#this is probably the longest post i have ever written | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

asahicore · 8 months ago

Text

cold hands - psh (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact

pairing. sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis. plot plot plot what is a plot when you can just have vibes and a vague narrative direction... if you MUST know you go to your brother's hockey team back-to-uni party accidentally matching one of the members with your cowgirl barbie costume. hopelessly romantic sunghoon sees this as a sign that the two of you are meant to be together, but you're impossible to read and soon the two of you settle on an ambiguous secret friends with benefits relationship. unfortunately, conflict ensues.

genre. strangers to friends to fwb to lovers..?? its not an asahicore fic if it doesnt have fluff angst AND smut, brothers best friend, jock x nerd type vibe, slight miscommunication put your pitchforks away and hear me out pls it works out i promise, reader has ISSUES 💜 loser loverboy sunghoon, its mostly in his pov, i know nothing about ice hockey

word count. 39.5k 😂

a/n. inspired by @moonlighthoon's request for the 1k trope event! sorry it took ages to write but i hope you like it and that i met ur expectations!!!! hope everyone else enjoys it too, this is the longest fic ive ever written and im quite proud of it, pls pls pls let me know what u thought <333 shoutout to @zreamy .. good luck with your studies, thank u for beta reading and making this fic exponentially better as u always do ⭐️ credit to @/plutism for the dividers :)

Some men never think of it. You did. You’d come along And say you’d nearly brought me flowers But something had gone wrong.

The shop was closed. Or you had doubts - The sort that minds like ours Dream up incessantly. You thought I might not want your flowers.

It made me smile and hug you then. Now I can only smile. But, look, the flowers you nearly brought Have lasted all this while. - Wendy Cope, Flowers

When Sunghoon falls in love, it usually goes as quickly as it came.

Just to name a few:

There had been Ahn Yujin, whose family had moved next to his when he was twelve, and whose dog got on perfectly with his. His crush on the cute girl next door grew with every walk the four of them took but disappeared the second she ditched him to walk home from school with Na Jaemin.

A few years later, there had been Bae Sumin, who sat in front of him and always had her hair up in a ponytail he found exceedingly pretty. An appointment at the hairdresser was enough for him to stop liking her, as if his interest in her had been laying in the ten centimeters of hair she had cut off.

In his junior year of high school, there had been Kim Yerim, a college student that tutored him in Math and English. She was three years older, but that didn’t deter him—what did was the fact that she was dating a college graduate. She showed him a picture once, and the guy had biceps probably twice the size of Sunghoon’s. He thought it was safer to give up on her than to fight such a bulky guy five years his senior.

The first time it stuck was during his first year of college. She was his coach’s daughter and he liked the way she would smile at him when she came to watch their practice. Sunghoon didn’t like to think about her, mainly because even after she broke his heart, for a while there, he continued to love her.

So, when he first spots you from across the room at the Welcome Back costume party thrown by his hockey team, unintentionally the Cowboy Barbie to his Cowboy Ken, he tries not to read too much into it. Barbie was a hit this summer, it’s an easy and topical costume, of course there’s a pretty girl wearing the same bright pink cowboy hat he is. It doesn’t mean she’s the love of his life.

Right?

He knows you from the pictures that littered the walls of Minjeong, Yunjin and Chaewon’s apartment last year, from Instagram posts, both yours and your friends’, from your video calls with Jake, who dragged him into the camera’s view. Say hi to my sister, he’d insist, like Sunghoon was a child who didn’t want to greet his great-great-aunt. He’d dip in to say hi as requested, ask how you were, and mumble me too like a fool when you said you heard so much about him and were excited to meet him in real life.

These are the things Sunghoon knows about you: Jake’s older sister by a year, currently on a year abroad in Rome, studies something fancy like Classics, which he hadn’t known people still did in the twenty-first century, deep attachment to Stardew Valley in first year, rarely seen with the same man twice, very pretty. Absurdly so. He’s also weirdly obsessed over the texts you’ve sent to the group chat he was added to at the beginning of last year—scarce, short, elusive. Never more than two sentences, and always long after the conversation was over. But sometimes you’d send photos and videos out of nowhere, of your adventures or of funny things you saw online, and he always hearted them. He even replied to it sometimes (brave hahas or that’s so cool!s), in hopes that it would make you like him, would make you think, he gets me.

The two of you have never formally met because you left for Italy the year he started university. He’s been nervous about meeting you since the first time the group told him about you.

Now that he is about to, he can hear his heart thumping so loudly in his ears, it drowns out the bass of the music. He’s glad he gets to see you before having to talk to you—he’s not sure he could take in your presence and form coherent words at the same time. He watches you laugh with your friends, the smile lines that form like dimples around your mouth, the strands of hair you keep tucking behind your ear. Then someone joins your group—except it’s not just someone, it’s Minjeong, her denim jacket so often worn he recognises her from the back, and he realizes the people you’re with have been Chaewon and Yunjin this whole time. The three of them have been banging on about you all year, even more so due to the fact that their replacement flatmate was dreadful, a Spanish girl who only hung out with other Spanish exchange students and looked the girls up and down when they tried to invite her out somewhere.

You turn towards Minjeong, and before he knows it, he’s in your line of sight, and your eyes meet. Confusion, then a flash of recognition goes through your eyes. He had been resting his elbow on a countertop, cider bottle in hand and watching you, he realizes, not unlike a creep, but now he stands up straight and looks around him as if you hadn’t just caught him staring. Before he can find a way out, Jake appears by his side and throws an arm around his shoulders, guiding him into the throng of party-goers and, coincidentally, closer to you.

“Dude, you’ll never guess what.”

“What?” Sunghoon says, tone coming out more irritated than he means it to. He’s just had to give up on making a good first impression on you, and he doesn’t even have the time to think of a way to redeem himself. When he dares to look back at you, your eyes are already on him, a small smile on your lips. You probably hate him already.

“My sister is dressed just like you. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you guys came together or something. Hey, guys!” Jake calls out, and all of a sudden, it’s not just your eyes on him, it’s everyone’s. Well, to be fair, they’re also looking at Jake. But you’re only looking at Sunghoon, and he can’t look away from you either, can’t even manage the politeness to hug everyone in greeting like Jake is doing now. He watches as your eyes rake over his figure, taking him in, assessing him, and he suddenly feels awkward in his costume that matches yours, like he’s somehow overstepped a boundary, like you might think he’s asked around about your costume, found out you were going as Barbie and decided to match you so you’d think the two of you were meant together, like he had two minutes ago, and come to the fairly reasonable decision that he was the weirdest man on Earth. But then you meet his eyes, smile a kind, genuine smile, and his whole body relaxes.

“Hey, Hoon!” Chaewon calls, arms open wide. He remembers himself and hugs everyone, even you, and he has to pretend like this is completely fine and normal, like his hands aren’t practically shaking as his arms circle your shoulders in a two-second embrace.

You squeeze one of his shoulders, and keeping his countenance is a Herculean task. He feels like those people centuries ago who passed out at the sight of a lady’s ankle. “It’s so nice to finally meet you,” you say, peering at him over the rim of your red cup. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Sunghoon feels the blush growing on his face; he wasn’t expecting so much of your attention so quickly. He takes a swig of his lukewarm cider, hoping if he seems drunk, it might explain his redness. “Good things, I hope,” he says, aware of the unoriginality but unable to come up with anything better.

“Oh, don’t worry, they’ve made you out to be a saint.” You’ve not once broken eye contact or stopped smiling—it should intimidate him, but instead, it makes Sunghoon feel like you’ve known each other for ages and that this isn’t your first conversation at all. He finds himself able to relax into a smile, and manages to meet your eyes for more than three seconds at a time.

“You don’t believe them?”

You pause, gaze zeroing in on him even more intensely than previously, smile turning smirk-like. Sunghoon’s heart skips a beat. Okay, maybe he’s not that relaxed. “I don’t know you well enough to make up my mind yet. But we’ll be seeing plenty of each other from now on, won’t we?”

This is exactly what Sunghoon has been warned about. You at parties, the way you look at guys, the way you talk to them. Sunghoon has been the audience of more than one recreation of such a scene, Yunjin pretending to be you, Chaewon pretending to be your “victim,” as the others liked to call them. Because once you had set your eyes on a man, he had little chance of making it out. Jay prides himself as being the only survivor, although he has to admit it’s only because Jake interrupted your conversation, telling him, “I see you’ve met my sister.” And Jay was not the kind of person that got off with their friends’ siblings, especially since his and Jake’s friendship was only a week long at that point, and he didn’t want to ruin the atmosphere in their dorm for the rest of the year just because his dick had gotten the best of him. His words. Whenever they were all hanging out together and they called you, one of the girls would inevitably ask if you had “turned any Italian boys into men” or if you had been “terrorizing the good men of Rome recently.” You would either roll your eyes or say this was not a conversation to be had in front of your brother.

Sunghoon had been sure they were exaggerating—it takes two to tango, as they say, and it wasn’t like you ensnared innocent men into your trap. They had to be willing, to want something from you just as much as you wanted something from them. He’d also gotten them to admit it wasn’t that frequent, that you weren’t looking for a new prey every party, just once in a while when you found someone you liked. (He’d been very quiet when Jay asked why he was trying so hard to defend you.)

But now that he is on the receiving end of your alluring smiles, he starts to understand how one could fall for you without meaning to. He knows he can’t — Jake probably wouldn’t take to it kindly, and he didn’t want to spoil the dynamic of his best group of friends at uni — but he has a feeling that ten minutes of talking to you would be enough to shake his resolve.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure we will. Jake said you studied a lot, but I’m sure we’ll get to hang out. All of us, I mean,” he quickly adds, lest you think he’s already asking you to hang out one-on-one. Sunghoon would not be that forward.

“Of course. I have to see if you did a good enough job replacing me for a year.” Sunghoon’s eyes widen, and before he can blurt out something weirdly laudatory like “I could never replace you, I would never even try, I don’t know you but you’re clearly far superior to me in every aspect and I could never even claim to fill your spot,” you giggle and tell him it’s just a joke. “If anything, I’m happy Jake has managed to make a new friend that he didn’t meet through me, that loser,” you say, and together, you laugh at Jake’s loserness, a topic that will never fail to amuse Sunghoon, although he’s not faring much better in that department.

“Like, look at him right now,” you say, jerking your head in Jake’s general direction, somewhere behind Sunghoon’s shoulder—and that’s when he realizes that it’s just the two of you standing there, the others gone without him even noticing. Sunghoon turns around, finding the girls, Jay, and a bunch of other people he vaguely recognizes huddled around Jake. They all start chanting his name as he gulps down a giant red cup of beer, then raises the empty cup over his head in victory and crumples it, beaming at the people around him.

“What is he doing?” Sunghoon asks, laughing at his friend.

“Jay called him over for a beer-off,” you explain. After a beat, you ask, “You didn’t notice?”

The implications are clear in your tone and in your eyes. In the smile playing on your lips, just shy of being a smirk. You didn’t notice because of me, is what you’re really telling Sunghoon—at least, that’s the impression he’s getting. And you’d be right. He was too busy talking to you and trying his best not to make a fool of himself to notice his friends leaving, too engrossed with you to register the sudden disappearance of four people. Across the room, where people have shifted their attention to yet another hockey player downing a sizable amount of beer, he catches Chaewon’s eyes, and she winks at him. Of course—leave it to Chaewon, to whom Sunghoon once made the mistake of drunkenly rambling about how pretty you looked in your Instagram posts last year, to give you and Sunghoon some time alone, “to get to know each other properly,” she would probably say. Although he isn’t sure that small talk over 2000s music counts as getting to know someone. According to the others, she and Yunjin started dating a month into their second year, so Chaewon has proclaimed herself as the goddess of dating and is now always trying to set people up. Sunghoon thinks she’s just living vicariously through her friends now that she has a Mrs. at home.

Because the filter usually at work between the part of Sunghoon’s brain where sentences are formed and his mouth is apparently on leave today, he says, “I do have a pretty distracting sight in front of me.” He’s immediately both mortified and impressed by this sudden bout of confidence, but then you look down and giggle, actually giggle, the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, and only pride remains.

“So, Ken?” you ask, a cute attempt to change the subject, taking the fabric of the pink bandana around his neck between your fingers. Sunghoon wonders if you’re going to yank him down to your level, and he thinks he wouldn’t have much of a problem with that.

He realizes that even though you should technically know each other’s names, you haven’t actually exchanged them, so in a confused but correcting tone, he says, “Um, Sunghoon.” He only belatedly realizes that you hadn’t gotten his name wrong, you were just making a comment on his costume, which he had completely forgotten he was wearing in the first place. Just as he’s about to backtrack and salvage what he can of the situation, you burst into laughter, hand leaving his bandana to cover your mouth as he hides his face behind his own hands, laughing along with you despite himself.

“I know your name is Sunghoon!” you exclaim. The gratification of hearing you say his name takes away some of his embarrassment. “I’m Y/N, by the way. Not Barbie.”

Sunghoon nods. “Good to know.”

The laughter gradually dies down, but your smile stays the same; wide, bright, a smile that exposes your teeth and turns your eyes into crescents. Sunghoon can’t look away. He’s awash with nerves, your gaze simultaneously planting his feet to the ground like they’re full of lead and making him light-headed. His heart is beating so fast, he can barely feel it anymore.

The two of you stand there, looking and smiling at each other, like in a cliché movie scene where everyone else at the party seems to fade into the background. He has no idea how much time has passed when you break the silence. “It really is nice to finally meet you,” you say, repeating your statement from earlier, as though you mean it more now.

“It is,” Sunghoon simply replies, because he doesn’t know how else to express the relief of seeing you in the flesh after hearing about you and looking at a digital version of you for a year. The relief, but also the anticipation of what is to come now that he knows he likes you even more now that he’s actually seen you. And improbable as it sounds, you might even feel the same.

Sunghoon can already feel it. The beginning of something.

You nod towards his now empty cup. “Want a refill?”

Together, you make your way through the crowd of increasingly drunk students until you reach the kitchen, where the countertops overflow with open bottles of liquor of all sorts and paper plates with half-eaten pizza slices on them. He watches your every move as you find a cold bottle of beer in the fridge, a bottle of strawberry syrup in a random cupboard that you had to know was there, and a half-empty discarded bottle of lemonade on the counter. You ask him to tell you about last year, everything you missed out on, and so he does. He knows you’ve probably heard it all from the others before, but you still laugh and gasp like it’s the first time you’re hearing about any of it, all the hockey games they won, Jay getting food poisoning from the sketchy pizzeria he kept eating at, Yunjin almost getting into a fistfight with a man twice her size who was flirting with Chaewon.

You assemble two drinks and hand him one of them. When he takes a sip, his eyes widen at the refreshing and sweet taste. “Good, right?” you say. “I discovered it on a trip to France last summer.”

“Thank God for France. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever enjoyed drinking beer,” he says.

“That’s probably because you can’t taste the beer at all.”

Sunghoon smiles. “Probably, yeah.”

You turn around, lower back against the counter, and take in the current kitchen population. “We really weren’t very original with our costumes tonight.” Sunghoon, who had not taken his eyes off of you this entire time, follows your gaze. He counts five partygoers dressed in some version of Barbie or Ken, and that’s just the kitchen. He doesn’t blame them—the fact that so many people came dressed in costumes at all impresses him, especially for a party on the 10th of September and not the 31st of October. The social committee of the hockey team just seems to really love themed and dress-up parties.

He chuckles, then takes a sip of his drink. It’s really nice. “Yeah, but we look the best.”

Your head whips towards him, eyes glinting with something that makes Sunghoon smile, even though he doesn’t know what you’re thinking. “Should we enter the couple’s costume contest?” you ask.

At the mention of couple, his eyes widen, his brain tricking him into thinking you’ve asked him out for a second. But when what you actually meant dawns on him, the first thing to come out of his mouth is, “There’s a couple’s costume contest?!”

“Mh-hm. The sign-up sheet should be around here.”

For what feels like the millionth time since he’s started talking to you, his face heats up. “Are non-couples allowed to enter?”

“We’re Barbie and Ken. I’d say that’s enough of a couple, don’t you think?”

Right. Because he had been thinking of Sunghoon and Y/N, while you obviously meant Barbie and Ken. In the contest, it doesn’t actually matter whether the contestants are dating in real life—it matters that their costumes match. Sunghoon knows that. He just needed a second.

He grins, deep dimples punctuating his cheeks. “Okay, let’s do it.”

Armed with your drinks, you walk around the kitchen in search of the sign-up sheet. You find it on a wall next to the dining table, which has been turned into a beer pong table for tonight’s festivities, and the sheet is almost filled with names already. Sunghoon can only hope that by midnight, when the contest is set to take place, most participants will have had too much to drink to remember it. You write your names on the list, and Sunghoon likes seeing his name in your handwriting so much he almost wants to take a picture.

“There you guys are!”

You both turn around to find Jake stumbling towards you, clearly more intoxicated than when he had left you half-an-hour ago. He rests his arms on your shoulders, forcing Sunghoon down to his height and making you stumble forwards from the sudden added weight. “I’ve been looking all over for you- You’re entering the contest?!”

For a split second, Sunghoon is scared he’s going to get scolded by Jake for trying to hit on his sister, but surprisingly, it’s you he narrows his eyes at. “Y/N, what are you roping my little Hoonie into?”

Sunghoon groans, face perpetually red at this point. Leave it to Jake to make him seem like a total loser.

You frown at your brother. “I’m not roping your little Hoonie into anything.” Sunghoon wants to bury himself alive. “We agreed on doing it together. Right?” you ask, turning towards Sunghoon and batting your eyelashes at him. It makes him feel a bit better.

He turns back to Jake. “Right. We’re just joining forces to crush the competition.”

Jake scoffs. “As if.” He snatches the pen from your hands and underlines his name as well as Kazuha’s, the girl he came with tonight, three thick black lines that almost erases the names underneath them. “You can’t beat the hockey player and cheerleader combo.”

“Those aren’t even costumes, you guys are a hockey player and a cheerleader,” you protest.

“So?” Jake simply retorts, more attitude in his tone than he would have were he sober.

“So, that defeats the whole purpose of a costume contest.”

Jake knocks on your cowboy hat, and you immediately put it back in place, glaring at him. “As if Barbie was the greatest costume ever. Whatever, let’s just play beer pong so I can defeat you guys twice in one night.”

“You’re on, Sim.”

“You’re going down, Sim.”

Sunghoon had just been watching your back-and-forth amusedly when you grab his hand, leading him to the side of the table opposite Jake. His fingers tingle under your touch, but just like that, it’s gone. He’d rather keep on holding your hand than play this stupid game, but he isn’t opposed to taking Jake’s ego down a notch, either. The boy can barely stand straight, anyway, so it probably won’t be a very tough match.

Some guy he doesn’t recognize in a striped black-and-white referee t-shirt fills most cups with beer and a couple on each side with shots of vodka—he’s so earnest, Sunghoon isn’t sure whether he’s just taking his costume-slash-role very seriously or if he has genuinely been hired to look over the beer pong matches of the night. Some order in the brutish world of college parties, Sunghoon guesses.

Minjeong, Yunjin, Chaewon and Jay appear then, exchanging a quick look at the sight of you and Sunghoon together. The two former join your team, while the two latter join Jake’s, as well as other people that Sunghoon vaguely recognizes from other parties. But by the simple action of getting behind him, they become his most trusted allies for at least this part of the night.

You’re a terrible shot, but Sunghoon makes up for it by scoring almost every round. In his defense, he only misses when you come up close to him and whisper in his ear which cup he should go for. Your breath tickles his (oddly sensitive) ears and the combined scents of the strawberry and lemonade on your tongue and your delicate perfume make his head spin. He can barely think straight, so his aim is naturally thrown off—other than that, he makes Jay drink a healthy amount of beer. He almost feels bad for his friend, but he’d arrived late at the party and needed to quickly catch up with everyone’s level of ebriety anyway.

When the opposite team is down to their last cup, a lightning bolt of luck strikes you, and your ball disappears straight into the vodka-filled cup that Jake now has the honor of downing.

Sunghoon gives you no time to celebrate, to gloatingly pump your fists in the air and point a mocking finger at your brother, because as soon as you make the shot, he wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you off the ground. When you’re on your feet again, you spin around to find a proud-looking Sunghoon beaming down at you. You burst into giggles and high-five him, your palms perfectly clapping against each other, and he threads your fingers together. A current of electricity rushes through him, and for a second, he swears it’s just the two of you in this packed room.

The moment is cut short by the loud cheers of the others on your team as they shake your shoulders and raise their hands for you to high-five them too. Minjeong flips the other team off and Yunjin has to go hug Chaewon and reassure her it’s nothing personal. It’s really quite easy to make college students happy—or devastated.

You raise your eyebrows at Jake, who’s busy glaring at you instead of accepting his defeat and taking his shot. With a begrudging sigh, he tips his head back and drinks the vodka in one gulp, the cheers doubling in volume when his face scrunches at the bitter taste of the liquor.

“Don’t act so proud,” he scolds you. “Sunghoon carried your team.”

“Maybe, but she made us win in the end,” Sunghoon retorts, putting an arm around your shoulder.

Jake scoffs, frowning at Sunghoon’s hand placement before eye-rolling his gaze away. “Whatever.” He slides his phone out of his back pocket and smiles as he shows the two of you his screen. “Would you look at the time? The contest is starting soon.” Then, with an accusatory finger pointed at you, adds, “You may have won this battle, but I’m winning the war.”

He stomps away, presumably to find Kazuha before the contest starts, and it’s your turn to eye-roll at his dramatics. You grab Sunghoon’s hand that hangs off of your shoulders, and together, make your way through the crowd again to the garage, where the contest is taking place. All the alcohol he’s been drinking has definitely started kicking in by now, and he finds himself giggling at nothing with you.

When you reach the threshold, still hand in hand, Sunghoon stops so abruptly behind you that you almost stumble. You look back at him, then follow his gaze towards the garage and the sheer amount of people in there. Worriedly, his eyes take in every single one of the contenders. You let go of his hand and stand in front of him, placing your hands on his shoulders and putting on a determined expression. You’d almost look like a parent reassuring their kid before their first day of kindergarten if you weren’t so much shorter than him. “Don’t even worry about them, Sunghoon. We look better than anyone here.”

His eyebrows crease. “There’s like, three other Barbie-Ken couples here. Some of these costumes are so original. And do you see their makeup? Is that even possible?” he asks, staring at a couple in scarily realistic cosplay of Simon and Jeanette from Alvin and the Chipmunks, fur and all. He can’t look at them for too long without getting chills.

You shake your head. “Almost everyone here is either a hockey player or a… hockey-affiliated person. You’re the beloved and talented defenseman of the team and I’m the star player’s sister. They’ll love us,” you say with a smile, watching the worry dissipate from his features.

“We’re like nepo babies,” he whispers. His lips break into a grin when your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I don’t know how nepotism works,” he admits, smiling wider when you burst into laughter. “How do you know if I’m talented, anyway? You haven’t seen me play yet.”

Your eyes rake him up and down appreciatively. “I took a wild guess.”

Not unlike a cartoon character, Sunghoon audibly gulps. As a hockey player since his most tender age, and dare he say, a pretty good-looking guy, he is used to girls flirting with him, and he is even hit sometimes by the occasional lightning strike of confidence that allows him to flirt back (he still can’t believe he managed to call you “a distracting sight” without spontaneously combusting). But there’s something in your eyes, in your smile, in the way you talk—something about you that has his breath hitching and his heart racing. He doesn’t know if he wants to run away and hide in a corner or kiss you right then and there.

Heeseung, the captain of the hockey team, announces into a microphone (which Sunghoon wonders where they got the money for) that the contest will start now, so he can neither kiss you nor run away. Instead, he follows you to the side of the room where all the contestants, including Jake and Kazuha, wait for their names to be called out. There are so many participants, it takes way longer than Sunghoon would like for the two of you to step onto the makeshift stage. Judging by the looks on the audience’s faces, everyone is surprised to see you and Sunghoon together—the hockey community at your university may be big, but everyone knows everyone, and gossip travels fast. No one had seen you and Sunghoon together before, for the obvious reason that you hadn’t even met before tonight. But you could be sure that by tomorrow, as silly as it sounds, word will have gone around that you and Sunghoon had participated in a couple costume contest together.

At least, you give them something of substance to talk about—as you and Sunghoon pose on stage, wearing your brightest smiles to please the crowd, you stand on your toes and press a kiss to Sunghoon’s cheek. Sunghoon’s eyes burn a hole in the side of your face but you just watch as the audience of drunken 20-somethings goes wild over something as simple as a peck on the cheek. Jake is the only one booing.

Sunghoon is still in shock when the next couple is called forward and you have to step off. His cheeks are redder than before and he can’t quite meet your eyes. Apparently, he also goes wild over something as simple as a peck on the cheek. You nudge his shoulder. “See, I told you they’d like us.”

He feels like a fourteen-year-old for it, but Sunghoon can’t stop thinking about your soft lips against his cheek, so much so that he barely says a word as the three judges deliberate. If you notice the sudden change in his behavior, you don’t comment on it, perhaps chalking it up to nerves. He’s glad for it—he doesn’t know if he could handle being teased about it, especially from you. Although he’s not sure he wants you to think he’s the kind to stress over a last-minute Halloween costume contest.

In the end, you don’t win. He suspects it was a rigged contest all along: the couple in the unimpressive Edward and Bella costume are friends with one of the judges, probably leading to their anticlimactic victory. At least it isn’t Simon and Jeannette who win, or Kazuha and Jake, even less original than the winners. Anyway, Sunghoon couldn’t care any less. With your hand in his as you walk back to the main room in search of your other friends, he feels like the biggest victor of the night. He doesn’t even mind it when his teammates tease him about his costume and how good the two of you look together—the smile you shoot him makes putting up with it worth it. He tries to think straight, but between the alcohol and your proximity, he feels like you’ve cast a spell on him.

Jake stumbles into your group, three drinks drunker than when Sunghoon last saw him, enthusiastically reporting that a game of spin the bottle is about to start in one of the rooms upstairs, because what every college party needs is a middle-school game to shake things up. None of the guys seem particularly interested until Jake reveals that the cheerleaders are playing.

Sunghoon looks down at you, laughing when he sees your mildly disgusted moue. “Don’t feel like playing?”

“Not really, no.” Your eyes linger on his face. “There’s only one person here I want to kiss, anyway.”

All capacity for thought leaves Sunghoon’s brain. He just stares back at you blankly, lips slightly agape, willing himself to say something but also terrified that whatever leaves his mouth might make him seem like the biggest loser ever.

You couldn’t possibly mean him—but did you? Was he the person you wanted to kiss?

As these questions resound through his head, your gaze drops to his lips. There’s his answer.

His heart beating wildly in its cage, Sunghoon decides to do one smart thing tonight and leans in, slowly but surely closing the gap between the two of you. Then a sudden vibration in the back pocket of his jeans zaps through him like lightning and he jumps back, as if startled out of the trance you had put him in. Shame flooding his cheeks, he checks his phone; it’s the stupid alarm he set himself earlier to make sure he doesn’t get home too late. Midnight, Cinderella-style.

You scratch the back of your neck as your eyes dart around the room. For the first time tonight, you look embarrassed—Sunghoon is in disbelief at how pretty you look even then. “I, um,” he starts, clears his throat. “I have this thing tomorrow morning, so I can’t stay too long…” he says guiltily.

He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but he swears that what he sees on your face is disappointment. It makes him want to take it all back, to stay here with you for as long as you want and forget about tomorrow morning.

“Oh, right,” you say, nodding. “That’s fine. What thing?”

“Oh.” Sunghoon turns an impossibly deeper shade of red, further resembling the strawberry syrup the more he gets himself in these embarrassing situations with you. “Just… choir. I go to choir on Saturday mornings.” He looks down at his feet like he’s just revealed a secret, shameful part of himself.

You burst into laughter, and Sunghoon is scared for a second that you’re making fun of him, and his feelings are a lot more hurt than they should be by someone he just met. Although, to be fair, you don’t feel like someone he just met.

“That’s so cool! It must be such a nice change from all the dudes on the hockey team,” you say, a sweet, curious smile on your lips. Like you mean what you say. Like you might want to know more.

Sunghoon thinks he just fell in love.

He chuckles. “Yeah. Definitely a nice change. As much as I love hockey, it’s nice to do something calmer, you know. And I like singing. And the cakes the local grandmas bring.”

“So that’s what it’s all about, really.”

“Yep, you caught me.” Sunghoon still feels the almost-kiss lingering, a tension between the two of you that has him on edge. He feels like he’s just missed his bus because it left a minute earlier than planned. The opportunity is gone, and he would definitely mess everything up, trying to kiss you now. So instead, he decides to leave. Whatever must happen, will happen, even if it’s not tonight. You have the same friends—this is definitely not the last time you will see each other. “Well, I should probably head. I have to be up at eight tomorrow.”

“Oh, wow. The choir grandmas don’t play around.”

“They really don’t.”

“Well, see you around then,” you say, a clumsy laugh falling from your lips as you wrap your arms around Sunghoon’s neck, bringing him into a tight but short hug. You also smell good, he notes to himself. Of course you do.

“See you, Y/N.” Just as he’s about to turn away, you wrap your hand around his wrist.

“Wait. Sunghoon?” He’s only half-surprised at the immense relief he feels to hear his name on your lips. Like you, too, didn’t want to part with him just yet.

“Yeah?” he says, wishing the hope and anticipation aren’t too obvious on his face.

“Where’s that choir of yours?”

When Sunghoon arrives at his neighborhood’s community center, ten minutes before nine a.m., you’re already there. Despite the seven hours of sleep under his belt, he feels like he could’ve done with three more, and the singular cup of instant black coffee he had for breakfast was both atrocious and useless. But your smile has the restorative effect of two Red Bulls and a power nap. You look surprisingly bright, like you either managed to get a very good night’s sleep or are just the biggest morning person to ever exist.

He hugs you when he reaches you on the sidewalk, tighter than he probably should, but you return it. You smell like fresh soap and sugar. The two of you exchange quick greetings before he leads you inside the center.

“I made some cookies as well.” You point to your tote bag and Sunghoon’s jaw slackens.

“You had time to bake?”

“Kazuha made me take Jägerbombs, so I felt crazy when I got home. I thought it wouldn’t be fair on the old ladies if they did all the work.”

Sunghoon laughs. “They’re going to love you.”

You follow Sunghoon up two flights of stairs and into a spacious room with a wooden stage. There’s a snacks table on one side of the room that is almost fully decked with plates and tupperwares of all sorts, and although their contents remain covered by tin foil or lids, the coffee and hot water pots are free to use. Most of the chairs are stacked on each side of the room but a few have been put in the middle, the grandmas sitting and chatting there waving at Sunghoon as the two of you walk in. There are about fifteen people in the room so far, most of them older ladies, but not only. There’s a dad that came with his daughter, a couple of teenagers, and a few other adults. It’s quite an eclectic mix, and Sunghoon loves it.

Minjeong is here, too, which Sunghoon realizes he forgot to say until he sees the sheer confusion of finding someone you know in an unexpected place on both of your faces. She walks towards you, suspicious eyes darting between you two.

“Hey,” she says only to Sunghoon before turning to you, arms crossed over her chest. “And what are you doing here?”

“Hi, Minjeong, so nice to see you too!”

“I invited Y/N,” Sunghoon says quickly, although you did technically invite yourself. For some reason, he feels the need to defend you, even though he knows you and Minjeong have been friends for years now, and Minjeong is just always this blunt.

“I didn’t know this was the choir you went to,” you say to Minjeong.

“Oh, this?” She looks around the room. “It’s only the choir I’ve been going to since I was a kid. You’d know that if today wasn’t the first day you showed interest in it, ever.”

“I came to your concerts!”

One of the old ladies calls Sunghoon’s name from the snack table, and he is glad for the diversion. “Right. I’ll let you guys talk this out.” A hand on your shoulder, he smiles down at you. “I’m gonna say hi to the ladies over there. Be back in a minute.” He shoots Minjeong a look as if to say, Be normal.

As he approaches the small group, one of them asks very loudly if you’re his girlfriend. They all burst into giggles, blushing and eager-eyed like they’re sixteen rather than sixty. Sunghoon would be endeared if you didn’t look so alarmed and Minjeong so horrified, both of you looking at him before turning back to each other and getting into a very heated and secretive discussion. He is bombarded with a hundred questions: what your name is, where you’re from, how did the two of you meet, are you together? No? But you’re so pretty! And he’s such a nice boy! He answers all of their queries to the best of his ability while checking that your conversation with Minjeong hasn’t turned physical—your arms are now also crossed over your chest, and you look annoyed while she looks like she’s accusing you of something, but at least, punches aren’t being thrown.

Thankfully, it’s only a couple more minutes until the conductor calls for everyone to gather on stage, and a weight is lifted off of Sunghoon’s shoulders once the ladies’ collective attention is no longer on him. He isn’t sure where they came from, or why they’ve decided to make the choir rehearsal their hang-out spot, but there is always a group of women who sit there and knit while chatting quietly or listening to the songs, and they are sometimes joined by children whose parents are part of the choir but don’t want to sing themselves and apparently have nowhere else to go. Sunghoon had been so excited at the prospect of having you come see him that he hadn’t thought of how boring this might be for you, sitting with sixty-year-olds for two hours, listening to an amateur choir go through scales and sing corny romance ballads—they’re rehearsing for a wedding they’ve been hired to sing at. But as the minutes go by, his worry dissipates when the delighted smile on your face hardly falters. He can’t imagine that his choir is that good, but you genuinely look like you’re having a nice time, and it makes Sunghoon stand a little taller, sing a little louder. Your eyes are on him for most of the time, and he blushes every time your gazes meet, but he still can’t keep himself from looking away from the conductor to check on you every few seconds.

Once rehearsal is over, everyone gathers around the refreshments table. When you tell Sunghoon that he looked good out there, he stuffs his mouth with banana bread to stop himself from blurting out something stupid. Your cookies are a hit, and so is everything else—Sunghoon would be more than happy to watch you eat as many baked goods as you possibly can and chat with the grandmas, but he has something to ask you. Without thinking much, he wraps his fingers around your wrist, gently pulling you away from the table and towards him. The question that was at the tip of his tongue fades as soon as you meet his eyes, looking up at him like a deer caught in headlights, cheeks stuffed with brownie. You’re so cute that words fail him for a second, and when he notices the proximity between the two of you, takes a small, bashful step backwards. You glance at his hand still around your wrist, and he withdraws it like he’s suddenly been burned.

A playful smile grows on your lips. “Everything alright?”

He scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. I just, um, well. There’s a bus that takes us from right across the street directly to the beach, if you’re, um, if you’re interested. In going. With me. If you want.”

Your eyebrows cock in surprise, and Sunghoon thinks he’s messed it all up. You shoot Minjeong a quick, worried glance, then seem to think for a second. But when you look back to him, your smile is soft. “That sounds nice.”

An hour later, you’re running around together on the beach—or rather, Sunghoon is running around, and after five minutes of watching him with a smile on your face, he’s convinced you to run around with him. You’ve both long discarded your shoes and socks, jeans scrunched up to your mid-calves, grins so wide, your cheeks start to hurt. The wet sand is hard under your feet and the water cold against your skin. Sunghoon’s t-shirt sticks everywhere you sprayed water on him, and he knows putting his shoes on later will be a whole ordeal, but it doesn’t bother him. Even the gray September sky feels brighter because you’re standing with him underneath it.

The water-splashing battle quickly has you both out of breath, and Sunghoon is ready to call a truce when you spot something behind him, gasping and running towards it. He turns around to find you picking up a bunch of sandcastle-building toys that must’ve been left behind by some kids. “I haven’t built a sandcastle in such a long time, this is so exciting,” you say, excitement written all over your face.

As much as he loves seeing the glint of childish amusement in your eyes, Sunghoon keeps looking around in case the owners of these toys might appear out of thin air. “I feel like there’s something immoral about this,” he says, and you stop stacking sand into one of the toys to look at him with a confused frown. “Aren’t we technically stealing from some kids?”

“Sunghoon. If those kids really cared about these plastic toys, they wouldn’t have left them here.”

“What if they come back for them?”

“Then we’ll give them back. We’re not monsters.” That’s all it takes for Sunghoon to give in. He helps dig trenches around the towers you build, carving out small windows on them and apologizing profusely when he accidentally pokes too hard into one of them, destroying half of it.

The second he notices you shivering, Sunghoon is on his feet, unwrapping the scarf around his neck and laying it like a blanket over your shoulders. “I’m going to get us something warm to drink. I’ll be back in a minute!” he announces before you can even protest, and practically runs to the nearest café.

He only leaves you and the slightly pathetic-looking sandcastle alone for a minute, quickly coming back with two take-away cups of milky Earl Grey tea and a brownie that he couldn’t help himself from buying. The moan you let out when you bite into it, gooey, sweet chocolate sticking to your teeth, goes straight down Sunghoon’s spine, but he tries not to let his thoughts get too carried away.

“Good, right?” he asks, laughing when you nod fervently. When you laugh too, it’s a sound so sweet, it rivals the decadence of the brownie. “I sometimes make the trip all the way here just for this.”

“I thought I’d be done with sweets after this morning, but this is so good.”

“Better than Berta’s banana bread?”

“Oh, a hundred percent,” you say, covering your mouth with your hand as you speak. “Sorry, Berta. I’ll be thinking about this for the rest of my life.”

Sunghoon hopes you’ll remember him as the boy who’d introduced you to those brownies, if nothing else.

The two of you are silent for a little bit, but it’s a comfortable silence—something Sunghoon didn’t know was possible with someone he’d just met. This was something he loved about the sea: it allowed for some quiet. The crashing of the waves against the shore, the calls of the seagulls, the dogs barking after them—it all meant he didn’t need to fill the space with needless chatter. He could look out at the peaceful water, you by his side, and just enjoy the moment.

“I’m still so amazed whenever I come to the beach, no matter how many times it’s been.” Sunghoon’s voice is quiet when he speaks, lower than usual. It sounds a lot more intimate than he means it to be. You turn your head to look at him, silently asking him to go on. There’s a small smile playing on his lips, a twinkle in his eyes as he watches the water. “The town I grew up in is right in the middle of the country, so the sea is like, a five-hour drive. There was a lake nearby, but it was nothing compared to this. It might sound silly, but being from somewhere where everyone knows each other, I never realized just how big the world was until I came here and saw the sea for the first time.”

“You’d never been to the sea before coming here?” you ask, surprise clear in your voice.

He shakes his head. “My hometown isn’t far from the mountains, so it’s a huge tourist spot both in the winter and in the summer, which meant my mom had to work even when my sister and I were out of school and could actually go on holiday. We’d go visit my grandparents and aunts when we found the time, but that was it.” He meets your gaze, a smile playing on his lips at the thought of his hometown and his family. “This is the furthest I’ve ever been from home.”

The corners of your lips raise into a smile too, matching Sunghoon’s. “And how has that been going?”

He sighs. “It’s okay. I miss my mom and sister like crazy, of course, but they FaceTime me so much that I barely notice it. And anyways, it’s also nice to be on my own. Discover another part of myself, and all that.”

“For sure.”

There’s a slight shift in your expression that Sunghoon catches onto, a falter in your smile and a hint of sadness in your eyes. He doesn’t want to force a topic that you don’t want to talk about, so he just gently eggs you on, in case all you need is a small push.

“What about you? I think Jake mentioned you guys growing up around here, only an hour or so away.”

At the mention of your brother, the smile returns to your eyes. You take a deep breath and think for a bit, but eventually, you start talking. Although Sunghoon’s eyes are on you, you keep yours trained on the sea. “Yeah, we did. We live just up the coast, so we were always hanging out at the beach. In a way, it’s nice having the sea here as well. It’s like-I don’t know.”

“Like having a piece of home even when you’re away?”

Your gazes meet for just a second, the surprise clear in your eyes, but as quickly as it came, it’s gone, and you turn away from Sunghoon once more. “Basically, yeah.” A sardonic smile appears on your lips. “Although the constant reminder isn’t always appreciated.”

He tilts his head. When you don’t say anything further, he flicks some sand onto your hand and asks you what you mean by that. He looks at you with curiosity and kindness only, eager to know more about you, to let you know that you can open up to him, that he won’t judge you, but careful not to overstep any boundaries either. It seems to work.

“It might sound stupid, but back home, the beach was a place I could go to when it all was a bit too much, you know? Like an escape from everyday life. Where I could forget about all of the pressure on my shoulders.” Sunghoon hums, and you take another deep breath. “I don’t know if you and Jake talk about this sort of thing, but… our parents are barely nice when we do well, and pretty awful when we don’t reach their expectations. So we were like, constantly having to outdo ourselves just for them to say, ‘Keep it up’, or something like that. And if we did something wrong, well…”

You trail off, but Sunghoon knows what you mean. “Yeah, Jake said they barely spoke to him anymore because he decided to play hockey instead of becoming, like, a doctor or something.”

You smile, but it’s humorless. “Yep. They send him money, and he comes home for a bit over Christmas and summer break, but that’s it. I’ve gone home by myself sometimes and they won’t even mention him, it’s insane.”

“He also doesn’t talk about it a lot.”

“I know. I’m always the one to bring it up. I know it’s a sensitive topic for him, obviously, but I still find it amazing how well he deals with it. But me… despite everything, I still need their approval, you know?” you ask, and Sunghoon nods.

“That makes sense.”

You sigh. “I guess. And I’m obviously not becoming a doctor like them. Not a medical one, at least. It took a year of convincing them that doing the degree I’m doing was okay. ‘Cause at the end of the day, it’s still me filling in my university applications, and they can’t actually force me to go to medical school, but I still wanted them to be proud of me. Even if I study languages.” It’s quiet for a few seconds as you both look out at the waves crashing against the shore. When you start talking again, you look down at the sand, picking it up and letting it filter through your fingers. “So, yeah. Jake got a scholarship here, and I didn’t wanna be too far from home, so here we are. We’re so close to home, the sea I went to when I needed a break in high school and the sea I go to now are one and the same. And now it reminds me of my parents rather than making me forget about them.”

“I’m sorry for bringing you here,” Sunghoon says. “I didn’t think…”

You cut him off with a smile. “It’s okay. Now I’ve created new memories. Nice ones. And you know… wherever I am, it’ll be at the back of my mind. It’s up to me whether I let it affect my life or not.”

“Letting go of these things is never easy,” Sunghoon offers. “You also can’t blame yourself if it does affect you sometimes.”

When you look at Sunghoon, your eyes darting back-and-forth between his like they’re searching for something there, he feels himself tense up slightly. He can’t read you at all, has no idea what you’re thinking even as you smile and say, “You’re right.” Even as you silently link your pinky with his, gazing down at your hands with a small smile. He hadn’t realized how cold his hands were until this small touch, so small yet able to spread warmth throughout his entire body. When he speaks, he can’t bring himself to meet your eyes—he’s still so focused on where your hands touch, too aware of the skin of your finger right against his. Such a small, innocent touch. He can’t even begin to understand why it means so much to him.

“For what it’s worth, I think what you’re doing is super cool,” he says. “I’ve always been so shit at foreign languages, let alone dead languages. And packing your bags and going abroad for a year, not everybody can do that. Becoming a doctor might be hard, but it also takes a specific kind of person to do what you do. And what Jake does. It’s all valuable.”

“Now, if you could say that again while I record you to show my parents, please,” you say, making him laugh.

“It’d be my pleasure.”

“What about you?” you ask him after a small pause. “I can’t be the only one who trauma-dumps on the first date.”

Sunghoon’s breath hitches in his throat. He hadn’t even dared entertain the thought that this might be more than a platonic hang-out in case he was crossing a line—but you’ve just called it a date. With just a few casual words, you’ve changed the entire meaning of the hours you’ve spent together. He hopes you can’t tell how flustered it’s made him.

“Well, there’s not much trauma to dump, really. Sorry.”

You giggle. “Don’t apologize. That’s a good thing.”

Now that you’ve just opened up about your parents, Sunghoon is scared that telling you about how good of a childhood he had might come off as insensitive—but you smile softly at him, holding his hand face-up in yours, tracing the lines of his palm with the tip of a finger, and he starts talking. “So, it was just me, my older sister and my mom growing up. My dad died when I was 2.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It is a bit sad that I don’t have any memories of him, but everyone who knew him said he was a great guy. And my mom’s had this boyfriend since I was like, 10? He’s the one who got me to start hockey. So it hasn’t been that bad.”

“Your mom must be really strong.”

Sunghoon smiles. “She is. She’s amazing. To raise two kids on your own while grieving and not royally fuck up is… well, amazing. She’s always been so supportive of us, no matter what we wanted to do. My sister did well at school, but I wasn’t so good. I never really enjoyed it, but she’s never made me feel bad about it. She didn’t mind that all I wanted to do was hit a puck around.”

“And you’re pretty good at hitting that puck around, aren’t you?”

“I’m not so bad,” Sunghoon says, chuckling along with you. He’s about to go on, but he is cut off by a raindrop hitting his hand, then another one; before either of you know it, your clothes are soaked through. Sunghoon takes his denim jacket off, using it as a makeshift umbrella for the both of you as you run towards the nearest awning, shaking with giddy laughter until you forget about the chilly rain and the clothes sticking to your skin. When it doesn’t let up for another few minutes, Sunghoon suggests catching the bus back, and you agree.

The heating on the bus is set on low, but it’s enough to warm Sunghoon up as soon as he steps onto it. You sit at the back in a corner of your own, multiple rows away from the other people onboard. The two of you are relatively quiet, lost in your own thoughts until Sunghoon, after much internal deliberating, takes one of your hands in his and interlaces your fingers together. You look up at him, but he doesn’t return your gaze, eyes fixed on the window to hide his shy smile and the blush slowly staining his cheeks. To his surprise, you squeeze his hand and rest your head on his shoulder. He freezes for a second, unsure how to react to your reciprocated affection, but he makes himself relax into your touch, and starts brushing his thumb back-and-forth on the back of your hand. The sudden storm has made day turn to night a little earlier today, and with the quiet hum of the bus, he finds himself on the edge of sleep for the whole ride—the only thing keeping him awake is his booming heart.

The bus is nearing his stop when the buzz of his phone in his back pocket jolts him awake. You lift your head from his shoulder, massaging your neck as you fish your phone out of your own pocket. Sunghoon, more intrigued by you than by whoever has texted him, watches as the brightness of your screen makes you wince. Once you’ve read the text, you turn towards him, sleepy eyes and sleepy voice as you ask him whether he’s seen “this,” referring to a text from Chaewon. dinner at our flat tonight!!! come whenever. bring drinks.

“Oh, I forgot she was doing that tonight,” you say through a yawn.

Sunghoon chuckles. “Do you have enough energy for it?”

“I always have enough energy for Chaewon’s cooking.”

You and Sunghoon make a pit-stop at a grocery store to buy two bottles of white wine and the hummus Chaewon likes, then head to your flat. Naturally, questions are asked when you and Sunghoon arrive at the exact same time, but before Sunghoon can explain that you spent the day together, Minjeong’s head pops out of the kitchen door, and she asks whether you ran into each other downstairs. Chaewon is only looking at the both of you, waiting for an answer, so she doesn’t see the very pointed look Minjeong gives you, as if to say Agree with me or else. You quickly glance at Sunghoon then say, “Yeah, we just arrived at the same time.” When they’ve both turned away, you tell him in a hushed tone that you’ll ask her about it later.

The girls are busy in the small kitchen and Chaewon insists that they don’t need any more help, so you and Sunghoon bring two chairs by the kitchen door and sit as Yunjin catches the four of you up on the most recent drama in her Law cohort. Jay arrives twenty minutes later, but it isn’t another hour before Jake shows up with the excuse that he was taking a nap.

“Someone would think you don’t sleep at night, with the amount of naps you take,” you say.

“Oh my God, I miss when you weren’t here,” Jake replies, flicking your forehead before promptly plopping himself down on the couch. “I was so hungover when I woke up. I had to sleep it off,” he explains as he grabs four cans of beer from his backpack.

Chaewon always makes a point to ask how everyone’s spent their day, but today, she unfortunately starts with Sunghoon, so he doesn’t have any time to come up with anything believable other than the truth, which is exactly what he does—and when Jay asks, What, to the beach by yourself? under Minjeong’s heavy gaze, he has no choice but to say yes. He isn’t sure why it’s such a big deal that you spent the day with him, or why it needs to be kept a secret, but there must be a reason. He’ll find out later. When it’s your turn, you look straight into Sunghoon’s eyes as you say you spent the day at the library but didn’t get much work done. Everyone ignores Jake when he exclaims Boring! and Chaewon swiftly moves onto Jay.

But you don’t.

Your eyes stay on Sunghoon, unflinchingly watching him, expression unreadable, and he finds himself unable to look away, even as he feels his face heat up and his stomach flip. Then you smile, a satisfied smirk like you got what you wanted, and shift your gaze to Jay, who’s going on and on about the first six episodes of Lost he binge-watched earlier and wondering why nobody had told him about this “masterpiece of a show” before. Sunghoon is too busy thinking about the way you’d looked at him and pondering all the reasons for it to listen carefully. He watched Lost when he was fourteen anyway.

All throughout the evening, as the seven of you eat Chaewon’s pasta dish (which she made entirely from scratch, and is probably one of the best things to have ever graced Sunghoon’s taste buds), drink, talk, and afterwards, play card games, every glance between you and Sunghoon feels like a secret conversation that only the two of you are privy to. No one except for Minjeong is aware that you spent the day just the two of you until now—and even she doesn’t know what it is you did. Within a day of knowing each other, you already share memories that are yours and no one else’s. Sunghoon is giddy with the knowledge, heart skipping every time your eyes meet, no matter how fleetingly. When you’re all saying goodbye, it takes everything in him not to hug you for an awkwardly long time and to tear himself away from you.

He can hardly fall asleep that night.

For the entirety of the year you were gone, Sunghoon could only nod and smile while the others bemoaned your absence or commented on how much more fun it’d be if you were here (even Jake, after enough wine spritzers, would admit to missing you). He understood that the group dynamics might feel different to them without you around, but this particular set of people was all he knew, so he never minded it. It reminded him of people telling him how sad it must’ve been growing up without a father, trying to be empathetic, when he didn’t know how he could miss something he never had.

But now that you’re here, he gets it. You add something to the group that he can’t quite put his finger on. It’s in your affectionate gestures towards Chaewon and Yunjin, in your shared sense of humor with Jay (which no one else seems to find funny, save for Sunghoon, sometimes), in your bickering with Minjeong and downright arguing with Jake. It’s a hackneyed expression, but you do light up a room—at least in Sunghoon’s opinion, you do. In your presence, everything feels not only more lively, but also more cohesive, like you were the missing piece of a puzzle. Like a historic work of art that has been returned to its rightful owner.

Sunghoon just finds himself drawn to you, at times unable to keep his eyes off of you, and the only things keeping him from making a move are his inherent shyness and the eyes of your friends. He doesn’t want to mess up the friendship he has with anyone from the group, least of all Jake, just because he can’t keep it in his pants. He thought of Yunjin and Chaewon, how their relationship had gone smoothly from the beginning and posed no problem to the dynamic of the group, but he had no idea if this was replicable between you and him at all.

If he had to be honest, a big part of him was also just afraid you’d reject him.

Getting a read on you is hard, which doesn’t help. It’s been three weeks since the gang reunited, since that party where you met. The first semester of his second and your fourth year started a little bit over a week ago; Sunghoon sometimes worries that you think there is some big age gap between you and that you see him as a kid, even though, admittedly, two years is not such a huge difference. In those three weeks, there have been many encounters which could be seen as cases of flirting between the two of you—Sunghoon has noticed every single one of them and replayed each an embarrassing amount of times in his head. A hand carefully posited on his shoulder; prolonged eye contact; jokes whispered in his ear at a crowded house party; knees lightly touching at first, then pressed together during movie night. None of it ever fails to make Sunghoon’s heart flutter. You could breathe in his general direction and it’d make his heart beat fast enough to worry a cardiologist, so when you smile at him, it’s a small death every time.

And so he dares hope that his interest isn’t one-sided—although most of the time, he is so stuck between thinking none of it means anything and thinking every single thing you do is a sign that you like him, that he rarely knows what to think. And whenever you’ve paid him enough attention to make him believe it’s not all in his head, you do something that proves him wrong. Watching you interact with other people, he realizes that you keep good eye contact with everyone and that you’re just as touchy and playful with all of your friends. At parties, you hit it off with new people and catch up with old friends without so much as a hint of awkwardness. He watches as you talk to other guys, the same smile that has been making him weak for the past three weeks, directed towards them and not him. Sunghoon assumes you’re either really nice to everyone and oblivious to the fact that it could be seen as flirting, or you just flirt with everyone.

In that sense, the two of you are complete opposites. Sunghoon, whose entire friend group hangs on the fact that he befriended Jay, who knew Jake, who knew you, Minjeong, Yunjin and Chaewon. Sunghoon who has spoken to maybe half of his hockey team outside of the locker rooms and the occasional party. Sunghoon who, outside of his usual friend group, has managed to make three other friends on his own in the year he’s been at university, because they had been put in a group project and magically hit it off enough to upgrade from classmates to friends.

Then there’s you, who has to stop every thirty seconds at a party to say hi to someone you know. You, who still keeps in touch with the friends you made in a foreign country, even those who spoke broken English. You, who didn’t make Sunghoon feel like his crippling shyness was a problem when you first met.

He doesn’t understand how everyone who meets you doesn’t instantly fall in love.

Or maybe they do, and he’s just one of many vying for your heart.

Tonight is one of the nights where all he can do is watch from afar as you interact with another man that he desperately wishes was him. With your lower back against the kitchen counter, drink in hand as you laugh with that other guy, eyes never leaving his face, it almost looks like someone has copied your time with Sunghoon at the costume party and pasted it onto this post-hockey game party. All you’re missing is a bright pink cowgirl hat and boots to match.

And yet, it’s his team jacket over your shoulders, his name and number on your back. Sunghoon shouldn’t feel nearly as jealous as he does.

So he does what any good friend would do, and blames Jay for reasons completely unwarranted—even now, days after receiving his advice, and hours after taking it, Sunghoon still can’t help but regret involving him at all.

Initially, Sunghoon hadn’t wanted to tell anyone about his growing feelings for you—he’d thought that if he pushed them away and kept them to himself, they’d go away on their own. But clearly, they didn’t, seeing as how his stomach always twisted in nervous excitement at the prospect of seeing you and how he could never get through a conversation with you without blushing. So, quicker than he’d like to admit, he’d given in and told Jay about the day you’d spent at the beach and how felt about you now, thinking it was some big shameful secret that would render his friend flabbergasted.

That was his first mistake.

Jay wasn’t impressed. “Yeah, it’s been pretty obvious, dude,” he’d said through a mouthful of cheeseburger. It was after hockey practice, and they were sitting in the burger joint near the ice rink that had some of the best student deals in town. Jake was going on a Hinge date, and Sunghoon had lured Jay in with the promise of free food (Jay wanted to go home and game, but all Sunghoon needed to do to convince him was to say “I’ll pay for it”).

“Obvious? How obvious? Does everyone know? Does Jake know?” Sunghoon asked, growing more agitated by the second.

“Jake is possibly the worst room-reader that has ever lived, so no, I don’t think he’s caught on. But the rest of us know. I mean, you look at her like a twelve-year-old with a crush on his English teacher,” Jay said, unceremoniously cramming fries into his mouth.

Sunghoon ignored the slightly humiliating remark, still preoccupied by the fact that he hadn’t been as discreet as he thought he had. He leant in towards Jay and dropped his voice to a whisper, even though the restaurant was practically empty, save for them and a group of rowdy middle school boys who were definitely not paying attention to them. “Do you think… does she know?”

Jay dropped his fist on the table in sudden annoyance, causing Sunghoon to jump back in his seat. “Now you’re acting like a twelve-year-old.” Before Sunghoon could defend himself and argue that he’s being completely rational, Jay launches into a surprisingly moving monologue. “It’s fine if you like her, there’s nothing to be embarrassed of. Everybody feels attraction towards other people, everybody gets crushes, it’s no big deal. Just talk to her. Worst case scenario, she doesn’t feel the same way, and you both move on, because you’re adults.”

There’s nothing worse than a friend being right about something you absolutely don’t want to hear. Sunghoon did feel like he had been carrying a horrible secret around, but Jay was spot-on: crushes are a very common, very human experience. And yet Sunghoon managed to feel like he was the only one who had ever had to go through this torture. “You say that like it’s easy,” he said, sulking.

“It is easy. You’re making it hard.”

“So what, your advice is just to confess to her?”

Jay rolled his eyes. “See? You’re saying confess like it’s some sin you have to repent for. Yeah, just tell her.”

“Just tell her,” Sunghoon repeated, looking at his friend like he was crazy. Jay just took another bite of his burger.

“Yeah, dude. It’s not even like you’ve known each other for a long time, so there’s no risk of ruining a friendship, or anything.”

“But do you even know if she feels the same way at all?”

Jay shrugged. “She hasn’t mentioned anything,” he said, and Sunghoon’s heart dropped in disappointment. “But it’s Y/N, she’ll be cool about it. And who knows, she might actually see something in you, for some godforsaken reason.”

Jay laughed at his own joke, and Sunghoon afforded him a chuckle. They moved on to other topics, but later, as they waited for Jay’s bus to come, he couldn’t help himself. “Do you think Jake will mind? If something happens with Y/N and me?”

Jay thought for a second. “I think he’d be more upset with her than with you, what with everything that happened with Heeseung... But knowing him, he probably won’t care as long as you aren’t weird in front of him.” He puts a hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder and shakes it gently. “Don’t let that stop you from making a move, okay? You’ll cross that bridge when you get to it.” His bus came then, so Sunghoon couldn't ask for more details about this Heeseung situation—he knew that there had been something between you and him which hadn’t ended particularly well, but no one ever really talked about it so he didn’t dare bring it up. All he knew was that it had been significant enough for Jay to mention it now, and for Jake to seem bothered every time it was mentioned.

He put all of that out of his head for the time being. In a way, he had just received Jay’s blessing; even if it scared him shitless, he could make a move. Perhaps not something as straightforward as Jay was suggesting, but something, at the very least.

The first major hockey game of the season was that coming Friday. Sunghoon had an idea.

The morning of, he shot you a text. He tried to make it sound as nonchalant as he can, so that you wouldn’t know he spent close to an hour deleting, writing and pouring over a singular sentence. Can you meet me in front of the locker rooms 30 mins before the game?

That was his second mistake.

You replied twenty minutes later, twenty minutes that Sunghoon spent questioning everything that had led up to this moment.

yn.sim i’ll be there!!

You even got there five minutes early. He was waiting for you, all decked out in his hockey uniform, save for the gloves and protective headgear. He was anxiously chewing on gum, heart doing somersaults inside his ribcage—a grin found his lips as soon as you appeared around the corner, the sight of you alleviating his nerves for a second, then doubling them when you came close. “Hey,” he said, voice soft and slightly trembling.

“Hey,” you simply replied, a smile on your face to match his as he took you in his arms. It was a hug that lasted a second longer than it should, but that also ended too early for his liking.

“Um, I only have a second, Coach will be wanting to give one of his pep talks,” he said when you separated. One quick glance back at the locker room doors behind him, then back at you. The tips of his ears burnt, and he couldn’t stop his eyes from furtively darting between your face and the floor. But he’d come this far, so he couldn’t back out now. He just had to get it over with. “Here,” he blurted out, holding out the letterman jacket he had been hiding behind his back. You grabbed it, eyeing him with amused suspicion at first, but surprise spreaded over your features as you unfurled the jacket.

“Your team jacket?”

He couldn’t tell whether you were amazed or horrified. You stared wide-eyed at the jacket, at its dark green sleeves, at the four letters of his last name and the huge number 8 embroidered onto the back. Your surprise faded back into what he thought — what he hoped — was excitement as you looked at him. He scratched the back of his neck, feeling his face flush red. “Yeah, I just, you know… It’s the first big game of the year, and I thought it’d bring me good luck if a pretty girl was wearing my name…” he explained, repeating the words he’d practiced over and over, voice turning into more and more of a mumble as he spoke. He had planned on speaking with more confidence, but now, the fact that he could speak at all felt like a miracle.

A light giggle spilled out of your mouth. Sunghoon immediately took it for mockery and regretted every decision that had led him here. “Sorry, it was a silly idea, you don’t have to wear it if you don’t like it,” he said, reaching for the jacket. But you were quicker than him, hugging the thick bundle of fabric to your chest as you now beamed at him.

“Are you kidding? I love it,” you said, shrugging off your jacket and replacing it with his.

First, relief flooded his body, then pride and excitement — as you spun around and showed the jacket off — at seeing his name on your back, and his attempt at making a move being successful. At least, he thought it was clear what he meant by giving you his jacket to wear at his game—he could only hope you understood. “Well… I’m glad.” Your eyes met, and you both chuckled softly, gazes holding each other’s for a second too long.

Two weeks ago, Sunghoon still would’ve been able to convince himself this was a fluke; that this was just another one of his crushes that a gentle breeze could blow away. Because after all, when Sunghoon fell in love, it usually went as quickly as it came. But at that moment, in front of the locker rooms, his mind solely on you and not the opening game of the season, he realized this was something else entirely. And whatever it was, he hadn’t felt it in a good long while.

He was terrified—but infinitely excited, too.

“Okay, I should probably head back in now,” he forced himself to say, but made no move to go.

“Okay.”

He paused. “Will you be cheering me on?”

Your smile widened. “Of course.”

He nodded slowly, upper body starting to turn away but feet still firmly planted on the ground. “Okay.”

Another second passed, and just as he was about to actually walk away, you grabbed his hand. Before he could compute what was happening, you lifted your head and pressed a small kiss to his cheek. His hand was still in yours when you took a step back, and for once, it was you who looked sheepishly at the floor. “For good luck,” you explained. He had no time to reply—you were already walking away, only looking back once to wave and shoo him in the direction of the locker room. He chuckled and nodded, but waited until you were out of sight to head back into the locker room.

Inside the locker room, everyone was too focused on getting their head in the game to notice his giddy smile. Your lips had been warm and soft against his cheeks, a welcome repeat of that time at the costume party, but the quickness of it all had only made him want more. From that very first night he’d met you, the question of how your lips would feel on his had scarcely left his mind. This brought him a step closer to getting an answer, but also made his curiosity grow tenfold.

Thankfully, by the time his coach gathered them around for a last minute pep talk, he’d managed to put the distracting thoughts of you out of his head, at least temporarily—he’d need to play well, for himself and his team mostly, but impressing you was also a priority.

As the captain, Heeseung said a few words. He reminded the team of how important this match was and went over the main strategy points. For the time being, Sunghoon was able to forget about his arguably unfounded resentment against the older boy and whatever it was he had to do with you. This was not the time for jealousy over someone he had no right to feel jealous over.

A few minutes later, his members and those of the opposing team poured out onto the rink for warm-up. Sunghoon searched the crowd for your face—when he found it, you were already smiling wide and waving at him. His heart did something funny, but Jay punched his shoulder pad and he remembered what he was there for. He could get lost in the eyes of a pretty girl later, specifically when he’d destroyed the other team and shown her how good of a hockey player he was.

Every now and then as he skirted around the rink and did his stretches, he stole glances at you. They didn't last long, because every single time, you’d already be looking, as if your eyes never strayed from him. Knowing you were watching made him nervous at first, but by the end of warm-up, mainly because he didn’t have much of a choice, he’d turned those nerves into an ever stronger will to do well.

The moment the referee blew the whistle, and for the hour that followed, Sunghoon was locked in on one thing and one thing only: winning. He was only competitive when it came to hockey—he didn’t care about dying in an online battle game or losing to Jake at beer pong, but once he was on the rink, he had to win. Pride surged through him and filled every crevice of his aching limbs whenever he or one of his team members scored, and the feeling that came with a victory, with hugging his teammates in celebration or hearing the crowd cheer for them, was like nothing else he’d ever known. The other side of that coin meant that any loss was a tremendous disappointment. Getting beat at an important game could put him in a week-long funk. His sister had once carefully hinted at his self-esteem relying too much on his hockey performance, and although his first reaction had been to dismiss her, he knew she had poked at some truth there. But what could he do—on particularly lonely nights, he truly thought hockey was all he had going for him.

To his overthinking nature, becoming so single-minded the second the whistle blows was a relief, a break from the stress of daily life. He didn’t have to worry about his next deadline or about what the guys on the team thought of him or about the inevitable phone call to his mom asking for more money for groceries. It was respite from the thoughts surrounding you that plagued him: how you felt about him, how you might react knowing what he felt for you, how Jake might react. Why Minjeong hadn’t wanted you to say anything that evening, but why Jay had told him to just go for it. Heeseung, whom he had to respect as the captain and an undeniably talented player, but also as someone who had had something to do with you, whether good or bad. All of it had been wildly bustling around Sunghoon’s mind, but once on the rink, all he had to concern himself with was the puck and getting it in the opposing team’s goal.

And Sunghoon did just that—he scored the first goal of the game, another one in the second period, then a third during the eleventh hour, breaking the tie between the two teams. He smiled right at you after each one, just to make sure you had seen everything. He couldn’t quite describe how it felt to see you clap and cheer for him, jumping up-and-down, forming a megaphone with your hands around your mouth and yelling, “Go Sunghoon!” all while you wore his jacket. It was a separate kind of pride and satisfaction from the sort he’d get seeing anyone else cheer him on, for sure.

The other team put up a good fight, getting in a few goals of their own and protecting their side well, but in the end, thanks to Sunghoon’s goal, it was his team that won. He took his helmet off and got his hair ruffled by half of his team, then shook hands with the other team, trying to contain his boastful smile—some ice hockey players flew off the handle very quickly, and starting a fight was the last thing he wanted.

Kids and local fans huddled by the barriers on each side of the player’s tunnel to get an autograph or a picture. People around here were weirdly attached to their university sport teams, and the athletes on teams that did particularly well — namely football and rugby — were sort of local celebrities. Their ice hockey team wasn’t quite at that stage yet, but they were placing better nationally with every year, and so the local interest had grown. More kids had started signing up for lessons, and their parents often brought them to home games. As Sunghoon chatted with men twice his age and took selfies with ten-year-olds, he tried to find you in the crowd, to no avail. He’d been hoping for a thumbs-up from you for a game well played, or even a hug, but you were nowhere in sight.

It wasn’t until half-an-hour later, after saying bye to all the fans that had waited after the game for them, listening to Heeseung and their coach congratulate them (but also remind them to not take anything for granted), showering and changing, that he got to check his phone.

chaewon we going k-bbq! u guys played well see u later at da party!!!!

Disappointment only had a second to sink to the bottom of his stomach. He’d barely finished reading the text when he was hoisted up by the shoulders. Two of his senior teammates, Soobin and Beomgyu, marched him towards the exit. “We are getting you wasted tonight, Park,” Beomgyu announced, a wide grin on his lips.

“I have a good feeling about this season,” Soobin added. Sunghoon looked back to find Jay and Jake simply shrugging and laughing at him.

Indeed, the second they got to the dorm where tonight’s party would be taking place, a beer was thrusted in his hand. It was only 7 p.m., still light outside, but that didn’t stop the team nor their friends that had come to the game. They sipped beer like it was water, so much so that two hours later, when the party started to grow, Sunghoon was already quite inebriated. It didn’t help that his cup was never empty for too long, and that he had the reassurance of being in his own dorm—it was the closest student building to the ice rink, and so was one of the prime spots for hockey parties. He could get as drunk as he wanted — or as Beomgyu wanted — and still get home in less than a minute.

He somehow ended up in the corridor, part of a nonsensical conversation about candle-making with two guys he had recognized from one of his Phys Ed classes but could not for the life of him remember the names of. One had shared that candle-making was a big hobby of his, and it had made Sunghoon and the other unknown man lose their minds—Sunghoon had never realized how curious about candle-making he was, but he couldn’t stop asking questions. It sounded great. Maybe he’d have to pick up candle-making, too.

Eventually, he headed back to the kitchen for a new drink. For the nth time this evening, he thought of texting you, then immediately thought against it. He wanted to know when you’d get here, but he didn’t want you to know that he wanted to know—although as the night deepened and his intoxication rose, he could remember less and less why that would be such a bad thing. He stepped into the kitchen, and going from the brightly-lit corridor to the dark kitchen with flashing neon lights made him so dizzy that he made a beeline for the couch, needing to sit down for a second.

And that was when he saw you.

Lower back against the counter, talking with a guy he’s never seen in his life. You look like you’re having fun—smiling, laughing, keeping eye contact with that guy. You’re still wearing his jacket. It should probably reassure him—his name is literally on you, what does it matter that you’re speaking to someone else? But instead, all he can think is that wearing his jacket must mean nothing to you. What was basically a confession from him seems to have fallen on deaf ears.

His friends’ words over the past year come back to him—how much you flirt with people, how it wasn’t a rare occurrence for you to go home with a guy after a party and never speak of him ever again. Was this what was happening here?

He knows it’s unreasonable, but in his drunken state, he takes it as a betrayal. Like he can’t believe you haven’t read his mind, figured out how he felt about you, and decided to give special attention to him and him only. He’s only able to take it for so long—two minutes later, he trudges out of the room, walking right past you but not looking your way.

His new mission is to find his friends, but before he’s done much searching, he hears his name being called out. Of course, he recognizes your voice immediately, but he doesn’t quite believe it until he looks over his shoulder, and there you are, face glowing and smiling wide. You’ve clearly had a few drinks, but he likes to think you’d be just as happy to see him if you were sober. He turns around to face you, watching as you narrow the distance between the two of you. He’s not in a much better state—the simple thought that you had come after him makes him forget any sort of resentment he held against you a second ago. When you reach him, he holds on to one of your arms, as much an effort to stabilize his swaying body as an excuse to touch you.

“Hey,” he simply says. He’s always at a loss for words around you, so scared he’ll say the wrong thing that he ends up barely speaking at all. He’s only sober enough to know that with all the cheap beer and vodka running through his blood, his odds of making a fool of himself are even bigger.

“Hey. I was wondering where you were.”

“You’re the one who came late.”

“I know!” you exclaim. “I wanted to come right away, but Chaewon was hell-bent on getting her Korean barbecue.”

“She does get cranky when she hasn’t had pork belly in a while.” Sunghoon feels like he’s just won the Nobel Prize when you let out a laugh. “Was the food good at least?”

“It was amazing. So worth getting here late,” you joke.

He rolls his eyes playfully. “I see how it is.” Then, before he can stop himself, he adds, “Then we should go there together next time.”

Your smile changes, turning from cheerful to surprised, but amused—almost mischievous. You take a step forward. Sunghoon gulps; the gap between the two of you was narrow to begin with. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

Usually, this type of straight-forwardness would have him stuttering, but drunk Sunghoon is a man sober Sunghoon barely recognizes in the morning. “Yeah. I am. Is that okay?”

You nod. “Mh-hm.”

“Nice. Okay.” For a second, you just look at each other. Another thing about drunk Sunghoon: he doesn’t feel like prolonged eye contact will make him spontaneously combust. He actually quite enjoys it. He also stumbles, even when all he’s doing is trying to stand straight. “You’re still wearing my jacket,” he eventually says, reaching out to take the end of your sleeve between his fingers.

You stretch out your arms and appraise the team jacket as if you only remembered you had it on. “Yeah. It’s comfy.”

“It looks good. You look good.”

“You’re not quite sober, are you?” you ask suddenly.

“Is it that obvious?” When you nod, he giggles, lowering his head in defeat. “The guys made me drink so much.”

“You did score three goals after all. And you looked good doing it.”

At the praise, he stands up to his full height and places his palms behind his head in a victorious pose. “I did, didn’t I?” he says, looking off in the distance with a self-assured look that makes you burst into laughter. He drops the confident facade and laughs along with you, until somebody bumps into him and sends him stumbling forwards. If you weren’t standing there to catch him, he’d probably have fallen flat on his face. But even though he doesn’t fall, he feels all the alcohol catching up to him and threatening to come right back out where it came from. You hold him for a second, and just as you ask him if he’s okay, he says, “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

You sigh. “Okay. Where’s your room?”

Arm under his shoulders, you let Sunghoon lean most of his weight on you as you guide him towards the elevator. It’s just one floor, but you said you didn’t want to risk the stairs with him. “Hey, who was that guy with you in the kitchen? That guy in the striped shirt? You guys seemed real chummy back there…” he mumbles as you help him out of the elevator. Even on the verge of sickness, Sunghoon is preoccupied by more important things.

“Oh, that was Jaemin.”

“Jaemin,” he echoes, more venom in his voice than needed.

You look at him, taking in his disgruntled expression, and chuckle. “Yeah, he’s having some problems with his boyfriend. He asked me for advice.”

Sunghoon almost freezes in his tracks, but you’re there to keep him walking towards his room. “Oh. He has a boyfriend.”

“Yeah…” He can tell you want to tease him about it, but thankfully, you say nothing. He’s made it clear he had gotten jealous of your gay friend—no need to spell it out in so many words. Once you reach his studio (which he’d stupidly left unlocked), he heads straight for the bathroom, locking himself in, half out of embarrassment, half because he really doesn’t want you to see him throw up. Talk about a turn-off. He leans over the toilet bowl, waiting for the vomit to rise, but nothing comes. He waits, and waits, mind completely empty, head spinning even though he’s sitting very still, when suddenly a knock on the door pulls him out of his stupor.

“Sunghoon? It’s been ten minutes. Everything okay?”

He doesn’t say anything, just unlocks the door for you. Without realizing, he fell asleep like a bored teenager in math class. “All right,” he hears you say.

He’s surprised you’re able to carry him out of the bathroom—if he was a deadweight before, by now, rigor mortis has practically set in. Despite his small student room, crossing it takes you an entire minute, and when you reach his bed, you all but let him flop on the mattress. He doesn’t mind. As soon as his body hits the bed, he feels quite snug, curling against his blanket. You start to unbutton his shirt, probably just thinking he’s already fallen asleep and wanting to make him more comfortable, but your fingers freeze when he starts giggling. Shoulders shaking with unbridled laughter, he feels as delighted as a five-year-old who just said a naughty word and made all his drunk relatives laugh at the family dinner.

“I know I looked really hot tonight, but can we wait until I’m sober?” he asks, slurring his words slightly and keeping his eyes shut, despite the shit-eating smirk on his lips. You hit him on the chest but it just makes him laugh more.

“Bold of you to assume I’d still hit when I’ve just had to peel you off your toilet seat.” He lets you finish helping him out of his button-down.

“Wouldn’t you?” he asks. He tries to look at you, but his eyes don’t quite open all the way, and they don’t focus properly, due to a strong mix of alcohol and inappropriate thoughts. Of you, specifically. His body feels suddenly very heavy, his want for you weighing him down into the mattress. The room is dark, your face illuminated only by the light in the bathroom and the glow of the street lights outside. You always look pretty, but your beauty is especially breath-taking right now, Sunghoon thinks. He wants to reach out and touch your face, wants to trace your jawline and know what your skin would feel like against his fingers. He doesn’t realize he’s actually doing it until he hears you inhale shakily.

The expression in your eyes is unreadable, and quickly gone, replaced by an annoyed squint. You grab his wrist gently, setting it back down next to him. “I’m gonna make you some ramen. You need to sober up, and you haven’t had dinner, have you?”

Sunghoon shakes his head. He feels rejected, and it makes him inordinately sad.

For five minutes, he watches as you rummage around his cupboards for a pack of ramen, fill a pot with water and bring it to a boil. His thoughts float back to your day at the beach, memories that he’s preciously held onto for the past few weeks. You running around on the sand, opening yourself up to him and letting him open himself up to you, holding his hand on the bus. That day, he’d really thought it would be the beginning of something new; but as time passed, he became less and less sure of himself. He’s scared it might’ve just been a fluke, and that he’d have to destroy the castle he’d built in his head. He’s seen you almost every day since, but it’s never been the same. And even if your eyes met unexpectedly sometimes, or if you went out of your way to sit next to him during movie nights, he can’t let himself go on with so few signs. Jay was right—he had to be clear about his feelings, otherwise this would go on forever. Even if it didn’t feel like it, the Earth would continue spinning on its axis if you didn’t reciprocate.

“I’ve missed you.”

You pause in your movements. “Missed me? But we’ve seen each other every day,” you say after a few seconds, still facing away from him. Your voice is softer than he’s heard it before, almost unsure of itself.

“No,” Sunghoon whines, frowning. He can barely keep his eyes open—he wishes you could read his mind so he wouldn’t have to explain, but alas. “I miss you—the you from the beach. When it was just me and you. It’s not the same with the others around.”

Silence falls over the room again. Sunghoon wonders if you’re just going to ignore what he said, until you take a deep breath, and walk back to his bed. You crouch in front of him and take both of his hands in yours. Electricity flows from where your hands touch to the rest of his body. He suddenly feels a lot more awake.

“It’s just the two of us now,” you whisper.

Sunghoon nods. “I know. It’s nice.”

You smile. It might be the alcohol playing tricks on him, but Sunghoon swears there’s a hint of sadness in your eyes. One of your hands comes up to his hair. You thread your fingers gently through it, pushing it away from his forehead, then bring your hand down to the side of his face, your palm cupping it tenderly. Sunghoon lets himself lean into your warm touch. With his eyes closed, the darkness surrounding him makes this feel like a dream—he basks in the moment so as not to let a second of it go to waste.

“Do you wanna do something just us two this week?” you ask softly. His eyes shoot open—he needs to be sure this is really happening. He nods again, fervently this time, and it makes you chuckle. “Okay.”

“Just us two?”

“Just us two.”

He relaxes once more. He guides your hand towards his mouth and presses his lips against your palm. Something shifts in your eyes—Sunghoon thinks the opportunity to finally kiss you has arisen, but as soon as his gaze drops to your lips, you’re back on your feet. “Let’s eat some ramen, shall we?” you ask as you head back towards the kitchen. Sunghoon tries his best (and probably fails) to not let his disappointment show.

There’s no dining table to speak of, only a low table near Sunghoon’s bed, on which you set down a wooden board and the steaming pot of spicy noodles. You hand him a pair of chopsticks and a spoon, and tell him to eat. Neither of you say much for a while, and Sunghoon grows redder and redder under your watchful gaze. He asks if you want any a few times, but you always turn him down. The silence quickly gets a little too unbearable for him, and he’s got a question burning the tip of his tongue anyway. Now’s as good a time as ever to ask it.

“Something’s been bugging me recently, actually…” You wait for him to go on. “So, at the costume party, right?” You nod. “You said there was only one person you wanted to kiss… Did you mean me?”

You tilt your head, looking at him like you’re trying to figure out whether he’s joking or not. “Yeah, Sunghoon… I meant you. Who else?”

He’s only half-relieved. “So why won’t you kiss me now?”

To his surprise, you smile. “Because you’re drunk.”

Confusion fogs Sunghoon’s brain. Is that all you’re worried about? Is his blood alcohol level the only thing stopping you from kissing him? “But I-I’m fine. I give you consent to kiss me, Y/N.” He’s dead serious, so when you laugh, it only frustrates him further.

“Finish your food, Sunghoon. We’ll see about kissing later.”

He sighs. Later he could deal with. “Fine. But I’ll hold you to it, okay?” he says, pointing a menacing chopstick at you.

“Okay.”

But Sunghoon can’t keep quiet for long—ten seconds later, he’s remembered another question he’s been dying to ask. He continues drinking his soup in an attempt to appear nonchalant. “So what happened between you and Heeseung?”

The question takes you so off-guard, you look like you would’ve done a spit-take had you been drinking water. “That’s-you know about that?”

“Well, not much, that’s why I’m asking.”

You scoff. “Why do you want to know? It’s boring.”

At those words, Sunghoon whips his head up to look at you. “It’s not boring!” he exclaims, perhaps a tad too vigorously. “Anything that has to do with you is interesting to me.”

Finally, the corners of your lips rise. Sunghoon hated the ten seconds in which you weren’t smiling. “Well, there isn’t much to say, anyway. We had a thing when we were in second year, I caught feelings and wanted more, and he didn’t. The end.”

Sunghoon freezes, staring at you with his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth agape. He then sets his cutlery down neatly next to the pot of ramen and clasps his hands together like he’s in a business meeting. “So you’re telling me that he had the opportunity to make you his girlfriend and he just… didn’t?”

You shrug. “Basically, yeah.”

He hits the bedsheets next to him, huffing out in annoyance. “What an idiot.”

“He sure is,” you say. You smile to yourself as you grab Sunghoon’s spoon and try some of the broth. He wonders whether anything lies behind that smile. “But it happened a while ago. Don’t be weird with him on my account. He’s still your captain.”

Sunghoon thinks for a second. “Can I side-eye him once in a while? Or not pass him the puck during practice?”

“Sure,” you reply, laughing. You swiftly move on to other topics as Sunghoon slurps the last of his noodles, asking him about the beginning of the party and just how much his teammates made him drink. He’s recounting the shot contest they held, which Mark won with an impressive seven shots of tequila in a row — Sunghoon hopes the boy is okay now — when your phones buzz at the same time. Minjeong’s name appears on your screen, Jay’s on his, both asking where you are.

“Should we head back now?” you offer, although Sunghoon, wishfully perhaps, detects a trace of reluctance in your voice. “You look like you’ve sobered up a bit, seeing as you’re able to string more than two sentences together.”

“I wasn’t that bad!”

“I should’ve filmed you.”

It’s one a.m. when you head back down, and the party is in full swing. Pop music blasts through someone’s JBL speaker in the shared kitchen, the hallways are more crowded than the subway at rush hour, just as full of hockey fans celebrating their team’s win as students who just wanted an excuse to party, and every window is open to alleviate some of the stuffiness. They probably have another hour left before the dorm residents who decided not to join in the festivities call campus police on them.

Sunghoon is relieved to find that Jake is off with other team members, reaching levels of drunkenness that will most definitely be regretted in the morning. Technically, he hasn’t done anything wrong—he simply let you nurse him back to sobriety after he almost regurgitated his pre-game protein bar and three beers all over your nice shirt. Chaewon and Yunjin are busy making out in a corner, their lack of decorum only increasing when they’ve been drinking, but Jay and Minjeong eye you suspiciously upon seeing the two of you arrive together. You explain what happened so casually that they don’t question it any further.

Chaewon and Yunjin only tear themselves off of each other when a Beyoncé song starts playing, and they drag all four of you to the makeshift dancefloor, which is really just three meters away in the middle of the kitchen. Sunghoon is practically all sobered up by now, but he’s loosened up enough not to feel self-conscious with every step he takes; the fact that you look so happy, dancing with him and laughing at his silly moves, is a considerable bonus. He won’t drink any more, not wanting to risk embarrassing himself further in front of you, and Jay, as the group’s self-proclaimed health guru, probably had his last beer around nine p.m., but the girls, each of them with a cup of suspicious transparent liquid in hand, are getting drunker by the minute—and so is Jake, who has now joined you all on the dancefloor, if his inability to stand straight is anything to go by. Sunghoon assumes you’re also done with alcohol for the night, until you turn to him in the middle of a song no one has heard since 2015 and tell him you’re going to get a drink.

“Okay!” he simply answers, and for a good thirty seconds, basks in the blissful satisfaction of knowing he was the one you informed of your whereabouts. That is, until he realizes a minute later that it was probably a covert invitation for him to come along, which he totally missed. But when he looks over at the counter where all the drinks are, his heart drops—Heeseung is standing in front of you, pouring gin and lemonade into your cup. A flurry of emotions course through Sunghoon, emotions he has no idea what to do with, because he’s not sure they’re entirely warranted. He’s angry that Heeseung is talking to you, after what he did, confused that you’d let him; but mostly, he’s jealous. But he knows it’s only because he has no guarantee that you like him, and that you won’t go off with Heeseung, despite having just talked about how you were over him.

Wait—is that really what you said? You told Sunghoon that what happened with Heeseung didn’t bother you anymore, which doesn’t necessarily mean you wouldn’t go back to him, given the chance.

Before he can think it over a second time, Sunghoon heads over to where you and Heeseung stand. He places himself right behind you, reaching for a bottle of Coke on your side and pouring himself a drink.

“Oh, hey, Hoon,” his team captain says, clearly surprised to see him there and looking so discontented. Sunghoon can’t remember whether they’ve ever been close enough for Heeseung to call him by his nickname. “Having fun?”

“Yep,” he curtly replies, avoiding eye contact with either of you and looking out at the crowd of party-goers instead. He can feel your gaze, heavy on his face, can see the knowing smirk slowly rising on your lips. How was it that you could see right through him so easily?

“Too much dancing made you thirsty?” you ask, taking a drink from your cup and hiding your smile behind it.

He glares at you, more annoyed that his attempt at subtly sussing out what you and Heeseung were doing together was shut down so quickly than anything else. “Yep,” he repeats.

“You guys know each other?” the older boy asks, eyes darting between the two of you.

“Jake introduced us,” Sunghoon quickly answers. To his surprise, this makes Heeseung chuckle.

“Jay, Sunghoon, me… Wow, do you meet all your friends through your brother, Y/N?” he asks jokingly. Immediately, so many alarm bells ring in Sunghoon’s head—the implication that you and Heeseung are friends, the fact that he put himself and Sunghoon in the same bag, and above all, that teasing, almost flirtatious tone of his.

He’s horrified to find you rolling your eyes playfully and saying, “I have other friends, thanks,” in a tone far too similar. At that moment, Minjeong starts yelling about how much she loves everyone in this room but particularly “you guys,” pointing to Jake, Jay, Minjeong and Chaewon, and “you guys, too!” screaming over the music as she points to you and Sunghoon.

“There’s one of them,” you say, half-amused, half-exasperated. “We should probably go check on her. See you around, Heeseung.”

“Right. See you, Y/N. Sunghoon.”

Back to no-nickname basis, apparently.

Your group’s indicator of when it’s time to go home is when Minjeong starts one of her “I-love-my-friends-so-much” rants—if she’s that drunk, everyone else must be wasted. Indeed, Chaewon and Yunjin are holding onto each other to keep themselves from falling down, and Jake is unable to keep his head up. You, Sunghoon and Jay herd your friends outside and wait for Jake’s Uber, making sure to get him safely inside and to tip the driver generously for his pains. Jay lives nearby yours and the girls’ flat, and Sunghoon, ever the gentleman, walks you all home.

“Just ‘cause you and Jay might need a hand getting these three home,” he tells you. Yunjin, Chaewon and Minjeong are currently running around on the road, pointing and laughing at random shop names, and Jay is yelling at them to get back on the sidewalk.

“Mh-hm.”

“And it’ll be good to completely sober up before going to bed.”

“Right.”

There’s no use putting up a front with you—he’s an open book and you’re an avid reader. You don’t need to say anything to make it clear that you know it’s just an excuse to spend more time with you.

“You know, I told you not to be weird with Heeseung,” you say, gently punching him in the arm.

“Was I weird?” he asks, knowing fully well he hadn’t acted at all like he usually did around his captain.

“You basically only spoke to let Heeseung know we’re friends. You were making yourself all tall and looking mysteriously out into the distance instead of at us.”

“But I am tall and mysterious,” he says, pride coursing through him as it always does when you laugh at one of his jokes.

“You’re probably the least mysterious person I know, Hoon.”

Hoon. How much sweeter that name sounds coming from you over anyone else.

“So you agree that I’m tall?”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a grin on your face. A win is a win. “That’s just a fact.”

Sunghoon smiles victoriously. “I’ll take a fact. But I’m sorry if I was acting weird… I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t bothering you.”

“Heeseung is always bothering me,” you say with a sigh. “He comes up to me like this at every party. He’s just asking how I’ve been, but it’s like he’s sussing out whether or not he’s still got a chance.”

“Do you need me to beat him up? Threaten him? Dox him?”

Even though Sunghoon was only half-joking, you burst out laughing, hard enough for Minjeong to whip around and shout, “What are you laughing about?” as if you had offended her personally. At least Jay is there to make her turn around and focus on walking straight.

“I appreciate the offer, but that won’t be needed. I just don’t like talking about it, ‘cause it’s really not that big a deal anymore. It feels like digging up old bones, you know?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “I’d commit grave robbery with you.”

“You-what?”

“Nevermind. We obviously don’t have to talk about it, but I’m curious.”

You sigh. “I guess it’d make sense for you to know about this.” Sunghoon thinks he sees something like panic flash across your features, but it’s so quick and such a rare expression on you that he’s not sure whether he just imagined it. “You know-just ‘cause everyone else is aware of it, and everything,” you quickly explain.

“Sure.”

“I just… I’m sure Heeseung is a nice guy when it comes to other things, but what the girls and I have concluded is that he’s a bit of an attention whore, you know. When it comes to girls. We fooled around for a while, and he never made it official, even when I made it pretty clear that that was what I wanted. But every time we saw each other after that, he’d flirt with me like nothing had happened. I fell for it at first and flirted back, thinking he had changed his mind… but he really just wanted to make sure I was still into him.”

“Looking for validation,” Sunghoon says.

“Exactly. And when I realized that, I stopped giving it to him. I was getting tired of him anyway, saying the same thing every time. But now, I entertain him for a couple of minutes before I walk away. I shut him down before he gets a chance to do it to me.”

“That’s smart.”

“I know,” you say, smiling. “I understand the need for validation, but he won’t be getting any from me.”

Jay bravely handles the three drunkards the whole way home, letting you and Sunghoon hang behind and carry on talking. You reach the boy’s apartment first, and yours five minutes later. But when you reach your front door, Minjeong announces she needs to talk to Sunghoon. “Privately,” she emphasizes.

You give Sunghoon an amused look and shrug as if to say “She’s your problem now.” He doesn’t have time to protest before you’ve bid him goodnight and disappeared behind the door, Yunjin and Chaewon in tow, yelling good night at Sunghoon like they’re not going to see him for months.

Minjeong places her palms flat onto Sunghoon’s torso and looks right at him—to the best of her ability, at least, considering she’s having a hard time focusing her eyes. “Sunghoon,” she says gravely.

“Minjeong?”

“Listen, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you,” she says, slurring her words. “You know I love Y/N, she’s amazing…”

“Yeah, she is,” Sunghoon says firmly—already, he can tell where this is going, and he doesn’t like it.

“But she’s not the best with relationships.”

“What do you mean?”

Minjeong’s hands drop by her sides and she exhales deeply. “I’ve just never seen her in a committed relationship in the-in the almost four years I’ve known her. She never lets things get serious. She’s just so afraid of being hurt, Hoon, and I-”

A hiccup escapes Minjeong’s lips as tears start pooling in her eyes. Sunghoon has only ever seen Minjeong cry when drunk—even movies that had him sobbing barely made her eyes water. Even if she isn’t in her right state of mind, he knows it means this must be important to her. He holds her arms and tries to put on the most reassuring tone he can. “But I wouldn’t hurt her.”

“No, I know that. I’m scared you’d get hurt. I don’t want things to become weird between all of us.”

Sunghoon shakes his head. “Minjeong, what-that wouldn’t happen.”

“But it will!” she exclaimed. “If something happens with you and her, and it doesn’t work out the way you want it to, it’ll make things awkward-”

“If that happens,” he interrupts, “I’ll deal with it. I won’t make it your guys’ problem. Y/N and I are adults, okay?”

“You’re like, nineteen…”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t worry about it, okay? It’ll be fine.” He takes a step back and opens the door for her to get in.

She’s only on the first stair when she turns back around. “But, Hoon-” she tries, though he cuts her off.

“Minjeong, I promise-”

“Just don’t rush into anything, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Go inside.”

She complies, giving him one last look before climbing the stairs to her apartment. Sunghoon closes the door behind her, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.

Sunghoon is on his way home from hockey practice when his phone buzzes with a text from you.

yn are you still up for doing something this week?

He almost throws his phone in the air in celebration, as if it was a graduation cap. His Sunday was spent going back-and-forth between lapidating himself for his drunken stupidity, memories, rough as stones, hitting him in the face every time he thought of what he said and how he acted, and congratulating himself for having finally made his feelings for you somewhat clearer. Hopefully, you now know he isn’t just awkward and silent around new people—well, he is, but it’s worse with you.

She never lets things get serious.

Minjeong’s warnings echo in his head as he types a positive — although not over-enthusiastic, ‘cause that’d be uncool — answer, but he dismisses them easily. Perhaps he shouldn’t; Sunghoon is, after all, incredibly serious about any and all romantic encounters. The girl at the grocery store who reached for the same red bell pepper as him was the most serious thing to him in the world for a good ten minutes; all of his school crushes were of utmost importance to him, however long they had lasted.

So this? This is capital-s Serious. But therein lies the problem; he’s so serious about you that he’d let you not make it serious. If Minjeong is right, and you’re not planning on taking this nearly as far as he wishes for it to go, he can already tell he’ll just let you. He’ll probably be happy you wanted anything to do with him at all.

He has ways of reassuring himself, of convincing himself he isn’t a totally lost cause. Because when Sunghoon falls in love — and he had an inkling this was what this was — it usually goes as quickly as it came. Who’s to say this time next week he won’t have completely moved on? Maybe this date that he’s agreed to will go horribly wrong, you’ll be rude to the waiter, you’ll spill tomato sauce all over your shirt, and the flame in his heart will be put out. Easy as that.

You decide to meet on Wednesday evening, two days from now. Sunghoon suggests a Japanese restaurant he likes, a place he had gone to with his mom and sister when they had dropped him off at university before his first year, and that he knows is nice enough for a date but won’t burn a hole through his wallet.

Seeing you at the library the day before is a real thrill. Nobody but you knows of your plans—at least not until he caves in and tells Jay about it, who congratulates him with a roll of his eyes and a pat on the head. All of your eye contact feels loaded with the kind of complicity that comes with sharing a secret. As much as he would love boasting about it to every soul who’d listen, this secrecy electrifies him—it binds the two of you with something much more real than before. At least, more real than Sunghoon’s imagination and one-sided feelings. He knows that your text wasn’t in any way a confession of your own feelings for him, but it’s a step in the right direction.

In the few hours before your reservation at seven p.m., Sunghoon spends so much time thinking about the date that he’s almost late for it. He thinks about his expectations, then tries to get rid of them; he comes up with ideas of what your expectations might be, remembers Minjeong’s words, dismisses them, remembers them again; he goes through scenarios upon scenarios of everything that might go wrong and everything that might go spectacularly well. He ends up with less than twenty minutes to get ready, but manages to arrive at the restaurant a minute before you.

When he sees you approaching, Sunghoon feels like one of those boys in Disney movies as they watch their girlfriend coming down the stairs in her prom dress. You’re not wearing an over-the-top poofy purple dress, but the effect is the same—his eyes are glued on you with every step you take towards him.

You grab him by the arm and lead him into the restaurant as soon as you reach him. He’s too busy taking in your appearance to be bothered by it. “Don’t look at me like that,” you chide as you wait for waiting staff to seat you. He’d actually think you were mad at him if it wasn’t for the small smile playing on your lips.

“Like what?”

“Like what you’re doing right now! You’re staring.”

Realization slowly dawns on him; your gazes have made him lose his composure too many times for him not to know what being flustered looks like. He’d be lying if the fact that it was you in this tight spot and not him didn’t heavily stroke his ego.

“Why wouldn’t I? You look beautiful,” he says, dropping his voice to a whisper so that the approaching waitress can’t hear. Her presence saves you from responding verbally, but as she brings you to your table, you pinch his arm lightly as if to say Be on your best behavior—although Sunghoon would argue this was his best behavior.

You have trouble making up your mind about the food—you want to try everything on the menu. Sunghoon tentatively offers to order a bunch of dishes and share them. “It’s what my family always does at the restaurant, just try as much as you want and take the leftovers to go. We never ate out very often because my mom would spend so much money every time,” he recollects, smiling fondly.

“That actually sounds like a dream. My parents would never do that. It was always just eat what you got, but I’m unable to look at someone else’s food and not want to try it. It honestly should just be common practice to share dishes at the restaurant.”

Sunghoon thinks he could get down on one knee right then and there. Whenever they went out to eat, the boys would roll his eyes at him when he stole bites of their food. But you—you’re like him. He knows he’s prone to over-exaggeration, but he can’t help but feel like if you understand each other on this, you must understand each other at a molecular level.

He had expected a level of awkwardness to your date, at least at the beginning — God knows the moments in which he doesn’t feel like a mumbling fool in front of you are few and far between — but to his surprise, everything goes smoothly. There is no uncomfortable silence, all his jokes miraculously land, even the lousy ones, and you both laugh and talk and share sushi and pork cutlets like it’s the most natural thing in the world, which perhaps it is. His attempts at flirting are well-received and he only turns violently red twice when you compliment him and smile at him in a particularly pretty way.

It’s that day at the beach all over again. Always on the same page, you dip in and out of topics with a synergy he has rarely felt before. Sunghoon realizes it must be the presence of others, rather than you yourself, that makes him feel like he can’t act the way he wants to around you, makes him so nervous. Save for the moments where you make his heart flutter like a thousand butterflies’ wings, he actually feels quite at ease with you, all things considered. Of course, he still tries — and fails — to look cool for you, but he knows it comes from a place within himself rather than because you make him feel as though he has to meet a certain standard. Surprisingly, he can be totally himself, and it seems to be enough for you.

He loves his friends. He wouldn’t trade them for the world. But he’s not sure he won’t have moments where he’ll wish nothing more than for them all to go away and leave the two of you be.

You eat until you can’t anymore and are still left with enough food for another full meal. You only let him get the bill once he’s promised that next time will be on you. If it means there’ll be a next time, he’s more than happy with making that promise. The sun has set when you exit the restaurant. Sunghoon shivers as he steps outside, the temperature having gone down by at least four degrees in the last two hours.

You grab his hand; it warms him right up.

Your apartment is a thirty-minute bus ride away, but Sunghoon offers to walk you home. Anything to spend more time with you.

He spends the first few minutes of the walk worrying about his hand, whether it’s too clammy, whether it’s holding yours right, but he eventually relaxes into the touch. When a particularly chilly gust of wind blows, you drop his hand and hold onto his arm instead, inching closer to him for more warmth. He only drank lemonade with his meal, but he feels blissfully light-headed.

Silence only arrives when you reach your doorstep. You stand in front of each other, Sunghoon looking down at his feet, you gazing out at the empty street. He knows this is the moment where he is supposed to kiss you. If there was a step-by-step guide on how to date — there probably is, but Sunghoon hasn’t resorted to such loser-like measures yet — this would probably be the moment where it would be written to just kiss her, you idiot. But nerves get the best of him.

At least, you’re there to save the day. You direct your gaze towards him, a bashful smile playing on your lips. “So… are you gonna kiss me now?” you ask, essentially reading his mind.

He reacts immediately. “Y-yep. Yes. I am.” Heart racing, he takes a step towards you as he rests his hands on your waist. Then he changes his mind, and brings one hand up to your cheek. There’s an eyelash that has fallen below your eye; he brushes it out of the way with his thumb before leaning in and pressing his lips against yours.

In all of his late-night scenarios and daydreams of kissing you, he had never imagined something as good as this. You find your rhythm within seconds. It’s slow, almost hesitant, yet so tender, it makes Sunghoon’s heart ache. As your lips move against each other in perfect sync, as your hands find their way around Sunghoon’s neck, he realizes he should have known — this will not go away as quickly as it came.

Only when you grab a fistful of his hair, making him react viscerally and wrap his arm around your waist to bring you closer to him, does he remember where the two of you are. He leans back, then almost passes out when you chase his lips and press a shorter but just as sweet kiss there. He commits this view to memory—the smile on your lips, the glow on your face, the haziness in your eyes.

“Do you wanna come up?”

“Yes,” he replies immediately, and it makes you laugh. You grab his hand and lead him up the stairs and into your apartment.

“Are the girls in?” he asks as you lock the front door.

“Minjeong is at karaoke with her school friends, and Yunjin and Chaewon are at a dinner party somewhere.”

“Minjeong karaokes?”

��Get enough G&Ts in her and she’ll do anything.”

You turn on a small lamp in your room and take off your jacket. Sunghoon has been in your apartment before, but never in your room—at some point, he’ll spend an hour observing every photograph and trinket in detail, asking you about every backstory, but right now, he’s got more important things to tend to. His heart beats uncontrollably as you shut the door to your room and walk towards him, eyes gazing deeply into his. The corners of your lips rise when you tug at the bottom of his sweatshirt, a clear indicator that you want it off. He wastes no time in obliging.

The air is buzzing with electricity when your lips find each other again. You’re both more confident this time around, and so the kiss is deeper, your touches bolder. Everything happens quickly—one second, you’re standing in the middle of your room; the next, you’re laying on your bed, Sunghoon underneath you.

“You know,” he says between kisses, “I’d really planned on being a gentleman and not going up to your room after the first date…”

Your lips move from his lips to his jawline, warm and soft against his skin. Sunghoon closes his eyes and lets out a low hum of approval. “I’m glad you changed your mind,” you whisper, lips brushing against his neck as you speak. “And since we’re onto confessions, I can finally say I’ve been wanting to do this since we met.”

This information sends his mind reeling. Not once had he been sure of how you felt about him — he even remembers you saying no to a kiss — and here you are, saying you’ve been wanting to kiss him since the beginning, just like he had.

“You’re me,” he replies breathlessly.

“Hm?”

“I mean, me too.”

You pause your kisses to giggle, a sound so soft and intimate it has Sunghoon melting impossibly more. “You’re me?”

Unfortunately, he is too preoccupied by you to put a filter between the weird, half-formed thoughts in his brain and the words that leave his mouth. “Don’t question it,” he says, a smile audible in his voice, before moving his head and catching your lips. If he couldn’t stop himself from saying odd things, he could at least distract you from them.

Sunghoon thinks he’s doing a good job keeping himself together, until you roll your hips against his. It’s barely anything, but it sends waves of pleasure and anticipation through his body. His grip on your waist tightens, and when you repeat the motion, his hands sneakily find their way down your back and under your dress. Palms splayed against your ass, he brings you down closer to him. The second you moan into the kiss, he’s a goner.

After that, it doesn’t take long for clothes to be discarded or for curious fingers to find the other’s waistbands. Your movements are hasty, messy—the tension that had built up over weeks of pining for you, after getting close to kissing you twice and thinking about it a hundred times more, it all comes crashing down in this moment, as his teeth sink into the flesh of your neck, as your hands pull at strands of his hair, as your bodies gently bump into each other. If someone asked Sunghoon right now how long he’d known you, he’d say years, not mere weeks. It couldn’t possibly be real that this much desire had accumulated inside of him — and inside of you, if your broken moans and rapid breathing are anything to go by — in just over a month.

He only slows down when he has you naked and heaving underneath him, reminding himself to savor the moment instead of rushing it. His fingertips graze down your sides until they reach between your thighs, and he marvels at the way his touch makes you shiver. His eyes are so wide with amazement at the sight of you that he probably looks like he’s never seen a woman before, but he can’t help himself—he always thought you were beautiful, but this is something else entirely.

His first touch is hesitant, a slow upward motion of his thumb between your folds as if quite literally testing the waters. But it has you arching your back and gripping his bicep, meeting his eyes to silently plead for more. Sunghoon takes that as his green light, thumb circling your clit as his lips continue their work on your neck, on your face, everywhere they can reach. He slips a finger inside of you, then a second one, and when he is satisfied with the state he’s gotten you in, all disheveled and gasping for air, he replaces his fingers with his dick, rock-hard just from seeing and hearing you.

He slowly inches forward until he’s bottomed out, letting you adjust around him. “All good?” he whispers, lips moving against the shell of your ear.

“Never better,” you whisper back, smiling. You kiss him, and the tenderness of your lips on his, mixed with the feeling of being inside you, has Sunghoon’s heart constricting inside his chest. He starts rocking his hips back-and-forth into you, the side of his face is pressed up against yours, head light from the little oxygen the two of you share. It all feels oddly intimate for a first time, feels more like the kind of sex two people would have after years of knowing each other’s bodies. He moves like it’s second nature, thrusts deep and slow, trying to reach those spots that have your hands clawing at his back. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, using his free hand to push the hair that sticks to your face with sweat.

You wrap your legs higher around his hips, the shift in angle letting him go deeper. “Fuck, right there,” you say, voice strangled. Sunghoon doesn’t need to be told twice—he picks up his pace, and already within a minute, starts to feel himself reaching his limit. He tries to muffle his groans against your skin, but with the way your hold on him tightens and your moans go higher in pitch, you seem to be just as close as he is. When you do come undone around him, breath hitching in your throat before you release a heavy sigh, he has mere seconds left in him. A few thrusts later, his orgasm finally releases him from the tension that had been twisting his stomach into a knot for the past half-hour. You’re both spent, but he continues lazily rocking his hips against yours chasing the last remnants of pleasure, wanting to bask in it just a bit longer. He rolls onto his back after sliding out, wrapping his arms around you. You bury your face in the crook of his neck.

His chest rises and falls as his breathing takes its time returning to normal. In a way, he’s almost relieved it’s over, like any longer would’ve actually taken too much of a toll on him. He likes the comfort he gets from having you in his arms as much as the sex itself. “I didn’t know it could feel this good,” he says, the words spilling out of his mouth before he can stop them. He needs more than a few minutes to get his head back on straight and start thinking before he speaks again. You chuckle airily, he chuckles too, and within seconds, you’re both laughing for seemingly no reason. The bliss of such an intense orgasm and the lack of oxygen must have gone to your brain, too.

“Me either,” you say once the laughter dies down. When your lips find his once more, Sunghoon forgets entirely about his exhaustion and feels like he could go for a second round. “Shower?” you ask right when he realizes how sticky and smelly he is.

“Yes, please.”

He can’t keep his hands off of you in the shower, rubbing soap on every square inch of your skin when you could do it perfectly fine yourself, kissing you even when you’ve both got foaming cleanser on your faces. The taste of soap in his mouth is worth the giggles he gets out of you.

Sunghoon reaches heaven when you drop to your knees in front of him, water rushing down his back as you take him in your mouth. He’s eager to return the favor, of course, thumb flicking your clit with a speed and dexterity even he didn’t know he was capable of. If you weren’t already in the shower, you’d have needed another one.

As soon as your bodies hit the mattress, you both drift off to sleep, limbs wrapping around each other as though they had been separated for too long and finally found each other again—not to let go again.

When Sunghoon wakes up, it takes him a few seconds to realize that he hadn’t dreamt up last night’s events. He reaches a hand out hesitantly, still half-asleep and scared that you’ll disappear into thin air at the touch of his fingertips. But no—he feels your skin, warm and soft, and he knows this is real.

You’re laying on your side, facing away from him, so he has to strain his neck to peek at your face. You look so peaceful as you sleep—he doesn’t want to wake you up, but he can’t stop himself from wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing his torso against your back, humming contentedly to himself. He presses a soft, quiet kiss to the top of your head, just because he can.

Outside, clouds part, and a bright ray of sun shines through the window, landing right on your face. Sunghoon watches as you grumble and turn around, burying your face in his chest to avoid the blinding light, but the damage is done—you’re awake. He can tell from the drawled-out whine you let out and the way you grab tightly onto his waist, as if it was his fault the sun had decided to shine right on you.

He lets you settle in a comfortable position. Stays still as you hike your leg over his legs, then slip it between them instead; as you press your cheek against his chest, then bury your nose in his neck; as you wrap your arm around his waist, then move it to thread your fingers through his hair, until you give up on falling back asleep altogether. “It’s so bright in here,” you mumble in lieu of a good-morning greeting.

You can’t see him, so Sunghoon smiles and tightens his grip around you—one arm circling your shoulders, the other, your waist. Skin to skin. “We forgot to close the blinds yesterday.”

“It’s okay,” you say, sighing. You press a kiss to the base of his neck, right between his collarbones, then lift your face to look at him. “How are you feeling?”

This is what it feels like to wake up next to her, Sunghoon thinks. He’d thought about it so many times: what you would look like first thing in the morning, what you’d say to him, what it’d feel like when your eyes met. If you’d be a slow sort of morning person, cuddling in bed with him until the very last possible second, or if you’d be up and about as soon as you woke up. If you’d be grumpy. If you’d want coffee. If you liked morning sex.

It seems to be a recurring theme that Sunghoon’s imagination never quite lives up to reality. Your sleepy eyes boring into his, struggling to stay open, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck; your skin, so warm and so soft, your scent, so intoxicating he can barely think straight.

You’re better than a dream.

“I feel great. Do you feel great?”

“I feel amazing, thank you so much for asking,” you say, burrowing yourself impossibly closer to him.

The two of you stay like this for a while, talking about your plans for the day and begrudging how little you want to go about them. Sunghoon wishes this could go on forever, but then his stomach growls so loudly, his face turns red from embarrassment. He hadn’t even noticed how hungry he was.

“You’re me,” you say, laughing, and Sunghoon can’t help but join in. “Is it crazy to have last night’s leftovers for breakfast?”

What Sunghoon hears is that you want him to stay; that you don’t want to part ways just yet.

“If by crazy you mean the best idea ever, then yes.”

“Amazing, because I’ve been thinking about that curry all night.”

“Really? I was thinking about something else,” he says, burrowing his face in your neck and leaving warm kisses there.

You hum and lean into his touches, leaning into his touches. Chills run down his spine as your nails graze his sides. “There might’ve been other things occupying my mind, too.”

And just like that, breakfast is postponed to thirty minutes later.

After that night, Sunghoon forgets how to act right.

His mind has never been so singularly taken up by sex in all of his life. It was already preoccupied with you most of the time, but now that it has more material to gnaw on, it’s practically started to eat away at him. It doesn’t help that you’ve seen each other every day since, or that at every chance you get, you smile knowingly at him or try to get him to play footsies with you. Of course, he loves every bit of attention that he gets from you, but whenever he feels his heart get carried away, Minjeong’s words come back to him in a panic, and he remembers that he has no idea what it is that’s happening between you and him. You could be stringing him along, for all he knows, or you could be as into him as he is into you and just letting things happen. Unfortunately, just letting things happen was not something Sunghoon was good at—if things weren’t written black and white, he’d find a way to overthink even the littlest of details. Like how you’d kissed him for a good five minutes before letting him leave your apartment, otherwise known as the least platonic parting to exist, or conversely, like how you’d sometimes take hours to reply to texts.

If he was already a mumbling fool in front of you before, his condition has only worsened now. He tries his best to be normal and not make you or anyone in the group feel weird, but the fact is that you rocked his world and now he can’t look you in the eyes and not remember how it felt when you touched him or the sounds you made or the way you looked. It’s all playing in a loop in his mind and the only way he knows how to control it is by limiting his interactions with you, which doesn’t even work that well.

The first couple days, you seem amused by his shyer-than-usual demeanor, but you quickly grow confused more than anything. Sunghoon won’t sit next to you, only speaks to you when necessary, doesn’t seek you out outside of a group setting. He tells himself he just needs some more time to be able to be around you casually again, but before that happens, one day at the library, you make a point to ask him if he’ll come help you get drinks for everyone from the dispenser machine. He knows it’d be too odd to say no, so he follows you.

He presses the buttons for everyone’s order (a Sprite for him, Diet Cokes for the girls, a Red Bull for Jake who has a midterm tomorrow and nothing for Jay who only swears by his disgusting herbal infusion) as you lean against the machine, arms crossed over your chest as you stare at him.

He has never felt so awkward in his life.

“So…” he starts although he has no idea what to say—he hopes something will just appear in his mind and that it’ll alleviate the tension. However, you seem to have other plans.

“What the hell, Sunghoon?” you say, taking him aback. When he glances at you, you don’t seem angry—just genuinely confused. “You’ve been avoiding me like the plague.”

“I haven’t!”

“Sunghoon,” you say sternly. He gives in right away.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I just-I didn’t know what to do. After we, you know…”

“After we had sex?” you say, then burst into laughter when he looks around the room to make sure no one’s heard. His cheeks heat up.

“Yes, after we had sex,” he whispers.

He pays for the drinks and picks them up. When he looks at you again, your smile has completely died down, and worry has settled into your features. “Do you regret it?” you ask, voice now as low as his. As if it hurts to say the words too loud.

Panic overcomes him, and he almost drops half of the drinks as he shakes his head. “No, of course not! I’m really sorry, Y/N, I never meant to be weird about it, I was just trying to wrap my head around everything, and I just… Well, I just didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry.”

You nod, taking his words in. “That’s fine. I get it. I just wanted to say, you know, it doesn’t have to change anything. We can still be friends and all. Like you said, it shouldn’t make things weird.”

Sunghoon’s stomach drops. He knows you’re trying to make him feel better, but you’ve inadvertently said the exact opposite of what he wanted to hear. He doesn’t want things to stay the same, or for you to stay friends. For him, things can’t go back to normal after that night — whatever normal means for the two of you — and he was foolishly hoping that you felt the same.

But clearly, you want to let the whole thing die and pretend like it never happened. And whether it’s a good thing or not, his feelings for you have grown so much, he’ll just let you lead him anywhere. Even if that turns out to be nowhere.

So he conjures up the most convincing smile he can, hands you half of the drinks to carry, and says, “Yeah, sounds good.”

After that conversation, Sunghoon doesn’t think anything else will happen between the two of you. You had sex, you talked it out, and that’s the end of it. But then, it turns out that both of your last midterms are at the same time, in the same building, so you invite him to celebrate with pork belly and some drinks. Sunghoon is finishing his second beer when he starts to feel like he’s on that date again, laughing for no reason, butterflies in his stomach every time his gaze catches yours. You lean on your hand as you listen to him talk about a stupid memory from his childhood and he thinks he’s never seen anyone as pretty as you.

The sun has long set when you say, “You know, it’s Wednesday today.”

He’s not sure what you’re trying to get at. “Yeah?”

“Minjeong’s out at karaoke tonight.”

With these simple words, all the images of you that Sunghoon had finally managed to banish from his mind come flooding back, and he is not even surprised to find himself half-naked in your bed thirty minutes later. So much for staying friends—one time is one thing, but Sunghoon knows he’ll never be normal again after a second time with you.

It’s not a long time before he finds himself in your room again. Every item of clothing between the two of you is gradually discarded while you kiss, lips growing more impatient with every inch of bare skin uncovered. He reluctantly lets you go when you suddenly giggle and say that you really need to pee, watching as you grab his t-shirt off the floor and put it on, just in case Minjeong comes home. You wear it like it’s yours, like it’s the most natural thing in the world that you’d be wearing his clothes. An indescribable feeling washes over Sunghoon at the sight, so intense he feels tears welling behind his eyes. Like something he’s been yearning for is finally at the grasp of his fingers; like it might slip away at any moment.

His feelings must’ve transpired in the way he was looking at you—when you meet his eyes, your expression shifts slightly, and you quickly slip out of your room. He tells himself to reel it in. Get it together, he thinks. Or you’ll drive her away.

A wave of tiredness hits him in the minute that you’re gone, probably due to all that soju and beer. “I’m back,” you whisper, but he doesn’t move, only opens his arms wide for you to get back into bed with him. It’s like a weight is lifted off his heart when he feels you against him again. You’re back. Your face is fresh, as if you’d splashed it with cold water, but when he slips one of his hands underneath your (his) t-shirt, your skin is still just as warm as before. Far from the fuzzy, tingly feeling he had gotten when you’d woken up together the other morning, now, he feels his desire for you deep in the pit of his stomach. The kind of hunger food couldn’t satisfy. “I missed you,” he whispers, voice low and gravelly. He reacts immediately when you squirm against him, tightening his grip around your waist and pulling you to him.

“I was gone two minutes.”

“I mean these past few days. I was starting to think I’d dreamt you up.” His hand on your lower back sneaks its way up between your bodies until it finds your breasts, cupping one of them with his palm before taking your nipple between his thumb and index, gently twisting. It pulls a half-gasp, half-moan from your throat, and the sound goes straight to his dick. “But you’re real, aren’t you?”

“Very real,” you reply, a tremor in your voice. He’s barely touching you, and you’re already having trouble breathing. Sunghoon smiles at the idea of him having as much of a hold on you as you do on him.

“Good,” he says, voice so low it’s almost a growl. In one quick sweep, he pushes you down so your back is against the mattress, resting his palms on each side of your head.

He’s inside you within mere minutes. He’d wanted to hold back a bit, but you whispering Just put it in after thirty seconds of his fingers loosening you up was enough to convince him. His mind is already fuzzy with remnants of alcohol, and his overwhelming desire for you only makes matters worse. He barely has any control over his movements, rushed and sloppy, but as he drives himself deeper into you, your moans increase in volume. He only later realizes how tight his grip on your hips is when he sees two small bruises forming on the skin there.

He comes quickly, probably embarrassingly so, but he can’t bring himself to care—he’s got other things on his mind. He’s not even bothered to discard the condom as he makes his way down your body, lips around your clit before you’ve even had the time to register what was happening. You cry out, a sound that Sunghoon works to pry out of you over and over again. Even when your thighs start shaking and you squirm away from him, he doesn’t relent. He’s just as desperate to make you feel good as he was desperate chasing his own pleasure earlier. He hooks his arms around your thighs, bringing you down to him and ensuring that you can’t get away. One hand still in his hair, the other clutching the bed sheets, you’ve turned your face sideways into the pillow so that your moans come out muffled. He is only satisfied when you’ve reached your second orgasm.

As your breath slowly returns to normal, Sunghoon makes his way back up your body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. You clear your throat of its dryness and burst into soft, quiet laughter. “What’s funny?” Sunghoon murmurs, lips against your neck.

“Nothing,” you say, still laughing. “That was just really, really nice.”

Sunghoon smiles. “I’m glad,” he says before kissing you, lips moving slowly against yours.

As he lays against you, the top of his head under your chin and your fingernails grazing along his back, a weird feeling overcomes him. Sunghoon is usually a pine-from-afar sort of guy, with at least five instances of hanging out that could or could not be a date before making things any sort of official. The pining has been a constant with all of his crushes. He’s gotten to the hanging out stage a couple of times, but the officialising has only happened once. Despite its low success rate, it’s a cycle Sunghoon feels comfortable with, and he’d imagined the rest of his romantic encounters would follow that pattern.

But this is completely different. Of the three times you guys have met separately from your friend group, already two times have included sex. This isn’t a stage Sunghoon usually reaches before at least a few months and it disorientates him. What does it mean? That you like him so much, you decided to skip all of the steps and jump straight into the thick of it? He is reasonable enough not to delude himself into such a thought. He likes you a lot—that much he can be sure of. He’s liked you since the moment he laid eyes on you, even if the reason eludes him. Something in the way you smiled at him, the way you took him in stride as if you’d known him forever. When he thinks back to that party, he can’t believe it started out as the two of you being strangers. Even now, feeling your warm skin against his, it feels like a lie that just two months ago he hadn’t even met you.

What he can’t say with total certainty is that you like him the same amount. Or that you like him any amount, really, although in his naivety he doesn’t understand how anyone could be this intimate with another person without liking them at least a little bit. And he doesn’t just mean the sex. He means this. The silently laying in each other’s arms, the soft kisses, the caresses wherever hands can reach. Eating post-sex snacks together, laughing as you watch the first episode of each other’s favorite sitcoms (Brooklyn Nine-Nine for him, Pen15, oddly enough, for you). Falling asleep together, cuddling the entire night then waking up and diving right back into each other’s embrace.

After an entire day spent in rumination, Sunghoon’s still not sure what to make of it all.

All he knows is that when he DMs you that night, asking you how your day went, he goes through every emotion between anxiety, self-hatred and indifference in the five minutes that separate his text from your reply. He’s never been so happy to hear that someone couldn’t concentrate in class because of him.

Sunghoon has always been obsessed with the way couples stand together in public.

Every time, it takes everything in him not to stare, because he wants to take in every little thing they do. He has that practically everywhere he goes, wanting to stare at people just to see what their deal is, but he is never quite as simultaneously fascinated and envious as when he spots a couple. But he knows staring isn’t the socially appropriate thing to do, so he either steals glances or watches for a little bit then pretends they aren’t there. He can’t help himself—even if they aren’t holding hands or obnoxiously making out in public, it’s still visible to anyone with eyes that there is something tying these people together. It’s in the way they stand near each other, their bodies turned inwardly, as though enveloped by a bubble containing just the two of them and no one else; in the way they look at each other, their eyes never straying from the other’s face as they talk, intimacy showing itself even in a loud, crowded room. Sunghoon craves to find that proximity, to be able to touch and be touched so softly, every graze of a hand purposeful and unconscious at the same time.

It’s the first of November already. The Weather app, as it tends to do, has deceived you; so instead of a walk on what was supposed to be a sunny day, you find yourselves in a busy café near the University, the air outside too chilly even with your scarves and gloves. You’re waiting for your order at the end of the counter — a mocha for him, an oat flat white for you — when he notices it. Your body is fully facing him, you’re distractedly playing with the hem of his sweatshirt, and you’re not looking at anything but him as you rant about that annoying classmate of yours that goes by a self-made nickname and always talks over the tutor. In this light, the two of you are like the couples he’s always longed to be—the simple thought makes him want to cry. As more and more often is the case these days, you have no idea what you’re doing to him.

It’s been around two months since you first met and in that time, although Sunghoon is lucky not to have enough fingers to count the number of times you have seen each other one-on-one, not much has happened. Minjeong, who had understood what was going on the first time she saw the two of you eating leftovers from the Japanese restaurant on the couch at 10 a.m., has grown accustomed to his presence in the apartment and even sometimes sits down to watch a movie with the two of you—a movie that Chaewon would usually have forced you to watch in the living room instead of the privacy of your bedroom, so that everyone could join. Sunghoon is just glad Minjeong has stopped silently scolding him with her eyes every time he comes out of your room. She never mentions that night when she essentially warned him against you after the party.

Jake seems to be the only oblivious one in your group. Yunjin and Chaewon have eyes like hawks and horrifyingly vivid imaginations when they put their heads together, so they were probably already making plans for your wedding and fighting for the title of godmother when you and Sunghoon met at the beginning-of-semester party. They cornered him once at a party and forced him to spill the beans and spare no detail, because you apparently were “denying everything, but we know there’s something going on.” Jay is still Sunghoon’s go-to person when he needs advice concerning you, although the older boy doesn’t understand why it has to be so complicated and always tells him to “just tell her how you feel,” which Sunghoon will not do unless there is a gun to his head. But Jake just seems happy to see his friend and his sister get along this well—no matter how many times you wear his jacket at their games or disappear at the same time at the end of parties, he doesn’t grow suspicious. If he does, he doesn’t mention it to Sunghoon, at least.

Between the two of you, not a word is spoken about the nature of your relationship, which remains unbearingly undefined. For a while, he weakly convinces himself that he doesn’t need to have that conversation with you. He’s young, he’s free, he should be able to enjoy casual sex without putting a label on it. The main problem, though, was that the sex could not be further from casual, at the very least not to Sunghoon.

He has never known anything quite like it. In mere weeks, you’ve both mastered the art of pleasuring each other. He understands your body like it’s his, knows what each of the sounds and expressions you make means. He knows where to touch you to have a kiss go from light-hearted to dizzyingly intense, how to move his mouth to have you arching your back and holding onto him for dear life. And you—he thinks your skin must be laced with cocaine, the way he can never get enough of it.

But it’s always the moments afterwards that get him in his head. To him, casual sex means getting dressed the minute it’s over and going off to do other things, which is the absolute opposite of what you do. Whether it’s falling asleep together or spending Sundays in bed, you always stay together afterwards, curled up in each other’s arms as you talk away the hours, conversations interspersed with slow, lazy kisses. He’ll say things like, “You’re so pretty,” or “Why do you smell so good?” because he’s so smitten with you that he can never stop himself from uttering every compliment that flashes through his brain, but the things he really wants to say are harder to speak out loud. Even just a What are we?—three simple words that he can’t bring himself to ask, too scared it’ll ruin everything.

Arguably worse is that sex isn’t even a requirement for when you and Sunghoon see each other. He goes on walks with you whenever you’ve spent too much time in the library and need some fresh air. You go shopping with him when his department throws a fundraiser and he needs a formal outfit. He cooks you your favorite meal when your period is particularly nasty. You sneak into the ice rink after his practice and let him ‘teach’ you how to skate, even though you already learned how with Jake when you were kids. Even mundane moments become fun when spent with you, and you share so many hobbies and interests that you never run out of things to do or talk about.

And yet, it feels like one step forward, two steps back with you—if you let him close one night, you’ll run away the next. A week will pass without you seeing each other outside of the library or group hang-outs, and if Sunghoon asks you out, you’ll say no, usually blaming the amount of work you have. He gets it—due to the nature of your degree and your being a fourth-year student, your workload is much heavier than his, with essays, translations and oral presentations due every other week. And that’s not even including midterms and finals. But still, he doesn’t see why you would need to stay at the library for ten hours straight for days on end. He’d start worrying about your health if you didn’t at least relax on weekends.

So while Sunghoon wants nothing more than to go all in with you, he senses you holding back. He notices you avoiding eye contact during particularly intimate moments, and when you look at him perhaps too fondly for your liking, you quickly catch yourself and resume your neutral, sometimes almost cold expression. When he tries to broach more personal, sensitive topics, you always find a way to change the subject or turn the conversation towards him before you get too deep.

As time passes, and especially as exam season nears, he can tell there’s something that you’re not telling him about. His suspicions are confirmed when you come back from a weekend at your parents’ house. He’s also been away for an out-of-town hockey game, and because he hasn’t had much time to text you (and because their team won, so he wants to show off a little), he’s particularly looking forward to seeing you again that Monday. It’s only been three days since you’ve last seen each other, but he misses you like crazy.

But the minute you’re back, you bury yourself in work like never before, often waking up at ungodly hours and staying at the library until midnight. More than once, he stays behind with you, long after the others have gone, reminding you gently every hour that it might be time to go home and get some rest. The moments you actually agree are few and far between, and although he sticks it out at first, sleeping with his head on the table until you tell him you’re ready to go, your stubbornness soon starts frustrating him, and he ends up leaving when he gets too tired. He knows this is important to you, but he doesn’t understand why you have to go to these lengths—you’d still easily be one of the best students in your class without all this exertion. And despite his many attempts, you won’t tell him what’s wrong, won’t even admit that something is wrong—you keep repeating that “it’s just what exam season is like.”

When he asks your friends about it, they seem just as confused as he is. One evening when you have plans to order some food and watch a movie at your apartment, he shows up at the agreed time, but you’re nowhere to be found. Thankfully, the girls are there to let him up and not leave him standing outside in the rain. You don’t pick up when he calls you and call him back a minute later, apologizing profusely but still saying that there’s something you really need to finish first. If it was only a one-time thing, it wouldn’t make him as angry as it does—but this has been going on for almost two weeks now, and Sunghoon is close to boiling point.

The fact that it’s been months since your date at the Japanese restaurant, and the only thing that you’ve said about what was happening between you and Sunghoon “didn’t have to change anything.” The fact that you’re essentially each other’s boyfriend and girlfriend without the label or the reassurance that comes with it. The fact that there’s something clearly bothering you but that you won’t tell him about it. The fact that this something is effectively coming between the two of you. Sunghoon was originally more worried about you than anything—now that studying has taken obvious precedence over him in your list of priorities, he’d be lying if he said his ego wasn’t wounded. He isn’t asking to be the number one most important thing in your life, and he knew before even meeting you that high academic performance meant a lot to you, but he likes to think he deserves at least a little bit of your time and attention.

Except, does he really? It’s not like you’re actually dating.

There’s a pang in his heart as he remembers this fact that he should never have forgotten in the first place. It hurts—and so perhaps, he’s less patient than he ought to be.

“Whatever, Y/N. Don’t worry about it, just let me know when you have time for something other than getting As.”

He hangs up and meets your flatmates’ worried eyes.

“She still at the library?” Chaewon asks, tone delicate as if trying not to scare off a wounded animal. Sunghoon nods, a deep sigh escaping his mouth.

“She always studies a lot,” Minjeong starts, “but this is something else.”

“Have you guys tried saying something?”

The girls nod. “Even Jake has talked to her, but she won’t listen. And he usually always gets to her,” Minjeong says.

He goes home soon afterwards and spends the rest of his evening in rumination, torn between his worry and his anger towards you—emotions which only increase as more days pass, and he sees less and less of you. Your behavior was already concerning while preparing for your exams and final assignments, it gets even worse when exams actually do start. He doesn’t hear from you for an entire week, and the one time you miraculously agree to a short group hang-out in the form of getting coffee, you’re only half there, physically present but mind far, far away. You barely react when the guys tell you about their victory at the latest hockey game—which you didn’t attend, as well as any other game recently.

No matter how much he tries to put it out of his mind, to focus on his own exams and hockey games, you stay at the forefront of his thoughts. The hockey team is away for another out-of-town game when he decides to broach the subject with Jake, with whom he’s sharing a room. The entire semester, he’s been careful not to raise Jake’s suspicions about the two of you, both out of consideration for you, who’d mentioned you didn’t want your brother to know what was going on, and for himself, who would also rather Jake not know, at least not until your relationship became official. Which it never did. But now that all he gets from you is radio silence at a time when you’d usually be an hour into a FaceTime call, he can’t help himself.

Jake is just coming out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel, when Sunghoon takes his shot in the dark. “Have you heard from Y/N recently?” he asks as nonchalantly as he can, pretending to not be avidly waiting for his friend’s reaction by keeping his eyes on his phone.

“Y/N?” Jake echoes. “No, not really. Why?”

“Just ‘cause I haven’t seen her around much. I’m wondering if everything’s okay.”

“You mean her staying at the library all day?” Sunghoon nods; Jake sighs. “Yeah, she’ll snap out of it soon enough. She gets somewhat like this every time exams come around, but even I have to admit it’s pretty tough this time around. The last time I saw her like this was way back in high school, and that’s because our parents were watching right over her shoulder. It’s been better in university thanks to the distance.”

“So this has to do with your parents?”

“Oh, one hundred percent. She’s always wanted to do well at school, but she only gets this obsessive when our parents are involved.”

“I guess this did start after that weekend when she went home…” Sunghoon muses absent-mindedly. It could’ve passed off as an off-hand remark, but Jake pauses in his movements and looks at him warily.

“Yeah, she did… You noticed that, huh?”

Sunghoon pauses. This whole time, he was sure Jake was oblivious to anything happening between you and him—but he might have underestimated his friend. Like brother, like sister; he can hardly read either of you when he really needs to. Jake might genuinely be surprised that Sunghoon remembered your whereabouts that weekend, or he’s onto him. “I guess I did,” he finally says, going for as noncommittal an answer as he can.

Jake says nothing for a bit, and Sunghoon thinks he’s managed to get through the conversation without raising too much suspicion—until a minute later, when Jake speaks again. “Do you… like Y/N?”

Sunghoon freezes, snapping his head towards Jake, who’s lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. His first instinct is to deny, but there’s no point pretending anymore. It’s one thing keeping it from Jake—lying to him about it is something else entirely. It’s an uncomfortable conversation, but it must be had. “Yeah, I do,” Sunghoon replies, guilt clear in his voice, more because he’s only now admitting it to Jake than because of his feelings themselves.

A shaky breath comes out of Jake’s mouth, as if this was the exact answer he had dreaded. “Right, okay. Since when?”

“Since I met her, basically.”

Jake’s head whips towards Sunghoon, and their gazes meet awkwardly. “Since that party in September?” he asks, shock written all over his face. Sunghoon nods, and to his surprise, Jake bursts out laughing. “Don’t tell me it’s because you accidentally matched costumes?”

Sunghoon looks away, frowning. “That might’ve helped things along,” he mumbles, embarrassment washing over him as Jake’s laughter intensifies. At least he was taking it well—a bit too well, perhaps.

“You’re so predictable, man,” Jake says when he’s calmed down, wiping a tear from his eye.

“How did you know, anyway?”

“You’ve been pretty obvious with it recently,” Jake replies after a few seconds. “I could tell you were a bit shy around her at first, and when it got better I just thought you’d become friends or something. But when she showed up with your jacket at every game and you never left her side at parties, I assumed something else was going on. You’ve always been staying behind at the library these days, and I know you don’t have that much work.”

Sunghoon chuckles. “I guess I haven’t been trying hard to hide it lately.”

“Yeah, why would you hide it in the first place? You could’ve just told me.”

“I didn’t want to make things weird.”

Jake frowns. “It wouldn’t have been weird. If anything, hiding it makes it weirder.”

“I just thought, if one of my friends had a crush on my sister, I’d probably rather they hid it. Like, I don’t need to know about that,” Sunghoon says, and it makes Jake laugh.

“Dude, Y/N and I are only a year apart. Do you know how many guys have come up to me asking me for her number or advice on how to ask her out? It’s been, like, one every few months since middle school. Guys here especially have no shame telling me how hot they find her.”

Sunghoon makes a face. He doesn’t disagree, but he’d never go out of his way to tell your brother how exquisite you looked in certain outfits. “That’s gross.”

“Yeah, it is. But you’re my friend, not some greasy rando, so I trust you. If anything, I’d probably have to tell her to be nice to you, and not the other way around.”

“Yeah, you could say that again,” Sunghoon grumbles, then realizes his mistake immediately, eyes widening.

“What do you mean?” Jake asks, sounding genuine at first, but when Sunghoon stays quiet for a couple seconds, debating whether he should just lay the truth bare, Jake sits up on the bed and repeats his question, his tone much warier this time around. Sunghoon glances at him then looks away guiltily.

“Well, to be completely honest… We’ve sort of been seeing each other, kind of. But it’s complicated.”

Jake flops back down on his mattress with a grunt. “Who else knows?” he asks, rubbing at his eyes with his hands as if suddenly very exhausted.

“Everyone…”

“Everyone?!”

“Well, Jay, Minjeong, Yunjin and Chaewon.”

“So everyone.”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Great.” Jake sighs. “Since when?”

“Since October,” Sunghoon mumbles, feeling guiltier than ever. He’s belatedly realizing that it would’ve been much easier to have everything out in the open from the get-go, both with you and with Jake; now he’s both stuck in situationship limbo and has to face the consequences of keeping something this important from one of his closest friends. “Are you upset?” Sunghoon asks, feeling a bit like a ten-year-old.

“Kinda, yeah, but more at her than at you. I’ve told her not to go after anyone from the hockey team.”

“‘Cause of Heeseung?”

“Yeah. God, that was messy. He gave her mixed signals for so long, I could barely talk to him without thinking of her crying for so long. And now he’s the one who can’t quite look me in the eye,” Jake says, shaking his head at the mere thought of his captain.

“Was it that bad? She made it seem like it wasn’t that big of a deal.”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “Really? It upset her for a while though,” he says, then turns his head to look at the ceiling again. “I guess that’s not so surprising of her. She sometimes likes pretending she doesn’t have any emotions, even though I’m pretty sure she has more than most people.”

“Huh.” That would explain some things, Sunghoon muses. Emotions are not a topic that comes up very often with you, and every time he’s gotten an inkling of them, you seem to shut it all down immediately.

“But you know, I’m more surprised than anything. About… about it all, really. Not just that you’re only telling me now, but that it’s lasted this long. She must really like you.”

“You think?” Sunghoon says, his face brightening with hope, the words slipping from him before he can stop them once again. He shrinks when Jake laughs at him.

“Look at you. Down bad, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“But yeah, dude. I’ve told you about this. I’ve never seen her in a relationship, ever. Says she doesn’t have the time,” Jake says, air-quoting you. “I’ve only had the displeasure of seeing her go home with one-night-stands. You know that since she started college, she’s had a rule that she’d only see someone three times and that was it?”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, so she wouldn’t catch feelings. I’m telling you, she’s crazy. So you must be special.”

Sunghoon can’t stop the smile from spreading on his lips—special. But it doesn’t make him feel that much better, either. “It’s not like we’re actually dating, so I’m not sure how special I can be…”

Jake’s head turns to look at Sunghoon again, but the younger boy keeps his eyes trained on the ceiling fan above him. “What’s happening between you guys?”

A blush creeps on Sunghoon’s cheeks. “Is this something you really want to talk about?”

“Well, spare me the gruesome details, please,” Jake says, chuckling, “but yeah, I would like to know what’s going on with my best friend and my sister.”

“I’m your best friend?” Sunghoon says, grinning as he meets Jake’s gaze, who rolls his eyes.

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Fine.” He sighs. “Well, I didn’t think it would happen more than once-”

“What would happen more than once?”

Sunghoon pauses. “Well, you know…” Jake gives him a look as if to say, Well, no, I don’t know, so Sunghoon is forced to go on: “Sleeping together.”

“You guys slept together?!” Jake exclaims, sitting up on his bed once again.

“Yeah, what did you think?”

“I don’t know, just that you were going on dates, hanging out one-on-one, or whatever…”

“Well, we were.”

“Ugh, whatever,” Jake says, waving his hand in front of his face like swatting a fly away. “So, not just once, then?”

“No. And I thought it’d be a one-time thing, ‘cause a few days afterwards she said something about it not having to change our friendship…”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. But then it did. Happen again, I mean. And it’s been happening frequently since. But we’re not… dating dating. We haven’t had that conversation.”

Jake frowns. “Why not?”

Sunghoon releases a shaky breath. Why not, indeed. “‘Cause she hasn’t mentioned it. And I’m too scared to do it.”

“What are you scared of?”

“The typical stuff. What we have now… it’s not what I want, but it’s managed to not disrupt the group, you know. I’m scared that if I tell her how I feel, it’ll make things awkward between the two of us, and between all of us by extension.”

“Well, it might,” Jake says after thinking for a few seconds. “I wish I could tell you with certainty that she’ll like you back, but I honestly can’t. As obvious as you were towards her, she was not giving anything away.” Sunghoon chuckles, more out of self-deprecation than anything. This was not the pep talk he had hoped for. “But, I can tell you that she won’t be the type to make things awkward. You have nothing to risk by telling her, because in the long run, you’ll be better off that way. I know you, Sunghoon. You’ll be miserable if you can’t be fully yourself with someone.”

Decidedly, Sunghoon’s friends had a way of telling him the exact opposite of the things he wanted to hear while being completely right. He wishes things with you could stay the same — minus the overworking yourself and ignoring him in the process — and that he wouldn’t have to do anything that might make them change. But just as Jake said, he’d also reach a point where he couldn’t take it anymore—a point he was already inching closer and closer to with every passing day. He likes you enough to let you not define the relationship, but he likes you too much to let it go on. He likes you too much to not be able to tell you, and show you, and remind you of it every day. He hated having to hold back, and he hated feeling you holding back. He wanted to give you his all and he wanted all of you, too, not just bite-sized portions of you.

“You’re right,” he finally says. “I haven’t been able to talk to her lately, but I’ll have to tell her soon enough. When her exams are over, I guess.”

Jake sighs. “Yeah. I don’t know if there’s any getting through to her right now.”

“She’s blown me off so many times! I don’t know what she’s doing, spending so many hours in that library. I’d go insane.”

“She’s a perfectionist,” Jake says, shaking his head. “I’ve talked to her about it. When it comes to school, she needs everything to be as flawless as can be. She spends hours re-reading and editing her work. It’s not good.”

“Not really, no.”

“But she’s only got a week left. I’ll try to convince her not to go home for too long, and it’ll be better after the holidays. Then we’ll make sure there’s not a repeat of this next exam season.”

He thinks of Christmas break and of not seeing you for two weeks; of next semester and going through all of this with you a second time. The uncertainty, the fooling around behind your friends’ backs — although that might not be needed now that Jake is in on it too — Sunghoon’s not sure if he can go through it all again. “Yeah, we will.”

They lose their game the following day. They had an amazing run, either winning or tying every game so far; this loss is not enough to make them drop significantly in the rankings, but it’s enough to demoralize Sunghoon. It couldn’t have come at a worse time—between you and this failed game, his self-esteem is taking a real hit.

He dared hope for some comfort from you once he was back, but in vain. He doesn’t know why he imagined your attitude might’ve changed overnight, and when he texts you asking to hang out, the same old sorry I can’t atm fills his phone screen. And just like that, as strong as his feelings for you have been all this time, so is his resentment—unwarranted, perhaps, but he thinks he deserves better than this, and he’s both angry at you for not giving him anything and at himself for letting it happen.

Now, he’s the one who spends hours working himself to the bone in the ice rink, who’s clearly preoccupied with other things when everyone gets together, and who doesn’t even show up to the party the whole group goes to when you’re all done with exams. The last game before winter break is in two days, and he doesn’t want to waste a day nursing a hangover when he could be practicing.

That night, he thinks everyone is out at some random club downtown, so he does a double-take when it’s past eleven p.m. and you show up at the rink. He’s skating laps, practicing his speed and his goal-shooting, only noticing you when you’re standing in the middle of the rink. He almost skates right into you.

“Y/N?” he asks, not completely sure you’re not just a figment of his imagination. He’s so exhausted, he wouldn’t be surprised if he were dreaming you up.

“Jay texted me.”

“Oh. Why?” He’s out of breath, and the words come out blunter than he intends them to.

“Because it’s almost midnight and you’re still here,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest. There’s a hint of a smile on your lips, but your eyebrows are furrowed in what looks like worry. It’s the first time Sunghoon’s seeing you concerned over something other than an assignment.

He shrugs and resumes his laps, slower this time, forcing you to keep turning on your feet. “I’m practicing. There’s a big game coming up.”

“Which is exactly why you should be resting, like everyone else on your team right now.”

He resists rolling his eyes. “Why would I rest when I could be getting better?”

“Because you need rest as much as you need practice. You won’t be any use on the rink if you’re too tired to play properly.”

“And I won’t be any use if I can’t shoot properly, either.”

“Sunghoon, you need a break. You’re clearly exhausted-Will you stop it?” you suddenly snap. “I’m trying to talk to you, and I’m getting dizzy.”

Your small outburst only has him growing more agitated, and even though he does stop, it’s more so you can see the annoyance on his face than anything. “You know, this is a bit rich coming from you, Y/N.” He knows this is not the right time to bring this up—if he has grievances against you, he shouldn’t be bringing them up when he’s already frustrated. He’s well aware of this, but he can’t help himself.

You scoff. “Excuse me?”

“You’re the one who spends twelve hours a day in the library during exams and does not budge even if I tell you you should go home.”

“That’s different-”

“How is it any different?” he interrupts, voice rising. “You don’t listen to me when you overwork yourself. I don’t see why I should.”

“So you realize that you’re overworking yourself?”

“Of course I do! But I have to.”

“No, you don’t-”

“Y/N, please. I have to win as much as you have to get the top grades. Is it actually necessary? No, but you know how shit it feels not to.”

“And it’s exactly because I know that feeling that I’m telling you to stop. You’re just feeding into it.”

“So are you, staying until 2 a.m. in the library. You’ve never once gone home when I asked you to.”

“Again, that’s different-”

“How?! How is it different? Please enlighten me, ‘cause they’re the exact same thing to me.”

You sigh. A sudden sadness appears on your face. Sunghoon is torn between wanting to see this to its end and taking everything he’s said back. But he keeps quiet, and your eyes, when they meet his again, harden. “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

“Yes.”

As if you couldn’t say your next words while looking at him, you tear your gaze away from his face. “Because I’m actually concerned about you, here. The only reason you want me to stop and go home is so we can fuck.”

Sunghoon is so astounded that all words fail him—he stares at you, mouth wide open like you just shot him. After a few seconds, all he’s able to come up with is an incredulous, “What?” His voice is a mere whisper.

“You heard me,” you say coldly.

He closes his mouth and swallows. “So… you’re the one who’s worried, and I’m only after sex?”

You glance at him. “Yeah.”

A chuckle escapes Sunghoon’s throat, then another, until laughter spills out of him uncontrollably. He feels like the world is upside down. How could you have lived the same thing and come out of it with such different perspectives? Your account of his intentions with you is so ridiculous and unfathomable to him that he can’t do anything but laugh.

You seem taken aback at first, but your surprise quickly turns into annoyance. “Something funny?”

“Hilarious, actually,” he says, holding his stomach. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. All he finds at the end of his amusement is anger, bright red and hot. It’s not an emotion he feels often, its rarity only serving as an intensifier—he starts making his way out of the rink before it can explode and hit you in its wake. “Well, that’s convinced me to call it a day. So you got what you came for, I guess.”

His fingers tremble as he undoes the laces on his skates and puts his sneakers on again. You stand by the door of the rink, holding onto the frame as you look at him, that same sad look still on your face. “Hoon,” you say, voice weak. What would usually have him melting only has his anger flare harder.

“Don’t. For the first time ever, I actually really don’t want to talk to you right now.” He stands up, gives you one last harsh look, and turns away. He only halts right before exiting the bleacher area, and after a couple seconds of thinking, turns back around. “Oh, but don’t worry, I’ll let you know when I want to fuck again. Since that’s all this is, clearly.”

It seemed to you no one thought you were good enough for Sunghoon.

Only Yunjin and Chaewon seemed excited at the prospect of the two of you getting together, or at least getting to know each other, but they were also the type to coo at dogs in the street and tear up at the sight of old people holding hands; Minjeong was apprehensive from the start, and made it clear; Jay was indifferent; Jake was oblivious for a while. Sunghoon was…

What was Sunghoon?

Someone who had come out of nowhere, shaken up your routine and messed with your head. That’s what Sunghoon was. He didn’t seem apologetic in the slightest.

Maybe it was your fault for not opening up to the people closest to you and letting them think you were some kind of no-strings-attached one-night-stands-only emotionless maneater who had been single for as long as they had known her, who would be seen with someone new every few months, and never for long, who, as far as the eye could tell, only used men for sex. Maybe it was their fault for never trying to dig deeper.

No, okay, it was definitely your fault.

Based on your conversations with your friends, they thought Heeseung had broken your heart, and you had never bounced back properly. He’d hurt you so much, you couldn’t fathom a real relationship anymore—you could only be with someone casually. Which wasn’t so far from the truth, but what Heeseung had done was much worse than just breaking your heart. He’d confirmed what you already knew of yourself: you want too much. You want what you can’t have, what you don’t deserve.

From the moment you met Park Sunghoon, you knew you didn’t deserve someone like him. Minjeong seemed to agree, and when she saw you and him together at choir that Saturday in September, three months ago already, she made sure you knew her thoughts on the matter.

“This is so… unlike you,” was the first thing she’d said after she pulled you aside.

“What is?”

“This,” she repeated, waving her arms around. “Being here. Coming with him.” She pointed at Sunghoon, whose hair was being ruffled by one grandma and his cheek pulled by another. He kept glancing back worriedly at you—you liked him so much already. “See? You’re smiling at him,” she said, making you realize a sappy smile had started growing on your lips at the sight of him. Your face dropped and you scoffed at the disgust in her voice.

“Yeah, some of us like to smile. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Y/N, you know what I’m trying to say.”

“I don’t think I do, actually.”

She sighed. “You don’t do this. You don’t meet a guy and show up to his choir practice the next morning. What’s happening?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. Had you known your presence would be questioned like that, you might’ve thought twice about coming. “Can’t a girl enjoy a choir without getting interrogated these days?”

“You’re avoiding my question! Listen, Y/N. Sunghoon is not the kind of guy you usually go for. He’s-Stop. Don’t smile at me like that.”

“If you like Sunghoon, you can just tell me. You know I wouldn’t stoop so low as to go after a guy my best friend likes.”

“So you are going after him?”

“So you do like him?”

Minjeong shook her head violently and put her hands on your shoulders, staring into your brain as if trying to make you see some sense. Calmly, she said, “No, I don’t. Sunghoon’s nice, but he is so far from my type. He’s too… nice.”

“You mean he doesn’t wear leather jackets or ride a motorcycle?”

“That was once. But no, he doesn’t do that. And what I’m trying to tell you is that he’s not your type either.”

“And how have you gathered that?”

“Because so far, you’ve only wisely chosen guys who are as detached and emotionally stunted as you.”

“I’m not-”

“But he’s not like that, Y/N. He’s the bring-home-to-your-parents-for-Christmas type. Not the hump-and-dump type.”

“I’m starting to get offended by this conversation.”

“All I’m saying is, don’t go breaking his heart. Or yours, for that matter. It pains me to say but I care about both of you very much and I don’t see this going anywhere good.”

You shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Was her opinion of your romantic tendencies — or lack thereof — that bad that she couldn’t even recommend you to her friend? You felt like a chastised child whose mom told you you couldn’t get the toy you wanted. Despite being well aware that you weren’t the most committed when it came to relationships, you still felt like she was going overboard. Just because nothing had stuck so far didn’t mean it wouldn’t now—she was acting like you went around playing with people’s feelings for fun.

“Jesus, this is my second time seeing him. I just wanna see what his deal is. I’m not breaking anyone’s heart, okay?”

The choir conductor had called out for everyone to gather on stage then, and that was the end of that conversation. You still remember how funny of a thing it was, seeing Sunghoon in his nice shirt and trousers, his hair falling into his eyes, singing diligently with the choir, when just the night before he had been playing beer pong dressed as Cowboy Ken. In this new light, you understood why Minjeong was so adamant about him not being your usual type, and why the grandmas were fussing over him. You hadn’t known what had pushed you to invite yourself to this rehearsal, and even then as you sat there, you weren’t sure what you were doing or why you couldn’t stop smiling as you watched Sunghoon sing.

Time made things clearer, starting with that afternoon at the beach. The salt in the air that day had clouded your thoughts, covered them with a thin layer so that your usual reluctance to share anything remotely personal had dimmed. Or maybe it had had nothing to do with the air and everything to do with the boy sitting next to you on the sand, the way words came tumbling out of your mouth before you could think about them and were only met with understanding and empathy on his part. For once, you didn’t feel the need to guard yourself, to adapt your words and actions to the person in front of you. It was something you didn’t know was possible with a near stranger—perhaps because Sunghoon felt nothing like one.

He made you feel things you hadn’t felt in a long time; things you had been craving to feel, needed almost as much as oxygen. Being with him felt like breathing again. But you had been underwater so long, being on land again felt foreign, scary, and you couldn’t help but dive back into safe waters, coming up for air once in a while.

Whether he had intended to or not, Sunghoon had started to scratch at your surface, until he’d burrowed a small hole—shallow, but enough for cracks to appear, cracks you were quick to put back together as best as you could.

So when his gaze was too tender, his touches too gentle, you bristled. You went away, because you were afraid of what might happen if you stayed. The more you wanted to give him, the less you gave him anything at all. Your own desire overwhelmed you. His letterman jacket was warm around your shoulders, you proudly walked around with the four letters of his last name on your back, but you couldn’t get out of your mind how cold it would be if it was one day ripped away from you.

You thought of Heeseung, how disillusioned you had been when you thought you had finally met someone who would love you the way you had always yearned to be, only for him to toss you away when you started asking for too much. You thought of your friends in middle school, how it seemed that no friendship could be more wonderful until you overheard them talking about you at a sleepover, about how clingy you were. You thought of your parents, how they had only bestowed kind words upon you when you performed well in your role of perfect daughter, of academically gifted child. How they hadn’t even glanced at any of the drawings you’d done of the four of you, mother, father, son and daughter holding hands with a bright yellow sun in the corner of the sky. How they had pushed you away from their bed when you seeked some comfort after a terrible nightmare. How they had never bothered to hide their disappointment when you came home from school with anything less than an A. How they had shunned your brother for not going down the path they had envisioned for him, how hard you had to fight to make them accept yours was not a worthless one.

Even your best friend seemed to think you were unable to receive affection of the likes of Sunghoon’s—but what you were afraid of was that he wouldn’t handle the amount of affection you knew you were able to give. In a way, that was what had drawn you to Sunghoon in the first place—from the moment you’d met him, you had been able to tell there was something of you in him. It seemed to you he had a heart that was overflowing with love, love to give, love to spare on whoever would have it. In his words, you were him. Nevertheless, your fear of getting hurt overrode your desire to feel Sunghoon’s love, and you didn’t know whether you would be able to revert to your nature after having spent so much time perfecting your new facade.

You knew what it was like to be cold. And so you prematurely braced yourself for it by pushing away Sunghoon’s warmth. If it was going to happen at some point, like Minjeong had hinted it would, might as well get used to it, right?

Except the cold never came. Sunghoon kept on burning relentlessly, no matter how much wood you fed his fire with—you could cling to him for nights on end or ignore his texts for days, without fail, he’d welcome you with his usual, unwavering warmth. He allowed you to bask in it, to momentarily let down your defenses. But something always happened to make you raise them back up—Minjeong would eye the two of you suspiciously, Heeseung would post on Instagram (Is one of the girls on slide five his new fling? Are they serious and it wasn’t that he wasn’t ready for a relationship, it’s that he didn’t want one with me?), or your mom would text you to ask you whether everything was okay.

Yet increasingly, you suspected there was something behind Sunghoon’s warmth, something you had missed, something that was tricking you. He looked at you like you had hung the stars in the night sky, yes; in public, a knowing look from you was enough to have his face turn bright red, and in private, one simple touch had his chest heaving, yes; he expressed disappointment every time you turned him down for a hang-out. Your attachment to him grew, and it became harder to put what the two of you had into words.

It wasn’t just sex—it couldn’t be. It ran deeper than that. You knew what relationships that consisted of just sex were like, and this wasn’t that, it was too good, too intimate to be just that. But you weren’t a couple, that much was clear. Only four other people were aware something was even going on, your brother not included, and you acted as regular friends in front of everyone. Jake had insisted you didn’t fool around with another member of his hockey team because his relationship with Heeseung had already deteriorated enough, he didn’t need to be on weird terms with anyone else on your behalf, so you were not keen on letting him know about what you got up to with Sunghoon. Anyway, even if everyone on earth was in on your shenanigans, you and Sunghoon hadn’t convened on what it all meant. Who knew what was going on in his head? You were no stranger to how deceitful men could be when they were after certain bodily pleasures. Unless Sunghoon said it in so many words, multiple times, you would not be a hundred percent sure he wasn’t only looking to get laid, or wanted someone to act like his girlfriend without the label and the obligations that came with it.

Because you basically were acting like his girlfriend, and he like your boyfriend. You always went to each other. Always, only each other. Whether he needed a second opinion on an outfit, you needed a rant session about your dissertation, either of you a really good orgasm, it was each other you went to.

You waited for him to initiate a conversation about the status of your relationship like one waits for church bells to ring at the turn of the hour—you knew it was coming, but the sound might be too much to bear. And the longer you had to wait, the more you dreaded it. Because how would you react when the time came? You didn’t trust yourself not to run away; neither did Minjeong.

The cold hadn’t come yet. You couldn’t let yourself feel the warmth unreservedly. It was all unpleasantly lukewarm.

Then you went home for a weekend.

It was a good friend from school’s birthday, and despite having spent a lot of time with Sunghoon at the expense of studying, you had done well this semester and thought you deserved a break. After having been away for so long, you had started to underestimate the power of your need for your parents’ approval over you. One small instance that your brother and many other people would’ve brushed off easily was enough to set you off—that same cold look of disappointment when you decided to be honest and told them one of your courses was deadly boring all while being unnecessarily complicated and you had received a low B-grade in it. They barely spoke to you for the rest of the evening.

Exams were a mere few weeks away when you got back. You buried yourself in work, forgot everything and everyone else, even Sunghoon, even yourself.

The cold hadn’t come yet, so you sought it out for yourself.

At the same time, you hadn’t indulged in enough introspection to realize how frustrated you had been at Sunghoon for not trying to create defined boundaries around your relationship. You were unable to do it yourself, you unrealistically wanted him to do the work for the both of you, you got upset when he didn’t. What you were able to do was make up reasons why he wasn’t giving you the what are we talk—he doesn’t like you that much, he just wants sex, he’s settling for you until he finds the next best thing, the real thing. This wasn’t leading anywhere, so you cut it off before he could.

You set foot in the library at seven thirty a.m. on a Monday and every following day of that week, then the next, then the next. He managed to pull you out every now and then—you weren’t that strong against his big pleading eyes, his soft messy hair, his warm hands that entirely covered yours.

Oftentimes, you were too tired at the end of a long library day to have sex. Sunghoon never held it against you—he seemed more than happy to cook you dinner, let you fall asleep halfway during a movie you had chosen, and cuddle all night long. But your body burned with resentment at his mere presence in your bed, in your home, in your text messages. Who was he to stop you from studying, from achieving your goals, to distract you from that top grade just so he could get off? Even your friends and brother weren’t trying so hard to make you take breaks. The worry that furrowed his eyebrows, which you used to want to see fade away with a caress of your thumb, now infuriated you to no end, it seemed — to you — put-on. He kissed your neck and you wanted to push him away instead of melt into him like you had before.

It was his turn to leave for a weekend for an out-of-town hockey game, and you convinced yourself his absence came as a relief. But on the Sunday evening they got back, as you came out of the library, you spotted your brother waiting right outside of the building.

“Why is it so hard to reach you?” he said when he saw you in lieu of a greeting. “What’s the point of having a phone if you don’t even use it? I called you, like, five times.” “It was on airplane mode.” He rolled his eyes so hard, you could almost hear them moving beneath their lids. “What have you done to Sunghoon?” You stopped dead in your tracks. “Sunghoon? What about him?” you asked, chest constricting at the mere thought of him and at the implication that something had happened to him, even if you were the cause. He hadn’t said it in so many words, but it was clear the truth had been revealed to Jake, and for some reason, it didn’t surprise you. You knew they roomed together and assumed Sunghoon must’ve told him. You tried your best to take it in stride. “I thought we said the hockey team was off-limits after Heeseung,” he said sternly. “Also, Sunghoon, of all people?” he adds before you can say anything. “That’s like, my bro. And he’s the nicest guy ever. Not the perfect pick for one of your victims, I must say-” “Oh, please, he’s not a victim. He’s a consenting adult.” “Then why is he so upset over you spending more time studying than with him?” “That’s the male ego for you, Jakey.” Your brother sighed deeply. “He’s really hurt, Y/N. If you were going to reject him, you could’ve done it nicely.”

You frowned. “Who said anything about rejecting him?”

“You’ve shut him out. You’ve shut all of us out.” Jake was staring at you, trying to get you to look at him, but you kept your gaze on the ground and kicked non-existent pebbles around, hands hiding in your coat pockets. “You might not have meant it as one, but he took it as a rejection.”

You scoff. “There was nothing to reject. It’s not like we’re actually together.”

“Yeah, thanks for telling me anything was going on, by the way.”

“It wasn’t any of your business.”

“It is, ‘cause it concerns my sister and my best friend.”

“He’s your best friend?” you echo, a teasing smile on your lips. He rolls his eyes again.

“God, maybe you guys aren’t so bad together after all. But Y/N—I’m serious. You need to do something.”

“Why can’t he?”

“Because you’re the one who’s been fucking around.”

Ouch. “You’ve known about this whole thing for what, two days, and you’re already blaming me for the fact that it’s not going perfectly? How little do you think of me?”

“I don’t think little of you, Y/N, I just know you have a track record of not being serious about relationships.”

Your body tensed up. Maybe it had been a particularly long day. Maybe it had been a long time coming. Tears well up in your eyes—a sight you’ve not let your brother see in many, many years.

“You know what, fuck this, Jake. I’m stressed enough as it is. I’ve done my best with what I have, and you don’t get to pin this on me. As if I was the only person in that relationship. If Sunghoon has a problem, he can take it up with me directly.”

You walked away. Jake called after you once, and when you didn’t come back, caught up with you. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I don’t wanna upset you. I just-I hate seeing him hurt, you know? And you too.”

“I’m glad my feelings are of some importance to you.”

“Of course they are,” Jake said, too concerned to detect the sarcasm in your words. “And you’re right, I’ve only heard Sunghoon’s side of the story. But it really sounded like-”

“Listen, Jakey, I really don’t wanna do this right now. Let’s talk about it when exams are over. I can’t have anything else taking up mental space. I mixed up my Greek third declension endings earlier.”

“God forbid.”

After some arguing, Jake let you off the hook—“Just for now,” he said. You’d get him to recount his and Sunghoon’s conversation in excruciating detail later.

You come out of an evening of contemplation resenting Sunghoon for bitching about you to your brother, of all people. As if he had been begging on his hands and knees for your devotion, as if you had been cool-headed and detached and not thinking he’ll ask me to be his girlfriend any second now every time you spent time together. You told yourself you were well and truly done with him for the time being. If there was anything to salvage, that was future you’s problem.

But late on Thursday evening, Jay sent you a voice message, something he only did when he was gravely drunk, shouting over loud chatter and rap music that Sunghoon hadn’t shown up to a party and was apparently still practicing. You’d caught wind of their loss at the game, and even though your heart had swollen with concern for Sunghoon, very well aware of how important winning was to him, you’d managed to squash it down. You had bigger fish to fry, namely, an Italian written exam that made up 75% of your overall grade for that course. But after ten minutes of re-reading the same three lines of an article from Republicca, you couldn’t get the image of Sunghoon skirting endlessly around the ice rink and potentially hurting himself out of your head. You told yourself you only had this one exam left and plenty of time to revise for it, packed up your things and headed for the rink.

It was past eleven p.m. when you got there. The rest is history.

Your grievances came out in an ugly way, but Sunghoon’s refusal to listen to you got the best of your nerves, and although you really did feel that your worry was more genuine than his, you didn’t truly believe that all he wanted from you was sex—at least, you hoped it wasn’t. It was the first time you ever saw any sort of negative emotion on Sunghoon’s handsome features, be it anger, sadness or pain. It tugged at your heartstrings, made you want to wrap him in your arms and get him away from whatever it was that tugged his eyebrows into a frown—even if that was you.

Now, as if the water has inched up your ankles and frozen over, your feet stay planted on the ice for a while after he’s stormed off. You don’t even realize you’re crying until a hot, salty teardrop falls on your lips.

Your feet regain control of themselves, and they seem to move of their own accord as they guide you right in front of Sunghoon’s dorm room. You’re barely conscious as your knuckles rasp against the door, and the tears that had fallen back behind your eyes spill out once more as soon as your eyes meet his. He’s just come out of the shower, a white towel wrapped around his hips, another one that he uses to dry his hair. His movements stop when he realizes who’s standing at his door, mouth falling slightly agape, chest visibly rising and falling. He’s so beautiful, you feel your heart breaking all over again.

Sobs pour uncharacteristically out of you, so much so that you have to hide your face behind your eyes. He ushers you in, holds you tight as everything flows out, the stress, the resentment, the loneliness, the longing. How could he be so close yet so far away this whole time? Did he want those miles of distance between you, or had you forced them upon him?

Sunghoon smoothes your hair down and shushes you, telling you it’s okay and that he’s here, voice strangled as if he’s on the verge of crying, too. A part of you still feels angry towards him, but the bigger part of you knows only he can give you the comfort you need.

“I missed you,” you say when you’ve calmed down partly. You only realize how true those words are once you’ve spoken them. You’ve missed waking up next to him, watching trashy reality TV together, taking coffee breaks that lasted too long in-between study sessions. You’ve missed the scent of his hair, the scent of his skin, you’ve missed watching the way his back muscles shift at the slightest of movements, feeling the weight of his head as he lay on your chest. All for a bunch of As you would’ve gotten without exerting yourself so much anyway.

“I missed you too, baby. Where did you go?” Just like that, you break down again, and he dissolves into apologies. “You’re here now, it’s all that matters,” he whispers against your hair.

“You didn’t see them, Hoon. You didn’t see the way they looked at me,” you say, struggling to speak, unsure you’re even making any sense but unable to stop. “I got As in everything, I worked so hard. Just one B, one week where I had four things due at the same time. Their faces, Hoon, like they were thinking, what was the point of letting me do this degree if I wasn’t even going to excel in it?”

“But you do excel in it, Y/N. You’re amazing at what you do. And even if you weren’t, you love it, and that’s what matters the most.”

“Not to them, it doesn’t.”

“Then forget them.”

“I can’t, Hoon,” you say, voice trembling. “I just can’t. I need them to be proud of me.”

“Isn’t it enough to be proud of yourself?”

“I wish it was.”

“Does it help if I tell you how proud I am of you and of how hard you’ve worked?”

He doesn’t see it, your face is still hidden in the crook of his shoulder, but a small smile makes its way to your lips. “A bit.”

“Then I’ll tell you everyday until you don’t need their approval anymore. They don’t deserve you, Y/N. They don’t even see what an amazing, beautiful, smart daughter they have. Or her sort-of-okay brother.” You laugh, and so does he. Sunghoon’s words and soothing touch against your back already alleviate the weight on your heart. “But I see it.”

You lift your head to look at Sunghoon. His eyes are glassy. “You see how amazing, beautiful and smart Jake is?”

He laughs again as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, exactly.” The way he looks at you makes you wish you could go back to the day you met him and right all of your wrongs. No more hiding or running away. You only want to stay under that gaze of his. But sadness soon replaces the joy in his eyes. “You mean so much more to me than you give yourself credit for, Y/N. This has never been just about sex for me. Not even for a second.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Then what has it been about?”

He frowns like a student in an advanced math class who’s just been asked what three plus three is—isn’t it obvious?

“I love you.”

Your eyes dart between his as if searching for any trace of deceit there. Of course, you don’t find any—because there hasn’t been any since the start. You’d let your own fears invent things that weren’t there. Your lips tremble and you find yourself bawling on his shoulder once more, your tears like a well that digs deeper and deeper so as to never run out of water.

“I hope these are good tears,” Sunghoon says light-heartedly, but you can detect the nervousness behind his words. You nod your head vigorously, willing yourself to say something back, but your tears overflow, make your breath hitch.

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” you manage in between sobs.

“I didn’t think it was the kind of thing you wanted to hear,” he explains.

“I was waiting for you to say something.”

“I didn’t know. I thought I was being obvious enough.”

“You probably were. I was the one who couldn’t see it,” you admit.

“I thought you didn’t want me like that.”

Sunghoon chuckles, a sound of relief. “I’ve wanted you like that since the start.”

“I think I have too.”

“You think?”

You lift your head again and when your eyes meet Sunghoon’s, it feels like coming out of your hiding place hours after the round of hide-and-seek was over. He hadn’t forgotten to come and find you. He was waiting for you to reveal yourself.

Which goes against the rules of hide-and-seek, but you don’t blame him.

You smile; he smiles, deep dimples carving crescents into his cheeks. “I love you, too.”

You hadn’t realized how cold your hands were until Sunghoon found them.

Everything after that was a blurry mess of tangled limbs, warm kisses, happy tears and relieved laughter.

Your touch had always been intoxicating, but Sunghoon was particularly sensitive to it that night. The mix of not having felt you close in weeks and the heightened emotions driven by your confessions made his skin tingle everywhere it came in contact with yours. He’d never slept so little without regretting it in the morning.

It goes without saying that most of the night was not spent talking, but you still had things you needed to discuss. The two of you laid out all of your fears, and Sunghoon was immensely relieved to finally get a glimpse into that mind of yours. He made you promise to always tell him what was going on, and he promised you you’d never be too much for him. Always just right.

Now, he gets to wait outside of your exam hall with your favorite flowers in hand, to put his arm around your shoulders during movie nights instead of holding your hand beneath the blanket, to kiss you over the barrier at the end of a hockey game he won. Heeseung’s narrowed eyes at the sight of the two of you is an added bonus.

You text him that you’ll hang around the locker rooms after the game so that you can head to the party together. The end of December is nearing and you can’t wait for the new year, for twelve whole months of not hiding your feelings for Sunghoon from anyone, not even from yourself, least of all from him. At least, that’s what you told him in a sappy, drunken voice message at two a.m. the previous night when the girls made you drink a bottle of prosecco to yourself—their way of congratulating you for an arduous but successful exam period.

He steps out of the locker rooms with Jake and Jay. You’ve never looked quite as pretty, face lighting up as you spot the three of them, his jersey on your shoulders. You’d worn it during your last exam—“I thought it might bring me luck to wear a pretty boy’s name on my back,” you’d told him, to which he’d replied that it was good practice for when you actually took his last name. You’d looked away, fighting a smile.

Now your smile is full-blown as you look at him, but the downside of being an official couple is that Jake has now more material to tease the both of you with.

“Oh my God, you waited for me, what a sweet sister I have been blessed with!” he exclaims, arms outstretched as he barrels towards you.

“Fuck off, Sim,” you say but accept his hug nonetheless. “Nice game.”

“I know.” He pulls away and ruffles your hair. Jay nods at you like you’re someone he shared a class with back in second year and not his friend of almost three years.

As if on cue, just as Sunghoon reaches you and envelops you in a hug, Jake turns around and yells loud enough for all the players spilling out of the locker rooms, “And don’t forget to wear protection! I’m not ready to be an uncle yet.”

“That’s disgusting, Jakey,” you yell back, and he smiles proudly. Sunghoon had never thought the day would come where you’d initiate a kiss in a room full of people—he’s on cloud nine when you take his head in your hands and press your lips to his, murmuring praises about how well he played.

“It was all for you, baby,” he says, trying to appear cool even though a blush is creeping up his ears.

“Not for the recruiter of the national team?” you asked with a smirk.

He smiles, shrugging. “Maybe a bit for him too. You’re the one I want to impress.”

“Consider me impressed.” You stand on your tiptoes to kiss him a second time.

You head towards your friends, hands warm against each other.

In classic mysterious Jay fashion, he organizes a New Year’s Eve party that he can’t attend himself.

He’s on holiday in some exotic country halfway across the world with his family, but he’s offered up their house for a celebration and tasked Jake with making sure no one trashes anything.

The party started three hours ago, and you’re sure it’s in full swing by now—you’re sure everyone is having a jolly old time, getting drunk enough to welcome the new year with a hangover, searching the crowds of people for the person they’ll want to kiss at midnight. You’re sure that people are having so much fun that whoever notices your and Sunghoon’s absence might think you’re missing out.

And maybe you are—but there’s nowhere you’d rather be than where you are now, straddling your boyfriend’s lap in the backseat of his car. He’s a little bit tipsy, you’re a little bit tipsy, it’s obvious in the way you kiss each other, messy, impatient, interspersed with giggles and with perhaps too much tongue. Your hands are not much more polite, harshly grabbing at his hair just the way you know he likes it, and neither are his, having snuck their way underneath your black satin dress long ago already.

When Sunghoon pulled you away from the party, you’d appropriately exclaimed, “But the party?”, to which he replied, “Fuck the party.” It wasn’t like him to curse, or to have anything but a bashful smile on his lips, like a guilty dog who’d been caught doing something it knew it shouldn’t, even though he was just standing there, so when you see his stoney expression, you think something serious must’ve happened.

The something serious turned out to be “that guy who was touching your shoulder.”

Clearly, it’d take Sunghoon a little bit more time to be entirely secure in your relationship. In the meantime, you didn’t mind letting him fuck his jealousy away.

Although he’d been the one to whisk you away, you’re the one who finds yourself begging for him to speed things up. Your flimsy thong does absolutely nothing, so you’re basically grinding yourself bare against his clothed erection—and it’s not like the fabric of his suit trousers is very thick, either. A girl can only put up with so much dry humping before having her boyfriend’s dick inside of her goes from being a want to a need.

“Need you, Hoon,” you coo against the shell of his ear. A few words usually do the trick, but Sunghoon has other plans tonight.

“What do you need, baby?”

“You.”

“I’m right here,” he says, punctuating his words with a squeeze of your ass.

“You know what I mean,” you say, practically whining.

“I’m not sure I do, actually.”

You pull away and, looking at him directly, say, “God, Sunghoon. I want you to fuck me.” His shit-eating grin simultaneously makes you roll your eyes and goes straight to your core.

“That I can do.”

He keeps one hand on your ass as he loosens his tie first, then undoes his belt and trouser buttons. His slacks and underwear pool around his ankles, and all he needs to do is hike your dress up around your hips and push your thong to the side. You wrap a hand around his dick, but your mind is too hazy to do much with it—he’s started rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb, the pressure and speed as perfect as it always is. You let your forehead fall against his shoulders and moan unabashedly, thankful he decided to park the car far enough away from the house.

“You like it when I touch you like this, baby?”

“I love it, Hoon.”

He hums his approval. “You’re so perfect. So perfect and so wet for me, isn’t that right?”

You start to say “yes,” but you interrupt yourself with a gasp. You hold onto Sunghoon’s arm, feel his muscles move under your palm as he slips two fingers inside of you without warning. “Please,” you choke out, a tight knot already forming in your stomach.

“Please what?”

“Need you. Need your dick, baby.”

He smiles as if endeared, but his words couldn’t be more different. “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before going off with some random guy the one minute I was somewhere else.”

“He’s just-fuck, Hoon, he’s just a mutual friend of Jay and I. Fuck, right there, baby.” Forming coherent sentences when Sunghoon’s fingers flick against that perfect spot deep inside you again and again is no easy task, but you need to defend yourself.

“Right there?” he echoes, voice a whisper against your ear. When you nod, eyes shut tight, he slips his fingers out. You look at him, betrayed. “That’s too bad. Why don’t you ask him to touch you right there, hm?”

You don’t know how much of his jealousy is put-on to get you to beg and how much of it is real. You make a mental note to have a conversation with him about this later—right now, you don’t mind playing along if it means your boyfriend will deign to fuck you. You know he wants to, he’s just making you work harder.

You move your hand up and down along his dick, brush his reddening tip with your palm every now and then. “He couldn’t touch me like you, Hoon.” You lean in and trail kisses along his neck, his jawline, his ears. “Can’t fuck me like you, either.”

With exams, hockey matches and any other responsibilities out of the way for winter break, the two of you had had an obscene amount of sex in the past couple of weeks. You’d done other things, of course, namely having much-needed conversations with each other, your friends, your families. Sunghoon’s mother was overjoyed at the news, glad her “duckling had finally met someone” — her words — and his sister kept stealing his phone from him to talk to you when you were on FaceTime. You and Jake had gone home for two days for Christmas, and although Jake had needed to pep talk you into it for over an hour, you managed to tell them that you wouldn’t stand for being belittled for your life choices anymore.

But in-between these conversations, you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. You’ve grown more comfortable with each passing day, both of you bolder in vocalizing what you want and how you feel. And so, you quickly found out that your Sunghoon, your shy, sweet Sunghoon, got off like nothing else on salacious words. In line with his possessiveness, he loved hearing about how he and only he could do these things to you; in line with your need for validation, you could practically come from hearing his praises alone.

“That’s right, baby.” Like the gentleman he is, he fishes out the condom wrapper he had gotten ready from his trouser pocket, tears it open with his mouth and rolls the condom on with one hand, his other one still preoccupied with you. “Come here, my love,” he whispers, his sweet tone worlds away from his previous teasing, almost cocky one. He grabs your hips, guides you closer to him and lines your entrance with the tip of his dick. He lets you go at your own pace, rubs your thighs soothingly as you sink down onto him slowly and adjust to his size. You throw your head back, mind hazy with pleasure as you move your hips back-and-forth against him.

“You feel so good, baby. You’re doing so well for me.” His words make you pick up your pace, and you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers grabbing at his hair and sides of your faces pressed against each other as you start lifting your hips and sinking back down. Sunghoon’s hands hold your ass tightly, guiding you up and down. It’s hot in the car; sweat runs down your hairline and your back, air is running low, the windows are fogging up, but it only adds to the dizzying bliss growing in you. Even the seatbelt receiver digging into your knee doesn’t bother you.

“Feels so good, Hoon,” you moan.

“I know, baby.”

Your hours of studying everyday means your thighs aren’t the strongest—good thing for you that your boyfriend has enough stamina and strength for the both of you. As soon as he feels you tiring, your rhythm becoming slower and more irregular, he picks up your slack. One hand on your back, one arm around your waist, he presses you close to him, his hold on you so tight you can barely move. He bucks his hips harshly into yours, faster and faster, making you cry out with every brush of his tip against that spot deep inside of you. Your whole body shakes with pleasure as your moans grow higher and louder, until the tension in your stomach hits its apex and unravels. A gasp leaves your throat as you come around him, but he’s unrelenting, the overstimulation quickly making tears form in your eyes. Strings of curses and praises of how perfect you are spill out of Sunghoon’s mouth disorderly as he reaches his own end.

Together, you take your time catching your breath, his fingers roaming your back while you trail soft kisses all over his face and neck. “My pretty baby,” he whispers, and it makes your heart swell with so much affection for him that you press your lips to his, shutting him up in case he says something that actually has you exploding.

You wish you could spend some more time just the two of you before returning to the party, but when you check your phone, it’s already five minutes to midnight—he puts his clothes back on as you fix your hair in a rush, Sunghoon helping you wipe away traces of mascara under your eyes, and together, run back to the living room where everyone has gathered. You find Minjeong, Yunjin, Chaewon and Jake, who has Jay on FaceTime. It’s only five p.m. where he is.

Everyone counts down from ten together. The first thing you do in the new year is kiss Park Sunghoon—and you’ll make sure it’s the last thing you do, too.

permanent taglist: @zreamy @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts @moonlighthoon @4imhry @rikisly @loves0ft @iamliacamila @theboingsuckerasseater9000 @chaechae-23 @baekhyuns-lipchain @hyuckslvr @vernonburger @amorbonbon @fluerz @jakeflvrz (ask to be removed/added!)

#sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #sunghoon smut #enhypen smut #sunghoon fanfiction #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen au #sunghoon au #enhypen scenarios #sunghoon scenarios #enhypen imagines #sunghoon imagines

3K notes · View notes

postracehair · 6 months ago

Text

a small request

max verstappen x reader | 2k

even world champions deserve love letters. after missing the mexico gp, you're determined to see max have a good weekend in brazil. maybe all it takes is a handwritten note.

cw: fem!reader, being in love, softness, a track-side kiss, love letters. and google translate, sorry to any dutch speakers.

a/n: was this inspired by that video from austin? yeah, it was! sue me! also, written/posted before the gp, so. no race details <3 xx

You miss race weekend in Mexico. It happens. You can't be there every weekend, much as you'd like to be. You're even more peeved about it after, considering you quite like Carlos and wish you had seen him earn what very well might be his last win with Ferrari. But you're mostly upset because Max, though he won't say so, could probably have used your support.

Years of experience have him calm, cool, and collected despite the team troubles. Flippant, some headlines say. Mad Max, others. But you know he's probably just tired. Tired of the media, of the FIA, of the churning conflict between him and Lando -- something you all knew was coming someday, but maybe not so suddenly. The longest season ever continues to drag and drag and drag.

"Twenty seconds was...Christ, Max," you say. You know what happened, of course. You watched what you could, saw the sharp moves around the corner and heard the radios. It never gets easier, watching him take risks like that. Usually, everyone else backs off, but McLaren can see victory on the horizon and won't let it go. You can't blame them, either of them, you just wish it was all a bit less tense.

"I know," he says, voice raspy over the connection. "I -- well, you know how I feel about it. Don't want to say anything in case the FIA is tapping my phone."

You laugh into your hand so you don't disturb the other people in the airline lounge, not entirely used to places like this, still. Max has told you over and over that it's absurd for you to spend your own money when you're coming to see him all over the world. When you told him you moved things around so you could come to Brazil, he booked you the nicest ticket, per usual.

"Oh, ha, ha," you say. "Don't give them any ideas, Mr. Community Service." You sigh. "Do you need anything? Be honest."

"Aren't you at the airport already? Your flight should be leaving in --" A pause, like he's checking his watch -- "forty minutes."

You glance up at the departures screen. He's right, but you don't give it to him so easily. "Know my schedule, do you?"

"Well, I booked your ticket, so I should think so."

"Your assistant booked it, you mean."

He hums and you picture him in his hotel room, maybe at the window, looking over the city. "I know your flight information. Don't be silly."

"I mean it, Max," you say again. "Is there anything I can do to make the weekend better?" It's a bit of a useless question and you expect him to answer with a snarky get me a new car or apply for the position of steward.

But he doesn't. He clears his throat.

"I'm just glad you're coming," he says, softly. "I've missed you."

You never doubt how Max feels about you, but he must be pretty tired to admit it like this. He's all about actions, this man. Making sure you have what you need when you're at the track, arranging your travel, remembering your schedule. He shows you how much you matter, and that's more than enough. He never wants to make you feel bad for having a life beyond being his girlfriend. And this doesn't, not really. It just makes you ache, fills your chest with the hopeless affection you've felt for him for so long.

"I've missed you, too," you reply. "But I'd like to be useful."

"Oh, I can think of a few things, then," Max says, all of a sudden all cheek. Such a boy, sometimes. A boy in love.

You can't help but laugh, face hot. "Hush, you!"

He huffs. A few beats of silence, the comfortable, well-worn kind. Sometimes, when he's halfway across the world and up late on the sim, he'll call you just to hear you breathe.

"Max?"

"I -- do you remember what you did for my birthday?"

He'd wanted something small, quiet. There was a lot of work to be done with the team but three weekends off meant you had a little time to yourselves. A few days hardly leaving his place, a dinner with some of the guys, a cake you made yourself, hand-delivered in bed. Gifts for a very wealthy man are difficult, especially since Max doesn't seem to want much.

"Oh, the pillow with my face on it?"

Max laughs. The lounge loudspeaker announces that your flight is going to board soon, so you gather your things but keep your phone wedged next to your ear.

"No, the other thing," he says. He clears his throat and summons some of that World Champion courage. "The letter."

You'd written him a fairly long love letter, thinking it would be a nice thing to carry to the races you couldn't be at this fall. It was tempting to be embarrassed about it when you gave it to him the morning of his birthday, but his cheeks had gone pink and he'd buried his face in your neck.

"Oh, that," you say. The airport is busier outside the lounge and you push your case in the direction of your gate weaving between. people.

"You could write me another, maybe."

Max is direct. He is honest, at work and at home, but this surprises you a little.

"You do know I'm about to get on a plane to see you, right?"

He huffs, and you imagine his cheeks pink, eyes bright. "You asked!"

"I'll write you another love letter, Max Verstappen," you assure him. "I'll write you a hundred."

"One is a fine start," he says firmly. "You should be boarding soon, and I've got to go to the press conference. Text me when you've landed?"

"Of course," you reply, eyes rolling though he can't see. "I'll see you soon, okay? Love you."

"Love you, liefje."

On the plane, you tear out some pages from your journal. You'd prefer to have some nice stationery like what you wrote on for his birthday, but maybe this is more romantic, more real. Making do with that you've got because he asked.

In the last one, you told him your memories of when you first met. How your stomach swooped when you made him laugh, how his blue eyes wouldn't leave your dreams. In this one you tell him about when you first realized you loved him. How absurdly early you were sure, how badly you wanted to tell him for weeks. The way you remember every second of when you blurted it out -- his face, his smile. His voice in your ear, telling you over and over, geliefde, ik houd van je, zo veel. I love you, so much.

"You're working hard on that," someone says. You look up at your seatmate, a woman a few decades older than you with a heavy accent.

You feel a little like you've been caught doing something illicit, but you just smile at her. "For my boyfriend," you tell her. "A love letter."

She flattens her palm over heart and sighs. "How lovely," she coos. "I hope he takes care of you, too."

We take care of each other, you want to say. You could tell her about how he sends you postcards from every country he goes to after you told him you like to put them on your fridge. You could tell her how sometimes you text him during his streams to make him laugh on camera. How he remembers your favorites, how he saves you his special team gear, how he sends you flowers all the time. How he likes to sit on the couch, your toes under his thigh, fingers around your ankle. How you've been learning Dutch and how he patiently corrects your pronunciation. You could go on and on and on.

"He does," you say instead.

The plane lands safely in Brazil, but the pilot tells you that there is no open gate and that you'll be sitting for a while. You text Max.

stuck on tarmac, will be later than expected! :(

He must be in media responsibilities still because he doesn't reply until you finally get off the plane.

go relax at the hotel. i'll see you for dinner!

You find your ride easy enough and take a deep breath. The letter you wrote on the plane feels heavy in your pocket, and you just want to see Max. To be near him again. To give him this small thing he asked for.

"Excuse me," you say to the driver. "Do you think we could go to the track, instead?"

You text Max's assistant to say you're headed there, hoping it's not too much of an inconvenience. You're told he's almost done, maybe an hour left, and when you arrive you're led to his driver rooms. His shit is everywhere, per usual. Max is quite neat except in here -- Carmen once told you that George is the same. Clothes strewn about, his race boots unlaced and left in the way, warm-up equipment in a pile. On the table are a few of his things -- his wallet, a notebook, some papers.

Wait a second. One of those papers looks...familiar. It's been folded in three, the envelope it came in nowhere to be seen. His name is scrawled on the blank side in your hand and when you tug it from the pile you can see that it's creased, the edges a little more worn than when you gave it to him a few months ago. Max Verstappen, three-time World Champion, actually carries around the love letter you wrote him. Brings it to the track. It's darling. You love him so much. You pull the new one from your pocket and set them side-by-side on the table where he'll find them.

You ask to be taken to the pit wall, please, so you can see whatever the drivers are doing on track. Some dedication, you're told. The timing ends up being perfect and you get there just as they're finishing. You lean on a gap in the barrier where, on Sunday, crew members will be holding timing signs as the drivers zip around the hot pavement. The crowd in the stands is loud, as always, and maybe you imagine it but it seems to get a little louder when you look out.

The guys are talking amongst themselves and a few of them wave at you. You spot Max as he turns away from Charles and you can't help but grin. His eyes meet yours under his cap and his entire face chances, softens, and he breaks into a jog. You lean out over the concrete ledge and meet him in a kiss that's more two smiles pressed together than anything else.

"This is a surprise," he says when he pulls away. Eyes sparkling, he shows no signs of rejoining the other drivers as they head to whatever their next thing is. Photos, probably.

"I missed you," you tell him. "I've left you something in your room."

"Oh?" He straightens the lanyard of your credentials with careful fingers.

You reach for him, palm on his cheek. His stubble tickles and he leans into it ever so slightly. It doesn't feel like there are thousands of eyes on you, not even a little.

"Yeah," you say. "As promised." Someone calls his name. "Go on, then. I'll be waiting."

He kisses you again, a quick brush of his lips on the corner of your mouth.

Later, you'll wake from your nap in the hotel room to those same kisses on your cheeks, your forehead. Max will gather you in his arms and tell you all the moments he almost told you he loved you, how he could hardly believe when you said it first. You'll tease him for how many times he's read that first letter and he'll cheekily say that's why he needs more. And you will write him more, you'll write him as many as he wants. As many as you can, for the rest of your lives.

But now, in front of thousands of screaming fans, he smiles at only you, boyish and pleased.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen fanfic #mv33 x reader #f1 fanfic #my writing #mv33 #fic: a small request #beep boop

1K notes · View notes

no-phrogs-in-hats · 21 days ago

Text

Billiards !NSFW!

Avenger!Agatha Harkness x Fem!Avenger!reader

word count: 6,447

Content warnings: MDNI; jealous Agatha, established relationship, top!Dom!Agatha, bottom!Bratty!reader, ROUGH SMUT, heavy on the breeding kink, choking, magic strap, spit kink, bondage, squirting, controlled orgasm, dacryphilia (crying kink), tummy bulge, size kink, mommy kink, degradation kink, praise kink, impact play, mild intoxication, minimal use of 'y/n', soft Agatha at the end, AU nobody's dead

Summary: Agatha's birthday had never been a huge affair--until she became an Avenger. Now, she's celebrating at the biggest party ever thrown for her, and it's all thanks to you. But what happens when Tony makes a bet with you that he and Agatha can beat you and Nat at a heated game of billiards?

A/N: So I received a request for a breeding kink oneshot and then my tumblr was all fucked up and I had to delete the original post, so I lost the anon message. So, if you're the anon, here you go<3 I think this is the filthiest smut i've ever written BY FAR and also the longest oneshot I've written.

I'm absolutely going to be making Avenger!Agatha a more frequent addition to my masterlist, so if you have any other ideas lmk! I have a little post here from a while ago about Agatha being an Avenger, so I'll probably be pulling more ideas from there!

And a huge shout out to the hotties of the Keeping Up With the Lesbihahns server! Thank you for being amazing human beings<3

The speakers vibrate with the bass of the song that blares from them.

Across the room, Agatha laughs loudly and snorts before taking a sip of her drink–a ranch water on ice, garnished with a lime. You had been worried when she became an Avenger, not knowing how well she’d fit in, but now, after almost a year, you silently scold yourself. It took a bit of time for her to adjust, but she fits in perfectly, and in your one-hundred-sixteen years of knowing her, you had never seen her so happy.

Now, she celebrates her 353rd birthday at Avengers Tower. After everything you had been through together, from arguments that ended in you leaving, to finding her again and walking the Witches’ Road just a couple years ago, you never saw a future like this with her. But here you are, admiring her from the bar and blushing when she winks after catching you staring.

Having been out before the party, you never got a chance to see her after this morning, and you make your way over slowly. With a drink in hand, you weave through the maze of guests, stopping every so often to say hello and thank them and catch up. In fact, by the time you get to her, your drink is over halfway gone.

“Hi,” she says, turning away from her previous conversation with that sly smirk that she seems to always have just for you.

Her arm goes around your waist and you peck her on the lips, “Happy birthday! I feel like I haven’t seen you all day…”

“Mm, not true,” she says, taking a sip of her drink and tightening her grip on you before she lowers her voice. “You saw me this morning and as I recall, it was quite pleasant.”

“Agatha Harkness!” you gasp, faltering into light laughter. “What is the matter with you?”

“There she is! The birthday girl!”

Just a bit away, Tony has his arms out wide, clearly in the beginning stages of inebriation. Agatha groans into her drink as he heads straight for you.

“Just sent Peter home and Wanda sent her kid with him too,” he says, drinking from glass. “I don’t know why I keep letting them attend these things.”

“What happened this time?” you ask.

Tony huffs, “Well, it’s getting late, and he and Billy tried to learn how to bartend…and subsequently dropped a $300 bottle of vodka.”

Your eyes widen and you smile when you see Natasha walking over. “Hey! Did you hear that Peter and Billy broke a $300 bottle of vodka?”

“Hear?” she repeats, raising an eyebrow and scoffing. “I watched it happen. Slipped right out of Parker’s small hands and landed right on the floor. Looked like he was about to shit bricks.”

Looking behind her, you notice that the billiards table is deserted and turn your head to look up at Agatha. “Would you care for a friendly game of pool, my love?”

“Friendly?” she says. “With how competitive you and I are? Nothing we play is ever ‘friendly’…but yes. I would love to.”

“Want to play?” you ask Tony and Nat. “Or are you too chicken from the last time Agatha kicked your ass, Tony?”

“Alright, fine,” he relents. “But let’s switch it up. Harkness, you’re with me.” At the table, he looks at you and Nat, clearly thinking. “Let’s make a wager. I bet a hundred bucks Harkness and I will kick your asses.”

Nat’s eyes widen and she scoffs, “Alright. You’re on.”

Beginning the game, Tony removes all but two of the balls from the table and you line them up on the head string. You retrieve the cues and hand one to Agatha to begin the lag, but she stops short.

“Wait,” she says, giving you a pointed look. “I know how you play. We need a referee.”

Nat glances around, holding tightly to her drink. The room is crowded and loud, but she manages to wave someone down. “Hey, Rogers!” she calls. “Come be our ref for the lag! This one here likes to cheat.”

Your jaw drops. “I do not like to cheat! Agatha is being dramatic!”

“Not what I remember from the last time we played Monopoly,” she mutters into her drink.

“I didn’t cheat,” you hiss. “You just kept landing on ‘Go to Jail’. And on top of that, you made a very bad investment by buying Park Place and Boardwalk! Everyone knows you don’t go for those! They’re a trap.”

“Alright, enough bickering,” Tony huffs. “But, Steve,” he adds, eyeing you, “keep an eye on her–actually, you know what? Keep an eye on both of them. Harkness cheats just as much.”

You down the rest of your drink, feeling it warm your insides. “I can’t do this without another drink, I’ll be back.” You see Agatha’s empty glass, asking if she wants another, and when she says yes, you dash, getting yourself an extra strong margarita and Agatha another ranch water, both with top-shelf tequila.

You hurry back with both drinks in hand, and when Agatha sees, she smiles as you hand her drink over. “There she is! What took you so long, hon? Planning out your cheating strategy?”

Before she can take her drink, you take it back and take a big sip. You look down and notice that a large lipstick stain has been left. You hum, shrugging your shoulders and giving her a coy smile, “Oops.”

Agatha purses her lips, but there’s an amused glint in her eyes and she takes a swig of her drink.

Setting your drinks aside, you stand to Agatha’s right, both of you lining your cues up with your respective lag balls. Steve stands close to the table with Tony and Nat, eyeing your cues carefully. And when you have them lined up, he starts to count down, “Alright, on three. One, two, three!”

With a light grip on your cue, you hit the ball softly, sending it to the footboard of the table. Agatha’s ball rolls next to yours, hitting the foot cushion just before yours. The five of you watch the two balls roll, your anxiety racing as Agatha’s hits the head cushion first and rolls back toward the head string, stopping a couple inches short. Your ball hits the cushion and rolls, just stopping short of Agatha’s lag ball.

You and Nat cheer, high fiving as Agatha groans. You give her a whiney pout with your best puppy eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry, baby. Are you a sore loser?”

You can see Agatha trying not to smile and she just manages to suppress it, “Not at all,” she scoffs. “That was just the lag. Set up the other cue balls and take your shot so that Stark and I can win a hundred bucks from each of you.”

“You’re very confident tonight,” you laugh.

“Stop teasing,” she huffs. “It’s my birthday.”

“Are we placing bets now?” Steve asks casually, his hand in his pocket as he sips his drink.

“A hundred dollars buy-in,” Tony responds. “You want in?”

“My bet is on these two,” Steve says, pointing to you and Nat.

“Oh, come on!” Tony scoffs. “Y/N is crap at billiards. The last time we played, she sent a ball off the table and Agatha ended up taking over!”

You giggle beside Agatha and Steve shrugs. “I dunno, I just got a feeling.”

Nat removes the triangle and lines up her cue with the ball, aiming for the red 3 at the tip of the triangle. You stay by Agatha’s side, eyeing her from the side. “I better not hear any incantations from that mouth of yours,” you mumble.

“My lips are sealed,” she mutters back.

You hum, “They weren’t this morning.” And you can see her turn toward you and open her mouth in rebuttal, but Nat gets the 9 ball in on her first turn and you cheer. “Awesome, we’re stripes!” you smile, completely ignoring Agatha.

You step up with your cue, leaving Agatha with Tony and Steve. Lining up the cue with the white ball and aiming for the 14 ball, Nat leans over you.

Her left hand comes to your back and her right hand to yours, adjusting the position of the cue. “If you hold it like this,” she says, her voice low, “you’ll get a lot more control.”

You look across the table to where Agatha stands. She holds her drink tightly and her lips are puckered as you make eye contact. And when you grin, you watch her tongue poke the inside of her cheek. You’ve known her long enough now, that you know exactly what’s going on in her head.

You glance back at Nat and thank her for the advice before shooting the ball. The cue ball hits the 14 almost perfectly into the pocket and Nat replaces you with her turn. When you step back you look at Agatha and raise your eyebrows, shrugging your shoulders and grinning. You receive a slow shake of her head and a slight chuckle.

Nat misses her shot and Agatha steps up to take her place, eyeing the 3 ball and shooting it in the closest pocket. Tony takes his place now and lands the 7 ball in the pocket, letting Agatha take her turn again.

As she lines her cue up with the ball, aiming for the 5 ball, Wanda enters the sidelines and is followed by two others–Thor and Loki. Wanda stands beside Nat who asks her if she wants in on the bet–to which Wanda agrees, placing a hundred on Agatha and Tony.

“I’ve seen how Y/N plays,” Wanda says. “My bet is on them.”

Nat purses her lips and sighs, looking you up and down from behind. “I dunno. She’s getting pretty good.”

Across the table, as you watch her with admiration, Agatha can see everything happening and her mind starts to cloud. She takes a deep breath and shoots, only to end up scratching the cue ball in the pocket across from it. “Dammit!”

“I’ll place a hundred on them,” Thor says, pointing at you and Nat.

Loki–who is clearly drunk–looks between the two teams, “I’ll place a hundred on Stark and Harkness.”

You step up to the table and aim the cue ball for the 13, managing to ricochet it off a cushion and land it in the pocket. “You’re up, Romanov,” you say, eyeing Agatha with a sense of pride.

“Well, shit,” Wanda sighs. “Maybe I should’ve placed my money on you two.”

When Nat walks past you, her hand brushes against your waist. Agatha watches on, her nostrils flaring, but still remaining civil–but, God, is it hard when she’s watching you with Nat.

Nat manages to get the 10 ball into a pocket. Only the 12, 11, and 15 balls are left, and you manage to knock the 11 ball into the pocket fairly easily.

With a prideful grin, Natasha steps up again, looking between the 12, 15, and 8 balls. Three more. As she gears up to hit the 12 ball, Bruce and Clint have joined, watching intently.

Tony looks miserable, and his third drink is definitely hitting him, because when you miss your next shot at the 15 ball, he loses his balance briefly before stepping up.

“You haven’t won just yet,” he sighs, and knocks the 2 ball into a pocket.

Agatha’s up again and she leans down, lining up the cue and carefully knocking the 6 ball into a pocket. Tony’s back up and once again successfully hits the 4 ball into a pocket, and when Agatha gets the 1 ball in, tensions rise.

There are three object balls on the pool table.

The 5 ball, the 15 ball, and the 8 ball.

They could easily win. If Tony gets the 5 ball in, all he has to do is knock the 8 ball into the pocket. Neither of them are in the most difficult positions, but being three, almost four, fairly strong drinks in, they could be at the edge of a pocket and he’d still miss.

Your heart races, and you can feel your face flush from the alcohol. Tony lines up his cue with the cue ball and…

He misses.

“Shit!” Agatha groans.

The ones who placed their bets on Tony and Agatha are looking sheepish now, and when Nat walks up to the table, she lines her cue up, draws it back, and shoots.

And the 15 ball goes right in.

Cheers from both sides erupt, some good, some bad. Murmurs bounce around, predictions shared, and you slowly walk up, cue stick in hand.

“You hustled us, didn’t you?” Tony sighs, rubbing his face tiredly.

You lean down to line your stick up with the cue ball. Your eyes go to Agatha and then you look directly at Tony with a shit-eating grin, “Yes, yes I did.”

You draw the stick back, focus on the cue ball, take a deep breath, and strike. The 8 ball rolls quickly…right into the back left pocket.

Tony’s head falls back while Agatha tries not to look so frustrated. As the other members of the team whoop or jeer (with Steve boasting that he knew it and was the first one to place a bet on you), Nat hugs you and Agatha struggles just a bit more to hide her emotions.

She chugs the rest of her drink and you mosey over with a sway in your hips and a smile on your lips. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Why don’t we get you another drink.”

You set the cue stick down on the table while the rest of the gathering either sits down or disperses to other conversations. Taking Agatha’s hand and your empty glass, you follow her to the bar. What follows is a third drink–her fourth–and then retiring to the wildly expensive sofas with your fourth drink around midnight.

Leaning against Agatha in your tipsy haze, you watch as the party guests slowly file out. You both nurse your drinks, talking quietly and soon having the other team members sitting down with you.

You all talk and laugh, sharing stories and adding in quips here and there. When your drink is finished and Agatha’s abandoned hers, you’re pulled even tighter into her side. You subtly look up and notice where her eye line is immediately–you knew it from the second you went to make your shot and Nat came up behind you. Agatha’s jealousy only got worse after that, and her eyes are narrowed at Nat, who seems completely oblivious to it.

Smiling, you know exactly how this will end. You kiss Agatha’s shoulder and then the hand that holds you close. Looking around, you see that there are very few guests left and most of them are at the bar. The music is quieter now, and the rest of the team is thoroughly immersed and distracted by a drunken game of gin rummy.

You lean in close to her ear and lower your voice, “I’m feeling a little…tired, do you want to go upstairs with me?”

Agatha says nothing and stands up, leans down to get her glass, knocks back the rest of her drink, and then takes your hand.

You giggle to yourself as you both rush off to the elevator. “Slow down,” you laugh. “I think I’ve crossed the threshold between tipsy and drunk.”

Once in the elevator, you’re pushed against the wall before you can press the button to your floor. Agatha presses it herself, huffing into your mouth.

“I couldn’t stand watching her touch you like that,” she mutters, breathing heavily as her fingers thread through your hair. “Touching what’s mine…”

You kiss her and pull back, your noses pressing against each other. “You’re so fucking hot when you’re jealous.”

“Shut up,” she seethes, and kisses you hard. “God, I fucking love you.”

The doors on your floor open and you’re pushed out of the elevator. Agatha presses you against the wall, hovering over you as she devours your disheveled look–lipstick smudged, hair frizzy, it drives her crazy and she crashes into you again.

You both stumble to the door, refusing to let go of each other. When the door opens, it’s shut quickly after, with you slammed against it and Agatha’s hands slip under your shirt. You gasp when you feel her nails scrape down your torso, hands grasping her waist tightly as she maneuvers you around.

You’re both breathing heavily, faces flushed and lipstick ruined as her lips suck marks into your neck. “Wait, wait, wait,” you pant, your mind dazed. “Makeup–we should probably take off our makeup.” You slip from her grasp and toss her a look over your shoulder, “And then you can lay your claim on me…”

A fire flickers behind her eyes and she follows you into the ensuite bathroom. Through your intoxicated haze, you messily remove each other’s makeup, uncontrollably giggling as she tries to lay endless kisses on you.

“You taste like makeup wipes,” she hums, laughing and kissing you as the two of you stagger out of the bathroom and toward the bed.

“Mm, so do you, but don’t worry,” you breathe. “That’ll change soon.”

“You know…” she huffs. “I was thoroughly enjoying my birthday…” Her hand comes up to your chin, tilting your head back to look her in the eyes. “Especially the view from behind when you’d shoot during pool…” She takes a deep breath in, “Oh, I loved that…You know I loved that…Until that slut had her hands all over you…”

You glance down at her lips and then back up at her eyes, your hands running over her hips. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say, feigning innocence.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Agatha chuckles darkly. She readjusts her hold on your chin to fully grip your jaw now, fingers digging into your cheeks. She towers over you, making you feel impossibly small as you crane your neck to look up at her. “You’re a big girl.” Her voice is low and gravelly, and it makes your knees weak. “You’re smarter than that. So, tell me, why did you let it happen, baby?”

You choose your next words carefully. You could deny the whole thing again, but you know you can do better, so instead, you say, “Because…I know how you are when you’re jealous…and I know how much it gets you worked up…and I want nothing more than for you to fuck me until I’m crying.”

The look in her eyes visibly changes to something darker. Her lips curl into a wicked smile, “God, you’re such a fucking slut…” Her eyes skim down your body and back up before she leans in close. “Get on your knees.”

“No.” The words tumble from your lips with no hesitation.

“I’m going to tell you one more time…and I’d think very carefully about how you'll respond,” she warns you. With each word, she gets closer to your lips. “Now…get…on…your knees.”

You look her in the eyes defiantly one more time before dropping to your knees slowly.

“Good,” she mutters. “Stay there. Don’t move.”

Agatha crosses the room to the walk-in closet where she remains inside for a short amount of time. When the door opens again, she stands there in nothing but a black lace bra, a satin robe, and…there it is.

She grins as she watches the expression on your face change to something that looks like you’re masking excitement. But it’s hard. It’s so fucking difficult, because every time she puts that strap on–the double ended one, the designated strap that means there’ll be magic involved–you can’t help but squirm.

“Someone’s excited,” she drawls, creeping closer. The mix of alcohol and lust makes your heart race as she gets nearer and nearer to you, before finally standing tall over you. Her hand comes to your hair, stroking it softly, and you can’t help but admire how she looks in this lighting–the dim glow of the bedroom lamps, the floor-to-ceiling windows that cast the white light of New York City into the room, the shadows on the left side of her face seem to sharpen all of her features.

The features that turn hard and dark as she scowls at you.

“Suck,” she commands, her fingers twisting into your hair and jerking your head forward.

You look up at Agatha with wide eyes and lean forward. Slowly taking the strap in your hand, you can feel the light hum of magic and judging by her facial reaction, she can feel every brush of your fingers on the fake cock.

Your head feels light and airy as you take it in your mouth. She huffs, letting out a breathy laugh, “That’s it, baby. Suck Mommy’s cock like the good little slut you are.”

Her fingers tighten in your hair and start pushing your head forward. You feel tears flood your eyes and drool drip from your lip as you begin to choke on the fake dick. Above you, Agatha wears a wicked smile as she looks down. When the tears fall from your eyes, rolling down your flushed cheeks, she reaches down with one hand and wipes them away. “Aww, the poor baby,” she pouts. “Can’t even wrap your hand all the way around Mommy’s cock because it’s so big.”

She pulls your head back roughly and drops you like a rag doll. “Get on the bed.” You stand up and walk slowly over, only moving quicker when she comes up behind you and slaps your ass. “Faster,” she spits.

She practically manhandles you when you get onto the bed, maneuvering you to the middle and giving you no chance to breathe before her lips are on yours again. Her hand grips your jaw tightly, “You suck Mommy’s cock so well, you know that?”

“I do know that,” you say matter-of-factly.

“Someone’s full of herself tonight,” she says smugly. “You’re such a brat.”

You sigh as Agatha leans down to kiss you, “You love it.”

She hums against your lips. “I’d never admit it,” she mutters.

“Who’s the brat now, Mommy?” you tease.

She pulls back and tightens her grip on your face. “Someone needs to fix that filthy mouth of yours,” she growls. “You don’t get to speak to me that way. Do you understand?”

Heat rushes straight to your core and you squirm beneath her, trying to hold back a drunken giggle.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing right now,” she says, shaking her head. “Things are only going to get much worse…but that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

You bite the inside of your lip, knowing that the look you give her when you do it drives her up the walls. Nodding your head, you let out a little, “Mhm.”

“You’re such a slut,” she sighs, shaking her head lightly. “Do you remember your safe word?” she asks, and when you say yes, she leans down, smiling softly. “Good…I love you.”

“I love you too,” you mutter back, receiving the softest kiss of the night so far.

When she sits back, all the warmth that was in her eyes when she kissed you has dissipated. “Now…what to do with you…” Her hands roam your body as she begins to slowly strip you of your black dress and pantyhose. “You’ve been such a brat all a week…teasing me during training–you know how I get when you wear those leggings.” Her voice, though syrupy sweet, is laced with venom. “And your hands when I was driving us home from dinner…” She clicks her tongue, “distracted driving…so dangerous. And now, on my birthday, letting Nat put her hands on you just so you’d get me wound up…” She raises her voice and the sweetness in her voice has gone. “Oh…you’ve been…Such. A bad. Girl…”

Agatha’s hands pull your legs apart roughly, fingers coming down to rub the gusset of your underwear. “Hmm…and look how worked up you’re getting from it.” She moves it aside and drags a finger up and down your slit. “So wet for me, baby. Did choking on Mommy’s cock really get you this turned on?”

The tip of her finger teases your entrance and goes back up to circle your clit. You let out a shuddering breath. “Yes,” you breathe

She hums. “So fucking filthy.” And without warning she tears your lace underwear, discarding them on the bed.

“Agatha!” you gasp. “Those were expensive!”

She shrugs nonchalantly and rubs the inside of your thighs, “Don’t worry about it, toots.” She leans down and kisses your torso, trailing them down to your thighs. “I’ll get you a new pair. I’ll get you ten new pairs. And each one will be sexier than the last.”

She dips her head and licks a long, slow stripe up your slit. She circles the tip of it over your clit before inching it down to your entrance and keeping it there as your head spins with pleasure. She moves it in and out, collecting every last drop of your arousal.

Agatha sits up and leans over you, her hand coming up to grab your jaw again. “Open your mouth.” You obey and she lets a slow string of her spit and your arousal drip into your mouth. “Good girls swallow,” she says, and you do exactly that. She smiles, but it’s condescending on every level. “There she is…What do you say?”

“That you no longer taste like makeup wipes,” you say with a mischievous look and anticipating the reaction that would come after.

Her eyes are the darkest you’ve seen them, but you don’t dwell on it for much longer because the slap that comes to your face is quick and sharp. Her hand grabs your jaw again and squeezes your cheeks hard enough that your lips pucker. “I give you exactly what you want, and you don’t even have the decency to say ‘thank you’.” She looks over your face and sneers. “You really are enjoying this, hm? I wonder how much you’d enjoy it if I edged you to the point of insanity.”

She laughs at the look of fear in your eyes when you realize she’s serious. Her hands grab your wrists and cross them, holding them over your head.

“Keep your hands there,” Agatha mutters dangerously. “Or I’ll tie them up.”

The words “Yes, mommy” are on the tip of your tongue, but instead, you push her to the edge, hands wriggling in her grasp. “If I were you, I’d tie them up.” Your eyes become soft and pleading. “You just fuck me so well, Mommy, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay still.”

Your words have a clear effect on her because she closes her eyes momentarily and steadies her breathing. She climbs off the bed, goes back to the walk-in closet, and returns with your favorite vibrator and the black satin restraints that you use more than you care to admit.

So much so, that you had six hooks installed–four in discrete areas of the bottom of the headboard and footboard, and two on either side of the bed frame, tucked underneath and out of sight.

And after Agatha removes your bra, she utilizes them quickly. Your hands are tied together tightly above your head and she stands beside the bed, looking over you and thinking. “Hmm…Should I tie your legs up too? Completely bound while I fuck you, but never let you cum.”

Silently, she answers her own question and takes four more restraints, tying two to your ankles and the other two to your thighs. You couldn’t lie, you weren’t expecting it to go this far, but, god, you’re not complaining. Her fingers glide through your folds before landing a hard slap on your pussy.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me now?” she asks, face hovering over yours.

“Maybe…” you sigh.

“Maybe?” she repeats. “Well, hopefully, by the time you’re begging to cum, you’ll change your answer.”

She reaches for the vibrator, looking down at you like a predator with its prey. “I’m going to have so much fun with this,” she groans, turning the vibrator on to its lowest setting and pressing to your clit. As your back arches and your jaw drops, two fingers are slipped inside you easily.

Her fingers curl and speed up quickly, the sound of your wetness and your moans filling the room. You don’t think you’ve ever had an orgasm approach so quickly.

“Agatha! I need–!” You choke on your words as you struggle against the restraints.

She stops her motions and the vibrator entirely, running her hands over spread thighs. “Still having fun?” she says, patronizing you.

You huff, keeping on your facade that’s quickly fading, “Yes, I am, actually.”

Agatha sees right through you, of course, and after giving you a few minutes to settle down, she turns the vibrator back on. She repeats this routine until you lose track in counting and you’re sobbing.

“You wanna cum?” she asks, pouting. When you nod your head and let out a strangled cry, she removes the vibrator and her fingers. “Oh, poor baby…I thought this is what you wanted, though?”

Your chest is heaving and tears blur your vision. You choke on your sobs through the most pleasurable pain you’ve ever experienced. “Mommy, please! Please, please, please!” you sob.

“Bad girls don’t get to cum,” she says, her hand wrapping around your throat. “You know that. So, I’ll ask you again. Are you going to be a good girl?”

You whimper beneath her, the tip of her strap grazing your clit as the pressure inside becomes unbearable. “Yes!” you say finally. “Yes, I’ll be good! I promise!”

“Will you use your manners?” she asks. “Say please and thank you? And take everything that I give you, and do everything I tell you?”

“Yes, Mommy!” you say, arching your back into her. “I’ll do anything, I promise! Please!”

Agatha hums and kisses you, trailing her lips to your cheeks and licking the tears from them. She sits back and slips her fingers back into your cunt with ease before turning the vibrator back on. You moan loudly, verging on a scream as your orgasm comes hurtling toward you. You cry and beg and plead for Agatha to let you cum, and finally, those words leave her mouth.

“Cum for Mommy, baby,” she tells you. “That’s it! Good girl!”

“Thank you!” you cry. “Thank you!”

Your body shakes and you scream as you gush all over her hand. She throws the vibrator aside, fucking you through your orgasm as you sob. “There she is! Good girl! Look at you!”

When you go limp, she leans over you, opening your mouth and sticking her middle and pointer fingers inside. You close your lips around them immediately, moaning at the taste of yourself. Agatha presses her fingers on your tongue, pushing them back far and fucking your mouth until you choke. When she pulls them out, spit following, she grabs your face hard and kisses you even harder.

It all happens quickly. She sits up, not giving you a moment to recover, releases your legs from their bounds, throws her robe on the floor, and takes a pillow from behind you and places it under your hips. Her hands come under your knees, gripping your thighs and pushing them wide open.

A loud moan escapes your throat as she slowly thrusts into you. “It’s too big!” you cry. “Agatha–”

“Ah, ah,” she tuts. “No complaining.” She softens her voice, comforting you with a hand over your stomach. “I know, baby. It’s bigger than usual, but you can take it.” When her hand presses down, she gasps and pulls it away. “Oh, look at that…so fucking big, you can see it peeking through…”

The feeling of magic buzzes through you faintly as she pulls out and pushes back in. Agatha’s head falls back and her eyes close as you clench around her. “Fuck, your pussy feels so fucking good.”

Your arms strain against their restraints, desperate to get your hands on her as her hips speed up. The sound of skin slapping against skin reverberates around the room and she leans in close with her hand on your throat, squeezing lightly. You’re gasping into each other’s mouths, and just as you’re about to beg her to untie your hands, she reaches up and pulls the tail end of the ribbon.

Your hands claw at Agatha’s back, holding onto her tightly as you tremble beneath her. “Fuck, I want you to cum inside me,” you gasp. “Please!”

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she huffs following it with a breathy chuckle. “You want me to fuck you so good that you end up pregnant. How fucking amazing would that be? Knowing I did that. You’d look so fucking beautiful, baby.” Her thrusts grow messier as she continues and you’re beginning to teeter on the brink of bliss. “Carrying our child, everybody–even that slut downstairs–knowing you’re taken–that you’re mine.”

You let out a strangled gasp and your hand slaps over your mouth, only for her to remove it and lace her fingers with yours. “Don’t cover your mouth, baby,” she says. “I want to hear everything. So, tell me, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes!” you seethe, your teeth clenching as you look up at her desperately. “Fuck, yes, I would! Cum inside me! I want to carry your baby, and I want everyone to know who I belong to! I’m yours! I’m fucking yours, Agatha! I love you so fucking much!”

“Then let’s fucking do it,” she breathes. “Let’s have a baby and let everyone know who you belong to.” She can see you struggling to hold on, to hold off finishing before her. But she forces you to look at her, and with a crazed, heated look in her eyes, she says, “Cum. Now. Cum for me.”

“Fuck! Thank you, Mommy!” you sob, shaking violently underneath her as you start to finish. You can feel her throb inside you and as you just get over the peak of your orgasm, you feel the warmth of her own spread through you.

Agatha goes limp on top of you, a comforting weight as she presses soft kisses to your shoulder and neck. You’re both out of breath, but still, she kisses you on the lips tenderly and trails them from your cheeks to your ear.

“I love you,” she says softly. She sits up, pulling out slowly and removing the strap. After tossing it on the floor, she rests on top of you again, leaning on her elbow and supporting her head with her hand. “Thank you for a wonderful birthday,” she mutters, kissing you again. “But if that bitch ever touches you again, she’ll be a sacrifice at our next coven meeting.”

Agatha ends her threat with a boop to your nose, a smile, and then a kiss on your lips. You giggle into it, smiling against her lips, “Come on, let’s go take a bath.”

After helping each other out of bed, Agatha wraps her robe around herself and guides you to the bathroom with a hand on your back. As you prepare the bath, she cleans herself up and retrieves the towels, placing them on the towel warmer that you insisted your room have.

She comes up behind you and wraps her arms around your waist, lips brushing your ear. “I’m going to put some pants on and sneak downstairs to the kitchen to get us some wine and snacks. Would you like anything specific?”

“Oh, good,” you muse. “My drunken haze is starting to wear off, and I cannot have that.” You turn your head, giggling, “No, hon. It’s your birthday. Whatever you want is fine with me.”

“Well, technically it’s not my birthday anymore,” she mutters. “It’s almost three in the morning.”

“Go get the wine,” you say.

When she returns with the wine, two glasses, and crackers underneath her arm, she sighs. “Everyone’s gone and Gin Rummy lies abandoned on the coffee table.”

“Surprise, surprise,” you hum, taking the opened bottle from her hand and pouring yourself a glass. “Probably at Taco Bell. Now get in while it’s still hot.”

These are your favorite nights. The quiet ones. The ones spent in a hot bath and Agatha’s arms, with a glass of wine and snacks. Sure, you enjoyed the nights out and the parties, but these–when it's just the two of you–are your favorite.

You lean into Agatha’s touch, back against her chest as she wraps her arms around you. “Mm, don’t forget you owe me a hundred dollars.”

Her lips dip to the meeting place of your shoulder and neck, leaving soft kisses. “I think I just gave you something worth a lot more than a hundred dollars.”

You laugh at her response and turn partially in her arms to give her a proper kiss. “You’re right. Plenty of people would pay for that.”

She giggles into your neck, hands roaming your body in the water. Everything’s quiet and peaceful, perfect, but one question lingers in your mind.

“Agatha?” you say quietly.

“Hm?”

“Um…” You try to think of the phrasing, not trying to sound too eager. “Were you serious when you said ‘let’s have a baby’?”

You feel her arms tighten and lips press to your neck. Her voice is quiet, “Do you want me to be serious?”

“I–Well–We’re not even married.” You try to reason, but it’s not with her. It’s with yourself, and your voice is tight, “But…Maybe…?”

“Remember when we had that tea party with Morgan a few months ago?” Agatha asks, and you nod. “That whole time I couldn’t stop looking at you–that silly tiara and those clip-on earrings, every time you made her laugh, played along and talked to her stuffed animals…” She sighs, “I just couldn’t stop thinking about how good of a mother you would make.”

You turn your head and look at her, trying to keep your tears at bay. “Really?”

She kisses you softly. “Really. You know, up until that day, I didn’t think I could love you any more than I already did. But when you sat down at that pink table with her, and you put on that ridiculous tiara, I was proven very wrong.”

Her thumb wipes away a stray tear on your cheek as you sniffle, and she smiles softly when she says her next words, the arm around your waist tightening. “So, let’s get married, and we’ll see what the future has in store for us.”

#agatha all along #kathryn hahn #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #fanfiction #smut #agatha harkness smut #avenger agatha #the avengers #marvel mcu #mcu

486 notes · View notes

aklaustaleteller · 7 months ago

Note

hey can you do one where the reader kind off changed klaus for the better he quit most of the killing shit a ultimately became a better person over all, and the news was all over that klaus mikealson had gone soft, so one of his (many) enemies decides to kidnap or hurt the reader as they think he had gone soft and he goes all hybrid on everyone to remind them of what he is capable off

Vontade

Y/n and Klaus had settled in the English Countryside, living in an isolated mansion that was settled under thick mist on most days. But what happens when Klaus leaves for a little, and things take a sinister turn for Y/n?

Warnings - I'm not joking when I say I have a list (right here). I'm begging on you on my knees -- please read the list before diving into the fic!!

Word Count - 10.2k (don't ask me about it)

Masterlist | please reblog the fic if you like it!

EVERYONE CALM DOWN THE OCTOBER FIC IS FINALLY HERE!!! Wait let me calm down first. It's been so very long but I hope you guys will find the wait worth it!! This is the longest fic I've ever written, and probably the darkest too! The amount of research that went into this is mind boggling but anyways, I really really really hope you enjoy your time reading!! (the fic is divided into 2 parts, both of which are in this post itself!)

Thank you, anon, for requesting this and waiting so long! I might've taken a completely different route than what you asked for but I hope you won't mind too much <3

And I'm so sorry if I raised anyone's expectations too much!! If there one thing you should know about me, it's that I'm a disappointment. So expect the worst, thank you!

And please, please, please share your thoughts with me -- give feedback and reblog! It'll genuinely increase my life span ajshfjjakgds. (If you hate this fic, don't tell me I'm faint hearted, okay? okay.)

Holding the curtains to the side, Klaus gazed out of the window, the ghosts of the past not so visible anymore in the heavy mist that sat upon the empty acres of land that held nothing but dead grass as well as the dead, gone and buried.

It was so early in the morning that it felt like early winter, and the moon was still visible, looking so soft that its sight took all the weight of grief off the watcher's heart.

The collar of his cotton shirt ruffled as a gust of wind passed him by and touched the cold skin of his wife who lay in bed, gazing at him with the tired eyes that didn't catch a blink of sleep in the centuries that they have shown her the terrors and the romanticised of the world.

He smiled, already turning to walk over to her side of the bed. He knelt on the hardwood floor, ignoring it's creaking as he leaned in to press a kiss to her ear lobe, one that chased her mouth.

More of the wind rushed inside the room but neither of them paid much mind to it, for the cold didn't bother them much. Y/n kissed him back, giggling because it seemed that his mouth was eager to wander to places that might be more sinful than the true existence of their kind.

"When do you have to leave?" Y/n asked, breathless as Klaus intertwined his fingers with hers, and saddened because of the inevitable.

"In a few hours," Klaus suggested as he raised the skirt of her night gown while he himself slipped lower and lower until Y/n had to raise the sheets with her hand to look into his eyes as he bit into her thigh close enough to her heat to make her eyes to roll into the back of her skull.

Her palm traced the valleys of his face, feeling the highs and the lows to keep herself from transcending somewhere else while his mouth traced and lapped at her sweetness that was mentioned instead as poison in one of the books that she'd read in some of her earlier days.

"Klaus," she heaved his name as he quickened his pace, his eyes boring into hers, putting on a veil of innocence that they had lost even before they'd been first witness to the world.

Y/n believed that she'd lost her innocence the moment her mother had died while giving birth to her.

Air escaped her lungs all at once as she felt herself release and her hands clutched the unruly curls on the top of Klaus' head. Her hips lifted off the bed, meeting and escaping his mouth at the same time while a certain kind of dizziness took over her, making her feel like a leaf drifting slowly and slowly, off the tree, towards the earth.

Her mouth instinctively kissed back his lips, and she turned the two of them, so she was sitting on top of him. A grin took over her mouth, her eyes crinkling on the corners as she kissed up his chest and wandered off with her trail sideways.

Y/n inhaled softly and deeply upon his neck, sinking her cunning teeth into his hardened skin until she felt some warmth gush into her mouth. His blood coated her tongue like a thick syrup, sweet and addictive.

She sucked and more of it came flowing. In fact, so much of it came that she felt some slipping down the corners of her mouth. So, she backed away, licking the edges of her mouth with her head thrown back, letting the air fill her lungs and kick back in her senses.

The soft caress of Klaus' hand on the back of her head made her look down again, at his face that had her saying she knew what an angel looks like.

The black oblivion in his eyes that promised her a soulmate to spend the rest of eternity with sucked her in. Soon she was turning into corner after corner in a labyrinth, beginning to race in the fear that she was being chased until she found herself leaning against a wall while Klaus pulled on the laces of her corset, pulling hard enough to make Y/n suspicious that he just intended to pull her into him.

She looked into the mirror and caught a glimpse of his smirk, squinting at him when he met her gaze in their reflection.

"I really wish you could accompany me on the ride to the masquerade," she whispered, closing her eyes when she felt his fingers tap their way to the clasp of her necklace and lock it properly.

"I am your escort at the ball, love," he sighed, kissing the back of her head. "Have trust in me, you'll be fine," he murmured against her hair, smelling the faint scent of white Lilies and apples.

Far from the smell of the decaying bodies that he'd have to pass on his way to the city of New Orleans in a short while, though.

Y/n shut her eyes, wanting to protest that nothing when she's left behind, all on her own, stays fine. Instead, she gave a tight nod and turned to cup his face in her palms.

"Miss me," she grinned against the deep maroon of his lips, her laugh echoing when he kissed her passionately. And then she sighed, feeling the silage, her hand tracing the impression made in space where Klaus was once standing; now gone.

Sighing, she trailed down the stairs noiselessly -- it was an art she'd perfected during her time in the isolated estate.

She lit a lantern because despite it being daytime, not even a ray of light fell to the dead ground through the heavy fog that seemed to have settled on their property overnight.

Y/n shook her head, forcing herself to get out of her head and to fix the ragged rhythm of her breathing. While at that, she noticed a cobweb in the corner of the ceiling, instantly making a mental note to get Klaus to clean it up. She'd never felt an attachment to the spiders, though she respected their talent of weaving so masterfully and passionately.

Not enough to not ruin their work, though.

With faintly trembling hands, she picked the lantern off the dining table that could host an entire committee. She turned to walk back over to the main door, eyes settled on the minute details carved into the mansion's main door frame.

Forgetting the keys on the hook screwed to the wall, she looked closely, like she did every single day in the hopes of finding something new. Something tugged at the corner of her mouth when she caught a rose with a dagger stabbed through its middle, designed intricately into the door’s handle.

Smiling in satisfaction, she backed away and – the keys were gone. Y/n had seen them hung on the corner-most hook out the five, but now all of them were empty.

"The house spirits don't want you to leave," whispered her grandmother.

Y/n's head snapped to her side, the door was closed, the air still.

"Leave out some honey for them, perhaps, you can negotiate," she chuckled dryly, and Y/n scrambled to do as told before something more precious was taken from her; even though her grandmother has been dead for centuries and only talks to her when she's alone.

Almost dropping the plate in her hurry, Y/n slid the honey filled utensil in the middle of the table before rushing out of the door.

She exhaled sharply, almost choking on her own saliva as she raced away from the mansion, unable to calm herself down as the image of the keys hung on the hook right before she shut the door with her eyes widened in fear, flashed across her mind.

Klaus had only been away for a half an hour and already things were beginning to take a sinister turn. She took a shuddering breath, forcing her mind to focus on Klaus so that the stone inside her chest doesn't burst into a million tiny shards and she ends up dead because of a thousand cuts.

She brought up the lantern to her eyesight and sighed -- the flame had gone out somewhere amidst her rush.

But she had been in the woods before, she knew her way like the patterns in Klaus' hair. Smiling to manipulate herself, she strolled forward, eyes settled on the trees.

The acres of land on which the mansion stood like a ship on ocean waves, was tucked away under the thick fog when Y/n turned around to see it. But even in the dark blurriness, Y/n saw the tiny flowers dotted throughout the open fields. They were going to die soon, she sighed and walked on.

Then she began to run to catch a leaf that the wind plucked off of a tree.

Some dead, some changing colours, some still green while others had already transitioned into shades of orange or brown. All of the trees would all be lifeless soon, with no leaves or flowers on them, and Y/n will once again find comfort in the death that will encapsulate everything around her.

Maybe eat some of the pomegranates off the trees that will still be bearing some happiness in order to taunt her existence.

Far away in the distant, Y/n could see more huge estates. They seemed abandoned, worn, lived in by ghouls and frustrated spirits. She wondered if sprites and pixies ever giggled away nights in the unkempt properties, but she stole her gaze from the architectures before they could lure her in.

To spend her time alone feeling as normal as she could, she began to think of the love of her life, of Klaus and of how they came to be. And it began something like this...

It was the year 1047 in Russia, and the colour in Y/n's face had settled so deep that there was no life left in her skin.

She traced her cheeks, eyes widely aghast as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. There was nothing under her skin, except for an unsettling silence. There was no rush of blood, or thrumming of her anxious heart so loud in her ears that she felt like she was going to die, instead of smiling at the reminder that she was still alive.

She wished now though, that she had celebrated when her heartbeats came to stutters because she couldn't breathe. Because now, as she tried to find a pulse, she slipped her hand from her neck to the skirts of her gown.

There was nothing in her to prove that she wasn't a living corpse. Her skin was cold, hardened and ridden of all colours.

This couldn't have been. She wasn't a human anymore, and the more she saw of herself, the more rumours about Vampires echoed in her mind. If she was a vampire, then she quickly needed to find another one to survive. And she needed to flee town in order to escape her father, who would probably not even realise her absence in the misery of remembering her late mother.

So, with erratic breathing, she'd rushed back to her room and pulled out the one big handbag she had. She threw in as much as she could, including a large shawl, her night clothes, her warm woollen as well as her silk hood. She rolled two of her dresses somehow to fit, and ran to steal a bottle of her father's brandy and some camphor. He wouldn't know until he would run out of his current bottle, and Y/n won't be there to blame or to conspire with then.

Chanting under her breath for God's mercy, she ran into her bathroom and gathered all of her essentials such as tooth and nail brushes, soap, hairbrush, hairpins, her handy mirror and a towel off the hook.

Hungry because of her state of extreme breathlessness and panic, she packed some crackers and the sandwiches she had made earlier in her lunch and closed the chain of the bag. It was going to be hard to run with it on her arm, but she knew that what would be more hard was death.

She was going to be seen as the thing at the feast or at the sacrifice, and then, she wasn't even going to be seen because people would either burn her or bury her alive. And there was a possibility that she could take one wrong step, and the rumour that was a vampire's existence, would become more of a reality – which would lead to mass murder, of the hiding vampires and likely some innocents who had done no wrong in life but suffer at the hands of it.

She ran through the streets in the middle of the day, where everyone was too busy or too ignorant to be concerned about her. Her house was fairly close to the state of Kievan Rus' and she cried tears of joy for God's blessing as she ran, surprisingly not out of breath.

She ran with the wind throughout the day and night, as silently as she could, not wanting to draw any attention until she reached her destination. And it was on the third morning that she finally came to a stop on the land of Kyiv Koenugarr, the capital of the state that stood on the Dnieper River, the one that flowed to the Black Sea.

For the first time in three days, she smiled. Her breaths came to a faint pace as she stopped by in one of the guest houses to clean up. She knew that she needed to look good enough to convince the one person she had hoped in her heart would help her escape.

She didn't need to rest to get even a blink of sleep, but just out of old habit, she lay down on the soft bedding and shut her eyes to stop the racing of her mind. She could think when she wasn't so much on the edge regarding the fact that she didn't even feel burnt out after so much.

The corners of her eyes moistened as she realised that she wouldn't be missed back home. Maybe the little boy who lived next door would be saddened, but he would forget her too. He was too small to remember disappearance, Y/n hoped. She should have said goodbye to him at least, but maybe that was supposed to be her life's regret.

When the sun came back up, Y/n pulled out the one dress she had laid under the mattress during the night in hopes of getting it a bit decent and dressed herself. She put colour on her mouth and on her cheeks, and kohl on her eyelashes while hinting some of it on the line above.

She needed to look good for this, in case she had to do some convincing or begging. She hoped that she could just threaten, but she wouldn't do that to him who she essentially considered her brother.

She rubbed the one herbal mixture that she had on herself in some places and the fragrance of Saffron, Rosemary and Musk hit her senses all at once. Centering herself, she packed her bag again and began her stroll to find a cart, to where she knew he would be.

"I need to go to the docks!" She shouted over the harsh wind at the man, and he urged her to climb into the cart. "Thank you," she said now that she was behind him.

He nodded and began to move forward, going faster with the help of the forceful wind. It didn't seem like the man minded silence too much, so she kept quiet much to her liking and began an inner monologue to decide how she was going to ask him.

The time passed quicker than she could come to a conclusion though, so she stepped off and handed the man a kuna with a gentle nod for a thank you. She hoped she could find a mirror to maybe fix her hair a bit but she was found too soon for that convenience.

"And what in the world are you doing here?"

He asked, a frown and a smile adorning his features at the same time.

Happiness surged through her body like a gust of wind at seeing his face. It felt like he'd almost lifted her spirits.

"Nikolai!"

She rushed over to him, wrapping her arms around him as tightly as she could. She giggled when he began to swerve the two of them from side to side.

"You're clearly here for a reason so how about you tell me before I set off?" He said, nodding his head towards the awaiting ship.

A worry settled deep in her stomach. She began fidgeting.

"Will you take me with you?" She asked in a whisper because she knew how absurd this might sound to him.

He gripped her shoulders a little tighter.

"The ships are full of Vikings, Y/n. Don't be a fool," he gritted, his fingers leaving a wrinkle on the puff of her dress' sleave.

"But you are going to be with me, so I'll be fine!" She insisted.

Nikolai pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.

Sighing, he began, "why do you want to go to Europe all of a sudden?"

She swallowed. "To start over, you know? And it sounds nice over there, a change would be good," she shrugged.

Y/n knew that he could sense her lying but when he didn't press her about it, she took a breath of relief.

Nikolai turned to walk, but just because of her nature, she gripped his arm from behind.

When he turned with intrigue, and saw worry settled in her big eyes, he hugged her again.

"I'll take care of you like my little sister, Solnishko (sunshine)," he whispered against her hair, and Y/n shut her eyes to force herself calm down. She had known him since her childhood, and she knew deep down that she trusted him more than she trusted her own father.

Backing away a couple steps, she let him take her bag from her hand. Squaring her shoulders, Y/n nodded, which Nikolai copied.

They shared a glint of excitement and nervousness in their gazes and passed each other a wide grin before making a run for the ship that was going to leave any minute now.

Y/n hadn't realised that while deep in her memory, she had come to a halt in front of the frozen lake. So when she heard the crunch of leaves, while she stood alone and completely still, her head whipped to scan her surroundings.

No one, in sight. Y/n knew better than to not trust her intuition so she focused in on all of her senses, there was no smell of blood, no sound of a beating heart, no sight of anyone, no feeling other than of being watched and nothing to touch but her own cold skin.

It had to be a vampire, if anyone.

With an unease, she started on her walk back home. She knew she could face whoever it was and get it over within seconds. But when she reached home unharmed, she felt like she might've just been going insane since she was alone.

She felt insane a lot of the time that she was alone, so with frustration settling deep in her belly, she went over to the room that she had locked the entire oblivion in. The library room.

Most of the books were read there, but when Klaus returned from his entrepreneurial ventures, he always brought back with him some new ones that he just had an instinct she was going to love. And she did mostly end up loving the stories so much that it felt as if they’d claimed a part of her – she'd never tell that to Klaus though, since he might just destroy all literature in the mansion in order to keep her all to himself.

Her eyes glanced at the two stopped clocks in the room and she shook her head because of the reminder that they might as well be haunted since she can't get them to work right for more than two sunsets.

As she sank in the deep green sofa with a worn hardback in her lap, a deep melancholy took over her. Her body felt so weak to the bones that it could've decomposed right there on the expensive furniture.

Suddenly, her grandmother, dressed in all black appeared at the doorway of the room. Y/n thought she had closed the door behind her.

The old woman walked in like she was silently praying on a child in a game to catch her, and stopped right in front of Y/n whose eyes felt hooded and a little too heavy. She took her hand and dropped something from her fist into her open palm.

Y/n brought it back to see for herself, and a gurgling sound escaped from her throat. She choked back on her saliva as the word 'MONSTER' was beginning to slowly be engraved in her palm, the inscription cutting her skin so deep that she fell off the sofa in pain, gripping her hand tightly as she tried to escape, and ended up falling on her bed.

With heavy breaths wreaking havoc inside her lungs, Y/n wiped the cold sweat on her skin on the bed sheets as she turned to lie on Klaus' side of bed. Inhaling deeply, she kept her eyes shut while her entire body shook in tremors and her mind began to show her the flashes of her sweet, well cherished moments spent with her head tucked away in Klaus' chest.

She really wished she could have a drop of his blood, then. Saliva pooled on her tongue, but she swallowed thickly, not allowing herself even the thought of taking a sip from the bottle that he always left behind for her.

—--

It was the 18th century, and Y/n didn't know quite know how to feel when the Pope declared her species as fallacious fictions of humankind. She had sighed deeply, breathing out the tension in her frame as she prepared herself to live a life without chewing her fingers ever again – not because people had potentially known of Vampire's existence, but because she was too paranoid to not fear somehow getting wound up in the theories and be burned on the stake only for her ashes to be fed to some sick family man considered bitten by a vampire.

But she'd also felt her lifeless heart be struck by sadness upon the realisation that she might not ever be accepted by anyone apart from her own species -- who had the foul habit of keeping itself so secretive that Y/n began feeling lonely even in a room full of people.

Then the 19th century rolled around, arguably the worst time period for a human to be alive according to Y/n. She seemed to have a realisation that if this century was going to be associated with one thing, it would be diseases and deaths.

Everyone in the town was always sick and someone was dying each hour. The ones who weren't actively dying, were so obsessed with the notion of death they essentially manifested it in their fate.

Tired of the ongoing death streak, Y/n ran away to the English Countryside. But because she was too lonely and had too much of the torturous time on her hands, she began to despise the fact that she was never going to have the peace that came with death, with the end – ever.

Feeling like she was going to kill herself if she spent another fleeting second in her own company, she found herself back in the main city, preoccupying herself among the aristocrats.

Then years later, the last Vampire Scare occurred in the late 19th century. While people weren't quick to put labels, the town affairs spread in whispers sounding similar to the fluttering wings of a Goldfinch.

But then, when the horrors of Vampires finally bit the dust, being declared as nothing but a myth blew out the one final flicker of hope inside Y/n's chest that longed for connections where the humans would tell her about their history and their folklores themselves instead of her having to read their biassed books in which they painted a portrait using their best colours.

No matter how much she hated being a myth, Y/n loved reading stories about the blood-sucking Roman vampires, and the German Nachzehrer, who harmed the living through "sympathetic magic" from afar.

Y/n loved to debate with Klaus just like humans did with each other, upon who were the English Vampires most like -- The Romanians or The Germans. All because it seemed to be a hot topic among the historians, folklorists, theologists and who not, that like Romanians, New Englanders "were looking for liquid blood in the vital organs, not evidence of shroud chewing." The anti-vampire remedy of "cutting the heart out, burning it to ashes and feeding the ashes to the sick ones" was also something that was practiced in Romania.

But what quite disgusted Y/n was the fact that the sole reason humans even knew of Vampires was because they were brainless and attracted diseases like flowers honey bees during springtime; and also because they feared the said diseases and desired to have control over it in some way, or at least to feel like they did.

Since then, whenever a new resurgence of ‘Vampires are real’ rumours flowed, Y/n chose to ignore it. Because in the current day and age, the resurfacing of the supernatural was simply because of its glorification and romanticisation in the literature; and of course, just an human’s itch to dig into the past.

—--

The music echoed throughout the mansion as Y/n's fingers danced across the keys of the grand piano. There weren't any notes sitting on top for Y/n to read from, she was simply playing what she'd known and what was coming to her as she played.

Moonlight poured in through barred windows that stood on the grounds and touched the ceilings. Something in the back of her mind was telling her that someone was watching her, but she ignored the warning sign, tired of her hallucinations and tired of trying to decipher between what was real and what wasn't.

Her own mind playing tricks on her wasn't something she dealt with very well. It felt like a betrayal, by whom, she couldn't tell. But it was unfair, that not everyone had to constantly decipher their experiences as real or not.

In the moment, all she knew was that as long as the music was flowing and she was hitting the notes remarkably well, she and everything surrounding her was real. Though she'd been told that her playing could bring the dead back, she tried not to think about it.

Frustrated because of the nagging thought of having a watcher, Y/n wondered if the pressing of her fingers on the keys will ever not be soothing for her. Gradually, she felt something rushing within her, something taking over her senses as the sounds hit the tall walls and reverberated back into her ears with violent vibrations that she hated to feel – she felt overcome.

Her fingers started to move on their own, quickening the pace when she reached the beat drop and realised, the answer was yes.

She pulled herself back from the grand piano like it had electrocuted her. Wild eyes and frantic breathing, Y/n waited for the silence to settle and encapsulate her.

Standing up, she took hold of the candelabra that had been sitting on the top of the piano, and climbed up the stairs in the candle's unreliable, flickering light. There was no light in this part of the mansion, the moonlight didn't reach in the back and Y/n felt a breath down her spine as she opened the library room's door.

She didn't walk in right away though. She spared a wry glance to her right, at the other room’s door that was locked. It was night time and she didn't want to be flooded with the horrifying memories of her past that was withheld in that room. But still, the images of Klaus draining bodies in that very room flashed in front of her eyes – causing her to clench them shut and skip inside the library without a second thought.

Picking up the book she'd dropped on the floor earlier, she shut the door quietly and held the skirts of her dress in order to make a run towards the master bedroom. She felt safe in the company of the candle's flame that hadn't gone out in her hurry and she sat in her bed, no longer scared and no longer around; transported into a realm where she was a little human girl skidding through the forest wearing a red cloak, on the way to her grandmother's home when she comes across a sly wolf!

—--

Y/n was standing just outside the door, hiding behind the wall with a cloth to her mouth. Sobs threatened to leave her mouth similarly to how the tears were escaping her eyes, sliding down her cheeks and falling into pools on the ancient flooring.

Sounds of mouths biting into necks, tearing through skin and splintering bones echoed through the chambers. The halls of the mansion were built like those of Cathedrals, tall in order to make a sound boom and echo.

She clenched her eyes shut when another body fell to the ground, lifeless. Daring to peek inside despite her fragile heart, Y/n's mouth fell open as the scene unfolded in front of her.

Klaus was sitting on the one and only chair in the room, looking nothing less than a king sitting on his throne. In front of him, the rest of the hall was full of vampires – sucking on each other.

Some had bitten into another's wrist while they were being fed upon at their neck. Every single soulless body standing in the room had its teeth bared, looking for a life to take whilst theirs was already being drained away by one of their own.

"Faster!" Klaus roared and everyone began to draw blood from one another as if their life depended on it.

Which it did according to what Y/n heard next.

"Remember puppies, if you wish to live, you'll have to drain as many bodies as you can!" He spoke loudly, a wide malicious grin on his mouth.

Y/n sank low upon the grounds, frozen until her eyes met with one of the vampires.

A blood-curdling scream escaped her throat and Y/n felt like all of the blood was rushing to her head. She clutched it, lowering further into the ground in hopes of diminishing the pain but her vision began to fade instead.

She saw Klaus watching her, held for ransom by fate as Y/n fell to the ground, her last sight being of the vampires still feeding like they were at a feast.

When she woke up, Klaus was sitting at the foot of the bed. A book in his hands but not a word was he able to utter when she asked him what the book was about.

He shut it and tossed it across the bed, holding the bridge of his nose as Y/n looked at him through hooded eyes.

"I asked you of one thing," he began. "I asked you not to walk by the room until dusk."

His teeth were clenched, and Y/n could tell by the waver in his voice that he was trying with all of his might to not smash the furniture in the room.

She hoped that he would keep trying, that she wouldn't have to see the black in his eyes represent the devil rather than the peaceful oblivion she saw in them because she wanted to spend it with him.

"Then why, tell me love, were you there?"

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child," Y/n croaked out, stealing her gaze from him to look away.

"But what you did was childish!"

"And you were a monster!" Y/n shouted, now sitting up in the bed with her fists clenching the mattress.

Klaus stood still for a moment, then scoffed.

"I'm the monster?" He asked, his voice so light it sent a wave of regret through Y/n's chest.

"Klaus --"

"No, Y/n," Klaus swallowed, now pacing across the room. "They tried to steal you from me and I'm the one being called the monster for doing to them little of what they deserve for the horror they put you through."

"Klaus, you didn't need to take the blood on your hands. I would've taken my revenge, and you know that," Y/n said.

"Alright then. Fair enough," nodding, Klaus came to a halt. "Let's put it this way – I took my revenge because I love you and I thought I lost you. That thought pained me to the point of no comparison so I took my revenge," he shrugged.

"If you desire, you can take your revenge. I'm sure they are still alive with the speed that they seemed to have lost," Klaus gestured back towards the room.

Y/n clenched her eyes shut. "Lock the room, Klaus," she asked him.

With a faint nod of acceptance, Klaus locked the door to the room where most of the vampires had fallen to the floor, dead. The last ones sucking raced when they saw Klaus and fell to the floor with a thump once the last drop of blood was drunk from their bodies.

Drawing the doors shut, Klaus put a humongous lock on the door and took a step back. He knew what Y/n was going to ask of him when he 'd return, so with a final breath, Klaus decided that among those vampires, Klaus had also locked his own demons inside.

Y/n's head rose when she saw him stroll back into the master bedroom.

"Promise me that you'll never take a life ever again," she whispered.

Klaus nodded, looking into her eyes with honesty so bright it could've blinded her.

"And if you do, do it after you take mine," Y/n spoke stiffly. "Or I'll take yours."

Klaus dropped to his knees beside her side of the bed to hold her hand.

"You have my word," he spoke hoarsely, leaning in just enough that Y/n had to come the rest of the way to meet his mouth.

"I love you," she whispered against his mouth. "I cannot lose you to your demons."

"I love you, too,” Klaus said, stopping when his voice wavered. “And you know that you are my only reason," he smiled, letting her push him back on the bed.

—--

Y/n woke up with excitement fluttering through her entire being. It was brighter than the previous day, she noticed. But all of the mist was still sitting around so Y/n drew her curtains apart and opened the windows.

The cold wind carried with it the smell of pomegranate flowers, making Y/n smile.

Squaring her shoulders, she looked into the void outside, wishing Klaus was beside her to experience the beauty of dragonflies dancing around on top of the flowers sprinkled throughout the fields.

Orange and red scenery was not unmet by her eyes when she squinted. A lot of the trees had turned now, and Y/n wondered why they decided to turn just a little earlier than usual.

She wrapped herself in her robe and walked throughout the house, opening all the windows and drawing curtains to let the light pour in. She felt calm, especially since the past couple of days had been extraordinarily troublesome for her.

Back in her library room, Y/n picked up the neat letter that had been sitting on her desk. It was the letter of the ball invitation sent via the Salvatore Sons, and Y/n was more than giddy to finally meet Klaus there.

Most humble citizens of the realm, You are hereby requested to attend a masquerade ball in honour of the thirtieth marriage anniversary of our dearest Lilian Salvatore and Guiseppe Salvatore, the radiant couple -- also respected members of the founder's council of Mystic Falls. Costumes and masks will be strictly required for entry, and each couple must bring a gift. This sophisticated affair will be a tantalising and stylish celebration with a feast, dancing and competitions. You all will delight in the wondrous, safe atmosphere of Castle Harrowgate. The gates of Castle Harrowgate shall be opened at first dusk in two days' time, and you are expected to be punctual. Dictated but not read Damon and Stefan Salvatore.

While Y/n wasn't one for gatherings, she could appreciate a ball every once in a while. She felt a bit of dread pooling inside of her at the thought of meeting the Salvatores, who had known of her and Klaus while she hadn't known of their mere existence.

Still, she walked across the mansion and picked some flowers the whole morning. In the afternoon, she wrote a poem and read some chapters of her current read that was of her beloved genre, gothic horror.

Once the sun had begun getting tired, though, Y/n slipped into her room and sat in front of her vanity. It still felt a little foreign to her, she wouldn't lie. That doesn't mean she didn't find it infinitely convenient.

She applied rose water on her face first and then rubbed some cream on the skin in order to make her skin look just a little more alive than a corpse's. It brought a certain shine to her face, she thought.

Then she dabbed some light coloured starch on her face in order to even out her complexion, though she didn't quite need to. She was simply following a makeup routine she had learnt from a lady while she had been out in the towns a few months ago, when the sun was overhead and blinding.

She smiled a little tightly as she put some maroon powder on the top of her cheeks, making her look like she had a heart and blood circulation under her skin. Smiling genuinely at her reflection in the mirror, she looked away just before she could begin to point out her flaws.

Lastly, she dabbed some lip tint on her mouth in a way that made her lips look bitten rather than painted.

Tying her own corset for her dress was troublesome enough that she had broken a sweat whilst she'd been at it. Patting cotton all over her face in annoyance, she fixed the ruffles of her dress for the last time.

The colour of the dress was similar to that of the darkest emerald out there, and upon it were drawn complex patterns in all shades of green that went best with the gown's colour.

She had her hair in a low bun sitting on the nape of her neck, the lowest of her hair strands falling out into coils just a couple inches lower. A flowery crown sat on top of her bun like a crown made out of golden oak leaves, the crystals reflecting the sunlight all over the room.

Anxious that she was likely forgetting something, she took hold of her purse and carried in her other hand the gift she had chosen to give – a thick and rich blanket, along with other trinklets and fruits and nuts. She'd also added a tobacco pouch or two in there.

She rushed out of the mansion and sped to the main street, where she accepted herself in a carriage. Once she was sat, she took a deep breath.

Although gradually she realised that the cold sweat she'd broken earlier wasn't because she had been racing around.

It was because subconsciously, she felt like there was a stone sitting inside her chest, one other than her heart. It was heavy, and sharp too. Something was going to go wrong, her guts screamed. She had an instinct that she was going to die that evening, but she ignored all and focused on the dying scenery around her as the carriage raced further.

It was a masquerade ball, surely she'd be able to fool death if it happened to be there as well.

When the carriage turned into a lane, and Y/n saw the mansion; a shiver ran down her spine. It was eerily quiet there, no one in sight and no sounds of a gathering filling the atmosphere.

The castle’s walls stood tall, with tinted windows. It looked like a secretive fortress, with its additional dark towers and iron gates.The sun light didn’t reach the estate very well, and it was all shades of dark – with not even a barren tree in its circumference.

Had she come too early, she wondered and checked her pocket watch. She was just a few minutes late, actually. Maybe people weren't so punctual anymore, she shouted back at her alarmed instincts.

She looked up at the sky which was darkening as the sun was setting. But it was full of heavy clouds drifting slowly, waiting for the right time to bring hell on land.

In the time that she came face to face with the castle, she tried to focus on her hearing. But she couldn't hear any heartbeats, nor any quietened gossip floating around. It was more silent than Y/n had noticed it was underwater during the summer.

Clutching her shawl in clenched fists, she stepped off the carriage. Handing the man a couple pennies and thanking him, she waited as he backed away until out of the sight.

Then she finally turned her gaze onto the Castle Harrowgate, and as she began to feel like it was all a trap, she realised that might as well already be in one.

Klaus had told her that he would meet her by the time the ball would start, to accompany her for the dance since he couldn't imagine sharing with another man the pleasure of dancing with his wife. And upon checking the watch once again, Y/n remembered that the gates must have been opened about half an hour ago.

So, to see no footprints outside the muddy path covered with cobblestones stood out to her. She squinted her eyes, unsure if she'd be able to make a run for it now.

Y/n was better than that though, she could fight an army of vampires if she wanted to with her original strength. But to be wearing a gown and heels, with a gift bag in one hand and a purse in the other, Y/n wasn't sure if she wanted to get blood sprayed all over herself.

Sensing eyes on her, she searched the windows to see even a shadow. But there was none. It was the same feeling as the one she'd gotten when she'd been in the forest a couple days prior, feeling like she was being preyed upon.

She gulped dryly, praying to a god she didn't believe existed that the cowards behind this plan would be willing to talk this through. She didn't wish to be anyone's death, nor did she wish to die herself. She did, occasionally, but now as she felt like death was breathing down her neck, she felt like taking another sip of life before going to bed.

As she walked further and crossed the threshold of the castle, she felt wind move behind her before she could've seen past the open gates.

She screamed but a hand was covering her mouth and as she tried to remind herself that she was a vampire and didn't need to be frightened, her vision began to fade inwards until she could see nothing but the death's cousin – that is sleep.

When she gained back her senses again, she knew that she was in a lot of trouble. She still couldn't see, but she could smell the vampires who had probably noticed her consciousness by now. She could hear them bickering that had come to a sudden halt. She could feel someone standing right beside her in a second and she could touch the chains that she'd been tied up with.

It was raining heavily outside, probably so angrily that it would feel like there were millions of needles being dropped on your skin, all at once, if one happened to be out in it.

Her arms were stinging since they'd been tied up on the two sides. She was on her knees, bent over because of weakness. At least she hoped that's what they thought she felt. Her hair was falling on her face and over her shoulder – how had it slipped out of a tight bun, she wondered and came to the conclusion that it must have happened when she'd struggled against the man's chest while he'd had her in a chokehold with vervain held right over her nose.

Had she been in his place, she'd have burned the skin off the captive's face. She smiled at the kindness these people had shown her.

"Glad you'll finally be put out of the misery of living your immortal life?" Someone spoke from across the room, a man. Likely middle aged, she assumed.

"Glad to finally meet you, Guiseppe," Y/n smirked when the man's breathing stuttered just a bit. "Though I wish it hadn't been this way."

"A lovely mouth you've got with a lovely face," said a younger voice. "Too bad that all the fortune would go to waste."

Y/n chuckled, then choked because of the dryness in her throat. "Mark my words when I say that this will be the very mouth that'll rip your throat out, Salvatore" she shrugged, unsure whether it was Stefan or Damon that she was talking to.

"C'mon, you can't possibly be delusional enough to hope you're going to get out of this one!" Said the same voice, quietened by a clearing of the throat.

The window shutters were rattling, and a couple of animals were howling outside.

"Damon, bring a chair for me, will you?" Said Guiseppe.

Y/n laughed at that; her head was thrown back. "Since when do you care so much that your child might witness a murder?"

"Oh, trust me hon, death doesn't even bother me no more," Damon joked and Y/n grinned. It would be a petty to shut that humourous mouth forever six feet deep into the ground.

"Damon, go," said a handsome voice.

It was silent for a moment and all of Y/n's senses were working relentlessly. But the most she could hear was the ongoing storm outside, thunder rolling like death was on its own carriage, coming down to take Y/n with it.

The thought of whether she had served her purpose in her life was fleeting. But then she began to ponder, if only humans were allowed to deal with existentialism, and whether it was satirical for her to even be thinking that she might just have a meaning to her life.

But then she drifted off to think of her immortality. All her life, she'd never dared to ponder over it – afraid she might begin to have the urge to kill herself. Had she made anything out of having a life that'd never end?

Did she need to do that? Did she really need a reason or a purpose to live? Or since being an immortal, she had to pay the loan by giving this world her all?

But before she could start to lose her mind, she was snapped back to reality.

“I only saw you from the back, in the forest and from outside your mansion,” said the same handsome voice before he chuckled. Y/n’s breathing came to halt – she had been right.

“But sweetheart, you seem like the devil carved you himself – so dangerously beautiful,” he whispered under his breath.

When Y/n didn’t say anything, wanting for him to continue admitting all that he’d done, the young one laughed.

"We aren't going to kill you, by the way,” said he who Y/n was beginning to assume was Stefan.

"Too bad that I will, once I'm out of these shackles."

Y/n genuinely was disappointed. She wanted to cry because she hadn't even thought about this possibly being a trap, and she hated herself for it. And she also hated the fact that these people found it so entertaining, the way they'd played her.

Feeling pathetic, she manipulated herself to turn her sadness into ferocious rage. She couldn't let these men take advantage of her.

Someone laughed, and Y/n smiled. She wanted them to believe that she couldn't help herself out of the chains.

"We just want Klaus," Damon said as if he was bored out of his wits. "You see, he loves you. Surely, he'll trace you here. Then we'll capture him, toy with him, kill him and ponder what to do with your beauty."

Y/n wasn't feeling too sarcastic anymore. She wanted to skin these men alive and hang them upside down to be eaten alive by the crows. But she contained herself with a deep breath.

"You've seen so much of my beauty, it'll only be fair if I got to see yours," she proposed and waited in silence as someone walked over and removed the blindfold from her face.

Squinting, she saw Guiseppe, who looked like he wanted to kill himself. Then she saw Damon, who looked exactly like he talked and Stefan, who was as handsome as his smooth voice.

"Handsome, you two," she nodded at the younger men. "Surely you've got your looks from your stunning mother," she added.

Damon snickered and Stefan glared at him.

"You know, since Klaus met you, his heart has clearly grown quite faint. And we have been sitting, bored, for too long now. It would be nice to have somethings stirred up, yea?"

Y/n shivered as the dark room lit up when lightning stroked the sky.

"Oh, you don't play games with the wily devil," she cautioned, lowering her voice just to exaggerate although everyone in the room was on edge, knowing she'd spoken nothing if not the utter truth.

"Too late to back out now, though," a glowering voice came from right outside the locked doors of what Y/n could only assume was a dungeon or a chamber of some sort.

She grinned, quickly scanning the three men's faces to relish in their fear. Damon's sharp eyes were now wide open, waiting for his death to come any second now. Stefan was standing in a stance, ready to fight although he knew he didn't stand a chance.

And Guiseppe had broken cold sweat, his breathing was so heavy Y/n almost missed the erratic beating of his heart.

Klaus was here, she could imagine him standing behind the door solely for the suspense, fully capable of breaking down the door into shambles.

He kicked once, and the doors came falling inwards, Damon stepping back just in time for the wood to splinter on the floor in front of him.

When Y/n's eyes met with Klaus', she urged him to turn around. But then she flinched when Klaus missed her indication and was hit by a vase on the nape of his neck.

He fell to the ground. crouching for only a second before he'd disappeared.

The three men searched frantically, turning and twisting in distress.

Y/n saw him racing towards her and she opened her arms, letting him carry her. He situated her on the floor above, behind the railings.

“Are you alright?” He asked frantically, searching her over for any signs of injuries. But Y/n cupped his face and kissed him, reassuring him that she wasn’t wounded.

"Don't look," he asked of her earnestly, knowing the effect it could potentially have on her later on. "For me," he breathed.

Y/n pecked his mouth, then. Resting her lips on his until there was only Klaus' scent in front of her instead of him. She stumbled back and slid down a wall, sitting down and burrowing her head in her knees.

"Prepare your riffles!" Guiseppe shouted at the group of men filling the room urgently.

Guns were cocked and sat on men's shoulders, their fingers on the triggers, ready to shoot to kill.

"Where's --" Albert was cut off by a gust of air, during which he disappeared. He was one of the men, the most determined of them all and still the one with the most thirst for life.

Damon turned and saw for himself the chains to which he had tied Y/n, now lying on the grounds, wrapped around Albert's throat. His eyes were wide open, not a sparkle of life left in them.

Swallowing, Damon knocked his elbow into Stefan's ribs. When he hissed in response, Damon shut him up by pointing towards the dead body.

Both of the boys were now looking towards their father with the same hatred they glared at him with every day. He was going to be the reason behind their deaths. They thought of fleeing at the same point, unaware of each other's notions but both were too full of pride to die a coward.

They knew that if they ran, they had a higher chance of dying.

It was silent again, the only sounds in the room being rapidly beating hearts being interrupted by the rolling thunder outside.

Someone pulled the trigger, and when everyone saw, the bullet had passed through the middle of his own forehead. It was Frank, the one who had come to fight quite reluctantly.

Many men were thinking of fleeing now.

"You didn't tell us that the vampires could do this!" Bert gritted near Guiseppe's ear. He was now hopeless for he was never going to get to take walks near his favourite lake ever again.

"You'll be more responsible for our deaths than these goddamn monsters," shouted young James from across the room. He has just gotten married and wanted to have children, raise them up to be as strong as their mother.

Guiseppe was getting more and more frantic now, he could see his death waiting around the corner for him. The sweat rolling down his back was too cold, and his heart felt like it was going to burst inside of his chest.

Nothing was going how he had planned it.

James also disappeared then, and upon noise, everyone saw that his body was hanging off the humongous chandelier, the blood from the open wound on his neck dripping down on men's faces and on the floor. The sound of the blood pooling was ringing in everyone's ears and they all moved out of the way quickly, wiping off the blood on them with the cuffs of their shirts.

Metallic scent of the blood was beginning to suffocate everyone. Choking sounds were heard before William was thrown to a wall, also dead. He was a master at playing cards.

"Run everyone and set the room on fire!" Shouted Bert, but then his head was smashed off his shoulders and his body was swaying around, before it fell to the ground, writhing a little more before going still.

Now only Damon, Stefan and Guiseppe were left alive in the room. The two younger ones looked at each of the lifeless bodies, then at each other.

"God, I want to kill you two before they get a chance!" Guiseppe roared and bent to steal the gun from Bert's hands.,

But before he could pull the trigger, his head was pulled back and a knife sliced his throat.

The two boys howled in agony and covered their faces when Guiseppe's blood sprayed all over them.

When nothing more happened, they opened their eyes and saw Y/n still holding onto their father, the knife still in her bloodied hands.

Dropping the body then, Y/n looked at them regretfully.

She had to come out since Klaus had to take a second to keep his wolf at bay and the old twat was going to shoot his sons. She didn't mind witnessing the three men's deaths at all though. Surely, they must've prepared themselves for it when they'd been planning the entire betrayal.

"Sorry you had to see that," she muttered, stealing her gaze from their horrified ones. Or maybe from Klaus' eyes that shone golden from where he was standing right behind their backs.

She knew the two brothers' fates before they could've even battled whether to try and negotiate a deal or not.

One of the chains which she had been tied to earlier, was wrapped around Klaus' fist.

In the blink of her eyes, both of the brothers had begun choking. The same chain wrapped around their throats; their backs pressed together. If one tried to pull the chain away from their neck, the other brother would choke to death.

Damon was coughing out his spare breaths, panic widening his eyes so much that Y/n feared they might pop out of their sockets. His mouth was beginning to lose colour just like his skin. Still, there was the beg for another chance reddening his eyes, but Y/n switched her gaze onto Stefan.

He was wheezing heavily, his throat making loud creaky noises that Y/n, unfortunately, could recognise anywhere, at any time. He was dying faster than Damon, and his eyes were set on hers when they stopped moving.

As his body began to fall forward, the chain around Damon's neck tightened so tightly that his tongue protruded out of his mouth, eyes staring into the void, lifeless.

Y/n took a shuddering breath, then looked at Klaus.

"I'm sorry you had to do this," she whispered, crossing over the two dead bodies to cup his face.

It had been hard to have him feel solace with his existence without having the urge to kill. Almost like trying to get him clean off of a drug addiction.

This had been a relapse, then. And Y/n's stone-cold heart was trembling inside her chest in fear of losing him to the coping addiction again.

But then the golden rim of an eclipse melted like honey into the moss of his eyes, and they crinkled at the corners. He leaned in and rested his forehead on hers.

"This did not happen because of you, remember that," he whispered. "I needed to do this, or I wouldn't have been able to live with myself."

Y/n nodded solemnly. A tear rolled down her cheek.

"I love you," she sobbed, her body shaking as she pushed herself further into Klaus' chest, wanting to hide away from all that was surrounding her. "You are the remedy of all things."

"Always and forever, my love," Klaus smiled, wrapping his arms around her.

"Let's go home," he muttered into her hair and bent down to pick her up like he had on their wedding day.

"No carriages, since the driver will surely take us to the authorities upon seeing us doused in blood and have not a single wound at the same time," he grinned, laughing when she hit his chest.

"I was really excited for this ball," Y/n sighed. "I wish it didn't have to be this way."

"Me too, love," Klaus said, preparing to race through the small town along with the clear wind.

"But it was evanescent, wasn't it? This rage, this murderous urge – it was fleeting?" Y/n asked nervously, hopefully.

Klaus nodded faintly. "I'm offended you'd think I have such low control," he teased, and Y/n breathed a sigh of relief. “My love, this thirst has gone as quickly as it’d come,” he reassured her.

"Didn't want to kill again but I'm guessing it was for the better, since no one would dare to forget about what the hybrid is capable of for a long time now," smirking, Klaus looked around at the mess he'd made.

“Now let’s go back home,” he smiled and Y/n’s eyes watered as she nodded.

When Klaus had suspected foul play, he'd felt vontade; a strong desire to do something. So powerful had been his inner drive to remind everyone of his terror that he couldn't have helped himself. The thought of losing Y/n had been petrifying enough.

So, he kicked someone's decapitated head out of his way and strolled outside, already annoyed upon the realisation that in the morning, he’d have to hear about the harrowing news of the horrors found inside the Castle Harrowgate.

526 notes · View notes

guiltyasdave · 1 year ago

Text

sun is going down

chapter 1 • series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: An injured Joel and Ellie stumble into your home in the middle of the night. Against your better judgement, you decide to help them.

word count: ~2.2k

tags/warnings: post outbreak, slow burn, found family, age gap (sorry not sorry), able-bodied reader, angst, reader has a sad sad backstory and ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, vague description of an injury, blood, guns, i think that’s it?

a/n: i’m ridiculously nervous about sharing this story, it has been on my mind for over a year and i’ve been too intimidated to start working on it for the longest time. i really hope that someone likes it haha

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers as always by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

The alarm goes off in the middle of the night. You shoot up, your body on high alert, your heart beating rapidly, before your mind is even fully awake.

Probably just a false one, you try telling yourself as you make your way to the office. You’ve never had a false alarm, but– one can hope, right?

The place is plunged into darkness, no windows for any moonlight to seep through. You turn on the camera feed, squinting at the grainy screen. There’s movement in the living room, two people, from what you can make out. Not infected, judging from the way they’re moving, but one of them seems to be injured. Please don’t be raiders. There isn’t much to loot in the house, but the anxiety is already settling in your chest, threatening to crawl up your throat.

You turn on the sound and a panicked girl’s voice rings through the room as if you were standing right next to her.

“Fuck, Joel, wake up. Joel, please–”

It’s eerily similar to words that you’ve said once, the memory still fresh, even now. You wonder if your voice was as thick with tears then as that girl’s is right now.

Not again. Not in this house, not while you’re watching, unable to do anything. Not again.

You still hear it, the echo in your mind clear as ever. Keep them safe. Promise me. The promise you failed to keep.

Unblinking, you stare at the screen, your mind running a mile a minute. This could be a trap. They could have been watching, could have somehow figured you out. Or, the tiny voice in the back of your head insists, or they really need help.

The girl is pleading for the man to hold on, to not fall asleep. The desperation in her tone is tearing at you, urging you into action. Fuck it, you have to do something.

You grab your gun from the wall and slowly make your way up the stairs, ignoring the anxious trembling in your hands. Maybe this is how you die.

Leaning your back against the wall, you take a deep breath, a fruitless attempt to calm yourself, and switch on the lamp outside. You can’t hear them anymore, but knowing that the living room is now bathed in light, you’re certain that they’re on high alert now. Shit shit shit. You steel yourself, undo the complicated lock and push the heavy door open.

Please don’t let it be a trap.

They’re both staring at you, a young girl standing in front of a man, lying on the ground, taking panting breaths. She’s pointing a gun straight at you, as if she’s trying to shield his larger body with hers. The weapon looks much too big in her hands.

The memory of a similar image tugs at the back of your mind, but you shove it away. Stay in the present, stay right here.

You clear your throat, raising your hands slightly. You don’t remember the last time you spoke to another living person. Your voice cracks.

“I– I don’t mean you any harm. I live here, I saw you on– on the cameras.”

The girl furrows her brow, her eyes flitting across the room.

“They’re hidden, you won’t– Listen, I just want to help, I promise.”

The sound of your voice wavers, almost unfamiliar to your own ears. The girl lowers her gun a fraction, but the distrust is written all over her face. You can’t blame her. You clear your throat again, willing your hands to stop shaking.

“Your dad, is he– has he been bitten?” Please say no, please say no, please say no.

She shakes her head quickly. An expression that you can’t place flies over her features. Thank god.

“He’s not my– no. He got– he got stabbed.”

You can tell that she tries to sound strong, brave, but you recognize the panic in her eyes. You see it often enough when you look into the mirror.

You take another steadying breath. You can do this.

“Okay. I can help with that, if– if you want. I have medicine, bandages…”

Hope flashes over her face, mixed with the obvious conflict of not trusting you.

“You can come downstairs, it’s safer there. I– I should turn the lights back off.”

You’re painfully aware of how bright the house must shine through the darkness, from how far away it’s probably visible right now. Your nerves are fluttering anxiously.

“I don’t mean to hurt you, I swear. Just– let me help you.”

She swallows, hard, and fixes you with a stare.

“It’s just you down there?”

You nod in silent confirmation, not trusting your voice on this. It’s the first time you’ve ever had to admit it to anyone but yourself.

The girl sighs, her head turning between you and the man behind her a few times, surely seeking guidance from him, but his eyes are halfway shut, his lips trembling. Your gaze falls on the dark red stain on his shirt.

Don’t look, don’t think- Just focus on this, right now, right here.

You tell her your name, promise again that it’s safe. Finally, she nods timidly.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” You nod back at her, give her a small smile that she doesn’t return. “I’ll come closer now, we’ll carry him, alright?”

The girl looks at the man again. Her body tenses when you near them, but together you manage to get him back on his feet and half walk, half carry him. You push the door open wider and heave him down the stairs.

In the back of your mind, you take note of the sound of multiple feet walking down the steps, and how long it’s been since… No. Stay in the present.

You prop him up on the couch, where the girl keeps hovering by his side while you rush up again to close and lock the door and turn off the lights. Next, you throw open the bathroom cabinet, gathering all the material that you might need.

You return and crouch down beside him, lying your things out on the table, and take a closer look, your fingers halting over him. He’s watching you through lidded eyes, a sheen of sweat on his pale face.

“What’s his name?” you ask, looking up at the girl.

“Joel,” she answers reluctantly. “I’m Ellie.”

“Hi, Ellie.” You hope your smile looks sincere, not betraying how nervous you are right now. How shaky the sight of his blood-soaked shirt makes you feel.

“Okay, Joel?” you address him directly. He only manages a tired hum in return. “I’m gonna clean this and try stitching you up. It’s gonna hurt, I have painkillers, if you–”

But he shakes his head, humming again.

“Alright,” you sigh, and get to work.

You explain what you’re doing with every step, to calm both their and your own nerves. You know how to do this, you’ve trained for this. The wound doesn’t look too deep and you pray that there’s no organ damage involved, because you don’t have the means to treat that properly, but it doesn’t look like it. There seems to be an infection spreading though, so you gather some antibiotics as well, hoping that they’ll still work the way they’re supposed to. Joel inhales sharply a few times, but seems to be out of it for most of the time, which you’re grateful for.

“How did this happen?” you ask, looking up at Ellie who’s still standing beside you, watching intently over what you’re doing.

“Raiders,” she mutters. “It was a broken baseball bat, I think.”

“Jesus,” you sigh. You wonder how they got out, your thoughts circling back to the gun in her hands, and you suppress a shudder. “Are you injured too?” you ask, deciding not to press her about the attack.

“No,” comes her quiet answer. You don’t catch the way she averts her eyes.

“Alright,” mumble eventually and straighten up. You’ve cleaned and bandaged the wound to the best of your ability and now you just have to hope that it will be enough.

“Do you want something to eat?” you ask the girl, who has taken to sit beside the couch on the ground, now that you’ve moved away from it. Her face lights up at the question and she nods eagerly.

You get two bowls of the soup that you’ve had for dinner for the both of you and she has already had a few spoonfuls before she eyes you warily.

“It’s not poisoned or something, is it?”

You huff a laugh and keep eating yours, holding her gaze with raised eyebrows. “Does it look like it?”

“Um, no…” she trails off, swallowing another spoonful and sighing at the taste. You wonder how long it’s been since they ate something. “You could have poisoned only mine though.”

“Well I didn’t,” you grin. It feels foreign, talking to another person, another child, but a warmth is slowly spreading through you that has nothing to do with the soup.

She wakes Joel and gets him to swallow a little soup as well as some water before he collapses back on the couch, his eyes closed and his breath evening out.

“Why do you… have all this?” she asks eventually, setting her bowl down on the table and looking around the room, the wood-covered walls and the multiple doors.

“My dad built it,” you reply, forcing your voice to stay neutral. “B–before.”

She hums in acknowledgement, her eyes still full of wonder.

“You’re welcome to stay,” you hear yourself say, “until he gets better, I mean.”

You don’t know if you’re being reckless, if this will be the thing that finally gets you killed, but it seems too elaborate to be a trap. And maybe, just maybe you like the idea of not being alone down here, even just for a short while, a little too much. She thanks you, her expression just as weary as you feel.

You offer that she can wash up if she wants, use the shower, that you could give her some clothes of yours. You’re still not sure if you’re doing the right thing, or if you’re just being incredibly stupid, but the sight of her worn down shirt and the way her hair is matted down with dirt makes your heart swell with the wish to care for her.

Her eyes flicker nervously between Joel and the bathroom door a few times, but eventually she agrees. While the shower runs, you settle down on the armchair across from the couch, sinking into the cushions, your knees pulled up to your chin, your eyes resting on the sleeping man. He’s huge, taking up the whole length of it, his feet dangling over the armrest, overwhelming even in his unconscious state.

You really hope that they’re good people. He could overpower you easily, there’s no doubt of that. You might not be a terrible fighter, but you don’t think that you’d be a match for him.

Your gaze lingers on his face, the strong shape of his nose, the pout of his lower lip, his brow furrowed even in his sleep. His fingers are twitching, one wrist adorned with a broken watch.

Ellie exits the bathroom again, clad in your old clothes, her damp hair dripping into the neckline of the t-shirt, like a younger version of you. It makes your heart ache.

Now that the adrenaline is rushing from your body, you realize how weird all this really is. You haven’t spoken to anybody in years and now there’s two people here, in your space. Maybe you’ve finally lost it for good.

You show her to the biggest of the four bedrooms, the only one that no one has ever slept in. It’s easier, opening this door, than the two other ones that you keep shut. You debate moving Joel from the couch to the bed, Ellie mumbling about his back, but ultimately you decide against it.

“Okay,” you hesitate, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m in the room right next to you, if you need anything… Just– please don’t murder me in my sleep, okay?”

She mirrors your wry smile. “I won’t if you won’t.”

You nod and leave the room, praying that you’re making the right call here. You’re doing something good, right? And no one would plan an ambush like this. Would they?

You heave a sigh and retreat to your own bedroom, your gun clutched tightly in your grasp. You doubt that it would save you, not against that man who’s currently softly snoring on your couch. Still, it makes you feel a little better. You turn the lock on your door too, just in case.

When you sink back under the covers, eyes still wide open and staring into the darkness, a small smile creeps onto your lips despite your worries.

It’s not the way it was, it will never be that way again. But not being the only soul down here fills you with the ghost of a warmth that you had thought you’d never feel again.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!

#janas fics #fic: safe and sound #joel miller #ellie williams #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories

1K notes · View notes

shadowsviper · 2 months ago

Text

Thanos and Nam-Gyu as Cats

I mean as literal cats.

I've been wanting to continue my Birds of a Feather fic but idk if I want to continue it. I have part two half written and I could finish it and post it but that would mean a part three, four, and so on. It's been like a month since I posted the first part and it does end without any cliffhangers so I feel like I could just leave it without continuing it?

Feel free to leave any recommendations for new fics though, no full smuts though I'm bad at writing them. I only write for Thanos and Nam-gyu at the moment. Please don't expect them to be done in a few days either lmao I'm a senior college student I'm busy af and I only write when I have time.

Anyway, enjoy Thanos and Nam-Gyu as cats, and you eventually finding them! I kept reader neutral.

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Thanos is an orange cat

Nam-gyu is either a black cat or a tuxedo cat

Not a single brain cell between the two of them

Thanos is bigger than Nam-gyu but skinnier due to not being able to eat much on the streets

Thanos has a long tail and he has little control over it. He's smacked Nam-gyu multiple times before without realizing

Nam-gyu has longer fangs, his top ones stick out of his mouth and he thinks it makes him look badass but to Thanos and everyone else, they think he looks adorable

They were strays for a long time. They found each other on a rainy day.

Nam-gyu had a little cardboard box under some stairs, it's not the best home in the world, but it's the best he's ever had. Thanos squeezed himself into the box one day, drenched from the rain. He didn't realize Nam-gyu was already inside but he couldn't care, he was just happy to be out of the rain

Nam-gyu definitely hissed and scratched at Thanos the second he saw him climb in

Thanos couldn't be bothered at all

Nam-gyu decided to leave him be for the night, assuming he'd be gone in the morning

He was wrong, Thanos didn't leave. In fact, he never left.

They quickly got used to each other and decided to stay together. Thanos did most of the hunting when they were hungry since he was faster than Nam-gyu. He would always return with food, scraps taken from people nearby

Thanos was more likely to get into fights with other cats. Whether it's over territory, food, or literally anything. Nam-gyu has to drag him away every time. If Nam-gyu wasn't there, then Thanos would definitely return home with a few scratches

The two of them were smart when they needed to be. When the two of them would go out to hunt together, Nam-gyu became the distraction. He would purposely rub against the store owner's legs, meowing. The store owner would kneel down to pet him and it took everything in him to not try and bite their hand.

While the store owner was distracted, Thanos would jump over the products and snatch up a big fish. As soon as his paws hit the ground, Nam-gyu chased after him, leaving the store owner confused for a second before he realized what they had done

That strategy kept them fed for a while before they started getting recognized and shooed away before they got close to food

At this point, it's probably been about a year since they found each other. Their home remained the same spot, the little cardboard box they met in. That was until their alleyway was cleaned up and their home was gone

Nam-gyu refused to leave for a while. That spot had been his home for the longest time. He didn't know where else to go

It took a while for Thanos to convince him to leave the spot and find a better place. He had suggested places across the river, where the people had more money, meaning more and better food, and maybe even a better home

They slowly made their way across the river, purposely moving at night to avoid people.

If they ever moved during the day, it was guaranteed that Thanos would try to get people to pet him and give him all their attention

Nam-gyu hissed every time a hand came close to him

If he hadn't considered Thanos as a friend, he would've bitten his head off by now

After traveling for a few days, they settled in a alleyway, next to a small cafe. Scraps were limited but it tasted better than anything they had before

This is where you meet them

You were closing the cafe one night and out of the corner of your eye, you saw an orange cat sitting at the corner of the alleyway. You could tell he wasn't getting enough food, the poor cat was scrawny for his size

You knelt down and offered a hand for him to sniff, only for him to simply shove his head into your hand. You could hear the rough purrs coming from him as you scratched his chin

"You're probably starving, huh?" you reached into your bag and pulled out your lunch from earlier. It was just some leftover chicken. You offered it to the cat

After a few sniffs, Thanos ate the chicken without any hesitation. He picked up the last few pieces and looked up at you. He blinked once before walking away and disappearing into the dark alleyway

It was days before you saw the cat again. This time he was sitting at the entrance of the cafe, meowing for your attention.

You gave him your leftovers again and watched as he ate it, took the rest, and disappeared. It became your routine for a few weeks

The next time you saw him again, he was with another cat. He was a sleek black cat with piercing eyes. You could tell he wasn't as friendly as the orange one

"Are they the ones giving you food?" Nam-gyu had asked. His tail flicked from side to side, distrust was evident in all his movements

"Yeah, I didn't even have to do anything. The food is good so I kept coming back," Thanos had said

You didn't know the two of them were talking to each other. All you heard were meows and assumed they were asking for food so you fed them

It took Nam-gyu a while to trust you. He would snatch the food up and eat it from a distance

Thanos was easily attached to you, he loved the attention, the warmth. He soaked it all up

Nam-gyu was the complete opposite, he had a natural distrust of humans and refused to get any closer than he needed. You're lucky if you can hand him some food without him hissing

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I'm gonna end this here lmao this became longer than what I planned. I might make a part 2.

I kinda want to make this idea into a fic idk though. Please give me some ideas.

#squid game headcanons #squid game thanos #squid game nam gyu #thanos x reader #nam gyu x reader #choi su bong x reader #choi su bong #namgyu x reader #player 230 #player 124 #squid game #squid game x y/n #thanos x y/n #nam gyu x y/n #thanos #nam gyu

212 notes · View notes

bridenore · 2 months ago

Text

HD war setting fic recs : less than 30k words

Here are a few drarry wartime fic recs that are less than 30k words. Posted in alphabetical order, as always.

And I Know the Spark by @firethesound [15k]

All Draco cares about is keeping Potter alive, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that happens.

The Boy Who Died by @magpiefngrl [26k]

Harry dies in the forest. Sixteen years later, he comes back to life.

Coins by Inell [5k]

Coins make a certain jingling sound whenever they are tossed onto the top of a wooden bureau.

Death Comes for Us All by @lumosatnight [5k]

Burying his face in Draco’s hair, he can smell the smoke from the cigarette, can taste the ashes lingering in his mouth. Harry finds it comforting, a reminder that Draco has seen his worst and still chooses to stay.

Dissonance by BummedOutWriter [17k]

Draco met Harry’s eyes directly, and spoke to him for the first time in eleven months, “Avada…” The rest was muffled in trauma as Harry felt a familiar warmth of magic, a flash of emerald light descending rapidly as he squeezed his eyes shut, and braced for— Or: In which Draco becomes a death eater, has a daughter, and tries to forget about her.

The Doll and the Puppet by @heyitsamorette [2k]

Harry is trapped in a cell, but Draco is trapped somewhere far worse.

Eight Days in November by @emmagrant01 [8k]

Harry hides Draco form Death Eaters during the war. A lot can happen in eight days. (Written pre-Deathly Hallows.)

A Fruit Tree in Winter by bryoneybrynn [29k]

After failing in his task of killing Dumbledore, life doesn’t go as Draco expected. Sometimes just surviving takes everything you’ve got. And sometimes healing is something you can’t do alone. Story goes AU/AR from the end of Half-Blood Prince.

Hands Open by mizBean [5k]

Harry likes to remember.

Home Is Him by flightinflame [2k]

Harry doesn’t regret letting Draco escape, even though he’s alone. The chances they can steal together and the life growing within him are more than he ever thought he would get.

In Plain Sight by @pennygalleon [4k]

Harry doesn’t tire of this. It’s a sense of belonging he’d never even dared to dream of having back when he was living with the Dursleys. So it’s probably too good to be true…

Into the Unknown by @drarrelie [4k]

It’s been echoing within him for months, like an annoying song that gets stuck in your head and refuses to let go. A nagging feeling in his core, telling him to say something, to do something, to go somewhere. Last night it finally happened. He did it. And it felt good; right. “I can’t be sure.” Four words, easy as that. It had been almost impossible to smother the sudden burst of joy rushing through him as that deep-seated urge rejoiced his unexpected act of rebellion. You’d think the Dark Lord’s punishment would’ve taken the exhilaration out of him, but no. Here he is, countless Crucios later, beaten and bruised, and never has the voice sounded this clear. He’s said something. He’s done something. And now he just has to go somewhere. He has no idea where, but he’s certain it will come to him. All he has to do is get out of here, then trust magic to do the rest.

The Longest Night by coffeejunkii [3k]

Draco discovers that waiting doesn’t equal hoping, and that some wishes do come true.

Marbles Lost and Found by Saras_Girl [5k]

All Draco wanted was a cup of tea. Now he has to find out what Potter is doing with all of those purple things.

Never the Same Again by dragon_charmer / Frances Potter [22k]

The war is over … in fact it never really got started because the Dark Lord proved to be the more powerful. Now five years after Dumbledore’s death, Draco Malfoy has something else to worry about besides being a spy.

Not That Kind of Lovers by @alpha-exodus [5k]

The only thing Draco knows is that at the end of this, one of them will be dead.

The Precipice Beyond by bsmog [5k]

It was just sex, this thing with Malfoy. Until one day, it wasn’t. The morning after the night before, and the day that follows, which, as it happens, is rather an important one for Harry Potter.

Spinner’s End by SilentAuror [18k]

The war is in full swing when Harry is forced to spend an unexpected stint in Spinner’s End.

Take Me Down (War Is Hell Remix) by mizbean [3k]

Draco is practiced in the art of self-deception. He learned from the best.

Tent Secrets by RurouniHime [2k]

Draco, Harry, and a few minutes to themselves.

The War is Over by valinorean [10k]

The war ended years ago, but some people are still living in it.

Whose Was That Gentle Voice? by @writcraft [1k]

When the Dark Lord turns against the followers he no longer trusts, the Malfoy family are the first in line. Fenrir gets a plaything and Draco waits for Harry to save him.

Without Sound of Bells by scarlet_malfoy [20k]

What would the world be like if Harry and Draco and been friends since the beginning?

You See Through My Disguise by @aibidil [9k]

Bellatrix’s knife flew across the room, but Harry leaped, pushing Dobby and Griphook to safety but stranding himself at Malfoy Manor. Now he and Draco are locked in the cellar with Wormtail’s corpse and a rat, waiting for Voldemort to return and decide their fate.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

#my recs #drarry #drarry recs

104 notes · View notes

srjlvr · 2 years ago

Text

WEVERSE CRUSH !

YOUR favorite hobby after a busy schedule is going on weverse and trying to get jungwon’s(your classmates) attention so bad! what happens when it does actually happen? you get excited of course! but what happens when you get a reply from him every day?

OR in which you caught jungwon’s attention with your posts on weverse and now, regardless of his tight schedule and millions of fans who’s trying to get his attention, he’s only searching for your posts every day.

PAIRING idol!jungwon X idol&fan!femreader

GENER fluff , a bit of angst , comfort , type of classmates to lovers(?) but they’re basically strangers on weverse !

WARNINGS vv cringy i think , mentions of stress , awful humor and pick up lines ! (pls lmk if i missed something)

WC 4.9k+ (the longest i’ve written ever!)

NOTE this is to all of the fans that never got noticed by jungwon on weverse but do get a lot of spams💔 n e ways pls like this i worked hard on this☹️🤞🏻

NOT PROOFREAD!!

wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍 : 10:20PM jungwon! i had a busy schedule today but thinking about you always made me feel better🤍

“trying again?” one of your group mates glanced at you staring at your phone, “i’m just sharing how my day was” you shrugged.

“he’s got like millions of posts, you know that too” she chuckled, “instead of being online in your own group’s weverse you’re going online on your fan account”

“i’m online everyday you’re just overreacting” you rolled your eyes.

“why don’t you just talk to him in class? didn’t you say you both were classmates?” she pat your head.

you shook your head, “it’s not that easy, we’re both barely attending to class because of our busy schedule, and we basically stopped talking after a while”

“it’s the only way i can interact with him—at least hope so? idk”

“and what if he does notice you?” she suddenly asked, “what are you going to do then?”

“probably faint”

“you’re acting like a real fan right now”

“what do you mean acting? i am a real fan”

“no you’re not, you’re just crushing over him and don’t know how to properly confess so you’re using this app and hoping to get noticed” your other group mate barged in your conversation.

“i mean, you both are classmates but you’re always so desperate to grab his attention on weverse, what’s the point of that?” she added.

“it kinda like became my usual thing to do, before i log into our weverse i log into enhypen and leave a post there” you shrugged, “it’s one of my favorite things to do”

“you’re hopelessly in love” they both teased you.

“good morning!” you greet your classmates. your schedule was clean for the whole week so you decided were forced to go back to school.

your friends greeted you back and you sat at your desk.

“morning” jungwon mumbled as he entered the class.

it was a rare sight, jungwon’s never usually at school. his schedule is way busier than yours and considering the fact that you show up to school once a month, it was quite surprising to see jungwon’s presence.

“morning” you greeted back and he went to his seat at the corner of the class.

you missed him. you actually did. having a crush is more than just thinking about someone 24/7, it’s also about missing him.

jungwon is your role model, he had always been. being classmates for more than four years together, he helped you getting into the company you wanted and encouraged you to stay until you debut.

you went through all of this because of him and yet, both of you rarely even talk.

jungwon couldn’t quite explain why, perhaps it’s your pretty eyes that he gets lost while staring at them, or was it your smile that always ( no matter when ! ) lights up the world, his world.

he found himself getting all shy and closed up being around you, call it cheesy but jungwon just can’t stop thinking about you and missing you.

he tends to come to school more often these days, some might think he’s just trying to catch up with school, but truth is, he’s searching for you every day, to see you and your smile.

you sat at the front line while jungwon sat at the corner, which makes it easier for him to stare at you without you even noticing.

“should i ask him to eat lunch with us today?” you whispered to your seatmate and she nodded.

“i just don’t know—“ “morning! finally y/n we get to see you!” the teacher got in class and cut you.

after class you gathered all your stuffs quickly but stopped when you felt a figure standing in front of you,

“hey um” you coughed, “jungwon, i’m jungwon-“ he cut you off.

you froze, a bit taken aback, “no i know-“ “oh! oh right” he nodded.

“i was wondering if you’d like to grab some-“

“hey y/n! let’s go to the cafeteria!” your friends called you and you instantly frowned, “i can’t, something urgent came up and i need to go”

they nodded and left, you then turned to jungwon, “what did you want to-“ “it’s okay, never mind about that” he quickly mumbled and left.

wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍 : 11:34PM jungwon! i had school today but i had to leave early today because something urgent came up ): i missed lunch with someone i really adore and im really sad):

“hey jay! check this out” jungwon showed jay his phone. “what’s wrong?” jay asked after reading the post.

“it seems so weird! it happened to me today at school too” he coughed, “with y/n”

“y/n again? you never stop talking about her” niki joined in.

jungwon sighed, “i can’t stop thinking about her, it’s like she’s living in my mind rent free”

jay pat jungwon’s shoulder, he can see how sad is friend is and how difficult things are for him.

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: you’ll always have tomorrow to spend together!

“OH MY GOD” you froze, looking at your phone for a few good minutes until your group mates came in rushing, “ARE YOU OKAY?”

one of them held a pan in her hand, ready to attack any stalker.

“it’s-“ you tried to speak, “it’s-“

“just give me the phone!” another one grabbed your phone and looked through it.

she sighed when she realized what was happening, “really y/n?”

“what is it?”

the curious cats followed her and peeked into her phone, they all sighed when they saw what is this all about.

“i was about to experience a heart attack!! we don’t do those things y/n!”

“no but you don’t understand!”

“yang jungwon just replied to me!” you walked back and forth around the room.

“i need you to sit down and calm down!” the leader held your shoulders and dropped you on the couch, “it happened once and it probably won’t happen again, i’m really happy for you”

“if you don’t get noticed by him at school at least you got noticed by him on weverse”

“BURNNN” they all shout and giggled.

you know they were joking, your groupmates became your family in a blink of an eye. they take a good care of you, and worry about you 24/7, like good old sisters.

but what they like to do the most is to tease you, which you find very annoying, but they just find it really cute.

“i’m definitely going to keep an eye on her” jungwon said to jay who was sitting next to him, “i have no choice but to trust your instincts now” he replied.

“how was your schedule yesterday?” your classmate asked you the next day.

you laid your head on your desk and groaned, “it was pretty tiring most of the time”

they pat your head and let you off, without having any other distractions—you fell asleep.

“morn-” jungwon got into the classroom and noticed your sleeping figure.

he smiled to himself, finding you so cute and adorable with your head all smashed over your desk and your slow breaths that made him think you were choking there for a second.

“what are you looking at?” his friend put his hand over jungwon’s shoulder, “nothing, i was just thinking about something”

“y/n wake up!” you heard someone whispering. you slowly opened your eyes and was welcomed by your friends all gathered around you with a big smile, “what is it?” you uttered.

“someone got you this drink” one of your friends held out your favorite drink, “you slept through all the periods, it’s lunch time already”

you looked at your phone and gasped, “why did no one wake me up?”

“we tried, you just were in deep sleep”

“thank you for the drink, did you happen to see who that was?” you curiously looked at the drink as your friends shrugged, “we all went out to get our lunch”

wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍 : 6:08PM something really weird happened today at school! someone bought me my favorite drink and put it on my desk! do you think i should look for that person?

“look!!” jungwon, who was active on weverse suddenly noticed the post, “it’s the same person from yesterday”

jay sat next to him and peeked at jungwon’s phone, “why? did you buy y/n her favorite drink today without her knowing?” he giggled but stopped when he noticed jungwon started blushing, “you can’t be serious”

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: go search for that person!!

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: i wish you good luck🤍

“AGAIN??” you shout, you sat on the couch with your groupmates and made them all jump when you shout.

“again?” they sighed, “WAIT WHAT?”

you showed them your phone with jungwon’s replies and they all joined you to the shouts.

“you know what they say!” one of them said, “third time a charm!” the rest of you completed the sentence and giggled.

“i’m going to be full honest now,” another one said, “i don’t think there is going to be a third time”

“you never know!”

the next day you got notified that your “schedule-free” week was a complete lie.

“what do you mean i can’t go to school this week? you told me i’m free!” your argued your manager.

“some photoshoots and sponsors came up, i’m sorry it’s like that” she pat your shoulder.

“how am i going to see jungwon again?” you asked your group leader.

if there’s one thing she’s good at, it’s probably to listen and give advices, that’s why you find yourself always laying your head on her lap and venting out your concerns.

“it’s not like you’ve seen him a lot before” she said, “right?”

“no but it was different this time! i was actually ready to talk to him about everything”

“what do you mean everything?”

“i don’t know i—“ you sighed, “my feelings? the way i feel whenever i look at him? everything”

“you do realize that it’d probably be weird to confess to someone you rarely talk to, right?”

“i hate that you’re right” you rolled your eyes, “i was actually ready to befriend him, to get closer to him”

“you’re so boring y/n! you should be more bold!”

“what do you expect me to do?”

“show him that you’re interested in him without being too weird and confessing your feelings” she smirked.

“but how?”

“do you know how to rizz up someone?”

wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍 : 11:39AM jungwon! aside from stealing hearts, what do you do?

“are you serious with me right now? why did you post that!” you shout at your leader who was busy laughing her ass off, “is that what you meant by being bold?”

“that is how you rizz up people now!”

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: do you normally flirt with people so easily?

“OH MY GOD??” you dropped your phone and your friend froze, “don’t tell me he replied” she gasped.

“ALMOST INSTANTLY” you nodded and kneeled to get your now broken phone.

“NO WAY” she laughed, “third time a charm!”

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: but other than stealing hearts i think about you🤍

“slap me right now” you smacked your hand over your forehead, “okay” she slapped you.

“why would you do that?”

“you asked for it!”

on the other side, jungwon was giggling at his phone, staring at it for a few good minutes, that was until heeseung took his phone away.

“hey! give it back” jungwon tried to take his now stolen phone back but heeseung was too strong,

“i saw you smiling at your phone so i thought you were texting someone,” heeseung sighed and returned jungwon’s phone, “but weverse, really?”

jungwon shrugged, “i’m just replying to fans, they’re cute”

heeseung shook his head in return, “it’s not ‘fans’ you’re talking to, it’s only one specific fan you’re replying to”

“i’ve been replying to other fans too”

“that’s what you’d like to think”

heeseung was right, jungwon does only reply to the person he said he’d keep an eye on, which is totally fine, but at what cost?

“fans are starting to think you’re dating that person secretly, you should be careful” heeseung sighed.

“you’re right, that person just interests me” jungwon replied, “i have this weird feeling it might be y/n”

“y/n? why would she be on our weverse page?” heeseung tilt his head, “doesn’t she have her own group’s weverse page to go through?”

“yeah, but some posts of her really reminds me of situations that occurred between us,” jungwon nodded, “look, a few days ago she posted something that was really similar to what happened at school!”

heeseung took jungwon’s phone again to look through the suspicious account, “let’s just keep an eye on this account”

“that’s what i’ve been trying to say!”

wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍 : 11:45AM jungwon i was so surprised when i got a reply from you and dropped my phone💔 it’s broken now!!

“that’s—“ jungwon gasped, “that’s not what i meant to happen with my response”

heeseung just giggled, “i mean who wouldn’t be surprised to get a reply from their favorite idol?”

jungwon nodded and slowly tapped his reply.

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: haha i’d be surprised if i were you too!!

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: how will i ever be able to repay you?

“now it just feels like he’s flirting back with me” you chuckled.

“you caught jungwon’s attention y/n!” your leader giggled, “notice how he’s always replying to you almost instantly? it’s as if he’s waiting to see your posts”

you shook your hand, “no way! why would jungwon wait for me to be online?”

“that my friend,” she put her hand on your shoulder, “is up to you to figure that out”

the next day you begged your manager to cancel your schedule, with the excuse of, “i have exams coming up and i need to catch up, do you want to see me fail?”

and it actually worked!

today you’re going to see jungwon and talk to him, no matter what!

you arrived at school and sat by your usual seat, putting your broken phone on the desk and laying your head over your hands next to it.

you slowly drifted to sleep, school is too boring on the morning anyway!

as jungwon entered the class he first looked over your direction, of course he would.

he smiled to himself, he always does when he looks at you.

he then noticed your phone that was right next to you, it was smashed and broken, as if it was dropped.

jungwon gasped, he opened his phone and entered weverse, searching the account he’s been keeping an eye on, and that was it.

a dropped and now broken phone, it’s a match!

he took a picture of your broken phone and went back to his seat to text his members about the shocking news.

‘it’s definitely her’ he sent the text and added the picture of your broken phone.

‘i don’t think so, just because of a broken phone?’ jay responded.

‘yes! she said yesterday that her phone was dropped and got broken’ jungwon replied.

‘it might be a coincidence’ heeseung claimed.

jungwon was about to text them back but had to turn off the phone once the teacher entered the class.

first break of the day was a good opportunity to talk to jungwon. you woke up in the middle of the second period and thought about ways to approach him.

you searched for him in the class, eyes scanning every place until you landed on his seat, of course, that’s how he usually spends his first break. in his usual seat, with a snack in one hand and in the other he’s holding his phone and scrolling through social media.

you got up, suddenly feeling bold enough to make steps towards his seat.

“hey jungwon” you let out.

he froze for a second, then turning off his phone and putting away his snack, “oh, hey y/n”

“heyyyyy” you said again.

“hey?” he questioned.

“uhm” you coughed, “sorry”

“it’s okay, is there something wrong?”

“no no!” you shook your hand, “i was just wondering”

you was about to continue but your phone buzzed, you got a notification.

“your phone’s broken” he pointed out.

shit, you thought. “yeah” you giggled, “i uh—“

“i dropped it after my members decided to pull a scary prank on me” good one.

he nodded and chuckled, “so?”

“so,” you cleared your throat, “i was wondering if you’d like to start over again”

finally!! you cheered.

“i mean, you’ve helped me a lot through my trainee days and encouraged me to achieve my dreams but we stopped talking after i debuted and i really feel like—“ you spoke too fast and jungwon cut you off, “i’d really like that”

“really?” you asked and he nodded, “really”

wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍 : 8:50PM i asked my crush if he’d like to get to know each other again today!! he’s a person that really helped me through tough times and always encouraged me! we were good friends back then but stopped talking after a while, i really thought he was angry at me for some reason, but i couldn’t stop having feelings for him, so i made the first step today and he actually agreed!! im so happy!!

“you did WHAT?” your group leader asked you.

“i did it, i asked if he’d like to get to know each other aga-“

“oh im so proud of you my child” she hugged you tightly and pecked your forehead, “you’re all grown up now”

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: well,

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: i’m sure he wasn’t angry with you at all!

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: im happy that you two are starting all over again, who knows, maybe he feels the same about you ;)

“got you y/n” jungwon giggled.

“why don’t you just talk with her about it?” jake put his hand over jungwon’s shoulders as he stared at his phone.

“it’s difficult” jungwon frowned, “do i just go like ‘oh hey! i know you have a weverse account and i know your user, i have feelings for you too so let’s date’?”

“yeah!” jake nodded and jungwon groaned, “you’re no help”

“so? tell us everything” your members sat you on the couch while they surrounded you with some curious eyes.

“about?”

“about what happened at school!”

“i went to jungwon, asked him if he’d like to start over again, he said he’d love to, so we went together to get some lunch and talked about everything we missed, it was real fun honestly really recommend you to do that too—“

“did you confess, or not” they all asked.

“no why would i confess so soon”

they all sighed, “no drama, no fun!”

you rolled your eyes, “can we at least eat something now?”

wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍 : 9:27PM i don’t think he feels the same, but it was really fun to spend the day together with him, his company has always made me feel warm and comfortable.

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: im more than happy to hear that! first breaks are always so fun when you spend them with a person you like ^-^

you tilt your head in confusion, showing your phone to your members, “look at that”

they all read your post and his reply, “what’s so weird about it?”

“i never said i spent the first break together with him”

“DO YOU THINK HE KNOWS?” you freaked out, “OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD” you held your head, moving back and forth around the room.

“y/n calm down!!” your leader said, “maybe he just assumed it was the first break since it’s the first time of the day you get to spend with other people!”

“you’re right,” you breathed in, calming yourself down, “thank you”

next day you went back in track, your manager told you the next time you’d be showing up to school would be only on exams and maybe next month.

your schedule became busier than before, you barely had time to breath. going back and forth, from a phothshoot to an interview then practice and more.

you were drained and overworked, your phone hasn’t been touched ever since the last day you showed up at school, which means—you haven’t showed up on weverse a few weeks already.

you’d see jungwon only when you arrive to school to take exams, but then disappear right away after you finish them.

“waiting for a new update again?” sunghoon asked jungwon who was staring at his phone and refreshing the page every minute, “yeah” he replied.

“she’s always online around these hours” he added.

“have you seen her at school?” sunghoon asked, jungwon froze for a second, thinking about the last time you showed up at school, “only when there’s an exam we need to take”

“maybe she’s just having a busy schedule,” sunghoon shrugged, “you’re barely online when you have a tight schedule”

“right” jungwon nodded, “but i wonder if she’s doing well” he sighed and closed his phone.

the past days has been awful to you. you slowly felt yourself vanishing, like a lifeless soul walking around.

your groupmates always looks after you worriedly, you’d barely even talk to anyone.

“y/n what about eating something?” your leader asked you, “no i’m okay, i ate just a few minutes ago” you smiled.

that was a total lie, you simply didn’t feel like eating lately.

slowly but surely you stared at your phone, five minutes won’t hurt, right?

wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍 : 12:57PM haven’t been active lately and i miss being here and interacting with you jungwon! i don’t think i’ll be able to be active again so i’m here to say that you should take good care of yourself, eat your meals in time and rest when you need to.🤍 your health always comes first!!

you sighed and turned off your phone.

jungwon, who was busy staring at his phone and waiting for a new update suddenly jumped in his chair.

“finally”

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: im sorry to hear that, is everything okay?

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: i’ll make sure to take care of myself as long as you take care of yourself too 🤍

he replied immediately, as if he’s the one getting a notification from you each time you post something—when it’s supposed to be the opposite.

“jungwon we’ve recently found out that you’re suffering from that illness,” niki pat jungwon’s head,

“what is it?”

“the ‘weverse crush’ illness” niki laughed and jungwon sighed.

“you can’t stop refreshing the page to see a new post from her!” jay claimed, “and you’re replying so fast whenever she does post something” jake added.

“you should just get her phone number and text her” heeseung shrugged.

“but im not sure it’s her” jungwon turned off his phone.

“all clues points at her, it’s worth a shot” sunghoon nodded.

the next day you were forced to go back to school, your school principal complained about the fact that you’ve been missing most of your classes and nearly failing in all of them.

so it’s settled, you’ll be going to school for a month sharp, without any useless inconveniences.

first day of school after a while of not being there felt like a nightmare.

you looked at the school building with horror, yet, you felt a bit excited to see jungwon again.

you took your usual seat, put your earphones in and listened to your favorite song.

when jungwon entered the class, he was surprised to see you sitting there and staring at one point of the class.

he knocked on your desk and you zoomed out, “oh, hey” you smiled weakly.

something definitely happened while you were gone, “hey, it’s good to see you again”

the teacher entered the class right away and jungwon ran to his seat.

at lunch, you stayed in your desk, excusing yourself from your friends and going back to your books to read and study.

jungwon frowned, he has to do something about it.

he went to the cafeteria and got your favorite snack, he knows it’s your favorite, he remembers.

you were so focused on your study book to notice jungwon’s figure next to you.

“knock knock?” he questioned and you looked at him, making eye contact for a few seconds before looking away.

“hey again” you closed your book and focused on him.

“i got it for you” he handed you your favorite snack with a wide grin on his face.

“thank you”

silence. it was so quiet that you could even hear the birds outside.

“is everything okay?” he suddenly asked.

“huh?”

“oh yes, everything’s amazing” you smiled.

“we both know you’re lying”

turns out you were a bad liar after all.

“i’m not going to force you to speak,” he pat your shoulder, “but i’m here for you”

those words, were enough to break you down.

you felt comfort around him, you felt everything you feel around someone you’re in love with, you felt warm, welcomed and understood.

so you told him everything, from A to Z.

jungwon is known as his group’s no.1 comforter, and he’s now your personal no.1 comforter as well.

he knew the exact words to say to you and how to make you feel better.

right when you finished crying he told you a joke, and now you were shedding tears out of laughter.

“thank you” you looked at him with comfort.

“anytime” he chuckled and stole your snack, “you’re not crying anymore so i’ll just take that and save it for myself”

you rolled your eyes and kept messing around until it was time for another class.

wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍 : 8:30PM i had the best day ever today! i saw my favorite person ever at school today, after a long time i haven’t been able to see him! i also cried in front of him (was so embarrassing) but he comforted me so well, i think i’m falling in love all over again.

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: see!! lunch time can be so fun when you’re with a person you like too!!

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: i hope you’ll be able to spend more time together in the future!!

“he definitely knows” you freaked out.

“even if he does,” your leader clapped, “what’s so wrong about it?”

“what if he doesn’t like me back?”

“he does”

“how do you know that?”

“because i just do!” she sighed, “otherwise he wouldn’t reply to you so instantly as if he waits for your posts every day”

“you’re right” you nodded.

“but what if he does it just so he could laugh at me with his members?”

“not a chance” she groaned, “stop overthinking so much and just talk to him about it!”

“so um,” the next day, you dragged jungwon out of the classroom as soon as he entered.

you had to talk about it before the rest of the day continues.

“you have weverse right…?” you suddenly asked, “oh my god that was so stupid of me of course you do you’re an idol and—“

“i know it’s you” he cut you off.

“what?”

“isn’t that what you wanted to ask me?” he tilt his head, “i know it’s you” he repeated.

“and,” you wanted to continue but couldn’t find the words.

“i like you too” he suddenly confessed.

“wha—“

you were about to respond but he cut you off with a peck on your lips, “i said i like you too”

you looked at him, making eye contact for a few good minutes, both of your cheeks are now as red as a tomato,

and as you looked at his pretty face, you could notice how red his ears became.

“for how long?” you asked,

“ever since we started talking” he smiled, “your pretty smile, your beautiful eyes and breathtaking smile, everything about you just made me think about you all day”

“then why—“ “i couldn’t talk to you after you debuted, i was so scared it might hurt your image, and i couldn’t always find the right words to talk to you,” he looked down,

“i didn’t want to look like a loser in front of you” he kicked the air like a little child.

“jungwon” you smiled, “looking like a loser isn’t something to be ashamed of” you giggled.

“i like you, in any form or any shape or whatever!” you joked and hugged him tightly.

“would you like to go on a date with me today right after school?” he suddenly asked.

“so bold of you” you teased, pecking the tip of his nose, “but yes, i’d love to go on a date with you”

“can i finally call you mine?” he held your hand.

“of course” you pecked his lips,

“don’t get confused when you’re replying to me on weverse!”

#enhypen imagines #enhypen drabbles #enhypen #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #enhypen headcanons #enhypen oneshots #enhypen x reader #jungwon x reader #jungwon imagines #enhypen jungwon #jungwon scenarios #jungwon fluff #jungwon drabbles #yang jungwon #jungwon oneshots #jungwon angst

1K notes · View notes

a-babe-without-a-name · 2 months ago

Text

Sit Next To Me

Chapter 6: Only For You

You had created two rules for yourself.

Rule One: You could do whatever you wanted. Get the degree you want, party when you want, cancel plans when you want, love who you want. Whatever you really wanted to do, you were going to do, anxiety and guilt free.

Rule Two: You could do whatever you wanted, except for have relationships with classmates. No sex, no dating. If they were on the same course roster as you, they were off limits.

Easy enough, right?

…Right?

Viktor x Female!Reader - 18+

A.N. I saw 'sorry this took so long' for every chapter, but this is probably the one with the biggest gap. I'm semi-sorry , semi-not because this is the longest chapter I've written so far (14.3k words). It's also 3 am, but I am determined to post. So here it is. I hope everyone loves it. Very mild content warnings on AO3. Have fun, I love you all dearly <3 (more author notes may appear in the replies)

A link to the playlist for this chapter is in the replies!

EDIT: Shout out to @cicadastoner for letting me ramble some ideas to them and figure things out.

Read on AO3

October officially ushered out the last days of summer. Replacing the sunny days with falling leaves and the excitement of a fresh semester with mid-term blues. Unlike all the past semesters, you were fairly unbothered this term. Of your courses, only Hiemerdinger’s class had an official midterm exam. The rest didn’t bother and instead continued assignments as normal. It was clear you were one of the few to be spared the anxieties.

Viktor had gotten to class before you. You found him glaring down at the textbook in front of him and tugging his normally neat hair into a mess of cowlicks, his leg jumping like it was trying to run away from his body. As you got closer to him, you could tell that he wasn’t exactly looking at anything in particular. Just staring at the table, the muscles around his eyes twitching almost imperceptibly and the soft skin darker than you had ever seen it.

“Morning,” You said, sliding into your seat next to him, waiting for a response that didn’t come. You tilted your head at him, lips pursed, “Viktor?”

Nothing. You felt bad thinking about how pretty he looked when he was upset. The already strong lines of his face were that much more prominent, his eyes were darker, his whole demeanor more intense. He let out a shaky breath through his nose, still seemingly unaware of your presence.

“Viktor?” You asked again, then reached out and placed a firm hand on his knee, stopping the motion, “Vik?”

He sucked in a harsh breath, turning to you with wide eyes. He blinked a few times, registering where he was.

“Sorry,” He shook his head lightly, heaving a sigh before saying your name, “Goodmorning.”

“Are you okay?” You squeezed his knee, still shaking slightly, “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Uh, yeah,” He straightened up, placing his palm over the back of your hand, “Yeah, no I didn’t, I guess, sorry.”

“You’re starting to sound like me,” You joked, laughing softly, “Sorry, sorry. What’s up? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this anxious?”

“Your American habits are rubbing off on me,” He pulled his hand away and ran it through his hair, he leaned into the back of his chair.

“Really, what’s got you all worked up?” You tried to think if he had mentioned anything coming up that would cause this reaction, “You only have the one midterm test, right? Please tell me you aren’t worried about Heimerdinger's test.”

He hesitated for a moment, picking at the edge of the table and not looking up at you, “And if I said I was?”

“Then I’d tell you that’s dumb and you are the last person that should be worried about this test,” You told him, leaning forward to try to catch his gaze. He met your eyes, seemingly unconvinced. You leaned farther into his space, hoping he believed you when you urged, “Seriously, I mean it.”

He rolled his eyes in response, but fought back a smile as he gently pushed you away, a laugh slipping past his lips, “Okay, whatever you say.”

“If you want help studying, I’m always around,” You teased, “Not like you need it, but still.”

“Well, if I need someone to tell me the wrong pages to study, I’ll keep you in mind,” He teased, smirking over at you.

“Hey, that was one time,” You pouted, face going red thinking about when you had given him the completely wrong chapter to complete homework on.

Before Viktor could reply, Jinx and Ekko arrived at the table holding two more coffees than usual.

“Good morning my lovely lab partners,” Jinx said, extra bubbly as she set the two extra cups down in front of you and Viktor, “My birthday gifts for you.”

“Happy birthday, Jinx,” You smiled up at her as you took the drink, “Thank you.”

“Happy birthday,” Viktor repeated, picking up the cup curiously, “Why do you bring us gifts?”

“Family tradition,” Jinx shrugged as she took her seat, “Spiced anise latte for you, and a cherry mocha for you.”

“Yeah, Vi will do it too, when it’s her birthday,” You told him

“Hm, that’s very sweet. Thank you, Jinx,” He lifted his own cup to his lips.

“Of course, my gift to everyone else is going to be the best concert and after party this town has ever seen,” Dramatic as ever, “You’re coming to our show, right Vicky?”

“I’m only letting you call me that because it’s your birthday,” Viktor scolded, “Yes, I should be able to come.”

“Should?” You scoffed, hitting him lightly on the leg, “Don’t be lame, you have to come. What else would you be doing?”

He shrugged, “Studying? Working on research?”

“No way,” Ekko said, shaking his head seriously, “You have to come, you’d actually be the worst lab partner in the world if you didn’t show up.”

“Yeah, literally the worst,” Jinx nodded, equally as serious, “We might have to drop you from the group.”

“Yeah, sure.” He rolled his eyes, looking to you for backup.

“Hey, It’s my show, too,” You pointed out, poking him in the chest as you fought back a smile, “I agree, you don’t come and you're out.”

“Fine, I’ll make sure to be there.” He laughed, waving you away from him.

“Early? And front and center?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yes ma’am.” He nodded firmly, “It seems my grade depends on it.”

“Sure does,” You told him, glad he seemed to be relieved of his undue test worries.

------

The rest of class was fairly calm. Jinx made sure to tell as many people as she could about the show, and the ones she liked about the party afterwards. Friday classes were lecture only and Heimerdinger reached the end of his presentation before even that allotted time was up. Everyone was grateful to be released early. As soon as he dismissed the class Jnx was up, practically dragging Ekko behind her on the way to whatever else she had going on today.

“You have plans before the show tonight?” You asked, bumping your shoulder into Viktor’s lightly as everyone filed out of the classroom.

“Other than reading the textbook front to back?” Viktor scoffed, “No.”

“Good, instead of stressing yourself out so much that you take years off your life,” You joked, “Come run some errands with me? I’m picking up a looper from someone on craigslist, and if you're with me the chances that I get human trafficked go down significantly.”

You followed him into the elevator, “Unfortunately, I do not believe I could actually protect you.”

You leaned against the wall as he hit the button for the first floor, you shrugged, “Eh, it’s more about having a witness than actually getting in a fight.” When the doors slid shut without anyone else inside, you moved closer to him.

“Besides,” You hooked a finger into the belt loop on the back of his jeans, and pulled him flush against you. He gasped softly, looking over his shoulder as you pushed yourself into your toes and rested your chin against his shoulder. One hand was holding the back of his jeans, the other on his waist, “I’m strong enough to take care of myself.”

The curve of his throat jumped as he swallowed hard. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You watched his face redden in real time, the tips of his ears the darkest.

“Uh, s-so,” He tried, voice catching before he cleared his throat, “your car or mine?”

You laughed and gave him some space. By the time you reached the ground floor, you were acting innocent as ever and he looked like he had just strolled through the Red District.

“I’ll drive,” You told him, “I’ve gotta pick up Ekko’s drums anyways, I’ll get you from your place in like thirty?”

“That is good,” He nodded, then he furrowed his eyebrows, glancing down at the ground and back at you, “Why…why did you do that?”

“Got you to stop thinking about the midterm, didn’t it?” You said innocently as you backed away from him towards the side door of the building, “Go home, I’ll see you in a minute.”

-----

You were the most grateful for Viktor coming along when you realized that your only way to reach the apartment building without having to walk a mile was to parallel park. You knew your truck front and back. You have driven practically every day since you earned your license, put thousands of miles on it. Despite this, parallel parking was not a skill in your repertoire.

“I’m gonna be real honest with you,” You said, truck angled awkwardly half into the spot, “I don’t know how to parallel park.”

“Eh, yes, I have gathered that,” He looked nervously over his shoulder at the traffic slowing and pulling around the front of the truck.

“I’ll just, uh, yeah I’ll just find somewhere else to park,” You laughed nervously, avoiding eye contact with other drivers.

“Wait, here, just calm down,” Viktor undid his seat belt and slid across the bench seat to be next to you, “You can do this, It’s not that hard.”

“Easy for you to say,” You mutter, now overly aware how close he was.

“Hush,” He scolded, and then, “Pull out of the spot, line up with the car in front of us.”

“But I’m already half-way in?” You challenged, hands tight on the steering wheel.

“God above! Will you just do what I tell you for two seconds?” He dragged a hand down his face, voice low. Before you could answer, he grabbed the gearshift and put the car into drive, “Pull. Forward.”

You did as he asked, hoping he contributed the blush creeping up your neck to anxiety. Once you were lined up with the car in front, he let out a sigh, apparently relieved you decided to cooperate.

“Okay, good,” He reached up and put the truck into reverse, “Now back up and pull the wheel right.” You nodded, following his instructions.

“Slowly,” He told you, leaning over to look out the window, muttering half to you half to himself, “There you go, just like that.”

The tone of his voice made you bite down on your lip, grateful he wasn’t looking at you in this moment, “Is that good?”

“Almost,” He said, voice softer as he focused, “Almost there, just a little more right…good now straighten out and pull forward a little bit.”

You did and then hesitated, unsure if you were actually in the spot. He reached over and put the truck into park.

“There, you did it,” He said leaning closer to the side of your face and huffing out a laugh, voice teasing “I thought you were an independent girl, huh?”

“Excuse you,” You scoffed at him, “I am! I just haven't gained the skill of parallel parking yet.”

He laughed at the shrug you gave him, “Okay, well, I hope you were paying attention, because next time I’m making you do it on your own.”

You rolled your eyes at him, pulling the keys from the ignition, “Yeah, no I’ve definitely got it down now.”

That was a lie.

You grabbed your bag and gestured for him to slide out of the truck, following him out the passenger side. The sidewalk was fairly busy, the mid-Friday crowd bustling from downtown shops to restaurants. You stuck close to Viktor, squinting around as you tried to find the right building.

“This guy was supposed to meet me down here,” You huffed, rolling your eyes, “But now apparently he’s too busy to walk down to meet us.”

“What’s the address?” He asked, looking over your shoulder as you pulled up the texts on your phone.

“890 Piltover Main, Unit Seven.” You read from the text, “We’re on the right road and I think it’s on this side.”

Viktor began walking looking at the building numbers, “890, right? This should be it.”

You followed him into an entry alcove, the address number almost completely hidden by ivy growing on the wall. You buzzed apartment seven on the intercom. It only took a moment before the door unlocked with a thunk.

“Trusting guy,” Viktor mused, pushing open the door for you.

You shrugged, leading the way to the elevator. It was small and creaked when you both stepped inside. You exchanged a worried glance with Viktor. Any other time you would take the stairs, but you weren’t going to leave him to die in the scary elevator alone. You didn’t linger inside when the door squeaked open on the second floor.

It wasn’t until you knocked on the door that you realized you had lost Viktor. You looked back down the hall to see him stopped in front of a frame on the wall, examining it closely. Before you could ask what he was doing the door swung open. A mid-thirties man stood in the doorway, unfortunately shirtless, an array of poorly done tattoos on display. He leaned on the doorway, cheap cologne making your eyes burn.

“Hey, uh, I’m here for the looper,” You told him, resisting the urge to scrunch your nose at the smell and ignoring the way his eyes scanned over you.

“Oh yeah, I’ve been expecting you,” He said, crossing his arms and adjusting the way he was leaning, an attempt to look more casual, “You’re late.”

“Yeah, sorry, parking was a bitch.” You said, pulling cash out of your pocket, “Twenty, right?”

“Yep,” He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, his eyes decidedly not on your face, “You want to come in and test it?”

“No, that’s okay.” You shook your head, glancing over to where Viktor was very unhelpfully down the hall, face close to the glass as he focused.

“Are you sure?” He asked, turning around and leaving the door open, an invitation you weren't taking.

“Vik,” You hissed when the guy was out of earshot. Viktor’s head snapped up, realizing you had gone ahead without him, you waved him over. Quickly he made his way down the hall toward you, his cane echoing each footstep on the warped wood flooring.

“Sorry,” He said, sheepishly ducking his head.

“It’s fine,” You whispered, slipping your hand into his, “but, I did bring you with me for a reason.”

You waited a moment for the man to return. He faltered when he found you still in the doorway with Viktor next to you, his eyes bouncing down to your hand in his.

“Sorry, I thought you were behind me.” He said, eyeing Viktor like a threat. The looper in his hand.

“No worries,” You held the cash out to him casually, “Here ya go.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come in and test it?” He asked, staring at your face, “Make sure it works right?”

“You wouldn’t offer her to test it, ” Viktor interjected, voice low as he raised an eyebrow at the man, “if you knew it didn’t work.”

“Hm, well, I could teach her how to use it.” He said, pointedly.

“I know how to use it,” You assured him, holding your hand out for the equipment, “Thanks anyways.”

When he didn’t hand it over, Viktor took the twenty out of your hand, reaching over and placing the cash in the man's free hand and firmly taking the looper out of the other.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” He said tightly, eyes narrow.

Neither of you waited for a response before turning to leave. You took the looper from him, holding it in one hand and looping your arm through his. Letting him lead you down the hall.

“I agree with Jayce,” He leaned over and whispered, “Don’t ever do this alone, please.”

“Don’t let me do it alone, then,” You told him with a shrug, “Why’d you stop anyways?”

“Blue prints,” He nodded, slowing to a stop in front of the fame he had been looking at earlier, “Old, I’m surprised it’s not kept somewhere safer.”

The blueprints were of the building you were in and the two on either side. They were indeed very old, probably original ones from when the area was first built.

“Hm, cool,” You mused, then teased him, “I’m glad you stopped to look at these instead of keeping me from being murdered.”

“I’m sorry,” He whined, following you as you hit the elevator button, “I forgot that I was to be your guard dog today.”

“If you want to be my guard dog every day,” You teased, squeezing his bicep where your hand still rested, “You won’t forget next time.”

------

The next stop was a music store. Ekko generally managed to break at least one stick during rehearsals, you predicted he’d break a couple more in the heat of the show tonight, and you had been meaning to restring your guitar for a couple weeks now. Better late than never. The store was only a few blocks from where you picked up the looper. You had offered to drive, but Viktor insisted that walking was less painful than watching you attempt to parallel park for a second time that day. Despite the dig, the short walk with Viktor was pleasant. You had reluctantly dropped your hands from his arm, but stuck close to him while you walked. Comfortably talking about nothing important.

Inside the music store you wandered through the aisles, Viktor trailing you as you searched for the few things you had come in for. Finding the drumsticks wasn’t hard, but you quickly realized you should have asked for more specifics from Ekko on which ones to pick up for him. He had mentioned the brand, but nothing about what size or wood type to get. Even within the brand he wanted, you were left with dozens of options. You sent him a text and began reading the packaging of the sticks, hoping that would give you some idea of what to look for.

“They’re just sticks,” You exasperated, squinting at the packaging in your hand, “This should not be so complicated.”

You set them down, deciding that you’d find the strings you needed while waiting for Ekko to text you back. When you turned, you were surprised to find that Viktor had strayed away. He was standing in front of one of the test keyboards, cane tucked under his arm and head bent as he played. You hadn’t even registered the sound until you saw him. You watched him for a moment. His hands moved with a practiced skill. Tufts of chestnut hair fell over his forehead, almost covering his eyes as he played. Every couple of measures he would close his eyes, eyebrows furrowed for a moment as he tilted his head to the side and thought about the chords as he played them, lips parted gently. You took a photo before he could notice, making a mental note to save it into the folder overflowing with candids of your friends.

He had pushed the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows. You moved closer, watching the muscles of his forearms flex and move as his fingers pressed against the keys.

“I didn’t know you played,” You said as his hands came to a slow stop.

“Eh, I used to,” His shoulder lifted in a small shrug, “I don’t really anymore.”

“You’re very good,” You took another step closer, looking up at his face that was still cast down at the keys. There was the faintest line between his eyebrows, a tightness behind his eyes, “Why don’t you play anymore?”

“Have I ever mentioned I grew up Catholic?” He asked, placing his cane back against the ground and straightening up. He adjusted his weight, nudging slightly closer to you. Close enough that you had to tip your head back slightly to keep eye contact.

“No,” You shook your head, a little surprised at the sudden information, “I didn’t know that.”

“Yep, full-blooded Roman Catholic,” He clicked his tongue against his teeth and pulled in slow breath, “Are you religious? Do you know about Catholicism?”

“No,” You shook your head, you could count the times you remember going to church on one hand, “Not really. I mean, Joan of Arc was a saint, right? That’s probably all I know.”

“Yes, Joan of Arc was indeed a saint,” He laughed softly, “The cut and dry of it is that humans are inherently sinful by nature. It’s the way we are created and we must spend every moment of our lives atoning for that.”

He scoffed, shaking his head at the ground, “We are told that we deserve the bad that happens to us. That it is our fault…and when you are nine and different, that concept is a particularly deep cut.”

His hand tightened around the handle of his cane, the smooth wood creaking slightly. You reached out without thinking, fingers circling around his wrist. You held him gently, thumb smoothing over the pulse on the inside of his wrist, urging him to relax.

“So, instead of helplessly sitting through mass every week, I learned to play piano,” He shrugged like it was obvious, “My mother was thrilled that I was involving myself in the church, and by the time I was eleven I managed to sit at the piano every service and just…tune out. I pretended to listen, did what was asked, spent hours each week learning uninteresting melodies. All in an effort to escape the myriad of adults in my life telling me that if I served God, if I prayed hard enough, confessed my sins, I would be cured.”

He said the last word like a slur, corners of his mouth pulled down in a scowl, eyes distant. It made your heart sink. The image of him as a child, berated by religion. You resisted the urge to reach up and smooth the hurt on his face. You opted instead to move your hand up his arm, giving a gentle squeeze to the back of his forearm. The motion was enough to bring him back to the present. He sucked in a sharp breath, almost stepping back as he shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” A rueful laugh split past his lips, and he cleared his throat, “I’m sorry, you didn’t ask about that. Um, I learned to play when I was a kid for a purpose. I don’t need to play anymore, so I don’t. That’s it.”

“Hey, no, don’t apologize.” You held him where he was as he tried to move away, “Thank you for telling me that… I’m sure it’s not fun to talk about,” You scoffed lightly, knowing full well you avoided conversations about aspects of your childhood like the plague, “and I know it probably doesn’t help, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

He cast a sad look down at you. Doubtful.

“Really, listen, I know you didn’t ask my opinion,” You laughed softly, squeezing his arm again, “But I think that is incredibly fucked up, and I’m sorry you had to go through that, and I’m glad that you found something to help you through it.”

He let out a huff through his nose and was chewing on the inside of his lip, clearly nervous. You could tell that he felt exposed, let himself be vulnerable without meaning to. You stepped closer and looped an arm around his waist, turning the both of you towards the piano.

“What were you playing?” You asked, hoping to set him at ease, “It was very pretty.”

“Oh, uh, it was Leoš Janáček,” He told you, tension releasing from his shoulders as you leaned into him, “He’s one of the more well known composers of Czechia.”

He played the first few notes again, slowly, “Naše večery, it’s the first piece in a piano cycle. Written around…1900 I believe.”

“Hm, it’s beautiful,” You greeted the way he relaxed into you as he played, your hand resting gently against his waist as you watched his hands move, “Naše večery…what does that mean?”

“Our Evenings,” He told you, “It would sound better on a true piano.”

“Oh, well, be careful what you wish for,” You joked, looking up at his face with a smirk on his lips, “If you find one to play at, I’ll make you play the whole cycle.”

“You have an hour to spare, just for me?” He joked, raising an eyebrow at you under his arm.

“Always,” You rolled your eyes, laughing like it was a joke. Laughing like you wouldn’t drop everything in a heartbeat for him if he asked.

A well-timed phone call prevented you from thinking too much about that fact. You didn’t move away from him when you picked it up.

“Hey, did you get them already?” Ekko’s voice asked on the other end.

“Oh, no I was waiting for you to text,” You pulled the phone away and realized he had replied, several times, “Sorry, I got distracted. Which ones do you want?”

You tried to hide your disappointment as you pulled away from Viktor. You could hear him trailing behind you as you moved back to where the sticks were.

You grabbed the sticks he wanted (a pack of hickory, and a pair of oak to test), the strings you needed for your guitar, and a neon pink bass strap as a gift for Jinx. All the while Viktor hovered near your side, fingers brushing against your waist or the inside of your wrist. It wasn’t clear why until you reached the counter to pay. When the teenage cashier made eye contact with your chest first, you realized why Viktor hooked his arm strongly around your waist. You watched the kid take notice of Viktor’s presence, glancing away quickly as he met Viktor’s gaze. You pretend not to notice why his head stayed down for the rest of the interaction.

“Don’t tell her I said this,” You said lowly as you walked away from the counter, still firmly in Viktor’s grasp, “but you’re certainly a better guard dog than Lest.”

He made a triumphant little noise in the back of his throat and squeezed your waist as you walked to the truck.

-----

The rest of the afternoon had been easy enough. Back at the house, Jayce helped you load Ekko’s drums and the rest of the equipment needed for tonight into the back of your truck. Viktor helped you double and triple check your list to guarantee nothing had been forgotten. At The Last Drop, Vander and Sevika had been kind enough to help you set up the stage, something you had allotted a couple hours to when you thought you’d be doing it yourself. You even had time to go all the way back to your dorm to shower and change properly.

The stage was set. The party was ready for after. Jinx and Ekko were on time. Soundcheck went smoothly. The bar had filled up. The sky above the outdoor stage was clear. Everything was great. So great, in fact, that you hadn’t even the notion to be anxious. Not until right now.

You let out a nervous laugh, thrown off guard by the tears that pricked at your eyes and the ways your hands shook. You bent over, steading your hands against your thighs and trying to calm yourself down. You tried to focus on the lowkey sound of the opening duo. From the backside of the speakers, their acoustics were drowned out by the rumble of the large and still growing crowd in front of the stage. It filled your ears coupled with the rush of blood, making your head spin. You tried to think of the things your dad had taught you growing up. Grounding exercise to pull you out of a panic attack. It was too loud, though. You couldn't focus on the timing of each breath or your surroundings. Even in the open space behind the outdoor stage you felt caged in, like the sky was pressing into your back.

You forced your eyes open. Focusing on what you could see in your direct vision. The hem of your skirt, first, the flowy fabric brushing against the bottom of your shins. Then your hightops, the black canvas well worn in and pen marks covering the dirty rubber. The laces were looped around your ankles, keeping them secured tighter than they needed to be. You shifted, feeling the gravel crunch beneath your soles. Dark rocks made to let water drain into the earth below instead of pooling. You reached down and picked a small one up just as a hand came to rest against the curve of your back.

“You doing okay?” It was Ekko, voice soft as he checked in.

“Huh? Oh, yeah I’m okay,” You straightened, hoping your voice was more convincing out loud than it was in your head. You realized there wasn’t a good reason to lie to Ekko of all people, “Sorry, just nerves, ya know.”

“Why?” He asked, hand falling to his side.

“Why what?” You tilted your head.

“Why are you nervous?” He prodded.

“I…I don’t know,” You shrugged, “Because I am.”

“That’s a horrible answer. Really, what do you have to be nervous about?” He scoffed before going into a laundry list, “You know the songs front to back, we’ve practiced everything a hundred times, sound check went fine, the crowd is full of our friends, and your hair looks great.”

He flipped a hand through your hair dramatically then placed both big hands on your shoulders.

“This is supposed to be fun.” He said seriously, then began shaking you around by the shoulders until you started laughing, he cracked a smile, “This. Will. Be. Fun.”

“Stop Ekko, stop!” You laughed, grabbing his wrists and trying to break free, “Fine, fine. I’m not nervous anymore, happy?”

“Good,” He slung an arm over your shoulder, weighing you down, “Because we’re on in like five minutes.”

“Fuck,” You gasped, looking towards the stage.

Before you could descend back into panic, Jinx was barreling towards you and Ekko. She threw her arms around both of you, shoving her head between yours and Ekko’s and hugging you tight enough to hurt.

“I am so excited!” Jinx was practically vibrating as she pulled away, hands still on both of you, “This is going to be so fun!”

Jinx thrived on adrenaline. Her energy was overpowering. It was impossible to not let it infect you, something you were glad for. You felt the nervous energy leech from your bones. A shaky excitement taking its place.

“You ready?” Ekko asked her, unwinding himself from your side and playing his hands on her shoulders, she nodded eagerly, “You have picks in your pocket?”

She reached into the pocket of her pants and pulled out an absurd amount of picks. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if she managed to go through most of them during the show. Ekko nodded affirmingly then pulled her into his chest, strong arms flexing as he held her tight, speaking just to her.

You smiled fondly at the couple and moved away to get yourself ready. Your freshly restringed guitar was waiting on the stage. You had picks in your pocket. Your water was filled. You had eaten. Your shoes were tied. You were physically as ready as you could be.

‘This will be fun,’ you told yourself. You loved playing, especially with Jinx and Ekko. Performing wasn’t necessarily your favorite thing in the world, but you had a good time during your few shows over the summer. Your friends were right in the front. Jayce and Mel and Lest and…and Viktor. You realized that the thought of him watching you made you nervous. What a stupid feeling to have. What a childish feeling to have. Nervous about doing something in front of a boy like you were 14 or something. He had already seen you play. Multiple times, even. Him and Jayce frequently set up in the garage while you and the others rehearsed.

Even early today he had twirled calmly on a stool in the garage, watching you intently as you tested the second hand loop pedal. He had never given you a reason to be nervous under his eyes. Still, you wondered what he would think seeing you actually on stage. Would he think you looked awkward? Uncomfortable and out of place on stage. Maybe you’d be too stiff, or too loose even. You wanted to claw your hair out. Before you could dwell on the idea any longer, Jinx grabbed you by the hand, dragging you quickly to the stage stairs.

“Ready? She asked, eyes glowing.

You took a heavy breath, twisting your sneaker into the gravel to ground yourself. You gave a nod and a smile that you hoped didn’t look forced, “As we’ll ever be.”

The opener bounced off stage, wishing Jinx a happy birthday and the rest of you good luck. Jinx went first onto stage, you and Ekko only a few steps behind her. She was on the mic in an instant. You vaguely listened to her as you set up your guitar, grateful for the moments it took to plug into the amp and test the strings. You took a few deep breaths, checking that the setlist and equipment around your feet were still secured down before glancing up. The crowd was luckily obscured past the first ten feet, the lights on you not giving you much visibility. You did catch sight of your friends, right where they said they’d be in the front row. Viktor was between Lest and Jayce, watching you. You blinked at him, giving a weak smile. He gave a strong one in return, all pretty teeth and encouragement. You were surprised how much it put you at ease. You let out a heavy breath and felt yourself relax again, in a way that you were sure would last.

You glanced over to Jinx, tuning in as you adjusted the height of your mic.

“Just in case you don’t know,” Jinx said to the crowd, bass held around her neck by the new strap you had bought her, “Today is my twenty-first fucking birthday!”

The crowd cheered for her. Shouts of ‘happy birthdays’ and dramatic ‘we love yous’ thrown her way. You laughed as she basked in the attention, falsely waving them away.

“And to celebrate that!” Jinx said into the mic, then paused to lean down to one of the amps, pulling out three sealed plastic cups. She went back to the mic, “With the company of my beautiful bandmates, I’m gonna do my first shot.” Then lower away from the mic, “legally.”

Ekko climbed down from his drum platform, letting Jinx hand him one of the premade shots before she bounded over to give you yours. It was one of those twisted shots, blue and pink liquor separated by a swirl of plastic.

“A pornstar shot, really?” You laughed into the mic, looking over at Jinx.

“Hey! They’re pink and blue!” Jinx defended, also speaking into the mic, letting the conversation be part of the performance, “I’ve gotta stay on brand.”

You shrugged in agreement, peeling off the foil top and sniffing it experimentally. They brought back freshman year memories of dorm parties and running around campus in the dark. Jinx settled next to you, slightly in front to keep from hitting you with the neck of her bass.

She lifted her shot, you and ekko mimicking the motion, “To a good show and an after party none of us remember,” The crowd in front of you lifted whatever drinks they had as the three of you downed the shots. The overly sweet alcohol made your nose burn. Jinx laughed, taking in the cheers as the three of you retake your proper spots on stage.

“Now let’s get this show fucking started,” Jinx plucked a few strings on her bass, testing the sound. She looked over to you and when you gave a confirming nod, she gave the same look to Ekko. He set the tempo on the drum for a few beats, counting down verbally before you and Jinx joined in. Together playing the opening to Darla by Vundabar.

Once your hands were on the strings and the chords poured from the speaker towards the crowd, any worry you had was gone. You felt light, high almost, as you played. Moving around to the beat of the song, mouthing half the lyrics to yourself as Jinx sang them.

After the first song, all three of you were in it. Any drop of uncertainty leaching out with the sweat on your skin as you played. It was easy, you floated through the setlist, hands knowing the chords and timing perfectly. You played and sang your back up vocals, taking control of a full verse here and there. It wasn’t until the middle of the set that the attention was fully on you. An almost original song. A derivative work technically, lyrics written by Ekko set to a slightly altered composition of a Dystopia song.

Jinx was in love with this one, she had coaxed her dad into letting her play with the lighting just a little bit. The light dimmed slowly as you set for the song, adjusting settings on amps and Ekko preparing extra sticks. You plucked a cigarette out of the pack in your pocket, placing it in your lips as you crouched down on the edge of the stage. Right in front of Viktor.

You didn’t say anything, just rested your guitar in your lap and let the bottom of your skirt pool against the ground around you. You didn’t need to search for eye contact, it was there in an instant. Only seconds later when he was stepping closer and holding a flame up to you. You didn’t look away from him when you took the drag and blew the smoke down to his face.

Without so much as a word you stood back to the audience as the lights reached their end, only blue spotlights on you, Jinx, and Ekko remaining. The chords rang out exactly as you had wanted them, low and haunting as Ekko shimmered the cymbals of his set. This was your favorite song to play. Your favorite to practice, to show off to people.

It felt good to play it in front of everyone. Felt better knowing how you were playing in front of him.

------

That feeling carried you to the end of the show. Carried you even when Viktor politely moved to the bar at the back of the crowd to lean against a stool. He gave a reassuring wave from where he sat, knuckles pressing into his thigh. Carried you through breakdown, carried you to your truck packed with gear, carried you to the Rune Street house where the boys unloaded you truck while you changed in Cait’s room.

Carried you until you finally stopped moving. You leaned against the kitchen sink, body heavy as you sipped at a solo cup of tap water. You took slow breaths, staring at a spot on the floor as you tried to bring yourself back up from the ground. The excited and already intoxicated people around you did nothing to help. You stayed in the twilight zone until a pale hand waved in front of your face.

“Visiting another universe tonight?” Viktor asked as you snapped your head up to look at him.

“Sorry,” You shook your head, blinking like you had just woken from sleep, “Sorry, I just…zoned out.”

“Hm, well welcome back,” He laughed softly, moving closer to you as someone tried to squeeze around his back to get through the kitchen. He stayed close even when the person was gone, he even leaned in further. Shouting over the music, “You did great tonight. You played incredibly.”

“Thank you, that’s very sweet,” You smiled up at him, still feeling weak.

He caught on quickly, steadying a hand on your shoulder, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You tried to wave it off, he narrowed his eyes at you, “I’m just tired is all, kinda crashing.”

“That’s reasonable,” He frowned, then pulled away, just enough to fish a silver key from his pocket and hold it out to you, “My room is the only one that locks, you can crash in there for a bit if you’d like.”

It was a tempting offer, but you knew if you tried to sleep now you’d be out until morning, “I’m okay,” You told him, “I wanna hang, just gotta power through.”

“Well in that case,”

He put the key back in his pocket and reached past you, grabbing a cup from the stack and setting it on the counter next to the fridge. He took your cup from your hands and dumped the water out, setting it next to his. You were finally taking him in now. Too spaced to notice his wardrobe change post-show. Jinx’s party was rave themed, the music and lights and outfits all reflecting this.

Apparently, Viktor was not excluded. You remembered Ekko offering his close to Jayce and Viktor, his style being that of someone who actually went to raves. This was not what you had expected, though. Viktor, who only ever wore the most reserved of outfits, was in jeans that were purposefully too big, except for where they rested between his hips and waist. Cut outs in the side, just below the belt line, showed off completely the line and curve of his narrow hips. Pale skin practically glowing in the light of the fridge as Viktor opened it. It was cut in such a way that there was no chance he was wearing anything underneath the jeans. And almost more jarring was the fact that Viktor was wearing a crop top. The fairly normal t-shirt came to a harsh stop right at his navel, showing off the softest of happy trails and curve of muscle. You had seen him undressed before. You’ve seen him in less clothing than this even, at the coast. Nothing you were witnessing was new to you, but there was just something about it. About how intentional every bare inch was.

You glanced away harshley, realizing you were very obviously staring at his body as he rummaged around in the fridge. He pulled out two narrow cans and set them on the counter. You picked one up, the cold condensation biting at your hand.

“Red Bull?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Patience,” He scolded, grabbing the can and setting it back down on the counter.

He slid open the freezer drawer and moved things around, pulling a glass bottle out from underneath an ancient bag of frozen vegetables. He set it to the side, the clear liquor inside reflecting the lights in the room. All the labeling was in Czech. He dumped the energy drinks into the cups and then twisted the cap of the liquor with a satisfying pop.

“Don’t tell anyone I let you have this,” He told you, pouring a hearty shot into his cup, “They’ll make me share with them too.”

“Oh, so I’m special?” You joked, he gave you a look that very loudly screamed well, obviously. He paused to size you up for a moment, and came to the conclusion that half a shot would do. You scoffed, “Hey, I’m not a lightweight.”

“Eh, maybe not,” He said, “But this is not American liquor, and you are not a European woman.”

“Would you prefer I was?” You joked, rolling your eyes as he added another splash to his own drink before recorking it.

“Of course not,” He held the cup out to you, “Na zdravi!”

You bit back a smile when you repeated the words and tapped the edge of your cup against his. He watched you hesitantly, cup hovering near his lips as he waited for you to take a sip. When you did, you were admittedly surprised at the strength of the small shot. You were even more surprised at the amount that he had poured into his own cup.

“Christ, Vik,” You gasped, trying not to flinch at the burn, “You’re gonna go blind.”

“See, I told you” He laughed, taking a sip of his own drink with ease, “Only a small amount for the American. If it’s too much I can add more Red Bull.”

“No, it’s good,” You sipped again, taking the liquor better now that you were ready for it, “Thank you for being my bartender tonight,”

“What, no tip?” He teased, smirking down at you.

“Unfortunately, these shorts leave no space for my wallet,” You ran a hand over the side of the tight silvery shorts you had changed into. So tight you had even foregone underwear beneath them, “Next time.”

“I’m sure,” He leaned in to avoid shouting as the music and crowd became louder, he reached out and ran a finger over the waistband of the shorts, “I mean, I’m sure a few dollar bills could fit here, no?” His hand dropped lower down your side, fingertips brushing against the top of your thigh high socks, “Maybe here even?”

You slapped his hand away, “Not nice to imply I’m a stripper,” You pouted as he laughed and waved a hand in front of himself defensively.

“I kid, I swear,” He assured, “Where did you even get these clothes anyways?”

“It’s October in America, baby,” You laughed, “there's a halloween store taking up residence in every empty building in the country right now.”

“Yes, I forget about the holiday here,” He shrugged, “It’s not a large thing in Czechia.”

“Yeah, I know, Europe is lame like that,” You joked, turning your nose up.

“Is that so,” He questioned, then reached out to take your drink from you, “Then I guess you don’t like the European liquor if it’s so lame then…”

“Wait no,” You giggled, trying to reach for the cup as he held it away from you, “No I lied, I swear.”

He laughed and relinquished the cup back to you. You gratefully took another sip, holding eye contact with him to prove you liked it.

“That’s what I thought.” He leaned back against the fridge, “Tell me if you want another,”

You nodded, then reached out and tugged the high hem of his shirt, “I like this, by the way, suits you.”

“Hm, that so?” You asked, dipping his chin to examine his own outfit, “I tried for something a little more low-key, but Jayce wasn’t having it.”

“Ah, I imagine he’s dressed even sluttier?” You barked a laugh.

“Oh of course,” Viktor nodded with wide eyes, “are you saying I’m a slut?”

“No, of course not,” You shrugged, “Just that you are dressed like a slut.”

“I don't think it’s that slutty,” He looked down at his outfit, again.

“What’s this then?” You slid a hand down his side, gripping his bare hip where t was exposed by the cutout, “This is pretty slutty, especially for a man.”

“And what’s your opinion of that?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Of what?”

“Of slutty men?” His eyes darkened, “Is that something you enjoy?”

“Who doesn’t,” You said innocently, taking another sip in hopes of hiding your blush.

“Hm, good to know,” He hummed, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. He leaned in just a touch more, mouth open to continue his sentence when Jayce was suddenly right next to you, a hand on Viktor’s shoulder.

The intrusion made you jump, nearly spilling your drink as you flinched away.

“Hey, oh sorry,” Jayce said, realizing he had barged in. He was wasted already, pretty cheeks already flushed red. He was indeed somehow dressed sluttier than Viktor. A mesh top and chaps of all things, underneath only a pair of shimmery shorts, almost as tight as yours.

“What did I say?” Viktor laughed, looking down at you, you just widened your eyes in agreement.

“Huh?” Jayce tilted his head at the two of you.

“Nothing,” Viktor waved him off, “What’s up?”

“We need another person for beer pong,” Jayce told you both, “Are either of you down?”

You looked down at the still mostly full and very strong drink in your hand, “I’ll pass for now, maybe later if you guys play another round.”

“I’ll go,” Viktor told him with a shrug.

“Good,” Jayce clapped him on the shoulder, “You can be Sky’s partner.”

That twisted something in your chest, but you forced it away as you took another drink. Viktor just nodded and went to follow Jayce towards where the table was set up in the garage. He turned back to you when he realized you weren’t following.

“Are you not coming?” He tilted his head.

“No, it’s okay, I should probably go find Lest, actually,” You told him, trying to act casual, “You go, though, Defeat Jayce in my honor. I’ll find you later.”

“Okay,” He frowned slightly, hesitating before turning away to follow Jayce.

You watched him walk away, doing your bets to look unbothered. Even with him out of your proximity, the heat still lingered. You shoved your hand under the ice dispenser of the fridge, catching a cube and popping it into your mouth before wandering to the living room. You wanted to dance with Lest, or grind up against a stranger, anything to get him off your mind.

----

Hours later, when you became bored of fending off freshman boys on the dance floor, you found yourself watching Viktor from across the room like a fucking creep. You knew you were and you couldn’t help it. He looked great. In that stupid fucking crop top and insufferable pair of borrowed jeans. He looked great and so did Sky. She looked great in the electric blue outfit you had helped her pick out. She looked great laughing and fanning her alcohol warmed cheeks.

She looked great with her hands all over Viktor. Playing with his neat hair. Rubbing a hand over his shoulder. Leaning half way on top of him every time she laughed.

The spot on Viktor’s other side was empty. You could claim it easily. Insert yourself into their conversation or, most likely, pull his attention completely to you. You could sideline her in an instant.

You had officially fucking lost it. You couldn’t believe you were pouting against the wall at a party. Face half hidden behind your cup, pretending to sip your sad mixture of three parts american vodka one part flat orange crush. Unrightfully angry at one of your closest friends.

She’d be fine, though. There were plenty of men who’d jump at the chance to sweep her off her feet, take her virginity, and propose before graduation. Why did she need to be so focused on him? Was she blind? Viktor was obsessed with you and you knew it. You had tried to discourage him at first. Some point since then and now, you had succumbed to the idea that you were just waiting for eachother. Well, more of him, waiting for you, but still. You couldn't break your composure, not even for someone like him.

Your ankles twitched, your angry body coaxing your drunk brain into a rash decision.

You couldn’t. It would be too obvious. Too fucking mean, like anything about this wasn’t already. You couldn't force it. He had to come to you. You could at least give him the option.

You brushed your fingertips against the side of your ear, ensuring that the cigarette you had tucked there earlier hadn't disappeared. You sent an innocent enough text - cig out back? - and walked out the back door before you could see him open the message. The ball was in his court now. You weren’t going to control him and he could make whatever decision he felt like. If he didn’t come, then you’d get a whole cigarette to yourself. A win-win situation, really.

Outside the sky was still dripping. The storm that had started shortly after the party and hadn’t really let up until now. The backyard was completely barren, everyone still crowded into the house and garage to keep out of the rain. You rounded the side of the house, opting to let the cool wet air clear away the stickiness from inside. You had barely rested your back against the siding when your name was being hissed into the dark.

“Over here,” You beckoned Viktor over to your corner of the yard.

You didn't need a whole cigarette anyways.

“Got a light?” You asked as he settled next to you, shoulder pressing to yours.

Wordlessly he pulled one from his pocket, holding the flame out in front of you. You pressed the cigarette to your lips and lent towards him. Eyes fell shut as you pulled the flame in, smoke filling your lungs.

“Where have you been?” You asked, smoke burning your nose as you exhaled and passed him the cigarette, “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Around,” He shrugged, taking the cigarette and bumping his shoulder against yours with a smirk, “You have been looking for me?”

“Shut up,” You muttered, hitting the back of your hand against his bare stomach.

“Ah, milá ,” He sighed, cigarette hanging from his lip as he grabbed your arm and pulled you to stand in front of him, “Jsi legrační dívka,”

His hands came to rest on the small of your back. You leaned against him, stealing back the cigarette from his mouth and taking a drag. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, eyes on your lips.

“Are you drunk?” You asked him, taking a quick drag and holding the cigarette between you for him to take.

“Eh, a little,” He blew smoke out of his nose. Hot. “Me and Jayce smoked earlier, but the high is fading. You?”

“Also a little,” You told him, reaching up to touch his face. You ghosted a fingertip over the mark above his lip. So pretty. So inviting.

You were drunk…enough. It didn’t count if you were drunk.

Your hand moved to his jaw and pulled him towards you, lips brushing against his softly. Tonight he chose you over Sky. Like you knew he would. The guilt was discarded as quickly as the half smoked cigarette when he pulled you closer. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding your flush to him as his mouth crashed against yours harder. You looped your arms over his shoulders, hands fisting into the back of his shirt as your lips parted. He didn’t waste the invitation, tongue pushing into your mouth with a gasp. He tasted like caffeine and tobacco and himself. Your head spun as he kissed you. His teeth pulled at your lower lip, eliciting a whine you hadn’t expected.

“Ah, fuck,” He panted, breaking away to beath. His hands slid down to grab your ass, pressing you harder against him. You could feel how hard he was already, heavy cock pressing against your lower stomach, “You’ll kill me one of these days.”

“No,” You laughed softly, licking his lips playfully, “I’d like to keep you around for a while, Pretty Boy.”

He groaned at the pet name, hips rutting up again just slightly. You moved one hand down his chest, reaching the bottom of the cropped shirt he wore and slipping underneath. You raked your nails over his stomach, delighted at the shudder you could feel in his shoulders. You buried your other hand in the hair at the back of his neck, holding him still as you kissed him again. Part of you hated how perfectly you fit together. How the shape of his nose pressed into your cheek exactly as it should. How his lips slotted against yours like they were made for you. How he was the perfect height to kiss you. How his hands were the perfect size to hold you. It made everything difficult having him so easily.

He wanted to be slow the first time, but he was clearly in a different mood tonight. You could barely breathe with how deep he kissed you. His tongue so wonderfully strong against yours, against your teeth and lips. The noises he made in the back of his throat went straight to the heat between your legs. You wanted to hear more.

You tighten the hand in his hair, fisting the chestnut strands and yanking his head back, rough but not enough to hurt. He gasped, breathing heavy as he let you ruin his hair.

“So good for me,” You purred, clamping your teeth down on the spot below his jaw, tongue smoothing over it a moment after.

“Only for you,” He muttered, voice barely there, “God, only for fucking you.”

“Fuck,” You smiled, licking from the collar of his shirt up to his chin, “God you taste so fucking good. Wanna taste all of you,”

You resisted the urge to suck a love bite into his neck as you pressed yourself against him harder, canting your hips just enough to make him hiss, “Let me taste you, baby?”

“F-fuck,” He shuddered, flinching as your cold fingers brushed against the skin exposed by the cutouts in the side of the jeans. The skin you had been eyeing all night. The cutouts you had already expressed your admiration for.

“Please Vik,” You practically begged as you mouthed at his neck, hands flatting against his hips, fingers under the edge of the denim, “Let me get on my knees for you.”

“God, fuck,” He whimpered, dropping his head to pull you into another kiss, “Are you sure? You don’t have to.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” You laughed against his lips, hands moving to the sides of his face. His heavy lidded eyes met yours, pupils blown wide, “I want to. I want you in my throat.”

He couldn’t help the sound that slipped past his lips, desperate and wanting as he dropped his head into your neck, muffling the sound against your hair.

“Ano. Ano, kurvo ano,” He panted, you had been friends with him long enough to not need a translation.

“Good boy,” You said, mouth next to his ear, “Lean back for me.”

You left open mouthed kisses down his throat, palming him through his jeans. When you couldn’t reach any more of his skin from the position you were in, you slid to your knees. The wet grass soaked the knees of your socks. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, enjoying the fucked out look on his face. You hadn’t even touched him yet he was already flushed and trembling in front of you. You loved it.

You pressed a kiss to the skin exposed on his hips, your hand on the other side. You licked at his soft skin, thrilled to find the presence of slight moles hiding there. You bit down hard enough to leave a mark, Viktor’s hips canted forward, apologies spilling past his lips. You ignored him, your hands rubbing over his hips to grip his ass and then rub down his legs. Your palm caught on the ridge of his brace. Hidden completely under his jeans, you had all but forgotten it.

You ran your hand up his leg gently, sitting back slightly to look at him softly, “Are you okay like this? Are you hurting?”

��I am alright, milá,” Voice gentle even as he panted heavily, hand reaching out to cup your face, “I’m perfectly good.”

You couldn’t help but to lean into his touch, humming against his palm, “You’ll tell me if this doesn’t work, yeah?”

“Promise?” You asked leaning past his hand and pressed your cheek to his front. You could feel him twitch against your face. You breathed him in, the heady scent making your thighs tense.

“I promise,” His voice came out strained and breathy.

It was enough to break you. You pulled back enough to unzip his jeans and shimmy them a couple inches down. You pulled him out, cock heavy and leaking in your hands. You hummed to yourself, admiring him. You had forgotten exactly what he looked like, but you were surprised how big and pretty he was. He was more worked up now than last time, entire cock a pretty shade of pink that darkened gradually up to his tip. You looked up, watching him as you dragged your thumb over his tip, spreading precum and getting more to drip as he twitched. He gasped, chin dropping to his chest as he tried to keep himself up right. You used the slick to coat your hand and slide your fist down his shaft, watching as his whole body flinched at the feeling. He was clay in your hands, trusting you to handle him.

You parted your lips, still watching intently as you gave an experimental lick to the tip of his cock. You couldn’t have dreamed of this noise he made, shocked and desperate and shaky as you dipped down and licked a broad strip along the veins on the underside. You used the point of your tongue to tease the base of his head, swirling over the crease there. His hands fisted at his sides, barely able to keep his eyes open as you tasted him. And he tasted heavenly. Sweet and bitter at the same time, and like his lips, very much like him.

You were sure he could have come from just the sight of you holding his head against your flat tongue, catching pearls of cum from his weeping tip. When you closed your lips round him, he was loud. He sucked in a sharp breath, groaning heavy at the feeling of your warm mouth around just a small part of him. His hand flew to his mouth, trying to hold back the sounds.

You pulled off, making him whine as you pouted up at him, “I want to hear you. Please Vik, please let me hear you.”

“Fuck, we’re outside,” He panted, glancing towards the fence that faced the front of the house.

“It’s fine,” You urged, “Please, baby I promise. Everyone is inside, no one’s gonna hear you.”

Before he could respond, you wrapped your lips around him again, this time pushing on to him until he was almost to your back teeth. He cried out, stomach muscles tensing as you hollow your cheeks around him, releasing the tension with a gente pop.

“Oh fuck, milá,” His hands flexing at his sides.

You hummed around him, corners of your mouth turned up in as much of a smile as you could do. The vibration of your throat sent him shaking again. Fingers twitching just next to your head.

“Sensitive are we?” You pulled off and teased, one hand moving steadily up and down, the other cupping his balls, “You can grab my hair, just don’t push on me, okay?”

“Are you sure,” Hesitation hid behind the eagerness, all nerves about hurting you.

“Yes, Pretty Boy,” You breathed, lips ghosting over his cock again, “I trust you.”

Genty he gathered your hair into his fist, holding the strands back from your face. The tension on your scalp grew when you pulled him as far into your throat as you could. You took steady breaths through your nose, unable to help the moans that pushed out of your lungs at the feeling of him twitching just for you. You moved your tongue over him, eyelids fluttering shut at the feeling of his precum dripping down the back of your throat. You steadied yourself against his good leg, a hand wrapped around the back of his thigh as you began to move, your other hand gliding over what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. He did as you asked, hand tangled in your hair, but not controlling your movements.

You studied him. Taking note of how he reacted to each movement, each slight gag around his cock, each flick of your tongue. The best noises came from when you took as much of him as you could and sucked around him, head moving only slightly. He gasped, uttering nonsense and curses and your name as he basked in the feeling. You wanted more and pulled him farther in in search of it, tears welling in your eyes as he reached the complete back of your throat. You steadied yourself, taking a moment to adjust before swallowing around him.

This made him cry out, knees almost buckling and hips rutting up involuntarily. He cursed, eyes wide as he apologized. You waved him off with a hum, swallowing again before you began to bob your head. You let your eyes fall shut, focusing on the weight of him in your throat and the sounds he was making above you. You could feel the tension in his muscles build under your hand on his leg. He was so close. Just a few motions away. You weren’t done, though.

With gasp you pulled off, circling your fingers just under the head of his cock. Forcing him away from the edge. You panted, pulling in more oxygen than through your nose.

“Ah, fuck. Why?” He whimpered, sounding like he could cry.

“Trust me, Vik,” You assured, pressing your cheek to the top of his thigh and looking up through your lashes, “It’s gonna feel so good, just be patient for me, baby.”

“God, you’re so fucking beautful,” He reached down, brushing a thumb under your eye where yur mascara was blurring.

“You’re sweet,” You hummed, pressing your lips to the base of his cock, mouthing at him as your hand stroked over him again, “So good for me.”

You raised your hand, lifting him enough for you to have access to lick over his balls. He groaned at the feeling and you heard a soft thud as he dropped his head back against the wall. You replaced your mouth with your hand, gently squeezing him in time with the thrust of your hand. You licked up from the base to tip, not wasting time in bringing him back between your lips.

Velvet, you realized. His skin felt like velvet under your tongue. You moaned around him, pressing your thighs together as you sank further unto him. You picked up your pace, making obscene sounds as you moved up and down his length. You had wanted to go slow at first, but this pace was for you, too. You couldn’t help it. You chased his release with an eager tongue, anticipating him.

“Ah, I’m close, Lasko,” He gasped, hips twitching in the tiniest of bucks, not letting himself get too carried away. His hand tightened in your hair, trying to pull you off before he came.

You made a noise of protest, pushing him to the back of your throat again and looking up at. Eyes narrowed as you made clear what you wanted.

“Oh fuck,” His voice was thick with a mix of his accent and lust. He let you grab his hand, braced against his stomach as you began to move again, “You are heaven sent.”

His jaw hung open as you continued the pace, slowing down every couple of thrusts to swallow around his tip. He took short strained breaths as you pulled him closer and closer. Pitch of his voice canting up as he moaned, the whimpers that slipped past his lips making your own wetness pool between your legs.

He cried out as he finally came, whole body tense as you slowed your movements. You held him in the perfect place in your mouth, cum painting the back of your throat and mixing with spit on your tongue. You groaned, breathing heavy through your nose as you took everything he had to give. The taste was addictive, you could've stayed here forever on your knees, his slightly bitter cum filling your mouth.

Eventually, Viktor hissed in near pain. The feeling of your warm mouth around his oversensitive cock too much to handle. Gently he tugged on your hair, coaxing you off him.

“Come here,” He held your arm steady as you stood on shaking legs, your knees aching from holding your weight for so long.

“Was that good?” You asked like you didn’t already know the answer, pulling you swollen bottom lip between your teeth.

“There is a special place for you in heaven,” He told you, hands grasping the sides of your face and forehead dropping to yours. You could feel the cool sheen of sweat over his body, it made the short hair curl where you played with it at the base of his neck.

“Hm, so sweet to me,” You cooed, reaching down and tucking him away gently, deciding it probably wasn’t a great idea for him to just hang around with his dick out.

He tilted his chin, catching your lips with his. His tongue pushed into your mouth where he surely tasted himself. He let out a shaky breath against your mouth, lips pulled back but tongue still pressed against yours. He kissed you deep, hands moving down to your waist pulling you flush against him as he practically ate out your mouth.

You let the sounds you were making go, letting him hear how he made you feel. Without warning, he gripped you tight and spun you around, pressing your back to the house. He braced his weight with one arm against the wall behind you. He was still licking into your mouth as the other hand dropped between your bodies. He pushed his hand past the waistband of your shorts, cold fingers making you gasp as they came in contact with your cunt.

“Oh, fuck, Vik,” You keened, jaw dropping as he slid his hand further into your shorts, fingers teasing at your entance before retreating back to your clit.

Careful he pulled his arm off the wall, gently smearing away the ruined makeup beneath your eyes. He dropped his forehead to yours, breathing in every pant you gave, watching you intently as you gasped and rutted your hips into his hand. He moved his arm back to the wall, steading himself for you as he pressed two long fingers in, curling them in a way that made you see white.

“So fucking wet,” He breathed, eyes barley open, “soaked just from sucking my cock, God so fucking dirty.”

You whimpered, one hand holding onto his arm above your shoulders, fingers surely bruising his flesh where you pressed. The other hand fisted in the back of his hair, pulling him close enough to kiss. You tried to muffle yourself with his lips, moaning directly into his mouth, biting down on his lip when you felt yourself getting louder.

“Hm, not fair,” He scolded, realizing what you were doing, “Let me hear you. Only sound I ever need to hear again.”

Oh, how you loved incoherent orgasm induced poetry.

He dragged his fingers in and out of you at a teasing pace, his thumb pressed to your clit. Each tiny motion of his hand brought you closer and closer. His name tumbled from your lips, everything about him clouding your cells.

You almost didn’t hear the slide of the back door.

You gasped pulling away from him with wide eyes, head smacking against the siding as you did so. The hand on the wall cupped the back of your head, holding the sore spot you caused yourself. The other retreated swiftly, the heel of his hand resting against your waist, sure to keep his soaked fingers from ruining your clothes. You blinked at him, trying to calm your breathing enough to hear. Behind your pulse you heard footsteps on the wooden deck, they stopped right before the stairs. You hadn’t realized until now that the air was cold enough to see your breath. His and yours formed a cloud between you, white condensation huffed from your lungs as you waited.

Lest’s voice shouting your name into the dark made your heart sink. You loved her, but right now you could kill her.

Reluctantly, Viktor stepped away from you, dry hand steadying your waist. You grabbed the other, pulling his fingers up to your lips and hastily licking yourself off them. He swallowed hard, then surged forward, kissing you through his hand, tongue running between his fingers and against yours.

He pulled away, wiping his spit covered hand against his jeans as you adjusted your clothes. Your name rang again from the porch, you could hear the creak of the top step. You glanced down at yourself and shrugged. Disheveled for sure, but it’d have to be good enough.

You grabbed Viktor by the chin, thumb brushing over his bottom lip, “Catch you later, Pretty Boy.”

You pressed a quick kiss to his open lips and darted away. Shaking out your hair and continuing to adjust your clothes as you went to Lest. She shouted your name a third time.

“Yeah, I’m coming!” You told her, picking up your pace.

‘If only’, you thought, frowning to yourself.

-----

At some point, you realized you were done. No amount of vodka redbulls or dancing or drinking games were gonna keep you on your feet. The party was still thriving well past the hours when it would normally end. You were coming down from everything and needed to be somewhere that wasn’t a hot sticky crowded house.

You wandered to the front porch. The rain had stopped, but the air was just as cool as earlier. You sank down to sit on the edge of the stairs, the rough concrete catching on the fabric of your shorts. You pulled your knees up and leaned back on your palm, basking in the cool air and watching as the moon slowly came in and out of view behind the clouds. The muffled sound of music and people was relaxing. You liked the feeling of disconnecting, but still being nearby.

You stayed like that for who knows how long, letting goosebumps crawl up your sore thighs and arms. Breathing slowly and occasionally moving out of the way for the few people that came in and out through the front door. You closed your eyes, leaning back and paying no mind when the door opened once again, music growing loud for a second before it was once again muffled.

“You’ll catch your death out here,” Viktor’s accent told you, you laughed softly at the phrasing, “Are you not freezing?”

“Hm, I’m cold, but not freezing,” You told him, not opening your eyes until you felt a jacket being placed over your shoulders, you snorted a laugh, “Thank you.”

“Hm, you should take better care of yourself,” He said, sitting down next to you, using his cane to lower himself slowly, “We have a big project next week, it’ll suck to be down a person,”

“How thoughtful,” You rolled your eyes and sat up next to him, knees closer to your chest.

“Any time, milá,” He muttered what you were beginning to recognize as a pet name in his native language, “Anytime.”

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. With his jacket over you and him this close, you were dizzy with the smell of him. Obsessed with it.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asked, taking your hand from where it rested in your lap. He pressed his thumb into your palm, long fingers moving against yours, brushing against the newly forming calluses on your fingertips, “Why are you out here all alone?”

“Just wanted to be alone,” You told him, closing your eyes and leaning into him further.

“Would you like me to leave?” He asked, sincere and unoffended.

You grabbed his hand, holding it tight as you shook your head against him, “No, please don’t.”

He didn’t need any more convincing than that. He slid slightly closer, the side of his body pressing to yours. He gently pulled his hand from yours, sliding his arm to your back, hand resting at the nape of your neck as he brushed his fingers through the fine hair there. You hummed, pressing closer to him, nearly overwhelmed with how nice it felt to be next to him like this.

“Can I tell you something?” He asked, voice slightly hesitant as he broke the comfortable silence.

“Of course,” You’d like him to tell you everything.

“Sky asked me out yesterday,” He said it quietly but quickly, you tried not to react but you knew he could feel the way you tensed.

“I’m not surprised,” You told him, forcing yourself to sit up and look at his face, “What did you tell her?”

You hoped your face didn’t give away too much. He could go out with Sky if he wanted. You and him were not technically together. Sharing liquor and drunk blowjobs didn’t count as a relationship.

“I…I told her I’d get back to her,” He flinched at his own words, guilt creasing his pretty face, “Which is an absolute dick move, but I panicked.”

“Well, if you like her,” You shrugged like it didn’t matter, “then you should go out with her. There’s no reason not to.”

He frowned, chewing on the inside of his lip, “And if I don’t like her?”

“Then why would you go on a date with her?” If stung. Like it was an option. Of course it was an option, you knew that, you didn’t have any right to be upset with him.

He huffed, “You are making this difficult,”

“Viktor, I can not make decisions for you,” You told him sternly, not upset with him, just frustrated.

“I know, I’m sorry,” He shook his head, scoffing a laugh, “I shouldn’t have said that. Forget I said anything, I’ll handle it.”

You were pretty sure you knew what that meant. You did understand where he was coming from. Getting asked out by someone you weren't interested in was tough, even more so when that person was a friend.

“Good,” You nodded, and leaned back into him, tone turned teasing, “now will you stop trying to ruin the moment, this feels good.”

‘Hm, such a brat,” He joked back, you could feel the tension leach out of him, “Always getting what she wants.”

You scoffed, hitting him lightly on the leg.

“You deserve it, though, don’t you?” His voice dropped, so soft against your ear when he turned his head slightly, nose pressed to your temple, “You’ve done so much for everyone today.”

His hand moved from its place on your back, moving back in front of him to rest on your knee. You took a shaky breath as he pressed a kiss to your temple, the pressure against your pulse dizzying.

“Vik,” You warned, voice barely there as his hand moved up your thigh, stopping at the edge of your socks.

He ran his thumb over the elastic pressing into your thigh, over the small dip it made in your flesh. Slowly he pushed his fingers under the fabric, making more contact with the soft skin of your leg and squeezing gently.

“Hm, you deserve to be taken care of,” He hummed, fingers kneading into your flesh, perfect against your arguable sore muscles, “You do so much for other people.”

You couldn’t help the shuddery breath that slipped past your lips. He pressed another kiss to the side of your face, dropping his head to press his nose against the spot under your ear. You felt his teeth graze across your skin, tongue there only a moment later.

“Let me take care of you,” He practically begged, hand moving out from under your sock and up your thigh. His breath was hot against your skin, you could feel his eyelashes brush against you, “Stay with me tonight, oh god please stay with me tonight.”

The desperation in his voice went directly to your core, you resisted the urge to press your thighs together. You couldn’t believe he was making you feel like this a second time tonight.

“Viktor,” Your voice came out breathier than you had meant it to.

He pulled his face away from your neck, meeting your eyes as his hand traveled even higher up, and dipped lower between your thighs. Only inches away from where he had been for only a few moments earlier tonight. His face was so close to yours, lips still slightly red from when you had kissed him hours ago. His pupils were blown wide, eyes hooded as he stared at you. Stars in his eyes.

“I could make you feel so good,” He purred, “I could make you feel so so good. I could take care of you so well, you deserve it. Let me show you how you made me feel earlier.”

His voice was straining as he spoke. Desperate and needy. You were sure if you reached over you’d find him to be half hard already.

You closed your thighs around his hand, keening for him as you pressed your forehead to his. You were forgetting all the stupid reasons you had been denying him. Any rule of thumb you had established went up in smoke. It didn’t matter. None of it fucking mattered. A yes was right on the tip of your tongue. A plea for him to take you to his bed and never let you leave was a breath away from slipping out.

Before you could let the words fall out of your mouth the font door slammed open. You practically choked as you sucked in a gasp. You and Viktor threw yourselves away from each other, out of the compromising position. You sat wide eyed and red faced with your thighs pressed together, practically a foot of space between you and Viktor.

“You two are un-fucking-believable,” Lest scoffed, take the few steps down the stairs to stand on the sidewalk in front of you. Her eyes were alight with anger, perfect face turned down in a look of disappointment that bordered on disgust.

“Wh-what?” You stuttered, trying to control your breath.

“You heard me,” She snapped, arms crossing over her freckled chest, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Lest!” You scoffed, truly taken off guard by her anger, “What are you talking about.”

“You both are sharing the award for shittiest friends on the planet,” Lest told you, dramatic as always.

“Lest, what-” Viktor tried, shaking off his stunned expression, eyebrows furrowing.

“No,” She held up a finger to him, cutting him off, “You know what I’m talking about Seriously, how could you do this to Sky?”

Oh…that's what this was about.

Lest hissed your name, “You know how she feels, you fucking know. And you.” She turns to Viktor, “What is wrong with you? Dragging her around like this? If you don’t like Sky, fucking tell her. Don’t tell her that you’ll ‘get back to her’ and then go get head from a different girl.”

“Lest!” You snapped, not knowing what else to say, “We didn’t-“

“There are grass stains on your fucking knees,” She seethed your name at the end, then rubbed a crease out of her forehead.

“You,” She snapped, jabbing a finger in your direction, “You need to stop being a jealous, passive aggressive bitch,” And you, attention on Viktor, “need to learn how to be a fucking man.”

Your head was spinning. Lest had been mad at you before. It was in her nature to be protective and aggressive and say what she thought. Never had this level of rage actually been directed straight at you. It made your hands shake, every ounce of guilt and shame you’d ever carried floating to the surface of your skin.

“I’m spending the night with Sky,” Lest told you, jaw set, “because she’s fucking torn up over this, even if she won’t admit it.”

And with that she was leaving. Stalking off and down the street to catch an uber somewhere where she didn’t have to look at you. You stared after her, frozen. Hands shaking as your head swam.

Viktor said your name gently, reaching out for your shoulder. You flinched involuntarily, standing up in one quick motion, his jacket falling from your shoulders.

“I…” Your voice caught in your throat, “I’m gonna go home.”

“Hold on,” Viktor said, pushing himself up off the stairs, steadying himself on the cane and grabbing your wrist before you could get away, “Wait, please, just…let me get you a ride home at least.”

You could tell he wanted you to stay, and you could tell he knew you wouldn’t, “No, it’s fine. I just… I want to walk, it’s not far.”

You knew you were not sober enough to try to drive, you didn’t think your shaking hands would even let you.

“Milá, it’s freezing,” He gaped at you, eyes full of fear and worry, “Please.”

You tried to pull your wrist from his grasp, “Viktor, I’m fine. Please, just let me go.” You could feel hot tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Oh god, you didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not now, not like this.

“At least take my jacket?” He offered, grabbing it from the ground with his other hand and holding it out to you, “Please, you’re barely dressed. Please just put on a jacket.”

You hesitated, but slowly reached out and took it. Watching the ground as you slipped the heavy coat over your shoulders.

“Please let me know when you get home safe,” He said, voice reluctant to let you go, “Please.”

You nodded, cursing the way your voice broke, “Goodnight Viktor.”

You turned and walked away, trying to hide the shaking of your shoulders in the borrowed jacket. You were barely down the street before the first sob finally broke out of your chest. You zipped up the coat, burning your face in the neckline of it and tried and failed to calm yourself down as you walked back to your dorm room.

You were still crying when you finally collapsed into your bed, Viktor’s heavy coat still wrapped around you. You barely remembered to text Viktor. His face and name appear on your screen, reminding you of your promise. You declined the call, instead just texted him a brief ‘home.’ before shutting off your phone and letting yourself fall into a restless sleep.

88 notes · View notes

sinsmockingbird · 8 months ago

Text

GOOD LUCK, BABE | Zoya

PAIRING: College!AU!Zoya x College!AU!Afab!Reader

WARNINGS: Smut, Angst, NSFW, Dom!Character, Sub!Reader, College!AU, Bad Girl!Zoya, Little Miss Perfect!Reader, Trans!Zoya, Zoya has a penis, Heavy Cheating, Reader is cheating on their boyfriend with Zoya, Jealousy, Hate Fucking, Fingering, Alludes to Unprotected Sex.

CREDITS: Credit to @sea-lanterns for making the banner

AUTHORS NOTE: Probably the longest fic I've ever written. I actually decided to change the ending to something else last minute, as I realized the original could be triggering. Instead, enjoy a very very sad (slightly rushed) ending.

YOUR AN epitome of perfection in the eyes of many.

From the students at the college you attend, to the professors and school staff, you were a woman who could do no wrong. You were the student council president of your prestigious college, the captain of the women's soccer team, and the school's debate team leader. You were involved in everything at your school, from the events being held to the various clubs and societies. You knew everyone and everyone knew you.

At least, everyone thought they knew you. But who could ever imagine that little miss perfect had chosen the college’s bad girl and the drummer of a band, as the person she would start an affair with?

◃───────────▹

It was late at night, about 1 in the morning. You were laying back in your bed, disheveled and trying to catch your breath while Zoya collapsed beside you, who was equally disheveled and out of breath. You weren’t sure how long you both had been going at it, but it was long enough for you to feel too sore to move.

“Too much?” Zoya’s voice cut through the air, a soft chuckle falling from her lips as she moved onto her side and wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you closer. You looked gorgeous in her eyes with that post orgasm glow to you.

You laughed softly at her question, pressing your body close to hers. “No. It was perfect.”

It was always perfect with Zoya. Whether you were having a quickie, a rough fucking, or even love making, it was always perfect. She just did everything right, and it was only made better with how well she’s learned your body.

“Good.” Zoya hummed in content, relaxing against your bed while holding you close. It was these moments she loved the most where it was just the two of you. No outside eyes, no knowledge of what you did known to others, just you and her in this relaxing silence.

“Are you coming to Chelsea’s party today?” You asked, tilting your head up to look at her, admiring every little detail of her face that you normally wouldn’t be able to.

“Mhm. Kinda have to.” Zoya answered, gazing down at you, the blue of her eyes more prominent in the soft darkness of your room. When you gave her a look, she quickly continued. “The band’s performing, at the request of Chelsea. So, yeah, I’m technically obligated to be there. Like you are.”

You simply hummed at her words, your eyes moving down to her chest. You raised a hand up, lightly tracing your fingers over the marks you had left over the hours of passion that you shared.

She was right about you being obligated to be at Chelsea’s party. She was not only one of your good friends but it was also the end of the year party, one of the biggest she hosts all year. Plus, you were miss perfect and popular, so everyone at school expected you to be there, and you being you wanting to maintain your image, always went.

Zoya watched you closely, recognizing when you were getting lost in your thoughts or contemplating something. So she gently placed one of her larger hands over yours, making your attention snap back to her. “You want me to take you?”

“No.” You quickly shook your head, your eyes looking away from her and into the darkness of your room. “Nate’s picking me up and we’re going together.”

Oh, she should have assumed that.

A frown quickly tugged at Zoya’s lips upon hearing your boyfriend’s name. You both had made rules between you both when your affair started, one of them being to never mention your boyfriend’s name. It was mainly because you didn’t want to think about him when you were with her, and Zoya hated to hear it as it was a cruel reminder that you weren’t hers. She hated him for that.

“Right.” Zoya mumbled, suddenly seeking sleep. She turned onto her back, staring up at the ceiling before forcing her eyes closed. She wanted the conversation to be over now, not wanting to be angry with you or anything. She could feel her jealousy boiling, making her seethe internally. “Should get sleep. We both have a busy day.”

“Zoya…” You whispered her name, looking up at her. But she didn’t respond, pretending to already be asleep. You sighed, feeling guilty now. So you just rested your head on her chest and closed your eyes, hoping sleep would take you quickly.

◃───────────▹

Chelsea’s parties were huge and grand. She came from a family with wealth, meaning she had big money to spend when it came to the parties she hosted, but no party was as big as the end of the year parties, especially this one considering it was your guy’s last year, so it was a celebration of your year’s graduation.

Every student on campus was there, making the place packed. You stuck close to Nate, who was luckily a huge guy that was able to make room for the both of you. You guys were standing at a ping pong table with a group of your closest friends. You were cheering on Donald, Nate’s best friend, who was going up against some jock guy that you could never remember the name of.

But you weren’t actually paying attention to the match going on in front of you. You were too busy scouring the sea of party goers in search for the familiar face of the woman who has taken up the majority of your thoughts. You still hadn’t seen her, and it was making you a bit restless. You wouldn’t even be able to walk over and talk with her in fear of suspicion starting that something was going on between you both, but you just wanted to see her, even if for a split second.

“-Baby?” You let out a startled breath as Nate tilted your head up towards him, his eyebrows furrowed together when he realized you weren’t hearing him, too lost in your own thoughts of… Zoya, not that he knew that.

“I-I’m sorry, what?” Your face grew hot as your attention moved to him, embarrassed at how distracted you were.

“I was asking you how you were feeling about graduation coming up.” Nate stated, searching your face for several long seconds, as if he was trying to discern what could be possibly going on in that head of yours. “Everything okay, baby?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, I was just- just thinking about mom coming tomorrow.” You quickly lied, plastering a smile on your face. You’ve learned how to fake a smile over the years.

Nate hummed your answer, believing that you were just thinking about and worrying about your mom coming tomorrow for your graduation. She was… an intense woman to say the least. She was the one always pushing you to be perfect, have great grades, and participate in more things than a person can handle. She always said it was to prepare you for the future and push you, but it only led you to stress over wanting to be a perfect daughter in her eyes.

“Don’t think about her. Focus on now, okay?” Nate whispered that more quietly to you, giving you a soft smile while squeezing your hand that he tightly held onto.

It was moments like these with him that made you feel awful, knowing that you fooled around with someone else behind his back.

Nate was an amazing guy, he really was. He excelled academically and was a prominent figure at your college that almost everyone looked up to, and was also the star football player that led the team to the championship on numerous occasions. He was also an amazing boyfriend, always picking you up from things, walking you to classes and even your dorm, no matter the time of day.

But he had a possessive nature, something you noticed as your relationship went on. He always had to be with you no matter what, going to your trainings, debates, and other events. You didn’t mind that he went with you to those things, but it was the fact it felt like he was preventing you from doing anything else that revolved around your college. He’d also push you to your limits when training for soccer, studying late into the night, and pushing you when it came to debates.

He was too much like your mother, and it hurt you every time you were reminded of that.

“And that’s another win!” Donald’s voice rang out over the cheers that followed, throwing the last plastic red cup aside and throwing his arms up in the air in celebration. Nate quickly looked to his best friend, congratulating him and patting him on the back and you smiled at him.

“Y/N!” Your attention was pulled away from the two males as Chelsea came running up to you, quickly grabbing your hand and pulling you away from Nate without even sparring him a glance. She never was a fan of him. “Come on, Serpent’s band is about to perform and I want you front and center beside me!”

“O-Okay-” You felt your face heat up at Chelsea’s words, stumbling behind her as she easily moved through the sea of people. You were gonna be front and center… in Zoya’s line of sight.

Chelsea was easily still clutching onto your hand as you made your way to the front of the small stage that was set up. The members of the band were already there, having finished setting up. Eleven was on the keyboard, focused on making sure it was right. Serpent was by the microphone, considering she was the lead singer, with her electric guitar ready, she immediately smiled brightly and waved at you and Chelsea. Bai Yi was by the drums, her bass ready as well, a smirk spreading across her face when she saw you, and you noticed her lean over the drum set.

Your heart was beating rapidly as Zoya perked up at whatever Bai Yi had said, her head immediately turning towards the gathered crowd, until they landed on you. You only gave her a small smile, one she returned, but you could tell she was holding herself back from waving at you. But she couldn’t do that, after all you both had to act like you didn’t really know each other. You couldn’t do anything that could make another person suspicious.

“Are you really just gonna give her a small smile?” Chelsea suddenly asked, leaning her mouth right by your ear and whispering so only you heard. It made you jump, immediately leaning away from her.

“Yes…” You muttered, giving Chelsea a warning look to not continue. She was one of the very select people that actually knew about you and Zoya’s affair. You had ended up telling her so you could have some cover for you for the times you’d steal moments with the woman.

Only Chelsea and Zoya’s bandmates knew, and you were going to keep it that way as long as you could.

Chelsea pouted slightly, giving you a look back that you couldn’t quite discern, before her attention was back on the stage as the music started. When the first song started, you were immediately enraptured by the music. You’ve heard Zoya’s band play before, and everytime you were blown away. At first you tried to focus on Serpent, or Eleven, or Bai Yi, trying to not look at the woman on the drums.

But eventually your eyes strayed to her. They always moved to Zoya like she was a magnet, screaming for your attention no matter where you were or what you were doing. She looked handsome sitting behind the drums, her hands moving up and down as played, finding her own rhythm in the song. Sometimes she’d twirl her drum sticks in her hands just to show off before continuing to play, and you could see a smile adorning her face as people in the crowd cheered.

Zoya never really admitted it, but she loved the attention, hearing fans singing along to their songs or cheering. She never felt more alive than on stage playing her drums with her band that had become her family. And it was only made better for her knowing you were in the crowd, in her direct line of sight. Her eyes almost never strayed away from yours when your attention was finally on her, and she was making it difficult for you to look away as her eyes just seemed to suck you in.

But every small moment like this had to be ruined.

Zoya felt her eye twitch and her lips flinched down into a frown as she watched Nate appear beside you, his arm quickly circling around your waist as he pulled you in close. Your attention was immediately off of her and onto him, a big smile spreading across your lips as you leaned up to kiss his cheek. She watched you laugh as he leaned down to whisper something into your ear, before kissing your head and turning his attention to the performance.

Gradually, Zoya began to hit the drums a lot harder as her anger and jealousy built up. She should have been the one to have an arm wrapped around you, be the one to place kisses on your head and face and have you smile up at her like you did with him. It was agony for her, a pain that grew every day, making the hole in her heart widen even more, a hole you caused because you’d never be able to fill your place in it.

As soon as the performance was done and Serpent thanked the crowd, Zoya was off the stage, her jaw clenched tight.

◃───────────▹

It had been an hour when you finally decided to leave the party, exhausted from the whole thing and having to put up a front the whole time. You convinced Nate you could walk back to your dorm on your own, considering it wasn’t too far down from the sorority houses. The walk was something you needed, the cold air feeling nice on your face. You felt relaxed, but also felt empty, an emptiness you couldn’t help but take notice of whenever you weren’t with Zoya.

Thinking of Zoya, you remembered how quickly she was off the stage after the performance ended, and it made you bite your lip. You wondered how hard you had screwed up and upset her, if you even were responsible for it (you were). You decided that once you were at your dorm, you’d make a plan to see her the next day and check in on her.

But it seemed Zoya had her own plans of seeing you earlier than that, as she was waiting for you in your dorm room when you entered.

“I thought you would have stayed a bit longer at the party.” Zoya stated, sitting at the chair at your desk, checking her nails and not even looking at you as you entered and shut the door, the sound of the lock turning echoing inside her head.

“I was planning to leave a little after your band’s performance.” You answered, biting your bottom lip as your eyes moved up and down her body, noting how she seemed a little too relaxed.

Zoya then stood up, her figure already towering over you as she walked towards you, and you tried to read her eyes to gauge how she was feeling. “You and Nate seemed to be having a lot of fun during it.”

You clenched your jaw at the name of your boyfriend, narrowing your eyes just slightly at her. “Isn’t one of our rules to not mention him?”

“Heh.” Zoya couldn’t help but chuckle softly at your reminder, briefly looking to the ground before placing a hand on your chest and gently, but firmly pushing you back against the wall, her lips grazing your ear. “Says the girl who mentioned him last night.”

With those words, Zoya slammed her lips against yours, silencing anything that you were about to say. You immediately melted into it, your arms wrapping around her neck before you pulled her closer, opening your mouth to deepen the kiss, something she was all too willing to allow.

Zoya pushed her tongue inside your mouth, exploring it like she always did while her hands landed on your hips, pushing you more firmly back against the wall. Then she was kicking your feet apart with her foot, before slotting one of her legs between yours. A moan immediately fell from yours lips as her knee pressed up against you.

“Zoya…” You whimpered, moaning a little more as she began to grind her knee against the area you wanted her most.

“That’s right, moan my name, baby.” Zoya growled, her lips moving down your jaw and to your neck, quickly kissing as much as she could and lightly nipping at your skin. She so badly wanted to leave a mark on you, but she knew she couldn’t, and it only annoyed her.

You did as she asked, continuing to moan her name and throw your head back, resting it back against the door as you focused on the feeling of her knee grinding up against you just right. Though it wasn’t enough, and you whimpered softly, one of your hands moved down to grab one of her’s. You brought it to the waistband of your pants, silently urging her to slip it past the barrier of clothing.

Zoya growled at the action, a sound that made you shiver and bit your lip. She sounded so primal, like a wolf about to devour its prey, and you were a willing victim to it as she slipped her hand by the waistband. You gasped as soon as her calloused fingers made contact with you, sending a jolt of pleasure through your spine.

“Fuck, your so wet.” Zoya mumbled, feeling you already slick like you had become wet the second you entered your dorm room and saw her, which was the case.

“All for you-!” You bit down on your bottom lip as she easily slipped two fingers inside you, making you feel full. “Yes, yes-!”

The sound of your moans and the slick sound emitting from your pussy as she fingered you was like music to Zoya’s ears, a song she was addicted to. Her thumb circled your clit, while her fingers continued to pump in and out, making you curse and arch your back, pushing yourself further into her. She wanted- no needed to hear more from you. She needed to hear you scream her name.

“Scream my name.” Zoya husks out, her breath hitching as she feels your walls tightening around her fingers. “Let me know how good I’m making you feel.”

“S-So good, Z-Zoya!” You tried to speak, finding it harder as you neared your climax, your gut tightening making you whine a needy sound, a sound only she could make. “C-Cumming… p-please let me cum..!”

A tear rolls down your face as the pleasure builds up to a point it’s almost painful, and it makes Zoya’s smirk widen a bit more as she goes back to kissing your neck. She hums against your skin, her tempo increasing, leaving you more numb with pleasure. But she doesn’t say anything, simply focusing on pleasuring you.

Eventually you can’t hold back anymore, and cum around her fingers with a scream of her name, “Zoya!”

Your body arches into her’s, your head falling forward and onto her shoulder as the waves of pleasure leave your body weak and shaking. Zoya immediately supports you as you collapse against her body, her arm tightening around your waist and pulling you closer. She pulls her hand from your pants and brings them up to her mouth, quickly sucking your cum off them. The sight makes your pussy pulse, but you're too exhausted to act on it.

Zoya easily picks you up in her arms, carrying you over to your bed and gently laying you down. She moves to unwrap herself from you and pull away, only for you to grab her shirt to stop her, whispering, “Please stay, Zoya…”

Your words make her freeze, leading her to debate whether to stay or leave like she planned. But she looks down at your face, seeing you had already begun to fall asleep, your eyes closed. Then she can’t bring herself to leave your side, so with a heavy sigh, she climbs into your bed with you, quickly wrapping her arms around your body and pulling you against her.

Zoya gazes down at your now sleeping face, raising a hand up and gently brushing some hair away before caressing your face. You looked so beautiful and at peace, for once looking relaxing and content while being in her arms. You didn’t have to pretend around her, you were vulnerable and it made her feel special knowing you felt comfortable enough to not put up that front of yours that you had around everyone else.

She wished you could be like that not just behind closed doors with her. She wished she wouldn’t ruin your perfect image by holding your hand in public and kissing your cheek. If she had it her way she would do all of that with you, and maybe it was selfish considering she didn’t care about image. But you did, and she had to respect that openly being with her would ruin it.

For her, keeping your affair a secret was easy for her, but after so long, genuine feelings began to form and she found herself thinking about you every second of the day. She thought of your eyes, your smile, the sound of your laugh and the way you would chew on your bottom lip when you were focused. She noticed every little thing you did, and it was that knowledge that made her realize that you were more than just a person she slept around with.

She needed to tell you how she really felt, because the weight of knowing she had to keep this thing a secret was beginning to weigh heavily on her. She had to say something, because she yearned for the day when she didn’t have to conceal her feelings or hide her presence, or act like she didn’t know you when in reality she knew you better than anyone else.

Was it really too much to ask for?

◃───────────▹

Everytime Zoya tried to confess her feelings to you, something would happen or come up, leaving you to either leave or leave her too afraid to actually say anything. She never felt so weak or scared before until she was faced with a situation where she could finally tell you that she loved you. It went on for two more months, and your affair was still going and was still secret. Now graduation was upon you guys, happening the next day when Zoya received news that utterly tore her apart and left her feeling so cold and heartbroken.

“You didn’t know? Nate and Y/N are getting married.”

The words echoed in her head like a plague, leaving her wanting to claw at her skin and sink into herself and just break down. She found herself at a bar and hung out there late into the night, drinking down beer after beer all to try and numb the pain she was feeling. By 3 in the morning she wasn’t in a coherent state, her mind fogged with alcohol as she stumbled through campus. All that was on her mind was you, and it was why she found herself knocking loudly on your dorm room so late.

You opened the door, rubbing sleep out of your eyes, before they widened when you saw her standing on the other wide, reeking of alcohol, and weakly holding onto the door frame to keep herself up right. “Zoya-”

“When were you gonna tell me?” Her voice cut through you like a knife, leaving you frozen as she stared you down with anger and hurt swirling inside her eyes. You’d never seen her so… broken, and that’s how you knew that this was about.

“I’m sorry…” Was all you could say back in response as tears welled up in your eyes, your hands beginning to shake along with your whole body.

“Engaged?” Zoya stated, looking at you with pure hurt as she leaned slightly towards you. “You didn’t tell me…”

You remembered when Nate had proposed to you a couple days ago. It was when you were at dinner with both of your families, celebrating the final debate you participated in. Suddenly Nate had dropped down onto one knee in front of you, holding out a ring and asking the words, “Will you marry me?”

How were you supposed to say no when you felt everyone’s eyes on you, when you felt your mother’s eyes on you. The weight of maintaining the image of the perfect daughter, the expectations, and the pressure of the entire situation weighed heavily on your shoulders, leading you to saying yes.

You didn’t keep it a secret that you were engaged to him now. You were planning to tell Zoya, you really were, but you had been so busy that week that you weren’t able to find time to meet with her. But you didn’t want her to find out this way, because it now leads Zoya to your dorm room, alcohol heavy on her and intoxication clear in her glassy eyes.

“I did everything you wanted!” Zoya suddenly yelled, her voice cracking in anger and pain. “I followed your stupid rules, your demands. I stayed away from you when you asked me to just to keep our-” She stopped, letting out a laugh and looking away with a shake of her head, stopping herself from uttering the word “relationship.”

As far as Zoya knew, you weren’t even a couple, just two people who fucked.

You had your head hung low, staring at the ground while Zoya entered your dorm, beginning to pace back and forth while you quietly shut the door. She was muttering some things to herself, tugging at her hair before suddenly punching the wall. The hit made you jump and squeeze your eyes shut, tears falling freely down your face.

Zoya’s anger was justified, which is why you didn’t stop her as her fist collided with the wall until there was a hole. You wanted to stop her, in fear of her hurting herself, but you just couldn’t. All you could do was stand there in your guilt.

“Y-You know. I played along… to have you.” Zoya whimpered out, leaning her head against the wall, tears welling up in her eyes as her anger was quenched for now. Her hand ached, shaking in pain at her side, her knuckles split open and bleeding, but she paid no attention to it.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, her confession cutting into your heart like a knife, leaving you shaking uncontrollably, tears falling rapidly down your face. The guilt was prominent inside your body, eating away at you.

“I just wanted you to be mine.” Zoya whispered, tears falling from her eyes as she turned towards you slowly. “I love you.”

There it is, those three words that held so much pointless weight in the end. It left you gasping for air between your sobs, your head snapping up to Zoya and staring at her with wide eyes. You always hoped to hear her say them, but you knew you shouldn’t have, knowing it wouldn’t make you change the secrecy of your affair. In the end it wouldn’t change anything, just like how it won’t change anything now.

Zoya then approached you, and with every step she took, you took a step to retreat, until your back hit the wall and she was quick to cage you in between her arms. “But you were never mine to begin with.” She gives you a sad smile, finally coming to terms with that fact. The engagement ring on your finger was proof of it, after all. “Now I have to live with that fact…”

You looked away from her, wrapping your arms around yourself in a protective manner, while trying to make yourself look small. Zoya raised a hand up, gently dragging your chin and tilting your head up until you had no choice but to look at her. She was crying, just like you, and the knowledge of knowing that you were the reason behind her tears made you whimper.

When your attention was on her, she grabbed your one hand and slipped your engagement ring off of your finger, examining it. “Engaged…” She whispered softly, finally letting that fact register in her head.

Then Zoya dropped the ring, letting it fall to the ground, and before you could process it, her lips were on yours. Her lips were soft, feeling familiar and bringing a warmth to your chest that you knew you didn’t deserve. You kissed one another like you were the only reason for each other breathing. You kissed her like this was the end… because it was.

One final night with one another couldn’t hurt, right? Just a night to say goodbye.

Finding yourself back on your bed, naked with Zoya on top of you left you feeling numb with pain. Your mind was only filled with her. The feeling of her body against yours, her lips on your neck, while her hips moved against yours. It was the same like all those other nights you both spent together, except it was different because this was the end.

When you both reached your peak, with Zoya releasing inside you, you felt complete for the first time in your life, but that feeling wasn’t going to last after this. Zoya had her head resting on your chest, listening to the sound of your gradually calming heartbeat, her arms circled around your waist. Your hands moved through her hair as you stared up at the ceiling of your dorm, tears rolling down your face.

You eventually fell asleep, and once you were, Zoya forced herself out of your bed. She grabbed her clothes and slowly got dressed, running a hand through her hair before looking back at your sleeping form. Her feet moved on her own as she crouched down beside your bed, reaching a hand out to tuck some hair behind your ear, before leaning forward and placing one final kiss onto your lips, murmuring a few final words before getting up and leaving, never looking back.

“Good luck, babe.”

ENDING NOTES: So, one question. Part 2?

#*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟsins writings #path to nowhere #ptn smut #ptn angst #zoya #ptn!zoya #dom!zoya #zoya x reader #zoya x you #good luck babe

228 notes · View notes

phan3145 · 9 months ago

Text

Title: Slippery Slope. Fandom: Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Blood, Intensity…Implications) Pairing: Eventual Noa x Human!Reader.

***Note: Guys…I literally have no idea why I went this hard with this chapter, it’s 8K+ and not even that integral to the plot, but every time I wanted to cut something I simply couldn’t. I’m posting this so quick and then going to bed. 🙈 As always, comments are welcomed and encouraged!

Chapter 5: Evolution

You

Waiting for the apes to tie up their horses was the longest couple of minutes of your life. You practically launched yourself up the steps two at a time. They had to run to keep up with you as you pushed through the double doors, feet echoing off the tile floor. This place was massive! You searched for some indication of where to go, spinning in a circle as you took it all in. The ivy and growing trees did nothing to diminish the beauty of the architecture, the dome above you holding a replica globe of the Earth taking the breath from your lungs. While the power no longer worked, the tile mural surrounding it still held an ancient grace to it as well. What must it have been like to see it bright and new?

Most of the color had faded, but the blue was still prevalent, reminding you of the night sky before the last sliver of light disappeared and turned it black. The rich sea color faded into the white stone of the building, and squinting, you could almost make out the sculptures carved into the walls. Probably Greek inspired…or maybe something else more ancient. It was all too faded to tell.

A noise behind you drew your attention from the ceiling, to your companions. Soona had dropped her sling, her expression matching Anaya and Noa’s as they took in the same grandeur that you had. You let them have that moment, padding over to what you imagined was the main desk. You shifted through decaying papers and old technology that no longer worked, looking for some sort of directory or map.

“Noa…reminds me of…light tunnel,” you heard Soona say. “Echos…made this too?”

You heard Noa grunt, taking a few steps before addressing you, “What is…this…Library?”

You didn’t look up, responding as you shuffled more things about, “It holds the mind and memory of humanity in it. Everything humans know about love, nature, science, math, religion, language, and history is in this building.”

You thought for a moment you had found it, a piece of color coated laminated paper within a folder, but it only showed where emergency exits were in case of a fire. Anaya took that time to chime in, “ Only know…three of those words.”

“That is why we are here.” Noa said, “Caesar understood…human things that…we do not…how do we learn?”

You figured that last bit was directed at you, explaining, “It’s written down in all the books here, thousands of years of information. Everything that is and ever was…excluding the fall of humanity of course. It’s not like we need that though, we already know how that happened.”

“We do?” Noa asked.

You stopped then, “You know who Caesar is, so you know how he was involved with the fall of humanity.”

“In..volved?” Noa looked skeptical.

“Well, yeah. If it wasn’t for…” you trailed off. Your eyes locked on to an old board hanging from an upper level, three giant letters on it that you recognized. Three letters that were exactly what you were looking for. “We can compare notes some other time, come this way.”

Old escalators that no longer worked took you up a level to where a long forgotten map was. You took the hem of your shirt and wiped the dirt and grime from it, barely able to make out the colors, let alone the words. Somehow, eyes straining from the effort, you managed to make out key letters. You knew where you were going after this. All you needed to know now was what Noa, Anaya, and Soona wanted.

You turned to them then, “This is it. What do you want to know? I’ll tell you where it is.”

The three shared a look, remaining so quiet you wondered if taking charge of their Caesar Journey had upset them. Anaya made to sign, but Noa stopped him with a hand over his. He began to sign instead, but they were gestures you didn’t recognize. You hadn’t learned a lot of sign, but you were picking up on certain gestures and had learned enough to usually understand what the apes were talking about. Noa knew this. It was deliberate, Noa silencing Anaya. The thought caused something in your stomach to plummet. Soona’s mouth opened then, as if sensing your sudden mood shift, gaze locking with yours, but a quick glance to Noa’s hands had her mouth shutting again.

You took a step away from the map then, hand still resting on the surface as a sort of tether. The space was needed though, no matter how small, between yourself and the trio. You were cruelly reminded then, that no matter what, at the end of the day, you are not an ape. They are not humans. You trusted them not to hurt you, and they trusted you to a point, but their full trust would probably never be earned. You are not an ape…you are an echo of a bygone era.

An Echo…and how they never let you forget it. You felt your jaw tighten, teeth clenched as you looked back down at the map in front of you. A month…only a month. A drop in the bucket compared to how long you’ve been alive, and look how quickly you forgot what their kind had taken from you. Look how comfortable you had become with them. Look how much you came to care for each of them…and trust them. Was it mutual though? Their continued silence screamed no.

“Symbols…in books?” Anaya asked.

You scrunched your eyebrows, “Do you mean letters?”

Soona leaned forward, head slightly bowed as she confessed, “We are not sure….do not understand human…markings.”

“Wait, Noa you said…” you stopped yourself, frustration pushed to the wayside for now. Playing back the conversation in your head from your first meeting, you thought it was only Noa who couldn’t read, but apes in general could. You assumed since he knew what books were at all, that his village could read. Noa never brought it up again, and after finding out he was the leader of the Eagle Clan, you figured he just didn’t have the time to learn. That wasn’t the case it seemed, as you confirmed, “Apes can’t read at all, can they?”

“No,” Noa admitted, the word sounding as if it was forcibly pulled from his mouth.

One word, but the impact was massive. They were showing you and somewhat teaching you sign, but none of them could read. You brought them into a building of power, but that power only belonged to you in this instance. You thought the balance was always disproportionate between the apes and yourself, and it had been…just not in the way you expected. Guilt threatened to choke you now, as you reevaluated what their silence and secrecy had meant. If you were who you were months ago, you would let them stew in their own ignorance, but as it stood now? You knew better.

You let out a sigh, eyes wandering back to the map for a moment, “I have a feeling we’ll be visiting here often. For now, follow me.”

“Where?” Noa questioned, the three apes not hesitating to follow you as you began to move.

You went around the escalator, seeing across the way that what you needed was laid out in faded colors and deteriorating furniture. “To the only section that’s going to matter for the foreseeable future.”

Knuckles gently nudged your shoulder, so soft you almost didn’t feel it. You turned, it was Anaya, “Symbols…not letters?”

You hesitated, trying to think how best to explain, “Symbols can be both letters and pictures. Pictures are drawings. See a symbol is…anything that has meaning behind it. Think of…that pendant of yours you keep tied around your shoulder sling for Caesar. That’s a symbol.”

“How?” Noa challenged, looking more confused.

“So, it’s basic design is a diamond within a circle.” You began, stopping at a book shelf, drawing said symbol in the dust. Off to the side, a book cover labeled Learning Your ABC’s caught your attention. “Nothing about that particularly resembles anything to do with apes or ape culture, right?”

There were nods all around, Noa adding, “It became a symbol for the order of Caesar.”

“Right!” You smiled, “But someone first had to give it that meaning. Before Caesar, if someone drew that symbol what would it have meant?”

Confused stares followed your question, maybe that was too philosophical for them. Of course, as you thought that, Soona chimed in, “Would mean…nothing without Caesar…just shapes…the shapes meant something…important to him.”

“Exactly,” you picked up the book that had originally caught your attention, opening it up to a random page. L is for Lion stared back at you as you turned the book to show them. “These symbols have meaning, both the letter and the picture. This is the letter L, and this is an animal we called a lion. It starts with the letter L, this is how we taught children to understand it and make the connection.”

Anaya pushed his finger onto the page, moving across it as he asked, “What about the other letters?”

“It takes more than one letter to make up a word…usually anyway. This book is just meant to help children memorize the twenty-six letters and the sounds they make. The pictures will help them remember and associate the sound with the letter and the word.”

Noa seemed to look around then, taking in where they were standing. His brow furrowed, “This is for children…will not learn about…Caesar from this.”

“You’re right.” You countered, “You will learn how to read though, and then you can learn about humanity as Caesar knew it.”

“Noa…” Soona brushed his arm. He turned to her, “This is…better…Caesar could read…so we should…too.”

Anaya, ever easily distracted, wandered over to a table where a few forgotten books covered in dust remained. He called over his shoulder, “Want to learn…know what our Echo knows…seems easy enough…if Echo children can understand…then should be no problem…for clever ape.”

Noa’s jaw rotated, an agitated huff leaving him. Anaya had picked up a book from the table, turning random pages. He looked to Noa then, who was looking at him in what you could only describe as malice. It wasn’t a look you had ever seen on Noa’s face before, and it was aimed at Anaya, which surprised you even more. Anaya hooted, closing his book and pacing back over to the group.

A nerve had been struck, clearly, but you couldn’t tell what it was. Unless, it was the taunt of it being easy in general. As soon as it appeared Noa quickly let it go, relaxing his body with a hum, turning back to you. “You would…be able to…teach us?”

You nodded once, “Yes.”

“Why?” Soona asked, the question seeming to surprise even her once it left her mouth.

It was a good question though. Why did you do half the things you did for these apes? Why did you decide to trust them? Why did you spend your days with them? All questions came back to the same answer, “I care about you, all three of you. Understanding Caesar is important to you, and if learning how to read will help you better understand Caesar, then teaching you is important to me.”

There was a pause, a beat of silence and hesitation, then Soona reached out. Her hand clasped your shoulder. You smiled, stiffening slightly when she pulled your towards her, leaning her head forward and touching it to yours. You weren’t expecting it, still surprised by the gesture in general. The sentiment was there though.

Anaya reached over Noa to nudge Soona then, “Do not touch…Echo Soona…told does not like.”

You laughed, Soona letting out something similar to a groan as she swiveled her head away from you to look at Anaya, “That…was different.”

“Different how?” Anaya demanded, puffing his cheeks.

Noa and I seemed caught in the middle, catching each others eyes before both glancing to Soona, “Because I…am not you…Anaya.”

Anaya opened his mouth comically wide, gasping dramatically before pointing a finger at Soona, “Not fair!”

Soona and Noa both let out loud hoots, Anaya chiming in a moment later with a disgruntled screech or two of his own. Your laugh blended with theirs, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed this much in your life before meeting the trio. Maybe things just seemed funnier when you had others around you to laugh with. You had to gasp in a breath by the end of your laughter. Soona and Anaya were making faces at each other now, but Noa was gazing at you. Staring more like, eyes trained on your mouth, then shifting to your eyes. His, seemed to be holding a question.

You cleared your throat, not giving him time to voice it. “I’m going to look for a few basic books on learning the alphabet. Normally, I would say don’t judge a book by its cover, but in this case, look around. Each of you pick two or three books for us to take back with us, whatever catches your eye.”

Anaya still had that one book in his hand. He clutched it to his chest, going down on three of his limbs to be more level with the shelves. He began to look and scan for a few more. Soona wandered down the rows, picking a book and scanning through its pages before putting it back. You supposed she was making her decision based on the pictures she saw. That was a way to do it.

That’s when you noticed that Noa hadn’t moved. That question still remained in his eyes, and it twisted something in your stomach. You couldn’t face him. You turned, crouching down to scan the shelf you found the Learning Your ABC’s on, hoping to find similar books in the same area. You could feel him at your back, his eyes burning that familiar hole into you. At this point, you would think you would have built up an immunity to it, but with Noa… you were afraid you would always be affected. He shuffled around you then, coming to rest in the peripheral vision of your right side. His back was to Anaya and Soona, his sheer size blocking you from their view and vice versa.

You tried to keep your eyes on the titles, but they were blurring together as you tried not to squirm under his gaze. A long sigh through his nose, then, “I am…sorry.”

That caught you off guard, nearly giving yourself whiplash as you turned to look up at him. “What? Why? What for?”

He crouched then to be level with you, “For not sharing…the truth with you…I did not lie…but I hid it from you…saw what that did to you.”

“What do you mean?” You asked. “You saw what?”

Noa placed a hand on his chest, “Inside…you were…hurt…when I stopped Anaya…signed things you did not understand.”

“You can’t see what I’m feeling on the inside.” You snapped, turning back to the books, refusing to look at him. To hear him confirm what you thought at the time, somehow did not make it better. The fact that he recognized your hurt made his apology almost seem hollow.

“You are…right.” Noa hesitated, “But I can…see it in your eyes…and when you cackle…you said…can also be from relief…tears in your eyes…and relief from hurt…hurt that I caused…from keeping secrets.”

Your jaw clenched as you pulled another book from the shelf, flipping through it to find a few exercises. You hated how even when Noa was wrong, what he said was somehow right. You hated that he could read you so well, as if he��d known you your entire life. You tried not to let your anger spiral, a tinge of bitterness creeping into you voice as you replied, “You are not obligated to tell me anything, Noa. You certainly don’t owe me an apology for telling apes things you think an Echo wouldn’t like or understand.”

“I tell you…now,” He countered. “Told them…that I had mislead you…about ape knowledge…that Caesar Journey could not…happen without you…the truth…you know more than we do…needed you here with us…could not learn…without you.”

You tilted your head at the books in front of you, fighting the urge to turn, “There was a lot more signing than just that.”

“Told them…it was your choice,” Noa continued. “We speak truth…and if you decide not to…help us…that was your choice…but it does not change…us.”

“Us?” You questioned.

Noa said your name then.

The suddenness, and the softness of it almost took you out of your body. He did not often call you by your name, for whatever reason. You couldn’t help it then, even if you wanted to, you felt yourself shift, slowly turning to face Noa. He looked ashamed, mouth downturned and shoulders hunched in more than usual. His eyes, pleading a thousand different things, searched yours. He said it again.

“You…and Soona…and Anaya…and me…us.” The anger in your heart cooled as Noa continued, “Will not change…ever…because you do not want…to do something we ask…not how this…works…you are free…make decisions about…your life…ape not interfere.”

You hadn’t even realized that was a true fear of yours. Deep down, along with never having their full trust, you had to admit that a quiet part of you also whispered things like that. How dangerous it could be for you if you ever refused one of them. Everyone gets along as long as everyone is happy, right? But…a disagreement, an argument, a demand? What would happen then if you said no?

The fact Noa had even thought about that, showed how much he was aware of the dynamics between you and the apes. More so than you, or rather, more willing to think about it in reality instead of pretending it didn’t exist. Something about that touched you. Noa was always being considerate of you, and your feelings. Having him as a friend, was altering not only your life, but your perception on apes. If more were like him…you let the thought die. Noa was Noa, there would never be another ape like him.

“Though it wasn’t the best time to say that,” you started softly. “Thank you, for caring about my feelings, about my freedom. I’m sure that Anaya and Soona appreciated the truth too. I trust that what you’re telling me now is the truth.”

“It is,” Noa replied, a tinge of desperation to his voice.

You smiled then, bringing a tentative hand up to cup his shoulder, “Then don’t worry about it anymore. All is forgiven.”

He huffed in relief, hand coming up to mirror yours, clasping onto your shoulder. His grip, shifting back and forth, rocked you slightly with it, “I am glad.”

You felt a traitorous smile creep up before you let go of him, shrugging his hand off your shoulder as you moved to your feet. You didn’t miss the surprise or slight hurt in his eyes as his hand fell from you. You were still a little too raw for his touch though, as much as you didn’t want to admit it. You had forgiven him, and it was water under the bridge, but in the back of your mind you still wondered when something like this would happen again. You couldn’t blame him now for things that might happen in the future, so space was what you needed now. You needed to ground yourself and refocus on the task at hand.

Noa stood, looking down at you still. You grabbed two more books at the shelf, stacking them and holding them by your side. You tried in some small way to apologize for shying away from his touch, playfully pushing against his arm, “I think I have everything I need for now, go find your books before Anaya and Soona take all of the good ones. I need to make sure no one has two of the same before we leave.”

Noa nodded, grunting, “Will be dusk…by the time we return.”

You shrugged, “Good thing I’m not the one guiding the horse then.”

He chuffed at that, beginning a slow pace away from you, looking as if he wanted to say more but did not. Soona passed him as he walked away, coming over to you with three books in her hands. She laid them down on the shelf in front of you for your inspection, and you smiled down at the familiar titles your mother had read copies of to you as a child.

Goodnight Moon was a classic of course, and was top to bottom covered in illustrations. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be too boring for her. Then again, though she was an adult ape, to your knowledge, she also had never read anything before. You couldn’t imagine she would complain this early on. Then your eyes landed on The Giving Tree. You felt a pang in your heart, having mixed feelings about the story now as an adult. It was a bittersweet story when you didn’t look at it through the eyes of a child.

Your brows furrowed as your eyes skimmed over the third book. You picked it up, reading allowed, “Stellaluna…I’ve never heard of this one before.”

There was a picture of a bat clinging to the branch of a tree, in what looked to be autumn. The illustration was beautiful, the bat looking so lifelike. You went to open the book but Soona stopped you, gently taking it from your grasp and holding it tightly, “We read…together.”

You were confused by her actions, but decided if she felt so strongly on the matter that you should respect her wishes. You smiled, “Okay, that’s fine with me. You picked really good ones, I remember the other two from my childhood. They are simple, but I think you’ll enjoy them.”

Soona nodded, “Pictures…tell a lot about…the story…I think.”

You snickered, “Well, enjoy them while you can. Books that were written for adult humans, things that Noa will probably be interested it, won’t have pictures in them.”

Soona looked crestfallen for a moment before both of you startled. Anaya, who was on the other side of the shelf, had rather roughly dropped his books next to Soona’s. He tapped them three times with his knuckles, gesturing to himself then to you, “Anaya’s books…good for learning?”

You saw the cover of the first one, another smile threatening to split your face in half. Green Eggs and Ham was very repetitive, and you were sure Anaya was either going to love it or hate it. You moved it aside, humming in approval to see The Rainbow Fish, which didn’t really surprise you. While Soona seemed to focus on books where pictures also told the story, Anaya seemed focused primarily on bright colors and designs on the covers. Still, you had to admit that the moral behind the story was a sweet one. It would be good for him.

You moved that one to the side to reveal his final pick. Unlike with Soona’s, you knew this one. It still made you pause. You locked every muscle in your body, fighting back laughter as If You Give a Mouse a Cookie stared back at you. You weren’t sure why it struck you as funny, and you didn’t want to laugh at Anaya’s choice, especially when you couldn’t explain why to him. You swallowed down the laughter, feeling your lungs burn from the lack of oxygen as you held your breath.

Anaya, more observant than you gave him credit for, let his expression fall, mouth hanging open slightly as he asked, “Bad?…Bad book?…Echo is quiet…why is Echo quiet?”

You took in a large breath of air through your mouth, “No Anaya, it’s not a bad book. It’s actually a very sweet book, sort of funny too. It reminds me of you actually. This is the book for you.”

Anaya seemed confused but relieved, snatching his books back from the table and holding them close to his chest, as if someone would try to take them from him. That did have you chuckling, looking behind Soona but not seeing Noa is the rows and shelves of books. You turned left, facing Anaya and looking over his shoulder. The ape mirrored you, looking behind him before turning back to you.

“Echo…looking for…what?” Anaya asked.

“Where’s Noa?” You wondered aloud before a light brush of your shoulder had you jumping out of your skin. You gasped in a breath, turning to find Noa behind you, “You scared me, when did you even walk behind me?”

“When you were…trying not to cackle.” Noa answered cheekily. Said playfulness disappeared as quickly as it arrived though, replaced with an anxious expression.

He raised the three books in his hands to you. You took them carefully, knowing right away Noa’s choices were not as simple as Soona’s or Anaya’s. On top of that, you only knew one of them, not sure how the other two would fair. Peter and the Wolf was a story you heard growing up as a child, a cautionary tale about being smart but also being able to be brave in the face of danger. It was a bit of a longer read, but still doable with illustrations to help set the story. The other two struck you as odd. One was The Mitten, and it was short enough, but just by looking at the cover you weren’t sure what it was about. You hoped nothing gruesome.

The final book, while being slightly illustrated, was not a beginner book. And the title alone…you had to crack open the book to make sure it was in English. It was, but still the title intrigued you, “Rikki Tikki Tavi…what on Earth? I’ve never heard of this one, and where did you even find it?”

Noa gestured to a reading table behind him where many books were spread out across it. You bit the inside of your mouth, knowing it was not meant to be in this section, but was probably placed there so long ago, it’s reader thinking they would be right back. You didn’t want to insult him, but you also knew he would have to work his way up to this one.

You sighed, “The other two are fine but this one, well…it’s not for beginners Noa. You’ll have to learn a lot before you read this one. If you want to pick another one you can, we can wait.”

He huffed, “No…take now…will learn to read it.”

There was a moment of warring wills before you decided, for whatever reason, he was not going to budge. You shrugged a shoulder, “Alright, the three of you will eventually swap stories before we come back anyway. We’ll make…Rikki Tikki Tavi our goal. Such a weird name.”

“Sounds fun…to say.” Anaya chimed in.

You chuckled, “Always a bright side with you, Anaya. If that’s everything, let’s grab the books and head out. Are we stopping anywhere else?”

This was directed at Noa, who took not only his books, but scooped yours up as well. You started to protest but he argued, “You must…mount first…we are heading home now.”

You stretched your arms, rolling your shoulders as you imagined the ride back. Then, you remembered the jump and you cringed at the thought of how often it would be happening in the future. What had you gotten yourself into?

That’s when you remembered, “When we get back you can leave your books with me, they’ll probably be safer that way.”

Noa and Soona nodded, but Anaya hesitated. He shuffled, asking, “Why not safe…with Anaya?”

You tilted your head slightly, eyebrows drawing together, “The books are fragile, made from paper. Getting them wet or dirty would mean they would fall apart. My shelter is pretty water proof, so…”

Now it was your turn to hesitate. You weren’t sure what their sleeping arrangements were like. You had assumed a few crude huts at most. Apes in the past usually used man-made structures that already existed as their nest, and the ones who didn’t chose caves or huts made from tree branches. Then, there were a few you came across that slept in trees. You figured, since there were no cities nearby in the first place, they probably slept in trees or huts, only now realizing how wrong you might be. You had never seen their village.

Noa, sensing your struggle, came to your rescue, “Echo is right…safer with her…other apes…will not understand…Echo books.”

“I promise to keep them safe, Anaya.” You said.

He looked reluctant, but nodded in the end. With that, the four of you headed out. Soona and Anaya tucked their books into their packs along their horses’ backs, starting to untie their reigns while Noa followed suit. You took this time to put a foot in the stirrup and practically throw your weight up and over, wanting to make the attempt while Noa was distracted. You let out a breath, thankful it only took you one try, and this time you didn’t need Noa’s help.

You turned, noticing the grin on Noa’s face as he tightened the strap on the pack to secure it. Your spear was still there, resting above the satchel, tied nicely but loosely should you need it. You felt the horse underneath you shuffle, whipping its tail in Noa’s face, and you had to laugh to yourself. With three apes, you probably didn’t need to bring a spear with you. Maybe next time you’ll just bring a small knife, or even forgo the weapon all together. After all, with three apes and as many horses at your side, you were more than confident you could protect each other. And, less weight for the horse to carry.

Said horse shuffled again, still tied to the post. You naturally grabbed the mane, feeling it trot in place. It’s jerking movements steadily progressing, until it was almost full blown bucking. Then, you noticed it wasn’t just yours, hearing a whinny from Soona’s horse. Anaya’s horse reared up on its back hooves, with Anaya holding on for dear life. You called Noa’s name, who was attempting to soothe his horse, looking to Anaya and Soona for an answer of what was happening.

Something was definitely wrong.

Soona stood up in her stirrups, one hand still on the neck of her horse in a comforting gesture. She scanned the area, sniffing loudly before her eyes widened, lowering herself and turning towards us, “Need to leave…Noa need to leave…now.”

Anaya’s head jerked in the direction of something behind you, screeching out, “Noa move!”

You had just enough time to turn to see a large, black mass charge towards Noa. He leapt off the ground, using the horse as leverage. He landed on the concrete steps of the library, somewhat off kilter. Ready to move again, stopped only by his horse rearing up again, Noa tried his best to assess the situation. Soona’s and Anaya’s horses followed suit, bucking and stomping their feet at the mass beneath them.

A boar.

You heard the squeal and grunts before you saw it’s next charge, the boar moving faster than you thought possible for something that size. It took everything in you to stay in the saddle, hearing Anaya hiss at the animal as Soona prepped her sling. It wouldn’t do her much good you realized, your eyes landing on the spear just an arms length away.

“Soona…Anaya…ride!” Noa yelled, attempting to free his horse while avoiding its wild bucking and the boar’s charging.

You noticed the triangular path it made, attempting to maul anything that wouldn’t kick it, or would hold still long enough. A damaged horse leg meant death for the animal, some distant memory whispered in your brain. The fact the tusks of the boar hadn’t found any soft flesh yet was a miracle. Soona took off immediately, Anaya’s horse attempting a few more stomps before it too took off down the road.

The boar attempted to give chase, just long enough for Noa to finally release the reigns from the post. The next second felt like a minute as you realized how far away you were from the jump of the barricade. You weren’t sure how long these horses could run, knowing they were used to walking long distances. Boars could chase down their enemies for long distances, like apes they were also territorial. Of course, between now and reaching the barricade, if one of the horses was injured…

Your hand was on your spear before you could blink, your feet kicking the horse beneath you into an immediate gallop. Noa’s snarl and subsequent screech would probably haunt you in the afterlife if there was one. You couldn’t look back, hearing him scream, “What are you doing…Stop!”

You couldn’t, the boar already heading straight for you and your horse. You gripped the spear tightly, reminding yourself that humans used to be the dominant species. Humans road horses long before apes did. You also tried to remind yourself what Noa had taught you about riding at a run. Still, your left hand gripped the spear in a firm hold, your right hand winding the horses mane around it like you had as a child. You silently apologized to the horse, letting the reigns rest on the pommel as you prepared for the fight.

The first pass of the boar was uneventful, your horse easily dodging, and you weren’t ready to use your spear just yet, testing the distance. Noa, originally safe on the steps of the library, tried making his way to you by leaping from perch to perch of buildings and old cars. You were relieved that he knew to avoid the ground. A quick turn had you circling the boar, trying to keep the distance close to avoid a charge, but far enough away it couldn’t outright attack.

It lunged, but you were ready, landing a hit to its right shoulder. Blood coated the tip of your spear now, but the blow didn’t so much as make the boar stumble. It followed through on its lunge, but thankfully a kick to its jaw from the back hoof of your horse forced it away. It still stood though, head shaking as it put distance between itself and you. You swallowed, eyes darting towards your horses legs just long enough to see there was no damage.

You heard Anaya and Soona approach tentatively, ready to flank the animal if need be. They didn’t seem to move forward though, allowing you the chance to take it down or scare it off yourself. You were grateful for the confidence, your stomach wanting to rebel against you as the boar charged again. You jabbed lower, more harshly this time to penetrate the fat of its side, close to its underbelly. This time, it ran away from you naturally. Noa’s horse, who seemed to understand now what was happening, was already circling the animal as you had done before.

Avoid charging distance.

You almost felt bad for the creature, blood dripping from its mouth as it started to incessantly charge and run at your horse. Still, you avoided each strike, Noa’s horse skillfully trotting from place to place as you tried to hit a major organ or muscle that would bring the beast down. Strike after strike, and still nothing, just flesh wounds. You decided your strategy needed to change. Your horse would tire eventually, and the cruelty of repeated strikes wounded something in your soul. The boar wouldn’t give up, wouldn’t leave, so you needed to end it.

You had an idea, but if it failed you were probably as good at dead. You noticed Noa keeping time with your movements while also keeping his distance as Soona and Anaya were. If it did fail, there was a small chance they could get to you in time. With that small hope, you unwound the horses mane from your wrist, gripping the reigns instead, turning the horse from the boar’s next charge and running it in the opposite direction. This seemed to confuse all parties present.

The boar, of course, did what you knew it would. It gave chase, charging relentlessly for your horse’s legs. You allowed it to chase, turning your horse around again to stab once more as you had been doing. Another wound, but still it stood. You weren’t striking hard enough, deep enough. You were too weak, too far away. You sent your horse galloping again, headed straight for Anaya and Soona. Their faces didn’t seem to understand what your plan was, but a quick glance at Noa showed you he had some idea what you were up to.

Your right leg was out of the stirrup, your hips screaming as you kept them wide enough to keep your seat, but bent your knee and tucked your leg as close to your body as possible. Your foot braced underneath you as much as it could, and you tested your weight on your left foot in the stirrup. It was solid. You held it there, turning to see the boar gaining once more.

That’s when your right hand released the reigns, both hands gripping your spear as you did the quickest maneuver of your life. You inverted your stance, left heel in the stirrup now as your toes pointed outwards, standing on said foot, your right leg swung over then in a phantom dismount. The momentum on your left side felt like you had been bucked off the horse, sending you straight for the boar. The tip of your spear was aimed for the center of the boars head, where snout met skull, right between its eyes.

The force of you leap from the saddle had been enough to carry you directly into it, feeling the spear slice through flesh and bone. You allowed yourself to launch forward in a type of pole vault past the boar as it dropped, releasing your spear. The last thing you wanted was to get trapped underneath the animal, whether or not your stunt had been enough to kill it. You hit the ground, nothing close to gently. You bounced and rolled a few feet, hearing fabric rip and your bones shake. You felt the burning of your palms against the asphalt as you made a single attempt to stop yourself before you willed your body into a limp state.

When you finally stopped moving, you felt sore all over. You wondered briefly if anything was broken, but a quick flex of your arm and leg muscles confirmed that it was just soreness. You couldn’t hear anything other than a slight ring at first, senses coming back to you slowly. How long had you been on the ground? You raised your head, the muzzle of Noa’s horse the first thing you saw. The sound of snuffling faintly reached your ears, the hairs on the top of your head moving from the force of the horse’s breath. You reached up, patting its nose with the tips of your fingers before laboriously lifting yourself up into a kneeling position. You kept your bleeding hands clutched into your lap, palms pressed into the material of your pants.

That’s when everything came into view.

The boar was still on the ground, your spear still protruding from its head. Soona and Anaya were heading towards it, their eyes locked on you though. Noa’s horse had moved to your left, out of your line of sight now. It was standing behind you as you looked to where Noa had been. He wasn’t there now, he was…suddenly beside you. He called your name again, the marvel of hearing it three times in one day had a small spark of joy shoot through you.

You tried to focus on what he said, but everything was coming in too fast for you to process. You could see Anaya grab the spear from the boar’s head as they rode towards you. Noa gripped your chin in his hand, turning your head towards him. His face came so close to yours, but you couldn’t back up, his grip iron. He sniffed loudly, his other hand smoothing around your head and digging into your hair.

He looked confused, but you couldn’t figure out why. He pulled at the edges of your shirt and your jacket around your neck, hands trailing down your arms then. He moved on to your back, leaning you forward with that same hand grasping your chin. His other hand roamed the expanse of your spine, swiping up the hair at the back of your neck. You felt his hand move again before stilling, unable to disguise the clear look of shock on his face. When his hand came back into view he was holding the entire backing of your jacket. The frayed ends and shredded middle clued you in to what that ripping noise had been. It basically saved your back from looking like your hands.

Soona and Anaya dismounted then, Anaya carrying your spear as they approached carefully, both sniffing the air. Soona said something you couldn’t hear, head foggy but starting to clear up the longer you sat there. Looking around them to the animal at their backs, you found your voice enough to ask, “Is it dead?”

“You should be dead!” Noa’s booming voice suddenly echoed in your ears.

You cringed away, groaning from the noise, “Not so loud.”

“He is right,” Soona’s soft voice brushed by then. “Whatever that was…should not have worked.”

Anaya seemed very excited as he proclaimed, “But it did…you killed it!”

You nodded slowly, not sure you could trust your legs to stand, but needing to either way. Noa’s hand on your shoulder stopped you. You looked up at him as he demanded, “Do not move…you are injured…smell blood.”

“I do too,” Soona confirmed.

You looked down then, pools of drying blood spreading across the material covering your lap. You turned your palms then, seeing the broken skin for the first time as you raised them up for the apes inspection.

Soona looked very concerned, turning to Noa as Anaya made small, rapid sounding hoots of concern. Noa did not hesitate, digging into the side bag on his horse and pulling out a small pouch of red looking paste. He smeared his fingers with it before slathering it onto your palm. The sting was immediate, causing you to hiss and jerk away out of instinct, but Noa did not allow you to go far with a hand on your back.

Your awareness pivoted to the warm leathery feel of his hand as it touched the bare skin of your back, only then remembering the state of your clothes. Your shirt was still in one piece, but sliced up just the same. Once he knew you wouldn’t move again, he yanked the wrap on his left arm from his body. He immediately began wrapping your left hand, the blood soaking through the first few passes before finally being confined to just your hand.

Noa looked to your right hand, seeing he had excess materiel. He made to rip the band, but Anaya stopped him, pulling away his own arm wrap and handing it to Noa. He said nothing, but you nodded towards Anaya, gasping through the pain of the red paste once more. “Thank you, A-Anaya.”

He grimaced, but grunted, “For Echo…anything.”

Noa finished wrapping your right hand, looking down at your pants as if you had soiled them. You remembered then, that Echo blood is revolting to apes, which probably explains the looks of disgust they were sharing. Anaya pivoted away from the group, taking a few steps towards the boar, then swiveled back before asking, “How…get home?”

“We…will not.” Noa responded with a sense of finality to his tone, offering you an arm to help you stand. You stumbled, but quickly caught yourself with his help. At first you thought they meant you, until Noa clarified, “Too big…hide too damaged…predator will clean for us…come nightfall.”

“But she fought,” Soona protested as Noa spotted your weight, making your way towards his horse. “Her honest kill…must be honored…we witnessed it…that is the law.”

Anaya was suddenly in charge of your weight, Noa passing you off to him as he mounted. He huffed, nostrils actually flaring as he argued with Soona, “Nothing we can do…out here…need to focus on…getting Echo home.”

Soona, not to be deterred, stamped her right hand into her left palm, “It is the law…Noa!”

“Law does not matter,” Noa hissed. He turned his gaze to Anaya, whose arm was wrapped around your waist and his other hand was holding your head. He refused to hand you over while Noa was fighting with Soona, which only seemed to enrage him more. “Will be dark…by the time we get back…do not have time for this…need Echo to be home…to be safe…for all of us to be safe!”

“Why does the law…not matter Noa?” Soona pushed.

You saw every muscles in Noa’s body tense, his breathing harsh as he and Soona stared each other down. You felt Anaya flinch beneath you before he grunted, “If that is the reason…then Noa should have…courage to say it.”

You felt like you were missing something important, but all you could focus on was how upset Noa was. You wanted to comfort him, but even now you felt yourself getting weaker the longer you stood. You allowed more of your weight to rest with Anaya, who had to readjust his grip to keep you upright. Still, he would not hand you to Noa.

Said Ape jumped from the saddle, anger burning in his eyes as he stared at Soona. You thought he would take you from Anaya by force as his gaze shifted, but instead he shouldered past you. He was out of your line of sight, but a few moments later you heard what sounded like the snapping of bones. You flinched each time, the sound sending chills up your spine.

When Noa returned, he grunted. You could see him now, in his left hand were the two tusks of the boar. His right hand, covered in what you assumed was it’s blood, raised towards your head. He paused before touching you, eyes softening as he silently waited for your permission. You hummed your approval before he made, what felt like, a W between your brows on your forehead.

Soona came towards you then, placing a hand on the top of your head, Anaya’s hand already occupying a side. Noa placed his on the remaining space, saying, “You have protected…the Eagle Clan…with this honest kill…in front of the witnesses…of your bravery…in the name of the elders who came before…as Master of Birds I…honor you now.”

You felt their hands, all but Anaya’s anyway, leave your body then. You remained confused, feeling as if something important had just happened, but you weren’t sure what. You supposed it was the clan’s way of thanking someone.

Soona looked to you then, patting your cheek, “Very proud…amazing Echo.”

Anya hooted lowly, “Very honored…Noa will explain…later.”

“We must go now,” Noa grunted as he mounted his horse once more.

Anaya did not hesitate to help hoist you into Noa’s waiting arms now. Once you were settled, a whimper catching in the back of your throat as the spreading of your legs hurt the places where your thighs had hit the asphalt. You tried to massage the pain away, but it was too deep set in. You closed your eyes, willing to grin and bare it until you were tucked into your bed tonight.

“Anaya…Soona,” Noa called. “Lead the way…home…will follow you…keep eye on Echo.”

Both apes nodded, Anaya making a hand gesture that you did not catch in time. Just in case, you signed back, Do not worry. Echo fine.

As the group made their way towards the barricade, you heard Noa whisper, as if he did not want to be heard by the other two, “Do not…do that again…very dangerous…could have been…hurt worse.”

You hummed, “I’ll try not to.”

“You are too intelligent...to be this foolish” Noa huffed.

Your brow creased, “A simple thank you would be enough. Y’know Soona’s sling, couldn’t have killed it. If it would have ripped into one of the horses legs you would have had a dead horse on your hands. I know you care for your horses just as you do your eagles.”

You were unprepared for the horse to run, your body a rag doll as Noa’s arm once again wrapped around you. The jump came and went so quickly, though you did yelp in pain when it landed. Noa’s grip did not leave you, and you allowed yourself to lean back against him. You were so tired, the setting sun reminding you that there was still an hour ride ahead of you.

Noa sighed, “Did thank you…and yes…I know…still…do not put yourself…in danger again…you are safe…with us…we can…protect you.”

“I know,” you mumbled. “I just wanted to help.”

You felt Noa’s other hand come up to stroke his fingers through your tangled hair. Something about that seemed odd, but you couldn’t pinpoint why as the pain slowly dulled the longer you rode. The gentle rock back and forth seemed to soothe you further. You jerked, almost falling asleep before crashing back into your body. You forced your eyes open then, trying to stay awake.

Noa chuckled, “You are tired…rest.”

“I’m okay,” you replied.

“Your body wants sleep,” Noa replied. “Listen to it and give it…what it wants.”

You hummed, feeling Noa pull you in closer to him. Your entire weight braced on his chest. He was warm, and as you let your eyes slip closed, you felt your head swivel to rest in the crook of his neck where it met his shoulder. You could hear his heartbeat, it was strong and steady, adding to the warmth of him and the rocking of the horse. You would lose this battle with sleep.

You felt Noa’s arm tighten around you, securing you to him. “Sleep…I have you.”

You were already half asleep when you whispered back, “You always do.”

#planet of the apes #pota #kingdom of the planet of the apes #kotpota #noa #noa x reader #noa pota #fanfiction #planet of the apes x reader #anaya #soona pota #kotpota soona #soona #kotpota anaya #anaya pota #noa x human reader #kotpota noa #noa kotpota #slippery slope series

150 notes · View notes