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[lostfracturess]

REMEMBER ME IN SUMMER — SATORU GOJO

pairing — one night stand!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary — six months ago, you left satoru gojo's apartment before sunrise, thinking you'd never see him again. now, trapped in a beach house for a weekend with mutual friends, you're forced to face the man who doesn't seem to remember that night—or does he? between shared walls, heated touches, and games of pretend, you're starting to think maybe one night wasn't enough after all. but in a house full of friends, some things are better left in the past… right?

word count — 9.5 k

genre/tags — beach house AU, summer romance, one night stand to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, tension, awkward reunions, friends gathering, miscommunication, beach vibes, satoru is a little menace in this one

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, alcohol consumption, all characters aged up (mid 20s), language

author's note — hi everyone ! this fic came out of nowhere, and i literally wrote it in three days, but i really love the idea and the summer vibes in this one, even tho i wrote it while it was literally snowing outside, but somewhere on earth it's summer rn, so why not post it lol. hope you enjoy this mess of a summer romance story as much as i enjoyed writing it ! <3 (credit/art)

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The last person you expected to see in Okinawa was Satoru Gojo.

Yet there he was, lounging on the deck of the beach house like he belonged there, white hair catching the sunlight as he laughed at something someone had said. Your heart tumbled over itself as memories of that night six months ago flooded back unbidden.

"You okay?" Maki nudged you with her elbow. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

More like the ghost of past bad decisions. "I'm fine," you managed, gripping your weekend bag tighter. "Wasn't expecting so many people."

The beach house was supposed to be a simple weekend getaway with close friends. But somewhere between planning and execution, it had turned into a "friends of friends" situation to fill the eight-bedroom house Okkotsu's family had offered.

"Yeah, Yuta's cousin's boyfriend invited some people to fill the space," Maki explained, completely unaware of your internal crisis. "That's Satoru over there, by the way. He's actually pretty fun once you get past the whole—" She gestured vaguely at all of him.

You wanted to laugh. Or cry. Maybe both. Because you were already very familiar with how "fun" Satoru Gojo could be.

Six months ago, you'd met him at a bar in Tokyo. He'd been charming and gorgeous, all easy smiles and playful banter. One drink had turned into several, flirting had turned into kissing, and kissing had turned into...

Well.

You'd slipped out of his apartment before dawn, leaving nothing but a lipstick stain on his collar and a dip in his pillow. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time. You weren't looking for anything serious, and someone like him definitely wasn't the settling down type.

Now, watching him chat lively with your friends like the universe's cruelest joke, you wondered if you should have at least left your number.

"Girl," Maki waved her hand in front of your face. "You sure you're okay?"

Before you could answer, Satoru looked up. His eyes met yours across the deck, and for a moment, your heart stopped. 

But there was no recognition in those sea blue eyes. No hint that he remembered the way you'd gasped his name in the dark, the way his hands had traced every inch of your skin, the way he'd whispered "stay" against your shoulder just before you'd fallen asleep.

He just smiled politely, the same smile he’s probably giving everyone else too, and went back to his conversation.

Right. Of course he didn't remember. You were probably just one in a long line of one-night stands for someone like him. The thought shouldn't hurt as much as it did.

"Come on," Maki said, tugging you towards the house. "Let's get settled in before the others arrive.”

Up close, the beach house was even more impressive. A sprawling three-story mansion of white stone and floor-to-ceiling windows that caught the afternoon light like rippling water, a wraparound veranda with a cozy sitting area led to a private path down to the beach, lined with swaying palms and colourful flowers.

Inside, the house opened into a huge room with soaring ceilings and an open floor plan that made the space feel endless. Ocean views followed you everywhere through the massive windows, and the whole place smelled of salt and lemon.

"The bedrooms are upstairs," Maki said as she led you up a floating staircase. "Most of them are on the second floor, but there are two master bedrooms on the third."

The universe, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor. Not only did you have to spend the weekend pretending you didn’t know how Satoru's brows draw together when he'd cum, but your room ended up right next to his—the two largest bedrooms on the top floor, sharing a wall and a connecting balcony. Of course.

Your room was bigger than your entire apartment in Tokyo, with a king-size bed draped in soft white linens. One wall was entirely glass, offering an unobstructed view of the ocean, while the other walls were decorated with pictures and minimalist art.

"My god, the view’s amazing!" Maki gushed and threw open the balcony doors. The sound of waves immediately filled the room, along with fresh, salty ocean air. "You can see the whole beach from here." 

But you were too busy staring at the wall next to you, where a door that must lead to Satoru's room was hidden behind a cupboard. You could hear muffled movement from his room, the sound of his laugh drifting through the wall that suddenly felt far too thin and your mind helpfully supplied memories of other sounds he could make, and you wondered if it was too late to fake some sudden illness and go home.

"Yeah," you said, dropping onto the edge of the bed. "Amazing."

Maki flopped down beside you, bouncing slightly on the plush mattress. "I know I've been here like five times already with Yuta, but it never gets old." She rolled onto her stomach and rested her chin on her hands. "Usually it's just us and his family, maybe a few cousins. This is the first time we're doing a friend group thing."

You tried to focus on her words instead of the sound of suitcases being wheeled into the room next door. "How long have you and Yuta been coming here?"

"Since we started dating three years ago. His family does this whole summer tradition thing." She smiled. "First time I came, I was so nervous I barely left the room. Now it feels like a second home." She sat up, crossing her legs. “And since his parents said we could use it this weekend, we thought why not invite friends.”

Through the wall, you could hear male voices chatting and laughing, followed by the sound of a door sliding open. Probably the balcony doors. Your shared balcony. Where he could walk past your windows at any time.

“You’re okay with this, right? Yuta’s friends are actually really fun once you get to know them. Especially Satoru, even tho he can be a pain in the ass.” Your stupid heart tumbled over itself once more at his name. "And single, if you're interested. I could—"

"No!" The word came out louder than intended, and you heard the conversation next door pause briefly. Lowering your voice, you added, "I mean, no thanks. Not really looking for anything right now."

Maki gave you a strange look. "You sure you're okay? You've been weird since we got here."

"Just tired from the drive," you lied and stood up. "Maybe I'll take a quick shower before everyone else arrives."

"Okay..." She didn't sound convinced but got up anyway. "I should go find Yuta anyway, make sure he's not letting Satoru destroy any of Yuta's mum's favourite vases."

You waited until she left before falling with your face first onto the bed with a groan. Perfect. Not only did you have to spend the weekend next door to your one night stand who might or might not remember you, but now your best friend was trying to set you up with him.

Through the wall, you heard Satoru laugh at something, the sound familiar enough to make your chest ache. 

It was going to be a very long weekend.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 

You'd barely finished unpacking when Yuji burst into your room without knocking. "Hey! We're setting up a net for beach volleyball. You in?"

"Ah, I don't really—"

"Everyone's playing!" He was already on his way back to the door. "Even Megumi, and you know how he is about fun."

Before you could form a proper excuse, Maki appeared behind him. "Come on, it'll be fun, the sun is out and it’s better than hiding up here all afternoon."

And that's how you found yourself trudging down to the beach, trying to convince yourself this was fine. Totally fine. Just a fun game of volleyball with friends. Nothing to worry about.

But then the boys started stripping off their shirts. It was like watching some ridiculous scene out of Top Gun as they all shed their shirt in the afternoon heat. But it was Satoru who made your brain go silent completely. 

He pulled his shirt off, and suddenly you were having vivid flashbacks to exactly how that toned chest felt under your hands. The sun caught his hair like a halo, and when he stretched his arms over his head, the muscles in his back shifted in ways that should not make your knees so weak, but here you were, rooted to the spot, your pulse racing as if it had a mind of its own.

"You're staring," Maki whispered next to you.

"I'm not," you said, even though you definitely were. How could you not? It was like someone had taken every beach volleyball scene from every summer movie ever and combined them into one ridiculous moment.

Teams were forming, and with an uneven number, you volunteered to sit this round out. Not that you were particularly eager to participate in the first place. You were perfectly happy watching from the safety of your beach towel, where the risk of accidentally brushing against Satoru's unnecessarily perfect body was thankfully minimized.

The game started, and it quickly became clear that everyone was taking it way too seriously, as Satoru and Yuji seemed to be in some sort of competition to see who could spike the ball more impressively. 

"Show off," you muttered to yourself as Satoru delivered a rather dramatic jump serve, the ball landing dangerously close to your foot. But he must have heard you, because he caught your eye with a wink that made your stomach flutter. "Like what you see?"

"I've seen better," you said before you could stop yourself.

His eyebrows shot up and a slow smile spread across his face. "Have you now?"

Oh god. Were you flirting? This was definitely flirting. You needed to stop staring at the way sweat was making his skin glisten and focus on... literally anything else.

"Pay attention!" Nobara yelled, and Satoru barely managed to dodge the ball she'd spiked directly at his head.

The game continued, growing more competitive with each round. You had to admit, it was entertaining watching your friends become more and more dramatic with each point. One of Yuta’s cousins and Yuji had some sort of rivalry going on, while Maki and Nobara were trash-talking each other.

But it was Satoru who kept drawing your attention. The way he moved was almost unfair and you found yourself following the drops of sweat as they made their way down his neck, remembering how that skin had tasted under your tongue.

"Incoming!"

You looked up just in time to see the volleyball heading straight for your face. Before you could react, Satoru dove in front of you and caught the ball just inches from your nose. The movement sent him sprawling across your legs, his face entirely too close to yours.

You blinked at him for a few moments, then whispered, "Thank you.” But the words came out too soft, almost like they had that night in Tokyo when he'd helped you into a taxi and then convinced you not to take it and instead come home with him.

Time seemed to slow, the crashing waves and voices of the others fading into white noise as Satoru's eyes met yours. For a moment, something flickered in those blue depths—a flash of recognition, perhaps even remembrance. 

His breath caught, barely noticeable, and his hand on your leg tightened ever so slightly. You watched his eyes, saw the exact moment his gaze dropped to your lips, and suddenly you were back in that Tokyo bar, both of you caught in that same magnetic pull.

"You're welcome," he said, his voice so low that only you could hear it. There was something in his tone, a hint of question, like he was trying to place a hazy dream. His thumb brushed against your skin, possibly by accident, possibly not, sending shivers up your spine.

The moment stretched, taut as a bowstring, thick with shared memories—memories you weren't even sure he had. Then someone yelled "Dinner!" from the direction of the house, and the spell broke.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The sun was setting by the time everyone had showered and gathered around the huge dining table on the deck. Fairy lights twinkled overhead and the sound of the waves could be heard in the background as the chaos of fifteen people trying to organize a meal unfolded.

You'd taken extra care getting ready, telling yourself it was just because of the salt and sand, not because of the way Satoru had looked at you on the beach. You'd chosen a light summer dress that happened to be the exact shade of blue as his eyes—pure coincidence, of course—and had let your hair dry naturally in the sea breeze.

Yuta ended up ordering way too much from the local seafood restaurant, you concluded as you surveyed the spread of food on the table. 

You ended up squeezed between Maki and Megumi, which should have been a relief. Instead, you found yourself very aware of Satoru sitting directly across from you, his hair still slightly damp from his shower, wearing a loose white linen shirt that he should really button up and stop teasing the entire table with glimpses of his toned chest.

"Pass the crab?" he asked, and when you handed him the plate, your fingers brushed. The contact sent a shiver through you, and you could have sworn you saw his breath catch. But then he was turning to laugh at something Yuji said, and you were left wondering if you'd imagined the whole thing.

"—and then he just fell face first right into the sand!" Yuji was saying, gesturing wildly with his chopsticks. "You should have seen it!"

"We were all there, literally two hours ago," Megumi deadpanned.

"The game was rigged anyway," Nobara said, reaching for another plate of grilled shrimp. "You can't put Mr. Perfect over here on a team and expect it to be fair." She jerked her thumb in Satoru's direction.

"What can you do?" Satoru said, his eyebrows knitted together, but a grin played on his lips. "I just happen to be naturally gifted." And then his eyes caught yours once more across the table. 

Heat crept up the back of your neck as you remembered how he'd felt when he'd sprawled across your legs, his skin sun warm and slightly sandy. How his touch had lingered just a fraction too long to be casual. 

Something had changed in his expression, so subtle that anyone else might have missed it. But you'd spent hours that night memorizing his faces. His smirk when he had you right on the edge, his soft smile when you were trembling beneath him, the way his eyes darkened just before he—

Maki snorted. "Yeah, sure." And you looked over at her, breaking the eye contact before you could do something stupid like climb across the table and find out if he tasted as good as you remembered.

When the dinner was over, Nobara suggested to play drinking games, truth or dare to be specific, to which "What are we, fifteen?" Megumi commented but Maki already chimed in with "Never ever I ever" and so it was decided.

Your stomach dropped. The last thing you needed was a drinking game where people confessed their secrets. Especially with the way Satoru kept looking at you, like he was one memory away from connecting dots you really didn't want connected.

"I think I'll pass," you said, pushing your plate away. "The sun really did take it out of me."

You gathered your plates and the sound of the others setting up their drinking game followed you into the kitchen—Yuji's voice carrying over everyone else's as he argued about rules, Nobara shouting something about "no questions about exes," and Megumi's long drawn out sighs.

A salty ocean breeze swept into the kitchen through the open wall of windows overlooking the water as you rinsed your plate. "You know," a voice came from behind you, making you jump, "I was starting to think you hate me."

Your heart skipped a beat. You didn't need to turn around to know it was Satoru—would recognize that voice anywhere, had spent months trying to forget how it sounded when it was rough after he’d cum. But you turned anyway, finding him leaning against the doorframe and the kitchen suddenly felt so much smaller. 

"What?" The word came out embarrassingly breathless.

"Let me rephrase, for someone who doesn't hate me, you're doing an impressive job of avoiding me."

"I'm not avoiding you.” You turned back to the sink. "I'm doing dishes."

"Sure. The dishes." His voice got closer, and you could feel the heat of him just behind you. "Though I have to wonder why someone would work so hard to avoid someone they've never met before."

Your hands stilled under the running water. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You've barely looked at me all day." He was close enough now that you could smell his perfume that had lingered on your clothes for days after that night. "Want to tell me what I did to deserve the cold shoulder? Because usually, I at least remember if I've pissed someone off."

Your heart pounded so loudly you were sure he could hear it, but at the same time the irony of his words made you want to laugh. "You haven't done anything," you said, which was technically true. He hadn't done anything wrong. Except maybe be too good in bed and then forget about it entirely.

"No?" His voice dropped lower, and you could feel his breath on your neck. "Then why—" He cut himself off. "Wait. Have we met before?"

You spun around, hands dripping water onto the floor. The motion brought you chest to chest with him, trapped between his body and the counter. "No," you said, too quickly, way too quickly. "Definitely not."

"You sure about that? Because you seem familiar—"

"Must just have one of those faces."

He moved closer still, one hand braced on the counter beside your hip, effectively caging you in. "Is that so? Because I’m sure I’d remember a pretty one like yours." You felt your breath catch in your throat, every nerve in your body screaming. He was going to kiss you, wasn't he? You should probably do something. Like move. Or breathe.

But then he simply stepped back, his smile widening. "Sorry. Must have mistaken you for someone else,” he said and the loss of his warmth felt like whiplash, leaving you cold despite the summer heat that still lingered in the air. You watched him retreat towards the door, casual as anything, like he hadn't just turned your world sideways.

Through the open door, laughter spilled in from the deck, breaking the spell that had held you captive. Satoru paused in the doorway for a moment, silhouetted against the warm light from outside, before disappearing back into the noise of your friends.

You stayed at the sink, trying to convince yourself that the heat in your cheeks was just from the summer air and ignoring the way your heart refused to settle in your chest. What had just happened? You had no idea. But one thing was painfully certain.

This weekend was going to be a long one.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Next morning, you decided to get up early and have your coffee on the beach before anyone else was awake. Sleep had been hard to come by anyway, with too many thoughts of certain one night stands keeping your mind racing. 

Dawn was just beginning to break over the horizon, painting the sky in orange and gold watercolours and the ocean stretched out before you, quiet and calm, each small wave catching the early light like diamonds.

You'd wrapped yourself in an oversized cardigan against the morning chill, bare feet buried in sand that was still cool from the night before. And of course, because the universe hated you, that's when Satoru appeared.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, settling into the sand beside you without invitation.

You clutched your coffee mug tighter. "Something like that."

"Yeah, me neither." He stretched his long legs out in front of him, and you definitely didn't notice how his shorts rode up slightly, definitely weren't thinking about how those thighs had felt under your hands. "Keep having these weird dreams."

"Oh?"

"Mmm." As he turned to look at you, the rising sun painted his profile gold, catching his eyelashes. There was something different about him in this light — softer somehow, more like the man who'd asked you to stay than the one who'd cornered you in the kitchen last night. "About a girl in a black dress. Red lipstick. The most amazing laugh I've ever heard."

Your heart stopped.

"Funny thing is," he continued casually, "I can never quite see her face in the dreams. But I remember how she tasted. How she felt pinned beneath me. How she clenching around my fingers. How she said my name when she—"

"Stop," you whispered.

"Why?" His voice was softer now. "Because you don't want to talk about that night? Or because you thought I wouldn't remember?"

You stared at the ocean, unable to meet his gaze. "You didn't seem to yesterday."

"Don’t be stupid. I recognized you the moment you walked into the beach house."

Your coffee nearly slipped from your hands. "What?"

"Did you really think I wouldn't remember the girl who stole my favourite shirt on her way out the door?"

Heat flooded your cheeks, you totally forgotten about the shirt. "Then yesterday, in the kitchen—"

"I wanted to see how long you'd keep pretending." He smiled, the bastard had the audacity to smile at you when he revealed that he was playing you the whole time. "You're cute when you're nervous, you know that?”

"You're mocking me."

"Mocking you?" His eyebrows rose. Then he leaned closer to you, but you still refused to look at him. "I spent six months trying to find the girl with the kind of laugh that makes you feel drunk just hearing it, who left before I could ask for her number—" 

"It was just one night," you interrupted.

"Was it? Because I distinctly remember asking you to stay."

"I couldn't."

"Couldn't? Or wouldn't?"

You finally met his gaze fully, and immediately wished you hadn't. Because he was looking at you the same way he had that night. He was enjoying this, wasn't he? Playing with you, teasing you, making you feel like a flustered schoolgirl. 

"Does it matter?" you asked.

"You're really a bit slow, aren't you?"

You wanted to protest, to tell him exactly what you thought of his arrogant everything, but then Maki's voice carried across the beach, "Breakfast! Come and get it before Yuji eats everything!"

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The breakfast table was just as chaotic as the dinner the night before. Fifteen people crammed around the table had that effect, especially with Yuji already piling his plate high with pancakes while Nobara complained about him taking too many. 

You'd barely settled into an empty chair when Satoru slid into the seat next to you, as if he hadn't just admitted that he'd been playing jokes on you the whole day before. 

"Can you pass me the syrup?" he asked innocently, but there was nothing innocent about the way his thigh pressed against yours under the table. 

You handed him the bottle without looking at him, trying to focus on pouring your coffee without spilling it everywhere. Which was made all the more difficult when his hand found your knee under the table.

"So what's everyone's plans for today?" Maki asked, passing around a plate of fresh fruit.

You tried to concentrate on the conversation, you really did. But Satoru's hand was inching higher up your thigh, and your brain was shorted out. You kicked him under the table, aiming for his shin.

He didn't even flinch, just smiled wider and continued whatever conversation he was having with Megumi about later activities, all while his fingers danced along the hem of your shorts. You felt a sudden surge of heat, definitely not from the summer sun.

"You okay?" Nobara asked suddenly. "You look a bit flushed."

"Fine!" Your voice came out higher than intended as Satoru's fingers skimmed just slightly under the edge of your shorts. "Just... hot."

"It is pretty warm this morning," Satoru agreed, his tone perfectly pleasant even as his thumb pressed into that sensitive spot on your inner thigh that he somehow remembered. The bastard. You kicked him again, harder this time.

"Did someone just kick the table?" Maki looked around suspiciously.

"Must have been the wind," you said stupidly.

You grabbed his wrist under the table, intending to push his hand away, but he just interlaced his fingers with yours and kept them there on your thigh. It was like he was asserting dominance, staking his claim, and you were suddenly trapped.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay?" Yuji asked through a mouthful of pancakes. "You're acting weird."

"Totally fine," you managed. "Just didn't sleep well."

"Hmm, me neither," Satoru chimed in, his voice all false innocence. "Must be all these weird dreams I keep having." You dug your nails into his hand in warning, but he just squeezed your hand in response, his grip tightening.

"Dreams?" Nobara asked.

"Oh, you know," Satoru began thoughtfully, "the kind that keep you up all night, thinking about... things that got away."

You were going to murder him. Slowly. Possibly with the butter knife you were currently gripping way too tight.

"That's... weirdly poetic for you," Maki said, raising an eyebrow.

"You wouldn't want to know,” he replied, and you felt his fingers inch just slightly higher once more, making you jump and bang your knee on the table.

"Jesus, what is wrong with you two this morning?" Nobara asked, looking between you and Satoru.

Under the table, you finally managed to grab his hand in yours and hold it still. But that backfired when he started playing with your fingers instead, his thumb brushing across your knuckles in a way that made you gasp. You definitely wanted to kill him. Right after you figured out how to breathe normally again.

"So, beach day? I wanna go snorkelling," Yuji said, thankfully drawing attention away from whatever was going on under the table, and everyone agreed. JJust then, Satoru freed his hand from yours and placed it back on your knee before trailing it up your thigh. 

Okay, nope this had to end now.

"I need more coffee," you announced abruptly, standing up so fast your chair scraped against the deck.

"I'll help," Satoru offered, already rising.

"No!" The word came out too sharp, making everyone look at you strangely. "I mean, I'm good. Thanks."

You practically fled into the kitchen, your skin still tingling where he'd touched you. Through the window, you could see him chatting with the others, looking completely unaffected while you were here trying to remember how to make your heart beat normally.

When is this weekend going to end?

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

"You sure you're okay?" Maki asked, swimming up beside you. "You've been weird all morning. Is the sun too much?"

"I'm fine," you said for what felt like the hundredth time today. "I’m not used to be around so many people."

The water was crystal clear, stretching out in various shades of blue that seemed to go on forever. Everyone had eagerly jumped into snorkeling, with Yuji and Nobara already in a heated competition about who could spot the most fish.

You adjusted your mask for the tenth time, trying to focus on anything except how good Satoru looked in just swim shorts. He was a few meters away, the sunlight catching the droplets of water that clung to his ridiculously toned shoulders.

My God. You needed distance. You needed space to breathe, to think, to do anything other than stare at him.

"If you say so." Maki didn't look convinced. "But tell me if something’s bothering you, okay?"

If only she knew. "Sure."

"Guys, come look at this!" Yuji called from where he was floating near some corals. "Rainbow fish!" 

Everyone swam over to where he was pointing, and you had to admit, the sight was beautiful. Countless colourful fish swam through the coral, creating a vibrant palette under the water.

You followed the fish as a sudden pressure against your calf made you flinch. Satoru. He had brushed against your leg. It could have been an accident, a mere consequence of the crowded water, but somehow, it felt like anything but. You knew better. Nothing about Satoru was ever accidental.

You drifted slightly away from the group, desperately needing to put some distance between yourself and Satoru. The vibrant corals blurred into streaks of colour as you swam further from the group, the shouts of Yuji and Nobara fading.

The water a bit away from them was deeper, a darker shade of blue. As you peered down, you noticed the sandy ground was dotted with small stones, and a different kind of life seemed to thrive here. Sea anemones swayed gently in the current, and schools of silver fish, smaller than the ones near the reef, darted in and out of the anemones.

You floated on your back for a moment, gazing up at the sky, a vast expanse of pale blue flecked with fluffy white clouds as the sun warmed your face. It was so peaceful, and you were happy for the small pause amidst the chaos of the house.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

You startled at Satoru's voice right behind you, nearly inhaling water through your snorkel. He'd somehow managed to swim up without you noticing, and now he was close enough that his arm brushed yours in the water.

"What are you doing?" you hissed, pulling your snorkel out.

"I know a better spot.” He nodded towards a more secluded area around the curve of the beach. "If you're interested."

You glanced back at the others, but they were all absorbed in whatever Yuji had found. "I don't think—"

"Come on," he said, already swimming away. "Don't you trust me?"

"Not even a little bit." But found yourself following him anyway.

He led you around a small outcropping of rocks, the current tugging gently at your fins, to a quieter part of the reef. His hand on your arm gently guided you through the water. The water here was somehow even clearer, as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a breathtaking underwater scenery with colourful coral formations that created a labyrinth of archways and caverns with small fish swimming in between.

"How did you—"

"I came here earlier this morning," he said, treading water close to you. "While you were pretending to ignore me after breakfast."

"I wasn't—" You cut yourself off as he dove under the surface, the sunlight playing across his back as he swam deeper.

You followed him down, your breath taken away by the sight. This part of the reef was like something out of a documentary. Swarms of tropical fish swirled around you in ribbons of colour, and the coral itself seemed to shine in the filtered sunlight.

When you surfaced, Satoru was watching you with an annoyingly knowing smile. "Worth following me?"

"It's alright," you said, trying to sound unimpressed even though you were anything but.

He laughed. "You're still trying to play hard to get?"

"I'm not playing anything."

"No?" He swam closer, close enough that you could see droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes. "Then why did you follow me here?"

"To see the fish.”

"The fish." His voice was amused. "Sure. That's why you've been watching me all morning?"

"I have not—"

"You know," he cut you off, moving even closer, his body brushing against yours in the water. "You're pretty when you get all flustered. Just like that night in Tokyo. Same flush you had when I made you cum three times.”

Ha? Had he been keeping count or what? You frantically tried to replay that night in your head — there was the first time against his apartment door, then on the kitchen counter, and... oh god, he was right. The bastard had been counting. The smirk on his face told you he knew exactly what you were thinking about.

You splashed water at him. "We are not talking about Tokyo."

He wiped water from his face, grinning. "No? Should we talk about this morning instead? About how you nearly jumped out of your skin when I touched your—"

You dunked him mid-sentence.

He came up spluttering, pushing wet hair from his eyes. "Okay, I probably deserved that."

"You definitely deserved that."

But he laughed, and despite yourself, you found yourself laughing too. There was something infectious about him, something that made it hard to keep your walls up, dissolving your defenses with unnerving ease, like mist beneath the morning sun.

"We should head back," you said finally. "Before they come looking for us."

"Probably," he agreed, but made no move to leave. Instead, he floated closer, until his chest pressed against yours. "Or we could stay here a bit longer. I could remind you of all the other ways I can make you wet."

Heat flooded your body. "Satoru..."

"Yes?" His hands found your waist under the water, pulling you flush against him. One thigh slipped between yours, and you had to bite back a gasp at the friction. "You know, I still remember exactly how you sound when you're trying not to moan my name."

"We can't." But your body betrayed you, arching into his touch as his fingers skimmed along your ribs, dangerously close to your breast.

"Can't?" His lips ghosted over your lips, his thumb tracing circles on your hip under the water in a way that made you think of how those fingers had felt inside you. "Or are you afraid you won't be able to keep quiet this time?"

Before you could answer, Nobara's voice carried across the water. "Where did you guys go?"

You pushed away from him quickly, already swimming back towards the group. "Coming!"

"This isn't over," he called after you, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

"It never started!" you shot back, but you were smiling too.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Satoru spent the rest of the afternoon driving you absolutely insane.

After snorkeling, he'd positioned his beach towel suspiciously close to yours, spending an unnecessary amount of time applying sunscreen to his chest and arms. His movements were deliberately slow, borderline pornographic, fingers sliding over muscle in a way that had you remembering exactly how those muscles had felt flexing under your tongue. 

You knew without a doubt he was putting on a show for you—every movement a reminder of how those arms had looked braced above you as he'd fucked you against his apartment door, how they'd felt pinning your wrists to his sheets.

During lunch, he'd somehow ended up next to you again, his bare thigh pressed hot against yours under the table like this morning had taught him nothing. Except this time, his hand didn't just rest on your knee. It spent the entire meal tracing patterns up your thigh, fingertips dancing dangerous close to where you'd been aching for him.

Your breath caught every time his hand "accidentally" slipped under the hem of your shorts, remembering how those fingers had curled inside you, how they'd made you beg.

The afternoon beach volleyball rematch was even worse. He kept finding excuses to touch you—steadying you with a hand on your waist when you stumbled in the sand (the same way he'd gripped your hips while taking you from behind), reaching around you to grab the ball (his breath hot on your neck like when he'd whispered how good you felt around him), his chest pressing against your back, closer than needed (making you remember how it felt to be pressed between him and that apartment door).

But dinner? Dinner was pure torture.

He'd shown up freshly showered, hair still damp and tousled in that way that made your fingers itch to grab it (like you had when he was between your thighs), wearing a dark blue linen shirt that he hadn't bothered to button properly once more and spent the entire meal finding new ways to make you squirm.

He'd catch your eye across the table and slowly lick sauce off his thumb, making you remember exactly how that tongue had felt when he'd spread you open. When passing dishes, his fingers would brush against yours unnecessarily long, making you shiver. At one point, he'd stretched his arms above his head, his shirt riding up to reveal his lower abs that had you gripping your fork so hard your knuckles turned white.

He knew exactly what he was doing, too—you could tell by the smug look on his face throughout the whole dinner. 

Thankfully, no one else seemed to notice anything amiss. They were all too busy with their own conversations, completely oblivious to the way he was systematically dismantling your sanity with nothing more than glances and touches.

Every time you thought you'd gotten yourself under control, he'd do something else — run his fingers through his hair the same way he had when you'd been on your knees in front of him, or bite his lip in a way that had you crossing your legs under the table. By dessert, you were a mess of sexual frustration and murderous impulses. 

He was enjoying this, the bastard. Testing your control, seeing how far he could push before you broke. And the most infuriating part? 

It was working. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

After dinner, everyone wandered into the living room in various states of food induced laziness. You'd barely managed to claim a corner of the big couch when Nobara disappeared into the kitchen, returning with an armful of wine bottles and a certain look in her eye that spelled trouble.

"No one move," she announced, setting the bottles on the coffee table. "I have an idea."

"Your ideas usually end with someone crying," Megumi commented from his spot on the floor.

"Or arrested," Maki added helpfully.

"Or both," you muttered, trying to ignore how Satoru had somehow appeared in the armchair closest to your corner of the couch. He'd rolled up his sleeves during dinner, forearms on full display, and you were having a hard time not staring at his fingers. Fingers that you knew from experience felt so good in your mouth to keep you from—

"Never have I ever!" Nobara's voice cut through your dangerous train of thought. A collective groan rose from the group.

"Not again," Megumi said, already trying to get up.

"Sit your ass down," Nobara commanded, pushing him back down. "We're bonding."

"We bonded plenty last night," you Yuta tried, but Nobara was having none of it and before you knew it, everyone agreed.

"Okay, I'll start easy," Yuji said, clearly excited despite his earlier protests. "Never have I ever cheated on a test."

Several people drank, including Satoru—and you, okay let’s be real. 

The questions started innocent enough. Never have I ever broken a bone. Never have I ever been arrested. Never have I ever dyed my hair. But as the wine flowed, the questions got progressively more suggestive.

"Never have I ever kissed someone of the same gender," Maki said, and half the circle drank. "Never have I ever faked it," was Nobara's contribution, and several people groaned but drank.

You were starting to feel a bit hazy, the wine making everything feel warm and soft around the edges. Which was dangerous, because Satoru kept looking at you like he was remembering exactly how you'd sounded that night when you definitely hadn't been faking anything.

"Never have I ever," one of Yuta’s cousins announced then, "had sex with someone in this room." For a moment, no one moved. Then Yuta and Maki drank, of course. And then Satoru raised his own glass slowly and took a long sip.

"Who?" Nobara shrieked, looking around the circle. "Satoru just drank, so someone else here has to—" Her gaze swept over everyone suspiciously.

"Someone's lying," Maki sang, already tipsy enough to find this hilarious. "Come on, fess up!"

You kept your face carefully neutral, even as you felt Satoru's eyes burning into you. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Not this time.

"Maybe it was before any of us knew each other," Yuji suggested, but Nobara shook her head.

"No way. Look at his face!" She pointed accusingly at Satoru. "He's got that look. You know, that 'I know something you don't know' look."

Satoru just smiled lazily from his armchair, swirling the wine in his glass. "Maybe I just like keeping you all guessing."

"You're a dumbass," Nobara said, but the group's attention was already shifting as Yuji launched into the next question, something about falling asleep at work.

You released a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, but made the mistake of glancing at Satoru and he gave you a look that sent a shiver of heat through you over his wine glass. 

God, you were going to murder him. Slowly. Painfully. Preferably with the very wine glass he was currently smirking into. 

Who did he think he was, just casually drinking like that, nearly exposing everything? He could have at least warned you, given you some sign he was about to blow up your secret. But no, he'd just taken that deliberate sip, probably getting hard on watching you squirm as you tried to keep your poker face. 

That sick bastard.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Sleep was impossible. You'd been tossing and turning for hours, replaying the day's events in your mind—from that moment in the ocean to his deliberate almost-reveal during the game. The walls of this fancy beach house seemed paper thin at night, every small sound amplified in the darkness.

That's how you heard his door open around 2 AM, followed by quiet footsteps heading downstairs.

You waited a few minutes, telling yourself you were just thirsty, that going downstairs for water had nothing to do with knowing he was maybe down there. The wooden steps creaked softly under your bare feet as you made your way down.

Silvery moonlight streamed through the massive windows, creating silver patterns on the marble countertops of the kitchen. Satoru stood at the island, drinking water from a glass, looking unfairly handsome in just sleep shorts and a wrinkled t-shirt.

"Couldn't sleep?" he whispered when he spotted you.

"What's your game, Satoru?" You kept your voice equally low, padding closer. "That thing earlier? During never have I ever?"

"Game? I'm not the one who was afraid of drinking".

"Because unlike you, I don't feel the need to announce our business to everyone."

He set his glass down, turning to face you fully. "Our business? So you admit there's something to announce?"

"That's not—" You caught yourself before your voice could rise. "What are you trying to achieve here? With all the—" you gestured vaguely, "touching and teasing and almost exposing everything?"

He stepped closer, and suddenly the kitchen felt way too small, even though it was like three times the size of your Tokyo apartment. "Maybe I just want everyone to know that night wasn't as casual for me as you seem to think it was."

You felt the weight of his words settle in the quiet kitchen, heavy with meaning you weren't prepared to unpack while moonlight caught his features in a way that made him look softer, almost vulnerable.

"What are you talking about? It was only one night."

"Was it?" He moved closer, until you had to tilt your head back to keep eye contact. "Because I remember asking you to stay. I remember waking up to an empty bed and spent the next six months thinking about why you left."

"I... you were just saying that in the moment. People say lots of things in the moment."

"Do they?" His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face. "Is that why you ran? Because you thought I didn't mean it?"

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore how your skin prickled where he'd touched you. "Satoru..."

"You know what I think?" His voice dropped even lower, barely a whisper in the quiet kitchen. "I think you're scared. Not of me, but of the fact that you wanted to stay too."

"That's not—" But the words died in your throat as his thumb traced your jawline.

"Then why are you down here?" He was close enough now that you could feel the heat of his body against yours. "If it was just one night, just something casual, why did you follow me down here in the middle of the night?"

The counter pressed against your back—when had you started backing up?—and Satoru's arms came to rest on either side of you, caging you in. Position achingly familiar, reminding you of how this all started six months ago.

"I was thirsty," you said. You did not even believe yourself as you said it.

His laugh was barely a breath against your skin. "Liar."

And then his mouth was on yours, and god, you'd forgotten how good he was at this. His lips were soft but demanding, one hand sliding into your hair while the other gripped your hip, forcing you close against him. You gasped into the kiss, and he took the opportunity to deepen it, his tongue against yours in a way that made you forget your own name.

It was different from that first night—less urgent, but somehow more intense. He kissed you like he was trying to prove a point, like he was laying claim to every moment you'd denied him these past six months. His teeth caught your lower lip, and you had to bite back a whimper, too aware of the sleeping house above.

"Still want to pretend this is nothing?" he whispered against your mouth, and you could feel his smile when your only response was to pull him back down for another kiss.

His hands slid down to grip your thighs, lifting you onto the counter. You wrapped your legs around his waist, drawing him closer as his mouth moved to your neck, kissing your throat just the way you like it, just the way he somehow remembered.

"Someone could come down," you breathed, even as your fingers tangled in his hair.

"Then I guess you'll have to be quiet." His teeth grazed your skin, making you shiver. "Think you can manage that? Because I distinctly remember you being quite vocal last time."

You tightened your grip on his hair in return, but that just made him groan softly against your throat. "You're stupid."

"Mm, that's not what you said in Tokyo." His hands slid higher under your shirt, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. "In fact, I remember you saying some very different things—"

You cut him off with another kiss, partly to shut him up and partly because you needed his mouth on yours like you needed air. His fingers teased along your ribs, your back, your thighs, touching you everywhere except where you desperately wanted him to.

But then his fingers found the edge of your underwear, and you had to bite his shoulder to keep from moaning as he slid his fingers inside you, making you cum all over his fingers in seconds—just like that night in Tokyo.

You were done, dizzy, breathless, clinging to him as he stripped your shorts and underwear down your legs. He pushed one leg up your chest as he lowered you back down onto the marble kitchen counter, your other leg still wrapped around his waist. His forehead pressed against yours as he thrust inside, hard, slow, perfect angle—just like that night in Tokyo.

He tossed you around, manhandled you, fucked you against the fridge, threw you onto the couch and fucked you there too. He whispered your name, his voice husky against your ear, every letter a caress, even as he picked up pace, even as his hand closed around your throat, even as you bit into the pillow below to muffle your screams as he made you cum again. Multiple times. In various positions. Using his own cum as a lube for the next round—just like that night in Tokyo.

Afterwards you laid outside on the veranda in a big chair you both shared, gazing up at the stars scattered across the deep velvet sky, countless and impossibly bright. A second later his lips found yours and another second later you were on top of him, underwear pushed to the side and your head thrown back as he watched you chase your release on his dick—just like that night in Tokyo.

And his hand found yours, intertwining your fingers as he ate you out on the stairs just before you wanted to go back to bed, but he wouldn't let you, making you cum again before he carried you off to the laundry room to fuck you one last time for sure good mesure—just like that night in Tokyo.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Morning came way too early, sunlight streaming through windows you'd forgotten to close. Every muscle in your body ached in the most pleasant way, reminding you of exactly how many surfaces you and Satoru had christened last night. 

Yeah. You were definitely going to be feeling this for days. You winced slightly as you sat up — apparently kitchen counters weren't the most ergonomic choice for certain activities, or the stairs, or the laundry room, or... Okay, we get it.

When you finally made it downstairs, moving perhaps a bit more strangely than usual, Satoru was already at the breakfast table. Because of course he was, looking absolutely perfect and fullyfull rested in a fresh shirt, casually sipping his coffee like he hadn't spent half the night making you bite down on your fist to keep quiet.

"Well, someone looks rough," Nobara commented as you lowered yourself carefully into a chair. "Too much wine last night?"

You caught Satoru hiding a smirk behind his coffee cup. The bastard didn't even have the decency to look tired.

"Something like that," you muttered, reaching for the coffee pot and trying not to wince at the stretch. Your thighs burned in protest of the movement, and you could swear you saw Satoru's smile widening at your slight grimace.

"Must have been some wine," Nobara said, eyeing you suspiciously. "I don't remember you drinking that much during the game."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Yuji asked, looking concerned. "You're walking kind of funny."

"I'm fine, really," you managed. "Too much wine, that’s all."

Maki, who sat next to you, leaned in closer. "Your 'too much wine' is showing," she whispered, pointing to your collarbone. Your hand flew to your neck, suddenly remembering all the attention Satoru had paid to that area—especially that moment on the stairs when you'd begged him to finish what he'd started before anyone heard them, while he sucked a very dark bruise right above your collarbone.

You quickly buttoned up your cotton shirt higher, but from Nobara's growing grin, it was too late. But thankfully, no one commented on it.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The rest of Sunday passed in a lazy haze, with everyone moving a bit slower thanks to varying degrees of wine headaches. Most of the day was spent sprawled out on beach chairs, hiding behind sunglasses and drinking coconut water that Yuta swore would help with hangovers (but, in fact, did not).

You dozed on and off under an umbrella, trying not to think about how your body still ached in several places from the night before, and enjoyed your last day in Okinawa before you'd return to work on Monday.

When evening rolled around and it was time to pack up, the house became a chaos of suitcases and forgotten phone chargers once more. You were struggling with your bag next to your car, trying to figure out the best angle to lift it into the trunk without stressing your still sore muscles, when Satoru suddenly appeared and took it from your hands without a word.

"I can manage," you protested, but he was already lifting it into your trunk with an effortless ease that really shouldn't be as attractive as it was.

"I'm sure you can," he said, closing your trunk with a soft thud. "But maybe I just want an excuse to do this." 

Before you could ask what 'this' was, he pressed a small folded piece of paper into your palm. You opened it to find a phone number written in his surprisingly neat handwriting.

"Since you didn't stay for it last time," he said softly.

"What makes you think I'll use it?"

"Because this time, you want to stay just as much as I want you to." He leaned closer, his voice dropping so only you could hear. "Besides, I believe we still have a few surfaces in my apartment left to explore."

You shoved his shoulder. "Stop." 

He caught your hand before you could push him again. "Use it. Please?" His voice held a note of softness, an unexpected tenderness that made your heart ache with a strange longing. You nodded, tucking the paper safely into your back pocket.

"Still not announcing anything to everyone tho," you warned as Maki called out that they were ready to leave.

"Yet," he said with an eye roll. Then, before you could react, he pulled you in for one last kiss. It was slower, deeper this time, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you, as if he was afraid he might forget the feel of your lips.

"Someone could see us," you whispered against his lips, even as your fingers curled into his shirt.

"I don't care," he murmured, one hand sliding down to your waist to draw you closer. "Let them see." He kissed you again, shorter this time but no less intense. "Besides, they'll find out soon enough when I take you to this little ramen place in Shibuya I've been wanting to show you."

You pulled back slightly. "Oh? Someone's confident about getting a second date."

"Third, technically," he said. "If we're counting Tokyo. And that thing against the washing machine last night."

"Those don't count.”

"Then I guess I'll have to make the next one special. Maybe dinner first. Then I can show you my apartment. Properly this time, not just the entrance hall and kitchen counter."

"Is that your way of asking me out?"

"That's my way of saying I'm not letting you disappear for six months again." He pressed a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Use my number this time, yeah?"

"Satoru!" Yuji's voice carried across the driveway. "Stop making out and help me with these bags!"

Satoru laughed against your lips, stealing one more kiss before reluctantly pulling away. "Think about it. The ramen place. My apartment. All the surfaces we haven't used yet."

"Go help Yuji," you said, pushing him away even as you smiled. "Before he comes over here."

"Call me," he said, walking backwards with that stupidly handsome smile. "Or I'll just have to show up at your office. Make a big scene. Maybe bring flowers. Really embarrass you in front of all your coworkers."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me!" He finally turned then to help with the bags, leaving you to shake your head, your lips still tingling from his kisses.

The drive home felt different somehow. Every now and then, your hand would drift to your pocket, fingers brushing over the folded paper with his number, making sure it was still there as the familiar roads back to Tokyo stretched ahead.

The beach house grew smaller in your rearview mirror until it disappeared completely, taking with it the memories of lazy afternoons under the summer sun and heated nights. But other things lingered—the ghost of his lips against yours, the warmth of his hands, the way he'd looked at you like you were something worth waiting for.

Maybe you'd call him tomorrow. Or maybe you'd wait a day or two, just to prove you could. But knowing you, you'd likely message him the moment you set foot in your apartment.

A smile tugged at your lips as you pulled onto the highway, the setting sun painting the sky in strokes of rose and  lavender. Whatever happened next, one thing was for sure — this weekend had changed everything.

And maybe, just maybe, that wasn't such a bad thing.

masterlist + support my writing

author's note — and that's a wrap on our beach house summer story ! thank you so much for reading :)) & thank you again to @/nanamis-baker for beta reading !!

for anyone wondering, yes, she kept the shirt. and yes, he definitely noticed when she wore it to their first proper date to that ramen spot in shibuya.

if you enjoyed this fic, please feel free to leave a comment or reblog. it means so much !! until next time. stay thirsty hydrated, my friends <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here.

tags — @fayuki @starmapz @starlightanyaaa @sxnkuna @cocomanga

@nanamis-baker @rosso-seta @sugurbo @chiyokoemilia @janbannan

@bloopsstuff @snowsilver2000 @ihearttoru @momoewn @yokosandesu

@90s-belladonna @fairygardenprincesss

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[redfurrycat]

🤠🐓💘Just Call Me Cupid 🐓🤠💘

[A lil' something very much punny...]

After a dogfighting exercise against the ’86 flyboys – to see who the better pilots are, the Daggers as a newly assembled squadron are in the locker room where they change back into their civvies. Everyone also takes their stuff from their lockers, except…

An envelope fell from Hangman and Rooster’s lockers. They are non-descriptive envelopes. The pilots are a bit surprised, but they just shrug off the whole thing, too tired to think about anything else but a fluffy bed to take a nap into.

Finally in the privacy of their own rooms, they each take the time to read the content of what’s inside their envelopes. When they are finished, both blonde and brunet sport a beaming smile and start getting ready to go out, blushing the entire time like idiots….

What Rooster reads:

What Hangman reads:

They realise during their date –the Hard Deck was specifically booked for the two of them– that they didn’t send each other a card, and that someone has decided to end the suffering of watching two grown men mutual-idiotically pining for one another.

Who do you think deserve a citation for such commendable bravery? Place your bets!

[I found the Rooster pun on the punstoppable page.]

[incognit0slut]

Angel

PART 5 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST

Single Dad!Spencer x Nanny!Reader Spencer likes having you around to look after his daughter, in fact, he likes you a bit too much.

content: (18+) 5.4k, breeding kink, fingering, fem oral, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, overstimulation, d/s dynamic but he still tries to be a gentleman although reader doesn’t want him to, mutual pining, body worship with slight religious metaphors bc he’s down so bad, and of course sweet aftercare a/n: 1) i know the gif isn’t spencer but i just had to; 2) i changed the title from the original plan bc i was listening to angel baby while writing this; 3) if i have the chance to describe his happy trail and tummy i will in a heartbeat; 4) this fic is basically the epitome of D-I-L-F!

“I want you to understand,” he mutters against your skin, kissing the sensitive spot just below your ear, “that I’m not trying to take advantage of you.”

A hand creeps up the back of his neck. “What if I want you to?”

“I’m serious.”

“I am serious. I’m not the one hesitating.”

His hand glides slowly up your side, fingertips barely ghosting over your skin, and a soft, shaky breath escapes his lips. “I’m trying to be responsible."

“I think we’re past being responsible,” you counter as his fingers trace your waist. “What are you so worried about, anyway? You’re not forcing me into anything.”

“I want to make sure you don’t feel like—” his fingers twitch, lingering over your bare skin, “—like I’m taking advantage of the situation.”

“I’m literally naked under you,” you remind him. “If anyone’s taking advantage here, it’s me.”

His forehead drops to your shoulder, and you feel the slow rise and fall of his chest as he exhales. “You’re making this really hard, you know that?”

“That’s kind of the point.”

And it’s true, Spencer realizes with a rush of heat, because he’s incredibly hard, the heavy length of his cock pressed against your stomach while he braces his weight above you. His lungs tighten, squeezing around breaths that feel too thick to swallow as his teeth graze his lower lip. It takes everything in him to keep from losing himself when his mind is already slipping.

How could he have ever imagined it would go this far?

Spencer can’t quite make sense of how this quiet, unassuming crush that crept in the first time he saw you with his daughter has led to this. It wasn’t anything grand or sudden, just this slow bloom that unfurled every time he caught you reading to Violet or laughing with her over some little joke in the living room. There was just something about the way you slipped so easily into his life, fitting into the spaces he hadn’t realized were empty until you filled them.

He’d never let himself imagine it would go beyond that. He’d convinced himself those feelings for you were just something he’d have to live with quietly, a small ache that would fade with time. But somehow, despite his best efforts to keep it hidden, you’d found your way to him. And against all his expectations, you liked him back. You like him enough that you’re now wearing nothing but a smile.

Flushed skin kissed by the moonlight spilling through the window.

Innocent eyes touched with a hint temptation.

It all feels like some sort of surreal dream.

The moment that led to this replays in his mind, clear as daylight even if it happened well past midnight. He’d gotten home somewhere between too late and way too late, running on nothing but caffeine and sugar, and there you were, leaning casually against the kitchen counter like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You started talking about your day with Violet, recounting how you’d taken her to the park, read her favorite book before bed, and how she’d peppered you with endless questions about why the sky changes colors when the day changes into night. But something was different in your voice, a softness to the way you said his name, and your gaze lingered on him just a beat longer than usual. It wasn’t anything obvious, nothing he could point to and say that’s it, but he felt it. An almost imperceptible shift in the air.

Before he knew it, he had crossed the room and kissed you. He should’ve thought it through or paused to consider the consequences, but the way you responded made it clear you’d been waiting just as long for his attention.

His shoulders fall with a quiet exhale.

“This could get complicated,” he continues, as if reminding you (and maybe himself) that there’s a line between employee and employer that he’s about to cross. A line that could change everything between you both once it’s blurred. “We should think about what this means.”

“We’ve had plenty of time to think. If you wanted to stop, you would’ve done it already.”

“I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to say.”

“Then please enlighten me.”

Instead of answering right away, he leans in, his lips finding the curve of your neck. His breath is warm against your skin, and then he’s gently pulling the tender flesh between his lips that draws a sudden moan from your throat. The sound seems to fuel him, and before you can even register what’s happening, his fingers are already slipping lower, exploring the soft space between your thighs.

“What if I want more than this?” His fingers inch closer, teasingly brushing against your heat with a slowness that borders on torment. “What if I want everything?”

Your hips buck against his hand. “Everything?”

“Everything,” he confirms. “Not just tonight.”

The words send a ripple of electricity that blooms deep in your core. When his fingers finally slip between your folds, a sharp gasp escapes your lips before you can hold it back.

“You… you mean you want… more than this? More than just us… here?”

“Yes,” he replies, his voice catching like gravel in his throat as his fingers trace over the slickness he’s found. “Does that scare you?”

For a moment, words fail you. The slow, coaxing rhythm of his fingers pulls you deeper into a haze where coherent thoughts are hard to grasp. There’s a pause, a heartbeat where he stops. Waiting.

“No,” you confess, the truth slipping out more easily than you expected. “It doesn’t.”

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “It doesn’t?”

Your lungs expand, filling with a rush of oxygen and a nervous flutter that lands somewhere in the pit of your stomach. “I think this is the right time to tell you I’ve had a crush on you for a while.”

Spencer stays motionless for a beat. Then something shifts—his gaze softens, and a small, almost incredulous smile curves his lips. “You have a crush on me?”

“Yeah.”

“As in… you have feelings for me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So you’re not just… turned on right now?”

“Well, that too,” you admit with a grin, your fingers brushing the back of his neck. “But it’s more than that. I really like you.”

His smile widens, and his fingers begin to move again, circling your clit with just the right pressure to pull a sharp intake of breath from you. It’s as though your confession is a final green light he’d been waiting for. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Your teeth catch your lip, struggling to hold back fragments of breath. “I thought it was obvious,” you manage between heavy exhales. “Why do you think I always stay late?"

"To avoid traffic?"

You huff. "I tried to be around you as much as possible, Spencer."

His fingers toy at the edge of your entrance, tracing the slick, warm wetness that clings to his skin as a quiet hum rumbles in his chest. “You know I’m not always the best at picking up social cues.”

“You’re a profiler.” Your breath catches halfway between a gasp and a sigh when he slides a finger in. “You're supposed to notice everything."

He lets your words settle, eyes narrowing slightly as he turns them over in his mind.

“I guess I was too focused on trying not to cross any lines to see the ones you were trying to draw."

A soft moan escapes your lips as another finger slides in.

“I'm… glad you finally caught on."

"I'm catching on now.”

His eyes drop to the way your body greedily takes his fingers. The sight alone sends a rush of heat straight to his gut like a line of fire winding up through his chest and spreading into his limbs. You’re dripping, the slick sound of your arousal nearly derails him as he continues to watch the wetness coat his fingers with every slow thrust.

“Since when have you had this crush?” He asks curiously.

There’s a beat of silence, only punctuated by the soft, breathy noises escaping you. When he finally looks up, he catches the way your face scrunches in pleasure, brows furrowed and eyes barely open, and he can’t help but find it almost unbearably adorable. The corners of his lips twitch with a quiet laugh before he leans in, pressing the softest it’s okay, you can tell me kiss against your lips.

“Since when?”

You blink your eyes open at his question, and there’s a flush of embarrassment in your cheeks.

“Since—” you start, but your voice catches when he curls his fingers slightly, and you bite down on your lip to keep from moaning. He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a barely-contained grin.

“Since?” he prompts again.

You swallow the lump tightening in your throat. “Since you interviewed me for the job."

He absorbs your words. "That’s… more than a while."

"It was innocent at the time," you confess, trying to regain some control over your thoughts. "Just a silly little crush."

His pace quickens, fingers plunging deeper, and whatever sense of composure you had left is slipping away piece by piece. “What changed?”

Desperation claws at you with every passing second, your hips moving against his hand as you scramble to gather your thoughts. But the way his fingers are mapping every sensitive spot makes it nearly impossible to articulate anything coherent. He doesn’t miss the way your breath stutters, or how your words break apart into fragmented attempts to answer.

“I-I—” you stammer, wincing as the words catch in your throat before you finally manage to continue, “I probably shouldn’t say…”

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing."

He lets out a soft laugh. “Tell me anyway,” he urges. “I want to hear it.”

You fall quiet again, and the only sounds that fill the space between you is the ragged pull of your breaths and the slick rhythm of his fingers pumping lazily inside you. The words sit heavy on your tongue, threatening to disappear if you don’t say them quickly enough.

"Remember when… you taught Violet how to… ride her bike?”

He tilts his head slightly. There’s a furrow in his brow as he searches your face. “You’re going to have to be more specific, there were a lot of lessons.”

“The very first time.”

“Ah,” he muses. “Around June, then.”

You nod. “When I… saw you with her that day, I-I… I got curious.”

His fingers falter, just slightly, the subtle pause enough to show that you’ve grabbed his attention. “Curious?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “You were so adorable with her… and I started thinking about what it would be like… to have your kids.”

If there was ever a moment to leave him utterly speechless, this was it. His brain seems to stall, the gears grinding to a halt as the reality of what you’ve said settles in. He’s spent so much time trying to be the one holding it all together, but now? Now all he could picture was you holding a baby—his baby—and the thought sent his mind reeling, knocking him off balance in a way he didn’t expect.

“You… thought about that?”

Your fingers trails his shoulder before slipping up into his hair, curling gently at the nape of his neck. “It crossed my mind more than once.”

“That’s—” wow. He leans his forehead against yours. “Not embarrassing. At all.”

“Really?”

“That’s probably the hottest thing I've ever heard in my life.”

You let out a soft chuckle, gently pulling on his curls before drawing his bottom lip into a gentle suck. “It’s never been innocent since then.”

Goosebumps rises along his skin, and the heat pooling low in his stomach tightens as he grows impossibly harder. “Yeah?”

“I’ve wanted you to fuck me for a long time.”

His jaw clenches.

He’s so close to completely losing it.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he mutters, pressing his fingers deeper inside you.

“Why.. why not?”

“Because I might give you exactly what you want.” When he feels you clench around him, he huffs in amusement. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

There’s a tender spot he finds deep inside, one that feels achingly sensitive, and your mouth falls open, a soundless gasp escaping before you can catch it.

“You really mean it,” he says, more a realization than a question, as he watches your body go pliant beneath his touch.

“I do,” you manage to say.

“You want me that way?”

You nod frantically. “Want your cum in me.”

The second those words leave your lips, his groan rumbles through his chest, and you swallow it down as his mouth crashes into yours. The kiss is messy, teeth clashing and tongues tangling in a chaotic rhythm that’s both desperate and needy. When he finally pulls away, you’re left panting, your lips swollen, his forehead resting against yours.

“Never would’ve guessed you had such a dirty mouth."

"There's a lot of thing you don't know about me."

His breath brushes against your lips as he whispers, “I’m starting to figure that out.”

When he slowly withdraws his fingers, you can’t help the soft whimper that escapes your throat. Your eyes follow his every move as he sits up and settles between your thighs. You’ve always thought Spencer was an attractive man, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t admired the way his shirts fit just snug enough to hint at what was underneath. But seeing him naked like this? That was a whole new level of breathtaking.

Your gaze trails down his frame, landing on the soft curve of his stomach, something you'd secretly adored every time it pressed against his dress shirts. It was even more captivating without anything hiding it now, especially with the trail of dark hair leading down. Soft, scattered strands, drawing your eyes right to the place where you can’t help but stare.

He gives himself a slow pump. Once. Twice. And then, finally, you feel the firm pressure of his tip pressing between your folds.

“Are you sure?” he asks, the head of his cock sliding over your sensitive skin. “There's a condom in my drawer."

Your body tenses at the thought of him pulling back, and without thinking, your hand reaches between the two of you, wrapping around his cock before he can pull away. “When was the last time you got tested?”

He exhales sharply. “A few months ago,” he mutters, hips twitching against your grip despite himself. “If there was any risk, I wouldn’t even consider this without telling you.”

“I got tested last month,” you assure him quickly. “We’re both safe.”

He nods absentmindedly. “We can… still grab the condom if you want…”

“Spencer,” you interrupt, gently brushing the bead of precum that had formed at his tip. “I thought I made it clear I want you to cum inside me.”

He can only stare as your delicate finger trails along the thick vein. It feels like all the oxygen he’s desperately clinging to has been sucked from his lungs.

“I know you said you don’t want to take advantage of me…” you continue, guiding him right to your entrance. “But I really want you to.”

He finally lets out a low, gruff sound, something between a growl and a sigh as he slowly pushes himself in. His eyes are locked on the sight of your walls stretching to accommodate his size, watching as your body struggles to take him.

"You should stop talking like that," he rasps through gritted teeth. "I’m barely holding it together."

"Here's another thing you should know about me.”

He ruts gently into you. A push. A pull.

A heartbeat in between.

“I really like it rough."

That’s all it takes.

He slams his hips into yours.

Intense doesn’t even begin to describe what he feels. It’s more like a surge, a rush of heat and desperation that floods every inch of him the same time you cry out. His throat tightens, constricting around breaths he can’t seem to catch as he resorts to inhaling sharply through his nose.

“Jesus… you feel so—” His words falter, his voice rough and breathless as his fingers figs into your skin. His chest rises and falls with each labored breaths, and his eyes squeezes shut for a moment.

Tight. Warm. Wet. That’s exactly how you feel.

"Perfect." His large hands grips your waist. “You’re perfect.”

You mewl at his words, the sound spilling from your lips before you can stop it, and the soft, needy noise is enough to make his eyes flicker open. He begins to pull back, just enough to make you whimper from the sudden loss of contact, but before you can catch your breath, he snaps his hips forward with a rough, powerful thrust.

Your hands fly to his arms, holding onto him tightly. "Spencer… Please…”

He lets out a sigh.

No man is immune to that tone of desperation, least of all Spencer. Not when you’re offering yourself to him like something out of a dream. Not when your eyes lock onto his with a look that belongs more to an angel—if angels could be so helpless and desperate. Because what angel pleads with every breath for more?

What angel cries out as he holds your hips firmly in place and thrusts with a force that drives you to the brink of sanity?

He’s mesmerized. His eyes track the way your breasts bounce with each snap of his hips. There’s something almost greedy in the way his gaze roams over you, but it’s when he locks onto where your bodies meet that he really loses himself. A glossy ring coats his cock each time he pulls out, and when he pushes back in, the friction between your bodies creates a lewd, wet sound that fills the room.

He laughs. Not out of mockery, but out of sheer delight.

You’re an angel wrapped in sin.

“I can’t—oh god, right there—” Your nails leave little crescents moon on his skin. “You’re so… so deep.”

You’re really testing his limits, and Spencer knows he’s very far from a violent man, but right now, the temptation to cover your mouth with his hand is becoming dangerously real. Although with the way you’re writhing beneath him, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts, he’s sure you’d probably enjoy it.

“Spencer…”

His balls slaps your ass as he slams into you.

“O-Oh—fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He squeezes your waist tightly. “Already?”

“Ngh.”

Your grip loosens on his arm, and before he can fully process what’s happening, your fingers dance along your clit. It takes all his willpower not to spill into you right then and there when he feels you tighten around him in response. But he holds on, because he needs you to cum first. He needs to feel your velvety walls flutter along the rigid veins of his cock, needs to watch the way your body tenses with pleasure.

He needs to feel it more than once.

He lets you have your first orgasm. Although letting seems like the wrong word. There’s nothing passive about it. He’s making you cum, driving you to it with each calculated thrust. You’re toying with your clit, rubbing in frantic circles just like you do whenever you touch yourself with the thought of him, but this time, it’s even more intense. This time, he’s inside you. And this time, it takes only a few moments for the tension to snap.

You clamp down on him. Hard. So hard that his movement falters for a second, but he quickly recovers, thrusting into you with a relentless rhythm. Just as you start to catch your breath, he pulls out, and you’re left in that delicious, dizzy haze, but your mind is even more disoriented when his face suddenly lowers between your thighs.

“Oh, you’re gonna—” you moan as his shoulders nudge your legs apart, opening you wider for him. “Spencer, you don’t have to—”

Before you can finish, before you even take another breath, the tip of his tongue flicks out.

“I want to.”

And he means it. He dives in with a hunger that leaves no room for doubt. His tongue starts firm and flat, pressing against you before dragging slowly upward, gathering your slickness in one deliberate sweep. Then he changes rhythm, the broad strokes shifting into something more focused, alternating between gentle flicks and deep, hungry pulls, and it’s doing things to you that no amount of late-night fantasies could have prepared you for.

Your head is all over the place that you reach out blindly, trying to find something solid, but the air merely glides over your skin. You stretch for the edge of the bed, fingertips just skimming the surface before your arms flail helplessly in the empty space. He notices your struggle almost immediately, and without missing a beat, he pulls back, lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders.

“Here,” he says, reaching out his arms toward you. “Give me your hands.”

Gladly. The second your fingers lock with his, a sense of grounding floods you, though it does nothing to ease the intensity of what he’s doing. If anything, it sharpens. You can feel the muscles in his shoulders flex under your thighs as he positions himself. And sure, your legs somehow feel weightless, like they’re floating in the air, but the rest of you?

You’re a mess of nerve endings on fire.

It’s impossible to think clearly when every cell in your body is buzzing. Your thoughts scatter the second his mouth moves in that devastating way, driving you out of your mind. You try to hold on to some semblance of control, but who are you kidding? He has officially turned you into a puddle of desperate, needy nerves, and you don’t even care.

It doesn’t take long before that coil snaps, and when it does, your entire body trembles. It’s always the second orgasm. The first is a tease, a little warm-up. The second one is the worst—or the best, depending on how you look at it. It doesn’t just tug at your edges, it tears right through, leaving you gasping and shaking and completely undone like every part of you has been pulled apart and put back together very wrong.

His mouth is glazed with your slick when he finally pulls away. “Good?”

You can barely feel your legs.

“Speechless,” is your answer.

His nose twitches in amusement as his hand leaves yours only for them to slide down your body, gently coaxing your legs to wrap around his waist. “Continue?”

“Please.”

A palm slips down your thigh. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

You swipe your tongue across your bottom lip as he hovers above you. “About what?”

“About taking advantage of you.”

You huff out a sigh. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

“Say it again,” he urges, guiding his cock smoothly along your folds before your whines travel into his ears. Ah, there it is. This is the sound that would greet him in heaven, if such a place existed for someone like him. Men who’ve taken lives to save others. Men who carry too many regrets to count. Spencer knows he’s not the kind of person heaven was built for, but if it were, he’s certain it would sound exactly like the breathy moan that escapes your lips.

And he’s tasted the afterlife, once, when he was younger—drifting somewhere between consciousness and oblivion with a ghost of a needle stuck in his arm. But nothing about that brush with death was like this. This feels like he’s been pulled back into something he didn’t believe he deserved.

“Say it again.”

He’s pleading now. It sounds awfully like a prayer.

“I want you to take advantage of me,” you say, the words spilling from your lips like a soft, sinful confession, music to his ears. An angel. “I want all of it.”

He takes your hands again. “So you won’t be mad if I get a little rough?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

That’s all he needs. He gently pushes your hands above your head, pinning them to the mattress, his fingers lacing through yours as his weight presses you into the bed. There’s a sudden rush—like a switch has flipped that it knocks the breath out of you. Your heart skips a beat, but not from nerves. No, this is anticipation, excitement.

You test his hold on you, just to see what happens, but his grip stays firm, almost daring you to resist.

“You asked for this,” he warns as he shifts his hips, aligning himself right to your entrance.

You shake your head. “I begged for this.”

He laughs, a flash of teeth in the dim light. “Yeah,” he breathes, his grip tightening as he presses deeper, “you did.”

A breathless whine escapes your lips as he fills you.

Angel, angel, angel.

He looks at you with a kind of reverence that borders on worship, though his movements are anything but saintly. There’s nothing gentle or innocent about the way he’s taking you, and there’s a quiet madness in the way you respond. Making love would be too tame, too soft for what this is. But fucking seems too crude, too disconnected for the way your eyes meet his, for the way you say his name like a prayer and a demand all at once.

The moment your voice breaks, breathless and needy, something inside him snaps. He feels the tightness coiling in his gut, and once it starts, there’s no stopping it. The pressure is mounting, and with every hard thrust it becomes harder to hold back. He knows he should slow down, give you a moment to catch your breath, but he can’t—his body won’t let him.

His fingers tighten around yours. He’s moving with a single-minded intensity now, pushing you flat against the mattress, your body pliant beneath him. The bed creaks every time he moves and your legs wrap tighter around his hips as you squeeze your eyes shut.

Spencer leans down, brushing his lips against yours, so close but never quite closing the distance, like even the simplest kiss would shatter him too soon. Instead, he rests his forehead on top of yours and whispers, “l’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over, like he’s stuck on some endless loop. It’s not a real apology, not for anything he’s done, but for how much he needs you and how he’s afraid of breaking you with how much he can’t hold back.

He’s so close and he knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“I’m—” He groans as he feels the tension in his body snap, the wave building up in his spine and crashing down with brutal intensity. “I—fuck—I can’t hold it—”

You’re barely coherent yourself, but your voice comes out strong. A little breathless.

“Inside,” you gasp, your legs tightening around his waist. “I want it inside.”

Your words push him over the edge. He shudders, hips stuttering as he buries himself as deep as he can the moment the last thread of his restraint snaps. He can feel it, the way he pulses inside you, filling you completely. Every thrust is accompanied by a harsh groan as his release paints your walls, and the sound of your soft, desperate whines only pushes him deeper into the overwhelming pleasure.

When it finally becomes too much, he carefully pulls out. But the intensity is still coursing through his veins, and he’s too addicted to the sound of your sound, too drawn to the way your body trembles beneath him.

His hand drifts from your wrist almost on instinct, tracing its way down between your legs. He doesn’t need to see the mess he’s made—he can feel it. There’s a fleeting moment where he pauses, almost in awe, before his fingers brush over your clit, and your hips jerk in response. He’s not even sure if he’s teasing you or himself at this point, but he’s too far gone to care.

He slides two fingers inside you.

Your back arches instantly, your nipples brushing against his chest, and you gasp, fully aware of what he’s trying to do. “Oh… I—I can’t…”

He shakes his head. “You can,” he reassures you, watching in fascination as he pushes the white liquid of his release deeper into you. His gaze snaps back to yours. “I think you can give me one more.”

Your body trembles, and you can’t hold back the soft, broken cry that escapes your lips.

“Spencer…”

He loosens his grip on your hand, guiding it gently to rest around his neck. “Please,” he begs, his lips brushing your skin, “for me?”

The way he says it makes it impossible for you to deny him. And he knows it. He feels it in the way your nails dig into the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the tension inside you builds again. His fingers work faster, more desperate now, curling inside you just the way you like.

He’s watching, waiting, and when you finally cum again, it’s like witnessing something so divine. Your body shakes beneath him, a violent, beautiful quake that feels like it’s pulling him into its orbit. He’s unable to tear his eyes away as your head tilts back, lips parting with a choked moan that’s as delicate as it is devastating like an angel’s breath caught on the edge of rapture.

If angels looked this breathtaking in heaven, no wonder people were willing to risk damnation.

Spencer smiles wryly to himself.

Since when did he become so religious?

Another strangled moan escapes your lips. When your orgasm finally subsides, your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, and with what little strength you have left, you reach up and yank weakly at his mop of brown curls.

“…no more.”

He smiles softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “No more,” he agrees, pulling his fingers from you carefully.

Without saying a word, he slips off the bed and disappears from the room, only to come back with a damp towel in his hand. You expect him to hand it over to you, but you’re surprised when he kneels at the edge of the bed, gently spreading your legs apart.

Your skin tingles under his gaze as he stares at the mess between your thighs.

“That was…” he starts as he begins to wipe the towel over you. “…very reckless of us.”

With a small, tired smile, you mutter, “You don’t seem too bothered by it.”

He glances up at you. “I’m not,” he admits, finishing his cleanup and setting the towel aside. “But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t at least pretend to be responsible.”

You reach for him as he climbs back into bed. “Would it make you feel better if I told you I’m on birth control?”

He exhales a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, his body visibly relaxing as he lets out a quiet laugh. “It definitely helps,” he says, tucking you under his chin, “but I’m still going to try to be more careful next time.”

Your grin is as wide as the warmth spreading through your chest. “Next time?”

He smiles softly. “I meant what I said earlier.”

“Which part? You said a lot of things.”

“You know what I mean,” he insists.

“I know. But I want to hear it again.”

The tip of his nose brushes yours. “I want everything.”

“Everything?”

“Every single part of you.”

You take a deep breath. A whiff of his sweat and the faintest trace of soap clings around your senses until you release a happy sigh. “Do you think Violet will be okay with this? With us?”

His hand slips to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he tilts his head to look at you. “She already loves you,” he reassures you. “She’s more adaptable than you think. And she trusts you.”

“But... what if it changes things for her?”

“It will change things,” he admits. “But all the changes will be good ones."

You mull over his words. “You think so?”

“I know so, because you make her happy. You make both of us happy, an—”

He stops, his lips just barely parted as he catches himself.

He almost said it. He almost called you angel.

“What?”

He shakes his head slightly, a faint embarrassed smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I’m just really happy,” he explains, his fingers absentmindedly brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. There’s a curious look in your eyes, but instead of pressing him, you bury yourself into his neck, which he’s quietly grateful for because he’s not sure he could have explained himself without sounding like a total sap.

And maybe he is a sap, but even he’s aware that words like that shouldn’t be thrown around too soon, especially after just one night. Not before things settle in, before everything feels a little less like a dream and more like reality.

But he thinks about it. Oh, he thinks about it. The word stubbornly lingers at the edge of his mind he’s keeping for another time. He imagines letting it slip on some quiet morning, when you’re half-asleep and bundled in his shirt, golden sunlight filtering through the window to cast a warm glow across your skin. Or maybe when you meet him at the door after a long day, and Violet runs up, chattering away while you smile at him with that look that feels like coming home.

He can picture it falling easily from his lips someday, maybe even in a future where you’re holding the baby you had wondered about having with him and he’s standing there, watching you like someone who can’t quite believe his luck.

He’ll say it with a kind of certainty then. Not as a prayer, not as some lofty declaration of divine grace.

And when that moment comes, without hesitation, he’ll finally call you his angel.

[gabseyoo]

DON'T WASTE THE NIGHT — SAKUSA KIYOOMI

content: college/university!au, halloween setting, female reader, virgin!kiyoomi, popular!reader, virginity loss, mutual pining, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, pretty vanilla but cute, mean girls references, kiyoomi might be a little occ, he’s shy :(, atsumu being atsumu. word count: 8,0k.

notes: yes i’m late to halloween but i don’t care :) it’s being so long since i posted a one shot and i had this idea for maybe a year, two (?), and i finally had the inspiration to write everythiiing. i’m happy with the result, i hope you like it too <3

Halloween parties were not Kiyoomi's thing. Rather, no party at all. He didn't like the crowds, the drunks, or the excessive noise. But thanks to his group of friends (which he doesn't even remember how he ended up being a part of), staying away from parties was almost impossible, so it was already a common thing for him to be dragged to one every weekend where he would be counting the minutes to leave and drive all his drunk friends home. 

But, that was not the case tonight. 

Surprisingly, it was the first time Kiyoomi didn't want to leave a party, and that was thanks to a certain someone who had shown up at the Miya's Halloween party. 

"Just go talk to her." 

Kiyoomi almost jumped in surprise at the sudden appearance of his personal headache, also known as Atsumu. 

"Who?" He asked, playing dumb because he knew perfectly well who the blond was referring to, and mentally slapped himself for not being more discreet.

Atsumu snorted, "Y/n. You're staring at her like a creep." He said, pointing his head in your direction across the room, where you were talking enthusiastically with your friend, dressed in a pink tracksuit. "I don't blame you. She's pretty."

Sakusa kept silent, trying to suppress his need to agree out loud, because of course you were pretty. More than pretty. 

"You like her, don't you?" 

Kiyoomi sighed heavily, obviously uncomfortable with the question. It was obvious he liked you. Very much. But he didn't trust Atsumu to be able to not make a big deal out of the fact that Sakusa liked someone, so he decided to answer his question with a dry: "No."

"Liar." The blond replied. "It's pretty obvious that you like her."

"I don't like her." He insisted, though he already knew it would be in vain, it wasn't for nothing he called Atsumu his headache.

"So you hate her and you're staring at her 'cause you're planning her murder?"

Jesuschrist.

"I'll be planning your murder if you don't shut up." 

Atsumu pursed his lips and Kiyoomi thanked god in his head. But the fake threat seemed to work only for a limited time, because the twin spoke again seconds later, making him roll his eyes.

"Don't you even think she's pretty?"

He let out a sigh in frustration, but agreed with the question because, c’mon, it will be a very blatant lie to deny the obvious, "She is." He admitted, "But I don't like her." 

"You do like her, there can't be any other reason why you were looking at her like that."

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, is there a way to shut this guy down?

"Like what?" 

"Like you like her." 

"If I say so, will you shut the fuck up?" He blurted, resigned. 

"I knew it!" Atsumu exclaimed victoriously, and Kiyoomi just let out a sigh, cringing when the twin tapped him a little too hard on the shoulder as if he was congratulating him. "Wow. So Omi likes someone, huh, who knew." 

"Don't make a big deal out of it." 

"Omi, liking someone isn't a bad thing." He said in a more earnest manner, perhaps trying to show that he was actually serious and not joking about his friend’s situation. 

Kiyoomi closed his eyes for a moment and sighed before replying, "I know it's not."

"Then why don't you go and talk to her? She's in your class, isn't she? It wouldn't be weird. Maybe she likes you back."

The twin had a point. Sakusa sat behind you for two hours straight five days a week during a very boring class. While you might not call yourselves the best of friends, you could say you got along well— you would usually turn around to ask him if he understood the subject so he could explain it to you, borrow a pen or offer him a gum. Occasionally you would randomly show him your phone with something you thought was funny and there were even times when you would ask his opinion on which item to buy or which selfie to post, you would often have small conversations and even followed each other on Instagram. And, as a bonus, lately you had started walking together to the classroom exit at the end of class where you would say goodbye with a 'see you tomorrow'. 

But you liking him back? He didn't think he was that lucky.

Because, yes, maybe you weren't a stranger to Kiyoomi and he wasn't a stranger to you either, but contrary to what many believed, Sakusa Kiyoomi didn't have much experience with women, not even with having a crush on someone. The idea of talking to you outside the classroom made him nervous. You were too pretty and too charming and too popular and too hot and... out of his league.

There were times when he wondered if it was possible for you to like him? Okay, call him arrogant, but he knew he was nowhere near ugly, that was a point in his favor. But one point that was not in his favor was the fact that, yes, maybe he was good-looking, but the university was full of good-looking guys, who unlike him, were more... outgoing. Guys who smiled more and didn't have a grumpy attitude like he did, who weren't known for being rude, and who probably wouldn't think twice about asking for your number or inviting you on a date. And, honestly, he felt like one more in the very long list of men who have a crush on you. 

"It's just..." He started, but the words were lost in his throat.

"Just what?"

"She doesn't see me that way. Just leave it at that, okay?" He finished his sentence, taking a sip from the bottle of water he'd been carrying since he arrived. 

Atsumu folded his arms, glancing in your direction for a moment before making that smile that never meant anything good, "You know what? I have an idea." 

Kiyoomi panicked. "Miya, what are you gonna do?" 

"You'll thank me later." 

And just like that, Atsumu pushed himself off the wall he was leaning against and before Sakusa could stop him, he started walking in your direction.

No. No. No. No. Kiyoomi's heart was going to escape from his chest. Fuck. He knew it was a bad idea to be honest with Atsumu. A. Fucking. Bad. Idea.

He watched frozen from his spot in the corner of the room the moment the blond approached you, greeting you and your friend casually before saying who knows what that made you look at him with confusion for a moment as you exchanged more words, but after something that left the blond's mouth, your face lit up with a smile. The interaction seemed to be going well, until the twin pointed— really fucking pointed—over his shoulder, and then, you connected your eyes with Kiyoomi’s for a moment. 

His feet began to move automatically. 

Towards the exit. 

He was so embarrassed. What did Atsumu say to you? What did you think? Fuck. He didn't even want to know. He was out of here, he'd move his seat to the other end of the classroom, or better yet, he'd never set foot in that class again, who cares if he had to repeat it next semester, that was better than looking you in the face after this.

"Where do you think you're goin'?" 

Sakusa was halfway to his car when he heard the twin's voice call out to him. 

"Home." 

Atsumu trotted up in front of him. "Come on. Don't be like that, listen-" 

"You fucking embarrassed me." He spat, pulling his keys out of his jacket roughly. 

"I didn't. I just did you a favor." Atsumu replied, crossing his arms proudly, which only raised Kiyoomi's anger levels.

Don't punch him. Don't punch him. Don't punch him.

"Fuck you, don't talk to me ever again."

"C'mon Kiyoomi, trust me. You think I'm capable of making a fool of you?" The twin asked with confidence in his voice. Kiyoomi simply looked at him, his silence explaining his answer, which caused Atsumu's smile to disappear. "Ouch." The twin brought a hand to his chest dramatically and Kiyoomi rolled his eyes before pressing a button on the control, removing the lock and alarm. 

He was barely about to open the car door when Atsumu spoke again. This time in a more serious tone, "Omi, I'm your friend. Just trust me. I would never do anything to hurt you."

Kiyoomi would never admit that those words made him feel a little bad about his attitude. 

Without removing his hand from the door handle, he blurted out the question that was consuming him and that he needed an answer to.

"What did you tell her?" 

For some reason, he expected Atsumu to answer with honesty, but he wasn't surprised when instead, the twin simply replied, "A wingman never reveals his secrets."

"Oh, fuck off." He mused, opening his car door just a few centimeters before the other man's hand closed it.

"Look, just go inside and talk to her. I swear I saw it in her face that she’s interested, of course, until you ran away like a chicken. I hope she's not offended and you've lost the opportunity of a lifetime." 

Only a sentence of Atsumu's words caught his attention.  

"What do you mean with 'she looked interested'?" He asked, his voice betraying him by not sounding as disinterested as he wanted it to.

Atsumu smirked. "It seems like she does see you that way."

You do?

The mere possibility of that being true, of you seeing him that way, was what prompted him to let out a last sigh and set the car alarm again before locking his keys in his hoodie. Although he wouldn't say this out loud and was still unhappy with Atsumu's actions, the twin was right in saying that this could be his chance. Maybe he should stop feeling self-conscious and just go for it. 

"If you're lying, you forget I exist." 

"Deal." Atsumu said, stretching out his hand, waiting for him to take it, but the black-haired simply brushed past him, to which the twin simply huffed in resignation before following his friend.  

Kiyoomi's feet felt heavier with every step he took back to the twins' house, he was going to do it. He was actually going to do it. He was going to talk to you outside the classroom, after whatever Atsumu had told you, which opened the door to many possibilities. One, was that you liked him; the other, was that you didn't and that you only saw him as a friend, he longed too much for the first option but he wouldn't be dissatisfied with the second, it all depended on how things turned out when he walked through the door in front of him.

Kiyoomi inhaled and exhaled, filling himself with courage before placing his hand on the doorknob. 

But that burst of bravery he was able to fill himself with was interrupted by the twin, who stopped him with a grip on the wrist.

"Don't touch m-" He didn't finish his sentence since Atsumu put something cold in the palm of his hand. 

"Here." Atsumu whispered and Kiyoomi looked at the object, frowned in confusion when he realized it was a key. "It's the key to the guest room. Use it wisely."

Use it wisely? What did that mean?

"Why would I want to-" Kiyoomi started, but the twin interrupted him, raising a finger to silence him. 

"Shh. Thank me when you're at the altar and I'm your best man. Let's go inside." 

And just like that, Atsumu grabbed his arm to pull him inside the house.

Bruno Mars' voice was blaring from the speakers in the living room, people were singing at the top of their lungs, drinking and dancing, evidently having a good time. Sometimes Kiyoomi wondered how the twins knew so many people, there were so many guests that they had to push their way through the crowd to get to where you were still standing by the kitchen area, looking spectacular as ever as you talked to your friend.

As if you sensed his presence, you turned your face and your eyes met, causing Kiyoomi's heart to skip a beat. Damn, was this a good idea?

"Here he is." Atsumu announced their arrival excitedly. "The Kiyoomi I was telling you about. Does he look familiar?"

Sakusa almost rolled his eyes, but the chuckle you let out at Atsumu's humor stopped him, "Yes, I think I know him." You replied, your eyes still fixed on the tall black-haired man in front of you. 

"Perfect!" He exclaimed, clasping his hands together enthusiastically. "Then, since there's no need for introductions, I'll leave you two alone." The twin said, patting him on the back before turning and leaving. 

"Yeah, me too." Your friend said, throwing you a mischievous look and copying Atsumu's action, losing herself in the crowd. 

Now that you were alone (if it could be considered "alone" in a room full of people), he wondered where the direct Kiyoomi was when he needed him. Say something, say something, say something, say something. He mentally shouted to himself, but he was so intimidated by your presence and the cute way you were looking at him that no words could formulate in his mouth. 

"Uh—, hi." He said after a few awkward seconds of silence, trying to play it cool by leaning against the kitchen island. 

"Hi." You replied with a smile and looked up at him, as if waiting for him to say something else, but at Kiyoomi's lack of response, you continued, "How are you?"

So fucking nervous, he wanted to say, but instead, a 'fine and you?' left his mouth. 

"Me too." You said, and he noticed how you bit your lip lightly, as if you were thinking of what to say before speaking again: "Um… did you do the homework for Monday?"

"Yes, and you?"

"Yup."

Fuck. This was pathetic. He was pathetic. If he were someone else, someone like Atsumu perhaps, he might have already charmed you with words, made you laugh and you would be having a more enjoyable conversation. 

After a sigh, you spoke again. "Are you drinking?"

"Yes." He said, raising his water bottle and feeling stupid a second later, obviously by that question you meant was he consuming alcohol. "Something like that. And you?"

"Something like that" You repeated his words, raising a glass goblet showing what appeared to be a cocktail. "It’s strawberry juice, goes with my costume, and I'm also driving tonight, so I can't drink too much."

"That's very responsible of you."

That's very responsible of you?!

Couldn't he think of something more stupid to say? Probably not. 

But if you thought his answer was stupid, you didn't give it away, since you giggled before saying, "I think it is."

In an attempt to divert attention from his very stupid comment, he took advantage of the information you gave him about the drink to salvage this interaction. "So— why the drink goes with the costume?" 

"You don't know who I am?" You asked, raising your arms to better show off your costume. It was very 2000s style. A pink tracksuit, a white blouse under it, also a necklace. 

"Uh— Paris Hilton?" He guessed, inwardly hoping he was right. 

You giggled again. "Almost. I'm Regina George's mom." You said, giving him a bump with your shoulder against his arm. And, amazingly, Kiyoomi for the first time did not find an unexpected physical contact upsetting. "What do you think? I didn't know who to dress up as and this was last minute."

"You look…" Divine. "Good."

"Thank you." As soon as your words were out of your mouth, he noticed how you stared at his outfit, squinting your eyes and making a tender gesture with your mouth that he had learned you did when you thought of something. "Come to think of it, you pretty much look like Damien in that hoodie. You should just add some sunglasses." You added after a few seconds, pointing to the blue fabric covering his body. 

Kiyoomi frowned. Damien? Who the fuck was Damien and why he looked like him? 

“Who?” He asked. 

“Damien? The guy who shows up in the middle of the gym scene? With the blue hoodie and glasses? You haven't seen Mean Girls?”

The tone in which you said it made him regret having refused his cousin’s offer to see that damn movie a few months ago. 

"No, I've only heard of it." He admitted with a shrug.

Surprisingly, you smiled at his response, "It's a classic. We should see it sometime."

We should. A half smile appeared on his face at the word we. "Yes, we should."

"Um, do you wanna go watch the beer pong game?"

—

Two hours later, Kiyoomi found himself having what was perhaps the longest conversation with a girl of his life, and the one he had enjoyed the most. 

After awkwardly breaking the ice and watching Atsumu lose (two times in a row) in beer pong, you moved to the living room, where you luckily found space on the couch where you had been sitting since then. 

Kiyoomi leaned back against the couch, his elbow resting on the armrest as he listened intently to you recount an embarrassing childhood memory that had him chuckling softly. The sight was rare, and his friends’ curious stares only made it rarer, he knew they were probably losing their minds right now, but he tried to ignore them, though, focusing instead on the way your eyes lit up when you spoke. You were magnetic in a way he hadn’t expected, and the realization only deepened the smile tugging at his lips. God, how much he regretted not having the self-confidence to talk to you in this way much earlier. 

“Okay, your turn.” You said, nudging his knee lightly with yours.

“My turn?”

“To tell me something embarrassing. Come on, don’t hold out on me now.” You teased, leaning just a fraction closer.

Kiyoomi let out a low groan, feigning reluctance. “Fine. But you owe me for this.”

As he started to recount a story about an unfortunate middle school haircut incident, his voice grew more animated, his laughter trying to break through every now and then, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the room melted away.

The conversation flowed naturally, but there was an underlying tension, an awareness that neither of you could ignore. When he finished his story, you both fell into a comfortable silence, your knees still brushing against each other.

“Is it me or the twins keep staring at us?” You asked out of the blue, pointing with your head to a spot behind Kiyoomi, who didn't even want to bother turning around—because most likely no, it wasn't you—but still did, finding both twins pretending to look away before going their separate ways, Atsumu bumping into someone in the attempt. 

He sighed deeply, his lips pressing into a line. “Ignore them. They’re just… nosy.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Nosy about what?”

His face turned a faint shade of red, and he leaned back, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Kiyoomi didn't want to, but he would tell you the truth. “Probably that I'm talking to a girl.”

You chuckled, maybe finding his bashfulness endearing. “Do you not talk to girls often or something?”

“No.” He said, pretending that the admission didn't make him feel a little embarrassed.

“And is there any special reason why I'm the lucky one?” 

Kiyoomi hesitated, his gaze flickering to yours before dropping to where your knees touched. His mind raced for an answer, but nothing felt sufficient—not for what he was feeling, not for why you had captivated him so completely.

“You're… different.” He finally said, his voice quieter than before.

“Different how?” You asked, your tone teasing but your eyes soft with curiosity.

He let out a breath, his hand brushing against his neck again, “You're easy to talk to. Genuine. And you're…” He stopped himself, shaking his head with a self-conscious laugh.

“I'm what?” You prompted, leaning in slightly, your voice coaxing.

“You're just… you. And I like that.”

Your playful expression softened into something warmer, and the space between you felt even smaller. “That's probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me, Kiyoomi.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The silence that followed wasn't awkward—it was charged, alive with a tension neither of you could deny anymore. His hand, resting between you on the couch, shifted slightly, his fingers brushing yours. The touch was brief, almost hesitant, but it was enough to make you glance up at him.

In that moment, something unspoken passed between you—an understanding, a shared want that neither of you could ignore any longer.

Kiyoomi leaned in slowly, his movements deliberate, as if savoring every second leading up to the moment his lips met yours. When they did, the kiss was soft, tentative at first, but it quickly deepened as the world around you faded into the background. He wasn't an experienced kisser, he hadn't done it enough times in his life to consider himself one, but he let instinct guide him, following your rhythm. It was slow and even sweet, he could taste the flavor of your gloss. Strawberry. Maybe the same one he always saw you applying in the middle of class and now decided it was his new favorite flavor. 

Kiyoomi doesn't know at what point the kiss became a little more intense. He could feel you pressing into him as you pulled one of your legs up onto his lap. He was so immersed in the kiss that he even forgot where he was, in the middle of a party, on an old couch surrounded by strangers and friends. 

This same realization also seems to have reached you, because at that very moment you broke the kiss. And even though only seconds had passed, he already missed the feeling of your lips against his. 

“Well—” You said, your voice light but still a little shaky. “I think your friends will definitely have something to talk about now.”

Kiyoomi chuckled softly, his thumb grazing over your knuckles. “Let them.”

You looked into his eyes and smiled at him, you looked very pretty with your slightly swollen lips and bright eyes. At that moment, Kiyoomi wondered if this was real or some dream, he was almost certain that his eyes betrayed how madly smitten he was by you. 

“Kiyoomi,” You said, your voice breaking him out of his thoughts.

He tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching in curiosity. “Yeah?”

Your next words, simple yet charged, left him momentarily stunned.

“Can we go somewhere else?”

—

When Atsumu gave him the key to the guest room, he never thought he would actually use it. But here he was, with a very excited you at his side waiting for him to open the door. He really hoped you wouldn't ask why he had that key, because he knew he didn't want to lie to you as he also knew he didn't want to give you the explanation.  

After he opened the door, he stepped aside to let you in first before passing behind you. And something that caught him off guard was, when he barely closed the door behind him, you were quick to lock it before you put your hands on his cheeks to kiss him again. This time hungrier, more passionate. 

You were a good kisser, too good. And that only made Sakusa more nervous than he already was, he knew what you wanted, he knew where this was headed. And even though he wanted it too, the reality is that he had no idea what the fuck to do. 

His body was tensing up, overthinking the situation. He was not experienced in this area, not at all.

Still, he tried to keep up with you, walking backwards as you kissed him until he fell into a sitting position on the bed. 

In a matter of seconds, Kiyoomi watched as you took off your pink sweater, staying only in your tank top which didn't cover you for long, since you took it off immediately, leaving a very nice white bra in sight. 

It would be a lie to say that Kiyoomi was not hard. Because he was. Perhaps much harder than he had ever been in his life. 

“I really wanted to do this.” You said, and without even giving Kiyoomi time to process what you just confessed, you kissed him again, took both of his hands and brought them to your breasts as you straddled his lap. 

Kiyoomi almost choked when he felt your soft breasts under his palms, but instead of doing something with his hands, he stayed still, afraid to make a move you might not like. 

He was frustrated with himself. He literally had the girl of his dreams all over him, kissing him, letting him touch her after admitting that she wanted to do this and he just did nothing. 

Just relax, he told himself. Let yourself go. 

But his body seemed to betray him again the moment your hands went to his pants with the intention of unbuttoning them, because the first reaction he had was to stop you while from his mouth escaped a “Wait.”

“What happened?” You asked, your brow furrowed, obviously confused by his sudden reaction. 

C'mon, Kiyoomi, just tell her. She's an angel, she will understand. 

“I don't know how to say this.” He mumbled, almost to himself. Still, he took a deep breath, encouraging himself to speak. “I, uh- I don't-” He tried to explain himself, but before he could complete the sentence, you interrupted him.

“You don't want to do this, do you?” You spoke softly, Kiyoomi looked up, meeting your face which had an expression full of disappointment. 

His stomach turned over, no, no, no, no. You had misunderstood. “Y/n, that wasn't what—”

You quickly got up from his lap and bent down to pick up your shirt, “It's okay, I just-” Your voice broke as tears escaped your eyes and Kiyoomi felt like he wanted to kill himself at that moment, “I just want you to know that I'm not usually like this, but, when Atsumu told me that you liked me I thought that— I'm sorry, this is embarrassing.” The words rushed out of your mouth as you put your clothes back on. 

Kiyoomi would ignore (for now) that Atsumu really told you that he liked you literally only minutes after he admitted it, he would kill him later, now his main priority was you and clearing up this mess as soon as possible. 

“Hey, wait.” He said, holding you by the wrist to keep you from turning around and leaving. “I'm sorry. This is a misunderstanding, just, listen to me for a minute.” 

You looked at him silently before turning to face him again. 

He took a deep breath before continuing, “I like you, too much. I've been for a long time. And believe me when I tell you I really want to do it.” He admitted, and before you could say anything, he continued, “It's just that, I’m really fucking nervous. I— I've never done this.” His last words came out in a lower tone due to nerves and perhaps some embarrassment. But there was no turning back now. 

You looked at him for a few seconds, blinking at him before asking, “Done... what?”

“This.”

“Oh. Are you a…” You said, leaving the last word up in the air, but he mentally finished it for you, knowing full well what you were going to say.

A virgin.

“Yes.” He confirmed it. 

You were silent, and although it was somewhat dark, Kiyoomi could tell the shock on your face. He understood. If he were you, he might have been surprised too, since it's a fact that not many people expect. 

Kiyoomi was silent as well, silently mourning for himself. Thinking that maybe he ruined everything and a part of him was afraid that you would make fun of him. But the truth is that he was more worried if you left, how would he look at your face after that? He wouldn't be able to. It looked like he would have to take back the plan to leave that class and move to another country, which was a shame, because everything was going so well. 

His thoughts were interrupted when out of nowhere you let out a chuckle. 

“I'm kind of dramatic, don't you think?”

What? 

“I rushed to think that the reason you were a little tense and decided to stop was because you didn't like me, I never imagined that it was because you were… nervous. I'm really sorry, Kiyoomi.”

“Hey, It's okay, don't apologize. ” He said before taking both of your hands in his, “I should do it for not saying it from the beginning.”

“I didn't even give you the time to do it, I rushed too much, I should have taken it slower. But, I was excited, I mean, I just found out that the guy I like, likes me too.”

Okay, this is the second time you've admitted that you liked Kiyoomi. And wow, it felt fantastic to hear it, it felt so good and surreal at the same time that after all, it seemed that his feelings were indeed reciprocal. 

“I think I ruined the mood.” You said in a chuckle, making Kiyoomi frown. “It's okay if you want to stop.”

He didn't want to stop, in fact, he felt quite the opposite. He wanted to do it, with you and only you. So he didn't think much of it when he asked, “Do you?” 

“Huh?”

“Do you want to stop?”

He watched you bite your lip lightly before responding in the most adorable voice ever, “No.”

“Me neither.”

You looked at each other for a few more seconds before you wrapped your arms around his neck to bring your lips together again. The kiss was slower, and for some reason it felt much more intimate. 

Kiyoomi returned his hands to your waist, now feeling more comfortable enough to caress you with his thumbs before slowly moving down your hips to your thighs, you seemed to understand what he wanted, because you automatically straddled his lap again. 

After the awkward moment you just spent, his erection had softened, but when he felt your center against his crotch, combined with the kiss becoming more passionate, his dick soon got hard again. You felt it, of course you felt it. That must have been why you began to move slowly over him, brushing your sex against his, which caused Kiyoomi to moan against your mouth.  

Kiyoomi by this point felt more comfortable, perhaps more confident, so he dared to run his hands up your sides until he reached the hem of your blouse. 

“Can I take it off?” He asked after breaking the kiss, and you looked so cute when you let out a giggle and nodded before raising your arms as Kiyoomi pulled up the fabric. 

Your bra came back into view, but not for long, as you brought your hands behind your back to unfasten it to let it fall to the side—Kiyoomi thanked mentally for this because he was sure it would have taken him quite a while to remove it by himself—.

The light coming through the window was enough to appreciate you well, which he was grateful for, because he really didn't want to miss any detail of seeing you this way. His thumbs went up to caress your nipples, which were erect and looked too cute. It was a gentle touch first before cradling both breasts in his hands and squeezing them gently. 

“Can I...?” The question was lost in his throat, somewhat shy even to speak during this moment. 

“Kiyoomi,” You said his name, grabbing him by the cheeks to make him look at your face, perhaps so he would be a hundred percent sure you meant what you were about to say, “You can do anything you want to me. If I don't like something, I promise I'll tell you, okay?”

He looked at you for a few seconds before answering, appreciating your face completely, from your eyes to your lips. God, you were so beautiful. “Okay.”

Kiyoomi kissed your neck and left a small peck on your collarbone before taking one of your nipples into his mouth. He took it slowly, running his tongue softly over it before sucking gently, and somehow he felt proud of himself when you let out a little moan and brought your hand to his black curls. 

He took his time, enjoying the taste of your skin in his mouth as he switched from one nipple to the other and finding delight in the little sounds you made until he felt eager for more. When he parted his lips from you, it was to remove his hoodie and t-shirt in one motion, letting them fall to the floor. 

“Wow,” The expression came out of you almost automatically at the sight of his body. Your delicate hands went to his biceps, making a path along his skin, past his shoulders to his chest. “How can you be so hot?”

Your words caught him off guard, so he couldn't help the laughter that came out of him. “You think?”

“Of course, just look at you.” Your hands followed their trail, down his abs to his v-line, at that moment he knew what you would do next. You settled on his thighs, leaving more space between his crotch and yours, then lowered your hand to the noticeable bulge in his pants. 

Kiyoomi almost moaned when you stroked him and almost choked on his own saliva when your thumb circled the tip, god, he knew he was leaking and hoped it didn't feel in his pants. 

It was the moment you squeezed him, that something changed inside him, he felt eager for more, and although he didn't want to rush this, he dared to bring your lips together again and, placing a hand on your lower back to keep you from falling, he turned around to lay you down on the bed. 

When he felt your hands on the edge of your pants, he decided to break the kiss and positioned himself in the middle of your legs to help you complete the action, pulling the fabric gently down your legs to drop them on the floor. Fuck. He gave himself the pleasure of admiring for a moment your beautiful form in front of him, in nothing but underwear, and practically giving yourself to him. If he was dreaming, he will kill whoever wakes him up.

His hands went up your thighs until they reached the edge of your underwear to start pulling it down, you raised your hips to help him and that was the moment where Kiyoomi saw for the first time your pussy. He gulped when in top of that, you spread your legs just as he finished removing the garment, exposing you completely to him, letting him see all of you. 

Now, what was he supposed to do? Sakusa was not completely uneducated on the subject, he knew where he was supposed to touch or even kiss. But he also knew that knowing it wasn't the same as doing it. So he preferred to be honest and let you guide him rather than try to do something he wasn't entirely sure you would like. 

“I really want to make you feel good, but, can you just…” For some reason (embarrassment) the words were lost in his throat. 

“Guide you?” You finished the sentence for him. 

“Something like that.” He mumbled. 

You smiled with what Kiyoomi guessed would be tenderness before taking his hand and guiding it to the middle of your legs. 

The first touch almost knocked the wind out of him and made his erection press harder against his pants, fuck, you were so wet and he could hardly believe it was because of him. 

Sakusa leaned forward with one arm by the side of your head, meeting your face a few inches from his as you whispered to him how to please you. He circled your clit at the speed you liked, thrusting his fingers in and out, hitting that sensitive spot inside you that you helped him find, enjoying the moans that came from your beautiful lips and the way one of your hands squeezed his shoulder with pleasure. 

You kissed him the moment you started to cum on his fingers, your legs even trembled and Kiyoomi had never felt so proud of himself. He kissed you with the same desire, not ceasing to give you pleasure until you asked him to stop because of over stimulation. 

“God… you're so beautiful.” The words came out of their own accord as he looked down at you. 

“You think?” You smirked. 

“Every day.” 

“I never thought you'd see me that way, you know?” Those words were kind of funny coming from you. The girl who was the dream of many. Including his own. 

“Why?” 

You shrugged, a playful glint in your eyes as you leaned slightly closer. “Because you’re you, Kiyoomi. Cold, composed, and…” You paused, pretending to think. “Kind of scary sometimes.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, but the small smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement. “Scary?”

“You know what I mean.” You teased. “You’re just… untouchable. Like, you don’t even notice anyone half the time.”

Kiyoomi chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “I notice you.”

Your smile faltered for a second, replaced by something softer, something real. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He said. “You’ve always stood out to me. Even when I tried to act like you didn’t.”

You tilted your head, your expression thoughtful. “Why did you try to hide it?”

He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck as he glanced away for a moment. “Because… I didn't think I'd ever have a chance. I thought you were way out of my league.”

Your laugh was soft, light, and you reached out to gently take his hand. “Kiyoomi, you're ridiculous.”

“Am I?”

“Absolutely.” You said, patting his bicep lightly. “Because if you had just talked to me sooner, you'd know I've been trying to get your attention for ages.”

His eyes widened slightly, his lips parting as he tried to process your words. “You… what?”

You grinned, leaning in just enough that your noses almost touched. “I've always liked you, Kiyoomi. I just didn't think you'd ever notice.”

Kiyoomi stared at you, his heart pounding in his chest, before his lips quirked into a lopsided smile. “Guess we're both ridiculous, then.”

“Guess we are.” You murmured, and this time, it was you who closed the distance, your lips brushing his in a kiss so soft and sweet, the total opposite of the words that came out of your mouth next, “Now, please fuck me before I lose my mind.” 

Of course he would, his mind and his cock couldn't hold back any longer. 

“Just. Let. Me. Take– Take these off.” He said between kisses as you wouldn't let go, insisting on keeping his lips on yours with your palms on his cheeks. 

Kiyoomi did his best to remove his jeans and underwear in one go without breaking the kiss, but in the end, he had to do so (albeit unwillingly), when the last of his clothes were on the floor and the two of you were completely naked, to say something he remembered at the last minute. 

“I don't have a condom.”

This was bad, unfortunately Kiyoomi didn't carry any with him right now. The only one he used to carry in his wallet (just in case), he ended up giving it to Atsumu two weeks ago at a party, since at the time, the twin needed more than he did. Now he regretted it. 

You looked at him for a moment, processing his words before saying, “I don't care if you don't care.” 

“Are you sure?” He asked, astonishment radiating from his face.

“Very sure.”

Kiyoomi gulped before nodding, nervous about what was coming next. 

He took his cock in his palm, giving himself a few gentle strokes before lining himself up with your entrance. Your hand went to the middle of your bodies to replace his hand with yours and he heard you gasp at the feel of his shaft. 

“God, how— Kiyoomi, are you telling me you're a virgin with a dick like this?”

Kiyoomi couldn't help but let out a laugh, this was one of the things he liked most about you, how you spoke your mind bluntly. 

“I guess so.”

“Well, I wanted you to put it in in one go. But I guess we'll have to go slow.” You teased, adjusting your hips as you continued to slowly stroke his dick. 

Kiyoomi moaned as he felt your wet entrance meeting his leaking tip. He already felt in heaven and he wasn't even inside you yet. 

He placed both of his arms beside your head, looking down at you as he slowly thrust his hips forward, moving deeper into you. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This felt so good. You felt so wet, so hot, so tight that he had to mentally beg his cock not to cum soon, he couldn't embarrass himself like that. 

He pressed his lips against your forehead, kissing casually as he heard you moan as you took him in. “Does it hurt?” He asked, still with half of his dick out of you. 

“A little.” You admitted and that worried Kiyoomi, who was about to pull out, but you spoke first. “But it feels so good, just keep going, it'll fade away.” 

He nodded and continued to enter you until he was completely inside you. He had to press his forehead against yours, closing his eyes for a moment at the new feeling he was experiencing. 

“How does it feel?” He heard you ask after a minute, your sweet voice filling the silence where only your breaths could be heard. 

“Too good. Fuck. I don't think I'll last long.” He admitted, somewhat embarrassed, but still eager for more. “Can I— fuck—can I move?”

“Yes, please.”

Slowly at first, he began to move his hips, enjoying the feel of your wet walls squeezing him. Kiyoomi couldn't believe he missed out on this pleasure for so long, but he was glad that the one he was experiencing it with for the first time was you. 

He looked down at you, paying attention to your face and appreciating your expressions with adoration radiating from his eyes. How you bit your lower lip, how you opened your lips slightly, how you closed your eyes, how you smiled when you made eye contact. 

You whispered in his ear to go faster, and without a second thought, he complied with your request. He slipped both of his arms under your armpits to hold on tighter and began to thrust so hard that even the bed began to hit the wall. Thank goodness there was a party going on downstairs and the sound of the bed along with the sound of your moans would not be heard by others. 

“Kiyoomi…” You moaned his name, sounding like an angel as you did. Your hands went behind his back, holding him tightly against you and he even felt your nails digging lightly into his skin. He couldn't resist bringing your lips together again, kissing you sloppily as he moved in and out of you. 

He felt you squeeze him as your moans increased before he brought one of his hands to the middle of your bodies, circling messily over your clit, bringing you to the edge. Your legs trembled and a cute moan left your mouth as you came. Kiyoomi also moaned against your lips, you squeezed him so deliciously that he was surprised he didn't explode at that moment, but he knew he wasn't far from it. 

“I'm going to…” The words were lost in his throat as he felt his own orgasm so close. He was panting like crazy, holding you tighter against him as he settled his head in the crook of your neck and his thrusts became more intense. 

“Don't pull out, please.” 

His common sense told him that was irresponsible, but his desire along with how sexy it was to hear you say those words were stronger, because when he least realized it, he was cumming inside you— and it felt good, too good. Nothing compared to the orgasms his hand had so far provided. God, he might get addicted to you after this. 

The room fell into a silence, where only your accelerated breathing and the music muffled by the door could be heard. You both refused to move for a few moments, enjoying the touch of your skin and the vital sounds of each other. 

The dim light slipping through the windows painted faint shadows on the walls, highlighting the way your bodies pressed together. Your skin against his was warm, electric, like a spark neither of you wanted to break. Time felt like it slowed, stretching out as you both stayed perfectly still, caught in the pull of the moment. He could feel your heartbeat under his touch, steady and grounding, blending into the quiet rhythm of your breaths.

“So, how was it?” You broke the silence, stroking his back with your fingertips. 

Kiyoomi couldn't help but let out a chuckle in the midst of his quickening breath, “Mind blowing.” 

“I agree.”

Kiyoomi propped himself up on his forearms, his eyes meeting your adorable face, and he couldn't help but smile softly. He leaned down to press a quick, gentle kiss to your lips before settling down beside you. With an easy, natural motion, he slid a hand to your waist, pulling you closer to him. Now, with your head resting on his chest, he held you with the kind of tenderness that made the moment feel too perfect to let go of.

As the quiet rhythm of his breathing filled the room, Kiyoomi looked down at you, nestled against his chest. He absentmindedly traced gentle circles on your back with his fingers, his mind lingering on the softness of the moment. The warmth of your presence and the steady rhythm of your breathing calmed him, but his mind refused to settle.

He couldn't stop replaying the events of the night—the way your presence had lit up the room, the way you spoke with such ease and authenticity, and how natural it felt to be by your side. For someone who usually kept people at a distance, you had somehow bypassed every barrier he'd carefully built.

The thought made his chest tighten, but not with unease. With something new. Something he wanted to hold onto.

He glanced down at you, his heart catching at the way your eyelashes fluttered as you blinked sleepily. He knew moments like this didn't come often—not for him. And he knew it— he wanted more. 

But would you want that, too?

The doubt lingered for only a second before he pushed it aside. Tonight had been proof enough that whatever this was, it was mutual. And if he didn't take a chance, he'd regret it.

Gathering his courage, he took a breath, his voice low and steady as he broke the silence.

“Hey.” He began, the faintest hint of shyness lacing his tone. “Do you have plans tomorrow?”

You smiled, your cheek still resting against his chest. “Not yet. Why?”

“I was thinking…” He hesitated for a beat, then pressed on. “Maybe we could go out. Just the two of us.”

Your eyebrows lifted slightly, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Are you asking me on a date, Sakusa Kiyoomi?”

“Yeah.” He said. “I want to take you somewhere nice. Anywhere you want.”

You reached up to brush a strand of hair from his face. “I'd love that.”

His lips curved into a small, genuine smile, relief flickering across his expression. “Good. I'll make it worth your while.”

“You already are.”

spoiler: sakusa didn’t know it yet, but atsumu will actually be the best man a few years later.

[accioharrington9]

we can't be friends (but i'd like to just pretend)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

prompt: four times you spent a holiday with your best friend Steve Harrington and one time you didn't and missed him.

word count: 10.2k

warnings: friends-to-lovers, everyone can see it (including steve and reader but they're both kind of in denial), mutual pining, characters in their mid-twenties, fluff and (some) emotional angst, steve uses a cheesy nickname for reader, mentions of partying and alcohol consumption, some swearing, no use of y/n

notes: hi all, this is the first reader fic that i publish here, so bear with me, i tried my best <3 in light of the year-end celebrations, this fun little idea of a fic came to me and i decided to give it a shot, so i hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it <3

🥂🥂🥂

“What are your resolutions for the new year?”

You looked up from your glass of champagne when Steve asked you that question out of the blue. You were both leaning against the kitchen island at Nancy and Jonathan’s apartment, distractedly observing your friends playing a drinking game you had both stepped out of.  You were glad to allow your friends their fun, but mostly, to have a reason to get some alone time, just the two of you. A silent agreement, as always.

“You know I don’t believe in resolutions,” you answered before bringing a flute smudged by your red lipstick to your lips.

“Oh, come on, kitten, humor me for a second.”

You raised an eyebrow at him while he waited for your response with a cheeky smile. You heard Robin burst into laughter from the living room, but you were too focused on Steve’s loose strand of hair and the woody scent of his new cologne to acknowledge it.

“Fine,” you obliged him. “Well, I resolve to quit drinking coffee, exercise more, and buy a new and well-functioning car.”

“You’re full of shit,” Steve laughed. “Like you’re ever going to get rid of Gina.”

“Of course I’m not getting rid of Gina, she’s my ride-or-die,” you said, referring to your personified old car.

“Yeah, emphasis on ‘die’ – you're missing a rearview mirror in there.”

You nudged him playfully, briefly losing your balance but Steve helped steady you immediately, putting a hand on your hips that hovered there longer than necessary. You chuckled for good measure but couldn’t help the heat that rushed to your face.

Everyone knew you and Steve had a thing for each other. It had been that way since high school – lingering looks in the hallway between classes, overly tactile during a mundane conversation, pretending to forget something at the other’s house to have a reason to go there again… Everyone knew it, was used to it, and never mentioned anything about it – you and Steve included.

Nothing had ever happened because the timing was always off. If it wasn’t Steve who was dating someone, you were; then you moved away to go to college, and when you came back to Hawkins after graduating, Steve had just left for an internship in New York. Eventually, you grew tired of the never-ending “what-ifs” and made your peace knowing that Steve Harrington would always be more than just a friend but less than a lover. A fine line you both tiptoed in and out of too much over the past eight years.

“What about you?” you eventually asked Steve. “You’re corny as shit, you must have a lot of them resolutions in mind.”

“I only thought of a couple, and they’re not that corny.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

Steve laughed again, running a hand through his hair as he reflected on what he’d say. You admired him while he did so. It was frustrating, still having that teenage crush on your longtime friend, not being able to let it go, not entirely at least. You sometimes wished you could be his friend the way Robin was to him, or Eddie was to you. It would make it all so much easier, so much less painful than this in two minds you were both stuck in, this blatant desire for more, this fear that it could all be ruined in seconds, poor decisions fragmenting the illusion of a blissful friendship.

“I thought about learning how to play the guitar.”

“Cliché,” you teased. “What else?”

You could see the turn the conversation had taken when Steve hesitated before talking – looked nervous, even.

“Moving out. Getting my own place.”

You stared at Steve, quiet. You couldn’t say you were surprised – he’d been roommates with Eddie since they both enrolled in community college a few years ago. Even after graduating and getting a job, they stayed that way, because it was simple; splitting the bills, having someone to talk to after a lonely day. But it could only work for so long. It was only a matter of time until one or the other got bored and needed a change of scenery. To you, it was no surprise Steve had that revelation first.

“You sound serious,” was the only comment you could express.

“Because I am,” Steve said. “I started looking at one-bedroom apartments to rent in the neighborhood.”

“Does Eddie know?” you asked.

Steve pursed his lips as he shook his head from left to right. You hummed and couldn’t help but look at the young man in question, with his curly hair tied back in a bun and his poor imitation of some football player his team had to guess the name of. You loved this friend group – you loved the dynamic, the hijinks, and the stability. You loved hanging out with Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan at Eddie and Steve's apartment. You loved everything about it and the thought of losing your bearings, of disrupting your habits, made you too sad for the 31st of December, five minutes away from another midnight of confetti, embraces, and promises.

“You’re the first person I told,” Steve eventually said, breaking the silence that had settled between you two. “I thought you could share some of that wisdom you have to advise me.”

You snorted, lazily knocking your shoulder against his arm. “You buttering up to me, Harrington?”

“Only if it’s working.”

You got lost in his beautiful brown eyes, aware of the subtlest things, like his pinky finger brushing your hand timidly, the mint toothpaste on his breath, or how perfectly he wore the sweater you gifted him. It felt so right, standing close to him and toying with the possibility of the unknown. It always did with Steve.

“Okay guys, it’s officially one minute away from midnight, gather ‘round!!” Nancy exclaimed, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention.

Reluctantly, you left the little bubble of peace and happiness you had created in the kitchen, Steve following closely behind. As you started counting down from ten, surrounded by all your closest and dearest friends, you only had eyes for Steve.

It had become a habit since you first celebrated New Year’s Eve with him years ago – you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d kiss you at midnight. It was a fantasy you’d entertained ever since you were eighteen, the final and first thought of each year that passed without ever becoming real. Each year, naively, you thought it’d be different. But each year, it was the same old song all over again.

As the clock struck midnight and cheers erupted among the friend group, you hugged everyone. You saved the best ‘til last, heart beating frantically as Steve wrapped his arms around you. You buried your face in his neck, getting drunk on his cologne – pathetic, disillusioned.

“Happy New Year, kitten,” Steve whispered in your ear before kissing your cheek – soft, tender, and terribly platonic, as usual.

“Happy New Year, Harrington,” you kissed his cheek in return, the trace of your lipstick leaving a mark on his skin like a temporary tattoo.

And you were too busy thinking about the undone to notice that this year, Steve held you in his arms a little longer than usual.

🌹🌹🌹

“Bro-lentine’s Day?”

“Is that one of those boys band they keep talking about on the radio?"

You held back a laugh at Steve’s question and Eddie’s comment regarding the odd suggestion Robin had just made. The four of you were waiting in line at a Wendy's drive-thru in Steve’s car, the crescent moon shining its feeble light in the night sky above.

“Why would you even think about spending Valentine’s Day with your loser single friends when you have a beautiful girlfriend you could shower with gifts?” Eddie asked, to which Steve, behind the wheel, concurred immediately.

“I mean, I obviously love you guys, but I mostly suggest that because Vickie’s working a night shift on the 14th and I figured it’d be nice to hang out together, the four of us, instead of just… I don’t know, being alone?” Robin admitted.

“Oh, so we’re your stand-ins?” Eddie exclaimed, feigning offense under your amused attention. “Classy, Buckley.”

“That sounds a hell of a lot like a pity party, Rob,” Steve pointed out.

You laughed along as Robin kept putting her foot in her mouth. It was often like that – Robin and Eddie gently bickering in the back seats while you exchanged knowing looks with Steve, in your designated seat at the front of the car.

The only difference was this time, when Steve searched for your eyes to have a silent laugh with you, you avoided his gaze, pretending to look in the distance, thinking about something you needed to say to him but couldn’t find the courage to.

“Okay, fine,” Eddie eventually yielded. “Let’s do this thing. But I have one condition – we go to Steve’s new apartment.”

“Excellent idea!” Robin exclaimed, enthusiastic.

“I told you guys, I’m not done unboxing my stuff, the place is a mess,” Steve argued as he started the ignition to move forward.

Robin rolled her eyes. “You say that like you have a thousand boxes.”

“It's his plethora of hair products - they take up a lot of room,” Eddie teased, which made Robin snort.

“You’re both hilarious, seriously, I can’t stop laughing,” Steve said with a straight face.

“So, it’s a deal,” Eddie said. “Bro-lentine’s Day at Steve’s new place – no, I’m sorry Rob, you’ll have to find another name, I hate how it sounds when it comes out of my mouth.”

“What do you think, babes?”

You only focused back on the conversation when Robin called your name, looking away from the constellations in the sky.

“Hmm? Oh, I’m sorry babes but count me out of this one,” you said with a sorry smile.

Robin laughed, thinking you were probably messing with her. Steve was driving slowly now that the line ahead finally seemed to clear.

“Right, because you have something better to do on Valentine’s Day, of course,” Robin joked while Eddie chuckled.

You tried not to take offense because you knew it was some innocent banter, but it didn’t stop you from frowning.

“Actually, yes, I do,” you contradicted. “I have a date that day.”

The car braked abruptly, causing a blast of horns from the vehicle behind and surprised yelps from the back seats.

“What the fuck, Harrington??” Eddie ranted. “That’s why I keep telling you you’re a shit driver, seriously, how did you manage to get your license, man?"

“Sorry, I got… distracted for a sec’,” Steve apologized.

You couldn’t bear to look Steve in the eye, so you toyed with the bracelets around your wrists and stared at your shoes, waiting for your friends’ reaction to the news.

“Is it someone we know?” Robin asked bluntly. “It’s the cute guy from the music shop at the mall, isn’t it? I knew he had a crush on you, you’re the only one who got Like a Prayer for half price.”

“It was… actually a twenty-percent discount,” you corrected, even though none of your friends cared about that information.

“Who even asks someone out on Valentine’s Day?” Eddie asked himself out loud. “We have three hundred and sixty-five days a year, why choose this nightmare of a commercialized day deliberately?”

“I think it’s cute,” Robin shrugged.

You attempted a smile, but it was nowhere near convincing. Robin and Eddie weren’t even paying attention to you anymore, discussing with each other the pros and cons of a first date on the 14th of February. You gathered the courage to look at Steve, decipher his expression. He might’ve been trying to get your attention a moment ago, but now, he was just staring in front of him, both hands firmly holding the lower part of the wheel.

“So, you’re really going to abandon me with these two idiots, huh?”

Your laugh at Steve’s rhetorical question was a mix of amusement and relief. If there was one thing that meant more than anything to you, it was the harmony between you two. You knew that as soon as you or Steve dated someone, that harmony was threatened. It had happened before. It was a fatality.

“You’ll be just fine,” you assured softly. “It’s just one night.”

Steve chuckled, finally making it to the pickup window. “Yeah, you’re right. Just one night. Easy-peasy.”

At that moment, you couldn’t have imagined that on the 14th of February, you’d find yourself knocking on Steve’s door at ten in the evening, makeup ruined by your disappointed tears, holding tight to your coat and shame in the cold evening air.

When Steve opened the door and saw you standing before him, he blinked at the unexpected sight of you sniffing and shivering.

“What are you doing here, kitten? Is everything okay?”

As soon as you heard Steve’s voice and the concern he displayed, it was out of your control – another tear rolled down your cheek.

“Oh no. Come here.”

You didn’t need to be asked twice- when Steve opened his arms at you, you dived in, letting him hug you tight, accepting his warmth and empathy.

“Dude stood you up?” Steve asked, voice muffled as his face was buried in your hair.

“Worse,” you said. “He was there.”

Steve huffed, because it could’ve been a funny anecdote if not for the dried mascara that ran under your eyes.

“So, we’re not going to the music shop again, huh?”

“I never said it was the guy from the music shop,” you pointed out.

“You never denied it either.”

You snorted and you felt Steve smile against your head. He was the first to part from your embrace, but you were under the impression he could’ve stayed like that much longer.

“What’s taking so long, dingus?” Robin shouted from the living room. “You need help with the pizzas?”

“It’s not the pizzas,” Steve retorted as you stepped inside the apartment.

Both Robin and Eddie turned around on the couch and looked equally surprised to see you there.

“Is it okay if I crash Bro-lentine’s Day?” you asked sheepishly.

“We’re not calling it that!” Eddie said in a singsong.

“You’re more than welcome to crash Bro-lentine’s Day, babes,” Robin told you while wrapping her arm around your shoulders as you sat next to her.

“I give up,” Eddie sighed before heading for the kitchen.

“What did the loser do to get you like that?” Robin inquired, touching your face where the tears had dried.

“Honestly, he wasn’t even that bad,” you explained. “He just… wasn’t what I expected. I guess I’m tired of getting my hopes up and ending up disappointed every time.” You paused, reflecting on that state of mind. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s not stupid,” Robin contradicted with a sympathetic smile. “It’s Valentine’s Day, anyone would’ve expected a perfect date.”

“Hence why you don’t date on that doomed day.”

“Can’t you just let it go already, Eddie??”

You smiled softly at your friends’ innocent quarrel, and you realized in the end, there were no other people you’d rather spend the day of love and romance with.

So, you settled comfortably on the couch in Steve’s new apartment, surrounded by dozens of wrapped boxes and your closest friends with a glass of wine and a cheesy movie to watch, sharing the details of your date with them.

“Well, his loss, darling, not yours,” Eddie said in conclusion to your story.

“Definitely,” Robin nodded.

You smiled lightly and you thought maybe, just maybe, they were right.

“Why are you smiling like that, Harrington?” Eddie then asked.

“Hmm? Oh, no reason,” Steve answered casually before finding a tiny spot between you and Robin on the couch.

🎉🎉🎉

There was nothing more frustrating than being late to meet your friends and having your car’s engine make that hideous sputtering sound as you kept putting the key in the ignition without it ever starting.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” you echoed in sync with the car’s noises.

“I see Gina’s being cranky today.”

You glared at Steve, sitting in the passenger seat and enjoying himself a little too much.

“It’s too hot outside, she doesn’t like it when it’s too hot,” you explained to yourself more than Steve.

“It’s the 4th of July, kitten. It’s always hot on the 4th of July.”

“Thank you so much for this enlightening forecast, Harrington, have you ever considered a career in meteorology?”

You bit your lip when you realized how harsh your comeback had sounded. You slowly turned your head to lay regretful eyes on your friend.

“Sorry,” you winced.

“You’re good. I think I know why Gina’s cranky today – she takes from her owner.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t bother denying it.

The sun was starting to set in a sky adorned with pink and orange hues only summer could take credit for. The air was hot, crickets chirping and bees buzzing while the whole town was already busying itself in preparation for the incoming festivities.

For the past six years, on Independence Day, you’ve met all your friends by the lake on the outskirts of Hawkins to have a barbecue with beers and watch the fireworks. It was a tradition you all honored religiously each Fourth of July.

Except this year, Robin was celebrating with Vickie’s family, Eddie was working at the music camp, which meant you were spending the evening with Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve, a group hangout that looked an awful lot like a double date, and it worked yourself up into quite a state.

“Did you get the Buds?” you asked Steve as the ignition still wouldn’t start.

“Packs in the trunk,” Steve answered straight off.

“And the blankets?”

“In the backseat.”

“The radio for the music?”

“Nance’s taking care of it.”

You fell back in your seat after failing one too many times to start the car and just closed your eyes, sighing heavily. You wiped your hands on your shorts, the summer heat getting the best of you, chest heaving and patience hanging by a thread.

“We can take my car tonight, maybe Gina needs the rest,” Steve suggested. It irritated you even more.

“We always take your car, tonight’s the one night a year we take mine,” you argued, putting the keys in the ignition again.

“We’ll take yours another time, then, it’s no big deal.”

“No,” you just said.

Without a heads-up, you got out of the vehicle. Steve followed you as you opened the hood to check the engine. You were rough in your endeavor, hair falling out on your face and hands quickly stained with oil.

“Why are you being so stubborn today?” Steve asked you, tone cutting sharp like a knife.

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are! You can tell as much as I can your car’s not going anywhere tonight, mine’s parked right behind and ready to go, so why are we losing time for nothing?”

“She’s just being picky right now but I’m getting there. She needs a little boost and she’s good to go,” you insisted, wiping the back of your hand on your forehead before realizing it’d smudge the oil.

“Yeah, sure, at this rate, she’ll be good to go for Thanksgiving,” Steve said ironically.

You shut the hood close abruptly, shooting daggers at Steve as he stood in front of you with his arms crossed. He looked just as irritated as you did.

“You’re being an asshole,” you stated matter-of-factly.

Steve snickered, eyebrows raising like he couldn’t believe what he just heard.

“Oh, I’m the asshole in this situation? You’re a fine one to talk!”

“Are you seriously turning the tables on me right now?!”

“I’m not, you’re clearly in a mood today and you’re taking it out on me! Last I heard, I’m not a punching bag!”

Your face twisted into a scowl because Steve annoyed you a great deal, but mostly because he was right. You were far from being good company today, and today was meant to be fun, chill, eventful. You could blame it all on Gina, but you knew that was just the tip of the iceberg.

“I’m just saying I’m going to get the car started just fine, all I need is a few minutes to figure it out. And we’re already late anyway, they won’t hate us for the extra ten minutes,” you said as you opened the hood again.

“This is not about the car and we both know it,” Steve stated, sure of himself. Of course, he was – he knew you like the back of his hand.

You closed the hood as soon as you opened it, walking closer to Steve to face him properly.

“Maybe you should take it easy if you want her to work, you know,” Steve remarked.

“Why don’t you just say what’s on my mind, Steve? Since you apparently know it better than I do,” you hit him with your words.

“But that’s just the thing! I don’t!” Steve exclaimed, his voice raising an octave. “I don’t know what’s going on with you right now and you won’t tell me a goddamn thing!”

“You already know what’s going on with me, I made it perfectly clear – I want my fucking car to start so we can go and meet our friends, as we do every year!”

“And I made it perfectly clear that we can take my car, so why are we still arguing about this??”

“Because it’s the way things are supposed to be!!”

The silence that followed that revelation felt intrusive. You couldn’t wait for Steve to tell you off, to argue with you some more, but instead, he didn’t say another word and just stared at you, dumbfounded. It allowed you to reflect on your behavior of the past ten minutes and you immediately dropped your eyes to look at your shoes, ashamed.

“What do you mean?” Steve asked you then, voice softer.

You sighed and looked in the distance, avoiding his gaze.

“It’s the tradition. On the 4th of July, you come to my place to help me pack everything, we take my car to pick up Eddie and Robin on the way to the lake, we meet Nance and Jonathan there, then, you and Eddie set the barbecue while Jonathan and I take care of the music, and Nance and Robin lay the blankets to make us cozy. And we eat and drink until they shoot the fireworks from downtown – it’s how the day is supposed to go.”

“Right, and it’s how it’s going to go today,” Steve assured, confused.

“No, it’s not. Rob and Eddie are not there this year, and because of Gina, we’re late and missing out on the sunset.” You paused, taking a breath. “It’s what I look forward to the most. Watching the sunset on the lake with you guys. All of you.”

Steve relaxed his shoulders and breathed out like he finally made sense of the underlying problem. He stepped closer to you and his hand cupped your face, willing you to look him in the eyes.

“Okay, I’m going to take a wild guess and assume it has something to do with Nancy and Jonathan talking about moving to Chicago next year for Nancy’s job,” Steve said. “Am I boiling or getting colder?”

The rhetorical question elicited a weak smile on your lips.

“I know Chicago’s not that far from Hawkins, but… I like the way things are right now, you know?” you explained while Steve listened, nodding. “I like that we can hang out whenever we want to, show up unannounced at each other’s place, and whatnot.”

“You can still do that if they move to Chicago. It’ll just take you more than three hours to get there,” he teased you.

Steve did it – he made you laugh. “I’m not so sure Gina would survive the trip.”

“I’ll let you borrow my car, then,” Steve whispered, and even though you were bantering, it sounded like a promise.

You chuckled, the knot in your stomach coming undone as Steve put his thumb to your forehead, stroking where you had wiped the oil stain earlier.

“You look like shit,” he told you unceremoniously.

“And you’re a shitty friend,” you bit back, making you both smile.

Friend. The denomination never felt strong enough to define what you and Steve meant to one another. Yet, it was the only one you used, the only one that brought you comfort, especially in those blurry moments that kept you wondering why that boy had always been so sweet and kind to you, even when you felt undeserving.

You jumped at the sound of a car honking from the street, bringing you back to reality as you and Steve turned your heads to see what happened. You felt amused, and somehow relieved when you saw Nancy popping her head out the passenger window of Jonathan’s car like a beautifully staged interruption.

“Oh my God, you guys are late too?” Nancy shouted at them. “I told Jonathan to go over the speed limit, and as you can imagine, he was not happy about it.”

Steve laughed, and you followed suit because it was almost ridiculous, how perfect the situation had turned out. Sure, things felt different this year, with winds of change impending, and the future of your friend group unclear. But at least, you were all on the same page.

“While we’re here, get in the car with us!” Nancy offered, gesturing for you to come closer. “Maybe we can still catch the sunset.”

You exchanged an amused look with Steve, silently agreeing that your uncooperative car and your latest conversation would remain a secret you’d share only between you. Your friends didn’t need to know the reason why you were late.

So, you and Steve hurried to put everything in Jonathan’s car, climbed in the backseat, and made it to the lake just in time to admire the remnant of sunset and put everything into place to wait for the fireworks.

And as you put a blanket over your and Nancy’s shoulders, the fire crackling in the quiet of the evening around you, you couldn’t help but search for Steve’s eyes. He was already looking at you, sitting across the fire next to Jonathan. You smiled when you realized, and he winked at you, playful, secretive.

Maybe you were lying to yourself, in the end. Maybe you didn’t mean it when you said you liked things the way they were. Maybe there was one thing you wouldn’t mind changing, you thought as you looked away from Steve to look up at the fireworks now erupting in the sky above.

🎃🎃🎃

“I’m not sure I get it, Robin – who are you dressed as?”

“Are you seriously asking me that question, Nance? Marty McFly? Don’t tell me you still haven’t watched Back to the Future!”

“I didn’t have time.”

“In five years, you didn’t have time to watch a two-hour movie?”

“I work a lot, okay?!”

You were only half-listening to Robin and Nancy’s bickering as you finished getting ready for the Halloween party that your high school classmate Tina and her best friend Vicki Carmichael threw every year.

Usually, on the 31st of October, you would just crash at Steve and Eddie’s former apartment with the group, stuffing your face with popcorn and watching horror movies. But this year, the boys didn’t live at that apartment anymore and it was the last Halloween you’d all spend together in Hawkins before Jonathan and Nancy moved to Chicago next January. You all agreed it called for a memorable celebration, hence why you were now getting ready with the girls at your place.

“So, you mean to tell me you haven’t had time to watch Back to the Future, but you had it to watch all three Star Wars movies, judging on your costume?” Robin asked while Nancy grunted in frustration.

“I told you last week, me and Jonathan are wearing couple’s costumes – he’s Han Solo and I’m Princess Leia, obviously,” she explained while pointing at her long white dress and peculiar hairstyle.

“Couple’s costumes,” Robin repeated. “Kids these days, they’re just talking nonsense.”

“It’s romantic and fun, you’re just jealous you didn’t think about it for you and Vickie,” Nancy retorted as you were starting to think you were in the middle of playground taunts.

“Oh yeah, I should’ve asked Vickie to dress as Doc, it would’ve been crazy romantic,” Robin sassed.

Once the heels were at your feet, you turned around on your chair to stare at your friends.

“You two realize how stupid your fight is, right?” you chipped in.

“We’re not fighting,” Robin and Nancy said in unison.

You rolled your eyes and turned back around to face your vanity and finish your makeup, but it was too late – you had involuntarily drawn the attention to you.

“And who are you dressing as, hot stuff?” Nancy cooed while smirking at your reflection in the mirror.

You hummed the Dirty Dancing theme song to answer her question, and she nodded approvingly, taking in your pink dress and silver heels.

“I love it,” Nancy smiled.

“Thanks,” you said as you stood up. “And you two look equally great, so stop biting each other’s heads off.”

“So, if you’re Jennifer Grey, does it mean Steve’s dressing as Patrick Swayze? I could see him pulling that off.”

Robin’s question took you aback for it came out of nowhere. You gaped at her, face warm and thoughts racing.

“Hmm, no, he’s not. That’d… be a great couple’s costume, for sure. But we’re not a couple, so…” you stammered, awfully self-conscious.

“Well, yeah, but you might as well be.”

“Robin,” Nancy reprimanded her with warning eyes.

“What??” Robin exclaimed while you watched, confused. “It’s not like she doesn’t know what I mean, it’s been going on for years, this… whatever this is. And honestly, we’re all tired of pretending like we can’t see it.”

Nancy blushed, embarrassment written all over her face as she rubbed a hand over it.

“I don’t… understand,” you admitted, tugging at the hems of your dress to anchor yourself in the moment.

“There’s nothing to understand, babes,” Nancy said softly. “Robin was just joking. Right, Rob?”

Nancy was now glaring at Robin, who had no option but to concur. It felt like you were missing something there, and you didn’t like it. Were your friends talking behind your back? Were they annoyed at your relationship with Steve? Annoyed at the ambiguity, the unsaid, the attraction? Was it all that obvious as of late?

“I’m sorry, guys,” Robin said with a sigh. “I had a fight with Vickie earlier today and it messed me up a little bit.”

“Oh, babes,” Nancy softened, hugging Robin from the side.

“I know that’s no excuse for being a jerk,” Robin winced in your direction.

“You’re all right,” you said with a sympathetic smile, and both Robin and Nancy seemed relieved.

The three of you talked Robin through her problem until it was time to meet the guys outside. Nancy was the first to exit the apartment, but Robin lingered by the front door, hand hovering hesitantly above the handle. Eventually, she made up her mind and turned over to face you.

“I just want you to know that I’m really sorry for earlier,” Robin told you.

“It’s okay, Rob, I get it. You were upset about your fight with Vickie and said stuff you didn’t mean. It’s fine, it happens to all of us,” you said, wondering why Robin had felt the need to bounce back on that.

“No, but see, that’s the thing – I did mean it,” she contradicted. “I just didn’t say it like I should’ve.”

“And how should you say it?” you asked with a frown.

Robin looked uncertain now, fidgeting where she stood. You imagined that if Nancy were still in the room with you two, she’d probably give Robin an earful.

“When I said that we’re all tired of pretending like we can’t see what there is between you and Steve, I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” she elaborated under your undivided attention. “It’s just… We’re your friends, and you know, as friends, we want what’s best for each other, I’m sure you feel that way about us too –“

“Robin, cut to the chase, please,” you interjected before she could lose herself in her explanation.

“We just think if you two admitted what you’re both obviously feeling for each other… You could be very happy together. And the rest of us would be too because damn, we’ve watched it happen since high school and it’s about time one of you does something about it, babes.”

You stared at the door behind Robin, wishing to run away from this conversation that was too much for you to handle. It was the first time one of your friends confronted you on the matter, upfront, and you had no idea how to react.

“I’m not expecting you to say anything, don’t worry,” Robin added. “I just wanted you to know what everyone else is thinking. Do what you want with that information.”

You opened your mouth to respond but you heard the distinctive sound of Eddie’s van parking on the street, your sign that it was time to go and end this conversation for good. You rushed to the door, opening it before Robin could and hurtling down the stairs to some extent on your heels. Once you were outside, you breathed in slowly, calming down and processing what one of your best friends had just confided to you.

You and Robin met Nancy on the curb as Eddie slid the van’s side door open to let you in the backseats.

“Evening, ladies,” Eddie greeted.

“Wow, you’re Elton!” Nancy exclaimed after studying Eddie’s costume, a white ensemble with feathers and glitter that was the singer’s signature.

“You could get that but not mine?!” Robin exclaimed, almost offended.

“Move on, Rob, and let’s have fun tonight,” Nancy teased her while sitting near Jonathan, dressed in the easily identifiable Han Solo outfit.

Robin took the passenger seat next to Eddie, leaving you with no choice but to sit next to Steve at the back of the van. Of course. Almost like it had been on purpose, you thought to yourself.

You settled next to him and you were almost insecure, something you’d never felt around him. You resented Robin for not knowing best, and not keeping her mouth shut.

“Hey, kitten,” Steve welcomed you as you smoothed the edges of your dress.

“Hey, Harrington,” you said in return, attempting to smile at him.

You studied his costume as he studied yours. Aviator sunglasses on his head, green jumpsuit, sleeves rolled back under his elbows – Maverick from Top Gun. You'd gushed over the character when the movie came out, and you wondered if it happened to be a funny coincidence or if Steve had picked that costume on purpose.

“Baby,” Steve suddenly said.

“What?” you choked out with widened eyes.

Steve frowned. “Your costume,” he clarified. “Baby from Dirty Dancing, right?”

You processed the information and chuckled awkwardly, feeling stupid. You let Robin get in your head and you hated it.

“Right,” you breathed out as Eddie drove away.

Something passed in Steve’s eyes, and you were not sure what it was. Hesitation, desire, resignation… You watched and waited, fingers laced on your lap, heartbeat echoing in your ears.

“You look… very nice,” Steve told you in a hushed voice.

You knew neither Nancy nor Jonathan could’ve heard it – they were engaged in a vivid conversation with Robin and Eddie in the front of the car. It was an intimate declaration, meant for you and you only.

Your lips parted subtly, but Steve’s eyes caught it regardless. It did not soothe the rate of your beating heart.

“Thanks,” you croaked it, throat tight. “You’re not too bad yourself."

Steve smiled briefly, then did the strangest thing. He leaned in, his face awfully close to yours, and you thought; this was it. He was going to kiss you. Right then, right there, in the back of Eddie’s van dressed as the guy from Top Gun on the way to a Halloween party.

And as much as you wanted him to kiss you, it wasn’t how you wanted him to do it. Not the place, not the time. Maybe Steve realized it too because he moved away as quickly as he had gotten closer to you, clearing his throat and watching out the window like nothing happened.

The party at Tina’s villa was loud, messy, and packed with former classmates – some you were glad to run into, others you made a strong case of avoiding. You had a nice chat with your high school sweetheart, even though you could feel Steve’s eyes on you the whole time. When you couldn’t bear the weight of his yearning gaze, you took a sip of that rum punch Vicki Carmichael had made – a few times.

You fled to the bathroom around eleven to freshen up and have some alone time. You were reasonably drunk, but still conscious enough to notice someone was already in the room when you barged into it.

“Oh, so sorry, I didn’t know someone was in there –”

You cut the apology short when you recognized the person’s reflection staring at you in the mirror.

“Becky, hi,” you said, surprised.

The girl greeted you back, the sound of your name imperceptible amid the party people shouting in the hallway. Now, you were reasonably drunk and very uncomfortable.

Becky was the last girl Steve had dated. They had been together for two years and seemed happy until Becky broke up with Steve overnight. Everyone assumed she’d probably met someone else, but you always felt like that was too simple and there was another more plausible explanation.

“You okay?” Becky asked you.

“Y – yeah, I just needed to cool off,” you mumbled.

You assumed Becky would urge you to clear off and leave her be, but instead, she stepped aside to give you some space in front of the sink.

You closed the door behind you and stood in front of the mirror, silently watching Becky perfect the mascara on her lashes. You quickly gathered she was dressed as Madonna in the Material Girl music video.

“It’s… been a while,” you said to break that awful silence. “What are you up to these days?”

“Small talk, huh? I thought we were way past that.”

You chuckled, ill at ease and too drunk to have a proper conversation. Out of all the girls Steve had dated, Becky was the one who unsettled you the most. You never knew what to expect of her.

“How’s Stevie?” Becky then asked before reapplying some lipstick.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was Becky's inquiry, but something turned your stomach. You always hated it when she called Steve that name. It reminded you of a jealous version of yourself you’d rather leave in the past.

“He’s good,” you said casually, no matter your inner turmoil. “You know. Same old, same old.”

Becky’s lips turned into the semblance of a smile.

“I take it you two still aren’t together.”

You felt your heart drop at that comment. What did she mean, “still”? And what was up with everyone and their insights regarding your relationship with Steve?

“It sounded a lot less petty in my head, I promise,” Becky said when you stayed silent.

“It’s not that,” you replied. “I’m just… surprised you would say that.”

Becky sighed and turned around to face you. It looked like she was about to get a lot of things off her chest, and you were not sober enough for that.

“You know why I broke up with Steve?” Becky asked you, and she obviously wasn’t waiting for an answer. “Why all the girls he dates eventually break things off with him?”

You blinked. You didn’t want Steve’s ex-girlfriend to share that information with you. You had absolutely no desire to detain such knowledge. Yet, you shook your head, permitting Becky to say what she really thought, too curious to pretend you didn’t care.

“Because it’s painfully obvious he’s in love with you and we’re just here passing time until he finally has the balls to tell you.”

In love. You had thought about it all with Steve – he thinks I’m pretty; he’s attracted to me; he likes me more than a friend. But never in your wildest dreams had you dared fantasize about these powerful little words.

He’s in love with you, Becky’s voice repeated like a broken record on a loop in your mind. Taunting, hopeful, too good to be true.

You found yourself sitting on the bathtub’s edge, both arms at your side, speechless. Becky leaned against the wall across from you and chuckled like she'd just shared the funniest story.

“Don’t tell me this is shocking news.”

“I…” you started without finishing your thought. You were at a loss for words and your head started spinning, the fateful sentence seeping into your mind faster than the liquor in your system.

“Look, obviously, it wasn’t my place to tell, but you know, despite everything, I always liked you,” Becky confessed. “You were always nice to me, even though I could tell it was not easy for you.”

You lowered your eyes, apologetic. It was true – you had always been nice to Becky. After all, it wasn’t the girl’s fault if you had feelings you’d never dare confess to your best friend.

“That’s why I’m telling you,” Becky resumed. “I’m trying to help you two out. This whole faint-hearted act was probably cute when you were sixteen, but you’re adults now. Are you waiting for him to get married and start a family with someone else to tell him how you feel?”

The mere thought made your heart ache. You didn’t want to picture Steve married to someone else. It made you nauseous.

“Sorry, that was harsh,” Becky apologized.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked her in a whisper, feeling like your head was about to explode. “Why are you telling this to me and not him?”

Becky stared at you like you’d just said the most nonsensical thing.

“Because he’s an idiot and a coward. If you’re waiting for him to make a move, you’ll wait a long time, honey.”

You spaced out for a moment, and when you returned to your senses, Becky was gone, leaving you alone with your spiraling thoughts in that bathroom.

Becky was right. Steve was an idiot and a coward. The inebriation clouded all your good judgments, so you got to your feet and walked out of the bathroom to look for Steve. After everything that happened tonight, you were confused, upset, and even angry.

You found him outside by the pool, joking around with some guys from his old swim team in high school. You marched to him, bold and determined, and he didn’t notice you right away, so you hooked your fingers to the fabric around his arm and dragged him behind you. You ignored the guys whistling at you both or Steve protesting and asking what had gotten into you until you walked into an empty room on the side of the villa and closed the patio door behind you.

“Okay, what the hell was that about??” Steve exclaimed, his voice loud in the quiet of the room, away from the party noises and the music. “Have you lost your shit??”

“You’re an idiot,” you told him in an accusing tone.

“Tell me about it,” Steve sassed you.

“And a coward!”

“Oh, so you have a whole list, huh?”

“That’s what Becky said.”

Steve looked at you in silence, processing what you just said.

“Of course, you talked to Becky….” he sighed. “Let me guess – she said I stole her INXS tape? She needs to let it go, she clearly lost it, she can’t keep blaming me for –“

“I don’t want you to get married, Steve,” you interrupted him, blurting out what you had been obsessing about for the last ten minutes.

Steve froze and looked at you like you were insane. And you might just be, you realized. You took a step back, dizzy and embarrassed.

“I… was not planning on getting married any time soon. Where is that coming from?” Steve asked you, stepping toward you.

You bit your tongue, holding from saying another stupidity you’d immediately regret. Suddenly, your choice to confront Steve and isolate yourselves in a bedroom didn’t look like the brilliant plan it seemed to be five minutes ago.

“Forget it, I’m drunk, and I don’t know what I’m saying,” you stammered, head low as you walked toward the door.

“Hey,” Steve brought you short by taking your hand before you had the chance to leave. His touch was tender, your hand fit perfectly in his, and you understood what Becky meant when she said "still not together".

“Talk to me,” Steve urged, lacing his fingers with yours. It was unbearable, how natural it felt. “You used to tell me everything, and now, I have no idea what’s up with you anymore.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, wishing you could go back in time and stop yourself from putting the two of you in this awful situation.

“Come on, kitten, we’re friends, you can tell me anything.”

Friends. You loathed the word that normally comforted you. You couldn’t stand to hear it.

He’s in love with you. How could he say you were friends when he was the one you called first when your car broke down, when he’d snuck out of college to comfort you after you got dumped by your ex-boyfriend, when he drove you across the country to see your sick grandfather for the last time? How did he have the audacity to minimize what you meant to each other after taking such a significant place in your heart for years and years?

“We’re not friends,” you mumbled.

You looked at him and thought you could see heartbreak in his eyes. You’d hurt him. You’d hurt him badly.

“We’re not?” he asked, his voice breaking in the inflection.

You held your breath as Steve questioned you with glistening eyes. He didn’t understand what you were trying to tell him, and it was killing you.

“You know what I mean,” you breathed out, unable to say the actual words.

He’s in love with you. It was so simple. Why couldn’t he just admit it?

You’re in love with him too, why can’t you say it?  you admitted to yourself.

Because no, it wasn’t that simple. Steve wasn’t the only coward in this situation. After all these years, it was so scary to admit, even more to say out loud. How could you expect him to say it when you were terrified of doing it yourself?

Eventually, Steve let go of your hand, an almost insignificant gesture that shattered your heart into a million pieces.

“Actually… No. I don’t know what you mean,” he said, defeated, before leaving the room.

You did it. You ruined everything, you thought as you sat on the floor and cried your heartbreak away.

🎁🎁🎁

It was supposed to be the merriest day of the year, with children's laughter filling the air and countless presents to unwrap. Yet, your heart was not in it, and you had to hold back tears during dinner that night at your parents’ house.

You hadn’t talked to or heard from Steve in almost two months, and it was officially the longest you’d spent without seeing each other. The thought was excruciating. He was your best friend in the entire world, you were head over heels in love with him, and the absence of him was like gasping for air on the verge of drowning.

But today was a merry day. Today was all about spending time together, eating a nice homemade meal, and reuniting. So, you played the part – you ate dinner, played board games with your cousins, and chatted with your uncles and aunts. You did what you were expected to do, and nothing more.

When you returned to your place, to your sad and lonely apartment, you sat down on the floor, still in your red party dress, back to your couch with a glass of wine, and flipped through a photo album Nancy and Jonathan had given you for your twenty-fifth birthday.

It was a recollection of happy times Jonathan had captured with his camera throughout the years – from graduating high school to renting your first crappy apartment, taking your first trip to New York with the group, and celebrating various occasions with them.

You took the last photo from the album, holding it between your fingers to get a closer look. It was a picture of you and Steve on New Year’s Eve the year before. You were posing for the camera, smiling from ear to ear. You were looking at the lens, but Steve only had eyes for you, holding you in his arms with rosy cheeks. When you looked at it like that, in retrospect and from another’s perspective, it seemed so evident that the guy in the picture loved the girl posing next to him.

You were fully crying now, blurry eyes and stuffy nose in contradiction with the holiday spirit. You were about to put the picture away in the album when something in the back of it caught your eye.

There was a note in the handwriting you would recognize anywhere at any given time – Steve’s. Your heart skipped a beat. It had gone unnoticed the first time you’d looked through the album at your birthday party and none of your friends had mentioned a thing about it. You started to look at a handful of pictures to see if others had something hidden on the other side, but they were all blank. All except for one.

You took a deep breath, pondering. Maybe Nancy and Jonathan were unaware of it, but Steve not saying anything didn’t make sense. This note had been there, forgotten in an album gathering dust in your bookcase, for months, and it could’ve gone on for years had you not felt nostalgic on that specific day.

You wondered if you should read it or pretend you’d never seen it. It was only a few words; they were probably some meaningless inside jokes or more personal birthday wishes. But they could also be something more, much more.

You knew you couldn’t live with the uncertainty, so you gathered your courage and read.

Happy birthday, kitten! Don’t know if you’ll ever see this, but I want you to know you’re my favorite person in the entire world, and I love you. Yours always, Steve PS: stop being a sourpuss just ‘cause you turned 25

It had been there. Right there, under your nose, all along. Yours always.

Before you could think it through, your coat was around your shoulders and you were behind the wheel, ready to drive to Steve’s place and tell him how you felt. Screw the stability and the uncertainty – you loved the boy too and you needed to tell him tonight.

It was past midnight, the air was cold and the streetlights reflected in the puddles on the pavement as you drove a little too fast toward Steve’s building. Your heart was racing in your chest, anticipation mingling with excitement while you rehearsed what you’d say in your head.

You were going to confess your true feelings to Steve. Nothing could scare you anymore.

Except, perhaps, the ominous sputtering sound your car made when you tried to restart at a traffic light.

“No, no, no, no, no, come on, not now!!” you begged desperately.

The ignition wouldn’t turn over, and you could’ve screamed at the sky. Was it some sort of cosmic sign preventing you from making the biggest mistake of your life?

You got out of the car to check the engine under the hood. When you opened it, it did something it’d never done before – it gave off fumes.

You coughed violently as you stepped away from the car, looking all around you and realizing you were alone on the street in the middle of the night with a kaput car and wasted opportunities.

“This is a nightmare,” you told yourself out loud. “This can’t be happening to me.”

Your eyes burned as you were about to cry again, disheartened and pathetic. Then, some headlights on the other side of the road caught your attention.

A maroon car stopped next to you and turned the ignition off. You held your breath, recognizing the vehicle instantly and wondering if the universe wouldn’t happen to be messing with you.

The driver exited the car and eyed yours up and down before chuckling.

“I had a feeling Gina wouldn’t make it through the year,” he said.

You laughed, the sound choked up in your throat at the improbability of the situation. You couldn’t believe Steve was there, rescuing you even without meaning to, always being there when you needed him to, the constant one in your life. As luck would have it, you thought.

“What are you doing here this late at night?” you asked him.

“Could ask you the same thing,” he remarked with a smile.

You returned his smile, nervously fixing your hair. The wind was rising, and the air was filled with change and expectations.

“I was… on my way to your place, actually,” you explained, somehow shyly. “I wanted to talk to you.”

A few seconds passed until Steve spoke again like he was processing the information. “That’s funny, I was on my way to your place too.”

You swallowed, unable to stop hoping. “You were?”

“Yeah… Of course, I was,” Steve shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep, and I realized I never got a chance to give you your present because we weren't speaking to each other, so… Anyways, I can just give it to you now.”

“We’re literally in the middle of the road, Steve.”

He looked around at the empty and silent street for good measure. “Yeah, and it’s not like it’s rush hour right now, I think we’re good.”

You opened your mouth to retort but opted against saying anything else. It was your first interaction with him in weeks, it was out of the question to ruin it just to have the last word.

The young man got something from the backseat of his car and immediately handed it to you. You took it carefully, turning it over in your hand to try and figure out what was beneath the wrapping paper.

“I… don’t have your gift,” you admitted, crestfallen. “I mean, I did get you something, but I didn’t think to give it to you tonight.”

“It’s okay, kitten. Just open it.”

You complied, slowly unwrapping the paper with trembling fingers and shortness of breath as Steve observed quietly.

You were now looking at a book’s front cover, and it might’ve seemed unremarkable at first glance, but it was not some common paperback.

“First limited edition,” Steve explained, even though you already knew. “You talked about it at Eddie’s place a couple of months ago, that it was almost impossible to find today, and you’d love to have it. So, I went to every bookstore in town to ask if they knew where to get it, and one of them gave me their counterpart's number from England, they had to send it all the way here but… Yeah,” Steve concluded, face red and hands in his pocket. “I found it.”

You looked up from the book to lock eyes with Steve. He seemed expectant and abashed, almost anxious of your reaction.

“You went to all this trouble for me?” you asked in disbelief.

He pursed his lips and nodded as if it was that obvious.

“You’re well worth the trouble.”

All this time, you had expected blatant signs, big gestures, and declarations, when Steve had been telling you how he felt in his own way for years. It had always been there – in fleeting touches, longing stares, and understated actions.

“I read it,” you eventually confessed.

"The book?" Steve asked, puzzled.

“No," you laughed. "The note you wrote in my photo album. I read it tonight.”

You noticed the way Steve held his breath at that revelation. Suddenly, you no longer cared that you were standing in the middle of the road with your dead car by your side. Suddenly, all that mattered was the pretty boy standing before you and what you felt for him.

“It was corny, right?” Steve said with a nervous laugh. “I know you don’t like it when it’s corny but –“

“Can’t you just be serious for one minute, Harrington?” you cut him short with an amused eye roll. “I’m trying to tell you how I feel here.”

“I know,” Steve breathed out. “I’ve been trying to tell you how I feel for months now, but I never find the right words.”

In the elation of the moment, your words got a mind of their own, and you heard yourself saying: “Show me, then.”

Friends. A designation you held onto for the past eight years, a status that put things into perspective whenever Steve introduced a new girlfriend to the group, a word that freed you of your guilt when getting into relationships yourself, a term that helped you when you would yearn for something more, something you thought to be unrealistic and unreachable.

That word no longer held any power over you now that you were in Steve Harrington’s arms and he leaned in to seal his lips with yours into a long-awaited and overdue kiss, the promise of a cherished and beautiful future.

You'd envisioned the scene time and time again in your mind, but none of the imaginary scenarios your fantasies created could measure up to that kiss. It was sweet, yet demanding, like you were the air he needed to breathe. He kissed you like he loved - sincerely, tenderly, and intensely. You smiled against his mouth, and your heart melted when he did it too.

When you parted from him, lips swollen and eyelashes fluttering, you felt like everything was finally right and mourned the time you wasted being scared of changes.

“So… What now?” you whispered, getting a strand of hair out of Steve’s face to look at him better.

The boy held your gaze, enamored and enraptured like you’d never seen him before. You enjoyed it while it lasted because it was a momentary bliss until reality caught up.

“Well, first, we’re going to call a tow truck," Steve said as he entwined his fingers with yours. "And then, you’ll bid farewell to Gina,” he nodded toward the car.

Your heart tightened in your chest. You’d almost forgotten about your car. It was truly ironic, how you needed to say goodbye to your oldest partner while embracing a new beginning with your best friend.

“Can it wait until tomorrow?” you asked while batting your lashes at him.

“Hey, just because we’re going to make out a lot from now on doesn’t mean you get to do that,” Steve jokingly scolded you while gesturing at your face.

“Do what?” you asked, coy and amused.

Steve laughed and put his arm around your shoulders. “Come on, kitten, I’m taking you home.”

At first, it didn’t feel like much had changed between you and Steve. You were still teasing each other, spending time with the group before Nancy and Jonathan’s departure, and arguing about what car you should buy now that Gina was in a junkyard.

But things had changed for the better, and you realized it on New Year’s Eve when Steve kissed you at midnight, as he would for many new years to come.

❤️❤️❤️

[kyeomofhearts]

Need Somebody | J.WW

+ summary: a heart-to-heart conversation with your best friend leads to an unexpected confession…

+ pair: wonwoo x gn!reader

+ word count: 2.7k

+ content: hurt/comfort, it was never platonic lol, mutual pining, angst, fluff. (I really tried keeping the reader gender-neutral but I’m not 100% sure it is so please lmk if I need to make any changes!)

[borders created by @enchanthings <3]

“So when do you plan on settling down?” Your mother had asked you over dinner. God, you hated the holidays.

Never in your life have you ever dated anyone.

Not that you needed to.

It's not like you haven't had anyone take interest in you either, there would be some people here and there who would pursue you for a bit. You were just simply not interested in them.

Of course, there would be times when you would feel the loneliness creep in even more than usual. But you usually reasoned to yourself that the right person would come with time.

Except tonight happened to be one of those nights.

You see, your family had just left your place a few hours ago. With the holidays coming and going, your family had begun to visit you more often.

Now you obviously loved your family, but man, did they get on your nerves.

Being the youngest amongst your siblings was becoming more difficult as the years passed by. Seeing them get married one by one definitely didn’t help with your case either.

Your mom started to fear for your so-called ‘future’. Which irritated you since you had everything you needed for the most part, that being a well-paying job and a nice place.

Which is exactly what happened today. Your parents (alongside your siblings) started asking you non-stop questions over your love life.

“Mom please don’t,” you tried to keep your tone respectful but it was getting difficult when you weren’t seeing an end to these invasive questions.

“What? All of your other siblings have gotten married… don’t you think that’s it’s time you do too?” Her tone was bordering a slight feeling of concern and stress.

You stayed quiet for a beat, trying to give her a response that would help get her off your back until the next time she saw you.

“We’ve talked about this, I’m not in a rush and surely it will-“ before you could finish your sentence your mom was already finishing it for you.

“-happen with time I know. But don’t you think you are being too picky at this point? Prince Charming doesn’t exist, so stop waiting for him.”

There it was.

Just because you didn’t date around didn’t mean that you were picky.

You just didn’t like wasting your time with the wrong people, that's all it was.

But before you could counter, one of your siblings quickly changed the subject before things eventually escalated into something worse.

And just like that, the rest of your evening had been soured by that single conversation with your mother.

Even hours after your family had left, you still felt bothered by your mother’s disapproving comments.

…

Needless to say, you called the only person who would be awake at one in the morning.

Wonwoo.

You and Wonwoo have been close friends for a few years, having first met in your senior year of college.

At first he was just an acquaintance, someone you thought you would see once in a while. But he somehow happened to be everywhere you were.

You don’t really remember how the two of you actually became friends, it could have been through a mutual friend or class that you shared. But ever since then, the two of you have been inseparable.

You might have had the tiniest crush on him too but you don’t really like thinking about that. You like to think you grew past that stage.

“yn? Is everything okay?” His voice was slightly groggy… shit you might have woken him up.

“Fuck I’m sorry, were you asleep? I’ll leave you-“

What was it with people cutting you off mid-sentence?

“-No I wasn’t. I actually just woke up from my nap, what’s up?”

Wonwoo and his naps. At this point they should not be called naps considering how long he sleeps for.

“Oh you know… just had the best talk with my family.”

You could hear him audibly smile. Wonwoo knew that you didn’t always have the best times with your family, having heard your countless rants throughout the years.

“What did they say this time?” He asked with faux enthusiasm.

“More like what did my mom say. She just kept asking me when I plan on getting married and that I should stop being picky.” As much as you tried to act nonchalant about it, you were really upset by the way things had turned out.

Wonwoo quickly took notice in your slightly wavering voice. It wasn’t normal for you to get emotional over small fights like this. It must have been serious enough for you to remain bothered even after your family had left.

“Hey, don’t take it to heart. I know your mom can say some out of pocket things but try to not let it get to you.” Wonwoo was not the best at comforting people, even he knew that, but he always tried his best to comfort you.

“I know but it’s so…. irritating? Like she told me to stop waiting for Prince Charming as if I’m a little kid.” You wanted to say more but once you started ranting you knew Wonwoo would not be able to keep up.

“I’ve told her so many times that I don’t want to waste my time with the wrong person. I don’t get how she doesn’t understand that!”

Relax. Just take a deep breath and wait for his response.

“Do you want me to come over?”

Even though Wonwoo had been over to your place a numerous amount of times, you still couldn’t help but feel your heartbeat race at the thought of him coming over.

“No, it’s okay I promise. I just wanted to talk to you about it.”

One thing you had learned about Wonwoo was that he was a bit assertive when he was concerned about you.

“Hmmm… doesn’t matter I’m coming over.”

It was always shocking to see him get this bold, seeing how reserved he was with everyone else.

“What was the point in asking then?” You tried sounding annoyed but you knew that your smile was very audible.

“Just wanted to make you feel like you had a choice.” You could hear his cockiness through the phone and somehow, it made your heart do somersaults.

“Don’t you think it’s a little late to be coming over?” Like always, you tried playing it cool, never wanting to show Wonwoo how his words got to you. Maybe he did notice, but if he did, he never said anything about it.

“Never… I’ll see you in ten.”

And just like that he ended the call.

Sometimes you wondered what it would be like when he eventually got a girlfriend. Wonwoo is a good-looking guy, you’re surprised he hasn’t been snatched up yet. Not that you’re worried or anything, but… you know, things will surely change once he finds the one.

Maybe it was you being selfish, but you try to take advantage of the little time you have left before either one of you finds a partner. You know it’s bound to happen at some point, so might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

It actually took Wonwoo a little over thirty minutes to get to your place, which was weird considering you live pretty close to each other.

What was also weird was that he knocked. He never knocked anymore considering that he had a key to your place.

“Hey, what took you so-“ opening the door you were greeted with a slightly disheveled Wonwoo.

Oh.

Wonwoo’s hands were filled with plastic bags. You could see snacks poking out of through some of the bags and… regular groceries? What grocery store is open at this hour?

“Couldn’t come over empty handed.” He stated simply.

Before he stepped another foot you decided to help him with the load. You could imagine how tiring it must have been for him to carry the bags all the way to the third floor of your apartment building.

Seeing him like this felt oddly comforting. It looked like he was just returning home from a long day at work.

“You really didn’t have to Won…” As much as you liked to play it cool, you couldn’t help but swoon over his actions. It was hard to when he was just so caring.

“But I wanted to… everything I do is by my own will you know,” he softly smiled at you while ruffling your hair.

Before you were able to respond, he quickly offered you your favorite bag of chips.

“Sit down, I’ll put everything away.”

And just like that, he quickly went to work. It helped that he knew where everything went so it didn’t take him long before he joined you on the sofa.

“So… rough night?” He asked gently, despite being so bold through the phone. Seeing your defeated face always put a sour taste in his mouth, which made him more careful with his words.

“You could say that.” You tried to laugh it off, but he knew that you were bothered.

“I know dealing with your family is hard but just know that I’m always here for you.” He lightly grabbed your hands over to his, rubbing soft circles over your palms.

This always seemed to do the trick, seeing your tense shoulders drop into a more relaxed position.

“And I’m grateful for that Won… but sometimes it really gets to me you know?” You tried avoiding looking into his eyes because you knew that one look would break the dam building up in your eyes.

“Maybe she is right… maybe I am being too unreasonable. Like as much as I like to think that the right guy will come through one day… what if he doesn’t?”

This seemed to annoy Wonwoo. He never wanted to see you settle for less, because he knew that you deserved better.

With a sharp inhale, he grabbed your chin to make you look directly into his eyes.

“Never say that again. You should never settle for less. You know better than that.” He was obviously annoyed but not at you. He hated when others tried to make you take less than what you truly deserve.

His fingers on your chin stayed, making your skin slightly tingle from his touch.

As great as he was at comforting you, the thoughts of him someday not being able to be there for you started to cloud your mind. It was bound to happen, either you or Wonwoo would find someone and eventually stop hanging out. Wonwoo seemed to notice the shift in your sadness, eyes becoming glossy.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” he muttered softly.

“It’s nothing,” you weren’t sure if he actually heard your response since it was barely audible to you.

Wonwoo gave you that look. The one he always used when he wasn’t convinced by your responses. You didn't want to tell him about your fear because it would then expose your feelings for him. And that was one thing you could never risk, your friendship. No matter how strong your feelings would get, you couldn't let him become aware of them.

“Talk to me,” his eyes were pleading. He just wanted you to completely open up to him the way he did with you.

There was no way out of this. Obviously, you weren’t going to tell him the actual reason behind your sadness. You had to give him something to get him off your trail.

“Well, it’s just that sometimes it does feel lonely. And having my mom point out the obvious makes me feel like a lost cause. I’m also not getting any younger, so now I feel like I have to rush into something or else my ‘good’ years would have gone to waste…” While this wasn’t the actual thing that was bothering you tonight, it was at least something believable.

Wonwoo seemed to have bought it, since he stopped giving you those judging eyes. He stayed quiet, most likely trying to find the right thing to say.

He cleared his throat after a beat or so.

“Don’t lie to me. I know there’s something else bothering you, if you don’t want to tell me then just say that.”

How? How did he know you that you were lying?

Maybe this was your chance. Your chance to tell him how you felt about it because if you truly thought about it, there was no future with him either way. Either he rejects you or he finds someone, they both lead to you not being in his life in the future.

You took in deep breath, gathering all of your courage before speaking.

“If I tell you, please don’t judge me-“

He immediately cut you off, “Why would I judge you?”

“Please just let me finish, it’s already hard enough having to tell you.” Again, you avoided his eyes, fearful of seeing any sort of judgment in them.

“Look, I know we’ve been friends for a while now… and I’ve been so happy with that, I really have. It’s just that… one day we won’t have each other.”

As much as you tried not looking at him, your eyes landed on his. They looked solemn. You could already tell that he knew where the conversation was going.

“Eventually, we’ll have our own partners-” your voice was beginning to shake, becoming harder to hide your sadness.

“yn stop.” But before Wonwoo could get another word in, he softly pressed his lips against yours. His hands had snaked their way up to your neck, gently cradling your face. His touch was gentle, as if you were the most fragile thing in the world.

You were stunned, to say the least. Even as he pulled away, you couldn’t find any words to say. It was as if he had taken your breath away.

“I tried taking it slow, I really did, but I can’t continue seeing you like this. I like you yn, I really do. I was too scared of ruining our friendship so I didn't say anything, but I hate to see you think that no one wants you… because I do.”

You didn’t even notice you had started crying, only feeling Wonwoo's thumbs wipe your tears away.

He continued, “I’m not even sure if you feel the same way about me, but I really need you to know that you are not unloveable.”

It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Especially now that you knew that Wonwoo liked you back, you felt elated.

Wonwoo on the other hand… felt terrified. While he didn’t regret confessing his feelings towards you, he was certainly scared. He didn’t even know if you reciprocated those same feelings. It also didn’t help that you were being quiet. The silence that was once comfortable to him was beginning to feel suffocating. But before his thoughts could escalate any further, your voice was able to snap him out of his daze.

“Do you really mean it?” You knew it was stupid to ask, considering Wonwoo was not the type to stay stuff like this without meaning it. But the little voice in your head didn’t buy it one bit, so you needed the reassurance to silence those thoughts.

Without hesitation, Wonwoo answered, “Of course.”

“Okay, well… I do too. Like you, that is…” Your face was beginning to burn up. This was so embarrassing. God, you felt like a teenager again, except this time you actually did get your happy ending.

But like the two idiots you were… you didn’t move a single inch. Were you supposed to hug? High-five? Kiss again? This has never happened to you before, either you rejected the guy or pretended that it never happened. What were you supposed to do?

“So….” Wonwoo’s voice was quiet and awkward.

To be fair, neither of you were expecting to confess to each other tonight. Obviously, now that you both know that you have mutual feelings for each other… the next step would be dating right? Or is that too soon? You have been friends for a while now so it wouldn't be that unreasonable... right?

Wonwoo grabbed a hold of your hand, weaving his fingers with yours. You could see the tips of his ears turn a bright pink before he cleared his throat.

“Do you… want to be my-” Wonwoo was visibly cringing as he said it out loud. It was a no brainer, but he still wanted to ask you, to make it official.

“-Yes. I would be an idiot to say no.”

[ᝰ.ᐟ] hey guys! i know i haven’t been active lately and i’m really sorry about that. school has been so overwhelming for me so i struggled finding the time to write, which brings us to this! i wrote this i think… last year? not too sure but i tried editing it a little but there might be some errors here and there so please excuse that 🥹 also i am still working on part three for Back for More so stay tuned for that!

[kai-uh-arcadian]

Firsts

synopsis: a collection of the firsts you have with Aeri <3

cw: it's purely fluff until the end and it's a bit... steamy hehe, fingering, brat! aeri, begging, finger sucking, nipple play, tension(?), if theres anything else please lmk!

word count: 6.5k

notes! hi my loves I hope you enjoy this! It's (lowkey) a continuation of Project: Aeri but I guess you don't have to read it for this to make sense... but you should! It's my first time ever writing smut so pls be kind hehe

lmk how you feel about this if you'd like and if you wanna chat my dms/asks are always open!

ps. the pics are supposed to be from each first hehehe and also also also did anyone catch the 3 sunflowers meaning?? :0

xoxo love youuu

also s/o to my BAE @wintersera thank you for the ideas for the smut (;

First date 

After everything that had happened that night, you two remained in touch and saw each other quite often. The tension between you was clear, lingering in every glance, every playful tease. There was an unspoken fact but both of you had been too nervous to make the first move.

Until now.

After weeks of mutual pining, you finally decided it was time to take the initiative. You couldn’t wait any longer—you wanted her to be yours, officially (of course).

With slightly shaky hands, you clicked on her contact and pressed the call option, your heart racing as you held the phone to your ear– which was new because calling wasn’t foreign for you two.

“Uh, hello?” Aeri’s sweet voice rang through the line, smooth and familiar.

You cleared your throat, trying to keep your nerves in check. “Hey Aeri, you busy tonight? I, uh... wanted to ask you something”

There was a playful pause on the other end before she giggled. “Hmm... depends. What’s up?”

Your heart raced. “I wanna take you out on a date,” you blurted, a little more direct than you intended.

“Did you call me just to ask me on a date?” she laughed, her voice teasing, followed by a playful sigh. “How old are you, 80?” she teased, obviously enjoying your nervousness.

You rolled your eyes, trying to stay composed despite your pounding heart. “Oh, whatever! Do you want to go on a date or not, Uchinaga?”

“Hmm...” she drew out the sound, clearly toying with you, her tone mischievous. “Let me check my schedule. I might be able to pencil you in...” She trailed off for a moment, and you could practically hear the smirk in her voice.

You couldn’t help but grin, even though she couldn’t see it. “You’re such a tease.”

After a brief pause, she broke the silence with a laugh. “Yes! I can, is there like a dress code for this date?”

Your smile widened, the weight in your chest releasing slightly.

“Hmm. just something casual and comfy,” you replied, already mentally planning out the evening. “I’ll pick you up at 6?”

“Not even gonna tell me where we’re going?” she asked, her voice curious.

“Nope!” you said with a teasing grin. “It’s a surprise”

She let out a dramatic sigh. “Fine fine~, I guess I’ll trust you”

With a satisfied sigh, you hung up the phone and immediately began scrambling around your apartment. You grabbed extra pillows and blankets, carefully folding them and setting them aside. Then, you packed your laptop and collected an assortment of snacks and sodas, wanting everything to be perfect for your date.

You made your way down the staircase to the parking lot where your car sat. You pushed down the back seats of your crossover SUV, trying to make the space into a makeshift bed. You arranged the pillows and blankets neatly, trying your best to make it perfect. After placing the snacks and laptop down by one of the pillows, you felt a huge wave of excitement hit you.

Today’s the day

When everything was set, you hopped into your car, but as you started driving, a thought hit you—something was missing. A date wasn’t complete without a little something extra. Smiling to yourself, you made a quick detour to a nearby flower shop, quickly browsing through the fresh bouquets. After a few moments of searching, your eyes landed on the three sunflowers—vibrant, bold, and full of warmth, just like Aeri.

With the small bunch carefully placed on the passenger seat, you felt a surge of excitement. You couldn’t wait to see her reaction.

Finally, you arrived at Aeri’s apartment, your nerves kicking in again as you approached. You quickly texted her a simple, I’m here, before grabbing the sunflowers beside you. But the moment you saw her stepping out of her building, all those nerves melted away.

Dressed in casual sweats and a simple tank top paired with a black jacket, Aeri still managed to take your breath away. Her casual look only made her more radiant, and for a moment, you were speechless.

You hopped out of the car, sunflowers in hand, quickly making your way around to open the door for her.

Her eyes lit up when she spotted the small bouquet. “Are these for me? How’d you know they were my favourite?” she asked, her voice light with surprise.

“Of course they are,” you said, smiling shyly as you handed her the sunflowers. “And honestly I didn’t, they just reminded me of you”

Aeri grinned, holding the bouquet close and inhaling their sweet fragrance. “You’re too sweet, Y/N, and a little cheesy” she teased, her eyes sparkling.

“You look beautiful, by the way” you added ignoring her stupid little comment, your voice coming out softer than expected as you took her in.

She flashed a grin, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself, L/N,” she teased with a playful wink before stepping into the car, making you smile and roll your eyes.

Once you started driving, Aeri glanced over at you, interrupting the light music you had on, “Soo~ can I know where we’re going now, or are you just planning to kidnap me?” She chuckled.

“Damn. You caught me,” you teased back. “But if you keep talking, I might just reconsider and drop you back off.”

“Hey!” she laughed, lightly hitting your arm, and soon both of you were laughing.

“Okay, okay,” you said, not taking long to give in. “I’m taking you to this spot I used to go to when I wanted to relax or reflect on shit or whatever. It’s a pretty special place for me, and I wanted to share it with you… I even set up a little car picnic in the back.” Nervously rubbing the back of your neck before motioning towards the back seat

Aeri’s eyes lit up as she glanced behind her at the pillows and blankets you’d carefully arranged. “Y/N! That’s sooo cute!” she squealed, her excitement contagious as she reached over and gently rubbed your arm. “Thank you,” she added softly

“Yeah- Of course, Aeri,” you responded, your heart swelling at the way she looked at you

When you arrived, the sky was a breathtaking canvas of pinks and oranges, the sun slowly dipping below the horizon. You both made your way to the trunk of your car and you quickly connected your laptop to your hotspot while searching for a movie.

“And we’re watching a movie? You’re seriously the best,” Aeri said, her eyes lighting up as she took in the scene.

“Not just any movie... Deadpool!” you said with a grin, you remembered how it was her favorite movie.

“No way! Now you’re just spoiling me, n/n,” Aeri said, her cheeks dusted with a faint blush.

“Well yeah, nothing less for you Aeri,” you responded, feeling a little shy under her gaze.

The two of you settled into the makeshift bed, propped up against the pillows. Aeri’s head naturally found its place on your shoulder, and as much as you tried to focus on the movie, her familiar sweet scent made it impossible. You could feel her warmth, the weight of her resting against you, and your heart raced despite your best efforts to stay calm.

After a while, Aeri shifted slightly. “Can you lay down? My neck is hurting,” 

You blinked at her, not quite processing what she meant at first.

“Hm?”

“...So I can lay on you?” she clarified, her eyebrows furrowing with a smile

“Oh— duh, yeah, of course,” you stammered, feeling your face heat up. You shifted around, carefully placing one arm behind your head and the other around her, pulling her in slowly. She nestled into the crook of your arm like she belonged there, her body fitting perfectly against yours.

The top of her head rested under your chin, her warmth enveloping you, and everything about the moment felt just right—like it was meant to be.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” Aeri pointed out, still focused on the screen that was on your lap.

“Mm,” you mumbled, trying to play it cool and dismiss it, even though your stupid racing heart was betraying you.

A few moments later, Aeri commented again, her voice light with amusement. “Like, it’s really fast. I can barely hear the movie,” she giggled, propping herself up on one elbow. Her eyes gleamed with mischief as she looked at you. “What’s going on? Am I making you nervous or somethingg~?”

She raised an eyebrow, locking her gaze with yours, and suddenly, you were at a loss for words. The movie continued playing in the background, but you could hardly hear it over the pounding of your heart. You were completely lost in her eyes, your breath catching in your throat.

Before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out. “Will you.. be my girlfriend?” you finally managed to say, your voice soft, almost a whisper.

Her eyes widened in surprise before softening, something shy and tender was in her expression as she stared at you. For a moment, the playful air between you shifted..  To something serious.

“Is that.. Is that what you really want?” she asked, her voice sincere. There was a flicker of something in her eyes—uncertainty? nervousness?—but it was quickly replaced by warmth.

“Well.. yeah…” you replied, your heart still pounding, feeling more vulnerable than you ever had before.

Aeri’s lips twitched into a smirk, her tone deadpan. “Then no.”

You blinked in surprise, your jaw dropping just as she burst into a fit of laughter.

You realized you had just walked right into her joke, you groaned. “Ahh~ you’re sooo mean,” you huffed, though you were fighting off a laugh of your own. “I take it back,” you added, dramatically turning your head away like a pouting child.

“Nonono~ Y/n~ Wait, I was kiddingggg~” she giggled, practically pouncing on you. Her hands gently grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks between her palms.

“Ask me againnn~” she teased, her voice soft and sing-song as she planted a sweet kiss on your cheek.

Your stomach flipped, but you were determined to keep up the bit. “Nope~,” you pouted again, causing her to giggle even more.

She began peppering your face with soft, feathery kisses. “Ask~ me~ again~” she sang between each word with a kiss while her laughter rang out with each peck.

“Okay, okay!” you finally surrendered, looking up at her with a tender smile. “Will you be my girlfriend?” you asked again, your voice warm and sincere.

“Duh!” Aeri squealed, she couldn’t contain herself as she leaned down, closing the distance between you. Her lips met yours in a deep and longing kiss as you snaked your arm around her waist. Everything in the moment was warm and soft, brimming with excitement. You could feel her seemingly melt into you with the way her hands gently cupped your face, pulling you closer like she’d been waiting for this moment for a long time. (You both were)

You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss—it felt like everything had finally fallen into place.

First I love you

Since getting together, your Friday nights through Sunday mornings were habitually spent at Aeri's apartment. This super early morning was just like the rest. The soft hues of the sunrise peeked through the small gap in her blackout curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. The light stirred both of you awake, but neither of you was quite ready to leave the warmth of the bed. Aeri shuffled lazily, her body repositioning itself into the familiar crook of your neck, her hand resting gently on your chest.

Half-awake, you instinctively wrapped your arms around her, pulling her close. Without thinking, you pressed a soft, sleepy kiss to her forehead before sinking back into the comfortable haze of sleep.

An hour (or so) had passed, though it felt like quick moments, before you began to stir again. Your movements awoke Aeri, her body shifting as her eyes fluttered open, still hazy with sleep.

“Mmm,” she muttered, her eyes half-closed as she stretched one arm out lazily, her body snuggling deeper into yours.

You took the opportunity to nuzzle your face into the crook of her neck, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of her skin as she wrapped her arm around you tighter.

“Hi, baby~,” you rasped, your voice still thick with sleepiness, your warm breath grazing her neck.

“G’morning,” she replied, her voice equally soft as her hand absentmindedly stroked your hair near your temple.

“Did you sleep well?” you mumbled, your eyes still closed as your leg slid to intertwine with hers, pulling her (impossibly) closer.

“Mhm..~” she hummed, her lips brushing lightly against your forehead in a sleepy kiss, which you returned with a soft kiss to her neck causing her to shutter.

For a while, the two of you lay in a comfortable silence, tangled together in a mess beneath the sheets. You could feel Aeri’s warmth against you, and the steady rhythm of her breathing lulled you back into a peaceful daze.

But then Aeri shifted again, her body stretching out as she let out a soft, tired groan.

“Baby~” she cooed sweetly, “I’m hungry.”

You felt her looking down at you, but your arms were still tightly wrapped around her waist, unwilling to let her go. “Five more minutes?” you whined, your voice muffled as you buried your face in her chest.

She giggled softly, running her fingers through your hair. “Mmm... okay,” she relented, her voice filled with sweetness. She could never say no to you when you looked so adorable, all sleepy and cuddly.

Inevitably, you both fell back asleep, the soft warmth of the morning wrapping around you like a nice blanket. You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you awoke again (maybe 20 minutes), but this time  the bed was empty. The absence of Aeri’s warmth made you frown a little, and the quiet clattering from the kitchen telling you where she’d gone.

Groggily, you got up, tidied the bed a bit, and slipped on your house shoes. As you made your way to the kitchen, the smell of doenjang jjigae filled the air, instantly waking you up.

“Aeri~! What’s this?” you mumbled, your voice still heavy with sleep as you stretched, making your way toward her.

She turned toward you with a playful smirk. Dressed in nothing but an (your) oversized t-shirt and panties, she looked effortlessly gorgeous. “Oh, good morning to you too,” she teased. “Your bedhead looks cute.” She ruffled your hair a bit

You grinned lazily, stepping closer to her, grabbing her hand and placing a quick kiss to it. “Oh, I’m glad. I actually styled it just for you,” you quipped before leaning down to plant a quick ‘good morning’ kiss on her lips.

“Oh, really?” she laughed softly, turning back to the stove as if she hadn’t been affected, but you caught the slight blush dusting her cheeks.

“Mmm,” was all you could manage in reply, the smell of the food and the coziness of the morning settling in. You wandered off to turn on the TV, opening up Netflix to put on a drama in the background as you tidied up the apartment that (at this point)  felt just as much yours as hers.

As you sank into the couch, you asked, “Need any help?”

Aeri shook her head, her attention still focused on the stove. “Nope, I’ve got it! I wanted to make you breakfast today.”

You chuckled at her determination in her voice, letting her take charge, though you couldn’t help but watch her out of the corner of your eye.

After a bit, Aeri groaned out an exasperated “Fuck,” and you glanced up from your phone, concerned if she had hurt herself or something.

“What’s happened, baby?” you asked, turning your phone off and setting it aside.

“Oh nothing, I was gonna make you a coffee and myself some green tea, but I just realized I ran out of ocha last week and forgot I didn’t pick any up yesterday, ugh! Like I was supposed to” she huffed, clearly disappointed.

A lightbulb appeared above your head as you were reminded “Oh babe! Check in the freezer,” you said casually. “I noticed you were low a few days ago, so I stopped by the Japanese market on 5th Street and grabbed your favorite. Ahh~ My bad I totally forgot to tell you”

“Ahh see! This is why I love you! Thank you Y/n!” she said enthusiastically.

Aeri continued for a second, her hands still submerged in the water as she was washing the rice. 

You both froze.

Moments passed as you both processed what she had just said,

A teasing smile tugged at your lips as you made your way smoothly from the couch and you leaned against the counter. “You what me, Aeri?”

“Wait no wait!”

The color rose quickly to her cheeks, turning a shade of red you weren’t sure you had ever seen before. “N-nothing!” she stammered, her flustered voice almost a whisper.

You smirked, taking slow steps toward her. Flustered Aeri was a rare and delightful sight. “Mhm... right.”

As she tried to focus back on washing the rice, you snuck up behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist and pressing a teasing kiss to her neck. “Say it again,” you whispered against her skin, enjoying the way she tensed up slightly in response.

“Oh stop~,” she whined playfully, trying to shrink down, but you weren’t going to let her off the hook.

You turned off the water, spinning her around gently so she was facing you. Before she could protest, you lifted her onto the counter, stepping between her legs and placing your hands on her hips.

“I love you too, Aeri Uchinaga,” you said softly, leaning in until your lips were just inches from hers. “Now say it again.”

The kiss that followed was tender, her lips soft against yours as her arms wrapped around your neck, pulling you even closer. When you finally broke the kiss, her eyes met yours, sparkling with a mix of affection and shyness.

“I love you, Y/N L/N,” she repeated, her voice quieter but filled with sincerity.

You grinned, brushing your nose against hers playfully. “Your hands are wet, by the way” you teased.

“Shut up, don’t ruin the moment,” she laughed, wiping her soaking wet hands on the back of your shirt before pulling you back into another kiss.

First time

Finals were just around the corner, and two of your dumbass professors decided to have an exam a week before their scheduled finals.

So, it’s a week before your two exams, and two weeks before your scheduled finals, and you’re about to arrive at Aeri’s place—to study, of course. 

You arrive in a cutoff and sweats, your hair messily tied up, and your glasses on. Aeri couldn’t help but notice how hot you looked.

You smiled as soon as you saw her. “Hi, baby~,” you said, pulling her into a big hug and giving her a quick kiss. She smiled back, squeezing you tight for a second before letting go.

You made your way to your usual spot—the one you had officially claimed months ago. Normally, the comfort of Aeri’s apartment would ease any stress lingering from your day. But today felt different. As you sat down, a heavy sigh escaped your lips, and Aeri (also) couldn’t help but giggle quietly at how frazzled you looked.

Any other day, she’d take the chance to tease you, probably throwing in a playful jab about how cute you were when stressed. But today, she sensed you weren’t in the mood. Instead, Aeri focused on her own work, letting the comfortable silence between you settle in as you both fell into an easy rhythm, side by side. Despite the closeness, it felt like you were worlds apart—your mind tangled up in studying and exams, while Aeri’s gaze drifted over to you every now and then.

Without you noticing, she snapped a few sneaky photos of you as you sat there, brow furrowed in frustration, your lip caught between your teeth in the way it always did when you were deep in concentration. Aeri smiled softly to herself, finding the sight ‘sooo cute’ despite your obvious stress.

Aeri stood in the kitchen, humming softly as she worked on making a quick study break snack, her ears tuned into your rant as you sat at the table, laptop open, books spread out around you.

“I just don’t fucking understand why they’d schedule exams a week before finals week,” you huffed, fingers tapping rapidly on your keyboard, frantically searching the internet for a damn answer on your practice test. “It’s like they did this shit on purpose babe! Like they wanted me to suffer”

Aeri chuckled softly from the kitchen. “Oh yeah! I think I heard they had a meeting on ‘how to make your life terrible’ ” she teased, the playfulness in her voice catching your attention for just a moment.

You barely looked up from your laptop, rolling your eyes while you took your hair out of the bun and ran your fingers through your hair. You continued to vent before going back to your screen. Your eyes were back to being glued to the screen, fingers flying over the keys. “I don’t fucking doubt that, god I feel like like I’m on the brink of losing it if I don’t start retaining this bullshit anytime soon” you muttered.

Aeri’s footsteps padded softly across the kitchen as she finished garnishing the fried tteokboki, setting it down on the table where you were. “I don’t know how you do it,” she said casually, her tone light. “ Maybe you should take a break pretty...”

Your eyes flicked up briefly as you gave her a small, dismissive and tired smile. “I know..” you sighed “I just need to finish this and—”

“You look really hot when you’re focused, you know?” Aeri’s voice dropped slightly, the casual playfulness gone, replaced by something a little more mischievous.

Your fingers paused mid-type, your heart skipping a beat at her comment. “W-what?” you asked, turning your head to meet her gaze.

She smiled, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes—something teasing, almost daring. “Almost makes me jealous of that assignment you’re paying so~ much attention to.”

You swallowed, her words slowly sinking in as the tension in the room shifted. “Aeri,” you started, your voice hesitant, but she was already moving closer to you.

She crossed the distance between you in a stride, her fingers brushing lightly against your shoulders as she stood behind you. Her touch was feather-light, but it sent a spark through you as her breasts pressed up against you. “I just can’t get over how good you look tonight,” she murmured, her breath warm against your ear. “Wonder what it would take to get you to pay that kind of attention to me..”

Her fingers traced a slow line down your arms, and you felt your heart race as her hands rested lightly on your shoulders, her thumbs making small circles against your skin. The warmth of her body behind you, the casual confidence in her voice—it was enough to make your mind go blank, the rant you’d been lost in completely forgotten.

“I... I,” you mumbled, but even you could hear how weak your nervous protest sounded.

“Mm,” Aeri hummed softly, interrupting your stuttering as she leaned in, her lips grazing close to your ear. “How ‘bout  just a little break? For me, baby?” she murmured, her fingers brushing your hair aside before placing a lingering kiss on your neck.

The warmth of her body so close to yours made the air feel thicker and heavier. Her hands shifted ever so slightly, sending a shiver up your spine. Your fingers hovered uselessly over the keyboard, your mind entirely abandoning your exams. All you could focus on was her, commanding your attention in a way that no textbook, no deadline, no nothing ever could.

“Ah~ fuck,” you sighed, leaning back into her touch, feeling the tension in your body ease. “I’m all yours,” you murmured, your voice breathy as you tilted your neck slightly, offering her more space.

“That’s my girl..”

She took full advantage, planting soft, lingering kisses from your neck up to your jawline before finally capturing your lips. Unable to resist, you pulled her around into your lap, and she straddled you, the closeness intensifying as both of you sank deeper into the kiss. Your hands instinctively found their way to her back, pressing her closer, while her fingers trailed up to your shoulders and tangled gently in your hair.

Slowly, your hands slid down to her lower back, pausing at the curve of her hips as you pulled her closer. She broke the kiss, her forehead pressing against yours, her breath coming in with shallow and needy gasps and you breathed them in. Her eyes were glazed with desire, a smirk playing at her lips.

“I need you, Y/n,” she whispered, her voice a mix of softness and urgency.

You looked at her, equally breathless, feeling every ounce of longing she held in her gaze. “Fuck~, I need you too,” you murmured in one breath before pulling her back in, your mouths meeting in a kiss that was all heat and intensity, tongues meeting halfway. Your hands roamed her back, tracing along her spine, and a shiver ran through you as her fingers grazed your skin, tugging at the hem of your shirt.

Without breaking contact, you hooked your arms under her legs, lifting her effortlessly as she wrapped her legs around your waist. You walked her down the hallway and managed to open her bedroom door with your foot, carrying her inside until her knees met the edge of the bed, where she let herself fall, pulling you down with her.

You caught yourself just before you landed, her arms still wrapped around your neck, keeping you inches from her lips. She giggled, her eyes dancing with mischief.

“Still wanna study?” she purred, her voice teasing.

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” you replied, a grin tugging at your lips as you leaned down to press soft, lingering kisses along her neck.

A soft moan escaped her lips as she tilted her head to give you better access. “That’s what I thought,” she murmured, her fingers weaving into your hair, holding you close.

“You’re so annoying,” you muttered playfully, pressing another kiss just below her jaw. Her eyes met yours, a gleam of challenge in them.

“And you like it,” she whispered, pulling you impossibly closer, her fingers tracing gentle patterns down your back.

You hummed in agreement, pressing your forehead against hers again. “Mhm,” you replied, voice low and filled with affection.

Your lips trailed down Aeri’s jaw, planting painfully slow kisses along her neck, each one drawing out a soft sigh from her. You could feel her hands gliding down your back.

Just as you were fully lost in her, her fingers moved lower, grazing along your inner thigh with feather-light touches that sent sparks up your spine and to your core. You let out a quiet gasp, which only made her smile even more, her eyes glinting with mischief.

She let out a teasing laugh as her fingers lingered at the inside of your thigh, not quite giving you what you wanted.

“Aeri…” you breathed out, the heat in your voice making her chuckle softly again.

But instead of moving her hand to where it should be, she slid it back up slowly, bringing it to rest just below your waist.

God she was teasing you

 As she did, you moved your hands up, slipping under her shirt to rest on her waist before slowly sliding higher. Your fingers found the soft curve of her perfect tits, and her breath hitched as your hands squeezed gently.

Her soft, breathy moans fueled you, and you pressed gentle kisses along her collarbone, slowly making your way to the curve of her chest, savoring the warmth of her skin beneath your lips. She arched under your touch, fingers threading through your hair, each sound she made, made you even wetter than you already were.

Letting out a soft sigh, you leaned in, brushing your lips across the peak of her soft perky nipple while using your warm breath to tease her with a smirk. Your free hand found its way to her other nipple, gently pinching it. The cadence of her breath quickened and  her hips began to slowly buck as if searching for some sort of release.

 A satisfied, desire-filled grin spread across your face as you watched your girlfriend unravel, her usually sleek black hair now a tangled mess against the silk pillowcase, her brows knitted in both frustration and neediness.

Aeri’s breaths deepened as your touch sent little shivers through her, her fingers curling around your shoulders, grounding herself against you. Your lips hovered just above her perfectly hard nipple, her skin flushed with anticipation.

“Please,” she whispered, voice barely audible. If you hadn’t been watching her so closely, you probably would have missed it.

You raised an eyebrow, teasing. “What was that, Aeri?”

She turned her head to the side, (trying to hide as much of herself as she could into the pillow), clearly flustered and embarrassed, before whispering again, “Please…”

Gently, you brought her chin forward, guiding her to look at you. “I can’t help you, baby.. if you don’t use your words. You didn’t seem to have any trouble being mouthy earlier, huh?” You shot her a playful and challenging look.

Her eyes fluttered open and her cheeks flushed even deeper, and she took a breath before meeting your gaze. “Please… suck on my… nipples’”

“That's my good girl” you gave her a smug grin before averting your attention to her chest.

You (finally) insatiably wrapped your lips around her nipple which elicited a gaspy moan

“Fuck..”. Aeri’s head fell back, her nails digging into your shoulders as you continued savoring each bud, your attention fully on Aeri as her gasps filled the room. You smiled against her beautiful tits, feeling the heat radiating from them. Her fingers tangled through your hair even more, making you stay as close as possible as your kisses and gentle nibbles drew more and more breathy moans from her.

Letting one hand roam lower, you found her clit, tracing slow circles with your middle finger through the thin soaked fabric of her panties. Her body responded with each touch, soft and needy sighs slipping past her lips and she began to grind on your fingers needing more than what you were allowing her. You glanced up, catching her expression—a mixture of bliss and anticipation, her eyes half-lidded as she met your gaze with a dazed smile.

“Need something, princess?,” you murmured with a grin and an arrogant glint in your eye, trailing more kisses along her skin, taking your time. Each new touch, every small shift in pressure, had her melting beneath you and her pussy dripping for more.

Aeri secretly loved hated this. Where did this sudden surge of confidence in you come from? Wasn’t she supposed to be the one making you beg and pleading to touch her? Why did the fact that you have her completely under your control make you so fucking hot and her so turned on? UGH! The tables had turned and it was as exhilarating as it was maddening.

“N-no…” she managed, her voice shaky as she bit down on her lip in frustration, fighting to regain some sense of control.

Slowly, you lifted your hand from her now-ruined underwear. “Well, I could just stop here. I mean, I do have to study—

Her hand moved faster than lighting, gripping your wrist firmly, threatening to leave a mark. “Don’t you…fucking…dare,” she breathed 'threateningly', guiding your hand back to her pulsing clit as her hips jutted forward trying to meet you halfway.

“Or what?” You raised an eyebrow, stopping just shy of her needy pussy, knowing you had the upper hand this time. You fucking loved seeing her like this—Her playful bitchiness, unbreakable attitude, all crumbling away because you wouldn’t fuck her like the brat she is.

Suddenly, her bratty facade wavered, and her voice softened. “Please…” Tears threatened to spill as she whispered, arching herself toward your touch trying to find some sort of relief, her voice barely audible. “Mm-Please, I need you…need you to fuck me so bad…” She finally muttered out

You grinned, feeling the satisfaction of winning this round. “Anything you want, my pretty girl,” you said, savoring the way her eyes rolled back with need.

With a quick motion, you rid her of her drenched panties, and your finger began to trace gentle circles around her swollen clit, making her gasp. You ran your hand along her slit to wetten your finger with her juices, taking in each small reaction as her breath quickened, her voice slipping into load moans. Aeri was a complete moaning mess at this point and you haven’t even finished her off yet. Her hair was splayed out and droplets of drool ran down from her chin to her collarbone as her mouth was open.

You lifted her head gently with your free hand, making her meet your gaze. Slowly, you withdrew your long  finger from her wet slick, and before she could protest the missing feeling, you pressed it to her lips, your thumb brushing her chin.

 “Tell me how good you taste, baby,” you cooed, holding her gaze. She drew your finger into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it, ensuring every drop of herself was savored while tears spilled from the creases of her eyes while you fucked her throat with your finger.

With a soft pop, you pulled your finger back, using your thumb to brush the excess salina from her lips. “I taste…so fucking good,” she whispered, breathless, before pulling you in for a kiss, sharing the taste of her with you.

Your tongues danced together as your now lubricated finger found its way back down,  and you teased her entrance briefly before going deeper, making her let out a gasp against your mouth. 

You kept a steady rhythm, her moans mixing with the sound of your movements. Her head fell back, and she guided your mouth to her neck.

Aeri let out a loud moan into your ear, pausing a bit as your digit inched deeper and deeper inside her.

Once fully inside, “You okay?” You asked, your voice laced with genuine concern

“Mhm,” she winced with pleasure “More than okay”

You pulled her back in for a kiss as you continued to keep pumping into her, keeping a steady pace.

The noises from her dripping wet cunt and her loud moans filled her bedroom and she gently pushed your head from her neck/mouth towards her milky white breasts

“Please~ I need you to.. Suck on them” 

Well... Who were you to deny your beautiful girlfriend?

You took one of her perky nubs into your mouth, using your front teeth to slightly nibble on them, causing her to moan louder than before as you felt her tighten around your finger.

“Oh~ Y/n.. please.. Please don’t stop.. I’m so” her sentence was interrupted by another lewd moan as you finger hooked at the right angle, finding her G-spot

“Fuckfuckfuck baby! P-plea~” she let out, her hand digging her nails into the back of your neck and upper back (probably) drawing blood

You pulled your mouth away from her nipple, “Are you going to be my good girl and say my name when you cum?” You said, looking up at her

You noticed she gasped in shock as her nipple suddenly lost the warmth from your mouth, brows furrowing even more

Desperately she tried to push you back on to her nipple, she was so close to her high but needed your mouth so~ badly to reach it.

“Yesyes ah~ fuck baby! I’ll be your good girl and cum.. Ah~ just for you” She used her free hand. desperately rubbing her clit

Your name felt like sweet honey as it rolled off her tongue, you couldn’t help but insatiably pump faster in her. Her moans, the wet sounds from her dripping wet cunt, along with the thought of her screaming your name. You almost finished right then and there.

“Oh fuck, Y/n y/n y/n,” she screamed out like some sort of mantra, “I’m gon-”

“You gonna cum just for me?” You bit into her neck, sucking and marking her as yours while moaning right into her ear.

“Yesyesyes, I’m.. fuck~!  all yours Y/n~!” she yelped, she tightened around your fingers as her juices pooled into the palm of your hand and you gently slowed down the pace to ride her high as long as possible while she cried into your neck.

After a moment, She shuttered from her high and found herself in the crook of your neck for a bit, while both of you caught your breath for a second. She winced a bit as you removed your digit from her wetness and sucked it off quickly before wrapping your arms around her.

Another moment passed and a surge of embarrassment rushed through you as you realized her neighbors most definitely knew your name now. The sole thought of that  made your cheeks heat up.

Moments of silence passed of you both catching your breath, you finally calmed down and  gave her a soft kiss on the forehead before wrapping your arms around her fully. She sighed contentedly, her fingers tracing light, lazy patterns on your shoulder near your back.

In the quiet that followed, with both of you still laying there, you broke the silence. “Are you okay, baby?” you asked, your voice (still) breathless but full of tenderness as you looked down at her.

She nodded, smiling softly as she nuzzled closer. “More than okay,” she murmured, her voice laced with warmth. “Are you okay?

“Yeah” You gave her another kiss on the cheek “ I’m just.. A bit surprised” a sly smile crept on your lips

She looked up at you, sweat glistening off her skin while her hair stuck to her and raised a warning eyebrow as if she was thinking 'watch what you say', “mhm?”

“Ya know... for as mean as you are,  I never expected you to beg like that” you teased

“Oh, you shut the fuck up!” she laughed, giving your shoulder a playful smack, which only prompted you to wrap her up in your arms as a reflexive defense.

“I’m for sure putting you in your place tonight,” she murmured, her voice low and rich with desire as she pulled you in for a deep and needy kiss.

[kotohq]

##. BABY, THINGS I WANNA SAY TO YOU

♡ How you (accidentally) came to know his feelings for you

♡ Contents & warnings: secondhand embarrassment (major on hiiragi and umemiya's part), unestablished relationships but implied mutual feelings, humor (this was not written seriously), manga character spoilers, not proofread, reader is addressed as pretty (umemiya) 

♡ Characters: sakura haruka, kaji ren, hiiragi touma, suou hayato, umemiya hajime (xgn! reader)

To be honest, Sakura Haruka is truly the king of not being subtle about his feelings. This boy will literally stare (he thinks it’s a stare, but he doesn’t know he’s furrowing his brows and squinting his eyes like he’s glaring at you) at you at every wake moment that you two are in each other’s presence but when you turn your head to acknowledge his presence, he flushes a deep shade of red and comically turns his head away to avert his gaze from yours. 

And, of course, having someone bore holes into the side of your head isn’t a particularly nice feeling so one day you jokingly confront him by saying: “hey, Sakura-kun, why are you always staring at me? Are you in love with me or something?” and you swear you meant it as a joke, and you fully expected him to call you stupid and tell you to stop joking around. But!! When the only reaction you pulled out of him were flustered stammers and reddened ears, you knew you accidentally threw the dart right on the bullseye. 

As if things weren’t awkward enough, he had to poorly defend himself (and confirm his infatuation further) by saying “and what of it?! What if it’s true that I like you, huh?!” congratulations on the first “oh.” moment of your life, you’ll have to pay for it by communicating with this boy. Good luck and don’t tease him too much because he might explode.   

Ah, yes. Kaji Ren. The king of not confessing. He’s not someone who falls in love or falls out of love easily so he’s probably been pining over you since middle school, and everyone who went to the same middle school with him probably knows how dumb in love he is with you. 

And that is why Ren’s good friend since middle school, Sako, broke into a sweat when he accidentally came across Ren, after accidentally meeting you. The thing is, Sako also considers you a good friend from middle school, so when he met you by accident while walking around to find the new trendy dessert, he didn’t deny your invitation to hang out. And that is because he didn’t take into account that this will happen, that his good friend would see him walking around with said good friend’s crush. It’s only when he meets eyes with Ren that he realizes how bad everything looks. You and Sako, hanging out. Just the two of you. 

At the sight of Ren’s shock-widened eyes, Sako, feels his panic meter rising to 100 real quick. He’s not about to be dubbed as someone who steals his friends’ crush, not today.

“D-don’t get the wrong idea! I met them by accident while walking aroundー” he blurts out in a haze of alarm, briefly turning his head to you for confirmation. You give a nod, and he continues his panicked rambling, which is probably the worst single decision he’s ever going to make in his entire 15 years of living.

“ーand there’s no way I’ll go on a date with someone that you’ve liked for 3 years!”

Immediately after hearing Sako’s explanation, you and Ren chime a “what?” simultaneously. you in confusion, and Ren in disbelief because no way those years he spent pining over you was just outed like that. And then Sako makes some half baked excuse to leave you two alone to talk as if he wasn't the one who made this mess in the first place, like wtf bro clean it up. Good luck communicating with this one too, assuming he hasn’t run off in embarrassment, that is. 

Hiiragi Touma the chad!! He actually has the balls to confess, I love this man. He planned it meticulously too, like what he’s gonna say, at what place, what his reply is gonna be depending on your answer, yada yada, you name it, he’s got it all prepared. And right now the timing is right, he’s got you in a secluded place so he can save both of you the embarrassment of having anyone hear an intimate moment, he’s even got his hand latched onto your wrist too. He gulps a bile in his throat so he doesn’t stutter when he tells you exactly what he’s been dying to tell you. 

“Listen, I have something to tell you,” he sucks in a heavy breath, he feels like his lung is gonna run out of air soon from the nervousness. He’s prepared, he just needs to say it. say the three words.

“I like—” “oh, Hiiragi! You already confessed to them? Good for you.” 

Hiiragi doesn’t think he’s ever felt his nervousness disappear so fast before, immediately being replaced by anger and pure exasperation. His brain stopped thinking about how your wrist fits nicely in his hand and has instead started repeating the phrase “fuck you, umemiya hajime”. 

The glare he gives the Boufuurin leader is harder than any punch he’s thrown in his life and it effectively makes Umemiya disappear behind whatever wall he came from. Feeling awkward and bad for him, you initiate a conversation. 

“Hiiragi-” “sorry,” he cuts you off, sinking down to the floor in a squat as absolute exhaustion takes over him, his free hand going up to cover his face. “Sorry. Just… give me a minute and I'll confess to you properly.” 

Hiiragi is relieved though when he feels your wrist sliding up from his hand, moving to intertwine your fingers with his. Maybe everything will be okay, after all. Still, fuck umemiya hajime indeed. read the room, man.

Suou Hayato is the king of confessing. Or, he would be, if he didn’t treat it as a joke and asked you to date him everyday jokingly. Now he finds himself stuck in a complicated situation where you don’t ever take his confession(s) seriously and he’s quite in a pinch because he really likes you and wants to seriously date you. He can’t blame anyone but himself, though, because who the hell says “just kidding” after literally confessing that he likes you. Not only that, but he’s setting himself up by saying “let’s date” everyday in such a carefree way that you can’t take it seriously. 

Truth to be told, Hayato keeps asking you out because he's still holding on to the hope that something miraculous might happen and you’ll take him seriously. So far, though, it isn’t looking any good. Woe is he. Sorry man, you set yourself up for this yearning. 

His yearning gets so bad that one day when he finds you asleep on your desk after school with your head nestled between your arms on top of your desk, he sits on the chair in front of your desk. His hands found themselves mindlessly wandering to your hair, twirling a strand between his fingers and watching the sunset illuminating your hair. He observes your sleeping face for a while, before his hands reach out to give your cheek a gentle poke. He chuckles when you make a funny face and turn your sleeping face away from him. He doesn’t even know why he does what he does next, but he gets close to your head, stopping just beside whatever part of your ear is exposed. Then, he whispers, voice lacking the teasing lilt that it’s usually bathed in. 

“You don’t know how much I actually want to date you.” 

“Do you really mean that?” he realizes he kinda fucked up but it’s okay because at least you’re aware of his feelings now.

And then Hayato realizes how silly he’s acting so he grabs your shoulder to shake you awake. He gets surprised, though, when your hand suddenly grasps his, holding him in place before he could pull back (let's be real he doesn’t want to, though.). 

Umemiya Hajime does have the courage to confess, though. But he’s also kind of afraid that you might not see him in the same way and it’s gonna change his friendship with you so he’d rather wait until he’s certain his feelings aren’t one sided. 

But all that logical reasoning gets thrown out of the window when he catches sight of you playing with the orphanage kids. He’s a family man through and through so of course that kinda stops the gears in his head from turning. In any case, though, he’s happy to see you getting along with his younger siblings, though, ecstatic even. Like, it’s to the point that he doesn’t realize he’s staring at you with such a lovesick smile that he might as well make the “hearts in eyes” phrase a real phenomenon. 

“I can’t wait to confess to you.” the words trickle from his mouth without consent from his, y’know, logical reasoning. Panic takes over momentarily before he realizes you didn’t hear what he just said because your ears are probably full of the children’s laughter. 

You didn't hear. But some of his younger siblings did. 

“Onii-chan, is that person the one you like?” as if it wasn’t bad enough that you heard the question, the little girl had to also point straight into your direction. Well, it wouldn’t have mattered if they did or not anyway because the only two teenagers in the room are you and hajime. 

“Oh so they’re the one you talk about with heart eyes!” One pipes up. “right! The person whose eyes would sparkle when the sun hits them.” Another one follows. “and the person whose hair looks especially beautiful when it’s illuminated by the setting sun!” You get the gist.

Hajime would think about how cute his younger siblings look with their eyes sparkling with excitement if it weren’t for the fact that he can’t think of anything else because his mind is filled with the sound of his racing heart.

The fact that he talks about you to his younger siblings is exposed in bright daylight, and you’re looking at him with a surprised expression etched on your pretty face.

The discovery his younger siblings made did nothing but successfully make them gush over you even more. Well, who could blame them, their older brother’s crush is right in front of them. Deepest condolences, though, because children are always unnecessarily nosy and stubborn so they’re gonna end up matchmaking you and Hajime. You bet they’re not gonna let you go until you both confess to one another, right in front of them. What a nightmare. 

[honnelander]

go fish!

so i fell in love with Sanji just like everyone else. i've never seen the one piece anime or read the manga so i'm solely going off of the live action. i had fun writing this and plan to make this a series of some sorts where it's a fem!reader x Sanji moments of awkwardness, fluff, and mutual pining because i love reading that stuff myself. if anyone has any suggestions or requests for this series please leave a comment or send me an ask!

WARNINGS: none

word count: 1.3k

pairing: opla!sanji x reader

summary: reader and Usopp are playing a card game when Sanji finds them. teasing ensues.

prequel part 2 part 3 part 4 masterlist

“Care for a refreshment, Madam?” a smooth, deep familiar voice asked to your left, breaking your concentration on the card game in front of you. 

“Hm?” you looked up from the cards in your hand and saw the Going Merry’s own chef looking down at you with a crooked, charming smile as he held a chilled glass bottle of water in his hand. “Oh, hey Sanji,” you greeted quickly with your usual smile as you looked back down at your hand. “What’d you say? Go fish Usopp.” 

Your opponent across the barrel from you grumbled as he took the top card off the deck sitting between you both. 

“I was just asking if the lovely madam sitting here would like a nice, cold refreshment on this particularly hot day?” Sanji asked again with a hint of amusement, his crooked smile deepening as he watched you study your hand once again. 

“’Lovely madam’?” Usopp repeated sarcastically, his eyebrows pulling together. “What about offering her super buff, brave, and heroic opponent an ice-cold beverage instead?” 

“Nope,” Sanji corrected, popping the 'p'. “Ladies first Usopp. Always.” 

Even after knowing Sanji for a couple of months now, his consistent chivalry always managed to make your heart flutter.  

You laughed lightly and couldn’t help but smirk as you said with a matter-of-fact, teasing tone, “Just say you wish you were a girl, Usopp. No judgment here.” You paused for a moment before asking, “You got the five of spades?” 

“Now even though I would make an extremely attractive, gorgeous woman, I am a man through and through.” A grin broke out on Usopp’s face as he glanced at his hand and triumphantly called out, “Go fish, y/n.” 

“Fair enough,” you hummed as you reached for a card. “And yes Sanji, I would love a glass of cold water. Thank you.” You shot a quick look of gratitude the chef’s way as you took a card from the deck. 

Sanji placed the two glasses onto your makeshift barrell-table top he was holding in his left hand and started filling up the glasses with water. “Of course. Anything for the missus.” 

Missus. Ugh. It made your heart skip a beat to hear him call you that. But you knew he didn’t really mean anything by it. It was just how Sanji spoke, forever the gentleman. 

“Oof. If you keep sweet talking like that Sanji, you’re going to even make me blush, just like y/n,” Usopp joked. 

Your eyes widened as your eyes snapped to look at your dumbass crewmate and friend sitting across from you. “I- I am not blushing Usopp!” God, if you both were using a real table instead of a barrel right now you would’ve broken his shine with your foot. You really weren’t blushing before but Usopp’s stupid comment definitely made your cheeks heat up now. “It’s the heat,” you hissed.  

“’Heat’,” he mocked with air quotes and snorted. “Right.” 

“I-” before you could defend yourself, Sanji spoke up. 

“Actually,” the blonde chef chimed in with a light laugh as he filled the second glass, “that’s why I came over in the first place. You were looking a little flushed y/n, so I thought you guys could use a cold drink.” 

Sanji’s words caused both you and Usopp to look up from your cards simultaneously, making eye contact with each other. A mischievous grin started to form on Usopp’s face as he saw the blush deepen on your face. You quickly looked back to your hand, suddenly finding the eight of clovers card extremely interesting.  

Sanji saw you looking flushed? He saw you? From across the deck? From inside the kitchen’s window? He was watching you play cards? The thought of Sanji watching you when you didn’t expect him to made your stomach erupt in butterflies, and it certainly didn’t make your stupid little crush on him go away. Just the opposite. In fact, it just fueled your delusional fantasy even more.  

And it certainly didn’t help that the only person who knew about your crush on the head chef just so happened to have a big mouth and loved to tease you about it any chance he got. And that he was sitting right across from you right now, watching all of this unfold right in front of him. 

“Oh? So you were watching y/n and I play cards out here?” Usopp innocently asked his blonde crewmate, but you knew better. There wasn’t an ounce of true curiosity in his tone whatsoever. 

“Yeah, from the kitchen,” Sanji answered casually as he recapped the glass water bottle. 

“Usopp,” you warned. 

“And you said that she looked ‘flushed’?” Usopp asked, quirking a brow at the end of his question as he turned his gaze from you to Sanji. 

Sanji blinked in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together for a second before looking down at his crewmate. “Yeah...” he said slowly before continuing, “Her cheeks looked a little pink so I figured-” 

“Oh?” Usopp asked, his voice becoming louder. “You noticed the color of her cheeks, from that far away?” 

“Usopp,” you hissed louder but it fell on deaf ears. Once your friend got on a roll, there was little anyone could do about it. Especially when it came to teasing you about your feelings for Sanji. 

“Yeah,” Sanji replied to Usopp’s question with a confused smile. “What are you-” 

“GO FISH!” you blurted out loudly, cutting Sanji off and having both men turn their eyes towards you.  

“Huh?” Usopp blinked his eyes at you, suddenly remembering the game in front of him. “But I didn’t even ask you anything y/n. And you just drew a card, so it’s your turn to ask me.” 

You let out a quiet sigh of relief at the fact that Usopp stopped grilling Sanji with all of those embarrassing questions right in front of you....even though you couldn’t help but perk up at the fact that Sanji in fact had been watching you from the kitchen, and that he was sweet enough to bring you (and Usopp) some water.  

“Well, I tried,” you shrugged and lied, “but you just kept yapping so you didn’t hear me. Do you have the Queen of hearts?” 

Usopp studied you for a brief moment before looking at his cards, smirking to himself. “You know y/n, it’s funny you asked about the Queen of hearts,” he said as he plucked the requested card from his hand and reached out to give it to you, “since you make heart eyes yourself whenever you look at-” 

“GOOD game Usopp!” you practically yelled as you threw your cards down onto the barrel and stood up, hoping your outburst drowned out the name Usopp was about to so stupidly blurt out. You shook his free hand with both of yours as you said, “You totally win my friend.” 

“What?” Sanji laughed slightly as he watched you and Usopp shake hands. The poor guy was as confused as ever. “But the game isn’t over.” 

You looked Usopp dead in the eye as tightened your grip on his hand. “Oh no, it’s over. He definitely won.”  

Yeah, he won alright. He won the game of making your life a living hell and embarrassing you in front of Sanji. He won the gold medal in that game. 

“I sure did,” Usopp agreed triumphantly, putting his cards down. 

You dropped his hand and took the glass of cold water that Sanji had so generously poured, the cold glass making you feel better already. “Thank you for this Sanji. I think I’ll go enjoy this on my hammock inside.” 

You couldn’t bear to look at Sanji, feeling humiliated for no reason with your face on fire, you stepped away from the barrel sipping your water as you made your way across the deck towards the ship’s living quarters.  

“Yeah, that’s a good idea y/n!” Usopp called, giddy from the high that could only come from successfully teasing a friend. “Maybe that’ll help calm down your flushed face!” 

Before stepping inside, you flipped off a laughing Usopp, completely missing the brief look of disappointment in Sanji’s eyes as he watched you go. 

[rinnstars]

just right!

you think youre too much for rin, and rin thinks hes too little for you

itoshi rin x reader: pre-rs, friends to lovers, mutual pining, angst w comfort, fluff at the end!!!!, not proofread + likes n reblogs are appreciated <3

its fate you think for things to remain the same with rin. after all, why wish for more? the hands that lay beside each other as you sit on the bench eating your lunch that seems to almost touch to start an electric shock that course through your body, the conversations that tiptoe the line between just friends to something much closer to soulmates the way yours and his brain seem to sync perfectly as one, the way the universe seem to put you two in the same orbit from going to the same school, to moving to the same neighbourhood, to sitting next to each other every class every semester - you should be satisfied, no you should be thankful for the luck that you must have gotten from finding a four-leaved clover the same day you met rin at the playground you think.

to anyone else, hell even to you, you two are no peas in the same pod. youre the polar opposite of him - you make friends easily like its second nature (but in your heart, they just don’t merge as well as you do with rin), you smile at every single thing, laughter bursting out of you without a single hesitation (but with rin, you think its your real laughter that flows out rather than out of politeness or awkwardness), you dress a little too eccentric with different and contrasting colours against the plain and boring uniform that seems out of place. and he’s the polar opposite of you - he practically hangs out with out because he has no one else (that makes you wonder if he’s just here because he has no one else), he has a resting frown on his face (that you think makes him even more adorable from the side of your peripheral vision), and he always wear that boring black bag that matches perfectly with the plain old school uniform.

sometimes you wonder if youre too much - you talk a little too much that you think his lips hide a grimace when it moves just a little from the frown that is always held tightly on his face, you ask too much, always wanting to hang out after school right before he has to run to football practice, you think too much, always asking questions that seem to make his face scrunch up in confusion during class or at the bench as you are right now. to anyone, this would be ideal right? its practically the dynamic being pushed in mangas and online - golden retriever with a black cat, that tiktok trend of okokok and lalala, yapper and listener dynamic. yet, you can’t help but to realise you two really don’t seem to belong in the same world - you long to stay here right in this neighbourhood that you practically memorised each and every store and their owners by heart, you long to just be another face in the crowd writing for the rest of your life but one that brightens and blooms others with your presence, and you long to live in a little cute house opposite that convenience store that you go to school everyday after school with rin, and you know he longs to spend his life overseas being a football stars, he longs to be the new football genius and prodigy in the entire world, and he longs to live anywhere but this town that seems a little too small for him. its ironic, you think, that your ambitions and personality are totally opposite, yet the world chose to put you and him right next to each other, even temporary.

and sooner or later you think, your feelings, that you know are too much for just another friend of yours, will burst - you might yell at him, hidden emotions kept away at the burning frustrations with each hint that lingers a little too long, you might cry and sob one day at one of your regular sleepover and become inconsolable as he realises that youre really too much, or one day you might really unconsciously confess your love for him and ruin this perfect dynamic that has already been served to you on a silver platter. and so you keep a lid on your feelings, you rather write and tear up papers in your room and clean up the mess before he comes over, you rather spend nights alone crying and cursing the world for not making you a little more like him so you could at least have the ambitions that rivals and chases after his, and you rather throw away countless of love letters that you wrote every valentine you spent with him. but for now, you’ll keep quiet, you’ll sit down here with your hands so close that you might just get a electric shock either way, you’ll eat your sandwich that matches with his, you’ll look at him with the same smile that he’s gotten used to as he chews on the sugary-sweet fruit sandwich that leaves a little white cream stain on his lips.

rin thinks that he really should thank whatever god there is out there as he sits here with you beside him, your hands so close to his that he practically has to physically hold himself back from moving a little closer until his and yours merge and fit perfectly like a puzzle piece, your unconcious hum that seem like music to his ears practically relieve him of all the stress that was unconsciously held even after mediation, right on the bench that is practically yours and his the way you and him come to eat here every lunch without any exceptions.

hes aware of lingering glances by his classmates on you and him - and he knows its judgemental and nothing kind to him. the whispers when you come to his table every time class ends as though on instincts whilst all he does is sit down there and do nothing but listen to you, the whispers when he sees you waiting at the library quietly before you brighten up when your eyes meet his, the whispers when you’re with him. maybe its insecurity, but he knows he’ll never be enough. he thinks youre better off with anyone but him - better off with your club members who understand your passion for writing and share with you their favourite writings compared to him who writes simply in order to one day move overseas as a professional football player, better off with your other classmates that actually pay attention in class unlike him who can better help you and do your homework with rather than sitting down at his table whilst he reads another football magazine, better off with even those guy classmates that he cant stand because of their loud voices because at least they seem to match your energy. even more, he thinks hes really a terrible friend, not even considering his crush on you, when he hears you chat about something excitedly only to trail off whenever youre with him, when he feels you pull yourself a little too fast from the hug you initiate compared to anyone else, when he knows youre terrified to say something but he can do nothing but stay here.

on some days, he wonders if you’ll eventually leave him too. he knows its for the better - you’ll get to know other people that can actually care and love you the way he knows he can’t with how bad he is at expressing himself, you’ll get to chat and talk someone’s ears off much happily without any judgement the way that you seem to be unable to do so with him, you’ll no longer have to hold your own personality back anymore. but deep down, he doesn’t want that. he doesn’t want to be left behind again - alone on the park bench with a ghost of you as he bites into the now bitter-sweet fruit sandwich that he deep down doesn’t really like but eats for you, alone on the table as you move about excitedly all cheerily to talk to anyone but him the one beside you, alone in his room having to play horror games all alone listen to the playlist he made for you all alone. now that he knows what it feels like to have someone, he doesn’t want to be alone anymore especially after he finds out how deep it can hurt - feeling as though his corpse sometimes still lay in the winter snow right where his brother left him.

and as he feels the red strings around yours and his finger pull harder and harder as though youre about to run away, he slowly feels more desperate to hold onto whatever little of this relationship is left. he knows logically, all friendships comes to an end, but he has always defied whatever the universe has set up for him - holding onto an impossible and thrown away dream of being better than his genius of an older brother, holding onto am faraway dream of being the world’s best striker right by his brother side and now holding onto a crumbling dream of staying right beside you for the rest of his life. he knows hes too little, and he knows there’s someone else better in this world than yours, after all youre only teenagers and nothing more than that could come out it. he knows he cant give you the world that you deserve, cant give you everything you want right now or maybe even in the future, but hes selfish. and of course its on another boring school day he gets this realisation, when he sees you peek at him without a word, as though you two are no longer in the same orbit anymore.

“you said you had something to tell me right?” a conversation starter, he tries, even though he normally doesn’t start the conversation, and he knows its still not enough, it’ll never be enough in his eyes.

“um… right… i..” and god, did you curse yourself. making it awkward, overthinking it - was that stuttering too much? did it annoy him?

its silence that follows afterwards - you don’t want to be too much to just confess your feelings, its just another day to him and you wouldn’t want to ruin it all selfishly. and in contrast, he no longer wants to be too little, he grips onto the plastic that leaves a little cream stain on his fingers.

“you know.. you can tell me anything.” and god, now he thinks he sounds pathetic and desperate, but your expression doesn’t seem to change from that expression that doesn’t suit your face at all - in contrast to the cheery expression you should always be sporting, you’re biting your lips nervously as though you two are in an examination room instead of at the park bench as per usual. has he messed up?

“i.. wait.. don’t freak out first.. promise?” an warning - because you know once you say it, there’s no going back. a risk you should take, a risk that you’ve seen taken right below this tree too ironically by classmates who profess their immature and yet undying love to their partners. would you be too much? you think ruin has rubbed off you a little too much when your mind tells no yells at you to be a little more selfish.

“promise.” he thinks he sees you smile a little, and he thinks hes gone back to his childhood where you and him first met - making a pinkie promise after you two fell down together to always stay together because it was fate to meet as you both fell down from the parkour part of the playground.

“.. i like you. a lot.” and of course youre too much, youre just a little too dramatic to add the additional bit that seems to slip off your tongue so naturally with countless of practice and failed attempts in front of your mirror in your room before collapsing on your bed kicking your feet and yelling against your pillow.

“i like you too. romantically.” and he thinks hes too little, such an anticlimactic return of love in contrast to all the love mangas you’ve talked to him about - no flowers, no necklaces, no nothing in his hand. but he sees your face bloom into a flower like as you grin, he thinks its alright.

you think youre too much and he thinks hes too little - but together, you’ll be just enough for each other - you both think, your hands and his moving together as electricity flows through yours and his body as though its the world way of telling you that both of you are made for each other, your face and his linger so close before finally you two cross the line as your lips merge with his perfectly as though you two are truly soulmates, and you think perhaps that the two four-leave clovers wasn’t just for you two to be friends for the rest of your life but something more as you tie it to his and yours wrist all those years back, it brushing against each other.

[lovelyhan]

— again and again ⟢

pairing: mingyu x reader

summary: your mother calls one day, asking if you’re bringing mingyu along for chuseok this year. in your panic, you end up giving her an affirmative—never mind the fact that you and mingyu have stopped seeing each other over half a year ago.

word count: 15.7k words

tags: exes, fake dating, mutual pining, idol!gyu, vet!reader, mild angst, fluff, smut

warnings: medical jargon, mentions of shots (for pets), mentions of snake bites, graphic sexual content (minors dni!!)

notes: i wrote this with bss' 7pm on loop for two straight days. nothing like the sweet taste of yearning <3 this also wasn't extensively proofread, so if you spot a few mistakes, i implore you to ignore them EJWHJHSDF

this is part of the doting on you! series.

smut tags: vanilla, mingyu is super whipped, praise kink, service top gyu, dirty talk, nicknames (babygirl, sweetheart, sweet thing), overstimulation, multiple rounds, unprotected sex, creampie, heads up that the filth is at the very end tho

taglist: @cherrycheolie1995 - @ashkuuuu - @potatofrieswithketchup - @christinewithluv - @fancypoisonapple - @odetoyeonjun - @minnie-mouser22 - @etherealyoungk - @davoraciousreader - @mariondior - @hella-sirius - @coveyland - @marlow234 - @dobomiyeon - @belysusonrisa - @wonderfulshinee - @misssugarlips - @yourfavoritefreakyhan - @jeanjacketjesus - @just-here-to-read-01 - @hanihans - @venusrae - @taestrwbrry - @seoksoop - @dreamhannies - @renjunphile - @thvhannie - @kkooongie - @acgyu - @gae-uls - @pluviophile-xxx - @lenireads - @gaebestie - @ryusha-rose - @yutadae - @smileyjimvn

additional notes: you might want to check your visibility settings if you can't be tagged!

When you hear the telltale ring as the call connects to its intended recipient, you wonder why you even considered this idea in the first place. Not to mention, you’re getting a nasty case of phone call anxiety—one that you haven’t felt in god knows how long. Maybe it’s because of the identity of the person you’re calling that your nerves are all over the place. 

In fact, you’re not sure if he’s even going to answer. There are a million and a half reasons why famous superstar Kim Mingyu won’t be able to pick up your call. He could be shooting for a music video or some fashion magazine. He could be in the middle of an interview. Or he could be out spending time with his members like tends to these days if his recent Instagram posts are anything to go by. 

But you try anyway because your mother sounded so hopeful in the phone call you just hung up on five minutes ago (The rice wine he got for us last Christmas was splendid! He’ll bring some again for Chuseok, won’t he?), that you just didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth.

So, because you can’t take back the pretty white lies you uttered (Uh, of course he will. Gyu told me he missed everyone back at home, too. Especially Namja), you’re attempting to rope Mingyu into the charade even if the odds are against you.

The first call doesn’t go through. Neither does the second. 

By your third try, you’re about to accept the fact that you’re going to have to make some due corrections to what you told your mother until you hear a groggy, “Hello?” on the other line. 

You nearly fall off your seat at the throaty sound of Mingyu’s voice, but you’d rather not get weird looks from your receptionist, so you breathe in as deeply (and quietly) as you can before mustering a smile that he won’t even be able to see.

“Hey, Mingyu, it’s me,” you begin, a bit proud of how your voice didn’t even falter. “It’s been a while. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

He doesn’t respond for a while, and the prolonged silence makes you bite the inside of your cheek. Did the call fall through? Did he not hear what you said? But just when you’re about to repeat the words—

“Kind of,” Mingyu grumbles, and you try not to think about how sexy his morning voice sounds despite it being two in the afternoon. “We finished taping a variety show today and I figured I’d get some sleep. It’s midnight right now.”

Well that’s news to you.

“Oh. You’re not in Korea?”

“Nah. We’re in New York for some brand collaborations,” he says, and you hear some rustling in the background, followed by a yawn. “Though I doubt you’ve been keeping tabs on us.” 

Okay, he doesn’t have to call you out like that.

Sure, you still catch posts from Mingyu, as well as the other twelve members of SEVENTEEN from time to time, but…after breaking up with him (on good terms, promise!), you thought it’s best if you didn’t see too much of them anymore. The block and mute buttons are your best friends, and while you didn’t use them on the members directly, gossip outlets were your regular targets.

So to speak, it’s been a peaceful six months since your break up with Mingyu. 

Until now.

“Do you need something?” he asks, and you realize you didn’t respond to what he said last. “Whatever it is, I might not be able to help you out right away. We’re holed up here until next month.”

Well…that’s all the confirmation you needed.

“I see,” you sigh, trying not to sound too disappointed. “It’s— It’s okay.”

“So you do need something,” Mingyu points out, voice much clearer now than it was two minutes ago. Like he was more awake. “What is it?”

“Nothing you should worry about, Gyu,” you reassure before making a face, not realizing how easily the old nickname just slipped out. “I’m sorry for waking you up. You should go back to—”

The sound of him whining at the other end sends another rush of vertigo through your entire being. “Come on, I’m awake anyways right? You know how hard it is for me to fall asleep again.”

“If I’d known we weren’t in the same continent, I wouldn’t have called altogether,” you say before quaintly adding, “Shit. This counts as an international call, doesn’t it?”

There’s someone else in the room with him, you think—a quiet drawl of Mingyu-hyung, what time is it? You immediately recognize it as Seungkwan. 

“Five minutes past midnight,” Mingyu says, and Seungkwan asks another question that you aren’t able to catch. “Who am I talking to? Bookkeu and Bobpul’s worst enemy.”

“Hey!” You scowl at him. “They never even whined when you and Seungkwan brought them to me for their shots!”

“Noona? Why are you calling this guy?” Seungkwan says a bit more loudly for you to hear. “Didn’t you dump him already? Good choice, by the way.” 

This time it’s Mingyu’s turn to utter out a semi-offended, “Hey! Mind your own business, Seungkwan-ah.”

A few minutes of bickering with his dongsaeng later, you figure that Mingyu must’ve gone outside of their hotel room for some privacy. You can vaguely hear the sound of the wind blowing on his end before he heaves a deep sigh.

“Sorry about that.” He coughs awkwardly. “Anyway, if you’re not going to tell me about what you needed help with, how are you? Is the clinic doing well? Did your receptionist finally ditch her shitty boyfriend? Does that one guy with a husky still hit on you?”

You’re a little overwhelmed by the sudden influx of questions. Last you checked, you haven’t spoken to Mingyu since you greeted him on his birthday over a quick text message. But then again, your ex does have a talent for completely ignoring the time that exists in between interactions. Mingyu’s always been amicable for conversation, idol or not, boyfriend or not. 

The mere thought that he hasn’t changed at all makes your heart ache in more ways than one.

You manage a quiet laugh. “I’m fine. The clinic’s fine. Chae has a new boyfriend now. He even helps us sort out new products on the shelves sometimes.”

At the mention of her name, your receptionist whips her head in your direction, one brow raised. You shake your head with a smile, gesturing that this is nothing she should even be remotely concerned about. 

It’s just Mingyu after all.

“Okay, how about the guy who—”

“I turned him down when he asked me out for lunch last week.”

He whistles. “Ouch. And he’s been trying to get with you all this time.”

“I don’t usually date my clients, you know.”

“Yeah? I must be special then.”

Then comes the silence—so thick, you can cut through it with a knife. 

“Uh, so I have a patient coming in an hour for a castration procedure,” you tell him a bit awkwardly. “Gotta prepare everything before the owner arrives.”

Mingyu sighs, and you can almost imagine him pouting. “You’re really not gonna tell me? I can still help you with whatever you need even when I’m out here. Unless it requires me to, you know, physically be there.”

You chuckle. “That’s the thing, Gyu. You can’t help me because I need you to actually be here.”

“Oh. Why? What for?”

You inhale sharp breath through your nose, closing your eyes as your face warms with embarrassment. Chae is definitely looking at you funnily from her station now, but you tell yourself not to give it too much thought.

“Mom asked if I was bringing you with me for Chuseok,” you admit. “I haven’t been home since Christmas, so… They kind of have no idea that we aren’t together anymore.”

Mingyu falls silent for a while yet again, and you realize that your anxiousness spikes whenever he isn’t talking like there’s no tomorrow. You wonder if he’s figured out what you’re trying to insinuate and is silently berating you for the lapse in judgment. But when Mingyu bursts out laughing on the other end, you suddenly don't mind being on the receiving end of his silence after all.

“No way,” he gasps between chuckles. “You were going to ask me to pretend to be your boyfriend over the holidays, weren’t you?! One of the fans wrote a story about the exact same thing once, except it’s between me and Wonwoo-hyung. It was in English though, but Vernon translated it pretty well.”

…Kim Mingyu admitting to reading fanfiction about himself and Wonwoo aside, you groan. “What am I supposed to do? My family loves you. I’d rather not dampen the Chuseok spirit by saying their favorite son has unfortunately made his unannounced exit half a year ago.”

“So you’re willing to pretend we’re still together just to keep them happy?”

“Well, yeah. It’s not like you’re an ex I should be ashamed of, Gyu.”

“Because I’m an idol that millions are vying for?” 

You roll your eyes. “No. It’s because out of all my exes, you’re the only one that Namja actually likes. That’s pretty much the highest honor you can receive in your entire life.”

Your heart does a little flip when Mingyu barks out another light-hearted laugh. You tell yourself that you’re only reacting that way because…it has been a while since you talked to him. That, and Mingyu was always so smiley whenever you brought up your ten year-old retriever.

“Point taken,” he says. “I’d totally be down to help you out, but…yeah.”

“I knew you would be,” you reply, a sad smile ghosting your features. “That’s why I called.”

Silence settles over the line once again, but it’s, by no means, awkward. It’s more…sentimental. Like two old friends reminiscing about the good memories you shared. 

Huh. You’re friends with Mingyu…

“Anyway, thanks for catching up with me, Mingyu,” you tell him before you end up saying something you’re not supposed to. “I’ll get going now. Good night.”

“Hey—”

You end the call before he can have the chance to make you falter.

Right behind her desk, Chae looks up at you with a knowing look. You flash her a smile that silently pleads for her not to say a word, but your receptionist has always been on the frank side.

“Something’s telling me you’re still hung up on him, boss.”

Sighing, you push yourself back to your feet, tugging on the lapels of your crisp white coat. That might be true to some degree, but it’s not like you can do anything about it.

You and Mingyu live in two completely different worlds. It’s something that you both came to terms with when you broke up. You just had to accept the fact that there’s simply no efficient way to work around his busy schedules and the appointments you need to attend to at the clinic. 

It was the most unproblematic breakup you’ve ever had, and it’s with a famous idol. Who would’ve thought. 

“Anyway,” you tell Chae before nudging the door to the operating room open. “Care to help me look for the anesthetics? I can’t remember where I put them away last time…”

Your receptionist is most definitely judging you inside your head, but despite how straightforward she can be, Chae still knows when to drop it. After a few clicks on the clinic’s desktop computer, she joins you on the hunt for that pesky bottle of anesthesia without asking any intrusive questions.

You make a mental note to treat her to some coffee tomorrow.

…

One of the reasons you seldomly paid your hometown a visit is the hassle that comes with the entire commute.

First you have to endure the long queue to get tickets before sitting through an eight-hour train ride to the seaside town of Haenam. Then comes navigating the local bus routes and schedules that always seem to change every time you go home. 

When you made it out of the train station for this year’s Chuseok celebration, you didn’t even bother stressing yourself out with taking the bus back to your parents’ house—flagging down a taxi that definitely charged you a ridiculous rate in exchange for your utmost comfort instead. 

You try not to think about how easier it was last Christmas, when you and Mingyu took turns driving one of his company’s cars on the way here—laughing and singing along to their songs on the road like nothing else mattered.

The scent of salt hangs heavy in the breeze when you unload your baggage from the trunk of the taxi. You had the foresight to make the trip before midnight, so you’re rewarded with the sight of the sunrise breaking through the nearby ocean—light glittering across the horizon like it means to say welcome home. 

That’s what you should feel; like you’re at home. But the fact that you’re about to bring some disappointing news to the table regarding your breakup with Mingyu isn’t doing your peace of mind any favors. 

You contemplated coming clean about it to your parents over a phone call, but it seemed too…impersonal with how attached they’ve gotten to your ex-boyfriend. Having a significant other that your family absolutely adores seems like a double-edged sword now that you think about it.

Once the cab hits the road again, you stand in front of your family home with a wistful sigh. It’s barely past seven in the morning, but your father must already be at the pier—sorting out today’s catch with the other fishermen in town.

Your mother loves taking walks in the market even if she doesn’t have anything in particular to purchase for the day. They’re early risers by default. 

You can’t really say the same for your younger brother, Haneul, though. That one likes to sleep until noon. 

When you ring the doorbell outside, you expect to hear the sound of excited barking from the other side of the gate. Namja was always the first to welcome you back whenever you’re in town, and just thinking about reuniting with him quells your anxiousness a little. But surprisingly, you don’t hear the telltale noise of your family dog’s excitement. 

What you do hear is the sound of the screen door opening and slamming back shut—slippers being hastily slid on before the gate creaks open, revealing Haneul still sporting a bedhead as he rubs his eyes.

“You’re back,” he says a-matter-of-factly, like he isn’t even thrilled to see you, but you’re too surprised to see him up so early to quip about it. “Mom said you wouldn’t arrive until noon.”

“I wanted to make the most of my vacation leave,” you explain before looking around the garden inside. “Where’s Namja? Did Mom take him for a walk, too?”

Haneul hums before taking your luggage. “Hm. You can say that.”

“What does that even mean?”

As if on cue, your ears perk up at the sound of a familiar bark resounding from the end of the road. You quickly whip your head around to see your beloved golden retriever, Namja, wagging his tail excitedly at the sight of you before letting out another woof when you call out his name in glee.

However, the moment you realize who’s holding his leash, you suddenly feel like you got struck by lightning.

It’s Kim fucking Mingyu.

The sight of your ex-boyfriend just...standing there when he told you he was on the other side of the world sends a million thoughts surging through your head all at once.

You try not to think about how gorgeous he looks in the early morning light. Loose, long sleeved shirt that still emphasizes his muscular build despite. Hair having grown past his chin, curling slightly at the tips. And those stupid fucking canines that peek from his lips every time he grins. 

The bastard is just standing there with zero disguises, as if his existence in this place, at this point in time, doesn't throw a wrench in all of your plans.

What the hell is he even doing here?!

“Oh, sweetie, you’re back!”

The sound of your mother’s voice is, thankfully, enough to snap you out of your impending mental breakdown. You were so taken aback by Mingyu’s presence that you didn’t notice her standing next to him, carrying the bag she usually brings for her early market visits as she flashes you a warm smile. 

You can only stand there in shocked silence as your mother makes her way back to the house with your dog and ex-boyfriend in tow. Haneul was already inside, so you can’t exactly glare at him for not giving you a head’s up. But given that you still have no idea what on earth is going on, you’ll play along. For now.

“Are you surprised?” your mother giggles before patting Mingyu’s shoulder. “Mingyu here said he got off work for a while so he could celebrate with us!”

“Gee, I didn’t know about that,” you say dryly, unsure of what expression you should even wear. “I thought he was going to be in New York until next month.”

She laughs again. “Oh, he told me and your father to keep it a secret that he’s going back to Korea anyways. Seems like the surprise worked, didn’t it, Mingyu-ah?”

The culprit himself agrees with a minute nod before loosening his grip on Namja’s leash. 

Your goldie immediately bounds towards you at the first sign of freedom, bracing his paws on your stomach as he attempts to lick your neck. It’s enough to distract you from the current predicament at hand, making you sigh in defeat as you sink to your knees and receive Namja’s slobbery affection in its entirety. 

As you snuggle up to the family dog, Mingyu says, “What can I say? I missed Haenam a lot. The scenery, the family, Namja, but of course…”

You can only sit there in growing disbelief as Mingyu mirrors your movements. He crouches low enough so that your gazes are leveled before caressing your face with a tenderness that’s both familiar and foreign at the same time. 

“I missed her the most.”

This is all a charade—that’s what you can confirm from the limited clues he’s dropping for you to pick up on. You can try to figure out why he’s suddenly here in your hometown—having arrived earlier than you, from the looks of it—a little later.

What’s important is that Mingyu, ever-so helpful, is actually playing along with the act you not-so-jokingly told him about on the phone.

You should be glad. 

…But why do those words make your heart ache anyways?

“Of course you do,” you sigh before peeling yourself away from his touch, carrying Namja in your arms as if he doesn’t easily weigh thirty kilograms. “Come on. Let’s get back inside and help Mom prepare whatever she’s planning on cooking for lunch.”

Mingyu’s smile doesn’t falter despite your obvious dismissal of his affection. You remind yourself that he’s racked up a lot of acting gigs throughout his career, so it’s normal for him to be a natural at this. 

But even if you know that this is all an act, you can’t help the way your heart lurches when Mingyu scoops Namja out of your grasp—the mere brush of his skin on yours more electrifying than it should be.

Namja whines in your ex’s arms, pawing at his chest before licking a long stripe across his cheek. Mingyu bursts out laughing as he coos at him, and your chest burns with an indescribable feeling.

A few moments later, your mother starts gushing about how excited she is to have both of you in the kitchen with her again as she leads you back inside the house. But all that rings in your head is a broken mantra of Mingyu saying I missed her the most.

As if repeating the words enough times will make them come true.

...

It’s one thing to know that Mingyu is in Haenam when he’s supposed to be overseas.

It’s another thing to see his usual overnight bag at the foot of your unmade bed, making you realize that he definitely came here much earlier than you anticipated.

Mingyu is currently in the kitchen, helping your mother out with lunch prep while she insists that you get some sleep first. Though the trains that led to the southern provinces were designed to be more comfortable than the ones contained in Seoul, nothing defeats the comfort of your old childhood bed. 

Except when you’re made aware of the fact that your ex-boyfriend probably slept in it after making the trip all the way here. 

The sheets even smell like him. A hint of that expensive fragrance he never seems to get tired of laces your pillows, and warmth rushes to your face when you realize you’re breathing it in a bit too much. 

So what if Mingyu slept here, right? Your parents’ house doesn’t have a guest room, and this was probably the only room available.

Oh, and in your family’s eyes, Mingyu is still your boyfriend. There shouldn’t be anything weird about your boyfriend, who went out of his way to quote-unquote surprise you, sleeping in your room, on your bed, without your knowledge.

And there definitely isn’t an issue with having to sleep next to him on said bed come nightfall.

You totally got this.

An attempt to dissuade all these intrusive thoughts is made as you unload the contents of your luggage into your old cabinet. It works for a while because all the old clothes you still kept tickled some memories from way back in high school, when becoming a vet was nothing but a pipe dream you came up with after Namja became sick on the day of his first birthday. 

In fact, as you look around further, you’re reminded of just how much time has passed since you moved out. The paint on the walls is starting to chip, and the floorboards creakier than you remember. Even the bed that was too spacious for your liking seems to shrink when you imagine Mingyu sprawled all over it with a blanket thrown over his large form. 

But when you recall how you two somehow made the sleeping arrangement work last Christmas, you figure that there isn’t much to worry about.

Aside from the fact that you’re not together anymore. Fuck.

“Hey. Are you awake?”

You jolt at the sound of a soft voice coming from the door. Mingyu’s handsome face peeks from the crack before he opens it all the way, lips pressed together in a hesitant smile.

“Your mom asked if I could fetch your father at the pier in a few,” he says. “Do you want to come with me or do you want to get some sleep first?”

“Do I want to—” you cut yourself off, throwing your hands up in disbelief. “Mingyu, what I want is for you to explain what you’re doing here.”

He cranes his head. “You said you needed help.”

“Yeah, but I was going to be honest about the breakup anyway!” you whisper, not wanting to attract unwanted attention from outside. God knows this house has paper-thin walls. “But then you’re suddenly here, cozying up to my family like we haven’t been ignoring each other for months already.”

“Hey, I’d never ignore you.” Mingyu pouts. “I even picked up when you called me at ass o’clock in the morning, remember? If someone’s ignoring anyone here, it’s you, sweetheart.”

You hate how you bristle at that little pet name. Mingyu doesn’t seem to notice how you react to it, so you steel yourself instead—refusing to give into his unintentional charms. “That’s not the point and you know it, Mingyu. You can’t blame me for reacting this way when you told me that you wouldn’t be able to help me out.”

“But I’m here, right? I thought you’d be a little happier to see me, but I might have been overestimating myself.”

You are. You are happy to see him. 

But having to live with the knowledge that Mingyu is right here, close enough for you to touch, yet can’t because your relationship has long expired? 

You weren’t ready for that. You don’t think you’ll ever be.

“Look,” he starts with a tone that’s meant to placate you, “you were right about not wanting to ruin the holidays with the breakup. I’m just here to help you out since you’re obviously not ready to break the news to your family. It’s not a big deal.”

You scowl at him. “Mingyu, it is a big deal. You are literally an idol with a packed fucking schedule. You can’t just play house with me here when you’re expected to be somewhere else.”

Mingyu shakes his head. “Listen to me first, okay? We were all given the weekend off because of Chuseok on short notice. You don’t have to worry about you unknowingly stealing me away from work because there is no work. Besides, I told you I’d still be here when you need me, right?”

How can he say all that with a straight face? Like he still thinks of you as anything but an old flame that’s long been snuffed out?

The problem with Mingyu is that he’s too earnest for his own good. Always wearing a spectrum of emotions on his sleeve. Always so honest about what he feels about certain things. It’s so fucking difficult to stand your ground against someone who’s nothing but forthcoming about every aspect of his life. 

But it’s not like you could ever resist him to begin with, right?

“Fine,” you grumble. “Give me a few minutes to prep. I don’t want to go out in the docks wearing this many layers anyways.”

You hate how your chest warms when Mingyu’s eyes light up at that. Fight back, maybe?!

He looks like he’s about to say something when an abrupt knock disturbs the quiet atmosphere of your room. From how annoyingly long it lasts, you single out your younger brother as the perpetrator.

“You better not be making your firstborn in there,” Haneul drawls from the other side. 

Mingyu flashes you a mischievous smile before cupping the sides of his hands over his mouth. “We might be making our second born for all you know.”

You won’t survive this weekend. You really won’t.

…

“Remember when we used to eat ice cream by the Han River?” 

You flash Mingyu a perplexed look as you climb out of the car he used to drive all the way to your hometown. It’s a mystery how his manager allows him to go places with their company car with no supervision, but it’s not like Mingyu has done anything in the past to warrant that kind of surveillance anyway.

Besides, if he’s spending the entirety of Chuseok with a bunch of bodyguards lingering around your house, you might actually force him to go back to Seoul altogether.

“Why’d you bring it up?” you ask. “I thought you didn’t like those kinds of dates ‘cause you had to amp up the disguises and everything.”

Mingyu pockets the keys to the car before leaning against the metal railings installed along the pier. Your father is yet to show up at your rendezvous point, so you figure it wouldn’t do anyone harm to entertain Mingyu’s attempt at small talk. 

“Hmm. While I did prefer just cuddling in the dorms and at your place, it always felt a little different whenever we went out together,” he muses, the wind tossing his hair around slightly before turning to look at you. “How about you? Do you have any favorite date of ours in particular?”

You sigh, unsure why he’s even asking you all of this. Yet you indulge him anyway with, “I don’t think it classifies as a ‘date’, but I kinda liked it whenever you hung out with me in the clinic while I tended to some patients. Even if your presence there is an occupational hazard in itself.”

He snickers to himself, and you know damn well he still remembers the flock of fangirls that ran into him in the waiting room when Mingyu paid you a visit out of boredom. Thankfully, they were the respectful kind, and promised not to divulge information about Mingyu’s whereabouts whenever they catch him at your clinic.

“The dogs are always happy to see me,” he chuckles. “The cats, not so much. Oh, but remember when someone brought in their pet snake? I think that one had a crush on me.”

You do, in fact, remember the day Mingyu got bitten by a boa constrictor named Yujin. Her owner is one of your regulars, since other vets in the city don’t have reptiles under their area of expertise. Yujin hasn’t bitten anyone since she first came for a checkup, so you figure that Mingyu must have done something pretty stupid to provoke the aggression. 

“You better be glad constrictor bites aren’t venomous,” you point out with an airy laugh. “Not even a true love’s kiss can cure a venomous snake bite.” 

“It can cure a handful of other things though.”

You turn to glance at Mingyu with a miffed look at his attempt at smooth-talk. He’s always been this way, so it doesn’t particularly faze you. But it still feels surreal to be talking with him right next to the open sea in your hometown as you both wait for your father to arrive.

“I never really got to ask,” you murmur, eyes still trained on a flock of seagulls huddling together near the docks. “How are you? You’re not burning yourself out again, are you?”

You don’t see it, but Mingyu smiles to himself. “It’s in our job description to push ourselves past the limit, you know. But…honestly? It’s been pretty lonely.”

You make a face at that. “Lonely? You’re literally with twelve other guys, like, eighty percent of the time. How does it ever get lonely?”

Mingyu hums before leaning further over the railing. He looks up at the clear blue sky, breathing deeply with his eyes closed, and for a moment, you’re a bit taken aback by how breathtaking he looks under the spill of morning sunlight. 

“You can still get lonely in the middle of all the noise,” he murmurs. “That’s why I was kind of glad I got to go back here for a while. I know I said I meant to help you out, but there might’ve been some selfish reasoning behind the choice, too.”

Your gaze softens at his words. Mingyu is one of the most intensely passionate members of their group, so it’s not hard to believe that he’s also one of those that ends up feeling this way. You remember having a similar conversation with him during a quiet night in your apartment, limbs tangled together under the sheets as he wonders if your lives would be different if he wasn’t an idol.

But of course, it’s your job to remind him that, even if it could become exhausting at times, he once dreamed of being where he is now. 

“They probably miss you already,” you say. “Don’t you guys usually film content for Chuseok?”

“Yeah, but all of that’s prerecorded. They’re all with their families right now, too.” 

“Really? What are you doing here then?” you tease.

Mingyu tilts his head to the side, lips curved into a lopsided smile that reminds you how it felt to catch feelings for him the first time.

“Who ever said you aren’t family?”

Unfair. He’s being so fucking unfair right now.

But you can’t even think about pushing him into the sea because your father has already made his entrance, waving at the two of you despite his hands being full of fishing paraphernalia. 

He sulks about how it took you so long to go back home, and you had to explain that things have been extra hectic at your clinic, especially when you inevitably earned the reputation of being ‘SEVENTEEN Mingyu and Seungkwan’s trusted veterinarian’ despite neither of them having dropped by since the breakup.

You don’t tell them that last part though. The last thing you need is for Mingyu to have something to gloat about.

“It’s a miracle how those nasty paparazzi folks from Dispatch haven’t caught on yet,” your dad says before climbing into the backseat of Mingyu’s company car. “Unless you’re already in cahoots with them? Remember, Kim Mingyu, leave my daughter out of any celebrity gossip! She’s already built a good name for herself.” 

A throaty laugh rumbles in Mingyu’s chest as he pulls out into the street. “You don’t have to worry about that, sir. Protecting her has always been my top priority.”

Your father nods, seemingly pleased with his response. “Damn straight.” 

You don’t express any outward reaction to what Mingyu just told your dad, but you don’t resist when he reaches for your hand over the center console. 

The moment you he squeezes your fingers, you squeeze back. 

…

The rest of the day is packed with preparing lunch and dinner options for your other relatives in town. Having Mingyu on board is an undeniable asset, since the man knows his way around the kitchen even better than you do. It’s a little endearing to think that, even if it’s the first time he’s meeting your aunts and uncles and cousins, his personality makes him fit right in. 

Turns out, one of your cousins’ daughters is a huge fan, and she couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw Kim Mingyu smoking fish in the backyard of your parents’ house. She made him promise to sign one of her photocards before they leave—a request that your ex is all too happy to oblige. 

By dinnertime, most of the guests have already left, and it’s just you, Mingyu, and Haneul sharing the rice wine Mingyu brought for the occasion, with your parents having already retired for the night. You didn’t even tell him that your Mom wanted another taste of it, yet he delivered anyway. 

“How are you guys doing it?” Haneul whines, a bit red in the face since he’s already had a few beers before your cousins all left. “When my ex-girlfriend moved to another city, it only took two weeks for us to break up. Long distance is the bane of everyone’s existence.”

“Everyone but ours,” Mingyu says before clinking his glass with yours. “You just have to communicate with each other constantly. If you’re honest about everything both of you are feeling, then it’ll be easier to work things out together.”

It’s so easy for him to say these kinds of things. As if your relationship didn’t go to ruin because of the long distance that always kept the two of you apart. You feel a bit bad for having Mingyu lie to your brother right in his face, but you tell yourself that you’re already here anyway. 

You’ll just have to fake it until you make it.

“But what if the other party doesn’t want to talk about it?” Haneul sighs, tracing the rim of his own glass with his finger. “I wanted to make it work. I really did. But she… She didn’t even want to try anymore. Lost faith in us so quickly, I could hardly believe she even loved me.”

You know Haneul is just drunkenly rambling about his grievances with his ex. He called you about it a few years ago, long before you even met Mingyu, and you consoled him by saying that his ex-girlfriend never deserved his love in the first place.

But even if you know the circumstances that led to your split with Mingyu are completely different, you can’t help but find similarities between the stories. 

You broke up with Mingyu on the first day of spring. When the snow was just beginning to thaw, and the wind started to bring in a warmer climate. They’d just gone back from tour, and you know you’re not the only one feeling the tightly-wound strings of your relationship beginning to fray at the seams. 

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, but I don’t think we’re going to work, Gyu,” you murmured, not having the guts to meet his eyes. “I think it’s best if we just focused on our careers.”

You thought he’d throw a fit. Or at least ask you a bunch of questions. Did he do something wrong? Is he not enough? Yet Mingyu simply flashed you a sad smile before nodding right back at you.

“Okay,” he said with a kind of resignation that breaks your heart to hear. “Thank you for being with me all this time.”

In the present, Mingyu shifts beside you on the table—abruptly startling you out of that impromptu trip down memory lane. 

“Then, you’ll just have to take it in stride, Haneul-ah,” he murmurs before throwing back the rest of his drink. Mingyu manages a tight-lipped smile that pains you to look at. “If you really love her, you’ll respect whatever choice she’s come to make in the end. Even if that choice doesn’t involve you anymore. Even if it hurts to see her walk away after everything you’ve built together.”

When Mingyu turns to look at you, you feel like there’s cotton sticking to the roof of your mouth.

“It’s a good thing I never have to experience that with your sister, though. She loves me too much to let me go.”

Haneul huffs from across the table before rising to his feet. “You two are so in love it’s actually disgusting. You know what, let’s just go to sleep.”

Half an hour later, you find yourself standing in the middle of your bedroom as Mingyu gets ready to sleep. He seems to be talking to someone on the phone inside your bathroom, but you purposely decide not to listen in. It was probably his manager or one of the other boys checking in on him.

You don’t wait for him to finish when you climb under the sheets, leaving enough space for him to occupy on the mattress, should he decide to share it with you tonight. There’s also an extra blanket folded on his side of the bed, since Mingyu’s a notorious blanket hogger, and you’d rather not wrestle that six-foot hunk of muscle for warmth. 

Mingyu takes so long on that phone call of his that by the time he finishes, you’re already fast asleep, curled up while facing the wall so you wouldn’t have to face him. He chuckles, lingering just a few seconds longer by the doorframe of the bathroom. How long has it been since he’s last seen your face under the peaceful guise of slumber? 

It’s been too long, and he isn’t about to pass up on the opportunity to commit the sight into memory.

…

Sometime in the middle of the night, you’re rudely roused by the sudden drop in temperature.

It’s only the beginning of autumn, but you noticed that it’s a lot colder than usual. Even if you already have a cozy blanket draped right on top of you. You sigh, shifting on the bed to get more comfortable before realizing that you’re not exactly alone. 

Much like yourself, Mingyu is blinking out the drowsiness in his eyes as he turns to look at you with a question in his sleepy gaze. You shake your head in a wordless attempt to tell him not to worry. 

“You’ve been tossing and turning for thirty minutes now,” he says, and hearing his throaty voice in person doesn’t even compare to that phone call you shared a week ago. “What’s wrong?”

You sigh. “It’s cold, and it isn’t even winter yet.”

He looks at you for a while, as if thinking of what to say before he reaches out for you and tugs you into his arms. Even if you’re practically half-asleep, the sudden action kickstarts your brain into motion, and you struggle against his grip all while whispering, “What the hell are you doing?!”

“You told me back then I’m as good as a furnace on cold days,” he mumbles as he tucks you into his chest—making you hyper aware of every ridge of his toned chest through his shirt. “If it bothers you so much, just think of it as a favor from one friend to another. How’s that sound?”

Friend. You know that’s all that Mingyu is to you these days, and all you are to him, but even in this drowsy haze you’re in, the word still feels like an insult. A word meant to scorn the time you’ve spent as lovers. 

Just thinking about Mingyu as a friend leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, so instead of answering him, you cave and burrow yourself into his warmth—something that he seems pleased with, if the satisfied sound that rumbles in his chest is anything to go by. 

He holds you in his arms the same way he did last Christmas, but there’s an unfamiliar sense of possessiveness sinking uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach. You know you shouldn’t think of what he’s doing as anything but a favor between friends. You’re perfectly aware that, as the person who officially ended things between the both of you, you have no right to yearn for something you already gave up on.

But when Mingyu tilts your head up so you can meet his sleepy eyes, you don’t even put up a fight when he presses his lips to yours.

It doesn’t seem like he planned on doing anything beyond that. In fact, you don’t think he meant to do it at all. Just a heat-of-the-moment decision that the two of you could just forget about come morning. 

However, the moment he starts to pull away, you force a hand across the back of his head, crushing your lips back together as you hook one of your thighs across his hips. Mingyu groans into the kiss, large hands migrating to your waist as he reciprocates your newfound hunger like you knew he would. His touch leaves trails of fire tingling across your skin, and every time his canines graze your bottom lip, you quietly moan into his mouth.

This is stupid. You’re both being incredibly stupid. The walls are anything but soundproof, and your parents are sleeping just across the hall.

Yet you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when Mingyu is making your body remember what it feels like to have him all over you like this.

You missed him. His heat. His touch. His kiss. Everything. You missed him so much that it hurts. You missed him so much that when Mingyu’s fingers start to glide along the exposed flesh of your thighs, you detach your lips from his before pushing him away.

You missed Kim Mingyu with the intensity of a dying star collapsing in on itself, of black holes tearing through reality, but this isn’t how you should go about it.

“Let’s…” you whisper, not quite trusting your voice to carry out your message. “Let’s just sleep.”

Mingyu doesn’t argue. He rarely does. But neither do you when he tugs you back in the caging embrace of his warmth. 

For the first time in weeks, you find yourself drifting off into undisturbed slumber.

…

The next morning, you’re set to go back to Seoul, and by some stroke of luck, so is Mingyu. Still, the two of you decide to stick around until lunch time—neither of you breathing a word about what just happened last night.

But while Mingyu starts to load both of your things into the trunk of his car, your mother asks you for a favor at the last minute.

“Can you bring Namja along with you back to the city?” she asks. “He’s been really listless before you and Mingyu arrived. Your father and I were starting to get worried, and figured you might have to do a check up first.”

You raise an eyebrow at her claim, not really noticing anything amiss about your retriever’s health, aside from the usual signs of age. He’s ten years old, turning eleven this year, so it isn’t such a mystery to see that Namja isn’t as hyperactive as he was as a puppy. But then again, your mother has spot-on intuition about all the strangest things, so you indulge her request in the end. 

Besides, having a pet of your own to keep you company doesn’t sound so bad.

Fortunately, Mingyu is more than hospitable when you ask if you could bring Namja along for the ride—promising that he’s car-trained, and won’t make a mess as long as you pull over from time to time. In fact, your ex seems more elated with the idea of your goldie joining the road trip than you are.

“I can come visit Namja in Seoul whenever I want now, right?” he asks with a soft laugh, and you wanted to reply with, Yeah, if you aren’t always so far away, that is, but choose not to. 

The two of you take shifts in driving as usual. Whoever isn’t behind the wheel is in charge of entertaining Namja in the backseat so he wouldn’t end up whining for attention the whole drive back. It’s a setup that you’re pretty okay with, since it minimizes any sort of window for you and Mingyu to have a conversation. God knows you’re not exactly ready to talk about…whatever happened last night. 

So instead, you ask him about a bunch of trivial things so he doesn’t get any ideas.

“You sure your manager is okay with you returning the car while it reeks of Namja?” you laugh before switching lanes on the freeway. “He might not take the news that he sheds very lightly.” 

Mingyu chuckles before scratching behind Namja’s ears. “I promised I’d have it cleaned before I returned it to the office building. Don’t worry about it.”

“Hm. Whatever you say.”

By your third stop-over, you decide to give Namja some food and water while Mingyu gets takeout for the both of you at a nearby fast food chain. You stretch out your limbs while your retriever happily laps from his water bowl, wondering how much longer it’s going to take before you reach Seoul. 

Before you have to part ways with Mingyu again.

You’re startled out of your train of thought when you see Mingyu practically sprinting back to the car, his sunglasses nearly falling off the bridge of his nose. Namja glances up at him quizzically, and you have to stifle a laugh.

“Yeah, a bunch of fans spotted me in line, so we might have to get food back in the city instead,” he explains hurriedly as he helps tidy up Namja’s food and water bowls. “Let’s go. I’ll drive.”

After his meal, Namja is sated and sleepy—content with resting his head on your thigh as you watch the streetlights blur past the windows. Mingyu is a much faster driver than you are, so he’s able to cut the travel time shorter than it would have been had it been you behind the wheel. But the lack of anything to do has you quietly staring at Mingyu from the backseat while his eyes are glued to the road.

You can’t help but let your gaze linger on his strong arms, and the fact that you were tucked safely between them the night prior. But that’s your first mistake because now, you’re thinking about those desperate kisses you shared in the privacy of your room. Touching each other like you both feared the other would disappear if you didn’t pull them close enough.

You shake your head. No. This isn’t how friends should think about each other. 

Whatever happened back in Haenam, you’re just going to have to leave it there.

It’s already past eight in the evening when Mingyu eases the car into your neighborhood, and you try not to think much of the fact that he still knows where you live. 

“Guess that concludes our weekend getaway,” Mingyu says the moment he finishes helping you carry your stuff back inside your apartment. “Though it seems that someone’s getting pretty cozy really quickly.”

Namja is already familiarizing himself with his new home, wandering around the living room all while sniffing everything in his path. You stifle a soft laugh.

“Yeah. I guess it is,” you murmur before managing a kind smile. “Thanks for having my back, Mingyu. It…means a lot. Really, it does.”

He laughs softly, eyes trailing around the living room with a curiosity that isn’t so different from Namja’s. “You have your first boyfriend with you now. I can rest easy knowing you’re in good company.”

Your face flushes at the thought that Mingyu still remembers the reasoning behind Namja’s namesake. Namjachingu. When he was still a puppy, you said Namja was your first boyfriend, and that you didn’t need anyone else. 

He lived up to his title for years, too—always acting hostile around past boyfriends that you did end up bringing to your parents’ house despite coming from a friendly breed. The only boyfriend that your first boyfriend seemed to approve of is the man standing right in front of you, just when you thought you would never see him again within the four corners of your house.

“You know,” Mingyu begins, hesitation crossing his face for a split second before he meets your eyes. “My family’s in Seoul for Chuseok, too. I told Minseo to bring Bobpul and Baptori, and you might want to schedule a little playdate between my kids and yours.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “Where’s Aji?”

“Too old to travel around,” he chuckles. “But I’m sure the other two can keep Namja company just fine. Join us tomorrow for dinner. What do you say?” 

You hesitate. This should’ve been where you drew the line. Mingyu has already helped you out of your initial predicament. You really shouldn’t create any more problems for yourself by joining his family for a late Chuseok dinner. In fact…

“What, you haven’t told your family that we split either?” you ask, half-jokingly, half-seriously.

“No, they know.” Mingyu shakes his head. “But they’ve always liked you too, so I see no harm in getting everyone to hang out in one place.”

You shoot him a pointed look. “You know this is just going to make things more complicated, right?”

When he flashes you that toothy grin, you already know that this is a losing battle. 

“It does, but it’s still going to be fun,” he says. “So, are you coming?” 

Sometimes, you wish you never met Mingyu at all. Maybe your life wouldn’t be so fucking difficult.

“Fine.”

…

The next day, you bring Namja to the clinic, and Chae is more than happy to see the brand new addition to the workforce. But while she’s giving your goldie more pets than he probably deserves, you ask if you have any clients coming this morning that called in advance.

“Oh, there’s this one guy who’s bringing in a maltese today,” she says, laughing a little when Namja whines at the fact that her attention is divided. “I think his name was… Seungkwan? Something like that. He has some records from last year, but he hasn’t been back since.”

Seungkwan’s coming today? Huh. Talk about coincidence.

You tell Chae about how Seungkwan and Mingyu belong to the same group, and your receptionist is adept enough to catch on to what you’re trying to say. She’s all too quick to suggest plans on how to mitigate the fans from flocking the entrance to the clinic, like that one time when Mingyu was too lax in disguising himself from anyone who could recognize him. 

But when Seungkwan arrives at your door, you remember that he’s one of the members that doesn’t particularly like being crowded by people, even if they are his fans.

He’s dressed discreetly—dark shades, a beanie, and a black face mask—while carrying an adorable pet carrier that’s probably worth half your monthly salary. Seungkwan is so straight-to-the-point with carrying out his business with you, that it’s hard to believe you and him used to joke around like old friends a year ago. 

But for some reason, when Chae excuses herself to answer a phone call, the façade he puts up falls apart in seconds.

“Noona, you have no idea how much I missed you!” he wails before throwing his arms around you. “Other vets just don’t cut it for Bookkeu! They’re always either too mean or too lax with her. You handled her just right today. Can’t believe Mingyu-hyung always calls you her worst enemy.”

You chuckle before patting his back, and Seungkwan pulls away with a pout on his face. “Hey, you guys are the ones who ghosted me after Mingyu and I broke up. You’re always welcome to come back to have your pets checked—non-showbiz girlfriend or not.” 

“That hyung of mine is stupid,” Seungkwan scoffs as he scoops Bookkeu into his arms. “Well, you’re kind of the same way, but I can’t exactly call you stupid or you might take it out on Bookkeu—”

“I would do no such thing, Seungkwan-ah,” you complain. 

“Okay, it’s just my personal opinion that maybe you two didn’t have to split up at all,” he huffs. “Mingyu-hyung has become more and more listless since you broke up with him. He might look like his usual self on camera, but when we’re not recording anything? He’s always so lost in thought! It gets on Coups-hyung’s nerves sometimes.”

Listless, huh… 

Your mother said the exact same thing about Namja. Speaking of, your gaze drifts over to your goldie who’s staring outside the door to your clinic, like he’s waiting for Chae to come back and shower him with attention again. 

Is Seungkwan insinuating that he and Mingyu aren’t so different?

“Maybe he’s just going through a blue period,” you suggest before writing up a prescription for the vitamins that Bookkeu will have to take for the next two weeks. “It’s been so long since we broke up. I doubt he’s acting that way because of me.”

Seungkwan breathes in deeply, like he’s just barely able to contain the urge to slap some sense into you. “Noona, listen to me. Kim Mingyu is catastrophically in love with you. When you called that night when we were sharing a hotel room in New York, it was the first time I saw him look so genuinely happy for reasons that aren’t related to our music. But that hyung of mine is too selfless for his own good.”

You startle a bit when he suddenly lifts Bookkeu closer to you and points her adorable face in your line of sight. 

“He wants you back, but he’ll never admit it, especially when you made your choice clear all those months ago,” Seungkwan says before pushing his maltese even closer to you. “But now, something tells me that you’re still hung up on him, just as much as he’s hung up on you—if all the things he told me about your trip to Haenam are true, that is.”

Huh. That time he took so long in the bathroom… He must’ve been talking to Seungkwan.

“Okay, but why does it feel like you’re using Bookkeu to threaten me into doing something?” You laugh softly. “Seungkwan, our time is up. And it’s not something we can just take back whenever we feel like it.”

“Wh—! Don’t you think things are only that way because both of you are making it more complicated than it should be?” He sighs, exasperated. “Also, yes I am using Bookkeu to threaten you. Promise that you’ll at least talk to Mingyu-hyung about this? We can’t stand seeing him so out of it anymore. Come on, you can’t resist those cute puppy eyes, right?”

You sigh, half-considering pointing out that Bookkeu is, by no means, a puppy anymore, but then again, you still call Namja that despite being more than a decade old.

“Alright, alright,” you relent. “I’m meeting his family tonight for dinner anyways. Might as well clear the air.”

Seungkwan gasps, a comical expression rooting itself on his face. “See! You’re having dinner with his family, too?! If you’re not back together by the time we fly back to the U.S., I'm never talking to either of you ever again.”

Now, it’s your turn to pout. “Who are you going to go to for Bookkeu’s check-ups then?”

He opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again before letting out a petulant huff. You can’t help the snicker that bubbles in your chest as Seungkwan tilts his chin up with indignance. 

“Point taken,” he says before narrowing his eyes and pointing his index finger at you. “But I’m expecting Kim Mingyu to come back to the dorms later, happy and not heartbroken. Okay?” 

You raise your hands before handing him your written prescription. “No promises.”

When Chae returns inside the clinic, you physically have to hold Namja down just so she can give Seungkwan a receipt for today’s visit. Your mother was right, he definitely was growing lonely back in Haenam. You haven’t seen him this excited in years. 

Seungkwan bids you another, more formal goodbye, now that you're not alone anymore. He doesn’t need to reiterate what he asked of you out loud—the look in his eyes is already telling enough. 

Given that today is a bit of a slow day, you decide to run a few diagnostic tests on Namja just to confirm whether or not he’s silently carrying some sort of disease. But all his results came out normal, except for a clinically insignificant but still noticeable increase in his body sodium levels. Might have to cut down the treats for a few days. 

Otherwise, he’s happy and healthy ten—going eleven—years into his lifespan. The reason for his lethargy back home must have something to do with innate loneliness after all.

Then you remember what Seungkwan told you about Mingyu. How he hasn’t really been himself since the breakup. You never really felt that during your time together in your hometown. He’s still the effortless charmer that you once fell in love with. The big softie that can get along with anyone and everyone, given the right circumstances.

Mingyu has always been a people pleaser. The last thing he wants to do is inconvenience others. So it’s kind of hard to believe that he’s been so out of it that even Seungcheol is starting to get pissed with his behavior. 

The sound of Namja barking jolts you out of your thoughts before your goldie pads over to where you’re seated behind your desk, whining as he nuzzles your hands as if he knows you’re thinking a bit too hard about something distressful. You let out a quiet laugh, scratching behind his ears just like you know he likes.

“I wonder what I’m supposed to do,” you chuckle. “Maybe I should’ve been born as a dog instead. Thinking about all of this is giving me a headache.”

Namja growls before barking again. Like he doesn’t approve of the idea of not having you as his fur parent. You let out another laugh that’s a lot less quiet before you decide to pull out your phone and shoot Mingyu a text.

Are you picking me up later or not?

…

Dinner with Mingyu’s family is splendid

The outdoor restaurant his mother booked in advance probably serves the best songpyeon you’ve ever tasted in your life. Add that to the fact that they accommodate pets in their alfresco area, this could easily be one of the next places you’ll take your own parents for a meal when you bring them to Seoul for a quick getaway. 

Namja is a bit shy around other animals—a result of being around no one but your family for so long. But when Minseo introduces him to both Bobpul and Baptori at the same time, the two little rascals easily coaxed your senior citizen goldie out of his shell. Next thing you know, they’re running around the outdoor dining area like a bunch of energetic pups.

“Unnie, are you back together with this guy?” Minseo asks in the middle of dessert, pointing her spoon accusingly at Mingyu. “You can do so much better than him, though.”

Their father laughs at their youngest’s comment, and their mother rubs Mingyu’s back as if she agrees, yet still wishes to console her son regardless. Mingyu is simply scowling at his family for how quick they are to throw him under the bus.

“Shut up, you sound just like Seungkwan,” he whines. 

“Well, we’re both right.”

You let out a laugh of your own before scooping some ice cream into your mouth. Then, tentatively, you say, “Don’t say that. Gyu wasn’t that terrible of a boyfriend, you know?” 

“He’s always so busy though. Doesn’t even have time to come visit Bobpul and our other dogs anymore,” Minseo sulks. “He even missed my graduation! Can you believe it?”

Mingyu pouts. “I said I was sorry, didn’t I?” 

She huffs. “Not sorry enough!”

“Well, for starters, even if he is ridiculously busy, he still makes sure to call me before he goes to bed after a particularly tough schedule,” you say. “He also answers my calls even if our time zones are different, and it’s an ungodly hour where he currently is. Then when he finally comes back to Korea, he’ll give a bunch of gifts that reminded him of me on his trip overseas.”

You don’t know what compelled you to do so, but the words just gush out naturally. It was a little difficult the first time Mingyu had to hop on a plane to some other country to film some content with the boys, but you eventually got used to it, and managed to make a couple work-arounds.

Now that you think about it, if you were so used to it, why’d you decide it was best for you to part ways when he got back from tour? It’s been so long that you don’t even know the logic behind the reasoning anymore. You just remember feeling like it was the best decision at the time. And you were right—your careers have definitely thrived even after the breakup.

As you continue telling Minseo and their parents about how much of a catch the eldest son of the Kim family really is, you fail to notice the way Mingyu’s eyes never leave you the entire time. Soft, with just a hint of yearning that you’ll only be able to notice if you knew what you were looking for. 

“Ugh, fine,” Minseo huffs, and you don’t think she and Seungkwan are all that different from each other. “This is the first time I’ve seen a couple that’s broken up months ago talk about each other so fondly, still. You sure you two aren’t secretly dating again?”

“Minseo,” their mother scolds before flashing you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry about her. Minseo’s just been really snappy lately. Must be because she missed Mingyu here very much.”

She rolls her eyes. “As if I’ll miss that credit-grabbing punk. He didn’t even acknowledge me in his latest Instagram post!”

“Speaking of dating again,” their father interjects before taking a sip of his wine. “Minseo’s right about one thing at least. You and Mingyu still have chemistry after so long. What’s stopping you from getting back together again?”

At your side, Mingyu flashes his father a cautionary look. “Dad, that’s a really inappropriate question, don’t you think?”

“Oh, yes, of course. My apologies. This old man is really just…curious, so to speak.” 

He bows his head slightly, and you make a little gesture that insists you took no offense. But the inquiry definitely made you think for a moment.

It’s like everyone you know completely supports the idea of you and Mingyu just burying the hatchet and rekindling your relationship. But didn’t they consider the logistics of it? You’re a full-time vet and Mingyu’s a full-time idol that travels out of Korea at least once a month. Though you’re a bit unsure of it now, that still played a part in why you called it quits in the first place.

Even when Mingyu took it upon himself to drive you and Namja back to your apartment, his father’s question still lingers in the back of your mind. 

What’s stopping you from getting back together again? 

The answer is pretty simple, but it’s not something you’re ready to face just yet.

It’s you. You’re the only one keeping yourselves from reigniting what you once thought was already lost. Your guilt. Your regrets. Your fears. You didn’t need a verbal confirmation to know that Mingyu would drop everything in a heartbeat if it meant you’ll take him back again. But as much as your friends joke about how you deserve better than Mingyu, you’re convinced it’s the other way around.

Mingyu deserves someone who can reciprocate the love he’s so willing to give tenfold. Someone who doesn’t flake out when he needs them most. 

Someone who isn’t you.

When he pulls over a red light, he lets out a sigh as he checks the text messages that popped up on his phone. After a few scrolls he says, “Oh. Jeonghan-hyung texted about some party in Gangnam. Do you want to—”

“Gyu,” you whisper, eyes riveted on the busy street. “What are we doing?”

He blinks. “Celebrating Chuseok together?”

“But we’re friends right?” You laugh somewhat bitterly. “Friends don’t normally celebrate the entirety of their Chuseok weekend bonding with each other’s families. Friends don’t make out with each other in the middle of the night. And…”

You let out a shuddering sigh before adding, “Friends don’t look at each other the way you look at me.”

You can clearly hear the sound of his breath hitching even if you don’t turn to look at him. It seems like he was about to say something in return, but the stoplight turns green, and he’s back to pulling his focus on the road instead of you.

In the backseat, you can hear Namja whining—ever the empath, that one. You immediately feel him pawing against your seat, as if silently asking what’s wrong. Turning around, you give him a few reassuring pats, not wanting to get claw marks all over Mingyu’s borrowed car.

The two of you are completely silent as he walks you back to the front door of your apartment. You know he didn’t have to, yet he did anyway. How Mingyu of him.

When you finally muster the courage to look up at him and bid him good night, Mingyu grabs your wrist—forcing you to meet his desperate gaze. 

“If I told you I wanted you back, would anything change? No, right?” he whispers, voice tinged with so much emotion, you can feel your own heart ache at the sound of it. “So I’m sorry if I’m being selfish for inviting you to every place I could think of. If I want to spend as much time with you as I can because I know I won’t ever get the chance to do so if I let this pass.”

When he presses your foreheads together, the look in his eyes is so smoldering, you can’t bear to look away. This is what a man that’s been yearning for you for months looks like, it seems. 

And you don’t think you can keep resisting him for long.

“Before I get thrown back into that haywire of a schedule again,” he whispers, and you feel every breath fan across your skin, “can’t you at least let me have this? Let me have you?” 

You don’t even know who it is that lunges in for the kiss. The next thing you know, Mingyu has you pressed up against your front door, devouring your lips where all your neighbors can see. But you don’t care. Not when he’s desperately holding your body flush against his as you reclaim what’s always been yours.

He whispers a bunch of things along the column of your neck as he loosens the strings holding your dress together from behind. Some sweet, some endearing, and others a touch too filthy for others to hear aloud. You stifle your little gasps when he wraps a strong arm around your waist, nudging your thighs apart with his knees so you can feel the hardness straining against his middle.

“It’s you,” he murmurs against your feverish skin, teeth grazing across your flesh ever-so lightly. “It’s always been you. And it will always be you.” 

You know Mingyu is a good actor. But it’s so earth-shatteringly different to hear the raw desperation in his voice. How earnest he is in telling you just how much he still loves you without saying the words outright. You can only dream of being as honest with your true feelings as he is. 

But tonight, you don’t think there’s anything wrong with letting yourself fall.

In the midst of your mounting desire for each other, though, a lone whine in the night snaps both you and Mingyu out of your newfound vigor. You nearly forgot about Namja, who’s impatiently waiting for either of you to open the front door so he can finally take a nap. You glance at Mingyu, and he glances right back, before the two of you burst out laughing like a couple of teenagers without a care in the world.

Once you’ve gotten your needy retriever settled outside, Mingyu practically tosses you on the bed the moment the door to your room clicks shut—all too eager to cage you between his arms as he continues where you left off. 

The suit he wore tonight looked a bit too good on his frame, but now you want nothing more than to claw it off him. He chuckles, sensing your desperation as he shrugs off his coat and unbuttons his dress shirt along the way.

“I don’t remember you being this desperate for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, leaning down to grasp your face as he strokes your heated skin with his thumb. “I can’t say I hate the development though.”

“Mingyu,” you whimper as you guide his thumb to your lips, suckling on it in a way that you know makes him lose his mind every time. “Please. I want you.” 

It’s so easy to be honest with yourself. You wonder why you’ve struggled with doing that for so long, but then you remember that your brain is fogged with desire for the man that’s currently staring you down like he’s doing everything in his power not to fuck you into the mattress right away. 

But at that moment, you throw all logic and caution in the wind in exchange for taking even more of Mingyu’s thick fingers into your mouth.

“So good for me,” he whispers when he sees you inch your knees apart to welcome him in between. The hand that’s not being fellated by your tongue finds its way to the apex of your thighs—cupping your clothed heat in a way that makes you moan around his fingers. “How badly do you want me, sweet thing?”

“So, so badly,” you manage to wrench out despite your mouth being full, rutting your hips to introduce some friction between your aching pussy and his hand. “Please, Gyu…”

When he’s satisfied, his free hand migrates to your thighs, spreading you further apart as he brings his lubricated fingers to your sopping core. There’s something so fucking hot in the way he just nudges your panties to the side—groaning when he finds you already soaked for him. 

“You need something to stretch out this pretty little pussy, don’t you?” he murmurs into your ear, nipping at the lobe just the way you like it. “You want my fingers or my cock, babygirl? Better choose wisely.”

You want to say that you’re too fucking horny for foreplay, but also remember that each time you had sex with Mingyu in the past, the stretch of his massive cock can be quite uncomfortable if he doesn’t prep you. With how long it’s been since you’ve laid in bed together, you don’t want to rush into it without thinking of the consequences after.

So, you mewl, “Fingers first. Then your cock.”

Mingyu laughs—a deep, sexy sound—before planting a kiss on your nose. “That’s my girl.”

He carefully eases one digit into your hole, eyes never leaving your face as he gauges your reactions. Part of you wishes to tell him that he doesn’t have to worry so much. That you still trust him with your own body even after all this time. You don’t say anything aloud, but Mingyu seems to get the gist from the look in your eyes either way, surging forward so he can press his lips back onto yours as he loosens you up.

“You’re always so quick to get wet for me, baby,” he sighs, stifling the noise that escapes you when he slides in a second finger to test the resistance of your walls. “You’ve no idea how much I missed this. Missed you .”

“Gyu, I—” Your breath hitches once he curls his fingers just so, making your legs rise involuntarily off the mattress, but Mingyu pins one of your thighs down with his free hand. 

“What was that?”

He’s teasing. He rarely ever does that. You shoot him a petulant look before taking his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging hard enough to coax a groan out of him. 

“I missed you, too,” you whisper. “You’re the only one who can make me feel this good.”

A dozen emotions flit through Mingyu’s face in the span of a millisecond, but the one that remains is something not so different from longing. You hear him sigh a couple of words that you don’t quite catch before he’s taking his fingers out of your sopping cunt and pulling away from you. Just when you’re about to voice out a complaint, he starts undoing his trousers, kicking them away to some uncharted part of your bedroom before working on the rest of his dress shirt.

Not-so-newsflash: your ex-boyfriend is still fucking hot. 

But he doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re reacting to the sultry way in which he peels his clothes off—dark eyes still trained on your pliant form on the bed. As Mingyu palms himself through his boxers, you can’t help but press your thighs together in anticipation of what’s to come. 

There was a time when he railed you so good, you legitimately couldn’t walk straight the next day. You wonder if he plans on reenacting the whole thing tonight.

“Let’s get you out of that dress, sweetheart,” he breathes before gently guiding you back into a seated position, tugging at the hem of your dress before tossing it to the side. 

You feel your cheeks warm when he stares at the underwear set you have on tonight. Plain cotton panties and plain cotton bra. In your defense, you really didn’t expect to get laid tonight. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Mingyu chuckles. It’s either he can read minds or he still knows you well enough to figure out what you’re thinking. “I’m taking everything off anyways.”

As he makes quick work of what’s left of your clothing, you distantly remember the last conversation you had with Seungkwan. How you told him you’d ‘clear the air’ with Mingyu right after having dinner with his family.

You’re pretty sure what you’re doing right now is only blurring the lines even more, but you don’t really fucking care right now.

You let out a hushed moan when Mingyu latches his mouth onto your nipple, massaging your other breast as he swirls the appendage across your sensitive skin. His free arm snakes itself behind the curve of your waist, pressing you against his firm body while rutting his hips against the bed. 

He’s just as desperate for you as you are for him, and it fills you with a heady sort of hunger that only Mingyu can alleviate.

“Can I?” he whispers.

You feel his teeth graze across the skin of your chest, making your toes curl with anticipation. It’s been a while, but you can’t easily forget how much of a biter Mingyu is in bed. He loves leaving his marks on your body, and even if you always complain about how hard it is to cover them up, you let him do as he pleases every single time.

“Yes,” you whimper, rubbing your bare pussy against the ridge of his abs. “Do whatever you want with me, Gyu.”

The sound you let out once he finally bites down is caught between a yelp and a moan, your fingers threading across his hair as he suckles on your skin. He’s such a talker in bed, too—whispering all sorts of endearments that are too soft for you to hear, but add fuel to your growing desire regardless.

“So fucking pretty,” he says once he detaches himself from your breasts and marvels at his own work. The fruit of his effort is yet to become visible, but he’s left enough angry red marks on your skin to guarantee the lovebites they’ll turn into come morning. “And it’s all for me.”

Lacing your fingers around his nape, you mold your lips together in another kiss, tongues dancing to the rhythm of your erratic heartbeat as you grind yourself against his toned stomach. 

“Mingyu,” you whimper against his mouth—hot and heavy. “I need you inside me. Need to get stretched on your cock.”

He groans again, fisting your hair so that he can kiss you even deeper. As he busies you with his mind-numbing kisses, Mingyu gets rid of his boxers in a flash—positioning himself between your thighs. You nearly cry out when you feel the fat head of his cock sliding against your soaking slit. When he grazes your sensitive clit, you could’ve sworn tears started together in the corners of your eyes.

“Fuck, babygirl, so fucking wet for me,” he sighs as he lays you back down on the bed and eases your knees further apart. 

You bite your lip at the sight of his cock, still as long and girthy as you remember. Mingyu pumps his length all while sliding the head across your cunt, but you let out another desperate mewl to just fuck you already. 

“Shhh,” he says, leaning down to plant a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Let me take my time with you, sweetheart. I want you to commit all of this to memory. Gonna have you feeling me inside you for days.”

And you don’t doubt that. Kim Mingyu has a knack for making it hard for people to forget about him, and if he plans to fuck the shape of his cock into your pussy, who are you to complain?

When you feel his cock catch across your entrance, you genuinely wonder if it’s going to hurt. Mingyu’s attempt at foreplay was cut halfway through because he got distracted by his sudden desire to leave a trail of love bites all over your breasts. But the thing about having sex with Mingyu is that your comfort is his top priority. 

He would never do anything that he knows can hurt you.

“I’ll go slow, alright?” he whispers, and all you can manage is a nod. “Words, baby. You have to talk to me so I’ll know if you really want it.”

“Gyu,” you whine, arching your hips in a feeble attempt to get him to fuck into you. “I’m alright. Anything you do is alright with me, just— Please. Please fuck me full.”

He sighs, staring down like he doesn’t know what to do with you before finally, finally, you feel his dick breach your entrance—pushing inch by delicious inch inside you with restrained hunger. You fist the sheets at the familiar stretch, but it’s not so uncomfortable that the sensation burns. You’ve taken Mingyu’s cock dozens of times before, and it seems that your body still knows how to accommodate his ridiculous size.

“Pretty pussy’s happy to see me again,” he chuckles, his grip on your thighs tightening ever-so slightly. “Still made to fit me so snuggly. Did you miss my cock, sweet thing? I can feel you pulsing around me.”

“Yes,” you drawl. “Missed your cock so fucking much, Gyu. Fuck—”

You feel so hot, so full. It’s like Mingyu’s the only thing you’ve ever known—surrounding you in every direction until all that floats in your lust-addled mind are the letters of his name. Once he buries himself to the hilt, Mingyu doesn’t move right away, still so attentive to your reactions that even if you want nothing more than for him to rail you into the mattress, he won’t press forward until he’s sure you’re ready.

“Is it too much?” he whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Do you need more time to get used to me?”

Something similar to a growl reverberates in your chest as you stare at Mingyu hard. “What I need is…for you to fuck me until I black out.”

Mingyu’s lips turn up into a grin as he shakes his head. “Baby, the last thing I want to be is some sex-deprived savage after we’ve been apart for so long. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Then, he leans forward on the bed again, bringing his lips right next to your ear.

“But I can still make you feel good.”

He prefaces the words with a powerful thrust that you don’t expect, splaying your thighs further until they’re flat against the mattress. The slide of his cock still feels so unbelievably good that even if the sudden stretch should’ve been uncomfortable, you’re too blindsided by the pleasure to notice. 

Your eyes trail across the beautiful man above you as he fucks you in his favorite position. Mingyu has always had a thing for missionary—something about wanting to see your face as he wrecks you. You think you’re starting to share the same sentiment because not only do you get to see his fat cock slide in and out of your sopping cunt, but you can admire all of him at once, as well.

The exertion in those toned arms with every forward thrust. The conspicuous outline of his pecs. That toned fucking stomach. That gorgeous fucking face, so lost in the velvet heat of your pussy—

Why did you ever think letting someone like this go was a good idea?

“You’re going to laugh at me for this but,” Mingyu breathes, chuckling to himself. “I think I’m kinda close.” 

You do laugh, but it’s quickly silenced when one of his fingers finds your clit, rubbing it in quick, precise circles like he hasn’t forgotten how to get you off after all this time.

“I am, too,” you tell him. “Cock so fucking good, you can make me come in minutes.”

Mingyu lets out another guttural noise as he presses your knees to your chest, throwing your legs over his shoulder with a look in his eyes that promises nothing but pleasure. Though his fingers have departed your puffy clit, the angle he has you bent in has his cock easily grazing your g-spot with every thrust—reducing you into a pathetic, mewling mess underneath him.

“Your pussy’s a fucking drug, babygirl,” he sighs. “Haven’t wanted anyone else after you.”

Even in your cock-drunk haze, those words bring forth some semblance of clarity within you. But it’s immediately snuffed out when Mingyu amps up the cadence of his thrusts, fucking into you with the intention of bringing you to completion at the same time he achieves it. Your eyes are screwed shut, fingers finding purchase across the ripping muscles of his back as you babble an incoherent mantra of yes, yes, so close, so fucking close, love how you fuck me, love how you make me feel full—

And then, it’s over—a white hot flash like stars bursting behind your eyelids. You curl into Mingyu’s embrace as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave, and he’s all too glad to help you ride it out, pistoning inside your spasming walls with a rhythm that’s starting to stagger. 

“So goddamn tight,” he growls. “Where do you want my cum, sweetheart?”

You’re still too blissed out to give him a proper response, but from the way your legs tighten themselves around his waist, Mingyu figures that that’s the green light he needs to make a mess out of you. Mingyu sighs, burying his face in the crook of your neck before biting down—his cock twitching in the heat of your cunt as his release gushes into you in thick globs.

He comes so much that when Mingyu does pull out of your abused pussy, his essence trickles out of your hole as you do your best to catch your breath. The world is just starting to return to its normal axis in your vision, and the first thing that your eyes focus on is the sight of Mingyu smiling at you so fondly, it makes your heart hurt.

The look scares you. Like he’s about to say something that you don’t know how to respond to. 

So instead of giving him any leeway for conversation, you tug him back down into a tongue-filled kiss, rubbing your ruined pussy across his still hard length as you mewl against his lips.

“More,” you whimper. “I need more, Gyu.”

And he’s all too happy to oblige.

Mingyu slides himself back inside you with an ease that wasn’t present earlier—your mixed arousal acting as a good enough lubricant to accommodate him. His erratic breathing as he fucks his cum deeper inside you only serves to turn you on even more, making another orgasm creep ever-so slightly beneath your skin. 

“Babygirl can’t get enough of this cock, can you?” he sighs. “Seems to me like your pussy never wants me to leave.”

“Yes!” you hiss, moving your hips in time with his as you desperately claw at his back. “Love your cock so much, please—”

“Come for me again, sweet thing, I know you can do it.”

It’s unbelievable how a few choice words can get your body to submit to his whims without much thought. Unlike your first orgasm, the second one that Mingyu coaxes out of you singes through every functional nerve-ending in your body—sending you into a flurry of overstimulation that has you twitching under his touch. 

Just when you thought Mingyu’s finally done with you, however, he suddenly flips you onto your stomach—pressing your chest against the mattress while your ass is high in the air. The sudden change in positions makes your head spin, but you’re too dazed to protest.

When you glance over your shoulder, he’s showing you that same smile you fell in love with a lifetime ago.

“You can give me a few more orgasms, right, baby?” 

When he slides his still hard cock along your swollen cunt, you groan into the sheets—having momentarily forgotten that Mingyu’s stamina can go until morning. If you don’t stop him now, he might actually fuck you until you black out, despite his earlier refutal.

But honestly? You’re not against the idea. Not one bit.

…

When you wake up the following day, it’s to cold sheets and the startling clarity of Mingyu’s absence.

You never minded living alone. You’ve been doing it since your first year of college here in Seoul. You’re used to waking up with nothing but the silence of your room to keep you company.

Even when you eventually got together with Mingyu, lonely mornings have always been a staple, especially on days where he has early schedules. It fills you with a sinking feeling to see that he isn’t with you, but you’ve learned to take it in stride. 

Besides…it’s not like you’re together anymore now.

This is what you wanted, right? For him to not treat…whatever this is as if it’s a relationship thing. The two of you were just heavily pent up, and caved into your mutual desires last night. There’s nothing more to it.

However, when you pad outside the bedroom after shrugging on a flimsy oversized shirt, the scent of pancakes and frying eggs fills your nose. When you see Namja sitting right next to a tall figure hunched over your stove, you can hardly believe your eyes.

He doesn’t notice you right away—too preoccupied with making the perfect breakfast to pick up on your presence. Namja, however, is more perceptive, glancing behind and perking up at the sight of you. He lets out an excited bark before skidding over to where you’re standing, and you crouch down to the floor so you can give him a tight hug.

“Oh, you’re awake!”

Mingyu faces you with a smile that’s nearly blinding in the morning light, a spatula in one hand and a kitchen mitt in the other. It’s the exact same scene that you’re greeted with during lazy weekends where he doesn’t have any work to do, and your chest twists yet again at the memory.

“Yeah, I am.” You smile, rubbing Namja’s belly when he sprawls himself on the floor. “What are you still doing here? Don’t you have to go back to New York tonight?”

“Yes, but it’s still morning,” he points out, and you roll your eyes.

A few minutes later, Mingyu starts to set the table while you wash your hands. He tells you about how Seungkwan doesn’t want to room with him anymore over breakfast because Mingyu takes so long to close the lights when he’s binging a new drama. You tell him to be more considerate of his roommates or they might just dropkick him off the hotel room balcony in his sleep.

When you help him put away the dishes, the sight is so…domestic, it gives you whiplash. Bumping shoulders, splashing water, stifling mutual laughter... Being with him like this, tucked in your own little pocket of happiness makes your heart soar in ways that not even mind-blowing sex can help you attain.

You pray that Mingyu doesn’t breathe a word about it, but of course things don’t always go your way.

Just when you’re about to turn around to give Namja her morning fix of dog food, you find yourself trapped between the sink and Mingyu’s arms—unable to escape the fondness in his eyes even if you tried.

“I think,” he whispers, “we can still make this work. You and me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Gyu…”

You think so, too. With someone as understanding and compassionate as Mingyu, you know nothing’s impossible if you just quit being so stubborn. You were so afraid of him attempting to bring your relationship back to life last night, but…

Seeing him bathing under the sunlight in your kitchen after months of getting used to being alone again… 

Maybe it isn’t so bad to let him back inside your heart.

“O-Of course, you don’t have to answer right away,” he says, turning red in the face. Cute. “You can tell me when I get back from New York. How’s that sound?”

You’re about to open your mouth to respond, but the moment is quickly shattered by the sound of Mingyu’s phone going off. He sighs, releasing you from the figurative cage of his arms as he leans against the sink right next to you—fishing his phone from his pocket before answering it in loudspeaker.

“Kim Mingyu, where the hell are you?!”

“Good morning to you, too, Seungkwan-ah,” he chuckles. “Why? What’s wrong? I told Jeonghan-hyung I won’t be coming back to the dorms until noon.”

“Well, Jeonghan-hyung must’ve forgotten to tell everyone else because the entire dorm panicked when we realized you didn’t make it home!” the younger man squawks. “We thought something bad happened! You weren’t answering your phone last night either!” 

You and Mingyu exchanged knowing looks, and you have to stifle your laughter if you didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Seungkwan’s rage, too.

“Sorry about that, I was a little…busy,” Mingyu supplies. 

“Well, whatever you’ve been ‘busy’ with, you better get your ass back here! Manager-hyung is looking for the car you borrowed, and if you don’t bring it back soon, he’s going to give all of us an earful.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll be back in thirty. Bye, Seungkwan.”

“Hey—!” 

Mingyu ends the call with little remorse before letting out a long sigh. When his eyes dart back to yours, they flicker momentarily to your lips before he leans forward. You meet him halfway this time, pressing your mouths together in a firm kiss.

“I’ll be back,” he murmurs. “I hope you’ll still be willing to accommodate me when I do.”

Though it pains you, he peels himself away from your touch, leaning down to kiss Namja’s head as he gathers his coat in his arms. It just occurred to you that he’s been eating breakfast with you donned with the outfit he wore last night while you’re dressed in nothing but a loose, oversized shirt. The knowledge makes you blush a little.

When you hear Mingyu’s car drive away, you sigh, running your hands through your messy hair. Namja pads over to you, tail wagging as he anticipates another round of petting. Of course you indulge him.

“Kim Mingyu is such an idiot, isn’t he?” you tell your goldie, and you like to think the small huff he lets out means he’s agreeing with you. “Why wait until he comes back when I already have an answer for him?”

This time, Namja actually barks out loud, making you shake your head with a laugh.

You don’t mind waiting for Mingyu, really. He obviously doesn’t mind waiting for you. At this point, you’re at peace with the fact that you might still love him. Maybe, you never stopped loving him at all. Once he lands back in Korea and comes home to you, you promise yourself that you’ll definitely show him.

Again and again.

this is part of the doting on you! series.

[lostfracturess]

HOW TO FAKE DATE A DOCTOR — SATORU GOJO

pairing — doctor!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary — for six months, you've watched dr. satoru gojo order the sweetest coffee on your menu every morning at exactly 7:15 AM. for six months, you've convinced yourself his intense stares must mean he's spotted something medically concerning about you—maybe a suspicious mole or concerning symptom. but when a desperate white lie about a fake boyfriend results in him volunteering to play the part at your family's christmas dinner, what begins as a simple pretend relationship might just turn into something real.

word count — 9 k

genre/tags — coffee shop AU, holiday romance, fake dating, friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn, fluff, idiots in love, reader is a med student and barista, gojo is a cardiologist, age difference (reader is 25/gojo early 30s)

warnings — 16+ ONLY. contains suggestive sexual content, non-graphic medical talk

author's note — hey lovelies, welcome to my first attempt at a holiday romance. this was meant to be a short drabble but somehow turned into this 9 k words of pure fluff and pining. it's my little christmas gift to you all hehe. whether you're celebrating with family, working holiday shifts, or just enjoying a quiet day, hope this makes you smile. thank you for reading, and merry christmas !! <3 (fanart in the header)

masterlist

You first noticed him six months ago.

It wasn't just because he was strikingly handsome, with hair the color of fresh snow and the bluest eyes you'd ever seen, though that certainly didn't hurt. It wasn't even because of his white coat and the stethoscope casually draped around his neck, marking him as one of the doctors from the nearby hospital.

No, what caught your attention was the way he looked at you.

Every morning, like clockwork, the bell above the door would chime at precisely 7:15 AM, and Dr. Satoru Gojo would walk into your café. He'd order the sweetest drink on your menu (always with extra whipped cream), and while you prepared it, his eyes would follow your every movement.

It wasn't creepy or uncomfortable. And it definitely wasn't flirting — at least, you didn't think it was. Perhaps he saw something, a suspicious mole you'd never noticed, and now he was trying to figure out how to tell the coffee girl she’s dying without ruining her morning rush. 

That had to be it.

You’d catch his gaze lingering when he thought you weren't looking. Sometimes, he'd tilt his head slightly, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. It made you wonder what he was thinking. Was he judging your latte art? Probably. You were still working on that.

But when you turned around to give him his iced vanilla latte with extra whipped cream and three shots of caramel (it never varied, not once in six months), he'd break his smile to you, his gaze softening for a second, and then his fingers would brush against yours as you handed him the paper cup.

He always thanked you with “Much appreciated”. It made your heart skip a beat, if you'd be honest. Not that you read all too much into it of course. And so for six months, this had been your routine. 

5:30 AM: Arrive at the café.

6:00 AM: Open up, prep for the day. 

7:13 AM: Start making his drink because you knew he'd walk in exactly two minutes later. 

7:15 AM: Heart fluttering slightly as your hand brushed his as you gave him his order.

10:00 AM: Shift end. 

10:30 AM: Rush to classes.

Some mornings, he’d arrive in wrinkled scrubs, the faint scent of antiseptic clinging to him. Other days, it was a tailored dress shirt, sometimes with a matching tie. But the routine never changed.

Same order, same time, the same easy smile that would soften slightly when you remembered his order without him having to say it. Not that it was hard to begin with. 

“Someone’s got a secret admirer,” Maki would say, nudging you with her elbow as Dr. Gojo left. You’d roll your eyes, but a faint blush crept up your neck anyway.

Between customers, you'd try to squeeze in some studying. The early morning shift wasn't exactly ideal, but it paid better, and you needed every cent you could get for your pre-med textbooks. Those things cost more than your rent, it felt like.

Your anatomy textbook usually lay open behind the counter, hidden from customers' view but accessible during slower moments. Sometimes, when the morning rush died down, you'd catch Dr. Gojo's eyes flickering to the pages as you made his latte. His expression would shift slightly, but he never commented on it.

You wondered sometimes if he was judging your highlighting technique (chaotic at best) or your margin notes (mostly question marks). He must have gone through all this years ago, probably with much more grace than your current fumbling through medical terminology.

The café job barely covered your expenses — between tuition, rent, and those damn textbooks — but at least it was flexible with your class schedule. Your manager understood when you needed to switch shifts for exams, and the free coffee helped during all-nighters.

Your coworkers thought you were crazy for taking such early shifts. "No one should be awake at 5:30 AM," they'd say. But they didn't understand the quiet peace of morning prep, the satisfaction of perfect latte art, or the way certain blue eyes would crinkle at the corners when you got his order just right.

It was a small thing, a fleeting smile, a brush of fingertips, but it was enough to make the early mornings, the aching feet, the constant struggle, almost worth it.

Not that you stuck to this schedule just for him. Obviously not. The extra dollar per hour for opening shift was the real motivator. The fact that it coincided with Dr. Gojo's apparent coffee schedule was just... coincidence.

Sometimes, during chaotic study sessions between customers, you'd catch him watching you mouth medical terms to yourself as you steamed milk. His eyes would linger on your textbook, then flick back to your face with that same intense look that made you wonder if he was counting your remaining days or something—or still trying to figure out if that one mole on your cheek was turning malignant.

The morning you had your anatomy midterm, your textbook sat next to the register, full of sticky notes and frantic annotations. You saw him notice it, saw something shift in his expression as he took in the obvious signs of exam stress. That day, he left an extra large tip with a small note that just said "Good luck."

It was probably just pity. He'd been through med school. He knew the hell you were going through. That had to be it. Absolutely. No other explanation.

That’s what you told yourself, anyway, as you added the note into your wallet, shoving it down next to a crumpled grocery list and a faded movie ticket stub, as if burying it under a pile of mundane objects could somehow bury the flutter in your chest.

For six months, this had been your life. Balancing early mornings, late classes, endless studying, and the mystery of a doctor who looked at you like you were a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.

So when he finally broke pattern that random rainy monday morning, it wasn't with some dramatic revelation about your health you’d imagined. Instead, he tilted his head slightly while waiting for his usual and said, "You changed your hair."

You nearly dropped the caramel syrup. After six months of intense stares and loaded silences, after convincing yourself he was cataloging your symptoms or contemplating your mortality, he was commenting on your hair?

"Oh." Your hand instinctively went to the ends you'd trimmed over the weekend. "Yeah, just a few inches."

"It suits you." He said it so casually, like he hadn't just shattered half a year of mysterious doctor mystique with three words. Then, with that same matter-of-fact tone, "The pathophysiology textbook you were reading last week—Robbins, right? It’s really good. Especially the part about metaplasia. Interesting stuff."

And just like that, the spell was broken. No terminal diagnosis. No earth-shattering revelations. Just a doctor who apparently noticed haircuts and had opinions about medical textbooks. 

The sudden normalcy of it all was almost jarring. For months, you’d been half-convinced he was silently cataloging your every freckle, every mole, every perceived imperfection, convinced he was about to deliver some devastating news. Now? He was talking about metaplasia. It was almot—anticlimactic. 

And, if you were being honest, a little embarrassing. All those covert checks in the reflection of the espresso machine, all those frantic Google searches for “atypical nevi”—for this?

You almost wanted to laugh.

After that day, your morning routine shifted slightly. He still came in at exactly 7:15, still ordered the same diabetis-inducing latte, still watched you work with those intense blue eyes the color of glacial ice. But now he'd occasionally comment on your study materials, or mention an interesting case that related to whatever chapter you were currently highlighting.

"Cardiac arrhythmias today?" he'd ask, spotting your textbook. "Had a case of atrial fibrillation yesterday. The patient presented with…" He’d then launch into a quick explanation, sketching a diagram on a napkin that somehow made more sense than three hours of lecture on the same topic.

Your coworkers were almost disappointed by this development. "That's it?" Maki had said when you told her. "Six months of smoldering looks and he just... helps you study?"

But somehow, it felt right. The mysterious doctor with pretty eyes turned out to be just a man who noticed details and perhaps had a soft spot for struggling med students. 

He still made your heart do that stupid flutter thing when his fingers brushed yours during the handoff, but now you had a perfectly logical explanation for that of course—the vagus nerve or some other equally fascinating cardiovascular phenomenon he'd just explained.

That had to be it.

Some mornings, when the café was quiet and you were stumped by a concept, he'd even linger a few minutes after getting his order. He’d lean against the counter, close enough that you could smell the faint scent of his cologne, gesturing with his cup while breaking down complex medical theories into digestible pieces, somehow making autoimmune disorders sound as simple as iced latte recipes. 

"You'll make a good doctor," he said one morning, completely out of nowhere and your cheeks flushed a deep crimson.

Your relationship—if you could even call it that—settled into something comfortably in-between. More than customer and barista, less than friends, but with a rhythm all its own. He'd quiz you while you made his usual, turning morning coffee runs into study sessions.

"Name three complications of chronic hypertension," he'd say while you pumped caramel into his cup.

"Increased risk of heart attack, stroke, and kidney disease," you'd reply, adding the extra shot of espresso he never actually ordered but always appreciated.

"Good. Now tell me about secondary causes."

One random Tuesday morning, however, the bell didn't chime at 7:15. You glanced at the clock, then back at the door. 

7:16. 

7:17. 

A knot of unease tightened in your stomach. It was ridiculous, really. Why did you even care? He was just a customer. A regular customer, yes, but still just a customer. It wasn't like you were waiting for him or anything. You were just—used to the routine. That was all. 

But despite your attempts at rationalization, a small, nagging worry began to gnaw at you. Had something happened? Was he okay? You found yourself staring at the door, your hand hovering over the espresso machine, your usual movements faltering slightly. You even messed up a latte, the foam swirling into a sad, lopsided blob instead of the usual pretty rosetta. 

At 7:20, just as you were about to convince yourself he’d just overslept and that you were being completely ridiculous, the bell finally rang. He rushed in, slightly out of breath, his cheeks flushed. "Sorry I'm late," he said, his voice a little rushed. "Crazy morning at the hospital."

He looked like he’d run all the way, which was odd. Why would he run? It’s not like his coffee was that important. Right? And yet, your stupid heart did a little flip at the sight of him, a traitorous swell of warmth blooming in your chest. He made it. He was here.

He stayed extra long that morning. After the rush died down, he listened to you recite your flashcards, correcting your pronunciation of medical terms with a patience that made you wonder if he moonlighted as a professor. It was a strange sort of intimacy, this shared moment of slow study amidst the busy morning rush and the soft hum of the refrigerators. 

And you never wanted that morning to end.

Your coworkers had stopped teasing you about him—mostly—and started asking if he could explain their own health questions instead. Then came the random stormy Wednesday that changed everything.

The morning had started normally enough—he arriving at 7:15 sharp, you already having his sugar latte ready. But the sky had opened up while he was waiting, rain drumming against the café windows. It wasn’t a gentle shower. It was a deluge, the kind that turned streets into rivers in minutes.

"Did you bring an umbrella?" he asked, watching you glance at the downpour.

"No," you sighed, already dreading the soggy walk to campus. "I checked the forecast last night—it said sunny all day." You internally cursed the weather app.

"When does your shift end?"

"Huh? Oh, uhm 10 AM. I have microbiology at 10:30."

His lips twitched into a faint smile and he left without another word. You tried not to feel disappointed—what had you expected? It's not like he could control the weather.

But at 10 AM sharp, as you were pulling your jacket tighter and preparing to make a run for it, you spotted him through the rain-streaked windows. He was standing outside the café in his white coat, holding a large dark blue umbrella. 

Your heart definitely did more than flutter this time.

"Ready?" he asked when you emerged, as if waiting in the pouring rain for some barista was perfectly normal doctor behavior.

"You didn't have to—"

"Can't have my favorite barista catching pneumonia," he said. "Besides, I'm heading that direction anyway." You knew for a fact the hospital was in the opposite direction.

The walk to campus was suddenly—intimate. It was strange being this close to him. You’d seen him every morning for months, but always across the counter, a safe distance separating you. Now, you were walking side-by-side, the scent of his cologne so close it made it hard to focus on anything but his proximity, to say the least.

"So, what are you studying in Microbiology?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"We're covering bacterial pathogenesis this week," you replied, and the conversation drifted naturally to a discussion of how different pathogens could affect various organ systems like it was normal small talk.

As other pedestrians passed, their own umbrellas bobbing and weaving, he’d subtly pull you closer. Each time he did, your breath would catch in your throat, and a fresh wave of warmth would wash over you. You were grateful for his height, because you were certain your cheeks were flushed a deep shade of red.

It was absurd, how flustered you were by such a simple act, but the feeling of his arm occasionally brushing against yours, the shared intimacy of the small space beneath the umbrella, was enough to send your heart racing.

Desperate to focus on something else, you blurted out, "What kind of doctor are you, anyway? I never actually asked."

"Cardiology," he replied simply.

“Cardiology,” you repeated, the word lingering on your tongue. A doctor of the heart. When you reached the medical sciences building, he paused, lowering the umbrella slightly. The rain had begun to ease, but the air still smelled wet and clean.

"Thanks," you said, meeting his gaze. "For the umbrella escort."

"Anytime." That soft smile again, the one that made your heart do a stupid little skip again.

As you watched him walk away, umbrella tilted against the rain, you realized something had shifted. Maybe you weren't quite friends, maybe you weren't quite anything definable, but whatever this was—it felt like the beginning of something. Something more than just sharing an umbrella on rainy days.

⋆꙳•❅•̩❅*̩‧͙ *̩❆₊˚｡❆

Winter arrived on a random thursday morning, transforming rain into snow and turning your early morning walks to work into arctic expeditions.

It was during one of these frigid mornings, while you were preparing Dr. Gojo's usual order and the steam from the espresso machines fogging up the frost-covered windows, that your phone rang. Your mother's contact photo flashed on the screen.

You answered with your phone pressed between ear and shoulder, still working the machines. "Hi, Mom."

"Sweetheart! I was just planning Christmas dinner. You're bringing someone this year, right? That nice boy from your anatomy class you mentioned?"

You winced, catching Dr. Gojo's raised eyebrow from where he stood at the counter. "Mom—"

"Because Aunt Marie's daughter just got engaged, and you know how she gets—"

"My boyfriend's actually busy with hospital rotations," you blurted out, immediately wanting to punch yourself. "He's, uh, very dedicated to his work."

"Boyfriend? Why didn't you tell me? What's his name? What does he—"

"Sorry, Mom, huge line forming, gotta go!" You hung up, letting your forehead thump against the coffee machine with a groan.

"That sounded stressful," Dr. Gojo commented, amusement clear in his voice.

You looked up to find him watching you with that slight smile that always made you shiver. "Just my mom being... my mom." You resumed making his latte. "She's convinced that at twenty-five, I'm practically a spinster."

"Ah." He tilted his head. "And this fictional boyfriend with hospital rotations?"

Your cheeks heated. "Seemed easier than explaining why I'm still single. Between work, classes, and studying, I barely have time to sleep, let alone date." You handed him his usual. "Plus, now she'll stop trying to set me up with every eligible male she meets through her book club."

"A creative solution," he said, taking a sip. "Though hospital rotations over Christmas? Sounds like a terrible boyfriend." A playful smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Yeah, well, imaginary men are often disappointing." You started wiping down the counter, needing something to do with your hands. "At least this way I'll have a few weeks of peace before I have to tell her we broke up."

"Sounds like you've done this before," he observed, watching you attack an imaginary coffee stain with perhaps too much force.

"Is it that obvious?" You sighed, abandoning your fake cleaning. "Last year he was studying abroad. The year before that, he was sick. I'm running out of excuses, honestly. Pretty sure my mom's stopped believing me, but she plays along because it's less awkward than admitting we both know I'm lying."

He made a thoughtful sound, then pulled out his prescription pad (why did doctors always carry those around anyway?). You watched, confused, as he scribbled something down and slid it across the counter.

"Here," he said. "My number. Call me during Christmas dinner."

You stared at him. "What?"

"Well, your imaginary boyfriend should at least make an effort, don't you think?" His eyes held that familiar amusement. "I'll tell your mom all about my very important hospital rounds, maybe throw in some medical words. Make it convincing."

You stared at him, mouth slightly agape. Was he… offering to pretend to be your boyfriend? You couldn't quite process what was happening. 

"You know," he said, after you'd probably been quiet for too long, "some of us actually do work hospital rotations over Christmas."

"I know, I just—" You stopped, realizing how her words might have sounded. "Oh god, I didn't mean to imply… I know you probably have to work during the holidays too, I wasn't trying to—"

"Someone has to make sure all those Christmas dinner caused heart attacks are properly treated," he interrupted, that familiar, almost-smirk back on his face, easing the tension in your shoulders. "Though I do get Christmas morning off this year."

You couldn't tell if he was trying to make you feel better about your lie, your accidental insult, or just sharing information. With Dr. Gojo, it was often hard to tell. After a moment of stunned silence, you managed, "Are you… sure?"

"Perfectly.”

"Thank you," you said, finally finding your voice as you picked up the slip of paper. "Really, thank you."

"Anytime," he said, that familiar, soft smile gracing his lips. "Consider it a Christmas gift. From your very dedicated, albeit fictional, boyfriend."

As you watched him leave, coffee in hand and snowflakes catching in his white hair. Even if he was probably going to tease you endlessly about your fictional, workaholic boyfriend for weeks to come, a small, stupid part of you was already looking forward to it.

⋆꙳•❅•̩❅*̩‧͙ *̩❆₊˚｡❆

The Christmas dinner was a random Friday night.

The table, laden with enough food to feed a small army, was surrounded by the usual suspects and the dinner turned out to be exactly as excruciating as you'd expected. You'd barely made it through the appetizers before the interrogation began.

"So, this boyfriend of yours," Aunt Marie started. "What did you say he does again?"

"He's a doctor," you said into your mashed potatoes.

"A doctor!" your mother brightened. "You never mentioned that part."

Your cousin Sarah leaned forward. "What kind of doctor? Where did he study? How did you meet?"

You were considering faking a sudden illness when your phone buzzed. Dr. Gojo's name lit up your screen with a video call request. You hadn't even suggested a video call—he was truly committing to this.

"Oh, that's him now!" Your mother said, clapping her hands together. "Put him on speaker!"

Before you could protest, you were surrounded by a sea of curious relatives as you answered the call. The screen filled with Dr. Gojo's face, and—oh god—he was actually in scrubs, in what looked like a real operating room.

"Hey, my love," he said as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and the casual nickname hit you like a train, making you forget your own name. You felt your cheeks flush and it didn’t help that he somehow managed to look unfairly handsome even under the surgical lights. "Sorry I couldn't make it. We had an emergency valve replacement come in."

"Are you... actually in surgery right now?" you asked.

"Just finished!" He tilted the phone slightly to show a glimpse of a team of medical staff behind him, all of whom waved. One even gave a thumbs up. "Thought I'd catch you before dessert. Is that your family I see?"

Your entire extended family crammed themselves into frame, cooing and waving at your "doctor boyfriend" who was dedicated enough to call from work.

"Oh my god, he's gorgeous," your cousin said.

"Dr. Gojo," your mother pushed forward, "we're so disappointed you couldn't join us. Though of course, saving lives comes first!"

"Please, call me Satoru," he said, flashing that unfairly attractive smile of his. "And I'm more disappointed than anyone. I was really looking forward to trying your famous apple pie that your daughter keeps telling me about."

Your mother clutched her chest, delighted. You had never once mentioned her apple pie to him. 

"Are those Christmas decorations I see in the OR?" your aunt squinted at the screen.

And indeed, there were actual Christmas lights strung up in the background. Either this hospital was very festive, or he'd gone to ridiculous lengths for this act.

"We try to keep the holiday spirit alive, even here," he said, then suddenly looked off-screen. "Oh, looks like we have another emergency coming in." Dramatic beeping noises increased in the background. "I'm so sorry, but duty calls. It was lovely meeting you all!"

"Such a dedicated young man," your mother sighed after you ended the call.

"So handsome too," Aunt Marie added. "Those eyes!"

You slumped in your chair, caught between mortification and amusement. He really didn't have to go that far—the Christmas lights in the OR? The perfectly timed “emergency”? The entire surgical team playing along? It was almost impressive.

Your phone buzzed with a text: 'How'd I do? The lights were my colleague's idea. They says Merry Christmas, by the way. Your family seems nice.'

Another buzz, a separate message: 'Also, I expect a slice of that famous apple pie at the café tomorrow. After that performance, I think I've earned it.'

You typed back: 'You are absolutely insufferable. That was completely over the top.'

His response came almost instantly: 'Is that any way to talk to your dedicated doctor boyfriend who just saved a life AND charmed your entire family? I'm hurt.'

Despite yourself, you smiled.

Your phone buzzed one more time: 'By the way, your cousin already found my hospital's public contact info and sent a friend request. Should I accept? I feel like a committed boyfriend would.'

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. He was absolutely loving this. 

Way too much.

The next morning, you weren't surprised when he showed up at his usual 7:15, despite it being his day off. What did surprise you was that he was still wearing scrubs. They were rumpled, like he'd been wearing them for a while.

"Please tell me you didn't actually work all night just to make that video call more convincing," you said as he approached the counter.

"You know, I am a doctor in real life, right? This isn't just a cover for your mom." He smirked. "But anyway, just finished an actual emergency shift." He glanced at the paper bag you had waiting next to his usual sugary coffee. "Is that… what I think it is?"

"Your well-earned reward for yesterday's Oscar-worthy performance." You handed him both coffee and pie. "Though I still can't believe you got your entire surgical team to play along."

"Bold of you to assume I had to ask." He took a bite of the pie and his eyes widened slightly. "Okay, your mom's reputation is deserved. This is actually amazing."

"Yeah, well, enjoy it while it lasts, because—" You hesitated, took a deep breath, and decided to just rip the bandage off. "She invited you to dinner. Tomorrow."

He paused mid-bite. "Oh?"

"I told her you're probably busy—"

"What time?"

You stared at him. "What?"

"What time is dinner?" He took another bite of pie, looking perfectly casual about the whole thing. "I actually have Sunday evening off, and this pie has convinced me your mom's cooking is worth experiencing in person."

"You can't be serious."

"Why not?" He shrugged. "I've already met them virtually. Might as well complete the experience. Unless you're worried I'll embarrass you?"

"I'm worried you'll be too convincing again," you said. "My mom's already planning our wedding, by the way. She told me this morning that your 'dedication to work' proves you'd be a good husband."

"Well, I'd hate to disappoint a future mother-in-law."

"This isn't funny!"

"It's a little funny." He leaned against the counter, grinning. "Come on, one dinner. I promise to be slightly less charming this time."

"Somehow I doubt that's possible," you said before you could stop yourself.

His smile widened. "Was that a compliment?"

"That was a complaint about your inability to do anything halfway." You busied yourself with wiping down the already clean counter. "But fine. Sunday at seven. Try not to bring Christmas lights this time."

"No promises." He pushed off from the counter, taking his coffee and pie. "Oh, and by the way?"

"Hmm?"

"I accepted your cousin's friend request. She's already invited me to your family's New Year's party."

He was halfway to the door when he paused, turning back with an expression that was softer than his usual teasing smile. "You look pretty today, by the way. The new sweater suits you." 

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. You hadn't even realized he'd noticed you'd changed from your usual work shirt into a cozy sweater for your afternoon classes.

He was out the door before you could stammer out a response, leaving you to wonder what exactly you had gotten yourself into. And why one simple, genuine compliment made your heart race more than all his dramatic boyfriend performances combined.

⋆꙳•❅•̩❅*̩‧͙ *̩❆₊˚｡❆

Sunday evening found you pacing a worn path in the carpet by your parents' front door, checking your phone every two minutes. 7:15 came and went—apparently his almost unnervingly precise timing only applied to coffee runs. 

You tried to convince yourself it was fine, that doctors had unpredictable schedules, but a nervous flutter had taken up residence in your stomach.

At 7:20, your mom’s worried, "Maybe he got called into surgery?" was interrupted by the doorbell. You took a deep breath, smoothing down your dress, and opened the door.

Standing there was Dr. Gojo—Satoru, you supposed you should call him now—looking slightly disheveled in a way that somehow only emphasized his unfairly attractive features. His white dress shirt, though slightly untucked at the waist, bore the clear signs of a hurried ironing, and he was carrying what looked like an expensive bottle of wine—definitely not the kind you’d find at the corner store.

"I'm so sorry," he said, running a hand through his already slightly tousled white hair. "Emergency consultation ran late, and then traffic was—"

"It's fine," you interrupted, a wave of relief washing over you. He’d actually come. "Really. You didn't have to—"

But the rest of your sentence disappeared into a surprised squeak as he stepped forward, closing the small gap between you. He leaned in and gently pressed a kiss to your cheek, his free hand settling naturally on your waist, just above your hip, as if he’d done it a hundred times before.

"Hi," he whispered against your ear, and you could hear the smile in his voice. "Missed you today at the café."

You stood frozen, brain short-circuiting from the casual intimacy of it all. This wasn't part of the plan. You hadn't discussed... this. The way his hand felt warm through your dress, how his cologne made you slightly dizzy, how natural it felt to have him this close. It was as if your body already knew this was right, even if your mind was still scrambling to catch up.

"I... you..." Words. You needed words. "You're late."

He pulled back just enough to give you that familiar amused look. "And you're blushing."

Before you could even process that observation—or the fact that your heart was currently attempting to beat its way out of your chest—your mother appeared behind you. "Satoru! We're so glad you could make it!"

He smoothly stepped past you to greet your parents, all charm and apologies for his lateness, seamlessly weaving a plausible story about a last-minute emergency consult and unexpected traffic. He shook your father’s hand with just the right amount of respectful firmness and charmed your mother with a compliment about her festive decorations. All while he left you standing in the doorway, slightly dazed, trying to remember how to perform basic human functions like breathing and blinking.

The slight smirk he threw over his shoulder as he joined the others in the living room told you he knew exactly what he'd done.

Insufferable man.

The dinner was simultaneously the longest and shortest evening of your life. Satoru slipped into the role of doting boyfriend with an unsettling ease, weaving medical anecdotes (carefully tailored for a non-medical audience) and charming compliments into the conversation like he'd been rehearsing for weeks. He even managed to compliment Aunt Marie’s notoriously sweet cheesecake without visibly wincing.

He sat close enough that your legs brushed under the table, his hand finding its way to your knee during your mother's third attempt to bring up wedding venues (she was already browsing bridal magazines online, you’d noticed). The casual touch, which should have made you incredibly nervous, instead felt strangely good, like a shared secret between the two of you in the midst of the family chaos.

"And how did you two actually meet?" your aunt asked over dessert.

"She makes the best coffee in the city," Satoru answered smoothly, his thumb drawing absent circles on your thigh beneath the tablecloth. "Though it took me months to work up the courage to say more than my order."

You nearly choked on your wine. He was mixing truth and fiction so seamlessly you almost believed it yourself. 

Every story he told had just enough reality to make you question your own memory. He mentioned how you study between customers, but added details about imaginary conversations. He even talked about your first "date" with such specificity that you found yourself half-believing it had happened.

His hand never left your leg for long, occasionally squeezing gently when your relatives’ questions became too invasive. Somehow, he’d effortlessly positioned himself as both the charming guest and the attentive boyfriend, deflecting awkward questions with a disarming smile. And you’d never been so grateful for anything in your life as you were for him breaking the pattern on that random, rainy Monday morning.

"He even helped me with pathophysiology," you found yourself saying, leaning into him slightly, enjoying it. Two could play at this game.

"She didn't need much help," he replied, his voice laced with a warmth that sounded genuinely proud. It made your heart flutter. "Just someone to hold her flashcards while she made my ridiculously sweet coffee."

Your father, who hadn't said much all evening, finally smiled. "She works too hard sometimes."

"She does," Satoru agreed, his hand sliding just a fraction higher on your thigh under the table. "Though that's one of the things I admire most about her." A wave of heat rushed to your face, and you quickly looked away, focusing on a particularly uninteresting spot on the tablecloth. This is getting out of hand.

As the conversation shifted to some other topic—something about your uncle's questionable golf swing—you leaned in slightly, whispering just loud enough for him to hear, "You're awfully charming."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping lower so that only you could hear. "Funny, you don't seem to hate it." You felt your cheeks burn even hotter now.

By the time dinner ended, your mother was completely smitten, your aunts were bickering over who would host the next family gathering (with Satoru as the guest of honor, of course), and your cousin had somehow convinced him to follow her Instagram—and had already tagged him in three separate stories.

It was all too smooth, too perfect, too real. 

The way he helped you clear the table, his hand brushing the small of your back in a casual, yet intimate touch as he passed. How he effortlessly recalled every detail you’d ever mentioned about your family, from your grandmother’s obsession with crossword puzzles to your father’s love of bad puns. The soft, lingering looks he gave you when he thought no one was watching, filled with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher.

"You're very good at this," you said as you stood side by side at the sink, washing dishes after dinner.

"At what?"

"Playing pretend."

His hands paused for just a moment. "Who says I'm pretending?"

The wine glass you were drying slipped from your suddenly nerveless fingers. You managed to catch it before it shattered on the tile floor, but not before making enough noise to draw his attention.

"Hey." His hand was immediately at your waist, steadying you. "You okay?"

"Fine! I'm fine, just—" You set the glass down carefully, very aware of how close he was standing.  When you turned to face him, you found yourself effectively trapped between his broad frame and the hard edge of the kitchen counter. "Slippery hands. From the... soap."

"Hmm." His eyes searched your face, and for a fleeting moment, you thought—you could have sworn—his gaze flickered down to your lips before returning to meet your eyes. "You know, for someone who spends all day handling hot liquids, you've seemed very clumsy tonight."

"Maybe I'm just… distracted.”

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your face as he leaned infinitesimally closer, his eyes fixed on yours. One hand came up to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your cheek, his fingertips grazing your skin, the contact sending a shiver down your spine. "By what?" 

"You're doing it again," you whispered.

"Doing what?"

"Being too convincing."

A slow, almost hesitant smile spread across his face. It was a smile that reached his eyes, a smile that felt utterly real, utterly intimate, making your heart stutter in your chest. "Perhaps," he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath against your skin, "maybe I'm not trying to convince anyone anymore."

You could feel his breath ghosting over your lips, the slight tremor in his hand where it rested on your waist, the way the kitchen suddenly felt too warm, too small, too—

"Who wants coffee?" your mother's voice carried from the dining room, making you both jump apart. Satoru cleared his throat, taking a hasty step back, his hand dropping from your waist. 

The rest of dinner passed in a surreal haze, neither of you quite able to forget the charged moment in the kitchen. What was that? You kept replaying the scene in your mind. His hand on your waist, his breath on your lips, the sudden shift in his eyes. It had felt… different. More real than any of the playacting. 

It wasn't until your aunt, after a drawn out round of goodbyes and air kisses, finally got up to leave that anyone noticed the shift in the weather. "Oh my goodness," your mother gasped, pulling back the curtains. "When did it start snowing?"

Outside, the world had transformed into a winter wonderland that would've been charming under different circumstances. At least a foot of snow covered everything, still falling heavily in thick, white sheets.

"The weather alert says it's going to continue all night," your father reported, checking his phone. "They're advising against any travel. Roads are already getting bad."

Your mother immediately switched into hostess mode. "You absolutely can't drive in this, Satoru. These roads won't be plowed until morning, at the earliest."

"I'm sure I can—" he started.

"Absolutely not," she interrupted. "You'll stay here tonight. Both of you."

You nearly choked on air. "Mom—"

"Don't be silly, dear," she said, already bustling towards the hallway. "You can take your old room, of course. It's all made up. Satoru," she called over her shoulder, "I'll go find some spare cloths for you." Then, turning back to you, she added, "And honey, you still have some things in your old room, so it'll be just like old times!"

Old times? What old times? Your childhood bedroom with those old embarrassing school photos and faded posters of your first boyband crush that you’d somehow never gotten around to taking down? This was not part of the plan. This was definitely not part of the plan.

He wasn't supposed to see that side of you.

As you counted down the seconds until you completely died from embarrassment your parents bustled off to prepare the rooms, leaving you and Satoru alone again. He leaned against the window, watching the snow fall, a small smile playing at his lips.

"Convenient weather we're having," you said suspiciously.

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you implying I somehow arranged a snowstorm?"

"At this point, I wouldn't put it past you."

His laugh was soft and warm. "As flattered as I am by your faith in my abilities, even I can't control the weather." He glanced at you. "Though I have to admit, this is working out better than my original plan of pretending my car wouldn't start."

"You're impossible," you groaned.

"So I've been told." He pushed off from the window, moving closer. He stopped just inches away, until you could feel the heat from his body. His gaze dropped—or you thought it did, your pulse quickening at the mere possibility—to your lips for the briefest of moments before returning to meet your eyes. You blinked, trying to clear your head. No, it couldn't be. "Though I notice you're not exactly complaining about the situation."

Before you could formulate a witty retort (or even a coherent thought, for that matter), your mother’s voice rang out from upstairs, effectively putting an end to whatever was about to happen. "I found some spare clothes, Satoru! And honey," she called down, "your old band t-shirts are still in your dresser!"

You covered your face with your hands. "Please forget everything she's about to show you."

"Now how could I possibly pass up the chance to see teenage you's fashion choices?" 

You peaked through your fingers to find him smirking, looking far too delighted by this turn of events. This was going to be a very long night.

⋆꙳•❅•̩❅*̩‧͙ *̩❆₊˚｡❆

"I really can sleep on the floor," Satoru offered for the third time, shifting his weight awkwardly in the doorway of your childhood bedroom. He looked around, taking in your teenage decorating choices, and you could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

"Don't be ridiculous." You tried to sound casual as you smoothed down the NASA bedsheets you'd had since high school on your small bed, that suddenly looked barely big enough for one, let alone two adults. "We're both adults. We can share a bed without it being weird."

He was quiet for a moment, and when you glanced up, you found him studying your teenage self's wall decorations with poorly hidden amusement. It was a chaotic mixture of faded movie posters (mostly featuring heartthrobs from your early teens), band posters (an ambarrasing One Direction poster taking center stage), and a poorly crafted periodic table, complete with hand-drawn elements and color-coded categories.

"Nice periodic table," he finally said.

"Shut up," you muttered, throwing a pillow at him. He caught it easily, because of course he did. "Some of us were nerds before med school."

You turned to your old closet, pulling out one of those oversized band t-shirts you'd lived in during high school. You gripped the hem of your sweater, suddenly very aware of his presence in the small room.

You could feel his eyes on you, a weight on your back, and you could feel the heat creeping up your neck. You paused, your fingers frozen on the soft knit. "Um… could you…?" you trailed off, not wanting to meet his gaze.

He didn't say anything, didn't move. You could practically feel his gaze burning into your back. Finally, you turned, holding your band t-shirt protectively in front of you. "Seriously. Turn around."

He blinked. "You know, I am a doctor. I've seen it all."

"Still," you insisted, your cheeks flushing. "Turn. Around."

He sighed, but finally turned his back, though the lingering amusement in his eyes told you he was still enjoying the situation immensely.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” you muttered, pulling the t-shirt over your head. You smoothed it down, then took a deep breath. 

"I would never," he said.

"You can turn around now."

He turned, his face carefully composed, though a telltale twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away. His eyes traveled from the hem of the shirt to your face, making your heart stutter. "You look… cute."

"You're a terrible liar.”

You both settled into bed with careful movements, lying rigid as boards, backs facing each other in a vain attempt at maintaining some sort of personal space. The mattress, however, had other plans. It dipped under his weight, creating a subtle slope that kept trying to draw you toward the center—toward him. 

Your childhood bed, which had seemed perfectly adequate when you were sixteen, now felt absurdly small. You pressed against the edge, but it was no use, there couldn't have been more than a few inches between your back and his. You could feel the heat of his body, warming the small space between you, his every breath, the subtle shift of the sheets when he moved.

The silence stretched, filled only with the sound of falling snow outside your window and your own heartbeat. It felt so loud, you were certain he could hear it.

"Thank you," you finally whispered into the darkness. "For tonight. For all of it. You didn't have to do any of this."

The bed shifted as he turned over. After a moment's hesitation, you did too, finding yourself face to face with him in the dim light of the streetlamp filtering through your old curtains. His hair was disheveled from the pillow, his expression softer than you'd ever seen it.

"It was fun," he said simply, his breath warm against your cheek.

A small laugh escaped your lips. "Fun? My mom interrogated you about your entire medical history, my dad made you look at his coin collection for an hour, and my cousin tried to show you every embarrassing photo of me from middle school."

"The braces years were particularly charming."

You kicked his shin lightly under the covers. "Shut up."

He grinned, the warmth in his eyes visible even in the dim light. "I mean it, though. Your family is… lively."

"That's a polite way of saying chaotic."

"They care about you. It's nice."

You studied his face, searching for the truth in his words. "Why did you really come tonight? You could have easily found an excuse to avoid this disaster of a family dinner."

"Would you believe me if I said I wanted to?"

"No," you said. "Nobody wants to spend their evening being questioned by my parents and subjected to my aunt's weird baking."

He was quiet for a moment, his eyes never leaving yours. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, more serious. "Maybe I wanted to understand you better. See where you came from. Meet the people who made you... you."

Your heart stuttered in your chest. "Why would you care about any of that?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

You stared at him, suddenly very aware of how close you were, how little space there was between you in this too-small bed. "No," you whispered. "It's not obvious at all."

"Then I must be doing a terrible job of showing you."

Your heart was racing now, your voice barely audible. "Showing me what?"

Before you could respond, he shifted, until he was hovering above you. Your breath caught at the change, at how his white hair fell forward framing his face, at how his eyes seemed to hold entire galaxies in them.

And then he kissed you.

The kiss was nothing like the casual touch of lips from before. It was soft, sweet, and achingly tender at first. He moved against you slowly, his lips parting slightly, inviting you to deepen the kiss. You met his silent invitation, your own lips parting in response. One hand cupped your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek, while the other braced against the mattress, supporting his weight. 

Then, with a soft sigh, he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a gentle urgency that made your heart ache with a longing you hadn’t known you carried. He pulled you closer, just a fraction, the kiss becoming more urgent, more demanding, yet still laced with a surprising tenderness. 

You could feel the rapid thump of his heart against your own chest but then, just as suddenly as it began, he pulled back, breaking the kiss. He didn't move far, though, remaining close enough that you could still feel his breath on your face, see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. "Still think I'm just playing pretend?"

This time, you didn't hesitate. You were the one who moved forward, your hand sliding into his hair, the soft strands tangling around your fingers, pulling him back down to you. His surprised intake of breath was quickly lost as your lips met again.

This kiss was different—deeper, more urgent, six months of watching and waiting poured into a single moment. He made a low sound in his throat as your fingers tightened in his hair, urging him closer. 

His own hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, his fingers pressing gently into the sensitive skin there. The weight of him pressed you into the mattress, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of your band t-shirt.

"I've wanted to do that since the first time you rolled your eyes at my coffee order," he said against your lips, his voice rough in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

"That long?" You tried to sound teasing, but it came out breathless instead.

He smiled against your lips. "Longer, probably." He pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, then another to your jawline. "Though watching you try to diagnose yourself with every terrible disease I mentioned was pretty entertaining, too."

You groaned, burying your face in the crook of his neck. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Never," he agreed, pressing a kiss to your temple. Then, quieter, more intimate, "But I've got plenty of time to make it up to you."

His lips trailed down your neck, each gentle press sending shivers through your body. When he reached the collar of your t-shirt, he paused, his fingers toying with the hem. "Can I?"

You nodded, not trusting your voice, and he slowly, teasingly, pushed the fabric up, revealing your stomach inch by inch. The first brush of his lips against your bare skin made you gasp, your fingers tightening reflexively in his silky hair.

He took his time, pressing kisses to your belly, your ribs, the valley between your breasts. His tongue darted out, tasting your skin, leaving trails of fire in its wake. Your back arched, subtly at first, but with increasing urgency as his lips and hands explored your skin.

His fingers, still toying with the hem of your shirt, finally slipped beneath the fabric. He traced the curve of your waist, the swell of your breasts, leaving goosebumps in their wake. When his thumbs brushed over your nipples, you couldn't suppress the moan that escaped your lips. "More," you whispered, the word barely audible, but he heard it, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

"You sure?"

"Yes," you breathed. "Please."

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your sleeping shorts. Your heart raced, your skin flushed, every nerve ending racing with the promise of what was to come.

He dragged the fabric down your legs, the cool air hitting your heated skin making you shiver. He settled between your thighs, his broad shoulders forcing your legs wider, and lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, his kisses trailing down your inner thigh. And then his mouth was on you, and the world fell away. 

⋆꙳•❅•̩❅*̩‧͙ *̩❆₊˚｡❆

The next morning felt like stepping into a dream—a world where Dr. Satoru Gojo, the man you’d spent six months convinced was silently diagnosing you with rare diseases, was actually just a man utterly smitten with you.

It was as if a blurry lens had finally snapped into focus, revealing a picture so obvious you almost laughed. All those intense stares, the carefully timed coffee shop visits, the way he’d linger at your counter, even helping you study—it had never been about mysterious illnesses or professional concern. 

He’d simply been trying to be near you, and you’d been too busy inventing medical mysteries to notice.

And the most embarrassing part? How obvious it had been to everyone else. Your coworkers’ knowing looks finally made sense, as did your mother’s immediate acceptance of him as your “boyfriend.” Even his colleagues had been in on it, helping stage that ridiculous Christmas video call just to make you smile. 

When you later confessed your obliviousness to your coworkers, their reactions ranged from “Finally!” to a bewildered “Wait, you mean he wasn’t actually your boyfriend this whole time?”

Over breakfast, as he effortlessly charmed your mother into accepting a third helping of pancakes he casually dropped the bomb to your mom, “I actually rearranged my entire consultation schedule to match her shifts. I don't even like coffee."

Your mind went blank for a moment. He… what? Then, the implications crashed down on you. He’d rearranged his entire work schedule just to see you. And he hated coffee. He’d only ever ordered those sugary lattes because… because of you.

A blush crept up your neck, and you couldn't believe how adorably dense you’d been.

He met your gaze then, his blue eyes softening in that way that always made your heart flutter. Only now you understood what that look truly meant. He hadn’t been studying you. He’d been cherishing you with his gaze. He’d wanted to see you, to be near you, to simply be with you. And the realization made you ridiculously, undeniably happy.

Satoru walked over to you from where he stood next to your mom and leaned down, his breath warm against your temple, and pressed a soft kiss there. You closed your eyes, savoring the simple touch. God, you wanted more. You wanted him closer, his arms around you, his lips on yours again, just like last night.

You'll probably never get enough of that.

He pulled back slightly, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin. His gaze held yours, a soft smile playing on his lips. Then he whispered three words that made your world stand still, "I love you."

Three little words.

But those three words little changed everything.

It felt as though time itself had stopped. He loves me, the thought echoed in your mind, a fragile, beautiful sound you couldn't quite believe was real. You’d imagined this moment countless times in secret, tucked away in the quiet corners of your heart, but you'd never truly believed it could happen.

And in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his hand, the sweet scent of pancakes, and the soft morning light filtering through the kitchen window, you knew you’d never been happier in your entire life. 

And most importantly, you didn't have to pretend anymore. He wasn't just someone you were pretending to date for your family's sake. He was actually your boyfriend. Really, truly your boyfriend. And what had once felt like a performance suddenly felt very much like coming home.

But the best part? At exactly 7:15 the next morning, he still walked in, ordered his usual diabetes in a cup, and watched you work with those intense blue eyes. Only now, when you handed him his drink, he'd pull you close for a kiss that tasted of caramel and cinnamon.

"You know," he said one morning, watching you make his order, "for someone smart enough to get into med school, you were remarkably dense about this whole thing."

"Says the man who spent six months staring instead of just asking me out."

"I was building suspense."

"You were being creepy."

"Maybe," he said, then smilled. "But it worked, didn't it?"

And really, you couldn't argue with that. Though you did make his next latte extra sweet, just to watch him pretend to enjoy it.

After all, some things were worth suffering through overly sugary coffee for.

masterlist + tip jar

author's note — if you're familiar with a certain story on my blog, then no you didn't see this story, and this is definitely not a healthier version of another couple, and i absolutely do not have a thing for medical AUs, okay thank you.

anway, this was supposed to get spicier, but time got away from me because i really wanted to share it with you all for christmas so this is only suggestive, but i hope you enjoyed it either way. & thank you so much for reading this far !! your support means everything to me.

wishing you all a very merry christmas !! hope your holidays are filled with sweet coffee, warm embraces, and maybe even a handsome doctor of your own <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here!

tags — @fayuki @starmapz @snowsilver2000 @starlightanyaaa @sxnkuna

@cocomanga @nanamis-baker @rosso-seta @shervinss @chiyokoemilia

@janbannan @bloopsstuff

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[niningtori]

for the hope of it all | part one

part two

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

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

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

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

word count: 7.2k

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

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

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

that's what you tell yourself, at least.

-

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

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

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

-

“so what's the plan?” soobin asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“w-well, i —” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

“y-yeah…” you mumble, face downcast.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“n-no, nothing like that. i just —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i-i forgot.” 

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

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

“about?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

because it was easy. 

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

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

he’s just using you. 

he’s garbage.

he’s just gonna hurt you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“that’s…” 

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

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

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

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

“i-i didn’t mean to —” 

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“a-and, um, i —”

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

“but i —” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i’m… i know i was wrong, b-but i —” 

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

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

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[chaptersleftunwritten]

Demanding more

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Blurb: After Chrissy’s unfaithfulness to Eddie, Eddie realises that maybe he has been harbouring feelings for you for longer than he ever cared to notice. Is it too late for him to make it up to you?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Friend!Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, slight angst (I know, I’m sorry!), mutual pining, cursing, alcohol consumption, trust issues, claustrophobia, some out of character anger from Eddie, reckless fire usage, pet names, kissing. Characters are 20+

-

divider by @sxmmerberries & @reveriesources

“I need to know that you’re okay.”

Silence. A deep void of idle and infinite dark.

“I need to know that you’re going to be okay, at least…”

A plead. Bruised knees. Quaking breath. Clasped hands shaking. No rest.

“What do you want me to say? Tell me word for word and I’ll say it.” Eddie’s voice is a hoarse croak and the small light that you harbour in your chest dampens further at the sound, “I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t understand why you keep coming back to see me.”

“Because I love you.”

“Because you’re my friend.” The blade wedged into the bone of your sternum plunges further and twists mercilessly; so agonisingly paralysing that you almost wince aloud at the pain.

Red, tear burnt eyes meet yours and you internally flinch at the sight. You’ve never seen Eddie this way. So broken… so defeated.

It’s as if nettles sting at your own eyes and you blink away any moisture that threatens to gather on your waterline, “We are friends, right?” You ask again. Breathless and uncertain.

Before the chaos of the fight at the party you couldn’t remember much, so it scared you to know that you had contact with Eddie and you couldn’t remember what you had said to him. Or what he had said to you…

“Correct.” He forces a smile, just for you.

The relief that washes over you dissolves the palpable tension that smothered the air and Eddie feels his own rigidness melt away at the realisation that you weren’t the one who hurt him. Yes, you were Chrissy’s friend, but you weren’t her. You weren’t Chrissy. And you didn’t deserve this cold shoulder that he was dishing out to everyone.

He could be himself around you.

“I’m gonna be okay. You don’t have to worry about me so much.” He offers you a tight lipped smile and you return one similar except that it was full of sincerity and warmth.

“I get that I can’t change what happened, but I can be here with you and hold your hand through the storm,” you sigh softly, adverting your gaze to a nearby decaying rose. It’s petals have turned a dark wine colour and its stem has moulded, “I know what it’s like to watch someone that you lov- admire, turn their attention to someone else. Someone that isn’t you.” Your mouth sours and you feel your lips pinch downward at the corners faintly, “It gets easier with time. I’m sure you’ll find someone who’ll love you until their dying breath.”

The cool breeze lifts your hair from your knitted sweater clad shoulders, allowing the strands to flow freely behind you. You embrace the feeling of the freshness upon your skin. There was something so comforting about it. Something so freeing: like being reborn. Rejuvenated. You allow your eyes to close momentarily as you replenish yourself, letting your spirit breathe.

You quickly clam up at the sight of Eddie’s hawk like gaze fixated on your face when your eyes reopen and your cheeks flush furiously; your body’s way of punishing you for being so open and vulnerable around him.

“You seem like you’re busy,” you gesture knowingly to the scrap pieces of paper laid in front of him that had a bunch of sloppily written lyrics scored across it, “I’ll leave you be.” You punctuate your words with a brisk rise to your feet and you flatten out your jeans mindlessly that had become wrinkled from being perched cross legged on the grass. Eddie’s eyes never leave you. Not for a second.

“I’ll see you around, then?” He asks, his voice is a croak.

“Of course. I’ll see you later, Eddie.” You sling your heavy book bag over your shoulder as you prepare yourself to walk away.

He stops you in your tracks, “Call me Ed’s.” It’s evident that Eddie didn’t intend for his words to sound as desperate as they did and you try your best to ignore the plea in his voice. Out of respect for him and his situation.

“Okay.” You breathe softly with a nod and a sweet but sombre smile, “Bye, Ed’s.”

Eddie’s eyes warm as they watch you walk away and he even chuckles lightly to himself at how you look bashfully back at him over your shoulder; only to quickly dart your vision in front of you at the realisation that he was also admiring you.

And in that exact moment, Eddie can see a light at the end of this endless dark tunnel. In the form of a friend. An honest, loving and cherished friend…

You.

‘Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,

And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.’

William Shakespeare

-

Part of you felt sickeningly grateful that this had happened. As much as you hated the fact that Eddie was wounded, it gave you a feeling of opportunity. To be there for him and for him to realise how great you can be. How perfect you are for him.

However, upon witnessing his stinging red and bloodshot eyes that could only have come from his penetrative sadness you realise that you couldn’t see this as an ‘opportunity’. You couldn’t throw yourself at his feet and hope for his love to finally be requited. Not with him being so deeply hurt. So vulnerable and delicate.

Not delicate like a flower. Delicate like a bomb.

These silly ideals only happened in the fairy tales. The prince saves the princess from the wicked villain and they run off together to live happily ever after. But this was real life…

And there was no one coming to save you.

So instead, you settle for just being his friend. The friend that he has always had. The friend, that is all you’ll ever be to Edward Munson.

There comes a tricky time in your life where you just have to accept that some things will never be. They weren’t written in the stars the way you had always dreamed. Your prayers weren’t answered and all of your attempts at happiness and perfection fail.

You have to accept it. And move on.

No matter the cost. No matter how agonising. You had to ignore the gaping hole in your chest that laid bleeding all over the earth beneath your feet. Your sky tainted red with blood and fury and your tears and skin were flames. You had to endure this Hell.

For him.

And you could do it. You had walked through fire before— you were numb to the blistering heat.

But what you couldn’t handle was the claustrophobia you were feeling at The Hideout whilst you watched Eddie rock his feelings out from his bones. From his quaking soul. The low lit hall was captured in a Hellish red glowing aura and reality begins to distort around you.

“I wrote a song for a girl that wasn’t really worth my time,” Sweat glistens on Eddie’s body, dripping down the curve of his neck and from his face. His drenched black unruly curls stick to his forehead and you watch a drunken and sinister smile possess his face as he pulls a few sheets of paper from the back pocket of his distressed jeans, “And what’d you do when people waste your time?” He is handed a petrol lighter by Gareth, “You burn that shit to the fucking ground!” He screams in a rage you have never heard come from his sweet pillowy lips as he flicks the flint and engulfs the pages in hot red crimson. A strum from his guitar screeches through the space, rattling your ears and causing your heart to palpitate heavily.

The crowd goes ballistic, like wild animals and you are suddenly in a mosh pit of adrenaline surged metal heads. All banging their heads and leaping around. People grab your shoulders to try to propel themselves upward and into the band’s line of vision all whilst unknowingly forcing you down toward the linoleum ground.

Black spots fill your vision and your knees threaten to give out beneath you as you struggle to suck air into your lungs. An avalanche of sweaty body’s drowning you until you are nearly crouched onto the floor and you accept your fate as your hands brace themselves— stuck to the tarnished pattern beneath your sneakers.

“Woah, woah, woah!! Guys, c’mon! Open up! Open the fuck up! Let’s be respectful!” Eddie leaps from the stage platform and the crowd parts like the Red Sea at his presence, “Not cool man, this isn’t what we do here.” Gareth continues to drum on a beat as Eddie’s silhouette looms over you like a dark angel sent from above. His palm outstretched toward your cowering frame and you take it hesitantly; caught off guard by his strength that springs you to your feet.

“Y’alright, sweetheart? You good?” Your chest heaves for air as Eddie leads you back through the crowd and to the front of the stage, his hand clutching yours like there’s no tomorrow, “Stay right here where I can see ya.” One of his chocolate brown eyes wink at you and you feel as if you could levitate.

“Where was I? Oh, yeah! Let’s fucking do this!!” And the song continues to shock and shake the room with every pulse and strum of an instrument. The crowd returning back to how they were moments ago.

Feral.

And Eddie meant what he said. He was looking at you the entire time. Making sure you were okay.

-

“So…” you twirl a strand of your hair around your index finger. It wasn’t intentionally flirtatious, it was something you found great comfort in when you were feeling particularly on edge and Eddie had the scary capability of always putting you there: teetering on possibility of falling from the cliff side, “You really wrote a song for Chrissy?”

The stalky man hums, “Yeah. It was garbage, though. It wasn’t real… in the end.” His gentle eyes harden, “The lesson here is that not everyone deserves a song written about them. I don’t know how all the bigger musicians do it all of the time. So faux. So deluding.” He sips at a can of beer he has held loosely between his fingers, “Thank you for coming tonight. It got a bit rowdy in there.”

A set of traffic lights above your head capsulate you and Eddie in a ghoulish green haze, sharpening your features and turning Eddie’s chocolate eyes to look more like deep and black bullet holes. No light was reflected in them. They gaped and swallowed every speck.

“You have such raw talent, Ed’s. It would silly of me to not come and see you play.” You offer him a toothy grin, “Besides, when you make it to be big and famous I can say ‘Hey, I know that guy!’ And everyone will swoon and ask me for stories about you.” Your comic words cause Eddie to laugh and shake his head.

“You won’t have to tell people that you know me, Hon. I’ll be there in the flesh to solidify your fairytales.” The way Eddie spoke enchanted you. It didn’t matter what he was saying— he had this magical enticing lull to his voice that sent you into a trance of total calmness. You were incredibly smitten by him.

The pizza place across the street engulfs your nostrils with the perfume of freshly baked bread and burnt cheese. The lights on the building flicker in your peripheral and you watch as people pumped full of toxins waddle and sway their way over to it from The Hideout. Drunk and in desperate need of some grease and salt.

“You saved me tonight, Y’know? If it weren’t for you I think I would’ve been crushed to death in there.” The chilly night air around you stills, “Truly. You are my knight in shining leather, Eddie Munson.” You pinch at the sleeve of his leather jacket with a giggle and Eddie crushes his beer can with a soft smile and tosses it into a nearby trash bin.

“You’re welcome, M’lady,” He bows down in front of you, almost curtsying, “It was a treacherous journey indeed and an act of cowardly courage but it ensured your safety. So, it was a risk worth pursuing.”

He was such a nerd and his dorkiness made you laugh a little too abruptly. But it was something you loved so much about him. His ability to stay creative and to stay in touch with his inner child. His vulnerability and his strength. You admired it. You were enamoured by him.

“How are you getting home tonight? Do you have a ride?”

You shake your head, “Oh, no. I was probably going to walk and take in the night air. It’s not too late.” You give a tiny shrug of your shoulders and Eddie eyes you knowingly, his head tilted to the side.

“I can drive you. If you want?” His ringed fingers plunge into the pockets of his coat and you chew your lip in thought.

Of course you wanted him to take you home. But it was best for you to remain two steps away from him. For the safety of your own heart.

“You’ve been drinking tonight… I don’t think it would be wise for us to climb into a piece of heavy machinery together.” Eddie’s eyes flicker from you to over his right shoulder as he peeks at his van that is parked across the street a few paces away. A small yellow ticket adorns his windshield and he curses under his breath at the sight of it.

Eddie’s head bounces in the form of a nod, “You’re right. Safer that way,” He palms the back of his neck in a wringing motion, “I’ll see you soon then? Maybe you can call me when you get home… to let me know you’re okay. Obviously.”

A side of Eddie you had never seen before was beginning to unveil itself to you and you were sceptical of if it were a good thing or bad thing. He was being overly cautious and protective of you and your whereabouts. He was showing you such care and consideration. Was he using you as a rebound? Or did he genuinely worry for you?

“Yeah. Maybe.” You bite back the acid ridden annoyance in your tone, trying your best not to jump to any conclusions about Eddie’s intentions with you. But with the way he was looking at you, how were you supposed to truly know?

“I’ll wait by the phone.” He smiles so sweetly it could cause your teeth to decay— but that paranoid part of you wouldn’t allow you to enjoy this moment. The bruised pieces of your heart were telling you to run far far away. And to never look back.

“Goodnight, Eddie.” Your voice was rushed and monotonous.

“Call me, Ed’s—“

Your back is turned swifter than the gust of wind whipping at your face and hair and Eddie watches you, helplessly, as you disappear into the thick of the night with a slightly dampened heart and a small frown on his face.

-

‘Love is friendship that has caught fire.’

Ann Landers

“Hello?” Eddie’s voice sounds through the phone receiver, groggy and hoarse. Your heart does somersaults in your chest and excitement finds itself burying between your thighs.

“Did you wait by the phone?” You reply, slightly embarrassed and meek. It was now 1:30am and the night was beginning to spill into the morning. You were becoming delirious with lack of sleep and it was bleeding through every word you spoke.

“It’s you,” He chirps much more perkily now, “Did you get home alright?” You can hear a shift of fabric on the other end of the line, like a duvet cover rustling and you can only assume that Eddie was repositioning himself in bed.

“Yeah, that’s why I called, actually. I wanted to let you know I was okay. I didn’t want you to worry…” You don’t quite understand why you said it, but you did. Over the past couple of weeks Eddie had hinted at caring for you. He had given you more attention than ever before and so naturally… you thought he really did care. And that he might actually be worried about you making it home in one piece.

“Thanks.” The line goes quiet for a quick beat and it gives your paranoia every just cause to bubble to the surface.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” You finish your sentence with an unintentional gulp as your mouth longs for hydration.

“I was only dozing off a little, don’t worry about it. I’m glad you called, sweetheart.” There’s that nickname again. The one you have come to adore. You can hear his sleepy smile through the phone, “You are probably the only person who has ever called me this late,” His quiet laugh is fatigued and careful as to not alarm his uncle who is destined to be sleeping close by, “Did you enjoy the concert tonight?”

You hum, “I did.”

Eddie hums a tune back, like a bird singing you to sleep, “And what was your favourite song?”

You are quiet for a moment, reminiscent and concentrated.

“I would have to say the one about the rose. I hadn’t heard it before,” You grin to yourself, “Can you sing it for me?”

There is a shocked waver to Eddie’s deep voice, “What— like, right now?” You can sense his jitters through the telephone.

“Only the chorus…” Although he can’t see your face, you pout out your bottom lip pleadingly, “Please?”

There is another shift of movement on the other end of the line and Eddie clears his throat, full of hesitance, “Alright.” His voice is clipped, “Just remember that this debuted today so it is basically still a work in progress…”

You couldn’t exactly pinpoint his emotion, but you could tell that he was experiencing some sort of shyness and there was a slight withdrawal. He was no longer as confident as he was talking to you moments ago.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, I was only joking around—“

“No no, I want to. I’m glad you liked it… it means a lot to me, darling.”

Darling. That’s a new one.

Vibrations hit your ears as Eddie skilfully hums the tune to the song, manipulating his voice to lyrically match his beautifully dark words.

“And even if you were nothing but a wilted flower with a shrinking stem, I would still hold you close and preserve you in the worn pages of my blackened heart. The reason that I’m breathing, the love that keeps me reaping… oh.. oh oh,” He pauses for breath, “And you keep on bleeding, Oh… oh oh.”

As his words disperse into deafening silence on the phone you sit completely statue still. Almost too afraid to move. Petrified to disturb the moment. His songs were like poetry and it nearly brought you to a flood of tears.

“That was… wow…” You release a deep breath out through your nostrils, “You should consider recording an acoustic version, Ed’s, because that was… epic.”

“You think so?” He asks with shock laced in his tone and you swear you can see his brown puppy dog eyes looking right at you. But maybe they were just seared into your memory. He was embedded into your soul.

“One hundred percent.” Your fingers shakily toy with the hem of your cotton sleep shorts, the pads of your finger tips tracings the small pink love hearts that have been sewn into the light fabric and you feel a sudden surge of energy. Excitement. Adrenaline. Happiness.

“Thank you, sweetheart. You really are too kind to me.”

Before you can respond Eddie is yawning into the cavity of your ear and you can hear him struggling to keep the expression silent.

“It’s getting late,” Your eyes follow the coiled wire attached to your phone as they search for the clock on your night stand. It now read 1:55am, “I understand if you want to try and hit the hay. Early bird gets the worm, right?”

“We can chat a little longer, if you’d like?” He suggests casually, “I’m usually a night owl anyways, it’s the booze making me a little drowsy but it’s wearing off. Can feel it.”

You bite back a shit-eating smile.

“I’d like that. How about we stay on the line until 2:15am and then we can call it quits?” You come to sit up on your mattress in a cross legged position, your legs comfortably sitting in a basket as you move yourself closer to the phone receiver, “Deal?”

There’s a brief pause.

“Deal.”

-

The blood orange rays slicing through your bedroom curtains awoke you rudely and you rapidly blink away the sunlight, almost blinded by its intensity. The sound of bird wings flapping into fight filled the eerily quiet atmosphere of your room and a loud groan vibrates from your tired throat as you force yourself up into a stretch with your arms extended above your head.

You were optimistic about the day until you caught a glimpse through the glass and saw the rain dancing devilishly against the concrete. It’s was as though the water mocked you. With every hellish dance it thundered against the ground your feelings for Eddie only grew fonder. It grinned evilly in your face with every feeble attempt you made to forget him. A reminder that no matter what you did, he would always be there. He would always possess your soul. Your efforts would always ultimately fail.

By the time you burst into your morning lecture you are soaked to the bone from head to toe. Your hair sticks in drenched ringlets to your shivering goosebump covered skin and the fabric of your clothes cling for dear life to your limbs. No corner of your body was left unseen. Every curve prominent and protruding.

“You’re late.” Professor Hunter snarls distastefully beneath his breath, his Dublin accent bleeding through as you pass by his large dark oak stained desk to a free seat. He smelt of lingering coffee breath and musk; almost like he had smoked a cigarette moments before entering the room and washed it down with an americano. His black hair was pinstriped with grey, patterned like a skunks tail and his face was covered in messy prickly looking stubble. His blue eyes were heavily lidded as they searched your face in annoyance, longing for a poor excuse for your short coming with his square glasses braced on the bridge of his slender nose.

“I’m only 3 minutes late—“

“Still. You showed up late to my lecture.”

“I’m sorry, I—“ He cuts you off, again.

“Don’t let it happen again.”

You bite your tongue, swallowing your backbone alongside every word you wished to say. As you sunk further into the green plush pillow of the velvet seat beneath you and your clothes slowly dried to be somewhat bearable you felt a heat growing on the back of your head and your mind filled with the inkling that someone was looking at you.

Mustering the strength to look back over your shoulder your breath catches in your throat at the two chestnut eyes that are staring right back at you. Eddie is shameless with his gaze and you fumble beneath it. Your cheeks heat to boiling point and your legs twitch toward the auditorium door; prepared to run, if needed.

Eddie’s lips twitch at the corners and you can tell within that very moment that he is biting back a laugh. It triggers something within you, a spontaneous and contagious response that causes your own shoulders to tremble as you try and contain a chuckle. Normally, you would take a scolding from a lecturer seriously but something about the whole situation humoured you in an abnormal way. You were giggling at something totally mediocre and you blamed Munson.

“What’s so funny, doll?” Your urge to erupt into a fit of laughter like a volcanic explosion subsides and dies quickly as your eyes settle on the male next to you.

Shaggy ringlets fall effortlessly to frame his perfectly blush cheeks and intense blue eyes narrow in on your features, making you retract and become comically still. His eyes were fire in water, filled to the brim with raging anger bubbling below their surface— like a tormented ocean battling against jagged rocks.

Billy Hargrove.

Billy fucking Hargrove had parked his denim clad ass right next to you.

You had heard the things about him. The craze surrounding his reputation. You knew what it was like to have his knuckles fracture your jaw— all because someone had told you about it in explicit detail.

You would never forgive Chrissy for explaining to you in intricate analysis what his dick felt like and what it looked like after their hook up before she sunk her claws into Eddie. She always felt the need to boast about those things to you— to make you feel inferior. And it worked a large majority of the time.

Billy smelt soil-rich with a hint of apple blossom and you found yourself fixated on the dark thickness of his eyebrows. So sharp and clean, like a knife, “Fine, don’t tell me.” He rolls his eyes at you and begins to tap the end of his pencil against the arm of his chair, “Better hope you weren’t laughing at me, though, sweetie.”

“No, I wasn’t laughing at you. I would never— why would I?” You wheeze nervously, your arms crossed over your chest as your finger nails dig into the plush flesh of your bicep.

Billy shrugs his massive meaty shoulders, his crystal like hues focusing on the hints of rain that still lingered in your hair and on your clothes, “You must be freezing, sat there in damp clothes. You want this? I’m not gonna wear it.” You stare doe eyed at the denim jacket he holds clutched tightly in his grasp, his fist outstretched toward you.

You eye him cautiously for a moment, waiting to see if he will withdraw his offer and laugh in your face but he doesn’t. In fact, he smiles at you and now you are left to question every piece of information you thought you knew about Billy.

Shakily, your own fingers wrap around the rough fabric as you take the jacket from him. A burgundy settles on your cheeks and you whisper a meek, “Thank you.” Which Billy only nods in response at.

You know it was just an innocent gesture and that there is no way Billy Hargrove would be remotely interested in you like that but still you couldn’t stop the ridiculous dark colour from painting your cheeks maroon as you slid your arms through the sleeves of his coat. A hushed sigh of relief washes over your body as warmth envelops you kindly.

And as Eddie watched from a few rows behind you, like a stranger looking through someone’s window. He knew. In that very moment, Eddie knew. Every whisper that his heart made that he quickly shut down because he was afraid and foolish. Every beaming smile that nearly split his face in half the moment he saw you from across the room. His sweaty palms and his over protective nature around you. It all finally made sense. Puzzle pieces clicking together effortlessly, almost mocking him with their clarity. He had overlooked them for so long. These signs that all pointed in the same direction; to you.

It angered him. His stupidity, immaturity and ignorance raged him in a way he had never felt before. His fury came like an impossible build up of steam which burnt his insides on its way out. And he deserved it. Every scolding piece of black tar that stuck itself to his flesh.

Anger, sadness, pain— so intertwined that perhaps their names ought to be tweaked to reflect the origins of those emotions. To show their raw authenticity and truth.

Eddie had lied to himself. He had led himself a stray. He had pulled the wool over his own two eyes and completely missed the angel that had been in front of him this entire time. Even when he was in a relationship with Chrissy, he felt that something had shifted that day at the movie theatre. Something unchangeable and unshakeable. He just wasn’t sure what it was.

This was the epiphany. His world stood still and everyone else seemed to fade from his vision into total nothingness as he admired you from afar.

But was he too late to tell you? Did you still feel anything for him? Because from where he was standing, it seemed as if you were ready to move on to someone new. Someone better than he is.

The saddest part was that he just wanted to see you happy. To see you smiling genuinely. For your eyes to light up and scrunch at the corners. For you to be as loved as much as you love others. As much as you loved him.

He had to tell you. Even if it would break his heart to hear you say that you didn’t want him anymore. Even if it felt like he was on the brink of death, walking barefoot along the sharp blade of a lengthy sword. He would bleed for you. He would paint himself scarlet in exchange for your love.

-

Thunder clapped the sky and lightning lit the murky clouds momentarily with lavender purple as it zapped through the air. Water was still pelting heavily onto the concrete and you dreaded the idea of having to walk 20 minutes to get back home. Classes had flown by and now you were waiting by the large glass exit, staring aimlessly out at how ferocious Mother Nature could truly be. That’s when a shadowy reflection appeared next to you.

“In need of a chariot ride, M’ lady?” As you turn to look over your shoulder you are met with Eddie’s signature Cheshire Cat smile and your heart does leaps and bounds in your chest, “This time around I am totally 100% sober, so the journey should be a pleasant one. No one’s lives are at risk...” Your mind flicks back to the night of his gig and how uncontrollable your powerful feelings multiplied for him. You were reminded of the sour fact that Eddie would never feel this way about you— he wouldn’t feel as tortured as you did with his close proximity. It was agony. Having him so close and yet so far. Your fingertips just out of reach.

Eddie was gazing at you like you were miles away but in reality you're only a few feet in front of him. His stare is hard, intense, but also melting and blank. As if he were on another planet and you somehow were the one who transported him there.

“I would really appreciate that, Ed’s. But only if you’re sure? My house is pretty out of the way…” You were currently living at home with your parents but you had been searching online for apartments closer to the campus grounds, considering you’ll be attending classes for the next three years of your life. Some of which looked as though they were pulled from your wildest dreams. Warm and whimsical. You just had to save up enough for the deposit and luckily you had started work at a close by diner as a waitress. The hourly rate was shitty but the tips were great; especially from the regulars who liked you.

“I would never leave you to walk home in that storm, love. Besides, it’s been a few days since I’ve seen you so I thought we can hang out for a little bit,” You watch as Eddie’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down nervously, “I’ll let you pick the music?”

An offer he knew that you couldn’t refuse.

“Even Kate Bush?” You always had a cassette tape of hers in your backpack with your walk-man.

A dramatic pause embraces Eddie.

“Yes. Even Kate Bush.” He offers you a tight lipped smile.

And just like that, you were sold.

It was a torrential race to get to the car without getting totally soaked but once you were both inside you burst into a fit of giggles, laboured breaths filling the small space as you watched the water stream down the front windscreen endlessly, “Wow, it really is chucking it down!” You try to smooth out your rain streaked hair and you tuck it behind your ears, shivering at the mere sight of the trees swaying back and forth with the strong wind. The sound of Eddie clipping in his seat belt draws your attention over to him and you ultimately find yourself unable to look anywhere else. You were a crow to Eddie’s shimmer. A moth to his flame. You were a girl who was freezing a moment ago and now it’s as if sunshine has met your skin and you no longer felt a thing.

“Remember your seatbelt.” Boldly, Eddie decides to reach over your frame and click you securely into the plush passenger seat, his fingers running under the belt across your lap as he pulled the strap tightly over your body. Corseting your into place. His touch lingers near you for a moment and you could have sworn you saw Eddie’s eyes flash with something foreign. Something distant and hidden. But whatever it was, he kept it tucked away.

He killed it.

“Are you warm enough? I can crank this bad boy up a notch if you want.” He plays with the AC thermostat, the tip of his tongue darted out to rest on his bottom lip in total concentration as warm air eventually starts blasting toward you and instantly your tense muscles relax.

“That’s lovely, thank you.” It was already beginning to get dark outside and there was something oddly comforting about listening to the rain pour down onto the metal roof of Eddie’s van as you both sat in total silence with one another. In the low light, just basking in the peace of one another’s presence, “I could stay like this forever.” Your thumbs fumble with each other.

“Yeah,” Your eyes meet his, “Me too, sweetheart.” It was strange to think that one singular persons existence could bring you so much fulfilment and happiness. As you looked at Eddie now, your soul smiled along side your mouth. Everything leading up to this simple moment felt right. Prophesied. Etched into ancient stone. Your love for Eddie would die with you. And even from the grave, you would push up roses that would bloom to spell his name.

“Eddie…” You had been here before. Confessing. Pleading. Rationalising. Chasing. You were sure he would listen this time— you were almost certain that he would actually talk to you about your feelings for him. Maybe his opinions of you had changed. Maybe… maybe he felt the same way.

“Yeah?” Masterfully, Eddie hid the hopeful jitter in his voice. And unfortunately, it was just enough for you to back step fully and keep your thoughts to yourself

“You… you remember where I live, right? I can totally give you directions if not. No biggie.” The three words you longed to say burrowed themselves back down into your chest, your heart spluttering and coughing as they forced their way back inside; where they’d remain for the foreseeable future.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s chest also tightened with disappointment and devastation. But he had faith, and he knew that the right moment would come. Even if he had to initiate it.

“Of course I do— sort of… maybe? Okay, you may need to direct me a tiny bit.” His index finger and thumb pinch together momentarily to signify the minuscule amount of direction he may need from you and you smile knowingly at him. Content.

“Shall we see to it?” You gesture toward the road.

“We shall.” Eddie grins cockily as he shifts his rust bucket into gear and speeds off into the road, chuckling at the quick intake of breath he hears come from you as you gasp at a nearby car beeping at Eddie’s abrupt merge into traffic, “Relax, I’m a great driver. Promise. I could do this with my eyes closed—“

“Don’t you dare!” You squeal and Eddie’s nose crinkles as he laughs full heartedly beside you.

“Sweetheart, relax!! I would never endanger you like that…” He winks slyly at you and you shake your head with the hugest smile adoring your face. Adrenaline floods your veins from your near panic attack moments ago and you run your fingertips through your damp and tangled hair; slightly stressed.

That’s when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the winged side mirror and your heart plummets quickly to the pit of your stomach. Your mascara had streaked down your face and your hair was a bird nest upon your head from the wind and rain. Your clothes looked tattered and ruined and you couldn’t believe you hadn’t sorted yourself out sooner. Eddie was right next to you and you looked like a hot bag of dogshit.

“You could’ve told me I had mascara under my eyes,” You try to joke it off with a feeble laugh, wiping your fingers furiously across the delicate skin of your under eyes in an attempt to make yourself look half presentable but you knew that this wasn’t an easy fix, “God, I look a mess.” You gnaw on your bottom lip to contain your sudden urge to cry.

“What? No you don’t, not at all!” Eddie’s thick eyebrows knit together on his forehead, “I thought that was the look you were going for, honest! You were rocking it!” Eddie’s attempt to lighten the mood fails and a newfound panic washes over him, “You are beautiful all the same, hon. Cross my heart.” Eddie’s ears are met with a ringing silence as your eyes fixate on the road ahead and he swears in that moment he can hear your heart shatter.

You recognised the street and you knew that your house was now close by. Just a little further. Any minute now you would be able to feel despair openly and free of judgement; all you had to do was make it home and get far away from the curly haired man next to you.

“Sweetheart?” Eddie’s voice is so soft, like silk being brushed across your skin as he pulls the van into your driveway. It makes you want to vomit.

“I’ll catch you later, Ed’s.” Your words shake as they leave your throat and you dive from the passenger seat at an alarming speed but Eddie is just as quick to follow after you. Hot on your heels with his engine left grumbling in the distance behind him.

“Wait— please stop!” His ringed fingers hook hastily and strongly around your wrist, stilling your movements as he whips you around to meet his towering frame.

You jerk your arm away from his grasp gently but he remains planted, “Please let me go inside, Eddie,” Your tears mix with the tears falling from the clouds above you and Eddie swallows thickly, trying to remain as calm as he possibly could but his raging heart and the frog in his throat was heavily preventing that, “Please—“

“You need to hear this.” Your dripping lips part in total awe as you watch Eddie become restless in front of you— his inner turmoil mirroring the storm beating down onto the pair of you, “I… fuck.. I..” He grapples with himself and you watch him search frantically for the right words. Eddie wanted this to be perfect. But that’s the thing— he wasn’t perfect. And he would never be perfect.

“Fuck it. Fuck it!!” His inky eyes ignite and suddenly he is so close to you that you can feel the heat radiating from his skin, “I’m in love with you. I’m so desperately in love with you.”

“There is no perfect lover. We are all flawed, but knowing those flaws and still loving with all of your heart creates perfect love. I will never look further than you. If my heart is a flower waiting to bloom, your love is the only breath of sunshine it needs.” Both of your hands end up rested in Eddie’s palms as his thumbs stroke over each of your knuckles, “I have been foolish. Completely moronic— because I hadn’t noticed this before. I hadn’t acknowledged my own feelings for you. And you don’t have to say anything… but you should know, love.”

You have gone into complete shock. Your limbs feel as though they are weighed down by chunky chains and your throat doesn’t allow you to speak. But your eyes… your eyes are blown to the size of teacup saucers. Gaping open wide.

“I’ve tried to bury it, to push you out, but even the ground beneath me trembles with your name! I love you… I’ve loved you for a long time, I think, and I understand if you no longer feel the same about me. I have left you waiting— I have starved you of love and I only wish you happiness. I want you to be so fucking happy, baby.”

Baby. He called you baby. And now you are floating above your body like a ghost trapped between heaven and earth.

“Are… are you sure?” You’re crying now and your vision blurs with the salty water. Your mascara stings your eyes and you have to battle the urge to collapse to your knees in front of him. This is all you have ever wanted for the longest time. You have counted down the milliseconds leading up to this. And now it’s here… and you don’t know if Eddie is being sincere or not.

"You don’t get it, do you? Every time I walk away, the ground pulls me back toward you like I’m tethered to this place, to you!" Eddie let’s go of your hands and you feel like your only form of support has left you defenceless. His heavy black leather boots slap against the concrete as he paces in front of you, “‘Am I sure?’ Of course I am! Of course I’m sure, sweetheart. I am drawn to you in a way that can only be described as witch craft. I am under a spell that I never want to awake from. You are the only person I ever want to talk to— the only person I want to be around. You are all that matters to me. I want to know what you do in the mornings and what perfume you like to wear. I ache to know your every thought and what makes you laugh— and what makes you cry.” Eddie is breathless as his body swoops back toward yours and his palms find your face as he cups your cheeks steadily, his eyes dart all over your face, trying to figure out which part of you he want to set his eyes on the most but it's impossible.

“My heart belongs to you. It always has; I was just too blind to see it. And if you never want to see me again I will respect that. But you had to know.” Eddie breaks down into a sob, the thought alone of losing you causes his heart to crumble into dust inside of his chest, “You had to know that I love you.”

Both of your eyelids fall closed and Eddie rests his soaked forehead against yours. His breathing is erratic and your fingertips cling to the denim his overcoat. Grasping on for dear life, “I love you, Eddie. Oh Eddie, My Eddie— you have no idea how long I have prayed for this moment. To hear those words. Those three fucking words.” You let out a noise that can only be described as half a cry and half a laugh and Eddie joins you, “I love you more than words can explain.”

Eddie recoils his face away from yours and for a moment you are frightened as you watch his expression harden into something more serious, “Sweetheart, can I kiss you?”

And as the words emit past his lips, your worry dissolves into total ecstasy.

“Please— kiss me and never stop.”

You had never imagined this is how your first kiss with Eddie would play out. In your drive way and in the pouring rain. It was beyond perfect. Something that you could watch on a movie screen. The old romance you loved to read about—but this time, it was yours.

Yours and Eddie’s.

You never wanted this fever dream to end; and thankfully, it never had to.

-

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000 @ali-r3n @daisy-munson @serenadingtigers @rainybloo28 @munson-enthusiast @godcreatoreli @littlefreckles4 @what-the-jams @tlclick73 @ameliapond1995 @thepurplelovewitch @somethingvicked @costellation-hunter @munsonzgf @emxxblog @ingridvasquez @sadbitchfangirl @im-julessssss @munsonburn3r @unclecrunkle @cierra222 @ziggeddie @yarafae @sidthedollface2 @kellsck @your-nightmaredoll @purplewitchcauldron @manitskatrina @georgeweasleyslostearhq

[landosjpg]

fall back together | ln

the one where your ex-boyfriend invites you to spend a few days with him, but you two still have feelings for each other.

lando norris x fem!reader

word count: ~2.5k

warnings: pining, the tiniest bit of fluff i believe, language, smut, oral (f recieving), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), cockwarming

note: ehhh i don't really know how to feel about this but i wanted to post something, once again not proofread! also i have a looooong flight later this week so pls send in some requests so i can entertain myself during it! <3

you and lando had dated for a little over two years when you decided to call it quits. it wasn't messy; you two had mutually decided to stay as friends. and for the few months that you had been just that, it had worked well so far.

that's why lando had decided to invite you over for the monaco grand prix, insisting that you should spend a few days prior with him so you two could catch up and spend some time together.

as friends, of course.

it took him a few days to convince you, but you finally agreed. and that's why you found yourself walking down the corridor that led to his apartment, suitcase in hand. you could hear his giggles already from the other side of the hall, the sound bringing a smile to your face.

as you opened the door with the keys that he had insisted you should keep after breaking up, for emergencies (even when you lived in a total different country), you heard him talking.

"hey, chat!" you heard him say. you should've guessed he would use his days at home to stream like he used to. "guess who's here!"

you smiled as you walked to the room he was in. the fans had always loved you; you saw the edits they made of your relationship, how everyone used to lose their minds over the way you two looked at each other when you decided to make an appearance on one of his streams.

utterly in love.

and of course, you saw how everyone couldn't believe it when he had announced the end of your relationship.

it's not like any of you had expected it either, but you knew it was for the best or the relationship would consume one of you. but you were happy you had managed to make a friendship work, not really wanting to lose lando. and of course, his fans were excited to see you again.

he turned his chair around as you entered the room, his smile widening as soon as he saw you. you walked his way, happily waving at the camera. normally, he would grab your waist and pull you into his lap.

but this time he didn't.

so you stood there, right next to his chair. and as much as you knew that was how things were, it didn't fell completely right to you.

"i think i'm gonna head to bed," you interrupted after a few minutes in which you talked with him and with the viewers, answering a few questions just like you used to do before everything went down.

but after a long flight and a taxi ride to his house, you felt exhausted and all you wanted was to lie down and call it a day.

lando reached to mute his mic before he could answer you, turning to look at your face as he spoke.

"take my bed, i'll sleep in the spare room," he said. you were certain that the fans would try to decipher what you were saying later, but you didn't really care.

you thought about what he was proposing. it would feel weird, sleeping in his bed without him, so you weren't really convinced about it. and he must had seen it in your face, because before you could say anything, he added:

"come on, y/n". you're tired and the spare bed isn't even made," he looked at you with soft, pleading eyes.

you knew he still wanted the best for you, so you sighed in defeat and accepted his offer with a nod of your head.

after saying goodbye to the chat, you left the room to get ready for bed. as you went through your daily night routine in the bathroom, you noticed how everything you had left there behore the break-up was still in its place.

it looked like you had never left.

you tried not to think too much about it, there could be multiple reasons why he had decided to keep all your stuff. he definitely had moved on, right? it had been months since you two ended things.

you brushed it off, not really wanting it to get to your head and then walked to his room. everything was just like you remembered. damn, he even kept some pictures of you on his wall.

with your pajamas on, you climbed into his bed and covered your body with the soft sheets, the smell of him quickly washing all over you.

you rolled around with a sigh, the bed feeling way too big now that he wasn't next to you to wrap hismself around you. you were unable to sleep as your mind filled with all the nights spent in that exact same mattress between laughs, kisses and endless conversations.

you missed the feeling of his arms around your waist, the sound of his snores and the warmth of his body enveloping you every night.

with your mind racing with all the memories that wouldn't leave your brain, you realized it had been hours since you got in bed when you checked the time on your phone. the house was completely silent by that moment, so you figured lando was already asleep.

you sighed and got up, wandering to the kitchen silentely to not wake him up, with the intention of making yourself a tea that would hopefully help you sleep.

୨୧

sat on the counter, you contemplated the city lights with a warm mug of tea in your hands. the only light that illuminated the kitchen was te one that came out of your room. lando's room.

you were lost in your own thoughts, so you didn't notice his figure walking towards you.

"is that seat taken?" his voice made you jump a little in surprise, swearing under your breath as you turned to look at him, simply shaking your head in response. "sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he added with a chuckle, sitting on the stool right next to you.

you didn't really know what to say, so silence fell between you two while you just stared at each other. despite of it being dark, you could appreciate his messy curls, the spark on his eyes and the sly smile that beautifully decorated his lips.

"can't slep?" his voice was low and tender as he brokw the silence.

"bed feels too big."

at your answer, he just nodded. he kept quiet for a few seconds, pensive, and you could see that he was wondering wheter what he was about to say was appropriate or not.

"you know, as much as it hurts... i'm happy that you're moving on," he finally broke the silence, his words hitting you like a truck.

"i'm not... what do you mean?" you asked in confussion, but your mind was more focused on the fact that the possibility of you moving on hurt him.

"i've seen the pictures."

despite of the sadness that his whisper hid, you knew he wasn't mad at you. he had always said that he wanted you to be happy, whether it was with or without him.

silly of him to think that anyone else could ever make you as happy as he once did.

"just a friend," you mumbled, knowing that he was talking about the guy in your latest posts. but he was nothing more than a friend to you, not even close. "not really my type," you joked, earning a little smile from his lips.

once again, the silence felt deafening as he didn't give you an answer. your nerves were starting to kick in and so, in an attempt to try and make it feel less awkward between you two, you gazed back to the window.

"do you ever miss me?" he whispered again seconds later, the simple question making you freeze.

the answer was easy: yes, like crazy. but you couldn't just say that.

as he waited for you to reply, you felt his eyes on you, curious about what you would answer. and you swore he could hear your heart racing in your chest.

"sometimes, yeah," you finally decided to give him the truth.

or part of it, because confessing that it hadn't been a day in which he didn't cross your mind at least twice a day made you feel too exposed and vulnerable.

you halted when you felt his hand creeping up your legs slowly, stopping when he reached your thigh.

"i miss you, too," his murmur sent you a shiver down your spine, and he was looking up at you from where he was sitting, with puppy eyes.

you knew damn well what those words meant, and you felt your heart breaking at your own answer.

" i don't think it's a good idea, lan," you murmured, not able to hold his gaze for long.

"i know", he uttered, and you felt him sigh, but his hand stayed in your leg. "i'm sorry."

when you heard his simple apology, you closed yout eyes and tried to keep your tears from falling down your cheeks, but you failed miserably.

you knew he was apologizing for not being his best self during the last weeks of your relationship. at first, you had tried to convince yourself it only was a rough patch, but it was burning you down.

and, when you asked him for some time, he agreed. he knew he hadn't been the best boyfriend to you during that time, and he hated seeing you suffer because of him. so he ultimately decided to set you free.

"i'll never take you for granted again," he whispered, his hands cupping your cheeks and wiping the tears that fell down your face.

you hadn't noticed that he had stoop up from the stool and positioned himself between your legs, but having him so close again made your heart feel warm. and you looked down, knowing that if your eyes met his green orbits you'd throw yourself back right into his arms.

"lan..."

"i swear, y/n," he interrupted you; you could see his eyes were also watery, tears threatening to come out as well, but he held them back as he kept talking. "i know i fucked up, but it won't happen again."

closing your eyes, you sighed. your fingers softly wrapped around his wrist as you kept silently crying.

"please," his whisper made you sob, wanting nothing more than to go back in time and never let go of him. "i promise."

as you took in his words, your hand slid to his neck and he rested his forehead against yours. your breaths were mixing together and you nodded your head slightly, giving him your final answer with that small gesture.

before you could think about it, his lips were on yours. soft, just as you remembered, and you could taste both your tears on his lips. he kissed you slowly, tenderly, as if he didn't want you to slip out of his fingers again.

and you knew he didn't.

"i've missed this," he sighed in between kisses, pulling you a little closer, his arms now wrapped around your waist. "i've missed you, baby."

at the sweet pet name that you never thought you'd be hearing from his lips again, you exhaled with a smile.

"want to join me in bed?" you asked in a whisper, your fingers softly brushing against the skin of his neck. you wanted nothing more than to sleep next to him again, so close that one would think you two were literally attached at the hip.

"you're inviting me to my bed?" he chuckled as his arms went lower on your body, pulling you closer and picking you up from the counter.

"our bed," you corrected him with a giggle of your own.

he planted a soft kiss on your lips and walked you back to his room, wrapped in his arms. he lied you down on the mattress gently, keeping his body over yours. your gazes locked for a few seconds before his lips attacked yours hungrily, the tenderness of the previous interactions now long gone.

your hands roamed all over each other's bodies, clothes soon flying everywhere as both your breaths got heavier.

he started trailing small, wet kisses down your breasts and torso, his hands carefully pulling your underwear down your legs. he spread your open for him and positioned himself between your thighs, looking up at you from the edge of the bed.

you slightly nodded, giving him permission to go on. a long sigh left your lips as soon as you felt his lips pressing a soft kiss on your sensitive bud, and your fingers instinctively got lost in his curls, urging him closer.

"you're so gorgeous, baby," he mumbled, his hot breath against your slick making you moan softly.

you felt his tongue flatten against you and he started licking your cunt as if he was starving. a smug expression plastered on his face when your back arched as his lips found your clit again and he sucked, fingers tugging on his hair.

"fuck, lando..." you stuttered, your legs closing around his head as you felt the knot on your lower stomach about to snap. a small groan escaped his lips, his hands gripping around your thighs, surely leaving small bruises on your smooth skin.

soon, the warmth of his tongue on your pussy felt too overwhelming and your orgasm didn't take long to wash over you, leaving you a moaning mess under his touch.

as you came down from your climax, he got rid of his boxers and hovered over you again, his lips finding yours once more. as you tasted yourself on his tongue, you hummed contently into the kiss, your fingers finding their wait to his curls again.

"you alright, love?" he gently asked, taking a minute to look into your eyes.

"need you inside of me," you panted, your legs hooking at each side of his body as you pulled him closer.

he locked his lips with yours as he teased your folds with his cock, both of you moaning into the other's mouth at the friction. he positioned himself at your entrance and slowly pushed inside of you, letting you adjust to his size.

"so fucking tight for me, baby," his voice sounded breathless as he started thrusting into you without a hurry.

he took it slow, his movements almost lazy but deep.

and god, did it feel good.

you held each other tightly as he kept that slow pace that you two seemed to be enjoying. he reveled in the way your sweet moans filled the room and your nails drew crescent moons on his shoulders, your face contorting in pleasure as he stretched you out deliciously.

feeling your second orgasm starting to build up, your pussy clamped down on him, drawing him even deeper inside of you; which resulted in a low grunt from his lips.

"baby, i'm gonna... fuck..." you whimpered, unable to even form a proper sentence as the pressure in your lower stomach increased again.

"look at me, love," he groaned, and you did as he had asked.

with your gazes locked in each other's, it only took the two of you a few strokes to come undone, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt him cumming inside of you and leaving you weak under his body.

he collapsed on top of you, a little winded as he left a sweet kiss on your lips before moving to lay down on the mattres, pulling you with him.

"i love you," he uttered, his arms wrapped tightly around your body as he kept his cock buried deep inside of you.

"i love you, lan," you mumbled, your face finding the spot between his jaw and his shoulder as you caught your breath, feeling yourself slowly drifting off to sleep with your nose nuzzled on his neck.

[eddiesxangel]

Need You Now | Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Requested by @mmunson86 : Eddie and Reader were best friends who secretly liked each other, but then they went their separate ways after high school and kind of lost contact. one day, Eddie runs into Steve, who still talks to Reader, and after five years he realizes that he should’ve taken his shot and I don’t know maybe he has the urge to call her and instead he just shows up at her doorstep in the pouring rain he’s drenched in water, and he tells her how she feels and hopes that she does and well she does feel the same (Eddie finally asks her to be his girl) & well it gets smutttty 🥹💗 included the song Need you Now by Lady A

Cw: angst, mutual pining, friends to strangers to lovers, fluff, no use of y/n reader is referred to with nicknames (Peach, sweetheart, baby) smut, p in v, dirty talk, one mention of birth control, no use of condoms, creampies? Alchohol.

wc: 7.6k

comments and reblogs are always appreciated and encouraged <3

August 1984.

"So this is it, huh?" Eddie was completely taken aback by the suddenness of it all. He had known deep down that this day would eventually arrive, but it had always felt like a distant threat. Now that it was here, he struggled to come to terms with the fact that you were leaving him. You had always been ambitious, and he was incredibly proud of everything you had accomplished. But the thought of being left behind while you went on to bigger and better things was a tough pill to swallow. Despite his own feelings of loss and sadness, however, Eddie knew that he couldn't stand in the way of your dreams - he would never be the kind of person to hold someone back from reaching their full potential.

"Y-yeah." you sigh with shaky breath.

How could you leave him? The guilt gnawed at you because, even after everything, you never got to tell him how you felt. Now you are standing in the airport, feeling lost. It's too little, too late for confessionals.

Since you can remember, going to school in England has been your dream. You made it a mission and are now attending the University of Cambridge. You got in on a scholarship and scrapped up every penny working at Family Video for your four years of high school.

"You better write to me and all that shit" he pointed.

This made you giggle. "Of course, I'll even call once in a while. Hopefully, the long-distance charges won't be too lethal." You play with the chain hanging from your neck. You never took it off.

"Oh! I almost forgot... here!." Eddie rummaged around his pockets and pulled out a small wrapped gift. "Uh, open it when you get there, okay?"

"Teddy, you didn-"

"I wanted to. Please? Just take it." Eddie’s heart fluttered at your name of endearment.

You reach for the gift, fingers brushing, and you swear you feel sparks fly. You instantly jump into him, arms wrapping around his neck, taking in his feel, scent, and touch. Fuck this hurts more than you thought it would. But you kept telling yourself it wouldn't be forever, only four years; you could survive that. And you would be home in the summers. It wouldn't be so bad.

Tears threaten to fall as they rim your lashes. "I'll miss you," you sniffle, and your voice cracks.

It breaks Eddie's heart to see you like this. You were his girl, well, not technically, but you had his heart. You had it from the first moment he saw you in ninth-grade science when you were assigned to be his lab partner. From then on, you were as thick as thieves; if only you felt the same way...

"All passengers for flight 739, please make your way to gate 67; you are now boarding." Your heart sinks at the announcement; that was you. No more stalling.

You turn to your parents, giving them another tight hug, then quickly turn to Eddie again. You hug him once more, as tight as you can this time.

"You're squishing me, Peach. Can't. Breath." He jokes, and you look up at him with glossy eyes.

You reach up to your tiptoes, kiss his stubbly cheek and mutter the words he has been waiting to hear for the past four years. "I love you, Eddie."

Eddie was stunned, did he hear you correctly? You don't give him time to answer because you quickly turn without another word, not giving him a chance to speak, and you run. You run to the gate and don't look back.

For most of the flight, your mind was racing. You couldn't help but feel like a coward. Your mind was racing with questions and doubts. What if Eddie misunderstood your words as just platonic love? Or would he understand that you were actually in love with him?

You sat on the plane, staring at the gift box Eddie handed you. It was a small black square box with a red bow. Nothing fancy.

Once you were over international waters, you decided you couldn't wait anymore and opened it up.

As you slowly lift the lid, the tears start to well up in your eyes again. Your heart is pounding as you peer inside the small box and handwritten note and a silver mood ring were nestled inside. You reach in and carefully pick up the note and begin to read.

Dear, Peach

I am going to miss you so much, so here is a small token to remember me by…

Your Teddy.

You sniffle as you pick up the ring and hold it up to the overhead light to get a better look.

You turn it over in your fingers, examining every detail, trying to confirm whether or not this was Eddie's ring. It looks exactly like the one he wore daily, but you can't be sure. You had never seen him without it before? You try to think about if he had it on at the airport.

As you examine the ring, memories of Eddie flood your mind. You remember how he constantly fiddled with it, absentmindedly twisting it around his finger. You remember how he told you it was his mother's ring and how much it meant to him. But now, as you hold it in your hand, you can't believe he did this.

You try to slide it onto your fingers, but it's too loose to stay in place. You don't want to give up on the ring, though. It's too precious to lose. Suddenly, a thought strikes you, and you take off your necklace. You carefully latch the ring onto the chain, ensuring its security. You can keep it close to your heart as you wear it around your neck...

Now, 1991

"Peach?!” You jump and turn; you were startled when browsing the chips section at the Dollar Store. “Holy shit, it is you!"

"Steve?" You smile brightly and embrace him in a hug when you realize who is speaking to you. Not even twenty-four hours back home, and you’re already bumping into old friends. You had forgotten how small Hawkins really was.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" he asked with a bright smile across his face.

"Brian-you remember my brother Brian? He's getting married, had to come back for the wedding." You smile.

"When did you get back?! Have you seen anyone? Oh god, everyone is going to be thrilled." He hugged you again for good measure to make sure it was really you.

"I got back late last night; I'm still jetlagged, so I haven't seen or reached out to anyone yet... I don't think I have anyone's numbers anymore; it's been so long..." You felt so guilty. Your life in Hawkins was worlds away. You had been so busy once you graduated. You hadn't been home in about four years; visiting you was easier for your folks.

"I'll alert the media; I'll be the town crier! Let everyone know Peach is back!"

"Thanks, Stevie," you giggled.

"How long are you in town for?"

"Ummm, that's the thing; I think I am back for good?" Sure, you loved being overseas, but seven years was so long you missed your life back home, your family, your friends, and your visa was running out.

"This is amazing! Oh, we have to all get together to celebrate!"

"How um- how is everyone?"

"Good! Robin and I are roommates, Nancy and Jonathan are still going strong, Dustin, Mike, Lucas and Will, El and Max are off at their different colleges..."

"What, uh-what about Eddie?" You hadn't mutter his name in years. Things fell off like they did with everyone else. You used to write almost every day, but then school, friends, and boyfriends happened, and eventually, the letters stopped altogether.

The two of you never spoke of the "I love you" statement you made at the airport. You tiptoed around it like it didn't happen. Sometimes, you wished you had stayed to hear what he would have said, and other times, you were glad you ran. You took the hint that he didn't feel the same way when he never said anything back in his letters or the few times you called him.

"Oh, Ed's is great! Yeah, he has his own shop downtown; you know how good he was with fixing cars and all that. He got promoted a few months back when Richards decided to retire..." You smile at the thought of Eddie finally owning up to his potential.

"Oh, well, um, that's amazing! I really missed you guys." You sighed, subconsciously playing with the ring attached to the chain around your neck. You hadn't taken it off in the seven years you had been away.

"Well, I better get going, but I'll call you, ok?"

"Yeah, I'm with my folks for now until I find an apartment, so same number,” you smiled.

When you leave Steve, your mind can't help but race with thoughts of seeing Eddie again. Seven years is a really long time; would he still have his long hair? Would he have a girlfriend? Oh god, what if he has a girlfriend? Of course, he would have a girlfriend. He's Eddie. He is the most flirtatious guy out there; there is no way he would be sitting around waiting for you. Not that he would be waiting for you... he never said those three words back.

It's been less than twenty-four hours since you've been back in Hawkins, and yet your thoughts are consumed by memories of him. The sound of his voice echoes in your mind as if you had heard him yesterday... The way he laughed, the way he walked, and the way he used to look at you. His presence has left an everlasting mark on your psyche, and you can't help but wonder what he's doing right now, whether he's thinking about you too, or if you'll ever see him again.

Your stuff was all over the new apartment. You managed to score a place not too far from everyone, and it only took about a week and a half to find, sign and finalize a place to live.

The living room was filled with countless cardboard boxes, each one crammed with different items from your childhood home and England.

As you rummaged through them, your attention was suddenly grasped by a photo album that had been buried deep inside one of the boxes. It took you by surprise - I had completely forgotten about it. As you held it in your hands, you couldn't help but feel a rush of nostalgia and curiosity, wondering what picture-perfect memories were inside.

You grabbed your drink from the side table and crawled on the messy couch covered in old newspapers and bubble wrap. Pictures of you with the gang, in the Wheelers basement, at lovers lake, in the trailer…

Memories of late nights, early morning school pick ups, dnd creation sessions, forcible study sessions that ended up just you two talking for hours on end, Eddie making you fall for him and him you with neither of you were the wiser.

The phone ringing breaks you out of the trance. You scramble up off the couch the photo album falls off your lap and onto the floor as you scurry over to the phone mounted on the wall.

“Hello?” Nice to know the phone company installed it correctly.

“Hey! It’s Steve, how are you?”

“Good, just settling in; my place is a mess,” you giggle.

“Good, good. We are all getting together on Friday; maybe you can take a break from unpacking? We thought it would be nice to meet at my folk's place, old time's sake.” you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” You hesitated. “Is, um, everyone going to be there?”

"Yep! Folks are out of town; we can use the pool to put advantage. Everyone is so excited you're back" emphasis on everyone.

“That’s great, Steve; I’m happy to be home, glad no one hates me," you chuckle uncomfortably. "I was kinda worried since I fell off the face of the earth...”

“Nah, we could never be mad at you.”

“Okay then! I’ll see you guys Friday,” you smile. Oblivious to the fact that none of your friends knew you were in town…

“So Stevie, what’s got you bouncing off the walls?” Robin asked.

It was Friday, and Steve had everyone already over for an hour before your arrival.

They had no idea you were back because Steve wanted to tell everyone simultaneously. So he invited Nancy, Jonathan, and Eddie so he could share the big news.

“Yea, you’re killing us, man,” Jonathan smirked.

“Okay, okay, okay! Everyone sit down.” Steve instructed. “So I was out running some errands, and you’re never going to guess who I ran into!”

“Vicki?” Robin asked.

“Nooo.”

“Chrissy?”

“Nope.”

“Max?”

“Nope, guess again.”

“Lucas?”

Amidst the incessant guessing, Eddie's mind drifted away to a memory of you. He pictured you walking through the front door with that enchanting smile you always had on your face. The sound of your voice was etched in his mind as if he had heard it only yesterday. His heart yearned for you, how you used to take over his whole world and light up his day with your infectious energy and captivating aura.

Just as Eddie is about to get lost in his thoughts of you, the doorbell snaps him back into reality.

“You uh expecting anymore else man?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah, you uh mind grabbing the door for me?” Steve was up to something, and Eddie could sense it. Maybe Dustin was home early?

“Why? Are you busy or something?”

“Yea, 'bout to get the pool ready..” he winks.

With his suspicions, Eddie tentatively stands and reaches the door. Behind him, in the distance, he hears Nancy, “Oh my god, shut up!” He must have shared the mystery person while he was out of war shot… jackass.

With his heart racing, he took the last few steps towards the door. His curiosity was piqued, and he felt a sense of anticipation building up inside him, wondering who could possibly be waiting on the other side. As he jogged, he could hear his own footsteps echoing in the hallway. Finally, he reached for the doorknob, ready to discover the mystery person on the other side.

You rang the doorbell once again… what had been taking so long?

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, hold your horses-” Eddie swung open the door without any hesitation as he was in the middle of his sentence. However, his words trailed off when he saw you standing on the other side.

“Hey, Teddy” you smiled as your heart pounded. It was pumping so hard he could probably see it beating through your chest.

“Oh my god.” Eddie looked like he had seen a ghost. The blood drained from his face. His eyes are wide with shock. Did Steve not tell him? “Oh my god!” You were suddenly knocked off your feet as Eddie's weight collided with yours.

“Hi,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around him.

"Peach?" It took him a second to process. “Holy shit, you’re here!” He spun you around before putting you down.

“Did Steve not tell you?” As you slowly stepped back, your eyes fixed on his face.

His once baby-smooth skin now bore a few fine lines, a testament to the life he had lived. Life was never kind to Eddie, but he held on to hope. His facial hair added a more mature rugged charm to the baby face you once knew. You couldn't help but admire the beauty that was Eddie Munson.

You also couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off your face and Eddie was so thankful because he had never been witness to something so beautiful.

“No! Oh my god! No, he didn’t tell us anything.” He couldn’t let you go; he needed to feel you to convince himself he wasn’t seeing things. You smelled just as he remembered, but also sweeter.

“She’s back?!” You hear Robin's voice coming from far inside the house. That made you giggle, and Eddie heard angels singing.

The loud sound of footsteps fills your ears, and you see Robin running towards the door. She bulldozes her way past Eddie and engulfs you in a suffocating hug.

“How long are you here?!” She squealed.

“For good!” You smile as you see Nancy and Jonathan run out after Robin.

“What?! You’re back forever?!” Nancy came running out the door

“Yes, forever!” You smile, glancing over at Eddie.

Eddie needed to process everything and stepped back so everyone else could say their long-awaited hellos.

He missed you so badly; of course, he tried to move on, but nothing was the same. Feeling overwhelmed by the avalanche of information he had just received, Eddie needed a moment to gather his thoughts. With a smile, he excused himself from the room and went through the house to the backyard.

The warm afternoon breeze hit his face as he leaned against the deck railing. Taking a deep breath of the fresh air. He reached into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes, and with a flick of his lighter, he lit one up. As he took a long first drag, he closed his eyes and let his mind wander, hoping to find clarity amid the chaos because you were back.

He hadn’t been out there for two minutes, barely making a dent in the cigarette, when he heard the sliding glass door open and close behind him.

“Hey, you okay, man?” It was Steve.

“Yeah, yeah, just in shock, I guess...” He took a long drag of the cigarette and blew the puffs of smoke in the other direction, away from Steve's face.

“She looks good, huh?.” Steve smirked as he also leaned back against the railing next to Eddie.

"Yeah, uh yea really good" He tried releasing his tense shoulders, but it was of no use.

"I didn't see a ring on her finger… but I did see one around her neck… looked familiar too.”

"What?” Eddie’s head snapped up.

“See for yourself.”

You were now in the kitchen, facing him through the window. Clear as day your exposed chest dawned his ring.

What did this mean?

"Looks like now's your chance." Steve clapped his back.

"It's been so long… things are- I don't know, things just won't be the same. Too much time has passed."

"That's why I say seize the day!"

"Don't Carpe Diem me," Eddie scoffed.

"Well, you better because there is no way I’m going to let someone else swoop in and snatch her up because you’re too dumb to say you love her back." In a swift motion, Steve reached out and plucked the cigarette from Eddie's lips, brought it up to his own mouth, took a long drag, and savoured the taste of the smoke. As he exhaled, he brought the cigarette back down and carefully stubbed it in the ashtray, snuffing out every last bit of ember. The two friends sat silently for a moment, lost in their thoughts.

"Don’t fuck this up again,” he smirked before slipping back inside with the others.

Your gaze automatically finds Eddie as you make your way out the door and into the yard, it was a pool party after all. You even bought a new swimsuit for the occasion because you wanted to make an impression on Eddie. He hadn't seen you since you were no more than a few weeks older than eighteen, when you were still awkward and pimply. Now at twenty-five, you’ve come into your body, and you looked fucking good.

You knew that your body had changed considerably since you were a teenager, and you wanted to look your best.

So when you went shopping you settled on a navy blue option with little white anchors, cute without trying too hard, or so you hoped. It accentuated all of your best assets.

Confidently, you let the shawl slip down your shoulders. Eddie felt like you were moving slowly as he watched you bend over to remove your jean shorts.

If Eddie didn't know any better, he'd think you were doing it intentionally. His hands were getting sweaty, and he needed to tighten his grip on the beer bottle so it wouldn't slip. You made him nervous; you were beautiful, elegant, and not to mention sexy, even more so than he remembered.

As you reach out to grab the drink from Robin's hand, you can sense Eddie's intense gaze fixed on you. Robin, who seems oblivious to the brewing tension, turns around and walks towards the pool chairs where Eddie, Steve, Jonathan and Nancy are lounging. You watch as Robin joins the trio, leaving you standing alone, wondering what Eddie's piercing stare could possibly mean. With a deep breath, you take a swig and join your group of friends.

Like a flip of a switch, Eddie's face softens when he sees you coming towards them. He takes in your body the closer you get. As soon as he caught a glimpse of you, his heart began to race uncontrollably. He couldn't believe how stunning you looked, and his eyes were immediately drawn to his ring that adorned your necklace.

You watched as Eddie gazed at you with admiration. It was like he was noticing every detail about you. Memorizing you - the way your hair cascaded over your shoulders, the sparkle in your eyes, the curve of your lips as you smiled. Eddie always knew how to make you feel special, even with just a look.

"Here, you can take mine." Eddie gets up. Alwasy the gentalman.

"No, it's okay. They are big enough we can share." You smile as you lay out your towel to sit at the end of the long white chair.

Conversations about everyone and how they have been lasted about an hour before you decided it was way too hot to not take advantage of the pool. While living in England, you have had to endure the cool and damp weather. It's such a contrast to the hot and humid summers that you grew up with in Hawkins. The scorching heat can sometimes get unbearable, yet a refreshing change from the gloomy weather back in England.

"I'm going in if anyone wants to join me." You set down your sweaty glass and walk over to the pool. Nancy and Robin follow closely behind before you glance back at the boys.

“Hey, come in with us.” You offer with a smile.

You hear a splash from the pool and see the two other girls' heads bobbing up from under the water.

Steve and Jon nod their head while Eddie shakes his no.

“You sure?” You offer once more, raising your brow.

Once again, Eddie shakes his head no before the other two boys grab him by the arms and drag him to the water's edge.

You giggle before taking a graceful dive in to join your girlfriends. The three of you tread water as you watch the boys struggle from land.

"Hey! Come on, I still have my shirt on!" Eddie protested.

"Take it off!" Robin yelled, pulling another giggle from you.

"Oh you think seeing me shirtless is funny, Peach?" He quipped. He was kidding, of course, but you couldn't help to fight off the blood rushing to your cheeks.

Too flustered to reply, you don't say anything; however, the boys save you by throwing Eddie in the pool. You flinch away from the splash of water that gets in your eyes and wait for Eddie to come back up for air. You stare at the spot that he was thrown in, but he doesn't come back up.

"Eddie?" you ask, feeling a bit worried. However, as you are standing in the water, a feeling of terror fear overtakes you as something grabs your waist from below the surface and pulls you backwards. You let out a small scream, but quickly cover your mouth as you feel strong arms wrap around you, holding you close to their chest.

"Teddy, you idiot!" You play scream but also can't hold back your laughter as Eddie pops back up for air, trying to swim off with you in toe.

"What? I'm saving you from sharks." He shrugs like he is doing the most obvious thing in the world.

"God, you haven't changed a bit, have you?" You gaze into his eyes as he pinned you against the pool wall. You can’t help but take in his beauty.

"What is that a bad thing?" He cocks his head.

"N-not at all," Your breath hitches.

For a fleeting moment, you lose the sense of your surroundings. You forget about group's presence that is intently observing your and Eddie's every move. It's as if you are in a bubble, separate from the rest of the world. Your attention is drawn to the black t-shirt that now clings tightly to his wet body, accentuating every contour of his muscles in a way you hadn't noticed before. During your high school days, you remembered him as a lanky teenager.

Now, you noticed he had put on a lot of muscle mass. His chest was broad and well-defined, his biceps looked like they were about to burst out of his shirt, and his forearms were thick and veiny.

You couldn't help but feel a slight tingle through your core as the thought of running your hands over his muscular chest crossed your mind…

"I like what you did with the ring." He flicked your necklace with his index finger, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"Oh yeah, I, uh, it didn't fit, so... Had to keep it safe, you know." You chuckled awkwardly. "Never took it off."

"Never?" He was shocked.

"Never," You whispered back.

"Your boyfriend okay with having another man's ring around your neck, Sweetheart?"

"I-I-uh- no, no boyfriend." God, why was it like you had forgotten how to speak.

"Noted." You can't help but want to kiss the stupid gin off of his face.

You reminisced about the countless hours you had spent lost in your own thoughts, daydreaming about kissing his lips. Maybe, just maybe, a new beginning would allow Eddie to finally see you in the same light that you had always seen him. Little did you know Eddie also daydreamed about your lips. Especially the memory of watching you say those three words in the airport. It plagued his dreams day and night. He should have said them back, but he was too shocked to react, and before he knew what was happening, you were boarding the airplane to take you far far away from him.

"Okay, love birds, enough of this. We are playing macro polo!" Robin announced, popping the bubble that was you and Eddie.

You were suddenly embarrassed by your behaviour in front of your other friends. You were there to see everyone, not just Eddie, but you can’t help yourself, you have missed him so badly, sometimes you felt like your chest was in physical pain from how much your longed for him.

He still was the last person you thought about before going to bed many nights. Even the times when you had a boyfriend…That’s why none of your relationships worked, because he was right. You wore another man’s ring on your neck and refused to take it off no matter your relationship status. You were forever his, even if you technically never were, but your heart belongs to him.

The rest of the day was filled with laughter and catching up on old times. You tried your best to divide your attention to everyone but somehow you and Eddie were drawn to one another. He needed to be sitting next to you, to touch you whenever he could. To convince himself that you were in fact real and not going anywhere.

To Eddie you were the one that got away. The endless nights he stayed up thinking about you, the day you left, the days and nights spent, platonically, wishing he had just made a move… but maybe that would have made your move all that harder?

The ring was a spur of the moment decision that he was glad he made. He always caught you looking at it. He loved that you loved it and that you would have a piece of him while you were gone. He knew you would protect it and cherish it because he knew how much you knew it meant to him. It was one of the last things that he had left of his mother, and he felt that it symbolizes how much you meant to him…

Saying goodbye to every wasn’t half as painful as the last time you had to do it because it really wasn’t ‘goodbye’ but ‘see you later’.

Eddie offered to walk you to your car, before you left. He wanted to speak with you alone.

“It was really good seeing you” you lean against the door of your car.

“Yeah it really was… Um, hey… look can we talk?”

“Of course, what’s up?”

“I just need to know, why?”

“You gotta be more specific there Teds” you giggle.

“You tell me you love me then run away to England for almost a decade!.”

“Oh.”

How was it that this conversation was happening now, in Steve’s parents driveway? Things were fine a minute ago back in the house?

“How was I supposed to process that? What was I suppose to do with that information? Tell me Sweetheart because let me tell you it really fucked with my head.”

“Teddy I’m sorry, I was so young and scared but I had to let you know… I couldn’t stand the thought of you not knowing.”

“You didn’t even give me the change to say it back…”

“What?”

“ I said you-”

“I know what you said Eddie but you had plenty of chances! We wrote every week and we phone once a month what about them!”

“I can’t do this again…”

“Wh-what?” Your words betrayed you as your voice wobbled.

“It’s good to see you, but I don’t think I can go through all of this again.” Eddie couldn’t stop the words. He didn’t know why he was saying these things? This was not how this was suppose to go. But he was so mad you left him and he never got closure.

“Go through all of what?”

“You left. You left me here in Hawkins while you went out and became someone! I was held back two years, a fucking super senior as you were out in the world without me.”

“Oh I see. So this is my fault?” Now you were pissed. How dare he pin his mistakes on you.

“Forget it.”

You didn’t know what to do. You and Eddie never fought before? Now he’s a perfect stranger and yelling at you because you had left him. But he knew you were to leave eventually. How could he expect you to not go to your dream school? Why did he give you his ring?

“Well if that is how you feel.” You reach up to unlatch the chain from your neck and let go of the thing that had been attached to you for the past seven years.

Without a word you hand it to Eddie, and get in your car and drove home.

You cried the whole way home. It was a miracle you were able to see through the burning tears that stained your cheeks. Fitting that it should start to thunderstorm the second you get out of the car; at least it will hide your tears from your nosey neighbours.

As you stepped inside your apartment, the weight of the day's events pressed heavily on your mind. You reached for the nearest bottle and poured yourself a glass, savoring its amber color and the warmth it brought to your throat. The first glass went down quickly, followed by another and then another, each one helping to ease the pain of disappointment and frustration.

After a few hours of wallowing in self-pity and letting the alcohol work its magic, you finally gathered the courage to walk over to the phone. You braved the hallow ringing as it seemed to go on forever.

There's a fat chance he will answer, but you had to get this off your chest. You still love him.

"Hey, sorry I missed your call, just leave a message after the" beeeeep

"Hey, yeah, it's me... Peach. Just been thinking about everything tonight…And I don't know,” you sniffle. “I just miss you so much. I thought about you all the time… did you think about me? -shit- I’m a little drunk I uh…just ignore that last part. Give me a call back if you can?"

Shit, this was so stupid... could you sound any more desperate? “Did you think about me?” God, you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. He’s already shot you down twice, but at this point, you would rather be hurt than feel nothing at all. He has found a permanent home within your heart, and the eviction notice has been shredded and burned.

After you hung up the phone, you went straight to bed. You did nothing but toss and turn for two hours. Thinking about Eddie and the words he spoke. You had to do something; you regretted giving him the ring back. Your neck felt bare without it like a part of you was missing.

As the rolling thunderstorm rumbled in the background, you heard a knock on the front door. At first, you were sure it was just the storm playing tricks on your mind. But then, you hear it again - three distinctive knocks that make you freeze in place. You couldn't help but wonder who could be knocking at your door at this hour and in the middle of a storm? Your mind raced with thoughts of potential intruders, lost travellers seeking shelter, or even a neighbour in need of assistance. With a sense of caution, you waited another minute, hoping to hear something that would help me identify the person on the other side of the door.

Again, three more knocks.

You let out a string of curses under your breath as you nervously glance towards the door, wondering who could be knocking at this ungodly hour. The darkness of the night envelopes you completely, with no one else around to offer you any comfort or protection. So you flick on the hallway light for some semblance of comfort.

The howling wind outside only adds to your anxiety as it whips through the trees with a mournful wail. The rain pelts against the ground with a relentless force, creating a deafening crescendo that echoes through the stillness of the night. You feel as though you're trapped in the middle of a horror story or some twisted nightmare.

“Peach, it’s me!” You hear a deep voice coming from the other side of the door as you slowly approach it. You peer through the peephole to double-check, but as soon as you see who is on the other side, you wrench the door open so fast that you almost take it off its hinges.

“Eddie?” You look at him with swollen eyes. "It's one in the morning."

"Quarter after, actually." His heart sank a little when you called him by his actual name.

"Okay?”

"You cheated me out of the chance to say it to your face! That's the least you and I, for that matter, deserved!" Eddie barged his way past you and into your home, not caring that he was leaving a puddle from the relentless downpour. He was drenched from the tips of his hair to the soles of his shoes. "You didn't even let me say it back!"

“You loved me?” The realization of his words sunk in.

“Not loved, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” the disappointment was evident on your face. Eddie could always read you like a book.

“Love, present tense.”

Your heart rate at this point should have been concerning. After all this time?

"and to answer your question, I thought about your every goddamn minute of every goddamn day."

"Please, I didn't mean any of that stuff I said back at Steve's. I don't know what came over me; I'm an idiot, forgive me? I take it all back!"

"You love me?"

"Yes, oh god, yes, I have since the ninth grade and never stopped!" Eddie's heart pounded in his chest as he awaited your reply. Maybe this was stupid? Perhaps he fucked up so badly that it was irreversible. Never did he ever think you would give him the ring back. He knew he fucked up the second you placed it in his hand, but he was too hard-headed to apologize.

When you exited the driveway, he immediately snapped out of his foolishness and started chasing you down the street. No way he was losing you again because of past hurt feelings and pure stupidity on his end. He can't believe he was about to let you walk away from him. Again.

"Please say something?" Eddie pleaded, stepping closer to you.

"I don't know what to say, Eddie? You've been sending me mixed signals all day."

"What is it you need? Space? Time?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"You!"

"Me?"

"I just need you now." With a surge of courage, you stepped forward and closed the distance between you and Eddie.

Heart racing, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his, feeling the cold, wet rain residue and softness of his mouth against yours. It was a moment of pure bliss, leaving you breathless.

After years and years of imagining, dreaming, and picturing, this moment finally came to fruition. Some may say it was a manifestation; others might say it was destiny.

An overwhelming heat bloomed from your core and spread throughout your whole body as Eddie’s strong hands explored your exposed skin. Your burning need to overpower the feeling of the coldness of Eddie’s wet, damp clothing. You had been wearing an oversized shirt and underwear when you opened the door, but that only aided him.

His hands trailed up from your hips and slid under your shirt so he could hold you by your waist. As he tasted you, he pressed his body further into you, pushing you back further down the hall towards the bedroom.

"You have me." He pulled away breathlessly as he took you in. Your once dry white shirt was now damp and translucent, sticking to your body. Eddie couldn't help but groan at the sight of your peaked nipples trying to pierce their way through the thin material blocking you from him.

You could feel the pool of arousal collecting in your panties. Never had you been so turned on in your life than in this moment.

“I have you.” You mumble before taking his lips once again. You let his tongue part your lips as he explored your mouth. You tasted like mint toothpaste and a hint of whiskey.

"Baby, I need you now." He moans.

Baby. A plume of butterflies erupted deep within you at the name. There was no going back now; you and Eddie were destined to be together like it was written in the cosmos.

Despite the tension between you two, somehow, you managed to break apart just enough to lead him to the bedroom. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation as you both stood there, breathing heavily, staring into each other's eyes.

"You're perfect," Eddie whispered as he backed you up onto the bed that stood in the middle of the room.

You willingly fell back onto the soft sheets below as his lips met yours. Needy hands pulled at the fabric that separated you.

Lightning lit up the room as your silhouettes danced on the walls. Eddie, atop your body, melted into your plush bed as you both stripped fully.

“Please, Eddie,” you whined as he was taking too slow; the wet fabric clung to his clammy skin. He needed warming up, but you knew just the cure. “I’ve waited for so long.”

“Me too, Sweetheart.”

Having been confined for what seemed like an eternity, he was finally able to break free from the shackles of his own clothes that had become a wet and cold prison for him.

You are both now fully naked in your room. You take in the sight of the man before you and what a man he is. Drinking in every last detail your eyes could see in the dim light. He had more tattoos than when you had left, and you were right about his body being more filled out than you remembered. And his cock, so beautiful you could almost cry at how perfect it was.

“God you’re beautiful.” Eddie whispers as he did the same thing.

"So are you." You reach up to take his rough cheek in your palm, gently pulling him down towards you. You sigh into the kiss as you feel Eddie’s weight fall on you.

You can’t help but grind your hips up into his throbbing cock. It’s rock hard as it rests on your soft middle.

Eddie reaches between your two connected bodies and finds your wet pussy with his fingers. A feral moan leaves your lips, and his calloused fingers brush against your swollen, sensitive clit.

The lewd sounds of lips smacking and Eddie playing with your wet pussy fills the room with the pounding of the storm in the background.

“Please, Eddie, I can’t wait. I just need you now.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, please I need your cock so bad.” You begged. There was no time for foreplay; you’ve waited long enough for this moment.

Eddie couldn’t believe this was happening to him.

“I don’t-I didn’t- shut I don’t have-”

“I’m on birth control,” you blurt out.

“You sure?”

“Please, Eddie, I need to feel you… to fill me. All of you.” You craned your neck to reach up and kiss the side of his. You marked him, leaving a significant bite mark that would let everyone know he’s taken. He is yours. Always has been.

“Shit, okay,” he moans as your mouth explores his throat. Eddie would do anything you asked of him at this point.

Eddie slowly guides through your folds, collecting your slick on his shaft, and glides into your pussy.

God, you felt amazing, so wet, so warm, so tight. His perfect girl.

“Oh my god,” you arch up into him so you could feel every inch of him.

“You look so pretty like this.” he mewled as he slowly ground his cock into your needy pussy.

“Fuck fuck fuck” Eddie rambled as he hit the hilt. He slowly dragged his cock back and rocked gently back into you like he didn’t want you to break.

You captured his lips on yours once again, muffling your throaty moans.

Eddie was tender; Eddie was sweet. He wanted to make sure you knew he wasn’t just fucking you; he was making love to you.

God, he loved you, even though all those years separated you. He still loved you.

“Eddie, feels so good!” Your mind was captivated by him. Everything in this moment was eternally Eddie.

Eddie’s hips never stopped, they sped up only a little to gain momentum as the sticky heat between you only grew more are more delicious.

“You feel that baby?”

“Oh god, yes.” You hook your ankles around Eddie's back, pulling him in deeper. His cock hit your g spot with each grind and roll of his hips.

His hands find yours, and he laces his fingers between your own, bringing your hands above your head.

“You make me feel so good; oh god, your pussy is taking me so well, fuckin’ made for me.”

“Mmmmhmmmm,” you agree, “made to be with you,” you moan.

“Yea, baby, you think we were made for each other?”

“Yes,” you answered, too fucked out to be self-conscious about what you were saying.

Your orgasm was quickly building and building as Eddie’s hips continued to grind into yours.

“I love you,” you let slip as Eddie continues to make you feel like you’re floating.

You’ve died and reached heaven. You swore nothing could make you feel better. But you were mistaken; Eddie proved you wrong with the next words that were uttered out of his mouth.

"I love you." He sealed his declaration of love with an emotional kiss.

Your head spun with his words. Did he really just say that? Are you really here? The reality of where you are hits you hard as your orgasm rips through you. You were in bed with Eddie, your Eddie. Eddie, who makes you feel safe and loved and important and worshiped.

“Oh my god, oh my god!”

“Shit-fuck” your cunt clamped down on Eddie so tightly as he tried to hold on a little longer, savouring the moment, trying to hold out as long as possible.

“Where do you want it?” He breathlessly asked.

Still making love to you for as long as he could hold off until you told him you loved him again over and over, totally overcome by the serotonin washing your brain, you don’t even know you’re speaking.

“Inside,” you look up into Eddie’s eyes, and he cums immediately. He swore he never heard more beautiful words.

Eddie slowly pumped himself inside of you as he rode out his orgasm, and you kissed every inch of his face.

“I’m never letting you go.” He sighs as he collapses his body weight on top of yours.

“Good, because I’m never going anywhere without you again.” You incase him in a bear hug as your legs and arms wrap around his body one more.

“I love you, Peach.”

“I love you more, Teddy.”

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