#i have guitar lessons after this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kamaluhkhan · 17 days ago

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ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY

pairing: vi x fem!reader word count: 10.5k summary: after years away, vi returns home for the holidays and reunites with you, her ex-girlfriend. the universe (*cough cough* and your meddling families) push you together again, and neither of you can ignore the feelings that linger. (or: you, vi, and the ghosts of christmas past, present and future.) warnings: reader is ekko's older sister but not necessarily biological so appearance isn't specified; childhood friends to lovers + second chance romance; reader gets hit on by a creepy guy + gets into a fight (injury + blood mention), smut [strap mention (reader receiving), oral (both receiving), fingering (both receiving), biting, spitting, tribbing, sub!vi makes an appearance...kinda rough + possessive sex but there's aftercare too <33] (18+) ! a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR GIRLS AND GAYS <33 tbh i debated whether to post this now bc xmas was like....3 weeks ago but figured i might as well. so pls enjoy what is essentially an x-rated sapphic hallmark holiday movie.

♪: ‘tis the damn season by taylor swift (sun); winterbreak by MUNA (moon); last christmas by wham! (rising)

track 1: thank god it’s christmas by queen

(winter — age 17)

“okay, just relax your fingers — no, but keep some tension, apply a bit of pressure on the string….yep, that’s better. now, straighten your back….”

it’s dark and snowing outside, and the cold’s seeping in through the window of her attic bedroom, but vi still almost melts into the floor when you follow her advice and press against her chest. she worries that you can feel how fast her heart is beating — faster than it maybe should for someone she’d been calling friend ever since she could remember.

you shift in her lap, her arms still wrapped around yours from when she offered to guide you through an instrumental version of wham’s “last christmas.” you tilt your head towards her, nose almost brushing against hers.

“vi?”

“....yes?”

“maybe we should finish our lesson another time. we better hurry up, anyways. i bet ekko and powder are already arguing over whether we should watch home alone or home alone two.”

vi snorts. it’s practically a tradition at this point, along with the annual post-christmas-dinner pyjama movie night.

you try to hand her the bright pink guitar pick, but vi shakes her head.

“it’s yours. you’re gonna need it if you want more lessons.”

“hm, or maybe i could sell it for a billion dollars once you’re a big rockstar,” you tease. “i can picture thousands of fangirls painting your portrait and writing mrs. violet lanes in their notebooks.”

you get up, shoot her a wink, and leave vi on the bed, clutching her guitar and trying to get her pulse under control.

neither of you say anything as you both get changed. the stereo plays the mixtape you’d made for her — you got her for secret santa this year.

“my mom loved this song,” vi hums, a warm ache growing in her chest when the next song plays. this is the second christmas without her, but vi is still not used to using past tense. “she thought freddie mercury was the best rockstar of all time.”

“i remember. you…you must miss her.”

of course she does, and she could run through a million reasons why.

“vander says you’ll be spending new year’s at your dad’s,” is what she says instead.

you let out something between a scoff and a laugh. “yeah.”

“your mom going, too?”

“just me and ekko. i swear, it’s like he’s trying to be this perfect dad to his new stepkids, meanwhile he’s the one who left us here to deal with his mess, the one who just ran away, and….whatever.” this time, you do scoff. “hey – do you have a shirt i could borrow?”

vi looks over to find that you’ve switched from the velvet dress you wore during dinner into a pair of flannel plaid pants; her cheeks flush when she sees that you’re only wearing a black lacy bralette on top.

she clears her throat and pulls a clean jersey from her dresser, tosses it over to you.

“that’s a shame. i was looking forward to spending new year’s eve together.”

you hum and slip the shirt over your shoulders. the only sources of light are the moon and the stars and the multicoloured christmas lights strung along vi’s walls, but she swore that your eyes flick down to her lips.

“why’s that?” you ask.

there’s something absolutely dizzying about being this close to you, the way your sparkly eyes wait patiently for her to respond. joni mitchell sings about skating away on a river, and vi wishes she could skate away from this conversation, but there’s nowhere to go.

vi blinks away from your gaze and fixates on one of the many things she’s pinned up on her bedroom walls throughout the years. it’s a page torn from an old notebook of yours, something from seventh grade math class, but vi always loved your little drawings in the margins.

vi?” you prompt, never one to let go easily.

“i want to kiss you at midnight,” she confesses.

“yeah?”

vi nods. she’s tempted to walk out of her room, down the stairs and out into the winter night, until you weave your fingers through hers and squeeze her hand. she looks up — and you’re beaming, a smile that brightens vi’s entire being.

“i want that too.”

vi finally, finally crashes her mouth onto yours, lips sticky with marshmallow fluff.

you taste like vanilla and gingerbread and hot chocolate that is definitely not spiked with irish cream that vi slipped into your mugs while you distracted the adults.

you taste like home.

….

so, slight change of plans….i’m gonna stay here in london with the rest of the band. apparently the kirammans throw a super fancy holiday party with super fancy people every year, and cait convinced her parents to let us perform. fingers crossed someone important discovers us.

merry christmas, baby. and, if i don’t get the chance to say it: happy new year.

….

track 2: winter wonderland by darlene love

(winter — age 12)

you’re supposed to be looking after ekko while your parents are at work, but all that really means is making a big bowl of kraft dinner and stove-top s’mores for lunch and watching old christmas specials on the worn-out living room couch while you draw in your sketchbook and your brother, only 7 years old, programs the doorbell to play ‘jingle bells.’

when someone rings the doorbell, the tune floats through the house and wakes up your dog who starts barking like it’s the end of the world.

“easy, ziggy.” you click a marker closed and run a hand through the husky’s fur, attempting to calm him down. “let’s go see who it is.”

you open the door, and there’s vi: snowflakes sparkling on her eyelashes, pink hair hidden under a knitted hat, and a toothy grin that brings out the dimple in her flushed cheeks. she’s also got a split lip and crooked nose from her last hockey game.

“we’re building a fort,” she tells you. she shuffles to the side so that you can see powder, who’s making a snow angel. “well, we’re going to. wanna join?”

you nod, smiling. “ekko!”

your brother’s already behind you, slipping on his chunky boots and oversized coat that used to be yours before running outside and collapsing onto the fluffy snow next to powder. ziggy bolts outside, too, running circles around them.

you stumble to get your winter gear on as fast as possible, the cold air rushing inside your front hallway as vi waits for you, kicking her snowy boot against the concrete entryway step. not even a heartbeat after shutting the door behind you, vi takes your gloved hand in hers and pulls you forward, the two of you a flurry of laughter.

…..

hey, pretty girl. i was at this party and one of your songs came on! every time i hear it, i’m in awe of how amazing it is….how amazing you are. i’m basically walking home in a snowstorm, so i’m gonna go before my fingers freeze off, but i just wanted to say that i’m so proud of my rockstar girlfriend.

i was also wondering: are you coming home any time soon? the holidays are coming up, and i really miss you. we all do.

…..

track 3: last christmas by wham!

(winter — now)

vi should have learned from sonic youth and fleetwood mac:

no sex or romance between bandmates. it never ends well.

it was bad enough giving into the rumors and fooling around with cait, but it’s another layer of messiness now that cait and maddie dating. meanwhile, cait is very much still bitter towards vi, vi is very much pining after someone whom she’s pretty sure never wants to see her again, and steb and lorris are very much caught in the middle. it’s no wonder the band’s manager suggested everyone take some time apart to ease the tension. frankly, while others protested, vi was almost relieved at the suggestion.

so cait’s off to london, maddie’s off to glasgow, the boys are going god knows where, and vi —

vi’s heading back home, back to you.

she wakes up in the bed of her childhood for the first time in a long time. her dad put on fresh sheets, but they’re still the same ones from back then — worn flannel with cartoon penguins. it takes a lot of willpower to untangle herself from the warmth and cloud-like softness, but eventually she heads downstairs to the kitchen.

powder still has exams so she’s not home from college until tomorrow, and vander’s gone to work. it’s just vi in her too-small christmas pyjamas (she has yet to unpack), eating a box of stale cinnamon pop-tarts for breakfast even though it’s well past noon. curiosity gets the best of her, so she peers through the window to see if anyone is next door.

your mom’s car is in the driveway, completely snowed in. there had only been a dusting of snow while vi was devouring the first pastry, but four pop-tarts in and it’s about doubled. she waits until the snow stops falling; with nothing better to do and a sugar rush to burn off, vi pulls on her old winter coat and snow boots she hasn’t worn since she was 18, grabs a shovel from the garage, and gets to work.

it doesn’t take her long to clear the driveway, and she has some adrenaline to spare, so she decides to be a good neighbor.

vi’s heaving one last shovelful of snow over her shoulder when she hears:

“violet? is that you?”

she turns around. and, okay the first thing she registers is ziggy running towards her, the husky toppling her over into the snow.

“i missed you too, zig,” vi laughs.

she gets up as ziggy’s still bounding around in the snow, and sees your mom standing in the doorway, looking a little more tired and a little more gray. but the smile on her face when she sees that it is, in fact, vi — it’s so bright that the snow might not exactly melt away, but the years sure do.

vi remembers making snow angels with you while your moms gossiped over tea, how the two of you would stomp inside with a mess of slush and snow while laughter echoed from the living room. vi remembers your mom keeping a comforting arm around her shoulder through her mom’s funeral while you held her hand. she remembers your mom helping her pick out the perfect corsage to match your suit at prom, making a joke about how next time it might be an engagement ring, and telling vi how proud her mother would have been of her at your high school graduation party.

with the golden glow of nostalgia comes a crashing wave of guilt at what vi said to you last time you spoke.

“come inside, sweetheart. i’ll make you some hot cocoa as a thank you.”

vi is tempted to reject the offer, but your mom looks so hopeful and vi’s fingers are about to freeze off, anyways.

so your mom makes hot cocoa as vi defrosts, the two of them chatting in the familiar yellow kitchen that you and vi once almost burnt down while trying to bake a cake for powder’s birthday. even the magnets and paper memories decorating the fridge are the same, with the addition of an article about vi’s band that was featured in the rolling stone, pinned up by a ceramic cow.

“she’s an art teacher now,” your mom tells vi after giving an update on ekko. she glances at the oven clock. “speaking of which — i know you just finished shoveling our driveway, but do you mind helping me with another favor?”

“after the world’s best hot chocolate? anything.”

“i told my daughter that i’d pick her up from work, and i’m wondering if you would be able to take care of that.” your mom smiles. “i’m sensing a bad migraine coming on.”

the last sip of hot chocolate trickles down vi’s throat like cement. she knew she’d be seeing you, but didn’t quite plan for how that….reunion might go.

“of course,” vi says.

vi puts both of their mugs in the dishwasher, about to grab the car keys from the hook by the door when your mom calls out:

“oh, and violet?” vi turns around. “i’m so glad you’re home.”

you’re talking to a student when vi enters the art room of your old high school. nothing else in the building had changed — same boring concrete, same scratched up lockers, same graffiti immortalizing whom hooked up with whom. this room is the exception, vibrant with how students’ art is displayed all around, paintings and drawings and collages, and you’ve strung up multicolored christmas lights that give the whole space a cozy ambiance. you look the part of a cool, young art teacher: wearing a simple dark purple turtleneck tucked into black jeans and the same combat boots you’ve had since tenth grade, paint stains on your skin that is exposed by rolled up sleeves, and a marker behind your ear. you’re standing in front of an easel, talking to the student who happens to notice vi before you do.

“holy shit. is that violet lanes?”

vi watches as your face scrunches up in confusion, and then falls into shock when you see her standing there.

“it seems that it is violet lanes,” you state coolly while the student squeals. “what are you doing here?”

“oh, i, uh,” vi clears her throat, her palms sweaty. why is her body reacting like she’s a teenager about to ask out her crush for the first time? “your mom wasn’t feeling great, asked if i could pick you up from work.”

“you guys are friends?” the student asks, eyes wide as they flick between you and vi.

“we used to date, actually,” vi clarifies. wrong move, she realizes, because you can’t help but glare at her.

“oh my god.” the student squeals again and reaches in their pocket to whip out their phone. “i need to tell alyssa that ms. l/n was in a relationship with the violet lanes. are you guys gonna get back together? oh my god, have you come to win her back —”

“layla,” you clip, and by the furrow of layla’s brow, it seems like you’re not usually so stern. you smile at layla, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “you’ve done some great work today, but you’ll have to finish this when we’re back from winter break. do you mind giving ms. lanes and i a minute?”

layla nods once, gathers her things. when she walks past vi, she can’t help but ask for an autograph. vi complies, of course, even lets her take a selfie. a fan is a fan, after all.

and, quite frankly this is the only part of being in the band that she still enjoys: hearing how excited young girls are at the music she writes, the music that vi wished she had growing up, about girls liking girls, about girls falling in and out of love with each other. everything else is just an occupational hazard that vi’s getting more and more fed up with.

when vi turns her attention back to you, you’re finished putting all the material away, wiping your hands with an already paint-stained towel.

“i meant what you’re doing back in town,” you explain, not quite meeting vi’s eyes. you pack away some books and your laptop into a supple leather briefcase, and slip on your coat. vi’s cheeks flush when you catch her watching you.

“it…it doesn’t matter. i’m here for a while, though.”

you sigh. “okay.” and you don’t say anything more. vi keeps up with you as you switch off the lights, lock the door, and stride to the parking lot in silence. when you get to the car, you extend your hand.

“i’m driving,” you say, gesturing at her to give you the keys. “we both know that you’re a terrible driver.”

“i’m not a terrible driver,” vi guffaws.

“says the lesbian who gives the rest of us a bad name,” you quip, a hint of a smile dancing across your lips, like the first bout of sun after a winter storm. “c’mon, pretty girl. i’m not giving up, so unless you wanna freeze to death….”

the nickname slips effortlessly from your tongue, so much so that you don’t even seem to realize it, but vi’s breath hitches and she’s more than happy to fold to your every whim if it means hearing you call her pretty one more time.

“so….” vi glances over at you from the passenger seat. a snowy landscape passes outside the window, and you tap on the steering wheel to a generic christmas song that plays through the stereo. “you’re teaching high school now?”

she wonders if you remember the last fight you had, almost two years ago to the day.

you keep your eyes on the road. “yeah. guess i graduated from finger-painting with kindergarteners.”

vi feels her cheeks heat up all over again.

so, you do remember.

she wonders if you’ve replayed it over and over again and hoped for a different ending like she did. she should have thought more about what to actually say to you —

“you know, i never understood why you liked this song so much,” you suddenly say when the radio starts playing dolly parton’s cover of ‘i’ll be home for christmas.’

vi can read between the lines, but she’s waiting for you to point out the irony in her preference for a song that’s about someone wanting to go home for christmas, something vi has deliberately avoided at all costs these past few years.

“it just seems kinda sad,” you continue.

“you love ‘last christmas,’ and that one’s pretty sad,” vi points out.

“sure, but it ends hopefully.”

“oh?” vi tilts her head towards you. “how’d you figure?

“sure, it’s someone singing about heartbreak and how much it sucks during christmastime, but then there’s this hope that they still find true love down the line. it’s a maybe that isn’t hopeless.” you shrug. “meanwhile, your song ends with the lyric ‘if only in my dreams,’ which just seems too accepting of the fact that going home for christmas, being with the person they love — it might just be a dream.”

“i don’t know. some dreams do come true,” vi muses.

by now, you’ve made it home. you put the car in park but keep the engine going, presumably to avoid becoming icicles. neither of you make a move to leave.

you glance over at vi. “your dreams sure came true, ms. violet lanes,” you joke, but there’s an air of sadness to it.

“not all of them.”

“yeah? which ones haven’t?”

vi swallows the lump in her throat and hopes that you understand the look in her eyes. “let’s just say i’m working on them.”

you blink away and cut the engine.

….

you’re still dealing with the shock of seeing vi back in town when your brother, freshly home from college, suggests going skating.

he can be fairly convincing, especially when he mentions that it’s a christmas season tradition, so, you prepare for what is essentially a double date with your brother, his girlfriend/your ex-girlfriend’s sister, and your ex-girlfriend, with isha as a fifth wheel.

should be fun.

it turns out, despite all her past hockey experience, vi really cannot skate. in fact, skating seems to be the complete opposite of riding a bike: she’s terrible at it after years off the ice, essentially reenacting that scene from bambi. it’s easier to ignore vi’s presence when she’s sitting next to the snack bar, by herself, but then powder skates up next to you and asks if you’d be kind enough to please help her sister have a good time. you roll your eyes at her shit-eating grin, but it is a bit sad, watching vi on the sidelines. she’s wearing a beanie and a pair of sunglasses to hide her identity, and now she kinda looks like a divorced dad watching his grown kids pass him by while he’s stuck in a midlife crisis.

you convince vi to give skating another shot — it’s tradition after all — and pull her out onto the rink. you start by holding her from behind, keeping her hips steady until she gets the hang of it. you try to let go, but vi stumbles and reaches out for your gloved hand, and you melt into the familiarity of her fingers curled around yours. the two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm, first with you pulling vi along, then with her taking the lead, until vi almost knocks into a small child.

“see what i mean by you being a bad driver?” you jest, successfully maneuvering to avoid collision.

then, you follow where vi’s eyes have settled — on powder and isha laughing and chasing each other around the rink. vi had asked earlier when isha had dyed her hair blue; you still have some residue under your nails from last weekend, when powder came for a study break and the three of you ended up helping isha achieve a new look she’d apparently been itching to try.

“you know powder’s graduating this year?”

“she overloaded her credits so she could get out of there as soon as possible,” you explain, having had many conversations with powder leading up to the decision.

vi nods, her jaw clenched. you already know what she’s thinking, and frankly, you agree: that vi hasn’t been here, literally and figuratively. you also feel the warmth of vi’s skin radiating through her glove to yours, notice the slight flush to her freckled cheeks, how chapped her lips are from the cold, so much so that you’re tempted to share the vanilla chapstick you’ve got on your own lips, to kiss her deeply like you did last time you were here, together.

it’s only been three days since vi’s been back home. this is only the second time you’ve seen her, and you’re already falling back into old patterns, tempted to ask her to stay, to try again, even though you already know the answer.

except….not staying isn’t the deal breaker it used to be, so maybe trying again isn’t as hopeless as you think it is.

vi squeezes your hand, and you realize that you’ve stopped skating entirely.

“hey. you still with me?”

you nod, decide to enjoy this moment for as long as you can, and the two of you glide across the ice.

…..

when you suggest making stove-top s’mores, it’s another item on the list of things she’d missed.

a list that’s been growing a lot these past few days.

vi offers to make more once you’ve all run out, and ekko follows her into their kitchen while you, powder, and isha keep watching christmas specials in the living room. she turns on the gas stove, stabs a marshmallow through a wooden skewer and waits for it to roast — and, for ekko to say something.

“i don’t know what happened between you and my sister, but i need you to promise me that the tabloids aren’t true. that you and that kiramman chick didn’t hook up…at least until after y’all broke up.”

“or, what, you’re gonna challenge me to an arm wrestle? think you can finally beat me?”

“oh, i know it.”

a pause. the marshmallow catches on fire and vi blows on it to quell the damage.

“i didn’t cheat on her.” she throws out the burnt marshmallow and gives it another shot. “i would never. does….does she think i did?”

ekko shrugs. “not sure. some of those articles are pretty convincing. but, since you’re promising me that you didn’t…”

“i didn’t.”

“then that saves me from kicking your ass.” ekko nods once and uncrosses his arms, handing vi some graham crackers and chocolate. “actually, i could use your help with something.”

“sure.”

“she applied to this great art residency in new york, like, on whim. the only people she’s told are me, powder, and vander….i think she’s nervous to tell mom, at least until she knows for sure she’s gotten in, but this is the most excited i’ve seen her be about something in a while, and she worked really hard on her application…”

“i’m sure she did,” vi states. “what do you need my help with?”

“convincing her to go.”

“i’d love to help, but i’m not sure i’m someone she’d wanna hear from, especially about this. she was never a fan of me leaving to pursue my dreams.”

“she was never a fan of you leaving,” ekko corrects. “she’s still a fan of you pursuing your dreams.” he juts his chin out at the article stuck to the fridge.

vi had just assumed that your mom had pinned that up.

“okay.” vi says. “i’ll talk to her.”

a plateful of semi-burnt s’mores later, and vi and ekko return to the living room with the rest of you.

vi forgot how nice this felt, all of you cuddled on the couch, ziggy included, watching how the grinch stole christmas. she half expects her mom to walk in through the door without even knocking, shake the snow off her hair, and hold up a batch of pre-baked gingerbread people she’d gotten for the kids to decorate.

but that’s not happening. other than isha, none of you are kids anymore and things can never be the same.

and yet — you glance over at vi and give her a sticky marshmallow smile, and she feels her heart grow three sizes.

….

baby, i swear it’s not what it looks like. the record label thought it would be good promo to get a picture of me kissing under the mistletoe…’tis the season and all that…..cait and i were both really drunk and things got a bit out of hand….but it looks worse than it is. i swear on my mother’s grave that nothing happened.

please call me back, baby…..i’m so fucking sorry….please.

it’s not christmas without at least hearing your voice.

….

track 4: river by joni mitchell

(winter — age 23)

it’s hard to believe that hours ago, you were kissing vi backstage and showering her with praise after the concert. she was happy to indulge in your excitement, even though she was all sweaty and her ears were still ringing from the crowd.

more than happy, in fact. phone sex can only go so far, and it’d been too long since vi had seen you writhe and heard you whimper for her firsthand.

“i missed you so fucking much,” you groan, tightening your grip on vi’s hair. it’s now an inky black instead of fuschia — the band’s starting to lean more punk rock.

a particularly hard thrust is her way of telling you that she missed you too. so fucking much. she throws your legs over her shoulders, pushing the strap deeper inside you and digging her knees into the mattress as she coaxes you through another orgasm. you pull her down for one last searing kiss, your tongue searching each crevice of her mouth.

“i can’t believe you’re here,” vi continues a few moments later, after you’re both cleaned up and getting dressed. she wants to add something along the lines of i love you, but she bites back the sentiment. she’ll save that sappy shit for later tonight, when she finally gets down on one knee for you.

you glance back at her from where you’re pulling out a sparkly silver dress from your side of the closet (and isn’t that such a slip of the mind? your side, as if it’s a shared closet and a shared bedroom and a shared home; if she thought about it more, though, she would realize that, though she has no problem asking you to marry her, she’s still terrified at the thought of staying in one place for more than a few months).

“me neither,” you smile.

vi walks over to you, presses her half-dressed body against your lingerie-clad form (vi’s sure you wore this fuschia set just to drive her insane; it’s working). she lodges her hand behind your ear and pulls you in closer, kisses you deeply because you’re here and she missed you so fucking much and she’s so ready to make you her wife.

she could write a whole record just about the taste of your lips: the sweetness of vanilla chapstick, the saltiness of sweat and the headiness lingering from the wetness you lapped up from between her legs.

you pull away first. vi tries not to stare at how your chest heaves, your breasts straining against intricate lace.

“we, um.” you clear your throat. you slip your hand underneath vi’s blazer, and she groans when you make contact with the exposed, burning skin of her abdomen. vi thinks you’re about to suggest another round, or two, or ten, but instead you untangle yourself from her and say: “we should probably get ready.”

the after party is going well. the club’s busy, the music’s good, and the drinks are flowing.

you seem to be having a great time until someone (probably cait or maddie, on cait’s behalf) lets it slip that the band’s heading to london later in the month to start recording their new album before the end of the year….something vi decidedly did not want to tell you until later tonight, after the high of the proposal, after she’s promised you that she’s dedicated to this relationship, that she’s always been dedicated to you.

instead, vi’s trailing behind you as you angrily stomp towards the bathroom, her mind scrambling to come up with a way out of this argument.

there’s a line, but you cut in front and slip inside as soon as someone walks out.

“wait, what the fu —”

you slam the door and lock it behind you once you’re both inside, ignoring the subsequent banging and jiggling of the handle.

“please, baby, let me explain —”

“i can’t fucking believe you,” your voice is steady, measured, and for some reason that makes vi even more nervous. “you give empty promise after empty promise that you’ll be more present, but something always gets in the way, is always more important than —”

“don’t you dare say that you’re not important to me. i offer to fly you out anywhere to be with me, but you’ve only taken me up on the offer once. twice, now.”

“it’s been five years, vi. five years of us staying together because….god, at this point i don’t even know why — ”

“do you not understand how much i love you?” vi raises her voice over the sound of the club music outside. “i was gonna propose tonight.”

you stare at her, then start to laugh.

“please tell me you’re joking.”

“i’m not.”

“if you think marriage will save us, then you’re delusional. what was your plan — call me your wife while we’re thousands of miles apart, but not even have the time to answer my calls? we’re barely in a relationship now, vi. all that’s left between us are missed calls and voicemails —”

“oh that’s really all that’s left between us?”

“i love you, violet. i have since we were kids. but, now, there’s also all this — the parties, the crowds, the fame….you’ve gone all over the world, and you can’t even be bothered to visit your family during the holidays.”

“well i’m sorry that my ambitions are bigger than that nothing town we grew up in,” vi snaps. “i can’t believe you’re throwing a tantrum because i’m not making it home for christmas. for what? so we can all reminisce by the fireplace, pretend that we can be kids again, even though things can —” vi chokes back a sob, soothes it with a healthy dose of anger. “things can never be the same. you need to grow the fuck up.”

“maybe you should be the one to grow up!” you finally yell. “convincing yourself that this relationship is working, meanwhile you’re running away from everything and everyone you grew up with because it reminds you of your —”

“at least i’m not afraid to actually go after my dreams,” vi cuts you off before you can finish that sentence, uses the broken shards of your words against you. “don’t you want more for your life than finger-painting with a bunch of kindergarteners? you’re gonna end up just like your deadbeat mom, going nowhere, drinking yourself to sleep, all alone, with nothing to show for the life you’ve lived.”

as soon as the words leave her mouth, vi wishes she could take them back. you don’t bother swallowing your tears, letting them rush down your cheeks. vi digs her nails into her palms to prevent herself from reaching out and wiping them. it wouldn’t make sense, anyways. she’s the reason you’re crying.

you take a deep, shaky breath.

“yeah, well, i’m glad that your mom isn’t alive to see what a selfish asshole you’ve become.” there’s a pause, and vi feels her stomach turn at your casual cruelty, your quiet anger. “i’m gonna pack up my stuff and catch the first flight out of here. merry fucking christmas and happy fucking new year. have a nice life.”

vi screams and throws the velvet box against the door you’ve slammed shut behind you. the hot tears that were building in her throat finally boil over. the engagement ring clatters onto the floor.

…..

vi? it’s me. not sure if you’ve blocked my number. i wouldn’t blame you. i know it’s been, like, a year, but it feels weird not hearing your voice for this long, especially around the holidays. well, i guess i could just turn on the radio….it’s not the same, though. anyways, merry christmas. happy new year, too. and….and i’m sorry.

please come home.

…..

track 5: i’ll be home for christmas by dolly parton

(winter — now)

karaoke at the last drop used to be one of vi’s favorite christmas traditions, so you decidedly avoided it at all cost since the breakup. vander always tried to convince you to join, but he understood and even made sure to not give you a shift during that time after you started working there at 21.

you kept the job because, evidently, high school art teachers don’t make a ton of money, and you would one day like to move out of your mother’s house.

which, as it turns out, might happen sooner rather than later. you applied for this artist residency in new york, and, yeah, you put time and effort and heart into your application, but you were sure that you’d be rejected. while you got your acceptance email this morning, and you were so fucking overjoyed at first, the thought of leaving still terrifies you, so you’ll postpone worrying about that until after the holidays. that’s what they’re for, anyways: a break from reality, a peek into a cozy snow-covered world where everyone is festive and joyous and worry-free.

right now though, you’re feeling neither festive nor joyous. gert called in sick, and no one else is able to cover for them, so you’re stuck at the last drop on christmas eve, listening to one of your old high school classmates drunkenly fumble the lyrics of darlene love’s ‘christmas (baby, please come home).’

about three verses in, vi walks into the bar with mylo and claggor, flakes of fluffy snow melting into her grayish pink hair. you’re already pouring their drinks before they reach the counter. mylo and claggor offer their sincere appreciation, chattering away as they leave to snag a booth in the corner. vi stares at her drink before grabbing the beer glass.

“you remember.”

“are you surprised?”

vi smiles. “no. it’s just nice. cait keeps insisting i order gin martinis instead. says it’s classier.”

something sour curdles in your stomach. “yeah, well. i’ve always liked you the way you are.”

that probably ended up sounding like you’re still pining after vi (which you’re….not) rather than the bitter comment you intended it to be.

vi’s soft blue eyes search yours.

“i better get back to the boys,” she finally says. “maybe sign up for a song or two.”

you’re busy clearing a table when you hear her voice again. actually — a silence fills the bar, and it’s replaced by the lush rumble of vi singing ‘last christmas.’

you watch her as she performs, eyes locked on yours, and it’s over before you know it. you feel like you should go say something to her, but then there are a bunch of excited fans that she has to attend to, signing autographs, taking photos.

as you swallow your disappointment, the normal chatter of the bar resumes. you’re walking back to the kitchen when you feel someone pinch the back of your thigh, right under your ass. you whip around to find that old classmate who butchered a christmas classic an hour or so before (james, you think his name is, from ninth grade science), with the most arrogant smirk.

“hey, gorgeous. my friends and i were just arguing over who should take you home tonight.” he gestures towards a table of guys who look like equally preppy assholes. “i won the chugging contest.”

“good for you,” you say, balancing a tray of empty glasses. “grope someone in here again, and you’ll be sorry you did.” you turn around to get back to work, but james grabs your wrist and stands up abruptly so you’re chest-to-chest.

“i don’t think you understand what i’m offering, baby.” you gag at the nickname and the stench of beer on his breath. you’re a bartender, you’re used to getting hit on, but creeps like this are the worst.

you rip away from his grasp.

“i’m not interested,” you snap. “and i’m not your baby.”

“listen.” james puts his hands on your shoulders, and if both of your hands were free, you would promptly push him away. everyone’s having a good time and you don’t wanna cause a scene, so you try to think of ways to get this asshole out of the bar and into the snow without much of a fight. “you know, santa might come down your chimney on christmas eve, but if you’ve been a good girl this year i’ll come down your —”

“there you are!” powder’s voice is loud over the sound of someone singing another generic christmas carol. she knocks into your side, breathless. “sorry we’re late. had some car trouble.”

“well, hello.” he removes his hands from your shoulders, shifts his predatory gaze from you to powder.

oh, fuck no.

“powder,” you keep your voice steady even if your heart is racing. “go back to the table. i’ll be there in a sec.”

james reaches out for powder, but you punch him square in the jaw before he can so much as touch her, the tray of glasses crashing on the floor.

james’ flirtatious smile is long gone, replaced with the kind of anger only egotistical, self-important jerks have when they don’t get what they want and they’ve taken a blow to their ego.

in fact, he’s angry enough to deliver a punch right back to your face.

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you stumble, but powder manages to catch you before you tumble into the broken glass. she holds you as people start yelling. you think that vander rushes over, too, shouting at james to get the fuck out of his bar and never step foot in it again.

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and everything is all a bit fuzzy. powder tries her best, but you slump your body weight into hers and she almost topples over.

“i’ve got her.” vi’s surprisingly calm voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist to steady you.

somehow, you find yourself in the bathroom, sitting on the counter as vi stands between your legs. she carefully examines your injury, but you notice how she avoids making eye contact.

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while.

“remember teaching me how to throw a punch?” the question slips past your lips before you can stop it.

vi looks slightly amused, and she finally meets your gaze. “‘course i do,” she hums. “you tried to convince me to help you start an all-female fight club at school.”

a smile creeps onto your face, despite the pain from your nose.

she remembers.

somewhere within her, vi holds on to fragments of you.

“thank god the principal vetoed it. would’ve been a disaster,” she continues.

vi wipes the blood off your face, the sleeve of her silk red button-down now stained a darker crimson. “how’s your hand?” she asks.

you flex your fingers. “it’s been better,” you answer, your knuckles slightly aching. “totally worth it.”

vi smiles sadly. “i guess you’ve been the one protecting my sister while i’ve been away.”

while i’ve been away.

the reminder feels like a stab to the heart.

vi’s back home, sure, but only for a limited time.

her fingers graze your cheek, and the breath hitches in your throat.

“you know, i only wanted to start that fight club as an elaborate plan to spend more time together,” you confess, opting to preserve the delicate bubble of nostalgia you’d stumbled into together. “we were each so busy….i had studio, and you were always away at hockey games. it wasn’t realistic in the end, though.”

“i would’ve stayed if you asked,” she tells you, and you wonder exactly what she might be referring to.

you swallow the lump in your throat. “it’s what you loved, though.”

“but i - i loved you, more. you had to have known that.”

“yeah, well. i loved you, too,” you explain, and it’s clear that neither of you are talking about a lesbian fight club. “whether it was hockey, or music….as long your heart was in it, it was more worth it to let you go, to not stand in the way of your dreams.”

“you were my dream.”

you scoff, cheeks heating up, and look away. “you probably say that to all the girls.”

“no.” vi guides your chin towards her. “just the one.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on vi’s— messy, urgent. noses bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. she cradles your face in her hands, and you wrap your legs around her waist to bring her closer. you taste beer on her tongue, and maybe a hint of lime, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. when you run out of air, you pull away. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the adrenaline, but dizzy from her. vi’s gaze is heavy on yours as she traces your top lip with her thumb.

“vi,” you whimper, itching to kiss her again.

“you’re still bleeding.”

vi wipes away the blood with the sleeve of her shirt. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s a knock on the door. vander, wondering if you’re okay and if maybe you could hurry up and get back to work.

you can’t sleep that night. before, staying up on christmas eve was an elaborate operation to catch santa. now, it’s overthinking a very hot kiss and all the unresolved tension between you and your ex-girlfriend next door.

logically, you knew that you missed vi, everything about her and who she is, the way you would laugh and argue and make love. but the rush of feeling her tongue licking into your mouth, her body melding into yours after being apart for so long….

you’re scared that she won’t feel the same, but you’re even more terrified of letting the moment slip through both your fingers without at least trying.

so, you grab your phone, deciding to finally reach out to her, when by some christmas miracle you get a text from her.

she climbs through your window not long after, wearing plaid boxer shorts and a zaun university sweatshirt you’ve been looking for, for about five years. you didn’t bother to change, either, only wearing an oversized shirt. you sit cross-legged on your bed as she waits by the window. vi stares at your chest for a good few seconds, and you remember that you’re wearing one of her band’s concert tees, faded from years of wear.

“so, um,” vi starts, her voice as soft as the well-worn cotton of your shirt. “we have so much shit to talk about and figure out, but, i, uh, can’t stop thinking about early tonight —”

“vi.” the swarm of butterflies in your stomach is replaced by something more delicate, more urgent. “do you wanna come sit?”

vi swallows thickly, looking between you and the still open window. a winter breeze rushes through. you shiver, thinking she might just turn around and disappear into the cold night. instead, she shuts the window, removes her snow-covered boots, and settles onto the bed next to you.

you place a tentative hand on her cheek, still cold and slightly flushed. she shudders when you run your thumb over the tattoo under her eye.

“i know there’s a lot we have to work through.” you take a deep breath as she shifts closer, suddenly dizzy from the familiar scent of her winter pine old-spice body wash. “right now….right now, i just want you.”

“yeah?” vi smirks, her shyness melting away. she settles a warm hand on your bare thigh. “how do you want me?”

you exhale sharply when her hand travels higher, dull nails scraping at the fabric of your underwear.

“it’s cute that you’re flustered,” she quips, leaning in even closer. her breath is warm and heavy against your lips. “because i’ve spent so many night replaying all the dirty, nasty things we used to —”

you tug her sweatshirt and pull her back onto the bed, feeling her body solid against yours. the vibration of her groan shudders through your body when you crash your lips onto hers with such hunger, you’d think you had been starving without her.

“how’s about an encore, superstar?” you drawl.

you bite your lip hard at how vi nods at you desperately, eyes all dark and lustful.

“you read my mind,” she breathes. by now, her hand has reached the hem of your shirt, and she pushes up the cotton to reveal the supple skin of your stomach. you give her permission to remove it, leaving your top half exposed.

her lips nip and suck down your body until she reaches the waistband of your panties. she pulls it up with her teeth, the elastic snapping back when she lets go. you whine her name, and she looks up at you with dark eyes.

“can i?” her breath fans over your navel, her nails digging into your hips as she waits for your answer.

“yes. please.”

you hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but you could feel vi smirk against your inner thigh before sinking her teeth into it. you whimper, and vi salves her tongue over the area to ease the sting before removing your underwear. she positions your legs over her shoulders for better access to where you need her most.

vi moves her tongue and fingers in all the ways she remembers makes you shake, curl your toes, and grind down on her face. in return, you grip her pink hair, tightly, and utter praise in all the ways you remember makes her shake.

“just like that, pretty girl,” you encourage, practically melting into the mattress. it feels so good — dangerously good, intoxicating, even — to be devoured by vi. “keep doing a good job and i’ll return the favor later.”

vi’s moan vibrates throughout your body and she becomes faster, reaches her tongue deeper, bringing you over the edge. she leaves a few more bites on your body on her way up to meet you and when she does, vi’s lips and chin are shining with your release.

you lean forward slightly to lick it up. you ghost your mouth over hers.

“your turn,” you taunt and run your thumb over her tattooed cheek.

you twist your calf around vi’s leg and flip your positions. she lets out a yelp when her back hits the mattress. once you’re hovering over her, legs and arms on either side of her body, you do what you’re sure you’d never get tired of doing: you kiss her, passionately, deeply. you bite her lip as you pull away.

there was always a bit of jealousy that gnawed at you, became your very-own shoulder devil that you just couldn’t shake when you were together, no matter how hard you tried. it was no secret that vi was admired by many, that girls around the world were crushing on her, hoping they’d catch her eye, get their chance with her. you never felt like she was yours, and yours alone.

but you do get a deep satisfaction knowing that right here, right now, you’re the only person who gets to see her like this — pink hair splayed across the pillows like her very own halo, but the rest of her telling a much less-angelic, much more sinister story: her lips swollen and kiss-bitten, her cheeks a devilish shade of red, her eyes dark and lustful and waiting for you to make the next move.

"you want me to have my way with you?" you whisper, voice honeyed with desire.

vi whimpers, a sound that fuels the fire in your abdomen. "yes."

you practically rip off her sweatshirt, kiss down her jaw, her neck, her exposed chest and sternum down to her stomach. vi lifts her hips from the bed so that you can remove her boxers, and you’re delighted to find nothing else underneath.

you’re greeted by her glistening pussy. blowing onto her folds, you run your tongue from her hole to her clit, loving how you already feel her slick coating your lips. vi spread her legs even wider, and you take the opportunity to sink two fingers into her cunt. you know her body, as well as you know your own, as well as she knows yours. you flick your gaze up, view slightly blocked by the pink curls of her bush, but you can still picture it — how her eyes roll back, how her mouth opens to release a perfectly delicious gasp.

"god, i've barely touched you and you're already about to cum. did you miss me that much?" you tease, feeling her clench around your fingers. as if you aren’t subtly rutting your hips against the mattress, eager to ease the throbbing between your legs.

all you get in response is whine. it’s muffled, and you crane your neck upward to see her biting down on her knuckles, so hard you’re worried she might break skin.

unacceptable.

the rest of the world gets to hear her every day, any time they please. you want to be serenaded by the lyrics of her want, the notes of her desire. all for you and you alone.

with your other hand, you reach up to pinch one of her pierced nipples, always so sensitive. "answer me, violet."

vi props herself up on her elbows to look at you, just as you remove your mouth from her.

"yes!" she sings, practically sobbing. you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel the throbbing between your thighs intensify, hearing the frantic lilt of her voice — like she needs you and only you. "i missed you so fucking much. please, just do something."

at her request, you move up the bed so that the two of you are face to face, one of your hands holding her chin while the other is two fingers deep in her cunt. you add another, just to reveal in the timber of her sultry moan. she tries to bring her hand back, to quiet herself, but you shake your head.

with your thumb, you trace over her lips, uneven and scarred and imperfectly beautiful. "open."

vi obeys you instantly. you spit in her mouth, heart racing as you watch her swallow the combination of your saliva and her cum without question.

you continue fucking her with your fingers until she moans, louder and louder as she reaches her peak.

removing your fingers from her pussy, you lock eyes with her as you bring your syrupy fingers to your mouth and suck off her juices. then, you kiss underneath her ear, lips sticking slightly to her skin, and you whisper: "now i know why they say you have the voice of an angel.”

“fuck,” she exhales, the breath turning into a chuckle as you kiss underneath her chin, where you know she’s ticklish.

"one more time for me, okay, pretty girl? i want to feel you against me," you whisper. "i want to watch you fall apart, knowing that i'm the one who makes you feel this good."

vi nods, allowing you to adjust your positions so that your cunts are touching. you start fucking her down into the mattress and she sits up slightly so that your nipples brush against each other, the cold metal of her piercings encouraging the roll of your hips, her nails digging into the curve of your ass to bring you impossibly closer.

“i missed you too. so fucking much,” you finally admit. you flick one of the silver rings before leaning down and wrapping your lips around her nipple.

“i missed these, too,” you add as you release her nipple with a pop, and vi moans. you’re grinning from ear to ear because, holy shit, vi is here and you’re together and you’re both happy, if only at the ecstasy of your silken cunts gliding against each other, at the taste of the other slicking your tongues, as thick as nectar and twice as sweet.

she laughs — love and magic and everlasting bliss — and you have to capture her lips now if you want to swallow the sound. you feel it bounce through your ribcage, awaken something deep within you that you feared was lost to time.

vi thrusts her hips upwards, presses harder against the seam of your cunt until you’re gushing against each other, not quite sure who’s making what mess.

strings of cum connect you as you remove your body from hers. for a few seconds, you both lay on your backs, staring up at the ceiling and trying to catch your breath. vi drapes an arm over her eyes, chest heaving.

you throw on some clothes and leave the room, hoping that vi’s still there when you get back.

….

vi worries that if she opens her eyes, she’ll wake up from this dream.

she’ll be in some uncomfortable bed in london or tokyo or los angeles. the dull ache between her legs would be thanks to some girl who’d be eager to text all her friends and spill all the details about what vi likes in bed, or caitlyn who would tell vi to shave next time, darling, or i won’t let you fuck me again anytime soon.

instead, vi hears the creak of a door opening, feet tiptoeing along the floorboards. the mattress shifts with the weight of someone between her legs, though their body is not touching hers.

“vi, baby,” a gentle coaxing, a familiar voice, pulling towards something she forgot she needed. her heart soars when she finds you kneeling on the bed, holding a damp towel in one hand and a glass of water in another.

“yeah?” her voice is hoarse, but her throat doesn’t sting in the same way it does after a concert. it feels tender, well-used, well-loved.

you hold out the cup of water, watch vi eagerly gulp down half of it before she realizes what she’s done.

“shit, i — did you want some?”

you smile and shake your head. “i had some downstairs after my shower.” it’s then that vi registers the water dripping from the ends of your hair, soaking the fabric of her (fine, your) sweatshirt. “i’m gonna clean you up. is that okay?”

vi nods.

okay? okay? vi thinks she might have whiplash.

it’s been a while since someone has fucked her so well she’d be satisfied for years and then touched her so tenderly afterwards. you run the damp cloth over vi’s sticky, sweaty skin, occasionally leaning down to press soft lips where you’d left teeth marks and bruises before.

“there.” you throw the cloth on the floor. “so, um. do you wanna stay….?”

you bite your lip as you wait for vi to answer. you start picking at your nail polish, too. vi sits up and grabs your hand.

“i do,” she soothes. “do you want me to?”

your smile brightens the entire room and you kiss vi before muttering:

“i do.”

vi slips on her boxers as you settle into the bed next to her, leaving her top half bare. she notices the sketchbook on your bedside table, and she lifts it up at you, a silent question if she can flip through. you take it from her as you shift to sit between her legs, her chest warm against your back. the room’s only illuminated by the string of multicolored christmas lights you’d left on, but vi can see the talent, the passion behind your work as you walk her through your sketchbook. you tell her about the techniques you’ve been working on and new mediums you want to explore, about how you want to make the kind of art that makes people appreciate the beauty in the everyday.

“i always loved your art,” she muses. vi cranes her neck slightly, places a kiss on your shoulder then one on your cheek. “the world would be more beautiful if you shared it.”

you hum and place the sketchbook on your bedside table. you each shift to your sides, facing each other; vi notches a leg around your hips, and you throw an arm around her waist, fingers trailing down her tattooed back.

“ekko talked to you, huh?”

“i would have said that even if he hadn’t,” vi promises. “so….have you heard anything yet?”

“well….yeah,” you sigh, smiling shyly. “i got in, actually.”

“really? that’s amazing, baby.” she beams at you, excitedly cupping your face in her hands, leaving small kisses across your cheeks until you’re giggling.

“okay, okay,” you laugh. “i don’t know if i’m gonna go yet.”

vi hums knowingly. she presses her forehead against yours.

“i know you’re scared, baby,” she says softly. “but sometimes it’s just a leap of faith.”

“i know.” you pause, gnawing at your bottom lip while your eyes fixate on the scar on her upper lip. “can i ask you something?

“anything.”

“when you proposed to me….” her body tenses up, but you brush your hand over her bicep and the tension in her muscles dissipates. “was that a leap of faith? like, were you scared?”

“well, not at first.” she takes a shuddery breath, her voice suddenly small. “i always thought that we’d be together….i just didn’t think through how we’d make it work, i guess. i didn’t mean to mess things up, though.”

“hey.” vi leans into the hand you cup around her cheek. “we both messed up. we never actually talked, you know? but….i’m glad we are, now.” you swallow. “i still love you, vi.”

vi exhales. “you know, girls tell me that they love me pretty much every day.”

you can’t help it — you roll your eyes, and vi laughs. because, truthfully, her heart has felt more full at your admission of love just now than it ever has for an area of screaming fans.

“there’s a point to this, i promise,” she says, nudging her nose against yours. “i used to get such a thrill from it….but then i think about what you said earlier. my heart — it’s just not in it anymore. all the band is now is drama and gossip and compromises of fame over art, and…. i don’t know. it’s not really what i want anymore. i want to be with you. for real, this time.”

you blink at her; she can feel your chest pulsing against hers like a hummingbird.

“would you, um, if i were to take that leap of faith and do that artist residency, would you —”

“anywhere you wanna go,” vi promises. she thinks about it a bit more….how nice it’s been to be home for the holidays, how nice it would be to come home year round. “preferably close enough so we can have dinner at home on the weekends.”

“sounds like a plan,” you smile.

the two of you twist closer underneath the flannel sheets, sink into the mattress, and gaze up at the faded glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to your ceiling until you fall asleep in each other’s arms.

you jolt awake a few hours later, several firm knocks on the door and ekko shouting:

“it’s christmas! get the fuck up before ziggy eats all the bacon!”

beside you, vi protects you from the frosty winter morning. her body radiates warmth, and her eyes flutter open, ever so slightly, as you gently shake her shoulder.

she groans, turning on her back, rubbing sleep from her eye.

“i better go.”

“....yeah.”

you flush when you glance over as vi’s slipping on her sweatshirt, rose-petal bruises delicate across her skin. she opens the window, hair still mussed up, and a gust of frigid air rushes into the room.

the image is so familiar: vi, one leg in your room and another out the window. you feel like a teenager again, scrambling to get dressed and avoid anyone hearing that you’d snuck your girlfriend into your room late at night. but there’s something else now, too — you imagine this becoming routine: waking up next to each other every day, swapping clothes, kissing over coffee and pancakes at breakfast. a place where the two of you might create some new memories, build a shared life together. and much more, so much more that feels like it could be your reality, sooner rather than later.

you’re so deep in thought that you don’t notice vi rushing back towards you. she kisses you and kisses you, until your lungs are burning.

"merry christmas, baby,” she mumbles against your lips.

you grin back at her. “merry christmas, vi.”

....

hi baby, i know you’re at studio right now, but i forgot to ask you this morning: how do you feel about sending out holiday cards this year? i know they’re kind of cheesy, but it seems like the type of thing married couples might do…..

anyways, we’ll talk about it when you get home. i’m test-driving this new recipe for brussel sprouts to bring to dinner at my dad’s.

i’ll see you later. love you!

2K notes · View notes

lqfiles · 9 months ago

Text

PAY THE PRICE — smau

after getting evicted out of your old place, you're left with no other choice but to look for a cheaper alternative. which is how you end up becoming neighbours with lee haechan, who has a passion for music and disturbing whatever peace and quiet there is.

or in which you found yourself a very nice apartment, the only issue? your neighbour is your friend's somewhat ex-situationship who won't stop playing his guitar at 2 am in the night.

neighbour!haechan x fem!reader

genre ; enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, probably slow burn, humour, neighbours au.

extras ; haechan is kinda an asshole | boy next door + likes everyone but you trope-ish | profanity and death jokes because they’re silly! | probably romantic tension | some mark x reader here and there | renjun and jaemin having their own e2bffs moment | probably inaccurate depiction of how someone would get evicted pls don’t shoot me 😅

notes ; i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan <333 idk i got nothing better to do now so i’ll just start this because i know i won’t be posting any of the other long fic wips any time soon 😭

PLAYLIST ; She , Tyler The Creator — For The Night , Chloe Bailey — IDK WHAT TO TELL YOU , Bktherula — Surprise , Chloe Bailey — I Wanna Be down , Brandy — Suite Life , FLO — Is It A Crime? , No Guidnce — Round&Round , NCT U .

STATUS ; ongoing and hopefully regular updates.

profiles (1) profiles (2)

intro

1 ) jaehyun’s trophy wife

2 ) free cookies (not really)

3 ) midnight disturbance

4 ) attempted murder?

5 ) THIS IS FAMILY

6 ) haechan’s second identity

7 ) kiss buddies and useless complaints

8 ) critically acclaimed idgaf veteran

9 ) founders keepers..?

10 ) yangyang’s new interest (y/n)

11 ) a late welcome party

12 ) invest in a cage jaemin

13 ) cat fight (REAL)

14 ) the cure to a lack of sleep = cup pong

15 ) who said quiet guys can’t be freaky?

16 ) you got a girlfriend?

17 ) i DO have a girlfriend

18 ) this is life, i love life..

19 ) nah. they fucking.

20 ) let’s play apex?

21 ) whole house mad

22 ) drunken regrets

23 ) he’s got to be fucking with me..

24 ) a sincere apology letter (kinda)

25 ) are we cool or not?

26 ) we’re good (for real)

27 ) a personal guitar lesson

28 ) LIVE TWEETING YNHAE MOMENTS

29 ) a moment of vulnerability

30 ) friendly q&a between friends

31 ) that’s strange.. that’s weird..

32 ) solution to job loss = family guy (???)

33 ) what has jaehyun done for society?

34 ) ynhae bonding activity hours

35 ) an unwanted double date with yangyang

36 ) an overwhelming realisation

37 ) the universe can kill itself

38 ) a “what are we” conversation

39 ) i got that hair too, kinda

40 ) reviewing haechan’s tweet and new issues

41 ) diagnosed with the crush disease

42 ) putting your satisfaction first

43 ) some girl talk with mark.. this diva..

44 ) girls day gone WRONG

45 ) homies before hoemies

46 ) #BringBackGenderNorms2024

47 ) no one but us

48 ) the words of the DEVIL

49 ) remove the fake from life

50 ) y/n and jaemin would’ve loved this

51 ) you’re a queen and he’s just.. there

52 ) we are sooooo fixing this

53 ) spiritual connection attempts

TBA . . .

BONUS:

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liver-f4ilure · 3 months ago

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The Irkutsk Molotochniki: AKA The Academy Maniacs (BIG info post)

NOTE: Haiii!! Sorry I haven’t been posting, I got a life! I’ve been writing this since AUGUST! But took a 3 month break. I kinda rushed the trial but everything else comes from Russian articles! <3

Early Life

Artyom Alexandrovich Anoufriev

RUSSIAN: Артём Александрович Ануфриев

Born October 4th, 1992, in Irkutsk Russia to mother Nina Ivanovna Anoufrieva and no father had been described positively by classmates despite being an outcast and his hard home life. Including a family friend who had known him ‘from the cradle’ who characterized Artyom as “Artyom is a good-natured boy, polite, I’ve never heard a bad word from him,”. According to his headmaster his mother had taught time to hate people and give given bad grades, would try coerce the teacher into psychologically pressuring her son. Artyom had good grades especially in English and literature, he had also shown interest in music and took lessons for the guitar and double bass. He had also joined, sang and played in a local music group before the groups organizer left.

Artyom as a kid

During his older years Artyom started to mature and became more out going while his grades deteriorated. He shortly graduated high school with sufficiency. In his senior year his class filmed a farewell video, in which everyone gave their opinion on what happiness meant to them. In the video Artyom answer was: "To be honest, I do not know what happiness is. But I would really like to quickly find out what it is.".

After graduation Artyom went onto Irkutsk State Medical University while working at an art museum.

Three months before his arrest Artyoms neighbours reported hearing yelling and banging on the walls, like he was hitting the wall with his fists or running at it full speed. Artyom would yell “I hate everybody” and “I will kill you”. During the investigation Artyom would admit that at times his relationship with his mother was strained, and that he’d fear he wouldn’t be able to prevent himself from killing her. According to Artyoms lawyer, Svetlana Kokareva, he often talked negatively about his mother and called her ‘defective’ as well as a generally negative attitude towards women. Nikita also reportedly experienced similar: his depression worsened, he stopped communication with family and he started experiencing insomnia.

Nikita Vakhtangovich Lytkin

RUSSIAN: Никита Вахтангович Лыткин

Born March 24th, 1993, in Irkutsk Russia to his mother Marina, who worked at a shoe store and to a father who left the family shortly after Nikita was born. His father than married another woman who died shortly after and whose son committed suicide in the wake of his mothers death. Nikita’s father would return but leave after due to his depression from his deceased ex wife. During Nikita’s childhood he would come and go. Many accounts say Nikita was bullied at school and instead of standing up for himself he would just reply with “die.” Because of this, Nikita was given the nickname ‘Jimbo’ as a reference to Jimbo Jones, a bully from ‘the simpsons’.

Nikita as a kid

During junior high Nikita would do very well at studying and had good marks, he did not like math very much and in 5th grade was assigned to a special math class do to poor test results. Besides his good grades, Nikita was unsociable and uncommunicative. One family friend says this is because Nikita was jealous of his classmates with richer families. Because of his poor socialization Nikita started losing relations to friends.

Nikita’s childhood home

Meeting

At a mutual friends birthday party Nikita (10) and Artyom (11) met, with the two studying at the same school but one studying a grade higher. The two quickly grew close and Nikita fell into a deep depression, only trusting Artyom at the time, the two supported each other. Artyoms mother did not support the twos friendship and stated that she thought Nikita would have a bad influence on her son. However, after graduating Artyom would continue to study and even enroll into medical school unlike Artyom, Nikita did not. In several reports Nikita either dropped out of school or got expelled for insufficient grades.

During their friendship the started a punk-rock band called ‘Злые гномы’ the band didn’t last long but in 2008 the band was able to put out an album called ‘Чёрные полосы крови’ (AKA. Black Streaks Of Blood) the pair soon started another band, a noise band, named ‘Расчленённая ПугачОва’ or ‘Dissected PugachOva’.

Violent Interests

The duo both had a common interest of maniacs and murderers. The most relevant being the Irkutsk ‘Blood Money Gang’ in March of 2010. The gang being led by 22-year-old Konstantin Shumkov. Shumkov though he was expelled from his educational institution, wanted to work with children. He gathered a group of teenagers from dysfunctional families to kill 5 homeless people and attack 3 others in 2009. The pair followed the news very closely and even dedicated an album to the gang with songs like “Killing is cool!”, “Massacre at a maternity hospital” and “I killed a homeless man”. Nikita also reportedly made a social media group out of sympathy for the gangs leader named ‘Irkutsk Anti Bom-Gang: Blood Magic’ in the introduction fornthe group the group declares their hopes to continue Shumkovs work.

“The "Dismembered PugachOva" group will continue the work of the "Blood Magic" not only in the musical sense, but also in the real sense. [...] There is no place for posers in our group. Only those who decide the fate of cattle or are only going to start serious actions are allowed. If you are determined, you are here.”

As well, they would most videos of the murders in the groups and told the members to ‘abandon empty posturing and commit at least one murder’

You may wonder how people didn’t think of that as a red flag, well, many visitors thought that the videos they posted were staged and that they were ‘young liars and braggots’.

The two made other social media groups such as "We are gods", "Pichushkin - our president" a reference to a fellow Russian serial killer and "Dissected Pugachova"in reference to their band by the same name. However I could not find what exactly they posted.

Possible Motives

There are a few theories on what the duos motives were, one theory is that they were pushed by Nationalist propaganda. Since for a while Artyom was apart of a white power skinhead group and given the nickname “Fashik- Natsik”. From Artyoms suggestion Nikita would converse online with the skinheads but was ultimately denied part in the group due to his discrediting Ossetian patronymic Vakhtangovich (Iranian-Caucasian decent). Their affiliation with the skinheads didn’t last, as one investigator states ‘they immediately sensed their animal cruelty and rejected them’ another report stated that Artyom felt the groups ideology was ‘too passive and soft’. The then leader of the skinheads ‘Boomer’ stated later in court that ‘Anoufriev felt hatred towards everyone, and did not care whom he killed’. After being arrested in the pre-trial detention room Anoufriev made a message that stated:

"I want to apologize to everyone. My advice to parents: forbid your children to visit sites of nationalistic nature in social networks,"

However, the duo isn’t thought to be hate oriented since they didn’t have any nationality in mind. Nor did they care about homeless people or immigrants. Anoufriev and Lytkin simply hated all of humanity all together and even openly stated it. A motive that both Anoufriev and Lytkin confirm is their desire to imitate other serial killers.

According to Anoufriev the idea of murder was Lytkins.and claimed that it, unlike Lytkin, did not give him the satisfaction he had hoped for. He says he only did it “he put it where it wasn’t necessary” and described Lytkin with "I will just say—he is a leader. He did not influence, but was an instigator of crimes,". However, during the investigation Anoufriev stated that he was planning on moving to St.Petersburg and commit more crimes had he not been arrested. Investigator, Yevgeny Karchevsky reports that Lytkin admitted that he couldn’t have done it alone and stated that “it wasn’t interesting to one” and “Artyom and I did it- I liked it”. Lytkin also stated, like Anoufriev, that he would’ve kept killing had he not been caught.

The two stated they would walk from 6pm - 10pm around the “State University” transport stop in Akademgorodok. They would miss 5-20 people while looking for a suitable victim.

Timeline of Crimes

November 14, 2010 - Anoufriev and Lytkin attacked an 18-year-old Anastasia Markovskaya while she was walking from the 19th school bus stop in the way of the Novo-Irkutsky Village. The two tried bashing her head in to which they were in some reports, scared off, while in others she played dead. Markovskaya reported on the Akademgorodok online forum about the attacked. Where Anoufriev and Lytkin responded and asked her how it felt to be beaten.

November 24, 2010 - the pair attacks an unnamed 46-year-old woman, stealing her bag.

December 1, 2010 - the pair attacks a woman, stealing 500 rubles which they used to buy mallets. Later the same day the pair spotted a 12-year-old Danil Semyonov going down a snowy hill on his sled. Nikita initiated a the idea of killing Semyonov to Artyom since he was a weak victim who couldn’t put up a strong Defense. After catching Semyonov Nikita struck him in the back of the head, knocking him down. Artyom then hit him with a baseball bat, Nikita then stabbed Semyonov in the temple with a penknife. Later when Danils mother and bother had found him and had paramedics called to the scene. However, after being caught in a traffic jam, Semyonov was dead before arrival. On Semyonov’s arm was found a hematoma (also known as, a bruise) curating the idea he either fought back or was grabbed roughly. The next day his sled was found in good condition. Semyonovs parents and police didn’t think it was a homicide and instead an accident, that he simply hit a birch tree at high speeds. However later Anoufriev and Lytkin stated that the boy was simply ‘training’ for them. He was the first victim killed.

December 16, 2010 - nearly 20m from the spot Semyonov was killed, a 69-year-old Olga Mikhailovna was found. Olga had been a researcher at the Research Institute for solar and terrestrial physics. The pair killed her quickly unlike Semyonov. She was found with 30 knife wounds. Nikita and Artyom had also made an audio recording discussing how they’d kill her, after which they recorded the murder.

December 29, 2010 - The pair first attacked 29-year-old Valentinovna Svetlova at 6am, who escaped. The pair only took her purse which they then threw out. She miraculously survived her attack. An hour after her attack 22 year-old coach Yekaterina Karpova, Karpova was pregnant during her attack while walking home with her 6-year-old niece Olga Averina. While walking to the railroad Karpova reported that she saw the pair but didn’t engage. While crossing the railroad the two were attacked by Nikita and Artyom, Averina managed to escape with being hit by Nikita in the sides, later being diagnosed with extensive hematoma in the liver area. Karpova had, had her skull crushed in and fingers snapped despite screaming that she was pregnant. The killers were scared off by a car pulling out from around the corner. In result to this, Karpova and her pregnancy miraculously survived.

January 1, 2011 - Around 5am Artyom and Nikita attacked a homeless man who lived near some garbage cans, inflicting 40 hit to him as well as smashing his head in with mallets. He died later in hospital and has been deemed ‘Corpse No.20’ since authorities couldn’t identify the man.

On January 15th a 19-year-old homeless man named Vladimir Bazilevsky, who had bloodied clothes was detained on suspicion of the previous murder. During the interview he told officials that he had spent the night in a sewer well however, officials began to make him believe otherwise and how Bazilevsky put it “Knocked a murder confession” out of him. After more investigation he was wrongfully convicted of murder and in April of 2011 was sentenced to 4 years. After the actual killers were arrested, DNA of the blood on his clothes didn’t match any of the victims. In May of 2012 after serving over a year and a half of prison time, Bazilevsky was released and all charges against him were dropped.

January 30, 2011 - The pair attacked a student named Oleg Semyonov who was returning home from a night club. He survived with head wounds, a concussion and traumatic brain injury.

February 3, 2011 - The pair attacks an unidentified elderly woman whom survived with a head injury.

February 8-9 date unknown, 2011 - At night the pair attacks another woman whom survived due to a passing by car.

February 21, 2011 - While walking home drunk from visiting his sister Alexander Petrovich Maximov was attacked and killed. His jaw and head had been completely broken, as well he had been decapitated with remainders of his skull being found afterwards. Lytkin shot him in the head with a Baikal air pistol and Anoufriev had tried to remove his eyes, but ultimately failed lacking the proper knowledge. Maximov had a closed casket funeral, unable to have an open casket.

February 27, 2011 - Lytkin single-handedly attacked a woman by the name of Nina Kuzmina whom was sitting on a bench located on Lermontov St. Lytkin hit her twice in the head, but because of Kuzmina making a ‘fuss’ a nearby man looking out his window scared Lytkin off, taking the woman’s phone with him. Kuzmina survived.

March 11 , 2011 - On a walkway near the State university bus stop, Anoufriev and Lytkin killed a homeless man by the name of Roman Faizullin. Anoufriev shot him in the face before the pair dragged him behind some bushes and off the street. The pair stabbed Faizullin in the head, chest and groin. Lytkin had attempted to cut the mans hand off but only managed his pinky finger. Later Anoufriev photographed the corpse from his apartment window since it was near.

After this attack a rally was held in the area to discuss what precautions and measures should be put in place. Anoufriev and Lytkin would go to these rallies and meetings, they would share ideas about the killers and would video tape the meetings. By this time police had already figured out that the killer was between ages 16-18 and set up patrol cars that would tour the area to reduce other attacks (which didn’t work). Still in the area there was misinformation which lead to the citizens fearing that the killer was a guy in his 30s.

The pair then gained the name the “Academy Maniacs” via a journalist for the Komsomolskaya Pravda, Olga Lipchinskaya since nobody could identify the boys.

??, 2011 - On an unknown date the pair attacked a homeless woman whom survived the attack due to an off duty police officer seeing the pair from out his window.

??, 2011 - on another unknown date the pair attacked a woman using a screwdriver. Since the place was crowded the pair left and the woman survived.

April 3, 2011 - The last of the pairs crimes. The two killed a 63-year-old homeless woman named Alevtina Kuydina. The woman was killed near a research institute, after killing her the pair filmed a video. On the video, filmed by Anoufriev, Lytkin can be seen cutting the woman’s earlobe off with a knife after being scolded by Anoufriev for not covering the knife in case of finger prints. Lytkin then tried to cut the woman’s hand off and gouge her eyes. When he couldn’t, he instead struck a knife directly into her eye and started stabbing. Later they dropped the woman’s earlobe off at the porch of a school. Anoufriev send the video to an online friend from St.Petersburg named Ilya Ustinov or known as online “Solomon Gojo” who said the video was sluggish he still however, distributed the video online.

Investigation/ Arrests

Investigators and police didn’t suspect the attacks to be from the same people, since the victims had no relation or anything alike. The investigation lasted months while the town was left in fear. But because of the crime spanning in such a small area the police were able to piece together a sketch of the suspects. The portraits were even sent to the workplace of Lytkins grandmother, the institute of organic chemistry, she noticed how the portrait looked eerily similar to her grandson. She sent her son Vladislav, Lytkins uncle, to his house to question Nikita. Once he got there nobody was home, Nikita having gone out for a walk (but suspected victim hunting). Nikita’s uncle however, found the camera he had lended him, on the camera he saw the video that the pair had filmed prior. After discussing, the family handed the video over to police and soon Lytkin was arrested, Anoufriev following shortly after. Prior to the arrest Lytkins mother had found a knife packaged in the hallway or in other sources, his pocket. When asked about the knife he simply stated it was for Defense.

A little piece of Trial

On March 6 of 2013 Lytkin stated that Anoufriev didn’t participate in four of the attacks and instead someone else accompanied him, Lytkin did give names but they were never publicly disposed. Lytkin also stated he had other accomplices however it’s theorized that he made this up to slow down the investigation. One day at the detention centre Lytkin told his mother "Why do they make the devil out of Artyom and I am so white and fluffy? We are both to blame. He is no worse and no better than me, we committed murders together." Anoufriev states that the police pressed Lytkin using threat of solitary. Lytkins grandmother also published an open letter claiming that she blamed Television, democracy, the internet, satanists and pornography for Lytkins corruption.

During the trial each boy had taken a different defence, Lytkin took leniency on him being a minor at the time of the crime and Anoufriev cause he had only pleaded guilty to 1 count of murder.

Sentencing, Transfers & Where they are now

Artyom:

On April 2nd 2013, Irkutsk Regional Court sentenced Anoufriev to life imprisonment in a special regime colony. On January 27th, 2014, Anoufriev was transferred to Ognenny Ostrov in the Vologda Oblast. After transferring, Anoufriev stated in interviews that he did not agree with the sentence and that his family was trying to get him out on parole, as well, he also stated that he was working on a book but did not explain what it was about. And in Febuary of 2017 Anoufriev stated that he had been studying Law at The University of Latvia.

Artyom during the trial in the defendant cage

Nikita:

Also on April 2nd, 2013,Lytkin was sentenced to 24 years imprisonment with 5 of those to be soent in prison. Around October,2013, Lytkins sentenced was reduced to 20 years seeing as he was a minor during the events. Lytkin had made many transfers to prisons including:

Nikita during the trial in the defendants cage

December, 2013- transferred from Irkutsk Colony to Sakha Republic

??, 2015- transferred to Kemerovo Correctional Colony No.41, where a psychologist had discovered he was dealing with a mental disorder

August, 2016- The prison attempted to transfer Lytkin to a psychiatric hospital however, the day before he attacked an inmate ,hoping that he would be transferred to the same colony as Anoufriev, instead on June

1st, 2017, the court ruled he was a dangerous repeat offender and sentenced to 11 years.

??, 2018- Lytkin was transferred to Angarsk Correctional Colony No.7

On the morning of November 28th, 2021, Lytkin was found in his cell with severe self inflicted wounds on his arms. Paramedics rushed him to Angarsk City Hospital, where on November 30th he was pronounced dead. Lytkins inmates stated that he had been subjected to bullying and others state he had threatened to do it when his sentence wasn’t reduced furthermore and when he wasn’t transferred to the same facility as Anoufriev.

#liveralone #tccblr #tc community #tcc columbine #true cringe community #tcc tumblr #eric columbine #recipes by vivi #eric and dylan #dylan columbine #artyom anoufriev #nikita lytkin #nikita and artyom #academy maniacs #the academy maniacs #irkutsk molotochniki #info post

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millersfinest · 28 days ago

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untethered | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 7.4k

series: chapter one (you’re here!), chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner—a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: lmao flip phones, some vulgar language, ellie cheating on her gf (kind of), the millers, r is a writer, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, some physical violence, adopted kid trauma (shoutout to all the adopted kids!!), hella angst, repressed emotions, a little bit of mature content, eventual smut.

note: i have too much confidence writing for ellie. but here’s another series im starting because i realized the plot is too much for a single work on here, hence the 7 thousand words ijbol. hope you guys enjoyyy.

It was quieter upstate. Breathable and airy—you missed it more than anything. As much as you loved living in Manhattan, there was nothing like the countryside. Waking up to the sound of birds chirping and roosters crowing. Hearing the excited neighing from the horses you birthed and took care of. It was refreshing to be home again.

And, of course, you missed your parents.

They adopted you as a troubled child, and you’ve considered yourself lucky ever since. Babies and younger children were often the ones to be pulled from inconsistent foster homes, but they chose you. A pierced, attitude-ridden, thirteen-year-old who liked smoking cigarettes because they made you look cooler than you felt. And it helped you cope with the lasting effects of neglectful parents.

That trauma didn’t just disappear once Tommy and Maria entered your life. It was something that grew from nothing, and they were adamant in making your transition as comfortable as possible. You never experienced anything like it before them. Their strictness and structure did the opposite of what most would think. You went from sneaking out and smoking cigarettes to staying up late studying and finishing your favorite novels—still smoking cigarettes, though, but out your window. It was hard habit to break.

Once you realized that they could be trusted and had your best interest at heart, you gave them the right to parent you. Sure, it wasn’t easy. The three of you argued many, many times—but you respected them more than you have anyone else. Really, just for tolerating you.

The Miller’s were always very family oriented and social. Sunday nights always managed to be a grand event—Tommy grilling in the acred backyard, Maria handling the food items that could be cooked inside, and you diligently decorating and setting the table. Football Sundays were always the worst, but they were great memories to think about. That was the first time you met, basically, the love of your life at the time. Ellie Williams.

It was 1995 when you had completely fallen in love with her—only knowing her for around three years. Joel Miller wasn’t really her father, or adoptive father, he was just somebody who took care of her. He owned a guitar shop that sold, obviously, guitars and other instruments alike; as well as holding lessons for those wanted to learn how to play.

The story goes: Joel was working the register on a very slow day when Ellie showed up. There was a shiner on her eye, but she insisted that she was fine—asking for lessons with crumbled cash and dirty coins. She couldn’t afford the lessons on her own, so he gave her a job and proceeded with teaching her how to play.

She grew up similar to you; hidden under the confines of foster care. The only difference was, she was never adopted. At least not until the age of seventeen, when she’d spent so much time with Joel that she had a decorated bedroom in his house. They both had commitment issues, but after Tommy convinced him to do the paperwork… He did. Surprising her on her seventeenth birthday. However, the outcome didn’t really go to plan. Not how anyone would have expected it.

It was 1997 when she completely broke your heart… Not to be cheesy or anything.

Her seventeenth birthday was hosted at your house, on the farm. You knew her the most out of everyone, so you made it your mission to make this the best birthday ever. Decorating had become a hobby of yours after so many Sunday dinners—you spent all day stringing up lights and colorful streamers. Maria helping you out with a homemade cake that said: Happy Birthday Els! You were too anxious to write the words yourself, so you let her do it instead. You were even sure to invite the friends you shared; demanding they each brought presents to show how much they cared about her.

Joel had showed up before she did; just in time so they could all hide and jump out with big smiles on your faces when Ellie arrived. You would always remember the feeling of hearing the rumbling of her truck coming to a stop. And the shy smile on her face when everyone jumped out from behind furniture—blowing birthday kazoo’s. It was picturesque!

Dina had trotted over to her, snapping a blue paper cone birthday hat over her head. While you walked over with her birthday cake in your hands, brightened with seventeen candles. “Happy seventeenth, Ellie.” You had spoken, warmly. A bashful grin spreading onto your lips. She looked at you with such awe in that moment. Blowing out her candles and kissing your cheek, muttering a blushing ‘I fuckin’ love you’.

You knew about her surprise adoption papers before the party had started, excitement running through your veins when Joel meandered toward her—handing her an envelope of hope. Ellie took it, eyeing him, skeptically. “Open it!” You urged—that was your mistake.

Chortling, she broke open the envelope, not caring if it tore. When she pulled out the certificate, reading the words on the page, her entire face dropped. “Adoption papers?” Her eyes squinted in disgust, glaring at Joel. The smile fell from your face, lips parting in slight shock. Her olive eyes glanced around the room, seeing the fallen expressions clouding everyone’s features. Landing on your fallen face, briefly—a look exclaiming, ‘how could you’. Freckled cheeks heating up in embarrassment and… Anger. “Joel, what the fuck?” She blinked at him, shoving the papers into his chest, then storming out of the house. Hands ripping the hat from the top of head, throwing it to the ground. The screen door creaking obnoxiously as she exited. It all happened so fast.

He quickly followed her out, calling for her, desperately.

Awkwardly, you turned to the frozen people around you. “Anybody want cake? It’s german c— chocolate.” You stammered, trying to keep your composure. Looking to Maria and Tommy for some sort of consolation, you frowned, placing the cake on the counter before fleeing to the bathroom.

You clenched at the roots of your hair, pacing around the bathroom. You could hear remnants of a solo screaming match from outside the bathroom window, causing you to grit your teeth. The papers were supposed to be a good thing! Ellie had always been a hothead—easily agitated like a stray kitten is distress. There were even moments where the two of you went at it. Until one of you caved, begging for affection as an apology. Your nerves burned at the idea of her not liking the surprise—was that selfish?

Instead of remaining in the bathroom, you swung open the door with your eyes fixed on the front door. Hands clenched at your sides, you walked through the kitchen, where Tommy tried to liven up the mood by handing out pieces of cake.

He tried calling your name, but you brushed him off, pushing open the screen door with an attitude that could be felt with every step you took. The brisk autumn air hit your exposed skin, the long-sleeve striped shirt not doing much to keep you warm.

Striding around the side of the house, you seen Joel and Ellie having a stern conversation. But by the time your eyes landed on them, they were in a beat of silence. Joel shaking his head with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Ellie had her arms stubbornly crossed, frowning. When her eyes found yours, he turned around to leave. “She’s all yours…” He solemnly sighed, walking back into the house. The adoption papers crumbled up in his hands.

Biting your bottom lip, you approached her with your arms crossed for warmth. “What happened, Ellie?” Your voice dragged, tiredly. There was something always wrong with her. “We just wanted to do something nice for you… Why’d you have to go and ruin it—?”

“Oh, I’m the one who ruined it?” She scoffed, a sneer resting on her lips. “I’m not the one who brought the fucking adoption papers!” Ellie exclaimed, gesturing broadly with her hands. When she was up in arms, she always gesticulated more. “Did you have anything to do with this? Because if you did—“

You interrupted her with scrutinizing glare. “So, what if I did? I thought this would make you happy, Ellie… Don’t you understand?”

“You had me open that in front of everyone knowing what was inside— and you thought that’d make me happy?” Her lips arched in disgust. “Clearly, you don’t know me at all.” Her words were venomous, lips twitching in anger.

There was nobody who understood you more than Ellie, and vice versa. You just got each other because you came from similar backgrounds—that was your glue. You don’t know me at all. That was new.

With your eyes growing warm with tears, your tongue rolled in your mouth. “I spent all day setting this up… For you. Because I love you, Ellie. I don’t know you— that’s bullshit if I ever heard it.” Your voice cracked, but you refused to let a tear run down your cheek. This was no time for tears—if she could get angry, so could you.

“I’ve known you long enough to have some semblance of understanding on why you’re upset, right now— that’s for damn sure.” You paused, averting your eyes to concentrate on keeping your rising emotions at bay. She watched you, cheeks still red with anger. “I’m gonna give you ten minutes— ten, Ellie! If you don’t get your ass back in there in next ten fucking minutes…” You lick your lips, shaking your head. “We’re over. Done!”

Giving a final glare, you turned to head back inside. “I can’t keep dealing with this shit.” You mutter, under your breath.

“So that’s what it is… Dealing with me?” Ellie voiced, a sliver of disappointment slipping in her moment of anger.

Wiping your cheeks, you peered over your shoulder. “What?”

“You got this perfect little life… Huh?” She began, approaching you intimidatingly. “The loving parents, the farmhouse— you became the perfect daughter for them… Gets the grades, does everything she can to appease them. This fuckin’ fantasy world that you chose to live in all because you wanted someone to love you… Fuckin’ pathetic.”

“Ellie…” You warned.

“Well, newsflash, little-miss-perfect— not everybody wants that! Not everybody wants to play pretend for the rest of their fucking life just to be—“

It happened before you could stop it, fists clenching at your sides as she bad mouthed you till oblivion. Your soft spot—and she knew all about that. Both of you grew up as kids who got into fights and disputes more times than anyone could count; you just decided to clean up your act. However, that troubled twelve to thirteen-year-old still resided inside of you. And, in that moment, she wasn’t your doting girlfriend—she was someone punching down on you.

Your knuckles collided with the side of her face, knocking into her cheek bone. Features scowling as if she were a stranger. Ellie stumbled, holding onto her face with surprised eyes. For a second the version of her you loved came through, but she quickly recovered. Her lips curling at the ends, taunting you. “I knew you still had it in you… You’re no better than me.”

There it was.

Not only was it the straw that broke the camels back—it was the truth. The ultimate truth. Behind all of your petty little arguments. Behind all her wild bursts of anger. She was jealous of you. Grunting behind your teeth, you charged at her. Taking the collar of her jacket as her back hit the gravelly ground. Straddling her, you didn’t hear the rushing feet hitting the porch. You could feel her hands settling loosely on your calves, only angering you more. “I did the fucking work— nobody else but me!” Tears poured down your cheeks. “I am better than you. Because I fucking try—“

Arms pulled you off her body, wrapping around your abdomen. It was Tommy, questioning you in your ear, but you weren’t listening. “Everything went to shit because of you! Remember that!” Dina and Jesse rushed to her side, but she only sat up watching you get pulled back inside. They glared at your forced retreat—they were always more friends with her than they were with you.

Tommy released you, with a disappointed sigh. Maria walking inside, shutting the door behind her, frowning. You heaved, looking at all the decorations that mocked you. Sparkling and shining against the dim lights in the room. The barely eaten cake sat on the counter in the kitchen making fun of you—it was all too much.

“What the hell has gotten into you, y/n?!” Maria pointedly, asked. Not really wanting a response.

“What’s gotten into me?! What’s gotten into her—!” You pointed to the door as if she replaced it.

The blond man leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter, bending at his hips. “Well, I don’t think it matters what’s gotten into her if you put your hands on her, Bug.” Tommy spoke, evenly. He was always the calmer of the two. “Did you… Did you put your hands on her?”

Maria stood with her hands on her hips. “What did we say about fighting—? And you don’t hit your girlfriend— you don’t hit the people that you care about!” She scolded, pointing her finger. “We raised you better than that…”

Your lips quivered, guilt setting in. “I didn’t mean to hit her! She wanted— she wanted me to… I swear!”

He glanced at his wife. “She wanted you to hit her?” Tommy deadpanned, pressing his lips into a line.

They both looked at you with separate expressions. Maria clearly overwhelmed with disappointment and utter disbelief. The same look she gave you when she caught you smoking cigarettes at the barn when you were fourteen—when you told her you quit. Tommy had an expression of pity, like he often did. That same look he gave when you had a meltdown at school when you first moved in with them.

More tears began to roll down your cheeks. “Maria… Tommy… She pushed me. Why would she do that? Why would she—“ You began to ramble, knees growing weak. Your strict mother-figure rushed to your side, catching you before you fell. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to— she was just being so mean.”

Sinking to the floor with you, her hands caressed your hair. Maria looked to Tommy, mouthing for him to go check on Ellie.

Outside, Ellie was dismissing the weary questions from her friends. She’d never seen you act in such an unruly way. Every time she came over, there wasn’t a hair that was out of place on your head. She was always the one acting out, swearing like a sailor. Sure, she knew about your smoking habit, but that was nothing.

Your girlfriend was envious of how everything was panning out for you—college was around the corner. You had an acceptance letter from your dream school, and without a doubt, you were leaving for the city. Leaving her behind to rot in the country. It wasn’t fair!

That adoption letter felt like pity. She wasn’t a fan of that feeling either.

As a bruise formed on her cheek, guilt settled into the pit of her stomach. Ellie had every intention on seeing the side of you that everyone talked about with a past tense that indicated warning. She needed to prove to herself that you weren’t the perfect person she saw you to be—but all that was left behind was remorse and a sore cheek.

She watched as Joel and Tommy stepped aside to talk. Their eyes glancing back and forth between the door and Ellie, as she leaned against her rusted red truck.

“I can’t believe she would do something like that… On your birthday?” Dina shook her head, with her arms crossed.

“It’s not like her…” Jesse narrowed his eyes at the auburn-haired girl. “What’d you do?”

Dina smacked his chest. “Jessie! She’s literally the victim here— domestic abuse!”

He sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes. “I’m not saying what she did was right.” Jessie began. “I’m saying that I know Ellie Williams, and I know how she is— she’s a pusher.”

The bruised seventeen-year-old scoffed.

“Yeah, I said it.” He stood tall, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You’re a pusher. Hell, you’re a professional pusher— you push people for a fucking living.” Dina glared at him, threatening to hit him again. “I mean, there was that one time… When we went into the city for that comic convention, and you completely obliterated Joel for worrying about you—“

The dark-haired, freckled teenager pushed her boyfriend out of the way taking his place. “We don’t have to relive that…”

Ellie rolled her tongue in her mouth. “Look, I know this is my fault…”

“Ellie… You’re the one with the bruise forming on your face.” She reached up, rubbing her cheek. Her wincing under her touch.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, squeezing her red eyes. “Yeah, and if it weren’t for me— for what I said… I wouldn’t have this fuckin’ bruise.” Ellie peered at where Joel and Tommy were speaking. They were wrapping up, giving brotherly hugs. “I am a pusher… And now my girlfriend hates me.” She pouted, tears welling up in her eyes. The blond Miller waved a hand at her, giving a tight-lipped smile that screamed I’m sorry. “I gotta go…” She pulled her keys from her pocket, getting into her truck.

That was the last full conversation the two of you had. Horrible, but the last. Everything in between then and the present was short and empty. Light conversations that only strangers and acquaintances shared. Letters here and there. It was a dispute that was so nuanced, for the first year after that, Joel barely said a word to you. Which bled into his relationship with Tommy. Maria tried to play middleman, but it didn’t work.

Perhaps, that was the reason you kept your distance. You didn’t want to continue to be the wedge that formed between two brothers. While you loved your parents, they were only a phone-call away. And, in the meantime, you could focus on growing in your career. Focusing on your book writing, instead.

You just wanted to forget about what happened when you were an emotionally undeveloped seventeen-year-old, but every time you seen her face—you remembered. So, avoiding Ellie Williams was a mission within itself.

A mission you were hoping you weren’t going to have to endure this year.

“You know,” Tommy began, sipping his fresh coffee. “Joel’s coming down from Jersey for the week.”

As you looked through the fridge, you snapped your head in his direction. “Is he now…?” You slowly question. Letting the fridge door shut on its own. The blonde woman to his right, sitting at the island counter, chuckled. Flipping through the interior design magazine you brought for her.

“And he’s picking up Ellie from the city.”

“What!” You exclaim, rushing to the opposite side of the counter. Pulling the mug from his lips, a surprised squeak left your throat. “Uh, dad… You forgot to mention on the several phone calls that we had in that last month that Ellie moved to the city.”

Maria perked up, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, she’s been there for about a year now… Brooklyn, is it?” She looked to her husband for clarification. He nodded, peering up at you with a plain expression.

“A year?! And none of you told me?”

“Bug, you did say that you didn’t want us to bring her up anymore unless you asked.” Maria stood to her feet, meandering to the stove and oven. “But that does remind me… They should be here in a few hours. Wanna help with the brownies?” She preheated the oven, walking around you casually.

Your mouth fell open, glancing between the two of them. “Okay, so they get brownies, and I get the worst news of my life…” An apron with your nickname embroidered on the front, Bug, hung in your mother's hand as an offering. “Yes, I’ll help with the brownies— this is very cruel to your very successful daughter.”

Tommy waved his hand, dismissively. “C’mon, that incident happened years ago now. You’re twenty-five, I’m sure she’s gotten over it.”

Tying the string around your neck and back, you pressed your lips into a line. It wasn’t really about her—you weren’t over it. You still harbored the same guilt you felt when you settled in your room that night. A crazy mixture of resentment and remorse all rolled up into one feeling; as you settled in your reading nook, with your hand out the window holding a burning cigarette with your index and middle finger. “I’m sure she has…”

Eventually, you switched the conversation around while baking. Falling into fits of laughter from mentioning past stories of your teenagehood. Teaming up with Maria to make fun of Tommy and his aging—all of a sudden, he was beginning to have a knack for playing a checkers. Only old people enjoyed playing checkers. Then, the waiting began.

To busy yourself, you pulled out your computer and brought it to the porch. Even though, you were taking some time off at your publishing job; when it came to your book writing, you had an agent to keep flooding your inbox with emails. Telling you to do this and do that—it was obnoxious. But you did as she asked anyway.

Typing away, a puff of nicotine fled from your lips. Murmuring under your breath, the words that were populating on the screen. On your hip, your phone rang, causing you to throw your head back in slight agony. Something always interrupted you when you were flowing. Flipping open your phone, the decorative chain swinging around as you placed it against your ear. “Hello,” You spoke, stubbing out your cigarette.

It was your roommate and closest friend, Sierra, complaining about the neighbors. Her strong long island accent echoing through the phone. “Oh, my God— they’re so loud! You’d think gettin’ an apartment in a nicer building would thicken the walls.” She groaned on the other end. “Please, come back. At least to tell them to shut up, and then you could go back upstate.”

“Why don’t you… I don’t know…” You shut your laptop, replacing your butt with the boxy electronic. Strolling to the far end of the porch, leaning your arms against the bannister. “Tell them yourself?” An amused smile spread on your lips.

Sierra paused. “Because that’s your job. I’m the nice one, remember?”

“Okay, well I can’t leave. I just got here, and I’m not spending another grand on taxi fare.”

“I’ll spot you.” You could hear her smile on the end.

“Sierra, I’m not coming back until Saturday. So, your only options are to either bang on their door— telling them to shut the hell up— or you suffer listening to their relentless daytime sex.” As you spoke, a truck began rolling up the driveway. Identities unclear due to the intense window tint, but you knew exactly who it was. However, there were three heads in that truck.

She groaned on the other end of the line. “Ugh! I hate you—“

“You love me!” You grinned, but it dropped right off your face when the people exited the vehicle. From the driver's seat, it was Ellie; then, it was Joel who exited, seemingly in conversation. And, finally, a girl stepped out of the vehicle. Joel noticed you leaning against the bannister on the porch, waving his hand with a smile.

Your muscles reacted, waving a fleeting hand. “Maria, Tommy! They’re here!” You yell loud enough to be heard through the screen door. You were always insecure about calling them by their parental titles in front of people—let alone new people.

“You’re yelling in my ear, hon. If you gotta go just tell me.” Sierra complained.

“I gotta go.”

Before she could say her goodbyes, you shut your phone, sliding it into your back pocket. Your parents came out of the house in high spirits; Maria clapping her hands, excitedly, embracing Ellie. Tommy giving a firm bear hug to Joel, laughing heartily—at what? You were unsure.

Awkwardly, you stood there. Smiling with your hands held in front of your body as if you were presenting a project.

Joel looked to you, approaching you with open arms. “Look at you,” He began, wrapping his arms around you, warmly. “All grown up.” He pulled back to get a better look at you, nodding proudly.

“Yeah…” You tapped his shoulder. “You, too.” A chuckle fell from your lips.

Then, you looked to your right at the freckled girl with her arm around a feminine stranger. However, you couldn’t indentify her before you did Ellie. Her auburn hair was pulled into a low bun, with pieces framing her gentle features. Her round evergreen, tinted with slivers of brown, eyes. Freckles decorating her cheeks, bridge of her nose; the beauty mark under left eye—

“Hey,” Ellie drawled out the greeting, awkwardly. Leaning in for a hug that teetered back and forth until you reciprocated.

You kept that same plastered smile on your lips, wrapping your arm under hers. “Hey, Ellie.” Pulling back, you finally looked at the girl beside her. She had tattoos and piercings and looked so much cooler than you. “Who’s this?”

Her earthy eyes widened. “Oh, this is, uhm, my girlfriend, Cat.”

The only response you could give was a nod and a half-hearted wave. It was like a dramatic record scratch in your head. But your parents took over with the rest. Guiding everyone inside to the warmth. Tommy remained outside, giving you skeptical eyes. “Help me with the bags…”

“Honey, don’t be weird about this.” He spoke, as you followed him to the truck.

“I’m not being weird.” You whined, gravel crunching under your feet. “Seriously, what’s to be weird about?” Reaching into the open trunk, you pulled out luggage’s and duffle bags. This was a lot of stuff for a week stay—they brought more than you did.

He gruffly breathed, pulling up the handle of one of the suitcases. “You’re my daughter, I know you— just sayin’…”

“Oh, my God— please!” You complained, hooking the duffle over your shoulder, pulling one of the luggage’s. Leaving him to follow you toward the porch.

Dinner had come quicker than you had hoped. If anything, if you could magically skip over the thing, and still eat, that would’ve been perfect.

All six of you sat at the dining table, forks and knives scratching at ceramic plates. Tommy and Joel had gathered in the back, last minute to cook up some steaks. And, to busy yourself, you helped Maria with the sides while Ellie and Cat got situated in the guest house.

“So, y/n, how’s the book comin’ along?” Joel wondered, putting a cut piece of steak into his mouth.

You made a surprised sound as you chewed your food, rushing to swallow. “Shit, you’re writing a book?” Ellie questioned, leaning her elbows on the table.

Taking a sip of water, you decided to respond. “Yeah, I’ve been working on it for a while.” Your eyes glanced at her, then moved on, quickly, to Joel’s. “It’s… Coming along.” A bashful laugh fell from your lips, as your hand reached for the glass of wine. It was barely touched, red hue swishing in the bulb of the glass as you took a sip. It’s fruity bitterness relishing over your tongue.

“What is it— like fiction or…?” Ellie pressed, genuinely.

“Non-fiction. A book of essay’s, really— written in different forms.” You nodded. “It sounds boring…”

Ellie shrugged, forking a piece of meat into her mouth. “Doesn’t sound boring to me.” She responded, with her mouth full.

“It’s the farthest from boring, honey.” Maria massaged your shoulder, sharing a small smile. You mirrored her in return, forking at the vegetables on your plate—perfectly steamed broccoli.

“How’s Brooklyn treating you?” You spoke up, raising your eyebrows.

Ellie lightly glared at Joel before answering, placing her utensils down. “It’s certainly treating me…” She muttered, rubbing her hands together, glancing at her girlfriend.

“It’s a great place for art, but just not Ellie’s art.” Cat chuckled, sipping from her wine glass.

“Oh, that’s what you’re doing.” You nod.

“I recall her using the words: too crowded.” Joel used air quotes to briefly describe the past conversation.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “It makes me feel crowded— the city. When you say it like that, it makes me sound fucking stupid, Joel.”

“You did say crowded.”

“Well, I meant overwhelmed.”

You snickered at their bickering, leaning back in your chair. “Back to your art, I guess you’re experiencing the artistic equivalent to writers block?” Tommy inquired, still chewing on his steak, raising an eyebrow. The auburn-haired young woman nodded, chuckling to herself. “That’s why you’re stayin’ with us for a little while, huh?”

Another record scratch.

You blinked at you father, deepening your eyebrows. “Wait, what?”

Joel had set his beer on the table, leaning forward. “Yeah, Ellie’s stayin’ with your parents for a little while to get her juices flowing, again.” He explained, pressing his lips into a soft smile. Ellie cringed at his use of the words juices, taking a sip of her beer.

Tommy and Maria told you nothing unless you asked for it for almost everything now—you at least deserved to know that Ellie was staying on the farm indefinitely. After all, when they’re dead and gone, it’ll be yours; so, they could’ve at least told you without you having to ask—that’s big!

“And, I’ll help out so I won’t be sleeping the day away— because I know that I will without a proper schedule.”

“I thought you guys didn’t need a farmhand.” You glanced at your parents, with your eyebrows still deepened with confusion.

Maria chuckled, standing to her feet. “We don’t need anything, but who could say no to a helping hand?” She grabs the empty basket of biscuits from the center of the table. “Anybody want more biscuits?”

“I would love some!” Cat spoke up, holding up a tattooed finger.

“Me too, honey.” Tommy also spoke.

A dry chortle left your lips, leaning against the back of the chair. “Are you staying on the farm, too?” You peered over at the stranger—the girlfriend, with a slight accusatory tone.

Her lips parted a few times before she responded. “Oh, no, I’m going back to Brooklyn. Not much of a country girl.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded, downing the rest of your wine. This week was going to be a doozy. When Maria came back to the table, you snatched a biscuit from the basket, biting into it. There was a perfect crispy layer on the outside, mixed with the perfect gooey, soft innards of the biscuit. “These are so good.” You muttered with your mouth full with its buttery goodness.

On your hip, your phone buzzed. Cursing under your breath, you plucked the cellphone from your belt, flicking it open. It was your agent calling you at eight o’clock at night. “Excuse me, I gotta take this.” You scooted the chair back, pressing the green button. “It’s late, Isa.” You started the call, stalking out of the room like the corporate woman you are. Taking the route up the stairs to your old bedroom.

“I need that new chapter by tomorrow morning— as in, 8am.” She scolded on the other line. “I’m personally reminding you. Since you couldn’t respond to my emails.”

You sighed, shutting your bedroom door behind you. “Isa, I’ve been traveling all day on public transport, and I’ve been trying to have family time— is that not what Thanksgiving is about?”

“You’re writer, hon. You have little bit of family time, then you hermit to finish your work— now, stop giving me grief. Time is of the essence.” Her smooth voice told, chuckling after her words. “I’ll be anticipating you’re new chapter tomorrow at eight! Have a great night.”

“Have a great night…”

Slapping your phone shut, you sighed, running your other hand over your face. Being a writer was relentless—just as relentless as you and your roommate’s neighbors. But, instead of lingering in frustration, you grabbed your heavy laptop and propped yourself on the cushion beside your window—your reading nook. Not forgetting to put a Sade tape inside of your stereo for some background music, before you began to diligently work.

You typed at your computer, rapid clicking sounds filling your ears. Although, it was no surprise that you worked your hardest after the sun set—it was like you had one too many espresso shots.

Every word was coming from the heart, and coincidentally enough, the guests at your home made it easier. This chapter was definitely reflecting the feelings you felt the day of Ellie’s seventeenth birthday. You used imagery and metaphors to describe that feeling of attack—being backed into a corner, having the worst part of yourself brought into the light. And, like most of your pieces, it was dredging it all back up again; the emotions.

That feeling of losing the only person that truly understood you.

Of course, you had a few relationships since then—a few, trying to chase that same feeling you felt when your hands touched. But there wasn’t anyone who could compare to her. How pathetic was it to still be harping on a highschool sweetheart?

Hours passed under the radar. Your parents being the mile marker in your work, knocking on the door to let you know everyone was heading to bed. Too busy with outlining new ideas, you barely spared them a glance, muttering a smooth goodnight.

It was about one in the morning by the time you finished the chapter. Still, it needed some tweaking, but it was good enough to send to your agent for the editor to look at.

Shutting your laptop, you finally took in your old bedroom. Various music artists slapped against your soft pink walls, attached with tape—some corners hanging off. Catwoman figurines lining the back of your large, white, wooden dresser; with comics stacked alongside them. Stacks of old books in the corner of your room, stacked from the floor to the middle of her wall. If you were to stumble into them, they’d experience one hell of a fall.

Suddenly, curiosity struck.

Hopping from the cushioned seat under your paneled window, you looked under your bed. Reaching for an old shoebox that was filled with many, many interesting things. You slid it from under the dusty bed frame, taking it back to that plushy seat you appreciated so dearly. Plucking the top off, you released a sigh. Immediately being hit with polaroids of yourself as a teenager—mostly standing beside, laughing with, and cuddling Ellie.

They were the photos you snatched from your wall after that fight. Oh, she looked the same. Still had that uncertainty in her earthy, olive eyes. You didn’t understand it then, and you most definitely didn’t understand it now. Ellie didn’t have to feel the uncertainty she was used to in foster care. She had people who believed in her—who will always believe in her.

Sifting through, your hands hovered over a letter she wrote. It was an apology letter sent around the time of her eighteenth birthday—almost a full year since the situation. The envelope was ripped open from the day you received it; stained with salty, heartbroken tears.

If only that day never happened…

A startling knock sounded at your window. It was no more than a pebble, which was confirmed when another launched within your sights. Scrunching up your eyebrows, you unlocked it, pulling it upwards. Once you peaked your head outside into the brisk, cool weather, a small smile spread onto your lips.

“Workin’ hard or hardly workin’ up there?” Ellie called from below. “I brought a little somethin’… Thought you could use a break from writing.” She waved a tightly rolled joint in her hands—which could only be seen if you squinted.

The corners of your lips spread wider, feeling horribly nostalgic. “You’re actually a little too late on that front. I finished a few minutes ago,” You pressed your lips into a line, continuing. “But I could never turn down smoke break. I’ll be down in a second.”

Dropping the letter, you scooted off the seat to grab your jacket. Stuffing your feet into the semi-stained Uggs you wore into the ground, before fleeing your bedroom. You didn’t feel the need to sneak down the stairs, but a part of you wanted to—to relieve that feeling of adrenaline you felt in your youth.

Ellie met you at the back door, holding open the creaking screen door as you exited. “I honestly wasn’t sure you still did this.” She chuckled, looking at the ground as you both began to walk away from the house. Putting some distance so the smell wouldn’t upset the elders in the home.

“What? Smoke weed?” You perked an eyebrow. “You think because I went all corporate, I stopped being down?”

“Actually… Yeah.” She responded, nervously snickering.

The two ofyou settled in front of this white-lined shed that was illuminated by the two warm, orange-toned lights on either side of the door. “Well, you’re kind of right…” You admitted, squinting your eyes, embarrassed. It’s hard being known for your adaptability. “I try to keep the pot smoking to a minimum. In the corporate world they test you for it.”

Ellie pulled the joint from behind her ear, placing it between her lips. She shook her head in response to your words. “Says the cigarette smoker…” She joked, eyeing you, teasingly. While she flicked her lighter to burn the tip.

“Hey, they don’t give a rats ass about nicotine— I need to make up for that loss somehow. I’m a writer for christ’s sake.”

When she finally gets it to catch the fire, she took two puffs before passing it to you between her index and thumb. “Where’s Cat?” You innocently questioned, taking a hit of the joint, then looking at it, before taking another hit.

Ellie became rigid, releasing an exasperated sigh from her lips. “The guesthouse, watchin’ some movie.”

You handed her the joint. “What, is she not down?” Mocking your previous words, with amused eyes. However, her demeanor had quickly shifted.

“She gets easily frustrated after traveling all day…” She shook her head in a dismissive way, like she didn’t want any further questions to asked.

“Hm… That’s relatable.”

Silence engulfed the both of you as you passed the blunt back and forth until it was nothing more than a roach. Hearing nothing but the distant wind chimes sounding off on the porch.

Before speaking, Ellie took a deep breath, glancing over at you as if she were nervous to make eye contact. “I hope me stayin’ here for a little bit doesn’t bother you too much.”

Her words were double-take worthy, you looked over at her with expressive eyes—widening, in surprise. “Bother me? Why would it bother me?” You leaned your shoulder on the shed, kicking one leg over the other.

“You didn’t seem like the biggest fan—“

“Ellie, I was surprised. That’s all.” You waved your hand, shaking your head. “I feel like they don’t tell me shit anymore…” Shoulders shrugging, you glance toward the house standing tall in all its glory. “They didn’t tell me about you moving to Brooklyn, either. What does it look like when someone you’ve known your whole life moves to a city you’re actually familiar with and they’re not, and you don’t reach out to help them? I’m only a forty minute train ride away.” You rambled, deepening your eyebrows. “They basically made me look like an asshole.”

You weren’t entirely sure how you’d react if you knew about Ellie’s moving to the big city. Knowing your habits, you’d probably sit by the phone for hours before making the move to give her a call. But, it’s not like you were given the opportunity to figure it out for yourself. Now, it just appeared that you forgot about her—or could care less about her endeavors; which is farthest from the truth.

Her full lips cracked into a smile, chuckling. The auburn-haired woman, mirrored your position, leaning her shoulder against the wooden shed. “Always worried about what you look like…” She muttered, sucking her teeth. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you’re an asshole— you just didn’t know.” Ellie shrugged. “It’s not like we talk as much as we used to…”

As much as we used to. That kind of stung.

Your eyes averted to the gravel under your boots. “Yeah…” There was an awkward beat that took its place between you. Swallowing, you shooed it away with speaking up. “What about your art? You’re living in one of the most creative cities in the world, and you can’t create?”

She puffed air from her lips, glancing in the direction of the guesthouse, priming her lips. “Okay… Confession— but only if what’s said here stays here.”

“What’s said at the shed, stays at the shed.” You affirm, holding a hand and crossing to fingers. The high from what you smoked clouding your mind, squinting your eyes and loosening your inhibitions.

“Cat and I moved in together pretty early— too early… I needed a roommate and she was the perfect option.” Ellie began, carefully. Olive eyes shifting under the dim light in thought. “I swear ever since I moved in with her… The inspiration to make anything new is fucking gone.” She ran her hand over her hair, which was actually loose without a hair tie. Dusting over her shoulders, pieces pushed behind her ears. “She, you know, hovers a lot— in a sweet way, it’s just irritating because not even her pushing me can be inspiring.”

Your heart skipped a beat; it was hopeful—you really are an asshole! “Damn… So, it’s not the city that makes you feel crowded. It’s Cat.” You hum, nodding your head, taking in your assumption. “And… You think staying here will help? Doing boring farm work?” A chuckle falls from your lips, borderline nervous, borderline humored.

She pursed her lips, raising her eyebrows. “I mean, I spent a lot of time here growin’ up…” Ellie looked at you, knowingly. “It was never boring when we did it together.”

“That’s because we were doing it together. I’m not gonna be here while you’re shoveling horse shit.” You chortled, peering at her through hazy eyes. She giggled and it sounded like music to your ears. It’s been awhile since you heard her laugh from something you said. Weed always did have a way of bringing people together.

“Well, maybe before you go, you could help me out. Jog my memory.” Ellie offered, raising her eyebrows. “It’s either you or suffering through Tommy’s jokes for hours—“

“I don’t mind, but we might have to jog each others memory.”

“Hey, you can take the girl out the country, but not the country out the girl.” She shrugged. “I have faith in you.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, a smile spread on your lips. “You’re still so corny.” Shaking your head, a laugh slips. Wrapping your arms around your body, you acknowledge the cool weather. It pricked at your exposed skin, and even through your jacket. “It’s getting late…”

She scratched the back of her neck. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I appreciate the joint— I needed it.” You pushed off the shed wall, licking your lips. In preparation to meander back toward the house, you rocked on your feet. “There’s some left over biscuits on the counter…” You drawled, but it was all right because Ellie had filled in for you.

“I’m fucking starving.”

Then, the two of you walked shoulder to shoulder back inside. Giggling at stupid jokes, surfing over any of the past debacles you had. Turns out reconvening with your childhood lover wasn’t so bad after all. For now, anyway.

#🪅#millersfinest #ellie williams #lesbian #ellie tlou #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams series

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angelfic · 2 years ago

Text

— CALM AFTER THE STORM

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: the 4 times you hate each other, and the one time you don’t. alternatively, remus lupin is a pain in your arse and yours alone.

warnings: enemies to lovers, swearing, kissing, mention of blood and wounds, some bad writing as always which is unedited

author’s note: just a little e2l fic for my own indulgence as its my fave trope and its criminal how i barely have any e2l fics… also haven’t written anything in ages soooo enjoy!

when he just has to be controversial

The sun was beaming, colourful rays reflecting over your book through the stained-glass windows of the Gryffindor common room as you lounged on the sofa with your head in Lily’s lap. You were barely paying attention to the chatter of your friends around you, choosing to focus on your copy of ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ and Marlene’s soft guitar playing. The lazy afternoon is a welcome break from the increasingly stressful N.E.W.T lessons that have had you all so exhausted, you’re not sure if Peter is asleep or dead from his curled-up position on the rug.

You don’t even realise someone is saying your name until Marlene tickles the sole of your socked foot with her guitar pick, making you yelp and draw your legs in from where they were previously tucked in between Marlene and her guitar.

“What was that for?” you grumble, nudging her arm with your foot.

Marlene smirks, nodding over to James. “He told me to get your attention. Didn’t specify how.”

You roll your eyes and turn on your side to face the boy in question, his grin unfaltering as he multitasks polishing the handle of his broomstick and talking to you. “Not my fault you’re dead to the world when you’re reading,” he says, matter-of-fact, continuing when you raise your eyebrows in impatience. “I was just wondering how you could look so interested in that book. Remus said he’d do my homework for a month if I finished it the other day and I couldn’t get past five arse-numbingly dull pages.”

You scoff, adjusting your position again to face Remus as well. “And why was Remus betting you to read my book, exactly?”

“It was my copy,” Remus replies, scribbling away on his parchment, cross legged on his chair, to undoubtedly finish the Potions essay that Slughorn had set yesterday. You’re transfixed on the way his hand is moving across the page for a second, unable to fathom how someone can have such messy handwriting. You aren’t surprised in the slightest that the next words coming out of his mouth are ones you disagree with. “I wanted to see how long he lasted reading the slowest-paced book in the world.”

You abruptly sit up at this, shutting your book and forgetting plans of relaxation.

“Hey, watch it!” Lily exclaims, lifting the bottle of black polish she’s using to paint Sirius’ nails from its balanced position on her thigh to avoid you spilling it all over her white top. “If you’re about to argue, please refrain from throwing things until after I’ve done the second coat of nail polish.”

You pointedly ignore this and narrow your eyes at Remus who, infuriatingly, still hasn’t lifted his head from his essay. “I’m surprised you found it hard to read such a slow book. Thought that’d be perfect for you.”

“Look what you’ve started, Prongs,” Sirius sighs, examining his nails.

Seeing the corners of Remus’ lips pull up into a slight smile at your comment just spurs you on in defence of the book you were previously enjoying. “Besides, it’s about a real-life teenager with real-life struggles, not The Hobbit on his latest adventure.”

“Who’s Hobbit?” James mumbles, scratching his head in confusion as Marlene just shrugs, equally oblivious.

“It’s overrated,” Remus insists, finally setting down his quill to look at you. The amused expression still hasn’t left his face and you make a noise halfway between a scoff and a high-pitched squeal of indignance. “Even James agrees.”

“Oh, and James’ opinion on literature is the standard now?” You raise a brow, tutting when James starts to protest. “The only book James has finished in the last six years was Quidditch Through the Ages.”

The way James slowly slides the aforementioned book under one of the sofa cushions doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone. Sirius starts snickering, much to Lily’s annoyance as she tries to control his hand. “She got you there, in fairness, mate.”

Sirius’ chortling seems to stir Peter from his sleep and he opens one eye to peer at you. Seeming to catch sight of your irritated expression, he frowns. “Are these two arguing like an old married couple again?”

“Merlin help us if these two ever decide to get married,” Marlene utters under her breath, bent over her guitar and avoiding the weight of your glare.

“Yeah, he wishes,” you grumble, shuffling around on the sofa to get back into a comfortable position with your book. Remus’ smile has only widened in response and he seems to enjoy your discomfort as you overcompensate for showing your annoyance by wriggling about.

“I dream about it every night,” Remus replies, dryly and Peter giggles below you before turning over to sleep again.

You overcompensate a little too much by moving around, because Lily huffs from beside you and starts scrambling around for a tissue. “What did I say about the second coat?”

“I didn’t throw anything this time!”

2. when he won’t let you give someone a black eye

Defence Against the Dark Arts is your favourite N.E.W.T subject for a lot of reasons. You enjoy the lesson content, it’ll be useful in future years, and it’s the one lesson you share with every single one of your friends.

You’ve gotten used to James and Sirius messing around while Professor Marigold recites fact after fact about spells and creatures and wizards of dark nature. Its like soothing background noise to you and your classmates who all concentrate in silence most of the time.

Which is why your quill stops on your page and leaves a growing ink blot when you hear snickering and whispers from the other side of the classroom rather than from in front of you where the marauders sit in a line.

The scoffs of disgust coming from Snape and Mulciber are loud enough to attract the attention of the rest of the students and even the teacher, who eventually sets down her piece of chalk in the middle of talking about Wolfsbane potion with an impatient sigh.

“Is there some sort of pressing issue that can’t wait until after class to discuss, boys?” Professor Marigold asks with a tone of ire that would impress Professor McGonagall. “Even Black and Potter have decided to give it a rest today.”

She’s not wrong, you think, noting how they’ve been less disruptive than usual for this lesson, probably tired out from setting each other’s robes on fire in Charms the hour before.

“The pressing issue is werewolves,” Snape mutters quietly, as though he doesn’t want to make a big issue but can’t stop himself from speaking up. “We should be learning more about how to kill them and less about the price of potion ingredients.”

Lily gasps from beside you and Sirius and James tense up at his words. Remus doesn’t lift his head, but you absently notice how his grip tightens around his quill when Peter nervously turns to him. Peter isn’t one for conflict and he’s always been nervous around this particular group of Slytherins, so you’re not surprised he’s anxious.

“Werewolves are still people, you can’t just go around killing them!” you find your mouth moving on its own, before your brain can catch up. When Snape turns to direct his scowl at you, its matched by your own as well as Lily’s disappointed frown. “They didn’t ask to be werewolves, they physically can’t help it! How would you feel if people wanted to kill you for not being able to control being such an arse.”

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor Marigold warns, setting her stern eyes on you. You’re not one for disrupting lessons or getting into trouble, so when Remus turns around to look at you with a raised eyebrow, your cheeks start to warm and you stubbornly don’t look his way again.

Snape ignores her to continue glaring at you. “I don’t have the capacity to kill people in a feral rage now, do I?” His gaze flits from you to Lily and Marlene and then lingers on the boys. “Of course, you’re defending werewolves. It’s no surprise considering who you choose to associate yourself with.”

“Mr Snape.”

“You have no need to fly into a feral rage to kill people,” you reply, voice steadily rising in volume. Sirius and James turn their heads back and forth like they’re watching a tennis match and you know the only reason they haven’t piped up to agree with you is because they’re too entertained watching the way you’re about to jump out of your seat to pounce on Snape. “All you need to do is show someone your face for them to die of fright–”

“ENOUGH!” Professor Marigold’s booming voice cuts through the laughter of everyone on the Gryffindor side of the classroom and when you turn to look at her, you see even Remus’ shoulders are shaking with silent laughter. You’re not sure why this pleases you, but it doesn’t last long enough for you to figure it out before Marigold waves her wand in the direction of the door and sends it flying open. “Both of you will wait for me outside the classroom until the lesson has finished so I can discuss your appalling behaviour.”

You gape at her for a second, before relenting and grabbing your bag, not wanting to argue with her authority. Your friends have different ideas.

“That’s not fair!” Marlene exclaims, standing up in protest. “She didn’t even do anything wrong.”

“Yeah,” James agrees, also standing up. “Snape’s the one who was being an annoying pri–”

“Sit down, everyone,” Marigold cuts him off, pursing her lips. “Everyone except Mr Snape and Miss Y/L/N. Do not even think about speaking Mr Black, or I won’t hesitate to suspend your and Mr Potter’s Quidditch privileges until further notice.”

Sirius shuts his mouth after a nudge from James and you shoot your friends a grateful smile before making your way out of the classroom, followed closely by Snape.

The door shuts behind him and you don’t bother sparing him a glance before dumping your bag on the ground and leaning against a wall to focus your gaze on a suit of armour for the next five minutes. You’re about half a minute in when you notice that one of the hands are slightly wonky and the classroom door suddenly opens.

Remus, of all people, enters the hallway to join the two of you and quickly shuts the door.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, furrowing your brows and getting up from against the wall.

“Yeah, what are you doing here?” Snape sneers at him, and you give him a scathing look before turning to Remus for an answer.

Remus pointedly ignores him to stand next to you against the brick wall. “I just pointed out to Professor Marigold that you both have your wands and she may not have two students left out here by the end of the lesson.”

“I can defend myself,” you snort, folding your arms. You aren’t sure if you’re annoyed that Remus is insinuating otherwise, or if you’re touched that he doesn’t want you to be hexed into oblivion by Snape. “Especially from him.”

“Oh, I know,” Remus raises both hands in surrender as his tone becomes grave. “It’s not you I’m worried about, trouble.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes at the nickname. He started it around a year ago when you got your first ever detention for helping Sirius and James Charm the Slytherin chairs to throw them off every time someone sat. Your friends had kept quiet about your involvement, but Peeves had spotted you, the nosy bastard. The nickname stemmed from the fact it was the first time you had ever gotten into trouble and it never failed to irritate you. “You better be careful I don’t hex you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of annoying you,” he says, but the serious tone of voice is ruined by the way his lips are twitching in an attempt not to laugh at you. “After what happened when I said I didn’t like that one Jane Austen book? Forget it.”

“Hey, you insulted one of my favourite characters,” you point out, resting a hand on your hip. “What did Emma ever do to you? You had that hex coming.”

“I had pink hair for a week,” Remus narrows his eyes at you, but you can tell he isn’t really angry. Although he refuses to admit it, you know for a fact he didn’t hate the pink hair considering how good he looked with it. An annoying indiscretion on your part. Remus looks behind you for a split second before leaning in a little to whisper. “I won’t get in the way if you want to turn Snape’s hair pink, though. Preferably a very bright shade of flaming, hot pink.”

At risk of your own cheeks flaming up from how close he is – really, what’s the need? – you shake your head let your hair fall into your face. Almost having forgotten Snape is also there, you start when he scoffs (for what you think is the millionth time this afternoon) and you sigh before facing him begrudgingly. “What now?”

“Couldn’t handle the content of today’s lesson?” he asks, tiling his head. You’re about to ask him what the hell he’s talking about before you realise, he isn’t actually talking to you, but to the boy behind you.

“Uh…” you trail off, not sure how to respond. All three of you currently standing in the corridor know that Remus is smart enough to tackle any type of content, especially something as memorable and interesting as werewolves.

Remus’ amused demeanour has been wiped away and you can’t determine his exact expression, but his voice is cold when he talks to you. “Just ignore him.”

“You and your group of friends can’t help themselves when it comes to defending strays and all sorts,” Snape continues, much to your confusion. “It’s not enough that you’re a group full of blood-traitors and mudbloods…”

Remus tenses up behind you and you find yourself frozen for a second.

The next thing you know, you’re lunging at the greasy-haired Slytherin with every intention of hurting his face with your fists, wand long forgotten. Your fingers barely brush his robes, however, when you feel yourself being hauled back by strong arms that wrap around your middle.

“Let go!” you snarl, enjoying the way Snape has backed away, eyes wide and worried. “Did you hear what he said? Remus, let me go.”

He doesn’t relent, still holding onto you when he leans down to speak in your ear. “You’ve already gotten into trouble. You’ll get into a whole lot more when everyone walks out to see Snape with a black eye and you with bruised knuckles.”

“Worth it,” you grit out, still pulling away from his grip and throwing daggers with your eyes at Snape. After a few more seconds of pointless struggling, you relax very slightly just to turn in his arms so you can direct your next words to him more pointedly. “Not only is he a slimy, blood-supremacist twat, but he also wants to kill a poor bunch of werewolves. We should be throwing him into the bloody Black Lake!”

“I know, I-” Remus is cut off when the door opens and students start flooding into the corridor to provide a barrier between you and Snape, indicating the end of the lesson. Remus finally lets you go when he realises you’re in direct view of Professor Marigold who stands behind her desk, waiting for you. “I had no idea you were such an advocate for werewolves.”

It’s the last thing you expected him to say and you immediately look up at him and frown. “Again, they’re people. They don’t deserve to be victims of prejudice just as no one does.” He doesn’t respond, staring at you with an unreadable expression and a hint of a smile. Your frown deepens in confusion. Was he… laughing at you? Especially after you had just gotten along. “I’m so glad you find me amusing,” you say, scowling and storming back into the classroom and away from Remus.

3. when he's too good for flower crowns.

“Tell it again,” James insists, grin wide as ever plastered onto his face despite the withering look you send his way. “Getting a glimpse at even the possibility of Snivellus getting pummelled by Y/N would have made my entire year.”

“The galleons I’d give up to have been there,” Sirius releases a wistful sigh, closing his eyes as he lies down, facing the sun.

You hand him the daisy chain crown you just finished and he dutifully dons it. “I’ll alert the Ministry of Magic to order in a time-turner for an issue of utmost urgency,” you say sarcastically as you start on the next daisy chain. Sirius merely winks at you.

“I think you should’ve let her have at him, Remus,” Marlene states, unapologetic. You nod vehemently in agreement, a little too enthusiastically as you end up splitting a daisy down the middle.

Lily tuts, adjusting her own flower crown as it slips against her silky red hair. “I’m glad you didn’t. Godric knows what Professor Marigold would have done,” she shudders at the thought, ever the diligent student.

“Forget Marigold,” Peter chimes in. “Imagine what Professor McGonagall would have done.”

You don’t miss how he looks over his shoulder in case your head of house is taking a stroll along the grassy grounds.

“She would have combusted when you called him an ugly arse,” Remus pipes in, unhelpfully might you add, from where he sits slightly away from the group under a tree, reading.

The comment sends Marlene, Sirius and Peter into a fit of laughter – James is too busy staring at the way the sun is making Lily look ethereal and she’s too busy pretending not to notice while being secretly pleased. Doing a quick survey of your friends, you see everyone now has a flower crown except Remus. You make your way to the tree he’s resting against while the others chat, and sit yourself down with purpose.

Remus lowers his book very slightly to peer at you and your too-sweet smile. He raises a sceptical brow. “Should I be scared right now?”

You drop the fake smile and hold up your flower crown expectantly. “Everyone has one, but you.”

“How observant,” he says, setting his book down to look at you in mock astonishment. “Have the Aurors at the Ministry caught wind of you yet?”

“Don’t be a pain,” you groan, dropping it onto his open book. “I want everyone to wear one for the picture!”

Remus sighs, looking at the large camera over by your bag. You had saved up all summer to buy a magical camera to be able to take pictures of you and your friends in your final year at Hogwarts. The time you used your own muggle camera was a disaster of sparks and broken bits of plastic that took hours to mend. “I already agreed to your incessant picture-taking,” he reminds you, acting like it’s the most painful thing in the world. “The flower crown is not happening.”

“Fine, you miserable git,” you flick a handful of grass at him, sending him sputtering. “Now come and sit for the photo.”

You return to the group with Remus behind you and get everyone in position before hunting down someone to take the photo. Glancing around, you spot a close bunch of first-years and send Lily to use her Head Girl credentials (and warm and inviting personality, of course) to rope one of them into coming over.

“Okay, smile everyone,” you order, plopping down on the grass next to James. You elbow him in the ribs, not even having to look at him to know what he’s doing. “Stop looking at Lily and look at the camera.”

With a couple of mutterings and some nudging, the nervous first-year Hufflepuff girl shakily takes the picture and hurriedly hands you the camera in the middle of the picture sliding out of it. James and Sirius go back to playing with a golden Snitch while Peter watches, while Remus returns to his book.

Lily looks at the picture and coos over how cute everyone looks at the same time as Marlene complaining about her hair. You impatiently take the picture back to slide it into your photo album and something catches your eye.

Sirius is making a peace sign behind Remus’ head. His head that wears a flower crown.

4. when he bleeds out on you.

You’re not sure what time it is – either very late at night, or very early in the morning. You do know, however, that you want to finish your Herbology essay so you can enjoy tomorrow (or today) and cheer your friends on in the Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw Quidditch game. You only have the conclusion left and you’re confident it’ll be done in the next ten minutes.

If you can find your damned quill, that is. You could have sworn you had it ten minutes ago, just before you snuck down to the kitchens to persuade the house-elves to give you the strongest cup of coffee they could make. You take a quick sip and grimace at the lukewarm temperature before setting it down and getting up to search. After turning every sofa cushion upside down, you go to crouch behind the sofa.

You hear the door to the common room being swung open and the hushed voices of the Marauders enter, but you don’t take too much notice as you squint for your quill. It isn’t unusual for the boys to be roaming around the castle at odd hours of the night, but a hiss of pain grabs your attention at the same time you spot the quill.

“Can you guys manage taking him up to the-” Sirius cuts himself off when your face pops up from behind the sofa. He freezes in his efforts to hold up Remus, who you notice is leaning on him and James and Merlin’s balls he’s covered in blood.

“What the fuck happened to him?” Your voice comes out weak as you walk over to the boys. Remus has deep, bleeding slashes over his chest and an assortment of little cuts on his face and hands. He seems barely able to keep his eyes open but when his gaze meets yours, he winces. He isn’t the only one hurt and you realise Sirius’ arm is damp with blood and trembling, the same going for James’ thigh. “What the fuck happened to all of you, oh my God…?”

“Peter, you were supposed to keep watch,” James hisses at the boy who looks like a deer in headlights. He looks a lot better than the others, with only a couple of small cuts scattered around his face and arms.

“She was behind the sofa!”

James’ leg buckles and you snap out of your state of shock to dart forward and keep him steady. “Right. Shit, okay,” you breathe out, holding off asking any questions to prevent anyone from bleeding out. “James, Sirius, set Remus down on the sofa and take off his shirt. Peter, help these two up the stairs and go find a first-aid kit or something.”

“We’ve got a couple in the dorm,” Sirius says, summoning one of them down with a quick Accio and handing it to you. He hesitates for a second, probably unsure if he should stay and explain things, before deciding to turn in the direction of the stairs with James as Peter rushes to help them up. “Look after him, please. We’ll be right back, Moony.”

“Take your time, I’ve got him,” you utter, already fiddling with the first-aid box and trying to open it with shaky hands. You’re no healer, but you know enough to panic when you see Remus has had his eyes closed for the last few seconds. “Remus, keep your eyes open!”

He groans, cracking one eye open to look at you. “I’m injured and bleeding out and you still manage to yell at me.”

“I wasn’t yelling,” you frown, unscrewing the bottle of dittany and scrambling for the cotton pads. You try to avoid Remus’ gaze because you feel extremely silly about being more panicked than him when he’s the one with claw marks down his chest. “Don’t move, or it’ll hurt.”

While dabbing the liquid onto the deep gashes in an attempt to close them up, you ponder on the fact that he probably knows it hurts from experience. You’re not completely clueless.

“What are you thinking?” Remus whispers in the stifling quiet of the common room, looking unsure.

You don’t cease in your movements, changing cotton pad after cotton pad. It takes you a minute to muster up the courage to meet Remus’ gaze again and this time he looks more nervous than you’ve ever seen him. “You’re a werewolf, aren’t you?”

Remus gives you an almost imperceptible nod, like he doesn’t want to admit to it. You take a deep breath.

“Who else knows?” you ask calmly, as if you’re asking him about the weather.

“The boys and Lily,” he admits, swallowing hard. “Oh, and Snape.”

“Snape?” you exclaim, halting your dabbing to gawp at Remus. “I’m not saying you had to tell me or anything, but Snape?”

Remus winces and you don’t think it has anything to do with his injuries. “In my defence he found out on his own and hates me for it,” he rushes out. “And it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you… I-”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, waving him off and wondering how good you’re hiding the fact you’re a little hurt. “You didn’t have to tell me.”

“No, I wanted to. I did,” Remus insists, looking earnest. There’s something in his voice that’s a little pained and desperate that has you meeting his eyes. “I just couldn’t have dealt with it if you started looking at me differently. The boys and Lily sometimes do, y’know? Like I’m made of glass or something. It’s refreshing whenever you scowl at me or call me an idiot or an arse or a stupid gi-”

“Okay,” you stop him, stifling a grin. “I get it!”

Remus’ eyes flash with relief for a second before you notice doubt start to creep in again. “You don’t need to hide it, by the way. I won’t hold it against you if… If you’re scared or disgusted, or-”

“What?” you cut him off again and scrunch your nose in confusion. “I’m not scared or disgusted. Why would you think that?”

“You’ve been a bit too calm,” he points out.

Rolling your eyes, you grab a bandage to start patching up the worst of the injuries before you move onto the minor cuts and bruises. “I didn’t want you to think I was freaking out, or looking at you differently,” you quote his own words to him with a pointed look, making him smile again. “I don’t, you know. Think of you any differently, I mean.”

His expression is unreadable as he just looks at you and you just look at him, bandage hovering over his chest before his fingers come up to brush the back of your hand. He lightly holds your hand, softly running his thumb over your knuckle as his voice drops to a whisper again. “Thank you.”

You offer him a gentle smile, holding his gaze for a second longer before focusing on bandaging him up again. His hand drops to the side and you oddly find yourself missing his warmth. The large bandage adheres to his skin and you run your fingers along the sides to stick them down, feeling him shudder under your touch.

You quickly busy yourself with looking for more supplies in the kit to hide the way your own breathing has increased slightly. “Hey, anyway, I almost walloped Snape right in the eye for you. If that wasn’t any indication of my standing on werewolves, I don’t know what is.”

“Ah, my knight in shining armour,” Remus chuckles before breaking into a wheeze as the muscles of his injured abdomen contract. “Fuck, don’t make me laugh.”

“Don’t laugh at me then!”

5. when you’re definitely not jealous… you’re not!

Three cups of coffee. You’re on three cups of coffee. It’s also the same number of hours you’ve slept and by Godric can you feel it in every inch of your body as the muted chatter of the Great Hall buzzes around you. Your head is in your hands as you contemplate stealing some Polyjuice potion and bribing a first-year to take a dose with your hair in it so you can go to bed and they can pretend to watch the Quidditch match.

You knock back the last sip of coffee when you sense a presence sliding onto the bench in front of you. Groggily setting the cup down, you see that its Remus. It takes a second to remember why this is concerning.

“Morning, h- Wait, what the hell are you doing out of bed?” you hiss, leaning forward to avoid anyone listening in. You scan your eyes over his chest, two seconds away from ripping his shirt off to check his bandages. “How are you even standing?”

“Relax, Florence Nightingale,” Remus says, rolling his eyes at your dramatics. He does his own quick sweep of the table and sees that most people are out in the Quidditch stands already, so he proceeds to pull the neckline of his shirt down slightly to reveal an already fading scar. No bleeding in sight. “I went to Madame Pomfrey with the boys this morning and she hurried up the process like she usually does. I feel achier than a 90-year-old woman with a metal hip, but the brunt of it is gone and Pads and Prongs are good as new.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, narrowing your eyes slightly. “If you’re sure you can sit out in the stands…”

“I can once I’ve consumed every cup of tea on the premises,” he says, reaching for the teapot. An annoyingly smug smirk starts to appear on his face while he pours. “What, are you worried about me, trouble?”

You scowl instantly. “No, I just don’t want you collapsing on me in the Quidditch stands while I’m cheering the boys on.”

“Right.” He hides his grin behind his cup of tea.

“Hey,” you mumble, nodding to Patricia Holloway who looks like she’s making a beeline to your table. More specifically, towards Remus. “Bright and cheery Hufflepuff incoming.”

“Merlin, it’s too early for this,” Remus whispers, taking another sip of tea before his face breaks out into a charming smile directed at the girl who slides into the empty seat next to him. “Morning, Patricia.”

“You look good today, Remus,” Patricia rests her elbow on the table and tilts her head to look at him with simpering eyes. It’s no secret Remus is good-looking and you’ve heard a million girls talk about him before. You’ve never seen any of them approach him yourself, though. You can’t say you enjoy it. “Are you… okay, Y/N?”

You didn’t realise you were scowling until she addresses you and you rapidly smooth out your expression, clearing your throat. Remus looks amused, which makes it harder to keep the scowl off your face. “Fine! I’m fine, just a bit confused since Remus looks half asleep,” you attempt a laugh through gritted teeth and are spurred on when Remus is actively trying to fight a grin. “And his hair currently makes him look like he’s been dragged through the Forbidden Forest.”

He can’t stop himself snorting at that, but Patricia just looks confused as though unsure how to react. She settles on a nervous little laugh, turning back to him. “I can fix that for you, here,” she says, scooting closer and starts to run her hands through Remus’ hair. You poke your cheek with your tongue, marvelling at how bold she’s being and how Remus is just sat there, still looking amused as ever. “There, what do you think?”

“A hairbrush couldn’t have done a better job,” you deadpan, softening your expression slightly when Patricia begins to look a little disconcerted. “You keep doing that, I’m going to head off to the Quidditch field.”

You all but storm out of the Great Hall, exhaustion having left you completely. It’s replaced by a newfound whirl of irritation that pools in your stomach and creeps up your throat, making you feel a little sick. It must be the coffee, you think, and you’re trying to remember if the beverage has ever made you experience this when all of a sudden there’s a hand circling your wrist.

“Stop, Y/N,” Remus says, a little breathless. You didn’t realise he’d run out after you and you feel bad about his injuries before your gaze snags on his newly tousled hair. “Godric, you walk fast.”

“I didn’t ask you to catch up to me,” you snap, purposely scowling this time. The cheeky bastard still looks amused and your irritation is growing faster than ever. “Besides, the match doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes. Plenty of time for Patricia to give you a whole new hairdo. Maybe she can give you plaits or– Why are you laughing.”

“You’re jealous,” he exhales with a smile, sounding positively delighted. Any feelings of concern have disappeared and are being rapidly replaced with wanting to thwack him upside the head. “Oh my God, you really are jealous.”

“Jealous, my arse,” you scoff, turning your back to him with every intention of speed walking out of the castle. His long legs keep up with you easily and he rushes in front of you to stop you going anywhere. You glare at him. “Leave me alone, Lupin.”

“Not until you admit that you’re jealous.” Remus is positively giddy with glee and you feel a flush of heat crawling up your neck. You set your jaw stubbornly and he’s incredulous as he shakes his head. “Merlin, you really have to argue with me on everything don’t you? I don’t care about Patricia Holloway and I’m glad you’re jealous. Means you’re less likely to break my nose when I kiss you.”

You barely get the chance to make an incoherent noise when Remus grabs you by the waist and presses his lips against yours, kissing you like he isn’t prepared to let you go anytime soon. His mouth slides hot and wet against your own and you gasp into the kiss when he nips lightly at your lip, your hands coming up to slide into his hair, making it unruly all over again.

Remus is the first to break apart, too soon, and you physically restrain yourself from chasing after his lips. He pulls back slightly, breathing fast to look into your eyes, searching for the answer you’re unable to speak yet.

“You… uh, I-I’m…” you trail off, dazed and breathless and head swirling with every emotion under the sun.

Remus laughs, pulling you impossibly close and leaving a soft kiss on your jaw, which doesn’t help your current speech issues. “If I knew that was all it took to shut you up, I’d have kissed you years ago.”

“Wha-!” You slap his arm, snapping out of the haze. You hide your current uncertainty behind a glare. It hit you like a ton of bricks, but you realised about five seconds into the kiss that you wanted Remus Lupin in every way, shape and form. You’re more than a little terrified, so what better defence mechanism than anger? “Why did you actually kiss me, you prick?”

“You are the densest, most clueless,” Remus begins, pausing to kiss you lightly a couple times when you start to scowl. “Most stubborn and most beautiful little witch I’ve ever known. And if you haven’t figured out after almost seven years that I love you, then I’m afraid we might have to admit you to St Mungo’s, because really-”

“Stop,” you whisper, lifting a finger to press against his lips, effectively silencing him. “You love me? You actually, seriously love me?”

He rolls his eyes and nods, like it’s obvious or something. You huff. “Then why have you been such an annoying pain in my bloody arse, Remus Lupin?!”

“Because,” he says, the word coming out muffled and you hastily remove your finger. “It was a good way to keep your attention. Plus, I like when you’re angry. It’s cute.”

You scowl without thinking and his smile impossibly widens.

“See?”

“Shut up and kiss me again,” you say dryly, pulling him in by the collar to give him a short, searing kiss. “Oh, and I guess I love you too.”

“So, no broken noses in my future?” Remus asks hopefully, softly sliding his nose against yours.

“No promises.”

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin ff #remus lupin fic #marauders x reader #marauders fanfic #remus x reader #remus lupin scenarios #andrew garfield x reader #remus fanfic #remus fanfiction

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4nyangnyangz · 18 days ago

Text

hey, emo boy! 🎸

synopsis: when you reconnect with your childhood best friend after finding out that he finally achieved his goal of forming a band, you’re introduced to their enigmatic guitarist—a man with an intimidating aura that both intrigues and unsettles you. a chance offer for guitar tutorial sessions brings you closer, and what begins as casual lessons quickly turns into something deeper as you exchange subtle yet intimate interactions. as your feelings grow stronger, so does the undeniable tension brewing between you, complicating a bond that was never meant to be simple.

pairings: guitarist!beomgyu x fem reader ; implied soobin x yeonjun??(just crumbs. don't expect much)

tags/warnings: smut but mostly plot, grinding, dry humping but no actual intercourse, use of pet names, strangers to lovers(?), beomgyu is whiney and gets jealous easily, soobin as y/n's roommate and kai as y/n's best friend, there might be more I forgot to mention- THIS ISN'T PROOFREAD!

wordcount: 13.8k.... i got carried away :((

fic below the cut!!

-----------------------------------

“Y/N! You awake yet?” the familiar voice of your roommate echoes through the surrounding walls of your shared apartment.

“Ugh, what does he want now....” you groan to yourself while you sit up, stretching your arms. You were just starting to wake up from what seemed like an eternal slumber.

“Yeah, what is it?” you reply while yawning, trying to imply that you literally just woke up.

“Can you please buy some eggs and bread from the mart nearby? We ran out, and I don't feel like having just bacon for breakfast.” the voice from the other side of the door responds, lowering his voice and almost muttering towards the end. You still heard it, of course.

You get up from your bed, slipping a comfy t-shirt on and tying your hair in a ponytail as you headed out of your room.

You slightly chuckle at the sight of your roommate preparing breakfast while wearing an apron with purple hearts on it. You noticed that his hair was a bit messy indicating that it hasn't been long since he woke up too, and the way the cute apron looked slightly stretched against his bigger frame, knowing he was at least 6 ft tall, wearing an apron that was clearly not made for someone of his size was quite a sight to see first thing in the morning.

“Did you hear what I said?” Soobin, your roommate, says as he shoots his sharp gaze at you while you were observing him, noticing that you looked amused at his interesting fashion choice.

“I heard you, don't worry.” you shrug. Your smile fading after seeing his clearly unamused expression. “Is there anything else you need?”

He shakes his head as a response and gets back to preparing the ingredients for breakfast.

“Alright then, I'll be right back.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” Soobin calmly says as you head back to your room to get changed.

As soon as you made it to your room, you quickly change into one of your favorite hoodies and baggy pants. You grab your phone after getting dressed and made your way out.

You were heading towards the local mart nearby where you and Soobin would often go to whenever you were missing a few items at home. You both would take turns doing housework, and it was Soobin's turn to make breakfast today so here you are, on shopping duty.

You scrolled through your phone with one hand while you stuffed the other in the pocket of your hoodie as you were walking towards the store. It was a 15 minute walk from your place, and you weren't going to get a lot of stuff, so you decided to walk. You knew you needed a bit of exercise to start your day, so this wasn't too bad.

Multiple notifications pop up at the top of the screen of your phone while you were mindlessly scrolling through Instagram. You didn't pay them much attention, until one particular notification from your best friend catches your eye.

(9+ unread messages from Hyuka)

Assuming it was something urgent, you immediately tapped on the notification popup as he isn't the type to send this much messages to you unless it's important, considering you just talked to him last night right before going to sleep. Your eyes immediately widen after reading the thread of messages he sent one after another.

Hyuka:

(hey y/n so i just woke up...)

(GUESS WHAT)

(WAIT NO DON'T ACTUALLY)

(THIS IS CRAZY???)

(YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE THIS.)

(you're the first one i'm telling this to so you better keep this a secret for now, ok?)

(I actually can't believe this, wait-)

(So remember when I kept telling you I wanted to start a band?)

(you may not know it but I personally asked a few people at school)

(AND GUESS WHAT?????)

(you've probably guessed it by now ik)

(BUT I DID IT!)

(I FINALLY FOUND PEOPLE TO START A BAND WITH)

(I can't share the full details here yet but I'll def talk to you about it when we meet, kay?)

(See you soon, y/n! <3)

Your surprised expression soon turns into a smile of relief as you could almost feel your friend breaking into your phone and appearing in front of you if he could just to share the good news with you. You knew how long he was waiting for this moment and he was just so eager about wanting to start a band so he could finally showcase his love for music, and share it with the world.

Hyuka was the nickname you gave your best friend, Huening Kai. You have been friends with him for God knows how long, even to the point where his parents would even treat you like you're part of the family and your parents would do the same for him.

You had a feeling it wouldn't be too long before he could reach his dreams, you've always known that he was a genius when it came to music. He would write the most poetic lyrics, play multiple instruments, make the most beautiful melodies, heck, he even wrote you a song for your birthday that you really liked enough to make it your ringtone at some point.

Knowing that he has finally made the first step to reaching his dreams of being in a band, made you feel nothing but proud of him. You witnessed his growth throughout the years, and you knew that he was capable of so much that the world needs to hear the songs he can come up with and know how talented he is.

Before you knew it, you already arrived at the store. You replied to your friend's messages, congratulating him before placing your phone inside the pocket of your baggy pants. You grab a small cart before heading straight to the aisle where you can find what you're looking for, since you've already memorized the structure of the place after shopping here so often.

You grabbed a tray of eggs and placed it on your cart carefully. You add in a few snacks here and there, and soon enough you get to the bread section. You just chose the usual bread that you guys have at home, plopping it unto your cart. You continued to look around, picking up some of them to take a closer look.

After much thinking, you decided to get Soobin a different type of bread aside from the ones that he will be using for the usual breakfast toast. It's a known fact for you that Soobin LOVES bread, he would always bring some home for him to munch on and share with you whenever he could.

You took your time choosing which one to get for him, especially after remembering the frown on his face during your encounter with him this morning. You thought to yourself that the stress from being student council president and having to work part-time on top of that must be getting to him, so getting him a few snacks wouldn't hurt.

You recalled Soobin's favorite had a sweet red bean filling. You also wanted to grab one custard cream filled bread for yourself. Thankfully, those two flavors were right next to each other. You extended your arm to get the bread, since they were at the very top of the shelves, yet you couldn't reach the top, even after trying to get them on your tiptoes.

Feeling a bit embarrassed at your multiple attempts but still not succeeding, you looked around, trying to find some help as it was too late to just back out from getting them. Fortunately, you had found someone in the same aisle just a few steps away from you, who at first glance was definitely tall enough to reach the top of the shelf and get them for you.

Your eyes landed on a tall and lean male with long, dark brown hair resting just right above his shoulders. His bangs were slightly covering his eyes, as he slightly lowered his head to look at the product he was holding in his right hand. You immediately notice his unique sense of fashion as he was dressed in a somewhat eye-catching way.

There were layers of silver and black accessories dangling around his wrists, and his fingers were wrapped in rings. He was dressed in an oversized black tee with a huge print of what seemed to be a band logo in the front, and black ripped jeans held together by the gray belt that was wrapped around his waist. Your eyes dropped down to his leather boots that went just up around his calf, that complemented his overall fit.

Remembering the messages you read from your best friend earlier, you immediately thought to yourself how this man you just saw looks like he would be in a band just perfectly. You couldn't help but be intimidated by the vibe he gave off. You were late to realize it but you stood there, eyeing the stranger from head to toe, slowly admiring him from a distance.

“Never seen someone that's dressed like this before?” the stranger now in front of you says nonchalantly, not even sparing you a glance while still examining the product he has been holding which immediately puts you back to your senses.

You felt blood rush to your cheeks as you blink twice and immediately shake your head, as if you just snapped out of a spell. Realizing that the stranger noticed how you were basically staring him down, you quickly rushed to defend yourself, worried that he might have misunderstood you when you had no ill intentions.

“N-no, of course not! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare... I actually think you're dressed really well. I mean, your style fits you a lot-” you ended up blabbering about how you liked his style before you even realized it. Your mind soon puts you back in your place, reminding you why you even turned to his direction in the first place.

“Wait, no, that's not why I was looking at you-” you sigh, a huge wave of embarrassment taking over you. You were lost in your words when you hear the stranger laugh, finding it adorable how you were a stuttering mess after he caught you staring at him and merely asked you a question.

He finally turns to your way, making eye contact with you and you immediately noticed his sharp features, a hint of eyeliner resting under his eyes, and with a closer look, you noticed that he has an almost angelic face despite the way he presented himself. You weren't sure if it was possible to be more flustered than before, but you were definitely not prepared to have an encounter like this in your local mart, on a random Thursday morning.

“I'm just kidding, don't worry. You just needed help with getting these, right?” he says as he walks closer to your direction, looking at the top row of the shelf.

You wanted to ask how he knew, but you could only imagine how he saw your countless attempts to get them for yourself before finally caving in and ask for help.

“Yes, please. Thank you...” is all you managed to say, looking down while feeling another wave of embarrassment crash upon you once again. You're just glad he was aware of the reason you looked to his direction, at least.

He stood right behind you as he reaches out to get what you needed. He moves his arms just above your shoulder carefully, making sure to not accidentally hit you while he picks up the packs of bread with ease.

“Here you go.”

You turn around to face him as he hands them over to you. You slightly raise your head to look at his face so you could thank him properly, and he shoots you over a smile. You felt your face getting warm after your eyes met.

“Thank you so much, and I'm sorry again, I hope you didn't get the wrong idea... I didn't mean to offend you in any way-” you start off, trying your best to dismiss the fact that the small distance between you was making you really nervous.

“I wasn't offended or anything, don't worry. I was just joking earlier, so don't take it too seriously.” he replies as he gives you a reassuring smile. You smile back at him in relief.

There was a small moment of silence as you both just stood there in front of each other, not saying anything.

“My name's Beomgyu, by the way.” the stranger introduces himself first, breaking the awkward silence.

You felt relieved and glad that awkward moment didn't last any longer. You have been feeling a bit uneasy ever since your conversation started, after all.

“What's your name, pretty?” he adds, the corner of his lips forming a slight smirk, while making sure to meet your eyes.

Getting flustered was one thing, but Beomgyu just managed to make you nervous at every point of your interaction with him. You weren't sure if it was because of his intimidating style, his unreal, almost angelic features, his deep and raspy voice calling you "pretty", the small distance between the both of you or just the idea of him flirting with you was making your heart beat faster and louder by the second, but you swore he could've heard it if you didn't answer him right away.

“I'm y/n.” you answered, smiling back at him, trying to cover up how you were feeling all sorts of emotions deep down at that moment.“You have a nice name, Beomgyu.”

He chuckles at your response and frankly sad attempt before replying, “Thank you. I like your name too, y/n. Will I be seeing you around?”

“Well, I live nearby and I usually go here when I need to get something in a hurry.” you hesitantly reply, unsure if this was the answer he was looking for.

“Great. I guess I'll start going here often then.”

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks once again from his response, and you immediately break eye contact. You attempt to laugh it off before responding.

“Sure, I might run into you again.” you mutter as you awkwardly laugh before looking away. You wouldn't even dare imagine the thought of seeing him here again.

You hear him chuckle for a bit before responding back. “I'll definitely say hi when I do. Well, I have to go now, I have practice in a few minutes. Guess I'll see you around then, y/n?”

Part of you was glad that you can finally get out of this situation, you have been feeling so overwhelmed with all sorts of emotions for a while now and you swear you felt yourself getting physically weak at some point, but a small part of you was also feeling sad that your encounter with Beomgyu had to end there, you just didn't want to admit it, of course.

“Yeah, see you around, Beomgyu. Thanks for your help, again.” you finally look back up at him and smile.

He smiles back and waves at you before turning to leave and walk away. You smiled back, waving your hands until you saw his silhouette disappear from your sight.

----------

“I'm back. Sorry to keep you waiting.” you opened the front door to your shared apartment with Soobin and soon found him lying down and facing sidewards in the small sofa that could barely fit him.

He sits up after he hears your voice and immediately reacts to the smell of his favorite bread. There were times you'd question if he was a bunny in his past life from how he acted around his favorite food.

“Did you get the red bean filled bread? Or am I just smelling things?” he looks up at you, expecting your response. You haven't seen him this alive ever since you woke up today.

You smiled while nodding as a response. He immediately gets up from the sofa and heads to your direction, rummaging through the bags of food you just brought from the store and he has a wide smile on his face after seeing that you got him his favorite bread.

“Thank you so much, y/n! You have no idea how much I needed this. Sorry for acting weird earlier, I wasn't having the best day.” he mutters while fiddling with the bread, feeling apologetic from how he acted earlier.

“That's okay. I got your back, Soobs.” you assured him as you gently tap his shoulder, letting out a small laugh as you noticed him cringe at the nickname.

You help Soobin move the stuff you brought to the fridge and decided to help out with preparing breakfast. He swiftly whipped up two servings of French toast with some bacon at the side which the both of you finished in an instant. Although your roommate wasn't the best cook, he definitely wasn't bad at cooking either. You're just glad you won't have to worry about cooking and washing the dishes for today, at least.

Soobin gets up and brings the used plates and kitchenware over to the sink, and starts washing them.

You help out in cleaning the table while he does the dishes. Teamwork makes the dream work, indeed.

“Hey, Soobin?” you start the conversation while you were both cleaning up, just to avoid any awkward silence, or at least that's what you convinced yourself. It was totally not because you couldn't stop thinking about your short encounter with Beomgyu at the store earlier.

Soobin responds with a small hum while he stays focused on washing dishes.

You hesitated for a bit. You started to question yourself whether you should bring up what happened at the store or not, but you decided to go for it anyway. It's your roommate of all people, surely he won't make a fuss about it, right?

“I'm just asking this because I'm curious, but does the name 'Beomgyu' ring a bell?” you continued, feeling a bit cautious of his response.

You heard him hum for a moment as if he was contemplating something before he finally answered.

“Beomgyu...? I would definitely remember someone with that name, but I don't think I've heard that name before. Do they go to our school?” You weren't sure why, but you felt somewhat relieved after hearing Soobin's answer.

Soobin was right. Beomgyu isn't the type of person you would forget so easily, so Soobin would surely remember Beomgyu right away when you said his name, if they actually have met before, you thought to yourself.

“No, I don't think he goes to our school. It was my first time seeing him at the store earlier. I just thought you might know who he is, since you know a lot of people at school and you visit the store more often than I do.” you explain after realizing it might have been a weird question to ask all of a sudden.

“Well, why do you ask? Does it matter if I knew who this "Beomgyu" is?” he coos, trying to analyze the situation.

Now realizing that it might have been a bad move to ask Soobin about it, you immediately stop wiping the table to look at him. You just noticed that he was done washing the dishes and he was now facing you while leaning back at the counter where the sink was.

“N-no, it's nothing. I was just curious.” you mutter, praying he wouldn't ask you any further but knowing Soobin, you knew the conversation wasn't gonna end there.

“Y/N, don't tell me....” he pauses for a bit and raises an eyebrow. “Do you li-”

(Now Playing: Ariana Grande - Daydreamin')

Before you could stop Soobin from completing his next sentence, the ringtone playing from his phone echoes through the kitchen and you let out a sigh of relief. You're just glad you didn't even have to try and end the conversation. Whoever it was, they had called just in time.

Soobin also sighs, slightly ticked off that he wasn't even able to finish his question especially after he was now curious who this Beomgyu was that you brought up out of nowhere.

He slightly taps his hands at the sides of his pants, making sure his hands were dry before picking up the phone. He opens his phone and you noticed how his eyes widened and his expression changed immediately after seeing the screen light up.

“Oh, right- I HAVE TO MEET YEONJUN HYUNG! SHIT!-” is all he managed to say while he panics for a bit before finally deciding to answer the call.

“Hyung! Sorry, have you been waiting long? I'll be right there soon!” your eyes followed Soobin as he dashed to his room, making you laugh at his antics. You weren't surprised as this wasn't the first time Soobin would act like this, especially after knowing it was from Yeonjun.

You haven't met Yeonjun yet, but you've only heard so much about him from Soobin. From what Soobin had told you, you knew that Yeonjun was a model, he was older than Soobin, and that he's someone that Soobin "owes a lot" to. That kind of explains why Soobin acts like a switch had just been flipped and he's on alert mode when it comes to Yeonjun.

You finish tidying up the table and head to the sink to wash your hands before heading back to your room and changing back into comfortable clothes.

-------------

“Here's your large iced vanilla latte, enjoy!” Soobin smiles, flashing his dimples as he gently places the drink to the small tray in front of him and hands it over to the customer. The girl standing in front of Soobin smiles back at him before taking the tray over to her table with her friends. You noticed her friends giggling and cheering for her while she makes her way back to their table. You let out a small laugh, thinking it was adorable that there are some customers who seem to like coming to the cafe just to see your roommate.

“The boss should really give you a raise. I think this is the third time I've seen that group this week.” You slightly nudged Soobin's shoulder and whispered, just enough for him to hear. He chuckles and shakes his head while feeling embarrassed, you notice his cheeks were flushed with a tint of red.

This scenario was all too familiar to you, and it wasn't a surprise that you've had multiple customers who visited the cafe for the first time, soon turned into regulars because of Soobin. As much as you didn't want to admit it, Soobin was tall and good-looking. He had the sweetest voice whenever he would talk to the customers, he had the most captivating smile that emphasized his dimples, all of which he was fully aware that he would use those to his advantage, and it worked like a charm every time.

You respected how Soobin was dedicated to his job despite being just as busy with his countless responsibilities as the Student Council President. You may have a hard time getting used to seeing this side of him, especially since he's your roommate, but you couldn't deny that he was certainly getting the job done.

You both turn towards the entrance of the cafe as the ringing of the tiny chimes hanging above the door catches your attention. Your attention is soon diverted to the tall figure entering the premises, along with two people following behind him.

“Y/N! Soobin hyung!” a familiar voice echoes throughout the cafe.

“Kai is just as cheerful as ever, huh...” Soobin whispers back, just enough for you to hear.

You greet the tall blonde with a smile, you felt your nerves immediately loosen up after seeing your best friend, Huening Kai. He was always such a comforting presence to you. It felt like the stress you've had from school and the hours of hard work you have been doing up til' now disappeared in an instant, after seeing him come to visit you.

You noticed an unfamiliar face scoot beside Hyuka, to get a better view of the menu displayed on the screen behind you. He was slightly smaller than Hyuka, he had black hair and he had boba-like round eyes that were looking eagerly at the screen, trying to decide what to order.

“I'll have an iced americano, please.” he said, turning to you with a smile. You immediately noticed how his features turned almost cat-like after you saw him smile. You smile back at him and nod, tapping on the small screen in front of you to take his order.

“How about you, Beomgyu hyung?”

You looked up at him again, thinking you might have heard him wrong.

Beomgyu? There's no way it could be the Beomgyu you thought it was, right?

You followed his gaze as he turned to the person behind him, and your eyes widened after seeing the third person standing behind the two men in front of you.

Talk about luck.

It was, indeed, the Beomgyu that you had in mind. The person you met at the store, wearing the exact same outfit you saw him in earlier. Except this time, you noticed his hair was a bit messier, his eyeliner was slightly smudged, and he wore a guitar case like a backpack, the straps looped over his shoulders and the case resting snugly against his back.

You thought to yourself that at first glance, Beomgyu does seem like the type to play the guitar, yet you couldn't help but be surprised after seeing him anyway.

“I'll just have what you're having, thanks.” he mutters while he scrolls through his phone, not even sparing the three of you a glance.

Did he not see you? Part of you had hoped for it, even though you knew that he would eventually, especially since Hyuka will be introducing you to the both of them in a bit.

You weren't too sure how to approach him now, after your first encounter at the store earlier. Should you just wait for him to talk to you first? Should you pretend to not know him? You felt the nervousness that you almost forgot about take over you again, and countless thoughts started to fill your mind.

“I feel like getting that too, so you can make that three iced americanos, y/n. Oh, and let me also get two chocolate chip cookies with that, please.” Hyuka completes their order with a smile, and you can sense that he was excited to tell you all about his new friends and the progress of their band.

You finish taking down their order and you repeat it back to them to confirm if you got everything correct before sending it over to Soobin. Hyuka gives you an approving nod and makes sure to thank you first before they head over to their table.

You head over to Soobin and you help out with preparing their order. You plated the cookies while he was in charge of the drinks.

“I don't think I've seen those guys before, are they Kai's friends from school?” Soobin asks while he fills the three empty cups with ice.

“I don't know, it's my first time seeing Hyuka with them either.” You shrug. Hyuka would usually visit the cafe by himself, and this was the first time he brought someone else that isn't his family. You glanced at their table as you continued to chat with Soobin but you immediately tensed up when you noticed that Beomgyu was looking at your direction.

Feeling embarrassed at the sudden eye contact, you immediately turned your head to Soobin, trying to hide your face that started heating up the moment you and Beomgyu's eyes met. You let out a nervous laugh as you carried on with your conversation with Soobin, hoping that Beomgyu didn't notice.

Soobin wraps up the order and nudged you to take a break in the meantime so you could catch up with Hyuka. You were about to refuse and tell him that you could do that after your shift ends in a few hours since Hyuka usually waits for you anyway, but Soobin insisted and he left to greet the next customer before you could say another word of protest.

Thankfully, it wasn't a busy day, and Soobin assured you that he could manage the work by himself. You promised him you would go back the moment it gets busy however, and he agreed. You would also cover for Soobin during the few times that he had to leave for something urgent in the middle of his shift, so Soobin would gladly cover for you too if the situation calls for it.

You took one glance at Hyuka's table and sighed. You were excited to finally catch up with your friend, but at the same time you were feeling nervous thinking about how it would go, meeting Beomgyu again like this.

You brought the tray containing the drinks and cookies they ordered and carefully placed it on their table. Hyuka gently taps on the empty seat beside him, signaling for you to come sit with them. You smiled at him before taking a seat. He shoots back a really cheeky smile at you in return.

Beomgyu clears his throat loudly, almost as if he intended to interrupt your little moment with Hyuka.

This catches your attention and you all turn to face him. You were surprised to see such a dark expression on Beomgyu's face, it looked as if he didn't want to be there.

“Alright guys, this is my best friend, Y/N. We've been friends for like, forever, that we're basically family now. Right, Y/N?”, Hyuka pauses for a moment and looks at you expectantly, and you felt a bit embarrassed, but you nod as a response, not wanting to let him down.

He smiles after seeing your reaction and continues, “And these guys, are my bandmates. The pretty one with the long hair right here is Beomgyu hyung! He's going to be our guitarist. I've only seen videos of him play before and I thought that he was really good, but after practicing with him and seeing it for myself earlier, I was even more impressed!”

You glance at Beomgyu's reaction and you noticed how he was basically turning red from the compliments and how enthusiastic Hyuka was about introducing him, that it made you giggle and he looked away while resting his chin on his palm as an attempt to cover his flushed face, feeling even more embarrassed. You were now especially curious to see how Beomgyu would play the guitar, especially after seeing your best friend shower him with praise.

“The cute one over here is Taehyun!” Hyuka adds and you look at the young man sitting across you.

“Please don't call me cute.” he looks at Hyuka straight in the eye with a serious expression which made the three of you laugh because doing that somehow just made him look even cuter.

“Alright then, my bad! The HANDSOME one, is Taehyun.” Hyuka retorts, still laughing

from Taehyun's response and emphasizing on the word handsome. “He is our vocalist! He's an amazing singer and he has exactly the perfect voice I had in mind for the songs I've made! Oh yeah, and he's the same age as us, but he's older than me for a few months so that technically makes him my hyung. But he insists that I don't call him hyung, so I just call him Taehyun.”

You and Taehyun exchanged smiles after Hyuka formally introduced you to them. You glanced at Beomgyu and your eyes met, which made you feel flustered. You still couldn't get used to Beomgyu meeting your eyes without feeling nervous.

You could make eye contact with Taehyun just fine, but not with Beomgyu for some reason, was it because you guys already met before Hyuka introduced them to you?

“And I'll be playing the drums.” Hyuka blurts out and you immediately turn to him with a surprised look on your face which makes him laugh. “What's with that look, y/n?”

“Nothing... I just thought you would be on the keyboard or you would play the guitar, too. I just never expected you to be the one to play the drums, really.” you muttered. You knew that Hyuka could play the drums, but it wasn't the instrument he played often so it was a surprise to you when he revealed that he was going to be their drummer.

He laughs before explaining that they needed a drummer, and he's the only one that could do it so he just went for it. He was just happy that he's finally formed a band, officially.

“How about you, y/n?” Beomgyu asks, and everyone's attention was on you now. “Do you play any instruments?”

“Well...” you were caught off guard by the question, and you weren't expecting Beomgyu to ask you that. You hesitate a bit before answering, “I know how to play the guitar a bit... Hyu- I mean, Kai, was the one who taught me how.”

Kai looks back at Beomgyu with an approving nod, looking quite proud of himself. Beomgyu on the other hand, raises an eyebrow, looking like he isn't satisfied with your answer.

“Really? We should play together sometime. I can teach you how, too.” he replied, raising the corner of his lips and forming a smirk.

There it goes again. You were starting to get used to the feeling of being flustered, nervous, and embarrassed whenever you spoke with Beomgyu. You immediately avoided eye contact after seeing how he responded.

“That's right, Beomgyu hyung is really good and I think he would be a great teacher. Plus, you're a fast learner so I trust you, y/n!” Hyuka adds, genuinely supportive of the idea. You saw Taehyun nod, agreeing with Hyuka. You laughed nervously, not even wanting to entertain the thought of how that would go, but you just couldn't say no to that now that everyone's basically on it. It won't turn out so badly as you're imagining it, right?

“Sure, maybe when we have some free time, I guess...” you muttered, in hopes of dismissing the topic there.

“Your number.” Beomgyu places his phone on the table, right in front of you. You look down at his phone, then back at him with a confused expression. “So I could text you when I'm free, and I can teach you how to play.”

You're just now realizing that there's no turning back, and that he was actually dead serious about this. You glance at Kai and Taehyun, trying to find some sort of way out from this, but to your surprise, you see Taehyun with a smile, giving you a thumbs up and Hyuka was covering his face with his two hands as if he was blushing, eyes wide, nodding his head furiously, urging you to go type in your number already.

Lastly, you look over to Beomgyu and he just shoots you a mischievous grin. Was this really a good idea?

You were hesitant at first, but you didn't want to make it seem like you were being forced to do it. A part of you was actually looking forward to it, you were nervous yet excited to imagine meeting up with Beomgyu, just the two of you, so he could teach you and you could play together.

You were starting to feel blood rush to your cheeks at the thought, so you immediately look down to face the screen of his phone and type down your name and number, saving your information in his contacts and quickly handing him back his phone. You were hoping they didn't notice how flushed your cheeks were.

“Y/N!” you hear Soobin's voice call you from a distance, and you turn to his direction, seeing a slight panic in his expression. You didn't realize how the cafe was starting to get full, and you took this as your chance.

“Oh no, its starting to get busier. I'm sorry, I need to get back to work, Soobin needs my help. Let's catch up next time. I'll message you later, Hyuka. See you guys around then!” you said, getting up from your chair in a rush and patting Hyuka's head before quickly heading back to help out Soobin with the workload.

Hyuka starts pouting after you pat his head, him and Taehyun starts waving at your back as you rushed to get back to work. You never noticed since you left in a hurry, but Beomgyu's expression immediately darkens after you left the table. Soobin notices this however, and catches the younger boy's glare at him, as if he did something wrong.

Soon after you arrive at the counter to help out, Soobin immediately thanks you and divides the workload.

“Was this a bad time to call you back? Sorry, it was starting to get hectic.” he whispers, feeling bad and worried at the same time, and he swore could still feel Beomgyu glaring at him then.

“No, no, it was the perfect timing. You saved me there, thanks.” you whisper back at him in relief, which makes him more confused, but he doesn't question it and the both of you continue working.

-------------

A few days have passed since Hyuka introduced Beomgyu and Taehyun to you at the cafe. Since then, you and Beomgyu have been messaging each other. He would also visit the cafe along with Taehyun and Hyuka from time to time, and you have started to feel more comfortable interacting with him, it no longer felt like you were walking on thin ice whenever you talked.

It was safe to say that you were slowly becoming good friends with Hyuka's bandmates, and Soobin also had the chance to meet them at some point. After spending some time with them for few days, you had soon found out that Hyuka and Taehyun were classmates, and it was Taehyun who asked Beomgyu, who is his roommate, to join the both of them to form a band.

Before you knew it, you fiddled with the hem of your shirt as you stood in front of the door to Beomgyu and Taehyun's apartment. You and Beomgyu both agreed that you would be meeting him today for guitar practice, since you both didn't have school and you didn't have to work during the weekends.

You open the front camera to your phone so you could fix your hair and check your outfit one more time. You didn't want to show up wearing something too extra or too simple, so you asked Soobin for help to choose an outfit. You both ultimately decided on a cropped tee, high waisted jeans, and a pair of converse high tops that matched your outfit. You also wore light makeup to complete your look.

You have been standing in the empty hallway of their apartment for a at least 10 minutes, trying to make yourself look presentable, adjusting the length of you shirt, fixing your hair, and doing a quick retouch to your makeup. You were just making sure that you looked decent, it's not like you were trying to impress anyone, right?

After a lot of hesitation, you took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell and looked around while waiting for the door to open. You felt like your heart almost dropped to the floor when the door opens after a few seconds.

You look up and see a half-awake Beomgyu running his left hand through his hair, while his right hand holds the door open. He was dressed rather comfortably, it was very different to the usual dark outfits he wore outside whenever you met him in the cafe with Hyuka and Taehyun. Beomgyu wore a plain white t-shirt under an oversized black cardigan, and a pair of black pants. You were used to seeing him in his usual dark and "emo" fashion, but seeing a different side to Beomgyu felt new, but you liked it.

He greeted you with a smile before you letting you in and you followed him to his room. You looked around while you nervously stepped inside his room as he closes the door behind you. He had a bunch of band posters surrounding the walls of his room and you noticed he had a shelf stocked with albums of his favorite artists. You saw that he had 3 guitars displayed at the corner of his room, next to a desk where he had a computer setup. You couldn't describe it very well, but Beomgyu's room felt very him.

“You can sit on my bed, I'll go get the guitar.” he says as he goes to pick up the guitar.

You nodded and sat at the edge of his bed carefully. Your eyes followed Beomgyu's back as he prepares the guitar that he will be using to teach you. You started to tense up, remembering the familiar feeling that you've had during your first encounter with him at the store, your heart was beating louder and faster, and you were starting to feel nervous again.

You weren't expecting to get nervous especially after you thought you were finally comfortable being around with him, but the idea of you and Beomgyu being alone in his room made you feel more nervous than ever.

You've been to Soobin's room before to get a few things, and you've always hung out with Hyuka in his room countless times, but why did this feel different? Why were you so nervous about being alone with Beomgyu in his room when you were just going to get guitar lessons with him? The more you tried to think rationally and calm yourself down, your mind wasn't helping you.

The edge of the bed dips down at Beomgyu's weight as he sits down cross-legged beside you, carrying the guitar and repositioning it just above his thigh.

“You okay? You look so nervous.” he says with a laugh as he looks down while tuning the strings of the guitar.

How did he know? Was it too obvious? A hundred questions filled your mind. You were worried you might be overanalyzing everything.

“Y-yeah, I'm okay. I'm just nervous because I haven't played in years.” you answer with an awkward laugh.

That was one of them, but you couldn't possibly tell Beomgyu that you were nervous because you're alone with him in his room, could you? You hoped he wouldn't question you any further.

“That's alright. I'm here to teach you, so don't worry.” he assures you, looking to your direction and he smiles after your eyes meet.

You smile back, feeling a bit relieved. Maybe you were just worrying over nothing.

“Besides, Taehyun won't be coming home today. It's just going to be the two of us.” he says with a hint of mischievousness in his tone. “You won't have to worry about making mistakes, no one's gonna hear them except for me.”

The feeling of relief didn't last long as Beomgyu's words echoed in your head like crazy. You were already nervous even before he told you that, and now you couldn't calm yourself down even if you tried. Your heart was racing and you felt your cheeks heating up.

Beomgyu notices the change in your expression, making him chuckle. You look away, feeling more embarrassed that he's teasing you about it.

“Let's start with something easy. I'll show you first.”

Beomgyu starts playing the guitar, soon switching between two chords simultaneously. You turn to him, paying attention to how he plays. He starts humming along the tune of the song as he strums up and down.

(Now Playing: 505 by Arctic Monkeys)

He plays up till the first chorus, stopping right before the second verse. You clap your hands, genuinely amazed from what you just watched. Hyuka was right. Beomgyu was really good at playing the guitar, and you just saw it for yourself.

Beomgyu chuckles and shakes his head, feeling a bit embarrassed at your reaction. He hands you over the guitar, and you follow him, crossing your right leg over your left leg, and you position the guitar on top of your thigh.

“I really haven't played in years, so don't make fun of me, okay?” you mutter and he laughs, finding you adorable.

“I won't, I swear.” he then demonstrates how to do the chords, placing his fingers on top of his arm, mimicking how he presses the string of the guitar. “These are the two chords you need to remember, first Dm, and then Em.”

You copy how he positions his fingers and apply that on your end, pressing the strings eagerly. You look at him, trying to check his expression if you were doing it right. He tilts his head slightly, muttering a silent hum before moving. He scoots over right behind you.

“Do you mind?” he asks first, and you were taken aback by his actions, but you shake your head, assuring him that you were okay.

Beomgyu leans forward, finally closing the distance between the both of you and he slowly wraps his arms around you, placing his hands on top of yours, guiding your left fingers to show you how to do the chords properly while guiding your right hand to show you the correct strumming pattern. Beomgyu hums while he plays the song again, this time showing you how to do it on your end as moves your hands gently.

You thought you would be okay, and that you wouldn't mind since he was just going to teach you how, but now you couldn't think straight. All you could think about was how he rested his chin on your shoulder, how his deep voice while he was humming along tickled your ears, how gentle his hands felt on top of yours, how you felt completely enamored with his scent and how you felt his warmth on your back as he embraced you.

You're not the type to engage in any physical activity with anyone, even with your family or your closest friends. You couldn't wrap your head around the fact that it was your first time being this intimate with someone, and it was with Beomgyu.

You had hoped he wouldn't notice how you were basically starting to sweat from the nervousness, or how the sound of your own heart beating was louder than the guitar playing in front of you. You bit your lower lip, in hopes of hiding that you were having a hard time breathing from how fast your heartbeat was going at this point.

You were quickly brought back to your senses when you felt Beomgyu stop moving your hands and you hear him laugh.

“Geez, y/n. Were you even paying attention?” he slowly pulls away, gently letting go of your hands before moving beside you, leaving you almost frozen in place. You pull yourself together, clearing your throat before responding.

“Of course I did.” you replied, trying your best to sound normal. You were still having a hard time calming down and regaining composure, but you didn't want to get more obvious by the minute.

“Really? Show me how it's done, then.” Beomgyu says, flashing a grin while crossing his arms, paying full attention to you.

You looked at him nervously one more time before looking down to check if you positioned your fingers at the fret of the guitar correctly.

“If you do well, I'll grant one wish.” he offers, and you look up at him, raising an eyebrow.

“And if I don't?” you question. He wouldn't say that without having a catch, would he?

“Hmm... if you don't,” his voice grows deeper and more serious as he pauses before slightly leaning forward, not breaking eye contact. “Then maybe I should give you a little punishment for it.” he adds, the corner of his lips curling up to form a smirk.

You stared at him for a few seconds, trying to process what he just told you. After you realized what he just said, you were about to retort him when he cut you off.

“Nah, I'm just kidding.” he pauses with a laugh before adding, “We will just have to keep going until you get it right.”

--------------

“Y/n- Y/N!”

You were immediately brought back to your senses when you started to hear Soobin's voice echo in the background, fading in as if you just started to snap out of something.

“Are you okay? What's going on? This is like the third time today that I've seen you spacing out.” he muttered as he puts his both of his hands on your shoulders while facing you, visibly worried.

“Y-yeah, I'm fine. Sorry about that.” you mutter and immediately get back to work. You hear Soobin sigh before he took his hands off of your shoulders.

You rummage through the counter before looking up to greet the customer waiting in front of you.

“Good morning! What can I get for you to-”

You weren't able to finish your sentence as you lock eyes with Beomgyu, grinning at you. You felt your cheeks go warm and your heart skip a beat.

For the past few days, you just couldn't seem to get Beomgyu out of your head, especially after your first guitar session with him. It has gotten to the point that even your roommate has noticed you spacing out multiple times, which was unusual for you since you wouldn't usually have problems focusing on work, studies and even on house chores.

You thought you needed to pull yourself together when the source of your unusual antics suddenly appeared in front of you.

“Good morning, y/n. I'll just get my usual order, thanks.” Beomgyu smiles at you, handing over the payment for his order.

“I'm on it. I'll send it to your table in a few minutes.” you smile back at him, an attempt to somehow cover up the fact that you were getting nervous again whenever you were around his presence. He nods at you as a response before heading to his table.

You turned around to get started with Beomgyu's order when you notice Soobin looking at you, raising his eyebrow as he leans on the counter with his arms crossed.

“What?” you chuckled as you question the judging expression on his face.

“I think I might have a feeling I know what has been on your mind these days since you started acting weird... or should I say, 'who'.” Soobin replies and he made sure to emphasize the last part.

“It's really nothing, Soobs. I just have a lot on my mind recently, that's all. I swear I'll do better today, so don't worry too much.” you shrug, clearly getting at what he's implying to you before leaving the counter and working on Beomgyu's order.

You knew that Soobin would be the first to notice these things, so you wanted to stop the conversation there before it turns into another nagging session from him. You were reminded of the few times you noticed how he started to act like he was your father or something, especially when you weren't being yourself. You knew he always meant well, you just weren't in the mood for it at the moment.

Soobin stared at your back as you walked away from him, his eyebrows furrowed in worry. He averts his gaze over to Beomgyu's table, and immediately gets taken aback when he sees Beomgyu glaring at him as if he was about to shoot daggers with his eyes. Soobin scoffs at the sight in disbelief.

You quickly finish Beomgyu's order, placing two chocolate chip cookies and an iced caramel macchiato onto the small tray. You slightly fixed your hair before heading to his table while carrying the tray that had his order.

As you walked towards him, you noticed that he was on his phone with wireless headphones resting on his head, covering both of his ears. Sunlight spills through the window, illuminating the little table where he was seated and perfectly emphasizing his defined features. Despite his dark-presenting exterior, you can't help but notice how his face looks so angelic. It almost felt like you were observing a painting.

He notices you getting closer and turns to you, smiling as your eyes met. You smiled back, hoping he wouldn't notice the tint of pink flushing your cheeks. He takes off his headphones and puts them down to rest on his shoulders, wrapping around his neck.

“Here's your cookies and iced caramel macchiato, Beomgyu.” you carefully place the cup of coffee and plate of cookies on the table, making sure not to spill anything or make a mess. He thanks you and smiled at him as a response.

“Let me know if you need anything else.” you say while you hold the now empty tray in your hands, about to turn around when he answered, stopping you in your tracks.

“You.”

Taken aback from his response, you looked back at him with a confused expression.

Did you mishear what he said? The grin plastered on his face when you looked back at him wasn't much help when you felt your heart skip a beat.

“Sit here with me. Let's talk for a bit.” he suggests, tapping the table as a gesture to invite you to sit down on the empty chair across him.

“Beomgyu, I'm-” you were about to decline his offer when he cuts you off.

“I know, but you always make time for us whenever we visit, and it's not that busy right now.” he looks around, observing the almost empty cafe. There were only three occupied tables, including his.

“Pretty please?” Beomgyu mutters. You were taken aback by the shift in his tone, and the change in his expression, especially how he looked up at you with almost puppy-like eyes that could convince literally anyone, you thought to yourself.

You sighed before placing the tray on the table and sat down facing him, taking him on his offer.

“Fine, but only for a few minutes, okay?”

He smiles at you before taking a sip of the coffee you prepared for him. You noticed how his eyes widened after taking a sip and he nods slowly while savoring the drink, implying that he approves of it.

You couldn't help but giggle at his reaction. Soobin usually prepares the drinks while you're in charge of the counter but today wasn't a busy day so you decided to do Beomgyu's order. You were just glad that he liked it.

“So, where's Kai and Taehyun? Don't you guys usually come together?” you asked, a hint of curiosity visible in your tone. This was the first time he came by himself so you wondered if something had happened.

“Dunno. I never got to ask them. I'm sure they wouldn't really mind, though.” he replies almost nonchalantly as he continues to sip on his drink.

Not quite the answer you were expecting to get, but you didn't question him further. You rested your chin on the palm of your hand as you turned to the glass window just beside the table. Outside, the city wakes up, people hurrying past, but here, in the small and cozy space of the cafe, time feels like it slows down. A short moment of silence fills the air.

“Aren't you going to ask me why I came here so early?” Beomgyu mutters after a while, breaking the silence.

You look at him for a moment before saying anything. He also rested his chin on the palm of his hand, except he wasn't looking out the window, but facing you directly. It was almost as if he was observing you, and silently admiring your features. The thought of him gazing at you intently sent your mind spiraling and you almost felt like your heart was going to explode.

“Alright then, why did you come here by yourself so early?”

Beomgyu leans forward, slowly closing the distance between the both of you with his face still resting on his hand.

“It's because I wanted to see you.” Beomgyu replies, still staring into your eyes. His gaze was somehow intense, yet it felt gentle. His voice was deep and soft at the same time that it almost sounded like a whisper.

You sat there with widened eyes as a fluttering sensation begins in your stomach, like tiny wings beating against the walls of your insides. A mix of excitement and nervousness runs through your veins, a feeling that is only too familiar whenever you were with Beomgyu.

Your cheeks and ears were warm and you felt a weird sensation all over your body. You swore if he could come any closer he could probably hear the raging sound of your heartbeat by now. His answer pierced through your ears, and you were once again intoxicated by the effect he had on you.

You immediately turned away, breaking eye contact before you could completely get lost in your thoughts.

“You know you could still see me even if you went with the others, right?” you respond, a desperate attempt at trying to keep calm and handle the situation you were in.

“I know, but I want you to pay attention to me, just me. This is different.” he responds almost immediately, and you could tell he was serious despite not looking at him just by the tone of his voice.

“Well, you got what you wanted, I guess...” you muttered and you heard Beomgyu chuckle at your flustered state.

Your heart flutters, each beat echoing in your ears. You glance around to make sure no one, especially Beomgyu, hasn't noticed. The feeling is both delightful and awkward, leaving you wishing to disappear and yet wanting to bask in the sensation a little longer.

“Did you two fight or something?” Beomgyu asks and you looked at him with a confused expression on his face. You noticed that he was facing towards the counter, looking at Soobin. You realize that he was probably referring to what happened earlier.

“You mean Soobin? No, we didn't.” you answered and you heard a soft hum from him as a response.

“Huh... weird. It sure seemed like it.”

“He's just looking out for me, that's all.”

“Soobin.... he's not your boyfriend, is he?” Beomgyu mutters while fiddling with the straw from the iced caramel macchiato.

You blinked, momentarily stunned by Beomgyu’s question. The idea of Soobin being your boyfriend seemed completely out of left field. For a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. You quickly shook your head, trying to clear up the confusion before it could spiral further.

“Uh… What? Soobin? No, no, of course not,” you finally stammered, trying to shake off the strange feeling of discomfort that suddenly settled in your chest.

“He's just my roommate. We're just friends, nothing more than that.”

Beomgyu looked at you for a long second, his eyes slightly narrowed as if he were searching for something you weren't saying. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he fiddled with the straw, and it clicked. It made you wonder if he was trying to figure something out, something about you, maybe.

Wait. Is he... jealous?

Your heart raced a little faster, and you couldn’t help but glance away for a second to collect your thoughts. Why was he jealous?

You had to admit, you hadn’t really expected Beomgyu to react this way. His usual carefree attitude seemed to have disappeared, replaced by something else. You couldn't ignore it anymore, the slight edge in his voice, the way his gaze kept flicking between you and Soobin, like he was trying to measure something.

“Beomgyu,” you started, your voice slightly shaky, “You don’t have to worry about Soobin. I mean, he’s just looking out for me like he always does. But there’s nothing between us, really.” You felt your cheeks heat up, and you prayed he didn’t notice how flustered you were.

His eyes flickered up to meet yours, but there was that familiar wariness in them now, like he was still trying to process what you were saying. “It just seemed like you two were...” He trailed off, unsure how to finish the thought. His eyes kept darting between you and Soobin, and you could feel his unease pressing against you.

Beomgyu cleared his throat, suddenly shifting in his seat. His eyes avoided yours now, focusing on the iced caramel macchiato in front of him as he stirred the straw absentmindedly, like he was trying to regain some composure.

“I... I didn’t mean to make things weird,” he muttered, his voice much quieter than before.“I was just asking.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone. It was as if he was backpedaling, trying to pull away from the conversation as quickly as possible.

“No, Beomgyu, it’s okay,” you said quickly, your voice a little more steady than you felt. “I just… I didn’t expect you to be so concerned. I promise, there's nothing going on between me and Soobin. You don’t need to worry.”

Beomgyu looked at you briefly, but his expression softened, his eyes a little unsure. “Yeah, I know,” he said, shifting uncomfortably.“I just... I don’t know. It seemed like you two were acting weird earlier, like—” He cut himself off, suddenly aware that he was still digging himself deeper.

“Anyway, forget I said anything. I’m probably just overthinking it.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the flustered feeling bubbling up again. It wasn’t lost on you that Beomgyu was avoiding your eyes now, his usual carefree demeanor completely replaced with a subtle, almost embarrassed unease.

You couldn’t deny it—he was definitely jealous, even if he wasn’t openly admitting it. The realization made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t expect.

You opened your mouth to say something more, to try to reassure Beomgyu that everything was fine and that his worries were unnecessary. But before you could get the words out, Soobin’s voice rang through the air, cutting off the fragile moment before it could go any further.

“Y/N!” Soobin called, his tone light but firm as he approached the counter. “Break’s over. You’re needed back at the register.”

You blinked, startled by the interruption. For a second, you felt a wave of relief wash over you, almost like you had been given an escape route before the conversation could get any more complicated. You didn’t know what you would have said next, or if you would have been able to keep your composure if the moment between you and Beomgyu had stretched on.

“Right,” you muttered quickly, the words coming out a little too fast. You shot a glance at Beomgyu, offering him a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry, I have to get back to work. My break's over.”

You were about to stand up, already feeling the pressure of the conversation lifting, when Beomgyu’s hand gently wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. His touch was warm and firm, but there was an unmistakable softness to it, like he didn’t want to let go just yet.

You froze, your heart pounding at the unexpected contact. Beomgyu’s fingers felt like they had a quiet weight to them, as though he was holding onto something that mattered more than either of you had acknowledged.

“Wait,” Beomgyu said quietly, his voice just above a whisper. His eyes met yours, and there was something deeper there, something more vulnerable than you’d ever seen from him before.

“Before you go... just... I don’t know. Don’t think I’m trying to avoid what we were talking about. I just—”

He stopped himself, like he was second-guessing his words. You could see the uncertainty in his eyes, and for a brief moment, you wondered if this was your chance to clarify things, to make sure he didn’t misinterpret everything that had been said. But then, that familiar tension crept in, the same kind of nervousness that always seemed to bubble up around him. You weren’t sure if either of you were ready for it to go deeper, but the connection between you was undeniable now.

You gave him a small, reassuring smile, trying to hide the nervousness in your chest. “I know, Beomgyu,” you said gently, your voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to explain anything. We’ll figure it out, but right now, I need to get back to work.”

You felt his grip on your wrist loosen just a little, but he didn’t let go completely. His eyes softened, and you could tell he was still thinking about something, still processing everything you had said. He seemed torn, like he didn’t want to let you leave without resolving the unspoken tension, but at the same time, he knew he had to.

“Let's talk when you come over.” he said, his voice more steady now, though there was still a hint of hesitation. “Take care of yourself, Y/N.”

You nodded quickly, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment at the way things had left off. Before you could second-guess yourself, you gently pulled your hand away from his, standing up and walking toward Soobin, who was now holding the door to the kitchen open for you.

As you passed by, you stole one last glance at Beomgyu, who was staring at the table, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of his cup. You couldn’t help but wonder what would happen next, if his feelings for you were as complicated as they seemed, or if he would keep pushing them down.

Either way, you knew that things were changing. And for better or for worse, the dynamic between you and Beomgyu had just become a lot more complicated.

For now, though, all you could do was focus on your shift. Or try to, at least.

----------------------

A few days had passed since that awkward, yet strangely intimate, conversation with Beomgyu at the café. The words you had almost said, those feelings you were still trying to figure out—kept swirling in your mind, replaying over and over. You couldn’t help but wonder if he’d thought about it the same way, if he felt anything close to what you had felt in that moment.

Today, you were standing in front of Beomgyu’s apartment door, your hand hovering nervously over the doorknob. The familiar flutter of nerves settled in your stomach, but this time, it felt different.

There was a weight to the air that hadn’t been there before—the unspoken tension between you both, lingering after that conversation at the café.

You exhaled slowly, trying to calm your racing heart. You had been looking forward to this guitar tutorial session for weeks, but now, knowing that things might not be as simple as before, it felt harder than ever.

Shaking your head, you reminded yourself that you’d be fine. It was just a guitar lesson. Just like it always was.

With a deep breath, you raised your hand to knock, but before your knuckles could meet the door, it opened.

Beomgyu stood there, looking just as you remembered: casually dressed, his hair a little messy in that endearing way, and that usual glint of mischief in his eyes. But something was different this time. There was a small pause as his eyes met yours—just a moment longer than usual, before he stepped aside to let you in.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice soft but warm, though there was still an undercurrent of something unspoken between you.

You nodded quickly, managing a small smile, though your heart was still in your throat.

“Hey, Beomgyu,” you replied, trying to sound casual as you stepped inside, your hand lightly brushing past his as you entered his apartment.

The door clicked shut behind you as you stepped into Beomgyu’s apartment, the familiar smell of his space greeting you, but today, everything felt different. The usual easy vibe between you two seemed a little distant, as if there were invisible threads tugging between you both that neither of you could quite untangle.

Beomgyu didn’t seem his usual carefree self—his usual teasing smile was replaced with something more guarded. His gaze flickered to you, hesitant, before he motioned for you to follow him.

“Let’s go to my room,” Beomgyu said quietly, standing in front of his living room with his hand on the hallway door, as if he was still trying to decide whether or not he was ready to address whatever awkwardness hung in the air.

You nodded, biting your lip as your heart raced in your chest. Was he going to bring up what happened?

Was he still thinking about that moment at the café when everything seemed to shift between you two?

You followed him down the hallway, and the closer you got to his room, the more nervous you became. The space felt smaller somehow, more intimate now that you were both stepping into it with this new, unspoken tension lingering between you.

Beomgyu pushed the door open, stepping aside to let you enter. The room was exactly as you remembered it—his bed pushed up against the far wall, a few posters of bands scattered on the walls, his guitar resting on a stand beside his desk. Everything felt oddly familiar, but the space seemed charged now, in a way it hadn’t before.

You hesitated before stepping inside, but Beomgyu quickly gestured for you to take a seat on the bed, which you did, sitting slightly at the edge.

“Uh, so... we can just start the lesson whenever,” you said, trying to keep your voice casual, not wanting to acknowledge the tension that was settling into the space between you.

But Beomgyu didn’t seem interested in starting the lesson just yet. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his arms crossed in front of his chest. There was a noticeable hesitation in his posture, a stiffness that told you he was trying to figure out what to say.

“You know,” Beomgyu started slowly, his voice quieter than usual, “I’ve been thinking about what happened at the café.”

Your stomach twisted at the mention of it, the conversation you’d tried so hard to move past resurfacing unexpectedly. You blinked, looking at him, trying to push down the flustered feeling rising in your chest.

“I, uh, I didn’t mean for it to get so weird,” he continued, his eyes not meeting yours as he fidgeted with his hands. “But I just—I don't know, I thought... maybe I was being too obvious? About, you know...” he trailed off, clearly uncomfortable, but you could hear the unease in his voice.

You quickly shook your head, trying to reassure him. “No, Beomgyu, it’s not like that. You didn’t make things weird,” you said, though you couldn’t quite hide the nerves in your voice.“It’s just... things have been a little confusing lately, that’s all.”

The words felt like they were floating in the air, hanging between you both. Beomgyu finally turned his gaze to you, and you could see the uncertainty there, the way he was searching your face for something—maybe an answer, or maybe just a sign that everything was okay.

“It’s not just that,” he said, his voice a little more serious now. “I—look, I don’t want you to think I was being jealous or anything, but... I was. And I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ve been acting like a jerk, right? I'm sorry, y/n.”

You weren’t sure how to answer, your heart hammering in your chest. Hearing him say it out loud, jealous, made something inside you tighten. Was that what this was all about? Was that why the air between you two had felt so charged, so different since that day? So he really was jealous?

“Beomgyu...” you started, trying to find the right words. “It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize. I just... I wasn’t expecting it either. I didn’t think you’d feel that way.”

Beomgyu’s gaze softened as he pushed off from the door and walked over to sit next to you on the bed.

His presence was warm, but there was still a tension there, lingering in the space between you. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly still wrestling with what he wanted to say next.

“I don’t want you to think I’m being weird,” he said, his voice quiet now, almost as if he were talking to himself. “But I don’t want things to stay awkward between us, either.”

You could feel your heart race in your chest again, the unspoken words hanging in the air, thick with all the things neither of you wanted to say outright. You shifted slightly, trying to find a way to diffuse the growing pressure between you both, to make the conversation feel lighter.

“So,” you started, voice just a little too high, “About today’s lesson... What are we working on? Did you want to go over that new song you were learning?”

Beomgyu gave a soft chuckle at your attempt to change the subject, but it wasn’t one of his usual playful laughs. This one felt a little more resigned, like he was unsure whether or not to just give in to the moment. He turned his gaze toward you, searching for something in your face.

“We can work on the song,” Beomgyu replied, but his voice still held that quiet, heavy undertone.“But, honestly, Y/N, I don’t want to avoid what’s been going on between us. I don’t think it’ll go away just by pretending everything’s fine.”

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint hum of the air conditioning, and you wondered if he was just as nervous as you were.

Finally, he sighed, and you saw his shoulders drop, as if he were gathering his courage. He walked toward you, but instead of sitting beside you, he took a step back, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Beomgyu said suddenly, his voice low but clear. The words hung in the air like a confession, and you froze, unsure of how to react.“A lot. More than I’d like to admit.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you blinked, trying to process what he was saying. He hadn’t seemed like himself lately, and the fact that he was bringing this up now, in this quiet, vulnerable moment, threw you off. Was he really about to say what you thought he was?

“You’ve been on my mind,” Beomgyu continued, his voice growing softer but more earnest. “It’s been... hard to stop thinking about what happened at the café. I didn’t mean to come off like I was... jealous, but I guess I was. And I can’t pretend anymore that I don’t feel something for you. Something more than just friendship.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you blinked at him, your mind struggling to process the weight of his words. Was he saying what you thought he was saying?

“I like you, Y/N.” Beomgyu admitted, his eyes finally meeting yours. There was no teasing, no playful glint in his gaze this time. Just honesty, raw and unguarded. “And I’ve been trying to hide it, but I can’t anymore. I... I like you more than just as a friend. I’ve been wanting to tell you, and I feel stupid that it took so long for me to say it, but I didn't know how.”

You could feel your heart pounding against your ribs as his confession hung between you two. The room suddenly felt smaller, the air thicker, and you weren’t sure if it was the proximity or the weight of his words making everything seem so intense.

“Wait... Beomgyu, I—” you started, but the words stuck in your throat. You couldn’t deny it—your heart had been racing every time he looked at you, every time you caught his gaze. The truth was, you’d always felt a pull toward him, but hearing him say it out loud made everything feel so much more real.

Beomgyu stepped closer, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to gauge how you were feeling. “I don’t want to hide it anymore. I’ve been worried, Y/N. Worried that you wouldn’t feel the same way, or that it might ruin our friendship. But I don’t want to keep pretending that I don’t want something more.”

Your chest tightened, a whirlwind of emotions crashing over you. You’d thought about this moment before, what it would be like if Beomgyu ever admitted he liked you, if he ever acknowledged the feelings that had been growing between you two. And now, standing here in his room, it was happening.

It was all unfolding right before you.

“I’m not asking for anything crazy, or for us to figure everything out right now,” Beomgyu said, his voice a little softer now. “I just needed you to know how I feel. Because it’s been eating at me, and I don’t want to keep pretending like everything is just... normal between us when it’s not. Not for me, at least.”

For a long moment, the two of you stood there, the world outside fading away as everything settled into this quiet space. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable anymore. It was filled with everything you both hadn’t been able to say before.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the rush of emotions flooding through you. There was so much you wanted to say, but the words felt tangled in your chest. You looked up at Beomgyu, his expression uncertain, but there was a vulnerability in his eyes that made your heart ache.

“Beomgyu...” you whispered, your voice soft but steady. “I’ve been thinking about you too. More than I probably should. It's gotten to the point that even Soobin noticed, and that's... that's why you thought we were fighting that day, he was just worried because I was acting so weird. God, I couldn't focus on work because you kept getting in my thoughts.”

His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, you could see a flicker of hope pass across his face. You took another breath, feeling your cheeks heat up, but you didn’t look away.

“I don’t know what this means yet,” you continued, trying to find the right words. “But I don’t want to ignore it either. I... I like you too, Beomgyu. I feel the same way.”

The words felt surreal as they left your lips, but the moment they did, the weight you hadn’t even realized you were carrying seemed to lift. There was no more confusion, no more guessing. The tension, the uncertainty, it all seemed to fade in the wake of your admission.

There was a beat of silence before his expression seemed to shift, and a mischievous grin slowly tugged at the corners of his lips. The serious mood that had filled the room suddenly felt... lighter. It was like he was shaking off the tension, returning to his usual self.

“Well, well,” Beomgyu teased, leaning forward slightly as his grin widened. “I always knew I was irresistible.”

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift. Your heart still thudded in your chest, but now you couldn’t help but laugh a little at his cocky, teasing nature returning. His usual playful energy was back in full force, and it made you feel a little more at ease. He wasn't letting this moment get heavy, and it made you realize that maybe you didn’t have to be so serious either.

“Oh my god, Beomgyu,” you muttered, trying to hide the amused smile creeping onto your face. “You’re unbelievable.”

He chuckled, sitting down beside you on the bed and nudging you with his elbow. “Nah, I’m just being honest. I mean, who wouldn’t like this face?” He exaggerated a pout, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mischievous glint.

“Alright, alright,” you said, rolling your eyes but unable to stop laughing. “We get it, you're so charming.”

As Beomgyu's teasing continued, you couldn’t help but notice something unusual. His eyes, which usually had that dark, defining line of eyeliner, were... bare. The usual sharp, bold look was missing, and for some reason, it stood out to you more than it should have.

You couldn’t help yourself—your curiosity got the best of you, and you blinked at him for a moment, distracted from his usual antics. “Wait,” you said, squinting at him. “You’re not wearing eyeliner today.”

Beomgyu froze, his playful grin faltering slightly as he looked at you, clearly surprised you’d noticed. For a brief second, he seemed unsure of what to say, and then, in true Beomgyu fashion, his mischievous smirk returned.

“Didn’t think you’d notice,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning back with an exaggerated air of casualness. “You'd have to observe my face really closely to notice something like this, though.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smile. “It’s just that, you always wear it. But today... you’re not. You didn't have eyeliner on during the last time I came, too.”

Beomgyu shrugged, his expression shifting slightly as he looked at you with a glint of something more thoughtful in his eyes.“I don’t know. Maybe I just felt like going natural today.” His voice was light, but there was a hint of something beneath the surface, something you couldn’t quite place.

You narrowed your eyes slightly, knowing he was trying to downplay it. “Uh-huh. So you just happen to forget your eyeliner... whenever you’re alone with me?”

His eyes flickered to the side, and he cleared his throat, trying to mask his slight discomfort with more teasing. “Maybe I just like the idea of being a little more... natural around you. You know, showing the real me and all that.” He looked at you with a playful grin, clearly trying to make light of the situation, but you could tell he wasn’t entirely fooling you.

You tilted your head, half-amused and half-curious.“Is that so? Or maybe you just don’t want me to see you looking too good for me.”

“Maybe I just think you’ll get too distracted if I look too good,” he shot back with a wink, though his words were softer than usual, his teasing tone lacking some of its usual edge. You couldn’t help but laugh, but you felt your cheeks flush a little.

“Right, because that’s totally what I was thinking about,” you teased back, your voice light but warm.“Honestly, I didn’t expect you to not wear eyeliner around me.”

Beomgyu grinned, leaning closer with a twinkle in his eye. “Well, now you know. And maybe you’ll get used to seeing me like this.” He reached out and poked you lightly in the side, trying to shift the conversation back to the usual playful rhythm. “Don’t be too disappointed, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, the hint of a smile still on your lips.“Disappointed? You wish.”

Beomgyu chuckled, clearly relieved that the teasing was easing the tension. “Okay, okay. Maybe I just didn’t feel like being all emo today,” he admitted, but there was a softness to his expression now, a kind of openness that made you feel like maybe this little moment meant something more.

You let out a small breath, your smile growing a little warmer. “Well, you still look good. Eyeliner or not.”

His grin widened at that, and he shrugged nonchalantly. “I mean, I already knew that.”

You both shared a quiet laugh, the conversation turning into a more comfortable banter after the initial awkwardness had melted away. Beomgyu, now fully back to his usual playful self, leaned back against the bed with his arms stretched out, looking at you with that familiar mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“So, what’s the verdict?” he asked, winking as he stretched lazily. “Am I pulling off the ‘no eyeliner’ look or what?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You look fine without it, Beomgyu. But,” you said, your fingers brushing your chin thoughtfully, “If you really want to go back to your usual style, I could always do it for you.”

Beomgyu blinked, clearly taken aback by your offer. “Huh?” he said, his expression confused but intrigued. “You want to... do my eyeliner? Like, for me?”

You tilted your head as you looked at him, feeling a little sheepish but also excited to see if you could make it work. “I mean... I really think I could do a good job,” you said, shrugging a little awkwardly. “I’ve done my fair share of makeup to know the basics.”

Beomgyu’s eyes sparkled with amusement at your suggestion, but instead of teasing you like he usually would, he simply grinned and leaned back on the bed with his arms crossed. He gave you a thoughtful look, as if weighing your words.

“You really want to try it? Alright, I won’t stop you,” he said, his voice playful and low. Rising from the bed, he walked over to his desk, spun the gaming chair around to face you, and settled into it comfortably.

You felt a small rush of pride that he wasn’t dismissing your offer, and your hands twitched with anticipation.“Yeah, I do. I mean, you’ve always done it, so I think it’d be fun to try.”

Beomgyu smiled, but there was a glint in his eyes, like he was planning something. “Alright,” he said, his tone turning casual, “If you’re going to do it, though... you’re going to need to get closer. I don’t think you can do it from over there.”

You blinked, taken aback by his suggestion, but he wasn’t giving you much time to question it. Beomgyu raised an eyebrow and shrugged, his voice casual but almost inviting.“I mean, it’s kind of hard to get a good angle from the side, right? You need to be up close.”

Your heart raced a little at the sudden proximity. You had expected this to be a bit more... casual, but you weren’t sure why it suddenly felt a little different. Still, you didn’t want to back out now. You were genuinely curious about doing his eyeliner, and there was no harm in being closer for that, right?

“Uh... I guess that makes sense,” you said, hesitating for just a moment before you moved forward.

Beomgyu, noticing your hesitation, gave you a reassuring smile and gently patted his lap. “It’s really the best angle,” he said, his voice soft but with a slight teasing edge. “You can sit on my lap, you know. I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable.”

You froze for a moment, a little unsure, but Beomgyu’s expression wasn’t demanding. It was calm, almost like he was offering an invitation instead of an expectation. He was giving you the space to say no if you wanted to.

As you hesitated, Beomgyu's eyes sparkled with amusement, and he patted his lap invitingly. “Come on, it's the only way you'll be able to get close enough to do it right,” he said, his voice low and persuasive.

You felt your face grew hotter as your heart fluttered in your chest, but you tried to brush it off as mere embarrassment.

Despite your initial reluctance, you found yourself slowly making your way towards Beomgyu, your heart racing with every step. As you hovered beside him, Beomgyu reached out and gently guided you onto his lap, his hands on your hips sending shivers down your spine. As you settled onto Beomgyu's lap, you felt a thrill of excitement mixed with a dash of nervousness. You had never done anyone's eyeliner before, and you were eager to try it out on Beomgyu.

“Okay, go ahead,” he said, his voice low and soothing as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes locked on yours. “I'm all yours, y/n.”

Your hands trembled slightly as you picked up the eyeliner, trying to focus on the task at hand. But it was impossible to ignore the warmth of Beomgyu's body beneath you, or the way his chest rose and fell with each breath.

You began to carefully line his eyes, you notice how Beomgyu's gaze never left yours, his pupils seeming to bore into your very soul. Your skin prickled with awareness, and you felt yourself getting lost in the depths of his eyes. The air around the both of you grew thick with tension, and you couldn't help but wonder if you were reading too much into the situation.

Beomgyu would occasionally ask you if you were comfortable, if you needed to adjust your position, or if he was holding you too tightly. Each time, you would reassure him that you were fine, and Beomgyu would smile at you gently. The tension between you was palpable, but it was a gentle, simmering heat, rather than a raging fire.

You wanted to do your best, to make sure the lines were perfect and the wings were even. But as you leaned in closer to Beomgyu's face, you realized that your current position wasn't ideal.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” you mutter, looking up at Beomgyu with a hint of mischief in your eyes.

Beomgyu nodded, his expression curious, and you asked,“Can I change positions? I want to get a better angle and be more comfortable.”

Beomgyu nodded again, not thinking much of it. “Yeah, sure, go ahead,” he said, his voice casual. But as soon as you started to shift your weight, Beomgyu's eyes widened in surprise.

“Wait, y/n-”

You straddle Beomgyu's lap, your legs wrapping around his hips as you settled into a more comfortable position.“I'm going to need you to stay still, Beomgyu.” you taunt, voice firm but gentle, as you leaned in closer to his face.“I don't want the eyeliner to smudge.”

Beomgyu's face went bright red as he felt your weight settle onto his lap. He hadn't expected this, and his mind was racing with thoughts he couldn't quite process. He felt a surge of excitement mixed with a dash of nervousness, but he was determined not to mess this up for you.

You noticed how Beomgyu held his breath, trying to remain still despite the turmoil inside him while you continued to work on his eyeliner. He couldn't believe what was happening, but at the same time, he didn't want it to stop. He felt your thighs wrapped around his hips, your hand holding his shoulder for support, and the way you tried to maintain your composure despite your arms clearly trembling while holding the eyeliner.

He had to fight the urge to wrap his arms around you and pull you even closer, but Beomgyu was determined to let you take the lead and set the pace. So he sat there, frozen in place, as you worked your magic on his eyeliner. His heart was pounding in his chest, but he didn't dare move, didn't dare breathe, for fear of ruining the moment.

As you continued to work on Beomgyu's eyeliner, the tension between you grew thicker and more palpable. Beomgyu's resolve to remain still and calm began to crumble, and he found himself getting more and more agitated. He couldn't take it anymore, the feeling of your thighs wrapped around his hips, your warmth and scent enveloping him, it was all too much for him. He was drunk in the thought of you, and he couldn't bring himself to hold back any longer.

“Beomgyu, I'm done-”

With a muttered curse, Beomgyu's hands shot out and wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You let out a startled gasp as you felt yourself being drawn into Beomgyu's chest, your hands still holding the eyeliner hovering in mid-air.

Beomgyu's face was buried in your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he whispered apologies and silent curses. Your heart was racing as you felt Beomgyu's warm breath on your skin, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

As you shifted in Beomgyu's lap, your eyes immediately widened after you felt Beomgyu's strained hard cock, poking your core, and you couldn't help but let out a little gasp. You tried to pull away in panic, your hands pushing against Beomgyu's chest. But Beomgyu's grip was firm, as he held you close, his body trembling with restraint, as he whispered,

“Fuck, y/n- I'm sorry.... please, don't leave.. I'm sorry, I didn't-”

You felt your resistance begin to crumble as you heard his voice, breathy and desperate. You realized that he wasn't trying to hurt you or overpower you, he was just...lost. Lost in the moment, lost in his desire for you. You let Beomgyu hold you tightly with his arms wrapped around your waist, as he tried to compose himself.

You loosen your grip on your fists, slowly moving your hands from his chest up to his shoulders, and you let Beomgyu hold you. You felt his chest rise and fall with each breath, his heart pounding against your own. You didn’t know when it happened, but slowly, you stopped fighting the heat of the moment.

Instead of feeling embarrassed or self-conscious, you started to embrace it, letting your body relax into the tension and giving yourself permission to enjoy this closeness with Beomgyu. Before you knew it, Beomgyu's touch was starting to get to you, and your mind was taking you places.

“It's okay, Beomgyu... I-” you whispered, pausing for a bit to catch your breath as you started get lost in the situation too. “I'm not going anywhere.”

Beomgyu's lips were still brushing against your neck, his warm breath on your skin sending shivers down your spine. The warmth in your body only grew as time passes, the both of you not uttering another word but your heavy breaths filled the air.

Your thoughts were racing, and a crazy idea suddenly pops up in your head. You hesitated for a moment, before biting your lip and leaning closer to him. Beomgyu feels you shift in his lap and your grip on his shoulder start to tighten.

“Um.. Do you want me to move..?” you asked him, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to hide your face in embarrassment.

Beomgyu's eyes snapped to yours, and he looked at you, feeling dazed with a mix of surprise and gratitude. “No, it's okay,” he said, his voice still low and husky. “I'll just...ah, try to calm down.”

You struggled to meet his gaze, feeling your cheeks heating up. “No, I-I want to..... let me help you, Beomgyu.”

Beomgyu's face turns red, and he looked like he was about to die from embarrassment. His lips parted for a moment to say something but he stopped himself before could. He looks at you straight in the eyes and you could physically feel yourself get weak, the ache in your already wet cunt only growing as he observed the mix of curiosity and eagerness in your expression.

After a few seconds, he nodded while his eyes were still locked onto yours. “Okay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Please, y/n... I need you.”

The sight of the desperation in his face and his breathy, apologetic voice was more than enough to ignite the flame that was already burning inside of you. You held him closer, resting your chin on top of his head attempting to relieve the heat in your core as you tried to tighten the embrace of your thighs on his hips.

The slight movement from you sends a jolt in Beomgyu's body, and he bites his lip, trying to keep himself from being too loud as he holds you closer and buries his face on your chest. You let out a small gasp, your cheeks heating up as you carefully adjust your position, feeling his hard-on press onto your underwear from below your skirt, the friction driving the both of you crazy.

“Y-you sure about this, y/n? We really don't have to do this if you-” Beomgyu asks hesitantly as he looks up to you, with a look of guilt and embarrassment visible on his face.

“Yes, Beomgyu. I want to do this with you.” You replied with a smile, trying to mask the fact that you were also nervous about what was going to happen next, but you didn't want Beomgyu to think you were unsure.

You started off by moving slowly, trying to test the waters first while asking Beomgyu every now and then if you were doing okay, you wanted to make sure that you were matching his pace and the both of you were feeling good. You kept one of your hands on his shoulders, and you moved your other hand on top of his, that was holding your waist.

“Beomgyu..” you whisper, catching your breath before finishing your sentence and pressing his hand on your waist tighter. “Y-you can move..me- if you want..”

Beomgyu nods before leaning his head back on his gaming chair, grunting and hissing in pleasure. His grip on your waist gets tighter and more desperate as he moves you to grind on him back and forth.

The wetness of your cunt leaking through your panties, mixed with Beomgyu's precum that was already staining his pants, felt more prominent and made it easier for you to move yourself on top of him. The friction in itself was already driving you crazy, but it still wasn't enough. You wanted to do more for Beomgyu, and you needed more of him.

Beomgyu would give you praises through it, he would tell you how beautiful you looked and how good you were making him feel, and before you even realized, you were already drowning in the feeling of ecstasy.

Your heavy breaths soon turned into whines of pleasure, the feeling of desperation and need for each other was constantly growing. You felt your movements get sloppier by the minute as you felt yourself about to reach your high.

“Shit, y/n... I'm close... you're doing so good for me.” Beomgyu mutters while he starts to move your hips against him faster and more aggressively, looking straight into you with half-lidded eyes. You match his pace, gripping his shoulders tighter as you continues to chase out your high.

“M-me too, Beomgyu...” You replied as you ran one hand through his messy hair. The way he calls your name with his deep voice echoes through your ears and the fucked-out look on his face only riled you up even more. You swore you could feel yourself release then and there.

You slightly tilted your head, and Beomgyu immediately catches your drift, closing his eyes as you leaned in closer to kiss him when-

Knock, knock.

“Beomgyu hyung, we're here.” a familiar voice mutters from outside Beomgyu's room, just behind the door.

“Beomgyu hyung! I brought pizza~ is y/n here yet?” another voice exclaims, and you heard footsteps coming from outside the door. You were certain that it came from Kai, while the voice before him was certainly none other than Taehyun's.

You and Beomgyu immediately stopped what you were doing and froze in place with your eyes wide open, as if you both just snapped out of a trance. Beomgyu's expression suddenly shifts after his sudden realization of what was going on.

“Oh fuck, I forgot I invited them to come over today...”

-------------------

taglist: @tubasmiracle @tyunzznluvr @interestellear-blog @no1likemybbgcharlie @hyunelixbun @dawngyu this fic is dedicated to my lovely supportive moots <333 lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!!

#txt #tomorrow x together #txt x reader #txt fanfic #txt hard thoughts #txt thoughts #txt imagines #txt smut #txt beomgyu #beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x you #beomgyu smut #beomgyu scenarios

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