#listen... i know this is probably going to end up in heartbreak | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

saythenametotheworld · 9 months ago

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Backburner | k.mg (18+)

There is a rule of thumb for casual relationships: do not fall in love with the other. Yet with Mingyu, it felt easier to watch the world burn than to stop yourself from falling for him.

one | two | three | four | five

Genre: friends with benefits, smut Pairing: Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader Warnings: angst, explicit content (18+) Notes: 21k words. Part 2 of the Heartbreak Hotel series, but can be read as a standalone fic. Listening to Backburner by NIKI. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.

Playlist: Backburner by NIKI, Say Don't Go by Taylor Swift, Another You (Another Way) by Against the Current Taglist: @scoupsjin @iarayara @gaslysainz @silvermist002 @ssmebody @katfaceu

It was midnight, and what was usually a quiet evening was shattered by the persistent ringing of your phone—tucked inside the drawer of your nightstand. You shifted from your comfortable position on the bed, laying on your back to stare at the ceiling, your ringtone still playing and making the nightstand buzz faintly.

“You gotta be kidding me,” you muttered, groaning as you moved to grab your phone. The backlight made your eyes sting. Squinting at the words on the screen, you recognized the unique caller ID: ‘R18+++’

One week of nothing and here he comes, calling you in the middle of the night. The audacity.

You shouldn't pick up. You were mad at him after all. But what if he had something important to say? Even if he didn't, would it really hurt if you pick up?

Not you trying to justify the desire to talk to him.

“Hello?” you answered, against your better judgment (or not).

“Hi…” said Mingyu from the other line, his voice more dragged out than usual. Deeper. Lonelier. “Did I wake you?”

He did. “No. Not at all.”

He hummed on the other side. “Can't sleep? What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing important,” you sighed, sinking deeper into your soft pillow. “What’s up with you?”

“Me? I was just working on this paper,” he replied. You could hear him groaning as if he was stretching his limbs. “This course is kicking my ass.”

“Professor Jung?” you asked, remembering how he often complained about the same professor.

“Yeah. He’s the worst,” he chuckled but there was no humor in it. “I’ve been staring at this screen all night, trying to make sense of it. You know when you read the same line over and over, and it still doesn’t click?”

You hummed in acknowledgment, shifting on your bed. “Sounds like every assignment I’ve ever done.”

He let out another laugh, soft and hollow. “Right? This one’s on some theoretical nonsense. I keep typing, hoping something’s gonna make sense eventually, but it’s like... whatever. I’ll probably just wing it.”

You could hear the faint tapping of keys on his end as if he was still half-distracted by the work in front of him. But something felt off, and somehow, you knew exactly what it was. He didn’t really want to talk about the homework, he was just stalling. The words were just filler—something to pass the time, to keep the conversation going.

“Maybe I’ll just email the professor and tell him the dog swallowed my homework. Think he’d buy that?” Mingyu joked and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Probably not,” you replied with a soft smile of your own, but your mind was elsewhere now, sensing the heaviness behind his casual complaints.

“Yeah, I thought so,” he chuckled followed by a soft groan and the sound of him falling back on his bed.

Another pause settled between you, and this time you didn’t wait for him to fill it with more empty chatter. “Wanna come over?” you asked instead, and he was quiet for a moment.

“Well… yeah, I’d love to. I mean…” he paused and then chuckled. “If it’s alright.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course, it was alright. You’d always taken it in stride when he ghosted you and returned like nothing happened. Sometimes you wonder if he was genuinely oblivious or pretending not to know. “Sure. You know where I’ll be.”

After hanging up, you let the phone slip from your hand, staring at the ceiling. You weren’t supposed to do this. Mingyu was someone you should’ve been keeping at arm’s length, a complication you couldn’t afford. The smart thing would’ve been to ignore his call. But you didn’t. No matter how much you tried to keep your distance, you would always find yourself waltzing back towards him.

You thought about how easy it would be to send a quick message, tell him not to come, maybe even block his number if you really wanted to make a clean break. You should. A single text, a few words, and it would all be over. Your fingers hovered over the screen, but you didn’t type anything.

Then the knock came, gentle but firm, and you abandoned all protests, tossing them aside as easily as you tossed your phone back into the drawer. You didn’t hesitate as you crossed the room, your hand already reaching for the doorknob.

When you opened the door, there he was—tall, tousled hair, a lopsided smile, as if he wasn’t entirely sure you’d actually let him in.

“Hey,” Mingyu said softly, standing in the doorway like he’d been there dozens of times before—he had.

“Hi,” you replied, your heartbeat picking up pace, louder now that he was here, standing in front of you.

Without another word, he stepped inside, scooping you up by the waist like it was a habit, crashing his lips into yours. For a split second, your mind screamed at you to stop, to push him away, but your body wouldn’t listen.

You kissed him back, letting yourself sink into the feeling. His hands moved to your back, pulling you even closer, and any remaining hesitation crumbled as the tension between you both sparked to life.

He was completely unaware and lost in the moment, and you let him be because pretending felt easier than confronting the truth. It felt easier to let him kiss you like this, to let him believe everything between you was simple—as if you weren’t standing on the edge of something much bigger.

Mingyu pulled back just enough to look at you, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face with a grin. “Is Mina here?” His voice was teasing and light.

“You wouldn’t be here if she is,” you replied, breathless, your words barely forming as you watched him tug his sweater off, the urgency in his movements sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

For a moment, you stood there, watching as his sweater hit the floor, your heart racing against your better judgment. Here you go, again. You could stop it right here—send him home, tell him you don’t want to see him again even if that was a lie. Again, you didn’t. You reached for him, pulling him back toward you, his lips meeting yours with a kind of hunger that made you forget everything else.

The door clicked shut behind him, and with it, any resolve you thought you had.

“Wait, hold up. Let me just—” You made a rolling gesture with your fingers, trying to gather your thoughts. “—roll it back a bit. I think I went straight to the intense part.”

Seungcheol’s calm demeanor didn’t budge. He leaned back. “Didn’t feel intense to me.”

“Yeah, well…” You shifted in your seat. “I should’ve started by telling you how we met, right? Or how we even ended up in… this kind of arrangement.”

He nodded. “Context would help.”

You paused to sip your water. “Okay, so… I first met Mingyu in freshman year. Second semester, to be exact. We had one class together—gen-ed history. I was late the first day.” You smirked, remembering how rushed you’d been, with your shoes squeaking against the floor as you slipped into the back row, your heart pounding from running across campus.

The only available seat was next to Mingyu. You didn’t notice him at first because the odd silence of the lecture hall was the first to catch your attention.

You tugged his sleeve. “Hey, sorry to bother you.” You told him your name. “I just came in. Did I miss something important? I feel like I did.”

He glanced at you, brows slightly raised. He looked half amused, half confused. “I’m Kim Mingyu. And… yeah, you missed something. Professor gave us five minutes to pray for the diagnostic test.”

“Pray?” you’d repeated, your disbelief clear and your eyes wide as you stifled a laugh. “How hard could a gen-ed diagnostic exam be?”

Very hard.

You cringed at the memory of that test and how you didn’t know the answers for most of it. Mingyu was grinning beside you, walking in easy strides. “Still think you didn’t need those five minutes to pray?”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no bite to it. “Alright, fine. I’m humbled. But you don’t have to be so smug about it.”

He chuckled, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I’m just teasing. Anyway, don’t worry about it. The test won’t affect your grades or anything.”

Before you could respond, another classmate who overheard had stopped to join your conversation. “Actually, it does count. It goes straight into your record.”

Mingyu snorted, clearly doubting it. “No way. It’s just a pre-assessment.”

“The professor said so herself. You probably didn’t hear because you left too soon.” She looked at you with a sympathetic smile. “But hey, I bombed it too, so… you’re not alone.”

You felt a strange sense of closeness with her, but mostly, you were trying to process what that meant for your grades. “Great,” you muttered, but you weren’t sure if you were saying it sarcastically or just in defeat.

“I’m Mina, by the way,” she said, offering her hand for a shake.

“Nice to meet you,” you chimed, shaking her hand and telling her your name.

“See you around!”

When Mina walked away, you expected Mingyu to say something mocking, but instead, he just laughed lightly. “Guess I should’ve prayed too.”

Over the next few weeks, Mingyu became someone you interacted with mostly during class. You’d sit near each other by default—mainly because the two of you are often seated at the back, him because he was tall and you being chronically late. You exchanged hushed jokes when the professor wasn’t looking and sometimes teamed up when group discussions were required. But outside that lecture hall, you led entirely separate lives.

In the hallways, you’d pass by each other every now and then. He’d nod or smile—never stopping, never lingering. Just a brief acknowledgment as you walked in opposite directions. Sometimes, you’d give him a quick wave, or he’d send you a lazy salute with his fingers.

During class breaks, when the professor let everyone stretch their legs for a few minutes, you’d talk. Mingyu liked to complain about how boring the lectures were, though his grumbling always seemed exaggerated, more for humor than actual frustration.

“Think I might pass out,” he’d groan, letting his head drop to the desk dramatically. “I don’t know how anyone stays awake for this.”

“You’d stay awake if you actually took notes,” you’d tease back, scribbling in your notebook as you spoke.

“Ah, but see, that’s what friends are for,” he’d reply, flashing you a playful grin. “You can lend me yours later.”

“You’re lucky you’re funny,” you’d retort, shaking your head with a smile.

But that was it. When class ended, he went his way, and you went yours. He wasn’t someone who crossed your mind outside of that classroom, and you suspected it was the same for him. Mingyu wasn’t a constant presence in your life, just a classmate who made lectures slightly more tolerable.

There was a comfort in that distance. He was easy to talk to, someone you didn’t have to think too hard about. No expectations, no complications. Just small moments of shared boredom, passed with lazy smiles and half-hearted complaints.

For a while, that was all he was, someone who filled the pauses between lectures. That is until the night of your first off-campus party for the semester.

The music was pulsating around you, louder than it needed to be, vibrating through the floor and into your chest. You were seated at the edge of the crowded party, with a half-empty cup of something strong in your hand, and watching as your ex-boyfriend paraded his new girlfriend around. Every touch between them felt like a jab. You couldn’t care less about him, not really. But watching him be all giggly and touchy with her after he’d cheated on you with her, no less—yeah, that was annoying.

You took another sip from your drink, trying to keep your irritation in check. It didn’t help that they were standing close enough that you could hear snippets of their conversation—his low, stupid laugh and her breathy giggles.

“Someone’s pissed.”

The voice came from beside you, startling you out of your thoughts. You turned and found Mingyu standing there with a half-smile, hands tucked in his hoodie pockets as he glanced over at your ex and his new girlfriend.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, though your sarcasm was clear.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, amused. “Come on. I’ve seen you shoot daggers at them from across the room.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair and staring into your cup. “I’m not pissed. Just... annoyed.”

His eyes flicked over to the couple again, then back to you. “I get it. Ex-boyfriend?”

You hesitated but nodded. “Yeah. Not that it matters. We broke up.” You bit your lip before adding, “But he cheated on me with her. So, you know... watching them be all gross together isn’t exactly fun.”

Mingyu winced in sympathy. “That’s rough. Sounds like he’s not worth the headspace, though.”

“He’s not,” you said quickly, and you meant it. “But it’s still annoying.”

He snorted. “I don’t blame you. If it makes you feel any better, they look like a bad reality show couple.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Yeah, they kinda do.”

Mingyu shrugged, leaning a little closer, his voice dropping. “If it’s bugging you that much, want me to help you take your mind off it? We can head somewhere else, or... just stay here and make fun of them quietly. Your call.”

You hesitated, glancing at your ex one more time, then back at Mingyu. The idea of staying here, stewing in the background while they flaunted their new relationship, made your stomach turn. Maybe leaving was the better option.

“Actually,” you said, standing up and finishing the last of your drink, “let’s get out of here. This party’s boring anyway.”

Mingyu’s eyebrows shot up, clearly surprised but pleased. “Alright. Lead the way.”

The two of you slipped out of the crowded party and into the quieter night. The noise faded behind you as you stepped outside the cool air which was a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere of the party. You hadn’t really thought about where you were going, just that you needed to leave.

“Any place in mind?” Mingyu asked, falling into step beside you, hands still casually tucked into his pockets.

You scoffed. “I don’t know. This was your idea.”

He shrugged, glancing at the sky briefly before turning back to you. “We could walk a bit. Sober up.”

“I barely drank.”

Mingyu nodded. “Okay, fair. If you want, I’ve got some soju and beer at my place. Not much, but it’s better than whatever was in that cup you were drinking.”

You glanced at him. There was no pressure in his tone, no hidden motive—just a suggestion. Still, something about the idea of going to his place made your heart beat a little faster.

“Exactly how many ulterior motives do you have right now?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him in mock suspicion.

A grin spread across his face. “For now, zero,” he replied, showing a zero with his fingers.

“For now?” You rolled your eyes. “Better keep it at zero.”

Mingyu winced with a mock-hurt expression. “Do I have to make promises too? Man, this is a lot of work.”

“Kim Mingyu!”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, raising his hands. “Come on. It’s this way.”

The walk to Mingyu’s apartment wasn’t long, but the conversation between you was comfortable. He was funny, as always. By the time you reached his door, your cheeks were red and slightly hurting with how much you were laughing.

His place was a studio, small and cozy with a few mismatched pieces of furniture. It was tidy, except for the couch, which was covered in a pile of unfolded laundry.

“Oh, crap,” he muttered, laughing awkwardly. “I forgot about that. Let me just—”

“Oh, it’s okay. I don’t mind at all,” you said, waving your hand dismissively.

“Nah, there’s nowhere else to sit,” he insisted, kicking off his shoes and quickly tidying the couch.

While he put his clothes into a basket, you took a moment to look around. The tidiness of his home was unexpected. You rarely judge people’s living spaces but it was surprising for a man to be this clean. Then again, that was just the stereotype speaking.

Mingyu grabbed two beers from the fridge, tossing you one as you settled onto the now-cleared couch.

You raised an eyebrow, inspecting the can. “You promised me soju.”

He chuckled, opening his own drink. “Well, you told me to keep my motives in check, so soju is out of the table.”

“You’re so boring.”

As expected, conversations with Mingyu were always fun. You talked about class, made fun of the test you’d failed, and joked about the people at the party. But somewhere between the laughter and the quiet moments, the atmosphere began to shift. By and by, the space between you felt a little smaller, and the eye contact got a little longer.

At some point, Mingyu’s arm stretched across the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against your shoulder. You didn’t move away. Instead, you leaned into him slightly, feeling the warmth of his presence.

“I think you should go,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, momentarily confused but regained your computer fast enough to scoot away from him. “Wow, okay. There’s no need to shoo me away. I’ll go.”

You stood up instantly, reaching for your jacket but he grabbed your wrist.

“No, I'm not shooing you away. I mean—” he paused, sighing as he looked at your annoyed expression. “I’m sorry. Come sit. Don’t go.”

You didn’t answer, instead, you swatted his hand away and put on your jacket. Mingyu stood up, taking your hand and squeezing it.

“Please.”

You were exasperated. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you acting like this all of a sudden?”

There was a glint of hesitation on his face. “Can I be honest?”

You retracted your hand and crossed your arms over your chest. Then you raised an eyebrow, urging him to speak.

Mingyu leaned back slightly, his expression shifting to something more serious. “I have at least six ulterior motives.”

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Six?”

“Do you want to find out?” he asked back, but it didn’t seem like a question to know how curious you were. Somehow, it sounded as if he was asking for permission.

You held his gaze, feeling the warmth radiating from him. Time seemed to slow as you considered his question.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice steady but low. “Yes.”

Before you could think about what would come next, his hand slipped around your waist, pulling you just a little closer. There was no hesitation this time, no second thoughts. The tension that had been building all night finally found its release as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a tentative kiss.

You kissed him back, slowly at first, as if testing the waters, but it didn’t take long before the hesitation melted away. You know where this was going—but whether it was just the alcohol, the moment, or something more that drove you to do this, you didn't know. But for now, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way Mingyu’s lips felt against yours, and the desire building between you as you let yourself get lost in the moment.

Your fingers drummed rhythmically on the table, eyeing Seungcheol as if trying to gouge out his thoughts. His head was tilted slightly, thinking about your question: ‘What do you think happened next?’

“You became friends with benefits,” he said with certainty.

Your fingers stopped abruptly. “Really? You didn’t think we’d started dating after that?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Did you?”

“No,” you replied sheepishly. “But you seemed so sure that we were gonna be friends with benefits.”

“I had a hunch. It didn’t seem like your connection was building up to a romantic relationship just yet.”

You scowled, confused. “What do you mean? You didn’t think our connection was romantic?”

“Not at all. You were just friends. There was nothing that hinted any romance until the night you went to his flat.”

“Ah, I see what you mean.”

Seungcheol nodded, not smiling but he seemed pleased with himself. “So, what happened next?”

What happened next? You and Mingyu became friends with benefits, that’s what happened. Despite that arrangement, Mingyu was thoughtful in ways that made it hard to draw a clear line between what was casual and what wasn’t.

At university, nothing changed. You were still just classmates, maybe not even that close. You’d smile at each other in passing, maybe sit near each other in a lecture like usual, but that was it. To anyone else, you were barely acquaintances. But behind closed doors, it was different—passionate, fervent, and surreally euphoric.

Soon after that first night, you moved your rendezvous to your place. Your apartment was bigger than Mingyu’s tiny studio, with enough space for both of you to comfortably exist, though most of the time you didn’t bother with space. Whenever he came over, it didn’t take long for his hands to find you or for you to pull him in. There was something magnetic between you, like a spark that kept reigniting no matter how many times you tried to cool it down.

The passion was always there, and you were always eager to touch each other. Sometimes, you wouldn’t even make it to the bed—his lips on yours, your hands tugging at his shirt, and before you knew it, you’d be tangled in each other, the sheets forgotten. Other times, when the heat had subsided, you’d lay there talking, conversations flowing easily about anything and everything.

It was odd, in a way—how effortless it felt when you were alone together. You could laugh, joke, and even sit in silence without any discomfort. Yet, in public, it was like nothing existed between you. Mingyu never brought it up, and neither did you. It was easier that way. You weren’t together, after all, just two people who couldn’t get enough of each other when no one was watching.

Sometimes, the heat was so consuming, that it blurred the lines between passion and affection. And yet, after the fire died down, there was always this: Mingyu, showing up with bread that you loved, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“You’re here already?” you asked, surprised to see Mingyu standing in your living room, browsing your bookshelf like he had all the time in the world.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greeted, flashing a smile as he carefully returned a small ceramic bear to its place.

“How did you get here so fast? You texted me like ten minutes ago,” you said, dropping your bag on the sofa as you walked toward him.

“I was nearby,” he replied with a casual shrug, wrapping his arms around your waist. His lips met yours in a soft kiss, the familiar spark flickering between you again. When he pulled away, he said, “I picked up some bread on my way here.”

“You did? Is it the same ones you brought last time?” You couldn’t hide your excitement as you reached for the bakery bag he’d left on the coffee table.

He nodded, looking pleased with himself. “Yep, that’s the one.”

You sat in the living room that afternoon, talking over warm cups of chocolate and bread. You barely paid attention to the football game on the TV, giggling and pawing at each other, feeling cozy despite the cold weather outside.

At some point, Mingyu’s hands moved to squeeze your shoulders, and you sighed in contentment. “Thanks, I needed this,” you murmured, closing your eyes as his skilled fingers worked through the tension. It was one of Mingyu’s many skills, massages.

He leaned closer, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. “We should take this inside.”

You opened one eye, pretending not to understand. “Take what inside?”

Mingyu chuckled, his lips curving against your skin. “Well, if you want to do it here, that’s fine too but we should probably turn off the TV. I don’t feel comfortable having my idols watch,” he replied, making you turn to face him.

“Your idols?”

Mingyu shrugged and then nodded towards the TV where the football game was still on. Scoffing, you grabbed a throw pillow and hit him with it. You both laughed about it for a while, but eventually decided to lock yourselves in your bedroom.

Later that night, you stirred, the glow of a laptop screen pulling you from sleep. Blinking, you realized Mingyu was no longer beside you. He was sitting on the floor, his back resting against the bed, fingers tapping rapidly on the keys.

Reaching out, you squeezed his shoulder. “What are you doing?” you asked, your voice thick with sleep.

Mingyu paused, turning slightly to kiss your knuckles. “Go back to sleep, baby. I just need to finish this.”

“Can’t it wait till morning?” you mumbled, burying your face in the pillow.

He shifted closer, wrapping an arm around you. With a soft shush, he ran his fingers through your hair. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ll be done soon.”

You sighed, eyes fluttering shut as he kissed your forehead. At that moment, it seemed so normal, so typical of him. But you didn’t realize at the time—it was a sign that Mingyu had trouble sleeping through the night.

Mingyu had a way of making you feel seen. It wasn’t grand gestures or romantic proclamations, but in the little things he did—thoughtful acts that slipped under the radar until you realized just how much attention he paid. One time during class, he came over holding a tiny ceramic bear, almost shy as he handed it to you.

“What’s this?” you asked, turning the figurine over in your hands.

“I noticed that your bear family didn’t have a dad, so,” he said with a small grin, watching as your eyes lit up in recognition.

It was such a simple thing, but the fact that he remembered your collection, that he’d thought of you left you feeling touched.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you murmured, smiling. “But thanks.”

“It’s a grizzly, not a polar bear. Is that okay?”

“Are you kidding me? It’s perfect,” you giggled. “He’ll have to take up the responsibility of taking care of kids who aren’t his though.”

Mingyu shrugged, though there was a quiet satisfaction in his expression. “He’ll be a good stepdad to them. I can vouch.”

“You barely know the guy,” you laughed, playing along.

It wasn’t just gifts. Mingyu had a habit of taking care of the little things in your life without you even asking. Like the time the lightbulb in your bathroom had gone out. You didn’t mention it to him, but the next time he came over, he had a replacement bulb in his bag.

“Didn’t realize you were an electrician now,” you joked as he stood on a chair, screwing in the new bulb.

He laughed. “Just figured you’d forget to buy one.”

“I wasn’t going to forget,” you protested, even though he was right. “But… thanks.”

It was like that often with him—effortless, natural.

“Alright, let’s see,” he said, stepping down from the chair and reaching for the switch to test if it worked. When it did, he let out a satisfied hum. “There you go. Good as new.”

“How much for your labor, good sir?” you quipped, wiping away the tiny beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

The grin Mingyu gave you was menacing, shamelessly checking you out in your tank top and shorts. “I’ll have you know I do not accept monetary fees.”

You knew what he meant and he made it especially clear when he casually pressed his palm on your left boob. You just scoffed and swatted his hand away. “I see you work pro bono. Thanks a lot.”

With a teasing grin, you walked away. In the kitchen, he cooked dinner while you sat on the counter, munching on an apple. You found it amusing that the wok he used was something he had brought from his own flat. It's been in your kitchen for a while now. Today, he brought his own kitchen knife.

“You might as well move in at this rate,” you teased after he warned you to be careful with his sharp knife. “What’s next? A drawer for your clothes?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll consider it.”

“You might as well do since you’re here almost every day,” you jeered. “You should bring your own toothbrush too.”

“Ah, that reminds me.” He moved toward you, placing a kiss on your cheek as he rummaged through the paper bag resting on your lap. From there, he fished out two toothbrushes, holding them up like a peace offering. “Look. They came in pairs.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I use an electric toothbrush, you know.”

“Then keep it as a backup,” he shrugged, still grinning. “Or don't. It’s not a big deal.”

You’d joked at first, but eventually, you started using the toothbrush he brought. It felt like a small connection, something that tied him a little more closely to you, even if neither of you talked about it.

And he remembered everything. When you ordered food, he always knew exactly what you wanted without asking. “Chicken katsu with extra sauce,” he’d say, already placing the order.

He’d put on music that matched your mood perfectly, like the songs you loved but never had to mention. Even the book you had been reading—he remembered the title and asked if you’d finished it yet.

Those little moments kept piling up, making it harder to separate the physical nature of your relationship from the real deal. Every time he remembered, every time he took care of something small, you wondered if maybe this wasn’t just friends with benefits after all.

But then there were moments of uncertainty that made you question how much you really knew about him. Sometimes, in quiet moments, he would zone out, lost in his thoughts. You vividly remember one evening when you were curled up together on the couch, a movie playing softly in the background. You had been laughing at the antics on-screen, leaning into him, when you glanced over and found him staring blankly at the flickering light of the television.

When he slept over, you’d sometimes wake up to find him staring at the ceiling. His face was relaxed, but there was a tension in the way his jaw was set, a hint of a furrow in his brow. You reached out to touch his face, hoping to draw him back into the intimacy you cherished.

“Mingyu?” you'd whispered, your voice thick with sleep. He’d blinked, as if waking from a dream, and he turned to you then. For a brief moment, you saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes before he masked it with a smile. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking,” he replied, his voice trailing off. You could see it in his eyes—something was weighing heavily on him, a thought he was wrestling with that he didn’t want to share.

“About what?” you prodded, trying to gouge out something—anything that he’s willing to share. He shifted slightly as if the question made him uncomfortable.

“Just stuff. Don’t worry about it,” he said, a noncommittal answer that only left you more curious. He pulled you closer in a warm embrace. “Let’s go back to sleep.”

The way he shrugged it off felt like a wall going up between you, and for a moment, the warmth of his embrace dissipated. You didn’t push further; you never wanted to pressure him. Instead, you closed your eyes, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

You wanted to know, to understand what made him so distant at times, but every time you tried to get closer, he would slip away like sand through your fingers. You had asked about it in passing, and while he always deflected your inquiries with a joke or a change of subject, it left you wondering if there was more to his silence. You didn’t want to overthink it; after all, it didn’t happen often. Or so you told yourself, hoping that with time, he would open up.

But instead of that, Mingyu disappeared, leaving behind an emptiness that echoed in the spaces where he once filled your days with warmth and laughter.

“Are you keeping up?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow at Seungcheol who seemed to be quite slow at processing what you’d just told him.

“Yeah, of course. Though, I’m not gonna lie. I’m a little lost,” he admitted with his arms crossed and holding his chin. “If you don’t mind, can I ask why he disappeared?”

You smirked, standing up at once. “I’m gonna need a drink for this.”

Seungcheol’s understood. “By all means.”

Mingyu’s disappearance wasn’t sudden or unexpected; there were signs you hadn’t recognized until he was gone. It began with him replying late to your messages, then not replying at all. You’d see him in class, and when you approached, he didn’t avoid you outright but dodged your questions and made excuses to avoid conversation. Eventually, he started sitting on the opposite side of the lecture hall, far from you and even missed a handful of classes.

You were upset, not just because he chose to stop seeing you but because he didn’t give you any warning. You had been easing into it, getting used to the idea of something more. But when he left so abruptly, you felt foolish.

Still, you had to come to terms with the fact that there was no commitment between you—what you shared was temporary, and he was free to walk away just as you were. It didn’t change the fact that his action was a total jerk move.

“It’s okay. We were just fooling around anyway,” you told yourself after almost two weeks of silence. You forced a smile at your reflection in the mirror. “That’s right. You’ll be fine.”

You tried to push Mingyu out of your mind, diving into a busy social life—going out with friends and meeting new people. At one party, you were in the midst of flirting with a cute guy when you spotted Mingyu across the room. A wave of warmth washed over you at the sight of him, but you played it cool, pretending to be engrossed in your conversation.

“So, are you always at Jinwoo’s party?” you asked, trying to sound charming but feeling more like a dork.

“Only when there’s free food,” he replied, a little too eagerly.

You forced a laugh, trying to play along. “Well, they do have snacks... and drinks.”

He leaned in closer. “You know, I’m really into snacks. Like, I could talk about snacks all night.”

Your stomach turned slightly at the sudden wave of ick. You couldn’t tell if he was serious, or just saying it to be funny. What the hell does that even mean?

You caught a glimpse of Mingyu from the corner of your eye, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching the exchange with an amused expression. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you realized how embarrassing this was—Mingyu was listening, and you couldn’t bear the thought of him hearing you flounder like this.

“Right, snacks. That’s... cool.” You shot him a tight smile, glancing around the room in a bid to escape. “Speaking of snacks, I’m gonna go get me some more. Excuse me,” you smiled and slipped away from the guy, the weight of Mingyu’s gaze following you as you headed outside.

“Wow, that was awful,” Mingyu said, appearing beside you just as you stepped into the cool air.

“You,” you spat, glaring at him.

“Hello to you too,” he replied, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

You narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms. “What’s your opinion on people eavesdropping on other’s conversations instead of minding their own business?”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” he teased, though the grin on his face suggested otherwise. “I can’t help it if you guys were loud enough for me to hear, can I?”

“That doesn’t change the fact that it’s none of your business,” you replied smartly, looking away with a frown.

Mingyu’s laugh was deep, the kind that made your stomach twist in a way that was all too familiar. “Alright. I’m sorry. How about hanging out with me so you need not deal with all those lame guys?”

“Pretty sure you’re much much lamer,” you scoffed.

He called your name softly, a teasing smile playing on his lips but his eyes were more serious than before. You failed to ignore the way your heart began to race. “Lighten up. I missed you, you know.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Do you now?”

“I did.” Mingyu’s gaze flickered to your lips for a split second before he grinned again. “I missed you so much, I thought I’d go nuts.”

The confession caught you off guard but your annoyance was stronger. You scoffed, struggling to hold back and trying not to just go ahead and smack him. “Then you shouldn’t have ghosted me like that.”

His smile faltered slightly. The air between you shifted again, the playful banter fading into something heavier. Mingyu didn’t respond right away, and the silence that followed wasn’t awkward—just filled with something unspoken.

After a long pause, he finally nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry about that.”

You smirked, looking away and fixing your gaze into nothing. He should be sorry, it’s only right to be. But the fact remained: you were not in the kind of relationship where you could hold him hostage for something he was allowed to do. Yet here you were, feeling more hurt than you were allowed to be.

You let the silence hang between you, thick with unspoken tension. It went on for a while before it was broken by the sound of people clambering out of the main door, their drunken laughter echoing in the cool night air.

“Wanna get out of here?” Mingyu finally asked, breaking the spell.

“Took you long enough to ask,” you replied, striding toward the street with him following closely behind.

As you were passing by the parking lot filled with cars, Mingyu suddenly grabbed your hand. “We’re not walking to your apartment. That’s like a mile-long hike.”

“What?” you asked, confused but still allowing him to lead you toward a black SUV.

He opened the passenger door and gestured for you to get in. While he rounded the car to the driver’s side, you glanced around the unfamiliar interior, a fleeting thought crossing your mind that maybe this wasn’t his car. But as soon as he slid into the seat and turned the key in the ignition, you relaxed a little.

“Please tell me this is yours and you didn’t just steal it.”

Mingyu chuckled, his smile easing some of your lingering unease. “Why would you think that?”

“Because last time I checked, you didn’t have a car,” you replied, watching him navigate the vehicle out of the parking lot.

“Oh, this is my dad’s. He’s letting me borrow it while I’m staying with them.”

You blinked, surprised. That was the first time Mingyu had mentioned his family or anything about his life outside of university. Naturally, curiosity sparked in you.

“You moved back to your family’s house?” you asked, hoping to finally get some insight into where he’d disappeared to.

“Yeah, had to,” he said casually, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

“Why?”

He hesitated, fingers tightening on the steering wheel for just a second before he shrugged. “Just some stuff came up. Nothing major.”

There was something vague about his response, and you could sense the conversation wasn’t going to go any deeper. He’d always been good at deflecting when it came to his personal life.

You nodded, accepting the explanation without pressing further, even though the curiosity still lingered in the back of your mind. It was frustrating, but at the same time, you’d gotten used to the fact that Mingyu shared only what he wanted, and nothing more. Maybe it was just his way of keeping distance—emotional distance, that is.

When you arrived at your apartment, you barely had time to take a breath before Mingyu’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you into him. It was like being caged, but in a way that made you feel safe, wanted. You couldn’t explain how much you had missed this—missed him. His warmth, his touch, the way his presence alone seemed to fill the space around you.

As you moved together from the living room to the bedroom, it felt inevitable, like gravity pulling you into his orbit once again. You knew you were letting yourself fall, diving headfirst into the abyss of passion and euphoria that was Kim Mingyu. And yet, even knowing that, you didn’t stop yourself.

You couldn’t.

“You missed me, didn’t you?” he whispered as he took your breast in his mouth.

Yes, you wanted to scream out, but all that ever left your mouth was a lewd moan. And when he heard that, he slid a hand under your dress, moving down to your hips and slipping inside your lace panties to put pressure there. He caressed your sex slowly, and then urgently in circling motions while his kisses trailed up from your breast to your neck, nipping at the supple skin before they found your lips.

Your hands had a mind of their own, greedily removing his jacket, and then running your fingers on the firm muscles and warm skin underneath. As the pleasure grew, it clouded your brain and you clung your arms around his neck in fear that your trembling legs would collapse under you.

“Lie down, baby,” he rasped in your ear, pushing you gently towards the bed.

You let yourself fall on the mattress, bouncing slightly. You watched as he undid his belt and kicked off his jeans before moving to undress you out of your dress. You saw how he ogled your body with those beautiful lustful eyes before he hovered over you and traced the outline of your face with his fingers.

“Do you have any idea how amazing you are?” he whispered. He slid a finger into your mouth and you sucked it, making him exhale sharply and dive in to kiss you feverishly.

You were almost breathless with desire, your skin prickling with anticipation of what was about to happen—of what Mingyu was about to do. You could feel him against your thigh, hot and hard, so you spread your legs open, welcoming him.

And then with one push, he was filling you—stretching you in the most exquisite way possible. His body pressed against you as he thrust in and out in a rhythm that sent ripples of pleasure through every single nerve in your body.

And all of a sudden, he stopped, leaving you momentarily confused. He stood up and said, “Come here.”

Without a word, you obliged, walking toward him in a haste. He then spinned you around so you were facing the full-length mirror in the corner of your room. “Take a good look at yourself.”

You saw yourself in the mirror; messy hair, flushed cheeks, and your lips swollen from kissing. You could see him in your reflection, standing behind you with fire in his eyes. You watched as he reached for your breast, while his other hand cupped your sex, collecting the slick in his hand before bringing it to his tongue.

You gasped at how hot he looked, and seeing your reaction made Mingyu grin. Without warning, he pushed you back on the bed, lifted you by the waist so your ass was sticking out. Then he pressed your face on the mattress before you felt a sharp, delightful pain on your buttcheek where he smacked you with his palm.

“Oh, Mingyu!” you cried out.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “That’s not loud enough, baby.”

“Mingyu, please!” you begged, needing nothing but to be filled again.

Once again, he pushed his cock inside you, making you whimper in the most obscene manner.

“Fuck,” he grunted. His fingers dug hard into your hips as he thrust deeply and vigorously. Your hand held onto the sheets, pleasure so intense that you couldn’t think anymore—you couldn’t even see your own naked, sweaty self in the mirror in front of you. But you could hear the sound of bodies slamming into each other again and again and a breathless moan that must have been coming from your own throat.

When the ecstatic high engulfed the two of you, he loosened his hold of your waist and your legs felt so weak you could barely hold yourself up. So you collapsed on the bed, followed by Mingyu, panting beside you with a satisfied look on his face.

“How was that?” he said smugly, knowing damn well how wonderful he made you feel.

You just laughed, snuggling into him as you put off washing up for a few more minutes.

The heated passion gave way to a quiet intimacy as you both settled into bed. The sound of rain tapping against the window filled the silence, soothing and rhythmic.

You chatted lazily about random things—music, classes, friends—until you finally gathered the courage to ask, “What happened to you? Where’ve you been?”

“I’m really sorry. I got busy with school and stuff at home,” Mingyu replied, his tone casual. But you could sense something unspoken beneath his words, as always. “Did you miss me?” he added, trying to keep it light.

You had missed him. A lot. But you weren’t about to admit that. “Barely. Didn’t even notice you were gone.”

Mingyu chuckled, clearly not buying it. “Is that why you were out there flirting with every cute guy you meet?”

You raised an eyebrow, grinning. “You seem to know an awful lot about me. One might think you’re interested or something.”

He laughed softly, the kind of laugh that made your stomach flutter. “You’ll find that I am, in fact, very interested,” he said with a quiet conviction. And suddenly, the air between you shifted again, filled with tension—desire mingling with uncertainty.

“Say,” Mingyu began, his voice lowering as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Do you want to be exclusive?”

Your heart raced at the word. “Exclusive…? Like—”

“Like not sleeping with other people,” he clarified, though that wasn’t quite the question you were about to ask.

You were about to ask if he meant dating. Thank God you didn’t.

“Oh…” you trailed off, unsure how to respond. “Why?”

Mingyu shrugged, his tone still casual. “No reason. It’s okay if you don’t want to. You’re free to do whatever you want. But… it’d be nice, don’t you think?”

There was no reason to say no. The truth was, you’d stopped considering other guys long ago, the moment this thing with Mingyu began. Still, his offer made your heart race—both giddy and nervous. But there was no way you’d let him see that.

“I don’t know. Doesn’t seem like a fair deal,” you quipped, hiding behind banter.

Mingyu narrowed his eyes at you, curious. “Wait, what does that mean?”

You shrugged again, refusing to elaborate, though it didn’t really mean anything.

“Hold on—what?” He sat up, feigning shock, and flexed his arms dramatically. “You don’t think this is a fair deal?”

“Where?” you teased, squinting at his muscles like you couldn’t see them.

Mingyu grinned and started flexing even harder, pointing out specific muscles like they were on display. “You seriously don’t see this? Look closely and tell me this isn’t a fair deal.”

You giggled, reaching for him with your toes. Grinning, he grabbed your foot and pulled you toward him. The sudden tug made you squeal.

“Come on, baby, take it back.” He leaned down, hovering over you, eyes soft. “Take it back while I’m still being nice.”

“I didn’t ask you to be nice,” you taunted, your coy smile daring him.

Mingyu chuckled low in his throat. “You’re extra beautiful when you’re naughty, did you know that?”

“No idea,” you replied, grinning as he leaned in, capturing your lips again. When his hand cupped your boob, you pulled away from the kiss and pushed him off. “No.”

“Aw, fine,” he sighed in defeat, falling next to you on the bed. Quietly, he settled behind you, wrapping an arm around your torso and sliding his other arm under your head. “Get some rest.”

He didn't say much after that, but there was a warmth in the way he pulled you closer, an unconscious act of intimacy that made your chest tighten.

It hit you then—how much you’d come to crave moments like this, not just the passion, but the feeling of being with him, of having him there with you in the silence. You’d never felt this way before, not even with past relationships, and the realization made your heart race. You were falling for him, had already fallen. It wasn’t the way he teased you or the way he kissed you, but the quiet moments in between, where you felt like he saw you, really saw you.

It had been a long week. Between schoolwork, dealing with your chaotic schedule, and pretending like everything with Mingyu was still as casual as it used to be, you were exhausted. The tension gnawed at you—this thing between you two was starting to feel like more than it should. It wasn’t something you were ready to acknowledge yet, but it lingered in the back of your mind.

You walked into your apartment after a particularly grueling day, half-expecting the silence to greet you. When you walked into the kitchen for water, you found a small plastic bag filled with food on the table. Next to it was a tiny ceramic panda bear, about half the size of your palm.

You blinked, trying to process it. It wasn’t there this morning. Mingyu must’ve stopped by.

You walked over to the counter, looking at the items. Inside the bag were a couple of your favorite snacks—nothing big, just the kind of things you liked to nibble on when you were too tired to cook. There was no note, but the panda felt like something only he would give you. It was cute in an oddly sentimental way, like he knew you’d smile at it.

You heard a knock at the door and quickly set the bear back on the counter, hurrying to open it. Mingyu stood there, casual as ever.

“Hey,” he said, flashing you that familiar, easygoing grin.

“Hey,” you replied, smiling back. “Did you stop by earlier? Or do I have a creepy psychopathic stalker who’s obsessed with me and thinks it’s romantic to leave food for me at home while I’m away?”

Mingyu laughed heartily. “What are you gonna do if the creepy psychopathic stalker was me?”

“I’m calling the police,” you told him, closing the door to his face. He didn’t stop you, nor did he knock for about thirty seconds after you closed the door so you opened it again. “Come on in, then.”

“I was in the area so I thought I’d drop by and surprise you but you weren’t home,” he explained, kicking his shoes off at the foyer.

“Snacks and a panda?” you asked, raising an eyebrow but smiling. “That’s quite a combination.”

Mingyu shrugged, a soft laugh escaping him. “I saw it in this shop near campus. And I figured if it was you, you wouldn’t leave it alone in that shop.”

“I don’t go around adopting every bear figurine I see, Mingyu,” you snorted, picking up the panda again.

“Maybe, but since he’s already here, you should have it up there with your little bear family,” he beamed, taking the panda from your hand and placing it up on the shelf with the rest of your bear collections. “She can be their Chinese aunt.”

“Because she’s from China?” you asked and saw him nod his head. You both laughed. “I’m sure they appreciate you making their family bigger.”

“Thanks for saying that,” he smiled, not the mischievous kind of smile that he usually sported, but a sincere one—as if he was touched by your statement. “I’m glad I could make them happy,” he added, staring at the bear family.

You stared at him for a moment, something warm and unfamiliar swelling in your chest. This wasn’t just some casual fling anymore, was it? You tried to play it cool, but the way he just knew—the way he quietly showed up in your life, making you feel special in small but wonderful ways—made it harder to keep pretending you didn’t care. You could only hope he’d open up to you and let you into his world. That way, you could love him properly.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “It’s cute.”

“Yeah?” he asked, turning his gaze back at you. “You’re cute.”

You rolled your eyes, though your heart skipped a beat. “Shut up.”

Mingyu chuckled, leaning against the wall, watching you with an unreadable expression. It was like he wanted to say something but was holding back. You were holding back too, both of you toeing the line of something you could not bring up.

“I’ll make you dinner,” you offered, trying to fill the silence.

“You don’t have to,” Mingyu replied, but you were already walking toward the kitchen, grateful for the distraction.

The rest of the evening was spent with each other’s company, sitting together on the sofa with your head resting on his chest as he absentmindedly stroked your hair. The silence wasn’t awkward or strained; if anything, it was soothing, the kind of peace that made you feel safe and whole.

It is in moments like this that you realize you need not fill every moment with words. Being with him like this was comfortable and nice.

Mingyu shifted slightly, one hand holding your shoulder as he reached for his phone on the coffee table. You glanced up at him, watching as the light from the screen cast soft shadows across his face. You’d memorized every detail of how he looked by now—the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, that playful smirk he always wore. But tonight, something about him felt different. His dark hair, slightly disheveled, framed his forehead just the right way, and you couldn’t help but think of how soft it looked—how soft it felt the mornings you ran your fingers through it when he was half-asleep. He always looked good, like some kind of casual perfection, but right now, with his face relaxed in the glow of the phone, he looked almost unreal.

You’d thought he was handsome the day you met him—he’d always had that charm that caught you off guard—but now, now that you’d spent nights tracing every inch of him, mornings laughing at how messy his hair could get, and afternoons like this where he seemed so unaware of how much space he took up in your thoughts... it hit you all over again. He wasn’t just good-looking. He was beautiful in a way that made you ache a little, like your mind couldn’t fully comprehend that someone like him was sitting here with you.

His voice broke through your reverie, a gentle reminder that this wasn’t some dream you’d conjured up. He really was here. “Ah, I almost forgot. Exams start tomorrow. Are you ready?”

You pressed your lips together in a tight line, suddenly reminded of the real world. “I’ve gone through all my notes, but I’m not sure,” you muttered, the conversation feeling trivial compared to what was really on your mind. You weren’t thinking about exams. You were thinking about how, with him beside you like this, nothing else seemed to matter.

“We could pray,” he snickered. “For our grades.”

You rolled your eyes. “As if you have to. You’re gonna ace everything and graduate with flying colors.”

Mingyu chuckled. “We’re freshmen—ages away from graduation.”

“Yes, but if you continue at your current pace, you’d really graduate with distinction.”

He hummed, kissing your forehead. “You think too highly of me. I like it more when you used to call me a himbo. Less pressure.”

Without thinking, you let out a soft sigh, turning to look at him. Really look at him. His focus had shifted back to his phone, his long fingers casually scrolling through whatever app he was on, but there was a subtle tension in his jaw, like maybe he was thinking about something too.

“Let’s go to bed. I’m tired,” you said, nuzzling into his shirt.

Mingyu sighed, pulling you closer as he placed his phone down. “Sorry. I have to be home tonight.”

“Oh.” You didn’t mean for it to sound so disappointed, but it slipped out anyway.

Mingyu rubbed the back of his neck, clearly sensing the shift. “I just have to help out at home tonight. My parents…” He trailed off, leaving the explanation half-formed, and you didn’t press him for more.

“Right. Of course,” you said, forcing a small smile. “You don’t have to explain.”

There was an awkward pause before he kissed the top of your head again, his voice soft. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” You sat up as he rose from the couch, the warm space he left behind feeling a little colder already.

Mingyu grabbed his jacket from the chair, glancing at you with a small, apologetic smile. “I’ll text you.”

You nodded, watching as he left, and once the door clicked shut behind him, the silence of the room felt a little too loud.

“He’s just busy with exams,” you told yourself, sitting in your living room with your elbows propped on your knees, chin in your hands. You stared at the bears on the bookshelf, speaking to them as though they could somehow offer an answer. “Or maybe he had stuff to take care of at home.”

It had been four days, and you hadn’t heard from Mingyu. He texted after he left your apartment like he said he would, but after that—nothing. The last thing he mentioned was that he was spending time with his father. But then, radio silence.

“He should at least check in on me, right?” you muttered, leaning back into the sofa. “It’s been four days.”

Just as you were spiraling further into your thoughts, your phone buzzed in your hand, making you sit back up with a jolt. Your heart raced at the thought of Mingyu finally texting you, but your excitement died down as quickly as it came. It was just Mina.

Mina: otw to pick u up. U ready?

“Oh, shit,” you cursed, bolting upright. You scrambled to your bedroom, throwing on the first outfit you could find that was semi-decent for a party.

You spent the next five minutes getting ready, knowing Mina lived nearby and would be here in less than ten minutes. By the time you heard the knock on your door, you were almost done with your makeup, except for the lipstick that you decided you’d do in the car.

“Coming!” you called out, rushing to slip on your shoes as you headed for the door. But when you flung the door open, it wasn’t Mina standing outside.

Mingyu stood there, his hands tucked into his hoodie pockets, wearing the faintest of smiles. “Hi.”

“Mingyu!” you exclaimed, gripping the doorknob to resist the urge to leap into his arms. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d drop by. Is now a bad time?”

“No! I mean, yes—kinda! I’m going to Hoshi’s party,” you rambled.

Mingyu nodded, a flicker of realization crossing his face. “Ah! I was supposed to go there too. Should we go together?”

“My friends are already on their way to pick me up,” you said quickly, wincing. “Come inside for a bit.”

You pulled him in by the sleeve, shutting the door before Mina could catch you in this whirlwind of confusion. Mingyu was here—after four days of nothing—and suddenly, all those unspoken thoughts came rushing back. Why hadn’t he reached out? What was going on?

“You said you’re supposed to go to the party?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Yeah,” he answered, walking closer and resting his forehead on your shoulder. His sigh was long, deep, and heavy. Much heavier than you expected.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, placing a gentle hand on his back.

“Yeah, it’s just… I’ve been exhausted these days,” he confessed, sighing again. He wrapped his arms around your waist. “Let’s just stay like this for a while.”

And you did. You let him stay there, gently stroking his back in hopes that it would bring him comfort from whatever it was that was bothering him. It was as if you could sense the weight of his worries pressing down on him.

In that silence, your mind raced. You wanted to ask what was wrong, but something in his demeanor urged you to hold back. Instead, you focused on the rhythm of his breathing, the steady rise and fall of his chest. He needed this comfort, and for now, it felt like enough to be there for him. You didn’t move, not even when you heard the first series of knocks on your door. You just stood there, giving Mingyu the warmest hug you could offer.

When the second knocks came, followed by Mina’s voice calling your name, Mingyu pulled away. “Is that your ride?”

“Yeah,” you replied softly, almost in a whisper.

He smiled at you, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear, lingering for a moment—thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw. “I’ll see you there, then.”

“Alright,” you whispered, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. “I’ll go first, okay? You can stay for as long as you need.”

“Thanks,” he said, kissing your lips softly.

In the car with your friends, your mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Mingyu. Is he okay? What happened? Why did he seem upset and sad? Where was he these past few days?

“Where’s Mingyu these days?” Mina asked, tugging on your elbow to get your attention. “You guys are close, right?”

“Huh?” you asked, surprised by the question. What you have with Mingyu wasn’t a secret, but you didn’t openly tell other people about it. Whenever someone noticed that you seemed close, you always told them that you were friends. And in a way, you were.

Mina tilted her head slightly, confused. “Was I wrong? I thought you two got along.”

“Oh, yeah. We’re friends.”

Mina said, “I haven’t seen him around campus in a while. Is he okay?”

“I think he’s fine, yes. Why’d you ask?” you replied.

“Well, something happened a few days ago,” Mina said, hesitating. She turned to Jill, your other friend who’s driving. “Jill, tell her what happened.”

You met Jill’s gaze in the mirror briefly. “Lea and I saw him getting slapped outside the campus.”

Your heart ached. “When was it? Who hit him?”

“It was probably his mom,” said Lea, glancing at you from the shotgun seat. “She looked like it and Mingyu got in her car after. Luckily there weren’t many people there and I think only a few noticed. But he seemed really depressed at the time.”

You leaned on the backrest of your seat, crossing your arms over your chest as you wondered about Mingyu. Is he having problems at home? Is that why he was upset?

“You’re worried. You must be close,” Mina said, probing for answers about your relationship with him.

“He’s my friend. Of course I’m worried.”

When you reached the party, you were stuck with your friends for a while, playing a round of drinking games with other people. When that was over, and you’d managed to slip away unnoticed, you searched the crowd for Mingyu.

You leaned against the wall, holding a half-full cup of punch, scanning the crowd. You spotted him nearby, talking to a group of friends, his usual easy smile lighting up his face. You smiled too, watching him. It was almost effortless with him, how he could make everyone around him feel comfortable. You’d noticed it before—Mingyu was always the life of the party wherever he went.

But then you remembered what your friends told you, and the smile faltered from your lips. How much pain was he hiding behind those sweet smiles? Were they fake the whole time? Or were they real and was he only able to smile this much outside his home? What was going on with his life? With him? At this point, the most fitting question would be, ‘Who is he really?’

You were about to join him when you noticed someone approach him—some girl you hadn’t seen before. She was tall, pretty, with perfectly styled hair and an outfit that screamed confidence. She touched Mingyu’s arm lightly, leaning in to say something that made him chuckle. It was a small, polite laugh, the kind he gave when he didn’t want to be rude, but that didn’t stop the knot from forming in your chest.

You tried to ignore it, reminding yourself that it didn’t mean anything. But when she took another step closer to him, her fingers lingering on his arm, you felt a strange tightness, a familiar sensation that crawled under your skin.

Jealousy.

Jealousy was a strange thing. You had never felt it before—not like this. The idea of losing him, even though you weren’t “together,” made your stomach flip.

Mingyu’s eyes flicked over the room, and then they landed on you. For a split second, you thought about looking away, playing it cool. But the look in his eyes, the way his face softened when he saw you, stopped you in your tracks. He smiled—his real smile, the one that made his eyes crinkle at the corners—and the knot in your chest loosened a little.

Without a word, Mingyu took a small step back from the girl and made his way over to you. You tried to act casual, leaning against the wall as if your heart wasn’t racing.

“Hey,” he said, his voice warm and familiar. He stood close, the heat of his presence drawing you in.

“Hey,” you replied, trying not to let the relief show on your face.

“Enjoying the party?” he asked, leaning in slightly so you could hear him over the music.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you said, shrugging. “You seem popular tonight.” You couldn’t help the slight edge in your voice, even though you tried to play it off as a joke.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the subtle tone. “You mean her?” he asked, tilting his head toward the girl who was now talking to someone else. “She’s just being friendly.”

“Friendly, huh?” you replied, taking another sip of your drink. “Looked like she was being a little too friendly.”

Mingyu laughed softly, stepping even closer. His hand brushed against your arm, sending a familiar warmth through you. “Did you know I like my women territorial?” he teased, but his tone was gentle.

You scoffed, trying to hide the sudden rush of embarrassment. “Go find yourself someone territorial then,” you said, bumping your shoulder against his when you pushed past him.

Mingyu chuckled, turning to grab your wrist and stop you from leaving. “I don’t need to find one.” He tugged you towards him, hugging you from behind and planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek. “I have my territorial girl right here.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered. “Get off me. Why are you doing this in public?” you chided, shaking him off but not putting in any strength to actually get away from him.

“Oh, is this not allowed?” he asked and you were about to fire a retort when you caught your friends’ gazes from across the room. You felt your cheeks flare, looking away to avoid Mina’s teasing grin.

“Get off.” You pushed him away and straightened your clothes.

Mingyu chuckled heartily, tugging your shoulder so you’d face him. He was smiling softly, a softness that made you feel seen in a way that was more intimate than anything else. “Don’t worry. I’m yours exclusively.”

You stared at him, trying to read what was on his mind. You wish you could, but it was impossible.

The words hit you harder than you expected. Exclusively? He must be talking about the fact that you were exclusive fuck buddies. You wished he wasn’t, but you’d rather not have false expectations.

“I know,” you said, your voice quieter now.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension hung in the air between you, thick and unspoken. You didn’t need to say anything more. You both understood.

“Mingyu!” shouted someone from across the room. You both turned your heads in the direction of the voice and saw a guy waving for Mingyu. “Come on, man! It’s your turn!”

Mingyu chuckled, waving back. “You guys continue without me!” he shouted back. Then he took your hand, fingers lacing through yours, and gave it a small squeeze. “Wanna ditch?”

You shrugged.

“Come on. I know you want to leave and go for burgers right now.”

You felt a smile tug at your lips. “Did you just read my mind?”

“No, but I have a manual in my head with your name on it, and that information is saved here,” he replied, pressing an index finger to his temple.

“You’re so obsessed with me. Aren’t you embarrassed?” you quipped, pushing off the wall and walking toward the door, feeling the familiar warmth of Mingyu’s presence right behind you.

The night ended in your apartment, as expected. In the heat of the moment, you set aside everything—your confusion, the questions, everything. There was only you and him in this moment of passion. Once more, you let yourself spiral into the momentary distraction of pleasure. And when the high slowly dissipated, you found yourself in the warm bathtub, with your back leaning on Mingyu’s chest.

“Are you staying?” you asked softly. “Over, I mean. Or do you need to go home?”

“I’d love to stay,” he replied. “Is that okay?”

“Of course it is.” You closed your eyes, content with his answer. “I don’t even want you to leave,” you blurted before you could stop yourself.

Mingyu chuckled lightly. “I don’t want to leave either. I wish I could just stay here. Forever, if that’s even possible,” he said and it left a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Oh yeah? Then why do you—” You bit your lip, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden. You weren’t used to confronting things like this. You looked up to meet his gaze, looking into his eyes. “Where will you disappear next time, Kim Mingyu?”

For a second, his expression shifted—just a flicker of something in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite read. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet certainty. “Not unless you want me to.”

Your chest tightened. His words were simple, but the weight behind them hit you harder than you expected. How long had you been waiting to hear something like that? To know that, at least for now, he was yours, and he wasn’t going to slip away without warning like he had before.

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice again. “No. I don’t want you to go.”

Mingyu smiled, that same easygoing grin that always seemed to make everything feel okay, even when it wasn’t. “Then stop worrying,” he said, his thumb still tracing those soft circles on your skin.

He didn’t make a promise, and maybe you should’ve asked for one. Because even though he stayed for a while, it didn’t stop him from fading away all over again.

You were at Mina’s apartment, sitting on the edge of her bed while she packed her things. Beside you, Jill was cradling a bag of chips, pointedly refusing to share.

“I still don’t get why you’re moving out,” Jill grumbled, slapping your hand when you reached for a chip. She shot you a glare and continued, “Can’t you just tell your parents you don’t want to live with them?”

“Asian parents,” Mina sighed, shaking her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Exactly! I don’t understand why they’d move to another state just to follow you here,” Jill said, incredulous. “That’s some next-level parenting!”

“They moved because they can’t stand being away from their daughter,” you chimed in, swiping a protein bar from Jill’s stash. “Also because they can.”

“Yeah, and that’s why it’s so confusing,” Jill scoffed, gesturing toward Mina. “My parents love me too, but they wouldn’t move out of their hometown just to keep me close. Are all Asian parents like hers? Do they really want their grown-ass kids living at home?”

You shrugged. “I’m not sure, but it happens more often than you’d think.” Your mind briefly wandered to Mingyu, remembering how he’d moved back in with his parents.

Before you could say more, music blared from outside the bedroom, cutting through the conversation. You looked up to see Lea entering the room, a towel draped over her shoulders like a makeshift cape. She carried a speaker in one hand, which she promptly set down on the nightstand.

“You say!” she belted, voice dramatic as she launched into the opening lines of a Hamilton song. “The price of my love is not a price that you’re willing to pay!”

The three of you groaned in unison.

Mina rolled her eyes, standing up to shove Lea out of the room. “Get out, nerd,” she said, feigning annoyance but unable to hide her smile.

“She’s sad. Let her grieve,” you teased, glancing toward the door where Lea continued knocking persistently.

Mina sighed and switched off the speaker, silencing the music. “She’s just overdramatic, that’s what she is. It’s not like we won’t see each other anymore.”

“Maybe you won’t,” you said, shrugging. “Who knows? Some people like to disappear and not say a word. Only to show up out of nowhere and act like nothing happened.”

Mina crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her head slightly as she observed you with a hint of suspicion in her eyes. “Where is this coming from?”

You shrugged, glancing at Jill who was giving you the same look. The chuckle you let out was awkward and defensive. “Nowhere. I’m just yapping for no reason. You know me.”

“Yeah, we know you,” Jill said, grinning playfully. “We know you’re hiding someone up at your apartment.”

“WHAT?” you exclaimed, backing away and laughing incredulously. “No. When did I ever! You’re crazy," you denied, snorting.

“Uh-huh? Then why haven’t we been invited there in like, six months already?” Jill interrogated.

You looked away. “I didn’t know you guys were keeping count.”

“Who is it?” Mina pressed, a teasing smile on her lips.

“No one,” you said briskly. “We haven’t talked in like, a week.”

“Oh, is it over before we even found out who it was?” Mina asked, appalled.

Before you could respond, Lea’s voice rang out from outside the door, full of flair. “You’ll be back! Soon you’ll see! You’ll remember you belong to me!”

Yeah. Mingyu will be back. Like always.

You went on with your life, like always. You’d learned to adapt. Classes came and went, each lecture merging into the next. On the first few times that Mingyu would disappear, you used to be distracted. Now you just went on as usual. Each day passed in a blur of classes, late-night study sessions, and the occasional laugh with friends.

“You still haven’t told us who this mystery man is. He’s not a professor, is he?” Lea questioned while you were at a cafe one evening.

“No! What the heck?” you said briskly, shaking your head at the ridiculous accusation.

“Is it Mingyu? You guys seem... close,” Mina teased.

“No,” you lied, blatantly.

Mina nudged your elbow. “Then why won’t you tell us?”

You hesitated, glancing down at your plate. “It’s just… it’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?” Jill asked, leaning in, her eyes glimmering with curiosity. “He ghosted you, right? You’re better off without him.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you said, but the words felt heavy in your mouth. You could not bring yourself to tell them that he’d done this before, and that he’d be back. When he does, you’d take him back like you always did.

You didn’t want to tell them how much you craved his presence, even if it was a source of confusion and pain. The idea of him laughing and teasing you again, the thought of being held by him, being one with him in body and mind—it all felt like a drug you couldn’t resist. How could you tell your friends that? They’d kill you if they can’t kill Mingyu first.

Mina reached out, squeezing your hand. “You deserve someone who’s all in. Not someone who just pops in and out of your life.”

“I know,” you nodded, appreciating their concern. You know they were right, but you still wanted to wait for Mingyu.

Just as the ache began to dull into a familiar rhythm, you were in the library, buried under a pile of textbooks. The quiet hum of studying students surrounded you, but you were in your own world, focusing on an assignment.

“Hey, stranger,” said a familiar voice that made your heart race. You looked up to find Mingyu and your stomach flipped as you caught his eye. He looked goofy—exactly as you remembered. “Missed me?”

“More like I forgot what you looked like,” you retorted, trying to play it cool.

He laughed, that warm, infectious laugh that always made your heart flutter. “Oh, come on! You know you missed my face.”

“Not as much as I missed your annoying habit of interrupting my study sessions,” you shot back, though you couldn’t suppress the smile creeping onto your face.

Mingyu grinned, leaning closer. “I can’t help it. What’s more interesting than me?”

Your heart swelled at his playful confidence, and for the first time in weeks, the tension in your chest eased a little. “A lot of things, actually,” you teased, trying to keep the atmosphere light.

“Lies,” he said pouting as he slid on the seat next to you, scooting so close that your shoulders were squeezed together. “So, any plans tonight?”

You rolled your eyes, but inside, you felt the warmth of his presence filling the void he had left.

Mingyu started to integrate himself back into your life seamlessly. He would swing by your apartment with snacks, distract you with silly anecdotes, and make you laugh until your sides hurt. You need not mention that most of these nights were spent with your limbs tangled underneath your sheets—half his weight pressing on you, your fingernails digging into his skin, as your moans blended with his soft grunts, creating a beautiful melody that made you lose your mind.

One afternoon, you found yourselves in the park, lounging on the grass under the fading sunlight. “So, what’s new with you?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbow to look at you.

“Not much. Just the usual—classes, studying, hanging out with the same friends,” you replied, your gaze drifting to the clouds above.

He raised an eyebrow. “Just that? No wild adventures? No spontaneous trips?”

You laughed softly. “You’re my wild adventures, Mingyu.”

Mingyu’s expression shifted, his playful demeanor softening as he studied your face. “I’m sorry for disappearing like that. I just needed some time to take care of stuff,” he explained, playing with the ends of your hair. “I wish I didn’t have to.”

His words hung in the air, and your breath caught in your throat. The way he looked at you made you feel special again—loved even. You could feel the warmth spreading in your chest, a blend of relief and yearning.

“I’m glad you’re back,” you said softly, your heart swelling with hope.

“I know,” he replied with a teasing smirk, but his eyes were sincere. You stayed like that for a while, just staring at each other, not quite understanding what your eyes were trying to tell each other, but content nonetheless.

“I should go,” you said, sitting up. Mingyu followed, holding your hand and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Go where? I was hoping we could hang out again tonight. How does steak sound? I’ve gotten good at it recently.”

“I am tempted, but maybe next time. I made plans with the girls.”

“Can I sleep over tonight, then? I don’t wanna go home,” he pleaded.

You winced. “Mina’s sleeping over tonight.”

“Didn’t she sleep over the other day, though?”

“Yeah, well. She doesn’t have an apartment anymore. It’s a long story.”

Mingyu gasped playfully. “Is she moving in with you?”

“No, not really. But she’d be sleeping over sometimes.”

“Not your friend cockblocking me.”

You threw your head back laughing. “Dumbass. Go away.”

As the days turned into weeks, you settled back into the regular rhythm with him. Mingyu seemed lighter, more carefree. Every moment felt precious, as if you were both making up for lost time.

But behind the lighthearted moments, you could feel it—the underlying tension that often accompanied Mingyu’s presence. You pushed it aside, choosing to savor the time you had together instead of dwelling on what might come next.

Then, one chilly evening, it happened.

You’d heard somewhere before that one should expect disappointment. That way, the said disappointment would hurt less once it comes. They were only half-right.

“What’s your opinion so far?” you asked, watching Seungcheol lean back in his chair.

He shook his head slowly. “I’m not really in a position to comment.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind. I’m the one asking.”

He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “I think you’ve got yourself stuck in an impasse. And honestly, it’s a frustrating one, because you knew what was going on, you didn’t like it, and you knew exactly what you could do to get out of it.”

“And your point is?”

“My point is, you could have spared yourself the trouble. You could have chosen differently—confront him, walk away, tell him to leave if he’s just gonna keep doing what he’s doing,” he replied.

You shot him a teasing smile. “Notice how you’re listing all the things I could have done, instead of what Mingyu should have done?”

There was a flicker of realization on Seungcheol’s face, clearly caught off guard. “Oh…”

You chuckled softly. “Exactly. That’s because people generally don’t trust men to be capable of picking up after their messes.”

“That’s actually a good insight,” he admitted with a nod. “So what happened after that?”

“You know what happened. It’s where I started when I told you this story. He called me after a week of radio silence, complaining about his annoying professor. Then I invited him over, we had sex, and we fell back into the same cycle of pretending like nothing was wrong. With him. Or with us. Then he vanished again.”

Seungcheol nodded quietly as he refilled your empty glass. For some reason, the gesture felt like a pat on your shoulder. In your mind, you thought that maybe this was his way of comforting you. That is—if he cared at all.

“That was the first time we fought,” you added, smiling bitterly at the memory.

At that point, you’d recognize the cues. You’d had Mingyu memorized and knew exactly from the way he was beginning to get detached that he was about to disappear again—late replies, making excuses and avoiding you at the campus. The thought of being abandoned by him once more struck a chord in you. Before you know it, you were confronting him, demanding to be heard.

“You’re doing it again,” you said, just as he was reaching for the doorknob.

Mingyu stopped, looked back at you, and blinked, confused. “Doing what?”

You gestured at him at the door. “This. The avoiding, the excuses.” Your voice was sharper than you intended, but you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

He shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “I’ve been busy—”

“Stop!” you interrupted. “Just stop it! Don’t lie to me, Mingyu. You think I don’t notice? You’re pulling away, and you always do this right before you disappear!”

Mingyu sighed, backing away from the door and facing you fully. He uttered your name—softly, pleadingly. “Come on, baby. Let’s not do this right now.”

“What? Am I supposed to just take it in stride while you disappear to God knows where without so much as a word? No. We’re doing this right now,” you demanded. The corner of your eyes began to sting with the tears threatening to fall.

He reached to touch you but you recoiled, and he could only clench his fist then withdraw his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Is that all you have to say?” you asked, appalled.

“I don’t wanna make excuses.”

“Who said you have to?” you asked quietly, your voice unsteady. “You just have to be honest.”

“It's easier said than done!” he snapped, exhaling sharply as he held your gaze. You could see the hesitation on his face before he looked away and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“What do you want from me, Mingyu?” you croaked out, trying to steady yourself on your feet. “Why do you keep doing this to me?”

“I don’t mean to hurt you,” he said defensively, reaching out again but you backed away.

“But you do! And I feel like absolute shit because… because…” The words got stuck in your throat. How were you supposed to explain the constant tug-of-war inside you? The feeling of wanting more but being too scared to ask for it? “Am I just someone you use when it’s convenient? Someone you need when you’re lonely, then toss aside the moment you’re done?”

“No! Don’t say that!” Mingyu growled, grabbing you by the shoulders and pulling you into a tight hug. You tensed at first, but then you felt it—the way his arms wrapped around you, not in anger, but in desperation. “I care about you. I care a lot about you.”

The force of his hold spoke louder than anything he’d said. His grip tightened slightly, but it wasn’t suffocating. It felt… conflicted, as if he was holding onto you for dear life but didn’t know how to tell you why. You felt his breath, unsteady against your hair, like he was battling with words that refused to come out.

But it wasn’t enough.

You stiffened in his arms, resisting the urge to melt into his warmth like you always had before. “Mingyu,” you whispered, your voice barely holding together, “if you care about me, why won’t you just be honest?”

He didn’t let go, but his grip faltered, his fingers loosening just enough for you to feel the uncertainty. His silence stretched on, filling the air between you, but he still couldn’t say it. He couldn’t give you what you needed—a promise, a reason, something to hold onto.

“Go,” you said, your voice raw with pain.

Mingyu faltered, his arms falling to his sides, his eyes pleading as if you’d just said something he wasn’t ready to hear. “Please…” he whispered, reaching out again.

You turned your back on him. “Just go, Mingyu,” you repeated, voice cracking as you struggled to keep your tears at bay. “Go. I can’t do this right now.”

With your back turned you didn’t see him linger by the door, hand hesitating on the knob. You didn’t catch the sadness clouding his eyes, the way his fingers twitched as if to reach for you one last time. And you missed the way he looked at you—torn, broken—before he slipped out of your life once again.

And with Mingyu gone, he didn’t see your legs give out beneath you. You collapsed onto the living room floor, where the two of you had spent countless hours together, making memories that now felt like they belonged to a different time. Your sobs filled the silence of the empty room, the weight of everything crashing down on you, and for the first time, you let yourself break at the place where you had once felt whole.

You went on with your life, almost mechanical now with its repetition. Classes, study sessions, dinners with friends—it was all about keeping your head above water, distracting yourself from the void Mingyu had left behind. You had been through this before, so in some twisted way, you were used to it. He always came and went, and every time he left, it hurt less. The only difference was that this time, you weren’t sure if he’d ever come back.

You missed him in the morning. Your eyes searched for him around campus all day. And your soul ached to be held by him at night. Your friends noticed your distracted state, and they had asked once but didn’t press on when you’d hinted that you didn’t want to talk about it. They figured that, eventually, you'd open up. In the meantime, you stuck to your routine, pretending everything was fine. And in a way, it was. Your tears eventually dried up and the restless nights decreased. The pain had dulled, and you were starting to accept that maybe this was for the best.

But it seemed like fate wasn’t done toying with you yet. One evening, you were lounging on the couch with Jill, Lea, and Mina. You were halfway through a movie you’d been meaning to watch, a quiet evening like so many before when your friends had kept you company so you weren’t left to your sad thoughts.

Then your phone rang. At first, you thought it might have been a mistake, that you were hallucinating when you saw Mingyu’s nickname on your screen.

“R18 plus plus plus? Who’s that?” Mina teased, noticing the name flash on your phone. “A fling?”

“It’s no one,” you muttered, still staring at the screen.

“Aren’t you gonna pick it up? It’s kinda loud, love,” said Jill, motioning to the TV.

You stood up, heading to the kitchen to answer the call. You knew you shouldn’t, but a part of you—the part that still hoped, still craved his presence—wanted to hear what he had to say.

“Hello?” you answered, your voice shaky.

“Hi.” The voice on the other end was unfamiliar, and they said your name uncertainly.

“Yes. Who is this?”

“This is Dan. Your number was on the phone so I called. Can you come to the bar downtown? It’s right across from 00 University. The owner of this phone had a little too much to drink. Can you come pick him up?”

For a moment, you couldn’t speak. Mingyu? You hadn’t heard from him in weeks. “I… yeah, I’ll be there,” you managed, glancing at your friends. “Give me twenty minutes.”

You ended the call and stood, grabbing your coat. Mina raised an eyebrow, but you avoided her gaze. “I have to go,” you said quickly.

“Now, now. You’re not ditching us for Mr. R18 plus plus plus, are you?” Mina teased again, but you weren’t in the mood for jokes.

“R18? Is that a booty call?” Lea chuckled.

“It’s not what you think, guys.” You sighed, offering a quick, apologetic smile. “I’ll be right back.”

Without waiting for their protests, you rushed out the door, your heart pounding. You were confused and surprised. Mingyu drunk and alone in a bar? This was so out of character for him. He’d never done anything like this before.

When you arrived at the bar, you spotted him immediately. Slumped against the counter, his head hanging low, he was a mess. His hair was tousled, his eyes half-closed, and his cheeks flushed with alcohol. The confident Mingyu you knew was gone, replaced by this hollow, drunken version. You approached him, appalled at the sight of him looking wasted.

“You must be her,” asked the bartender.

You nodded, glancing at Mingyu. “How long has he been like this?”

Dan sighed. “A few hours. He was drinking alone, staring at your number. Said he wanted to call, but wasn’t sure if he should.”

Your heart twisted at that. He wanted to call? He was thinking about you? But then, why hadn’t he?

“How much did he drink?” you asked, eyeing about a dozen bottles of beer in front of him and hoping he didn’t drink all of those by himself.

Mingyu stirred at the sound of your voice, his head lifting slightly. He tried to focus on you, but his eyes were hazy. He mumbled your name. “...is that you?”

Dan gave you a sympathetic smile. “He’s all yours.”

“Yeah, it’s me.” You sighed, wrapping an arm around him, trying to lift him to his feet. He leaned heavily against you, his body sagging.

He whispered your name again, slurring the syllables, and for a moment, something inside you softened. But no. You couldn’t do this again. Not like this.

With a struggle, you managed to get him outside. “Kim Mingyu, you’re gonna have to pull it together, or I’ll leave you here.”

Mingyu groaned, trying to straighten up. “I missed you,” he mumbled, his words barely coherent. He stumbled, reaching for your face but missing, his hand landing on your shoulder instead. He rested his head on your shoulder, taking a deep breath. “Missed you so much.”

You winced at the words, unsure of what to feel. Did he mean it? Or was it the alcohol talking? “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

In the cab ride back to your apartment, he kept trying to pull you closer, his head resting on your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck. Every time he said your name, it felt like a knife twisting in your chest. How could he hurt you so easily, and yet make you feel so needed at the same time?

When you got him inside, your friends were still there, their faces full of questions. Jill stood first. “What’s going on?” she asked, though the answer was obvious.

“He’s drunk,” you said simply, guiding him to the couch. “I’m sorry. Can we call it a night? I promise I’ll explain later.”

They exchanged looks but didn’t argue. Lea gave you a quick hug before leaving, followed by Jill and Mina. “Text us if you need anything,” Mina said quietly, her eyes lingering on you as if she wanted to say more.

Once they were gone, you turned to Mingyu, who had collapsed onto the couch. He was mumbling your name again, his eyes barely open.

You knelt beside him, brushing the hair from his forehead. “You’re a mess, Mingyu.”

He smiled lazily, his hand reaching for your face. Then he chuckled. “Dan, you bastard, what did you put in my drink? Why am I seeing things?" he drawled out the words.

“You’re not seeing things,” you chided, albeit softly, as you pushed his hand away.

You sighed, pulling away from his touch. You started to help him out of his jacket, his body warm and damp with sweat. As you worked, he kept trying to pull you closer, his hands wandering over your body, his lips trying to find yours but clumsily landing on different spots in your face.

You swatted his hand each time, and pushed him away as much as you could. You stripped him down until he was left with only his boxers. Afterward, you gave him a blanket and were about to leave when he grabbed you by the waist.

“Stay,” he whispered.

Just like that, the tears you thought had dried up started welling your eyes again. You stood there, letting yourself get enveloped by his warmth again. If only he could stay like this—open, vulnerable, needing you. But deep down, you knew this wasn’t real. Tomorrow, he’d be gone again.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and gentle. You stirred awake, feeling a familiar ache settle deep in your chest. The first thing you did was rise out of bed and go to the living room. Mingyu was still asleep on the couch, his arm draped lazily over the edge, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths.

Quietly, you walked over to the couch. You sat down on the floor next to him, folding your legs beneath you. Your eyes traced the familiar lines of his face, softened in sleep. He looked peaceful—vulnerable even, like he wasn’t the same man who’d disappeared for weeks without a word.

How many times have you told yourself not to expect more? That he wasn’t yours to keep. He was only yours in stolen moments—when the world outside didn’t exist, and it was just the two of you, tangled in each other. But those moments were fleeting, like a breath you couldn’t quite hold on to.

You sighed, brushing a loose strand of hair away from his forehead. “Damn you, Kim Mingyu.”

What if this time was different? What if, just once, he stayed? Hope was a dangerous thing. Every time you thought you were free from him, he pulled you back in, sometimes with nothing more than a look, a word, or the weight of his presence.

Mingyu stirred, his eyelids fluttering open slowly. His gaze found yours almost immediately, bleary but aware. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. You just looked at each other, the silence heavy with unsaid words, with everything you were too afraid to admit. The hurt. The longing. The quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, he wanted you as much as you wanted him.

His eyes lingered on your face, as if he was trying to read your thoughts. You felt exposed under his gaze, like he could see through the walls you’d built to protect yourself from him.

Then, without a word, he reached for you. His hand, warm and tentative, cupped the side of your face, and you leaned into his touch instinctively, closing your eyes for a second as your breath caught in your throat. When you opened them again, his gaze was intense, searching.

His lips brushed against yours, soft and familiar. Then, his grip on you tightened, and you found yourself sinking into him. For a few moments, it felt like nothing else mattered. The pain, the confusion, the nights spent wondering where he was—none of it existed here.

You knew this wasn’t safe. Letting him back in, letting him hold you, kiss you—it was a cycle you couldn’t break. But you didn’t pull away.

He guided you to the bed, his hands sliding over your skin with tenderness, as though he was afraid you’d slip away from him. You weren’t sure who needed who more in this moment—whether he was seeking comfort from you, or whether you were the one hoping he would stay, if only for a little longer. Maybe it didn’t matter.

Your clothes fell away slowly, piece by piece, until there was nothing left between you. His touch was familiar, yet it felt different somehow—softer, more cautious. You shivered as his lips trailed across your collarbone, your breath hitching in your throat.

He then lay on his back, guiding you to straddle him. You’d miss everything about him these past few weeks, but you didn’t know how much you longed for him until he was deep inside you. It hurt a little, but you didn’t falter, you just stayed there for a second, adjusting to the stretch that you hadn’t felt in a while.

Mingyu sat up, his hands supporting your back as he pressed his forehead against yours. “You okay?” he asked, his lips ghosting over your skin. You nodded, moving ever so slightly. Mingyu kissed the side of your head. “Good girl.”

You didn’t reply, too caught in the moment to think beyond the feeling of his hands on you, and his manhood inside you. Soon you were breathless on top of him, grinding rhythmically, back arching with each motion. His hands were as strong as they had always been, gripping your hips as he guided your movements. You did not contain your moans, knowing Mingyu preferred hearing them—that he loved hearing you.

Just as you were nearing release, Mingyu shifted your positions, pinning you underneath him. He stared into your eyes for a moment, caressing your cheek before he kissed your open mouth. And once again, he thrust into you. The room was filled with soft sounds—quiet breaths, gentle whispers of each other's names. Everything felt slow, like time had stretched out just for you two, giving you space to exist in this fleeting moment.

There was no rush, no frantic urgency. Just two people, tangled together in a slow, deliberate, and passionate sex driven not solely by lust but by something more powerful.

Love. You felt it in his every push, every kiss, and every touch. It was different this time. His hands lingered longer, his lips sought yours more often, and the way he whispered your name—it wasn’t just desire. It was more, and you felt it deep within your chest, like an ache that had finally found its release

And when it was over, you lay together, his arms wrapped around you, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. You traced lazy circles on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. His body was warm, his presence grounding you in a way that made you want to believe he could be yours.

“I love you,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet but clear.

You froze, your hand still on his chest as the words hung in the air. You weren’t sure if you’d heard him right. Slowly, you lifted your head to look at him, your heart hammering in your chest. “What did you say?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mingyu’s eyes softened, a faint smile playing on his lips as he repeated the words that made your breath catch. “I said, I love you.”

Your heart swelled, but with it came a surge of doubt. Could you believe him? Could you trust these words from the same man who had vanished from your life without a second thought so many times before? It felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, one step away from free-falling into something that could either break you or save you.

You wanted to say it back. The words were on the tip of your tongue, but they felt too heavy, weighed down by all the times you’d convinced yourself that this moment would never come. Instead, you settled for leaning up and kissing him, slow and soft, your lips lingering against his. Maybe this kiss could say what you couldn’t. Maybe it could be enough to bridge the gap between hope and reality.

When you pulled back, you looked at him again, the uncertainty gnawing at your chest. “Do you really mean that?” you asked, your voice smaller than you intended. “Or are you just saying it because… because of what just happened?”

Mingyu’s eyes darkened with something unreadable. He reached up, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “I mean it,” he said, his voice rougher now, like the words were harder for him to say than he let on. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but there was something else there too—something softer, more vulnerable. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. You both knew what this was, even if neither of you was ready to admit it.

You pressed another kiss on his lips, your hand cupping his face. Maybe this time would be different. Maybe.

Or maybe not.

Seungcheol’s eyes stayed locked on you, you could see curiosity and concern written on his face. You just stared right back, keeping your lips tight.

“That’s it?” he asked, his voice soft, almost disbelieving.

You nodded. “That’s it.”

He blinked slowly, clearly not satisfied with your answer. He’d been so engrossed in the story that neither of you had noticed how late it had gotten.

“It can’t be,” he murmured. “What happened after?”

You let out a breath, shrugging as if it didn’t matter. “We talked. Well, fought, mostly. I asked him what he wanted—if he’d finally commit. In the end, he didn’t pick me. After everything, I thought he would. You know confessing his love and all that. But… meh.” You rolled your eyes. “That’s how it went.”

Seungcheol leaned in, his eyes narrowing. “So you walked away?”

“I don’t wanna go into details anymore, but yes I walked away with my dignity intact. I mean,” you paused to laugh. “I couldn’t keep letting him do that to me, could I? I had to stop it. I was better than that, though it took a while for me to finally grasp that fact and walk away.”

Seungcheol nodded slowly, but there was something unsatisfied in his expression. “Well, good for you. You deserve that. You deserve better.”

“I know,” you chuckled, but the laugh felt forced. “It’s funny, looking back. I acted so stupid for him. But I’m just glad it’s over now, you know? That chapter is closed.”

He tilted his head, his brow furrowed in thought. “That’s good. Although I dare say, your storytelling is a bit, I don’t know… anticlimactic?”

“Is it?” you asked like it wasn’t something you already felt too. You forced a shrug. “Maybe. But that’s how it went. Things kept circling back to the same pattern and this part is basically the same. There’s only so many times you can replay the same argument, you know? I just skipped it,” you added with a forced smirk, hoping it would distract him from prying any further.

Seungcheol observed you for a minute, and you wondered if he could see right through you. Seems impossible. He didn’t really know you until today, and you were a pretty decent liar.

“Right,” he said, his tone softening, though the doubt hadn’t entirely left his face. “What’s next then?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I mean, who’s next?” he clarified, leaning back in his chair. “Kim Mingyu is not the only guy you’d ever dated, is he?”

You let out a short laugh, but it was strained. “No, there were others. But it’s late, Mr. Choi. The lady needs her sleep.”

He shot to his feet, his face immediately contrite. “Ah, of course! I didn’t mean to keep you up.”

“I’m sure you didn’t. If you want to hear more, you can ask the front desk for me. Tomorrow’s my day-off so I have time. We can also discuss the fee you promised,” you said, smiling and then narrowing your eyes at him. “That is, if you haven’t forgotten about it.”

“I remember.” He smiled. “Good night then.”

“Thanks for listening,” you said with a small wave as you turned to head toward your room.

As you made your way back to your quarters, thoughts of Mingyu swirled in your mind. You’d lied to Seungcheol. The ending between you and Mingyu wasn’t anticlimactic at all. It had been messy, filled with bottled-up anger and days wallowing in misery. But you’d never admit that to Seungcheol. Sharing a failed romance with a stranger was one thing; baring the ugly truth of just how miserable and pathetic you felt back then? That was something else entirely.

At the time, you thought he’d finally let you in. He did, for a moment. Mingyu had opened up about the weight of familial expectations, how it crushed him to follow a path that wasn’t his. He talked about the people and dreams he had to leave behind. And he confessed that the reason he couldn’t choose you, after all this time, was that same fear—that one day, he’d have to turn his back on you too.

“You don’t have to,” you said, placing a hand on his arm. “I’ll be here. Wouldn’t it be easier if you had someone to rely on?”

He’d smiled at you then, a smile filled with gratitude and maybe something like love. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

And so, you stayed. And Mingyu? He stayed the same—thoughtful, goofy, always consistent. Sometimes, he’d come to you in low spirits, and you’d let him lean on you in silence, even though he never fully shared his feelings. You fell deeper in love with him, slowly realizing that everything felt emptier, harder without him. You barely noticed time fly by, but you did notice that Mingyu no longer disappeared. He no longer detached himself from you. He was there all the time, even on days when he didn’t feel like himself.

Freshman year passed and you went up with him at his family’s estate to spend the break. He lived in a big house but his parents weren’t home the whole time you were there. It was nice to get a glimpse of his life, of the place he grew up in and the person he was before you met him. You spent time hanging out, making love, and being each other’s support system.

But despite how wonderful it was, despite the burning passion, the cloud of uncertainty loomed over you while you were there. The happiness you felt was so overwhelming, it scared you. It felt too good to be true, like the calm before an inevitable storm.

This storm would come earlier than either of you expected. And it came in the mail.

“What is it?” you asked, wrapping your arms around Mingyu’s seated figure. You tried to peek into the letter, but he put it away.

“Nothing important,” he replied, holding your arm and rubbing it as he looked up at you. He smiled at you and then pressed a soft kiss on your lips. “Where were you?”

You pointed at your head, wrapped in a towel. “In the bath,” you said, straightening up and walking toward the bed to undo your hair.

“You were gone for an hour.”

“Yeah. I was actually waiting for you to join me,” you said, not hiding your disappointment.

He groaned. “Oh, man. You should’ve told me.”

You grimaced. “No, you should’ve looked for me when you noticed I was gone.”

He tucked the envelope in the drawer before jumping in the bed with you. He pinned you down, making you squeal. Then he started peppering you with kisses all over your face. When he caught a whiff of your neck, his expression immediately shifted from goofy to naughty.

“I’d love to do it in the tub, but the bed isn’t such a bad idea too,” he lilted, undoing the ribbon of your robe.

“The bed is the best place to do it, dumbass.”

Mingyu hummed in satisfaction. “I love it when you talk dirty to me,” he said, making you laugh.

That afternoon was spent being one with each other too, like the previous ones. When you fell asleep, Mingyu was beside you, his head leaning on your chest while you play with his hair. But when you woke up, it was already dark and the spot where Mingyu laid was cold.

You pushed yourself upright, wrapping your robe around you as you padded across the room, calling out his name. “Mingyu?” The sound echoed back in the silence. You checked the bathroom, the living room—every corner of the house, each step feeling heavier than the last. No sign of him.

You tried his phone next, only to find it sitting on the nightstand. Thirty minutes passed, then an hour. Your calls for him became more frantic, though still unanswered. It was only when the housekeeper returned that she offered some explanation.

“He went out earlier, ma’am,” she said, smiling kindly. “He didn’t say where, but I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Mr. Mingyu would never leave you alone.”

Right, he wouldn’t. Yet that wasn’t reassuring at all. This housekeeper might have watched Mingyu grow up, even took care of him during those years, but she had no idea what Mingyu had put you through. Still, you wanted to believe in him.

The hours passed, and the next morning came. He hadn’t come home yet. You waited until the evening, and the following evening on the next day, and the next, and the next. Still no Mingyu. The house felt hollow without him, as though the walls themselves knew something was wrong.

It was on the fourth day, when your frustration turned to desperate curiosity, that you found the letter tucked away in the drawer of his desk. Your fingers trembled as you unfolded it—an acceptance letter to a university abroad.

He hadn’t mentioned this. Was he planning to leave? Had he already left?

You’d looked for him and asked everyone at his house for help but no one seemed to know where he went. They even had to contact his parents and you didn’t really expect them to know either, but it was frustrating to hear them say it.

“Have you checked his flat, ma’am?” the housekeeper asked.

You blinked. “I thought he moved out of his flat?”

The housekeeper shook his head. “No, ma’am. He’s been living here again, but that place in the city still belongs to him. Maybe he’s there?”

It wasn’t like him—not anymore. Ever since the two of you had gotten closer, you thought the days of him pulling away without warning were over. You had let yourself believe that, anyway. But now, you felt the creeping sense of something breaking, something final.

You commuted back to the city and went straight to his flat. You hated this feeling—the waiting, the uncertainty. It felt like standing on the edge of something crumbling beneath your feet.

And now here you were, in front of his door, heart pounding as you knocked. You didn’t expect him to answer. But, he did.

Mingyu stood there, looking disheveled, dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in days. The sight of him was both a relief and a frustration, all the hurt and confusion swirling inside you.

“We need to talk,” you said, pushing past him into the apartment before he could say anything.

He closed the door behind you but didn’t move. “I know,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

You turned to face him, crossing your arms. “What’s going on, Mingyu? You disappeared. Again. After everything we talked about. After you said you didn’t want to keep doing this.”

He ran a hand through his messy hair, looking anywhere but at you. “I’m sorry,” he said, but there was no conviction in his voice.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Your voice cracked despite your efforts to keep it steady.

Mingyu finally looked at you, his expression torn, like he didn’t know how to put what he was feeling into words. “I don’t know… I needed time. I couldn’t—”

“You always need time, Mingyu,” you interrupted, your frustration boiling over. “You say you don’t want to do this alone, but then you push me away every chance you get. Do you even want me in your life?”

“I do! I’ve never wanted anything else! But I can’t… I—” he paused, running his fingers through his hair. “I can’t keep dragging you into this.”

“You’re not dragging me, Mingyu. I’m here to stay! But if we’re gonna keep having this… if you’re gonna keep doing this to me, then what’s the point?” you asked, the words heavy with your anger and frustration. “I’m sick of this, Mingyu. Aren’t you?”

His eyes widened, and you could see the conflict in him. But he didn’t answer. He didn’t say anything, and that silence hit you harder than anything else.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, taking a step closer to him. “If you don’t want me, just say it. Tell me to go, and I will. But if you want me to stay…” Your voice faltered as you searched his face, desperate for any sign. “Tell me to stay, Mingyu. Say it.”

For a long moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your uneven breaths. You waited. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.

“Mingyu, please…” you pleaded, holding back your tears. “Just say ‘don’t go,’ and I won’t,” you added, shaking your head.

Mingyu reached for your face, staring at you with tears in his eyes. Then he pressed his forehead against yours as he sobbed. “I’m sorry.”

Your heart sank, the answer clear even though he never spoke the words. You took a shaky breath, nodding to yourself. “Okay,” you whispered, wiping away a tear that rolled down your cheek. “I get it.”

You backed away and then turned toward the door, your chest aching with every step you took. But before you could reach the handle, you stopped, glancing back one last time, hoping—praying—that he would say something, anything, to stop you.

But Mingyu stayed silent. And with that, you walked out for the final time.

To say you were a mess after that was an understatement. You were a wreck—miserable and sad, wandering through the days like a ghost of your former self. You ran to your friends, crying in their arms for hours, the kind of raw, gut-wrenching sobs that left you breathless. You thought you’d only cry about it for a few days and get over it. But it went on for a whole month.

Some nights, after too many drinks, you’d find yourself dialing his number, the alcohol loosening the grip of reason in your mind. “Mingyuuuu,” you’d whine into the phone with your voice slurred and pathetic. “I love you so much! Take me back!”

The next morning, you’d wake up to the shame of your drunken confessions, staring at the ceiling with regret pressing down on you. You’d replay the conversations in your mind, cringing at how desperate you sounded, wondering how you let yourself fall apart so completely.

Your friends did their best to pull you out of the darkness, but every attempt felt useless. You’d join them for outings, but you were barely present, laughing too loudly at jokes that didn’t register or staring blankly at the world around you. One night, they dragged you to a party, insisting you needed to have fun. But there you were, clinging to your drink, watching everyone dance and laugh, while the memories of Mingyu spun in your mind. Once the reality set in that he was no longer there to ditch the party with you, you stumbled to the bathroom and locked yourself in, sobbing into your hands as the beat thudded through the walls.

Even the simplest tasks became challenges. Your studies slipped away; assignments piled up, and your grades plummeted. You’d sit in your lectures, staring at the board but absorbing nothing. Friends would express their concern, but you brushed it off with a half-hearted smile, not wanting to burden them any more than you already had.

Eventually, you hit a breaking point. On one particularly dark day, you sat alone in your room, surrounded by empty cans and bottles and crumpled tissues. The realization hit you like a freight train: you couldn’t do this anymore. You weren’t just grieving—you were drowning.

In the haze of your despair, you made the impulsive decision to skip the semester and move back home with your family. The thought of facing another day in the city without Mingyu felt unbearable. Packing your things felt like burying a part of yourself, but it was your only option. Every corner of your apartment did nothing to help your move on anyway.

You took one last look of the place where you made the most memories with Mingyu. And as you closed the door, you hoped it would also close that chapter in your life.

Your parents welcomed you with open arms, concerned and confused by your sudden return. You pretended everything was fine, but they noticed the shadows under your eyes, the way you flinched at the slightest mention of your time at university.

In the privacy of your old room, you often found yourself staring at the ceramic bears on your nightstand, remembering the small joy of building a family for these inanimate objects. Your friends tried to reach out, but you brushed them aside, too ashamed to admit how far you had fallen. They understood, giving you the time and space you needed, knowing you'd be back once things were better.

And as the weeks passed, things got better. The sun shone a little brighter, and your grief slowly lightened. You spent time with your family, rediscovering old hobbies and connecting with friends who reminded you of who you were before Mingyu. Slowly, you started to feel like yourself again. You laughed more, shared stories, and realized that life still held moments of joy, even in the absence of him.

One day, while cleaning your room, your eyes caught your little bear family, focusing on the grizzly and panda Mingyu had gifted you. Their faces seemed more cheerful now and you felt a bittersweet pang in your chest.

Where could Mingyu be right now? How is he? You had no idea, but you wished he was in a better place than before. Somehow, you wish you could at least extend a hand to comfort him, even as a distant friend.

Then an idea came. You picked up the grizzly and the panda, the memories flooding back—of laughter, of warmth, of love. But you knew that holding onto them was holding you back. And right now, you don’t really need them anymore.

You wrapped the figurines carefully in bubble wrap and wrote a short note:

“I’m sending these with a happy heart and I hope that instead of bitterness and sorrow, they will bring a smile to your face, just like they did when we first met them. Thank you for the memories. Know that I do not regret meeting you, and if I had to do it again, I would. Although, maybe I’d make better decisions then. You’ll always have a space in my heart, Gyu. I hope you’re in a better place—both in your heart and mind. Love, me <3”

As you dropped the package off at the post office, you felt lighter and liberated. The storm that had raged within you had dissipated, replaced by a promise of new beginnings. You smiled to yourself, knowing that while the past would always be a part of you, it no longer defined you. You were ready to embrace whatever came next. You’re young, you have a whole life ahead of you.

And if you happen to run into Mingyu again in the future, you hope he will be in better circumstances. Whatever he was going through, you wished he’d get over it and be genuinely happy.

[fin]

863 notes · View notes

les4elliewilliams · 1 month ago

Text

Ellie is away｡｡｡ ⸝⸝⸝ e.williams

Alternative Chapter 5 – 2006, Senior year college

⊹ ࣪ ˖ a/n ﹕it’s been over a year and honestly, most of you probably forgot this alternative chapter even existed or were convinced it was never coming out. yeah… super late, i know, but hey... better late than never, right? :3 i tagged all the people i felt i owed an apology to, both for the heartbreak i caused and for the ridiculous delay. yup, i suck. i know. but at least we finally have the happy ending now??

⊹ ࣪ ˖ wc/cw｡｡｡﹕2k approx. suggestive content?, happy ending! MDNI.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ summary｡｡｡﹕A time before Skype and Facebook. Windows XP just came out, and Windows Messenger was the thing. You finally got a computer just to chat with your friends.

➙ part one, two, three, four, sad ending ˎˊ˗

brickmaster has signed in

ynshere: hi baby ynshere: how was class?

brickmaster: alright i guess brickmaster: boring without Riley brickmaster: i think she's hungover

ynshere: again? ynshere: i don't get why you keep hanging out with her

brickmaster: ahhh shit…here we go again

ynshere: no i'm being fucking serious Ellie

brickmaster: please. i had a really long day

brickmaster: i don't wanna argue

ynshere: see, that's the problem

ynshere: you never wanna talk about things

ynshere: and every time we talk it's "Riley this, Riley that" ynshere: i feel like an afterthought

brickmaster: that's not fair

ynshere: you're right. it's not fair to me

ynshere: you cancel on me

ynshere: you barely even call anymore ynshere: and when we do hang out, you're distracted or talking about her

brickmaster: you're making this way bigger than it is

ynshere: i'm making it big because it hurts ynshere: and i'm starting to feel like maybe you don't want this anymore

brickmaster: don't start with that shit brickmaster: not tonight

ynshere: then when?

brickmaster: i don't know brickmaster: fuck it brickmaster: i'm logging off

ynshere is typing…

brickmaster is away.

ynshere: wait whatever.

brickmaster has signed in

brickmaster: hey brickmaster: can we talk?

ynshere: you logged off on me last night.

brickmaster: i know brickmaster: i'm sorry brickmaster: i was being a dick

ynshere: oh but what's new?

brickmaster: i just didn't know what to say without blowing up

ynshere: and you think leaving me hanging was better?

brickmaster: no brickmaster: it wasn't brickmaster: i panicked brickmaster: i hate fighting with you

ynshere: then listen to me, Ellie ynshere: that's all i've ever wanted ynshere: not a perfect version of you ynshere: i just want you to listen and care about how i feel

brickmaster: i do care brickmaster: you know i care

ynshere: then why do i feel like i'm yelling into a void every time i bring her up?

brickmaster: because you're always on my ass about Riley brickmaster: and it feels like you don't trust me to make my own decisions brickmaster: i know she's no saint brickmaster: but she's been good to me brickmaster: when i was alone

brickmaster: when shit got bad and you weren't around

ynshere: wow. that's not fair ynshere: you knew i was always a phone call away ynshere: i would've dropped everything just to come see you ynshere: but you didn't ask, didn't talk to me ynshere: you just let us drift

brickmaster: i didn't mean to brickmaster: i was just trying to survive

brickmaster: you know i had such a hard time making friends

brickmaster: and now that i do have friends, you hate it.

ynshere: god it's not even about that. it's about how you make me feel.

ynshere: i feel like i'm waiting for my turn to matter again

brickmaster: you do matter brickmaster: i'm just brickmaster: i don't know how to balance it all

brickmaster: i didn't expect you to be mad all the time

ynshere: i'm not mad. i'm hurt.

brickmaster: i'm sorry, okay? brickmaster: i know that doesn't fix it brickmaster: but i'll try harder brickmaster: i promise brickmaster: i'll do better brickmaster: please just… don't give up on me

ynshere: you're asking me to ignore everything i've been feeling ynshere: and just hope it'll get better on its own

brickmaster: i'm asking you to believe me when i say it will brickmaster: i'm still me brickmaster: maybe a messier version brickmaster: but still yours brickmaster: if you'll have me

ynshere: you know i'd never give up on you ynshere: but i'm tired, El

brickmaster: you're more than i deserve brickmaster: i love you

brickmaster: i'll do better brickmaster: please just give me some time to fix it

ynshere: okay ynshere: but don't take too long ynshere: cause i'm here now but i can't promise i'll always be

brickmaster: i know brickmaster: and i'm sorry

brickmaster: i love you. so much.

ynshere: i love you too ynshere: please don't make me regret it

brickmaster: i won't. brickmaster: i swear

ynshere is away.

brickmaster is typing…

brickmaster: can i still come see you this friday?

brickmaster: welp. guess i deserved it

brickmaster has signed in

ynshere: hi ynshere: how was your day?

brickmaster: hey pretty brickmaster: ehh, kinda shit tbh

ynshere: oh no :( ynshere: what happened?

brickmaster: idk brickmaster: everything just felt…off brickmaster: class sucked brickmaster: people were weird brickmaster: Riley and i argued

ynshere: wait, seriously? ynshere: you two never fight

brickmaster: yeah well brickmaster: she was being pushy about something

ynshere: what'd she do?

brickmaster: nothing brickmaster: it was dumb, but still

ynshere: oh Ellie…

brickmaster: i told her to stop and she got all defensive and stormed off brickmaster: and now people are staring at me like i killed someone

ynshere: they've been staring at you?

brickmaster: for days now brickmaster: today was just worse brickmaster: like they know something i don't brickmaster: and it's driving me insane

ynshere: do you think Riley spread rumors around?

brickmaster: she swore she didn't brickmaster: but i don't know what to think brickmaster: i'm starting to feel crazy brickmaster: like i don't know who to trust

ynshere: you can always trust me ynshere: you know that, right?

brickmaster: yeah brickmaster: i know brickmaster: sorry i've been a dick lately. you don't deserve it

ynshere: it's okay ynshere: just don't shut me out, El ynshere: i'm here. i wanna help

brickmaster: you always do brickmaster: maybe too much

ynshere: hey.

brickmaster: no i mean brickmaster: in a good way brickmaster: i don't deserve how patient you are with me

ynshere: yeah well, takes years of practice :p

brickmaster: lol shut up

brickmaster: but really, i'm starting to think you've been right all along

ynshere: now that is some paranormal shit i'm witnessing

ynshere: it's genuinely concerning.

ynshere: WHERES MY GIRLFRIEND AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER??

brickmaster: only you can make me smile in a moment like this

ynshere: :)

ynshere: want me to stay on the phone with you for a bit?

brickmaster: please.

ynshere: yay we get to talk shit about your friends

brickmaster: sooo exciting

brickmaster: just promise not to say "i told you so"

ynshere: no promises <3

brickmaster is typing…

ynshere: c'mon hurry up. call me

ynshere is away.

brickmaster: i love you.

brickmaster has signed in

ynshere: HAII BABYYY ynshere: how are you feelinggg?

brickmaster: hey brickmaster: i need to tell you something brickmaster: god, i don't even know how to start

ynshere: uh oh i don't like the sound of that ynshere: i'm listening ynshere: take your time

brickmaster: remember when i told you Riley and i fought?

ynshere: yeah

brickmaster: i lied about what it was really about brickmaster: i didn't want to tell you brickmaster: i was scared you wouldn't believe me

ynshere: El ynshere: just say it. whatever it is, it's okay

brickmaster: she tried to kiss me

ynshere: …what?

brickmaster: we were in her room brickmaster: just hanging out brickmaster: and she leaned in brickmaster: i swear i pulled back right away and told her to stop brickmaster: and she got all weird and quiet

ynshere: holy shit

brickmaster: then i left brickmaster: and the next day people started acting different brickmaster: whispering brickmaster: staring brickmaster: someone called me a dyke in the hallway yesterday

ynshere: what the fuck.

brickmaster: turns out she's been telling people i got all clingy and weird when she "turned me down" brickmaster: like i'm some creep who couldn't take rejection

brickmaster: i fucking hate this school so much

brickmaster: it's like the Cat thing all over again

ynshere: i'm so fucking sorry

brickmaster: i should've listened to you brickmaster: i defended her brickmaster: over and over brickmaster: even when you were right

ynshere: this isn't your fault ynshere: she's punishing you for setting a boundary

brickmaster: she was my friend brickmaster: and now half the school thinks i'm a predator brickmaster: and the other half just…avoids me brickmaster: like i'm contagious

ynshere: i hate this ynshere: i hate her ynshere: and i hate that you're going through this alone

brickmaster: i'm not alone brickmaster: i have you, right? brickmaster: if you still want me

ynshere: of course i want you, dumbass :( ynshere: you're my girlfriend ynshere: and i believe you ynshere: not her ynshere: i just wish you'd told me as soon it happened

brickmaster: i wanted to tell you sooner brickmaster: but i was scared you'd look at me different brickmaster: that you wouldn't trust me

brickmaster: i don't want her

brickmaster: i'm not into her

brickmaster: god i never even wanna see her again

ynshere: baby :( i wish i could do something

ynshere: i feel so useless

brickmaster: you're doing enough.

brickmaster: i'm gonna try to report her brickmaster: i don't know if that'll do anything…but i can't stay quiet anymore

ynshere: i'll help you ynshere: whatever you need ynshere: even if it's just to sit with you on call while you cry

brickmaster: you're too good to me. you're genuinely amazing

brickmaster: i don't know what i'd do without you. seriously.

ynshere: now you are starting to sound a bit miserable, Williams.

brickmaster: god you're so annoying

ynshere: yet, who do you go whining to, hm?

brickmaster: don't let that get to your head alright

brickmaster: i love you so much

ynshere: i love you more ynshere: always

brickmaster: i think i wanna come visit brickmaster: like soon brickmaster: tomorrow perhaps?

brickmaster: please tell me you're not busy

ynshere: never busy for you. i'll be here ynshere: bring your favorite movie ynshere: and your smellie ass, of course

brickmaster: crying now, thanks

ynshere: bullied you too hard?

brickmaster: yeah, i'm getting soft, i hate it

ynshere: old you would've gotten off to it. drastic character development, to be honest.

brickmaster: i hate your guts.

ynshere: ...but i gotta say, i love it when you don't emotionally barricade yourself :))

brickmaster: i need cuddles so fucking bad

brickmaster is typing...

ynshere: tomorrow, my love <3 ynshere: i'll wait for you, okay?

brickmaster: and to make out for like 5 hours straight

ynshere: oh alright. you ruined it.

brickmaster: what can i say? doctor's orders.

ynshere: freaky ass doctor

ynshere: let's get off here

brickmaster: yes please brickmaster: i want your voice in my ears and your name in my mouth

ynshere: okay horny poet calm down ynshere: call me

brickmaster: calling in 3 brickmaster: 2 brickmaster: 1

ynshere is away.

brickmaster is away.

dinathedrummer has signed in

ynshere: DEEEEEEEEE ynshere: OOOOMYGAAWDDD HI

dinathedrummer: HI BABYGIRL dinathedrummer: i literally was just about to message you

ynshere: SAME BRAIN ynshere: you'll never guess what

dinathedrummer: what whattwhat dinathedrummer: TELL ME

ynshere: I MOVED IN WITH ELLIE ynshere: AHHHHHHHHH ynshere: LIKE OFFICIALLY ynshere: WE HAVE A WHOLE ASS HOUSE ynshere: AND A PUPPY

dinathedrummer: SCREAMING dinathedrummer: A PUPPY??????? dinathedrummer: WHAT KIND WHAT NAME WHAT COLOR

ynshere: A GOLDEN RETRIEVER ynshere: HIS NAME IS NUGGET ynshere: HE'S STUPID AND PERFECT

dinathedrummer: I AM THROWING MYSELF OUT A WINDOW dinathedrummer: WHEN CAN I COME SEE HIM dinathedrummer: AND YOU dinathedrummer: AND THE LOSER

ynshere: as soon as possible :)) ynshere: bring Jesse too ynshere: i wanna show you guys everything ynshere: pls pls pls come visit

dinathedrummer: OK BUT WAIT WAIT WAIT dinathedrummer: BEFORE I SAY YES dinathedrummer: i have to tell you something

ynshere: oh god what ynshere: are you breaking up with me

dinathedrummer: I'M PREGNANT

ynshere: !?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?! ynshere: SHUT THE FUCK UP ynshere: YOURE LY^JING

dinathedrummer: NO I AM NOT dinathedrummer: YOU ARE TALKING TO A PREGNANT AND ENGAGED WOMAN RIGHT NOW

ynshere: HOLY SHIT ynshere: I NEED TO SIT DOWN ynshere: WAIT I AM ALREADY SITTING

dinathedrummer: I KNOW IM FREAKING OUT dinathedrummer: JESSE IS FREAKING OUT dinathedrummer: WERE BOTH FREAKING OUT

ynshere: IM FREAKING OUT

ynshere: YOURE HAVING A BABY WTF ynshere: i feel like we're still kids :')

dinathedrummer: i know right ynshere: still not an excuse not to visit though.

ynshere: i will carry you if i have to ynshere: we will roll you through the door on a giant beanbag ynshere: nugget will love you

dinathedrummer: okay, but no Ellie near the baby

ynshere: the baby is still inside you.

dinathedrummer: details.

ynshere: fair enough though ynshere: i'm texting ellie now ynshere: and i am cleaning the house because i want you to think we're cool adults

dinathedrummer: babe be serious... you live with Ellie Williams. dinathedrummer: no one thinks you're cool

ynshere: rude

dinathedrummer: truth dinathedrummer: i love you tho

ynshere: love you too ynshere: i'm so happy for you ynshere: you're gonna be an amazing mom ynshere: and Jesse will be like ynshere: the weird dad who tries to make up raps for bedtime

dinathedrummer: 10000%/^ dinathedrummer: omg i gotta go Jesse is literally eating cereal out of a pot right now i have to stop this man

ynshere: please make sure your baby never hits its head

dinathedrummer: i really hope he doesn't get the Jesse gene

ynshere: HE????

dinathedrummer: gut feeling

dinathedrummer: i'll call you later!!

dinathedrummer is away.

ynshere: you better ynshere is away.

brickmaster has signed in ynshere has signed in

brickmaster: no fucking way

ynshere: LMAO ynshere: AT THE SAME FUCKING TIME???

brickmaster: did your fingers just magically remember the password too?

ynshere: i call it witchcraft ynshere: or maybe the gay nostalgia was too strong to resist

brickmaster: honestly brickmaster: it's been what? six years?

ynshere: five ynshere: don't age us like that

brickmaster: oh i'm not the one aging us, adulthood is.

brickmaster: i'm literally sitting in a break room with a vending machine that ate my dollar

ynshere: i'm in a supply closet with my laptop on a box of printer paper ynshere: we're living the dream, babe

ynshere: god. remember when this was the only way we talked for like… years?

brickmaster: yeah brickmaster: and i constantly kept logging off mid convo like a coward

ynshere: growth <3 …even if you still sulk in the kitchen now when you're upset ynshere: but look at you now ynshere: emotionally available and in real pants!!

brickmaster: these are khakis and i want to die

ynshere: i warned you about office jobs ynshere: now you're just another girl in a polo

brickmaster: ..girl in a polo that says howdy

brickmaster: get it right

ynshere: sigh... i know ynshere: you're lucky i stuck around after your "howdy" phase

brickmaster: you just started saying it back

ynshere: loyalty

brickmaster: love

ynshere: same thing tbh

brickmaster: hey

ynshere: heyyheyh

brickmaster: thanks for not giving up on me back then brickmaster: seriously

ynshere: thanks for growing up with me ynshere: and for making it here ynshere: with me

brickmaster: you ever think about what would've happened if we didn't work out? brickmaster: if we never talked it out that night?

ynshere: sometimes ynshere: and then i look over and see your hoodie on the floor ynshere: and your nerdy cereal bowls in the sink ynshere: and i remember ynshere: we're good ynshere: we made it :)

brickmaster: we really did huh

ynshere: yeah ynshere: when are you coming home btw

brickmaster: uhh getting off earlier today, actually. forgot to tell you

ynshere: oh cool. what's the occasion?

brickmaster: i wanna fuck my fiancee's brains out?

ynshere: alright. too bold. ynshere: log off

brickmaster: thought you were into it last night?

ynshere: i was just shocked cause you proposed midfuck

brickmaster: yeah, after you were moaning like a pornstar. don't twist it

ynshere: pfft, i was faking it

brickmaster: nah. your pussy was literally convulsing around my fingers

ynshere: guess i've gotten real good at acting, huh?

brickmaster: okay, no oat milk for you then

ynshere: and no cookie for you tonight

brickmaster: you're actually a monster

ynshere: mhm a cookie monster. see you later baby?

brickmaster: always

ynshere: oh, and grab oat milk on your way home, we're out

brickmaster is typing…

ynshere is away.

brickmaster: ask your dad

brickmaster: …coward

brickmaster is away.

taglist: smelliewilliams onlinelesbo itsbecomeblue macaroni676 tearouthearts diddiqueen liasxeatt seraphicsentences 4ftergloww @benthoee liasxeatt satellitespinner tphmnv kaiilectric bready101 mikellie angelsglitch coeurcanelle iadorefineshyt ravyaryn xfairyari ellamaexxxx nats-revival shxvers tiaradoll

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monserelates · 17 days ago

Text

P.S. I'm Still Not Over You; James Potter

part 4 of the p.s. series

⇨ f! reader x james potter

⇨ summary: The girls have decided to help you (against your will) with your love story, will their plan turn out or wll destiny have another thing planned for you?

⇨ warnings/notes: use of y/n, lowkey confusing timeline angst, not proofread, Emotional cheating themes, heartbreak, tension, crying, James spiraling, reader torn between two people, longing, and one (okay maybe a few) very old love letters/

⇨ word count: 2.9k

The fire crackles like it knows something you don’t. Which is fitting. Everyone seems to know something you don’t. Or worse—something you do, but can’t bring yourself to say out loud.

“Okay,” Marlene says, arms crossed and eyes dangerous. “We need a timeline, a location, and two distractions. Then we strike.”

Lily frowns. “This isn’t a murder plot.”

“It might as well be,” you mutter from the couch, buried under three textbooks you aren’t reading and a guilt you can’t shake. “It feels like I’m planning to bury someone alive.”

Dorcas throws a sock at you. “Stop being dramatic. You’re not murdering anyone.”

“I’m emotionally decapitating myself,” you say flatly. “That's worse.”

“Sweetheart,” Lily says, folding herself onto the floor beside you, “if you were truly over Potter, you wouldn’t still be carrying around a letter you wrote in fifth year and never sent.”

You stiffen.

Marlene winces. “Too soon?”

“Yes,” you say.

“No,” Dorcas says at the same time.

Lily sighs. “Look, all we’re saying is—it’s eating you up. And him too. Peter told us he barely slept last night.”

“Peter should mind his business,” you mutter, face heating.

“He’s part of the intervention,” Dorcas says cheerfully. “No one gets to be Switzerland in a romantic meltdown of this magnitude.”

Marlene plucks the forgotten letter from where it’s half-tucked into your Arithmancy book. The parchment is worn, corners softened from how many times you’ve opened it. She clears her throat before starting to read in a dramatic-soap-opera accent,

"My Dearest James,

I don’t know why I’m writing this. You’ll never read it. You’re probably laughing with Sirius somewhere, chasing Bludgers or charming your way out of detention.And I’ll keep pretending I don’t--"

You snatch it back before she gets to the end. "Marlene, I will literally jump your ass." “I wrote that before Amos. Before anything. I was stupid.”

“You were in love,” Lily says, gently.

You press your lips together. “And now I’m not sure if I’m allowed to be.”

Silence.

Then Marlene sighs. “I was gonna save this for later, but—James reread his letters too.”

Your heart drops. “What?”

“Peter caught him with the box. The one with the envelopes. Said he’d been staring at the second one for twenty minutes.”

The second one. The one where he let you go.

You don’t say anything.

“Listen,” Lily says quietly. “We know you feel guilty about Amos. And scared. And maybe a little angry that none of this happened when it was supposed to. But life doesn’t happen on time. Love sure as heck doesn’t.”

“I’m not ready,” you admit, voice small. “Not to forgive him. Not to—feel this big again. Not when I was just starting to forget.”

Dorcas leans in. “So don’t forgive him. Don’t do anything, if you don’t want to. But don’t pretend like it didn’t mean anything. To either of you.”

Footsteps sound from the boy’s staircase. The Marauders are descending.

“Here we go,” Lily mutters.

“Act natural,” Dorcas hisses.

“I am natural!” you whisper back, definitely not naturally.

Sirius enters first, talking with Remus about someone hexing the suits of armor into singing Celestina Warbeck. James follows, dragging a hand through his hair, his eyes scanning the room before landing on you.

He stops.

You don’t look away.

You should.

Yeah, you definetly should.

But you don’t.

The air goes still.

He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t scowl either. Just… watches. Like he’s remembering too.

Sirius is the one to break it. “Alright, why does it feel like something deeply manipulative is happening in this corner of the common room?” He glares at the girls.

“Because it is,” Peter says brightly, earning himself three glares.

James slowly makes his way to the hearth, settling opposite you but saying nothing. Your friends all pretend to do other things, horribly.

“So,” he says finally. “You’re here.”

You blink. “I live here.”

“Right.” He looks away. “Right.”

More silence. More tension.

You think of the letter. Of the way your name looked in his handwriting. Of how he said he didn’t feel good enough. Of how much easier this would be if you didn’t still love him.

But you do.

You hate that you do.

And somehow, the fire keeps crackling, like it’s waiting.

Everyone’s still pretending nothing is happening.

The problem is, everything is.

James is now at the far end of the couch, legs stretched out, fingers twitching against his knee like he’s holding back a Quidditch reflex. You’re across from him, trying not to look every time the firelight catches his eyes. (You fail. Twice and counting.)

You’re meant to be reviewing Transfiguration theory. Instead, you’ve read the same sentence five times and still don’t know what a Vanishing Spell’s molecular cost is.

Across the room, Sirius mutters something to Remus and cackles. Remus doesn’t even try to look innocent. Lily shoots them both a death glare. Dorcas is scribbling something into her planner that looks suspiciously like a timeline labeled “J+Y/I.”

You lift your eyes. James lifts his too.

A beat. You both look away.

It’s been like this all week.

After the letters, after the fights, after Amos... You’d thought maybe silence would feel like peace. Instead, it feels like a scream neither of you is ready to release.

“Hey.” His voice startles you.

You glance over. His gaze is gentle now, less tense than earlier, but still wary. Always wary.

“You, um—drop this.” He holds up a parchment. Your parchment.

You freeze.

It’s the edge of the letter you wrote. The one from fifth year. My dearest James...

“Nope!” Marlene snatches it so fast her wrist nearly cracks. “Sorry. That’s—mine. Old homework. Rubbish, really.”

James blinks. “...Right.”

You feel like you might combust. Lily’s hand lands on your shoulder, subtle but grounding.

“So,” Sirius cuts in, dramatically flipping onto his stomach like a cat, “this is cozy. Almost romantic. Firelight. Study books. Long, lingering glances.”

“Sirius,” you and James say at the same time.

He grins. “There it is! The unspoken synchrony.”

Dorcas: “Gross.”

Remus: “It’s like watching a Shakespeare tragedy in slow motion.”

James mutters, “You lot are actual demons.”

You shake your head. “Don’t encourage them.”

Another glance. Longer this time.

He’s still wearing the sweater you like. The one with the worn cuffs, the sleeves too long. You remember falling asleep beside him in that sweater once, years ago, before anything had names.

You look away again.

The silence returns. But it’s not the awful kind. It’s filled with almosts.

And maybe that’s what tonight is. Not a beginning. Not a confrontation. Just... circling.

Too aware. Too afraid. Too much, too soon.

But not nothing.

Definitely not nothing.

“Okay,” Lily whispers. “So we plant it. He finds it. We gauge his reaction. Nothing explodes. That’s the plan.”

“I’m sorry,” you blink, “what part of this isn’t emotionally reckless?”

Marlene, lying upside down on her bed, grins. “All of it. That's the point.”

Dorcas holds up your fifth-year letter. The one you never sent. The one Marlene found by accident. The one that begins: “My dearest James, I don’t even know why I’m writing this…”

You almost snatch it back. You don’t.

“This is ridiculous,” you murmur. “What am I even hoping to get out of this? That he reads it and goes, ‘Oh, brilliant, I’ll fall madly in love now, thanks for the stationary’?”

“Maybe not,” Lily says carefully. “But don’t you want to see? Just... see?”

You hesitate.

The parchment is soft now, worn from your hands. You’ve read it so many times the words have lost their shape. But the feeling is still there. Still clinging.

You exhale. “Fine. But we do it my way.”

Later That Night – Common Room

You slip the letter into his Transfiguration textbook. Third page in, just tucked enough that it won’t fall but not so hidden it won’t be found.

The girls watch you like you're defusing a bomb.

“This is going to backfire spectacularly,” you mutter.

“Probably,” Dorcas shrugs, sipping from a stolen pumpkin juice bottle. “But it’ll be spectacular.”

“Where’s Sirius?” Lily asks suddenly.

Marlene: “He’s with Remus. Plotting something ridiculous, probably.”

Too late.

“I KNEW something was up!” Sirius Black appears behind you like a wrathful older brother summoned by the gods of gossip and poorly made choices.

You shriek. “Have you been eavesdropping?”

He places a dramatic hand on his chest. “I’ve been watching. You think I didn’t notice the tragic moon-eyed stares and the sudden ‘accidental’ brushing of hands over breakfast jam jars?”

Remus, following behind him, holds up toast. “She did literally knock the jam into his lap two days ago.”

Sirius points. “Case in point!”

You cover your face with both hands. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” he says cheerfully. “You love me. Because I’m the only thing standing between you and public humiliation. Well—besides yourself, obviously.”

He eyes the letter, now pressed in James’s book on the table.

“You sure about this, Y/N?” he asks, softer now. “Because if he hurts you again, I’m hexing him into next Tuesday.”

You smile, wobbly. “I’m not sure about anything.”

Sirius nudges your shoulder. “At least you’re not boring.”

Remus, unusually amused, leans in. “You know, you could just... talk to him.”

Everyone stares at him.

He shrugs. “What? I can be emotionally healthy sometimes.”

Marlene: “You helped Peter throw a dungbomb at his ex last week.”

“Healthy boundaries.”

Lily shakes her head. “Let’s just focus on the drop.”

“Already done,” you say quietly, eyes flicking toward the book. “Now we wait.”

Dorcas sighs dreamily. “I feel like a war general.”

“You are a war general,” Marlene says. “Of feelings.”

You collapse into the couch, nerves starting to settle.

Then the door opens.

James walks in, running a hand through his hair, yawning.

And that’s when it hits you.

The letter’s in there. Waiting. Silent and still and dangerous.

You suddenly feel like you just rewrote the future with a flick of a wrist.

Sirius leans over. “Too late to chicken out?”

You nod, wide-eyed. “Way, way too late.”

James walked back into the common room, yawning, one hand raking through his hair — a picture of casual obliviousness.

And that’s when it hits you.

The letter. It’s in there. Waiting. Silent and still and dangerous.

You suddenly feel like you’ve rewritten the future with a flick of your wand. One moment of insanity — one letter slid between pages — and now you’re staring at the boy you love, wondering if your entire life is about to shift.

Sirius leans over to whisper, “Too late to chicken out?”

You nod, wide-eyed. “Way, way too late.”

James plops onto the couch, textbook already in hand. Your stomach free-falls. He opens the cover.

And just before he can flip the page—

“Mate,” Peter says suddenly, way too loud, “fancy a trip to the kitchens?”

James blinks. “What?”

“I want a tart. Or five. Please come with me. You know I can’t talk to the painting alone.”

James raises an eyebrow. “Can’t believe I’m being emotionally blackmailed by a snack.”

Sirius is already standing. “Actually, sounds like a great idea. I could really use some jelly slugs.”

Remus smirks. “Yeah, some chocolate sounds good.”

James sighs. “Fine. But five minutes. Then I’m studying.”

You don’t exhale until the portrait hole swings closed behind them.

The girls all lean in instantly.

Marlene whispers, “If he finds it tomorrow morning, I give it three hours before he shows up at your door like a Victorian poet.”

Dorcas grins. “Do we think he’ll cry? I’m hoping he cries.”

“Shh,” Lily says suddenly. “Someone’s coming.”

Two boys climb in through the portrait hole. Ravenclaws. Seventh years, probably. Loud. Thoughtless. Not noticing the group of girls curled by the fireplace.

“—I mean, you can’t even blame Diggory,” one of them is saying. “She’s been staring at Potter like she’s in heat since the start of term.”

The other laughs. “Maybe she just likes a challenge. Must suck to go from Diggory to a bloke who won’t touch her.”

You stood so fast your chair nearly tipped.

Marlene grabbed your wrist. “Don’t. Don’t give them the satisfaction.”

But it wasn’t you who stormed back through the portrait hole.

It was James.

His face was a mask of fury, lips thin, fists clenched.

Sirius was right behind him. “James—mate—wait—”

But James didn’t wait.

He crossed the room in three strides, grabbed the first boy by the collar, and slammed him hard against the stone wall.

The entire room gasped.

“Say it again,” James hissed.

“What—?”

“Go on. Say it again. Say something about her.”

The other boy reached for his wand. “Back off, Potter.”

James didn’t even hesitate. He threw the first punch — fast and sharp and full of something he’d been bottling for months.

Okay, hot-- No. Now was not the moment.

Sirius and Remus were suddenly there, dragging him back, shouting. Peter moved to stop the other boy from retaliating. Someone screamed. A prefect ran for a professor.

The boy James hit was on the floor, lip bleeding, swearing furiously.

“You don’t ever talk about her like that,” James snarled, still fighting Sirius’ hold. “You don’t look at her like that. She’s worth ten of you.”

You couldn’t move.

You couldn’t breathe.

Somewhere between the firelight and chaos, he looked at you — just for a second. And whatever rage he carried melted into something softer. Sadder. Still burning.

And then he let Sirius drag him toward the stairs, shoulders heaving.

Remus turned back briefly. “Don’t worry. He’s not sorry.”

Lily touched your shoulder. “Are you okay?”

But you didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Your throat was tight, your hands shaking. You hadn’t cried all week — not when you broke up with Amos, not when you found the letter, not when your girls conspired to rescue your love story with ink and parchment.

But now, watching James fight the world for you like he was born to do it?

You did.

You cried.

Soft. Quiet. Shattered.

And the letter was still waiting.

The fire’s nearly out.

A faint glow flickers over your face as you sit cross-legged on the rug, letter in hand. The one your lovesick, fifth year self wrote. The one you helped plant, then second-guessed so violently you’re now contemplating throwing it straight into the flames.

Your thumb brushes over the parchment's edge. You don’t open it—you know what it says. You wrote it. You helped bait him. And now, after what happened outside the kitchens, it feels cruel.

The words echo again in your head.

"She left Diggory for Potter. What a joke. What a slut."

And then James, practically flying across the hallway. Fists clenched. Fury painted across his face like war.

You flinch at the memory. Not because he scared you—but because it scared you how much it mattered. How fast he ran. How much he cared.

The portrait hole creaks behind you.

You don’t turn. You' already know it’s him.'re to immersed in your own thoughts to notice.

He doesn’t speak at first. Just stands there in the dark, probably unsure if he should even come closer.

Finally, James says, “You’re still up.”

You hum. “So are you.”

A beat. He walks toward you, then sits beside you on the floor, not too close, not too far. His hands rest on his knees. His knuckles are bruised.

You eye them. “You alright?”

He shrugs. “Didn’t hit him as hard as I wanted.”

You snort, despite yourself. “Yeah. I noticed.”

Silence wraps around you both for a moment. Not hostile. Not heavy. Just… hesitant.

James swallows. “I didn’t do it for the drama, you know. I didn’t do it so you'd see.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t even realize what they were saying until—” He cuts himself off. “I didn’t like hearing them talk about you like that.”

You finally look at him.

“I didn’t like watching you believe them.”

That makes your chest tighten.

James shifts, glancing at the parchment in your hands. “Is that it?”

You nod.

He gestures to it. “You’re gonna burn it?”

“I thought about it.”

“Why?”

You laugh under your breath, bitter. “Because it’s pathetic.”

He looks at you like you’ve just stabbed him. “It’s not.”

You raise a brow. “You haven’t even read it.”

“Don’t need to.”

You blink. “What?”

“I don’t need to read it to know it’s not pathetic if it came from you.”

You exhale shakily.

James leans back on his elbows, looking up at the dying firelight painting shadows across the ceiling.

“I messed everything up,” he says. “I waited too long, and, as much as it hurt, I watched you fall in love with someone else."

“I wrote a letter too, James.” you say quietly.

“I know that now.”

Another silence. This one hurts more. This one tastes like every moment you could’ve had but didn’t.

James sits up. “Can I ask something?”

You nod.

“If I told you… that I never stopped meaning what I wrote in those letters. That every day since fifth year has been me trying to pretend I didn’t care too much—”

You hold your breath.

“—would you hate me?”

You shake your head. “No.”

He looks at you then, full-on. “Would you still love me?”

It comes out barely a whisper: “I never stopped.”

The letter crumples in your lap.

James reaches for your hand, slowly, like you might bolt. When your fingers meet, it’s soft. Familiar.

Not desperate. Just real.

He presses his forehead to yours. “I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Your eyes close. “Me neither.”

And for the first time since fifth year, everything feels still.

Not perfect. Not fixed.

But finally, finally honest.

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cressidagrey · 3 months ago

Text

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Epilogue (The End)

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes:

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

And with that, we have reached the end. I could, as always, write a lot more, (And maybe eventually I will, but for right now, that's where we will leave Lando and Lizzie.)

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Twitch Stream Transcript – Max Fewtrell & Lando Norris

[Stream starts]

Max: Right, chat. I know we’ve been through a lot together. We’ve seen things. We’ve survived things. But I don’t think any of you are ready for what’s about to happen.

Max: Because, somehow, defying all expectations, defying all logic—Lando Norris is actually here.

Chat:

LIAR.

NO WAY.

PROVE IT.

MAX THIS BETTER NOT BE A PRERECORDED AI CLIP.

OH SO HE DOES EXIST.

IT’S BEEN 84 YEARS.

Lando: [over voice chat, deadpan] I hate you.

Max: Gasp. He speaks. It’s real. It’s happening.

Lando: You’re so dramatic.

Max: No, mate, I’m just telling it like it is. The last time we saw you, you were escaping the internet at full speed. Thought you retired. Went off the grid. Became a monk.

Lando: Yeah, well. Things got messy.

Max: Understatement of the year.

Chat:

YEAH NO KIDDING.

THE INTERNET WAS A NIGHTMARE.

LIZZIE DESERVED BETTER.

MARAAA OUR QUEEN.

THE ABLEISM WAS SO BAD.

LANDO DEFENDING HER >>>

Max: So, how’s Lizzie?

Lando: She’s good. Writing, mostly. And making sure I actually sleep.

Max: A saint.

Lando: Obviously.

Chat:

PROTECT HER AT ALL COSTS.

SHE NEEDS TO KNOW WE LOVE HER.

I WANT TO SEND HER FANMAIL BUT I’M SCARED.

MARA POST WHEN??

TELL LIZZIE SHE’S A QUEEN.

Max: But mate, you really should’ve warned me before hopping on. Nearly had a heart attack.

Lando: Didn’t think it was that big of a deal.

Max: Didn’t think it was—oh my god. Chat, back me up.

Chat:

IT IS A BIG DEAL.

HISTORIC MOMENT.

LORE DROP.

WE THOUGHT LIZZIE LOGGED YOU OUT FOREVER.

DO YOU EVEN REMEMBER YOUR TWITCH PASSWORD??

SHE PROBABLY DRAGGED HIM BACK HERE.

Lando: Actually, she’s in the kitchen right now.

Max: Oh, is she? What’s she doing?

Lando: Giving Mara peanut butter.

Max: …Oh no.

Lando: Yeah.

(And then, as if on cue, absolute chaos erupts in Lando’s mic—loud licking, snuffling, something knocking against furniture. A thump. A very happy dog making a complete racket.)

Max: WHAT IS HAPPENING.

Lando: [muffled laughter] She’s going feral.

Max: CHAT, DO YOU HEAR THIS?

Chat:

MARAAA.

SHE’S EATING LIKE SHE HASN’T BEEN FED IN YEARS.

DOG ASMR STREAM WHEN.

THAT’S THE SOUND OF A QUEEN ENJOYING LIFE.

SHE DESERVES EVERY BIT OF THAT PEANUT BUTTER.

Max: Mate. Your dog is losing it.

Lando: She loves peanut butter.

Max: Yeah, no kidding. It sounds like she’s wrestling it.

Lando: Wouldn’t surprise me.

Max: I swear, chat’s gonna riot if you don’t post a Mara video soon.

Lando: I’ll think about it.

Max: Think about it? No, mate, you don’t understand. Mara is the people’s princess.

Chat:

MARA FOR PRESIDENT.

SHE DESERVES THE WORLD.

THE WAY SHE’S JUST EXISTING AND WE’RE ALL LOSING IT.

THIS IS NOW A MARA FAN STREAM.

GIRLBOSS.

Max: You could literally disappear again for months, but if you drop one single Mara clip, all will be forgiven.

Lando: Huh. Good to know.

Max: Don’t even pretend like you won’t exploit that.

Lando: [grinning] Wouldn’t dream of it.

(Mara, still licking peanut butter, lets out an extremely content sigh.)

Max: Oh, that was adorable.

Lando: Yeah, she’s great.

Max: I can feel chat melting over this.

Chat:

SHE’S SO PRECIOUS.

LIZZIE AND MARA HARD CARRYING THE CONTENT RIGHT NOW.

MARA POST WHEN.

WE DON’T DESERVE HER.

SHE’S SO REAL FOR THIS.

Max: Right. Now that we’ve all had our emotional moment over Mara’s peanut butter obsession, shall we actually play the game?

Lando: Probably.

Max: But just so we’re clear—this stream peaked the moment Mara showed up.

Lando: Yeah, I figured.

(Chat spams heart emojis as the game finally begins.)

***

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car PrinceBy June Shepard

Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton has built an empire on love stories—intoxicating, sweeping, heart-stopping love stories that have made her one of the most successful romantasy authors of the decade. Her Seasons of Fate series, a four-book saga filled with magic, intrigue, and forbidden romance, has captivated millions worldwide, cementing her place as the reigning queen of the genre.

But even her most devoted readers could never have predicted that she was living out a love story of her own. And certainly not with one of the biggest stars in motorsport.

When Lizzie Treshton walked into the Silverstone paddock in July 2025, hand-in-hand with McLaren’s Lando Norris, social media imploded.

No one had any idea they were together. No rumors, no leaks—just an earth-shattering confirmation that sent both F1 and romantasy Twitter into collective cardiac arrest.

"It wasn’t supposed to be a big thing," Treshton says now, curled up on a sofa in her Surrey flat, a steaming mug of tea in hand. "Lando was racing at Silverstone. I wanted to be there to support him. I didn’t think the world would explode."

Perhaps that was naive. Because if there’s one thing the world loves, it’s an unexpected crossover. And this? This was the ultimate crossover event.

Lando Norris has spent the last six years in the high-pressure world of Formula 1, balancing blistering lap times with an ever-growing fanbase that adores his mix of raw talent, easy charm, and chaotic humor. He’s no stranger to public scrutiny. But even he was caught off guard by the sheer scale of the reaction.

"I knew Lizzie was a big deal," he says, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. "But I didn’t fully grasp it until people started calling me ‘the romantasy book boyfriend of the year.’"

He grins. "I think my sisters are still mad I didn’t tell them who I was dating."

That particular detail has only added to the legend of "Lizzie & Lando." While Norris’s family knew he had a girlfriend, they had no idea it was that Lizzie Treshton—the very same author whose books they had lined up at midnight to buy. His sisters, self-proclaimed romantasy fanatics, took approximately thirty seconds to forgive him before launching into full-scale fangirl mode.

But not everyone has been as welcoming.

Almost immediately after Silverstone, the backlash began. While plenty of fans celebrated the unexpected pairing, others turned vicious. Some called Treshton “undeserving.” Others dismissed the relationship entirely, claiming Norris would eventually move on.

And then there were the ones who went after her health.

Treshton has always been open about living with epilepsy, discussing it occasionally in interviews and social media posts. But being open about something and having it dissected by millions of strangers are two very different things.

Some reactions were cruel—questioning Norris’s commitment, making sweeping judgments about Treshton’s ability to “keep up” with the fast-paced, jet-setting lifestyle of an F1 driver. Others were outright ableist, using her condition as a reason to doubt her place at his side.

Norris, uncharacteristically sharp in his response, took to Instagram. “The way some of you have spoken about Liz—the woman I love—is disgusting. There’s no other way to put it. You’ve taken something she has no control over and used it as an excuse to dehumanize her, to insult her, to act like she isn’t worthy of me.”

McLaren issued a formal statement condemning the backlash, while much of the grid rallied behind Treshton, with drivers like Lewis Hamilton and Charles Leclerc publicly voicing their support.

“It was disgusting,” Treshton says bluntly. “But not surprising.”

"I’ve lost people because of my epilepsy," Treshton says quietly, her fingers tightening around her mug. "People who couldn’t handle it. People who didn’t want to try."

Her mother was one of them.

Treshton doesn’t often talk about her mother, but when she does, it’s with a detachment that speaks of wounds long since buried. "She left when I was young," she says. "Said she couldn’t deal with it. So she didn’t."

She exhales slowly. "I learned early on that some people see epilepsy as an inconvenience. Like it makes you fragile. But it doesn’t make me less. And it sure as hell doesn’t make me unlovable."

Despite the backlash, Treshton and Norris remain unfazed. Their relationship, built away from the public eye, is stronger than the noise that surrounds it.

"Lando makes me feel safe," she admits. "Not in a way that makes me feel like I need protecting, but in a way that reminds me I don’t have to do everything alone."

For Norris, it’s simple. "She’s incredible," he says. "And I’m lucky to have her. End of story."

There’s something almost cinematic about the two of them. The bestselling author who spins love stories for a living. The racing driver who defies speed and gravity every weekend. It’s the kind of pairing that shouldn’t make sense. And yet, it does.

At the end of the day, theirs isn’t just a love story. It’s a story about resilience. About belonging. About choosing each other in a world that constantly tries to tear people down.

When asked what’s next, Treshton shrugs. “I have a book to finish. He has races to win. And beyond that?” She tilts her head, thoughtful. “I think we’ll just keep surprising people.”

One thing is clear: the queen of romantasy and her race car prince are far from a fleeting fairytale.

They’re just getting started.

****

8 December 2024, Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi

The moment Lando stepped out of the car, the world blurred around him. The cheers, the McLaren team swarming in orange, the fireworks—none of it felt real. He had won Abu Dhabi. He had won the Constructors’ Championship for McLaren. After years of dreaming, of heartbreak, of being so close yet so far—he had done it.

His mother reached him first, arms tight around his shoulders, holding him like she never wanted to let go. “Lando,” she breathed, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes. “You’ve made so many people happy today.”

His father clapped a firm hand on his back, pride evident in his expression. His team, his engineers, Zak Brown—everyone was celebrating around him. But Lando was already searching for someone else.

And then he saw her.

Lizzie stood off to the side, wrapped in one of his McLaren jackets, Mara sitting dutifully at her feet. She looked exhausted, and he knew why. Just last night, she had suffered a seizure. He had been with her through it, waiting for the worst to pass. He had told her she didn’t have to come today, that she should stay at the hotel and rest.

But Lizzie was nothing if not stubborn.

Her gaze found his, and her face lit up like the fireworks lighting the sky outside.

He could see how tired she was, though, in the tightness around her eyes, the way her body was still a little stiff.

But she was here.

His feet moved before his brain caught up, and suddenly, she was in front of him, her hands reaching up to his face before he could say a word.

Her fingers traced over his skin, her tired eyes taking him in with a familiar, almost reverent look. It was as if she couldn’t believe he was real. Lando knew the feeling.

“Like I ever would have missed this,” she murmured before he could scold her for being out in the chaos of the paddock. Her thumbs brushed his cheekbones, her voice thick with emotion. “Lando, you did it. You actually did it.”

"You didn't need to come," he whispered. His hands came to rest on her waist, grounding himself. “I was worried about you.”

“And I was never going to miss watching you win,” she said simply, smiling up at him. “I am so proud of you.”

Lando let out a shaky breath.

Then, with the whole world watching, he kissed her.

It was soft, careful—his hands tightening on her waist like he was terrified she might disappear, like he still wasn’t sure if any of this was real. When he pulled back, her eyes were shining, and for the first time since he crossed the finish line, it hit him.

He had everything he had ever wanted.

****

Dedications of The Seasons of Fate:

A Spring of Secrets and Thorns

For Mara—

My steady ground, my quiet guardian, my fiercest protector.

For every unseen battle you’ve helped me fight, for every moment you’ve kept me safe, and for always being by my side—this book, like so much of my life, is possible because of you.

A Summer of Blood and Bloom

For Dad—

For every doctor’s appointment, every sleepless night, and every time you carried the weight of the world so I wouldn’t have to.

You taught me that love doesn’t walk away—it stays, it fights, and it endures. This book is a testament to that, and to you.

An Autumn of Fire and Stone

For Tasha and Aunt Lou—

For the sister I chose and the woman who made us family.

For every page read, every dream encouraged, and every time you reminded me that I was more than my worst days. I am who I am because I had you both beside me. I couldn’t have done this without you.

A Winter of Ash and Starlight

For Lando -

Who taught me that love, like speed, can take your breath away in an instant. You’ve turned the pages of my life in the most unexpected, beautiful way.

Thank you for showing me that sometimes the best stories are the ones you never saw coming.

Ours is my favourite one.

Acknowledgments – A Winter of Ash and Starlight

Writing this book, and really this entire series, has been one of the greatest joys of my life. I never imagined that a story I started one summer in my dad’s garden would turn into this, but here we are. I couldn’t have done it alone, and I wouldn’t have wanted to.

To my dad—thank you for everything. For the late-night talks, the endless encouragement, and the way you always made sure I knew I was enough, just as I am. You’ve been my rock, my biggest supporter, and the reason I never stopped believing I could do this.

To Aunt Lou—you are proof that family is about love, not blood. You didn’t have to be a mother to me, but chose to be anyway. I don’t have the words to properly thank you for that, but I hope you know how much I love you.

To Tasha—my sister in every way that matters. For always having my back, for every chaotic adventure, and for making sure I never forget who I am. You are my favorite person to cause trouble with.

To Mara—my best girl, my constant companion, my real-life guardian angel. You have been curled up beside me through every late-night writing session, every deadline panic, every high and low. There is no version of my life, or this book, without you in it.

This book marks the end of Astrid and Ciaran’s journey—the last chapter of their love story. And in a way, it closes a chapter of my own life, too. Love has a funny way of finding you when you least expect it, and just as I was bringing Astrid and Ciaran home, someone walked into my life and changed everything.

To Lando—who came into my life just as I was closing this chapter and somehow became the best story of all. I don’t know if fate is real, but if it is, I think it was always meant to bring me to you. You walked into my world when I wasn’t sure I deserved something good, and you have never let me forget that I do.

Thank you for every quiet moment and every inside joke. Thank you for the dino nuggets, the peanut butter and the Ferrari Dog Bandanas. Thank you for making me laugh, for making me feel safe, and for proving, every single day, that love isn’t about grand gestures, but about showing up, time and time again.

You have been the greatest plot twist of my life. I love you.

And finally, to the readers—thank you for taking this journey with me. Thank you for believing in Astrid and Ciaran, in fate and magic, in love that defies the odds. This world, this story, exists because of you.

Here’s to new stories, new adventures, and finding our own kind of magic. Always.

With love and endless gratitude, Elizabeth Louise Treshton

The End

385 notes · View notes

storywriter007 · 11 months ago

Note

can you do a “fighting for the first time” preference/headcannons with the HoO boys ? i love ur work!!

Fighting for the First Time - HoO Boys x Fem!Reader

author's note: thank you for the request!! and i'm so glad you like my work, this literally made my day. this is what i feel like first fights (non-quest related) would go but add your ideas in the comments!!

genre: angst ending in fluff

word count: 1.5k but it's all in bullet points

-> heroes of olympus masterlist

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

send me requests here! (these are my guidelines)

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percy jackson

the first time you guys seriously fight, it goes one of two ways

either a.) he doesn't care about who's right and just wants things to go back to normal or b.) he thinks he's right

option a is the preferred option

he tries to talk to you, finding you whenever and wherever

he refuses to leave until the problem is sorted out

and he is upset the entire duration of the fight

he apologizes for anything

"i'm sorry if i did anything at all to hurt you" kind of apology

option a fights would be over things like unintentionally hurting each-other

like accidentally saying something mean or sparring too roughly with each-other

or it would be over his reckless behavior

in which he understands why it worries you

this first fight wouldn't last long

maybe a day before you guys are all good again

option b is the worst

when he's convinced he's right, he tunes you out

not intentionally, it's just that he's too caught up in what he's feeling to properly listen to you

you guys go back and forth in circles

practically yelling at each-other

his eyes get dark and he becomes angry quickly

refuses to listen to you until things reach a tipping point

either you or him storm out and leave the other one alone for a few days and talk it out once they've cooled down

or one of you starts crying, and the anger is overshadowed by guilt and heartbreak bc of their ignorance

this fight would probably be over his loved ones

if you had pointed out a flaw about them or something they did which you didn't appreciate

or maybe just a passing comment you unintentionally made

i mean the loyalty on that man is crazy

lots of hurt feelings during this fight

and it would last a while - the most being a week

however, both fights would have a mutual apology

where both of you apologize for the things you've said and done

and you guys agree to do better in the future

you probs end up falling asleep in cabin 3 that night

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jason grace

to get in a serious fight with him, it's gotta be something big

jason is calm and level-headed

he takes a walk the first time things get heated and comes back to you with a clear mind

he talks to you calmly, treating the fight more like a debate

don't get it wrong though: internally he's freaking out

he's lost a lot, and he doesn't want to lose you

honestly your first serious fight with him would be over reckless behavior (on your end) or him being walked over

your first serious fight spawns from how deeply you two care for each-other

either he's mad you don't care about yourself and doesn't know how to tell you calmly bc you don't listen

or you're mad that he's ready to die for gods and kids who don't care about him in the least

you guys only fight about these things because light-hearted conversations don't send the message

jason, especially, stays stern during the fight

you wonder if he even cares tbh

but then you notice how he pauses and searches for words, how his lip twitches when you say something snappy, and the look in his eyes

he barely raises his voice, and only does it when you interrupt him constantly

the first fight would end within a day

it would end with revealing why you are reckless or why he is so selfless

it would be a calm, vulnerable conversation

would probs end in a make-out session bc he was so afraid he was gonna lose you

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leo valdez

i'm going to be so real rn: the fight starts because he's feeling inferior

he loves you sm and he considers himself lucky to have you

but bc of that - his feeling of inferiority would be on the back of his mind

he's not really jealous, but more-so afraid you're going to leave him at the drop of a hat like how everyone else has

so he gets upset if you're spending too much time around any other guy

the book series repeatedly talks about leo's insecurities and how he feels like he's not good enough and how he feels everything is his fault

insecurity runs deep and it would most definitely be a reason for a fight

you guys do raise your voices bc at first you're not understanding each-other

you think he's jealous and he thinks you don't want to be with him anymore

after you guys are done with your screaming match, leo would coop up wherever his machines are

he would stay there for a long time and think

he 100% is over analyzing every single thing you said to him

he's convinced you guys are going to break up and you're going to leave him

and he deserves it because it's his fault for starting the argument

even though he isn't jealous or thinks you're a cheater, he just let his insecurities get the best of him

and he feels like it's over for you two

he doubts himself; wondering if he should even try to talk to you or just let what he believes is the inevitable happen

so he doesn't even try to apologize

he is convinced it is all his fault

overworks himself in an attempt to distract himself from all of his terrible thoughts

you, on the other hand, have your time alone and want to talk to him

it's nighttime and he's nowhere to be found

you go to his little lab and voila, there he is

his eyes are red and sunken and his hands are shaky and dirty

you don't say anything, you just hug him

he breaks down and tells you why he was actually mad

he profusely apologizes and doesn't blame you if you want to break up

you explain to him that you are with him because you love him and that one little fight would never make you leave him

you reassure him that he is more than enough

this fight doesn't last more than a day or maybe two

the fight would end with a really intense kiss

and you would probably spend the rest of the night with him in his little work area

you'd watch movies, make jokes, laugh a lot, and company him while he manically works on something

that something is metal flowers as an apology for acting the way he did

it's his way of saying "we're stuck together and i love you :)"

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frank zhang

it's difficult to get into a serious fight with frank

but if you do, it would be over reckless behavior (on your end, c'mon y/n) or his own insecurity

your reckless behavior specifically with fire

frank and fire do not get along - it's well known

he literally can't stand you doing something dangerous in general

but with fire, it's even worse

he's convinced something terrible is going to happen and he lashes out at you bc of his previous experiences with fire

this fight would be short-lived though, bc you would understand why he feels that way

you'd apologize to him and he would apologize for lashing out

you'd agree to stop joking around with fire, but you'd convince him to start getting over his fear

this first fight actually ends up more helpful in the long run as frank slowly overcomes his fear of fire with you by his side

however, if it's his own insecurities, this would go another way

as mentioned, frank has been bullied

and he repeatedly feels like an outcast because he doesn't have dyslexia/adhd, he's an archer but he's a mars kid, and his life depends on a piece of firewood

your fight would start bc he felt left out with you

but it's just him overthinking

(if you use a sword) it's you sparring with jason or percy for practice

and it kinda makes him feel like "i want to help my gf but she needs someone who's actually good"

if you hang out with another mars kid for too long

makes him think "what i should be"

if you made a jab at him that he took a little too seriously

frank is a gentle giant, so he wouldn't yell in the least

you guys would argue and he'd be lost for words, kind of stuttering and repeating himself a lot

he'd just kinda walk off during an argument

this would make you mad bc he started the thing and doesn't want to listen to you

but really, he just wants to talk to you when it's not so heated

you'd go hide in your cabin/room

frank would be walking around and comes to the realization that walking out on your argument was a douchebag move

he shapeshifts into like a rat or a bug or something to go see you in your cabin and make sure you're not hurt

you'd see some random animal in your cabin and you get freaked out

he turn back into himself and apologizes for being rash

he'd be honest and tell you that he was just overthinking things and that he just got in his own head

you accept his apology and tell him to communicate better

to tell you if he feels left out or if he doesn't think something is funny, and to tell you that's he's leaving the argument bc he wants to think abt it

this fight is over by sundown

and you spend the rest of the evening practicing archery with him

660 notes · View notes

steddieas-shegoes · 20 days ago

Text

remember to try and forget

for @steddiesongfics using 'delete ya' by djo as inspiration AND i slipped a few short bursts of lyrics in here (thanks @withacapitalp for the suggestion that got me started on this, hugging you squishing you)

rated m | 1581 words | cw: implied sexual content | tags: road trip, ex friends with benefits to lovers, temporary heartbreak, angst with a happy ending, robin is a meddling friend and we love her for it, jonathan and argyle also meddle and have a great time doing it, love confessions, getting together

also on ao3

🛣️🛣️🛣️🛣️🛣️🛣️🛣️🛣️🛣️🛣️🛣️🛣️🛣️🛣️

A summer road trip should be fine.

Just the guys.

Which includes Eddie. Of course it includes Eddie. Why wouldn’t it? He’s one of the guys.

It’s just that the road trip is gonna be in Steve’s car and he doesn’t really trust anyone else to drive it, and Eddie won the passenger seat in some bet that he’s not even sure Argyle and Jonathan knew they participated in. And he’s made it a point not to be near Eddie for a while now. Pretty much since…well, since Eddie broke his heart into a million pieces and stomped on them and pretended nothing happened.

“We should probably get on the road,” Jonathan says as he closes the trunk. “We’re already an hour behind.”

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?” Steve mutters under his breath. “Alright! Let’s go!” He says louder, claps his hands together.

If he makes it through the next four days, he can make it through the rest of his life.

Eddie slams the car door and grins through the window at him.

He may not survive the next four hours.

****

It’s okay for an hour or so. Jonathan and Argyle are keeping conversation going, moving from one subject to the next with seemingly no connecting thoughts between them. Eddie’s tapping his fingers to the music playing and throwing in random quips when Argyle says something that Steve can’t follow.

Steve’s driving, only interjecting if he knows what the hell they’re talking about.

He’s ignoring Eddie.

He doesn’t even notice how he’s wearing a new cologne, or that he has a different ring on his left middle finger, or that his thighs are parted obnoxiously so that one is almost…just barely…touching where his hand rests on the middle console.

He’s not noticing it so much that he nearly drives off the road when they touch.

“Jesus!” Eddie holds out his arms as they slide to a stop on the shoulder.

Jonathan is silent, and Argyle is patting Steve on the shoulder like he’s making sure they’re still alive.

Steve puts the car in park and gets out before anyone can ask what the hell is wrong with him.

It’s so hot, and he wonders why the hell they had to do this trip in July of all months, and he isn’t paying attention at all to know Eddie’s following right behind him.

“What the hell, Harrington?” Eddie grabs his shoulder to get him to slow down. “What’s going on with you?”

A loaded question that Steve doesn’t even want to answer. He knows exactly what’s going on with him. He also knows if he wants to enjoy this road trip, he can’t tell Eddie what’s going on.

“Nothing. I just didn’t sleep well last night,” Steve starts. It’s not a complete lie. He was nervous about the trip. “I’ll be fine.”

“Why didn’t you sleep well?” Eddie pushes, because he always pushes until someone pushes back and then he runs.

“Just didn’t,” he shrugs, rubs his hand across his face. He’s turning to go back to the car when Eddie grabs his hand and holds it. He looks down at where they touch and feels that familiar ache, the thing that’s kept him from having any good sleep for months. “Let go of me.”

Eddie does, but he doesn’t move away. Steve sees him swallow, hopes it hurts the way he’s been hurting since Eddie broke his heart.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“You really wanna know?” Steve feels manic, like he did that night he ended up at Robin’s house, barely able to see past the blurry vision his anger and heartbreak gave him. She sat on his legs just so he wouldn’t pace a hole through her floor and made him listen to Blondie and Madonna to calm down before he was allowed to talk. Too bad she isn’t here now. “What’s wrong is that I put myself out there and got shot down again. What’s wrong is that you were okay when we were just fucking around a little but the moment I wanted more, you couldn’t even look at me. What’s wrong is that you agreed to go on this stupid road trip knowing I was coming and didn’t care that it would kill me to be close to you and not be able to do anything about it!”

His heart is racing, his breath is coming in short bursts. He doesn’t want to get back in the car.

“Steve…”

“Don’t, Eddie. You made it clear enough that this is one-sided and I just have to get over it. I don’t need to hear it again. I just need a few minutes.” Steve probably needs a lot more than a few minutes. He wishes he could just delete Eddie from his head the way he deleted the kids’ late fees at Family Video. “Go wait in the car.”

Eddie doesn’t move. Steve doesn’t either.

He can hear Jonathan and Argyle talking by the car, but they don’t come closer.

“I agreed because I miss you. I wanted the chance to talk to you,” Eddie finally says quietly. “I wanted to say I was sorry.”

“Right. I’m sure you’re sorry that I can’t fucking drive us on our dude getaway or whatever.”

The anger bubbles up in his chest. He feels it boiling under his skin, making him shiver and shake like a volcano about to erupt.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know how to love you when you needed me to!” Eddie says much too loudly.

Argyle and Jonathan are silent now, hopefully not watching whatever is happening as Steve’s eyes widen and he finds Eddie’s heated gaze already on him. They’re glassy, tears gathering as if he has anything to cry about.

He doesn’t get to cry; He’s the one who said he didn’t want anything more from Steve.

“You didn’t even try,” Steve hears how his own voice breaks, feels ashamed that Eddie’s getting to see his pain. He wipes sweat from his forehead and a tear from his cheek. “You didn’t even try. Why wasn’t I worth trying?”

“Steve, you were. You are.” Eddie cautiously rests his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I didn’t deserve you then, I damn sure don’t deserve you now. But I do want you to know I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for leading you on and making you think I didn’t want you when I did and I do and I’m sorry for telling you that none of it mattered when it meant everything to me.”

“So you talked to Robin.”

He’d be mad at her, but he knows what probably happened. She got mad enough to confront Eddie, Eddie was terrified to piss her off more, he explained his side of things and she got mad enough to give all of Steve’s side of things. She has no filter when she’s mad. Neither does Steve, apparently.

“She talked to me first. She’s terrifying when she’s mad,” Eddie shakes his head. “But she loves you enough to tell me I’m a fuckin’ idiot. And I love you enough to tell you that I was a fuckin’ idiot.”

“Dude, what is going on?” Argyle’s asking Jonathan.

“I think they’re finally figuring out they love each other,” Jonathan answers.

“Why did you tell me you didn’t care how I felt?” Steve ignores them. “I spent every night with you for months. Every night. I kept coming back. And you let me. And you pretended like it was good and it was going somewhere and you looked at me like it meant something and I thought-“

“You thought right. I swear you did,” Eddie is cupping his face in his hands and he barely chokes back a sob. “I’ve never…had the chance to do that with someone. I never felt real love for someone, not like this. I dunno! I was dumb!”

Steve laughs. He can’t help it. It makes Eddie smile.

“You were so dumb,” he says quietly. His shirt is sticking to him, and it’s starting to become all he can focus on. They should go. They can talk when they get to their first stop in a few hours. “Are you done being dumb?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever not be dumb, but I’m gonna do my best to love you anyway,” Eddie’s voice is full of promise and hope. He wants to believe it.

“Robin was right.”

Both of them turn at Argyle’s words, brows creasing together in silent question.

He’s beaming at them as he explains, “She said you guys would figure it out if we did this!”

Steve turns back to Eddie, a hysterical laugh bubbling out of him. “Did Robin make you come on this trip?”

“Yeah. Insisted I needed time away from Hawkins. You?”

“Yeah,” he shakes his head. “Said I needed to have some time with someone other than her before I turned into a lesbian.”

Eddie snorts. “We got tricked. If she thinks I’m not inviting her to the next campaign, she’s mistaken.”

“She won’t play the nerd game.” Steve pats his shoulder. “C’mon. We have a long drive and those two will need to stop for food soon.”

“Wait.” Eddie grabs his hands tight, his face schooled back to something more serious. “This was too easy, right?”

“Oh, you aren’t done,” Steve smirks. “You’ve got a lot of making up to do. We’re getting our own room tonight at the motel. You still have some forgiveness to earn.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie events #stranger things #steddie song fics #argyle stranger things #jonathan byers #road trip #getting together #love confessions

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spencerrscardigans · 9 months ago

Text

𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: “one day, i will stop falling in love with you / some day, someone will like me like i like you / until then, i’ll drink my coffee, eat my pie”

includes: best friends to lovers, no use of y/n, you work at family video with steve and robin, idiots to lovers, pining, angst, reader is emotional, emetophobia warning (2 mentions but no actual), fluff, robin buckley is a meddler, song inspired fic but i added a happy ending

a/n: this is the first ever oneshot that I have actually finished and am posting! yay me! I also totally didn't write this instead of doing my bio homework. this is barely edited and probably horrible but give me some grace because this is my first time writing one of these

word count: 5000

⊹₊⟡⋆

You were sure that the coffee and cherrie pie from the bakery down the street was the sole reason for getting you through your shifts at family video.

Sure, it helped that you shared most of your shifts with your two best friends, Steve and Robin, but the fact that you were hopelessly in love with one of said best friends seemed to get in the way of enjoying your shifts with them.

Robin helped make it more tolerable, however her looks of pity sent your way whenever a pretty girl came in to flirt with Steve just made it blatantly obvious how pathetic your feelings for him were.

Being one of Steve’s best friends also meant that you had to listen to every nauseating detail of his conquests with these women, making your inadequacy feel even stronger.

The bell on the door chimed, signalling that a customer had entered the store, and looking over you saw a pretty blonde around your age walk in.

You don’t bother to get up, knowing that Steve will be there to greet her before you can even stand up.

As predicted, Steve jumps up, stumbling over his feet to greet the girl. You sigh, and reach into your paper bag to grab your boxed slice of cherry pie which frankly has turned into a comfort food for situations like this.

Seemingly moving on their own accord, your eyes look up to see Steve leaning on the counter with a sly smile on his face, and you know that your feelings for him were futile.

“You know that Steve’s just an idiot, right? He has feelings for you, he’s just too blind to see what’s right in front of him.” Robin says once Steve is out of earshot.

“Or,” you start, dragging the word out, “there’s nothing for him to see. He doesn’t care like i do, he doesn’t like me like i like him. It’s okay, i’ve made my peace with it.”

Robin glances over her shoulder once more, and when she’s sure that Steve is distracted she grabs your shoulders, “he likes you!” she exclaims.

“He’s just too stupid to realize. Just tell him how you feel! I know society thinks that’s men’s job but frankly I think that’s sexist, and Steve’s too stupid to do it himself. All this pining would be over if you’d just tell him how you feel!” she says while shaking your shoulders to emphasize her point

“Rob, it’s never going to happen.” you shake your head at her.

Before Robin can argue back, the topic of your conversation starts walking towards you both, grinning while waving his hand in the air, and you make out messy numbers scribbled with ink on his skin.

The second Steve opens his mouth, you figure it would be in your best interest to tune it out, and you turn back to your pie as if it’s suddenly the most enticing thing in the room.

You let yourself enjoy your pie, and for a minute, let yourself pretend that you and Steve are more than friends, and that the sick feeling coursing through you is simply because of the coffee and pie and not heartbreak.

The bell chimes, indicating a customer has entered the store, and this time it’s your turn to jump up.

“I’ve got this one” you say, glad you have an excuse to get away from the conversation.

You hurriedly walk up to the counter, and you see a boy, about your age, scanning his eyes around the store.

“You need help finding anything?” You ask, mustering up a friendly smile.

“I’m lookin’ for something scary. Do you have Poltergeist? Or anything similar.” He asks.

“Over there,” you say pointing. “Do you want me to get it for you?” you ask.

“I think i’ve got it from here,” he says with a smile, glancing down at your name tag and reading it aloud.

You watch as he retreats, before finally stopping to scan through the movies. After a few seconds he reaches up, plucks the movie off the shelf and is making his way back up to the counter.

“Have you found everything you’re looking for?” You ask in your trained customer service voice.

He nods, before asking “So, have you seen this one? Is it any good?”

You respond, and soon enough find yourself too distracted by the conversation with the boy to notice the very familiar interaction that you had just previously had going on between your coworkers.

“You’re jealous!” Robin gasps.

“Shhhh!” Steve says, covering her mouth with his hand. “Shut up!”

“Ew,” Robin says, shoving his hand off her “You didn’t deny it!” She sing songs.

“I’m not jealous, i just think it’s inappropriate for customers to be flirting with the employees” He says defensively, eyeing the way the boys eyes light up with interest at whatever you’re saying, leaning over the counter slightly.

His comment receives a deadpanned look from Robin, “Dude, look at your hand. You literally were just bragging about how you scored that ‘totally hot girl’s’ number.”

Steve opens his mouth, ready to defend himself, but after failing to come up with something to say, he closes his mouth in defeat.

He lets out an exasperated sigh, “Okay, fuck, maybe I am.”

“Hah! I knew it.” Robin says smugly. “So,” she says, dragging out the ‘o’ “When are you gonna do something about it?”

“I can’t-“ he starts “I don’t know!” he exclaims.

“Let me guess,” she starts. “You’re going to call that girl tonight like an idiot and pretend like you’re not totally in love with someone else?”

“It’s been working so far.” he shrugs, and robin squints her eyes at him.

“Is it though? Is it?” she accuses, and Steve suddenly feels small under her stare.

“Just tell her, you dingus!” Too distracted, neither Steve or Robin notice that you’re back until your voice breaks them out of their argument.

“Tell who what?” you ask, and Steve and Robin both look at each other nervously, leaving you confused.

“She, uh, was giving me pointers for when I ask that hot blonde out.” Steve says, and you shudder.

“You’re such a boy.” You motion with your hand for Steve to move off the stool you were previously sitting on, and when he complies, you sit back down and take a sip of your coffee.

You make a face at the change of temperature of your coffee, and Steve laughs. “Gone cold?” he muses.

You shut him up with a glare, and the three of you go back into a comfortable silence as you stare at the clock, waiting for your shift to end.

After what feels like an eternity, the three of you start closing the store once your shift ends, and you plop down into the drivers seat of your car with a groan.

You start driving, and you hope that the soft music and pretty sunset is enough to bring you out of your spiral of thoughts, but when a familiar song comes on, a song that Steve showed you, you start to think that you’re cursed.

The song brings you back to the moment where you were sitting in the passenger seat of Steve’s beemer, your legs up on the dashboard despite Steve’s scolding that it’s ‘dangerous’, to which you would reply ‘whatever, mom”.

The sun was setting in the sky, similar to how it is now, you and Steve taking turns sharing music after arguing over what to listen to, Steve claiming that he had the better music taste, to which you would argue back that yours is better. After going back and forth, you ended up with a compromise of taking turns picking the music.

You remember that night vividly, because that was the night you caught the first glimmer of hope that maybe he liked you like you liked him. It was also the night where that hope was crushed just as quickly as it came.

You had caught him staring, but too distressed at what that could possibly mean you pretended you didn’t notice. You spent the rest of the night going over and over in your head of what that look possibly could have meant, driving yourself crazy to the point where Steve noticed that there was something wrong.

Steve stopped, mid sentence when he noticed that far away, troubled look in your eyes once again.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asked, seemingly bringing you out of your daze.

“Hm?”

“I said, what’s going on in that head of yours? I don’t think you’ve registered a single word of that story I was just telling you.” he says, with a slight laugh.

“Feels like i’m talking to a wall.” he teases, however you catch the glint of worry.

For a minute, you thought about telling him. You thought about spilling every thought that had been plaguing your mind since you realized that you were in love with him a few weeks back. You wanted to tell him you loved him. That you were in love with him.

You open your mouth to say something, but the words seem to catch in your throat, and tears start streaming down your face instead.

Not to sound dramatic, but Steve thought he could feel his heart breaking in his chest watching you, his best friend, breaking down beside him in his car. He wished he could wave a magic wand and take away all your hurt. Hell, he would even take all the hurt on himself if it meant he got to see you smile.

“What’s going on?” he asked you, “You know you’re my best friend, you can tell me anything.”

Steve hoped his words would reassure you, but instead you just sobbed harder.

You shook your head, and Steve figured that was you saying you didn’t want to talk about it, and he was right, partially, he just didn’t realize that it wasn’t just you not wanting to talk about it. He didn’t realize that the real reason you were shaking your head was because you didn’t want to be his best friend. You loved him, but not how best friends typically loved each other. You were in love with him.

You realized then, that that was all you would be. His best friend. You didn’t want to ruin your friendship, and you knew that if you told him how you felt, you definitely would, so you decided that it would be in everyone’s best interest to never let him find out.

Little did you know, those same fears swirled around in your best friend’s head as well.

“M’sorry, I promise I don’t mean to cry.” you tell him. “I’m just, i’m overwhelmed and confused.”

Steve caught the look that you were giving him, your pleading eyes begging him to not ask you what you were overwhelmed and confused by. As badly as he wanted to ask, he remembered all the times that you were there for him no questions asked, and he knew that as your best friend, that he owed you the same respect.

He settled with holding you in his arms while you cried into his chest. He whispered soft, reassuring words, not knowing that he was the reason you needed them.

Later that week, you’re sat by the counter, once again eating your pie, wondering whether your shift could go by any slower.

This time, it was just you and Steve sharing your shift, and at first it made you nervous knowing that Robin wouldn’t be there and you’d be left alone with Steve and your feelings for him, but it had been surprisingly going pretty well.

You noticed that Steve seemed tense as well, but after him brushing your questioning eye off, you decided not to bother him about it.

“What did that pie do to you?” Steve teases, noting the way you are stabbing your fork into the pie as if you have some vendetta against it.

“I’m bored.” you groan, dragging the word out. “I miss Robin.”

Steve brings his hand up to his chest, acting as though he was wounded. “Am I not enough for you?"

When you bark out a laugh, the corner of his lips twitch up into a smile as he gazes at you with a fond look that makes you feel like you’re about to vomit. Not out of disgust, but from the overwhelming feelings that he makes you feel. Vomiting is about the most accurate way to describe how it makes you feel, and you try not to imagine the look you’d receive from Robin if she heard that.

The door chimes, and with Steve being closer, he gets up to greet the customer. Just as he’s getting ready to ask how he can help, he pauses when he realizes that it’s the same guy who was in the store flirting with you the other day.

He clenches his jaw, remembering yours and Robins scolding that he needed to be better with his customer service, and grits out “Welcome to Family Video, how can I help?”

Just to Steve’s surprise, more like disappointment, the customer tells him that he was actually hoping to speak to you.

Hearing your name, you look up and smile when you see Matt, the customer from the other day. You get up and walk towards them, turning to Steve to tell him that you’ve got it from here. He begrudgingly leaves, but still stays in earshot.

“I’m just here to return this.” Matt says, setting the movie on the desk. You pick it up, and begin scanning it and clicking buttons on the computer.

“How’d you like it? You owe me that review you promised.”

“Well, i’ve actually spent the past couple days trying to think of the best way to tell you my thoughts, and I thought maybe we could discuss it over coffee?” he says, eyes hopeful.

You’re taken aback for a minute, struggling to remember the last time someone asked you out, and then wondering whether he meant as a date, or just as friends, but before you can think of something to say, Matt speaks again.

“I hope i’m not coming on to foreword or reading this wrong, I just think that you’re gorgeous and would love to take you on a date.” he sends you a shy smile.

“I, yeah, i’d like that.” you manage to sputter out, sharing Matt’s same shy smile. “I’m off tomorrow, but I work the rest of the week.” you tell him.

“How about noon? We could go to the cafe down the street if you’d like. Or anywhere else.”

“The cafe works. I’ll see you then.” You tell him, feeling giddy as a smile graces your face as you finish running through his return. Matt matches your smile, and waves before making his way out of the store.

You watch as he walks out the door and out of eyesight, and do a little happy dance, ignoring the fact that Steve is going to definitely make fun of you.

For a minute, the hopeless feeling that had settled over you because of Steve’s unshared feelings is forgotten, and you think that maybe won’t be as hard to get over him as you thought. Maybe you will find someone who likes you how you like Steve, and you’ll be able to stop falling for him.

“I thought you didn’t go on dates.” Steve says once you turn around, and the smile quickly falling off your face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Seeing the hurt look on your face, Steve quickly clarifies.

“You just always say that you’re more content staying single. That dating just causes unnecessary stress that you don’t have to have when you’re single.”

“I don’t know, I just changed my mind I guess.” you say, and Steve raises an eyebrow at you.

“What made you change your mind?” he questions.

“Why does it have to matter?” you say. “It just felt nice to have someone be interested in me.”

Steve accepts your answer, and you both continue to work in silence. You wonder why Steve doesn’t seem as happy for you as you expected, and it sends a pang through your chest.

The next day comes around fast, and after spending about an hour debating what to wear, noon finally comes around and you nervously step foot inside the cafe, despite the amount of times you’ve been here.

You glance around, and you spot Matt already sitting down at a table. You shyly walk over to him, suddenly uncomfortably aware of everything you do.

After the initial nervousness settles down and you both have ordered, conversation starts flowing easily, and you find that you and Matt have a lot more in common than you originally expected.

You feel comfortable around him, and after learning more and more about each other, you find yourselves talking to each other like you’ve known each other for years.

You like Matt, you really do, but despite how much you like him and how well you guys are getting on, a nagging feeling won’t leave you alone.

You know it’s wrong, but as you tell Matt about yourself, you can’t help but think about Steve, and how he already knows all this about you. Honestly, you think Steve knows more about you than you do.

Internally, you start connecting everything to Steve, and this realization suddenly starts making you feel both guilty and uncomfortable.

As the date starts to wrap itself up, you realize you need to be honest with him. Getting over Steve is apparent to be way more difficult than you anticipated, and you know it’s unfair to string Matt along when your heart is elsewhere.

You decide to just be upfront with him, telling him exactly as such, and Matt’s reaction is the exact opposite to what you expected.

He doesn’t seem upset, he just simply looks at you with understanding, and if anything, it makes you feel even more guilty.

“It’s okay, i’m just glad you were able to realize this and be upfront with me now. The heart wants what it wants, and I can’t blame you for that.” he tells you.

“I just feel so bad, I really thought i’d be able to do this, and I do really like you, but I just can’t.” you sigh, feeling disappointed in yourself.

“It’s that coworker of yours, right?” he asks, leaving you shocked.

“How did-“ you start to say, looking at him with bewilderment.

“I noticed how he looked at you when I came by the store, both times, I thought there might be something there but was just hoping I was wrong.” he tells you, and it just leaves you more confused.

He doesn’t look at you in any way, does he? Seemingly noticing your distress at this new information, Matt continues on.

“He looked like he was ready to have me banned from the store,” he says with a laugh. “it’s clear as day that he has feelings for you, and you feel the same way, so just tell him.” you continue looking at him with bewilderment, but this time for a different reason.

“This was not the direction I was expecting this to go in.” You say with a breathy laugh.

“I know, believe me,” he says with a laugh, “I know this is definitely not how either of us expected this to end up, but I still would like to at least be your friend. How does that sound to you?”

“I would like to be your friend as well, I meant what I said, I do really like you, I just feel really bad about this whole situation.” you tell him nervously.

“Don’t, I meant what I said as well, the heart wants what it wants. So, friends?” he says, offering you his hand for a handshake, and you laugh. You take his hand, and shake it.

“Friends sounds good.” you say with a smile.

“Now that we’re friends, i’m telling you this as a friend, tell him how you feel.” he says sternly.

“God, you sound like Robin. Don’t make me regret agreeing to be friends.” you say lightheartedly.

You both say your goodbyes, telling him that now that he has friend privileges you can snag him any good movies coming in that he requests, and he promises to stop by the store sometime soon.

Driving home, you start to feel a sense of clarity come over you. You think that maybe telling Steve isn’t a bad idea, Matt only saw Steve twice and could say with confidence that Steve had feelings for you, maybe he was right?

But what if he was wrong? What if Matt was wrong and you make a fool out of yourself and ruin your friendship?

You realize that your friendship would be ruined either way, because thinking about it, you don’t know if you have it in you anymore to keep having your heart broken. You either tell him, and risk him not feeling the same way and ruining your friendship, or not telling him and end up definitely ruining your friendship because you can’t handle just being his friend.

If you’re going to lose him either way, you figure you might as well just tell him. Now you really feel like you’re going to throw up.

The next day, you work the closing shift with once again just Steve, and the entire time leading up to it all you feel is dread. You even consider calling in sick and asking Robin to cover for you, but you push through it and find yourself walking through the staff doors, getting ready to start your shift.

You and Steve start working as you usually would, closing shift on Thursday's always being quiet, him making his regular comments and you once again sitting on your stool drinking your coffee and eating your pie.

Despite Steve being your best friend and you both having worked together without Robin many times, you both feel the uncomfortable shift in the air.

“How’d your, uh, date go?” Steve asks, internally cursing himself out.

“It went good.” you say, sounding unsure. Steve raises an eyebrow at you in question, and you clarify.

“It went good,” you say, sounding more sure of yourself. “We had a surprising amount of things in common, and the conversation came really easily. Honestly for a moment it felt like we had known each other for years.” you tell him with a smile on your face as you think back at yesterday.

“Oh, that’s- that’s good. You’ll probably be going out with him again?” Steve asks, and it may be you going crazy, or did he sound disappointed? Is it bad that that makes you feel happy?

“Yeah, we will, I think. Not on another date, though.” you tell him, paying close attention to how Steve reacts. When he keeps a calm composure, just looking confused, you think that maybe you were just crazy.

“We decided that we’d be better as friends.” you clarify.

“Oh, how come? You seem to really like him.” he asks, and you think that this might be your opportunity to tell him how you feel. You pause for a minute, trying to think of the best way to word what you are going to say next.

“I realized that my hearts," you pause, "elsewhere? I do really like him but I didn’t think it would be fair to string him along if I wasn’t fully in it.” you tell him carefully.

“Elsewhere? Like you have feelings for someone?” you nod.

“Why’d you agree to go out with him if you have feelings for someone else?”

“I don’t know, he seemed like a really good guy and I thought maybe i’d be able to get over my feelings but I was wrong.” you tell him, shamefully.

“It was nice having someone be interested in me." you begin to explain, "I figured since the person that I want to be won’t ever be interested in me, maybe it was time to move on. And it felt nice. Being in love with someone who only sees you as a friend sucks and for a minute I was able to forget about it. I don’t want to keep letting him break my heart again.” you explain.

Steve doesn’t say anything, he just looks at you as if you’re some difficult math question, and you feel yourself shrinking under his gaze.

“Who are you in love with?” he finally asks.

You open your mouth to respond, and once again, just like the time you were sat beside him in his car, you're unable to get any words out, and a tear slowly falls down your cheek instead.

You went over this conversation many times in your head, preparing how you were going to tell him, but now that it was happening, it all went right out the window.

Steve steps closer to you, and wipes the tear from your cheek, and the action makes you want to cry harder but you force yourself to keep your composure. You tell yourself all you have to do is get this over with, and then you can cry as much as you want.

“How do you know that he isn’t in love with you too? What makes you so certain?” Steve asks, figuring his first question was too difficult for you to answer.

“He flirts with other girls all the time. And I get friend zoned practically on a daily basis.” You manage to mumble.

“How do you know he isn’t doing what you were trying to do by going on that date? What if he thinks that you don’t like him back, and that’s why he does that?” Steve asks, and you wonder whether there’s more to what he’s asking. You chalk it up to him just wanting to make you feel better, and sigh.

“I don’t know whether this is just Robin getting to my head, but is the guy me?” Steve finally asks.

Your silence is enough of an answer, but then you finally nod your head in confirmation. “It’s okay though, one day I will stop falling in love with you and we can pretend this never happened, some day I’ll find someone who likes me like I like you and we can go back to normal.”

You honestly think at this point you’re more trying to reassure yourself than you are Steve. You reason that he’s the one who made you fall in love with him, so you’re allowed to try to reassure yourself.

“What if I don’t want you to?” he says, and your eyes go wide, thinking that he has to be messing with you.

“What if I don’t want you to stop falling in love with me? What if I don’t want to pretend like this never happened? What if I don’t want you to find someone else? Because you won’t need to, because I do like you like you like me.” he continues, and you shake your head, not believing him.

“Look at me.” he commands softly. Instead of doing what he asks, you stubbornly close your eyes and face your head down, scared to look at him. Scared that if you look at him you’ll see that he was joking and you’ll be stuck feeling humiliated.

Steve gently brings his hand under your chin and lifts it up so your head is facing him, but you refuse to open your eyes. When you hear him let out a little laugh, you feel glad that you didn’t look, fearing the worst.

“Hey, look at me, please.” he says, and his begging tone is what makes you finally peak your eyes open.

Steve’s close, closer than you realized, and his eyes are looking right into yours, and you don’t see any mocking or teasing looks in his eyes like you expected.

His eyes leave yours, slowly traveling down to your lips. “I can prove it to you if you don’t believe me.”

He looks back up at you, silently asking for permission, and all you’re able to say is a breathless “okay.”

He grins, and slowly leans in, allowing you time to change your mind, and when you don’t, he finally presses his lips against yours.

Your eyes flutter closed, and his hand that was under your chin comes up to softly cup your jaw, and suddenly all you feel is him.

At this point, the tears that you had trying so hard to hold in finally stream down your face, however this time for an entirely different reason. All the love that you had been suppressing down was finally released, the emotion pouring out of you as you kissed.

Steve pulls away, noticing your tears, and his eyes widen in a panic. When you respond with a laugh, he calms down and wipes your tears.

“I knew it,” he starts. “you do taste like coffee and pie.”

You’re both grinning, and he leans down and kisses you again. If you thought the first kiss was a lot, this one nearly knocks you off your feet with the force of passion that he kisses you with.

His hands move down to your waist, pulling you even closer and you let out a squeak of surprise. Your hands move on their own accord to grip at his collar, and the groan he lets out is nearly enough to make you faint.

This time you’re the one to pull away, feeling like you’re about to run out of air, and you both are left flushed and breathing heavily.

The bell on the door chimes, bringing you both out of your daze. Steve sighs and sets off to greet the customer, with a promise that this will be continued later, both of you with a giddy feeling you didn’t have at the start of your shift.

#Spotify #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington friends to lovers #steve harrington one shot #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #robin buckley #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst

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bluebellhairpin · 2 months ago

Text

Arthur Morgan X Fem!Reader

Summary: You have a reputation, and Arthur is sceptical. What was once scepticism soon turns to annoyance. Then, surprisingly admiration, and from that - something even more, but not all things are meant to be. (wc.5.9k)

Warnings: Guns. Making out. Arthur is insecure and a nervous wreak but hides it well. Sort of angst ending. Reader is fem body coded (pronouns used are she/her (probably), is referred to as 'wife' + 'woman'), and a bounty hunter.

Listening to: 'Wandering Star' by Lee Marvin - "Wheels are made for rolling, mules are made to pack. I've never seen a sight that didn't look better looking back."

Masterlist || AO3 link

Arthur could remember vividly each time he went out on a job with you.

You - a bounty hunter who occasionally crossed paths with the gang - with a rather bad reputation for things going wrong. Or at least from whatever stories others who’d joined you collecting bounties told. It took Arthur a while before he himself met you. Tales of your mishaps were all second hand, mostly from Sean - he often wouldn’t shut up about you for a few days after a job was done.

However, the other side of your coin came with a good reputation for getting hundreds worth of dollars in each haul from a job (either from a bounty or from something else on the side because the bounty went sour). That kind of reputation was something most in the gang, notably, did not have. Which meant no job with you, nor the idea to use you as a money bag, was ever turned down.

The first time Dutch had sent him to find you in need of money had him groaning down to his toes in want of literally any other job. (By then, Sean’s, the single most annoying person in camp, stories of how horrible you were, and the bullet wounds other’s returned with spoke for themselves, so Arthur was not looking forward to meeting you.) He found you off somewhere near Wallace Station, then you offered to take him on a job north of Valentine.

Off the bat you seemed nice enough despite the preceding reputation, so he agreed.

It sure as hell helped that you were the prettiest woman he’d laid eyes on since his heartbreak with Mary Linton. When you rode ahead of him he almost couldn’t take his eyes off you. From the way you did your hair, to the way your silhouette looked in the sunset - you could’ve made a fox forget it was chasing a rabbit.

In Arthur’s opinion, it all went superb - to a point. Arthur had no idea why the other’s made such a fuss about you. The ride up to the location was no trouble at all, in fact you asked him if he wanted anything from the Valentine general store before you’d even left the town, and stayed rather quiet since aside from some mandatory small-talk. It was like you knew he liked a peaceful ride when he was going to a job.

The two of you got to the job, some farm with one too many dogs still wandering around, and he instructed you to stay put while he went in to grab the bounty - some sleazy man who was on the run for messing with saloon workers one too many times. He said it twice, just to be safe.

“Stay here, stay hidden, wait until I come back unless I give you a signal.” You looked at him funny - in hindsight it was probably a look of disbelief - then asked him what the signal was. His stare was hard, but so was yours. Really, again with the gift of hindsight, he knew he should’ve questioned your look, but he didn’t - and it bit him in the ass. “You’ll know it when you see it.”

In fact it was all going great until he screwed up. Not you.

Figures.

Then the job lit up like a stray cigarette in a hay barn. The people in the house woke up, the guards woke up, the fucking chickens woke up. Bullets rained down like biblical hail and brimstone, and where were you? Arthur was stuck behind the barn, warding off shots as he made ones of his own, and past behind his enemies he saw you standing at the top of the road.

Your silhouette was hard to make out, but there you were - standing in the middle of the road with the moonlight behind you, one hand on your cocked hip and a cigarette setting a glow to your mouth in the other hand. He ducked back behind his cover, cursing Dutch and himself, and you - he clearly needed help and where were you?

He reloaded his gun, spending too much time uncharacteristically fumbling with the bullets and grumbling about how you’d gone on a smoke break, being useless while he was in trouble.

“Get on cowboy.” You said from right behind him - apparently he'd spent a long time cursing and reloading. He looked up and there you were, a jump of a fence away on your horse with Boadicea in tow.

“Where the hell have you been?” He asked, securing his weapons down so he could bolt over to the fence and climb onto his horse.

“Waiting for your ‘signal’ - which you still haven’t given me by the way.” You said as you looked over your shoulder at the sound of more gunshots.

“I could’ve used some help there, y’know.”

“Looks like you were doing just fine t’ me.”

“You are…” He hummed, shaking his head once in annoyance, nudging Boadicea into a trot.

“Hey, I brought you your horse and am currently performing a very clean getaway. No one's hurt, so no complaining yet.”

Yet?

Arthur didn’t know how much he liked your usage of that word. He felt his wariness was very justified - even with how you’d lulled him into a sense of false security.

“And if you’re gonna act like the big boss on a job which I gave you, you deserve getting your ass handed to you for a while. No sympathy from me.”

“Oh so that's what this is about, you wanted to wear the pants.”

“It’s not too late for me to shoot you and take all the money myself, don't sass me.” You said, hat catching in the wind as the cord caught around your throat. He watched as parts of your hair broke free from your face and he smiled in disbelief. The balls on you - he could only say one thing in reply.

“Yes ma’am.”

When you returned to Valentine, you told him to stick around. ‘Repay him for the trouble’ you’d said. By the time he’d come outside his hotel the next morning, you’d appeared from around a corner and handed him a small satchel full of cash.

Apparently you’d conned some wealthy gentlemen who were passing through the Valentine saloon and they’d left drunk in the early morning completely unaware of their empty pockets. Not to mention you’d returned to the same farm Arthur had run away from to collect the bounty yourself, and had handed the horse thief into the sheriff an hour earlier. When you mounted your horse and said goodbye, he found himself staring a little too long as you left.

Arthur ended up returning back to camp at noon with a few hundred dollars to donate to the camp box (and that was after he’d split it all with you). But an unwarranted feeling of needing to go on another job with you was also present on his person. He chalked it up to nothing more than curiosity - rightly so. He didn’t believe himself to be the smartest man in any room, but he was smart enough to figure out that you didn’t put forth much effort at that homestead, not compared to what you could’ve. Especially after what you’d done to ‘make it up to him’.

He’d told you to sit and wait, so that’s what you did even though you didn’t want to. He’d expected you to come to his aid when he got into trouble, but you didn’t. You were being petty - because of him - at the cost of his safety. It was rather ballsy of you to have so much confidence that nothing would actually happen to him while you were proving your point, but then again you’d only met him a day prior. And very clearly it wasn’t because you weren’t capable of helping - considering you did it on your own.

Teaching him a lesson at his expense wasn’t something you were particularly worried about, after all you wouldn’t exactly have been weeping over his death if he had been shot anyway.

Arthur next met you by mere chance. He’d been sent into Saint Denis with a few others to grab some supplies, all incognito-like, and had some time to kill before they all had to head back. Sean dragged him off to one of the Saloons, and who else did he recognise taking up space at the bar but you.

It’s not like he committed your back to memory on purpose during the time you spent together. He just had a knack for putting names to faces, and finding people in crowds. That's all.

He tapped the counter, dropping sufficient payment for a shot of whisky on the polished wood, and slid in the bar stool beside yours. He quickly dropped his hat onto his knee, ran a hand back through his hair as if that would make him more presentable.

“Fancy seein’ you here.” he said, capturing your attention. Your face morphed from mildly irritated to recognition, and your lips quirked up in amusement.

“Arthur Morgan?” you breathed.

“It’s the only name I got darlin’.” he said, and you clapped him on the shoulder, hand firm and stronger than he would’ve guessed. He was more surprised at how friendly you were, but maybe that was just what alcohol did to you.

“As I live and breathe, here I was thinkin’ I’d only ever see you again on wanted posters.” you mused, a pretty and sly smirk creeping onto your lips, “Say, you’d fetch a nice bounty over in Strawberry last I checked. Made me think I shoulda brought you in when I had the chance.”

“Hey now, no need to be so forward, at least buy me a drink first,” You laughed at his dry delivery, and he took a sip from his drink to push aside the thought of how nice the noise sounded coming from you.

“What’re you doing in Saint Denis? You don’t strike me as a ‘big city’ kind of guy.”

“Well I ain’t. Needed a few things. Needed to socialise the younguns.” He said, gesturing at the latter part to the red headed Irishman across the room who was talking up a working girl. “They can go feral if they don’t get proper human interaction often enough.”

Your eyes drew to the same place he gestured, and you hummed into your glass.

“Wish I could say I knew what you meant, but I don’t.” you said, scratching your jaw. Arthur found himself mirroring the action, and stopped as inconspicuously as possible. “Ain’t got no youngins myself to wrangle.”

“You’re lucky then.” he said, turning back to the bar as you sat for a few moments without a word passing. He noticed your glass was empty, but you were making no effort to get it refilled. “What’re you doing in the city then?” He bated, hoping you took a bite and gave him some more time in your company.

“Catching the late train to Annesburg.” you sighed, face turning sour as if it wasn’t something you were looking forward to. “Some man I’m after is makin’ himself hard to catch and word says he’s hiding out in some abandoned brothel near there. It’ll be my third time tryna pin him. Guys getting on my nerves.”

“Do you, uh,” he coughed, “Would you like a hand?”

You looked over at him, and he left the hairs on the back of his neck prickle at how you were looking both at him and right through him all at once.

“Your ‘youngun’ will handle without you for a few days?”

“Oh yeah, Sean doesn’t really need me, he can find trouble all on his own, no problem.”

“That’s not what I meant.” you chuckled.

“I know.” he said, downing the rest of his drink and fixing his hat back on his head. “What time’s the train leaving?”

You’d both collected your horses from the train carriage, and the sun had just started to rise. Arthur was tossing up as to whether he should help you onto your horse, but you’d already flung yourself onto your saddle by the time he worked up the courage to turn around to offer.

As you started to ride, he said your name, trying to strike up a conversation.

“How far away is this place?” He asked.

“‘Bout an hour or so south.” you said, flicking the rim of your hat back to look at the sky. You sniffed, and tipped your hat back down. “Should be there before the rain sets in.”

Arthur frowned, and nudged Boadicea into a stride next to yours as you made your way out of town.

“Sky’s clear, it won't rain for a long time yet.”

“Yes it will.” you smiled, “Sunrise says so.” He grunted, not willing to pursue the matter further, and let you ride a few paces ahead of him. He’d find out soon enough if you were just talking nonsense or not.

The ride, again, was quiet with the alcohol in your system having worn off on the train overnight. And you were correct about the rain. ‘The place is just up this hill.’ You’d said, and then a crack of thunder rumbled behind him. By the time you’d both reached the old caravan, the clouds had made way to a misty rain.

“You grab the door, and I’ll cover you.” you instructed, dismounting your horse. “The guy’s as fast as a rat and quiet as a snake. Keep your guard up.” He watched as you told him what to do - seeing you pack on yourself two revolvers and a shotgun.

“Sure this guy ain’t Houdini?” You tilted your head, confused.

“Whose ‘Houdini’?”

Arthur then remembered you probably hadn’t seen that same sideshow magician act he did - if you did that sort of thing at all. He wondered if you would like to.

“Doesn’t matter.”

Arthur quietly made his way up the stairs, past the poor soul who’d been left to rot on the chair beside the door, ready to open it and catch whoever this man was. He’d barely cracked the door open before you were there with both your revolvers raised, baring your teeth at whoever was inside.

You said the bounty was fast, but how quickly you’d managed to pin him with the aim of your gun had him wondering. If you were that fast, how fast was the guy you’d been chasing?

“Sit down. I won’t hesitate to put a few ounces of lead through your bastard skull if you don’t.” Arthur was almost tempted to take a seat himself, with your tone turning as deadly as it did - the only thing that stopped him was the fact that ‘bastard’ was a bastard he knew.

“I can assure you, madam, that my parents were very much married and in love when I was born. But please, can we talk about this -”

“- I’m done talkin’! We’ve had plenty of time to talk!” You barked.

“Trelawney?” Arthur asked, stepping into the caravan to see the Englishman there on the bed.

“Mr. Morgan!”

“You broke my nose! Twice! That warrant’s zero sympathy from me!” You said, then - and Arthur watched as it happened - your face morphed from clear anger to confusion, your arms going lax as you did so. “You know this guy?”

“Know him? I’ve had to save his sorry ass about ten times from bounty hunters like you.” Arthur said. Josiah scoffed, hands at his sides with his palms to the ceiling - he was ready to start smoothly talking his way out of the situation (again, no doubt) - but neither you nor Arthur were really paying him any attention anymore anyway.

“Did you know it was him here?”

“Naw, I swear I didn’t.” he replied, “Wouldn’t have let you pay for the train if I knew it wasn’t gonna be worth your trouble.”

“Oh, that’s rich,” you scoffed, holstering your guns and then placing your hands on your hips - they’d cocked to one side, and he had to internally slap himself to meet your eyes again. “That man’s been a bother of mine for weeks - I coulda been earning hundreds if it weren’t for chasing him all over the five closest states!”

“I have to applaud you there ma’am, I have not had a peaceful night’s rest since you’d been after me. You’re like Death himself. But if it’s money you’d like I do know a place that can make it worth your while.” Josiah said, now much louder and closer. His hands found both yours and Arthur’s shoulders - which you shrugged off very quickly with a glare to match. “Not hundreds, but thousands. You’d make the best pair to pull it off.”

“Does it include breaking your nose? Twice?” Josiah let out an awkward noise, laughing off your serious comment.

“I’m sure we can re-negotiate that in the future, for now though, shall we?” He gestured to the door. You sent a final look of uncertainty towards Arthur before leaving the caravan in a huff. “Quite the lady you have there, my friend.” Josiah said quietly into Arthur’s ear.

“Shove off Trelawney.” Arthur said, making his way out to you and your horses with Josiah in tow. “Did you really break her nose?”

“Twice.” he nodded.

“Bastard.”

You’d had a sour look plastered to your face the moment Josiah pointed you in the direction of a dress boutique. Hands were still fixed firmly on your hips above your guns, and your feet likewise looked like they were moving just as slowly despite Josiah pushing on your shoulder.

“No.” your head shook, “I’ll play an actress all you like, but I ain’t gettin’ stuffed into no fancy-pants puffed sleeved ball gown.”

“It doesn’t have to be a puffy dress, it just has to be a dress.” Josiah said.

Arthur stood a ways off, deciding it was safest to give you a wide berth, smoking a cigarette. He’d already been conned into a new suit - vest and pocket watch included. Apparently Josiah knew it was going to be easier to get Arthur to bend to his will, hence why he was corralled into a tailor’s store first.

You were proving to be much more of a challenge.

“I have dresses, I wear dresses - I don’t need a new one! -”

“- A nice dress.” Josiah interrupted. Your mouth stopped wide open, and slowly closed as he continued. “One without stains, or notably mended stitches - and with a proper hem!” Apparently that seemed to shut you up.

You cast a glance at Arthur, eyeing him up and down - if he had to guess, you were gauging how dressed-up he was and translating it to what that could mean for you. Josiah lent over, whispering something in your ear. He saw you visibly bristle, before sighing with a roll of your eyes.

“Fine,” you said, mumbling as you pressed your hat firmly on your head, “But the corset better be a good one.”

Now Arthur was wondering what Josiah had said to get you to give in.

Arthur thought you looked very pretty. Not that he would tell you.

The dress Josiah wrangled you into was fancy - but had no frills or puffs (not to Arthur’s untrained eye anyway), or lace and jewels sewn in. It was as basic as a party dress could get, yet you wore it well. Very well. Something about you made it look like it was a fancy dress. Apparently blue was your colour.

“Corset good?” he found himself asking without thinking. He wasn’t thinking about you in a corset, or just a corset, or without a corset. He wasn’t a pervert, he was just trying to make conversation and it was the first thing that popped into mind. Arthur could tell his internal struggle was making him stand awkwardly, but you, bless you, didn’t even seem to notice.

“It ain’t digging in anywhere,” you started, slipping a hand into the crook of Arthur’s elbow as you lent down to adjust something with your shoe. “I have no idea how but this Trelawney of yours knows how to pick ‘em out.”

Arthur felt himself bristle. It had been a long time since he’s had a woman on his arm, let alone when he and they were both dressed up so. If anyone walked passed they’d think you were a couple. Lovers, courting, married - the last one made Arthur’s brain completely stop and reset for a moment. But he was getting ahead of himself.

Aside from knowing you were a fantastic gunslinger, had a cool attitude, a fierce angry face, and the prettiest set of eyes he’d ever seen (lord above, he spent recent nights dreaming about your eyes), he barely knew you. The way you made him feel like he was twenty-something and untouched by heartbreak had to be coincidence - like he said it had been a while, and you were pretty, but you both had a job to do. He had no time to act all sweet on you.

Not when he had to pretend to be your husband.

“I have my ways of knowing,” Josiah said, appearing on your other side as you began walking down the street (he offered his arm for you to take also, but Arthur felt your hand grip his bicep tighter as you stuck your nose in the air - the grudge had not been let go yet), “I just plead you don’t ask how I do know.”

Arthur felt his head tilt, eye twitching in curiosity. “Are we still talking about corsets Trelawney?” he asked.

“Of course.” Josiah replied, unthinking, and you scoffed a laugh.

“Well then I think I know how you know.” you said, smiling slyly, “Because you can’t know how comfortable they’re supposed to be without trying one on.”

“They’re more comfortable than I thought.” Josiah said, adjusting his hat as his arms started flailing about in a flustered explanation. “They make a waistcoat sit very nicely under a jacket, and it was only once -”

“Trelawney,” you said, stopping the man’s babbling with one word, “Unless Arthur over here is completely enthralled by your tales of trying on women’s clothing, you don’t have to explain. I couldn’t care less what you’ve worn.”

“Alright, we shall go back to not knowing.” Trelawney said. He took a few steps ahead before stopping just before a corner. “The place is just up around the corner, you both know the plan?”

“We’re not stupid,” you mumbled, smoothing a hand down the front of your skirt.

“I know you aren’t dear, our friend here though -”

“- Hey, he’s saved your life once already today, be grateful and not make it twice.” you hissed. Josiah’s hand raised in surrender before he let out a hushed voice of agreement. Arthur looked down at you from the corner of his eye, a thread-bare smile on his face.

He wouldn’t have disagreed with Josiah, but it was nice to have someone say otherwise. Especially coming from you.

You began relaying the plan back to Josiah, the conman nodded along to every word. Arthur was just far enough along the path to be able to see around the corner, and his eyes laid on the location of your current job.

“And I’ll meet you both at this location.” Josiah said, handing over a folder piece of paper. Arthur turned back and looked over your shoulder to see there was an address written.

“This is a hotel.” you said. Arthur felt his heart skip a beat.

“Yes.” Josiah nodded, “I’ll have all your old clothes there waiting, and you can act all inconspicuous, and part ways in the morning.”

Before Arthur could protest, you were turned back toward the direction of the party you were going to be gate crashing, mumbling under your breath about how if this didn’t work out you were going to kill Josiah and forget the money all together. He couldn’t particularly blame you.

Arthur Morgan was not a social person. His idea of a home was a two room farmhouse in a valley that got cut off from civilization every winter.

This though? A mansion on one of Saint Denis most upper class streets, filled to the brim with the richest and most dolled-up of high society? This was basically a nightmare. The only thing that made it bearable was the never-ending flow of free drinks - and you.

Putting on a façade of Mr and Mrs Callahan wasn’t as bad as Arthur thought it was going to be. You sipped on champagne and kept your arm linked with his. Your warmth was comforting, grounding - and you seemed to know exactly what to do and how to talk. You introduced yourself like you belonged there, held small talk and smiled. If it weren’t for the death vice you kept on his forearm, he wouldn’t have pegged you as nervous at all. In fact having you around almost made him forget he was there to rob the place.

Apparently the homeowner had a safe full of stocks and bonds somewhere upstairs - bonds that could be fenced for thousands of dollars. The plan was to get in, mingle, sneak away and steal the bonds, return for the rest of the party, and then leave for the hotel. You seemed confident that it would work.

Arthur couldn’t help but feel like something somewhere was going to go wrong - as per the curse that seemed to befall your jobs.

Very slowly you socialized your way from the front door toward the back of the house, and then back toward the front entrance where the stairs were, tugging Arthur along the whole way. It could’ve been the alcohol, but he felt like he was in a daze. Following where you lead felt like the easiest thing ever, even in a place like this.

“How are we going to get upstairs?” he asked quietly, scanning the room. There was a lull in your socializing, and frankly there was a lull in the party too - like quiet before a storm. If there was ever a chance to rob the place, now would be it.

“What do people sneak away from parties for?” you whispered.

There was a sparkle in your eye when you looked up at him. Maybe it was the lighting. It made you look quite delicious. He wasn’t going to get distracted by your eyes though, as much as he wished he had the time to commit them to memory right that moment.

“Arthur?” The soft yet stern call of his name brought him back down to earth. What was your question again? Oh, that’s right. Why would a married man and woman sneak away somewhere private at a party?

The sudden thought of what you were implying to do with him - or more correctly, what you intended to be perceived to be doing with him - made him feel the need to loosen his collar.

When your hand slid down his arm to lock your fingers between his, he swore his very soul almost floated away. Tethered down by the warmth of your hand in his. It was embarrassing, how even pretending to sneak off with you for sex made him act like a lost puppy.

If only his wanted posters could see him now.

Somehow, no one paid you any mind as you led Arthur upstairs. For the sake of consistency, you pulled him into the nearest door - a bedroom. Just his luck. As if he needed to add any more fuel to his imaginings.

“What luck,” you said. His thoughts exactly. “Arthur, look.” He turned towards where you’d wandered. You were standing by a door, beyond it was what looked like an office.

“That’s probably where the safe is.” he mused, coming up behind you and thoughtlessly touching your waist to quietly guide you into the office.

“You start left, I’ll go right. We’ll meet in the middle, and check the desk last.” you instructed.

Arthur nodded, and quietly got to prodding around bookshelves. He looked in cupboards, and behind paintings. He got past the first wall and found nothing. The second wall though was where he found the safe - tucked snugly behind a collection of encyclopedias.

“Here.” he said over his shoulder, ushering you over. “Give me a few minutes, I’ll crack it open.” He felt you stand behind him as he played with the lock, keeping your ear out for signs of someone coming. God, you were so smart.

He felt the hem of your dress brush against his heel. Behind that hem was your ankles, your legs. You were so close. Arthur wondered what -

He let out a shaky breath, and the lock clicked open. He had to focus. Your competency couldn’t be that big of a distraction, but it was. You were smart, and so pretty, and you were leaning over his shoulder and grabbing the bonds, you smelt so nice.

“Here, you take these, put them in your boots. I’ve got the rest.” You pressed two thin wads of paper into his palms, then grabbed the rest of the bonds before pushing the safe closed.

Arthur stood after putting the bonds neatly into his boots, careful to have fixed his pant leg. When his eyes found his way up from the floor, he was met with the sight of your hands halfway down the front of your corset.

He swallowed, thickly, and looked towards the heavens. He was not going to think about how it would feel to have his hands there instead, pressed between taught fabric and the softness of your chest. He wasn’t!

He might later though.

Just then, there were the unmistakable sounds of people coming up the stairs. Arthur saw your eyes widen, and before he knew it you’d dragged him out of the office and back into the bedroom. The footsteps got louder. Closer.

They were definitely getting closer to the bedroom door.

He heard you close the office door behind you, and he looked across at you. There was something about your eyes now, something nervous. Were you nervous about getting caught? Nothing like that seemed to bother you before now, something else was wrong. You beat him to the punch before he could get the words out.

“Kiss me?” He’d never heard you sound so unsure before. Kissing him, Arthur Morgan, shouldn’t make you nervous. He wasn’t someone worth being nervous over, not unless he pointed a gun your way.

The footsteps came toward the door, and the next few moments seemed to slow right down.

You grabbed his arms, leant back against the door, and pulled him to you. ‘Kiss me,’ you said again, an order more than an ask. When your fingers brushed against his jaw on the way to settle in the hair at the back of his jacket collar, he found himself melting.

He kissed you, and you kissed back.

Arthur wasn’t unknown to the actions that befell men and women in the night, he’d partook often enough to be no stranger, but right then kissing you felt like the first time. He wasn’t a man in his late-thirties with ears of experience under his belt - this felt like back when he was young. Before Mary, and Eliza, and countless working women. His hands shook until they held tight to your waist, his heart felt like it was in his throat, and his cheeks and neck flushed faster than he had in years.

When your mouth opened to deepen the kiss, he had to refrain from groaning - however behind his eyelids his eyes did roll into the back of his skull. One of his hands took your cheek in his palm, cradling your head closer at a divine angle. His other arm wrapped around your lower back, holding you even closer with the entirety of his forearm.

By the time whoever it was outside opened the door, Arthur had completely forgotten they were the reason you both were kissing in the first place. It probably made the look of surprise on his face look more real.

When he pulled away from you, and you took his hand to sheepishly bypass the intruder - intruder would be the wrong work, the poor man probably owned the house - no one was any wiser to why you were really there.

Even Arthur had forgotten the reason his boots were uncomfortable was because there were hundreds of dollars worth of stocks and bonds stuffed in them. Your hold on his hand was firm, if he flattered himself he’d think you weren’t intending to let go. For a moment, as you both went back down the stairs, you threw a smile back over your shoulder at him.

The feeling that shot through his heart only meant one thing. He was in trouble now.

If someone asked him years from now when the last time he fell in love was, he’d say right then. Seeing you with that smile, eyes shining just for him, with your hair done nice, and dressed in a pretty blue dress - he fell in love.

Arthur Morgan fell in love hard.

The problem with you was that you never stayed in one place long.

That night after the party robbery, you’d made it back to the hotel - but you only stuck around long enough to change clothes. Arthur Morgan learnt very quickly that you were a wanderer. He supposed that was why you worked so well as a bounty hunter.

Once Arthur returned to camp after that night, he handed the bonds over to Hosea with a sour grunt, and retreated into his tent. He wasn’t upset about not getting to spend more time with you, nor was he pouting about not knowing when he’d see you again.

He did though spend the rest of the evening with his nose in his journal, sketching out your silhouette, and your eyes. How your dress looked. The smile you’d sent his way.

Arthur threw the book closed on his cot, sighing at how you’d consumed his mind.

He couldn’t tell if you’d be better or worse than Mary.

The next few weeks passed so slowly. The days dragged on. He took most chances he could to get out of camp, to make stops in town saloons and general stores - even sheriff offices - in hopes of catching a glimpse of you. He should be embarrassed, but he couldn’t get you out of his head. The feeling you gave him, the feeling that kiss gave him, he wanted to feel it again.

He felt like he was close to praying to god for the chance to run into you again. He felt that desperate. Then he felt like it was useless.

You were, from Arthur’s experience, the most memorable person he’d met. Everything about you he was able to recall so vividly. From the way you threatened Josiah, to how you’d almost fallen asleep on him on the train. You haunted him, and he was addicted to how you did it. Your attitude, and your beauty, it floored him. Arthur was none of those things.

Besides, he was a wanderer too. Neither of you were fixed in one place long, it wouldn’t work. You moved, and so did he. There was nothing he could do about it - just like how there was nothing he could do about how he felt about you.

Arthur could remember vividly each time he was on a job with you - because he could vividly remember you.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 x you

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