#childhood friends to lovers!au

[witchywithwhiskey]

first and last

pairing: childhood best friend!steve rogers x female reader

summary: after more than a decade away from your home town—and your childhood best friend—you return. everything is exactly the same, but also, entirely different.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), fluff, angst, smut, drunken antics, some arguing, drunk masturbation (f) with an audience, semi-public, choking, dirty talk, praise kink, begging, boundaries, very light bdsm vibes, references to past sexual intimacy (piv sex, oral sex [f receiving]), nicknames (buttercup, baby), aftercare

word count: 8.8k

a/n: this is my entry in @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar Challenge, and i've been working on it since june so i'm very excited to post it!!! i wanted to make a sundae i'd actually eat so i used the prompts Butterscotch (childhood friends) and Caramel (drunk/delirious/not in their right mind). it also might be a bit literal to have Steve working at an ice cream shop but whatever!!

i mentioned when i teased this fic that i'd thought about turning it into a much longer story/potentially saving it for a novel, but honestly i just don't know when or if i'll ever have time to do that. but these scenes don't necessarily follow right after each other, so if they feel disconnected, that's why. they're just the ones i wanted to write 😅

The sidewalk of Brambleberry Cove was warm from a full day under the August sun, the concrete gritty with sand beneath your bare feet as you walked the rest of the short distance to Seaside Scoops from your rental house a few blocks away. 

The sun dipped low on the western horizon, casting long shadows over the coastal town like stretching fingers reaching for the Atlantic Ocean. You could hear the steady sound of the crashing waves over the near distant sand dunes, their rhythm a background to your walk. 

It could’ve been a peaceful moment—you were back in your home town, surrounded by familiar sights and sounds and smells. But you were in a wretched mood, and all you could focus on was everything wrong with the world and your current place in it.

There was, of course, the throbbing pain in your big toe from when you’d stubbed it moments ago on the cursed, charming sidewalk, as well as the slight sting on the sides of your foot where your flip flop straps had torn. Your ruined shoes dangled from your fingers because Brambleberry Cove didn’t have a trash can on every street corner like the city you were accustomed to living in. 

In addition to those grievances, the straps of your bathing suit—which you hadn’t worn in far too long and hadn’t realized had become too small—were digging into your shoulders and hips uncomfortably. And, though you’d only been walking for five minutes from the little bungalow you were renting, your thighs were already beginning to chafe beneath the simple dress you’d thrown on. 

All told, you were not in the mood to appreciate the simple beauty of Brambleberry Cove. Instead of admiring the sun-bleached cottages that gave way to the small coastal shops lining main street, and letting yourself sink into the comfort of being back in your tiny beachside home town, you were fixated on everything wrong in your life—both in that moment and the larger scheme of things.

In your defense, though, there was a lot wrong in your life. There’d had to be to get you back to your home town after so long away. 

There was the dream job you’d lost, the ex who’d left you for someone else, and the friends who’d all promised to be there for you, but then vanished when you actually needed help. The only people who’d come through for you were your parents, who’d had a friend willing to rent a little Brambleberry Cove bungalow to you for a fraction of its normal summer price since it was already August and they weren’t going to make much more money anyway. 

You’d had to pack up and leave the city where you’d built your life for 15 years, and move back to your home town, which you hadn’t seen in nearly that long since your parents had moved out west shortly after you’d graduated high school. Being back home made you feel like you weren’t only taking a single step backward, but moving leaps and bounds in the wrong direction. It made you feel like a failure. 

But you tried not to think about all that on your short walk to Seaside Scoops, instead focusing on the pain in your toe and the digging ache of your bathing suit. 

By the time you saw the familiar neon sign for the ice cream shop, it felt like finding an oasis in the desert. You picked up your pace, ignoring the way your body protested, the soles of your feet no longer used to walking on the sandy sidewalk like you’d done countless times growing up in Brambleberry Cove. 

You could see through the window that there was a short line in Seaside Scoops, and you hurriedly pushed through the door of the shop. Once inside, you breathed in the familiar scent of sugar and hot fudge and reveled in the feel of the air conditioner ghosting over your sun-warmed shoulders. 

Surreptitiously, you shoved your ruined flip flops into the garbage just inside the door and got in line behind the couple with their two small children. You glanced around the shop, not really taking it in, and hoped whoever was working behind the counter was still lax on the ‘no shirt, no shoes, no service’ rule that had theoretically been in place since before you were born—but had never been enforced in practice. 

Finally looking to the counter, wondering idly if you’d recognize who was working or if it’d be some local teen that had been a baby the last time you’d been to Brambleberry Cove, you were shocked to see who was working at Seaside Scoops. Your belly swooped like you were standing on a boat on the choppy sea, your heart racing when you recognized the man behind the counter. At one time, he’d been the boy you’d shared so much of your childhood with, so many of your summers with. 

When you got a good look at him, you were almost surprised you recognized him so fast. He was no longer the scrawny teenager you’d left behind when you’d gone off to college and never looked back. He looked so different from the boy you’d known well enough you could recall his face in perfect detail, but, in so many ways, exactly the same.

On the whole, it was a shock to see the man Steve Rogers had become. 

Sandy brown hair fell on either side of his handsome, suntanned face, swept back like he had a habit of running his hands through it countless times a day. A short, well-kept beard decorated his strong jaw, bracketing a set of soft pink lips that were curved in a devastating grin. His bright blue eyes sparkled beneath the fluorescent lights of the shop, and when he spoke to the family in front of you in line, his voice rumbled like the distant roar of the ocean.

Seeing Steve Rogers for the first time in over 15 years made something loosen in your chest, anxiety uncoiling from around your heart and shaking free for the first time in a long time. A sense of safety and comfort washed over you, and you had the sudden thought that this was how you were supposed to feel about coming home. 

But you shoved that thought aside and continued your perusal of your childhood best friend, making note of all the ways he’d changed from the boy you’d known.

Thick, golden biceps were bare and bulging beneath the edge of his white t-shirt, and dense, brown hair covered corded forearms as Steve folded his arms on top of the ice cream case. He was tall—tall enough to lean over the case to talk to the kids with the couple in front of you, asking them about their favorite ice cream flavors and if they’d like to try anything new.

The kids, a boy and a girl, both stared up at him with wide eyes, shyness and wonder clear in their twin expressions. They looked to their parents for permission before shyly revealing what flavors they’d like to try. Steve gave a deep, hearty chuckle at their timidness, and complimented them on their choices, which seemed to make them both loosen up a bit.

Inexplicable heat flushed through your body at the sound of Steve’s deep laughter, and the easiness with which he interacted with the kids. You’d never been particularly good with children, mainly because you’d never had much of a chance to interact with any, and you’d never felt any particular desire to be around them. But seeing Steve looking like he did talking to those kids made your belly swoop again and something inside you pulse with a need you didn’t want to fully unpack.

Shoving those thoughts into a box in the back corner of your mind, you forced yourself to look away from your childhood friend and up at the menu that listed all the ice cream flavors. You’d been to Seaside Scoops hundreds of times in your life, if not thousands, and, at one time, you’d had the list memorized. 

Hopefully you still had that knowledge tucked away somewhere in your brain, because you weren’t taking in anything you were reading as you not-so-patiently waited for Steve to finish up with the customers in front of you.

It felt like forever, and by the time the family took their cups and cones of ice cream toward the side door that opened up into an outdoor seating area, you’d already cycled through three rounds of the same argument with yourself about why you should leave Seaside Scoops without talking to Steve. You couldn’t imagine your first conversation in 15 years going well.

But you couldn’t leave without talking to him. Not when he was right there and it had been so long and you were dying to know everything that he’d done in the last 15 years since you saw him last. 

Still, it took you a few extra seconds to gather the courage to lower your eyes from the menu board and finally look at your childhood friend. When you did, your gaze caught immediately on Steve’s, and your heart gave a little flip at the devastatingly charming smile on his impossibly handsome face.

“Hey there, buttercup,” Steve rumbled, his tone as friendly and familiar as it had always been. All of a sudden, it felt like no time had passed at all. 

“Hi, Steve,” you said, trying for the same casualness he’d achieved, but your voice sounded faint and faraway in your ears. The corners of your mouth flickered in a tremulous smile.

You couldn’t understand the surge of emotion filling your chest and rising in your throat, pricking at the backs of your eyes like you wanted to throw yourself into your oldest friend’s arms and sob about everything wrong in your life. 

The same deluge of emotion had hit you when you’d stubbed your toe on your walk to Seaside Scoops and you’d had to stand there by yourself, sucking in deep breaths of salty Brambleberry Cove air, nails biting into the flesh of your palms to keep yourself from breaking down. 

Just as you’d done then, you beat back the emotion, blinking your eyes rapidly to rid them of tears. Still, a thought needled you as you stood across the counter from Steve—the knowledge that if you did let yourself break down and cry, he wouldn’t hesitate to fold you into that broad chest of his, wrapping you up in his thick arms and holding you so securely, the world might not seem so grim anymore. 

You chalked it up to nostalgia and the rough time you were having, forcing yourself to take a deep breath and paste on a bright smile. Casting your eyes around Seaside Scoops, you pretended to give the place a real look, though you didn’t really notice much as you continued to blink back tears. 

“You work here now?” you asked lightly, looking at the new standee in the corner.

It was a cartoon shark holding up a sign advertising Seaside Scoops and their many ice cream flavors. But what caught your eye was that it looked a bit like the shark Steve had drawn for you when you’d gotten a bad grade sophomore year and wanted to cheer you up. It even had the same little sailor hat sitting perched on top of his head—which only made sense because sharks didn’t have blowholes, he’d told you at the time.

You’d smiled then, and you smiled again remembering it.

“Uhh,” Steve started, and you turned tear-free eyes back on your old friend, your gaze drawn to the way his bicep bulged against the sleeve of his t-shirt as he scuffed the back of his neck. There was a little bit of a sheepish tinge to his smile. “I actually own Scoops now,” he said in a rush, like he was confessing to something, though you couldn’t imagine what. “I bought it when Mr. Wallace retired down to Florida.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to say, glancing around the ice cream shop with a keener eye.

The shark standee wasn’t the only new thing in the place. Everything, from the tables and chairs to the menu board and counter, looked slightly newer than you remembered. Nothing was wildly different, which was why you hadn’t noticed it when you first looked around. Everything just looked better than it should if it had aged a decade since you’d last stepped into the shop.

Something about it made you think Seaside Scoops looked exactly like your memory of it—but the polished, perfect version in your head, instead of the place as it had been. Yellowed with age and a lack of upkeep. It was genuinely astounding what Steve had done with the place and it took you a few moments to find the right words, though they still felt pale in comparison to the bittersweet nostalgia in your heart.

“The place looks great,” you said with a half smile as you turned back to Steve. A small thread of pride wormed through your heart at seeing what your oldest friend had accomplished and your smile widened when he brightened under your praise. “I like the shark,” you said, hooking a thumb over your shoulder at the standee. 

A bit of pink tinted Steve’s cheeks above his beard, and he cleared his throat. 

“Is a dipped twist still your favorite?” he asked, clearly trying to change the subject and your smile dimmed just a little. The Steve you’d known had been shy about showing his art to anyone but you, and it seemed that you’d been gone long enough to be lumped in with everyone else. 

You swallowed back a lump in your throat and nodded. “Yeah, that’s still my favorite,” you answered, more than a little surprised Steve remembered your order.

Sure, you’d gone to Seaside Scoops together countless times as kids. It had been your hangout spot for most of your childhood, and even into your teen years. You’d study together over a cup of cookie dough with sprinkles for Steve and a cone of vanilla and chocolate softserve dipped in chocolate sauce for you. But that was more than a decade ago.

Your heart gave a heavy squeeze when you remembered the night before you’d left Brambleberry Cove, the way Steve reminded you of the promise you’d made as children—that you’d always be friends. Your stomach twisted into knots as you were confronted with the reality that you hadn’t kept up your end of the deal. You’d left, and you’d allowed your oldest friend to become a stranger. 

You wondered if Steve remembered the promise you’d made, the reminder he’d given you as a parting gift, or if he’d forgotten. You wondered if he’d ever want to be friends again.

Steve’s back was to you, his wrist flicking expertly beneath the softserve machine as he filled up a sugar cone with the twist of chocolate and vanilla. You forced yourself to push aside the memories of the past, blinking back more tears before Steve could catch them in your eyes. 

You and Steve weren’t friends anymore, and you needed to accept that. It was unreasonable to hold him to a promise he’d made more than two decades ago, especially when you were the one who’d left and had barely tried to stay in touch between college classes and exploring your new city.

With a great amount of effort, you kept your mind blissfully blank as you let your gaze trail idly over Steve’s broad back, unable to stop yourself from noticing just how wide his shoulders were, or the way they moved beneath the soft, worn cotton of his t-shirt. He really did fill out the shirt well, his sides tapering down to a thin waist. And his ass looked particularly good in the curve-hugging denim of his jeans. 

As Steve turned around, you raised your eyes quickly and arranged your expression into one of innocence. Steve paused, giving you a shrewd look like he would’ve done when you were teenagers and you were hiding something from him, but then he just shook his head and laughed under his breath, turning to the chocolate sauce where he’d dip your ice cream cone. 

“So, what brings you back to Brambleberry Cove, buttercup?” Steve asked, his gaze focusing on dipping your ice cream just right, a look of determination on his face that was endlessly endearing. 

You grimaced at the exact moment he glanced up at you, and he chuckled at the face you made. The sound was smooth as warm caramel and sent a new wave of heat rolling down your spine. 

“That bad, huh?” he asked, genuine interest in his tone.

Although there was a point in your life when you could’ve told Steve anything, and the urge to do so still lingered deep in your bones, you knew your relationship was different. You couldn’t dump all your problems on your childhood friend after not talking to him for 15 years. You didn’t even know if you were still friends anymore. 

Plus, there was a small crowd gathering behind you as the late dinner rush started to filter into Seaside Scoops. Even if you’d wanted to tell Steve everything that had happened to you in the 15 years since you’d last seen him, it wasn’t the time. 

So you just gave him a sad smile and accepted the ice cream cone from Steve’s hand, ignoring the butterflies and ticklish warmth that fluttered through your body at his touch. You gripped the sugar cone tight—but not too tight—so you didn’t fumble it. 

“Yeah,” you whispered in answer to his question, leaving it at that. There was an awkward beat, and your eyes dropped to the ice cream that was already beginning to melt despite the air conditioning in the shop. Thankfully, you had an easy way to move past Steve’s questions. 

You pulled some cash from the wristlet where you’d also stashed your phone and I.D., asking, “What do I owe you?” because you figured it must’ve been more expensive than what you remembered. And you didn’t want to risk looking up at the menu and catching Steve’s eye, not wanting any of the emotions or heat that seemed to flood you whenever you looked at him.

But a large, warm, golden hand closed over your fumbling fingers, startling you enough to look up into the sky blue eyes of your childhood friend. Your lips fell open in surprise as tingling warmth worked its way up your arm from your hand, wrapping around your heart and making it beat harder. 

For a long moment, you simply stared at each other. Steve really had grown up and changed so much, the evidence in the weathered grooves of his forehead and the lines between his brows, but his eyes still looked the same—soft as clouds, warm as the summer sun. 

“It’s on the house,” he murmured, his voice low and earnest, the thrum of some emotion you couldn’t identify laced through his words. “It was nice to see an old friend,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze before he pulled his away.

It wasn’t until Steve straightened up to his full height that you realized he’d been leaning over the counter, and your faces had been very close together. Heat crept into your cheeks at the realization that Steve had been in your personal space, and all you’d thought about was his eyes. 

Shoving all the money in your hand into the tip jar, you muttered, “Thanks, Steve.” As you zipped up your wristlet, you noticed that some of your ice cream was in danger of dripping onto your hand.

Without thinking, you licked quickly around the edge of the sugar cone, a soft moan slipping free when the cool sweetness of the ice cream hit your brain.

Steve made a strangled sound that dragged your attention away from your treat, finding your childhood best friend looking away and coughing into his fist, a deeper pink flushing his cheeks. You quirked your eyebrow in confusion when he looked back at you, but his expression gave nothing away and you had to wonder if you’d imagined the noise. It had almost sounded…aroused.

Shaking that thought clear from your mind, you gave Steve a smile and began to step away from the counter so he could help the next customer.

Steve’s eyes lingered on you, and he offered you one last charming, friendly smile, raising his hand in a wave. “Don’t be a stranger, buttercup,” he rumbled, his low words managing to reach your ears over the chatter in the shop. He gave you a long look, emotion swirling in those familiar eyes of his, and your breath caught in your throat.

The intensity of his gaze and the warmth in his parting words hit you straight in the gut, and you stood stunned in front of the register while Steve turned and walked to the other end of the ice cream case to help the next people in line. 

For a long moment, you couldn’t get over the way Steve had been able to read your mind, to pluck the thought that you were strangers to each other out of your brain and then tell you he didn’t want that to be the case. Your mind raced with questions. Did he still think of you as friends? Did he remember the promise you’d made all those years ago to always be friends? How did he know the exact right thing to say? 

But then the rational side of your brain resurfaced from wherever your heart had momentarily buried it, and you remembered his farewell was a normal thing for people to say to each other. Especially people who hadn’t seen each other in a while and likely would again because they both lived in a very small town. That’s all it was, just a normal goodbye. 

Not Steve Rogers somehow reading your mind because he knew you so well. 

With those rationalities ringing in your head, you dashed out of Seaside Scoops and it wasn’t until your feet had carried you to the next block that you remembered your broken shoes and stubbed toe and chafed thighs. 

But those problems didn’t seem quite so bad anymore. Not with the delicious ice cream cone in your hand, and the sunset casting Brambleberry Cove in gorgeous, golden light—and especially not with Steve’s warm, honeyed voice ringing in your head, calling you buttercup. 

It had felt so normal to hear the nickname roll off Steve’s tongue that you hadn’t even thought about it, hadn’t realized how long it had been since you’d last heard it. But, just as it had when you were younger, it filled your chest with a bright, golden warmth. You grinned to yourself as you strolled back to your little bungalow, licking up the melting ice cream as fast as you could.

Your mood was decidedly better, and you enjoyed the walk home, refusing to think too much about why exactly you felt lighter and happier and less miserable about being home in Brambleberry Cove than you had before going to Seaside Scoops. It was just the ice cream, obviously. There was no other reason.

“You’re staring.” Steve’s voice was low, the undercurrent of laughter in it almost mixing with the sounds of the distant waves. You could hear them through the open windows of his truck as he eased the vehicle down the winding road leading away from the docks on the north side of Brambleberry Cove. 

His comment dragged you out of your drunken haze, and you took a deep breath to get your bearings. Your lungs filled with the salty nighttime air of the sea and the earthy leather interior of your childhood best friend’s truck, a small smile curling the corners of your lips and your eyes sliding closed. When you forced them back open, you realized he was right.

Huh, you really were staring at Steve. 

Your head was swiveled to the side, your cheek pressed to the brown leather of the seat back, your eyes fixed on the profile of his face that was highlighted in the glossy silver of the moon and warmed by the golden light of the town’s street lamps. 

You couldn’t find it in yourself to feel embarrassed or ashamed for staring at Steve, though. And it was at that moment you realized you were drunk. 

It didn’t surprise you. After all, you were the one who’d thrown on some jean shorts and a cute top and then took yourself to Shanty’s, the only place in Brambleberry Cove to go if you were a local looking to avoid tourists. 

You’d been happy to see Bucky Barnes, your other oldest friend after Steve, manning the bar. But you’d been much less happy with him when he’d insisted on calling Steve to take you home after you’d downed more than your fair share of liquor. 

It was probably for the best, though. You were drunk and horny and if you weren’t careful, you would’ve gone home with Brock Rumlow. Just thinking about it made you grimace at yourself and your poor almost-decisions. 

Focusing back on Steve, you couldn’t fault Bucky too much for calling your old friend to pick you up—not when it had ended with you able to watch his side profile while he kept his eyes on the road. It felt practically shameful to indulge yourself so much. That is, if you’d had any shame left, but you’d drowned it all in alcohol.

“You’re still staring, buttercup,” Steve rumbled, the humor clearer in his tone. The edges of his mouth were flickering beneath the silvery golden light of Brambleberry Cove at night and you knew he was trying to suppress a smile. It was fascinating to watch, but then Steve rubbed his hand across his mouth, scrubbing through his beard, and it broke you free of your drunken trance.

“I just can’t get over how different you look,” you huffed, raising your arms and flopping them back against the seat in your best approximation of a shrug. “And how exactly the same.” 

Steve barked a laugh, the sharp sound bringing a smile instantly to your face. You’d never heard him laugh like that, and you couldn’t help but love that you were still discovering new things about him, even after knowing him all your life. 

He glanced over at you, his expression bemused like he was sure you were drunker than he’d thought. You probably were, but that didn’t stop you from being right, and you tried to convey that in the brief moment he looked at you. 

Steve’s gaze slid quickly down your body, not like he was checking you out—more like he was checking to make sure your seatbelt was still buckled and you weren’t in danger of doing anything ridiculous. You were only in danger of saying ridiculous things, at least, according to him apparently. He shook his head after he’d turned back to watching the road.

“You’re gonna have to explain that one to me, buttercup,” Steve said, a little bit of gruffness in his tone. He cleared his throat before he went on. “Usually when someone we went to high school with comes back, they tell me they never woulda recognized me.” 

You gave an unladylike snort, drawing another surprised laugh out of Steve before he bit off the sound to let you speak.

“Well those people should have their eyes checked,” you muttered scornfully, pushing yourself up from where you’d been slumped against the warm leather seat. You twisted your body in your seat so you were facing Steve, your eyes tracing the lines of his face from across the cab. “You still have the same eyes,” you pointed out vehemently, as if Steve was arguing with you, even though he wasn’t. “And your nose still has that little bump in it, and your lips are still so soft and full…”

You trailed off, realizing far too late that you were saying your inside thoughts out loud. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you watched Steve as he processed what you’d said—the way his fingers scratched a little nervously at his beard, those twin lines forming between his brows. Your gazed traced every curve and line and divot in his face, examining his expression, wanting to memorize it and save it for the rest of your life. 

“I don’t think any of those people noticed those things,” Steve murmured, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it over the slight breeze drifting through the windows while he drove through town. 

Your heart lurched at the implication of Steve’s words, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take them back, even if they were dangerously close to revealing something you hadn’t even had the courage to admit to yourself yet. 

Instead, you focused on your anger at the hypothetical people who weren’t recognizing Steve just because he’d grown up, gotten tall, gotten buff, grown out his hair and his beard and looked altogether very different to the skinny teenager he’d been.

“If they didn’t see those things, they didn’t really see you,” you muttered to yourself, indignant on Steve’s behalf, but trying to keep it to yourself. Apparently, you weren’t good at moderating the volume of your voice, because Steve snorted at your remark. 

“No, no one ever saw me as well as you did, buttercup,” Steve said, his voice low and warm, and your heart promptly rioted in your chest. 

There was something so dizzyingly wonderful about hearing Steve say such intimate words to you in that deep, caramel voice of his, genuine affection shining through his tone. It took your breath away for a moment, and your brain short-circuited. 

It was on the tip of your tongue to tell him…something. The thing you hadn’t admitted to yourself yet. But you were still you, and your brain tripped at the last moment, and instead you blurted, “Do you ever think about our first time?”

Steve choked on a snort, his eyes darting to you with honest surprise. You couldn’t blame him. You’d had no idea those words were gonna spill from your mouth until they were out, but you supposed they weren’t as bad as what you’d almost confessed, so you didn’t try to take them back or change the topic of conversation. You waited with bated breath for Steve’s response, and whether he remembered your night together when you were both 18.

When he saw you were anticipating his answer, he spluttered, “You mean when I came three seconds after getting inside you?” 

You began to smile, because he remembered, but then Steve continued talking.

“Y’know, I told Bucky about that once,” he said, his eyes fixed so fully on the road that you got the impression he didn’t want to meet your gaze and your stomach plummeted. “I was drunk, and didn’t know if it really counted as sex. Bucky was no help, of course—he said he didn’t know either since it was so quick.” 

Something new was swirling in your gut, and for long moments you could only sit there on the warm leather of the truck and stew in that hot, feral feeling. It must’ve showed on your face because, when Steve finally looked over at you after you’d been quiet for so long, the truck lurched forward, his foot pressing too hard to the gas.

“Don’t worry,” he rushed to say, guessing at what was upsetting you and guessing wrong. “I didn’t tell him it was with you.”

“Don’t you dare,” you snarled, the words bursting out of you with a ferocity you’d never used in your life, let alone when talking to Steve. But you were furious all of a sudden, and it wasn’t until the words were spilling from your mouth that you understood why you were so angry. “Don’t you dare try to take this away from me, Steven Grant Rogers.” Your voice was seething and barely recognizable, but you couldn’t stop. “You were my first, and it was perfect—because it was you.” 

Steve glanced over at you, something like shock written across his face, but when he looked back at the road, his brows settled low over his eyes. The muscle in his jaw popped and you knew he was grinding his teeth together, taking his time to gather his thoughts before he spoke. It took him a long moment to respond.

“You deserved better.”

The noise of your scoff was loud, even to your ears, and you strained against the seatbelt still buckling you into the passenger seat as you leaned toward your childhood friend.

“You ate me out until I came three times, Steve!” you cried, holding up three fingers as if the adult man your friend had grown into somehow didn’t know how many three was. “No man has ever made me come so many times in one night as you did then.” 

When Steve still didn’t look at you, just kept driving with his hands gripping the wheel and the muscle in his jaw popping, you huffed an exasperated sound and flopped back into your seat. Your back was to the leather as you crossed your arms over your chest and stared out at Brambleberry Cove through the open passenger side window. 

The silence grew until it was suffocating, and you needed to break it. So you said the first thing that came to mind. Again.

“You’re who I think about when I touch myself, Steve.” Your words drifted from your side of the truck to the other, carried on the light breeze floating through the cab. “I think about you and that night, and it gets me off every single time.”

Steve made a strangled kind of sound, like a growl that was torn free from his throat against his will. Then he was quiet, and he was quiet for so long, you thought that was the only reaction you’d get to admitting the truth. Until…

“I think about you, too, buttercup.”

The confession hung in the air between you, settling heavily onto the leather bench seat in Steve’s truck, the air rushing in through the open windows buffetting around it. 

You didn’t feel Steve’s admission sink into you. There was simply a before and an after. And in the after, you were moving. You were unbuckling your seatbelt and scooting across the seat toward Steve until your bare knee brushed against the denim of his jeans. 

He shot a startled look in your direction—which, in a distant part of your brain, you registered as completely adorable—before quickly pulling over to the side of the road. He was just throwing the truck into park when you slid into his lap, straddling his thighs and pressing your chest to his. 

“We should do it again,” you purred, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and leaning close. When Steve didn’t respond right away, just kept giving you that surprised look, you thought he might not have understood you, so you explained, “Have sex.”

Steve closed his eyes and a light tremor shuddered through his body as his hands settled respectfully on your waist, a few of his fingers brushing the skin where the edge of your tank top didn’t quite meet the waist of your shorts. Then, it was your turn to shudder, the feeling of his warm, calloused hands against your bare skin making heat flood between your thighs, your core warming and your body melting into your old friend’s hands.

“Please, Steve,” you whispered, tipping your head forward until your lips were a hairsbreadth from his, so close you could taste mint chocolate chip ice cream on his tongue and it took everything in you not to lick into his mouth desperately. Your voice was practically a whine as you went on, “Let’s see if we can do better this time.” 

Steve’s hands shifted to your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh hard enough to almost hurt, and you thought he was going to give in. But then he swallowed audibly, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and he pushed you gently away, his head tilting back against the leather seat so your lips no longer teased him with an almost-kiss.

“You’re drunk, buttercup.”

Steve’s voice was a delicious rasp, and you couldn’t help but shiver at the sound of it even as the meaning of his words settled into your drunken mind. You pouted at your childhood friend, hoping the fact that he hadn’t pushed you off his lap entirely meant he wasn’t saying no.

“And horny,” you said, the words slipping from your lips on another whine. Of their own volition, your hips squirmed on your oldest friend’s lap, trying to get closer, trying to find some kind of friction to work against the aching heat pulsing between your thighs. But Steve’s firm grip held you in place. “Stevie.” His name was nothing but a pathetic whimper. 

A low growl rumbled in Steve’s chest, and then one of his hands was abandoning your hip to cup your face, tilting it up so he could loom over you. The lines of his face were hard, stubborn, and the look in his eyes left no room for argument. 

“You know I won’t touch you when you’re drunk,” he bit out, his voice soft, but as firm as his hold on your body.

A memory slammed into you—you and Steve planning your first time together. You’d made a deal at the start of high school that if neither of you lost your virginity through all four years, then before going off to college, you’d lose it together. 

When the time came, you’d been a little nervous, even though it was Steve, and you’d joked that you could take some wine coolers to the beach and get it over with, just like all the other kids in your school. Even then, Steve had looked at you stubbornly, and said, without a shred of willingness to waver, that he wouldn’t touch you if you were drunk.

Back then, it had sent a shiver down your spine, and it had much the same effect more than a decade later in his truck. Your body trembled with arousal, and you pushed feebly against Steve’s hold—not really trying to break it, just enjoying the feeling that came from realizing how strong he was. Those biceps and corded forearms of his weren’t just for show.

“What about just the tip?” you murmured, the words tumbling past your lips before you could think better of them, knowing there was no use trying to argue with Steve when he’d made a decision. But you were clearly thinking with something other than your brain, because the words kept coming. “That’s not sex, just the tip—please, Steve.” You were begging shamelessly, but your shame and embarrassment were still nowhere to be found since you were still definitely drunk.

Steve’s jaw ticked so hard, you could’ve sworn you heard the muscle pop in the quiet of his truck as he ground his teeth together. 

“Buttercup,” he growled, a warning in his tone. “That’s not happening.”

Your fists gathered in the front of Steve’s t-shirt and you yanked on it restlessly, not trying to do anything more than annoy him. “Whyyy,” you whined, drawing out the word until it was nearly a wail. Unslaked heat burned in your blood and, while you knew why he was refusing to have sex with you, in the moment, you couldn’t understand why your oldest friend was torturing you.

Steve’s hand slid down from your cheek to wrap around the front of your throat, and you stilled immediately, something about the possessive, dominant gesture making you calm. That was new, Steve hadn’t done anything like that when you’d first been together, but you liked it more than you would’ve expected. Your lips were still parted, your panting breaths gusting out of them, your heart racing, and you were finally calm and quiet.

Your oldest friend’s eyes roamed over you, taking in your reaction. At first he seemed surprised, but then a glint of something you’d never seen before sparked to life in the depths of his blue eyes. You watched his gaze drop to your mouth, and nearly whimpered at the way the corner of his lips flickered in the ghost of a smirk. But then he fixed his gaze back on yours, pinning you in place with that stubborn look in his eye, though it was slightly dimmed in favor of that new, hungry glimmer. 

“I won’t fuck you only to wake up tomorrow and find out you regret it,” Steve said, enunciating all his words clearly despite the fact that his teeth were grinding together “That you only wanted it because you needed to scratch an itch.” 

Your lungs dragged in a soundless gasp and you finally understood his reticence, even if you couldn’t imagine ever regretting doing anything with Steve. But when you opened your mouth to protest, Steve’s fingers squeezed the sides of your throat. 

Your words died on your tongue, and your mouth went slack, your eyes going hazy with pleasure. You couldn’t have been more obvious that you liked the way Steve choked you if you tried. And he read your enjoyment easily from the expression on your face, that look of hunger sparking brighter in Steve’s eyes before he went on.

“When I fuck you again,” he growled, his words a promise. “I don’t want you drunk on anything but my cock.”

“Stevie,” you whined his nickname again, the name only you were allowed to call him, your lips forming into a pout. It hadn’t escaped your notice that he’d said ‘when’, and not ‘if’, about having sex with you again, but you didn’t want to push your luck. And besides, unslaked need was still burning brightly through your body, consuming most of your focus. “I need…something, please.” You let out a little whimper and squirmed in his lap again, unable to stop yourself.

Steve huffed a laugh, his thumb stroking down the side of your neck, over your thrumming pulsepoint, while the fingers of his other hand slipped half an inch into the waist of your shorts, only far enough to dig harder into your soft curves.  

“I’m not going to touch you more than this, buttercup,” Steve began, his voice a low, delicious rumble that you swore you could feel in the clenching of your core. “But I didn’t say anything about stopping you from touching yourself.”

Your eyes widened in excitement, and you wasted no time in acting on the implication in Steve’s words. Holding his gaze, one of your hands slipped free from his shirt and trailed down your body. When you reached between your thighs, the backs of your fingers brushed against a thick bulge in the front of Steve’s jeans. 

It twitched against your soft touch, and you gasped in delight, loving the proof that Steve’s body recognized you just as much as his mind.

But when you twisted your hand, intent on giving Steve’s bulge a friendly squeeze, his hand darted down from your hips to your wrist, his fingers circling around you and stilling your hand. “Buttercup,” he rumbled, another warning. 

A shiver raced down your spine and you reveled in the way it made you feel to hear Steve say your nickname like that. It occurred to you that it was new—you’d never heard him say it quite like that before, with frustration and arousal flooding his tone. 

You wanted to hear every flavor of your nickname on Steve’s tongue. You wanted to hear him whisper it like a prayer, and groan it into your lips while he kissed you. You wanted to hear Steve shout your nickname while he came with you. 

But the look in Steve’s eyes was stubborn again, and you knew you’d have to wait to hear all the ways he could say your nickname. 

“OK, Steve, ‘m sorry,” you mumbled, twisting your hand in his hold and pressing the tips of your fingers to the seam of your shorts, your hips jerking forward to seek more of the friction you offered yourself. 

Steve’s hold loosened, but he didn’t let go of you entirely, like he didn’t trust you just yet. But you didn’t care, your fingers were pressing into your clit through the thin denim of your shorts, and you were rocking your hips to grind against them, your wetness soaking through your panties almost immediately.

The moment when your fingers found just the right spot, you sucked in a sharp breath, your spine arching and your hips pressing down hard against your hand. Your head tipped back, your eyes narrowing into slits as you held Steve’s gaze. You moaned while you rubbed tight circles against your clit through your shorts.

“I’m going to come embarrassingly fast,” you huffed in warning, your chest heaving already with labored breaths. 

But Steve only smirked, a touch of smugness in the curve of his lips.

“Don’t worry, buttercup, I remember exactly how sensitive your sweet little clit is,” he rumbled, and you moaned loudly. His fingers flexed against your throat, digging in enough to quiet your sounds and making your eyes widen as your hips lurched in their rhythm. He chuckled at your reaction before continuing on.

“I remember sucking on your puffy little pearl, your thighs squeezing my head, my fingers buried deep in your tight, warm hole,” Steve purred, seemingly knowing exactly what to say to drive your pleasure higher. “I remember the exact way your pussy gripped my fingers when you came, like you wanted me deeper—deep enough that you could feel me in your belly.” 

“God, Steve,” you groaned, your head falling back listlessly on your shoulders, too heavy to keep it up. But Steve’s fingers dug into the back of your neck, and you understood the wordless command immediately. You lifted your head and caught your oldest friend’s eye while you kept rubbing your clit, pushing yourself closer to coming apart in his lap. 

“I remember how big your cock felt inside me,” you confessed, spurred on by Steve’s own filthy words. “I remember how long it took for you to sink your thick, fat cock into my tight pussy.” You paused only to take a quick, hitching breath. “I was already so close when you came, and I remember, I thought, maybe if you hadn’t been wearing a condom, maybe I would’ve come, too.” 

The lines of Steve’s face shifted, hardening, his jaw ticking wildly and his eyes going molten fierce, like the blue at the center a campfire that burns too hot to sit near. 

“Don’t fucking say that, buttercup,” Steve growled, his voice gravelly like he was chewing on seashells. “If I hadn’t been wearing a condom, I would’ve come so much faster—I never woulda made it all the way inside you. Woulda been coming with just my tip inside your warm, wet pussy, baby—woulda been too risky, buttercup.” 

Your eyes wanted to fall closed as you moaned, but you didn’t let them. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from Steve, not with that furious and ferocious hunger in his eyes, his desire for you etched into every single line and curve of his face. 

You were so close. You just needed a little more to push you over the edge.

“Fuck, Steve, I know I shouldn’t, but I love the thought of you coming inside me, filling me up, making me yours,” you confessed, the words bubbling up from the very depths of your soul. It was on the tip of your tongue again, that thing you hadn’t admitted to yourself. Instead of letting it free, you moaned, long and loud, your fingers rubbing faster against your clit and your hips grinding against your hand. 

“Christ, baby,” Steve gritted through tightly clenched teeth. His fingers were digging into your hip again, diving further beneath the waist of your shorts, nearly skimming the edge of your panties. His other hand tightened around your throat and dragged you into him, until your face was right in front of his and he could watch every twitch and change in your expression as you pleasured yourself. 

“Come on, baby,” he said, his voice urgent with need. “Come before I do something we’ll both regret.” 

The hand that wasn’t wedged between your thighs pressed to the center of Steve’s chest, just above his heart, and a moment later, you felt his warm palm cover it. He was still holding your throat, his fingers digging into the sides hard enough that you knew he could feel your fluttering pulse beneath his touch. And you could feel his heart pounding beneath your palm, the rapid pace nearly matching the frantic one in your chest.

“Come, buttercup, come for me,” Steve commanded, his eyes holding yours. For a moment, it felt like he could see straight into your soul. It was a scorching intimacy you hadn’t felt since that night you’d first been with Steve, and you were helpless to it.

“Stevie,” you cried his name as your pleasure rose up and consumed you, sending you over the edge into a earth-quaking orgasm. Your body writhed in Steve’s lap, your hips grinding gracelessly against your hand as you collapsed forward, leaning into the grip of his hand around your throat. You sobbed your pleasure, the waves of your release wracking your body for long moments.

Eventually, the final swell ebbed and the last of your energy receded with it. Your damp forehead fell against Steve’s cool, dry one and you struggled to catch your breath. His hand slipped from the front of your throat around to the back of your neck and he smoothed it down your spine. 

He held you close, whispering in your ear, “Such a good girl, buttercup, you did so good.”

Once you finally settled, Steve shifted, his beard grazing your lips as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

“Can I take you home now?” he asked.

You huffed a laugh and slumped against his chest, laying your head sleepily on his shoulder. “I don’t think I can move yet,” you said, slurring your words with tiredness. And drunkenness.

Steve chuckled, but made no attempt to move you. You only felt him lifting his arms around you, though his hands didn’t settle on your body. 

“If you see Sam while you’re back in town, don’t tell him I did this,” Steve murmured in your ear. Then you felt the truck rumbling to life and getting back onto the road and you realized where your oldest friend’s hands were. He was driving you home, with you still sitting boneless in his lap.

When Steve arrived at your rental house, not too long after, he helped you down from his truck and looped an arm around your waist, getting you into the bungalow. Thankfully, you were sated from your release in his truck so you didn’t try to proposition him again, just dutifully did as he said, changing into your pajamas in your bedroom while he waited outside the closed door. 

Then he let you lean against his broad chest while you brushed your teeth and washed your face, before guiding you back to your room and tucking you into bed. Last, he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead that was so comforting, and made you feel so safe, your eyes fluttered closed and a soft smile curled your lips.

Before he could leave, your hand darted out and grabbed Steve’s wrist with surprising precision given your state and the fact that your eyes were closed. You dragged them open again, blinking away the bleariness until your childhood friend’s face came into focus. 

“I don’t regret anything we’ve done together, Stevie,” you mumbled, the side of your mouth hitching up in a lopsided smile. “I’m glad you were my first.” You lost the battle with your eyes and they fell closed. You also, apparently, lost the fight against biting back your feelings, murmuring sleepily, “I want you to be my last.”  

For a long moment, Steve was quiet. He seemed to wait until you were just on the edge of sleep before responding to your drunken confession. 

“Tell me that again when you’re not drunk, and I’ll believe you, buttercup,” Steve murmured, ducking down to press a kiss to your hand, still wrapped loosely around his wrist, before carefully extricating himself. 

You were snoring before Steve closed and locked the front door of your bungalow behind him. He walked down the short path to his truck, which sat at the curb, a subtle smile on his lips and a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

[kittykatstiles]

saw this pic on ig and people were like “sterek?” “this is sterek” like 10 years later the sterek impact is still going strong it’s crazy

[zumicho]

stamped

© zumicho all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my works on any platform.

SYNOPSIS : your brother’s best friend is a travelling volleyball sensation. he sends him letters from every country he visits, & you could care less. till.. he starts addressing them to you.

PAIRING ; oikawa tooru x reader SMAU 📼

TAGS / CWS : none of the art is mine unless stated, language, sexual & kys jokes, suggestive, borderline angsty, childhood enemies to lovers *wink wink*

completed 𖦹°⋆ TAGLIST closed

♥︎ .ᐟ.ᐟ FILM BRO POSERS + IWA ; SIDE HOES

────────────────────────

mailbox boy — where it all started

01 . 02 . 03 . 04 . ✎ 05 . 06 . 07 . 08 .

signed sealed delivered — the end of it all

the letters : bonus

────────────────────────

author’s note: it’s over! sad to say this is probably the most poorly executed work on my account — but I’m keeping it up for the sake of those who hold it dear to their heart <3 thank you for reading

@wyrcan @guitarstringed-scars @mimi3lover @itsdragonius @vivian-555 @blueberrygeniejam @cryptictheseus @azharyy @yuminako @iluvmang @aliensstolemyheart @ilyless @tojirin @mylahrins @gra-eae @reads-stuff-quietly @neeksnicoboytoy @elliott0o0 @nnnyxie @chizunata @girlkissersco @kiyoomis-side @scxrcherr @causenessus @eggyrocks @phoenix-eclipses @walllflowerrrsss @gsyche @acowboykisser @swag-only @serossidechick @le000xxgrd @eclecticeggknightpsychic @garfieldissocool @dazqa @venusianeros @youmake1mistake @thechaosoflonging @r0seandth0rns @empress-pug-pug @iad0ru @hyenagoated @chemiru

[strrykais]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ love (untold)

as complete total opposites you and hyunjin have been friends for as long as you both can remember. he has always been by your side whenever you called, he just wishes you would call to tell him you love him.

pairing: nerd!hyunjin x fem!reader

genres: social media au (smau), written, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, unrequited love, senior year (college), jealous bff (both ways) more to be added

extra: they have been friends for 14 years, hyunjin fell first and harder, hyunjin super geek, yn very popular, both are very touchy to each other, yn terrible taste in guys..

playlist: you are in love - taylor swift | fallingforyou - the 1975 | the only exception- paramore | sweet - cigarettes after sex | sorry, i love you - stray kids | love untold-hyunjin | miss you - hyunjin | there - stray kids |

authors note: hey… THIS WILL BE A SHORT ONE (i hope)

status: finished

taglist: closed

1- shit bag to go

2- what moms are hot??

3- cliterferencing right now

4- enemies to lovers trope

5- teach me how to kiss

6- you fucked hyunjin??

7- i want him inside me

8- live tweeting before sex

- extras

hyunjins first time

[luvismenu]

pause or play — jeon jungkook ,, series (on-going)

m.list ,, navi ,, send me an ask to be in the series taglist !!

pairing: younger, whipped, pathetic, streamer!jungkook x older, responsible, oblivious, developer!oc

summary: jungkook is a popular twitch streamer; someone you help with tech as part of your job as a twitch dev. but he’s also your best friend. and you’ve always been the one to take care of him, from fixing his streaming issues to helping him through anything he needs. you don't mind, of course. but what you don’t realize is that jungkook doesn’t want to be just the little kid you grew up with anymore. he wants you to see him as something more.. he wants you to see him as a man.

genre:

smau + written

fluff + crack

childhood bsfs

warnings: streaming/gaming talks, tech/dev talks but it's silly, lots of (sexual) tension, implied + actual smut (eventual), slow burn-ish, oc is so cutie and sooo mother, jk is literally babygirl.

started: 7 jan 2025 ended: ..

index:

intro #00

stream #01 — picky

stream #02 — boxing

stream #03 — mario

stream #04 — underwater

stream #05 — thirst trap

stream #06 — espresso

stream #07 —

stream #08 —

stream #09 —

stream #10 —

? ? ?

© 2025 luvi. All rights reserved.

[myonexox]

THE LITTLE THINGS THAT MATTER

pairing : childhood best friend!sunghoon x female!reader

genre : romance, fluff, slow burn, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, childhood friends au, idiots in love

synopsis : two childhood best friends, you and sunghoon, who secretly like each other but are too afraid to confess. as you spend time together, you start to notice the little things, the small gestures that show how much you truly care for each other. in the end, you both realize that love isn’t just about big moments but the little things that matter most

word count : 4.7k

now playing : xo (only if you say yes) by enhypen (i was listening to this song the whole time while writing. it has that whole falling in love vibe, you know? and the lyrics kinda remind me of sunghoon. the way the song tells a story about a boy who’s willing to do anything for the person he loves, it’s literally him. so yeah, i highly recommend listening to it as you read)

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

you had been in love with your childhood best friend, sunghoon, for years. you didn’t know when exactly the feeling had settled into your heart. maybe it had always been there, waiting for you to acknowledge it. but you remembered everything about how your story with him began.

it started when you were five years old. the neighborhood park was your favorite place and it was where you met him for the first time. you were trying to reach for a butterfly, standing on your tiptoes on the playground slide when you lost your balance and nearly tumbled down. just before you could fall, a small hand caught yours. it was him. a boy with curious eyes looking at you with concern.

“are you okay?” he had asked, tilting his head.

you nodded, embarrassed. “i was trying to catch the butterfly”

he looked up at the sky where the butterfly had already flown away then back at you. “i can help next time”

that was the beginning.

from that day on, you and sunghoon were inseparable. your mothers were friends which meant playdates, matching outfits and meals together. he became the boy who always waited for you outside your house and who walked beside you every time you went to the park.

every day was an adventure. you would race each other down the street, only for him to slow down at the last second and let you win. you built sandcastles at the park even though they always collapsed because neither of you knew how to make them strong. you picked dandelions together and made wishes.

and he was always there for you. when you scraped your knee, he was the one who rushed to find a bandaid. when the neighborhood kids refused to let you play in their pretend castle, he declared that he would build a bigger one just for you. and he did, using pillows and blankets in your living room. when you got sick, he would draw silly doodles on get-well cards, slipping them under your door so you wouldn’t feel lonely.

as you both grew older, your adventures changed but your bond didn’t. elementary school was all about trading lunch, sitting next to each other in class and sharing little secrets. you helped him with his homework when he got stuck and he shielded you from the teacher’s scolding when you forgot yours. during school field trips, he always saved you a seat next to him and whenever you had to partner up for assignments, you didn’t even need to ask, it was just a given that you and sunghoon were a team. even during recess, while other kids formed new friendships, you and sunghoon remained a pair, always finding your way back to each other.

middle school came and with it, the awkward years. he hit his growth spurt earlier than you, towering over you one day when just the week before, you had been the same height. his voice started to change, deepening slightly and you couldn’t ignore how other girls started to notice him. you told yourself it didn’t matter. you were his best friend and that was all there was to it.

but then came the small moments that made your heart stutter. like when he slung his arm around your shoulder so casually. like when he leaned down just to meet your eyes. like when he always seemed to notice the tiniest details about you. when you were sad, when you were tired, when you needed someone to cheer you up. he always knew. he always listened.

you should have known then. but you didn’t, not yet.

it wasn’t until high school that realization truly hit you. the first time you saw him in his uniform, looking taller and more mature, your heart did something weird in your chest. you tried to ignore it. you told yourself it was just because you weren’t used to seeing him like that.

but then there was the way he treated you, different but not in a bad way. he had always been protective of you but in high school, it became more obvious. if someone made you uncomfortable, he was there in an instant, his presence alone enough to make them back off. if you were carrying something heavy, he took it from you without a word. and when you got sick, he showed up at your house with medicine and your favorite snacks.

then there were the times when he looked at you, like really looked at you. like the time you got dressed up for a school event and when you stepped out, his breath hitched just slightly before he smiled at you. like the time you fell asleep on the bus during a school trip and he let you rest your head on his shoulder, not moving an inch the entire ride. like the time he whispered your name, just your name but it made your heart feel so full you thought it might burst.

it was a million little things.

you realized it when he defended you from a senior who spoke to you rudely. you realized it when he remembered things about you that even you had forgotten. and you realized it when he ran to your house in the rain because he knew you were upset and needed someone and that someone was always him.

and one day, you couldn’t deny it anymore. you were in love with sunghoon. you were in love with your childhood best friend.

but you never told him. because what if he didn’t feel the same? what if you ruined everything? he was your best friend, the person who had been with you through every moment of your life. if you confessed and he didn’t like you back, would things change? would he start avoiding you? would you lose him completely?

so you decided to stay quiet. you told yourself it was better this way. you would rather love him in silence than risk losing him forever.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

saturday arrived and as planned, you made your way to sunghoon’s house for your study session. it was something you both had promised to do earlier in the week, knowing that your math test was coming up on wednesday. sunghoon had never been the biggest fan of studying but with enough convincing, you managed to get him to agree. you rang the doorbell and waited for a few moments before the door swung open, revealing him in a casual hoodie and sweatpants, his hair slightly messy as if he had just woken up from a nap.

“you’re here” he said with a grin, stepping aside to let you in.

“of course i am. you think i’d let you slack off before our test?” you teased, slipping off your shoes at the entrance.

he let out a dramatic sigh. “i was hoping you’d forget”

you chuckled. “you wish”

his parents weren’t home. they had gone out for the day to visit some relatives in another city. it wasn’t the first time you had been over when they weren’t around and you were comfortable enough in their home that it didn’t feel awkward in the slightest. you followed him upstairs to his room. his desk was already set up with textbooks, notebooks and a couple of pens.

for the next few hours, the two of you went over equations, formulas and problem-solving techniques. sunghoon, true to his nature, grumbled every now and then but he still managed to focus for the most part. you explained concepts to him whenever he got stuck, watching as his eyebrows knitted together in concentration. every so often, he would lean back in his chair, stretching his arms with an exaggerated groan before throwing you a look that practically screamed ‘i’m suffering.’

eventually, after what felt like an eternity, he slumped forward onto his desk, groaning loudly. “ugh, i can’t take it anymore. my brain is officially fried”

you looked up from your notes, smiling slightly. “come on, we’ve only been studying for—” you glanced at the clock. “okay, maybe we have been at it for a while. i didn't notice it”

“exactly” he muttered, lifting his head slightly to look at you. “we need a break. if we keep going, my brain is going to melt and i’m going to blame you for it”

you laughed. “alright, fine. you have a point. we can’t afford to burn out before the actual test, right?”

he immediately perked up. “great! let’s go downstairs and watch a movie or something”

you didn’t object. honestly, you could use the break too. packing away your books, you followed him out of his room and down the stairs. as you stepped into the living room, he gestured toward the couch. “you pick the movie first. i’ll go grab some snacks for us”

that was another thing about him. he never picked the movie. not even once. you had asked him before why he always made you choose and he said, “i like everything you like.” at the time, you hadn’t thought much of it but now, it made your heart flutter whenever you remembered it.

settling onto the couch, you scrolled through the movie options, your choice already obvious. horror was your favorite genre and sunghoon, despite his complaints that you always picked scary movies, never objected. he always watched them with you even when he claimed he didn’t like them. smiling to yourself, you selected a horror film and waited for him to return.

a few minutes later, he came back with his arms full of chips, popcorn, candy and a couple of soda cans. he dumped them onto the coffee table before flopping onto the couch beside you. “you picked horror, didn’t you?”

you smiled, raising an eyebrow. “how do you know?”

he let out an exaggerated sigh but grabbed a handful of popcorn anyway. “of course i know. but if i get nightmares, you’re responsible”

“you never get nightmares”

“you don’t know that”

laughing, you pressed play and the movie began. the two of you settled in, munching on snacks as eerie music filled the room. as the movie progressed, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him every now and then.

by the time the credits rolled, the sky outside had started to darken. you sighed, stretching your arms as you realized how much time had passed. “i should probably head home before it gets too late”

he nodded, still watching the screen as the last of the credits played. you reached into your pocket for your phone, intending to check the time but your hand came up empty. frowning, you patted your other pocket. still nothing.

“hey, did you see my phone?” you asked, glancing at sunghoon.

he turned to you, eyebrows furrowed. “hm?”

“my phone. did you see it?” you repeated.

“wasn’t it with you?”

you shook your head. “i thought so but it’s not in my pocket”

the two of you began searching around the couch, pushing aside pillows and shifting through the pile of snacks but your phone was nowhere to be found.

“maybe you left it upstairs when we were studying?” he suggested, already moving to stand up. “wait here, let me get it for you”

you waved him off. “it’s okay i’ll get it myself”

“okay” he said.

you made your way back upstairs to his room. sure enough, your phone was sitting right on his bed, exactly where you must have left it earlier. picking it up, you checked the time. 6 pm. definitely time to head home.

but when you were about to walk out, your eyes caught something unusual. a unique notebook lay next to sunghoon’s pillow, one you had never seen before. it was different from his school notebooks, the ones he used for studying. this one had a leather cover, slightly worn at the edges as if it had been used frequently. your curiosity spiked instantly.

you hesitated, looking toward the door to make sure sunghoon wasn’t there. taking a deep breath, you slowly climbed onto his bed and reached for the notebook, settling on the edge of the bed as you held the book in your hands.

you knew this was wrong. you knew you shouldn’t take it or open it. even though he was your best friend, you still had no right to read his diary. it was his personal stuff and you should have respected his privacy. but you were curious. it killed you and you just knew that you would never stop thinking about it once you got home if you didn’t at least take a peek.

you sighed, running your fingers over the cover before hesitantly opening the book.

“i’m sorry sunghoon” you whispered to yourself.

your mind told you to be sane, to close it and walk out but your heart screamed at you to open it and read. and since you were an F in your mbti, you tended to follow your feelings more. so you decided to choose your heart.

it would be fine. right? you were only going to read one or two pages and then stop. you promised yourself. then you opened it.

the first page was written with a title “things i love about her”

you frowned. who was ‘her’? did he like someone? at school? how come he never told you anything? your mind raced with a million thoughts. but you pushed them aside and turned to the next page.

the second page was titled “my best friend”

you froze. your eyes widened. about... you? wait. why would he even write anything about you? and you were his only best friend. or… did he has another best friend?

you flipped to the next page, eyes scanning the date written at the top. it was from your first year of high school. you and sunghoon were seniors now.

page after page, you kept flipping even though you told yourself to stop. but the more you read, the more impossible it became to stop.

1 : her kind heart

i remember the day we found that stray cat on the way home. it was raining and she didn’t even hesitate to run under the pouring sky to rescue it. we were completely drenched, our uniform sticking to our skin, our shoes soaked with mud but she didn’t care at all. she held that tiny kitten against her chest like it was the most precious thing in the world.

i told her she was crazy but she just laughed, hugging the kitten even closer.

“sunghoon, it was cold and scared. what was i supposed to do, leave it there?” she had said.

then she kept it for a week before finding a proper home for it. but every single day, she fed it, cared for it, loved it. that’s the kind of person she is. selfless. kind. beautiful.

she doesn't realize it but she makes the world softer and better just by being in it.

i remember the way she cried when she had to give the kitten away. she tried to hide it but i saw, y/n. i saw how much you cared. how much you love even the smallest things.

i wonder if she knows how much i love her for it.

2 : her sense of humor

she laughs at the dumbest jokes. and i mean 'the dumbest'.

one time, i dropped my pen in class and groaned because it rolled under someone’s chair. then she whispered “that pen just wanted to be free”

i gave her a look but she was already laughing. her hands covering her face as she tried (and failed) to muffle the sound. and just like that, i laughed too. because her laughter is infectious. it spreads like wildfire, igniting everyone around her.

she has a way of making things feel lighter even when everything feels heavy.

i could listen to her laugh forever.

3 : her intelligence and determination

i hate studying. she loves it.

she’s always been so determined to do well, always pushing herself to be better. when i get lazy, she drags me back in. when i say i can’t do it, she proves that i can.

“you’re not dumb, sunghoon. you just don’t try”

maybe she’s right. maybe i don’t try enough. but she does. and i admire that more than she knows.

i’ve never told her but i love watching her study. the way her brows furrow in concentration, the way she bites her lip when she’s deep in thought. it’s fascinating.

4 : her smile and laugh

i wish i could record it. just once.

her laughter. her smile. the way her eyes crinkle at the corners, the way her lips curl just before she bursts into giggles.

if i had that recording, i’d listen to it every night before i sleep. because nothing else in the world sounds as beautiful as she does.

5 : the way she talks

she talks a lot.

but i never mind. not even once.

her voice is... so calming. she makes talking easy even when i don’t know what to say. she makes silence feel comfortable. i think that’s rare.

i could listen to her talk everyday, endlessly. she never runs out of things to say and somehow, i never get tired of hearing them. she makes even the simplest stories sound like something worth listening to. i could sit next to her forever, just listening.

6 : her hair

she always complains about her hair.

“my bangs aren’t cooperating today”

“i should’ve tied it up”

but i don’t see what she sees. i see sunlight catching in her strands, the way they sway when she moves, the way she tucks them behind her ear.

i like it. i like her...

7 : her beautiful eyes

i could stare at them forever. not in a creepy way (okay, maybe a little creepy). but they hold so much. i don't know how to explain it. but whenever she looks at me, i can never look away no matter how hard i try.

her eyes... they're just so beautiful.

i don’t think words could ever describe how much i love them. i could get lost in them for hours.

no, her eyes aren’t just beautiful. they’re everything.

8 : her adventurous soul

since we were kids, she’s always been the one to drag me into trouble. climbing trees. exploring abandoned buildings. running through the rain without an umbrella just for the thrill of it.

she hasn’t changed til now. and i like that she hasn’t.

she still pushes me out of my comfort zone, still drags me along to do things i’d probably never consider on my own.

i used to complain about it. about how reckless she was, about how she never thought things through. but i think, deep down, i’ve always liked that about her. i like the way she throws herself into life so fearlessly. i like the way she makes the ordinary feel exciting.

and... i like that she’s never stopped pulling me along with her.

the next pages were filled with even more things. you swallowed hard. this wasn’t just a diary. this was a collection of every little thing he loved about you.

your heart pounded. what was this? why would he write something like this?

you shouldn’t have read it in the first place. but you did. and now, you could never unsee it. you were... confused.

you held onto the notebook, your mind reeling from what you had just read. every small detail about you, things you never even thought he noticed... he had written it all down. the way you laughed, the way you talked, even the way you tucked your hair behind your ear. he noticed everything.

but why?

before you could gather your thoughts, a voice snapped you out of your trance.

“hey, what’s taking you so long?”

you jumped, your eyes widening as you turned around to see sunghoon standing by the door. but then his gaze dropped to the notebook in your hands and his entire body stiffened. his eyes widened in panic before he strode forward in urgency.

“wait, no—”

before you could react, he reached for the book and snatched it away from your hands, gripping it tightly as if his life depended on it.

“why… why do you read this?” his voice came out weak, almost vulnerable, something you had never heard before from him.

but instead of answering, you asked the question that was burning inside you. “why did you write it?”

he sucked in a sharp breath. he was at a loss for words. he wanted to lie, to make up some excuse, to tell you that it was nothing but he knew there was no way he could do it. you had already read part of it. there was no turning back now.

so in a desperate attempt to shift the subject, he repeated “why do you read this? this is my book. you can’t just take and open something that belongs to me. it’s my privacy”

but you ignored his protests, your eyes locking onto his. “tell me! why would you write something like that about me?”

silence.

a deep sigh escaped his lips before he finally muttered “are you stupid or what?”

your brows knitted together in confusion. “what?”

internally, sunghoon was screaming. his heart was hammering inside his chest and his mind was a chaotic mess. how was he supposed to explain this? how was he supposed to tell you everything he had kept hidden for so long?

he never meant for you to find out this way. in fact, he never meant for you to find out at all. but now that you had, he had no choice but to be honest.

he felt like everything had turned upside down, like all the secrets he had tried to hide were suddenly being revealed. the way you looked at him now, confused, searching, waiting for answers made his chest tighten. he had spent so long keeping his feelings under lock and key, convincing himself that it was better this way, that it was safer if you never knew.

because the truth? he had been liking you for a long time. longer than he could even remember.

it started with the little things, the subtle glances he stole when you weren’t looking. you never noticed but his eyes always found you in a crowded room. he watched you. he had always watched you. not in a way that was meant to be creepy or anything but in the way someone admired a piece of art from afar, afraid that getting too close might ruin its beauty.

he noticed every little thing about you and god, he adored it all. most of all, he... loved you. so much.

you never realized how often he went out of his way just to be close to you. how he would adjust his pace to match yours when you walked together. how he always seemed to have your favorite snack on hand, pretending like it was just a coincidence and offered you some or gave them all to you.

how he memorized your coffee order, how he always stayed up late just to help you study and how he would make up excuses just to see you, pretending like he needed help with something when in reality, he just wanted to spend more time with you.

but you never noticed. and maybe that was for the best. because no matter how much he wanted to tell you, he was afraid. just like you, he was afraid that if he told you the truth, it would ruin everything. afraid that if you didn’t feel the same, your friendship would crumble and he would lose you completely. and losing you? that was the one thing he could never bear.

so he kept quiet. he buried his feelings deep, convincing himself that as long as he could stay by your side, that was more than enough. that he could live with the ache in his chest as long as he got to see you smile, as long as he got to hear your voice, as long as he could keep talking to you.

but now, standing here with you looking at him like that, he knew there was no more running away from the truth. it was out in the open now. and there was nothing he could do but finally, finally let his heart speak.

taking a deep breath, he finally spoke. “i’ve been liking you— no, loving you since... i don’t even know when”

your heart stopped.

he looked down at the notebook in his hands, his fingers tightening around it. “at first, i wrote this diary out of boredom. when i didn’t know what to do, i wrote it because you were my best friend. the closest person to me. who else would i write about? i was with you all the time and you were the one i always admired, the one i always looked at so i couldn’t help but write about you”

he let out a bitter chuckle. “but i didn’t realize that all i had been doing wasn’t because you were just my best friend. it was because you were more than that. it took me long enough to understand it too”

he finally looked at you. “but if you don’t like me back, i understand. really, i do. i won’t force you to feel the same way. i just... i just needed to say it because i couldn’t keep it in anymore” he paused then continued “if you don’t feel the same way, we can just forget this ever happened. i don’t want to lose you so we can just pretend i never said anything and—”

“sunghoon” you cut him off. you took a deep breath, your own emotions bubbling to the surface. “i like you too”

his eyes widened in shock. “what?”

“i like you too sunghoon. no, scratch that. i love you... too”

he stared at you, utterly speechless.

“i don’t even know when it started...” you continued “maybe it was when you walked me home every day and you didn't even complain about it. maybe it was when you always saved the last piece of my favorite snack for me even when you wanted it too. maybe it was when you stayed up all night helping me study even though you hated studying yourself. or maybe it was... when i realized that no matter what happened, you were always there for me. no matter how much i pushed you away, no matter how much i annoyed you, you never left. you were always there, sunghoon. and i think... i think that’s when i knew i loved you”

silence stretched between you. then he let out a small, breathless laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “we’re both idiots, aren’t we? how come we never noticed it before?”

you nodded with a smile on your lips. “yeah, the biggest ones”

a soft chuckle escaped him before he finally sat down next to you. “so... does this mean you’re mine now?” he asked teasingly.

you rolled your eyes playfully. “i’ve always been yours, idiot”

his lips curled into a soft smile. and in that moment, you knew, this was it. this was where you belonged. with him.

then he suddenly pulled you closer. “if you’ve always been mine” he whispered “then that means i get to do this”

before you could respond, he pressed a soft kiss on your lips making your breath hitch. you stared at him as he pulled away, stunned while he simply grinned.

“you’re ridiculous” you muttered though you couldn’t hide your smile.

“and you love me for it”

you sighed dramatically. “unfortunately”

he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a tight hug. “we really are idiots”

you nuzzled into his warmth, feeling your heart swell with joy. “yeah but at least we’re idiots together”

you couldn’t believe it. park sunghoon, your childhood best friend, the boy who had been by your side since you were little, the person you had been silently in love with for years felt the same way.

he had loved you too, all this time in the quiet ways you never noticed. he had spent years convincing himself that what he felt was one-sided, that confessing would ruin everything. but now, knowing that you loved him back, it felt like the weight he had been carrying for so long had finally lifted.

how many moments had he spent looking at you, memorizing every little detail, cherishing the time he had with you even if you never saw him the same way? and how many times had you caught yourself staring at him, wondering if he could ever look at you as more than just his best friend? it was funny, really. you both spent so much time worrying, overthinking, assuming the worst when in reality, you had always belonged to each other.

and you knew, in the end, it wasn’t the grand gestures or dramatic confessions that mattered most. it was these little things. the moments that seemed insignificant at the time but built something stronger than either of you had realized. the way love wasn’t just in the words spoken but in the actions that had been there all along.

the little things that matter...

[narudoodles]

Day 4 & 5 : on a date / canon divergence (modern AU) 🍂🍁🍂🌿

[isawjamfirst]

what if they had met as children and bcame friends since then huh WHAT THEN

[forwards-beckon-rebound]

kiss and cry

summary | you’ve learnt to build your walls sky high in the wake of dick grayson’s abrupt departure from the world of skating. but one decade later, he’s back like nothing ever happened, and you’re back to square one. prompt | language of flowers event: a bouquet of purple hyacinths in blue wrapping paper with a pink ribbon ♡ pairing | dick grayson x gn!reader wc | 3.2k warnings/tags | pairs figure skating, childhood friends to strangers to ???, mutual pining, repressed feelings, angst, swearing, insecurity, no use of y/n, very liberal interpretation of how you’d qualify for the olympics ty @strangergraphics for the divider!

Brian Orser is a liar. 

“Oh c'mon kid, I had no idea. I thought this was a good kind of surprise! You might have a chance at the Olympics this time around!”

You should’ve known something was up when he asked you to stay after practice. The old man is annoyingly close to catching up with you, and if you weren’t wearing skate guards right now, you’d speed walk to the lockers faster. 

“Isn’t this good? You need a new partner, Dick finally decided to call me back, and anyways, I thought you l-”

You don’t need to hear the rest of his sentence to know what he’s about to say. “I didn’t. And I don’t anymore.” Neither of you seem convinced, but at least it gets him to shut up. 

What pains you the most is you can’t even be mad at the older man. You can’t cry, or scream, or throw a tantrum like you were 9 again, because at the end of the day, this is the coach you had begged to take you on. The one who has been behind so many legends and basically built your career up from the ground. Had this been any other situation, any other person, besides the Boy Wonder himself, you would probably be on the verge of much happier tears. But you know, just like last time, he won’t be here to stay. And you don’t know how much more heartbreak you can take.

Before you get the chance to talk him out of it, a pair of footsteps joins you. Speak of the fucking devil.

It’s like they had planned some flanked attack, with Brian herding you towards the front of the building and Dick stepping in to cut you off as you’re about to make your grand escape. No idea, your ass. Brian knew you wouldn’t be able to say no if they had you cornered like this.

“Dick!” he exclaims, pushing past you to wrap the black-haired man in bear hug. Normally, you think you’d be hurt by how his face is practically illuminating (he had never greeted you like that before). But you have your own worries to deal with: namely, a heart that is currently trying to claw its way out of your throat and lungs that have forgotten how to inhale air. You think Brian might still be speaking, but if he is, you’ve tossed that all to the side in lieu of studying the man in front of you.

You make it a point not to meet his gaze, even as you feel him trying to meet yours. Perhaps it’s pride, perhaps it’s fear, but either way, you know as soon as you look at him, properly look at him, any objectivity will fly out the door.

So you settle for the obvious things. He’s taller, and his face is sharper, no longer rounded by baby fat. Even the spiky haircut you used to tease him for is grown out now. He looks good—but nothing like the boy you have enshrined in your memories. This isn’t the boy who would stay behind to help you practice your jumps. This isn’t the boy who would pack an extra lunch for you in case you forgot yours. This isn’t the boy you cried yourself to sleep over for months, the boy who almost made you quit the one thing you loved most in the world because the thought of skating alone made you want to hurl.

This? Him? It’s just a bitter reminder that figure skating wasn’t the only thing he left behind all those years ago. 

You think you hear the two of them discuss the technical details. Practice schedules, song choices, choreography—it all goes in one ear and out the other. It’s a conversation you have with the older man at the start of every season. An annual promise that that year would be the year you finally earn the recognition you had worked so hard for. 

Technically, everything had been perfect. Technically, you were good. Enough to consistently land a spot at the Grand Prix Final.

But not good enough for a medal. It was never enough. No matter how much training you did, how many extra jumps you crammed into your programs, how many partners you had cycled through. There was no use in denying it: after Dick had left, you hadn’t been the same skater.

It’s pathetic. Your crush had not only abandoned you at 14, but any hopes of even making it to the podium had been crushed then as well. And you hate that 10 years later, you still haven’t moved on. Not enough to say no to his offer. Because like it or not, chemistry is everything in pairs, and there’s nobody like him. There is nobody like Dick Grayson.

It’s silent now. They’re waiting for you. 

You finally look up to meet his gaze. “Okay, I’ll do it.” 

—

It’s too easy to fall back into step with Dick. He always greets you with a smile, brings you snacks before practice (homemade ones at that), and carries your bag to your car for you, even though you insist that you’re more than capable of doing it yourself. He’s certainly trying, but the more effort he puts in, the more you can’t help but resent him. 

His kindness is all just a means to an end for him. He’s buttering you up so your movements are less goddamn stiff when you’re next to him, so you at least vaguely resemble an evenly matched pair. You know from Brian that he’s only coming back because of a stupid bet he made with his brother. He’s just here to prove he can make it to the Olympics. Your childhood dream, what you’ve decided would be the sign that you’ve made it—to him, it’s just another achievement he can use to inflate his ego. The worst part about it is he’s good enough that he could genuinely make it happen that effortlessly. And once he’s satisfied with that, he’ll waltz out of your life just as quickly as he came in. 

So when he offers you a hand as you step out of the rink, when he happens to have an extra energy drink, when he suggests a “team bonding” dinner, you don’t accept. You’ll let yourself entertain him on the ice for the sake of the skate. But nothing more. 

At the very least, you can admit that your performance aspect has definitely improved since skating alongside Dick. You breeze through Eastern Regionals, then Skate Canada, then Skate America, and in no time at all, you’re at the Grand Prix Final: the one barrier you’ve always hit. 

The short goes even better than you imagined it would. Too good. You’ve seen the posts that the fans have made about the two of you, digging up old skating clips to support their theories about the two of you. There’s a poorly worded interview by Brian that does nothing but fuel the flames, and even some of the commentators have been talking about how good the two of you look together. All signs seem to be telling you that you have nothing to worry about; the two of you are perfect. They don’t understand that that’s exactly what you’re worried about. 

You don’t catch yourself until it’s too late. You’re slowly getting consumed by him—by his soft smiles and whispers of encouragement and stupid, stupid puns. You’re back where you started, feeling weightless as the two of you skate your free program, actually losing yourself to the music. There’s nothing to prove anymore; this isn’t a performance—this is just how it’s always meant to be. It should feel right. But it doesn’t, because you’re terrified that if you let yourself get comfortable in his embrace, you won’t be able to skate like this ever again.

You pop the triple Lutz. Then you go into an Euler and a double toe loop that’s under-rotated too. You don’t understand, your jumps have always been pristine, especially your doubles. You haven’t made a sloppy mistake like this in a while. The last time was when–

Shit, you’re too early into the step sequence, the turn too sharp at the corner. You meet his gaze repentantly, like that will absolve you of your guilt. You don’t know what emotion you’re expecting to find in eyes. Maybe anger? Frustration? That’s certainly how you feel at the moment. Whatever it is, it’s certainly not adoration. 

You want to ask him what the hell is going on, but there’s no time. Last move. Death spiral. You have to hold hands, and the contact makes your skin burn. You don’t have the heart to look at him again. You’re afraid of what you’re going to find.

Suddenly everything feels too tight: the rink, your chest, the skates around your feet. You have to get out of there. One revolution, two, three, four. You can hold on, it’s almost over. Another four. He pulls you back towards him. It’s your final pose. The two of you are chest to chest. 

You just have to hold this for a second, and then you’re free. You can do it. You can do it. And then he’s leaning in even closer, until his forehead is pressed against yours and your lips hovering over each other. 

You can’t do it anymore and all you can think about is how to get out of there. You don’t even bother to wait for your score; you’ll deal with Brian’s scolding later. But you know if you stay out there any longer, you won’t be able to scrape together what little sanity you still have left. 

You’re leaving. You have to leave.

And as you run back to the lockers, you realize somebody’s been calling out your name.

“Hey, wait! Is everything okay?” Of course, the one person you don’t want to see would follow you. “Why did you leave like that? Did I do something wrong?” His hand hovers over your arm for a moment before he pulls it away and you don’t know whether you should laugh or cry. He used to do it with practiced ease back when you were kids, when you would joke that he had cooties but let him do so all the same. Now, you’re not sure if you can stand his touch, and from the look on his face, it seems to break his heart.

”Nothing, let’s just forget about this.” You feel like you’re being strangled and it takes all of your energy not to burst into tears at the moment. 

”No,” he says softly. “No, I know you, I know you’re not okay. Please, let’s talk about this.” 

And suddenly, everything’s just too much. He’s acting too nice to you, like he actually cares. Like maybe the fervent glances and lingering touches on the ice mean more to him than just pandering to the judges. But you know he doesn’t, because then he wouldn’t have left.

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “No, you don’t know a single thing about me. So don’t act like you care about me now.”

”I do though!” 

“Bullshit. We’re not anything to each other.” 

His face crumples immediately. He takes a step back. This is the closest he’s ever been to tears.

On a kinder day, you’d take it all back. You’d apologize and beg for his forgiveness and he would be disgustingly kind like he always is and you could both forget about this. But you’re tired of dancing around the issue and you think there’s a sick part of you that revels in his pained expression. 

You take a step forward. “You’re just a coworker. This? This act where we pretend like we can stand to be in the same room as each other? This isn’t real. So stop acting like it is. You didn’t care about me when you left. So why the change now? Do you know how fucking hard it was for me to move on? I couldn’t even skate afterwards. I thought my career was over. And I’ve had to fight every single day to prove that—that I’m still a capable skater, that I have a place in this sport.” 

Your voice trembles, and it takes all of your strength to swallow the lump in your throat. “I had to fight to be able to skate without you. To have the courage to stand on the ice alone. So I’m sorry that I’m not willing to welcome you back with open arms, because I know this is just some stupid game to you. You’ll get to the Olympics, because of course you will, and I’ll get to ride on the coattails of that. And that will be the greatest moment of my career, but to you, it’s just another thing on your checklist. Then you’ll go back to whatever you decided is more worthy than m–” You choke on your own words. “Than skating. And I’ll have to pick up the broken pieces again. But frankly speaking, I don’t know if I can do that a second time.”

It’s dead silent, save for your panting. You feel like you just ran a marathon. And Dick? You can’t read him, and that’s what scares you the most.

”Forget it.” The silence is driving you insane, and you just start running your mouth. “Fuck, forget it. I should just be grateful you’re even my partner this season. It’s the only way I’ll make it to the Olympics. I know you’re thinking it, you and Brian—”

“Don’t say that.”

“—that’s why you left, isn’t it? Didn’t want to be tied down to a pathetic fucking loser.”

“I never said th—”

”I can’t blame you. I’d leave me too—“

“I DIDN’T LEAVE YOU!” 

Now you’re both silent. You’ve never heard him raise before. You’ve never seen him this desperate either. He’s shaking as he stands in front of you. “You’re right, I didn’t care about skating. It was always just a hobby to me. But I stayed because of you. Because I was young and stupid and in love and the only way I knew how to show you that was to skate with you. And it killed me when I had to quit, but I just…I saw how much passion you had for skating. Like it was the air you needed to breathe, but I knew I couldn’t dedicate myself to the sport like you could.. And you deserved a partner who would love skating as much as you do.”

You think your brain short circuits after “in love,” and if he says anything else after that, you certainly aren’t processing it. “…You loved me?”

Dick laughs like you’ve just asked if water is a liquid. ”Of course I did. Everybody knew it too. Brian used to tease me about the way I would look at you. And I figured I would finally tell you after I quit, in case it would make things awkward, but then…”

“I blocked you.” You whisper in horror. 

“Yeah, so I figured you didn’t want anything to do with me after that. I didn’t realize quitting meant I would lose you too.” 

And suddenly you’re 14 again, watching the boy you’ve had a crush on for over half of your life tell you that he doesn’t want to skate anymore, and you feel so small and so stupid. “Oh god. So all of those years…”

He nods, “I lied about the Olympics thing. Or well, I really did have a bet with Jason, but when Brian told me that you needed a new partner…I came back hoping it would be a chance to make it up to you.”

You’re still having a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that maybe Dick had genuinely been trying to make amends with you. “So you being nice wasn’t just for show or team-building or whatever?”

“Team-building? God, I don’t think there’s a world where I can love you in any other way.”

The first realization that he had loved you in the past had been enough to nearly give you a heart attack. But to hear love? In the present tense? You think back to how he’s been acting for the past few months. All of the weird incidents that you can’t just explain away by saying that he’s making fun of you or being civil to you as a teammate or just being nice because that’s how he is. 

Because there’s no other explanation for why he looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky, why he lifts you with a reverence that could rival the likes of Keats and Byron, why he lingers on the ice after every practice, like he’s chasing the last vestiges of your warmth. 

And you have so many words dancing on the tip of your tongue, ways in which you can lay down your heart for him as he has done for you. But both of you know that even this stolen moment is just that: stolen time.

”Shall we go back?” He offers you his hand evenly, but there’s a tremble in his voice that gives him away. Like he’s worried that even after all of this, there was a universe in which you still don’t reciprocate his feelings. 

Your heart is screaming at you to assure him, promise that yes of course, you would accept him. But the words evaporate from your mind before you have a chance to grasp onto them. So you hope that at the very least, your actions can convey a fraction of your feelings. Hand in hand, you make your way back to the rink. No matter what the result is, you think it’ll be alright if you have Dick’s shoulder to cry on after this is all over. 

—

“And with a free score of 129.44 and a final score of 205.57, that puts America’s own duo from Gotham at third place in the Grand Prix Final!” 

Third, the word echoes in your head, taking you a few moments to process. Third, and there were no other American teams on the podium. Sure, it isn’t exactly the most fairytale ending, but it’s better this way—more real. You turn to look at Dick, who you’re sure has the exact same look of astonishment that you do. You remember Brian doing the math before you guys had even made it to the venue. Based on this event and the rest of your results this season, it was clear that the two of you were the uncontested pair in the whole country. 

“You’re going to the Olympics!” Brian whoops, hugging the both of you and jumping for joy in a way you think only he can get away with. You’re grinning so hard your muscles are starting to twitch but honestly you could care less about that. All of the training, all of the sleepless nights had finally paid off, and you felt like you had really, truly made it. And the fact that you did it with Dick makes it all the sweeter to you. 

You got a medal, a boyfriend, and that day, the kiss and cry finally lived up to its name.

more dick skating hcs | event m.list | main m.list | navi

[enden-k]

whaaaaat about baby/kiddo saran and baby/kiddo vika just as like a “in another life” kind of thing?

if they would have been born in the same region/would be around the same age and go to the same elementary school, or just an entire new AU 🥹 im getting thoughts and ideas waaaa

[emmcfrxst]

this is high school benny miller as the captain of the football team 🫡

[youneedsomeprompts]

~ WHY WOULD CHILDHOOD FRIENDS FALL IN LOVE ~ WRITING PROMPTS

requested by: anonymous

Feel free to use and reblog!

the other knows their past (and that creates a special familiarity)

the other knows their best-kept secret and stays by their side regardless

the other knows them so well that they don't have to explain themselves

they love the past versions of each other

they have a soft spot for the child the other once was

they know each others' weaknesses and it makes them so much closer

they associate them with a happy time in their life

they are an unexpected haven of safety

because everything new hasn't worked out so they come back to the old

because they see them in a whole new light when they reunite and suddenly it's romantic and not solely platonic

they secretly have loved the other one for a long time

because they're fellow sufferers

they know what to expect of the other

they always fall back on each other

they can rely on the other

they appreciate each other's growth and make each other feel seen

they have shared so much, why not share the rest of their lives?

they have always envisioned themselves ending up together

they make the child in each other happy

they've put so much work into their relationship already that the trust just doesn't compare to anyone else

[starry-bi-sky]

For your childhood friends au, how do you see the relationship between Jason and Danny??? Like do you see it as platonic, romantic, some secret third thing or some amalgamation of all of these that only makes sense to them???

oh definitely a bizarre amalgamation of all three of these things that only makes sense to them. They'd crawl under the other's skin if they could, if it meant never leaving the other's side ever again. Jason would climb into Danny's chest to listen to his heart, and vice versa. The secret third thing: so utterly devoted to one another that the lines blur. If you took a peek at their souls, you wouldn't be able to tell the difference. It's a gradient they've smudged together.

If somebody told Jason and Danny to "keep their dog on a leash", neither of them would who is which. They're based on the song "Wait For Me" from Hadestown (Both Versions). They are also the song "Far Away From Tulsa" and "Death's At My Door" from the Outsiders. Although I discovered those songs only over this summer.

If they were somehow transported into a universe with soulmates, they would not have matching marks, but they wouldn't have to. Danny or Jason would grab a pen and draw their own on each other. "Why should I share my soul with someone I don't know? I want to share it with you!"

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

HOME || CHILDHOOD BFF! SIMON 💔

Summary:

Teen Simon and his best friend often spend their nights away from their respective houses because they found a home in each other…

Pairing:

teen!Simon x teen!F!reader

Content Warnings:

This fic gets dark. It references Simon's backstory (from '09), child abuse, domestic violence, child death, arguments, injuries, abandonment issues, drugs, sex, alcohol, youth homelessness, etc.

Check every chapters' tags/cw for specific warnings.

Chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Canon Ending (Hurt/No Comfort):

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Non-Canon Ending (Hurt/Comfort):

Alternative Ending

Extras:

Home: Moodboard

Home: Playlist

1st Attempt at a Happy Ending (I don't like it)

[MY MASTERLIST]

[maedae-maedae]

Your Hands All Over My Guilty Conscience

☆ Okkotsu Yuuta x F!Reader

☆ Chapter 1/7

☆ Genre: Fluff & Smut, Mutual Pining

☆ Warnings: NSFW 18+

☆ Contents: Aged-Up Characters, College AU, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Obsession, Loyalty, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Drinking, House Party, Masturbation

☆ Word Count: 10.6k

☆ Summary: Linked at the hip as best friends since birth, you and Yuta have never once not been at eachother's side. Anyone who knew one of you, had to know the other. You made quite the reputation for yourselfs as an inseparable duo, throughout all your school years together. Yuta was committed to keep things this way, despite his secret feelings for you. He was strong-willed, keeping his longing emotions reined in and your relationship stable just the way it is.

But once the two of you graduate and enter university, this proves to be more difficult than Yuta anticipated. He finds himself in a whole other playing field. One that forces him to see and confront his feelings for you head-on. His once clean consciences regarding you, starts becoming more and more tainted. And worse, uni only seems to pull the two of you apart, something neither of you are used to. What is he supposed to do with all these new experiences and deep yearning for you?

☆ A/N: i actually wrote this chapter a while ago but didnt want to share until i had more planned out and written! hopefully next chapter is soon but this first one is probably longer than the ones following will be! think of it like a detailed opening introduction to the story.

warning: this story switches from fluff to smut/perverted a lot. might throw you off at times. also, HEAVY on the obsession tag. youre both obsessed with eachother but i really went over the top to express how crazy yuta is for you. hehe

Read on AO3

—————————————————

Chapter 1 - Firsts

Yuta has a guilty conscience.

He’s known he was in love with you since high school. And aside from the painfulness that comes with an unreciprocated crush, he actually didn’t mind his feelings. He liked being head over heels for you. It was a privilege, he thought, to get to love you, even just to know you.

The two of you have been glued by the hip since birth practically. Your mom’s were best friends and somehow ended up pregnant at the same time, basically raising you two together. It really shouldn’t be a surprise the way he feels, after having you by his side all this time, how could he ever love someone else as deeply as he does you?

You were popular in high school, and people would only really acknowledge him in the way it related to you. “Y/n’s friend”. “That guy thats always with Y/n.” And, Yutas personal favorite, “Y/n’s boyfriend.” That one was always used in a way to tease you, and you would always refute it and scold whoever said it. But deep down it made him happy to be called that, and maybe that’s why. Maybe that’s why at some point he started doing things in the hallways or the lunchroom to enforce that rumor. Very subtle physical affection that he was known for doing with you at this point. Fingers gently entangling with yours while the two of you talk about something by the window. It’s so gentle that you don’t even notice or mind, but anyone who was looking at you could see that you’re obviously holding hands, albeit weakly. The need to always be touching you in some way when you were together. Shoulders slumped into eachother while sitting together, pinkies wrapped while you sit on the school grass with friends, his hands grazing against yours when you walk side by side. He could never get enough of the little things. And yeah he did it for the rumors, so everyone would know that even if it wasn’t official, you were his. You were claimed already. No one could be this close with you and get away with it. But when you two were alone it was even better.

Yuta's love language was most definitely physical touch. You’ve always known that he likes to be physical, and that was just his way of showing he liked you. Platonically, in your eyes. When you’d hang out at each others house, he was still always connected with you in some way. Head in your lap as the two of you talk about some drama in your class. Arms around you from behind with his head on your shoulder as you finish a level of a game he already died in. Legs entangled in various ways under the kotatsu as you both do homework. It took many forms. It never bothered you luckily, in fact you’d long become accustomed to it. Even as kids Yuta was the same, and your moms used to eat it up and say you two would be married someday, taking a thousand one pictures of you for that reason.

It really was all innocence until sometime in high school when he had developed feelings. His physical affection never changed but the feeling and motive behind it might’ve. And sometimes he quite literally couldn't do some of the stuff he used to do when you were younger, because it would most definitely give him away now.

He’ll never forget the day it really changed for him. Playing video games with his arms around you like normal, but it wasn’t normal this time. His heart was beating, he was nervous. Looking up at you from your shoulder, he couldn’t get over how you look pretty from every angle. How cute were your reactions to every hit of damage you take in the game. Suddenly he’s incredibly aware of where his hands are sitting, how close you are, your warmth, your breathing, how good you smell. Something in his awareness heightens, like the flick of a switch, and he realizes that this is different. Different to what he thought it was. He also realizes how bad that is, and it makes his stomach drop. He went home early that day, but nothing ever changed. Only the way he felt.

After that day Yuta knew he had to be mindful with the way he acted with you, and even in the way he thought of you. He allowed himself to have loving thoughts of you, for they could always be rationalized in someway to be friendly. “You’re so pretty” could be followed by “so I cant believe none of the guys in class have confessed to you yet.” and “You have the most precious laugh” could be backed by “its no wonder why you have so many friends”. Stuff like that. What he wouldn’t allow and actively tried to avoid, were thoughts that could not possibly be platonic in any use of the word. Like sexual thoughts.

It was only natural. After becoming aware of his feelings and with the effects of maturing into a young adult he was bound to have thoughts like this. But he wouldn’t allow it, not even in your absence, in his own privacy. Of course he couldn’t fight sexual urges all together, but he did his very best not to think of you when he was doing something like that. And Yuta was very good at self-discipline, the reason why his test scores are the best in your grade. He was successful in pushing the thoughts away, avoiding seeing you in this new forbidden light. For a long time.

And everything was fine. You never suspected a thing from him, your friendship never changed, and you even ended up enrolling in the same university.

That’s where his trouble started.

College is a totally different experience from high school that he wasn’t quite expecting. And everything has been taking a toll on him lately.

When the two of you first start, everything’s fine. You already know a bunch of freshman from your school, but you’re also easy to make friends with a bunch of other people as well. Yuta mostly stays with your smaller friend group that you two had in highschool. Inumaki and Panda got into the same Uni as well, not to mention the boys ended up living together.

And Yuta has no real issue with you making new friends at all, of course he’s happy for you. You still like to have him with you all the time, even if you don’t have many classes together. So long as he can still have time with you, he’s happy. What starts to bother him is the way the guys around you stare. Men in uni are much different from high school. And most of the guys here have no idea about the rumors of you two, all his years of showing such a thing are now practically worthless. You don’t notice, but he always does. He hated the way they stare, as if undressing you with their disrespectful eyes, grinning and whispering to friends, probably making sly comments he can’t hear when they shouldn’t even have the right to take the slightest glance in your direction.

“Yuta?” You call to him from where you sit next to him in the dining hall. He just now realizes that he’d been staring down these two guys a couple tables away in his peripheral vision.

“Huh? Yeah?” He calls back to you, turning to look at you now.

“Is something wrong?“

“Huh? No, nothing.”

“Oh, okay… well, did you hear what I said?” You ask and his heart sinks a little. He wasn’t listening, he didnt even realize you were talking to him.

“No.. I’m sorry. Tell me again?” He offers, giving you his full attention now. You give him a smile at hearing his usual sweet tone of voice when he speaks to you. You love everything about the way he is with you.

“I was talking about a party I got invited to-“

“You were invited to a party?? But-“

“Yu, let me finish.” You tell him before he can start lecturing you about it being dangerous or something, as you’re positive he was going to. He pouts a little. Cute.

“It’s for freshman. An upperclassman invited me so I think it’s for all years, but I guess it’s more of a welcoming party.” You explain and Yuta only frowns more. Since when did you make friends with an upperclassman? He’s never seen you with one. And the thought of you being at a party with a bunch of drunk guys or just drunk people in general makes him nervous.

His fingers automatically find yours under the table. Without thinking he finds a way to connect with you. It may have been to calm himself down, or maybe to get your attention again so you could see that he’s clearly uncertain about this idea. He couldn’t say. It does get your attention though, and you give him a look of understanding as your fingers intertwine a bit more.

“I know college parties can be kinda crazy and all that, and I wouldn’t want to go alone anyways even if they weren’t. They said I could invite whoever I wanted so.. You guys wanna come?”

“Sure, I’m down.” Inumaki says, and Yuta had almost forgot his friends were there for a second.

“Oh, yeah! Our first college party! I’ll be there.” Panda grins and you smile at their agreement. Your gaze returns to Yuta again, and his to yours.

“I’m.. not really into parties but..” He starts and you look like you’re anticipating his agreement. “If you wanna go, of course I’ll go with you.”

You smile at him, sweet as ever. But you do feel a bit bad about the possibility that you’re forcing him. As much as you want him there, you don’t want him to be miserable going with you.

“You don’t have to, y’know. Just because I’m going. I wont make you.” You remind him and he smiles too now, nodding.

“I know. I want to.” He reassures you and you feel relieved at that. “Plus, I want to make sure you guys are all safe. It’s better to go with a group to stuff like this and have someone to look over everyone.”

“You don’t have to worry about me.” Inumaki tells him. “I can’t drink.”

Right, Inumaki has a chronic condition that makes his throat very sensitive, of course he wouldn’t be allowed alcohol.

“And I have a high tolerance! I’ll be fine.” Panda informs too, and you all look at him like you’re suspicious of how he even knows that. He just smiles.

“Well, still. Being in one place with a ton of drunk people is dangerous on its own.” Yuta says anyways, going back to picking at his food.

You give him a knowing look.

“You can just admit you wanna come and have fun. It’s okay, we wont judge you.” You tease and the other two chuckle a bit.

“Well, maybe.” Yuta gives after a second of embarrassment by your call out. “But I’m mostly going for the other reason.”

You laugh at how cute he is, squeezing his hand before letting it go to hug him. He blushes in concession with both your adorable laugh and your warm embrace. His two friend wiggle their eyebrows at him as your back is to them and Yuta rolls his eyes at them. They are always contempt to tease him in silence. Yuta never even told them about how he feels, but he knows they just know. And he doesn’t mind. As long as it doesn’t get to you.

Agreeing to go to this party with you was probably both the best and worst thing he could’ve done. It would’ve been better if he could’ve talked you out of coming, but he knew from the beginning that wouldn’t be an option, and he wouldn’t want to control you.

When you first get there, the four of you are a bit awkward. Panda offers to take your first ever shot with you and somehow Yuta even agrees to do “just the one”. You take the hit pretty well, but you all burst out laughing when Yuta makes the most disgusted expression you’ve ever seen on him.

It’s sweet, even if embarrassing, the two of you having “first” moments together like this. It’s not long before your two friends are nowhere to be found, and Yuta can assume why they left you two alone. It’s also not long after that you’re convincing him to take another couple of shots with you, even though he hated the first one, he loved having these moments with you. He’d do anything with you. Even follow you to the center of the room to dance when he’s always known he’s not the best dancer.

When you’re dancing, quite a few people come up to you to talk, even just to say hello. You really know a lot of people. But it doesn’t bother him at all because even with everyone that comes by, you never once let go of his hand. And when your attention isn’t on him, he can freely admire you as much as he wants without having to be cautious about the way he looks at you.

He knows the alcohol is catching up to him a little when he starts to get needy. Any kind of connection with you is enough for him on a normal day, but right now he has the urge to be all over you, and it’s taking everything in him to keep it subtle.

You’re still talking to some girl he’s maybe seen a few times— he can’t recall, when he decides he needs your attention again. He pulls your hand towards him, but it doesn’t deter you from the loud  conversation you’re having, much more than a quick glance at him. On the inside it feels like he could start whining, begging for you to look at him, be with him in this moment. The music isn’t helping either, some seductive rnb song with vulgar lyrics pumping in his ears. He does something he’s never done before, without much thought to it either. His free hand reaches out and grabs your waist, gripping you tightly and pulling you towards him. You gasp and look at him with surprise. Even more surprised when you see the longing expression on his face. Your friend seemingly understands and leaves you two be, to Yutas relief.

He can’t stand the embarrassment he feels with the way you’re looking at him, but he also can’t bare to be apart from you at all anymore. He pulls you in, his arms wrapping around you, hands resting in a dangerous area. Any lower and this couldn’t be considered platonic at all. He bends over a bit so his head can nuzzle into your neck. He wants to feel you, all of you, even more than this. But he stops here.

“Yu…?” You say in a bit of a confused tone, right in his ear. A chill runs down his spine. Your hands had already come up to wrap around him as well, rubbing his back in a way that made him feel so warm.

“Mmve you.” He mumbles and he doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore.

“Hm?” You ask for him to clarify, voice smooth like honey, but he doesn’t say anything else. The two of you stay like that, starting to rock to the music when it’s clear that this is not just a hug.

It’s not like you look out of place at all, there are plenty of people around you doing something similar, even straight up making out.

“Yu.. look at me.” You tell him and he can’t help but comply. His head lifts up from your shoulder and he stands up a bit straighter to look at you.

“You okay??” You ask him sweetly and his heart races looking into your eyes. It’s too much for him. This is all too much.

He nods anyways, eyes closing and forehead coming to rest against yours.

He thinks you must be at least a little drunk too by the way your hands start to caress his back and sides. But he doesn’t even think about what you might be thinking about him being so clingy like this. He knows you don’t mind, that you understand, you always understand him. He loves you for it.

“You drunk already? Hmm??” You say and he doesn’t have to be looking at you to hear the smirk in your voice.

“I mean I expected it but you’re really a lightweight, huh?” You say to him and this time he opens his eyes to see you smiling.

“Of course I am.. this is my first time drinking.” Yuta says in basically a whine. Your heart races.

The thing Yuta doesn’t know, is that you’re obviously just as needy for him right now. You don’t think the alcohol has really gotten to you that much, and thank god for that honestly. But you love seeing him like this, it’s making you feel all types of things about him.

There’s a silence as he frowns. You tilt your head as if saying “what?” to him.

“I need to use the bathroom.” He tells you so bluntly that it makes you laugh. But before you know it you’re leading him to the bathroom, guiding him by the hand. Truth is, you don’t know where it is either, you’ve never been here. But you feel a sort of need to take charge for some reason. You find it pretty quickly anyways, and tell him you’ll wait outside.

Relieving himself proves difficult after having gotten half hard from what just happened. He’s lucky you didnt feel it, or maybe you did and you didn’t say anything. Who knows? Eventually he figures it out and gets back outside.

His heart sinks when he doesn’t see you. Glancing around frantically, he tries to look for any sight of you. Red, you were wearing red, that and any of your features that he’s so familiar with would be impossible to miss. He starts pushing past people, anxiously looking for where you might’ve gone. It’s maybe 20 minutes later when he finally finds you, in the kitchen. After the relief washes over him, he realizes that the anxiety looking for you definitely sobered him up already.

He wasn’t able to see at first, someone blocking his view, but as he moves further into the kitchen, he catches it. A guy talking to you, but not just any guy, the guy from the lunch room the other day.

His dirty mouth probably having said disgusting things about you—that you’re totally unaware of, yapping away at you as you nod at him.

No. He wont have it.

He continues to push past people, small apologizes leaving his mouth all the same even with all the anger running through him right now. You’re surprised when he grabs your wrist, even though he’s still gentle about it, it comes so suddenly.

“Oh! Yuta, you-“

“Where’d you go?” He asks immediately, as if scolding you.

“Huh? Where’d I.. oh! My friend pulled me away I- oh but I told someone waiting in line to tell you where I went did they not tell you?”

“No. No one told me.” He states coldly and you frown.

“Oh. Sorry..” You say but realize that now he’s glaring at the guy you were just talking to. “Oh, yeah, this is-“

“Don’t care.” He mutters and before you can say anything, he’s pulling you back towards the living room from where he came in. His pull isn’t harsh, you could easily refute, but you follow him anyways.

He leads you away until you’re in the corner of the room, away from the speakers where it’s a bit quieter.

“Wha was that? Kinda rude, Yu.” You say, confused, and now significantly more disoriented. Your friends had pulled you away for a drinking game, and Yuta was in the bathroom for a bit.

“You said you would wait outside.” He says, almost like pouting, but his expression is stern and serious.

“Yeah but you were taking foreverrr.” You tease, giving him a silly smile. “What were you even doing in there, huh?”

“That doesn’t matter, you scared me! I told you places like this are dangerous for-“ He starts to lecture you, but cuts himself off to focus on you for a second. It finally starts to click for him that you aren’t in the same state he left you in. Your eyes are lazy, kind of wandering. Your body swaying and unbalanced. And just from knowing how your body language usually is, he knows something is really off.

“Did you drink more while I was in the bathroom?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You tell him honestly, not seeing any reason to hide it.

“How much?”

“Ummmm….”

“You don’t know?!”

“I’m thinking!!”

You put your finger to your lips and start working your brain to remember, counting off the number in your head.

“Y/n, you’re scaring me.” Yuta says as it takes you longer than he thinks it should to answer.

“It was like.. four.. actually, five.”

“Five what?”

“Shots.”

“Of what??”

“Um.. alcohol?”

“You don’t even know what they were giving you?” Yuta stares at you in complete disbelief.

“Well, they didn’t tell me, so..” You mumble a reply, feeling guilty now like you must have made a mistake. “Does it really matter?”

“Y/n!” Yuta says as if scolding you, again.

“What? It was a game, we were all just having fun!!” You retort.

“You can’t just take any drink anyone gives you! I cant believe I have to tell you that.” He says, crossing his arms.

“They’re not just anyone they’re my friends!” You retort again, frowning at him.

“I’m your friend. You hardly know these people!” He argues without hesitation and something in you hurts at those words. 

“Yu…”

“And what’s in that, then?” He inquires, pointing down, and— up until now you totally forgot the red cup in your hand. Oh, make that 6(?) drinks you guess.

“It’s mango juice and… vodka.” You tell him warily, knowing you have no clue what kind of alcohol it actually is. But you can’t lie to his face, you know you can’t. “…Probably.”

“Probably?!”

“Yu!! Stop worrying! Look, I’m fine! I’m safe! And I have you here, so iss okay.” You tell him genuinely and Yuta’s heart pangs. Knowing you have so much security and trust in him to know you’ll be safe as long as he’s here, makes him incessantly happy. But he just doesn’t trust the people here, and god forbid he lose you again.

“Y/n, let’s go home.” He tells you as nicely as he can.

“What? No, I’m having fun.” You tell him to his dismay and he frowns. He really doesn’t want to argue with you.

“Please. The alcohol you had probably hasn’t even really caught up with you yet. We should get you home before it does.”

“Yu, I’m not leaving. I came to have a good time.” You tell him again firmly and he basically pouts at this. “Cmon. I wanna have a good time with you too. Let’s go dance again.”

You entice him, your hand finding his for the millionth time, that look in your eyes as you stare up at him. You have to know what you do to him, right?

“…Alright.” He agrees and your smile spreads into a grin, practically jumping in place with excitement and victory at convincing him.

“But!” He interrupts, putting his finger up and making you go still again. “No more drinking for the night.” 

“Whattt?” You frown and protest as he takes the cup that was basically empty anyways out of your hands.

“You’ve had a lot already for your first time and I don’t want you to get sick. Let’s just hang out for the rest of the time, okay?”

You pout as he waits for your compliance to his terms. You think about how likely it would be for him to actually carry you out of here if you didn’t.

“Promise me? Please?” He says sweetly, looking into your eyes as if further asking with them. You cant say no to him like this.

“Fine.” You tell him and you adore the way he smiles afterward. “For you.”

After that, the two of you are back in the middle of where everyone else is dancing. This time he isn’t really intoxicated at all and maybe that’s why he’s not so needy. Your other friends come to join with you, even inumaki and panda as well. He sees you having a good time and that’s enough for him to have a good time too. Though he supposes he’s also just having fun dancing and being young with everyone like this.

The night about peaks there.

After dancing a bit, you lean into Yuta’s ear to tell him you’re gonna go get water for the two of you. You’re basically yelling since you guys are dancing pretty close to the speakers this time. When Yuta finally understands you he shoots you a concerned look. You roll your eyes.

“You trust meee, right?” You say again into his ear. He nods without hesitating. Of course he trusts you.

“I’m just getting water, promise.” You tell him again. “I’ll be back.”

Before he can offer to get it instead, you’re gone.

He watches you go, snaking your way through people toward the kitchen. He feels a bit awkward with you gone now, like it’s not as fun in your absence. Still he watches your friends and his dance along together, and he can’t help smiling at them.

After a minute he feels a hand on his arm, and he looks over, thinking it’s you. It’s a girl he’s never seen before. Or at least he thinks he hasn’t. She’s mouthing something at him, probably talking at normal volume, but he can’t hear obviously.

“Sorry, what? I can’t hear you!” He shouts over the music and she beckons him with her hand to come closer. He complies, not really thinking much of it. She must have something to tell him. Maybe it’s about you?

When he does lean in, shes so close he can feel her breathing. It’s weird, being this close to someone else and it almost feels wrong. She just starts a normal conversation with him, asking where he’s from and what year he is. It seems normal and Yuta talks along with her, thinking it a little strange to be having a normal conversation somewhere so inconvenient. But he’s polite about it. She keeps talking, and all Yuta can think about is where you are. Would it take this long to get water? No, but, he trusts you. He doesn’t need to worry.

“Are you okay?” The girl asks and he snaps back to the current moment again.

“H-huh? Oh, yeah.” He yells back, as they’ve been doing for a few minutes.

She says something like he’s very cute, or that’s what he thinks she said. When it’s clear he didn’t properly hear her, she pulls him close, forcefully by his shirt. It’s when she starts saying things in his ear that are obviously flirting now that he finally sees you out of the corner of his eye. You look shocked but, hey, you do have two cups of water with you.

You start talking to the girl, back and forth, the two of you talking quickly about something he’s not quite hearing.

Something something- you. Something something- your boyfriend? Something something- just leave something alone.

Then they start getting louder, and he starts to hear better. This is also where he starts to realize you’re not just talking to her, you’re arguing with her.

“Why do you even care? _____ jealous?” The other girl says, parts of what she’s saying still kind of blank. The two of them are clearly angry now. Even your friends are starting to wonder whats going on.

“Excuse me? Who even are you? You ____ and then ____?!”

From there it all happens so quickly, Yuta barely has time to process it all. He knows how you get when you’re angry, he’s seen you argue with girls and even guys from your school before. Hell, even when you were kids you used to get into fights with other kids who would bully him until they stopped. It’s not that you look for a fight, or that you’re easy to get upset at all, but when you do you’re a hundred percent with it. You don’t waver or back down, as long as you believe you’re in the right. But, what could this girl have possibly done to make you so mad? And what’s gonna happen when how you usually are in an arguement is boosted with the effects of being intoxicated?

He has no time to prevent it at all. Voices get louder, you both get closer. Then he hears the other girl say “Oh, why don’t we test that then, huh?”

She turns to him, calls something out to him, but he just continues to stand there, very confused. Suddenly her hands are reaching up for him, taking his face in her hands and pulling him towards her own. Again, this is all happening too fast for Yuta to process. He only realizes shes about to kiss him when all at once the girl is now drenched in water, some of the splash bouncing off and hitting him as well. She freezes to look down at herself in shock, and Yuta stares with eyes wide. He’s too late to look at you because when he does, you’re already lunging at her, shoving her towards the wall with no remorse.

He’s quick to act this time as you’re about to go after her for more, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you back as you actively squirm and yell for him to let you go. It’s to his dismay when he sees the other girl coming towards you now rather than leaving. Your other friends join in to help in holding the both of you back. It’s a bit of a struggle to get you two apart, but before he knows it, Yuta and the other boys have successfully gotten you away. Which happened to be upstairs, since the girls were taking the other girl outside.

Thankfully it didn’t cause too big of a scene. People around had stopped to look and see what was going on, but once the fight was prevented, everything went back to normal.

“What the hell was that?! What happened?!” Panda shouts at you as you’re still panting from all the struggle to get out of the hold of the three boys that now stand around you in some random bedroom. You’re on the bed, and Yuta sits next to you. You don’t even want to look at him.

“What did she say??” Inumaki adds.

“Are you okay?” Yuta also adds, sweetly more concerned about that than anything.

“I’m fine.” You say in a tone that indicates you are infact not.

“Oh, sure, answer Yuta but not us.” Panda says, rolling his eyes. “Can we get an explanation?”

“Guys. Cmon. That was obviously a lot. She needs time to process.” Yuta says in your defense and it’s honestly hard to stay mad at him, though you’re not even quite sure why you are. You’re feeling a lot of things right now.

The three of them go back and forth a bit and you’re not having it, already upset enough.

“Can you guys jush leave me alone!!” You shout and again, you’re not even sure why. You don’t want to be alone.

“…What?” Yuta says, almost like in disbelief, and you turn to see his sad expression. Something on your heart tugs. You don’t think you’ve ever asked Yuta to leave you alone. He was always around to help you even in your lowest times, even when it was the two of you who fought.

You hear a sigh from Inumaki.

“Alright, we get it, we’ll leave you two alone. Lovebirds.” He says, muttering the last part. You blush slightly, they totally read through you just now.

“We expect an explanation later though!” Panda calls on their way out. The two of you stare at the door for a moment after.

When Yuta finally turns back at you, he’s genuinely surprised to see you look so angry. Were you mad at him?

“What’s… going on? What happened back there?” He asks you gently, cautiously.

“Yuta you are so clueless!!” You shout at him suddenly, making him jump.

“H-huh?!”

“You didn’t notice?! She was flirting with you!” You say and push his chest, too gentle to actually be real anger.

“What?? I mean.. well I kind of noticed, eventually…” he says sheepishly, a bit confused. “Why does it matter?”

He watches your face heat up and you quickly look away from him.

“Oh my god,” you say, putting your face in your hands. “You make me feel crazy.”

“Huh?” Yuta mumbles again and then he suddenly remembers that you’re still drunk. He goes to touch your arm but you snap back around at him before he can.

“She was trying to kiss you!!” You shout and he nods in surprise.

“I know!” He confirms and his heart speeds up when he realizes that was clearly not the thing to say. You suddenly look sad instead of mad, and it breaks his heart.

“I-It’s not like I wanted her to. It happened so fast I-“

“Yeah right, when I got there she was all over you! You’ve always been clueless!! It’s like this any time any girl flirts with you! In highschool too.”

…what?

When Yuta looks back on tonight, it was obvious that girl was flirting with him, sure, even if he did notice kind of late. But high school? He never had girls who flirted with him, not that he can think of.

“What.. do you mean? I was never hit on in high school.”

“Yeah, that’s what you think.” You say, poking his chest. “That’s my point.”

This is troubling for him as he starts to really analyze anytime any girl might of flirted with him in the past. No matter how hard he thinks, he can’t even think of one.

Then he realizes something. What… does this have to do with anything? So you were mad that that girl was flirting with him. Got that. But why? There’s really only one answer right? But there’s no way… it has to be in a platonic way, right? Jealousy.

He snaps out of his thoughts suddenly when he hears a familiar sniffle, and his awareness lights up, like an instinct. You’re crying. You’re crying right next to him, and it seems like it’s his fault. His heart aches and he immediately pulls you into an embrace, quietly cooing soft affirming words and apologies, rubbing your back. He remembers AGAIN, the fact that you are very drunk, and of course your actions are not going to completely make sense to him or anyone. People do unreasonable things when they’re drunk right? Things they’d never think of doing sober. So, he decides to just comfort you and assure you rather than argue or try to understand anymore.

You stay like this, gently crying into his chest and gripping his shirt as he holds you, his chin resting on your head. He knows exactly when you need this kind of comforting, and he’s very happy to give it to you. You go quiet after a few minutes, and he doesn’t pull back until you quietly call his name.

“Yuta.” You say, slightly muffled.

“Mm?” He hums as he softly pulls back to look at you.

You look up at him, eyes wet and face tinted pink, an absolute painting of purity underneath him.

“We should kiss.” You tell him, completely genuine.

“h-hUH?!” He squeaks and the crack in his voice does not help his face that immediately turned red at your words.

“You don’t want to?” You say sadly and this feels like some kind of test.

“No, I!- I mean… why… do you say that?” His words leave his mouth in a pathetic way that he hates, as if betraying him.

“It’s just…” You start sheepishly, and now you have to look away, embarrassed. “We’ve been together since we were kids.. we’ve done everything together. All the firsts. So…”

He watches as you breathe in and turn to look at him again, hanging on to every word you’re saying.

“Doesn’t it make sense that we should be eachothers first kiss too? It’d be weird to give it to anyone else… and you almost had someone take your first kiss tonight… that can happen too, so…”

You’re drunk. You’re drunk. You’re drunk. You’re drunk. You’re drunk. You’re drunk.

He has to hammer that into his head to not lose himself here. But even repeating it to himself over and over, he’s leaning in, and you’re leaning in. You’re so close, something he’s always wanted deep down is right in front of him, teasing, taunting him.

It takes everything in him to pull back again.

“I can’t…” He says, his eyes clenched shut.

“Why?”

“Because you’re drunk.”

“And?”

“And… it would be wrong…” he continues, really trying his best to keep composure here, and somewhat failing. His eyes shoot open when he feels you climb over him, coming to sit in his lap where your legs stratal him. Now this is something you two have never done. Your body is so warm on top of his, and your hands too when they come to rest against his chest. One hand comes up to brush a hair out of his eyes, then falling down to caress his cheek. He swallows hard.

What are you doing?

“This is about me?” You ask him curiously. Your sober self would be shocked by how easily you’re about to do something you’ve always dreamed of doing to Yuta specifically. You want to kiss him, of course, but you also want to tease him. You love to do so on a normal day, but you’ve been given quite the special opportunity with the current situation and your rise in confidence thanks to the drinks earlier.

“Yes.. b-but this is-“

“If it’s about me, then let’s just do it. I’m practically sober.” You lie to him, which you never do. You really want this.

“You’re not. You’re drunk, I can tell.” He calls your bluff even in his flustered state. You’re caught. You can’t really argue with him on that. Instead you bring your head down to lay on his shoulder, resting there for a moment. He sighs quietly in relief, thinking you’d given in, his arms coming in to hold you again. There’s a moment of peace.

A loud gasp leave his lips suddenly when you start pressing your lips to his neck. Softly, you place one by one, moving around to make sure to give him plenty. You feel like you’re on fire when you hear him start to moan at this. You knew he’d be the type to moan and whine, you know him. You want to hear more. You cant stop yourself.

“Ah.. Y/n..” he breathes as you kiss up to the nape of his ear and along his collar bone. You even come up to give his cheek a couple of pecks the way you think you must’ve when you were really little. My how times change, and yet not at all. All he can think about is how soft your lips are, trying to fight against is own pleasure.

“Y/n..” he says, strained, like he’s pleading you. “Really, we can’t do this… Please, stop.”

At his specific request for you to stop, you do. You pull back and look at him. His face is flushed like crazy and he looks so lusted. Yet he said no, and his hands stay put on your back. In fact, he’s not moved a muscle at all since you climbed onto him.

“You really don’t want to?” You ask, almost sadly.

“I already told you..” he trails off weakly, not able to look at you in the eyes. His face is really burning up. Honestly even he’s impressed with how much he’s able to hold back right now. Literally any other circumstance. Anywhere, anytime, he would give into you. But he would hate himself if tomorrow you said this was a mistake, or god forbid got angry at him for letting you do something in a state where your minds not right like this. You trusted him to keep you safe, and that includes from himself. He is a man after all, childhood best friend or otherwise. He’s doing this for you essentially, even though it’s ironically the opposite of what you want in the moment.

“If you’d rather have your first time with someone else, you can just say that.” You say, stubborn, frowning at him. What first are you talking about here?

“You know it’s not that-“

“Say you don’t want to and I’ll drop it.” You say sternly, giving him the hard choice. You don’t know how you got stuck on this, or even if your reasoning or actions were making sense. All you know is you want to kiss your best friend, and you want him to want it too.

He groans, almost a whine and you feel him squeeze your sides. You get excited for a moment, thinking he’ll give in.

“Fine... I… I don’t want to.” He says finally, and looking you in the eyes when he does so you know that he’s serious this time. He can’t even believe it himself, he knows that’s a huge lie. But it’s the only way to get you to stop apparently, and it’s for your own good. Plus, this is something he hasn’t even allowed himself to fantasize about, and now it’s happening right in front of him. He’s a little scared of what this might do to him, and more importantly, your relationship. He’s also unsure if he has the self control to stop after kissing you once. Cross that first line and there’s no telling where this will end up. Maybe that’s the real reason he knows he has to hold back for your sake. One kiss wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

You go from looking hurt, and then back to angry. You push yourself up off him, coming to stand.

“Fine. Then, maybe I should go get that girl. Since I obviously ruined what you two had going on.” You shoot at him, turning towards the door. Apparently being drunk really amplifies your jealousy, which is new to you. Usually you’re very good at hiding or completely ignoring it.

“Y/n, that’s crazy. Why would I want to kiss some girl I hardly know?”

“Well you clearly weren’t against it!” You say, turning to him again with your arms crossed.

“I didn’t notice! I don’t want to kiss her!” He insists.

“Whatever!” You head for the door again, hand taking the knob. You feel him grab your other hand.

“Y/n-“

“Let go!” You shout and try to pull your arms from his grasp to no avail.

“Please. Just stop. Listen to me.” He pleads, ignoring your squirming to pull you back to him. You finally look up at him, annoyed.

“You’re my best friend. I’ve had you for as long as I can remember, and you’re right. We’ve done everything together. It would be weird to have my first with anyone else, so… I actually think, what you said.. I think it’s a good idea. I want to do it.” He tells you quickly so that you’ll hear him out. You look at him a little surprised.

“Wha..? But you just-“

“I’ll tell you what…” He stops you before you can retaliate. “If you wake up tomorrow, when you’re sober, and you still want that first kiss.. I’ll do it.”

He tells you this and you immediately believe him. You know he will, he never goes back on his word. Still, your stubborn expression doesn’t waver much.

“I promise.” He says, squeezing your hand and giving you a genuine look. That does it. You let out a sigh.

Truth is, ever since standing up, you’ve felt kind of dizzy and gross. It’s been hard to even stay focused on what you were mad about.

You lean forward, dropping into Yuta’s chest, surprising him a little.

“I don’t feel good.” You say weakly and he chuckles.

“Let’s leave, yeah?” He suggests and you nod, following as he finally opens the door and leads you down the hall. He only stops in front of the stairs when you stop, pulling his arm by staying in place. He looks back at you, confused, but understands almost immediately after seeing you. He realizes now that he must’ve underestimated just how “not good” you felt.

He takes you back towards the bathroom, gently, but with urgency. You make it there and luckily there’s no line either. He guides you in with a hand on your back, shutting and locking the door after you.

Honestly you don’t know why but you’re embarrassed by what he’s about to see. It’s not like he hasn’t seen you in terrible states before, sick, or sobbing, or depressed. But this is just, humiliating for some reason, especially after what just happened. Though it could be worse.

He of course pulls your hair back as you let it out into the toilet. He hates hearing your sounds of pain and he’s pretty sure he hears you crying as well. He wishes he could help more, but once he thinks you’re done he just gently rubs your back for a while.

“Sorry..” you mumble to him without moving and he shakes his head immediately.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.” He reassures you.

I love you. I would do this for you everytime. Is what he wishes he could say. And he so badly wants to think about everything that just happened in that bedroom, to replay it in his mind and ask questions. But he knows to save it for later. Your condition is more important right now.

Eventually people outside need to use the restroom, and it seems like you’re not going to throw up anymore, so Yuta helps you up and outside. But even then, you feel too weak to stand and you decide to sit against the hallway wall. He takes a seat next to you without question. He sits with you for a while, even after your head falls onto his shoulder and he can tell that you’re asleep.

Panda and Inumaki find you and suggest leaving, so Yuta knows he has to wake you. He shakes you slightly by the shoulder.

“Hey..” he says softly when you groan and blink your eyes a couple times hazily.

“Think you can stand?” He asks you.

You groan and nuzzle further into his shoulder.

“Mdont wantto.” You mumble into him and he smiles.

“Alright, I’m gonna carry you then, okay?” He tells you and you just hum in response.

Eventually you’re on Yuta’s back, walking outside around your school campus to get to his apartment. Most of its a blur as you fall in and out of sleep through the whole walk.

Yuta tells the two very eager-to-know boys about what he thinks happened with you and that girl, but not much about what came after with him. They say the same things his brain was trying to tell him and he kept ignoring. They say it’s obvious. That theres no such thing as “platonic jealousy” like that. But he’s still in denial.

“I’m sure it was only a platonic thing.” He says, trying to convince more than his friends, looking over and checking on you every few seconds to make sure you’re still out. “We’ve never been romantic with anyone so shes probably just nervous about what would happen. I would be too.”

They don’t believe him, and he’s not sure if he does either. But he has to. Because if tonight meant anything else, then what does that mean for you two?

Yuta decided a long time ago that he would never confess, not unless he was 100% sure of your feelings. For fear of losing this privilege to know you, to get to have you around, even if just platonically. He couldn’t bear it. Things had to stay the same.

When you get back to his apartment, he brings you straight to his bed, ready to let you sleep there and find his own place on the couch.

“Do you want to shower first? I can lend you some clean clothes.” He suggests softly as you both sit in the quiet of the room. He brushes your hair gently behind your ear so that it’s out of your face.

“You’re just saying that cus you don’t want me to get all my sweat and stuff on your sheets.” You accuse, but he can tell it’s not hostile at all. You’re not mad anymore.

“I don’t care about that, I can just do laundry tomorrow. But I think it’d feel better for you that way.” He tells you honestly and you sigh. He knows you don’t want to.

“I just wanted to remind you that you can, you don’t have to. But you know what’s mine is yours here, right? If you need anything just go ahead.” He says sweetly and you hum, finally moving to lay down, resting your head on his pillow. It smells like Yuta. You nuzzle into it further.

“Okay.. I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.” He tells you with a chuckle.

“Wait.” You say before he can get to the door. He turns to you.

“Mwhere are you goin?” You mumble sleepily. His heart melts.

“Just to the living room. I’ll sleep on the couch so don’t worry, okay?”

“Come here.” You tell him bluntly and he does. When he gets to the bed you pat the spot next to you. His face flushes.

“What? You want me to sleep here??”

“Mhm.”

“With you?”

“Just lay down, Yu.. I wanna sleep.” You groan, too exhausted to be explaining or convincing. You just want him next to you.

And then he’s laying next to you.

This shouldn’t be awkward, you guys have napped together before. But that was a long time ago, and things feel different now. He’s so unsure of where to put his hands or how to position himself until you decide for him. You reach out and pull yourself into him, arms wrapping around him and legs tangling. He naturally just curls around you all the same, feeling your breath on his chest as you easily lull into sleep like this. It’s a bit hard to think about anything but how soft and warm you are for a little while, hot and flustered from how intimate this feels and scared to mess it up. But, he does feel more comfortable after. How could he not? The way you sleep so peacefully in his arms sends him off to sleep not long after you.

The morning after that night is the start of his guilty conscience.

When he wakes up sporting a full hard-on, he’s incredibly glad you’re not in a position to have noticed it. He had the craziest dream about you, and waking up face to face to you afterwards could not make him feel anymore mortified and embarrassed. How could he? Have a wet dream about you when you’re sleeping RIGHT next to him.

And the thoughts he’s having about you right now as he watches you so innocently sleep, blissfully unaware to his thoughts.

It’s horrible.

It’s exciting. No, it’s perverted.

Even with all his self control in previous years, you can’t really control what you dream about, can you? Sure, he’s had dreams like these about you before. But he’s read on the internet that people have wet dreams about random people too, people they’ve never even considered like that! So he doesn’t count it.

But it’s when he’s sliding out of bed to take care of things in the bathroom, trying to relieve himself to anything but the thought of you. He just can’t think of anything else good enough. He wants to think about you so bad. The way you were all over him last night, so many opportunities where he could’ve told you how he feels. He could’ve told you want he wanted from you so badly instead of denying it.

When he was tipsy, body pressed against you and music pumping in his ears. His face tucked into your neck, breathing in your scent clearer than anything and feeling your hands stretched around his back. He even could’ve told you then, that he loved you. How badly he wanted you in that moment too, his desires bubbling up so bad that he could practically beg for you. And maybe you would’ve at least humored him, giggled at his drunken daze and been so gracious as to grant him more of you.

Or what would’ve happened if he had let you do what you wanted? In that bedroom, alone just the two of you, with you in his lap. Would you really have stopped after one kiss?

And then snippets from his dream start to cross his mind. You in the same dress last night that he tried so incredibly hard not to think about too much, how it hugged every curve of your body and made your breasts look so nice. And in that dream, the dirty things you said to him between kisses on his neck while you stroked his length.

“Does that feel good, Yu? You wanna cum for me?”

“Yes.. ffucyes..” He mumbles to himself as his pace gets faster. Somehow it ended up like this, not sure when he even started to touch himself, but far past the headspace to care. He feels his climax already, the thought of you making him so unbelievably excited.

In his mind you’re on top of him, bouncing on his cock in all your glory in that beautiful dress that you love. And he could admire anything else right now but all he wants to see is the look on your face. He wants to see how good he can make you feel, not holding back anything at all.

“Fuck, Yu… That feels so good.. I love you..” You’d whine for him and he can feel his pleasure spilling over.

“Y/n… godfuck.. I love you, I love you.” He chants to himself as quietly as he can manage as his hips start to jerk up and stutter. His climax hits and normally he’d be ready to catch his load in his hands, but it rips through him so urgently and suddenly that it manages to catch him offguard.

He stares at the scene in front of him, the mess he made. His breathing is shaky and uneven. His heartbeat doesn’t slow as he starts to realize what he just did. He just jerked off thinking about you, shamelessly, while you’re literally a room away. How could he? What would you think of him if you found out about this? You’d probably think he’s a huge pervert and never talk to him again, right?

You always understood him, but this is unforgivable.

The guilt eats him alive, even after he’s cleaned up and started making breakfast. Trying to distract himself with tasks and chores, he can’t even bring himself to go back to his room and face you as he keeps thinking about the awful thoughts his mind willingly conjured about you. There’s no excuse now. And even in his guilt, he can’t stop thinking about how good that felt. He’s never felt that good thinking or looking at anything else when pleasuring himself. This is bad. He could get addicted to this. He wants to do it again right now, actually. Is that horrible?

“Yu?” Your voice startles him so bad that he jumps, almost throwing the frying pan in his hold. He turns to see your still fogged-with-sleep self standing before him. You’re still in that dress.

“H-hey. You’re up! I’m… making breakfast. Are you hungry?” He says, nervous for some reason. Like you’d be able to tell immediately just by looking at him what he’s done, smell the pervertedness and deceit on him.

“Mm.. That sounds nice.” You just smile and then let out a small yawn. You’re so adorable. What has he done? “I’m gonna shower first, is that okay?”

Another wave of anxiety rushes through him as he starts to overthink whether or not he cleaned up enough in there. Which is dumb, because he literally scrubbed any evidence possible off the floor with diligence. But maybe you’d find something anyways.

“Oh.. um.. yeah, go ahead. You know I don’t mind.” He says after maybe a little too long of a pause.

He waits for you to come out again with breakfast laid out on the coffee table in front of him. He mindlessly scrolls on his phone to keep his thoughts busy with something, anything else.

When you step out again, you’re wearing one of his t-shirts he almost never wears and seemingly his boxers as well, though he can’t see them very well from how far the shirt falls. He has to act like he’s reading something very interesting on his phone to avoid looking at you, his face blushing. This should be just a regular morning for you two and yet why does it feel like like you just-

“Fuck, I needed that shower! I feel so much better” You tell him as you take a seat by his side.

He smiles, putting his phone down now.

“I’m glad.” He watches you sip down some of the water in front of you, eyes shamefully trained on your lips. “And.. how are you feeling?”

“I feel fine! Don’t worry. I think I probably puked up all the alcohol in my system last night. If anything I’m just hungry. And thirsty.” You tell him as you poke your fork into a piece of pancake on your plate, and then catching yourself.  “Oh. Sorry, that’s kinda gross to say right before we eat. Thank you for the food by the way.”

You look at him and smile so sweetly that it makes Yuta forget about all the thoughts plaguing him for a moment. He laughs at your words.

“You’re welcome. But you should eat as much as you can before the other two get out here and devour it all.”  He jokes and starts eating as well. You let out a small laugh and nod in agreement.

“You’re right, I forgot they live here.”You say and you’re only half kidding. “That’s why you made so much, huh? I got worried you were expecting me to finish this, but I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Yuta laughs and shakes his head, taking another forkful of eggs. After that the conversation kinda dies as the two of you just enjoy your delicious breakfast.

A few minutes of silence go by before he decides to speak up.

“So.. do you remember much about last night?” He asks you and you turn to him with a curious look. “I know that sometimes if you drink too much it can affect your memory.. so I was just wondering.”

He knows he’s probably blushing a bit now. There’s a real reason why he’s asking you, right?

“Oh. Well, yeah I’m pretty sure I remember most of it. Some of it is maybe a little foggy.” You tell him after thinking for a moment. When you look at him again, he’s staring at you. You laugh a little.

“If you’re wondering if I remember the almost-fight and all that, I definitely do. Though I kinda wish I didn’t.” You joke, but not really kidding. Deep down you are a little mortified about what you did. Moreso with Yuta than with that girl, but still even then you only caused that scene because of your jealousy over Yuta. Does he know you like him that way now? Did you give yourself away?

“Ah.. I see.” He says awkwardly and your guilt pangs in you.

“Yuta.. I’m really sorry about last night.” You say finally and he looks at you kinda surprised. “I mean I did a lot of embarrassing things that weren’t too bad, could just be written off as those funny things I did at my first party, yknow? But..”

You play with the food on your plate a little, not quite able to look at him.

“But I did something really not okay with you. I.. I was forcing myself on you and you were clearly uncomfortable, right? I don’t even know what I was thinking.. I would never..” You start to apologize, but kind of struggle with how to put it. How can you even explain yourself for something like that? Isn’t it obvious?

“Hey, it’s okay.” He says gently, putting your nerves to rest with just one phrase as he puts his warm hand on yours. You look over at him to see him smiling fondly. How can he forgive you so easily?

“It wasn’t like that. I know you weren’t in the right headspace. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t.. do something you’d regret, yknow?” He explains like youre sure he said to you similarly last night. You ended up being regretful anyways, but you suppose this is best case scenario. You cant imagine if you had kept forcing yourself on him then, probably ruining your relationship forever. You’re thankful that your best friend is as sweet and forgiving as he is.

“Thank you.. I still think it was wrong though. I’ll make it up to you.” You promise him and go back to eating.

You don’t bring up the kiss at all. Even though you remember exactly what he told you last night.

“If you wake up tomorrow, when you’re sober, and you still want that first kiss.. I’ll do it.”

You believe him. You know he would, and it scares you. It scares you because you know you might not be able to control yourself if you open that door. Anything could happen after. You’re scared.

Yuta doesn’t bring it up for the same reason. And he doesn’t ask you about your reasonings or motives for why you did what you did that night either. Like why seeing some other girl almost kiss him made you so angry that you offered to take his first instead. No, even though his mind yearned for answers, he was also too scared to look for them. Afraid of what he might find or what trap he might set off.

So, neither of you bring it up. You act like it was all meaningless. Just drunk nonsense with no actual motive behind it.

But even so, that night ends up changing your relationship forever.

[minimumbraincel]

GoNana childhood friends AU friends to enemies to lovers slow burn angst mutual pining idiots in love WHEN? 😩💔

(Reposted from my Twitter)

(posted two years ago but I still consistently get notifs on it so I thought I'd share it here too)