#just because there’s no angst doesn’t mean i can’t be dramatic >:)

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 5

in which spencer reid and fem!reader are reunited, but the worst kind of sparks are flying. you meet a man named randall. derek morgan buys you a drink (sort of). it seems that some things can't be unsaid.

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this series is 18+ warnings/tags: r goes to a bar but doesn't drink alcohol, gets hit on by weird men, dramatic, angst, sorry in advance a/n: surprise! i'll see myself out. love you! lmk your thoughts on this bad boy! i KNOW you'll have some! i'm locking all my doors and the cops are on speed dial after posting this. stay tuned for part six tho

You don’t call Spencer for four days. 

Spencer doesn’t call you for four days. 

It’s scary. 

There’s some texting—mostly him giving you updates on how things are going and when he expects to be back. Mostly you giving the messages a thumbs up and saying nothing else. 

Finally, on Thursday afternoon, his ringtone (the Bill Nye theme) makes you jump as you’re sitting on your bed staring into space. 

His caller ID photo—which is simply his passport photo, because you’d thought it was adorable—stares at you. You stare back. Contemplate not picking up. 

But you’re not quite there yet. 

And you cannot keep listening to Bill Nye the Science Guy. 

The answer button is cold under your thumb, but not as cold as your greeting. 

“Hi.”

You barely recognize your own voice. 

It seems to send Spencer for a loop as well, because his reply is halting. 

“Hey! Hi, um—how are you? I feel like we’ve barely talked this week.”

That would be because you told me my feelings for you are stronger than your feelings for me and I don’t know how to stop making every single word I say secretly mean I love you. We can’t have a conversation without me loving you. It will always be in the room or on the phone with us. To ignore the presence of it is impossible, and I don’t know if I can ignore the absence of yours, either. 

“Uh… yeah. I’m fine. What’s up?”

There’s a pause. 

“We wrapped up this morning. We’re getting on the jet here in a few minutes, and, um—I know it’s not ideal, but we missed Derek’s birthday and Penelope is insisting we all go to his favorite bar tonight. And he told me that for his birthday he wants to meet you. So… would you be up for that?”

“You want… to take me to a bar?”

“No. I mean—I know it’s not really your thing, but we missed Derek’s birthday three years in a row, and—and I understand if you don’t want to meet him tonight, but we wouldn’t have to stay very long and I really, really shouldn’t skip it. Derek has saved my life on more than one occasion.”

“You could go without me.”

More silence. Every second hurts, but you don’t understand why he wants you to come meet his best friend if he thinks the two of you are in different places emotionally. 

But maybe he’s not going to break up with you just yet. Maybe he’s going to keep inviting you to bars and foreign film festivals and bookshops. Maybe he’s going to treat you exactly the same as he always has but with this new added layer of knowledge that the way he treats you isn’t actually love, and it never was, and you’re not sure if it has the potential to ever become love. Because if it did—wouldn’t it have already? What more do you have to offer than what you’ve already given him?

Breakup or no breakup, you feel sick. 

When he speaks his tone is similarly chilly. It’s welcome. You want him mad. If he can’t reciprocate your adoration, then the very least he can do is have the decency to reciprocate your reproach. 

“I could. Is that what you want?”

No. I don’t want any of this. I need you to know me well enough to know that. And if you can’t love me then at least get angry. At least show me you feel something other than passive contentment. 

“Yeah. Sure. I don’t know.”

A pause stretches so long your heart pounds. You watch the elapsed time of the call tick by, second by second, and you wait for the anticipation to crack under the weight of silence, to give way to some terrible jump scare or to give way at all. 

But the words that end the conversation (if you can even call it that) aren’t any great relief. They’re just sad, and chalk full of defeat. 

“Alright. I’ll… I’ll call you later.”

You feel like you’ve swallowed an ice cube. All the words you’d like to say are frozen in your stinging throat. 

“Okay. Um… I’ll let you board now.”

“The jet’s not…” but he trails off. When he speaks again he sounds just as hurt as you’d wanted—and it doesn’t make you feel better at all. “Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

The line goes dead, and your face is burning as tears fill your eyes for the hundredth time this week. That call was terrible and poisonous and you don’t feel like yourself. 

Things have gone so wrong so quickly, and all you know how to do is ice him out so he can’t do it to you first. But it’s not going to make this better. No matter how mean you are to him, at the root of it all you feel unloved and scared and alone and Spencer knows things about love and relationships that you don’t. He’s confusing you with all this talk of feeling differently about each other and I’ll be home tomorrow I miss you and things get complicated when one person likes the other more and let’s talk in person and will you come meet my best friend tonight. All of it leaves you motion sick and ugly crying in the fetal position. 

All you have to get through this is who you’ve always been, a little of the person you’ve become, and the love you harbor for Spencer which rattles around in your chest like a nail in an empty toolbox. At the moment it hardly seems helpful. It mocks you, pointing out the pathetic hilarity of your paradox. The only person who can comfort you, the person you want more than anything, is the reason you’re so upset in the first place. But you can’t help being drawn to him. 

Maybe the love you have for Spencer is more like a magnet in a compass. 

Even if he doesn’t feel it for you, you do love Spencer. And that goes beyond just loving the parts of him that like you. To hide from that love would be a gross disservice to yourself and all the work you’ve done to get here. It’s not as if you suddenly know exactly what the answer is—but you’re sure that hiding is the most childish, cowardly thing you could do and the furthest you could get from a resolution. Even if you can’t make him love you back, you refuse to allow yourself to fizzle quietly out of his life. This relationship deserves something more than that. 

So maybe you don’t have a plan when you wipe your eyes and pick up your phone. Maybe there’s no strategy behind your actions as you text Garcia for the bar location. But if you keep running from everything you’ll never get anywhere. All you can do is show up. It seems like the next best step. 

------

The pub isn’t too crowded—but for a Thursday night, you suppose it’s a bit busy. 

Boot heels hooked onto the metal foot-beam of the stool you’re sitting on, elbows resting on the polished mahogany surface of the bar, you’re staring into an untouched mixed drink. Then you glance down the bar to your right, at the man who’d bought it for you. 

Maybe your ensemble gave him the wrong idea. 

Coming to this gathering had required bravery, and you came armored. Your ensemble projects significantly more confidence than you’re currently feeling. It was intentional, a form of self-protection—but now you’re wondering if it’s projecting a little too much confidence. 

All done up, clearly still a little rough around the edges, and sitting alone at a bar was bound to draw the wrong pairs of eyes. 

“Hey, darlin’,” the gruff man says, approaching when you inadvertently catch his gaze. “Are you gonna drink that, or should I? Otherwise I’m lookin’ at eleven dollars right down the drain.”

You avert your eyes, scanning the groups dotted here and there. 

“I’m waiting for friends.”

“Does that make a free drink less appealing?”

He takes the stool next to you, off-gassing the scent of cigarettes and leather. 

“I’m not drinking.”

“Really? I’ve never seen a girl who looks as sad as you do come sit at the bar to stay sober.”

You frown, looking back up at the man next to you. He seems like the Hell’s Angels type—tattooed knuckles, leather jacket, grey beard, and a weathered face that’s clearly spent decades with the sun. Fifties, maybe younger and just looks more rugged. What does it say about how I look tonight that this is the kind of man I’m attracting, you wonder. Maybe you look desperate and just as lonely as you feel. As he claims you do. 

“I’m not sad.”

“Alright. I’ll take your word for it. But a happier girl wouldn’t be all alone.”

“I’m waiting for friends,” you repeat, letting the words drip like venom from your tongue. 

“I’m Randall. See? Now we're friends.”

“I don’t need more friends. I like the ones I have.”

Something catches Randall’s attention long enough to catch yours. He raises his bottle vaguely, gesturing beyond your shoulder. 

“Are those angry lookin’ guys in the suits marching right over here the friends you’re talking about?”

You turn your head, brows furrowed, and immediately see the gentlemen to whom your new pal is pointing out. 

Spencer is storming across the bar looking close to furious (which for him, means an expression so placid it gives you chills) followed by Derek Morgan—a man who you’ve only seen pictures of and is even more impressive in person. 

You hate how your breath catches, how your heart is already beating a little faster than usual at the sight of him even though you’re not exactly pleased with each other right now. 

Suddenly the bubbles in your cocktail are once again fascinating.

“Those are the ones.”

“And why are they dressed for church?”

Church?

“They’re FBI.”

“Ah. My lucky fuckin’ day.”

You almost snort. 

“Hey,” Spencer says sternly, hand settling on your back as he partially fills the small space between you and the strange man. “Who’s this?”

You shrug, sit up a little straighter, and take a shallow breath—not because you’re scared of this man but because Spencer is suddenly so close to you and you can feel his warmth and the air bending around him and the scent of him is genuinely dizzying to you. 

“Randall,” you exhale unenthusiastically. But the odd thing is that you’re rather grateful for Randall’s presence. Because now Spencer is here and you have no idea what you’re going to say to him. 

“Oh,” Randall says, sipping his beer unhurriedly before using it to gesture to Spencer. “You’re the boyfriend. You know, that’s funny, because she didn’t mention a boyfriend.”

“I didn’t mention anything. We weren’t having a real conversation.”

Randy holds his hands up defensively, fingers still wrapped around the neck of a sweating bottle. 

“I’m just saying it’s in-ter-esting. Not trying to start anything.” He stands, pauses for another sip—Spencer obviously isn’t sure what to make of this man because he says nothing. “But listen, man to man—you better buy her some flowers or a real pretty fuckin’ necklace or somethin’ because a happy girl in a happy relationship does not come pout at the bar all by herself.”

“Get out of here, man,” Derek finally speaks up. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He sets his empty bottle down and fishes in his pocket for a cigarette, sticking it between his lips. “But—just for the record—I have a wife. I wasn’t gonna do anything weird. Sometimes when you’re my age you just gotta live a little. Buy a pretty girl a drink. Piss off some Mormons, or whatever the fuck you are.”

This guy sounds like a bad Bruce Springsteen song. But part of you would almost rather hang out with Randall than be forced into a conversation you’re not prepared for with Spencer. 

And whose fault is that, you remind yourself. You decided to come be mature. Suck it up. 

“Goodnight,” Derek emphasizes. 

Spencer doesn’t say a word. You can feel his eyes boring smoking holes into the side of your face, and you look anywhere else.  

“I’ll be here next week after physical therapy like clockwork,” the stranger waves as he ambles away—but not before pointing at you. “You enjoy that drink, friend. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

What a weird man. 

There’s silence for a moment—in which Spencer refuses to stop watching you and you refuse to acknowledge that. 

“And here I was thinking Spencer made you up.” Derek has a beautiful smile and a warm, charming cadence as he holds out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Derek.”

You take the proffered hand and shake, offering him a shy smile and introducing yourself in kind. 

“Happy birthday, by the way. Sorry for crashing your party.”

Really, he’s stunning. 

“Thank you, sweetheart. And you’re not crashing anything. I told pretty boy here I wanted to meet you the second he started talking about a friend. But nah, he just wanted to talk and talk and talk about you—” 

“Alright,” Spencer mumbles, blushing, eyes finally torn from your profile. You smile slightly, brows knitting as Derek magically melts some of the terrible tension.

“Pretty boy?”

Before either of them can explain, someone shrieks in your general direction. You startle backward in your seat, and Spencer steps closer, hand sliding up your back as Penelope, JJ, and Emily join your little huddle. For only a second you allow yourself to shrink into him—before you’re straightening your posture like your spine is a metal rod and his touch burns. It’s a knee-jerk defensive reaction for which you have no explanation. You can’t see him, but you don’t feel his hand on you again. 

“Oh my god! Look at this beautiful person who I love!” Penelope exclaims, pushing past Derek to grab your face and kiss both of your cheeks. “Oh my god,” she says again, wiping sticky lipgloss away with her thumbs, “I totally meant to ask before I did that. But your face is just so kissable. I’m so glad you decided to come!”

“Hi, Penelope,” you smile half-heartedly, incapable of reciprocating her cheery mood. Fortunately, she’s cheery enough for a standard commercial flight’s worth of people, and probably thinks of Derek’s birthday as a national holiday—so she doesn’t pick up on this. 

Emily and JJ offer you tamer although perfectly kind greetings. 

“Ooh, what are you drinking?” Emily asks, leaning closer to examine the forgotten beverage in front of you. 

“Not that,” Spencer mutters, grabbing the glass and sliding it away from you. You give him an affronted look—and immediately wish you hadn’t, since you’re meeting his eyes for the first time since he left. His words stall for just a moment as his eyes dart between yours before he’s saying, “you shouldn’t accept a drink if you didn’t watch someone make it.”

The audacity of him to be acting protective makes you scoff. 

“That guy didn’t spike my drink. He was harmless.”

“People thought Ted Bundy was harmless, too.”

It’s such a ridiculous thing to say that you don’t even have a response—your eyes simply narrow and you shake your head. A claustrophobic silence falls over the small group. 

“Okay…” JJ murmurs. “Um, do you guys want to go check out the jukebox with me? We have to play all of the birthday boy’s favorites.”

Several enthusiastic yeses go around, but you’re too busy having a stand off with your boyfriend to take much notice. 

Soon, it’s just the two of you. 

“Controlling isn’t a good look for you,” you finally say, spinning to rest your elbows on the bar once more and studying the bottles of liquor on the shelves beyond. 

“Evasive and avoidant isn’t particularly flattering, either. I was under the impression that you had no intention of coming after that phone call earlier.” 

You scoff again as your blood heats. Already the conversation is going worse than you’d expected—and your expectations were not high. 

“Do you think the cab driver was a serial killer, too? Or maybe the bartender?”

He’s still behind you and slightly to the side—but he leans down, resting his own fists on the bar right next to you and speaking lowly, directly over your shoulder. 

“Why don’t you try speaking to me like we’re adults instead of starting meaningless arguments in order to get under my skin?”

From him, that hurts. 

It’s a branch on the tree of your greatest insecurity—the fear that you’re too inexperienced with relationships and that makes you too immature and he’s been lying every time he says it’s not an issue. Because of course it’s an issue. It’s why you fell in love with him, it’s why you don’t know how to fix it, and it’s why you’re incapable of actually expressing any of your feelings to him.

“Why do you think I’m here right now?” you whisper—as sharp and stinging as a poison dart. “I’m trying to be a fucking adult. I don’t want to be here.”

Silence. 

“Then why did you come?”

His voice is so calm it burns like dry ice. 

“Because! Because you asked me to, because—”

You can’t bring yourself to say it aloud. 

Because I’m obviously still in love with you and I can’t just turn that off. I tried to do the right thing. 

Instead you bury your face in your hands and let it hang in the air, unspoken. You know he knows. You just don’t know why he’s acting like you’re so unreasonable for being upset. 

“Let me make this very clear to you,” Spencer murmurs, brushing your hair away from your ear so tenderly, speaking so softly you could convince yourself that he’ll say something kind. It’s the closest he’s been in days and now that he’s here you feel how much you missed him in your bones. And even though you sense a trap, you can’t help but sit up straighter. You’ll be complicit in your own undoing if it means you can have him close. His breath shakes slightly as he inhales and you brace as best you can. “Nobody is forcing you to be here. You told me you weren’t coming and then you decided to show up. I was ready to give you the space that you were too scared to ask me for. But I can only take responsibility for so much of what is ultimately your bad behavior and your adolescent volatility. You can only blame so much of your bad behavior on inexperience before I run out of patience because I don’t find thoughtlessness and emotional immaturity compelling. I told you that if there is a disparity in the way we feel for each other, that was fine, and I meant it. But if you can’t cope with how I feel about you then don’t let me hold you back. I am not holding you hostage. You can leave whenever you want. So don’t waste your time punishing me because you don’t want to be here. And if you do want to be here, good. I want that too. But act like an adult and make a decision. My leniency has limits, even for you. I am asking that you do not push it any further than you already have.”

You don’t know how long it’s been since your last breath by the time he finishes his address.

Long enough that you’re dizzy when you push away from the bar and shoulder through the throng of patrons as quickly as you reasonably can without outright running. 

Long enough that when you burst out the door into the biting-cold night air, and finally take a deep, gasping breath, it burns and stings and aches and so does your head and your eyes as they well with hot, furious, heartbroken tears. 

You speed-walk to the end of the block, hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your cries and all the curse words you’d love to scream. 

Part of you knows you walked away from the bar in case he decided to try and follow you—but when you look over your shoulder the sidewalk is empty. You should’ve known better than to think he’d follow you after that. But at least it means you can have your breakdown by the relative safety of the bar, leaning your back against the dirty brick facade next to the entrance alcove and sliding down until your butt hits the cold concrete and you don’t even care. 

Who the fuck was that man in the bar who looked like Spencer and sounded like Spencer but spoke to you like this is all your fault, like it’s your fault you love him and he doesn’t love you back, like it’s ridiculous that you’d be upset, like you’re cruel and petty for having feelings about it, about him—for having any fucking feelings at all? And to think that was the man who you let know you more intimately than anyone ever has. Every insecurity you’d ever admitted to him was hurled back in your face like it was nothing. Hell—he even handed you the ones you’d never mentioned. He proved every terrible thought you’ve been having about yourself right. 

How could he be so unabashedly mean to you?

Spencer doesn’t have to love you. It seems clearer now than ever that he doesn’t. But part of you wonders if he suffered some sort of traumatic brain injury because that’s the only explanation for why he could go from treating you how he did before to treating you like he doesn’t even like you. 

You feel like you might throw up. 

“Called it,” a rasping, grumbling voice says from a few feet away. 

You look up, and spot fucking Randall standing under a street light ten feet away, still smoking. 

You go back to studying the tar spots on the sidewalk through bleary eyes. Pebbles sting as they press into your palms. Another one of the universe’s terrible jokes, you suppose. Just earlier you’d thought that you’d rather talk to Randall than Spencer and now here you are and here he is. 

“That kid as much of a dipshit punk as I thought he was?”

Hearing Spencer described as a kid and a dipshit punk is so jarring you almost stop crying. 

“He’s not a dipshit,” you sniff, voice thick with tears as you find yourself explaining Spencer Reid to this stranger for no reason at all. “He has an IQ of 187. He’s a genius.”

“Ah,” he scoffs dismissively, flicking ash from his cigarette. “Dipshit-ism don’t discriminate. Anyone can be one. Even your genius punk boyfriend. As a recovering dipshit myself I know what the work of a fellow dipshit looks like. And this has dipshit written all over it.”

You sob harder. 

Randall speaks calmly around his cigarette. 

“You know, I’m sorry for whatever you got goin’ on. But I’ve never not been the asshole when I got a hysterical woman in front of me. It’s nice that I can confidently say this time it is not my fault.”

The bar door opens, letting a warm burst of jovial music and chatter into the otherwise still night. Steps that are too heavy to be Spencer’s hit the concrete next to you—you look to your left and see Derek Morgan before he looks down and sees you. 

“Hey—you okay out here?”

“Why don’t you go ask your Jehovah’s Witness buddy? He did this.”

Derek makes a face, locating the source of this interjection. 

“Sir, I asked you to leave her alone once and I don’t appreciate being made to repeat myself. Are we clear?”

“Yeah, whatever. Fuck me for making friendly conversation, I guess. Gonna have to call my wife and tell her to pick me up down the street. I don’t want her on the damn phone while she’s driving.”

Randall wanders away again, still muttering to himself and smoking. Derek watches him go, staring daggers into his back until he turns his gaze to you. 

Goodbye, Randall, you think. Great. Now I have neither of them. 

“Hey,” he softens, crouching down to your level. “You okay?”

You sniff, wiping your cheeks and attempting not to smudge your makeup. It’s impossible not to feel awkward—you just met this guy and now he’s here trying to do emotional labor for you on his birthday. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. This is embarrassing.”

“You don’t look fine. Can I do anything for you? Do you want some food? A drink?”

“You really don’t have to—”

“I know, I know. But look—Reid is always talking about you. You’re important to him, and he’s important to me. I’ve never seen him this happy and I’ve known that kid a long time. It is in my best interest that someone maintain you, and if it’s not him, it’ll be me. Call it a favor to him, if that makes you feel better.” Derek is sporting a slightly more modest Cheshire grin again by the end of his sentence. Listening to him speak that way about Spencer speaking about you, it’s impossible not to feel a teeny bit lighter. Even if you’re not entirely sure where you stand on all things Spencer related at the moment. “So I’ll ask you again. Is there anything I can do for you?”

You sniff again. 

“Sure. A ginger ale or something might be good.”

“Got it. I’ll be back. And come inside if Randall tries to run up on you again, okay?”

Despite yourself you manage a laugh at the way he says the name. His warm smile flickers warmer at this.  

“Will do.”

When Derek returns a few minutes later, the plastic cup he’s holding looks decidedly not like ginger ale. 

“Penelope insisted that this is what you would want. I don’t even know.”

You smile slightly as you take the cup, full to the brim with bubbles and thick red syrup. A cherry bobs underneath the layer of cubed ice. 

“Shirley temple,” you chuckle. “I’ll take it. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he says, flashing that brilliant smile again, and you look into your cup as you drink. Maybe your face warms just a bit. You’re still shy around men, you realize. Especially attractive ones. And Derek Morgan definitely qualifies as attractive. 

“So,” he begins, and to your surprise, crouches down in front of you. “I have to be honest—I came out here in the first place because Reid sent me to check on you. But now I’m wondering what the hell he did.”

Spencer sent him. A considerate action that would theoretically signal his care for your feelings. You take another sip, staring into space and trying to digest this information, but it only jumbles with the rest to confuse you more. 

Of course, you don’t know how to convey this to Derek in a way that’s not overly-familiar for just having met the man, so you go with an old standby. 

“I’m probably just overreacting.”

“Uh-huh. I have sisters. I know what an overreaction looks like and if you were overreacting you wouldn’t be out here hiding. What’d he do?”

You can only keep up the facade of emotional stability for so long. Your chin wobbles in a horribly embarrassing way and you look down again. 

“I’m not sure—I’m not sure if he really did anything or if I’m just being dramatic and I don’t want to make him seem—”

“Why don’t you stop defending him and just tell me what he did?” Derek urges. “Trust me—I love that kid to death. But I also know he can be a dick sometimes. You don’t need to worry about making him look bad in front of me.”

Part of you is glad Spencer has such a good friend on his side. And Derek is right—Spencer is an adult. You don’t need to worry about besmirching his reputation. So you take a shuddering sigh, staring into the red of your drink. 

“He just doesn’t like me as much as I like him. Which isn’t his fault, like I said, but—he’s being such an asshole about it.”

Derek pulls a face, strong eyebrows making an impression as they knit.  

“Did he tell you that?”

“Over the phone,” you nod emphatically. “And just now he gave me this whole fucking speech about how immature and horrible I am for not being 100% happy about it. And maybe he’s partially right, I mean—I know people feel things differently and maybe he just was asking for more time. I worry I fucked it up so bad because I couldn’t handle that—but at the same time he didn’t say he wanted more time. He was really fucking unclear and vague about what he wanted, and he asked me to come to this bar like it was nothing when I’ve been worried he was going to break up with me all week. So yeah, I guess he’s right and I have been a bitch about it because I was upset that he didn’t… like me as much. And I wanted him to feel bad because I was so embarrassed, and I also didn’t want to act like everything was normal if he was just going to dump me, I…” you realize you’ve been hardcore rambling and your face heats. “I don’t know.”

There’s a pause, and you worry you’ve done exactly the thing you didn’t want to, which was overshare to this man who seems like he’s significantly more normal and well-adjusted than you. You drink deeply, swallowing sugar and the rest of your words. 

“That’s… bizarre. I don’t mean to invalidate your feelings, but… that just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, projecting annoyance so you won’t start crying again. “I was confused too. I thought he really liked me.”

“No, sweetheart, I’m saying—that doesn’t make sense because he does really like you. Really, really likes you, more than I’ve ever seen him like someone before. I mean, last week I finally finished that Tesla biography he’s been on my ass about for months and when I told him, all he wanted to do was talk about your thoughts on it. And then it wasn’t even about the book anymore. I have never, ever seen Reid pass up an opportunity to talk about Nikola Tesla. I’m talking never in my life. He finds a way to make every conversation about you. I can’t even follow the connections sometimes but he always finds a way.”

Your nose wrinkles. 

“Sorry you’ve had to hear so much about me,” you mumble. Though you’re not really sorry. It feels good. A twinge of joy in all the murk. 

“I’m not. Like I said, I’ve known Spencer for a long time and I’ve never seen him this happy. I’m not about to let him fuck it up.”

“If I make him so happy then why did he tell me we don’t feel the same?” you whisper, reaching into the puddle of syrup and ice at the bottom of your now empty cup. 

“Is that exactly what he said?” Derek asks, after a long pause. You bite the maraschino cherry off the stem and nod morosely, grinding a long-gone stranger’s cigarette butt with your boot just to crush something. There’s another beat of silence. “Alright. You know what I think?”

You raise your head to meet his gaze, your own wide-eyed and expectant. 

“I think you two need to have an honest conversation. You’re both confused and hurting—I promise Spencer is feeling it too. If you talk to him he won’t be unkind to you.”

“He already was,” you admit. 

“I apologize if I’m out of line here, but you just told me you’ve been icing him out all week because you want him to feel bad. I’m willing to bet you don’t realize how sharp these claws are.” Derek grabs your hand as he says it and you marvel at how much he is the opposite of you. Everything he does and says seems so natural and reasonable and charming even if it would piss you off from anyone else—and you just met the guy. You can see why Spencer and Penelope speak so highly of him. “I think you’ve probably both had your moments these past few days. But that doesn’t mean neither of you deserve any more chances.”

He puts your hand back on your knee and pats it. 

“Besides, Spencer‘s not good at mean. I bet he’s inside worrying himself sick over whatever dumb shit he said to you. He’s probably hyperventilating as we speak.”

“It was really out of character for him,” you concede. 

“Yeah. He’ll be apologizing for a long while. It will get annoying. But he sure as hell won’t be doing it again, I can tell you that much. If he does, let me know. Emily and I will whoop his ass and call it a fitness evaluation.”

“I think that’ll be unnecessary,” you laugh thickly, pulling your sleeve over your hand and wiping away the few tears that haven’t quite dried. “But thank you.”

“Anytime. Now, it’s my birthday, and as a grown man I should not be getting involved in someone else’s relationship drama. I was supposed to be on the dance floor a while ago.” His tone is so warm and sugary by the time he finishes it could rot his perfect grin. It’s futile to hide the way your mouth twists into a reluctant smile as you look down and fix your hair—praying he can’t tell how fazed you are by his kindness. “You’re going to talk to him, right?”

“I’ll—yeah. Right,” you say quietly. But the sinking feeling in your stomach knows it’s a thing easier said than done. 

“Good,” Derek grunts, taking your empty cup before pushing himself back up to his feet and offering you a hand. “Do you want me to send him out here or do you want to come find him inside?”

You balk.

“Like—right now? I have to talk to him now?”

Before he can give you an answer you think you’d rather not have, the bar door is opening. From your spot you can’t see who it is right away, but Derek turns over his shoulder and does a double take before looking back at you. 

Spencer steps out onto the sidewalk, eyes scanning for until he realizes you’re a few feet shorter than usual. Sitting on a filthy public walkway is probably his worst nightmare, you realize, as you scramble to your feet and dust the crumbs of concrete from your palms against the back of your cold jeans. He begins to say your name, and it sounds like relief and regret, but you stop him. 

“I have to go wash my hands.”

It’s monotonous and mumbled and comes out too quickly but you don’t have time to worry about that as you brush past both of the men on your way back into the bar, making an immediate beeline for the bathroom. 

Your face burns with anxiety as you shut the door behind you, immediately drowning in the yellowish lighting which is so harsh but seems to illuminate almost nothing. Who paints a bathroom red? It’s suffocating. You feel like you’re inside an aorta. 

Water runs cool over your hands as you sniffle, rinsing the bits of dirt from red indents made by pebbles and things, and the soap is too floral and powdery but you wash twice anyway. Maybe you’ll just stay in here and wash your hands forever. 

There’s a light knock on the shiny wooden door and it makes you jump. Your name is muffled from the other side. 

“You in there?” 

Quickly you wipe under your reddened eyes in the mirror, trying to fix the slightly smudged makeup. 

The door opens when you don’t respond, and there’s Spencer, looking weary and tense all at once. Is that your fault?

“Hey,” you sniff, trying to effect casualness, but it comes out too quickly and your posture is too stiff. Under his all-seeing gaze you cross and uncross your arms, look at him and look away. Your hands end up in your pockets. He’d say crossed arms are a sign of self-soothing. 

“Hey.” His is more measured, and of course makes you feel embarrassed in comparison. The door swings shut behind him as he enters the small room and makes it feel that much smaller. “Are you… hiding from me in here?”

Yes. 

The graffitied toilet stalls to your left suddenly look fascinating. 

“Nope. Just washing my hands.”

This is not what Derek told you to do, you scold yourself internally. Stop being so scared. Be honest with him. 

Silence rings. All the brutally honest things you’d like to say choke you until your throat hurts and your eyes get hot. Yet again you feel like a stupid little girl who’s too emotional to communicate. 

You cross your arms. It’s an indulgence you feel you’re owed. 

Spencer says your name again and it’s too much. He never says it this often. When he does it feels good but now it’s too formal, makes you too aware of your own inadequacy, and how he must be seeing you—a wraith of a girl in a dingy bar bathroom with clammy hands and smudged eyeliner, practically shaking with fear under an unforgiving light. Someone who is too scared and much too sensitive. 

Spencer attempts to speak again. 

“What I said before, it was—”

“Can you just take me home?” 

It comes out on one exhalation and seems to stall him with all the effectiveness of a slap to the face. 

You don’t know where it comes from, either. 

Easier said than done, you’d thought a few moments ago. All the bravery Derek had tried to instill in you is gone, swallowed down the drain like soap scum. And now you’re choosing to let your fear win—because at least that’s a known quantity. The fear will never reject you. It will always be waiting with open arms. 

Too scared. 

The end feels imminent. You try to press yourself back together, fingernails biting into palms, trying to make something feel more tangible than the terrible knowingness that you’re careening toward an end which was supposed to be a beginning. It’s stifling and you wonder if Spencer is breathing it too. 

You can’t look at his face, but you watch him pocket his hands in his pants and there is so much impossible space between you in such a tiny room. 

“Yeah. I can.”

Something breaks. It’s small, and without fanfare. But it feels final. 

It’s just a ride home. Just a ride home. 

That’s all you have left, and you don’t know how you know it but you do. 

Something so important is being left in this stupid, dingy bathroom. Something that was at one point beautiful and shiny and so arrogant in its newness that it seemed it would never become ugly. And now you’re abandoning it without dignity on the chipped tile floor and in the cobwebs on the walls. It was bigger than you, it was you—and now it’s going to be nothing. 

A vehicle honks on the street. A boisterous group laugh explodes somewhere beyond the door. Water drips from a faucet. 

“I’ll… I’ll bring my car around.”

“Okay.”

But he just stands there for another moment. Like he can’t get himself to move. 

If only time would freeze before he could walk away. 

But it doesn’t. 

He sucks in a decisive breath. 

“Okay,” he murmurs. 

It’s that fucking phone call all over again. 

Then he spins on his heels and leaves you there.

Your time is up. 

-

part 5.5

[sweetshuga]

The moon is pretty, isn’t it? ✧ CS

───~𓆩♡𓆪~───

bsf!chris! Could’ve, would’ve, should’ve—all the possibilities kept eating at you, until he showed up knocking on your window unannounced. [angst, smut, fluff, a sprinkle of everything]

wc. 1.1k

note. English is not my first language!

You and Chris had a falling-out.

You had accidentally laid your feelings bare during a harmless game of 'Truth or Dare'. The look on his face alone made you feel that twist in your gut, but what he said after his silence made your stomach feel like it was dropping down 10-stories.

"Are you fucking serious with me right now?" The almost mad sounding tone made your heart beat faster as you tried to backpedal, "no, Chris, that was–" he cut you off, standing up, looking pissed. "I’m going home, can’t fucking believe this shit," he stormed out before you could utter another word.

The front door slammed shut after him and you sat in silence for a while, your brain unable to comprehend what had just happened. When the realization finally dawned over you, you couldn’t help the tears from forming in your eyes nor the painful clump in your throat.

Not only did he reject you and get angry at you, he left as well. Was he that angry? Were your feelings such a bad thing? Questions swirled in your head like a broken record.

You didn’t know what to do, what to think or what to say. All you could do was sit there and cry, completely shocked with the turn of events. Some people may call you oversensitive or dramatic, but they don’t know how much it hurts—how much more painful it was than any physical injuries.

You curled up in bed, thinking about everything that you could’ve done differently, everything that would’ve been if you didn’t tell him about your stupid crush on him and everything that should’ve been – in your selfish fantasies.

𓆩♡𓆪

You had fallen asleep on your bed after crying. Feeling slightly better but your sleep was plagued by memories of his face, the way he reacted to your feelings and the words he spoke.

You were jolted awake by the sound of knocking, looking around in confusion as you sat up on your bed, only to see Chris looking at you through your window.

You nearly had a heart attack, staring back at him with wide eyes and your hand on your chest. After all, your room was on the second floor, how the fuck did he climb up?

You scurried to the window, opening it to let him in, all the previous hurt gone, replaced by pure bewilderment. His expression turned pained when he saw the dried tear streaks and red puffy eyes, "don’t look at me like that." You blinked, finally realising you’ve been staring at him with wide eyes and a gaped mouth, quickly closing your mouth as you schooled your expression.

"What was that?" Chris sighed, "what was what?" He questioned back, "how the fuck did you climb up? Better yet, why the fuck are you climbing in through the window?" He rubbed his temple, looking frustrated, "look, I knocked on your front door but you didn’t open it, just forget about me climbing in and let’s... let’s talk about—"

You cut him off with a stubborn "no" , he blinked, surprised at what he was hearing, "what?" He asked confused, making you repeat yourself, louder this time, "no." He looked at you bewildered, like he couldn’t believe he was hearing what he was hearing.

"Don’t be a brat," Chris inhaled deeply before continuing, "listen, I know I reacted a bit too dramatically and I’m sorry for that, but you have to understand how surprising it was for me," you scoffed at his words, eliciting a heavy sigh from him.

"Please, just..." His voice trailed off into another sigh, "I can’t... I mean, we shouldn’t," his voice was barely above a whisper, the uncertainty and vulnerability in his eyes caused your heart to race. "Why?" A simple question really, but the answer wasn’t so simple.

"Because..." His voice trailed off, knowing he doesn’t have a good excuse as to why they couldn’t, "because we’re friends." That made your expression harden, "right, of course Sherlock, I know." Chris groaned, "you’re not making this easier—" you cut him off, "and you’re being insensitive."

"Don’t be like that, i just..." he trailed off again, biting the side of his bottom lip nervously, he was fighting a losing battle between what he wanted and what was the better choice in his opinion. "Please..." you looked at him, "please what? What do you want me to do Chris? You know what, never mind—"

His eyes widened at your dismissive tone, realising he might lose you if he wasn’t honest, "no, no, I’ll— we’ll—fuck, let’s do it." He stammered, making you pause, "what?" He quickly added, "let’s date." You looked at him for a good minute, "what?" You asked dumbly, "let’s date," he repeated himself.

"Are you serious? You were just saying you won't and can't when i asked you just now," you raised your eyebrows, completely taken aback, to which he let out a quiet chuckle to. "I know, I just realised something, forget about it and come here," he pulled you closer, and you eagerly complied.

He hugged you tightly, "I realised I couldn’t fight it anymore, you’re too important to me, I can’t lose you no matter what," you let yourself melt in his embrace. "You serious?" You whispered into his chest, nuzzling into it, making him laugh softly. "Yeah, dead serious." You sighed, in relief and contentment.

Suddenly, he walked backwards with you still in his embrace and plopped on the bed, taking you down with him. "Hey–" he shut you up with a kiss, a soft chaste one, and you smiled into it, your heart feeling lighter and warmer.

As you deepened the kiss, his hands wandered over your body, inching down to squeeze your ass before smacking it gently. The sudden feeling made you squirm, causing you to grind on him, making him let out a small groan into the kiss.

You could feel the heat and hardness under you, the only barrier being your thin clothes, and the friction was almost too good to stop. Your hips rolled as you chased after that friction, only for Chris to hold your hips in place.

Groaning as you broke the kiss, "why?" you whined breathlessly, "I wanna feel you, can I?" He whispered, playing with the waistband of your sleep shorts. Nodding as you helped him take off your sleep shorts, followed by his sweatpants.

𓆩♡𓆪

Your world blurred as he fucked you senseless, you didn’t even remember how or when you got into the doggy style position. Your orgasm crashed over you for the nth time tonight, gasping as you tried to control your loud moans, your wrists were pinned on the small of your back by Chris as he pounded into you. "Fuck—so beautiful, ma."

As you two lay in each other’s embrace, content and relishing in the afterglow, you couldn’t help but make a comment about the full moon glowing brightly in the darkness of the night.

"The moon is pretty, isn’t it?" Chris chuckled softly, pulling you closer, nuzzling his face in your hair, "yeah, as pretty as my girl."

𓆩♡𓆪

wc. 1,183

Isa's notes. I know my fics always end with smut or something suggestive... I try to make it any other genre, i really do, but the voices— lmaoo I'm js fucking around, i just like me some smut 🎀

xoxo 𓆩♡𓆪

Masterlist 𓆩♡𓆪 Taglist

Taglist: @strnilolover @mattsfavoritestar @sophand4n4 @tpwktahlz @lilyyliloo @slut4angstt @pvssychicken @poolover123 @loud-sturniolos @inlovewchrissturniolo @queenshet @chrisstopherfilmed @billiesbabya

© sweetshuga

[arieslost]

home to you | op81

oscar piastri x fem!reader

summary: oscar does what he should’ve done a long time ago.

word count: 2,978

warnings: healing sunburn right at the beginning, a touch of angst

masterlist — join my tag list here!

this is a PART TWO! read part one here :)

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

Your sunburn is peeling.

Oscar’s been watching you absentmindedly pick at it for the last ten minutes as you recount your day to him. He’s paying attention to what you’re saying, of course, but now he’s worried that you might accidentally hurt yourself.

“Stop doing that,” he says when you pause to catch your breath, reaching for his phone as if he could put his hand through and stop you himself.

“What?” You frown, and then look at your shoulder. “Oh, right. It’s weirdly satisfying though.”

“This is why you can’t go to the beach by yourself.” Oscar sighs. “You never put on enough sunscreen.”

“I know,” you reply quietly.

As much as both of you have tried, neither of you can help the awkward undertones that seep into every silence you share now. Oscar knows you love him, and you know that he doesn’t feel the same way.

You think he doesn’t feel the same way.

When he saw that look on your face that morning in the kitchen, it reminded him of the way he stared at you on prom night. Oscar didn’t get asked to the senior prom, but you did, and you had turned the offer down. Oscar asked you why, and you told him that you only wanted to go with him, otherwise you weren’t going. You’d dragged him back and forth from your table to the dance floor all night long, and it all would’ve faded into the mush of fleeting high school memories if your favorite song hadn’t come on. Oscar remembers every detail of how your eyes lit up, how you cried, “I love this song!” even though he knew you did, and how you’d grabbed his hands and started dancing with a refreshed energy. He felt like time had stopped and his world revolved around you, and it felt right.

So yeah, he knew the moment you gave him that look that not only did he still love you, but you finally, finally felt the same way. And, for the second time, he’d epically fucked it up.

He often wishes that he could go back and confess to you like he wanted to that night. You’d stayed over because you were too tired to drive home. You were both single. It was the perfect time. But now it’s four years later and he’s sitting in the hotel bathroom on the other side of the world, his girlfriend asleep in the hotel bed, and you on the other end of his phone screen picking at your sunburn that he could’ve prevented had he spent more time with you on vacation.

“You doing okay, Osc?” You ask, pulling on a hoodie of his that you stole from him before he left for his very first F1 race. “Aside from the races, I mean. I know you’re doing great with those.”

“Yeah, I’m alright.” The words come out with practiced ease. “I’d rather hear about how you’re doing though.” I miss you like you wouldn’t believe.

“I think I’ve told you everything like five times now,” you giggle. “I could tell you about the guy that came up to me in the grocery store this afternoon and took a painstakingly long time to ask for my number, but that’s not a long story.”

Oscar’s heart stops. “What?” He replies, teeth gritted, before he clears his throat and lightens his tone. “I mean, what?”

“Yeah, it was kind of strange. He started the conversation by asking me how you were doing, obviously, because you’re so cool and famous-” Oscar flips you off when you roll your eyes, and you laugh. “Anyway, I guess that was his icebreaker, because then he just abruptly segued into grilling me right there in the cereal aisle about my life and how he ‘couldn’t believe he’d never seen me before.’” You recount dramatically. “I’m telling you, Osc, it was nonstop cheesy line after cheesy line. I felt so bad for him I let him have my number.”

“So, he used me as an in and then harassed you until you gave him your number?”

You nod slowly. “Pretty much.”

“You better not actually be considering going out with this guy.” Oscar scoffs.

“Oh, no, I’m not!” You rush to clarify, and he can see a faint blush rising on your cheeks. “I mean, it’s not like I’m waiting for anyone-anything. He was just weird. I only gave him my number so he’d leave me alone… I blocked him when he texted me.”

“You’re horrible,” he starts laughing now, relieved that this guy never even stood a chance. “I love it.”

“You’re supposed to be encouraging me to get out there and find a boyfriend, loser. Brush up on the best friend manual.” You complain, pulling the hood over your head and hiding your face from him so he can’t see how much it hurts to think about finding someone that isn’t him.

He doesn’t notice anyway; he’s distracted by the sound of the covers moving and his girlfriend yawning.

You hear it too, and glance up at the camera. “You have to go?”

His heart breaks at how sad you look. “Yeah, sounds like she’s actually waking up this time. Sorry, honey.”

You shrug, and he knows you’re trying to appear unbothered. “It’s okay. We got, what, an hour and a half? That’s a whole extra 45 minutes or so.”

“You’re allowed to tell me how you really feel, y’know.”

“Damn it, Oscar. You just see right through me. I don’t know why I even bother.” You sigh, covering your face with your hands.

“I don’t know why, either,” he attempts to joke. “Look, I-”

“Oscar? Where are you?” His girlfriend calls, and you stiffen up at the sound of her voice.

“Be there in a minute!” He responds, turning his attention back to you. “I’ll call you again as soon as possible, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Bye, honey.”

“Bye, Osc.”

You hang up first.

“I love you,” he whispers to his blank phone screen, and gets up to start his day.

You say it back to your own blank screen and go to sleep.

Oscar comes to the steadfast conclusion that he wants you and only you at his side at his home race, and not as a friend.

Breaking up with his girlfriend still looms over him. He lies awake for way too long at night trying to figure out the nicest way to do it, but his thoughts always end up taking a detour to you and how he wishes it was you sleeping next to him instead.

Despite the struggle going on in his mind, he goes through the motions of PDA with her for all the cameras and other drivers in the paddock to see. Lando is the only one who realizes what his issue is.

“Mate, you have to figure this out.” The older driver said out of the blue as they were lounging in McLaren hospitality after qualifying.

“Huh?” Oscar frowned at him, tearing his eyes away from his texts with you. “I know I fucked up that quali, but it’s not like I can’t improve.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, you muppet.” Lando rolled his eyes, and said your name like it’s obvious. “You just have to break up with the girl you’re with now so you can have the girl you really want.”

“You say that like it’s so simple.” Oscar mumbled, looking at the text from you that had just come in.

Just focus on the race, Osc. Quali’s behind you, it doesn’t matter anymore. I’ll be cheering you on, what could possibly go wrong??

“It is, if you think about it. Besides, you’ve been acting so weird lately she might already think something’s up.”

“Gee, thanks. That makes me feel a lot better.” Oscar groaned, sinking lower into his chair.

“Always here for you, mate.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“I don’t care.”

That enlightening conversation gets Oscar to finally work up the courage to tell his girlfriend those dreaded words following the race– “We need to talk.”

He waits until they’re in the hotel room after dinner to say it so there’s no audience, primarily because he knows that she’s prone to throwing fits when things don’t go her way. The memory of her losing her mind when he took you to breakfast during vacation comes screaming back to him at the speed of light.

She doesn’t say anything at first; instead, she takes her time removing her shoes and taking the pins out of her hair. Oscar can’t stand the silence, so he starts speaking again.

“It’s about-”

“I think I know what this is about.” She interrupts him.

“You do?”

“I’d have to be stupid not to know, Oscar. You’ve been off for the past few days, it’s only with me, and every time I wake up you’re hiding in the bathroom on the phone.” She holds up a hand when he opens his mouth. “I know it’s her, and I’ve known since that vacation. You don’t have to tell me.”

“You’re… you’re not gonna yell?” He can’t hide the surprise in his voice.

“It won’t get me anywhere, will it?”

“It never did.”

She smiles matter-of-factly. “I guess I have to work on that.”

She packs her things without argument. Oscar offers to buy her a plane ticket somewhere, but she waves him off and thanks him anyway before walking out the door.

The Australian Grand Prix is in two weeks. Oscar doesn’t think before he calls you.

“I’m coming home. I need to see you.”

Your heart has been in your throat ever since Oscar called you this morning. He was so hasty that he didn’t even tell you when he was coming, so every little movement you see outside your window has you running to see if it’s him or not.

He doesn’t show up until almost 9:30 at night. You can hear the engine of his car as he flies through your neighborhood with practiced ease and nearly drifts into your driveway. Your stomach is jumping with nerves and excitement; you didn’t think you’d see him for another two weeks, and despite the awkwardness that your feelings have brought to your friendship, you want nothing more than to hug your best friend.

He starts impatiently knocking on the door as you nearly trip down the stairwell in your rush to let him in.

“Hold on!” You shout, fingers shaking as you unlock the door and wrench it open. “Are you trying to break my door?”

“Jokes later, let me hold you,” he says, reaching for you and meeting you in the middle of the doorway as he pulls you into his chest for a tight embrace.

You melt into him immediately, your arms wrapped around his neck and your nose pressed to the warm skin that peeks out of his hoodie. “I can’t believe you’re here,” you mumble, squeezing him.

He shivers, kissing the top of your head. “I’m here, baby.”

I’m sorry, baby. You think about that so much that it shouldn’t hurt anymore. It sobers your mood a little.

“Why, though?” You ask, pulling away a little to look at him. “Don’t you have things to be doing?”

“I may have forced them to clear my schedule by coming home without telling anyone.”

“Oscar!” You exclaim. “Why? You could get in trouble!”

“Can we talk inside?”

“Yeah, of course. C’mon.” You take his hand and lead him into your house.

He takes off his shoes, leaves his suitcase in the hall, and goes to your living room on autopilot, where he flops down on the couch and lets out a long breath. You sit next to him, knees bumping together as you look at him with a reasonable amount of concern. “You’re acting weird. What’s wrong with you?”

“I broke up with her.” He says, rolling his head to the side so he’s looking at you. “So, nothing’s wrong with me.”

“Bullshit, Osc, it seemed to me like you really liked her.”

“You didn’t, though.”

“Who cares what I think?” Your brain fully computes his words. “Wait- actually, no. I’m not even going to act surprised by the fact that you knew that.” You sigh.

“I care what you think. I care about you. A lot.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I don’t think you do.” He sits up straighter now, turning his whole body to face you. “Like, in a romantic way.”

You blink at him a couple times. “No you don’t.”

“I don’t?” He repeats incredulously.

“You can’t. You don’t.” You say. “You’re lying.”

“I’m lying?” He says through a laugh. “You’ve known me your whole life. When have I ever lied to you?”

You press your lips together. The only time he’s ever lied to you is when he planned your surprise parties. “I’m gonna need you to do a really good job explaining yourself, otherwise I’m kicking you out. You can’t do this to me, Oscar, you know how I feel-”

“Yes, I do, and I’d love to explain if you’d stop spiraling for a second.” He interrupts, taking your hands to ground you.

You’re once again having the dilemma of wanting to push him away and pull him closer simultaneously. The pressure of his hands holding yours succeeds in calming you, so you allow it.

“The whole reason I knew how you felt in the first place is because of the way you looked at me in the kitchen. You didn’t notice, but I looked at you the exact same way at the prom.” He says, gauging your reaction by how your face contorts slightly as you try to remember the prom at all, aside from the fleeting memory of forcing him to slow dance with you. “That feeling like time stops? Like-”

“Like I got hit by a truck,” you recall, looking down as he runs his thumbs over your knuckles.

“Right.” He nods. “Look, the bottom line here is that I screwed up by not telling you then, and if I had, we would’ve been dating for years at this point and this conversation wouldn’t even be happening.”

You feel like you look like a fish out of water with how your jaw is opening and closing, searching for something to say in response. “Osc-”

“If this makes you change your mind, I get it.” He continues. “But the whole reason I came here is to tell you that I love you. I’m in love with you and I have been since we were 18.”

You go to muster up something to say in response when he says one more thing. “Oh, and I’m tired of only being able to see you through the phone. That’s the other reason.”

You can’t help it– that, paired with his polite cat smile, his flushed cheeks, and his confession has you dissolving into giggles. That quickly morphs into laughter that sends you leaning so far forward your head is practically in Oscar’s lap, but he doesn’t seem to mind because he’s laughing too.

“I hate you so much,” you gasp out, pushing yourself back up so you can look at him when you tell him the complete and total truth. “I’ve been in love with you since we were 14.”

“Shit, that means I have eight years to make up for, not four.”

“Sucks to suck.” You say, easily falling back into your age-old banter.

“You sound like Lando,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “And I was gonna ask if I could kiss you.”

“Ah, shoot. I ruined it.”

“Hmm, no. I’m gonna ask you anyway.” He shifts closer to you, brushing your hair out of your face with both hands. “Can I kiss you? Please?”

You start nodding before he even finishes asking, maybe too enthusiastically, but it’s Oscar. He knows you. He wants you. You don’t need to be embarrassed.

The press of his lips against yours is soft, gentle. You always thought that if you ever kissed Oscar it might be too weird, but the only thing you feel now is right.

It feels right to thread your fingers into his hair. It feels right to let him tug you closer, closer, closer, until you have no choice but to straddle him so you can be as close as he wants you. It feels right when his hands slip under your shirt and lightly run over the skin of your back, when his tongue meets yours, when you give his hair an experimental tug and he moans into your mouth.

The only thing wrong about it is that you have no choice but to break the kiss in order to breathe, but even then you don’t move far from each other, breaths mixing in the minimal space between you both.

“We could have been doing that for a long time,” Oscar sighs, throwing his head back against the couch.

“We have all the time in the world now that we stopped being idiots and confessed.” You point out.

“D’you think you can come to the race in a couple weeks? We can take it slow with this, no one needs to know… I just want you to be there.” He asks.

“Of course, Osc, are you kidding?” You run your hands over his shoulders and down to where his hands rest on your hips. “Though, if you win, I can’t promise no PDA or anything.”

“I’d expect nothing less from my girlfriend.” You can feel him tense up a little, like he’s expecting you to react negatively, but he relaxes immediately when your smile lights up your whole face and you kiss him again.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips.

“I love you,” you whisper back.

No one else needs to hear it just yet. You only need to tell each other.

note: i sincerely hope this made up for any tears i may have caused with the angst in the first part. this is the first time i’ve ever been inspired to write a part 2, and i think it’s because i desperately needed it to end happily. thank you so much for all the love on falling for you; i never expected it to get as much attention as it did!

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika !

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[niningtori]

for the hope of it all | part one

part two

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, choi soobin x you

summary: you've been in love with beomgyu since the first time you saw him, but he sees you as nothing more than a good friend and faithful wingwoman. when he asks you to help him catch another girl, who just so happens to be one of your closest friends, things get complicated.

genre: ANGST, melodrama, romance, smut (mdni)

warnings: super rushed to meet a deadline, not proofread, smut (mdni), beomgyu is a fucking asshole, manipulative!gyu, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering (vaginal), dirty talk, praise, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 7.2k

notes: whew... i couldn't just post a fic based on a song called AUGUST after august ends (even tho there's only a few minutes left where i am idccc) anyway this isn't the best thing in the world but i still ask that u all don't be mean to me <3 feedback is appreciated n loved as well :)

beomgyu really likes her — like, really— and who can blame him? you certainly can’t. chaewon is a lovely, lovely girl, so it should come as no surprise when beomgyu asks you to, in his words, help him bag her. you’re not one with a particularly strong character at the best of times, so when he practically begs you to convince one of your closest friends that he’s actually not the heartbreaking manwhore he definitely is, you can’t find it in yourself to say no.

it doesn't help that he has enough charisma to charm even the most indifferent target he sets his eyes on, it doesn't help that he's so handsome it makes everyone either want him or want to be him, and it most certainly doesn't help that you've been in love with the boy for the entire time that you've known him. him asking absolutely anything of you would result in you relenting, so when he asks for something as seemingly inconsequential as setting him up with a mutual friend, accepting it is a matter of course. does it hurt your heart to see him pining after someone else when you basically consider him as your soulmate? of course. but his happiness means more to you than your own. if she makes him happy, then so be it.

that's what you tell yourself, at least.

-

beomgyu doesn’t know that you love him — he can’t possibly know — or else he’d treat you differently, right? you don’t want that. you don’t want anything to change, at least not in the disastrous way you anticipate confessing your love to him would go, so you’ve kept your feelings close to your chest to keep him from suspecting anything. you think you’ve gotten pretty good at concealing your feelings. for example, you laugh when he tells you about his sexual escapades, and you don’t hesitate to give him advice on how to woo the girls who are wary of his lasciviousness. you only want to show him the good parts of you, carefully tucking any ugly seeds of jealousy or sadness away from his prying eyes.

the thing is, though, beomgyu is not stupid; and to your never-ending misery, you are not the greatest actress. he can see the crestfallen look on your face for the split second before you can contort your features into a smile. he can hear the tremble in your voice as you force out a laugh. with his godforsaken intuition, he can sense the hesitation in your movement when you playfully push him aside as he over-dramatically recounts his latest raunchy fuck. 

all of this has no discernible consequence, though. if anything, your feelings have been his faithful friend and ally when it comes to conspiring with you to land whatever girl piques his interest at the moment. you may not be a prospective partner, but you are a great wingwoman, he’ll give you that much. and that’s exactly what he needs when dealing with chaewon, who has proven to be a particularly tough nut to crack. he doesn’t usually go for people he would consider friends, if only because he doesn’t like dealing with the messy aftermath, but her refusal to look his way is just too entertaining. he has no earthly idea why this cat and mouse game intrigues him the way it does, but he’s hooked like none other, especially because her reasons for pulling away when she’s definitely as attracted to him as he is to her are unclear. maybe she just doesn’t want to seem easy? whatever it is, he likes it. he likes her.

-

“so what's the plan?” soobin asks. 

“what do you mean?” you blink as you turn towards him, effectively taken out of your daze. you've been staring at a new instagram picture of beomgyu for at least ten minutes now. there's not much going on in it — it's just a candid taehyun took of him — but you can't stop the yearning you feel in your heart as you wish you had been the one to take it, instead.

“i mean, what's your big plan to ‘help’ him this time?” there’s a trace of resentment in his tone as he puts air quotes around “help”. you know he thinks you're just wasting your time on a boy who will never feel the same way you do, but what can you do? you still love him.

“i’m… i’m just going to talk him up to chae, no big deal,” you say rather unconvincingly, because it is a big deal. it’s the biggest deal in the world to you.

“and what are you gonna say? ‘hey, i know you know beomgyu is garbage, but deep down, he’s actually not garbage even though, even deeper down, he really is?’” his words are sarcastic and, for lack of a better term, downright hateful. 

“he’s not garbage, binnie,” you chastise. “he’s actually really sweet once you get to know him.”

“sweet? sweet how, exactly?” he sneers. you just sigh and shake your head. beomgyu is a frequent point of contention in your friendship with soobin, but you don’t know how to overcome it. mostly, arguments surrounding him devolve into conversations like the one you’re having right now. 

“he puts on a tough act, but he’s not really like that on the inside,” you insist. “you just don’t know him like i do.”

“and thank god for that,” he snorts, and you frown. you can tell he feels guilty by the way his expression immediately softens. 

“hey, i’m sorry,” he says, tucking your hair behind your ear. “i just don’t like to see you hurting.”

“i’m not hurting,” you lie. “i’m totally fine. it’s just… i just want to see him happy.” you actually do mean that last part. beomgyu, though seemingly carefree, is actually a lot more insecure and sensitive than one might think. you know this because he’s shown you that side of him many, many times, which must mean that he trusts you like no one else. you are honored to be the one he feels comfortable with, and even if it never amounts to anything more than that, you’re thankful you get to see how he really is. 

“and you think being with a new girl every week will make him happy?” he softly asks, no edge to his voice, but his words hurt even more than they did before.

“it's different this time, binnie. i'm serious. i've never seen him like this before. i think he really likes her.” and the words almost kill you to say, but you mean them, anyway. 

“okay,” he relents. “just do what you want to do. i’ll be there for you no matter what.” 

“thank you,” you reply with a small smile, before putting your nose back into your phone and staring at beomgyu’s pictures again. you don’t catch it, but soobin sighs as he watches you. 

-

you’ve been trying really, really hard. usually, all you have to do is talk about good points about beomgyu, and women fall for it hook, line, and sinker. chaewon is not most women, though, and she makes that abundantly clear with the polite smiles and airy laughs she gives you when you try to bring up beomgyu. 

you don't get it. if you had beomgyu’s attention, you’d never let it go, so it makes no sense to you how someone could have it without taking the opportunity to seize it. if it were you, you’d seize it. if it were you, you'd tell him you’ve loved him since the first time you saw him. if it were you — well, it doesn't really matter, does it? because it isn't you. still, you can’t help but dream.

the sentiment that it will never be you becomes clearer and clearer as you watch beomgyu try to initiate conversation with chaewon at his very own house party you are currently attending. you watch from the sidelines as they sit uncomfortably close together, legs flush against one another, as beomgyu wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her in to whisper in her ear. you like to think you’re content with him being with her even if it means you’ll be without him, but it’s difficult to feel that way when you actually see it playing out before you. your heart feels like stone weighing heavily in your chest as she giggles at whatever he says, and you think that things might start looking up for him before her smile suddenly melts into a little frown. 

without warning, she pries his arm off of her and gives him a perfunctory smile before standing up and smoothing out her skirt. then, she grabs her drink from the coffee table and he's left alone. his previously delighted expression is now filled with irritation and disappointment. you're still staring at him, just trying to get a read on the situation as you're left reeling, and before you know it, he's looking up at you. you're a little embarrassed at being caught, but you realize you can play your intrigue off as objectively analyzing the situation in order to help him better. surely he’ll fall for that, right? every time you say something similar, he buys it with no further questions.

he makes eye contact with you then nods towards his room as a silent plea to talk to him in private. if someone were to ask you how you’re able to deduce all of that from one look alone, you’d probably say it’s because you know beomgyu like the back of your hand — and maybe you do, but it’s like a subconsciously trained reaction more than anything. just as you know what beomgyu will do next, he knows you’ll understand his seemingly innocuous gestures. 

you head up the stairs and beomgyu shuts his bedroom door behind you. you prepare to launch into your readymade explanation as to why you were rubbernecking earlier, but he speaks before you can say anything at all.

“why isn’t it working?” he huffs. “did you talk to her like i asked you to?”

“yes, of course i did!” you eagerly insist. you would never lie to beomgyu — well, not about this, at least. your secret feelings are another story. 

“then why does she keep rejecting me?” he huffs. you wish you could answer him. truly, you do. you scramble for the right words, but you sincerely can't wrap your head around her logic, or lack thereof. 

he’s still waiting for an answer, though, so you think back to the recent conversations you’ve had with soobin, and you realize there’s only one plausible conclusion. 

“she just doesn’t know you enough, beoms. if she knew how you really are and how much you like her, she wouldn't act this way; but honestly, she probably thinks you’re just messing with her,” you explain, and you hope beyond hope that he doesn’t take it the wrong way. you don’t want to hurt his feelings by suggesting that his (newly) former playboy ways could be ruining his chances with her.

beomgyu’s feelings, of course, are not hurt. in fact, he just feels more annoyed than anything else. it’s really fucking irritating how he can’t seem to get a read on her or her intentions. she likes him, he can definitely tell, so what’s the problem with him having a messy past? it’s clear that it doesn’t bother you. well, it does, but in a different way. you’d forgive his previous transgressions in a heartbeat if it meant that he’d look your way, so why can’t she be the same? but then, he supposes that comparing someone as lovesick as you are to a normal girl is a bit unfair. 

but why are you so lovesick? it’s obvious that he’s handsome and funny, so falling for him is only natural, but your devotion is on another level. not only that, but you’re devoted in spite of the fact that he clearly wants nothing to do with you. in all honesty, it’s almost like you love him even more when you see him chasing after somebody else... then suddenly, the solution is clear. he has to make her think he doesn’t want her; and the easiest way to do that is to pretend he’s interested in someone else. in the same vein, who better else to pretend with than one of chaewon’s closest friends? you’re absolutely perfect for the job.

beomgyu’s demeanor goes from irritated to self-satisfied, and it puzzles you to no end. maybe he figured out a way to show his true feelings for her? but then why is he looking at you with such intensity? he’s never looked at you this way in the many years that you’ve known him. wait, did he realize something?  please, god, don’t let that be the case. you really don’t think you can —

and your train of thought is stopped when beomgyu strides over to you and locks the door behind you. you look up at him with confusion in your eyes before you finally register what that intense gaze of his really is: predatory.

suddenly, his lips are on yours and you’re holding back a squeal. your eyes widen as he cups his big hands around your cheeks and pulls you in even closer. he tastes like alcohol, which is to be expected, but there's a certain uniqueness to his taste that you can't really put into words; and you’re able to taste it even more as his tongue enters your mouth. you groan at the action, and surprisingly, he does, too. 

you always assumed kissing beomgyu would make you feel like everything was finally right in the world, and it does — it really, sincerely does — but there’s also a certain spark you were not anticipating. something a lot more fiery, and it shoots straight to your core as your tongues tangle together lasciviously. beomgyu seems to know this, and he smirks into the kiss before trailing his warm mouth down your neck. you gasp at the sensation, which just makes him laugh. 

his hands have traveled from your cheeks to your chest, one staying there to grab at your tits while the other one carelessly finds its way up your skirt. 

“so wet,” he whispers in awe when he rubs his fingers against your soaked panties. “is this all because of me?” you feel your cheeks warm and you’re stammering out your next words.

“w-well, i —” 

“is this all because of me?” he repeats, and you give him a feeble nod before covering your face in shame.

“cute,” he snickers, and your previously warm cheeks are now scorching to the touch. 

he moves your panties to the side and rubs against your sensitive clit, which sends pulsations through your entire body, but that’s nothing in comparison to how you feel when he presses a finger into your dripping hole. 

“you’re so tight,” he whispers, lust clearly written all over his face at the prospect of being in your pussy relatively soon; but he wants to enjoy this, he wants to enjoy the way your face screws up as he presses his finger so deep, he’s hitting places previously untouched. he slowly pulls it out, grazing your most sensitive spot with ease before adding another digit in, making you almost groan from the stretch. you bite your lip to avoid making such a sound, but beomgyu pays your attempted discretion no mind as he starts to hammer his fingers into you at a brutal pace. 

it doesn’t take long for you to come undone around his skilled fingers, and once you’re done pulsating around him, he takes them out for a taste. 

“so good,” he remarks, and though your breathing is heavy and your eyes are hazy, you still have it in you to feel embarrassed. he takes your smaller hand in his and leads you to his messy bed, carelessly sweeping every loose item — a t-shirt here, an old cd there — off of it in one go. he lays you down and hungrily licks his lips once he strips you down until you’re fully unclothed. 

you’re feeling extremely small in this moment. you know beomgyu has had his pick of the litter when it comes to women, so you can’t help but wonder how you fare in comparison to the literal bombshells he’s been known to take home. mostly, though, you wonder how you compare to chaewon, as awful as that sounds. if you really think about it, there’s no comparison to be made, really. she’s her, and you’re you. what else is there to say, honestly? still, you’re comforted by the thought that you are the one underneath him right now, not her, and he does not seem disappointed in the slightest if the tent in his jeans means anything at all.

before you can think too much about it, he’s practically tearing his shirt off and you can’t help but stare. his torso is lean and a little paler than the rest of him, probably due to the lack of sun. objectively speaking, he’s no greek god or anything similar, but to you, he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. if he notices your awed reaction, he doesn’t say anything or really care, because he is simply too busy studying how perfect you seem to look under his dimmed lights. again, he is delighted at the prospect of being inside of you very soon.

he unzips his jeans and slides them, along with his boxers, off of his slim thighs and you can finally see him completely. his cock is a red so deep it’s nearly purple, with evidence of his lust leaking out of its flared tip. you’ve heard a lot about beomgyu’s physique from stories, his and his hookups’ alike, but nothing prepared you for the real thing. you’re not a virgin or anything, but you’re still unsure of how you’re meant to fit him inside of you. and you have no idea how you’re supposed to approach the subject. 

beomgyu does not seem to understand your internal battle, though, because he wastes no time in lining himself up with your entrance. before he pushes in, though, he drags his cock along your soaking wet seam just to coat himself in your slick. when he feels he can’t take any more of his own teasing, he begins to push in.

“j-jesus christ!” he exclaims as he tries to push his tip through your entrance. “are you a virgin or some shit?”

“nngh — n-no! i-i’m not. i’ve — mmh — i’ve had boyfriends before,” you say as best as you can while dealing with the feeling of him literally fucking you open. you’re worried he’s not enjoying himself in light of his outburst and his decidedly strained expression. 

“god, s-so tight,” he drawls. “feels so goddamn good.” he draws his hips back before pushing in again, further this time, and his words of praise seem to comfort you somehow, because he’s able to sheathe himself completely in you. 

he groans when he feels your gummy walls wildly contracting around him — unsure of what to do with the pleasurable intrusion and working tirelessly to simultaneously push him out and pull him in. you, on the other hand, feel nothing but full. you’re so full you ache, so after a few moments of adjusting, your watery eyes are filled with an insatiable sense of pleading. 

“you okay?” he asks, actually somewhat sweetly.

“y-yes — ah — i just feel w-weird,” you say. “feel so — fuck — full.” your seemingly innocent words drive him to the brink of insanity, so with reddened eyes, he grabs your hips so hard, you know he’ll leave marks in his wake, and without warning he begins drilling into you.

his thrusts are not calculated or intentional in any sense — they’re rough and fast and show his desperation. why he’s so desperate, he has no idea. beomgyu is sleazy even on a good day, so women come a dime a dozen, but he feels an unquenchable need he feels will only be satisfied if he continues to fuck you like a man gone mad. so he does.

your breasts bounce with every thrust and while he wants to grab one, his thirst only makes him want to go even deeper in you, so he employs his hands to manhandling you into a mating press. the new position has him going even deeper, and you can feel him hitting your cervix with each nasty snap of his hips. tears at the sheer feeling of being overwhelmed spring in your eyes and you have to clamp your hand over your lips to keep from crying out.

“let me hear you,” he pleads while gently moving your hand from your mouth and not-so-gently fucking you like a breeding whore, and he’s not sure if he’s saying it because he wants to make sure chaewon hears or just because he desperately wants to hear you for himself. 

“fuck!” you exclaim, tears flowing freely down your cheeks. “s-so big!”

“oh, sweetheart,” he rambles, “who were you fucking before? they didn’t deserve this tight little pussy. they didn’t fuck you like you deserve to be fucked — like a good little whore.” 

“‘m n-not a whore,” you tearily insist, somehow convinced that he means his words. you’re not completely inexperienced, but you’re not a whore, right?

but your innocence only makes him wanna ruin you more, claim you completely. 

“you’re taking cock so well, but you wanna tell me you’re not a whore?” he snickers meanly, and you feel so delirious, you find yourself agreeing with what he says. 

the lewd sounds of skin meeting skin and the sharp knocking of the headboard fill the room, and the heat you feel building up inside of you has you seeing stars. beomgyu pulls you in for a sloppy, wet kiss as he finally lets one of your legs down in order to snake his hand against your clit, which he languidly rolls in the midst of his pistoning in and out of you. 

“are you gonna come for me?” he asks as his lips part from yours. “are you gonna come all over my cock?” 

“y-yes, please,” you sob. “wanna come!”

“then do it, baby. let go for me,” and with the way he’s rolling your clit while fucking into you, you can’t help but comply.

he hisses when he feels you contracting around him, tightening up even more than before and pulling him in impossibly deeper. that’s all it takes, really, before he comes undone himself and sprays his thick, hot load into your spasming pussy. 

he collapses on top of you, and both of you take a few moments just to catch your breath before he pulls out of you with a wince. he’s absolutely enthralled by the way the mix of both of you two’s cum leaks out of you as soon as he does so. he’s almost tempted to swirl it back in and plug you up, but his rational side stops him before he can do anything he’ll regret. 

“are you on the pill?” he asks, and you nod.

“good, go ahead and get a plan b, too. just in case,” he says with a quick kiss to your forehead, and you nod with a delirious smile even in spite of his pedantic words. you’re just so happy you got to sleep with him, be closer to him.

“oh, i almost forgot to actually tell you,” he laughs. “i think fucking you will make chaewon jealous. i think we put on a pretty good show tonight, don’t you?” 

and your heart and your hope and your dignity shatter like nothing else. 

“y-yeah,” you try to reply with a laugh, but it sounds more forced than anything else you’ve ever heard in your life. “it was a really good show.”

-

“you slept with him?!” soobin asks, and he seems beyond frustrated. if you had the guts to look him in his eyes, though, you’d notice just how much hurt is in them. 

“y-yeah…” you mumble, face downcast.

“why? why would you do that? you’re just going to be even more hurt!” he exclaims, and you shrink into yourself even more, not out of fear, but out of pure shame. 

“i don’t know! it all just happened so fast, a-and i, i don’t know, i just couldn’t stop myself,” is all you manage to say. soobin groans at your words. 

“you do realize that getting over him is going to be even harder for you now, right?” he asks, and you finally look up at him for a second before looking back down and nodding, and it’s almost like you’re a child who got caught doing something they knew was wrong.

“i know, and i’m sorry,” you mutter, still struggling to make eye contact, but soobin catches your timidity and his gaze is softened as he pulls your face up to look at him. 

“you don’t have to apologize to me,” he sighs. “i’m just worried about you, you know?” 

“i know, i know. but i’m still really sorry.” and you don’t have to elaborate on why that is because you both know that he’ll be the one helping you pick up the pieces when this situation inevitably breaks your heart even more than it’s already broken, if that’s even possible.

“it’s alright,” he says, pulling you in for a hug that’s so warm and kind you almost burst into tears. “you’ll be alright. i’m here.” 

-

this is a bad idea. soobin would yell at you if you told him what you’re up to, but you don’t want to think about that right now. all you want to think about is how much better you’ll feel after you get your secret feelings off of your chest. up until now, the fear of rejection has made you too afraid to tell beomgyu how you really feel, but things can’t get much worse than they are at present, can they? it’s only been a few days since your hookup with beomgyu, but your love is eating you alive and you doubt that you’ll be able to hold it in for much longer.

things will probably go badly, and he’ll probably be completely blindsided, but the thought of continuing to lie to beomgyu’s face hurts more than anything else ever could. even more than the pain you feel every day that he unconsciously hurts your feelings. maybe this will ruin your friendship, but you love beomgyu, and he loves you, even if it’s not in the way that you want. all you can do is hope that your friendship is strong enough to overcome this.

with that mindset, you find yourself at his doorstep on this particularly cool summer night. you know he’s home because you can hear the faint sounds of whatever movie he’s watching emanating from his door. before you can lose your nerve, you begin to rapidly knock. before long, you hear the shuffling of feet nearing you, and you almost bolt then and there, but he’s quick to open the door when he realizes it’s just you.

“what are you doing here?” he asks, agitation apparent. oh god, were you interrupting something? what if he was working? what if he was sleeping? you should've texted before just showing up unannounced. 

“i-i’m sorry, are you busy?” you ask sheepishly.

“... no,” he says after a slight pause, and he opens the door to let you in. you sit yourself on his couch, posture ramrod straight due to how fucking uncomfortable you are, and you try to steady your breathing as you fiddle with your fingers. 

“is this about chaewon?” he asks, breaking the silence, and your heart aches at the trace of hope in his words.

“n-no, nothing like that. i just —”

“is there any update on that?” he cuts in before you can even get your words out.

“oh, um, not really,” you reply before remembering that something has happened, but you’ve been so out of it, it genuinely didn't occur to you to tell him. “wait, actually, she mentioned that you seem different lately, but she, uh, she’s still… well, to be honest, she’s —” 

“what? she’s still what?” and there’s no patience for your rambling to be seen.

“she’s still not interested in dating you,” you mumble, unable to look him in the eyes when you say it. he’s completely silent after your words, and when you do finally gather enough guts to actually look at him, you really, really wish you had just kept your face down. because he’s pissed. 

“are you fucking with me? she really said that?” he asks, and you nod. 

“why didn’t you tell me earlier?!” and you feel so disoriented at the way things are unfolding that you can barely croak out a reply.

“i-i forgot.” 

“you forgot? jesus christ, if it’s not about her, then why are you here?” he seems angrier than you’ve ever seen him, but his words get you to finally remember what you’re here for.

“i just… i needed to talk to you,” you say pleadingly, looking into his eyes as you try your hardest to give yourself the strength to be honest with him.

“about?” 

it takes all of the courage in your poor little heart to choke out your next words. 

“beomgyu, you know, for the longest time, i’ve —”

“i know,” he impatiently snaps. you’re unsure of what he’s referencing, but you do know he has no idea about the feelings you’ve kept hidden for so long. 

“no. no, you don’t know, actually,” you argue, brave face on, but voice shakier than a leaf. “i just need to tell you that i —”

“that you love me? i know, that’s what i just fucking said,” he sighs irritatedly. “why else would you help me? ‘cause you love me so much, right?” he knows it’s wrong to take his frustration out on you, but you’re so pathetic, you make it too damn easy. you’re the perfect outlet for him to unleash all of his anger.

“you… you knew? this entire time?” you ask incredulously. you feel like you’re suffocating in the face of his callousness and disgust, and the room feels smaller than it did before.

“i mean, yeah. it was kind of obvious,” he muses. your cheeks feel so hot you’re sure you’re on the brink of immolation. it was obvious? if it was obvious, then why did he keep you around in the first place? because you’re useful when it comes to helping him get his dick wet?

“so… so why did you…” you trail off, still finding it inconceivable that the beomgyu you know and love could possibly know about your feelings; and not only are they unreciprocated by him, which you could understand and respect, but they’re nothing more than a fucking joke and means to an end. the end in question being burying himself into other women.

“why did i act like i didn’t know? because i don't feel the same way,” he answers, and you already knew it and knew it well, but that doesn't make it any more digestible to hear.

“y-yeah, but you — how could you still sleep with me? how could you do that to me?” you ask, lips wobbling and voice cracking. you can't believe this. you won't believe this. you have to be misunderstanding something somewhere. there's just no way this is it.

“because it was easy,” he says with a shrug, and your heart shatters into a million pieces. 

because it was easy. 

easy. what a funny word. you don’t think you even fully comprehend what it means in this context, actually. easy, easy, easy, but what part of this has been easy for you? every day, it’s like you’re killing yourself by trying to twist into what he wants you to be. a friend, a confidant, and now, even a lover. but lover is being too generous, isn't it? because he does not love you, not even as a friend, and this discovery becomes clearer and clearer as you think back to every time he’s shown you just how little he cares.

soobin’s litany of warnings come back to haunt you with a vengeance. 

he’s just using you. 

he’s garbage.

he’s just gonna hurt you.

and though you know soobin will take no pleasure in being correct, you can't help but dread the “i told you so” you know he will never be mean enough to say, but will inevitably think.

“i thought we were friends,” you say incredulously, dread and anxiety pooling in the deepest recesses of your heart. “i thought you cared about me” 

and he doesn’t shrug or anything because he doesn’t really need to, but he might as well seeing as how it clearly makes no difference to him. and this is finally how you come to understand that beomgyu is just as bad as everyone says. maybe even a little worse. and he will continue to act like a sociopath for as long as you let him. 

“i-i love you, i really do. but no fucking way. i won’t sit here and let you treat me like shit,” you declare, tears flowing down your cheeks so quickly and steadily you’d probably be unable to wipe them away even if you tried. luckily or unluckily, you don’t even have the strength to find out. 

“you’re going to regret this,” you whisper, and it’s said with such certainty that for a moment, he almost believes you. almost, but not quite.

either way, you’re booking it out of his door before he can even reply.

-

this is everything beomgyu ever could’ve asked for. chaewon is sitting next to him on his bed, eyes dark with lust as she unceremoniously grabs the end of her top and tugs it off. she's beautiful, no doubt about that, but he feels more and more like something is incredibly wrong. 

she leans in to press her lips onto his, but he flinches, scooting almost imperceptibly further away from her on the bed. she falters for a moment before sighing and crawling on all fours to situate herself between his legs. she begins to unzip his pants and tug on his waistband before he frantically stops her.

“w-what are you doing?” he asks, voice shaking.

“blowing you, what does it look like i’m doing?” she replies with a roll of her eyes. “i just wish i had known you wouldn’t be into kissing or, like, actual foreplay, but whatever.” she continues her movement to pull his pants down before he stops her again. 

“what’s wrong?” she asks curiously, before finally realizing that he is, to what would normally be his eternal shame, completely soft. her mouth drops in shock, and in another universe, beomgyu has enough energy to care. but not in this one. in this one, his eyes are teary as he feels an implacable sense of dread he can’t seem to shake off. 

“oh god,” she says with conviction, pulling herself back up and running one hand through her hair. “i knew this would happen.” 

beomgyu, on his part, looks somewhat out of it, but her words bring him back to earth. 

“knew what would happen?” he asks tentatively, sniffling for reasons unknown to him while he tries not to let his tears run over his waterlines.

“i knew you’d act like this because of her,” she says begrudgingly. 

his eyebrows furrow for a second, not because he doesn’t already know who she’s talking about, but because he doesn’t understand the correlation between you and the situation he presently finds himself in.

“think about it,” she says slowly, condescendingly. “who do you trust, like, actually? and i’m not just talking about with getting girls, but with everything.” beomgyu is silent as he tries to comprehend what she's saying, but he’s nothing if not slow on the uptake in regards to human emotion. 

“oh, beomgyu, come the fuck on,” she sighs in frustration. “i mean, when you were stressed about that presentation for your job, who did you call? yunjin told me all about it. she said you spent hours reciting a 15 minute presentation to the girl you supposedly don’t give a fuck about.” ah. he remembers that night, actually, and he remembers it well. he called you in a panic, so you brought over some dinner because you knew he was stressed, but he was so wound up that you didn’t leave and even insisted that he practice with you in order to give him feedback. he spent the whole night repeating the same speech over and over again, but you sat patiently and encouragingly as he repeated the boring, inconsequential drivel to you. you never complained, not even once, and you didn’t ask him for any compensation in the form of him doing something — anything — similar for you, either. even if you had, he realizes, he wouldn't have given any to you, anyway.

“that’s…” 

“and that’s not even all of it. who’s the first one you look for when you walk into a room? and when something good happens, who do you tell first? not anybody else, and i know for a fact that it’s not me, never will be,” she says bitterly. every new point slashes at his heart and ego.

and suddenly, things start making sense, albeit in the worst possible way. beomgyu loves you. his trust and dependence on you all make an awful sort of sense, but in a way, it’s relieving to finally be able to put a name to this feeling. his eyes still feel hot, but not so much because something feels wrong, but because things finally feel right for the first time in forever. he loves you, has loved you, and will continue to love you.

her words resonate with him so deeply, she can read it all over his face. it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he finally understands, but he’s still missing an important fact. the most important fact, even. 

“yeah, i guess you finally get it now. you have feelings for her. and the worst thing is: you treat her like shit.” his eyes widen and the tears that were just threatening to escape are completely let loose. how could he only come to this realization after he already effectively stomped on your heart and your pure intentions? after you’ve made it clear that you don’t want anything to do with him anymore? and he has nobody but himself to blame, really; he practically shoved you away over and over and over again. 

“i-i didn’t mean to —” 

“sure, of course you didn’t,” she says with a sarcastic smile. “whatever makes you feel better for fucking over the girl who’s been in love with you for years.”

-

beomgyu may not know much about the inner workings of interpersonal relationships, but he does know he needs to see you, and he’s smart enough to understand that he needs to apologize. 

but beomgyu has never apologized for anything in his life — not unless you count the times his mother made him grit them out as a child when he would objectively do something wrong, but this is another matter entirely. nobody will be holding his hand as he does it, and he’s not even really sure where to start. but he knows he has to try.

surely there’s a better place to try than at the bar where he currently finds himself, but then, there’s no time like the present. not to mention that he has a sneaking suspicion that you're avoiding all of your mutual friends’ get-togethers for the sole purpose of avoiding him. if the blocking of all of his socials wasn’t enough, the blocking of his phone number certainly was.

it’s not necessarily fate’s fault that he finds himself here, either. he heard from a friend (chaewon) that you’d be here tonight. he sees you from across the bar looking lively and chatty, and he prays that the good mood you seem to be in will help soften the upcoming conversation with him. to his luck, you step out of the bar to take a call, so he slides from his seat with an open beer bottle in tow, and follows you outside. 

your back is turned, and he doesn’t quite hear what you’re talking about over the phone, but he does catch a giggle and a name, soobin’s, and it makes his heart ache. when you hang up, you turn to head back into the bar, but you’re met with his figure. 

“h-hey,” he says, and he wants to smack himself for the casual greeting he still managed to fuck up.

your eyes widen for a moment before they go blank, and you’re pushing past him without a response. 

“i need to talk to you,” he says, voice trembling as he grabs the back of your elbow, which you snatch out of his grip like his touch is poison. 

“about?” you ask curtly, barely even deigning to turn your head to look at him. you have never been so hostile towards anyone, let alone him, and it's making him spiral. 

“i’m sorry. i’m just really, really sorry,” he desperately apologizes. you’re silent for a few moments as you turn to completely face him with your arms crossed, and he’s trying his damndest to read your expression, but he can’t quite make it out.

“okay… and?” is all you say in response, and he fumbles over his words at your nonchalance. 

“a-and, um, i —”

“you know what?” you cut in with an impatient sigh and a wave of your hand. “i don’t care anymore. you’ve said enough.”

“but i —” 

“i don’t care, beomgyu.” and his name is said in such disgust that it sounds to him like it’s a chore for you to spit out. you’re about to turn and reenter the bar when his next words come tumbling out. 

“i think — i know —  i love you,” he says urgently, and your previously unreadable gaze turns into one of pure, sheer amusement. you’re so amused, you laugh, even. 

“what the fuck are you talking about?” you say between giggles.

“i-i didn’t realize it before, but i talked to chaewon, and she even said that i’ve probably always felt that way about you. i know i didn’t show it, but i really do love —”

“okay, just stop. stop it right there, beomgyu. i’m only going to say it just this once, so listen carefully, okay?” you ask, and he fervently nods. 

“okay. you don't know the first thing about love.” and he goes to interrupt you, but you don’t let him. “loving somebody means you put their feelings above your own. what the hell would you know about that?” 

“i’m… i know i was wrong, b-but i —” 

“beomgyu,” you say exasperatedly. “i’m so glad you’re finally reaching enlightenment, and i’m so happy i was cannon fodder for you to use to get there. but i just really, really don’t care anymore, okay? do what you want with whoever you want, but don’t bother me about it anymore, alright?” and he’s so stunned he can’t even form words, but you just shake your head and prepare to leave again. unconsciously, he goes to grab you again, which you consequently dodge, and he thinks this is the most rejected he’s ever felt before realizing it’s not over yet. it’s only truly over when you grab his bottle from him and splash its contents across his face before throwing the bottle back into his arms and leaving for good.

notes pt. 2: yeah... idk when part two will be out but stay tuned! also, if you all want a soobin ending let me know and i might... MIGHT do it ;_;

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series taglist: @denleave1088 @calssunflower @wildernessuntothemselves @pluslandminun @enhasrii

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[vivwritesfics]

Really love your works!! Hoping I could ask for a Carlos Sainz smut to angst. You are Charles’s little sister (of age of course) and he catches you having sex with his teammate. He becomes angry, warns Carlos off, he does as he’s told as he doesn’t want to lose Charles friendship, Carlos tells you that you can’t see each other anymore but in a really harsh way, you are heartbroken and angry at both.

Lightest of light smut like not even really smut but you're still getting a warning

It was just fooling around. No feelings, nothing real between them. Just two attractive people finding a break from their loneliness within each other.

It wasn't that deep.

Except, Charles didn't see it that way. (Neither did Arthur or Lorenzo, but they weren't there to catch them in the act, so their distress doesn't count). He saw his little sister beneath his teammate and he saw red. And not just because they were in the Ferrari Garage.

"Cha!" She cried, legs still wrapped around Carlos's naked waist. "Holy shit, get out!"

Charles didn't need to be told twice. He backed out of the drivers room and pulled the door shut behind him. The heel of his hands pressed against his eyes. "What the fuck!" He shouted, voice only slightly muffled by his sleeves.

Unwrapping her legs from around Carlos, she looked at him. "Shit," she hissed as she climbed out from beneath him and grabbed her shirt from the floor. "Shit, fuck, shit."

Before she could run out of the room, Carlos grabbed her hand. She stopped and turned towards him, fingers reaching out to brush through his hair. Kissing his head, she stood straight and walked out of the room.

Charles was out there, his expression furious. She'd only seen him like this once before, when she and Arthur had hidden his phone and broken it. "Charles," she tried, but he shook his head.

"Don't," he said. Charles grabbed her arm and pulled her behind him. "Just go back to the fucking hotel."

"No, Cha," she began, but it was too late.

Charles pushed open the door to the drivers room and strode in. "Carlos!" He bellowed, ignoring as she grabbed his arm. "You're sleeping with my baby sister?"

Carlos let out a breath. He looked past him, looked at her. At the slight terror on her face. He steadied himself before he looked in Charles's eyes. "She's a grown woman," he said, and her face fell further.

Suddenly, Charles pushed him. "She's my little sister!" He shouted. "She's my sister and you took advantage of that!"

Carlos didn't react. He stood still, unwilling to fight his teammate. But she was grabbing her brother and trying to pull him away. "Charles, stop it!" She shouted. "Leave him alone!"

When Charles's fist connected with his face, Carlos fell back. "Shit," he hissed, holding his nose.

"Stay the fuck away from her," he spat and turned on his heel, marching out of the drivers room.

Leaving her with him.

Cautiously, she approached. Almost like he was a frightened animal. "Carlos?" She asked quietly, but he shook his head, still pinching his nose.

"He's right," Carlos said. She didn't mean to frown. "I took advantage of my teammates little sister."

A scoff left her lips. "No, you didn't."

His stare bore into her own. "Yes, I did."

"Carlos-"

"I did! I took advantage of you and I shouldn't have!" He insisted and wiped at the red dripping from his nose. "I should have broken this off months ago," he spat.

She sucked in a sharp breath. "You're being dramatic," she mumbled as she turned to grab a tissue. "Charles is going to calm down eventually."

And, suddenly, Carlos was standing up straight. He strode past her and pulled open the door to the drivers room. "I think you should leave," he said and gestured for her to do so.

"Carlos-"

"Go!" He shouted. "I don't want to be with you anymore! I don't want to fuck you! Hell, I don't even want to see you!" He screamed, spit flying into her face.

A sob left her lips, hand immediately coming to cover her mouth. "Okay," she said quietly, blinking back tears. "Have it your way."

[subcultureblues]

Burnin’ Down The House

Steve finally psyches himself up to ask Eddie out, because really, what’s the worst that could happen? He makes sure everything’s perfect, goes to shoot his shot annnnnnnnd - Eddie’s fucking pissed.

My Secret Santa gift for the lovely @sunflowerharrington for the @steddieexchange (thank you so much to @paradimeshifts7 for the beta!) Sunflower’s fave tropes are : Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Miscommunication, Accidental Love Confessions

So buckle in boys…

———

They’ve been dancing around this for long enough.

It had been three months. Three maddening, excruciating, unbearable months of Steve and Eddie circling each other in this ridiculous, elaborate mating ritual. He had been kind of really hoping Eddie would make the first move; Steve’s new to this, he doesn’t know the protocol!

…But clearly that wasn’t happening.

Three months of smolderingly flirtatious banter, two very revealing conversations with Robin, and one only slightly over-dramatic gay crisis later - and Steve had officially had enough.

“Stop fussing. It’s gonna go great.”

“And if I crash and burn?”

“Which you won’t.”

“Which I won’t,” Steve echoed reluctantly, because by this point Robin had him trained like a prize-winning show pig. “But even if I’m fucking - casanova in cable-knit, if he’s just - not interested, and… he turns me down - “

“Which he won’t.”

“We don’t even know if he -“ Steve snapped. He ran a hand down his face, groaning in awful, self-inflicted agony. “I’m just trying to prepare myself, mentally, for the possibility of failure here. I mean what if - we don’t even know if he’s into guys, Robin.”

Robin snorted.

“Ok fine, and if he is? Doesn’t mean he’s gonna go for… “ Steve looked in the mirror again, still trying to get his hair to fall right. He squinted with an edgy huff.

“Steve,” Robin said in her most long-suffering tone of voice. She smacked her palms against both of his cheeks and squished. “He likes you.”

“Yeaf?” he said, muffled by the contortion of his face and his lips.

Robin nodded solemnly. She opened the car door and stepped one foot onto the driveway of her house.

“We’ve both seen the way he looks at you.” And the thing is, Steve had. When he thought he was being slick. The way his eyes settle on Steve, warm and unhurried. Like he was trying to take it all in. “Frankly the whole starcrossed longing thing - it’s getting old. And on my nerves. Just put that poor, pathetic man out of his misery and kiss him already,” she pleaded.

“Alright! I get it.”

“And I mean, seriously Steve. Honestly. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“No. You’re right.” Steve nodded, gesturing at her. “You’re right.”

Because yeah, she probably was right — which God, Steve hated when she did that...

“I’ll call you when I get home, ok?”

“Can’t wait to hear all about how you two lovestruck idiots finally get it together.” The corner of her mouth twitched and she reached down to reassuringly squeeze his hand on the steering wheel. It helped. A lot, actually.

Robin stepped out, closing the door behind her, then immediately shoved her head back through the open window. Steve opened his mouth to ask what she forgot this time.

“Do not forget to use protection.” She ordered, sounding distinctly like his mother. He took offense, raising his hands with an indignant look.

“I already told you - “

“Yeah, yeah. Your whole master of seduction plan to sweep the Freak off his feet.” She snickered.

“Romance him. Epically,” Steve corrected her. “My plan to epically romance him.”

“You’re not fooling anyone Slut Harrington.” Steve rolled his eyes. Robin grinned at him. It managed to calm his nerves enough that he could honestly smile back. “Call me, okay? As soon as you get home. I get to be first to hear the good news.”

“I will.” She started towards the front door. “Oh, and Robin?”

She turned back to him.

“How’s my hair?”

She hung her head in defeat.

“Jesus Christ…”

He pulled up to the Munson’s trailer just after sunset and honked when he parked outside. After maybe a minute, Eddie came sprinting out of the trailer, throwing open the passenger side door and launching himself into the Beemer.

“Go, go, go! The cops are right on our tail!”

“Think we can outrun ‘em?” Steve smiled, very slowly putting the car into reverse to back up and turn around.

“Obviously no. That’s why we have a getaway car, Steve. Keep up.”

“Uh-huh. Alright, outlaw. You got the stuff?”

“Made out like a bandit.” Eddie bounced his eyebrows, swinging an 8 pack of beer from his fingers.

“Eugh. Samuel Adams?” Steve made a face.

“You pay, you pick.” Eddie shrugged unapologetically.

“Fine. I got ice in the cooler back there.” Steve swiveled and braced his hand on the headrest of the passenger seat… and Eddie looked at him. In that way that he does; in subdued glances, furvative, just out of the corner of his eye. In the way that made hope light up like a sparkler in Steve’s chest. He leaned just a little deeper into Eddie’s space, eyes on the road behind them as he reversed the car, trying not to give himself away by grinning too much.

They had planned to head down to the quarry. It was nice, scenic. Perfect for this kind of thing. Steve knew about this one spot, a picnic table that overlooked the water. Real premium makeout real estate.

Honestly, Eddie was kind of ruining the ambiance Steve was trying to set here. He’d left one of his tapes playing from out of the car's open windows. Not loud, but still. They sat together next to the parked car, looking out at the black glass water below. Perched atop the table with their feet on the bench, sipping disgustingly cheap, but cold at least, beer.

If Steve blocks out the distant heavy metal screaming, it could pass pretty convincingly for romantic. The sky had cooperated with him, not a cloud in sight. Just an endless, timeless sea of stars. The moon was waning but bright enough they could see in the dark. But also not so bright it washed out the impression of the Milky Way above them. Still summer - which meant it was brisk but not chilly.

Perfect. Or - at least as close to perfect as Steve could really hope for.

“Ghosts?” Steve was saying, smiling and shaking his head. “Seriously?”

“What - so you’ll buy evil interdimensional wizards and - and demon bats from hell but you draw the line at ghosts?”

“Well, yeah. Difference there - is that I’ve never seen a ghost before,” he said, gesturing with his beer.

“So? That doesn’t mean there aren’t any!” Eddie was talking with his whole body again.

“Sure - maybe. But it does mean I don’t have to think about it,” Steve said, and Eddie threw his head back laughing.

Eddie took another long swing and they settled down, a comfortable quiet setting in. Steve glanced over at Eddie over the rim of his beer. Eddie was looking off into the distance, smiling. It felt… The timing felt right.

Steve set down his can carefully and took a deep breath (he’d popped a mint when they got here, and could only hope it would break through the bitter beer smell). He wiped his hands on his jeans so they for sure wouldn’t be clammy.

He braced a hand on the table behind Eddie’s back. Leaned into his space. Eddie went still, turning his head and blinking at him apprehensively.

“So…” Steve over-enunciated, and Eddie’s eyes immediately flickered down to his lips. It was brief, but Steve clocked it.

Steve smiled, made sure to let Eddie know that yeah, he saw that.

Oh, Steve’s so had this in the bag. He was great at this.

Steve unholstered ol’ reliable - his brightest, most charming smile. The one that always got girls blushing and tucking their hair behind their ears. He could really only hope it’d have the same devastating impact on Eddie.

“Keep looking at me like that Munson - I’m gonna start thinking something crazy.”

“What?”

“That maybe you like what you see….That you’re interested…” Eddie was quiet, studying his face very seriously. Three things for which he’d never been particularly known for. Or particularly good at for that matter. It was kind of intense. Steve slanted his eyes slightly down and to the side, not wanting to be thrown off his game.

Focus, Harrington. You got this. You got this because you’re super cool and smooth and good at this.

“So - come on, what do you say you and me just cut to the chase and go out already?” He said, light and playful.

He glanced back up at Eddie through his lashes and actually, physically, flinched when he saw his expression.

The look in his eyes was ice cold.

“Hey, fuck you, man,” Eddie said, putting a hand on Steve’s chest and shoving him right back out of his personal space. Steve tipped over onto the tabletop. He landed on his opposite hip, catching himself with his elbow. It took a second or two to process as he slowly sat back up.

Eddie’s cheeks flushed red with anger, the upset in his eyes. The way he had already turned his head away, like he didn't want to have to even look at Steve right now. How tense his posture was, sitting there leaning his elbows on his knees. Tapping his sneaker restlessly against the bench.

It left Steve floundering for a good few seconds.

“Yeah. You’re real funny, Harrington, you know that?” Eddie said, as quiet as he was tense.

“I -” Eddie looked over at him expectantly, mouth in an uncomfortably twisted-up frown. Looking like all he wanted in the world right then was for Steve to apologize or laugh it off. Or, more likely, to just fucking drop it. And Steve still hadn’t said anything.

Because to be honest, Steve was having a hard time believing it. Sure, he had been nervous. But like, - not that nervous.

He probably wouldn’t’ve had the nerve to put it all on the line if he wasn’t pretty damn sure the feeling was mutual.

It was just… The way Eddie always tried to rile him up. Make him laugh. Pull his pigtails. Like he couldn’t get enough of Steve’s attention. How he’d go way out of his way for Steve only to go all nonchalant and pink, play it cool when Steve tried to thank him for it. Like it wasn’t a big deal. Even those times when it was. And then there was always that distinctive tension. That undeniable charge.

Look. Steve Harrington knows flirting. Knows it when he sees it. And he had seen it floating on the periphery of almost every conversation they’ve had all the way back to when the Vecna fiasco started.

This whole fucking ordeal was brought about in the first place because twice (twice!) Steve had caught Eddie fixating on — gazing at — his naked chest.

“What?” Steve smiled weakly. “You can’t - you’re seriously telling me I just imagined all that…? That it was all just totally-“ his hands fluttered of their own volition, “in my head…”

Wrong thing to say. Somehow the worst thing to say, judging by Eddie’s reaction.

Eddie pushed off the table to stand, shoulders inflating as he took a large inhale and held it before letting it out slowly. It was controlled, like if he wasn’t careful he might go off like a bomb. Still, the look he was giving Steve was fucking radiation poisoning.

“Ok, what the fuck is your problem?” Eddie spoke in a low voice and jerked his chin defiantly.

Steve could practically hear it, the moment his heart dropped like a rock.

Eddie’s top lip curled up when Steve didn’t say anything, just sat there with his dumb mouth left open.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to imply that you were…” Steve rubbed at the clamminess on the back of his neck.

“Oh no? Then what did you mean to imply, exactly?”

Steve hesitated, and Eddie looked upset at how much that vindicated him.

“I mean…” Sure, small towns were small-minded. But not Eddie. Never Eddie. At least, Steve never took him for the type. Sure maybe the guy’s a little bit prickly, but he doesn’t judge a freak for being a freak. He welcomed all those rejected and abandoned by society. Is fiercely, loyally protective over them. It was part of why Steve fell for him, his enduring Sheep Dog nature. “…s’not like it’s that bad a thing to be, right?”

Eddie laughed.

“Oh, it’s not, is it?” He said it big and loud and sarcastic and defiant. Like the way he talked to the assholes and the jocks and the bullies, the ones that give him trouble at school. How he talked to the ‘Them’ not the ‘Us’. Like the way he never talked to Steve.

“Hey,” Steve said, defensively. He stood up, not liking the feeling of Eddie looking down on him right now. “Dude, why are you being like this? I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Eddie’s features twitched, like he was exerting incredible amounts of restraint, and somehow this was his measured response.

“Hah. Well. S’ a good one. You’re a real riot…” He walked past Steve, roughly knocking into his shoulder as he did.

Steve stumbled a step. Eddie honestly hadn’t even bumped him that hard, but he wasn’t feeling very stabilized right now. He turned, watching Eddie march towards the tree line.

“Fuck you, King Steve,” Eddie said dismissively as he walked away. Steve was kind of floored. It took him a second to respond.

“I - Dude! Where are you even going?”

“I’ll walk!” Eddie yelled, not turning around.

Steve just watched him go. He wrapped his arms around himself. Suddenly realizing how cold he felt, even in his sweater. Even when it was still summer.

And Eddie he, he never acted like this.

Look, Eddie might have been kind of an asshole, and as of 5 minutes ago had decided he hated Steve’s guts… but he was still Eddie.

And Steve wasn’t gonna let him get lost in an occasionally monster-ridden forest.

He jogged to catch up. When Eddie heard him coming through the undergrowth, it seemed to make him storm away faster.

“Come on, man. Eddie! I’m sorry, okay? — Just. At least let me drive you home.”

“Fuck off, Harrington,” Eddie said, speed-walking as if Mr. Pack-A-Day could outpace the jock.

“Where are you even going?”

“What are you, a cop?”

“Eddie -“ Steve said, because this was, frankly, ridiculous. He grabbed Eddie’s wrist, tugging him back.

Eddie’s eyes were red-rimmed and glassy.

“Eddie?”

“What!?” Eddie said quietly, stubbornly looking somewhere off to the side, waiting for him to say something.

If only Steve knew what the fuck to say.

“You really had me fooled for a second there… that you’d changed since school. Shows me, huh?”

“Hey, fuck you! You’re the one who’s being, like, honestly, just - really immature about all this.”

“Oh, I’m being immature?” Eddie practically yelled, a cruel smile splitting his face open.

“Yes!” Steve yelled back indignantly, because that would be a hard charge for Eddie to beat right now. Especially with that petulant death glare he’s still got on.

Steve looked away and took a deep breath, dragging a hand roughly down his face. He held it over his mouth for a second, just trying to get his head on straight.

He really wished his eyes would stop burning. He’d thought… he’d really, really thought. Oh god, he’d just messed everything up, didn’t he?

“Jesus Christ. I’m sorry, okay? Can we just drop it? You don’t have to - you don’t gotta freak out on me…” Steve tried. But Eddie just stared at him, then looked down, kicking at the ground with the toe of his sneaker.

“God, you’re such a fucking asshole...” he muttered under his breath.

“I’m an asshole?” Steve repeated, offended and already exhausted from fighting. “Cause I asked you a question?”

“Cause where do you get off, that’s why. Fuckin’ - Am I just some kind of fucking joke to you? Is that it?”

“What - ?” Steve sputtered. “I don’t even -“ He tried so hard not to look as hurt by Eddie’s words as he felt. And when that got too impossible he just looked away. “You really think it’s that much of a joke, that I’d want to...”

“Come on! You think I don’t know this game? You figured out I’m into you, then what? What’s the play, King Steve? Huh? You ask me out so you can laugh in my face? Stand me up? Just hoping to watch me squirm? Well sorry to rain on your - “

Steve’s eyes snapped to Eddie.

“Wait, stop. Eddie - Stop! Just hold on for a second.” He held out his palms, trying to cut Eddie off mid rant. “You’re into me?”

Eddie looked at Steve like he was stupid.

“Yes!” He yelled. The ‘duh’ seemed to be implied.

Steve stopped. He stood up straighter. Smiled.

“Really?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Eddie said, blushing again. “Fine. Yeah, you got me all figured out. A freak and a fag, the fucking - two in one special. Well, you know what Harring-whatareyoudoing?”

“Really?” Steve said again, swooping in close. Feeling bold or brave or, more likely, just plain stupi. He grabbed one of Eddie’s hands loosely in his.

Eddie looked down at the point of contact and then back up at him. Just so fucking lost.

“What is this?” Eddie said, squinting at Steve like he was an algebra equation. But that was okay. It had taken a few tries, but Eddie managed to pass with a C. Eventually. “This…” He took a shaky step backward. Shaking his head and trying to get his hand back. “This is fucked up, man.”

“Go on a date with me.” Steve took a step forward, following him, taking both Eddie’s hands in his.

“Stop messing with me,” Eddie said, looking almost afraid.

“I’m not messing with you. Go on a date with me.” Eddie was totally and completely silent. Eyebrows drawn together, eyes darting all over Steve’s features, trying desperately to read them. Steve gave him an impish grin. “You like me,” he said smugly, but his voice couldn’t help but soften. “I like you, too Eddie.”

“You’re straight!”

“Says who?” Steve shrugged with a shy grin.

Eddie’s mouth hung open as he stared at Steve with those big, doe eyes.

“O-Okay…? Sure. But, I still — why would you want to…” Clearly, Eddie wasn’t getting it.

“I like you, dude,” Steve said, pushing down the nerves. Wanting this to go well. Because God, if it went well…

Eddie pointed to himself, mouthing the word ‘me’ with just the most comical look on his face. Steve let out a small puff of laughter.

“Yeah… I’m like, kinda totally gone on you, man.”

Eddie was shaking his head ‘no’. Steve put his hands gently on both of Eddie’s cheeks to stop him as he nodded his own head ‘yes’.

Normally, he’d be worried about encroaching on Eddie’s space like this, considering tonight he had shown himself to be especially flighty. But the way Eddie was gripping his wrists, Steve probably couldn’t have backed off even if he wanted to. And he really didn’t want to.

“Eddie… you’re fun. And you’re funny. And you help me take care of the kids. You look out for other people, and I like how you're always singing under your breath, all the time. And how you’re so… just, passionate with the stuff that you care about. And — and you’re hot.”

Eddie gave him a bewildered look.

“The uh, bad boy thing it’s…” he huffed a breath, “it works.”

“Uh…“

“What do I gotta do? To prove it? C’mon,” he asked quietly.

Eddie's eyes immediately darted down to his lips. Just like they always did when Steve got him close. Only now, maybe he can finally do something about it. Steve smiled.

“Yeah?” Steve asked in a small, intimate voice. No one else was around to hear, but still, Steve wanted it to be just for them.

Eddie looked hypnotized by the way Steve was bridging the distance between them.

Steve kissed him, soft and slow and perfect. Eddie melted into it immediately, and they kissed like that in the dark for a nice, long while.

Steve pulled back to see Eddie’s reaction, finding he had gone completely frozen. His eyes dazed with shock.

Oh god, Steve might’ve broken him…

Steve held him by his cheeks again, gently tilting his lips up so he could land one more kiss.

“Eddie?” The two of them just looked at each other.

A moment passed. And then another. And then Eddie was back online and had Steve pushed up against a tree. Steve groaned when his back connected with it. He likes that way more than he should.

Eddie’s forehead was pressed against Steve’s. He had his hands all over Steve, touching and caressing and roaming over all the uncharted territory of his face, his neck. Like he didn’t know where to start now that he had permission, so he settled for everywhere at once.

“What the fuck. What the fuck, Harrington?” Eddie muttered before kissing him. This time it was Steve who melted. Eddie pulled back, leaning away from him.

“You're not fucking with me, right?”

Steve shook his head ‘no’, losing the fight against a far too honest smile.

“Fuck,” Eddie whispered again. And then they were making out again, and Eddie was licking into his mouth, and his touch was restless, relentless, pressing into Steve’s skin, hands finding their way into his hair, under his shirt; and there’s that electricity.

It left him tingly all over. Steve moaned low.

“M’sorry I yelled at you.” Eddie pressed the words into Steve’s mouth.

“Make it up to me,” Steve panted.

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie said, still repeating himself, and Steve could feel a warm breath on his lips. It smelt like cigarettes and cheap beer, but tasted like something that fell out of heaven.

Eddie’s hands slid down the curve of his back, slipping into the back pockets of Steve’s jeans, squeezing hard. Steve jolted, his breath catching.

“Fuck, I’ve always wanted to do that,” Eddie groaned, sounding agonized by the feeling.

Steve chuckled, winding his arms around Eddie’s lower back and dragging Eddie against him. He widened his stance just enough to coax Eddie’s thigh into the space between his legs so he could grind down on it.

Eddie leaned back to watch him do it, directing Steve against his thigh with the hands cupping him firmly from inside his jeans pockets. His eyelids were heavy, and there was something dark and hungry behind them.

“Fuck, Steve. That’s fucking beautiful, you know that?” Steve made a noise in the back of his throat, pulling Eddie against him — demanding another kiss.

Steve could feel Eddie getting hard against his hip. It hit him with a full-body shiver. He knew Eddie had to feel what this is doing to Steve, too. And that also made him shiver a little bit.

“Eddie, wait - “ Eddie retreated just enough to nestle his face into Steve’s neck, placing soft, almost apologetic butterfly kisses into the sensitive skin.

“I’m getting carried away, aren’t I?” he said, without even pausing.

“No, me too,” Steve struggled to say between too big, heaving breaths. “I wanna do this right, Eds. Take you out, pick you up in my car, let me buy you dinner.”

Eddie pulled back to look at him. He had that look again, eyebrows drawn together like Steve was a puzzle he might never figure out. The difference was, this time he allowed some of that vulnerability he was so terrified of seep out through the cracks.

Then slowly, very slowly, the corners of his mouth started to rise. He was smiling mostly with his eyes, though. It was so fucking beautiful Steve felt his whole chest clench tight.

“Tonight doesn’t count,” Steve said.

Eddie laughed brightly. “No?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Beer isn’t dinner.” Eddie kissed him again, slow and languid and simmering so hot that Steve felt his insides start to boil from the glow. “Wanna romance you for real. Please?”

“Fuck, Steve. How are you supposed to say that and expect me not to fuck you right here on the ground?”

Steve jolted, his abdomen clenching in white, hot want, Eddie’s words and the gravel of his voice sending a sharp thrill down his spine.

Eddie leaned back a bit, grimacing.

“Right, I don’t know if you’re - if you’d be into, uh -“ Eddie trailed off, unsure. Steve huffed out a laugh, leaning his head back against the tree. Still breathing hard, he looked at Eddie from down the slope of his nose. He let his eyes roam lazily, checking Eddie out. Taking in his messy hair, his shiny pink lips, his broad-shouldered leather, his pretty face, and the expression on it that was so incredibly horny it kind of took every scrap of Steve’s willpower not to do something about it. The corner of Steve’s panting mouth twitched up.

“You want to? Fuck me?” He said it almost like a challenge. Eddie laughed, like that was another one of those things that came with a ‘duh’. Like it should be obvious.

“I am but a man. And you… are…” He let his sentence trail off again, because he knew he didn’t have to elaborate. His eyes said it all, the way they roamed slow down Steve’s body.

He squeezed Steve’s ass again and pushed his thigh up, trapping Steve against it. Steve choked on a sound that died in his throat.

“Fuck. What is even happening...” Eddie said, closing his eyes. “I feel like I’m about to wake up from a dream right now with the world’s least ignorable hard on.”

“Dream about me often, Munson?” Steve asked, lolling his head smugly, really just joking around.

“Fucking - Yeah. Dude. Like, a lot. Fuck, the amount of times I’ve gotten off thinking about this exact…” Steve’s eyelids went heavy, his lips parting in a small exhale. He could feel his breathing start to flutter. “Sorry, too much?”

“You’re the one who better not be fucking with me this time.”

“You have no idea how close I am to just dropping to my knees and blowing you right here, just like, instinctually.”

“How close exactly?” Steve raised a lecherous eyebrow. He couldn’t help but blush a little. This morning, his highest hope was that Eddie liked him back —

That Eddie had been dreaming about him sucking Steve’s dick? Yeah. That one might go to his head a little.

Eddie laughed and hid his face in Steve’s neck again. Steve wondered if that was just an Eddie thing — something he could expect more of… if Steve played his cards right.

“Fuck,” he muttered against Steve’s skin. “Could you tell?” Steve made a questioning noise, nosing at Eddie’s big frizzy mop of hair. His shampoo smelt like clean, fresh pine. He let himself breathe in deep, already addicted. “About my big stupid crush on you I’ve had since forever?”

Steve bit his lip, pressing his cheek into Eddie’s skull. God, he felt like such a fucking doofus smiling like this with his dick rock-hard between them.

“Okay, I’m worried you really are fucking with me now,” Steve laughed. Eddie shook his head ‘no’ against Steve’s skin.

“Since high school,” he grimaced, leaning heavily into him. “Not once did I ever actually even let myself consider that you’d ever…. Shit…. I can’t believe I blew up at you like that. God, I’m sorry I’m such a fucking dick…”

“You liked meeee,” Steve laughed. He was barely listening anymore. Eddie had been crushing on Steve in high school! That had got to be like five points for the You Rule board, at least!

Eddie reached a hand between them, squeezing Steve’s cock. He squeaked in surprise, trying to resist the urge to find further friction.

“By the looks of things, you like me well enough too,” Eddie said, nipping at his ear lobe.

“Hey. Stop it, stop that,” Steve said, wriggling in his grip. “I told you. I really wanna do this right.”

“Gonna wine and dine me, Harrington?”

“Can I?”

“Depends. You put out on the first date?”

Steve chuckled.

Eddie emerged from the space between Steve's head and neck. His eyes were soft and warm, and he had the dopiest lopsided grin.

“What do you take me for?” Steve said, pretending to push Eddie away with no real force behind it. He wanted to keep Eddie right here, in his arms, solid and warm on his chest, smiling just like that for… for however long Steve could manage to make him feel loved. Reminding him how much he deserves it, the loving.

“Fine. But I call next. You want romance, Harrington? You better be prepared for the whole nine yards. I’m talking flowers, I’m serenading you at the door - because yeah, I get to pick you up for date two. Oh, I’ll be pulling out chairs… and opening doors, laying down my jacket to help you over puddles . All of it, till you’re just sick to death of it. Just you fucking wait…”

“I suppose I could learn to live with it…” Steve said, rolling his eyes before laying one last kiss on Eddie’s stupid, perfect grin.

fin ~

Merry Holidays Sunflower!

[skzdarlings]

06. sharing a bed series ; skz ; felix

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 6/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: sexual content. enemies2lovers, sharing a bed trope. bodyguard au. a dose of angst. open ending. past violence and parental abuse mentioned. ongoing perilous situation and forced proximity. not the healthiest dynamic lol. spanking, some rough play, hair-pulling, throat-grabbing, overstimulation, crying during sex, mention of past unprotected sex, a more dominant felix and a kinda bratty reader.

-

You kick open your bedroom door.  As usual, no one is home except for you and Felix so you are free to scream and curse and stomp all you want. 

“I can’t fucking believe you!” you shout among a flurry of other colourful words.   

Felix enters behind you with his hands in his pockets, looking as nonchalant as ever. 

Felix’s perpetual calmness is half the reason your father hired him.  The other reason is that Felix was the best behaved boy in the world who grew into the most pristine, perfect man.  Your father did not claw his way to the top of the industrial world by settling for anything less than the best.  Lee Felix is the best.  Your father trusts him with everything and anything, including wrangling his rambunctious daughter.  Felix’s job is to guard and protect you – from others and from yourself.   He is annoyingly good at it.    

Felix is the prettiest, loveliest, sweetest man on the outside, particularly selected for his unassuming attributes.  An obvious bodyguard figure draws unwanted attention.  Felix, however, attended high school and college with you, posing as a fellow student and never looking out of place, always appearing gentle and ordinary and kind.  Behind that, he is a lethally competent bodyguard.  Your skinny, freckled, fair-haired watchdog can subdue any adversary. 

Including the one tonight. 

“I was just doing my job,” Felix says.  He closes your bedroom door and locks it out of habit even though you are home alone.  He is still completely uncaring to your crisis, as fucking usual, wandering around like he is a sensitive little lamb, smiling and content. 

You throw yourself down on your bed with a dramatic heave. 

“You broke his arm!” you cry.   

Felix is standing at your desk, removing his work equipment.  He is dressed like a civilian for the most part, denim pants with a windbreaker and a button-down over a t-shirt.  He lays the jacket over the back of the chair and sighs, looking at his reflection in your vanity mirror.   He runs a hand through his hair, still casual, feathering the dyed locks so they flutter back into place.   

“I was just doing my job,” he repeats.  He undoes the button-down and tosses it aside, then kicks his shoes under the desk.  

Felix is all sharp lines and harsh angles, slender but athletic.  His cheekbones are high, his angular face softened by his dark eyes and endearing freckles.   That sweetness is juxtaposed by the gun harness strapped across his back. 

You swallow.  The harness hits the floor, then he grabs the back of the t-shirt and yanks it swiftly over his head.  It joins the pile of discarded articles. 

He sits on the desk chair with a distracted sigh, dutifully disassembling the gun for an inspection or cleaning or whatever nonsense Felix has decided is more important than your conversation.  

“His arm,” you repeat.  “You broke his arm.  He was a completely innocent guy!  I’m allowed to flirt with guys!  Just because you’re my daddy’s good dog and he doesn’t let you get your dick wet, doesn’t mean I have to suffer too.” 

Felix looks at you, his mouth a thin line with his unamused smile. 

“Cute,” he says.  He drops the smile and his distinctive deep voice drops another decibel when he says, “You can flirt.  Just not with him.”

“His arm—”

Felix closes the gun and puts it on the desk. 

“I think he was lucky I didn’t rip it off for grabbing you like that, don’t you think?”  Felix says.  He asks it so nicely too, tipping his head imploringly, like he really wants an answer.  Not that he waits.  Just as soon as the smile comes, it goes, replaced with a eye roll as he gets to his feet. 

“Get ready for bed,” Felix says.  “And, mmm, that’s not a request by the way.  I’m phoning your dad to tell him we’re home safe.” 

He doesn’t give you a chance to argue, just leaves the room while reaching into his back pocket for his phone.  He closes the door behind himself, leaving you to fume by your lonesome. 

Out of rebellious frustration, you do not budge an inch.  You cross your arms and sit back on your bed, still dressed in your evening outfit.  You can distantly hear Felix speaking in a formal voice and it makes you twitch with anticipation. 

Felix being so professional is simultaneously his most annoying and most attractive quality.  Annoying, because he really never falters on the clock.  Attractive, because it wouldn’t be any fun pushing him to the boundaries of his rules if he wasn’t such a stickler in the first place.

When Felix returns, still wearing nothing more than his jeans, his expression immediately turns exasperated.  He closes the door and puts his hands on his hips, staring down at you.  

You stare straight ahead, arms and ankles crossed.   You and Felix have shared a bed since the day he was hired, back when you were teenagers, as you were in the habit of sneaking out at night.  You were not intimidated by the chubby-cheeked teenage boy, gleefully slipping past him while he slumbered – until suddenly you were being yanked back through the window.  You learned the hard way that despite his appearance and disposition, he was an especially skilled martial artist.    

As your father continues to accrue enemies in every market, you cannot live life on your own, not without endangering it.  You still need Felix.  You still share a bed.  Everything you do, you do with Felix, whether you like it or not.  Felix expresses little feeling on that front, a perpetual font of seeming sunshine when he isn’t breaking someone’s arm.

You know you are being mightily petulant by keeping him up, but you don’t care.   If you can’t have what you want then neither can he.   You can stay up all night, just staring and glaring at each other contemptuously.  You are happy to let all that mutual disdain simmer through its achingly slow burn. 

“Really?”  Felix says.  “Do we have to do this tonight?” 

“I’m not doing anything,” you say.   

“Right.”  He laughs dryly but sits gingerly on his side of the bed.  He smiles, his eyes crinkling sweetly with pleasure.  His hair is getting longer again, sweeping his neck, and you watch as he delicately tucks some behind his ear.   He leans on one arm, looking at you.  “I’ll ask you nicely then, sweetheart.” 

Ooh, that’s a low blow and he knows it.  The word sweetheart always sounds so rich in his mouth, his accent softening the heart of it.  Hopefully he misses the way you melt, but you doubt it. 

His smile only deepens. 

“Please, please get ready for bed,” he says.  “It’s been a long day, yeah?  And we’re both so tired.  Come on.  Let’s go.  Just need some rest I think.  Yeah, yeah, let’s go.” 

You do not move.    

You hear him sigh, a melodic sound.  He runs his hand through his hair again. 

“All right,” he says, soulfully.  “All right.  Fine.” 

You hear the sharper inflection in his tone but you react a moment too late.  Your bed is big, big enough you could starfish without even brushing his side of the bed, so it takes you a second to scamper to the opposite side. 

That second is too long.  Felix reaches out and grabs you by the calf, dragging you across the bed.

“Don’t you dare,” you say, kicking at him to no avail.   “I’ll phone my dad!”

He is completely undeterred by your dramatics, only sighing when he hauls you over his lap. 

“Go ahead,” he says.  “I’m allowed to use, uhhh, what’d he say… discretion… mm… to discipline you if I think I need to.” He puts his phone within your reach.  It is not a genuine gesture of goodwill so much as it is taunting you because you both know your father would take his side.   “Well?” he asks.  “Do you want to phone him?”   

“I hate you,” you say.

“I know,” he replies.  “Sorry.” 

He sounds like he means it, though it’s hard to believe him when he flicks up your dress and swings his open palm across your ass.  His hand comes down four more times before he neatly fixes your skirt again. 

“Bed time?” he asks brightly, like everything has been solved with no problem. 

You crawl off his lap while grumbling irritably, doing your best to ignore the smarting on your behind when you turn over to glare at him.  He is just smiling at you, that thin-lipped way he smiles with dry humour. 

“I hate you,” you say again. 

He waves his hand, gesturing the vaguest, blandest sentiment of meh with its wiggle.  

“I’m just doing my job,” he says for the millionth time. 

“Really?” you reply with as much sarcasm as he usually gives.  He hears it, tilting his head like a curious cat, as if he has no idea why you could possibly be upset with him – though the stupid little upturn to his lips tells you that he knows exactly why.  

You hate him.  You really, really do hate him.  You have never hated anyone the way you hate him and you want to shout it from the roof.  But you can’t do that.  You can only say it to his face in private, in whatever way you can.  

You reach without warning, cupping the bulge between his legs and finding a lot more than a denim crinkle.  His gaze darkens, his hand covering yours warningly, though he doesn’t lift it away.

You adopt a saccharine sweet tone when you speak.

“Do you tell my daddy that when you discipline me you get hard?” you ask, batting your eyelashes. 

He moves your hand to his thigh instead, shaking his head. 

“Stop being silly,” he says.  “Go get ready for bed.” 

Your eyes follow him as he stands.  He doesn’t get far when you grab his belt loop and tug him back.   Felix has fast reflexes and is incredibly coordinated, so you find it hard to believe you sincerely bested him, but he stumbles as if you did.   He stands where you want him, where he’s close enough for you to kneel on the bed and press your face right against his bulge. 

He says your name in a warning voice, his already deep voice dropping more.

“I wonder…” you say, nuzzling your nose against the ridge in the denim, where you can feel him hard and getting harder still.  “When my daddy asks you what we do all day,” you say, flicking your eyes up to his, “do you tell him your dick spends more time in my mouth than in your pants?”

His nostrils flare with his next breath. 

You smile, victorious. 

“He still thinks you’re his perfect soldier, doesn’t he?” you ask.  “You can do no wrong.  Little does he know…”

“I do my job,” Felix says.  “And I do a good job.  Okay? That’s all that matters.”   

You start to open your mouth, one hand climbing towards his fly.   You stop with a gasp when he fists a chunk of your hair, tugging your head away from him.  It sends a hot shock rippling through you, flooding you with the recollection of all the times he grabbed your hair and pulled you closer, the times he cupped your head and put himself in your mouth despite knowing better, the number of times he fucked between your pretty lips and forgot to be proper, cursing so much it was practically poetry. 

This time he guides you away and you whimper miserably.  He does not loosen his grip, his fingers threading closer to your scalp so it both hurts less and holds stronger.   He knows better than to just let go.   He knows you perfectly.  You glare at him. 

“Look at me,” he says, because your gaze dropped to his bulge again.  “I said look at me.”   He tugs your hair so you obey, giving him your most annoyed expression.  “You’re listening, yeah?” he says.  He doesn’t wait for an answer.  “You’re going to go to your closet.  Get ready for bed.  Sleep.  You’re going to do that,” his voice turns frighteningly pleasant, “or I’m going to carry you over there and get you ready myself.” 

“Like when we were leaving the club tonight?” you ask just as sweetly.  “And you put me over your shoulder then, oops, something happened when we were in the limo, didn’t it?” 

He lets go of you, exhaling tiredly in a high-pitched breath.

“Where did all your pretty rings go, Felix?” you ask, reaching for his bare hand, usually adorned with rings.  “Did they fall on the floor in the limo when you decided you had to shove your hand up my skirt?”   

Leaving the club, you were both wired.  Felix was honestly justified in breaking that guy’s arm.  You purposefully chose the creepiest, shadiest guy in the club to lead on, knowing Felix would appear two seconds later to rescue you.   He always does.  No one else ever pays you any personal attention and your life is too complicated for romance, so you thrive on the feeling of someone caring enough to always find you – even if it’s literally his job. 

You also like getting mad at him for overreacting, but you like his overreactions.   Him twisting and breaking that creep’s arm honestly turned you on.  It also got Felix all worked up, a bit pissed because you were being irresponsible again but nonetheless heated.  You thought for sure he’d take you home and go crazy and fuck you in the foyer.  Instead he put up the limo divider and one-by-one removed his rings, giving you ample time to refuse before he covered your mouth tightly and slid his other hand up between your thighs. 

Of course, despite bringing you to the edge several times, he never let you finish.  Because he’s the worst. 

And now you’re all worked up and he’s shirtless and being a stupid, pretty, two-faced bitch.

“I—”  you start. 

He rolls his eyes and says, “I know. I know.  You hate me.  Now go.”

You get up, stomping all the way to your walk-in closet.  You can’t even slam the door because it’s a sliding one, but you make the biggest possible demonstration of closing it anyway. 

You get ready for bed.   You briefly consider dressing provocatively or even strolling out there naked, but in the end you decide to just dress in your ugly, comfy, over-sized t-shirt and march angrily back into the room. 

Felix is gone when you return, probably off to double-check the house security one last time before joining you.   You could try climbing out the window and down the terrace, just to be ridiculous, but he’ll catch up sooner than later and be even more annoying about it.   So you get into bed and turn off the lights, laying down with a huff, blankets pulled up to your chin. 

You get a bit dozy before Felix returns, the creaking door snapping you awake.  You look over your shoulder and watch him finally shuck the jeans.  He gets into bed in his boxers, removing his earrings once under the covers.  He puts on the bedside table, then double-checks his gun is in the drawer, then and then only then does he lay down. 

The big bed leaves an ocean of space between you.  You roll over to face him.  His eyes are closed but there’s no way he is already asleep. 

“Felix,” you whisper, even though the big house is empty, “I’m cold.”

“There’s another blanket in the closet,” he says without opening his eyes. 

You slide across the bed, close enough to reach out and put a hand on his chest.  He opens his eyes and stares straight up. 

“I need a cuddle,” you say.  “Or I’ll have nightmares.” 

“You’re not a child anymore,” he says. 

That is maybe one thing you miss about the time before you and Felix started… this.  When things were still innocent between you, he would often let you snuggle up with him.  Now, he keep his distance.  Now, he doesn’t hug or hold you. 

So no one does.    

“We’re still young,” you say, a dumb argument, but you’re tired and out of ideas. 

“I was never as young as you,” he grumbles, more to himself than you.  He seems to realize what he said and shakes his head.  He pats your hand on his chest then rolls over, leaving his back to you. 

You slowly return your hand to yourself, staring at the back of his head with an uncharacteristic prickling of tears. 

Felix doesn’t talk about his life before this.  You just know that it was somehow worse.   Worse than being a watchdog.  Worse than giving up years of his life to protect someone else.   Worse than the times your father wanted to discipline you but learned that if he hit you directly you would just patch yourself up and move on, but if he hit Felix then you would break down and offer anything to make him stop.  

You can see a couple faded scars from those times, faint lines that cross his back, remnants of old belt lashings.  You touch one now, tracing your finger lightly from one end to the other.  You watch a shiver roll down his spine.   He doesn’t turn around. 

Giving up, you roll away, back to your distant side of the bed.  You close your eyes and will yourself to sleep, but it just makes you well up with tears.  You sniffle, rubbing your nose messily on the back of your arm.    

Fabric rustles.  You suck in a breath when Felix slides up behind you, pulling you into the middle of the bed where he holds you snugly in his arms.   You immediately roll to face him, throwing a leg over his hip and burying your face in his neck. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, nothing else. 

“I hate you,” you say, then press a kiss just under his jaw.

“I know.”  He cups the back of your head as your kisses move down his neck.  “I know.” 

You make it to the middle of his chest before he turns you onto your back and gets up over you.  He kisses you properly, thumbs wiping your tears as his mouth makes you forget about the reason you cried at all.  All that matters is kissing him back, wrapping your legs around his hips and pulling him close as possible.  His sounds of pleasure are so deep and rough and rumbling. 

“Fuck me, please, please,” you say, pushing your fingers into his hair. 

He groans, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“You know we can’t do that,” he says. 

“We’ve done it before,” you say, purposefully canting your hips to rub against him, reminding him you are still so hot and wet from his finger-fucking, that only stupid underwear keeps you apart.  It has the desired effect, his brow furrowing as he holds himself still above you.  You peck his lips and string your arms around his neck.  “You know I’m on birth control now for that reason,” you say, a little sweetly, smiling up at him.  “Remember?”

He drops his face in the crook of your neck and makes an even crazier sound, shaking his head. 

“That was very, very irresponsible of us, you know,” he says. 

“Mhm,” you say, sliding your hand down his body to his waistband.  “It really was.  But it felt good, didn’t it?   Dangerous.  Coming inside me like that.”

Felix is right; that incident was very irresponsible.  You had already started your little cat-and-mouse game and ran out of condoms one night.  Because the two of you only have sex with each other, when that happened, you usually just fooled around until he pulled out. 

That time was… a lot.   You were pressed so tightly together and you were being painfully quiet because you weren’t home alone.  It was such a stupid time to mess around, but common sense leaves you when Felix is involved. 

That feeling is mutual.  Felix knew better too.   If he got you pregnant… the fallout with your father would be catastrophic for both of you.   Still, for that moment he was inside you, with your fingers laced together and pressed by your head, with your legs tight around him and his face in your neck, nothing else seemed to exist.  You were two normal people who were allowed to do whatever they wanted with whoever they wanted.  It was a breathless, momentary fantasy, holding him tight and telling him to come, shuddering at the noise he made as he did just that.   You didn’t even panic after the fact.   You let the moment linger for as long as it could, still pretending you were normal, still pretending it was fine. 

You started birth control soon after, telling your father it was to regulate your period.   He waved it off, not wanting to hear more.  

Your father has truly never suspected a thing.  He doesn’t see the people around him as people, just objects, so it makes sense that he sees nothing in Felix but a soldier.  He doesn’t know anything about Felix.  Doesn’t know the pattern of his freckles or how his eyes crinkle up when he smiles.  Doesn’t know he has a sweet tooth and will dump a thing of sugar in nearly everything.  Doesn’t know what he finds funny, doesn’t know what makes him sad, doesn’t know anything at all.  

You drag your calf up the back of his leg.

“Felix,” you say. 

He gives you no chance to say more.  One second you are in limbo, the very next he has shoved down both his boxers and your underwear and is already pressing into you.  Only nonsense leaves your lips after that, your eyes closing as he works your body like a familiar and well-loved instrument.   He knows it as well as you do.  As you do his.  It’s easy to work him up, to get him as close as you. 

“I know what you’re doing,” he says, changing position so he’s kneeling.  He puts one of your legs up against his chest, levelling you with an amused smile.  “You’re trying to get me to finish first,” he says. 

“What? Noooo…”  Your giggle turns into a gasp.  You can be as loud as you want but you bite your fist anyway, hiccupping with a choked back sob of pleasure when he finds an angle that makes you see stars. 

“Yes, you are,” he says.  “But you won’t win.” 

“I will,” you say.

“Uh-uh,” he says. “Sure.” 

He makes you come twice before he does.  He even starts pushing you towards a third but you are so oversensitive that it makes tears fall.  He cups your chin and looks at you, cursing. 

“You’re so mean,” you say, smiling through your tears.  “Getting off to me crying.”

“I’m—not—I just—”

“Liar,” you tease.  “You totally are.”

He just giggles.  Then he flips a switch and goes from cute to something else, grabbing your throat and fucking into your oversensitive pussy so good and hard that you cry out.

“Shhh, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he says.  “Got you.  Got you.  I—”

You kiss him and he comes, sinking into you with dick and tongue and breath, filling you and surrounding you.  

You hold him close, arms tight around him, his sweaty forehead pressed to yours.   When he tries to lift away, you pull him back, making him laugh softly. 

“Stay,” you say, and repay his torture by squeezing him inside you, knowing it will make him twitch and jerk with oversensitivity of his own. 

“You never make it easy for me, do you,” he says with no animosity. 

You shake your head and smile like you’re proud of that.  He laughs then kisses you.   The kiss is good and thorough and sweet, completely loving, affectionate.  It gets your heart racing despite everything you just did.  You rest your hands on his chest and gently push him back. 

“I still hate you,” you say, because you have to say it, because the opposite would be too dangerous to ever say.  You can’t even let that word enter your thoughts, certainly never let it leave your lips.  If you held that word in your mouth for even a second, you would become addicted to it.   So you glare at him with all passion you can muster and say,   “I hate you so much.”   You sniffle when he wipes your tears away.   You turn your face.  “I hate you more than I’ve ever hated anyone.” 

“I know,” he says in a strained voice.  He presses his forehead to your temple and exhales.   “I know, sweetheart.” 

[dollarbils]

focused | j.o.

jenna ortega x fem!reader

context. your girlfriend’s been busy all day. all you’re craving is for her focus to be on you.

warnings. angst, smut, degrading words.

masterlist

she’d been glued to her laptop all day. consumed in this new script she’d received. of course you were excited for her, you’d seen the way her face lit up. but she’d been at it for hours, days.

“jenna, when are you going to give yourself a break, how long is this script?” she wasn’t fully listening, still engrossed by the letters on the white screen.

“hm?” she barely looked over at you, registering thad you’d said something, but nothing more.

“jenna please. i feel like i haven’t seen you in days even though we live together.” she seemed to have had picked up on your tone because this time she turned around, facing you.

“sorry, what did you say?” she asked you to repeat yourself for the second time.

“i miss you, love. it’s been ages since we’ve talked or spent time together.” she furrowed her brows in confusion.

“what do you mean? we see each other all day.” she chuckled, not taking the conversation seriously.

“i’m serious jenna, you’ve been glued to that screen for the past two days, i’ve barely heard your voice. it’s been keeping you up at night too.” instead of self reflecting, she went on the defensive immediately.

“that’s not true. i just really need to get this script looked over. i was told i could comment on anything id like to possibly get changed. do you understand how rare it is for an actor to get that opportunity?” she got up from the desk chair, waving her hands around as she yelled.

“no, of course i do. but that doesn’t mean you can’t at least take a break.” she rolled her eyes.

“i have taken breaks, it’s not my problem you’re so needy all the time.” the insult was misplaced and you felt embarrassed.

“i’m needy? jenna i haven’t had a conversation that’s lasted more than a minute in the last 48 hours. wanting more than that is not needy.” you couldn’t shake the feeling that had settled in, the fact that maybe you were too needy.

“oh my god, you’re so dramatic. just wait for me to finish and then i’m all yours.” her tone was condescending, and you soon found it ridiculous that you were fighting over this.

“it’s not only about me, you need a break too.” she didn’t seem to care.

“just give me five minutes.” you knew five minutes would turn into five hours but it didn’t matter anymore. and once five minutes had passed, you closed your eyes and drifted to sleep, no longer having the energy to fight her.

-

after some time, she came through the door, to find you sleeping. it’s not as if she’d wanted to upset you, but this script was really exciting to her. she hadn’t meant to ignore you.

“baby,” she shook you awake, not wanting to go to sleep without fixing this.

“jenna, i’m not in the mood.” she was slightly taken aback by your cold words.

“i’m sorry, sweetheart.” she sat upright on the bed, caressing your arm gently, coaxing you into forgiveness.

“please.” she repeated, and even without elaboration it was clear what she was asking for.

“okay.” you folded as the soft words left your lips. you pushed the covers back and let her take you in her arms. she kissed your forehead earning a sigh, as you relaxed in her warm embrace.

“what can i do to make it better?” she asked with genuine concern, however your response was a mischievous grin. she raised her eyebrows as she questioned the look you were giving her.

“i could use some head.” she laughed at your reply and kissing your smiling lips.

“i can arrange that.” she whispered in your ear, her hands burning the skin at your waist.

“my poor angel’s touch starved. tell me what you need, baby.” her voice was sick with power. she loved having you so desperately begging for her. although she did feel bad.

“fuck, jenna. i just need you to t-touch me.” her smile widened and she fumbled with your shorts, not planning on wasting any time with you.

“mm, can’t get off on your own huh? need my help.” she urged you to reply and when you didn’t she pulled your chin in order to face her.

“y-yeah, need you to help m-me.” her fingertips were brushing against your clothed clit, causing your words to break up in a stutter. she enjoyed how desperate you sounded beneath her touch, her words rendering you more and more flustered.

“so pathetic aren’t you.” her words were harsh because she knew it turned you on. you were nodding without realising what you were agreeing to, too focused on the filthy words leaving her mouth to ponder on their meaning. she chuckled into your neck, her warm tongue soothing the bruises she’d created.

“jen-jenna, please.” her hands pulled down your panties before she began to play with your wetness, spreading it around and earning choked whines from your throat.

“hm, who are you so wet for baby?” she teased but you didn’t have the strength to reply as she lowered her head between your thighs. her tongue laid flat against your clit, tasting your arousal while her fingers toyed with your entrance.

“f-fuck.” instinctively, your thighs shut around her head, making her hiss.

“open wide for me.” she instructed, looking up to see you fisting the sheets with your head thrown back. however when you had relaxed, you’d managed to comply with her request.

“that’s it.” she affirmed, her mouth latching onto your heat once again. you were soon returned to your previous state, your mouth an exit for all sorts of pornographic noises. you physically couldn’t keep quiet. and when you began grinding against her tongue, she groaned into you, the pleasure of devouring you finally expressed.

“oh my god, jenna please- please keep going.” she smirked into your pussy, flicking her tongue over your clit, and darting it in and out of your entrance. it felt so good. she was too good.

“fuck, jenna. so close, can i-i.” your eyes were shut as the pleasure built up, so close to your release.

“mhm.” she nodded, her face still buried in your arousal, bringing you to the edge and helping you ride it out once that chord has snapped. you felt yourself grow warm as the pleasure consumed you, clenching around her tongue. she came up to kiss you, her tongue sure to penetrate your lips so that you could taste yourself.

“am i forgiven?” she smiled and you couldn’t help shoving her playfully at the look she was giving you.

“yeah, i’d say so.”

[pandapetals]

do you think you could do a logan x ADHD!reader? If you’re comfortable with it of course! I love your writing, you’re amazing 🩷

Hi, thank you so much for the request and thank you, you are so kind! I hope I did it justice because I don’t have ADHD but i know people who do. hopefully I accurately represented ADHD.

big thanks to @she-loves-wolvie for the help!

logan howlett x ADHD!fem!reader - established relationship, slight angst, fluff, logan comforts reader, logan is a softie, friend group vibes, reader gets upset, darlin’ nickname used, no y/n used, no reader description, kissing

The living room hummed with the residue of a long, chaotic day. Crumpled blankets lay abandoned on the couch, a forgotten coffee mug teetered precariously on the edge of the table, and the scent of Ororo’s calming lavender diffuser barely masked the lingering aroma of burnt popcorn from earlier. You bounced your knee incessantly, unable to sit still, your leg a jackhammer against the floor. Every time you tried to focus on Jean’s story, your gaze flitted to the flickering shadows on the wall, the swirl of steam curling from Logan’s beer, the way Scott tapped his glasses in a steady rhythm. The noise in your head felt like an over-tuned radio, every channel fighting for dominance.

Jean leaned back in her chair, gesturing animatedly as she recounted when she and Ororo were at a bar.

“So, Ororo and I are just sitting there, minding our business,” she said with a dramatic wave of her hand. “And this guy walks over. Doesn’t even look at me. Starts talking to ‘Ro like I’m a piece of furniture.”

Ororo’s laugh was soft, like a breeze stirring the curtains. “Jean, you’re exaggerating.”

Jean shot her a knowing look. “I am not. I started talking, and this guy straight-up cut me off. You know what he said?”

You didn’t mean to interrupt. It just tumbled out of your mouth like a loose thread unraveling a sweater. “I mean, I can’t blame him. ‘Ro is gorgeous.”

The room froze for a beat. Logan smothered a laugh with a low grunt, his shoulders shaking. Jean’s eyebrows shot up as she swiveled toward you, her expression sharp enough to cut glass.

“I’m sorry, what?” she asked, half-incredulous, half-amused, though her tone leaned more on the former.

Scott glanced between you and Jean, his mouth opening like he wanted to meditate, but before he could say anything, he shut it and looked back down at his hands.

Heat rushed to your face, and the static in your brain spiked. You hadn’t even realized you’d said it out loud until the words hung in the air. “I—uh—sorry, I didn’t mean—”

Scott, of all people, chose that exact moment to mutter, “Guess that’s the ADHD talking.” He winced the second the words left his mouth, raising both hands in surrender. “I—no. That was—sorry. That was a stupid thing to say.”

Your chest tightened, and the room suddenly felt smaller and hotter. “Yeah. Thanks for that,” you snapped, pushing up from the couch so fast your knee bumped the coffee table. The mug rattled dangerously before Logan’s quick hand steadied it. “I’m gonna go. Obviously, I’m not needed here.”

“Hey,” Logan started, but you were already heading toward the door.

You heard Jean scold Scott behind you—something about watching his mouth—but the words blurred together. Your pulse thundered in your ears, drowning everything out as you stormed down the hall.

It wasn’t until you reached the porch, the cool night air brushing your face, that you realized you’d been holding your breath. You sank onto the steps, hugging your knees to your chest, your mind whirling with embarrassment and frustration. You hated this—how your brain tripped over itself, how your mouth betrayed you before you could think things through. 

Scott’s comment—it wasn’t even that bad, but it still stung.

The door creaked open behind you. Heavy boots scuffed against the wood. Of course, Logan would come after you. 

He didn’t say anything at first, he just sat down beside you with a quiet grunt. The scent of cigars and pine clung to him like a second skin. For a while, the two of you just stared out into the yard, the crickets chirping in the tall grass.

Finally, he broke the silence. “Y’know, Jeannie’s stories are boring as hell anyway.”

You huffed a laugh despite yourself, burying your face in your arms. “Yeah, well, I still managed to screw it all up.”

“Nah,” Logan said, his voice low, gravelly. “Scott’s just got a knack for puttin’ his foot in his mouth. You didn’t screw nothin’ up.”

You peeked at him from under your arms. “It’s not just that. I don’t know. It’s like… my brain won’t shut up, you know? It’s always doing too much, or not enough, and I just—” You broke off, shaking your head. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”

Logan leaned back, resting his forearms on his knees. “’Cause I ain’t gonna judge you for it.” He tilted his head toward you, his eyes softer than you expected. “Look, I’ve been around long enough to know people got their own stuff goin’ on. Jean? She’ll get over it. And Scott? Well, he’s a dumbass, but he meant well. What matters is you’re tryin’. That counts for somethin’.”

His words settled over you like the warmth of a heavy blanket. You let out a shaky breath, your shoulders finally easing from the tight knot they’d been twisted into all evening. Even then, your fingers twitched against the hem of your sleeve, the restless energy refusing to fully quiet. The ache in your chest softened like the pressure had been released just enough to let the air back in.

“Thanks, Logan,” you murmured. 

You kept your eyes fixed on the yard, tracing the uneven sway of the trees in the breeze, their movement soothing but fleeting. Embarrassment bubbled under your skin like a static hum, your mind a jumble of replayed words, scenarios, regrets—so loud, but somehow quieter when Logan was near. You were grateful for the way he always seemed to know how to quiet the storm in your head.

You felt the familiar shift of his weight as he leaned closer, the scent of leather and pine brushing past you. The rough warmth of his knuckles grazed your chin, tilting your face toward him with quiet, unhurried confidence.

“Here,” he said, his voice low and rough. His thumb brushed your jawline as he leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours, light as a whisper. The brief contact sent a spark zipping down your spine, pulling you into the moment so completely that everything else—the embarrassment, the static in your head, the world—fell away.

When he pulled back, his smirk was soft but teasing, his hazel eyes holding yours like they were memorizing you. “For your mouth,” he murmured, his tone playful. “Next time you feel like saying somethin’ that’ll get you in trouble…” His thumb traced the corner of your lips before he let his hand drop. “…just kiss me instead.”

Heat rushed to your face. Your lips parted in surprise, and then you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and sweet, like bubbles breaking the surface. 

“That’s your solution?” you teased, the corners of your mouth tugging into a shy smile.

“Damn right it is,” he said, leaning back slightly but still close enough that the warmth of him lingered. “Way I see it, it’s a win-win.”

You shook your head, still smiling, but your gaze darted away, landing on the flickering shadows of tree branches outside the window. Your fingers found the seam of your sleeve, tracing it absentmindedly as your teeth pressed into your bottom lip—a leftover habit from when your thoughts used to tumble over themselves. The nervous energy that had churned inside you earlier had eased now like a spinning top finally winding down.

Logan had a way of doing that—of stepping into the chaos in your head without judgment, pulling focus without even trying. With him, the tangled mess of thoughts that usually felt impossible to manage became quieter. It wasn’t that the noise disappeared completely—it never did—but with Logan sitting there, it was something real to hold onto.

“Well, maybe I’ll give it a shot,” you said softly, glancing up at him through your lashes.

His smirk widened, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “I’ll hold you to that, darlin’.”

[amongemeraldclouds]

not being romantic

Jess Mariano may be cute, possibly charming, but he is most definitely annoying. He certainly can’t hold a candle to your secret pen pal who’s smart, loves books, and aspires to be an author. Or can he?

Jess Mariano x f!Reader

Warning: no use of y/n, mostly fluff, some angst, cursing, suggestiveness. This fic is set after he left Stars Hollow.

✿ Masterlist | 3.3k words

The cafe buzzed with the rush of customers lined up for their afternoon caffeine fix. Coffee machines droned on churning coffee as sunlight streamed through the windows and the smell of baked goods wafted through the air.

You smirked at Jess Mariano before you called the customer to hand them their drink. You proceeded to add another point to your scoreboard, waving your arm for emphasis. He rolled his eyes at your dramatics and hurried up, adding whipped cream to the drink he was preparing. 

Everything was always a game with him. Who could get the highest amount of tips? Who could guess the new customer's coffee order? Who could make the most convincing foreign accent?

Today’s game was: who could make the fastest coffee order?

“You’ve gotten better,” he observed as you grabbed a cup for the next customer. “Aren’t you glad to have had an incredible instructor like me?”

You scoffed, “more like an incredible loser if you don’t hurry up with that order. Just because you taught me, doesn’t mean I’d go easy on you, Mariano,” you taunt, narrowing your eyes for emphasis.

He shook his head with a smile, “I expected nothing less from you.” He made his way to the other end of the counter to call the customer and handed them their drink.  

Another busy shift flew by and before you knew it, it was time to close down the cafe.

You grabbed the scoreboard, beaming with pride. “I won! You can now call me the Queen of Speed, Barista Extraordinaire. Bow down before your queen.”

Jess looked up from where he was wiping the counter with a flat expression. “I’ll call you the Queen of Clean if you help me with these last few tables?”

You frowned at him and stuck your tongue out, of course he had a whole arsenal of retorts with him at any given moment. You grabbed the towel and disinfectant spray from behind the counter and moved to wipe down the tables. “You’re no fun, but I’ll let it slide since you now owe me a favor.”

“As long as I don’t have to help you dispose of a body then it’s fine,” he replied, eyebrow raised. 

You rolled your eyes, “if I ever need to dispose a body, it would probably be yours.”

“Are you confessing to something you’ll commit? I don’t think that’s very wise.”

“I’m not planning anything,” you sighed, pinching your nose. The conversation was getting more and more off topic by the second. “You, however, will be the dea*h of me.”

“I’ll add you to the waitlist,” he nodded as he set aside the towel and grabbed the key, ready to close for the evening. Of course that wasn't the first time that line was directed at him.

“You’re just trying to avoid what you owe me. Stop deflecting, Mariano,” you accused, heading towards him to return the cleaning materials. “I need your help with my toaster, it stopped working and I can’t afford to get it fixed or replaced. Can you help me with that?”

“Of course, anything for the Queen of Speed,” he replied.

“You forgot Barista Extraordinaire,” you added helpfully.

Jess just shook his head as if to say, I can’t win with you. He fought the smile that threatened to break across his features. Perhaps you too had your own arsenal of comebacks.

With the final turn of the key, the door swung in and you and Jess headed into your tiny apartment. It was a studio that’s three steps away from the kitchen, five steps away from the bathroom, and ten steps away from the bed. You liked to keep it simple, minimalistic. It definitely had nothing to do with the cheap rent.

“Welcome to my apartment. It’s not much but it’s home,” you said, gesturing around the place.

“It’s cozy and it’s very you,” he remarked.

You folded your arms and stared at him, “I can’t tell if that’s an insult or a compliment.”

“Let me see. Second hand furniture, potted plants around the area, and the artwork looks similar to your napkin doodles. Don’t think I didn’t notice them. It’s a mosaic of different things, but you managed to tie it all together and make it work. It’s just like you to make good out of a potentially bad situation,” he observed.

“Slow down there or you’ll end up hosting shows about house tours,” you teased. “And hey, I’ll take the compliment. Who knew Jess Mariano could be nice?”

He shrugged, “I just call it like I see it.”

You took the three steps necessary to reach the kitchen. “Here’s the troublemaker, by the way. Not you, well, aside from you,” you amended and pointed to the toaster. “Not sure what’s wrong, it just stopped working.”  

He approached you and it struck you just how small the kitchen was, certainly not big enough for two. When you turned to speak to him, all the words left your mind as you realized you’re only inches away from him. Heat crept up your cheeks and you blinked.

Jess smirked at your reaction, keenly aware of the effect he had to you. That cocky bastard. He leaned in a bit closer and your breath hitched. “You know, if you just wanted me over at your place, there’s a lot of other fun things I can help you with.” You scrunched your nose and took a step back, immediately transported to the area you considered your bedroom. “If that’s your way of confessing your feelings for me, it’s not very romantic at all. Thought you’d have more game than that, Mariano,” you hedged.

“Oh, that’s because I’m not trying to be romantic. If I were trying....” he said, taking a step forward, closing the distance you tried to place between you. He brushed the hair away from your cheek, the touch so unexpectedly tender coming from Jess. You took in how soft his lips looked up close.

When he touched the side of your face, your attention returned to his soulful eyes. “...I’d do something like this,” he concluded, his breath against your lips like the ghost of a kiss. That’s all it took for him to steal the breath from your lungs.

You’re disoriented when cool air greets you again as he took a step back and the only trace left is the fading warmth from where his hand caressed your cheek. “But like I said, I’m not trying to be romantic,” he shrugged.

You cleared your throat, brushing off the lingering heat of the interaction. You ignored the pang of disappointment that hit you. Besides, someone else already had your heart, this was nothing but a silly little crush. “Well can you please try to fix my toaster?” you asked, trying to stay on topic as always.

“Sure, I have tools at home. I can take it with me and bring it back when I’m done.”

You nodded, “okay thank you. Let me just grab a bag you can carry it in.”

He scanned the room while you opened the cabinet to grab a reusable bag.

“Why do you have lots of mail?” He asked, thumbing through the pile of opened envelopes on your kitchen counter.

You mulled over the question, unsure how much you wanted to share with Jess Mariano and risk a round of his teasing. Then again, you could handle Jess. “Well, there’s this guy I really like. We send each other letters. If you really want to know what romantic is, Mariano, it’s hand written letters. No one bothers to write them anymore. There’s something sweet and sincere about it.”

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

“I’m not really sure. I got his first letter from the bookstore I frequent, the employee handed it to me and I asked him to hand back my reply. We just kept going from there, I think the mystery just adds to the romance.”

Jess shot you a worried look. “You mean to say, you’re corresponding with a complete stranger? For all you know he’s hiding his identity because he’s a stalker or a serial killer.”

“Please, he is not. He is smart, funny, and he’s writing a book. I just don’t feel like he’s that type of person.”

“You’re going off this based on your feelings? I don’t think that’s wise or safe.”

“Jess, it’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about,” you replied, having had enough of him for the day. After handing him the bag with the broken toaster, you shoved him towards the door and out from your apartment, wishing him a good night.  

“That was quick,” you said as you headed out of the cafe and walked towards Jess’ apartment to retrieve your now functional toaster.

Jess shrugged, “it was no big deal, just had a few loose screws to reattach. Speaking of loose screws, how about that imaginary boyfriend of yours? Finally decide to reveal himself?” 

You sighed, Jess had been on your case the whole week since you told him about your mysterious crush. Needless to say, you regretted telling him about it. “No, but he hasn’t written to me recently,” you pondered. “He must be busy writing his book.”

“Or planning your untimely demise,” he retorts.

“Jess, I swear,” you grit your teeth, “I’ll be planning your untimely demise if you don’t drop it. Why do you care so much? Are you jealous? Is that what this is about?”

“Well I’m trying to look out for a coworker, why does this have to be about me? But hey, I’ll drop it,” he relented. “Besides, I won today so you owe me a favor.”

You groaned, but don’t say anything further. He won fair and square, you were ready to accept your fate.

Jess continued, “My uncle sent some food last night and I have a lot more than I can finish myself. Help me with that before you leave with your toaster?”

“Jess Mariano,” you narrowed your eyes at him, “are you asking me out for dinner?”   

“No,” he quickly said and then caught himself. “We’re not going out, we’re dining in. Besides if I were being romantic, I might bring you flowers, pick you up, take you somewhere nice. So this,” he said, pointing between him and you, “is not me being romantic.”

“And there goes Mr. Defensive,” you smirked. Of course he was not being romantic, not to you. He had a hundred and one ways to tease and annoy you but never to charm you. Still, you couldn’t help the way it killed you just a little inside.

“I swear if you tell me this is where the magic happens, I will smack your head,” you deadpan as Jess opened the door to his apartment.

“Why does that turn me on?” He teased. Your face twisted in confusion and disgust and Jess laughed triumphantly, having drawn out a reaction from you. You had no idea you were adorable, he thought.

“Just welcome to my home then,” he said. 

You stepped in, admiring his cozy space. You imagined a messy home with leftover containers and soda cans strewn about reeking of old laundry and faded furniture. You had little to no expectations at all.

Instead what greeted you was a small space, similar to yours. The bed was made, blanket tucked in neat corners and the furniture, while undoubtedly secondhand, was well maintained. If anything, the mismatched pillows against the pale blue sofa and the sanded down wooden table gave it personality. It smelled like subtle household cleaners and carried the scent that is so distinctly Jess, a mixture of soap and sweat, plus a hint of cologne he would never admit to wearing.

“It’s very you,” you remarked, “and I don’t mean that as a bad thing.”

He shrugged, handing you your toaster, “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“Thanks again for the toaster. Now there’s only one troublemaker here in this room,” you quipped as you move towards his kitchen to help him set the dinner table.

“That’s definitely you,” he replied, handing you the plates and utensils while he moved to heat up the food from the fridge. “Hand me the glasses over there?” He asked, pointing to the drawers on the opposite end.

You nodded, setting down the plates on the table and headed towards the drawer. “Well, I’ll let it slide just this time because you’re feeding me and I can’t say no to free food. Thank you Jess,” you said, a small hint of affection blooming in your chest.

You opened the first drawer and found only papers. You were about to close it to check the next drawer when the familiar edge of stationery caught your eye. It was exactly the type of paper you smiled at for hours on end, trying to memorize each word. Curiosity got the better of you and you lifted a half written letter to your eyes. A half written letter addressed to you.

A storm of emotions struck you then: confusion, hurt, and anger. All this time. The boy who weaseled his way into your heart, who called you cute in his first letter and wanted to get to know you. Who charmed you into the romantic idea of secret identities like spies undercover. Who shared your love for books and had the best recommendations that made you feel seen like no one ever has. Who spoke about his love for writing with a passion that inspired you. 

All this time it was Jess Mariano.

All this time it was a lie.

Just another one of his games.

“What about those gla—” he stopped mid-sentence when he turned back and saw you reading his letter.

“Fuck,” he exhaled softly as heat crept into his cheeks.

You looked at him, fire burning in your eyes. “Is that all you have to say, Mr. Fantastic Writer?” You huffed, trying to quell the tears that threatened to choke you. 

Jess opened his mouth and closed it, wanting to say a million words and failing. You watched the war raging in his head.

“Well then indeed, fuck!” You exclaimed in frustration. “And fuck you too. I know you love your games Jess, but you can’t just go around playing with other people’s feelings.”

You retreat and grabbed your things, shaking your head. “God, I feel like such a fool.”

You threw the door behind you and was a few steps away when you realized you left your toaster. Shame and betrayal marched with you as you opened his door again and found him still frozen where you left him.

“I’m just here for my toaster, which I actually need. Unlike you, I don’t need anything from you, Jess. I’ve read and heard enough,” you said, your voice wavered at the end and tears spilled down your cheeks.

You turned away from embarrassment, toaster in hand, and ran the rest of the way home. He didn’t deserve to hear your sobbing. He didn’t even deserve any of your tears. He was just a stupid boy that your stupid heart fell for. No big deal.

The next week passed in a blur. Unable to switch shifts with anyone else, you called in sick at the cafe and lived life between your university, the library, and your apartment. Never mind that you needed the pay, you could drown in instant noodles for all you cared. It didn’t matter anyway. A broken heart never cared for a full stomach.

That Friday, you were about to call it a night when the doorbell rang. The was odd, you thought, you weren’t expecting anyone. 

“You’ve got the wrong—” you stopped mid-sentence when you saw the last person you ever wanted to see, Jess Mariano holding a bouquet of flowers and books. If it were any other day, it might have sent butterflies to your stomach. Now all it did was fan the flames of your anger because it was much easier to be angry than hurt.

You slammed the door close but Jess stopped it with his outstretched arm. “Are you trying to get yourself injured?” You accused and you hated it, how much you still cared.

“Please, I just need to talk,” he said, pain and sincerity etched in his handsome face.

You sighed and let him in, not wanting to cause a scene at the hallway. “You have five minutes,” you held up your hand for emphasis.

“Fine, five minutes,” he breathed, steeling himself. "Here’s a story for you: I met this girl working at a cafe. She’s smart and quick witted, she never runs out of comebacks. Her smile makes my day and I needed to see more of it so I came up with these games. And damn it, I looked forward to going to work every day because of her.

There was a nagging at the back of my mind to get to know her better. I wanted her to get to know me too, but I have a track record of screwing things up so I sent a letter. Just one couldn’t hurt, right?

Clearly, I underestimated her. One letter was never going to be enough. I loved hearing about her dreams, her stories, the inside jokes we created along the way. Without meaning to, I fell for her. I fell for you. It was never a game for me, all of it was real. Is still real.

When I heard you liked your secret pen pal too, I didn’t know if I should reveal myself or just disappear, let you forget me. Of course, I screwed things up again. I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt you but clearly I have. Would you give me a second chance? I’m not good at this but I want to try."

He’s breathless by the time he ends his speech and you take a moment as the words settled in. No wonder he discouraged your interest in your secret pen pal, which also turned out to be him.

You sighed, “you really screwed it up.” Your heart broke all over again only to come back whole together because he did like you. All those silly gestures he brushed off really did mean something. And the boy you loved through letters and your cafe crush turned out to be the same person.

You pondered his question. The way he went about it was all wrong, but a second chance might be worth a shot. “Fine, we can start over, but you’ll have to make it up to me. You owe me unlimited favors.”

“I'll fix all the toasters you need,” he said, presenting you with the bouquet of flowers and books.

“Oh you’ll have to do more than that. I have a broken bulb on the ceiling, the heater needs fixing, and the microwave will definitely break tomorrow,” you taunted him, accepting his bouquet nevertheless.

He just smiled, “I have a lot to make up for, but I’ll do it for you.” He moved closer to you, bringing the bouquet to rest on the kitchen counter, so he can wrap his arms around you. “You’re worth it,” he whispered in your ear and you hugged him back, fighting off the delicious chill that ran through your back from his words. Being in his arms felt so right.

“You like me,” you sing, teasing him like a child and you enjoy the way his chest rumbles against you as he laughs.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” he said, kissing your cheek. “Besides, you like me back.”

You removed yourself from his hug, already missing his warm embrace. “I never said I liked you,” you teased. 

Mock hurt danced across his features, “what’s not to like?”

You laughed at his arrogance, the need to touch him overwhelming everything else. “Fine,” you relented, “we can call it even.”

You closed the distance this time, “just to be clear, this is you being romantic?”

He smirked, wrapping his arms around your waist again. “Yes, this is me being romantic and I will show you so much more,” he said, bringing his lips to yours with a thousand unsaid promises you were about to discover.

✿ Masterlist

Author's note:

✿ When I came across a Jess Mariano fic, I just knew I had to write one too. Jess and his sarcastic ass in a (sort of) rivals to lovers trope, heck yes. ✿ Thanks to my lovely wife @pizzaapeteer for encouraging me to write this all those weeks ago ♡ ✿ Published this fic from a cafe, very on brand for the story.

[verstappen-cult]

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL | CL16

— 03. THE DRAMA

PREV. PART | NEXT PART — [ SERIES MASTERLIST ]

summary: in which charles has an embarrassing crush on alex's childhood best friend and everyone meddles. content warnings: faceclaim is taylor hill but you can picture her as you’d like! some cursing and a tiny bit of angst because why not. time jump of a month approx.

INSTAGRAM POST

📍 LONDON, ENGLAND — JUN 27, 2023

Liked by alex_albon, landonorris and 897,455 others

yourusername i kinda like it here. ⛳️

view all 7,637 comments

user66 uh excuse me? the second slide???

user67 IS THAT CHARLES ???? user68 I THINK SO

alex_albon i feel betrayed.

yourusername stop being so dramatic

user69 my parents are together i still can’t believe it

user70 oh my god okay it’s happening

user71 everybody stay calm OH MY GOD user72 are they together? user71 girl go on twitter and see

landonorris let’s play and see who’s better

yourusername me ofc

charles_leclerc ❤️

user73 relationship goals

user74 lol we don’t even know if they’re dating user75 they kissed in front of thousand of people AND on live tv what are you talking about

user76 he’s too good for her

user77 who is she anyway. user78 stop being so childish, he’s never gonna date u

user79 who wouldn’t want to date her i mean just look at her

user80 all these people saying charles is too good for her like ??? SHE’S too good for him

user81 she will get bored in a few days mark my words

danielricciardo Ok but who won?

charles_leclerc i won! yourusername charlie don’t lie maxverstappen1 I don’t believe anything he says ever since I won fair and square playing FIFA and he threw the controller at me. landonorris he did that to you too? pierregasly that’s nothing. he threw a padel racket at my head, i still don’t remember anything from that day. charles_leclerc ffs shut up yourusername leave him alone you bullies

user82 i love how all the drivers are calling charles out lol

Y/N’S iMESSAGE

“that’s not how you make pasta!” you’re dying with laughter at seeing charles trying to cook.

“i asked you if i could cook!” charles can’t help but join you in your laughter, leaving the burned pasta aside.

“because you said you knew how to!”

“you better not believe anything i say.” he takes a sip of wine. the one he brought alongside the beautiful flowers that are now adorning your terrace.

“not even when you say how much you like me?” you pout, looking at him beneath your eyelashes.

charles walks the short distance to where you are sitting in the kitchen counter and you happily make room for him between your legs, arms finding your waist in no time.

“you should a hundred percent believe that.”

“mh i don’t know,” you tease, playing with his soft hair. god, you love his hair so much. “i think you should show me.”

“oh i’m definitely going to do that.”

INSTAGRAM POST

Liked by sabrinacarpenter, gigihadid and 566,328 others

yourusername 💐

view all 8,771 comments

user83 that’s one hell of a bouquet

user84 charles knows what he’s doing

gigihadid Can’t wait to see you this weekend!

❤️ by author

user85 i wanna be her so bad :(

user86 If it weren’t for Charles nobody would know who she is. He put her on the map.

user87 this is a grown ass man by the way user 88 i swear to god men are so in love with charles is getting kinda scary

carmenmmundt What a beautiful picture 💛

user89 tired of her comment section being all about charles

user90 fr like they forget she’s her own person user91 I just know she doesn’t like this at all, she’s always speak up about these kind of things user92 if this were to happen the other way around everyone would be insulting her

user93 CHARLES IS WITH HER RN OHMYGOD

user94 what are you taking about user93 LOOK AT CHARLES STORIES HE LITERALLY JUST POSTED THE PICTURES user95 if it wasn’t for the close up of the flowers we wouldn’t even know they’re together user96 he def did it on purpose

user97 the boys, the girls, the gays, they all like Y/N

INSTAGRAM STORIES

landonorris has replied to your story

landonorris: *chandler bing’s voice* can I BE any more obvious? charles_leclerc: just stop watching friends, i beg you

maxverstappen1 has replied to your story

maxverstappen1: Uh, so that’s why you wouldn’t travel with me. Interesting. charles_leclerc: can i use air max for the next race? 🥺

pierregasly has replied to your story

pierregasly: you guys make me sick charles_leclerc: Y/N says to shut up pierregasly: 🤮🤮🤮

yourusername has replied to your story

yourusername: i like this soft launch/hard launch thing charles_leclerc: i bet you like me more yourusername: debatable charles_leclerc: i can make you change your mind 😏

TWITTER — JUN 28, 2023

TWITTER — JUN 30, 2023

TWITTER — JUL 02, 2023

ALEX’S iMESAGGE

TAGLIST (bold means i couldn’t tag you) — @leclerc16s. @willowpains. @berrnuu. @minkyungseokie. @1655clean. @sassyheroneckgiant. @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir. @nessacarty1. @a1leexxa. @storminacloud. @lovstappen. @littlehoneyfreak. @paintedbypoetry. @thatoneembarrasingmoment.

note: hiii besties, take this as an early new years present! this was supposed to be posted after dec 31st but couldn’t leave it in the drafts. there is at least one or two more chapters, so if you still wanna be added to the taglist let me know! <3

[urf1lterr]

moonlight | m.yg [1]

next chapter: soon

summary: when it’s finally the week of your big sister's wedding, you’re more than excited for it to be over as responsibilities come flying your way. however, you can’t seem to stop thinking about a particular groomsman with blonde hair.

pairing: groomsman!yoongi x bridesmaid!y/n

genre: wedding!au, strangers to lovers au | awkward, fluff, angst, mature

word count: 7.4k

status: in progress

author’s note: reposting this bc i miss him. i’ve been wanting to do this for sooooo long but never had time- still don’t but oops.

Sleep is what you really needed right now, especially when you already lacked it in your daily life. But no, that wasn’t really an option right now, not when you had to wait for your sister to pick you up from the airport and get dinner afterwards. 

Realistically, you could’ve slept on the plane ride here, but you hated the seat you were in. At first, you sat in the aisle seat because it was always the fastest way to exit afterwards, but you had to give that up when a man probably in his late 50s basically ordered you to move to the middle because older people need "more" room. 

You weren’t happy, but you weren’t about to argue because of this.

All you wanted to do right now was go to your old bedroom and change into some comfy sweats and an oversized t-shirt before pulling your blankets over your head to sleep in peace. You knew it was not going to happen any time soon, but a girl can wish. 

As you finally saw your suitcases at the baggage claim area, you grabbed one, almost falling by how large and heavy it was. You cursed at yourself for overpacking, but you were staying in town for two weeks and could not risk the chance of not having enough clothes. Luckily, your other suitcase was fairly smaller.

Walking to the other side of the terminal, you saw the exit to the pick up area, immediately moving your legs faster because you couldn’t wait to get out of here. There were too many people walking slow, it surprised you how calm you’ve lasted.

Once you reached a bench in front of the area, you noticed that the weather was not that great. It was raining, which you loved- but your sister planned most of her events outside so this is probably going to make her cry for hours.

And you really don't wanna be the shoulder she cries on- she is very dramatic when she sobs.

Pulling out your phone, you noticed you received three texts. One from your sister, mom, and boss. 

[mom] 5:57pm: were you able to land safely? don’t look tired and try not to be introverted, namjoon’s mother is joining us for dinner. put on some makeup, love you!

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head. You weren’t surprised in the slightest, you knew how your mother was. She didn’t mean any harm, but she loves to impress others. By looking a bit tidy, she thinks people wouldn’t think lowly of us. However, she fails to understand that we’ve known your future brother-in-law’s family for almost six years now, you don’t believe they will call off the wedding by seeing their future daughter-in-law’s little sister bare faced. 

Plus, his mother is the sweetest. If anything, she always told you how much she loved seeing natural faces compared to the overdose of products people nowadays use in which she refers to “tiktok trends.” 

[jae] 6:01pm: the office is going to miss you! tell ur sister congrats again, and then do it again for me once she’s actually married lol. don’t you dare ask if there’s work for you to do it in the next two weeks! 

Laughing to yourself, you quickly replied with a small “thank you, i will tell her,” along with a “darn, now i cant use work as an excuse to get out of wedding duties. but if there is work needed to be done just text me.”

[violet] 6:13pm: almost there!! look out for a black suv. hope u don’t need to go home, kinda planning to go straight to dinner bc our reservation is at 7 and joonie doesn’t want to be late! he’s scared they’ll judge us, see you soon &lt;3

Of course he would think that, coming from the man who thinks texting and walking is rude- it's debatable!

That’s when you looked at the time, noticing that it was exactly 6:20pm. There was still time to make it by 7, you were sure of it.

As you were about to reply to your mom and sister, you heard the sound of tires screeching with constant honks. You looked up, noticing a very expensive-looking suv pulled near the curb, still beeping.

Was this your sister? I mean, it was black like she stated it would be.

Your question was finally answered when you noticed the passenger window being rolled down, revealing two young looking men with bright smiles eagerly waving, the driver still beeping with his other hand causing many people around to glare as they walked by.

You noticed the man with very shaggy hair, wearing what seems to be a white t-shirt, black slacks, and sneakers as he opened the door. “What’s up, y/n,” he smiled, making his way towards you.

“Taehyung? What are you doing here? I thought Violet was going to pick me up- is she in the backseat?” You questioned as he automatically went to grab your bags. “And what is this moron doing here? I thought he got his license taken away last month?”

Looking back to the SUV, you saw your cousin in the driver’s seat with what seems to be him fighting off a man with a bright yellow and green vest knocking violently on his window side. 

“You cannot park here, you’re holding up traffic!” the man yelled, causing your cousin to roll his eyes before rolling down the window maybe two inches before yelling back.

“You’re the one holding up traffic standing in the middle of the road!”

“Don’t make me call security! Park in the parking lot!” The man dragged on, hitting the side of the car repeatedly and motioning his arms to drive away at the same time. 

"Aren't you security?!" Your cousin honked before glaring at the man. “And you scratch my car, you pay for it!”

You stopped watching their little altercation as Taehyung began rolling your suitcases towards the trunk of the car, making you follow along. “She wasn’t able to come, apparently she had to go pick up some materials she ordered for the centerpieces,” he stated, setting the bags inside before closing the trunk. “And I am not sure why he is driving, I think everybody forgot he shouldn’t be and I am too lazy to do it, I was not able to take my nap today because Namjoon made me paint the photo booth all morning- it was exhausting.” 

Opening the passenger door for you, you quickly jumped in as he shut it before jumping into the seat behind you. Turning to your left, you could still see your cousin arguing with the man before Taehyung told him to drive already.

“No! I hope you have a shitty day, you asshole!” Your cousin screamed before speeding away down the street. After literally two seconds, he looked your way while smiling brightly. “I missed you!”

Giving him a dirty glance, you slap his arm. “Ow! What was that for?” He whined, rubbing his arm with his free hand.

“Jungkook, why the fuck are you driving?” you declared. “You’re not allowed”

“Says who,” he rolled his eyes.

“The state,” Taehyung says from the backseat.

Jungkook scoffs, shaking his head. “They can’t do anything, I pay my taxes.”

Groaning, you rub your forehead. “This has nothing to do with your taxes, you imbecile.”

He gives you a confused look for a quick moment before moving his eyes back on the road again. “You don’t need to use big words to attack me, y/n. This isn’t law school.”

You heard Taehyung sighing at how annoying his friend was being. To clear things up, Taehyung was actually a close friend of your side of the family through Jungkook, the two of them being inseparable since kindergarten. 

You just so happened to know him well since he always followed Jungkook everywhere he went, same vice versa, as you saw your cousin basically everyday due to only being one year apart and both your mom’s being sisters. But with Taehyung, you happened to be the same age, same with their other friend in their trilogy, Jimin. In which you were surprised he wasn’t here because Jimin loved going to dinner with them. 

“Why are you driving?”

“I got my license back,” he smiled, nodding heavily when he saw the questionable facial expression you were making. “I swear! I went to the DMV and everything. I got it back after paying like $3,000.”

Choking on your saliva after hearing how much he had to pay, you gasped, “Why so much? What exactly did you do?!”

Jungkook awkwardly moved both his hands on the steering wheel, obviously not wanting to answer your question as you heard his friend chuckling in the backseat. “Yeah, tell her Jungkook, what did you do?”

Throwing a small box of tissues he had left near the middle cup holder to Taehyung, Jungkook began his excuse. “I’m not really sure, apparently it’s illegal to drive through rain puddles,” he shrugged.

You shifted your head a bit, “that’s not illegal.”

“It is when you purposely speed through them to get people wet,” Taehyung giggled as Jungkook groaned in annoyance.

“Dude! You weren’t supposed to tell her that part!” Jungkook whined.

“That is so rude,” you pinched his arm as he tried moving away from you, knowing your first reaction to things were mostly violence. “How would you like it if someone did that to you?”

“I actually wouldn’t mind it,” he stated. “Saves me money from going to a waterpark.”

Sometimes, you wondered what goes on in that big head of your cousin. Not much common sense, that’s for sure.

“Anywho,” you spoke up, trying to change the dumb conversation you just had. “What’s the plan for tonight? I heard something about a dinner, but other than that I have idea what’s going on. No one told me anything.”

Jungkook shrugged, glancing at you a few times as he answered your question. “I know we have dinner with some of Namjoon’s friends, his mom, your parents, and then you sister’s friends. But afterwards, no clue.”

“Why are you and Taehyung going then?” 

He scoffed, looking offended. “I’ll have you know, we are very much indeed Namjoon’s friends,” he proudly said before giving in once he saw how that did nothing. Maybe acquaintances but definitely not friends. “All the groomsmen were invited.”

Ah yes, you almost forgot Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin were appointed groomsmen which was a big shock considering they were not close to Namjoon like that. 

But to be completely honest, your sister did have six bridesmaids while Namjoon only had three real groomsmen he wanted. So, she was able to convince Namjoon to allow the other three to take apart on their special day because they were basically like family.

And because he had no one else to call.

Although, it didn’t take much convincing, Namjoon did love the guys and they all bonded really well whenever they did interact.

“So, Jimin’s going?”

“He should be,” you heard Taehyung answer. “He couldn’t come with us to pick you up because he had to drop his little brother off at baseball practice- but I think their mom is going to pick him up once he’s done.”

You nodded, understanding the situation. To be honest, you were happy the three of them were going. It’s not like you wouldn’t know anyone tonight, maybe only a couple people, but the rest of your family never knew how to make you feel comfortable the same way the boys did.

Maybe its because you basically grew up with them and how you were all close in age, but you felt more open and less forced to act a certain way when they were by your side. 

Throughout the car ride, you had to constantly bicker with Jungkook about slowing down and to avoid potholes as it kept getting in the way of you applying concealer and powder from your seat. You especially yelled when he almost made you smash your mascara wand in your eye, causing Taehyung to hide his laughter as he scrolled through twitter. 

Finally, after small loads of traffic and listening to Jungkook’s ‘go crazy, go stupid’ playlist in which consisted of old Taylor Swift and Hannah Montana songs, you made it to the restaurant. The problem was, the rain was hectic. You’re surprised Jungkook didn’t crash into a pole trying to see through his windshield wipers.

Once you parked, Jungkook sheepishly smiled. “Okay so we have a small problem- nothing serious,” he stated as you gave him a look for him to continue. “We don’t have an umbrella.”

“What-” you and Taehyung said at the same time. “I can’t show up in there all wet, it’s pouring outside!”

“-and I can’t risk getting my shirt wet, I didn’t bring a sweatshirt and I am wearing a white top- my chest will be see through if it gets wet!” Taehyung cried out. “I don’t want people violating me.”

“Calm down, drama queens,” Your cousin rolled his eyes. “Y/n, cover your face with your arms to protect your makeup- that’s the only thing you should save. Taehyung, wrap your arms over your chest, don’t you dare lift them until we are sheltered. We got this guys!”

You scoffed as he cheered you both on. At least you all will be drenched together, you thought. 

Getting ready to jump out of the car, you looked down at your outfit. You were wearing an oversized dark brown crewneck sweater, black thick leggings, and your white platform sneakers. At least you were kind of warm and didn’t have much to damage from the rain. 

Looking back at how far the restaurant was from your parking spot, you three basically had to run the side of the building to get to the front. It wouldn’t have been a problem if it was regularly raining- but as it was lashing down with some now background sounds of thunder and lightening, you knew this was going to be a bad idea. 

Jungkook gave you two a confident nod before aiming towards his door as Taehyung and you gave each other a worried look, eventually doing the same. “On the count of 3!” Jungkook yelled from his side. 

Once we were all ready, hands on the door handle, you heard Taehyung start, “1-”

“-3!” Jungkook screamed and ran out the door, hearing the door lock as he ran his distance. 

Taehyung and you looked at each other in shock before chasing after him. As you took more and more steps, you could tell that this rainstorm was probably one of the worst you have ever encountered.

But to be fair, you should have checked the forecast and remembered to bring your own umbrella. 

After what seemed like minutes, the three of you finally made it to the front of the building in which you were blessed with a roof for your protection. At this moment, you have never been happier. 

Moving your eyes to the two boys standing near you, you noticed how even though Tae’s hair was swamped, he managed to barely get his chest wet. Jungkook’s hair began curling up on the sides, but only that and his shoulders were fairly drenched. 

You tried straightening out your sweater while looking up at Taehyung. “Do I look alright?”

“Yeah, you totally don’t look like you just ran through the rain.” he nodded, even though you could feel your hair soaked. 

“Your makeup still looks intact,” Jungkook added, “but your hair- eh.”

You glared at him as he lifted his hands up in defense. He shouldn’t be talking, his hair was soaked too.

Trying to make yourselves look presentable, you didn’t notice someone rushing near you three, only when you felt a pair of arms wrapping behind you, causing you to squeal.

Moving your head to see the owner of the arms, you immediately hugged them back. “Jimin!”

“Y/n!” he giggled, but suddenly pulled away. “Ew, you’re drenched.” Nodding towards Jungkook, he quickly understood what happened. “Why didn’t you just tell me you guys were here? Jungkook, I texted you that I had an umbrella if you needed one.”

Taehyung and you turned to glare at Jungkook as he turned red and stammered, "I’m sorry, I-I didn’t see the message!”

"Hold on, man. Didn't you just dropped off your brother? It's pouring," Taehyung.

Jimin shrugged, "Do you think the MLB teams stop their games over some rain."

"In some cases, yes."

“Y/n! You’re here!” you heard that familiar voice squeal behind you, followed by a pair of arms once again hugging you. “I would totally not touch you, but I haven’t seen you in three months!”

Smiling, you held your annoying sister until you heard a cough. You let go to see your parents standing near her, your mom pushing her to the side, making your sister almost fall to the ground, before wrapping her arms around you. “Y/n! How was your flight? You never replied to my text, young lady,” she crossed her arms. Oh, how you love when your mother’s mood changes constantly.

She suddenly touched your face lightly, “Your face looks lovely! You’re hair though- uh its alright! The rain is our excuse!” she beamed.

Same old mother, but at least you knew she did not want you to take things seriously. 

You felt your dad lightly wrap an arm around you, giving you a short greeting, probably not wanting to hold up our reservation as well but not because he didn’t want to be rude, he wanted to eat already. 

Noticing no one else was outside, you sister began speaking. “Namjoon, his friends, and mom are inside sitting at the table already. I told them not to wait up on us so we don’t cause much of a disturbance inside.”

Nodding, she then began guiding everyone inside with your parents following directly behind her while Jimin, Tae, and Jungkook walked right along with you. It was a short walk inside, but you noticed that the table must have been all the way in the back, maybe in another room by how far in you all were going.

Being right, you could see that they reserved a private room which was extremely crazy- this must’ve been so expensive for a casual dinner! 

The first person you noticed was your future brother-in-law sitting at the middle of the wide circular table, a seat empty right beside him for your sister you assumed. You identified his mother pretty clearly as she sat on the other side of him.

Your parents quickly sat on the seats right next to where your sister just sat. You moved your eyes to see most of the bridesmaids, who you knew for the longest as they all either went to school or worked with her, sitting right near you parents and across from them. 

There was only one seat next to the last bridesmaid that was opened, so you assumed it was for you as it was across from your sister’s seat. Looking at the boys, you frowned, realizing you would be separated as they only had empty seats on the other side of the table where Namjoon’s mom sat. At least you could look at them from across the table.

Jimin fake pouted before they all walked to the available seats. You finally noticed the three other boys sitting beside them, only recognizing one of them, Hoseok. You were happy to be seated right next to him as you two have met many times in the past, but you couldn’t help but wonder who the other two were and why you weren’t introduced to them earlier. 

Hoseok was actually a close friend of both Namjoon and your sister, in fact, he was the one who introduced them many years ago. He was probably one of the few close male friends your sister even had who she trusted with all her heart who didn’t want to sleep with her.

You also befriended him as he was the only one who wouldn’t complain but encouraged you to hang out with them during their high school days when your sister pulled the ‘hormonal teenager who hates everybody’ phase.

“Nice to see you, y/n. Thanks for coming, I know you must be exhausted from your flight, but it means a lot that you were able to make it,” Namjoon kindly greeted you, in which you smiled in return.

“It’s okay,” you shyly reply, feeling your nerves kick in because you suck at public speaking, even when it’s with people you’ve already met. 

“Now she’s shy,” you heard your cousin stifle in a low laugh before Jimin kicked his leg, in which he groaned in pain, trying not to make any noise as he clutched his knee. 

As you gave Jungkook a dirty look, you began turning, quickly taking a look at the guests you didn’t know. One seemed to look slightly tall, or you assumed he was by how long his torso was. He was very good looking, just not your type.

But the other one was already looking at you, his eyes quickly moving away when he realized he was caught, not seeming to care though. He had very beautiful eyes and bright blonde hair, but he looked very intimidating with his blank- almost cold expression. 

“You look dashing, y/n!” You heard Namjoon’s mom exclaim, making you turn extremely red. God, you hated when people gave you compliments, especially when others were around. You did not like the attention it brought.

“Thank you” you looked down, trying your best to make your face cool down. You wish you were in the rain right now.

“I take full responsibility for her hair not looking the best,” Jungkook spoke up, making you immediately cover your face with your hands, praying he stop talking. “I forgot the umbrella.”

You heard him groan again, maybe from one of the boys kicking him for his irrelevant comments.

“I know the struggle,” You heard one of the unknown guests Namjoon had, the one who looked tall, begin. “I tripped while trying to walk in and landed on a puddle.” This caused you to giggle, happy that he was willing to embarrass himself to deflect the attention off you. “But it’s alright, luckily I had extra pants in my car.”

“Now that you mentioned that uh- fascinating information,” Namjoon awkwardly started. “Y/n, I realized you never met my other groomsmen-”

“Groomsmen? How dare you” You heard the same friend fake gasp, causing Hoseok to groan right beside you. “I am the one and only best man” 

“So, that’s Jin,” Hoseok finally spoke up, rolling his eyes at his friend who you realized probably loved the attention more than you actually knew.

“Oh, hi” you shyly waved as he gave you a cheesy smile. 

“Sorry about him, he’s a little over the top,” Namjoon sweetly mentioned to you, causing Jin to scoff. “-but in a good way!”

Just by observing their attitude towards each other, you can tell Jin was the friend who made Namjoon be more confident and open-minded enough to try new things. He seemed like the hype man of the group.

“And that’s Yoongi,” Hoseok added, pointing to the man on the left of him, the one who looked like he did not want to talk to anybody. You began to realize this Yoongi guy was more reserved than the rest, giving you a small nod as you awkwardly looked away.

“Sorry about him, he seems quiet- but he does talk! Quite a lot actually,” Jin added, causing Yoongi to nudge him. 

“Same with this one,” Violet giggled, looking your way causing you to glare at her. Way to put the spotlight on you. 

Luckily for you, your mother just knew so many topics to talk about that she carried a conversation fairly quickly right after your sister’s comment. 

You would have listened to it all the way, but to be honest, you were mentally exhausted. Work had you up till 10pm last night and with it being such a jammed pack month already, you completely forgot to pack until this morning. Having to check in two bags, you had to arrive at the airport three hours early to make it in time to depart from all the long lines. 

You don’t think anyone beside your dad and Namjoon’s mom were listening to your mom because as you looked around the table, you realized people were either making faces at their friends or just looking anywhere else but the speaker. 

That’s when you noticed Taehyung making a silly face your way, causing you to smile at him. But when you did so, you saw from the corner of your eye the restrained individual placing his eyes on you that didn’t leave until he was about to be caught again.

Yeah, you wished this dinner would be over soon.

-

"That was probably one of the best steaks I have ever digested," Namjoon smiled while wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"Did he just say 'digested'?" you heard one of your sister's friend, Mina you believe, whisper to her other friend, Hani, who just shrugged.

After about an hour of awkward conversations that consisted of when Violet and Namjoon would be making babies and who would take custody if they both randomly die, dinner was finally over.

To be honest, you were glad that you were mostly not chosen to speak. That was until your mother thought it would be a brilliant idea to bring up your personality compared to your sisters, in which she made sure to mention the one time in 4th grade when you threw a tantrum and bursted into tears because you didn't want her to leave you alone on the first day of school.

Violet made sure to clarify how immature you were as a fourth grader, in which you thought if it would really be bad punching her in the face right then and there. You were sure makeup could cover the bruises.

"I should probably get going, I think your father is getting off soon from work," you heard Namjoon's mom say, slowly standing up before giving her son a warm hug.

Following the signs, everyone began standing up, getting ready to say their goodbyes. That was until your sister suddenly spoke up, becoming an announcer.

"Wait I forgot to mention, tomorrow is day 1 out of 7!" she cheered as her fiancee placed an arm on her lower back. "Don't forget to bring your shoes!"

"What's tomorrow?" You thought, but apparently out loud as everyone glanced your way, causing you to look back at Violet.

"You don't know?!" she gasped, looking back towards your mom. "Did you not tell her?" Watching as your mother softly gave her a small smile, your sister's eyes made their way back to you in disbelief. "It's our first dance rehearsal."

"Dance rehearsal?" You squinted your eyes, not believing how in the world she planned to make people learn a dance in under a week. "You do understand your wedding is in 6 days right after tomorrow, right?"

"We couldn't plan practices earlier because you and Jin don't live near here and we didn't want you both going out of your way to get here for it," Namjoon commented. "That would've been too expensive."

Realization hit you, you have to dance...in front of people.

Looking up, you tried showing a relaxed expression, but you're sure you only pulled out an uncomfortable one at the thought of having to publicly dance when you are in fact the worse dancer ever.

Truth be told, you wish you can easily agree and go with the flow, but knowing yourself the best you know you cannot pull this off. There is a reason why you dropped dance class in high school and it was because you kept making your partner's toes bleed from stepping on them so much.

But before you could speak up, or as if you were going to, your sister beat you to it. "You're doing it, no exceptions," she pointed a finger at you.

"You can be my partner!" Jimin exclaimed, wrapping an arm over your shoulder, trying to cheer you up. "I'm a great dancer."

"I beg to differ," Taehyung crossed his arms. "Have you seen these hips? Been shaking them since I was eight years-old."

"Just Dance doesn't count," Jimin hissed, making Tae scoff.

"It does when you're undefeated!"

Before the two of them could continue their bickering, your sister intervened. "None of you are dancing with her, I've already assigned partners," and right when they were going to ask who she added, "and you're not finding out until tomorrow. I don't want you trying to ask us to privately change your partners tonight so deal with it."

That definitely made them shut up before she carried on saying farewell to everybody.

You being you, you stood there stiff as everyone hugged each other. Never knowing how to really say 'bye', you often just waved. It was your thing.

You felt large arms wrap around you, causing you to gasp for air from the tight hold. "It was so nice meeting you, y/n!" You heard Jin burst out before pulling away. "Hoping we end up as partners, you seem so chill."

Certain that that was not going to happen, you sheepishly nodded. Not that you did not want him as a partner, to be fair, you probably would have chosen him as one of your top choices if it were up to you only because he seemed friendly and welcoming.

However, he was the best man.

Everybody knows the best man always gets paired with the maid of the honor, in which you believe was Naile.

Once he moved passed you to say his goodbyes with your parents, you noticed Yoongi finishing his farewells with Namjoon's mom before turning in your direction.

Shifting your eyes somewhere else in the room, you felt a weird feeling in your stomach.

For some reason, interacting with someone else who is also quiet but now intimidating made you extra nervous, fearful they might randomly lash out on you.

Just before Yoongi could at least give you a small nod, like he had done earlier, Namjoon announced that we should all be on our ways as the restaurant probably wanted us gone by now.

Running up to Jimin, you followed your friends and cousin out the door. Not noticing the pair of eyes following your every move up until you were out of sight.

Finally, now you can go home and sleep.

-

Waking up this morning was hard for you, especially when you knew how stressful it was going to be.

Maybe it was because you knew what was to come but didn't at the same time. It was safe to say you were panicking the whole drive to the small park your sister booked for the morning.

However, your sister was nothing close to nervous, in fact, she was beaming in joy throughout the car ride, constantly telling you she was excited to be a day closer to her wedding.

"Don't freak out too much about practice, okay?" Violet began as she parked the car. "None of them have experience dancing, except Hobi and maybe like Jimin and whatever Tae thinks is dancing, but other than that we all suck."

"Thanks for the pep talk, I feel so much better," you sarcastically declare before opening the door and getting out.

"I'm serious! I know you well enough to see how anxious you are about this," she argued. "But I made sure to pick an easy dance we all can learn within a few days"

You only sighed. There was nothing you could really do at this point so there was not much convincing she was doing to make you feel better. Plus, it's her day. You kind of have to do whatever she wants whether you like it or not.

Following her to a medium-sized building, you noticed how nice this park really was. There was a huge duck pond on one side with a beautiful garden all around.

Where does she find these places?

As you two opened the doors, she led you down a hallway until you were walking into a pretty large banquet room. You saw mostly everyone was here, besides Jin and Namjoon, but other than that everyone was here.

"Where's my man?" Your sister questioned, setting her bag on one of the side tables as you closely followed behind her.

"Trying to figure out where he put his dancing shoes," Hoseok stated, lying back on the chair he was sitting in. "Hi, y/n."

You softly waved, seeing that Taehyung and Yoongi were sitting right next to him. Tae was too busy playing some game on his phone to notice your presence as Yoongi just gave you a brief glimpse before going on his phone as well.

"What took you forever to get here?" Jungkook asked, pulling up a seat right next to you on one of the empty tables you sat in. You felt Jimin sit next to him, waiting for your answer.

"Violet couldn't leave the house without shaving her face," you whispered, hoping she didn't hear that or else she would come up with something 10x worse to joke about you.

"I did notice something was different about her," Jimin joked, making you all laugh.

After talking for some time as your sister kept trying to call her fiancee, you heard the slam of a door with the sounds of footsteps nearing.

It appeared that Namjoon probably found his shoes with the help of Jin as they both ran in together, breathing a little heavy as your sister put her hand on her hip.

"Ready," he smiled, trying not to provoke your sister anymore.

Knowing your sister, she was probably going to hire some dance teacher to teach you guys proper techniques. What you did not know was that this instructor was going to make you freestyle your own ending steps with your partners.

Or at least that's what the instructor mentioned after they showed up fifteen minutes late due to "traffic."

But now that they have said it, no one knew who their partners were.

"Time for the moment everyone's been waiting for," your sister stomped her feet and motioned everyone to come near her. Once we did so, she asked, "who wants to know first?"

Jungkook raised his hand quickly. "Me!"

"I think we should make this a little fun," Violet smirked. "Let's write the pair's names on paper, randomly mix them in a bowl and then draw."

Namjoon nodded, not really caring too much about how this was going to be done. He just wanted to begin lessons, already knowing that he wasn't quite the best when it came to body movements only for the world to see.

You were despising every second of this. As the clock kept on ticking, you kept thinking about who your partner would be.

It's not like anyone here was truly horrible- or so you thought.

Plus, you had a high chance of getting the three boys you loved to death. However, your sister did say Jimin and Taehyung were out of the picture, so your only hope was your cousin.

But in your opinion, you weren't familiar with Namjoon's friends. Jin seemed like a sweetheart, but maybe the close proximity of dancing with someone who was practically a stranger was getting in your head.

The main person you were worried about was Yoongi.

It's not like you completely disliked him, you never dislike anyone unless you had a reason to. It was that you didn't know him.

You didn't know Jin either, but the difference was Jin made an effort to communicate to others. Yoongi just sits there with a blank expression, making you question if he is judging or ignoring you.

It's quite intimidating, really.

And with you being extremely quiet too, well... two quiet people don't really work well- or in a situation where both have to actively dance.

"Jimin and Leia!" you heard Namjoon announce.

Damn.

"Sorry, y/n," Jimin mouthed, making you swat your hand in reassurance that you were fine. I guess he's known you for so long to understand how frightening this was for you.

But you're a big girl, you'll get through this.

"Taehyung and Yuna!" Your sister roared.

Okay, maybe not.

Finally, after Hoseok and Jin were called, your nerves were getting to you. Now was not the time to overthink, whatever happens- happens.

Jungkook wasn't making this easier as he kept waving his arms around, mouthing the words "we're definitely partners." And for a split second, you began to believe him.

Well, that was until-

"Y/n and Yoongi," Namjoon called out, making your face fall. Violet began clapping her hands while her fiancee proudly smiled.

Feeling your face turn red, you continue staring at Namjoon as he slowly tilted his head to the side for you to go to your new partner, in which you responded with continuing on your stare.

It felt like hours before you felt someone's presence beside you, causing Namjoon to fix his attention back to announcing who's Jungkook's partner was going to be.

Moving your head slightly to the right, you could make out the bright blonde hair immediately. Yoongi was sitting next to you, oh my-

"I guess we're uh- partners?" he lightly squinted his eyes before looking directly at your own.

You felt weak at the knees by this eye contact, how are you going to make it through the week?

"R-right," you began, mentally screaming at yourself for stuttering "I mean right! Yeah, how uhm..cool?"

"Not really," he sighed, making your eyes widen. Was he really not that happy by this decision? "I don't dance much"

Relief hit you by his answer, okay maybe he doesn't hate you. "Don't worry, I'm on the same boat."

"Namjoon knows I don't do any of this," Yoongi cringed to himself. Does he mean dancing? "I'm sure your sister knows you aren't great either, they should have just partnered us up with someone who wasn't going to make us look humiliating."

Ouch, that stung.

You shut your mouth, not sure what to reply. You understood his point, but at the same time you didn't. It was beginning to become clear now that maybe he wasn't happy with this setup.

"Are we ready to begin?" you heard the instructor exclaim, causing you to look past Yoongi in which you were grateful this small conversation would have to be cut. "Please come forward and spread out, only your partners should be near you!"

Rubbing your fingers, you slowly followed after Yoongi who took the lead towards the middle of the spaced out "dance floor," or the only area in this room that did not have folding tables. The two of you ended up on the side while the others placed themselves throughout the middle and front of the teacher.

After listening to him ramble on about the needed chemistry between partners and showing how our hands must be placed on his practice dummy, who was Namjoon- which Violet did not like, it was time for everyone else to follow.

"Remember, the men are the leads! Take your lady's hand with your left and place your right on her hip! I want to feel the sexual tension from here!"

"Or a comfortable tension," Namjoon interfered.

Looking up at Yoongi, you saw him dully take his left hand out to grab your right one. By his lack of emotion, it triggered you to malfunction and embarrass the hell out of yourself.

He could feel how stiff your body was once he grabbed your hand, beginning to place his right hand behind on your mid back.

"Closer!" the instructor popped out of nowhere, causing you to flinch and almost trip over Yoongi's shoes. Yes, you just stepped on his shoes- he probably hates you now. "Hand on hip! You'll get the rhythm faster."

"No thanks, I'd rather not," Yoongi plainly stated, but was pushed inches away from your face when the instructor pushed you both forward.

You tried your best to look anywhere then at him, but it was incredibly hard. You did catch him throwing out a few glances a few times, but he would always divert his attention somewhere else when he noticed how uncomfortable you reacted to it.

"Do y-you think we should do what they are doing?" You asked, referring to steps that were just given to follow. Everybody else were figuring out the new footwork, but your partner just stood there as if he wanted to die already.

He simply just ignored you, only looking at what Jungkook and his partner were doing. In which, your cousin was swinging the poor girl around while she tried to slow him down in fear.

God, you wish this was over already.

-

"So...how did you like it?!" Violet questioned, sitting down on the bed in your old bedroom while you hid under the blankets. "It was fun, huh?"

"You call that fun?" You groaned, sitting up. "I want a new partner."

"What? No way! Yoongi will be hurt you wanted to switch."

"How if he was the one who questioned why we weren't switched in the first place?"

Violet gasped, "He said that?"

Nodding, you wiped some hair away from your face. "He also refused to put his hand on my hip. Is my body too gross for him or what?"

It did hurt your feelings he wouldn't listen to the basic suggestions, but if he didn't want to then there was nothing you could do.

"Maybe it was a respect thing- like to make sure he wasn't crossing any boundaries?"

Thinking about it for a second, she could be right.

"We just don't mix well, he would just ignore me any time I asked questions or spoke up," You sighed. "Please change my partner-"

"-I can't, we already began rehearsals," She cut you off.

"But we only learned basic steps! I can dance with a whole other human being and get it down with them! Please, please-"

"-no-"

"I can tell he despises every minute of this," You whine. "He's not into it and I'm just holding him back! You already know how scary this is to throw myself out there for this dance, at least let me be with someone who seems comfortable with me. It'll make me less anxious."

Your sister gave you a look, taking her time to think hard about this. She wanted you to feel fully comfortable, but it would be so unfair to switch partners the next day after announcing them.

"You know I want you to feel at your best, but the decision has been made and I-"

"If you let me switch I'll clean your room for a year," You rambled.

She rolled her eyes, "nice try, you don't even live nearby!"

"I'll send you money to buy your favorite meals twice a month!"

Violet gave you a stern look. "Y/n, no means no. I-"

"I'll say a speech at your wedding!"

That made her shut up.

This shocked you too because you avoided this topic from the start when she told you she was engaged. You hated talking, better yet- talking in front of people? No way, impossible to do!

"You would never, you can't even order your food without stuttering."

She didn't have to come at you like that..

"I promise!" you begged, jumping in front of her as she rolled her eyes.

Hearing her sigh, you felt weight being lifted off your shoulder. "Fine! You can have Hoseok, he's a quick learner anyway."

Almost making your sister fall off the bed as you tackled her in a hug, you cheered. "Thank you! Thank you! Tha-"

"Shut up already," she scrunched her face, pushing you off harshly. "I'm only doing this because you seem to feel really uncomfortable being near him and my sister instincts are going off."

You nodded quickly, trying to be on your best behavior so she doesn't change her mind.

"It kind of sucks though," she shrugged. "Namjoon and I thought you would be the perfect fit, you two are so alike"

"Being antisocial doesn't automatically mean we'll hit it off."

"Sorry, wouldn't know what that's like," she smiled and stood up from your bed. "I'm gonna go check on mom and the centerpieces, you should text Hobi a heads up for this week."

Once she left the room, you pulled out your phone to text him. You hope you weren't being a total bitch for doing this, but you doubt Yoongi would get offended.

He was the one who suggested it.

[louloulemons-posts]

Missing You

Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader

Summary : Eddie misses his favourite girl.

Word count : 0.7k

Warnings : Toothrotting fluff, Eddie being clingy, pet names, minor mention of sex, minor angst if you squint, a kiss, reader calls Eddie Edward lmao, fluff fluff fluff.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“See you later Wayne,” Eddie shouted out to his uncle as he headed off to his night shift. He heard the older man speaking to his favourite girl as he went.

“Hey Wayne,” said her sweet voice.

“Hiya Sweetheart, you have a good night okay.”

“You too, don’t work too hard.” Wayne’s soft laugh echoed through lightly and he heard the front door shut again.

Sliding her shoes off and putting her bag down on the couch, she called out for her boy, “Eddie.”

“In here baby.” Soon enough his bedroom door was pushed open and there stood his love.

“Hey pretty girl,” he smiled softly, she was slightly disheveled, hairs sticking out wildly, but still so beautiful. “Whatcha working on?” she motioned to the guitar on his lap. “Just trying to figure out this piece, but it doesn’t matter, come to me.”

He placed the red guitar on the bed next to him, and held out his hands to her. Walking into his space he rested his head on her stomach, wrapping his arms around.

“How was work?” he mumbled.

“Same old, Saturday shift so busy,” she smiled, running her hands through his curls. “Missed you,” he spoke gently.

“You okay?”

“Can’t I miss you?”

“No you can, just wondering. Let me get changed and we can cuddle okay?”

He whined as she pulled herself from his hold. “The sooner I get changed the sooner you can have me back,” instantly he let her go, so fast that she stumbled slightly. “Jesus babe,” she laughed.

Taking her clothes out of her designated draw, Y/N spoke, “What do you want to do tonight? Steve and Robs are heading to the movies after work, we could join them?”

“I thought we could stay here, hang out.”

Popping her head through the shirt she cocked her brow, “Okay what’s up with you?”

“Nothing!”

“Edward,” she sighed, walking back over to him, now in sweats and an old tee, “baby what’s up?”

Taking his face in her hand she met his beautiful chocolate eyes, like a baby cow she’d tease. “I just miss you.”

“Eddie I’m right here. We see each other nearly every day. At school, we hang after school, I come here.”

“But it’s never just us anymore! It’s us and other people : Dustin, Gareth, Robin, Wayne, god damn babe, even Steve Harrington,” he exclaimed, flailing his hands dramatically.

“Are you trying to tell me you’re horny?” and asked, softly rubbing her thumbs on his cheeks, “Babe we can fix that.”

“No! It’s not that, I mean I love doing that, but I just want you .. just us, to spend time together. I miss you,” he closed his eyes, embarrassed by the outburst.

Gently she sat down on his lap, legs wrapping round his waist, pulling his head to rest in her neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“What? Eddie no! You have nothing to be sorry for. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than lay in bed and cuddle with you.”

“Really?” he asked, coming out of her neck to look at her face. Nodding, smiling slightly, “Really, I love spending time with you Eds, you’re my favourite person. Honestly I’ve been missing you too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I feel like with work, and school and friends. We’ve been seeing each other but we’re not really SEEING each other, you know?” she explained.

“Exactly! I just miss us.”

“Hey, you listen to me Edward Munson, we are still us, we just need to be us in private rather than with other people. I have an idea,” she said, as he gently played with the hem of her shirt. “Hm?”

“I’m gonna go call Robs, get her to cover for me, then I’m gonna call my mom and tell her I’m with Robin.”

“Why would you do that?” he asked as she stood up from his lap. “Because we are having a sleepover, and tomorrow we’re gonna hang out all day, and you’ll be so sick of me!” she grinned, kissing his cheek.

Turning around to run to the phone, she was pulled back by Eddie who stood up. Taking her face in his hands he kissed her softly, “I love you so much my sweet girl.”

“I love you Eddie Munson. Now put your guitar away, I’m you to be ready for cuddles when I’m back.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading, feel free to leave any requests 🤍

[s-soulwriter]

Writing Angsty Scenes Without Making Them Cringe

Alright, so we all love a good angsty moment, right? That scene where everything feels like it's falling apart, emotions are running high, and your character's world is just burning around them. But… writing those scenes without slipping into "oh no, not this again" territory? Yeah, it can be tricky.

Angst is powerful, no doubt, but it can get cringey fast if you’re not careful. So, how do you make your readers feel the hurt without rolling their eyes at the drama? Here are some thoughts (because we’ve all been there)

1. Keep It Real No one—and I mean no one—has perfectly poetic, life-altering thoughts while they’re in the middle of an emotional meltdown. If your character’s going through it, make sure their reactions feel raw, maybe even messy. Show us their confusion, anger, and fear in a way that makes sense for them. Don’t just throw in a monologue about the meaning of life or have them collapse in a rainstorm. (Unless it’s really necessary. Then, okay, fine, but be careful!)

2. The Little Details Hit Harder Sometimes, it’s the small, unexpected details that pack the biggest punch. Instead of a dramatic sobbing fit, maybe your character’s hands shake as they try to make a cup of tea or they notice a tiny crack in the wall that they never noticed before because they’re spiraling. It’s those little, relatable moments that make the angst feel real, not overdone.

3. Embrace the Quiet Moments It doesn’t always have to be yelling or crying to show that your character is struggling. Silence can be loud. Sometimes it’s the things unsaid that carry the most weight. Maybe your character withdraws, or they’re stuck staring at the ceiling for hours. A pause in the conversation, a long sigh, or a blank stare can be just as gut-wrenching as full-on breakdowns.

4. Avoid the Obvious Clichés (If You Can) Okay, this one’s a bit tricky. It’s not that you can’t ever have rain scenes or broken mirrors (I see you, “symbolism”), but if you’re gonna go there, give it a twist. Maybe instead of staring out a window during a storm, they’re in a brightly lit, overly cheerful room that just doesn’t match how they’re feeling. Play with contrasts. Make the environment work against their mood rather than mirroring it perfectly.

5. Let the Angst Breathe Don’t feel like you need to dump all the angst in one scene. Let it stretch out a bit. Give your characters space to process (or fail to process) over time. A lot of times, readers will feel more for a character who’s quietly unraveling over several chapters than one who explodes all at once. It makes the eventual breakdown hit harder when it does happen.

6. People Are Weird When They’re Hurting They joke at the wrong times. They say things they don’t mean. They shut people out, or they get way too clingy. Don’t be afraid to make your characters react in unexpected or contradictory ways—people do that when they’re feeling too much. Let your characters be complicated, because real people are.

7. Subtle Can Be Stronger Not every angsty scene needs a screaming match or someone running away dramatically. Sometimes, a single line of dialogue or a character’s slight change in expression can hit like a freight train. Try letting things simmer. Hold back when it feels like you should go big, and you might surprise yourself (and your readers) with how much more intense it feels.

[niningtori]

for the hope of it all | parts i-iii

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, choi soobin x you

summary: you've been in love with beomgyu since the first time you saw him, but he sees you as nothing more than a good friend and faithful wingwoman. when he asks you to help him catch another girl, who just so happens to be one of your closest friends, things get complicated.

genre: ANGST, melodrama, romance, smut (mdni), fluff at the end

warnings: smut (mdni), beomgyu is a fucking asshole but he gets better, manipulative!gyu, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering (vaginal), oral (f. receiving), dom!gyu, dirty talk, praise, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 18.7k

notes: ... hi. literally nobody asked for this, but i realized that part 2 of this work didn't even show up in the tags, so i decided to compile all of the previous parts as well as the ending together. hopefully, you all enjoy this. i'm still struggling, but i pray you all still like it even if it's not me at my best. feedback is always appreciated :) thank you!

part i: august

beomgyu really likes her — like, really— and who can blame him? you certainly can’t. chaewon is a lovely, lovely girl, so it should come as no surprise when beomgyu asks you to, in his words, help him bag her. you’re not one with a particularly strong character at the best of times, so when he practically begs you to convince one of your closest friends that he’s actually not the heartbreaking manwhore he definitely is, you can’t find it in yourself to say no.

it doesn't help that he has enough charisma to charm even the most indifferent target he sets his eyes on, it doesn't help that he's so handsome it makes everyone either want him or want to be him, and it most certainly doesn't help that you've been in love with the boy for the entire time that you've known him. him asking absolutely anything of you would result in you relenting, so when he asks for something as seemingly inconsequential as setting him up with a mutual friend, accepting it is a matter of course. does it hurt your heart to see him pining after someone else when you basically consider him as your soulmate? of course. but his happiness means more to you than your own. if she makes him happy, then so be it.

that's what you tell yourself, at least.

-

beomgyu doesn’t know that you love him — he can’t possibly know — or else he’d treat you differently, right? you don’t want that. you don’t want anything to change, at least not in the disastrous way you anticipate confessing your love to him would go, so you’ve kept your feelings close to your chest to keep him from suspecting anything. you think you’ve gotten pretty good at concealing your feelings. for example, you laugh when he tells you about his sexual escapades, and you don’t hesitate to give him advice on how to woo the girls who are wary of his lasciviousness. you only want to show him the good parts of you, carefully tucking any ugly seeds of jealousy or sadness away from his prying eyes.

the thing is, though, beomgyu is not stupid; and to your never-ending misery, you are not the greatest actress. he can see the crestfallen look on your face for the split second before you can contort your features into a smile. he can hear the tremble in your voice as you force out a laugh. with his godforsaken intuition, he can sense the hesitation in your movement when you playfully push him aside as he over-dramatically recounts his latest raunchy fuck. 

all of this has no discernible consequence, though. if anything, your feelings have been his faithful friend and ally when it comes to conspiring with you to land whatever girl piques his interest at the moment. you may not be a prospective partner, but you are a great wingwoman, he’ll give you that much. and that’s exactly what he needs when dealing with chaewon, who has proven to be a particularly tough nut to crack. he doesn’t usually go for people he would consider friends, if only because he doesn’t like dealing with the messy aftermath, but her refusal to look his way is just too entertaining. he has no earthly idea why this cat and mouse game intrigues him the way it does, but he’s hooked like none other, especially because her reasons for pulling away when she’s definitely as attracted to him as he is to her are unclear. maybe she just doesn’t want to seem easy? whatever it is, he likes it. he likes her.

-

“so what's the plan?” soobin asks. 

“what do you mean?” you blink as you turn towards him, effectively taken out of your daze. you've been staring at a new instagram picture of beomgyu for at least ten minutes now. there's not much going on in it — it's just a candid taehyun took of him — but you can't stop the yearning you feel in your heart as you wish you had been the one to take it, instead.

“i mean, what's your big plan to ‘help’ him this time?” there’s a trace of resentment in his tone as he puts air quotes around “help”. you know he thinks you're just wasting your time on a boy who will never feel the same way you do, but what can you do? you still love him.

“i’m… i’m just going to talk him up to chae, no big deal,” you say rather unconvincingly, because it is a big deal. it’s the biggest deal in the world to you.

“and what are you gonna say? ‘hey, i know you know beomgyu is garbage, but deep down, he’s actually not garbage even though, even deeper down, he really is?’” his words are sarcastic and, for lack of a better term, downright hateful. 

“he’s not garbage, binnie,” you chastise. “he’s actually really sweet once you get to know him.”

“sweet? sweet how, exactly?” he sneers. you just sigh and shake your head. beomgyu is a frequent point of contention in your friendship with soobin, but you don’t know how to overcome it. mostly, arguments surrounding him devolve into conversations like the one you’re having right now. 

“he puts on a tough act, but he’s not really like that on the inside,” you insist. “you just don’t know him like i do.”

“and thank god for that,” he snorts, and you frown. you can tell he feels guilty by the way his expression immediately softens. 

“hey, i’m sorry,” he says, tucking your hair behind your ear. “i just don’t like to see you hurting.”

“i’m not hurting,” you lie. “i’m totally fine. it’s just… i just want to see him happy.” you actually do mean that last part. beomgyu, though seemingly carefree, is actually a lot more insecure and sensitive than one might think. you know this because he’s shown you that side of him many, many times, which must mean that he trusts you like no one else. you are honored to be the one he feels comfortable with, and even if it never amounts to anything more than that, you’re thankful you get to see how he really is. 

“and you think being with a new girl every week will make him happy?” he softly asks, no edge to his voice, but his words hurt even more than they did before.

“it's different this time, binnie. i'm serious. i've never seen him like this before. i think he really likes her.” and the words almost kill you to say, but you mean them, anyway. 

“okay,” he relents. “just do what you want to do. i’ll be there for you no matter what.” 

“thank you,” you reply with a small smile, before putting your nose back into your phone and staring at beomgyu’s pictures again. you don’t catch it, but soobin sighs as he watches you. 

-

you’ve been trying really, really hard. usually, all you have to do is talk about good points about beomgyu, and women fall for it hook, line, and sinker. chaewon is not most women, though, and she makes that abundantly clear with the polite smiles and airy laughs she gives you when you try to bring up beomgyu. 

you don't get it. if you had beomgyu’s attention, you’d never let it go, so it makes no sense to you how someone could have it without taking the opportunity to seize it. if it were you, you’d seize it. if it were you, you'd tell him you’ve loved him since the first time you saw him. if it were you — well, it doesn't really matter, does it? because it isn't you. still, you can’t help but dream.

the sentiment that it will never be you becomes clearer and clearer as you watch beomgyu try to initiate conversation with chaewon at his very own house party you are currently attending. you watch from the sidelines as they sit uncomfortably close together, legs flush against one another, as beomgyu wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her in to whisper in her ear. you like to think you’re content with him being with her even if it means you’ll be without him, but it’s difficult to feel that way when you actually see it playing out before you. your heart feels like stone weighing heavily in your chest as she giggles at whatever he says, and you think that things might start looking up for him before her smile suddenly melts into a little frown. 

without warning, she pries his arm off of her and gives him a perfunctory smile before standing up and smoothing out her skirt. then, she grabs her drink from the coffee table and he's left alone. his previously delighted expression is now filled with irritation and disappointment. you're still staring at him, just trying to get a read on the situation as you're left reeling, and before you know it, he's looking up at you. you're a little embarrassed at being caught, but you realize you can play your intrigue off as objectively analyzing the situation in order to help him better. surely he’ll fall for that, right? every time you say something similar, he buys it with no further questions.

he makes eye contact with you then nods towards his room as a silent plea to talk to him in private. if someone were to ask you how you’re able to deduce all of that from one look alone, you’d probably say it’s because you know beomgyu like the back of your hand — and maybe you do, but it’s like a subconsciously trained reaction more than anything. just as you know what beomgyu will do next, he knows you’ll understand his seemingly innocuous gestures. 

you head up the stairs and beomgyu shuts his bedroom door behind you. you prepare to launch into your readymade explanation as to why you were rubbernecking earlier, but he speaks before you can say anything at all.

“why isn’t it working?” he huffs. “did you talk to her like i asked you to?”

“yes, of course i did!” you eagerly insist. you would never lie to beomgyu — well, not about this, at least. your secret feelings are another story. 

“then why does she keep rejecting me?” he huffs. you wish you could answer him. truly, you do. you scramble for the right words, but you sincerely can't wrap your head around her logic, or lack thereof. 

he’s still waiting for an answer, though, so you think back to the recent conversations you’ve had with soobin, and you realize there’s only one plausible conclusion. 

“she just doesn’t know you enough, beoms. if she knew how you really are and how much you like her, she wouldn't act this way; but honestly, she probably thinks you’re just messing with her,” you explain, and you hope beyond hope that he doesn’t take it the wrong way. you don’t want to hurt his feelings by suggesting that his (newly) former playboy ways could be ruining his chances with her.

beomgyu’s feelings, of course, are not hurt. in fact, he just feels more annoyed than anything else. it’s really fucking irritating how he can’t seem to get a read on her or her intentions. she likes him, he can definitely tell, so what’s the problem with him having a messy past? it’s clear that it doesn’t bother you. well, it does, but in a different way. you’d forgive his previous transgressions in a heartbeat if it meant that he’d look your way, so why can’t she be the same? but then, he supposes that comparing someone as lovesick as you are to a normal girl is a bit unfair. 

but why are you so lovesick? it’s obvious that he’s handsome and funny, so falling for him is only natural, but your devotion is on another level. not only that, but you’re devoted in spite of the fact that he clearly wants nothing to do with you. in all honesty, it’s almost like you love him even more when you see him chasing after somebody else... then suddenly, the solution is clear. he has to make her think he doesn’t want her; and the easiest way to do that is to pretend he’s interested in someone else. in the same vein, who better else to pretend with than one of chaewon’s closest friends? you’re absolutely perfect for the job.

beomgyu’s demeanor goes from irritated to self-satisfied, and it puzzles you to no end. maybe he figured out a way to show his true feelings for her? but then why is he looking at you with such intensity? he’s never looked at you this way in the many years that you’ve known him. wait, did he realize something?  please, god, don’t let that be the case. you really don’t think you can —

and your train of thought is stopped when beomgyu strides over to you and locks the door behind you. you look up at him with confusion in your eyes before you finally register what that intense gaze of his really is: predatory.

suddenly, his lips are on yours and you’re holding back a squeal. your eyes widen as he cups his big hands around your cheeks and pulls you in even closer. he tastes like alcohol, which is to be expected, but there's a certain uniqueness to his taste that you can't really put into words; and you’re able to taste it even more as his tongue enters your mouth. you groan at the action, and surprisingly, he does, too. 

you always assumed kissing beomgyu would make you feel like everything was finally right in the world, and it does — it really, sincerely does — but there’s also a certain spark you were not anticipating. something a lot more fiery, and it shoots straight to your core as your tongues tangle together lasciviously. beomgyu seems to know this, and he smirks into the kiss before trailing his warm mouth down your neck. you gasp at the sensation, which just makes him laugh. 

his hands have traveled from your cheeks to your chest, one staying there to grab at your tits while the other one carelessly finds its way up your skirt. 

“so wet,” he whispers in awe when he rubs his fingers against your soaked panties. “is this all because of me?” you feel your cheeks warm and you’re stammering out your next words.

“w-well, i —” 

“is this all because of me?” he repeats, and you give him a feeble nod before covering your face in shame.

“cute,” he snickers, and your previously warm cheeks are now scorching to the touch. 

he moves your panties to the side and rubs against your sensitive clit, which sends pulsations through your entire body, but that’s nothing in comparison to how you feel when he presses a finger into your dripping hole. 

“you’re so tight,” he whispers, lust clearly written all over his face at the prospect of being in your pussy relatively soon; but he wants to enjoy this, he wants to enjoy the way your face screws up as he presses his finger so deep, he’s hitting places previously untouched. he slowly pulls it out, grazing your most sensitive spot with ease before adding another digit in, making you almost groan from the stretch. you bite your lip to avoid making such a sound, but beomgyu pays your attempted discretion no mind as he starts to hammer his fingers into you at a brutal pace. 

it doesn’t take long for you to come undone around his skilled fingers, and once you’re done pulsating around him, he takes them out for a taste. 

“so good,” he remarks, and though your breathing is heavy and your eyes are hazy, you still have it in you to feel embarrassed. he takes your smaller hand in his and leads you to his messy bed, carelessly sweeping every loose item — a t-shirt here, an old cd there — off of it in one go. he lays you down and hungrily licks his lips once he strips you down until you’re fully unclothed. 

you’re feeling extremely small in this moment. you know beomgyu has had his pick of the litter when it comes to women, so you can’t help but wonder how you fare in comparison to the literal bombshells he’s been known to take home. mostly, though, you wonder how you compare to chaewon, as awful as that sounds. if you really think about it, there’s no comparison to be made, really. she’s her, and you’re you. what else is there to say, honestly? still, you’re comforted by the thought that you are the one underneath him right now, not her, and he does not seem disappointed in the slightest if the tent in his jeans means anything at all.

before you can think too much about it, he’s practically tearing his shirt off and you can’t help but stare. his torso is lean and a little paler than the rest of him, probably due to the lack of sun. objectively speaking, he’s no greek god or anything similar, but to you, he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. if he notices your awed reaction, he doesn’t say anything or really care, because he is simply too busy studying how perfect you seem to look under his dimmed lights. again, he is delighted at the prospect of being inside of you very soon.

he unzips his jeans and slides them, along with his boxers, off of his slim thighs and you can finally see him completely. his cock is a red so deep it’s nearly purple, with evidence of his lust leaking out of its flared tip. you’ve heard a lot about beomgyu’s physique from stories, his and his hookups’ alike, but nothing prepared you for the real thing. you’re not a virgin or anything, but you’re still unsure of how you’re meant to fit him inside of you. and you have no idea how you’re supposed to approach the subject. 

beomgyu does not seem to understand your internal battle, though, because he wastes no time in lining himself up with your entrance. before he pushes in, though, he drags his cock along your soaking wet seam just to coat himself in your slick. when he feels he can’t take any more of his own teasing, he begins to push in.

“j-jesus christ!” he exclaims as he tries to push his tip through your entrance. “are you a virgin or some shit?”

“nngh — n-no! i-i’m not. i’ve — mmh — i’ve had boyfriends before,” you say as best as you can while dealing with the feeling of him literally fucking you open. you’re worried he’s not enjoying himself in light of his outburst and his decidedly strained expression. 

“god, s-so tight,” he drawls. “feels so goddamn good.” he draws his hips back before pushing in again, further this time, and his words of praise seem to comfort you somehow, because he’s able to sheathe himself completely in you. 

he groans when he feels your gummy walls wildly contracting around him — unsure of what to do with the pleasurable intrusion and working tirelessly to simultaneously push him out and pull him in. you, on the other hand, feel nothing but full. you’re so full you ache, so after a few moments of adjusting, your watery eyes are filled with an insatiable sense of pleading. 

“you okay?” he asks, actually somewhat sweetly.

“y-yes — ah — i just feel w-weird,” you say. “feel so — fuck — full.” your seemingly innocent words drive him to the brink of insanity, so with reddened eyes, he grabs your hips so hard, you know he’ll leave marks in his wake, and without warning he begins drilling into you.

his thrusts are not calculated or intentional in any sense — they’re rough and fast and show his desperation. why he’s so desperate, he has no idea. beomgyu is sleazy even on a good day, so women come a dime a dozen, but he feels an unquenchable need he feels will only be satisfied if he continues to fuck you like a man gone mad. so he does.

your breasts bounce with every thrust and while he wants to grab one, his thirst only makes him want to go even deeper in you, so he employs his hands to manhandling you into a mating press. the new position has him going even deeper, and you can feel him hitting your cervix with each nasty snap of his hips. tears at the sheer feeling of being overwhelmed spring in your eyes and you have to clamp your hand over your lips to keep from crying out.

“let me hear you,” he pleads while gently moving your hand from your mouth and not-so-gently fucking you like a breeding whore, and he’s not sure if he’s saying it because he wants to make sure chaewon hears or just because he desperately wants to hear you for himself. 

“fuck!” you exclaim, tears flowing freely down your cheeks. “s-so big!”

“oh, sweetheart,” he rambles, “who were you fucking before? they didn’t deserve this tight little pussy. they didn’t fuck you like you deserve to be fucked — like a good little whore.” 

“‘m n-not a whore,” you tearily insist, somehow convinced that he means his words. you’re not completely inexperienced, but you’re not a whore, right?

but your innocence only makes him wanna ruin you more, claim you completely. 

“you’re taking cock so well, but you wanna tell me you’re not a whore?” he snickers meanly, and you feel so delirious, you find yourself agreeing with what he says. 

the lewd sounds of skin meeting skin and the sharp knocking of the headboard fill the room, and the heat you feel building up inside of you has you seeing stars. beomgyu pulls you in for a sloppy, wet kiss as he finally lets one of your legs down in order to snake his hand against your clit, which he languidly rolls in the midst of his pistoning in and out of you. 

“are you gonna come for me?” he asks as his lips part from yours. “are you gonna come all over my cock?” 

“y-yes, please,” you sob. “wanna come!”

“then do it, baby. let go for me,” and with the way he’s rolling your clit while fucking into you, you can’t help but comply.

he hisses when he feels you contracting around him, tightening up even more than before and pulling him in impossibly deeper. that’s all it takes, really, before he comes undone himself and sprays his thick, hot load into your spasming pussy. 

he collapses on top of you, and both of you take a few moments just to catch your breath before he pulls out of you with a wince. he’s absolutely enthralled by the way the mix of both of you two’s cum leaks out of you as soon as he does so. he’s almost tempted to swirl it back in and plug you up, but his rational side stops him before he can do anything he’ll regret. 

“are you on the pill?” he asks, and you nod.

“good, go ahead and get a plan b, too. just in case,” he says with a quick kiss to your forehead, and you nod with a delirious smile even in spite of his pedantic words. you’re just so happy you got to sleep with him, be closer to him.

“oh, i almost forgot to actually tell you,” he laughs. “i think fucking you will make chaewon jealous. i think we put on a pretty good show tonight, don’t you?” 

and your heart and your hope and your dignity shatter like nothing else. 

“y-yeah,” you try to reply with a laugh, but it sounds more forced than anything else you’ve ever heard in your life. “it was a really good show.”

-

“you slept with him?!” soobin asks, and he seems beyond frustrated. if you had the guts to look him in his eyes, though, you’d notice just how much hurt is in them. 

“y-yeah…” you mumble, face downcast.

“why? why would you do that? you’re just going to be even more hurt!” he exclaims, and you shrink into yourself even more, not out of fear, but out of pure shame. 

“i don’t know! it all just happened so fast, a-and i, i don’t know, i just couldn’t stop myself,” is all you manage to say. soobin groans at your words. 

“you do realize that getting over him is going to be even harder for you now, right?” he asks, and you finally look up at him for a second before looking back down and nodding, and it’s almost like you’re a child who got caught doing something they knew was wrong.

“i know, and i’m sorry,” you mutter, still struggling to make eye contact, but soobin catches your timidity and his gaze is softened as he pulls your face up to look at him. 

“you don’t have to apologize to me,” he sighs. “i’m just worried about you, you know?” 

“i know, i know. but i’m still really sorry.” and you don’t have to elaborate on why that is because you both know that he’ll be the one helping you pick up the pieces when this situation inevitably breaks your heart even more than it’s already broken, if that’s even possible.

“it’s alright,” he says, pulling you in for a hug that’s so warm and kind you almost burst into tears. “you’ll be alright. i’m here.” 

-

this is a bad idea. soobin would yell at you if you told him what you’re up to, but you don’t want to think about that right now. all you want to think about is how much better you’ll feel after you get your secret feelings off of your chest. up until now, the fear of rejection has made you too afraid to tell beomgyu how you really feel, but things can’t get much worse than they are at present, can they? it’s only been a few days since your hookup with beomgyu, but your love is eating you alive and you doubt that you’ll be able to hold it in for much longer.

things will probably go badly, and he’ll probably be completely blindsided, but the thought of continuing to lie to beomgyu’s face hurts more than anything else ever could. even more than the pain you feel every day that he unconsciously hurts your feelings. maybe this will ruin your friendship, but you love beomgyu, and he loves you, even if it’s not in the way that you want. all you can do is hope that your friendship is strong enough to overcome this.

with that mindset, you find yourself at his doorstep on this particularly cool summer night. you know he’s home because you can hear the faint sounds of whatever movie he’s watching emanating from his door. before you can lose your nerve, you begin to rapidly knock. before long, you hear the shuffling of feet nearing you, and you almost bolt then and there, but he’s quick to open the door when he realizes it’s just you.

“what are you doing here?” he asks, agitation apparent. oh god, were you interrupting something? what if he was working? what if he was sleeping? you should've texted before just showing up unannounced. 

“i-i’m sorry, are you busy?” you ask sheepishly.

“... no,” he says after a slight pause, and he opens the door to let you in. you sit yourself on his couch, posture ramrod straight due to how fucking uncomfortable you are, and you try to steady your breathing as you fiddle with your fingers. 

“is this about chaewon?” he asks, breaking the silence, and your heart aches at the trace of hope in his words.

“n-no, nothing like that. i just —”

“is there any update on that?” he cuts in before you can even get your words out.

“oh, um, not really,” you reply before remembering that something has happened, but you’ve been so out of it, it genuinely didn't occur to you to tell him. “wait, actually, she mentioned that you seem different lately, but she, uh, she’s still… well, to be honest, she’s —” 

“what? she’s still what?” and there’s no patience for your rambling to be seen.

“she’s still not interested in dating you,” you mumble, unable to look him in the eyes when you say it. he’s completely silent after your words, and when you do finally gather enough guts to actually look at him, you really, really wish you had just kept your face down. because he’s pissed. 

“are you fucking with me? she really said that?” he asks, and you nod. 

“why didn’t you tell me earlier?!” and you feel so disoriented at the way things are unfolding that you can barely croak out a reply.

“i-i forgot.” 

“you forgot? jesus christ, if it’s not about her, then why are you here?” he seems angrier than you’ve ever seen him, but his words get you to finally remember what you’re here for.

“i just… i needed to talk to you,” you say pleadingly, looking into his eyes as you try your hardest to give yourself the strength to be honest with him.

“about?” 

it takes all of the courage in your poor little heart to choke out your next words. 

“beomgyu, you know, for the longest time, i’ve —”

“i know,” he impatiently snaps. you’re unsure of what he’s referencing, but you do know he has no idea about the feelings you’ve kept hidden for so long. 

“no. no, you don’t know, actually,” you argue, brave face on, but voice shakier than a leaf. “i just need to tell you that i —”

“that you love me? i know, that’s what i just fucking said,” he sighs irritatedly. “why else would you help me? ‘cause you love me so much, right?” he knows it’s wrong to take his frustration out on you, but you’re so pathetic, you make it too damn easy. you’re the perfect outlet for him to unleash all of his anger.

“you… you knew? this entire time?” you ask incredulously. you feel like you’re suffocating in the face of his callousness and disgust, and the room feels smaller than it did before.

“i mean, yeah. it was kind of obvious,” he muses. your cheeks feel so hot you’re sure you’re on the brink of immolation. it was obvious? if it was obvious, then why did he keep you around in the first place? because you’re useful when it comes to helping him get his dick wet?

“so… so why did you…” you trail off, still finding it inconceivable that the beomgyu you know and love could possibly know about your feelings; and not only are they unreciprocated by him, which you could understand and respect, but they’re nothing more than a fucking joke and means to an end. the end in question being burying himself into other women.

“why did i act like i didn’t know? because i don't feel the same way,” he answers, and you already knew it and knew it well, but that doesn't make it any more digestible to hear.

“y-yeah, but you — how could you still sleep with me? how could you do that to me?” you ask, lips wobbling and voice cracking. you can't believe this. you won't believe this. you have to be misunderstanding something somewhere. there's just no way this is it.

“because it was easy,” he says with a shrug, and your heart shatters into a million pieces. 

because it was easy. 

easy. what a funny word. you don’t think you even fully comprehend what it means in this context, actually. easy, easy, easy, but what part of this has been easy for you? every day, it’s like you’re killing yourself by trying to twist into what he wants you to be. a friend, a confidant, and now, even a lover. but lover is being too generous, isn't it? because he does not love you, not even as a friend, and this discovery becomes clearer and clearer as you think back to every time he’s shown you just how little he cares.

soobin’s litany of warnings come back to haunt you with a vengeance. 

he’s just using you. 

he’s garbage.

he’s just gonna hurt you.

and though you know soobin will take no pleasure in being correct, you can't help but dread the “i told you so” you know he will never be mean enough to say, but will inevitably think.

“i thought we were friends,” you say incredulously, dread and anxiety pooling in the deepest recesses of your heart. “i thought you cared about me” 

and he doesn’t shrug or anything because he doesn’t really need to, but he might as well seeing as how it clearly makes no difference to him. and this is finally how you come to understand that beomgyu is just as bad as everyone says. maybe even a little worse. and he will continue to act like a sociopath for as long as you let him. 

“i-i love you, i really do. but no fucking way. i won’t sit here and let you treat me like shit,” you declare, tears flowing down your cheeks so quickly and steadily you’d probably be unable to wipe them away even if you tried. luckily or unluckily, you don’t even have the strength to find out. 

“you’re going to regret this,” you whisper, and it’s said with such certainty that for a moment, he almost believes you. almost, but not quite.

either way, you’re booking it out of his door before he can even reply.

-

this is everything beomgyu ever could’ve asked for. chaewon is sitting next to him on his bed, eyes dark with lust as she unceremoniously grabs the end of her top and tugs it off. she's beautiful, no doubt about that, but he feels more and more like something is incredibly wrong. 

she leans in to press her lips onto his, but he flinches, scooting almost imperceptibly further away from her on the bed. she falters for a moment before sighing and crawling on all fours to situate herself between his legs. she begins to unzip his pants and tug on his waistband before he frantically stops her.

“w-what are you doing?” he asks, voice shaking.

“blowing you, what does it look like i’m doing?” she replies with a roll of her eyes. “i just wish i had known you wouldn’t be into kissing or, like, actual foreplay, but whatever.” she continues her movement to pull his pants down before he stops her again. 

“what’s wrong?” she asks curiously, before finally realizing that he is, to what would normally be his eternal shame, completely soft. her mouth drops in shock, and in another universe, beomgyu has enough energy to care. but not in this one. in this one, his eyes are teary as he feels an implacable sense of dread he can’t seem to shake off. 

“oh god,” she says with conviction, pulling herself back up and running one hand through her hair. “i knew this would happen.” 

beomgyu, on his part, looks somewhat out of it, but her words bring him back to earth. 

“knew what would happen?” he asks tentatively, sniffling for reasons unknown to him while he tries not to let his tears run over his waterlines.

“i knew you’d act like this because of her,” she says begrudgingly. 

his eyebrows furrow for a second, not because he doesn’t already know who she’s talking about, but because he doesn’t understand the correlation between you and the situation he presently finds himself in.

“think about it,” she says slowly, condescendingly. “who do you trust, like, actually? and i’m not just talking about with getting girls, but with everything.” beomgyu is silent as he tries to comprehend what she's saying, but he’s nothing if not slow on the uptake in regards to human emotion. 

“oh, beomgyu, come the fuck on,” she sighs in frustration. “i mean, when you were stressed about that presentation for your job, who did you call? yunjin told me all about it. she said you spent hours reciting a 15 minute presentation to the girl you supposedly don’t give a fuck about.” ah. he remembers that night, actually, and he remembers it well. he called you in a panic, so you brought over some dinner because you knew he was stressed, but he was so wound up that you didn’t leave and even insisted that he practice with you in order to give him feedback. he spent the whole night repeating the same speech over and over again, but you sat patiently and encouragingly as he repeated the boring, inconsequential drivel to you. you never complained, not even once, and you didn’t ask him for any compensation in the form of him doing something — anything — similar for you, either. even if you had, he realizes, he wouldn't have given any to you, anyway.

“that’s…” 

“and that’s not even all of it. who’s the first one you look for when you walk into a room? and when something good happens, who do you tell first? not anybody else, and i know for a fact that it’s not me, never will be,” she says bitterly. every new point slashes at his heart and ego.

and suddenly, things start making sense, albeit in the worst possible way. beomgyu loves you. his trust and dependence on you all make an awful sort of sense, but in a way, it’s relieving to finally be able to put a name to this feeling. his eyes still feel hot, but not so much because something feels wrong, but because things finally feel right for the first time in forever. he loves you, has loved you, and will continue to love you.

her words resonate with him so deeply, she can read it all over his face. it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he finally understands, but he’s still missing an important fact. the most important fact, even. 

“yeah, i guess you finally get it now. you have feelings for her. and the worst thing is: you treat her like shit.” his eyes widen and the tears that were just threatening to escape are completely let loose. how could he only come to this realization after he already effectively stomped on your heart and your pure intentions? after you’ve made it clear that you don’t want anything to do with him anymore? and he has nobody but himself to blame, really; he practically shoved you away over and over and over again. 

“i-i didn’t mean to —” 

“sure, of course you didn’t,” she says with a sarcastic smile. “whatever makes you feel better for fucking over the girl who’s been in love with you for years.”

-

beomgyu may not know much about the inner workings of interpersonal relationships, but he does know he needs to see you, and he’s smart enough to understand that he needs to apologize. 

but beomgyu has never apologized for anything in his life — not unless you count the times his mother made him grit them out as a child when he would objectively do something wrong, but this is another matter entirely. nobody will be holding his hand as he does it, and he’s not even really sure where to start. but he knows he has to try.

surely there’s a better place to try than at the bar where he currently finds himself, but then, there’s no time like the present. not to mention that he has a sneaking suspicion that you're avoiding all of your mutual friends’ get-togethers for the sole purpose of avoiding him. if the blocking of all of his socials wasn’t enough, the blocking of his phone number certainly was.

it’s not necessarily fate’s fault that he finds himself here, either. he heard from a friend (chaewon) that you’d be here tonight. he sees you from across the bar looking lively and chatty, and he prays that the good mood you seem to be in will help soften the upcoming conversation with him. to his luck, you step out of the bar to take a call, so he slides from his seat with an open beer bottle in tow, and follows you outside. 

your back is turned, and he doesn’t quite hear what you’re talking about over the phone, but he does catch a giggle and a name, soobin’s, and it makes his heart ache. when you hang up, you turn to head back into the bar, but you’re met with his figure. 

“h-hey,” he says, and he wants to smack himself for the casual greeting he still managed to fuck up.

your eyes widen for a moment before they go blank, and you’re pushing past him without a response. 

“i need to talk to you,” he says, voice trembling as he grabs the back of your elbow, which you snatch out of his grip like his touch is poison. 

“about?” you ask curtly, barely even deigning to turn your head to look at him. you have never been so hostile towards anyone, let alone him, and it's making him spiral. 

“i’m sorry. i’m just really, really sorry,” he desperately apologizes. you’re silent for a few moments as you turn to completely face him with your arms crossed, and he’s trying his damndest to read your expression, but he can’t quite make it out.

“okay… and?” is all you say in response, and he fumbles over his words at your nonchalance. 

“a-and, um, i —”

“you know what?” you cut in with an impatient sigh and a wave of your hand. “i don’t care anymore. you’ve said enough.”

“but i —” 

“i don’t care, beomgyu.” and his name is said in such disgust that it sounds to him like it’s a chore for you to spit out. you’re about to turn and reenter the bar when his next words come tumbling out. 

“i think — i know —  i love you,” he says urgently, and your previously unreadable gaze turns into one of pure, sheer amusement. you’re so amused, you laugh, even. 

“what the fuck are you talking about?” you say between giggles.

“i-i didn’t realize it before, but i talked to chaewon, and she even said that i’ve probably always felt that way about you. i know i didn’t show it, but i really do love —”

“okay, just stop. stop it right there, beomgyu. i’m only going to say it just this once, so listen carefully, okay?” you ask, and he fervently nods. 

“okay. you don't know the first thing about love.” and he goes to interrupt you, but you don’t let him. “loving somebody means you put their feelings above your own. what the hell would you know about that?” 

“i’m… i know i was wrong, b-but i —” 

“beomgyu,” you say exasperatedly. “i’m so glad you’re finally reaching enlightenment, and i’m so happy i was cannon fodder for you to use to get there. but i just really, really don’t care anymore, okay? do what you want with whoever you want, but don’t bother me about it anymore, alright?” and he’s so stunned he can’t even form words, but you just shake your head and prepare to leave again. unconsciously, he goes to grab you again, which you consequently dodge, and he thinks this is the most rejected he’s ever felt before realizing it’s not over yet. it’s only truly over when you grab his bottle from him and splash its contents across his face before throwing the bottle back into his arms and leaving for good.

part ii: cardigan

beomgyu can’t tell if his eyes are stinging from the alcohol you splashed in his face or from the sheer humiliation he feels. maybe from both. probably from both. either way, tears fall as a result. he probably looks like a madman as he stumbles along the concrete on his walk home from the bar. he still has the beer bottle you shoved at him in his hand, and luckily for him, there’s still enough in there to help him get a little tipsier than he already is. he needs it, too, because your words play like a broken record in his head.

you don’t know the first thing about love. 

do what you want with whoever you want, but don’t bother me about it anymore.

each and every word feels like you knew exactly the right thing to say to pierce his heart, but he knows better than to think you cared enough to think about it to the point of choosing them so carefully. no, the words you said were what you really felt at the moment. you didn’t even have to try to hurt him, you just had to tell the truth. somehow, that hurts even more. 

he replays the entire debacle in his head and tries to think of what he could have said differently. to be honest, there are a lot things, but he has a feeling that no matter what he said, you would’ve reacted the same exact way. if he really thinks about it, maybe some small, ugly part of him hoped you’d forgive him as easily as you have always been wont to do, but it's clear to him now that he was just being delusional. maybe he was still under the impression that you’d be as easy to please as ever, but with how repulsed you seemed to be by his words, his touch, him, he has no such expectations anymore.

he now finds himself at an impasse. where does he go from here? you made it clear that you’re done with him, but he still loves you. you don't want his love anymore, so where is that love supposed to go? the only person he feels like he can ask no longer wants to speak to him. he’s unsure if he wants to turn to you because you’d understand, or just because you’re the only person he trusts.

needless to say, the walk home from the bar is a long one, indeed. one filled with pensive silence, save for the steady sound of swigs being taken from his bottle and the occasional sob. 

-

most people in your friend group have no idea what transpired between you and beomgyu, but the smart ones, like taehyun, know something must have happened by the way you avoid hangouts in which beomgyu is present like the plague. he doesn’t pry when you bail, though, for which you are thankful. a few weeks pass before you have the epiphany that beomgyu has already ruined enough, and you won’t let him ruin your friendships, too.

when you show up to taehyun’s for his celebratory house party in lieu of a promotion at his job, everyone cheers when you walk through the door, which makes your cheeks heat up, and you feel so relieved that your friends are still the same even when it feels like it’s been an eternity since you’ve seen them. taehyun pulls you in for a hug, and you eagerly reciprocate it.

“glad you made it,” he grins. 

“i wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you say with a smile, which just makes him beam even more.

you’re pleasantly surprised to note that beomgyu is nowhere to be seen, and you relax for a bit before falling into the familiar rhythm that is being with your friends. you missed this. you missed them. and it seems like they’ve missed you just as much if their excited chatter is anything to go by. you were, admittedly, a little tense when you first came in, but all of that melts away as you join in on the banter and pure fun that is being with the people you love the most.

although beomgyu is nowhere to be found, soobin still never leaves your side. he watches the door like a hawk, and you feel at ease with the knowledge that he’s beside you regardless of the outcome. so what if beomgyu shows up? you belong here, and you have soobin and the rest of your friends with you. knowing beomgyu like you do, his passing fancy has almost certainly ended and he will ignore you like the son of a bitch that he is. 

with this notion in mind, you are not at all prepared for the way the aforementioned boy slams taehyun’s front door open and drunkenly stumbles in. the room gets quiet after he does so, and everyone stares as he scans the room with blank, reddened eyes. when his gaze catches yours, you break eye contact almost immediately, opting to turn to soobin with what you hope is an unbothered look, not to keep up any pretenses with him, but because you don’t want anyone other than him to know how uncomfortable you are. in turn, he grabs your hand and laces his fingers with yours, giving your hand a small, reassuring squeeze, and he does not move to unlace his hand with yours even after he does it.

while you’re trying to be discreet, beomgyu is anything but as he continues to stare at you with a dumbed out look on his face. the intense atmosphere is only broken when taehyun stands up to greet him with a side hug and a pat on the other boy’s back. 

“hey, gyu. i’m happy you’re here,” he says.

“mm,” beomgyu replies, eyes still never leaving you and lingering at the way you and soobin have your hands joined, and taehyun’s casual side hug turns into him having to support beomgyu’s weight as beomgyu almost falls over while standing. 

“you’re really fucking drunk,” taehyun murmurs with a wrinkled nose as he smells the alcohol on beomgyu’s entire person. “c’mon, you can relax in my room for a bit.”

beomgyu can only nod as he leans on taehyun for stability and walks towards taehyun’s room. his gaze on you only breaks when taehyun shuts the door behind him, and if your friends didn’t know that something odd was afoot with the two of you, they certainly seem to know now as they look between taehyun’s room and your awkward figure.

“you okay?” a soft, sweet voice whispers. you turn to soobin and muster up a forced smile and a nod. his hand is still holding yours and he soothingly brushes his thumb over your hand in order to try to calm you down. somehow, it actually kind of works. 

-

you’re here. beomgyu thought he may be hallucinating or something just because you seem to haunt him everywhere he goes now, but he knew it was the real thing when he saw how uncomfortable you were. he knows this because in his delusions, you’re either flatout rejecting him or, in the good ones, you’re forgiving him. those are the ones he likes the most, but he hates the sobering aftermath when he realizes they are, in fact, only figments of his imagination.

so now he sits on taehyun’s bed in a daze as he focuses on the door. you’re so close that his heart physically aches in yearning as it insists on closing the distance between you two, but taehyun’s sharp look stops him from doing anything too terribly stupid. 

“this has got to stop,” taehyun halfway pleads, halfway scolds.

“what does?” beomgyu asks dumbly.

“showing up everywhere drunk as hell,” he replies. “look, i don’t know what’s going on, but i know it has to do with her, and i know you’re probably — definitely — in the wrong.” 

beomgyu has enough shame to hang his head and purse his lips in response.

“i don’t know what you did, i don’t know what you said, but whatever it was, i know you’re not making any of it better by getting fucked up every night. stay in here, sober up, and only come out when you’re ready to act like an adult.” and with that, taehyun stalks over to the door before shutting it behind him.

beomgyu is not stupid, but he’s not exactly emotionally intelligent, either; so while taehyun’s words sting, they’re not enough to pull him out of his pity party. all he seems to care about in this moment is being next to you, but he remembers the scene of your hands locking with soobin’s. are you seeing each other now? that can’t be it. the heart does not move on that quickly, but maybe yours did. maybe you buried your feelings for him as deep as they could go in the face of the seemingly repulsive confession of love he gave to you. maybe you belong with somebody like soobin, who’s so gentle and caring. soobin definitely listens to you, cherishes you, treats you gently. maybe beomgyu didn’t exactly understand it before now, but he really understands it at this moment: soobin loves you.

maybe, in a way, he always sort of knew. maybe he felt some sort of sick satisfaction at the way you kept your eyes trained on him while soobin was training his eyes on you. maybe he felt some 12-year-old boy kind of pride at the way you seemed to put him before anyone else in spite of such a viable prospective suitor, but any contentment he may have felt is flushed away at the anxiety of you having somebody so good right besides you — somebody who is obviously much better than him.

do you feel the same way? no, even before that, are you okay? he knows he hurt you really badly. are you still hurting? he wants to know. he has to know. so before he can talk himself out of it, he’s stumbling towards the door.

-

things are still pretty tense when taehyun walks out, but they begin to calm down after everyone asks if beomgyu is alright and taehyun answers in the positive, and you think you might just be in the clear before realizing things are never that easy. beomgyu stumbles out of the door and his gaze immediately locks on you.

“hey,” he says a little too loudly. the room is quiet, and though he didn’t say who he was addressing, it’s obvious it’s you with the way he’s staring so intensely. 

“hey,” he repeats even louder this time. to his chagrin, soobin is still next to you, but that doesn’t mean he can’t slide into the open space on the other side of you. of course, propriety would say that he shouldn’t, but propriety means nothing to beomgyu at this moment. not when he’s so drunk he smells like rubbing alcohol, and not when he’s so openly desperate he looks like a man gone mad.

with no grace to be seen, he plops down next to you, and even through your clothes and his jeans, his legs against yours still feel like they burn you. you try to move to avoid his touch so aggressively that poor, large soobin is squeezed into the armrest even more; and it’s all for naught, anyway, because beomgyu just scoots himself even closer. 

“how’re you?” he slurs, and though everyone tries their best not to seem like they’re eavesdropping, they most certainly are. no matter how hard they try not to stare, their gazes keep flicking towards the two of you and their voices are a little more hushed. you’re beyond embarrassed, but beomgyu doesn’t seem to mind their looks one bit.

“beomgyu…” you whisper exasperatedly, accepting your fate as the spectacle that you currently are and trying to nip it in the bud with your obvious distaste for the situation.

“i jus’ wanna know how you are,” he says desperately as he senses your clear rejection, but to his eventual regret, he doesn't stop. you try to keep your voice low as you say your next words.

“good. look, i really don’t wanna do this with you right now. i have nothing to say to you and you don’t have anything to say to me that i actually want to hear, so i think it’s best if —” 

“but i told you i love you!” he exclaims, and everyone around you ceases to pretend that they aren’t listening. how can they even pretend when he’s quite literally yelling? you don’t notice a thing, though. you’re too absorbed in the melodrama unfolding before you, in which you are in the starring role. “i… i jus’ love you so much, i —” and before he can get out his next words, you’re swiftly standing up with soobin in tow and thanking taehyun for the invite while shuffling out of the front door.

-

beomgyu is devastated when you leave. he takes to walking outside to taehyun’s balcony as he lets tears roam freely down his reddened face. he thinks he’s alone before he hears somebody opening the door and shutting it behind them.

“do you seriously still not get it?” chaewon sneers.

“get what?” he sniffles, and she lets out a long-suffering sigh before she gets out her next words.

“you love her, right? and you miss her?” she asks slowly, as if he’s so stupid, he wouldn’t understand her if she said it any other way.

“of course i do,” he snaps, not appreciating the condescension in her tone, but all the bite is lost in translation because he looks nothing short of pathetic as his tears steadily fall. 

“right. you love her, you miss her, you want to talk to her. you, you, you. it’s still all about you and what you feel, but what about what she feels?” she asks, and he falters at her words. “all you’re doing is making things hard on her, and i can promise you that this ‘woe-is-me’ shit you’re doing right now isn’t gonna change her mind.” 

he thinks back to how you acted when you loved him — how you bent over backwards to try to conceal your feelings so as not to inconvenience him. how everything you did was to make life easier on him, no matter how difficult it was for you. yes, you loved him, but you did it in a way he could accept. you did things his way, and for so long; and all he’s done in return is demand your love in his way, yet again.

“so what do i do?” he earnestly asks. “how do i get her back?” 

“... after what you've done to her? you don't,” she answers after a pause, and he deflates at her words. she’s right, of course.

he thinks about how he’d feel if you treated him the way he treated you. he feels like his heart is dying in his chest just at the memory of you rejecting him, but to be rejected so cruelly? what do you even do with yourself then? he wonders how people live with that kind of hurt, but then, you did it for so long and were even able to paste a smile on your face as you did it. he remembers when he thought that you were a horrible actress because of how he could still see through you despite how bothered you obviously were by his actions, but only now does he understand how much resilience it must've taken. somehow, it just makes him miss you even more. makes him love you even more.

-

beomgyu is a pervert. a sick-in-the-head, nasty, freakish, bottom-of-the-barrel, lowdown, dirty pervert. that's the only way he can accurately describe himself in this moment, and the guilt is strong, but not stronger than his need to let this dream play out the way he wants it to. and the way he wants it to goes like this:

your naked body is splayed across beomgyu’s bed as you watch him undress with watery eyes. 

“i need you, gyu,” you whimper as tears threaten to fall.

“shh, baby. lemme take care of you,” he whispers as he lines himself up with your entrance.

you brace yourself by locking your hands around his neck as he pushes in, and you both groan as your pussy struggles to take him in. it’s so real, he feels you spasm around him like it did on the night you spent together, and he knows he’s a goner.

he lets you adjust for a few moments before slowly pulling out, then thrusting himself back in again. each stroke feels like heaven as you cry out with every movement. he grips your hips, but he tries his best not to hurt you when he does it. you’re far too precious to leave marks on, after all. 

beomgyu gets lost in the feeling all too quickly. he wants to be uncharacteristically gentle, but the feeling of you squeezing around him makes his eyes redden, and before long, he’s drilling into you. 

“‘m close!” you cry out.

“me too, baby,” he whispers, and the feeling of you clenching around him as you come is enough to send him over the edge. he spills himself into you with a broken moan. 

“i love you,” he says desperately as he tries to catch his breath. but even in his dreams, you don’t reply. 

-

soobin has always been sweet, but ever since the beomgyu incident he’s been even sweeter. he shows up to your place with your favorite snacks and never asks any unsavory questions. he takes your calls in the dead of night when he’s clearly been trying to sleep. he holds your hand when you start to space out. 

at first, it was easy to chalk it all up to what best friends do, but as the physical intimacy begins to increase, you start suspecting that something deeper is going on. you are not a cruel person — you’re not the type to pretend not to see something so clear when it inconveniences you (unlike a certain someone). so when soobin places your head on his shoulder during a movie night, against your meek disposition, you ask him a very simple question.

“binnie, do you like me?” and you don’t quite have the courage to look up at him while you ask him, opting to stare at the screen before you.

“yeah. yes, i do,” he replies, and while you would rather continue to avoid eye contact, you have enough respect for him to sit up and look him in his eyes.

“i’m so sorry,” you say, because what else can you say? 

“i know. i know you don’t feel the same way, you don’t have to tell me,” he answers with a soft, forced smile.

“i don’t wanna hurt you.”

“i know you don’t.”

“what can i do?” you ask sincerely.

“i… i don’t need you to do anything. if you need me, you have me. if you don’t need me, you still have me,” he tells you.

“that’s not fair to you.”

“then just give me some time,” he replies. “i’ll get over it if you just give me some time.”

“okay,” you nod.

“are you sure you’ll be okay?” he asks, still as concerned about you as ever. as if you’re not breaking his heart.

“i will be,” you lie. regardless of whether he believes you or not, he nods and gathers his things before leaving.

-

you are, in the most crass of terms, pissy drunk. your sticky situation with soobin is one for the history books, if you do say so yourself, and you lack the proper vernacular at the moment to express just how awful it is. who knew your best friend on this planet had secret feelings for you? well, it seems like everyone, actually, because as you confide in your friends, none seem to be particularly surprised. it appears that you’re the last one to find out. 

of course, you’re only able to deal with the revelation by visiting your favorite bar. against your better judgment, you go alone. usually, you’d ask soobin to come with you, but you can’t do that with the way things are right now, which just makes you feel even worse. you’re on drink number three (or four…  or five…) when an unknown man slides into the barstool next to you. you don’t quite catch his name, but you know you’re not interested in him, or, well, anyone at the moment. you’re far too distracted by your current circumstances to even entertain the thought of another man right now, but even as you deny, deny, deny him, he doesn’t quite seem to get the message.

your vision is blurred as you try to hint to him for what must be the umpteenth time that you’re not looking for anything at the moment, but he still doesn’t understand, and you’re starting to feel every ounce of alcohol you’ve consumed until now. you place your head in your hands as you try to keep the room from spinning, but it doesn’t seem to help, and you can feel his hand squeezing your upper thigh. you’re not the most assertive person at the best of times, and you are certainly even less so in your drunken state, so you’re trying to gather your bearings to reject him once and for all when you feel an arm sliding around your neck. 

“there you are, baby. who’s this?” a baritone voice asks rather loudly, a voice you’d recognize anywhere. beomgyu’s. your gut reaction is to push him off and cuss him out, but even with your delayed reactions, you’re able to register that he’s trying to help you out as you lock eyes with his hesitant brown ones.

“gyu,” you say with what you hope is a believable smile. 

“you’re taken?” the man asks disappointedly.

“yep,” you reply, and he scoffs before pushing out his barstool so abruptly, the chair squeaks before storming away. 

“are you alright?” beomgyu asks quietly.

“‘m fine,” you tell him as you rip his arm off from your shoulder. “i don’t need your help.” 

“i know!” he exclaims a little too desperately. “i-i know that, i just —” but the universe smacks you across the face as you begin to gag, alcohol choosing now of all times to rock your stomach with a vengeance. you begin to try to scramble off of the stool, but you’re so drunk, you’re having trouble even standing up. 

without any prompting, beomgyu hurriedly pulls you up and places your arm around his shoulder before hustling you to the bathroom. you don’t even have time to close the door behind you before you’re hunched over the toilet and choking vomit out of your throat. beomgyu slams the door behind him and rushes over to your pitiful frame before shushing you and rubbing circles into your back in an attempt to calm you down. in turn, you bat his hands away without even condescending to look at him when you do it. his heart stings, but he realizes it’s not about him as you lurch forward and continue to empty your stomach. 

when you’re finally finished, you feel a wet paper towel gently rubbing the sweat off of your forehead, then it travels down to your lips where vomit still pools around them. beomgyu intently cleans you up without saying a word.

“a-are you alright?” he asks meekly, and as if only now registering that it’s him, you push his hands away and say your next words. 

“i thought i told you i didn’t need your fucking help. i hate when people make me repeat myself, didn’t you know?” he winces at your harsh words and sharpness of tone.

“i… i know. i’m sorry. i just thought that you might want somebody with you. i’m really sorry.” and even through your drunken stupor, you know he’s not just apologizing for his interference. but you don’t care.

“and why would i want you?” he’s silent at this before finally replying. 

“you know, when you told me i’d regret it, i didn’t really understand what you meant; but i understand it now. i’m really, really regretting it. i should’ve listened to you,” he says softly with tears brimming in his reddened eyes. 

you’re at a loss for words at this. what do you say? what can you say besides “i told you so”? somehow, that doesn’t quite do the sentiment justice.

part iii: betty

after vomiting, you actually feel like you’ve sobered up quite a bit, but you’re still not speaking, which beomgyu takes to heart.

“i can’t — i’m just really, really sorry,” he brokenly sobs in the face of your silence. “so sorry.” 

“i know,” you reply after a pause, and you do know. you didn’t before, but his pathetic actions and demeanor have shown you that he means what he says. your acknowledgment of his repentance just makes him cry even harder, though. because it doesn’t seem to have changed a thing.

“i was a bastard. i was so fucking awful to you when you were just trying to help me, and i didn’t know what i had until you were gone,” he continues, quite openly sobbing at this point. he looks like a man gone mad as he cries in the public restroom of a bar, but what's the point of trying to keep his cool now? maybe this way, you’ll understand just how much he means what he says.

but you’re the victim. you’re the one who should be crying her heart out at the moment. you didn’t even do anything besides reject him after he’s been continuously rejecting you and treating you like gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe for years. why does he get to cry and get what he wants? what about you?  you want to hold onto this injustice, but the way he crumbles in front of you makes your heart soften. no matter how angry you may be, you can't help but try to reason with him.

“beomgyu, i know you’re sorry. i really do,” you sigh, and your tone tells him everything he needs to know, but he still hangs onto every word as if they’re the most important things he’ll ever hear. still, he feels dread at what you have to say next tugging on his heartstrings.

“but it’s just not enough. you treated me like i was garbage for years. you used me and my feelings, and tossed me away whenever you wanted.” and he withers even more with every word. “and i let you do it because i loved you and i thought you didn’t know how i felt, but you fucking knew what you were doing; and you still slept with me while knowing how i felt about you. how can you expect me to forgive you for that?” you ask, and it is not completely rhetorical. you seem to be searching for an answer, but he doesn’t have one. he never did. if he could figure out how to justify any of his actions, he would, but he can’t seem to come up with anything even as he scrambles for a response. 

he knows he's losing you, so why not just be honest? as a last ditch effort, he lays everything out on the table. 

“you said you loved me,” he says. “m-maybe, if i can be better, you’ll love me again. i can be good for you, i-i know i can. so if you just —” 

“beomgyu,” you interrupt, though not maliciously. you seem to have some level of patience for him even in spite of everything. “i still love you. love was never the problem.” and he can’t help but feel a shred of hope bud in the wake of your words, but it’s killed in its crib at what you say next. “but that’s just not enough anymore. the way you’ve been feeling for the past few weeks is how i’ve felt for years. i bet you can’t even imagine that — i don’t even want you to imagine that, actually. it just hurts too much.” 

and while you just said that you didn’t want him to, he can’t help but envision exactly that: the feeling that he had when you were with soobin multiplied exponentially. and for so long. and with different people. that same pain over and over and over again with no reprieve besides for the hope that someday, if you’re lucky, you might have a chance. someday, maybe any day, but probably not any time soon. to live like that and for so long, just thinking about it makes his heart ache and his stomach churn. 

“do you understand me now?” you ask, and gone are the traces of resentment and disgust. your gaze is only filled with pity. somehow, that makes him feel even worse. 

“y-yeah,” he says breathlessly with an inhale so sharp, it’s as if he’s in physical pain, all the while trying desperately to gather his bearings and to look and sound like a functioning member of society. he fails in light of his constant stream of tears. “i, um, i get it now.” 

“okay,” you say softly. “i’m going to call yunjin so she can pick me up. can you get home safely?” this is it. you don’t have to say it, but he knows that you two will never speak again after this. what else is there to say, after all? 

“i can.”

“good,” you smile, and he tries his best to smile, too, but he doesn’t quite make it there. “goodbye, beomgyu.”

“goodbye,” he whispers shakily, and he looks so profoundly devastated that you wish you could comfort him, but you know it’d just make things worse; so without another word, you leave him alone as you prepare to call yunjin.

beomgyu doesn’t know how long he spends in the wake of your absence, but he cries until no more tears will leave his eyes. when he's all cried out, eyes swollen and face red, he leaves the bar in a state of borderline delirium. your words echo in his unstable state of mind, and he realizes that even when you had every right to treat him like the scum of the earth, you were kinder than he could ever reasonably expect for you to be. it seems that you still gave him more than he ever deserved. as always.

-

things with soobin have stayed in an odd sort of purgatory for weeks now, but unfortunately or not, life goes on, so you don't have the luxury of ruminating on it as much as you probably need to. you don't reach out very much for fear of unwittingly making your circumstances with him even more difficult for him to move past, but that certainly doesn't mean that you don't miss him. still, you prioritize his feelings in the matter over your own and patiently await the day where he finally feels comfortable enough to be friends with you once more. he forgoes most of the gatherings that your friends arrange, and it's like a knife to the heart every time. 

as for your situation with beomgyu, you deliberately try to push that out of your mind as frequently as humanly possible. you feel like things have ended on the best note you could ever ask for, and your friends know better than to bring him up around you, so you figure that ignorance is bliss. old habits die hard, though, and you find yourself wanting to check on him, but you remind yourself that that’s not your job anymore — and it never should have been in the first place, really, which is enough to stop you in your tracks on the bad nights where you want nothing more than to reach out. you reason with yourself that he has friends, so there’s no need to concern yourself with him. 

but you miss him. you miss when you were stupid enough to believe that he didn’t know about your feelings. you wish you could go back and erase your love for him so you two could go back to just being friends. what he did was unforgivable, you know that, but you still miss all the times he made you laugh. still, that pales in comparison to all the times he made you cry, right? that's how you should look at things. that's how you will look at things. 

as it is, you’re perfectly fine with never speaking to him again. at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

-

“are you okay?” taehyun asks in a hushed tone. he hasn’t seen beomgyu in over a month now, but beomgyu finally agreed to come out with him after taehyun said he missed him. now, they are seated in a booth at the dimly lit bar just down the street from taehyun’s place.

“y-yeah,” beomgyu replies with a forced upturn of his lips as he sloshes around the non-alcoholic drink in his cup. after the last time you saw him, he decided to ditch alcohol for the time being. taehyun was right about him needing to act like an adult, and he just knows that if he were to get even a drop of alcohol in him, he’d come crawling back to you, probably to your disgust. 

“good,” taehyun sighs in relief. “i was really worried about you for a while there, you know? everyone was.”

“i know,” beomgyu answers perfunctorily. everyone has been worried about him and has said as much. well, pretty much everyone except for you. 

“are you ever gonna talk about what happened?” taehyun carefully probes, which causes beomgyu to cease all actions and stare blankly at his cup — liquid still gently swishing back and forth. 

“nothing happened that you probably didn’t already guess,” beomgyu says with a derisive smile. its sentiment is not directed at taehyun, however, but at himself. 

“that doesn't mean i don't want to hear it from you,” taehyun replies.

with a sigh of defeat, beomgyu begrudgingly recounts his circumstances with you, sparing no details. at first, taehyun's eyes widen every so often, but after a while, his face relaxes into something somber and resigned. when beomgyu is finished, his gaze remains locked on taehyun’s face, searching for any semblance of a reaction, but he remains stoic.

“well?” beomgyu asks impatiently.

“well, what?” taehyun says after a moment, and he's tempted to just leave it at that, but after looking into beomgyu’s pleading eyes, he realizes that he needs to say more. “you fucked up, but you know that already. i would say that i can't believe you did that, but if it's you, i can believe it,” he sighs, and beomgyu really wishes he hadn't pressed taehyun for more, because he feels smaller and smaller with every new word. 

“i know. i’m a piece of shit who doesn't deserve her. i never did,” beomgyu relents, feeling completely helpless. he wasn't expecting comfort or anything like that — he doesn't deserve it, but he's still hurt by taehyun's words, regardless of their validity. they just further confirm what he already knows.

“yeah, you're right,” taehyun agrees with a nod, and beomgyu deflates even more, if that's even possible. 

“is… is she okay?” beomgyu asks timidly. he's been too afraid to ask about you, but now that taehyun knows the truth, it seems pointless to beat around the bush.

“not really,” taehyun says with a twitch of his lips. 

“why not?!” beomgyu exclaims a little too loudly. taehyun hurriedly shushes him before glancing around the bar to make sure nobody’s attention has been drawn to the two of them. 

“why not?” beomgyu repeats, voice lower this time, but urgency just as palpable.

“i don't know. i think something happened between her and soobin, but neither of them will talk about it. i'm sure you can guess what happened, though,” taehyun sighs. and he's right. beomgyu can guess, but he can't quite believe it. you must've rejected soobin, but why? why would you reject someone so perfect for you? does it have anything to do with him?

-

beomgyu can’t shake the feeling that your situation with soobin has something to do with him. he knows he’s being vain, he knows he’s being selfish, but he can’t help but hope. he doesn't tell anyone about this, though, for fear that reality will be much crueler than he can cope with. he tells himself he's perfectly content with living with said hope and deluding himself into thinking he still has a place in your heart, but he can't control the way his mind wanders to places he scarcely dares to dream of these days. dreams where you miss him, where you still think about him, where you forgive him play out in a number of ways, but in the end, they're nothing more than, well, dreams.

-

as much as some would like to avoid it, gathering for taehyun’s friendsgiving party is inevitable. no matter the circumstances, nobody can quite justify missing out on your friend group’s collective tradition. you try to steel yourself for the potentially awkward encounters with soobin and beomgyu, but you can’t help but worry about potential “what if’s”. still, you decide to be as mature as possible. if you see soobin, you'll make light conversation before excusing yourself if he seems uncomfortable. if you see beomgyu, well, hopefully he'll just ignore you as you've ignored him.

when you arrive at taehyun's, you greet everyone as usual. honestly, as awful as it sounds, you're pretty relieved to see that neither soobin nor beomgyu have arrived just yet. you drink just enough to take some of the edge off, so when soobin comes in, it's not an earth-shattering event. when he greets you, you're prepared to just leave it at a cordial, somewhat distant conversation, and he seems to be on the exact same page. he says hello and performs all of the necessary niceties before wandering off and getting himself a drink. it hurts your heart that this is what your friendship has been reduced to, but you know it's what's best at the moment. you don't want to unintentionally hurt him by insisting he push his limits by being with you. 

you try to shove this out of your mind, and you're talking to yunjin about nothing in particular when beomgyu walks through the door. you can’t help but look up when he enters, but you will yourself to look away while plastering a smile on your face you already know isn’t believable in the slightest. mercifully, he doesn’t do anything other than wave at you and yunjin before getting lost in the hustle and bustle of the party.

you think the worst of the night is over, and you calmly go through the motions of your friendsgiving traditions as if everything is fine. after dinner, you find yourself sitting alone, wondering if you should just hang it up and go home a bit early. before you can do that, though, you notice soobin approaching your spot on the couch. 

“hey,” he says a little unsteadily as he plops down next to you, no doubt a little tipsy from the drinks he’s had.

“hey,” you shyly reply with a smile. 

“how are you?” he asks. 

“i’m okay,” you answer, trying to maintain your composure. “what about you?”

“better,” he says before hesitantly continuing. “i miss you.” your heart soars, but it also somewhat aches.

“i miss you, too,” you tell him honestly. he smiles, albeit very softly.

“how are things with beomgyu?” he probes.

“as good as they’ll get, i guess.”

“so not very good, huh?”

“no, not very good,” you say truthfully. 

“well, why don't you just cut the bullshit, then?” you're very clearly taken aback by his words. you're even actually offended that he could casually say such a thing.

“what are you talking about?” your tone is more defensive than bewildered, but he just looks at you with knowing eyes that make you feel microscopic.

“you know what i’m talking about,” he argues. “this whole fucked up charade that you two are performing isn’t fooling anybody, so why even try?” 

“he doesn't deserve me,” you scoff. “he can't just treat me like shit and get away with it because he's sorry now. he needs to pay for what he's done.”

“and who are you punishing by doing that? him or yourself?” you're, again, surprised, so you don't quite know what to say in response.

“i know you. i know what you want, and denying that doesn't do anything but hurt the both of you. you might as well get what you want. maybe he doesn't deserve it — i'm not really sure, but don't you want to try, at least? with how desperate he’s been acting, i don’t think he’ll hurt you again.” you seriously ponder his words, but the main conclusion you come to is that soobin is still so, so kind. he had — or has — feelings for you, but he still wants to see you happy. you don’t have to say anything, though, because it seems like he understands how grateful you are just from your smile.

he pulls you in for a hug, one so warm and loving you can't help but melt into it. you could cry at how relieved you are that you two will soon overcome the awkwardness and distance. it seems he wasn't one of your best friends for nothing. when you two break apart, you look up at him with a watery smile. before you can say anything, though, you register the odd look on his face. you look confused for just a second before he says his next words in a hushed, hurried tone.

“i'm doing this for your own good,” he whispers as he leans down and catches your lips in a tender kiss. to say you're stunned is an understatement, indeed, but the kiss ends almost as quickly as it begins, leaving you reeling. 

“w-why did you —” 

“i said it was for your own good, but it was kind of for me, too,” he softly chuckles. “maybe i want to punish him a little bit.” you don't really understand what he means until you follow his gaze and catch beomgyu in his line of sight. oh, you get it now. who knew soobin was such a sadist? 

your conversation with soobin ends and you feel a lot lighter than you have in a long, long time, but his words leave you with more than enough to think about. you shake your head and go out to the balcony to clear your head. after a few minutes, you hear the door behind you creak open. you know it's beomgyu before he even says anything. 

“so, you and soobin, huh?” he questions softly as he settles next to you, leaning against the railing. you glance up at him to respond, but his mirthless smile stops you before you can say a word. 

“i’m happy for you,” he adds as sincerely as he can, and you’re not sure you buy that, but at the very least, he seems to want you to believe it. you're not really sure how to respond. you don't even know if you want to explain everything to him, actually, because you're still debating on whether or not you should forgive him. can things really be that easy? does he deserve your forgiveness? who's to say he won't just break your heart again? as you struggle with how to answer, he continues.

“i'm, um, i'm glad you found somebody. especially soobin. he'll treat you right — you deserve it,” he says before timidly rambling. “s-sorry if i’m overstepping, i just wanted you to know that; and, uh, if you ever need anything, i'm here.”

“need anything? like what?” you can't help but wonder aloud. now, this is unlike the beomgyu you've come to know. if it were, then he'd be throwing a fit trying to get you to change your mind so you'd be with him instead of soobin. 

“l-like, if you need advice or something,” he earnestly answers, somewhat surprised you said anything at all. “or if you just want to talk or complain or anything. whatever it is that you need, i’ll be here. i owe you that much after all you’ve done for me.” you look confused for a moment before you answer him.

“i didn’t do those things so you’d owe me, beomgyu,” you tell him, and his heart flutters against his will at the use of his name.

“i-i know, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean it like that. s-sorry. i just want you to know that there’s someone who wants to be there for you, especially since you were always there for me, but even if you weren’t, i would still want to be there for you,” he nervously replies. 

“why?” you quietly ask, and that actually brings a wistful smile to his face. 

“because i care about you,” he says, voice dripping with sincerity and solemnity. what he really wants to tell you is that it's because he loves you, but it's clear that it's the wrong time. he can't just dump his feelings onto you again — that would be wrong since you're obviously involved with someone now. if it were the old him, he'd do it with absolutely no regrets if it meant that you'd come back to him, but he can't do that to you. he can't just steamroll over your wants and feelings like he's always done. 

“but why?” you question persistently. he never saw anything of value in you before, not outside of how he could use you, so what’s so great about you now? you just can’t understand it. his sincere smile turns wry, teeming with a sense of self-mockery as he whispers his next words.

“because you're amazing. you're everything anyone could ever want.” anything i could ever want. he doesn't have to say that last part, because you can already hear the meaning of his words. just because you can hear it, however, doesn't mean you understand it.

“i never thought you, of all people, would think that,” you say honestly. 

“i know, but that's my fault, not yours,” he replies. you purse your lips in response, mulling over your options. you could just walk away right now and go back to ignoring beomgyu forever. it's what he deserves, you reason. he humiliated you in a way like none other, and nobody would blame you if you never let that go; but you look at how hard he's trying, and your heart softens. maybe you want to give it a try. maybe you'll get hurt again, but with how desperate he is, you really don't think so. still, you can’t let him get away with it so easily. you just have to make sure his feelings are pure.

“i know you still have feelings for me,” you say after a long pause, and his face reddens in shame, feeling like his ugly heart that he was desperately trying to conceal has been exposed. he supposes this is the way it should be, but he doesn't want to guilt you into anything, so he chooses to remain silent in his humiliation. “if it were like before, you would just tell me that. why is it different now?” you continue. well, that's it then. he should be truthful and say what he wants to say, and unbeknownst to him, what you want to hear.

“because your feelings should be more important than my own. that's what you do when you love somebody,” he chokes out. “you taught me that.”

you're quiet for a long, long time. too long, in fact. so long, he thinks it's time to call it quits and suppress his unrequited feelings for you until he feels them no longer. he can't imagine a world where he successfully does so, but for your sake, he should try. before he can say his goodbye, though, you speak again.

“okay,” you sigh.

“what?” he asks confusedly, eyebrows furrowed.

“i said, ‘okay’. don't make me regret this,” you tell him before grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him down to you. your lips softly meet each other and his eyes widen in sheer shock, though he doesn't resist you. his breath is labored when you finally part, eyes hazy with his lips red and swollen. 

“w-what are you — i thought — why are you —”

“i'll give you one chance,” you interrupt. “if you fuck up, it's over. do you understand?” he takes a second to process your words — but it's just a second — and his eyes well up with relieved tears when he understands. he dumbly nods in agreement, too afraid that if he speaks, no intelligible noise will come out. 

“good.” the corners of your mouth curl with a ghost of a smile, and you're prepared to leave it at that as you pull away from him; but like a dog, he earnestly chases after your touch before pulling you towards him, lips meeting yours again. the kiss is hungrier this time — more insistent, but he doesn't push his luck. eventually, he parts from you, leaving you both panting. his tears, which he was previously holding back, now flow from his eyes with no resistance. 

“thank you,” he says gently.

“for what?” you ask, head a little clouded from the kiss, but he just shakes his head with a smile. you will never understand just how grateful he is for the mercy you’ve shown him, but he’ll try to show you how much it means to him. 

-

things go slowly after that — you do your best to ensure that they do; and beomgyu, to his credit, tries to oblige. you’re not official or anything like that, but you let him take you on dates, and he’s always trying to woo you in one way or another. he sends flowers when you work, he shows up to your place with food and drinks, he texts you every morning asking how you’ve slept. it’s everything you could have ever asked for, and you can really see how hard he’s trying, but when kisses become heated, you always pull away before things can go any further. beomgyu tries his best not to show his dejection, but you always end up apologizing before he adamantly insists that he’s more than okay with it. you appreciate his understanding because every time you think about going any further, you can’t help but remember the indelible scar that his previous betrayal left upon you. 

-

christmas parties at beomgyu’s, much like friendsgivings at taehyun’s, are a tradition within your friend group. now that the tension with soobin and (most of) the tension with beomgyu is no longer there, you find that you’re actually really excited to gather again. you have no intention of revealing the nature of your… circumstances with beomgyu to everyone, though, and beomgyu will never say it for fear of making you uncomfortable, but it makes his heart ache. he can't really blame you for not wanting to be tied to him, but that doesn't soothe the pain in his chest.

secret santa takes place without a hitch. that is, until you open up your gift, which is a necklace with a pendant of a silver sun, and it is revealed that soobin got it for you. it’s not the most expensive gift in the world, but it is uncommonly sentimental. many write it off as a pretty, but ultimately meaningless piece of jewelry, but beomgyu instinctively knows it’s because of how so much of you resembles the sun. how could he not understand? you’re warm and nurturing, but it’s unsettling to realize that you’re not his alone. he tries to tell himself that it's not the end of the world, but when soobin turns you around and gently clasps the necklace for you before smoothing out your hair, he can't help but feel like it is. that’s enough for him to excuse himself to his room, but you’re far too preoccupied with gushing over how much you love the gift to soobin to really notice. 

when he enters his room, he sits on the edge of his bed, placing his head in his hands with a groan. he shouldn't be feeling like this. he has no right to feel like this. you had already taken the time to explain that you and soobin are just friends, and you stressed that he’ll have to be okay with that fact if he wants to be with you, to which he eagerly agreed; but he can't help but think that it's only a matter of time before you come to your senses and leave him to be with soobin for good. 

you two aren't even technically official, and your hesitance to be classified as such to your closest friends only shows him just how much you want that to continue to be true. what if he's just a pit stop in yours and soobin's love story? that seems like the most likely outcome. he can just see it now, you and soobin laughingly recalling your tumultuous history to your future kids. is beomgyu being dramatic? probably, but that doesn't stop his mind from running wild. why would you choose to stay with him when soobin, who's been devoted to you since the beginning, is right there? 

the door to his room opens, and he whips his head up in hopes that it's you coming back to him, so he can't hide his disappointment when he's greeted by chaewon’s figure shutting the door behind her before she plops down beside him. his mood turns even more sour than it already was when he sees her.

“if you're here to laugh at me for how pathetic i am, i don’t want to hear it,” he says bitingly. she’s quiet for a moment, as if she’s digesting his words, before she nods.

“you’re right, you are pathetic,” she deadpans. his temper flares, but before he can lash out, she continues. “you look stupid just sulking here because your little girlfriend got attention from another man.”

“h-how did you kn—” 

“she may be subtle, but you definitely aren’t,” she snorts. 

“oh,” he defeatedly replies with a laughably crestfallen look.

“doesn't feel good, does it? seeing the person you love with somebody else,” she asks snarkily. “it’s one of the worst feelings in the world, if you ask me.” 

“and what the hell do you know about that?” he spits. chaewon is one of the most spiteful and bull-headed people he knows. he can't imagine her being too broken up about supposed unrequited love. 

“because that's how i feel when i look at the both of you,” she says matter-of-factly, as if she didn't just drop the bomb of the century. he knew that she was attracted to him, obviously, but he never knew her feelings ran any deeper than that. he sputters as he looks at her, but she cuts him off.

“i know you didn't know about my feelings, for real this time. i guess i'm a better actress than her, or maybe you just never cared enough to find out. whatever it is, i know it's hopeless, so you don't have to tell me.”

“i'm sorry,” he murmurs, but she just shakes her head.

“thanks, but your apology just makes me feel worse,” she scoffs. “i don’t need or want the pity of the most pitiful person in the world.” her words are undeniably harsh, but he can register the amount of hurt in them.

“i'm still sorry,” he says. “i know how you feel, and i know it's really hard. i'm sorry for never noticing.” his sincerity makes her calloused heart soften.

“yeah, it's hard; but for what it's worth, i think she loves you, too,” she tells him.

“i really hope so,” he replies with a sardonic smile before it melts into something more genuine. “thank you for telling me about your feelings. i'm sorry that i don't feel the same way, but i hope you find somebody who does.”

“thank you,” she says, more sincerely this time. “friends?” with this, she extends her hand for him to shake. he smiles at her gesture as he complies. 

“friends.” hesitantly, she pulls him into a hug. he’s stunned for a second before patting her back in reciprocation. he can’t love her, but he can learn to appreciate her, which he has never done, even with all of her help. maybe he’s becoming a better person because of you. 

as if on cue, the door opens the moment that thought is fully formed. he’s relieved to see you for the split second before he realizes how this must look to you. he madly breaks away from her in a haste.

“it's not what it looks like!” he exclaims, and chaewon tactfully rises and scurries out of the door before shutting it behind her, but you remain silent and rooted to your spot.

“i swear! it's really not what it looks like,” he says pleadingly as he stands and grabs your hands, which you promptly smack away. 

“i just fucking knew this would happen,” you spit. “i won't give it up to you, so you turn around and pull this shit — is that it?”

“n-no! seriously, we’re just friends! she told me that she had feelings for me, but i rejected her, and we said we would just be friends,” he desperately explains. “i swear to god i would never do that to y—” he wants to continue, but the way your shoulders shake as you put your head in your hands stops him in his tracks. 

he hurriedly embraces you as he hears muffled cries escape your lips.

“i’m so sorry, please don’t cry. it wasn’t what it looked like, i promise,” he says as soothingly as he can muster, but that doesn't seem to stop your tears. he feels more and more helpless as you continue to break down in front of him, so he resorts to saying whatever he can think of to calm you down. 

“i’m sorry, it’s all my fault. i never should’ve touched her. just don't cry, okay? i hate seeing you cry,” he whispers as he draws circles on your back, pressing you closer to him. after a while, your sobs die out and your breathing becomes more steady. 

“a-are you okay?” he timidly probes. you stare at him with eyebrows furrowed for a bit before you slightly nod. he purses his lips before continuing.

“are you going to leave me?” he whispers, and he regrets asking as soon as the words leave his lips.��

it's okay if you're only indulging him in this would-be relationship because you pity him. it's okay if he's just a pit stop in your love story with soobin. it's okay if he turns out to be nothing more than a momentary distraction from the actual love of your life, just as long as you stay with him for as long as you can stand it. why would he question his place in your life? why would he ruin a good thing by making you tell him to his face that you don't want him? he should've just waited for you to figure it out on your own instead of forcing you to confront the true nature of your feelings for him. 

when he’s met with nothing but your pensive silence, he speaks again.

“i-i’m sorry i asked. i, um, i understand,” he adds defeatedly.

“no,” you croak. 

“n-no? what do you mean by —” 

“no, i won’t leave you,” you declare, a little bit more confidently this time.

“you won’t?” he asks doubtfully, taken aback by this sentiment.

“do you want me to?” 

“no! i-i just can’t believe it. why would you stay with me?” 

“because i think you love me. do you?” 

“of course!” he exclaims.

“then will you show me? how much you love me, i mean?” you ask.

“h-how do you mean?”

you look up at him and pull him by his collar so his lips meet yours, and his eyes widen before he melts into the kiss. he feels like he’s floating as you move your lips against his, but he groans when you softly tug his hair, which allows you to snake your tongue into his welcoming mouth. that’s enough to replace the floating feeling with one of pure need. when you part, you're both gasping for air. 

“are you sure?” he seemed so lost in the feeling before, but he looks nothing short of timid right now, endearing you in a way you previously thought was impossible.

“yes.”

he gulps and guides you to his bed, firmly gripping your hand as if he’ll lose you if he doesn’t hold onto you. carefully, reverently, he begins to undress you, making sure not to be too rough, juxtaposing how crass he was the first (and last) time you two did this. when you’re fully undressed, he shamelessly takes the view of you in. you subconsciously feel embarrassed and start to cover yourself, and he gently, but firmly, takes your arms and pulls them away from your shivering frame.

“don’t hide from me. you’re beautiful,” he whispers, before ducking down and pulling you in for a heated kiss. it’s still gentle, but there’s more fire behind it than usual. eventually, he breaks away and quickly rids himself of his clothes, contrasting greatly with the tenderness he showed you as he took yours off. when he’s finished, he kisses you again. this time, though, he doesn’t just stop at your lips, and he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck before he pushes you down onto the bed and finds his way down to your aching pussy.

he plants kisses on your open thighs until your legs are trembling and your core is glistening with anticipation. greedily, he takes one experimental, flat-tongued lick from your pussy and groans at your taste. he starts slowly — licking stripes until his movements become a series of alternating between this and more focused licks to your folds and clit. eventually, he takes one of his fingers and prods at your weeping hole before pushing it in to the knuckle. he curls and teases until he finds your sweet spot with little effort. 

“o-oh,” you sigh, but before you can get used to the feeling, he slides another finger in and repeats his movements, softly sucking on your clit as he does it. beomgyu tries to show restraint, he really does, but you taste so good that before long, he’s practically hammering his fingers into you while he licks and sucks on your lower lips. you’re no match for his skilled tongue, so you’re falling apart more quickly than you’d like to admit. you hold onto his hair for dear life, tugging a little harder than you probably should, but you’re in no state to control your harshness as you reach the end. 

“gyu, i’m gonna — oh, shit — i’m coming! i’m coming!” you cry as your legs buckle, tightening around his head against your will. he doesn’t pull away, however; he just lets you cage him in between your thighs as if he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. as you come down, he laps up your cum and removes his fingers to directly stick his tongue in your clenching hole. you think you might have to pull him off of you due to overstimulation, but he (reluctantly) does it himself before you can quite get there. 

he makes no move to clean himself up, and his expression is one of pure bliss, as if you were the one who just gave him the best oral of his life and not the other way around. he pulls you in for a heavy kiss, and you taste yourself along with the sweetness that is beomgyu. he tries to be patient, but he can't help but frantically line himself up with your entrance, poking and prodding his tip against your still-spasming hole as he takes one of your hands into his own while using the other to guide himself into you. 

“is this okay?” he nervously asks. you nod. with a strained breath, he slowly begins to push into you. 

it's a struggle to push himself in, meeting resistance as you clench around him, pussy trying desperately to accommodate his length. your hand tightly grips his as you feel the almost unbearable stretch, and he soothingly caresses his thumb over your finger, shuddering as you take him in inch by inch. it feels even better than the first time, somehow — you're even warmer and wetter than before. with labored breaths, he tries to keep himself from coming early as he feels you contracting around him. when he’s finally completely sheathed in you, it's like puzzle pieces fitting together; things seem more right than they have since, well, the last time you two did this. you stay like  that for what must be a long time — just feeling each other in an act of pure intimacy as you both heave out labored breaths. 

“are you ready?” he whispers, and after a few seconds, you nod. he shakily pulls out, feeling your pussy struggling to keep him in, and takes a deep breath before piercing you in one fluid motion, scraping against your g-spot with ease. you whimper at the sensation as he pulls himself out before ramming back in again. 

“relax, baby. i know you can take me. you were made for me,” he says soothingly as he sets his pace. he tries to take things slowly, but it’s difficult when it feels like you’re sucking him in with every thrust. his words comfort you, and before long, you're melting into his touch.

“so good,” he groans as he repeatedly hits your cervix. “you’re so fucking perfect.” all you can do is moan in response, feeling so detached from reality that the only thing chaining you to it is the way he’s fucking you. your grip on his hand tightens until you’re sure his fingers are numb, but he makes no move to stop you. he even leans down to plant a kiss on your lips, which was meant to be mostly innocent, but it quickly devolves into your tongues and teeth clashing against  each other as he snaps his hips into yours. you feel more than full as he stretches you out and pounds into you so deeply, you feel him in your stomach. you can only be described as lightheaded as he hits the deepest parts of you relentlessly, and you feel yourself getting closer to your climax — causing you to let out an animalistic whine.

“shh, baby. i’ve got you. just let go, okay?” you have no choice but to oblige when he continues drilling into you. you couldn't stop even if you wanted to. it's only a few moments before your eyes are rolling backwards as you mercilessly clamp down around him. the feeling of you tightening on his length pushes him to his own end, and he moans out “oh, g-god, i love you,” while he spills himself into you, shuddering as he does it. you feel his hot cum flooding your insides, eventually leaking out of your aching cunt as he slowly thrusts it into you. you stay like that, just joined together, for a long while.

with reluctance, he pulls out of you. you're both silent as he collapses on top of you and mindlessly toys with your hair. 

“i love you, too,” you whisper.

“w-what?” he shoots up and stares at you in disbelief, scanning your face in earnest.

“you heard me,” you reply. 

“can you — can you say it again? please?” your purse your lips before responding.

“i love you, too.”

he doesn't mean for them to, but his eyes well up with tears. he grabs you and flips you on top of him before locking his arms around you. your head rests comfortably against his chest as he pulls you closer and closer, nuzzling his cheek onto the top of your head. 

“i can't believe this is real,” he whispers between his tears, and you can't stop yourself from smiling at the sheer amount of awe in his tone. “i'll be so good to you, you won't believe it.”

“okay,” you chuckle, in spite of yourself. what can you do other than believe him when he's so damn desperate? 

notes pt. 2: finishing this has most certainly been an uphill battle. i was writing like a few sentences a day for the longest time. still, i hope you all enjoyed this. i love you very much, my friends. also, please let me know what you thought about it (as long as it's not mean!)

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[gisele0127]

Being Kunigami’s girlfriend after the wildcard :(

Warnings: Spoilers!, angst to fluff, grammar mistakes, not proof read, kind of rushed.

2 posts in one day😉☺️

You miss your boy. You miss how rensuke would look at you. You miss all the nicknames he’d call you. You miss how affectionate he used to be. You miss all the the dates he would take you on. You just miss your old boy.

Rensuke misses you too. He hates himself for what he has become. He’s afraid.

Rensuke has gotten buffer, his hair longer and messier. But most importantly his face. He looks so sad, so defeated. His eyes starting to have bags his whole demeanor has changed.

Rensuke remembers when he lost and got kicked out of blue lock. He hates himself. He hates how he let you down, how he let his sisters down, and how he let himself down. He doesn’t know how to face you when he goes back home. He knows you’ll be sad, he knows that he will cry in your arms when he finally sees you. But then the wild card happened. He thought he didn’t have to face you just yet. Maybe he can redeem himself one last time.

You don’t know what happened exactly during the wildcard. But when blue lock got their 2 weeks off so did Rensuke. You didn’t even know he was back until his little sister texted you. “Hey y/n, can you come over please Rensuke is acting super weird” your heart dropped. Why didn’t he text you the second he got out? You got so anxious thinking about it, you were nervous the whole walk to his house. You knocked on the door and Mrs. Kunigami opened it. “Oh y/n I missed you so much. Ren has been acting super weird and looks so…different. Do you know what’s going on?” Your heart drops again. “Uh no I’m sorry. I didn’t even know he was back until you guys texted me”

The walk to his room was nerve wracking. Why were you so nervous? You’re finally seeing your boyfriend after months. You walk in and you’re surprised to see your boyfriend who takes care of his appearance look like total shit. He didn’t notice you come in until you whispered “Ren baby, are you okay?” He looks startled to see you in his room. “What are you doing here I didn’t tell you to come over? What do you want?” You’re surprised by his reaction, because you expected your boyfriend to spring on to you and kiss you. You’ve been waiting for this moment for weeks and this is how it turns out? You turn visibly upset.

“What the fuck Ren? This is how you greet me? What’s wrong with you? I came because my own boyfriend is back and I haven’t seen him In months. I thought you’d be happy to see me. I missed you so much.” Your eyes start to turn glossy, you’re frustrated. He looks at you then scoffs. “Get out. I don’t want to see you right now” Now you’re extra pissed, why does he have an attitude? Ren never has an attitude he’s always so patient. Your anger gets to you and now you’re the one yelling “are you seriously kicking me out?! I want to spend time with you before you have to go back why are you acting so different. Why do you look so different?! You look like total shit and you’re acting like a total fucking douche!” Okay maybe you’re acting a little over dramatic but this better knock some sense into him.

“Get the fuck out. I don’t wanna see you right now, not tomorrow, not ever again. Don’t talk to me again. We’re over.”

Woah. Did he just break up with you? This is the last thing you expected. You turn pale your heart is beating fast. “Wait Ren! No you can’t mean that. Hey just talk to me babe! I’m your girlfriend that’s what you’re supposed to do!” He looks at you and with such disgust he says “ex girlfriend”. That’s when you walk out, into the living room where his family is sitting on the couch. Yup they definitely heard your argument. You can’t see the looks on their faces because you’re tearing up but you walk out.

You get back home, mascara ruined and your dad asks you, “where’ve you been?” You don’t answer him. You don’t want to because what are you supposed to say? You just got broken up with? Hell no it’s embarrassing enough that his family heard yalls argument. You go into your room and scream and cry. The last thing you expected just happened to you.

3 days pass by. Not a single text from Kunigami. To be quite honest, now you’re the one looking like shit. You haven’t gone to school, you can’t show your face anywhere. Your dad is worried but he’s on a work trip right now so he can’t comfort you. “Ask Kunigami to come over, he can always cheer you up.” Right. You still haven’t told your dad.

You hear a knock on the door. You don’t bother getting it, it’s probably just a package arriving. Another knock, harder and faster. By this time you’re annoyed. You go to the door yelling “coming!!” You swing the door open ready to tell someone off but right in front of the entrance to you house is your newly ex boyfriend. Kunigami Rensuke.

You’re flustered, not expecting him. Even more flustered because of what you’re wearing. Spandex and Kunigami’s old shirt. “Uh hey, is there something I can help you with?” You ask awkwardly. “I need to get all my stuff back” he says with no emotion. “Oh sure come in, uh lemme go grab some of your stuff from my room” Kunigami waits patiently on the couch, truth be told you had none of his stuff packed. You wanted to keep all of it.

After about 10 minutes you’re about to finish getting all of his stuff ( he had a lot, it was practically his second home ). Just as you stand up you feel big muscular arms wrap around your waist. You’re startled and mad. Who does he think he is? “Kunigami let me fucking go” you say with so much venom. “What happened to Ren?” He asks. “I’m not going to call you that anymore, we’re not dating remember?” At that he perks up, and lets you go. This time y’all are both facing eachother you get a good look at him and see his puffy eyes. Has he been crying?

You send him off his way and after 5 minutes since he’s been gone you hear another knock on the door. Ugh what does he want? You open the door and before you could say something he comes running in hugging you. “I miss you so much I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry baby. I’m so sorry. Please just let me explain myself please.” You know you should’ve said no, but you can’t this is the man you love. The man you want to spend the rest of your life with.

You let him in. You both are sitting on the couch awkwardly. “Uh what did you have to say” Kunigami stands up and sits closer to you, looking into your eyes. “I’m sorry about how I’ve been acting. I’m so sorry. You know I love you right? I’ve loved you ever since I laid eyes on you. I love everything about you. I messed up. I should’ve told you what’s been going on, I should’ve told you everything from the start. Baby, I lost. I got kicked out of blue lock. I’m sorry. I let you down. But they gave me another chance, I could redeem myself. I took it obviously, my dream couldn’t just end there. But baby it was so hard. So fucking hard. I had to train till my body gave out. They wouldn’t let me talk to anyone. I was so lonely and isolated. I struggled for others people entertainment. I’m sorry. There’s so much more I wish I could tell you but that’s not the point. I can’t use that as an excuse for how I treated you. I was a shitty boyfriend. I’m sorry. I regret everything that I said. Every single thing. I was just ashamed of myself. Embarrassed. Baby I should’ve never broken up with you. I’m so scared right now. I just broke up with the girl I want to marry, the girl I want to spend the rest of my life with, the girl who I love most. I’m sorry. Please just take me back.”

He looks back at you because you haven’t said anything. You’re crying. Shit did he say the wrong thing? “Babe?” “Fuck you ren” you stand up and go to your room. So this is it? Kunigami will never forgive himself. Just as he’s about to open the front door, you come running and you jump on his back.

“HEY where are you going??!!” Kunigami looks back, and sees you carrying tissues. Oh. You left to get tissues. He didn’t notice he was crying until you force his face down kissing his tears away. You lean your forehead into his. “We will talk about this in the morning okay? I’m too tired to think” Kunigami is speechless. What? “You’re not mad?” “Im absolutely pissed right now, but I know you’ve been through a lot so I’m letting you go easy just this one time”

He smiles just as he’s about to say something you kiss him. The kiss is passionate and hungry leaving both of you off of breath. “What was that for?” “Just missed my beautiful boy. Come give me cuddles we haven’t cuddled in months”

He smiles thinking about how lucky he got.