#faded skinny jeans

[lovebugism]

shy!reader goes to the pool with Eddie and is too afraid to wear her swimsuit in front of him? Maybe she’s wearing clothes over her bikini/one piece and doesn’t want to undress at first because of her nerves lol

hope u like it! — you still get a little nervous showing your body, but eddie takes it all in stride (shy!fem!r, established relationship, cw for mentions of body insecurity, 1.1k)

Eddie’s rubber flip-flops are much too big on your feet. You fight to keep them on and match his longer strides at the same time. He leads you down the scenic trail of the Harrington vacation home with one hand curled intently around your own. He doesn’t seem phased by the dirt clinging to his bare feet.

“Think Steve’s folks will get mad if we skinny dip?” he jokes over his shoulder, wild curls billowing in the late afternoon wind.

You shrug. “I don’t think they own the lake, so…”

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” he scoffs.

“Me neither,” you concur with a quiet laugh.

A set of wooden steps lead off the trail and towards the shore. They creak under your weight, ancient and half-eroded with time. Eddie stands beside you on the dock, lips curled into a pink, lopsided smile. “Well, what they don’t know won’t hurt ‘em,” he quips before reaching for the hem of his shirt.

You giggle when he lifts the fabric up and over his head. His milky white torso is left on display for you, sprinkled with sparse hair and a couple of faded tattoos. His body is lanky and lean — stomach soft with gentle pudge where his happy trail begins. You couldn’t hide your leering if you wanted to.

“You’re crazy,” you say, still laughing.

“Crazy for you,” the boy croons. 

You watch him reach for the buttons of his jeans, fumbling with them for a moment. Your chest swirls with a strange, hollow feeling. “Wait— Are you serious?” you wonder with wide, glimmering eyes. You’ve never felt totally comfortable swimming in a bathing suit, let alone naked.

Eddie shrugs his freckled shoulders and tugs his jeans down his scruffy thighs. “Yeah. Why not?”

He’s left in his thin, plaid boxers now. He doesn’t seem nearly as fazed by it as you do. Heart thrumming like an anxious hummingbird, your eyes dart over your shoulder and back to him. “What if the others see?!”

“Then let ‘em see,” he chuckles, golden like the early setting sun. “Who cares?”

I care, you almost say, ‘cause you’re too pretty, and I’m not pretty enough. 

You swallow your loathing and instead reply, “Steve would never let you live it down if he caught you out here. You know that.”

Eddie’s bare feet pad against the creaking wooden dock. The sound is mostly drowned out by the waves ebbing and flowing beneath you. Nothing could hide the heavenly sound of his laughter, though. “What? That I’m skinnydipping with the prettiest girl in Indiana?” the boy retorts with a boyish chuckle. “I wouldn’t want him to let me live it down.”

You swallow hard, not swayed by the compliment. Your unsure gaze flits to your feet and the black sandals Eddie lent you on the way down. You see his paler, bare ones come into view just before his calloused palms smooth over your waist — above the oversized t-shirt you wear, which also belongs to the boy in front of you.

“I’m just… I’m just kidding, you know? About the skinnydipping thing,” Eddie assures you, suddenly serious and much quieter with it. His head ducks down to catch your falling gaze. His chocolate eyes sparkle beneath the yellow sun. His lips curl into a lopsided smile. “We don’t have to do it if it makes you uncomfortable. We never have to do anything you don’t want, you know that.”

You purse your lips to the side and think for a moment. You’re not nearly as at ease swimming naked as he is, but you’d be silly to turn down the opportunity to be alone with him. You have spent the entire weekend babysitting, after all.

“Can I keep my bathing suit on?” you wonder sheepishly.

Eddie scoffs. “Of course you can! You can do whatever you want, doll. I’m followin’ your lead here.”

He smacks a kiss to your lips, mouth tasting of nicotine, soda, and strawberries — like nostalgia and springtime.

“Can you turn around?”

Eddie meets your coy look with a wider smile. “Yeah. Sure,” he hums and steps back from you to spin on his heel. You know he’ll see you in your bathing suit before you step foot in the water, but you’ve always felt distinctly smothered by his gaze. You don’t feel half deserving of the adoration always swimming in the deep brown of them.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, you know?” he quips without looking at you.

“It’s different,” you insist, pulling your t-shirt up and over your head. You fold it neatly before setting it gingerly on the dock. You’re left in the pretty one-piece you thrifted before the trip — a floral number that dips low at the chest and ties into a bow at the back.

Eddie doesn’t really understand, but he figures he doesn’t have to. He’ll do whatever makes you most comfortable, no questions asked. “Sure,” he nods. “Can I look now?”

You hesitate for a reason you can’t name. You feel more at ease with Eddie than anyone else in the whole wide world — and besides the fact that he’s seen you in much, much less — you shouldn’t be as nervous as you are now.

“Yeah…” you waver.

Eddie peeks at you over his shoulder for a moment before turning to face you fully. His pink lips purse and a low whistle sounds between them. “Damn,” he mumbles.

You fight back a smile and look away from him, wringing your anxious hands into a knot. “Hush…”

“You’re a total smokeshow, baby.”

“Eddie!”

“Don’t know why you wanna hide from me so bad…” he teases lowly, gravitating towards you without thinking. His hands are warm and wide as they smooth over your sides. His palms curl around your lower back and idle there, fingers lingering just above your ass. “All I wanna do is look at you, and you won’t even let me…” he jokes, mostly serious, but with a playful pout on his lips.

Your arms cross between your bodies. You glare up at him with pretty doe eyes that swim with all the love you have for him. You couldn’t pretend to be annoyed if you tried. “It’s ‘cause you’re so nice…”

His brows raise and disappear behind his fluffy bangs. “You’re shy because I think you’re hot?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “It’s weird.”

“Maybe,” Eddie laughs. He figures it’s on-brand enough for him, as the resident freak and all. But loving you has never felt unnatural or strange. It feels normal, like an instinct he’s always had, something he’s always been destined to do. So he just tilts his pretty head and smiles sweetly down at you. “Can’t help it, though.”

[unclewaynemunson]

If there is one thing Eddie Munson is good at, it's hyperfixating. He can spend hours upon hours wholly entranced by whatever it is that has his attention, whether it's a newly discovered band or a book series he's reading or some random new interest he likes to immerse himself in. It's something Steve, who himself has the attention span of a goldfish, will never really understand, but that's okay: even without understanding it, it's one of the things he loves about Eddie.

Some of Eddie's obsessions fade just as quickly as they appear, but others stay with him for years. So when he reaches a 1000-day streak on Duolingo learning Elvish, Steve has a surprise for him: two tickets for a Lord of the Rings convention in Chicago. The second ticket is not for Steve – they enjoy their own separate interests just fine without the other's involvement – but for Dustin, and the two of them wave goodbye to Steve with a suitcase filled with nerdy costumes and matching excited sparks in their eyes.

Eddie returns a few days later filled with stories about all that he and Dustin got up to.

'Guess who we met at the convention,' is one of the first things he tells Steve. He's bouncing around with excitement, too impatient to even wait for Steve's first guess. 'The guy who created the Elvish Duolingo course! And guess what? He lives in Indianapolis! I'm having lunch with him next week!'

And it's cool, Steve is happy that Eddie met his hero and made a new nerd friend out of him, he truly is – until Eddie shows him the picture that Dustin took of the two of them.

Here's the thing: Steve is not a jealous person. Not at all. He knows that jealousy is a gross thing to feel and he can't even imagine not trusting Eddie. But... he had not expected Eddie's lame nerd idol to have amazing hair, a lip piercing, and muscles in all the right places. The guy looks like a freaking model. And usually, that wouldn't bother Steve – he knows he's not exactly ugly himself – but usually he doesn't have to compete with guys who speak Elvish fluently.

'You should come with me, we can all hang out together,' Eddie suggests. 'I'm sure you'll love him.'

Steve is hesitant about it, but Eddie refuses to take no for an answer, and that's how Steve ends up at Vikram's house for lunch two weeks later.

Eddie gasps loudly when Vikram leads them into his living room, clutching a dramatic hand to his chest in true Eddie fashion. Steve knows it's not all theatrics, though: there's no way a room like this wouldn't genuinely impress Eddie. It's dark and filled with big leather furniture. Framed posters for various metal bands and horror movies hang on the walls. There are shelves filled with big fantasy books, and every corner of the room has a display cabinet filled with what seem to be collectors' items for various series.

If Steve had been hoping for Vikram to look more like a stereotypical nerd in real life, he would be severely disappointed: the guy looks amazing in a leather jacket that would fit perfectly in Eddie's own collection and black skinny jeans that show off a truly amazing pair of legs, making Steve feel oddly self-conscious about the couple of pounds he gained since he left his high school sports days behind him.

While they're having lunch – Vikram bakes his own bread and it's so good that Steve doesn't think he can ever stop eating – Eddie and Vikram enthusiastically talk each other's heads off about all things Tolkien. Steve, on the other hand, grows more quiet as time passes, not really following along and sure as hell not able to give any contributions to the topic at hand.

'Did you ever try to learn some Sindarin as well, Steve? Or are you more of a Quenya guy?' Vikram asks him in what is no doubt a well-meant attempt to include Steve in the conversation.

Steve hastily swallows a big mouthful of bread and feels his cheeks heat up.

'I never read those books,' he sheepishly confesses.

'Oh!' Vikram's eyes widen and Steve can practically see him think: You never bothered to show any interest in one of your boyfriend's favorite things?

'Well, I mean, I tried,' Steve rushes to explain himself. 'But I um, I couldn't really keep my attention to it. They're a bit difficult to read. For me.' Somehow, explaining it only makes him feel worse about it.

'Oh, yeah, I get it, man. Those books aren't for everyone.'

There is no meanness or hidden insult behind his words. But Steve only feels more like an outsider while Eddie asks Vikram some incomprehensible question that has Vikram giving an in-depth explanation about the difference between two words that literally sound the same to Steve's ears. And when Eddie laughs about a joke that goes way over Steve's head, then says something in that stupidly beautiful nerd language which prompts a laugh from Vikram in return, Steve is reminded in full force how ugly of an emotion jealousy is.

They say goodbye – Eddie says something in Elvish again and Steve has to watch Vikram laugh a joyous laugh about it again – and Steve is quiet during the drive back home.

'Is something wrong?' Eddie asks when they're home, perceptive as always.

'No,' Steve lies.

'Stevie, c'mon.' Eddie studies Steve's face intently, a frown between his eyebrows just barely hidden by his bangs. 'What's going on?' Something in his expression shifts. 'Wait. You didn't like Vikram, did you? Did you hate him?'

'No, I didn't hate him!' Steve is quick to say. 'He's awesome, Eddie, he's perfect and smart and funny and perfect.'

Eddie narrows his eyes like Steve said something weird.

'Why did you say he's perfect twice?'

Steve huffs and runs a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. 'Just drop it, Eddie.'

'No, I'm not dropping it.' Eddie crosses his arms. 'What are you not telling me?'

Steve sighs. 'Okay, I didn't want to bother you with this, because it's my problem and not yours, and jealousy is an ugly emotion, but–'

'You're jealous of Vikram?'

'I mean, he's like, super hot, and he has this cool house, and he loves the same things as you, and you can speak your cool nerd language with him, while I'm too dumb to even read your cool nerd books and–'

'Steve,' Eddie interrupts him. 'You have no reason to be jealous.'

'I just...' Steve pauses, pinches the bridge of his nose. He finally manages to voice the thought that has been eating at him ever since he met Vikram. 'I don't want you to wake up someday and wish that you were with someone as smart as you are.'

The way Eddie's breath catches is barely noticeable. Then, he reaches out and gently places his hands on Steve's shoulders.

'I am with someone as smart as I am,' he says softly.

Steve scoffs.

'No, it's true,' Eddie presses on. 'Okay, so you don't enjoy reading Tolkien, and you don't speak Elvish. I don't care about that, man. I love the way you think. I love your inexhaustible knowledge of weird sports facts. I love how precise you are about weighing ingredients when you're baking something. I love your through-the-roof emotional and social intelligence.' He lifts one hand off of Steve's shoulder to pet his head, almost as if he's some kind of animal. 'You got a pretty big brain in there, no matter what you tell yourself, Stevie. And that's why I love you, more than anyone who speaks Elvish fluently.'

Steve tugs Eddie closer until their bodies are pressed against each other, his arms around Eddie's waist and his head resting on Eddie's shoulder.

'I don't think anyone has ever called me smart before,' he quietly admits.

'Well, I'll do it more often, then,' Eddie replies. 'Cause you are.'

(I wrote this because @undreaming-rambles has reached the unbelievable milestone of a 1000-day duolingo strike today. obviously that called for a silly fanfic celebration moment, congrats on your incredible perseverance aneta 💖 and credit where credit is due: this one was inspired by an episode of my beloved comfort show brooklyn 99)

[fox-guardian]

[ID: Digital drawings of the OIAR staff from The Magnus Protocol as anthropomorphic cats on a gray background. They are all full body drawings. Sam is a black and white tuxedo cat, Alice is an orange and white cat with a bob tail, Celia is a Cornish Rex with a purple and white mottled "salty licorice" coat. Teddy is a brown British shorthair, Colin is a light brown Lykoi, Gwen is a fluffy diluted calico, and Lena is a shorthaired grey tabby with a bob tail.

The first image shows Sam, Alice, and Celia. Sam is shorter and fat, and he has curly black hair, and he is smiling with his hand held in front of him lightly touching. He is wearing a cream mockneck shirt, dark brown cardigan, and dark red trousers. Alice is tall and lanky, and she has shaggy light brown hair with faded pink tips, two pairs of silver earrings and snakebites, and she is wearing a burgundy bra, a patchwork skirt made of flannels in shades of gray, brown, and pink, a few bracelets, and pink cat-eye glasses and pink painted claws. She is slouching slightly with one arm crossed over the other, smiling and waving. Celia is slightly less tall and slim, and has short black hair, gold industrial piercings, X-shaped earrings and snakebite studs. She is wearing a light green button-down, purple vest with gold buttons, dark green trousers, a black cuff on her wrist, and rectangular glasses. She is standing and facing slightly to the side, with one hand around her back holding her other arm while that hand fidgets.

The second image is of Teddy and Colin. Teddy is fat and has a goatee and mustache, and small gold hoop earrings. He is wearing a gold and brown argyle sweater vest, a pale yellow button-down, a gold tie, and brown belt and trousers. He is smiling and waving with his other hand holding onto the side of his belt. Colin is skinny with pale skin visible through patches of fur, and he has a mustache, large cat whiskers, blue eyes, and small silver earrings. He is wearing a yellow t-shirt under a blue button-down and light brown hoodie, blue jeans with brown knee patches, a couple bracelets, and rectangular glasses with yellow lenses. He is snarling and hunched with his ears back and claws bared, looking furious.

The third image shows Gwen and Lena. Gwen is shorter and mid-sized with long blonde hair in a ponytail, and she is wearing a white button-down, gray sweater, and black pencil skirt. Her hands are balled into fists at her sides and looks annoyed at the viewer. Lena is taller and slim, with light brown hair in a bun, and silver oval glasses on a chain. She is wearing a red button-down, a brown belt, and white trousers. She has a neutral expression and one arm crossed over the other while the free hand lifted and fidgeting with her claws.

The fourth image is a lineup of all of them. In order: Sam, Alice, Celia, Gwen, Colin, Teddy, Lena. end ID]

~~~~

the magnyas protocol. protocat. catocol. catnus protocol. k. kitties <3

[jjkarmy091]

The boyfriend Game- Jungkook (1)

synopsis: You never thought that fighting for a position in JV's team would end up with you falling for the guy who was helping you out with it, especially since he had the same rule as you: no date, no romance, just socceer

> pairing: Soccer playerJungkook x (f) reader

> genre: romance, strangers to friends to lovers; angst; fluff

> word count: 13.727

> Author's note: this is an adaptation of one of my favourite books. A couple days ago I came across it again I thought it'd be perfect for a Jungkook adaptation, since I can see him behaving like this. Hope you like it as much as I do <3

The afternoon sun was beating down on my shoulders as I watched an evil leer light up the face of my best friend, Jennie Kim. Her long legs were like sticks below her shorts, and there was the faintest gleam of sweat over the upturned nose that she swore was her only decent feature.  

“Just try and stop me, Y/n,” she taunted, her dark curls bouncing with each step. 

“Just try and get by me,” I shot back, grinning as she got closer. It might be just a routine one-on-one drill on a Thursday afternoon of JV soccer practice, but it was always a lot more than that when I was going one-on-one with her.  

Jennie was better than me at soccer even tho she didn’t even try. I busted my butt of and she was still better. She hated the fact that over the summer, I’d gotten a real figure and she was still as skinny as ever, so we were even. Especially since we’d totally make the trade if we could. She’d take all the attention I got from guys in a heartbeat, and I’d give that up in a minute if I could have her soccer skills. Actually, I’d give it up in a minute for free, if I could. Only six weeks into my freshman year of high school and already I was tired of the boys treating me differently than they used to.  

Jennie’s smile faded into concentration, and I focused on every angle of her body, trying to anticipate what move she’d pull to try to get past me. My muscles tensed, and I felt the zip of adrenaline that I loved, the sensation of power that had me running for the soccer field every afternoon, totally pumped to sweat and yell and forget about all the baggage of my day at school. On the soccer field, it wasn’t about boys and girls or how I looked it was about how good you were. It was my favorite place to be. 

“Hey Y/n. Looking good out there!”  

Jennie sucked in her breath, and I scowled at the sound of Taehyung’s obnoxious voice, not even bothering to glance at the sidelines where I knew he’d be standing with his loyal shadow, Jimin. Probably wearing Nike sunglasses, baseball hats, and faded jeans, like they always did, knowing just how to dress to look good. 

Well, they were cute, but they were also idiots, so I shut them out and concentrated on Jennie. Her gaze flicked towards Tae and I grinned. Oh, she was so busted. Keep yelling, Tae. One little distraction was more than enough for me to take her out. 

“Y/n! Hey, Y/n Perkins! You gonna come to Pop’s tonight with me or what?” Tae shouted. 

Jennie scowled at me. I bit my lip and quickly adjusted to her sudden increase in intensity. Great. So now she was going to take it out on me that he was yelling my name and not hers. Classic Tae, always screwing up my life. 

Jennie'scheeks turned pink and she shot a quick look in his direction. I lunged forward to take advantage of the distraction, my cleats grabbing the turf as I plucked the ball from between her feet. She spun around and I dodged her, making a snarky face at Tae, who was yelling something about how he liked my new haircut. He should be shouting about my great steal, not making some stupid comment about my hair. It was then when I noticed a guy standing next to him and Jimin. 

He was way taller than them, had short dark hair and a few tattos on his arm. He was wearing soccer cleats and shorts that showed off his oh-so-muscular soccer legs. He was holding a soccer ball against his hip, his arm hanging loosely over it. Who the heck was he? 

Before I knew it, Jennie was next to me, her feet were on the ball, then I went flying. I threw up my arms as I went skidding on my left hip and wound up in a face-plant in the grass. She crowed in victory and I rolled to a sitting position, spitting grass out of my mouth. Tae and Jimin howled with laughter, and I immediately glanced over to them. To the mysterious guy. 

Who was gone. 

I made a quick scan of the fields, but I didn’t see him anymore. Where’d he go? 

My other best friend, Sana, walked up and peered down at me. She was wearing cleats and a tee shirt like I was, but she was still clean. No sweat, no dirt. Not that it was a surprise as she only played JV soccer to hang out with us. I played to play for real. Jennie played . . . well . . . I was never quite sure with her anyway. 

“You almost had her,” Sana said. I sighed.

“I know.” It was always almost when it came to beating Jennie at soccer. 

Sana held out her hand and pulled me up. “I mean, you did have her, and then you let her come back and get you. What was up with that?” As if I were going to tell her that I’d let a boy distract me. That was their move not mine. Actually, it was totally embarrassing, so I shrugged. 

“I felt bad for her. Didn’t want to show her up with Tae watching.” Sana snorted.  

“Yeah, right. You have no mercy on the soccer field.” 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” My thigh was burning big-time, so I hiked up my shorts and inspected the raspberry that started up by my hip and went halfway down my thigh. It was already bright red. I grinned, loving the badge of honor it gave me.  

Despite what Tae might think, there was so much more to me than what I looked like. I was a warrior! “There goes my plan to wear a miniskirt tomorrow,” I joked. 

The guys yelled and whistled so I pulled my shorts back down to cover my leg, my cheeks suddenly hot. Guys were so annoying! 

Sana raised both her eyebrows. They were carefully shaped to augment her bright blue eyes, courtesy of a makeover by Jennie last weekend that had ended up with all of us sporting highlights and new haircuts. Not that you could tell with me, except for the fact that some of the layers weren’t staying in my ponytail very well. Well, you could see the auburn highlights in the darker brown of my natural hair color, but that was it. 

“You’ve never owned a skirt in your life,” Sana said. I grinned. I definitely wasn’t a skirt girl.  

“Nice raspberry.” Jennie flounced toward us, shooting a flirtatious grin in the direction of the sidelines. “Totally uncool to take advantage of me when Tae distracted me. If I hadn’t beaten you in the end, I’d make you kiss my toes.” A reference to when we were little and dorky, and we used to make the other one actually kiss our toes when we made up from a fight, or after one of us did something mean to the other. 

“There would have been no toe kissing,” I shot back. “It’s your own fault for not paying attention.” 

She was wearing a fitted tee shirt and spandex shorts and was having a successful trial with her new water-proof makeup. She was tall, thin, and had thick curly hair—everything that Sana wasn't, with her short, stock-ier figure, although she was blond and we knew Jennie would kill for Sana’s straight, golden locks. 

They were both totally cute and into the guys. I mean, Jennie had dropped her notebook last week and I’d seen that she’d written Taehyungs name all over the inside cover, not that she’d ever admit it out loud. And Beth was right there with her in checking the guys out. They both spent ten minutes doing their makeup before practice, in hopes of getting guys to yell at them. 

Coach Merrill blew her whistle. “I have an announcement to make everyone. As you know every season at the end of October, I pick two girls from JV to move up to varsity for the rest of the season. Two weeks from this Friday, we’ll be having tryouts with the varsity practice. The top five girls on JV will be invited to that practice but only two will move up.” 

No way! Varsity, how great! My heart started racing as I inched closer so I wouldn’t miss any of the details. 

“So, I wanted to announce the five short-listed players, so you can tell me if you’re interested in being considered.” 

I stole a glance at Jennie. She was better than I was, but she didn’t work nearly as hard. Would Coach take that into account? Five spots weren’t many when there were over forty girls on the squad. Lookig at my best  friend I notice her paying more attention to the guys looking at us than to coach Merryl. I adored her but honestly I don’t think she should be one of the selected.  

“The players I’m considering are Kathleen Hoffman , Heidi Maxwell , “Vicky Conant . . .” 

Jennie leaned over. “Sana, I think Jimin is checking you out.” She smacked her on the arm. “No way! Really?” She turned bright red and immediately turned her back on the boys.  

“Y/n, you look at them and tell me if she’s lying.” 

“Shut up!” I stepped away from them, straining to listen as the other girls on the team started whispering. 

“Jennie Kim . . .” 

I bit my lip against the sudden swell of jealousy as I heard Sana squeal behind me. Great.  

“And Y/n Perkins.” Yes! Sana threw her arms around me.  

“That’s so awesome! You guys are too cool!” 

Coach said something about practice being over for the day, but I didn’t hear her. My heart was pounding too loudly. It was going to be two long weeks, but you’d make it. It was your dream . You had to get it.  

Jennie got quiet as Tae leaned over us. “Competition among friends,” he teased. “Who’s going to win? Y/n or Jennie? Are we going to have a girl fight?” I rolled my eyes.  

“Shut up.” See? This is why I avoided guys like him. Total idiots. Where were the congratulations? The appreciation for being picked for the short list? 

“You wish, Taehyungie.” Jennie giggled. “But we’ll be sure to call you if we do.” Sana and I exchanged a groan, then he grabbed my hand and tugged me to my feet before I could jerk away from him.  

“How about going to Pop’s for a little celebration, Y/n? A little dancing, maybe?” His gaze flicked to my hair. 

 “A quick shower and a change of clothes and you’ll be smoking.” I yanked my hand out of his grip. 

 “No, thanks.” Pop’s was the local hangout for the kids at our high school. They served great pizza, had free refi lls on soda, and owned a sweet jukebox stocked with all the best tunes, including the newest JamieX CD. 

I’d been so psyched to start going there once we were freshmen, but lately it totally bummed me out. It was all about guys being loud and obnoxious and checking out the girls, and girls worrying about their hair and their makeup and giggling at the guys.  

“I’m going to practice some more.” 

“Practice?” he laughed. “Are you kidding? It’s Thurdsay night. Time to party.” Jennie fluffed her hair and smiled at him. 

 “I’ll go to Pop’s with you. Y/n might be antisocial, but I’m not.” I frowned at her remark. She hadn’t made comments like that before this fall, when Taehyung had started noticing me.  

“I take soccer seriously. That’s a good thing.” 

“Unless it gets in the way of fun,” she said. “Come on, Sana, let’s go shower.” She gave him a special smile. 

“We’ll be ready in twenty minutes. Can you wait?” 

“Sure.” He took another look at me, then headed off toward the gym with Jimin. I leveled a look at Sara. 

 “I’m not fun?” 

“If you pick soccer over hanging out with Tae at Pop’s then yes.” I folded my arms, a sudden hope flaring in my chest. 

“So, does that mean you’re going to turn down Coach for the varsity thing?” She glanced at wher the guys were then met my gaze. “Do you want me to?” 

“Ha. Of course not.” But even as I said the words, I realized I was sort of lying. If she dropped out I had a much better chance at making varsity. Iwas probably tied with Heidi as the third best on the team, behind Jennie and Kathleen. But I wanted Jennie there with me. Together, but if it came down to her or me . . . No. She was my friend. I wanted her to get it too. I swallowed hard and managed a smile. 

“Why don’t you stay and practice with me? I could really use your help to bone up on my skills in the next two weeks.” She cocked her head, actually considering it, then Tae ruined it. 

“Hey, Y/n. I’ll save you a seat in case you change your mind. You know you can’t resist me forever!” 

Jennie hesitated. “I’m going for varsity, but I’m not going to miss out on fun by staying late to practice. I’m going with them” Then she turned away and broke into a jog to run after the guys. 

It was going to be a lot harder if I had to practice by myself. I couldn’t help but watch as the girls caught up to the boys. I didn’t want them going out without me. I mean, I didn’t want to go, but I wanted them to stay with me. All girls, like it used to be. 

 I could hear their laughter all the way across the field and I coun’t help but sigh and started to get majorly depressed, then suddenly realized that the varsity girls were jogging toward me on their way to take over our field for practice.  I forgot all about my friends as I watched the varsity players start drilling. For a few minutes, I was in awe of their footwork and their ball handling skills. 

They were joking around and having fun, but they were totally serious too. I’d miss JV, but this was so my world. 

I belonged. 

Then I realized how much better they were than I was, how much I needed to improve to have a chance with them. Shoot, I didn’t belong. Not yet. Not by a long shot. Even Jennie needed to get better, and she wasn’t practicing, was she? I should run to the gym and tell her. 

I should.  

But I didn’t. She’d made her choice, right? Instead, I snagged a ball and headed over to the smaller practice field behind the equipment shed. I wanted varsity and giving up a little time with my friends rotted, but it was worth it.  

They didn’t get me, not this part of me. The part of me that loved to have grass stains on my shorts and sweat rolling down my temples. Thepart that loved being out there with the ball, in a world where nothing mattered except how you played. 

I broke into a jog, dribbling the ball in front of me, a sense of rightness settling over me as my muscles started to work. No Tahyung around to judge me and make me feel stupid for not caring about my hair. When I rounded the corner I saw the guy I’d noticed during practice. I immediately tripped on my soccer ball and went down. I popped back up, watching as he dribbled two balls through an obstacle course of cones. 

His head was down and his body loose. He had the great build that all soccer players have, with strong legs and fit upper bodies. His hair was dark and stuck to his head.  

Why hadn’t I seen him before? I knew everyone who played soccer. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t like I was going to talk to him. I picked up my ball and started to turn away to find somewhere else to practice, when the misterious guy lifted his head and looked right at me. 

And I totally forgot what I’d been about to do. 

He stopped drilling, flicked one of the balls up with his toe, then bounced it off his knee, then flipped his foot behind him and caught the ball off his heel. Damn, he was good. He bounced the ball high off his thigh, let it land on his forehead, then headed it straight up in the air, then did it again, dribbling off his forehead arms out for balance, feet moving quickly to stay under the ball. He was definitely showing off.  

I rolled my eyes and started to turn away, then saw him head the ball at me. Reacting instinctively, I spun back toward him and blocked it with my foot. He grinned and nailed the second ball at me. I headed it back toward him and he trapped it with his right foot. He fl ipped the ball up at me again with his toe and I caught it as he walked up.  

“Nice reactions,” he said. No comment about my hair or my looks? That alone was almost enough to redeem him from showing off with the hackey sack moves.  

“Thanks.” 

“What’s up?” He raised his brows in question and I noticed his eyes. Big brownished eyes and intense gaze. This guy was simply waiting for an answer. Like he actually wanted to know what I had to say.I relaxed a little bit. 

 “Soccer.” Like anything else mattered, right? He was out here practicing. He might actually understand where I was coming from. 

He nodded. “Me too. I’m Jungkook, just transferred here a couple weeks ago. You are ?” There were trickles of sweat dripping down the sides of his face. He didn’t smell bad, though. He just had the scent of sports. I liked it, I mean, I didn’t like it, like it. It just made me feel comfortable. 

“Y/n” 

He used his toe to tug my ball out from under my foot and I let him. “So what are you doing on the fields at this hour?” he asked. 

“Trying to find a place to practice. You?” He started in on the hackey sack thing again, and this time I realized that he was paying more attention to the ball than to me. Maybe he wasn’t showing off, maybe he was just doing it because he liked to do it. 

“Same here,” he said. “I need to beat out Jung Hoseok for center forward so I’m taking a little extra practice.” He bounced the ball off his right knee, then his left, then right, then left again.

“You any good?” 

“I can’t do that,” I blurted out. He grinned, showing a dimple, his gaze flicking briefl y to me before focusing on the ball again. 

 “So, that’s why you’re practicing? Because you’re terrible?” I couldn’t help but laugh.  

“No, I’m not terrible. Why? Are you terrible?” 

“Never.” He caught the ball and eyed me. “You staying around for a while?” 

“’Til it’s dark.” 

“You want to drill, or what?” 

A flash of nervousness ran through me. I swallowed, suddenly very aware that he was a guy. Was this his way of making a move on me? Yeah, not interested.  

“Um, I kinda . . . was going to do some on my own.” 

“Suit yourself then.” He turned, dropped the ball, and dribbled away. Instantly I felt a stab of regret as I watched him maneuver the cones. He’d been totally normal with me, and he was way better than I was.  

It would’ve been awesome to drill with him. Awesome because it would help my game and that’s why I was here. He peered back over his shoulder at me.  

“You coming or what?” I hesitated.  “Afraid you can’t keep up with me?” He stopped and started doing the hackey sack thing again. I smiled.

“No way.” 

“Don’t believe you.” 

I thought of the girls on varsity practicing around the corner and of my friends fooling around with the guys, leaving me behind. This kind of practice was exactly what I needed and he hadn’t seemed to even notice I was a girl. 

“Well?” 

I can handle this. “Fine.” I dropped my ball to the field, then dribbled toward him.  

“I’m in.” He flashed me a grin and then spun back toward the cones. “Follow me.” 

Five minutes later, he’d reset the cones so there were two lines. One had about twice as many cones as the other, but it was the same setup. He pointed to the one with more cones.  

“That’s my course. We’ll start at the same time and race through it, to the end and back. Loser has to run a lap.” 

I bit back a complaint about the fact he had more cones than I did. If he wanted to give himself a handicap, I’d make him pay. “Fine.” 

“If you knock down a cone, ten push-ups.” I chuckled. My adrenaline kicked in.  

“Be prepared to run a lap.” He laughed back.  

“You’d better beat me. You have half the cones I do.” 

“Oh, I will.” 

“Let’s see it, then.” He took his ball and lined up behind the start line he’d set up. I moved next to him, my muscles relaxed and my mind focused. He was so going down. Guys didn’t take girls seriously on the sports field, and he was going to learn he’d made a mistake. 

“You call it” he said. I nodded and took my stance. 

 “Ready.” 

He set his gaze on the cones. 

“Set.” 

We both tensed. 

“Go!” 

I took off, burning through the cones, listening to him breathing heavily right beside me. I pressed harder, determined to leave him behind, but he didn’t go away. The cones blurred past my feet, and I hit the end, spun around the cone and headed back, digging in as hard as I could, even as I was aware of him pulling ahead of me. 

My quads were screaming, but I pushed even more and blew through the last six cones, giving a whoop as I crossed the finish line. He was already done, his chest heaving and a big grin on his face.  

“Not bad,” he said. 

“You beat me.” I bent over, trying to catch my breath. He gave a snort of amusement.  

“If it bugs you, beat me next time.” 

“Oh, I will. Just give me a second.”  

I was pretty sure I’d never run that hard before in my life. And it rocked. He hadn’t taken it easy on me, and I loved that and as soon as the ground stopped spinning, I’d kick his butt.   Then I remembered to check my cones. All standing but two of his were down. I shot him a look and he glanced at his course.  

A flicker of surprise crossed his face and I felt a smug sense of satisfaction. He’ d been concentrating so hard on beating me that he’d messed up. 

“Drop and give me twenty, big guy.” 

“You still owe me a lap,” he grumbled, even as he dropped to the turf and started pumping.  

“Count ’em.” For a second I forgot to count as I watched his arms flex with each push up. His triceps were glistening with sweat, and the muscles were corded under his skin. He shot me a look.  

“Six,” he prompted. 

“Right. Sorry. I was gloating.” Then I realized what he’d said.  

“Nice try Jungkook. Two.” He chuckled.  

“No mercy.” But there was a respect in his voice that made me feel good. 

“Like you’re going to let me skip my lap.” I was glad when he grunted his refusal.  

“Not a chance.” 

“Didn’t think so.” 

I sat back on my heels and counted him down, already working on a strategy for my second trip through the cones. Jungkook was pushing me and I was challenging him and it was awesome. He was intense and funny and he took me seriously. 

He treated me like one of the guys, and it was the best feeling ever. None of that girl/guy stuff, just sweat, sports and competition. Exactly how I wanted it. 

An hour and a half later, it was so dark I could barely see the ball, but I wasn’t about to call it and neither was Jungkook. I’d never practiced with someone who was as intense as I was, and it made me try even harder. He’d even set up the drills so it didn’t matter that he was a better player, he was still working as hard as I was. 

I’d done more laps than him, but he’d had to do three and we’d both done so many push-ups that I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to lift my toothbrush by the time I got home. Even my legs were trembling but I wasn’t about to admit it, not with Jungkook treating me like a real athlete instead of a pretty ditz. 

I eyed him as I approached him for a little one-on-one, then faked to the left and split right, then tripped. It was too dark to see. I yelped as I landed on the ball, the leather smacking me like a gut punch. I groaned and rolled onto my back, letting my arms flop out to my sides. 

“Ouch.” Jungkook bent over me.  

“You okay?” 

“Yeah.” I struggled to sit up, not wanting to be a wimp, but I was so tired all I wanted to do was lie there in the grass. 

“Want a hand?” He held out his hand, and for a minute I hesitated. Was he trying to make a move? 

“Come on, klutz. Off your butt.” I grinned and grabbed Jungkook’s outstretched hand and let him pull me to my feet.  

“Thanks.” 

“No problem.” He flipped the ball into his hands with his toe.  

“Call it a night?” I didn’t want to, but I knew it was too dark and I was totally beat. 

“Yeah, I guess we should.” 

“Aren’t you tired?” He scooped the other ball up and tossed me one. 

“Not at all,” I lied. “You?” I rested the ball on my hip and we walked back toward the equipment shed. Just me. In the dark. Alone. With a boy.  

I cleared my throat and peeked at him, but he was bouncing the ball off alternating knees with each step. I shook my head. Like I had to worry about anything with him when he was just as single minded as I was when it came to soccer. 

“Not tired” Jungkook said. He still wasn’t looking at me. “You stay late much? I’ve never seen you out here before.” 

“Actually, this is my first time. Coach told me that she was considering bumping me up to varsity in two weeks, so I decided to stay late and do extra practice.” 

“Really?” He caught the ball and started tossing it from hand to hand as he walked.  “Sweet.” I felt a swell of pride at his tone. He got it.  

“Yeah, I’d be stoked to make varsity. I’m going to practice every day ’til she picks.”  

Man, I would love to practice with Jungkook again I’d never been pushed as hard as I’d been tonight and he’d given me some great tips. A few more sessions with him, and I’d be better than Jennie. Well, as good at least. 

We neared the building, the small fl oodlight lighting up his face. The shadows made his cheekbones prominent and his jaw look really angular, kind of strong.  

I suddenly felt intimidated and realized there was no way I’d ask him to practice again. He was on the varsity boys team. A million times better than me, no way was I going to be dumb enough to invite myself into his practice sessions.  

“So, well, thanks for tonight. It was. . .” Was what? Awesome? Hard as heck and the best night of my life? “fun.” 

“Yeah, it was good. It’s good to have some competition.” He caught the ball and gave me a thoughtful look. Not checking me out, not plotting, just normal.  

“You going to be out here again?” I eyed him, trying to figure out what he was asking.  

“I won’t get in your way.” He laughed softly. 

 “I meant, do you want to practice again? It helps me to have someone to go against.” 

Oh, wow. He wanted to practice again? With me? I almost shouted my excitement and then thought of how manic Jennie got around guys. I didn’t want to be like that, didn’t want to make Jungkook suddenly start thinking of me as a girl, so I gave a casual shrug.  

“Yeah, that’d be all right.” He tugged open the door and held it for me.  

“Same time, then?” 

“Works for me.” I slipped past him, then tossed the ball in the corner. Jungkook added his to the pile, then we walked out. He locked the door behind us and we headed toward the gym. We were about halfway to the gym when Jungkook spoke.  

“So, how come you’re not at Pop’s? I thought that’s where everyone went after school.” 

“Not everyone.” I thought of my friends there without me and scowled. He nodded.  

“Yeah, I know what you mean. The guys on the team head over there to check out the girls. I’d rather play soccer.” 

“Really?” I jerked my gaze to his face to see if he was making fun of me. 

He looked totally serious, and my heart soared. “That’s how I feel! My friends just go to hang out with the guys acting really stupid around them. I’d so much rather be out here.” 

Jungkook laughed again, a low sound that rolled through my bones.  

“They can’t be as dumb as my teammates are. It’s like they lose their brains around girls.” 

“What’s up with that?” We laugh at the same time. It was such a relief to talk to someone who thought like I did. I reached the gym door first and I hauled it open. He reached over my head and grabbed the edge.  

“Who knows? I can’t imagine choosing a girl over sports.” 

“I know what you mean!” I ducked under his arm and caught another whiff of his scent. It was all guy, with an undercurrent of soap or something. I liked it. Not that I liked it . . . okay, fine, I sort of liked it, so what? That didn’t mean I was going to turn into Jennie and Sana. 

 I appreciated him as an athlete and a guy who treated me like an equal, that was it. I took another quick inhale before I moved out of sniffing range.  

“I’d pick soccer over the scene at Pop’s any day.” 

“I hear you.” He let the door shut behind us.  

“I guess that means I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

I shoved my sweaty bangs off my face and grinned up at him.  

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m thinking I might go to Pop’s instead. . . .” He laughed.  

“Yeah, right.” He jumped down the four steps leading to the boys’ locker room, then saluted me. 

“See ya around, Y/n. It was nice meeting you.” Then he shoved open the door to the locker room and disappeared. 

I ran all the way down the hall, dancing with excitement. Not only did I have a practice partner, but he felt the same way as I did about our friends and the dating scene. 

Jungkook was just like me in everything, about  Pop’s, about dating, about guy/girls relationship, with him I didn’t have to worry about any of that intimidating stuff.  

I could even make fun of it and he didn’t think I was a freak. Plus, I was going to seriously improve my soccer if I kept practicing with him and that was what really mattered. I was so going to call my dad tonight and tell him about my chance at varsity, and how I was putting in extra practice time. 

I slammed my hip into the locker room door and shoved it open, feeling truly happy for the first time in months. 

Friday night, I found myself sitting between Sana and Jennie at the football game, listening to them detail their night at Pop’s with Jimin and Taehyung. I managed a grin. It did sound like it had been fun but honestly all I could think about was Jungkook. How he was so good with the ball and never missed a beat when it came to it. Obviously they started saying how I should have gone with them 

 “Yeah, well, I was practicing and I met this—” All of a sudden Jennie elbowed Sana and pointed at the entry where they saw Tae and Jimin walk in. For a split of second Jennie looked sad  

“Tae was checking the door for you all night,” she said, almost managing to sound like she didn’t care. “Sana how many times did he ask if Y/n was coming?” 

“Like, a zillion,” she replied. “He was sitting next to the seat we were saving for you and he wouldn’t let anyone sit there.”  The thought of Taehyung waiting for me ended all regret I had at missing out. 

“What’s his problem? Why won’t he stop bugging me?” 

“Because he likes you” Jennie said. “What’s your problem? Why won’t you give him a chance? You’re so lucky. Guys adore you, and you don’t even appreciate it.” 

“Yeah,” Sana sighed. “If I had half your chest, my life would be so much better.”  

I snorted. “Get real, the only reason Taehyung likes me is because I don’t like him back” 

“Shut up Y/n. You’re hot as hell. I’d try to smash you if I was a guy too.” Sana said and  I felt my cheeks heat up like they always did when she started talking like that.  

“Shut up.” 

Jennie leaned on her elbow, twisting around to look at me. “Seriously, do you like him or not? I mean, he seems to think you’re playing hard to get.” 

I rolled my eyes and took a bite of my hot dog. Some questions simply didn’t deserve an answer. She bit her lower lip and looked at Sana. I eyed them, realizing they were hatching some plan. I swallowed too soon, choked, and started coughing. 

“Smooth move, Y/n,” Taehyung hollered from down below. “You want me to give you some lessons on how to eat?” 

I quickly wiped my mouth as Jennie ran her fingers through her hair. “Is my makeup okay?” she whispered. 

“Perfect,” Sana said.  

“Hey, Y/n.” Tae was wearing jeans and a brown leather jacket that was actually pretty sweet. He swung his leg over the bleacher in front of me and straddled it like some cowboy wannabe sitting on his metal horse. 

“Missed you last night at Pop’s.” 

“Yeah, well, sorry I missed out. I heard you were a dead ringer for Britney.” I popped the rest of the dog in my mouth and gave him a ketchup-smirk. 

“I practiced instead you know, that thing where you run around and kick soccer balls? Much more fun.” 

Jungkook and I had practiced after school today as well and it had been awesome. A great workout and nothing else. None of this stupidness. I seriously doubted Jungkook had even noticed I was a girl which was fine with me. 

Tae gave me an obvious once over. “Well, you might have been sweaty yesterday, but you clean up good.” I snorted and rolled my eyes. Didn’t he get that he had a much better chance with me if he appreciated my soccer talents and not my hair? Not that I cared what he thought of me or especially how I looked. 

“So, Taehyungie, when are you going to do a karaoke duet with me?” Jennie tapped his leg with her toe. “You’ve got some serious dance moves.” He grinned and leaned toward her.  

“Anytime, babe. I think we’d be a perfect match.” He slanted a calculating leer at me, like he was hoping I’d be jealous. As if. If she really wanted him, and I couldn’t imagine why she did she could have him. 

I sighed and turned back to the game. Jennie was nearly hanging over my lap in her attempt to flirt with her crush, and Sana had apparently lost her ability to speak. 

Whatever. I totally should have stayed home, watching some Major League Soccer on television or something. I averted my gaze from them, scanning the bleachers for someone to go sit with but then my heart jumped. 

Jungkook was sitting in the next section, a few rows in front of us. It looked like there was a group of guys and girls with him, but he was sitting one row behind them, by himself. He was stretched out, his feet up on the bench in front of him between two girls and he was leaning back, propped up with his elbows on the bench behind him. 

He seemed to be ignoring everyone around him, focused intently on the game. His jeans were faded, his sneakers were hashed, and he was wearing a Red Sox cap backward and a red sweatshirt. It was the first time I’d seen him in anything but shorts and cleats. 

As I watched, he turned his head and looked right at me. I was so surprised that I forgot to turn away and pretend I hadn’t been staring, then he grinned and gave me a nod. Relief rushed through me and I waved back. 

“Who’s that?” Sana asked, sitting up to stare at Jungkook. 

“Who are you waving at?” Tae twisted around to see who I’d waved at. “That guy’s a sophomore. How do you know him?” Jennie shot me a weird look.

“Have you been holding out on us?”I jerked my gaze off Jungkook and fixed the cuff on my jeans.  

“His name’s Jungkook. I practice with him. It’s nothing.” 

“Nothing? He’s freaking hot.” 

Hot? I took another look at Jungkook, who was watching the game again. Really?  

He sweats a lot,” I admitted. “That’s cool, I guess.”  

“He sweats? That’s all you can say?” Jennie whistled. “Are you blind or something? He’s a total smash!” 

“Are you dating him, Y/n?” Tae inquired 

“No! Relax you guys. He plays soccer. So do I, that’s all it is. It is possible to just be friends with a guy, you know?”  

Jennie raised her brows and Sana snorted her disbelief, but Tae grinned and relaxed, then Jennie scrambled over me and plunked herself down next to him. She ran her finger along the sleeve of his leather jacket. “This leather is so soft. Where’d you get the jacket? I love it.” 

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. I loved Jennie but she was a total maniac around guys. But Tae didn’t buy into her thing. Instead, he looked up at me.  

“You going to Pop’s after the game?” 

“No. I’m going over to my dad’s.” Well, I was supposed to spend every Friday night at my dad’s, but I hadn’t heard from him this week, even after I’d left him the message about varsity.  I had a feeling I was going to be stood up again. He’d been busy lately. Really busy. Maybe I should go to Pop’s. Might be more fun than sitting home being ditched again and having my mom make chocolate chip cookies . . . again. 

Tae rested his elbow over my knees. “How about tomorrow, then? Want to hit a movie?” 

Jennie made a noise of distress and I felt bad. I knew what she was feeling because that’s how I felt about her and soccer: We both had what the other wanted. Maybe if I helped her with him, she’d cut me some slack with practicing. So I leaned down and looked right at Tae. 

“I’m not playing hard to get, pal. I’m just not interested in dating you.” 

Everyone seatted a the table turned their attention to us. Tae stared at me for a long minute, and I didn’t blink. My eye itched, but I refused to give in. Then a slow grin appeared on his face.  

“Nice try, Y/n, but it’s not going to work.” 

Argh! 

“I’m serious!” I said. He just gave me a sly look, like he was totally on to me, then he turned back to the game and pressed his shoulder against Jennie’s whispering something to her. She immediately bent her head toward him and I felt a flash of sympathy. He wasn’t ever going to like her, was he? She needed to forget about him. 

Taehyung casually leaned back against my knees, like they were a backrest. I pulled my knees to the side and he almost fell over. He raised his brows at me, and I stuck my tongue out at him. 

 “Go lean on Jimin.” 

He smirked, then turned away and slung his arm over Jennie’s shoulders, bending his head next to hers so they could whisper. She giggled, he laughed, and Sana sighed. 

I peeked at Jungkook and he was watching us. I pointed at the back of Tae’s head and made a face and Jungkook grinned at me. I smiled back, then realized Sana was looking at me. 

“What?” I asked. “He’s a friend. That’s it.” 

“No guy who’s that cute can be only a friend.” 

“He’s not that cute! He’s just a guy.” When she rolled her eyes at me, I decided to check out Jungkook again to see if I could see what she was freaking out about, but when I looked down at him, he was standing up talking to Winter, one of the cutest girls in the sophomore class. She had this long, blond hair, a perfect figure, huge blue eyes and so, of course, all the guys loved her. She was also one of those girls who always had perfect makeup and clothes that were right out of the pages of Cosmo or something. 

What was Jungkook doing talking to her? I thought he wasn’t into the girl scene. As I watched, she turned and started walking away while he followed her right down off the bleachers toward the concessions. No way. How could he be into her? She was as girly as they come. 

“So that must be his girlfriend.” Tae sat down next to me with a thump and I turned away from Jungkook and Winter. He brushed his shoulder against mine.  

“I think I’ll sit up here for a bit. You don’t mind, do you?” Jennie was sitting with her back to us, her arms folded over her chest. Her shoulders were tense and I could practically feel her being mad at me. 

“Get away from me.” 

“Because you don’t want him to think we’re together?” 

“Ha. As if I care what he thinks.” At his grin, I suddenly realized I’d given the wrong answer: By telling him I wasn’t interested in Jungkook, he could take that to mean I was available. I felt like smacking myself in the forehead. 

I’d had it with the guy/girl thing. It was going to give me a brain freeze! Tae scooted closer.  

“Give it up, Y/n. You know you like me. Stop fighting it.” 

“Ew.” I shoved him off me and stood up, nearly tripping over Jimin, who was sitting there like a dork, just listening and staring at Sana, who was pretending not to notice he was watching her. 

“I’m going to get popcorn.” Tae stood up. “I’ll go with you.” 

“No!” I started to walk away, then stopped when he started to follow me. “Jennie has something she wants to talk to you about.” Her eyes widened in panic, and I shoved him toward her.  

“She’s been waiting all night to bring it up. Sit and listen.” 

“Um, yeah, see I had this question about . . . um . . . English. Yeah, English.” 

I bailed before Tae could get away from Jennie, jogging down the metal bleachers and heading toward the concessions, my sneakers squeaking with each step. With any luck, the line would be long and I wouldn’t return to my seat until the game was way over. 

I headed for cotton candy, because, well, what was better than cotton candy when I was in one of those moods? I took a quick glance around for Jungkook and Winter, but didn’t see them. So maybe they’d left. Together.  

What was up with that? I folded my arms over my chest and scowled at the back of the head of the girl in front of me. Dark hair, cropped shirt, and low-slung jeans. I felt my eyes widen as I saw the edge of a tattoo peeking out from under the waistband of her pants. There was blond hair and a halo. An angel. My parents would flip if I did that! Unless it was a soccer ball. My dad would probably support that. Assuming I ever saw him again to actually get his permission. 

“Hey, Y/n.” I spun around. “Jungkook?” 

He was standing right behind me, a navy letterman jacket from what must have been his old school slung over his shoulder. His hair was sort of spiky, which was new. It was a good look. I took a quick peek behind him. No Winter. 

“What happened to your girlfriend?” Fuck, had I actually asked that? Like I cared about his life on any level except soccer. 

His brow furrowed and he looked behind him, like he was trying to see what I’d been looking at.  

“What girlfriend?” 

“Winter. I saw you guys talking and . . .” I suddenly realized it sounded like I’d been spying on him. So I shrugged and turned back so I faced the front of the line.  “Whatever.”

He moved next to me, his shoulder brushing against mine and I caught a whiff of the scent I was beginning to recognize as his own. This time, there was no athletic undercurrent. He just smelled clean, sort of like the woods, pine-scented. I grinned to myself. A pine-scented practice partner. How fun. 

“She’s not my girlfriend. Are you kidding? A girl like her? Way too high maintenance.” He grinned. “Plus, she hates sports.” 

“She’s insane.” I suddenly felt much better than I had a few minutes ago, probably because the line was finally moving. He took a step forward as I moved with the line.  

“What about the blond guy sitting with you? Boyfriend?” 

“Ha. He wishes.” 

“Humm.” We were silent for a few minutes, and I watched as a guy came up to tattoo girl in front of me and put his arm around her waist, making some comment about how pretty her hair was. She giggled and leaned into him, fluttering her mascara-laden lashes at him. I snorted and I heard Jungkook stifle a laugh next to me. 

I’d been right about him after all. He was like me. Soccer was our world and dating was for people who didn’t have enough other interesting things to talk about. 

“You getting some cotton candy or what?” 

“No, actually, I’m heading out.” He glanced at his watch. “Got a family birthday to attend. I just wanted to say hey.” 

“Hey back.” I grimaced at how wistful I sounded. So what if I hadn’t had a family since my parents had split up at the start of the summer? Didn’t bother me. “Well, have fun.” 

He nodded. “See you Monday?” 

“You bet. Prepare to run a lot of laps.” 

“Back at ya Y/n .” Then he looked past my head and frowned. “Winter spotted me.” He sighed. “She needs to get a life.” He winced visibly when she shouted his name. “I gotta bail. See you later.” 

And then he was gone. I chuckled as I saw Winter run past me, trying to get Jungkook’s attention. He didn’t run away from me, did he? Nope. Because I was cool and not girly. When I got back to my seat, Tae’s attention didn’t bug me nearly as much as it had earlier in the night.

Go figure

When we were walking to the soccer field for practice on Monday afternoon I was so busy thinking about Jungkook that I totally wasn’t paying attention to where we were going. 

“Wait a second.” Jennie stopped suddenly. “I thought we were practicing with varsity a week from Friday.” 

“We are.” I took advantage of the moment to drop to one knee and crank the laces on my right cleat tighter. My shoes were getting a little too broken in. My dad was the one willing to cough up the dough for the really good cleats, so I’d texted him that I needed a new pair. He must be out of the country or something, because I hadn’t heard from him since before the whole varsity thing had started. 

“Then why are the varsity girls on our field? During our practice time?” I glanced up at our field.  

“Holy cow.” She was right. Varsity girls were there. Now. It was too soon. I wasn’t ready. “They must be finishing up.” Tell me they’re finishing up. 

“God, they’re good,” Sana muttered. “I had no idea how much better they were than us.” 

“They’re not that good,” Jennie scoffed but there was a slight waver to her voice. “I’m right there with them.” 

Coach Merrill was standing next to the varsity coach, and she pointed toward Jennie and me. She and Coach Young turned to look at us, then Coach nodded and wrote something down on a clipboard she was carrying. 

“Oh, no. Not today.” My lungs got tight and a trickle of sweat dripped down my back. I wasn’t ready yet. 

“I think today,” Jennie whispered. “Kathleen and Heidi are already out there" Our competition was already on the field? Not fair. I grabbed Jennie’s wrist. 

“Come on. Let’s find out what’s up.” 

“Right.” We stalked forward, side by side, and I was vaguely aware of Sana running after us. We reached Coach Merrill, but before we could ask, she introduced us to Coach Young, then said,  

“Coach Young wanted an early look at you guys.This isn’t an official tryout, but she wanted to get a sense of where everyone was and see if there was anyone else she wanted to add to the list of potentials.” She nodded at the field. 

“Why don’t you all head down to the goal and take some practice shots?” 

All I could manage was a nod, then I spun around and started jogging toward the goal. My hands were actually shaking.  

“See, it’s not a tryout,” Sana said as we made our way out onto the field. 

“Today doesn’t count for you guys. You’re already on the list.” Jennie and I exchanged glances.  

“Of course it counts,” I said. “It always counts.” A varsity girl jogged up to me. “You’re with me. Come on.” 

I shot a nervous look at Jennie, who gave me a thumbs up, then I followed the varsity girl. She dropped the ball between us.  

“I’m Lisa.” 

“Y/n.” 

“Hey. I’ll play defense. Try to get past me to kick a goal, okay?” I nodded and wiped my palms on my shorts. My footwork was way better after two days with Jungkook. I could handle this. Lisa backed up about ten feet and settled into a defensive stance. I carved the ball with my foot and headed toward the goal. I’d just lean to the right to make her think I was going that way and then I’d go left. . . . She was there and stole the ball in less than a second.

Crud. 

Lisa grinned and kicked it back to me. “Again.” I tried again.  She stole it again. 

And again. 

I wiped the back of my hand across my forehead and glanced over my shoulder. Coach Young was watching us. Come on, Y/n. I lined up again, drew deep on what Jungkook and I’d been working on, and went for it. I made it fifteen feet before Lisa stole it for the fourth time. 

Crud. 

I looked up just in time to see Jennie kick a goal, her varsity defender grimacing as she picked herself up off the turf. Great, just great. As Coach Merrill and Coach Young disappeared into the gym behind the last of the girls, I plunked myself down on the field and dropped my head between my knees. I was beat and completely frustrated. I’d been totally  hosed by Lisa the entire practice and I knew it. I was sunk. 

Jennie was bouncing all over the place, fi red up after her great performance. “You weren’t that bad.” I lifted my head to look at her. She gave me a sheepish smile. 

 “You’ll do better next time, at least. You still have next Friday.” Sana sat next to me and put her arm around my shoulder.  

“And even if you don’t do better and don’t make the team, you can hang out with me on JV. That’s not so bad.” I let out a deep breath. 

 “I love hanging out with you, but I want to make varsity.” I wanted it even more after practicing with the varsity team today and seeing their intensity, but it seemed so much further away now. Like, out of reach. Totally. 

“What’s the big deal with varsity, anyway?” Jennie grabbed her shirt and rubbed the hem of it under her eyes, wiping off her smeared mascara. “I mean, either way, it’s still soccer.” I frowned at her. 

“You’re kidding, right? They’re totally different.” Jennie dropped her shirt back down and started running her fingers through her hair, trying to untangle her dark curls.  

“Yeah, because varsity practices later and if we make varsity, we’ll miss out on time at Pop’s.”  

“Really?” Sana sat up. “You’ll stop going? But what about Jimin. . . and Taehyung?” 

“Well, I was actually thinking about that, you know?” Jennie sat down in front of us and crossed her legs. “I mean, the whole point of doing soccer is to hang out, so if the three of us get split between two teams, then where’s the fun?” She leaned forward, her gaze pinned to my face. 

“I was actually kind of thinking that maybe we should both drop out, since Sana’s not going for varsity. What do you think?” I was too surprised to answer. Drop out of contention for varsity so I could be social? She grinned, a twinkle in her eye I hadn’t seen before, winking at Sana.  

“I saw Taehyung earlier today. He said he and Jimin are going to Pop’s tonight at six to study for the history test tomorrow. You want to go?” I stared at them in disbelief.  

“Are you guys serious? You’re worried about hanging out with them instead of soccer?” 

“Face it, Y/n,” Sana said. “You’re not going to make varsity. Those girls are so good.” I clenched my fists. 

“I can make it. I’ll just work harder.” Jennie rolled her eyes.  

“Y/n, you have to mellow out about soccer. It’s just a game. Who really cares if you make varsity?” 

“I do!” I stood up, unable to take their attitude anymore. How could they not understand how important this was? 

“I’m going to go practice with Jungkook. I’ll see you guys later.” 

“But what about Pop’s tonight?” 

“Can’t do it.” I grabbed a ball and left them in the field, too frustrated even to feel depressed about them going out without me. I mean, I didn’t want to lose them as friends but I wanted varsity too. Why couldn’t they understand it? Jungkook would understand . . . not that I was going to go complain to him, a guy wouldn’t get all upset over a bad practice, and I wasn’t about to go pathetic and girly on him. I’d seen him run away from Winter and there was no way I could take that kind of rejection today. 

He was already on the field when I got there. He’d set up a bunch of cones all over the place in front of the goal. He smiled when he saw me.

"We’re practicing at this end today. Cool?” 

“Yeah. Great.” I dropped my ball at my feet and sighed. Did I really have what it took to make varsity, or was I kidding myself? Was I wasting my time?  Suddenly became aware of Jungkook waving his hand slowly in front of my face.  

“What?” He chuckled.  

“You were totally spacing out. What’s up?” I bit my lower lip to keep myself from blurting it out. I would not become a high-maintenance chick. I was going to be like a guy. Cool.  

His left eyebrow cocked. “Y/n? What’s wrong?” I studied his face for a second, but he didn’t turn away or start doing his hackey sack thing. He was actually waiting for me to answer him. Maybe I should. He would get it.  

“Can I ask you something?” He nodded. 

“Do you think I really have a chance to make varsity? I mean, we had to practice with them today and they were so much better. This one girl kicked my butt all over the field and my stupid friends think it’s not a big deal if I don’t make varsity, and it’s driving me crazy!” He opened his mouth to answer and I smacked my hand over his lips.  

“Tell me the truth. I need to know... Am I wasting my time with this varsity thing? Tell me the truth or I’ll sic Wintr on you, I swear I will!” His skin was warm under my hand, and it sort of distracted me from how upset I was making myself. I cleared my throat. 

“Do you promise to tell me the truth?” At his nod, I moved my hand away. He was smiling again, almost laughing. I scowled.  

“What’s so funny?” 

“You.” I set my hand on my hips. “Why?” 

“Because you’re all insecure and I didn’t think you ever got that way.” Oh, great. Now he was going to blow me off. Too wimpy. Too girly. Too annoying.  

“I’m not insecure,” I snapped. He simply cocked his head and looked at me 

“Honestly, I think a lot of the varsity girls are better than you. . . .” He caught my arm as I started to turn away. “But that’s to be expected. There aren’t any freshmen on the team, are there?” 

I eyed him. “No. Not unless some of us get moved up next week.” He nodded. “See? So, of course, they’re going to be better than you right now. But that’s not the issue. The question is whether you’re one of the top two JV girls, right? Because two girls are moving up, right?” 

“I guess so.” 

“So, that’s all you need to think about. Once you make varsity, you have the rest of the season to catch up to the other varsity girls.” I pursed my lips while I considered his comment. 

“I guess . . .” He did have a point. I could be top two on JV, couldn’t I? He slung his arm around my shoulder and messed up my hair. 

“Y/n, relax. You’re a great player and we have almost two weeks to train.” I froze at the feeling of his arm around me. My shoulder was pressed up against his side, and his whole body was warm against me, and my stomach did a little flip flop. This wasn’t how it felt when Sana or Jennie put an arm around me, this was different. 

He started walking toward the cones he’d set up, keep-ing his arm around my shoulders. Why was he doing that? Had he suddenly decided he liked me? That would be bad. I didn’t like guys like that. Not even Jungkook, who the girls thought was so hot. Was he hot? Were they right? I mean, he wasn’t ugly for sure . . . but hot? 

He dropped his arm, and I sighed with relief. Yeah, relief. But then he put his hands on my shoulders and turned me to face him. Um, hello? Total eye contact. Was this the moment? Was he going to change our relationship and force me to run away from him? 

“Y/n.” I swallowed hard.  

“What?” 

“How bad do you want varsity?” Varsity? That’s what this was about? Good. That’s what I wanted it to be about. Um, yeah. 

“Y/n?” 

“Varsity’s all I want.” He nodded with satisfaction, like he totally heard me. Like he got me. Like I’d said what he wanted to hear.  

“You can make it. I know you can.” I met his determined gaze and felt all the pressure and frustration fall away from me.  

“Yeah, I can.” He grinned. “Then we better get to work, huh?” 

“You’ll help?” 

“Of course.”  

Of course. A warm feeling settled in my belly. Jungkook did get me. Soccer was just as important to him as it was to me. We were a team, kinda.  

“I’ll owe you.” 

“No sweat.” He turned away and headed toward the cones. “Practicing with you helps my game, you know?” 

Of course that was why he was helping me. Because it helped his game, made sense. That was how it should be. See? We were good. It was still just us, doing soccer. I lifted my chin, realizing that I wasn’t feeling bummed out and frustrated about soccer anymore, thanks to Jungkook and I jogged after him.  

“I’ll kick your butt today,” I announced. He shot me a grin as he moved the cones. 

 “You’re so going down, Y/n.” 

“Not even!” I gave him a friendly hip check. “No mercy.” His eyes glittered at me. “No mercy,” he agreed. Then he tossed me a ball.  

“You have to get through all the cones and then kick a goal. Timed, as usual.” 

“Got it.” I took my ball and headed toward my end, not even bothering to get upset that he had a longer course than I did. He was better than I was and that was okay. It didn’t bother him and it didn’t bother me. It simply gave me motivation to kick his butt so he had to make his course shorter.I dropped the ball.  

“Ready?” 

“Set.” 

“Go!” 

And then we were off. Adrenaline surged, my mind focused, and I charged forward, pretending Coach Young was watching me and I was going against Lisa with my varsity spot on the line. Around this cone, that one, to the end and voilà! I slammed my ball into the upper right corner of the net a full half second before Jungkook’s ball did. It was by far the most I’d ever beat him, and I threw my arms up in victory. I laughed at the disgruntled look on his face.  

“What can I say? You inspire me. Take a lap, buddy.” He chuckled and smacked me lightly on the back of the head as he ran by. 

“I’m going to have to stop taking it easy on you.” 

I laughed as I watched him take off. He’d been breathing hard after that run. I’d pushed him, and I’d beat him legit. As I watched him jog around the field, I felt the tension from JV practice ease from my shoulders. Not only did Jungkook get me and help my soccer, but he hadn’t even cared when I’d sort of wigged out on him. He was good for me. 

Then my smile faded as I realized I was watching his quads flex with each step. Watching the ripple of muscles under the skin. I immediately cleared my throat and yanked my gaze off him, totally flustered as I hustled over to take a couple of his cones away. What was wrong with me? We were soccer partners. He didn’t like girls, and I didn’t like guys. That’s why we got along so well, there would be no changing of the rules, even if I wanted to change them.   

Which I didn’t because if I did, soccer practice would be over. I’d seen how he ditched Winter. There was no way I was giving him a reason to do the same to me. I needed him, at least until the tryouts, which meant we were soccer buddies only. 

Which meant no more noticing his quads. You had this Y/n

It was almost dark when I walked out of the locker room after our practice session, after a quick shower. My hair was still wet, but why bother to dry it if I was just going home. Who was going to see it? I jumped down the stairs, humming to myself as I hit the street. 

“Wait up!” I immediately stopped and turned around in time to see Jungkook jogging up behind me. His backpack was over one shoulder, and his gym bag over his other one. His hair was sticking up straight from the shower. 

“What’s going on?” I shifted my weight and fiddled with the strap on my bag. 

“Where are you headed?” He fell in next to me and I started walking again. 

“Home. You?” 

“My brother's picking me up at the ice cream shop down the street. He’s going to be late today, so I figured I’d grab some food there and study ’til he gets here.” 

“That’s on my way home. I walk right past there.” How often did he go there? Had I walked by him other times and not noticed? How weird would that be? 

“You walk all the way home?” he asked. I nodded. “It’s only a ten minute walk. Works for me.” 

We fell silent and I became aware of the sound of his sneakers crunching on the leaves, and I realized I was matching my steps to his. I immediately shifted my gait to a different tempo.  

“So, I liked that new one-on-one drill we did today.” He caught my arm as I was about to cross the street, nodding at a car that was coming.  

“My brother plays college soccer and he told me about it. I asked him for some drills the other night.”  

His hand was warm around my arm and I couldn’t stop myself from noticing. The car passed, he dropped his hand, and headed across the street, still rambling on about soccer. I jogged  after him to catch up, trying to focus on what he was talking about. But all I could think of was the fact that Jennie and Sana thought he was hot. 

And he’d been holding my arm, but who would care about that? 

He stopped suddenly and I almost ran into him. “So we’re here. You going to stop for some ice cream or head home?” 

“Ice cream,” I blurted. “I’m going to have some ice cream.”  

He dropped his bags on the one open bench out front. It was crowded inside, mostly with families and little kids. All the tables were taken both inside and outside, and all that was left was the bench. There was music being piped out from under the green and white striped awning, but I didn’t recognize it. Sounded like the kind of music my parents listened to.  

“I’ll get the ice cream. The guy behind the counter has a brother on the soccer team, and he lets us skip the line. What do you want?” 

“Chocolate with Reese’s peanut butter cups would be awesome.” He grinned as he frowned his brows. 

“No protests of how you’re on a diet and just want water?”  

I snorted. “As if! You really think I’m that kind of girl? I’m totally offended.” 

He batted me softly on the head. “Don’t worry, Y/n, you’re not like other girls. Why do you think I’m hanging with you and practicing with you? If you were like other girls and all into that kind of girl stuff and stalking me, I’d be gone. You’re like . . . a guy with highlights.”   

A surge of warmth went through me.  A guy with highlights had to be the highest compliment Jungkook offered. Guess I didn’t have to worry anymore about whether he liked me. Question answered. I felt so much better knowing he didn’t like me. Really. I felt better. I was pretty sure of it. 

“Swear,” he said. “Now, are you going to save my seat or what?” I put my foot up on the bench as he stood up.  

“I’ll take out anyone who dares take your spot.” 

“Thanks.” He gave me his cute little salute, then ducked inside the store. I sighed and let my head fl op against the wood, but my cell phone buzzed before I could get my thoughts in order. I jerked it out of my pocket, my heart skipping when I saw who it was. I flipped it open. “Dad?” 

“Hey, hon. Sorry I missed our date last weekend.” I picked at a loose paint chip on the bench. “No, that’s fine. Whatever.” It wasn’t like I’d expected him to be there. “Did you get my messages?” 

Jungkook sat down next to me and handed me a ginormous chocolate dipped waffle cone the size of my head. 

“Thanks,” I mouthed. He nodded and took a bite of his equally huge Oreo cookie cone. 

“I didn’t listen to your messages,” my dad said. “I just saw you called so I called you back. Figured it was faster.” I scowled.

“I left those messages days ago.” Jungkook watched me as he took another bite. 

“Now, Y/n don’t get all defensive on me. I’ve been busy and this is my first free moment. Why’d you call?” I took a deep breath and told him about the varsity thing. By the end, I was all excited again. 

“So, anyway, the tryouts are next Friday. You think you can come?” 

“I’d love to, hon. I’ll see if I have any meetings.” My throat tightened. “I really want you to come.” My dad sighed.  

“I know, hon, but you know it’s difficult for me to take time off work during the day.” 

“Yeah, and you can’t take time off at night, either. When can you ever take time for me anymore? You move out of the house and it’s like you moved out of my life. Don’t you even care anymore?” 

“Honey, I said I’ll try to make it, okay? I just can’t promise, you understand” Oh, I understood. “Forget it. Forget I asked. Bye, Dad.” I slammed my phone shut and shoved it in my pocket. 

“Problem with the ’rental units?” Jungkook grabbed my ice cream, which I’d forgotten I was holding, as it tipped precariously to the side. He smiled and held up my waffle cone.  

“Ice cream solves all problems.” I glared at it. So he angled it and popped the end of it against my nose.  

“Sorry.” I snickered and wiped the ice cream off. “You are not.” 

“Sure I am. You better take it before I eat it.” 

“Pig.” But I took the cone and took a bite. It was smooth and chocolaty and tasted awesome. I sighed and let the ice cream roll over my tongue. So what if my dad didn’t care enough to come?  Jungkook leaned back next to me, his shoulder against mine as we ate our ice cream. 

“So, I’m the seventh kid out of seven,” he said after a while. I looked at him to see if he was kidding.  

“Really? That’s a ton.” 

“Swear.” He took another bite of ice cream. “My parents never made it to any of our games. Seven kids was too many, you know? So they said if they made it to some and not others, it would be like playing favorites, so they never went to any.” I swirled my tongue around the ice cream.  

“So?” 

“So, it didn’t mean they didn’t care. That’s all I’m saying.” He broke off a piece of his cone and popped it in his mouth. I bit my lower lip for a minute.  

“You think that’s all it is? That he’s busy?” He shrugged.  

“Once my parents forgot my birthday.” I thought of my birthday next month and wondered if my dad was going to forget. 

 “Did you freak?” He grinned. “I made them feel so guilty for forgetting that they gave me a huge party a week later. I was the only kid in our family ever to get a huge party.” I couldn’t help but return his smile.  

“So, that’s cool.” He nodded. “So, don’t take it personally. Parents have stuff going on. Keep harassing him. He’ll come around.” 

“You think?” I took a bite of my ice cream and thought about it. My dad had said he’d at least try to come. 

“I know.” He raised his brow. “You ever done tears on him? My brothers were brilliant at it.” 

I lifted my chin. “I don’t cry.” He gave a nod of approval. 

“Good. Girls that cry drive me nuts.” He shot me a look, like he was trying to see if I was still bumming. I managed another smile, but it was a little weak. He looked thoughtful for a second like he was planning something. “Is your ice cream good?” 

“Yeah, it’s . . .” I hadn’t even finished talking when he grabbed my wrist and pulled my cone toward him, dropping his head to take a huge bite out of my ice cream. 

“Hey!” He lifted his head, licking the ice cream off his lips.  

“It is good. Want to trade?” I eyed his cone. Oreo cookie was my second favorite kind of ice cream. 

“Can I try a bite first?” 

“Go for it.”  

I bent over and took a bite, but as I was pulling away, he moved the cone suddenly and smushed it against my cheek. 

 “Jungkook!” I batted his hand away, then saw the mischievous look in his eye. “You did that on purpose!” He grinned.  

“Oops. Didn’t mean to do that. Sorry.” 

“You are not!” Oh, this was a battle now! I grabbed his cone and shoved it upward, smashing it into the bottom of his chin and his throat before he realized what I was doing. I cracked up as he jumped to his feet and danced out of my reach, ice cream dripping down his chin and over the front of his sweatshirt.  

“That was so overkill,” he protested. “I barely got you.” 

“What can I say? I’m competitive.” I grinned as I wiped a napkin over my cheek, clearing off the Oreo cookie ice goop.  

“Now that your cone has been shoved in your neck, I don’t really want to trade, but thanks for the offer.” His eyes dancing, he pointed at my throat.  

“There’s some on your shirt.” 

“Really?” Still laughing, I tugged my collar out from my neck and saw a little ice cream around the rim.  

“Good. I’ll snack on it later when I’m hungry.” He chuckled and sat down next to me, crunching on his cone.  

“You know, as girls go, you’re not too bad.” I grinned. “You’re not bad for a guy.” Yeah, like, so not bad. He helped me deal with my dad.  Practice soccer. And he bought me ice cream. And he made me laugh.  And he made me feel good about myself. And he was cute. Not that I cared.  

A red pickup truck suddenly pulled up in front of us and honked its horn. Jungkook jumped to his feet.  

“That’s my ride. Gotta go.” I snickered at the ice cream still dripping down his shirt.  

“You’re just afraid to take me on in an ice-cream battle. Wimp.” 

“Never.” He paused with his hand on the door. “There’s a Major League Soccer game on Thursday night. Any interest in watching it? We can learn a lot from watching their strategy. It’s on cable. We can watch it at my house. My older brother can pick us up after your regular practice and we’ll skip our drilling session. Cool?” 

If he hadn’t already told me that I was a guy with highlights, I might’ve wondered if the invitation to go to his house was actually a pseudo date in disguise. As it was, no biggie. Glad I knew what was up so I didn’t wig out. I nodded. “Should be fine. I’ll check with my mom and let you know tomorrow.” 

“Great. See ya then.” And then he hopped in the truck and was gone. I had just leaned back in my seat and taken a big bite of ice cream when I heard a familiar voice from behind me. “Oh, my God.” 

I turned around to see Jennie standing in the doorway of the ice-cream shop with her little brother. Her parents were still inside, cleaning up the table they’d been sitting at. Even though Jennie was out with the family, she was still dressed up. Makeup, hair, and a cute outfit. I forced myself not to run my hand through my still damp, unstyled hair. 

“Hey, Jen. What’s up?” 

“Did I just hear what I think I heard?” Her blue eyes were wide like, really wide, not just mascara enhanced wide. I shifted against the hard bench and tried to think of what she was talking about. “What?” 

“A date! You have a date with Jungkook!” 

“Oh, that.” I snorted and turned back to my ice cream. 

“Not at all. It’s soccer. We’re going to watch a game.” 

Jennie plunked herself down next to me and yanked my cone out of my hand.   

“Y/n, a guy does not ask a girl to his house unless he likes her. I saw the way he looked at you.” She grinned. “You, my friend, have a date, with a very hot guy.” She took a bite of my cone for emphasis, grinning wider when I scowled at her. 

“Sorry, Jennie, but you’re wrong. We’re just friends.” She cocked her head.  

“You sound like you really believe that.” 

“I know it. He just told me I was like a guy with highlights.” Her eyebrows went up.  

“Really?” I sighed. “Uh-huh.” 

“Ahhhh . . .” She leaned back against the bench. “So that’s it.” 

“So what’s it? Can I have my ice cream back?” She took another bite and then handed it back. “You like him.” 

“Jungkook? No way.” I shook my head hard. Then did it again. “Not a chance.” 

“Give it up, Y/n. How could you not? He’s totally cute and I saw him making you laugh. You guys have been spending how much time together?” She giggled. 

“Y/n has finally noticed the opposite sex. It’s about time! i'm so happy for that!” 

“No.” I said it firmly. “Our friendship is based on the fact that neither of us is into the dating thing. If I liked him, then he’d bail on me, so even if I was thinking of liking him, it would be stupid and I wouldn’t do it.” 

Would I? No. Of course not. The fact that I could still remember what he smelled like didn’t mean I liked him. Jennie was wrong. So what if he was cute and made me laugh? I didn’t like him. 

I. Didn’t. Like. Him. 

She gave me this look that told me she wasn’t buying it, but all she said was,  

“Want to come to Pop’s Friday night? The boys said they might be there, so I’m trying to talk Sana into going, but she’s been wigging around Jimin ever since I told her he likes her.” She must have noticed my expression, because she added, “Please? I bet Tae will come if you’re there. Just stay ’til he comes and then you can leave, if you want.” 

I couldn’t keep from grimacing. That didn’t sound like my favorite way to spend a Friday night. “I don’t think so. Why don’t you and Sana just come over to my house and we can watch movies?” 

“Please?” She put her head on my shoulder and sighed. “I’ll owe you forever.” I snorted at the tone in her voice.  

“Why are you so into Taehyung?” Her face immediately lit up.  

“I like how he makes me feel.” 

“Really? But he barely even talks to you.” 

She lifted her head, shaking it vigorously. “Only when you’re there. When it’s just us, he’s so nice. He makes me laugh, he compliments me and makes me feel good about myself, and he even listens when I complain about whatever’s bugging me.”  I stared at her, an eerily familiar feeling coming over me.

“He does?” That was how it was with Jungkook, but that was because we were just friends, right? She got this dreamy look on her face.  

“Totally.” 

“Wow.” I sat back, my fingers tight around my cone. “I had no idea that it was like that between you guys.” I also had no idea that it was the same as it was between me and Jungkook. Did that mean I liked him? No. It didn’t. It couldn’t. I would lose everything if I were stupid enough to like him. 

“So, you’ll help?” She sat up suddenly, an eager look on her face. “Will you tell Tae that you’re dating Jungkook?” I jumped up in horror. “No!” 

“Why not? You said you don’t like Tae. But you do, don’t you?” I shook my head. “No, no, that’s not it. It’s just that I don’t want to say I’m dating Jungkook. What if it got back to him? He’d flip!” She relaxed and gave me a speculative look. 

“Maybe he’d start thinking of you as more than a guy with highlights.” 

“Which would be bad.” She lifted her brows. 

 “Would it?” 

“Yes.”  

It would. So how come I suddenly couldn’t stop thinking about it?

[wakeup01]

Two Twinks, One Wish

“So Charlie, what did you wish for Christmas?”

“Really? Can we just watch the movie?” I say, annoyed.

Daniel had been my boyfriend for about a month now and had recently moved into my flat, just in time for Christmas. Since then things had been a struggle, he would continually whine about my inadequacies - how I didn’t tidy enough, didn’t appreciate him and most of all how I was a terrible top.

See, the problem was, we were both twinks. We had the same skinny body type, with barely any muscle definition. The only real difference being he had the better ass. Admittedly, I had a severe lack of confidence in the bedroom, frequently failing to get in the mood. Daniel on the other hand was very particular about what he liked and what he expected.

“Come on! You must be able to think of something. God knows there’s enough things you can be better at…” Daniel chastised.

Even now he had turned a harmless movie night into another chance to take petty digs. We were on the couch watching some cheesy xmas film, where the protagonist makes wishes that magically come true. Now he was insisting for me to make some stupid wish.

“Why don’t you go first? You seem to have a lot of ideas in mind.” I shoot back, not taking my eyes off the screen.

“Hmm, I got the perfect one! Charlie, I wish… you were a better top!” He laughs and nudges into my shoulder.

I roll my eyes, of course, I should of guessed this is where things were heading. Ugh. Out of nowhere I feel a chill wash over my whole body and a tightness take hold in my chest. After a moment the feeling subsides.

“Very funny. Have you been thinking that one up all night.” My voice dripping in sarcasm.

I shift in my seat slightly, a dull warmth emanating from my crotch. I must be feeling unwell, I’m definitely not being turned on by his degrading remarks. But the heat doesn’t fade, in fact it only grows in intensity. I get the impulse to grope at my growing bulge, the tightness straining against my jeans. Daniel would never live it down If I did, but it was becoming rather uncomfortable.

“You look a little flustered there… ah. I see. Are you really getting horny from this? Christ, you’re pathetic.” Daniel scolds, reaching his hand down.

Before I can object he unzips my trousers and pulls down the waistband of my briefs. My cock bursts forth and slaps against my chest, pre already leaking from it’s tip. Except it’s not my cock, this monster is almost twice my normal size. And my balls are inflating in front of my very eyes.

“What the hell?” I shout.

“Woah, oh shit, it’s working. It’s a Christmas miracle!” He exclaims in barely contained glee.

“Daniel, what did you do!” My voice cracks.

My dick continues to snake up my torso, going from 5 inches, to 7 then to 8. As it grows, so does my hornyness, overpowering my head as I fall into a drunken stupor. This is the most intense erection I’ve ever felt. My hand rubs up and down the entire length and I attempt to wrap my fingers around it, before discovering its girth is now thicker than my hand.

“Nice cock ‘bro’. Good tops are well equipped downstairs. And now, you are too. Hahaha” I look over and see him smirk at me.

He’s enjoying this far too much for my liking, but I’m in no position to fight back. Why did he make that stupid wish, I better not be stuck with this forever. At this point I don’t think my cock would even fit into any underwear I own. How exactly can I walk around with this thing swinging between my legs.

“You know who makes good tops? Jocks. That cocky attitude and carefree nature, coasting through life without thinking.” Daniel suggests, wistfully.

Jocks are also narcissistic morons. And I’m certainly not going to be one just to be a better ‘top’. I’m suddenly distracted by a chafing from my rear, a pair of straps seem to be cupping the cheeks of my tight butt. Below my balls now sits a stained pouch, the smell of musk rising from it hits my nose and I recoil.

“I think it’s jockstraps only from now on Charlie. And woof, sweaty ones at that.”

All of my senses are being overpowered, it’s like my head is in a vice that keeps on tightening. The film in front of me becomes a blur, my focus shattered by the intense pleasure from my new cock.

“Cock.” I blurt out.

I hear Daniel laughing from out of view.

My head is starved of oxygen as all the blood rushes to my groin, I’ve never been this horny before. I feel the strangest sensation as my brain thickens, filling up with throbbing meat. All the space padded out until I’m holding up a heavy dumbbell on the end of my neck. My thoughts were still there, somewhere, but it took so long to find them. It was quicker and easier to just embrace jockdom, stop worrying so much and just go along with the flow. If I was unsure of what to say then bro, I’d just say ‘bro’! A bro can fill in sentences with ‘bro’ and everyone will know what a bro they are. And bro? Being labeled as a dumb bro means no one expects anything meaningful from me. Brawn over brains is the mantra of my life dude.

“Jock’s also like to wear their bro-hood on their sleeves, and in your case, quite literally.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth I feel a sharp pain, as if a hundred needles are stabbing down my arm. I brace myself before glancing down. And there it was, 🍖 the meat emoji tattooed on my left hand. Huhhuh, awesome bro. Branded a meathead for life.

“Bro?” I ask slowly, my voice now considerably deeper.

“Yeah ‘Chad?’” Daniel emphasises.

The name immediately sticks to me like glue. Chad. I am such a Chad. I have some distant recollection of being someone else, but I can’t be bothered to search my brain for it. There’s a more pressing concern.

“Bruh, I need to empty my balls.” I grunt. The pressure from my engorged member becoming unbearable.

“Then you know what to do. Good muscle tops have their cocks milked every day.”

I grip my cock and begin pumping in earnest, my jaw hanging open. As I masturbate, my hands and arms bulk up with muscle. I see my veins very noticeably pop out. I feel a desperate urge to flex, letting one hand go from my dick. I ball it into a fist and raise it to the side of my head, squeezing my biceps. My arm pulses with meat, sending a vain satisfaction to my pleasure center.

“Good dumb tops spend all their time in the gym or on the field. Sculpting their body into the perfect chiselled shape.” His nasally voice instructs.

Muscle continues to form all over my lithe frame; my shoulders broaden and my chest ripples into a tight 6 pack. My clothes are loudly ripped to shreds. Memories enter my head of spending hours working out, of hanging with the other jocks and forming a vacant facade of a personality. Sweat drips from my hairy armpits, staining the couch under me. The room quickly starts smelling like a gym, my rank feet tearing free from my socks. My face cracks as it squares out into a more defined outline, brow growing heavy above my distant eyes. My body is now taking up most of the couch as Daniel budges over to the side. I quicken my pace, pumping now with both hands. My balls tighten.

“Fuck yeah brah.” I roar, reaching climax.

My cock spurts rope after rope of musky cum directly at my face, I’m left covered in my own seed. Daniel leans over to me and begins to eagerly lick at my face. He savours my taste on his tongue before swallowing. The sign of an expert bottom, huhuhu.

“Mmm. Great Tops know how to take control. And you’re a great top Chad.” Daniel moans in lust.

He’s right.

“Dude, this film is fucking dull. I’m changing to the sports channel bro. There’s a sick game playing today.” My hands take the remote and switch to a noisy football game.

I grab Daniels’s tiny little body and force him onto my lap. I flex again and push his face into my armpit. His tongue drags along my wiry dank hair. He moves his hand between my legs and starts passionately fingering his hungry ass hole, using my cum as lube. I hear him panting heavily like a dog. Man, my boyfriend is such a whiny brat…

“Bro, it’s my turn.” My cocky voice booms.

“What?” I hear his muffled voice cry out.

“Uhh… I wish… I wish you were a Bro like me, Bro.” I smirk.

“Wait, noooo!” He screams.

His body shudders and contorts as I hold his face to my pits with my newfound strength. He packs on pounds of muscle in a matter of seconds. Dan’s moaning turns to grunts. He’s going to make for such a Good. Arrogant. Dumb. Bro.

I watch his dong stretch down his leg, his balls sagging between his thickening thighs. The head of Dan’s veiny cock leaking like a faucet. A pair of juicy pecs push out from his chest and his adam apple swells. I pull away the remains of his clothes, letting them fall to the ground.

Dan’s dainty feet beef up to a size 12, sweat gathering between his toes - smelling like a real man should. I feel his previously fat bubble butt tense with lean muscle on my lap. With a squeak, his thoroughly abused fuck hole tightens shut, never to be stretched open again. He only tops after all, like me.

I release my grip on him and he pulls away, my sweat covering his square jawed face. He stuffs his junk into a jockstrap, looking barely concealed as it throbs with need. His messy hair has receded into a clean as fuck buzzcut. We now look almost identical, except that his meat emoji 🍖 tattoo is engraved on his right hand.

“Bro!” Dan’s voice deepens.

“Let’s go find some sluts to breed, bro.” We both smirk at each other and flex.

[johnwickb1tsch]

lessons in anatomy VII

a yandere art professor Wick x drawing model muse! reader AU... (also featuring Matt from River's Edge. If you haven't seen the movie that's ok, I will fill in the gaps as we go...) ->chapter map

VII.

-Later that night you’re outside Matt’s apartment with that familiar feeling that you’re doing something that maybe you shouldn’t be doing. You were afraid he’d take it the wrong way, if you invited him over to your place. But now you’re not sure this is any better. 

Just chill out, you scold yourself. He’s a sweet boy. He’s going to finish his drawing, and then you’re going to leave. No funny business.

Right. 

Your ovaries have other ideas, but you’re usually successful at thwarting their evil schemes, if with anything your pure talent for saying the wrong thing.   

You can hear the music coming through the door before you even knock. There are several voices on the other side. Loud, excited, adolescently boyish. It doesn’t really help the unease inside you, but before you can change your mind the door is jerked open, answered by a skinny guy in faded black denim. “What’s up?” You think you recognize him from the band.

“Hi…is Matt here?” 

His eyes light up, a smirk pulling his narrow features. “Ohhhhh, you’re the chick from his drawing class!” Then he bellows loud enough for the whole building to hear, “Matt!! Your stripper’s here!” 

Mortified, you are on the verge of turning on your heel and leaving when suddenly Matt appears in the door, maybe as flustered as you are. “Jesus, Layne, shut up.” He pushes his friend away, filling the doorway with his broad-shouldered form. He’s in a white t-shirt, and blue jeans, and if you’re being honest…he looks good enough to eat. “Hey. Sorry about him, he’s an asshole.” 

He runs his fingers through his soft hair nervously, and you feel the sparks as the wires cross in your brain. 

“It’s ok…” It’s not, but what the fuck else can you say?

You follow him into the apartment, which smells of stale beer and weed and unwashed man-children. His friends are watching tv, a cold pizza open on the coffee table. Everything is filthy, and a part of you wants to turn and go again. 

“Aw, don’t hog the girl,” says another one of Matt’s friends. He is big, the mismatched thrift-store chair he sits in clearly on the verge of breaking under his burly weight. When he looks at you you have the unnerving feeling that he is looking through you. “Come hang out.”

“Can’t, Samson. Got a project.”

“Work on it out here!” 

“Yeah, Matt, it’s just art.” They all look at you wolfishly, and it is so completely the opposite vibe of the drawing studio that a part of you wants to bolt like a rabbit. 

“Fuck off, assholes,” Matt says with no real feeling, taking your hand to pull you towards his room. You let him, because you’re not sure what else to do. You feel their gazes between your shoulder blades, a creeping feeling prickling uncomfortably all over your skin. 

“Sorry about them,” he says once he has you inside his tiny bedroom. You can’t help but notice he flips the lock. His friends continue to jeer from the other side, going so far as to throw something heavy at the door. He rifles around to set up his drawing stuff. When he realizes you haven’t moved he asks, “Shit, are you ok?”

The answer is not really, but you shrug it off. “Fine. Where should I sit?” 

His room is messy, but not dirty like the common living area. He moves a pile of clothes and makes a place for you, setting up a desk lamp to mimic the lighting from the drawing studio. “This should do. It’s really cool of you to help me out.” 

“Not a big deal.” You went through the grind before. You know how important it is to do well this first year. The 100 classes are kind of boring, but they really do set the foundation for everything else. 

There’s only one thing left to do. 

You’re not sure why it didn’t occur to you until just now, how charged it would be, to undress while alone in a bedroom with this handsome young man. It doesn’t help that he’s biting his full lower lip, looking at you like a drowning man. 

“Alright. You have to close your eyes.” 

He laughs, those dark orbs sparkling. “What?” 

“Go on. I’ll tell you when you can open them.” 

He doesn’t fight you, doing as you ask and turning his back besides. The difference between him and his friends is such a yawning chasm, you wonder what the hell he’s doing with guys like that. You suppose that sometimes proximity makes strange bedfellows. 

You take off your clothes and arrange yourself. “Ok, you can look.” 

He turns, gazing at you with a softness that tugs all your heartstrings and ties them in knots besides. He glances down at his drawing, then back at you. “Can you move your hand to the left just a hair?” 

You do, and with plenty of tension in the air but no further fuss, he gets to work.

-You stay for three more hours, and the result was worth it. Matt’s drawing takes your breath away, and despite your joke earlier, it’s not vanity. It’s his marks on the paper, the curves and lines and highlights and shadows. It’s beautiful, and you’re very proud of him. 

“I can’t fathom John won’t like this,” you say. Matt makes a face at just hearing his Professor’s name. 

“We’ll see. That dude has it out for me.”

“I think…he just sees you have potential.”

Matt gives you a look, tilting his head so that beautiful hair falls down in a wave. “Are you kidding me?”

“Well…”

“I'm not sure you've noticed this, but I think he likes you.”

You roll your eyes. Maybe that used to be true, but you're pretty sure you ruined it. He was downright distant last class, so cordial it hurt. “I think you're imagining things.”

“Sure, y/n.” Clearly, he's not convinced. “You…want to hang out?” He shoots you a puppy dog look from behind his hair that is hard to resist. 

You smile regretfully. “I have to get going.” You're not just a spoilsport; you really are exhausted.

“Ok, I'll walk you out.” It's settled down outside, and it feels like it's safe to leave. Yet as the two of you are walking past the kitchen the one called Samson blocks your way. 

“Where ya goin? It's early. You should stay.” He fills the whole hallway, impossibly large and seemingly impassable. Every hair raises on your body.

“Sorry…I can't,” you manage to get out, every cell in your body feeling threatened. Of course, your pepper spray is buried deep in the bottom of your purse where you could never get to it in time. 

“Aww. You're no fun.” He reaches up to touch your hair, and you have this sudden sickly feeling like you might die if he lays a hand on you. 

“Dude, chill out.” Matt comes to the rescue, pushing his friend aside like one might an overly friendly Saint Bernard. But you know that even if big dogs seem dumb…they have teeth, and sometimes, they don’t know their own strength. 

“Sorry about him,” he says again as you step outside. Again, you can't help but think that he is waaay too nice to be hanging with these creeps.

“Matt…you're a really nice guy,” you say as you get to your car, wanting to ask him what the deal is with his unsavory company but not sure how. 

“Yeah?” He lights up at hearing this, inching in a little closer with that sideways smile. “Then how come you won't let me kiss you?”

Why do you feel more embarrassed now than fifteen minutes ago when you were sitting in his room with no clothes on? 

“I didn't say I wouldn't…”

This emboldens him enough to step the rest of the way into you, touching his pillow-soft lips to yours gently. He lights up your world, and when you don't pull away his big hands find your waist, his fingertips digging into your skin as he moans against your mouth. 

“You sure you gotta go?” he asks sheepishly, his forehead pressed to yours. His hair is every bit as soft as it looks, you find out, as it curtains your face.

You manage a shaky, “Yeah.” 

Only because you can't stand his roommates. You've decided you will never set foot in that apartment with them there again.

“Bummer.” 

The understatement of the century. You laugh, at your own luck as much as him, smoothing your hands over his muscled chest before patting his cheek lightly. Good lord, what a specimen. “Goodnight, Matt.”

“See you, y/n.”

You drive off, sad to be leaving him. Something about that boy makes you want to wrap him up in your arms, and fight anyone who so much as gives him a sideways look.

That is something to be wary of too, you suppose.

You have no idea that you were being watched by someone from the shadows, snogging your student under the yellow glow of the street light.

----

TBC...

___

->chapter map pinterest board/ photo credits

[cevansbrat0007]

Southern Comfort

Summary: A day after your ex-boyfriend's unexpected return, you show up on Ari's doorstep intending to ask for a little time. Too bad your grumpy bounty hunter isn't feeling particularly charitable.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Some Angst, Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Arguments, Angry Sex, Discussions of Ex-boyfriends, Mentions of Body Image, Mentions of Disordered Eating, Manhandling, Pushing, Discussions of Female Virginity (mentioned), Edging (mentioned), Restraints (mentioned), Brief Allusions to Rape/Forced Sex, Allusions to DubCon/NonCon, Primal Play (mentioned), Ass Slapping, Spanking (mentioned), Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Takes place directly after the events in Case of the Ex, but it is not the sequel. This story is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. Not beta'd. All mistakes my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

“Alright, now. Remember to breathe, sugar.” You mutter as you adjust the skirt of your floral sundress. “You’ll be in and out quicker than a hiccup.” 

Although the day had cooled down considerably since this morning, the temperature still sat at an uncomfortable 88℉. Which therefore meant that you were uncomfortable. Even after a shower and a change of clothes. 

You take one last moment to fluff your curls and reapply your lip gloss before reaching inside your car to pull out a ceramic baking dish, complete with a lid. And then you begin the quiet trek up the concrete walkway. Your stomach is in knots by the time you reach the front door to ring the bell. 

Your teeth begin to worry your bottom lip while you wait, part of you wishing that you could just sit the dish on the front porch and make a beeline for your vehicle. But your Mama hadn’t raised you to be a coward, and neither had your beloved Uncle. God rest their souls. 

So you had to see this through. And once you were done you would head over to your shop and through yourself into work until the sun came up. There was already a crispy chicken salad waiting for you on the passenger seat, accompanied by some reduced fat buttermilk ranch dressing.

Your stomach growls at the thought of food. It was a subtle reminder that you hadn’t eaten much lately, save for the wrap Ari had brought by yesterday. Now that you’d devoured, right along with the chips, salad, and the cookie – all of which had been delicious.

But when it had come time for you to call him that evening as you were locking up, for some reason, you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to do it. Because if he answered, you knew that he was gonna want the skinny on your ex-boyfriend. And you really weren’t prepared to dive into all of that yet.

So you’d decided to shoot Ari a text message after you’d already arrived home for the night, letting him know that you were safe and that you needed time to process the day’s events. After that was done, you’d powered off your phone, content to simply be alone with your thoughts.

And you had yet to turn it back on. Sometimes a girl needed her space.  

In that same vein, you also hadn’t bothered with opening the store today. You’d been a little paranoid about receiving a pop-up visit from Ari or Mason. Or, worse yet, both of them at the same time. Again. 

Seeing him like that had really done a number on you. He’d looked so good standing there in your shop with that same boyish grin of his. It had immediately transported you back to high school, in the most confusing way possible. But at least it hadn’t stirred up any romantic feelings.

In your opinion, Mason Prescott was a lot like double frosted chocolate mud cake. Pretty to look at, but indulge in more than a couple bites and it was liable to make you sick to your stomach.   

Just as your mind begins going down the rabbit hole of comparing problematic men to desserts, the front door is wrenched open to reveal a stern-looking Ari Levinson. He’s barefoot, wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and light gray t-shirt. 

The two of you stand there in silence for a moment, neither of you saying a word. He doesn’t need to communicate the fact that he was worried about you, not when it’s written plain as day all over his gorgeous face. But now, at roughly 6:30 in the evening, he wasn’t just worried. He was downright pissed. 

At you. Oops.  

“Good evening.” Comes your shy greeting once it eventually becomes too much. “I…I was in the neighborhood and figured I’d drop by.” You offer up a lame shrug, wishing that you would’ve practiced your speech a little more before you’d gotten out of your car. 

Ari grunts in response, the seemingly ever-present tick in his jaw growing more pronounced with each passing second. And you can feel your confidence taking a dive as a result. 

“I also wanted to tell you that I was sorry for kicking you out the way I did yesterday. And for texting instead of calling. I was a little ruffled, but I could’ve been a bit more gracious about things.” You force yourself to take a steadying breath. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“Alright.” That’s all you get from him. And now that tempting mouth of his pressed into a thin, firm line. Which did not bode well for you.

“I would’ve called you from the shop, but I decided not to open today so…” Your body sways in the wind as a gentle breeze picks up. Boy did that air feel good on your skin. 

“I know.” Ari replies flatly. “Drove by your house earlier and saw your car. That’s the only reason I hadn’t filed a missing person’s report with Marlon Timmers down at the station.” 

“Oh…”

And that was your confirmation right there. Yes, you had indeed worried this man. Which meant that he’d felt the need to go looking for you. If only to make sure that you were safe. And that a certain Prescott wasn’t taking up real estate in your driveway.     

“I made you somethin’.” Pasting on a smile, you present him with the covered dish you’d brought along with you. “As part of my apology.”  

The bounty hunter hesitates briefly before accepting your offering with a sigh, followed by a quiet “thanks”. And then he turns on his heel to head deeper into the house. Unsure of what else to do, you decide to follow behind him, closing the door as you go.

Besides, you’d much rather continue this discussion indoors anyway.  

“It’s a cobbler.” You find yourself babbling as you both make your way into the kitchen. “A peach cobbler. It’s kind of my specialty, right up there with my brambleberry pie. The secret is a splash of bourbon, plus a dash of vanilla.” 

For some reason unbeknownst to you, your nervous admission stops him dead in his tracks.

“You brought me a…” He trails off as he sucks in a breath, his brain kicking into overdrive. “Is this – is this a breakup cobbler?” You wince when he unceremoniously drops your beloved baking dish onto the counter.

Your eyes go wide at that, his unexpected accusation leaves you bristling. As if you had it in you to be so callous. If you were breaking up with him then you would’ve brought along muffins. Or perhaps a nice iced lemon blueberry loaf.

You had simply come to apologize, and maybe ask for a little time. Nothing too crazy, mind you. Only a few days, really. Maybe week tops. 

“Oh, simmer down now, Beast.” You sniff, clutching your purse under your arm. Clearly he was still smarting about yesterday’s turn of events. But even so, there was no reason for you to conduct yourself as anything but the proper gentlewoman you were raised to be. 

“Duchess, I swear to God….” Ari’s fingers go to the bridge of his nose as he visibly prays for patience. Meanwhile, you’re busy stewing over his ill-treatment of your precious cookware. “If this is a breakup cobbler, I’m gonna spank your ass so hard you won’t sit comfortably for a week.”

That rat bastard! Heat floods your face as your mouth goes slack. Ari Levinson had officially gone too far, which meant that  it was up to you to set him straight.   

“You are unbelievable!” You screech, smacking his chest with your handbag. It feels good, so you do it again. You’re even poised to do it a third time before it’s snatched from your grasp. 

“Oh yeah, baby?” The agitated bounty hunter rakes his fingers through his hair, yanking at the chestnut strands. “Then how come I don’t hear you denying it?”  

“I came here trying to do something nice.” You hiss through gritted teeth. “And to apologize for–”

“For what? Trying to fly away on me? Again?” 

Ari reaches for you, although you’re quick to slap his hand away. With the way you were feeling right now, you were liable to bite him.

“You came here to apologize for being an ass. I’m supposed to say "no big deal". Next comes the part where you ask for space, because you’re confused and you’re scared.” He finishes with a shrug before turning his body so that he can fish something out of a drawer. Seconds later you see that it’s a spoon. “Add that to the fact that you’re falling for me–”

“Oh, fuck you!” You interrupt with a snarl, slamming your hand down on the counter. But your gaze remains trained on his chosen piece of cutlery. 

“I have a feeling we’ll get to that.” Ari jams the utensil into the center of the cobbler. “But first…” He scoops up a hearty helping, grinning at the crumbly bits of crust and juicy peach before raising the spoon to his lips and devouring it in one swift bite. “Mmm. Not bad, baby.” 

Not bad? You inwardly seethe. Not BAD? What that man had in his possession was an award winning cobbler. It was better than excellent. It was fucking legendary. 

Your man chews animatedly, making a show of savoring the decadent mouthful. “Maybe a little heavy on the nutmeg. But as I was saying…” He sucks a stray drop of filling off his thumb. “Between the sudden appearance of our good buddy, Mace, and you being overwhelmed about this thing we’ve got goin’ on…I reckon that you’re feeling a tad out of sorts. Am I right?”

The gall of this man! A red haze colors your vision as his words wash over you, filling you with a slow churning sense of rage. Just who the fuck did Ari Levinson think he was? 

“My cobbler has the perfect amount of cinnamon and nutmeg, you–you uncultured jackass!” You grit out through clenched teeth. 

You could tolerate a lot from folks in this town. But one thing you absolutely would not abide by was someone bad mouthing one of your made-from-scratch confections. You baked with learned skill, as well as passion. It was the one thing you felt you were genuinely good at. 

Which meant that you were about to choke some sense into the gorgeous man standing in front of you. 

“Yeah?” He shovels another spoonful into his mouth. “Then how about you stick around and fight with me about it instead of running off like I know you want to?”

The smug turd gobbler has the nerve to smile at you before helping himself to more gooey, peachy, crumbly goodness. Little did he know that you were this close to slapping him hard enough to make his ears ring.

He wouldn’t even have to stoop down low for you to do it. You were so mad you could practically feel yourself about to levitate.   

“No, thank you. In fact, I think I’ll be going.” You tell him, your tone rife with disdain. “Now hand me my purse and return my sub-par cobbler and I will be on my way.” 

The damned bag had your keys inside it. Next time you left the house intending to make amends you were going to wear something with pockets!

“No.” 

“Excuse me?”  

“Ya know what, Bird?” Ari tosses the spoon into the sink with a clatter before crossing his burly arms over his broad chest. “I’ve just realized that I’m not feeling all that charitable at the moment. Plus, you didn’t say please.” He tacks on the last bit with a cheeky wink.

“Meaning?” 

He has no idea that you’re fantasizing about keying the side of his precious Nissan Titan right now.   

“Meaning that we can either stand here all night sizin’ each other up.” He lets out a resigned sigh. “Or we can take a seat on the couch, or maybe curl up in bed, and talk about what’s got you ready to run for the hills.”

“And I take it there is no option three?” Your hands settle on your hips as you glare back at him. 

“You and that damned option three.” Ari chuckles under his breath, not finding a damn thing amusing. “Well sweetheart, option three involves me cuffing you to my bed and edging the fuck out of that sweet pussy until you tell me whatever it is I wanna know.”

“There isn’t anything to know, Ari!” You all but shout, feeling every bit as frustrated as you sound. “I haven’t seen Mace in damn near five years!”

“Be that as it may, there was still something about his visit that shook you, Bird.” He goes to reach for you again, only to have you dance away. You absolutely did not want to be touched right now. “I saw it then and I see it now.” 

“And if I were to tell you that it’s not a big deal?”

Instead of immediately responding, Ari cocks his head to the side, taking a moment to study you. “Then I would tell you that you’re lying. And not just to me. But to yourself.”  

You look away, temporarily at a loss for words as you wrap your arms around your middle. A middle that was a little too soft for your liking, regardless of how often you seemed to be counting calories these days. 

“I gave him my heart. And he smashed it into a million glittering pieces the first chance he got. I mean, I guess I can’t be too mad since I’m the one who gave him the hammer. Not once, but twice.” You spit as you feel hot tears prick the backs of your eyes. “But even so, do you honestly think I’d be stupid enough to let him do it a third time?”

“Bird.” Your nickname falls from his lips like a soft, urgent plea. But you don’t hear it. Not really.

“I was the fat girl who fell for the jock. Not really all that notable, I suppose. Except in this case that jock just so happened to be the golden boy of Bell’s Creek.” Your arms fall wide before dropping them down at your sides in defeat. “But I didn’t care. Because I was stupid and in love and a fucking virgin when he–” You abruptly cut yourself off when you realize the direction your thoughts are heading. 

You’d already said more than enough. 

“When he what?” Ari’s voice comes out hoarse, barely above a whisper. 

“It doesn’t matter.” You rise up on your toes as you search for an opening to snag your purse.

Because you were through talking about this. It was time for you to head back home, crawl under the covers, and hide there until you could summon the strength to bake every single dessert you could possibly think of using every last bit of the ingredients you had stocked in your kitchen.

And then you would eat them all until you either accidentally gave yourself diabetes or you finally exploded.

“Please talk to me.” This time when Ari takes a step towards you, you beat back a hasty retreat. And you don’t stop moving until you reach his front door. “C’mon, baby, wait!” 

But you didn’t want to wait. What you needed was to be alone. The plan had been to drop off the cobbler, make your amends, and then peace the fuck out. And now it had all gone to shit because you’d allowed Ari Levinson to get under your goddamned skin the way only he could. 

So, you’d walk home and send someone to pick up your car later. If you left now, you’d make it back before the sun had even begun to set. Besides, it wasn’t like you couldn’t use the exercise. 

A firm hand on your arm halts your movements, hauling you backwards against the solid wall of his chest…

Which is when you finally snap.

“I did not give you permission to touch me!” You hiss, turning in the embrace and shoving at him with all your might. However, you know that the only reason the bounty hunter actually lets you go is because you had the element of surprise.

Because holy shit! What the fuck had you just done? 

“Woah, woah.” Ari quickly backs away, his palms raised in surrender. “It’s okay, Bird. I pushed you, so you pushed me. It’s okay. It’s all okay, sweetheart.” You can tell he’s doing his damnedest to keep his tone calm and even so as not to spook you further. 

You give him a shaky nod, feeling more than a little embarrassed by your inability to control your emotions. 

“I’m so–sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” You manage to eek out, even as your bottom lip starts to tremble. You scrub your hands over your eyes as you fight back tears. “There is no excuse.” You tell him, keeping your head bowed as your knees feel wobbly. 

What an awful mess you’d made of this whole thing. Truly.

“Fuck!” He exhales softly, clearly unsure about whether or not it’s okay to touch you. “I don’t want us to end things like this, baby. I really don’t.” Now there’s a note of desperation in his tone that wasn’t there just a few seconds earlier. 

Ari goes quiet, weighing his options as he contemplates the best way forward. At least that’s what you assume he’s doing, since you’re too preoccupied with wishing the earth would swallow you up where you stood. 

“I’d really like to hold you. But I don’t want to scare you. So you’re gonna have to come to me.” He opens his arms to you then, just as you’re ready to fall apart at the seams. “But – and I can’t stress this enough – only if you want to.”

This time you go time without hesitation. And just like always, your man is right there to catch you before you shattered. 

“I’m so sorry I hurt you!” Your words come on the heels of a muffled sob as you cling to him, pulling his body closer to your own as the feelings of remorse threaten to overwhelm you.

“Shh, little Bird. Shh.” Ari murmurs as he lifts you into his arms and carries you into the living room. Once there, he settles you both on the couch, tucking your smaller frame into his own.

He whispers soft, sweet kisses along the damp skin of your brow as he tangles his fingers in your curls to massage your scalp. “I got you. I got you. I got you.” He tenderly rocks you back and forth while he waits for you to calm down.

“Please don’t leave. I swear I didn’t mean it.” You’re babbling now and you know it, but it does manage to earn you a relieved grin from your man. 

“Nobody’s goin’ anywhere, sweetheart. Not you. And definitely not me.” He cups your jaw, gently forcing you to meet his gaze. “We’re just fine, you and me. I’m a big boy. You surprised me, maybe. But you didn’t hurt me.” 

“But I shouldn’t have –” You begin, your eyes blurring with a fresh wave of tears.

“Listen to what I’m saying.” Ari interjects, his tone containing just the right amount of authority to get your attention. “I’m a big boy, baby. I’m talking 6’3, 220 lbs on a good day. I ignored your body's cues, okay? I'm the one who failed to properly read your warning signs and I got in your space – so please hear me when I say that a pretty large piece of this was my fault too.”

You shake your head “no”, because it should go without saying that Ari would never hurt you. At least not on purpose, and never physically. And yet…

“Baby, you went a little primal is all.” He reaches for your hand to press a kiss to your clammy palm. “That’s all that happened. No harm, no foul. We can even play that way one day, if you’re interested. But not unless we’re both on the same page.”

You weren’t quite sure what he was talking about, but for now you’d simply choose to go with it. Because right now you’d need the kind of comfort and reassurance that only your man could provide. 

Needed him to ground you when you felt like you might float away.

“Okay, but I’m still sorry.” You sniffle, gingerly wiping your nose on his t-shirt. Not that he minds overly much.

“I’m sorry too. Not just for pushing you how I did, but for disrespecting your cobbler. Which is divine by the way.”

Now that has you perking up almost immediately. “But you said –”

“Little Bird, I don’t know shit about what goes in a peach cobbler. My nutmeg crack was a shot in the dark meant to piss you off. I figured once I got you talking, you’d spill your guts, I’d take you to bed where you me me promise not to shoot your ex, and then…” Ari trails off as your words from earlier come flooding back to him.

Not wanting to start down this road again, you wrap your arms around his neck before slanting your mouth over his. Your tongue strokes along his plump bottom lip, seeking entrance. Ari responds without hesitation as he buries both hands in your hair, drawing you closer to him.

Right now you needed this man more than you needed air in your lungs. “Please.” You whimper, shifting your body so that you’re now straddling his hips, your legs coming to rest on either side of his thickly muscled thighs. “Please, Ari. I need you. Don’t make me wait.” You nip at his lips, before trailing a fiery litany of kisses along the curve of his jaw. 

A part of your mind screams at you to slow down, to explain yourself. But you quickly silence it once Ari’s skilled hands abandon your curls in favor of your chest. Gripping the bodice of your dress, he manages to rip the lightweight fabric in two on the first try.

“Fuck, baby! Promise we’ll talk after.” He snarls, more to himself than you.

Meanwhile, you eagerly reach behind you to undo the clasp of your bra. You both let out a groan once you finally rid yourself of the garment, your heavy breasts spilling into his waiting palms. Of course he wastes no time before drawing a pouting nipple into his warm, wet mouth - sucking deep. His expert tongue takes turns teasing and laving at the pebbled tip as wetness pools between your thighs.

“After.” You hurriedly reassure him as you pull away long enough to unfasten his jeans. It winds up taking the both of you working together to free his impressive erection from his boxers, nearly sobbing with relief when it's done.

Because you needed him inside you now. 

Needed him to fill you up just right. Wanted him to go so deep that you didn’t have to worry about thinking anymore. All you wanted to feel was him moving inside you. You couldn’t wait to feel that sweet burn you’d come to crave as he stretched you out with his perfect cock. Couldn't wait for him to claim your body with each slow, delicious stroke of his hips. 

Breathing heavy, your hand fists itself around him as you guide his length to your waiting pussy – your panties having been previously torn to shreds. Right now you were so fucking wet for your hunter that you could feel your slick practically dripping down your thighs. 

“God, yes!” You slowly lower yourself on top of him, welcoming your man into tight, velvet heat. And you relish the feel of nearly being split in two as you begin to ride him.

Ari’s head tips back in bliss, offering you his throat as you use him for your pleasure. “Doin’ so good for me, baby. So fuckin’ tight.” He grits out as your walls spasm around his cock, milking him as if your life depended on it. And in some ways it did. 

He slaps your ass, spurring you on. “Harder!” You growl as your teeth graze along the shell of his ear, loving the rough way he squeezes your globes as you work yourselves into a frenzy. “Just like that, Beast. Don’t let go!”

You bury your face in his neck as stars begin to dance behind your eyes at the same time as that invisible coil tightens in your belly, threatening to snap and send your hurtling into oblivion. But you wouldn't go without your man.  

Not without Ari.

“Never, baby.” Without warning, he flips your bodies so that you’re laying on your back, enabling him to take over. He sets a grueling pace – the sounds of slapping flesh and passion-fueled grunts filling the room. “We go together, you and me.” He captures your lips once more, swallowing your heady little cries of pleasure.   

“You and me, Beast! God, yesss!” You keen, as you wrap your legs around his trim waist, your wedge heels digging into the small of his back. “Now fuck me like you mean it.” 

END 

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[pocketjoong]

❥𓂃𓏧WHAT IS A SOULMATE?

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (SYNOPSIS): You and Seonghwa go on a trip across Europe and you use this as an excuse to make a little birthday video for him. But on the day of his birthday, Seonghwa feels nothing but grief as he watches the video you made for him.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (PAIRING) idol!Seonghwa x fem!reader

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (GENRE AND AU/TROPE): fluff. angst. meet-cute. nsfw.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WARNINGS) NSFW! MINORS DNI. oral. fingering. unprotected sex (it’s a big no guys, please use protection and stay safe). pet names (mc is called dove). mentions of food. allusions to and mentions of a serious accident. angst. fluff.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WORD COUNT) 4.3k

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (NOTES) @pyeonghongrie-main :) Here's the promised reupload hehehe

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

London

Outside the confines of your hotel room, silence blankets the city much like the fog that hangs overhead. The first light of dawn is yet to break through the ink-black sky as the metropolis cradles its inhabitants in the silence of the night. This part of the city is still asleep, each soul embraced by the arms of Morpheus, awaiting daybreak to rouse them from their slumber.

Your gaze fixates on the horizon from between the sheer curtains. A pang of anticipation stirs within you, for out of all the alluring sights of nature, sunrise has always been your favourite. After all, regardless of wherever you are in the world, the sunrise is the only constant in the transient nature of life.

Today, however, as the dark black of the night fades to inky blue and splashes of pinks and purples bloom in the east, the only sight you focus on are his eyes. Seonghwa’s eyes are brighter than any galaxy and softer than the cherry blossoms that have begun blossoming on the tree just beyond the terrace. In that moment, you are happy to forego the sight of the beautiful sunrise to watch the coffee and hazel in his eyes melt to form the most gorgeous shade of brown you’ve ever seen.

It won’t be an exaggeration to say that sometimes, you feel like all of your life—each second, each breath, and each step—amounts to Seonghwa. Every decision you have ever made has been a stepping stone in your journey to meet him that one day six years ago when he was only a trainee.

Close to dawn, you had been wandering through the streets of Seoul to find a spark of inspiration for your first-ever project as a photography major. You knew  you wanted to play with the idea of light and dark meeting together to form the most beautiful of sights, and what was a better time to do so than twilight?

So there you were, braving the winter chill for a decent grade while your friends were sleeping soundly, snuggled up in their warm beds.

But it seemed that fate had other plans for you that morning. You took a sip of the coffee you’d bought from the only cafe open at this ungodly hour, forgetting for a moment that it was piping hot. With a wince, you glared at the beige paper cup as if the liquid energy had personally done something to spite you.

A snicker caught your attention, and you turned around to narrow your eyes at the person, only to freeze in your tracks. Wearing a brown, fuzzy coat coupled with dark skinny jeans, the male looked like an angel sent from heaven. The thought that he was a hallucination of your sleep-deprived and cold body crossed your mind, but you discarded the thought when he realised that you’d heard him, and he scrambled to apologise for laughing.

You didn’t know then, but your life was for him. And, it won’t be an exaggeration to say that your life is all him. As winter melted into spring and spring made way for summer, you fell in love with the colour brown: the lush cocoa of Seonghwa’s eyes, sweeter than any hot chocolate you could find, and the tan of his skin, reminiscent of the buttery sweetness of roasted chestnuts. As the weather became humid and the days turned longer, you didn’t even register the beginnings of love taking root in your heart.

It began slowly, like the dripping of water from a tap. Drop by drop, your heart filled with adoration for him. Starting with an appreciation for the awe with which he experienced the world as if doing so for the first time. Then, it became more serious: you found yourself yearning to be around him, to listen to him talk about anything and everything, to be the only one he’d think of as being worthy of his heart.

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, you fell for his voice, a deep baritone with the consistency of honey that you couldn’t get enough of. And the best part? You got to hear it every day before sunrise, for that was his designated time for you in his busy schedule as a trainee and then later as an idol. Dawn was yours, had always been yours, and would always be yours as long as Seonghwa was beside you.

And so, without your knowledge, you fell in love with him bit by bit. You fell as if falling under a spell you couldn’t find a counter for. Not that you wanted to anyway, not when he was there to catch you.

A year later when spring arrived, love and hope sprouted in your heart when Seonghwa’s lips pressed against yours for the first time under the cherry blossoms. He etched himself into the deepest crevices of your soul and your heart. His touch was like that of the sun against your skin after a dark night, igniting your soul in a way that reminded you of fireworks. Under the light of dawn, as he kissed you, you learned a truth. Like the sunrise, Seonghwa is the only constant in your life.

“What are you thinking about?” His soft whisper pulls you out of your reminiscing, and you find yourself gazing into his wide eyes that are brimming with affection and curiosity.

Even after years of being with Seonghwa, the way he looks at you as if you are the one who hung the moon in the sky always floors you. Your skin tingles at the warmth and adoration in his gaze.

“You,” lost in way his thumb grazes against your waist, the word slips out of your lips without a second thought. You almost curse at yourself for being so taken with him when you see a devilish smirk pull at his lips.

“Is that so, my dove?” Chuckling, he lets himself get closer to you, if that’s even possible, considering how you’re basically pressed against him. His hands rise to cup your face, drawing you to his lips.

You lose yourself in the warmth of his mouth. His kisses are softer at first, but soon, his lips are moving insistently against yours. His teeth sink gently into your bottom lip, and he swallows the moan that leaves you almost hungrily. Seonghwa’s hand slides up the side of your body to slide your nightgown off you, exposing you to the chilly morning air.

He pulls back from you momentarily, the loss making you whine, but the protest dies in your throat when he gazes at you with nothing but love and adoration. In what little light filters through the sheer curtains, he looks ethereal with his glowing bronze skin. His dark hair is messy, and yet he manages to look as if he’d just stepped out of the pages of a manhwa. As if knowing what’s going through your head, a soft smile pulls at his lips.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he breathes, voice thick with sleep and desire.

“Like what?” You ask, your own hands finding purchase against his shoulders.

“Like I’m the damn sunrise.”

“You’re more breathtaking than any sunrise I’ve ever seen, Hwa,” you cradle his cheek in your palm, words ringing with sincerity as you gaze at your boyfriend.

Seonghwa ducks down at your words, hiding his face in your neck as you chuckle at the way he reacts to your compliment. Your amusement doesn’t last long, however, when he leans down further to lave his tongue against the marks his teeth had left against the column of your neck the night before. His teeth sink into your skin, cutting you off mid-laughter, while his palms come to cup your exposed breasts, and you find yourself arching into his touch. 

You watch Seonghwa descend the length of your body, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses wherever his lips can reach. His hands slither downwards, fingers digging into your thighs to spread your legs open for him. Bringing his mouth to your core, he smirks when you let out a broken moan, bucking into his mouth. Seoghwa keeps his eyes on you as he devours you.

“Hwa—” you choke back a moan, reaching for him with a trembling hand. You pull him to your lips, tasting yourself on his tongue. “Want you. Please.”

“My beautiful dove.” Seonghwa breathes reverently. His hands are gentle against your waist, cradling you close to him while his lips trace their way up your jaw to meet yours in a sloppy kiss. 

As the sun rises over the Thames River, he ravishes you with a gentleness that feels like the first touch of warmth of the morning light.

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

Madrid

“Are you recording me?” Seonghwa laughs, walking backwards on the sidewalk as you fumble with the camera—it’s heavier than what you’re used to—but you don’t mind because you’re more concerned about the quality of the video than anything else.

You can’t help but grin at the sight in front of you: Seonghwa in a beret and a long, dark coat that he has paired with jeans contrasts so well with the potted geraniums in front of the restaurant you had stopped to get breakfast at. The flowers herald the happiness blossoming in your chest at the sight of your lover glowing like the sun while surrounded by the the tell-tale signs of the approaching spring.

Seonghwa jokes that these flowers are blooming because it is his first time visiting Europe with you. You laugh off his silly comment, but in your heart of hearts, you can’t help but agree with him. It’s almost as if nature wants you to document the most beautiful sights while you record Seonghwa in the cities you are visiting.

Before you can answer him, something catches his eyes, and before you know it, he is dragging you to a toy store he has spotted on the other side of the road. His smile as he eagerly scours the store for something to buy reminds you of sunlight upon the tides, bright and blinding as the sun itself on the waves that lap gently at the shore.

Seonghwa makes his way to the sunglasses, trying on the goofiest ones, making you giggle. Encouraged by your laughter, he continues to make a fool of himself, pulling funny expressions for the camera and not caring if people are giving him funny looks. At one point, he tries the poison green alien sunglasses, and despite you laughing at how atrocious the design is, you can’t help but think how easily he can pull off even the most ridiculous of accessories with grace.

Behind him, you spot something that makes you gasp, and you rush to the shelves to grab one of the Toothless plushies. Turning around with purpose, you’re caught off guard by how close Seonghwa is, but you don’t let it faze you.

“Look, Hwa! I found you on the shelf,” you giggle at him, holding the plushie up so that it lines up with his face.

He rolls his eyes fondly, used to such jokes by the rest of ATEEZ and his fans. Despite that, he takes the plushie from your hands and puts it on his head, allowing you to capture him with ease. His touch is careful as he holds the plushie, similar to how he handles everything he lays his hands on. Delicate and light, he touches everything he comes across with care, and that’s one of the reasons you find him endearing—for he’s one of the few people who truly take the time to appreciate the beauty the world has to offer.

“If I’m Toothless, doesn’t that mean you’re my Light Fury?” You watch the way his eyes scan the shelves for something.

“I guess,” you shrug, chuckling as you help him in his search for a plushie of the said dragon.

“Do you think we should buy these?” Seonghwa asks, interrupting your search, and you turn to find him holding up the two plushies. He glances at the two stuffed toys—Toothless and the Light Fury—with his eyes furrowed as he weighs the pros and cons of buying both.

“You have multitudes of these back home, Hwa.” You remind him, in fact, he has so many plushies and figurines that he had to store some in your apartment because his manager had threatened that he would throw them out if he saw one more of the HTTYD-themed merch.

“But—”

“Hwa.”

“Fine, break my heart, why don’t you?” And with a pout, he places them back on the shelf reluctantly. You know he’s joking because when you gesture towards the plushies later on, he shakes his head with a smile.

Throughout the day, you explore the city with him, telling him everything you had learned about the places from the little tourist booklet you had snagged from the hotel that morning. He listens to you earnestly, watching you talk with a smile as admiration settles under his skin.

Later in the night, you find yourself in a cafe. Taking a deep breath, you inhale the scent of coffee that permeates your immediate surroundings. Since the cafe is basically empty at this time of the night, a sense of tranquillity surrounds you, much like the warm coat Seonghwa has draped over you. You watch late stragglers making their way home from their jobs through the window you’re seated against, hands curled against a warm cup of hazelnut latte.

“Dove,” Seonghwa’s quiet voice comes from next to you, causing you to snuggle into his shoulder, humming for him to continue. “Don’t fall asleep. We have to walk back to the hotel.”

“Shall we leave, then?” Stifling a yawn, you ask, causing him to nod.

He leads you out of the cafe, keeping his hand on your lower back as you walk through the sparsely populated streets. The very next moment, however, it begins to rain out of nowhere, and before you know it, you are being drenched in the downpour.

Seonghwa laughs in surprise but turns his face upwards to allow the raindrops to kiss his cheeks. Even though the world is blurred around you and your vision is warped by the drops in your eyes, you can still see him clearly. He basks in the rain, lets himself get drenched by the droplets cascading down his face, neck, and shoulders. The rain is so heavy that the raindrops make streams as they make their way down his body.

Watching him like this, you find yourself reaching out for him. As if on the same wavelength as you, Seonghwa takes your hand in his, lips curling up in a smile when you entangle your fingers with his. Reaching out, he cups your face gently, and it seems as if the world stops around you, your senses failing to register anything beyond his touch. Seonghwa trails his thumb along your lips, wiping the raindrops that have settled across your skin.

Drenched in the downpour with him, it’s easy to think of Seonghwa as the rain and yourself as the earth that craves rain after a dry spell.

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

Seoul

The wallpaper drips with grief, mimicking the gloom that has taken root in his heart and doesn’t seem to want to leave. The glow of the streetlights filters through the windows and is the only source of light in his dark room. In the centre of the whirlpool of dread and darkness lies Seonghwa, curled up against the messy sheets he can’t bother to straighten.

The silence is uncanny. He’s not used to it—for years, he has shared a room with Hongjoong, and even though, more often than not, the younger male wasn’t actually there because he preferred the studio or the living room couch to the bedroom, the mere idea of sharing a room with someone always made him feel at ease. Hongjoong has been Seonghwa’s anchor in the years he roomed with him, but now alone in his room, the walls seem to press in around him like waves trying to drown him, leaving him breathless.

If Hongjoong is his anchor, you are his beacon, his guiding light, his polestar. And tonight, as his ship is battered by the biggest storm he’s ever faced, you aren’t here either. Desperately, he searches for something to ground him, but too many days and nights filled with sorrow and false optimism have built up and around him, crushing him with a weight he can’t handle anymore. When love wasn’t enough to save you, how can it be enough to help him stay afloat in the rough seas?

Outside of his room, spring touches everything with its delicate hands. For Seonghwa, however, winter still lingers, and the beautiful weather outside just irks him further. He hasn’t been in love for the last week, and even nature cannot revive him this time around. Without love in his heart, the only thing he feels is despair.

Even now, he can’t forget the way red painted his hands as you lay in his arms. Sometimes, when he squeezes his eyes shut hard enough, he can see your smile. In the very same moment, his heart opens and breaks when the image of you in his arms dances across his vision, and he dies again and again, bleeds until there’s only a shell left behind.

The beeping of his digital clock startles him. The digits read 00:00, distorted from the tears that line his lashes but never seem to fall. For a long time, he had thought today would make the pain bearable, but it persists, lingering in his heart and his room like stubborn rain clouds that linger even after the storm has passed. It is possible that you may not return to him, but he tries to remain optimistic. If he doesn’t believe you to be strong enough to fight for him, for your love, then who will? 

His phone dings, and he looks at the device for a moment. Each beep of his phone has, till now, started him into a sitting position, and every time, it has not what he expected. But foolishly, he still hopes for a miracle.

His phone dinging again with the custom notification he had set for you has Seonghwa scrambling to check his phone. It’s a scheduled email, but your name lighting up the screen renders him breathless. At the sight of your name, the storm raging around him quietens down, leaving him in calm seas. There’s a video attached with the email, and he clicks it open.

[Exterior. Mid-morning. Shots of the streets of London from a car. In the foreground, the text reads Happy Birthday, Seonghwa! A female’s voice is heard speaking in the voiceover.]

Y/N: What’s a soulmate?

[The camera pans and focuses on Seonghwa as he looks out of the window, pointing at all the things he remembers from the few times he has been there with ATEEZ for concerts.]

SH: And that’s the cafe Jongho liked a lot. He said the coffee there was amazing. We should definitely visit it after we’ve settled in hotel room, you look like you could do with some caffeine in your system.

Y/N: [laughing] Not everyone is used to sleeping in aeroplanes.

SH: [shaking his head, he sniffs as if wounded by your comments] Well, if you toured with me, you’d be used to it. You’re the only one who keeps declining when I ask you to come with me! My poor self has to live without you for months just because you won’t agree.

Y/N: Your idea of bringing me along includes you stuffing me into your suitcase. Sorry if I don’t want to be thrown around with the other luggage.

SH: [snorting] It’s your fault for being so small.

Y/N: [sighing] Whatever, Hwa.

[Midday. The video cuts to a shot of Seonghwa walking along the Thames river. He has his arms wrapped around himself. The sky is covered with fluffy clouds, and one can tell that spring is fast approaching with the way little green buds are seen on the trees in the background.]

Y/N: It’s a… Well, it’s like a best friend, but more.

SH: It’s so cold!

Y/N: Should we go and get something to warm us up from the cafe you pointed out earlier? I think it’s close to where we are right now.

[The video cuts to the two of you inside the cafe. The camera is placed on one side, allowing it to capture both Seonghwa and you. You’re laughing at Seonghwa, who took a sip from your iced americano and immediately made a face at the taste. The video skips a bit and Seonghwa can be seen humming along to the music from the speakers while you watch him, enraptured by his vocals.]

Y/N: It’s the one person in the world who knows you better than anyone else.

[The video cuts again. This time, Seonghwa is in a hotel room, standing against the backdrop of the Eiffel Tower and posing goofily while you are laughing in the background. He waddles over to the camera, forcing you to put it on the table as he twirls you around, dancing to a song he’s humming.]

Y/N: It’s someone who makes you a better person.

[The video cuts to a closeup of Seonghwa’s head in your lap as you sit on the couch. He’s sleeping soundly while you run your fingers through his soft hair. His lips quirk upwards in a smile, causing you to halt your motions, but a whine from him has you resuming your actions.]

Y/N: [soft whisper] Did I wake you up?

SH: [hums and shakes his head] Not really… [yawns] I wasn’t fully asleep.

[There’s silence for a while as Seonghwa shifts around to get comfortable.]

SH: I love you.

Y/N: That was so random, Hwa.

SH: Hey! You’re supposed to say you love me too!

Y/N: [snorting] I love you, you overgrown child.

SH: I’ll have you know that’s Wooyoung.

Y/N: Don’t let him hear you say that. He’ll bite your arm off or something.

SH: [laughing hard]

Y/N: Actually, they don’t make you a better person, you do that yourself… because they inspire you.

[The video cuts to Seonghwa amidst the geraniums in Madrid before he drags you to the MINISO. His shenanigans from the store can be seen, with him wearing goofy sunglasses and playing with the Night Fury plushie.]

Y/N: A soulmate is someone who you can carry with you forever.

[Seonghwa can be seen busking with a guy playing the guitar. He sings Angel Baby by Troye Sivan, smiling wide when you start swaying one of your hands in beat with the music, causing people to follow your actions. When he’s done, people come up to him, telling him that he’s an amazing singer, and he thanks everyone with a bashful smile while watching you look at him with a look of pride on your face.]

Y/N: It’s the one person who knew you and accepted you… Believed in you before anyone else did or when no one else would. 

[Seonghwa excuses himself from the crowd and makes his way towards you, wrapping his arms around your frame and sways the two of you as the busker starts crooning a song in Danish.]

SH: Thank you for always believing in me, dove. Especially when I didn’t believe in myself.

Y/N: [smiling] I love you, and I’ll cheer you on, especially during the darkest days.

Y/N: And no matter what happens, you will always love them. 

[The camera pans to you in your editing studio, and you wave at the camera with a smile on your face.]

Y/N: It’s quite late [glancing at the clock on your desk], 3 a.m. to be precise, and I’m working on your birthday video. [Laughs] I hope you like this little video I put together with clips from our trip to Europe. Give me a call once you’re done watching this. I love you so much, Hwa! Happy Birthday, my star!

Y/N: Nothing can ever change that.

Seonghwa wipes his tears, sniffing as he gets up from the bed. With a meticulousness characteristic of him, he goes through the motions of dressing up to pay you a visit. That’s the only thing that seems to make sense, so with bleary eyes and heavy feet, he walks through the deserted streets of Seoul.

The staff members at the hospital allow him to see you, used to his untimely visits. The nurse watching over you gives him a sad smile and leaves him alone with you when he enters your room. He notes that the pallor that had settled beneath your skin is now fading, albeit slowly. 

Maybe you’re getting better? But you still haven’t woken up, and seeing your face, he finds himself falling, falling through the memories of the day of the accident. His eyes close of their own accord, and he sighs, trying to get those images out of his mind. Unable to stop his thoughts, he relives the day all over again.

Logically, he knows the accident isn’t his fault but of the person who was behind the wheel.

Or maybe it was, the voice in his mind tells him.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he can’t forgive himself for the events that led up to the accident. If he hadn’t called you to pick him up from the company that night when it was raining, you’d be safe in his arms, celebrating his birthday with him.

No, it wasn’t. Seonghwa desperately wants to believe his own words. But there’s still that small voice of doubt that rears its ugly head, and before he knows it, fresh tears are rolling down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. Seonghwa is too emotionally exhausted and too choked to speak any louder. “My dove, I’m so sorry for this whole mess. I’m sorry. Please wake up soon. I can’t do this alone—I can’t live without you. Please. I love you.”

[luvismenu]

chap: 14 — push comes to shove pt.1 ✎ ,, index

warnings: some violence (punching, slapping, etc.) like boyfriend mv vibes hehe

wc: 5.2k+

note: this chapter ended up being pretty long, so i decided to break it into two parts. i know i said i’d update sooner, and i’m really sorry for the delay,, i got sick (still not fully recovered, but i’m managing lol) anyway, have fun reading!! thanks for being patient with meee y’all are the best 🤍

the music is loud, the kind that vibrates through your chest, and the room is dimly lit with hues of neon lights bouncing off the walls. yoongi’s place is packed, a mix of familiar faces and strangers, and the atmosphere is lively, buzzing with conversation and laughter.

you step inside, scanning the crowd. you opted for something simple tonight, a black dress that wasn’t too flashy but still hugged your figure just right. paired with a delicate silver necklace and minimal makeup, you looked effortlessly put together. it wasn’t meant to stand out, but there was an understated elegance to it, pretty in a way that didn’t try too hard.

you told yourself maybe it's a bad ideato come, but here you are, searching for a familiar face to make this feel less awkward.

you came here alone. because why wouldn’t you? it’s not like you have a long list of people to bring along. jason isn’t exactly your friend either, you’re starting to get tired of this whole “act” you’ve been putting on.

it feels childish now.

but was he making it any better?

you don't even wanna think about him right now.

you spot yoongi in the living room, a drink in his hand. he looks different tonight. no plain t-shirts or oversized hoodies. instead, he’s in a sleek jacket, skinny jeans and his hair neatly styled. it catches you off guard for a moment.

you weave through the crowd to get to him, and he greets you with a wide smile.

“you’re here!” he chimes, sounding genuinely pleased.

“hey, yoongi,” you say with a small smile.

“come on, let’s get you a drink,” he says, already turning towards the kitchen. you follow after him, trailing behind as he makes his way through the bustling party.

“oh, i don’t really wanna drink tonight,” you mumble hesitantly.

“don’t worry, we’ve got non alcoholic stuff too,” he says with a grin, glancing back at you before continuing towards the kitchen.

as soon as you step in, you see him.

jungkook.

he’s leaning against the counter, a drink in hand. his black shirt fits him perfectly, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the intricate tattoos on his forearm. his hair is slightly messy, but it only adds to the way he looks tonight— so fucking good.

his eyes flick up, and they meet yours. for a second, the noise of the party seems to fade, leaving just the two of you locked in that brief moment.

he’s the first to look away. slowly, he raises his drink to his lips, taking a long sip as if he hasn’t noticed the way your gaze lingered.

you snap out of it, forcing yourself to turn towards yoongi.

“here you go!” yoongi’s voice cuts through your thoughts, and you turn back to him. he’s holding out a glass, a playful smirk on his face.

“yoongi,” you whisper harshly, leaning closer so only he can hear, “you said he wouldn’t be here!”

“did i?” he says, like he's amused.

“yoongi,” you glare, your tone warning him, but he only shrugs, sipping his drink like he’s enjoying the chaos.

“i don’t recall saying that.” he raises an eyebrow like he's innocent.

“you totally did,” you mutter, crossing your arms.

he grins, leaning against the wall. “well, maybe i thought it’d be good for you two to talk. y’know, settle... whatever this is.”

“there’s nothing to settle,” you snap, though your eyes unconsciously dart towards jungkook. he’s laughing at something a guy next to him is saying.

that fucker. how is he so happy?

“really? because the way you’re looking at him says otherwise,” yoongi teases.

you glare at him, taking the drink from his hand. “you’re the worst.”

“thank you, i try,” he says, unfazed, before taking a sip of his own drink. “just... tthink about it, yeah? you’re not doing yourself any favors by avoiding him.”

“i’m not avoiding him,” you lie, sipping the non-alcoholic drink.

yoongi’s shrugs. “sure, whatever you say.”

you roll your eyes and move past him, heading towards the other side of the room. the last thing you want is to stand here while yoongi reads you like a book.

as you weave through the crowd again, you accidentally bump into someone.

“oh, sorry,” you mumble before looking up and it's—

“jason? w-what?” you stammer, caught off guard. of all the people, you didn’t expect to see him tonight.

“oh hey, ___!! my dearest!” he slurs, swaying slightly.

great. he’s drunk.

“what are you doing here?” you ask.

“i’m friends with yeri, and yeri is friends with jimin, and jimin is friends with yoongi, and sooo i am here!! what about you?” he asks, his words slightly jumbled.

“oh...” you hesitate, mostly because you don’t know any of the people he just mentioned. “that’s great, i’m friends with yoongi, so...” you trail off, forcing a polite smile.

jason makes an exaggerated "o" face, nodding as if everything suddenly clicks into place. “got it. makes total sense,” he says

before you can respond, he claps his hands. “i’ll be getting more drinks! you stay here!” he announces and stumbles off somewhere

you sigh, shaking your head slightly when a voice from behind startles you.

“who the fuck is that?” yoongi asks.

“just a classmate,” you reply, turning to him.

“you invited him?” he asks, clearly surprised.

“what? no! of course not,” you say quickly. “apparently, he knows one of your friends.”

yoongi hums in thought, glancing toward the kitchen where jason disappeared. after a pause, he looks back at you. “well, did you talk to him?”

“jason? yeah, i just did. you saw us—”

“not him, you idiot. jungkook,” yoongi interrupts, his tone matter-of-fact.

you freeze for a second, unsure how to answer.

yoongi waits for your response but you don't give him any. “are you planning on talking to him, or are you both just going to keep this cold war going?”

“it’s not a cold war,” you mutter defensively, taking a sip of your drink to avoid his gaze.

“could’ve fooled me,” yoongi quips, clearly unimpressed.

you frown, gripping your glass tighter. “i don’t want to, okay?”

yoongi’s expression shifts slightly, his frown mirroring yours. “why not?”

you glance over his shoulder, and your heart sinks. there she is again. the woman you've been seeing him with a lot these days. she’s making her way to jungkook, her giggles carrying over the noise of the party as she approaches him with the same bright smile that always makes your chest tighten.

“looks like he has company already,” you mutter, glaring at them both before looking back at yoongi. your irritation is written all over your face.

yoongi follows your gaze, glancing behind him to see what—or rather, who—you’re talking about. when he spots a woman leaning towards jungkook, laughing at something he’s said.

yoongi sighs.

“really?” he mutters, clearly fed up with whatever game the two of you are playing. before he can say more, jason reappears, interrupting the moment.

“i’m back!” jason declares, holding up two drinks triumphantly. he flashes you a bright smile, his enthusiasm nearly contagious.

you force a smile in return, trying to focus on him. jason leans closer, his voice raised to be heard over the noise. “so, what were we talking about?” he asks, his hand brushing lightly against your arm.

but it’s hard to pay attention. because you can feel jungkook’s eyes on you.

he notices everything. the way jason leans closer to you, the way his hand lingers on your arm, and the way you smile, even if it’s forced. his jaw tightens, and his grip on his glass stiffens.

he looks back at the woman in front of him, trying to focus on her words, but his attention keeps drifting to you. he hates how easily you’ve managed to get under his skin, and he hates even more how much it bothers him to see you with someone else.

“what the fuck are you doing?” yoongi whisper yells as he steps up to jungkook, his tone sharp.

“what are you talking about?” jungkook asks, brows furrowing in confusion.

before yoongi can respond, mia, who’s been hovering nearby, chimes in, “is there a problem?” her tone is overly sweet, though there’s a hint of curiosity behind it.

“i need to talk to my friend here,” yoongi snaps, barely sparing her a glance. mia blinks, clearly taken aback, but eventually steps away with a soft, “okay...”

once she’s out of earshot, yoongi turns back to jungkook, his voice low but firm. “what are you doing, jungkook? you’re supposed to talk to her tonight. and who the hell is this? do you seriously think flirting with some new girl is going to make ___ talk to you?”

jungkook’s jaw tightens, his fingers curling around his glass. he takes a steadying breath before responding. “i don’t know why mia’s here! i didn’t invite her. i just saw her walk in, and now she’s sticking around. and i’m not flirting with her,” he grits out, his eyes darting to where you’re standing with jason.

his gaze darkens, his voice dropping further. “unlike ___, with that guy again. i don’t even know what she sees in him to keep inviting him everywhere.”

yoongi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “she didn’t invite him, genius. from what i heard, he came with someone else. probably a mutual friend.”

jungkook pauses, caught off guard. “oh,” he mumbles, his frustration momentarily replaced with guilt.

yoongi shakes his head. “maybe stop jumping to conclusions and actually talk to her? before this gets even messier.”

jungkook exhales heavily, glancing at you one more time. “easier said than done,” he mutters.

you're dancing with jason.

his hands rest a little too firmly on your waist, and your own are draped loosely on his shoulders. it feels close—too close—and awkwardly uncomfortable. but he had insisted, practically begged, that you dance instead of standing awkwardly against the wall.

the music shifts to something soft, slower, and less chaotic, and you’re both swaying, though your mind is elsewhere. you try not to think about how unsteady he feels, his movements jerky. he’s clearly had too much to drink, and you're silently praying he doesn’t throw up on you.

“this is turning me on, not gonna lie,” he slurs, giggling in a way that sends alarm bells ringing in your head.

you scrunch your nose in distaste, forcing a polite smile as he twirls you clumsily. during the spin, your eyes accidentally meet jungkook’s across the room. he’s leaning against the wall, his drink in hand, but his gaze is sharp, fiery. his jaw clenches as he watches you, and the way he's looking at you makes you falter for a moment.

you gulp, suddenly feeling like you’re crossing a line. maybe this was too much. maybe yoongi was right. you should talk to him, clear the air before things spiral further out of control.

but just as you decide to step back, ready to distance yourself from this unnecessary drama, you feel jason’s hands slide lower. far too low.

“what the fuck are you doing?” you snap, pushing him away immediately. he stumbles back, blinking at you with confusion.

“what?” he slurs again, smirking lazily. “i thought you wanted this. you want me, right?”

he moves forward, his hands hovering near your waist again, and you take another step back, your heart racing in frustration and unease.

“jason, you’re drunk. stop it,” you warn, your voice firm.

but before he can close the gap again, a blur of motion overtakes the scene. a strong arm swings forward, and suddenly, jason is stumbling backward, clutching his face in shock. the sound of the impact echoes through the room, drawing gasps from everyone nearby.

your eyes widen as you process what just happened.

jungkook is standing in front of you, breathing heavily, his fists clenched tightly.

“stay the fuck away from her,” he growls, his voice low and deep.

jason, still clutching his nose, straightens up, blood dripping slightly as he glares at jungkook. “what the fuck is your problem dude?” he yells, and without a second thought, he manages to stand up and lunge at jungkook.

and jungkook doesn’t hesitate. as jason lunges towards him, his fist connects with jason's jaw before he can even get close. the impact sends jason stumbling back again, crashing into a nearby table. glasses clink and drinks spill as the crowd gasps louder, and a few of them cheering for them to fight.

“jungkook, stop!” you shout, but he’s already advancing towards jason again.

thankfully, before he can land another punch, yoongi and two other guys rush towards him, grabbing jungkook’s arm. “enough, jungkook,” he says sharply, his voice cutting through the chaos.

the two guys follow close behind, quickly positioning themselves between the two men. the silver haired guy crouches by jason, helping him sit up, while the blonde hair guy places a firm hand on jungkook’s chest to hold him back.

“calm the fuck down,” the blonde guy says, his voice low but commanding. jungkook glares at him, his chest heaving, but he doesn’t make a move to push him away.

“this is not the place for this,” yoongi adds, his eyes darting between jungkook and jason. he exhales sharply, clearly frustrated. “jimin, get him out of here before he causes more trouble.”

“on it,” the silver haired guy; jimin mutters, helping jason to his feet. jason groans in protest, but jimin’s grip is firm. “let’s go, dude. you’ve had enough for tonight. taehyung help me,” jimin calls out to the blonde guy.

jason throws one last glare at jungkook before letting jimin and taehyung lead him away.

yoongi turns to you. “you,” he says, nodding towards jungkook, “take care of him. get him to calm down before he does something even dumber.”

you blink, stunned. “me?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“yes, you,” yoongi says impatiently. “you’re the only one he’ll listen to right now.”

jungkook doesn’t argue, though his jaw tightens at yoongi’s words. you hesitate for a moment, but the tension in the room is palpable, and you know this isn’t the time to question anything.

“fine,” you say softly, stepping forward. “come on,”

jungkook glances at you, his gaze softening just a fraction as he lets out a shaky breath. without a word, he follows you out of the room, away from the crowd and the prying eyes.

you’re in a bathroom with jungkook. the tension is thick, the air heavy with unspoken words. your eyes fall to his knuckles, noticing the faint smears of blood.

“sit,” you say firmly, crossing your arms.

“where?” he asks, his tone flat, though there’s a flicker of defiance in his gaze.

you sigh, pointing to the empty counter near the sink. “there.”

with a reluctant shrug, he pushes himself up, sitting on the counter as you grab a clean cloth and wet it with warm water.

“show me your hands,” you say, holding out your own.

he doesn’t move, just stares at you, his jaw clenched.

you frown. “don’t be a jerk now, jungkook. just let me see.”

he finally scoffs, his voice filled with bitterness. “oh, i’m the jerk? really?”

you pause, the cloth in your hand dripping slightly. “yes, you are. what else do you call a guy punching someone in the middle of a party?”

his gaze sharpens, frustration flickering across his face. “you’re really gonna act like you likef his hands all over you?”

his words hit you like a slap. “it wasn’t like that,” you mutter, your voice quieter now as you look away.

“yeah?” he counters, leaning forward slightly, his tone cutting. “because it was clear that you didn't like it. i mean, what are you doing? laughing with him, letting him get close... what the hell is that about?”

you glance back at him, meeting his piercing stare. “you don’t get to talk about letting people get close,” you shoot back.

his jaw tenses, and for a moment, it seems like he’s searching for the right words, but nothing comes. instead, he exhales sharply, leaning back slightly on the counter.

you take a shaky breath, “she was practically attached to your side the entire night. was that for my benefit? huh?”

he doesn’t answer immediately, his knuckles curling slightly. “this isn’t about mia,” he says lowly.

“and it’s not about jason,” you fire back.

you're right, it's about us, he wants to say, the words resting heavily on the tip of his tongue. but he doesn't.

the silence that follows is heavy, the only sound the faint dripping of water from the cloth. you take his hand gently, finally cleaning the blood from his knuckles, your movements softer now. your brows furrow when you don’t find any visible bruise or injury beneath it.

“there’s nothing here,” you mumble, more to yourself than to him, as you examine his hand closely.

jungkook notices it too, tilting his head slightly to look at his own hand. “guess it wasn’t my blood,” he mutters.

you glance up at him, your lips pressing into a thin line. “you hit him hard, though,” you say quietly.

his eyes flick to yours, something unreadable passing through them.

“he fucking deserved it,”

silence, again.

“this isn’t getting us anywhere,” you whisper, your voice breaking slightly.

he watches you, “then what do you want, ___? because i’m tired of this. of us pretending we’re fine when we’re clearly not.”

“you think you’re the only one who’s tired of this?” you snap, your brows furrowing as you glare at him.

jungkook’s eyes darken, his jaw tightening. “oh, so now you’re the victim?” he shoots back

“i’m not saying that!” you huff, crossing your arms. “but you act like you’re the only one affected. do you think this is easy for me?”

he scoffs too. “you don’t make it seem like it’s hard. you’ve been parading around with jason like nothing happened!”

“are you serious right now? what about you? you're with miss ‘missing in action’ every time i see you!” you counter, your voice rising slightly.

“that’s not the same, and you know it!” he snaps, leaning closer, his chest heaving.

“why? because you say so?” you fire back, refusing to back down.

“because i don’t want her! i—” he cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair, “fuck, you're so stubborn”

“and you’re fucking impossible!” you protest, your voice trembling with anger.

the air is thick and suffocating. his eyes lock with yours, and for a moment, neither of you move, breathing hard from the argument.

then, suddenly, he leans forward, his hand gripping your jaw as his lips crash against yours. it’s not soft or gentle— it's messy and desperate and maybe a little... angry.

you hesitate for a second, your mind spinning, but then you give in, clutching at his shirt as you kiss him back just as angrily. his hands slide down to your waist, pulling you closer as you stand between his legs.

you pull back first, your chest heaving as you both stare at each other, wide eyed and breathless.

“what the fuck are we doing?” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“i don't know,” he mutters

before you can kiss him back again, the door swings open, and yoongi stands there, staring at you both. his eyes take in the scene; jungkook’s hands on your waist, the way you’re practically in each other’s faces.

you step back quickly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. jungkook rubs a hand over his face, clearly annoyed.

“i am not letting you two fuck in my house,” yoongi says flatly

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “we weren’t doing anything.”

“yeah, nothing,” jungkook adds, stepping off the counter to stand beside you, though he avoids looking at yoongi.

“good,” yoongi replies, his tone sharp. “because that's not why i sent you here."

you frown, confused. “what?”

yoongi falters slightly, realizing how that sounded. “no, i mean—well—”

“so you both set this up?” you ask. your gaze shifts to jungkook, who shakes his head quickly.

“no, no, i—” he stammers.

“look,” yoongi cuts in, holding up his hands, “i lied about jungkook not coming, but i had nothing to do with the whole jason situation. that wasn’t me. but it's good that you're finally talking, right?”

you let out a frustrated sigh, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “unbelievable,” you mutter, brushing past yoongi to leave the bathroom.

“___, wait—” jungkook starts, but you’re already gone.

yoongi watches you storm off, then turns to jungkook with a pointed look. “well, that went great.”

“not helping,” jungkook mutters and runs after you.

as you walk briskly to the front door, your heels clicking against the floor, you hear jungkook calling your name. the sound of his footsteps grows louder as he catches up to you.

“___, stop, let’s talk. please.” his hand reaches out, grabbing your arm gently but firmly.

you shrug him off, letting out a bitter laugh. “now you want to talk? how convenient.”

“___, stop!” he says again, his tone sharper this time as he steps in front of you, forcing you to face him.

you gasp, startled by his sudden movement, your chest heaving with frustration. “don’t you dare raise your voice at me,” you snap, pointing a finger at him, your anger boiling over.

“oh, but it’s fine when you do?” he fires back, his own frustration bubbling to the surface. his words hit you, and for a brief moment, you falter, your breath catching in your throat.

“don’t you see how fucked up this is?” he continues, his voice low but intense. “we’re just acting like children, throwing tantrums instead of dealing with this like adults!”

your eyes narrow, your heart pounding in your chest. “and is it my fault that you started liking me when we both said this was supposed to be nothing?”

his jaw tightens, and he falls silent, your words sinking in as he stares at you, his expression unreadable.

“you like me,” he says, his voice steady, and your world comes to a halt.

“w-what?” you stammer, your voice barely a whisper. you want to respond, but nothing coherent comes out.

before the silence can stretch further, a high pitched voice rings out.

“jungkook!”

you freeze, and there she is, the last person you want to see right now. mia. of all people, and of all times. her slightly unsteady steps and the way she slurs his name scream that she’s had more than a few drinks.

jungkook sighs as she stumbles toward him, and when she nearly trips, he instinctively catches her. “mia... not now,” he mutters, shooting a quick glance at you.

you fold your arms, your expression hardening. the irritation bubbling in your chest is hard to hide as you watch them

“what do you mean ‘not now’?” mia giggles, clinging onto him like he’s her lifeline. jungkook gently tries to push her off, keeping her at arm’s length.

then her attention shifts to you. “who’s this?” she asks, her eyes narrowing slightly as she wraps herself tighter around his arm, like she’s staking her claim.

oh, this bitch.

you plaster on the fakest smile you can muster, your eyes narrowing just slightly as you look at jungkook. “tell her jungkook. who am i?” you repeat, your tone cutting.

jungkook sighs. “this isn’t what it looks like—”

you let out a humorless scoff. “i’m ___. yoongi’s friend,” you say, each word laced with venom as you glance between the two of them.

mia’s face lights up in relief. “oh, thank god! for a second, i thought you were one of those obsessed girls trying to steal my jungkook,” she giggles, her words slurred.

both you and jungkook frown at her.

“mia, you’re drunk,” he says firmly, trying to steer her away, but she pouts, clinging tighter.

your hands ball into fists at your sides as you try to keep your temper in check.

calm down, ___, this isn’t worth it, you tell yourself, but it’s a losing battle.

“you know what?” you say sharply, spinning on your heels. “i’m leaving. have fun dealing with... whoever this is.” you wave a hand dismissively in their direction.

as you turn to leave, mia’s giggling voice stops you in your tracks. “whoever?? i’m gonna be his girlfriend soon,” she says, her tone smug and dripping with drunken confidence.

you pause, your body stiffening. slowly, you turn back around, and there she stands, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

fuck it.

without thinking, you stride back towards her, the forced calmness in your expression shattering. before she can react, your hand connects with her cheek in a sharp slap. the sound echoes, and she stumbles back in shock, her eyes wide.

“what the f—” mia begins, but you don’t let her finish.

you lunge at her, pushing her down to the floor as your hands grab for her hair. she screeches, her own hands flying up to pull at yours, and suddenly, the two of you are in an all out brawl on the floor, pulling hair and flailing.

and just like before—when jungkook had punched jason—the energy in the room shifts. people edge closer, forming a loose circle around you, their curious and excited murmurs filling the air. some look amused, others shocked, and a few are already pulling out their phones to record or take pictures.

“___!” jungkook’s panicked voice cuts through the chaos, his eyes wide with horror as he watches the scene unfold. he rushes forward, grabbing you around the waist and pulling you off her.

you struggle in his grip, your breaths coming in short, angry pants. “let me go!” you yell, trying to lunge at her again, but jungkook holds you firmly, his voice frantic.

“___, stop it! what the hell are you doing?”

mia scrambles to her feet, her face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and rage. “she’s crazy!” she shouts, pointing at you as she straightens her hair.

“mia, just leave,” jungkook snaps, “now.”

she stares at him for a moment, her mouth opening to argue, but the look in his eyes silences her. with a huff, she stumbles away, muttering and cursing under her breath as she disappears into the crowd.

you’re still fuming, your body tense as you stand in jungkook’s hold. slowly, he loosens his grip, his hands falling to his sides as he stares at you.

“what the fuck was that?” he asks, his voice quieter now but still firm.

“she fucking deserved it,” you snap, crossing your arms and looking away.

jungkook sighs, running a hand through his hair. “you can’t just do that, ___.”

“well, maybe if you’d handled her sooner, i wouldn’t have had to,” you bite back, glaring at him.

his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say anything, his gaze softening slightly as he watches you. for a moment, the two of you just stand there as you try to catch your breath.

“what the hell is wrong with you two?” yoongi’s voice cuts through the tension like a whip as he appears out of nowhere, his expression a mix of frustration and disbelief.

both you and jungkook turn towards him like kids caught sneaking out past curfew. jungkook sighs and runs a hand through his hair, while you fold your arms across your chest, refusing to meet yoongi’s glare.

“is talking that hard? seriously? this is the second fight you guys have caused tonight!” yoongi exclaims, his arms gesturing wildly as he steps closer.

“i didn’t start any—” you begin defensively, but yoongi’s sharp glare cuts you off mid sentence.

“oh, don’t even try that,” he snaps, pointing a finger at you. “you know what you both did,”

you do.

you falter, your mouth opening and closing as you try to think of something to say, but nothing comes out.

“and you,” yoongi turns to jungkook, his voice heavy with exasperation. “what is wrong with you? couldn’t you stop her? or at least not let this escalate? do you have any idea how ridiculous this looks?”

jungkook frowns, clearly not liking being scolded. “what was i supposed to do?”

“how about not letting her lunge at someone like a wild animal?” yoongi retorts, throwing his hands up in the air.

“i did stop her, didn't i?” jungkook protests.

you glare at jungkook. “don’t act like you’re so innocent. you’re the one who—”

“enough!” yoongi shouts, and both of you immediately shut up. “i don’t care who started what or why. this isn’t kindergarten. you’re both grown adults, so fucking act like it.”

you glance at jungkook, who looks equally chastised, and for a moment, you feel like two teenagers getting scolded by their dad.

yoongi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “i don’t know why i bother with you two. you’re like oil and water- no, scratch that, you’re like fire and gasoline. one spark and boom! chaos.”

“yoongi, it’s not—”

“don’t,” he interrupts you, holding up a hand. “i don’t want to hear it. all i want is for the two of you to grow up, talk it out, and stop punching people. is that too much to ask?”

both of you mumble something that vaguely resembles an apology, but yoongi isn’t having it. “no, no. don’t give me that half assed apology. i want this fixed. now.”

“how are we supposed to—” jungkook starts, but yoongi cuts him off again.

“i don’t care how. just figure it out. but not here. go somewhere else and sort out whatever weird, unresolved… whatever this is between you two.”

he waves his hand between you and jungkook, then sighs deeply. “and for fuck's sake, don’t cause another scene, or so help me, i’ll lock both of you in a room until you figure it out.”

with that, he storms off, muttering under his breath about how he needs a drink and maybe some new friends.

you and jungkook stand there in silence for a moment, awkward and unsure of what to do.

“well,” jungkook finally says, his tone dry, “that was awesome, thanks, ___.”

you sigh, rubbing your temples. “shut the fuck up,”

he rolls his eyes.

“whatever, let’s go before yoongi actually locks us in a room.”

📜 series taglist: @deepikhaprakash @rjooniesdimples @wombatkitten127 @hoseokteardrop @myjungkookthighs

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[whimsicalpolitical]

He’s begging babe stay, stay, stay- Matty Healy x Reader

a/n: self titled era has a special place in my heart and I wanted to write a proper story regarding this era. Sorry if it’s shit and it feels like it’s very long.

content warning: maybe a bit angsty? fluff, smut, 18+ MDNI, p in v, dry humping, fingering, praise, dirty talk

It’s a shit day. All you have done until now is count the hours until your brother Ross is leaving to go on tour with his band.

The past days the boys were at your house just hanging around, smoking and to practice in your garage. You know because you spent time in the living room, pretending to work when all you’ve done is watch him or listen to his voice.

Matty's voice, raw and magnetic, cut through the music. Every time he sang, it felt like the world around you blurred, leaving only his voice in sharp focus.

Some times in their breaks you prayed that he would leave the garage to get a drink and when he did you felt giddy, like a nervous school girl.

Your eyes followed his every move. His black skinny jeans clinging to his body, the black shirt and leather jacket matching his persona. He’s just so attractive.

You’re grateful that Ross is part of the band. The past years have been a blessing because you could innocently see Matty and be around him without it being weird.

Your heart started racing when he entered the room, most of the times it was the middle of the night and you were grateful for the darkness that hid your flushed cheeks. You tried to focus on your breathing, but it was futile. The mere thought of him noticing you made you feel like a bundle of nerves. You had been around these boys all your life, but Matty—Matty was different.

You’re dreading the moment he leaves the house for good..

21:18- You’re sitting on the porch trying to smoke the thoughts away but every drag hurts your lung immensely.

They’re playing ‘you’ right now and you can’t help but close your eyes to the muffled music. You really will cry to the end. Cry until there’s no tears left. Maybe it’s over the top because you can’t even hold eye contact with Matty and he would never fall for you.

You’re very aware of the many different girls he had or has. And you, you had your first kiss a month ago with some football player because you tried to forget about him but you just can’t.

The reality of their imminent departure is settling in. The garage is alive with music, but you feel the weight of the upcoming silence. You will miss Ross, of course. His absence will leave a void in the house, but Matty's absence will leave a void in your heart.

You take another drag, the smoke burning your throat. The stars above are a blur through your tears. You wish you can be brave enough to tell him how you feel, but the fear of rejection is paralyzing. You would rather suffer in silence than risk the delicate balance of your current reality.

As the song changes to ‘robbers’, you let yourself sink into the music. The lyrics feel like they are written for you, capturing the longing and the heartache you can’t express. Tomorrow, they will be gone, and you will be left with nothing but memories and unspoken words.

You exhale slowly, the smoke dissipating into the night air. The porch light flicker, casting fleeting shadows. The night is as restless as you are, and the loneliness is beginning to set in. You hug your knees to your chest, feeling the cold concrete against your skin, and let the tears fall.

The music winds down, the final chords of hanging in the air like a whispered goodbye. You feel the silence settling in, heavy and inevitable. The garage door creaks open, and the boys' laughter floats out into the night, but it feels distant, like it belongs to another world. You crush the cigarette under your foot, watching the embers fade, a mirror to your fading hope.

You’re sitting there hugging your knees, covering your face and you can’t even hear footsteps approaching.

“D’you mind some company?”

This can’t be.

You look up, mascara completely ruined but you wipe your face with your sleeves. Matty is looking at you and his gaze drops, you think it’s almost a bit of worry.

“Shit,” he says, “sorry, I can go if I’m interrupting?”

“No no, it’s ok.” You say, pulling out another cigarette.

He nods as he leans against a wooden beam in your driveway, mirroring your movements by also lighting a cigarette.

The silence is sickening. You sure as hell won’t say anything because he caught you crying like a wimp in front of the door while they are playing their songs.

“S’ it Ross?” You think about how stupid the question is and you agree with Matty even though you want to say, ‘No, it's you.’

"Yeah," you lie, nodding. "It's Ross. Just gonna miss having him around."

Matty takes a drag, his eyes fixed on some distant point in the darkness. "He'll be back, you know. It’s just a tour. He’ll come home."

You nod, the lie sitting heavy in your chest. "I know. It's just... different without him here."

He flicks the ash from his cigarette, the glow illuminating his features for a brief moment. "Yeah, it's always different when someone's gone. Makes you realize how much you take them for granted."

He’s looking at you. He’s seeing you. The way he looks at you makes your breath catch in your throat. There's an intensity in his gaze, a softness that you rarely see. It's like he's trying to understand, to reach out without words.

You wonder how he sees you. Here you are, sitting on the porch with ruined mascara, tears staining your cheeks, and your heart on display. It's embarrassing, and you feel exposed under his gaze. But there's something in the way he looks at you that makes you think he sees more than just the tears and the smudged makeup. Maybe he sees the vulnerability, the raw emotion that you've been trying to hide.

You want to tell him it's not just Ross. That the thought of him leaving is what's tearing you apart. But the words stick in your throat, and you just nod again, staring at the ground.

“Ross became my family as well,” he says softly, “means you’re family too and we all are going to miss you.”

Your heart aches at his words, knowing how much more they mean to you than they do to him. "Thanks, Matty.“

You wonder if it’s the last time you’ll say his name, how long it will take for you to say it again.

“How long until you leave here?” You ask hoping deep down he tells you they won’t leave at all.

“Planned on leaving at 2,” he tries to smile, “punctuality isn’t our strength as you may know.”

You manage a small laugh, though it feels hollow. "Yeah, I know."

He glances at his watch and then back at you. "It's not too late. We still have some time. You should come inside, hang out with us for a bit.”

“I think I’ll stay out here for a bit.” You want to be alone with him, and the thought of being in a room with the whole band right now feels overwhelming. So you decline, shaking your head gently.

He seems to understand, not pushing further. Instead, he surprises you by sitting down next to you on the porch steps. The proximity sends a rush of warmth through you, even in the cool night air.

"Y'know, I've always liked these quiet moments. Sometimes, it's nice to just... be.”

You nod, appreciating his words. "Yeah, it is.”

He turns his head slightly to look at you, and you meet his gaze. There's a softness in his eyes, a hint of something that feels almost like longing.

You notice Matty's smell—a mix of his cologne, a hint of leather from his jacket, and something distinctly him. It’s comforting and intoxicating, a scent you know you'll miss.

You shift slightly, turning to face him. "Do you ever think about what comes next?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looks at you, his eyes reflecting the dim porch light. "Sometimes," he admits. "But it's hard to focus on the future when the present is so demanding."

You nod, understanding all too well. "I get that. But I mean, beyond the tours and the music. What do you see for yourself?"

He takes a deep breath, his gaze thoughtful. "Honestly, I don't know. I guess I hope for something more stable, something real. It's easy to get lost in the chaos, but I want to find something that grounds me." His eyes drop to your lips and if you would have blinked in that moment you would have missed it. “Someone who grounds me.”

“I understand,” you gulp, wanting to be the person.

“I think about it.” You frown, not knowing what he means. “What it would be like to settle down, find someone real.”

“Like a relationship?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, “someone who just gets it. Would sort me out I think.”

“Maybe.” You could fucking punch yourself. You’re giving short ass answers but you’re scared to say more. You’re scared that if you reveal yourself it would be so much worse when he’s gone.

He leans back slightly, his arm brushing against yours. "Maybe it's not so far off, you know? Sometimes, the right person is closer than you think."

You feel a blush rising to your cheeks, and you look away, hoping he doesn't notice. But he does and he thinks it’s for the wrong reason.

“Do you have a person?” He asks.

“Don’t you think you would know, you’re here all the time.”

He chuckles and it might be your favorite sound. “Alright you’ve got a point there, love.”

Love. It’s a british thing but your heart still skips a beat, and a warmth spreads through your chest, melting away any lingering doubts or fears. The simple term of endearment feels like a promise, a glimpse of something more between you.

“Does it mean you still haven’t had your first kiss yet?” The question surprises you, he’s very forward and it makes you regret that you didn’t wait. Because maybe he could’ve been your first kiss.

“No I had my first kiss,” you say, “wasn’t anything serious though.”

“How was it?”

That’s the Matty you’re familiar with. Not the ‘romance talk’ kind of guy but the guy who has a shit eating grin on his face because he’s experienced and wants to know everything about the sex life of others.

“Not sure,” you cringe, “wasn’t how I imagined it.”

“How did you imagine it?”

“I didn’t imagine him slipping me tongue the second we kiss,” you groan at the memory and he laughs, “and he was just so violent, didn’t really feel good.”

He hums, stepping out the cigarette. “S’ a bummer, everyone should know how a good kiss feels.”

You don’t know what he’s hinting at because it would be dumb to assume he’s projecting the statement on to you.

“Not every guy is like that.” He says and your eyes find his again, “mate was bloody inexperienced.”

Matty is only 23 years old, three years older than you. Can’t be that much of a different between the guys.

"Yeah, well, it's not like I've got a lot of experience either," you admit, feeling a bit exposed.

He gives you a sympathetic look, but there's a playful edge to it. "Experience isn't everything, love. It's about the connection, the moment. And trust me, when it's right, you'll know."

You do know. You know with him, you’re sure that you want to kiss him. You want to experience life with him, do everything.

“A good kiss shouldn’t leave you feeling anything but wanted.” He shifts closer, his thigh now next to yours.

You look at him, feeling a flutter of nerves in your stomach. "Yeah?"

He nods, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yeah.”

You can feel the electricity in the air as Matty leans closer, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. Your mind is a whirlwind of emotions—excitement, fear, longing. For years, you’ve harbored these feelings for him, tucking them away in the corners of your heart. He’s always been more than just your brother’s bandmate. He’s been the one who makes your pulse quicken, the one whose presence can light up your entire day.

You've watched him with other girls, feeling a pang of jealousy each time. You've imagined what it would be like to be the one he looks at with that mischievous grin, the one he holds close in the quiet moments. And now, here you are, on the brink of something you’ve dreamed about for so long.

Your thoughts are a jumble, your heart pounding in your chest. You want to kiss him so badly it aches. The desire has been building for years, a slow burn that has now become an overwhelming flame. The way he makes you feel—giddy, nervous, hopeful—no one else has ever come close. He’s the reason you find yourself smiling for no reason, the reason your heart feels too big for your chest sometimes.

You glance at his lips, and the anticipation makes your breath hitch. You’re nervous, of course you are—this is Matty, the guy you’ve loved from a distance for so long. But beneath the nerves, there’s a deeper, more insistent feeling: the need to finally close the gap, to feel his lips on yours and know what it’s like to be kissed by him.

You swallow hard, feeling a mix of excitement and fear. "Matty, I... I don't know what I'm doing."

"That's alright, love. Everyone's gotta start somewhere. Just tell me what you want." He gives you a reassuring smile, his hand brushing against yours.

You take a deep breath, gathering your courage. "I want... I want to know what a good kiss feels like."

His smile widens, a glint of something mischievous in his eyes. "Well, I can help with that."

You nod, feeling a rush of anticipation.

He leans in slowly, giving you time to back away if you want. But you don't. Instead, you tilt your head slightly, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips meet yours.

The kiss is gentle at first, his lips soft and warm against yours. There's no rush, no urgency, just a slow, deliberate exploration. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

You relax into the kiss, feeling the spark, the connection. It's everything he said it would be—electric, grounding, and utterly unforgettable.

It's like every dream, every late-night fantasy you've ever had is coming to life in this single, perfect moment. His lips are warm and soft, moving gently against yours, and it feels as if time has stopped.

Your heart is racing, pounding so hard you're sure he must feel it too. There's a nervous excitement bubbling inside you, mingling with a deep, almost overwhelming sense of joy. The kiss is tender, unhurried, and you can feel the care and attention he's giving to every movement. It's everything you imagined and more.

Years of unspoken longing, of watching him from afar and wishing for this very moment, flood through you. You've dreamed of this kiss, of being close to him like this, feeling his breath mix with yours. The reality of it surpasses every fantasy, every hopeful thought. The connection you feel is electric, a spark igniting between you that sends shivers down your spine.

His hands are gentle, one cupping your cheek, the other resting lightly on the small of your back. The warmth of his touch sends shivers through your body, grounding you in this moment. The way he holds you feels protective, yet respectful, as if he's cradling something precious.

You almost whine when he pulls back.

“How’s that?” He asks, a soft murmur, his thumb still caressing your cheek.

You don’t have any words. You have to concentrate that you won’t start crying because of all the things you felt while his lips were on yours.

“Where’s your mind gone, love?” He asks, lifting your chin, not even realizing that you dropped it. “Care to tell me?”

He stops and he puts his hand back to his own body. You’re scared now, that you’ve done something wrong, that you’re too innocent for him.

“Was the kiss shit?”

“No!” It comes out way too fast, “it was the opposite.”

You can tell he’s relieved but he still doesn’t know why you’re reacting this way.

“I just don’t- ugh,” you groan.

“Take your time.”

You would but the truth is you don’t have time.

“I don’t want it to end but I don’t think you realize what you’re doing to me.” You admit and it’s a huge step for you.

“I think we have a lot to chat about hm?” He says and stands up. You don’t, you only stand up when he offers you his hand.

Matty’s hand reaches out, his fingers slowly intertwining with yours. The contact is gentle yet firm, his touch sending a thrill through your body. Your fingers are cold from the night air, but his are warm, and the contrast makes you shiver slightly.

The warmth of his hand spreads through you, soothing the anxiety that had been knotting in your stomach. His fingers fit perfectly between yours, like two pieces of a puzzle coming together. It feels so natural, so right, and you can’t help but squeeze his hand gently, as if to reassure yourself that this is real.

He smiles, his eyes filled with a mix of affection and relief. "Your hands are freezing," he murmurs, his thumb lightly brushing over the back of your hand.

You laugh softly, the sound a little shaky. "Yeah, well, it’s not exactly warm out here."

“Let me talk to the boys real quick, then we can go inside yeah?”

“Sure.” You don’t know what he’s going to say to them, if he’s going to tell them the truth about where he’s going and what he’s doing but on the other hand you don’t even know what he’s doing.

He’s leaving you on the doorstep and you already pull out your keys to open the door. When he comes back you embrace him. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, everything else fades away. He's wearing that familiar smirk, his hair tousled, and you can't help but admire how effortlessly handsome he looks. There's a magnetism to him, a charm that draws you in

“Your room alright to talk?” He asks as you both go inside, where it is a lot warmer. The heat is getting to you and you feel a familiar tingly feeling in your stomach.

You don’t want to wait until you can talk or kiss again or feel him on you. You want to grab his arm and pull him against you and devour him whole. But you’re too shy to let him know.

“It’s straight down the hall,” you mumble, letting him lead you upstairs, his hands now intertwined with yours again.

22:30- And you’re in your room, sitting on the bed which is fucking exciting because Matty is sitting on your bed.

He’s getting rid of his jacket and throws it on a little chair next to your dest. He’s wearing a basic black shirt with a cutout, his tattoo on display for you.

“Talk to me, I want to know what’s on your mind, and clearly there’s a lot on your mind.” You both sit on the edge of the bed and after he’s gotten rid of his jacket he grabbed your hand again.

“I don’t know where to start,” you whisper truthfully.

Matty's hand tightens around yours, and you feel a rush of nerves as you meet his gaze. His eyes hold a mixture of curiosity and warmth, encouraging you to speak your mind.

“I don't know how to say this," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I've... I've liked you for a while now."

He raises an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Is that so?" he says, his tone light.

You nod, feeling a flush creeping up your cheeks. "Yeah. And I don't know... I don't know how to interpret the kiss. Why did you kiss me?"

Matty lets out a soft laugh, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. "Why does anyone kiss anyone?" he replies, his gaze meeting yours. "Because they want to, I s’pose."

You can't help but scoff at his nonchalant response.

“You think too much, love.” He chuckles and grabs your chin to look at him. “I kissed you because I like you as well.”

“You do?” You ask.

This is all happening very fast and you doubt his words, not believing that he likes you.

As Matty's words sink in, you feel like you're floating in a dream. Did he really just say that he kissed you because he likes you too? The thought sends a rush of warmth through your entire being, and you can't help but let out a breathless laugh.

“I do,” he nods.

“Now what?”

“Up to you, love,” your head is pounding, the room is spinning, the kiss from earlier still in your head and you just want the feeling back.

You lean forward to kiss him again, your lips finding his and his hand on the back of your neck, making sure you won’t leave his your place. You can’t breathe which makes you gasp and matty slides his tongue into your mouth.

You didn’t know that this can be hot, you go with the flow, letting your tongue brush against his in a steady rhythm. You’re getting hot, your skin is on fire and you’re sure he can feel it.

You’re panting more than Matty when you both pull back to breathe. Your pupils are already dilated and you’re ready for more. You’re never ready for anything but with Matty it just feels right.

“Can we just do this for a while?” You ask, wanting to be absolutely sure of what you’re going to ask him in a couple of minutes.

“Of course, love, it’s your pace we’re going for.” You smile at his answer but before you can kiss him again he speaks.

“Can you get on my lap, it’s more comfortable this way.” You blush but nod.

You waist no time to sit yourself fully on top of him, your legs on each side of his narrow hips. You stare at him through half lidded eyes, if you were a cartoon there would surely be hearts drawn all over them, as he captures your lips in a slow kiss. The two of you sigh and grunt into each other's mouths, moaning softly when hands met bare skin, pulling and squeezing all the right places. 

“Breathe, love, we’ve got time.”

“We don’t.”

You melt into the next kiss, your arms wrapped around his neck. You feel him, he’s hard and you want to grind your hips but you have self control and you don’t know if that’s what you want.

He feels the same though, wanting to touch you everywhere at the same time, wanting to undress you and show you how much you mean to him.

He finally lets his hands wander over your sides, under your shirt and you sigh into his mouth. You still need more. “Can I touch you here?” He asks, referring to your boobs and you nod.

His hands meet your waist, run over your tummy, and up to your breasts, palming them lightly, not quite the way you are expecting. You grab wherever you can get your hands on — his shoulders, his back, pulling him closer and closer — huffing when it’s getting too much, or too little.

The kisses you share are still slow, sensual, following the rise and fall your shared breathing, but this time he follows your lead, running his hands over your thighs, your hips, grabbing your ass and dragging it over the front of his jeans, where you can feel him. You bite his lower lip, and your eyes are still closed but you can feel his smile.

“Need to tell me f’ you want something,” he says against your lips.

You hum, not saying anything but you roll your hips again, whimpering when the friction is perfect against your clothed pussy.

“Wait, love,” he makes you whine as he stills your hips. “Need to know what you’ve done.”

“Nothing more then kiss.” You say and he’s not even surprised anymore.

“Oh,” he groans, he’s fully turned on and he can’t believe it’s him who’s going to show you how perfect you can feel. “I don’t want to pressure you, I’m fine with kissing.”

“I’m not,” you interrupt, “please just do something.”

You’re begging and it drives him insane. “Alright alright, lay down for me, will you?”

You lay down on the bed and watch him get rid of his shirt, throwing it on top of his jacket. He’s crawling over you, kissing your face before moving down to your neck.

“You touched yourself before though right?”

You nod, feeling too embarrassed to let out words. He’s sucking at your neck so sweetly you’re sure you’ll forget your name.

“Can I?” He refers to your shirt and you answer with a short ‘yes.’ He pulls your shirt over your head and you reveal your black lace bra to him.

He groans, “if you want me to stop,” he says, his lips returning to your fiery skin, trailing barely there kisses down the expanse of your neck. Your eyes flutter shut, hands grasping at his bare sides. “You tell me right away.” His kisses litter your throat, your collarbone, all the way to your breasts. “Understand?”

“Yes,” you moan.

“Clever girl,” the praise goes straight to your core which you are pressing against his bulge.

“Lift up—” he says, giving your thighs a light tap. You lift your hips from the mattress, allowing him room to shuffle the fabric off your legs. You assist him towards the end, fluttering your feet until you could kick the jeans to the floor. Within seconds, he is back between your thighs, this time straddling his shoulders as he settles further down the mattress. His face inches away from your cunt, now only protected by the thin cotton barrier. 

“And when you touch yourself,” he continues, fingers tracing the softest shapes on the outside of your thighs, over your hips. You can feel his hot breath through your panties, and it makes you squirm. “How many fingers do you use?” 

“Two- sometimes three, like to rub my clit though.” You are even surprised that you’re vocal but your eyes are on the clock and you know there’s no time for being shy.

“Can do that f’you, let me?”

“Yes yes.” He slides off your panties.

He never takes his lips off of yours when you feel the pads of his fingers prod at your hole, already leaking with desire. You anticipated his fingers to be much larger than yours, but when he sinks his two digits in, the stretch is satisfying. The way he works up your arousal aiding in how easy it is to slowly pump them in and out, curling up ever so slightly to find the spongy spot inside of you. 

“Matty.”

He begins to quicken his pace, the flex of his forearm curving his fingers up into that sweet spot with precision, leaving your toes to clench and your thighs to squeeze around his head.

You are begging for his name like a prayer, the only word you can find as your abdomen tightens, a subtle tremor cursing through your legs.

“You’re a dream come true.”

You brush his hair from his forehead, wanting to have a clear view of his eyes when your jaw falls slack, the euphoric high starting at your core and bursting out over the rest of you.

At first, you couldn’t move, can’t think, couldn’t breathe. But Matty keeps working thumb on your clit and his fingers inside of you through your orgasm so adamantly that your head flings back, and a lewd moan echoing off your lips.

“Fuck,” you whine and when he drags his fingers out of you, you can hear the sound of your slick.

He takes them into his mouth, licking the glistening off of his finger. “Taste so sweet, love.”

He lays completely on top of you again, he’s trying not to rut into your leg but you got him so turned on it hurts.

You whine into his mouth, wanting him to fuck you but it’s your first time and you’re nervous and your mind starts rushing again.

“I got you, love, it’s just me,” yeah that’s the fucking problem. “We don’t need to go any further since you have never.”

“My first time was shit, don’t want that for you,” he continues, now you wonder about the details but maybe he can tell you some other time.

“I want this, with you Matty, no one else.” You earn another kiss to you lips.

“Hang on then,” he stands up to grab his wallet from his jacket and he pulls out a condom, it’s cliche and it’s making you giggle that he has a fucking condom in his wallet.

He pulls his pants down and his boxers and your eyes drop down to his fully hard length which is dripping red. He’s big. Now you’re scared of how it will fit.

He puts the condom on and moves on top of you again. “I’m going slow, don’t want to hurt you now do I.”

“If I do though, you tell me or tap my head okay?”

You nod and he tuts, “tell me, love.”

“I will, I promise.”

His mouth lowers down to yours as he slowly begins sheathing himself inside you, inch by inch. He is taking it slowly, which you appreciate. Feeling tears prick in the corners of your eyes at the painful but pleasurable fullness, he leans down to kiss them away.

“I will make it better yeah?, s’ normal that it hurts.”

Once he’s fully buried inside you he keeps his hips still, peppering kisses all over your face. “Shit,” you hiss, still feeling a sting.

“I know,” he keeps kissing your face, your neck, your arms to try to make it better. “Don’t worry, keep that head here with me.” He realized that you wanted to drift off again, but he keeps you in reality.

After a while the smile that adorns your lips makes him feel relieved, hating that he hurt you even for a minute. Once you are some what used to the feeling of him inside you, you lift your hips gently to show him you are ready. Matty is still hesitant with his movements, that is until you start moaning. The pain still lingers faintly, but the pleasure that’s coursing through you is enough to over come it.

“You’re such a good girl,” your hands grip his shoulders as continues to rock his hips into yours, his pace beginning to speed up. Matty is pressing a messy kiss to your lips, tongues dancing together as he makes love to you. There isn’t a doubt in your mind that this is what making love should feel like.

He brings his finger between your bodies, gently rubbing your clit. You don’t stop the constant cries from falling from your lips, head falling deeper into the pillows behind you. Matty can’t help but groan, your noises spurring him on further.

“You’re doing so good, showing me how good you feel, keep that going.”

Your nails are leaving behind crescents in the skin of his shoulders, but he doesn’t seem to mind. With his available hand he slips a pillow under your hips. Providing him a deeper angle as his thrusts become sharper.

“Stay, stay Matty, stay,” you moan. You both know how you mean those words. Of course you want him to stay inside of you but the real meaning behind those words are that you don’t want him to leave ever. You can’t handle him going away.

“It’s alright, everything’s alright hm,” You can barely get a sentence out, Matty fucking any remaining thoughts from your head.

He knows you aren’t going to last much longer, as your walls repeatedly pulse around his cock. He rubs your clit faster, feeling himself starting to loose it as you scream out his name. Your orgasm shakes your frame, as he continues to fuck you through the euphoria. It only takes a few more thrusts before Matty meets his end, singing you sweet praises as he spills into the condom.

“You’ve done so fucking good, Christ,” you can’t help but smile as he nearly collapses on top of you, his lips leaving kisses anywhere he can reach.

You’re both sweaty and exhausted, as he slowly slips out of you. You try not to wince as you feel so empty, already missing the feeling of him nestled inside you. You wonder if you ever going to know the feeling.

You watch fondly as Matty ties off the condom and tosses it in bin next to your bed. You immediately reach for him once he’s done, pulling him back down onto the blankets with you. Matty lays his head on your breasts with a content sign as you stroke your hand through his hair. The only sounds are of your breathing.

00:30- and you’re cuddling in your bed, you’re clinging to him, holding on to the remaining touch he can give you.

“Are you alright, love?” He asks.

“Yes, thank you matty.”

“Nonsense,” he says, rolling on to his back to pull you on top of him, “thank you, big step for you.”

“Yeah,” you sigh in contentment.

You drape one leg over his thigh, a hand of yours traveling over his tattoos.

“Matty?” You break the silence, looking up at him. You want to tell him how you feel, how he made you feel and how you want him in your life. You don’t want this to be the last time and you don’t want him to come back in two years with some random girl. You want to be his girl.

You think about how you tell him, if you should tell him. Minutes pass and he lifts your chin to give you a kiss. “I know.” Is all he says.

You stay like this for some time, not wanting to know the time.

-

2:15- and you look outside your window to see him driving away.

[fox-guardian]

[ID: Three digital drawings of Sam, Alice, and Colin on gray backgrounds. The first image is three drawings of Sam from the neck up. Sam is an Arab man with brown skin and short, curly black hair and a mustache and small goatee. He is wearing small black earrings and a cream turtleneck. The left drawing shows him smiling very wide while sweating anxiously. The middle drawing shows him frowning downwards while sweating anxiously. The right drawing is him looking neutral while saying "I could be cleaning toilets" while looking off to the side.

The next drawing is of Alice and Colin. Alice is a tall lanky white woman with fluffy, shoulder-length, light brown hair with faded pink tips, freckles, and stretch marks on her stomach. She is wearing pink cat eye glasses, pink nail polish, three pairs of silver earrings, snakebites, a berry-colored bra, a fully unbuttoned gray and pink flannel, open black hoodie, gray jeans, and multi-colored bracelets. Colin is a skinny white man with blonde hair that's short at the top and long at the back in a ponytail with a receding hairline, a mustache and patchy facial hair, and body hair. He is wearing rectangular glasses with yellow lenses, a tan t-shirt with a yellow graphic, an unbuttoned pale blue button-down, an open tan hoodie, black watch, brown belt, and blue jeans. Alice is standing raising her hands in the "devil horns" gesture while making a yelling expression. Colin is hunched over, clutching a microphone and yelling into it with a dark expression and scratchy music notes around him.

The last image shows Alice wearing a grey tank top with one strap hanging off, grey jeans with ripped knees, and a brown and red flannel tied around her waist. She is in profile sitting with her hands between her knees, with her head tilted back a bit and winking and sticking her tongue out with a little pink star next to her. end ID]

~~~~

been thinking a lot about Them so have some bits of them <3

feat my headcanon that alice takes colin out for metal karaoke aggretsuko style

[lightless-flame-official]

gerry keay (classic flavor):

skinny. not in a way most people notice off the bat, because he's quite tall and very good at looking big, but leitner hunting burns a lot of calories and he's been chronically underfed for most of his life

eye tattoos on each of his joints, placed there by supernatural means as a protective ward against other powers

his hair always looks like shit for several reasons, including but not limited to:

- he doesn't like to dye it when his mother is around, both because of the vulnerability of the position and because he doesn't like to be Perceived by her while doing anything he actually. ya know. enjoys. this means that it has a lot of time to fade and his roots grow out.

- if she's around too often for a stretch of time, he has to find a local business he hasn't already been banned from and rinse it out in one of their sinks. this leaves it looking understandably patchy and rushed.

- the dye he uses is cheap as hell -- having his own money is an occasional luxury which cannot be taken for granted.

- he just. generally doesn't take care of himself and his hair suffers overall as a result. he doesn't shower often enough and when he does he uses precisely one (1) type of soap. and it's like. if they have irish springs bar soaps in england then it's that and if they don't then it's the closest equivalent.

he isn't actually like. goth. as we would think of it.

black clothes don't show bloodstains and they made him feel safe edgy and dangerous as a teenager.

we're talking thrift store jeans purchased when he was 16 an never replaced. maybe some band tees. boots for marching into a den of hunt avatars.

the leather jacket is also secondhand and while yes he does feel very badass and cool in it it's also a practical piece. good for fighting. especially when the people you're fighting might have claws or want to set you on fire.

sewing needle piercings with visible scarring around them.

he just generally looks. kinda sick all the time? again, not something that usually registers because he's also good at being intimidating but if you're looking for it there's all kinds of evidence of chronic sleep deprivation and malnutrition. he looks unhealthy, concerning.

gerry keay (tmagp):

goth. like, real goth. like buying from thrift stores still but more often and having fun with it now.

we're talking fishnets. we're talking eyeliner. we're talking black lipstick. we're talking absurd and impractical jewelry. we're talking dabbles in lacy skirts and definitely owns a corset. and yes he still wears a leather jacket but exclusively because it feels cool and badass. he's goth babey!

no longer skinny. precise body type is whatever your heart tells you is true but three square meals agree with him and he's gained a very noticeable amount of weight.

the hair dye is still not professional, his roots grow in occasionally and it's still a bit patchy, because he's still doing it at home, but also. he's doing it at home. it's fun, and he has fun with it. the dye is better quality. gertrude helps him with touchups. black is still a favorite but he's dabbled in other colors, dark purples and greens and blues.

loves to be covered in stuff. when he's baking, he will intentionally smear flour on his black pants and make it look accidental, and when he paints he doesn't wash his hands. this is partially so he can see the evidence himself, and partially because he wants people to notice it and ask. he wants to say, "oops, i was baking earlier, i must've wiped my hands on my pants."

he still has shitty irresponsible piercings from when he was a teenager. the more recent ones are more professional.

his tattoos are pretty and useless. he designed most of them himself.

there's color in his face. sleeping gets a little easier every night.

[adore-laur]

GET MINE, GET YOURS

— your ex-boyfriend is a mechanic, and you still jump his bones on occasion ❤️‍🔥

——

2004

Heavy raindrops cascade off the roof of the mechanic shop, its metal shingles mottled with splotches of orange rust. The sight forms tight knots in your stomach as dreary storm clouds loom over the town. You stall outside for another minute, soaked pebbles crunching under the soles of your shoes as you pace near your car. 

After exhaling a calming breath and rolling your shoulders back, you slowly walk toward the half-closed garage. Harry is running the shop all by himself this afternoon, working gruesome nine-to-fives just about every day of the week. You don't know how he does it, so you try to visit and keep him company once in a while.

Today, however, is different. The brakes on your car have been squeaking incessantly, and you know jack squat about anything car-related, so you had no choice but to ask your ex-boyfriend for help. 

Yes, your ex-boyfriend.

You would honestly rather listen to him drone on about all the intricate parts of an automobile than some wise guy who makes you feel stupid when you confusedly nod along and attempt to ask clarifying questions. Harry is much nicer about it. He simplifies terms for you while your mind drifts away to things much more interesting than the anatomy of axles and tires. For example, Harry's pink lips or the beautiful veins protruding from the backs of his hands.

You've gone to him with car problems before, but you mostly visit to hang out with him. It's never awkward since the breakup was mutual, and you are still on good terms. Plus, you find contentment in the routine of bringing him fast food and talking his ear off while he does the strenuous work. 

And so what if you still fuck him on the down-low?

There's nothing wrong with having no strings attached, especially since he gives you heavenly sexual experiences each and every time. It's not like it's a weekly thing, either. It's just that whenever you cross paths with him, it always ends up with his body hovering over yours and his cross necklace dangling above your bare chest. 

Unfortunately, you're not in the mood for that right now. The stress caused by your shitty car and having to probably pay a hefty amount of cash just to be able to safely drive anywhere has quickly turned your day sour.

As you duck your head to enter the garage, the smell of rubber and oil instantly permeates your senses. The plug-in air freshener on the wall is doing the absolute bare minimum. Soft bass creeps into your eardrums, and a groovy R&B track plays from Harry's boombox sitting beside his reliable red toolbox. You grin and roll your eyes when you recognize the eminent growl of Christina Aguilera coming through the speakers. You're greeted with a song you'd never expect him to listen to whenever you visit. 

Turning your head to the left, you spot Harry working under a beat-up vintage Cadillac. He's lying down on a roller with his knees bent, metal clinking from whatever he's fixing. The black skinny jeans he's wearing are faded, and he's not wearing any shoes for some risky reason; only white socks cover his feet. 

"Hi, baby." Harry's voice rumbles, jolting you. You've told him to stop calling you that, but it falls on deaf ears every time. 

"How'd you know it was me?" you ask, running your fingertips across a stray wrench. 

He laughs huskily. "I can see your dirty-ass sneakers from under here."

Before you can defend your mud-stained shoes, his hands grip the bottom edge of the car as he rolls himself out from underneath, revealing his face decorated with smears of grease and his long hair tied into a bun. It's been two weeks since you saw him last, give or take, and you swear he gets more physically buff each time. His biceps are practically bulging as he wipes beading sweat from his forehead, the sheened muscles filling out his grubby uniform deliciously.

You break away from your lustful trance and nod your head toward his boombox. "Stripped on cassette, huh? You keep on surprising me." 

"Is there a problem?" He slings a soiled rag over his shoulder.

"No, not at all," you reply lightheartedly. "It just isn't really a manly record to fix cars to." 

He teasingly sticks his tongue out and saunters over to you, bending down a bit before wrapping one arm around your waist and lifting you in a firm embrace. His mouth breathes warm air against your neck, and you can smell the spearmint gum he's been chewing.

"Came to visit me?" he murmurs as he gently sets you down, keeping a firm grip on your hip and hooking his middle finger through your belt loop. 

You pout and tell him, "My car is broken." 

He mimics your expression. "Yeah? What happened?" 

"I was driving home from the grocery store, and the brakes started squeaking out of nowhere." 

Harry stops smacking his gum and furrows his eyebrows. "And you drove all the way here without calling me?"

You grimace. "Please don't be mad." 

"You're not supposed to keep driving when your brakes are acting up," he says seriously. "You know better." 

"I didn't want to make you leave work," you reply, fidgeting with your hands. 

He softly tuts while flinging the rag somewhere behind him. "I would've come and gotten you if you had asked." 

You just shrug helplessly and look around the garage, admiring Harry's workspace, which completely encapsulates his personality, even though he shares the space with a coworker most days. Various cassettes are stacked haphazardly on a shelf, ranging from girl groups to classic rock to spa music for meditation purposes. He has an open bag of organic potato chips on his workbench, the brand he always buys from the gas station just down the road. There's also a shallow pottery bowl in the corner where he puts his rings so they don't touch oil. 

He's a moody motherfucker, but you know all of his soft spots. 

"I'm guessing I'll be spending the entirety of my last paycheck on the repair," you mutter while wandering around, picking up random tools. 

Harry leans back against the car he's working on and crosses his arms. "It'll probably cost around two hundred dollars to replace the brake pad," he says. 

"What the hell?" you say incredulously. "You need to talk to your boss about lowering the prices around here." 

"I am the boss."

"Oh, that's right."

He laughs through his nose. "Negotiate with me about it, then. Convince me to lower the price." 

You stop in your tracks and stare at him, unimpressed with the upper hand he tries to have over you. "Nope. I'm not doing that." 

"Why not?" he asks. "C'mon, I'm bored out of my mind." 

You groan and stride over to stand in front of him. He's so hard to resist. "Fine. Will you please give me a discount?" 

Harry drags out a monotonous hum before plainly saying, "No." 

Standing on your tiptoes, you touch your nose to his and whisper, "Pretty please?" 

He narrows his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering against yours. "You're getting warmer." 

"I'll help you fix my car," you plead, willing to do anything to save a little money. "I'm really good at following instructions." 

"You are, sweetheart, but absolutely not." 

You frown and bury your face in his neck. He's sweaty, yet there's a hint of some pine-scented cologne coming through that drives you insane. "If I let you fuck me," you suggest boldly, leaving a slow kiss near his pulse point, "will you give me a discount?" 

Harry moves his head to look at you straight on, smiling smugly and using his teeth to stretch his gum across the tip of his tongue. "That's more like it." 

"But don't you have a car to fix right now?" you ask, feigning innocence to get under his skin. 

"Baby," he murmurs, "you can't come here and expect me to actually get work done. You're too distracting." 

You pinch his thigh through his jeans. "Stop calling me that." 

"No," he says softly. "You're still my baby." 

"Not anymore." 

"Then no discount for you." 

You scoff and step away from him. "Stop being a jerk, Harry." 

"Letting me fuck you just for a discount, hmm? Is that it?" He raises his eyebrows.

"You know I'd let you fuck me anyway," you admit under your breath. 

The muscles in his jaw twitch. "God, you give me whiplash." 

You get up in his face and say, "Yeah, well, you give me a headache."

His hand quickly reaches out to push the back of your head toward him, messily smearing his lips against yours. "I hate when you're like this," he mumbles into your mouth. "My baby's so stubborn when she doesn't get her way, isn't she?" 

You bite his bottom lip and tug on it before releasing it. "Don't want to be your baby." 

His hand gravitates toward the curve of your ass, squeezing just once. "Then tell me what you want."

"I want to be your brat."

Harry's head tilts as he visibly swallows. "Get on the couch," he orders lowly. "Face down, ass up." 

You grin, pleased to the max, and stroll over to the black leather couch in the back while Harry shuts the garage door for privacy. The screech of the lock makes you wince, and the sound of the pelting rain becomes muffled. The continuous drops on the roof match the speed of your racing heart.

Placing your forearms on the cold, cracked leather, you bend your knees to get into position and tilt your head so your cheek rests on the cushion. Harry swiftly removes his hairband, his curls messily falling past his shoulders. Next, he unbuttons his shirt, revealing his swallow tattoos and chest hair, both slick with sweat. His cross pendant rests perfectly against his skin as he comes up beside you and leisurely trails his fingers down your spine until they reach the waistband of your low-rise bell bottoms. 

Goosebumps erupt across your arms when his other hand goes to unbutton his skinny jeans. You can see his bulge straining against the tight material, and it makes you squirm impatiently. 

"Sit still," Harry says, pulling down his jeans. His black boxers and thigh tattoo are now directly in front of you.

You pitifully moan when he crouches and grabs your wrists to place them behind your back. "Not fair," you grumble. 

"Oh, really? It's not fair that I'm about to fuck you." 

"You know what I mean." 

Harry tugs down your pants and underwear in one go, the material bunching at the back of your knees. He then takes his boxers off, placing one knee on the cushion and lining himself up as he grips the top of the couch to stay balanced. 

"Still on birth control?" he asks, planting a quick kiss on your shoulder blade. The cold metal of his necklace against your skin sends an avalanche of chills down the length of your spine. 

You nod, and Harry immediately thrusts into you. You gasp as the burning sensation spreads like wildfire all the way to your thighs, your hands clenching into tight fists as he continuously rocks deep strokes in and out. You whimper with each one, and Harry's hand holds your hair back in a makeshift ponytail to watch every pleasurable change of expression on your face. 

"You good?" He pants while slowing down his thrusts, keeping them long and purposeful. 

"I want to touch you."

His hips pound into your backside. "Yeah? Where do you want to touch me?" 

"Anywhere, just please let me." 

"I didn't know brats begged like whores," he says, tugging your hair. 

You wiggle your fingers behind your back, trying to touch his stomach, but it's to no avail. Harry stops thrusting, his hair hanging over his face as he looks down at you. "Want it that bad?" he says in awe.

You muster up fake tears and nod pathetically to get your way. "Please, Daddy." 

It always works like a charm. Harry grunts and instantly pulls out, hastily sitting on the couch with his legs spread and grabbing your waist to make you straddle him. 

You kick off your pants and underwear the rest of the way, along with your shoes, then sink down on his cock, slowly grinding on him with your hands in his hair. You want to touch him everywhere, so you rub your palms down his chest and then hold both of his hands as you arch your back and tilt your head up toward the ceiling rafters. The new position tightens your orgasm more quickly, and the way Harry is desperately moaning with his hands clutching your thighs causes heat to prickle all over your body. 

"Such a pretty brat for me, right?" Harry praises you, kissing along your jaw and down your neck. "Getting your way like you always do." 

"Mm-hmm," you hum, every grind making your stomach rub against his, all sweat and smooth skin. "Only for you." 

He nips love bites along your collarbone. "It fucking better be. I don't want you doing this with anyone else." 

"And what if I do?" you ask, the slickness of your arousal sticking to the inside of your thighs. 

Harry opens his mouth with a scoffed moan when you circle your hips. "Th-think I'd die from jealousy." 

The fact that you got him to stutter makes you grind faster until his jaw is clenched and he's clawing scratches on your back. "What's there to be jealous about?" 

"That they get to stuff this tight pussy, and I don't." His eyes roll back as he starts to stimulate your clit with his thumb.

Not only is he a moody motherfucker, but he's a filthy one too. 

"You're doing it right now, though," you say, and Harry nods briskly. "Consider yourself lucky." 

"But I want to be the only one." 

"I know." You suddenly choke out a moan when your orgasm approaches. "I'm going to come, Harry. Oh, God..."

"Me too," he says, his chest heaving. "Give me a good one, baby." 

You hold onto his shoulders and tense your thighs while you release, Harry stilling as well as his hips jerk to meet yours. You feel him fill you up, and after he runs himself dry, you fall against his body from exhaustion, whining into his neck as the pleasure consumes you. His arms wrap around your waist, bringing you in for a lazy hug while his cock slowly softens inside you. 

The rain pours outside, and the ambiance calms you down while your body relaxes. It reminds you of a time when things were easier, a time without complicated feelings or unresolved issues. 

Harry abruptly begins giggling, his chest rising with each breathy laugh. You join in, but you don't necessarily understand what's so funny. You lift your head to see deep dimples carved into his cheeks and the devastatingly gorgeous crinkles near his eyes. 

Once his laughter dies down, he says, "We just orgasmed at the same time to "Beautiful" by Xtina." 

"No way," you reply, breaking into more giggles. 

Harry starts cackling as the dramatic piano ballad plays from the boombox, possibly the worst song to listen to while having sex. It's so ridiculous that tears form in your eyes and your sides start hurting from laughing so hard. 

"We also just fucked with our socks on," Harry adds, resting his covered feet on the couch and wiggling his toes.

"Sexy." 

"Super sexy. And quite comfortable." 

You smile and glance at his lips, feeling an intense urge to kiss them, but you know you shouldn't. As soft as they look, it would only make things more complicated. Well, besides the fact that you still have sex with him. You're okay with the equal exchange of satisfaction, even though the emotional boundaries seem to blur more and more each time. 

"You can kiss me," Harry whispers. 

You swallow and shake your head, playing with the ends of his curls. "That's not what we do anymore. I get mine, and you get yours, remember? That's it." 

"You let me kiss you earlier," he points out. 

"That was a different kind of kiss." 

He just makes a disappointed face and lifts your hips so he can pull out. He then stands still, holding you with one arm, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he walks over to the boombox. 

"What should we listen to next?" he asks in your ear, delicately pressing a button to remove the black and white cassette. 

You tilt your head sideways and read the names on the stack of cassettes. "Hmm... how about Time and Form: Celestial Meditation? Sounds like the perfect soundtrack for aftercare." 

Harry snorts. "Shut up." 

You laugh and dig your heels into his lower back, wanting to be even closer to his bare skin. The full-fledged urge to kiss him returns again, this time with a bizarre wave of sadness. 

You can't. He's your ex. 

It would cross the line that was never really there in the first place, but it's a faint one, and it still matters. To you, to him, and to the stakes of what you are to each other. Yet you spend days and nights lying in bed, wondering if he'll call you on the old wall phone at the shop and ask you to come over just because. Or when he tells you he missed you when you do show up, hugging you tight and thanking you for lunch. Or when he's glum and sulky to everyone else but you, his face immediately lights up when you step into the room. 

It all means something, but you'll never allow it to become more than that. Just fleeting moments make up for the emptiness you felt when you stopped being romantically involved with him. It quells the ache, but only in real-time. Afterward, you go home to the apartment you live in by yourself, wishing he could follow you there and stay with you like he used to. 

You didn't cry when you broke up with him because you knew there would still be some sort of relationship present, even though it wouldn't involve dating. That's when you both agreed to keep having sex without the strings attached; however, the buried feelings you have always seem to burst into uncontrollable flames when he touches you. You'll never admit it, though, because a purely physical relationship with him is better than not having one at all. 

It'd be a shame to lose the fire where the smoke is. 

——

[hotluncheddie]

Luck o' the Irish

written for the May @steddiemicrofic prompt 'top' !

wc: 510 | rated: T | cw: alcohol | tags: Modern AU, Meetcute, Gay Disaster Eddie Munson, Platonic Hellcheer, Buckingham, Chubby Steve Harrington (as always)

☘︎☘︎☘︎☘︎☘︎

‘Stupid water looks gross green.’ Eddie mumbles to himself, leaning on the railing and looking down at the dyed Chicago river.

Someone knocks into him, his beer sloshing onto his hand and all he gets is a distant ‘sorry dude’ thrown his way.

The only reason he’s here is Chrissy’s determination to end his dry spell, which somehow means making him hang out at overcrowded bars on St Patrick’s day. 

He kind of hates it. But he love her, even if hungover Chrissy is like living with a troll... He should ask her if she knows any riddles. 

He giggles to himself and downs the rest of his beer. Gripping the railing more tightly as he sways a little. Maybe he needs a water.

‘Eddie!’ Chrissy squeals, shoving back over to him through the crowd. ‘Look! I made friends! They escaped from Hawkins too!’ She lunges at him, wrapping her skinny arms around his neck and squeezing. 

Chrissy lets go to hook elbows with a tall, freckled girl wearing a forest green button up and slacks. Totally Chrissy’s type. Soft butch, cute. 

‘Hi.’ Eddie waves, giving Chris a look and smiling as the girl keeps glancing sideways at her, like she can’t believe her luck. 

Eddie likes her, he decides. 

‘Eddie this is Robin and, oh, where’d your friend go?’ Chrissy asks, straining her neck and leaning more heavily into the girls side. Freckle girl, Robin, goes even redder. Yeah, Eddie likes her. 

‘Hey.’ Someone says from Eddie’s left. He turns and finds a guy standing next to him, with big soft eyes and green glitter on his cheeks, a green bandana tied around his neck, highlighting his soft jaw. White tank and tight blue jean shorts showing off the hairy chub of his waist and thighs… He’s gorgeous. 

‘Oh! Here’s Steve.’ Chrissy chirps. ‘Robs friend! From Hawkins! Steve this is my friend Eddie, the one I was telling you about.’ Her eyes on Eddie sharp, because she knows, knows Steve is exactly his type.

‘To-top o’ the mornin’ to ya.’ Eddie stammers.

Steve raises an eyebrow. Crossing his arms and Eddie is so not distracted by the way his pecs flex, little peak of cleavage visible at his neckline, flecks of glitter shimmering in his chest hair. 

Eddie snaps his eyes back up.

‘Are you Irish?’ Steve asks.

‘…no.’ 

‘Oh.’ He pouts. ‘Think I can still kiss you later though?’ His finger tracing the neckline of Eddie’s t-shirt. It’s Chrissy's from last year, faded green with “kiss me I’m Irish” stretched across his chest.  

Eddie gulps, cheeks going hot, but he manages to nod. 

A smile stretches across Steve’s face, stars shining in his eyes. ‘Well, aren’t I lucky.’ He murmurs, cocking his head to the side. 

‘Let's do shots.’ Chrissy declares, wicked grin on her face and she starts walking to the next bar over, pulling Robin with her. 

Eddie thinks again, vaguely, about water. 

But then he’s distracted by Steve’s fingers lacing with his own, soft smile on his face as he pulls Eddie along with him.  

☘︎☘︎☘︎☘︎☘︎

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@marvel-ous-m

[fratttymatty]

Back To The Past

(All characters are 18+)

Eli Turner was an adventurer in the truest sense of the word. At 20 years old, he had explored every nook and cranny of his college town, seeking out abandoned places like they were treasures waiting to be uncovered. His favorites were old warehouses, deserted schools, and forgotten buildings that whispered secrets from the past. But his newest obsession was an abandoned mall on the edge of town, a place he’d heard rumors about but never visited. People said it had once been a bustling center of activity in the 1980s, but when the new shopping center opened a few miles away, the old mall was left to rot.

Eli loved the idea of stepping into a space frozen in time, untouched and decaying, as if it were a momentary glimpse into a world that no longer existed. His friends thought it was weird, but to him, it was perfect. He loved exploring the past, especially when he could do it on his own terms.

It was a warm, late summer afternoon when he finally decided to go to the mall. He grabbed his camera, a flashlight, and a backpack filled with snacks, then hopped on his bike. The mall was located on the outskirts of town, far enough that most people had forgotten about it. As he pedaled there, he imagined the bustling crowds, the neon signs flashing, the music drifting out of stores. What did it feel like to be there in its prime? What was it like to experience a place that was now nothing but a faded memory?

When Eli reached the mall, he stood at the entrance, eyes wide with awe. The sign that once read "Crystal Springs Mall" was barely visible, the letters half-faded and chipped, but he could make them out if he squinted. The doors were locked, but that didn’t stop him. He was no stranger to finding a way in.

The side door was slightly ajar, as if it had been waiting for him. With a quick push, Eli entered the darkened mall, his footsteps echoing off the empty halls. The scent of must and old wood filled his nostrils as he turned on his flashlight and began to explore. The escalators were frozen in time, frozen in place, as were the stores. He wandered past long-forgotten stores like Champs Sports, Sam Goody, and Orange Julius. His heart raced as he took it all in.

He made his way to the food court, and there, in the center, stood an old fountain, its water still. He crouched to get a closer look, his flashlight scanning the cracked tiles and faded murals. Everything about this place seemed wrong, but also perfect, like stepping into a dream or a forgotten memory.

And that’s when it happened.

The ground beneath him seemed to shudder, a soft vibration underfoot that sent a shiver up his spine. He stood up quickly, scanning the area. There was nothing unusual, but something felt off. Almost as if the mall itself was alive, waiting.

Eli turned to leave, but his body froze when he noticed something that hadn’t been there before. In the middle of the food court, there was a strange door—one he was sure had never existed. It was old-fashioned, wood-panelled with a brass handle that gleamed even in the dim light. His curiosity gnawed at him.

Before he could think too much about it, Eli approached the door, and as he did, a sudden gust of air swirled around him. The door creaked open, as if inviting him in. Without thinking, he stepped through.

The moment Eli stepped through the strange door, he felt a jolt, as if the very fabric of the world was being rewoven around him. The air shifted, thickened, and for a heartbeat, everything went still. His senses sharpened—colors seemed to snap into sharper focus, and sounds that had been muted became overwhelmingly clear. His head throbbed as if trying to process a flood of information all at once.

As the world around him began to settle, Eli looked down at himself. The loose, comfortable college clothes he’d been wearing—skinny jeans, a hoodie with a faded logo, and scuffed sneakers—were gone, replaced by something entirely different. His T-shirt was now a tight, bright red one with a sports brand emblazoned across the chest, his jeans fit snugly and tapered at the ankles, and his sneakers were high-top, almost too pristine to be real.

But it wasn’t just his clothes that had changed. His body felt... heavier, more substantial. He’d always been lean, wiry—now, he was broad-shouldered, muscular, his arms thick with strength that had never been there before. His reflection in the window of a nearby store sent a jolt of disbelief through him. The face staring back was the same, yet different: square jaw, high cheekbones, sharper, stronger features. It wasn’t the face of the Eli who had spent his nights exploring forgotten places and reading in quiet corners—it was the face of someone who belonged here.

His hair... that was the biggest change of all.

He ran his hands through his hair and froze. What had once been a messy, tousled mop of dark brown hair was now... something else entirely. His fingers met thick, wavy curls that felt foreign to him. It was soft but voluminous, and it seemed to have a life of its own—bouncy, fluffy, and wild. As his fingers ran through it, he felt the shape of it fall over his neck in a kind of perfectly chaotic way. It was like he was looking at a grown-out, curly mullet—a style that screamed 1980s loud and clear.

"Whoa..." Eli... no, Ryan—he was pretty sure his name was now Ryan—said aloud to himself, his voice deeper than he remembered, a bit huskier. He tugged at a lock of hair, mesmerized. It was like something from an old high school yearbook, a style that belonged to the jocks and cool kids he’d seen on TV but never thought he’d embody.

"Looks good on you, bro," came a voice from behind him.

Ryan spun around to see a guy in a leather jacket—definitely a classic 1980s style—grinning at him like they were old friends. He felt a surge of recognition, like this person was a part of his life in a way that felt so comfortable, so familiar. He wanted to give the guy a high-five, maybe throw an arm around his shoulders, but he didn’t even know his name yet.

"Yeah, thanks," Ryan replied, trying to ignore the sinking feeling that something was wrong—something about his old life. The more he looked around, the more everything felt right, like he was always supposed to be here. His reflection, his clothes, the new energy in his body—it was all in place. He was him. This was who he was.

He flexed his shoulders as if testing the new muscles, and they felt... perfect. Strong, solid, like they were meant for something. He stood a little taller, his posture straighter, more confident. His hair, now a fluffy, curly mullet that seemed to fit him effortlessly, bounced with each movement of his head. As he ran a hand through it again, it felt natural, like this was how it was always meant to be. The feeling of his old self—the Eli who wandered the world quietly, curious and introspective—began to fade, like a dream slipping away from his consciousness.

The guy in the leather jacket clapped him on the back. "You coming with us to the arcade, or what?"

Ryan nodded. "Yeah, sure," he said with an easy, confident grin that didn’t feel forced, but like it had always been there. The invitation felt more like a command than a suggestion, and Ryan was eager to follow.

As they walked, Ryan’s hair bounced with every step—his mullet a little more wild now, the curls not just waving in the air but taking on a life of their own. It was as if his body was fully embracing this 1980s persona, from the way he moved, to the way his clothes fit, to the loud, proud, irreverent style of his hair. Every inch of him screamed jock, popular, alive.

There was a strange satisfaction in it. He didn’t need to think about it; it just was. He was Ryan now, and that was who he would be. The mall, the strange door, his old life—it all seemed distant, like a dream he could barely remember.

As they reached the arcade, the flashing neon lights welcoming him in, Ryan felt the last remnants of Eli's existence slipping away. There was no need to wonder about his past, no need to think about the life he’d left behind. He was exactly where he was supposed to be.

The past? It didn’t matter anymore.

Ryan grinned at the sound of the arcade machines beeping and buzzing around him. He was home.

Over the next few days, Ryan fell into his new life with eerie ease. He went to high school, hung out with his jock friends, and spent hours in the arcade. The more he lived this life, the more natural it felt. His old identity—the curious college student who loved abandoned places—faded into a distant memory, something he barely remembered. His new world felt more real than the one he had come from.

He no longer cared about the past. The idea of his old life, of being a gay college kid who explored forgotten buildings, seemed silly now. His mind didn’t yearn for solitude or adventure. Instead, he cared about football games, parties, and the approval of his friends. His body, too, had shifted to match this new life. He was bigger, stronger, more attractive in a way that made girls—and even some guys—look at him with admiration.

But deep down, somewhere in the back of his mind, a small part of him remembered something—a fleeting image of an old, abandoned mall, of exploring on his own terms. But it was distant, fading like a dream, until it, too, vanished completely.

And as Ryan stood on the edge of the football field one crisp autumn evening, watching the lights of the school shine down on him, he didn’t look back. He didn’t need to. The past was gone. He was home.

[elidoesntbreathwee]

A Shiny Rock

Eddie touched people - like a lot - he did it with most people he became even slightly close with, for the most part, but unbeknownst to Steve, he also liked to give gifts. The gifts that Eddis gave weren't the typical candy bar or flowers with a nice card -- as a matter of fact that weren’t anything of the sort. Eddie liked to pick up things he found that he liked, and carry them in his pocket -- Wayne called him a goblin for it -- but now, he’d been developing a new habit.

Eddie would find something he liked - usually something shiny, or a rock, sometimes both - he would carry around whatever he found for the whole day, and then when he inevitably saw Steve, he would present it to him.

“Stevie! Look what I found!” Eddie gleamed.

Steve would admire whatever trinket Eddie had found that day and had in his palm, then look in his eyes, seeing the glimmer of excitement, saying something along the lines of: “Eddie, this is lovely!” Steve would smile the soft smile he unknowingly reserved just for Eddie and his little trinkets.

Eddie’s smile would shine brighter than the sun, then, he’d hold out his hands, “Here Steve-o, you can have it.”

Steve would accept it, of course, and keep it in his pocket, until he put it in the little box of gifts from Eddie that he’d accumulated over a few months.

One cloudy afternoon, Eddie was walking as he saw in the corner of his eye something shiny -- and for Eddie, this meant something great, because he loved anything shiny, especially if it was useless junk he would never use. He crouched down over where he’d seen it to see a glimmering, silvery rock. He picked it up, admiring its ruff texture and pale silver color, and slipped it into his pocket, not thinking too much about it for the rest of his afternoon.

That evening he was hanging out with the part, as had become quite common, and the party, of course, included Steve.

“Hey Stevie! Look at this!” Eddie said, slipping the silvery rock out of the pocket of his black skinny jeans -- walking over to Steve, holding out the trinket. 

“Oh, Eds! That's so cool, I love it!” Steve said smiling. Eddie noticed this -- he always noticed this. Steve would always smile brightly telling Eddie that whatever he brought to show him was lovely and that he loved it. It made Eddie shine as brightly as the rock he’d found earlier - but that rock was a pebble compared to the resplendent glimmering inside Eddie whenever Steve so much as looked at him. Eddie knew it wasn’t right, he knew it wasn’t smart, and he knew it would never happen, but the spark in his eyes and warm glow in his heart didn’t seem to get that message. Eddie had been staring at the rock for a good few moments now, before he looked up at Steve to see the brightness of his smile had faded into a confused and slightly confused miniature frown.

“What’s wrong, Stevie?” Eddie said knitting his eyebrows

“I- it’s nothing Eds… don't worry” Steve said glancing down once or twice

“Steve, come on, I know something’s up. You can tell me.” Eddie laid his hand on Steve’s arm, holding the stone in only one hand now.

“I- I don’t know, it’s stupid, but you always tell me I can have whatever little thingy you find and- ugh” Steve interrupted himself with a groan, and a facepalm. “It’s just- I don’t know, you didn’t and I feel stupid about it now but… i guess i just… really like it” Steve said

“Hey Steve.” Eddie asked, smiling a soft smile.

“Yeah?” Steve felt like a total idiot, but he answered anyway.

“Would you like to keep the rock I found?” Eddie can’t contain his bright, gleaming smile.

Steve’s eyes started to tear up, “Yeah, yeah I do, Eds.” He smiled.

The night Eddie go home to his trailer, but instead had gone with Steve to his house (you couldn’t really call it a home, it looked like it was picked straight out of a magazine) and he watched as Steve pull out the box of every rock, trinket, or, to be frank, piece of garbage that Eddie had ever offered him -- Steve accepting every time. Eddie began to tear up, knowing that Steve had kept it all.

“Eds? What’s wrong?” Steve asked, having set down the rock in the box.

“You… you kept them?” Eddie said, tears beginning to well up.

“Of course I did, I mean… you gave them to me.” Steve smiled, walking over to Eddie, hugging him.

Eddie knew it probably wasn’t anything more than a platonic exchange, but Eddie wished it were more, because fuck, he really liked Steve. He liked Steve in a way he’d never liked anyone before -- sure Eddie had had dumb crushes before, but this? This was so much different than that. Eddie knew he had close to no chance, that if he told Steve, he would push him away and never want to hang out with him again, and Eddie just couldn’t bear that. He stayed quiet, soaking up as much as he could out of the embrace, but never taking it any further.

Steve pulled back -- Eddie knew it wouldn’t last forever, but he wished he could have paused the world at that moment, taking in every drop of Steve’s affection. Steve brought his hand to Eddie’s cheek, wiping away the tears that Eddie hadn’t noticed had fallen.

Steve paused.

“Eddie.” Steve whispered.

“Yeah?” Eddie responded, worried he’d accidentally leaned into Steve’s touch and he had noticed, or that he’d somehow taken things too far and ruined everything between the two of them.

“Can I kiss you?” Steve breathed.

Eddie’s heart both stopped and beat faster than it ever had -- the world stopped, whether in the good or bad way was yet to be determined, because of course, Eddie’s mind would tell him that Steve was just fucking around with him.

“W-what.” Eddie croaked out,

“I- I, um, said ‘Can I kiss you’” Steve swallowed.

Eddie’s eyes started to shine, whether with tears or hope -- or both, who was to tell.

“Yes, god, yes.” Eddie breathed out, smiling.

Steve lifted his hand once again to cup Eddie’s cheek, smiling before kissing him. Eddie was almost convinced this was a dream -- but he was really here, kissing Steve Harrington, the guy he definitely hasn’t had a pathetic crush on since sophomore year. 

Steve pulled back -- and of course it makes Eddie second guess himself.

“Hey Eds.” Steve whispers, his face still so close to Eddie’s that Eddie can feel the warmth as Steve talks.

Eddie hums in response.

“Thank you for the rock.” Steve said before kissing him again.

Eddie was the one to put a pause in their shared affections this time -- he wrapped his arms around Steve, hiding his head in the crook of Steve’s neck. Steve hugged him back, but the hug felt different than the one they had shared only some minutes ago - much more romantic.

“Steve.” Eddie mumbled into his neck.

“Yeah, Eds, what’s up?” Steve replied.

“Does this mean… that you like me too?” Eddie asks.

Steve breaths out a short laugh, “Mhm… It does. Does that mean you like me back?” He says softly.

Eddie looks up at him, scoffing, “Only since forever, dumbass.” He says, before returning to Steve's neck.

Eddie smiles, “If you think about it, we kissed because you wanted a rock.” Eddie says into Steve’s neck, trying to hold back a giggle.

Steve rolls his eyes, trying (and failing) to hold back a smile, “Shut up.” He says, kissing the top of Eddie’s head, then Leading him over to his bed where the two cuddle, and kiss, until way to late into the night.

-

(A/N) hi hi!! i hope u liked that :) it was kinda a silly concept but i really like how it turned out :) if u did like it, a like or reblog would be SOOSOSOS appreciated!! love u <33