#i had to write this twice because i accidentally closed out the first time

[asahicore]

cold hands - psh (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact

pairing. sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis. plot plot plot what is a plot when you can just have vibes and a vague narrative direction... if you MUST know you go to your brother's hockey team back-to-uni party accidentally matching one of the members with your cowgirl barbie costume. hopelessly romantic sunghoon sees this as a sign that the two of you are meant to be together, but you're impossible to read and soon the two of you settle on an ambiguous secret friends with benefits relationship. unfortunately, conflict ensues.

genre. strangers to friends to fwb to lovers..?? its not an asahicore fic if it doesnt have fluff angst AND smut, brothers best friend, jock x nerd type vibe, slight miscommunication put your pitchforks away and hear me out pls it works out i promise, reader has ISSUES 💜 loser loverboy sunghoon, its mostly in his pov, i know nothing about ice hockey

word count. 39.5k 😂

a/n. inspired by @moonlighthoon's request for the 1k trope event! sorry it took ages to write but i hope you like it and that i met ur expectations!!!! hope everyone else enjoys it too, this is the longest fic ive ever written and im quite proud of it, pls pls pls let me know what u thought <333 shoutout to @zreamy .. good luck with your studies, thank u for beta reading and making this fic exponentially better as u always do ⭐️ credit to @/plutism for the dividers :)

Some men never think of it. You did. You’d come along And say you’d nearly brought me flowers But something had gone wrong.

The shop was closed. Or you had doubts - The sort that minds like ours Dream up incessantly. You thought I might not want your flowers.

It made me smile and hug you then. Now I can only smile. But, look, the flowers you nearly brought Have lasted all this while. - Wendy Cope, Flowers

When Sunghoon falls in love, it usually goes as quickly as it came.

Just to name a few:

There had been Ahn Yujin, whose family had moved next to his when he was twelve, and whose dog got on perfectly with his. His crush on the cute girl next door grew with every walk the four of them took but disappeared the second she ditched him to walk home from school with Na Jaemin. 

A few years later, there had been Bae Sumin, who sat in front of him and always had her hair up in a ponytail he found exceedingly pretty. An appointment at the hairdresser was enough for him to stop liking her, as if his interest in her had been laying in the ten centimeters of hair she had cut off. 

In his junior year of high school, there had been Kim Yerim, a college student that tutored him in Math and English. She was three years older, but that didn’t deter him—what did was the fact that she was dating a college graduate. She showed him a picture once, and the guy had biceps probably twice the size of Sunghoon’s. He thought it was safer to give up on her than to fight such a bulky guy five years his senior. 

The first time it stuck was during his first year of college. She was his coach’s daughter and he liked the way she would smile at him when she came to watch their practice. Sunghoon didn’t like to think about her, mainly because even after she broke his heart, for a while there, he continued to love her. 

So, when he first spots you from across the room at the Welcome Back costume party thrown by his hockey team, unintentionally the Cowboy Barbie to his Cowboy Ken, he tries not to read too much into it. Barbie was a hit this summer, it’s an easy and topical costume, of course there’s a pretty girl wearing the same bright pink cowboy hat he is. It doesn’t mean she’s the love of his life.

Right?

He knows you from the pictures that littered the walls of Minjeong, Yunjin and Chaewon’s apartment last year, from Instagram posts, both yours and your friends’, from your video calls with Jake, who dragged him into the camera’s view. Say hi to my sister, he’d insist, like Sunghoon was a child who didn’t want to greet his great-great-aunt. He’d dip in to say hi as requested, ask how you were, and mumble me too like a fool when you said you heard so much about him and were excited to meet him in real life. 

These are the things Sunghoon knows about you: Jake’s older sister by a year, currently on a year abroad in Rome, studies something fancy like Classics, which he hadn’t known people still did in the twenty-first century, deep attachment to Stardew Valley in first year, rarely seen with the same man twice, very pretty. Absurdly so. He’s also weirdly obsessed over the texts you’ve sent to the group chat he was added to at the beginning of last year—scarce, short, elusive. Never more than two sentences, and always long after the conversation was over. But sometimes you’d send photos and videos out of nowhere, of your adventures or of funny things you saw online, and he always hearted them. He even replied to it sometimes (brave hahas or that’s so cool!s), in hopes that it would make you like him, would make you think, he gets me. 

The two of you have never formally yet because you left for Italy the year he started university. He’s been nervous about meeting you since the first time the group told him about you. 

Now that he is about to, he can hear his heart thumping so loudly in his ears, it drowns out the bass of the music. He’s glad he gets to see you before having to talk to you—he’s not sure he could take in your presence and form coherent words at the same time. He watches you laugh with your friends, the smile lines that form like dimples around your mouth, the strands of hair you keep tucking behind your ear. Then someone joins your group—except it’s not just someone, it’s Minjeong, her denim jacket so often worn he recognises her from the back, and he realizes the people you’re with have been Chaewon and Yunjin this whole time. The three of them have been banging on about you all year, even more so due to the fact that their replacement flatmate was dreadful, a Spanish girl who only hung out with other Spanish exchange students and looked the girls up and down when they tried to invite her out somewhere.

You turn towards Minjeong, and before he knows it, he’s in your line of sight, and your eyes meet. Confusion, then a flash of recognition goes through your eyes. He had been resting his elbow on a countertop, cider bottle in hand and watching you, he realizes, not unlike a creep, but now he stands up straight and looks around him as if you hadn’t just caught him staring. Before he can find a way out, Jake appears by his side and throws an arm around his shoulders, guiding him into the throng of party-goers and, coincidentally, closer to you.

“Dude, you’ll never guess what.”

“What?” Sunghoon says, tone coming out more irritated than he means it to. He’s just had to give up on making a good first impression on you, and he doesn’t even have the time to think of a way to redeem himself. When he dares to look back at you, your eyes are already on him, a small smile on your lips. You probably hate him already.

“My sister is dressed just like you. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you guys came together or something. Hey, guys!” Jake calls out, and all of a sudden, it’s not just your eyes on him, it’s everyone’s. Well, to be fair, they’re also looking at Jake. But you’re only looking at Sunghoon, and he can’t look away from you either, can’t even manage the politeness to hug everyone in greeting like Jake is doing now. He watches as your eyes rake over his figure, taking him in, assessing him, and he suddenly feels awkward in his costume that matches yours, like he’s somehow overstepped a boundary, like you might think he’s asked around about your costume, found out you were going as Barbie and decided to match you so you’d think the two of you were meant together, like he had two minutes ago, and come to the fairly reasonable decision that he was the weirdest man on Earth. But then you meet his eyes, smile a kind, genuine smile, and his whole body relaxes. 

“Hey, Hoon!” Chaewon calls, arms open wide. He remembers himself and hugs everyone, even you, and he has to pretend like this is completely fine and normal, like his hands aren’t practically shaking as his arms circle your shoulders in a two-second embrace. 

You squeeze one of his shoulders, and keeping his countenance is a Herculean task. He feels like those people centuries ago who passed out at the sight of a lady’s ankle. “It’s so nice to finally meet you,” you say, peering at him over the rim of your red cup. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Sunghoon feels the blush growing on his face; he wasn’t expecting so much of your attention so quickly. He takes a swig of his lukewarm cider, hoping if he seems drunk, it might explain his redness. “Good things, I hope,” he says, aware of the unoriginality but unable to come up with anything better.

“Oh, don’t worry, they’ve made you out to be a saint.” You’ve not once broken eye contact or stopped smiling—it should intimidate him, but instead, it makes Sunghoon feel like you’ve known each other for ages and that this isn’t your first conversation at all. He finds himself able to relax into a smile, and manages to meet your eyes for more than three seconds at a time.

“You don’t believe them?”

You pause, gaze zeroing in on him even more intensely than previously, smile turning smirk-like. Sunghoon’s heart skips a beat. Okay, maybe he’s not that relaxed. “I don’t know you well enough to make up my mind yet. But we’ll be seeing plenty of each other from now on, won’t we?”

This is exactly what Sunghoon has been warned about. You at parties, the way you look at guys, the way you talk to them. Sunghoon has been the audience of more than one recreation of such a scene, Yunjin pretending to be you, Chaewon pretending to be your “victim,” as the others liked to call them. Because once you had set your eyes on a man, he had little chance of making it out. Jay prides himself as being the only survivor, although he has to admit it’s only because Jake interrupted your conversation, telling him, “I see you’ve met my sister.” And Jay was not the kind of person that got off with their friends’ siblings, especially since his and Jake’s friendship was only a week long at that point, and he didn’t want to ruin the atmosphere in their dorm for the rest of the year just because his dick had gotten the best of him. His words. Whenever they were all hanging out together and they called you, one of the girls would inevitably ask if you had “turned any Italian boys into men” or if you had been “terrorizing the good men of Rome recently.” You would either roll your eyes or say this was not a conversation to be had in front of your brother.

Sunghoon had been sure they were exaggerating—it takes two to tango, as they say, and it wasn’t like you ensnared innocent men into your trap. They had to be willing, to want something from you just as much as you wanted something from them. He’d also gotten them to admit it wasn’t that frequent, that you weren’t looking for a new prey every party, just once in a while when you found someone you liked. (He’d been very quiet when Jay asked why he was trying so hard to defend you.)

But now that he is on the receiving end of your alluring smiles, he starts to understand how one could fall for you without meaning to. He knows he can’t — Jake probably wouldn’t take to it kindly, and he didn’t want to spoil the dynamic of his best group of friends at uni — but he has a feeling that ten minutes of talking to you would be enough to shake his resolve.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure we will. Jake said you studied a lot, but I’m sure we’ll get to hang out. All of us, I mean,” he quickly adds, lest you think he’s already asking you to hang out one-on-one. Sunghoon would not be that forward.

“Of course. I have to see if you did a good enough job replacing me for a year.” Sunghoon’s eyes widen, and before he can blurt out something weirdly laudatory like “I could never replace you, I would never even try, I don’t know you but you’re clearly far superior to me in every aspect and I could never even claim to fill your spot,” you giggle and tell him it’s just a joke. “If anything, I’m happy Jake has managed to make a new friend that he didn’t meet through me, that loser,” you say, and together, you laugh at Jake’s loserness, a topic that will never fail to amuse Sunghoon, although he’s not faring much better in that department. 

“Like, look at him right now,” you say, jerking your head in Jake’s general direction, somewhere behind Sunghoon’s shoulder—and that’s when he realizes that it’s just the two of you standing there, the others gone without him even noticing. Sunghoon turns around, finding the girls, Jay, and a bunch of other people he vaguely recognizes huddled around Jake. They all start chanting his name as he gulps down a giant red cup of beer, then raises the empty cup over his head in victory and crumples it, beaming at the people around him. 

“What is he doing?” Sunghoon asks, laughing at his friend.

“Jay called him over for a beer-off,” you explain. After a beat, you ask, “You didn’t notice?”

The implications are clear in your tone and in your eyes. In the smile playing on your lips, just shy of being a smirk. You didn’t notice because of me, is what you’re really telling Sunghoon—at least, that’s the impression he’s getting. And you’d be right. He was too busy talking to you and trying his best not to make a fool of himself to notice his friends leaving, too engrossed with you to register the sudden disappearance of four people. Across the room, where people have shifted their attention to yet another hockey player downing a sizable amount of beer, he catches Chaewon’s eyes, and she winks at him. Of course—leave it to Chaewon, to whom Sunghoon once made the mistake of drunkenly rambling about how pretty you looked in your Instagram posts last year, to give you and Sunghoon some time alone, “to get to know each other properly,” she would probably say. Although he isn’t sure that small talk over 2000s music counts as getting to know someone. According to the others, she and Yunjin started dating a month into their second year, so Chaewon has proclaimed herself as the goddess of dating and is now always trying to set people up. Sunghoon thinks she’s just living vicariously through her friends now that she has a Mrs. at home.

Because the filter usually at work between the part of Sunghoon’s brain where sentences are formed and his mouth is apparently on leave today, he says, “I do have a pretty distracting sight in front of me.” He’s immediately both mortified and impressed by this sudden bout of confidence, but then you look down and giggle, actually giggle, the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, and only pride remains. 

“So, Ken?” you ask, a cute attempt to change the subject, taking the fabric of the pink bandana around his neck between your fingers. Sunghoon wonders if you’re going to yank him down to your level, and he thinks he wouldn’t have much of a problem with that. 

He realizes that even though you should technically know each other’s names, you haven’t actually exchanged them, so in a confused but correcting tone, he says, “Um, Sunghoon.” He only belatedly realizes that you hadn’t gotten his name wrong, you were just making a comment on his costume, which he had completely forgotten he was wearing in the first place. Just as he’s about to backtrack and salvage what he can of the situation, you burst into laughter, hand leaving his bandana to cover your mouth as he hides his face behind his own hands, laughing along with you despite himself. 

“I know your name is Sunghoon!” you exclaim. The gratification of hearing you say his name takes away some of his embarrassment. “I’m Y/N, by the way. Not Barbie.”

Sunghoon nods. “Good to know.”

The laughter gradually dies down, but your smile stays the same; wide, bright, a smile that exposes your teeth and turns your eyes into crescents. Sunghoon can’t look away. He’s awash with nerves, your gaze simultaneously planting his feet to the ground like they’re full of lead and making him light-headed. His heart is beating so fast, he can barely feel it anymore. 

The two of you stand there, looking and smiling at each other, like in a cliché movie scene where everyone else at the party seems to fade into the background. He has no idea how much time has passed when you break the silence. “It really is nice to finally meet you,” you say, repeating your statement from earlier, as though you mean it more now. 

“It is,” Sunghoon simply replies, because he doesn’t know how else to express the relief of seeing you in the flesh after hearing about you and looking at a digital version of you for a year. The relief, but also the anticipation of what is to come now that he knows he likes you even more now that he’s actually seen you. And improbable as it sounds, you might even feel the same.

Sunghoon can already feel it. The beginning of something.

You nod towards his now empty cup. “Want a refill?”

Together, you make your way through the crowd of increasingly drunk students until you reach the kitchen, where the countertops overflow with open bottles of liquor of all sorts and paper plates with half-eaten pizza slices on them. He watches your every move as you find a cold bottle of beer in the fridge, a bottle of strawberry syrup in a random cupboard that you had to know was there, and a half-empty discarded bottle of lemonade on the counter. You ask him to tell you about last year, everything you missed out on, and so he does. He knows you’ve probably heard it all from the others before, but you still laugh and gasp like it’s the first time you’re hearing about any of it, all the hockey games they won, Jay getting food poisoning from the sketchy pizzeria he kept eating at, Yunjin almost getting into a fistfight with a man twice her size who was flirting with Chaewon. 

You assemble two drinks and hand him one of them. When he takes a sip, his eyes widen at the refreshing and sweet taste. “Good, right?” you say. “I discovered it on a trip to France last summer.”

“Thank God for France. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever enjoyed drinking beer,” he says.

“That’s probably because you can’t taste the beer at all.”

Sunghoon smiles. “Probably, yeah.”

You turn around, lower back against the counter, and take in the current kitchen population. “We really weren’t very original with our costumes tonight.” Sunghoon, who had not taken his eyes off of you this entire time, follows your gaze. He counts five partygoers dressed in some version of Barbie or Ken, and that’s just the kitchen. He doesn’t blame them—the fact that so many people came dressed in costumes at all impresses him, especially for a party on the 10th of September and not the 31st of October. The social committee of the hockey team just seems to really love themed and dress-up parties.

He chuckles, then takes a sip of his drink. It’s really nice. “Yeah, but we look the best.”

Your head whips towards him, eyes glinting with something that makes Sunghoon smile, even though he doesn’t know what you’re thinking. “Should we enter the couple’s costume contest?” you ask.

At the mention of couple, his eyes widen, his brain tricking him into thinking you’ve asked him out for a second. But when what you actually meant dawns on him, the first thing to come out of his mouth is, “There’s a couple’s costume contest?!”

“Mh-hm. The sign-up sheet should be around here.” 

For what feels like the millionth time since he’s started talking to you, his face heats up. “Are non-couples allowed to enter?”

“We’re Barbie and Ken. I’d say that’s enough of a couple, don’t you think?” 

Right. Because he had been thinking of Sunghoon and Y/N, while you obviously meant Barbie and Ken. In the contest, it doesn’t actually matter whether the contestants are dating in real life—it matters that their costumes match. Sunghoon knows that. He just needed a second.

He grins, deep dimples punctuating his cheeks. “Okay, let’s do it.”

Armed with your drinks, you walk around the kitchen in search of the sign-up sheet. You find it on a wall next to the dining table, which has been turned into a beer pong table for tonight’s festivities, and the sheet is almost filled with names already. Sunghoon can only hope that by midnight, when the contest is set to take place, most participants will have had too much to drink to remember it. You write your names on the list, and Sunghoon likes seeing his name in your handwriting so much he almost wants to take a picture.

“There you guys are!”

You both turn around to find Jake stumbling towards you, clearly more intoxicated than when he had left you half-an-hour ago. He rests his arms on your shoulders, forcing Sunghoon down to his height and making you stumble forwards from the sudden added weight. “I’ve been looking all over for you- You’re entering the contest?!”

For a split second, Sunghoon is scared he’s going to get scolded by Jake for trying to hit on his sister, but surprisingly, it’s you he narrows his eyes at. “Y/N, what are you roping my little Hoonie into?”

Sunghoon groans, face perpetually red at this point. Leave it to Jake to make him seem like a total loser. 

You frown at your brother. “I’m not roping your little Hoonie into anything.” Sunghoon wants to bury himself alive. “We agreed on doing it together. Right?” you ask, turning towards Sunghoon and batting your eyelashes at him. It makes him feel a bit better.

He turns back to Jake. “Right. We’re just joining forces to crush the competition.”

Jake scoffs. “As if.” He snatches the pen from your hands and underlines his name as well as Kazuha’s, the girl he came with tonight, three thick black lines that almost erases the names underneath them. “You can’t beat the hockey player and cheerleader combo.”

“Those aren’t even costumes, you guys are a hockey player and a cheerleader,” you protest.

“So?” Jake simply retorts, more attitude in his tone than he would have were he sober.

“So, that defeats the whole purpose of a costume contest.”

Jake knocks on your cowboy hat, and you immediately put it back in place, glaring at him. “As if Barbie was the greatest costume ever. Whatever, let’s just play beer pong so I can defeat you guys twice in one night.”

“You’re on, Sim.”

“You’re going down, Sim.”

Sunghoon had just been watching your back-and-forth amusedly when you grab his hand, leading him to the side of the table opposite Jake. His fingers tingle under your touch, but just like that, it’s gone. He’d rather keep on holding your hand than play this stupid game, but he isn’t opposed to taking Jake’s ego down a notch, either. The boy can barely stand straight, anyway, so it probably won’t be a very tough match.

Some guy he doesn’t recognize in a striped black-and-white referee t-shirt fills most cups with beer and a couple on each side with shots of vodka—he’s so earnest, Sunghoon isn’t sure whether he’s just taking his costume-slash-role very seriously or if he has genuinely been hired to look over the beer pong matches of the night. Some order in the brutish world of college parties, Sunghoon guesses.

Minjeong, Yunjin, Chaewon and Jay appear then, exchanging a quick look at the sight of you and Sunghoon together. The two former join your team, while the two latter join Jake’s, as well as other people that Sunghoon vaguely recognizes from other parties. But by the simple action of getting behind him, they become his most trusted allies for at least this part of the night.

You’re a terrible shot, but Sunghoon makes up for it by scoring almost every round. In his defense, he only misses when you come up close to him and whisper in his ear which cup he should go for. Your breath tickles his (oddly sensitive) ears and the combined scents of the strawberry and lemonade on your tongue and your delicate perfume make his head spin. He can barely think straight, so his aim is naturally thrown off—other than that, he makes Jay drink a healthy amount of beer. He almost feels bad for his friend, but he’d arrived late at the party and needed to quickly catch up with everyone’s level of ebriety anyway.

When the opposite team is down to their last cup, a lightning bolt of luck strikes you, and your ball disappears straight into the vodka-filled cup that Jake now has the honor of downing. 

Sunghoon gives you no time to celebrate, to gloatingly pump your fists in the air and point a mocking finger at your brother, because as soon as you make the shot, he wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you off the ground. When you’re on your feet again, you spin around to find a proud-looking Sunghoon beaming down at you. You burst into giggles and high-five him, your palms perfectly clapping against each other, and he threads your fingers together. A current of electricity rushes through him, and for a second, he swears it’s just the two of you in this packed room.

The moment is cut short by the loud cheers of the others on your team as they shake your shoulders and raise their hands for you to high-five them too. Minjeong flips the other team off and Yunjin has to go hug Chaewon and reassure her it’s nothing personal. It’s really quite easy to make college students happy—or devastated. 

You raise your eyebrows at Jake, who’s busy glaring at you instead of accepting his defeat and taking his shot. With a begrudging sigh, he tips his head back and drinks the vodka in one gulp, the cheers doubling in volume when his face scrunches at the bitter taste of the liquor.

“Don’t act so proud,” he scolds you. “Sunghoon carried your team.”

“Maybe, but she made us win in the end,” Sunghoon retorts, putting an arm around your shoulder. 

Jake scoffs, frowning at Sunghoon’s hand placement before eye-rolling his gaze away. “Whatever.” He slides his phone out of his back pocket and smiles as he shows the two of you his screen. “Would you look at the time? The contest is starting soon.” Then, with an accusatory finger pointed at you, adds, “You may have won this battle, but I’m winning the war.”

He stomps away, presumably to find Kazuha before the contest starts, and it’s your turn to eye-roll at his dramatics. You grab Sunghoon’s hand that hangs off of your shoulders, and together, make your way through the crowd again to the garage, where the contest is taking place. All the alcohol he’s been drinking has definitely started kicking in by now, and he finds himself giggling at nothing with you.

When you reach the threshold, still hand in hand, Sunghoon stops so abruptly behind you that you almost stumble. You look back at him, then follow his gaze towards the garage and the sheer amount of people in there. Worriedly, his eyes take in every single one of the contenders. You let go of his hand and stand in front of him, placing your hands on his shoulders and putting on a determined expression. You’d almost look like a parent reassuring their kid before their first day of kindergarten if you weren’t so much shorter than him. “Don’t even worry about them, Sunghoon. We look better than anyone here.”

His eyebrows crease. “There’s like, three other Barbie-Ken couples here. Some of these costumes are so original. And do you see their makeup? Is that even possible?” he asks, staring at a couple in scarily realistic cosplay of Simon and Jeanette from Alvin and the Chipmunks, fur and all. He can’t look at them for too long without getting chills.

You shake your head. “Almost everyone here is either a hockey player or a… hockey-affiliated person. You’re the beloved and talented defenseman of the team and I’m the star player’s sister. They’ll love us,” you say with a smile, watching the worry dissipate from his features.

“We’re like nepo babies,” he whispers. His lips break into a grin when your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I don’t know how nepotism works,” he admits, smiling wider when you burst into laughter. “How do you know if I’m talented, anyway? You haven’t seen me play yet.”

Your eyes rake him up and down appreciatively. “I took a wild guess.”

Not unlike a cartoon character, Sunghoon audibly gulps. As a hockey player since his most tender age, and dare he say, a pretty good-looking guy, he is used to girls flirting with him, and he is even hit sometimes by the occasional lightning strike of confidence that allows him to flirt back (he still can’t believe he managed to call you “a distracting sight” without spontaneously combusting). But there’s something in your eyes, in your smile, in the way you talk—something about you that has his breath hitching and his heart racing. He doesn’t know if he wants to run away and hide in a corner or kiss you right then and there.

Heeseung, the captain of the hockey team, announces into a microphone (which Sunghoon wonders where they got the money for) that the contest will start now, so he can neither kiss you nor run away. Instead, he follows you to the side of the room where all the contestants, including Jake and Kazuha, wait for their names to be called out. There are so many participants, it takes way longer than Sunghoon would like for the two of you to step onto the makeshift stage. Judging by the looks on the audience’s faces, everyone is surprised to see you and Sunghoon together—the hockey community at your university may be big, but everyone knows everyone, and gossip travels fast. No one had seen you and Sunghoon together before, for the obvious reason that you hadn’t even met before tonight. But you could be sure that by tomorrow, as silly as it sounds, word will have gone around that you and Sunghoon had participated in a couple costume contest together. 

At least, you give them something of substance to talk about—as you and Sunghoon pose on stage, wearing your brightest smiles to please the crowd, you stand on your toes and press a kiss to Sunghoon’s cheek. Sunghoon’s eyes burn a hole in the side of your face but you just watch as the audience of drunken 20-somethings goes wild over something as simple as a peck on the cheek. Jake is the only one booing. 

Sunghoon is still in shock when the next couple is called forward and you have to step off. His cheeks are redder than before and he can’t quite meet your eyes. Apparently, he also goes wild over something as simple as a peck on the cheek. You nudge his shoulder. “See, I told you they’d like us.” 

He feels like a fourteen-year-old for it, but Sunghoon can’t stop thinking about your soft lips against his cheek, so much so that he barely says a word as the three judges deliberate. If you notice the sudden change in his behavior, you don’t comment on it, perhaps chalking it up to nerves. He’s glad for it—he doesn’t know if he could handle being teased about it, especially from you. Although he’s not sure he wants you to think he’s the kind to stress over a last-minute Halloween costume contest. 

In the end, you don’t win. He suspects it was a rigged contest all along: the couple in the unimpressive Edward and Bella costume are friends with one of the judges, probably leading to their anticlimactic victory. At least it isn’t Simon and Jeannette who win, or Kazuha and Jake, even less original than the winners. Anyway, Sunghoon couldn’t care any less. With your hand in his as you walk back to the main room in search of your other friends, he feels like the biggest victor of the night. He doesn’t even mind it when his teammates tease him about his costume and how good the two of you look together—the smile you shoot him makes putting up with it worth it. He tries to think straight, but between the alcohol and your proximity, he feels like you’ve cast a spell on him.

Jake stumbles into your group, three drinks drunker than when Sunghoon last saw him, enthusiastically reporting that a game of spin the bottle is about to start in one of the rooms upstairs, because what every college party needs is a middle-school game to shake things up. None of the guys seem particularly interested until Jake reveals that the cheerleaders are playing. 

Sunghoon looks down at you, laughing when he sees your mildly disgusted moue. “Don’t feel like playing?”

“Not really, no.” Your eyes linger on his face. “There’s only one person here I want to kiss, anyway.”

All capacity for thought leaves Sunghoon’s brain. He just stares back at you blankly, lips slightly agape, willing himself to say something but also terrified that whatever leaves his mouth might make him seem like the biggest loser ever. 

You couldn’t possibly mean him—but did you? Was he the person you wanted to kiss?

As these questions resound through his head, your gaze drops to his lips. There’s his answer. 

His heart beating wildly in its cage, Sunghoon decides to do one smart thing tonight and leans in, slowly but surely closing the gap between the two of you. Then a sudden vibration in the back pocket of his jeans zaps through him like lightning and he jumps back, as if startled out of the trance you had put him in. Shame flooding his cheeks, he checks his phone; it’s the stupid alarm he set himself earlier to make sure he doesn’t get home too late. Midnight, Cinderella-style. 

You scratch the back of your neck as your eyes dart around the room. For the first time tonight, you look embarrassed—Sunghoon is in disbelief at how pretty you look even then. “I, um,” he starts, clears his throat. “I have this thing tomorrow morning, so I can’t stay too long…” he says guiltily.

He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but he swears that what he sees on your face is disappointment. It makes him want to take it all back, to stay here with you for as long as you want and forget about tomorrow morning. 

“Oh, right,” you say, nodding. “That’s fine. What thing?”

“Oh.” Sunghoon turns an impossibly deeper shade of red, further resembling the strawberry syrup the more he gets himself in these embarrassing situations with you. “Just… choir. I go to choir on Saturday mornings.” He looks down at his feet like he’s just revealed a secret, shameful part of himself.

You burst into laughter, and Sunghoon is scared for a second that you’re making fun of him, and his feelings are a lot more hurt than they should be by someone he just met. Although, to be fair, you don’t feel like someone he just met.

“That’s so cool! It must be such a nice change from all the dudes on the hockey team,” you say, a sweet, curious smile on your lips. Like you mean what you say. Like you might want to know more.

Sunghoon thinks he just fell in love.

He chuckles. “Yeah. Definitely a nice change. As much as I love hockey, it’s nice to do something calmer, you know. And I like singing. And the cakes the local grandmas bring.”

“So that’s what it’s all about, really.”

“Yep, you caught me.” Sunghoon still feels the almost-kiss lingering, a tension between the two of you that has him on edge. He feels like he’s just missed his bus because it left a minute earlier than planned. The opportunity is gone, and he would definitely mess everything up, trying to kiss you now. So instead, he decides to leave. Whatever must happen, will happen, even if it’s not tonight. You have the same friends—this is definitely not the last time you will see each other. “Well, I should probably head. I have to be up at eight tomorrow.”

“Oh, wow. The choir grandmas don’t play around.”

“They really don’t.”

“Well, see you around then,” you say, a clumsy laugh falling from your lips as you wrap your arms around Sunghoon’s neck, bringing him into a tight but short hug. You also smell good, he notes to himself. Of course you do.

“See you, Y/N.” Just as he’s about to turn away, you wrap your hand around his wrist.

“Wait. Sunghoon?” He’s only half-surprised at the immense relief he feels to hear his name on your lips. Like you, too, didn’t want to part with him just yet.

“Yeah?” he says, wishing the hope and anticipation aren’t too obvious on his face.

“Where’s that choir of yours?”

--

When Sunghoon arrives at his neighborhood’s community center, ten minutes before nine a.m., you’re already there. Despite the seven hours of sleep under his belt, he feels like he could’ve done with three more, and the singular cup of instant black coffee he had for breakfast was both atrocious and useless. But your smile has the restorative effect of two Red Bulls and a power nap. You look surprisingly bright, like you either managed to get a very good night’s sleep or are just the biggest morning person to ever exist.

He hugs you when he reaches you on the sidewalk, tighter than he probably should, but you return it. You smell like fresh soap and sugar. The two of you exchange quick greetings before he leads you inside the center. 

“I made some cookies as well.” You point to your tote bag and Sunghoon’s jaw slackens.

“You had time to bake?” 

“Kazuha made me take Jägerbombs, so I felt crazy when I got home. I thought it wouldn’t be fair on the old ladies if they did all the work.”

Sunghoon laughs. “They’re going to love you.”

You follow Sunghoon up two flights of stairs and into a spacious room with a wooden stage. There’s a snacks table on one side of the room that is almost fully decked with plates and tupperwares of all sorts, and although their contents remain covered by tin foil or lids, the coffee and hot water pots are free to use. Most of the chairs are stacked on each side of the room but a few have been put in the middle, the grandmas sitting and chatting there waving at Sunghoon as the two of you walk in. There are about fifteen people in the room so far, most of them older ladies, but not only. There’s a dad that came with his daughter, a couple of teenagers, and a few other adults. It’s quite an eclectic mix, and Sunghoon loves it.

Minjeong is here, too, which Sunghoon realizes he forgot to say until he sees the sheer confusion of finding someone you know in an unexpected place on both of your faces. She walks towards you, suspicious eyes darting between you two.

“Hey,” she says only to Sunghoon before turning to you, arms crossed over her chest. “And what are you doing here?”

“Hi, Minjeong, so nice to see you too!”

“I invited Y/N,” Sunghoon says quickly, although you did technically invite yourself. For some reason, he feels the need to defend you, even though he knows you and Minjeong have been friends for years now, and Minjeong is just always this blunt.

“I didn’t know this was the choir you went to,” you say to Minjeong.

“Oh, this?” She looks around the room. “It’s only the choir I’ve been going to since I was a kid. You’d know that if today wasn’t the first day you showed interest in it, ever.”

“I came to your concerts!”

One of the old ladies calls Sunghoon’s name from the snack table, and he is glad for the diversion. “Right. I’ll let you guys talk this out.” A hand on your shoulder, he smiles down at you. “I’m gonna say hi to the ladies over there. Be back in a minute.” He shoots Minjeong a look as if to say, Be normal. 

As he approaches the small group, one of them asks very loudly if you’re his girlfriend. They all burst into giggles, blushing and eager-eyed like they’re sixteen rather than sixty. Sunghoon would be endeared if you didn’t look so alarmed and Minjeong so horrified, both of you looking at him before turning back to each other and getting into a very heated and secretive discussion. He is bombarded with a hundred questions: what your name is, where you’re from, how did the two of you meet, are you together? No? But you’re so pretty! And he’s such a nice boy! He answers all of their queries to the best of his ability while checking that your conversation with Minjeong hasn’t turned physical—your arms are now also crossed over your chest, and you look annoyed while she looks like she’s accusing you of something, but at least, punches aren’t being thrown. 

Thankfully, it’s only a couple more minutes until the conductor calls for everyone to gather on stage, and a weight is lifted off of Sunghoon’s shoulders once the ladies’ collective attention is no longer on him. He isn’t sure where they came from, or why they’ve decided to make the choir rehearsal their hang-out spot, but there is always a group of women who sit there and knit while chatting quietly or listening to the songs, and they are sometimes joined by children whose parents are part of the choir but don’t want to sing themselves and apparently have nowhere else to go. Sunghoon had been so excited at the prospect of having you come see him that he hadn’t thought of how boring this might be for you, sitting with sixty-year-olds for two hours, listening to an amateur choir go through scales and sing corny romance ballads—they’re rehearsing for a wedding they’ve been hired to sing at. But as the minutes go by, his worry dissipates when the delighted smile on your face hardly falters. He can’t imagine that his choir is that good, but you genuinely look like you’re having a nice time, and it makes Sunghoon stand a little taller, sing a little louder. Your eyes are on him for most of the time, and he blushes every time your gazes meet, but he still can’t keep himself from looking away from the conductor to check on you every few seconds.   

Once rehearsal is over, everyone gathers around the refreshments table. When you tell Sunghoon that he looked good out there, he stuffs his mouth with banana bread to stop himself from blurting out something stupid. Your cookies are a hit, and so is everything else—Sunghoon would be more than happy to watch you eat as many baked goods as you possibly can and chat with the grandmas, but he has something to ask you. Without thinking much, he wraps his fingers around your wrist, gently pulling you away from the table and towards him. The question that was at the tip of his tongue fades as soon as you meet his eyes, looking up at him like a deer caught in headlights, cheeks stuffed with brownie. You’re so cute that words fail him for a second, and when he notices the proximity between the two of you, takes a small, bashful step backwards. You glance at his hand still around your wrist, and he withdraws it like he’s suddenly been burned. 

A playful smile grows on your lips. “Everything alright?”

He scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. I just, um, well. There’s a bus that takes us from right across the street directly to the beach, if you’re, um, if you’re interested. In going. With me. If you want.”

Your eyebrows cock in surprise, and Sunghoon thinks he’s messed it all up. You shoot Minjeong a quick, worried glance, then seem to think for a second. But when you look back to him, your smile is soft. “That sounds nice.”

An hour later, you’re running around together on the beach—or rather, Sunghoon is running around, and after five minutes of watching him with a smile on your face, he’s convinced you to run around with him. You’ve both long discarded your shoes and socks, jeans scrunched up to your mid-calves, grins so wide, your cheeks start to hurt. The wet sand is hard under your feet and the water cold against your skin. Sunghoon’s t-shirt sticks everywhere you sprayed water on him, and he knows putting his shoes on later will be a whole ordeal, but it doesn’t bother him. Even the gray September sky feels brighter because you’re standing with him underneath it. 

The water-splashing battle quickly has you both out of breath, and Sunghoon is ready to call a truce when you spot something behind him, gasping and running towards it. He turns around to find you picking up a bunch of sandcastle-building toys that must’ve been left behind by some kids. “I haven’t built a sandcastle in such a long time, this is so exciting,” you say, excitement written all over your face. 

As much as he loves seeing the glint of childish amusement in your eyes, Sunghoon keeps looking around in case the owners of these toys might appear out of thin air. “I feel like there’s something immoral about this,” he says, and you stop stacking sand into one of the toys to look at him with a confused frown. “Aren’t we technically stealing from some kids?”

“Sunghoon. If those kids really cared about these plastic toys, they wouldn’t have left them here.”

“What if they come back for them?”

“Then we’ll give them back. We’re not monsters.” That’s all it takes for Sunghoon to give in. He helps dig trenches around the towers you build, carving out small windows on them and apologizing profusely when he accidentally pokes too hard into one of them, destroying half of it. 

The second he notices you shivering, Sunghoon is on his feet, unwrapping the scarf around his neck and laying it like a blanket over your shoulders. “I’m going to get us something warm to drink. I’ll be back in a minute!” he announces before you can even protest, and practically runs to the nearest café. 

He only leaves you and the slightly pathetic-looking sandcastle alone for a minute, quickly coming back with two take-away cups of milky Earl Grey tea and a brownie that he couldn’t help himself from buying. The moan you let out when you bite into it, gooey, sweet chocolate sticking to your teeth, goes straight down Sunghoon’s spine, but he tries not to let his thoughts get too carried away.

“Good, right?” he asks, laughing when you nod fervently. When you laugh too, it’s a sound so sweet, it rivals the decadence of the brownie. “I sometimes make the trip all the way here just for this.”

“I thought I’d be done with sweets after this morning, but this is so good.”

“Better than Berta’s banana bread?”

“Oh, a hundred percent,” you say, covering your mouth with your hand as you speak. “Sorry, Berta. I’ll be thinking about this for the rest of my life.”

Sunghoon hopes you’ll remember him as the boy who’d introduced you to those brownies, if nothing else.

The two of you are silent for a little bit, but it’s a comfortable silence—something Sunghoon didn’t know was possible with someone he’d just met. This was something he loved about the sea: it allowed for some quiet. The crashing of the waves against the shore, the calls of the seagulls, the dogs barking after them—it all meant he didn’t need to fill the space with needless chatter. He could look out at the peaceful water, you by his side, and just enjoy the moment.

“I’m still so amazed whenever I come to the beach, no matter how many times it’s been.” Sunghoon’s voice is quiet when he speaks, lower than usual. It sounds a lot more intimate than he means it to be. You turn your head to look at him, silently asking him to go on. There’s a small smile playing on his lips, a twinkle in his eyes as he watches the water. “The town I grew up in is right in the middle of the country, so the sea is like, a five-hour drive. There was a lake nearby, but it was nothing compared to this. It might sound silly, but being from somewhere where everyone knows each other, I never realized just how big the world was until I came here and saw the sea for the first time.”

“You’d never been to the sea before coming here?” you ask, surprise clear in your voice. 

He shakes his head. “My hometown isn’t far from the mountains, so it’s a huge tourist spot both in the winter and in the summer, which meant my mom had to work even when my sister and I were out of school and could actually go on holiday. We’d go visit my grandparents and aunts when we found the time, but that was it.” He meets your gaze, a smile playing on his lips at the thought of his hometown and his family. “This is the furthest I’ve ever been from home.” 

The corners of your lips raise into a smile too, matching Sunghoon’s. “And how has that been going?”

He sighs. “It’s okay. I miss my mom and sister like crazy, of course, but they FaceTime me so much that I barely notice it. And anyways, it’s also nice to be on my own. Discover another part of myself, and all that.”

“For sure.” 

There’s a slight shift in your expression that Sunghoon catches onto, a falter in your smile and a hint of sadness in your eyes. He doesn’t want to force a topic that you don’t want to talk about, so he just gently eggs you on, in case all you need is a small push.

“What about you? I think Jake mentioned you guys growing up around here, only an hour or so away.”

At the mention of your brother, the smile returns to your eyes. You take a deep breath and think for a bit, but eventually, you start talking. Although Sunghoon’s eyes are on you, you keep yours trained on the sea. “Yeah, we did. We live just up the coast, so we were always hanging out at the beach. In a way, it’s nice having the sea here as well. It’s like-I don’t know.”

“Like having a piece of home even when you’re away?”

Your gazes meet for just a second, the surprise clear in your eyes, but as quickly as it came, it’s gone, and you turn away from Sunghoon once more. “Basically, yeah.” A sardonic smile appears on your lips. “Although the constant reminder isn’t always appreciated.” 

He tilts his head. When you don’t say anything further, he flicks some sand onto your hand and asks you what you mean by that. He looks at you with curiosity and kindness only, eager to know more about you, to let you know that you can open up to him, that he won’t judge you, but careful not to overstep any boundaries either. It seems to work.

“It might sound stupid, but back home, the beach was a place I could go to when it all was a bit too much, you know? Like an escape from everyday life. Where I could forget about all of the pressure on my shoulders.” Sunghoon hums, and you take another deep breath. “I don’t know if you and Jake talk about this sort of thing, but… our parents are barely nice when we do well, and pretty awful when we don’t reach their expectations. So we were like, constantly having to outdo ourselves just for them to say, ‘Keep it up’, or something like that. And if we did something wrong, well…”

You trail off, but Sunghoon knows what you mean. “Yeah, Jake said they barely spoke to him anymore because he decided to play hockey instead of becoming, like, a doctor or something.”

You smile, but it’s humorless. “Yep. They send him money, and he comes home for a bit over Christmas and summer break, but that’s it. I’ve gone home by myself sometimes and they won’t even mention him, it’s insane.”

“He also doesn’t talk about it a lot.”

“I know. I’m always the one to bring it up. I know it’s a sensitive topic for him, obviously, but I still find it amazing how well he deals with it. But me… despite everything, I still need their approval, you know?” you ask, and Sunghoon nods.

“That makes sense.”

You sigh. “I guess. And I’m obviously not becoming a doctor like them. Not a medical one, at least. It took a year of convincing them that doing the degree I’m doing was okay. ‘Cause at the end of the day, it’s still me filling in my university applications, and they can’t actually force me to go to medical school, but I still wanted them to be proud of me. Even if I study languages.” It’s quiet for a few seconds as you both look out at the waves crashing against the shore. When you start talking again, you look down at the sand, picking it up and letting it filter through your fingers. “So, yeah. Jake got a scholarship here, and I didn’t wanna be too far from home, so here we are. We’re so close to home, the sea I went to when I needed a break in high school and the sea I go to now are one and the same. And now it reminds me of my parents rather than making me forget about them.”

“I’m sorry for bringing you here,” Sunghoon says. “I didn’t think…”

You cut him off with a smile. “It’s okay. Now I’ve created new memories. Nice ones. And you know… wherever I am, it’ll be at the back of my mind. It’s up to me whether I let it affect my life or not.”

“Letting go of these things is never easy,” Sunghoon offers. “You also can’t blame yourself if it does affect you sometimes.”

When you look at Sunghoon, your eyes darting back-and-forth between his like they’re searching for something there, he feels himself tense up slightly. He can’t read you at all, has no idea what you’re thinking even as you smile and say, “You’re right.” Even as you silently link your pinky with his, gazing down at your hands with a small smile. He hadn’t realized how cold his hands were until this small touch, so small yet able to spread warmth throughout his entire body. When he speaks, he can’t bring himself to meet your eyes—he’s still so focused on where your hands touch, too aware of the skin of your finger right against his. Such a small, innocent touch. He can’t even begin to understand why it means so much to him.

“For what it’s worth, I think what you’re doing is super cool,” he says. “I’ve always been so shit at foreign languages, let alone dead languages. And packing your bags and going abroad for a year, not everybody can do that. Becoming a doctor might be hard, but it also takes a specific kind of person to do what you do. And what Jake does. It’s all valuable.”

“Now, if you could say that again while I record you to show my parents, please,” you say, making him laugh.

“It’d be my pleasure.”

“What about you?” you ask him after a small pause. “I can’t be the only one who trauma-dumps on the first date.”

Sunghoon’s breath hitches in his throat. He hadn’t even dared entertain the thought that this might be more than a platonic hang-out in case he was crossing a line—but you’ve just called it a date. With just a few casual words, you’ve changed the entire meaning of the hours you’ve spent together. He hopes you can’t tell how flustered it’s made him.

“Well, there’s not much trauma to dump, really. Sorry.” 

You giggle. “Don’t apologize. That’s a good thing.”

Now that you’ve just opened up about your parents, Sunghoon is scared that telling you about how good of a childhood he had might come off as insensitive—but you smile softly at him, holding his hand face-up in yours, tracing the lines of his palm with the tip of a finger, and he starts talking. “So, it was just me, my older sister and my mom growing up. My dad died when I was 2.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It is a bit sad that I don’t have any memories of him, but everyone who knew him said he was a great guy. And my mom’s had this boyfriend since I was like, 10? He’s the one who got me to start hockey. So it hasn’t been that bad.”

“Your mom must be really strong.”

Sunghoon smiles. “She is. She’s amazing. To raise two kids on your own while grieving and not royally fuck up is… well, amazing. She’s always been so supportive of us, no matter what we wanted to do. My sister did well at school, but I wasn’t so good. I never really enjoyed it, but she’s never made me feel bad about it. She didn’t mind that all I wanted to do was hit a puck around.” 

“And you’re pretty good at hitting that puck around, aren’t you?”

“I’m not so bad,” Sunghoon says, chuckling along with you. He’s about to go on, but he is cut off by a raindrop hitting his hand, then another one; before either of you know it, your clothes are soaked through. Sunghoon takes his denim jacket off, using it as a makeshift umbrella for the both of you as you run towards the nearest awning, shaking with giddy laughter until you forget about the chilly rain and the clothes sticking to your skin. When it doesn’t let up for another few minutes, Sunghoon suggests catching the bus back, and you agree. 

The heating on the bus is set on low, but it’s enough to warm Sunghoon up as soon as he steps onto it. You sit at the back in a corner of your own, multiple rows away from the other people onboard. The two of you are relatively quiet, lost in your own thoughts until Sunghoon, after much internal deliberating, takes one of your hands in his and interlaces your fingers together. You look up at him, but he doesn’t return your gaze, eyes fixed on the window to hide his shy smile and the blush slowly staining his cheeks. To his surprise, you squeeze his hand and rest your head on his shoulder. He freezes for a second, unsure how to react to your reciprocated affection, but he makes himself relax into your touch, and starts brushing his thumb back-and-forth on the back of your hand. The sudden storm has made day turn to night a little earlier today, and with the quiet hum of the bus, he finds himself on the edge of sleep for the whole ride—the only thing keeping him awake is his booming heart.

The bus is nearing his stop when the buzz of his phone in his back pocket jolts him awake. You lift your head from his shoulder, massaging your neck as you fish your phone out of your own pocket. Sunghoon, more intrigued by you than by whoever has texted him, watches as the brightness of your screen makes you wince. Once you’ve read the text, you turn towards him, sleepy eyes and sleepy voice as you ask him whether he’s seen “this,” referring to a text from Chaewon. dinner at our flat tonight!!! come whenever. bring drinks. 

“Oh, I forgot she was doing that tonight,” you say through a yawn.

Sunghoon chuckles. “Do you have enough energy for it?”

“I always have enough energy for Chaewon’s cooking.”

You and Sunghoon make a pit-stop at a grocery store to buy two bottles of white wine and the hummus Chaewon likes, then head to your flat. Naturally, questions are asked when you and Sunghoon arrive at the exact same time, but before Sunghoon can explain that you spent the day together, Minjeong’s head pops out of the kitchen door, and she asks whether you ran into each other downstairs. Chaewon is only looking at the both of you, waiting for an answer, so she doesn’t see the very pointed look Minjeong gives you, as if to say Agree with me or else. You quickly glance at Sunghoon then say, “Yeah, we just arrived at the same time.” When they’ve both turned away, you tell him in a hushed tone that you’ll ask her about it later. 

The girls are busy in the small kitchen and Chaewon insists that they don’t need any more help, so you and Sunghoon bring two chairs by the kitchen door and sit as Yunjin catches the four of you up on the most recent drama in her Law cohort. Jay arrives twenty minutes later, but it isn’t another hour before Jake shows up with the excuse that he was taking a nap.

“Someone would think you don’t sleep at night, with the amount of naps you take,” you say.

“Oh my God, I miss when you weren’t here,” Jake replies, flicking your forehead before promptly plopping himself down on the couch. “I was so hungover when I woke up. I had to sleep it off,” he explains as he grabs four cans of beer from his backpack. 

Chaewon always makes a point to ask how everyone’s spent their day, but today, she unfortunately starts with Sunghoon, so he doesn’t have any time to come up with anything believable other than the truth, which is exactly what he does—and when Jay asks, What, to the beach by yourself? under Minjeong’s heavy gaze, he has no choice but to say yes. He isn’t sure why it’s such a big deal that you spent the day with him, or why it needs to be kept a secret, but there must be a reason. He’ll find out later. When it’s your turn, you look straight into Sunghoon’s eyes as you say you spent the day at the library but didn’t get much work done. Everyone ignores Jake when he exclaims Boring! and Chaewon swiftly moves onto Jay.

But you don’t. 

Your eyes stay on Sunghoon, unflinchingly watching him, expression unreadable, and he finds himself unable to look away, even as he feels his face heat up and his stomach flip. Then you smile, a satisfied smirk like you got what you wanted, and shift your gaze to Jay, who’s going on and on about the first six episodes of Lost he binge-watched earlier and wondering why nobody had told him about this “masterpiece of a show” before. Sunghoon is too busy thinking about the way you’d looked at him and pondering all the reasons for it to listen carefully. He watched Lost when he was fourteen anyway.

All throughout the evening, as the seven of you eat Chaewon’s pasta dish (which she made entirely from scratch, and is probably one of the best things to have ever graced Sunghoon’s taste buds), drink, talk, and afterwards, play card games, every glance between you and Sunghoon feels like a secret conversation that only the two of you are privy to. No one except for Minjeong is aware that you spent the day just the two of you until now—and even she doesn’t know what it is you did. Within a day of knowing each other, you already share memories that are yours and no one else’s. Sunghoon is giddy with the knowledge, heart skipping every time your eyes meet, no matter how fleetingly. When you’re all saying goodbye, it takes everything in him not to hug you for an awkwardly long time and to tear himself away from you. 

He can hardly fall asleep that night.

--

For the entirety of the year you were gone, Sunghoon could only nod and smile while the others bemoaned your absence or commented on how much more fun it’d be if you were here (even Jake, after enough wine spritzers, would admit to missing you). He understood that the group dynamics might feel different to them without you around, but this particular set of people was all he knew, so he never minded it. It reminded him of people telling him how sad it must’ve been growing up without a father, trying to be empathetic, when he didn’t know how he could miss something he never had. 

But now that you’re here, he gets it. You add something to the group that he can’t quite put his finger on. It’s in your affectionate gestures towards Chaewon and Yunjin, in your shared sense of humor with Jay (which no one else seems to find funny, save for Sunghoon, sometimes), in your bickering with Minjeong and downright arguing with Jake. It’s a hackneyed expression, but you do light up a room—at least in Sunghoon’s opinion, you do. In your presence, everything feels not only more lively, but also more cohesive, like you were the missing piece of a puzzle. Like a historic work of art that has been returned to its rightful owner. 

Sunghoon just finds himself drawn to you, at times unable to keep his eyes off of you, and the only things keeping him from making a move are his inherent shyness and the eyes of your friends. He doesn’t want to mess up the friendship he has with anyone from the group, least of all Jake, just because he can’t keep it in his pants. He thought of Yunjin and Chaewon, how their relationship had gone smoothly from the beginning and posed no problem to the dynamic of the group, but he had no idea if this was replicable between you and him at all.

If he had to be honest, a big part of him was also just afraid you’d reject him.

Getting a read on you is hard, which doesn’t help. It’s been three weeks since the gang reunited, since that party where you met. The first semester of his second and your fourth year started a little bit over a week ago; Sunghoon sometimes worries that you think there is some big age gap between you and that you see him as a kid, even though, admittedly, two years is not such a huge difference. In those three weeks, there have been many encounters which could be seen as cases of flirting between the two of you—Sunghoon has noticed every single one of them and replayed each an embarrassing amount of times in his head. A hand carefully posited on his shoulder; prolonged eye contact; jokes whispered in his ear at a crowded house party; knees lightly touching at first, then pressed together during movie night. None of it ever fails to make Sunghoon’s heart flutter. You could breathe in his general direction and it’d make his heart beat fast enough to worry a cardiologist, so when you smile at him, it’s a small death every time.

And so he dares hope that his interest isn’t one-sided—although most of the time, he is so stuck between thinking none of it means anything and thinking every single thing you do is a sign that you like him, that he rarely knows what to think. And whenever you’ve paid him enough attention to make him believe it’s not all in his head, you do something that proves him wrong. Watching you interact with other people, he realizes that you keep good eye contact with everyone and that you’re just as touchy and playful with all of your friends. At parties, you hit it off with new people and catch up with old friends without so much as a hint of awkwardness. He watches as you talk to other guys, the same smile that has been making him weak for the past three weeks, directed towards them and not him. Sunghoon assumes you’re either really nice to everyone and oblivious to the fact that it could be seen as flirting, or you just flirt with everyone. 

In that sense, the two of you are complete opposites. Sunghoon, whose entire friend group hangs on the fact that he befriended Jay, who knew Jake, who knew you, Minjeong, Yunjin and Chaewon. Sunghoon who has spoken to maybe half of his hockey team outside of the locker rooms and the occasional party. Sunghoon who, outside of his usual friend group, has managed to make three other friends on his own in the year he’s been at university, because they had been put in a group project and magically hit it off enough to upgrade from classmates to friends. 

Then there’s you, who has to stop every thirty seconds at a party to say hi to someone you know. You, who still keeps in touch with the friends you made in a foreign country, even those who spoke broken English. You, who didn’t make Sunghoon feel like his crippling shyness was a problem when you first met. 

He doesn’t understand how everyone who meets you doesn’t instantly fall in love. 

Or maybe they do, and he’s just one of many vying for your heart. 

Tonight is one of the nights where all he can do is watch from afar as you interact with another man that he desperately wishes was him. With your lower back against the kitchen counter, drink in hand as you laugh with that other guy, eyes never leaving his face, it almost looks like someone has copied your time with Sunghoon at the costume party and pasted it onto this post-hockey game party. All you’re missing is a bright pink cowgirl hat and boots to match.

And yet, it’s his team jacket over your shoulders, his name and number on your back. Sunghoon shouldn’t feel nearly as jealous as he does.

So he does what any good friend would do, and blames Jay for reasons completely unwarranted—even now, days after receiving his advice, and hours after taking it, Sunghoon still can’t help but regret involving him at all. 

Initially, Sunghoon hadn’t wanted to tell anyone about his growing feelings for you—he’d thought that if he pushed them away and kept them to himself, they’d go away on their own. But clearly, they didn’t, seeing as how his stomach always twisted in nervous excitement at the prospect of seeing you and how he could never get through a conversation with you without blushing. So, quicker than he’d like to admit, he’d given in and told Jay about the day you’d spent at the beach and how felt about you now, thinking it was some big shameful secret that would render his friend flabbergasted. 

That was his first mistake. 

Jay wasn’t impressed. “Yeah, it’s been pretty obvious, dude,” he’d said through a mouthful of cheeseburger. It was after hockey practice, and they were sitting in the burger joint near the ice rink that had some of the best student deals in town. Jake was going on a Hinge date, and Sunghoon had lured Jay in with the promise of free food (Jay wanted to go home and game, but all Sunghoon needed to do to convince him was to say “I’ll pay for it”). 

“Obvious? How obvious? Does everyone know? Does Jake know?” Sunghoon asked, growing more agitated by the second.

“Jake is possibly the worst room-reader that has ever lived, so no, I don’t think he’s caught on. But the rest of us know. I mean, you look at her like a twelve-year-old with a crush on his English teacher,” Jay said, unceremoniously cramming fries into his mouth.

Sunghoon ignored the slightly humiliating remark, still preoccupied by the fact that he hadn’t been as discreet as he thought he had. He leant in towards Jay and dropped his voice to a whisper, even though the restaurant was practically empty, save for them and a group of rowdy middle school boys who were definitely not paying attention to them. “Do you think… does she know?”

Jay dropped his fist on the table in sudden annoyance, causing Sunghoon to jump back in his seat. “Now you’re acting like a twelve-year-old.” Before Sunghoon could defend himself and argue that he’s being completely rational, Jay launches into a surprisingly moving monologue. “It’s fine if you like her, there’s nothing to be embarrassed of. Everybody feels attraction towards other people, everybody gets crushes, it’s no big deal. Just talk to her. Worst case scenario, she doesn’t feel the same way, and you both move on, because you’re adults.”

There’s nothing worse than a friend being right about something you absolutely don’t want to hear. Sunghoon did feel like he had been carrying a horrible secret around, but Jay was spot-on: crushes are a very common, very human experience. And yet Sunghoon managed to feel like he was the only one who had ever had to go through this torture. “You say that like it’s easy,” he said, sulking.

“It is easy. You’re making it hard.”

“So what, your advice is just to confess to her?”

Jay rolled his eyes. “See? You’re saying confess like it’s some sin you have to repent for. Yeah, just tell her.”

“Just tell her,” Sunghoon repeated, looking at his friend like he was crazy. Jay just took another bite of his burger.

“Yeah, dude. It’s not even like you’ve known each other for a long time, so there’s no risk of ruining a friendship, or anything.”

“But do you even know if she feels the same way at all?”

Jay shrugged. “She hasn’t mentioned anything,” he said, and Sunghoon’s heart dropped in disappointment. “But it’s Y/N, she’ll be cool about it. And who knows, she might actually see something in you, for some godforsaken reason.”

Jay laughed at his own joke, and Sunghoon afforded him a chuckle. They moved on to other topics, but later, as they waited for Jay’s bus to come, he couldn’t help himself. “Do you think Jake will mind? If something happens with Y/N and me?”

Jay thought for a second. “I think he’d be more upset with her than with you, what with everything that happened with Heeseung... But knowing him, he probably won’t care as long as you aren’t weird in front of him.” He puts a hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder and shakes it gently. “Don’t let that stop you from making a move, okay? You’ll cross that bridge when you get to it.” His bus came then, so Sunghoon couldn't ask for more details about this Heeseung situation—he knew that there had been something between you and him which hadn’t ended particularly well, but no one ever really talked about it so he didn’t dare bring it up. All he knew was that it had been significant enough for Jay to mention it now, and for Jake to seem bothered every time it was mentioned.

He put all of that out of his head for the time being. In a way, he had just received Jay’s blessing; even if it scared him shitless, he could make a move. Perhaps not something as straightforward as Jay was suggesting, but something, at the very least. 

The first major hockey game of the season was that coming Friday. Sunghoon had an idea.

The morning of, he shot you a text. He tried to make it sound as nonchalant as he can, so that you wouldn’t know he spent close to an hour deleting, writing and pouring over a singular sentence. Can you meet me in front of the locker rooms 30 mins before the game? 

That was his second mistake.

You replied twenty minutes later, twenty minutes that Sunghoon spent questioning everything that had led up to this moment.

yn.sim i’ll be there!!

You even got there five minutes early. He was waiting for you, all decked out in his hockey uniform, save for the gloves and protective headgear. He was anxiously chewing on gum, heart doing somersaults inside his ribcage—a grin found his lips as soon as you appeared around the corner, the sight of you alleviating his nerves for a second, then doubling them when you came close. “Hey,” he said, voice soft and slightly trembling.

“Hey,” you simply replied, a smile on your face to match his as he took you in his arms. It was a hug that lasted a second longer than it should, but that also ended too early for his liking.

“Um, I only have a second, Coach will be wanting to give one of his pep talks,” he said when you separated. One quick glance back at the locker room doors behind him, then back at you. The tips of his ears burnt, and he couldn’t stop his eyes from furtively darting between your face and the floor. But he’d come this far, so he couldn’t back out now. He just had to get it over with. “Here,” he blurted out, holding out the letterman jacket he had been hiding behind his back. You grabbed it, eyeing him with amused suspicion at first, but surprise spreaded over your features as you unfurled the jacket.

“Your team jacket?” 

He couldn’t tell whether you were amazed or horrified. You stared wide-eyed at the jacket, at its dark green sleeves, at the four letters of his last name and the huge number 8 embroidered onto the back. Your surprise faded back into what he thought — what he hoped — was excitement as you looked at him. He scratched the back of his neck, feeling his face flush red. “Yeah, I just, you know… It’s the first big game of the year, and I thought it’d bring me good luck if a pretty girl was wearing my name…” he explained, repeating the words he’d practiced over and over, voice turning into more and more of a mumble as he spoke. He had planned on speaking with more confidence, but now, the fact that he could speak at all felt like a miracle.

A light giggle spilled out of your mouth. Sunghoon immediately took it for mockery and regretted every decision that had led him here. “Sorry, it was a silly idea, you don’t have to wear it if you don’t like it,” he said, reaching for the jacket. But you were quicker than him, hugging the thick bundle of fabric to your chest as you now beamed at him.

“Are you kidding? I love it,” you said, shrugging off your jacket and replacing it with his.

First, relief flooded his body, then pride and excitement — as you spun around and showed the jacket off — at seeing his name on your back, and his attempt at making a move being successful. At least, he thought it was clear what he meant by giving you his jacket to wear at his game—he could only hope you understood. “Well… I’m glad.” Your eyes met, and you both chuckled softly, gazes holding each other’s for a second too long. 

Two weeks ago, Sunghoon still would’ve been able to convince himself this was a fluke; that this was just another one of his crushes that a gentle breeze could blow away. Because after all, when Sunghoon fell in love, it usually went as quickly as it came. But at that moment, in front of the locker rooms, his mind solely on you and not the opening game of the season, he realized this was something else entirely. And whatever it was, he hadn’t felt it in a good long while.

He was terrified—but infinitely excited, too.

“Okay, I should probably head back in now,” he forced himself to say, but made no move to go.

“Okay.”

He paused. “Will you be cheering me on?”

Your smile widened. “Of course.”

He nodded slowly, upper body starting to turn away but feet still firmly planted on the ground. “Okay.” 

Another second passed, and just as he was about to actually walk away, you grabbed his hand. Before he could compute what was happening, you lifted your head and pressed a small kiss to his cheek. His hand was still in yours when you took a step back, and for once, it was you who looked sheepishly at the floor. “For good luck,” you explained. He had no time to reply—you were already walking away, only looking back once to wave and shoo him in the direction of the locker room. He chuckled and nodded, but waited until you were out of sight to head back into the locker room.

Inside the locker room, everyone was too focused on getting their head in the game to notice his giddy smile. Your lips had been warm and soft against his cheeks, a welcome repeat of that time at the costume party, but the quickness of it all had only made him want more. From that very first night he’d met you, the question of how your lips would feel on his had scarcely left his mind. This brought him a step closer to getting an answer, but also made his curiosity grow tenfold.

Thankfully, by the time his coach gathered them around for a last minute pep talk, he’d managed to put the distracting thoughts of you out of his head, at least temporarily—he’d need to play well, for himself and his team mostly, but impressing you was also a priority. 

As the captain, Heeseung said a few words. He reminded the team of how important this match was and went over the main strategy points. For the time being, Sunghoon was able to forget about his arguably unfounded resentment against the older boy and whatever it was he had to do with you. This was not the time for jealousy over someone he had no right to feel jealous over. 

A few minutes later, his members and those of the opposing team poured out onto the rink for warm-up. Sunghoon searched the crowd for your face—when he found it, you were already smiling wide and waving at him. His heart did something funny, but Jay punched his shoulder pad and he remembered what he was there for. He could get lost in the eyes of a pretty girl later, specifically when he’d destroyed the other team and shown her how good of a hockey player he was.

Every now and then as he skirted around the rink and did his stretches, he stole glances at you. They didn't last long, because every single time, you’d already be looking, as if your eyes never strayed from him. Knowing you were watching made him nervous at first, but by the end of warm-up, mainly because he didn’t have much of a choice, he’d turned those nerves into an ever stronger will to do well.

The moment the referee blew the whistle, and for the hour that followed, Sunghoon was locked in on one thing and one thing only: winning. He was only competitive when it came to hockey—he didn’t care about dying in an online battle game or losing to Jake at beer pong, but once he was on the rink, he had to win. Pride surged through him and filled every crevice of his aching limbs whenever he or one of his team members scored, and the feeling that came with a victory, with hugging his teammates in celebration or hearing the crowd cheer for them, was like nothing else he’d ever known. The other side of that coin meant that any loss was a tremendous disappointment. Getting beat at an important game could put him in a week-long funk. His sister had once carefully hinted at his self-esteem relying too much on his hockey performance, and although his first reaction had been to dismiss her, he knew she had poked at some truth there. But what could he do—on particularly lonely nights, he truly thought hockey was all he had going for him. 

To his overthinking nature, becoming so single-minded the second the whistle blows was a relief, a break from the stress of daily life. He didn’t have to worry about his next deadline or about what the guys on the team thought of him or about the inevitable phone call to his mom asking for more money for groceries. It was respite from the thoughts surrounding you that plagued him: how you felt about him, how you might react knowing what he felt for you, how Jake might react. Why Minjeong hadn’t wanted you to say anything that evening, but why Jay had told him to just go for it. Heeseung, whom he had to respect as the captain and an undeniably talented player, but also as someone who had had something to do with you, whether good or bad. All of it had been wildly bustling around Sunghoon’s mind, but once on the rink, all he had to concern himself with was the puck and getting it in the opposing team’s goal. 

And Sunghoon did just that—he scored the first goal of the game, another one in the second period, then a third during the eleventh hour, breaking the tie between the two teams. He smiled right at you after each one, just to make sure you had seen everything. He couldn’t quite describe how it felt to see you clap and cheer for him, jumping up-and-down, forming a megaphone with your hands around your mouth and yelling, “Go Sunghoon!” all while you wore his jacket. It was a separate kind of pride and satisfaction from the sort he’d get seeing anyone else cheer him on, for sure. 

The other team put up a good fight, getting in a few goals of their own and protecting their side well, but in the end, thanks to Sunghoon’s goal, it was his team that won. He took his helmet off and got his hair ruffled by half of his team, then shook hands with the other team, trying to contain his boastful smile—some ice hockey players flew off the handle very quickly, and starting a fight was the last thing he wanted.

Kids and local fans huddled by the barriers on each side of the player’s tunnel to get an autograph or a picture. People around here were weirdly attached to their university sport teams, and the athletes on teams that did particularly well — namely football and rugby — were sort of local celebrities. Their ice hockey team wasn’t quite at that stage yet, but they were placing better nationally with every year, and so the local interest had grown. More kids had started signing up for lessons, and their parents often brought them to home games. As Sunghoon chatted with men twice his age and took selfies with ten-year-olds, he tried to find you in the crowd, to no avail. He’d been hoping for a thumbs-up from you for a game well played, or even a hug, but you were nowhere in sight.

It wasn’t until half-an-hour later, after saying bye to all the fans that had waited after the game for them, listening to Heeseung and their coach congratulate them (but also remind them to not take anything for granted), showering and changing, that he got to check his phone.

chaewon we going k-bbq! u guys played well see u later at da party!!!!

Disappointment only had a second to sink to the bottom of his stomach. He’d barely finished reading the text when he was hoisted up by the shoulders. Two of his senior teammates, Soobin and Beomgyu, marched him towards the exit. “We are getting you wasted tonight, Park,” Beomgyu announced, a wide grin on his lips.

“I have a good feeling about this season,” Soobin added. Sunghoon looked back to find Jay and Jake simply shrugging and laughing at him.

Indeed, the second they got to the dorm where tonight’s party would be taking place, a beer was thrusted in his hand. It was only 7 p.m., still light outside, but that didn’t stop the team nor their friends that had come to the game. They sipped beer like it was water, so much so that two hours later, when the party started to grow, Sunghoon was already quite inebriated. It didn’t help that his cup was never empty for too long, and that he had the reassurance of being in his own dorm—it was the closest student building to the ice rink, and so was one of the prime spots for hockey parties. He could get as drunk as he wanted — or as Beomgyu wanted — and still get home in less than a minute. 

He somehow ended up in the corridor, part of a nonsensical conversation about candle-making with two guys he had recognized from one of his Phys Ed classes but could not for the life of him remember the names of. One had shared that candle-making was a big hobby of his, and it had made Sunghoon and the other unknown man lose their minds—Sunghoon had never realized how curious about candle-making he was, but he couldn’t stop asking questions. It sounded great. Maybe he’d have to pick up candle-making, too. 

Eventually, he headed back to the kitchen for a new drink. For the nth time this evening, he thought of texting you, then immediately thought against it. He wanted to know when you’d get here, but he didn’t want you to know that he wanted to know—although as the night deepened and his intoxication rose, he could remember less and less why that would be such a bad thing. He stepped into the kitchen, and going from the brightly-lit corridor to the dark kitchen with flashing neon lights made him so dizzy that he made a beeline for the couch, needing to sit down for a second.

And that was when he saw you.

Lower back against the counter, talking with a guy he’s never seen in his life. You look like you’re having fun—smiling, laughing, keeping eye contact with that guy. You’re still wearing his jacket. It should probably reassure him—his name is literally on you, what does it matter that you’re speaking to someone else? But instead, all he can think is that wearing his jacket must mean nothing to you. What was basically a confession from him seems to have fallen on deaf ears.

His friends’ words over the past year come back to him—how much you flirt with people, how it wasn’t a rare occurrence for you to go home with a guy after a party and never speak of him ever again. Was this what was happening here?

He knows it’s unreasonable, but in his drunken state, he takes it as a betrayal. Like he can’t believe you haven’t read his mind, figured out how he felt about you, and decided to give special attention to him and him only. He’s only able to take it for so long—two minutes later, he trudges out of the room, walking right past you but not looking your way.

His new mission is to find his friends, but before he’s done much searching, he hears his name being called out. Of course, he recognizes your voice immediately, but he doesn’t quite believe it until he looks over his shoulder, and there you are, face glowing and smiling wide. You’ve clearly had a few drinks, but he likes to think you’d be just as happy to see him if you were sober. He turns around to face you, watching as you narrow the distance between the two of you. He’s not in a much better state—the simple thought that you had come after him makes him forget any sort of resentment he held against you a second ago. When you reach him, he holds on to one of your arms, as much an effort to stabilize his swaying body as an excuse to touch you.

“Hey,” he simply says. He’s always at a loss for words around you, so scared he’ll say the wrong thing that he ends up barely speaking at all. He’s only sober enough to know that with all the cheap beer and vodka running through his blood, his odds of making a fool of himself are even bigger. 

“Hey. I was wondering where you were.” 

“You’re the one who came late.”

“I know!” you exclaim. “I wanted to come right away, but Chaewon was hell-bent on getting her Korean barbecue.”

“She does get cranky when she hasn’t had pork belly in a while.” Sunghoon feels like he’s just won the Nobel Prize when you let out a laugh. “Was the food good at least?”

“It was amazing. So worth getting here late,” you joke.

He rolls his eyes playfully. “I see how it is.” Then, before he can stop himself, he adds, “Then we should go there together next time.” 

Your smile changes, turning from cheerful to surprised, but amused—almost mischievous. You take a step forward. Sunghoon gulps; the gap between the two of you was narrow to begin with. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

Usually, this type of straight-forwardness would have him stuttering, but drunk Sunghoon is a man sober Sunghoon barely recognizes in the morning. “Yeah. I am. Is that okay?”

You nod. “Mh-hm.”

“Nice. Okay.” For a second, you just look at each other. Another thing about drunk Sunghoon: he doesn’t feel like prolonged eye contact will make him spontaneously combust. He actually quite enjoys it. He also stumbles, even when all he’s doing is trying to stand straight. “You’re still wearing my jacket,” he eventually says, reaching out to take the end of your sleeve between his fingers.

You stretch out your arms and appraise the team jacket as if you only remembered you had it on. “Yeah. It’s comfy.”

“It looks good. You look good.”

“You’re not quite sober, are you?” you ask suddenly. 

“Is it that obvious?” When you nod, he giggles, lowering his head in defeat. “The guys made me drink so much.”

“You did score three goals after all. And you looked good doing it.”

At the praise, he stands up to his full height and places his palms behind his head in a victorious pose. “I did, didn’t I?” he says, looking off in the distance with a self-assured look that makes you burst into laughter. He drops the confident facade and laughs along with you, until somebody bumps into him and sends him stumbling forwards. If you weren’t standing there to catch him, he’d probably have fallen flat on his face. But even though he doesn’t fall, he feels all the alcohol catching up to him and threatening to come right back out where it came from. You hold him for a second, and just as you ask him if he’s okay, he says, “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

You sigh. “Okay. Where’s your room?” 

Arm under his shoulders, you let Sunghoon lean most of his weight on you as you guide him towards the elevator. It’s just one floor, but you said you didn’t want to risk the stairs with him. “Hey, who was that guy with you in the kitchen? That guy in the striped shirt? You guys seemed real chummy back there…” he mumbles as you help him out of the elevator. Even on the verge of sickness, Sunghoon is preoccupied by more important things.

“Oh, that was Jaemin.”

“Jaemin,” he echoes, more venom in his voice than needed.

You look at him, taking in his disgruntled expression, and chuckle. “Yeah, he’s having some problems with his boyfriend. He asked me for advice.”

Sunghoon almost freezes in his tracks, but you’re there to keep him walking towards his room. “Oh. He has a boyfriend.”

“Yeah…” He can tell you want to tease him about it, but thankfully, you say nothing. He’s made it clear he had gotten jealous of your gay friend—no need to spell it out in so many words. Once you reach his studio (which he’d stupidly left unlocked), he heads straight for the bathroom, locking himself in, half out of embarrassment, half because he really doesn’t want you to see him throw up. Talk about a turn-off. He leans over the toilet bowl, waiting for the vomit to rise, but nothing comes. He waits, and waits, mind completely empty, head spinning even though he’s sitting very still, when suddenly a knock on the door pulls him out of his stupor.

“Sunghoon? It’s been ten minutes. Everything okay?”

He doesn’t say anything, just unlocks the door for you. Without realizing, he fell asleep like a bored teenager in math class. “All right,” he hears you say.

He’s surprised you’re able to carry him out of the bathroom—if he was a deadweight before, by now, rigor mortis has practically set in. Despite his small student room, crossing it takes you an entire minute, and when you reach his bed, you all but let him flop on the mattress. He doesn’t mind. As soon as his body hits the bed, he feels quite snug, curling against his blanket. You start to unbutton his shirt, probably just thinking he’s already fallen asleep and wanting to make him more comfortable, but your fingers freeze when he starts giggling. Shoulders shaking with unbridled laughter, he feels as delighted as a five-year-old who just said a naughty word and made all his drunk relatives laugh at the family dinner. 

“I know I looked really hot tonight, but can we wait until I’m sober?” he asks, slurring his words slightly and keeping his eyes shut, despite the shit-eating smirk on his lips. You hit him on the chest but it just makes him laugh more.

“Bold of you to assume I’d still hit when I’ve just had to peel you off your toilet seat.” He lets you finish helping him out of his button-down. 

“Wouldn’t you?” he asks. He tries to look at you, but his eyes don’t quite open all the way, and they don’t focus properly, due to a strong mix of alcohol and inappropriate thoughts. Of you, specifically. His body feels suddenly very heavy, his want for you weighing him down into the mattress. The room is dark, your face illuminated only by the light in the bathroom and the glow of the street lights outside. You always look pretty, but your beauty is especially breath-taking right now, Sunghoon thinks. He wants to reach out and touch your face, wants to trace your jawline and know what your skin would feel like against his fingers. He doesn’t realize he’s actually doing it until he hears you inhale shakily.

The expression in your eyes is unreadable, and quickly gone, replaced by an annoyed squint. You grab his wrist gently, setting it back down next to him. “I’m gonna make you some ramen. You need to sober up, and you haven’t had dinner, have you?”

Sunghoon shakes his head. He feels rejected, and it makes him inordinately sad.

For five minutes, he watches as you rummage around his cupboards for a pack of ramen, fill a pot with water and bring it to a boil. His thoughts float back to your day at the beach, memories that he’s preciously held onto for the past few weeks. You running around on the sand, opening yourself up to him and letting him open himself up to you, holding his hand on the bus. That day, he’d really thought it would be the beginning of something new; but as time passed, he became less and less sure of himself. He’s scared it might’ve just been a fluke, and that he’d have to destroy the castle he’d built in his head. He’s seen you almost every day since, but it’s never been the same. And even if your eyes met unexpectedly sometimes, or if you went out of your way to sit next to him during movie nights, he can’t let himself go on with so few signs. Jay was right—he had to be clear about his feelings, otherwise this would go on forever. Even if it didn’t feel like it, the Earth would continue spinning on its axis if you didn’t reciprocate.

“I’ve missed you.”

You pause in your movements. “Missed me? But we’ve seen each other every day,” you say after a few seconds, still facing away from him. Your voice is softer than he’s heard it before, almost unsure of itself.

“No,” Sunghoon whines, frowning. He can barely keep his eyes open—he wishes you could read his mind so he wouldn’t have to explain, but alas. “I miss you—the you from the beach. When it was just me and you. It’s not the same with the others around.”

Silence falls over the room again. Sunghoon wonders if you’re just going to ignore what he said, until you take a deep breath, and walk back to his bed. You crouch in front of him and take both of his hands in yours. Electricity flows from where your hands touch to the rest of his body. He suddenly feels a lot more awake.

“It’s just the two of us now,” you whisper. 

Sunghoon nods. “I know. It’s nice.”

You smile. It might be the alcohol playing tricks on him, but Sunghoon swears there’s a hint of sadness in your eyes. One of your hands comes up to his hair. You thread your fingers gently through it, pushing it away from his forehead, then bring your hand down to the side of his face, your palm cupping it tenderly. Sunghoon lets himself lean into your warm touch. With his eyes closed, the darkness surrounding him makes this feel like a dream—he basks in the moment so as not to let a second of it go to waste.

“Do you wanna do something just us two this week?” you ask softly. His eyes shoot open—he needs to be sure this is really happening. He nods again, fervently this time, and it makes you chuckle. “Okay.”

“Just us two?” 

“Just us two.”

He relaxes once more. He guides your hand towards his mouth and presses his lips against your palm. Something shifts in your eyes—Sunghoon thinks the opportunity to finally kiss you has arisen, but as soon as his gaze drops to your lips, you’re back on your feet. “Let’s eat some ramen, shall we?” you ask as you head back towards the kitchen. Sunghoon tries his best (and probably fails) to not let his disappointment show.

There’s no dining table to speak of, only a low table near Sunghoon’s bed, on which you set down a wooden board and the steaming pot of spicy noodles. You hand him a pair of chopsticks and a spoon, and tell him to eat. Neither of you say much for a while, and Sunghoon grows redder and redder under your watchful gaze. He asks if you want any a few times, but you always turn him down. The silence quickly gets a little too unbearable for him, and he’s got a question burning the tip of his tongue anyway. Now’s as good a time as ever to ask it.

“Something’s been bugging me recently, actually…” You wait for him to go on. “So, at the costume party, right?” You nod. “You said there was only one person you wanted to kiss… Did you mean me?”

You tilt your head, looking at him like you’re trying to figure out whether he’s joking or not. “Yeah, Sunghoon… I meant you. Who else?”

He’s only half-relieved. “So why won’t you kiss me now?”

To his surprise, you smile. “Because you’re drunk.”

Confusion fogs Sunghoon’s brain. Is that all you’re worried about? Is his blood alcohol level the only thing stopping you from kissing him? “But I-I’m fine. I give you consent to kiss me, Y/N.” He’s dead serious, so when you laugh, it only frustrates him further.

“Finish your food, Sunghoon. We’ll see about kissing later.”

He sighs. Later he could deal with. “Fine. But I’ll hold you to it, okay?” he says, pointing a menacing chopstick at you.

“Okay.”

But Sunghoon can’t keep quiet for long—ten seconds later, he’s remembered another question he’s been dying to ask. He continues drinking his soup in an attempt to appear nonchalant. “So what happened between you and Heeseung?”

The question takes you so off-guard, you look like you would’ve done a spit-take had you been drinking water. “That’s-you know about that?”

“Well, not much, that’s why I’m asking.”

You scoff. “Why do you want to know? It’s boring.”

At those words, Sunghoon whips his head up to look at you. “It’s not boring!” he exclaims, perhaps a tad too vigorously. “Anything that has to do with you is interesting to me.”

Finally, the corners of your lips rise. Sunghoon hated the ten seconds in which you weren’t smiling. “Well, there isn’t much to say, anyway. We had a thing when we were in second year, I caught feelings and wanted more, and he didn’t. The end.”

Sunghoon freezes, staring at you with his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth agape. He then sets his cutlery down neatly next to the pot of ramen and clasps his hands together like he’s in a business meeting. “So you’re telling me that he had the opportunity to make you his girlfriend and he just… didn’t?”

You shrug. “Basically, yeah.”

He hits the bedsheets next to him, huffing out in annoyance. “What an idiot.”

“He sure is,” you say. You smile to yourself as you grab Sunghoon’s spoon and try some of the broth. He wonders whether anything lies behind that smile. “But it happened a while ago. Don’t be weird with him on my account. He’s still your captain.”

Sunghoon thinks for a second. “Can I side-eye him once in a while? Or not pass him the puck during practice?”

“Sure,” you reply, laughing. You swiftly move on to other topics as Sunghoon slurps the last of his noodles, asking him about the beginning of the party and just how much his teammates made him drink. He’s recounting the shot contest they held, which Mark won with an impressive seven shots of tequila in a row — Sunghoon hopes the boy is okay now — when your phones buzz at the same time. Minjeong’s name appears on your screen, Jay’s on his, both asking where you are.

“Should we head back now?” you offer, although Sunghoon, wishfully perhaps, detects a trace of reluctance in your voice. “You look like you’ve sobered up a bit, seeing as you’re able to string more than two sentences together.”

“I wasn’t that bad!”

“I should’ve filmed you.”

It’s one a.m. when you head back down, and the party is in full swing. Pop music blasts through someone’s JBL speaker in the shared kitchen, the hallways are more crowded than the subway at rush hour, just as full of hockey fans celebrating their team’s win as students who just wanted an excuse to party, and every window is open to alleviate some of the stuffiness. They probably have another hour left before the dorm residents who decided not to join in the festivities call campus police on them.

Sunghoon is relieved to find that Jake is off with other team members, reaching levels of drunkenness that will most definitely be regretted in the morning. Technically, he hasn’t done anything wrong—he simply let you nurse him back to sobriety after he almost regurgitated his pre-game protein bar and three beers all over your nice shirt. Chaewon and Yunjin are busy making out in a corner, their lack of decorum only increasing when they’ve been drinking, but Jay and Minjeong eye you suspiciously upon seeing the two of you arrive together. You explain what happened so casually that they don’t question it any further.

Chaewon and Yunjin only tear themselves off of each other when a Beyoncé song starts playing, and they drag all four of you to the makeshift dancefloor, which is really just three meters away in the middle of the kitchen. Sunghoon is practically all sobered up by now, but he’s loosened up enough not to feel self-conscious with every step he takes; the fact that you look so happy, dancing with him and laughing at his silly moves, is a considerable bonus. He won’t drink any more, not wanting to risk embarrassing himself further in front of you, and Jay, as the group’s self-proclaimed health guru, probably had his last beer around nine p.m., but the girls, each of them with a cup of suspicious transparent liquid in hand, are getting drunker by the minute—and so is Jake, who has now joined you all on the dancefloor, if his inability to stand straight is anything to go by. Sunghoon assumes you’re also done with alcohol for the night, until you turn to him in the middle of a song no one has heard since 2015 and tell him you’re going to get a drink.

“Okay!” he simply answers, and for a good thirty seconds, basks in the blissful satisfaction of knowing he was the one you informed of your whereabouts. That is, until he realizes a minute later that it was probably a covert invitation for him to come along, which he totally missed. But when he looks over at the counter where all the drinks are, his heart drops—Heeseung is standing in front of you, pouring gin and lemonade into your cup. A flurry of emotions course through Sunghoon, emotions he has no idea what to do with, because he’s not sure they’re entirely warranted. He’s angry that Heeseung is talking to you, after what he did, confused that you’d let him; but mostly, he’s jealous. But he knows it’s only because he has no guarantee that you like him, and that you won’t go off with Heeseung, despite having just talked about how you were over him.

Wait—is that really what you said? You told Sunghoon that what happened with Heeseung didn’t bother you anymore, which doesn’t necessarily mean you wouldn’t go back to him, given the chance. 

Before he can think it over a second time, Sunghoon heads over to where you and Heeseung stand. He places himself right behind you, reaching for a bottle of Coke on your side and pouring himself a drink.

“Oh, hey, Hoon,” his team captain says, clearly surprised to see him there and looking so discontented. Sunghoon can’t remember whether they’ve ever been close enough for Heeseung to call him by his nickname. “Having fun?”

“Yep,” he curtly replies, avoiding eye contact with either of you and looking out at the crowd of party-goers instead. He can feel your gaze, heavy on his face, can see the knowing smirk slowly rising on your lips. How was it that you could see right through him so easily?

“Too much dancing made you thirsty?” you ask, taking a drink from your cup and hiding your smile behind it.

He glares at you, more annoyed that his attempt at subtly sussing out what you and Heeseung were doing together was shut down so quickly than anything else. “Yep,” he repeats.

“You guys know each other?” the older boy asks, eyes darting between the two of you.

“Jake introduced us,” Sunghoon quickly answers. To his surprise, this makes Heeseung chuckle.

“Jay, Sunghoon, me… Wow, do you meet all your friends through your brother, Y/N?” he asks jokingly. Immediately, so many alarm bells ring in Sunghoon’s head—the implication that you and Heeseung are friends, the fact that he put himself and Sunghoon in the same bag, and above all, that teasing, almost flirtatious tone of his. 

He’s horrified to find you rolling your eyes playfully and saying, “I have other friends, thanks,” in a tone far too similar. At that moment, Minjeong starts yelling about how much she loves everyone in this room but particularly “you guys,” pointing to Jake, Jay, Minjeong and Chaewon, and “you guys, too!” screaming over the music as she points to you and Sunghoon.

“There’s one of them,” you say, half-amused, half-exasperated. “We should probably go check on her. See you around, Heeseung.”

“Right. See you, Y/N. Sunghoon.” 

Back to no-nickname basis, apparently.

Your group’s indicator of when it’s time to go home is when Minjeong starts one of her “I-love-my-friends-so-much” rants—if she’s that drunk, everyone else must be wasted. Indeed, Chaewon and Yunjin are holding onto each other to keep themselves from falling down, and Jake is unable to keep his head up. You, Sunghoon and Jay herd your friends outside and wait for Jake’s Uber, making sure to get him safely inside and to tip the driver generously for his pains. Jay lives nearby yours and the girls’ flat, and Sunghoon, ever the gentleman, walks you all home.

“Just ‘cause you and Jay might need a hand getting these three home,” he tells you. Yunjin, Chaewon and Minjeong are currently running around on the road, pointing and laughing at random shop names, and Jay is yelling at them to get back on the sidewalk.

“Mh-hm.”

“And it’ll be good to completely sober up before going to bed.”

“Right.”

There’s no use putting up a front with you—he’s an open book and you’re an avid reader. You don’t need to say anything to make it clear that you know it’s just an excuse to spend more time with you.

“You know, I told you not to be weird with Heeseung,” you say, gently punching him in the arm.

“Was I weird?” he asks, knowing fully well he hadn’t acted at all like he usually did around his captain. 

“You basically only spoke to let Heeseung know we’re friends. You were making yourself all tall and looking mysteriously out into the distance instead of at us.”

“But I am tall and mysterious,” he says, pride coursing through him as it always does when you laugh at one of his jokes.

“You’re probably the least mysterious person I know, Hoon.”

Hoon. How much sweeter that name sounds coming from you over anyone else.

“So you agree that I’m tall?”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a grin on your face. A win is a win. “That’s just a fact.”

Sunghoon smiles victoriously. “I’ll take a fact. But I’m sorry if I was acting weird… I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t bothering you.”

“Heeseung is always bothering me,” you say with a sigh. “He comes up to me like this at every party. He’s just asking how I’ve been, but it’s like he’s sussing out whether or not he’s still got a chance.”

“Do you need me to beat him up? Threaten him? Dox him?”

Even though Sunghoon was only half-joking, you burst out laughing, hard enough for Minjeong to whip around and shout, “What are you laughing about?” as if you had offended her personally. At least Jay is there to make her turn around and focus on walking straight.

“I appreciate the offer, but that won’t be needed. I just don’t like talking about it, ‘cause it’s really not that big a deal anymore. It feels like digging up old bones, you know?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “I’d commit grave robbery with you.”

“You-what?”

“Nevermind. We obviously don’t have to talk about it, but I’m curious.”

You sigh. “I guess it’d make sense for you to know about this.” Sunghoon thinks he sees something like panic flash across your features, but it’s so quick and such a rare expression on you that he’s not sure whether he just imagined it. “You know-just ‘cause everyone else is aware of it, and everything,” you quickly explain.

“Sure.”

“I just… I’m sure Heeseung is a nice guy when it comes to other things, but what the girls and I have concluded is that he’s a bit of an attention whore, you know. When it comes to girls. We fooled around for a while, and he never made it official, even when I made it pretty clear that that was what I wanted. But every time we saw each other after that, he’d flirt with me like nothing had happened. I fell for it at first and flirted back, thinking he had changed his mind… but he really just wanted to make sure I was still into him.”

“Looking for validation,” Sunghoon says.

“Exactly. And when I realized that, I stopped giving it to him. I was getting tired of him anyway, saying the same thing every time. But now, I entertain him for a couple of minutes before I walk away. I shut him down before he gets a chance to do it to me.”

“That’s smart.”

“I know,” you say, smiling. “I understand the need for validation, but he won’t be getting any from me.”

Jay bravely handles the three drunkards the whole way home, letting you and Sunghoon hang behind and carry on talking. You reach the boy’s apartment first, and yours five minutes later. But when you reach your front door, Minjeong announces she needs to talk to Sunghoon. “Privately,” she emphasizes.

You give Sunghoon an amused look and shrug as if to say “She’s your problem now.” He doesn’t have time to protest before you’ve bid him goodnight and disappeared behind the door, Yunjin and Chaewon in tow, yelling good night at Sunghoon like they’re not going to see him for months. 

Minjeong places her palms flat onto Sunghoon’s torso and looks right at him—to the best of her ability, at least, considering she’s having a hard time focusing her eyes. “Sunghoon,” she says gravely.

“Minjeong?”

“Listen, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you,” she says, slurring her words. “You know I love Y/N, she’s amazing…”

“Yeah, she is,” Sunghoon says firmly—already, he can tell where this is going, and he doesn’t like it.

“But she’s not the best with relationships.”

“What do you mean?”

Minjeong’s hands drop by her sides and she exhales deeply. “I’ve just never seen her in a committed relationship in the-in the almost four years I’ve known her. She never lets things get serious. She’s just so afraid of being hurt, Hoon, and I-” 

A hiccup escapes Minjeong’s lips as tears start pooling in her eyes. Sunghoon has only ever seen Minjeong cry when drunk—even movies that had him sobbing barely made her eyes water. Even if she isn’t in her right state of mind, he knows it means this must be important to her. He holds her arms and tries to put on the most reassuring tone he can. “But I wouldn’t hurt her.”

“No, I know that. I’m scared you’d get hurt. I don’t want things to become weird between all of us.”

Sunghoon shakes his head. “Minjeong, what-that wouldn’t happen.”

“But it will!” she exclaimed. “If something happens with you and her, and it doesn’t work out the way you want it to, it’ll make things awkward-”

“If that happens,” he interrupts, “I’ll deal with it. I won’t make it your guys’ problem. Y/N and I are adults, okay?”

“You’re like, nineteen…”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t worry about it, okay? It’ll be fine.” He takes a step back and opens the door for her to get in. 

She’s only on the first stair when she turns back around. “But, Hoon-” she tries, though he cuts her off.

“Minjeong, I promise-”

“Just don’t rush into anything, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Go inside.” 

She complies, giving him one last look before climbing the stairs to her apartment. Sunghoon closes the door behind her, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.

--

Sunghoon is on his way home from hockey practice when his phone buzzes with a text from you.

yn are you still up for doing something this week?

He almost throws his phone in the air in celebration, as if it was a graduation cap. His Sunday was spent going back-and-forth between lapidating himself for his drunken stupidity, memories, rough as stones, hitting him in the face every time he thought of what he said and how he acted, and congratulating himself for having finally made his feelings for you somewhat clearer. Hopefully, you now know he isn’t just awkward and silent around new people—well, he is, but it’s worse with you.

She never lets things get serious.

Minjeong’s warnings echo in his head as he types a positive — although not over-enthusiastic, ‘cause that’d be uncool — answer, but he dismisses them easily. Perhaps he shouldn’t; Sunghoon is, after all, incredibly serious about any and all romantic encounters. The girl at the grocery store who reached for the same red bell pepper as him was the most serious thing to him in the world for a good ten minutes; all of his school crushes were of utmost importance to him, however long they had lasted.

So this? This is capital-s Serious. But therein lies the problem; he’s so serious about you that he’d let you not make it serious. If Minjeong is right, and you’re not planning on taking this nearly as far as he wishes for it to go, he can already tell he’ll just let you. He’ll probably be happy you wanted anything to do with him at all. 

He has ways of reassuring himself, of convincing himself he isn’t a totally lost cause. Because when Sunghoon falls in love — and he had an inkling this was what this was — it usually goes as quickly as it came. Who’s to say this time next week he won’t have completely moved on? Maybe this date that he’s agreed to will go horribly wrong, you’ll be rude to the waiter, you’ll spill tomato sauce all over your shirt, and the flame in his heart will be put out. Easy as that.

You decide to meet on Wednesday evening, two days from now. Sunghoon suggests a Japanese restaurant he likes, a place he had gone to with his mom and sister when they had dropped him off at university before his first year, and that he knows is nice enough for a date but won’t burn a hole through his wallet.

Seeing you at the library the day before is a real thrill. Nobody but you knows of your plans—at least not until he caves in and tells Jay about it, who congratulates him with a roll of his eyes and a pat on the head. All of your eye contact feels loaded with the kind of complicity that comes with sharing a secret. As much as he would love boasting about it to every soul who’d listen, this secrecy electrifies him—it binds the two of you with something much more real than before. At least, more real than Sunghoon’s imagination and one-sided feelings. He knows that your text wasn’t in any way a confession of your own feelings for him, but it’s a step in the right direction.

In the few hours before your reservation at seven p.m., Sunghoon spends so much time thinking about the date that he’s almost late for it. He thinks about his expectations, then tries to get rid of them; he comes up with ideas of what your expectations might be, remembers Minjeong’s words, dismisses them, remembers them again; he goes through scenarios upon scenarios of everything that might go wrong and everything that might go spectacularly well. He ends up with less than twenty minutes to get ready, but manages to arrive at the restaurant a minute before you.

When he sees you approaching, Sunghoon feels like one of those boys in Disney movies as they watch their girlfriend coming down the stairs in her prom dress. You’re not wearing an over-the-top poofy purple dress, but the effect is the same—his eyes are glued on you with every step you take towards him.

You grab him by the arm and lead him into the restaurant as soon as you reach him. He’s too busy taking in your appearance to be bothered by it. “Don’t look at me like that,” you chide as you wait for waiting staff to seat you. He’d actually think you were mad at him if it wasn’t for the small smile playing on your lips.

“Like what?”

“Like what you’re doing right now! You’re staring.”

Realization slowly dawns on him; your gazes have made him lose his composure too many times for him not to know what being flustered looks like. He’d be lying if the fact that it was you in this tight spot and not him didn’t heavily stroke his ego. 

“Why wouldn’t I? You look beautiful,” he says, dropping his voice to a whisper so that the approaching waitress can’t hear. Her presence saves you from responding verbally, but as she brings you to your table, you pinch his arm lightly as if to say Be on your best behavior—although Sunghoon would argue this was his best behavior.

You have trouble making up your mind about the food—you want to try everything on the menu. Sunghoon tentatively offers to order a bunch of dishes and share them. “It’s what my family always does at the restaurant, just try as much as you want and take the leftovers to go. We never ate out very often because my mom would spend so much money every time,” he recollects, smiling fondly.

“That actually sounds like a dream. My parents would never do that. It was always just eat what you got, but I’m unable to look at someone else’s food and not want to try it. It honestly should just be common practice to share dishes at the restaurant.”

Sunghoon thinks he could get down on one knee right then and there. Whenever they went out to eat, the boys would roll his eyes at him when he stole bites of their food. But you—you’re like him. He knows he’s prone to over-exaggeration, but he can’t help but feel like if you understand each other on this, you must understand each other at a molecular level.

He had expected a level of awkwardness to your date, at least at the beginning — God knows the moments in which he doesn’t feel like a mumbling fool in front of you are few and far between — but to his surprise, everything goes smoothly. There is no uncomfortable silence, all his jokes miraculously land, even the lousy ones, and you both laugh and talk and share sushi and pork cutlets like it’s the most natural thing in the world, which perhaps it is. His attempts at flirting are well-received and he only turns violently red twice when you compliment him and smile at him in a particularly pretty way.

It’s that day at the beach all over again. Always on the same page, you dip in and out of topics with a synergy he has rarely felt before. Sunghoon realizes it must be the presence of others, rather than you yourself, that makes him feel like he can’t act the way he wants to around you, makes him so nervous. Save for the moments where you make his heart flutter like a thousand butterflies’ wings, he actually feels quite at ease with you, all things considered. Of course, he still tries — and fails — to look cool for you, but he knows it comes from a place within himself rather than because you make him feel as though he has to meet a certain standard. Surprisingly, he can be totally himself, and it seems to be enough for you.

He loves his friends. He wouldn’t trade them for the world. But he’s not sure he won’t have moments where he’ll wish nothing more than for them all to go away and leave the two of you be.

You eat until you can’t anymore and are still left with enough food for another full meal. You only let him get the bill once he’s promised that next time will be on you. If it means there’ll be a next time, he’s more than happy with making that promise. The sun has set when you exit the restaurant. Sunghoon shivers as he steps outside, the temperature having gone down by at least four degrees in the last two hours.

You grab his hand; it warms him right up.

Your apartment is a thirty-minute bus ride away, but Sunghoon offers to walk you home. Anything to spend more time with you.

He spends the first few minutes of the walk worrying about his hand, whether it’s too clammy, whether it’s holding yours right, but he eventually relaxes into the touch. When a particularly chilly gust of wind blows, you drop his hand and hold onto his arm instead, inching closer to him for more warmth.  He only drank lemonade with his meal, but he feels blissfully light-headed.

Silence only arrives when you reach your doorstep. You stand in front of each other, Sunghoon looking down at his feet, you gazing out at the empty street. He knows this is the moment where he is supposed to kiss you. If there was a step-by-step guide on how to date — there probably is, but Sunghoon hasn’t resorted to such loser-like measures yet — this would probably be the moment where it would be written to just kiss her, you idiot. But nerves get the best of him.

At least, you’re there to save the day. You direct your gaze towards him, a bashful smile playing on your lips. “So… are you gonna kiss me now?” you ask, essentially reading his mind. 

He reacts immediately. “Y-yep. Yes. I am.” Heart racing, he takes a step towards you as he rests his hands on your waist. Then he changes his mind, and brings one hand up to your cheek. There’s an eyelash that has fallen below your eye; he brushes it out of the way with his thumb before leaning in and pressing his lips against yours.

In all of his late-night scenarios and daydreams of kissing you, he had never imagined something as good as this. You find your rhythm within seconds. It’s slow, almost hesitant, yet so tender, it makes Sunghoon’s heart ache. As your lips move against each other in perfect sync, as your hands find their way around Sunghoon’s neck, he realizes he should have known — this will not go away as quickly as it came.

Only when you grab a fistful of his hair, making him react viscerally and wrap his arm around your waist to bring you closer to him, does he remember where the two of you are. He leans back, then almost passes out when you chase his lips and press a shorter but just as sweet kiss there. He commits this view to memory—the smile on your lips, the glow on your face, the haziness in your eyes.

“Do you wanna come up?”

“Yes,” he replies immediately, and it makes you laugh. You grab his hand and lead him up the stairs and into your apartment.

“Are the girls in?” he asks as you lock the front door.

“Minjeong is at karaoke with her school friends, and Yunjin and Chaewon are at a dinner party somewhere.”

“Minjeong karaokes?”

“Get enough G&Ts in her and she’ll do anything.”

You turn on a small lamp in your room and take off your jacket. Sunghoon has been in your apartment before, but never in your room—at some point, he’ll spend an hour observing every photograph and trinket in detail, asking you about every backstory, but right now, he’s got more important things to tend to. His heart beats uncontrollably as you shut the door to your room and walk towards him, eyes gazing deeply into his. The corners of your lips rise when you tug at the bottom of his sweatshirt, a clear indicator that you want it off. He wastes no time in obliging.

The air is buzzing with electricity when your lips find each other again. You’re both more confident this time around, and so the kiss is deeper, your touches bolder. Everything happens quickly—one second, you’re standing in the middle of your room; the next, you’re laying on your bed, Sunghoon underneath you. 

“You know,” he says between kisses, “I’d really planned on being a gentleman and not going up to your room after the first date…”

Your lips move from his lips to his jawline, warm and soft against his skin. Sunghoon closes his eyes and lets out a low hum of approval. “I’m glad you changed your mind,” you whisper, lips brushing against his neck as you speak. “And since we’re onto confessions, I can finally say I’ve been wanting to do this since we met.”

This information sends his mind reeling. Not once had he been sure of how you felt about him — he even remembers you saying no to a kiss — and here you are, saying you’ve been wanting to kiss him since the beginning, just like he had. 

“You’re me,” he replies breathlessly.

“Hm?”

“I mean, me too.”

You pause your kisses to giggle, a sound so soft and intimate it has Sunghoon melting impossibly more. “You’re me?”

Unfortunately, he is too preoccupied by you to put a filter between the weird, half-formed thoughts in his brain and the words that leave his mouth. “Don’t question it,” he says, a smile audible in his voice, before moving his head and catching your lips. If he couldn’t stop himself from saying odd things, he could at least distract you from them.

Sunghoon thinks he’s doing a good job keeping himself together, until you roll your hips against his. It’s barely anything, but it sends waves of pleasure and anticipation through his body. His grip on your waist tightens, and when you repeat the motion, his hands sneakily find their way down your back and under your dress. Palms splayed against your ass, he brings you down closer to him. The second you moan into the kiss, he’s a goner. 

After that, it doesn’t take long for clothes to be discarded or for curious fingers to find the other’s waistbands. Your movements are hasty, messy—the tension that had built up over weeks of pining for you, after getting close to kissing you twice and thinking about it a hundred times more, it all comes crashing down in this moment, as his teeth sink into the flesh of your neck, as your hands pull at strands of his hair, as your bodies gently bump into each other. If someone asked Sunghoon right now how long he’d known you, he’d say years, not mere weeks. It couldn’t possibly be real that this much desire had accumulated inside of him — and inside of you, if your broken moans and rapid breathing are anything to go by — in just over a month. 

He only slows down when he has you naked and heaving underneath him, reminding himself to savor the moment instead of rushing it. His fingertips graze down your sides until they reach between your thighs, and he marvels at the way his touch makes you shiver. His eyes are so wide with amazement at the sight of you that he probably looks like he’s never seen a woman before, but he can’t help himself—he always thought you were beautiful, but this is something else entirely. 

His first touch is hesitant, a slow upward motion of his thumb between your folds as if quite literally testing the waters. But it has you arching your back and gripping his bicep, meeting his eyes to silently plead for more. Sunghoon takes that as his green light, thumb circling your clit as his lips continue their work on your neck, on your face, everywhere they can reach. He slips a finger inside of you, then a second one, and when he is satisfied with the state he’s gotten you in, all disheveled and gasping for air, he replaces his fingers with his dick, rock-hard just from seeing and hearing you.

He slowly inches forward until he’s bottomed out, letting you adjust around him. “All good?” he whispers, lips moving against the shell of your ear.

“Never better,” you whisper back, smiling. You kiss him, and the tenderness of your lips on his, mixed with the feeling of being inside you, has Sunghoon’s heart constricting inside his chest. He starts rocking his hips back-and-forth into you, the side of his face is pressed up against yours, head light from the little oxygen the two of you share. It all feels oddly intimate for a first time, feels more like the kind of sex two people would have after years of knowing each other’s bodies. He moves like it’s second nature, thrusts deep and slow, trying to reach those spots that have your hands clawing at his back. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, using his free hand to push the hair that sticks to your face with sweat.

You wrap your legs higher around his hips, the shift in angle letting him go deeper. “Fuck, right there,” you say, voice strangled. Sunghoon doesn’t need to be told twice—he picks up his pace, and already within a minute, starts to feel himself reaching his limit. He tries to muffle his groans against your skin, but with the way your hold on him tightens and your moans go higher in pitch, you seem to be just as close as he is. When you do come undone around him, breath hitching in your throat before you release a heavy sigh, he has mere seconds left in him. A few thrusts later, his orgasm finally releases him from the tension that had been twisting his stomach into a knot for the past half-hour. You’re both spent, but he continues lazily rocking his hips against yours chasing the last remnants of pleasure, wanting to bask in it just a bit longer. He rolls onto his back after sliding out, wrapping his arms around you. You bury your face in the crook of his neck.

His chest rises and falls as his breathing takes its time returning to normal. In a way, he’s almost relieved it’s over, like any longer would’ve actually taken too much of a toll on him. He likes the comfort he gets from having you in his arms as much as the sex itself. “I didn’t know it could feel this good,” he says, the words spilling out of his mouth before he can stop them. He needs more than a few minutes to get his head back on straight and start thinking before he speaks again. You chuckle airily, he chuckles too, and within seconds, you’re both laughing for seemingly no reason. The bliss of such an intense orgasm and the lack of oxygen must have gone to your brain, too.

“Me either,” you say once the laughter dies down. When your lips find his once more, Sunghoon forgets entirely about his exhaustion and feels like he could go for a second round. “Shower?” you ask right when he realizes how sticky and smelly he is.

“Yes, please.”

He can’t keep his hands off of you in the shower, rubbing soap on every square inch of your skin when you could do it perfectly fine yourself, kissing you even when you’ve both got foaming cleanser on your faces. The taste of soap in his mouth is worth the giggles he gets out of you.

Sunghoon reaches heaven when you drop to your knees in front of him, water rushing down his back as you take him in your mouth. He’s eager to return the favor, of course, thumb flicking your clit with a speed and dexterity even he didn’t know he was capable of. If you weren’t already in the shower, you’d have needed another one.

As soon as your bodies hit the mattress, you both drift off to sleep, limbs wrapping around each other as though they had been separated for too long and finally found each other again—not to let go again.

--

When Sunghoon wakes up, it takes him a few seconds to realize that he hadn’t dreamt up last night’s events. He reaches a hand out hesitantly, still half-asleep and scared that you’ll disappear into thin air at the touch of his fingertips. But no—he feels your skin, warm and soft, and he knows this is real.

You’re laying on your side, facing away from him, so he has to strain his neck to peek at your face. You look so peaceful as you sleep—he doesn’t want to wake you up, but he can’t stop himself from wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing his torso against your back, humming contentedly to himself. He presses a soft, quiet kiss to the top of your head, just because he can.

Outside, clouds part, and a bright ray of sun shines through the window, landing right on your face. Sunghoon watches as you grumble and turn around, burying your face in his chest to avoid the blinding light, but the damage is done—you’re awake. He can tell from the drawled-out whine you let out and the way you grab tightly onto his waist, as if it was his fault the sun had decided to shine right on you. 

He lets you settle in a comfortable position. Stays still as you hike your leg over his legs, then slip it between them instead; as you press your cheek against his chest, then bury your nose in his neck; as you wrap your arm around his waist, then move it to thread your fingers through his hair, until you give up on falling back asleep altogether. “It’s so bright in here,” you mumble in lieu of a good-morning greeting.

You can’t see him, so Sunghoon smiles and tightens his grip around you—one arm circling your shoulders, the other, your waist. Skin to skin. “We forgot to close the blinds yesterday.”

“It’s okay,” you say, sighing. You press a kiss to the base of his neck, right between his collarbones, then lift your face to look at him. “How are you feeling?”

This is what it feels like to wake up next to her, Sunghoon thinks. He’d thought about it so many times: what you would look like first thing in the morning, what you’d say to him, what it’d feel like when your eyes met. If you’d be a slow sort of morning person, cuddling in bed with him until the very last possible second, or if you’d be up and about as soon as you woke up. If you’d be grumpy. If you’d want coffee. If you liked morning sex. 

It seems to be a recurring theme that Sunghoon’s imagination never quite lives up to reality. Your sleepy eyes boring into his, struggling to stay open, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck; your skin, so warm and so soft, your scent, so intoxicating he can barely think straight.

You’re better than a dream.

“I feel great. Do you feel great?”

“I feel amazing, thank you so much for asking,” you say, burrowing yourself impossibly closer to him.

The two of you stay like this for a while, talking about your plans for the day and begrudging how little you want to go about them. Sunghoon wishes this could go on forever, but then his stomach growls so loudly, his face turns red from embarrassment. He hadn’t even noticed how hungry he was. 

“You’re me,” you say, laughing, and Sunghoon can’t help but join in. “Is it crazy to have last night’s leftovers for breakfast?”

What Sunghoon hears is that you want him to stay; that you don’t want to part ways just yet.

“If by crazy you mean the best idea ever, then yes.”

“Amazing, because I’ve been thinking about that curry all night.”

“Really? I was thinking about something else,” he says, burrowing his face in your neck and leaving warm kisses there. 

You hum and lean into his touches, leaning into his touches. Chills run down his spine as your nails graze his sides. “There might’ve been other things occupying my mind, too.”

And just like that, breakfast is postponed to thirty minutes later.

--

After that night, Sunghoon forgets how to act right.

His mind has never been so singularly taken up by sex in all of his life. It was already preoccupied with you most of the time, but now that it has more material to gnaw on, it’s practically started to eat away at him. It doesn’t help that you’ve seen each other every day since, or that at every chance you get, you smile knowingly at him or try to get him to play footsies with you. Of course, he loves every bit of attention that he gets from you, but whenever he feels his heart get carried away, Minjeong’s words come back to him in a panic, and he remembers that he has no idea what it is that’s happening between you and him. You could be stringing him along, for all he knows, or you could be as into him as he is into you and just letting things happen. Unfortunately, just letting things happen was not something Sunghoon was good at—if things weren’t written black and white, he’d find a way to overthink even the littlest of details. Like how you’d kissed him for a good five minutes before letting him leave your apartment, otherwise known as the least platonic parting to exist, or conversely, like how you’d sometimes take hours to reply to texts.

If he was already a mumbling fool in front of you before, his condition has only worsened now. He tries his best to be normal and not make you or anyone in the group feel weird, but the fact is that you rocked his world and now he can’t look you in the eyes and not remember how it felt when you touched him or the sounds you made or the way you looked. It’s all playing in a loop in his mind and the only way he knows how to control it is by limiting his interactions with you, which doesn’t even work that well. 

The first couple days, you seem amused by his shyer-than-usual demeanor, but you quickly grow confused more than anything. Sunghoon won’t sit next to you, only speaks to you when necessary, doesn’t seek you out outside of a group setting. He tells himself he just needs some more time to be able to be around you casually again, but before that happens, one day at the library, you make a point to ask him if he’ll come help you get drinks for everyone from the dispenser machine. He knows it’d be too odd to say no, so he follows you.

He presses the buttons for everyone’s order (a Sprite for him, Diet Cokes for the girls, a Red Bull for Jake who has a midterm tomorrow and nothing for Jay who only swears by his disgusting herbal infusion) as you lean against the machine, arms crossed over your chest as you stare at him.

He has never felt so awkward in his life.

“So…” he starts although he has no idea what to say—he hopes something will just appear in his mind and that it’ll alleviate the tension. However, you seem to have other plans.

“What the hell, Sunghoon?” you say, taking him aback. When he glances at you, you don’t seem angry—just genuinely confused. “You’ve been avoiding me like the plague.”

“I haven’t!”

“Sunghoon,” you say sternly. He gives in right away.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I just-I didn’t know what to do. After we, you know…”

“After we had sex?” you say, then burst into laughter when he looks around the room to make sure no one’s heard. His cheeks heat up.

“Yes, after we had sex,” he whispers.

He pays for the drinks and picks them up. When he looks at you again, your smile has completely died down, and worry has settled into your features. “Do you regret it?” you ask, voice now as low as his. As if it hurts to say the words too loud.

Panic overcomes him, and he almost drops half of the drinks as he shakes his head. “No, of course not! I’m really sorry, Y/N, I never meant to be weird about it, I was just trying to wrap my head around everything, and I just… Well, I just didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry.”

You nod, taking his words in. “That’s fine. I get it. I just wanted to say, you know, it doesn’t have to change anything. We can still be friends and all. Like you said, it shouldn’t make things weird.”

Sunghoon’s stomach drops. He knows you’re trying to make him feel better, but you’ve inadvertently said the exact opposite of what he wanted to hear. He doesn’t want things to stay the same, or for you to stay friends. For him, things can’t go back to normal after that night — whatever normal means for the two of you — and he was foolishly hoping that you felt the same.

But clearly, you want to let the whole thing die and pretend like it never happened. And whether it’s a good thing or not, his feelings for you have grown so much, he’ll just let you lead him anywhere. Even if that turns out to be nowhere. 

So he conjures up the most convincing smile he can, hands you half of the drinks to carry, and says, “Yeah, sounds good.”

--

After that conversation, Sunghoon doesn’t think anything else will happen between the two of you. You had sex, you talked it out, and that’s the end of it. But then, it turns out that both of your last midterms are at the same time, in the same building, so you invite him to celebrate with pork belly and some drinks. Sunghoon is finishing his second beer when he starts to feel like he’s on that date again, laughing for no reason, butterflies in his stomach every time his gaze catches yours. You lean on your hand as you listen to him talk about a stupid memory from his childhood and he thinks he’s never seen anyone as pretty as you. 

The sun has long set when you say, “You know, it’s Wednesday today.”

He’s not sure what you’re trying to get at. “Yeah?”

“Minjeong’s out at karaoke tonight.”

With these simple words, all the images of you that Sunghoon had finally managed to banish from his mind come flooding back, and he is not even surprised to find himself half-naked in your bed thirty minutes later. So much for staying friends—one time is one thing, but Sunghoon knows he’ll never be normal again after a second time with you.

It’s not a long time before he finds himself in your room again. Every item of clothing between the two of you is gradually discarded while you kiss, lips growing more impatient with every inch of bare skin uncovered. He reluctantly lets you go when you suddenly giggle and say that you really need to pee, watching as you grab his t-shirt off the floor and put it on, just in case Minjeong comes home. You wear it like it’s yours, like it’s the most natural thing in the world that you’d be wearing his clothes. An indescribable feeling washes over Sunghoon at the sight, so intense he feels tears welling behind his eyes. Like something he’s been yearning for is finally at the grasp of his fingers; like it might slip away at any moment. 

His feelings must’ve transpired in the way he was looking at you—when you meet his eyes, your expression shifts slightly, and you quickly slip out of your room. He tells himself to reel it in. Get it together, he thinks. Or you’ll drive her away. 

A wave of tiredness hits him in the minute that you’re gone, probably due to all that soju and beer. “I’m back,” you whisper, but he doesn’t move, only opens his arms wide for you to get back into bed with him. It’s like a weight is lifted off his heart when he feels you against him again. You’re back. Your face is fresh, as if you’d splashed it with cold water, but when he slips one of his hands underneath your (his) t-shirt, your skin is still just as warm as before. Far from the fuzzy, tingly feeling he had gotten when you’d woken up together the other morning, now, he feels his desire for you deep in the pit of his stomach. The kind of hunger food couldn’t satisfy. “I missed you,” he whispers, voice low and gravelly. He reacts immediately when you squirm against him, tightening his grip around your waist and pulling you to him.

“I was gone two minutes.”

“I mean these past few days. I was starting to think I’d dreamt you up.” His hand on your lower back sneaks its way up between your bodies until it finds your breasts, cupping one of them with his palm before taking your nipple between his thumb and index, gently twisting. It pulls a half-gasp, half-moan from your throat, and the sound goes straight to his dick. “But you’re real, aren’t you?” 

“Very real,” you reply, a tremor in your voice. He’s barely touching you, and you’re already having trouble breathing. Sunghoon smiles at the idea of him having as much of a hold on you as you do on him.

“Good,” he says, voice so low it’s almost a growl. In one quick sweep, he pushes you down so your back is against the mattress, resting his palms on each side of your head.

He’s inside you within mere minutes. He’d wanted to hold back a bit, but you whispering Just put it in after thirty seconds of his fingers loosening you up was enough to convince him. His mind is already fuzzy with remnants of alcohol, and his overwhelming desire for you only makes matters worse. He barely has any control over his movements, rushed and sloppy, but as he drives himself deeper into you, your moans increase in volume. He only later realizes how tight his grip on your hips is when he sees two small bruises forming on the skin there. 

He comes quickly, probably embarrassingly so, but he can’t bring himself to care—he’s got other things on his mind. He’s not even bothered to discard the condom as he makes his way down your body, lips around your clit before you’ve even had the time to register what was happening. You cry out, a sound that Sunghoon works to pry out of you over and over again. Even when your thighs start shaking and you squirm away from him, he doesn’t relent. He’s just as desperate to make you feel good as he was desperate chasing his own pleasure earlier. He hooks his arms around your thighs, bringing you down to him and ensuring that you can’t get away. One hand still in his hair, the other clutching the bed sheets, you’ve turned your face sideways into the pillow so that your moans come out muffled. He is only satisfied when you’ve reached your second orgasm. 

As your breath slowly returns to normal, Sunghoon makes his way back up your body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. You clear your throat of its dryness and burst into soft, quiet laughter. “What’s funny?” Sunghoon murmurs, lips against your neck. 

“Nothing,” you say, still laughing. “That was just really, really nice.”

Sunghoon smiles. “I’m glad,” he says before kissing you, lips moving slowly against yours.

As he lays against you, the top of his head under your chin and your fingernails grazing along his back, a weird feeling overcomes him. Sunghoon is usually a pine-from-afar sort of guy, with at least five instances of hanging out that could or could not be a date before making things any sort of official. The pining has been a constant with all of his crushes. He’s gotten to the hanging out stage a couple of times, but the officialising has only happened once. Despite its low success rate, it’s a cycle Sunghoon feels comfortable with, and he’d imagined the rest of his romantic encounters would follow that pattern. 

But this is completely different. Of the three times you guys have met separately from your friend group, already two times have included sex. This isn’t a stage Sunghoon usually reaches before at least a few months and it disorientates him. What does it mean? That you like him so much, you decided to skip all of the steps and jump straight into the thick of it? He is reasonable enough not to delude himself into such a thought. He likes you a lot—that much he can be sure of. He’s liked you since the moment he laid eyes on you, even if the reason eludes him. Something in the way you smiled at him, the way you took him in stride as if you’d known him forever. When he thinks back to that party, he can’t believe it started out as the two of you being strangers. Even now, feeling your warm skin against his, it feels like a lie that just two months ago he hadn’t even met you. 

What he can’t say with total certainty is that you like him the same amount. Or that you like him any amount, really, although in his naivety he doesn’t understand how anyone could be this intimate with another person without liking them at least a little bit. And he doesn’t just mean the sex. He means this. The silently laying in each other’s arms, the soft kisses, the caresses wherever hands can reach. Eating post-sex snacks together, laughing as you watch the first episode of each other’s favorite sitcoms (Brooklyn Nine-Nine for him, Pen15, oddly enough, for you). Falling asleep together, cuddling the entire night then waking up and diving right back into each other’s embrace. 

After an entire day spent in rumination, Sunghoon’s still not sure what to make of it all.

All he knows is that when he DMs you that night, asking you how your day went, he goes through every emotion between anxiety, self-hatred and indifference in the five minutes that separate his text from your reply. He’s never been so happy to hear that someone couldn’t concentrate in class because of him.

--

Sunghoon has always been obsessed with the way couples stand together in public. 

Every time, it takes everything in him not to stare, because he wants to take in every little thing they do. He has that practically everywhere he goes, wanting to stare at people just to see what their deal is, but he is never quite as simultaneously fascinated and envious as when he spots a couple. But he knows staring isn’t the socially appropriate thing to do, so he either steals glances or watches for a little bit then pretends they aren’t there. He can’t help himself—even if they aren’t holding hands or obnoxiously making out in public, it’s still visible to anyone with eyes that there is something tying these people together. It’s in the way they stand near each other, their bodies turned inwardly, as though enveloped by a bubble containing just the two of them and no one else; in the way they look at each other, their eyes never straying from the other’s face as they talk, intimacy showing itself even in a loud, crowded room. Sunghoon craves to find that proximity, to be able to touch and be touched so softly, every graze of a hand purposeful and unconscious at the same time.

It’s the first of November already. The Weather app, as it tends to do, has deceived you; so instead of a walk on what was supposed to be a sunny day, you find yourselves in a busy café near the University, the air outside too chilly even with your scarves and gloves. You’re waiting for your order at the end of the counter — a mocha for him, an oat flat white for you — when he notices it. Your body is fully facing him, you’re distractedly playing with the hem of his sweatshirt, and you’re not looking at anything but him as you rant about that annoying classmate of yours that goes by a self-made nickname and always talks over the tutor. In this light, the two of you are like the couples he’s always longed to be—the simple thought makes him want to cry. As more and more often is the case these days, you have no idea what you’re doing to him.

It’s been around two months since you first met and in that time, although Sunghoon is lucky not to have enough fingers to count the number of times you have seen each other one-on-one, not much has happened. Minjeong, who had understood what was going on the first time she saw the two of you eating leftovers from the Japanese restaurant on the couch at 10 a.m., has grown accustomed to his presence in the apartment and even sometimes sits down to watch a movie with the two of you—a movie that Chaewon would usually have forced you to watch in the living room instead of the privacy of your bedroom, so that everyone could join. Sunghoon is just glad Minjeong has stopped silently scolding him with her eyes every time he comes out of your room. She never mentions that night when she essentially warned him against you after the party. 

Jake seems to be the only oblivious one in your group. Yunjin and Chaewon have eyes like hawks and horrifyingly vivid imaginations when they put their heads together, so they were probably already making plans for your wedding and fighting for the title of godmother when you and Sunghoon met at the beginning-of-semester party. They cornered him once at a party and forced him to spill the beans and spare no detail, because you apparently were “denying everything, but we know there’s something going on.” Jay is still Sunghoon’s go-to person when he needs advice concerning you, although the older boy doesn’t understand why it has to be so complicated and always tells him to “just tell her how you feel,” which Sunghoon will not do unless there is a gun to his head. But Jake just seems happy to see his friend and his sister get along this well—no matter how many times you wear his jacket at their games or disappear at the same time at the end of parties, he doesn’t grow suspicious. If he does, he doesn’t mention it to Sunghoon, at least.

Between the two of you, not a word is spoken about the nature of your relationship, which remains unbearingly undefined. For a while, he weakly convinces himself that he doesn’t need to have that conversation with you. He’s young, he’s free, he should be able to enjoy casual sex without putting a label on it. The main problem, though, was that the sex could not be further from casual, at the very least not to Sunghoon.

He has never known anything quite like it. In mere weeks, you’ve both mastered the art of pleasuring each other. He understands your body like it’s his, knows what each of the sounds and expressions you make means. He knows where to touch you to have a kiss go from light-hearted to dizzyingly intense, how to move his mouth to have you arching your back and holding onto him for dear life. And you—he thinks your skin must be laced with cocaine, the way he can never get enough of it. 

But it’s always the moments afterwards that get him in his head. To him, casual sex means getting dressed the minute it’s over and going off to do other things, which is the absolute opposite of what you do. Whether it’s falling asleep together or spending Sundays in bed, you always stay together afterwards, curled up in each other’s arms as you talk away the hours, conversations interspersed with slow, lazy kisses. He’ll say things like, “You’re so pretty,” or “Why do you smell so good?” because he’s so smitten with you that he can never stop himself from uttering every compliment that flashes through his brain, but the things he really wants to say are harder to speak out loud. Even just a What are we?—three simple words that he can’t bring himself to ask, too scared it’ll ruin everything. 

Arguably worse is that sex isn’t even a requirement for when you and Sunghoon see each other. He goes on walks with you whenever you’ve spent too much time in the library and need some fresh air. You go shopping with him when his department throws a fundraiser and he needs a formal outfit. He cooks you your favorite meal when your period is particularly nasty. You sneak into the ice rink after his practice and let him ‘teach’ you how to skate, even though you already learned how with Jake when you were kids. Even mundane moments become fun when spent with you, and you share so many hobbies and interests that you never run out of things to do or talk about.

And yet, it feels like one step forward, two steps back with you—if you let him close one night, you’ll run away the next. A week will pass without you seeing each other outside of the library or group hang-outs, and if Sunghoon asks you out, you’ll say no, usually blaming the amount of work you have. He gets it—due to the nature of your degree and your being a fourth-year student, your workload is much heavier than his, with essays, translations and oral presentations due every other week. And that’s not even including midterms and finals. But still, he doesn’t see why you would need to stay at the library for ten hours straight for days on end. He’d start worrying about your health if you didn’t at least relax on weekends. 

So while Sunghoon wants nothing more than to go all in with you, he senses you holding back. He notices you avoiding eye contact during particularly intimate moments, and when you look at him perhaps too fondly for your liking, you quickly catch yourself and resume your neutral, sometimes almost cold expression. When he tries to broach more personal, sensitive topics, you always find a way to change the subject or turn the conversation towards him before you get too deep. 

As time passes, and especially as exam season nears, he can tell there’s something that you’re not telling him about. His suspicions are confirmed when you come back from a weekend at your parents’ house. He’s also been away for an out-of-town hockey game, and because he hasn’t had much time to text you (and because their team won, so he wants to show off a little), he’s particularly looking forward to seeing you again that Monday. It’s only been three days since you’ve last seen each other, but he misses you like crazy. 

But the minute you’re back, you bury yourself in work like never before, often waking up at ungodly hours and staying at the library until midnight. More than once, he stays behind with you, long after the others have gone, reminding you gently every hour that it might be time to go home and get some rest. The moments you actually agree are few and far between, and although he sticks it out at first, sleeping with his head on the table until you tell him you’re ready to go, your stubbornness soon starts frustrating him, and he ends up leaving when he gets too tired. He knows this is important to you, but he doesn’t understand why you have to go to these lengths—you’d still easily be one of the best students in your class without all this exertion. And despite his many attempts, you won’t tell him what’s wrong, won’t even admit that something is wrong—you keep repeating that “it’s just what exam season is like.”

When he asks your friends about it, they seem just as confused as he is. One evening when you have plans to order some food and watch a movie at your apartment, he shows up at the agreed time, but you’re nowhere to be found. Thankfully, the girls are there to let him up and not leave him standing outside in the rain. You don’t pick up when he calls you and call him back a minute later, apologizing profusely but still saying that there’s something you really need to finish first. If it was only a one-time thing, it wouldn’t make him as angry as it does—but this has been going on for almost two weeks now, and Sunghoon is close to boiling point. 

The fact that it’s been months since your date at the Japanese restaurant, and the only thing that you’ve said about what was happening between you and Sunghoon “didn’t have to change anything.” The fact that you’re essentially each other’s boyfriend and girlfriend without the label or the reassurance that comes with it. The fact that there’s something clearly bothering you but that you won’t tell him about it. The fact that this something is effectively coming between the two of you. Sunghoon was originally more worried about you than anything—now that studying has taken obvious precedence over him in your list of priorities, he’d be lying if he said his ego wasn’t wounded. He isn’t asking to be the number one most important thing in your life, and he knew before even meeting you that high academic performance meant a lot to you, but he likes to think he deserves at least a little bit of your time and attention. 

Except, does he really? It’s not like you’re actually dating.

There’s a pang in his heart as he remembers this fact that he should never have forgotten in the first place. It hurts—and so perhaps, he’s less patient than he ought to be.

“Whatever, Y/N. Don’t worry about it, just let me know when you have time for something other than getting As.”

He hangs up and meets your flatmates’ worried eyes. 

“She still at the library?” Chaewon asks, tone delicate as if trying not to scare off a wounded animal. Sunghoon nods, a deep sigh escaping his mouth. 

“She always studies a lot,” Minjeong starts, “but this is something else.”

“Have you guys tried saying something?”

The girls nod. “Even Jake has talked to her, but she won’t listen. And he usually always gets to her,” Minjeong says. 

He goes home soon afterwards and spends the rest of his evening in rumination, torn between his worry and his anger towards you—emotions which only increase as more days pass, and he sees less and less of you. Your behavior was already concerning while preparing for your exams and final assignments, it gets even worse when exams actually do start. He doesn’t hear from you for an entire week, and the one time you miraculously agree to a short group hang-out in the form of getting coffee, you’re only half there, physically present but mind far, far away. You barely react when the guys tell you about their victory at the latest hockey game—which you didn’t attend, as well as any other game recently. 

No matter how much he tries to put it out of his mind, to focus on his own exams and hockey games, you stay at the forefront of his thoughts. The hockey team is away for another out-of-town game when he decides to broach the subject with Jake, with whom he’s sharing a room. The entire semester, he’s been careful not to raise Jake’s suspicions about the two of you, both out of consideration for you, who’d mentioned you didn’t want your brother to know what was going on, and for himself, who would also rather Jake not know, at least not until your relationship became official. Which it never did. But now that all he gets from you is radio silence at a time when you’d usually be an hour into a FaceTime call, he can’t help himself.

Jake is just coming out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel, when Sunghoon takes his shot in the dark. “Have you heard from Y/N recently?” he asks as nonchalantly as he can, pretending to not be avidly waiting for his friend’s reaction by keeping his eyes on his phone.

“Y/N?” Jake echoes. “No, not really. Why?”

“Just ‘cause I haven’t seen her around much. I’m wondering if everything’s okay.”

“You mean her staying at the library all day?” Sunghoon nods; Jake sighs. “Yeah, she’ll snap out of it soon enough. She gets somewhat like this every time exams come around, but even I have to admit it’s pretty tough this time around. The last time I saw her like this was way back in high school, and that’s because our parents were watching right over her shoulder. It’s been better in university thanks to the distance.”

“So this has to do with your parents?”

“Oh, one hundred percent. She’s always wanted to do well at school, but she only gets this obsessive when our parents are involved.”

“I guess this did start after that weekend when she went home…” Sunghoon muses absent-mindedly. It could’ve passed off as an off-hand remark, but Jake pauses in his movements and looks at him warily.

“Yeah, she did… You noticed that, huh?”

Sunghoon pauses. This whole time, he was sure Jake was oblivious to anything happening between you and him—but he might have underestimated his friend. Like brother, like sister; he can hardly read either of you when he really needs to. Jake might genuinely be surprised that Sunghoon remembered your whereabouts that weekend, or he’s onto him. “I guess I did,” he finally says, going for as noncommittal an answer as he can.

Jake says nothing for a bit, and Sunghoon thinks he’s managed to get through the conversation without raising too much suspicion—until a minute later, when Jake speaks again. “Do you… like Y/N?”

Sunghoon freezes, snapping his head towards Jake, who’s lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. His first instinct is to deny, but there’s no point pretending anymore. It’s one thing keeping it from Jake—lying to him about it is something else entirely. It’s an uncomfortable conversation, but it must be had. “Yeah, I do,” Sunghoon replies, guilt clear in his voice, more because he’s only now admitting it to Jake than because of his feelings themselves.

A shaky breath comes out of Jake’s mouth, as if this was the exact answer he had dreaded. “Right, okay. Since when?”

“Since I met her, basically.”

Jake’s head whips towards Sunghoon, and their gazes meet awkwardly. “Since that party in September?” he asks, shock written all over his face. Sunghoon nods, and to his surprise, Jake bursts out laughing. “Don’t tell me it’s because you accidentally matched costumes?”

Sunghoon looks away, frowning. “That might’ve helped things along,” he mumbles, embarrassment washing over him as Jake’s laughter intensifies. At least he was taking it well—a bit too well, perhaps.

“You’re so predictable, man,” Jake says when he’s calmed down, wiping a tear from his eye. 

“How did you know, anyway?”

“You’ve been pretty obvious with it recently,” Jake replies after a few seconds. “I could tell you were a bit shy around her at first, and when it got better I just thought you’d become friends or something. But when she showed up with your jacket at every game and you never left her side at parties, I assumed something else was going on. You’ve always been staying behind at the library these days, and I know you don’t have that much work.”

Sunghoon chuckles. “I guess I haven’t been trying hard to hide it lately.”

“Yeah, why would you hide it in the first place? You could’ve just told me.”

“I didn’t want to make things weird.”

Jake frowns. “It wouldn’t have been weird. If anything, hiding it makes it weirder.”

“I just thought, if one of my friends had a crush on my sister, I’d probably rather they hid it. Like, I don’t need to know about that,” Sunghoon says, and it makes Jake laugh.

“Dude, Y/N and I are only a year apart. Do you know how many guys have come up to me asking me for her number or advice on how to ask her out? It’s been, like, one every few months since middle school. Guys here especially have no shame telling me how hot they find her.”

Sunghoon makes a face. He doesn’t disagree, but he’d never go out of his way to tell your brother how exquisite you looked in certain outfits. “That’s gross.”

“Yeah, it is. But you’re my friend, not some greasy rando, so I trust you. If anything, I’d probably have to tell her to be nice to you, and not the other way around.”

“Yeah, you could say that again,” Sunghoon grumbles, then realizes his mistake immediately, eyes widening.

“What do you mean?” Jake asks, sounding genuine at first, but when Sunghoon stays quiet for a couple seconds, debating whether he should just lay the truth bare, Jake sits up on the bed and repeats his question, his tone much warier this time around. Sunghoon glances at him then looks away guiltily.

“Well, to be completely honest… We’ve sort of been seeing each other, kind of. But it’s complicated.”

Jake flops back down on his mattress with a grunt. “Who else knows?” he asks, rubbing at his eyes with his hands as if suddenly very exhausted.

“Everyone…”

“Everyone?!”

“Well, Jay, Minjeong, Yunjin and Chaewon.”

“So everyone.”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Great.” Jake sighs. “Since when?”

“Since October,” Sunghoon mumbles, feeling guiltier than ever. He’s belatedly realizing that it would’ve been much easier to have everything out in the open from the get-go, both with you and with Jake; now he’s both stuck in situationship limbo and has to face the consequences of keeping something this important from one of his closest friends. “Are you upset?” Sunghoon asks, feeling a bit like a ten-year-old.

“Kinda, yeah, but more at her than at you. I’ve told her not to go after anyone from the hockey team.”

“‘Cause of Heeseung?”

“Yeah. God, that was messy. He gave her mixed signals for so long, I could barely talk to him without thinking of her crying for so long. And now he’s the one who can’t quite look me in the eye,” Jake says, shaking his head at the mere thought of his captain.

“Was it that bad? She made it seem like it wasn’t that big of a deal.”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “Really? It upset her for a while though,” he says, then turns his head to look at the ceiling again. “I guess that’s not so surprising of her. She sometimes likes pretending she doesn’t have any emotions, even though I’m pretty sure she has more than most people.”

“Huh.” That would explain some things, Sunghoon muses. Emotions are not a topic that comes up very often with you, and every time he’s gotten an inkling of them, you seem to shut it all down immediately.

“But you know, I’m more surprised than anything. About… about it all, really. Not just that you’re only telling me now, but that it’s lasted this long. She must really like you.”

“You think?” Sunghoon says, his face brightening with hope, the words slipping from him before he can stop them once again. He shrinks when Jake laughs at him.

“Look at you. Down bad, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“But yeah, dude. I’ve told you about this. I’ve never seen her in a relationship, ever. Says she doesn’t have the time,” Jake says, air-quoting you. “I’ve only had the displeasure of seeing her go home with one-night-stands. You know that since she started college, she’s had a rule that she’d only see someone three times and that was it?”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, so she wouldn’t catch feelings. I’m telling you, she’s crazy. So you must be special.”

Sunghoon can’t stop the smile from spreading on his lips—special. But it doesn’t make him feel that much better, either. “It’s not like we’re actually dating, so I’m not sure how special I can be…”

Jake’s head turns to look at Sunghoon again, but the younger boy keeps his eyes trained on the ceiling fan above him. “What’s happening between you guys?”

A blush creeps on Sunghoon’s cheeks. “Is this something you really want to talk about?”

“Well, spare me the gruesome details, please,” Jake says, chuckling, “but yeah, I would like to know what’s going on with my best friend and my sister.”

“I’m your best friend?” Sunghoon says, grinning as he meets Jake’s gaze, who rolls his eyes.

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Fine.” He sighs. “Well, I didn’t think it would happen more than once-”

“What would happen more than once?”

Sunghoon pauses. “Well, you know…” Jake gives him a look as if to say, Well, no, I don’t know, so Sunghoon is forced to go on: “Sleeping together.”

“You guys slept together?!” Jake exclaims, sitting up on his bed once again.

“Yeah, what did you think?”

“I don’t know, just that you were going on dates, hanging out one-on-one, or whatever…”

“Well, we were.”

“Ugh, whatever,” Jake says, waving his hand in front of his face like swatting a fly away. “So, not just once, then?”

“No. And I thought it’d be a one-time thing, ‘cause a few days afterwards she said something about it not having to change our friendship…”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. But then it did. Happen again, I mean. And it’s been happening frequently since. But we’re not… dating dating. We haven’t had that conversation.”

Jake frowns. “Why not?”

Sunghoon releases a shaky breath. Why not, indeed. “‘Cause she hasn’t mentioned it. And I’m too scared to do it.”

“What are you scared of?”

“The typical stuff. What we have now… it’s not what I want, but it’s managed to not disrupt the group, you know. I’m scared that if I tell her how I feel, it’ll make things awkward between the two of us, and between all of us by extension.”

“Well, it might,” Jake says after thinking for a few seconds. “I wish I could tell you with certainty that she’ll like you back, but I honestly can’t. As obvious as you were towards her, she was not giving anything away.” Sunghoon chuckles, more out of self-deprecation than anything. This was not the pep talk he had hoped for. “But, I can tell you that she won’t be the type to make things awkward. You have nothing to risk by telling her, because in the long run, you’ll be better off that way. I know you, Sunghoon. You’ll be miserable if you can’t be fully yourself with someone.”

Decidedly, Sunghoon’s friends had a way of telling him the exact opposite of the things he wanted to hear while being completely right. He wishes things with you could stay the same — minus the overworking yourself and ignoring him in the process — and that he wouldn’t have to do anything that might make them change. But just as Jake said, he’d also reach a point where he couldn’t take it anymore—a point he was already inching closer and closer to with every passing day. He likes you enough to let you not define the relationship, but he likes you too much to let it go on. He likes you too much to not be able to tell you, and show you, and remind you of it every day. He hated having to hold back, and he hated feeling you holding back. He wanted to give you his all and he wanted all of you, too, not just bite-sized portions of you.

“You’re right,” he finally says. “I haven’t been able to talk to her lately, but I’ll have to tell her soon enough. When her exams are over, I guess.”

Jake sighs. “Yeah. I don’t know if there’s any getting through to her right now.”

“She’s blown me off so many times! I don’t know what she’s doing, spending so many hours in that library. I’d go insane.”

“She’s a perfectionist,” Jake says, shaking his head. “I’ve talked to her about it. When it comes to school, she needs everything to be as flawless as can be. She spends hours re-reading and editing her work. It’s not good.”

“Not really, no.”

“But she’s only got a week left. I’ll try to convince her not to go home for too long, and it’ll be better after the holidays. Then we’ll make sure there’s not a repeat of this next exam season.”

He thinks of Christmas break and of not seeing you for two weeks; of next semester and going through all of this with you a second time. The uncertainty, the fooling around behind your friends’ backs — although that might not be needed now that Jake is in on it too — Sunghoon’s not sure if he can go through it all again. “Yeah, we will.”

--

They lose their game the following day. They had an amazing run, either winning or tying every game so far; this loss is not enough to make them drop significantly in the rankings, but it’s enough to demoralize Sunghoon. It couldn’t have come at a worse time—between you and this failed game, his self-esteem is taking a real hit.

He dared hope for some comfort from you once he was back, but in vain. He doesn’t know why he imagined your attitude might’ve changed overnight, and when he texts you asking to hang out, the same old sorry I can’t atm fills his phone screen. And just like that, as strong as his feelings for you have been all this time, so is his resentment—unwarranted, perhaps, but he thinks he deserves better than this, and he’s both angry at you for not giving him anything and at himself for letting it happen.

Now, he’s the one who spends hours working himself to the bone in the ice rink, who’s clearly preoccupied with other things when everyone gets together, and who doesn’t even show up to the party the whole group goes to when you’re all done with exams. The last game before winter break is in two days, and he doesn’t want to waste a day nursing a hangover when he could be practicing.

That night, he thinks everyone is out at some random club downtown, so he does a double-take when it’s past eleven p.m. and you show up at the rink. He’s skating laps, practicing his speed and his goal-shooting, only noticing you when you’re standing in the middle of the rink. He almost skates right into you.

“Y/N?” he asks, not completely sure you’re not just a figment of his imagination. He’s so exhausted, he wouldn’t be surprised if he were dreaming you up.

“Jay texted me.”

“Oh. Why?” He’s out of breath, and the words come out blunter than he intends them to.

“Because it’s almost midnight and you’re still here,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest. There’s a hint of a smile on your lips, but your eyebrows are furrowed in what looks like worry. It’s the first time Sunghoon’s seeing you concerned over something other than an assignment. 

He shrugs and resumes his laps, slower this time, forcing you to keep turning on your feet. “I’m practicing. There’s a big game coming up.”

“Which is exactly why you should be resting, like everyone else on your team right now.”

He resists rolling his eyes. “Why would I rest when I could be getting better?”

“Because you need rest as much as you need practice. You won’t be any use on the rink if you’re too tired to play properly.”

“And I won’t be any use if I can’t shoot properly, either.”

“Sunghoon, you need a break. You’re clearly exhausted-Will you stop it?” you suddenly snap. “I’m trying to talk to you, and I’m getting dizzy.” 

Your small outburst only has him growing more agitated, and even though he does stop, it’s more so you can see the annoyance on his face than anything. “You know, this is a bit rich coming from you, Y/N.” He knows this is not the right time to bring this up—if he has grievances against you, he shouldn’t be bringing them up when he’s already frustrated. He’s well aware of this, but he can’t help himself.

You scoff. “Excuse me?”

“You’re the one who spends twelve hours a day in the library during exams and does not budge even if I tell you you should go home.”

“That’s different-”

“How is it any different?” he interrupts, voice rising. “You don’t listen to me when you overwork yourself. I don’t see why I should.”

“So you realize that you’re overworking yourself?”

“Of course I do! But I have to.”

“No, you don’t-”

“Y/N, please. I have to win as much as you have to get the top grades. Is it actually necessary? No, but you know how shit it feels not to.”

“And it’s exactly because I know that feeling that I’m telling you to stop. You’re just feeding into it.”

“So are you, staying until 2 a.m. in the library. You’ve never once gone home when I asked you to.”

“Again, that’s different-”

“How?! How is it different? Please enlighten me, ‘cause they’re the exact same thing to me.”

You sigh. A sudden sadness appears on your face. Sunghoon is torn between wanting to see this to its end and taking everything he’s said back. But he keeps quiet, and your eyes, when they meet his again, harden. “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

“Yes.”

As if you couldn’t say your next words while looking at him, you tear your gaze away from his face. “Because I’m actually concerned about you, here. The only reason you want me to stop and go home is so we can fuck.”

Sunghoon is so astounded that all words fail him—he stares at you, mouth wide open like you just shot him. After a few seconds, all he’s able to come up with is an incredulous, “What?” His voice is a mere whisper. 

“You heard me,” you say coldly.

He closes his mouth and swallows. “So… you’re the one who’s worried, and I’m only after sex?”

You glance at him. “Yeah.”

A chuckle escapes Sunghoon’s throat, then another, until laughter spills out of him uncontrollably. He feels like the world is upside down. How could you have lived the same thing and come out of it with such different perspectives? Your account of his intentions with you is so ridiculous and unfathomable to him that he can’t do anything but laugh.

You seem taken aback at first, but your surprise quickly turns into annoyance. “Something funny?”

“Hilarious, actually,” he says, holding his stomach. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. All he finds at the end of his amusement is anger, bright red and hot. It’s not an emotion he feels often, its rarity only serving as an intensifier—he starts making his way out of the rink before it can explode and hit you in its wake. “Well, that’s convinced me to call it a day. So you got what you came for, I guess.”

His fingers tremble as he undoes the laces on his skates and puts his sneakers on again. You stand by the door of the rink, holding onto the frame as you look at him, that same sad look still on your face. “Hoon,” you say, voice weak. What would usually have him melting only has his anger flare harder.

“Don’t. For the first time ever, I actually really don’t want to talk to you right now.” He stands up, gives you one last harsh look, and turns away. He only halts right before exiting the bleacher area, and after a couple seconds of thinking, turns back around. “Oh, but don’t worry, I’ll let you know when I want to fuck again. Since that’s all this is, clearly.”

--

It seemed to you no one thought you were good enough for Sunghoon.

Only Yunjin and Chaewon seemed excited at the prospect of the two of you getting together, or at least getting to know each other, but they were also the type to coo at dogs in the street and tear up at the sight of old people holding hands; Minjeong was apprehensive from the start, and made it clear; Jay was indifferent; Jake was oblivious for a while. Sunghoon was…

What was Sunghoon?

Someone who had come out of nowhere, shaken up your routine and messed with your head. That’s what Sunghoon was. He didn’t seem apologetic in the slightest.

Maybe it was your fault for not opening up to the people closest to you and letting them think you were some kind of no-strings-attached one-night-stands-only emotionless maneater who had been single for as long as they had known her, who would be seen with someone new every few months, and never for long, who, as far as the eye could tell, only used men for sex. Maybe it was their fault for never trying to dig deeper.

No, okay, it was definitely your fault.

Based on your conversations with your friends, they thought Heeseung had broken your heart, and you had never bounced back properly. He’d hurt you so much, you couldn’t fathom a real relationship anymore—you could only be with someone casually. Which wasn’t so far from the truth, but what Heeseung had done was much worse than just breaking your heart. He’d confirmed what you already knew of yourself: you want too much. You want what you can’t have, what you don’t deserve.

From the moment you met Park Sunghoon, you knew you didn’t deserve someone like him. Minjeong seemed to agree, and when she saw you and him together at choir that Saturday in September, three months ago already, she made sure you knew her thoughts on the matter.

“This is so… unlike you,” was the first thing she’d said after she pulled you aside. 

“What is?”

“This,” she repeated, waving her arms around. “Being here. Coming with him.” She pointed at Sunghoon, whose hair was being ruffled by one grandma and his cheek pulled by another. He kept glancing back worriedly at you—you liked him so much already. “See? You’re smiling at him,” she said, making you realize a sappy smile had started growing on your lips at the sight of him. Your face dropped and you scoffed at the disgust in her voice.

“Yeah, some of us like to smile. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Y/N, you know what I’m trying to say.”

“I don’t think I do, actually.”

She sighed. “You don’t do this. You don’t meet a guy and show up to his choir practice the next morning. What’s happening?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. Had you known your presence would be questioned like that, you might’ve thought twice about coming. “Can’t a girl enjoy a choir without getting interrogated these days?”

“You’re avoiding my question! Listen, Y/N. Sunghoon is not the kind of guy you usually go for. He’s-Stop. Don’t smile at me like that.”

“If you like Sunghoon, you can just tell me. You know I wouldn’t stoop so low as to go after a guy my best friend likes.”

“So you are going after him?”

“So you do like him?”

Minjeong shook her head violently and put her hands on your shoulders, staring into your brain as if trying to make you see some sense. Calmly, she said, “No, I don’t. Sunghoon’s nice, but he is so far from my type. He’s too… nice.”

“You mean he doesn’t wear leather jackets or ride a motorcycle?”

“That was once. But no, he doesn’t do that. And what I’m trying to tell you is that he’s not your type either.”

“And how have you gathered that?”

“Because so far, you’ve only wisely chosen guys who are as detached and emotionally stunted as you.”

“I’m not-”

“But he’s not like that, Y/N. He’s the bring-home-to-your-parents-for-Christmas type. Not the hump-and-dump type.”

“I’m starting to get offended by this conversation.”

“All I’m saying is, don’t go breaking his heart. Or yours, for that matter. It pains me to say but I care about both of you very much and I don’t see this going anywhere good.”

You shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Was her opinion of your romantic tendencies — or lack thereof — that bad that she couldn’t even recommend you to her friend? You felt like a chastised child whose mom told you you couldn’t get the toy you wanted. Despite being well aware that you weren’t the most committed when it came to relationships, you still felt like she was going overboard. Just because nothing had stuck so far didn’t mean it wouldn’t now—she was acting like you went around playing with people’s feelings for fun.

“Jesus, this is my second time seeing him. I just wanna see what his deal is. I’m not breaking anyone’s heart, okay?” 

The choir conductor had called out for everyone to gather on stage then, and that was the end of that conversation. You still remember how funny of a thing it was, seeing Sunghoon in his nice shirt and trousers, his hair falling into his eyes, singing diligently with the choir, when just the night before he had been playing beer pong dressed as Cowboy Ken. In this new light, you understood why Minjeong was so adamant about him not being your usual type, and why the grandmas were fussing over him. You hadn’t known what had pushed you to invite yourself to this rehearsal, and even then as you sat there, you weren’t sure what you were doing or why you couldn’t stop smiling as you watched Sunghoon sing. 

Time made things clearer, starting with that afternoon at the beach. The salt in the air that day had clouded your thoughts, covered them with a thin layer so that your usual reluctance to share anything remotely personal had dimmed. Or maybe it had had nothing to do with the air and everything to do with the boy sitting next to you on the sand, the way words came tumbling out of your mouth before you could think about them and were only met with understanding and empathy on his part. For once, you didn’t feel the need to guard yourself, to adapt your words and actions to the person in front of you. It was something you didn’t know was possible with a near stranger—perhaps because Sunghoon felt nothing like one.

He made you feel things you hadn’t felt in a long time; things you had been craving to feel, needed almost as much as oxygen. Being with him felt like breathing again. But you had been underwater so long, being on land again felt foreign, scary, and you couldn’t help but dive back into safe waters, coming up for air once in a while.

Whether he had intended to or not, Sunghoon had started to scratch at your surface, until he’d burrowed a small hole—shallow, but enough for cracks to appear, cracks you were quick to put back together as best as you could.

So when his gaze was too tender, his touches too gentle, you bristled. You went away, because you were afraid of what might happen if you stayed. The more you wanted to give him, the less you gave him anything at all. Your own desire overwhelmed you. His letterman jacket was warm around your shoulders, you proudly walked around with the four letters of his last name on your back, but you couldn’t get out of your mind how cold it would be if it was one day ripped away from you. 

You thought of Heeseung, how disillusioned you had been when you thought you had finally met someone who would love you the way you had always yearned to be, only for him to toss you away when you started asking for too much. You thought of your friends in middle school, how it seemed that no friendship could be more wonderful until you overheard them talking about you at a sleepover, about how clingy you were. You thought of your parents, how they had only bestowed kind words upon you when you performed well in your role of perfect daughter, of academically gifted child. How they hadn’t even glanced at any of the drawings you’d done of the four of you, mother, father, son and daughter holding hands with a bright yellow sun in the corner of the sky. How they had pushed you away from their bed when you seeked some comfort after a terrible nightmare. How they had never bothered to hide their disappointment when you came home from school with anything less than an A. How they had shunned your brother for not going down the path they had envisioned for him, how hard you had to fight to make them accept yours was not a worthless one.

Even your best friend seemed to think you were unable to receive affection of the likes of Sunghoon’s—but what you were afraid of was that he wouldn’t handle the amount of affection you knew you were able to give. In a way, that was what had drawn you to Sunghoon in the first place—from the moment you’d met him, you had been able to tell there was something of you in him. It seemed to you he had a heart that was overflowing with love, love to give, love to spare on whoever would have it. In his words, you were him. Nevertheless, your fear of getting hurt overrode your desire to feel Sunghoon’s love, and you didn’t know whether you would be able to revert to your nature after having spent so much time perfecting your new facade.

You knew what it was like to be cold. And so you prematurely braced yourself for it by pushing away Sunghoon’s warmth. If it was going to happen at some point, like Minjeong had hinted it would, might as well get used to it, right?

Except the cold never came. Sunghoon kept on burning relentlessly, no matter how much wood you fed his fire with—you could cling to him for nights on end or ignore his texts for days, without fail, he’d welcome you with his usual, unwavering warmth. He allowed you to bask in it, to momentarily let down your defenses. But something always happened to make you raise them back up—Minjeong would eye the two of you suspiciously, Heeseung would post on Instagram (Is one of the girls on slide five his new fling? Are they serious and it wasn’t that he wasn’t ready for a relationship, it’s that he didn’t want one with me?), or your mom would text you to ask you whether everything was okay.

Yet increasingly, you suspected there was something behind Sunghoon’s warmth, something you had missed, something that was tricking you. He looked at you like you had hung the stars in the night sky, yes; in public, a knowing look from you was enough to have his face turn bright red, and in private, one simple touch had his chest heaving, yes; he expressed disappointment every time you turned him down for a hang-out. Your attachment to him grew, and it became harder to put what the two of you had into words.

It wasn’t just sex—it couldn’t be. It ran deeper than that. You knew what relationships that consisted of just sex were like, and this wasn’t that, it was too good, too intimate to be just that. But you weren’t a couple, that much was clear. Only four other people were aware something was even going on, your brother not included, and you acted as regular friends in front of everyone. Jake had insisted you didn’t fool around with another member of his hockey team because his relationship with Heeseung had already deteriorated enough, he didn’t need to be on weird terms with anyone else on your behalf, so you were not keen on letting him know about what you got up to with Sunghoon. Anyway, even if everyone on earth was in on your shenanigans, you and Sunghoon hadn’t convened on what it all meant. Who knew what was going on in his head? You were no stranger to how deceitful men could be when they were after certain bodily pleasures. Unless Sunghoon said it in so many words, multiple times, you would not be a hundred percent sure he wasn’t only looking to get laid, or wanted someone to act like his girlfriend without the label and the obligations that came with it.

Because you basically were acting like his girlfriend, and he like your boyfriend. You always went to each other. Always, only each other. Whether he needed a second opinion on an outfit, you needed a rant session about your dissertation, either of you a really good orgasm, it was each other you went to.

You waited for him to initiate a conversation about the status of your relationship like one waits for church bells to ring at the turn of the hour—you knew it was coming, but the sound might be too much to bear. And the longer you had to wait, the more you dreaded it. Because how would you react when the time came? You didn’t trust yourself not to run away; neither did Minjeong.

The cold hadn’t come yet. You couldn’t let yourself feel the warmth unreservedly. It was all unpleasantly lukewarm.

Then you went home for a weekend.

It was a good friend from school’s birthday, and despite having spent a lot of time with Sunghoon at the expense of studying, you had done well this semester and thought you deserved a break. After having been away for so long, you had started to underestimate the power of your need for your parents’ approval over you. One small instance that your brother and many other people would’ve brushed off easily was enough to set you off—that same cold look of disappointment when you decided to be honest and told them one of your courses was deadly boring all while being unnecessarily complicated and you had received a low B-grade in it. They barely spoke to you for the rest of the evening.

Exams were a mere few weeks away when you got back. You buried yourself in work, forgot everything and everyone else, even Sunghoon, even yourself.

The cold hadn’t come yet, so you sought it out for yourself.

At the same time, you hadn’t indulged in enough introspection to realize how frustrated you had been at Sunghoon for not trying to create defined boundaries around your relationship. You were unable to do it yourself, you unrealistically wanted him to do the work for the both of you, you got upset when he didn’t. What you were able to do was make up reasons why he wasn’t giving you the what are we talk—he doesn’t like you that much, he just wants sex, he’s settling for you until he finds the next best thing, the real thing. This wasn’t leading anywhere, so you cut it off before he could.

You set foot in the library at seven thirty a.m. on a Monday and every following day of that week, then the next, then the next. He managed to pull you out every now and then—you weren’t that strong against his big pleading eyes, his soft messy hair, his warm hands that entirely covered yours. 

Oftentimes, you were too tired at the end of a long library day to have sex. Sunghoon never held it against you—he seemed more than happy to cook you dinner, let you fall asleep halfway during a movie you had chosen, and cuddle all night long. But your body burned with resentment at his mere presence in your bed, in your home, in your text messages. Who was he to stop you from studying, from achieving your goals, to distract you from that top grade just so he could get off? Even your friends and brother weren’t trying so hard to make you take breaks. The worry that furrowed his eyebrows, which you used to want to see fade away with a caress of your thumb, now infuriated you to no end, it seemed — to you — put-on. He kissed your neck and you wanted to push him away instead of melt into him like you had before.

It was his turn to leave for a weekend for an out-of-town hockey game, and you convinced yourself his absence came as a relief. But on the Sunday evening they got back, as you came out of the library, you spotted your brother waiting right outside of the building.

“Why is it so hard to reach you?” he said when he saw you in lieu of a greeting. “What’s the point of having a phone if you don’t even use it? I called you, like, five times.” “It was on airplane mode.” He rolled his eyes so hard, you could almost hear them moving beneath their lids. “What have you done to Sunghoon?” You stopped dead in your tracks. “Sunghoon? What about him?” you asked, chest constricting at the mere thought of him and at the implication that something had happened to him, even if you were the cause. He hadn’t said it in so many words, but it was clear the truth had been revealed to Jake, and for some reason, it didn’t surprise you. You knew they roomed together and assumed Sunghoon must’ve told him. You tried your best to take it in stride. “I thought we said the hockey team was off-limits after Heeseung,” he said sternly. “Also, Sunghoon, of all people?” he adds before you can say anything. “That’s like, my bro. And he’s the nicest guy ever. Not the perfect pick for one of your victims, I must say-” “Oh, please, he’s not a victim. He’s a consenting adult.” “Then why is he so upset over you spending more time studying than with him?” “That’s the male ego for you, Jakey.” Your brother sighed deeply. “He’s really hurt, Y/N. If you were going to reject him, you could’ve done it nicely.”

You frowned. “Who said anything about rejecting him?”

“You’ve shut him out. You’ve shut all of us out.” Jake was staring at you, trying to get you to look at him, but you kept your gaze on the ground and kicked non-existent pebbles around, hands hiding in your coat pockets. “You might not have meant it as one, but he took it as a rejection.”

You scoff. “There was nothing to reject. It’s not like we’re actually together.”

“Yeah, thanks for telling me anything was going on, by the way.”

“It wasn’t any of your business.”

“It is, ‘cause it concerns my sister and my best friend.”

“He’s your best friend?” you echo, a teasing smile on your lips. He rolls his eyes again.

“God, maybe you guys aren’t so bad together after all. But Y/N—I’m serious. You need to do something.”

“Why can’t he?”

“Because you’re the one who’s been fucking around.”

Ouch. “You’ve known about this whole thing for what, two days, and you’re already blaming me for the fact that it’s not going perfectly? How little do you think of me?”

“I don’t think little of you, Y/N, I just know you have a track record of not being serious about relationships.”

Your body tensed up. Maybe it had been a particularly long day. Maybe it had been a long time coming. Tears well up in your eyes—a sight you’ve not let your brother see in many, many years.

“You know what, fuck this, Jake. I’m stressed enough as it is. I’ve done my best with what I have, and you don’t get to pin this on me. As if I was the only person in that relationship. If Sunghoon has a problem, he can take it up with me directly.”

You walked away. Jake called after you once, and when you didn’t come back, caught up with you. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I don’t wanna upset you. I just-I hate seeing him hurt, you know? And you too.”

“I’m glad my feelings are of some importance to you.”

“Of course they are,” Jake said, too concerned to detect the sarcasm in your words. “And you’re right, I’ve only heard Sunghoon’s side of the story. But it really sounded like-”

“Listen, Jakey, I really don’t wanna do this right now. Let’s talk about it when exams are over. I can’t have anything else taking up mental space. I mixed up my Greek third declension endings earlier.”

“God forbid.”

After some arguing, Jake let you off the hook—“Just for now,” he said. You’d get him to recount his and Sunghoon’s conversation in excruciating detail later.

You come out of an evening of contemplation resenting Sunghoon for bitching about you to your brother, of all people. As if he had been begging on his hands and knees for your devotion, as if you had been cool-headed and detached and not thinking he’ll ask me to be his girlfriend any second now every time you spent time together. You told yourself you were well and truly done with him for the time being. If there was anything to salvage, that was future you’s problem.

But late on Thursday evening, Jay sent you a voice message, something he only did when he was gravely drunk, shouting over loud chatter and rap music that Sunghoon hadn’t shown up to a party and was apparently still practicing. You’d caught wind of their loss at the game, and even though your heart had swollen with concern for Sunghoon, very well aware of how important winning was to him, you’d managed to squash it down. You had bigger fish to fry, namely, an Italian written exam that made up 75% of your overall grade for that course. But after ten minutes of re-reading the same three lines of an article from Republicca, you couldn’t get the image of Sunghoon skirting endlessly around the ice rink and potentially hurting himself out of your head. You told yourself you only had this one exam left and plenty of time to revise for it, packed up your things and headed for the rink.

It was past eleven p.m. when you got there. The rest is history. 

Your grievances came out in an ugly way, but Sunghoon’s refusal to listen to you got the best of your nerves, and although you really did feel that your worry was more genuine than his, you didn’t truly believe that all he wanted from you was sex—at least, you hoped it wasn’t. It was the first time you ever saw any sort of negative emotion on Sunghoon’s handsome features, be it anger, sadness or pain. It tugged at your heartstrings, made you want to wrap him in your arms and get him away from whatever it was that tugged his eyebrows into a frown—even if that was you.

Now, as if the water has inched up your ankles and frozen over, your feet stay planted on the ice for a while after he’s stormed off. You don’t even realize you’re crying until a hot, salty teardrop falls on your lips.

Your feet regain control of themselves, and they seem to move of their own accord as they guide you right in front of Sunghoon’s dorm room. You’re barely conscious as your knuckles rasp against the door, and the tears that had fallen back behind your eyes spill out once more as soon as your eyes meet his. He’s just come out of the shower, a white towel wrapped around his hips, another one that he uses to dry his hair. His movements stop when he realizes who’s standing at his door, mouth falling slightly agape, chest visibly rising and falling. He’s so beautiful, you feel your heart breaking all over again.

Sobs pour uncharacteristically out of you, so much so that you have to hide your face behind your eyes. He ushers you in, holds you tight as everything flows out, the stress, the resentment, the loneliness, the longing. How could he be so close yet so far away this whole time? Did he want those miles of distance between you, or had you forced them upon him?

Sunghoon smoothes your hair down and shushes you, telling you it’s okay and that he’s here, voice strangled as if he’s on the verge of crying, too. A part of you still feels angry towards him, but the bigger part of you knows only he can give you the comfort you need.

“I missed you,” you say when you’ve calmed down partly. You only realize how true those words are once you’ve spoken them. You’ve missed waking up next to him, watching trashy reality TV together, taking coffee breaks that lasted too long in-between study sessions. You’ve missed the scent of his hair, the scent of his skin, you’ve missed watching the way his back muscles shift at the slightest of movements, feeling the weight of his head as he lay on your chest. All for a bunch of As you would’ve gotten without exerting yourself so much anyway.

“I missed you too, baby. Where did you go?” Just like that, you break down again, and he dissolves into apologies. “You’re here now, it’s all that matters,” he whispers against your hair.

“You didn’t see them, Hoon. You didn’t see the way they looked at me,” you say, struggling to speak, unsure you’re even making any sense but unable to stop. “I got As in everything, I worked so hard. Just one B, one week where I had four things due at the same time. Their faces, Hoon, like they were thinking, what was the point of letting me do this degree if I wasn’t even going to excel in it?”

“But you do excel in it, Y/N. You’re amazing at what you do. And even if you weren’t, you love it, and that’s what matters the most.”

“Not to them, it doesn’t.”

“Then forget them.”

“I can’t, Hoon,” you say, voice trembling. “I just can’t. I need them to be proud of me.”

“Isn’t it enough to be proud of yourself?”

“I wish it was.”

“Does it help if I tell you how proud I am of you and of how hard you’ve worked?”

He doesn’t see it, your face is still hidden in the crook of his shoulder, but a small smile makes its way to your lips. “A bit.”

“Then I’ll tell you everyday until you don’t need their approval anymore. They don’t deserve you, Y/N. They don’t even see what an amazing, beautiful, smart daughter they have. Or her sort-of-okay brother.” You laugh, and so does he. Sunghoon’s words and soothing touch against your back already alleviate the weight on your heart. “But I see it.”

You lift your head to look at Sunghoon. His eyes are glassy. “You see how amazing, beautiful and smart Jake is?”

He laughs again as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, exactly.” The way he looks at you makes you wish you could go back to the day you met him and right all of your wrongs. No more hiding or running away. You only want to stay under that gaze of his. But sadness soon replaces the joy in his eyes. “You mean so much more to me than you give yourself credit for, Y/N. This has never been just about sex for me. Not even for a second.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Then what has it been about?” 

He frowns like a student in an advanced math class who’s just been asked what three plus three is—isn’t it obvious?

“I love you.”

Your eyes dart between his as if searching for any trace of deceit there. Of course, you don’t find any—because there hasn’t been any since the start. You’d let your own fears invent things that weren’t there. Your lips tremble and you find yourself bawling on his shoulder once more, your tears like a well that digs deeper and deeper so as to never run out of water.

“I hope these are good tears,” Sunghoon says light-heartedly, but you can detect the nervousness behind his words. You nod your head vigorously, willing yourself to say something back, but your tears overflow, make your breath hitch.

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” you manage in between sobs.

“I didn’t think it was the kind of thing you wanted to hear,” he explains.

“I was waiting for you to say something.”

“I didn’t know. I thought I was being obvious enough.”

“You probably were. I was the one who couldn’t see it,” you admit.

“I thought you didn’t want me like that.”

“I thought you didn’t want me like that.”

Sunghoon chuckles, a sound of relief. “I’ve wanted you like that since the start.”

“I think I have too.”

“You think?”

You lift your head again and when your eyes meet Sunghoon’s, it feels like coming out of your hiding place hours after the round of hide-and-seek was over. He hadn’t forgotten to come and find you. He was waiting for you to reveal yourself.

Which goes against the rules of hide-and-seek, but you don’t blame him.

You smile; he smiles, deep dimples carving crescents into his cheeks. “I love you, too.”

You hadn’t realized how cold your hands were until Sunghoon found them.

--

Everything after that was a blurry mess of tangled limbs, warm kisses, happy tears and relieved laughter.

Your touch had always been intoxicating, but Sunghoon was particularly sensitive to it that night. The mix of not having felt you close in weeks and the heightened emotions driven by your confessions made his skin tingle everywhere it came in contact with yours. He’d never slept so little without regretting it in the morning.

It goes without saying that most of the night was not spent talking, but you still had things you needed to discuss. The two of you laid out all of your fears, and Sunghoon was immensely relieved to finally get a glimpse into that mind of yours. He made you promise to always tell him what was going on, and he promised you you’d never be too much for him. Always just right.

Now, he gets to wait outside of your exam hall with your favorite flowers in hand, to put his arm around your shoulders during movie nights instead of holding your hand beneath the blanket, to kiss you over the barrier at the end of a hockey game he won. Heeseung’s narrowed eyes at the sight of the two of you is an added bonus.

You text him that you’ll hang around the locker rooms after the game so that you can head to the party together. The end of December is nearing and you can’t wait for the new year, for twelve whole months of not hiding your feelings for Sunghoon from anyone, not even from yourself, least of all from him. At least, that’s what you told him in a sappy, drunken voice message at two a.m. the previous night when the girls made you drink a bottle of prosecco to yourself—their way of congratulating you for an arduous but successful exam period.

He steps out of the locker rooms with Jake and Jay. You’ve never looked quite as pretty, face lighting up as you spot the three of them, his jersey on your shoulders. You’d worn it during your last exam—“I thought it might bring me luck to wear a pretty boy’s name on my back,” you’d told him, to which he’d replied that it was good practice for when you actually took his last name. You’d looked away, fighting a smile.

Now your smile is full-blown as you look at him, but the downside of being an official couple is that Jake has now more material to tease the both of you with.

“Oh my God, you waited for me, what a sweet sister I have been blessed with!” he exclaims, arms outstretched as he barrels towards you.

“Fuck off, Sim,” you say but accept his hug nonetheless. “Nice game.”

“I know.” He pulls away and ruffles your hair. Jay nods at you like you’re someone he shared a class with back in second year and not his friend of almost three years.

As if on cue, just as Sunghoon reaches you and envelops you in a hug, Jake turns around and yells loud enough for all the players spilling out of the locker rooms, “And don’t forget to wear protection! I’m not ready to be an uncle yet.”

“That’s disgusting, Jakey,” you yell back, and he smiles proudly. Sunghoon had never thought the day would come where you’d initiate a kiss in a room full of people—he’s on cloud nine when you take his head in your hands and press your lips to his, murmuring praises about how well he played.

“It was all for you, baby,” he says, trying to appear cool even though a blush is creeping up his ears. 

“Not for the recruiter of the national team?” you asked with a smirk.

He smiles, shrugging. “Maybe a bit for him too. You’re the one I want to impress.”

“Consider me impressed.” You stand on your tiptoes to kiss him a second time.

You head towards your friends, hands warm against each other.

--

In classic mysterious Jay fashion, he organizes a New Year’s Eve party that he can’t attend himself.

He’s on holiday in some exotic country halfway across the world with his family, but he’s offered up their house for a celebration and tasked Jake with making sure no one trashes anything.

The party started three hours ago, and you’re sure it’s in full swing by now—you’re sure everyone is having a jolly old time, getting drunk enough to welcome the new year with a hangover, searching the crowds of people for the person they’ll want to kiss at midnight. You’re sure that people are having so much fun that whoever notices your and Sunghoon’s absence might think you’re missing out.

And maybe you are—but there’s nowhere you’d rather be than where you are now, straddling your boyfriend’s lap in the backseat of his car. He’s a little bit tipsy, you’re a little bit tipsy, it’s obvious in the way you kiss each other, messy, impatient, interspersed with giggles and with perhaps too much tongue. Your hands are not much more polite, harshly grabbing at his hair just the way you know he likes it, and neither are his, having snuck their way underneath your black satin dress long ago already.

When Sunghoon pulled you away from the party, you’d appropriately exclaimed, “But the party?”, to which he replied, “Fuck the party.” It wasn’t like him to curse, or to have anything but a bashful smile on his lips, like a guilty dog who’d been caught doing something it knew it shouldn’t, even though he was just standing there, so when you see his stoney expression, you think something serious must’ve happened.

The something serious turned out to be “that guy who was touching your shoulder.”

Clearly, it’d take Sunghoon a little bit more time to be entirely secure in your relationship. In the meantime, you didn’t mind letting him fuck his jealousy away.

Although he’d been the one to whisk you away, you’re the one who finds yourself begging for him to speed things up. Your flimsy thong does absolutely nothing, so you’re basically grinding yourself bare against his clothed erection—and it’s not like the fabric of his suit trousers is very thick, either. A girl can only put up with so much dry humping before having her boyfriend’s dick inside of her goes from being a want to a need.

“Need you, Hoon,” you coo against the shell of his ear. A few words usually do the trick, but Sunghoon has other plans tonight.

“What do you need, baby?”

“You.”

“I’m right here,” he says, punctuating his words with a squeeze of your ass.

“You know what I mean,” you say, practically whining.

“I’m not sure I do, actually.”

You pull away and, looking at him directly, say, “God, Sunghoon. I want you to fuck me.” His shit-eating grin simultaneously makes you roll your eyes and goes straight to your core.

“That I can do.”

He keeps one hand on your ass as he loosens his tie first, then undoes his belt and trouser buttons. His slacks and underwear pool around his ankles, and all he needs to do is hike your dress up around your hips and push your thong to the side. You wrap a hand around his dick, but your mind is too hazy to do much with it—he’s started rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb, the pressure and speed as perfect as it always is. You let your forehead fall against his shoulders and moan unabashedly, thankful he decided to park the car far enough away from the house.

“You like it when I touch you like this, baby?”

“I love it, Hoon.”

He hums his approval. “You’re so perfect. So perfect and so wet for me, isn’t that right?”

You start to say “yes,” but you interrupt yourself with a gasp. You hold onto Sunghoon’s arm, feel his muscles move under your palm as he slips two fingers inside of you without warning. “Please,” you choke out, a tight knot already forming in your stomach.

“Please what?”

“Need you. Need your dick, baby.”

He smiles as if endeared, but his words couldn’t be more different. “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before going off with some random guy the one minute I was somewhere else.”

“He’s just-fuck, Hoon, he’s just a mutual friend of Jay and I. Fuck, right there, baby.” Forming coherent sentences when Sunghoon’s fingers flick against that perfect spot deep inside you again and again is no easy task, but you need to defend yourself.

“Right there?” he echoes, voice a whisper against your ear. When you nod, eyes shut tight, he slips his fingers out. You look at him, betrayed. “That’s too bad. Why don’t you ask him to touch you right there, hm?”

You don’t know how much of his jealousy is put-on to get you to beg and how much of it is real. You make a mental note to have a conversation with him about this later—right now, you don’t mind playing along if it means your boyfriend will deign to fuck you. You know he wants to, he’s just making you work harder.

You move your hand up and down along his dick, brush his reddening tip with your palm every now and then. “He couldn’t touch me like you, Hoon.” You lean in and trail kisses along his neck, his jawline, his ears. “Can’t fuck me like you, either.”

With exams, hockey matches and any other responsibilities out of the way for winter break, the two of you had had an obscene amount of sex in the past couple of weeks. You’d done other things, of course, namely having much-needed conversations with each other, your friends, your families. Sunghoon’s mother was overjoyed at the news, glad her “duckling had finally met someone” — her words — and his sister kept stealing his phone from him to talk to you when you were on FaceTime. You and Jake had gone home for two days for Christmas, and although Jake had needed to pep talk you into it for over an hour, you managed to tell them that you wouldn’t stand for being belittled for your life choices anymore.

But in-between these conversations, you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. You’ve grown more comfortable with each passing day, both of you bolder in vocalizing what you want and how you feel. And so, you quickly found out that your Sunghoon, your shy, sweet Sunghoon, got off like nothing else on salacious words. In line with his possessiveness, he loved hearing about how he and only he could do these things to you; in line with your need for validation, you could practically come from hearing his praises alone.

“That’s right, baby.” Like the gentleman he is, he fishes out the condom wrapper he had gotten ready from his trouser pocket, tears it open with his mouth and rolls the condom on with one hand, his other one still preoccupied with you. “Come here, my love,” he whispers, his sweet tone worlds away from his previous teasing, almost cocky one. He grabs your hips, guides you closer to him and lines your entrance with the tip of his dick. He lets you go at your own pace, rubs your thighs soothingly as you sink down onto him slowly and adjust to his size. You throw your head back, mind hazy with pleasure as you move your hips back-and-forth against him.

“You feel so good, baby. You’re doing so well for me.” His words make you pick up your pace, and you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers grabbing at his hair and sides of your faces pressed against each other as you start lifting your hips and sinking back down. Sunghoon’s hands hold your ass tightly, guiding you up and down. It’s hot in the car; sweat runs down your hairline and your back, air is running low, the windows are fogging up, but it only adds to the dizzying bliss growing in you. Even the seatbelt receiver digging into your knee doesn’t bother you.

“Feels so good, Hoon,” you moan.

“I know, baby.”

Your hours of studying everyday means your thighs aren’t the strongest—good thing for you that your boyfriend has enough stamina and strength for the both of you. As soon as he feels you tiring, your rhythm becoming slower and more irregular, he picks up your slack. One hand on your back, one arm around your waist, he presses you close to him, his hold on you so tight you can barely move. He bucks his hips harshly into yours, faster and faster, making you cry out with every brush of his tip against that spot deep inside of you. Your whole body shakes with pleasure as your moans grow higher and louder, until the tension in your stomach hits its apex and unravels. A gasp leaves your throat as you come around him, but he’s unrelenting, the overstimulation quickly making tears form in your eyes. Strings of curses and praises of how perfect you are spill out of Sunghoon’s mouth disorderly as he reaches his own end.

Together, you take your time catching your breath, his fingers roaming your back while you trail soft kisses all over his face and neck. “My pretty baby,” he whispers, and it makes your heart swell with so much affection for him that you press your lips to his, shutting him up in case he says something that actually has you exploding.

You wish you could spend some more time just the two of you before returning to the party, but when you check your phone, it’s already five minutes to midnight—he puts his clothes back on as you fix your hair in a rush, Sunghoon helping you wipe away traces of mascara under your eyes, and together, run back to the living room where everyone has gathered. You find Minjeong, Yunjin, Chaewon and Jake, who has Jay on FaceTime. It’s only five p.m. where he is.

Everyone counts down from ten together. The first thing you do in the new year is kiss Park Sunghoon—and you’ll make sure it’s the last thing you do, too.

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[radishaur]

ʚɞ butterflies ʚɞ

Warnings: slight spoilers Genre: fluff Characters: Luffy, Zoro, & Law Summary: How they realize they have feelings for you (touch edition) Author's Note: I have like 2 other longer works I should be writing for but instead I'm doing this, so enjoy! Might do the other love languages/senses(?) later if people want. masterlist

Luffy loves physical touch with everyone. He also never asks permission first, just sends himself flying into people, so you would definitely have to be used to him just wrapping himself around you.

As a result, I think there are so many opportunities for him to accidentally realize his feelings through touch because he's just always touching. However, I think that when it comes to a partner, Luffy would really value making you feel safe. We've seen how devastated he was after he wasn't able to keep his crew safe in Saboady and even worse after Ace, so I think his first aha moment would have to revolve around that.

~

Luffy always wound up on some wild adventure no matter what island they visited. This time, the crew had planned for it and assigned you to go with him. The idea was that you would keep him out of trouble, but who were they kidding. It's Luffy.

He's walking around with you when all of a sudden he sees something further into town that he has to see right this second. He doesn't even think twice about grabbing you closer with one arm and beginning to slingshot his other one to propel the two of you up.

"Hold on tight!"

He's expecting you to protest, as most of the crew usually does when they're about to get flung to god knows where on his whim, but instead, you simply wrap your arms around his neck and get as close as you possibly can.

He lets go and hears you laughing, of all things, so he looks down and he could swear his heart stuttered.

You were looking right at him as you giggled, high on the excitement of your predicament. You don't look even slightly scared as your approach gets closer and closer, instead, you're looking at him with so much adoration that he feels like he can't breathe. He wraps his arm around you tighter and he's extra careful as he lands to cushion the impact for you.

"You didn't complain," he finds himself saying, arm still tight around you.

"What good would that do?" you ask, the last of your giggles subsiding. You turn to him then, your smile growing as you add, "Besides, I know you'd never let me get hurt."

All of the places where his skin meets yours feel like it's on fire and his heart aches all of a sudden in a way he's not used to.

He lets you go, his body tingling where your body no longer presses against his and the two of you go on with your day, but he can't help thinking about it. The way you had curled into him, put your trust in him to keep you safe, it fills his heart with a pleasure he hasn't felt before and he finds himself wanting to feel it again.

Over the day, he finds every excuse he can to keep touching you like that. He finds more faraway places that look interesting. He grabs your hand to show you something cool he saw. He even insists on climbing onto the rooftops and using that as an excuse to hold you close, just so you don't fall. His heart still races each time and it eats at him well into the night when he's back on the Sunny.

He knows even from the first touch that something is different. He doesn't feel like this with his other crewmembers, but it takes a discussion with Robin to finally realize that he likes you. When he does, he's quick to find you and pull you close again, reveling in the feeling now that it has a name. He almost shouts it out right then and there, but he decides to give it some time.

He still has to become the Pirate King after all.

Zoro is not a touchy person, but he's not opposed to it either. He's become more comfortable with it, you kind of have to if you're on Luffy's crew in my opinion, but he still doesn't seek it out himself.

You'd probably be the one to touch him more than the other way around, but I think the places he lets you touch and how long is what would set his realization moment apart.

~

Zoro can feel the sweat dripping down his back as the sun beats down on him. He'd been training for hours now on the deck of the Sunny as everyone had some time to relax.

He stops when Sanji comes out to announce that lunch is ready. He sets down the weights he's using and everyone starts to eat. He's quick to join in, hungry after a hard workout, but his back is aching. It's something he's used to, but it hurts a little extra today.

He rubs his back a few times and readjusts his sitting position and the rest of lunch is uneventful. He's about to continue his workout when he hears you call his name.

"Zoro!"

He turns and you're right in front of him.

"Before you start, I couldn't help but notice it looks like your back hurts. Do you want a massage?" you ask, motioning to your own back as you mimic the movements he had made during lunch.

"She's very good at them," Robin calls, observing from her favorite spot under the orange trees.

He hesitates. He trusts the crew, especially you, but the thought of someone touching his back makes him grit his teeth. Scars on the back are a swordsman's shame, after all. He's always been cautious of letting anyone near his back and today is no exception. Thankfully, you seem to sense his turmoil because you smile politely and say, "It's no pressure. If you change your mind, just let me know."

He goes back to training until dinner and he can definitely feel the ache in his back now, but he's still insistent that this is the burden of the best. Becoming the greatest swordsman requires discipline and sometimes pain. He won't let Luffy down, won't let him bear his pain alone, so he shrugs it off and goes to bed.

Or, he tries at least. After a few hours with no luck, he finally relents. He knows that tonight is your turn to be on watch and he hasn't heard you come back down to switch out, so begrudgingly he makes his way up to the crow's nest where he knows you'll be. If he was going to let anyone touch his back, he would prefer it be you out of anyone.

"Oh, hi Zoro," you say, surprised to see him up but seemingly not annoyed by his presence, "What are you doing up?"

"Can't sleep," is all he says, closing the door behind him as he settles in next to you.

You smile, adjusting yourself so that you're facing him. "I've been there," you hum, letting your face rest on your knees as you look out the windows to the sea.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before he works up the courage to say, "If the offer is still available, I wouldn't mind the massage."

He's surprised to see your face light up, grinning as you immediately agree and ask him to turn around. You tell him that you'll be careful and he tells you to do your worst.

The moment he feels your hands on his back, he begins to think that maybe he made a terrible mistake. It feels good and he can feel the ache in his back start to dissipate as you work out the stress in his muscles, but he also can't help the way his heart skips a beat and his mind starts to malfunction. He starts overthinking just why he felt so confident letting you touch him like this when he can't even imagine letting someone else touch his back for a fraction of the time you are. It stresses him out so much that he can feel his back tensing.

"Zoro, you're supposed to relax," you tease, and he can feel himself flush as he grumbles something under his breath about how it's not his fault that he's got so much stress worked up in him.

You laugh at him, which only makes his embarrassment worse, but you begin moving slower and taking more time to delicately work out the knots. You must think that you're helping but it only makes his heart flip more.

Eventually, he finds himself relaxing into your touch. Robin was right about your skill, your hands working out not only his physical stress but his mental stress as well.

He doesn't think he's ever felt so content.

You massage him for so long that he loses track of time. At some point, you begin making conversation with him and it helps him focus less on his erratic heartbeat and nerves. Eventually, there's a knock on the crow's nest door and Robin peeks her head in.

You stop at that point, smiling and greeting her warmly and Zoro is embarrassed at just how much he misses your hands on him. Robin looks over at him finally and he can feel his ears heat up as she smirks at him, as if she knows something he doesn't. You say goodbye to them both, telling Zoro that you hope he can get some sleep, and then he's alone with Robin.

"I see you changed your mind?" she mused, a tease in her voice that made him blush even harder.

When he was finally back in bed, his back was the loosest it had felt in a long time, but he still couldn’t sleep. He kept thinking about your hands on his back, warm and gentle but firm, and he cursed silently into the room. He'd been in denial for too long and this had only opened the floodgates.

Law does not get touchy with his crew. Ever.

He loves his crew, don't get me wrong, but he keeps his cards close to his chest. The only time he would touch you or you him would be in some kind of emergency situation or something medically related. I think it would take a situation like that for Law to break his walls down a little bit and have to touch you, out of necessity, for him to realize his feelings.

~

Law is no stranger to late nights doing work and tonight is no exception. There are only so many hours in the day and it's his job as Captain of the Heart Pirates to be prepared for any situation, so if he has to sacrifice some sleep to do that, then so be it.

What he's not used to is other people being up when he does.

He had worked well into the night, until his eyes could barely stay open, and had finally decided to head back to his room instead of falling asleep at his office desk. On the way there, he noticed a light still on in the library.

Thinking that someone had left it on, he muttered under his breath about it but went in to turn it off. He was about to make a mental note to remind his crew to not waste energy when he heard something shuffle.

He made his way over to the couch where he heard the noise and was surprised to find you curled up asleep, except you looked miserable. He called your name out as he knelt down to inspect you closer.

"Captain?" you asked, eyes cracking open as if you had felt his presence.

"You look awful," he said, his voice dry as he asked, "Are you sick?"

You had the decency to look sheepish at his question, which confirmed what he already knew: you were definitely sick. "I came to see you, but you looked so hard at work, I didn't want to disturb you...," you explained, your voice hoarse.

"You should have just come in," he scolded, frowning as he asked, "Why are you here and not back in your room?"

You avoided his eyes, seemingly embarrassed as you answered, "I tried. Couldn't make it back."

He sighed, all his exhaustion having left upon finding you in this state. "Can you sit up?" he asked, already assessing your symptoms as he watched you comply with his request.

You were shivering and even from his spot kneeling next to you, he could feel the warmth you were emitting. It also seemed like you were sweating slightly, so the most likely culprit was a fever. Normally, he would have just used his devil fruit powers to get you back to your room, but judging by the wince you did as you sat up, you also had a headache. Using his room would only amplify that pressure, even if only for a moment, and he didn't want to cause you any unnecessary discomfort or pain, so the old-fashioned method it was.

"I'm assuming you can't walk since you couldn't make it back to your room yourself, so I'll have to carry you," he explained, twisting so his back was facing you as he said, "Get on my back."

There were a few moments of silence where he almost repeated himself, thinking maybe you hadn't heard him before he felt your weight on his back and your arms loosely wrap around his shoulders. Your breath brushed against his ear and he almost shivered as he stood up, adjusting your body against himself so that you didn't have to hold yourself up.

"Sorry, Captain," you apologized, attempting to readjust some of your weight back to yourself. He easily shifted you back, his grip on your leg tightening slightly so you didn't fall. He didn't know why, but the adjustment made him all the more aware of just how much the two of you were touching. His face warmed just slightly as his heart skipped a fraction of a second.

"Just stay still," he scolded, but it didn't have anywhere near as much heat as he intended.

You didn't respond after that, seemingly content to let him carry you the rest of the way. At some point, you let your head rest on his shoulder. Your breath ghosted across his ear with each exhale and he couldn’t stop his heart from racing.

When he finally got you back to your room, he carefully dropped you off onto the bed with a promise that he would be right back. When he returned, he had his stethoscope, a thermometer, and some basic flu remedies.

"Take this," Law said, handing you some medicine and a glass of water to wash it down with. You sat up from your curled-up position in the bed and accepted it, swallowing the pill with only a little bit of a struggle.

"Is it bad?" you asked, your voice quiet.

"No, but I need to check your temperature and make sure there's no fluid in your lungs," he explained, holding up the thermometer first.

You leaned forward, letting him place the thermometer on your forehead. It blinked back at him and while you definitely were running a fever, it wasn't deadly. He told you as much and you smiled slightly at that.

"I need to check your lungs now, so I need to be able to access your chest," he said, doing his best to keep as professional as possible despite how irrationally his heart was beating.

You hummed, unbuttoning and unzipping your boiler suit just enough to expose the top of your chest to him. Law sat next to you on the bed, angling himself so that he was facing you, and began checking your chest for any odd breathing sounds.

His heart nearly jumped out of his chest when he felt your fingers graze the skin just above his top where his tattoo peeks out.

He's not done checking your lungs yet, but he freezes. His first instinct is to pull away immediately but for some reason, he can't make himself move as he feels your fingers trace the top of his tattoo. He swallows thickly when your fingers drop down into your lap and you murmur, "They're so beautiful up close."

He knows that the fever is clouding your mind right now. He knows you're acting like this because you're sick and that you would never say that to him were you not, but his face goes so red he thinks he might have caught your fever and he can't seem to form the right words, so instead he just continues his check on your lungs.

There's nothing wrong with them and he finally finds the strength to move and stand up from the bed. His heart is still pumping a million miles a minute and he can feel the tips of his ears heating up, but he tells himself that he must be sick too. That's the only way to explain what he just felt.

As he's leaving you call out to him.

"Law?"

His heart stops again, hearing his name fall from your lips. He doesn't say anything, afraid he might not even be able to, but he stops and turns to look at you. You're still in your boiler suit, but you've curled back up into the bed. You're still looking at him though, and he can't seem to take his eyes off you as you smile at him and say, "Thank you. You're my hero."

He doesn't sleep at all that night. He checked periodically for any signs of a fever of his own and found nothing, even the next day. The feel of your fingers grazing his chest is still lingering even days later and he can't seem to meet your eyes the same way he used to. He realizes how absolutely fucked he was when he finds himself missing your breath on his neck and wanting your fingers to trace his other tattoos as well.

ღ radishaur — i do not own any of these characters. do not plagiarize. please enjoy and remember to be respectful! 

[yolli-es]

Hi! This is my first request also i love your writing so much! I've been looking everywhere for a nsfw alphabet headcanons for jinx there isn't any can you please make one i don.t think anyone understand or describe her the way you do

Also don't push yourself!

NSFW Jinx alphabet🔥

Tags: NO spoilers for season 2

I did!! It was an interesting experience for me and thanks for the kind words. In fact, I have a problem with understanding the characters and it is very nice to hear this 😅

PERSON WHO ASKED SOMETHING SIMILAR: Are you still waiting for an answer to your request? Most likely, I will write the same thing 👉🏻👈🏻 You can also answer anonymously.

Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Jinx spends most of her time proving her love for you. Sex is no exception. It's just another of the many ways to say: "I don't just love you; I obsessed you." That's why, in the moments after intimacy, Jinx finally calms down. She just spent all her energy on pleasing you and got it in return. There is no better confirmation of your feelings for her right now. You can just look at each other; she won't rush at you to touch you like she would at any other moment.

Don't worry, she'll do it later.

Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Choose and Jinx are not compatible. She will never tell you what she likes most about you; it's too complicated. Hands, neck, legs, hair, belly, and absolutely everything will be honored with attention from Jinx before and after sex. She also sincerely does not understand why others choose a favorite part of their beloved if they can fuck all parts?

It's much easier for her to say what she doesn't like about herself. Her breasts are her main complex, and if you say something like "I like big breasts,"  "my exes had huge breasts," or simply "between big and small, I'll choose big," expect a bunch of strange decisions from Jinx to hide her "flaw."

Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

She will never think twice before cumming. Jinx doesn't care where, how, or where she does it. If you like it when she does it in certain places, she will remember and will definitely do it... However, if you don't like it when she cums somewhere, then... accept it; she will simply forget about it until you throw a real tantrum and you won't start threatening her.

Jinx has trouble remembering "no" and is great at focusing on "yes."

Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Jinx has a strange turn on when playing with her guns. She has imagined you saddle her with a gun in your hand more than once. She finds it oddly arousing to think about the possibility of a purely accidental death or injury while you're so close. The possibility of being blown up is also close to her.

But all of this will remain a fantasy. You are unlikely to agree to point a gun at her, which Jinx is well aware of. Besides, it's too dangerous for you. What if you go crazy and shoot yourself in the foot?

Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

You are her number one in everything, and she will do anything just to keep you from finding out. Jinx thinks that her lack of experience will make her a terrible partner in your eyes—a bad choice, and you will absolutely never fuck her. You will definitely understand that she is inexperienced when Jinx cannot pull off your bra. She has never worn one, and I swear she was ready to burst into tears at that moment.

After a couple of "training sessions," Jinx becomes the best lover possible. She learns quickly and does exactly what you want her to do because of her excellent understanding of people and her huge intellect.

Favorite position (this goes without saying)

She likes everything as long as you touch her. Jinx won't mind hanging upside down if it means constant physical contact.

Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Until Jinx gained enough (by her standards) experience, she took any joke in bed personally. Don't joke with her in the beginning; it might trigger voices in her head.

Later, when her skills allowed her to make mush out of you, Jinx began to like sudden stupid phrases. Especially while you were riding her. Jinx is not very goofy, but she starts to enjoy breaking your serious mood with the stupidest joke. You can start so hot and continue so intensely, but at some point Jinx will whisper in your ear: "What do you call a person who runs away from a cannibal? Fast food"

She lost a couple of orgasms, but you laughed! It's a small loss for a great cause.

Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Jinx's hair is really long, and I believe that her pubic hair was just as long. Okay, not that long. But Jinx has definitely never shaved. One day she got the idea to paint them green, but she got a minor chemical burn, and now she is afraid and ashamed to do anything with them.

You can ask her to shave, and then do it yourself, because she will definitely cut off a piece of herself without help.

Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Jinx is focused on your feelings and simply adapts to them. If you want it hot and fast, she will do it; if you want it slow and gentle, she will do it. You don't even have to ask. And believe me, she will like it. Jinx will definitely not deprive herself of pleasure; she can just enjoy any interaction as long as you are delighted.

Jinx herself doesn't put much meaning into sex; there is no special romance in it that she could not achieve without getting into your pants. After all, she grew up in a city where they make a living from it.

Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Jinx did this a couple of times as a teenager, mostly out of curiosity. Mylo ruins her mood every time, and it never worked.

After her first orgasm with you, she tried to repeat something similar on her own. She missed your hands, your breath, and your giggles. She couldn't cum.

Jinx will quickly stop doing it.

Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Jinx is obsessed with you. She spends most of her time expressing her gratitude to you for all the good things you give her.

And she loves you even more when you do the same.

It's okay if you get cruel and a little over the top at this point; Jynx will still love it. She will never feel as loved and needed as when you are completely obsessed with her. Sincerely, not when she asks you to. Bite her to mark her, dominate her, and constantly whisper: "You are mine, and that will never change." Oh, she will cum so hard.

Location (favorite places to do the do)

On the table in her workshop. Jinx will also call you her project or her favorite gun.

Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you take the initiative. Any touch to her with a subtext will be met with active actions. She feels your mood well.

Jinx will also try to tease you if she feels like you've been too cold towards her lately. She firmly believes that this is a radical way to love and will definitely remind you of her devotion.

No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Want to pick a fight with Jinx? Ask her for group sex.

Jinx won't share with you. Forget about a threesome.

Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Jinx will always be the first to initiate oral sex. She enjoys it while she's doing it and goes crazy when she's receiving it. It's her favorite. She's also damn good at it; oral wasn't bad even the very first time.

It must just be a talent—another one in Jinx's stack.

Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

The one you need. She won't be too shy about being rude to you if you moan louder and rub against her more actively.

Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Jinx herself is very active, and her life is quite eventful. And yet this does not mean that she is a fan of it.

Usually you have quick sex just because you want it; Jinx prefers to wait for the moment when it will be possible to do everything she wants. Bite, rub, look, and lick, enjoying the moment, not just to stop the itching.

Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Experiments? Yes. Risk? Never.

You will try everything; Jinx is a searching nature. She will definitely tie you up, spank you, not let you cum, and try different toys on you. You will go through all this together and more than once.

But Jinx would never risk the safety of your pussy. To do so much for your safety, only to be able to lose you so stupidly? No, never.

And no threesomes either.

Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Jinx runs around Zaun with three guns and a bunch of bullets. She's incredibly resilient. You'll sweat more with her than you would on a Silko or Sevika mission. She won't leave you alone until she feels satisfied. Just when you feel like you're getting used to long sex sessions, she finds a way to knock you off your feet again. You tried to wear her out by having Jinx lift you.

Fatal mistake, terrible decision. That's why Jinx is a genius in your little family.

Her body got used to your weight pretty quickly and only strengthened her, making your sex not only long and exhausting, but also a little more difficult for you.

Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Jinx only uses them when she thinks you're getting bored in sex. Jinx will also definitely make a couple of sex toys, more for the sake of interest than sexual desire. She won't use it on her own, but how can she deny you the pleasure of torturing her a little with a toy? She'll definitely enjoy it too much, and control of the situation will pass into her hands as quickly as it left. 

Unfair (how much they like to tease)

For Jinx, teasing = prelude. She won't start until she realizes how hard you're want to coming. Sometimes it can go on too long, and you'll be hysterical and start crying. Jinx didn't want that; she just got carried away, so she'll definitely pay for it tenfold.

Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Scream or she will make you.

Your moans and screams are the only way to show others that you adore her without endangering the lives of others. It's also a great way to relieve stress.

Jinx will definitely enjoy it; don't hold back.

Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

One time you accidentally called her by her real name in the midst of oral sex. She immediately stopped and just looked at you for a few seconds before she started crying. You didn't finish that time.

"Powder" has become your stop word.

X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

5.25 feet of slender body, long fingers, and a nimble tongue. There's a lot to work with.

Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Jinx has a low libido, and before meeting you, sex was not a concern to her. Even as a teenager, when hormones were raging, Jinx remained indifferent to intimacy. Now, you can excite her with just a hint. A light touch, a piquant pose, or an ambiguous phrase will make Jinx immediately become active.

Other people doing similar things irritate her.

Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After sex, Jinx will lie next to you, just watching. She will be strangely silent and soothingly sweet. Very soon it will stop stressing you out and make you calm down. She will not close her eyes until she is sure that you have fallen asleep. This will last for a couple more hours before she can fall asleep.

Jinx always had trouble sleeping, but when she's next to you, her problem disappears.

I hope the topic of sex is covered and I didn't miss anything 🙏🏻🙏🏻

[urhoneycombwitch]

I've been thinking non-stop lately about like cocky soft dom Eddie and how he'd just be so teasing all the time 🫠😮‍💨

Could you write about virgin/inexperienced reader making out with him for the first time and getting overwhelmed and accidentally finishing while grinding on his thigh? And he's just a teeny bit mean about it?? (but not actually mean because he's a sweetheart)

foreword: sure can. here’s a quickie for u <3

cw: soft dom!Eddie, w a teasing edge to him, inexperienced!R, thigh grinding, coming in pants (R), R referred to w/ pet names, one “good girl” usage

___

You didn’t know it could feel like this.

Sex has always been… mediocre, in the past. Only one previous partner (before Eddie) really put in any effort, and even then, you just assumed sex wasn’t your forte. Did more for the other person rather than provide any true pleasure on your end.

But with Eddie? Jesus, all it took these days was a stiff breeze and a glimpse of his handsome profile. Or the silver hoops walking up the curve of his ear. Or his fingers splayed around a mug. Really any part of him had the potential to speak to the heartbeat between your legs.

A heartbeat that was currently reaching critical mass levels of pounding, pressed against the solid weight of Eddie’s thigh. You’re both stretched out on the living room couch, forgotten movie on mute in the background; his arm around your waist supports the rocking movement of your hips, while his other hand rests warm at your neck.

By the feel of it, you’ve soaked through your own layers of underwear and denim onto Eddie’s tented jeans- and by the sound of it, Eddie is painfully turned on.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He pauses kissing you breathless for a moment, pulling away just slightly to look down at you, black pupils lust-blown. “Y’okay?”

He’s sweet to check in but honestly, if his tongue isn’t in your mouth in the next five seconds you’re gonna lose it. As a response, you lift one of your hands from where they’re bunched in his t-shirt to the back of his head, pulling his face towards your own.

Eddie makes a small noise of surprise (you’re rarely so pushy and it’s doing insane things to his chemical makeup. And his current, intense boner.) but gets with the program quickly, licking back into your mouth, gripping tighter at your hip, thumb of the hand near your face slipping just under your jaw.

Your heart rate rivals his own, thudding under the pad of his finger, nearly-painful at the apex of your thighs; he bites at your bottom lip, which zings straight to your clit, and you let out a watery gasp, half his name and half desperation- “Eddie-”

“Yeah, sweetheart. I got you,” he murmurs against your lips, slotting his thigh further up, changing the angle to better assist the movement of your hips. “Go on. Make yourself feel good.”

A rare occasion where you don’t need to be told twice, his words brand you with heat, and your climbing adrenaline makes the decision for you- hips jolting forward, a slick drag of your clit through all those layers, soft moan spilling out.

Eddie’s there with a rejoinder, a soft noise of his own, hand at your hip seeking the bare strip of skin where your shirt has ridden up, moulding the plush skin with a possessive grip- “That’s it, baby. Yes. Good girl. Fuck, you’re so hot…”

He buries encouragements into the crown of your hair. Good girl rings with an echo in your mind as your pelvis moves on instinct, gunning for the build-up that’s happening far quicker than it ever has before.

With stunning, sudden clarity, you feel the drop-off approaching, stomach clenching in anticipation, coiled spring of pleasure moments away from unraveling; in a haze, your fingers (in his shirt, his hair) spasm, pulling Eddie as close as possible to yourself.

All your senses are overtaken by the spice of his cologne, the soft frizz of his hair at your cheek, the salt-sweet taste of his neck between your teeth. Above you, Eddie groans, hand at the back of your neck tightening in tandem with yours.

“I’m gonna-” there’s barely any time left to warn him but you do your best, voice shaking, hips stuttering- “Oh, shit, Eddie- I’m gonna-”

“Do it.” In stark comparison, his voice is steady, smooth and deep at your ear. “C’mon. Know you can do it for me. Come.”

And like a neat party trick, your body responds, pleasure crescendoing until your whole body is writhing from it; you bite down hard into the column of Eddie’s neck, and he sings your praises while you come harder than you ever have before on your boyfriend’s thigh.

Sense returns to you patchily, like trying to tune a radio to the right frequency. You become aware of the wet mess of your thighs, Eddie’s hand stroking rhythmically down your back, his chest heaving unnaturally beneath your ear- almost worrying, until you realize he’s laughing.

“Oh, please, don’t,” you whine, embarrassment unfurling easily as you make a futile attempt at hiding in Eddie’s neck.

He’s quick to reassure, wrapping both arms around you in a comforting hug, still laughing a bit like he can’t help it- “Sorry, sorry- I promise I’m not making fun. That was just… that was stupid hot, baby.”

A puff of your irritated breath hits the cooling hickey you’d unintentionally marked his neck with.

Eddie rests his chin atop your head, swelled with fondness and pride- “If I knew you could come untouched we would’ve been dry humping a whole lot sooner.”

Equal parts flustered and in love, you join in his giggles this time.

[headcanonenthusiast]

COD characters x virgin reader headcanons

This was made with gender-neutral readers in mind. (For most of them, anyway. Valeria's is fem leaning, but everyone else is neutral.)

This will include König, Simon Riley, Valeria Garza, Rodolfo Parra, Alejandro Vargas, Alex Keller and Kyle Garrick.

Yall I accidentally uploaded this when it was halfway done TWICE and in my panic to delete it the first time, I didn't copy everything 😭😭 I'm crying rn/j

Anyways it's a very snowy day, I'm all nice and bundled up, so it's time to write >:)

(I completely understand that this type of content is not everyone's cup of tea, and that's ok! But, please scroll and ignore if this type of content isn't your thing as opposed to leaving any sort of negative comments.)

NSFW under the cut.

Enjoy!

Alejandro Vargas

-Romantic? Romantic. Let me tell you that every part of your first time with him is so passionate and romantic, it's nearly like a fairytale.

-He won't just dive right in, nononono, like I said, he's a romantic lover. Therefore, to "set the mood", he's either taking you out to a fancy restaurant or cooking dinner for you.

-Then, he's going to give you plenty of foreplay to ensure that you're ready.

-Very passionate sex. Tries his best to go slower for your sake, but something about him being the one taking your virginity raises his ego by 500%.

-"Thats it, mi chula/o (My girl/boy). Just relax, let me make you feel good."

-Will still be sure to leave hickeys on you, though, even if it is your first time.

-In his mind, his hickeys are proof that you're his.

-"There we go, that's better. You look so gorgeous/handsome covered with hickeys."

-Chuckles softly in your ear if you complain about the hickeys. He'll kiss you apologetically and refrain from leaving them. (this time, anyway.)

-Oh, and he refuses to edge you during your first time. He's actually determined to make you cum at least twice. If he hasn't, he's failed you.

-Aftercare includes you being bedbound at least until noon the next day. Alejandro does NOT want you straining yourself, even if you aren't sore. He'll get whatever you want, whether it's food, drink or the remote. The only time you're getting out of bed is to shower, which he'll insist on joining you for.

Valeria Garza

-Really? She's your first choice? Praying for you rn my friend/j

-Okay in all seriousness, as rough as she is during sex, she'll do her best to be gentle. Doesn't want your intro to sex to be a bad/painful one.

-Just because she's being gentler than normal doesn't mean she still isn't gonna boss you around, though. Will ALWAYS be on top, no matter what.

-"Stay still, stay still. You're basically asking me to make it hurt. Is that what you want, hm? To make it fucking hurt?"

-If you listen to her (God forbid if you don't), she'll nod in approval and press a kiss to your clit.

-"There we go, corazón (sweetheart). It's not that hard to listen to me, now is it?"

-If you don't listen to her however, she'll go a bit harder with her strap/fingers. Not as hard as she normally would, but you'll probably be pretty overstimulated.

-"Don't start with that bullshit. I told you to listen to me. If only you had behaved yourself like I asked. Dios, eres imposible (God, you're impossible.), not obeying me yet getting all whiney when I punish you for it."

-Surprisingly doesn't edge you, even if you haven't been listening. In fact, she encourages you to cum on her fingers/strap.

-"Shit, you're gonna cum? You wanna cum? You're lucky I'm feeling generous, especially after how you've been acting. Go ahead, muñeca (doll). Cum all over my strap/fingers."

-Aftercare includes her pressing gentle kisses to your temple and brushing your hair out of your face. You're welcome to do whatever you want after that, but not without Valeria lingering close by, just in case her pretty girl needs anything.

Rodolfo Parra

-Gentle and loving sex? Gentle and loving sex.

-He'll praise you SO MUCH. You could do the smallest thing and he'll just shower you in compliments.

-"Do you have any idea how beautiful/handsome you are, cariño? (Honey/sweetheart) This body is fucking irresistible. What an amazing woman/man/person you are, amor (love.)"

-Moves deathly slow. He's so careful not to hurt you that the actual process of stretching your pussy/ass out takes forever.

-Whispers praises and compliments the entire time, though.

-His hands gently rub your hips in an attempt to soothe you, constantly asking if you're okay.

-"You alright, amor? (Love). Yeah? I'm not being too rough, am I? Good, good. Let me know if it hurts."

-Oh, and his lips never leave your body. Your neck and face especially.

-Aftercare includes the most heavenly massages imaginable. He'll massage you anywhere you want, your shoulders, legs, anywhere you want to be massaged, he'll do it. Similarly to Alejandro, you're also bedbound. Rudy would rather die before letting you do anything after sex, especially your first time.

-And like I said earlier, Rudy has a voice kink. So, hearing you talk afterwards makes him happy. Talk to him about anything and he'll listen so intently while he massages you.

Kyle Garrick

-Like Rudy, constant praise.

-Seems so fixated on the fact that this is your first time, so he's very concentrated on going slow. (In the beginning, anyway. May or may not get a bit drunk off the feeling of your pussy/ass around his cock.)

-The slowest thrusts imaginable. Starts out very shallow, but he'll carefully go deeper into your pussy/ass. Ensures you're ready before, though.

-He also suddenly gains the best hearing in the world. If you make even the slightest sound of discomfort, he'll stop and check in with you.

-"Christ, you alright, love? Too fast?"

-And even if he's going slower, sometimes he'll get so lost in how good you feel that a bit of communication is in order to ground him.

-"Right, sorry, baby. Here-why don't I go at a few different paces and you see which one's the best, yeah?"

-Never makes you feel like you're taking away his enjoyment if you speak up about something you dislike/like. It's only enjoyable to him if you like it, too.

-There is NO such thing as too much talking with him. Please show how much you like/dislike something, and he'll keep it in mind for the rest of his life.

-"Oh, yeah? You like it like that? I'll have to do it more often, then."

-Aftercare also probably includes some chatter. Maybe a quick order of the most delicious food possible while binge watching your favorite show/movie. Oh, and yall are definitely cuddling all night long, too.

König

-So, König is big. And he knows he's big. That's why he's honestly a little anxious to fuck you with his dick during your first time.

-Bro is probably pacing around the room like a depressed zoo tiger for a bit before he sits you down and has a talk with you.

-"I'm sorry, darling, but I don't think you could take me. Especially not as your first time. Are you sure you want to do this?"

-If you ensure that you'll be okay, the foreplay will be insane. He's going to slowly stretch you out over his fingers, gently rubbing your clit/tip with his thumb while making you repeat a chosen safeword.

-"Say it again, liebling (darling). Can you be louder for me? Good, that's a good girl/boy. I want you to say that the moment it starts hurting, okay?"

-He's also gonna eat you out/suck you off as well. Like I said, lots of foreplay.

-And when he does finally start fucking you? He's barely gonna put four inches in. So fixated on not hurting you that he barely realizes that you're moaning softly in approval under him.

-When he does hear those moans, though, he's gonna give you a small smile and ask if you're okay.

-"Aw, listen to those moans. Does that feel good? Mhm, good. Just let me know if it hurts, liebe." (Love)

-Won't even cum inside you the first time if you finish first. He doesn't want to overstimulate you at all. Besides, you're always welcome to watch him jerk off (or even help him out 🤭)

-Aftercare includes you using this behemoth of a man as a bed. You're gonna lay on top of him and act as his personal weighted blanket for the night. Then, the next day is all about you. He's gonna do WHATEVER you want the next day. No food, clothing nor activity is off limits for his perfect liebling ❤

Alex Keller

-If he's your first choice, then congratulations. You have amazing taste.

-Might be biased here bc I find him so unbelievably fine, but Alex would be great as your first time.

-He's just so gentle and attentive, starting by carefully stroking your cock/rubbing your clit to calm you down.

-"Its okay, dolly. I know, I know it doesn't feel good right now. How about I just stay still for a bit, and you tell me when you're ready again, okay?"

-And when you do give permission for him to move again, he's kissing your cheek while praising you.

-"Mm, you're so damn tight. Could spend the whole day in this little pussy/ass and never get tired."

-Ensures that his thrusts are shallow and slow, only going to just behind the tip of his cock and seeing how you react.

-So unbelievably sweet. Makes you feel like the most special person in the world.

-Oh, and he holds your hand. Both physically and metaphorically. He entwines your hands together, talking you through each and every step.

-"Can you spread your legs a little farther, please? Good, that's a good girl/boy."

-Tries his best to make sure you cum first, and when you do he'll carefully fill you up, slowly pulling out to watch it drip out of your hole.

-"Ain't that a pretty sight. You okay, darling? Yeah? Did that feel good?"

-Aftercare will consist of a warm shower/bath together before returning to bed to cuddle all night long. Oh, and Alex is totally kissing the back of your neck as yall spoon, whispering praises and sweet words in your ear.

Simon Riley

-Like König, I feel like he'd be a little hesitant to take you. Not necessarily as anxious as him, but he knows that once he's inside you, he probably won't be great at going slow.

-"Look, love, it's not that I don't want to, it's just that I know myself. I'm gonna have a hard time being gentle."

-He can't resist you for long, though. Eventually he does decide to give it a try, but not after the addition of a safeword and physical signals to show if you're uncomfortable.

-Although Simon's unsure at first, he's actually able to keep a clear head and not get drunk off how good you feel.

-Does his best to listen for your safeword or any physical signal that you wanna tap out.

-Because of this, he's more quiet than normal, but he can't help but grunt softly in your ear with the occasional praise for doing so well.

-"You're takin' me so well, love. Good girl/boy, I'm proud of you."

-Because his mind isn't as foggy as he thought it'd be, he's only putting in a few inches. He's sure you'll be able to take all of him eventually, just not right now.

-"Just the tip, baby. No, not puttin' anymore in. It'll be too much for you."

-Gently rubs your clit/tip to soothe you, even if it doesn't hurt much.

-When you cum, so does he. Ghost proceeds to stay there for a little while, doing a quick check in before pulling out and watching his cum drip down your body.

-"Shit, you see what you do to me, baby?"

-Aftercare is similar to what my headcanons on him said. And although he's tired, he makes sure you go to sleep first this time, just so he can admire his gorgeous girl/handsome boy/etc for a little while longer.

YALL ITS FINALLY DONE 😭 I accidentally uploaded this unfinished TWICE and this is my quick attempt at a rewrite. I tried my best 🙏

And I'm sure you can all tell that I had fun w/ the Alex headcanons. I'm sorry but he's just so..😍

Let me know who I should do next!

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Cupid's Shot🩷

pairing: lee felix x reader

genre: fluff, angst, slow burn

word count: 10.4k

description: what happens when Cupid breaks the rules and falls in love with a mortal?

warning/s: there are suggestive parts so mdni! not proofread!

a/n: here i go again with another felix fic and i'm really proud of it, except i feel like the ending is rushed but i had to write it twice cause i accidentally didn't save it the first time jddkdll

but anyways there will be a second part to this, with smut. it will be a continuation on this main fic but could also be read as its own thing.

please reblog if you like it!🩷

Their purpose is simple: bring two destined souls together by helping them get rid of their fears and insecurities, assist them to find the happiness they deserve, the love they would nurture with their soul mate.

Contrary to popular belief and the information in many books, there isn't only one Cupid, there is a whole nation of them, living in another realm, invisible to the eyes of the mortals, but they can see everything. Including the mortals auras, souls and their destined lovers.

The only rule they have to abide by is to not fall in love with a mortal. None of them really questioned it, they're just beings of light, existing to fulfill their purpose, until they disperse into little particles of shiny dust, disappearing into The Great Source Of Light.

They would get their assigned charges and do everything they can to cross them off the list after they manage to finally match them with their loved one.

Felix often wondered about a lot of things, like why was he born a Cupid, was he even born and where he actually came from if he wasn't. He wondered what The Great Source Of Light actually is and where it would take him after he fulfilled his duties. He wondered why wasn't he allowed to fall in love when love was so soft, warm and fuzzy. Wasn't love the ultimate goal? Was this some kind of punishment because of what he did in a past life; to be a mere messenger of love but never be able to experience it?

Ofcourse, he never dared to say anything like that out loud for the fear of what would happen if he did. He's never actually seen any punishments or violence happening in his little world, everything was cheerful and perfect, the Cupids worked and flew around with blushing cheeks and smiles painted on their faces; never complaining, never tiring. But he didn't want to risk it, or seem like he is defying the natural order of things, he is only curious.

Felix gets a scroll with names of his new charges, and he opens up the paper. Scanning over the names as they shine in a white-ish glow off the paper, something calls to him. His eyes flick around until they land on your name. Something inside him blooms, chimes and explodes in little fireworks. He chants your name in his head. It's time to find you. His eyes close and he focuses on your aura. Mixes of purples and blues swirl behind his closed eyelids and he can feel it closer, smell the sweet flowery scent with a hint of petrichor in it.

He opens his eyes and he's transported, his eyes meeting yours but ofcourse you don't see him. Your chin is resting on your palms, elbows perched on the table as you stare a hole into the computer screen in front of you. Felix quickly takes note of the surroundings, the clacking sounds, telephones ringing and chatter in the distance. He's in an office building, and you're sitting in your cubicle, your hair neatly tied and face devoid of any emotions. But he can see your aura, it's swirling and wilding around your frame, painting pretty designs around you. He thinks he's never seen something as beautiful as you are.

"Y/n!"- someone slams a stack of papers on your desk, startling both you and your Cupid, making him float back a little as he observes you.

"These papers need to be finished today."- the woman says, a malicious undertone in her voice.

"B-but it's almost six. I've worked overtime and-"

"It's not my fault you're slow. Next time work during lunch."- the woman turns around, leaving like it's none of her business.

Felix sees you immediately slump in your chair, the pretty blues and purples of your aura dimming down a little as you grip the papers and start going through them. Cupids weren't supposed to feel bad feelings like anger or envy or anything of that sort but Felix somehow felt annoyed at the woman, and moreover he felt bad for you. He wished he could help you get home faster somehow, but he knows he shouldn't meddle into anything except your soul mate.

Speaking of soul mates, as soon as Felix came down from his realm to yours, he couldn't feel another soul that's supposed to be binded to you. That was unusual but not impossible, sometimes charges had their hearts closed off and the Cupids had to try and open up their hearts first before actually connecting them with love.

He dismissed it for now and focused on you, trying to send you a lovely boost of energy so you don't feel too bad. You were tired and stressed, sick od being mistreated at work, seen as less than. There is a lump forming in your throat and tears threating to spill down your cheeks as you keep working. Suddenly, you feel relief, like someone untied the knot inside your chest and you take a deep breath in and somehow feel more energetic to keep working.

It's already past 9pm when you're done and you're beyond exhausted. All you want right now is a nice shower, a warm bowl of noodles and your bed. Felix observes as you tidy your desk and he follows you when you leave the building to your car. The walk through the empty dark parking lot is eerie and Felix can sense the fear creeping up inside you so he floats a little closer to you, his pink soft wings almost touching you. Not that you would feel it even if they did.

Your apartment is small, but it's cozy and clean and it smells like you, like your aura. It makes Felix's senses fuzzy, something he never experienced before. He looks around the living room full of plants you obviously love taking care of, pictures of you and your friends and family, little knick knacks you collect. He does a full turn and comes face to face with you, in your bra and he panics and scrambles away, almost flying into your lamp. The lamp swings ever so slightly and Felix is not sure how his wings have effect on anything physical in this world because they usually don't. He turns away from you giving you your privacy, waiting for you to leave to the bathroom.

When you do, he slowly flies back closer to the lamp and tries to touch it but his hand goes right through it. It was nothing, he sighs, relief washing over him. He keeps looking around, gathering information about his charge so he knows how to help you open up your heart and find love. Some kind of weird feeling washes over him shortly but he shakes it off. You come out of the bathroom, thankfully in your pjs which look adorable on you, Felix thinks as he smiles and watches you.

After your quiet dinner, you get ready for sleep and crawl into your bed, finally relieved to be in your safe space where no one can harm you. Felix ofcourse doesn't want to intrude and be around while you sleep, at least not yet, not when it's to early to enter your dreams. He turns around to fly out, back to his realm but a sniffle stops him. He stays still and listens, another sniffle coming from under your blanket.

A pang hits his chest when he realizes you're crying. He turns back to you and floats closer, the closer he gets, the more pain in his chest he feels. Why is it like this? Felix has always felt emotions of his charges to a certain degree but never this intense. It's almost unbearable to him and he struggles to come closer to you. He tries anyways, shining a little light he made inside his palms to look at you, but you're in the dark and can't see it. But he sees you and you look completely shattered as tears stream down your cheeks, eyes already red from crying. Your lips quiver, your aura fades more into gray and Felix feels what you feel.

He feels used and abandoned, ridiculed and lonely, unloveable. The feelings are so strong that they force him back away from you, tossing him into the wardrobe behind him, making the door rattle. You gasp and scramble into a sitting position, turning on the lamp beside your bed as fast as you can. You swallow in sudden fear as you look around but nothing's there. Felix is still, he's looking at you and he feels so bad that he scared you, especially while you were in a vunerable state. He still has no idea how he managed to make the door rattle or the lamp swing but that scares him too even though he didn't even feel any pain from the impact.

You shake your head and lay back down, turning the lamp off and wiping your tears away. Felix slowly floats towards the window, cautious not to touch or knock anything down. He looks at you one more time before he shimmers himself back into his realm.

"Have you ever moved a physical item in the earth realm?"- Felix whispers to his coworker and friend, Hyunjin, one of the Cupids he was close to.

"What?"- Hyunjin looks at him, his pink lips pouty and eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"Like... like have you ever accidentally made a lamp swing or a door rattle?"- he tries again and Hyunjin chuckles at his friend.

"Did you hit your head somewhere, Lix? We literally can't touch anything, we're not made from the same stuff earth beings and their things are made of."- Hyunjin says, closing his scroll and looking at Felix again.

"Yeah, yeah I know. It was just a stupid question."- Felix says quickly.

"Are you sure?"- Hyunjin squints his eyes at him.

"Yeah, positive. Don't worry about it."- Felix smiles in hopes to get the other Cupid to not ask any further questions since Cupids weren't really capable of lying.

"Eh, alright."- Hyunjin shrugs, opening up his scroll again and Felix sighs in relief. His friend was never one to pry information out of someone or ask incessant questions, which in this moment Felix is thankful for.

He's more than excited to see you again today, hoping you feel better than you did yesterday. He concentrates on your soul and aura, seeking you amongst the 8 billion souls on earth. As soon as he senses you he's transported into... the office bathroom? He's about to fly out because this is a breach of privacy but then he hears a familiar sniffle. There's no way you're crying in the office bathroom stall, is there? Felix slowly floats, looking for the source of the sound until he stops in front of the last door. He inhales and pushes himself through it, his eyes shut tightly. He slowly opens his eyes and squints, praying that you're not in some kind of compromising position.

You're not, you're just sitting on the closed toilet, your face in your hands and you're crying. Felix feels it again, the negative feelings drowning you in sorrow, one especially prominent. You feel excluded, invisible. Unimportant. Cupids don't really have a reason to cry usually, but Felix can feel your pain deeply with all of his being and his eyes water, golden sparkly tears sliding down his freckled cheeks. He reaches his hand towards you, trying to channel anything good through it, simultaneously fighting the bad feelings pushing him away. He knows he's not supposed to touch you or transfer any kind of light into you unless it's a dire soulmate situation but at this moment he doesn't care. He just doesn't want you to feel so sad and hurt so much. He places his palm on the top of your head, gently sliding it towards the back of your head and your head snaps up, your hand touching your hair where he just touched you.

Felix backs away immediately, pulling his hand to his chest as he panics, his big doe eyes wide as you look around in confusion. How did you feel that? You were only supposed to feel the light energy, but you actually felt his touch. Felix panics more when you reach towards him and he floats back out of the stall. Turns out you were just reaching for the door as you swung them open and hurried towards the sink.

Felix's heart beats hard in his chest, a strong fuzzy feeling shimmering in his insides, so dizzying to him that he doesn't even realize he floated right next to you. He gasps and looks at you but luckily you don't see him, you just splashed your face with water and you're looking at your reflection. He wonders what's happening to him, because a charge never made him feel like this nor did they feel him as you apparently did. He didn't even know who to ask about these things, and his friend Hyunjin seemed to know as much if not less than he does.

Felix throws that in the back of his mind for now, his main concern being; what or who made you cry at work? He follows you back to your cubicle and notices a few people gathered around another woman in the office, they're talking and throwing glances at you. Felix floats closer to listen in, even though he shouldn't really be doing that.

"Wow, Natasha, that ring really is beautiful."- one of the woman gushes as she speaks to the so called Natasha.

"I'm glad you're doing a bachelorette party."- one of them squeals.

"And I'm glad you didn't invite that weirdo. She seriously gives me the creeps."- another woman says, and Felix quickly realizes they're talking about you.

"Ugh, who cares about her. Let's talk about the party."- Natasha waves her hand and Felix feels something boiling in his blood, something he never felt before. Something that scares him and makes him wish he could do bad things to anyone who hurts you or makes you cry, but it quickly dissipates when he looks at your face. You look so dejected and he doesn't want you to think you're alone. He flies back to your cubicle and settles right next to you. And you're boiling. With sadness, anger and hurt, you're on the verge of exploding. Felix feels the push you're involuntarily making, pushing him and essentially pushing love away from you. Your aura is in the darker hues of blue and purple, swirling angrily. You stand up and as much as Felix wants you to stand up for yourself, he feels that you're not in the right state of mind and you might get yourself in trouble.

He quickly stands behind you, his hands hovering above your shoulders, scared now to actually touch you so you don't get spooked. He only hovers his hands above, as close to your skin as he can and sends some soothing light energy into your tense muscles. You relax visibly, the feelings of anger subsiding a little. You shake your head and sit down, deciding to ignore the bitches in your office because who really gives a damn about Natasha's wedding? You for sure don't so you go back to your work and Felix sighs behind you.

As you did yesterday, you continue working late into the night, leaving the building last again, crossing the creepy parking lot to your car and Felix follows closely like he did the day before. There's something different about your aura after that bout of anger you had in the office, something wilder brewing inside you. Felix can feel it and for some reason he doesn't recognize the feeling and he's left confused the whole way home as you drive, your hands gripping the wheel harshly.

You're calmer when you walk into your apartment and you do your nightly routine just like you did yesterday while Felix observes you patiently. You take a shower, he waits in the living room, he joins you for dinner and waits for you again in your room while you get ready for bed.

You lay down in your bed and the unfamiliar feeling that floated through you earlier is back. Felix struggles with it, he can't really comprehend the swirling he feels in his gut and he can't wrap his head around it being either a good or a bad feeling. He should leave but his curiosity gets the best of him, especially when you start making noises. Are you crying again?, Felix thinks and floats closer to you slowly only to realize in shock and horror that you're touching yourself.

He gasps, that feeling deep inside him stronger the closer he is to you and he feels like his insides are throbbing. Cupids don't exactly have a body they can touch but they know what sex is, after all that's part of relationships and love. And they also know they shouldn't be intruding on a private moment like this so Felix floats away towards the door, ignoring the fuzziness blurring his senses and vision. He tries to float through the door, the physical barriers never stopping him before, but his forehead collides hard with the door causing him to fall down on his butt, and he groans in pain. Pain? Since when do Cupids feel physical pain from impact like that?, he panics, his hand coming up to rub at his forehead.

"What the hell?"- he hears you say as you sit up and turn your lamp on, your eyes trained on the door. Felix guesses he made a lot of noise, again, and startled you, again.

"If there's a ghost in here now, you're sick!"- you yell out into the room and Felix looks up at you but luckily you don't seem to see him.

"Ugh, ghosts are scary."- he shivers, muttering to himself. You don't hear him, you sigh and lay back down, leaving the lamp on and opting to grab your phone. You open up Instagram, the mood you were in gone now.

Felix lifts up, dusting off the imaginary speckles of dust and glances at you again, feeling embarassed about this whole situation. He's confused about the door and how you managed to hear him smack into it. There's only one person he could ask about these happenings, and he's beyond nervous because of that.

"Hey Lix, how's it going?"- Changbin, one of the more experienced Cupids greets Felix as he makes his way to the Elders. Specifically, one he wants to talk to. Minho. For some reason, everyone is scared of him and there are rumours going around, rumours Felix doesn't even wanna think about because he gets scared easily.

"I- I need to talk to Minho."- Felix gulps and Changbin's smile falters.

"Oh? What for?"- he asks.

"It's personal. About my charge."- Felix answers.

"Ah, you got a tough one? Probably doesn't want to open their heart up for love, hm?"- Changbin wears a small smirk on his face as he plays around with the scroll he holds in his hands.

"Something like that, yeah."- Felix answers.

"You summoned me?"- there's a voice behind Felix and he shivers and turns around quickly, only to be greeted by a very pretty being, one that has sharp eyes and facial features but somehow there is softness underneath all that.

"Y-yes I did. I'm Felix."

"I know who you are. Tell me what you need."- the Elder called Minho talks calmly.

Felix turns to Changbin and he understands and shimmers away from them.

"Well, something weird is happening with my charge."- Felix says, clearing his throat.

"Weird how?"- Minho asks, the white light shining around him almost blinding Felix.

"I can feel her feelings, emotional and physical ones very strongly. So strongly that they managed to hurl me into her wardrobe and... and the door made noise. And then last night... I tried to float through her bedroom door and I banged my head into it."- Felix explains and he gets quieter and quieter as he talks, looking at Minho's face. The expressions Minho made during Felix's speech looked like he went through the five stages of grief in a few seconds.

"Has she heard you or seen you yet?"- Minho asks sternly and Felix is now scared for real.

"Yet? No, I mean no, she didn't. But she felt my touch. At least I think she did."- he mutters the last part.

Minho pinches the bridge of his nose, a long sigh coming out of his mouth.

"Someone screwed up. Again."- he says, annoyed.

"W-what do you mean?"- Felix feels like he's about to cry.

"Okay listen, just keep watching over your charge like you normally would. Create a link with her and infiltrate her dreams, fill them up with love. I'll talk to the others and we'll see what we can do. You just keep doing what you're doing. And don't be scared."- Minho places his hand on Felix's shoulder gently, in hopes of calming the young Cupid down. But nothing about Felix is calm in this moment.

It must be something big if Minho didn't tell him what's happening and he's asking to meet the other Elders. Something seriously bad is happening and Felix can't help but panic. In that moment of distress, he suddenly yearns to be by your side, the sweet scent of your aura, of you enveloping him and caressing him from the inside out. Felix opens his eyes and he's transported into your room. He didn't mean to do that and it startles him, he merely had a thought about you and he was suddenly there.

It's morning in the earth realm, way past your time to go to work but you're still in bed. It must be your day off or the weekend, Felix reckons. He hovers over your sleeping form and looks at you. Your aura is peaceful right now, the blues and purples leaning more to the pastel hues, and a slight silver shimmer between them swirling and dancing slowly. You must be having a good dream, Felix thinks as he smiles and reaches his hand towards you. He knows he shouldn't but he can't help himself. His palm rests on your cheek, and a buzzing feeling goes through him. A feeling he knows too well.

He gasps, retracting his hand as you stir in your sleep. Did you feel it too? His touch? The buzzing, the one that Felix always feels when a charges soulmate is near by. He couldn't believe it, he suddenly felt the other soul binded to you. But it was weird, like it's so close, almost like it's part of him. Something washes over him, a kind of melancholy and he doesn't know what to do with it. Sparkly tears brim at his eyes for a reason unknown to him and you're finally awake.

Your eyes flutter open and you stare straight at Felix, your sleep covered eyes boring into his wide ones. You freeze and he freezes too, his brain short-circuiting at the moment.

"What in the-" - you start and he shimmers away as fast as he can. There's no way. There's no freaking way you just saw him. He hopes he was fast enough so you'd think you were still dreaming. He shimmers back into his realm and accidentally bumps into Hyunjin hard, throwing him off balance.

"Woah! Felix?"- Hyunjin looks at him wide-eyed. "How did you do that?"- he asks.

"Do what?"- Felix's panic spreads wider inside him.

"You pushed me. How did you push me?"- Hyunjin looks confused.

"I- I don't know. I can't explain it right now, I just need to talk to Minho."

"You can't. The Elders are having a meeting. It's something serious by the look of it. Even The Great Source Of Light is attending the meeting. You know it's something bad when they're there."- his fellow Cupid explains.

"Oh my god!"- Felix cries, tears streaming down his cheeks and his friend gasps.

"Oh! You're crying! Why are you crying?"- Hyunjin flails both his arms and wings. He's never seen his fellow Cupids cry like this, especially not the always smiling Felix.

"I can't tell you. I need to go!"- Felix shuts his eyes tightly, concentrating on you again. He hears Hyunjin shouting his name, but it's too late, Felix is transported into your apartment again.

Only this time, it's the living room and you're sitting on the couch, talking to someone on the phone.

"I'm telling you it looked real. He was like some kind of angel. But like Barbie pink version."- you say and Felix accidentally chuckles. He covers his mouth fast but you didn't seem to hear him behind you. He slowly circles the couch to stand in front of you but you look through him.

"Well alright then my dreams are vivid as always. He was kinda cute tho."- you giggle and Felix feels warmness spreading in his face and chest.

"Sure, sure I need to get laid. According to you."- you laugh into the speaker, playing with the hem of your shirt, your legs tucked under one of the decorative pillows on your couch.

"Okay, let me know when you find a normal one."- you chuckle again. "I'll see you soon then. Bye!"

You hang up and shake your head, thinking to yourself that you've really gone mad if you started hallucinating like that. You get up and make your way to your room and Felix follows behind you silently, his senses buzzing again. You open up your closet and start sifting through your dresses. Felix heats up when he realizes you're about to undress. He turns around fast, closing his eyes, trying to be respectful even though there's a strong pull inside him telling him to just turn back around to face you. But he fights it and stays with his back turned to you.

When he's sure you're dressed he whips back around and his eyes land on you, dressed in a pretty dress and checking yourself in the mirror.

"Oh."- Felix gasps, his chest fluttering. He's never seen you dressed like that and his senses start buzzing even more. He's dizzy suddenly so he moves away from you, into the living room. He doesn't want to risk bumping into something or you seeing him again even though he has no idea what actually triggered that.

You finish getting ready and head out, Felix floating behind you. It's a beautiful sunny day and you walk to the park near your house, where your best friend waits for you.

"Y/n!"- Jisung waves at you, getting up from the bench he was sitting on and opening up his arms.

"Sungie!"- you yell back and close the distance, returning the hug.

Felix's lips fall open, and he feels something stirring inside him, something kind of uncomfortable at the sight of you hugging another man like that. You and Jisung part and start walking down the path together. Felix hurries up behind you, trying to put his hand on Jisung's shoulder so he can feel his soul. Jisung's aura is invisible to Felix, since he's not his charge but he can still 'read' his soul only if he manages to make the connection.

"So, how did your date go?"- you ask your friend.

"Which date? The one on Wednesday or the one last night?"- he smirks and you chuckle, smacking his arm and unkowingly startling your Cupid.

"Which ever one was better... or more eventful."- you wiggle your eyebrows.

"Honestly, they were both a snooze. This guy last night almost bored me to death. I'm beginning to think I'll never find my soulmate."- Jisung sighs. Felix's hand is almost on his shoulder.

"Aww, don't say that. I believe that you of all people will actually find your soulmate."- you say.

"I don't see it, unless Cupid personally comes down to earth and finds someone for me."- Jisung jokes and Felix freezes and retracts his hand.

Why did he say that? Did he actually believe in Cupid? Or was he just saying it?

You reach your favorite diner, and Felix manages to float through the door this time while following you. He stands behind your friend's chair as you chat and order, his hands hovering above Jisung's shoulder. He finally places them down, little lights forming from them as he tries to feel around for that familiar buzz and warmness.

But, nothing happens. Jisung doesn't flinch, you keep talking and laughing, and there is no buzz or warmness or love. At least not that kind, Felix can feel that Jisung cares about you as a friend but he isn't your soulmate and Felix feels relieved. Why is he relieved?! He's supposed to find your soulmate, that's his only purpose! He feels confused suddenly, thoughts swirling inside him and he decides - tonight will be the night he will try to infiltrate your dreams.

Felix waits for you to fall asleep instead of shimmering away this evening. When he's sure you're entering deeper into your dreams, he floats closer to you and hovers over you. He places his hands above your head and closes his eyes, concentrating on your energy. Little particles of light shine out of his hands onto your face, warming you up and creating the link your Cupid needs to basically transport himself into your mind.

You're dreaming, at least you think you are but it feels real. More real than any other dream you had before. You're in a field that seems to stretch forever, it's warm and sunny, you're surrounded by beautiful flowers but there's something different about them, different than flowers you see in real life. They're glowing, you realize. The light on their petals glimmers into million different colors, you've never seen anything like it.

"Pretty, isn't it?"- you hear a deep voice behind you and you whip around fast, but you're met with more flowers and grass.

"Who's there? Show yourself!"- you say.

"Not yet."- the voice says. "I don't want to spook you."

"Who are you?"- you ask.

"I'm... someone who's trying to help you open up your heart to love."- the voice reckons.

"Oh? I don't think my heart's closed though."

"Then why do you feel so lonely?"

"Ouch! That's none of your business!"- you feel slightly annoyed at the voice, but this is also just a dream so it must be your subconscious.

"Actually, that is exactly my business-"

"Honestly, I feel crazy talking to a void. Just come out from wherever you're hiding."- you hear a deep sigh and then you see a blinding light. Your arms come up to shield your eyes as you wait for the flickering to subside. When you put your arms down, you come face to face with a beautiful creature. You've never seen anyone as pretty as this creature is, they're practically glowing, their pretty pink wings shimmering and moving lightly as they hover over the ground.

"Hey, I know you!"- you say suddenly, pointing at him and waving your finger. "I saw you this morning when I opened my eyes. Oh my god, I am going crazy. I've conjured up some kind of pretty man in my dreams! You are a man, right?"

"Ugh, well, I'm not technically human. But for humans I am male presenting. I'm actually-" - Felix doesn't get to finish his sentence, he's suddenly forcefully thrown out of your mind.

The link is broken, why? Felix opens his eyes and you're awake. It's still night so why did you wake up? He floats away from you, giving you space as he sees you fumbling for your night lamp.

You turn the light on, your hand coming up to rest on your forehead. The connection must've been too much for you that it caused you a headache and that's why you woke up. Your Cupid feels bad that he caused you pain so he comes closer to you again, lifting his hands up over your hair to take the pain away. His light heals you and the pressure that was throbbing inside your head and behind your eyelids is suddenly gone. You go back to sleep feeling exhausted and confused about your dream even though you couldn't remember the details of it. Felix decides to stay next to you tonight.

It's been a few weeks, and the Elders haven't said a word about their meeting or Felix's 'situation' to him. He was still scared and panicky but he tried to stay calm for the sake of his charge - you, who he had to help find love. He tried to ignore the constant buzzing he felt whenever he got closer to you, but it was consuming him and making him feel weaker. Like his powers were harder to call upon, and he had no idea how you or the soul binded to you were doing that. Speaking of that soul, he had yet to find them and he tried to 'read' every single person interacting with you, but every time the reading came up blank.

Tonight, Felix decided to appear in your dreams again and try to make the dream longer so you could have a proper conversation.

You find yourself on the pretty field again, those wondrous flowers glowing beautifully around you.

"Hello?"- you say, looking around the now familiar place.

"I'm here."- the deep voice says and you turn around towards it.

"Indeed you are."- you chuckle. "I must be crazy."

"I assure you, you're not. Let me properly introduce myself. My name is Felix, and I am... well I'm your Cupid."- he says and you look at him in disbelief before you burst out into laughter, startling the poor creature.

"Okay, this is just a dream."- you shake your head.

"Yes, it is."

"At least I'm not hallucinating in real life."- you say.

"I've come to talk to you. I'm having some problems in finding the soul binded to you. I feel them close but I can't find them. It must mean that your heart is closed off to love."

"Is that like a soulmate?"- you play along this illusion you created in your head, when in fact you know you're just talking to yourself.

The glowing creature nods.

"What if I don't have one?"- you ask.

"Nonsense! Everyone has a soulmate."

"Even you?"

"I am just a messenger of love."- Felix shakes his head.

"Maybe I'm not meant for love. Maybe I'm an exception and I don't have a soulmate or whatever."- you sigh and Cupid floats closer to you.

"Is that how you feel? Undeserving of love?"

"Are you going all psychological on me?"- you chuckle, he's now closer to you and you feel warmth radiating from the light around him.

"Well, I need to know what's stopping you from finding love."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore."- you say, your mood sour suddenly and Felix feels it.

"Okay, we can talk about anything else."- he smiles at you.

"Don't you have somewhere else to be? Aren't you supposed to help people find love?"

"I am one of many."- Felix chuckles. "I'm supposed to be right here now. With you."

You're about to talk but your alarm blasts next to your ear and you realize you're waking up. The pretty field, flowers, sunshine and Cupid disappear into oblivion and you wake up in your room. The clock is showing 6:30am and you have to get ready for work. You have a warm feeling inside you and you feel like you just came from somewhere, some happy place and you're trying to grasp it again. You hate when you forget your dreams like that, but it must've been a good one because you're feeling more positive than you usually do.

Jisung calls you that evening, all excited about finding you the perfect date. He's been yapping about his coworker, Chan, for days, trying to get you to go out with him.

"Just take a risk. It's one date, what do you have to lose? If you don't like him just ghost him or something."

"Because that's very nice to do, Jisung."- you roll your eyes even though he can't see you over the phone and he laughs.

"Look, maybe it will just be some nice dick, but god knows you need that anyways."

"Oh my god!"- you laugh. "Alright then, I'll go out with him."

"Yes!"- you can imagine Jisung jumping up and down in excitement. "Wear that pretty black dress you have!"

And you do, you wear the dress, you put your heels on, you even put a little more makeup than you usually do and Felix watches.

He seethes in jelaousy, he recognizes it now, it's something Cupids aren't supposed to feel but he does. He wants you to make yourself this pretty for him, only for him. He knows it's the highest rule he's breaking but he can't help it, he's fallen in love with you.

You really don't have high expectations out of tonight, having been disappointed in people again and again. So you're surprised when Chan turns out not only handsome and funny but a real gentleman and someone you can actually have an intelligent conversation with. But you're cautious and don't want to jump to conclusions, or start anything serious.

That's why you decide to let go for the night, after a few encouraging drinks in your system, you invite Chan over to your place. You haven't been touched in so long, you forgot how good it feels to have someone kiss you as passionately as he does. You forgot how it feels to have gentle hands on your skin, worshipping you, laying you down on your bed.

Glowing golden tears slide down Felix's cheeks as he watches from the corner of the room. He knows Chan's not your soulmate, he linked to his soul back at the restaurant you had dinner at. And while he sensed that Chan was a good man, he still didn't want him anywhere near you. Felix still wants to give you privacy, but the buzzing and fuzziness clouding his senses don't let him move his wings or shimmer. He feels paralyzed and all he can do is turn his back to the bed, forced to listen to your pleasure, your strained moans, short breaths, your wetness caused by the man touching you and kissing you, the way you kept chanting his name.

Felix wishes to disappear, but at the same time his gut is stirring and he feels shame wash over him. He shuts his eyes tight, ignoring all the feelings brewing inside him, and suddenly he feels like he's being pulled up. He almost screams in fear but when he opens his eyes, he realizes he's back in his realm. Minho is glowing as he stands in front of him and Felix, still out of breath, slightly bows to his Elder.

"Felix."- Minho says and the Cupid gulps.

"Your powers are weakening fast, even as we speak."

"What's happening to me?"- Felix asks, fresh sparkly tears spilling out his eyes, lips quivering.

"You're losing your powers. You're becoming human, Felix."- Minho announces and Felix gasps.

"H-how is that possible?"- he's shivering now.

"I can't tell you yet. You need to find out on your own. Go back to your charge."

"B-but she's-"

"Go to her. Don't be afraid. Everything will be fine, Cupid."- Minho waves his hands towards Felix, little sparkly clouds coming out of them, soothing the Cupid's pain as much as he can.

"I can't shimmer."- Felix shakes his head, shaking a little.

"Just try to focus on your charge's energy and you'll be transported."- Minho says and Felix tries again, he senses you but he can't move.

"Hyunjin!"- Minho summons the other Cupid and he appears next to them. He takes in the state of his friend, shaking and tears still streaming down his cheeks. He's never seen him this weak or this sad.

"What's wrong?"- Hyunjin's brows furrow.

"He can't shimmer. Help him, just bring him to his charge, he'll show you the way."- Minho explains.

Hyunjin grabs Felix's hands gently and they both close their eyes, communicating with their minds, Felix sending his emotions and your soul's energy to Hyunjin. They manage to shimmer into your living room and Felix looks around. It's obviously the next day after that date, since time goes by differently in different realms.

"Hey, whatever happens, everything will be okay in the end, you know?"- Hyunjin smiles sympathetically at Felix, gently putting his hand on his friend's cheek.

"How do you know that?"- Felix's bottom lip quivers. "Do you know something I don't?"- he asks, vision blurry from tears. Hyunjin wipes them off.

"I don't. But I trust the Elders know what they're doing. And so does The Great Source Of Light. They would never harm us or anyone else for that matter."- Hyunjin reassures him.

"You really think that?"- Felix sniffles.

"I do. You'll be fine, my friend."- Hyunjin pats his head and shimmers away. Felix looks around again and you're not in the living room. He hears rummaging in your kitchen and he hopes and prays that Chan isn't still here. He wipes his tears away, trying to come to his senses, and you walk out of the kitchen towards your sofa.

You look up and freeze.

"What the fuck?!"- you squeal, grabbing the nearest object to you, which was just a decorative pillow in the shape of a flower and hurl it into the intruder standing next to your tv. Felix gasps, lifting his arms up to cover his face and the pillow flies right through him, a few particles of light dispersing around him as the pillow hits the wall with a thud.

"Okay, what the hell is this?!"- you say, obviously panicked and trying to pinch yourself so you wake up cause there's no way this is real.

"Don't hurt me!"- the 'intruder' speaks in a deep voice that's somehow familiar to you.

"What are you? What is happening?!"- you panic, half hiding behind your sofa. "Are you a ghost?"

"Ghosts are scary."- the creature shakes his head and comes closer. You squint your eyes, moving back a little, before realization dawns on you.

"I know you!"- you wave your finger at him and Felix feels a sense of deja vu. "You appear in my dreams. You talk to me. In some field with weird flowers."

"How do you remember that?"- he gasps. His powers must be really weakening.

"I remember a lot of my dreams. I don't remember what we talk about though. Am I going crazy and hallucinating right now? Talking to myself?"- you ask.

"No, I'm real."- the creature says.

You don't feel threatened for some reason so you come closer to him. Warmth radiates off of him and he looks ethereally beautiful up close. His hair is long and blonde, eyes dark but sparkles swim inside them, eyelashes long, freckles adorning his face, some of them in the shape of little hearts, even his upper lip is shaped like a heart. He glows, his pink shiny wings moving ever so slightly as he hovers above the ground just a little, before he plants his feet down on your carpet.

You reach your hand towards him, something pulling you closer to him and Felix stays completely still as he feels that buzzing again. His soul vibrates as your fingertips touch his ever so slightly and his eyes flutter. You gasp, only feeling electrifying warmness when you touch him, not actual skin like you would if you were touching a human.

"W-what are you?"- you whisper.

"I'm a Cupid. One of many. I was sent to help you find your soulmate."- he says and you laugh in disbelief, much like you did in your dream.

"I should call a doctor and get my head checked."- you sigh, sitting down on your sofa. Felix joins you reluctantly, almost shyly, and you eye him.

"I'm telling you, you're not crazy, this is real. It's just that you're not supposed to see me. But somehow you can."- he says.

"And why's that?"- you ask.

"I don't know. The Elders do. But they never told me anything, they said I should find out on my own."- the Cupid explains.

"The Elders?"- you play along to the madness.

"Yeah. Ugh, they're like beings of light like us, but like upper level. They take care of everything, keep the balance of Good in the world. All the positive feelings and such."- the Cupid explains.

"So is your name Cupid or?"- you say, trying to wrap your head around what's happening right now.

"No, my name's Felix."- he says.

"Okay then, Felix."- you emphasize his name and his chest flutters, some kind of vibrating wave washing over him. "How are you supposed to help me find my soulmate?"

"Well, I watched you and got to know you... and I'm supposed to feel the soul-"

"Wait, wait. You watch me? Isn't that kinda creepy?"- you stop him.

"N-no, it's literally what I'm supposed to do! Or it was, at least. I never intruded on your personal moments. I mean, not on purpose."- Felix says, looking away from you.

"What do you mean not on purpose?"

"I couldn't shimmer while you were here with your date last night. But I was summoned by the Elders anyways."

"Shimmer?"

"It's how Cupids transport through realms."- he explains, and you shake your head, your brows lifting up in disbelief.

"So you just watched me have sex?"

Felix cringes, the feelings stirring inside him last night threatening to resurface again.

"No, I didn't! I turned away. And just so you know, Chan is not your soulmate."

You scoff at him and grab your phone.

"Okay, I've had enough of this craziness. I'm gonna call the only person I trust, and if he can see you then you're real."- you nod to yourself.

"Jisung?"- Felix asks and you roll your eyes at him.

"You know eeeeverything about me, now do you?"- you say before Jisung picks up. You tell him it's an emergency and to come over asap.

And he does, just 10 minutes later, he's walking through your door.

"Come, I need to show you something."- you say grabbing his arm and pulling him into your living room.

"Where is the damn emergency?"- Jisung whines.

"There."- you point at Felix, who's standing next to the sofa now. "Do you see him?"

"You mean the pretty man with pink wings that's floating in your living room? Yeah I do and what the actual fuck?"- Jisung asks, his eyes widdened in shock.

"This is Cupid. One of many, as he says. His name is Felix and he's here to help me find love."- you sigh and Jisung laughs, shaking his head. "And since you can see him, either he's real or we're sharing a hallucination."

"I can't believe your ass was so lonely that you got your own personal Cupid to help you date."- Jisung jokes and you smack his head.

"Not funny!"- you say.

"Actually, you have your own personal Cupid too."- Felix chimes in.

"I do?"- Jisung's eyes widden again, his hand still rubbing where you smacked him.

"Everyone does."- Felix nods.

"So why can we see you?"- Jisung asks.

"I don't know. I don't know why any of this is happening. It all started when I accidentally swung the lamp and hit the wardrobe door-"

"That was you?"

"Yeah, and I'm not supposed to be able to influence physical stuff in the earth realm like that. I'm only made of light."- Felix explains.

"Okay then, you obviously need help. Since you can't shimmer or whatever, and people can see you, you have to stay here while I'm out. I mean people would probably be weirded out if they saw a guy with wings floating around me all day."- you chuckle and Felix nods, some kind of turmoil swirling in his chest.

"Shimmer?"- Jisung asks.

"Don't ask."- you say and Felix suddenly feels dizzy, he grabs at his chest, vibration going through his body.

"Felix?"- you tilt your head as you turn back to him.

He's buzzing even more now, little particles of light dispersing constantly around him.

"What's happening to him?!"- Jisung panics getting up and trying to get closer to the Cupid, only to be blinded by light.

Both of you lift your hands up to shield your eyes, and you hear some kind of little explosions like fireworks all around you.

The lights are so bright that you can see them under your closed eyelids.

You hear a thud and the lights disappear so you finally open your eyes. Felix is laying on the floor, seemingly unconscious and both you and Jisung rush to him.

You place your hand on Felix's shoulder and try to shake him only to realize you can actually feel him like he was made of flesh, not only the warmness and electricity that went through your palm earlier.

Felix is slowly waking up and he can hear Minho summoning him, at the same time he feels your hand on him, he feels the floor beneath him and he panics. He's pulled up suddenly, the action hurting him, his now human body screaming with pain.

"Felix."- he hears Minho's warm voice.

"What happened?"- Felix asks, slowly opening his eyes, all the light and swirling clouds that he was surrounded by every day of his existence suddenly making him naseous, intensifying the headache behind his eyelids.

"You're almost completely human. Have you realized why you're turning human?"- Minho asks and Felix shakes his head no.

Minho pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing in annoyance.

"Think about it. The buzzing you feel when you're close to your charge."

Felix thinks, despite the horrible aches going through his body, he tries hard to think about everything he knows. He gasps as realization dawns on him.

"I'm- I'm her soulmate?"- he says, his chest beating now and he clutches at it, realizing he now has a heart pumping blood through him.

"Finally!"- Minho chuckles.

"But how is that possible? Cupids aren't supposed to fall in love, especially not with mortals."- Felix recites the rule he learned the first day he opened his eyes.

"Well, someone screwed up. As you know, us Elders deal with good souls too, we help them reincarnate or pass on into different existences. Cupids souls are the souls of people who are done with their life on earthly realms, promoting them to a higher state of being. I mean, not only Cupids, but also Muses for inspiration, Sandman for dreams and many other light beings. The point is, your soul was supposed to be reincarnated as your charge's soulmate. But instead someone accidentally reincarnated you into a Cupid. Still, the pull of love is stronger than anything, travelling through realms and your soulmate ended up as your charge just so you can find love in each other. Weird how destiny works, but that is yours."- Minho explains and Felix just stares at him, the overwhelming amount of information seemingly suffocating him.

"Wh-what about my powers... My other charges..."

"Your charges have been divided between different Cupids, so don't worry about that. Your powers are actually what I wanted to talk to you about. They were one with you since the day you started existing, connected to your emotions so it will take some time for them to completely disappear. The transition will be hard but it will be worth it."

"B-but... what if she doesn't love me?"- Felix asks weakly.

"Oh, she already does. After all, she's your soulmate too."- Minho smiles, seemingly glowing even brighter than before.

"So what do I do now?"

"I will send you back to the earth realm. This is goodbye, former-Cupid. You did a great job helping people find love. It's your turn now to find yours."- Minho says beckoning Felix's friends to come closer. Hyunjin and Changbin float closer to Felix, both of them with golden tears sparkling in their eyes, threatening to spill out.

"You'll be fine, Felix. You deserve to feel love."- Hyunjin smiles at his friend and Changbin agrees.

Felix tries to hug them, but all he feels is the warmness of the light particles they're made of as they embrace him. It's enough for him to feel the love they hold.

"Shimmer him to his love."- is the last thing Felix hears before everything goes black.

It has been three weeks exactly since Felix disappeared and appeared again in your living room, without his wings, unconscious and running a high fever.

You and Jisung carried him to your bed when he appeared, unsure if you should call an ambulance or not. Jisung remembered that Chan's close to a doctor who's really good at what he does but you felt awkward since you never contacted him again after that night. He was still happy to help, holding no grudges against you and his doctor friend welcomes you to his ordination the same day.

You can't really explain the whole situation to the doctor lest he deems you crazy, but even with the little information you give to him, he takes care of Felix.

"Hm."- doctor Yang muses, staring at the papers in his hands. "He just has a fever, while all his other vitals are fine. It's just like he's burning up from the inside, like there's some kind of light or fire inside him."

Even after running all the possible tests, the doctor couldn't find the source of Felix's state, but you know it's gonna take more than any kind of human medicine to make him better.

And now it's been three weeks, Felix is falling in and out of consciousness, and you've tried everything and anything you could think of. Jisung's been helping you take care of him, and you've had time to think. Your heart ached for Felix, seeing him on the brink between life and death, holding on by a thread.

In the mean time, you decide to say fuck it and quit your job. It's not what you wanted to do originally anyways, you just had to pay bills like everyone else so you settled. But, after finding out about Cupids, Elders and whatnot, your earthly problems and concerns seemed kind of nonsensical. Life is so much greater than you thought it was, there is meaning in it, there is love and destiny and soulmates.

That's why you feel connected to Felix, in a way, he was excluded too, something you felt every single day of your life, especially at work. He was cut off from the only life he knew, he had no family or friends, no past on Earth, at least not in this life. You feel like you want to protect him in any way you can.

"Sungie, I'm worried. His breathing is really shallow."- you say, placing your hand on Felix's forehead.

Jisung is silent for a few moments, deep in thought.

"Jisung?"- you tilt your head at him.

"You know what I've been thinking? Since he is - well was Cupid, and he's made of light and love... wouldn't a true love's kiss make him better?"- Jisung suggests.

"Have you been reading fairytales?"- you chuckle.

"Cupid is kind of a fairytale though, isn't he? Or a myth, rather. I don't know, just think about it."

"That's so cliché though."- you shake your head in disbelief.

"Cliché or not, it could be the only way to help him."

That evening, you're alone with Felix and thinking about what your friend said earlier. It couldn't hurt to try, right? You got nothing to lose.

You get up from the couch that you've been sleeping on ever since Felix fell ill, and make your way to your room. He's laying on his back, his breathing fast and shallow, beads of sweat running down his forehead. You sit on the bed, nervousness suddenly washing over you and making your heart beat faster in your chest.

"Felix?"- you try like many times before, but to no avail. Your eyes water and you're afraid. If this doesn't work, he may not have much more time. The thought of that creates an empty hole in your stomach.

You lean in closer to his face and slowly press your lips on his. They're chapped but still soft and you feel something hit you, leaving you out of breath. Thousands of years of love, his soul that was binded to you since the beginning, stretching into forever, taking different shapes, nationalities, species. You may have even been two rocks on a shore when Earth first came into existence. You know him, you know his lips, you know his love.

You hear fireworks much like that day in the living room and you quickly pull back. Little lights are exploding around Felix and he opens his eyes.

"Y-y/n?"- he says weakly, his voice deep and raspy as he squints his eyes at you. The little lights from the fireworks disperse around you both.

"Felix?!"- you gasp. You can't believe it actually worked! Jisung is a damn genius, you think, smiling at Felix.

"W-what-"

"It's okay."- you touch his forehead and his fever seems to be subsiding quickly. "You have to drink some water."

Felix just nods, feeling completely confused and out of it. You grab a water bottle and help him drink.

"Oh, that's better."- he says. "What happened?"

"You were kind of unconscious for three weeks. Jisung and I took care of you. I thought you... I thought you wouldn't make it."- you say, your stomach swirling with many different emotions.

"How did you make me better then?"- he asks and your face warms up.

"I- ugh- I kissed you."- you declare and Felix's eyes widden, his cheeks rosy.

"Oh."- he looks away and awkwardness settles between you both as you have no idea what to do or say.

Felix's stomach suddenly grumbles making you chuckle as he gasps and grabs at it.

"I guess you're fully human now."- you say. "Let's go eat something."- you reach your hands towards him.

He grabs them, wobbling on his feet and you help him steady himself. After not using his legs for 3 weeks, he still feels weak and fuzzy even though your kiss basically healed him.

"My wings!"- he realizes suddenly. "They're gone!"

"Actually, they were gone as soon as you were brought back from your realm."- you tell him and he doesn't answer, seemingly deep in thought.

You decide not to pry with any questions as you both settle in the kitchen, he'll tell you what's on his mind when he's ready.

You whip up some instant noodles and bring two bowls to the table. Felix doesn't wait, he starts digging in with his chopsticks right away.

"Woah, woah, wait a little or you'll get burned."- you warn him, gently grabbing his hand.

His face flushes as he looks at you sheepishly.

"Sorry."- he mumbles.

"It's okay."- you smile at him. "You have lots of things to get used to."

When he does try the food, his eyes widden comically, lips falling open.

"Oh wow, this is so good! Must be food for gods."- he gasps.

"Thank you, but it's just instant noodles."- you chuckle. He smiles a little and continues eating as thoughts swirl around his head.

Now that he's completely human, everything he knew before and everyone he cared about was gone. Everything he ever was just evaporated, his powers, his wings, his duties. And even though he knows you're his soulmate, and you're bound to fall in love with him like he fell in love with you, he was still scared. If you didn't want him, he'd have nowhere to go.

"What's on your mind?"- you ask Felix after dinner, as you both sit on your couch.

"Well... I basically don't exist in this realm. I don't have a family, not even a last name. No one, but you I guess."- he sighs shyly.

"I know it's not the same, but I kind of of have no one except Jisung and well you either. I'm not really close to my family anymore."

"But the pictures-"

"Are old. They didn't agree with my choices and they didn't care for me when I was down. Jisung was there for me at my lowest so he's more like family to me than my actual one."- you say.

"I understand. It's just that... I'm scared."- Felix looks away from you.

"Of what?"

"I know we're soulmates but I'm afraid you wont see me the way I see you and then I'll truly have no one."- he says quietly. You chuckle, making him look up at you.

"You know what I felt when I kissed you?"- you ask and he shakes his head.

"I felt like I've known you for a thousand years. Like I loved you for a thousand years."- his lips tremble. "I've always been kind of a dreamer when it comes to love. But after being with wrong people I stopped believing. In soulmates, destiny, Cupids and whatnot. But kissing you tonight changed everything."

"Do you maybe want to try that again?"

Instead of answering verbally you start leaning in towards him slowly, your eyes travelling to his plump lips. Felix's heart starts beating hard against his chest as he leans in too. Your heart matches the beating of his as his breath hits your lips. He meets you halfway, your lips pressing together and you place your hands on his cheeks gently. You start moving your lips and he's stunned for a moment before he follows your lead. And suddenly, he feels all of it. All the precious moments of love you shared in your past lives. The purpose of his existence, he realizes as his soul buzzes is to love you. You smile into the kiss and he knows everything will be just fine.

[reiding-writing]

mistletoe [ s.r ]

Summary:

Spencer accidentally slips to the team that he doesn’t like Christmas, and you take it upon yourself to try and change his mind during one of your bi-weekly movie nights.

WARNINGS: mentions of schizophrenic episodes, mentions of divorce, slight miscommunication

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: 99% fluff, tiny bit of angst, two oblivious idiots in love

wc: 4.6k

masterlist!!

a/n: watch someone who doesn’t like christmas, write about a reader who does like christmas 😭 thanks to ml @flowersfromautumn for beta reading this for me 🫶🫶

Spencer Reid was not a Christmas person.

The rest of the team found it a little ironic, especially considering his overwhelming love for halloween, but he wasn’t going to tell them that the reason he hated the holiday season was because his mother’s paranoia spiked during them. He wasn’t going to tell them that the last time he’d tried to do something with his family for the holidays it ended with his mother locking herself in her bedroom for three straight days and Spencer finding a copy of divorce papers half-hidden under his father’s work files.

He wasn’t going to tell the team that the whole month of December felt like a massive dissociation for him every single year to the point where - despite his eidetic memory - he couldn’t remember most of the Christmases of his childhood.

His younger years were enjoyable, at least, he thinks so; Filled with festivities and family-bonding. But as his growth was overshadowed by his mother's battle with schizophrenia, the jingling bells and festive lights brought memories of unpredictable episodes, turning what should have been joyful celebrations into overwhelming anxiety and stress.

The only Christmas he had a clear memory of was the one in 1990, the day he found out that his family was no longer a family at all. That’s a lot for a nine year old to handle, even if his mind preceded his age twice over.

“Spencer?” You knock - kick - at the front door of Spencer’s apartment, right on time for your bi-weekly movie session. “Spencer Reid? Hellooo?”

It takes a minute for Spencer to open the door, adjusting his thick-rimmed glasses as he does so. “Sorry I was just-“

Spencer cuts himself off as his eyes meet the large cardboard box in your hand, noting how you’re leaning it on top of your thigh with your leg balanced in the air so you don’t drop it. “What’s that for?”

“You’ll see,” You give him a half-smug smile as you push your way past him into his apartment, dumping the box on his coffee table and shaking out your arms to relive them of the ache of carrying its weight for the last several minutes.

Spencer follows soon after you, pushing the door closed and tilting his head at the box like a puppy who’d just been presented with a ball for the first time.

Its oddly endearing, and you find yourself getting distracted from the box as you take in the way the warm lighting of his apartment cascades over the side of his face, leaving a soft shadow that accentuates his jawline in the most perfect way to make your stomach do a flip in your torso and stir a kaleidoscope of butterflies awry in its wake.

You’re thrust back into reality by Spencer speaking your name, his tone so sweet you’re sure it could give you cavities. “What’s in the box?”

“Oh- right, right yeah uh-“ You peel the tape off of one side of the box, peeling it open to let the two flaps at the top of the box loose. “Okay don’t be mad at me-“

You slowly open the box up to let Spencer look inside it properly. It was completely filled to the brim with a collection of miscellaneous decorations fit for the Christmas season, all neatly packed into smaller boxes and plastic containers, separated with labels on each.

Spencer says your name again as his eyes scan the contents of the box, this time with much less sweetness and much more apprehension.

“Why did you—“

Reid cuts himself off for a second time in the last five minutes as he reads the labels on the smaller boxes, getting caught on one lining the main box’s long side. “You brought a tree?”

It’s a small one,”

Spencer looks at you like you’ve just released a mischief of rats into his apartment.

He was expecting to be sat on his couch with you at his side, devouring cheap take-away pizza whilst indulging in multiple hours of re-runs of Doctor Who. Instead, you’d dumped a box of Christmas decorations on his coffee table which he can only assume you’ll hound him into putting up.

He’d been ambushed.

“You know I’m not really fond of the whole Christmas thing,” Spencer says, running a hand through the fluffy mess of brown hair that you would gladly spend hours with your fingers in if he’d let you.

“I know you aren’t Spencer, but this is the time of year where people are supposed to spend time with the people they care about, I’m not going to let you spend it hauled up in an undecorated apartment by yourself,” You begin to unload the boxes onto his coffee table with a soft sigh.

“It’s just another day,” Spencer’s voice is soft, appreciative of you going out of your way to do something like this for him but also not entirely sure of the point of it. “Besides, don’t you have plans with your family?”

“They’re on the other side of the country Spence, and as much as I love them i’m not taking that trip down, just in case something comes up with the team,” You unbox the artificial tree first, pulling it out of its box and tugging the flattened branches outwards to make it look more tree-like. “So i’m saddled up here for the holidays,”

You move the tree over to a side table next to one of the walls of Spencer’s apartment, the dark green complimenting the olive of his walls.

“Do we really have to do this?” Spencer’s voice is non-confrontational, not wanting to fight with you.

“It’ll be fun I promise,” You blink up at him with those eyes of yours and there’s no way in hell he’s going to be able to say no to you.

Spencer sighs softly, dragging his fingers over his closed eyelids under his glasses before reluctantly opening a plastic container labelled ‘lights’, beginning to untangle one of the strings of lights from the others. “I don’t think I’ve put up a tree since I was around eight or nine,”

“You don’t think?” You raise an eyebrow at him as you continue to adjust the faux branches of the tabletop tree.

“I- don’t actually remember most of my Christmases…” Spencer’s pursed smile fills you with an overwhelming amount of upset sympathy that he can immediately read all over your face. “I was never exactly ‘enraptured’ with it anyway,”

That was a total lie.

Spencer tries to shrug off your concern as he successfully manages to untangle the lights. “Did you know that the first ever rendition of ‘Christmas’ as we know it happened roughly 5000 years ago?”

And there goes Spencer’s distraction technique. He’d always manage to turn the attention away from himself and towards something academic when he was becoming uncomfortable with his own vulnerability.

“It was originally actually celebrated on December 21st as a celebration of the mid-winter solstice, and the Neolithics, or new stone age people, would gather around Stonehenge to have feasts and exchange gifts with each other, even playing music associated with the holiday on bone flutes from the cattle used for the feast.”

A part of you wants to stop Spencer’s tangent, to bring the topic back to why Christmas was such a bad time of the year for him as a child that it caused gaps in his memory despite him remembering the rest of his life down to the most minor of details. But another part of you knows that if it’s that bad, maybe it’s best to leave it be. He’ll tell you when he’s ready to.

“So-“ Spencer rummages around for a few seconds in one of his drawers to pull out some batteries for the lights, then turning a warm yellow once they’re powered, twinkling on and off intermittently. “How do we know what goes where?”

He begins to carefully wrap the lights around the length of the tree down in a spiral, leaving the battery box in the small fake pot underneath the tree. He at least knows where to put the lights.

“We vibe it,” You shrug your shoulders softly at his question as you go back over to the coffee table to retrieve your box of baubles, a mix of red and off white, with a few of them covered in glitter.

“We- Vibe it?” Spencer furrows his expression slightly as he watches you arbitrarily place one of the baubles on the tree.

That was one of the things he remembered about decorating with his parents when he was younger. The tree was organised. And he remembers the arguments that spanned from what should have been a family-bonding activity.

The end result always looked more like one of those display Christmas trees in department stores than a Christmas tree put together by a loving family. But he supposes it makes sense considering the dynamic of his parents.

“Yep, we vibe it,” You pick up a second bauble to hang from the tree. “Just try not to put too many of the same colour in one area otherwise it can look a little dodgy,”

“Right- Okay…” It doesn’t take long for him to get a feel for where the baubles should be going, and he follows your lead in hanging them on the branches.

He’s a lot less stressed than the fragmented memories of his show him he should be as he decorates the small tree with you, and he’s sure it’s because the soft smile adorning your features as you pass him baubles of different colours and sizes houses some sort of black magic that just erases all semblance of negativity from his mind.

After a few minutes, Spencer takes a step back from the tree to look over his work, feeling pretty satisfied with himself, a small smile gracing his features that the warm light of the fairy lights only accentuates, casting a soft glow over his face. “Not bad,”

“Ah-” You hold up a hand as you rifle through the box, pulling out a very obviously handmade tree topper in the vague appearance of a fairy. “One more thing,”

“A fairy?” Spencer takes the topper from your hand carefully, as if he’s afraid of breaking it if he were to hold onto it too tightly. “Who made this?”

“I did-“ An almost unnoticeable flush covers your cheeks as you watch him examine the cone of white card with a painted styrofoam head and yarn for hair, wings cut out of translucent iridescent lining and haphazardly folded into shape over jeweller’s wire. “When i was a kid-“

“It’s adorable,” Spencer’s voice proves his genuinity. He feels somewhat touched by the fact that you still had it. “You’ve been holding on to this for years?”

“Yeah- I usually put it on top of my tree at home but I figured that you’d benefit more from it this year than I would-“ Spencer almost melts at your thoughtfulness. It’s honestly one of the sweetest things he thinks anyone has ever done for him. It obviously meant a lot to you, and yet here you were, surrendering it into Spencer’s care to try and make his holiday season more festive.

“That’s- really sweet of you…” He smiles fondly, gently placing the topper on top of the tree, rotating it slightly so it faces into the main portion of his living room. "It looks like you,"

You laugh softly at the statement, “Vaguely,”

The fairy-topped tree now radiates a cozy warmth in Spencer's living room. The soft glow from the lights and the sentimental touch of the handmade topper seem to transform the atmosphere, creating a space that feels more like a home than just a place to reside.

As you both step back to admire the decorated tree, a sense of accomplishment fills the room. Spencer's eyes linger on the fairy topper, appreciating the connection it holds to your childhood and the kindness behind your gesture.

"We’re not done yet,” You grasp both of his shoulders in your hands for a second, giving them a soft squeeze before heading back over to the box to continue decorating around his apartment.

He smiles at the sight of your enthusiasm. “You’re getting carried away,” Spencer’s tone borders a laugh as you start to scatter decorations around his living room.

You hang a line of gold tinsel along the mantle of his faux fireplace, drape a string of fairy lights over his bookshelf, and hand him small festive table toppers for him to scatter into spaces on his home office, and slowly but surely, his apartment radiates that festive energy associated with the Christmas season.

“You can never have too many decorations,” You shake your head softly at Spencer as he glances over the decorations you’d shoved into his hands.

“But do I really need any decorations?” Spencer sighs softly, slowly putting down the decorations flooding his arms down on his dining table, trying not to sound unappreciative of your efforts.

A little part of him wants to tell you that all of these decorations weren’t really making him feel any better about the holiday season; But he wants to see you happy, even if he has no desire to decorate the place himself.

“It’s just me here,” he adds softly.

“That doesn’t matter,” you tilt your head at him slightly as you retreat back to the cardboard box to retrieve more decorations. “Besides,”

Your eyes catch on a small sprig of mistletoe, and you adjust the wiring to flatten it out properly as you pull it out of the box. “You never know,”

“You expect me to bring someone over here?” Spencer laughs in a mix of astonishment and embarrassment. “Who would I even bring over?”

You respond only with a shrug of your shoulders as you pick up one of Spencer’s dining chairs, carrying it over to the front door so that you can stand on it to comfortably reach the door frame.

“This is way too extra,” he says, looking at the mistletoe that’s now being fastened above his front door as he stands at your side, one hand braced on the back of the dining chair to make sure that you don’t accidentally tip yourself over. “What if I bring someone back and it’s all awkward?”

“You just have an excuse to kiss anyone you think is attractive when they walk into your apartment, sounds like a win win to me,” You hop off of the dining chair once you’re finished, bringing it back to its rightful place under his dining table.

Spencer flushes slightly. “You do realize what you’re saying, right?” he asks. “Like you’re insinuating me going out of my apartment, bringing a random person in here, and kissing them immediately upon entry.”

You give him a pointed look that silently tells him that he’s reading too much into it as you pack up the rest of the box, satisfied with your work. “It’s about time you got some lovin’ Spence,”

It’s not like he doesn’t agree with your sentiment, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not extremely flustered.

“I’m not sure anyone is interested,” He says that like he hadn’t almost had a fling with a hollywood actress a few years ago, like he didn’t constantly have women fawning over him during cases, like you weren’t completely head over heels for him to the point where you’d gone out of your way to spend your saturday night decorating his apartment for Christmas to try and make his holiday season a little more enjoyable.

This man had to be the most oblivious profiler in the FBI; And it made you want to cup those beautiful cheeks in your hands and kiss those beautiful pink lips until his beautiful brain understood just how wrong he was.

Spencer clears his throat at his own awkwardness as he tries to move the topic of conversation away from his love life, his eyes flickering around the main room of his apartment. “I uh, you did a good job with the decor,”

“Thank you, thank you,” You oblige to his change of subject with a dramatic bow, fearing you’ll implode if you think about how obliviously attractive Spencer is any longer.

“Now we can watch a movie,” You move the, now thankfully much lighter, box off of the coffee table to give a clear view of the television from Spencer’s couch. “A Christmas movie.”

Spencer’s eyes widen a little bit as you mention watching a Christmas movie. “Is that something I can opt out of?”

“No?” You give him a look of mock offense as you push him over to the couch to sit down, and he reluctantly obliges with a sigh. “It’s a movie night, and it’s the middle of December, we have to watch a Christmas movie, it’s a rite of passage,”

He’s never been a fan of any of the cliche christmas movies, even if they’re supposed to be cheesy and fun.

He’s willing to compromise, though. For your sake.

“Can it at least be a good Christmas movie and not something that has a plot that was clearly written by the Hallmark Channel?”

“We’re watching the Grinch duh,” You furrow your expression as if the movie choice is obvious, handing him the remote as you grab your satchel bag and hurry off into the kitchen.

“I will be back in like two minutes, don’t even think of trying to escape from this,”

“I’m not going anywhere don’t worry,” Spencer sighs with a soft smile as he watches you disappear around the corner. Even if the Grinch movie doesn’t sound like his cup of tea, he’d do just about anything for you.

He scours through Netflix as you busy yourself in his kitchen, and you waltz back out a few minutes later with a small tray housing two steaming mugs and two plastic wrapped candy canes, placing it on the coffee table in front of him. “Et voila,”

Spencer doesn’t have to ask to know what the mugs hold, he can smell the chocolate from his seat. “Alrighty then, christmas movie time it is,”

Spencer watches as you make yourself comfortable next to him, crossing your legs and draping a throw blanket from the arm of the couch over your legs, and it’s hard not to look at you and think about how comfortable it would be for him to lie with his head in his lap with your hands running through his hair. The idea makes him all flustered, and he hides his flush behind his mug as he takes a sip of his drink.

“You’re sure that we can’t just watch Doctor Who like we were supposed to?”

All it takes is a small slump of your shoulders at his question and Spencer’s resolve quickly melts like snow in the sun.

“Alright, you win,” he sighs. “I’ll watch the Grinch.”

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to Spence,” You concede defeat at Spencer’s disinterest in watching the film. You’d already forced him into decorating and you were starting to feel guilty for forcing all of this onto him.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Spencer shakes his head softly at you. You’re sharing something that you enjoy with him, who is he to shut you down? Especially considering how many times he’d over shared about his own interests. “It’s only two hours,”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Why did the Grinch’s heart grow three sizes?” Spencer asks, his eyebrow raised as the credits play. “I don’t get it.”

“it’s a metaphor Spence, it doesn’t actually grow three sizes,”

“I know it’s not literally growing,” Spencer dead-pans. “I’m just wondering if there’s a reason why they put three specifically.” He seems to be looking for some deeper meaning in watching this movie, even if he’s not really engaged with it.

“Like is the Grinch’s heart growing meant to be a sign of him becoming a better person?”

“Yeah, because at the beginning it was two sizes too small, so if it grows three sizes, now he has a ‘big heart’ that’s full of love and empathy and all that stuff,”

Spencer’s gaze burns into you as you explain the metaphor to him. It’s not an ‘i’m trying to really understand this‘ gaze, but rather a ‘I’m engaging in something you enjoy and trying to understand and you’re so perfect when you talk’ gaze.

“Like, he’s realising ‘hey Christmas isn’t so bad when you have people who love and care about you to spend it with’,”

“Is that what Christmas is to you?” Spencer asks, his tone genuinely intrigued. “A way of spending time with the people you love?”

“Yeah-“ You give him a small nod, joined with a yawn as you stretch your arms up above your head. “That’s the whole point of Christmas,”

Spencer smiles warmly at you, although he’s not entirely sure whether it’s because of how you describe what Christmas means to you, or because when you stretch you scrunch up your nose like a cat would. “What now?”

“I should probably head home and stop bothering you with my overwhelming desire for christmas to just happen,” You let your arms fall back to your sides with a satisfied sigh, glancing at the grandfather clock Spencer has against his wall. 12:25. Looks like you spent longer decorating than you thought.

“It’s pretty late,”

“Yeah, it is,” Spencer follows your eyes over to the clock, hiding his subconscious disappointment over your inevitable departure as you retreat to his front door to put your shoes on.

“Let me escort you to your car,” he says quietly, following after you. “It’s dark outside.”

You chuckle softly at his offer, leaning your shoulder against his apartment door and lifting up your legs one at a time to tie your shoelaces. “You really don’t have to Spence it’s alright,”

“I want to,” His tone is soft, and you can’t help but notice that he cuts off his sentence abnormally quickly as if his words got stuck in his throat, and as you drop your left leg back down to the floor and turn your head to him, you notice he’s not looking at you, but above you.

Your eyes follow his up to what he’s looking at, catching on the mix of white and green fauna directly above your head.

Oh-

You’d royally screwed yourself over. God damn it. The night was going so well.

As you follow Spencer’s gaze, he immediately becomes distracted by the way your eyes are looking up at the mistletoe above you, glistening softly under the warm lighting in his apartment, and he almost implodes because god damn is your face gorgeous when you’re all flustered.

“Did you know that mistletoe was originally used by ancient celtic druids as a symbol of good luck to protect against evil spirits?”

There’s that distraction technique again. Although, his tangent is much more of a ramble as his eyes examine the mistletoe above the door as if it’s an exhibit in a museum.

“The Greeks also used mistletoe as a medicine for almost every ailment you can think of, from cramping to epilepsy and even poisonings. The custom of kissing underneath mistletoe wasn’t developed until the 1700s when victorians-“

“Spencer stop.”

He does ask you ask immediately, blinking at you as his eyes snap downwards towards your face, his expression a mix of hurt and embarrassment. “Oh- I- I’m sorry I didn’t-“

“Just-“ You put your hand up in front you effectively halting his attempt at an apology. “Stop speaking,”

“Right… I’m sorry…” Spencer purses his lips together, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he’s sure it’ll bleed.

He didn’t want to make the situation uncomfortable. That was quite literally the last thing he wanted to do. God, what was he thinking? Why did he let you hang that god damn plant above his door?

“I’ll- you-“ He takes a sharp breath in, closing his eyes for a second. “I’ll see you on Monda-“

He doesn’t have time to finish his sentence as you again stop him from speaking, but not with a raised hand or a verbal signal.

No. Instead, his words are ripped of the chance to be spoken by a tug on the collar of his t-shirt and a gentle pressure against his lips.

Spencer can’t help the widening of his eyes as your lips press against his, nor can he stop the gasp that escapes his mouth as you effectively swallow his apology with your lips.

Those soft, perfect lips that Spencer had been dreaming about for god knows how long.

No, he knows exactly how long. 1,472 days, 6 hours and 15 minutes.

The sharp tick of the grandfather clock cuts through the soft silence between you.

1,472 days, 6 hours and sixteen minutes.

He effectively melts in your affection, the feeling of your hands sliding into his hair at his temples, the subtle taste of mint on your lips from the candy cane you’d been eating whilst watching the movie.

And the heat, oh, the heat.

He never knew one person could be this hot, this warm.

Spencer’s hands go to your waist as he gently pulls you further against him, his eyelashes fluttering softly as they fall closed.

You're kissing the man of your dreams. And enjoying every second of it.

And the best part? He's enjoying it just as much.

“Merry Christmas Spencer…” Your words are little more than a whisper as you mumble them against his lips, your thumbs tracing slow lines in front of his ears.

Spencer can’t help but gasp softly at the weight of your words, and this time not because you’d caught him by surprise, but because he's completely lost in you.

He’s starting to understand the Grinch metaphor you were explaining to him earlier, although his heart doesn’t feel like it’s growing three times over. It feels as though it’s growing ten times over. A hundred times over. That it might burst out of his chest with just how much he was feeling in this moment.

"Merry Christmas..."

He whispers your name softly, barely able to get it out over the slight quiver in his breathing.

This was the best Christmas present he’d ever gotten.

[watermelonlovershigh]

In Sickness and in Health {part. 9} (housemate!harry series)

The Next Morning {part. 8} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

AN: sorry this part took so long. it took me forever to write. it's quite a longer part so i hope you enjoy reading. don't forget to leave your feedback and reblog. also i think something went wrong with my taglist so if you weren't sent this from me tagging you, idk what happened. xoxo

This story contains: vomit (stomach bug), sickness comfort, fluff, crying, mentions of neglectful ex partners, accidentally dropping "L" bomb at the end

{ housemate!harry - friends to lovers - boyfriend!harry - softrry - teacher!harry - au!harry }

word count- 3,750

Harry unfortunately catches a stomach virus the day after you made your relationship official and you have to pick him up from work and take care of him for the rest of day, which he greatly appreciates.

Harry woke up on Monday morning and started getting ready for work as usual. Despite feeling a slight cramp in his stomach, he chose to disregard it. Just before leaving the house, he returned to your bedroom where both of you had slept the previous night and gently kissed his girlfriend's forehead. You were still asleep, having the flexibility to work from home, so there was usually no need for you to wake up at the same time as Harry. On his way out the front door, he grabbed a banana from the kitchen before making his way to his car.

--------------------------

The stomach cramps that Harry felt while getting ready for work are still present, and as he starts teaching his first class of the day, he realizes that they're only getting worse. Initially, the sensation in his stomach was similar to cramps, but as time goes on, it becomes more of a swirling feeling that makes it difficult for him to focus on his task of teaching. Eventually, Harry opts to handing out worksheets for his students so he can sit down and attempt to alleviate the ache in his stomach.

Ultimately, the plan falls through because he reaches a point where he senses he's about to vomit all over his desk, in front of all his students, if he doesn't immediately go to the bathroom. Harry quietly gets up from his desk and leaves the classroom without any explanation. If he had more time, he would have requested his neighboring teacher to supervise his class while he steps out, but he's worried there's no time for that.

Upon reaching the hallway, Harry quickens his pace towards the nearby teachers' bathroom. Fortunately, they were conveniently located not too far from his own classroom. Without wasting a moment, he swiftly enters the one toilet bathroom, closes the door, and securely locks it behind him. Rushing towards the toilet, Harry manages to make it just in time. As he stands in front of the somewhat grimy white porcelain, he began to throw up the lasagna you'd cooked the night before and remnants of the banana he had forced himself to eat this morning.

When Harry completes the gross task, he straightens up, breathe labored, and retrieves some toilet paper to cleanse his nose and mouth. Subsequently, he flushes the toilet to prevent any further discomfort from the sight of his own puke. Now, he faces a dilemma. Is it possible that his sickness was a one-time occurrence, allowing him to continue teaching for the remainder of the day? Or, should he call and ask you to pick him up? He decides to pick the first option, unless he begins to feel sick again later on.

--------------------------

Despite his best efforts, Harry can only make it until lunchtime before he finally gives in and calls you to come pick him up. He's been sick twice more since the first incident, and there doesn't seem to be any improvement in his condition. On top of Harry's queasy stomach, he now has a pounding headache and doesn't want to take the chance of driving himself home and getting into an accident. It's really frustrating because just yesterday you both decided to make your relationship official, and now Harry is feeling terribly ill. This was definitely not how he had planned today going.

He wanted to come home and canoodle you all evening. Make you dinner and begin working on his promise of all the places he intends on fucking you in. But instead, he's presumably got some sort of stomach bug that hinders any of that from happening.

Alone in his classroom while his students are at lunch, he pulls out his cellphone and dials up your number.

"Hello." you pick up with an upbeat tone, unaware of how the conversation is about to go. By looking at the time on your laptop, you assume Harry's on his lunch break and has a moment to talk. He's called you on his lunch break in the past, but now it feels different. You're boyfriend and girlfriend. His calls feel more meaningful now.

Harry nervously requests through the phone, "M' sorry to bother you, but could you come pick me up? I think I've caught some sort of stomach bug. I've thrown up three times already and m' not feelin' any better. I've also got a headache now. M' not sure if I can drive myself home."

You've never heard Harry sound so, bleh, since your time of knowing him. All the happiness he usually carries in his voice is gone and it breaks your heart to hear. You immediately set your laptop down and stand from the couch to slip a pair of shoes on. "Yeah Harry, I'll come and get you. Whereabouts do I need to park?"

"Just at the front entrance. I'll walk up to your car." he mumbles, not wanting to talk too much with a queasy belly.

"Okay, I'll be there shortly. Hang tight." you finish the phone call off before hanging up and grabbing your keys to head out the door. If Harry feels as bad as he sounded over the phone, you'd hate for him to stay any longer then he has to. Poor thing must be miserable.

--------------------------

When you reach the school's entrance, you see Harry standing there with his teacher's satchel hanging over his shoulder and a hand casually resting on his stomach. After placing the car in park, Harry quickly opens the passenger door and climbs in. He's ridden in your car just a few times before, mainly when you go grocery shopping or when grabbing a meal together.

As soon as Harry shuts the car door, he tries to get settled in car seat as best as possible while feeling like total shit. "Thank you for comin' to get me. Don't think I would've made it if I had to drive myself home."

Before placing the car back into drive, you coo over to him softly, "It's no problem, really. I hate that you're so sick. You were fine all weekend. When did you begin feeling sick?"

"While I was gettin' ready for work this mornin', I noticed my belly crampin' but ignored it. Then durin' my first class of the day, the crampin' turned into nausea before I ended up bein' sick in the teacher's toilet."

With the car in drive now, you begin pulling out of the school's lot and make the journey back to Harry's (yours too technically) house. "Awe, well I'll take care of you. No worries. In sickness and in health."

Harry abruptly turns his head to face you, worsening the throbbing headache he had been enduring, and instantly regretting his impulsive action. "What?" he responds with a touch of confusion, though internally filled with excitement over the end of your statement. "In sickness and in health? We only started datin' yesterday, we're not married." He refrains from expressing his true desire for future marriage.

Smiling playfully at the road, you reply, "I understand that, but I believe when you truly care about someone, you should stick to that commitment regardless of marriage. And since I'm your girlfriend and you're now my boyfriend, it means I care about you deeply and will take care of you, no matter the circumstances." What you really wanted to say is when you love someone alot, but didn't want to throw the love bomb in this conversation, afraid of how he'd react.

Harry feels as though he might throw up again and not from his stomach bug this time, but rather due to the pure admiration he feels towards you. Your endless compassion and selflessness towards him has the ability to make his heart feel as though it could burst at any given moment. He reciprocates these feelings wholeheartedly, even from the early stages of your relationship when you were just housemates and acquaintances. During that time, he took care of you when you were sick due to your period cramps, showcasing his genuine concern for your well-being during a time where you were most vularable.

--------------------------

After a ten-minute drive, you finally arrive home, and Harry silently expresses his gratitude towards the heavens above for helping him keep his stomach under control. He really didn't want to accidentally be sick in your car or have you pull over suddenly so he could spew on the side of the road. He's determined not to disgust his new girlfriend too much on your first full day together, although he's confident that you would have handled the situation with grace.

Getting out of the car, you instruct, "Go lie in bed and I'll bring you some medicine and plain crackers, alright. I'm gonna take care of you."

"Noo....." Harry whines as he drags his feet along the pavement to the front door, "don't wanna eat anythin'."

"But Harry, you need something on your tummy."

Huffing, he argues, "M' just gonna throw it back up and I don't wanna be sick again. I hate throwin' up."

You unlock the front door and step inside the living room, slipping off your shoes and placing your keys down. "I know baby but the medicine on an empty stomach may make you feel worse. Just a few nibbles is all I'm asking. And if you get sick afterwards, that's okay. At least I know you tried for me." Hey, you used the term 'baby' in a non sexual setting and it felt good. It felt right.

Harry makes his way to his bedroom and strips his work attire off before settling into the disheveled bed without a care in the world. Exhausted from the virus, he quickly falls asleep after laying his head on the pillow. His cat Pixie cuddled into his side. However, his slumber is short-lived as he's gently awakened, being asked to sit up and take the tablets that will hopefully help his sick tummy and headache. Along with the crackers you promised minutes prior.

He sits up and takes the pills with a glass of water but hesitates on the crackers. "Don't wanna." Harry whines again.

A smile escapes you as you observe his deeply furrowed brow. If you didn't know any better, you would assume Harry was a child, considering his current demeanor. Nevertheless, you don't hold it against him because you can be just as whiny when you're under the weather. Additionally, you empathize with the fear of being forced to eat something while suffering from an upset stomach. The fear of being sick again. "I understand Harry, but just try taking a small bite. That's all I'm asking for. Then I'll let you rest"

Reluctantly, Harry brings the cracker up to his mouth and takes a small bite, chewing it slowly before pushing the rest of the cracker aside. You take it from him and place it on his nightstand, in case he wants some later. Then you place his glass of water beside his bed, ready for when he becomes thirsty again. "Thank you. Now, rest. I'll be in the living room, finishing up the work I was doing before I came to get you. If you need me, call for me, okay. I'll hear you."

Laying down with the covers up to his chin, Harry mummers a quiet, "Okay." and you lean down to place a gentle kiss on his warm forehead.

--------------------------

Harry gets about an hour of rest before he awakens to his tummy swirling again. He lays there, trying to breath his nausea away, but to his luck, he only feels more and more sick as the minutes pass. So he finally makes the decision to get up and go to the bathroom. From your spot on the sofa, you hear footsteps on the creaky wood floor and then see Harry emerge from his bedroom and go inside the bathroom in the hallway.

You wait a few seconds, thinking he may have just needed to use the toilet, when you're suddenly startled by the sounds of dry heaving. Concerned, you decide to go check on your boyfriend. Approaching the bathroom door, you cringe at the sounds of Harry being sick. You have always found it difficult to be around someone who is vomiting or hearing those sounds, but you're determined to be there for Harry. With a deep breath, you turn the doorknob and cautiously enter the bathroom.

The scene in front of you is truly heartbreaking. Although you haven't known Harry for very long, less than a year in fact, during the time you've spent with him, you've never seen him in such a weak and vulnerable state. You long for the return of your cheerful and smiling boyfriend, not the sickly one with clammy skin, likely from a cold sweat. "Oh, Harry," you murmur softly as you approach the cabinet to retrieve a cloth to soothe his sweaty skin.

Taking a deep breath over the toilet bowl, he replies, "M' alright, m' alright."

Now with the cool, damp cloth in your hand, you kneel down on the hard floor and gently blot the rag on his pale skin. Being thoughtful, Harry reaches up to flush the toilet so you don't get exposed to the disgusting sight of his puke. "Do you feel better now?"

Harry shakes his head no before speaking with a raspy voice, due to him having gotten sick several times today, "Not really. Still feel sick to m' stomach. You can leave if you want. You don't have to be in here and watch me get sick. M' sure the sight is very unpleasant."

"Harry, I'm not leaving you, okay. I'm gonna be in here and take care of you. You took care of me a while back when I was throwing up from my period cramps. Told me not to be embarrassed because we all get sick from time to time. So now we're even."

Harry, too sick to reply, fixates his gaze on the toilet as you gently glide the wet cloth across his skin. Despite his desire to express how good that cloth feels, the rising bile in his throat hinders him. He straightens his posture, positioning his head over the toilet. Once his mouth begins to water, he realizes his impending fate. A loud retching sound escapes his throat, followed by the expulsion of whatever little remains in his stomach. In order to shield yourself from the sight of him vomiting, you instinctively turn away, fearing the potential of falling ill yourself.

Thankfully, Harry's hair is held back by one of the small black clips you'd left on the bathroom counter, so that's one less thing he has to worry about. After throwing up this time, you can hear him making further attempts to bring up more, but unfortunately, he's unsuccessful. Probably because he's already been sick multiple times today and his stomach is now completely empty of food.

After finally calming down, he agrees when you suggest, "Why don't we get you back in bed and I'll bring you more medicine? Sitting in front of the toilet seems to be making you feel worse." You assist Harry in standing up and hold his hand as you guide him towards his bedroom. Although he would have liked to brush his teeth, he's sadly too exhausted to even lift the toothbrush to his mouth

He gets settled back in bed and you hurry and grab the medicine to help soothe his nausea. Within minutes, you're back at his side, handing him the pills and his glass of water. He swallows the medicine slowly and begins to relax. As you're about to leave, Harry stops you. "Y/n...... could you, um, can you come cuddle me, please. Know you were workin' but um, I'd really like a cuddle." How can you say no to that.

Turning around, you smile gently and say, "Of course. Let me go switch my laptop off. I'll be right back." You go back to the living room and close your laptop, then return to Harry's bedroom. You climb into bed beside him, being careful not to disturb Pixie who has moved to the foot of her dad's bed, and scoot over to cuddle with your boyfriend of a day.

Harry shifts his position, resting his head on your chest, and starts apologizing. "M' sorry. This is not the way I envisioned today goin'. After the incredible day we had yesterday and us becomin' official, I had hoped for today to go the same. Planned to fulfill my promise of fuckin' you in at least one of the places I promised I would." Despite the fact that his words would have sounded amusing under different circumstances, his illness causes him to speak in a casual tone, unintentionally adding a touch of humor.

Running your fingers through his sweaty hair, you mutter, "Harry, don't apologize for being sick. You can't control if you get sick or not. And don't worry about that. Once you're sickness leaves, we'll have plenty of time to work on those promises, alright. Now get some rest and later I'll make you some soup. Wake me up if you feel sick again."

More than anything, Harry wants to reply with an agreement followed by the three words, 'I love you', but can't. Not yet. Not until he knows you're ready to hear that. So instead, he nods his head slightly against your chest and shuts his eyes, praying the medicine you gave him works and he doesn't get sick anymore today.

--------------------------

At seven that night, you awoke from your slumber. Sitting up in bed, you stretched and observed your boyfriend still in a deep sleep. He seemed less pale, indicating a positive change, although he remained slightly sweaty. Quietly, you got out of bed and made your way to the kitchen to start working on the soup you had promised Harry earlier, hoping he would have an appetite by now.

Upon completing the homemade chicken noodle soup, you carefully carried a bowl to Harry's room and helped him sit up to have his meal. You fed him, aware that his hands might be a bit shaky, and he is in complete awe of the kindness you have shown him today. He ponders, had you not made your relationship official yesterday, would you still be just as caring towards him. Of course, you would.

By this point in the day, his stomach had thankfully settled and he had even developed a slight craving for your scrumptious soup. After he had finished eating, you aided Harry in taking a bath. You prepared a warm bath and added bubbles to create an extra soothing atmosphere. Initially, your plan was to kneel on the bathmat beside the tub and assist him from there, but he insisted that you join him. Without hesitation, you joined him in the bath.

This signifies the first time you and Harry are sharing a bath, without any sexual implications. Inside the tub, you allowed Harry to lean back onto your body, gently caressing his tummy beneath the water. He expresses his satisfaction with a pleasurable moan and nearly dozes off against you. As the water temperature decreases, you begin to thoroughly wash his hair and body.

Breaking the quietness of the room, Harry whispers, "Thank you so much, Y/n. Like really, thank you. What you've done for me today means so much to me. More than you even understand." You stop the sponge along his skin when you realize he's actually getting emotional.

"Baby," you coo softly from behind him, "you don't have to thank me. I want to care for you. Did all your previous partners not want to care for you when you were sick?"

With tears welling up in his eyes, he proceeds to explain, "To be honest, not really. There was this one incident during my college years when I had caught a terrible cold. My girlfriend at the time expressed her reluctance to getting sick, so she never bothered to visit me in my dorm even once. Also didn't bother to call and check up on me. Then, about four years ago, I went on a date with my boyfriend at the time, Mark, to a restaurant. Unfortunately, I ended up with food poisoning and instead of offering any assistance, he simply drove me home and told me he would see me once I recovered. Hence, I don't expect a partner to do what you have done for me. It feels so nice to have someone take care of you when you're unwell that's not your own mother"

--------------------------

After the bath where you had some deep and vulnerable conversations, you assisted Harry out of the tub. After drying both yourself and him off with a towel, you helped him change into a fresh pair of briefs. You then directed him to lay down in your bed, as his sheets needed to be replaced due to them being soiled with sweat and germs from his stomach bug.

Turning off all the lights, you proceeded to your room, where Harry was lying down with Pixie nestled on his chest, enjoying the gentle strokes he gave her behind her ear as she purred contentedly. The bond he shares with his cat is truly adorable. He loves that cat more than anything, even you. Though you guess that's understandable since he's had that cat way longer than he's even known you for.

You take hold of the tv remote and select a movie on Netflix to watch until both of you nearly drift off to sleep once more. Harry is optimistic and hopeful that he will feel better tomorrow. He doesn't think he'll be able to return to work just yet, but is relieved that the nausea has subsided. Thankfully, the soup you prepared has stayed down, indicating a positive sign.

As your eyes grow heavy with fatigue, threatening to succumb to sleep, you feel Harry nestling himself closer to your side, followed by a hushed declaration of "Love you." In spite of your stillness, your eyes widen in surprise. Shifting your head slightly, you observe that Harry has already slipped into sleep, seemingly oblivious to his inadvertent admission.

Regardless of his true intentions, you are certain that this wasn't how he intended to convey his love for you. Now, you must find a way to approach this subject with him, hoping he doesn't get embarrassed or worse, deny the authenticity of his words.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @allthelovehes // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe140  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

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______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

"Do you love me?" {part. 10}

[skiddlecat]

you know what? fuck it. the dynamic between taco and microphone is really interesting and dumbing it down to "evil terrible abuser and poor innocent victim" flattens both of their characters simultaneously.

they both hurt Each Other in ways that can't be undone!!! mic did her fair share of Fucking It Up Big Time as well and i think the way their fallout went down is the best example of times mic could have been better. and before anyone says it NO i'm NOT saying she didn't have a right to back out when she did but what i AM saying is that i think the way she handled cutting taco off showcases one of her biggest character flaws EXCELLENTLY:

when she's hurt by someone, she will hurt them back twice as hard. cheesy makes an insensitive joke? she calls him a monster. taco relapses in her bad habits? she weaponizes her past friendship with pickle. i'm pretty confident in saying both of these responses are Pretty Damn Disproportionate. and i think that's really interesting!!! we should talk more about this!!!!!!!!!

taco did a lot of bad things in their friendship and should absolutely be held accountable for it, but i also think simply calling her a heartless abuser is horribly undermining her character. like, imagine with me, if you will:

(post-writing note. HOLY SHIT this was way longer than i thought it'd be. putting the rest of this post under the cut because the previous paragraphs are pretty much all my thoughts but i kind of go into a full taco character analysis below. if you want to see that then keep reading i suppose LMAOOO)

you once accidentally formed a friendship with someone based off of a lie. you exposed the lie, sabotaged that relationship, and cut him off. that was the last conversation you had. a good while later you realize that, oh no, you actually DID care about this person, and you miss him! but he's GONE and it's YOUR FAULT!!! so you write. you write, you write, you write, hoping to get a response, but you never do.

and then. and then you find someone else. someone who's loud, chaotic, cast out. she reminds you a little too much of the lie you built for yourself. and so, you help her. for your own selfish reasons, sure, but you attempt to reign her in. she doesn't trust you at first, you don't trust her either, and you are... less than kind to her. it's not pretty, but at this point it doesn't really matter to you, because right now she's just a means to an end. she doesn't mean anything to you.

but slowly, over time, things start changing. she starts seeing past the brick walls you built around yourself. starts trying to break them down, little by little. you avoid, you resist, you do everything you can to prevent her from getting through, because vulnerability is frankly disgusting, and you don't want to talk about your problems anyway! but, this doesn't last. you actually apologize to her, for being so closed off, because you should be doing better, and she seems to appreciate it.

someone brings up that old friend to her. you get MAD. it's like rubbing salt in the wound, reminding you of every reason you're not happy, every reason you've been scared of getting too close. he suggests that you will leave her the same way you left him.

and. surprisingly. your ally does not side with him. she tells him you're changing. you're changing. she looks at you and all of your disgusting flaws, and she sees someone not beyond redemption. and you think that maybe. maybe you can trust her. maybe you CAN let your walls down. maybe you won't screw it up this time. and, and...

one mistake.

a pretty big one, granted, but a mistake nonetheless. you relapse into some bad habits, because the situation you entered was not the one you planned for. and she's mad. so mad, in fact, that she takes your old friendship, something she knows is a touchy subject, that hurts every time it's brought up, and she weaponizes it. she looks at you as if you mean nothing to her, and then she leaves. she leaves before you even have a chance to respond.

one. mistake.

one mistake is all it took for her to grow sick of you, for her to agree with all of the terrible things people say about you. and what hurts the most is that you TRUSTED her. you thought you could be open with her, you thought she was DIFFERENT. but no, she's not different. she's just like everyone else. and maybe, if the one person who believed you could be better gives up on you... maybe they're all right about you.

the walls are back up. they're thicker, stronger, and as far as you're concerned... it will take FAR more convincing to let anyone get through ever again.

...and then mepad comes along and says he doesn't even believe you're a bad person in the FIRST place, which is. astounding and very hard to believe but he's seeing you at your absolute worst being needlessly cruel to everyone and is STILL saying this with complete confidence so, fuck, kind of hard to keep THAT up for very long. then ii16 happens and you know the drill SHE'S DOING BAD.

hoo boy this went on for a lot longer than it was supposed to. anyway all this to say i think we should talk more about how they both hurt each other rather than push the narrative that one of them was "the abuser" and the other was "the victim" because frankly that's not even how it works in real life. thank you for coming to my ted talk i've been sitting on this for weeks afraid that i'd be told to kill myself over anons 👍

[sc0tters]

All Bark No Bite | Ethan Edwards

summary: you and Ethan have disliked each other from the moment you met. so what happens when you connect with some old friends from high school that just so happen to be on the other team that send Ethan the wrong idea?

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, p in v, thigh riding, minor mention of spanking, use of a Polaroid camera whilst having sex, swearing, use of the nickname brat and princess once or twice, use of y/n once too.

word count: 2.6k

authors note: wrote this last night after a rugby game, was running on three hours of sleep and pure excitement after the all blacks won… very much did love writing about Ethan and this was actually meant to be up yesterday but I literally got home at 1 in the morning. this request was highly detailed so I hope I did it justice!

You hated him.

Your and Ethan's little rivalry went back all the way to the first day of freshman year when he took your drink order at the coffee shop on campus because he had the same order and was late.

From that day on you hoped that he would rot in hell.

The hockey team were put in the middle of it all though when you joined the team as the new photographer. When you saw his face you were ready to quit, but you needed Coach Naurato's signature at the end of the season in order to pass the first year of your degree thus you stayed.

But that didn't mean that it was all cordial. The screaming matches you two would have were so frequent to the point where you two were not allowed in the same room together alone, not that either of you were ever going to complain about that.

So when you two hadn't said a single thing to each other in over two weeks, you were practically on cloud nine. You were at the top in all of your classes, you had a fuck buddy in Mark, and Ethan hadn't done anything to screw either of those two things up.

Ethan hated what you and Mark were, not only because of the fact that he said a wall with your bed buddy but also because the sounds of your moans had quickly become the only material he could use to jack-off to.

Just last night after hearing you leave the sophomore house when he dozed off to sleep Ethan was met with a harsh surprise, that was a dream about you.

He had to admit that he knew most of the image of you was true, he had seen your lacy thong that landed up in Marks washing and one time when you were in your office at the Yost you accidentally spilt a smoothie down your white shirt. Despite shutting the door, you had forgotten to shut the blinds by the window you had inside the office. That meant when Ethan walked past he was giving a front row seat to watch you get semi undressed. He knew it was wrong how his mouth watered at the sight of your blue bra but it just looked like it was made for your breasts.

Even though it was game day at the Yost, Ethan avoided you like the plague as he attempted to get that image out of his mind.

That's why it was so confusing to you when the conversation you were having with two of the Ohio state players was cut short by the Canadian. He had been glaring at the two boys unaware that you were catching up with them because the three of you went to high school together.

You wanted to slap that glare off of Ethan's face but as the players from Ohio were scattered around you knew that you would get in trouble if you did indeed hit him.

So instead when you saw he had his bag ready to go you dragged him to your office. It was far away enough from the main parts of the players areas so that nobody would hear you two.

You shut the door behind you and was ready to unleash your full fury at him "what the hell was that?" You both spoke at the same time.

Ethan was quicker to let out a scoff "you wanna tell me?" He asked taking a step towards you "fucking touching them like that." The boy added as you were now against your table as you tried to avoid being too close to him.

Yeah you had hugged both boys but that was because you hadn't seen them since the previous year "green is not a good colour for you," you pointed out with a laugh as he was acting rather jealous.

The comment made him roll his eyes "could you maybe not be a little brat for one second?" He cocked his head as he had now pushed you onto the table.

You knew that you were teetering on a fine line with him "what are you going to do if I don't?" The smirk was clear on your face and it only became more evident when his own facial expressions hardened.

He wanted to do it, he wanted to show you but Mark was acting like a mental blocker. Sure it was stupid but Ethan was a man of bro code "knew you'd be all bark and no bite." You mumbled shaking your head as you moved your hand to his chest to move past him.

That seemed to press the on button in the boys head as his hand cupped your cheek, and before you both knew it he was now kissing you.

It took you a second before you kissed him back causing what quickly became a fight between your tongues that you lost when Ethan placed a slap on your ass. The gesture was small but it brought a moan out of you and he felt it in his shorts.

The sounds that he had heard so much from the room next door was now right in front of him.

The Canadian pulled you towards the couch as he sat down letting you land on top of him "let's get this off of you," he motioned to the strings of your sweatpants as you nodded quickly pulling the gray pants off.

The boy looked at the sight as he released out a groan "look at you in these pretty little panties," he mumbled as he rested his hand on hip as he wanted to move your hoodie that was hiding the fabric.

As his fingers dug in that bone it caused you to grind against his thigh, eliciting another moan from you.

It caught Ethan off guard as he looked up at you "you like that?" He asked as he brushed the loose strands of your hair behind your ear.

You placed your hands on his shoulders "yeah," you moaned as you leaned forward to kiss him again.

His hands didn't let up as he continued to help you reach what you both hoped was your high "god you’re wet,” Ethan’s head fell back as the fabric on his thigh was quickly becoming soaked.

When his head dropped you took the opportunity to kiss his neck making the effort to draw hickeys on the area.

He squeezed your thighs as he moved his hand back to your ass to place another smack on it “been waiting to have you like this.” The hockey player confessed as he watched you smile.

It was a shit eating grin “you must have been so jealous of Mark then pretty boy.” You cooed letting out a sigh as your mouth formed an o shape.

Ethan scoffed at the mention of his housemate “that mouth of yours is going to get you in some hot water,” he warned as he pushed his lips into a thin line.

In the best of times you said some things that you probably weren’t meant to “it’s not like you’re going to do anything about it.” You teased, reminding him of what you had said earlier “all bark. No bite,” you pecked his lips between the two sentences as you bit the inside of your cheek trying your best to suppress a moan when the boy forced your hips into his thigh.

He knew he shouldn’t have reacted because you were simply trying to get under his skin “up,” Ethan placed you next to him on the couch as he began to unbuckle his pants.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you were left speechless “you got condoms princess?” The Canadian asked as he as he knew that he had none in his bag.

The sound of your laughter could be heard as you nodded getting up to grab the box that was in a drawer. Ethan thought that you had kept them because you and Mark had slept together before on this couch. When in fact one of the freshmen asked you to get him some once, not wanting to know what size Rutger was you just told him to grab what he needed from the drawer.

Ethan had kicked his pants off and had now caught the attention of your camera that was sat on the table next to the couch.

He met you in the middle of the room in nothing more than his boxers “let’s get this off of you,” the hockey player muttered as he tugged at the end of your hoodie. You lifted up your arms in an attempt to help his efforts “you knew you were gonna get fucked today didn’t ya?” He groaned seeing that you were in a matching set.

A smirk was evident on your face, “Mark usually fucks me real good after a big win,” that was the honest truth, Mark always landed up back in your dorm after a powerful team performance “lay down pretty boy,” your voice was soft as you sent him a smile.

The Canadian scoffed “what makes you think that you’re in charge?” He asked still listening to you.

He watched as you rolled the condom over his cock “thought brats always get what they want?” You showed him that you weren’t going to let him forget about what he called you.

You smiled as you straddled over his thighs using his cock to tease your clit before you slid onto it “fuck,” you groaned as his hands found their familiar home on your hips “taking me so well,” his breath was hot against the shell of your neck as he helped you fuck yourself on him.

The sound of skin slapping could have been heard from anyone in that hallway but thankfully all of the umich players were far too focused on celebrating the big win.

Ethan was bigger than Mark which was honestly really surprising to you because you always thought that the Canadian screamed small dick energy.

But as he managed to hit spots that Mark could only ever scratch “so good,” your eyes screwed shut as Ethan wrapped his lips around your nipple.

He sucked at your breast letting his hand massage the other one “E,” you moaned as your fingers raked through his hair slightly pulling at it “wanna take a picture of you,” you confessed letting your thoughts be voiced.

You were honestly surprised that you were able to form that coherent sentence as you could feel the coil in your stomach that was getting tighter by the second.

It was weird, usually your camera was only something that you used for the team on the ice or during funny moments. This was fitting under neither category “here I was thinking that I was the one with no bite.” Ethan watched as you reached over to grab the Polaroid camera that was next to your big camera. The boy was able to use this moment to fuck you at a different angle almost causing you to land flat on your face by the surprise movement “it’s my job to be the little shit,” you mumbled sending him a glare.

Ethan let out a laugh “sorry princess,” he apologised and attempted to make it up to your by leaving a trail of kisses from your jaw back down to your breasts.

As his face was nuzzled between the two you took the moment to take that picture letting out a whimper as he looked back up at you “my turn,” the hockey player reached out with one hand to grab the camera and used his other to rub his thumb over your clit.

Your head fell back and it caused him to get the perfect picture. As the piece of film came out he knew that the image of your scrunched up face trailing down to your breasts that were quickly becoming more visibly marked by the second was you to be one that was going to live in his wallet.

For safe keeping’s of course but also for a little bit of material that he could use as he pleased.

He liked how he was pulling moans out of your mouth quicker than he had ever heard Mark do it.

Ethan knew that it was wrong but subconsciously he had made a competition within himself to outcompete the boy that he had heard you with so many times already.

It was like if the Canadian could make you feel better than his Michigan born teammate then maybe you’d cut things out with Mark then.

Maybe even you’d pick Ethan up as a fuck buddy instead.

But he was pulled from his thoughts as you clenched around him practically sucking the life out of his cock as he was brought back to reality “you’re so good to me,” you cooed as the attention to your clit was bringing you ever so closer to your high.

He placed a soft kiss to your collar bone “you wanna be a good girl and come for me?” He asked just increasing the rate of which his thumb rubbed the sensitive nub as you began to bounce your hips against him.

The coil in your stomach was so tight that it almost hurt “fuck me wow!” You yelled as your whole body shook as you even felt the orgasm in your toes.

Thankfully for you the boy was right behind you as you throbbing and clenching around him spurred on his orgasm, causing him to mumble a string of so good as he helped you ride out your high.

You found the energy in yourself to move off of him as your body collapsed on the couch next to him but thankfully on the side that didn’t have the now fully processed photos.

Because we can’t have those getting damaged now can we?

Ethan smiled as he ran his fingers through your hair “we should go that again some other time,” he proposed causing you to let out a giggle as it was the first thing that he had said to you after sex.

You looked at him leaning in to peck his lips as you were still in that fucked out state “my pretty little brat,” the Canadian mumbled as he brushed your hair out of your face.

As you leaned forward to grab your hoodie his phone went off with a string of notifications “someone’s popular,” you teased sending him a smile.

Ethan let out a laugh “I could say the same thing to you,” he had a giant smirk on his face as he flipped his phone around to you.

Mark 🛑 you know where y/n is? saw you with her earlier

Your face turned red as you had totally forgotten about the fact that you and Mark were actually meant to do some work for a class after the game.

So you let out a groan as you tried to get up “I gotta go,” you announced as you pulled your sweatpants over your legs not bothering to find your panties as you figured that you could leave them as a memento for the Canadian.

You were grateful that you had a spare pair of slides in the office as you didn’t feel like putting on your airforces “you can let yourself out right?” You asked as you grabbed the photo of him and your phone.

Speechless all Ethan could do was nod.

He clearly thought that your evening went down worse than his did.

Maybe this wasn’t meant to happen again.

[doeeyeseddie]

18 or 25 for the relationship prompts? 💗💗💗

hi and thank you for the prompt! sorry this took me so very long to write, but i hope you like it anyway 💕

18. brushing through the other's hair while talking/25. feeding each other their food

[read on ao3]

It’s a slow shift. Not from the beginning, they get called out plenty in the morning, but the afternoon is slow already and now it’s 9pm and they haven’t had a call since before dinner. 

All the chores are done, everything is clean and fully stocked and put away. 

Bobby is in his office with some paperwork, but he insisted that he doesn’t need any help before heading downstairs. 

No one was in the mood to play a game or anything, so they’re just sort of lounging around the loft, an action movie playing on TV that no one’s really paying attention to. Hen and Chim are on the armchairs, but they’re turned mostly away from the TV, their focus on each other and Buck, and the conversation the three of them are having.

Beside Buck, Eddie keeps sinking lower in his seat until his head eventually comes to rest on Buck’s shoulder. Buck shoots him a fond look and lifts the hand that’s currently on the backrest of the couch to scratch at Eddie’s scalp gently. 

Eddie makes a soft noise and rubs his cheek against Buck’s shoulder like a cat, which Buck takes as encouragement to keep going.

It’s fine – they agreed to keep this on the low for a bit (not really a secret, but they’re not telling anyone yet either. Well, except for Chris, because that would’ve felt like lying, and Bobby, because they didn’t want to risk anything by keeping secrets from the brass), but so far no one’s even looked at them twice. Buck has had his arm slung over the back of the couch and essentially around Eddie for ages now, and no one’s said a word.

They’ve always been close after all, and for the last three weeks, they’ve slowly been adding more little touches to the list of things they do, like a head on the other’s shoulder, or, like today, Buck’s hand in Eddie’s hair. 

It’s been kind of fun finding out what they can get away with before anyone figures them out. 

He keeps combing his fingers through Eddie’s hair absently while talking to Hen and Chimney, and it’s easy like this. 

With his last relationship, with Tommy, they made it public so quickly kind of accidentally, but it was fine, because there wasn’t that much at stake. Sure, it doubled as his coming out to a lot of people, but Buck’s glad that happened so organically and without him having time to overthink or worry.

With Eddie, the situation is completely different. There’s so much at stake for them, everything, that they felt safer keeping it between themselves for a few weeks, to see how they adjust to this change. The two of them – and Christopher.

But it’s been three weeks now, and things have been great, so it’s okay if they want to be a bit more open with it. And Buck wants.

Ever since he realized how he feels about Eddie, about seven minutes before he kissed him for the first time, he’s been wanting to shout his love for him from the rooftops. It hasn’t been easy keeping that in, and his hands to himself.

So it’s easy, letting himself be a little bit more affectionate with Eddie like this, up here in the loft of their fire station, with their friends.

The low hum Eddie lets out and the relaxed lines of his body pressing against Buck’s tell him that he feels the same way. And if anyone asks – that’s fine, they’re ready to share whenever it happens.

But Hen just keeps telling her story about the latest shenanigans Denny and Mara have gotten up to, pretending to be annoyed by them even though it’s obvious she loves that they’re getting along this well. Chimney chimes in with stories from his and Kevin’s childhood, and Buck occasionally shares something he did as a kid just to shock Hen.

“You’re not hanging out with my kids unsupervised,” she says after he finishes telling them about a prank he and some other boys played on a teacher, and gets up from her chair. “I’m making popcorn. You guys want some, too?”

“Yes, please,” Eddie says sleepily from Buck’s shoulder, raising his hand.

Buck smiles at him, endeared, and squeezes the back of his neck gently. Without looking up, he tells Hen, “I–I’ll take some too, thanks, Hen.”

“You know if it’s there, I’ll eat it,” Chimney says. His chair creaks when he stands up too. “I’ll help you.”

The two of them head to the kitchen, bickering quietly, and Buck takes the opportunity to turn his head, brushing his nose along Eddie’s forehead and pressing a kiss to his brow.

“Tired, sweetheart?”

“A little,” Eddie mumbles, turning further into Buck, his knee pressed to the side of Buck’s thigh. “And you’re comfortable.”

“I’m not complaining,” Buck says, and starts combing his fingers through Eddie’s hair at the back of his head again. “Just say the word and we can go to the bunkroom.”

“No, I want the popcorn now,” Eddie says, blinking his eyes open. “I’m awake.”

Buck laughs and kisses his temple. “If you say so.”

Hen and Chim return with the popcorn not much later, and their conversation has moved on to a movie Buck hasn’t seen, so he’s happy to just sit back, one hand always on Eddie, listen to their familiar voices, and snack on his popcorn.

“Gimme some of that,” Eddie says quietly, jerking his chin towards the popcorn in Buck’s hand.

“The bowl is right there,” Buck says, but he’s already extending his hand.

Eddie gives him a smile that makes butterflies erupt in his stomach and brushes his fingers along Buck’s hand while he grabs some of the popcorn. “Thanks.”

Buck rolls his eyes, but they both know it’s just for show.

The next time he reaches for the bowl, he pops some in his mouth and offers the rest to Eddie, holding it between two fingers.

Instead of taking it from him, Eddie leans forward and eats it straight from Buck’s fingers, lips wrapped around them for just a second that’s enough to make his entire body go hot, especially his face.

Hen and Chimney stop talking.

Eddie looks at Buck like everything is completely normal, then turns to Chimney and Hen to ask, “What?”

“What is up with you two tonight?” Chimney asks, exasperated. “You got something to tell us?”

Eddie shrugs, jostling Buck a little. His eyes practically sparkle, shining with mischief when he turns to Buck, and Buck loves him so much. “I don’t know, Buck, do we? Do you know what he’s talking about?”

“You’ve basically been,” Hen makes an impatient gesture that encompasses both of them on the couch, “fucking cuddling for an hour. And now you’re feeding each other popcorn? You’re always all over each other, but this is…different.”

“Well, I didn’t expect Eddie to eat it like that, either,” Buck says, and blushes even more when Eddie just winks at him.

“Chim, I never want us to be the kind of best friends they are,” Hen says, and Buck makes the mistake of meeting Eddie’s eye, both of them bursting into laughter.

“I sure hope you won’t, since you’re both married,” Eddie wheezes, and Buck descends into laughter again.

“What does that have to–” Chim pauses. “Hold on.”

“Oh, they’re getting there,” Buck says in a stage whisper, reaching out to wipe a tear from the corner of Eddie’s eye.

Eddie catches his hand on the way back and presses a kiss to his palm before tangling their fingers.

Both Hen and Chimney are gaping at them, and Hen calls out weakly, “Cap, are you seeing this?”

“Yep,” Bobby’s amused voice wafts over from the kitchen. Buck didn’t even hear him come back. “But they told me three weeks ago already.”

“What!” Hen yelps, and Chimney shakes his head like a wet dog, looking beyond confused.

“So are you saying– you’re really—” His eyes flick down to their hands, then back up to their faces, moving rapidly from Buck to Eddie and back.

“Together?” Eddie asks. “Yeah.”

“Since when!” Hen demands, and she somehow looks both appalled and delighted. “How did this happen? How did I miss this?”

“I guess you just didn’t know what to look for,” Buck says, turning his head to smile at Eddie. “I can relate to that.”

[1d1195]

Traditional IV

Nothing like being quarantined in June of 2023 to get a little timely writing done. I hope you enjoy this part, I feel like it's moving a little too slowly but I promise I have some pretty good plans and I hope you'll find it's worth the wait.

Accidentally a little close to 6K words, whoops. Read the rest here: Traditional

She simply didn’t believe that Harry liked her like that. There was no way. He simply paid her to be around, and he worried about her the way someone worries about their car...or their expensive electronics. “No way.”

She took a deep breath as the driver stopped in front of Harry’s home. It was her first time here and while she thought Harry had been nothing but a gentleman over the last month, she also knew this was his home and that meant it was his rules. Added to the fact that Niall touched her (albeit in a friendly way), she thought she might not make it out of here.

She opened the car door and started up the pathway to the front door. The only time Harry ever let her open her own door was when he wasn’t around. For the evening she decided on her favorite pair of black jeans. They were stretchy and comfy despite being jeans. They went with everything too. And instead of a zipper there were just three buttons. Per her personality, she didn’t think she looked good in much, but these were all but magic jeans that (objectively) made her butt look good. She paired the good jeans with a plain bright blue T-shirt. Nothing special. Harry said dress comfortably.

She knocked twice on the door swallowing a lump in her throat.

It was as if Harry was waiting by the door because her hand hadn’t even made its way back to her side. She released a breath she was holding as Harry smirked at her. “Hey beautiful,” he hummed sweetly. The idea that a man as gorgeous as Harry Styles looked at her jeans and t-shirt ensemble and still called her beautiful was enough to make her pass out. He didn’t seem the same bit as irritated as he was earlier. Maybe she wouldn’t get an earful after all.

“Hi.”

“Y’nervous?” He asked.

She nodded. “Very.”

“Y’know you’re supposed t’be nervous because m’your boss’s boss not because of this. This was my choice.”

“Both were your choice.”

“I already told you, love, Niall picked you,” she twitched very slightly at Niall’s name. Harry of course noticed. His smirk deepened.  “C’mon,” he tilted his head toward the inside. Sliding past him, she heard the door click shut behind him.

Harry’s house was pretty big for one person. She liked how open it was: the staircase was right in front of the door. It led to a little area that overlooked the main room. Almost like a loft. The main room flowed into a dining room and the kitchen, side by side. All rooms were still very open. She of course didn’t know which rooms were down the hall, but it was honestly the home she dreamed of. She could see through the slider he had a big back yard and a porch swing looking over the yard.

Whenever this thing with her and Harry ended, she would have to kindly ask for the floorplans. This place was perfect. She was in awe he was willing to slum it in her small (but no less beautiful—he did pick it out after all) apartment for the last month.

“Y’okay, love?” He asked, leaning against the kitchen island while she looked around the rooms. It was sparsely decorated. Anne and Gemma were always on him about that. But he was waiting for someone to decorate it for him...someone like her.

“This house is beautiful.”

He chuckled. “Thank you, kitten.”

“I want the floor plans,” no time like the present to ask.

He wanted to say there was no need for her to have them. He wanted to say the house was all hers. It didn’t even feel like home until she stepped inside. She hadn’t even sat down yet, and Harry could hardly breathe, feeling how whole he felt with just her presence gazing out the window. Harry nearly proposed because the idea of her living in a house without him seemed ridiculous. He grinned. “Will do, love...can I get you something t’drink?”

*

They ended up on the porch swing after dinner. She kicked her shoes and held the glass of wine in her hands. Tomorrow was Saturday so she didn’t seem to mind drinking today. Harry made her Ramen, and they ate it at the table before moving outside. “You’re a very good cook,” she told him to which he smiled so brightly at the compliment she thought she might go blind.

With one foot tucked under her and the other one dangled over the edge, her toe was barely touching the ground. Harry, with the longest legs in the world was flat footed on the ground, gently rocking the pair of them. Harry was so close to her she could feel the warmth radiating off of him. “Are y’warm enough, kitten?” He asked. Every time they were together, he worried she would be freezing all so she wouldn’t inconvenience him.

She nodded. “Wine makes me warm,” she smirked.

He chuckled. “Good.” They sat silently for a bit. Listening to the sounds of the outdoors. Harry scrolled on his phone for a moment, something he hated to do while he was with her, but he couldn’t help it much when he was constantly getting notifications about his business. “Sorry, love,” he said softly as he checked on one important notification.

“It’s really okay,” she promised sipping her wine. “I feel bad I’m here interrupting your evening to begin with.”

He frowned and put his phone back in his pocket. “Kitten, you’re so confident at work...and y’should be of course...how come you’re so hard on yourself outside of work?”

She shrugged. “I know I’m good at working, I’m not very good at the whole relationship thing...obviously. Even more so the whole companionship thing either.”

His frown deepened and he watched as she sipped from her glass. She cradled it in both hands nervously rubbing her thumbs along the sides. “I don’t know what y’mean by ‘obviously.’”

“Well, I was previously in a relationship for three years but the reason it ended is because I caught him fucking another woman in our bed,” she said bluntly. Harry’s eyebrows perked up. He hadn’t heard her swear once since he’d known her. “I would assume that was because I wasn’t good enough...so now I’m not sure I know how to be a girlfriend...I feel like I certainly don’t know how to be a companion.”

Harry put his hand to his mouth, trying to think of all the words he wanted to say next. “Love, your ex is a proper idiot,” he said. “His...unfaithfulness has nothing t’do with you. He is so wrong for losing you,” Harry let the words sit between them for a few moments. She was quiet. Harry waited for her to say something or to let the emotions filter through her brain. In a matter of a month, she had a boyfriend, didn’t have a boyfriend, started an internship, a companionship, and moved into a new apartment. There couldn’t have been much time for her to process everything.

Harry didn’t care if they sat there the rest of the night. She needed to know that, and she needed to know she was perfect. Her ex was a complete moron for losing her. Harry wasn’t even dating her, and he was ready to kiss the ground she walked on just to exist. Eventually, she bit her lip and quietly whispered to him. “Thank you.”

He didn’t need a thank you. So he continued his assurance that she was all but angelic. “As for this,” he gestured between the two of them. “I know ’ve only known you a month...and I know you’re new at this, but you’re lovely. I really believe that. There aren’t really rights or wrongs when it comes t’this,” he promised.

“I haven’t even slept with you yet...let alone kiss you,” she muttered. “I’m the worst at this.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Have you done this before?”

There was a beat of silence. Harry didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable but he would rather die than lie to her. “A couple times,” he admitted. “Not in a few years.”

She nodded. “How come...you don’t make me sleep with you?”

He snorted at the implication. “Kitten.”

“Well,” she rolled her eyes. “I mean...you could...not pay me. This could be over.”

He could just tell her right now that he was in love with her. More than the first day he met her. Harry didn’t believe in love at first sight. He had dated a good amount before her. No one ever took his breath away like she did, so he was certain it had to be love. Harry never got jealous before today...especially because of his best friend. “Do y’want it t’be over?” He decided to ask instead.

She shook her head. “I don’t know how to say this without putting my foot in my mouth so I’m just going to say it and know I’m not trying to offend you,” she paused and looked at him for a moment. He nodded his head. “Despite our arrangement, I’m really glad I met you. I like hanging out with you. And I think you’re right...I wouldn’t have found someone as nice as you if you didn’t come along.”

He smirked. “And outbid them?” He winked.

“That’s not why I picked you,” she rolled her eyes. “I told you what I wanted.” They sat quietly side by side, rocking gently for another moment. In all her efforts to avoid the topic of Niall, she felt she had no choice but to ask herself. “Did you tell Niall about us?” She asked.

He shook his head. “I want to, though.”

She frowned. “Any way I could convince you otherwise?” She asked tentatively. She tapped out a rhythm on her glass with her fingertips.

He chuckled and shook his head. “He’s very discreet. And he already knows you,” Harry reminded her. “Wouldn’t it be nice not t’hide it with someone at work?”

“Isn’t he going to look at me like I’m...”

“He’s not going t’look at y’like anything but you, love.”

She sighed. “It’s your show,” she shrugged.

“I won’t tell him if y’don’t want me to,” he answered with a shrug of his own.

She turned to him, her foot that was previously tucked under her, fell back toward the ground. “You won’t?”

He sipped his own glass of wine. “If s’gonna make you uncomfortable, of course not.”

She sucked her lip into her mouth. “I’ve never met any guy like you before, Harry.”

He smiled. “Is that a good thing?”

“I think it might be my favorite thing.”

The idea that any part of Harry’s personality was her favorite anything had him nearly bubbling with excitement. He wanted to kiss her for the rest of the night and maybe all day tomorrow too. “You can tell Niall...he is your best friend.”

He could feel his face smiling so much he looked at the glass in his hands. He would tell Niall tomorrow when they golfed bright and early. “Do y’like Niall?” He asked quietly.

“I do,” she said and Harry thought he might die. His heart seemed to stop beating all together. “He’s my boss. He’s a great teacher and—”

Harry shook his head and swallowed a bit nervously. He didn’t want her to like him. “No...love...I mean...” he trailed off.

She tilted her head at him in confusion and then at once her eyebrows shifted up in surprise. “Harry,” she said softly.

“Look,” he started. “I...I don’t think you’re like this, but ’ve had girlfriends and companions only like me for m’money and they don’t...” he shook his head. “If y’like Niall I just want t’know.”

She frowned, thought for a moment and then leaned toward Harry and quickly pecked him on the cheek. Like an absolute child he thought about never washing his cheek again. She rested her head against his arm and Harry tried to stay perfectly still so as not to move out of this perfect position. Eventually, she shook her head. “If...if you stopped paying me, I’d still want t’be friends. I don’t like Niall like that, I promise.”

His heart soared. “You would?” He asked.

“Do you have any friends besides Niall? Or are all your friends paid for?” She giggled cutely.

He chuckled at her joke. “I have other friends.”

“I’d...like to meet them sometime, if that’s possible.”

Harry didn’t know how to tell her she would meet them at their wedding, so he just said, “sure thing, kitten.”

*

Harry didn’t really know how to broach the topic to Niall, so he just went for it. Right as he took one of his first swings. “Are you kidding me, Harry!?” He shouted. “You messed up my shot!” Smirking, Harry leaned a bit on his club waiting for Niall to process the words he said. “How much do you pay her?”

“None of your business.”

“I would have been your companion if I knew you’d pay me more.”

“You’re not my type,” he said unaffected by Niall’s quip. “You still make more than her,” he shrugged. Harry knew it wasn’t about that though. “She didn’t even want that much. She just wanted enough t’pay for her apartment.”

“This is proof you don’t pay attention to me when I send the intern information to you,” Niall noted.

“I trust you,” he rolled his eyes lining up his tee to take his shot. “You had no idea?”

Niall shook his head. He waited quietly and patiently for Harry to swing. “I thought you just liked her.”

“Well, I do,” he admitted. “A lot.”

Niall rolled his eyes. “You sure know how to make everything the most complicated thing in the world.”

“We all have our talents, Niall,” he deadpanned. Snorting Niall shook his head putting his club back into the bag and getting into the golf cart. “She’s nervous you’ll treat her different.”

“If I didn’t know for the last month, I would say it doesn’t affect her work ethic or anything. I wouldn’t treat her differently if you told me before.”

Harry nodded. “Good.” They were quiet as they got to their next shots and finished the hole. Gathering their belongings, Harry drove them to the next one. “I really like her,” he told him.

Niall could tell that Harry really liked her. He never got too attached to girls or wispy about them. He certainly didn’t concoct a day of golf for Niall to talk about them. As Harry’s best friend he was very grateful he had found someone he liked so much. Even if it was naturally complicated. Niall smirked. “Good for you,” he said almost if he was congratulating Harry. “You deserve a nice, sweet, girl,” he told him. “I will take full credit at the wedding that you wouldn’t have met her if I didn’t pick her to be my intern.”

Harry rolled his eyes and chuckled at his friend as they got ready for the next hole.

But there was no way Harry could deny how dreamy it felt to think about marrying the pretty girl.

*

During her Starbucks runs she always forwarded the office phone to her cellphone. Carrying the tray containing Niall and Harry’s drinks, she had her shoulder pressed to hold the phone in place next to her ear. Additionally, she picked up a bunch of documents for Niall at the print shop and since then it had been nonstop phone calls. So, her hands were full. She thanked the man on the elevator for pressing the button for her and hurried off to settle the items down.

She turned the corner to her office, and it took her several moments after the fact to realize what happened. She heard someone screaming and it was a full minute before she noticed it was herself that screamed. “Holy shit,” she didn’t know the guy that bumped into her. In a daze she thought that maybe she had never seen him before this very moment. But her skin was burning, the empty coffee cups were on the floor and the documents were everywhere.

All she could manage to think about was how glad she was she wore pants and a chunky sweater today.

She was gasping like the air wasn’t coming fast enough and was still unsure why. “Darling?” Niall was suddenly there shoving him out of the way, he put his hands on her shoulders and tried to gather the attention of her eyes. She had to be in shock. All she knew was that she was in so much pain. “Hey, you’re okay. It’s okay,” he promised calmly. He was assessing the situation, looking her up and down seeing if he could figure out how to help so she didn’t get sent into a full-blown panic. It seemed she already was and of course Niall didn’t blame her. Her skin was probably burning. She was covered in hot liquid. Her clothes soaked and probably burning her skin. It didn’t get her face, just her shirt seemed to take the brunt of it and she was so glad she opted for a thicker sweater this chilly fall morning. It very well could have been the difference between a first and second degree burn that was still stinging her skin. Niall gently tugged her through the puddle of liquid at their feet ruining her cute shoes. Niall didn’t even pay any mind to his polished dress shoes getting splashed with coffee. His only concern seemed to be her. “Come on, let’s get you—”

“What happened?”

She had never heard Harry sound like that before in the two and a half months she was interning. The din of background noise stopped at the sound of his voice. Everyone was silent. Obviously, he never sounded like that outside of work either. She was certain it reset her shocked brain. Inhaling deeply, she ignored the sting of her shirt sticking to her burned skin. Definitely first or second degree. “M’okay,” she managed but she was trying so hard not to cry in pain in front of literally everyone that came out of their offices to hear her scream and then Harry’s angry tone. He shoved Niall roughly out of the way and she swore she saw Niall smirk at his friend. It almost made her smile, but she was in too much pain to focus on it now. She knew that Niall knew, but true to Harry’s words, Niall made no implication that it changed her relationship with him. Niall pretended like he didn’t know. Or if he wanted to mention it, he didn’t seem to care. Harry grabbed her by the wrist after ensuring it was okay to touch her by a quick scan of noting it was probably the only part of her that wasn’t in pain.

Harry wanted to kill himself for ordering a hot beverage.

“I’m so sorry,” the man that bumped into her whispered.

“You can shut up,” Harry snapped. She couldn’t say anything because she was still in pain and still trying to process anything that happened. “You, pack your stuff,” he snarled directly to the man that she still didn’t even know his name. He blanched at the notion. She gaped.

“That’s not—”

“Let’s go,” he snapped not letting her finish. He marched her away from the puddle of hot liquid and down to his office.

Niall followed behind, grabbing her phone off the floor before it was submerged in tea and coffee. “Don’t pack yet,” she heard him mutter to the poor guy.

“Mr. Styles,” she whispered just in case anyone was listening. She didn’t like to call him Harry in front of anyone except Niall. She knew others weren’t given the privilege and she didn’t want to be treated differently. “Please slow down,” she begged. While her upper body definitely was in worse shape than her legs that were mostly protected by her pants, the stinging pain of her burns amplified as her clothing brushed painfully against her skin. “It hurts,” she croaked. Harry’s hand loosened his grip on her wrist and he slowed his pace breathing out in nearly heavy pants. “M’okay,” she promised.

Harry wanted to scoop her in his arms and carry her the rest of the way. The last ten meters seemed endless as he watched her walk carefully to his office. She was trying not to cry, and it made Harry want to set himself on fire just to see her in pain.

Niall followed behind a few moments later just as she got to the door and Harry slammed the door shut to his office. “You can’t fire him, Harry,” Niall rolled his eyes.

“Look at her,” he snapped. “What do y’need, angel?” He cooed, he cupped her face and she felt so embarrassed that Niall was right there to see it all. This would surely make him treat her differently. Somehow, despite all the burns, Harry calling her angel and touching her face was enough to turn her cheeks warm against Harry’s cool hands. She wanted him to touch all over her aching skin. The duality of his tone between Niall and her was so shocking she forgot how to speak. “Should I take her to the hospital?” He asked Niall.

She shook her head quickly. “M’fine,” she promised bravely the tears still stinging the back of her eyes as much as her skin.

Niall was looking at his phone. “You’re supposed to rinse in barely warm water, darling. Should be cold, really.”

Harry turned away from her for the first time and hurried to the closet of his office that she never really paid any mind to. But as she watched Harry the closet was actually a bathroom and if she wasn’t in so much pain, she probably would have made a joke about it. He started grabbing a towel and all kinds of spa things. “I don’t have any clothes,” she said softly to Niall. Her cheeks felt like they were reddening by the second. This was so embarrassing. “Can I have my phone?” She sniffled. He held it out to her tentatively, having wiped it off on his leg of any last coffee. She would have to get his clothes dry cleaned. She tapped on Eleanor’s number.

“Hey love, how’s your day?” Louis answered the phone. It wasn’t uncommon. They often had their lunch breaks together since they worked a mere block away from one another.

“Louis, I need Eleanor to bring me some clothes,” she mumbled looking at Harry making sure everything was in place from the open door.

“Ooh, finally let Harry fuck your brains out. How naughty you did it at work.”

She sniffled. “No...” she shook her head hating that she couldn’t laugh at his joke.

“Oh, hey, babe. What happened? Are you alright?” He asked.

Eleanor must have taken the phone from him. “What’s wrong?” She asked.

“S’nothing. I just need you to bring me clothes,” she sniffled, and the tears finally escaped. “Please.”

“Yeah, of course. Of course, love. What do you want?”

She didn’t want to wear anything, but she had to be professional. She wished she was by herself, and Niall and Harry weren’t in earshot. “I...I think I burned my whole body,” she whimpered. “El, it hurts,” she sniffled. “I...loose pants, a loose blouse,” she told her.

“Darling, you can wear something comfortable,” Niall said. “Don’t worry about the outfit,” he promised.

“Oh, love,” she cooed. “I got it, I got it. I’ll be right there, fifteen minutes. Just have someone send me the information I need,” she said.

“We’re on our way, love,” Louis promised taking the phone back for a moment before they hung up. She opened her phone to her message thread with Louis and Eleanor and handed it to Niall. “Can you just tell them how to get up here?” She asked.

“Yeah, of course,” he nodded. She told him what her passcode was in case the screen locked on him. Niall took a seat on the couch on the opposite side of Harry’s office.

“C’mere,” Harry said and gestured to the bathroom.

This had to be the most embarrassing day of her life. She slowly made her way toward the bathroom feeling like the stinging was now a permanent fixture on her body and after all the shock was officially out of her body it hurt more than it did five minutes ago. She was dreading the look at her skin. “Harry, you can’t fire him,” she said.

“It’s my company,” she could tell it was taking a lot of restraint from snapping at her.

“Please,” she begged. He didn’t respond but he saw the way his shoulders deflated just a hair.

“Louis and Eleanor are bringing you clothes?” He asked.

She nodded. “They’ll be here in ten minutes.” Harry closed the bathroom door. “Harry...” she said softly, nervously. He turned the water on in the shower and let it run.

“That should run for at least five minutes,” he told her.

Which just meant there would just be five minutes until Eleanor was here to help her. She leaned back against the counter, eyes closed, trying not to think about how much pain she was in. She supposed it was better than when it initially happened, but she kind of wished the shock was still there to keep her from noticing.

“Y’can probably get in now,” he told her.

Her face burned in embarrassment. “Harry,” she tried again.

“I won’t look. M’not leaving this room if you’re by yourself. If y’pass out, m’not letting you lay in the shower. Just until Eleanor gets here,” he promised. He turned around and faced the door. He stood there silently. Her chest ached almost as much as her skin. It drove her nuts that everyone on the entire floor knew she was in here with Harry and Niall. She was sure the rumors would be awful in a matter of moments. Harry still hadn’t seen her naked and she didn’t want at work to be the first place for it to happen.

“Kitten, please try,” he whispered quietly. “M’really upset you’re hurt,” he told her. He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling and she could hear how upset he sounded. It was like he was in pain from the burn almost as much as she was.

Assuming Harry wasn’t backing down she decided it was now or never. She sniffled and tried to reach for her shoes but immediately regretted it. She inhaled sharply and stood straight up. “Can you help me with my shoes? I can’t bend,” she whispered. He turned around immediately and knelt to the floor. He carefully picked her foot up, almost cradling her ankle. His fingers skimmed along her ankle strap and unbuckled it. She couldn’t believe how intimate it felt just for Harry to be holding her foot. Carefully he pulled her shoe off and then started on the other. Almost losing her balance she grabbed the counter.

Harry was wildly aware of what this looked like.

Which is why when Eleanor pushed the door open, gasped, then pulled it shut almost as quickly, Harry froze with his hand grasping her ankle. “Whoops, sorry,” she muttered outside the door. “Good for him,” she heard Louis say almost proudly.

She put a hand over her face to hide her embarrassment. She honestly thought Niall was probably thinking of ways to fire her solely for her friends being idiots. Harry smirked despite everything, and she was actually grateful for Louis’ joke at her expense because she hated the idea that Harry was upset because of her. “Suppose that’s m’cue,” he murmured.

“Great,” she sighed.

He stood up and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “M’glad you’re okay, kitten,” he whispered in her ear. “And I’d be so lucky,” he said causing her skin to warm more than the burn.

*

Eleanor chatted with her throughout the shower and was there to help her with her clothes. She was glad she didn’t have to say it in front of Niall and Harry, but Eleanor knew to bring one of her looser bralettes without an offensive band that could hide under her shirt. She was also grateful that she clearly heard Niall about the comfortable clothing because she wouldn’t be caught dead in this office with a pair of leggings for fear of unprofessionalism. “Sorry to interrupt,” she winked at her.

She glanced at the doors hoping no one out there heard Eleanor. She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t do that at work.”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” El shrugged. “He’s really cute.”

“He can hear you,” she shook her head whispering nervously.

“No, Louis texted they both left to give you privacy. It’s just Louis out there.”

“Who are we to judge what kind of physical medicine you need in a time of crisis?” He asked through the closed door.

“Are you alright?” Eleanor asked. She nodded. The shower helped significantly even if it was freezing cold. “I brought some petroleum jelly,” she said. “Do you want help, or do you want me to do it?” She asked.

“I can do it,” she said and glanced in the mirror at her body for the first time.

“I think your sweater saved you,” Eleanor said.

She nodded. “That and my iced coffee,” she remarked. Her skin was red, one or two spots where the initial impact must have hit would blister, right below her bra-line but she was extremely lucky. The burns did extend to her thighs but other than that she was okay. The stinging was now just a dull ache. She slathered the ointment all over her skin. Everywhere it hurt. She nearly sighed with relief.

It took another five minutes for Eleanor to help her with her clothing and make sure she looked okay. She put on more makeup so she could feel whole again. She was already dreading leaving this office with wet hair. Eleanor opened the door to see Louis sitting on the ground with his back against the wall beside the door to the bathroom.

“You alright, babe?” He asked, standing to join the little party. Louis sat on the closed toilet lid.

She nodded. “Much better. Thank you.”

“Harry left this,” he said holding out a first aid kit. Eleanor placed it on the counter to deal with after the makeup.

“You should ask to go home,” Eleanor said as she reapplied her mascara. “We’ll drive you home before we go back to work.”

She shook her head. “I have to do a few more things...I have to replace those files....and I never got my coffee,” she opened the first aid kit to pull out gauze and she slathered it with more petroleum jelly.

Louis chuckled. “You’re definitely okay.”

“Harry was going to fire the guy that bumped into me,” she said. “Can you cover this?” She asked, passing her bandage to Eleanor and lifting her shirt to her chest. Louis looked at his phone while the girls did their thing.

“Well, he is quite taken with you. I’m surprised he didn’t strangle him on the spot,” Eleanor smirked as she bandaged the most sensitive burns carefully. It was cold in the office, and she was irritated because she couldn’t cover her arms or body with any extra layers. “You’re lucky it missed your hands,” Eleanor said.

She nodded as Eleanor soothingly wiped more jelly along the inside of her forearms where the hot liquid did get her. “What do you mean quite taken?” She asked.

“Oh, shut up,” Louis rolled his eyes. “Even I noticed.”

“He’s smitten, love,” Eleanor giggled. “He can’t take his eyes off you, ever. The whole time we built the furniture when I came in the bathroom to help.”

“He was practically staring at the door like a puppy while you were in here,” Louis explained.

She felt the ever-present warmth in her cheeks whenever Harry’s affection toward her came up. She simply didn’t believe that Harry liked her like that. There was no way. He simply paid her to be around, and he worried about her the way someone worries about their car...or their expensive electronics. “No way.”

There was a knock on his office door, and she felt awkward that someone was probably coming in looking for Harry and they were about to find a circus in the bathroom.

“Come in!” Louis shouted.

“Jesus Christ,” she grumbled. Eleanor laughed as she finished the final coat of jelly and rinsed her hands off in the sink.

Fortunately, it was just Harry. Harry, knocking on his own office door. She was going to lose her mind from how ridiculous this all was. “Er...hi,” he said awkwardly.

“Hi.”

“You feel a little better?”

“I think so,” she nodded.

Niall came in behind holding an iced coffee in his hands. “Louis said y’might still want one,” he smirked.

She turned to glare at Louis who smiled excitedly. Like this was the most exciting game he had ever played. “Thank you,” she said gratefully.

“Niall, Harry,” Eleanor began. Oh no. “Would you mind if we drove her home? She wants to stay to replace the files or something, but I think—”

“Absolutely not, please take her,” Niall said quickly shaking his head. He didn’t even need to hear the end of it.

Harry frowned. “Y’didn’t seriously think we were going t’make y’stay love, did you?” He wondered.

“Well, it’s not that bad now...I could—”

“Oh my God,” Louis rolled his eyes. “You’ll see them both Monday and your work will still be here. You can spare the ninety quid you’d make.”

“You’re only paying her eighteen an hour?” Harry asked, looking at Niall suddenly very aware of how little he was paying her.

“You’re the one that sets the pay, Harold,” Niall shook his head.

“I changed my mind,” she said to Eleanor. “Get me out of here,” she begged.

“Er...” Harry started appearing a bit flustered. She doesn’t know why. Everyone in this room knew he was paying her outside these walls to be in his life. “Do y’think you can drop her off at m’place? I want t’make sure she’s okay...and...I don’t want her t’cook dinner herself or anything.”

If Eleanor and Louis hadn’t said Harry was so taken with her just a few moments ago, she wouldn’t have thought anything of his question. She wouldn’t have looked at him when he asked. Again, it was merely the idea of someone taking care of a house pet. Or a boat. He wanted to look after what he paid for.

If they hadn't said anything, she wouldn’t have seen the way his cheeks turned the slightest bit pink when he asked if they could drive her to his place.

“Harry, we’d love to,” Louis responded with a full-blown, impish smile.

--

taglist: @tpwkstiles @matildasatellite @jessitpwk @jerseygirlinca @stylesfever @soachibstel1 @tiredinwinter

sorry if I missed anyone that wanted to be tagged. Just lmk!

[cranberryjuice-posts]

DARINGGGG GUESS WHO JUST ESCAPED THE ASYLUMMMM

IM BACK W ANOTHER REQUEST POOKIE (YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO IT JS TAKE UR TIME)

OK SO CLARISSE X PERSEPHONE!DAUGHTER (THIS IS ANGST ANGST ANGST) WHERE THEY'RE IN THE BATTLE OF MANHATTAN AND READER IS STABBED SO OBS CLARISSE RUSHED OVER TO LIKE TRY AND SAVE THEM. BUT READER ALR KNOWS THEYRE DYRING SO THEY'RE IKE "its ok it's ok. I'm ginna go see my mother, i'll be fine!

BAWLING

(clarisse is taking over my mid)

HAVE A GREAT DAY AND TAKE CARE OF YOUTSELF POOKIE

- I’ll be back -

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Fem! Persephone! Reader

An - just a heads up as I said in my Korra fic this will probably be my last clarisse fic For a while. The hyperfixation and excitement to write for her is slowly going away, I will be writing most all of the request that I do have for her eventually but other than that I will be taking a short break I hope you all understand!

The sky had a thick layer of grey over it. The destruction to manhattan causing cement and other forms of pollution to take over the air.

Swinging your weapon aimlessly you tried to fight off the growing hoard of monsters. It was hard, fighting for gods know how many hours, seeing people you loved and care for die in-front of you and slowly loosing your siblings.

What hurt the most was seeing kids you grew up and laughed with fighting against you. Fighting for a cause that would benefit no one, fighting for what seemed like a dream that was never going to be real.

Trudging into a hidden alley way you lifted up your shirt. Looking down you saw the poisoned arrow shot wound becoming purple; throbbing harder and harder by the second.

Muffling your scream you pulled the dirty bandages off your body, tossing them into a dumpster. Rummaging through the bag at your side you quickly tried to change the dressings.

In the middle of war a second of peace was rare, a moment to asses your injuries was non existent, a chance to mentally reflect on your surroundings ended in death.

Death that forever followed you.

Standing stiff you were almost to scared to look down. If you gas lighted yourself enough you couldn’t feel it, it wouldn’t be true. It was foolish to think that you could of hidden from war.

“Checkmate” a raspy voice behind you whispered. Tyla.. s a daughter of Tyche and a friend who you had always competed with. Simple childish competion that eventually ended in celestial bronze piercing through your gut.

You’ve never been the best fighter but receiving deadly wounds twice in one day was setting the bar low. Pulling her sword out you fell to your knees, a metallic sound swinging in the air and hitting you in the back of your throat.

Tylas rough combat boot pressed your face into the gravel, tears quickly falling out of your face. “See You in hell” sliding the rubber bottom off your cheek she spat on you. Walking away with the intent to kill another.

Laying in the dirty alley way your thoughts went from the pain slowly leaving your body to memories of her. Of clarisse.

Sitting on the doc together where you shared your first kiss at sun down.

The first argument which ended with you both apologizing and laying together.

Sneaking into the ares cabin just to get caught the following day because you accidentally grew dead roses outside her window.

The awkward confession and her asking you on a date.

… the promise you made to clarisse that you would come back alive.

You woke up laying on a mat, a few medics crowded around you and the crying face of the woman you loved above. You couldn’t help but smile, even in her worst clarisse still looked beautiful.

Will reached over and grabbed her arm squeezing it. “She doesn’t have long” he mumbled closing his eyes. “Be quick” he softly spoke, standing up and walking to another kid.

You tried to move but she quickly took your body into her arms. “Hey, hey don’t.. just rest” clarisse tried to stay strong but right now she couldn’t help but loose it all. “You gonna be fine” her voice broke.

Tears began falling from her eyes and hitting your face. Her weak expression destroyed your heart.

Grabbing her shirt as it was the closest you could Get to touching her. “I’m ok… everything’s ok” you whispered. Clafisse just shook her head, the color was quickly leaving your face. “I just have to visit my mom for a little while, it’ll just be for a few weeks ok”

Clarisse brought your body to hers, hiding her face in your neck. Your arms went lip and around you both dead flowers and weeds appeared. As a daughter of Persephone death followed you every where, even in your final moments.

It felt as though the world stopped. That the outside wasn’t real and this all was a bad dream but even the strongest warriors had to accept when the sun came up.

[scekrex]

You know who it is, it's ya boy! 🕺

So. Obviously a crack fic, if anyone is wondering - no, I don't smoke pot, I'm just very stupid with dumb, but creative ideas, about Adam, Lute and the reader having a mission given to them from Sera, we're they have to got to the Earth in their human disguises (Of course Adam is just Adam without the mask and brown eyes, because Alex Brightman, fuck yeah) to do some business with some of the governments. What they didn't think of is the fact that when they got their human disguises, they also came with human traits, like being able to get absolutely hammered. Like for angels it would take a lot of alcohol (I'm looking at you Castiel when you drank a whole ass liquor store) to get drunk, but humans have a weaker immune system when it comes to percentages. So Adam the drunkest of them all getting the amazing idea of stealing a shopping cart, a little less drunk reader agreeing and them running off before Lute could stop them, Adam in the cart, reader pushing. In the end they accidentally drove off the sidewalk and launched themselves into the damn brook. Lute panicked before they emerged, laughing their asses off, Adam just started to glide his hands over his clothes as if he wanted to hand wash them. Here cue the meme:

-I'M WASHING ME AND MY CLOTHES

-He's drunk as fuck

-Biiitch, I'm washing me and my clothes 😌

With the "I'm washing me and my clothes" being Adam, "He's drunk as fuck" being Lute and the reader just floating in the water next to Adam wondering what the hell he was doing before catching the vibe and doing the same. Now imagine Sera just wanting to check on them and their progress through that orb in Heaven like during "You didn't know" 😂 Miss girl would face plam so hard her big ass lashes would fly off her face 😂😂😂

Bro. Bro I adore you and I adore your fucking crack prompts, they're my new favorite thing to write. So here ya go babes

Drunk 'n' Nasty

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, use of alcohol, yet another crack fic

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Lute grabbed your wrist and pulled you away from the bar entrance, Adam had already been grabbed by his shirt to keep him from entering the building. “No, Sera explicitly said that we need to get this over with as fast as possible,” the lieutenant spoke in a firm voice as she dragged both you and your husband away from the pub, “So we will finish the job and then straight up head back to heaven.”

You pounded at her, “You’re no fun, c’mon Lute just let us have one drink, in and out in no time.” But the exorcist shook her head and stood her ground, “No. One drink will lead to two and two drinks will lead to you and Adam getting completely wasted.” Adam wiggled out of her grip and slapped the hand she had wrapped around your wrist. Yes, Sera had given you orders, but where was the fun in having human disguises if you weren't able to enjoy the night on earth?

“Oh fucking quit it, danger tits, we all know it will end like that either way,” Adam groaned and rolled his eyes, “Loosen up, bitch.” Lute side eyed the first man critically but eventually gave in with a sigh. She wordlessly stepped aside so the two of you were able to enter the crowded bar and Adam dragged you inside before Lute was able to change her mind again. “Let’s fucking go,” the brunette cheered and sat down at the counter. He patted his thigh as his now brown eyes caught yours, “C’mere babes.” That he didn't need to tell you twice, you closed the small gab that was left between the two of you and sat down on his thigh as the first man ordered two shots of whiskey for the both of you, he knew Lute wouldn't drink, she appeared to be quite tense ever since the three of you had arrived on earth.

Once the drinks were put down in front of you, you immediately reached for the tiny shot glass and downed it in one go by tilting your head back, Adam's eyes were locked on your throat as he was able to see how you swallowed the liquid, a nasty grin appeared on his lips as he leaned in a little closer to you, “Fuck, how often will I get that view tonight?” “Depends,” you grinned back at him, the pleasant yet unusual burn of alcohol made you shiver slightly, “How often do ya wanna see it, pretty boy?” Adam leaned in even closer until his lips brushed softly against your ear and his hot breath hit your face, “I don't think I will ever get enough of it.” And with that he downed his own shot just to slam the empty glass on the counter and ask the bartender for another round.

“Sir,” Lute had managed to get through the crowd somehow and was now standing behind you, “That was your one shot, we'll leave now.” Adam looked at you, it was so weird to see the first man with dark brown eyes instead of bright golden ones, but it was something you could get used to, they seemed honest, not that his golden eyes were serving you lies but the brown orbs just felt different, more personal. “Lute, do us a fucking favor and find some dude who will pull that massive fucking stick outta your ass so we can enjoy ourselves for a little while,” your husband shared his opinion on Lute's behavior towards the both of you, then he turned around again to focus on the drinks on the counter. The first man raised his glass, you did the same and in union you purred, “To us.” Another shot was swallowed and you slowly felt your cheeks heating up because of the alcohol. Oh how you had missed the burning liquor.

“I will regret this,” Lute grumbled as the exorcist sat down on the stool next to you. Your eyes beamed at her and you were quick to order three cocktails, visibly happy that she had decided to join you. “Just because I'm sitting down doesn't mean I will drink with you, it's enough of a burden that you two are,” she hissed and eyed the neon pink drink suspiciously as it was placed in front of her. “Don’t be such a princess, it's just one drink,” Adam commented and pushed the pretty looking drink a little closer to Lute. She however, simply passed it to some chick that was passing by. And that was the moment you chose to ignore the woman for the rest of the evening. If she was fine with staying sober and doing as stupid fucking Sera said, so be it, you and Adam however had other plans.

It didn't really take long for the alcohol to actually punch you two in the face though, heaven offered no such things as alcohol, weed, crack or nicotine so the tolerance bar for Adam and you was basically on the floor. And that was probably part of the reason why the two of you had one hell of a blast running away from Lute.

And then Adam spotted the supermarket that wasn't too far away from the pub so he made quick work of picking you up bridal style and then he was on his way to investigate whatever it was that was going on there. “What now, big guy, are we taking off together? Away from stick-in-the-ass-Lute and go-fuck-yourself-Sera?” you chuckled as the brunette continued to carry you over to the empty parking lot. “Damn fucking right, babes,” Adam agreed. The taller man let you down once your destination was reached and he immediately saw something new he wanted to investigate.

The fucking shopping carts.

So you tagged along, mainly to make sure Adam wouldn't hurt himself but also because you were curious too. You weren't quite sure how, but somehow Adam had managed to disconnect the metal chain from the cart, the first man was pulling it away from the others and as soon as it stopped moving, he climbed in it to sit down, “What are you waiting for, bitch, fucking push me!” Adam pointed to the street.

Lute had just managed to catch up to you two drunken asses as you rushed past her. You pushed the shopping cart as fast as physically possible, “Fuck yeah,” Adam yelled and threw his fists in the air, that man was having the time of his life - or well, existence. Either way it was fun, you two were having fun.

Lute on the other hand regretted every single decision that had led her to his exact moment, if she could she would punch her past self for even agreeing to coming with you. Fuck what had she been thinking, that you two would take this serious for once? Yeah, dead fucking wrong.

It was all fun and games until you stumbled over your own feet, lost control of the cart and pushed it right into the brook that was besides the sidewalk you had been running on. Your alcohol clouded brain didn't even think of letting go and therefore you fell with Adam. Instead of being bummed about it, you thought of this as an upgrade though, because now you were floating on water.

“Adam look,” you called for your husband, “I’m floating.” Adam turned around in order to see what you were doing and chuckled at the sight. “‘m washin’ me ‘n’ my clothes,” the brunette explained what he was doing as he slid his hands all across his body, crumbling up his very wet clothes.

Lute had finally managed to fully catch up to you and just watched you with annoyance. “He’s drunk as fuck,” she grumbled, clearly talking to you but you simply shook your head violently, you somehow managed to get over to where Adam was washing himself and his clothes and helped him by sliding your hands all over his body too, “Bitch, we're washing him and his clothes.”

The brunette turned around to face you and poked your chest, “If you handsome bitch keep touching me like that I might just fuck you right here, right now,” the words he spoke were a little hard to understand die to the alcohol he had been drinking earlier. But hard to understand didn't mean impossible to understand, because as soon as your brain had processed the words your husband had spoken you pressed your entire body against his, your wet clothes clinging onto each other.

“Oh Lord have mercy,” Lute prayed as she covered her ears and turned around so that she wouldn't have to watch.

“Yeah? What's stopping you, big guy?” you were up for the challenge, if he wanted to fuck you right there, then he should get to do that. At least that's how you saw it.

Sera had a gut feeling that told her to check on the group and so she did. But what she saw was something she surely hadn't expected. Lute was standing on the sidewalk, the woman was still covering her ears and had squeezed her eyes shut in order to tune out what was happening behind her back.

Because Adam and you were standing in a brook, both fully naked. Sera immediately regretted what she had just done, she wanted to unsee what her eyes had been able to see. She stopped the transmission in an instant. That had simply been too much for her nerves, she had also made the decision to never address what was currently going down on earth.

Spoiler: Adam was going down on you.

[honeybadger16]

How f1 drivers would cuddle with you

Pairings: C.L., C.S., M.V., C.P., L.H., G.R., P.G., L.N., D.R., and M.S. x reader

Warnings: fluff??

a/u: I didn't write all for all the drivers on the grid, just the ones I had inspiration to write for, if I didn't write for a driver you wanted to read about please message me and I'll write for them too :))) I hope you enjoy!

Charles Leclerc

Charles would want to cuddle 24/7 with you if he could. He'd prefer to be the big spoon so he can wrap his hands around you and pull you closer to him. He also likes to smell your shampoo/perfume when he leans in to give small kisses on your neck. The type of cuddler that brings you closer to him when you try to get out of bed.

Carlos Sainz

Carlos would move to cuddle with you when a movie is playing or the two of you are just relaxing on the couch. He likes it when you lay your head on his chest so he can play with your hair and still pay attention to the screen in front of him. At night, the set up is usually the same, especially when he had been gone from home for a longer period of time, he holds you closer to him by wrapping an arm around you.

Max Verstappen

Max is the biggest softie. Usually cuddles before bed and loves being the small spoon, but he'll never say it out loud. Wrapping your arms and legs around his taller body puts him right to sleep. He likes holding your hands when they're around him. His cats usually stay at the end of the bed with the two of you. Bonus points if you play with his hair.

Checo Perez

I can see Checo moving around a lot when it comes to cuddling, but he wants to feel a part of you at all times. He would like it when you put your hands on his chest and talk with him about your guy's day before falling asleep. He also likes to cuddle right after the both of you shower and use the lotion he really likes on you.

Sir Lewis Hamilton

O lord, where do I begin. He would be a 10/10 cuddler. He would help you pick out the most comfortable (and stylish) pajamas to wear while he would probably to go bed without a shirt. Having Roscoe next to the two of you is a must and sometimes you wake up with him in the middle of you two. Lewis wouldnt mind any position, but he prefers being the big spoon. He would go all out too, preparing a bath for the two of you, massaging you with the best oils, and doing skin care together.

George Russell

Refuses to be the little spoon. (You've convinced him once or twice) Being taller than most people he would want his body wrapped around yours when cuddling. He also doesn't wear a shirt to bed and opts for long pants or shorts. Likes to go on his phone right before bed and tell you all the gossip he reads about (Pierre sends him screenshots).

Pierre Gasly

I think Pierre is the type to sleep naked lol. But if he has to wear something, you'll usually see him in boxers. Cuddling with Pierre would be a treat because he's either staying up late to play video games with Yuki or waking up early to go work out. I also see him being a radiator, emitting a lot of heat when he is sleeping. Pierre prefers to sleep on his back so anything position like that works for him.

Lando Norris

Lando would interesting to cuddle with,,, this boy would move around 100 times in one night. First he'd be the big spoon, move to sleep on your chest, and finally sleep in a starfish position lol. Lando will cuddle with you in the daytime preferably. He usually has you sit on his lap like a koala when he is gaming on his computer. When Lando loses in a game he'll accidentally curse in your ear, but give you lots of kisses to make up for it.

Daniel Ricciardo

Daniel's love language is physical touch and being near you all the time. It is a necessity to cuddle with him after returning from a trip. He'll be the big spoon and dig his face in your neck bringing you close as physically possible. If you're facing each other he'll trace the lines on your face bringing you to sleep faster. Daniel is a light snorer and feels bad about it lol.

Mick Schumacher

Mick is such a cute cuddler. He loves to have the air conditioning on blast, so expect him to have like three blankets. However, he's a blanket hogger and will have all three blankets on him. He would want to hug you, facing you and having your legs intertwined. Mick is a light sleeper, so every movement you make he'll notice.

[ohallthecrushes]

YOU’RE A STORM IN A TEACUP AND I’M STARTING TO LIKE THE CHAOS.

I can't, I can't... But i will 🥵 It's been a while since i've written a smut, so let me know what you think or what can i improve, cause damn... I've had so much fun writing for Elias and I want to write more smuuuuut, but I feel self-conscious about it. („• ֊ •„)

Without further ado!

Summary: Evelyn is a young-troubled woman who’s just escaped a highly guarded psych ward (twice, but this time causing havoc on her way out)

Now she’s running through the city, hiding from police. A not-so-accidental encounter with a man named Elias Voit will change her life forever. And she’ll change his. His seemingly selfless help is laced with danger, hidden agenda, manipulation, endless tension, and…love? Slow burning inteligent-idiots-in-love trope. But mind you, just because it’s a love story, doesn’t mean it ends well.

General warnings throughout the story: Manipulation, illegal activities, murder(s), Stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, explicit content, language… The whole pack. It’s Criminal minds after all.

In this episode: Elias craves Evelyn with every fabric of his being. He isn't a gentle man, and this won't be a gentle sex. He intends to overwhelm her, to take her apart, to claim her, to break down any defiance that's left in her. He wants her surrender to be complete. And if that'll happen to be too much for her?

Oh well, he thought, she'd seen that coming.

Back at the cabin, the air between Evelyn and Elias was thick with unspoken words and unclear tension. As she moved towards her room, hoping for a moment alone to process everything, he stopped her with a firm hand on her arm. His expression was serious, his eyes focused and unwavering.

"We need to talk." he simply said, his voice calm but authoritative. "There are some rules you need to remember and follow. And this isn’t negotiable. The rules are there for a reason and they're not just a suggestion."

She felt a knot tighten in her stomach, knowing this conversation was inevitable. She nodded, biting her lower lip, waiting for him to continue. She prepared herself for being reprimanded.

"First." he began "you need to listen to me. Don't wander off without letting me know where you're going. Don’t engage with strangers unless absolutely necessary, and never reveal the location of this cabin. You can't tell anyone your real name. We are still dealing with a dangerous situation, and your disobedience could bring us serious trouble."

He paused, watching her closely to make sure she understood. "The last thing we want is to draw attention, especially from the authorities. Remember, you’re still a refugee. The police are still looking for you. If you make a mistake, it could mean being locked up in a psych ward again."

She swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. She nodded again, acknowledging the seriousness of the situation. Her mind drifted briefly to the past, being institutionalized again was one of her biggest fear. She knew he was right, even if his tone was harsh. But he was still much calmer than she'd expected. She'd thought he'd lash out at her, yell even, but apparently his anger lessened a little or maybe he was more self-controlled than it seemed.

Seeing her compliance, he dismissed her, watching her going back to her room.

Problem had been addressed, but he knew that there was another matter that needed his attention - the sexual tension between them... he couldn't leave it unresolved. It was causing issues, and he knew that they need to defuse it. But addressing it, talking about it wouldn't do it. He knew her well enough already to predict that she would likely deny it, ignore it or even refuse to acknowledge it. And ignoring it wouldn't make it go away. It would only complicate things further.

He could insist of course, tell her to make up her mind, to stop lying to him and herself. To stop contradict herself only because she couldn't control her own damn urges. After all they both knew that if he hadn't pulled back, she'd have let him fuck her.

But this approach wouldn't help him achieve what he wanted. He imagined her biting her lip, trying to find the words to respond, but nothing would come. The room for her would start to feel too small, the air too thick... She would retreat to her room again.

He needed to be smart. He needed to recreate their dance, but this time he'd be the one in control.

Later that day Evelyn noticed that the front door, usually locked solid, hung ajar. Disbelief crossed her face. Elias wouldn't be so careless, leaving the door unlocked. The door was open on purpose.

She walked towards them and peeked outside. The sound of rhythmic chopping drew her attention. It came from the back of the cabin. Curiosity got the better of her, and she followed the sound. The area at the back of the cabin was bathed in the golden light of the afternoon sun. And there, in the center, stood Elias.

He was shirtless, his toned back and his muscles glistening with sweat. He was holding an axe and swinging it with ease, each hit splitting a log with a loud crack.

The image of him was captivating. He was everything she wasn't – controlled, disciplined, a stark contrast to the impulsive chaos that lived within her. She couldn't help herself and drifted closer, mesmerized by the display of his strength. She wanted to watch, just for a moment...

The rhythmic chopping stopped suddenly. He turned, his gaze landing directly on her. He smirked as he caught the blush creeping up her cheeks. The look on her face told him everything he needed to know.

His plan to bait her was unfolding perfectly.

"Enjoying the view?" he teased arching his brows, his voice casual, almost indifferent.

She stiffened, forcing a nonchalant shrug. "Just… surprised to see you chopping wood and... shirtless." The last word came out as a mumble, only deepening her blush.

He raised an eyebrow. "Does it bother you?"

He took a deliberate step closer, she could fell the heat of his body radiating towards her even across the distance.

"Please, you're not that impressive." she retorted, but her tone lacked conviction.

He knew she was trying to maintain her composure, but her act was transparent. Amateur, he thought with amusement. She was terrible at playing indifferent. He'd seen seasoned criminals maintain a poker face under torture; her attempt was as transparent as a child's lie.

"Liar." he simply stated.

She opened her mouth ready to defend her lie. But as she was preparing herself to argue with him, he turned his attention back to the task at hand, lifting another log onto the chopping block.

"Anyway." He said gesturing at the logs, not looking at her. "I could use some help stacking these logs. Unless you'd rather head back inside, unimpressed by my strength."

The sudden casual dismissal, as if he didn't care at all, left her momentarily stunned.

She watched him for a moment as he chopped another log. The sudden shift in his behavior, his nonchalant demeanor, left her feel... ignored? She was upset, not only because this was a clear manipulation but also because of the unsettling realization that she might actually wanted his attention. That she might liked the idea of his mouth back on hers, on his body pressed against her. That she might liked him.

No, no, no...she had to deflect it.

He turned to her once again, waiting for her answer. "Sooo?"

Before she could stop herself, the words spilled out of her. "Don't think for a second that I don't know what you're doing. It won't work! I'm not attracted to you in a way you think, despite of what we did. I don't like you!" Her voice was shaky, betraying the truth behind her denial. "You're a criminal, and I'm not that crazy to get involved in some… some cheap, meaningless affair with you. You have no power over me. You're not even that good-looking." The last statement was an obvious lie, as much to herself as to him.

Her voice rose to a near shout, a desperate and probably pathetic attempt to silence the traitorous whisper of her own heart.

"Back at the mansion I... what happened, what I allowed to happen was because…" she stammered, her mind a chaotic mess as she struggled to find a solid reason and articulate her confusion. "Because it was… It doesn't matter why." She shook her head. "It won't happen again, it can't happen again, so don't even think that you can just…" Her voice trailed off, her hands gesturing wildly as if trying to physically describe his manipulation.

The outburst wasn't the powerful declaration she'd wanted to achieve, but at least, she thought with a shaky breath, she'd managed to expel some steam.

He stood there, axe in hand. It was funny to look at her passionate denial. It was good. Her outburst, though clumsy and filled with transparent lies, was far more entertaining than a simple retreat. He'd hoped for a strong reaction and she had delivered. He set the axe down, wiping the sweat from his brow, and took a step closer to her.

His voice was low, measured. "You keep telling yourself that, Evelyn. But we both know that I'm having this effect on you that makes your knees go weak and your pants get soaked and you can't ignore it, no matter how hard you try." He paused, letting his words sink in. "And denying what you need that would help you finally satisfy yourself? That won't make it go away. You're just lying to yourself."

He watched as her expression shifted from frustration to astonishment. His gaze lingering on the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

"As for power." he added, his tone softer but no less intense. "you underestimate the pull you have, Evelyn. You may not see it, but you've already disrupted the carefully orchestrated game I was playing." With that, he turned back to the woodpile, picking up the axe once more, leaving her to struggle with her emotions.

They both were quiet for a moment, before he broke the silence sensing her presence still behind him.

"I. Don't. Like. You." he repeated her words to himself but loudly enough for her to hear it too, mimicking her tone for emphasis, but clearly mocking her. He'd been trying to be serious about her outburst a moment ago, but her obvious lie and the way she'd delivered it, was too funny to let it slip.

He straitened up and put the axe down again, his hands on his hips as he turned to her. "You know, it's weird how desperately convincing you've tried to sound, because your body tells a different story, sunshine. Maybe you should trust your instincts more… or trust me. But that's the problem, isn't it? You're afraid of giving in, because you think you can't trust me." his tone soft but teasing. "But you know that you will give in eventually, just like in the mansion, just like after the wine session... Just like before, and it makes you angry."

She glared at him. "No. Whatever you think may happen between us, it won't." she said, but her voice sounded even less certain than before.

"Let's put that to the test, hmm?" he suggested, his tone deceptively casual. "A little trust exercise. What do you say, princess?"

She hesitated, her pride was warring with her logic. "Trust exercise? You want me to trust you?"

"I want to prove it to you that you can trust me, despite how difficult it seems to you. Because not trusting me isn't the real issue here. If you give me and yourself a chance and trust me for a moment, you'll see what I'm talking about."

She crossed her arms thinking about it. She didn't agree with him. He couldn't be trusted because of who he was and the problem laid exactly there. But if he thought that he could prove something else... that was the issue, right? A vicious circle of wanting to trust him but not being able to.

After a moment and a long sigh, she asked. "What do you have in mind?"

"Ever chopped wood before?"

She shook her head, confused. "No."

His lips curved into a smile. "Come over here." He said as he picked up the axe and handed it to her. She took it and weighted it in her hands, it was heavier than she'd thought. She wasn't sure if she could handle it even though it looked easy, but there was first time for everything, right? And hey, if she didn't like this exercise she could use the axe on him, she thought smirking.

"Don't even think about it. You'd accidentally hurt yourself before you hurt me." He warned her as if reading her mind.

She rolled her eyes. "So what this exercise is about?"

"I'll help you chop it, but you have to trust me in this." He said as he positioned himself behind her and wrapped his arms around her. His hands over hers on the axe handle, guiding her grip.

"Now, let me guide you..." He said softly.

Their bodies were pressed together in a way that was both intimate and unsettling. He basically enveloped her with his body, his scent and heat surrounded her senses and she held her breath for a moment to remain calm.

"Close your eyes." he murmured, his breath warm against her ear, his voice another thing that made her shiver.

Feeling his bare chest pressed against her back, the closeness was almost overwhelming. She hesitated for a moment, but with a deep breath, she squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on the axe.

For a moment, he reveled in the physical contact, the feel of her delicate form pressed against him and the scent of her hair shampoo filling his nose.

Pushing the thought aside, he focused on the task.

"Trust me." he murmured in a husky whisper. "You'll be fine."

He could feel her tension, the way her body trembled ever so slightly. He tightened his grip on the axe handle, guiding her hands upwards. Then, with a swift, controlled motion, he brought the axe sharply down.

The wood cracked splitting in half. He held the axe suspended for a moment before he released his hold on her, stepping back just a tiny bit.

Still holding the axe she opened her eyes, blinking against the sudden sunlight. Her gaze fell upon the perfectly split log.

"See, not so scary, was it?" he said. "Trusting me, letting go of control… it doesn't have to be something to fear. I know what I'm doing, Evelyn. I can guide us, if you let me."

Of course she understood what he was trying to say. That it was safe to trust him, that he could guide her to accomplish something together. That letting him being in control didn't have to end up badly for her… But would it really be like that?

She spun around, her back slammed into his chest as she met his gaze. His nearness was an intoxicating distraction, that made it difficult to think clearly.

"Clever allegory." she finally managed to say, her voice tight. "But it doesn't prove anything, I still refuse to believe that the real issue lies elsewhere. And that I'll ever give in to you."

He smirked aware of her body reaction and internal conflict. He was already considering another exercise, another opportunity to push her boundaries and confront her denial head-on.

"Let's see how strong your convictions are." he said. "You can put the axe down."

She did what he said propping the axe against the log. He took a few steps back, finally giving her some space.

"Close your eyes, and don't open them until I say. Let me take control." he continued searching for her gaze. "Unless, of course, you'd rather retreat back to the safety of your denial and empty lies?"

She glared at him, knowing he was baiting her, but also putting her in a position where she couldn't say no, cause her retreat would only prove him right.

"No, why would I retreat? I'm having fun." she forced a smile, clearly sarcastic.

"Excellent. Close your eyes." he instructed with a playful command. "And this time, keep them closed until I tell you otherwise. Trust is key, remember?"

Not knowing what he was up to, but not wanting to pull back on, she fluttered her eyes shut. She stood there, tense and uncertain, every nerve on edge. He didn't approach her immediately, letting the suspense build, deepening her uncertainty. He circled slowly around her, his footsteps rustling the leaves on the ground. Her head slightly tilted, following the sound. Finally, he stopped behind her, close enough for her to feel his scent. With a slow movement his fingers gently took her chin, tilting her head up, exposing the vulnerable curve of her neck. Her entire body went rigid, unsure of what was coming next. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

"This is your chance to prove it." he whispered with a dangerous undercurrent. "Prove that everything you said before was true. Prove that you're not attracted to me. That you'll never give in. All you have to do is… resist."

Before she could even open her mouth to protest, he leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck. He lingered there for a moment, slightly licking the spot as his other hand wrapped around her waist. It was maddeningly gentle, he was teasing her with the possibility of more. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, every muscle in her body straining with the effort to resist the pull towards him. But when he captured her lips with his, all her resolve crumbled. She found herself responding against her better judgment.

It was a slow exploration, a testing of the waters. He wanted to see her reaction, to see if denial would triumph over the undeniable chemistry between them.

A strangled sound escaped her, half gasp, half choked protest. This wasn't supposed to happen. She was supposed to resist him, to hold onto her hatred and distrust.

The kiss deepened, and she turned to face him, her hands reaching up to rested on his shoulders. He tasted the lie on her lips, the denial she clung to so desperately. But with each passing moment, the resistance becoming weaker. A soft moan escaped her lips, a sound that aroused him.

This wasn't about trusting him, a harsh realization dawned on her. It was about trusting herself, the very part of her she'd spent so long suppressing. The real issue he'd been talking about. She struggled with trusting herself more than with trusting him.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes, usually calculating and cool, now filled with desire and hunger.

"So much for not being attracted."

He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip, a silent demand to open them wider, but she closed her mouth not wanting to give him a full satisfaction of bending her will completely.

"Still a stubborn little brat, aren't we?" he smirked. It was fine, he liked to work with a little disobedience.

He leaned in again and kissed her, parting her lips with his tongue. His hand slipped down her back, pressing her body flush against his. He wanted her to feel the length of his desire, the arousal that he felt because of her. He intended to show her exactly how much he wanted her, and how futile her remaining resistance truly was.

When he finally pulled back, she was left breathless. She knew it was useless to deny him anymore. She failed this exercise, but did she really mind?

"Let's go inside."

It wasn't a question, it was a command, one she found herself powerless to resist. Her steps were unsteady, but her body followed him without hesitation, and as they crossed the threshold, she knew there was no turning back from this moment.

The cabin door slammed shut behind them. He didn't waste any time. His grip on her tightened, as he led her straight to her room. He pushed her slightly inside before his hands grabbed her shirt and pulled it up, taking it off. His lips met hers again, as he reached at her back to unclip her bra.

He wasn't interested in a slow, drawn-out foreplay. He didn't care about slow reveals, about building anticipation. He craved the feel of her bare skin against his, of himself being inside her. He'd waited long enough already.

He felt her body tensed slightly. Her hands on his chest, once pulling him closer, now pressed against him in a weak attempt to slow him down. He smirked with amusement. She was aware of the choices she was making, however fleeting that awareness might be. But her resistance was weak, easily broken by his touch.

"Scared?" he murmured in a husky voice, looking for a sign in her eyes that could indicate that she didn't want him to continue, but all he found was excitement, a firm resolution with a hint of nervousness and self-conscious.

She was a bit scared, but it wasn't that kind of scare that would make her want to flee. Quite the contrary.

"A little bit scared, but... it makes me pretty pumped." She replied honestly, but with a hint of shyness, knowing that he understood what she meant. "Just...slow down, would you?"

He tilted his head as if considering her request, before he looked down at her bare breast and her nipples harden with arousal. No, he didn't plan to slow down, he wouldn't let the fragile hesitation derail their momentum. He wrapped his arm possessively around her waist and kissed her again.

A tremor ran down her spine, she could feel her body reacted with an unexpected submission. It both terrified her and made her more aroused. The sound she made against his mouth, a soft, breathy moan, was pure lust that made him growl.

He pushed her on the bed and came on top of her, recreating the abruptly broken moment at the mansion. But this time he wouldn't stop, this time he would take what belonged to him.

He quickly removed her jeans and every last piece of barrier there was. She laid there completely exposed and panting with anticipation, watching him taking off his own clothes. His cock hung freely as he removed his boxers, hard and longing for her warm walls.

She had a brief moment to comprehend the situation, to grasp the weight of their actions. She was aware that this moment would change their dynamic, rewrite her role in his life and probably complicate their relation even more, but the consequences seemed to be a distant thing now, a minor issue she could deal with later.

He climbed back on top of her, his hands instantly on her body, exploring her curves with a possessive intensity. With one hand he grabbed her boob and his fingers twisted her nipple, making her gasp from pleasure and slightly pain. His mouth and teeth marking her neck with hunger and urgency she'd never experienced before. It was a little bit too much, too overwhelming. Her hands landed on his back trying to hold onto something. When his lips captured hers, the strangled sound she made morphed into a desperate plea, but what was she begging for exactly, she wasn't sure.

But one thing was certain, Elias wasn't a gentle man, and this wouldn't be a gentle sex.

He intended to overwhelm her, to take her apart, to break down any defiance that left in her. He wanted her surrender to be complete. And if that would happen to be too much for her?

Oh well, he thought, she'd seen that coming.

He reached down with one hand, his fingers slid up and down her already wet folds with pleasurable strength, making her moan against his lips. When he finally pulled back and looked down at her, his eyes blazed with a possessive hunger that made her whimper with plead. He studied her for a moment. Overwhelming pleasure? Yes. Craving for more? Also yes. Fear? Maybe a little bit.

Her warm and wet walls swallowed two of his fingers as he scissored them in and out, hitting the sweet spot inside her.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" He asked in a low husky voice, watching her nodding her head, but not being able to answer.

He enjoyed watching her so vulnerable, so responding to him. He had a power over her and it only made his lust blistering, his cock almost painfully hard, demanding an action. He couldn't wait to finally be inside her, to claim her wholly and mark her as his. He could see that her breath also fastened and her cheeks colored with lovely pink. But he didn't let her relish this moment for much longer as he pulled his fingers out way too quickly.

"Not yet." He said, his voice low and commanded. "Spread your legs open for me."

She groaned dissatisfied, but did as he told her. He positioned himself between her legs and lowered his body. His cock pressed against her entrance as he pushed his hips forward with no warning. It was clear he wasn't waiting for permission, he was taking what he craved.

Her fingers curled on his back, scratching his skin at the sudden sensation of his cock sliding inside her with one swift motion.

"Fuck." She breathed closing her eyes.

It hurt a little, but the fullness she felt when he was all in, the pleasure it gave her, was intoxicating.

He looked down at her and started moving, relatively slow at first, savoring the feeling of her walls around his throbbing member, the delicious look on her face and the realization that she was finally his.

She opened up her eyes, his face was so close, his lips parted as he moved in and out. She pulled him even closer, feeling the weight of his body pressing her down to the bed. Their bodies closed any gaps that were between them as he leaned down and nibbled on her neck. She slid her fingers in his wavy hair and pulled back a little when his love bites got sharper, almost painful. He hissed and bit her neck in respond sucking on her skin until he left a big red mark there. It was clear that he was the one in control, the one who dictated the terms, and her subtle attempt to slow him down, only made him go rougher on her.

And weirdly, a part of her that she'd been barely aware of before, didn't mind that at all. His dominance fulfilled her hidden need to be completely at his mercy, to be completely submitted to him. It was something she didn't know she had in her. It was a revelation.

When he fastened the pace she tried to match his urgency, her hands roaming over his back, her nails digging into his skin, her lips capturing his. A guttural sound, a desperate need, he ripped from her throat as he pushed himself a little deeper inside her.

He reveled in her unrestrained passion, the way she met his every touch with a demanding fervor of her own. She wasn't just giving herself to him, she was taking him in return, demanding as much as she gave. He didn't mind, not entirely. He guided her with a firm hand, dictating the pace and the rhythm. He was in control and she had to obey.

"You're so fucking wet, jesus..." He said half in disbelief, half praising her as he slightly changed his position. Now he was pounding into her from a different angle, hitting a different spot. His hand reached down and rubbed her clit.

"Elias, I... I'm going t-to..." she moaned with her eyes closed.

He suddenly stopped and withdrew his hand to her displeasure. "No." He growled.

She tried to protest, but he silenced her with his hand. "You will come only if and when I say so. Understand?"

"Yes." she muffled, unused to this kind of dynamic in bed.

Satisfied by her respond he took her hand off her mouth and he changed his position once more. This time to go deeper.

She tried to withhold herself, but it was difficult, her pussy was throbbing, aching for release.

"Elias, please... Please, let me..."

Her begging was a symphony to his ears, a nice contrast to her usual dull defiance. He couldn't help and prolonged this little torture for a bit longer before he finally let her come. When the release came he watched her body stiffed, her back arched, her mouth open wide. She wriggled her legs and moaned his name over and over in a daze as he pounded inside her, until her orgasm subsided.

He gasped feeling shivers run down his body. It was an image that would be imprinted on his mind forever.

"You look incredible like that." He whispered with a softer voice that surprised even him, watching her smiling.

At this moment he knew she was hoping for him to slow down or even stop to let her catch a break, but he did none of that. Instead he fastened his pace pinning her down to the mattress again. She gasped in surprise.

"Wait..." She tried to stop him, but he only growled, focused on his own pleasure now, ignoring her plead. He kept pushing faster and harder, pulling one of her leg up to go even deeper. She squirmed and wriggled underneath him, his named rolled off of her lips like a whimper.

"Elias, s-slow down... I , I can't... take... it."

The sensation overwhelmed her oversensitive body. The pleasure he'd given her a second ago mixed now with roughness and pain that consumed her entirely. She was falling apart underneath him and it was too much to handle.

His reply however was far from what she excepted. Gone was the soft tone, replaced by a command.

"I don't care if you can't, you fucking will."

Her hands moved to his chest in a weak clumsy attempt to slow him down, but he quickly shifted and grabbed them, pinning them above her head.

"Stay still for me, I won't repeat myself."

She wriggled some more unable to control herself. It was too much, too fast, too rough but surprisingly not unpleasant. Her body ached with a new unexpected sensation, a pleasant tremor that boded another orgasm. She surrendered to him, her legs wrapped around his hips as she came the second time in hot waves, stronger than before.

He growled feeling her orgasm around his shaft. He was trying to push deeper, but his moves became more shaky, his pace more unsteady and soon after, he followed, releasing himself inside of her.

"Fuck!" He growled as he closed his eyes shut.

The warm spurts of his cum filled her fully as he pushed himself all the way in, his body shaking in ecstasy. After a moment he lowered himself on top of her, releasing her hands, but not pulling out. He hid his head in the crook of her neck, panting heavily.

They both stayed like that for a while, too tired, too spent and too elated to move. They were basking in the afterglow, delightfully lost in the moment. Right now, nothing else mattered. Not the rules, not the consequences, not the complicated aftermath they'd have to deal with later. The truth was, they'd taken each other, and there was no turning back now.