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muniimyg · 2 months ago

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♡ 01: baby, i'm a dog

series m.list // taglist

note: welcome to part 1 !!! this fic is def a diff vibe ,, kinda chill and jus sad LOL … tbh if i hate it i’ll jus edit it as a one shot cos #yolo #idc but also…. i fear this jk is a vibe

the cabin's front door slams shut behind jungkook.

his laughter spills into the cold air as he jogs to his car, tossing the keys to taehyung mid-stride.

the hoseok and nam joon had roped him into a last-minute supply run—apparently, they underestimated just how much beer and snacks a group this size could burn through in one night. the crunch of snow under his boots and the slap of wind against his face brought a sharp clarity, a brief reprieve from the weight he'd felt the entire drive up here.

he works nonstop all year… he only gets a few days of vacation. yet, this is how he spends his precious leisure days.

a part of him is still trying to figure out why he even came.

"think fast, shithead!" taehyung called, tossing the keys back.

jungkook catches them effortlessly, smirking as he spins them around his finger.

as he opens his mouth to make a comeback, the sound of tires crunching over ice makes his chest go tight. instantly, he recognizes that it’s yoongi’s girlfriend’s car—but something about the way it’s driven pulls him further into himself.

jungkook is a car guy.

he’s the car guy and knowing cars means knowing the people behind the wheel.

the way they park, the way they brake, even the rhythm of their turns.

and this car?

it parks too carefully, too smoothly.

it’s muscle memory that makes him stand straighter, his heart stumbling over itself. because he knows exactly whose hands are gripping the wheel before he even sees your face.

taking a few steps back, he watches as the suv rolls into the driveway, something heavy settling in his chest.

the sound of the car door opening snaps him out of his daze.

and it all suddenly feels like a fever dream.

with the snow falling slowly and the way his heart skips a beat—you step out and completely stop his world.

you’re bundled in a cream puffer jacket and your cheeks flushed from the cold…

and you smile at him.

like, really smile at him.

and jungkook thinks to himself;

fuck.

you’re still so pretty.

so fucking pretty.

then, his mind blanks.

he doesn’t know how to move, doesn’t even know how to breathe. all he can do is stare.

“jungkook!”

before he can even respond, you’re walking toward him, arms open.

he freezes when you hug him.

it’s not long—just enough to share a little warmth—but it’s enough to knock the air clean out of his lungs.

three years.

it’s been three years since he’s seen you, and now you’re here, wrapping him in a moment that feels too easy for all the time that’s passed.

is... is this easy for you?

because he can't breathe right now.

“i convinced her to come last minute,” yoongi’s girlfriend, mei, says. she’s practically bouncing with excitement. “the weather grounded her flight, and i told her it’d be way better to spend a few days with us than to sit around waiting.”

you pull back from jungkook and smile up at him like it’s nothing.

like he hasn’t been caught in the shockwave of your presence.

like you aren't the love of his life.

“figured it’d be fun,” you say lightly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. you glance around and squeal at the sight of your old friendgroup. “plus, i missed you guys.”

the others swarm in, laughing and throwing their arms around you, saying how long it’s been. jungkook hangs back, struggling to keep up with the reality in front of him. this wasn’t how he thought this trip was going to go.

as jin and yoongi haul your bags toward the cabin, you turn back to jungkook. your shoulder bumps against his as you tilt your head.

“is it okay that i’m here?”

he blinks at you.

“why wouldn’t it be?”

your shrug and look around. “nam joon’s your friend. this is his family cabin… i’m just your—“

“it’s fine,” he interrupts you.

silence.

then, you break it with a question and your signature soft tone.

“did i surprise you?”

jungkook nods stiffly, words caught in his throat.

"good."

... is all you say before you’re gone, following the others into the cabin, leaving him standing in the cold.

it takes a second, but his feet move on their own, trailing after you without a second thought. like a dog, he thinks, tail wagging behind its owner.

his hands clench into fists at his sides as he walks, the cold biting at his skin through his jacket.

you're here.

you're actually here.

they have invited you over and over again to friendgroup trips and you've only attended a handful of times. take note that those specific times were the ones where jungkook had rsvp'd no.

so this...

this?

this is completely beyond him.

you... in the flesh feels like some cruel cosmic joke to him. the kind of joke where the punchline cuts deep and leaves a scar.

three years.

three fucking years of trying not to think about you, of convincing himself he’d moved on.

three years of pretending he didn’t still see you in every corner of his life. he told himself he'd be ready for this moment if it ever came—that he'd have the right words, the right attitude, anything but the mess of disbelief and guilt twisting in his chest right now.

but here you are, running into his arms like none of it matters. like the years apart haven’t clawed at him the way they clearly didn’t claw at you.

he knows he shouldn’t be surprised.

you always were good at carrying things with grace, even when he was busy breaking them—breaking you.

a part of him feels bitter. he wishes you had a mean bone in your body. perhaps, he'd feel better... but you don't and all he's can think about is how good you smell.

“what the fuck," jungkook mutters under his breath, dragging a hand down his face as he steps into the cabin.

the warmth inside doesn’t reach him.

not really.

his heart is still somewhere out there in the cold, stuck in that driveway where you looked at him like nothing’s changed.

like he’s still someone worth smiling at.

as you get settled, jungkook and taehyung excuse themselves again and leave for their little grocery run.

when they come back, an hour later—the plastic grocery bags cutting into his fingers as he kicks the snow off his boots.

laughter drifts from the kitchen, light and easy, mingling with the clatter of pots and pans. the scent of something savory hangs in the air, and for a moment, he lets it lull him, the warmth easing the tension in his shoulders.

“finally,” yoongi groans, swooping in to grab some bags from jungkook. “we thought you guys got lost or something.”

“tae couldn’t decide between doritos and cheetos,” jungkook mutters, rolling his eyes as he shrugs off his coat. “turns out we needed both.”

“damn right we did,” taehyung calls from behind him, slamming the door shut with his foot.

jungkook lets their banter fade into the background, his eyes instinctively drawn toward the kitchen.

you’re there.

standing near the counter, sleeves rolled up as you stir something in a pot. your hair’s pulled back, a few loose strands framing your face. you’re laughing at something yoongi’s girlfriend says, your hands moving gracefully as you gesture, completely at ease.

the view of you is so clear, yet so vivid in his memory.

it makes his heart ache.

it’s like you’ve always been here, laughing, stirring pots, and looking so effortlessly beautiful it makes his chest ache.

like he’s coming home to you again.

“earth to jungkook?” jimin snaps his fingers in front of his face, smirking when jungkook blinks, caught. “you good?”

“yeah.” the word comes out too sharp, and he clears his throat, shrugging past jimin. “just gonna change.”

he doesn’t wait for a response and heads upstairs. the weight in his chest grows heavier with every step, a knot tightening in his stomach. when he reaches his room and pushes the door open, he freezes.

his bags aren’t where he left them.

instead, a collection of white baggage are stacked neatly in the corner. irritation flares, but it’s quickly doused by confusion—and a sinking realization.

“jungkook?” your voice calls softly from behind him, and he turns to see you at the top of the stairs, slightly out of breath.

you’re holding onto the banister, your other hand fiddling with the hem of your sweater. the soft fabric brushes your fingers as you glance at him, your expression tentative.

“the girls—um—mei, bria, and the others—they thought it’d be better if we moved your stuff,” you say, stepping closer. your voice is calm, and measured, but there’s a nervous energy in the way your eyes dart toward his. “i told them it wasn’t necessary, but they figured it’d be easier if... well, you know.”

jungkook leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest.

“so you’re gonna take my room?”

“it was our room for three years.”

“it’s been three years.”

“that’s true,” you hesitate, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “they put your stuff in jimin’s room. but i was just coming up to say, i can totally switch and room with joon’s girlfriend and make joon and jimin room together. i mean, it’d be a good chance to bond—”

“take the room.” his voice cuts through your rambling, low and firm.

your eyes widen slightly.

“are you sure? i really don’t mind—”

“yeah,” he says, shrugging. “the only other option would be to share it with me… so…”

you pause, a laugh bubbling out before you can stop it.

“that’d be crazy, right?”

something flickers across his face, too quick for you to catch. then, he straightens, his expression calm but his words heavy.

“would it be though?”

the question hangs in the air, your laughter fading as his gaze lingers on you. his tone is light, almost teasing, but there’s something beneath it—something you can’t quite name.

you look away, brushing your hand over the doorframe as if needing something to ground you.

“thanks, jungkook,” you say softly, the words carrying a warmth that feels too intimate. “i appreciate it.”

but before you turn, your hand reaches out, ruffling his hair in that way you used to when you thought he was being ridiculous.

his breath catches, and he doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink as your fingertips graze his scalp.

then you’re gone, your footsteps fading as you head back downstairs.

jungkook exhales, his head tipping back against the doorframe as he stares at the ceiling. “fuck,” he mutters under his breath, the weight in his chest now impossibly heavier.

by the time jungkook come down the stairs, the sound of laughter and chatter filling the space he follows behind you, catching the way the group immediately perks up. all eyes turning toward you both, and jin yells out, "look who finally decided to join the party!"

taehyung grins, his voice too cheerful for someone who clearly has something up his sleeve.

“you two are late to the conversation, so you’re being voluntold to go back to town and grab some oil. we forgot to buy oil.”

jungkook freezes mid-step, his brows furrowing.

“the fuck? i just got back. are you serious?”

you turn and see jungkook’s frustration bubbling up already as he turns to bicker with the guys, his voice rising in playful annoyance. “hyung, you couldn't just... check the damn list? are you fucking serious? i don’t want to go back—”

taehyung laughs, “we were too busy enjoying ourselves. you had fun with me! remember? we got both—”

“fuck that,” jungkook huffs. “i’m not going back—”

“you have to—”

“no, i don’t.”

“jungkook, you’re the youngest too—”

“why does that fucking matter?”

the group chuckles, but jungkook’s not laughing.

you watch jungkook’s face twist with irritation, the way his jaw tightens with every word that’s said. he’s always been like this—quick to snap when he feels cornered. it’s like he can’t stand being told what to do.

he can’t.

god, he really hates being pushed around.

you’ve always known that about him. yet, a part of you feels bad for him.

“no. fuck that.” his voice is sharp, a little louder than it needs to be. “i’m not going back—”

the others try to reason with him even more, but his deflection is clear.

it’s always the same with him, especially when he feels like he's being challenged. you can’t help but shake your head a little, a sigh almost escaping your lips as you glance at the group, waiting for the inevitable back-and-forth.

he’s the youngest, of course. always the youngest. always expected to just follow along, to do things because it’s “his turn” or whatever bullshit they’re using this time.

you feel your own resolve settle, the urge to take control bubbling up before you can stop it. without even thinking, you walk over to taehyung, reach over, and grab the the car keys from his hand.

you do it quickly, not even glancing at anyone else, just deciding in that moment that you’ve had enough of the back-and-forth.

“oil. anything else?” you ask, your tone light, almost too casual, as if this is no big deal.

you hear the group chuckle, but you're not listening to them.

you’re watching jungkook now, his surprise registering only for a second before the annoyance flickers back into his eyes.

he doesn’t have a choice now.

he hates this.

jungkook rolls his eyes, but it's too late—he knows it’s happening now. he snatches the keys back from your hand with a heavy sigh. he doesn’t look at you, but the slight dip in his shoulders gives him away.

he’s still annoyed, but it doesn’t matter.

not if it’s about you.

suddenly, he’s putting his boots on and slams the door. then, the sound of his car engine starting fills the silence. everyone turns to you in disbelief.

“huh," you tilt your head. "i guess he's driving.”

the car ride is silent, the engine purring smoothly beneath you.

jungkook’s car is new (to you, at least) and he drives like he’s trying to put as much distance between himself and the group as possible.

his knuckles are tight around the wheel, and every so often, his eyes flicker to you, then back to the road. you can feel the tension building up again, but neither of you says anything.

the store comes up quick, and you both slip inside. jungkook grabs the oil without a word, and as you stand by the aisle, you notice the carton of oat milk in his hand—your favourite brand too.

you blink.

“they didn’t ask for oat milk.”

he doesn’t look at you as he sets the carton into the basket, but there’s a quiet, almost hesitant shift in his posture.

“yeah. i know.”

you want to say something, anything, but you swallow the words.

it’s just oat milk.

back in the car, you both buckle up in silence, and jungkook starts the engine with a soft grumble. the snow outside is heavier now, falling in thick, swirling sheets, the road barely visible.

the car stalls.

jungkook curses under his breath, his hands working over the wheel like he’s already analyzing what’s wrong. you watch him, knowing he’s not going to admit it, but it’s obvious.

“looks like we’re stuck for a bit,” he mutters. “better wait for the snow to calm down.”

you lean back in your seat, the quiet pressing in. there’s nowhere to go but forward now, and it’s strange, this calm in the middle of nowhere with him beside you, neither of you saying much.

the snow pounds against the windshield. jungkook shifts in his seat, tapping his fingers against the wheel as he watches the storm.

as jungkook stares at the snow pounds against the windshield, you stare at him.

you wait for him to say something.

anything.

but jungkook doesn’t meet your eyes.

his gaze is fixed on the road, his hands tight on the steering wheel. you can feel the distance between you two—the years, the hurt, the things that never got said. the things you did say…

“so,” you start, your voice soft, the words almost hesitant. “how are you?”

jungkook scoffs.

“don’t.”

“don’t what?” you ask. “it’s been a while. i only really see what you’re up to via social media. you opened your own shop, right? i’m so proud of you. i know how long you’ve wanted to do that.”

jungkook nods.

“yeah…” his response is immediate, but detached. “yeah, i mean… it was a lot easier when i got the right clientelle. so yeah, still doing that. luxury car mechanic bullshit. it’s... all right. not much to update you about.” his tone is nonchalant, almost like he doesn’t care, but you know it’s a front. it’s always been easier for him to hide behind that mask of indifference.

“i’m sure there’s something—”

“i fix up cars people can’t even pronounce the names of. not a lot of excitement there. just... polishing up things people break, and making money for it.”

“okay,” you nod, your fingers tracing the edge of your seat. “jungkook, it’s me. don’t underplay this with me.”

he shrugs.

for the first time in three years; you feel it again.

you feel this… sense of anger? annoyance?

hurt.

jungkook is well known in the city.

he's the go-to mechanic for luxury cars—bentleys, ferraris, lambos—if you've got money and a car that needs fixing, you go to him… and while we’re here; let’s brag about it.

jungkook is not just any mechanic; he's the top of the game. he’s the most trusted in the industry, and somehow, he's built a reputation that makes even the richest clients feel like they’re getting something special.

most of them don't know it, but jungkook is lucky—unbelievably lucky.

he didn’t come from money, didn’t grow up with connections or a silver spoon in his mouth. hell, he's still the kind of guy who wears sweat pants and a hoodie to work… but he's got an uncanny knack for fixing cars, his hands working like magic around every engine and every screw. it's a skill that came naturally to him, no effort needed—he was born with it.

and that, somehow, has carried him through life.

the thing is, jungkook knows he's a loser.

a lovable one, sure, but a loser nonetheless.

he might be great with cars, but he's not the type to flaunt his success. his garage is both chaotic and high-end, a mix of organized chaos and state-of-the-art equipment, the kind of place that looks like it’s one bad day away from falling apart, but in reality, it's the most trusted name in the city.

he's rough around the edges, but that's part of his charm. he's got the grit to keep going when things get tough, but he stumbles through life in a way that makes everyone around him laugh—except when it comes to cars.

then, he's all business.

the fact that he's self-made, that he’s built everything from the ground up, doesn’t even fully sink in for him. he never asks for anything. the success just... happened, like it was meant to.

in the same sense, he’s a scumbag.

he’s gotten into trouble before, and he’s made his share of mistakes. but somehow, with the luck he’s got, he always lands on his feet. and that’s why, despite being a mess in every other part of his life, jungkook is the guy you call when your sports car breaks down in the middle of nowhere.

in fact, he’s the guy to be with in the middle of a snowy road.

yet, with all these thoughts… you figure not to push it any further.

the silence stretches again, but this time it’s not quite as awkward. it’s still heavy, though—thick with the things that were never said. and you can feel it, the weight of all that unsaid stuff, but something else creeps in too. a quiet yearning, a reminder of the closeness you once had.

“how’s work for you?”

you clear your throat and chirp up.

“it’s good. great, actually. dior signed me to be their permanent event planner. i got to work with ysl and chanel last year so that was cool… lots of travelling… i don’t know. it’s been… fun. i think i’ve done a lot since...”

“that’s good,” jungkook breathes. “i’m happy for you.”

“really?”

“really.”

you let out a relieved breath.

“you know, i always refer my clients to your shop. truth be told, i found out about your shop through them before you even posted on social media.”

he flicks a glance at you, but it’s fleeting.

“why?” he scoffs, but there’s no real anger behind it, just frustration. “you shouldn’t have…”

you wince slightly, but it’s not a judgment. you get it. you always have. the way he pushes people away, like he’s afraid of being too close to anyone, like caring might break him.

“we were in it together,” you reply, your voice quiet but warm. “life. our careers… everything. just because it didn’t work out between us doesn’t mean i was going to leave it as it was. i couldn’t help it. i thought of you whenever my clients complained about their cars. i thought of you whenever your favourite model drove past me. i thought of you, jungkook. how could i not? we spent three years together… so, don’t do that please. don’t act like the past three years haven’t been good to you… because as much as i could, i tried to send you some good. there was good.”

“okay,” he huffs out a breath, his shoulders tense. he’s quiet for a beat too long, and just when you think he might shut down, he mutters under his breath, his voice barely audible. “i appreciate it. all of it.”

“you’re welcome,” you smile.

then, you turn and watch the snow falling heavier now, the world outside becoming more and more a blur.

“you know,” you say, your voice almost teasing, trying to ease the weight of the moment, “your mom calls me on my birthday every year.”

his eyes flick to you again, almost imperceptibly, but it’s there. a flash of something in his eyes. a crack in the cool mask he’s built up.

“sorry,” he apologizes. “i… shit, ___. you know, you’re her favourite.”

“don’t be,” you smile, though there’s a hint of sadness in it. “she’s my favourite too.”

then, he’s quiet again, but this time, there’s a softening to his expression, the edge of defensiveness slipping away.

you let the silence settle again, the two of you wrapped in the quiet of the car and the storm outside. but this time, it feels different. not easy, not perfect. but it feels like maybe—just maybe—this is the first real conversation you’ve had in years.

and that’s enough for now.

the cabin feels smaller when you get back, and the weight of jungkook’s presence only makes it tighter. the group’s immediately apologizing, teasing him about the oil run, their words sharp but light.

“we totally forgot, man,” taehyung says, looking guilty. “guess you guys are our personal delivery service.”

jungkook doesn’t respond, his face already scrunching into an exaggerated grimace as he heads straight to the kitchen to help. you’re unsure if it’s from irritation or just sheer exhaustion.

maybe both, you think as you follow him.

but the moment passes quickly, and you’re both swept back into the warmth of the group’s energy.

it’s dinner time soon after, and the room is buzzing. the conversation is loud, comfortable, with everyone laughing and sharing stories. jungkook and you sit across from each other, the space between you both thick and quiet. your presence seems to be the only thing that pulls him from his usual nonchalance—every time you speak, even the smallest comment, he cracks a smile, almost like he can’t help it.

yoongi catches it first, raising an eyebrow at jungkook.

“what’s up with you, kid? you only smile when ___ talks. what? the rest of us aren’t funny enough for you?” his voice is teasing but his gaze lingers, as if looking for something more.

jungkook rolls his eyes, brushing it off with a half-hearted scoff.

mei, sitting next to yoongi, shakes her head. she nudges you and you laugh it off. then, you lift your face and meet jungkook’s eyes. he offers you a short-lived smile.

you take it.

the jokes keep coming, but the way jungkook’s eyes flick to you each time you speak doesn’t go unnoticed.

it’s subtle, the way his lips curve just a little, how his eyes soften just a fraction whenever you make a joke or offer your thoughts. but it’s enough. the others catch it, too, exchanging glances behind their drinks, a quiet realization settling between them.

after dinner, everyone migrates to the living room, pulling chairs and sofas closer to the fire. taehyung sets up the drinks, jin and hobi are already messing with the fire, adding logs with unnecessary dramatic flair, and namjoon is flipping through a deck of cards.

“we should play charades,” jimin suggests, his voice light as he pours more wine into his glass.

“charades? yeah, we could use some entertainment,” jin agrees, his gaze drifting between the group. “but i’m not going easy on you guys.”

you end up on the same team as jungkook.

when it’s your turn to act out a word, you both fall into an easy rhythm. your gestures are sharp and exaggerated, and jungkook picks up on your cues instantly, his movements smooth and fluid. there’s an unspoken understanding between the two of you, the way your eyes meet for half a second before you both act out the next part of the clue.

honestly, it’s like no time has passed since you last did this, and everyone else watches with mild surprise, the chemistry between you two almost palpable.

nam joon and taehyung share an amused glance, their eyes widening slightly, while jin snorts quietly.

“okay, okay, we get it. you two are too good at this,” jimin says, shaking his head with a laugh.

“they’re like a team built for charades,” namjoon mutters, and yoongi, always perceptive, smirks.

“it’s like they can read each other’s minds,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you both. “almost makes me uncomfortable.”

you can feel the weight of their glances, the way they subtly watch every interaction, waiting for something to shift. and when the game finally wraps up, everyone is drunk, laughter louder and voices more relaxed.

conversation moves from silly jokes to more serious topics, the kind that happens when the alcohol hits just right. somehow, everyone feels like they’re safe enough to let their guard down.

hoseok mentions work—how it’s been a mess lately, how nothing seems to be going right, and the conversation shifts into the stress of adulthood, of managing expectations and responsibilities.

“sometimes it feels like i’m drowning in it,” hoseok admits, rubbing his temples. “i mean, we’re doing okay, but god, it’s like every time i take a breath, there’s another problem.”

“sounds about right,” taehyung agrees, sipping his drink. “adulting sucks.”

the conversation flows around you, but then someone cracks a joke, and you reply with your usual snark. jungkook chuckles, and it’s a real, honest laugh, something that sounds familiar, something that feels like the version of him you used to know.

bria, who’s been quiet for most of the night, turns her gaze to jungkook, her eyes flicking between him and you with a raised brow. it’s obvious she’s drunk, so jungkook mentally prepares for the worst.

“jungkook?”

“what do you want?” he sighs. “you’re drunk so choose your words carefully, bria. last time we talked while you were drunk like this, i made you cry for an hour.”

bria rolls her eyes at jungkook.

“guess it’s my turn then,” she inhales deeply. “my turn to make you cry.”

jungkook gulps, but he tries his best to mask his fear.

he knows exactly who she’s gonna target.

“yah, do you think you’re slick or something?” bria asks. “why do you always laugh at ___'s jokes but no one else’s? you look at her and practically salivate. are you a dog? do you like her or something?”

the group goes quiet.

it’s then everyone realizes that it’s bria’s first cabin trip. even yoongi, who’s usually too aloof for moments like this, pauses, his gaze sharp as it flicks between you and jungkook. there’s a tension, thick enough to make your chest tighten, and you feel the eyes of the group on you.

it’s like the breath has been knocked out of the room. bria’s words hang between you and jungkook, heavy and unwelcome.

for a second, no one says anything.

you can feel the heat in your cheeks, the way everything seems to slow down.

your mind races.

“we’re exes.”

bria’s voice cuts through the silence again, softer this time. “oh, shit… fuck, right. yeah. i remember now… i guess it never clicked because i’ve only known you for a few months…”

“yeah,” jimin pulls bria close. he gestures towards the direction of their room. she shakes her head, refusing his obvious cue. “babe, let’s get you to bed—”

“no, wait… just w-wait. you and ___? but you two... are literally perfect for each other. what happened?” bria blurts, her tone genuine and almost searching.

you catch the way jungkook’s body tenses up.

from across the group, you chase for his eyes. they meet for the first time all night and you swear—there’s a flicker of something there.

something soft and promising.

something almost like love, but a lot like loss.

as quickly as you see it, it fades away. so, you offer him a soft smile. then, shake your head slightly, the movement almost imperceptible. it’s a signal.

don’t answer.

but he doesn’t look away.

and then, as if the silence is unbearable, jungkook speaks, his voice low but steady, almost like it’s been waiting to come out for too long.

“i fucked up,” jungkook admits. “i fucked up like everyone said i would.”

#bts fic #bts angst #jungkook exboyfriend #jk exes to lovers #jk e2l #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook boyfriend #jungkook second chance #bts fanfic #bts jk

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hairmetal666 · 2 years ago

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Steve has this bar he loves in Chicago. It's a little bit dive-y, a little bit dirty, but it's quiet. A good place for when he needs to clear his head.

Only, tonight, the place is packed. Music pounding from the jukebox, no space at the bar, patrons at the dartboard and pool table. In three years he's never seen it like this.

He has a second to wonder what's going on before he sees exactly who is going on, and for him to catch Steve looking.

"Stevie!" Eddie Munson cries. He leaps from the bar top, the people below scrambling away from the stomp of his big black boots.

He hasn't seen Eddie in years. Can't actually remember the last time. Max and Lucas's wedding? Robin and Nancy's baby shower?

Steve considers booking it out of there, escaping in the crush of the crowd. By the time he has the thought, though, Eddie's already pulling him into a hug.

He's excited to see his friend. He is! Really. He loves Eddie. But that's kind of the problem.

Steve fell in love and Eddie left town.

Well, maybe it wasn't so dramatic as all that. It wasn't until six months after they packed the last box in the back of Eddie's van that Steve could name his feelings for what they were. And by then, Corroded Coffin were building buzz and Eddie had a huge whole life outside of the people he saved the world with.

Over the years, as Eddie's fame grew, he came around less and now they hardly see each other. They still talk from time to time, Steve still buys all the band's records, and Eddie's still close with all the kids, Nancy and Robin too.

Eddie releases him, those big eyes bright, a pure and genuine smile stretching his face. Steve's stomach twists, heart skipping a beat.

"Gotta be honest with you, man. Never expected to see Steve Harrington in a place like this."

Steve snorts. "There's lots of place I go you wouldn't expect."

Eddie's smile wobbles, Steve thinks. It's gone in a blink, though, and Eddie laughs. "I'm sure you do, sweetheart. Have time for a drink with me?"

Eddie navigates to the bar, returns with two beers in hand. He presses his palm to the small of Steve's back, directing him to the single empty table in the corner as far from the jukebox as possible.

"How's life treating you, Stevie?" Eddie asks after a sip. "Nance told me the store is doing really well."

"It's good, yeah. Finally turning a profit. Wasn't sure about Dustin having us add a game section, but he was right. It's really taken off."

"Oh, he told me," Eddie smirks.

Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm sure that he did. He hasn't let me hear the end of it."

"That tone," Eddie says, voice soft.

"What brings you to Chicago?" He asks to hide the way all the fucking love he feels for this man is bleeding out of him.

"Not really supposed to be," he laughs. "Flight got diverted to O'Hare, can't get another one until tomorrow. Have to make it to LA in time to play a show."

They both know Eddie loves it; the rush, the adrenaline, that comes with performing, to making it to shows at the very last minute. It's how they got here in the first place.

"Working on new music?"

Eddie leans back, dimples popping with the pleased lift of his lips. "Oh, Harrington, you don't even know what we have in store." He leans over the table and launches into tales of rehearsals and writing. Steve drinks his beer and can't take his eyes off his friend, Eddie the sun Steve orbits around, helpless to his gravitational pull.

"So, Stevie," Eddie says, once there's no more to tell about music. "You seeing anyone?"

Steve hides his cringe with a chuckle. Picks up his beer to buy time and finds it empty. "Not anyone of note."

"C'mon, how is that possible? You're easily the hottest guy in this place."

He grimaces. "That's a low bar."

"Oooh, still bitchy after all these years." Eddie snickers, takes a swig from his bottle.

"Shut-up."

"Seems like it's been a while since you dated."

"You interrogating my love life now, Munson?"

"No, not at all. Just curious."

"Okay, who are you dating? Still that guy from People?"

"Gossip," Eddie frowns.

"Anyone else you got your eye on?"

"No one new," Eddie says. He stares at Steve hard for a second, like he wants to dig into his brain, like it holds the answer to all life's question.

"There is someone, then." Steve tries to ignore the jealousy licking down his spine. Eddie isn't his and never will be.

Eddie picks at the label on his now empty beer. "Not--not really." He licks his lips, leaning over the table again. "Is there a reason you don't seem to date anymore, man? It's just--you wouldn't hurt for options, right?"

Steve freezes, trying to figure out a way to answer that won't end up breaking his own heart. "Ah, it's--you know, things got busy with opening the store and everything. Stopped being a priority."

"Are you lonely?"

"Are you?" He snaps before he can stop himself. "Sorry, I'm--sorry."

"Yeah, man. I'm lonely as hell." Eddie answers as though Steve didn't give him an out.

"I--you ever have someone where the timing is always wrong?"

"Think it's a hazard of my profession. Who's yours?"

"What?" Steve clunks his bottle too hard against the table.

"The one that got away?"

"It's--it--I--it doesn't matter."

Eddie's smile is all jagged edges. "Nancy?"

"God, no. Nance and I are good with being friends. No lingering feelings there. Who's yours?"

"Ahh," Eddie sits back a little, eyes glittering with an emotion Steve can't place. "The best boy I ever met. Can't get over him, can't forget him. I think they guys are going to start banning my 'pathetic gay yearning songs'. Gareth's words."

Something in Steve's chest crumbles to dust. There's someone. Has always been someone. Of course. Eddie is beautiful and hot and charismatic and fucking famous. And Steve is--just a guy who runs a struggling bookstore with a couple of his best friends.

"That's--I'm sorry it didn't work out." He's trying to stop his voice from breaking, from giving Eddie any hint of what he's feeling, just knows he has to get out. "Listen, man, thanks for the beer. Great to catch up. You should hit up Robin and Nancy the next time you're in town. I gotta get going."

"Wait, Steve--"

"See you around."

He doesn't wait. He pushes through the people, and races out the door, into the crisp Chicago fall air. He squeezes his eyes closed, practices his breathing exercises, tries to relax the clench of his teeth, ease the screaming in his lungs.

Three steps away from the building is as far as he gets before he hears, "Steve, please wait." A hand catches his hip, holding him in place.

"Eddie, I don't--"

"It's you," Eddie says. His face is pale, stricken. "You're the one who got away, Steve."

"What?"

"I've never been able to work up the nerve to confess. I've been trying for years, but. Too afraid of losing you to tell the truth."

"Years?" Steve's brain is trying to wrap around what's happening. That Eddie has feelings for him? That he's the source of the pathetic gay yearning?

"God, since 1986, at least."

Steve doesn't know what to say; what to do. He's been waiting for this moment so long, and his brain goes on pause.

"It's okay if you don't feel the same," Eddie rambles. "Hell, I'd be surprised if you did, but--"

"You're mine too," the words tumble out.

"What?"

"You're the one who got away. For me. You're mine."

"Steve," Eddie breathes. "Is this--are you serious?"

"Pathetic gay yearning and all."

Eddie's laugh is a bright spot in the darkness, relief and happiness mixed with the hope of what's next.

Steve can't help but giggle. "We're so dumb," he says.

Eddie looks at him with a raised eyebrow before bursting into giggles of his own. "So dumb, Steve, oh my god."

"It's been a decade!"

"Fuck," Eddie cackles.

They collapse against each other, chests heaving with their mirth. As they catch their breath, Steve nuzzles against Eddie's neck, relishing the closeness. It's easy for him to change the angle so their lips meet in a kiss frantic with ten years of longing.

"Your place or mine?" Eddie asks once they part.

Steve laughs. "You think I'm that easy, Munson?"

"Oh, Steve," Eddie smirks. "I know it."

"Asshole." Steve presses a kiss to his jaw. "How many songs did you write about me?"

Eddie smiles so hard his dimples pop. "All of them, baby. Every single one."

Steve rests their foreheads together, body fizzing like freshly uncorked champagne, "Take me home, Ed."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #oneshot #angst #friends to lovers #angst with a happy ending #idiots in love #mutual pining #famous eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson #regular guy steve harrington #pathetic gay yearning #fluff #the one that got away #second chances #getting together

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zu-is-here · 2 days ago

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mitten

#zu art #comic #cream day #cross!sans #dream!sans #xunshine #cream ship #undertale #undertale au #kievan rus au? xp #utmv #a gap between them in the hierarchy... a long-awaited moment for the desired touch... their heat in the cold— *dies*#unprotected h*nds happened xd #(they're secret lovers your honor ///)#this was the Winter Story planned for Your Culture Day (back in September) and waited for its second chance ;D #old Russian costumes my beloved <3 #giving Dream his due and drawing him in a male !! costume #мой мозг всякий раз при упоминании Руси: ♪ десять ножей вырезали болезни с белой коры одинокого дерева– ٩( ᐛ )و♪

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talksungchan · 8 months ago

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freedom ain't nothing but missing you ☆ jung sungchan

ᯓ★ WORD COUNT: 13.6k

ᯓ★ PAIRING: riize's jung sungchan x female!reader

ᯓ★ TAGS & WARNINGS: college!au, second chance romance, college antics - partying, drinking, brief mentions of vomiting, reader has mad commitment issues you wanna punch her in the face, pining

ᯓ★ SYNOPSIS: the last time you saw him was when you looked over your shoulder at his weeping figure one last time at the airport. four seasons have passed and your heart tightens at the sight of his smiling face, wishing it was directed at you.

ᯓ★ NOTES: what would a renjunphile fic be without a second chance romance element ! sorry it's my favourite trope i can never let go of it :') all my stories are really the same now ! also me *handshake* using aespa members as side characters lol at the start of story, y/n and hyung line are going into 4th year, sohee and seunghan into 3rd year and anton into 2nd year.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

You hear your best friend's voice before you see her. If you had just looked a little more to the left, you would've spotted her immediately anyway as she waved a large piece of pink card-stock with your name displayed in a glittery explosion.

"Y/N! Over here!" she cooed at you loudly from behind the barrier, "Y/N!!!"

You quickly weave around the other passengers as expertly as you could with your trolley of bags, but Minjeong is quick to meet you at the exit. She drops the sign onto your cluster of suitcases and wraps her arms around your neck, squealing into your ear with glee.

"I missed you too, Jeong," you giggled at her embrace, "I told you that you didn't have to get me!"

She scoffed at you as she pulled away, "What kind of best friend would I be if I didn't welcome you back home after a year away! You said your parents couldn't come and meet you, so I came!"

You think back to your conversation just before you got on the god-awful long flight with her, recalling how your parents thought it was too far for them to drive up from your hometown when they were already coming the week after for your birthday.

"Thanks babe," you thanked her sincerely, bumping your hip against hers while the two of you began to push the cart together. You couldn't believe that you were able to pack your whole life in just two large suitcases and one small one, "By the way, how are we getting back into the city?"

Minjeong didn't drive; she'd rather walk to her destination in the wind, snow, hail or storm than learn how to get behind the wheel. She was a self proclaimed "passenger princess", which you admired and envied from the way your friends (including her) used you like their own personal taxi service when you had your car. Sadly for your friends, you were not hesitant when it came to selling your car at the end of your second year of university, just weeks before you packed up your life and moved to New York for the new school year. While you sometimes missed your slightly beat up Hyundai on the days that you had to get on the subway with arms full of groceries, you couldn't justify the purchase of a car again for your final year of university.

"I assisted the help of a special someone," Minjeong winked at you happily, watching your face contort in horror immediately, "Wait, no. Not that one. I promise."

You let out a sigh of relief that you didn't even know you were holding back as you cramped together in the car park's elevator. There were many people you haven't seen in a year. There were many people you've missed and wished to see. But you didn't think you could face him right now, at this very second.

"Who is it?" you prodded curiously, but she just gave you an innocent smile and pushed the cart out of the elevator and towards a shiny car about 30 steps from the doors

You couldn't make out the figure sat in the driver's seat, no matter how you craned your head until he got out and faced you straight on.

"Chanyoung!" you gasped in surprise, welcoming him in a tight hug, "Since when did you learn how to drive?"

"Just this year, noona. Welcome home!" he chuckled from above you. You wondered if he grew any more since the last time you saw him, cause it definitely felt like it.

Chanyoung was Minjeong's little cousin that began his studies at your university as you were leaving. Despite that, he grew to be a familiar presence as he lived nearby and always dropped by the apartment you shared with his cousin. He was truly one of your favourite people since he was so sweet and caring.

Before you could finish your greetings with Chanyoung, Minjeong had already loaded your (very heavy) bags into the trunk of Chanyoung's new car and had collapsed in the back seat, "Let's go guys. I'm sure Y/N's tired, but you can sit in the front."

Without another word, she dropped her head to the window and began to doze off. You clambered into the front seat and gave Chanyoung a thumbs up to head out.

"How was your first year at university, 'Ton?" you asked.

"Super good, actually. It was really helpful to know all of your friends before I entered so I never felt alone or lost or anything," he recounted the times that you missed, "By the way, thank you for letting me stay in your room. My first year definitely wouldn't be the same if I still lived at home."

You shared a two-bedroom apartment with Minjeong just off campus during your second year at university after meeting her on the first day of first year and becoming fast friends. You had warned her that you probably would have to find a temporary replacement while you were halfway across the world, but when word got out to her little cousin, he begged to take over your room while you were gone. Since he lived in Seoul already, his parents weren't very willing to let him test his luck and go into dorms with a stranger, but they were much more open to letting him live with his older and allegedly more responsible older cousin until he found friends to live with for the next year.

"No worries; I'd rather it was you than a stranger," you shrugged, "Who are you living with again?"

"Sohee and Seunghan," he tapped his finger on the steering wheel to the beat of the song quietly playing on the radio, "You know them, right?"

Your heart squeezed again at the thought of the boys you got to know in the year before you left, "Yeah, a bit. Haven't spoken to them in a long time, though. I hope it's not awkward to see everyone again, otherwise I'll just lock myself in my room until I graduate."

"Everyone misses you, noona," Anton assured you softly, "I know that for sure."

You opened your mouth to say what your heart desired, but closed it again hesitantly as your brain came to the rescue of your emotions. Anton flashed a look at you from the driver's seat, but chose not to comment when he saw the conflicted expression on your face.

"Tell me about your time in New York," his soft voice pulled you gently out of the mess that was unravelling in your head.

You gave him a small, knowing smile and began recounting your favourite memories and your life in the city that never sleeps.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Around 4PM, you waved your parents away as they pulled out from the car park under your apartment complex. They had a pretty long drive back to your hometown with work early the next day, but you were grateful they made the drive up in the morning to celebrate your birthday with you. You had taken them to your previous favourite Italian restaurant for lunch, but after tasting more authentic cuisine in New York in the predominantly Italian neighbourhoods, you weren't sure if the restaurant was as good as you remembered it to be. Still, you enjoyed the lunch and catching up with your parents with what had happened in the last 6 months since they came to visit you abroad. With a hug and a kiss goodbye, they were driving away from you once again.

When you returned back upstairs to your apartment, Minjeong was waiting for you patiently on the couch with her legs and arms crossed and a mischievous smirk on her face.

"What?" you groaned in anticipation.

"I picked out an outfit for you while you were out. It's on the bed. Get ready," she grinned, clapping her hands together, "We have dinner plans. Meet back here in an hour and a half."

"That's really not necessary, Jeong," you pleaded, but she just turned her nose up at you, reiterating her instructions.

To be honest, you had planned to spend the rest of your birthday cuddled up on the couch with your best friend, probably watching a chick-flick or a horror or both. She stomped away to her room and you fearfully tiptoed to yours. Knowing her, she would have picked out something a bit more showy than you would like.

However, you were pleasantly surprised at the dress laid out on your bed, with a note in her handwriting. It wasn't something she picked out of your closet- it was a dress she had bought for you. It was a flowing mini dress with ruffles extending from the skirt and a corset bodice you knew would flatter you. You sent her a grateful text and began to freshen up your hair and makeup from your morning outfit.

From your outfit, you guessed it would be in a sit-down restaurant that was more refined than a bbq restaurant whose smoke would cling to your hair, skin and clothes for days. However, knowing Minjeong, you couldn't put anything past her. After all, she was the one that convinced you to drink soju with her at a stall on the side of a dirt road in your floor length silk dresses after your first year ball. An hour and a half later, you had curled and then re-curled your hair, did your eyeliner twice and marvelled at how the light pink dress your best friend bought you fit you like a glove. When you heard Minjeong calling out your name, you were finishing buckling the heeled Mary Janes that you loved and made sure that everything you could need for the night was in your purse.

In the week you had been back in Seoul, all you had done was unpack your suitcases and make the room feel like yours again. School wasn't starting for another week, so all the friends that you tried to meet up with told you that they were still in their hometowns, due to come a few days before the fall semester began.

"Urgh, I knew it would look amazing on you!" Minjeong analysed you in awe. Trust the fashion design and marketing major to have an eye for these types of things.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" you eyed her suspiciously as she looped her arm around yours and dragged you out of your shared apartment.

"You can find out when we get there," Minjeong tapped on her phone, "The taxi's outside, quick!"

The destination set for the taxi was somewhere you weren't familiar with. The street name definitely didn't ring a bell. Perhaps a new restaurant had opened in that area while you were gone and Minjeong was just trying to catch you up to the city again.

Speaking of the girl beside you, she spent the whole ride with her eyebrows furrowed together as she furiously tapped away on her phone. You wouldn't say that you were a particularly nosy person (lie), but her privacy screen protector made it impossible for you to see who she was texting. It was probably Heeseung anyway- her on-again, off-again boyfriend of four years, but more like two.

"Are you guys fighting again?" you teased.

"Huh?" she looked up at you in confusion and her face flashed with recognition, "Yeah, yeah. It's nothing. Don't worry, but look we're basically here."

Apparently 'here' meant on the street that was lined by endless blocks of high rise flats and a few convenience stores dotted about.

"Did you make me dress up to eat ramen at a GS25?" you prodded your finger in the direction of the store.

Minjeong laughed heartily, "No silly! I made you dress up to eat ramen at a 7/11!" she pointed at the stripy neon sign at the opposite end of the street. She captured your arm in hers once more, tugging to make you walk with her, "Just trust me. It's the hottest place in town."

You don't think that the hottest place in town was Block 7 of this high rise complex, but you say nothing as she buzzed for apartment 08 and caught the lift up to the 4th floor. Minjeong was known to find all the hottest spots in town, so you really try to keep it to yourself as she knocked on the door that looked far too much like an apartment door, including the mail next to the door mat.

She didn't even wait for someone to answer, just pushed down on the handle and nudged for you to enter into the darkness.

"Surprise!"

You clasped a hand over your mouth as light flooded the room and a group of about 20 people screamed at you. From behind you, Minjeong was cheering, pushing you further into what now seemed to be an apartment instead of a restaurant. With 20 pairs of eyes staring at you all at once, it took you a few seconds to shake yourself out of the shock and recognise anyone. The place was decorated with banners and balloons of your favourite colours, with steaming food on the dining table in the corner of the room.

"Happy birthday! Welcome home!" Karina, Yizhuo and Giselle were the first to crush you ina hug.

"We're sorry we declined your plans to hang out," Yizhuo pouted, "We thought we would give away the surprise that Jeong planned if we saw you."

You waved a dismissive hand at your younger friend, "It's okay. This is so sweet of you guys!" You felt Minjeong join the embrace.

"We thought you deserved it since we didn't get to spend your birthday with you last year," Giselle added on as the group pulled away from you.

Last year, you had spent your birthday alone, wandering around New York City for the first time and procuring free birthday goods from all the establishments that offered it.

"Happy birthday, Y/N!" you heard a deeper voice coo at you as you were pulled away from your girls. You were suddenly face to face with one of your closer guy friends from before.

"Eunseok!" you accepted his side hug, "Hi!"

"Welcome home! We all missed you so much," at his words, you dart your eyes around the room and find 5 boys hiding behind Eunseok's tall figure. They each hug you one by one, ending with Chanyoung who gives you the cheekiest grin.

"Welcome to our apartment," he grinned proudly, gesturing at himself, Sohee and Seunghan.

"Where'd you get all this money from, huh? I should've charged you more rent," you teased, eyeing the modern, open-plan space. The floor to ceiling windows on one wall of the room with a view over the river really sold you on the idea that this was an expensive apartment.

"You can throw as many parties as you like here," Shotaro giggled, "We know we're going to!"

"Yeah, whose birthday is it next?" Wonbin pondered.

"Oh! It's-" Eunseok smacked Sohee in the stomach before he could finish his words, laughing nervously.

The 6 boys in front of you watched in despair as your smile fell ever so slightly before you recovered it again.

"I'll go say hi to everyone else," you murmured softly, catching Wonbin's regretful face.

"Y/N, he's-"

"It's okay, Bin," you smiled softly, ignoring the pounding in your heart and head, "I wouldn't have expected him to come. He probably hates me, right?"

You turned around without letting any of the boys say another word, joining your group of friends from your dance club. While your friendship with them was something you treasured deeply, you fell out of touch with them in your year abroad quite quickly. You didn't put much thought into the people that did or didn't keep in contact, considering you were focused on making friends and trying to live in the moment abroad. Besides, you were coming back anyway. What's a year in the grand scheme of things?

Your heart panged at that thought, but you tried to push it away as Jisung tackled you in a tight hug. Ryujin and Yeji had to physically peel the towering kid away from you as you dove into conversation about what you had spent the last year doing.

As the conversation came to an end, your eyes fell on the 6 boys stood around in a circle, whispering hushedly and stealing quick glances at you. When you caught Seunghan's eye, he just chuckled nervously and dismissed you, but the sight of them, incomplete, caused your heart to tense up.

All the most important people in your university life was in this room. All, except one.

"Jeong, I'm just gonna catch some air. Just quickly," you tapped your best friend on the back, just before waving and greeting her potentially current boyfriend Heeseung.

"Oh, I'll come with!" she began to untangle herself from his embrace, but you just clicked your teeth and shook your head.

"No, it's okay. I can go alone; I'll be quick. Just buzz me up when I ring?" you requested. She gave you an unsure look, but settled back into Heeseung's form.

Ignoring the stares on your back, you ran down the two flights of stairs and pushed open the door to outside. Since it was the start of fall and 6pm, the sun was beginning to go down. The sky wasn't yet pink and purple, but instead glowing an ethereal gold, bathing you in light rays. You fiddled with the phone in your hand, grasping it tightly as you debated what to do. His contact was staring up at you, almost taunting you to do something with it. Call it? Message it? Delete it?

Your finger hovered over the phone symbol. Surely he'd want to hear from you, right? The way you ended things wasn't... satisfactory. It gave neither of you closure. You needed to speak to him, right?

Fuck it, you think to yourself. It's your birthday. You can do whatever you like. As you pressed the call button, you shakily lifted the phone up to your ears, counting the rings.

Ring ring, ring ring, ring-

"Y/N?" his voice is familiar, soothing the nerves that plagued you at the thought of him letting your call go unanswered.

"Sungchan," you began hesitantly, "I'm not sure if anyone told you, but I'm uh- I'm back in Seoul."

"Y/N," he repeated, making you aware of the sounds of his feet hitting the pavement through the phone and his laboured, shaky breaths.

"Shit, are you busy? Am I interrupting something?" your stomach folded in on itself as you realised he didn't answer your statement. He was probably at the gym- Minjeong told you he'd taken that up in your absence.

"Y/N," he breathed out again, the patters of his feet coming to a stop, "Look up."

You tore your eyes away from your feet- the only thing that was distracting you from internalising too hard that you were calling your kind-of ex-boyfriend.

As you lifted your eyes up, a tall figure came into view across the street from you. Sungchan was stood panting, one hand holding his phone up to his ear and the other holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Sungchan?" the call dropped as the figure took a step into the street, hastily running over to stop just shy from you.

"I don't hate you," it's the first time you're hearing his voice in one year, "The boys- they said that you said- I wanted to come, but I didn't know if you wanted me here."

He's trying to maintain eye contact, but he's clutching the flowers to his chest as he pants. You were at ease enough to chuckle, "Sungchan, did you run here?"

In this light, his eyes shined and sparkled. You've missed looking into them and getting lost all night in his gaze. You missed the way he would look at you like you were the most precious thing on earth to him.

He flashed you a toothy smile, "Mhm, didn't want to make you wonder. Just wanted to tell you that."

"A text would've sufficed."

He analysed your expression and took one large step back, "Ah, am I reading this wrong? Did you not want me to come?"

You took one step forward, "I'm sorry I didn't call as soon as I got back."

Relief flooded Sungchan's whole body as he stretched his arm to offer the bouquet to you, "It's whatever. Happy birthday, Y/N."

"Thanks, Sungchan," you smiled sincerely, "Do you want to head up now together? I'm kind of hungry and I think there's pizza."

"Yeah, sure!" his face is practically lit up at your invitation, but he hesitated to follow you, "Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"I missed you," he whispered shyly, "Just so you know."

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

You met Sungchan three weeks into your first year of university. Minjeong's boyfriend Heeseung had joined the soccer team in the first week and their first game came around quickly. The two of you were like two peas in a pod, bundled up together in matching scarves bearing your university's colours and logo, shivering on the school's bleachers.

Your friend's eyes were trained on her boyfriend from home, but you had the lucky status of being able to cast your eyes on each player and make your judgement. The game had been going on for about 30 minutes with your school being 2-0 up. Both goals had been scored by the team's #23, a scrawny tall boy whose name you could just about make out from your distance.

"Jung's pretty good," you hummed to your friend.

"#23? His name's Sungchan, I think. Hee says he's really nice. Want me to get you two acquainted?" Minjeong wiggled her eyebrows at you, but you rolled your eyes.

You were determined to find love as naturally as possible at university. Back home, you'd been on a few first days with a few guys set up through your friends, but they were all the same to you- not cute enough, not interesting enough. You hadn't been desperate to get into a relationship, especially knowing that you were going to apply to spend your third year abroad if you kept your grades up. But when Sungchan slid in to the seat beside yours for your shared lecture meeting your GenEd requirements, you had lost all semblance of that.

"Hey, you're Y/N, right?" he had offered his hand out to you, "I'm Sungchan. I've seen you around with Heeseung's girlfriend and I've seen you in this lecture a few times."

You had taken his hand in yours, gripping firmly and giving him a shy smile, "Yeah, that's me. Nice to meet you,"

When he continued to sit beside you for another few weeks, asking you questions in hushed whispers and explaining concepts to you when you looked lost, you said nothing. When he started asking if you wanted to study in the library together in your two hour gap after your shared lecture, you said nothing. When library study-seshes turned into studying at a cafe where he'd buy you a drink, you said nothing. When that turned to just two hours of the two of you chatting and getting to know all about each other's lives with your laptops abandoned on the table, you said nothing.

It then turned into butterflies slowly erupting in your stomach as his face lit up the second he saw you in the theatre. It turned into your heart beating a little faster whenever his hand brushed against yours on the walk to the café you now frequented with him. It turned into finding comfort in him as he slowly began introducing you to his best friends, who would tease you endlessly. It turned into nervous giggles and pink cheeks as you spent the whole fall and winter denying anything was going on with you and Jung Sungchan.

When spring of your freshman year began to roll in, Sungchan had mustered up the courage to take your hand in his whenever your fingers did graze each other on the walks. Whenever you'd look up at him to question it, he'd just smile slyly and look off into the distance, quickly changing the topic before you could address it.

Spring break had you realising how much of a presence he was in your life. Walking through the parks of your hometown felt melancholy without him by your side. Studying at a cafe alone was productive, but you would miss the way that every time you looked up from your screen, he'd already be staring back at you, a soft smile permanently etched on his face.

Cherry blossom season was your favourite time of the year. So when you returned to your campus and found out the main square was lined with these bloomed trees, you had dragged Sungchan there immediately, even if he had just arrived from his hometown.

The joy in your eyes must have been so evident, reflecting back in his eyes as sparkles. When Sungchan had placed his hands on your shoulders to stop you bouncing, and then leaned his head down closer to yours, you didn't stop it. You had long been used to the way he made your heart race. It was a welcome feeling as he softly planted his lips on yours for the first time under the falling petals.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

"Y/N," the sharp voice plucked you from your daydream, a bag making a thud on the wooden table, "What are you thinking about?"

"Huh?" your eyes focused in on Karina taking a seat in front of you at the café, "Nothing, nothing. Did you just have class?"

"My class ended early and I was just walking to my next class in 15, but I saw you through the window looking all sad and aloof," she explained, her eyebrows drawn together in worry, "Are you okay, girl?"

You met Karina with Minjeong at a club in the first week of your freshman year. She had been throwing up in the toilet with the door open and no one holding her hair, so Minjeong did that while you rubbed her back and cooed reassuring words. After confessing that she was getting drunk because she had just broken up with her high school boyfriend, the two of you captured her in your little group.

"It's just weird being back," you admitted.

She pouted at you sadly, "Aw, don't tell me you like your New York friends better than us?"

"No!" you squealed, laughing, "It's not that. I love you guys. It's just weird being back with Sungchan."

Her eyes morphed into a mix between empathy and sympathy, "Aw, babe. I'm sorry; I know it's weird. Whenever I meet my friends back home, I get a weird feeling seeing my ex there too. I imagine it must be worse for you since you ended on better terms than me and Mark did. It must be confusing, huh?"

Out of all your friends, Karina was the best one to be having this conversation with. While you loved Minjeong more than anything in the world, she was famous for breaking up with her boyfriend for random spats, but calling him and asking to get back together the very next moment she missed him. Absolutely no sense of longing in that department.

"I just don't know how I should act around him. Do we just go back to being friends like in first year? Should I pursue him again? Why does it feel like we're strangers to each other?"

During your party, you had thought Sungchan would stay by your side, but he quickly excused himself to join his friends and only gave you reluctant smiles through the night. Where had all the confidence disappeared to?

You saw him one more time in the two weeks after your party at the library. Eunseok had booked a large private study room at the library and texted you to come. Sungchan was already there when you came, his head stuck in a textbook. Other than shooting you a greeting and sliding the box of cookies in your direction, you got nothing else from him in three hours.

"You just need to get the worst of it over and talk to him. He must be just as confused as you are, to be honest," Karina sighed.

"He hasn't found someone else, right?" you asked reluctantly. Even if he had, it would have been your own fault anyway after the way you left him for dust at the airport.

Karina scoffed and rolled her eyes, "The only thing he's found in the past year is the gym. Taro says he's gone crazy. You know- post break-up glow up? He's become quite the heartbreaker, actually. All these girls started to notice him, but he never gives any of them the time of day."

You fight the scowl threatening to display on your face, "Oh, really?"

"Please, Y/N, he was always going to wait for you. I'd never seen a man so down bad and I know Heeseung." she scrunched up her face at the thought. Heeseung was famously untouchable by the girls at university, no matter how much they threw themselves at the football captain. Anyone else would be embarrassed by getting broken up with by their girlfriend every couple of months, but Heeseung always took it with stride and came crawling back with on his hands and knees towards her every time.

"Hm, you're wrong. I don't think anyone can beat that man," the memory of him scoring a hat-trick in the regional final with the words 'Take me back, Minjeong' written on his undershirt that he flashed while he celebrated the last goal cemented his position of number 1 loverboy in your mind.

"Potentially, but Sungchan drove four hours overnight to your hometown when your pet hamster died to comfort you in the summer between first and second year," Karina reminded you, "He charmed your strict parents so hard that by the time the night came, they let him stay in your room with you!"

"He brought expensive melons," you rolled your eyes, "I don't even know where he got those from at 2 in the morning."

"Exactly. Even I wouldn't gift my in-laws that expensive of a fruit no matter how much I wanted to impress them," she countered, "Just talk to Sungchan, I beg. I don't want to watch you go through the whole will they-won't they song and dance of first year again. I gotta go to class, but text him now, yeah?"

You dumbly nodded at her instruction, watching her race out of the cafe and waving goodbye through the large window. Everyone always teased you about how much Sungchan seemed to like you. They never knew that you were equally as smitten.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

You made it to the café before Sungchan. Unfortunately, that just gave you more time to panic and stress over what you were going to say to him after all this time. Your chocolate frappe and his iced americano sat in front of you, slowly melting in the unrelenting sun. You asked to meet at 1 and there was still 5 minutes 'til then, but Sungchan had the habit of being early. That was one thing he passed down to you.

"Y/N," Sungchan gave you a gentle smile as he slid into the seat across you. It was hard to meet his eye, but you held eye contact for as long as you could (not very long) before you tore your eyes away and slid his drink over to him. He thanked you sincerely and took a sip, giving you the chance to speak first.

"Thanks for meeting me, Sungchan," you began nervously, "I know it's been, um, confusing recently- at least for me. I just wanted to catch up and see where we are or get some closure, I guess. I feel like you deserve more of an explanation than what I was able to give you."

In an instant, you're transported back to one week before your flight to New York in the comfort of his bed. You had tearfully explained how hard you thought it was going to be to do long distance even when you had spent a better part of the situationship deluding yourself and each other that it would work out not matter what.

You don't think you could ever forget the look of heartbreak plastered on his face as you spilled your worries to him that night. You don't think you'd ever forgive yourself for making his body shake with sobs, pleading you to think about it again.

That's why it's hard to face him right now- because of all the shame and guilt.

"To be honest, Y/N, you told me before we got involved that you were doing your year abroad and that you didn't think it would be in the best interest of either of us to be in a new relationship by the time you left," Sungchan hummed, swirling his straw in the ice of his drink.

Suddenly, it's a year and a half earlier in your head as you and Sungchan celebrated and 'not really 1 year anniversary' because you two refused to label yourselves as a couple despite functioning identically to one. You remembered the cake, the flowers, the candles that you blew out together.

"I feel like I led you on," you admitted.

"Maybe," he shrugged, "I don't feel that way. You didn't want to get into a relationship, but I kept pursuing you anyway until you fell in- until you liked me," he coughed.

Your demeanour softened as the words slip from his mouth. When Sungchan tried to utter those three words to you at the airport for the first time and you stopped him before you could, you instantly knew you were making a mistake. But by the time you had gotten through security and settled yourself at your gate, you had manipulated yourself to think otherwise.

"Stop being so nice about it, Sungchan. I did you so wrong," you frowned deeply at him, picking at your nails in nerves. Your heart and stomach honestly ached in displeasure every time you thought about what happened.

"We made choices, and I guess we're better people now for it," Sungchan returned a tight-lipped smile, turning his head to stare out of the window and into the street.

When you left, Sungchan was shy and awkward with his limbs flying all over the place and never seeming like he had control over them. His hair fell around his eyes in an adorable cut and it would take him a while to muster up the courage to look anyone in the eye. That wasn't to say he wasn't a friendly and amazing guy- just one that had to warm up to you.

The Sungchan you returned to walked with confidence and seemed like he was now sure of himself. He kept his head up, initiated conversations with people and just moved through life more freely. You can't help but think that you were the one thing holding him back.

You didn't know what to reply with. Were you really better off? You had spent the past year trying to enjoy your life abroad, but grovelling with guilt for the life back home that you left.

Before you can open your mouth, someone beats you to it.

"Channie?"

The affectionate nickname falling from another person's mouth instantly conjures a bitter taste in your mouth. Your heads snap towards the guest standing at the edge of the table, smiling down at the man in front of you.

"Ah, I knew it was you," she beamed brightly, "Haven't had the chance to talk to you- how was your summer?"

Sungchan's eyes flickered to you so quick that you almost didn't catch it. You could tell he was hesitant in his reply, "It was good, Jiyoon. How was yours?"

She clapped her hands a little and nearly let out a squeal, "Awesome! Went to that mountain you recommended climbing! You're playing at the game tomorrow, right?"

Game? Oh, he was still on the soccer team, of course.

"Yeah," his grin was lopsided and awkward as he turned to you, "Um, Jiyoon, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Jiyoon. We met in class last year."

"Nice to meet you," she extended a hand down to you, which you reluctantly shook with a terse smile. You could practically feel the uncertainty and jealousy bubbling in the pits of your stomach as she continued, "Me and Channie were seat mates in our lectures last year! It's such a shame we don't share any this year."

The feeling is so unfamiliar that it makes you uncomfortable seeing the way she grinned and looked at him. He used to look at you like that too- the longing and the pining in the gaze when you wouldn't give into him. It was clear they weren't dating, but it felt like there was something more.

"Nice to meet you too," you clutched your drink tight in your hand as you picked up your bag, "I actually have to run somewhere so why don't you take a seat and catch up? Seems like it's due. Bye Sungchan."

In your rush away from the table, Sungchan caught your wrist again, "Y/N, don't-"

Once again, you'll never forget the face of heartbreak written all over his face as you pulled your wrist away with a sigh, "Thanks for speaking to me, Sungchan. Good luck for tomorrow."

You don't dare look back as the bubbly Jiyoon slid into the chair you were once occupying.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Minjeong has her arms crossed in your doorway with a pointed look directed at you.

"Why aren't you ready?" she squinted her eyes menacingly at your slumbering position on the bed, "We're going to be late! You're lucky I asked Sunghoon to save us two seats."

You pulled the covers over your head, "I'm not going. Leave without me."

The little pitter-patter of her footsteps on your hardwood floors echoes before she ripped the sheets away from you, "And why is that?"

You made grabby-hands at the duvet, but she tossed it behind her. You gave her your best innocent look and produced a cough, "I'm sick?"

Minjeong scoffed loudly and tugged on your arm, "I'm not taking no for an answer, missy. This is your final first game of the season! And we're playing our rival team, so show some school spirit."

"But 'Jeong," you whined in protest as she threw open your wardrobe and began to search for your school merch.

"You don't have to see him if you don't want to," she sighed empathetically, "We'll run away as soon as it's done, but you loved school football games, right?"

It's about the time you realised that Minjeong wasn't going to let up on her insisting, so you slipped on the crop top and jacket with your school's logos and shimmied into the skirt she was making you wear, despite the temperature outside. Arm in arm, but in measured silence, the two of you fast-walked to the football arena that was only 15 minutes from your house. Thankfully the game hadn't yet started when you two clambered into the seats between Sunghoon, Heeseung's friend, and Anton.

"It's nice to see you again, Y/N!" Sunghoon grinned, taking you into a hug, "Did you miss Korea while you were gone?"

"Of course, but it was nice to experience a new culture for a bit," you replied, trying your hardest to keep your eyes off the pitch where the teams were getting into their positions, "How's the skating?"

"I won college nationals this year," he said proudly, to which you clapped and congratulated him. He was truly one of the school's pride and joy, but he didn't want to take it any further than collegiate sport, "Anyway, are you going to the after-party later? It's at the Rho Zeta house."

Minjeong's face planted into your right shoulder, "We are!"

"Jeong! You said we're leaving straight after the game!" you protested, turning your body to face her's.

"Yeah, to the party," she cackled, slapping an arm around her cousin's shoulders, "Tell her, Chanyoung. We're going to the party, right?"

His eyes suddenly turned pleading and you knew you were doomed for, "C'mon, Y/N! It's the first party of the year win or lose so you have to come."

Sunghoon looked at you with expectant eyes too and you honestly believed they were about three seconds away from begging on their knees when you rolled your eyes and dismissed them. Minjeong took this as a win and began to cheer, while also redirecting your attention back to the game in front of you.

When you were dating/not-dating, you used to come to every one of Sungchan's games wearing his jersey rain or shine. That's how you gained the status of being one of the most notorious couples in the grade. You didn't know why, but you were glad to see that no other girl was sporting his name and number on their back from what you could see. They weren't a famous team; they didn't sell jerseys with the players' names in the school store, so you were a little bit relieved to realise Sungchan wasn't giving out his jerseys to girls left, right and centre in your absence.

What was evident though, was the rambunctious screaming every time the ball fell at his feet. He was one of the team's star players along with Heeseung and Lee Minho, so you weren't surprised. However, the cheering had definitely stepped up a notch ever since he checked himself into the gym while you were gone.

The game passed by pretty quickly. Both defences were very good, so there weren't many goals scored. Heeseung had scored two both assisted by Sungchan and the other team had done the same. Though the game ended in a eventful tie, the crowd was still buzzing with pride and school spirit. Through the streets around the arena and the campus, you could hear them chanting some school songs.

"Are we meeting Heeseung there?" you asked Minjeong curiously as you walked together towards Greek row. Sunghoon had disappeared after the win to find some of his friends before the party, meanwhile Chanyoung was whisked away by Seunghan into the crowd

"Yeah, they'll be a while before they get to the house, I think. I know I was heavy persuading you earlier, but you're actually fine with coming to the party, right? You can tell me if not," her eyebrows are stitched together in worry, but you just link arms again and continued walking.

"It'll be nice to go out and do my normal things," you reassured her.

The Rho Zeta house was one that was very familiar to you. It was a house you had spent many a nights in during your second year when Sungchan lived at his frat house. You wondered if he stayed there or moved out with his friends.

There's some rushing freshmen on the door duty and you were let in swiftly when Minjeong uttered your names. Though Heeseung was a member of a different fraternity, the friends and partners of the football team were always invited to the post-game ragers. Making your way down to the basement where most people chose to spend their time, you waved to Eunseok in the kitchen making cocktails.

A fair few spectators had already made it to the party after the game finished, knocking back their third, fourth or fifth beer or beverage of choice already. When Wonbin pressed a shot into your hand and clinked it with the one in his, you had no choice but to chug it down with a grimace. Before you knew it, Eunseok was tipping back a cup of mojito down your throat and you and Minjeong were doing shots of tequila with your arms intertwined.

The Rho Zeta basement was expansive, but very busy. There were people playing beer pong in one corner (Sohee was losing badly to a grinning Anton) meanwhile sober monitor Shotaro was trying to pry the darts out of a drunk Seunghan's grip before he could try to throw them and potentially hurt someone. You swore that they kept those locked away in a cabinet during parties, but Seunghan was always a crafty guy.

Endless bodies swayed in the gaps of the basement to the rhythm of the music- the music being the mixes that Nu Sigma Tau alumni Johnny Suh was producing from his speakers in the far corner. He was truly a man stuck in his college days, but he always provided the best tunes. You had lost track of time early into the night before losing track of Minjeong completely when the football team arrived. You hid behind Johnny's equipment, making small (loud) talk with him about what he had been getting up to. In the corner of your eye, you had spotted Sungchan hovering in the crowds since he was probably a whole head taller than most of the attendees.

"I heard what happened to you and our bambi over there," Johnny uttered nonchalantly as he prodded at some buttons that you could never grasp the use of, "How's that working out?"

"It's the consequences of my own actions," you hummed sadly, "I've never regretted anything more."

"Does he know that?"

You flick your glance to the guy chatting with his best friend Eunseok by the wall, "I think I owe it to him to let him move on. There's so many girls interested in him since I left."

"And clearly he rejected all those girls if he came alone. I'm banishing you from my booth, so go talk to him." Johnny cooed at you before pushing you lightly away and into the crowd with a wave.

After the fiasco that was the café and Jiyoon, you certainly weren't prepared to face Sungchan. What could you even say to him? That you were burning with jealousy that you couldn't help but run away?

Yizhuo and Giselle occupied your time for a little bit on the couches, but once the smell of sweaty party goers began to invade your senses even while getting progressively drunker, you dashed/stumbled up to the second floor living room that was always much more chilled out.

"Y/N!" Soobin cried out excitedly as you entered the large room. He was already reaching over to offer you a beer, which you took. Behind Soobin's tall stature, you don't even notice the people sat in a circle behind him, "We're playing truth or dare."

Soobin was one of your friends you made in a club you joined in your freshman year. You didn't speak to him very much over text, but the two of you always had a good time when seeing each other. He wrapped his large hand around your wrist and dragged you over to sit in the circle. You recognised a few familiar faces as you cast your eyes around, namely Karina and some of Heeseung's friends, but your heart dropped when you saw Sungchan and Jiyoon sat cross-legged next to each other a few spaces to right of Soobin.

Even in your state, you weren't so much of a masochist to stay and watch. Leaning over to Soobin's ear, you whispered, "Shit Bin, I think I'm gonna sit this one out."

"No," he whined like a baby, "I haven't seen you in a year, so stay!"

His protest was so loud that it called the attention of some of your other friends who all drunkenly pouted and pleaded for you to stay. Some guy who you recognised as Sunwoo reached over the space in the middle and spun the bottle. You kept your eyes trained on it as spun around and around, praying it wouldn't land on you. A sigh of relief left your mouth as it fell on Chaerin, who quickly chose dare.

"Text your most recent ex and tell them that you miss them!" Sunwoo giggled through his drink.

As you nursed your own drink, you mirrored Chaerin's grimace and fought all your might to avoid looking at Sungchan. You would be horrified to have received that. Chaerin gingerly pulled out her phone and typed a few words before flashing her screen around the circle as proof. She then grabbed the bottle and spun it harshly.

"Jiwoo, truth or dare?" Chaerin taunted. Your eyes flashed to her figure momentarily as she giggled and chose dare as well.

"Kiss the person you'd most want to date."

You don't think you've ever felt such burning sadness as you watched Jiwoo quickly grab Sungchan's face and bring it down to hers for a quick peck. The grip on your bottle was nearly enough to smash the glass into a million pieces the way your heart was breaking.

It took everything in you not to get up and run away, especially when the alcohol in your bloodstream was making you feel your emotions ten times as strong. You couldn't make it about you- Sungchan didn't deserve that. The rest of the group's eyes had already turned to you after Jiwoo's kiss, considering that you and Sungchan never really kept it much of a secret. Even Karina was making 'are you okay?' eyes at you from across the circle. You simply gave her a subtle nod and a smile as Jiwoo spun the bottle too.

"You and Sungchan aren't back together?" Soobin dropped his face low to your ear.

"Does it look like we are, Soob?" you exhaled, watching Nayoung give Jay a drunk and joking lap dance.

"Shit," he breathed out under his breath, "Sorry I made you stay."

"It's okay. I should move on anyway, right?" you smiled assuringly at him. You don't think you've ever given such a fake smile in your life.

"Y/N," Soobin trailed off, trying to pry the bottle that you were sipping on away from your hands, "Should we go?"

"No, it's fine," you gritted out, pointing at the bottle spinning to direct his attention. Your heart dropped as it landed on you.

"Truth or dare, Y/N?" Jay mumbled.

You weren't going to risk it; Jay was known for giving batshit ideas, so you settled on, "Truth."

"How many people did you sleep with or kiss on your year abroad?" he smirked.

"Zero," you deadpanned instantly, "For both."

Jay pouted at your boring answer, but gestured for you to choose the next person. It landed on Yuri, who chose dare bravely. You were starting to dissociate a little, but managed to murmur some dare about giving her phone to Sunghoon and letting him post whatever on her story.

The game continued a while with you trying to focus as much as possible at burning a hole through the glass of your drink with Soobin asking you if you were okay every couple of minutes. It was hard not to turn your head and steal glances at Sungchan and Jiwoo, whose laugh reverberated through the room, your bones and then into your heart.

You were certain Jiwoo was a nice girl, but where did she come from? All your friends convinced you that Sungchan hadn't entertained anyone despite the newfound attention that you leaving brought to him and even his friends never mentioned anything when they would occasionally talk to you. Surely Jiwoo and Sungchan were close, right? Close enough for them to be recommending each other things to do in the summer and close enough for Jiwoo to quite literally kiss him in front of everyone.

"Sungchan, truth or dare?" an unfamiliar voice caused your head to slowly lift up.

"Dare," it's the first time you've heard his voice the whole game.

"Kiss the person you'd want to date in this room."

A light gasp escaped nearly everyone's lips as you examined the smirking player. You definitely didn't recognise him; maybe he was a freshman. His eyes were darting with a cheeky glint between Sungchan and Jiwoo, assuming that he was setting up a couple by echoing Chaerin's earlier dare for him.

"Taesan, choose a different dare," Karina's voice boomed as she directed laser eyes towards the boy. He instantly frowned.

"Why? It's fun!"

"Choose a different dare," Soobin repeated next to you.

In that moment, you wanted the world to just cave in and swallow you up whole. You didn't think that you could bare to watch your ex-boyfriend- the one who held your heart but the one whose heart you stomped all over- kiss another girl in a confession. Despite that, you were completely paralysed in your spot, cross legged and head having turned to Sungchan's direction.

At the same time that Karina began to get up and say, "Y/N, let's go downstairs,", Sungchan had pushed himself out of his seat under the watchful eyes of Jiwoo.

"Fuck it," he had laughed dryly.

Your vision changed in a moment's notice. Sungchan was staring straight into your eyes bearing the emotions of pleading. Pleading to ask you if what he was about to do was okay.

You think that you probably nodded unconsciously, because in an instant, Sungchan's plump lips found yours again for the first time in a year. They slotted perfectly in between your hesitant mouth, but like a reflex, your brain had finally connected to your body again and started moving against him.

Similar to the earlier gasps from all those who had known about your history together, the whole group had gasped and fell silent as they watched the scene unfold.

The kiss was not gentle at all. He moved against you harshly, desperately and his hands on your cheeks burned your skin, lighting a thousand flames inside you. Sungchan tasted a bit like the beer he was drinking, but also like the cherry lip balm that you had once bought for him and got him addicted to in the past. It caught you so off guard that you fell back onto your hands behind you, causing him to push deeper against you.

You were both panting when he finally pulled away.

"Y/N," he murmured lowly against your lips, "Let's go to my room."

You remembered getting up. You remembered his fingers interlacing between yours. You remembered practically running through the corridors to reach his familiar door at the end. You remembered Sungchan pressing you up against the wall inside his room and connecting his lips to your neck.

Then you don't remember anything after.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

The next time your brain registers you're awake, there's a swirling in your stomach and something rising up your throat. In the lamp-lit glow of the seemingly strange room, you peeled the duvet off your sweating form and made a bee-line straight to the bathroom.

You didn't realise how you even knew there was a bathroom behind the door you had opened until a familiar hand was pulling your hair away from your face and rubbing your back as you emptied out the contents of your guts into the toilet.

"It's okay, baby," he cooed sweetly. The term of endearment flew over your head pretty much immediately, but your heart probably skipped a quick beat.

Tears brimmed at your lashes and threatened to spill as you hurled and hurled. How much had you had to drink?

"Sungchan?" you croaked out in between heaves.

"Yeah, it's me. I'm here," he whispered into the dark, "You're in my room at the frat house."

Binge drinking wasn't a common reoccurrence of your freshman and sophomore days, but when you did, you always threw up in the middle of the night and became disorientated. You never knew where you were and how you got there.

When you finally finished throwing up, Sungchan had already tied your hair back with a tie he found on your wrist and had pulled you up against his body in the bathroom. With the lamp in his room on and the door open, you could make out his sleepy figure and messy hair in the mirror.

"Here, wash your face and brush your teeth," the toothbrush he handed you was old, but you recognised it as the one you kept in his room for the nights you would sleep over. Despite the banging headache and the questions floating around in your head, you managed to follow his instructions. There was no makeup left on your face from what you could tell, so someone must have taken a wipe to your face. You just splashed some water to refresh yourself and brushed your teeth to get the nasty taste out of your mouth.

Looking down, you were still in the skirt and college top from the party, but your socks and shoes had been replaced with fluffy socks that you loved to sleep in and all of your jewellery removed. Sungchan was waiting at the edge of his bed, eyes only half opened until you stepped back into the room again.

It looked the same as when you left, with a few pictures of you together removed in places. There were some weights in the corner too, but otherwise, it was a picture perfect reflection of before, as if time never passed.

"What happened? What am I doing here?" your throat burned from all the heaving you had been doing, but Sungchan passed you a water bottle and a pill, "All I remember was the game and you kissing me."

"We went to my room, but you passed out pretty quick," Sungchan recounted, "Sorry I kissed you. I slept on the floor, by the way."

You noticed the pillow and blanket missing from the bed. From the digital clock on Sungchan's desk, you could see it was still only 4am.

"Thanks for taking care of me. I'll catch a taxi home now," you looked around the room for your shoes, "Sorry for the vomit and stuff."

Sungchan rose to his feet, "Y/N, just stay. It's dangerous for you to leave at this time and you need to rest. It's okay. If it makes you uncomfortable, I can sleep in Eunseok's room."

Although your brain was blaring alarm signals in your mind and telling you to get out of there before anything else tragic could happen, your heart belonged to the bed that you missed sharing with him.

You sighed heavily and crawled back under the covers. With your eyes closed, you bared your true feelings into the silent room, "Please stay."

"Okay," he hummed, walking over to the other side of the bed where you assumed that he set up the pillow and blanket.

"Can you sleep with me? On the bed?" your voice was so quiet and hesitant despite your state that Sungchan didn't know if he just conjured that in his imagination until you spoke again, "Please?"

You shuffled over closer to your side of the bed closer to the door. He slid in on his side, closer to the window. Your head was spinning even lying down and you could feel yourself slipping out of consciousness already as his body heat combined with yours to wrap you up in a comfortable and familiar sensation.

"Y/N?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm lying. I'm not sorry I kissed you. I'm sorry that you had to see her kiss me though."

"Why?"

"I'd never want you to think that I want anyone else other than you."

Your awareness faded into nothingness as you felt Sungchan's hands slip in between yours under the sheets.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

"Y/N? What the fuck happened last night? Karina texted me and said some shit went down upstairs and you disappeared with Sungchan?" Minjeong's voice was laced with worry as she rushed to the door the second you stepped through.

Although she looked as haggard as you, she was much more preoccupied about where you went after she handed you your 3rd mojito of the night. You winced at her volume, "My head hurts like shit, Jeong. And my heart too."

"Jay told me what happened. Are you okay?" Heeseung's voice was quieter as you entered the open plan living space. He was sat on your couch with a bowl of cereal in the space between his crossed legs and Minjeong's iPad playing some TV show on the coffee table.

"Y/N? Hello?" Minjeong waved in your face.

"I don't want to talk about it, guys," you groaned, "Some girl kissed him. He kissed me. We went to his room. I passed out immediately and woke up throwing up. That's all."

"You didn't talk? Not this morning?" she prodded on.

It was only 11am. Your face involuntary cringed with regret.

Minjeong gasped dramatically, "Y/N, if you tell me right now that you left before he even woke up, I'm literally going to kill you. Y/N, that's such shitty behaviour. Honestly."

"Please don't make me feel worse than I already do," you sniffled as her words brought tears to your eyes, "I literally don't know what to do. All I want to do is let him go for his sake, but he keeps dragging me back to him."

She wrapped you up in a tight hug and smoothed out your hair, "Y/N, just go back to his room and tell him how you feel. Let him tell you how he feels too. You're going to keep going around in circles if you keep running from him, and it's going to end in heartbreak again."

You cried into her shoulders for a few minutes in sheer frustration, until she pushed you out of the door and made Heeseung drive you mid-bowl of cereal to the frat house to make sure you actually went inside.

On your grand exit out of the house that you prayed would go unnoticed, you had ran into Shotaro in the living room cleaning. He had given you a disappointed look, but your pleading eyes convinced him not to say anything as you slipped out of the door shortly after waking up. The expression on your face must have told him that you were sneaking away from his best friend.

It was Shotaro who opened the door for you when you knocked just 20 minutes after you left.

"You came to your senses?" Shotaro quirked an eyebrow at you as he stepped aside to let you in. You waved goodbye to Heeseung as he drove back in the direction he came in.

"I'm sorry, Taro."

"I'm not the one you should be saying that to," he sighed defeatedly, "Please don't hurt him again, Y/N. I love you both, but please."

All you could give him was a faltering smile as you ascended up to the second floor again. There were still some cups and miscellaneous items left strewn around the house, so you assumed that the frat brothers were mostly still asleep.

You tiptoed up to Sungchan's room and knocked three times, lightly, before pushing the door open. He was still curled up tightly on his side of the bed, cuddling a stuffed bear that you got him. It was exactly how you found him when you woke up again in the morning.

His face was so peaceful and angelic when he slept, soft snores escaping between his parted lips. In the past, you used to wake him up by peppering kisses on his smooth skin until he woke up. He used to wake up confused, until a smile would invade his face when he realised you were there. It used to make your heart feel all tight and warm in the best way possible.

Your breath hitched when Sungchan stirred to face his body towards you. Though his eyes stayed close, his breathing became noticeably shallower.

"You left," his voice was mercifully devoid of accusation, but it made your heart split down the middle all the same.

"I'm so sorry," it was pathetic, but that was all you could bring yourself to say.

Unwrapping his arm out from the tangle with his stuffed plushie, he patted the empty space on the bed that was still a bit warm. The weight of your body dropping onto the bed caused him to scooch a bit closer to you with his eyes still firmly closed.

"Can we just stop being sorry now? You're back now with no plans to leave again, so why do you keep running away from me?"

"Sungchan," you breathed out his name, but he opened his mouth again.

"I'll prove to you that all I want is still you. There's no one else, Y/N. You hurt me a lot, but I know you didn't want to. Let's give it another go. Do it properly and call each other boyfriend and girlfriend," his lips tugged up into a soft smile.

You didn't even know when you started crying but at the sound of your sniffle, his hands came up to wipe at your cheeks.

"Why are you crying?"

"What did I do to deserve someone like you? You deserve someone better," you choked out through your hot tears.

He let out a soft laugh as his eyes finally opened slowly and met yours, "Stop asking questions and saying sorry and just accept that I want to love you, Y/N."

His words triggered a waterfall of tears to stream down your face, but he pulled you down into the bed with him and wrapped you up in his arms tightly. It felt like home again.

"I loved you, Sungchan. I did."

He brushed the hair out of your face and planted a searing kiss on your temple, "I know, Y/N. I knew. Stop crying and go back to sleep with me. It'll all be okay when we wake up. I promise, baby."

He tucked his bear into your grasp and pulled the sheets over your bodies again. His arms returned around you and he continued to press the most gentle touches of his lips on your forehead, your temples, your nose and finally onto your lips that held back choked sobs until you slipped out of consciousness.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

"I wanna know everything you did in New York," Sungchan requested softly as he swung next to you. On the walk to your apartment from his that he accompanied you on after you both woke up, you spotted the playground equidistant between both residences empty. The two of you had spent a few nights there in the past swinging beside each other and talking, so it seemed perfect to go there again to talk- somewhere public and open.

You texted Minjeong that you were on the way back to your flat to change and freshen up and she kindly left with Heeseung as to not make the situation any more awkward or tense by having them meet in such a circumstance. Sungchan just sprawled in your bed and scrolled on his phone as you showered, changed and applied your skincare. After a night of drinking, throwing up and not moisturising after washing your face in the middle of the night, your skin had been going through it. When you plugged in your hairdryer and made him scooch over silently so you could sit on the bed, Sungchan had sat up and taken the dryer out of your grasp, motioning for you to turn around.

"Someone's watched Queen of Tears," you humoured over at him as the humming and heat began to fill the room.

"Just like the entire country," he jested back, "I guess we're a bit like them."

"Chaebols who get married and hate each other until one of them gets a seemingly incurable illness?" through the mirror at the end of your bed, you saw Sungchan roll his eyes playfully.

"Two people that find their way back to each other," he had corrected softly.

His words struck you silent, just watching him direct the dryer at your hair while thoughts swarmed in your head. You weren't sure if your neck was burning up from the dryer or from his fingers bumping against your skin every so often.

Since the two of you woke up, you could probably count on your hands how many times you'd spoken. You'd settled into this comfortable, but weighted silence knowing that sooner or later you'd probably have to properly talk to navigate the events of the night prior. You had delayed it a bit by asking to go home and change and he walked you all the way wordlessly other than suggesting to go to the park after.

When you were done getting ready, the two of you made your way to the park. This time, Sungchan had grabbed your hand firmly in his at the very first instance of your skin brushing. He was much more bold than when you had left.

"What do you want to know?" you quirked an eyebrow as he kicked off the ground to swing higher.

"If it was everything you dreamed of. If you missed home. If you made friends," he listed out, looking over at you.

You sighed and thought back. Over the past few weeks since you'd been back, everyone had asked you the same questions. For the most part, you had given the same answer to all of them robotically, but you felt like Sungchan deserved a bit more than your usual spiel.

"The city was incredible. New York was always my dream. I got to travel a little around the country too, so that was nice. It got really lonely pretty quickly, even though I made a lot of friends. It's just so busy and everyone has their own thing," you recounted slowly, "I missed home as soon as I left, but I do miss the friends I made in New York. America is very different to Seoul though."

"Did you mean what you said at the party? There was no one else?" his voice was shaky as he asked. You knew it wasn't something he took lightly.

"I wouldn't lie to you," you affirmed strongly, "I really did miss you and regretted everything the second I left. I was too ashamed to admit my mistake, so I'm sorry for hurting you unnecessarily. I don't regret going to New York, but I regret leaving you."

He stops the swing by planting his feet firmly. His eyes bore into yours as he tried to analyse your emotions.

"I grew a lot in that year apart, so I guess I should thank you for that. I learned that I should fight for what I want and I think we can be better this time around," Sungchan nodded, "And I missed you a lot. I keep saying it, but I just want you to know I never hated you or thought of you in anger while you were away."

The silence that followed must have freaked him out a little because he quickly continued.

"And about Jiyoon. Just, um, ignore her, please. I never knew she felt that way and I promise that I never acted in a way that might have conveyed that I felt the same," Sungchan blurted out with wide eyes, "I just- didn't know how to bring you up to her. We honestly didn't see each other very much; she just exaggerated."

You giggled a little at his panic and reached over the iron links to take his hand, "I trust you, Sungchan. You were free to do anything you wanted, but still, I trust you. You're allowed to have friends."

With a squeeze of his hand, Sungchan stood up and loomed over you on your swing. He tugged softly to get you up on your feet and clasped his hands around your waist when you did. Sungchan pulled you close to him, chest to chest.

Gasping, you looked around to make sure the playground was still empty, "Sungchan!"

He nuzzled his face down, close against yours with your foreheads pressed together, "You're all I could ever want. Please don't leave me again."

Your body completely melted into his as you brought your cold hands up to his warm cheeks. Bravely, you pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, just barely missing his lips, "I won't, Channie."

"Is it too fast to tell you I love you? I've been waiting to say it for over a year," Sungchan pulled his head back and scrunched his face up, "Does that make me too much of a loser? Being this down bad for you?"

All the tension and stress left your body; you could finally return to normal and joke with Sungchan as you giggled into his neck, "Maybe. Do you not want to be?"

"No, I love you," he chuckled along, grazing his nose against yours again before pressing his warm lips on yours.

His lips were pillowy, parting your lips and allowing him to push deeper. He was much more gentle this time than the night before, but a squeeze on your waist caused your breath to hitch and allowed him to run tongue along your bottom lip. You could feel the outpour of emotions in his kiss and how desperate he was to let you know them.

In the year without Sungchan, your heart grew fonder and fonder and you thought to yourself how you were never going to waste another minute with him.

Sungchan had been the first to pull away, looking down at you with half-lidded, passion-filled eyes, "Let's go back before some family comes and reports us to the police."

"Ha, for doing what?" you teased, hooking your fingers around his belt loops.

His eyes transformed into a glare as he stepped away from you and moved towards the exit, "Very funny, Y/N. Yours or mine?"

"Mine," you shrugged, "Minjeong's out with Heeseung and your frat brothers are all home and hungover."

Sungchan just grinned at you, swinging an arm around your shoulder and pulling you tight to his body, "I can't wait to tell everyone you're mine again."

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

The last game of the season was the national finals. You had been nervous all week watching Sungchan leave every day for extra practice when he usually only trained once a week with the team.

With a cup of cola in one hand and a cardboard sign in the other, you fought through the crowd on the bleachers to find the available seat between some of your friends. Minjeong was already settled in her seat, scolding Seunghan and Sohee for playing with her I <3 Heeseung homemade headband.

"You made it!" Chanyoung clapped happily as you sat between him and his older cousin. On the other side of him, the rest of the boys waved at you excitedly.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, of course!" you beamed. The whole arena was vibrating with excitement as nearly the whole student population turned up for the game. It was the final big event in the school calendar before the stress of final exams took over, so everyone was letting their hair down a little.

There was a section of supporters of the other team tucked away in the corner, but otherwise the people meshed together in a sea of your school colours. They had won the draw as to which school the game would be played at. You yourself was sporting a jersey nearly identical to the one that Sungchan would be coming out in soon. The shirt on his back fit his frame nicely, but it draped over you like a dress.

"Channie's gonna play good tonight because his lucky charm's here," Wonbin snorted teasingly, "He was shit all of last season."

"Wonbin," Eunseok hissed, but you just laughed with the long-haired boy.

"I'm really excited. I know they'll win." you waved the "GO #23" sign towards them.

You watched the field in anticipation as they ran out to erupting cheers from the supporters and watched as Sungchan searched the crowds for his group of friends as soon as they settled in a line. He waved in a small gesture, but all of you stood up and flailed your hands everywhere. You shook the sign vigorously and watched as his face contorted in awe and appreciation.

The game was absolutely nerve wracking. Your arms were interlocked and clutched tightly with Minjeong's and the two of you moved like one being standing up to shout at bad referee decisions or cheer at good tackles. Heeseung and Sungchan were playing well up front together, dominating the field so far with a few decent shots on target. Being the most dangerous on the field, the other team's defence were taking them on left, right and centre, causing your faces to be stuck in a permanent grimace for the first half.

Seunghan tried to start a cheer at half-time and that provided enough entertainment for your group when it miserably failed to notice the passage of time. In fresh shirts and refreshed motivation, your team went all out and scored 2 goals. Heeseung's celebrations towards Minjeong were sweet and had her swooning with flushed cheeks.

The other team had managed to score a goal, but in the 87th minute, Sungchan had broken away from his marker around the halfway line and poured all of his might into completing his run to the goal. The goalkeeper had a lot of time to anticipate Sungchan's goal, but his left foot was powerful enough to send the ball hurtling past the keeper's fingers and into the back of the net.

Screaming and yelling in joy, Sungchan slid in the direction of your friends and blew kisses in your direction. Beaming ear to ear, you deafened your friends with your ecstatic whoops. His teammates jumped on his body and then dragged him back to his position for the final 3 minutes.

Safe to say, they won the final.

After a celebration with medals, Prosecco and school cheers, you were waiting in the lobby just outside the changing rooms.

Sohee was talking your ear off about some game that he had started playing with Seunghan when a hand snaked around your waist and you felt the flutter of lips hovering over your neck.

"There's my girl. Hi, baby," he murmured against you. After sweating for 90 minutes, the boys definitely all had to take showers, so his hair was still slightly dripping over the jersey on your back.

"Channie, I'm so proud of you. Congratulations!" spinning around in his grip, you hooked your arms around his neck as he buried his head in yours.

"Your support meant everything to me. Thank you for the banner! I have the best girlfriend ever," he pulled back and beamed down at you, planting a peck on your expectant lips.

Despite having been officially his girlfriend for over 6 months now, the title still made your heart flutter to this day. You'd never forgive your past self from depriving yourself from having Sungchan as you had him now. Despite being the sweetest companion in your early university days, he had held himself back a little due to your hesitation.

Now that you were all in, Sungchan showered you with love, praise and support in anything you did. You tried your best to reciprocate and most days, it felt like your heart could explode every time you looked at him from how your love seemed to grow more and more every day.

He was the perfect gentleman and the perfect boyfriend. He brought you snacks whenever you had to stay late at the library and tucked you tight in his chest under the covers on the days that the world seemed to be collapsing - it never did, maybe thanks to him.

In short, adoring Sungchan became part of your daily routine. A task that you were happy to continue for the rest of your life.

"And I have the most amazing boyfriend in the world," you rested your cheek against his chest as you squeezed him tighter, "I love you, Sungchan."

His heartbeat thumped in your ear as he smoothed out your hair with his palm. The rhythm was strong and constant, as dependable as he was. You felt the love in his touch, no need for words.

Jung Sungchan was a man of his word. As long as you stayed by each other's side, everything would be okay. The world continues to spin. Your heart continues to beat for him.

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the-daydreaming-show · 2 months ago

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The Gods Has Spoken (Poly!Feysand x Reader)

SUMMARY: You were a mere mortal, daughter of no one. You were sold into slavery by your father. Furthermore, you were a courtesan on the pirate islands, known as The Pirate's Bride. And then you were condemned to work for life in the volcanoes for killing a free man as a slave. From there, you conquered Slaver's Bay, having seen dragons and a new version of yourself born in the lava.

Now you go to the Night Court, in search of an alliance that is easy to fall into nothingness, because of looking for your childhood friend Feyre Archeron.

Where you were Feyre's childhood friend. A couple years older than her, you took her under your wing and taught her how to survive. Now you are both leaders of your lands and your causes, and those may not be compatible.

Feyre already has her peace, and you are about to start your war.

CHARACTER(S): Poly!Feysand x Fem!Reader, Feyre Archeron x Fem!Reader, Rhysand x Fem!Reader.

WARNING(S): Reader is female. Reader is described as having long hair. Reader is given hair color, but it is clarified that it is artificial and has natural unidentified color below. Misunderstandings and slight miscommunication (in my defense, it is justified). War. Slavery. Prostitution. ACOTAR Canon sh*t.

AO3

Tag List is OPEN.

(0.) PREFACE

SUMMARY: You make some last arrangements before leaving for the Night Court. Or. You make a stupid decision that will change everything.

(1.) THREADS OF TIME.

Ever since you arrived in the Night Court, you've avoided awkward confrontation and the thought of going out of your way to talk to Feyre. You've barely looked at her in an attempt to avoid facing the very thing you came here for. But finally, one evening, after a flight over the mountains with Balerion, you come face to face with the past and present you've been avoiding.

Or.

After not seeing each other for over a decade, you and Feyre finally meet in the woods again, but nothing is the same, not even the two of you. You make an agreement to try to find a balance, and you fail miserably.

(2.) EMBRACING ILLUSIONS

After realizing that the alliance won't happend, you decide to take a new approach to what's left of you visit, while Feyre decides it's time for you to have a serious talk. Or. Where you and Feyre get too carried away by what could have been, and yo ignore what you know will be, just to live in an illusion a little longer.

(3.) DREAMS MADE HEAVY.

It's the celebration of Nyx's first birthday. Or Your time in illusion is running out and the past is fading, unable to bear its own weight any longer.

4. (COMING SOON)

TAG LIST: @pinksmellslikelove @saltedcoffeescotch @raisam @asweetblueberry2 @kabekusa @throneofsapphics @makayla2036789 @jojodojo02 @kooterz @rcarbo1 @whyucloudingmymind @hjgdhghoe @minbeatriz16 @azzydaddy

#acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #feyre archeron x reader #rhysand x reader #feysand x reader #poly!feysand x reader #feyre archeron #rhysand #acotar fic #feysand #friends to lovers #strangers to lovers #second chance love #fated mates #mates #dragons

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jincapableoflove · 2 days ago

Text

The One That Got Away (Almost) | one-shot

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: ex bf! jungkook, ex gf! reader, exes to lovers, second chances, wedding setting, mutual pining, angst, fluff.

Summary: You weren’t supposed to see him again. Not after everything. But when your mutual friends invite you to their wedding, you’re forced to face Jungkook—the boy who once had your heart, the man you never quite got over.

Word count: 3k+

Warnings: tension-filled reunion, emotional vulnerability, painful reminiscing, longing stares, unresolved feelings, mutual pining, a near kiss, ambiguous ending (or is it?), fluff and angst intertwined.

MOODBOARD

A/N: something i whipped up in less than an hour lmaooo idk what this i was studying for my finals and then suddenly got inspired. not edited/proofread

The moment you step inside, a wave of warmth and laughter crashes against you, loud enough to drown out the doubts still clawing at your mind.

You shouldn’t have come. You knew that the second you reached the grand entrance, standing outside for far too long, debating whether to turn around and disappear before anyone noticed you. But now, it’s too late. You’re here—surrounded by the golden glow of chandeliers, the delicate scent of fresh flowers, and the low hum of a string quartet playing in the background.

Guests in elegant attire drift past you, their smiles easy, their conversations effortless. You, on the other hand, feel out of place. Like a misplaced puzzle piece in a picture you no longer belong to. Your fingers tighten around the small purse in your hands, grounding yourself, trying to suppress the voice in your head that keeps whispering this was a mistake.

And then—your eyes lift, almost instinctively, drawn to a presence you don’t even realize you’re searching for.

There he is.

Jeon Jungkook.

Standing across the room, looking just as devastating as the last time you saw him. Maybe even more. His dark hair is neatly styled, but there’s still a hint of unruliness to it, like he ran his fingers through it moments ago. The sharp lines of his tuxedo fit him perfectly, tailored to a body you remember far too well. But it’s his face that steals your breath—because it’s different now.

A small silver pierces through his eyebrow, catching the warm light as he turns his head slightly. Your stomach tightens at the sight of it. Then your gaze drops, lower, to his mouth—oh. There’s a ring on his lower lip nowtoo, resting at the corner like it belongs there, like it’s always been there.

But it hasn’t.

He didn’t have them before. Not when you knew him.

And yet, standing there,with his piercing gaze locked onto yours, it’s impossible to imagine him any other way. Like this is who he was always meant to be. Like the boy you knew is long gone, replaced by someone sharper, someone who looks like he’s seen more, lived more.

Jungkook doesn’t look away.

And neither do you.

Because the moment your gaze collides with his, time folds in on itself, pulling you back to places you swore you’d never return to. Memories flicker at the edges of your mind, ones you spent too long trying to bury. Ones that still have the power to unravel you if you’re not careful.

But as he lifts his glass to his lips—piercing catching against the rim, a slow smirk tugging at his mouth—you realize something else.

You’re not careful. You've never been careful.

Not when it comes to him.

The air between you tightens, crackling with a tension you don’t know how to name. For a second, neither of you move. Neither of you speak.

Then—he takes a breath, tilting his head slightly. His lip ring glints under the warm lights, the movement drawing your attention, and suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of everything about him. The sharp cut of his jaw, his muscular frame, the way time has altered him in small, striking ways—yet, somehow, he’s still unmistakably Jungkook.

You force yourself to approach. You can’t just stand here, frozen, when he’s already watching you with that unreadable expression.

"Jungkook," you say, your voice carefully even.

"Y/N." His lips curve, just slightly, but there’s something guarded in his tone. Something that wasn’t always there.

The polite exchange feels strange—stiff and unfamiliar, like wearing a shirt that no longer fits right. There’s an awkwardness to it, a hesitance. You’ve spoken to him a thousand times before, but not like this. Not with this much distance wedged between you.

Before either of you can find the right words, a voice cuts through the thick silence.

"Oh my God, you two!"

You barely have time to process before Hana, your best friend, who is glowing and radiant in her wedding dress, steps between you, beaming. "I can’t believe this reunion is happening at my wedding," she gushes, clasping her hands together.

Jungkook exhales a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, while you muster up a smile, though your fingers tighten around your clutch.

"You were inseparable back then," Hana sighs dreamily, glancing between you. "I honestly thought you’d still be together."

Your smile falters.

Jungkook chuckles, low and soft, but there’s something strained in the sound—something only noticeable if you know what to listen for. And you do.

Before you can respond, another voice joins the conversation.

"Yeah, you two were a team."

You turn just as Namjoon walks up, hands in his pockets, a knowing glint in his eyes. He nods toward you both. "If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you both planned to avoid each other tonight."

Your breath catches, fingers curling slightly.

Because he’s right.

You weren’t supposed to see Jungkook. You weren’t supposed to be standing here, side by side, being dissected by old friends who still remember you as a pair.

It’s too much. The past presses in too tightly, threatening to unravel the fragile walls you’ve built around it.

You clear your throat, shifting on your feet. "I should—um, I need to go check on something."

The excuse is weak, but no one stops you.

Jungkook doesn’t stop you.

You turn on your heel, slipping into the crowd, the weight of his gaze lingering long after you walk away.

The memory creeps in before you can stop it. It always does when it comes to him.

Maybe it’s the way his voice sounded just now—lower, more restrained, like he was holding something back. Maybe it’s the way his lips curved into that half-smile, the same one you used to know, except now there’s something different about it. Something heavier.

Or maybe it’s just this place—this moment—forcing you to remember.

The beginning of the end wasn’t loud. There was no big fight, no shattered glasses or slammed doors. It was quiet. Subtle. The kind of unraveling that happens so slowly you don’t notice until it’s too late.

It started with the missed calls. You’d stare at your phone, watching the screen go dark after ringing out, telling yourself he’d call back. Sometimes he did. Sometimes he didn’t. You told yourself it didn’t matter. That he was busy. That you were busy. That things would go back to normal soon.

But they didn’t.

Then came the growing distance—conversations that used to last for hours dwindled to minutes. The effortless ease between you started to fade, replaced by careful words and spaces that never used to exist. You still reached for each other, still tried to hold on, but it wasn’t the same. It was like grasping at something that had already begun slipping through your fingers.

And then, one day, you realized—neither of you was fighting for it anymore.

Maybe that was the worst part.

Not the silence. Not the aching loneliness that settled between you even when you were in the same room. Not even the final moment when you walked away, knowing it was over.

No, the worst part was knowing that, in the end, you had both stopped choosing each other.

You wonder if Jungkook ever regretted it.

If he ever picked up his phone and almost called you. If he ever looked at old photos, reread old messages, and felt the same pang in his chest that you do now.

But as you steal a glance at him across the room—his piercing catching the light, his expression unreadable—you realize you don’t have an answer. Maybe you never will.

The soft hum of a love song drifts through the air, weaving its way through the golden-lit ballroom. You recognize it instantly—one of those songs that used to play in the background of late-night drives and whispered conversations, back when everything between you and Jungkook was easy. When love felt effortless.

You should walk away.

But before you can, Hana’s voice breaks through your thoughts.

She appears beside you, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, come on," she teases, giving your arm a gentle push. "It’s just one dance."

You blink. "Hana—"

"Y/N."

His voice comes from behind you, deep and low, sending a shiver down your spine. When you turn, Jungkook is already standing there, hand outstretched, waiting.

The sight of him like this—watching you with quiet intent, his fingers inches from yours—it makes something in your chest tighten. His eyebrow piercing glints under the chandelier light, and for a second, you wonder how much has really changed between you.

You hesitate.

You should say no.

But you don’t.

Instead, you exhale a quiet breath and place your hand in his.

The warmth of his palm against yours is startling, a reminder of how well you once fit together. His grip is firm but careful as he leads you to the dance floor, and when his other hand finds the small of your back, you feel the air shift—like the past and present have begun to blur.

You move together, slow and measured, like muscle memory kicking in. The tension that once hung between you begins to soften, melting into something quieter, something almost tender.

But beneath it, the pain lingers.

It lingers in the way Jungkook’s fingers tighten slightly around yours. In the way his eyes search yours, like he’s trying to remember something he lost. Or maybe something he let go of too soon.

And then, softly—so softly you almost miss it—he speaks.

"Do you ever think about it?"

You inhale sharply, your chest tightening.

There’s no need to ask what it is. You know.

Your fingers curl slightly against his shoulder, and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself be honest.

"All the time," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook swallows. And when he looks at you, it’s not just him looking at you. It’s the boy you used to love. The boy who once knew you better than anyone else. The boy who, despite everything, still holds a piece of you.

He looks at you like he’s seeing a version of the past—one he still wishes was real.

The night air is crisp against your skin as you step onto the terrace, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. The muffled hum of music and laughter fades behind you, leaving only the quiet rustling of leaves and the distant hum of the city. You press your hands against the cool railing, tilting your head back to stare at the sky.

You needed this. A moment to breathe. To gather the thoughts that have been unraveling since the moment you locked eyes with Jungkook tonight.

But you’re not alone for long.

Footsteps echo softly against the stone floor, and then—

"Running away again?"

The voice is unmistakable.

You don’t turn around, but your lips twitch. "Maybe."

Jungkook exhales a quiet chuckle, stepping beside you. His shoulder is close enough to feel, radiating warmth, but he doesn’t touch you. He just leans against the railing, mirroring your stance, gazing out at the horizon.

For a while, neither of you speak. It’s not the same suffocating silence that had filled the space between you before—it’s something different. Something hesitant, fragile.

And then, finally—

"I should have fought harder." His voice is low, but there’s no mistaking the weight behind it. "For us."

You swallow, fingers tightening against the railing. "We both should have."

Jungkook turns his head, watching you carefully. His eyebrow piercing catches the faint glow of the terrace lights, but it’s his eyes that hold you captive—deep, searching, carrying years’ worth of unspoken words.

"I never stopped wondering about you," he confesses. "Where you were. If you were happy. If you ever…" He trails off, shaking his head slightly, as if the words are too much.

Your chest aches.

Because you know exactly how he feels.

Your breath trembles as you force yourself to meet his gaze. "I never stopped missing you."

Something shifts in his expression—something raw and unguarded, like he wasn’t expecting you to say it out loud. His fingers flex against the railing, and for a split second, you think he might reach for you.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, you stand there, under the vast stretch of stars, caught in the space between what was and what could have been.

The world narrows to this moment.

The distant laughter and music from the wedding fade into nothing. The cool night air, the stars overhead, the lingering scent of roses from the terrace garden—none of it matters. Not when Jungkook is standing this close. Not when his eyes are locked onto yours like he’s searching for something he lost.

You don’t know how long you’ve been standing there, just looking at each other. But it feels like forever. And yet, not nearly long enough.

Then, so softly you almost think you imagined it, his fingers brush against yours.

It’s the lightest touch—barely there—but it’s enough. Enough to make your breath hitch, to send a shiver through your skin, to remind you how it used to feel when touching him wasn’t a question, just instinct.

His hand lingers, and your fingers twitch, tempted to curl around his.

Jungkook shifts closer.

Your pulse thrums as his gaze flickers down—to your lips, then back to your eyes. You can feel the heat radiating from him, see the slight hesitation in the way he exhales, slow and measured, like he’s trying to steady himself.

Then, he leans in.

Just a little. Just enough that you can feel his breath ghosting over your lips, warm and intoxicating.

Your heart pounds.

And for one fleeting, reckless second, you think—Maybe this time.

But then—

"Jungkook!"

The name cuts through the night like a blade, shattering the fragile moment between you.

You both freeze.

His shoulders tense, his lips part like he wants to say something—but the spell is broken.

Reality crashes down.

The night is ending. You can feel it in the way the air shifts, in the distant sound of laughter echoing from the reception hall, in the quiet, unspoken weight pressing between you and Jungkook.

He stands before you, hands buried in his pockets, eyes flickering with something unreadable. For a moment, he just looks at you—like he’s memorizing your face, like he’s trying to hold onto something before it slips away.

Like he wants to say something.

But then, instead of words, he exhales softly and smiles.

It’s small. Sad. Fleeting. The kind of smile that carries years of unsaid apologies, of missed chances, of everything that could have been but never was.

And just like that, you know.

This is goodbye.

Behind him, Namjoon watches the exchange, arms crossed, shaking his head with the kind of knowing that makes your chest ache. “Some things never change,” he mutters, almost to himself.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe this is just another chapter of the same old story—one where you watch Jungkook walk away, and he lets you.

Maybe this is how it’s always meant to end.

Your fingers twitch at your sides. You should let him go.

But—

"Jungkook."

His name barely makes it past your lips, but it’s enough. Enough to stop him in his tracks, enough to make his shoulders tense before he slowly turns back to face you. His expression is guarded, hesitant—like he doesn’t want to hope but can’t help it anyway.

Your pulse pounds, hands trembling at your sides. You don’t have the perfect words, no grand speech or well-rehearsed confession. But maybe you don’t need one. Maybe all that matters is this.

"Would you stay if I asked you to?"

The night air hangs heavy between you, thick with anticipation. For a heartbeat, you think he won’t answer—that maybe you’re too late.

But then—

His lips part on a quiet, shaky exhale. And when he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.

"I would."

Your breath catches.

Jungkook takes a step closer, then another, closing the space between you. His gaze flickers over your face—searching, waiting, making sure this is real. That you won’t take it back.

And you don’t.

For the first time in years, you choose him.

A slow, tentative smile tugs at the corner of his lips, chasing away the sadness that had been lingering there all night. His fingers brush against yours—warm, familiar, grounding.

This time, you don’t pull away.

This time, neither of you let go.

Maybe he was almost the one that got away.

Almost.

taglist: @dreamersparacosm @taekritimin123 @claireshelby @toosweetforyall @iamstilljk @jjkluver7 @travelgurrl @baechugff @whoa-jo @junniesoleilkth @kxthx-b @smoljimjim @jk97bam @dna-black-and-blue @sanarin @rebwwca @belleilichil

lmk if u liked it <3 (if this gets a good response i may or may not write a part 2/drabble for this couple)

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joshsindigostreak · 2 months ago

Text

'Tis the Damn Season

“I’m staying at my parent’s house, and the road not taken looks real good now…”

A Holiday One Shot 🎄

Josh Kiszka x F!Reader

Authors Note: Happy Holidays y’all!! Here’s a cozy Josh piece that is very self indulgent but so sweet!! Happy reading and I can’t wait to hear your thoughts! 🍷🎄

Word Count: 8.5K

Warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, 18+, unprotected sex, oral sex both m/f receiving, swearing, internal angst.

Despite the ambient noise of the dive bar you were perched in, for the first time in three days you finally felt at peace. You loved your parents, but visiting them these days could be overwhelming, especially with the revolving door of family members showing up unannounced. There was only so much small talk one could take. You had lost count of how many times you described your job, your passion, as an acquisitions editor at a small publishing house, to various family members. Eventually you had to simplify it with a curt, “I get to be the person to say ‘yay,’ or ‘nay’ on their book submissions.”

You loved your job. As much as it sucked to be the bad guy sometimes, the benefits of being able to work remotely and at your own pace made up for it. Getting paid to read was the best thing to happen to you in your twenties so far, and even though the pay wasn’t spectacular, you wouldn’t trade it for anything. There were times you were worried that making your passion your job would burn you out of reading in your own time, but so far you still found the time to bury your nose in a new tome of choice.

When you had packed for your trip back home, a small stack of books made it into your luggage, along with your trusty Kindle that was loaded with various quick reads that let you turn your brain off and enjoy the ride. It took everything within you to not check your work emails on your laptop, but you were on the precious few PTO days your employer had allotted everyone in your department, and you were determined to use them properly.

The bar you had sought refuge in was a local one a few blocks from your house. It was one your dad would always go to hang out with his buddies when you were younger and he was still working that 9-5 throughout the week.

As you sat on the wobbly bar stool, your ankles crossed and your toes rested on the metal bar attached to the wood paneling of the bar itself. A solitary glass of dark red wine sat on the bar top, inches from the book you were devouring. It wasn’t anything complicated, and many would call it a dime-a-dozen romantic fantasy, filled with magic and tall dark love interests with horrific social skills. But sometimes, the familiar nature of the plot and characters was comforting. The plot might not have been overly unique, but the curiosity of how the author was going to weave together these tropes was half the fun. How was this author going to handle the “oh…” moment between two enemies? What mundane task will trigger the main character into a flashback of a lost love that got away?

This personal game of yours was a slippery slope, as you had to practically pavlov yourself into not going into work mode while reading, but you kept yourself in check for the most part. At least that's what you would tell yourself.

You flipped another page in the book, eager to see how the current scene was unfolding. The imagery was building in your mind so well that you hadn’t even noticed a familiar, sweet and dimpled face, had slipped into the bar with a few friends.

Josh had shed his fluffy, faux fur lined coat, one that was way too ostentatious for the small town atmosphere, but he wrote it off on how practical it was for keeping the cold winter air from chilling his bones. He had decided against the beanie that he typically wore with it, in favor of letting his hair show itself off as it normally did. Tonight was not the night for hat-hair, though the singer was unsure where this conclusion had come from earlier in the evening. The nagging feeling of, you need to look nice, had been lingering in his brain for the past few hours.

In his typical fashion, he hadn’t shut his mouth the entire time he had been inside the establishment. Rattling off story after story from being on the road with his brothers and their band, cracking up at his own jokes, letting the excitement of being home and seeing the same faces he grew up with.

The pool table in the far corner had been where his group had settled, drinks settled on the edge with pool sticks in their hands. Josh was bent over the table settling in to make his shot when a figure hunched slightly on a bar stool, turning a page in the book sitting on the bar top.

Your profile was slightly obscured from where he was an how you were sitting on the stool, and it wasn’t until the bartender came over to refill your wine glass and your name tumbled from their mouth in conversation that it clicked for the rock star who had probably made the worst pool shot in his life at the sound of it.

You. It was you.

His cheeks heated in the embarrassment of his shitty shot and the memories that materialized in his mind’s eye. Sitting next to you in algebra, making eye contact and shrugging when neither of you knew whatever the fuck your teacher was talking about. Or walking past you in the hallway as you slammed your locker shut trying to book it to your next class. He’d ignored the sinking feeling he had every time it happened that had him wishing his locker was in the same hall as yours, not annoying around the corner. But other times of bumping elbows with you in the lunch line, sharing grimaces at the dry square pizza in front of you. A few of the dumb sarcastic quips he’d made in class in a hushed whisper (well, as much of a whisper as Josh Kiszka could produce), just to make you bite your lip and try not to giggle too loud, echoed in his mind.

He hadn’t seen you since the last week of senior year, specifically at a graduation party one of your mutual friends had thrown together last minute. His final memory of your face was how it crumpled slightly as a very tipsy Morgan Pearson had led him up the stairs. It was an image that had haunted him for a long time, because by the time he had made it back downstairs you had already left the party, and he knew you were off on your summer road trip with your parents in the morning. From there he had observed on Facebook you settling into your freshman dorm in a school that was states away, seemingly doing well. Eventually his own band took over all of his time and his internet scrolling was behind him as he saw the world with his brothers.

Fuck.

He needed to talk to you.

Your eyes flitted over to the next page as you took in the new chapter heading, not wanting to be distracted from the cliffhanger the previous chapter had ended on.

The heroine had just discovered some deep family secrets that rattled her entire being, changing the entire trajectory of her journey so-

“Whatcha readin’?”

The fantasy world in your mind dissolved at the sound of that voice. A voice, as the cliche says, you hadn’t heard in years. If it had been anyone else, you would have bitten their head off for rudely interrupting your reading, But slowly your eyes fluttered upwards at the source, using every mitochondria in your body to not visibly react at how…different he looked. Not different in an unrecognizable way, but in a way that showed you that he had grown into his own body. That the boyish awkwardness had evolved into a strong jaw and broad shoulders. He…he had facial hair now, and briefly a memory flashed in your mind of him in junior year lamenting about how patchy his upper lip was no matter what he did.

The sides of his head were shorn down to the skin, and the dim lighting of the bar had you almost convinced he had a mohawk until you looked closer and saw it was closer to a mullet instead. It was a look you would have never considered for him, but it fit perfectly, and he looked beautiful with it.

And there it was, the knot that would form in your throat whenever you were in his presence. You hadn’t felt that particular sensation since the night of that god awful graduation party. The very party where you had last seen the man before you.

Your mouth parted dumbly as he parked himself on the stool next to yours.

“...Josh?” was all you could say.

He breathed out your name, in a low tone that made your stomach flip. As he took a sip of whatever mixed drink he had in one hand, his other reached over for your book to get a good look of the cover. Emotional and muscle memory kicked in and you allowed him in your personal space, practically letting him take the book out of your hands. In the past, the two of you were always spatially close. Eating off each other's plates, unconsciously scooting your chairs closer together, or grabbing the same seats on the bus for field trips. You weren’t attached to the hip, but somehow whenever you would be in the same room you’d always end up next to each other.

Josh mouthed the words of the title silently to himself, eyebrows raising slightly at your book of choice.

“Must be pretty good, you didn’t even notice me walking over,” he said before taking another sip of his drink.

A nervous laugh rattled through you, “y-yeah it’s pretty immersive.”

Your eyes were trained on his face, mapping out all of the same but new features, and you wondered if he was doing the same to you as his warm gaze hadn’t left you.

Josh was most definitely taking you in, as well. You looked so proper sitting on that stool in an oversized black sweater that fell past your hips and hid most of the skirt you had been wearing under it. He tried his best not to make it obvious he was staring at your legs and the tights that were wrapped around them that led down to your boots. But the singer flicked his eyes back to your face, and noted all the subtle changes since the last time he had seen you. You looked so…grown up now, that he felt like he had missed so much in the last few years. It was a feeling he had whenever he came back home, but with you…with you it bothered him, and that feeling caught him off guard.

Because he was Josh, and he could never let silence linger too long, “so what made you bring a book to a bar of all places?”

And in a matter of seconds, you began relaying to him how the trip back home had been the last few days, and how much you needed a break from it all.

“...you remember that uncle that's technically my dads cousin but I call him uncle cause he’s a lot older than my dad?”

Josh nodded along.

“He’s so fucking loud, dude. And he never shuts up and because of this my grandmother turns up the TV and no one tells him to quiet down so between the TV blasting and him rambling about the dumbest things…ugh and my mother wouldn’t stop hovering over me! I needed to get out of there.”

He smiled as you hashed out your family drama, flashing his teeth as he did so. There were follow up questions on his end, asking about your parents and grandparents and how they had been. Josh had been one of your few friends who went out of his way to be charming to your parents. He had earned the, “oh Josh is welcome any time he wants…” invitation by fifth grade alone.

You took a sip of your wine, “oh my god I’ve been talking so much about me, what about you? How’s the band going?”

It was his turn to blush slightly as he began telling you about the most recent tour they had been on, and how this was a mini break between tour legs and that at the beginning of the year they were off to a new continent.

He pointed over his shoulder at his friends who were still milling around the pool table, “...in fact Danny is right over there.”

You turned and gave the drummer a once-over. The last time you had seen Danny Wagner he was this gangly awkward teenager who nervously laughed at everything. But there he was, in a red sweater with perfect spiral curls spilling over his shoulders. The sweater itself was very form fitting on him and it was easy to see how muscled out his shoulders and arms had become over the years.

“Holy shit, that’s Danny Wagner?” You gave him a slight wave when he made eye contact with you, and he politely waved back with a shy smile.

Josh, rather indignantly, noticed the way you were looking at Danny and a sharp stabbing feeling of jealousy shot through him. Heat reached the surface of his cheeks and he momentarily contemplated reaching over to gently turn your chin back to him.

But before Josh could even shove that thought away, you turned to fully face him, and gave a nod to the bartender to get you another glass of wine. Something deep down felt more settled when your attention was fully back on him.

However, you could feel those big brown eyes staring at you as you glanced at Danny. It was such a fixed stare that you were all too familiar with. In the rare moments that Josh was quiet, he would be staring into space, deep in thought. More often than not you chalked it up to him zoning out, but having those unblinking eyes on you had your heart hammering in your chest.

It wasn’t the first time he had looked at you like that. There were several small, fleeting moments throughout your adolescence where you’d catch his eyes on you. On the bus coming home from a field trip, walking towards you at your locker, in US History, and even at various house parties you found yourselves at. Your reaction was always the same: the skin of your neck would heat up and prickle up to your cheeks as they flushed. He never called you on it, and for a long time you had convinced yourself that he just hadn’t noticed. Because he never said anything, the idea of it actually meaning something was too great to get your hopes up for.

There it was, Josh thought.

That flush of color that darkened your skin whenever he looked at you for too long. It had taken him an embarrassing amount of time to figure out that he was the cause of it, but when he did he would sometimes make you blush on purpose. Maybe it was an ego thing, but he also couldn’t believe you reacted that way to him. He hated the term of someone being out of someone’s league; but even after being in the spotlight for his career and knowing what it felt like when a room full of people swooned at him he still didn’t feel he was in the same universe as yours.

You were always so poised and collected, even during your awkward stage. Whereas he was always pinging off the walls with his endless supply of energy and charm.

Why would you even consider a little shit like him?

The blissful silence was interrupted however, when you saw the door to the bar swing open and a new group of people rushed in to escape the cold. Josh’s back was to the door, but he watched your eyes travel to the side to look behind him, and he didn’t hesitate to whip his head around to see who you were looking at.

Only one of them rang a bell, a dirty blonde in a bright blue winter coat. Was she in his home room? No…but her locker had been on the same hallway as his.

“Is that…?”

“Miranda Sheridan,” you murmured a little too quickly as you turned back to your wine and fiddled with the corner of your book. In all honesty, you didn’t have an issue with Miranda. The two of you had gotten along just fine in school. Well enough that you secured invites to her house from time to time. Well, Josh, had secured invites for you.

“Oh yeah her parents had that huge property!” He excitedly remembered while throwing a gentle wave in her direction.

You hated the way your stomach twisted when she waved back.

Her parents owned a couple of acres out in the county, which wasn’t very elaborate, but it was perfect for a lot of the parties teenagers would get themselves into. Josh particularly remembered her dad had an old toolshed in the back that their friends tried to hot box more than once.

Naturally, her place had been the place to host the main graduation party. You tried to think of anything else, but your mind flooded with the memories of walking around her house with a cliched solo cup, trying to find Josh, your anchor in social situations, and coming up empty and settling on the couch. When you finally laid eyes on him, he was being led by the hand towards the stairs by another girl. No it hadn’t been Miranda, but someone else in your grade that had a very obvious crush on Josh and never tried hiding it.

Josh looked over his shoulder, his tongue between his teeth as he laughed at something someone said as he walked by. His smile faded as soon as he saw you, sitting all by yourself on the couch. His feet were moving for him, but not towards you. He was already ascending the stairs, eyes locked on yours before the girl attached to his arm tugged at his wrist to get his attention and he followed her upstairs and out of sight.

That had been the last time you had seen Josh before tonight.

And by emotional muscle memory, your stomach plummeted just as it had years ago.

Before you could stop it, you bit out, “we went to her graduation party, remember?”

The singer’s head snapped back to face you.

That party.

His voice was quiet, “you…you left early, didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t feeling well.”

He could tell it was a lie. An excuse.

“I just meant…I tried finding you after-”

“After what?” Once again your mouth betrayed you.

The trunk of the elephant in the room was practically wrapping around Josh’s neck, and his chest felt tight.

Even softer, he said “after I came downstairs…”

In response, all you did was hum into your glass as you took another sip, an eyebrow arching like a freshly-awoken cat.

“I had to get home anyway. I had to be on a plane early the next morning.”

That, he remembered. Your parents had surprised you with a trip across the country as your graduation present.

But Josh struggled to find the words of what he wanted to say. He hadn’t even been upstairs for twenty minutes before he finally flew down the stairs to find you, only to see the couch filled with different people and one of your other friends informing him that you had caught a ride back home.

It hadn’t been a complete cut off, the two of you still texted as normal for a few weeks and liked each other's facebook statuses. But the texts became less frequent, and eventually dwindled down to leaving each other on delivered for days at a time. With the band finally starting to take off, and you drowning in your college classes, communication became near impossible.

“Right…”

“Plus I didn’t want to interrupt your night. You were having too much fun up there.”

This time it was Josh’s turn to twist the side of his mouth and quirk an eyebrow, “what exactly do you think I did that night?”

You scoffed slightly and tilted your head, “Josh.”

“No, I want you to say it.”

You stared at him. It felt dumb to get to this point but you weren’t embarrassed. But the same jealousy and adrenaline from that night flooded your system, and after rolling your lip between your teeth you replied,

“You and…whats her name…hooked u-”

“We didn’t hook up,” he said firmly, not blinking.

“Made out-”

“We didn’t make out, either.”

“Well what were you doing up there?” You huffed.

“Don’t get me wrong, she clearly wanted to do both of those things. But before she could even try to kiss me she was doubled over puking all over the bathroom sink. I spent the next few minutes holding her hair while she let it all out. Apparently all of the vodka shots caught up with her.”

You sat there, face unmoving as you took in what he said. For years you had it built up in your head that while you were fleeing that house your best friend was hooking up with someone else.

Now the embarrassment started to creep in.

The quiet tone returned, “I didn’t even like her like that anyway.”

You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you now.

You had to get out of here. This was too much.

“I need to get going,” you began as you started to dig through your purse to pay for your drinks.

Josh was quicker than you and he turned to the bartender and slapped his card down on the bar top and asked to pay for his tab and yours.

“Josh you don’t have to-”

“But I am,” he said firmly, looking at you out of the corner of his eye as he scribbled on the receipts.

That tone…that tone was new coming from him. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t annoyed, but he was being authoritative in a way you hadn’t heard before.

Your insides were squirming for multiple reasons now.

After the bills were settled he faced you again. He wasn’t letting you slip away again. He couldn’t.

“Let me walk you home.”

You slid off the bar stool, “it's only a couple blocks, Josh, you don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

There was again, that tone.

Not wanting to fight anymore, you nodded and the both of you made your way to the exit for your coats. You caught Josh tapping out a quick text to who you assumed was Danny to let him know where he was going.

Silently the two of you slipped outside and into the winter air. The icy breeze stung your face after being used to the heat of the bar. You shivered slightly, but tried not to show it as you turned toward the direction of your house.

Josh shoved his hands in his pockets for warmth, noticing the tiny flakes that had begun to fall from the sky. Had it even been forecasted to snow tonight? In any case, he purposely walked a little closer to you, letting your arms brush together.

“I didn’t know it was supposed to snow tonight?” You wondered out loud.

“Mother Nature is spiteful, that way, I guess.”

He hated how awkward it felt now. How the familiarity and ease of talking to you had evaporated as soon as Miranda Sheridan had chosen that specific bar to walk into.

Soon enough, your house was in view, and your steps picked up the pace to get there faster. Josh followed you into the driveway and to the side of the garage where there were stairs that led up to your room above it. You moved into that space your senior year after your dad had renovated it, and he had only been in it a handful of times before graduation.

Before you could even reach for the rail, Josh’s hand flew out of his pocket and took a hold of yours, gently lacing your fingers with his.

The sudden contact had your heart in your throat.

“You really thought I hooked up with her?” He felt your hand stiffen at his words, but he continued, “as soon as I saw you on that couch, I knew I was making a mistake.”

The flakes started coming down harder now, growing in size as they fell.

“But you still went up there.”

His shoulders sank slightly, “I know…I shouldn’t have though. She wasn’t the girl I liked anyway.”

Denial is a strong thing, and you were letting it win, “she wasn’t?”

“No…I liked someone else but I second guessed myself all the time around her, thinking she’d never be into me anyway.”

“How could you be sure of that?”

Josh’s fingers squeezed your hand, “I don’t know she just…she could do so much better than me and there were plenty of better options out there. Never thought I stood a chance.”

Your jaw started trembling and you weren’t sure if it was from the cold or from what he was implying.

“You really think there are better options than you?” You mirrored his earlier comment back to him.

His eyes slowly met yours, deliberately giving you the look he knew would darken your cheeks.

“So much better…”

“I don’t think so…,” your voice was almost as soft as the snow that was accumulating on the ground around you.

Consequences be damned, you started to lean towards his face.

His long eyelashes fluttered slightly as he realized what you were doing, and he leaned in and gently brushed his full lips against yours.

At the contact, your heart went from hammering in your chest to exploding. Years of daydreaming of this scenario had finally come to an end, culminating in a kiss that had your knees shaky.

He pulled away slightly to look at you again, only to surge forward and slide his free hand up your jaw to cradle your face. His lips pressed against yours even harder, a sudden wave of emotion taking the wheel in Josh’s mind.

The both of you had years of pent up feelings and the dams were breaking.

His other hand reluctantly dropped your hand in favor of wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you closer.

The move took you by surprise, but you relaxed in his arms and tilted your head slightly and parted your lips. Immediately his tongue ran along your bottom lip before delving into your mouth. A low groan rose from his throat and his fans flexed slightly against your cheek.

A gust of wind whipped around you, causing you to shiver against his lips.

“N-need to get you inside,” Josh chuckled, leaning his forehead on yours.

You took a step backwards, resting your foot on the first step.

“Come up with me?”

He answered with a quick kiss on your lips and mumbled, “lead the way…”

With a grin you turned and hurried up the steps, trying your best not to slip in the slush. Your hands shook as you unlocked your door, nearly stumbling inside to escape the cold.

As soon as you had shut the door, Josh pushed you against it and started unzipping your coat and planting his lips on your neck. You made quick work of his too and both outer layers were haphazardly thrown onto a chair in the corner. His icy hands started fiddling with the bottom of your sweater, and you both paused at the silent question of going forward.

He lifted his head out of the crook of your neck to look at you, “we don’t have to if you don’t…I mean we can just hang out if thats all-”

You shushed him by taking his strong jaw in your hands and gave him a searing kiss. He kissed you back as another wave of emotion washed over him.

After letting his lips warm up against yours you pulled back and stared into his eyes, “Josh…this is all I want right now.”

His eyelashes fluttered again, and this time his cheeks were darkening at the look you were giving him.

“You sure?”

“Please…”

Not needing to be told twice, his hands disappeared under your sweater and swept across the skin of your sides. You jolted slightly at how cold they were, but didn’t let it deter you from kissing him again, melting into his touch. His hands slowly rose to cup your breasts through your bra, and the light squeeze had you fighting to keep the low whine in your throat.

Josh noticed you holding back and leaned in to whisper in your ear, “it’s just me…let me hear you…”

The low tone of his voice had your body shivering under his hands and when his teeth grazed the skin of your neck you didn’t even try to hold back the breathy whine you made. Impatiently you helped him get your sweater off of your body, flinging it blindly to the side. You stared at the hungry look in his eyes as you reached behind your back to unhook your bra. Wanting to torture him even further, you purposely took your time letting it slide off your arms and onto the floor. His eyes never left your chest as he reached to take one of your breasts into his hand, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. Before you could fully register the feeling he was bending his head down to replace his fingers with his mouth, moaning into your soft skin. He gave the other side the same attention, before reaching behind you for the zipper to your skirt.

As he knelt down to shimmy it down your hips, you practically clawed at his long sleeve shirt off of him. The lighting in your room was dim, but you were able to see all of the muscles on his body that were definitely not there the last time you saw him. His arms were much more toned than you thought, and his shoulders and chest were defined in a way that had your lip rolling into your mouth between your teeth.

Josh made quick work in getting your boots off, helping you step out of them and your skirt. His eyes flicked up at you and they were so much darker than before. He rose to his feet quickly and slammed his mouth onto yours, squeezing your hips and the back of your thighs as he directed you to jump and wrap your legs around him. With a level of coordination you didn’t know he had, you were spun around while he walked the both of you to your bed. It was still in the same place it always had been, in the corner by the window.

He gently sat you on the edge of the bed, kissing down your body until he was once again knelt before you on the floor. The sight of his blown out pupils and swollen lips sent a flash of heat to your core, and you couldn’t even squeeze your thighs together as he was rolling your tights down your legs and swiftly off your feet.

You never could have anticipated how the night was going to turn out, so your choice in underwear wasn’t the sexiest pair you owned, but that didn’t stop your best friend from planting kisses along the waist band, tentatively dipping his finger tips under the cotton material to start pulling them down. Your breath caught as you raised your hips to help him out, and within seconds your final layer of clothing was added to the pile on the floor.

Looking down at him, you scooted back towards the headboard with your legs shut, and he crawled up the bed after you. With your head settled on your pillow he hovered above you for a moment, bringing his hand to trace along your jaw and down your neck, looking at you in a way you had only dreamed about thus far.

You weren’t going to get emotional, but you couldn’t help it. It was just fully hitting you, as you felt the heat radiate off his body, and the weight of him as he settled on top of you. Thankfully your eyes only welled up a tiny bit, but Josh still noticed and his brow furrowed. His eyes softened and he seemed to sense why you were suddenly still and quiet. He could always guess what you were feeling, even when you were kids.

His thumb brushed your lips so softly you barely felt it, “I know…”

He kissed the corner of your mouth before leaving a trail of kisses down your throat, chest, and stomach. He brushed his lips across the skin right above your core where your curls started to grow. He was so close to where you needed him. Carefully he planted a few kisses on your thighs before drawing your legs up and bending your knees, taking his time in case you changed your mind at any point.

Slowly, he spread your legs apart to finally get a proper look at you, and his breath caught in his throat as your gorgeous core laid bare before him. He was glued to his spot on the bed, eyes sweeping your body, having his own moment of realizing that this was real, and you were actually beneath him like this. His eyes traveled back up to yours, unusually silent for someone who always has something to say, no matter the situation.

Instead, he traveled down the soft flesh of your thigh, leaving searing kisses in his wake. Just when you thought he was going to reach your core, he turned his head to do the same to your other leg. A low whine rumbled in your throat, and you felt his lips spread into a smile against your skin. You felt the faintest huff of breath as he tried to contain a laugh.

His mouth hovered over your core, just out of reach. He wanted to memorize you, every detail, every feature that was so uniquely you. He used his thumbs to slowly spread your lips apart, dumbfounded at just how wet you were for him and how your arousal was beginning to pool and drip off of you.

Your hips twitched in his hands, desperate for any contact beyond his feather-light touches. The way he was looking at your body, with blown out pupils and a parted mouth was only driving you crazier.

At last, he couldn’t hold himself back anymore before dipping his head down to plunge his tongue into your center, moaning as he finally tasted you. A years-long curiosity was answered, and it was better than anything he had tried to imagine.

The vibrations had you involuntarily arching into his face. He wasted no time to begin lapping at your folds, swirling his tongue wherever he could. But when he finally wrapped his lips around your clit, stars exploded behind your eyelids as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Fuck…” was shouted towards the ceiling, and it encouraged him even more as he sucked even harder on your clit as one of his fingers circled your entrance. One of your hands shot down to his hair, tangling your fingers in his curls to hold him in place. His tongue was swirling around your clit now and the finger that had been teasing you slowly entered. Immediately your walls clenched around him, relishing the friction and slight stretch it brought you.

Josh continued to pump and curl his finger inside you as he spoiled your clit with his tongue. He was so hard that his pants were nearly suffocating him, but he ignored it in favor of giving you all of his attention. A second finger joined the first inside you, and he curled them upwards to hit that spot inside you that had your fingers nearly pulling out his hair and grinding against his face. He could feel the muscles in your thighs tense and strain against his ears. You kept trying to close your legs completely around him, but he used his other hand to anchor you down and keep you spread so he could reach you properly.

The spring inside you was coiling tighter and tighter, each drag of his fingertips and swipe of his tongue sent you hurtling closer and closer to the edge.

You were past the point of moaning and could only muster pitiful whines and whimpers. You were so fucking close, and clinging to his fingers so tightly that he could barely move them. He flattened his tongue against your clit, letting your hips grind and chase your high against him for a few seconds before closing his lips around it once more and sucked on it harshly as you shouted his name. His fingers and mouth worked you through it, letting you ride it out and prolong it as best he could. When your clit became too sensitive he peppered kisses along your thighs again, continuing to pump his fingers slower and slower until he was sure he had felt the last twitch and aftershock of your orgasm.

He carefully pulled his fingers from you and immediately brought them to his mouth, savoring your taste while cleaning himself off. You used this moment to pull your hand from his hair and down to his cheek, tilting his gaze to you as you propped yourself up on your other elbow. The moonlight caught the shine of your arousal mixed with the matted facial hair.

Josh quickly sat up on his knees to work at his belt, impatiently sliding off the bed for a moment to fully pull his pants down his legs and off his feet. He was left in his tight boxers, leaving nothing to the imagination as his length pulsed under the fabric.

Now, it was your turn to crawl over to him, your mouth watering as your eyes traveled down his torso and followed his happy trail to the band of his boxers. You reached up and curled your fingers around the elastic, peeling the final layer of clothing down his thighs and let them pool around his ankles.

Your eyes were on his cock now, marveling at just how thick it was. Tentatively you reached your hand up to wrap your fingers around it. The feeling of it twitch slightly against your palm sent a shot of arousal through your body.

He stood stock still at the edge of the bed, his entire body tensing as you touched and felt him. His lower lip was trapped between his teeth and he nearly drew blood when you bent forward and placed a soft kiss on the head. But it was when your lips wrapped around him and your hand slid to the base that his head rolled back on his shoulders and your name escaped his lips.

A drop of pre-cum landed on your tongue and you wanted nothing more to keep going until he was a whiny mess, shuddering under your touch.

All too soon his hips backed away from you, pulling his cock from your mouth as you looked up at his almost apologetic eyes.

“If you keep doing that…”

“But I wanted to keep doing that,” you nearly whined up at him.

He closed his eyes for a second and breathed through his nose, trying to calm himself down.

He looked down at you, dark eyes swimming in desire, “but there’s so much more I want to do with you first…”

He kicked the boxers fully off his feet before kneeling over you on the bed again, flattening you back against your pillows as your legs spread to allow his hips to settle against yours. Briefly his cock was trapped between you, and the feeling of it radiating heat against your skin made you anticipate the next move even more. He captured your lips with his as one of his hands reached down to grip himself, running the head of his cock through your folds and allowing your arousal to coat him before he positioned himself at your entrance.

You took his bottom lip between your teeth and angled your hips towards him, desperate to finally feel him.

Slowly he pushed forward, trying to pace himself so this night wouldn’t end embarrassingly fast.

The way he stretched you as he pushed all the way in had you seeing stars. You felt so full in the best way, like he was made for you.

“S-so tight…” he hissed as he fully sheathed himself inside you, his pelvic bone resting on your clit.

Your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips to keep him in place, wanting him as close to you as possible.

The two of you remained still, getting used to the feeling of one another before Josh’s own needs started to creep up on him. He pulled back out slightly, before pushing back in. He buried his face into the crook of your neck as he began to move, kissing your neck and throat as you mewled at the stretch and drag of his cock. One arm of his framed your head while the other slid underneath you to grip your ass. He tilted your hips this way so that his pelvis was grinding perfectly against your clit as he built up speed.

Your nails dug until the skin of his shoulder blades as you tried to hold onto him. You were still so sensitive from your previous orgasm that your second one was quickly building up inside you. You locked your ankles at the small of his back while your hands reached for his face to crash your lips against his.

At this point he was slamming into you, chasing not only his own high but yours. He needed to feel it. The euphoric squeeze around his fingers earlier wasn’t enough. He needed more. He needed to feel your entire body shudder and quake underneath him; around him. The sound of your bodies colliding with each other was driving him insane.

The hand that had been gripping your ass slid around your hip and snaked between you and his fingers pinched and rolled your clit expertly, making your second orgasm his only priority.

Your back arched at the contact the combined friction of his thick cock and his fingers had you flying off the edge, clamping down around him as you shouted his name again into the air.

“God..fuck…sh-,” expletives tumbled from his mouth as he felt you shake from your orgasm. He tried to hold back but his cock twitched inside you and he bottomed out one last time as his release coated your walls. He tried his best to keep working you through yours, using every synapse in his brain to ignore his own heightened sensitivity.

Eventually, you both came down from your highs and your bodies relaxed against each other and the bed. Your eyes fluttered open to find him staring at you, his face soft like it had been when he had first looked at your body fully. His lips were parted in awe, and you brushed your thumb across them.

“That…should’ve happened a long time ago…” he confessed trying to catch his breath.

“Agreed.”

His mouth formed a smile and his eyes twinkled, “but hey…this time I really did go upstairs with a girl and hooked up with her…”

“Josh!” Your eyes widened and you playfully pushed his shoulder. He laughed into a kiss before turning to look at the door on the far wall of your room.

“Bathroom, right?”

You nodded with a smile and he slowly pulled out of you, hissing at the sensitivity and the cold air hitting his cock. He beelined for the door and you heard water running briefly before he returned with a thankfully warm washcloth to clean the both of you up. He discarded it into the hamper before crawling back into bed with you, gathering your body in his arms under the covers.

The way his breath washed over your neck was so comforting and warm that sleep quickly overtook you and you drifted off while you felt his lips brush your skin.

The next morning, sunlight streamed into your room. Josh was the first to pry his eyes open, and in the silence he took in just how much of a time capsule your room was. The same posters were on your walls, a couple film posters he had given you himself. An obsolete iHome sat on the top of your dresser, surrounded by a collection of jewelry and trinkets that looked familiar to him.

You stirred in his arms, and he rasped in your ear, “Mmm…morning, lover.”

The endearment sent a jolt of adrenaline through you and your eyes shot open. It was real. He was really in your bed, his strong arms holding you as those beautiful eyes looked at you in reverence. Your heart was stuttering in your chest.

“Morning…” you replied, forefinger and thumb capturing his chin and pulling him down for a slow kiss.

For a while the two of you just cuddled in silence, before a buzz from Josh’s pants pocket on the floor alerted him to a text. Reluctantly, he reached down towards the floor to fish his phone out of the pocket. His notifications were a bunch of texts from his brothers asking for his whereabouts and when he was going to grace them with his presence again. Quickly he typed out a few responses, not fully giving away how his night ended up but letting them know he wasn’t lying in a ditch somewhere.

He sighed as he placed his phone on your nightstand.

“I’m being summoned…”

You felt a pang in your heart, the other reality of him eventually leaving hitting you.

He felt you tense in his arms and his brows furrowed, “what’s wrong?”

You turned to face him fully, not wanting to sound needy or clingy, but not knowing how else to put it, “I just…I don’t want you to go…”

“You can come with me if you want! I’m sure my mom would love to see you and Jake-”

You cut him off, “right but…what happens after that?”

He looked confused, “what do you mean?”

You wanted the earth to open up and swallow you at this point, but you needed to know, “what does this mean…?”

Realization formed on his face as he connected the dots, then shyness crept over his features, “what do you want it to mean?”

“We can’t just go back to being friends now…I can’t pretend that this never happened and-.” your chin wobbled a little as you tried to explain yourself, trying to keep your emotions at bay, but remembering how he had literally just called you lover made it impossible.

“I don’t think we can go back to being just friends either…” he started. You started to panic before he continued, “and I don’t have it in me to even try to pretend this never happened. I can’t go back to being a stranger, or just some guy you went to school with.”

“You were never just some guy, Josh…”

He rolled over you, hovering his face above yours, “then maybe…we can see how this goes…?”

You bit your lip, “yeah?”

He smiled, “yeah,” before slotting his lips over yours and giving you the most tender kiss so far. He relaxed on top of you, allowing himself to be wrapped up in your arms as you lazily made out together as the sun slipped behind some clouds and it began snowing again.

Eventually you made it out of bed to shower and get dressed. As Josh donned his outfit from the night before, he couldn’t help but be a little smug at how it would be a dead giveaway to what he had been up to the previous night. But then he remembered who his brothers were.

He looked up hastily as he tied his shoes, “I do have to warn you that my brothers are going to be really annoying about this, but just ignore it.”

You placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “it’ll be fine, Josh.”

He smiled and rose to his feet, kissing you again.

Soon you were carefully making it down the snowy steps, trying to get to your car when Josh froze on the bottom step. You nearly collided with his back when you looked in the direction he was looking at and made direct eye contact with…your father. Your dad was standing on the covered porch, drinking a coffee.

Well fuck.

Josh and your dad seemed to be in a weird staring contest, silently communicating with each other.

You stepped around Josh, hitting your key fob to unlock your car.

“Not exactly what I had in mind when I told you you were always welcome at my house, Josh…”

Your face flushed with embarrassment, “oh my god, Dad…”

Quickly you and Josh bolted to your car, but not before Josh gave a toothy grin and wave at your dad, exclaiming, “nice to see you!” before shutting his door.

You gave him a look as you clicked your seatbelt and started the car.

He threw his hands up. grinning, “what? It could’ve been worse.”

But as you pulled out of your driveway, and pulled up to the first stop sign on the street, Josh reached over the console and took your hand, bringing your fingers to his lips and giving them a soft kiss. The embarrassment from earlier melted away as he gave you that look again.

Your cheeks betrayed you and splotched with red. Inwardly you figured you’d always do that when he looked at you like that, and the thought warmed you instead of bothering you this time.

It wasn’t long before you pulled into Josh’s family driveway. The drive over had been pure muscle memory and comfortable silence between the two of you.

But as you got out of your car, you were met with the all too familiar voice of his youngest brother, Sam.

“Oh my fucking god, I knew it!” He yelled from the top of the driveway.

“Shut up, Sam,” Josh warned as he rounded the car to you and took your hand.

“Shut up, Sam,” the younger brother mocked right back at him, laughing his signature laugh.

But for once, the holidays didn’t seem as daunting now that you had your best friend, Josh, back at your side.

Fin

Tag List: @dannyandthekiszkas , @readyforthegarden , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema, @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal , @myownparadise96 , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmelbourne, @twistedmelodies , @that-witchy-pan , @gold-mines-melting , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface , @childinthegardenn , @char289 , @stardustvanfleet , @sunfl0wer-power , @holdingup-fallingsky , @bladenotblaze , @gretavanlace , @lipstickitty , @jjwasneverhere , @josiee-gvf , @peaceloveunitygvf , @musicislove3389 , @gretavanhockey , @gretavanazula

#josh kiszka #greta van fleet #josh gvf #my fics #my writing #josh kiszka x reader #'tis the damn season #friends to lovers #second chance romance #cozy winter vibes #one shot #enjoy!#🍷🎄

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hadesisqueer · 8 months ago

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I like how Violet is so used to having dramatic ass children that Francesca marrying with no drama was too odd to her lmao. And thinking about how her story will unfold is actually kinda hilarious because it's gonna be like:

Violet: Well, that's it. John is a very good man and Francesca is comfortable and happy with her choice and if this is what she truly wants, it's all that matters💜

Violet: Also, it's kinda refreshing to finally have a normal child that doesn't do any dramatic or scandalous shit.

Francesca a few seasons later after her husband passes: *fucks and falls in love with her husband's cousin -who is a woman-*

Violet:

Violet: Honestly, I should've seen this coming, none of my children will actually ever be normal.

#i would be so done with all of them tbh #daphne and her fake dating #anthony having an enemies to lovers with his fiancé's older sister which honestly so far takes the win as most dramatic and messy lmao #colin would be more normal if it weren't because of his history with marina which was scandalous #and because in his second engagement he literally ruined ANOTHER proposal first and hooked up in a carriage with pen ten minutes later #also he married lw so yeah #let's not even talk about benedict and his stories #and then you have francesca whose first chance is very normal and without drama and damn you think finally a normal bridgerton sibling #and it turns out she was saving all the drama and scandal shit for her second partner #because honestly her being queer and having a story with her late husband's female cousin might even beat kanthony's drama like lmao #bridgerton #violet bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #francesca bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #daphne bridgerton #kanthony #michaela stirling #francesca x michaela

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strwberryblast · 1 month ago

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Second Chance (Suna x Fem!Reader)

•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•••·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•••·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·••

As the gym emptied around him, Suna stood by the side of the court, fingers curling and uncurling around the volleyball he hadn’t let go of. The last echoes of the game still lingered in the air, the shrill of whistles, the soft thud of sneakers on the floor, the quiet murmurs of teammates packing away their bags. But Suna wasn’t listening to any of it. His gaze was fixed on the bleachers, where you sat, your laugh echoing across the gym.

You.

Your presence was like an ache he couldn’t shake, a pain that had taken root in him long before it all fell apart. It wasn’t that he wanted you to see him—not exactly. But just knowing you were there, that you were close enough to feel your warmth even without speaking, made his chest tighten in a way that was almost unbearable.

It had been months since you two broke up. Months since he had pushed you away, afraid of how deep his feelings ran. He thought he could handle it—that he could walk away without looking back, without feeling that gnawing regret. But here he was, still stuck in the same cycle, pretending to be indifferent when all he really wanted was to fix everything, to make it right again.

His fingers twitched around the ball. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. In fact, that’s what scared him the most—that the care was still there, that he missed you more than he was willing to admit.

A part of him told him to walk over to you. To close the distance that had grown between you two over the past few months, to apologize for everything he’d failed to say. But another part—one far stronger—told him to stay where he was. Don’t make a scene. Don’t show weakness. You don’t need to know.

He thought, You’re not ready, not yet.

His breath caught as he glanced at you again, watching you laugh with your friends. You weren’t looking at him, not even once.

His eyes flickered to his teammates, gathering their things, as if they could distract him from the sight of you. But it was useless. He’d seen the way you used to smile at him, the way your eyes lit up when you teased him after practice. The way you used to talk about everything that made you happy, and how he’d just listen, trying to hold on to those moments like they were the only real things in his life.

But now… now everything was different.

He knew he’d messed it all up. But what could he do? What could he possibly say to fix the mess he’d made?

His hand gripped the volleyball harder, the pressure building, until it was almost painful. Why couldn’t he just walk up to you? Why did it feel like every step would be impossible?

The gym was quiet now, save for the rustling of bags being zipped, shoes slapping against the floor as everyone filed out.

And then, for just a second, your eyes met his.

It was brief, like a fleeting moment in time that could easily be ignored, but Suna’s heart skipped a beat. Your gaze held his, just long enough to make the silence between you two feel unbearable.

You didn’t smile. You didn’t say anything. But your eyes… they said enough.

The realization hit him with the force of a wave. He missed you. He missed everything about you—your laugh, your teasing, the way you always made him feel like he mattered, even when he didn’t deserve it.

But what could he do? What could he say after everything he’d put you through?

His fingers still clutched the ball as he turned, walking away from the court, leaving the gym behind. His chest was tight, his head swirling with thoughts he couldn’t make sense of.

Maybe it wasn’t too late, he thought. Maybe you’d hear him out if he tried. But then again, maybe it was.

Maybe he wasn’t ready to face you yet.

—----

Suna lied in his bed, his phone hovered over his face, the light illuminating his dark room. He was looking at your guys messages from the day you broke up.

He taps the screen, staring at the conversation that’s been a constant presence on his phone. He’s gone through it so many times that he knows the words by heart, but it doesn’t stop him from scrolling through again. The little bubble with your name in it seems to glow on his screen, like a beacon of something he can’t quite touch. Something he misses.

He bites his lip, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. Part of him wonders if he’s crazy for even thinking of sending another message. The messages have stopped coming from your end, and the silence is deafening.

[Name] <3 Did you do the homework boo? I completely forgot!!

He laughed, you always forgot to do your homework, no matter how much you’d say you’d remember. He missed that nickname, he missed being your boo.

Suna You forgot again LMFAO? Alsooo no I never do, you know that silly.

[Name] <3 I’m serious though, I can’t even remember what subject it’s for. I’m doomed!!

He runs a hand through his hair. He can almost hear the playful, exaggerated desperation in your voice as you’d say that. He knows you, knows how you’d freak out over the smallest things, even though you always managed to figure it out in the end.

Suna You always forget, it’s honestly impressive. Just wing it like I do.

[Name] <3

If I wing it like you, I’ll be failing every class by the end of the semester!

Suna It’s a strategy. Also, boo, don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll pull it off—just like you always do.

That one always got a smile from you, didn’t it? The way you’d joke back, saying, "Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that."

Suna lingers on this message for a moment. He knows that’s how it used to go. You’d always reply, always play along. The back-and-forth never stopped.

But now… now it’s just silence. The message sits on the screen, and he knows there won’t be a response this time.

Suna types out another message, staring at the words before he deletes them. His heart races a little as he hesitates.

Suna I miss you, you know.

He stops himself right before pressing send. What if it’s too much? What if you don’t want to hear from him anymore? The silence on your end is loud, like a reminder that things aren’t the same anymore. That there’s too much distance between them now, no matter how much he wants to close that gap.

He takes a deep breath and presses delete.

The message stays unsent. He wonders if you still think about him. If, by some chance, you miss him too.

A long pause. The silence stretches across the screen like an echo.

Suna Take care of yourself, [Name].

He’s about to turn off his phone when he notices something odd. A red exclamation point next to the message he just sent. His heart drops into his stomach. He blinks, unsure for a moment, but his fingers tap on the screen again, looking closer. He’s blocked. His stomach twists.

He tries again.

Suna Hey, I’m sorry. I don’t know if you still want to talk to me, but I just… I miss you. I miss us. Please, just talk to me.

The same red exclamation point appears. Blocked.

His thumb hovers again, his heart pounding, but it’s no use. Every message he types gets blocked. He stares at the screen, his chest tight, staring at the notification that won’t go away.

He exhales shakily and leans back, feeling the weight of the moment. He should’ve known, shouldn’t he? He should’ve figured it out before now. But part of him still thought there might be a chance, that maybe he’d get through to you, even just once.

But this is it.

Suna stares at the screen. The last message he can’t send. His last chance to say something that matters.

He turns off his phone, slumping back against his bed. He’d been staring at his phone for longer than he cared to admit, and now, all that’s left is the empty, painful feeling of knowing that he’s been blocked.

The silence stretches around him, and he finally lets his shoulders drop.

It’s over, he thinks. Just like that.

—--- You sat on your bed, your legs pulled up to your chest as you stared at the empty screen of your phone. It had been a few months since the breakup, but the ache still lingered, just as raw as the first night he walked away.

You let out a soft sigh, your fingers tracing the edge of your blanket. Your mind kept circling back to him, and it was like a broken record that you couldn’t turn off. You missed him. You missed him in a way that made your chest ache, made you feel a kind of hollow emptiness you didn’t know how to fill. The worst part was, you knew it was your fault for letting things go on this way. For letting him hurt you. But you also knew you couldn't just ignore it.

But… he broke up with me.

The thought hit you like a wave of cold water. He was the one who ended things. He was the one who walked away. And yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about how it had all used to be. About how much you’d taken for granted, the simple joy of being with him. The silly jokes. The late-night talks. The feeling that, even when life sucked, at least you had each other.

But it wasn’t enough, was it? He’d left, and that was final. That was how it went, how it always went. You break up, you heal, and eventually, you move on. At least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself.

Your fingers twitched as they hovered over the phone. You had blocked him the night it happened, right after the breakup. The very first night. You told yourself it was necessary. It was the only way to protect yourself from the flood of emotions you didn’t want to deal with. Blocking him felt like the only control you had left over the situation. It was a way to cut him out of your life, to give yourself space to breathe without the constant reminders of him popping up in your messages.

But even now, with the distance between you, you felt like you were suffocating.

I miss him, you thought again, clutching your phone tighter. I miss him so much. But… I’m the one who blocked him. I chose to do that. I need to stick with it. I need to move on.

The thought of unblocking him flickered in your mind. Just one peek. One simple look at his name. You knew you could do it, could undo the decision you made in the heat of the moment. The temptation was almost overwhelming.

But would it even change anything? Would it fix things? Would it make everything feel right again?

No, you told yourself, a small frown tugging at your lips. It wouldn’t fix anything. It’d just open everything back up. And I don’t think I can handle that again.

You buried your face in your hands for a moment, feeling the weight of the emotions you were trying so hard to suppress. The sadness, the guilt, the confusion, the lingering sense of love you didn’t know what to do with.

You wanted to scream, but the tears wouldn’t come. Instead, you let out a quiet breath, letting your hands fall to your sides as you looked at the ceiling, the faint sound of traffic outside barely reaching your ears.

The silence felt deafening.

You ran a hand through your hair, chewing on your lip as the familiar ache crept in again. He was the one who ended it. I need to remember that. He’s the one who left. I don’t need to miss him. I can’t.

Your heart clenched painfully at the thought of him, at the little things you used to take for granted—his laugh, the way his eyes would light up when he smiled, the way he always knew how to calm you even when you didn’t want to be calmed.

And it hurts.

It really hurts.

You looked back at your phone, your thumb hovering just above the screen. You thought about all the times you would’ve called him to tell him about your day, to laugh about something silly. Those moments felt like they were in another lifetime now, like something that never really belonged to you in the first place.

But now, it was just this ache. Just this gaping hole in your chest where something used to be.

I want to move on. I have to. It’s over. It was over the moment he said goodbye.

But even as you thought that, even as you tried to convince yourself to let go, a part of you whispered something different. Something that wanted to fix it. Something that wanted to reach out.

You took a deep breath, slowly sliding the phone into your pocket as though that might shield you from the emotions swirling inside. You have made your decision. Blocking him was the right choice.

Even though it didn’t feel like it.

—----

Suna walked into school that day, feeling the weight of the same old routine. The buzz of students in the hallway, the scrape of sneakers on the floor, the noise all around him… it didn’t faze him. He’d gotten used to it by now. But there was something about today that felt off, like there was a subtle shift in the air.

He stepped into the classroom and automatically glanced toward the back, his eyes scanning the seats, almost like it was a habit. His eyes landed on the one person he couldn’t seem to shake. You.

He always noticed you, even when he didn’t want to. It was easier when you were out of sight, when he didn’t have to deal with the tightness in his chest that seemed to come every time he saw you.

You were in the back of the room, doing your best to ignore him, just as you always did. He didn’t blame you for it. After all, he was the one who ended things. He’d messed up, and now he had to live with it.

He couldn’t stop looking at you, even though he told himself not to. The way you were sitting, looking so distant and small, it twisted something inside him. Why’d I have to be so stupid? The thought hit him hard, and he quickly forced his gaze away, pretending he hadn’t just felt that.

At least the seating arrangements helped. You weren’t sitting next to him anymore. It made things a little easier, or at least that’s what he tried to convince himself. There was a distance now, a space that felt almost too big, and yet it wasn’t big enough to get you out of his head. He hadn’t realized how often he’d been distracted by your presence, even just sitting there in the same room. Now that you were out of his immediate sight, it just made everything harder to deal with.

Suna tried to focus on the lesson, tried to keep his eyes forward and not let his mind wander. But he couldn’t ignore the pull to you, like some invisible string that kept drawing him in. Every now and then, he’d glance in your direction, but when your eyes weren’t meeting his, it felt like you were both in different worlds.

He couldn’t help the frustration that bubbled up when he saw you, so far away, so… unreachable. That was the problem, wasn’t it? He had walked away, and now it felt like you were too far to even try to fix things. It’s my fault. I should’ve said something. I should’ve tried harder.

The minutes ticked by slowly, and the noise of the classroom faded in and out of focus. His thoughts kept drifting back to you. What would you say if I just… talked to you? He wanted to ask that, but then what? The question lingered in his mind like a ghost, never finding its way out.

It didn’t help that the room was so quiet, save for the occasional rustling of papers and the soft scratch of pens on paper. But every now and then, he’d hear the sound of your breathing or the faintest sound of your pencil tapping against the desk. It made everything feel so… normal, like you hadn’t gone anywhere. Like you hadn’t been torn from his life so suddenly.

But you had.

And he was the one who made that happen.

The bell rang before he even realized it, and he blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. It was time to go. He stood up, reaching for his bag, and for a moment, he caught your eyes, just for the briefest second. It felt like everything around them froze, even if it was just for a heartbeat. But the moment passed as quickly as it came, and you quickly turned away.

Suna swallowed, trying to ignore the tightening feeling in his chest.

You hadn’t said anything to him, and he hadn’t expected you to. He wasn’t even sure if you ever would again. But seeing you like this, so far away from him… it was harder than he ever imagined it would be. He had blocked you out of his life because he thought it was for the best. But now, with the silence hanging between them, he wasn’t so sure.

He slung his bag over his shoulder and started to walk out of the classroom, his eyes lingering on you one last time. You weren’t looking anymore, but he couldn’t help but wonder if you still cared. If you missed him, too.

You probably hate me, he thought as he stepped into the hallway, the sound of students talking around him, but none of it registering. He just wanted to forget all the words he hadn’t said. The apologies, the things left unsaid.

But there was nothing he could do now, was there? He had let you go, and now he was left with nothing but the empty space between them.

Suna walked down the hallway, his thoughts a tangled mess of regret and frustration. Every step felt like it carried the weight of the decisions he’d made, and he couldn’t shake the image of you from his mind. Even now, after everything, he still couldn’t fully understand what had happened between you both.

He passed by groups of students chatting and laughing, their voices a blur in his ears. It was like everything was happening around him, but he was stuck in this bubble of self-inflicted pain. The emptiness he felt was palpable, and it gnawed at him. I should’ve just tried harder.

I should’ve talked to you.

He wanted to scream, to punch the nearest wall. Anything to release the tension building up inside of him. He knew he’d messed up, but how could he fix it? How could he even begin to make it right when everything between you two felt broken?

Suna paused for a second, leaning against a locker as he let out a deep breath. His hand ran through his messy hair, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. It had been months since the breakup, but the ache hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had only gotten worse.

The memory of the last time he saw you—the way your eyes had avoided his, the way you’d turned away like he wasn’t even there—it was burned into his mind. He’d walked away, yes, but you had too. The block on his phone felt like a wall, an undeniable signal that you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

But then there were moments like today, when he’d caught your eyes for just that split second in class, and it had felt like nothing had changed. Like maybe… maybe there was still something there. But I can’t just show up and fix things, can I?

Suna leaned his head against the locker, staring at the ground. He hated that it was his fault. He hated how easily he pushed you away. And now, all he wanted was to reach out, to say something—anything—that would let you know he regretted it all. But you’d blocked him. He had no way of even reaching you, and that hurt in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

But you won’t unblock me, he thought bitterly. And I deserve that.

The bell rang again, signaling the end of the passing period. He straightened up, forcing himself to move. As he walked toward his next class, his mind kept circling back to you.

The hallway cleared out, and he found himself outside the classroom door. His eyes wandered over to the door next to his, where you had just entered. You were in there, and he was just a room away, separated by nothing but walls and time.

If only it were that simple…

He walked into his classroom, feeling the same distance between you two, but this time it felt heavier. The silence was suffocating.

As he took his seat, he glanced toward the back, but you weren’t there. You’d gone into your own world, and he couldn’t blame you. He had given you no reason to stay. You’d been nothing but patient, caring, and understanding… while he had been selfish. He had been stupid.

The teacher began talking, but Suna wasn’t really paying attention. His eyes wandered again, his gaze falling on the spot where you usually sat. It was empty.

He was a fool.

And no matter how much he wished things were different, he couldn’t change what had happened. He couldn’t take back the harsh words, the cold distance, or the way he’d pushed you away.

But still, even now, even when he knew he had no right to hope, he couldn’t help but wonder if, maybe, just maybe, you were thinking about him too.

Would you ever forgive him? Would you ever open the door just a crack and let him back in? Would things ever be the same?

Probably not, he thought, clenching his fists. But I can’t let go. I can’t.

—---

Suna sat slumped in his seat, drumming his fingers absentmindedly against the desk. His eyes were unfocused, staring at the wood grain, but his mind was anywhere but here. This was so stupid. The way everything had spiraled out of control. The way he’d convinced himself he was fine, that it was the right decision. But now, months after the breakup, it felt like the weight of it was finally crashing down on him.

Why hadn’t he just talked to you? Why hadn’t he said anything instead of walking away with nothing but silence in the air? It didn’t make any sense. It was like a brick wall had been built between you both, one that he had put up, and now he was stuck on his side of it, unable to break through.

His fingers drummed faster, almost as if it could distract him from the gnawing feeling of regret eating at him. Why now? he thought, rubbing his temples. Why after all this time?

Was he really that in denial? Had he pushed it all away, pretending it didn’t matter? He’d kept telling himself that the distance was for the best, that moving on was the only way to stop thinking about you. But that didn’t make the ache in his chest go away. It didn’t make the little voice in his head stop wondering if you were thinking about him too, if you missed him the way he missed you.

Suna couldn’t help it—he was tired of this. Tired of pretending it didn’t hurt. But even now, after everything, he didn’t know how to fix it. Didn’t know how to reach out without feeling like an idiot.

The sound of the lunch bell ringing broke through his spiraling thoughts, and for a second, he blinked, coming back to reality. The chatter of students filled the room, their excitement cutting through the heavy silence that had settled in his chest. He sighed, pushing his chair back as the crowd started to move toward the door.

He stood up slowly, letting the noise of everyone else filter in, but his mind stayed on you. He wondered if you’d be in the cafeteria, if you’d see him at all. Would you even look his way? Or had you already moved on?

He couldn’t keep avoiding this. He couldn’t keep pretending he wasn’t thinking about you every damn second. His stomach twisted at the thought of you being out of his reach. And maybe, just maybe, this whole stupid act of trying to act unaffected was just a way to protect himself from the truth—that he still wanted you back. He still missed you.

But how could he fix what was already broken? How could he take back all the time they’d lost, the words that hadn’t been said?

Suna let out a breath, trying to shake off the thoughts as he joined the stream of students heading for the cafeteria. The door to the hallway swung open, and for a brief moment, his gaze flickered toward your direction—just a quick glance, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you’d be there.

But you weren’t.

The pang of disappointment hit him harder than expected, and his shoulders slumped. He had to remind himself—this wasn’t about you seeing him. This wasn’t about getting your attention anymore. It was about fixing what he had broken. Fixing himself first, before trying to fix anything between you.

But damn, it was hard.

The lunchroom was loud, crowded with voices and laughter, but he barely noticed any of it. His thoughts were still with you, stuck in the past, wondering if you were still somewhere thinking about him too. But I can't reach out. I'm blocked.

And with that, the walls he built up between you both came rushing back into his mind.

Suna sat down at the table with his usual group, a slumped posture, one elbow resting on the table while his fingers drummed absently. He was trying to pay attention, trying to pretend that the world wasn't spinning out of control around him. His friends—Osamu, Atsumu, and Aren—were all talking, but none of it registered. His thoughts kept circling back to you.

It had been months since the breakup, but that didn’t stop him from wondering why, how, he’d let it go so far. Why he hadn't just talked to you when things had started falling apart. But no. He had pushed you away. The distance had come and now… well, now he was left with a heavy silence and a heart that ached in all the wrong places.

Across the cafeteria, he spotted you. His stomach tightened. You were walking toward their table, and everything in his chest screamed to do something—anything—but he sat there, paralyzed.

You weren’t looking at him. No. You were heading straight for Atsumu, and the way you looked at him made Suna feel like he was invisible.

He tried not to notice the way your eyes sparkled when you saw Atsumu. How you made your way over to him with that casual grace, your presence drawing everyone’s attention as you slid into the seat across from him.

"Hey, Atsumu," you greeted, with a soft smile, as you dropped your tray on the table and sat down.

Atsumu, always the one to react to everything a little more than necessary, smirked as he leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “Well, well, look who decided to grace us with her presence today.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “What, you don’t miss me? I thought I was your favorite person to talk to during lunch.”

Atsumu threw a dramatic hand to his chest. “Of course you are. You’re the only one who can keep up with my level of awesomeness.” He leaned in further, clearly enjoying the attention. “But seriously, how’ve you been? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Suna could feel the tension building in his chest as he stared down at the table, his fingers still tapping, too fast now, like he couldn’t keep still. You were talking to Atsumu like everything was fine, like things were normal, but nothing was normal. And even though he hadn’t said anything to Atsumu about it—he didn’t need to—he could tell Atsumu noticed, too.

Suna could see his best friend’s gaze flicker over to him for a moment before quickly looking back at you. Atsumu wasn’t oblivious. He’d known about the breakup, and he was well aware that there was still tension in the air between Suna and you. It wasn’t something either of them had openly discussed yet. Atsumu, being the kind of guy who liked to keep things breezy, probably didn't want to bring it up outright. But Suna could feel the weight of it.

“Not much, just, you know, surviving.” You shrugged lightly, pushing your food around with your fork. “Been a bit busy with school and all.”

Suna’s chest tightened again. Surviving. That’s what you called it now. You weren’t living, you were surviving. And somehow, that hit harder than anything.

“I get that,” Atsumu replied with a grin, but there was something in his voice that wasn’t quite his usual teasing. He was softer now, like he was trying to read you. Suna, however, could see that it wasn’t just concern—it was something more. There was something in Atsumu’s eyes when he looked at you, something that Suna couldn’t quite pinpoint but definitely recognized.

Atsumu cleared his throat, trying to shift the focus away from the silence that hung between the three of them. “Yo, how’s that physics homework treating you? Got all those problems figured out or what?”

You smiled at the change in topic, clearly relieved by the distraction, but your eyes never left Atsumu’s as you replied. “Barely. But I think I’m getting there. You know how I like to figure it out on my own.”

Suna could see Atsumu’s eyes linger just a little too long on you before he smirked. “Well, if you want, I can give you a hand. I’m a genius when it comes to math.”

You chuckled, clearly amused. “Yeah, right. You always say that, and then you end up just confusing me more.”

Atsumu grinned back, but there was a softness there now, something Suna hadn’t seen from his friend before. Atsumu had always been outgoing, always eager to tease and flirt, but right now, he was giving you a look that was almost… sincere.

Suna’s stomach twisted, and he tried to ignore it. He didn’t know why he was feeling like this—why his chest felt so tight every time you smiled at Atsumu. He shouldn’t be jealous, shouldn’t be annoyed by it. He was the one who’d pushed you away.

But then you casually leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand as you smiled at Atsumu. “I’ll take my chances without your genius, thanks. I don’t need you giving me a headache on top of everything else.”

Atsumu threw his head back and laughed loudly. “Ouch, that hurt.” He put a hand to his chest like he was wounded, but the smile never left his face. It was the kind of look that Suna used to get—before he’d screwed everything up.

Suna glanced at his friends, but no one seemed to notice the way his gaze flickered back and forth between you and Atsumu. Osamu was lazily eating his lunch, Aren was on his phone, scrolling through something, but no one was noticing how the air around him had thickened with something unspoken.

And then, like a punch to the gut, Atsumu turned to him, giving him that slight knowing look. “Yo, Suna, you in this conversation or you just planning to stare at the wall today?”

Suna blinked, breaking his gaze from you and finally meeting Atsumu’s eyes. It was then he realized that Atsumu had noticed. He wasn’t blind, and neither was Suna. It was no secret that Atsumu had a thing for you, not that you noticed.

“Yeah,” Suna muttered, trying to sound casual, though his voice was thick with something he couldn’t place. “Just thinking.”

Atsumu raised an eyebrow but didn’t push the subject any further. He knew better than to prod when Suna was like this.

Instead, you spoke up again, your voice light and teasing, as if everything was fine. “You’re still gonna help me study next week, right?”

Atsumu grinned. “Of course. I’m always here for you.”

But Suna couldn’t help the bitter feeling that crawled up his throat as he heard those words. They were his. They were supposed to be his promises, his assurances. But now, they were nothing more than an echo in a room full of empty spaces.

He watched as you walked away, your back turned to him, a slight sway to your steps as if you were trying to avoid anyone noticing how much you didn’t want to be here. Maybe it was just out of boredom or the awkwardness that hung in the air, but either way, it was painfully clear you didn’t want to stick around. You had already decided you weren’t going to stay where you didn’t feel comfortable, and that place wasn’t with him anymore.

His gaze lingered on you, his chest tightening, unable to pull his eyes away. He missed you—so much. And even though he knew it was his fault, even though he knew this wasn’t something he could easily fix, it still hurt to watch you walk away like it was nothing. You didn’t even glance back, didn’t pause to acknowledge him, like you’d already let him go long before he ever had the courage to let you go.

Osamu smacked Atsumu on the back of the head, the sharp sound breaking Suna from his thoughts. Atsumu flinched and let out an exaggerated “Ow!” rubbing the spot where Osamu had hit him.

"Focus, Atsumu," Osamu scolded, not even looking up from his food. “Quit acting like a dog in heat around [Name].”

Suna didn’t react. He didn’t even look at them. His eyes remained fixed on the spot where you’d been standing, the seat now empty. The space around him felt cold, void of the usual banter, the easy comfort he once felt whenever you were near. Now it just felt… hollow.

He should’ve been better. Should’ve tried harder. He should've known that ignoring his own feelings, that pushing you away in the name of pride, was never going to work. And now it was too late.

Atsumu, still rubbing the back of his head, glanced over at Suna, probably noticing that he wasn’t paying attention. He let out a small sigh, and though his voice was casual, there was an edge of something in it. “Yo, you good, Suna?”

Suna barely blinked. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice almost flat, lacking any of the usual bite. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at Atsumu, not with the knot in his stomach, the jealousy gnawing at him in a way he didn’t want to admit.

Atsumu, oblivious to the internal turmoil Suna was trying to hide, just chuckled and nudged Osamu. “Suna’s fine. He’s just being moody.”

Osamu gave him a sideways look, but his gaze shifted back to Suna, who was still lost in his thoughts. "Maybe. Or maybe he’s still thinking about what happened. You know, with… you know, her."

Suna's chest tightened. Osamu’s words were like a physical blow. He knew it was inevitable that they’d have to talk about it at some point. Everyone knew what had happened, but the last thing he wanted right now was to talk about it—especially with Atsumu.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Suna muttered, pushing his chair back and standing up, feeling the need to get away from all of this.

Suna stared down at the table, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air. His thoughts were still tangled up in you, in everything that had happened, in the silence that had settled between the two of you since the breakup. He wasn’t sure why it was hitting him so hard now—months after the fact—but the absence of your presence had carved a hole that felt impossible to fill.

As if on cue, Osamu and Atsumu noticed the tension hanging in the air and decided to steer the conversation in a new direction.

“Hey, so, I’m having a party this weekend,” Osamu said casually, leaning back in his chair and flashing a knowing look at Atsumu. “You wanna come?”

Suna blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the shift in the conversation. A party. The distraction of a big, loud event. It was exactly what he needed. Maybe it would help him forget, even for just a few hours. He glanced up at his friends, still feeling that tightness in his chest.

He hadn’t realized just how suffocating the last few months had been until now. He’d buried himself in volleyball, in school, in all the little distractions life offered, but now, the weight of everything—especially you—was starting to break through. Maybe a big party would help him forget.

Suna let out a small sigh, rubbing the back of his neck before he nodded. “Yeah. I could use a break. Sounds like a good distraction.”

Atsumu, who had been waiting for this moment, grinned wide. “Hell yeah, man. It’s gonna be a big one. Lots of people. Don’t even think about bailing last minute. You need to get out of your head, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Suna said quietly, feeling the exhaustion in his bones. “I think I do.”

Osamu raised an eyebrow, giving him a quick once-over. “You sure about this? I’m not throwing some small get-together. It’s gonna be loud. A lot of people from school are coming. Some you might not wanna see.”

Suna’s eyes flicked to Osamu, his thoughts still swirling. He knew what he meant—people who might remind him of her, of you. You’d been his first love, his first girlfriend. The one who made him believe that maybe love wasn’t just some complicated thing he’d read about in books. You were his first everything, and losing you—walking away from each other, all of it—had been harder than he was willing to admit. The breakup had shaken him more than he ever thought it would, and now it felt like he was struggling to put the pieces back together.

He couldn’t keep hiding from it.

But the idea of being surrounded by people, of not having to face the silent gap between the two of you, was too tempting. A distraction, an escape—just for a while.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he said with a little more conviction than he felt. “I can handle it.”

Atsumu’s grin stretched even wider, clearly satisfied with the answer. “That’s the spirit! You’re gonna have a blast, man. You need it.”

Suna thought back to the last party he went to, which had been months ago before everything had unraveled between you two. The laughter, the music, the chaos—it all felt so distant now. And yet, here he was, agreeing to go to another one, hoping maybe the night would help him forget. Maybe just for a little bit.

“You’re bringing anyone?” Osamu asked, eyeing him closely.

Suna hesitated. The thought of showing up alone felt heavy, but he didn’t know who else to invite. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t there to make new memories with anyone. He just needed a change of scenery.

“Probably not,” Suna muttered, his voice betraying him with its uncertainty. “I don’t think I’ll bring anyone.”

“Alright,” Atsumu said, his voice teasing but understanding. “As long as you don’t stand in a corner and brood all night, we’re good.”

Suna gave a half-hearted chuckle, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. His gaze wandered again, his mind drifting back to you.

You—his first love. His first everything.

The thought of seeing you there, mingling with people, laughing with others… it wasn’t something he was ready for, not after everything. The idea of you moving on, of someone else getting to have the things that were once his—it made his chest tighten.

“Okay, well,” Osamu said, cutting through the silence that had fallen between them, “we’ll see you there, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Suna said softly, his mind far away. “I’ll be there.”

And as the conversation shifted back to other topics, Suna remained lost in his thoughts. The party, the music, the noise—none of it would drown out the questions that kept swirling in his mind. But maybe for a night, he could pretend. Pretend that he wasn’t still haunted by the ghost of his first love. Pretend that everything hadn’t come crashing down around him.

Maybe he could find some peace in the chaos.

He wasn’t sure yet. But he was going to try.

—-----

It was Saturday at 10 p.m., and Suna had just arrived at the party. The music thumped from the house as he walked up the driveway, the noise growing louder with each step. He could already feel the weight of the night pressing down on him, his thoughts still tangled in a mess of things he wasn’t ready to face.

Osamu had made sure Atsumu wouldn’t invite you. Out of respect, he’d said, or maybe it was just easier this way. Suna wasn’t sure which, but the fact that you weren’t here felt like a relief—and a burden all at once.

The house was already crowded. People were milling about, laughing, talking, a few clinking glasses together. A couple of familiar faces waved in his direction as he stepped inside, but Suna didn’t feel the usual ease he normally would in this kind of crowd. Tonight, it felt different. Tonight, the noise, the chatter, the flashing lights—all of it felt suffocating. It was almost too much.

He pushed through the crowd, trying to find his friends, trying to shake off the feeling that he didn’t belong here. The weight of everything was still there—heavy and unrelenting. The thought of you not being here, of you not being part of his life in the way you used to be, it hit him harder than he thought it would.

When he found Osamu and Atsumu, they were leaning against the kitchen counter, talking to a few other people, laughing about something Suna couldn’t quite hear over the noise. Atsumu caught sight of him first, grinning wide as he waved him over.

“Yo, Suna! You finally made it!” Atsumu called over the music, his voice excited.

Suna gave a small wave in return, trying to mask the weight in his chest. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“You good, man?” Osamu asked, raising an eyebrow, noticing the lack of enthusiasm in Suna’s expression.

Suna nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just… tired, I guess.”

Atsumu gave him a knowing look. “It’s all good, bro. It’ll loosen up once you’ve had a drink or two. Come on, let’s get you something.”

He grabbed Suna’s arm and led him toward the drink table, shoving a cup into his hand without asking if he wanted it. The familiar sting of alcohol as it slid down his throat made Suna grimace, but he didn’t care. He needed something to numb the ache that was sitting heavy in his chest, something to wash away the thoughts of you.

He glanced around the room again, half expecting to catch a glimpse of you. To see you laughing with friends, or just standing in the corner like you used to, smiling at him in that way that made his chest feel lighter.

But you weren’t here. You weren’t anywhere.

And that felt both like a relief and a stab to the heart.

Atsumu leaned closer, breaking Suna out of his spiral. “You’re looking at everyone like you’re waiting for someone, man.”

Suna shook his head quickly, not wanting to be caught. “No,” he muttered. “Just… thinking.”

Osamu raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharp. “About what?”

Suna shrugged, trying to play it off. “Nothing. It’s just… weird being here without her, you know?”

Atsumu’s expression softened for a second, before he grinned again. “Man, I know. But you gotta stop thinking about it. You’re here now. Just… enjoy yourself. Have a little fun.”

Suna let out a small laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Yeah. Fun."

He took another sip from the cup, the bitter taste doing little to dull the gnawing feeling that lingered in his chest. It was so hard, being here—surrounded by people, but feeling so alone. He couldn’t help but think about what could’ve been, what it used to be like when you were around.

Before everything fell apart.

Before he let his pride and fear destroy the one thing he truly cared about.

The music blared on, and Suna tried his best to push those thoughts down, to let the night wash over him like the drink in his hand. But deep down, he knew it wouldn’t be that simple. Nothing ever was.

Suna walked into the party, his mind a whirlwind of frustration. The last few months had been a mess, and he had no one to blame but himself. Sure, it was supposed to be a night to forget about everything, but his thoughts kept circling back to you.

The music was loud and filled the room, and people were laughing and shouting, but Suna couldn’t feel any of it. He was too stuck in his own head. He had messed up. He had been stupid. And the worst part was, he was still stupid. He still missed you. Every day, every hour, every minute.

And now, you weren’t even here. Osamu had made sure you weren’t invited to this party—out of respect, he’d said, because things were still too tense.

Suna found his way to the drink table, needing something to calm the chaos in his mind. He grabbed a beer, but it didn’t do anything to stop the ache in his chest.

“Yo, Suna!” Atsumu’s voice called from across the room. Suna blinked and turned, seeing Atsumu waving him over with a grin plastered on his face. Suna didn’t even feel like putting on a fake smile. He just walked over, glass in hand.

“You finally show up? Thought you were gonna sit this one out,” Atsumu teased, already clearly a little drunk. His eyes had that gleam to them, like he was expecting Suna to join in on the fun.

Suna grunted in acknowledgment, taking a long drink from his cup before speaking. “Needed a distraction.”

Atsumu gave him a curious glance, but shrugged. “Well, you’re in luck. Everyone’s out here living it up. No one’s got time for feelings tonight.” He gave a loud, exaggerated laugh.

Suna didn’t join in. The weight of you—of everything that had happened—sat on his chest. But he wasn’t about to spill that to Atsumu. Not here, not now.

Atsumu glanced around the room, then turned back to Suna. “I gotta admit, though, man,” he started, a grin spreading on his face. “You’re a hell of a lot quieter than usual tonight. Maybe because of her?”

Suna stiffened at the mention of you, but didn’t respond immediately. He took another sip of his drink, hoping to drown the knot in his throat.

Atsumu, noticing the silence, laughed again, but it was a little more knowing this time. “Yeah, I know, man. You and [Name]. That was… something, huh?”

Suna clenched his jaw, not wanting to open that door, but Atsumu didn’t seem to care. He was too drunk, too comfortable, and too eager to make his point.

“I get it, you know,” Atsumu continued, cocking an eyebrow at him. “You pushed her away. I was there. I saw it. You said you didn’t need her anymore. And now you’re all mopey about it.”

Suna’s stomach twisted at the words. He didn’t need to hear this. He already knew he messed up. He was already paying for it.

But Atsumu was still going, oblivious to the way Suna’s frustration was building. “Man, I don’t get why you’re acting like this now. You had your chance. And now, I’ve got my chance.”

Suna’s eyes snapped to Atsumu. “What are you talking about?”

Atsumu didn’t miss a beat. He leaned in closer, his grin widening. “You heard me. I always liked [Name], you know. Even when you were with her. I didn’t say anything because I respected you, man. But now? Well, I guess it’s my turn.”

Suna’s grip on his drink tightened, his knuckles going white. His heart raced, and anger began to rise in his chest. He wanted to say something, do something—anything—but the words were stuck in his throat.

“Stop it,” Suna finally spat, his voice low. “Don’t act like you have any right to do that. You were always in the background, Atsumu. You never cared about her the way I did.”

Atsumu raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed. “I think I care a hell of a lot more than you ever did. At least I don’t pretend to push her away when I don’t mean it. You ended it, man. You made your choice.”

Suna’s blood ran hot. “You don’t know anything about it.”

“I know more than you think,” Atsumu shot back, eyes narrowing. “You let her go. You made that choice. And I’m the one here that’s gonna make things right with her.”

Suna’s heart pounded, his hands shaking from the mixture of alcohol and anger. “Don’t you dare,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

But Atsumu didn’t seem to care about the warning. He crossed his arms and shrugged. “Too late. She’s already been talking to me. And honestly? You had your chance.”

Suna’s chest tightened, like someone had just pressed a hand over his heart. He wanted to yell, to scream, to get his point across, but everything felt like it was slipping away from him.

“You’re not going anywhere near her, Atsumu,” Suna said, his voice quiet now. His fingers dug into the edges of the cup, the plastic crumbling under the pressure. “She’s not some prize for you to win.”

Atsumu rolled his eyes and gave an exaggerated sigh. “Relax, man. I’m not gonna screw this up. You already did.”

Suna couldn’t take it anymore. The anger that had been bubbling under the surface exploded, and before he knew it, his fist was in the air, swinging toward Atsumu’s chest. It was a sloppy punch, the alcohol in his system making everything feel off, but it landed hard enough to make Atsumu stumble back, surprised.

“Hey!” Atsumu shouted, pushing Suna back with a shove. “What the hell, man?!”

Suna stood his ground, chest heaving with frustration, his pulse racing. “I don’t care if you think you’re in the right, Atsumu. You don’t get to just—”

“Don’t make this about me,” Atsumu cut him off, throwing a right hook at Suna harshly. “You broke up with her. You let her go. You can’t get mad at me for moving on.”

Suna steadied himself, still feeling the sting of the punch. His breath came out in uneven gasps, his body buzzing with adrenaline and alcohol. But he wasn’t done. Atsumu stood there too, just as messed up from the fight, but neither of them was ready to back down. The alcohol had blurred their thoughts, making it harder to tell where the line between play and anger was drawn.

“Get up,” Atsumu said, pushing Suna lightly, as if daring him to start another round.

Suna glared, wiping the blood off his lip with the back of his hand. He could barely focus, but the anger inside him was still burning. “You think you're tough? Let’s go again.”

Before Atsumu could say anything, Suna lunged, swinging at him again. Atsumu barely had time to react as Suna’s fist grazed the side of his cheek.

“I’m still standing, don’t think you’ve won yet!” Atsumu growled, throwing his own punch that landed squarely in Suna’s chest. The impact was enough to make Suna stumble back but not fall.

The two of them were laughing, though it wasn’t out of humor—it was frustration, raw and real. The sounds of their breathing, their slurred words, and their uncoordinated movements were a strange mix of intensity and play. They were both drunk, both angry, and both missing something—someone.

Suna gritted his teeth, still reeling from the punch, but he wouldn’t back down. “You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he slurred, smirking through his pain.

“Oh, trust me, I will,” Atsumu sneered, stepping forward. He was still a little unsteady on his feet, but the alcohol only made his confidence grow.

Suna darted forward again, this time more recklessly, throwing another punch at Atsumu’s side. Atsumu caught his wrist mid-swing, twisting it and forcing Suna to step back, but Suna gritted his teeth and shoved him off with a sharp push.

“Damn it, Suna, stop being so stubborn!” Atsumu growled, swinging again, landing a punch to Suna’s side. The blow made Suna cough, but he barely flinched.

“Look who's talking,” Suna retorted, wiping his mouth. “You don’t get to lecture me. You think I don't know what you want? You think I didn’t see the way you looked at her? How you act around her?”

Atsumu’s eyes darkened, the anger now mixing with something else—something deeper. “And what, huh?” He shoved Suna again, this time with more force. “You want to blame me for everything? You’re the one who fucked up with her. Not me. I didn’t do shit!”

Suna felt his chest tighten. He knew Atsumu had a point, but it still hurt to hear. "I didn’t do shit either," he muttered under his breath, fists clenching at his sides. “I should’ve… I should’ve fought for her. Instead, I pushed her away. Now look what I’ve got. Nothing.”

The room felt heavy for a moment, the noise of the party fading into the background as the two stood there, glaring at each other, breathing hard.

Then Atsumu shook his head, letting out a drunken laugh. “Damn, you’re such a loser, Suna.”

Suna's expression shifted, not from offense but from exhaustion. He wasn’t tired of the fight, he was tired of carrying this weight. The one he had pushed away. The one he had taken for granted. He didn’t care about the stupid brawl anymore.

You rushed into the room, heart pounding, only to freeze in the doorway at the sight before you. Suna was on the floor, a bit dazed, his lip split and bruised, his hair falling messily around his face. Atsumu was standing over him, hands raised like he was still ready to throw another punch.

“What the fuck are you guys doing?!” you exclaimed, voice laced with panic and disbelief.

Suna was barely registering your presence, his eyes unfocused, swaying slightly. Atsumu looked startled, realizing you had caught the scene, but there was still tension between him and Suna, like the argument was far from over.

Atsumu stepped back, glancing over at you with an awkward, defensive grin. “It’s not what it looks like, [Name],” he muttered, hands raised in mock surrender.

You shot him a glare, eyes flicking from him to Suna, who was still on the ground, now rubbing his sore jaw. His face looked tired, but there was a sadness behind his eyes that wasn’t just from the fight. Your chest tightened. It wasn’t just the alcohol or the fight—it was something deeper.

“Suna…” you whispered, dropping to your knees in front of him, your hands hovering around his shoulders, unsure of how to help. “What the hell, you’re bleeding…”

Suna’s gaze slowly met yours, and for a split second, it felt like everything else faded away. He blinked a couple of times, his expression shifting from confused to something almost vulnerable.

“Guess I’m a mess,” he mumbled, trying to joke, but his voice was rough, and he couldn’t hide the regret that crept into his eyes.

You didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t the Suna you remembered—the confident, distant guy who always acted like nothing phased him. This was someone who had been knocked down, physically and emotionally. Someone who wasn’t sure how to deal with what he’d done.

You sighed softly as you helped him up, his body leaning heavily against yours. He was drunk, disoriented, and still a little dazed from the fight. With careful steps, you guided him through the hallway, away from the noise of the party, until you reached the bathroom. You nudged the door open with your shoulder, and gently helped him sit down on the toilet, his body sagging with exhaustion.

"Stay here for a second," you muttered, your voice softer than you intended, but you didn't have the energy to sound stern. You didn't know what to say to him right now, but you didn't want to leave him alone, either.

Suna leaned back, his head resting against the wall, his eyes half-lidded as he stared at nothing in particular. He let out a slow exhale, looking like he was still trying to process everything that had just happened.

You turned away, grabbing a damp washcloth from the sink and walking back over to him. The moment you were close, you could smell the alcohol on his breath and see the pained look in his eyes, as though he didn’t quite know what had gotten him to this point.

"You're a mess, you know that?" You said softly, dabbing the cloth against his split lip, trying to stop the bleeding. He winced slightly, but didn't pull away.

"I know," Suna mumbled, voice hoarse. "I'm sorry, [Name]."

You paused for a second, your hands still on his face, and glanced up to meet his eyes. There was something there—a vulnerability he usually hid so well. "Don't apologize," you muttered, even though you felt like you should say more. You couldn’t find the right words, so you simply focused on wiping away the blood from his lip.

There was a heavy silence between you two, and you could hear the muffled sounds of the party outside, but inside this little bathroom, it was just the two of you.

You gently wiped the corners of his mouth before dropping the cloth in the sink and turning back to him. “Just… stay here for a while, okay?” You added, looking down at him, his messy hair sticking to his forehead as he slumped forward slightly.

Suna didn’t respond immediately. He just nodded, eyes closed again, as though the moment was enough to drain him further. You sighed, running a hand through your own hair. Part of you still wasn’t sure why you were doing this, why you were helping him so easily after everything, but another part of you—some part you couldn’t quite shake—just couldn’t stand to see him like this.

After a while, you stepped away, leaning against the counter. “You’ll be okay,” you added quietly, more to yourself than to him.

Suna’s quiet reply made your heart ache more than it should’ve. "I hope so."

You looked down to notice his shaking hands, his knuckles cracked and raw from the fight. A small frown tugged at your lips, your heart sinking at the sight. Without a word, you walked over to the mirror cabinet above the sink, opened it, and grabbed a few band-aids.

“Here…” you said softly as you returned to his side, kneeling down in front of him. You gently took his hand, his fingers cold and unsteady, and carefully placed the band-aids over the cracked skin of his knuckles. The soft motion felt strangely intimate, your hands working to tend to him, even if he didn’t fully deserve it.

Suna’s eyes were half-lidded, lost in thought, but he didn’t pull away. He didn’t speak either, just let you work, his shoulders hunched as if the weight of everything was pressing down on him.

When you finished, you looked up at him, your voice barely a whisper. "You should take care of yourself, Suna. I know you’re not… okay."

He didn’t respond immediately, just looked at you with that tired expression, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t. His eyes lingered on you for a moment, and you couldn’t help but feel the distance between you two in that look. It had been a long time since he’d let anyone see him like this—vulnerable and cracked, the mask he usually wore slipping.

He finally let out a small, resigned sigh, his voice quiet. "I know."

You stood there for a second, unsure of what to do next. You hadn’t planned on this—on him being like this—but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave him, not when he was like this.

You start to head out of the bathroom, trying to give him some space to breathe.

You paused in the doorway, your hand resting on the handle as you heard his voice—so quiet, almost swallowed by the silence of the room. His words hung in the air, like a secret he wasn’t sure he was ready to admit, but couldn’t stop from escaping anyway.

"[Name]… I really do miss you."

Your heart twisted in your chest, but you didn’t turn around. You couldn’t. Not now. Not when everything was still so messy and unresolved between the two of you. The memories of the past—of everything that led to this moment—flooded your mind, and for a second, you almost forgot to breathe.

But then his voice broke the silence again, this time quieter, almost self-mocking.

"That’s just the alcohol talking."

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, feeling a pang of sadness and frustration. You wanted to say something, anything, to ease the tension, but the words didn’t come. Instead, you just stood there, your back to him, and let the silence settle between you.

Suna’s confession hung in the air, lingering like an unspoken truth neither of you were brave enough to face fully. The alcohol was speaking, yes, but maybe there was truth in it too. Maybe the weight of everything he’d been avoiding had finally caught up to him, and now, in the quiet of the moment, he couldn’t deny it.

You took a slow, shaky breath, finally turning to face him. You didn’t want to show him how much his words had affected you. Not yet. "I’ll get you water," you said, your voice steady, even though inside, you felt like a storm was brewing.

You turned back just as Suna’s hand reached out towards you. His fingers trembled slightly, his bruised knuckles a painful reminder of the chaos from earlier. He winced as his hand straightened, as if the simple motion hurt more than it should. His eyes were locked on yours, though there was a quiet vulnerability in his gaze that you hadn’t seen in a long time.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The space between you seemed like a chasm, but Suna’s outstretched hand remained, as if he was waiting for you to bridge that gap.

You hesitated, but the longing in his eyes made you pause. The familiar ache in your chest only deepened, and you found yourself stepping closer without realizing it. You reached down, your fingers brushing his lightly at first, then holding his hand gently, avoiding the tender spots on his knuckles. His hand was warm against yours, despite the tremor running through it, and you couldn’t bring yourself to let go.

"Don’t do this," you whispered, voice barely above a breath. It was more of a plea to yourself than to him, but the words still felt heavy. You had been trying so hard to move forward, to leave everything behind, but somehow, in this moment, it felt impossible.

Suna’s expression softened, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something more, but he didn’t. Instead, he gave a quiet, almost broken sigh, squeezing your hand ever so slightly. His gaze dropped to where your fingers were intertwined, a faint sadness clouding his features.

"I messed up," he muttered, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. "I… I didn’t know how to fix it, and I still don’t."

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words settle over you, making your heart ache in a way you hadn’t expected. You wanted to respond, wanted to tell him it was okay, or that he didn’t have to explain himself. But the truth was, you didn’t know what you wanted to say. You didn’t know how to navigate this fragile space between the two of you, or if you even could.

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was more like a moment suspended in time, a brief interlude where everything—past and present—seemed to converge. You stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, his hand in yours, unsure of what the future might hold but reluctant to pull away.

Eventually, you pulled your hand back slightly, but you didn’t let go completely. You could still feel the warmth of his hand, even with the small space that had formed between you.

You walked out of the room, the soft click of the door behind you almost reassuring in its quiet finality. It didn’t take long to grab a glass of water from the kitchen, but by the time you returned, you could feel the weight of the night pressing on your shoulders. Everything felt suspended, like you were standing at the edge of something, unsure whether to step forward or retreat.

When you walked back into the bathroom, Suna was sitting on the edge of the sink, staring down at his hands, lost in thought. His posture was slouched, his shoulders heavy with the weight of everything unsaid between the two of you. You placed the glass of water on the counter with a soft clink, and he lifted his gaze slowly, eyes tired but still holding that quiet, unreadable look.

"I need to go home, it’s late," you said quietly, your voice almost drowned out by the pounding of your own heartbeat. "You should too."

Suna didn’t respond immediately. His gaze flickered to the water and then back to you, the silence stretching between you two like an unspoken question. You could see that he wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

Finally, Suna exhaled sharply, standing up slowly from the sink. He took the glass of water you’d set down and drank from it, eyes fixed on the counter as he swallowed. After a moment, he lowered the glass, the tension in his shoulders still obvious, but now there was a quiet acceptance in his expression.

"Yeah," he said, his voice low. "I should probably head out too."

He didn’t look at you as he turned towards the door, but you could hear the weight in his footsteps as he moved, and it struck you that he wasn’t just talking about leaving the party, or even the house. He was talking about something deeper—about the way he’d been avoiding everything that had caught up to him tonight.

Before he reached the door, you stopped him, your voice catching in your throat.

"Do you want me to… walk you home?" The question felt strange leaving your mouth, and you regretted it almost immediately. You weren’t sure what the right thing was to do anymore.

But Suna turned back toward you, his face softening. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he just stood there, the space between you feeling smaller than it had in hours.

"I should be the one saying that," he said after a moment, lightly laughing, but there was a quiet sincerity to his tone. "Thanks though."

You nodded, unsure of what to say next. You didn’t push it, letting him leave quietly, as though this was the way things had to end for now. There were still so many unsaid things between you, but for tonight, you’d let the silence do the talking.

As you watched him walk out, you couldn’t shake the feeling that things weren’t finished—not yet. But for now, you would let him go.

—-----

Suna slowly sat up, the light pouring in through the cracks in the curtains stabbing into his tired eyes. Groaning, he buried his face into the pillow, desperate to block out the world. His head was pounding, every throb a reminder of the wild night before. His body felt like it had been run over, and the dull ache in his chest only added to the chaos of his mind.

Everything about last night was a blur. Bits and pieces came to him in flashes—yelling, fighting, alcohol, Atsumu’s face, his own words slipping out before he could stop them… and then you. He remembered you.

But, what happened after? That part was foggy. He winced as he rubbed his chest, the lingering soreness of the punches he'd thrown still there. His lip felt swollen, his hands ached like they had been in a vice. He opened his eyes, glancing down at his knuckles. They were bruised, cracked.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. He looked around the room, trying to make sense of where he was. It took him a moment to realize he was back at his place, on his bed, still wearing the clothes from last night. The faint scent of alcohol hung in the air, and his throat felt dry, like he hadn’t had a drink in hours.

He ran his hand over his face, the hangover still tight around his skull. Last night… it wasn’t just about the alcohol. Something in him had snapped—something he hadn’t been able to keep buried any longer. He could barely remember the details, but he knew what had been at the heart of it all. You.

Last night had been a mess—a blur of words he shouldn’t have said, a fight he never should’ve started, all of it centered around you. You, who he couldn’t get out of his head, no matter how hard he tried.

He clenched his jaw, feeling the ache in his body from where he’d thrown punches, his hands still tender from the fight. Atsumu’s voice echoed in his mind: “You broke up with her. You let her go. You can’t get mad at me for moving on.”

But it wasn’t that simple, was it? He hadn’t wanted to break up with you. He hadn’t wanted to hurt you. He’d just—he didn’t know how to deal with it all, with the way you made him feel, how much he needed you but was too stubborn to admit it.

Stupid. So stupid.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized how much of an idiot he’d been. He’d shoved his feelings down for so long, convinced himself that he didn’t care, that it was better this way. But last night had proven how much of a lie that was. When he saw Atsumu looking at you, talking to you like it was nothing, jealousy had torn through him like wildfire.

He wanted to punch himself for not realizing sooner. He had pushed you away, made all the wrong choices, all because of his stupid pride. But now? Now, he couldn’t ignore the fact that every moment without you felt like he was losing a part of himself.

He groaned, his head throbbing harder as the memories of last night played in his mind like a broken record. Atsumu’s angry face, his words cutting deep, and then you, walking away.

Suna let out a frustrated sigh, standing up from the bed. He stumbled slightly, his body still not fully cooperating with his brain. His hands ached, and his chest felt tight with the guilt of it all. You’d been the one person who actually mattered to him. The one person he cared about more than anything, and he’d messed it up.

“Dammit,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t know what to do now. He couldn’t just go back to ignoring it, pretending everything was fine. He had to fix this, but how?

He thought about last night again, the way you had looked at him when he spoke, the brief exchange before you walked away. Maybe you were done with him, maybe you had already made up your mind to move on, but he couldn’t—he didn’t know how to. He wasn’t ready to give up on you yet.

Suna paced in front of the door, his heart pounding as his hands fumbled with the doorknob. He had no idea what to expect once he showed up at your house, but he couldn’t let the fear of rejection hold him back anymore. If Atsumu really was making a move on you, then he’d lose his chance forever. He couldn't let that happen—not again.

His stomach twisted as he shoved his shoes on, grabbing his jacket and slinging it over his shoulders. The hangover still clung to him, but the anxiety gnawing at him was stronger. He was scared—no, terrified. What if you didn’t even want to see him? What if everything he’d done was beyond fixing? But there was no turning back now.

With a deep breath, Suna splashed his face with cold water, the chill of it cutting through the haze of alcohol still lingering in his system. It wasn’t going to be easy, but he had to do this. He had to face the mess he’d made, and he had to face you.

He paused in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection. His hands still hurt from last night, bruised and cut, a reminder of his stupidity. His lip was sore too—an angry red mark where he had taken one of Atsumu’s punches. Suna clenched his jaw, feeling a surge of regret. But that was all in the past now. What mattered was what he was about to do.

His chest tightened again, his heart thumping in his ears as he stepped out the door.

Suna stood there, his hands jammed deep into his hoodie pockets, his posture slumped as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. His heart was pounding in his chest, and for a brief moment, he considered just turning around and walking away. He was afraid—afraid of what you might say, afraid of how you'd look at him after everything he’d done.

But then you opened the door, your eyes meeting his. For a split second, he saw the concern flicker in your gaze, and it made his stomach twist. He hated that he had put that look there. He hated that he had been the one to make you worry.

"Are you okay?" Your voice was soft, tentative, as if you weren't sure how to approach him anymore. You looked at him like you weren’t sure whether to welcome him in or slam the door shut.

Suna exhaled slowly, trying to gather his thoughts. He wasn’t sure how to answer that. He wasn’t sure if he was okay at all. But he had to start somewhere, right?

“I… I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice almost a whisper. “I don’t think I am.”

His eyes dropped to the ground, feeling the weight of his own words. There was so much more he wanted to say, so much he needed to say, but the lump in his throat made it hard to even speak. He was scared. Scared of how you might react, scared that this was it—this was the end.

“I just—” He started again, shaking his head as if trying to get his thoughts to line up, to make sense of them. “I was stupid, okay? I was so fucking stupid and selfish, and I don’t even know why I—”

His words faltered, his chest tightening as the regret and guilt from the past few months all came rushing to the surface. “I hurt you. And I hate myself for it.”

He finally looked up at you, seeing the confusion in your eyes, the hurt he had caused written all over your face. That look made his heart ache, but it also gave him the strength he needed to finally speak the truth.

“I miss you,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse. “I miss everything about you. And I was too proud and too dumb to admit it. I shouldn’t have let you go. I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

He paused, watching as you processed his words. His hands still shoved deep into his pockets, but now his shoulders were a little less slumped. He wasn’t sure if this was going to fix anything—he wasn’t sure if it could—but at least he was being honest with you. At least he was finally admitting how much he messed up.

“I don’t know what else to say,” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “But I just—please don’t hate me.”

The silence stretched between you, and Suna held his breath, waiting for you to say something, anything.

You took a deep breath, your gaze softening as you spoke. "I could never hate you, Suna. But you pushed me away, and it really hurt." Suna's chest tightened at your words. You could never hate him? He wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or guilty. Of course, you couldn’t hate him. You were kind, thoughtful, always willing to forgive. But that didn’t change the fact that he had pushed you away, and now here he was, begging for a chance to make it right. He looked down at the ground, unable to meet your eyes. The weight of your words hit him harder than any punch. It hurt. He had known it, of course, but hearing it from you, feeling the quiet sting of that simple truth—he realized just how deep the damage went. "I know," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have acted like that. I was… scared. Scared of how much you meant to me, scared of being vulnerable, scared of losing you, and I thought that if I pushed you away first, it wouldn’t hurt so much when you left." He paused, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips, but it wasn’t a happy one. “How stupid is that?” Suna finally dared to look up, his eyes softening as they met yours. The guilt in his chest was suffocating, but now he felt something else—something almost like hope. The hope that maybe, just maybe, there was still a way to fix this. Maybe it wasn’t too late. “I’ve spent so much time lying to myself, convincing myself I didn’t need you when deep down, I was just terrified of being left. I don’t know what happened to me, [Name]. I thought I was in control, but… I wasn’t.” He stepped forward, just a little, wanting to close the distance between you. “I don’t want to lose you. Not like this. I’ve already ruined everything, and I know it’s not going to be easy for you to just… forgive me. But I want to try. I want to fix this.” Suna's voice cracked, and for the first time, he felt a vulnerability he had buried for so long. “I want you back, [Name]. Not because I’m scared, but because I love you, and I should’ve said that when I had the chance.”

There, he said it. And now it was out there in the open. The truth. He had said it before, in fragments, but never like this. Never with this much weight behind it.

For a moment, there was only silence. The kind that made everything feel too big and too small at the same time. Suna watched you carefully, his chest tight with uncertainty, as you seemed to process his words. The air was thick with everything unsaid, and his heart raced. What if you didn’t feel the same?

Then, without warning, you stepped forward. Your hand reached for his, trembling slightly, and his breath caught in his throat. You looked up at him with eyes that were glistening, filled with a mixture of pain and something else—something he could barely comprehend, something that made his own heart ache.

“I… I didn’t think you’d ever feel that way about me again,” you whispered, the words soft but heavy. Then, before he could respond, you suddenly threw your arms around him, burying your face against his chest.

The sudden contact made Suna freeze for a moment, the heat of your body against his, your tears dampening his shirt. He wasn’t sure what to do, but then he heard you speak again, this time your voice muffled by his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should’ve never blocked you. I… I was so hurt, but I love you, Suna. I love you too.”

Suna’s heart stopped for a moment. He hadn’t expected this, not this quickly, not after everything. He hesitated, his arms hovering by his sides, unsure whether he deserved this closeness, unsure if you meant it. But then, slowly, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, feeling the weight of everything he’d been carrying—the guilt, the confusion, the regret—finally start to lift.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m the one who messed up. I hurt you, and I don’t deserve you, but I’m not going to let you go. Not again.”

You clung to him, shaking slightly, the sobs coming in quiet waves. Suna tightened his grip on you, his own chest tight, his breath shallow. It felt like everything he had been longing for, everything he had been afraid to admit, was finally here in this moment.

“I was so stupid,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he pressed his forehead against yours. “I thought I could be okay without you, but I can’t. I don’t want to be without you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your tears soaking into his skin. “I just didn’t know if you still felt the same. I thought you… didn’t want me anymore.”

Suna gently pulled back slightly, just enough to look at your face, his hand reaching up to brush the tears away from your cheeks. “I’ve never stopped wanting you,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I just… I thought if I pushed you away first, it wouldn’t hurt so much when I lost you. But I was wrong. I lost you anyway.”

You shook your head, your hand gently cupping his face. “You didn’t lose me, Suna. Not if you’re willing to fight for us.”

He smiled softly, a weight he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying lifting off his chest. He could feel the pieces of his broken heart slowly falling back into place. “I’ll fight for us,” he promised, his voice strong, his hands shaking just slightly as he held you close. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

And as you held each other in that quiet moment, Suna felt a warmth spread through him—something that had been missing for so long. A feeling that maybe, just maybe, things could be okay again.

•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•••·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•••·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·••

#suna rintarou #suna x reader #second chance romance #second chances #exes to lovers #fan fic #ᐢ..ᐢ strwberrys fics #x reader #oneshot #angst #haikyuu fanfiction #fanfic #haikyuu #drinking #alcohol

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maximoffsgirl · 4 months ago

Text

Bad Idea, Right?

summary: You haven't heard from her in a couple months, but one single phone call and you simply tripped and fell into her bed. You don't dare to tell anyone in who's sheets you are, but it was casual; can't two people reconnect? That might have been the biggest lie you've ever said.

warnings: Dom!Wanda, Top!Wanda, Sub!Reader, Bottom!Reader, D/s dynamics, Wanda is older than R (No specific age is mentioned), Wanda is referred to be taller than R (no specific height), ex-lovers, second chance romance, nipple stimulation, hickies, fingering (R receiving), Objectification (R is called a 'fucktoy' once) , light choking, praise, degradation , please let me know if there's more

MEN AND MINORS DNI

author's note: English isn't my first language ;D and this is my first time writing smut, so please bear with me on both topics

words count: 6.924

not proofread!

listen to:

“Just turn it already!” you heard Kate’s yell, the sound echoing from what you assumed was the kitchen. You were barely paying attention, your legs lazily tangled around a plush pillow, body slumped back into the deep, inviting cushions of the comfortable couch that the Bishop's residence offered. It was a trap for the perfect slumber, one that you had fallen into many times.

Kate’s apartment had yet to disappoint when it came to comfort, a space that had been indirectly chosen as the go-to ‘stop’ for your group. Perhaps it was because you couldn’t remember actually sleeping after the drinks had already made themselves at home in your system, or maybe it was because the late-night conversations stretched on until dawn, coaxing your eyelids to close without a second thought.

But today, you were fucked up. It wasn’t merely your body that ached; it was the weight of the entire week pressing down on you, squeezing out any remnants of peace you might’ve found. And suddenly, nothing was working. The headache lingered stubbornly, a relentless throb that kept itself known even after the vodka mixed with passion fruit that sat half-finished on the coffee table. Somewhere between the walls, Kate, Yelena, and Peter were pouring drinks down their throats, their usual antics harmless—most of the time—and comfortingly familiar. Usually, you would be the one shaking their heads after each shot, attempting to intensify the warm feeling of the alcohol coursing through their veins. But tonight, you simply weren’t in the mood to join in.

You heard the third buzz of your phone somewhere between your legs, the pillow, and the couch, the possible content doing nothing to spark your curiosity. Lazily, you searched for your mobile, freezing instantly as the content finally revealed itself.

Upcoming call from Maximoff.

Your drunken instincts kicked in before you could fully process the situation; you quickly answered the call and adjusted your posture on the couch, a nervous habit you still hadn’t managed to shake off even after months apart.

“Y/N.”

You first heard a sigh, followed by your name, and suddenly, it felt strange, as if it wasn’t truly yours until she said it. Her voice was sharp, direct, and certain, just as it always was when she wanted something. You had to restrain yourself from sighing in response to her tone. Wanda had a knack for ensuring her undertone was unmistakable, her intentions loud and clear even through the silence that accompanied her words.

“Y/N?”

She repeated, this time as a question. No undertone, no sigh—just a hint of confusion that you could almost picture settling into her face, accompanied by that adorable frown and slight tilt of her head. The thought of it sent a wave of panic coursing through you, prompting you to abruptly end the call. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you tried to gather your thoughts. Suddenly, your mind was inundated with a flurry of notifications. You contemplated various responses: “Hey Wanda,” “Hi Wanda,” “Sup,” mentally cursing yourself for the last one. You considered “What is it?”, “Are you okay?” ,“Fuck you.”, "Fuck me". But in the end, you settled for a simple “hi wanda,” knowing she hated whenever her name was written without capital letters.

You could feel your heartbeat on every inch of your body. Uncomfortably pulsing and almost burning as if to remind you of how much Wanda Maximoff still affected you - not that you needed one, her hold on you made itself known every night; when it was late enough to hear the breeze touching the tree leafs and you had your hand buried between your legs, your index finger drawing teasing circles on the wetness that you’ve found, and her name unconsciously escaping from your mouth.

The exchanged messages had you sighing, your mind trapped into a haze that, even from afar, Wanda knew exactly how to get you in; rather it was on purpose or not.

Throughout the months, your friends had been tortured by your thoughts. Your constant texts in the group chat, or never ending rants complaining about how much you missed your ex, had earned you a handful of complaints and curses enough to write a trilogy. They already knew by heart each and every protest you’d make about your past relationship. It was always about Wanda’s hugs, Wanda’s kiss, Wanda’s cooking, Wanda’s voice, Wanda’s hands, Wanda’s couch, Wanda’s - everything.. Kate wished out loud her desire to receive a nickel for every time she was obligated to hear that very same name, last name, and nickname come from your mouth.

The name, last name and nickname who was telling you to come over at that very moment. And yes, maybe you'd cursed every single member of her family over and over again, wished upon her future children an impossible ugliness —a thought you knew would never hold up, given that she looked like she’d been handpicked by God himself. But then again, by the time Wanda sended you a teasing picture, called you by a sweet pet name, and then topped it off with a simple, "I miss you" you did not have any power over your own being anymore.

Before you knew it, your phone was slipped into your small black purse, and you were making your way toward the inebriated group of friends. Kate, noticing the purse strap on your bare shoulder, looked at you with a drunk pout. “Where are you going?” she asked, her words slurring slightly as she grabbed your wrist.

“I’ve got a terrible migraine… thought I’d go home to rest a bit,” you replied, giving the girl a shy smile, trying your best to hide the real intentions behind that decision. Kate and the others launched into a half-hearted effort to convince you to stay, almost begging for you to spend a little more time with them and sleep at the Bishop’s residence. But their words barely registered. All you could hear was the soft echo of Wanda’s text—“make it 20” - you'd rather ignore the first part of the message for the sake of your underwear —burning insistently in your mind. With a quick kiss on each of their cheeks, you ducked out of their grasp and slipped out of the building, your steps quickening with each floor you passed.

You slid into the driver’s seat, pausing for a moment to consider what you were doing. Were you really wrecking all your plans with your best friends for that woman? yes. Was it honestly worth it to see Wanda after all these months apart? yes. Was it worth the actual migraine you’d probably end up with, giving in to something you already knew would end the same way? yes

Without reaching any real conclusions, your fingers moved on their own, starting the car's engine in one familiar motion. Wanda’s address blinked on the display—an unknown location, yet somehow instinctive. You didn’t think twice before following it, your heart pounding as you watched the traffic lights change colors.

You look at the building through your window. A what seemed to be a quiet place, with no more than four floors and a few balconies with flowers. You took a deep breath next, sending Wanda a text while waiting inside the comfort of your car.

With each step you took, your breathing grew heavier, almost labored, as if the weight of anticipation was the only thing your body could process. The strap of your bag, though light, now felt like it was searing into your skin, a reminder of what was waiting, or rather who was waiting for you. Your calves ached with each stride, an all-too-familiar burn that reminded you of the countless times Wanda had called you in the middle of the night, her voice always assertive with a sweet, demanding, urgent, undertone. Every nerve seemed attuned to the memory of those late-night rendezvous, your body tense with the knowledge of what lay ahead, and yet unable—unwilling—to stop.

And with a single turn, there she was. Her hair, now a rich, dark brunette - a contrast to the auburn color you’d always known - complimented her features like any other could, although, if you could be honest, you’d say that to any color on the rainbow’s entirety as long as it was on her. Her smirk, almost boor, sends shivers down your spine, reminding you of what you were getting yourself into with that simple look.

She stood there, her back casually pressed against the doorpost and body contoured by a single lay of fabric, a simple lace nightgown colored in a deep crimson tone, a piece of fabric that you had never seen before. It hugged all the curves of her body, leaving just enough to imagination but more than you could possibly handle right now. The image made a possessive, jealous, nature want to come out of your being. Although you did make yourself overcome the overwhelming urge to pull her into the room, out of any sight that was not your own; begrudge still lingered inside you, caused by her initiative of standing on the door like that, where anyone could see her wearing something so informal, so inviting.

Before you knew it, you found yourself standing in front of her, your eyes locked in a silent exchange for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. The air was thick with mutual tension, an unspoken energy crackling between you. In a swift motion, Wanda reached out and grasped the strap of your bag that clung to your shoulder, pulling you effortlessly into the apartment. The door clicked shut behind you, your body now pressed against the cold surface, an intense contrast to the hot kisses that were now displayed on your neck and collarbone.

Wanda’s hands grabbed your purse, tossing it onto the familiar couch in the living room with a casual flick of her wrist. In an instant, her body was pressed against yours like second nature, a sense of urgency irradiating through both of your bodies. Her right hand now on your thigh, pushed you more against the door, her grip possessive as a growl left her lips at the outfit you chose.

“Why are you wearing pants?” She boldly complained. Saying it casually as if she had seen your face everyday for the past months. It was as if she hadn’t spent countless nights searching through her phone for memories of the two of you. If she were to count that, then she truly had seen your face every day, of every week, of every month you’ve been apart, but it’s not like she’d ever tell you that. So instead, Wanda pretended to act normal, a decision that made anger boil on your veins, but you opted on playing into her gaming, giving in to what she wanted.

“It’s cold, I was at Kate’s” it was a simple explanation, but one that Wanda was all too familiar with, so she just nodded her head along with your words. Her hands now climbing the curves of your body and resting on your neck, fingers applying enough pressure so you know it’s there, but not enough to make you moan and beg. And she knows that. Wanda knows that if she applies a little more pressure on her fingers, you’ll be whining unwittingly, the sweet sound escaping your lips even before you could think of it. But she’d rather wait. Taking in your soft features, the ones that she was too tired of seeing just through the confines of her phone screen; never being able to touch, just remembering like some kind of torture.

With a single finger, she tilted your jaw up to meet her eyes. A frown grew on your face once she just stared at you, you wondered what thoughts were swirling behind that penetrating stare; hoping it was the same as yours. No movement was made aside from the gentle caress of her thumb on your chin, tender like a feather but as vital as her stare. She moved impossibly closer and you envelope her waist in your arms in a familiar and intuitive action, hands moving below the delicate fabric of her nightgown, gently moving to the curve of her bum to caress her back tenderly.

Her thumb then moved to your bottom lip, tugging it down gently before pinching your chin, a teasing movement that made you smile, just like it always did. Likewise, a smile took control of her features before she gently bent down, meeting your already parted lips with hers.

Unlike you had thought, she kissed you slowly, tenderly, taking her time with your mouth as gently as she could, sliding her tongue through both of your lips, meeting yours with a small hum. Her breath mingled with yours, warm and inviting, filling you with a sense of belonging that had been missing for far too long. God, you've missed Wanda’s kiss

You tried to pull away, waiting to see her face, but she instantly pulled you back, murmuring a soft murmur of denial “Uh Uhm”. You had no recall if you spended the last seconds, minutes or hours kissing her like this, the next thing you noticed was the kiss turning even more heated with each passing seconds. Her lust showing not only on her lips but also in her hands, those that traveled relentlessly every inch of your body she could access.

Wanda tapped your thigh three times, quietly telling you to grab your legs around her. Which you gladly did, your arms now circling her shoulder the same way your legs tangled themselves around her midsection. She never once stopped kissing you, making her way through the unknown apartment to what you assumed - and not so secretly hoped - was her room.

Your assumption made itself true when she threw you in a soft bed, her hands quickly working to take off the pants she had complained about earlier, tossing them somewhere with a teasing smile. Her hands now turned to roughly grip your thighs, moving her body and fingers up towards you so that your back pressed against the headboard.

“Don’t ruin it” you murmured once Wanda’s hands settled on your collarbone, your shirt trapped in her palm as she held onto it until her knuckles turned white. You heard a huff pass through her natural red lips - a consequence of the immeasurable time you spent kissing her - as she took your shirt off gently, an intense contrast to her idea of just ripping it up.

Along with your bra, the rest of your clothes receive the same unknown destination of your pants with a casual toss. You pouted at her, hands on her waist to pull her closer in urgency, now hating the piece of fabric that made shivers run down your body when you first saw it, taking it only as an annoying, irritating, barrier between both of your heated bodies.

“Don’t be a brat, Y/N” Wanda murmured, a low familiar tone which made you whine, recognizing what that meant even after the time apart. Your answer came with a quick shake of head, a defiance in your glare as to show you weren’t agreeing with her on that; at least not after the torturous months where you had only your fingers and an old vibrator hidden in the last drawer of your bedside table.

She sighed, galled at your reaction. To prove you wrong, her hands quickly parted your legs, pressing her knee against your center. In mock, she imitated your reaction, her lips parting open together with yours, a smirk on her face as she looked at you in amusement. Asking, without words, how long would you keep up the act she already knew all the words too.

"You have no idea how much I've missed you. Be a good girl, hm?" even if Wanda was asking, you knew better than to take that by anything other than a demand. So you weakly nod. Deciding on not fooling her, or you, anymore.

"Are you drunk?" she tenderly asks, her right hand angled perfectly on your breast as you felt the other pinning you down on the bed. You shook your head, the medium dose at Kate's house not being enough to inebriate you. Of alcohol? no. Of her? That's entirely different.

"Are you?" you asked, remembering vaguely of the bottle of liquor sitting lonely at her center table you've had a glimpse while she dragged you to the room. Wanda denied with her hand, pinching your already erect nipple. A moan emitted from deep inside you as she roughly played with the already sore protruding part.

"Always so sensitive" She murmured, bent down to whisper in your ear, placing a soft kiss on the side of your face. "Did you miss me too, Y/N?"

How could I not? The thought echoed in your mind, undeniable. But feeding her ego wasn't something you were looking for right now, her smirk already wide enough as it was.

She chuckled dryly, biting on your earlobe "Ah, ah... you know how this works, baby. Answer me" Wanda replied to your weak nod. Her hand on your waist now moving dangerously down, squeezing your inner thigh.

"Yes. Yes, Wanda. I've missed you too" came your response, as weak as your nod. The woman smiled, revelling on that pleasurable look on your face. Her hands playing with the waistband of your already drenched underwear. A whine escaped from your lips once she perfectly placed her thumb on your clit through the wet spot of the fabric, a hot tongue now circling your nipples, making you arch your hips towards her.

You were all too familiar with Wanda's teasing. The way her light fingers would run through every single corner of your body, never applying pressure on where you want, but enough to send shivers down your body. She took her time, wondering how long it would take until you were completely, broken, desperate.

If you were familiar with her teasing, Wanda was familiar with your body, she knew every knot that made your eyes roll and legs twitch; she knew every word that would make your clit pulse just beneath her fingers.

“Still think this was a bad idea, Y/N?” she asked boldly, her voice low, taunting, with that teasing smirk that made you want to both kiss and slap her all at once. Not indulging her needs you nodded your head, your lips sealed, hiding the moan your body craved to let out.

Wanda chuckled, moving your panties to the side as her index finger ran across your folds. She smiles at the sharky breath you let out, always loving to prove you wrong. “Hm… is that so, baby? Then why is this pussy dripping wet for me?” Before you knew it, her finger was inside the confines of your mouth, making you suck your own arousal off of it. “Are you going to deny that as well?”

You knew Wanda well enough to know that she didn’t expect an answer, at least not with your tongue circling her finger. Her other hand quickly worked to rip your underwear; her finger, now wet from your mouth, circling your neck, applying the pressure you were searching for since she dragged you into the apartment. She wanted to hear your complaint about the destroyed fabric, one that came as soon as you heard the noise. The first one of your underwear being ripped and the second one caused by the pop of her finger once she forced your sucking to come to a stop. “Wanda!”

“If you’re going to complain I might have to stuff this pretty mouth with something other than my fingers” She challenged, as if you didn’t know this was exactly what she was looking for. “Is that what you want, Y/N?”

Wanda’s questions were all rhetoric, her teasing way of nudging you into that soft, hazy headspace she adored seeing you in. And, of course, you knew that, but you let her lead you there anyway. Revelling in the feeling just as much as she did. You felt the urge to respond, even if she wasn’t technically waiting for an answer. So you shook your head with conviction, your resolve melting under her gaze.

Wanda chuckled, spreading your legs as her fingers settled between them, one hand running through your folds, collecting the wetness at your entrance; and the other slowly circling your bundle of nerves, pinching it occasionally just so she could see you jump. You had no recall of the time she spent toying with your body, but her lips had a smile into it as her gaze burned on your pink folds, your wetness now on your inner thighs, almost reaching her white bed sheets.

“Wanda” You called her, your voice a bare whisper as you whined, back arching towards her along with your waist that tried to reach her fingers to somewhere else other than your clit. Her bedsheets clinged into your body, getting messier with each movement, mimicking your hair.

“Yes? What do you need, pretty girl?” Her words made you whine softly, your hands clutching at her nightgown with urgency. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, feeling the warmth of her presence before looking up at her with a pout, the need in your gaze unmistakable. Wanda smiled, bent down to whisper against your lips, her free hand tightening her grip around your neck. “Whiny, whiny girl… if I hadn’t missed you so much I would make you beg right now. Not tonight though”

At the relieved look on your face Wanda raised her eyebrow, her features unable to hide the amusement expression on her face. “Well, I won’t make you beg… but you’ve already forgotten your manners?”

“Please, Wanda… Please..please”

“Good girl”

You honestly couldn’t recall if you moaned due to her words or the two fingers finding their way inside your drenched cunt. But either way, your waist was moving desperately against her fingers as she curled them inside of you, finding that oh so sweet spot within seconds.

She played with your clit with her free hand, not so gently toying with the already simulated bundle of nerves. Green orbs gently searched for all of your reactions, not daring to miss a single thing about your features, she has missed you enough to deprive herself from that by now.

“How many times did you touch yourself thinking about me, love?"

A lot, and you both knew that. You couldn’t point one single time where her eyes weren’t inside your head while your fingers were inside your pussy. You’ve tried to mimic her movements; tried to picture the words she used to tell you. And, if you were honest, you only had an orgasm on your own because at least three of your thoughts were about her. Nothing was more arousing than Wanda Maximoff.

Although none of this escaped the confines of your head, it didn’t take a mind reader to know the reason behind your crimson cheeks and incessant whines.

“Poor baby… you’re so needy without me” - Her voice was sweet, sweet enough to be degrative as she looked at you. Eyebrows almost touching and lips pouting. A perfect look of faux sympathy.

By the time Wanda increased her speed, you were already a mess. Legs twitching, eyes rolling back, back arching forward and arms searching for her. Wanda thought she would cum just from the sight, your pretty body so vulnerable, looking for her in despair, practically begging for anything she could think of giving you.

“You’re so wet… I can feel you squeezing my fingers, my love. Tell me, did you miss being my little slut?”

You’ve missed Wanda’s voice. Was the first thing you thought when the words met your ears. The second was a moan. A loud, desperate moan at her words. Unfortunately for you, moans weren’t enough for Wanda’s hunger now. So when no reply came from you abused pink lips, Wanda made sure that other parts of your body were pink too.

You swear you could cum right there once her palm roughly met your ass, and then your clitoris, and then your ass again. It’s not like you hadn’t been degraded, or praised, or spanked in this span of months. But how you’ve missed Wanda’s hands. After all, no one does it like a Maximoff.

“Yes! Yes, Wanda, Yes! I’ve missed being your little slut. Please” You begged - cried. Words falling off your mouth like dominoes.

People say that to be loved is to be heard, and Wanda absolutely loved hearing you. The soft pleas and breathy whispers slipping from your lips as she decided what to do with you were music to her ears, each sound a reminder of the hold she still had over you, the confidence you had in her.

Others may say that to be loved is to be seen, which she couldn’t agree more, remembering the soft mornings were your legs were tangled around hers, your stable breath against her neck as she watched you sleep peacefully, insistent locks of hair blocking her view from your whole face as she let out a huff and gently pushed them aside, trying to savor every detail of those quiet moments, even through her memories.

Whether love meant to be seen or heard, Wanda knew she would give every single sensation and feeling to you. She would See, Hear, Smell, Taste and especially Touch you for all her life. The intensity of her devotion now was almost laughable compared to her actions months ago.

But she’d give every part of herself to you, even if that was one of the parts of her that she always kept hidden, specially from you.

As she looked at you, she noticed your breathing becoming more labored, a series of soft whines escaping your lips. Your hips moved instinctively, seeking out her fingers. The ones that were already pounding inside of you fast and rough.

“Oh. You’re gonna cum? I know baby.. I know”

Wanda cooed, bending down so that her lips were almost touching yours. As you tried to kiss her, you felt the air being blocked from your throat as her hand found home there once again. Her voice sweetly founding your ears as she displayed marks just below your earlobe.

“Cum for me, Y/N. Show how much you’ve missed being my fucktoy”

If your trembling legs weren’t enough a sign to show her that your orgasm was close, the sound coming from your lips certainly got the job done. The feeling of her fingers trapped inside your stimulated walls and her sweet words on your eyes made you see stars even before you came undone beneath her.

“Oh.. Good girl. Uhum… just like that, honey”

Fortunately, or not, Wanda wouldn’t be stopping until your sixth orgasm under her tongue. Making you so overstimulated that just the bare feeling of her knee against your pussy had tears falling down on the side of your face.

Whether it was the exhaustion of your overworked body or the steady rhythm of Wanda’s heartbeat beneath your head, you couldn’t tell. But you’d never felt such peace in your life. The warmth of her body against yours and your legs so perfectly tangled together made you wonder how you’d ever managed to sleep without this.

When the rays of sun managed to overcome the dense curtain in the room, enlightening everything it reached, Wanda was already awake. Her fingers light, as to not wake you up, tracing your features softly. Wanting to crave in her mind how your cheeks felt so soft beneath her fingertips, how you hummed in your sleep and unconsciously searched for her waist, pressing your bodies even closer.

Wanda let out a soft, annoyed sigh as stray locks of your hair slipped across your face, obscuring her view. Carefully, she brushed them back behind your ear, her fingertips lingering just a moment longer than necessary. She gazed at you with a tenderness so raw that, had you been awake to see it, you might have buried your face against her collarbone, overcome with emotion.

Reluctantly, Wanda forced herself to slip out of the bed, carefully breaking free of your intense grip, prying your arms from around her with care. She paused for a moment, looking down at you, and then carefully pulled the covers up to shield your goose-pimpled skin. Satisfied that you were tucked in, she quietly made her way to the bathroom, the soft sound of her steps barely breaking the silence.

Maybe it was the soft hum of the shower, the sunlight streaming directly onto your face, or the subtle emptiness beside you that stirred you awake. Your eyes fluttered open, landing on the closed bathroom door. You sighed, small whines of complaint slipping out as you forced your sore body, scanning the room for something to wear as your own clothes were in some corner still to be found.

Without a second thought, you padded over to Wanda’s closet, grabbing a pair of her cozy gray sweatpants. You slipped them on, feeling an instant relief as they shielded your bare legs from the chilly morning air—a warmth that, until now, had only been Wanda’s. Her hoodie was quickly on your body as you stretched yourself.

Blindly making your way to the living room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings; a cozy apartment when compared to the fancy uptown building Wanda used to call home back in your days together. our eyes quickly found your purse, discarded in the corner of the couch. You reached for it, quickly pulling out our phone that, to your surprise, still had battery, the screen lighting up with a soft glow.

Upcoming call from ‘Alcohoes’

You playfully rolled your eyes, You threw yourself onto the couch, the cushions welcoming your tired body - how you’ve missed Wanda’s couch - as you accepted the call from your friend group.

“Do you guys really need to friend-group call me?” You complained as soon as you got the call.

Wanda stepped out of the shower, her body now relaxed and enlaced around another nightgown. She frowned once she noticed you were nowhere inside her room, But her answer quickly came as she heard your voice coming from the living room.

Wanda stepped out of the shower, steam still lingering in the air as she wrapped herself in a fresh nightgown, the fabric clinging to her skin. She frowned when she noticed you weren’t in the room, unsuccessfully searching the room for any sight of you that were not your clothes discharged near her bedside table. A quiet frustration bubbled up inside her, but it didn’t take long for her to get an answer.

Your voice floated in from the living room, carrying faintly through the apartment, a sound that instantly pulled her attention away from the emptiness of her room.

She arrived just in time to catch the tail end of your conversation, a faint smirk tugging at her lips as she watched you say your goodbyes. Without a word, she approached quietly, her steps soft against the floor. The moment you ended the call, her body settled over yours, her warmth pressing you into the couch, her weight a familiar comfort. Wanda's smile grew as she leaned in, her face inches from yours as her body pressed you against the couch.

“So you’re lying to your friends now?” - She teased, kissing you jawline before taking your phone from you, tossing it as carefully as she could on the other side of the couch.

“I’m not lying. I told them I was asleep. It’s the truth” you murmured back, a smirk on your face as you caress her skin with the tip of your fingers. Wanda thought for a moment, her index finger running up and down your jawline before she whispered “But you never said where”

“Do you want me to tell my friends whose sheets I’m in, Wanda? Are you going to tell yours?” You challenged, eyebrows rising as you features that Wanda had adored for hours showed an amusement expression.

“Touché, pretty girl. Let’s fetch you some breakfast. Shall we?” She grinned playfully, slipping her hand into yours and giving it a gentle tug, leading you toward the kitchen, her fingers laced with yours felt sending a pleasant warmth up your arm as she moved with purpose.

As Wanda moved through the kitchen, rummaging through cabinets and gathering ingredients, you hopped up onto the countertop, letting your legs swing back and forth as you watched her. She was only a few steps away, her expression so focused and casual, that made your heart ache.

The sight of her like this felt so intimate that it hurted. Even now, with her close enough to reach out and touch, you couldn’t shake the longing that clung to you, a reminder of the distance you'd crossed to be here.

Wanda chuckled softly when she spotted you perched on the countertop, a glint of amusement in her eyes as she approached, sliding effortlessly between your legs. Her hands found their way to your waist, grounding you as she looked up with a teasing smile.

“You know,” she murmured, her gaze flicking over to a nearby stool, “there’s a perfectly good seat right there.”

“Oh.. really? I didn’t realize” you smirk, faking surprised as you turned her head to where her gaze landed. “Brat,” Wanda murmured under her breath, a smirk ghosting on her lips as she took in the sight of you in her clothes—oversized and somehow fitting you perfectly at the same time. Her gaze lingered, softening as it traced over every familiar curve hidden under her sweater and sweats. She looked up, eyes meeting yours with that familiar glint.

“I’ll deal with you later,” she promised softly, squeezing your thighs over the gray sweatpants before turning back to the stove to begin making the pancakes. It was strange—how the months of silence between you hadn’t been addressed, how you were now sitting on her counter as if nothing had changed, nothing had been broken. The soft sounds of her moving around the kitchen, the rhythmic tapping of the spatula, the gentle hum of her presence, made everything else feel distant. You wanted to fight, to yell, to ask her why the hell it had taken so long to get here, but the way she moved, so calm and unbothered, made every word die in your throat.

Breakfast didn’t take long to prepare. The scent of pancakes filled the air, a comfort you didn’t realize you missed. Before you knew it, Wanda was placing a plate in front of the stool behind you, the warm food topped with fresh strawberries and bananas. She sets both the chocolate and honey syrups next to the plates. Silently inviting you to sit on the stool instead.

You did as she asked, hopping off the counter with a playful huff and making your way to the stool beside her. The moment you sat down, though, a frown tugged at your lips when you realized she wasn’t sitting right next to you. Instead, she moved to the counter to grab the fresh orange juice, her back to you as she opened one of the drawers near the sink. It was a small, almost insignificant action, but it hit you harder than you expected. The sight of her grabbing the strainer made something heavy settle in your chest.

You knew she remembered. You knew she knew how much you hated the foamy texture of freshly squeezed juice. She’d always done this for you—even if she complained, and teased and called you a child, - She’s always strained it every morning, without fail, just to make sure you didn’t have to deal with the foam. And now, seeing her do it again, it was almost too much. The ache in your chest flared, and for a moment, you felt that familiar, painful sense of longing. It was like nothing had changed, even though everything had.

With the juice in front of you and Wanda standing by your side, you murmured a soft "Thank you," your voice barely above a whisper. You took a bite of the pancakes, the sweetness of the strawberries and bananas mixing perfectly with the warm, fluffy texture of the pancakes. You savored every bite, the familiar taste pulling at something deep inside you. You’ve missed Wanda’s cooking.

“Is it good?” She asked, looking at you with her face resting on her hand.

“It’s wonderful, Wands” You praised, the nickname making Wanda’s breath get lost in her throat as she had to pull herself together. “No one does it like a Maximoff”

“What?” she chuckled as she asked, her tone light but with an undercurrent of curiosity, her eyebrows slightly raised.

“It’s nothing.. It’s just a joke Kate and I used to say after she hooked up with Pietro”

This time, Wanda truly laughed, a genuine, unexpected sound that filled the air. The answer was nothing she had expected. She looks at you with a smile, her eyes wide, shocked yet amused to hear something like that.

“I honestly don’t think I want to hear how that happened”

A silence rested in the room for a moment. It wasn't comfortable, yet it wasn’t completely awkward either—just an unspoken understanding hanging in the air. The soft clink of utensils against plates was the only sound, punctuated by the occasional sip of juice. Both of you ate the rest of the pancakes, chewing slowly, as if the quiet was part of the meal itself. The light from the window cast a gentle glow across the table, making the moment feel oddly serene, even if the silence remained a little too thick.

You got up from your seat, gathering both plates in your hands, and headed to the sink to wash them, returning the favor since she'd cooked the meal. The warm water ran over your hands as you scrubbed, but you suddenly felt your body tense when Wanda’s arms slipped gently around your midsection from behind. Her chin found a comfortable resting spot on your shoulder, her presence soft and grounding - You’ve missed Wanda’s hugs.

Then, you felt the warmth of her lips as she placed a tender kiss on your neck, just where the edge of your hoodie left a small patch of skin exposed. It was a small, quiet moment, but it lingered, filling the air with something that felt unspoken yet deeply understood.

“I want to see you again” She murmured against your skin. biting on it gently as to indulge you in agreeing.

“Wanda..” You warned, you face barely over a whisper as you sigh, your head falling to the side as you continue to wash a mug. Not really paying attention but refusing to fully give in to the woman.

“I know.. I know” She sighs, tightening her grip. “But can’t two people reconnect?”

You closed your eyes tightly, feeling the weight of her words settle over you, each one resonating with an intensity that left you almost breathless. A heavy sigh escaped you, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady yourself, but the impact was undeniable. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, feeling the weight of silence say more than words could in that moment.

“It can be casual” she tried once again. Even if the phrase went against her beliefs, she'd do anything to make you agree, nothing mattered more in that moment than reaching you, convincing you.

“Liar” It was all you managed to say.

But you were right, and both of you knew it. The truth hung between you, undeniable and clear. You and Wanda were too intense to be just casual—there was too much fire, too much depth simmering beneath the surface. Every glance, every touch felt charged, as if holding back a force neither of you could ignore. There was no pretending, no easy way to make it something light. What you shared demanded more, something deeper, something that couldn’t be confined to the surface.

“Yeah. You’re right. I don’t want nothing casual when it comes to you”

You lazily dried your hands with the dishcloth she kept by the sink, your movements slow and almost reluctant. Turning around, still wrapped in her arms, you looked up at her, a hint of defeat in your eyes. Her gaze met yours, and you felt the weight of everything unsaid pressing between you.

“This is a bad idea” You whispered as you felt her warm hands cupping your cheeks. Her thumb sweetly caresses the skin just like she had done it the other night.

"No... It'll be a bad idea if I continue to live without having you here," she murmured, her voice vulnerable and sweet, like you'd never heard it before. The softness in her tone caught you off guard, as if every word was wrapped in a quiet honesty, the kind that made her seem more fragile than you’d ever imagined. Her eyes held yours with an intensity that spoke volumes, and for the first time, you saw a side of her that was completely unguarded, raw and full of longing.

So you nodded your head, a quiet agreement settling in your chest. The thought of not having her, of continuing on and only ever complaining about how you didn't have her, seemed almost unbearable now.

Because just like your friends have heard countless times. You’ve missed Wanda’s hands, Wanda’s kisses, Wanda’s hugs, Wanda’s couch, Wanda’s cooking,. You missed Wanda in her entirety. You wanted to hear, to feel, to taste, to touch, to look at her everyday.

And if this was a bad idea, you’d rather see the movie all over again, even if the ending ached too much. It was better than not having her at all. It was enough.

✄╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌

thanks for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it💌

masterlist

#mcu #wanda maximoff #wanda #marvel #wanda x reader #Wanda x Y/N #Wanda x you #wlw #ex-lovers #second chance romance #Spotify

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