#it doesn’t even feel like music anymore it feels like it’s a part of me now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

frozenmxngo · 14 hours ago

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✧*̥˚ In Between the Lines | Choi Beomgyu *̥˚✧ pt. 2

✧ beomgyu x selective mutism fem!reader ✧ part two, word count 12.6k ✧ summary: y/n, a university student with selective mutism, finding solace in solitude. when beomgyu, a curious music student, starts noticing her, their paths cross, and he learns to navigate her silence. ✧ warnings: panic attacks, social anxiety, mute!reader, swearing, angst, verbal abuse, eventual smut, virgin!reader, slow burn?, trauma, fluff, a bit of self-hatred (let me know if i missed anything! i’ll add more tags for each part as needed)

✧ an: so sorry for the delay in getting this part out!! it’s been such a busy week! the next part should be out much sooner than this one. thank you!!

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Jiwon shifts the car into park but doesn’t move to get out, slumping back in her seat with a dramatic groan.

"I don’t wanna leave—it’s too warm in here."

Y/N glances at her, amused, as she adjusts the scarf wrapped snugly around her neck. Outside, the late fall air is crisp, biting at the windows, but inside the car, the heater hums softly, wrapping them in a comfortable warmth.

Jiwon turns her head, eyeing Y/N’s outfit with clear disapproval. “Are you seriously wearing that?” She gestures at Y/N’s lightweight jacket. “It’s freezing.”

Y/N tugs at her scarf in response, as if to prove a point.

Jiwon scoffs. “Oh, right. A scarf. That’ll totally keep you from freezing to death.” She shakes her head, muttering under her breath. “Not my problem when you get sick.”

Despite her complaints, she doesn’t open the door. Neither does Y/N. The cold can wait.

Jiwon exhales, watching the windows slowly fog up around the edges. "You know," she muses, stretching her hands toward the vents as if savoring the last bit of warmth, "We could just sit here forever. Never leave. Live off drive-thru coffee and—” she glances at Y/N’s lap, “—whatever snacks you’ve got stashed in your bag.”

Y/N raises a brow, shifting her tote closer like she’s protecting its contents.

Jiwon snorts. “Yeah, okay, maybe not the best long-term plan.” She stares out at the shop’s glowing windows, then groans. “Alright, let’s do this before I change my mind.”

Jiwon finally shuts off the engine with a dramatic sigh, the warm air from the vents fading almost instantly. Shoving the car door open, she’s immediately met with a gust of cold wind, making her pull her coat tighter around herself. "I swear, winter’s creeping up earlier every year," she mutters.

Y/N tucks her chin into her scarf as she follows, her breath visible in the brisk air. Her steps quickened not wanting to be in the cold anymore. The shop's exterior is a little worn, the old wooden sign swinging slightly from the breeze. A warm glow spills out from the large display window, casting a soft light over an assortment of vintage trinkets and aged books.

The moment they step inside, a bell chimes overhead, and the scent of old paper, polished wood, and something vaguely floral greets them. The warmth is instant, a stark contrast to the chilly air outside.

“Oh, this place is so cool,” Jiwon whispers, even though there’s no reason to be quiet. She’s already scanning the shelves, her eyes flicking over each item with barely contained excitement.

Y/N simply nods, her fingers brushing over the spines of a few worn books on a nearby shelf. She likes places like this—quiet, filled with history. Jiwon is already a few steps ahead, eyes darting eagerly over the shelves. “God, I love this. Everything feels like it has a story, you know?” She reaches for an ornate picture frame, tilting it in her hands before wrinkling her nose. “Okay, but some of this stuff definitely looks haunted.” Y/N huffs out a quiet laugh, trailing behind her. Trinkets, books, and vintage furniture are stacked in organized chaos, making it easy to get lost in the maze of shelves and displays.

Jiwon picks up a tiny porcelain cat figurine and grins. “This looks like you.”

Y/N tilts her head, taking in the tiny, wide-eyed cat with its little paws tucked under its chest. She quirks a brow but doesn’t disagree.

Jiwon chuckles and sets it back down before moving deeper into the store. “I’m looking for something cool for my apartment. Help me look.”

Y/N follows, her fingers trailing absentmindedly over an antique jewelry box, the cool metal intricate beneath her touch. Her phone buzzes in her pocket, and she pulls it out to see a new message.

Beomgyu: Hope you’re staying warm and safe out there. It’s freezing today Beomgyu: (:

Y/N hesitates, thumb hovering over the screen. She doesn’t know why, but a small smile tugs at her lips. Y/N: I am! I hope you are too?? Jiwon suddenly appears in front of her, grinning as she holds up an old wristwatch with a cracked leather band. "What do you think? Vintage chic or just plain busted?" she asks, spinning it around her finger.

Y/N quickly locks her phone and slips it into her pocket before Jiwon can catch on. She leans in slightly, pretending to inspect the watch with a thoughtful expression, buying herself a moment to dodge the inevitable teasing.

"You could probably get a new strap for it… I think it’s cute," Y/N murmurs to Jiwon. Jiwon smiles softly, nodding as she turns the watch over in her hands. “Yeah, you’re right. A new strap would fix it up.”

She doesn’t comment on Y/N speaking—she never does. The last thing she wants is to make her friend self-conscious. Instead, she just gives a small, approving nod before carefully setting the watch back down.

“Alright, let’s keep looking. I bet there’s something weird and amazing hidden in here somewhere,” Jiwon says, eyes already scanning the shelves with excitement.

Y/N tilts her head slightly as Jiwon sets the watch back down. “Oh… you don’t want it?” she asks quietly.

Jiwon just smiles, giving a small shake of her head before moving on. She does this all the time—picking things up, admiring them for a moment, then setting them aside like she was never interested in the first place.

Y/N follows, tucking her hands into her sleeves. Just before she turns away, her gaze lingers on the watch—just for a moment, as if committing it to memory. It was a cute watch. Jiwon leads the way, weaving through narrow aisles packed with old furniture, faded paintings, and shelves lined with knickknacks from decades past. She picks up a porcelain doll with frizzy hair and exaggerated eyes, turning it toward Y/N with a mischievous grin.

“This thing is definitely haunted,” she says, wiggling it slightly for effect.

Y/N eyes the doll warily before glancing at Jiwon with a raised brow. “Are you going to pick everything up and say it’s haunted?”

Jiwon gasps dramatically and clutches the doll to her chest.“Excuse me, but I have a very keen sixth sense for cursed objects.”

Y/N just shakes her head as Jiwon laughs, setting the doll down before moving toward another display. They pass by a collection of antique cameras, their metal bodies worn but still holding a certain charm. Jiwon snaps an imaginary photo at Y/N with her fingers. "Imagine how many embarrassing pictures these things must've taken," she muses. "Like, someone's great-grandpa probably had a secret stash of goofy photos, and now they’re just... lost in time."

Y/N hums in quiet agreement, her fingers brushing over the wooden frame of an old radio. The dials are rusted, and she wonders if it still works.

Jiwon’s grin turns wicked, eyes glinting with mischief. “Or maybe some sexy ones,” she wiggles her eyebrows.

Y/N’s face immediately turns red, a rush of heat flooding her cheeks. She quickly looks away, trying to shake off the thought. “Don’t be weird,” she mutters under her breath.

Jiwon laughs, clearly enjoying the effect she has on her friend, before moving on to browse more items, leaving Y/N to hide her flustered expression.

Further into the store, Jiwon stops at a glass case of jewelry—tarnished rings, delicate lockets, and brooches adorned with tiny painted portraits. Y/N steps closer, her eyes following Jiwon’s gaze to the delicate items displayed inside the case. She runs her fingers lightly over the glass, admiring the soft glow of the tarnished rings and the intricate designs on the brooches. “They all look so... old,” Y/N says quietly, her voice almost lost in the hum of the store’s ambient noise.

Jiwon chuckles, her fingers tracing the outline of a small locket. “That’s the charm of it. Things have stories, you know? I bet these pieces have been passed down through generations.”

Y/N moves her face closer to the glass, studying the locket Jiwon is eyeing. “Do you think anyone ever knew the stories behind them?”

Jiwon grins, her eyes gleaming. “Maybe some, maybe none. But the mystery is part of the fun.” Y/N smiles faintly, the thought of those small, forgotten moments lingering in her mind. There's something comforting about the idea that these objects once held meaning for someone—somewhere, at some point.

They wander further into the store, where Jiwon suddenly stops in front of a display of vintage lamps. The soft glow from the glass shades catches her attention, and she leans in, inspecting one of the lamps with a thoughtful expression. “I’ve been looking for something like this for my apartment,” she says, running her fingers over the smooth surface. “It’s perfect, don’t you think?”

Y/N nods in agreement, glancing over at the lamp with a soft smile. Jiwon’s taste was always a bit more adventurous than her own, but she could see why this one appealed to her.

The sudden buzz of her phone interrupts her thoughts. She pulls it out, her fingers brushing against the screen as Beomgyu’s message pops up.

Beomgyu: I am! I’m staying inside today. What are your plans?

Y/N types her response quickly, then hits send.

Y/N: Just out with my friend at an antique store

She glances up from her phone to see Jiwon picking up another lamp, her eyes lit up with excitement. Y/N watches her for a moment, a small smile tugging at her lips. Beomgyu: Was her name Jiwon?

He remembers Y/N mentioning her best friend in passing during their chat at the library. He just wanted to confirm. Y/N’s eyes linger on the message, her heart giving a small, unexpected flutter. He remembered. The thought settles warmly in her chest, pulling a soft smile to her lips She doesn’t hesitate this time as she types her reply. Y/N: Yes~! Y/N pauses for a moment, biting her lip as she thinks about what else to say. She wants to keep the conversation going but doesn’t want to overthink it.Y/N: It’s nice to get out of the house for a bit. What about you? What’s your day looking like? Jiwon watches Y/N from the corner of her eye, a soft smile playing on her lips as she notices how at ease she looks while texting. It's subtle, but Jiwon is genuinely happy that her friend is reaching out and talking to people outside of their little circle.

Y/N, oblivious to Jiwon’s quiet approval, glances at her phone one last time before slipping it back into her pocket. She’s not quite sure what to make of the conversation, but there's a warmth in her chest—something she hasn’t felt in a while.

The store feels quieter now, the moment hanging between them. Y/N looks at the lamps again, but the thought of her conversation with Beomgyu lingers in the back of her mind, making her smile faintly. Jiwon picks up a lamp with a light green, smooth glass base that mimics the soft curves of a flower’s stem. The base transitions into a delicate, clear glass shade at the top, shaped like a flared tulip. The edges of the shade are gently kissed with subtle gold accents, giving it a touch of elegance. When the light flickers on, the soft glow illuminates the lamp, creating a warm, inviting atmosphere.

“This is perfect,” Jiwon says, her eyes lighting up as she cradles the lamp carefully. “It’ll look great in my apartment.”

Y/N smiles, admiring how the lamp seems to reflect Jiwon’s style—gentle, refined, and a little whimsical. She watches as Jiwon heads toward the counter to check out, still holding the lamp with a proud grin.

As the two stood at the counter, Jiwon flashed the old woman a quick smile. “One second, please,” she said, before hurrying off toward the area where she’d seen the wristwatch earlier.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably, her gaze flickering around the small store. The old woman behind the counter eyed her for a moment before speaking up with a forced smile. “It’s always nice to see someone appreciate the old things,” she said, trying to break the silence.

Y/N offered a polite nod, not sure what to say, but the old woman’s smile faltered slightly. She cleared her throat, giving a soft sigh as she added, “Not much of a talker, are you?”

The words stung more than Y/N had expected, and she quickly looked away, her face heating up. The old woman seemed to notice the awkwardness but didn’t press further. Instead, she just returned to her task, a quiet tension settling in the air as Y/N waited for Jiwon to return. Jiwon returned moments later, holding the watch in her hands with a pleased grin. She placed it on the counter, making a show of glancing at Y/N with a playful glint in her eyes. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” she said, looking at the old woman. “I’ll take this as well, please.”

The old woman gave a half-smile as she began to ring it up, her eyes flickering over to Y/N one more time before turning her attention back to Jiwon. Y/N could tell the woman was still a little put off by her silence, but Jiwon didn’t seem to notice, lost in her excitement over the watch and lamp.

Y/N stayed quiet, her hands tucked into her sleeves as she watched the exchange. She felt a little out of place, standing there while Jiwon and the old woman spoke, but she didn’t mind. She was used to moments like these, where she just let the world pass by without having to contribute too much.

Jiwon turned to her with a mischievous grin as the woman handed over the bag. “You ready to go?” Her voice was light and warm.

Y/N smiled shyly, nodding her head yes.

With the watch and lamp safely in a paper bag, Jiwon led the way out of the shop, the doorbell chiming softly as they stepped into the crisp air once again. Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine as the cold hit her, the sudden contrast from the warmth of the store. The car, now parked for a while, was freezing inside. The leather seats felt cool and unwelcoming as Y/N slid into the passenger seat, pulling her jacket tighter around herself.

Jiwon climbed in, shivering a little as she started the engine. “Ugh, I need it to be summer right now,” she muttered, rubbing her hands together. She adjusted the heater, and the car began to warm up slowly, the chill gradually easing. After another sigh, Jiwon began to pull out of the parking lot and drive to her apartment. Y/N glanced out the window, watching the city streets blur past them. The warmth of the antique shop had faded quickly, replaced by the biting cold that clung to her even inside the car. She tucked her hands into her sleeves, shivering slightly.

Jiwon shot her a knowing look. "It’s freezing now, huh? We were in there forever." She cranked up the heat, taking her hands off the steering wheel, rubbing her hands together for a few seconds. "You’re gonna love my apartment, it looks way different from last time you’ve seen it. It’s a little messy, but it’s cozy, and I made sure to stock up on snacks for tonight."

Y/N offered a small smile.

The drive was peaceful, the city lights casting a soft glow through the windshield. The hum of the engine mixed with the occasional murmur of the radio, creating a quiet that felt comfortable rather than empty. By the time they reached Jiwon’s building, the car had finally warmed up, making it even harder to step back into the cold.

The wind nipped at their cheeks as they hurried inside, climbing the stairs to Jiwon’s apartment. It was just as Y/N remembered—scattered books, mismatched throw blankets, and walls covered in photos and art. The space felt lived-in, warm in a way that made it easy to relax. The only difference was the fact that there was more decor scattered around.

Jiwon placed the bag onto the coffee table before peeling off her coat. "Make yourself at home," she said, already moving toward the kitchen. "You want tea or something?"

Y/N settled onto the couch, letting out a quiet breath. "Tea sounds good."

As Jiwon busied herself in the kitchen, Y/N realized she hadn’t checked her phone since last texting Beomgyu. Fishing it out of her pocket, she glanced at the notifications on her lock screen.

Beomgyu: Probably just hanging out with my roommate, destroying him in video games as usual lol Beomgyu: You got plans after shopping? Beomgyu: Update… he’s officially the worst. It’s almost too easy

A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. She quickly unlocked her phone to type a reply.

Y/N: Loll glad you're having fun humbling him. Y/N: I’m just having a sleepover with Jiwon tonight.

The apartment was calm, the soft clinking of mugs and the distant hum of the kettle filling the space. Jiwon returned from the kitchen, handing Y/N a warm mug before settling onto the couch beside her. “Chamomile tea,” she said, taking a sip of her own. “It felt like the right choice.”

Y/N held the cup between her hands, letting the warmth seep into her fingers. She eyed Jiwon skeptically. “Doesn’t chamomile make you sleepy? I thought we were supposed to stay up all night… This might be a challenge for me, considering I already fall asleep easily.”

Jiwon snorted. “Okay, maybe I didn’t think that through. But hey, at least we’ll be relaxed.”

Before Y/N could respond, her phone buzzed again beside her. She glanced down and saw Beomgyu’s name on the screen.

Beomgyu: Honestly, my roommate might need a few pointers at this rate Beomgyu: What are you guys up to now?

A small smile tugged at her lips once more as she typed back.

Y/N: Just got to Jiwon’s place. Probably picking a movie soon.

As she hit send, she noticed Jiwon watching her over the rim of her mug, a hint of amusement in her eyes.

“You’ve been on your phone a lot,” Jiwon remarked casually, setting her drink down.

Y/N hesitated, then placed her phone beside her. “…It’s just Beomgyu.” Jiwon raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across her face. “Just Beomgyu?” she echoed, drawing out the word as she set her mug down. “You don’t text anyone back this fast, not even me.”

Y/N opened her mouth to argue but quickly shut it, feeling her face warm.

Jiwon gasped, eyes twinkling. “Oh my god. You like talking to him.”

Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Stop.”

“I knew it!” Jiwon clapped her hands together in triumph. “This is so cute. My best friend, texting a cute boy, smiling at her phone…” She sighed dramatically, leaning back against the couch like this was the greatest revelation of the year.

Y/N peeked at her through her fingers, shaking her head, but she couldn’t fight the small smile on her lips. With a sigh, she lowered her hands to her lap and mumbled, “How did you even know he was cute?”

Jiwon grinned. “I do now.”

Y/N’s face burned even hotter as Jiwon burst into laughter.

Jiwon’s laughter finally faded as she took another sip of her tea, though the amused glint in her eyes remained. She nudged Y/N’s foot with her own. “Alright, alright, I’ll back off… for now.”

But just as Y/N started to relax, Jiwon smirked. “But—if you ever need help picking out a cute outfit for a date, I better be the first person you call.” Y/N groaned softly, dropping her head back against the couch. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”

Jiwon grinned. “Nope. That’s what best friends are for.” She reached for the remote, flipping through movie options. “Now, before you turn into a puddle of embarrassment, let’s pick a movie. Horror or rom-com?”

Y/N gave her a look. “Those are very different moods.”

Jiwon shrugged. “Yeah, but I could go for either. Something scary to keep us awake, or something ridiculously cheesy so I can make fun of it the whole time.”

Y/N tucked her legs beneath her, glancing at the screen as Jiwon scrolled through the options. “Let’s just pick something already.”

Jiwon smirked. “Impatient, huh? Alright, horror it is.” She clicked on a movie without hesitation. “This one’s supposed to be terrifying. Hope you don’t regret it.”

Y/N pulled a blanket over her lap. “Doubt it.”

As the movie started, the dim lighting in the apartment made the eerie atmosphere even more intense. The occasional sound of the wind outside only added to the effect. For the most part, Y/N stayed quiet, while Jiwon reacted to every tense moment—gasping, groaning, and muttering under her breath when a character made a dumb decision.

Then, a sudden jump scare made them both flinch.

Jiwon immediately grabbed Y/N’s arm, letting out a dramatic gasp. “Okay, I take it back. Maybe we should’ve gone with the cheesy rom-com.”

Y/N shook her head, biting back a smile.

Jiwon sighed in defeat, but she didn’t let go of Y/N’s arm as she settled back against the couch. “Fine. But if I have nightmares, you’re staying up with me.”

Y/N just nudged her lightly, focusing back on the screen. Despite the lingering tension of the movie, there was something comforting about sitting here like this—warm, safe, and completely at ease.

The library was quiet except for the low murmur of other students working, mixing with the occasional rustle of pages. Beomgyu had been trying to focus on the textbook in front of him, but his mind kept wandering. His eyes kept drifting toward Y/N, who sat across from him, completely engrossed in her reading. She was so calm, her focus unwavering as she flipped through the pages of her textbook.

Beomgyu was usually a strong student in psychology, but tonight he couldn’t concentrate. The steady rhythm of her pen as she highlighted key sections of the text was oddly soothing, and he found himself getting caught up in the way she moved, the way she seemed so perfectly in control of everything.

He shook his head and tried to refocus, but the words on the page started blurring again. It was frustrating. He wasn’t used to being distracted like this.

Finally, after several minutes of futile attempts to concentrate, he let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair. He glanced at her again, his curiosity getting the better of him. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, and there was a small, faint smile playing on her lips as she jotted something down in her notebook.

He couldn’t help it—he just had to know.

“Are you struggling with this section too, or is it just me?” Beomgyu asked, trying to keep his voice light.

Y/N didn’t answer right away. Instead, she set down her pen, opened her notebook, and quickly scribbled something in her neat handwriting. She slid the notebook across the table toward him without a word.

Beomgyu picked it up, reading the message she’d written.

It’s a bit confusing, but I think the key is focusing on the major theories first. He smiled, grateful for her help. “Yeah, I was getting caught up in all the little details,” he said softly, glancing over at her. She looked up for a moment, meeting his eyes briefly before returning to her work, and Beomgyu couldn’t help but feel a little warmth in his chest. For the next few minutes, he tried to focus again. Beomgyu’s eyes flicked between the multiple-choice questions and Y/N. His pen hovered over the page as his mind wandered. The questions were easy, but it was hard to focus when she was sitting across from him. He could hear his own thoughts growing louder in his head, frustrated at how easily he was being distracted.

Finally, after a long pause, he asked, "What do you think about the multiple-choice questions?"

Y/N didn’t respond with words. Instead, she stood up, her movements smooth and deliberate as she walked over to him and sat down beside him. It would be easier to work on the questions together if they were sitting right next to each other. Beomgyu’s heart skipped a beat at how close she was now. She smelled light and fresh—something faint but calming—and it made it even harder for him to focus. Beomgyu swallowed, trying to ignore the way his heart raced at the proximity. He tried to focus on the homework again, but with Y/N sitting so close now, the words on the page seemed to blur into mush.

After a moment of trying to focus, Beomgyu asked, "What do you think about number five? I keep going back and forth on it.”

Y/N wrote something quickly in her notebook and then slid it over to him. Beomgyu leaned in slightly to read her answer. His breath caught when he realized how close they were—his shoulder brushing hers, their arms almost touching. It made his heart race.

He nodded, trying to keep his voice steady. “You’re probably right,” he murmured. “I guess I’m just overthinking it.”

Y/N didn’t reply, but she gave him a small, almost imperceptible smile before returning to her work. Beomgyu couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth in his chest. Something about the way she interacted with him—quiet but still so present.

For a moment, he just watched her, his mind caught between wanting to say something and the sudden wave of nerves that had settled in his stomach. He was usually confident around anyone—he never had trouble striking up conversations—but for some reason, this felt different. His usual confidence was slipping away. The more he tried to think of something to say, the more nervous he felt. He wasn’t sure what had changed, but he was beginning to wonder why he was suddenly acting like this around her.

He opened his mouth, wanting to ask her about the weekend—maybe invite her to grab a bite to eat—but the words didn’t come. He closed his mouth and immediately regretted it, his hand instinctively rubbing the back of his neck.

Just as he was about to chicken out entirely, Y/N wrote something in her notebook and slid it toward him. He blinked at the words she had written. Number six is confusing me... Is it B or C? He was momentarily relieved by the shift in focus. She needed help with a question, not a complicated invitation. He looked over the question, his mind grounding itself in something familiar. “Ah, okay, I see what you’re thinking. It’s C,” he said, pointing to the answer. “You’re probably getting caught up in the wording, but trust me on this one.” Y/N nodded as she wrote a quick “Thanks” and returned her focus to the paper. Beomgyu couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. It was simple, this moment—just helping her out—but it felt oddly… comforting. Even though his nerves were still buzzing under the surface, he was thankful for the small connection. They spent a while in quiet focus, only the sound of pens scratching on paper and the occasional shuffle of pages filling the air. Beomgyu found himself getting more into the homework as they worked together, though his attention still wandered toward Y/N from time to time. Her concentration was captivating; she’d pause every now and then to jot something down in her notebook or glance at him for a brief moment, but she never seemed rushed. There was a calmness about her that made everything feel... easier. Even the homework.

Every so often, Beomgyu would ask her if she was okay with a particular question or if she needed help with anything. Her response would always come in the form of a few words written neatly in her notebook or nodding. They worked well together, silently communicating as they made their way through the pages, and somehow, the time slipped by without either of them noticing.

By the time they finished, Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head with a quiet groan. “Man, that took way longer than I thought,” he muttered, glancing over at Y/N. “I think I might’ve over complicated some of those answers.”

Y/N didn't speak, but she gave a small smile, the kind that didn’t require any words to understand. Beomgyu felt his chest warm at the sight of it, and for a moment, everything just felt… simple. It felt right. They’d been sitting together like this for a while now, the distance between them comfortable, not awkward. It was as if they didn’t need to fill every silence with words—there was something just as meaningful in the quiet.

He looked down at his notebook, fingers tapping on the edge of the page as he tried to gather the courage. His heart still beat a little too fast, his words feeling a little too heavy in his mouth. Normally, Beomgyu didn’t hesitate to ask anyone to hang out, but there was something different about asking Y/N. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Finally, after a beat of silence, he turned to her again, his voice a little less steady than he intended. “Hey,” he started, trying to sound casual, “I was thinking of hanging out with Taehyun this weekend. Would you like to join us? I don’t know, maybe grab something to eat or do something fun? No pressure or anything, just thought it might be nice.”

He immediately regretted the way the words came out. He hadn’t meant to sound so unsure. Beomgyu didn’t get nervous about asking people to hang out, but something about her sitting so close, had him second-guessing himself. His mind was racing. Why did I mention Taehyun? Beomgyu's stomach twisted slightly. He wondered if it might make things awkward, or if the idea of hanging out with two guys might overwhelm her. Maybe she’d feel uncomfortable with a group. He quickly pushed the thoughts aside, not wanting to overthink it. He waited for her response, he glanced at her, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the table. Y/N hesitated, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of her notebook. She felt her face flush, warmth spreading through her cheeks as she tried to calm her racing heart. The thought of spending more time with Beomgyu was exciting but also made her self-conscious. After a few seconds of internal debate, she grabbed her notebook and scribbled her answer quickly, trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach. Her handwriting was a bit messier than usual, the nerves making her pen waver slightly across the paper.

I work until 2 pm on Saturday, but I would like to.

She held her breath for a moment, watching as Beomgyu’s gaze flickered from her words to her face. His eyes softened, and for a brief second, she caught a glimpse of surprise in them. She hadn’t expected him to react that way, but she couldn’t help the small rush of pride that swelled inside her, knowing she’d said yes.

Beomgyu blinked, and for a split second, seemed lost in his own thoughts. Then, his smile broke out—wide and genuine—lighting up his whole face. His voice was almost too eager, a hint of disbelief slipping through. “Really?” His voice was quieter than usual as if he was still absorbing the fact that she’d agreed. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to… I’m just glad you’re up for it.” He rubbed the back of his neck as if trying to keep himself from looking too eager, but the light in his eyes gave him away.

Y/N’s heart fluttered at the sight of his smile, the relief and happiness in his expression making her chest tighten in a good way. She hadn’t expected this much joy to come from such a simple exchange. Beomgyu leaned back in his seat, a grin still tugging at the corners of his lips. He felt a strange mix of excitement and disbelief, but it was quickly replaced by a more relaxed, content feeling as he realized she wanted to spend time with him.

"Okay, cool," he said, trying to sound nonchalant but unable to keep the smile from his voice. "We can figure out what to do once you’re free. Taehyun's pretty laid-back, so it’ll be fun."

Y/N’s gaze flickered to the side, her fingers pressing gently against the edge of her notebook, unsure of what to say next. She was still processing the fact that she'd agreed, but she couldn’t deny the fluttering feeling in her chest. It was a strange mix of nerves and anticipation. Being around Beomgyu had become something she looked forward to, even if it was still new and a little overwhelming.

After a few moments of silence, Beomgyu’s voice broke through again. Beomgyu leaned back in his seat once more, his heart still racing. He wanted to make sure he wasn’t overwhelming her, so he quickly asked, “Is it okay if Taehyun comes too? I know I mentioned him but I don’t want to put you on the spot if that’s not what you were expecting.” He glanced over at her, hoping she didn’t feel pressured.

Y/N’s eyes flickered before she returned to her notebook, her fingers lightly grazing the page. She was nervous, but she wanted to try. It was a strange feeling—being overwhelmed but still wanting to make the effort. Y/N quickly wrote down. I’m nervous, but I’d like to meet him.

Beomgyu felt his chest warm at her answer. He noticed the subtle way her shoulders were tense, but there was a quiet determination in her words. He smiled softly, trying to ease her nerves. “I’m really glad you’re up for it,” he said, his voice kind and reassuring. “But if you ever feel overwhelmed, just let me know. We’ll keep things chill, okay?”

Y/N nodded, her face flushed with a mix of nerves and something else—perhaps a hint of excitement. Beomgyu couldn't help but feel a little giddy inside. It made him happy to see her stepping out of her comfort zone, even just a little.

“Alright, then,” he said with a grin, his excitement slipping through. “I’m really looking forward to it. I think Taehyun’s gonna be excited to meet you too.” Y/N paused at his words, her brow furrowing in slight confusion. Taehyun? she thought, her heart suddenly thumping faster. Why would Taehyun be excited to meet me? Did Beomgyu talk to him about me?

She looked up at Beomgyu, her eyes silently asking the question, but she didn’t write anything down this time, unsure of how to phrase it. Beomgyu’s grin faltered slightly when he saw the confusion in her eyes. His own gaze flickered around, trying to avoid meeting hers, his chest tightening under the weight of her quiet stare. He cleared his throat, trying to sound nonchalant despite the warmth creeping up his neck.

“Oh, uh, Taehyun’s just... been curious, you know?” he said, his words stumbling out a little too quickly. “We hang out a lot, talk a lot more these days, and he’s asked about you. So, uh, I told him a little bit.”

He couldn’t help it. Taehyun was his best friend, and he’d mentioned Y/N to Taehyun more than a few times. But he hadn’t expected to feel this nervous about it.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. He talks about me? The thought made her stomach flutter, her pulse quickening. She wasn’t sure what to make of it—she wasn’t used to being the topic of anyone’s conversations, let alone someone like Beomgyu.

Beomgyu noticed her silence and immediately felt a knot tighten in his stomach. His face reddened, and he tried to salvage the situation. “Not, like, all the time!” he blurted out, looking anywhere but at her. “I mean, just a little. He’s... he’s a curious guy, that’s all.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile faintly. Her heart was still racing, but she found herself oddly touched, even if she wasn’t sure what to think. The idea that Beomgyu had mentioned her to someone else felt strange—but kind of nice at the same time.

Beomgyu shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes dropping to his notebook as if that could distract him from how flustered he felt. “Anyway, he’s cool. I think you two would get along just fine,” he added quickly, eager to change the subject and move on from the awkwardness.

Y/N gave a small nod, her smile softening. She wasn’t sure how she felt about being talked about, but Beomgyu’s easygoing tone and the way he spoke about Taehyun made her think it couldn’t be all that bad. She felt a little more at ease now, even though her heart was still beating a little faster than usual. Beomgyu glanced at the clock on the wall, realizing how late it had gotten. The library had grown quieter as the evening dragged on, the sound of whispered conversations and pages turning gradually fading into silence. He stretched his arms over his head, a quiet yawn escaping as he began gathering his things. “Wanna head out then, it’s getting late,” He asked her. Y/N nodded, then began packing her notebook and pens into her bag, preparing to leave. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze for a moment before turning back to her belongings, her movements deliberate.

Beomgyu stood up and reached for his own things. A small part of him felt reluctant for the night to end. It had been a good study session, and he wasn’t quite ready to leave the comfortable silence they’d shared. Y/N zipped up her bag and stood up, the weight of the evening’s work resting on her shoulders. She wrote in the notes app on her phone, then turned it to show him. I should go. It’s getting late.

Beomgyu nodded, he caught a glimpse of the rain outside—thin sheets of water falling steadily, blurring the outlines of the campus. His heart gave a little tug as he noticed her without an umbrella. He couldn’t just let her walk out there alone, not in the rain.

“Hey, wait,” Beomgyu said quickly, moving next to her now. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

Y/N paused, her brow furrowing just slightly. She hadn’t expected him to offer, but warmth flushed over her cheeks at the thought. She gave him a small, shy nod, then quickly wrote down in her phone then turned it so he could see.

Okay, thanks, I would like that! Beomgyu’s grin widened as he grabbed his umbrella from one of the empty chairs he set it down on. “Let’s go,” He said softly leading them out of the building. As they walked outside, Beomgyu opened the umbrella with a smooth flick of his wrist. He stepped toward her, holding it over both of them. The sound of their footsteps filled the air as they fell into step together. The air felt cool, with the rain gently pattering against the umbrella above them. The steady rhythm of the rain created a peaceful backdrop, quieting everything and making it feel more intimate.

Beomgyu held the umbrella close to both of them, their shoulders almost brushing as they walked side by side. The rain was light but persistent, soaking the ground and filling the air with a damp, fresh scent. He couldn’t help but notice how close she was now, the soft glow of the streetlamps catching in the raindrops around them. The walk was short, but Beomgyu felt the weight of every step, each one heavier than the last. The steady rhythm of their footsteps seemed to echo between them, yet it was the quiet, unspoken moments that filled the space. He could hear the soft rustle of Y/N’s jacket, the faint shuffle of her footsteps as they perfectly matched his own. Every sound seemed amplified in the silence that stretched between them, making the air feel electric, charged with something unspoken.

The proximity felt different tonight—closer, more intimate, as if the air between them was thicker, more tangible. His mind raced, caught between the thrill of it and the nervous flutter in his chest. It almost felt like too much, but not in a bad way—it felt right, like they were teetering on the edge of something new.

Beomgyu glanced down at her, just as Y/N looked up at him. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and his heart skipped in his chest. Her face flushed faintly, and she quickly turned her gaze away, making him feel both lighter and heavier all at once. His pulse quickened, the nervous energy building between them.

Y/N pulled out her phone again, the soft glow of the screen illuminating her face in the dim light. Beomgyu wondered, for a split second, if she was going to write something. But she hesitated. The silence between them stretched, thick with anticipation. He kept his eyes ahead, giving her the space to decide whether she wanted to talk. His heart beat a little faster, unsure of what to say next.

Finally, Y/N typed something, glancing down at her screen before showing him the message.

Thank you again for walking me to my car, means a lot.

“No problem,” Beomgyu said with a smile, though there was a quiet sincerity in his voice. He didn’t mind at all. “Really, it’s no trouble.”

Y/N nodded, but there was a small pause before she typed again, her fingers moving quickly over the keys.

And thank you for hanging out with me today, I had fun even though we were just studying.

Beomgyu chuckled softly, shaking his head, his heart light. “You don’t have to keep thanking me,” he said with a laugh, his voice a little warmer now. “I like hanging out with you too, Y/N.”

Y/N smiled back, her gaze holding his for a moment, a soft, unspoken understanding passing between them. There was something about the way her eyes softened, the way her lips curled into that quiet smile that made his chest tighten in the best way.

A few more strides, and they were at her car. The moment felt too short, too fleeting. She typed one last message.

Do you want me to drive you to your dorm?

Beomgyu shook his head, the smile never leaving his face. “No, it’s fine. My dorm is a short walk from here, no worries. Just... make it home safely, okay?”

Y/N nodded, unlocking her car. As she slipped into the driver's seat, Beomgyu took a step back, not quite ready for the night to end.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, the words almost lingering in the cool air. “Text me when you get home, so I know you made it, okay?”

Y/N gave him a big smile, nodding enthusiastically before she closed the door. Beomgyu stood there for a moment, watching her, feeling like time had slowed just for them. He stepped back slowly, starting his own walk home with a huge grin on his face. The rain seemed to soften around him, and for the first time in a long while, he felt giddy—lost in thoughts of Y/N, with the sound of raindrops tapping on the pavement filling the silence.

The soft hum of the car’s engine died as Y/N pulled into the driveway, her headlights casting a warm glow on the familiar path to the front door. She turned off the engine, her heart still racing from the walk with Beomgyu, the memory of their quiet closeness lingering in her chest. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel tight, a mixture of excitement and nervousness swirling in her stomach. She stepped out of the car, and the cool, rainy night air hit her skin. She quickly made her way toward the front door, not wanting to get rained on. The house stood dark and quiet, except for a light glowing faintly from the living room. Her dad had always been a night owl; he liked having his alone time, and nighttime was the best for that. As soon as Y/N stepped inside, she was met with the lingering scent of dinner—something rich, buttery, and warm—curling in the air like a cruel tease. Her stomach twisted at the smell, a stark reminder of how long it had been since she last ate.

She took off her shoes and glanced toward the living room, where her dad was stretching as he got up from the couch. The TV cast a soft glow across the room, the volume low, as if he’d just been waiting for her to come home.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted, his voice easy, casual. “You have a good night?”

She nodded, forcing a small smile. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he said, rubbing his eyes as he stifled a yawn. “I was just about to head to bed. Glad you made it home safe.”

She nodded again, but her mind was elsewhere—on the scent still clinging to the air, making her mouth water. Without another word, she slipped into the kitchen.

The counters were wiped clean, not a single dish left out. The fridge door was cool against her fingers as she pulled it open, scanning the shelves for anything��a plate, a container, something saved for her. But the space where leftovers should be was empty.

Her brows furrowed. She stepped back, inhaling again, and that’s when it hit her. The smell wasn’t just hanging in the air—it was stronger, closer.

She turned slowly, her eyes landing on the trash can. The lid wasn’t fully shut. A faint dread settled in her chest as she reached out, pressing it open with her foot.

There, among crumpled napkins and discarded scraps, was a takeout container, its lid haphazardly resting on top. Inside, untouched food—still neatly packed, barely eaten—mocked her from beneath the dim kitchen light.

Thrown away.

She stared for a moment, her throat tightening. Not forgotten. Tossed out. On purpose.

The quiet of the house pressed in on her, the weight of it settling in her stomach alongside the hunger.

Behind her, her dad’s footsteps padded toward the hallway. “I heard you ate already?” he asked, voice heavy with exhaustion.

She hesitated, fingers curling at her sides, and she gave a quick, tight nod of her head. Her stepmom must have lied to him. She had to be the one who threw the perfectly good food out; her dad would never do such a thing.

“Good.” He patted her shoulder in passing, a brief, absentminded gesture before disappearing down the hall. “Night, kid.”

The words barely registered. Y/N stood there for a moment longer, staring at the discarded meal and the empty fridge.

Swallowing down the tightness in her throat, she turned back to the pantry, opening it with slow, quiet movements. She didn’t want to think too hard about it, didn’t want to let it settle too deep, so she reached for the first thing her fingers brushed against—a granola bar.

Not enough to feel full, but enough to get rid of the ache in her stomach.

Peeling the wrapper open, she took a small bite, barely tasting it as she flicked off the kitchen light and padded toward her room.

The week had flown by. Beomgyu and Y/N had been texting constantly, their conversations stretching longer and longer each day. They found themselves meeting up in the library more often than not. It felt like things were shifting between them, slowly but surely. But today was Saturday—the day she would officially meet Taehyun. She was nervous, but she wanted to do this. Taehyun meant a lot to Beomgyu, and she knew this was important. She just hoped he wouldn’t judge her for not speaking.

As she stepped out of her room, loud chatter broke the silence. The muffled sounds of conversation came from the kitchen. The scent of freshly brewed coffee reached her as she made her way downstairs, her stomach twisting with anticipation.

Her stepmom, sitting at the kitchen table, was chatting with a friend over coffee. Their voices carried through the hallway, a steady hum of laughter and idle chatter. Y/N hesitated outside the kitchen, taking a deep breath before stepping inside nervously, trying to make herself as invisible as possible.

She opened the fridge, the cool air rushing out to greet her, and began to sift through the contents. Her fingers brushed over the containers of ripe fruit—blueberries, grapes, and blackberries. She pulled out a few pieces of each, letting the sweet scent of the fruit fill her nose. She mainly picked at the blackberries, hoping to avoid the inevitable confrontation. But then, her stepmom’s voice broke through the quiet kitchen air, sharp and cutting through the hum of conversation. “Y/N,” she called, her tone slightly raised, “Come say hi to Mrs. Yoon.”

Y/N didn’t respond, her eyes still focused on the fruit, feeling the familiar discomfort settle into her chest. She just kept chewing, deliberately slow, as she tried to blend into the kitchen’s background. She could almost feel her stepmom’s eyes on her, waiting for a reaction, but Y/N remained still.

There was a long pause before her stepmom spoke again, her voice dripping with condescension. “Honestly, you’ve been so quiet lately. You’d think I raised someone who couldn’t speak at all.” There was a soft, forced chuckle from Mrs. Yoon, her stepmom’s friend, which made Y/N’s stomach tighten.

Mrs. Yoon’s laugh echoed in the kitchen, her voice high-pitched and exaggerated. “Maybe she’s just shy, huh? But surely you could say a word or two. I mean, it’s not like it would hurt.”

Y/N’s grip on the blackberries tightened, and she felt her chest constrict. The words landed like cold, harsh stones, but she didn’t flinch. She wasn’t going to engage. Not this time.

Sensing an opening, her stepmom pressed on, her voice sharpening just a little. “Y/N,” she called, a bit louder now, “Don’t be rude. You're not a little girl anymore; it's polite to talk to our guests.” The words felt like a punch to the gut. Y/N’s breath hitched, but she didn’t look up. She didn’t meet her stepmom’s eyes. She could feel the weight of the silence stretching between them, almost suffocating. But she just chewed another blackberry, her eyes focused on the fruit, hoping the moment would pass. But it wouldn’t, and Y/N knew that. So, with all her strength, she turned around slowly, bowing her head to Mrs. Yoon, not daring to look up at the woman. Her cheeks were flushed red from pure embarrassment. Mrs. Yoon, blissfully unaware of the tension, continued. “You know, Y/N,” she said, her tone dripping with fake sweetness, “You’re so pretty. I’m sure you could talk if you wanted to. It’s probably just a phase, right?”

The words were laced with that same mocking cheerfulness that made Y/N’s skin crawl. Her throat tightened painfully as she felt the heat rise in her chest. Y/N just kept holding the small container of blackberries, pretending that was enough to focus on. "Too old for it to be a phase," Her stepmom said in a sour tone. "We thought it was a phase when she was four... Still hasn’t grown out of it. She's just plain rude now."

The chair scraped softly against the tiled floor as Mrs. Yoon stood up. Y/N quickly grabbed another berry, her fingers trembling just slightly as she moved toward the counter, trying to escape the tension without making it obvious. Mrs. Yoon passed by her, muttering under her breath, but Y/N didn’t look up. “There’s nothing wrong with a little effort, Y/N,” Mrs. Yoon’s voice was cold—her words barely more than a hiss as she passed by. “You wouldn’t want people to think you’re strange, would you?”

Y/N’s grip tightened on the container, but she didn’t respond. She turned slowly toward the pantry, the sound of her steps muffled on the floor as she opened the door. She grabbed a granola bar, anything to get away from the conversation, anything to fill the emptiness in her stomach without thinking too much about the conversation she couldn’t escape. “This is embarrassing,” her stepmom huffed as she also walked past Y/N into the living room, following Mrs. Yoon.

With a quick motion, Y/N stuffed the granola bar into her pocket, not bothering to open it. She couldn’t focus on food right now, not when her heart was still pounding in her chest. She placed the container of fruit back into the fridge. Without sparing a glance behind her, she turned and made her way toward the stairs, her steps hurried but quiet, like she was trying to outrun the weight of the moment. As she reached the top, she shut the door to her room, the brief silence offering a small relief from the chaos below. She quickly changed into her work clothes, trying to ignore the nerves still gnawing at her stomach. Her hands were unsteady as she buttoned her shirt, the fabric feeling tight and unfamiliar against her skin. She tried to push down the unease, telling herself it was just the usual anxiety. But today, it felt different—more intense, like everything was building up. She glanced at the clock. She was running out of time. With a deep breath, she quickly finished getting ready, her movements a little more frantic than usual. Y/N quickly grabbed a change of clothes from her closet, her fingers still trembling as she folded them neatly. She added the set to her bag, making sure she wouldn’t forget anything for after work. The tension in her chest hadn't eased, but she tried to focus, heading to the bathroom.

Her reflection stared back at her as she brushed her teeth, the familiar minty taste doing little to calm her nerves. She ran a comb through her hair, the bristles catching slightly, but she didn’t mind. She needed to get going. Maybe once she was out of the house, things would feel a little easier. But as she packed her things and took one last look around the room, the knot in her stomach stayed tight, reminding her that her day was only just beginning.

The clock struck the hour, signaling the end of her shift, and Y/N quickly clocked out, feeling the weight of the long day slip off her shoulders. She quickly changed out of her work uniform and into a simple, comfortable outfit in the bathroom. Once she was done, she stood in front of the mirror, making sure she looked presentable. She kept patting at a flyaway strand of hair, with a huff and it not staying down she decided to pull her phone out. Her fingers trembled as she sent Beomgyu a text. Y/N: Hey! I’m done (: After pressing send, she went back to fixing her hair. The strand was barely noticeable, but it was all Y/N could focus on. She tried to breathe a little deeper, trying to push away the anxiety that had been building all day. The minutes dragged on endlessly until her phone buzzed, Beomgyu's reply lighting up the screen.

Beomgyu: Taehyun wants to cook for us tonight. He loves cooking, so we’ll all be eating at his place instead of going out! Y/N blinked at the message, a mix of emotions swirling inside her. She was glad she wouldn’t have to deal with the pressure of picking a place to eat or having to try and order in public in front of them. But the thought of meeting Taehyun still made her stomach twist in knots. She had heard so much about him, and the idea of meeting someone important to Beomgyu—someone who was already a part of his world—made her feel out of place. Still, she couldn’t back out now. Y/N: Sounds good!! I’m excited She got a reply right away. Beomgyu: Me too! You can come here now. I’m already here (: He had sent another text right after with Taehyun’s address. Just like Jiwon, Taehyun lived in a off campus apartment. She gathered her things, slinging her bag over her shoulder before stepping out of the café into the warm afternoon air. The sun hung high in the sky, casting soft golden light over the parking lot. A gentle breeze carried the lingering scent of coffee and pastries as Y/N made her way to her car, her footsteps quiet against the pavement.

She slid into the driver's seat, exhaled slowly, and gripped the wheel for a moment before starting the car. The low hum of the engine filled the cabin, but it did little to settle the nervous energy bubbling inside her.

She pulled out of the driveway and onto the road, her thoughts racing faster than the cars passing by. Would Taehyun like her? Would she embarrass herself? She tried to focus on the drive—the steady rhythm of the traffic lights, the soft murmur of the radio—but the closer she got to Taehyun’s apartment, the harder it became to push away the tightness in her chest.

The drive felt both too short and too long, the minutes stretching endlessly and yet slipping away before she could fully prepare herself. When she finally turned into the apartment complex, her stomach twisted even tighter. The building stood tall and modern, its clean lines and muted tones unfamiliar, almost imposing.

She pulled into an empty parking spot and let out a shaky breath, gripping the steering wheel before forcing herself to move. She adjusted the strap of her bag and stepped out of the car with slow, careful movements. Each step toward Taehyun’s door felt heavier, anxiety pressing against her ribs.

She reached the door, hesitating for a moment before pressing the doorbell. The soft chime rang through the hallway, and Y/N swallowed against the lump in her throat, waiting. The sound of muffled footsteps neared the door, and Y/N instinctively straightened, tightening her grip on her bag. A second later, the door swung open, revealing Beomgyu.

His face instantly lit up at the sight of her, a familiar warmth in his expression that made her chest flutter. “Hey, you made it,” he said with a grin, stepping aside to let her in.

Y/N nodded quickly and stepped over the threshold into the apartment. The scent of something savory filled the air, and the faint sound of a knife chopping against a cutting board echoed from the kitchen.

“Taehyun’s in there,” Beomgyu said, tilting his head toward the kitchen as he shut the door behind her. “He’s been cooking since, like, forever. I think he wants to impress you.”

Y/N’s stomach flipped at the thought, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her bag. Beomgyu must've noticed, because he nudged her lightly. “Hey, you don’t have to be nervous. Taehyun’s chill, I promise.”

She knew he meant well, but her nerves weren’t so easily soothed. Her hands felt stiff at her sides as she gently kicked off her shoes, then followed Beomgyu further inside. The apartment was cozy, a blend of modern and lived-in. There were books and notebooks stacked on the coffee table, a couple of blankets lazily thrown over the couch, and a few potted plants scattered around. It felt like a space filled with quiet routines and comfort. Before she could dwell on it too long, a voice called out from the kitchen. “You’re just in time.”

Y/N looked up as Taehyun stepped into view, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. He was a little shorter than Beomgyu but carried himself with an easy confidence. His dark eyes studied her for a moment before he offered a small smile. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, his tone calm but not unkind. “Nice to finally meet you.” She swallowed hard as Taehyun looked at her, but for a split second, her mind wandered—his eyes were calm, almost too calm for someone who'd just met her. It made her wonder what it was like to be that comfortable with a stranger. She wished she could be more like that. Taehyun was a familiar face, she’s seen him before with Beomgyu and in their psychology lecture. But she’s only stolen glances at him, she’s never actually taken in his appearance until now.

Y/N’s heart hammered against her ribs. he bowed her head in greeting, hoping it would be enough. Beomgyu had to mention to Taehyun that I didn’t talk, right? She thought to herself. Taehyun caught the small gesture and offered a soft smile in return—acknowledging her without making things awkward. He knew she didn’t talk, and he wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it. Beomgyu, on the other hand, flopped onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. “Tell me you made enough food for me to eat like a king.”

Taehyun shot him an unimpressed look. “I made enough for three people, which means you’re eating like a normal human being.”

Y/N felt a small, unexpected smile tug at her lips. The dynamic between them was natural like they had their own rhythm, their own inside jokes. She felt like an outsider looking in, but the warmth in the room wasn’t lost on her.

“You can sit,” Taehyun said, nodding toward the couch. “Food’s almost ready.” Y/N hesitated before moving toward the couch, her hands still gripping the strap of her bag like a lifeline. The nerves hadn’t gone away, but as Beomgyu continued to whine about how starving he was and Taehyun expertly ignored him, she felt herself exhale just a little. She set her bag down next to her on the couch, still holding onto the strap for comfort.

As the rich, spicy aroma of the simmering soup filled the apartment, Beomgyu sprawled beside her, bouncing his knee absentmindedly. The low hum of Taehyun moving around in the kitchen mixed with the occasional clatter of utensils, blending into a comfortable hum of normalcy. Beomgyu stretched his arms above his head before glancing at Y/N. “Was work okay?”

She blinked at him, briefly surprised by the question, before reaching for her phone. It was fine. Pretty busy.

Beomgyu peeked at the screen and nodded. “Yeah, I bet. The café always looks packed when I walk by.” He let his head fall back against the couch. “I’d suck at that job. I’d mess up orders left and right.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly, her fingers hovering over her phone before she typed, she wanted to tease him a little. Sounds like you’d get fired right away.

Beomgyu gasped, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. “You’re supposed to say, ‘No, Beomgyu, you’d be amazing!’ Where’s the support?”

Her lips twitched, the smallest hint of amusement flickering in her eyes.

Before Beomgyu could continue his fake sulking, Taehyun’s voice carried from the kitchen. “Food’s ready. Come eat.”

Beomgyu immediately shot up. “Finally.” Y/N followed him to the small dining table, where Taehyun was setting down three steaming bowls of soup. The deep red broth swirled with shredded beef, vegetables, and glass noodles, the scent rich with spice. A plate of rice sat in the middle of the table, accompanied by a few small side dishes.

She met Taehyun’s gaze and bowed her head slightly in thanks. He responded with a small nod, his expression unreadable but not unkind. “Eat before Beomgyu devours everything,” Taehyun muttered as he sat down.

Beomgyu scoffed, already reaching for his spoon. “I have some self-control.”

Taehyun raised a brow.

“…Okay, not much. But I have some.” Beomgyu continued on his voice more quiet.

Y/N quietly took her seat, picking up her spoon and dipping it into the broth. She blew on it gently before taking a small sip, the rich spice coating her tongue in a slow burn. The warmth spread through her chest, grounding her more than she expected. It had been a while since Y/N had enjoyed a meal like this. Lately, she'd been missing dinners at home, often spending so much time away that she only had time for snacks or whatever she could grab at the café where she worked. Cooking at home wasn’t even an option—she knew her stepmom would make a fuss if she tried to prepare even the simplest dish.

Beomgyu let out a satisfied groan, his eyes closing in contentment. “Taehyun, if you don’t open a restaurant someday, I’m reporting you to the authorities.”

Taehyun barely glanced up. “Then I guess I’m a fugitive.”

Beomgyu turned to Y/N as he dramatically scooped another spoonful. “You see how he wastes his potential? Tragic.”

Y/N only shook her head slightly, stirring her soup as the conversation continued. The nerves that had tightened in her chest all day were still there, but they were softer now—fading into the background as she listened to the back-and-forth between them. The warmth of the meal, the easy rhythm of their banter, and the simple comfort of just being there settled something inside her. As the conversation flowed between Beomgyu and Taehyun, Y/N let herself relax, just a little. The attention wasn’t on her, and that was comforting—like she could just exist in the background without pressure. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

That thought barely had time to settle before Taehyun shifted his focus.

“Beomgyu told me you’re studying to be a vet tech,” he said casually, setting his spoon down for a moment.

The words sent a jolt through Y/N, her shoulders tensing instinctively. The weight of his attention made her skin prickle, her pulse quickening.

Beomgyu, completely unaware of the storm brewing in her mind, perked up. “Oh, yeah! She loves animals.”

Y/N's fingers trembled slightly as she reached for her phone. Her thoughts felt tangled, weighed down by the lingering echoes of this morning—her stepmom’s sharp voice, the cruel amusement in her friend’s tone.

You wouldn’t want people to think you’re strange, would you? The thought ran through her head.

She inhaled deeply, pressing the tips of her fingers into her palm beneath the table. Focus. She just needed to focus.

Her phone screen glowed softly as she typed. Yeah. I like animals more than people haha.

Beomgyu let out a chuckle, light and easy. But Taehyun just gave a small nod, eyes steady. “That makes sense. I would also have to agree with that.”

The simple understanding in his tone eased something inside her. Y/N exhaled slowly, her grip loosening on her phone.

Taehyun reached for his glass of water. “Do you have pets?”

Y/N hesitated. The truth sat heavy on her tongue, bitter and familiar. Her stepmom hated animals—hated them simply because Y/N loved them. Just like everything else Y/N cared about, her stepmom dismissed it, resented it, as if her interests existed just to spite her.

Her fingers moved over the screen. No. My stepmom doesn’t like them.

Beomgyu frowned immediately. “That sucks.”

Y/N shrugged, but the lump in her throat didn’t budge.

She pressed her palms together under the table, fingers gently tracing circles on the inside of her wrist, grounding herself. It was a quiet effort to remind herself that she wasn’t at home, wasn’t under the weight of someone’s critical gaze. The sting of her stepmom’s harsh words came back—how she always belittled Y/N’s interests, and dismissed what mattered to her. But here, in this cozy apartment with the comforting scent of food in the air, Y/N tried to push those thoughts away. She wasn’t in that place anymore. She was here, in this moment, and no one was making her feel small or out of place. No one was making her feel small. She could breathe here.

Taehyun didn’t pry any further. Instead, he took another bite of his food and said, “A vet tech, huh? It’s a good career. You’ll always have work.”

The confidence in his tone caught her off guard. No skepticism, no questioning whether she was really capable of it—just an acknowledgment. Beomgyu tapped her arm lightly with his elbow, his grin unwavering. “See? You’re still here, which means Taehyun doesn’t secretly hate you.” He was attempting to make her feel relaxed, somehow.

Y/N glanced up at Taehyun, who was calmly eating, not offering much reaction. She wasn’t sure if that meant anything, but at least he didn’t seem bothered by her presence.

Taehyun finally looked up, eyeing Beomgyu with mild exasperation. “Why would I hate her?”

Beomgyu shrugged dramatically. “I don’t know, you hate a lot of things.”

Taehyun sighed, shaking his head. “Just finish eating.”

Y/N lowered her gaze to her bowl, her grip on the spoon relaxing. The easy banter between them made the atmosphere feel lighter, even if she wasn’t sure where she fit into it yet. Before taking another spoonful of soup, Y/N glanced up at Beomgyu, only to find him already watching her, a soft smile on his lips. His eyes held a silent reassurance, a quiet praise—his way of telling her that everything was okay. As the meal continued, Y/N reached for her phone, her fingers hovering over the screen. Her anxiety still hummed beneath the surface, but she wanted to try.

Taehyun, do you cook a lot? she typed before sliding the phone toward him.

Taehyun glanced at the screen as he chewed, then swallowed before nodding. “Yeah. I like it.”

Beomgyu jumped in before she could type again. “He’s basically a housewife.”

Taehyun shot him a look. “I enjoy making real food instead of surviving on instant ramen and convenience store snacks, unlike some people.” Y/N cheeks flushed lightly, she also enjoyed those things, especially the convenience store snacks.

Beomgyu waved him off. “I’m alive, aren’t I?”

Y/N’s fingers hesitated over the keyboard before she finished typing, sliding her phone toward Taehyun again. What’s your favorite thing to make?

Taehyun’s brow lifted slightly, but he didn’t seem bothered by the question—in fact, there was something almost appreciative in the way he read it. “Probably kimchi stew. But I like trying new stuff too.”

Beomgyu leaned in with a grin. “Taehyun thinks he’s a master chef.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Y/N watched their exchange, fingers idly tapping against the side of her phone. She wasn’t used to people like this—so at ease with each other, so effortlessly comfortable.

As they finished eating, the conversation drifted into more casual topics—mostly Beomgyu’s over-the-top complaints about his classes and Taehyun’s dry, unimpressed responses. Y/N listened quietly, fingers lightly tapping against the side of her phone once more. The warmth of the meal still lingered in her stomach, grounding her.

She glanced down at her bowl, realizing she had nearly finished everything. The rich, spicy broth had been comforting, and soothing in a way she hadn’t expected. It didn’t erase the weight of the morning, but for a little while, it had helped.

Beomgyu let out a satisfied sigh, leaning back in his chair. “That hit the spot.”

Taehyun hummed, gathering his own bowl. “You say that every time.”

“Because it’s true every time.” Beomgyu turned to Y/N with a grin, nodding toward her empty bowl. “You liked it, right?”

She hesitated for a second before nodding.

Taehyun’s gaze flickered to her, his expression unreadable for a moment before he spoke. “I’m glad,” he said simply, a small, approving smile tugging at his lips. It was brief, but it softened his usual sharp demeanor.

Y/N quickly typed out a message on her phone and slid it toward him.

It was really good. Thank you for making it.

Taehyun read the text, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly before he nodded. “Anytime.”

Beomgyu pushed his bowl aside. “Alright, now that we’re all full, what’s next?”

Taehyun ran a hand through his hair, glancing around the small kitchen before shrugging. “We could just hang out for a while, see where the night takes us. No need to rush anything.”

Y/N tucked her phone into her pocket, feeling the familiar weight of silence settle around her. Her gaze flickered between the two of them, watching as Beomgyu casually leaned back and made himself comfortable, grinning in that easy-going way of his. Taehyun, on the other hand, appeared relaxed, an unspoken warmth to his presence that helped ease her discomfort just a little more.

She couldn’t help but smile faintly, her thoughts quieting for a moment as she took in the scene. It was such a contrast from the tense moments in her own home this morning, the sharpness of her stepmom’s words slowly dulling. For now, here, with Beomgyu and Taehyun, the world felt a little softer. She could breathe a little easier. The three of them eventually cleaned up their dishes placing them in the sink before making their way to the living room. Y/N and Beomgyu sat together on the couch while Taehyun sat on an accent chair across from the pair.

Beomgyu was now recounting a ridiculous story about something that had happened at school, gesturing wildly as he spoke, while Taehyun listened intently, clearly amused. Y/N’s gaze lingered on the two of them, watching as they interacted effortlessly, their conversation flowing as easily as their laughter.

A small chuckle bubbled up in her chest, and she quickly stifled it, not wanting to interrupt their flow. But she couldn’t help it. The way Beomgyu threw his hands up in exaggerated frustration, the way Taehyun rolled his eyes, his lips quirking up in a barely-there smile. And then it happened—her laugh, soft and unexpected. It caught her off guard, but it slipped out anyway. She hadn’t meant to, but something about the way Beomgyu was speaking, the ridiculousness of his story, just made her chuckle.

Beomgyu stopped mid-sentence, his eyes turning toward her immediately. For a moment, it seemed like time had paused, the room quieting as he looked at her. His expression softened, his lips curving into a warm, genuine smile. There was no teasing, no making a big deal of it—just a simple, kind look that made her feel seen, in the most comfortable way.

She quickly averted her gaze, a blush creeping up her neck and across her cheeks, but the smile didn’t leave her face. It wasn’t that anyone had noticed her laugh—it was that Beomgyu had, and instead of calling attention to it, he simply looked at her with warmth. It made her feel a little more at ease, like she belonged, even in the small, quiet moments.

Taehyun glanced at them both, his expression faintly amused, but he said nothing. The conversation continued, light and easy, and for the first time in a while, Y/N felt like she could just exist in a space without the weight of her thoughts pressing down on her.

As they chatted, laughed, and shared stories, Y/N’s smile lingered. It wasn’t the loud, boisterous kind of laughter that filled the room, but it was real. And for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel out of place.

It felt like she was beginning to find her place, little by little, with them. Even without saying a word.

✧ taglist: @brrytears @tubasmiracle @sseishiross

#choi beomgyu #txt #tomorrow x together #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu fic #txt beomgyu #beomgyu x y/n #txt fic #txt x reader #txt ff #beomgyu ff #fluff #angst #kpop x reader

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re-decorate · 5 months ago

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#idk man #something about the pilots’ music is so personal to me #it doesn’t even feel like music anymore it feels like it’s a part of me now #which is crazy to say since they’re tyler and josh’s songs not mine #but thats the amazing thing about this band i guess #that show was everything i needed it to be and more #im so so so grateful i was able to go it really was the exact thing i needed in that exact moment #i love this band to pieces i dont know what id do without them #ramblings

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andvys · 6 months ago

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You said you were gonna grow up (then you were gonna come find me) ⭐︎ S.H.

⭐︎ Warnings: slight angst, mutual pining, idiots in love, childhood best friends to lovers, allusions to cheating (but not really), mentions of sex, mentions of unrequited love, hurt/comfort

⭐︎ Summary: You and Steve used to be inseparable, best friends since childhood, you shared something special, something rare. You promised each other forever but... promises are never to keep... right?

⭐︎ Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

⭐︎ Word count: 10k

⭐︎ Author's note: To my Steve girlies who have read (and still mourn) I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss -- in the middle of writing this little oneshot, I noticed that Steve and reader reminded me of someone, and then I realized that it's basically Steve and Cheer in a different universe (if Steve hadn't fucked up as badly as he did). This is... what they should have been.

Also shoutout to @hellfire--cult for inspiring me to finish this oneshot (finally) and @ghost-proofbaby thank you for picking a title for me, and for your sweet words about this little piece, you're both the bestest

⭐︎ my library

divider by @saradika (I screamed when I saw the folklore dividers)

♡

The smell of weed and smoke lingers in the air, music blares through the house and bounces off the walls, laughter and giggles come from every corner, conversations he couldn’t care less about yet listens in on because what else is there to do at a party?

Steve once found himself at home in such gatherings, now he feels nothing but bored as he watches the people instead of interacting with them like he once used to do.

He used to be on the dancefloor, at the keg stand, pressing some girl against the wall and kissing her neck before taking her upstairs into one of the empty bedrooms – but those days are long over and they are not to be missed, not in the slightest.

Now he is sitting out in the backyard of some stranger’s house, sipping on a lukewarm soda and waiting for Robin to get sick of this party so he can take her home before going to his empty house and crashing out on his new bed. Seeing as she’s jumping around on the dancefloor with Vickie, it doesn’t seem like she'll want to leave anytime soon.

A sigh falls from his lips and he slumps his shoulders in boredom.

He could be socializing, talking to girls, flirting with them, with the ones who keep waving at him and sending him suggestive, overly sweet looks – he isn’t interested. The past few months were wasted ones, disastrous dates, one or two meaningless hookups, girls who weren’t interested in him but only in sex – that was his reality and he didn’t want that anymore, he doesn’t want that anymore, he wants something real, he wants to feel something, he wants someone to want him for more than just that one thing, he wants a connection, a bond, he wants… you.

Steve’s lips part, his eyes lighten up, glowing just like the stars in the night sky, he sits up straighter and cranes his neck to see you better, his heart skipping in a way it hasn’t in a long time, he forgot what it feels like… but of course you are the one to remind him of the way his heart can skip and flutter when he feels something, you have always been the one, the only one.

Not even Nancy could make him feel half of the things you could make him feel.

But he blew his chances with you – the only chances that ever mattered.

He hears your laughter, your beautiful giggles that he missed every day since you left, even from all the way here, he can hear the voice that accompanied him throughout most of his life… until it didn’t.

You were his best friend, the only friend that mattered until he found Robin. You were with him from the moment your mothers introduced you both to each other, joined at the hip, you went through it all together, different hobbies, different friend groups, first crushes and rough school days, arguments with so called friends, first parties, first drunken nights, you went through so much and you did it all together, you experienced everything together.

Steve would sneak into your room, late at night, he would use the vines on the wall as a ladder, no matter how many times you scolded him, he still climbed up because he wanted to see you so desperately, even when he spent the whole day with you, it just wasn’t enough, you’d spent the nights whispering and talking about the newest gossips, sometimes he would paint your nails or braid your hair, sometimes you would just lie next to each other and listen to some new album and sometimes you would cuddle and fall asleep in each other’s arms, it was a regular thing, it was something constant.

But then something changed, you both got curious, you both started acting upon feelings that have been there for a long time already, feelings that were no longer innocent and childish turned into something more.

You were each other’s first kiss, it was nothing more than a peck at first… and then it was a second and a third before you kissed for real. And then, it was just another regular thing, you started cuddling and kissing every night, smiling and giggling through it all, holding hands and pulling each other closer and closer.

Those innocent kisses turned into makeout sessions and those turned into your first time.

It was his first time and yours, you shared it with each other, like you shared everything else together.

It was filled with nervous giggles, blushing cheeks and shaky touches, you were both scared to do something wrong but you assured one another and you both did your best, he took care of you and you of him. It was slow, it was soft, it was perfect. A night he will never forget.

Nothing ever came close to this moment, nothing came ever close to how you made him feel.

Steve should have asked you out after that night, he should’ve, but he didn’t, he chickened out, he got scared and he left the next morning without saying goodbye. That was his biggest mistake.

To this day, he doesn’t know how you felt about it all, you never spoke of this night again, you never mentioned it again, you both acted like nothing happened, you continued your friendship like you didn’t ruin it.

He kept coming over, everything stayed the same… but it didn’t.

You started slipping away from him and he was too busy to notice, he became captain of the basketball team, girls started noticing him, he started going on dates even though you were all he could think about, it felt wrong to hold their hands, to kiss them, to touch them, he felt as though he was betraying you but his new friend Tommy encouraged him, spoke lies into his ear about how you went on dates on the nights you canceled on him.

He was hurt, he was angry, and it only was a matter of time before he invited a girl who wasn’t you into his sheets.

He hated how he felt afterwards, but he didn’t stop, he kept going and before he could even blink, he was the most popular boy in school, he was King Steve, the guy who could have anyone but still only had eyes for one.

Though your shared nights became less frequent, you still spent time with him, even when you weren’t fond of Tommy and Carol, his big parties or the way he treated girls, you were still there and it bothered him that he couldn’t have you.

It was clear that you didn’t feel the same, despite the many signs that he had missed at that time. He was your best friend, just your best friend, just Steve. He could’ve made a move, he could've asked you out on a date, he could’ve finally confronted you about your night together and how you felt about it, how you felt about him, but he was scared and it was ironic really, because he was good with girls, very charming and cocky, smug and arrogant but not with you, no, not with you. You made him nervous, you made his chest feel weird, his stomach too, you made his heart race and flutter, you made his skin feel hot and his mind all crazy.

You got him bad.

You made him fall in love.

But he was a coward when it came to his feelings for you, he really was, he didn’t even want to admit them to himself, so he watched you slip through his fingers instead of taking action and making you his. His feelings got stronger despite the distance that slowly grew between you.

You were still there, physically, but your mind was somewhere else and you seemed so far away.

He left notes in your locker, just like he did when he was a kid.

And you did the same to him.

You waved at each other from afar and shared smiles, you still drove around town and sang along to your favorite songs after an occasional trip to that one diner out of town, you sometimes slept over and left your sweet scent on his pillows, driving him crazy with it. You were still each other’s best friends.

But then Nancy stepped into his life and that was it, at that point, it was already crumbling, your friendship was hanging by a thread and it earned its final blow when you moved away for college.

Occasional calls and letters were all that existed between you at that point, it drove him crazy, it made him sad. He suffered heartbreak when you were gone and you weren’t there to mend it, you weren’t there to hold him, to wipe his tears and tell him that he would be alright – how could you? You were the reason for that heartbreak and Nancy was the one who gave him the final push to open his eyes to the feelings he kept pushing away and feeling so scared of.

When he realized what a mistake he had made, it was far too late to fix it and he never stopped regretting the actions he took and didn’t take.

But now you are here, you are back.

He hasn’t heard your voice in so long, he hasn’t seen your beauty in forever, he missed your presence so dearly.

One year, one whole year without you.

Are you here to stay for the summer or are you back for good? He hopes it’s the latter, this town felt anything but home without you here.

Steve stares at you, he stares and stares without shame. His lips are curled into a soft smile, his cheeks already blushing as he takes you in.

You are so gorgeous.

A confident smile is lingering on your lips, your makeup is a little bolder than it used to be, back then, but it suits you, your skirt is short, your top is tight, your cleavage is showing and your skin is glowing, your hair is much longer than he remembers it to be, a few highlights added to your pretty hair color and styled into waves.

You have always been a sight for sore eyes, he was aware of your beauty from a young age, he called you his princess, his sweet, cute and beautiful princess. But you are more than just beautiful now, you are stunning, bewitching, you are heavenly.

His heart jumps at the sound of your giggle, his skin heating up so rapidly that it catches him off guard.

Steve watches you, he watches for what feels like forever, you’re here with friends, girls you used to hang out with back in high school.

The smile never leaves his lips as he keeps his eyes on you, his heart fluttering more and more each passing second, eyes continuing to light up at every sound of your giggle.

When you step away from your friends and walk back into the house, he wastes no time to follow, grabbing the chance that he once missed, he goes after you and leaves his drink abandoned on the floor.

He brushes past a group of guys playing beer pong, dodging the dancing people on the dancefloor, keeping his eyes on your body as he follows. Your skirt is swaying, your waves are bouncing, your hips are shaking slightly, your sweet scent lingers in the air and he can’t help but inhale it deeply, it’s still the same scent that he missed on his pillows and the hoodies you used to steal.

With your back turned to him, you stop in front of the snack table and pour yourself a cup of the overly alcoholised punch.

Steve doesn’t approach you right away, standing by the doorway, he decides to watch you for a second longer, feeling giddy and nervous now that he is so close to you again.

You nearly choke on the punch, the bitter taste of alcohol overpowering the fruity taste, you scrunch your brows together and swallow it down in disgust, unimpressed by this drink after all the different kind of cocktails you have tried in the past months on your night outs to bars with your girlfriends from college.

A sigh falls from your lips and you take a second, much needed sip.

It feels weird to be back home in Hawkins, the town is much quieter than the big city you called home for the past year and you feel that weird tingly shudder on the back of your neck, knowing that he is so close somewhere.

Steve.

You miss him so much, you miss him everyday, but it’s been so long, you can’t even remember the last time you have talked to him. You know that he still works at Family Video and his friend Robin moved into his house with him after his parents moved away from Hawkins, for good.

But that’s all, you don’t know if he is single or if he is dating – you fear your heart wouldn’t take the information very well, which is ironic really, you haven’t seen him in so long, all you have are your memories, some of which you kept in a shoebox under your bed, pictures, notes, letters and little presents from him. Steve was nothing but a ghost these past months and yet it didn’t stop your heart from falling deeper in love… even with just the boy in your memory, the one that will haunt you for the rest of your life.

A sigh falls from your lips as you look down at the red beverage in your cup, you close your eyes and take another sip and swallow it but this time in delight, you welcome the burning in your throat.

“You still make that cute face when you don’t like something.”

The voice you have just been thinking about sounds deeper than it did when you left.

Those shudders at the back of your neck, run down your spine and transform into heat across your whole body, your heart skips a few beats.

You turn to face him, sloshing the drink around in your cup, you nearly spill it on the white tiles beneath you. Your breath hitches in your throat and your chest tightens when you look at him for the first time again, those hazel eyes that you have missed so much staring back at you with excitement yet nervousness and you have no doubt that your own eyes match the look in his.

Your lips curl into a shy smile, your cheeks heat up so quickly and you nearly crush the plastic cup in your hand when you let your eyes roam his body. He somehow got even taller, his arms look stronger and his shoulders wider, his hair got longer too, a spitcurl hanging over his forehead, his cheeks are rosy, a stubble covering his jaw and chin, your eyes move down his arm, stopping at the black hair tie around his wrist that momentarily steals your breath away and fills your chest with hope. You lick your lips and swallow as you stare at the veins in his hands.

There he stands with his stupid, still perfectly styled hair and his Levi’s that are always way too tight around his crotch, looking down at you and reminding you of how much taller he is and always was.

“Hey,” he breathes, nervously, happily.

“Steve,” you say with a smile on your lips, “hi.”

Truthfully, Steve doesn’t know what to say, your heart is beating so hard, he can feel it in his throat, he feels so nervous, you make him nervous. His charm, his flirtatious side still fades into nothing when he is around you and the world around him still disappears when he is with you, some things truly never change.

He wants to take a step closer and wrap his arms around you, he wants to hug you and never let go again but he doesn’t want to overstep so he forces himself to stay in place.

“Y-You’re back,” he smiles, trying to hide his excitement.

You nod, probably a little too quickly.

“Yeah, I’m back,” you nod again, feeling awkward and tense standing here before him after all the countless nights you spent thinking, dreaming about him.

He breathes heavily and fidgets with the hair tie around his wrist, “for the summer or…?”

You shake your head, unable to look away from his beautiful eyes.

“No, I-I transferred to uh the community college here…” You scrunch your face up when you see the surprised look on his face. “I know, lame right? Moving away from Chicago and back to your hometown is uh not the.. move.”

Not the move? He repeats in his head.

This might be the best day of his life – the day he had been waiting for, for your return.

Steve’s eyes widen, he purses his lips as he starts shaking his head, raising his hand a little, he steps closer to you.

“No! No, I’m just surprised, that’s all, I didn’t think you’d ever come back… honestly,” he chuckles nervously and brings his hand up to scratch the side of his neck. “But I’m happy to see you back here again.”

Happy is an understatement, the feelings in him can’t be put into words, they do not exist.

Your eyes soften at his words, your smile transforming into a soft one, hope swirling inside of you.

Did he miss you like you missed him?

“I’m happy to see you,” he adds, his cheeks heating up at his admission and your beauty doesn’t help his case, his eyes roam your body, your pretty features, your soft skin, the chain around your neck that looks oh so familiar, his heart starts beating faster, his hands shaking from the giddiness lingering in him. “Y-You look…” Stunning, mesmerizing, gorgeous, sexy, adorable, like an angel or a goddess. “Amazing.” He breathes, blushing red.

Your eyebrows pull together as your wide eyes fill with emotion.

You see the way he looks at you, you see the redness in his cheeks, the shyness in his eyes that surprises you the most.

You take a shaky breath, cursing at the way your cheeks heat up and glow so hotly.

“Thank you,” you say without stutter, to your own surprise. “You don’t look bad yourself, Harrington,” you smirk at him, smugness taking over your blushing features when you see him looking down in nervousness.

Did you just make Steve blush?

You open your mouth again, feeling the urge to compliment him again when a whistle interrupts you and wipes the smirk off your face, instead a look of disgust takes over your features when you turn your head to see Tommy Hagan looking you up and down with a perverted smile on his face.

He pushes his way between you, earning a glare from Steve, whose face turned stone cold and angry. Tommy grabs a red solo cup and pours himself some of the punch while he continues to give you nasty looks, chuckling when looks at your cleavage, “shit, now I get why Harrington always kept his favorite toy to himself,” he smirks and takes a sip of his drink before he steps back to wink at Steve, wiping his chin and looking back to you, “you really grew up.”

Your lips curl downwards, your brows pull together in a frown.

“Dude, what the fuck,” Steve frowns at him, giving him a disapproving look.

Tommy always made you feel uncomfortable with his comments and his weird looks, but it was something else back then. This is new, this is disgusting.

“If I knew back then that you were hiding these behind your sweaters, I would’ve definitely hit it,” he chuckles darkly as he stares at your boobs.

Bile rises in your throat and your grip tightens on your cup, the urge to throw your punch into his face growing strong.

Steve rolls his eyes, a frustrated sigh falls from his lips and he steps towards his former friend, he places his hand on his chest and pushes him back as he takes a protective stance in front of you, protecting you from Tommy’s prying eyes.

“Alright, that’s enough, asshole,” Steve mumbles angrily. “Leave her alone or I swear to–”

“You swear to what, man? You and I both know you can’t do shit,” Tommy laughs at Steve, his eyes crinkle in amusement, irritating Steve further.

Steve might’ve lost most of his fights, but he wouldn’t lose one if it came to you.

He clenches his jaw and glares down at him, feeling rage burn within him.

“Seriously dude, get lost, alright?” He demands, his voice sounding deeper, more serious than before.

You look over Steve’s shoulder, feeling safe and protected by him, the way you always did, just even more now. Your stomach flutters with warmth, your heart swelling in your chest.

To your surprise, Tommy steps away without another word, continuing to chuckle at Steve and the glare on his face. He gives you another look.

“Call me if you–”

“Fuck off, Tommy,” Steve says through gritted teeth, feeling hot rage flushing through him.

Tommy takes another sip as he walks backwards, winking at you before he finally turns around and leaves the kitchen, allowing you to finally breathe.

Steve runs his fingers through his hair and huffs, turning back to you, his features instantly soften.

“I’m sorry about him.”

You shake your head, your smile reappearing again, “it’s not your fault,” you shrug, “some people just never change.”

“Yeah…” He mumbles, wondering if you changed at all, “did you?”

Did you change? You ask yourself. Maybe, surely college has shaped you in some way, being away from home, being independent and all alone, meeting new people and being pushed into situations you would have never allowed as a teenager, did change something in you.

You got more confident, a little bolder too, you tried new things and did them without shame, something that was once impossible when you were still here and an insecure teen.

You tilt your head to the side and give him a sly smirk, “why don’t you find out?”

The anger Tommy left him with fades away, the flirtatious tone in your voice catching him by surprise and you take it even further when you take a step closer to him after placing your drink on the counter, you look up at him with your big eyes that still drive him crazy.

He doesn’t remember you to be this flirty… this bold but he can’t complain, it makes the fluttering in his stomach feel so much more intense.

Steve’s lips curl back into a smile, he blinks at you, looking into your eyes intensely, with want and need – nothing changed, if anything, the magnetic force between you has intensified, even when there was mostly only radio silence between you both in these past months.

Steve licks his lips, a sliver of his confidence slipping back in when he sees the way you look at him, eyes roaming his face and his body. Though his cheeks are still burning and his heart is still racing, no matter how much confidence he can find within himself, you are still you, you are still the girl that holds his heart in the palm of her hand, the one who has him captivated in every way possible, the one who has had him wrapped around her finger, from a very young age. You aren’t just a girl to woo and impress for a single date, you aren’t someone he would forget if a conversation or a date went wrong, you are the one he always wanted to grow old with, to experience everything with, to spend a life with the one who is his everything – one wrong move and he loses it all… again.

He doesn’t bother to ask if you are with someone, if you are dating and taken, the thought is disturbing to his heart.

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asks as he slowly reaches for your hand and you allow him to take it when you slip your palm against his and give his hand a squeeze.

He nearly crumbles to his knees when he feels your soft touch again, it’s been too long. Your hand always fit into his so perfectly, like it was made to be held by him.

You nod, whispering a sweet ‘yes, please’. That’s all he needs to hear before he pulls you closer to his body, pushing you in front of him slightly, keeping a protective stance right behind you as he never lets go of your hand, basking in the feeling of having you so close again, of being able to smell your perfume again and the sweet scent of your body wash.

He rubs circles on the top of your hand, pressing his other hand on the small of your back as he pushes through the crowds of people. He leads you to Robin first, needing to make sure that she will get home safe without him. He finds her playing beer pong with Vickie and a few of their former bandmates from high school. He taps on her shoulder and when she turns around, Steve grows more nervous than before, because her eyes grow wide when she sees you next to him, excitement flashing in them and a big grin appearing on her face after a long moment of staring at you.

She knows all about you.

She knows all about his feelings and his regrets.

She knows how much he missed you.

She was there when he cried and never stopped talking about you.

So after greeting you, probably a little too enthusiastically, she moves closer to Steve, raising her eyebrows at him and giving him a teasing, yet pointed look.

“Go and don’t worry about me, Vickie can drive, she’s not drinking tonight.”

“You sure?”

She nods, her waves bouncing as she moves her head a little too quickly.

“Steve I’m fine, go and get your girl,” she winks at him, squeezing his shoulder before she moves back, giving him another look that says nothing but ‘i mean it, don’t fuck it up this time, this is your chance.’

Steve nods at her, smiling and feeling reassured by her. He holds your hand tighter and pulls you away before you can properly say goodbye to his friend that you only know from your days in high school. You look back at her to find her staring at the two of you, grinning from ear to ear, she raises her eyebrows at you, eyes glowing as she gives you a smirk and a small wave of her hand.

You feel a little confused by the teasing look on her face but smile and wave back at her nonetheless before Steve whisks you away and out of the room.

It isn’t weird to hold each other’s hand, to be back together in his car like nothing ever happened, like you never stopped doing this, like things are still normal between you. He makes small talk, it’s not awkward or weird, it’s… nice, anything is as long as you’re with him, even the silly jokes makes or how he tries to quote Shakespeare but fails miserably, he makes you laugh and you… you make him smile.

You stop by the gas station to grab a six pack and some snacks to share before you drive to the lookout, to the place you always went to when you wanted to be alone together.

You get comfortable on the hood of his car, as comfortable as you can get on the rough surface. It’s a little chillier out here in the woods, the wind that blows through the trees makes goosebumps arise on your skin. Steve, of course, has to use the opportunity to throw his jacket around your shoulders, rubbing your arms to warm you up as he moves close enough for you to feel his breath on your skin.

You feel something stir within you, something only ever he could make you feel.

You grab the denim and pull it tighter around you, glancing at him through your lashes, you feel your cheeks heat up when you find him staring at you already, a soft smile playing on his lips that you can see, even in this darkness.

“Thanks Stevie.” A grin tugs at your lips when his smile moves into a flustered one.

Steve licks his lips, he removes his hands from your body and busies himself with opening the beer bottles for you and him, “you’re welcome, honey,” he whispers, winking at you.

You look away from him with blushing cheeks, hiding the smile on your face as you tilt your head down but nothing goes unnoticed by him, he sees the flustered expression in your features, the cute smile you’re trying to hold back.

He scoots closer to you until his shoulder is pressed against yours, he offers you the opened bottle. You glance at his hand, taking in the size of it, how big it is, how his veins pop, how long his fingers are – it makes you squirm and clench your thighs together and he notices it, he looks down and he almost regrets it, almost. Your skirt has ridden up, it nearly covers nothing, at this point. Your skin looks so smooth, thighs so soft, he wants to touch them, kiss them, feel them wrapped around his head.

His skin heats up, his lower stomach tingles, he craves you, in every way possible, he just wants to… feel you, he wants to feel you close, he wants your skin on his, he needs to know that you are truly back.

Your touch sends shivers down his spine, it makes his stomach flip.

He blinks, looking down at the bottle he is still holding, watching the way your hand curls around it, fingers grazing his own. Your hand is so much smaller than his, the urge to compare the size of his own to yours growing strong.

“Steve?”

Your soft voice pulls him out of his thoughts, he blushes, cheeks burning maroon. He shakes his head a little, squeezing his eyes shut as he furrows his eyebrows, he removes his hand from your bottle, already missing the touch of your hand.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he runs his fingers through his hair, “I got a little uh… distracted.”

He instantly regrets it when his eyes fall back on your lap again, your giggle makes him blush even deeper, he eyes you from the side, watching the way you press your lips against the bottle, you take a sip, trying to hide the smirk on your lips.

He feels a sudden sense of nervousness rushing through him – here he is, in the presence of the girl of his dreams, the girl that slipped through his fingers, the girl that should be his and he is messing up. He begins to stutter, trying to distract himself once again, this time from your legs, from your soft skin, from how much he wants to touch and kiss you, from how beautiful you are but you make him stutter, you make it difficult for him to talk, you make it impossible for him to be smooth, to flirt with you the way he always did with other girls and suddenly, he is reminded of why he was always so scared of revealings his feelings to you, there was too much at stake, he didn’t want to lose you.

He always felt so pathetic around you, like a stupid kid in love, one that can’t talk to his crush without blushing, without stuttering.

And this is exactly what you always adored about him.

But he doesn't know it, he doesn’t even realize it, he doesn’t even see the way your eyes always light up, the way they soften as you look at him, the way you admire him.

Before he even takes a sip of his beer, he already feels like he is drunk, his skin is hot, his mind hazy, he feels happy, at ease, like he is floating, all because of you, you make him feel so… light.

He is drunk on you, without having touched you properly, your presence is enough.

He wonders how you are holding up, what emotions linger inside of you — you look so calm, relaxed.

You fall into a comfortable conversation, catching up on the things you have missed in each other's lives, since being separated. And while your eyes stay glued on the night sky, only glancing at him every once in a while, he watches you, with a fluttering feeling in his chest and a smile on his lips.

You laugh with each other, getting lost in the memories that you both start bringing up, joking and slapping each other’s shoulders softly as you start to tease one another about the stupid things that you both have done in the past.

You have changed, not only physically did you get even more beautiful, you got something that you didn’t have before, a boldness that you always admired others for. You used to be so shy, anxious to ask the simplest questions, too nervous to hold eye contact for longer than two seconds, even with him, sometimes. But now, despite you choosing to look at the sky instead of him, he can tell that you are not that shy girl anymore, who was afraid to look into his eyes. You are confident, comfortable in your own skin, not afraid to be you, not afraid to gaze into his eyes when you tilt your head to look at him.

He wonders what or… who caused it, the change in you.

Was it just the circumstances? The big city that pushed you out of your comfort zone?

New friends? Being on your own? Or… was it the experiences you have made in these past few months that have shaped you from an innocent, shy teenager into a confident, young woman?

His stomach churns at the thought of the things you have done while being away from home, or better yet, who you have done them with. He has no right to be upset about it, he knows it, yet he can’t stop the sinking feeling inside of him as he thinks of the hands that have touched your body or the lips that kissed yours, if you had dated someone, if you are someone else’s right now.

The question tumbles from his lips before he can even stop himself.

“Do you have anyone?”

The storm that was just raging in his mind, the string of questions that followed now silenced as he stares at you, waiting for your answer with a racing heart and clammy hands.

The sound of crickets and the rustling of the trees are the only sounds now filling the space around you.

“You mean… a boyfriend?”

He nods and you shake your head at that. You bring the bottle up to your lips, taking a much needed sip.

“No, I don’t,” you murmur as your eyes roam his face, “why?”

You notice the frown on his face, the way his lips are curled down and his eyebrows are tightly scrunched together.

“Just wondering… someone like you still single?”

“What do you mean…?” You ask slowly.

Steve huffs, shaking his head with a smile on his face.

“I mean… Come on, honey. You’re funny, you’re smart and you’re just… you’re amazing,” he sighs adoringly, hazel eyes running up down and your face and your body. “You’re beautiful, a fucking catch.”

You almost want to scoff at his words, you want to roll your eyes and look the other way. A catch, right. A catch he never wanted. Your heart betrays you when it flutters and prompts a girlish giggle to fall from your lips.

“Stop.”

He nudges his shoulder against yours, grinning at your flustered face, “it’s the truth.”

Steve feels relieved to know that you don’t have anyone waiting on you, that there isn’t some guy out there that got the girl he always wanted.

“You have to say that,” you shake your head and drink the last drop of your beer before you throw the bottle down on the grass, making a mental note to pick it up later.

Because he is your best friend, because he was always your best friend, no matter what – so of course, he has to say these words to you.

He rolls his eyes at you, huffing, “I’m not just saying that.”

You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, the way his words can make you feel like that shy teenage girl again, you try to steer the attention away from you.

You press your palm against the cold, almost icy hood, leaning back, you tilt your head to the side and gaze at him, loving how long his hair grew, how his features are more… manly now, though the boyish grin still lingers.

“What about you?” You whisper, swallowing the bitterness on your tongue. “Got anybody, Stevie?”

He shakes his head quickly, almost frowning at your question.

“Me? No… no one really… felt right.” He says with a look of longing in his eyes, the one that is only reserved for you.

The tension in your chest disappears, almost instantly, you have an idea of what you would feel like had the answer been a different one.

“I was seeing a girl… for a while but uh… like I said, it… she didn’t feel right,” he admits with a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach.

You nod, swallowing harshly.

“Why didn’t she feel right?” You’re aware of how small, how shaky your voice sounds.

You wait, wait and wait for him to answer your question, the answer he tries to find in your eyes as it seems because he won’t stop looking at you, it’s like he is searching for something, like he is trying to figure you out, like he is trying to make sense of the question you just asked.

He doesn’t give you what you want, as always, Steve Harrington pretends like nothing happened, like nothing had been asked.

But you know what he means, you know exactly what he means, you had someone too, back in Chicago.

He was nice, he was good to you, in more ways than just one but no matter how much you tried not to think of him, you always failed. He was always there, always in the back of your mind, always ready to haunt you and remind you that he is and will always be the only one that your heart will belong to.

Your relationship was only short lived, and you left him the moment you realized how unfair it was to stay with him when your heart was somewhere else, when you couldn’t stop thinking about Steve.

Something rustles in the bushes, something echoes loudly through the woods, something that would have normally made you flinch, doesn’t even faze you now because he is here. You feel safe in his presence, you always did, not even the darkest night or the loudest storm could make you feel afraid as long as he was by your side.

And yet, you scoot closer to him, not even noticing that you do until his fingers brush against yours and sparks shoot through your entire body.

And through his.

You clear your throat and take a deep breath, “yeah… I had someone… but he didn’t feel right either.” You say softly, vulnerably as you meet his eyes again.

A soft ‘oh’ leaves his mouth and he nods, looking down at the bottle in his hand, he brings it up to his lips and downs the rest of it. He feels his stomach churning, his insides crawling at the mere thought of you with someone who isn’t him and it makes him feel awful, it makes him feel ridiculous because wasn’t that his own fault? He blew his chances with you. He let you go, hell, he didn’t even fight for you.

He puts the bottle down, wipes his mouth and runs his fingers through his hair before he turns back to you to find you staring at him just the way you always did, with your big doe eyes, those pleading and begging looks you never stopped throwing at him.

He’d have to be blind to not see it – he always did, he just never allowed himself to admit it, not even to himself, not even when you were all he ever wanted.

“Why didn’t he feel right?”

Steve watches the way your lips curl downwards, the way you squint your eyes at him, the softness fleeing as you glare at him instead.

And suddenly, the air around you feels different, tense for another reason, heavy and filled with something neither of you ever addressed before.

While you take deep breaths, trying to calm yourself – Steve tries to mend the aching in his chest, the hammering that feels just too strong.

“Why didn’t she feel right, huh?” You ask, scooting away from him and getting off the hood, placing your feet back on the ground, you don’t even bother to smooth down your skirt. You cross your arms over your chest and stand in front of him, demanding the answer you tried to ask softly before.

Steve sighs, growing fearful and anxious, feeling like he is messing up yet again, like he is about to lose again.

But you are close, so goddamn close, even through the anger in your eyes, you still stand in reach, your knees now brush against his. He straightens his back, fighting the urge to reach for your hands and just pull you into him, showing you why no one ever felt right.

He promised Robin, he promised her that if you ever came back, he would go and get you, he would come clean about it all, he would make it all right again.

“This goes both ways, Steve. You can’t just ask me and then–”

“Because no one is you.”

He won’t fail this again, no matter how scared he is, he just can’t.

Your lips part in surprise, a painful look crosses your eyes, though the anger doesn’t fade away just yet. You uncross your arms, and shake your head at him.

His words should bring you joy, shouldn’t they?

But as you stand here before him, his knees brushing your own, his golden brown eyes staring at you with nothing but love, you can’t help but feel your heart aching because why now? Why not then?

“So… it took me to leave town… go to college… for you to say this?” You whisper, holding back a choke as your eyes well up with unwanted tears.

His own eyes panic when he sees just how much pain there is inside of you, how much you hid it. He reaches forward, taking your hand in his, he sighs in relief when you don’t push him away like he thought you would.

“It was always there. Before our first kiss, before our first time, and then it never stopped. But you were… you were scary. Feeling love that strong at such a young age– it wasn’t in my plans. I was scared… I was scared of loving you and losing you. It happened before.”

His parents.

He loved them unconditionally, he loved them no matter what they did and didn’t do, he loved them and he lost them – they abandoned him and then they forgot about him.

Your eyes show nothing but pain, your heart breaks, all over again, for him.

And you’re stunned, so goddamn shocked because that word fell from his lips. Love. He loved you.

You curl your hand around his, squeezing them tightly as he gets off his car, standing tall before you again.

“You… still could have–”

“Risked it?” Steve interrupts you, furrowing his brows as he looks down at you. “No… I wasn’t going to risk it. Risk losing you…” He scoffs, shaking his head at himself, “now I see how stupid that was because I lost you anyways.”

His eyes well up with tears, his voice almost cracks and you finally… finally get to see a glimpse into his heart, how much pain he was always hiding.

“No… I don’t think you lost me.”

“Honey, we haven’t talked in–”

“What you felt for me… Is it… Is it past tense?”

Steve should see the hope in your eyes, he should hear it in your voice too, but he is so scared, so nervous at this moment.

Everything he had always been afraid of was losing you because of his feelings and he can’t help but wonder, what if he confesses his love to you now and his saddest fear creeps in and he will lose you for good, forever?

“Why do you want to know?” He asks, shakily.

You hold his hands tighter, taking another step closer until you are chest to chest. You close your eyes for a moment and take a deep breath, you look up at him, begging with your eyes, yet again. “Because I deserve to know, Steve, do you still have feelings for me?”

He takes a long pause, feeling like his heart might explode, feeling like the ground might disappear beneath him if he doesn’t finally give you the whole truth.

His eyes flicker down to your lips, the ones he craved to feel on his own for years, his body aches for you just the way his heart does, desire running deep but love taking full control, driving both his heart and his mind insane over you. He feels the pounding from his chest to his throat, his eyes glossy with tears he shed so many times over you, over his regrets.

“Yes,” he whispers, already feeling his chest deflating as the pressure slowly sinks away, “like I said, they never stopped.”

Tears spill down yours and his cheeks, his shoulders slump in relief and you, you finally breathe. You sniffle and a giggle falls from your lips, one that makes him furrow his brows but smile because now he can see the happiness in your eyes, the joy from hearing this from him.

“Oh, thank god,” you whisper and throw your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek against his chest, you hug him tightly, catching him off guard.

It takes him a moment, it takes him a very long moment.

His glassy eyes are wide, his heart is threatening to break free from his chest. He wanted this, he wanted you for so long, he feels like this is too good to be true but when he feels your tears seeping through his shirt and how you cling to his body, like you are afraid that he might disappear if you let go, he finally relaxes. His eyes close gently, tears spilling down his cheeks, he melts into your touch and curls his arms around you, cupping the back of your head, he holds you closely, tightly.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers into your hair, pressing his lips to the top of your head, he gives a first kiss again.

“I missed you, Stevie,” you murmur into his chest, holding onto his shirt.

He moves even closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck as you rise to your tippy toes, wanting to feel more of him, as though he isn’t close enough already, not even when your chest to chest.

Steve breathes in your scent, the one he used to sink his face into when it still lingered on his pillows, when he longed to feel you in his arms, when he craved you so badly but felt too cowardly to make the move he just made now.

You cling to one another, like you never have before, not even when he held you during nights you needed him the most, when you were both so convinced that you were nothing more than friends… when just friendship was never something possible between you.

Steve’s eyes are shut tightly, he is so lost in the feeling of you, feeling so warm, so safe, so loved in your embrace.

How can his heart race so fast yet feel so… calm?

You don’t know how much time passes as you stand there in each other’s arms, you are so lost in the moment, you couldn’t care less about anything around you, about the time, about your surroundings, about the world – only you and him matter, nothing more.

He cups the side of your face when you begin to pull away to look at one another, glossy eyes gazing into each other, lips begging to be connected. His fingers brush through your hair, he tucks your front pieces behind your ears and caresses your cheeks. His hazel eyes flash with adoration. You are so beautiful. It makes his heart clench in his chest.

You slide your hands up his chest, moving up to his neck and cupping his cheeks, your stomach growing with anticipation the closer you both move to each other.

No words are spoken, there is no need for them, your eyes tell everything, just like your touch when your lips finally connect.

Your hearts stop beating, time stops ticking, the world stops moving.

Everything around you stops.

Just absolutely everything.

Your eyes flutter shut, just like his.

A kiss you both never stopped craving finally happening, not only in your minds, but in reality.

Steve sighs in contentment, a whimper following close behind, your lips move slowly, softly with each other, you savor each and every second, even when you know that this is only the beginning of it all.

Nothing and no one could ever compare to this, no one could ever come between you, you are two puzzle pieces, ones that were made for only each other, no one else to match you both. It’s only you and him. Your hearts know, you know, he knows.

The way he kisses you so gently, so sensually, makes your stomach flip in ways it never did before, not even back then when you shared first and second kisses.

And Steve, he feels like he is in a dream that he never wants to wake from again, he is too scared to open his eyes and find himself in his lonely bed, surrounded by the scent of you that he only imagines, that forever lingers like a kiss upon his skin.

But your whimper is real, your lips are real, you are real, your lips taste just like they did before, sweet and peachy, like home.

You only pull away to catch your breath, smiling when Steve chases your lips with his own, nuzzling his nose against yours as a soft giggle falls from his puffy lips, “god… I missed you, princess.” He murmurs against your lips, knowing that he will keep repeating these words, over and over again, he feels like he has been blessed by the universe.

Your best friend’s eyes shine so brightly, the love in them that you always craved to see, is so evident, it’s all out in the open now, all in reach, all there for the taking – when not even a few hours ago, you didn’t even know where he was, if he still thought of you, if he still cared for you…

Tears escape your eyes and he wastes not second to catch them, to wipe them away and kiss your wet cheek.

“Please don’t cry,” he whispers, feeling like his heart might break, knowing that you have suffered just the way he did, when he thought that you moved on, that you had forgotten all about him just like everyone else did when that was never even the case, when all you did was long for him, love him, even from afar.

“I love you,” he whispers in relief, feeling like the weight of the world is off his shoulders, “I love you so fucking much, you’re my–”

You cup his cheeks and pull him down once again, kissing him deeply. “You.” Kiss. “Don’t.” Kiss. “Know.” Kiss. “How.” Kiss. “Much.” Kiss. “I.” Kiss. “Dreamed.” Kiss. “Of.” Kiss. “This.” Kiss. “Moment.”

Steve's heart flutters the way it never did before, butterflies go wild in his stomach, his eyes crinkle and he smiles so brightly, his cheeks hurt.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips, “I love you so much, Steve Harrington, you have no idea how much–”

His lips are on yours, pressed against them so strongly as he pulls you into another deep, passionate kiss before you can even finish your sentence. He kisses you in a way no one ever did before.

His thumbs linger on your cheekbones, his tongue parts your lips so effortlessly, your own clashing against his as the softness of your feelings disappears and transforms into something needy, hungry. This kiss is much faster, much rougher, much more passionate than the first, you get lost in it so quickly.

When he takes a step back and he sits back down on the hood of his car, he moves his hands down to your waist, pulling you in between his legs.

Your arms move around his shoulders, your hands get lost in his hair, fingers gripping it tightly as moans escape you. The kiss makes you feel so hot, your stomach burns, your skin feels like it’s on fire as his hands move up and down your back, slipping underneath his jacket that is still around your shoulders, under your shirt and then, he touches your soft skin with his cold hand, something that makes you shiver yet lean closer against him.

He moans against your lips, he is so intoxicated by you, needing more and more, like you’re his own personal drug. He could keep doing this, he could take you right here, right now. He could taste you, unravel you with his tongue, with his fingers, he could hold your hands and make love to you like he always wanted to, like he hoped he’d get to tonight – because he thought that this might be all he would get, a night with you, only that and no more, because how could you ever want anything more than this with him after all the times he messed up with you? After he let you slip through his fingers like it was nothing?

But this won’t stay a single night, this won’t be one that will haunt him for the rest of his life.

This will turn into more, so much more.

He doesn’t want to mess it up again, he wants to take it slow, he wants to give you everything you deserve, everything he craved to give you, all these years, everything he dreamed about, during the day and the night.

So as much as he wants this, you, your bare skin on his and your whimpers blessing his ears, you deserve more, you deserve to be taken on a date first.

“Hang on,” he whispers against your lips, cupping your cheeks again, his lips curl into an amused smile when he opens his eyes to see your smudged lipstick that is no doubt on his face now too, your hair a mess just like his own, “I want to… fuck… I want you so bad, I couldn’t stop thinking about this, about you. But I want to take it slow, I-I want to do it right this time, I want to take you on a date and–”

You cut him off with a kiss, once more. Pressing your lips against his plush ones, over and over again until it makes you both giggle. He grabs your waist and pulls you down on his lap, grabbing your cheeks, he presses his forehead to yours.

“Slow is good,” you whisper, caressing his cheek as his fingers run up and down your spine underneath the denim jacket. “I like slow.”

“Yeah?” He smiles.

You nod, though an almost sad smile makes its way on your lips, “you know, I kinda thought you forgot about me until all of this.” You wave your hand around, wiping at your wet cheek as a soft laugh tumbles from your lips.

You weren’t the only one who stopped calling, who stopped sending letters, he did too, but not for the reasons you thought, clearly.

A deep frown appears on his face, he tightens his hold on you, raising his hand up towards your face, he cups your cheek. Despite everything he just said, despite the kiss, you still don’t understand just how deep his feelings for you are, how his heart isn’t even his own because it is completely, devotedly yours.

“I could never forget you,” he whispers with a sad smile on his face, “you’re all I ever think about, now and then, even when we were kids, even when I was… King Steve,” he rolls his eyes at the nickname he used to be so proud of. “You never once left my mind, not once.”

The smile that makes his way to your lips makes his heart skip a beat, he kisses your cheek, letting his lips linger for a moment.

“So please, let me make it right, let me fix everything… go on a date with me?” He asks with nothing but hope in giddiness in his voice.

You squint your eyes and tilt your head, giving him a teasing smile as you pretend to think but his soft eyes make your teasing an impossible task at this moment, you wipe the lipstick off his mouth and nuzzle your nose back against his.

“I would love to go on a date with you, Stevie,” you whisper, feeling your heart burst from joy and love.

The one thing you always wanted, you always craved now finally happening, at a moment when you least expected it.

Coming back home made you so nervous, knowing that you would see him again after all this time of being apart, knowing that your feelings will only continue to grow, no matter the tie between you, filled you with a sense of… dread, because you couldn’t help but wonder – does he even want to see you?

But, to find out that he had spent every passing moment, thinking about you, about your past, wanting you back and willing you to come running back into his arms lights up everything inside you again – flames you have tried to put out, burning stronger than ever.

Steve’s eyes well up with tears of joy again, he cups the back of your neck, his lips brush against yours, he can’t even describe his feelings with words, so he doesn’t even try, but he shows you the happiness you brought back into his life, the happiness that was just gone when you were… gone. He kisses you, once, twice… He keeps kissing you, over and over again, unable to stop himself from going back in for more, consumed by love, by gratitude and happiness to know that you came back.

To know that you won’t haunt his what if’s.

He won’t chase your shadows wherever he will go.

Your scent won’t linger from just his memory alone.

He waited and waited, and he let the lamp burn and now… now you are here, you came back, you came back to him.

Here, at the lookout where you used to sit on your saddest days, you find your way back to one another again.

As you embrace the future written for you, you know that the rings on your fingers won't only be imaginary ones like the ones from your childhood.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington one shot #stranger things angst

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skzdarlings · 6 months ago

Text

everything ; skz ; werewolf!felix x reader

requested by @yongbbokkie: if possible, can I have Sunshine!Felix with the prompt/s: ❛ i'm waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you. ❜ and ❛ do whatever you want with me, i'm yours. ❜

((maybe it's a pining from afar situation and something puts them in close quarters and Felix just can't help himself anymore))

read on ao3

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: werewolf!au. friends2lovers. miscommunication and misunderstandings followed by resolution and smut. mentions of reader being in a past abusive relationship though the circumstances are not detailed. not omegaverse just werewolves but mentions of rut cycles and slightly different physiology.

this is, um, the wettest thing i've ever written. there is no other word for it. so much come, masturbating (reader walks in on felix), pervy masturbating using reader's stuff lol, massive breeding kink, multiple rounds, scenting, possessiveness, throat-grabbing, biting, pussy eating, squirting, dirty talk. did i mention come.

word count: 15800 words. (hope it makes up for the delay hehe)

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy <3

For a few moments, Felix is yours. There is no awkwardness, no reluctance, just dancing, just friendship.

The club is packed so tightly, the lights and music as roaring as lightning and thunder. The extra stimulation overwhelms the senses, even werewolf senses. He doesn’t think and neither do you. You just dance, finding each other in the bouncing circle of your half-drunk friend group. He smiles and you take his hand, letting him pull you across the dance floor and into his arms.

You’ve missed this smile. You’ve missed these arms.

Sure, Felix is still your best friend and he is never truly far. The distance is not literal, just emotional, and that is so much worse.

Ever since his werewolf genes kicked in, ever since a pack took him in, things have just been… different.

Right now, you can pretend nothing has changed. You are far away from ivory moons waning over woodlands, of werewolf packs and supernatural powers. His senses are diluted here, overpowered by so many moving bodies and so much wild noise.

Felix smiles, that wonderful big smile that crinkles his eyes so sweetly. Lights flash over him, his blonde hair nearly glowing, his freckles like stars. He’s your best friend again. All yours for a few precious moments.

He’s bigger than he was, you think, with a bit of a flush, as you dance closer to him, his arms circling your body. Or maybe I just never noticed before.

Felix is not very tall, but he is not small either, lean and athletic and confident in every inch of his body. It feels like he is everywhere. Every time a strobe light flashes over him, he seems a little closer. You breathe in his cologne, subtler than it used to be because his sense of smell is so powerful now, but still recognizable.

You are definitely not a werewolf, but you are captivated by that smell. Something oak, woodsy, masculine but pretty. So very Felix. You want to bathe in that smell, luxuriate in him. You spent so many nights curled into his side, sharing his bed, wearing one of his hoodies, that you associate that scent with everything good, safe, and home.

His hands dance up your sides very softly, his breath puffing across your cheek as you dance and dance. One song pours into the next. You lose track of time. In forgetting the world, you forget yourself. You slide your arms around his shoulders and press close to him.

You used to hug him like this so easily, but you have hardly touched him at all the last few months. Felix could never be cruel to anyone so he has not outright rejected your usual closeness, but it is obvious that your touch now makes him uncomfortable. The last thing you ever, ever want to do is hurt Felix. So you have followed his lead. Every time he accidentally pulls a face – a displeased twitch of his nose, an upset furrow of his brow – you have backed away.

It’s just the werewolf senses, you keep telling yourself. He’s more sensitive now, that’s all.

He still hugs the others. The werewolf boys love rough-housing, in fact, tumbling all over each other constantly.

That’s different. Yes, very different than this, right here, right now, his hands sliding down your sides – slowly, like he is memorizing the shape of your waist. He squeezes your hips and it fills you with heat. His hot face touches yours, cheek to cheek. The music is pounding, a frantic sound, but you are slow dancing, keeping to the rhythm of your heartbeats where they beat against each other.

You slide a hand up the back of his neck, into his long blonde hair. You feel the shudder move through his whole body. It makes your legs feel weak, realizing the effect you have on him. It seems impossible, especially with how much he has pushed you away, but there is no way he is shivering for any other reason. He cannot possibly be cold. The club is packed and, besides, he is not human. He runs hot.

So hot. He radiates it, burning where your bodies press together. Felix has always been the sunshine that keeps you warm, but this is a different heat. You know better than to succumb to it, knowing this moment will pass, but right now it is so easy to cling to him, to breathe him in, to feel like the world is just you and him.

The real world soon returns. It’s getting late so your friends call it a night.

“We’ll drop you off, yeah?” Chan says to you. Felix lives with him and the other wolves now. They all have their own apartments but they live in the same high-rise. You live a few blocks down, close, but not quite belonging.

“I don’t mind walking,” you say.

You do not want to intrude and you do not want to make Felix uncomfortable. He doesn’t even know Chan is offering you a ride because he standing so far away.

Felix is looking at his phone, slouched against the car while everyone organizes themselves. He is wearing a leather jacket, a white shirt, blue jeans, his long hair falling into his face. You want to brush it back, feel it between your fingers. You want to lift his face and see his smile.

But he doesn’t look at you. Now that you are outside, now that the heat has dissipated and the cold breeze carries your bland, dull, human scent, now that he can remember you are not special and not like him – now, he is someone else, and you are too, and it is cold and dreary and miserable.

“What?” Chan says. He is such a good pack leader and a good friend, but it makes him utterly oblivious to little dramas like this. “You’re not walking by yourself this late at night, don’t be crazy. Come on.”

The pack leader does not take no for an answer. Even though you are not in the pack, being human, there is no refusing Bang Chan. He grabs you by the wrist and drags you to his car.

Jeongin is in the front seat. Seungmin takes a back corner before Felix can lift his head, before he even knows you will be in the car too.

Felix looks tense when realizes he is trapped with you. Whether he takes the middle seat or the other corner, you will be beside him. If standing together outside is so intolerable, then being in a car is going to be torturous.

“I can walk,” you say to him.

“What?” He shakes his head. When he smiles, it is not his usual smile, not something real. You know the difference. His proper smile brightens you but this smile makes your heart sink. “Of course not,” he says. “C’mon. It’s late. Let’s get home, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, but he is already gone, taking all sense of home with him.

You take the middle seat. Felix rolls his window down and leans towards it. His eyes are closed the entire journey, the wind blowing across his tired face.

Seungmin is also a werewolf but he does not seem bothered by your human scent. Jeongin and Chan, the other packmates, likewise seem indifferent, chatting about everything and nothing, totally unperturbed. And you must cross paths with many werewolves during the day, but no one ever seems bothered by you.

Felix is the only werewolf who seems to have a problem with your scent. You do not know what it is that affects him so deeply. You have tried changing soaps and shampoos but nothing seems to help. It must be something natural to your human body. Humans do not smell like werewolves in general. Werewolves release pheromones that humans cannot smell, and it is important in forging interpersonal dynamics. That includes romance. Werewolves mate for life. You know they find their true mates through smell as much as the other senses. They are biologically wired to pursue their perfect match based on all those senses.

You are not a werewolf. You can never be his true mate. In the few months since he fully and rapidly developed his werewolf senses, Felix has withdrawn from you even though he promised it would never separate you.

You used to talk about what would happen if his werewolf genes activated. He comes from a family of werewolves but the gene lays dormant in certain carriers. Most werewolves develop in puberty if they develop at all. Some people never develop their wolven senses or powers. A minority, like Felix, are triggered by something in adulthood and succumb all at once.

It was always a possibility, however minute, but he promised things would stay the same. He said you were his person, that best friend did not even suffice as a word to describe your love.

You’re my world, you know, he said one night, speaking with the sort of earnest sincerity that only Felix could, his deep voice rumbling in your ear as you cuddled into him.

You wanted to say it back but you were hurting at the time. You ended a bad relationship a year earlier. It took your tender heart far too long to realize how badly your ex-boyfriend was treating you. When Felix found out the details, he was furious, though he kept it down around you. You had never seen your best friend so emotional. He became even more protective in the aftermath.

He showed you, time and time again, what real love is supposed to be. It doesn’t rush or demand, it doesn’t manipulate or coerce, and it doesn’t ask you to be small. He would hold you all night if that’s what you needed. He would make you laugh and let you cry.

You slowly realized true love had been in front of you, all this time, begging to be seen.

At least, you thought so. After such a bad relationship, you were taking it slow, and Felix never rushed you. You thought, maybe, one day…

But just when you were ready, everything changed. The werewolf gene unexpectedly activated. Felix was admitted to a wolven hospital and underwent his first transformation under a full moon. When he came home, he was different. Sure, he was still Felix, with his long dyed hair and his many freckles and his sun-kissed skin, but his brown eyes were so very different when he looked at you.

If he looked at you, which he avoids these days.

“Home sweet home,” Chan says, parking the car outside your apartment building.

Felix wastes no time getting out of the vehicle, practically spilling onto the sidewalk in his haste. He holds the door for you but averts his gaze.

You thank Chan, say good night to the other boys, then you shuffle across the seat and step out of the car. Felix still does not look at you, pretending he is distracted with something across the street.

You are a little tipsy, your emotions easily riled. You want to say good night so it will finally prompt him to look at you, but you are suddenly very choked up. Thoughtlessly, you touch his arm instead.

He flinches. It feels worse than a slap.

You do not look at him again, hurrying to the building before he can see the tears in your eyes.

Miraculously, you hold them in until you reach your apartment. You are one foot in the doorway when the tears spill, all the emotions you’ve suppressed over the last few months finally flooding free. The door falls closed with a slam and the whole world collapses under you.

You drop right there, knees pulled up to your chest and face buried in your hands.

You spent so many nights like this, crying all alone until you worked up the courage to tell Felix about your bad relationship. He was immediately understanding. It was so foolish to fear he would ever judge you. He put an arm around you and held you all night.

He is the person you want to call when you are hurting. It is agonizing to be without him. He is the one person you need and the one person you cannot call right now.

You let yourself feel sorry and miserable. When the tears have subsided and you are slouched against your door, empty and tired, you make a decision to end this. You have spent too much of your life collapsed on the floor and crying on your lonesome. You refuse to do it again.

As horrible as it is, you need to distance yourself from Felix. This slow deterioration of your relationship is excruciating. If he decides to reach out, you will be there, but you simply cannot continue to compromise yourself.

You somehow manage to wash up and get in bed. You sleep through the morning and rise late, delaying the inevitable a little longer by scrolling on your phone. Felix used to be the first text of the day but there is nothing from him. You would usually message anyway but today you put your phone aside and get out of bed.

So much of Felix is in your apartment. Borrowed hoodies, games, books, and so much more. Items are littered everywhere from the bedroom to the bathroom to the kitchen and back. It takes an hour and you are not sure you find everything because he is so inextricably woven into your living space. You do not even see it anymore because it – because he – is always there.

You fill a cardboard box. Your plan is to walk the couple blocks to the high-rise and return it with a vague explanation. You are not sure what to say. Perhaps it is best to opt for brevity. After all, this is not a break-up because you are not a couple.

No, you think, staring at the full box with watery eyes, this is worse.

You make it a few steps out your door before you drop the box. It is way, way too heavy for you to carry two feet, never mind two city blocks. Already panting with exertion, you stare at the box taking up a huge slab of the narrow corridor.

You really don’t want to ask him to come get it, nor do you want to make multiple trips. You are scared that if you give him the opportunity, he will try and reassure you that nothing is wrong and you don’t need to do this. You’ll believe him in the moment, but then it will start all over again.

Like ripping off a bandage, it has to go all at once. It’s time to heal.

You push the box, budging it down the corridor inch by slow inch. You reach the elevator and press the call button. You calculate the logistics of pushing and shoving the box for two blocks, mostly concerned the cardboard will rip if it snags on something outside.

Lost in thought, you don’t see a person in the elevator and accidentally shove the box at him. He yelps, a loud cry of surprise as he jumps aside. It makes you leap out of your skin, shooting upright to look at him.

Some of your despondency leaves at the friendly face of your neighbour.

“Changbin!” you say. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even see you there.”

“Hey now,” he says, winking, his handsome face plastered with a grin, “I’m not that short.”

“No, of course not,” you say, laughing along with him.

Changbin is a werewolf as well. There are a lot of packs on this side of town because the large national park is nearby. The wolves like to use the expansive forest when the full moon cycle swings around.

“Moving out?” he asks with an eyebrow quirk.

“Ah,” you say. “Not quite.”

You explain your predicament, that the box belongs to a friend and you need to somehow reach his apartment building two blocks away. Changbin, ever the charmer and ever the helper, immediately offers his aid.

“Oh, you don’t have to—” you start, but he has already swung the big box into his arms.

Werewolves do have supernatural strength. Changbin looks strong, with big biceps and a stocky frame, never mind the supernatural enhancement. He doesn’t even break a sweat. The box might as well be empty for all the difference it makes to him.

He is kind enough to walk two blocks to the high-rise. You chat on the way and find the conversation flows easily. You also can’t help but notice he has no problem with your scent. It really is just Felix who seems so repulsed.

You ring the buzzer for Felix’s apartment but there is no answer. You try a couple more times, embarrassed because Changbin is waiting. Fortunately, he is very non-plussed, humming to himself while you ring the buzzer.

After a few tries, you ring Chan instead. He answers promptly and you explain the bare bones of the situation, that you have a box for Felix and you would appreciate if he could pass it along. Chan agrees, of course.

Maybe it is for the best. You can leave the box with Chan and not even have to confront Felix at all.

Chan buzzes you into the building. Changbin walks you to the elevator where he puts the box down. You thank him profusely but he waves it off and states he was happy to help.

It looks like he wants to say something more, looking at you while he rubs the back of his neck. In the end, he says he will see you around and departs.

You exhale. The worst of your nerves have dissipated since Felix is not even home. You have been the one instigating your interactions the last few months so you figure if you just quietly step back, he won’t even notice.

It pains you to admit it, that you could disappear from his life and he would just… not care. You stuff those feelings down, down, down for now. You prepare a friendly smile for Chan so he doesn’t ask too many questions.

When you reach the pack floor, you give the box a good shove into the corridor. Chan lives directly across from the elevator so you don’t have far to go.

Except there are voices in the corridor. You turn towards the sound.

An awful chill freezes in your blood, your whole body going rigid at what you see.

Felix is home. He is standing in his open doorway, half-dressed in a pair of jeans and nothing more. His long hair looks more dishevelled than usual, like someone has been running their fingers through it.

Someone. He is talking to a young woman. You don’t know her too well, simply that she is the only female werewolf in Chan’s small pack. She is wearing more clothes than Felix but still very casual in shorts and a t-shirt, barefoot like this is her home. You suppose it is, much more her home than yours.

She belongs. You do not.

Her and Felix are standing close while they converse. So close. They speak to each other in hushed tones, her expression tender and sympathetic while Felix winces in seeming pain. The details of their conversation are inarticulate at a distance but their voices are nonetheless audible.

Your scent reaches Felix first. He straightens so fast it would be comical under any other circumstances.

Nothing is funny right now. You feel like a complete and utter fool, standing in his corridor with a box of his things like he cares about them at all. He has already moved on. You were in denial, a stupid little human girl still clinging desperately to old memories.

“I better go,” the woman says. She leans up and kisses Felix on the cheek, gives him a little wink and mumbles something only he can hear. She turns and walks into the apartment next door, giving you a genuinely friendly wave. She has always been polite to you and you have no reason to dislike her. You can only wave back pathetically.

Your hand slaps your side when she disappears into her apartment. You and Felix look at each other.

He looks guilty. Sweat dots his hairline, streaks his bare chest, and his face is flushed. It is very obvious what he has been doing all morning.

The thought of such a fantasy was once tantalizing. The sight of him, like this, would make you dizzy. You remember the last time he casually took off his shirt, the swoop of desire that moved inside you, a sensation you did not even know you could still feel after your bad relationship.

Now that swoop is just nausea. There is no pleasure in it at all.

You are completely mortified.

“Hey,” Felix says. His deep voice breaks on a high-pitched twinge. He clears his throat. “Um,” he says. He runs his fingers through his hair, mussing it even more. He can’t seem to bring himself to meet your gaze, eyes darting all over the corridor but never you.

You curl your fingers, nails pressing hard into your palm.

“Look,” he says, clearing his throat again. “We need to talk about—”

You don’t want to hear it. You can’t hear it. You are hurt and embarrassed and devastated. Why couldn’t he just tell you he wanted to pursue a werewolf? It makes sense, biologically, and you can hardly fault him for the desire. Honesty would have hurt but not like this. Now you have to suffer the rejection of the only man you ever truly loved and suffer the fact you were not even worth a conversation.

It is too late to talk.

“It’s fine, Felix,” you say. All your messy, menial scripts crumble in your mind. Emotion takes over, bitterness and pain and irritation. “I brought you your things,” you say, pointing to the box. His eyes dart there for the first time, brow furrowing. “If I find anymore, I’ll give them to Chan. He’ll pass them along.”

“Um, what?” He looks from the box to you.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you say, blinking back tears. Your feelings come out in fragments, word after word with little coherency. “After everything I went through last year – I just – this is too much. The werewolf thing – I just – I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t have you in my life like this. Thank you for your friendship. The memories will always be important to me. But it’s for the best we don’t see each other again.”

You had not planned on so much finality, but that was before. Now you need to leave. If you stay here another second, you are going to fall apart.

“Good luck with everything,” you say.

You turn to leave but he says your name. You suck in a breath, wait a beat, and slowly turn back around.

Felix walks partway down the hallway, his whole face screwed up with pain and confusion. His mouth is moving but no words are coming out. Finally he closes his eyes and shakes his head, slamming a hand into his hair.

“Hold on,” he says. “Hold on, I – what are you talking about? You – you don’t want to be friends? How can – You can’t—” That deep voice breaks again, fracturing with emotion.

A part of you knows that you are being too harsh, letting your own emotions dominate your words. Another part of you is too heartbroken to care.

“It’s for the best,” you say weakly, your voice barely more than a breath of a sound. “Really.”

“For the best?” he asks, voice pitching up again. He has not looked at you so intensely for so long. “How can you say that to me?”

Much to your horror, he starts crying first. His tears seem to catch him by surprise too, his expression puckering as he tries to stop it. A hand flies up, covering his eyes. He shakes his head rapidly.

“Felix,” you whisper.

“For the best?” he repeats. He drops his hand and takes a shuddering breath.

You avert your gaze. You can’t stand to look at his eyes so full of tears, his face so strained with hurt.

“Did something happen?” he asks, taking a few more steps towards you. “Was it – was it me? You said – the werewolf thing – Did I do something? Please, please tell me.”

He doesn’t even realize how much he has withdrawn from you. He is bad at controlling his face, as evidenced now, so he probably has no idea how blatant his repulsion has been. Maybe he thought he was being subtle. Maybe he thought you wouldn’t care, that you were just his friend and you would be content to relegate yourself to the sidelines of his life. Maybe that is all your fault after all.

If you were a better friend, you would have coped with his new feelings. You would have been happy for him. If you were a better friend, maybe he would have told you sooner.

“You deserve a better friend than me,” you say.

He looks at you like you are completely crazy, his head tilted, his eyes narrowing.

“What?” he asks. “Where is this coming from? Please, I don’t understand. You can’t be saying what I think you’re saying.”

“I already told you,” you say, as calmly as you can. “I just can’t do this anymore. Our lives are heading in different directions and I – I – I just need to go. I want to go. Please.”

You have known Felix all your life. You were children together, hapless youths on a playground that immediately loved each other with the easy, thoughtless affection of childhood.

He reminds you of that child now, innocently standing in the corridor with his arms hanging limp at his sides and so much bewilderment on his freckled face.

“You want to go?” he repeats, voice low, soft.

You nod. After a second, he nods back, bottom lip still quivering. A fresh stream of tears spill over his eyes. He hiccups on a sob, turning away and covering his face.

“Fine,” he says, speaking between shaky breaths. “Go. I can’t – I can’t keep you here if you want to go.”

“Thank you,” you say softly. The elevator is still waiting when you press the call button. You step onto it and say, “Good bye, Felix.”

As the doors close, you hear another choking sob. You name is lost in the sound.

The door closes.

The regret is instantaneous. You stare at your phone for hours and even debate returning to his apartment, but in the end you do nothing.

You replay every moment, from seeing him with the other werewolf to his confusion and your departure. It was a long, long walk home, tears streaming down your face as your mind went back even further, remembering every moment of your friendship.

How could this have happened? You and Felix have always been open with each other. He was the first person you confided in about your bad relationship and he immediately did everything to save you from it. But when it was the other way around, when the werewolf gene activated, he turned away from your friendship. You poured your heart out to him, trusting he would catch it and keep it safe, but he did not feel the same way.

Secrets, confusion, heartbreak. It plays on a loop in your mind.

It is the middle of the night when you get a text. He has not messaged in a while, not in a substantial way. If you scroll back on your phone, you can see the disintegration of communication, the days when he would send message after message with any and every thought slowly petering down to brief replies and a vague acknowledgement at the very best.

This message is more. You can hear his voice when you read it, can picture those dark eyes.

Tell me this isn’t real. Please.

You feel sick. You are angry at him for being the one to withdraw only to suddenly turn on his heel. You are angry at yourself for reacting so drastically and immaturely. Mostly, you are just sad.

If I did something, I’m sorry, he writes. I’ll never stop being sorry. I’ll fix it. I’ll keep my distance. Just don’t say I can never see you again.

You type a reply, then delete it, then repeat.

You say nothing. Every time you try, you see him and her in that corridor, you see him flinching from your touch, you see him recoiling at your scent. It twists and tangles with memories of warm nights and tender smiles. You wipe your tears and remember when he did it for you, his thumb so gently sweeping your cheek. He used to touch you like you were precious to him. Now he flinches from your touch.

He does not text the next day, or the day after, or the day after that. You are not sure if it is better or worse.

After about a week, he messages again, stating, I miss you.

You are at your work desk but he immediately seizes your full attention, as he always has.

You stare at your phone. You take a breath. You have had a few days to decompress, to let the wound bleed. It is still sore to the touch.

You write, I miss you too.

You do not check your phone for a while, listening to the relentless buzz as he sends eager message after eager message. It feels like the old days for a minute, but slows to a stop when you do not reply. You read them back later, his pleading, his sweetness. It makes you spiral, on the one hand wanting to take it all back, but on the other hand picturing his flinch, his disgust, knowing it is only a matter of time before your heart breaks again.

You do not reply. He takes the hint and gives you a few more days, then he messages, I still have your stuff in my place too, you know?

I know, is all you say. I have more of your stuff too.

As predicted, you have been finding his things all over the apartment. Even things which are technically yours are still stamped with his memory. He helped you move into this place after the break-up. He took you shopping and paid for so many things to get you back on your feet. Everything from blankets to cushions to plates make you think of him. This was just a room before he made it a home. Without him, it is just a room again.

There are a couple days of silence, then some of his packmates start messaging you. You don’t think he is sending them after you, as Felix would never manipulate or coerce you like that. They reach out of their own volition, curious because they have not seen you in a while. But it is all so overwhelming, so you throw your phone under a pillow and go for a walk.

That is when you run into Changbin again. His smile is charming as ever when he strikes up a friendly conversation.

“I was wondering,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, not-so-inadvertently flexing his big bicep when he does, “I was going to ask a couple weeks ago, when I helped you with that box – ah, I was kicking myself after because I didn’t see you for a while. But – I thought we had a nice conversation. Maybe you and me could do something.”

“Do something,” you repeat. It sounds like he is asking you out which is a little perplexing, because he is a werewolf and you are a human. Surely nothing serious can come of it. You used to think it was possible, as there are plenty of movies and romance novels to prove it, but your personal experience has led you to other conclusions.

“A date,” he clarifies, grinning that handsome smile. “You and me. My treat. No pressure. I just think you’re clever and, ah, very beautiful, and I want to know you better.”

A polite rejection is on the tip of your tongue. You are not in any emotional state to try dating someone right now. But you think of Felix and that woman in the corridor, and you think of your phone buzzing, and you think of another long, lonely night stewing in it all.

Changbin must be looking for something casual anyway. A werewolf would not truly settle down with a human. Maybe this is a good opportunity to put yourself out there.

“Sure,” you say. “I’d like that.”

Changbin takes you out a few days later. You actually do enjoy yourself. He is very charming and it is easy to talk to him, plus the date itself is very fun. He takes you out for food then to an arcade, flopping at every game in a hilarious spectacle.

“I’m a werewolf,” he complains later. “I’m strong! Those games were rigged.”

You giggle, wrapping yourself up in the jacket he leant you. You are walking back to the apartment building, the warm evening giving way to a cool night as you make the trek. It is enjoyable until you reach the building, at which point you start to panic. Does he expect to be invited into your apartment? Does he expect… more? The thought leaves you dizzy and not in a good way. Changbin is so very handsome and so very likable. Going out with him showed you that you can enjoy yourself without the crutch of a lifelong friendship.

You don’t need Felix.

But you still want him.

You try to go back and find the moment it all went wrong, try to picture a different ending, but it feels impossible. A foolish fantasy from a girl still clinging to the dying dredges of hope and affection. There is a wonderful, handsome man at your side, a werewolf at that, and your mind is somewhere else.

Changbin remarks on it, politely but nonetheless curiously. He gives you a penetrating look, like he knows something is wrong and there is no use lying.

You sigh.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I just… I recently broke-up with a friend.”

“With a friend?” he asks, eyebrows jumping with surprise. “What kind of friend?”

“A close one, very close,” you say. “We’ve known each other forever, you see. He’s the most wonderful person I have ever known. He’s good to everyone, open-hearted, kind, warm. I have truly never known a better man. He just makes every room a little brighter when he’s in it. You would like him, I think. Everyone does. He’s a werewolf but the transformation only happened for the first time this year. Since then…” You sniffle. “Things have been different. Werewolves are biologically wired to be with other werewolves and form packs… I think my human status just started affecting him negatively.”

“Biology,” Changbin says like it is a foreign word. He looks at you with a cocked eyebrow. “It exists, yeah, but werewolves still have hearts, you know? It’s nice finding other werewolves so you aren’t alone, but it isn’t necessary. Love is complicated.”

That does give you pause for a moment. A logical part of you knows it is true, that plenty of werewolves make relationships work with humans, but that is almost harder to accept. If it’s just biological, then it cannot be helped. But if it’s a choice—

“So he isn’t biologically wired to hate me now that he’s a werewolf,” you say miserably. “It’s just something he chose to do.”

“Now, I didn’t say that,” Changbin says. “But, if that is what happened, he’s an idiot. If you were that obviously in love with me, ah, I wouldn’t let you go that easy.”

“I’m not in love with him…” The lie tumbles without an ounce of confidence. Changbin just gives you an amused look. Embarrassed, you drop your gaze. “It doesn’t matter,” you say. “He doesn’t feel the same way. Believe me, I know how he’s been looking at me, or how he won’t. That’s why I walked away. I was holding onto a friendship that once was and a fantasy that will never be. It’s time to be reasonable.”

“Ah, I don’t think love is very reasonable,” he says. “But you should stay true to yourself and do what’s right. And, in the mean time, if you need a friend…”

You exchange smiles. A weight lifts off your shoulder as Changbin changes the subject to friendship between you.

“I would like a friend,” you say. “Thank you, Changbin.”

“Ah, it’s been fun. But give me back my jacket,” he teases. “Since we’re friends I don’t need to impress you. I’m cold.”

“I thought werewolves run hot,” you say, laughing. You shrug off the coat and hand it to him.

“Eh, a little bit, maybe more than humans. But the blood really only gets hot during a rut cycle,” he says.

It is a casual statement. He is too preoccupied with zipping up his jacket to notice you get a little flustered.

You know a bit about ruts, namely that werewolves have a cycle which span a few days every month. It’s a fertility and reproduction thing, pushing developed werewolves to find mates and, well, mate them. It is a common part of the werewolf lifestyle so it is fair for Changbin to so casually mention it.

It is not because of Changbin that you feel flustered. You are thinking about Felix that night at the club, how burning hot he was compared to everyone else. Now that you think of it, not even Chan felt so hot when he grabbed your wrist, nor Seungmin beside you in the car. Felix, though, was radiating heat. Was he starting a rut cycle? Perhaps that explains why he was so hot and sweaty the next day during your confrontation.

You remember the other werewolf in the corridor. Your heart sinks again. Was she helping him through his rut? Then again, she left the second you arrived. Why were they even in the hallway? If she was spending his rut with him, surely they would have been inside together, not yapping in the hallway...

“You look worried,” Changbin says.

You are gnawing your bottom lip, eyes darting around as you contemplate that day. At his words, you blink to attention, doing your best to shake the anxiety.

“It’s nothing,” you say. “I’m just confused about so many things right now.”

“You know, if this guy really is so great and wonderful – and I think he is, if someone like you loves him so much – then he will probably be happy to answer your questions so you don’t feel so confused.”

“Ugh.” You slap a hand over your eyes and shake your head. “Why do you have to be so decent and mentally competent and right?”

“Jutdae,” he says, then flexes an arm and squeezes a bicep through the jacket. “And lots of protein.”

You laugh again. With a few more words of thanks and a promise to catch up again soon, you give him one final good night hug. He says he might meet up with some friends so you part ways, Changbin strolling while you head inside.

You look at your phone, considering his words as you ride the elevator to your floor. Changbin is right. Giving Felix the silent treatment is not helping you or him. Even though the conversation will probably be uncomfortable in so many ways, you should talk to him. It might not repair anything, but at least you will have closure. That wound cannot heal so long as it is still bleeding and festering.

You are drafting a text message in your head when you step off the elevator.

Then you lift your eyes and stumble to a stop.

Felix is sitting outside your apartment door. He is wearing jeans and a blue flannel, a denim jacket on top of that. A habitual joke is on the tip of your tongue, seeing him so decked out in his favourite colour. It disappears at the morose look on his face.

His long blonde hair is down around his shoulders, neglected black roots peeking at the crown of his head. He looks a little wan and very tired, his head lolled to the side.

He scents you before he sees you, eyes fluttering closed for a second, then he looks at you.

He really looks at you.

Felix always has such a softness in his gaze, but this look is searing. It moves through you, a forceful heat twining its way around your insides. It holds you in captivated thrall as he stands, one black boot thumping against the ground with the force of his push as he straightens himself out.

That piercing looks crinkles as more of your scent registers to him. His face twists with revulsion, except it is even more severe than usual. It is so disturbed that it makes you think his past expressions were not disgust at all, because this face is so terrorized by whatever he smells.

“Where were you?” he asks.

You have been staring at each other in silence for so long that his voice reverberates loudly in the corridor. It makes you jump as the smoothness of his deep voice pours into you. It’s only been a few weeks since you last heard him speak, but somehow you forgot how profoundly that voice could affect you, especially when he drops it so deliberately.

“Out,” you say. You are so flustered that your body goes into defense mode, your tone sharp when you say, “I don’t need your permission for that.”

That softens the slash of his gaze. He shakes his head.

“No,” he says softly. “Of course not. I’m sorry.”

His apology is so sincere, eyes searching yours for something beyond the surface. You feel like he is speaking to you without words, somehow conveying a lifetime of love in the way he looks at you, saying, it’s me.

You soften too, in every way, your voice and your posture, your heart and everything inside you. So soft and malleable, all that heat expanding in every direction until you can imagine yourself radiating it like he did. It feels so inappropriate to be aroused when there is so much drama between you, when a serious conversation needs to be had. But he is looking at you so intensely, colours of emotions playing across his face. A shaking breath draws your gaze to his lips.

He says your name. It feels like a touch. You feel dizzy again, this time in a very good way, despite yourself.

You hear his sharp intake of breath as you step a little closer. Your scent is affecting him. It makes him do a double-take, looking at you up and down without any subtlety. It is blatant, searching. For lack of a better word, predatory, a wolf on the prowl, scenting something it wants, maybe needs. Your skirt is long, sweeping past your knees, but you feel like he can see past it somehow.

His eyes, low on your body, flick up to your face. Your knees knock. That hungry look twists into something repulsed again, his brow furrowing. It darkens his whole face.

Of course. He is disgusted with you and your boring human scent and he always has been. You cannot give into hopeful delusions.

“What are you doing here?” you ask in your most casual tone, striding up to him like you are unaffected by his presence.

He steps to the side, staring while you fumble around in your purse for your keys.

“I wanted to talk,” he says.

You stare into your bag, rifling through mint wrappers and lipsticks and bus tickets. You can feel his eyes, practically burning a hole in the side of your head. You want to be chill, want to laugh and tell him he’s acting weird, to knock it off. You want to be indifferent, remind him there is a distance between you now and his staring is not appropriate.

Then he puts a hand on the door, near your head. He moves around you, undeniably scenting you as he goes. His other hand comes around the other side, caging you between him and the door. Your back is to him but you can still feel his gaze, shivering when he breathes you in.

You swallow, cringing at the wave of arousal that moves through you when his nose brushes the back of your neck.

Werewolf instincts, you remind yourself, trying to find the resolve to snap him out of it, except that’s not what you want. You want him to press right against you and put his mouth on your neck, to taste everything he is scenting.

Until you remember he hates the scent. So much so, he makes a guttural noise that sounds like a growl, rumbling at the base of his throat.

You expect him to flinch and move away. You imagine him shaking his head as he abandons his efforts to reconcile because you’re just not worth it.

You are not expecting him to say, “Why do you smell like another werewolf?”

“What?” you say. “I – I don’t—”

“Yes, you do,” he says, taking another deep breath. “It’s all over you. Who is he?”

Oh, you have been wearing Changbin’s jacket for the last half-hour. You did not notice any smell but you are not a werewolf. To Felix, you must be utterly smothered in it. You wonder if it smells like a sex pheromone, given Changbin was taking you on a date, maybe permeating a desire your human senses did not notice.

Whatever it is, it has Felix riled in a way you have never seen before. He has been very careful to hold himself in check around you. The worst of his werewolf symptoms have been hidden from the start. It is part of why you are so hurt, that he would not trust you with it.

Now it overrides his good sense. His nose swipes the back of your neck again, his fingers curling against the door where his hands sit.

“He’s just a friend,” you say.

“A friend,” he repeats. “He doesn’t smell like a friend.”

“Well, he is,” you say. All your desire, heartbreak, and desperation swell inside you, bursting like a firework, hot and crackling. With a pounding heart, you turn around to face him, intent on confrontation when you snap, “Why would that even matter to you?”

You look into his eyes. He is so close, arms around you, that woodsy scent enveloping you. It feels like coming home, falling into his gaze, letting the heat wash over you as he stares back. There is something animalistic about his intensity, a predator with its hackles raised, sights set and hunger striking.

“Felix,” you whisper, voice heavy with a thousand questions that never manifest.

One hand leaves the door. He grabs the back of your neck, not roughly, not cruelly, but with an undoubted and irrevocable command. It makes another firework burst inside you. You gasp.

That gasp is interrupted when he dives in without any hesitation, his mouth thoroughly claiming yours in a hot, desperate kiss.

Whenever you dared to fantasize a kiss with Felix, it was always soft, a little brief, giving it time to grow. You never imagined so much heat overwhelming you all at once, that his mouth would be so ravishing. You didn’t even know a kiss could move through your whole body, that when he puts his tongue in your mouth it would feel like he is already fucking you, your body throbbing with want.

It is not just werewolf instinct because you react too. You drop your purse on the floor and put your hands on him, one on his chest and the other his neck, clinging to him like he clings to you. He takes it as invitation, his other hand leaving the door to hold your waist. His grip is powerful, but despite the supernatural strength it does not hurt. No, Felix would never hurt you. Oh, it was so stupid to think he ever would.

He makes a sound that has you whimpering in turn, the low grunt pressing at your most vulnerable places. The kiss is open-mouthed, hot and wet and messy.

He walks you back that final step, pressing you to the door. He cups the back of your head so you don’t hit it.

You grab the collar of his denim jacket and yank on it, pulling him even closer. You are completely delirious with him. Everything that has happened and everything that will happen is wholly unimportant as he slots his whole body along yours.

His leg pushes between your thighs, his hips pinning you to the door. The thought would have you terrified a year ago, but now it just feels right. Of course it feels right, because this is Felix, who has seen you at your most vulnerable and healed you, who has caught you every time you fall. He will always fix what hurts. He will always take care of you.

Your body knows it, begging for him, hips rearing towards him. It presses his thigh against the juncture between your legs, makes it so your flimsy skirt doesn’t matter at all. You are not thinking when you start to rock against him.

You forgot your body could feel so much pleasure.

“Oh, fuck—” he says, his already deep voice somehow even lower as he curses.

You squeak as he holds you against the door, deliberately rocking his thigh between yours with more pressure and speed than you could manage. It makes a torrent of mortifying sounds spill past your lips, but he gathers them all up lovingly, tastes them on his tongue as he chases down your gasping breath. Every little mewl, every breath, every squeaking hiccup is swallowed up by him.

“Come for me, please,” he whispers, roughly. It sounds like begging despite how much physical power he has over you. It would scare if it was someone else, but that supernatural strength doesn’t matter because it bends to you, waiting for your permission.

You just barely remember you are in the corridor. You hope no one chooses now to step out of their apartment. You wonder if the other werewolves on the floor can scent whatever pheromones Felix must be giving off.

It doesn’t matter. You’re hurtling towards an orgasm and you can’t stop it. You’re going to come on him, just like this, fully clothed but so wet that you can feel it gushing as he grinds his thigh against you.

You grab onto his belt, feeling the curve of his bulge just below your palm. It makes his breath stutter and it makes you surrender. Your body seizes and your pussy throbs as you come, a strangled cry in your throat while rocking desperately against him.

It settles slowly, the world coming back in increments. You are breathing hard, clinging to each other, bodies still pressed so tightly together. You can feel his heart beating hard and fast. It keeps rhythm with the lingering thrum below.

So much for conversation. Grinding all over Felix in a semi-public space was not in the plan at all.

“Oh my god,” you say, voice breaking as you are hit with realization. You push at him and he goes obediently.

“Fuck,” he says, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head. He runs his hands through his hair, shakes out the length of it while breathing erratically.

Your heart is still pounding. You put your hand over your chest like that will calm it down.

Felix looks at you.

You recognize this look.

This look – this is the face you have been mistaking for disgust. Now that you have seen him truly reviled, snarling at Changbin’s scent on your body, you realize it is not disgust, not at all. It’s pain, a wincing, cringing desperation as he fights to keep everything inside him.

It is barely contained right now, his chest still heaving, his fly still bulging, hands shaking at his sides as he stares at you with open need.

“Oh my god,” you say again. You lean against the door for support, closing your eyes to try and make sense of the world. You see the events of the last month play out, the months before that, going back further and further until you shake your head to clear your mind. “I just—” You open your eyes, meet his anxious gaze. “Just give me some time,” you say. “I – I need to think – I’m so—”

“It’s okay,” he says, hands out to placate you, but careful not to touch you. He forces himself to smile despite his own emotional tumult. Sweat breaks out on his hairline. “Take your time, I – I’m sorry, I didn’t come here to—I just wanted to talk—I—”

“I know,” you say. “I know.”

He nods sharply, clearing his throat as he turns awkwardly to the side. He points vaguely behind him, stutters something like, “I’ll go, um, I’ll just—”

He turns on his heel and walks away, taking the corner to the stairwell so fast that you blink and he is gone.

You can hear him bounding down the stairs. You stand there, listening until he is too far to hear.

With every limb shaking, you pick up your purse and finally fish out your keys. You manage to turn the key in the lock and step inside before you crumple to your knees.

This time your thoughts are a very different whirlwind, just as confused and just as emotional, but so conquered by sensation that you find yourself just sitting there, touching your lips, thinking of him.

There is a lot to think about.

You realize you have been wrong about so many things. You and Felix should have spoken a long time ago. You have both been skirting each other, tentatively regarding the other, worried you might hurt them. It resulted in you both getting hurt anyway.

You are so, so scared of making that hurt worse. It makes you hesitate.

A day goes by. Felix respects your space. On the second day, when you contemplate reaching out for a conversation – a real conversation – your phone buzzes.

You are surprised to see that it is Bang Chan.

Hey, he writes. I need to talk to you right now. It’s about Felix.

Your heart-rate shoots through the roof, terror obliterating every other emotion.

Is he okay? you write. What happened??

Look, I’m just gonna say it, Chan writes. Felix is in rut. You know what that is?

Yes, you say.

At first, you are relieved he is not hurt and it is something so mundane. Then you are flustered as you recall the other night. You remember the heat between you, the way you came on his body and the way he begged for it. Even now, you are more aroused than embarrassed, shivering as you remember the way he looked at you.

Right, Chan says. Look I promise I’m not asking you to sleep with him or something. I wouldn’t do that. You have no responsibility for anything. But you also gotta know that dumb kid is in love with you, right? Like… insane in love. Like… won’t let anyone else see him or help him even though he’s a new werewolf, hasn’t had that many ruts, and it hasn’t even been a whole month since the last one.

You watch as each text appears, your adrenaline building with every word. The phone shakes in your tight grip.

Didn’t someone help him with his last rut? You ask. I saw her at his apartment.

What??? Chan answers quickly. No. I sent her over to see if he needed anything, because he kept telling me to fuck off because I was telling him to call you. I’m telling him again but he still won’t listen. You know he thinks he’s a monster right?

You are still reeling from the revelation that he and the girl were not an item at all, that they were truly just having a conversation. He was flushed and sweaty because he was in rut, not because he spent all morning with her. You were the one racing to conclusions, not even giving him a chance to explain. You remember him stepping towards you, asking to speak, but you cut him off before he could. You assumed he just wanted to reject you.

Chan says Felix is in love you. Is it possible that after a conversation with another wolf, he was gathering the courage to tell you, only for you to say you never wanted to see him again?

Now you read the last message and your heart sinks, a painfully heavy weight in your gut.

A monster? you write. What do you mean?

That doesn’t even make sense. Felix is the kindest, most loving man you know. Assuming werewolves are monstrous is such a medieval thought that it never occurred to you for a second that he would feel that way.

Yeah, Chan says. Look, he never told me the details because he said it wasn’t his story to tell, but he told me that you went through something really hard and that was why he didn’t want to stress you out with the werewolf thing. It can be pretty intense, especially at the start, and especially when you’re already an adult. He spent his whole life thinking he was one thing only for everything to change really quickly. He was really scared of coming on too strong and losing you because of it.

You made his worst fears come true, you realize, numb as you stare at the screen.

You know Felix, Chan writes, He’d rather just suffer alone than have someone else feel it too. I told him to trust you more, that you would want to help, but there’s no getting through to him when he’s like that. I love the guy but he can be kinda stubborn.

You both have a stubborn streak. The last month of drama attests to that.

What do you want me to do? you ask. You have more answers but you feel just as lost as before, maybe even more.

Can you just talk to him please? Chan says. He holed himself up in his apartment and he won’t let anyone in. He stopped answering my messages too. Ruts are a Molotov cocktail of hormones. They’re intense even if you’re experienced and he isn’t. I just don’t want him to get hurt and not do anything about it because he doesn’t want to bother anyone.

You remember Felix in that corridor, arms hanging limp at his sides, looking at you with so much hurt and sorrow. Despite that, he didn’t pressure you to stay. He listened. He let you go because he thought you wanted that. He stood by himself in that corridor, crying over a box of his things that he thought had a home with you.

Tears blur your vision. You have to rub your eyes before answering Chan.

I’ll go to him, you write. I don’t want him hurt either.

I know you don’t, Chan says. You have a spare key to his place?

Yes.

Good, Chan says. He’s not answering his door so you’re gonna need it. Give the guy a smack for me, hey?

His joke makes you laugh, though it is strained. You give yourself a second to compose yourself then you are on your feet. You are in a loose house dress and tights, face bare and hair undone, but you do not waste another second. You know you can be yourself around Felix no matter what. You wish he understood the feeling was reciprocated.

This time, instead of running away, you run to him. This time, you will make him understand.

The two city blocks pass in a blur. You have never moved so fast in all your life, bumping into slow stragglers as you barrel down the street.

By the time you step off the elevator on his floor, you are warm and out of breath. You wipe a little perspiration off your forehead as you approach.

You were so frantic in your determination to arrive, there was no time for nerves to materialize. They strike all at once, twisting anxiously as you knock. You wait a minute but he doesn’t answer, just like Chan predicted.

You take a steadying breath and put the key in the lock. Hand over your heart, you push open the door and step into the apartment.

It does not look any different from the last time you were here. Even your slippers are still by the door. You disregard them now, stepping out of your shoes and venturing forward with a nervous little patter.

If you were a werewolf, maybe you would have scented a change in the air, but it smells and feels familiar. The apartment is very still, maybe a little warmer than usual, sunlight streaming through the windows.

You finally hear a sound. You leave the small foyer and make a very clumsy entrance into the room.

You can hardly blame yourself for stumbling. Felix is sitting on the couch in nothing but a pair of jeans. It looks like the same blue jeans from the other night. Yes, in fact, you are sure they are because you can see the faintest streak on his thigh. You were embarrassed to find you were so wet that it came through your panties and skirt. You wondered if it got on him.

You certainly have an answer now.

Felix is touching himself. He is slouched back on the couch, his bare chest damp with sweat, his knees spread apart. His jeans are pulled open and it looks roughly torn, the zipper snapped off the fly. His hand is wrapped around his cock. One of your t-shirts is clutched tightly in the other hand. He is holding it against his face, covering his eyes, mouth, and nose. He is clearly chasing the scent, knuckles whitening with how tightly he grips it.

His abdomen clenches as he approaches a climax. You watch as he quickly wraps the t-shirt around his cock, fucking the material. His eyes are closed, head thrown back.

You snap to the realization that he has no idea you’re here, so overwhelmed with your scent from the shirt.

You quickly cover your eyes with both hands and yelp his name.

His reply is a startled yelp as well. You peek at him through your fingers, watching as he frantically stuffs the t-shirt between the couch cushions. He tries to stand at the same time, fighting to close his pants over an uncooperative erection that does not seem to be going down.

“Fuck, sorry, I – hold on, fuck – I can explain—” he stammers.

“Um, me too,” you say.

He can’t get his pants closed but he gets himself tucked back inside. He keeps a grip on the fly with one hand, the other running through his long hair.

Then he is standing there, flushed and out of breath. You slowly lower your fingers from your face.

There is a moment of silence, both of you startled. After a bit of staring, he cracks a nervous smile. You tentatively return it.

His brow smooths out, his dimple poking into his cheek. He chuckles first, then you laugh, then you are laughing together. It feels good, letting out all the ridiculous tension.

“Why, uhh, why are you here?” he finally asks.

“Um, Chan texted,” you say.

“Oh, for the love of—” He cuts off his own tirade, shaking his head and exhaling heavily.

You twist your hands together, fingers budging in a nervous fidget.

“Um, he told me… he told me…” You forget your precise words because Felix meets your eyes, holding your gaze in his. You lose yourself in the depth of his dark eyes. You think your heart is beating loud enough to hear.

You look away, overwhelmed by the intensity of his stare. Your eyes stray to the couch, to your t-shirt poking out between the cushions. You are startled by a jolt between your legs, like a lightning bolt of arousal, the previous scene suddenly resonating with clarity.

“I—” You almost choke on your words, so much nervousness, so much fear, so much need in your voice. You meet his searching eyes, stepping forward as if compelled by them. “I thought my scent disgusted you.”

He blinks back at you, your words taking a moment to settle. Then he furrows his brow and tilts his head. A bit of hair falls forward and he tucks it back.

“Uhhhh, what?” he asks. “Dis—disgusted me? You thought—” He looks back at the couch too. He is very flushed, his rut no doubt keeping him suspended on a perpetual edge, and his ears darken with a richer tinge of red. “Um. No.” He laughs at the ridiculousness, looking at you with wide, blinking eyes. “I, uh, I definitely don’t – I think you – I mean—”

“Um, yes,” you say, clasping your hands together again. You rock a little on the balls of your feet. “Yes. I can see that, um, I think you’re not disgusted.”

“No,” it comes out on a breath. His eyes drop from your face down your body. You look so simple, but he looks at you like no one has ever been more beautiful. “No, I’m not disgusted. Why did you think that?”

“You, um, you make faces sometimes,” you say. It sounds so petty and silly to say out loud, but it’s time to get it all out there. “And you’ve been so distant, Felix. I thought that maybe, now that you’re a werewolf, you didn’t want anything more to do with me.”

His face scrunches up with bewilderment.

“Nothing – nothing to do with you?” he asks, voice breaking where it pitches up. It would usually make you laugh, but now is not the time as you stare back, all your insecurities and vulnerabilities on display. He does not laugh at them either, taking a small step towards you with a tender look on his face. “I could never feel that way,” he says. “You’re my whole world. I – I’ve told you that. You’re my – you’re my person.”

“Chan said you felt like a monster,” you say softly. “I wish you would have told me how you felt. I could have told you that you aren’t a monster, not at all. You’re my person too, you know.”

He exhales, shoulders deflating. He rubs the bridge of his nose, thinking of something to say. Eventually he shakes his head and drops his hand.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” he says. “You’ve been through so much. I couldn’t – I couldn’t ask you to take care of me too.”

“Felix,” you say, throat cloying with emotion. You take a step closer as well. “Felix, you’re not a burden. I wanted so badly to take care of you. I – I love you.”

The word love resonates like thunder. It pierces the air, leaves a ringing aftermath.

“You – you love me,” Felix says, like the words are incomprehensible. “As a – as a friend – or?” He tries to look disinterested but completely fails, staring at you with all that intensity again.

You combat the instinct to make yourself small, to hide your vulnerabilities, to retreat into denial and just smile prettily. You hold his gaze. When you smile, it is honest and affectionate.

“I love you, Felix,” you say. “As more than a friend. As everything.”

“Oh,” he says. His hand goes back into his hair, untucking it from behind his ear just to tuck it back again. His eyes dart everywhere like he is replaying the scene and scanning it for answers. He blinks at you. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” you say, with a small laugh.

“But you – you never wanted to see me again,” he says, then lifts his brows, expression all at once understanding. “Because you thought I didn’t want you. Oh my god. I’m such an idiot.”

“I’m not the brightest either,” you tease.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, closing the distance yet again with another step. He forgets the state of his clothes and lets go of his pants, too wrapped up in his words to notice the startled drop of your eyes. Not much is exposed, just the shape of his hips and a stubborn bulge, but it still leaves you sweating.

“Look,” he says. “I – I can’t just say I love you.” Before your heart can sink, he continues frantically, “Because it’s not enough. I do, I do love you. The werewolf gene activated for you. The doctors asked if I had been in any dangerous situations that might have triggered it and I said no. They – they said it sometimes activates in peril, when you feel the need to protect yourself. That’s what happened to me. Except it wasn’t because I wanted to protect myself. I wanted to protect you.”

“Me?” you say in a small voice, like you can hardly believe it.

“Yes,” he says, smiling, both hands moving as he talks. “I felt so helpless, watching the way you were hurting. I wanted to protect you. I never wanted to see you suffering again. I tried to be calm around you but pushing it down just made the feeling more desperate. My wolf, it’s like my heart. It’s just an animal, you know? And it only understands loyalty and love. And the first time I changed, I didn’t think like a person, no, but I thought of you all the same. They could barely keep me contained in that hospital. I just wanted to run to you. I wanted to protect you. I wanted to keep you safe. Staying away from you… it’s been killing me.”

“Me too,” you say, so filled to brim with emotion you think you might burst. “Oh, Felix, me too.”

A laugh spills out of him, more of a release than humour. You take another step towards each other, this time close enough to clasp hands between you.

“I wish you would have told me,” you say. “But it’s my fault too. I know I’m still recovering in some ways. I’m quick to think little of myself. But I shouldn’t put you in the role of the mean voices in my head. I’m sorry too. So, so sorry.”

“How could you think I’d ever be disgusted with you?” he asks in a low voice.

When he cups your cheek, a shiver moves down your spine. You straighten, leaning into his touch, looking at him with wanting eyes. He swallows hard, staring back.

“It was silly,” you say. “I even thought you were seeing someone else. That werewolf lady in your pack. I thought maybe you wanted a werewolf mate and I wouldn’t be enough.”

“That’s crazy,” he says. “You’re my everything.”

“And you’re mine,” you say.

You touch his arm, just the lightest caress of your fingertips. His skin is so hot it makes you gasp. Your cool fingers must be a balm because his eyes close and a little sigh parts his lips.

“Uh,” he breathes, eyes still closed. “Sorry for what you, uh, saw, coming in— I promise I don’t usually – ruts are just—”

You step a little closer. You can feel his breath on your cheek when he breathes in and out.

His hands drop to his sides as you lean in and kiss his neck. It is just a chaste touch but it makes his eyes fly open. He looks at you and you swear his eyes have never been so dark.

“You want me,” he says. When you nod, he releases another deep breath, a massive exhale of relief. “Ruts are… intense,” he says.

“Mm,” is your gentle reply. Your eyes run down his bare skin, fingers itching to touch. You meet his gaze. “But it’s you, right?”

Some romances depict ruts as an out of control haze. Though Felix is certainly more intense, it is your best friend’s familiar eyes locked on yours. You realize it actually makes him the vulnerable one, all his desires so blatant, his needs on the surface, unable to hide them for a second. You understand why he held back, especially while you were in recovery. There is so much of him.

But that is what you love. You can never have enough.

“Yes,” he says.

His deep voice is so rough that it makes you whimper. His hand jumps at the sound, settles on the back of your neck like it did yesterday. Anticipation tingles from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes, every inch of your body aware of him, desperate for him.

“Yes,” he says again, staring at your mouth. “Yes, it’s me.”

Your breath catches when he squeezes your nape. In the back of your mind, you recall all those little courtship rituals of werewolves, the instincts that manifest between them and their mate. A gentle squeeze of the nape is a request for your submission, for you to put your trust in his strength and his affection.

You do, utterly. You rest your hands on his waist, your cool palms against his hot skin, making his eyes flash with hunger.

“What are you waiting for?” you ask, his mouth so close, kissing a tantalizing promise.

He smiles that real smile, eyes crinkling sweetly, sunshine radiating with all that heat.

“I told you, ruts can be intense,” he says. “I’m waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you.”

“You have it,” you say. Your eyes drop to his chest and you run your hand from his collarbone all the way down to his abdomen, watching the muscles tense under the caress of your fingers.

You smile at him, swiping at his hot skin with your fingertips as you step back. He lets you go, hands dropping to his sides. He moves when you do, like his whole body is tethered to yours, magnetized to your core. Each step you take, he follows with a fixated prowl.

“Do whatever you want with me,” you say, peeling down a strap of your dress. “I’m yours.”

His steps gain speed, his smile brightening. In a matter of seconds, he is chasing you into his bedroom, laughing behind your trail of giggles as you scamper ahead of him.

He catches you around the waist inside the bedroom, pulling your backside into his front. The straps of your dress are both lowered and you hold it to your chest with your hand, heart pounding from excitement and the little chase.

You make a sweet sound when his nose swipes your neck. You tip your head, offering more skin. It is a good thing his grip is so strong, because you tremble when he exhales, breath caressing your skin. He gathers your dress in his hands, plucking the fabric out of your grip. He pushes it down your body and it puddles on the floor.

“Felix,” you say on a sigh when he kisses the back of your neck while working his fingers under your bra. You help remove it, dropping it onto the floor. You rock back against him when he touches you. He uses both hands to cup your breasts and squeeze.

“Can’t believe you thought I was disgusted,” he says. “Like I didn’t spend my whole last rut in here thinking about you.”

“Y-you did?” you ask, with a little whimper, because his open jeans are not doing much to shield him and you can feel how hard he is against you.

“Yes,” he says, a hand coming up to circle your throat, gripping it possessively as he puts his teeth in your neck. It makes you jump in his arms, body shaking.

He holds you tight against him, the denim of his pants rough through the thin fabric of your tights.

“I’m sorry for all that,” you rasp. “I must have made it so hard for you.”

“Mm,” he says, grinning against your neck. “You made it very hard.”

“Pfft.” You slap a hand over your mouth when laughing. “That was a terrible joke.”

“Mm. True though.”

You squeak when he nudges you forward, so close to the bed that you stumble right onto it. He climbs up behind you, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your back.

“At first, I was just sad,” he says.

He leans back to grab something off his bedside table. You admire the length of his body as he does, the low-slung jeans, the sheen of sweat across his chest, and his subtle, slender musculature.

You meet his gaze when he comes back. He is kneeling over you, a cocky grin on his face. He gathers his hair and ties it with the band he just grabbed.

“Then I really thought about it,” he says. “Mm, yeah, thought about hunting you down.” He straddles your thigh, his hands planting on either side of your head. “I’d find you and I’d remind where you belong.” He leans down, kissing along your jaw. “With me. Under me. Moaning my name. Forgetting about everything else.”

“Did you—” You start but gasp, his mouth on your throat, biting, sucking, licking. You arch your back, leaning into his mouth as he works his way down your body. “Did you… like with my shirt… when I saw you before…”

“What? Did I get off to your scent?” he asks. “Yes.” His hand follows his mouth, fingers curling into the band of your tights. “I told myself I shouldn’t. The last few ruts I managed. It wasn’t fun, mostly too hot, but I got by. But – you weren’t coming back, were you? You left so many pretty things here that made me think of you…”

He abruptly kneels upright. He uses both hands to grab the waistband of your tights.

“Found one of your cardigans,” he says. “Soft, like you. Put it on my pillow and fucked my hand like I wanted to fuck you.”

He rips your tights open with little effort, tearing right down to the thigh.

“Put it on my face,” he says. “Tasted it. Like I wanted to taste you.”

You moan for him, threading your fingers through his hair as he gets between your legs and opens his mouth on your pussy. He licks right through the material of your panties, like he doesn’t care at all, tormenting you with the obstruction until it is soaked through. You say his name over and over, your thighs already shaking just from warming up.

“Mmm.” He pushes himself up again, his mouth wet, tongue sweeping over his lips. He grabs your panties by the waistband and tugs them down.

By now, his jeans have slid down his hips. He is so hard, beading at the tip, as wet for you as you are for him. You watch as he uses your panties to quickly jerk his cock, gathering the wetness at the tip, then tossing them over his shoulder.

He falls back on top of you, face between your legs, licking you with nothing in his way.

“Wanted to find you,” he says between teasing kitten licks, looking up at you, smirking with the flick of his tongue. “Wanted to make you come so hard – mm, fuck you so good…” He slips two fingers inside you. Even though it has been some time, they move with no hindrance, your pussy so wet that he sinks right in.

“Yeah,” he says, momentarily going cross-eyed with his face so close to your pussy, watching his fingers move in and out of you. He grins when you clench around him. “Show you we were meant to be,” he says. “Just like this.” He licks you again, fingers moving so quickly that it sounds as obscenely wet as it feels. “Wolf or not. Knew you were mine. Was gonna make sure you know too.”

“Ohh,” you say, tugging at the blankets beneath you. “Who are you and what have you done with my sunshine Felix?”

He laughs, a low chuckle, the vibrations moving in your pussy.

“Mm, I’m right here, sweetheart,” he says. “Right… here…”

Then his mouth is occupied, little licks replaced with broad strokes of his tongue, then a repeating pattern that has you swelling and gushing on his tongue. You come so hard that it makes you dizzy, head thrown back as you squirt all over his thrusting fingers.

“That’s it,” he says, kissing your wet thighs.

While you are recovering, he grabs you and moves you. He arranges you neatly in the middle of the bed, making sure you are comfortable. Then he lets down his hair and removes his jeans.

“Felix,” you say, though it is generous to describe your voice as anything but a needy whimper.

He runs his hands up and down your trembling thighs, coaxing you open with murmurs of sweet nothings. You let him in, stringing your arms around his neck as he fits his hips between your legs and leans over you. You feel the head of his cock against your pussy, still throbbing with aftershocks. You are clenching around nothing, needing him, so ready you could scream.

You don’t scream, but sigh, like you are relieved when he gets inside you, like this is what you have been missing all along.

He takes his time despite the fever of his rut. Maybe because of it. His senses are so heightened, the pleasure felt so strongly. He groans, eyes closed, putting his face in your neck and breathing deeply as he slowly rocks into you.

“What were you thinking,” he murmurs, lips moving on your throat, “Trying to run away from me?”

“I’m – I’m sorry,” you say, interrupted with a hiccupping little uh-uh when he rolls his hips and you feel him deeper, harder, faster.

“You thought I wanted someone else?” he asks. “Impossible.”

Your eyes are closed, head thrown back. He grabs your chin and pulls your face to him, says, “Look at me. Right now.”

You do, blinking your eyes open. His thumb rubs your bottom lip and you open your mouth. You don’t even need to think, instantly accepting the intrusion of the digit, sucking on it while holding his gaze.

It would have terrified you a year ago, with anyone else, losing yourself to instinct like that, opening yourself up so willingly. With Felix, it feels right, it feels good.

“It’s you and me,” he says. “You understand that?”

You nod, humming affirmatively around his thumb. It rubs over your tongue, opens your mouth a little more. You want to close your eyes with every rolling thrust into you, but he tugs your face back to him when you try.

“You’re my mate,” he says. “Just you. It’s always – always been you.” He groans on the second always, picking up some speed, making you whine against his fingers.

He is so hot, clearly in the grips of his rut fever, but you cling to him, accepting everything he has to offer.

“Gonna be mine,” he says. “That’s right, yeah?” You nod frantically. “Yeah. Gonna put a ring on your finger. You’re gonna be so good to me, aren’t you? Gonna let me take care of you. Gonna be my mate. Gonna have my children. You and me. Home. Oh, yes, sweetheart, that’s it—”

You clench so tightly at the mention of children. It catches you off guard, your body’s visceral and immediate response, faster than your brain compute can why. You have told Felix you want children one day, in the future, back when you were just friends and it was an abstract thought. Thinking of a home with him, having his children, making a whole life together, being bound so completely …

“Fuck,” you say, his thumb sliding out of your mouth. He cups your face to keep it locked on him, your lips brushing each other.

“Look at me,” he whispers.

You do, though you are so close that you barely see him. It feels like he is everywhere, everything, around you and inside you. You melt when he kisses you, stealing your breath as he claims you so completely. You kiss back, messy and haphazard, all heat and wetness, but it feels good.

“C-can’t get pregnant,” you say with a pout, a bit delirious from getting fucked, letting the words roll thoughtlessly off your tongue. “B-birth control.”

“I know,” he says. He moves a little, gets up so he can hold your hips and pull you onto his cock with every thrust. “I’m stronger,” he says, just as deliriously, watching where his cock moves inside you. “Yeah. Gonna fill you up so much, it’ll happen anyway. It can’t stop me.”

He holds your hips, keeps you in place. He thrusts into you deeply and says, “You’re mine,” and thrusts again, “You’re mine,” and thrusts again, “You’re mine,” and comes inside you.

It is not quite like all the werewolf pornography, with exaggerated knots on preposterously sized cocks, but werewolf physiology is still a little different than human. That difference is exacerbated on a rut. You feel it as he comes, the way he swells and gets harder, just enough that you feel your fullest as he releases. Pushing at you walls, stretching you around him, making you his without question.

He doesn’t really soften after, the rut sustaining him, but the swelling goes down. Even then, not entirely, as you feel a sharper burn when he pulls out of you. The flicker of pain is oddly tantalizing, a biting sensation on top of so many others. It ripples through you, makes you moan.

Your whole body is twitching, eyes closed as you come back to yourself.

You look up at Felix. His eyes are between your legs, his hand running up your thigh. You feel his thumb spread your pussy open, feel his release spilling out of you. That is the other different element; with a werewolf, there is a lot more of everything.

Though you know your birth control will function regardless, when you feel all that inside you… for a moment, you believe he might be strong enough to overpower it.

It makes you giddy, pleasure moving through your body. He smiles at you, all sunshine and sweetness. Then he takes control of your hips and puts himself back inside you. The refractory period on a rut is virtually nonexistent on the peak day, which is usually the second day, which is today.

“You okay?” he asks, rocking into you slowly even though he fits so easily now, your body made to take him.

You nod, sliding your hands over his shoulders. You scratch across his back then up in his hair, making him grunt and close his eyes. He leans down and kisses you, continuing to fuck you until you are making all those sweet sounds again.

“Good?” he asks, kissing your jaw, your neck.

“Good,” you say.

“Not too much?” he checks.

“Mm, no,” you say. You give him a teasing smile. “Not enough actually.”

“Oh, really?” He laughs, eyes big with playful incredulity. “Should I growl and bite more?” He makes a playful snarl like the werewolves in all the erotica.

It makes you laugh. You can’t remember the last time you laughed while having sex, but it feels so good, just as good as all the hot, desperate stuff.

“Hmm, maybe not,” he says, laughing too. “Maybe all the making-a-bitch stuff is a bit much, hm?”

It seems you will learn more about yourself than him over this rut, because that also makes you clench involuntarily. He blinks with surprise, mouth in a soft ‘o’ as he looks down at you. He laughs just a little at the look on your face, a low chuckle as his grin widens.

You cover your mouth, blinking innocently up at him.

“Oh shit,” he says. “I see.”

You pout when he pulls out of you, but there is little time to feel bereft because he flips you over onto your front. Your face lands in the pillows, then he yanks you down the bed.

Oh, it feels filthy suddenly, because the new angle opens you up and you can feel come dripping out of you. It catches his eye too, because he puts his fingers there and stuffs it back inside you.

With little effort, he gets you back under him, pushes down your shoulders and lifts up your hips. You feel him at your entrance again, pushing the tip past the rim.

“Is that it?” he asks, dropping his voice so low yet sounding so sweet. “You want me to make you my bitch, baby?”

He slams home, holding your hips up while pounding into you with relentless measure. You grab a pillow to hold, yelping and whining into it as he fucks you with wild abandon.

For a few seconds, you succumb to that single-minded animalistic pursuit, and you really do believe he can put a baby in you. You start babbling the desire – begging for it, asking him to fill you up.

“Please, please, please,” you say, gasping.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he says, draping himself over your back, not stopping his hips for a second. “I got you. I’ll give you a baby. So good for me. Made to take it from me, yeah, baby?”

You know you are going to come again, his angle and precision too much to withstand. Sure enough, you are coming all over his cock in a matter of seconds, squeezing him into another orgasm too.

He kneels behind you, throws his head back while coming. Then he grinds inside you like he is trying to get it as deep as possible.

“Oh, Felix,” you say, whimpering when he pulls out, still hard, the burn less this time because you are so filthy wet that he slides so easily. You can feel his release gush out of you, his fingers chasing it, pushing back into you.

He rubs at you until you are rocking your hips and coming on his fingers. It is so much stimulation that your eyes water and your nose starts to sniffle.

He rolls you over and cups your face. You open your mouth instinctively, tilting your head to expose your neck. He looks at you like he can’t really believe you are exist and that you are here.

“Wow,” he says. The hand on your face slides so he can put his thumb back in your mouth, letting you suck on it like it is giving you life. He clenches his jaw, makes a rough sound, presses down on your needy tongue. “Next time,” he says, while starting to put his cock back into you, “Your mouth. And my mouth. You’re gonna sit on my face for hours. I’m gonna take care of you. Oh—”

He is halfway inside you when you reach up, putting your hands on his chest. He stops immediately, pulling out, taking back his hands, looking at you with a concerned tilt to his head.

“Will you lay on your back?” you ask, voice hoarse.

He blinks, like for a second he doesn’t understand words, but then he obeys. His hair is in absolute disarray, a veritable lion’s mane. He rakes it back, smooths it down as best he can. He never takes his eyes off you, watching as you sit up, as you climb on top of him, as you put him back inside you and set a slower pace.

“My turn,” you say, smiling. “I want to take care of you too.”

He smiles, putting his hands on your hips but not guiding them. He lets you take the lead, moving on top of him, finding all the ways to make him moan and close his eyes and twitch inside you.

You make him come twice that way. After the second time, he finally starts to soften enough that you can take a break.

You lay down beside him, squeaking with surprise when you press down on your belly and a little more come gushes out of you. You look at each other, his face the picture of total innocence despite his hand in it. You swat his chest, rolling onto your side and putting your head on his chest.

He laughs, putting his arm around you, stroking your back.

“You know I do mean it,” he says, looking down at you. “I want everything with you.”

“Me too,” you say. You kiss his chest, then his neck, under his jaw, making him sigh contently. “I love you, Felix. Everything about you, wolf and all.”

“I love you too,” he says, pressing you close, kissing your forehead.

There is a long moment of content silence. He strokes your back, up and down, lulling you to a dozy state. It is too early to sleep and, besides, the sheets need changing before that – even though you suspect they will just be dirtied again.

You are contemplating these sweet mundane nothings when he says, “You’re in the pack, you know. As my mate. That makes you one of us.”

“Does it?” you ask.

“Yes,” he says. “I’m telling you this, because you’re a packmate and Chan is leader, but you’re my mate, so you have to take my side and tell him to fuck off when he tries to say I told you so.”

You laugh, shaking your head and playfully rolling your eyes.

“Sounds good,” you say. “Hmm, I might go have a shower before… the next… round…”

You do not have to look down to know that he is hard already, his blinking gaze revealing all. You giggle together and kiss again.

“All right, fair enough,” you say, eyes closed, exposing your neck obediently when he cups your nape. You press against him, moaning softly when he scents your neck then sucks a bruising kiss there. “It can wait,” you say, smiling. “We’ve been waiting for this long enough.”

“Mm,” he says, already slipping back into his feverish need. He grabs you and pulls you back on top of him.

There is not much talking for a while, but there is some laughter and plenty of smiles, and for the first time in a long time, you are looking forward to everything that follows after.

#lee felix x reader #felix x reader #lee felix smut #felix smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x you #skz x you #yongbbokkie #valentinesdaystories

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mayanneaa · 27 days ago

Text

nights like this - ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ.

PAIRING : rafe cameron x kook!reader

SUMMARY : everything between you and rafe changes after one stupid birthday party.

WARNING(S) : drinking, smoking, swearing, kinda allusions to drunk driving please do NOT DO THAT EVER, not proofread

A/N : woahh rafe angst coming from me??? also ignore the shitty message thing I'm doing this on my laptop lmaoo (divider by @roseraris)

WC : 2.4k

part 2, “sparkling” out now! find it here

masterlist.

"Babe, c'mon!"

Sarah's practically jumping with excitement as she's leading you to the front door of Tanney Hill. People are spilling out of the house, most already holding a drink or two.

You hear them congratulating you as you pass by, sending them smiles from eye to eye.

Sarah insisted that you should have a big party for this year's birthday. And, be honest, how could you resist?

You two enter the house and crash into Kelce and Rafe almost immediately.

"Well, the birthday girl is here!" Kelce's first to hug you, and you giggle over his shoulder.

When you look up, your eyes rest on Rafe. He looks as good as always— this time, a grin plastered to his lips as he glances at you.

Kelce pulls away, and it's Rafe's turn. He wraps his arms around your waist, leaning down to rest his chin on your shoulder, and the strong smell of sandalwood surrounds your face.

"You look beautiful," he whispers in a low, raspy voice beside your ear.

You’re almost sure he saw the glimpse of your cheeks reddening. And tonight, you don’t even care. It was your night. No stupid feelings can ruin it. Or, at least that’s what you thought.

It’s been like this forever— you’ve known Rafe since you were little, and he’s always been charming.

At first, it was simple things, just like kids would do.

He was letting you hang around, even though you were a bit younger than him. He’d always hold your hand while you were getting on the boat. After some years, you didn’t need any help, but these little moments were yours to keep.

You didn’t notice the moment Rafe started to get more handsome in your eyes, more like… boyfriend material.

It just happened. And after some time, you couldn’t deny it. Something was pulling you to Rafe Cameron.

“Well, see you around, ‘kay? Happy birthday.” Rafe speaks again, and you step back. His touch lingers on your hips before he nods to his sister and follows Kelce to a different part of the house.

You turn around to Sarah, only to see a suggestive look on her face. Her brows are raised, and she's biting her lower lip, trying not to laugh at you.

"Save it," You roll your eyes as you pull her with you to the drinks. "Tonight, I'm not worrying about any stupid guys!"

Your friend answers you with a chant, jumping around and almost spilling her first drink of the night. Someone's already making their way to wish you a happy birthday, and the speakers play one of your favorite songs.

It's going to be good.

After the third cup of Sarah's famous mix, you decide to take a breather. As you walk around Tanney Hill, your vision can't help but spin with each step. The upstairs is much quieter, and the loud thumps of music are not sending your head into space anymore. You don't really look where you're going, so when your feet lead you to the roof, you can't help but let a soft smile on your lips.

It's been your getaway place since ninth grade. Every time something bad happened, and your eyes were filled with tears not meant for the others to see, you climbed out the balcony, fresh air accompanying you.

You settle on the cold, hard tiles, making sure your dress doesn’t get too dirty. You can see everything from up here. The moon’s reflection on the ocean is blurred at the edges, moving with the waves.

You close your eyes, focusing on breathing in the salty air.

“Look who’s there.” The voice suddenly breaking through the silence makes you jump.

Rafe’s face appears, his sharp features bathing in the light from the room below. He smiles as he climbs up, taking the spot next to you.

“Hi.” You try your best for your voice not to sound weird.

He shuffles in his place, his arm absentmindedly brushing yours.

"So, got overwhelmed?" Rafe starts. You nod in response, letting out a sigh.

"You know me so well, huh?"

He rests on his elbows, and he has a proud look on his face when he looks at you. "Duhh. I might know you better than Sarah."

You snort. Maybe he's right. But there are little things only you know.

For example, the way your heart races at the moment. If you sat two inches closer, he’d surely hear every single beat.

The two of you sat like this, in the soothing silence. Only the whistles of wind and crashing waves below interrupted it.

"It's so nice..." You finally speak up, tilting your head.

"Mhm." Rafe mumbles, a cigarette between his lips. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his black pants, looking for a lighter. When he pulls it out, he raises his eyebrows at you. "Want one?"

You glance at him for a little. It's your birthday, after all. You nod, and Rafe lights up the cig. He takes a blow first, then passes it to you.

You inhale the smoke, a small cough escaping your lips.

"What do you wish for?" He says with a smirk. You give him a quick look and feel your cheeks warm up.

Fuck.

"I don't know..."

"Oh, you do know."

You roll your eyes. "And since when are you so curious about things like this?"

"Darling, when wasn't I curious about you?"

Rafe's got a point. He forced you into a corner, and there's no room for a slick escape.

"Alright," you start, looking at the dark horizon. "I'd like to kiss someone on a night like this."

He raises his eyebrow, moving his body closer to yours. "Are you kidding?"

"What? No!"

What were you supposed to do, tell him the truth? Say, 'Yeah, I wish you'd notice I've been head over heels for you since, like, forever?' No. You had to make something up.

Fortunately for you, it wasn't a total lie. You've always adored this time of the day— soft, quiet nights. The sky filled with stars, the breeze flowing around you.

"Seriously! It's... romantic."

"Oh, yeah?"

He’s leaning in, and when your eyes dart down, his fingers trace the back of your hand.

Before you can do anything, Rafe presses his lips to yours, the taste of vodka lingering in between.

It's soft, almost as if Rafe's unsure. Nothing like the kisses you've been imagining before falling asleep. Those were burning, filled with passion, and you'd usually already be soaked by the rain.

You put your hand on his chest, a move laced with uncertainty, and finally deepen the kiss. Under your fingertips, you can feel each beat of his heart. It's as intense as the thumps of music below your body. This feels so... unreal.

His hands make their way to your neck, holding it from behind and pulling you even closer.

You sober up in seconds. You part from him, your breath coming out heavy.

His lips are red, a shade slowly matching his cheeks.

“Enjoy your wish,” Rafe whispers beside your lips, and you feel your heart fall.

What did it mean to him? You've known him forever, and you've seen how he used to act with girls— making out with them the whole night, not even bothering to text them back after the party's over. He's so nonchalant and so smug that you start having second thoughts.

“Rafe. I swear, if you’re trying to mess with me—”

“Hey,” he grabs your hand and puts it on his chest, near the heart. Now, his heart rate is even stronger than the music thumps. “Do you really think I’m joking?”

You open your mouth, ready to answer when you hear someone calling you. Your eyes widen as you glance over at Rafe again. The smirk on his face seems to be stuck there.

“I- I have to go,” you mumble, trying to get down without giving him a chance to notice how shaky your legs are. And your hands. Actually, how shaky you are in overall.

“I’ll drive you home later. Okay, baby?”

If you were alone, the whole Outer Banks would hear the scream that’s begging to get out of your throat.

“Didn’t you drink?” You try to sound as casual as you can, but the corners of your mouth manage to rise.

He shakes his head, “Not much. You better go down there. They’re waiting for the birthday girl.”

You look at him for the last time before disappearing into the house, cheeks warmer than ever in your life.

Hours later, the crowd in the house starts to thin. You didn't really drink much after coming back— the kiss was intoxicating enough.

Sarah walks around, throwing all the empty cups she'd found in the trash bag.

"Sarah, you don't have to do it now!" You whine, leaning on the couch. "I'll come back in the morning and help you, promise."

She shakes her head, "It's nothing. I'm honestly surprised it's not that much of a mess. You should go and find Rafe, he'll drive you home."

As she mentions her brother, she wiggles her brows with a playful smirk, making you groan. "Shut up! I shouldn't have told you about that after you drank those weird mixes—"

She giggles, picking up the bottles laying next to the table.

You roll your eyes and leave the room, looking around for the well-known face. He's nowhere to be seen here, so you climb up the stairs, moving around the very few people left, sending them soft and quick smiles as you pass them.

"Rafe?" You call out through the empty halls, heading to his room. You wouldn't be shocked if he just went to his room, away from all the people.

His door is left slightly open. You frown as you lean in, peeking through the thin gap. Even though it's not really polite.

A second later you wish you'd never gone there. Of course, Rafe's inside. But not alone.

In fact, there's some touron girl all over him. Her arms are around his neck, and you are almost sure they're shoving their tongues down each other's throats. You don't see much in the dim, warm light, but what you've already seen is enough.

You stand there for a split second, holding your breath, before you turn around on your heels and sprint down, as quietly as you can.

There's a bitter feeling in your throat, the way it tightens. You try to breathe, the air coming out in heavy, shaky parts.

You should've known this. It was obvious from the beginning— how could Rafe, someone who's been around since you were a little kid, see you as something more? As a girl he could be with?

Maybe he did find you attractive, but nothing more. You were just one of many girls.

"Woah!"

You crash with someone, almost falling, but you somehow keep your balance. Topper's standing in front of you, startled. There's a glimpse of worry in his eyes, the brows beneath them pulled together.

"Topper!" you breathe out, "Can you drive me home? Pretty please."

"Uhm, I mean, sure. But wasn't Rafe supposed to drop you off? I've heard him saying--"

You swallow hard. "He's busy."

"Oh, alright. Go to my car, I'll grab my keys and be there in a second, okay?"

"Mhm." You nod and look around to find Sarah asleep on one of the couches. A giggle slips from your lips, a reaction that makes you raise your brows.

Guess you'll have to tell her everything tomorrow.

You head out of the house, cold, breezy air hitting you in the face. Topper's car is already waiting for you on the driveway. You quickly take the passenger seat.

While waiting for the boy, you have to blink away the tears. You feel so... stupid.

Topper comes a few minutes after you. You can feel his stare as you two make your way to your house, but he doesn't say a thing until you are in front of your place.

"Will you be okay?" he asks. You jump on the hard ground and turn around to him, tilting your head.

"Yeah. Thanks," you say softly with a smile. "I'll be fine."

You don't waste a second— right after he drives off you go to your house, trying not to wake anyone up.

The first time you let the tears fall this night is in the shower. The salty streams get mixed with water, dripping onto your feet.

You try to feel anything.

You wait for the anger when you put on your pajamas.

You stand in the fogged-up mirror, searching for the slightest sadness on your face.

Even while laying in bed, minutes before falling asleep, you give yourself a moment to crash out. To be mad, be jealous over a boy you've loved for what feels like forever. But none of that comes.

Instead, you just feel plainly stupid. Maybe it's because of the alcohol in your system, or maybe you're ashamed you seriously thought he could like you.

You don't get any answer.

"Fuuckk."

You're never letting Sarah near the alcohol cupboard ever again. God only knows what she put in those mixes, but your head feels like exploding.

You look around the room bathed in the soft, early morning sunlight. You're not sure how much sleep you got, but it surely wasn't enough for you to forget what happened at the party.

Your phone is on the nightstand, next to a glass of water and some aspirin, probably left here by your mom.

You rub your eyes as you reach for it, your vision is still a little blurry.

There are some messages from Sarah, and you can’t help but smile when you see it all in the caps.

Of course, you can’t be happy for even a minute because, under her messages, there’s a notification from Rafe. Two missed calls and a few texts.

You squeeze the bridge of your nose as you read what he’d typed out.

Typical Rafe. Always acting clueless. So frustrating.

You bite your lip, thinking of how to reply. You didn't have the energy to talk about what you saw. Just like you were numb before, now all the emotions come with full force. If you tried to explain it, you'd probably end up screaming, crying or just completely breaking down.

The best thing to do is not to make a deal out of it— at least that's what you come up with, your head dizzy from being hungover, as your trembling fingers hit each letter.

It's for the better. Because this way, you can't get hurt even more. The thought of you spilling your heart in front of him, and Rafe's response is what he'd always use with the other girls...

You can't let it happen.

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subcultureblues · 3 months ago

Text

Don’t You Want Me (Baby?) Pt 1

———

Steve and Eddie are either hooking up or dating - and are about as bad at keeping a secret as they are dealing with their feelings. (Dustin POV)

1 / 2 / 3 / 4

———

“For the record, I still think this is dumb.” Lucas said over the wind.

“Yeah, well, you’re dumb.” Mike said, sharp witted as ever.

“Got you there.” Will grinned, sidling up beside him on his bike. Mike shot him a look, vaguely betrayed. Will shrugged innocently and kept peddling.

“Alright, alright, let the court record reflect you’re both morons.” Dustin sighed, peddling between the bickerer’s bikes and cutting ahead.

All four boys skirted to a stop outside the trailer park. Dustin wiped at his forehead under his cap, the humidity creeping back up on them as soon as the air stopped it’s rushing by.

“Dude, if Eddie wasn’t picking up the phone, well, there’s probably a reason for that.” Lucas said, in that tone of his. The demeaning one.

Dustin just shook his head. Name one good reason to ignore your party? One good reason. Dustin certainly couldn’t!

He started walking his bike up through the dusty lot, leaving the rest with little choice but to march ever onward.

“Maybe he’s still sleeping.” Will said, lingering a bit behind the pack.

“At 1 in the afternoon?” Lucas rolled his eyes.

“What? He does, like,” Mike’s voice dropped to a paranoid whisper. “weed, right? Jonathan’s always sleeping in?” Mike looked behind them at Will, who shrugged.

“Eddie,” Dustin said his name rather uncharitably but he’s at his limit here, really, he is “has been dodgy for weeks now. Doesn’t answer the phone, he’s never free on the weekend, never hangs out after Hellfire anymore - I’m telling you guys, somethings up.”

“Or maybe - he’s finally graduated after the third try and he’s tired of hanging around high schoolers all the time.” Lucas rolled his eyes.

Dustin shook his head at Lucas, because that can’t be it. Eddie loves them. Well, he loves Dustin and likes the rest of Hellfire’s fresh meat well enough. They bonded, alright? - after everything they went through in the Upside Down. Hell, they’re practically brothers. And it’s not just Dustin who thinks that, Eddie had said it first. Well, he called him ‘the little brother I never wanted’ but had said so sarcastically. Obviously, he’d meant the opposite.

Hard to feel wanted right now though, considering as of circa maybe a month ago, Eddie’s been MIA. He still shows up to Hellfire, obviously. But that was about it.

After stopping the clock on the apocalypse and banding together to clear Eddie’s good name, it kind of become a thing - Eddie taking them out to get slushies after a game. Calling up Eddie to tell him, not ask, but tell him they were all going to the arcade. He’d even gone to Eddie’s trailer a few times so he could help Dustin homebrew a completely new subclass!

Steve had even started tagging along too, usually. Him and Eddie even getting started to get less awkward around each other after a while. Not best friends or anything, Not like Dustin was hoping. But friendly. It had been totally awesome! And totally annoying that he had mysteriously gone to ground.

It’s possible Dustin’s being, well he doesn’t want to say needy...

It’s just, Steve started picking up extra shifts at work and spending a whole lot of time with Robin. Not that Dustin didn’t support their relationship. Steve’s been single so long, it hadn’t started verging on pathetic exactly, but it was a near thing.

It’s just hard for a guy not to feel neglected.

The four boys had almost reached the trailer when they heard it. At first Dustin dismissed it, surely the trailer next doors’ doing. But no, that music definitely coming from Eddie’s.

That in and of itself, wouldn’t be unusual. Eddie is likely the loudest human being on the planet. No, the weird part is it’s not thrashy, garbage can lid, Eddie-music but goddamn…

“Is that - “ Mike said, trailing off from sheer befuddlement.

“Culture Club.” Lucas could barely hide the cackle in his voice.

“What in the -“ Dustin muttered, throwing his bike in the grass and wandering up to the door like it was a gate to another dimension. For all he knows, it might just be.

“Eddie?” He knocked on the door. Nothing. He tried again. Obviously, someone’s home.

Dustin’s only met the man briefly but he didn’t take Munson Sr for being the bubblegum pop type.

Besides, Mr. Munson certainly wouldn’t be playing anything this loud unless those late nights at the plant had him going deaf. Dustin peeked through the window into the living room. More nothing.

“Oh man.” Lucas shoved him to press his face against the glass too. There was a slow smile creeping across his face, like he was suddenly overjoyed they had come to the trailer park after all. Lucas wasn’t gonna let their DM live this one down, not any time soon. “I thought he was supposed to be cool.”

“He is cool.” Mike said.

Dustin just sighed, threw his hands up, and started rounding the corner of the RV. Eddie’s van was here, ergo Eddie. Dustin was sure he’d be lurking around here somewhere. The rest of the boys followed, their previous hesitation now nowhere to be seen.

“Come on.” He gestured towards the window. They all leaned in and Dustin was already furiously rapping on the window. “Ed - “

Dustin’s eyes went wide. And maybe his face a bit pink.

Eddie was here alright.

He was laying in bed. Very much not alone. There were two of them, lying in bed together. They were under the covers but Eddie was sprawled out on top of someone, a thick curtain of hair hanging over both faces. Clearly, ew, kissing, based on, and Dustin might be scarred for life here, a hand gripping Eddie’s hair at the base of his neck. He could just barely hear their sadistic DM… giggling… over the music.

As for the tunes, the obvious culprit was in the corner of the room. Eddie’s little cassette stereo.

“Eddie?” Dustin blanched before he could stop himself. And it was of course, in that exact moment Culture Club decided to betray them and Karma Chameleon ended.

Will went to shush him, grabbing his shoulder to drag him away but oh shit, Eddie definitely heard that. The guy squawked and jolted up in bed, swooping the covers up to hide them both in their immodesty. Eddie’s eyes peaked over his elbow like a vampire leering over his cloak. He gaped at the window, clearly rather horrified.

The boys all threw themselves out of the frame, Dustin pressing up against the back of the trailer.

“What the fuck - “ he heard Eddie say. “What the fuck.” He sounded almost angry but closer to panicked. There was a vague whispering match, but whispering was never really Eddie’s strong suit, so they heard him just fine.

“Relax.” Eddie said, though he did not himself sound relaxed. “No, it’s fine. We’re cool. You need to - I need you cool right now.”

They heard something like a grown man crashing off the bed and gracelessly hit the floor.

“I know, I know, I know. I know! Christ, I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t - I’ll deal with it. Just - “

The boys were already turning tail and scurrying back to their bikes. Gone entirely red in the face.

“I told you this was a bad idea.” Mike said, the hypocrite bastard.

“No you did not!” Dustin huffed.

The front door swung open with a bang and Eddie came spilling out towards them as he, oh gross, scrambled to get into his jeans. He was still shirtless and sweaty, hair fluffed up like an angry cat. Looking rather frantic.

“It’s not what it looks like!” He actually looked properly pissed, hands shaking with it as he did up his fly.

“We didn’t see anything.” Lucas put his hands up, but the guilty way he refused to meet Eddie’s eyes kind of gave up the game.

“Nothing!” Will squeaked, beet red and squeezing his eyes closed tight. Just in case they hadn’t made themselves look incriminating enough.

“God, of all the shit fucking timing -“ Eddie’s fist clenched up in front of him and he let out a frustrated noise, eyes darting around the trailer park. “Look I can explain. If you just, ergh, give me a minute to think of something.”

“No need! We didn’t see anything, promise.” Mike assured him again, his voice nearly steady. Good for him.

“Right so. I guess, did I mention I’ve take up recently taken up semi pro Grecian wrestling - “

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Dustin couldn’t help interrupting him. Lucas smacked him. He gave Lucas a face, which was returned, so Dustin did it again even harder. But fuck Lucas cause it may have been the right thing to say. Eddie stopped fluttering, looked right at him. Squinted, scanning his face.

“You know you can just tell us. If you did. You could have just told us in the first place.” Dustin didn’t get why Eddie wouldn’t. Did Eddie think this kind of thing was too ‘grown up’ for them. They were high school freshman for Christ sake! The only one of their little crew who didn’t have a girlfriend was Will. And I guess Steve.

Allegedly.

Of course, Dustin didn’t believe that for a second.

“I - what?” Eddie perked up.

“If you had a girlfriend. Do you? Is that - “

Eddie huffed out a hysterical laugh. It was weird. But then, Eddie wasn’t exactly the poster child for Normal. Dustin crossed his arms.

“Sure. Yeah.” He took a big breath as he looked behind him back into the trailer. “I have a... my girlfriend.”

“Sorry. For coming over.” Will said, timid like a mouse.

“It was Dustin’s idea.” He took Mike for many things but never a rat. Dustin sputtered indignantly, throwing up his hands.

“And we didn’t even see anything, really! So if you’re worried about your girlfriend’s modesty, like - we didn’t see anything, we swear! Right guys?.” Lucas insisted. Mike and Will bobbleheaded in agreement.

“What the hell are you squirts doing here, anyways?” Eddie said, scrubbing roughly at his forehead.

“I needed to get my binder.” Dustin said flatly. And maybe to remind Eddie that hey, he’s still here too. Like, right here.

“Your fucking - “ Eddie said in disbelief, and then he laughed. “Your binder.”

“You weren’t answering the phone.”

“Yeah well I was busy.” Eddie said, eyes wide and awfully antagonistic.

“Busy getting busy.”

Eddie turned his wild eyes on Lucas

“Thin ice, Sinclair. Thin fucking ice.”

That just made him chuckle again. At least he half tried to hide it behind his hand. But Lucas always was the least cowed by Eddie.

“Is this why you haven’t been hanging around anymore, like all month.”

“Jesus. Henderson, I’m sorry, ok? Hard as it is to believe, I do have a fucking life outside the game.” Yeah, Dustin thought, it was pretty hard to believe. “Look, just give me a second.”

“I’ll be quick - “ Dustin made a move to come inside.

“No.” Eddie firmly hip checked him out of the way.

Eddie slipped back into the trailer. Through the open door Dustin could just barely make out the words.

“False alarm. No - actually. I’m being serious. They think - “

They think what? Think they have a right to be here at Eddie’s trailer. Taking up space in Eddie’s life. Well they do. The party almost died saving the world side by side with Eddie, they had more right to be here than that - Dustin just grumbled. He wouldn’t call her a harlot. But only because Susie’s voice was already in the back of his head, admonishing the thought.

Eddie came back and pushed the binder hard into Dustin’s chest. He was stumbled back a step. “Now scram.” He said, not leaving room for Dustin to get a word in edgewise.

“Look, I’m sorry I haven’t been around but I… See you at Hellfire, ok?” Eddie slammed the door in their faces.

“How great could this even chick be?” Dustin frowned. Great enough to edge the party out of Eddie’s life it seems like.

The other boys just shrugged. They all picked up their bikes.

“I mean, why can’t he just like, bring her along when we hang out or something.”

“I told you, maybe he just wants to hang out with someone his own age for once.” Lucas said.

Maybe Eddie’s too cool to bring his new girlfriend around his dorky freshmen friends. Is he embarrassed to introduce them to her or something.

“Come on.” Will said. “We should get back to Mike’s.”

“Yeah. Yeah whatever.” Dustin said.

———

“Since it’s Friday, our parents said me and Mike and Lucas could go to the arcade for an hour before it gets dark.” Dustin said to Eddie as they walked through the empty school hallway after Hellfire.

“No can do, compadre. Fight the good fight against those Space Invaders in my steed, yeah?” Eddie grinned down at him over the few boxes of mini in his hands.

Dustin huffed.

“What? Too busy hanging out with your girlfriend? Dustin said petulantly. “Just bring her along if your - “

The three most senior PC’s in Hellfire skid to a stop in front of them. Dustin and Eddie nearly walked straight into the wall of them. It was almost comical the way all their heads swiveled around to oogle at him. Jeff only just managed to choke back a chortle.

Dustin was honestly offended on Eddie’s behalf. Sure, dude was a drug dealing, super duper senior nerd/freak/metalhead combo who had been semi-recently accused of ritualistic dismemberment - but certainly someone was into that.

“My -? Oh yeah my, my - that.” Eddie winced, avoiding many, many eyes.

“Oh, and you have a girlfriend now do you?” Gareth huffed a laugh, in clear disbelief. Eddie glared daggers at him.

Dustin really didn’t see why it was that hard to believe. Eddie was like, really cool. It was an indisputable fact. If all of them could see it, why couldn’t some weird, off the wall alt girl see it too.

“I don’t want to hear a fucking word from you. Any one of you.” Pointing rapidly at all three of them, like he was warding off the words waiting right at the tip of their tongues.

“So who’s the lucky lady, Munson?” Jared said, like he had ‘held action, Vicious Mockery’ and simply couldn’t help himself. He was fighting a positively delighted smile. Eddie flushed.

“The DM giveth and the DM taketh away, and you would be very wise to remember that, Ser Elias.” Eddie said loudly, still jabbing his finger about like it made him more authoritative.

“Sorry man, just joking around.” Jeff grinned good naturedly.

“Yeah, I mean, good for you dude.” Gareth said, with a genuine smile. He tapped Eddie on the chest who childishly batted Gareth’s hand away.

“No, don’t do that. I - seriously guys, we’re not - it’s not like that. I’m not ‘dating’ anyone.” Eddie deflated, looking uncomfortable. The unflappable Eddie, looking all too flappable after all. He tucked a piece of hair behind his ear and huffed. “Just someone I’ve been screwing around with alright.”

Eddie walked past them. Dustin almost felt bad for bringing it up. Almost.

He turned to Gareth.

“So you guys don’t have any idea who it is?”

The guys looked around at each other, all of them shrugging.

“Who knows.” Jared shrugged again, this one still no more helpful than the last.

“Unless,” Gareth straight up giggles, “it’s that suburban mom Eddie’s been swooning over since sophomore year.”

“Yeah right.” Jared chuckled, shoving Gareth forward. They all continued walking.

“That… doesn’t seem like his type.” Dustin said, suddenly confused and perturbed and feeling like he doesn’t know Eddie Munson at all.

“You’d be surprised.” Jared grinned and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

They exited the school just in time to see Steve getting out of the car. Usually after Hellfire he didn’t bother. He just wanted to get the kids rounded up and out of the parking lot as quickly as he could ever really manage. Not today though. Eddie walked to Steve’s Beemer, parked in the stall next to his van.

“Munson.” He said with a small smile. He grabbed one of a few boxes of minis out of Eddie’s arms.

“Uh, Harrington.” Eddie gave a hesitant smile, before bowing his head with predictable theatrically.

“Hi, Steve.” Dustin said from behind. Steve gave him a fond nod before looking back up to the DM.

“So, uh, how was the session?” He said kind of awkwardly.

“Bordering on child abuse.” Eddie beamed.

“I got knocked out, twice.” Lucas windged, holding up two fingers as he walked by.

“Whatever keeps you humble.” Steve shrugged. He turned back to Eddie. “So. Uh. Any plans for this weekend?”

Eddie blinked, then he raised his eyebrows with a haughty grin. “Dunno, had a few things in mind.” He shrugged.

“Cool. That’s cool. I did too. But uh, then my parents came home from their trip early.” Steve scratched the back of his neck. “So, you know, guess there go my plans for the weekend.”

“Huh.” Eddie frowned. “Bummer.”

“Shotgun!” Dustin decided, throwing open the passenger side door.

Mike, Lucas, and Will who also couldn’t care less about their inane small talk, were already piling into Steve’s car. Steve was lingering though, helping Eddie load his stuff into the van. Dustin’s glad they’re making an effort to be friendly acquaintances, especially since he’s pretty sure it’s mostly for his own sake. But come on, it was like, 3 small boxes. They had space invasions to thwart.

And of course, Lucas was still bitching at Dustin about his failure to come through with a healing spell.

“I’m a bard, what did you want me to do?” Dustin rolled his eyes.

“You have healing word!” Lucas said, to which Dustin roll his eyes. Again.

“Which does like, 2D-nothing!” He looked out the window, wishing Steve would hurry the hell up already. Him and Eddie were still talking? What the hell did those two even have to talk about? Eddie was giving Steve an optimistic grin, but Steve was just shaking his head.

“Cure wounds than!” Lucas groused.

“Well, then you should have thought about that before you went down thirty-five feet away.”

“You could have dashed.” Lucas crossed his arms.

“Ugh. That would have defeated the whole - ugh!” Dustin rolled the window down impatiently. “Steve is it cool if I eat in your car?“ Dustin hollered. He wasn’t actually gonna, he just knew how to get the man’s attention.

“Absolutely not! You know the rules.”

“Don’t worry, it’s just a granola bar! Nature Valley.” Dustin shouted back.

“Don’t even think about it Henderson!” Steve said, already rounding the car. Eddie laughed brightly.

“Harrington?” He said.

“I - Yeah. Fine. Fine, alright.” Steve said to which Eddie smiled triumphantly. That better mean they were done with their little pow-wow.

Eddie climbed into his own vehicle. Steve opened the Beemer’s drivers side door but he didn’t get in yet. Instead he stood there running his hand through his hair muttering something to himself.

“See ya, nerds!” Eddie called out, lowering his own window. There was a chorus of goodbyes from the Beemer. “And Harrington -“ He started the van and a blast of guitar poured out. He smiled that Eddie smile. “You worry too much.” He said. And then he swept out of the parking lot with the sound of his obnoxious music on the wind.

“Yeah. Sure.” Steve muttered sarcastically. He got behind the wheel, Dustin’s threat of snacking seemingly forgotten.

“What was that about?”

Steve just waved him off and started the car.

Dustin eyed Steve skeptically. So what, were Steve and Eddie like, actually friends now or something?

Maybe he knows.

After a few minutes, Dustin finally broke and asked.

“Soooo, do you know who Eddie’s been seeing?”

“What?” Steve says, nearly swerving over the line.

“Jesus!” Lucas swore from the back.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Steve chuckled awkwardly, eyes now, thankfully, firmly fixed on the road.

“Of course he’s not gonna tell Steve.” Mike grumbled.

Dustin stroked an imaginary beard. The fog of mystery only grew thicker and thicker.

“His secret girlfriend.” Mike said, like a little know it all.

Steve just huffed a, sure.

“I bet she’s like, some badass metal chick.” Mike said reverently, looking out the window. “She probably has like face piercings and crazy dyed hair. Or like a shaved head or something cool like that.”

Dustin sighed. She probably was badass. Way cooler than they were. Way too cool to bring around the dork squad.

“Does that sound like anyone you’ve seen around here?” Lucas said skeptically.

“Yeah, I dunno. Gareth said he was into like… suburban moms.” Dustin grimaced.

“Excuse me?” Steve sputtered.

Will made a disgusted noise.

“I know.” Dustin shivered.

“Better watch out for your mom then.” Lucas snickered. Dustin shot him a dirty look.

“Yeah, no way.” Mike shook his head. “He had to be messing with you or something. Eddie probably has like, groupies and stuff.”

“Please. That man has no game.” Lucas said. Steve snorted but played it off like a cough.

“That man runs the game.” Dustin said defensively.

“You know that’s not what that means.” Lucas said.

“The real question is, how long has this little dalliance been going on for?” Dustin pondered.

“Hey, you nosey little twerps. I really don’t think this is like, any of your business.”

“At least a few weeks right?” Lucas spoke up.

“And how do you know that?” Mike said.

“Cause that’s how long it’s been that Eddie’s been using the phrase ‘busy’ to get out of stuff. I mean he’s a jobless, drug peddling hobo, I don’t think I’ve seen Eddie be busy like, ever.” Lucas said, scratching his chin. “Until a few weeks ago that is.”

Dustin grinned widely. “It’s elementary, my dear Watson.”

“It’s invasive is what it is.” Steve grumbled. “Also, he’s not a hobo. He has a house.”

“Well, I guess, technically it’s a trailer.” Will said, rather pedantically.

“Well, it’s got four walls. And he lives inside them. Ergo…”

“He’s also been a lot nicer.” Will said thoughtfully.

“Huh?” Dustin and Steve said, and looked at him in unison.

“The last couple weeks, don’t you think?” Will said, smiling faintly. “He’s been nicer than usual. Or happier. I guess.”

“I guess.” Dustin said.

“You think?” Steve said.

“Okay,” Dustin should have a houndstooth cap and a pipe. “We have our timeline. Now, we need to root out suspects.”

“Alright, this, whatever this is, stops here. You nosey little twerps need to mind your own business.”

“But - “

“I don’t want to hear it. No buts.”

And that was the end of that. For now at least.

1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Tag List : @reading-archieves @homoerotictangerine @bingbongsupremacy @aroseandherthorns @wheneverfeasible @travelingtwentysomething @ineffable-monster-romancer @laughingphantoms @gregre369 @rawrx3ky-txt

(Stayed tuned for emotional immaturity! Reply to be added to the tag list!)

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Stranger Things #Dustin Henderson #mine

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hello-sweetheart · 3 months ago

Text

You know that trope where Person A thinks Person B is just being nice but they’re actually flirting. What about the opposite? Person A misreading their behavior and being the only one falling impossibly in love.

Clumsy in Love Part 2

It’s hard to listen to Eddie talk about this guy the same way Steve wished he did about him. Eddie, already so full of life and words, doesn’t seem to need to take a breather between his praises.

“Can’t believe this guy is actually into me, did you see him? Oh my god!” He groans and smacks his palms against the steering wheel, literally bouncing in his seat.

The van swerves a bit to the left.

“He’s just my type, too. Those eyes, prettiest eyes that have ever graced human existence, and they were looking at me. Me! Wow! The darkest green— I don’t think there’s any precious stone that can compare actually.”

He beams at him and Steve’s traitorous heart still flutters like a wounded bird helplessly flapping its broken wing. Eddie is smiling so hard his cheeks must hurt, eyes crinkled at the corners and teeth on full display.

Steve will close his eyes at night and replay these words, pretending that this excitement and instant adoration is about him. That Eddie’s love-struck smile is for him.

“And, to top it off, he’s a geek. A fucking nerd. He actually knows DnD! What are the chances, Stevie? I’m no religious man, but an angel must have heard mine desperate pleas.”

His name is Adiel, Eddie’s perfect guy.

Steve spends that night feeling the need to cry, the hurt is right there at the base of his throat refusing to spill.

Steve kind of wishes he did, maybe letting everything out would leave him feeling empty instead impossibly full of heartache.

Adiel is blond, a dirty blonde that means he must’ve had light locks as a kid. Face slim and cheek bones prominent, but his features are soften by button nose. Maybe Eddie is right, he looks like the angels depicted in stained church windows, but whereas angels are depicted in white, Adiel wore exclusively black.

He wasn’t decorated in rings and chains like Ed, only a few silver piercings in his ears and a couple on his lips. But it was evident they had much in common, even just by looks. More than Steve could ever say about him and Eddie.

Over the next couple of weeks they share their music, intrinsically understanding what it means to one another.

Getting it.

Getting it the way that Steve never could, even with hours of Eddie breaking it down for him. Maybe Steve never understood, but he loved those moments shared between them. Wonders if Adiel cherishes those moments too. If he takes it for granted.

They share everything with each other and Steve hears every little detail gushed between sickly sweet sighs. He’s trying to be a good friend, to listen and share Eddie’s happiness, but something inside him grows bitter. Angry. He hates feeling this way.

“I met his friends already, they’re a really cool bunch. I really think you guys would get along. They know all the best spots for people like us. There’s a whole world out there, Stevie—“

Stevie. His breath stutters.

“Of people like us with places for us. We could take Robin and Vicky and be surrounded by people that won’t, that won’t think we’re… wrong. And who knows,” he nudges Steve’s side with a suggestive smile, “maybe you’ll meet the one there, huh Stevie?”

“Stop. Just, just stop!”

Steve doesn’t mean to yell. He just can’t take it anymore. Everything that has been building up inside him has reached a point where he just can’t. He pushes Eddie away from him who looks startled. Offended and bothered and confused.

“I don’t want to meet his friends, or least of all him. I don’t get it, okay! I thought—“

What did he think? That one day he would confess to Eddie or vice versa? That they’d kiss and go on double dates with Robin and Vicky? That he would fall asleep each night in love and loved? It seemed plausible at some point. That’s what hurts the most.

“Hey, Stevie—“

“Don’t call me that! You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

“What? Your name? You don’t want me to call you by your name?”

A bitter laugh, “yeah. My name from your mouth.”

“I, You’re not making any sense!”

Steve knows. He knows. But Stevie, Big boy, Ozzy… even his own name, can’t bear to hear them. Not from him. Can’t bare the way his heart squeezes.

Eddie’s looking at Steve with furrowed brows and down turned lips, standing still. Has Eddie ever been still before in his life?

Once. When he was still and pale and red. His chest gone quiet for the most terrifying seconds of Steve’s life.

Steve looks at him, his eyes burn. Steve’s breath from his own chest brought Eddie back to them. Eddie’s lungs still carry his desperation. His ribs healed but the cracks must still be there from the palm of his hands. He’s tasted Eddie’s blood before from his mouth—

He’s kissing him. Steve, dumb stupid in-love Steve, has his lips on Eddie’s once more, but this time they’re warm and full of life and his ringed hands are on him and,

They’re pushing him. Away.

“Eddie,” his sight is blurry, eyes hot, and breath stuttered. “I, it hurts. You with him. I can’t—I just can’t.

And Eddie looks, terrified, dark eyes searching Steve’s face. For what, he does not know. Sincerity, maybe. Truth. Maybe looking to see if he’s really shattered inside.

“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t…I don’t…”

And Steve?

Steve smiles. It’s watery and his lips quiver.

“I know.” And that’s the problem, isn’t it. It’s always the problem. “I know, Eddie. I’m sorry. It’s, it’s okay.”

Eddie leaves Steve there in the living room.

There’s still two cans of Coke half full on the coffee table but only one person left in the room.

Part one < 💛 > Part 3

Tagged: @bananahoneycomb @margaglitterdeath

#clumsy in love #steddie #steddie headcanon #steddie prompt #steddie ficlet #steddie drabble #steddie fic #bee speaks

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tthoroughfare · 1 month ago

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garden daisy (part 2) // ellie williams

*･゜ﾟ･* summary: ellie makes a new friend, and you feel all weird about it.

*･゜ﾟ･* pairing: modern!ellie x reader

*･゜ﾟ･* content: sfw

*･゜ﾟ･* length: 1.6k

this is part two of this series! find part one here

okay so i feel like the way i've organized this series is kind of confusing as it started as a random blurb... technically part one is this blurb however the real story starts in the xmas fic! the blurb just kind of exists floating around somewhere before the events of that and sets up the dynamic. call it part 0.5 i guess. also i'm so sorry if ur name is haley it was genuinely the first name i thought of hahaha

after christmas, once you’re all settled back into life at college, ellie gets a new job. it’s just a few shifts a week at a music store, but she seems to be enjoying it. you’re happy for her; it’s nice to see her getting out of the apartment more, doing something that allows her to be in her element.

but then she starts mentioning a girl she works with. like, a lot.

“dude, look at what haley sent me today, i was dying.”

“haley had, like, the coolest shirt on at work.”

“oh my god, so i found out haley likes comics, too.”

at first, it doesn’t really bother you. then, it’s a case of you trying not to let it bother you. why even should it? she’s allowed to make new friends; her life doesn’t revolve around you.

still, you don’t like the way your chest starts to twist every time she gets mentioned, every time you see ellie smiling at her phone. you can hear them on facetime frequently through the thin walls of your apartment, and you more often than not end up shoving your headphones in to drown it out.

they start spending time together outside of work, too. she mentions that they’re going to see an exhibit together on a shared day off, and it takes everything for you to look up from your laptop, give her a tight smile and utter, “cool.”

you can tell she’s a bit dispirited by your reaction, like she’s debating saying something. she leaves it, though, just nodding once and pursing her lips before walking away. you kick yourself for it immediately — wishing you’d tried harder to appear enthusiastic for her. you’re worried it could be the seed of a wedge being driven.

it’s not like she’s completely neglected your friendship. you live together. you see her every day. she still gently knocks at your ajar door, poking her head around and asking if you want to watch a movie with her. you make dinner together on friday nights, something you’d done since you moved out of the dorms and got a semi-decent place.

you’re just so used to it being the two of you. sure, you both have other friends, but you’re best friends. you can’t help but feel a little uneasy all of a sudden someone new is making their way up the ladder, ellie not having quite as much time for you anymore.

at least, that’s what you tell yourself the reason is. you know the real one.

you eventually meet the esteemed haley when she comes over to hang out, and to your petty dismay she well and truly lives up to the boasting. you’ve seen pictures of her (as in, you found her on instagram and stalked her at two in the morning), but she’s even prettier in person. she’s sweet, too, giving you a hug and saying how great it is to finally meet you. ellie talks about you all the time, apparently.

the evening’s spent with the tv on, a few drinks sipped. you’re on one side of the couch, ellie on the other, new friend in the middle. you hate how genuinely likeable she is; she goes out of her way to speak to you, asking you questions about yourself and chatting jovially when you find common ground. she’s cool, smart, witty — it’s impossible not to compare yourself, and feel subpar. like old news.

and you wish you weren’t, but you’re reading into every little thing. the way the two of them easily bounce off of each other’s jokes, the way you can see even where you’re from how ellie’s eyes light up when she looks at her. deciding three’s a crowd and you’re just hurting your own feelings, you call it pretty early.

when you stand after finishing your drink and announce that you’re going to bed, you note the way that ellie’s face drops. “oh… really?”

you scrunch your nose, trying to sound untroubled. “yeah, i’m kinda tired, so…”

“m’kay,” she replies, chewing slightly at the inside of her cheek. she knows you better than that. since you first met, you’ve never been ‘kinda tired’ by nine.

after a pause and a quick look back and forth between the two of you, haley gives you a smile, reiterating her earlier statement. “well, it was so nice to meet you, anyway.”

you return it, nodding. your eyes flit to ellie for a split-second. “yeah, you too. see you both later.”

with that, you place your glass in the sink across the room and head off down the hall.

you change and get ready for bed, although the plan was never to sleep. you’re nestled under a blanket, lights dim and a candle burning as you keep your eyes trained on the bullshit stream of youtube videos you’d put on. you’re not really paying attention, mind well and truly elsewhere; simultaneously feeling sorry for yourself, and like the most petty, mean person in the world.

you feel pathetic for wishing ellie’s new friend wasn’t so easy to get along with. she came off as a nice person, and not in a sickly, fabricated way. you could understand how she’d easily tugged ellie out of her shell. a part of yourself had been secretly hoping she was irritating, or bitchy, or weird towards you — you just wanted something to latch onto, something to validate all the uncomfortable emotions that had been swirling ever since she became prominent.

but there was nothing. now all you’re left with is a weird bitterness towards a perfectly normal, sweet girl, her only crime being fetching up a childish possessiveness within you.

you don’t even understand why you’re like this over her in particular; ellie was always an introvert, but it wasn’t like she was a complete recluse. she’d had a serious girlfriend in high school, seen a couple of girls your first year of college, and you don’t remember feeling anywhere near how you are right now. you just guessed you didn’t have as much understanding of how you looked at her back then, combined with the domesticity of now having your own real place luring you into a warped way of thinking.

you hear haley leave around an hour and a half after you’d taken yourself to bed, followed by ellie shuffling around the kitchen space. the tap runs and there are a few clinks as she washes then places the three glasses to dry, hitting the lights off. her room’s further down the hall from yours, and she hesitates as she’s making her way there.

a few light taps sound from the other side of the door. “you asleep?”

“… no,” you call out softly, watching as it cracks open and ellie picks her way in. wordlessly, she plops herself onto the bed next to you, arm behind her head. you shift away a little, offering her more room.

“what’re you watching?”

“uh…” grabbing the remote, you pause the video for a beat so the title shows. you’re not even sure; you’d just selected the first you saw, then let the rest autoplay. “… ‘six most disturbing forest encounters caught on camera’.”

she chuckles. “spooky.”

“eh… they’re all fake.” you look up at her, smiling a little.

“could’ve fooled me.”

“i’m sure,” you laugh lightly, feeling the need to turn away when she goes to meet your eyes.

it’s quiet for a while, but you can sense she wants to say something. it’s not like one of the times she waltzes into your room simply to hang out, sit at the side of one another peacefully.

“you okay?” she eventually asks gently, turning her head to regard you. you don’t meet it.

“yeah, i’m fine.”

“you sure? ‘cause… i don’t know. you seem a little…”

“i’m all good.” glancing up, you offer an unconvincing, flickery smile. “don’t worry.”

“… okay.”

you can tell it offers no comfort, but she doesn’t push it. just settles further into the bed, scratching at her chin.

her eyes dart from the tv screen to the wall, then back to you. “haley’s cool, right? guessed you guys would get along.”

“yeah, she seems nice.”

she’s really not being subtle; but then again, neither are you. you’d been perfectly friendly while you were all together, but the way you’d disappeared coupled with your increasingly half-hearted responses whenever she was brought up pointed elsewhere.

“seriously, what’s up?” she turns onto her side to face you, resting her head on her arm. “i don’t like this.”

you roll your eyes, sighing as you turn, mirroring her. “it’s stupid.”

“what’s stupid?”

your mind flashes with a million ways you can get an overview of your feelings out, without having to tell her the root cause. “i don’t know, i’m just… like, used to it being… y’know, me and you.”

she pulls a face, letting out a fond scoff and furrowing her brow. “what do you mean?”

a tiny groan sounds from your throat, fingertips rubbing at your eye. “i’m just being stupid. fuckin’ embarrassing.”

laughing quietly again, she narrows her eyes a little. “what, are you, like… jealous?”

“no, i just… i don’t know. ignore me.” you’re trying to ignore the way you can feel your cheeks heat up when she says that word. you’d known all along that’s what you were, but being confronted with it is a whole other sensation entirely.

she doesn’t say anything for a moment, just keeps a small smirk on her face and looks down. “that is stupid.”

“right. thanks.”

“no, like…” subconsciously shuffling closer, her leg brushes yours. she quickly moves it. “dude, i can have other friends, but no-one’s gonna be you.”

you blink, thrown by her sincerity. you’d half-expected her to poke a little fun, call you a dumbass. she continues, your eyes meeting hers as she settles her head into the palm of her hand. “you’re always gonna be my best friend.”

yeah, i know, you think. that’s the problem.

#me at the wlw trope of laying in bed facing each other store #tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams #ellie williams fluff #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams tlou2 #wlw fic #lesbian fic #ellie #modern!ellie williams #modern!ellie #my writing #abbysleftbicepp #kaykeryyy

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unorthodoxfaithxx · 3 months ago

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Independence - (Yandere KaijuNo8 Hoshina x Reader)

nsfw, dubcon, yandere, afab, explicit sex, possessiveness, overstimulation

Where Hoshina has enough of your “independence” antics.

———————////////———————-//////—————

The quick, rough clacks of heels stomping the ground permeate the otherwise quiet night. You can hear the soft thuds of dance music beating from a distance from the club you were just brought out of.

“Ow, ow, ow,” You yelp, “That hurts! Let go, will you?”

The man pulling on your hand doesn’t let go, though his grip loosens.

You groan, frustrated at the chain of the events that just occurred. You were at the club with your girls, mingling it up, when your childhood friend barged in and dragged you out, JUST as you were getting friendly with a man who was exactly your type.

The cockblocking pisses you off. “Seriously, Soshiro, what’s gotten into you?”

He lets go of your hand, whipping around to face you.

“What’s gotten inta me? What’s gotten inta you? I’m gone on a mission for a month and then come back to see you hangin’ out with girls you barely know, gettin’ friendly with nasty dudes, at a trashy ass club in the most dangerous part o’ the city!”

“I’m a grown woman, Soshiro. I can do what I want. And I was perfectly safe in there.”

He ignores your words, pulling at your hand again. “Come on, we’re goin’ home.” You can tell he means business by the tone of his voice. There’s no point in arguing when he gets like this. Sighing, you follow him quietly into the car he had ready.

Hoshina lets a random radio station play while he drives. The ride home to your apartment is otherwise silent.

Watching the lights of the city get farther and farther away, you grind your teeth in annoyance. He’s always been like this since you were little. Overly protective and clingy, ESPECIALLY when it came to men trying to get to know you. Growing up, he was always threatening your crushes, getting between you and boys offering their love confessions, even keeping you away from his sport competitions during highschool.

“I don’t like the way my teammates look at ya,” He’d say, “It gets in the way of our game.”

Sure, you may have been frail as a kid and that warranted some protecting, but the both of you are now grown, and he still hasn’t let up on his “big brother” antics. It was ruining your love life, and tonight you were going to chew him out once and for all.

You huff in annoyance, not noticing the way Soshiro practically glares at the cleavage your tight dress reveals through the corner of his eye.

You two eventually make it home, and you fumble for your keys to open the door. You see Hoshina looking over his shoulder, scanning for any potential threats, and you roll your eyes. Once you unlock the door, you usher you in, and he shuts and locks the door behind him with a ‘click’.

You throw your purse on the dining table, waltzing over to the fridge to grab a water bottle in hopes you can cool down. Because right now, you want nothing more than to shove Hoshina down a set of stairs.

After taking a sip, you sigh and turn to Hoshina, who has been standing in the living room with his arms crossed, displeased.

“Soshiro, we need to talk. I’m not a defenseless kid anymore, you can’t keep controlling what I can do or who I can see.”

“Oh?” He raises a brow, a small pout still on his face.

“‘Oh’, yes. I’m a grown woman. And I’m tired of you being a cockblock every time I meet a man who seems even remotely interested in me. We’re still in our twenties! I wanna go meet people and have fun before it’s too late. And to be frank? You going on that Defense Force mission for a month has been great for my social life. I’ve been able to hang out with other friends, go on like 2 dates, and just feel free for once.”

Your expression softens when you see he’s obviously hurt by your words, “I don’t mean to be hurtful, ugh! I just…I want you to understand, I need to live my life.”

Your friend is silent for a minute, and before you can start to get nervous, he says quietly, “I understand.”

“You do?” You perk up, relieved to have finally had this talk with him.

“Oh yeah, I understand alright.” You don’t like the way he says that.

He makes way to where you stand, in slow, purposeful steps.

“While I been risking my life to protect this country, you been hoein’ around, is that it?” Hoshina antagonizes, taking a few steps closer as you back pedal. He stops once you’re chest to chest, your back hitting the kitchen walls with a soft thump.

“Really? That’s what you got outta that? You idiot, that’s not it at all, I—“

“Enough with the excuses.” Hand smacking the wall beside your head, he leans down, whispering in your ear. “I think it’s high time you realize who ya belong to.”

He grabs your chin, tilting your face upwards for a searing kiss, your lips colliding. The young man’s warm tongue snakes into your mouth to explore its walls, and you’re so taken aback that you just let him, the sensation leaving your legs feeling a little unsteady.

He takes advantage of your surprise, slinging you over his shoulder with ease, and speed walks to your room.

Once the two of you reach the door, he swings it open and throws you on the mattress with a “thud”.

“Soshiro, what the fuck!”

“You wanna get with a guy so bad? Fine. But it’s won’t be anyone else ‘sides me.”

He crawls on top of you, planting both hands beside your head as he towers over your form. You gaze up at him, astonished at his words.

“Wait, wait wait — This is all so sudden, I—you—what?”

He growls in frustration, nipping at your neck. The deep rumble of his voice and the sensation of him marking you surprisingly stirs something up in your core.

“Did ya really never notice how bad I wanted ya since we were teenagers? All this time I been keepin’ you away from anyone else ‘cause I thought you were mine, an’ I wanted ya to stay mine. But here we are, with you thinkin’ just ‘cause you’re grown up that ya can up an’ leave me behind.” You don’t notice until it’s halfway down, but Hoshina is unzipping the side of your strapless dress.

“Well I got a news flash for ya, sweetheart—

it ain’t gonna fuckin’ happen like that.” Once he finishes tinkering with the zipper, he pulls your dress off your body, revealing nothing but silicone nipple covers and lace panties too thin to be practical.

“Who the hell were ya gonna show these off to, huh?” He removes the tiny nipple covers, pushing them off to the side of the bed.

“N-no one…”

“Liar,” Your childhood friend is not gentle with your panties. He yanks them off you with a harsh snap of its strings. “No one can see you like this but me.”

He eyes your naked body hungrily, but you can tell he’s not happy. Only now do you understand that it’s not because he’s been worried for you—he’s mad because it’s not him you’re dressing scantily for.

“Fuck…you’re gorgeous. I’m gonna show ya who this body was made for.”

The soldier places a cold hand on your bare pussy, slowly stroking your slit, pulling the folds open and closed in a way that has you choking back a moan.

In no time, your opening grows moist. Hoshina smiles coyly when notices his fingers are coated with your juices. “Already so wet for me, ain’tcha?

The pace of his strokes eventually picks up, and when he opts instead to rub your clit in a circular motion, you can no longer hold back your voice.

You want to deny it, but it feels good. Really good. The feeling of his touch clouds your mind, and logic is thrown out the window. As unwise as it may be, and as weird as it is to be doing this with your life-long friend, your body convinces you it’ll be fine to let whatever happen, happen.

He smirks at your reaction, pleased to see you release the tension in your body, relaxing under his touch. “That’s it, sweet. Lemme hear more of those pretty moans.”

And let him you do. He rubs your clit at an unyielding pace, and when you start squirming involuntarily, one of his sinewy

arms clamps down on your thigh, holding it in place.

“Ah, ah, ah. No closing your legs,” He chides.

“F-fuck, but I’m-ah-gonna come!”

You can feel yourself reach the tipping point, mind going blank. You look your friend in the eyes, and the way that he stares at you so reverently, intensely, is what makes you reach that edge.

“Come for me then, baby.” That was the only encouragement you need, because that has you climaxing with rushing vigor, cunt spasming and pulsing in waves. Tears of pleasure begin to emerge at the corners of your eyes, and you breathe a sigh of contentment.

Happy with himself, the young man barrels his mouth into yours, refusing to separate until the both of you are gasping for air. You use a hand to tug at his hair hoping it’ll make him pull back, but he doesn’t relent, instead grunting a moan. Only when you start pushing on his chest does he separate from you.

“Sorry,” He barely sounds sorry, you think, “Ya just taste so damn good.”

With a trail of saliva dripping from his mouth and yours, he moves down to latch onto one of your breasts.

A warm appendage flicks across your nipple, shooting pleasure down into your core. You didn’t know your tits could ever feel this good. When he proceeds to bite and suckle, you’re washed with a sensation that has you swearing you feel yourself melting away.

Hoshina laps at your other hardened areola, teasing the former with the pinch of his fingers.

But then a thought crosses his mind. “Ya haven’t done this with anyone else before, right?” He mumbles, face nestled between your breasts.

You don’t answer, and he stops what he’s doing, much to your body’s chagrin.

He removes himself from your chest. His hand squeezes your other breast a little tightly, and when he looms over you, he’s dripping with malice. “Right?”

“Ugh,” You’re embarrassed to admit it, refusing to look him in the eye, “Right. I-I’ve never done anything with anyone before.”

And you aren’t lying. Hoshina’s always done a damn good job at keeping all potential lovers at bay. You’ve never even kissed another man before.

That settles his nerves. “Good girl.” He kisses your collarbone.

“If you did, I woulda made you confess which fella it was with and kill him.” He says that so nonchalantly, you worry it’s true. “You don’t belong to anyone but me, got it, sweet thing? You’re mine.”

The possessiveness should scare you, but it doesn’t. In fact, his claims spur on your arousal. When one of his hands warningly wraps around your throat, a shiver runs down your spine. “Say it,” He demands with a dangerous glint in his eyes, “You’re mine.”

“I-I’m yours, Shiro.” As he hears you call him by that stupidly intimate childhood nickname, he feels his cock ache.

“That’s a good gal.” He releases his grip on you, moving to take off his clothes. “I missed you so much during my mission, ya know that? Stayed up late thinkin’ of ya.”

He unzips and removes his jacket.

“Yeah?” You inquire, not sure where he’s going with this conversation.

“Yeah. Stayed up thinkin’ ‘bout how good you’d feel under me. Thought about my cock deep inside ya, right. Here.” He places a hand below your belly button, pressing deep. “Remembered how sexy you looked in that tiny ass swimsuit last summer, and wished I was back at the beach with you again, this time fucking you stupid. Thought about how good you’d sound moaning my name while your tight cunt milks me dry, and that everyone around would know who it is you belong to.”

Fuck, since when was your friend so good with dirty talk? You’ve never heard him so vulgar in your life. The thought of being wanted so badly makes your heart ache, and you feel yourself turning red.

“Daww,” Hoshina coos, “Is someone blushing?” He licks his lips, eyeing you like a tiger would eye a plump rabbit, and you gulp. “Fuck, that’s cute. You’re adorable.”

With his clothes fully removed and tossed to the side, you take in the sight of his body. He’s not a giant of a man, although toned muscles decorate his limbs in a way that make him look bigger than you’d expect.

You don’t want to admit it, but he’s quite the looker. What you’re most concerned with though is how large his member is. It’s hard, veiny and obviously protruding. You gulp nervously, suddenly self conscious of your lack of love-making experience.

Before you can overthink things, the soldier takes the lead. He gives his shaft a stroke and moves your hand to wrap around his dick, getting you to stroke him in a slow, easy motion.

You see his body tremble under your touch, and he lets out a deep sigh, like he’s relieved after holding back for so long.

“Fuuuuuck, yer hands feel so soft. Just like I always imagined.”

You stroke his thick member a few more times, admiring how sensitive his body was under your touch.

“Good girl. Just like that baby, yeah. Fuck, you make it hard to hold back.”

The praises do something to you, and you find yourself eager to hear more from him.

But just as quick as Soshiro was to praise you, he was quick to flip you onto all fours, and with a yelp your eyes stare at nothing but the bedpost.

You don’t even have time to realize what’s going on when you feel Hoshina’s thick head invade your wet hole, stuffing you full as you feel the pressure inside your body build.

“Oh gawwwwwd,” You moan, never having felt such a sensation before.

It’s so overwhelming, taking you by surprise—you immediately crawl forward to move away, only to be aggressively held by the hips and yanked back into your starting position.

“Don’t you dare fucking run away,” The soldier warns dangerously, “I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t think about anythin’ else but my cock.”

And fuck you he does. His pace is merciless, thick member pounding in and out of your pussy until your legs are a quivering mess. Your senses are heightened, drool spilling from the corner of your mouth as you feel every veiny inch of his cock stuff you completely. It’s too fucking much.

“Too much, Shiro,” You beg with a sob, “I need a minute.”

“You’ll take all that I give ya, when I give it to ya.” And you yelp as he plants a slap on your asscheek.

“Fuck. The way that ass bounces from my dick is so hot.”

A finger slips into your asshole, gently sliding in and out. If it was overstimulating before, now it’s too much all at once.

“Please,” You plead in between moans. “It’s so much, Shiro. Gawd, I- I can’t!”

“Oh yes you can,” He admonishes, “And you will.”

Another hard slap lands on your ass. “Apologize for trying to abandon me.”

Your mind and body now fully under the influence of lust, you do whatever he tells you.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry for abandoning you!”

“You like it in both holes, don’tcha? Slut.”

“Yes yes yes, I like it in both holes! It feels so good being stuffed in both holes!”

“And who do you belong to?”

“You, Shiro! Just you!”

His chuckling is low and deep, sending waves of pleasure down your spine.

“Good girl. My good fucking girl.”

He lurches forward, and your arms and legs give out from underneath you. Laying flat on your stomach, Soshiro’s weight keeps you from moving even an inch. In this position, with him on top of you as he grips your breasts, your friend’s cock buries in you even deeper than before. He humps into you without remorse, and once he moves a hand to your mouth, you instinctively suckle on his fingers.

He moans at the sensation, groaning under your touch. The perversion of the whole scenario drives him wild.

“Fuck, did I tell you yer really tight?” He says through gritted teeth. “Can’t keep this up much longer.”

Now it’s your turn to tell him what to do.

“Cum for me, Shiro. I need you to cum!”

He laughs at your audacity, gripping you tighter.

“Oh yeah?” He grunts with a smirk, hot breath against your ear. “And where does my girly want me to cum, huh?”

It’s risky, but fuck it. You’re so horny you can barely think straight. “I-inside me!”

Your request gets him going, making him thrust even faster, harder than you thought was possible.

“Fuck, girly, gonna cum!”

The feeling of his cum filling you up also is your tipping point, and you cry out as your final orgasm is ripped out of you.

“Shiiiiiiit,” Soshiro whimpers, slowing his piston-ing down until your pussy finally milks every last drop of semen from him.

He slowly pulls out, and you feel suddenly empty once his dick is no longer inside you.

With a quick flip, he’s on his back, arms spread out, staring at the ceiling with much thought.

You roll over to look at him.

“So,” You break the silence, “Does that, uh, I should consider you my boyfriend now?”

He gives you a look.

“Depends. You wanna be kidnapped and locked inside a basement against yer will?”

“Uh, no?”

“Then yes, we’re datin’ now.”

“Oh! Uh. Okay.”

—-////——//////————

That concludes my fanfic, folks! Sorry it took so long to make. I was struggling a lot with writer’s block and some life events that were outside of my control, but I’m here! And alive!

Honestly, what made me finish this story was seeing that the yandere tag on Tumblr was lackin’ in writing as of late, heheh. Anyways thanks for stopping by! Until next time!

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