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sluttywonwoo · 2 years ago

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no nut november — i.n (loser #2)

pairing: yang jeongin x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (18+), dry humping, messing around with clothes on

a/n: part of @gimmeurtmi and i's collab <3

word count: 2.9k

To say you were suspicious when Minho approached you at the surprise birthday party Jisung threw for him (over a week late) would be an understatement. He was one of the friends who would only come to you when he needed something, and you assumed this time was no different.

“Happy birthday?” you offer, wondering if that’s what he was expecting.

He’s unfazed by your greeting in the form of a question and just smiles, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Thanks.”

You stare at him for a moment, waiting for him to get to whatever it was he wanted from you but he stares right back with that stupid grin of his.

“So, um, were you surprised?”

“Not really. Hannie talks in his sleep and he crashed while we were watching a movie together the other night. But hey, anyway, you like Jeongin, right?”

You’d have whiplash by now if you weren’t so used to Minho’s abrupt subject changes. This one, however, did manage to catch you a bit off guard.

“Of course I do. He’s a good friend.”

“But you like him as more than a friend.” He wasn’t asking, he was stating.

You blink, stunned. “Wh- I don’t-”

“Come on, don’t play dumb. I can see the way you look at him when you think no one’s paying attention.”

Well fuck. If Minho of all people had noticed your crush on Jeongin, who else knew? Did Jeongin know? Did everybody know?

“Relax, I'm not going to tell him,” he continues when he sees the look on your face. That wasn’t necessarily what you were worried about but good to know nonetheless. He sneaks a look at the younger member from across the room as he talks. “I just thought that you should know that he likes you too.”

“What? How do you know that?”

“You know I’m like one of his best friends, right?

“I-I mean, yeah, but...”

“And we live together, he literally never shuts up about you,” Minho adds. He raises his eyebrows expectantly but you don’t say anything. You don’t know what to say. “You don’t believe me?”

“No, it’s not that I don’t believe you… it’s just, why are you telling me?”

Minho shrugs. “Think of it as a favor.”

“Since when have you done anyone a favor?”

“Ouch.”

“I’m serious,” you insist warily. “You’re acting weird. Why are you suddenly so invested in me and Jeongin? You have to have some kind of stake in this.”

Minho sighs and drops his head, which confirms your suspicions. “Okay, fine. Here’s the deal...”

Jeongin’s pleasantly surprised when you approach him at Minho’s birthday party. You’re one of his good friends but it’s rare that the two of you ever spend time alone together. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, he just gets so nervous around you. He can barely get a word out when you’re in the room, which is why when he sees you making your way across the room he prays for strength and holds his breath.

“Hey,” you say casually, sliding into the seat next to him, and Jeongin feels his heart rate pick up almost immediately. “Bored already?”

Jeongin chuckles. “What gave it away?”

“Well, you’re sitting over here all by yourself. It wasn’t very hard to guess.”

“Yeah, I guess I should mingle more,” he sighs and puts his hands on his knees to push himself up.

“Wait, but not now! I just got here.”

Jeongin’s half-relieved he doesn’t have to move from his spot, half-panicked because now he’s forced to have this one on one conversation with you. He started sweating the minute you walked in the door how the fuck was he supposed to get through this in one piece.

“Oh, right, sorry.”

“Did you get Minho a birthday present?” you ask, thankfully skirting right past Jeongin trying to ditch you.

He nods. “I did.”

“What’d you get him?”

“It’s a secret.”

“You didn’t get him anything, did you?”

“Would you believe me if I said it was in the mail?”

“No.”

“I forgot,” Jeongin admits sheepishly. “I always get the guys birthday gifts after the fact. I’m terrible at that stuff.”

“You can just add your name to mine, if you want,” you offer. “People group us together all the time anyway.”

“Wha- they do?”

“Yeah, you know like whenever I show up at the dorms the boys are always like ‘Jeongin’s in his room’, ‘Jeongin will be right out’. ‘Jeongin isn’t here right now, I thought he’d be with you’. Do they not say that stuff to you?”

“Uh, no. Not really.”

Probably because they all know about his giant fucking crush on you.

“Oh.”

You sound disappointed. Fuck. How does he always manage to put his foot in his mouth?

“I mean, because they just tease me right in front of you anyway.”

“They just like giving you a hard time,” you reason.

“So you’re on their side now?”

You crook an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize there were sides.”

“There are.”

“Then I’m on your side, obviously.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Cause you’re friends with all of us, not just me.”

“Yeah, but you’re my favorite.”

Jeongin isn’t sure if he totally believes you but he’s elated regardless. He beams at you.

“You’re my favorite too.”

He doesn’t know why, but after Minho’s birthday party, things between him and you feel different. The next time he sees you is on that Saturday, the fifth. You come over for game night like you do every weekend, and you take your spot next to Jeongin as usual. Everything seems normal. But it isn’t. Jeongin can feel it in the stiffness of your posture, in the nervous tapping of your foot against the hardwood floor.

The night progresses as smoothly as any other game night, with Jeongin losing every single one, but he can’t shake the feeling that something’s off.

You’re not mad at him, he knows that. You still laugh at his dumb jokes, you still let him cheat off of you, both good signs.

When Felix calls for a break, Jeongin takes the opportunity to lean over and check in.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You jump in your seat a little like you hadn’t been expecting him to address you, which was fair because he was usually too much of a coward to, and turn to face him. “Hm? Oh yeah, I’m fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Yup. Just fine.”

“Not good?”

“Neither good, nor bad,” you say with a shrug.

“Why? Is something wrong?”

You open your mouth to answer but Felix’s voice from the kitchen cuts you off as he calls out to suggest that the group of you watch a movie instead of finishing the game of Uno you were currently playing.

“You never want to watch movies,” Hyunjin says, scrunching his face in confusion.

“Yeah, you’re only suggesting that because you’re losing!” Seungmin adds.

Felix comes into the room, hands on his hips, and lips pursed. “Do you want to watch How to Train Your Dragon or not?”

Seven and a half minutes later, you’re all on the couch watching Hiccup struggle with his daddy issues. Jeongin didn’t have much say in the matter but you had seemed eager to watch the movie so obviously he was… also eager. To watch the movie.

A lot of the guys’ girlfriends were over so you asked Jeongin to share a blanket with you, seeing as there were only so many to go around.

He agrees, of course, even though he isn’t cold. If anything, he’s overly warm. He hopes you can’t feel the heat radiating from his body.

It’s hard to focus on the movie with you so close, not that he was really interested in it in the first place, but then you snuggle close to Jeongin and rest your head on his shoulder and his brain short circuits. You must feel his body tense because you sit back up immediately after, frowning.

“No, you can lay back down,” Jeongin insists, going as far as craning his neck in the opposite direction to give you more room.

“I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you mumble.

“Why would I be uncomfortable?” he asks.

“Because you’re being all weird.”

“I’m not-”

“Hey, you two,” Jisung hisses from the other couch, “could you keep it down? Some of us are trying to watch the movie.”

Jeongin apologizes and you shift away from him, crossing your arms over your chest. He’s really done it now. He tries to remedy the situation by scooting closer but you don’t even look at him.

From across the room, Jeongin makes eye contact with Minho, who gives him a look as if to say what the fuck are you doing?

Minho’s been trying to get Jeongin to make a move on you for months now, claiming to be tired of listening to him pine over you from afar, but Jeongin knows his friend really just wants him to be happy, put himself out there and all that. Minho’s been especially insistent ever since the eight of them made that stupid bet. He’s somehow under the impression that if Jeongin tells you how he feels it’ll eliminate him as competition. But for that to happen, you would have to like him back.

He doubts he’ll win No Nut November anyway, girlfriend or not. Hell, half the reason he acts so strange around you is because he’s using up all of his energy trying not to get hard. All you have to do is smile at him and his dick will twitch in his pants. In fact, he knows tonight after you go home he’ll just lay in bed, hard and aching with thoughts of you as he wills his cock to soften on its own.

But at least he wouldn’t be the first loser. Jisung made sure of that by losing on the second day of the month. Everyone saw it coming.

Jeongin’s pulled from his thoughts by the sound of you yawning.

“Are you tired?” he asks softly, not wanting to get scolded by his members for talking again.

“A little.”

“Do you want to lay down in my room? You could stay the night if you want, I know it’s getting late.”

“That’d be great, Innie, thanks.” You smile sleepily at him and reach for his hand. “Will you come with me? I don’t want to go by myself, I’d feel weird.”

Jeongin nods, brain going on autopilot as he takes your hand and leads you to his bedroom. No one questions where the two of you are going, either too engrossed in the movie to notice, or too uninterested to care.

You flop down on his bed as soon as the door’s shut behind you. Jeongin chuckles.

“Make yourself comfortable.”

“I will,” you hum.

Despite the fact that the two of you don’t spend much time together, it isn’t uncommon for you to end up in Jeongin’s bed. He offers it to you whenever you decide to stay over because he doesn’t want you driving yourself home if you’re tired or if you’ve been drinking. He always takes the couch even though you’ve pointed out that his bed is big enough for the both of you. He doesn’t trust himself not to embarrass himself if he were to entertain the idea.

“I know you wore jeans tonight so you can borrow something of mine to sleep in if you want.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I can just sleep in my underwear,” you say as you start to unzip your pants. “Unless that bothers you?”

Jeongin’s eyes widen at the sight and he spins on his heel to face the wall and give you privacy.

“N-no, that’s fine,” he squeaks out.

“You don’t have to turn away, Jeongin. It’s not like I’m a stranger.”

He ignores you and only turns back around once he hears you slide underneath the covers, knowing that he’d instantly get hard if he did any sooner.

“I know, I just... uh, let me know if you need anything else,” he says and heads for the door.

“Wait,” you call after him. “Won’t you stay with me?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he says slowly.

You huff in frustration and throw back the covers. “I-I don’t understand. I should have never listened to Minho-”

“Minho? What’s Minho got to do with this?”

You look guilty all of the sudden, and Jeongin’s drops as his brian conjures up every possible scenario that involves you and Minho talking about him. None of them are good.

“Y/n?” he prompts again.

“He told me that he knew I had feelings for you and that you had feelings for me too, and then he told me about that idiotic bet you all made and tried to get me in on it, I guess to seduce you or something? But obviously he doesn’t know what he’s talking about because you don’t even like me!”

It’s entirely too much information for Jeongin’s brain to process at once. All he can focus on is that you have feelings for him???

“You have feelings for me?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“Did you listen to anything else I just said?” you huff.

“Not really.”

“Yes, I’ve had a big fat crush on you for forever now, thanks for noticing.”

“Really?”

“Really. Are you going to make me say it again?”

“I kind of want to,” Jeongin admits, finally feeling brave enough to approach you on his bed.

“That’s mean.”

“Why? I have a crush on you too, silly.”

You blink in surprise. “What?”

“Minho wasn’t messing with you. He was right.”

“You like me?”

“How could I not?”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” you scoff.

Jeongin rolls his eyes at you and pouts. “You just make me nervous, okay? I can’t function around a pretty girl.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

He nods and takes your hand. “The prettiest.”

He’s not sure who makes the next move, probably you, but then you’re kissing. Your arms are wrapped around Jeongin’s neck, pulling him down close to you as he slips his tongue into your mouth. Clumsily, he climbs onto the bed with you and slots himself in between your legs, moaning into your mouth a little when his hand brushes against your bare thigh.

You already sound breathy and desperate for him and it spurs him on further, hips grinding into you instinctively. He’s practically fully hard in his sweats, there’s no way you can’t feel it, but you don’t seem to mind. If anything, it turns you on even more.

You’re the first to break away, though, pushing on Jeongin’s chest to put more distance between you. “Wait, wait, the bet! Don’t you want to win?”

He doesn’t even need to think about it. “Fuck the bet.”

Jeongin kisses you again, letting his hands travel beneath your shirt and up to your tits. He traces your curves, outlining each one, before moving down to your underwear. It seems that you have a similar train of thought because you reach for the waistband of his pants at the same time, but he stops you with a sheepish grin.

“This is really embarrassing, but I haven’t jerked off in like a week so I won’t last long.”

You smile against his lips. “It’s okay, Innie. We can just go again if you cum too fast. We have all the time in the world now.”

The assurance is all he needs to relax. You begin to palm him over his sweats and it becomes very apparent to Jeongin that he’s going to cum way faster than he wants to. He whines, actually whines, and bucks his hips into your hand.

“Shhh, the others are still outside,” you remind him.

“S-sorry.”

You giggle and pull him in for another kiss as he fumbles for the waistband of your panties, wanting to make you feel good too. He dips his thumb beneath the fabric, lower and lower until you’re moaning and arching your back off the bed.

“Fuck, yeah, just like that,” you whisper.

Jeongin keeps his thumb on your clit, rubbing slow circles, while he works the rest of his hand into your underwear. He figures that if he can’t make you cum on his cock, his fingers will have to do. He’s been told that he has nice hands on more than one occasion, and he’s gotten good reviews from partners in the past, so it’s kind of like a failsafe for him.

“Shit, you’re wet,” Jeongin breathes.

“Do you believe I like you now?”

For some reason, that’s what does it for him. He shudders and falls forward into you as he cums in his pants.

“Oh god, sorry, sorry,” he groans.

There’s so much of it too, it seeps through the material of his sweatpants and onto your hand and he’s mortified.

“Don’t be sorry, baby,” you soothe, rubbing his back as he comes down. “You told me it was going to happen, I expected it.”

“But still.”

“It really isn’t a big deal, Innie. If anything, I think it’s hot that I have that effect on you. And you can go again right?”

He nods eagerly. “Yes! Yeah, just give me like, ten minutes.”

You laugh and pet his hair. “Well in that case, I can think of a lot of things we can do in ten minutes, can’t you?”

nnn tags: @doesthismeannothingtoyou @yellowroses-world @allyoops @thelostverse @karlitaburrito @lydataylorsversion @septemberkisses @caticorn61 @multifandomtrash-dree @cixrosie @mchslut @cutiequokka

#no nut november skz #nnn skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x female reader #i.n smut #i.n x reader #jeongin smut #jeongin x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #flashing tw

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augustjustice · 1 year ago

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The Ole Harrington Charm

AO3 Link

Steve is in a dry spell.

Well…okay, it’s technically not a dry spell. He’s going on plenty of dates, he just–can’t seem to find that special spark that tells him this is the one.

Steve’s starting to question if he’s off his game, or something. If his flirting is to blame, that might explain why things are all downhill from there.

“I mean…what do you guys think?” he asks Robin–and Eddie, currently loitering around on a surprisingly slow Thursday afternoon at Family Video. “Is there something I’m doing that’s just–not working?”

“As someone who was there to witness the millions of times you struck out at Scoops, I can definitely say that what you’re doing now is leagues ahead of whatever that was.”

Steve huffs. “It was not millions, Robin. And, yeah, sure, okay, but if I’m so much better now…why doesn’t it ever work out past the first date?”

Eddie slaps an uneven rhythm on the counter, pushing up from where he’d been slouching against it. There’s a challenging gleam in his eye, the same kind he gets when he’s struck with an idea for one of his campaigns.

“Alright, big boy. Lay it on me.”

“What?”

“Come on, wow me with those irresistible flirtation skills that had the ladies lining up for you back in school, and I’ll tell you how you do.”

What’s he got to lose?

Steve decides to lay it on thick. Might as well pull out all the stops, and besides…Eddie always hams it up when he’s pretending to flirt with Steve. Turning around is fairplay, or however it goes.

Leaning a casual elbow on the counter, Steve turns his most charming smile on Eddie.

“Hi, there. I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. And I would absolutely remember a face like yours.” Shooting Eddie a wink, he reaches out and tugs at his battle vest, brushing his fingers against Eddie’s chest while he gets a “better look” at his pins and patches. ”Judas Priest, huh? Not sure I’ve heard their stuff.”

Maybe not the best tactic with Eddie, but that’s what he would do usually, bring up something the other person seemed interested in. Long gone were the King Steve days of ‘act like you don’t care.’

”Why don’t you tell me about them while I help you find what you’re looking for. You look like a horror section guy to me. And, you know, scary movies make a great pick for date night. Perfect to snuggle up to.”

“Lame,” Robin declares. “And cliche.”

“No one asked you, Robin,” Steve rolls his eyes, “Eddie’s the judge here.”

Only then does he realize Eddie is frozen in place, a faint pink tinging his cheeks.

“Nuh–” Eddie swallows, his voice cracking in the middle of whatever he was trying to say. “No, man, the, uh…Harrington charm is definitely not on the fritz. You’ve got nothing to worry about there.”

“Cool,” Steve brightens, before adding smoothly, “So, Saturday, horror movie, your place?”

“Good one, Harrington.”

“Eds,” Steve reaches out, covering Eddie’s hand, “I’m serious.”

“Saturday night, huh? Alright, Stevie, you’re on. It’s a date.”

They’re both grinning dopily when Steve does a celebratory fist pump, not bothering to hide it. Shaking her head, Robin laughs.

Oh, yeah. He’s definitely still got it.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficseptember #robin buckley #buckington besties #brotp: three muskequeers #my stuff #my writing #my things

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schoopsahoy · 2 years ago

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i’ve been dying to get you dizzy

steve harrington x roller-rink!reader {5.8k} part 2 to whip it you and steve have been casually dating for a few weeks now, he’s trying to take things slow but then you invite him to stay the night. 18+ mdni steve still being a simp for reader. fluff/smut. no use of y/n. reader uses she/her pronouns.

cw: fingering, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v sex

The sight of Steve leaning against his car in the parking lot of your work is still one that makes you a little giddy. The pink and gold of the sky cascading down on him in a soft light, reflecting off his skin and dousing him in a warm glow was something straight out of a movie, the boy lit up all golden and auric as he waits for you to finish your shift.

You practically skip over to him, holding onto the strap of your bag to keep it in place on your shoulder as you cross the warm concrete. “Hey, Stevie.” You beam, instantly throwing your arms around his neck when you reach him to pull him in for a hug.

Steve would never admit to anyone that he lets you call him Stevie, let alone that he likes it. The way you say it always coated in affection that warms his chest. “Hey, you. How was work?” His words are muffled into your hair as he hugs you tighter, arms around your waist.

“Looks pretty bad, sweetheart.” He frowns at the injury, hand instinctively moving to yours to run his thumb over the back of it.

“S’pretty sore, but makes me look tough, don’t ya think?” You shrug, a little grin on the corners of your mouth.

“Super tough.” He nods in agreement, mirroring your smile. Every time you two were together, Steve felt like it was a little too good to be true. Everything you said or did seemed so effortless but it still had his mind running crazy, his heart even more so. Ever since you started hanging out, away from your work or the prying eyes of his friends, he had to remind himself that it was all real and you genuinely wanted to see him. He’d made a mental note to take things slow, to not fuck this up or scare you off, but it was harder than it sounded when you were next to him all sugared up smiles and gentle touches.

“I know I said we should go for food tonight but I’m totally spent.” You chew on the inside of your cheek, twisting your body from side to side a little and making the hem of your skirt shift higher against your thighs. “D’you want to just get a take out? You can stay over too, if you want? Save you driving back in the dark.”

Steve feels like he’s been shocked, his entire body buzzing with something - excitement, maybe? Or nerves, or a mix of the two most likely. “Sure we can, whatever you want.” He hopes you don’t notice how hard he had to focus to force the words out, praying they came out casual and not in a croak of nerves.

“You’re the best, Stevie.” You go on your tip-toes to kiss him again, tasting like bubblegum and cherries and sweets and all the other sugary things you should have in moderation, something Steve doesn’t think he can manage with you. “And you’ll stay?” Your eyes are big and bright as you look up at him through your lashes, a hopeful smile on your face that he knows he has no chance of turning down.

“As long as you want me to.” He gives your hand a light squeeze.

“Of course I do, silly, S’why I offered.” You squeeze his hand back before letting go to finally make your way to the passenger side, Steve making sure he gets there first so he can open the door for you. It’s the sweet little gestures that have your heart beating faster, simple acts of devotion that seem so insignificant from the outside but are really unspoken words of so much more.

It’s not a long drive to your place from the rink, only about 15 minutes if you get lucky with traffic. Steve’s hand finds its place on your thigh for most of the journey, his touch barely there but still comforting. You occasionally trace along his fingers, or around its outline on your skin, just mindless touches whilst you listen to him talk about his day. You think you could just sit and watch him forever, have him talk about anything and you’d listen.

You direct Steve around the streets of your hometown, he’d picked you up from work a few times now but you usually spent your time together in Hawkin’s. Your apartment is along Main Street, a little one bed that sits above a flower shop. It’s not much, but you’d been determined to move out and be independent whilst you’re in college so you’re content with the small space you got to call your own.

“There’s a little lot around the back of the shops you can park in, just turn down here.” You lean forward in your seat to point to the small side road, Steve nodding and following your instructions to lead you both into the car park.

Steve pulls into the spot you point out, the one closest to the metal steps that lead up to your door. Now he’s here, in front of your place where he’s agreed to spend the night, his breathing gets a little quicker. He tries to keep it quiet, not wanting you to notice that he’s slightly freaking out.

“C’mon handsome, the takeout won’t order itself.” You grin at him, your house keys dangling on your pointer finger along with a collection of keyrings that all jangle together and glisten in the evening sun. You open the passenger door and step out the car, standing at the bottom of the staircase whilst Steve locks his car.

Steve takes a moment whilst locking up to try and chill himself out, a few deep breaths and words of encouragement muttered to himself. Though he’s not too sure “get it together” counts as encouragement, either way he needs to hear it.

“I’m sorry if it’s a bit messy, I would’ve tidied up more if I knew I’d have company.” You look back to Steve as you climb the stairs, the old metal clanking with each step til you reach the top.

“You don’t have to apologise.” Steve shakes his head at you, you could open the door to a bomb site and he wouldn’t mind as long as he’s with you.

You have to fiddle with the lock a little to get it open, the door’s pretty old and probably rusted so the key needs to be twisted and lifted at an angle to get it to work. You get it after a few tries though, and push the door open to let yourself and Steve in.

“Ta-da.” You sing as you hold the door open for Steve, letting him step into your living room before closing it behind him.

The flat is small, but you‘ve filled it with fresh flowers and cosy furnishings to brighten it up. Candles dotted around the room on whatever surface they can fit on, next to little ceramic and glass trinkets and photos of you and your friends. It feels like home, a space you’ve cultivated as your own that nobody can take away from you.

Steve thinks it’s perfect, really, because he can tell it’s yours. The flowers and vanilla candles mix together so the room smells sweet, and everything looks soft and inviting. Your college books strewn across the coffee table, plush blankets hung over the arm of the couch, it was all another insight into your world that he was so desperate to be a part of.

“I can’t believe you think this is messy.” He chuckles, looking around the room again to take in all the little details.

“Wait til you see my bedroom, then you’ll change your tune.” You shrug your bag off your shoulder and onto the floor near the door, toeing your shoes off so you’re just left with your knee high socks on your feet.

Steve can’t even bring himself to think about seeing your bedroom, that idea pushed so far back into the corner of his mind so he can remain functional. “I bet it’s fine, you’re just dramatic.” He teases, trying to play off the fact he’s still in awe about being in your home.

“That’s true, I am.” You smile at him, no offense taken from his words because you can see the soft smile on his lips and the doting tone that always seems to be there when he speaks. “So, what d’you want? Pizza? Or there’s a Chinese not far that’s pretty good?” You pad across the room to the kitchen, the open plan layout meaning you can still see Steve as you root through one of the cupboards for menus. You hold them up when you find them, waving them in the air before you move back and hand them to him.

“You don’t wanna pick? You’re the one who’s been working all day.” He strokes the back of your hair gently with his free hand, you instantly leaning back into his touch.

You shake your head at his offer. “You’re the guest, you pick.”

Steve sighs a little, all sweetness at your offer. “Pizza sounds good. You happy with that?”

“Mhm, pick what you want and I’ll call ‘em.” You tap your nails against the menu in his hand, the vibrations running up his arm and making his hairs stand up.

It takes you both a little while to settle on an order, going back and forth about what you both want and finding a middle ground. You keep trying to tell Steve to choose what he wants and you’ll work around that, but Steve was far more concerned about you getting what you wanted. It was a lot of talking in circles til you both eventually settled.

Steve insists on paying when it arrives, too, despite your best efforts to at least go halves.

“Just take the money, Steve.” You hold the dollars out to him, trying to tuck them into his pocket when he shakes his head at you.

“Stop, stop.” Steve laughs, trying to dodge your hands whilst holding onto the pizza box. “If this falls we’ll have to do that all over again.”

You furrow your brow a little, pouting up at the boy. “Fine, but I’m getting it next time.” You flop yourself down on the couch with a dramatic sigh, shuffling your college textbooks to one side on the coffee table so the pizza box can fit. “Oh, wait, d’you want plates?” You go to stand up again but Steve shakes his head at you.

“I’ll get ‘em, where are they?” He sets the food down and walks into the kitchen.

“Cupboard above the sink.” You call through, watching him pull a couple of plates out and bring them back to you. “You’d make a great housewife.” You grin, taking one of them off him.

“I know, thinking of changing careers.” Steve sits himself down next to you, his leg pressed against yours so you can feel the rough denim on your skin.

“You’d look great in a frilly apron.” You lean forward to open the box, pulling out a slice of pizza for yourself and putting it on your plate.

“Yeah, you think?” Steve grins at you and helps himself to a slice.

“Mhm, real handsome.” You kiss him on the cheek before taking a bite of your food. “And I could be the breadwinner.”

“Oh I’m gonna be your housewife?”

“Obviously, I get first dibs.”

Steve smiles at you, all fondness and it makes your chest feel a little tight with how much you like it. “Yeah, you do.”

You end up watching a movie after your food, letting Steve root through the small pile of tapes that sit next to your tv set. They’re pretty old, most picked up in flea markets or taken from your family home. Most of them are horror films which makes Steve laugh, you feel like the personification of sunshine but your taste in movies is the complete opposite of that.

“You got anything lighthearted?” He turns his head to look at you from where he’s sat on the floor, you still sat on your couch with a blanket thrown over your lap.

“I’ve got Grease.”

“So the options are scary movies or Grease?”

“Withhold your judgment, Harrington.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest in fake upset.

“Oh I’m sorry, don’t surname me.” He pouts back at you, which makes you giggle and ruins your facade.

“Pick a film.” You wiggle your finger at the pile of tapes, Steve turning back to them again and eventually settling on Salem’s Lot.

“You gotta hit the player a little, to get it to work.” You instruct Steve, who taps the player a few times before it springs to life and starts whirring.

He settles back down next to you, and you instantly lean your head on his shoulder. He can smell your fruity shampoo as soon as you lay it there, and leans his own head against yours. It’s comfortable, like your head was supposed to fit there in the crook of his neck.

He tries his best to focus on the screen, but whenever you’re close to him it’s like all his senses are in overdrive and his heart is beating a million miles a minute. He hopes you can’t feel it, a dead giveaway to how you make him feel, how much he really likes you.

It only gets worse when you start placing gentle kisses against his neck, your hand laced in his and he’s so aware of every minute movement you make. Every small inhale, the fan of your eyelashes as you blink. He thinks he might be losing it a little.

You kiss up his neck and up to his cheek, eventually nudging your nose against it so he turns his face to you. You both look at each other for a moment, eyes studying the others face and lips until he eventually leans in to kiss you.

It’s a little reserved, gentle and careful like there’s still some boundary yet to be crossed. Steve’s hand cups your face, fingers lacing into your hair as he holds you close to him.

You press against him a little harder, lips parting slightly so he can slip his tongue into your mouth and you let out a sweet sigh from the feeling. Your arms are around his shoulders so your fingers can run through the hair at the nape of his neck.

Steve can feel himself getting lost in it all, how soft you are and how sweet you taste, and when you shuffle so you’re sitting in his lap he’s certain he’s absolutely gone. His hands move to your waist, but he barely grips you, his touch soft and hovering over your body.

You pull away a little, keeping your face close to Steve’s so your lips still brush together when you speak. “Y’know you can touch me, Stevie? I’m not gonna break.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, all sweet and a little teasing.

Steve smiles at you, closing his eyes for a moment. “I know, I just, uh,” he lets out a small sigh, nose nudging against your own, “you make me kinda nervous.”

You sit back a little now, still close and your fingers still combing through his hair. “What, why?” Your brows furrow slightly as you look at him with gentle concern. “Y’know I really like you, right?”

“I know, but you’re so pretty and smart and like, so out of my league.” He chuckles to try and cover the fact he’s actually wearing his heart on his sleeve, the confession making him feel like he could pass out or combust at any second.

You just shake your head at him, lips curled up into a smile that makes him want to melt. “What’ve I gotta do to prove it to you? Put it on a big sign?” You place soft kisses up and along his throat, breaking them up with your words. “Or I could make a t-shirt?” You move your kisses up to his face so you can look at him again, eyes bright with tenderness for the boy in front of you.

“The t-shirt sounds good.” Steve can feel his skin heat up wherever you place your kisses, your sweet words and soft touches driving him a little crazy.

You giggle, moving one hand to cup his jaw. “Yeah? I can do that.” You press your lips against his, softly and just for a second. “I wanna be your girl, Steve Harrington. You gonna let me?”

Steve’s not sure he’ll ever get used to your confidence, not that he minds it. But he can’t deny it makes his heart flip whenever you say stuff like this, so assured in what you want, especially when it’s him. “Yeah, yeah, I am.” He exhales, finally bringing his lips back to yours.

He kisses you with more confidence now, like whatever line you’ve been toeing has been crossed and he’s finally letting himself relax into you. His hands hold your waist properly, pulling your body closer to his so you can feel his chest move with each breath.

You tilt your head so you can deepen the kiss, Steve’s tongue licking into your mouth as he squeezes your side and it’s enough for you to sigh out a small moan. The sound only makes Steve kiss you harder, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip and making your brain go sort of fuzzy.

When his lips make their way along your jaw, trailing down the column of your neck and onto that sensitive spot near your collarbone your breath hitches in your throat. You think Steve must feel it stuck there, because it’s almost like you can feel him smirk against your skin as he nips at the same spot before soothing over it with his tongue.

His hands roam to your thighs, skirt pulled up a little too high to be decent from you straddling him and you don’t even mind the pain that comes from when his hand passes over your bruise. “Jesus, Steve.” You almost whine, his lips still attached to that same spot and leaving a pretty purple mark there.

Steve groans against your skin when you say his name, the way you say it has his mind moving a hundred miles a minute. “Y’so pretty, y’know that?” His words are a bit muffled against your skin, though he briefly pulls away so he can look you in the eyes. “So perfect, drives me crazy.”

When one of his hands slips towards the inside of your thighs you have to blink a few times to try and keep yourself calm, the sensation so intense even with his gentle touch. It makes you rock your hips towards him, you don’t even mean to do it but the feeling of his denim dragging along your bare skin only sends you more into a haze. Your fingers press into his shoulders, little half moon indents pressing into the fabric of his shirt where you’re trying to ground yourself.

It feels like an eternity of his hands wandering, fingers ghosting closer to your core only to move away again before Steve finally asks if he can touch you, big brown eyes blinking down at you as you nod your head, forcing out a small “yes”, your voice a little raspy from trying to control your breathing.

Steve still feels like this might all be a dream, a fantasy taking place solely in his head, when he finally runs fingers along the hemline of your panties. You’re already warm, your soft skin radiating heat onto him and driving him wild. He moves his hand away for a second, just so he can shift your bodies around and lay you back on the couch. One hand next to your head, propping himself over you so he can see your face, and the other back to teasing you.

You know you’re already wet, can feel it there between your thighs as Steve trails a finger up and down over your panties eventually relenting and pulling them to the side. You don’t think the room is cold, but the air hitting your exposed cunt is enough to make you shiver a little.

He slides two of his fingers down into your slick, the light pressure on your already sensitive clit enough to make your body jolt and a small gasp falls from your lips.

“God, y’so wet already baby.” He muses, a smile curled onto the corners of his lips as he watches your face scrunch a little with each of his movements. His fingers rub circles around your clit, slow steady movements that have your eyes fluttering closed.

“Feels so good, Stevie.” Your voice is even sweeter than usual, all breathy and a little out of it and Steve doesn’t think he’ll ever get over it.

All your nerves feel like they’re on fire, every inch of your body charged with some sort of electricity as Steve keeps touching you. When he finally slips one finger inside of you, his thumb still pressing onto your clit, you’re pretty sure you can see stars. He’s gentle with you, moving in and out of you slowly and always keeping an eye on your face to make sure you’re alright, only adding a second finger once he can feel you’re ready.

His fingers curl up to hit that sweet spot inside of you, the slow drag of them in and out mixed with the lazy movements against your cliensending your head dizzy. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders, nails dragging along the top of his back as your heartbeat quickens and the coil inside your stomach tightens.

“Steve.” You whine, incapable of getting any other words out, your brain turned to mush from his touch.

“Y’close?” He breathes, blown pupils staring down into your own with such intensity and desire that it only pushes you closer to the edge.

“Mhm.” You hum, all you can manage as he speeds up his movements. His fingers are pumping into you a little faster now, still careful and considerate and always hitting the right spot and you can feel your body temperature rising.

“Can feel it, feels so good.” He places a gentle kiss on your lips, then onto your cheek. “Y’gonna let go for me? Wanna feel you come so bad, sweetheart.” He knows he’s running his mouth, mind all fogged up from how good you feel and how much he wants you that he can’t help but let the words tumble out.

It doesn’t take much more for that coil in your stomach to snap, Steve’s words coaxing you through your high as you squeeze your eyes shut and moan out his name. Your nails dig harder into his shoulders, the blinding white of your orgasm leaving you out of it and the feel of him underneath your fingers the only thing helping to ground you.

You whine when Steve finally slides his fingers out of you, the sudden emptiness pulling the sound from your mouth. You bring your head up from where it was lay on the couch, lips meeting his where he’s still hovering over you.

“You alright?” Steve presses his forehead against yours, the breath of his words fanning against your lips.

“Yeah, Stevie.” You give him a sweet smile, mascara a little smudged under your eyes and still looking a little out of it. “C’mon.” You press a hand to his chest and give him a gentle push, just enough so you can sit yourself up. “Wanna make you feel good.”

Hearing the words come from your mouth makes Steve’s brain short circuit a little bit, just following your lead as you shuffle up and off the couch and offer him a hand to lead him to your bedroom. You turn to face him as you walk backwards into the room, knocking the light on with your other hand and coating the room in a buttery light. Your lips are little puffy from where he’d kissed, your hair mussed from the couch, and Steve thinks you’re the most perfect girl he’s ever seen.

Then you’re back on each other again, like some invisible rope is tied around you both and is being pulled tighter til you collide. The kiss is a little messy, too eager to touch each other that it’s all tongue and teeth as your hands both try to pry the others shirt off without having to pull away for too long.

Your clothes are strewn across the room, cascaded to the floor carelessly as your hands can finally roam skin on skin. Your palms on Steve’s chest guide him towards your bed, the back of his knees hitting the mattress.

He sits on the edge of the bed, hands splayed across your now bare waist and you stood between his legs, gazing down at him with big eyes full of something sticky sweet and sultry. He brings his mouth to your tits, kissing the skin and sucking softly to draw out more sweet sounds from you.

“S’my turn. To make you feel good.” You have to force the words out, your breath hitching in your chest each time Steve nibbles on your skin. Your hand reaches down to run over Steve’s crotch. You can feel how much he’s already straining against the denim jeans as you go to fiddle with the button, movements slow and teasing and already enough to make him groan against your soft skin.

“Baby.” Steve grips you a little tighter, pads of his fingers pressing into you. You just look at him, a picture of innocence as you continue your deliberate movements, zipper pulled down at an agonizing pace. “Babybabybaby.” He genuinely thinks his heart might stop with how hard it’s pounding against his ribs.

When you finally un-do the zipper and start palming at his cock through his boxers, Steve tips his head back with a low moan, the pleasure already overwhelming. You use your other hand to caress his cheek, your touch gentle and comforting to counteract how much you’re driving him absolutely crazy.

You dip your hand into his boxers, sufficient teasing done, and finally move his boxers down enough so you can pull his cock out. You try not to react when you realize just how big he is, though a small sound escapes your mouth as you start to pump your hand around the base of his shaft.

When you crouch down in the space between Steve’s legs and run your tongue up his shaft, tip already leaking from the way your hands pumping him, he thinks he might be done for. You look up at him through your lashes, doe eyed and mouth just barely touching him, placing gentle kisses on his member as one of his hands entangles itself in your hair.

“Fucking hell.” He moans, your eyes closing over as you take as much of him as you can in your mouth, hand continuing its motions at the base that you can’t quite fit.

You can feel the tip of him pressing against the back of your throat, and you have to focus on your breathing to try and stop yourself choking up around him. His fingers tighten their hold on your hair as you speed up your movements, tugging a little each time you hear him sigh or moan.

“I-I’m not gonna last.” He chokes out, trying to guide your head up so he can look at you properly. You move your mouth off him, lips slick with saliva and eyes blown as you look at him. “I wanna fuck you, don’t wanna cum yet.” His words are still breathy even now you’ve stopped touching him, his mind still catching up to everything that’s happening.

“Yeah?” You ask, voice a little teasing which only makes Steve want you more. You stand up so you can wiggle out of your skirt, letting it fall to the ground below you and leaving you only in your panties. Your fingers tug at the waistband of his jeans, a silent instruction for him to follow suit. He shuffles in his spot, tugging the trousers down his legs and onto the floor. “Sit back.” You nudge your head towards the headboard of your bed, and Steve doesn’t even try to argue as he moves himself to lean against your pillows.

You kneel over him, hands pulling at his boxers as you help to guide them off before doing the same with your panties. You straddle him again, cock pushing against your clit as you kiss him and rock your hips.

Your lips move down his neck, still a little wet and puffed up. Steve’s hands are resting on your thighs, head tilted to the side so you can continue your trail of kisses down towards his collarbone. “I, uh, don’t have a condom.” Steve murmurs, using probably the last bit of sanity he has to force the words out.

“I’m on the pill.” Your words are pressed into his skin, and you can feel him groan underneath you as you speak. “If you’re okay with that.”

“Yeah, fuck, I’m okay with it.”

Steve helps you line yourself up on top of him, a small hiss coming through your teeth as you lower down onto him and feel the stretch. You have to move slowly, each time you press yourself down a little further and feel him fill you up a little more. It takes you a couple minutes til you’re sat on him fully, breathing already a little heavy as you rest your head on his shoulder.

Steve presses kisses onto your forehead, hands steady on your hips as you sit for a moment. He can feel how tight you are around him, cock twitching inside you just from the thought of you moving. “You okay?” His voice is soothing, gentle and full of care as his thumb strokes circles into your skin.

“Yeah, m’okay.” Your voice is quiet, but you eventually start to rock your hips against him once you’ve adjusted to his size. You can feel his tip nudging that soft squidgy spot with each movement and it has you moaning into his neck as your forehead stays steady in the crook of his neck.

You get a little more confident with it, properly lifting yourself up now so you can feel the full length of his shaft moving in and out of you. You lift your head up so you can look at Steve, mouth hung open a little from being so blissed out.

“Feel s’good, so full.” Steve’s hands help guide you as you bounce on top of him, your clit bumping against the base of his shaft each time brings you down again and it has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“God. Wanted this so bad. Want you so bad. Want you to be my girl.” He starts pistoning his hips up into you now, following your rhythm and hitting even deeper inside you which has you whining.

“I am your girl, Stevie.” You bite your lip as Steve thrusts up into you, barely muffling the sound of your moans as you keen at his thrusts.

“Oh fuck.” He tips his head back, eyes closing as his thrusts start getting a little sloppy. You can tell he’s close, trying your best to hold onto the pace he’s set to bring him to the edge.

“Y’gonna cum for me, baby?” You muse, voice sugar coated despite the words and it has Steve’s head spinning. He brings a hand down between you, fingers finding your clit so he can rub circles in it as you both near the edge.

It’s a little messy, still learning each other's bodies and the way you move with each touch, but you can feel yourself tiptoeing along that ledge again. Steve must feel it too, the way you clench impossibly tighter around him, because he starts picking up the pace with his thrusts again.

It doesn’t take long for you to both tumble over the edge, Steve breathing out your name over and over as he brings his forehead to yours and helps you steady yourself as you come down from your high. You’re not quite ready to move yet, still too sensitive to deal with the feeling of him pulling out.

He’s peppering sweet kisses along your cheek through his deep breathing, both your chests rising and falling as you try to bring yourselves back to reality. When he finally pulls out you whine a little, the loss of him inside you has you feeling empty and the over stimulation is close to electric.

Steve lifts you off him, placing you gently on the bed so he can go to the bathroom to get something to clean the pair of you up with. He’s so soft with you, all affectionate and doting like you’re the most precious thing in the world, he thinks you might be.

“Steve?” You sit yourself up on the bed as he pulls his boxers on, your cheeks flushed pink and lip pulled between your bottom teeth.

“Yeah?”

“This mean I’m actually your girl now?” You grin at him, and you’re asking a question you already know the answer to really. But you want to hear him say it, purely for selfish reasons.

“Fuck, yeah, you’re my girl.” He leans over and kisses your forehead, and the way you look up at him has him thinking that you might always send his head a little dizzy. But he definitely doesn’t mind.

thank u so much for reading ! plz reblog if u enjoyed and message me if u have any requests/wanna gush over steve lol <333

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nanamisdoe-eyedgf · 6 days ago

Text

MY BEST FRIEND'S BOYFRIEND'S DAD FT. TOJI FUSHIJURO (all characters are 20+. MDNI)

You didn’t know what to expect—your best friend was finally going to introduce you to her boyfriend. You were excited to meet the guy who made her so happy.

The dinner was planned at her boyfriend’s house, and you were totally lost on what to wear. She suggested something casual since you’d also be meeting her boyfriend’s dad for the first time.

Apparently, it was her first time meeting his dad as well, so she wanted to dress decently, even though her boyfriend reassured her she could wear whatever she liked.

After raiding each other’s wardrobes and mixing and matching, you finally settled on a white button-up shirt, a pleated mini skirt, and black Mary Janes with white socks.

Finally, you and your best friend arrived at her boyfriend’s house. She introduced you, “Megumi, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Megumi.” She glanced between you both, her smile wide.

“Nice to finally meet you,” you said, smiling as you shook his hand.

“You too. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Megumi replied, stepping aside to let you both in.

He led you to the living room, and the three of you started talking, sharing stories and laughs. You learned more about him, how he and your friend met, and how much he cared for her. Seeing your friend with someone so genuine made you happy.

Then, a deep, husky voice interrupted. “You guys planning on sitting there all night, or what?”

The voice was unmistakable, and as you turned, your heart sank. There, leaning casually in the doorway, was Toji. You barely kept your jaw from dropping.

This has to be a mistake…

This can’t be Toji—the same Toji you’d been sneaking around with for the past few months.

The Toji who would always take you to the backseat of his car.

(Flashback)

You and Toji had just walked out of what might have been the most boring movie you’d ever seen. Toji muttered about wasting $15 on the tickets, shaking his head in disbelief as he led you out of the theater and toward his car, his hand firmly holding yours.

“you hungry, girl?” he asked, his gaze lingering on you with that familiar spark in his eyes.

“Are you?” you replied, feeling your pulse quicken.

“Yeah, I’m starving,” he said, his gaze lingering on your lips.

“There’s food nearby. We could go grab some—” You pulled out your phone, starting to search for fast food places, when Toji took it from your hand.

“I don’t want any of that,” he said, his grin widening as he leaned closer. “I need you.”

You stared straight ahead, his words sending a shiver down your spine. “I…” you struggled to find your voice, feeling your heart race.

“Cat got your tongue, huh?” Toji’s amusement was unmistakable as he leaned in, his warm breath brushing your ear, making you shift in your seat. His fingers traced a light line along your jaw, tilting your chin so you were forced to meet his gaze.

“C’mon, you don’t have to be shy,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “I know exactly what you want.”

You swallowed, heat rising to your cheeks as his thumb brushed your bottom lip, daring you to respond.

You parted your lips, but no words came out, lost in the intensity of his gaze. Toji's thumb lingered, pressing just enough to make your heart skip.

"You don't have to be so quiet," he whispered, leaning even closer. His lips hovered barely an inch from yours, making your breath hitch. "Tell me, what do you want?"

Every thought felt tangled, each heartbeat louder than the last. His hand moved to cradle your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as he tilted your head back slightly, his lips ghosting over yours, teasing, waiting.

"I..." you started, voice barely a whisper, "I want you."

Toji chuckled, his mouth curving into a smirk. "That wasn't so hard was it?” And with that, he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and everything you'd been waiting for.

You melted into his touch, letting him take full control—your first mistake.

Toji’s hunger was evident. He smirked and nodded toward the backseat. “Get back there,” he said, voice low and commanding. Obeying, you slid into the back, and he followed right after, shutting the door behind him.

Toji settled in beside you, the air thick with anticipation. He leaned in, his presence enveloping you, leaving no room for hesitation.

"Are you going to be a good girl?" he asked, his voice low, making your skin tingle.

You swallowed hard, heart racing as you met his gaze. “Y-yes..."

He chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "and good girls deserve a reward,." With a sudden move, he cupped your face, tilting it just enough so that you could feel the heat radiating off him.

"You’ve been good havent you?," he whispered, nodding your head quickly, he inches closer until his lips hovered just above yours. "Let me take care of you."

With that, he closed the distance, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and hungry. Your body responded instinctively, leaning into him, deepening the kiss as you lost yourself in the moment. Toji's hands roamed your waist, pulling you closer, and you felt a mix of excitement coursing through your veins.

Toji's touch was possessive, each movement deliberate, and he pulled you even closer until there was barely any space between you.

"You're something else," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire. Without another word, he shifted, leaning back and pulling you to straddle him, his hands guiding you with an effortless confidence.

Your heart pounded as his hands slid up your thighs, his gaze never leaving yours, intense and unwavering. You felt his fingers trace slow circles, against your clothed clit, his touch both teasing and demanding.

"Toji.." you breathed, his name slipping out almost involuntarily, a mix of anticipation and surrender in your voice. You shakely tug at his waistband, he lifts his hips up, tugging down his jeans and boxers.

The force of him sinking you down on his dick makes your lips part and your head fall back.

He smirked, clearly enjoying every second, every reaction he pulled from you.

"Relax, princess," he whispered, his lips brushing your neck, leaving a trail of heat as he feverishly thrusts his hips into you???

“hmm..” you whimper, his pace quickens as he hears those sweet sounds roll of your lips. The graze of his tip hitting your sweet spongy spot sending shivers down your spine—

"Y/N?" Your best friend's voice broke through your thoughts, and she gently shook your shoulder, snapping you back to reality. You cleared your dry throat, feeling a warm flush creeping up your neck as memories from earlier flooded your mind.

"Sorry, yeah." You nodded, following her toward the dining room. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Toji's smirk, his gaze lingering a moment too long, as if he could read exactly what was on your mind.

You all settled around the table— Megumi sitting next to your friend, which left you directly beside Toji.

"The food smells delicious, Mr.Fushiguro," your friend said politely, taking a bite.

Toji chuckled, waving her off. "Oh, come on, girl, you know I didn't cook any of this."

She laughed nervously. "That's fine; I'm not much of a cook myself."

Toji raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You don't cook?"

Your friend shifted slightly, offering a shy smile. "I know a few recipes, but nothing impressive."

Toji simply grunted in response. "Hmm."

"That's enough, Dad." Megumi stepped in, sounding mildly annoyed. "She's my girlfriend, not my mom. I don't need her to cook for me."

Toji let out a low chuckle, leaning back in his chair. "Relax, kid, I'm just asking." His gaze drifted to you, his eyes gleaming with a familiar mischief. "What about you, darlin'? You cook?"

The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine. You knew he already knew the answer, but he was enjoying putting you on the spot. "Uh, yeah, I can cook," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Toji shifted his attention back to Megumi and your friend. "So, where'd you two meet?"

Megumi began telling the story, his tone warm as he recounted their first meeting. You tried to focus, but then you felt Toji's hand slide onto your thigh under the table, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin. Your body freezing at the sudden touch, heat rising to your face.

You shot him a quick, warning look, but he only smirked, his hand pressing just enough to keep you hyper-aware of his presence. His fingers traced slow, deliberate circles, hidden from everyone else at the table.

"Y/N, you okay?" your friend asked, noticing your slightly flushed expression.

"Y-yeah," you managed, forcing a smile. "Just... thinking."

Toji's hand remained, his thumb grazing your clit through your panties in slow, teasing strokes, challenging you to keep your composure. He leaned back, looking perfectly at ease, though there was a glint in his eye that told you he was enjoying this far too much— and you did too.

He knew you did, the way he could feel your cunt pulse against his palm, and you squeezing his hand with your thighs.

Meanwhile, Megumi finished his story, and you nodded along, trying your best to look engaged despite having Toji’s finger slide in and out your wet cunt.

Toji’s presence like a constant pulse beside you. Every time you dared glance his way, he’d catch your eye with that smirk, knowing he has you wrapped around his fingers– literally.

Before you could reach the edge, Toji got up and headed to the kitchen, washing his hands thoroughly, then pulled dessert from the fridge.

And with that, the night wrapped up pretty quickly. As you finished the last bites of dessert, Megumi thanked you and your friend for coming. You could tell he was itching to get her alone, sending her those familiar, lingering glances.

You both stood to gather your things, and Toji’s eyes caught yours one last time, a gleam of unspoken words there that made your stomach flutter.

“Thanks for having us, Mr. Fushiguro,” your friend said, her voice slightly breathless with excitement.

Toji leaned casually against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, looking at you, every bit as amused as he had at dinner. “Anytime,” he replied, his voice low, almost a purr. “Y’all come back soon.”

You nodded, hoping the heat in your cheeks wasn’t too obvious as you and your friend headed to the door. Just before you stepped out, you felt his hand on your back—a touch so light and quick that it was over before your friend could notice. But it was enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Once you were outside, the cool evening air was a relief, grounding you and pulling you back to the present. Your friend’s cheerful voice filled the quiet as you walked together, her excitement over dinner spilling out.

“So, what’d you think of his dad?” she asked, her eyes bright with curiosity, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You hesitated, replaying the dinner in your mind, especially that last lingering glance Toji had sent your way. “He seems… nice. He definitely approves of you and Megumi together.”

She beamed, clearly relieved. “Yeah, he’s actually pretty chill. And I mean, I can see where Megumi gets his good looks from.” She nudged your shoulder with a grin.

You laughed, a little too nervously, not sure if you should agree.

“I mean it!” she went on, her laughter bubbling up. “Megumi looks just like his dad. It’s uncanny. Seriously, there’s no way a guy like that is single.”

Your stomach flipped. “Does it matter?” you asked, hoping she wouldn’t catch the hint of tension in your voice.

She shrugged, giving you a sidelong glance. “I’m just saying… he’s pretty handsome for an older guy.”

You forced a laugh, but your mind wandered, and a familiar warmth spread up your neck. The memory of Toji’s hand sliding along your thigh, his fingers pressing just enough to remind you he was there, flashed through your mind.

“Maybe he likes the single life,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Or maybe he just hasn’t met the right girl.” She shot you a teasing smile, oblivious to the secret simmering just beneath the surface.

You bit your lip, hoping she didn’t notice how warm your cheeks were getting. “Let’s get going,” you said quickly, hoping to change the subject. “I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

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pedgito · 2 years ago

Note

Thinking of an modern! Eddie fic idea where the fruity for and the reader are all hanging out (doesn’t matter where) and the reader is flirting with a guy over text, she decides to go to the restroom and take some nudes but instead of sending them to the guy shes talking to she sends them to her best friend Eddie Munson who is sitting across from her. Eventual smut.

author's note: i took some liberties here and excluded the fruity four scenario, it just wouldn't fit the way this idea came to me so i hope you don't mind!

cw: 18+ (minors dni), modern!eddie, slightly inexperienced!eddie, confident!reader, established friendship, mentions of reader having lots of casual sex/partners, a little bit on pining/unrequited crushes, handjobs, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 3.4k

You can’t help but feel a little regretful when your phone dings for the millionth time that night, screen light illuminating the darkness of the room, the only other light source being the television position in front of you both.

Eddie was, hands down, your closest friend. He was the person you came to for everything, even slow nights like this when you just wanted to be around each other. And it could, from an outside perspective, look too codependent. But, if either of you were ever feeling sad or upset you always seeked out the other without hesitation.

Eddie felt ridiculous, practically on his hands and knees after school in an effort to have you come over tonight—it’s mostly for show, hoping to make you laugh, but you can see how desperately he needed it.

Still, the notifications on your phone aren’t immune to Eddie’s senses, his eyes dragging toward the phone set atop the coffee table that his feet are resting on, a quick succession of messages in one go.

He clears his throat softly, angling himself away slightly as you reach for the phone, looking back at him apologetically.

You weren’t always this inconsiderate, but Eddie never seemed to mind, not initially anyways.

It was pointless too, some bland conversation with a boy who was much too desperate to get in your pants—but you couldn’t lie to yourself, you were being just as promiscuous as you wanted to be, so the flirting ensues.

It’s not bad either, but it starts to blend together, things you’ve seen time and time again. And Eddie looks like he’s on the brink of passing out, head slumped in his hand and his lip pouting out slightly.

“You don’t have to stay,” He says quietly, his free hand tucked under his shirt, pressing against the warmth of his skin, “I get it.”

Did he, though? Or was he just trying to be nice?

Either way, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave him high and dry on a night that he really needed you. And usually you both would be cuddled up against each other, but that wasn’t how tonight was going. You couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or exhausted, maybe a mix of both.

“I’m not leaving,” You respond, half offended that he would even suggest it, “I just—I’m gonna deal with this so they’ll stop bothering me.”

Whatever that would entail.

“Okay,” He relents, his voice soft, “I’ll pause it if you want.”

The movie, pausing the movie—you glance at the screen and back at Eddie, shaking your head.

“I’ll be quick.” You assure him before fleeing down the hall to the tiny bathroom, unlocking your phone.

And while you don’t necessarily condone sending nude photos of yourself to people you barely knew, you weren’t exactly a stickler for following the rules. Plus, you were good about keeping any identifying marks out of the pictures, namely your face.

You can hear Eddie move around in the other room, his walls dangerously thin. The old couch creaks as he moves and then the front door is squeaking open and slamming shut a few seconds later.

Smoke break.

Well, that or he was giving you some privacy.

You get a text from Eddie a moment later confirming your suspicions.

‘Out front for a smoke if you want to join.’

Followed by another.

‘When you’re done.’

You sigh heavily, switching over to your camera and dealing with the pressing task at hand, lifting your shirt up just above your breasts, a thin and see-through material that gave the subtlest view of your nipples, the curve of your breasts pushed together deliciously—you had to give yourself some credit, they were absolutely picture-worthy.

You snap the picture quickly, fleeting before you overthink it.

But, it doesn’t feel like enough.

You reach your hands around to cup your tits, pulling them out of the material with ease so they sit perfectly on your chest, still slightly supported by the fabric bunched up underneath them.

Was it deserved? Maybe not. But, you couldn’t be bothered to second guess yourself, snapping the second picture and readjusting your clothes, phone scattering into the bowl of the sink as you set it down.

You did want to join Eddie, so you sent the pictures without checking, not realizing how detrimental of a mistake you made. The phone is shoved into your back pocket and you meet Eddie outside a few moments later, his back turned toward you as he puffed on the cigarette, nearly down to a stub.

You reach around him effortlessly, plucking it from his fingers and pressing it to your own mouth.

“You could’ve asked for your own,” He laughs lowly, a deep chuckle that makes you feel warm all over, “I was trying to finish that.”

“Too late,” You smile, pressing the cigarette to your lips and puffing it dead, “I never finish mine and you know it.”

Eddie smiles knowingly, twisting you gently to urge you inside.

“Quick, before we freeze.” He tells you, opening the door to lead you back inside, the butt of the cigarette falling from your fingers as Eddie snuffs it out with his boot.

“I really am sorry,” You apologize timidly, “I know this is supposed to be our time and—“

“Hey, it’s fine,” Eddie shrugs, poking at the frown line in your cheek as you look over at him, “you’re here, at least.”

Eddie grabs a few snacks and drinks to finish out the movie, letting you settle into the space between his legs on the floor, pillow pressed against his lap for you to lean against. He’s playing with your hair absently, your eyes drawn to the screen as he checks his phone, the insistent buzzing of an unchecked notification driving him crazy.

He could only guess it was Dustin bugging him about something only he and Eddie would understand, but it’s not.

It’s not that at all.

It’s your contact name: two pictures attached.

Eddie’s fingers freeze against your hair, but it’s lost on you.

He’s not an idiot, he knows. God, he fucking knows.

And because he loves nothing more than to torture himself, he braves the fear that riddles his body and unlocks his phone, faced with the last thing he could ever expect.

“Oh fuck.” He says quietly, mostly to himself.

“Hmm?” You inquire, not bothering to look back at him.

Eddie stammers, phone almost slipping from his hand.

It’s not the first pair of tits he’s been blessed to see in his lifetime, but it’s not like he’s being bombarded with them on a regular basis. He’s had sex once, seen a girl naked once, in person, not counting the porn he watches on a regular basis—and he’s still new to all of this. But, this feels invasive.

Yet, he couldn’t pull his eyes away.

The silence is digging at you and you turn slowly, hand pressed like a fire-hot brand against his knee that makes him jump, his eyes pulling up toward you.

They’re wide—shocked, lost, and the words that he wants to say are dead on his tongue.

“Eddie, is everything okay?” You ask, concerning flooding you at his state of emotion, “Is it Wayne?”

He could keep it to himself, never tell a soul and live with the fact that he’s a total creep, bound to jerk off to the pictures of you at some point—he’s never outwardly admitted his attraction toward you, but he doesn’t hide it either.

Eddie hasn’t tried to ruin the one good thing he has going on in his life because his dick is telling him so, it’s the one thing he prides himself over.

But, that’s quickly flying out the window.

“Hello,” You call out again, “earth to Eddie? You’re starting to freak me out now.”

Eddie rubs at his brow in exhaustion, forehead creasing as he flips his phone around, “I uh, don’t think these were meant for me.”

You look at him, confused, tearing the phone from his hands and suddenly your mouth is falling open, not a word to be spoken.

“I mean, I’m flattered but—I think it’s safe to assume I wasn’t supposed to see those,” Eddie rambles, “not that like, I wouldn’t want to, but I figured it’s probably better to tell you rather than you finding out later and thinking that I didn’t tell you for some other reason, not that there is…a reason.”

You smile widely at his dramatic rambling. He only ever did it when he was nervous, which was inherently clear now.

This was going…great, clearly.

“That’s–” You laugh uncomfortably, softly, “I’m so sorry, Eddie.”

“No, no—don’t be,” Eddie interjects, “I’m not like I’m bothered or anything—“

“God, I’m so stupid,” You reprimand yourself, tossing the phone back into his lap, his hand tensed tightly into the fabric of the pillow when you move, a small thing you wouldn’t have noticed without the cause of current situation, but you ignore it for now, “you text me—and I didn’t even think to switch it back to the other conversation and I just sent it, like an idiot.”

“I’ll delete it,” Eddie says, reaching for the phone, “I’m going to delete it right now.”

“You already saw it, I don’t think it really matters.”

And it’s the first inkling Eddie gets that maybe you don’t mind—it was a genuine mistake, but you’re more panicking for the sake of Eddie, rather than yourself. Seeing your friend naked wasn’t exactly an ideal situation, but it wasn’t one Eddie had a problem with, not with him harboring such a deep crush on you.

“It feels wrong,” Eddie says, trying to laugh off how awkward things felt, “I mean, not that they’re bad photos—I think I should delete them.”

He shifts slightly, sitting up further as you turn to face him fully, knelt on the carpet at his feet—and that stupid, fucking pillow.

It’s covering the painful hard-on pressing against his jeans. Eddie hasn’t dealt with a situation like this since…well, ever.

Your eyes connect their briefly, the skin around his rings going white from his forcefully he’s gripping it, almost like he’s trying to rut into it secretly, relieving that silent ache.

“Should? Because you want to, right?” You check in with him, his fingers hovering over the delete button, staring intensely back at you.

“Yeah, of course.” He nods jerkily, “Friends don’t–don’t keep pictures like that, do they?”

He’s never been in such an unorthodox situation, learning the rules as he went. He never cuddled with friends or played with their hair, spent nights sleeping next to them in bed because the other was too tired to drive home–it’s a line you both have been walking on for a while, all that unspoken about tension collapsing in on itself.

“Only if they want to,” You tell, “You can–if you want to.”

“They weren’t meant for me.”

There’s a long beat of silence that has his heart racing in his chest, his face heating up.

“They can be.”

“But, what about–”

You shrug lightly, the light from the television shadowing around your face in a way that has Eddie mesmerized, caught up in the way you’re staring straight through him, your hand creeping toward his own, pulling gently at the fingers gripping the pillow.

“They were boring,” You tell him honestly, “and this is...a lot less.”

Eddie resists the pull for a moment, embarrassed by how easily he’s given himself over. It’s far from where he expected the night to go, and his internal monologue is screaming for him to say:

No. This won’t work. This can’t work.

“Eddie.” You say his name once, the tone in your voice telling him everything he needs to know.

Regardless of if this was a one time thing, you wanted it. And if all of this happened purely by chance, he’s thankful for the best goddamn divine intervention he’s ever experienced.

Eddie’s still speechless when you climb into his lap, thighs spread out over his own and his hands reaching around to squeeze at the wedge behind your knee, settling you more comfortably.

This was normal, no different than any other time that you’ve sat in his lap, but your hands are hovering, pillow tossed to the side. You can see how painfully hard his dick is from where it’s pressed up against the thick fabric of his jeans.

“I’m really trying not to make shit weird,” Eddie admits with a clipped laugh, “my body just kinda reacted.”

You shrug again, nonchalant. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Eddie glances down briefly, his hands rising up your thighs slightly, soft skin against rough denim. They squeeze at your hips, his gaze tilting back up toward you.

“What are we doing?”

It’s a question with a million and one answers, but you settle for something simple. Something Eddie can grasp and figure out himself.

“Whatever feels good,” You smile softly, pushing his long tresses behind his ears, the skin stained a deep red, “or we can go back to watching the movie and act like this didn’t happen.”

Eddie grips you a little tighter, like he might lose you.

“I can…help you out,” You suggest, glancing down with a mischievous grin, hands dragging toward the waistband of his jeans and tugging at the belt, “no stipulations or anything, unless you think it’ll go away on its own.”

“Probably–probably not.” Eddie admits. His morning wood wasn’t nearly as bad as this, but it always ended in him tensed up against the shower wall, fucking messily into the tight grip of his hand until he can finally find some relief.

You eye him wordlessly–he can see it in the way you light up.

A silent ‘Then?’ hanging between you both.

Eddie makes the first movie, surprisingly. His hands reach for his belt, unbuckling it with anxious fingers and sweaty hands, fumbling with the zipper until he can finally get it far enough down that he can wiggle his jeans down a bit. You lift yourself slightly to allow the action before settling back down, hands smoothed out over your own thighs. The aggressive tent in his boxers is lingering still–

“I’ve never done this before,” Eddie admits, “Like, without all the other stuff.”

And kissing didn’t feel right, too intimate for the situation despite how badly you wanted to touch him.

“You jerk off, right?” You ask, knowing the question is a little redundant. Of course he does.

He nods.

“So, I’ll just help,” You tell him, “or just watch, whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Uh, no—I want,” Eddie nods slowly, looking up at you timidly, “I want you to help.”

There was no sense in him being shy, not with you. But, you get it—it’s uncharted territory, nothing either of you prepared for, but neither of you were turning down the opportunity. So, facing it head on seemed like the best.

“Okay,” You reply easily, dipping your hand between both of you to stretch under the material of his boxers, gripping him firmly. He’s hard, but everything about him is soft. You don’t dare a look, not yet, his eyes connecting with you briefly at the touch, his lips parting. It’s a soundless gasp, eyes pleasing silently, “is that fine?”

Eddie nods again, nose scrunching as you squeezed lightly, fingers rubbing over the fat head of his cock, the heaviness of him resting wonderfully in your hands.

“Might—might be easier if you take it out.” Eddie suggests, lifting his hips slightly to do just that, freeing himself to allow more room for you to move, bare skin pressed against denim.

You peek a glance down in the poorly lit room, flushed pink head disappearing under your grip as you fist him tightly, his hips rocking every now and then to meet your movements, his hands squeezing tighter and tighter against your hips, subconsciously rocking them in time with his. There’s no friction for you, but you don’t need it—this was about Eddie.

For now, at least.

“God, that’s so good,” He whines softly, head dipping back against the cushion as his eyes squeeze shut, “yeah—like that.”

Your bottom lip pulls between your teeth, rubbing testingly over the tip for a prolonged amount of time, precum drenching your hand until it’s sticky with slick, making a horrendously hot sound as your hand sinks down to the base and squeezes.

Eddie breathes uneven, a mix of a sigh and groan wrapped into one, voice cracking in the middle.

“Fuck, what are we doing?” He rambled, a sudden moment of revelation. “This is so—fuck—“

“Feels good?” You tease, “I’m having fun, Eddie—and I think it’s safe to say you are too.”

If the sounds he was making were any indication.

“You had other plans—didn’t you?” Eddie asks curiously, pausing in between words when things get too intense, his fingers digging into your back. It’s not painful, but you can definitely feel it.

“Maybe,” You shrug, “but you’re my best friend, Eddie—I’d do anything for you.”

“Yeah?” He asks, his voice sounding higher than usual.

“Mhm,” You nod, leaning over him slightly until your arm is pressed flush against both of your chests, the ridge of his cock rubbing against the front of your jeans at this angle—he’s so close to where he desperately craved to be, but still far enough away that it hurts. “Anything.”

“Fuck, I’m almost there.” He warns, feeling ashamed at how easy it was to work himself up. “Don’t wanna make a mess.”

You’re quick, using your free hand to lift your shirt over your head, hand leaving him for a brief second—he almost pouts, the feeling flagging slightly as his orgasm approached, but then he’s got your breasts in full view, pressed tightly against the intricate lace of your bra.

He really can’t take it, his hand cupping over your own as you return your grip around his cock, just as furious and tight as before, guiding you down as he likes, bringing himself closer and closer.

“Can’t believe you,” He says aloud, not for any reason in particular, “—doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

You laugh softly, hand sifting into his long curls and gripping at the root gently, he moans softly, eyes boring into your own.

“Depends,” You start menacingly, “how much are you enjoying it?”

He snorts softly, “Too much.”

His eyes linger toward your breasts, follow the slow rise and fall of your chest, the thin gold chain that dips between your cleavage and holds a similar guitar pick to the one he wore, a gift for you after a year of friendship.

It wasn’t because he wanted to see you dawning a piece of himself, it wasn’t that at all. But, you wore it proudly.

You smirk knowingly, guiding him toward your chest encouragingly until his mouth latches into your skin, his hands sprawling out against your back.

It was the push he needed, confidence surging through him as he mouthed at the swell of your breasts, fingers dipping around the cups to stretch the material down, revealing the softened bud of your nipples as they harden in real time, the breeze hitting them immediately.

Eddie comes with his face buried against your chest, panting into your skin hotly as he stifles the lengthy groan that escapes him, rocking into your joined hands with the aftershocks as his come hits your stomach.

He lets out a weak noise, somewhere between surprise and disbelief, sprinkled with an astute feeling of real exhaustion.

“Fuck me,” He groans, reaching blindly for the shirt you hand him, wiping away the mess he’s made without question. He can only assume you don’t mind, given that you so freely handed it to him, “that was…intense.”

You chuckle, climbing off of his lap slowly, adjusting your breasts back into the confines of your bra.

“Still want to finish the movie?” You say jokingly, but he almost seemed pleased that you asked.

“If you don’t mind—“ Eddie laughs slightly, adjusting himself back into his pants, leaving his jeans undone, “I didn’t get on my hands and knees earlier for nothing, you know.”

“Fine, but—“ You point at his wrinkled shirt, yanking at the fabric gently, “I’m gonna need something to wear, since, well—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie waves you off slightly, a grin splitting over his features, “or?”

It’s a challenge, a brave question to propose in a situation like this.

“I’m not sure you can handle me, Munson.”

“Try me.”

It’s no surprise, Eddie knows you better than anyone. If there was anyone to take you on, it was him.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #my writing

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muiitoloko · 4 days ago

Note

I had another idea that has been swirling around in my mind, this one being an Alan Rickman one. Basically he and a younger actress have been going around doing interviews on tv for their new movie which is a film about an older man being with a younger woman. They talk about how they got to know one another as they knew in the movie there would be some quite intimate scenes. The actress starts to notice with some tv presenters that they seem to have a sly dig at Alan regarding his body shape, which starts to make the actress furious. The actress can tell it is having a negative effect on Alan, so she reassures and/or comforts him regarding it and telling him how a lot of people do in fact find him physically attractive and they will love seeing him in this movie because of it. This could be a fluff, smut or both, whatever you decide.

I hope things turn around for you soon.

Title: More Than Looks

Summary: When the interviewer shifts focus to Rickman's appearance, [Your Name] steps in, redirecting attention to his talent and the undeniable magnetism that make his performance unforgettable.

Pairing: Alan Rickman × Fem! Reader

Warnings: implied betrayal, criticism, implied sex.

Author's Notes: Thank you for the request! I’ll admit, I considered adding a smutty twist but got a little lazy 😅—sorry about that! I hope you still enjoy it. I based this on my story “Rehearsal” but no worries—you don’t need to read that one to follow along with this.

Also read on Ao3

It was funny how quickly things had shifted. What had started as pure excitement about promoting your film with Alan Rickman had now grown into a simmering frustration as interview after interview seemed to focus on his body, often with a subtle—or not so subtle—hint of judgment. Each time someone commented on his appearance, criticizing or even questioning his suitability for a role so intense and passionate, your patience wore thinner. Could these people not see how breathtaking he was? That commanding presence, his quiet confidence, the way he could make you feel utterly captivated with a single, steady gaze? His charm, his wit—this was the man who had brought your character’s forbidden desires to life so vividly, and they were missing it entirely.

You were seated beside him on a popular late-night talk show, the host launching into a lighthearted question about how you two met on set. As you shared stories of your first impressions and the awkwardness of those early rehearsals, you spoke openly about how you’d been a fan of his films long before you’d ever met him.

Alan smirked, his signature half-smile playing across his lips as he glanced at you with those intense hazel eyes that had you captivated every day on set. “I suppose I wasn’t quite what you imagined in person,” he said in that smooth, baritone voice, a touch of self-deprecating humor lacing his words.

The host laughed, raising his eyebrows. “Oh, come on now, Alan. She’s not likely to say anything that would wound your pride, surely?”

Alan tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over you with a twinkle of mischief. “Careful now, or she might mention a certain comment about my…” he trailed off, glancing down with a smirk, “…my ‘intensity,’ shall we say.”

The host leaned forward with interest. “Intensity! And how did you manage all that intensity, [Your Name]? These scenes were rather… spicy, from what I hear.”

You smiled, sharing a glance with Alan as a flush of memories filled your mind. “Well,” you began, trying to keep a playful tone, “let’s just say Alan has this incredible way of… drawing you in. He doesn’t just act the part; he lives in it. And when he steps into that kind of role—one with such intensity, that undeniable tension—it’s… overwhelming, in the best way.”

Alan chuckled softly, crossing his legs and resting his hand casually on his knee as he met the host’s gaze. “Yes, it was a difficult part to research, I’m afraid. I had to be… persuasive,” he added with a knowing glance at you. “It’s challenging, you know, making someone fall for you when they’re… resistant.”

The host laughed, clearly entertained by the way Alan turned the conversation around, but you could sense Alan’s subtle irritation at how much attention the questions kept turning toward him and his body. He was so much more than that, and you wanted everyone to understand it.

Trying to turn the conversation toward his talent, you jumped in. “Alan doesn’t just play the role of a forbidden lover. He brings this… raw energy. There’s this controlled power to his performance that made the scenes feel… almost too real.” You shot him a grin, recalling your rehearsal. “And sometimes, that energy meant improvising, going off-script, capturing moments of raw emotion. That’s part of what made those scenes so… powerful.”

Alan raised an eyebrow, his expression half amused, half intrigued as he considered your words. “Ah, yes, the ‘raw energy,’” he teased, his voice low and suggestive, but his gaze softened as he looked at you. “Well, I had some good motivation, wouldn’t you say?”

The host leaned forward, clearly delighted by the chemistry between you. “I imagine filming those scenes required quite a bit of… trust?”

You nodded, your eyes meeting Alan’s as you replied. “Absolutely. Alan made it so easy to lose myself in the role. He has this way of looking at you, and suddenly, the world fades away. There’s only him, and it’s impossible not to… fall under his spell.”

Alan chuckled, his fingers tracing the arm of his chair in that calm, deliberate way he had. “And isn’t that the essence of a forbidden romance?” he mused, his voice dipping into a rich, velvety tone that had you transfixed. “To make the audience feel that desire, that… need. Even when it’s wrong. Especially when it’s wrong.”

The host, catching on, leaned in with a sly grin. “So, tell us, how did it feel when that camera rolled and the scene came to life?”

Alan’s lips quirked, and he glanced at you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “Well, I’d say… electric. When you’re close to someone, barely breathing, the heat between you almost unbearable. And then… you cross that line. It’s a moment of surrender,” he murmured, looking directly at you, his words laden with the weight of that memory.

You held his gaze, the electricity between you as real as it had been on set, and a warmth rose to your cheeks as you replied, “Every scene felt like stepping into fire. Alan made it feel like… like something dangerous. Impossible to resist.”

As the conversation on the talk show continued, the host, always eager to keep the audience engaged, leaned forward with a gleam in his eye. "Well, folks," he announced with a flourish, "before we wrap up, let's take a look at the trailer for this sizzling new film that's been making waves."

You and Alan turned to the screen, anticipation building as the lights dimmed and the first scenes unfolded. The camera panned over your character, Emily, a young woman with a hopeful, carefree spirit, enjoying a drink with friends, blissfully unaware of the storm her life was about to enter. Then came the scene with Michael—played by an up-and-coming actor—her charming boyfriend, laughing over drinks, his hand resting on her shoulder. The music took on a more tense note as Emily and Michael walked into a room, and there he was—Alan’s character, Thomas.

The atmosphere thickened as Emily’s eyes met Thomas’s across the room, the tension instant and undeniable. Even through the screen, you felt the intensity of that first encounter, the magnetic pull between them. Thomas’s sharp gaze lingered on Emily just a moment too long, his baritone voice greeting her with a warm, yet somehow calculating, “Emily, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Michael’s told me so much about you.” The unspoken challenge in his tone was subtle, but unmistakable.

You could feel the audience's curiosity deepen as the trailer cut to a scene between Thomas and his son, Michael, the two of them exchanging loaded words over a glass of whiskey. Alan's face was shadowed, the low light accentuating the sharpness of his hooked nose and the intensity in his hazel eyes as he spoke, his tone laced with bitterness. "Michael," he said, his voice a silky drawl, "you’ve always been so… predictable.”

Michael’s response was defensive, bordering on anger, the tension between father and son palpable as the trailer hinted at a deep-seated rivalry. It was clear that Thomas’s resentment simmered just below the surface, and it wasn’t long before that bitterness took on a new focus: Emily.

The trailer flashed back to a scene of Thomas and Emily alone, the ambiance dark, thick with unspoken longing. Alan's voice, in a low, almost predatory tone, murmured, “You’re different from what I expected.” His fingers reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, his gaze intense, calculating. Emily visibly tried to resist, but her breath quickened, her eyes betraying her struggle to hold back from the attraction that drew her to him.

The screen flickered to another scene—a candlelit room, Emily standing by the window, looking torn and vulnerable. Thomas appeared behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders as he leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “Why fight what we both know you want?” His tone was rich, seductive, layered with that familiar Alan Rickman edge that could make even the most innocent words feel like a sin.

You felt your own pulse quicken as the trailer showed the forbidden dance between them escalating. The sound of Thomas’s voice echoed through the studio as he muttered, “This isn’t about him. It’s about us. And you know it.” His fingers slid along her jawline, coaxing her to face him as his lips found hers, the scene charged with a desperate, guilty need that had both you and the audience breathless.

As the trailer transitioned into the hot, forbidden scenes between Thomas and Emily, the tension on screen thickened, pulling the audience into the dangerous web of their affair. Each stolen moment was a study in contrasts: Thomas's raw dominance against Emily's trembling vulnerability, her guilt palpable but overshadowed by her overwhelming need. The music, dark and pulsing, set the tone as Thomas’s hands slid down Emily’s arms, his fingers lingering on her wrists as he pinned her against the wall.

“Why fight this?” Thomas’s voice was a rough whisper, his hazel eyes filled with a fierce, relentless desire. “You want this, Emily. You want me.” His tone was commanding, giving no room for denial, and as his lips claimed hers, you could feel the forbidden desire practically vibrating through the screen.

In another scene, Thomas’s hands explored every curve of Emily’s body with a hunger that bordered on obsession. His baritone voice dripped with lust as he muttered in her ear, “You belong to me now, Emily. Don’t even think about him.” The camera lingered on their entwined bodies, capturing every stolen kiss, every whisper of guilt-tinged passion as Thomas claimed her, the heat between them all-consuming.

But beneath the lust and forbidden connection, Emily’s guilt simmered. In one heart-wrenching moment, Michael, her boyfriend and Thomas's son, looked at her with absolute sincerity, his eyes filled with a tenderness that twisted the knife of her betrayal even deeper.

“I love you, Emily,” Michael said softly, his fingers brushing her cheek as he held her close. She forced herself to smile, but her eyes betrayed the storm raging inside her, torn between the comfort of Michael’s love and the fire of Thomas’s dangerous seduction.

The screen cut back to Thomas and Emily in a hotel room, dimly lit and shadowed. Thomas, in full control, had Emily pinned to the bed, his hands pressing her wrists into the mattress as he loomed over her. His gaze was dark, challenging, daring her to deny what was unfolding between them.

“You think you can go back to him, pretend nothing happened?” he sneered, his breath hot against her skin. “No, Emily. You’re mine now. And I’ll make damn sure you remember that.” His hands traced down her body, his grip possessive, his words laced with dominance. Each move, each breath, each kiss felt like a declaration of ownership.

As the trailer built to a crescendo, the final scene shifted to a formal dinner setting. Emily sat beside Michael, who was oblivious to the secrets she kept buried beneath her polite smile. Across the table, Thomas watched her with that familiar, smug expression, his eyes glinting with barely concealed satisfaction as he raised his glass in a toast to the love.

“To love,” he said, his voice rich with irony, his gaze never leaving Emily. The silent threat in his eyes was unmistakable, as if reminding her of the control he held over her. The tension was thick, palpable, every word laced with the knowledge of what they shared—and what she could never admit.

The screen faded to black as the title of the movie appeared, followed by the release date in bold, with the haunting background music underscoring the forbidden nature of their connection. The final note left a lingering tension, promising audiences a twisted, seductive journey of desire, betrayal, and control.

The lights came back up in the studio, and the audience sat in stunned silence before erupting into applause. Beside you, Alan Rickman wore his usual, subtle smirk, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes as he nodded toward you, clearly pleased with the trailer’s impact.

The host leaned in with a half-dazed smile, clearly affected by what he’d just seen. “Wow,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of awe and surprise as he turned to you. “That was something else. What was it like filming such… powerful scenes?”

You smiled, feeling a renewed excitement as you thought back on what it took to bring Emily’s journey to life. “Well, Emily is caught in this web of conflicting desires and guilt,” you began, glancing at Alan, who nodded subtly in encouragement. “She knows she’s making a mistake with Thomas, that she’s risking everything. But there’s a fire between them that she can’t ignore, this intensity that keeps pulling her back in. Alan brought so much to Thomas—this commanding, almost predatory energy that made her attraction to him feel undeniable. It was like stepping into fire every time we shot those scenes.”

The host grinned, clearly intrigued by the dynamic. “And it seems like that heat is definitely going to carry over to audiences!” He turned to Alan, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Alan, this role is quite a departure for you, right? Intense passion, deep conflict… I imagine it was a challenge. But, if I may say, some people might wonder if it was a bit of a stretch, considering…” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely at Alan’s physique. “You know, the years have added a bit of… experience.”

A flicker of discomfort passed over Alan’s face, his easygoing expression tightening just slightly. You could see he was maintaining his usual calm, probably used to the subtle jabs that occasionally came his way. But this time, it irked you. You clenched your fists, irritation bubbling up as the host continued with a superficial smile. Why was it that everyone focused on Alan’s appearance as if it diminished his talent, as if that baritone voice and those intense hazel eyes didn’t already command a room?

Before Alan could respond with his usual poised deflection, you interjected, your voice laced with a calm but unmistakable edge. “With all due respect,” you said, turning to the host, “I think that question completely misses the point. Alan brought an energy to Thomas that’s raw, magnetic, and honestly, breathtaking. I’m certain audiences are going to be captivated not because of a number on a scale but because of the undeniable charisma he brings to the screen. If anything, I’d bet most people will be going to see this film just to watch him.”

Alan looked over at you, surprise and a hint of gratitude in his eyes, though he quickly covered it with a slight smile, that subtle, self-deprecating charm of his. “Thank you,” he murmured quietly, dipping his head.

The host, momentarily taken aback, tried to recover with a chuckle. “Oh, absolutely, I didn’t mean to suggest anything else. It’s just that… well, Alan’s a bit of a legend, and people have a certain image…”

You didn’t let him finish. “Exactly,” you replied smoothly. “And that image is of someone who captivates, who can seduce with a look or a line. I don’t know about everyone else, but when Alan Rickman steps into a role, I don’t notice anything but his presence. And in this film, he exudes a dangerous, irresistible attraction. That’s what will have audiences glued to their seats.”

Alan’s smirk widened slightly, a glint of approval in his gaze as he relaxed beside you. He glanced at the host, his usual sly humor peeking through. “I think I’ll take that as my cue to leave all future interviews to [Your Name] here. She clearly has a much better perspective on the matter.”

The audience chuckled, and you exchanged a warm look with Alan. There was an unspoken connection between you both, a shared understanding that transcended the superficialities the host had attempted to reduce the discussion to. The conversation quickly shifted to the film’s plot and its themes, but you felt a renewed closeness with Alan. As the host wrapped up the interview, you gave Alan a discreet squeeze on the hand, a gesture of support and admiration.

Backstage, Alan turned to you, his usual smirk softened by a touch of genuine warmth. “Thank you,” he murmured, his baritone voice low. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You met his gaze, a smile tugging at your lips. “Someone had to remind them what really matters. And honestly, I meant every word. When people see you as Thomas… let’s just say, they’re in for quite an experience.”

He chuckled, his hooked nose scrunching as he raised an eyebrow. “You think so, do you?”

“Absolutely,” you replied, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. “And between you and me, I think I’m the lucky one, having been the one to experience it firsthand.”

Alan’s eyes sparkled with mischief, his smile lingering as he took in your words. “Well then,” he murmured, his tone laced with that rich, magnetic allure that left you breathless, “it’s good to know I still have it, isn’t it?”

#alan rickman x reader #alan rickman #actor

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dizscreams · 2 years ago

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okay i have a broad idea

jealous/protective chad meeks martin x fem reader but they aren’t dating yet just “friends” but ofc it ends with a confession

YEAHH LETS GO !!

Jealous? — Chad Meeks ★

PAIRING: Chad Meeks x fem!reader

SUMMARY: reader has been talking and hanging out with a boy recently and chad gets jealous but it ends in a cute little confession ofc :)

WARNINGS: none !!

He watched with squinted eyes as he stared at you down the hall. You were against a locker laughing with some guy you had met in the Library recently, Isaac. You were supposed to be Chad’s best friend but it feels like he’s being replaced. What he doesn’t want to admit is it’s because he’s had a huge crush on you since high school, and you guys had gotten extremely close since the incident in Woodsboro.

“Dude, if you keep staring you’re gonna burn a hole in their heads.”, Anika joked while Mindy wrapped her arm around her and joined in. “Yeah, I don’t understand why you won’t just tell her you’re in love with her.”

Chad quickly turned to look at Mindy with a puzzled look, “What? I’m not in love with her- were just friends.“

“Sureee ‘friends’ ”, Anika said in air quotes, “I guess you aren’t jealous of her little friend either, right?” She smirked while Chad scoffed. “I am not jealous.” He said matter of factly and looked back at you and Isaac again.

Mindy rolled her eyes muttering a ‘Whatever’ and walked off with Anika while Anika laughed.

He stood there thinking about it for a minute. He wasn’t jealous. All he’s ever wanted is for you is to be happy and safe and protected. Just because he wants to make you feel that way and doesn’t want anyone else to, doesn’t mean he’s jealous!! Or maybe he was just in extreme denial. He huffed out a breath and turned to walk away while giving you another glance.

Isaac was really close to you now, a little too close for Chad’s liking. So, he did the only logical thing he could think of, go up to you and show that prick you’re his. Though it isn’t even official but he’d get to that later. He walked up to you and you noticed him immediately with a bright smile and greeted him, “Chad! Where have you been? I didn’t see you this morning.”

“Sorry I had to help Ethan with some project he’s been working on. We still on for the movie tonight?”

You grimaced remembering you had made plans with Isaac. Chad looked confused then looked at the smirk on the guy’s face. Fucking asshole. “I guess you already have plans?” Chad asked slightly annoyed.

“I’m sorry Chad I completely forgot about the movie. I’ll make it up to you!” You grabbed his hand “You free tomorrow?” Chad slightly frowned but slowly nodded his head. “Yeah, just promise to text me later.” You smiled genuinely, “Of course! See you later.” You let go of his arm and he walked away.

He hated this. He thinks he hates it more than he should, but could you blame him? You guys always hung out, you were always around each other. He could tell that Isaac liked you by the way his eyes darkened when you grabbed Chad’s hand, but Chad couldn’t tell if you liked Isaac. You were always sweet and genuine to everyone and he loved that about you but you were friendly to the point where some might mistake it as flirting.

time skip to the next day

It was all of you hanging out at Sam’s apartment preparing to watch a scary movie. Chad would have preferred it to be just the two of you but he’s just glad he gets to spend time with you, since everything’s felt distant lately. Mindy got the popcorn ready and sat on the couch with Anika and Tara, Ethan sat on a chair by the door, and Quinn and Sam were in the kitchen talking, not really interested in the movie. So that left you and Chad alone on the second couch together. He silently thanked whatever higher being let this happen because it allowed him to put his arm around you when the movie started.

He thought he was being casual about it and glared daggers at Mindy and Tara for giggling at him. What he didn’t see was the grin on your face when he did so. Everyone could tell he liked you, and you liked him too but were a little more subtle about it. The only person you told was Mindy but assumed other people could probably tell with how you acted around him.

All you wanted was him and nobody else, you can’t count the amount of times you’ve ranted to Mindy about him. She always fake gags and rolls her eyes but she can tell you really care for him. If anyone was good enough for her twin, it was you.

Your phone buzzed in your lap and you checked it, it was a message from Isaac. Chad didn’t mean to look at it but he did. What was he supposed to do? It was right there.

Isaac

hey you almost done? I want to see you

Chad was visibly annoyed and you felt his arm tense around you. You looked up at him and gently asked, “Chad? Are you okay?”

“Hm? No, yeah, I’m good. Why?”

You shook your head, unconvinced at his response. “Cmon I want to talk to you about something.” You stood up and signaled for him to take your hand. He gave you a questioning look but took your hand and followed you anyway. You went into your room and heard Mindy whistle at you guys before you shut the door.

He wasn’t sure why but he was nervous. Not wanting to make anything more awkward than it already was, he spoke first, “Is everything alright?”

“I should be asking you that.”

“What do you mean?”

You sighed at his stubbornness and took a step closer to him. You looked at him and he looked everywhere but you. “Why wont you tell me what’s bothering you, Chad? Is this about Isaac?” You grabbed his hand and that plus the name Isaac got his attention. He looked at you with his eyes slightly wide and shook his head. “Isaac? No, of course not, why would you even think that?”

You rolled your eyes, “Chad every-time you hear his name you practically wince. Do you not like him?” He looked away again, “Chad, We’ve been best friends for years now, you know you can tell me, right? I wont take offense to it.”

Friends. He hated that word. He hated when you said it to describe your relationship. He knew you were of course, but he wants more than that. Maybe it was time to finally tell you. He began to speak before being interrupted by your phone’s notifications.

Your phone buzzed again. You tried to ignore it but it happened again and again. You rolled your eyes and took it out of your jean pocket.

“Isaac?” Chad asked you and you nodded before putting your phone on silent and sitting it on your desk. “I’ll deal with him later. Right now I’m focused on you.”

He scoffed at your words and that left you confused.

“You haven’t been focused on me for weeks, Y/N.” his voice was stern, “It’s been Isaac this Isaac that. I need to help Isaac. Oh sorry I’m hanging out with Isaac. You don’t have time for me anymore!” He didn’t mean to raise his voice at you and felt his heart sink at the look on your face.

“I’m sorry-“

“No, you’re right. I’ve been a bad friend to you, Chad and I’m really sorry. I don’t care about Isaac like I care about you. What can I do to make it up to you?”

He smiled and decided the time to ask you out would be now. What could go wrong?

“You could go on a date with me.” His voice was soft and quiet. You perked up and at first he thought your shocked expression was a disgusted one and was going to apologize before he saw the bright smile that appeared on your face. “I’d love to.”

“What? Really?!”

“Yeah, really.” You chuckled at his face. He was really cute when he was clueless. “Did you think I would say no?” Now it was his turn to laugh, “A little bit, yeah.”

You shook your head and kissed his cheek. “Of course not. I’ve liked you for years, dumbass.”

He was even more confused now. There was no way. You liked him? You were an angel, he didn’t think he could attract someone like you, you were perfect.

He looked at you and kissed you softly, you happily returned it and put your arms around his neck. When you both pulled away he kissed your forehead, “I’ve liked you too.”

“You’re hot when you’re jealous by the way, you know that?” you smirked while he scoffed and playfully rolled his eyes. “I was not jealous-“

“Yeah, Yeah, save it” You giggled and it was your turn to kiss him this time. He held your waist and pulled you closer to him. Now, you really were his.

This is lazy but I hope you enjoyed <3

tags: @beary-rambles

#scream 6 #chad meeks x reader #chad meeks martin x reader #chad meeks martin #chad meeks #ethan landry #mindy meeks #tara carpenter #anika kayoko

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groceryreceiptss · 11 months ago

Text

𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | j.p.

james potter x reader | word count : 7.2k | requested

↳ part one / part two ───✧₊∘

summary : james always said that you were his best friend and you always said that he was yours. but you didn't realize that the meaning of the words had changed for you until it was a week before the yule ball and you two were walking through the snow covered streets of hogsmeade (reader's pov)

contains : my writing (warning lmao), pretty cheesy. (childhood) best friends to lovers!! flufff, herbal tea slander (sorry if you like it), lots of out-of-place references (like pjo and spiderman, i'm SORRY, i can't help it). i’m never sure on what to put in here to be honest so just let me know!

a/n : soo i might have gone a biiiiit overboard and make it a two part! this one takes place in hogsmeade (mostly), told from reader's point of view. i'm planning for the second one to be from james' point of view and for it to take place during the yule ball (no promises on when i’m going to finish it though TT )

credits : lovelyy dividers by @cafekitsune, pins i used (1) (2) (3)

───────────────────────

The castle seemed to have its own separate life in December. Snow, trees, warm hearth, lights, candles, sweaters, hot drinks, and not to mention the food. The students always seemed to be reinvigorated by the time this month came too. Excited whispers floated the hallways in strings of exclamations.

This year, they were way louder than usual though. And the reason for it was visible in every room. The vibrant yet elegant posters, the talks of elaborate plans, scenes of people asking and being asked (and the cheers that would follow it), conversations of suits and dresses, and absolutely nonchalant talks of dates and hopes.The Yule Ball.

This extravagance of the event only happened once in every four years, so of course, everyone was excited. Nothing could be more thrilling than a chance to live out your silly teenage dreams and be like one in the movies.

You loved it too. The smiles, the laughter, the gossip, the drama. It was fun, though you weren't expecting much for yourself. You weren't being a downer or whatever (which was what James would definitely tell you), it was just that, if truth be told, you had learned not to hope too much in anything. Retrospective had taught you a long time ago that it would only tarnish the joy out of a perfectly good moment.

Today was a festive Saturday morning. Talks of the ball were echoing off the walls in a more persistent way than ever. Understandable for they only had a week left before the festivities, anxiety and anticipation were sure rising.

You were just about to enter The Great Hall, the comforting smell of good breakfast already reached your nose, before someone suddenly threw their arms around you from the back, throwing you off balance a bit, his warmth enveloping you. James Potter.

Funny how someone's laugh could be so familiar to one's ears.

"How are you in this fine lovely morning?" The bespectacled boy greeted you as you turned around, eyes meeting his, your lips turned upward mirroring his smile. He really did have the most annoying charming smile. It was infectious.

"Freezing to death," you responded, slinging his arm around your shoulders as both of you walked the rest of the way to the hall. "Where are the others?”

"Already there," he scoffed, and continued on dramatically, "They left me to fend for myself!"

"To be fair, you are a heavy sleeper."

"You're one to talk," he grinned at you, "Why do you think both of us are the last ones to arrive?"

And he hit it right. You straightened up, ready to defend yourself. "Well, look–"

But he was way ahead of you. "Good book?" he smiled knowingly. And right again.

"So good," You nodded your head vigorously. "You should read it sometimes. I'll add that to your list." You waved your hand away casually, as if to say ‘done and done.’

"I look forward to reading it."

You smiled up at him, agreed. "Good, because you must." And before you could stop it, you went on telling him all about your reading from last night.

He didn't seem to mind, he never did. In fact, he always seemed to be interested in everything you had to say, so you continued. It had become a routine. You told him about a book he had never heard of, he told him about a match you had never watched.

James Potter was your best friend. Always had and always would be. The two of you had known each other since you were five and knew nothing and everything. Both of your parents had been best friends and it just progressed naturally. They would often spend the holidays and breaks together and so his house was yours as much as yours was his.

And when both of you got the Hogwarts letter at the age of eleven and were sorted into Gryffindor, it was inevitable that you grew even closer. Everything about him had become so familiar now. It was like you knew him at the back of your hand.

His favorite color, his favorite food, his favorite song. How his eyes brightened a bit when he laughed. The dimples that came with his smile. How he would bite his lip a bit when McGonagall caught him and his friends in their mischievous schemes, or when he was thinking of a lie to tell her.

How he liked to put his arm around your shoulder, or tucked it in the inside of your arm every time he saw you. His glasses that were always lopsided, and his hair that was always tousled. Just like it was right now.

Both of you sat down in front of Remus and Sirius, who were laughing about something. Crisp toast, bacon, and eggs on the plates completely abandoned. You eyed them closely and wondered how two people could be so oblivious to one another when they were sitting that close to each other. And look at Remus! He was almost red.

If only you did not have a sense of decency and could have it in you to interfere with these two, then maybe, just maybe, they'd finally admit their feelings and go to the Yule Ball together.

"Where's Wormtail?" James asked them, getting himself a plate of eggs and sausages. You decided to grab some toasts, marmalade, and some eggs.

"Don't know," Sirius shrugged. "Probably hatching a plan to ask Jane out."

"Doesn't she already have a date?" You asked him, confusion on your face.

"Not sure," Remus chimed in, "it's hard to keep track these days." True that.

The four of you talked some more. You and James tried multiple times trying to get these two to talk about their dates to the ball—or more like the lack of it—and did a bait and switch. And you were good at it, but boy were they better.

After their plates had emptied, Remus said that he was going to make a quick run at the library and Sirius, very subtly and casually, offered that he could come too because he was "bored." You and James could barely contain your smiles until they disappeared out of view.

He grabbed a bit of your toast, put some of his fruits on your plate in exchange for it, and asked, "So... what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Who are you going with to the dance?"

"Oh," you pondered a bit, biting one of the strawberries. "I don't know. I'm thinking of going by myself, maybe? I think it'd be fun."

"No one has asked you yet?" He asked, surprised.

You let out a laugh at his expression. "Don't pretend to be shocked now, James. I don't exactly have a line of people waiting to ask me out."

"People here have bad tastes then.” He concluded.

You shrugged, “I don’t mind. It’d be a pity spending the night with some stranger I don’t know, or even like, anyway. What about you and Lily?”

James' die-hard affection for the red-head girl was never a secret. The entire school knew it. It had been going on since first year and you doubted it would ever stop.

The way he always talked about her — with so much fondness and care. It was, the way she smiled, the way she laughed, the way she talked. But you noticed the way he looked at her too. It was like he fell in love every time he laid his eyes on her.

You figured that he was going to at least work up the courage to ask her out to the ball, even if it would only end up in vain, but no news from him so far. It was weird, like a sudden change of the weather. You had had to endure listening to him for what seemed like ages after Lily talked to him for the first time. And then another and another and another about his failed attempts at asking her out. What's with the quiet and silence now?

Was the fact that she turned him down again for the dance hurt him that bad? Oh, now you felt guilty for asking.

What was so strange, though, was that there wasn't sadness on his face now. No hidden pain or aches. Instead, he said, ever so casually, your toast in his hand "I haven't asked her yet."

You were taken aback, shocked, eyebrows scrunched up. "What?"

James' fruitless efforts with Lily was also very much widely known, but he was never ashamed of it. You couldn't remember the last time he passed an opportunity to confess his— as he said it —undying love for her.

"What, what do you mean you haven't asked her out?" You sputtered out.

He chuckled nervously at your response, raising his hands in trying to calm you down. "Is it really that surprising?"

"Considering the fact that you, James Potter, have been after her for like forever and never faltered in his efforts to make her know that he is head over heels for her, then I'd say, yeah. It's pretty surprising." You responded, baffled. "What changed?"

"Nothing! I just figured that she'd turn me down anyway and didn't bother. And then I heard she already accepted someone else's offer anyways." he shrugged.

"Oh," you put his hand in yours and gave it a squeeze. "I'm sorry."

James squeezed yours in return and gave you a smile. "Nothing to be sorry about. I'm fine, honestly." he assured you. “I think it might be for the best.”

Though you didn’t believe that, he did look fine. And James was never one to hide his feelings from you— in fact it was the total opposite, he was always ever so dramatic — so you took his words. You bit your lip and asked, "You want some tea?"

"What is it this time?" He asked as he took a bite of the egg.

You grabbed one of the teacups and gave it a sniff. "Oh," you scrunched up your nose from the smell, "Herbal, I think." you put it down. "That's a no then."

He groaned, "Why couldn't they just serve normal tea?"

"Because then we won't have a ‘refined’ palate." You rolled your eyes, quoting something Madam Pince had told you in the library for what seemed like a long time ago.

"That's a silly excuse for serving only herbal tea at breakfast."

You couldn't say that you disagree.

"So,” he started. “What are you doing today? Any plans?"

"No,” you shook your head, “Nothing much." You poured yourself a glass of orange juice and passed the jug to him. "I'll probably just read. You?"

He poured one himself and grinned at you. "That depends, you want to go to Hogsmeade?"

"Uh-oh," you let out a laugh, sensing trouble. "What are you up to?"

He gasped dramatically. "What do you mean ‘what are you up to?’ I am offended.” He placed a hand on his chest for good measure. “Could it be possible that maybe I just want to spend the day at Hogsmeade with my best friend?”

You raised your eyebrows at him.

He laughed. “I’m not going to do anything, honestly. And It'll be fun, I promise!" he nudged you. "We haven't gone there in a while." Well, that was true.

"It's cold," you argued.

"I have an extra coat if you want double."

"It will be very crowded."

"Then we'll find some place no one knows."

"That's impossible."

"Anything is possible, love. Please." He pleaded, looking at you with his big doe eyes. It was so unfair of the world to give someone such gorgeous brown eyes and left the others to dust. So unfair.

You sighed, letting out at last. He would be the death of you one of these days. "Fine," — which brought a whispered "Yes!" from him— "But we're going to have to visit the quill shop."

"Consider it done."

──────────────────∘

Hogsmeade was truly beautiful in the winter. Its snow-covered roads, the orange lights visible in every shop, and the chattering crowds in their coats and scarves. Though the hits of cold wind on your face made you shiver, you were glad that you decided to go. And that you were with James. His arms around your shoulders provided you warmth just as much as his breath on your cheeks did.

As promised, both of you visited Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. James had complained at first and tried to negotiate by saying you should "save the best for last" and head to Zonko's instead to open the trip, but after both of you saw the line the place'd formed, he agreed that maybe quills were more fascinating.

"Why are there so many types of ink?" he whispered loudly at you as he examined the shelves, "Who cares if it's lavender purple or lilac purple? They're purple!"

"Lots of people do." You answered before quietly squealing to him after finding a rare gem. "Look!"

You pushed the ink bottles to his face so he'd read the label. "Rainbow ink?"

"Rainbow ink!" You nodded excitedly.

"You do not need rainbow ink, love." He shook his head but couldn't force back the affectionate smile that had appeared on his face.

"Just like you don't need those hand-biting teacups or whatever from Zonko's, and yet here we are." You hummed giddily as you grabbed one of the brand new boxes of rainbow ink from the shelf.

"It's nose-biting teacups— please don't take the fun out of it," he corrected you, "and yes I do need it! It's fun! Trashy fun, but fun!”

"Whatever you say, love." Something caught your attention and you immediately grabbed the cuff of his shirt. "Oh! Let's look here!"

With the rainbow ink tucked safely in your coat pocket, you and James walked out of the shop and visited Zonko's. He recounted all of the items he had once bought and how he had used them up, mostly with Sirius. He ended up getting something called Inflatable Tongue (for what you didn't want to know) before both of you walked out.

You turned to him with a glint in your eyes. "Honeydukes?"

He returned the mischief and grinned. "I thought you'd never ask. Time?"

You thought it over, looking at the clock nailed onto the wall of the shop through the glass.

“Five minutes,” you pointed out. “Letter?”

"B,” he decided as he rubbed his gloved hands together. "Ready?"

"One..." you looked over at him, I'm going to obliterated you.

"Two…”

“Three.. Go!" you declared before both of you ran to the brightly colored store.

You and James had many traditions. This was one of them.

The challenge was simple. You only had to find as many candies as possible that started with the decided letter in those few minutes.

It had started with a silly argument in second year, about who knew more about sweets and, later on, the knowledge of Hogsmeade's own candy shop's stocks and products. You only had been able to visit by third year of course, and the real game had only begun there, but the fire was already established way before.

Your friend, Marlene, thought it was stupid, and so did the rest of the Marauders, but there was something to be said about the similar stubbornness you two had. Sirius had said they were eerily alike.

You and James entered the shop with thrill and jumpy nerves, but were still decent enough to try not to run like little children that would definitely result in getting kicked out. Like that time both of you visited those muggles candy stores over a summer when you were younger. Lessons were learned.

You immediately went to the right part of the store, claiming the territory. Directed by your decision, James went to the left.

You knew the store well. James didn’t know it, but you had been visiting this cheerful shop a lot recently. Mostly because Mary was so down after her breakup with her toxic ex and these treats are one of the things that could cheer her up. But on the side, you had done your research. The Bs were on this side of the store.

Bolandi’s Exquisite Crystallized Pineapple. Blood-flavored lollipop. Bat’s Blood Soup? Gross. And some chunks of brownies.

Five minutes passed, and with James only got Bertie’s and bubblegums, you came out of the shop victorious.

You jumped and threw your hands in the air. “And miss y/l/n won again. Thank you, thank you.” You bowed to a nonexistent audience.

He only smiled at you. “Don’t be so proud now. Remember, miss y/l/n, I am still the running champion here. 3-2” he reminded you with a smug smile on his face.

You shrugged. “That won’t be hard to feat, you mark my words.“ you offered him a look into your paper bag. “Want to try some?”

“What’s new?”

“Bat’s blood soup.” Your nose wrinkled at the name. “He said that it’s actually chocolate, but the name is too off putting.”

“It’d be good with strawberries,” he offered. “We can grab some from dinner later.”

You nodded your head as both of you made your way through the village. “I think Mary would like it too anyways.”

“Oh, right.” James said. He and Mary weren’t close but they were friendly, especially from being past neighbors and all. “How is she these days?”

“Better every day I'm sure. It’s for the best, Matt’s an asshole.”

“We can only hope that that itching powder will find its way real soon.” he grinned at their latest form of tricks. “Or maybe during the Yule Ball actually. That would be so much better.”

You snorted. “Usually I would say that’s cruel, but he deserves it. We thank you for your service.” You continued solemnly.

He waved his hand as if tipping off his hat. “And you are so very welcome.”

Both of you walked through the well-lit village. Talking about everything and nothing, laughing at that student making a fool of himself in one of the shops, and slipped some bites of the crystallized pineapples.He asked you about how far into the book you were now, and you asked him about his Quidditch team and whether the newest member– someone from year two, you believed–was still afraid of heights.

James had his left arm around you and your gloved hands were holding his–the one near your neck–fighting for some sense of warmth. You and James hadn’t done this in a while and you’d forgotten how much you missed it. You looked up at him as he was talking about the second-year boy and saw the flecks of snow scattered on his face, his askew glasses, and his jet black hair. It made him look a tad bit adorable, you thought. His brown eyes that had that bit of green in them were alight with something so charmingly infectious that you couldn’t help but smile.

You looked at him as he talked about the latest match, his right hand going everywhere as he was talking at the speed of 893 miles per hour. You loved seeing him talk excitedly about something. There was just something so beautiful in hearing the people you cared about talk about things that they cared about so passionately and ardently, no matter how trivial they may be. It was like you were trusted enough to see this crazy side of them. It’s nice.

A group of third-years passed by and you heard them complaining about not being able to go to the ball yet. Something about dances, dresses and suits, and dying alone.

"Oh," you fought a smile to keep it from surfacing as you remembered a particular last week incident. “How are your dance moves coming along?"

He groaned. “Not this again. You're trying not to laugh."

"I'm not!" but a chortle escaped you either way. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I know you're trying your best."

"I am!" he whined. "It's just really hard and Padfoot isn't exactly the best dance partner for practicing," he grumbled.

"Steps-on-you-shoes kind of bad or doesn't-catch-you-after-the-spin-that-you-end-up-falling kind of bad?" You said with a smile and with raised eyebrows.

He rolled his eyes as he revealed a sheepish smile. As if he could forget. "I said I'm sorry."

“I know. but it was right there. I couldn't not do it.”

A week ago, in the empty common room at night, James had asked you to teach him the basic dance steps most people used for the ball. Despite his mother's graces for it, you found that her son was very much an amateur.

He kept stepping on your foot and collided with you as he took the wrong directions. You were laughing and kept saying that it was fine, but he still apologized every other second of it.

The ending to the attempts was a disaster. A playful one for you, but he seemed very embarrassed of it. You had suggested the spin—and honestly it was your fault to have recommended it in the first place when it had only been an hour and a half—and as he tried to pull you back, he might have tugged your hand a bit too hard and you ended up crashing into one another. Your figure on top of his, his hands on your waist.

His cheeks had turned slightly red, and yours had grown hot as the fall stopped and you found your face so close to his. Your eyes inevitably found his brown ones and you felt his rapid breaths on your skin. His eyes have a little bit of green in them, like stars, your mind wandered before catching yourself. You let out a slight awkward cough and tried to laugh it off as you made yourself stand up.

He gave you a string of apologies afterward, and although you had assured him that it was all in good fun, he never asked you to teach him again. You kind of wished he would, for reasons you couldn't quite explain, but you didn't want to push him when he had turned to Sirius to "let the failures just befall on him", as he'd said it.

"But, either way, have you improved under the capable hands of Sirius Black, Mr. Potter?" you asked him now, an eyebrow raised.

"Well, he's definitely not as capable as you." He gave you an admiring smile, and you almost looked away from it. Taking compliments was never one of your talents. Especially if you felt undeserved of it.

"Well, it might come to you as a surprise, but what we learned was the easy part. I'm an intermediate myself." Deflected and dodged.

He laughed. "Either way, you're still graceful at it. You know, the incident did happen again. With Sirius."

You snorted. "What?"

"Yeah. Luckily, it's still in the privacy of our dorm. so it's good."

"I'd give money to see that."

"Would never let that happen in a million years."

“With the way things are going, I might. The dance is a public affair.”

“I’d have to get better by next week then.” He said it solemnly like it was a promise, but he probably was kidding. That small child-like smile on his face said it all.

You had walked to the empty side of the village. You didn't think there was one, but the snow covered streets around you were scarce of people. Only a few passersby before they too disappeared into the warm shelter of a wooden shop. Just the way you preferred it.

A sudden thought crossed your mind and before you could even give it a second thought, your mouth decided to give it a voice. "You want to try again?"

He looked around, his snow flecked eyebrows raising, and his smile tinted with a hint of amusement. "Here?"

Well now you wished you hadn't. But, playing along was always better than an embarrassed "never mind, that was stupid" right?

"Well, yes!" you told him as if you definitely didn't have any second thoughts at all. "Almost no one’s here. Besides," You continued with a light feather edge on your words. "I heard it's freeing to dance in the cold December wind."

He shot you with one of his cheeky smiles. "Is that so?" before putting on his thinking face, a guess on the tip of his tongue. "Romance?" He ventured.

"Partly. It's a coming-of-age drama and such." You corrected him. "It's also on our winter list for this year you'll see."

"Can't wait." and he meant it. But only because, "I hope you'll also like that match tape I got of a muggles' football match. They're entertaining too to say the least."

After years of being best friends together, he had learned that you liked to talk in quotes from the books you'd read and the movies you'd watched. And after years of spending winter and summer breaks together watching and listening to the muggles' form of entertainment media, it was like you shared the same frequency. He could guess which type of movies or shows or songs you had probably heard the saying from, and you could guess which sport match did he reference that joke from.

It was a whole different game. Total number of players : two.

He stopped in his tracks, letting his arm fall from his shoulder, making your neck shudder a bit at the loss of warmth.

"So," he gave you a gentleman's bow—and a playful smile along with it—and offered his gloved hand. "May I have this dance?"

You almost let out a surprised laugh at the gesture. You took a ladylike bow, pinching the fabric of your invisible royal dress. "That depends," you said in an exaggerated accent, "are you able to do so without giving me a head injury?"

He returned the overplayed accent. "I shall make no promises. But, if i were to slip and let you fall, best believe I'd try my best to catch you."

On the usual days, you'd bring up Gwen Stacy falling into her demise in one of the remakes of the Spider-Man movies. How Peter wasn't able to catch her and she ended up dead. James would've gotten the reference—you had cried to him for hours after that first watch last summer—but you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

And yet instead, you were here, trying not to let the invisible red take too much space on your already freezing cheeks. You smiled, and it was a smile you couldn't contain. Not like others. It was one that just kept going wider and wider the more you looked at the beam plastered on his face until it wasn't physically possible anymore.

James, your head echoed his name as you mentally shook your head. A soft laugh escaped your lips. What have you done?

“We’re going to look stupid.” You admitted.

“Hey, it was your idea." He reminded you, his hand still stood in the air.

"It was a moment of foolery." But you took it.

The wind had started to pick up its course again and caused the snow to fall rapidly. Under the glow of the streetlights, you two danced and laughed. It started off as an attempt to the formal dance two would usually use at a ball, but after one or two or seven missteps, you agreed that maybe you should start over.

There was no music to accompany you but there was a faint piano playing from one of the shops. It whispered gently with the wind that swept you and James' rowdy steps.

His laughters were echoing in your ears, into your mind. His breath was on your cheeks, and his gloved hand on your woolen one was a warming touch. His glasses were a bit askew, and a part of his hair that came out of his beanie was flecked with snow.

There was no rhyme nor reason to your steps or the placement change of your hands. It was so stupid and silly. One minute it was an amateur attempt at classic dances, and another you were fooling around as if you were at a house party.

It was nice. Like you two were five again and you knew nothing and everything. Childhood innocence, where have you gone?

There were a lot of things you were late to realize about your friendship with James. You guessed you didn’t really think much about a friendship that had started since you could remember. It had always just been there, all your life. So long that you couldn’t imagine a life without it. A steadfast thing, the most you ever had one with someone that used to be a stranger to you.

You couldn’t even imagine that now. James Potter, a stranger. It felt so wrong. You had known too much about him, he had known too much about you. He was memorized in your mind.

From his hazel brown eyes that felt like the warm hearth of your home every time you looked at them, to the quirk of his lips and the gentleness of his smile.

To his voice that had once become a soothing presence after you had had paranoid nightmares about one of the people you knew dying. To the sound of his laughter that accompany the hot days in June and the freezing weather of winter, like how it did right now.

How he would run his hands through his hair when he was frustrated or didn’t know what to do. Or how his handwriting looked and how the Gs and Ys are always so sloppy and how the Ss barely look like one.

And so many things. So many other things you couldn’t imagine living without. Maybe this was just you being too present in a moment that you couldn’t think of it being ripped away and making you not be there anymore, but you weren’t sure.

You looked at him, and it was like the rest of the world fell away. His eyes had stars in them and his cheeks were red from the cold.

Your thoughts raced in a hundred miles per hour as your breaths and the pulse in your veins tried to catch up. All of them were beating to get out of your skin and onto the snow. They all had the same jitters, the same sound, and the same beat. And they all were talking in one unison, a whisper of the name of the person in front of you.

James Potter. James Potter. James. Oh. Oh.

It was a moment too late before you realized you had not been watching your steps and tripped yourself over a good mound of snow.

“Woah, woah” You started as you fell forward onto the snow, with your hands still on James’.

You heard the soft thump of the snow hitting James’ head, as your body fell on top of his. The rough old material of his father's coat met with your similar one. Your eyes were inches from his and so were your lips. You didn’t know what to think, your mind just went blank at the sudden proximity.

You should— wait, what should you do? You should— right, oh my god, apologize!

Fighting your inner thoughts and denying its claims, you immediately got up. Maybe too quickly for nonchalance but your racing brain didn’t have time to think it through. Not when it was jammed with mixed and confused signals from your heart.

“James! I’m so so sorry!” you offered him your hand and pulled him to stand, brushing off the snow from his coat. “Sorry, I wasn’t in my mind for that one second. Sorry.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes, or even look at him—which almost never was a problem before, at least not because of this kind of… thing— so you resumed correcting his lopsided beanie.

He just laughed though. All casual as if you didn’t just find a big revelation. “It’s okay, it’s fine.” He tried to assure you. But you still wouldn’t stop, so he took hold of your hands to stop them from fixing his woolen headwear.

Great, now you were forced to look at him. You just hoped the cold weather was still a believable reason to cover up for whatever your face may look like now. Flushed, probably. But hopefully not too embarrassed.

You looked at his face, a trace of mirth still on his lips that were so close to you a minute ago. His face was kinda red too, but it was probably because of the season.

“It’s okay,” he assured you again. “You know,” an end to his smile turned a bit more upward and you knew that a tease was coming. “You reminded me of an old me,” he continued breezily, “i made this same mistake too back then. When i was more foolish.”

You couldn’t help but let out a snort. James, james. Alright, just let things—and especially you—calm down a little, you told yourself. Let everything go back to normal.

“You mean a week ago, old man?” You lightly punched his arm, before dusting off the snow from your own coat.

“Time is relative. Miles Morales said it himself.” He said as he helped you brush the snow out of your hair and coat. “Or actually it was Ernest whatnot but whatever.”

You let out a breath of laughter as you shook your head. His glasses were crooked so your hands automatically went up to fix it. Like you had done so many times. “There. It was crooked.” You heard yourself explaining.

“Thanks,” he said with that stupid silly smile of his. You hated that smile now. How can one have such a charismatic smile? It wasn’t fair.

“No problem, wise man.” You responded with your new-found nickname for him, playfully rolling your eyes.

“Seaweed brain," He called back, and that made you smile– you didn’t even realize it.

You gave him a nod of approval. "The Percy Jackson reference. Touché."

"I've learned sooo much from you." He said solemnly.

"I know." You smiled up at him. And he looked right into your eyes, that blinding smile of his radiating onto them before suddenly averting his gaze onto the ground, where evidence of your very own accident made a mark on the snow.

James rubbed his hands together, searching for warmth. "Hey, you want to go to the Three Broomsticks? It’ll probably be emptier now.” He offered, like he always did because he was your friend. Your best friend since you could remember.

You didn’t know why you were acting weird. It was only an hour ago when everything was normal. You didn’t know how everything could just change in a matter of seconds. He was your friend, it would be okay. However this would unfold, everything would be fine. Both of you had always overcome things before. It was with James, you two would get through it. You were grateful to have him.

“Oh yeah sure.” You agreed. Wait, was that too quick of a response? Oh fuck it. He was your best friend, he had known you all his life too—which was exactly why if there was something off with you, he’d definitely be the first person to notice it, but you didn’t want to think about it too much. You shook your heads to clear all maddening thoughts. “Have you heard from Frank? Haven’t gone there in a while.”

“Oh, yeah he’s great.” He continued in a whisper, “I heard he has just received a new package of fire whiskey and Sirius and I are hoping to get a snatch of it or two. You know, for the house.”

“Right, for the house,” You rolled your eyes.

He lent out a hand to you, "Shall we?"

You took it and he gave it a soft squeeze, its grip sending vibrations through your bones.

"We shall."

───────────────∘

James was right, it wasn't as crowded as it would be if you had come earlier. Most people here had their drink and company either at noon or late afternoon and night. 3 pm wasn't exactly a busy hour. Though there were still too many people and noises for your comfort, you and James could at least find a table for two in the corner, quieter spot.

He came to the table holding two butterbeers in his hand. Both served hot to minimize the cold. He slid yours down the table and took a seat in front of you. His glasses are turned slightly uneven again.

"So, y/n" he started as you picked up your drink and sighed at the heat it gave you. Your hands were absolutely freezing.

"Hm?" You responded, more focused on the comforting smell that radiated from your cup.

"I've been thinking," He continued, and now you looked up. You were so distracted before that you didn't notice how his hands were moving as if he were drumming his thighs under the table— a habit he often did when he was nervous.

You furrowed your eyebrows for a second but decided to ignore it. "Uh-oh. Nothing good ever comes up from that." You took a careful sip of the butterbeer, its warmth traveled all through your withered body. "New horrible trick ideas?"

He rolled his eyes, a breathy laugh came out of his lips. "Why is it that you always always think the worst of me, miss y/l/n?"

Just this morning, at the Great Hall, every part of you was functioning alright. Nothing going haywire. But now, there was a skipped beat in your heart and a flip in your stomach. You tried to deflect it but the butterflies couldn't be bothered.

"I don't always always think the worst of you James. I just know you." You did, you really did. You wondered if he knew it though.

"Well, I bet you wouldn't guess what's going to come out of my mouth this time." He claimed in a challenging tone.

You raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Five guesses." He grinned as he pulled up five fingers to illustrate his point. "No retracting."

"Alright then," You accepted the challenge. You silently thought to yourself before voicing it all aloud. "Wasn't a trick, so maybe you are... planning to do something to the Marauders? Like, I don't know, maybe get those two idiots together to the ball?"

He pulled down a finger. "You know, maybe I should. But that wasn't it. You were kinda close though."

Close where? “Sirius and Remus?”

He made a loud incorrect buzzer sound and pulled down another finger.

“Hey, that wasn’t-”

“No retracting,” he reminded you, as he took a sip of his own beverage.

“Not fair,” you grumbled. You thought about it again before guessing, “Oh! Yule Ball shenanigans? Oh wait no-“

Another buzzer sound, and two fingers left. “My, you really don’t know me, do you y/n?” He feigned a dramatic hurt on his face and a slight pout. “You’re close though.”

About the dance? What’s about the dance? “What, you’re going to skip the ball?” You said it as a joke but he wasn’t laughing. In fact, there was just a trace of truth in that smile of his when you said it. “What, I’m right?”

“No. But that depends actually.”

“You’re talking in riddles.”

“Yeah, it’s fun, isn’t it?” His smile had a slight smirk now, like it was still held back or something. “That counted as incorrect by the way.” He made another buzzer sound and one finger left.

You sighed in frustration. The Yule Ball, but it wasn’t about any tricks. So what? Oh. The realization hit you as you felt your heart drop. It was so silly, but bad timing, James. Bad timing.

“You’re finally going to try and ask someone else to go to the ball with you?” You voiced out your thoughts, hoping there wasn’t a hint that could suggest something else; reluctance and hesitation. What, did he meet her in the hallway before you two went out or something?

He pulled his lips together and gave you a small shrug. “Close,” he concluded. “But again that depends.”

You sighed. “Alright, fine. I give up. I surrender. Just tell me.” You almost pleaded with him.

“You’re my best friend, right?”

Right. Best friend. Of course. You nodded. “Mhm.”

“So…” he stopped, like he was nervous to get the words out. That was weird.

A worse idea came to mind.Oh please don’t tell me he’s going to ask me to become his fake date for the ball to make Lily jealous, you silently desperately prayed. It would’ve been easy if it had been any other week before, but not this week. Not today. And specifically not at this hour, when you were still processing everything.

“Will you…” he continued hesitantly, his fingers playing with a loose thread on one of his gloves, a smile fighting to still be displayed on his lips. “Give me the honor and go with me to the dance?"

You said nothing, only slightly raised your eyebrows in surprise. That depends. You didn’t want to let the fireworks surround you. Skepticism came first, as it always had to.

But your silence seemed to jittered him, and he immediately jumped to explanation. “You know, because we’re best friends, and none of us have a date, and I don't know, I thought it would be fun? To go together. As friends. Casual thing. You know.” He shrugged.

You let out a smile at that, and it seemed to relax him a bit. Why was he so nervous? Of course you’d go with him. You were his best friend, and he was yours, he knew that. “Well, you are not a stranger I don't know or even like.” You joked.

He gave you a grin at that. “No, I’m not. So, you’d go? With me, I mean?”

He was cuter when he was nervous, it wasn’t fair. Why was he nervous again? You’d understand if it was you who were nervous, but why was he?

You couldn’t focus on anything besides the annoyingly loud flutter in your heart—and how hard you are trying to beat and stomp it to death right now. This doesn’t mean anything, it was just a friendly gesture. James was in love with Lily, there was no question, of course.

But you still felt the butterflies on your stomach go wild. You were fighting to contain that smile on your face, scared he’d figure out it wasn’t just any casual thing for you. You were going to the ball with your best friend and you realized there was no else you’d rather go with.

“Of course, James. You’re my best friend!” You smiled up at him, the warmth coming through your gloves from the hot drink was now small compared to the thrill that coursed through your body. “Though do you have a written contract for possible head damage compensation because I might need it.”

He shook his head, a slight relieved laughter came out of his lips. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me because of it.” You were only teasing, but you thought he looked at you with such sincerity in his eyes that it jarred your senses a bit.

“Yeah, I do.”

───────────────────────

#james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter #marauders x reader #the marauders #james potter imagine #james potter fic #my writing!#hp #requested #harry potter imagine

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pedal-writes · 4 months ago

Text

Homesick (2)

A/N: This one is a bit longer despite it honestly being filler but yk I gotta keep the grind up guys 🙏 oh yeah, don't mind the obligatory fanfic bestie, she isn't gonna have that big a role after this don't worry guys, big peepaw robot will only be on the mind soon lolz

Oh yeah and I added some dialogue from the book in here bc it's easier to translate that then movie dialogue so I'm gonna switch between the both of those, just an FYI!

It’s been about a week or so since you arrived in L.A.. Like Sam boasted about, he managed to get a car, a yellow camero to be exact. It was amusing how much he rubbed it in your face as if you didn’t get a car when you were literally his age. But you weren’t that bothered by his sudden load of cockiness and was just happy he managed to get some independence for himself.

Today, Felicity wanted to meet up with you and catch up over some dinner and maybe a shopping spree at the mall. She had been talking about it all week but couldn’t see you until now since she hasn’t found a good time to take off from work. You went through your suitcase and found a few cute clothing items that screamed casual but also girls night (more like day) out. As you picked up your purse and made sure all of your essentials were inside, you made your way out of your bedroom and down the stairs. A small chuckle left your lips when you heard your parents muffled voices bickering outside. They were working on the yard for the past few hours and your mom would constantly harp on what your dad did wrong. It was a little funny honestly.

Suddenly, you felt someone walk past you and a muffled sorry escaped their lips. You glanced over in confusion and saw Sam go into the garage. You snorted and decided to follow him, out of pure curiosity. As you walk into the garage and lean on the door frame, Sam scrambled to find his keys. “Hey Sam, what’s goin’ on?”

Sam glances over, his demeanor dropping a bit in annoyance. “I’m uh, going to this lake party. Miles is gonna come with me so y’know…”

“Wait, you got invited to an actual party?” You responded with a twinge of surprise in your voice. “No offense.”

“I mean not… officially. It’s a public place, anyone can go to the lake.” Sam said, making his way past you and towards one of the back doors. “And why are you so done up? You don’t usually wear clothes that nice.”

“Wh— Okay I’m going to ignore that you just said that. Anyways, Felicity is gonna pick me up in a few because she wanted to catch up since we haven’t seen each other in like forever.” You say as you adjust the purse hanging on your shoulder. As the name ‘Felicity’ leaves your mouth, Sam groans over dramatically and turns towards you. “You’re seriously still friends with that girl?”

“Duh! She’s my best friend Sam.”

“Yeah, more like she’s the best at being annoying. She would literally come here every single day after school and you two would talk about whatever girl problems you two had and by the way, I heard everything. The walls are very thin in this house.” Sam opened up the door and began to walk out. “I have no idea how mom and dad even tolerated it because I didn’t! You guys didn’t even listen to me when I complained.” He rants irritably, making his way towards the driveway.

“But she had a troubled home life! I was the only one there for her. And she hasn’t spent the night here since I was in high-school. That was, what, five years ago?” You explained as you followed close behind him. Both of you managed to step onto your father’s, Ron’s, lawn. “You two, I do not like footprints on my grass. Please step onto the very nice path I ever so carefully laid down.”

“Oh, sorry dad.” You mumbled and retraced your steps. You could practically hear Sam’s eye role as he begrudgingly did the same. “Mom, seriously, could you stop putting jewelry on Mojo? He’s got enough self-esteem issues as a Chihuahua without you pimping him every day.”

Judy frowned at her son. “You know I don’t like for you to use that term,” She scolded.

“Maybe you should put him back in the dryer, hon.” Ron said playfully.

You glanced towards your mother with a confused expression. “Wait, that’s how Mojo broke his leg? Mom, you told me he jumped off the counter and fell weird.”

“I– I was ashamed, it’s embarrassing. And It was an accident, Ron! I didn’t know he fell asleep in the laundry basket. You know how hard he is to see sometimes.” Judy reached down and picked up the small dog, cuddling him close to her chest despite Mojo’s frantic means to escape her grasp. “How’s your little leggy-weggy, huh, tough guy?” She cooed.

Hearing a small buzz come from your phone, you grab it from your pocket and see a message from Felicity.

‘I’m here nerd :P GET UR ASS OUT HERE!!’

“Oh uh, Felicity’s here. I’ll see you guys later. And have fun at your lake party, SAM.” You walk back into the house and hear a cut off ‘shut up’ as you close the door behind you. From the windows at the front of the house, you see that familiar white convertible parked in front of the house and excitedly open the front door, locking it behind you.

“Hey you! Long time no see.” Felicity said, resting her sunglasses on top of her head. You walk towards the car and open the door to sit inside. “Yeah, it’s certainly been awhile.” You lean over and give Felicity a hug, cringing slightly at the amount of perfume she’s wearing.

“So how are you? How’s your job?” Pulling away, she starts the car and drives down the neighborhood’s street. “I’m doing alright. I uh… quit my job. Some stuff happened with another coworker and I just couldn’t work there anymore.” You hesitantly answered, fidgeting with the strap of your purse.

“Oh snap. Was it like a creepy coworker thing or…”

“No no, nothing like that. Well I guess… kinda. It’s complicated. I had no idea what this guy’s problem with me was but he wouldn’t leave me alone! Always harassed me before, during, and after work. I tried to report him to H.R. but since he was positions above me, they just gave him a slap on the wrist.” You paused for a few moments and felt your cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment. “So one morning, I was so pent up I… hit him. Like punched him, really hard. I’m pretty sure I broke his nose and screwed up my hand really badly. It was a stupid thing, really…”

Felicity stayed quiet for a few seconds before a smile creeped onto her face. “That is so badass.”

You looked at her dumbfounded. “It was not badass!”

“It so was! You were like ‘you want a piece of me?! Bam!’ and then the creep went down. I bet he never bothered you again after that, huh?” She quipped, that same dumb smile resting on her face.

“No, he didn’t. But it cost me my job! It’s just really unprofessional.”

“But didn’t you quit it?”

You sighed. “I quit out of embarrassment, before they would inevitably fire me.”

“Oh. Well, since you’re so smart, I’m confident you’ll find another one. Maybe one without a weirdo guy.”

“Yeah, I hope so.” You rested your elbow against the hard material on the door and laid your head against your cheek, staring at the passing buildings and people with a mopey expression. You really were disappointed you lost a job that both perfectly matched your interests and paid highly. Maybe after being in L.A. for a few weeks will raise your spirits enough to start job hunting again, and get out of this weird depressive funk that’s been preventing you from doing so.

Felicity noticed your change in attitude and cleared her throat, changing the subject. “So I’ve been following this one news blog and apparently there are some high tensions between the U.S. and some other countries for some reason. I really hope a war doesn’t start because that would be, like, really bad.” She says, glancing between you and the road ahead of her.

“Oh yeah,” You sit up again and look at her. “I’ve seen stuff like that on the news. If a war does start, they would start drafting people right?”

Slowly the restaurant came into view and Felicity pulled the car into the parking lot. “Pretty sure, but only boys though. Woohoo for us I guess… Speaking of boys, how’s Sam doing?”

“He’s doing fine. He got a car recently, It’s kind of a piece of junk though. And he also still hates you.”

Felicity laughed as she pulled into an empty parking space. “Yeah I figured. Should I apologize to him? Since I kind of invaded your personal life for a good while.” She turned off the car and stepped out, grabbing her purse. You think about it and eventually nod, also exiting the vehicle. ”He’s annoying for sure but I’m gonna say yes. I care about the both of you and I don’t want any bad tension between you two, as funny as it is.”

“I’ll remember that. Oh, and when we get in here, only one alcoholic beverage. Cause I am not dragging your drunk ass out of here like last time.” She playfully bumped her shoulder into yours and opened the front door for you.

“What that– It was my 21st birthday! That’s not fair. I even said I wouldn’t do something like that again.” You argued.

“Riiight, okay. Just get in here.” You rolled your eyes and mumbled a ‘whatever’, to which Felicity chuckled.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

It was already night time when you and Felicity were done shopping at the mall. She was a bit of a bad influence considering how overboard you went with the shopping, with her excuse being ‘you’ll probably rarely get chances to visit Cali again so make it worth your while!’ But despite the amount of money you spent, you deemed it worth it considering you found the cutest pair of Uggs. As the two of you walked down the sidewalk, You let out a small sigh as you realized how far away Felicity had actually parked. It was a Saturday night so of course the mall was packed, so it made sense for her to park a block or two away.

What you both didn’t know was that there was a looming police car in the distance behind you, slowly creeping.

“Remember that one time in sophomore year when you liked that one jock-y kind of guy and during valentines day, you went up to give him a valentine and literally fell on your face?” You laughed, adjusting the bags in your hands so they wouldn’t be as uncomfortable in your hands.

“Oh my god, that was so embarrassing! It gives me second-hand embarrassment just thinking about it.” Felicity shivered.

“Hey, at least he asked if you were ok, even if he rejected you afterwards…”

“Ugh, can we talk about something else? Please?”

Soon, Felicity’s car came into view and you both crossed the street with urgency. As you put your bags in the backseat and got into the car, your brows furrowed at the police car parked beside the sidewalk you and Felicity were just walking. “Uh, Was that Cop car always there?” You pointed out to your friend.

“Mm, yeah no. I’m pretty sure he just drove up. He’s probably keeping a look out for thieves or junkies or something.” She replied, starting the car and beginning to pull out of the parking space. “Unless, you’re the thief.”

You playfully scoffed. “I wouldn’t steal anything!”

“I’m just joshing with you.” Felicity patted your back and drove down the dark street. A few minutes would pass before you would see that same cop car following behind you two from that same far distance as before. You brushed it off, he was probably just driving to get something to eat or go back to the station. But as Felicity turned the car a few more times and the car still didn’t change its direction, you started to get a little anxious.

“Felicity, that cop car is legitimately following us now.” You mumble, staring into the rear view mirrors with a small pit in your stomach.

“What? Should I pull over?” She replied in a worried manner.

“I don’t think so… He would turn his lights on or–or yell at us to pull over by now.”

Felicity decided to take a different way to your house and went down a darkened street with almost no streets nor people, to try and maybe lose him. The two of you still kept your eyes on the rear view lights before the car suddenly stopped. It sat there for a few seconds before making a U-turn and going back the way it entered, almost like it was being called by something. You both sighed in relief, “Thank god…” You muttered.

“That was really weird… Do you think he was gonna kidnap us or something?” Felicity looked at you with wide eyes.

The thought irked you a bit and you shook your head. “I don’t want to think about it, I just want to go home.”

Felicity nodded understandably and went back onto the regular route to your house. The ride wasn’t that long and as the car drove down your neighborhood’s street, the familiar shape of your family's home came into view. “Thank you for coming to hang out with me, I really missed you. And I’m sorry it ended weird with the whole cop thing…” Felicity said with a small frown on her face.

You huffed, leaning in and giving her a hug. “It’s okay. At least he left us alone and I got to spend some time with you.” You pulled away and smiled, to which she returned. You reached in the back and grabbed your bags, stepping out and closing the car door with your hip.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, please get home safe Fel.”

“Will do, tell your parents I said hi!” With that, Felicity started her car again and drove down the street. You watched her drive away for a few seconds before going into your house. When you opened your door, it was dark and you were pretty sure your parents were asleep. You walked up the stairs and you heard Sam’s muffled talking coming from his room. Something about how leaving someone behind at the lake wasn’t that big a deal and to ‘get over it.’

You snorted and headed towards your room, setting your bags down and closing the door. It was a bit late but you could probably still squeeze a shower in, considering you felt a bit sweaty from walking outside all that time. You took off your shoes and grabbed your towel off of the door, walking back into the hallway and into the bathroom. You didn’t want the shower to be too long considering how late it is so you moved with a sense of urgency, getting out after about 20 minutes.

After getting into some jammies and aggressively drying your hair with your towel, you flop into bed and sort of reminisce about the past day. While you were really happy you got to see your best friend again, you felt a bit irked out by that cop car following you and Felicity. There really was no rational explanation to justify why that car was following you so it was probably either a creepy guy who stole a police car, or worse, a creepy cop. The thought creeped you out and you sat up, yawning and rubbing your eyes tiredly. Your eyes dart over to under your door and you see a little bit of light that was coming from Sam’s room. That gave you an idea. You grabbed a blanket and a pillow and made your way out of your room. You stopped at Sam’s door and knocked. The sound of approaching footsteps were heard and the door opened, Sam standing there with a neutral expression. “What’s up?”

“Can I sleep in your room tonight?” You hesitantly asked, honestly feeling a little childish.

Sam rolled his eyes. “You’re a grown woman, with your own room, and I need my privacy. So if you don't mind—” As he closed the door, you gently stopped it with your hand and gave him a saddened look. “Please Sam, I don’t think I want to be alone right now.”

His eyes widened slightly and he sighed, opening the door fully and letting you enter. You found an empty spot on the carpeted floor and threw your pillow down, sitting down beside it. “So… Did something bad happen today?” Sam asked, walking over and sitting on his bed.

“No—well, yeah I guess. Felicity and I were on our way over here and this cop car was just slowly driving after us. I didn’t think much of it at first until Felicity turned a few times and that car was still behind us. We were panicking and I thought ‘oh my god i’m going to die’ before the creep stopped and turned around. It wasn’t fun, like at all.” As you talked, you laid your head down against your pillow and pulled your blanket over you, looking over at your brother.

“Oh damn, I’m sorry. That sounds freaky.” Sam said with a frown.

“Yeah it certainly was. I’m just glad we managed to get out of there without getting hurt or worse… Anyways, I’m gonna change the subject now. How was the lake party?”

Sam grinned at the question. “You won’t believe it when I tell you, cause it’s that unbelievable.”

“Spill.”

“Mikaela Banes actually got into my car and I drove her home, in my car!”

You sat up with a bewildered expression. “Bullshit!”

“I’m serious!”

The two of you talked and laughed for a little while after that and soon drifted off to sleep, you forgetting about the mildly upsetting events that transpired today. A few hours had passed of peaceful slumber until you heard a car revving and Sam running out his door in a hurry. You were still a bit dazed and your tired mind registered it as nothing, so you quickly fell back to sleep.

#sigh I’m struggling a little on ch3 #but it’s getting there guys #transformers #tf bayverse #bayverse #bayformers #optimus prime #optimus prime x reader #bayverse optimus prime x reader #maccadam

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stayinhellevator · 1 year ago

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Hard To Love

Where Chan was hard to love but harder to not. Pairing: Bang Chan x gn!Reader // Lee Know x gn!Reader Genre: Angst with fluff at the end / friends to lovers Word Count: 4471 Warning: cuss words, implied toxic behaviour, mentions of a girlfriend and ragging. Playlist: Every Road Leads ~ Bette Midler

Bang Chan was hard to love. To you at least.

You had known Christopher Bang all your life. Your parents were neighbours turned friends which naturally passed on to Chan and you; childhood best friends keeping their friendship intact all the way to high school and even through college. And now, even as you both were adults, occupied in your own jobs, your friendship still remained, stronger than ever.

It was safe to say, you had the best memories with Chan. Be it breaking rules or crying over some soppy ass movie on a Saturday night; laughing at weird corny jokes or bawling over a nasty breakup. All your firsts also belonged to each other, call it curiosity or whatever. There wasn’t much to complain about your platonic journey with Chan.

Except when there was. Things weren’t all that platonic on your end, after all. And how couldn’t they? Chan was perfect after all, at least for you. To you. But it was hard to love Christopher ‘Chan’ Bang.

“Hey __!! Where’s Chan hyung? Is he not coming tonight?”

Jeongin’s loud call jerked you back into the present, as you noticed all of their attention was now on you.

“He said he’ll be on time and now everyone’s here while he’s slacking.”

Hyunjin dramatically shook his head, as if to expressly show his disapproval, not that Chan or anyone in the room cared much.

“How would I know? I’m right here, sitting with you guys, aren’t I?”

You tried using sarcasm as a way to ward off their attention from you, knowing that they thought you both must’ve fought and were now grovelling for each other. But the truth was, you really didn’t know where Chan was; you hadn’t known anything about him for a few months now.

“I don’t know, you guys are always attached to each other’s hip so…”

Jisung’s voice, masked with indifference, couldn’t hide the amusement that filled his eyes at the irony of the situation, which made you scoff in annoyance.

As Chan and you got into high school, you befriended Changbin and Minho respectively and together you guys made a lot of memories and unable to part ways, you took admission in the same college where you found Jisung and his younger brother Seungmin, then Hyunjin and lastly Minho’s younger brother Jeongin too joined your group, all of them a year junior to the four of you. The last to join your group was also a junior, another Australian, Felix, that Chan saved from ragging and introduced him to your group. Since then the nine of you are inseparable.

Honestly though, the group was always divided a little by biases towards Chan and you. Changbin and Minho sided with you for some reason. If teams were being formed, they would be the first to pick you, even when Chan wouldn’t and you could now for sure say that if things ever went downhill, they’d be the ones to never leave your side whereas Hyunjin, Han and Jeongin always biased Chan, dare you say revered him for some reason. Felix was the obvious one, Chan literally was his knight in shining armour though your friends always joked that he had some kind of bi-panic towards Chan and you. Seungmin on the other hand, couldn’t be bothered less. If it were casually picking teams, he’d go by whatever team he was feeling that day. But if it were a serious issue, he’d always side with whatever he thought was right. So he never really picked a side.

In his words, “I dislike you motherfuckers all the same.” But you knew that his precious heart would and could never pick sides. And you adored him and this little chosen family of yours, even if they gave you run for your money sometimes, a little less than you adored Chan though.

Chan was for a lack of better words, MIA these days. He used to tell you that he couldn’t survive an hour without you, which was somewhat true based on your history. You guys were indeed always attached to hip, no matter how much you wanted to punch the smirk off Jisung’s face.

“Sorry guys I had an emergency.”

Lo and behold, there he was. The man of the hour, truly. He was on everybody’s mind yet you couldn’t be sure what or who was on HIS mind. Strolling in so casually and effortlessly gorgeous, oblivious to the storm in your head, greeting everyone with that bright smile of his that easily made your heart skip a beat or two. He exuded main character energy; the handsome protagonist that makes all the girls in college swoon, that is adored by children and elders alike, the favourite friend of all the parents, the one that can easily make friends with even the coldest person in the world, the one who got the most roses during valentines and would smoothly reject them with the most innocent face as if he didn’t know the entire female population of the college liked him.

He was annoying and charming and you were just another female in that lot, who failed to resist him. But who could blame you when you were so close to him that you could almost taste the kind of love that you wanted from him. You were not delusional after all, just hopeful.

“Hey sweet girl! How are you doing?”

But it was harder to not love him, especially when he spoke to you like that. The sweet nicknames in his honey like voice, the genuine adoration in his alluring eyes and the way his words seemed to always melt your heart in a mush. You’ve loved him ever since you first understood what love was.

“I’m good. How about you?”

You could feel the squeak in your words, and so did the other seven men in the room, as if someone had wrung your throat and made you answer but Chan only passed you his infamous flashing smile.

“I’m good too, now that I’ve seen you.”

And he said it so casually, oblivious to the heat spreading the entirety of your face and the racing of your heart, that you knew it didn’t mean what you actually wanted it to mean. This was the real him, he had always been good with words, it came naturally to him. Maybe you weren’t a special case to him for he naturally had so much love to give to everyone, even if you selfishly wanted to be the only one.

Maybe, this was all he ever was-oblivious. He couldn’t see what the rest of your friends could, your parents could, the entire college could, heck you’re sure even a stranger would if they were to be in your vicinity. But he didn’t. He couldn’t see the person he said he knew the best. At least, not anymore. You should’ve known. He was the best at obliviousness.

“You were the one who disappeared and are now suddenly back with your cheesy words.”

You rolled your eyes at him, trying to feign nonchalance, pretend that you didn’t care about him, pretend that it didn’t hurt, his actions don’t hurt. After all, this was what you were the best at-pretence.

He sat beside you with a soft, dramatic ‘oof’ and wrapped his arms around your shoulders in a bear hug. You let out a sigh of relief, as if a burden was lifted off your shoulders.

“I’m sorry. I know that’s on me but I was going through something, that I’ll soon share with you, before you say it. You know I’d never abandon you like that, don’t you?”

You did know that, didn’t you? Chan had always been so attentive and caring towards you ever since your first day at kindergarten together. Holding your hands all the way up to class, tending to your physical injuries, lending his shoulders to cry on, memorised all your allergies and actively watched out for you, never letting you walk on the road side, crossing roads with you as if he were protecting a child, having your orders from all cafés and restaurants at the back of his mind and even healing all your mental scars, all but that which were related to him. How could you not love him when he made you feel like you were on top of the world, like you two were the only ones for each other, like he reciprocated your feelings? These little things were what actually attracted you to him.

Only to go on dates with people that could even give supermodels run for their money. His dates made you realise that you would never be close to his ideal type, you’d never be what he wants in life, thereby discouraging you from confessing whenever you mustered up some courage.

“Yeah you’re being unfair to all of us. Do you know how much __ missed you? Kept asking about you all the damn time.”

You glared at Felix with so much heat that he visibly squirmed at his place, beside Seungmin, who though had a blank look on his face, smacked his arm as if gesturing to stop his nonsense.

“The last time I remember, it was Chan’s minions, who were hassling __ for his whereabouts, Felix, wasn’t it?”

Changbin, as always, your saviour took your side and effectively shut the boys up, who were clearly enjoying your plight.

“Ah! My bad, guys. But what’s so wrong with my girl missing me, Bin?”

You jerked up from his hold to look at him but he didn’t let your hands escape his as he stared back at you with a playful glint in his warm eyes. You could hear a lot of ‘oohs’ and giggles around you but you couldn’t care less because he was doing it again; giving you hope that you guys were something more, only to turn around and switch to the same old best friends forever shit.

“No no there’s absolutely nothing wrong with YOUR girl missing you.”

You could hear Hyunjin’s annoying drawl but you held your breath, waiting for him to do just exactly what you expected of him, you knew him better than he knew you after all, heck you knew him better than he knew himself and you knew you couldn’t be wrong about him, even though you kept hoping against hope. You wanted to be wrong tonight.

“Exactly! So stop teasing my best friend about it.”

Yup! There it was; the tag that you once wore with honour gradually turning into a weight holding you down. The giggles quietened as your shoulders sunk and you relaxed back into the couch, you didn’t know what’s on everyone’s mind but you surely expected it to happen once again because you also knew that Chan had always enjoyed attention, you just didn’t expect to be one of his enjoyment sources as well but you slowly learnt that maybe you were too. He liked knowing that he had your heart on the palm of his hands; knowing that he was the only one for you, finding comfort in the fact that no matter what he did and no matter where he went, he could always come back home to you. And you would take him back with open arms, like a fool. Always.

But you had enough. You thought tonight you’ll tell him of your feelings and be done with it, once and for all. You knew he won’t accept them but at least you’d get your closure with his rejection and move on to a life without the hopes of Chan as your boyfriend.

“Then start being my best friend properly. I can’t be the only one in this friendship anymore, could I?”

You knew the weight of your words surprised not only Chan but also the rest of the group, who now looked alert and uncomfortable, knowing it wasn’t a jest anymore for you. Chan’s eyes widened with disbelief did nothing to deter yours filled with determination.

“Baby don’t be like that. For once, think about me and you’d understand why I was gone for a while. Please don’t make a scene tonight, when all of us are here and so happy together; when I’m so happy after a long time.”

His words, as much as had the powers to heal me, also had the powers to destroy me from within. How could he so subtly call me selfish? I don’t think about him? If only he still cared about me he’d know that all I ever thought about was him. Did he also imply that he was so unhappy but all I did was ignore him and make a scene out of everything? I didn’t listen to him? Hah! If he wanted, I could recite everything he’s ever said to me, word by word. That’s how much I paid attention to him.

“That was a little too harsh, wasn’t it Chan hyung? Why don’t you just get straight to the point and save us all the misery of your oh-so-unhappy-life?”

Seungmin, as always the blunt Angel that he was, said with a finality. When all Chan saw was the disbelief on everyone’s face and understood that he disappointed everyone with the choice of his words, he knew he took it too far.

“Okay! I guess it’s time to tell you all. You remember the hot girl I hooked up with in that downtown bar six months ago?”

Of course you did, even if nobody else did because you remember feeling like a 16 year old heartbroken kid all over again when you found Chan making out with a beautiful stranger when you turned to find him after a quick toilet break.

“Well we caught up again six months back and decided to see where it leads us. We took a break off to Jeju and damn I had the time of my life. I think it’s safe to say we’re ready to date now. I don’t think I’ve been happier in my life ever.”

Six months since Chan disappeared on you, leaving you wondering if you did something wrong. Six months since he left you and started thinking of a life with someone else, without informing you. Granted you didn’t have to know everything about his life but he couldn’t even tell you he’d be gone, as a best friend?

Oh! How pathetic you were, truly. When all your happiness only ever relied on him, he didn’t even think you had ever made him feel joyous. Were you jealous, angry, hopeless or heartbroken? You didn’t know; maybe all of it, in that order. Suddenly 24 years of friendship felt suffocating to you, useless even, if he couldn’t share his whereabouts and woes with you.

“Wah! You’re so cool dude. You got two of the coldest and the most gorgeous chicks of our college crazy in love with you. Damn!”

And of course Hyunjin was going to praise Chan, as if he had saved the world. Even Jeongin looked scandalised with the amount of bullshit that came out of Hyunjin’s mouth, then it was fair enough that Minho almost strangled him.

“Wait! Two? Who’s the other one.”

Hah! What a funny guy he was; couldn’t even keep quiet for once and let you silently grovel in your misery. Thankfully though, the chime of your phone from a colleague gave you an excuse to escape. Of course you weren’t going to actually answer the phone because you didn’t think you could form words without a tremor in your voice.

But you couldn’t stop your thoughts from going haywire now. Should you have told him sooner? Was it your fault? Were you not obvious enough? Of course he wouldn’t actually ever pick you, who were you after all? He had so many better choices, someone he would be proud to have by his side. You were never enough, you had always known then why did it hurt so much?

“You can stop blaming yourself now.”

Minho’s sweet voice tinged with sternness infiltrated your thoughts as you saw him take a seat beside you on the patio bench. You took deep breaths, trying to hold your emotions.

“You once told me it was okay to cry and let out my feelings in front of you because you’d never judge me for it. Tonight I ask the same of you. I think you’ve tortured yourself enough.”

An exhausted sigh followed by a stream of tears finally escaped you as you let your emotions wash over you and rest your head on Minho’s shoulder. Never had you ever thought that someone other than Chan would ever be able to comfort you, least of all Minho.

Minho wasn’t the most expressive person, even if you could swear that he was the one who felt the most emotions-the most hurt, the happiest, the most excited and even the angriest. You knew that he checked his emotions so damn much because sometimes they drove him, in his words, insane. While you knew he had your back as did, you his, he wasn’t your closest friend. You had the least amount of memories with him, you both were a weird bunch to be honest.

“This was bound to happen one day then why does it hurt so much?”

You didn’t even think he heard your whisper but he surprised you, not that you even expected a reply.

“Because feelings can’t be helped and you felt too many of them for just one person all your life.”

You buried your face in his shoulders as your cries turned into silent sobs and his arms tightened around you. You could swear it was the safest you’d felt in a while, dare you say like the comfort of a home and you wondered why Minho had never held you before for you swore his hug was soothing.

“I think it’s better this way.”

Your words prompted him to make distance so as to look at your face but you weren’t ready to look at his face, afraid of his judgement.

“He’s perfect in every sense and he seeks perfection in every sense while I can never be even close to perfection nor have I ever strived to be. You know those main characters of a movie who’s rich, good looking, charming, got a gorgeous troublesome ex but somehow ends up with a character that’s completely opposite of them? Chan is that main character to me. I think that even if I confessed to him and he had accepted me I’d always be anxious, trying my best to keep him in my life, make sure he’d never grow bored of me, be his perfect other half and that would’ve ultimately killed the person within me that he liked, or if ever liked.”

You gave a bitter smile at your fate and walked away from the bench while staring at the moon that looked so pretty yet unattainable, just like Chan. So close yet so far.

“He never deserved you any way. You deserve so much better and more than he could give you.”

You let out a sarcastic scoff at Minho’s words as you felt him coming closer to you.

“And who said that?”

“I’m saying that. Changbin says that. Heck, even Chan’s minions know that. If this isn’t enough for you, then all those roses in your locker say that.”

You were sure there was a frown on your face at his reply. Maybe Minho was more delusional than you because no way in hell so many people would ever think that way. You appreciated his efforts to make you feel better but he didn’t have to lie to your face. All of a sudden, you felt his fingers on your jaw, pulling you to face him as you stood wide-eyed in surprise.

“You never noticed these things because you were so busy noticing what Chan needed. You never noticed those roses and letters in your locker because you were focused on his; you rejected all prom dates because you were busy moping as he picked his date; you never noticed how the entire college stoped to look back at you as you entered the campus because you were always focused on what Chan was saying. You never noticed how much I love you because you were busy loving him.”

The only words that managed to knock your breath out after this sudden proximity between you two were the last few words that escaped from him as his eyes softened at your now misty ones while his fingers kept caressing your cheeks as if to ground you to the present.

“Minho!”

And a soft whisper of his name was all you could manage to let out. You were sure that your heart had pretty much skipped an entire rhythm right now. How could he be in love with you? He never even gave any signs. He was always so distant that you even thought he disliked you when you first spoke to him. He rested his head on yours as both of you closed your eyes, feeling an ecstasy that was never felt before.

“I’ve been in love with you ever since I first saw you in the college cafeteria. It was impossible to not notice you when you were practically glowing in my eyes; so pretty, had such a sweet giggle, spoke so passionately about how Toy Story 1 was the best movie and other sequels should’ve never been made, cried over a hurt kitten all in one day of knowing you; all these things made me want to wrap you in a blanket burrito and never let go.”

You let out a little chuckle as your grip tightened on his shirt and more tears escaped you.

“I wanted to approach you, tell you I wanted to date you but you were clearly not interested in anything romantic if it wasn’t with Chan so I settled for being friends. I thought it was better to have some of you than none of you. You said that Chan was the main character in your story but you were the main character in mine.”

This time you didn’t stop the sob that came out of you, thinking about how much you hurt him unintentionally. You also couldn’t stop thinking about a possibility of all that could’ve been if you took off the rose tinted glasses through which you saw Chan, even once.

“Maybe this is my punishment Minho. I kept hurting you, just as much as I kept getting hurt. I kept blaming Chan in my head but what’s the difference between him and I, when I did the same to you?”

He immediately shook his head and held you by the shoulders with so much resolve that it compelled you to stop rambling and listen to him.

“There’s a lot of differences between the two of you. You never gave me any mixed signals, you never played push and pull with my emotions, you always knew what you wanted; I was the one hurting because I couldn’t let go of you. Our situation is different than Chan and yours. How were you to know that I felt this way about you when I kept my distance? But you’ve to understand that I was reserved because I was scared about the intensity of my love towards you, even when we had so much space between us. What would’ve happened if I didn’t push myself out of the frame? Would that have been better for the two of us?"

As you looked at his doe eyes that reflected the depth of his soul, you knew for sure, that this man right here would’ve been able to break through all your walls of false hopes and easily made you love him, perhaps more than you’ve ever loved anyone.

“Maybe!”

Both of you nodded and whispered in a silent agreement but refused to let of each other, needing to believe that this moment was true, that it was really happening.

“Then would you wait a little more for me?”

You could see the glimmer of hope in his eyes that he squashed with confusion, not wanting to get disappointed for hoping about something that he long gave up on without even trying but you were determined to not hurt and get hurt anymore. Maybe this was a new beginning for you, for him and for Chan.

“Wait for what?”

You took a deep breath and clutched his hand that was still unknowingly caressing the back of your neck.

“Please wait for me to get over my heartbreak and let me get to know you as something more than just friends. I know what I’m asking of you is a bit selfish but I don’t want to treat you as a rebound, as a replacement of what I couldn’t have, as an outlet of my heartbreak. I want us to be real and our beginning shouldn’t be formed on the basis of my negative baggage. You deserve the best and while I may not be the best, I want to be at least my best for you; for us.”

His beaded eyes shone with something that you couldn’t really place but you knew that you could travel to the end of the world if it meant that his eyes would shine like that.

“I’ve waited for you when there wasn’t any hope or reason to. Imagine how long I could wait for you now that you’ve given me a reason to.”

Yes, you were definitely a fool to not notice this pure hearted man who might not have stood by your side but always around you, silently protecting you and loving you without expecting anything in return. But what you did notice was how you liked this kind of crying where you couldn’t even stop smiling at each other, especially when his bunny smile looked so endearing on him.

And as you both wrapped each other around in an intimate lovers’ hold you finally felt contentment, as if the last piece of a huge complicated puzzle finally snapped in place. You pressed your nose in his shirt, letting his scent comfort you and could already feel yourself wanting to drift off to somewhere only you and him existed.

While it may have been harder to not love Chan, you think it may be criminal to not love Minho.

What you both didn’t notice was a pair of eyes in the corner of the yard, observing you two since the beginning, overwhelmed but feeling a crack in his heart that he never even imagined he would. Were new beginnings supposed to make your heart twist like that?

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