-legged beside him, picking at the crust of your pizza slice.

His hand, which had been resting casually near yours, suddenly slid closer, his fingers tracing the tips of yours absentmindedly. It was such a simple thing, but it sent a shiver up your spine nonetheless.

“So,” Heeseung started, voice slow and teasing. “How’s it feel? Finally dating the guy of your dreams?”

You rolled your eyes, already knowing where this was going. “You’re impossible.”

Heeseung grinned, leaning his head back against the bed. “No, but really. You had a crush on me for so long, and now look at us.” His fingers fully laced with yours now, his touch warm and effortless.

“I wouldn’t say I had a crush that long,” you mumbled, taking a sip of your drink to avoid looking at him.

“Are you kidding? You literally wrote me a love letter.”

Your face burned. “Okay, one letter—”

“One?” Heeseung gasped dramatically, sitting up and turning toward you. “So you’re telling me there aren’t, like, ten versions of that letter somewhere in your notes app?”

You choked. “There absolutely are not.”

“Oh my god.” He laughed, eyes gleaming with amusement. “There are. You rewrote it a bunch of times, didn’t you?”

You covered your face with your hands, groaning. “I am not having this conversation.”

Heeseung was grinning now, having way too much fun at your expense. He reached over, gently prying your hands from your face. “No, no, let’s talk about it. Tell me, how long did it take you to get the perfect wording? Did you, like, pace around your room dramatically?”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “For your information, I wasn’t that dramatic.”

Heeseung smirked. “Mhm. So you didn’t dramatically sigh and go, ‘No, this isn’t right, I need to capture his essence’?”

You picked up a stray piece of crust and chucked it at him. He dodged it easily, laughing as he caught your wrist, pulling you toward him slightly.

“You’re the worst,” you mumbled, but there was no real annoyance behind it.

Heeseung was still grinning, his fingers now playing with yours absentmindedly. “You love it.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I really don’t.”

“You do,” he countered, tugging you even closer until you were practically pressed against his side. His voice dropped, softer now, almost teasing in a different way. “Did you mean everything you said in that letter?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling like all the air had been sucked out of the room. “What if I did?”

Heeseung tilted his head, his gaze locked onto yours, and suddenly, the playful atmosphere melted into something else—something quieter, more intense.

“Then,” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles, “I’d tell you that I think about it a lot.”

You blinked. “You do?”

Heeseung nodded, his expression unusually serious now. “I mean, do you even realize how… nice it is to know someone felt that way about me? And not just anyone—you.” He exhaled, his lips curling into something softer, more affectionate. “I don’t think I ever told you, but when I first read it, before I even knew it was from you, I remember thinking… whoever wrote this really cares about me.”

Your heart was thudding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

“And then,” he continued, “when I found out it was you? It just… it all made sense.”

Your breath hitched slightly. “It did?”

Heeseung hummed in response.

“You’ve always been there,” he said softly. “I just didn’t realize how much I wanted you to be closer.”

You felt your throat tighten, emotion bubbling up in your chest, but before you could even think of a response, Heeseung leaned in, his forehead resting lightly against yours.

His eyes flickered to your lips for just a moment before meeting your gaze again, as if silently asking permission.

You didn’t need to think twice.

Closing the small distance between you, you kissed him.

It was soft, slow—like both of you were still memorizing the feeling. Heeseung sighed against your lips, his hand sliding to your jaw, tilting your face toward him just slightly.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and heart pounding, Heeseung smiled, his forehead still pressed to yours.

“So,” he murmured, eyes twinkling, “if I ask you nicely, do I get to read those other drafts of the letter?”

You groaned, shoving him away playfully. “Absolutely not.”

Heeseung only laughed, pulling you back into his arms with ease. “Fine, fine. But at least let me know—was I always this irresistible in them?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “Shut up, Heeseung.”

He grinned, pressing another soft kiss to your temple. “Love you too.”

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moonchild9350 · 1 day ago

Text

Fair

summary: you and felix will be together no matter where you are in the cosmos

pairing: angel felix x gn!reader

genre: fantasy au, fluff, smut-18+MDNI

word count:1.9k

warnings: unprotected sex (don’t), creampie, use of powers?, they’re it love. that’s it (rare I know)

notes: the conclusion to my angel lixie fixation. A stand alone but once more if you want to read the others I’ve written, they’re linked below!

do not copy, translate, modify, or use this work elsewhere without my permission. ©️moonchild9350 (2025)

If you enjoyed, please comment, reblog, & like :)

divider by @strangergraphics

Your Sweet Angel | Chosen One

You awoke to bright light streaming into the room, the warm rays settling on the bed. You felt like you were floating, the blankets so soft and fluffy, enveloping you like a cloud.

You sat up and stretched, the pull on your muscles nice after lying still all night. As you sat there waking up, you heard a gentle melody drifting through the air and surrounding the small room. It was so ethereal that you felt your heart soar at the song filled with love.

You walked over to the window and gazed out to see the garden, filled with luscious greenery and beautiful flowers that were blooming as springtime has finally come. Looking around you found the source of the beautiful song, your lover who was kneeling down and inspecting the tulips.

He looked so beautiful and peaceful, surrounded by nature, his wings drifting gently in the wind. He was dressed in white silken robes, customary for angels to wear in the cosmos.

Felix is your angel, your savior, your light in the darkness. He came to you years ago and opened your heart to love, planting a seed that laid dormant for years before beginning to bloom upon his return. You returned to his home with him, wanting to spend eternity with your true love, your angel.

Smiling, you padded through the door and down the hall until you stepped outside, the warmth of the sun warming your skin. As you approached Felix, he turned to smile at you as he stood up.

“Hi my love. How did you sleep?” Felix asked as he pulled you into his embrace, his wings wrapping around your body like a blanket.

You snuggled into his chest, breathing in his scent, so soft yet strong and so him.

“Like a baby,” you sighed.

Felix hummed and continued to hold you close and rest his head on top of yours. He’s happy that you’re here with him after so many years of watching you struggle. Your happiness is his priority, has always been and if he had to break the rules of the cosmos to achieve that he will.

“Let’s take a walk,” he said as he pulled back just to grab your hand, his wings tucking into his side.

You both strolled around the garden, basking in the warm sun and listening to the birds chirping happily. You felt like the sparrows and chickadees flying around, singing their song, happy and free. Felix is your happiness, your ray of sunshine on a cloudy day.

He paused for a moment and plucked a flower, tucking the stem behind your ear, smiling as admired the beauty of both you and the flower. Gently, he brushed his fingers down your cheek, watching the flesh turn pink and warm under his touch.

As you stared at Felix, you couldn’t help but admire his freckles, numerous as the stars at night or his beautiful blond hair, framing his face perfectly. You reached for his hand again and pulled him along, wanting to continue on your walk.

“What song were you humming earlier?” You inquired, peering at his face with curiosity.

“A song that we angels have sung for centuries. It brings forth prosperity and happiness to all who are around to hear it.”

You considered his words and their meaning. It was truly a beautiful song and sounded even better with Felix singing it.

“Can you sing it for me?” You asked hopefully.

Felix smiled and opened his mouth and began to sing. His voice rang out over the garden, the melody soft and sweet, and lingering in the air, promising hope and joy. You listened intently, your body feeling light as his song landed on your skin, soaking into the deepest part of you.

You became intoxicated with his voice, warmth spreading through you settling in your core, a feeling only Felix can pull out of you. Little trickles of your arousal dripped into your panties, the cloth becoming wet and sticking to your skin.

Felix sang, projecting his voice so it echoed across the garden, the birds and insects quieting to listen to his words. He could feel the effect he had on you, smell your arousal as your body and mind succumbed to him. He felt his cock fill out within his trousers, the need to be inside you on the forefront of his mind.

The sun moved across the sky, making way for the moon who was peeking out, signaling the close of yet another day. The air became chilly, the wind wrapping around your skin icily, the little hairs sticking up on your skin. Felix noticed, his heart aching as he took in your mortal body and the effects from the cold.

He ceased singing and pulled you gently back in the direction of his home.

“Time to go back love, you’re shivering.”

You simply nodded and followed him, his pace a little faster as he was eager to get you back in the warmth of his home. You encountered no creatures on your way back, as they have retired for the night, preparing for a good nights rest. However, it is the opposite for you two, your hearts beating faster, calling out to each other as your need for each other grows stronger with each step closer to home.

Once you both are back, Felix guides you quickly into the hall, pulling you down toward the bedroom you both shared. He gently grasped your hand tighter in his as he stood in front of you.

His brown eyes gazed at your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and wide eyes twinkling in the dim lighting in the room. You looked ethereal, like an angel yourself in your white gown, the fabric clinging to your curves, and letting him see every part of you that he loves.

Your breath catches as he leans down to capture your lips with his, a kiss that’s soft just as it is sweet. You try to deepen the kiss, but Felix doesn’t allow it, instead he continues to pepper you with his soft lips, kissing you like the delicate feather that you are.

Minutes pass and you feel yourself getting hotter, your chest heaving with each breath, little flutters rippling in your belly and traveling to your core. You whimper as Felix steps away a smirk plastered on his face.

His hands reach out to brush the straps of your gown down your arms, the fabric sliding off easily with little effort until it pools on the floor, your body on display for your lover. Felix smiles and his clothes disappear, your eyes roaming his toned chest until it lands on his cock, hard and leaking all for you.

He sits down on the bed, turning you to face him as he stares at your body, taking you in. His eyes drift to your breasts, your nipples pebbled from the cold air and arousal, a beautiful dusky shade against your skin. They continue their journey down your body, taking in the soft flesh of your belly down, down until he arrives at the little mound of hair he loves so much to your dripping pussy, your folds glistening with your arousal as you stand there before him.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs as he reaches out to you and pulls you down to straddle him.

You settle over him, his cock between your folds. You don’t move, don’t breathe as you run your hands down his chest, the tips of your fingers brushing against his nipples that causes him to groan and his hips to buck into you.

“Take me love, please,” Felix breathes as he gazes at you with hooded eyes.

You swallowed thickly, your hands reaching for his length and lifting your hips up, you slowly sank down, moaning as you take him to the hilt. Felix’s hands grasp your hips and guides your movements, the feel of your walls snug around him driving him insane.

His eyes travel again, watching your breasts bounce with each movement, to your pussy taking him over and over, your slick coating him and sticking to his skin as you bounce up and down.

He closes his eyes briefly before opening them again, not wanting to miss your reactions as you fuck yourself on his cock.

“Ah, Felix…hmm,” you moan as you savor the stretch, how full you feel as you grind against him.

Pleasure spreads throughout your body, nice and warm and tingly, so much so you can barely stay quiet, as you whimper and pant Felix’s name. It’s not enough however, it’s never enough when you fuck him, your mind and body wanting to become one with your lover, so close that you’re a part of his soul.

It’s like Felix can read your mind, your desperation for him as he flips you over onto your back easily before burying himself within you once more. He pushes your legs to your chest so your legs dangle over his shoulders and rocks his hips into yours, shuddering at the feel of you, at how wet you are swallowing him whole.

“My love, my sweet love,” he cooes, grinning as you let out a yelp at how deep he his within you.

“Gonna come,” you sigh as you feel the pressure building in your core, the feeling you only get with Felix as he takes you to ecstasy.

You let go in a flurry of groans, your pussy spasming around his cock, holding him in as your eyes roll to the back of your head. Felix chuckles before pulling out just to slam back in, his high not far behind.

He’s a mess, his hips snapping into yours hard and fast, spurred on by your cries as you claw your hands down his back, fingering his feathers which cause shivers to run through him.

At a particular whine of his name, he lets go, his cum coating your walls. Felix groans as he stills against you, panting as he tries to catch his breath. He’s looks down at you, your hair spread out beautifully on the bed, your face and body coated with a sheen of sweat.

Your eyes are dilated, filled with love as you grasp his arms, your pussy clenching around his ever softening cock. As Felix withdraws, you whimper as a flood of his cum leaks out and onto the sheets below.

It doesn’t take long for Felix to clean you up and the bed as well and before you know it, you’re within his arms, your head resting on his chest as you listen to his besting heart.

“Do you want to go back to the mortal world love,” he asks hesitantly.

He knows he took you away from everything you know and love, what little there was. But he can’t help but be selfish in this moment, hoping you wish to stay with him.

You love this man…or angel. You realized this after the first time you met him. He’s been there for you throughout the years, watching over you and guiding you.

You love Felix.

You would love nothing more than to remain with him, live by his side.

“No, I want to stay with you,” you reply softly, smiling as he squeezes you in acknowledgment.

You are his, just like he is yours. Two hearts bound together through duty and fate. And together you’ll remain in the cosmos, as one.

Human and angel.

taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght @possum-playground @katsukis1wife @my-neurodivergent-world @hanniebaeee @hwanghyunjinismybae @channiesrightasscheek @skzdreamer13

#stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #felix smut #felix x reader #lee felix smut #lee felix x reader #skz smut #skz x reader #stray kids fluff #felix fluff #lee felix fluff #stray kids fanfics #stray kids hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader smut #stray kids

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bratbarzal · 22 hours ago

Text

The Secret of Us (LH43) 1/3

aka the sequel to let it happen

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

WC: 21k (oops)

I felt it, you held it, do you miss us? wonder if you regret the secret of us.

General Warnings: angst (lol), a severe lack of proofreading, mentions of injuries, a couple of angsty flashbacks with avoidant behaviour and fade to black type smut

A/N: just want to say thank you guys for liking this so much 💖 seeing all the comments and the messages and people recommending this to others and the sweet things you're all saying (even if I betrayed you lol) made me so unbelievably happy!!! I could never let these two go out like that, I enjoy writing this dynamic way too much, and I also have way too much discussing this fic with people!! shoutout to the let it happen film club lmao!!! I hope you guys enjoy this sequel, and I hope it lives up to LIH, they really are my babies!!

and I know what you're thinking, maggie how could we ever trust you again after let it happen??? you can't!! and you shouldn't!!! but I wouldn't do that to you twice.

or would I???

I wouldn't 😌

OR WOULD I?!?!?!?! 😏

You need to start getting more comfortable saying no to people.

It’s something you tell yourself all the time, that being a people pleaser is going to lead to your downfall - it’s something you’ve always known.

So why you would ever possibly agree to attend a football game with your sorority sisters after weeks of hiding away in the safety of your childhood bedroom, you have no idea. You’ve spent the last 4 weeks alone convincing yourself to grow a backbone, and you’ve only been back in town a week. 7 whole days and your resolve has crumbled to pieces.

And now you’re squeezing yourself through a crowd of sweaty, yelling men to find your seat in the cramped spaces of Michigan Stadium, after already being packed like a clown into the back of your friend Molly’s car, and your head is throbbing, already.

A football game.

You at a football game.

It’s absurd.

Dressed in team colours with a ridiculous yellow M painted on your cheek like you’re some sort of local.

It’s your own version of a living hell, and you can’t wait for it to be over.

“Are you guys always sat this low?” You yell out to Molly as the rest of your friends amble in, surrounded now on all sides with no way out.

“Aren’t the seats, great?!” She yells back, louder than you, causing you to wince a little at the shrill sound in your ear.

The seats are not great, but you wouldn’t be happy anywhere in here.

You can barely even see the field, the sidelines packed with God-knows-who, and your back hurts already, and all you want is to go back to the version of you that was first asked if she wanted to come with. A version of you that should have told Molly straight up that you’d have rather sat at home plucking at any remaining body hair with a pair of pointed tweezers than to come to a Michigan Football game.

“Oh, look!” Molly jumps, and you’re assuming she’s just going to point to her boyfriend, following her finger with a bored gaze. You’ve seen him, before. You don’t need to see him again.

Only Molly’s finger doesn’t point to her boyfriend.

It points to the sidelines - to a group of guys stood with a shorter girl with curly blonde hair.

Ellie’s down there, dressed in team colours, too. She’s stood next to Jack, who’s stood next to Quinn.

And you don’t even need to look past Quinn to know who’s gonna be stood beside him.

It’s way too late to go home, now, you fear.

Not when Molly is digging her phone out and pressing immediately on Ellie’s contact, and you can see the whole situation unfold in front of you.

Ellie never has her phone on silent, and when it rings, it rings loud - a high-pitched, horrific tone that honestly sets off your fight or flight, and you can see the immediate reaction the boys have to it chiming in her hand.

She answers, instantly, and you can hear Molly’s side of the conversation, guiding Ellie to where your group are up in the stands, waving like a lunatic until Ellie finds you all - and, as if your life isn’t bad enough, she then starts gesturing at you.

“Look who I managed to convince to come with!” She yells, still pointing like you’re some circus attraction, and, if you could remember what the ground felt like, too long in the stands, now, that you miss it, you would honestly want it to swallow you up.

Because obviously Ellie isn’t the only one looking.

Jack is looking.

And Quinn is looking.

And you know, once again without looking yourself, that the person beside Quinn now has his eyes on you, too.

The weight of them takes you back in a dizzying flash, and all of a sudden, you’re back in the lake house, sobbing into your hands until you were pulled into the soft embrace of your best friend.

“Hey, you’re crying, what’s wrong?” Ellie cooed as she came over, throwing her arm around your shaking frame and rubbing a hand up and down your back. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” you tried through shaky breaths, attempting and entirely unconvincing smile, like it would at all mask the flood pouring down your cheeks, “Go back to your party, I’m just being dumb.”

“I’m not gonna leave you like this,” she told you, “What's going on, is it Luke?”

The mere mention of his name brought back the onslaught of tears, your face scrunching as you tried to hold them back, but it was no use. Every single part of you ached with regret, your throat, your chest, your limbs - and all you wanted to do was curl up and cry it out. “I fucked it all up, El.”

“No,” she reassured you, “He fucked things up, he should never have spoken about you like that, it wasn’t fair. Not if the two of you are into each other, he shouldn’t be saying things like that.”

“He was right, though,” you sobbed, “I’m a mess, I just ruin everything good, I don’t even know why.”

“Aw, babe, no-,”

“I told him I’d go out with Cole. I don’t even know why, I just wanted him to stop trying to make things work, he kept trying to tell me that he didn’t mean any of it, but I know he did.”

“Do you?” She asked, “Want to go out with Cole?”

“No, of course I don’t.” You shook your head, although you didn’t know how obvious it was, especially to everybody else, how little you wanted to be with anybody that wasn’t Luke. “I just want to go back to this morning, before I heard him say any of that stuff.”

“Why don’t you come downstairs, huh? We can find him, and the two of you can try to talk again-,”

“I can’t,” you refused, the thought of trying to communicate your feelings while you looked the way you did - eyes red raw and face all swollen - filling you with anxiety. “Can you just tell people I’m sick if they ask? I know it’s your birthday but I can’t go down there, Ellie.”

“Okay,” she had agreed, although the worry in her eyes made you feel even worse - missing your best friend’s birthday party because you were too chicken to face your feelings?

What sort of friend does that?

“I’ll come check on you, though. And tomorrow, you’re gonna have a serious conversation with Luke, alright? You can’t keep pushing people away, it isn’t good for you.”

“I know,” you sniffled, “I promise, I’ll try tomorrow.”

But trying had been futile. Luke wanted nothing to do with you - he could barely even look your way. He didn’t come downstairs for breakfast the next day, and when he finally did, he turned straight back around. Every time you tried to talk to him, he would shut you down, and by the tenth day of trying, you’d given up, entirely - booking yourself a ticket home, packing your things up one night and leaving the morning after.

The following weeks were spent wallowing back home with your mom - texting Ellie, waiting for him to reach out, even though you knew he wouldn’t. Watching sad movies, staying inside, spending your days alone, while your mom was at work, and trying not to miss him so much.

And coming back to Michigan had only been made easy by the fact that he would be gone - due to go back to training in Jersey, and the two of you wouldn’t cross paths.

It won’t hurt as much, you had thought, if you didn’t have to see him.

But now here Luke is, following Ellie’s gaze as she waves up to you in the stands, stood on the sidelines of the football game you’d only attended to finally get yourself out of the house - still in Michigan, stood at the end of the path you thought no longer led to him.

This might be the first time he’s met your eye in a while, and there’s a visceral feeling that shoots straight through you - your heart falling into an alarming, irregular thump that reverberates through your entire body, and it’s a strange sensation, like the slowing of time, the blurring of everything around you but him.

His arm is held to his front with a sling, and you try to ignore the way your stomach turns at the sight of it. It’s nothing to do with you, he doesn’t want you to care. He doesn’t even want to talk to you, and you don’t want to talk to him, either - not anymore. Not after almost 6 weeks of silence - of forcing yourself to think about anything but him, like you even could.

You offer a tight lipped smile and a wave to Ellie, and try to ignore his presence for as long as you can, try to watch the game, to focus on your friends in the stands beside you - only, he keeps looking back. Craning his neck, surveying the crowd as it fills up just to find you, and your heart starts to hammer in your chest every time you catch his eye.

What happened to him avoiding you at all costs? What happened to ignoring your attempts to talk, the knocks at his door, the pleading, persuasive looks you’d try to give him when it all got a little too much in the end.

Why can’t he just let you slip away into nothingness, like it would be so much easier to do?

Your phone buzzes in your back pocket as you’re trying to focus on the game, the desire to flee growing by the second - cramped and claustrophobic in your seat, dying for a drink and a minute of reprieve away from the crowd, away from Luke and whatever weird telekinetic powers he has on your heart.

Luke: can we talk?

Luke: I’ll be at the closest concessions in 5

You slip your phone back into your pocket without responding, and by the time you look back down to where he had been stood, he’s gone.

You should be relieved.

Maybe if you ignore his message, he’ll stop looking at you.

Maybe this is where it ends, and you can finally let each other go - too far gone to fix, nothing left to say.

Only your legs are now moving, side stepping Molly and the other girls, along with the rest of the people in your row, and your mouth is apologising to those you bump into, and your feet are carrying you down the stairs to where you know he’ll be, sneakers squeaking against the sticky floor as you search for him in the small concessions queue.

He stands taller than most, waiting by the counter, facing the other way, and you take the second that his back is turned to you to reconsider.

Stuck in place, staring at broad shoulders you’d once spent tracing the freckles between while he slept, and wondering which might hurt more - walking away or hearing him out.

He turns before you get the chance to choose, his eyes meeting yours , widening in surprise, as much as they can, considering his current predicament, and he immediately heads your way.

“Didn’t think you’d come,” Luke just about says as he precariously holds onto a plastic cup between his teeth, offering you the one in his free hand - what you assume is diet coke with ice sloshing a little over the rim and onto the already sticky floor.

“Can hardly leave a one-armed man to navigate the concession stand on his own. Not one with your appetite, at least.” Your brows furrow when you notice the distinct lack of snacks in his hold, but you figure he prioritised using what little carrying capacity he had to get your drink. “Do you want me to hang around while you get something to eat? I can hold your drink,”

“I don’t have much of an appetite,” he says, clearer now that he can hold his cup in his hand instead of his mouth. “I’m on some pretty strong painkillers, can’t eat without feeling sick.”

“Oh,” you frown, eyeing the sling that holds his other arm. He had been fine when you left the lake house - and even last week, in Ellie’s story on instagram, he hadn’t seemed injured then. It must be a recent development, and so close to the season, for him to be out in public wearing a brace, it can’t be good. “What happened?”

“Took a pretty bad hit on the ice,” he shrugs with his other shoulder, lips turning down like he’s trying to play it off, “Been telling myself it’s karma.” The way he chuckles is distant and noncommittal, and not at all like all the ways you’re used to seeing him smile or laugh. His eyes don’t squint, his mouth barely turns up, barely pushes those tell-tale folds into his cheeks that you used to press at when he was close enough to do so. Back when being in such close proximity made your heart thump in a different way.

But maybe that’s for the best.

Maybe one of Luke Hughes’ signature crooked grins might have made you do something stupid, like touch him again. You’ve worked too hard to push away the feeling of wanting to for the past month.

“Karma for what?” You ask instead, head tilting to survey the damage, like you’d even be able to see anything through the thick yellow hoodie he has on. It’s better than looking him in the eye, you think.

“For what I said to Cole,” he tells you, the shame that lines his words doing little to alleviate the way they so quickly jab at you, all the memories of that day and that conversation rushing back at you full-force. Memories you’ve worked really hard to suppress. “For hurting you. I probably deserved to get hurt, too.”

“I’d never want you to be hurt, Luke.” You say before you can think better of it, narrowed eyes meeting his finally, watching as they soften slightly, let your words sink in and melt like warm butter, seeping into his every pore and breaking down his hardened exterior.

“Me neither,” he almost-whispers, “For you, I mean. I wouldn’t want you to be hurt.”

You nod, momentarily pressing your lips together, your focus dropping to a patch of lint on his hoody, clenching your free hand into a fist behind your back to save yourself from reaching out to pluck it off.

“Is that all you wanted to see me for?”

You don’t want to be rude to him, but it’s hard, especially when every instinct in your body is telling you to push him away - to keep him at arms length where he can’t pull you back in.

“No,” he utters quickly, his feet shuffling as if he wants to step forward, reduced the metaphorical distance you’re trying to force between the two of you. “I was hoping we could talk.”

You just about save yourself from having your jaw drop wide open.

You’d tried to talk to him last month, before you left, and he had wanted nothing more to do with you.

“In the middle of a football game?” You frown, daring to glance up - taking notice of the panic in his eyes when he reads you like a book, can recognise your retreating form from a mile off, by now.

“No,” he blurts out, “No, I mean later, if you’re free. Somewhere else.”

“I don’t know-,”

“We’re having a barbecue back at the house,” he interrupts, a look on his face like he couldn’t possibly accept no for an answer. “Like an end of summer send-off thing, you should come over, I know the guys would want to say goodbye properly.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you finish your earlier thought, “Besides, your family probably all hate me.”

“Why would they hate you?”

“Because of what happened with us,”

“Oh,” He frowns, “No, they don’t hate you, I promise, not even Jack.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you scoff - when he had helped Ellie move rooms back in the sorority house last week, he could barely even muster a smile to send your way. He hadn’t been his usual stand-offish self, but he had hardly been friendly, either. You didn’t expect laughs and hugs and welcome-backs, but after the two of you had kind of made up back at his cousin’s wedding, and things were finally solid between him and your best friend, you thought some kind of bridge had been built.

Apparently not.

“I didn’t tell them.”

“Oh,” you don’t know whether you feel relieved or disappointed. He can’t have been that heartbroken about the whole thing if he never told a soul, right? Even you told your mom when you got home - granted, she was a whole bottle of rosé deep into the night and seconds from falling into a wine coma, but you still at least acknowledged your feelings to somebody.

What did he do, just bottle all whatever feelings remained up and send them off down the lake? Enjoy the rest of his summer like you never happened?

“I didn’t think you’d want me to,” he continues, “You never really liked me talking about us with other people, so I didn’t.”

“Right,” you nod, biting your tongue to save from throwing out a bitter, thanks. You spent the last month watching heart-wrenching sad movies in your bed all day and he just went about his life like the two of you were nothing That’s fine. That’s cool.

“Ellie’ll be there,” he tries again, like she won’t be attached to Jack’s hip all night and you’ll be left on your own. “And a few of the Michigan guys, if you need a ride back to campus. I’d offer to drive you, but,” he nods down to his arm, “Or you can stay, your room is still free.”

Yourroom. Like you have any claim on any part of his world, still.

“I’ll think about it,” you tell him, because you can’t fully bring yourself to say no to his face. It’ll be easier when you’re back home, later, and can just ignore his texts, if he even cares enough to send any. “I should get back.”

“I can walk you back,”

“You shouldn’t be in a crowd with your arm,” your head shakes and you step back, your body language saying more than your lips even dare. “It’s fine. Thanks for the drink.”

“No problem.” He chews at the corner of his lip as he watches you retreat, like he has more to say.

Despite spending the last month doing everything in your power to wipe your thoughts clean of Luke Hughes, you want nothing more than to hear it - but where you’ve been suffering and relating every pathetic, sad song you hear back to him and fighting every urge to reach out through fear of rejection, he’s been ignoring your entire existence. Repressing whatever feelings he may have had and neglecting any instinct he might have had to reach out, too.

“Promise me you will?” He calls out when you’re a little ways down the tunnel, causing you to turn back to see him in the same spot, “Think about it, I mean. I’d really like to talk to you.”

Your fingers tense at the mere mention of a promise tumbling from his lips, your pinky sending signals to your feet to run straight back to him, practically itching to reach out and link with his. Instead, you nod, eyes darting to the big M that stretches across his chest, easier to look at that and lie than into his hopeful gaze.

“Sure,” you tell him, because you can hardly make a promise you can’t keep.

Not to Luke.

You’re not coming.

Luke realistically knew as much when Ellie arrived on her own - immediately going over to Jack and sparing Luke a glance out of the corner of her eye as she whispered to his brother.

But it’s taken him almost 2 hours to really come to terms with the fact - to stop keeping an eye on the door and whipping his head around any time a newcomer enters the house.

He should have known when you refused to make a promise to him - not like you owed him anything in the first place. Should have known when the few attempts you made at joking around with him like old times, you’d barely mustered a smile - that familiar glint in your eye that shone only for him watered down into a dull gaze you refused to hold.

God, he’s an idiot, he thinks.

He should have spoken to you when he had the chance - those few times you had tried to offer an olive branch, pushing a pre-poured glass of juice his way at breakfast or making space for him on the couch he’s now conveniently slumped on, all alone.

It feels a little like a lost cause now, trying to reignite some sort of spark between the two of you - not when you won’t even hear him out.

He’d felt a bit of hope when you’d met him at the stadium, thinking his text might have been left on read - and even though he’d made the effort to buy you a drink, he hadn’t entirely expected you to turn up.

He thinks maybe that had been the first thing to throw him for a loop - arranging a meeting on a whim and you actually making an appearance. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t form a coherent sentence, or relay any sort of confidence in himself or what he was trying to sell you on.

Maybe that’s why he couldn’t convince you to come.

He can’t blame you - your last 10 days here at the house had been miserable, on his account, and if he was in your shoes, he wouldn’t come back, either. He wouldn’t hear himself out, wouldn’t forgive himself.

The night of Ellie’s party should have been where he drew the line at avoiding you - the initial aftermath of your fight still sizzling, too hot to touch while the both of you were still reeling.

The morning after, he had been hungover - throwing back drinks like nobody’s business just to drown you out - and there was no chance of having a serious conversation, then, even though he had woke up alone in his bed wanting nothing more than for you to be there.

He’d gone downstairs sometime in the early afternoon, ignoring his growling stomach until he couldn’t do it any more , and had trudged into the kitchen only to find you there with Cole.

The bitterness within him fought violently with his need to puke, and he stormed back up to his room, no longer having any sort of appetite, and stayed there for the rest of the day.

The days that followed were no better - avoiding you at every given opportunity, ignoring your pleading eyes, leaving no chance for you to speak to him, despite all the times he could see that you wanted to. He’d leave every room you entered, turn away from every conversation you joined, and the final nail in the coffin was probably the time he ignored you knocking on his bedroom door one night, the soft call of his name feeling like a knife that twisted in his gut.

You were gone the next day - your bedroom door open and the room empty when he walked past, your seat at the table vacant when he came downstairs for breakfast, and he seemed to be the only one who didn’t know. Ellie seemed unbothered, already having moved into Jack’s room, Quinn was drinking the green tea you had bought, that no one else was supposed to touch, Alex probably wouldn’t have cared either way, and Cole was already talking about meeting up with some other girl.

“Wow,” Luke had scoffed, throwing himself into the chair beside Cole’s and sneaking a peak at his phone screen, suddenly feeling a burning need to call the guy out. He was to the entire reason you called things off with Luke, and now he was talking to someone else? “Her bed isn’t even cold and you’re already moving on, huh?”

Ellie had glared at him from across the table, and Jack had frowned too, no doubt wondering why after 10 days of complete silence about the whole thing, he was daring to bring you up now.

“What are you talking about?” Cole chuckled, leaning back in his chair and raising a brow at Luke, who just said your name in response, with a pointed stare. “What about her?”

“Thought you were ending your summer with a girlfriend.”

“Dude, where the hell have you been?” Cole snorted, amused, if anything, “She couldn’t have turned me down quicker if she tried. Man to man, don’t ever follow instructions from that one,” he pointed over to Ellie, “She led me on a wild goose chase all summer just so that I’d help her get her guy.”

“Hey!” Ellie called from across the table, “It’s not my fault you have no game. And I would have gotten my guy just fine without your help.”

Before Cole could retort, spurred on by the way Jack was chucking by her side, Luke frowned, straightening in his chair. “She didn’t want to go out with you?”

“No, but before you say anything, it has nothing to do with my game, alright? She’s into someone else, I guess.”

“Someone else?” Luke’s eyes darted over to Ellie, who just rolled hers in response, turning her attention back to Jack before she excused herself from the table.

“That’s my guess,” Cole shrugged, “She said she wasn’t into me like that, but come on.”

Wasn’t into him?

That wasn’t what you had said to Luke.

“Sorry man,” Luke offered, absentmindedly, head craning to see which direction Ellie left in. “As you were.”

He jogged out of the kitchen and up the stairs, just about catching her before she disappeared into her and Jack’s room. “Hey, wait,” he had called, watching as she let out a heavy sigh and turned to look at him with narrowed eyes. “She turned him down?”

“Did you not just have this exact conversation with Cole?”

“Ellie, c’mon,” he pleaded, desperation creeping up inside - feeling a little too much like guilt, and causing a serious discomfort in the pit of his stomach. “She said she wanted to date him.”

“You’re so unbelievably stupid.”

It didn’t quite hit the same as when you said it, shame washing over him at the way Ellie was glaring at him.

“She heard you tell him that she wasn’t girlfriend material, and that she would just be hard work, and not worth his time. Lucky for you, she didn’t hear the bullshit you said before that.” Regret formed like a heavy ball in his gut, the weight of it almost pushing him to keel over. “She said whatever she had to to get you off her back because it hurt her less to push you away.”

“I don’t-,”

“And you’re the dumbass who just let her do it.”

That’s not fair, he thought. What was he supposed to do, just watch you move on without a care in the world, cheering you on with a stupid grin on his face while his whole heart crumbled to pieces at the thought of you being with anybody else?

“I’m not a mind reader, Ellie,” he tried to defend himself, “I can’t keep pushing at a door that won’t open.”

“My God, do you have a peanut for a brain, Luke?” She had shoved at his chest, “She’s been holding the door open for the last ten days, and all you’ve done is walk past it. She wanted to talk to you, and you wouldn’t even look at her!”

“I wasn’t ready! I thought she-,”

He had thought you had taken Cole up on his offer of taking you out - had thought that’s the conversation he had stumbled into the day after the party - and he didn’t want to risk hearing anything about it, or seeing it in action.

“She said it didn’t matter.”

You had said that - he had asked you straight up, so there was no confusing it, but when he tried to remember, he can’t picture your eyes as you did. He must not have been looking, he thought, or maybe you weren’t looking at him. Either way, how’s he supposed to muster up a clear idea of your intentions if he can’t remember the look in your eyes as you spoke them.

You couldn’t lie to him - you never could, even in the beginning, pretending to be aloof, pretending you weren’t into him, he could always see through you, back then, so why didn’t he try harder when it was something he didn’t want to hear?

“She’s really gone home? Not just back to Ann Arbor?”

“What are you gonna do?” Ellie scoffed, folding her arms across her chest, “Chase her down?”

“I don’t know, if I have to. We need to talk.”

“She’s probably back at her mom’s by now, she left pretty early. And I think it’s for the best if you leave her alone, Luke. She gave you a hundred chances to talk.”

“What am I supposed to do? I can’t just leave things like this, I made a mistake, I need her to know that, I need her to know I’m sorry.”

“It’s better if you both just cool off a little. She’s hurt that you’ve been ignoring her, it isn’t fair to keep playing hot and cold with her feelings.”

“That’s not what I-,”

“I know.” Ellie sighed, leaning against the wall and giving him a pitiful look as she finally took in just how panicked he had become, running hands through his hair and shifting between his feet. “Just give it time, that way you can both think about it, think about what you want to say without just saying things and not meaning them.”

And that’s all Luke has been doing since then.

Thinking about what he wants to say to you - thinking about how to fix things. All without knowing when it is that he would even see you again, or if you’d be willing to listen.

He’d distracted himself with it - his mind stuck on just how bad he had messed things up, and it had put him into a rut - so much so, that he ended up hurting himself in training, an injury that would have him out for a good couple of months. And he had meant it, when he told you he thought it was karma, because he deserved a reality check, he thinks. It had shifted things into perspective, at least - because now he could stay in town a little longer, could try and make amends before he had to go home and properly start his season.

And when he’d noticed Ellie scanning the crowd back at the game, had followed her beaming smile all the way to you in the crowd, he thought his heart had stopped.

It had been 4 weeks since he’d seen you last - almost 6 since he’d spoken to you. Since he’d touched you, or kissed you, or seen you smile, and when your eyes meet his from the stands, widened and hesitant, he could tell you were feeling the same.

An insurmountable longing for something the two of you should never have thrown away.

He saw the truth, then, even as you looked away and diverted your attention back to Ellie - the truth he was too hurt to notice all those weeks ago back in your room in the lake house.

That you felt the same way - you always had - you just weren’t used to it. Weren’t used to loving someone, or having them love you.

But he can’t quite tell if you still feel it.

He can’t expect you to, not with how reserved you’ve become.

He sighs, sinking into the cushions of the couch, legs stretched out and head thrown against the back as he squints against the light - the noise around him dwindling to a constant buzz.

He’s too caught up in his head to notice when Ellie sinks down beside him until she nudges at his side, and he slowly looks her way.

“If it helps at all, I could tell she wanted to come.”

Luke snorts out a humourless laugh, eyes rolling. “If she wanted to come, she’d be here.” He says, the muscles in his jaw tensing. “She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“She doesn’t really open up to people,” Ellie sighs, and he can tell from the way she’s looking at him that’s only divulging this from a place of pity, although he guesses that’s better than her saying nothing at all. “It took us years to get to where we are, and even now I’m not sure she lets me all the way in, and we’re supposed to be best friends.”

“I feel like I don’t even know if she was ever into me in the first place,” he mutters, tracing at a scratch in the surface of the table. Even if he had thought different, back in the stadium, he can’t be so sure now that you haven’t shown. You’d have come if you still cared. “I’m still confused by the whole Cole thing-,”

“That was my fault,” Ellie interjects, “I thought I was doing the right thing, I didn’t realise that you two were-,” her teeth clash as she bites down, as if to stop saying the word, together. “Whatever you were. And she just got all in her head after she heard you saying all that stuff, it’s what she does, keeps her cards close to her chest until she loses them all.”

“That’s the problem, El,” Luke groans, “If she really liked me, she would have told you. If she was ever serious, you’d have known something was up. She wouldn’t have hidden it from her best friend and told me that she was gonna go out with Cole after all.”

“You know she turned him down, Luke, he said himself, she was into someone else.”

“Yeah, or so he assumed,” he grumbles, recalling the feeling he got when Cole had said as much, back on the day you left.

“And you know on my birthday when she overheard that conversation, she’d literally just told me that she liked you. That’s big for her, Luke. It might have taken her a while but she got there in the end. It’s your own fault for having such a big mouth and ruining it.”

“I told her I didn’t mean it,” he can’t help how whiney he sounds, lips pouting and a crease forming between his eyebrows. “I told her I was sorry.”

“And then you ignored her for almost two weeks until she had no choice but to leave. You don’t get to claim the moral high ground here, I’m sorry.”

“So what am I supposed to do? She won’t talk to me.”

“You just have to give her time, don’t give up again.” Ellie nudges him a little too forcefully, the sharp jut of her elbow in his ribs causing him to wince. “Really think about if there’s a version of you that could be friends.”

“What if I don’t want to be friends, what if I don’t wanna keep taking one step forward and three back?”

“Then think about if you’d rather be nothing at all.”

“She hates me that much?”

“I don’t know, she stopped talking to me about it.” Ellie huffs, leaning back a little more into the couch. “But I’d take that as a no. If she hated you, neither of us would hear the end of it, trust me.”

He knows that’s true - all the odd comments you’d drop about Jack back in the beginning of summer. He knows you never hated Jack, but there was always a clear dislike, and you were never shy about voicing it to anyone willing to listen.

If you’re not talking about him at all, it means one of two things. You either give so little of a shit about him that you don’t see a use in bringing him up, or you don’t want to show vulnerability by admitting how much he hurt you.

He knows what he’d put his money on.

“Can’t you talk to her for me? Put a good word in?” He pleads, rounding his eyes in the hopes that Ellie’s pity extends to doing him a solid - he dedicated his entire summer to getting her and Jack together, after all.

“I think it’s best for the both of us if I stay out of her love life. My meddling is what got you guys into this mess in the first place.”

Luke sighs as he resumes his previous position, neck thrown against the back of the couch and eyes cast to the ceiling.

Your room is right above - the bed on which you’d kissed him that first time, away from your scheming at the mall, still made and empty. The bed where you two would lay atop the covers, watching movies on the old staticky TV, sharing snacks between you and spouting commentary into the night.

He wonders, then, if you’d watched anything since the last time - before you left - and it’s that thought that has him pushing himself up and making his way up the stairs.

Despite the amount of time since you were in here, it still kind of smells like you - like melon sunscreen and passionfruit perfume - and he casts a glance around for anything that might remain.

There’s nothing, though. No loose hair ties, forgotten jewellery, not even a book left behind.

And then he checks by the TV - the shelf below it housing a DVD player, and he powers it up just to press eject.

After a few seconds, a disc spins out.

Silver Linings Playbook, with Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence.

He might have seen it once or twice, can vaguely remember some of the storyline, but it isn’t until everybody has left the house a good hour or two later that he thinks he should watch it - if it’s the last movie you watched before you left - just to get an idea of your headspace.

When he’s lounging on his own bed, the movie playing on his TV, Jennifer’s Tiffany saying to Bradley’s Pat, “I used to think that you were the best thing that ever happened to me, but now I think that you might maybe be the worst thing. And I'm sorry that I ever met you.” And it turns his stomach in a way he isn’t prepared for, tears pricking at his eyes at the thought of you watching this and thinking the same.

And then Pat responds, and Luke sits with the line for a good minute, pausing the movie as he ponders the response, "Good for you. Come on, let's go dance.”

He wonders if you smiled the same way - soft and small, hopeful that one day the punches you throw to defend yourself are met with the same resistance, with a hand that grabs at them, and instead of fighting back, just pulls you closer.

It’s almost by instinct that he pulls his phone out, loading up the same app he always does when he’s watching a movie, ready to fill in a review when it gets to a part that resonates with him.

And there you are, on his friends feed - the last movie you logged being an hour ago, La La Land, which you had unsurprisingly given 5 stars, and had reviewed with just a quote - It’s pretty strange that we keep bumping into each other. Maybe it means something.

And he grins, really and genuinely beams, for what feels like the first time in a while, a small chuckle rumbling up from his chest as he checks for your review on Silver Linings - the same quote he loved so much sitting there under your 5 star rating.

He doesn’t want to be nothing, he decides, then, like it was ever in question.

And he realises it’s up to him to do something about it.

Luke’s first thought when it comes to fixing thing is to text you.

It’s simple, and it should be easy, but he sits staring at your name in his phone for 30 minutes trying to think of what would be best to say.

A casual, hey, in the hopes that you’d just instinctively type it back.

A call out, like, Bummed you couldn’t come over the other night, thinking you might have been feeling guilty.

A question, or even an invite, along the lines of, Do you want to meet somewhere? Because leaving someone hanging on an invite is just plain cruel.

But then he feels like he doesn’t want to force your hand - weirdly inspired by that La La Land quote you loved so much, about bumping into each other.

Only orchestrating a chance encounter was hard when you weren’t going out. Ellie had mentioned everybody going for drinks at one of the bars on campus, and you never turned up.

She told him your favourite coffee shop, and despite him hanging around all day one time, like a total creep, he didn’t catch sight of you once.

You weren’t with Ellie when he bumped into her at the mall, or at the diner, when he had gone for burgers with the guys and seen a few of your sorority sisters on the other side of the restaurant.

And even when Ellie had told him to come over to the house, that she’d take him into town to pick up some suits, because he was still in his sling and couldn’t drive himself, he had been disheartened to find out you wouldn’t be there - that you had a morning class, and Ellie hadn’t even seen you.

He settles for looking at the cute photo of you and Ellie on the mantle, greek letters painted on your cheeks, beaming smiles as you looked straight into the camera, and he still gets that twinge in his chest even looking at a photo.

A twinge that only grows when he hears a gasp from behind him, and he swiftly turns to see you at the bottom of the staircase, looking back at him, alarmed and surprised.

Luke’s eyes trail slowly up your bare legs, his throat going dry as they land on the oversized shirt you’re wearing - his shirt, he’s pretty sure, although he knows it’s probably best not to comment on that - before cutting up to your face, wide eyes staring back at him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, stepping back toward the staircase where you rest your hand on the bannister, putting as much distance between the two of you as you can without completely retreating up the stairs.

“I uh-,” he stutters, losing his train of thought as he stands there with his mouth agape, taking you in.

He hadn’t been prepared to see you, that much is clear - and especially not like this, dressed in his shirt, which you’ve obviously slept in, hair a little messy, skin bare of any makeup. It reminds him of those mornings in his bed, waking up before the rest of the house, your body bathed in the soft glow from the rising sun, trading sleepy kisses until you would sneak back off to your room.

It makes him yearn for that, again, and feelings like that need some kind of forewarning, otherwise they serve nothing but to make him ache.

“I said I’d drive him to an appointment,” Ellie says as she emerges from the kitchen, car keys in hand, “I though everyone had class this morning, you’re not gonna hand me in for having a guy in the house, are you?”

“I’m not a snitch,” you frown, tugging at the ends of his shirt, “I slept in, I didn’t think anyone else was here either.”

He didn’t exactly need the confirmation, considering your current state, but knowing you slept in his shirt makes the heat creep up his neck, his chest puffing as he really takes in the meaning of it.

So many things about you are screaming that you want nothing to do with him, but you’re sleeping in his old Michigan shirt, one you’d borrowed when your shoulders were burning out on a wakeboarding trip one day, he’s pretty sure - one he never even realised you kept.

“Do you need a ride?” She offers, stepping beside Luke, close enough that in order to look at Ellie, you pretty much have to look his way too, and every time you glance at him, he catches you. “We were gonna go get a drink before, so we’re heading your way anyway. Or you could come with, if you’re skipping."

“Uh, no,” you decline, without even thinking about it, Luke’s chest feeling a little tighter at just how quick you are to avoid being near him. “I’m gonna go to the library.”

“I could still drive you. I doubt you’d mind a detour, would you, Lukey?”

“No,” he breathes out, almost immediately, eyes staying on you. “I don’t mind.”

“It’s fine,” you offer Ellie a tight lipped smile, “I’ll walk.”

And that’s that - your figure retreating back up the stairs before Luke has anything to say about it, his shoulders slumping as Ellie offers a friendly pat to his back.

“C’mon then, I need to stop for gas, you’re paying.”

He follows Ellie out to the back of the house, where the girls usually park their cars off the street, and just as he’s climbing into Ellie’s Mini, he glances up to the one of the windows, just in time to catch the quick shift of a curtain.

“Don’t worry,” Ellie says as he adjusts the passenger seat, folding his long legs into the limited space, an assured smile sent his way before she starts up the car. “I’ve got a plan.”

“What happened to no more meddling?” He huffs as he buckled himself in.

“I can’t sit back and watch my best friend become boring trying to avoid you, Luke,” she sighs, “It’s borderline painful.”

—

You don’t know when managing your social life became Ellie’s full time job - as if the two of you aren’t tumbling into the depths of your final year of school with very little direction or guidance - but you’re growing tired of it, quick.

First, it had been, you’re coming to the bar and I’m not taking no for an answer, except, she had taken no for an answer, she just relished in making you feel bad for it after.

Then it had been, I need your opinion on halloween costumes, and she had insisted you join her at the mall, but you had an appointment with the careers counsellor that you really couldn’t miss, and she had to settle with sending you photos, again adding incessant messages about how she wouldn’t let you turn down the next invitation out.

Never mind trying to avoid bumping into Luke during his extended stay, avoiding Ellie was becoming a real task - slipping out before she can corner you in the mornings and staying out most of the day.

She caught you off guard, the other day, though - inviting Luke around. Sure, you were supposed to be in class - would have been, if your alarm had gone off on time - but still, bringing him into your space was like crossing a line, breaking an unspoken rule.

She’s supposed to be on your side. She isn’t supposed to be bringing the guy who hurt you into your house and driving him around town like his personal assistant, all from the good of her heart.

She’s just trying to kiss up to Jack.

At least, you thought so, until she sent you a text later that day - a bunch of pictures of Luke in different suits, tailored perfectly to his lean figure, shirts that stretched taut across his broad shoulders and pants that clung perfectly to his hips, followed by the message, thoughts?

You had many, but none that you could possibly sent to her - only replying with a question mark until she apologised, claiming they were meant for Jack’s approval.

It became clear then, what she was doing - flaunting him in front of you until you burst at the seams, like one of those jackets looked like it was going to do in a few of the pictures from the back of Luke in the tailor shop. Sending you those had been no accident.

And that’s why you were sceptical when the weekend rolled around, and she was begging and pleading for you to go with her to a party at the hockey house - promising you that he was finally heading back to Jersey, and definitely wasn’t going to be around.

She’d buttered you up with groans of, I feel like I never see you anymore, and, school is stressing me out, already, I just want to let loose with my best friend!

And it was the promise that she’d let you wear a skirt you’ve been eyeing in her closet for the past two years that sealed the deal - a vintage Diesel mini that she had thrifted and guarded like her whole life depended on it.

You can’t help it, anyway - it’s been so long since you’ve been out like that - probably summer being the last time - and you need to let loose too.

And that’s how you end up walking hand in hand through the front door, Ellie having styled your hair, the two of you looking like a million dollars, and it’s the first time in months that you aren’t disturbed by the feeling of eyes on you.

You kind of feel like your old self - confident, self-assured, like there isn’t a soul on earth who could possibly make you doubt yourself.

You wish the universe gave you at least five minutes to sit with that feeling before you saw him.

Before you saw Luke, sling-free, bottle in hand, leaning against the wall, talking to Victoria Anderson, a girl you know he has history with - a girl you have history with, yourself.

You hate how quick the switch within you flips - the slight slump of your posture, the tension in your jaw, all your self-worth seeping from your pores like your body is actively trying to kill it.

Your hand slips from Ellie’s, immediately heading in the opposite direction to where Luke is - making a bee-line straight for the kitchen, straight for a drink.

Ellie is hot on your heels, grasping at your arm to keep up, “I’m sorry,” she calls after you.

“You said he wouldn’t be here,” you grumble, shoving through the swinging door and heading straight for the line of bottles on the counter.

“What am I, his keeper?” She scoffs, trying to play it off as a lighthearted joke, but you can see it in her eyes that she knew. “I don’t know where he’s gonna be at all hours of the day.”

“You said he was going back to Jersey.”

“Yeah, well, I must have got my days mixed up!”

“Yeah, right,” you scoff, pouring out a shot from the first bottle you find without even reading the label, and throwing it back before you can think twice. You pour yourself a proper drink, after - a vodka with diet coke - and sip at it just to cool your nerves, trying to calm yourself down.

You don’t want to be mad at Ellie - whatever she’s doing, she’s doing it because she cares - but you’re so tired of overthinking this whole thing. All you want is a break from it all, and no one is willing to give you one.

“I’m gonna go find Ethan,” you tell her, figuring you can kill two birds with one stone - ask him about the class you missed the other morning, and avoid speaking to Luke, “If you want to make this up to me, I need you to tell Luke to steer clear, okay?”

“Fine,” she scowls, rolling her eyes as she has to pour her own drink.

You storm off back toward the door, and just as you get close, it swings open, the edge of it knocking straight into you - into the hand holding your freshly poured drink, which is now dripping down your front.

Your whole body tenses at the sensation of the liquid seeping through your shirt, only momentarily thankful that you hadn’t added ice before you remember the coke - remember the vintage skirt, with the light denim wash.

You hear Ellie groan from behind you, and you squeeze your eyes shut in the hopes that you’ll magically gain some sort of time travelling superpower - a rewind button, like Click.

“Are you okay?”

Of course it had to be him, you think - because you’ve somehow unsettled the entire balance of the universe, and this is how it’s decided to repay you, your eyes opening to find those concerned, grey-green eyes peering back at you.

He takes the empty cup that’s being squished in your grip and tosses it into a trash can to the side before you feel a hesitant hand on your side, watching as he surveys the damage.

“And here I thought that skirt couldn’t get uglier.”

Victoria’s piercing blue eyes gleam back at you, a sinister smirk plastered on her lips, and you’re lunging before you even know it until a strong arm curls around your waist, the heat of his skin slipping straight into the gap between your skirt and t-shirt, and sending a shiver straight down the spine that’s now pressed to his front.

“Hey, c’mon,” he warns, pulling you back with enough force that there’s a good couple of feet between you and Victoria now, and her eyes narrow at all the points he’s touching you. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You think you only let him guide you away to piss her off - and it isn’t until he’s ushering you into the small downstairs bathroom and closing the door behind him that you realise how little consideration you put into that.

You watch as Luke retrieves a towel from the small cupboard by the door, forgetting he probably still knows this place like the back of his hand, and starts to work at the front of your t-shirt before you snatch it away.

“I’ve got it, thanks.” You snap, entirely frustrated with the whole situation than you think you are with him, a small swirling of guilt immediately bubbling up inside you.

You dab at the skirt, first, hoping there’s some way that it’s salvageable, or Ellie’s going to murder you. You lean against the counter by the sink, and glance down at the damage. It looks just like a water stain, for now, unfortunately placed, but you won’t know for sure until it dries, and dabbing at it with a towel isn’t really going to fix that.

“Did she hurt your hand?” Luke asks, low voice breaking the silence you were starting to cherish, and it’s only then that you realise where the door hit you. Your knuckles ache a little, but you can still flex your fingers, so you figure they’ll just be bruised tomorrow.

You do wish you could have bruised them another way - maybe with a fist to Victoria Anderson’s smug grin - but you’re supposed to be a pacifist, so maybe not. If anyone’s going to break that pattern, it would be her - your rival in every way ever since you came to Michigan. Academically, in all the same classes, socially, in opposing sororities, and even romantically, with her somehow always looking out for the same guys.

She’d even been at one of the parties back at the lake house, with her hands all over Luke - you remember hearing her shrill laugh and feeling like someone had just drug their nails down a chalkboard, all semblance of peace instantly lost.

You’re brought out of whatever fiery daydream even her name elicits with the touch of Luke’s fingers to yours, the soft brush of his thumb over your knuckles as he checks for any real damage.

“I’m fine,” you croak out, dazed a little by the feeling before you tear your hand away, “It was just a knock.”

“You want me to kick her ass?”

You blame the shot you took for the way you snort out a laugh - caught by surprise and unable to even consider the reaction, slipping straight back into your unguarded self around him - like the walls you’ve tried so hard to rebuild just dissolved. Not even a knock or a tumble of bricks, just them fading into nothing like magic.

Luke smiles back, soft and hesitant, like he’s waiting for you to fade away, too.

And then there’s that silence you thought you wanted - heavy and tense, and it’s too much for you to handle, so you slip past him, wordlessly, and head straight back to the door.

And just as your fingers grasp at the handle and you prepare yourself to pull, a large hand lays flat on the surface beside you, trapped by a warm chest closing in on your back.

It’s quiet for a minute, the dull thump of the bass from the music somewhere else in the house now distant and fading, and the room feels charged way beyond the atmosphere of the party you’ve been away from a little too long.

You see the bend in his elbow before you feel his breath on the back of your neck, and you can feel the distance closing - an inch or two now, so close that you have to stay vigilant not to take even the slightest step back.

“Luke,” you breathe, your throat stinging in preparation for some sort of hurt, and your lip trembling until you start to chew on it.

“Just one more minute.”

“You have to let me go.”

“Please, I just want to talk.”

You turn, slowly, and you don’t know why you do it to yourself, because it’s inevitable you’ll fall prey to the pleading look in his eyes. Your back falls against the door, and you’re craning your neck to look up at him, blinking slow as his eyes flicker between your own.

Every passing second feels like a minute, and just as you’re about to give in - to tell him to go ahead and talk, the door vibrates behind you, a fist banging into the other side.

“Please tell me the skirt is okay!”

You press a hand flat to his chest and push, wedging some much needed space between the two of you - enough that you can swing the door open and face Ellie, and save yourself from plunging into whatever rabbit hole that would have taken you down.

“I won’t know until it’s dry, but if it’s bad, we’ll take it to the cleaners, okay?”

“Ugh,” Ellie groans, grabbing you by the hand and dragging you back to the kitchen for another drink, “I’m so running her ass over the next time I see her on the street.”

You look back at Luke, still stood in the doorway, watching the whole way until you disappear around the corner, and it’s only when you can’t see him anymore that your heart rate returns to an acceptable speed.

You successfully manage to avoid Luke for a good couple of hours, almost forgetting him, miraculously, despite being in a house filled with his closest friends. There’s even a point where you think he might have left, until you stumble out into the backyard to a group setting up a small fire to keep warm.

You’re too buzzed to comment on the legality of it, so far gone that the thought of campus police coming around barely even crosses your mind, and you throw yourself down into one of the camp chairs with a drink in hand as the group discuss how to pass the time.

You can’t remember who suggests Never Have I Ever, too distracted by the figure settling down on the opposite side of the fire, long limps stretching almost comically out of the small chair, meeting your eyes for a moment before you look away at the arrival of Nick, who comes with cards in hand.

You’d usually make some sort of comment about how juvenile it is, but there’s this part of you that’s probably trying to cling a little to that, lately, so you let it pass, leaning almost sleepily back into your chair as it kicks off.

The game is pretty tame compared to other times you’ve played it, stuff like, never have I ever crashed a car, and, never have I ever broken a bone, coming from the top of the deck, and there’s only a few complaints about it needing more spice before it gets to Ellie’s turn to pick, a few people down from you.

“Never have I ever,” Ellie drags out before picking a card, flipping between her manicured fingers and smiling slowly as she reads the rest, “Been in love,” she coos, turning it to show the rest of the group with a love-struck grin.

A chorus of groans sing out from around the circle, Luca reaching to swipe the card from Ellie as she takes a big chug from her red cup. “That’s so lame,” he huffs, “Pick another, this isn’t the Ellie show. We get it, you're happy, doesn't mean the rest of us should suffer.”

You glance down at your empty cup as the two of them start to argue about the rules of the game, Ellie grumbling how she didn’t write the cards, and Luca retorting with how she could have at least gone off-script to make it a little more interesting.

If you had any semblance of your inhibitions, any control of your reactions, your gaze would have stayed on the last few drops swirling around the base of your drink. Your eyes wouldn’t have trailed up slowly, past the dancing flames of the makeshift-campfire, and fallen onto another cup at the opposite side of the circle.

It wouldn’t have watched intently as long, slender fingers raised to bring said cup up, pressing to parted lips, the contents gulped down as you stare at the movement of his throat around the liquid.

When you dare to look higher, you find him already staring back at you, piercing green eyes burning hotter than the fire between you, and your own throat goes dry as you watch.

And of course he makes a show of it, squaring his shoulders and swiping a thumb across his bottom lip to make sure there's no residue. No evidence of all that he had just admitted to. Nothing but the memory of it burned already into the back of your retinas, lingering like an ache all the way down your spine.

No one else seems to notice - but you suppose that’s just how things go between you and Luke. One more secret to add to the ever-growing pile.

Your hand trembles as if it wants to copy him, but you’re thankful for the last shred of dignity you have that tells you that even if you wanted to drink - even if you could play it off as assuming the question had been vetoed, and you were just quenching your thirst in the brief break in the game - there’s nothing left. Even if you wanted to drink - which you brain is so loudly telling you that you don’t - you can’t.

And when Luke’s gaze shifts, lowers painstakingly slow as everything else fades to background noise around the two of you, you don’t know why you find yourself tilting your cup when his eyes land on it, making a show of just how empty it is.

“You’re not gonna drink?” Ethan frowns from beside you, a nudge of his elbow knocking at yours and bringing you back down to earth with a painful splat.

Why would he assume that?

“What?” You ask, frowning as you meet his chocolate brown eyes, the reflection of the flames basking them in a warm, melting glow.

“He said never have I ever been kicked out of a bar,” he chuckles, quirking a brow as your face morphs from one of confusion to one of recollection. “I know for a fact you have.”

“Oh, right,” you laugh, nervously, the reaction coming out more like a stuttered breath as the panic swirling in your chest dissipates just the slightest. “I’m running on empty. I’m gonna go get a refill.”

Ethan nods as he shuffles a little to let you out of the circle, watching with narrowed eyes as you lift yourself from the chair and edge your way out of the group and back towards the house.

The kitchen is thankfully empty when you get back inside, sliding the door shut behind you to block out the noise, your thoughts overbearing enough without still being able to hear everyone yelling out in the yard.

You move almost on autopilot, heading for the row of bottles on the counter and reaching straight for the vodka you’ve been mixing with diet coke all night.

You pour out a measured shot first, swirl it in the cup before lifting the it straight to your lips, leaving little room to think much more about it, and throwing your head back.

The liquid burns the whole way down - all the way from the back of your mouth, past your aching chest, and into the pit of your stomach, pooling there in a nauseating bubble of heat and regret - and you don’t know entirely if the need to drink was just to quench your thirst, to alleviate the warmth spiking up your neck, to quell the rampant beating of your heart, or to play along with the game. With Luke’s game.

Maybe some mysteries are better left unsolved.

He wasn’t in love with you.

You think you’d know. He would have told you - he’s hardly shy about voicing his opinion, you learned that the hard way.

He’s just being cruel, now, you’ve convinced yourself - probably payback for earlier, for leaving him in the bathroom and telling him to let you go. One final act of defiance, because he has to have the last word.

God, why would you even play along?

You shouldn’t have even looked his way - should have kept your eyes down, then you wouldn’t still be feeling like your whole body is on fire.

Your eyes dart up at the sound of the screen door opening, and your heart thuds in your chest at the sight of who walks through.

You hold your breath as he slowly makes his way toward you - cautious steps carrying him toward the counter where you stand, and he places his empty cup on the surface beside yours,

“You can’t avoid me forever.”

“I don’t have to avoid you forever,” you shrug, circling around him and trying not to let him trap you again, “I just have to avoid you until you go home.”

“I don’t want to go home without us talking,” he grasps at your wrist before you can fully get past him, levelling you with a tired look, one that says he’s resigned to his fate, but he can’t rest until he tries one last time. “Please.”

“Luke,” you groan, the remnants of intoxication slowly fading into exhaustion.

“Just one conversation.” He begs, “Then you can be done with me, I’ll leave you alone.”

Your lips twist as you try not to give under the weight of his softened, pleading gaze. He’s persistent, you’ll give him that - and he’s technically surpassed the efforts you had made back before you left the house toward the end of summer, now almost 3 weeks since you had turned him down back at the football game.

And do you really want him to leave you alone? You’re not entirely sure. Maybe talking to him can help you finally figure that out.

“Fine.” You acquiesce. “One conversation.”

“You want me to walk you home?” He asks, his voice soft and low, a tilt to his head that makes his curls shuffle and a caring glint in his eye that makes your legs feel like jelly. It’s probably for the best if he does, you think, you’re at a serious fall-risk now. Tired and buzzed, a lethal combination.

You nod, wordlessly, watching as he seemingly tries to fight a small smile, straightening up to swipe your cup, stacking it with his own and throwing it in the trash.

“C’mon, I already gave Ellie a heads up, I’ll come back for her.”

You soften a little at the thought of him considering her - even if it isn’t about you. If it’s on Jack’s behalf, and he’s just being a good brother, him looking out for your best friend is still sweet.

You let him guide you out of the house, and it’s quiet in a way you can’t stand, walking side by side down the otherwise empty street.

“You’re out of your sling, then?” You don’t know why you feel better to make small talk - but waiting with bated breath for him to say what he’s been trying to for so long now makes your heart pound almost painfully against your ribcage.

“Yeah,” he flexes his arm a little, as if to prove a point. “I’m back in Jersey at the end of the week, will probably be doing no contact training for a while.”

“How long until you’re playing again?”

“They’re saying it’s looking like November,” he tells you, “Which sucks, but at least I don’t need surgery like Jack.”

“Do you miss it?” You ask, conscious of the way your steps are slowly turning toward his and trying to straighten yourself up. “Being back in New Jersey with your team, with Jack?”

“Jack doesn’t give anybody a chance to miss him, you should know that by now.” He grumbles, "In my texts 24/7 like it’s his second job.”

“Ellie’s too,” you tell him in a breathy chuckle, crossing your arms over your torso just to keep your hands busy with something as he shoves his back in the pockets of his jeans. “I don’t know where he finds the time,”

“He doesn’t need time, he’s annoying to his very core.” Luke scoffs, “I do miss the guys though, but there’s a couple group chats. And I’d probably miss the guys here if I was back there.”

“So either way you’re missing somebody?”

He gives an affirmative hum, kicking a rock down the side of the curb, figuring you don’t quite realise just how true that question rings to him. The sorority house is at the end of the path, now - closer than either of you really anticipated, and you almost start to panic, like the walls are closing in on you, like you’re running out of time.

“Listen-,”

“Look-,”

You both stop in the middle of the sidewalk, looking at each other wide eyed until you press your lips together, and gesture for him to carry on.

“I miss you,” he says, plain and simple, like it’s all he can muster up - and if you’re honest, it’s all you want to hear, an acknowledgement that without you in his life, there’s this gaping hole that no one else can fill. “I know that if I want to fix things between us, that I should give you this huge speech about how much I fucked things up, and that I should have trusted you, and listened to you when you tried to talk to me, and I do think all those things. I know those things, but I’ve been trying to figure out how to say them without it sounding like some bullshit excuse, and I figure I just need to be honest with you.

“I feel like the whole time we were together, I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know, like I could never just be in the moment with you because I felt like it was gonna end. And I think maybe you were doing the same.”

It’s crazy, you think, how well he knows you.

“And neither of us were ever gonna be ready to be anything more, because we weren’t even acknowledging that this thing between us probably wasn’t healthy.”

You’re quite thankful for the sting in the back of your throat, because you don’t know what you’d say to that, if you could speak.

It hurts to hear it, but he’s right.

“I just wanted to believe it was a good thing for as long as you’d let me, and when you said you’d have dated Cole, and that you’d have thrown it all away, and I just left without a fight, I-,” he blinks, like he’s trying to rid himself of the tears welling in the corners of his eyes, like he doesn’t want to give in and let them shed. “I don’t know, I thought it was best to avoid you all together than watch you put that final nail in the coffin, or whatever.”

“You know I never went out with Cole, right?”

“I know. He told me before he left for training camp. The day you left. Almost considered running after you to apologise for being such a dick. Even thought about flagging you down in departures at Wayne County.”

You let that thought sit for a moment - Luke chasing you down like something out of one of the romantic comedies you would watch together - like the angsty movies you watched after you went home, laying on your bed and wishing the two of you could have had a happy ending.

“Probably for the best you didn’t chase me through the airport,” you tell him with a wistful smile, “declarations of love freak me out,”

“I thought they might.” He chuckles, breathily, his heart not entirely in it.

“I also took the greyhound.”

“You know serial killers get those things, right.”

“You watch too many movies.”

His eyes flicker to yours, then, knowing and amused - like a new inside joke has cemented itself into your dynamic.

“I don’t want to be nothing with you.”

It’s a weird statement, almost nonsensical, but you get it.

It’s what you’ve been trying for ever since you left Michigan, after all, and especially after you returned.

You let the thought settle for a moment, your lips twisting and your eyes tearing up as you watch him wait for a response.

“You really hurt me, Luke.” Your voice trembles as you say it, and you think you’re only part spurred on by liquid courage, the rest of it probably the incessant need to open up to somebody.

“I know,” he practically whispers back, choked up as much as you are.

“I don’t think I can do that again.”

He nods, pressing his tongue to the side of his cheek like he’s trying not to press you on it, stepping back ever so slightly and huffing out a deep breath.

You almost think he might retreat, entirely - accepting your reluctance this final time and letting you go, just like you’d asked, earlier.

“What about if it’s not,” he shakes his head, sighing as he tries to think of the best way to say it, “What if it’s not romantic, between us?”

“You really think we could be friends?”

“You don’t?” He asks, wincing a little like the thought of anything else is painful.

“We’re hardly gonna see each other,” you tell him, “Is there really any point in keeping it up?”

“I’d like to try.”

You don’t know what concept hurts you the most, the thought of trying and failing, or not trying at all. Either way, you lose him.

You wish, for a moment, you were in any way good at math - that you could work out the statistic for the other option, the one where it actually works.

The option where neither of you get hurt, and you get to keep him.

You imagine that it’s slim.

“I don’t know, Luke,” you sigh, unable to shake the heaviness of your doubt, “It feels like we’re just stretching out the inevitable, here.”

“I don’t think so,” he fights back, taking that step forward that he just took back, “Just friends, it doesn’t have to be anything more than that. Hell, if you want to build up to friends, I’ll take that, too. Just not nothing. I miss you too much to be nothing.”

You miss him, too. You missed him the past 3 weeks while he’s been in town, and the two of you have somehow managed to avoid seeing each other for the most part. You missed him for the month you were back at your mom’s house. You missed him those ten days over in the lake house, when he was still technically right in front of you the whole time.

“Can I think about it?”

“Yeah!” He nods, eagerly, the slight etching of a smile spreading across his lips. “Yes, you can think about it.”

You nod back, then, hesitant and before you can do something stupid, like wrap your arms around him as a goodbye, you step away.

You bid him goodnight, offering a thank you for walking you home, and you retreat into the safety of the house, watching through the window by the front door until he disappears back down the street.

The start of your semester passes in a chaotic blur, and you very quickly, and very frantically, find yourself panicking a little about the what’s-next of it all.

With the last few months of your headspace occupied entirely by a certain brunette, you realise quickly that you really need to knuckle down and figure out what you’re going to do with yourself once school is over.

And that’s what brings you to New York City in the middle of October - one of your very few prospects for the aftermath of your college career discussed over iced teas in Midtown, Manhattan, before you’re crossing state lines through the Holland Tunnel and scrambling to get ready in the hotel room you and Ellie had booked.

You don’t know how you managed to hide all of your efforts behind a veil of secrecy, but Ellie had been all too distracted by you agreeing to accompany her to Jack’s team halloween party in Jersey City, and so she had little brain power left to question where you disappeared off to, or why you’d possibly have any sort of appointment anywhere near here as soon as you told her she could pick up a costume for you.

You should have known it would be something ridiculous, evidenced by the poofy yellow dress and cartoonish crown she had left on your bed for you to change into.

When you emerge from the bathroom, fully dressed, she’s stood in her Princess Peach costume - the colour palette a lot more complementary to her than the yellow is to you, but you can hardly fight her on it now - especially knowing Jack is out there somewhere dressed as Mario.

You don’t know how it slips your mind that he and Luke play for the same team, or that they’re brothers, or that he could possibly at the same party, dressed as Luigi. Not until you and Ellie are walking into the party a little after it starts, and you meet his eye for the first time in a couple of weeks, your mouth falling agape as you realise just what Ellie has done.

You don’t even have a second to call her out before she’s prancing off to some far side of the room with Jack, all over him after their own extended time apart, and you literally have no option but to sidle up to Luke, tail between your legs, cringing at the entire situation as you stand beside him in a room full of his peers after you had only just shut him down not long ago.

Thankfully, it’s Luke - and he would rather choke than make you feel uncomfortable about it.

He offers an easy smile, amused, even, as he greets you from the tall table he’s occupying, handing you the beer he just opened for himself and reaching for another from the table behind him.

“I don’t even know why I agreed to come with them, I knew they’d just split and make out in the corner,” you roll your eyes, taking a swig from the bottle and grimacing a little at the taste. “I don’t even know anybody.”

“You know me,” he shrugs, “I don’t mind keeping you company.”

“Yeah right,” you scoff, “You literally just came back, the last thing you need is to be lumped in a corner with me all night when you’ve hardly seen your teammates for months. I’m just gonna duck out in a little bit, no one will care.”

“I’ll care,” he chuckles lightheartedly, the ease in which the statement slips out and the certainty in which you feel it sends a slight shiver down your spine. “I’ve been back in training for a week, trust me, I’ve already had enough.”

You sigh, trying to ignore the convincing look he’s giving you - head titled, a lopsided smile and eyes filled with hope.

It was only just under two weeks ago that you told him you didn’t want to be friends, so you can’t really understand why he’s so intent on you sticking around. He should be personally ordering you an Uber back to your hotel and pushing you out of the door, but he’s giving you this pleading pout now that’s making you think his night would fall to pieces if you left so soon.

The thing is, you’re not that great around people you don’t know, not lately, anyway - especially not when those people are all big, bulky high performance athletes (and Jack) and their drop dead gorgeous partners. You feel like an intruder, like you don’t belong, and you can’t imagine anything happening to change your mind.

“I still feel like such an outsider at these things,” Luke huffs, elbows resting on the tall table in front of you, his body leaning onto it in the absence of any stools nearby until he’s more around your height. “This is the first time Jack’s brought anybody with him so I can’t exactly stick to his side like normal.”

You frown.

Is he serious?

Luke has never been the type to stick to his brother’s side - not from what you’ve seen, anyway, and you’d pretty much spent your entire summer observing the guy - you’re way past the point of trying to deny that, now.

“Isn’t that Seamus over there?” You point to the opposite side of the room, where you’re pretty sure you recognise another of yours and Luke’s previous classmates. “Aren’t you two friends?”

“We got into a pretty heated discussion during Thursday Night Football the other night, we’re on a break.”

You almost forgot how quick Luke can be, the slight quiver in the corner of his mouth giving away his attempts at deception, but you’re hardly in any position to call him out on it.

He’s trying to do you a favour, after all.

“In fact, I need you to stay for my protection. He might be out for my neck, you can’t let me die in a Luigi costume, that would be cruel.”

You snort as you take him in in his entirety, from the ridiculous hat, to the stretched out one-piece outfit topped off with a pair of white sneakers.

“Speaking of, aren’t you supposed to have a moustache?”

“It’s in my pocket, didn’t want to make Jack feel bad, ‘cause he can’t grow one and all,” he mutters, reaching into the front of the outfit to retrieve the stick-on prop, the back still taped up and in-tact.

“Right,” you scoff, taking it from his hand and peeling the tape, “Jack can’t grow facial hair.”

You reach forward and press it to his upper lip, holding it in place until it sticks, careful not to actually touch his mouth in the process.

“I can grow it,” he rolls his eyes, “I just don’t suit it.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug as you pull back, admiring the results and trying not to laugh, “I’d say you suit it just fine.”

You reach into the pocket of your own dress to retrieve your phone, and snap a picture just to show him, pressing your lips together as you see his eyes widen in horror.

“Delete that,” he huffs, and you just about manage to stop him before he rips the thing off.

“No,” you whine, “Keep it on, it’s funny!”

“I don’t want to look funny, I want to look cool and hot.” He huffs, frowning when he seemingly realises how ridiculous that sounds.

“Halloween costumes aren’t supposed to be hot.”

“Easy for you to say, Princess,” he gestures down to your dress, and you once again have a visceral reaction to how natural it is for him to say things like that. You feel your ears going warm, and you break eye contact just so that he doesn’t see straight through you.

“I meant to say, sorry about this,” you gesture down, too, all of a sudden feeling every fibre of the costume that’s covering your skin, “I don’t know why I didn’t connect the dots sooner when Ellie said she and Jack were doing Mario and Peach. She just said she’d get me a costume, I didn’t think that we’d be-,”

“A couple?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s no big deal,” Luke shrugs, sipping at his drink with a nonchalant frown. “S’just a costume. Besides, what else could you have been? I don’t think they sell sexy Goomba outfits.”

“Please,” you scoff, swatting lightly at the blue overalls stretched across his chest. “Don’t be ridiculous, if anything, I’d be sexy Toad.”

“Hmm,” he considers, with a long glance down your figure. “That might have actually worked.”

You feel the heat creep back up your neck before you can regulate yourself, not concealed at all by the sweetheart neckline of your dress, or the way Luke’s eye linger on any exposed bit of skin.

You press your lips together and divert your attention to Jack and Ellie in the corner, feeling every extended inch of Luke’s presence beside you, your heart thumping at the mere proximity of him, and you start to chew on your bottom lip.

“Can’t believe we tried so hard to get them together,” you mumble, watching as they start to kiss, “They’re disgusting.”

“Absolutely revolting,” he agrees, “We were out of our minds all summer.”

You know he’s referring to the scheme you two kept up, you’re the one who even brought the topic into conversation, but you can’t help the instinctive way your chest starts to ache again at the mere mention of summer.

The two of you had talked about this, back in Ann Arbor, before he had come back to Jersey. You’re supposed to be over it, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. You swallow thickly before reaching for your drink and chugging down the contents, avoiding his gaze as he watches you.

The thought of leaving crosses your mind again, but there’s a larger part of you that has missed this - missed him, maybe - a little too much, and those weeks back in Michigan last month had only served to weaken your resolve.

Keeping your distance had been a giant failure from the second you started to attempt it, and Luke is persistent - that much has always been obvious - so denying him any sort of contact is just pointless, now.

You had thought, back when he had dropped you off at the house the other week, that turning down his offer of friendship had been the right thing to do. You’d told him you would think about it, but it was always going to end up in rejection.

He’s in Jersey, you’re in Michigan. He has a really hectic schedule and career, and you’re supposed to be putting your head down and studying for your final year.

He broke your heart, and you broke his right back.

But you realise that you were naive to think that your paths would hardly cross.

Your best friend is dating his brother. You have so many mutual friends that you can hardly avoid him when he’s back in town. And beyond all that, you miss the versions of the two of you that just got on - before it all got messy in the summer.

The banter, the inside jokes, the deep understanding of how each other worked.

And you had regretted it since - turning his offer down.

Bringing it back up again is daunting, though. Opening yourself up to him, to say that you’d been thinking about him this whole time, and feel a deep, ever growing pit in your stomach now at the thought of being nothing, just like he had said he felt.

“Listen,” you start, with all intentions of figuring it out as you go along, only now feeling a serious urge to fix things, somehow, before you go back home, tomorrow, “I-,”

“Hold on, I gotta introduce you to someone. Hey, Pesce,” he calls out to his ever so-slightly taller teammate as he passes nearby, waving him to stop by the table the two of you are at before he walks away. He introduces you both by name, and you don’t miss the silent interaction between the two of them as he does, wide eyes and wiggling brows, a telepathic taunt from Brett and a wordless warning from Luke. “She’s my friend from back in Michigan, and he’s been my rehab buddy.”

You allow yourself to be distracted by that - not Ellie’s friend. His. Not a plus one of a plus one, or an outsider hovering around the edges of a private party. Someone he wants his teammates to know.

You like it more than you ever thought you would.

You feel your lips turning up into a natural smile, and a weight lifting off your shoulders - 7 words erasing the need for an entire conversation, already.

You probably could have told him to go fuck himself and that you hated his guts back on the street outside your sorority, and he’d still be out here calling you his friend.

Persistent.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you tell Brett, reaching out to shake his hand, matching his firm grip and meeting his steely gaze.

“You too,” he smiles back, “I’ve heard-,”

“Lukey! Finally got a girl to notice you, huh?”

Another of Luke’s teammates approaches the table, and the absolute comedy of being introduced to a bunch of people in ridiculous costumes isn’t lost on you as he comes closer, a gigantic, teasing smirk almost overshadowed by a glaring red headpiece he wears.

“Nice to see ya, Curtis,” you watch as Luke embraces his other teammate, a wry, crooked grin on his face as he rolls his eyes fondly, and you try to ignore the weight of Brett’s discerning gaze on you. When he introduces you this time, Curtis shows no sign of recognition at your name, offering you a kind smile and extending his hand for you to shake.

“Not talking your head off, is he? We’ve tried to train it out of him, but he’s a stubborn thing,” he chuckles, ruffling Luke’s hair like he’s petting an excitable puppy.

“I’m used to it by now,” you shrug back, smiling when Luke scoffs, returning to your side.

“Nice costume,” Curtis looks Luke up and down, and it’s like you can see him trying to formulate a joke in his head, your lips twisting as you notice Luke anticipating the same, watching with a raised brow and a bored roll of his eyes. “That might be the closest we ever come to seeing you with facial hair.”

“Big talk coming from a dude dressed as shrimp.”

“I’m obviously a lobster, Luke.”

“Obviously,” Luke mimics back like a child, his face sour and his lips pouted as his older teammate just laughs in his face.

“C’mon, man,” Brett claps a hand on Curtis’ back, “Enough bruising the kid’s ego, you owe me a drink, remember?”

He knocks his free fist against Luke’s as he passes, offering you a wink and a nice to meet you before he’s guiding Curtis over to the bar and leaving the two of you alone, once more.

“Sorry about them,” Luke mutters, “I could save them both from a burning building and they’d still treat me like their annoying baby brother.”

“It’s cute,” you shrug, sipping at your drink and catching his eye as they narrow toward you, clearly taking further offence at your choice of adjective. “They do it ‘cause they love you, Luke, it’s sweet.”

You try not to react to what you’ve just said - try not to think of that sentiment in the context of your own interactions with Luke, lightheartedly poking fun at him just to get a reaction because he can be so gut-wrenchingly adorable.

It’s not the same.

But you can tell he’s thinking it too, looking at you with eyes that see straight through you, and a tilt to his head that’s almost mocking.

“I uhm,” he sighs, stepping back a little closer to you and leaning down on the table so that he has to look up to meet your eye, “I told Pesch about you. About us.”

You blink back at him, waiting for him to say more - not really knowing how to respond, because you kind of had a feeling anyway. Brett has the worst poker face you’ve ever seen in your life.

“It’s just been me and him training together, and we were getting to know each other, and you know how it is, he asked me about how I spent my summer, and about girls, and there’s just you for both, so it sorta just came out. Plus, I kinda felt like I had to talk about it with someone or I was gonna go crazy.”

You look down, giving a slight nod of understanding - because you do get it.

Also, the confirmation of something you’ve been wondering is kind of a relief. He hadn’t started anything with anyone else after you left, or back in Michigan, when you were making everything so hard on him.

There’s just him for you, too.

And it’s really hard, having one person consume your thoughts in such a way when you have no outlet to properly talk it through with anyone.

You never felt like you could talk to Ellie about any of it, and having all these feelings fizzing up inside you for so long is starting to make you feel like a volcano on the brink of eruption.

Luke had done the sensible thing, finding an unaffiliated third party and seeking advice from someone with no bias. No scathing comments from his brothers, judgement from any of the guys back in Michigan or pitiful looks from your best friend.

“I didn’t say anything bad,” he assures you, “Not that there is anything bad, I promise I don’t think poorly of you or anything, and I wouldn’t go around telling random people if I did, especially not my teammates, I don’t want you to think-,”

“Luke, it’s fine,” you place a hand on his forearm, his eyes snapping up to meet yours at the slightest touch, wide and alarmed, like he feels like he’s digging himself into a hole. “I get it. Sometimes I feel like I’m gonna go crazy, too.”

“You do?” He frowns, like that was the last thing he expected you to say.

You had told him you were hurt, so it can’t come as that much of a surprise that you feel some type of way about everything that went down between the two of you.

You’re not that heartless.

“What did you say to him?” You ask, hoping to engage with his incessant need to talk, rather than any attempt to eke information out of you. “About us?”

“Just that I didn’t like how we left things,” he tells you as you lean beside him, “It’s hard, not knowing where we stand, or what it’s gonna be like when I see you again. I still get the urge all the time to text you, even about stupid things. Someone was telling me about this Matthew McConaughey movie the other day, and I thought of you. Wanted to ask if you’d seen it.”

“It’s probably safe to assume I’ve seen all the Matthew McConaughey films. Even the bad ones.”

“It wasn’t on your Letterboxd.”

You swat at his bicep, your lips turning slowly into a grin as you can’t help but laugh at how little he cares about hiding his intentions.

You’d caught onto him monitoring your account somewhere between him coincidentally watching Notting Hill a couple days after you did while he was back in Michigan, the five star rating he gave to Call Me By Your Name, and him somehow knowing all the most obscure but gut-wrenching quotes from all the movies that really tore your heart out - writing them in his reviews like he was talking to you in some secret language that only the two of you spoke.

I think I’d miss you even if we never met, from The Wedding Date.

I’ll do anything to make you happy. Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it, from Past Lives.

There will be a piece of you in me always, from Her.

All movies you had listed after going home from the lake house - had laid in bed with teary eyes and trembling lips for the most part, and associated all those same quotes with him, too. And even without you putting them in your own reviews, he just knew every time which part of the movie made you think of your relationship.

You’d even tried baiting him out with Barbie, the other week, snorting to yourself despite your heartache when you imagined him seriously typing out, I only exist within the warmth of your gaze, without it, I'm just a little blonde guy who can't do flips, and hoping you would see it.

If anyone else had done it, it would probably have been corny. You’d have blocked them, the level of perception and lowkey invasion of privacy making your skin crawl - but Luke seeing you was different. Him being on the same wavelength - feeling the same feelings, thinking the same thoughts - was something you couldn’t ignore.

“You’re not supposed to admit to cyber stalking me, you idiot.”

“What?” He chuckles, rubbing at his arm, “I missed watching movies with you.”

He shrugs at that like it’s nothing, but you can feel your cheeks go warm even if his don’t. You missed watching movies with him too - missed the long stretch of his legs far surpassing yours on top of the sheets, and the way he’d hold out candy for you to get some every few minutes.

“Plus, you were stalking me, too. Why else would you be watching The Mighty Ducks on a Saturday night?”

“I thought it might teach me about hockey.” You frown, although you’d been all too caught up with just how cute those movies were. You still know very little about the sport, but you can still appreciate the charm of a young Joshua Jackson.

Luke smiles, lopsided and gentle, but you know by now that’s his version of cocky - the kind of smile that shows you that something you’ve said has scratched at his ego, and he’s banking it somewhere in the back of his head.

“I can teach you,” he says, his voice an octave lower as he leans in - and you know he isn’t doing it on purpose, but it makes the hairs on the back of your arms raise, how he almost purrs over to you. “Can give you a crash course if you want?”

“Now?”

“Nah,” he sips at his drink, “Another time. Need an excuse to text you remember?”

“You can text me whenever,” you tell him, chewing at the corner of your bottom lip as he smirks at you, “Just so you know.”

You don’t tell him that you’ve been waiting for him to do it, anyway.

That for those first few days after he finally left Michigan, every buzz of your phone had your heart rate doubling.

The first instant you had started to regret your decision, you had been hoping he would still try to change your mind.

You don’t tell him you started following a random team update account for news on how he was getting on with his injury, because he wasn’t letting you know, himself, or that you once spent an hour reporting people trolling him or talking smack in the comments just for something to do.

“What about FaceTime?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

To say you were planning on leaving as soon as you had arrived, you enjoyed yourself way more than you thought you would with Luke and his teammates - in fact, you’d probably go as far as to say it’s one of the best nights you’ve had since the summer.

Luke had introduced you to pretty much everybody, flitting around the room and making the rounds, and it had been nice to see how normal and nice everybody was - instantly making you felt like you belonged, to the point where you figured out that Luke had only said all that stuff about feeling like an outsider because he knew that was how you felt, knew it would tug at your heartstrings and make you stay.

You know from how close he is with the guys back in Michigan that Luke loves his teammates, but seeing it in action for the first time had been sweet. Seeing the other guys ruffling at his hair, play fighting, throwing their arms around him and indulging him in his corny jokes kind of made you feel less tense about the way you’re so instinctively affectionate with him.

Even after what had happened toward the end of summer, and swearing off any sort of romantic connection since, you still want to touch him, still want to be near him, and while you don’t think his teammates exactly have those same thoughts, it makes you feel a little more normal, how much they all love him. Makes you feel less like you should be wedging all this distance between the two of you - because if they all love him like this, then why can’t you?

You don’t even realise that Ellie and Jack have long snuck off until you get a text to say not to come back to the hotel, and that Jack’s bed is freshly clean for you to sleep in. The thought of it is gross, but you figure that two athletes will have a comfy couch, so you’re not all that bothered in the end.

Plus, it gives you more time with Luke - to have a proper conversation, to figure things out. So, when it’s time to leave, and he ushers you out of the bar with a hand on the small of your back, you let him cross the boundaries of being nothing, and lean into his touch until you’re out in the cold, wrapping your arms around yourself as he shrugs off his jacket.

“Put this on,” he demands, throwing it to you and watching as you catch it with a clumsy grip, “We’re walking.”

“Walking?” You ask, stumbling to catch up with him as he starts to make his way down the street, his long strides making it incredibly difficult, especially in the stupid costume heels you’re wearing. You ease into his jacket as you move, shaking your arms until your fingers just about peak out of the ends, and relishing the warmth that encapsulates your body.

“Yeah, it’s 10 minutes. I know that sounds like a lifetime in campus terms, but I’m assuming you still know how to walk.”

You scoff as you pretty much jog to keep up, taking rushed, small steps until you just about make it to his side. “I don’t have a car, remember, I walk everywhere. I just assumed we’d be getting an Uber or something."

“S’good for you,” he shrugs, “Clears the mind. And it’s only a few blocks back to the apartment. I can show you all the best breakfast spots for you and Ellie to visit before you leave tomorrow.”

“But it’s dark out.”

“What, you’re scared of the dark, now?” He looks down at you from the corner of his eye, his height advantage meaning you can so clearly see the amused way in which his mouth curves up on the side closest to you.

“I’m scared of being abducted in a back alley and brutally murdered so that my organs can be sold on the black market.”

“That happens more on the other side of the river,” he hooks a thumb in the general direction of what you assume is the Hudson, but it could be anywhere for all you know. This is your first time in New Jersey, and your brief expedition into Manhattan in the morning had done very little to clue you in on the lay of the land.

“Murder is an international issue, Luke, I don’t think they draw the line at what state they do it in, look it up.”

“You watch too much TV,” he chuckles, “Who’s gonna mess with you when I’m around? Look at me,” he gestures down to his ridiculous costume, “I’m the picture of intimidation. You don’t think I’d protect you from the black market organ thieves?”

“You’re dressed like an Italian plumber, you dork, and you’ve got arms like toothpicks, they’d probably kill you first just for fun.” You retort, grabbing at his arm to bring him back to your pace. You almost can’t believe that in the brief expanse of one evening, you could possibly have returned to this level of comfort, but you’re trying not to think too hard about it - especially with a mind partially loosened up by a couple of drinks. “Could you at least slow down? Your legs are like twice the length of mine.”

“Aw,” he pouts, “Do you want me to carry you?”

“Don’t joke, I’d pay good money for a piggy back right now.”

“Shame I’ve got such toothpick arms then, isn’t it?” he fakes an exaggerated smile, and you narrow your eyes until he drops it.

You huff as he carries on, thankful at the slightly slower pace he seems to have adopted, and the way his chin keeps jutting in your direction to check on how well you’re keeping up.

“What about a fireman’s carry?” You suggest, looking up at him with pleading eyes and pouted lips.

“The best you’ll get is me giving you my gloves to wear as socks and I’ll carry your shoes for you.”

“And if I step on glass, cut into a vein and bleed out?”

“I suppose then I’d carry you.”

This feels familiar.

Feels comfortable and right, and when you look back on those nights in September when you had seen him - at the football game, in the living room back at the sorority, and the party at the hockey house, this is what you’d felt like you had been missing.

It doesn’t have to be awkward, or charged, or tense between the two of you.

Maybe it can be like this again.

Like it was in the beginning, before everything got messed up.

“I meant to ask earlier,” he nudges at you with his elbow, “Ellie said you had an appointment over in Midtown,”

“You’re such a stalker,” you snort, shaking your head with a wry smile as you glance over at him, “Literally the snoopiest guy I’ve ever met.”

“Snoopiest?” He scoffs, “It’s called curiosity. I can’t wonder what my friend did with their day, now? I’m snoopy?”

“There’s a masters programme at NYU,” your eyes dart down to the floor as you start to tell him, figuring that you’ll feel less nervous if it just feels like you’re speaking in general, instead of confiding in him. There’s also a part of you spurred on by his immediate adoption of you being his friend - still reeling from the ease in which he had been introducing you as such to everyone all night. Opening up to him is just as easy, and now that you’re embracing the dynamic, it’s like the pieces that form all the resistance within you are shifting out of place, creating a bunch of cracks for him to seep straight into. “One of my sorority sisters has a cousin who’s in her final year, she set up a meeting so that I could talk about my application.”

“You’re applying to NYU?” He asks, quickening his step until he is a little ahead of you, turning on his feet until he’s walking backwards, giving you no chance of ignoring his presence anymore.

“I’m thinking about it,” you shrug, “It isn’t a done deal, so don’t tell anybody.”

“I can keep a secret,” he promises, and that same ache starts to form in your chest again, at just how well you know that to be true.

“Plus, it’s a long-shot, so even if I did apply, I probably wouldn’t get in, and I don’t want to get Ellie’s hopes up that I’ll be sticking around.”

You have a job lined up elsewhere already for when you graduate - an entry level role in a PR agency over in Chicago, close to home, close to your mom - but the more you’re considering it, the less sure you are. The job would be pretty much you getting taken advantage of for being a recent graduate, and furthering your education could help secure something bigger and better. But throwing away a sure thing seems stupid, and you don’t really want to do so if you don’t have something else secured.

“Getting into the NHL is a long shot, and you’ve just spent the night in a room full of people who made it happen,” Luke tells you, ducking his head a little lower until you look him in the eye, “Don’t underestimate yourself, you’re really smart, you’ll get in if you do end up applying.”

The way he says it is so sure - so different to anybody else, who you feel like is just saying it to make you feel better. Luke believes it, you can see it in the way he looks at you, confident and certain of your abilities more than you’ve ever been in yourself.

“I don’t think you can call you getting into the NHL a long shot, unfortunately,” you tell him, your lips twisting in the corner as you bite back a smile when he starts to frown.

“Not you too with the nepotism stuff,” he scoffs, only partially feigning offence.

You swat at his chest, “Hey, I’d never,” you gasp, “I meant ‘cause you’re so talented.”

“I bet you did,” he snorts, falling back into step beside you, a little closer this time, your elbows knocking as you continue to walk. “Haven’t even played yet this season, what would you know about my talent?”

You think it’s the way he’s leaning in a little that seems to hypnotise you, rendering you a speechless, practically-spluttering mess as you struggle to form words or a single, coherent thought. You wonder if this is how he felt, all those times when you turned on the charm and innuendo and purposely tried to push his buttons. Defenceless and weak.

“I’ll tell you what I do have a talent for,” he straightens up a little, increasing the space between you so that you feel like you can at least breathe again. “Important old man voice. If you ever need to put someone down as a phoney reference.”

“I’ll bare that in mind when the NYU admissions board loosens their policy on Kevin McAllister level schemes, thanks,” you chuckle, your smile lingering when he returns it, cheeks folding into a lopsided grin.

“Hey, give a guy some credit, there’s a little Ferris Bueller in there too.”

“Yeah, ‘cause schools love Ferris Bueller types.” You scoff, “You’re such an idiot.”

You glance over to see him pretty much beaming in response, and, if you were a betting person, you’d put all your money on knowing his exact train of thought.

You have a tell, after all, you remember, for when you’re enjoying yourself more than you think you should be.

Walking back to his apartment gives the two of you a little time to properly catch up - away from tense conversations and teary admissions - he tells you about his training, you tell him about school, and it feels like seconds pass before he’s ushering you into his building with that same guided hand on your lower back, the heat of his touch felt even through his jacket, and into the elevator.

You stand by his side as it slowly ascends, hands buried in the warmth of his jacket pockets and ever so often meeting his eye in the reflection of mirrored doors before you glance away with a flush to your cheeks.

Every time you look back, he’s smiling a little, soft and small, but sure of himself in a way that makes all those hardened parts of you melt a little inside.

There’s something different about him that you can’t quite put your finger on - something in the way he carries himself, around his teammates, around you, even just in general - like he stands taller, somehow. Like here in Jersey, he makes a point to hold himself up a little more, and it makes you cherish the version of him you had, those months ago - vulnerable and raw.

You hadn’t appreciated at the time, just how much of himself he gave to you - all the little quirks and insights you got to see - but you appreciate them, now.

“I had fun tonight,” you tell him, smiling instinctively when he meets your eye, “Thanks for not letting me leave.”

“Thanks for not leaving,” he chuckles, the doors opening in front of you and that hand going straight to your back again until he’s guiding you towards his apartment. “It’s been nice just talking to you again, I missed it.”

“Me too,” you admit, because there’s really no use in keeping it bottled up when he’s so freely opening himself up to you. He so easily tells you that he misses you, and wants to speak to you, and it enjoys your company, so you not doing the same only feels like you’re doing yourself a disservice - especially when admitting as much back to him earns you one of those cute, crooked smiles he’s so good at giving.

He holds open the door for you and you have to brush past him to go in, but your hesitance to touch has long dissipated throughout the night, so you don’t entirely mind when he follows you straight in, and you can feel the heat of his presence.

“Are you wanting to go straight to bed?” He asks, hand on your waist as he passes you and heads for the kitchen, flicking on the lights under the cabinets and getting two glasses down from one of the cupboards.

“I probably should,” you huff, despite wanting to stretch this out with Luke - your mind going back to I miss watching movies with you, and considering flopping down onto the couch and putting something on, for old time’s sake. “Is your couch comfy? I don’t really want to sleep in Jack’s bed.”

“You can sleep in mine,” he offers, before he even has a second to consider it.

“Oh, I don’t know-,”

“I’ll go in Jack’s, it’s fine,” he nods down the hall, gesturing you to follow as he carries two glasses of water, knocking the handle to the room on the left until the door opens and letting you go in first.

The sheets are the same as on his bed back at the lake house, and it’s the first thing that takes you aback, a familiar grey-blue comforter that you already feel the softness of from across the room, and a cream throw haphazardly thrown across the top.

You can tell the sheets aren’t entirely fresh - slightly crumpled, and not-very-neatly made, pillows askew - but if you’re sleeping in Luke’s bed, weirdly enough, you would probably prefer it that way.

“Sorry, I should have tidied up a little,” he chuckles nervously as he passes you to place a glass down on the nightstand.

“It’s fine,” you shrug, stepping forward just to fall down onto his bed - the mattress plush enough that you already feel yourself sinking into it, tension easing away from your muscles.

You’re kind of glad you kept an eye on him, watching his gaze shift to the way your dress now rides up on your thighs, and the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows thickly before looking away.

“I’ll just get something to change into then I’ll get outta your hair,” he mumbles, trying to busy himself with something else as a distraction. Just before he can pass you to his closet, you reach out to grab at his wrist, and it’s almost like muscle memory is forcing you to do so - something within you not allowing him to get away.

He’s in front of you now, close enough that you kind of have to crane your neck the whole way to look up at him, and you watch as his eyes drag slowly from the point of contact to meet yours, every movement he makes unhurried and purposeful.

“I just wanted to say thank you again, for tonight,” you start, speaking without any real plan as to what you want to say, but wanting to keep him just a little longer, “For keeping me company, and letting me stay in here-,”

“It’s no big deal-,”

“And for not letting me push you away.”

It might be the first time you’ve ever owned up to it - being the master of your own downfall, or the downfall of your relationship with Luke, and anything you still could have been after the fact - and it isn’t easy, admitting that you’re the problem.

But you feel like you owe it to him, as a reward for all this resilience in the face of your constant rejection. He’s been nothing but patient, and you’ve been nothing but hard work, and you’re willing to admit, now, that you’re done with it.

He smiles, eyes knowing, the relieved, breathy sigh he gives dissolving all the guilt that’s building in the depths of your gut, and sinks down beside you on the bed, his thigh brushing yours as he settles in.

Hours ago, being this close would have terrified you. You’d have shut down, turned away, shuffled across the sheets until there was a healthy distance between the two of you, but you don’t move. You just turn, a little, to be able to meet his eye.

“Are you saying you’re done with that?” He asks, a little hesitant, assuming, probably, that you won’t be entirely open with him.

But you nod, chewing at the corner of your bottom lip as he presses his own together, eyes darting a little lower.

“So we’re friends?” He asks, his voice low, the depth of it causing a weird vibration to wrack down your body - a buzz that won’t go away, now that he’s this close, and he’s looking at you the way he is.

“If that’s what you still want to be.”

The thought of him changing his mind makes you a little dizzy, an ache growing in your chest again at the thought of being nothing - but you’d deserve it, you think, after all the times you turned him down.

It would hurt, but, as always, it would be your own doing.

“And we won’t ever be more?”

The pleading tone in which he asks makes the back of your throat go dry, and all you can do to respond, now, is shake your head. Slowly, and hesitantly, but it shakes all the same, tears welling in the corners of your eyes as you take in his resigned acceptance.

And then, something shifts.

A subtle shake of his head, as if he’s fighting an inner monologue, and then an assured switch in his demeanour - a tilt of his head as he surveys your reluctance, and the swipe of his tongue to wet his lips, like he’s preparing to fight back.

“If I kissed you right now,” he asks, voice still low, eyes lower, pinned to the curve of your lips as they part as if by instinct, “Would you tell me to stop?”

“Luke,” you warn, no more than a whisper as you watch his lips too, “We can’t.”

“That’s not what I asked,” his eyes trail slowly up until your gazes meet, and his head tilts again in question, blinking heavily before he asks, “Would you push me away?”

Your lips form around a response that you can’t even think to give back, opening around an answer you’re not ready to give at all, and all your body wants to do is deny. You fight the urge to shake your head, but you think that it’s a losing battle, especially considering how much your brain feels like it’s being rattled around anyway.

You don’t know what you do to make him move forward, but you figure by now you don’t actually have to do anything. He can probably read your mind at this point, spurred on no doubt by the way your eyelids flutter closed when he’s close enough, and the tip of his nose presses to yours, slow, heavy breaths falling into the decreasing space between the two of you.

You should stop him. You know that.

It isn’t good for either of you, letting this carry on, leaving the edges of your relationship so frayed that even the smallest tug could pull the whole thing apart, thread by thread.

You should tell him to stop, should push him away, should hold a lighter to the loose ends and singe them together to prevent further damage. You’ve only just settled on friends, and now you’re not sure, again.

But the second he gets this close, you’re not in charge, anymore.

It’s like some force of nature takes over, brings the two of you together like tectonic plates meeting, and causing unfathomable destruction to both of your hearts in the aftermath.

His kiss is so instantly tender that it hurts already, tears prickling at the seams of your scrunched-closed eyes, and all you can do is push through the pain. You kiss him back, lips closing around his again and again as your faces smush together, and you start to feel the passion consume him - something takes over almost like an urgency, where you’re clawing at his the front of his costume and he’s clutching at your waist, doing anything physically possible to close whatever gap still sits between you.

The pressure of his lips is almost bruising, now, but you like it that way - soft exhales puffing out from his nose so that he doesn’t have to part to catch his breath, fingers pressing so hard into your flesh that you hope they leave a mark.

He tastes just how you remember, and it takes you back all those months to summer - to stolen kisses over centre consoles and making out in his bed when everyone else was out. There’s a part of you that feels giddy with it, just like you had then, partaking in something so precious that was just for the two of you, and it starts to distract you from what this actually is.

A mistake.

You pull away instead of pushing, bringing your chin back until your lips part with much effort, a hmmph and a furrow of your brow, and you can’t bring yourself to open your scrunched eyes, not yet, but you know when he’s going to chase.

“Luke,” you whisper in warning before your eyes flutter open and you peer up at him through your lashes. He looks so soft, you think, despite all the ways he tries not to. Despite the sharp line of his jaw, and the hardened look in his eyes. You feel your walls crumbling at just the sight of him - defenceless to his charms, once again, because how much could Luke possibly hurt you? “Friends don’t do that.”

“Maybe our friendship starts tomorrow,” he hums back, “Maybe we get this out of our systems one more time.”

And it’s sitting on the precipice of that feeling you’ve been chasing since July that has you considering it - ever so close to finally getting closure on whatever the two of you were, or could have been.

Getting it out of your system sounds healthy. Sounds like a clean slate, a fresh start, and you have no doubt that if you’re going to be friends with Luke Hughes, that it’s exactly what you need in order to do so.

Because, if you’re honest, it’s that exact thing that’s been holding you back this entire time - closure. With such an abrupt end to what the two of you had, how could you ever possibly close that chapter mid-sentence? How could you ever move on?

“One more time,” you try to sound stern, try to convince yourself of your own words, “Then we have to let this go.”

“You got it.”

“No more Luke, I mean it.” You have to push down this feeling of impending doom, or you’ll never get anywhere, but you need to warn him one last time, just to be safe. “Strictly friends after tonight.”

“I already agreed, can you please just let me kiss you again?”

“Okay, fine, just,” you huff, hands splayed across his broad chest and pushing until your bodies part, his butt shuffling back on the bed. “Take the costume off, first, I’m not feeding into whatever dorky cosplay fetish you probably have.”

You’re only part joking, but it’s the only way you know how to relieve the tension a little, and your nerves start to dissipate at his reaction.

He chuckles, with the kind of cocky smile that makes your heart jump, reaching behind himself to unzip the back of his costume with an affectionate shake of his head. He stands, then, to shuck it off, the whole thing dropping off of him until he kicks it across the floor, towards his laundry hamper, then stands in just his briefs, which are slung low on his waist. “You can keep yours on, I don’t mind,” he tells you when you’re distracted by the taut, defined lines on his stomach, eyes trailing slowly up to meet his, gleaming back at you.

“You’d love that wouldn’t you,” you scoff, watching as he draws closer, shuffling back a little on the bed to accommodate him, “You absolute freak.”

“You can’t sit there and pretend you don’t want me to call you princess again.” He smirks, bending down until his hands are on either side of your hips, and you’re leaning back with your fingers pressed into his sheets and your head craned back to meet his eye, “Saw you getting all flustered about it, earlier.”

“Shut up,” you huff, curling a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him down into you - the two of you colliding in a clumsy, messy kiss. His body crawls over yours, encapsulating you entirely in an intoxicating warmth, and you find yourself melting into his every touch - large hands running down your sides, settling on your waist, and the other easing its way under the skirt of your costume.

You put both hands to use too, one remaining behind his neck, scratching into the grown out curls that sit there and tugging when he starts to tickle up your thigh, the other on the warm skin of his chest - the rampant thud of his heart beating against your palm.

One more time, just to get him out of your system.

And then you can be friends.

What could possibly go wrong?

another a/n: I'll try to finish the next part asap!! thank you for reading, I know this was long lmao!! would love to hear your thoughts!!!!

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #luke hughes fluff #*writing #GUYS GUYS GUYS I HOPE YOU LOVE THIS I GENUINELY HAVE SO MUCH FUN WITH THESE TWO #AND I HAD SO MUCH FUN AFTER LET IT HAPPEN #SO THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE ON IT!!!! I FEEL LIKE WE ALL BUILT SOMETHING MAGIC TOGETHER

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