#to me they are he/her x she/him & i will hear NOTHING else

[burnforyou]

FRAT PARTY - LUIGI MANGIONE x READER

!SUMMARY! frat president!Luigi x uptight!nerdy!reader. pure fluff! a lazy short one for my fluff enjoyers.

!WARNINGS! none really, just alcohol.

his eyes scanned the party carefully, until he saw you. he stopped in his tracks, immediately doing a double take.

i didn't know she attended parties. especially frat parties. she should be in her bed at this hour, curled up with a good book, not here, at this disgusting party full of drunk fucks who are just trying to get their dicks wet.

luigi plops down on the couch next to you, resting his arm on the cushion behind you.

"didn't expect to see you here," he flashes his bright smile at you.

"I'm here for my friend," she says, gesturing to another girl in the crowd.

"she doesn't seem to be appreciating the fact that you're here," he looks down at you, taking in your outfit. It's not what you usually wear, its different. its not you. you look uncomfortably uptight in a short, tight skirt and tank.

"well, shes my friend, and she's drunk, so she's not in her right mind," you try defending her.

"hey Luigi, someone's fighting!" some random frat brother yells at him.

"fuck," he sighs, rubbing his forehead. "I'll be back," he pats your thigh, "stay right here, alright?"

you nod and watch him stride away to handle the situation.

another body sits down on the couch next to you and you look up from your phone smiling, expecting Luigi. instead, you're met with the face of one of his frat brothers.

"you look too sober," he says to you, holding out his red solo cup to you. "take a sip."

you look between him and the cup, unsure.

"it won't kill you. I'm Jake by the way."

fuck it, you think, grabbing the cup and taking a big swig of the mysterious drink. it actually tasted pretty good, but burned a little going down your throat.

"y/n," you say after swallowing.

"pretty name for a pretty girl," he smiled at you. "so, what brings you here tonight?" he flirts, taking another sip of the drink you're now sharing.

"oh, I don't know, just wanted to have a fun time," you lie, smirking at him.

"hey, you wanna come with me to get a refill?" he smiles, showing you the bottom of the cup.

"sure!" you spring up. his hand settles in the small of your back and guides you to the kitchen where he mixes one bottle with another and hands the cup back to you.

"try it," he yells over the music. you take a sip and nod.

"pretty good," you take another sip.

luigi takes a swig of a beer, his first drink of the night, watching you two flirt from afar. It's so fake, and nothing like you. he knows you, he knows you're not like that.

before you knew it, he's pumping you full of a mysterious, semi-pleasant tasting drink and singing "I Can't Feel My Face" by The Weeknd in your face, literally.

he was actually kinda cute, but he wasn't your type, per say.

and whats your type? you ask?

oh, just tall, smart, Italian guys with curly hair who kinda look like Luigi Mangione, but aren't him!

not to say Jake wasn't smart, I mean, he goes to UPenn for gods sake. it's just, he's just...

he's not Luigi. he's not your biggest rival in the engineering program, the man who never fails to piss you off and turn you on at the same time.

but he's a good distraction, that's for sure.

speak of the devil: he's standing in front of you now.

but he's not paying attention to you: he's yelling at Jack. or was it Jake?

“you leave her alone, go find someone else to mess with,” he growls in his face, pushing him away.

“or what, luigi? she’s not your girlfriend.” he holds his hands up, faking innocence.

“or i’ll fucking kill you,” he growls lowly so only jake could hear him, afraid of scaring you. he watches jake stalk away and looks back to you, his face softening when he sees you looking up at him.

"what are you doing?" he talks down to you, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you slightly. you blink up at him in shock.

"what do you mean?" you say stubbornly, your skin burning where he's holding you.

"you're not being yourself," he argues with you.

"you don't even know me!" you shout at him, running away (or trying to, in your drunken state) to go dance.

you join some random girls and dance drunkenly with them, having the time of your life. your first time drunk. you had no idea it was this fun. if you knew how much fun you'd be having, you'd be attending frat parties weekly.

you keep Luigi in the back of your mind as you grind on a random guy that joined you.

"give me that," he growls at a random brother, grabbing a beer bottle from him and chugging it down. he leans against a wall and watches you, never taking his eyes off of you.

when "Come Get Her" by Rae Sremmurd starts playing, a random girl pulls you onto a table with her.

somebody come get her, she's dancing like a stripper

hoots and hollers come from around you as you and another girl literally dance like strippers. it felt like something straight out of a movie: the nerdy girl turns hot and starts dancing on tables. the world around you starts to spin.

and then you're falling.

falling hard from the table, the ground looking so appealing, much nicer than the table.

until warm, familiar hands catch you.

"alright, that's it, you're done." Luigi says to you, effortlessly carrying you bridal style. you stroke his face and smile.

"you caught me, my prince charming!" you cheer, wrapping your hands around his neck, the rest of the party becoming purely background noise.

"you're so handsome," you giggle drunkenly, holding his face in one of your hands. he pretends to not be basking in your attention.

"I'm taking you up to my room. you're cut off for the night." he says roughly, carrying you up the stairs. the music and voices fade away.

"whyyyy," you whine, "I wanna par-tay!"

"you're done for the night, hun." he bends down to open the door without dropping you. he softly drops you on his bed and stands over you.

"you think you're funny, don't you?" you cross your arms across your chest, pushing your tits together purposefully.

"what?" he furrows his eyebrows, his eyes flickering down and up again.

"will you just leave me alone? you're ruining my night!" you try and walk away again, but he grabs onto your arm and pulls you flush against him. you hold intense eye contact for a second and take in his features. his beauty distracts you from your argument.

you break away and sit down on the edge of his bed, looking around his bedroom.

"y/n, you're going to regret acting like this in the morning, if you even remember this in the morning!" he accidentally shouts.

hes being so mean to me, you thought. why is he being so mean to me?

suddenly, your mood swings and tears fill your bambi eyes. you look up at him, your bottom lip quivering.

"hey, what's wrong?" he sits down on the edge of the bed next to you and holds your soft face in his hand, his eyes full of concern.

"why are you doing this to me?" a tear falls from your eyes and he wipes it away immediately, wanting to throw up.

you're crying and it's all his fault. fuck, he's the worst person in the world.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, I just- I..." he trails off. you look back up at him, sniffling.

"I just want to protect you. people do bad things to smart, pretty girls like you."

"why do you want to protect me? why me? there's a million other girls out there, why are you doing this to me?" you ask through your sobs.

"because I really like you, okay? I like you more than any other girls." he pulls you into his chest and kisses the top of your head. he rubs your back, attempting to comfort you.

"you like like me?" you ask against his hard chest. his chest rises and falls as he chuckles.

"yes, y/n, I like like you."

your heart skips a beat at his confession.

"that's good, cause I think I like like you too." you yawn and wipe your last tears.

"are you tired?" he asks softly, looking down at you in his arms, struggling to believe this is real. you nod.

"you can sleep here, I'll get you a change of clothes."

you settle back onto his king bed, making yourself comfortable on his pillows. he throws a t shirt and boxers on you, turning around. you weakly discard your outfit, consisting of your friends clothes, and slip his oversized tee on.

"I'm done," you say quietly, he turns around. he looks at you, snuggled in his bed, and sighs.

you pat the cold bed beside you.

"lay with me."

he pulls his shirt and shorts off shamelessly in front of you. your tired eyes take in the shape of his strong body. he slips under the covers next to you and pulls you by your waist into his chest.

MASTERLIST - PREV WORK

is this too cliche be honest

!TAGS!

@strawbrriess @bellobambino @f4nfic-lover @btcowboy @chmpgneprblem @soggysouppp @hereandqueer6540 @poohkie90 @bricapallen16 @miarosalie11 @v1rtualsalvat10n @hypnotizedbyhood @webanglikethat @croucify @cumdnmp @ga33y3 @zeervzn @marzipanlvr @seesaw-it @raekensluver @ddlydevotion @hujirose @darleneslane

requested by @for-lovers-always

[staylovesmiley]

Give Me Your TMI~ Chapter 6

₊˚⊹ᰔ Pairing; Yang Jeongin x Fem!reader, Stray kids x Fem!reader

₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ Summary; In a world where Humans and Hybrids should be living as equals, Hybrids are still viewed as being closer to their animalistic side than their humanistic. Deep in the woods lives a band of misfit hybrids who reject these societal views and keep to themselves, choosing to live away from humans. What happens when the youngest of this rogue group meets a lost Human girl, befriending her after an incident where he must rely on her for help?

₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ Warnings; hybrid!au, female!reader, angst, mild violence, mentions of sexual harassment/assault and discrimination, she/her pronouns used for reader, this is very loosely based off the overall themes/tones of the manga and anime fruits basket~

The coming weeks were filled of soft moments with the hybrids. Ever since you had confronted Chan about the flowers the wolf had warmed up to you a considerable amount, though he still never initiated any form of affection with you. Instead he chose to bask in the moments you would give him a warm smile in passing or when you would come to tell him dinner was ready, your voice so sweet he thought he’d surely get a toothache. The best though, was the morning he seemed to sleep in a bit too late. It was unusual for him to miss breakfast and you had been so worried you made your way into his room and sat on the edge of his bed where the wolf hybrid was deep in his slumber. You couldn’t help but stare at how peaceful and handsome he looked in his sleep. Carefully you carded your fingers through his soft dark curls, admiring his strong features until suddenly his hand shot up and wrapped around your wrist.

You startled lightly, jumping at the contact before you were pulled down against his chest snuggly. You were only dazed for a moment before giggling as you cozied up against him. “Sleepy?” You whispered to him, fingers still combing his hair back and scratching lightly behind his tall dark ears the way Jeongin seemed to like. “Hmph-“ he grumbled, nosing against your neck as he slowly gained consciousness. “Pretty?” He sounded so soft and confused, your heart melting as you pulled back to meet his gaze. “Yeah?” He smiled, a goofy half-asleep smile and shook his head before nuzzling back into the crook of your neck, the opposite side from where Jeongin’s bite was quickly scarring over. “Nothing, just making sure I wasn’t dreaming…”

Today you were in the living room, curled up on the couch with Hyunjin laying his full body over yours as you played with his long dark hair and absentmindedly twisted it into braids before undoing and redoing them again. The small fire place was lit, heating the cabin nicely from the chill of winter outside and casting the two of you in a soft orange glow.

You could hear Minho in the kitchen rummaging around, about to get up and check on him when you heard the older cat call out for someone else. “Changbin! Come here for a second?”

The bunny hybrid came down from his room upstairs, a confused look on his face as he approached the older. “What’s up, hyung?” Minho smiled sweetly, pointing to the fridge and cabinets. “We are out of a lot of things we get from town…do you think you could take Pretty with you and pick these up for me? I made you a list.” At the sound of your name you perked up, looking over the back of the couch to see Changbin watching you with an unreadable expression. “Um, yeah okay. Pretty? Borrow Lixie or Sung’s winter coat and meet me outside?” You nodded, giving Hyunjin a kiss to his forehead as an apology for having to leave him so abruptly before jogging up the stairs to find the two hybrids in Felix and Minho’s room. “Hey can I borrow a winter coat from one of you? Minho asked me to go to town with Changbin?” You were slightly confused, having thought the town was too far of a walk and you hadn’t seen any car around the property in your time living there. You weren’t about to question them though and decided to just go with it.

Felix was up in a second, grabbing a thick coat and sweater from the closet before holding them out to you. You see, even though they had brought your clothes from your camp they had all been of the summer variety since you hadn’t been planning to be in the forest for so long when you had originally packed.

Since it had gotten so cold you had to resort to borrowing clothes from the hybrids, your current attire consisting of a pair of sweatpants from Jisung, though the hole made for his tail had been sewn shut temporarily for you, and a long sleeve from Jeongin.

You took the items from the cat and gave him a smile as you thanked him, slipping the sweater and coat on over the shirt you already wore before heading back downstairs to slip on your sneakers. The only thing you couldn’t borrow from there were shoes, unfortunately, so they would have to do. Walking out the front door you saw Changbin waiting with his fluffy black ears tucked under his beanie and his tail completely covered by his pants and coat. He gave you a soft smile before waving you over. “Ready to go?” You nodded, looking from the hybrid to out over the forest. “How long is the walk?” You asked, voice a bit wary at the thought of how long it could take them to get down the mountain and back in the cold.

Changbin gave you a funny look before shaking his head. “We won’t be walking.” You then saw that he was standing beside a bicycle with a metal basket attached to the front of it. “Oh! Oh that makes a lot more sense���” the bunny laughed at your reaction, shaking his head as he began pushing the bike towards the woods. “Come on, we’re gonna wanna get going so we can get back before dark.” You nodded, following behind him quickly to not lose track of him once you entered the forest.

The ride to town wasn’t terrible, with Changbin riding and you standing on the little pegs on the back wheel with your arms wrapped tightly around his waist. The wind bit at any exposed skin as you flew down the winding road down the mountain.

by the time you made it to town your cheeks were ruddy and your nose tinted pink. “You okay? You were holding on pretty tight back there.” The hybrid teased, causing your already flushed cheeks to deepen a shade as you ducked away from him. “Just worried I might fall off with how fast we were going…do you do this often?” You were quick to change the subject, following behind him closely as he chained the bike up and headed for a small shop that seemed to be somewhat of a convenience store.

The town was pretty small, nestled in a rural area on the side of the mountain near the base. It was clearly still very far from most of civilization, perfect for locals who lived scattered around the vast forests or hikers passing through on the way to or from a trip on one of the trails your husband had been telling you about, although that could have all been a rouse for him to create a reason for the two of you to go on a camping trip to the mostly isolated mountain in the first place.

The shop keeper greeted Changbin and yourself kindly, going back to reading her paper as the two of you perused the shelves. In a cloth tote bag he had brought with you the hybrid began putting things like canned fruits and vegetables into the bag, looking over the list Minho had given him briefly as he continued shopping.

As you stayed in the shop longer you began wandering off from him, looking over what the store had to offer when you noticed a display full of Christmas ornaments and your eyes widened. Was it really already Christmas? You couldn’t believe it had been that long since you had been on the mountain. “Bin?” You called out as the hybrid was already up by the shop keeper to purchase the items he had collected. An idea had sprung up in your mind and you absentmindedly fiddled with something deep in the pockets of your coat that you had remembered to grab before leaving. “Yes, pretty?” He answered, joining you after paying for the groceries. “Can I look around without you for a bit? I just wanna check out the different shops…it’s been so long-“ He smiled, nodding as he understood how much of an adjustment it must have been for you to go from living in a more populated area, at least he assumed, to living so isolated in the woods for months. “I’ll be a few doors down at the butchers, okay? Meet me by the bike when you’re finished.”

Once left alone you smiled triumphantly and began picking up a few things of your own, your plan slowly coming together in your mind the more stores you visited.

It was about an hour later when you finally met back up with the bunny, his smile bright when he saw you coming towards him. “There you are! Thought for a moment you’d run off or gotten kidnapped.” You laughed, hitting his arm playfully before walking alongside him back the way you came.

Since the way back was mostly uphill you both chose to walk with the groceries both in the basket and hanging off the handlebars. “So what all did you end up getting? Looks like there are a lot of bags here…” You shrugged, trying to hide your smile. “Just some stuff I needed…ya know- I didn’t have too much with me when I was left here.” He nodded slowly, feeling like you weren’t being completely truthful but decided not to press the issue further. “So how are you able to pay for things from the stores here if you guys don’t have jobs?” You asked, the curiosity had been eating at you since Minho had asked you to go to town but you hadn’t been able to find the right time to mention it. “Hyunjin. You know how sometimes when we finish our chores he is in our room painting?” You nodded slowly, confused as to where this was leading but you waited for him to continue. “Well we bring them to town and a shop owner lets us sell them there and we come by to collect the money from them every other week.” Your eyes widened comically at the revelation. You knew that the ferret hybrid enjoyed painting and sketching in his free time, and he was extremely talented, but you hadn’t realized he sold the paintings he made. “That’s so smart- I don’t know why I didn’t connect the dots earlier considering he is always working on a new project but I never see them around the house for very long.”

The rest of the walk was spent in relative silence, the freezing wind and uphill trek making it a bit difficult to catch your breaths as it was.

By the time you arrived back at the cabin the sun was already setting and the two of you wasted no time putting the bike back in the shed next to the chicken coop and carrying your purchases inside. You were quick to place the things you had bought in yours and Jeongin’s room, joining Minho in the kitchen afterwards to wash up and help with dinner like usual.

“What are you up to, pretty? Changbin says you’ve been being very secretive since you were in town…not plotting to leave us, are you?” Though his tone was teasing you could tell some worry laid behind it. “Never. Just needed some…uh- feminine things.” The cat made a face, his curiosity quickly killed as he finished putting away the things Changbin had purchased for him. “Got it, no more questions from me.” You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you began working on the nights meal.

Late that night after everyone had already gone to bed you snuck out into the living room with the bags of stuff you had purchased earlier in town and got to work, trying your best to be as quiet as possible as to not wake the hybrids either their sensitive hearing abilities.

You were up all throughout the night making sure everything was perfect, having passed out on the couch once you were done as you were too tired to make it back to bed.

That’s where they found you the next morning, curled up with one of the throw blankets and clutching a couch cushion to your chest. “Pretty? What are you doing sleeping out here?” Jeongin was rubbing the sleep from his eyes, focusing on your sleeping form and not noticing the decoration now covering the room.

At the sound of his voice you woke, rising slowly to meet his gaze but it was no longer fixed on you.

There was tinsel wrapped around the bannister and handrailsof the staircase, as well as lining the mantle over the fire place with a set of warm toned string lights. You couldn’t figure out how to sneak a Christmas tree into the cabin, or where you would be able to find one unless you went out into the forest and chopped one down yourself, so instead you had set the presets you had wrapped along the hearth of the fireplace. There were four on each end, one for each of the hybrids, and more tinsel was laid out around them making them look like they were resting in little sparkly nests.

The whole house smelled of the sugar cookies you had stayed up baking as you decorated, the finished product placed on a tray for you all to decorate later with icing and sprinkles you had also gotten while in town.

Jeongin stared in wonder as he did a little spin around the room to take it all in, the other hybrids slowly filing into the living room as well as each of them woke up to start the day.

“Pretty what is all this..?” Minho questioned, a soft smile playing on his lips as he approached you. “Well- when we were in town I saw the decorations and realized it was almost Christmas! So…I wanted to do something nice for you all as a thank you for taking me in-“

Everyone was looking around with wide, curious eyes as the entered the room…all except for Changbin who looked physically tense at the sight. “Um- I know it isn’t much but i promise I’ll clean it all up afterwards!”

They all stood around, clearly unsure of what to do and you looked at them a bit confused until Minho spoke up. “You did amazing, pretty.” The older cat said as he made his way over to where you still sat on the couch and have a soft kiss to your forehead. “We’ve just never had a Christmas before.” Oh, you hadn’t realized that they may have never had the chance to celebrate holidays before. Now their hesitation and curiosity made more sense to you.

Moving over on the couch you patted the spot beside you before motioning to the rest of the living room. “Okay um- come and take a seat and then I can give you guys your presents?” That seemed to snap them all out of the trance they seemed to be placed in, making their way over to find a seat either on the couch, an arm chair, or the floor. “We get presents…?” Jisung said softly, brown eyes as wide and soft as ever as he looked towards you hopefully. “Of course you do! You were all on the nice list this year.” You teased, a mischievous grin on your face as you got up and began passing out the gifts you had bought for them one by one. “Don’t open them until I say to, okay?” You instructed them as you handed Jisung his gift, seeing how excited the chipmunk was to be receiving a present.

When you got to Seungmin the hybrid in front of you looked confused, eyeing the small box you had placed in his hands curiously as you moved on to the next person. Changbin still looked frigid where he sat on the floor next to the beagle, causing you to hesitate as you held out a small bagged gift to him. “Um…Binnie? Is everything okay?” Your voice was soft and the bunny looked up at you slowly before forcing a smile once he saw the worry creased in your brow. “Yeah, I’m fine just- this isn’t technically my first Christmas…” you frowned slightly at his words, looking to Minho who simply shook his head and nodded back to the hybrid in front of you. “Oh- well um…you just look a little tense? I’m sorry if I upset you I know some people don’t like how overwhelming this kinda stuff can be I should have-“ Taking pity on you Changbin cut off your ramblings, shaking his head as he placed his hands over yours where they still held on tight to his gift. “Thank you, pretty. This is all so nice….I just don’t have very fond memories associated with the holiday is all. I’ll be okay.” Nodding slowly, you allowed him to take the bag from your hands before moving to sit back down in your spot on the couch next to Jeongin.

You eyed the bunny carefully, feeling there was still more to be said before you turned to look at the rest of the hybrids. Jisung in particular looked like if he didn’t get to open his present soon he’d vibrate out of the chair he was sitting on so you giggled a bit before speaking up. “Okay, you can open them-“ Before the words were even fully out the hybrids all began tearing into the wrapping paper excitedly, even Chan seemed to be full of childlike joy as he opened his own gift.

It wasn’t much, just things you were able to find in the small gift shops that were in town. Minho got a new cook book with recipes you looked over to make sure they used ingredients you had ready access to and would be easy for him to recreate.

Jisung got a romance novel as the hybrid seemed to always want you to tell him stories with similar plot lines, the hybrid didn’t know how to read but you could read it to him and teach him how to read it himself over time.

Felix got little soaps carved into the shape of a cat and little paws that smelled like vanilla and peppermint since he had been complaining about the scent less soaps they had currently being too boring.

Hyunjin got some new pencils and a sketchbook as you were sure his old one was on its last few pages and he was always misplacing his other pencils.

Chan got a bracelet woven with dark leather cords and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched him stare at it with so much joy as he asked Felix to help him put it on.

Jeongin got a stone carving of a fox about the size of his hand, something he could use to decorate his room as he didn’t seem to have many personal effects and the way his face lit up and he nuzzled against your neck with soft whispers of thanks made your heart flutter and something in you preen with satisfaction that you did good in picking his gift…a strange new feeling washing over you as if you could feel the exact joy and excitement as the fox.

Changbin got a pair of thick wool mittens where the tops could be folded back and held in place by a button to turn them into fingerless gloves, something to come in handy on trips to town or when our doing the laundry as you had noticed he didn’t have any when you went out with him the day before.

Lastly, Seungmin, who stared dumbfounded at the baseball he held. You had noticed one day when you were helping Changbin put away the laundry that he had a mitt sitting on his dresser but you didn’t remember seeing a ball anywhere, thinking that maybe he had lost it or never had one to begin with your eyes lit up when you saw it in the little shop. The beagle blinked once, twice, before he suddenly felt wet tears slipping down his cheeks. Quickly, before anyone could notice, he wiped them away and got up silently to go to his room.

You watched with a twinge of sadness as he left, feeling like you may have made a mistake with the gift you had gotten him but oh how wrong you were.

A chorus of thank yous rang out, Jisung even launching himself into your lap and begging you to read to him from his new book which you happily promised to do later after the chores for the morning were finished.

“I also made some cookies for us to decorate if you’d like..? It’s not the healthiest breakfast but it’s something we used to always do as kids growing up was decorate cookies in the morning before our lessons…” Felix’s eyes lit up as he jumped from his seat, almost knocking Chan over with the force where the wolf had been leaning against him to show off his new bracelet. “Yes! I mean- yeah sure that sounds nice..” You giggled at him, shaking your head as you carefully moved Jisung out of your lap and gave both him and Jeongin a kiss on the temple before getting up and following the younger cat into the kitchen. “Can you bring the cookies and decoration supplies to the table? I’m gonna start on making us some hot cocoa to go with them.” The hybrid beamed, nodding so fast his fluffy ears seemed to bounce as he took the trays of cookies to the dining table along with all the various sprinkles and icings you had bought.

As you busied yourself with stirring the chocolately mixture in the pot on the stove, you felt someone come up behind you and give a gentle tug on the sleeve of the sweater you still wore from Felix. “Hm?” You questioned softly, not turning to see who it was though you smelt the strong smell of cedar washing over you. How odd- “Um…P-Pretty?” Oh- that was…Seungmin’s voice. You turned to face him slowly, afraid any sudden movements would scare him off. “Yes, Seung?” The hybrid had his eyes downcast, hands nervously playing with the hem of his sweatshirt as he visibly took a deep breath. “Why did you get me a present when I’m always running away from you…?” His voice sounded so small, so….afraid. Your heart ached to reach out and pull him close but you didn’t want to overwhelm him when he was finally opening up to you. “Like I said…you were all on the nice list. The nice list means you get presents.” You shrugged it off like it was so simple, but the hybrid let out a little huff. “That’s just what they tell small children to get them to behave all year…I saw it in movies.” He was pouting, and god was it so adorable you had to fight the urge to poke his cheeks. “So why did you really get me a present?” You frowned, still stirring the mixture of chocolate and milk as you turned your focus back to your task and away from the hybrid. “Because you deserve nice things, Seungmin. You all do. I know you’ve had to go through so many hardships in your lives and it wasn’t fair to any of you…I don’t know exactly what happened to all of you but I know that it wasn’t right and that you deserved and still deserve so much better than that.” For a moment the room was silent, save for the sounds echoing from the dining room where the hybrids seemed to be creating a competition out of the cookie decorating task you had given them.

Suddenly you felt arms wrapping around you and hot breath fanning over your neck where the beagle nuzzled his face against you seemingly to hide himself or maybe mold into you until you became a single being, you weren’t sure but the embrace was tight and you could feel his body trembling against yours lightly. “Thank you….for everything you are doing for us, for me-“ you felt his tears suddenly wetting the back of your neck and causing the hair there to become damp. “Seung-“ you went to turn around, to embrace him back but his hold on you tightened. “Don’t move! Please- just…just stay like this? Please….” You nodded, the desperation in his voice breaking something inside you and made you want to comfort him more but you listened to him, continuing to stir the hot chocolate in the pot as he silently sobbed against you before pulling away a few moments later. You stayed still a bit longer, getting the feeling he didn’t want to be seen in that state and when you finally did look back he was already gone.

You portioned out the hot chocolate for everyone, bringing it into the dining room on a tray and setting it down before noticing Changbin was still sitting on the living room floor with his mittens in his hands, staring at them with such a blank expression worry began building up inside you once more. You made your way over to him and took a seat beside him quietly, your shoulder brushing his gently as you settled. “Are you sure everything is okay, Bin?” You knew you didn’t have as deep of a connection with the bunny hybrid, his interactions with you having always been neutral even if they were in the more positive side. He always seemed to keep you at arms length, not outright avoiding you like Seungmin or being somewhat hostile like Chan, but not quite the warmth and openness you seemed to receive from the others.

He sighed, blinking slowly before he responded. “I was a Christmas gift.” Oh- you thought for a moment, unsure how to respond to that but before you had a chance to he continued. “I was bought for a little girl, probably about five or six years old? I wasn’t much older than her at the time either…She begged her parents for a bunny but they thought a hybrid would be easier to take care of than a normal pet…” A frown settled on your face but you stayed silent, nodding for him to continue. “At first everything was fine, she would dress me up in her dresses and we would have tea parties and play games but then sometime in the spring she got bored of me…She got new toys for her birthday and seemed to forget all about me. I don’t know why her parents kept me for so long, but I lived there for ten whole years…” at that your eyes widened, your voice softly escaping you. “Ten years?” Nodding, Changbin took a shaky breath and you watched as a few tears slid down his cheeks before landing on where his hands still clutched onto the mittens. “After the first two they moved me out of her room and down the hall…I think they forgot about me too. If it wasn’t for their maids remembering to feed me every once in a while I probably would have starved. I don’t think they even noticed when I climbed out the window and finally escaped but….I���m sorry-“

Confusion painted your expression instantly, why was he apologizing to you? “Changbin why-“ cutting you off, the bunny turned and pulled you close to him as he cried. “You did something so nice for all of us and all I can think about is how if there was never a Christmas then I never would have been placed in that awful home….and all this time I’ve been keeping this- this wall up between us because I’ve been so afraid that eventually you’ll forget about me too and I’ll have to lose you like I lost her-“ immediately you pulled him closer, his salty tears continuing to dampen the hairs at your neck as Seungmin’s had earlier but you didn’t mind. You just held him close as you ran your fingers gently through his soft curly black hair. “Shhh it’s okay, Binnie…I understand. I don’t think I could ever blame you, any of you, for being hesitant or distant with me. It means so much to me that despite all of your negative experiences with humans in the past you’ve given me the chance to stay here…and I’m going to do my dammdest to undo any of the harm those awful people before me caused. You know why?” He sniffled, pulling back just enough to wipe his tears before blinking up at you. “W-Why?” You smiled softly, poking his cheek before leaning in to kiss his forehead gently. “Because you deserve kindness, warmth, love…all of you. Even if it takes time, years even- I’ll continue to try and prove it to you all and make you feel it.”

Softly, you heard a different voice speak up from beside you as Hyunjin came to sit on your other side. “I was a present too…for a little boy on his thirteenth birthday. He didn’t really want a pet or a hybrid but his parents thought he needed to learn some responsibility….it was so lonely in that house- I tried so hard to get him to like me or spend time with me but all he wanted to do was go play out with his friends or play video games. I think I stayed for a few years but I didn’t really keep track of the time…it wasn’t until he got himself a girlfriend that he kicked me out and told me that if I came back he’d send me away to a facility where they use hybrids for test subjects-“ the ferret shivered at the memory, cuddling up to your side as he closed his eyes tight as if to will it away. “You’re so much nicer than he was…and you smell sweeter too- I never thought I’d meet a human who didn’t mind how clingy I can get. Even the others sometimes get annoyed with me for it-“

You gasped, thumping his head lightly before pulling him closer with one arm while the other stayed wrapped around Changbin’s still sniffling form. “Don’t you dare say that, Hyunjin. They aren’t really annoyed with you, only teasing…we all love how soft and sweet your cuddles are. I mean I know I do- and if they were really annoyed they would be a lot more forceful when they tell you to stop. Trust me, I notice things and they always have a goofy smile after telling you to get off them as if they don’t really mean it.”

Hyunjin looked back at where everyone was still decorating cookies, laughing and enjoying each others company, then back to you with soft tearful eyes. “You really think so?” You smiled warmly, leaning in to give a peck to his cheek. “If you want I can ask them to dial it down on the teasing towards you.” He shook his head, laying with his head resting against your shoulder. “No, it’s okay. I can always come to you for snuggles when they are being too mean.” He said with a smile, a slight teasing tone of his own in his voice that made you laugh as you reached up to ruffle his hair gently.

You stayed like that snuggled up with the two hybrids as you both watched the rest of your little family have a playful competition over who had decorated the best cookies. It wasn’t until you heard genuine shouting and arguing that you jumped up to intervene, having to pull Jeongin away from a very smug looking Minho while Chan scolded him for eating the fox’s cookie before he got the chance to show you and you began petting the youngest’s hair and reassuring him that he could make another one and you would watch to make sure you got to see the finished product.

Far away from the mountain, with the busy city life buzzing outside, a young man sat in a police station at one of the lead detectives desks as he fidgeted nervously with his wedding band.

“Tell me again sir, from the top, when was the last time you saw your wife?”

author’s note; dun dun DUUUUNNN~~~ hehe Merry (belated) Christmas!! This was an emotional rollercoaster I feel but I hope you all enjoy~ (mild spoiler warning but you may wanna prepare for like- some of the most angst I’ve ever written to come in the next two to three chapters- SORRY)

taglist; (pink users I wasn’t able to tag) @coastinglove @estella-novella @chancloud8 @skzswife @motheraiya55 @zofia515 @skybluelixie @breadedloafs @inaribu00 @silly250 @royal-shinigami @thatgirlangelb @bby-boo4u @emmxxsworld @vampkittenb82 @h0rnyp0t @alisonyus @im-sinking-in-mud @ihrtlix @mrs-hwangh @danixiulin @wolfo2027 @kiaralynn3838 @ateez-atiny380 @daceyena @bookswillfindyouaway @blackcatpandora @popcatx0 @corgilover20 @marshmelonie @sassy-snassy @straykidslover2024 @xgridx

[loganhowlettshousewife]

logan howlett x latina!reader

series masterlist - my masterlist

“i need to learn spanish,” logan says out of the blue as you’re carefully doing your makeup. he likes to watch you get ready in the mornings, and though you don’t understand his fascination with the process you’ve been doing for years, it’s nice to have him around.

“is there a reason for this?” you ask, trying not to allow the conversation to distract you from the task at hand. you’ve gotten good at this, at both getting ready and talking to him, having conversations about everything and nothing, the kind of conversations he would never have with anyone else.

you met logan a few months ago, when he accompanied a group of mutant kids to canada, almost dying in the process to save them. he’d been on the verge of death when you found him, skin sallow and pale from the intense blood loss, breathing ragged. it hits you sometimes how lucky you are to have found him in time, to have been able to bring him back to his daughter - every day you’re infinitely grateful.

he’s struggled to adapt to life here. eden, a sanctuary for mutants that reminds him a bit too much of the x-mansion, the place where everything in his life went wrong. where he’d let his guard down little by little, letting people see past his mask, making relationships only to watch them all die. he could do nothing to save them.

so he hardly interacts with anyone other than you and laura kinney, his daughter, though lately she’s decided she wants everyone to call her laura howlett. the look on logan’s face when he told you was one you’d never forget: joy and fear and confusion, adoration for his little girl tinged with the anxiety of knowing that anyone close to him usually suffered terribly.

“laura,” he grumbles, which is the answer you expected. despite living in mexico for quite a few years, he didn’t pick up much spanish, and certainly not enough to understand laura’s rapid-fire quips. “she always says shit in spanish when she doesn’t want me to know what she’s sayin’.”

you laugh. laura’s a bright kid, and it’s true that she enjoys insulting logan in spanish, but only at the same frequency as her english insults towards him. most of the time her spanish comments are neither good nor bad, just stream of consciousness comments. she enjoys logan’s frustration at not being able to understand her, so really it doesn’t matter what she says, just that he hears it.

“i can try to teach you,” you reply, “but i’ve never taught anyone a language before, so be warned i may not be good at it.”

“a lot of people here speak spanish. i didn’t ask them.” logan says, “you’re the only person i can stand bein’ around for more than a few minutes, so you got a better shot than anyone else.”

you feel a rush of giddy excitement flow through you in response to his words. it’s not a secret that you find logan horribly, unbearably attractive with his salt-and-pepper hair and his beard and his deep eyes and his arms and honestly you could spend hours listing every one of his attractive features.

the point is, you want to kiss him stupid, and with the way he lingers around you in moments like these, makeup half-done and your bedsheets still rumpled from sleep, makes you hope that he might feel the same. maybe spending more time together is just what you need to figure it out.

“we can start tomorrow.” you agree.

diversity december taglist: @raeinyourdreams @meetmypointlessaddiction @chubbyhedgehog @yxtkiwiyxt @isepod @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @deaky-with-a-c

latina reader: @naggywaggy @mami-veracruz @spencerswh0r3 @taextannie @gl1ndathegoodwitch @uncertified-doc

[rotten-pomegranate]

What about some light non-con drabble with yandere Shalnark?

Hear me out. He is just cruel in his own way.

Imagine how he fucks his beloved until exhaustion. And after all, as if nothing had happened, he falls asleep hugging her like a teddy bear🫢🫢

Yandere shalnark x virgin reader

Yes, I see this, the kind of yandere I see him as matches this so well, this kinda got away from me, thank you sm for your patience

Tags: @shalscumbunny

Warnings: Noncon, light Noncon but still some struggling, reader is being pinned down, forced kissing, hickeys, groping, afab, he lays on her and she’s getting crushed

/|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\

It starts like normal, him groping and touching you , his hands are always on you when he’s around normally, but as soon as he gets back from troupe business he’s all over you a little more then normal

He’s gone as far as groping you under your shirt but never this far, he has your pants off, discarded somewhere in the room, his face is in your neck while one of his hands hold both your arms above your head while his free one gropes whatever he can reach, you could feel his hot breath every time he came up m from the assault in your neck

Before you know it he’s grinding his clothed cock against you, it’s already hard, there was nothing you could do, no begging our promising to give up something else he could take just as easily as he was gonna have what he wanted

His hand goes to the waistband of your underwear while still pinning you with the other one and quickly gets to work pulling your underwear down just enough to have easy access to your most precious bits, parts of you you’ve done your best to keep him away from

“Aww, it’s just as cute as I imagined, I can’t believe I waited so long” his eyes are wide and bright but there’s no remorse or sympathy behind them, only lust and want

Lust and want that could match the fear and sadness he’s most definitely choosing to ignore in yours

“Your not very wet” he has a little frown on his face when he brings his mouth down and give an experimental lick, your arms now pinned down to your stomach

You jump and try to wriggle your bottom half away from him only to have his free hand pin down you hip without pausing his assault

The way he was eating you out was clearly not to provide pleasure rather to get you wet enough for him, a fact you where almost grateful for

When his head comes up his smile is back, “that should be good” he makes brief eye contact with you while he’s coming back up

He takes of his boxers and to your horror he pushes them in your mouth “just incase you wanna scream” his smile is mocking

You couldn’t bring yourself to look down, you didn’t wanna see what would soon be in you

“This is probably gonna hurt so just try and relax” he pauses, thinking for a moment “or don’t haha” his laugh so light as if he wasn’t about to do something irreversible to you, you feel him line himself up, his tip kissing your entrance before he starts pushing, his grip tightening around your wrist when he finally gets the head past your tight muscle

It hurt, bad, you could feel yourself breaking, and the small trail of something wet going down your thigh could only be blood

He thrusts his hips again, you felt to full, stretched to wide and he was unnaturally deep

Your body begged to let sound out, but the cloth in your mouth only allowed for your cries of pain to come out distorted and muffled

“See, It’s not to bad” not to bad, he says that as if he wasn’t holding your down and forcing himself on you, as if your couldn’t feel yourself breaking just for him to pleasure himself with your body

He doesn’t start slow, he starts with one big thrust and then a steady flow of them, pain, that’s all you can feel, you suppose it would be different with someone you love, with someone who prepares you for it and takes it slow, but as of now you couldn’t imagine how anyone would want this

“I shouldn’t have waited this long” he’s breathless already, the pain was dulling but not enough to be comfortable, you were still tense

His pace was forcing pained sounds out of you, sounds that couldn’t be mistaken as pleasure

“Just a bit longer” he says in between breaths, just a bit longer before he’ll let you get up, before most of the pain will be gone, your sure there will be a lasting ache, no matter how long you wait

“Hmm, I’m almost there” his fae goes down to your neck, sucking leaving more purple marks to stake his claim on you

“A-ahh” his grip on you tightens and an uncomfortable warmth fills you, this was truly the worst thing he could do to you

He stays in the same position with the exception of letting his weight crush you, ignoring the way your breath gets lighter

“That was good, I have some ideas on what we could do next” his face is still in your neck but you could feel his smile, “oh right, I forgot” his hand goes up to pull his boxers out of your mouth “ew haha, you got them all wet” he tosses them to the other side of the room with the rest of your cloths

“Let’s go get a bath” he finally lets your hands go but your not free from his grasp, as soon as you can move them you feel his arms going around you, presumably to bring you to the bathroom to wash, wash all his filth off you

“I hope I wasn’t to rough, I don’t wanna hurt you to bad”

To late

[spellwell]

secrets - dick grayson

dick grayson x reader one shot

fluff; sfw

warnings; none. characters may be out of character, this is my first time writing for them and I haven’t seen young justice in a while. Not edited well lol

universe: young justice

summary; Dick likes you, and you like Dick, it’s obvious. The only people that don’t seem in on it, are the both of you, the rest of young justice seems to have a plan to fix that.

By this point, you and the group of now nearly young adults have gotten quite close, you could even say they are like family. Every member seems to have their own very special relationship with you that has grown over time and nothing has quite as much value as that. Your relationship with Dick how ever, is probably the closest connection you’ve ever had. From the very start you took to him, finding his humor and opinions fit just right with your own, and everyone else has seemed to notice that as well. M’gann has always pushed the idea of you and Dick being more than friends, which you’ve admitted liking the idea of. Alas, your nerves have created a large pool of anxiety to sit at the bottom of your stomach at the simple idea of conveying your feelings to him.

“He obviously likes you back, in love even!”

“You’re nervous for no reason, what if someone else comes along? Don’t you want to secure him?”

“If you don’t tell him me and Conner will!”

“Oh come on y/n, why don’t you believe me?! He totally wants you!”

You’ve heard it all really, her begs and pleads, trying to reason with you to just gain the courage and tell him. Little does she know, it isn’t that easy and over time she’s seemed to give up. You’re not sure why you have such a hard time believing he would feel the same way, Dick is just so special and the chance that he doesn’t feel that way can’t be taken.

Other than that, everyone is very open and honest with each other, maybe even too open some times. That’s why their behavior’s have been… odd the past few days. Whispering, huddling, and glances to the side have made you question if there’s something wrong, but when you’ve asked they all say everything is fine and not to worry. Little did you know, they had a plan to fix this on-going back and forth between you and Dick.

“I actually can’t stand you, quit winning!” Aqua-lads laughing could be heard over Wally’s moaning and groaning. “Maybe if you were better at this game, you’d win.” Mg’ann walks over to you with a sheepish grin, motioning with her head over to the boys arguing on the couch. “How many times have they played this game today?” She asks, causing you to sigh and shrug your shoulders. “Today, you mean in the last week? Kid’s never going to win.” You both laugh and walk over to the couch, standing behind it to watch the boys start their new match. You could care less about the game, but watching Wally squirm always makes you laugh.

Conner makes his way into the room after a while of watching them argue, after Wally of course loses again. “Won’t you go a little easier on me dude, seriously it’s not even fun any more!” Conner throws his arm around the Martian next to you, rolling his eyes at the childish behavior. “You still wouldn’t win, if it’s not fun anymore how could you keep playing it? I could hear you shrieking from my room.” Wally whips around and shoots Conner a deadly look, one that seemed to not phase the super boy. “Oh yeah? You try beating this fish freak then!” Conner gives his girl friend a small peck on the cheek before hopping the back of the couch and taking a seat next to the boys. They began a new game and started at it, tension filling the room. “I don’t wanna be in here when Conner wins.” You said, walking off with a chuckle. Your best friend follows behind you, both of you heading back to the kitchen to snack on the grapes you’ve been picking at for the last hour.

Days like this, no missions, no jobs to do, tend to bore you all but the boys arguing always make the days go by faster.

The base announces that Robin has finally arrived, making you sigh in relief that there’d be someone to break it up when Wally finally loses his mind. “What did I miss?” His voice rings through the kitchen, making you smile. You turn to see him, his usual comfortable get up that he wears when he’s not actively Robin. “A whole lot of nothing.” You sigh out as he walks over and pops a grape in his mouth. You had gotten the green ones because you know they are his favorite, “green, my favorite.” He grins, walking over to the couch after stealing a few more. “Robin!” Wally yells with a grin, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his best friend arriving. “You’re here! They’ve been kicking my ass 1v1, you gotta jump in!” Dick takes no time hopping on the couch and grabbing a controller making you roll your eyes. All these boys do are play games in their free time, or spar with eachother when they are tired of that.

A few hours later, they decided they had enough of the silly games and wanted to eat. Being the good team mate and friend that you are, you decided to cook them something, feeling extra nice. They all sat on the couch, chatting and giggling while you slave away in the kitchen. You were left with your thoughts and the sound of bacon sizzling on the pan until Dick appeared behind you, watching the bacon cook. “Hey.” You nearly jump out of your skin, turning to see a chuckling Robin. “Scare you?” He said with a smirk, a gleam shining from his iconic sunglasses. You roll your eyes and softly smack him across the arm, “no.” He chuckles to himself again, grabbing the tongs from the counter and flipping a few pieces on the pan that needed it. “You can go sit down if you want, y/n.” A small blush threatens to crawl onto your cheeks, but your pride won’t let it. Dick is the only one that ever offers to help you cook, and you’ve always found that so sweet. “No, we can do it together.” You said, smiling up at him which he quickly returns.

As the bacon cooks and you listen to Dick talk about his day before arriving, you notice the racket from earlier had subsided… too much. From the kitchen, you look over to eye your friends on the couch who seem to be whispering like they have been for the last week. What on earth? Why do they keep doing that? Since when do we keep secrets? You decide to ignore it and focus back on what Dick is saying, along with the food that he just finished up. “Come get it!” He yells from beside you, turning off the stove and walking the pan over to the table. You find yourself forgetting the whispering, and instead begin to think about how sweet Dick truly is to you and the rest of the team, but especially you. Wally comes rushing in, everyone else following behind. “Thanks Rob.” He says with a grin before sitting down to munch and crunch. Everyone else takes a seat, including you. “Don’t thank me, thank y/n.” Dick said with a sheepish smile, taking a seat across from you and Wally.

Kid smirks to himself, leaning over and giving you a small peck on the cheek. “Thanks, y/n.” This is the first time he’s ever done something so flirtatious with you, besides his usual boyish humor. A small blush does creep onto your cheeks this time, a gulp attempting to swallow your confusion. “Yeah, no problem.” Dick seems to eye Wally, like he was also confused on why he did that but it was left at that, dinner commencing.

After everyone talked and ate, you decided that sitting and watching a movie would be fun and relaxing. The movie carried on normally, how any watch fest with the team would until Wally’s arm seemed to drape over your shoulder loosely half way through the movie. To be honest, you didn’t even notice it at first, until you felt him scoot a little closer on the couch. That was when you felt the weight of his arm, even a little tug to get you closer. Just like the behavior at the table this confused you, and flustered you at the same time. The feelings you have for Dick have never been something you’ve had for Wally, and you never thought he liked you like that either. You felt a pair of eyes staring into your forehead, which by investigation was Dick, who had a look on his face at what you assumed was the arm around you. No body else looked over or said anything, like this was normal and the movie is just that good, which it’s really not. You also let the arm thing slide, that was until about ten minutes later, you feel Kid’s hand begin to rub circles onto your upper arm. “Wally? What are you doing?” You ask calmly, scooting away a tad and glancing his direction. “Yeah Wally, what are you doing?” Dick’s voice comes from the other side of the couch, laced with irritation. “Oh I’m sorry y/n, am I not allowed to touch you?” Wally asks, softly, ignoring Robin. You go to open your mouth and respond but another voice cuts you off. “No. You’re not.” Dick’s voice sounds even darker than before, a look of disgust on his face. Wally’s lips turn into a smug smirk, his arm leaving your shoulder. “You’re not y/n, why not let her answer?” He says, now turning to you. Everyone’s eyes seem to be on you, some looks of intrigue like they want to know the answer and others just enjoying the show it seems. “Her answer is no.” Dick responds again before you can speak, but it isn’t like you knew what to say. Dick stands up and walks over, taking a quick seat on the other side of you. “What’s your sudden interest in y/n, huh? What makes you think she’d want you?” Wally smirks at him, that usual snarky little face he gets when he knows he has started something. “Why do you care so much, Rob? Jealous?” The idea of him being jealous makes a blush appear on your cheeks for the second time tonight. He tuts his lips at Wally’s question and sits back, arms crossed. “No.” This makes your heart ache a bit, but you decide to sit back and watch the screen again, happy to see everyone else finished with that conversation and do the same.

-

That night had ended, and the next day comes, starting like most days, until it got later and someone was missing. The night before everyone had decided to sleep there, but you watched as Dick left early, not saying a word to anyone. You know him well and this is very much unlike him, but no body seemed to bring it up.

After worrying about it all day, the base announces that Robin has arrived, making everyone who is currently sitting on the couch, look over in the direction he’s expected from. He comes in, seeming a bit more like himself as he starts talking to everyone about something Bruce was telling him this morning.

Wally had been normal all day, no incidents happening like yesterday, which makes you even more confused about the whole thing.

“Do you want to cook again, or are we ordering food?” M’gann asks, clearly having food on the brain. “Let’s give this babe a break and order something.” Wally says, motioning over to you. Babe? Why is he flirting with you? You go to tell him to knock it off honestly, you don’t get why he’s flirting with you, but M’gann and Conner interrupt, going on about what to order. You notice Dick go quiet after this, as do you. Wally’s hand comes down and rests on your knee, your eyes quickly darting down to it. Another pair of eyes seem to do the same, Dick’s eyes. He gets that same expression as he did last night, but this time he also looks… sad? Before you can move his hand, which you were about to do, Dick quickly stands up, but only you seemed to notice. His fist quickly made contact with Wally’s face, making him fall back into the couch. It was so quick, and it definitely caught everyone’s attention. “Hey!” Wally yells as he presses his hand to his own face, which was probably on fire. “You fucking knew!” Dick yelled, fists clenched. “You’ve always known how I feel about y/n and you have the nerve to go after her- in front of me!” Your face goes into shock, completely taken aback by what he said. “How dare you.” He says very seriously, but sadness laced his words. Before anyone could speak he storms off, in the direction of the room he stays in when he’s here. The room goes silent, eyes all quickly darting away from eachother. “I’m sorry, I set this up, I didn’t know he would get so upset.” M’gann finally spoke, making everyone look in her direction. “He wants to kill me.” Wally sighed, shoulders falling in defeat. You feel very confused and now borderline frustrated, finally you speak. “What’s going on?” You say, tone confused but firm. “What did you do?” You say, looking at M’gann. “It wasn’t just her, we planned it. We wanted one of you to confess your feelings so we set it up to make Rob jealous and confess, we didn’t know he would freak out on him.” Conner said from next to her, a guilty look painting all their faces. This has all been so confusing it just now hits you that, Dick likes you back.

“You have to go talk to him, I’ll take the beating for it later.” Wally says with a small side ways grin, making you sigh, a flustered feeling coating your stomach. “Okay…” You said softly, going to stand and walk in the direction he went.

You took your sweet time, feeling nervous, what do you say? A solid knock on his door is all you have the courage to do, but he doesn’t respond. You stand there for a moment, frozen in fear before you build up the courage to do it again. “What.” Is all you hear, flat and hurt. “Can I come in, Rob?” You say softly, hand on the door. It stays quiet before you hear a shuffle and the door open. You push your way in softly, seeing his figure stand next to the door, closing it behind you. “Do you really want Wally?” He asks, in a point blank tone, an expression you’ve never seen on his face. Your eyes widen in surprise, an answer stuttering out. “What? No.” You could tell from his eyes that he actually cried a bit, making you feel worse. “He- he didn’t mean it! It was just to get one of us to admit we like eachother.” His eyes now widened, picking up on the fact that you just admitted to feeling the same way he did the whole time. “So you don’t want him?” He asks, face softening much more than before. You shake your head, twiddling your fingers down at your waist, “no, I want you.” His eyes seemed to light up instantly, a grin appearing against his will.

“Yeah?” He said, a grin also quickly appearing on you as well. “Yeah.” It seemed like he’d never make a move, nervousness still covering his face so you move in closer and grab his jaw, gently placing a kiss on his lips. It doesn’t take but a second for you both to melt into each other, his hands coming to hold your waist. He pulls at you to come closer, a hum of satisfaction leaving his lips. This led to some more long awaited kissing, both of you clearly relieved to finally have what you’ve always wanted. He pulls away eventually, looking down at you with admiration in his eyes and swollen lips.

“I totally knew you’d want me and not a guy who sucks at video games.”

- end

thanks for reading, if you enjoy this please leave a request for more or any other interaction you’d like.

If you like Dick Grayson as much as me, join my community called ‘Dick Grayson fan club’ and post your own content!!

love, spell.

[astralzeraphias]

happy early valentines day!

[classyrbf]

IS THERE SOMEONE ELSE! — GOJO SATORU

SYNOPSIS...you and gojo get into a fight after realizing that he’s been hiding something about your relationship the entire time

INFO...gojo x fem!reader, angsty, arguing, breaking up(?), not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

You slam the door to the penthouse, your heels clicking against the mahogany floors with each step. You toss your purse on the couch, hearing Gojo opening the front door and shutting it quickly. “Baby, please just listen to me.” He pleads, following after you.

“I don’t wanna hear your bullshit excuse, Satoru.” You roll your eyes, plopping down on the edge of the bed to relieve your sore feet of the heels you’ve been wearing all night to your boyfriends opening event he’s been planning for months now.

“I’m not trying to make excuses. Please.” He walks over towards you and toss your heel at him. “Stop throwing shit and just talk to me!”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do!” You stand to your feet, glaring daggers at him. “Do you know how embarrassing that was for me? God, you’re a fucking asshole.” You seethe, narrowing your eyes. “I sat there all alone, while you let some woman feel up on you the entire night? Are you out your fucking mind?” You scoff.

“She’s just an old friend, y/n. I swear I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” He shakes his head at you, grabbing onto your arms tightly.

“Oh, yeah? So I when I came up and introduced myself as your girlfriend none of your friends were looking at me like I was crazy? I know we’ve been only together for a year, Satoru, but that’s fucking low.” You pull away from him. “They didn’t even know who I was. Then you got miss prissy bitch clearly flirting with you in front of me and you didn’t do a damn thing to stop it!” You brush past him, stomping over towards the bathroom.

“Slow down, y/n! Baby—”

“I’m not your fucking ‘baby’, Satoru.” You gather all of your products from the bathroom, from your makeup and skincare to your clothes and shampoo.

“Stop for just one second.” He spins you around so you’re facing him. “Don’t leave. I swear you’re the only girl for me. I know I fucked up, I know I did. I embarrassed you, made you look stupid and I am so fucking sorry. But please do not leave.” He cups your face gently and his touch feels so inviting, but you can’t forgive him that easily. “I only want you. I only need you.”

You look up at him through your lashes, swallowing thickly as you bite the inside of your cheek. “Should’ve thought about that when you let her kiss your cheek and you smiled at her. Right in front of me. Get the fuck off of me.” You push him, rushing to grab your bag from the closet.

Gojo lets out a tired sigh, following you. He wasn’t going to let you go. Not like this. “I shouldn’t have let her near me.”

“Why was she so comfortable with being that close to you, huh?” You question, furrowing your brows as you turn to look at him. “Now that I think about it. Let me guess, you two were more than just friends.” You stand to your feet, snatching your clothes off the hangers and shoving them into your bag. He looks at you, opening his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. And from the look in his eyes, you already knew the truth. A bitter laugh leaves your lips, shaking your head in disappointment.

“It was before you! Before us! We never dated it was just a small thing between me and her!” He tried to explain. “Baby, I swear! Once I met you, everything changed. I cut her off and focused all my attention on you. You’re the only who has my heart.” He grabbed your wrist only for you to pull away.

“Clearly I ain’t the only who who’s got your dick, though.” You slam the closet door shut, turning your back towards him.

“Don’t say that, y/n. That’s the first time I’ve seen her in years!”

“Yeah? Well all your friends sure know about her. She must’ve been great in bed, Satoru. Me? Well, they looked at me like I was a fucking ghost!” You scoff. “Like I was some delusional bitch who came up to you and said I was your girlfriend!” You throw your hands up in disbelief. “You must take me for fucking joke. It must be written on my forehead or something!”

“I don’t take you for a joke! You’re my goddamn girlfriend. You live with me. You have my initial around your fucking neck! I love you and you know that!” He takes a step towards you.

“Do I know that?” You ask aloud, cocking your head to the side.

“What—of course I love you. What the fuck are you saying?” He looked at you with pure confusion.

“You’re a joke. One of your friends, Shoko, pulled me aside and told me the only reason you got with me is because your little fling ended up getting a boyfriend herself around the time we started dating. You’re a piece of shit.” You revealed the truth to him, watching him stare at you blankly, lost for words. “Think I wouldn’t find out?” You ripped off the necklace with his initial, tossing it at him.

“Yes, I was upset that she got a boyfriend but—”

“So you had feelings for her. And just to cover them up, you got with me as a distraction.” You step closer towards him. “Listen to me, Satoru, don’t ever try and contact me again, keep whatever fucking gifts you bought me and return them, sell them, do whatever because I am done,” you spoke through gritted teeth.

“No, no, no, baby. You can’t leave me. Yea I liked her before, but so fucking what? I was never in love with her, not like I am with you. I was too fucking stupid. I still am! Just give me another chance to fix this. I don’t want us to end this way.” He grabs your packed bag from your hands and tosses it on the bed.

“Let me go, Satoru.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I can’t. You’re everything to me. She’s nothing compared to you.” He sniffles, holding your hands in his. “I love you so much and I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. I’m sorry I embarrassed you. And I’m sorry for entertaining the idea that she could even come close to you. She can’t.” His hands cupped your face, his heart pounding in anticipation as he waited to hear any words from you.

You reached up, pulling his hands away from your face. “Bye, Satoru.” You walked past him, grabbing your bag off of the bed. As much as it hurt to leave, you knew you had to respect yourself. Time and space was what you needed to think. With each step out the door, you could hear Gojo’s sobs, something you’ve never heard before in the year you’ve been with him. For the strong, flashily and confident man he is, you never once thought you’d see or him break down. Especially not for you.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Taste | Max Verstappen x Singer! Reader

Summary: She’ll just have to taste you when he’s kissing her. When Max and Kelly break up, the pair of you start something sweet. But, it only lasts a short while when your conflicting schedules drive him back into her arms. 

Warnings: Kelly Piquet slander. 

Requested: No, I’m just obsessed with making up fantasies whilst I drive home from work with my music on

Faceclaim: Sabrina Carpenter (yes, I know she’s used a lot but I stole her song and her occupation so why not steal her face) 

F1 Masterlist

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f1wags just posted

liked by user1, redbullracing and others

f1wags max verstappen and kelly piquet both confirmed they have seperated, posting a short statement on their instagram stories. the news comes after months of speculation after explosive arguments were caught on camera

3,306 comments

user1 omg did anyone see that red bull admin liked this and then unliked it

user2 thank god! i’ve been waiting for this day for ever

user3 can we see him date someone his own age now that didn’t go after him when he was a teen? 

user4 finally! turns out manifesting works 

user5 he always looked so upset after they argued. hopefully he finds someone good for him

user6 hear me out, but how hot would he look with yn ln

→ user7 like they’d ever cross paths. he’s an athlete and she’s a pop star 

→ user6 yes but my point is that they would look hot together 

→ user8 he did have one of her songs playing in the background of a stream once?

user9 i love how she’s really laying it on thick in hers and he’s just like “yeah, it’s over” 

→ user10 we love an unbothered king

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mclaren just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and others

mclaren we have a special guest in the garage this weekend. thank you @/yn_ln for joining us

6,098 comments

yn_ln thank you so much for having me! i had an amazing weekend but i don’t think i’ll be in a rush to do hot laps again

→ landonorris don’t be like that. i know you had fun! 

→ yn_ln idk who trusted you with a licence but they should be fired

→ landonorris idk why they call you short and sweet :( 

user1 she looks soooo good wtf  liked by maxverstappen1

oscarpiastri it was really fun having you in the garage. thank you for making lando seem tall. now he’ll be in a good mood for the rest of the weekend

→ yn_ln f1 girlies, can you tell me if he’s dating the curly haired one?

→ oscarpiastri well played. i apologise for bringing your height into this

→ user2 yes, yes they are, yn

user3 chat, is this real? my fave singer in my fave team’s garage! two worlds colliding 

charles_leclerc omg please stop by ferrari. my girlfriend, alex, absolutely loves you

→ yn_ln come pick me up! (‘cause i don’t know my way around the paddock) and i’d love to meet her

user4 omg somebody tell max. i hope she gets lost and stumbles into red bull

→ user5 my delusions might come true if that happens

→ user6 he saw her when charles was walking her over to ferrari

→ user4 and?! 

→ user6 nothing. he turned around and went back into the garage

→ user7 yeah after he went bright red! 

f1wags just posted

liked by user8, shortnsweet and others

f1wags only two months since his split from model, kelly piquet, max verstappen has been linked to singer, yn ln. the pair have been spotted numerous times on dates and caught in moments of affection

2,999 comments

user8 yn’s clothing brand liked this! 

→ user9 that doesn’t mean anything?

→ user8 well, considering that is her own brand, and they’re a part of her image, i’d say it means something 

user10 anyone else notice that they’re wearing different outfits in every photo, which means they’re all from different days/dates

user11 i’m going feral

user12 okay but you can’t even deny that this is them because it very clearly is 

user13 people said i was crazy when i talked about these two being together! 

user14 they’re so hot together. i might actually combust 

user15 i’m (s)creaming

user16 the hand holding 🥹 they’re not just fucking

user17 my new otp 

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kellypiquet just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, piquetjr and others

kellypiquet my 🩷

2,987 comments 

maxverstappen1 ❤️

→ user1 aha this is such a dry response lmao 

user2 wtf? i thought he was with yn

→ user3 that was just a rumour 

user4 he looks much better with yn 

→ user5 yeah but she can’t give him the stable relationship he needs so no wonder he went back to kelly. she’s always there lmao 

→ user6 yeah because she never lets that man go. she’s possessive and it’s not healthy

user7 max is so cute with p 

user8 my favourite thing about this post is that all of these pics are old because max is currently in a press conference with his long hair, not these short strands

user9 how could he leave yn like this? they were so cute together 

(comments on this post have been disabled)

yn_ln just posted

liked by landonorris, kellypiquet and others

yn_ln in honour of my tour starting, please enjoy my new single taste! 💋

14,033 comments

user1 omg a new album, a new tour and an additional song?

alexandrasaintmleux got this on repeat 

→ charles_leclerc this is true. it’s all we’ve had in the car

→ alexandrasaintmleux don’t act like you don’t know all the words 

user2 this was 100% written because of the max situation

jennaortega but how hot do we look 

user3 not kelly liking this! 

→ user4 i like to think the middle picture is aimed at her for stealing yn’s man

redbullracing blue is definitely your colour

→ mclaren she looks better in orange 

→ scuderiaferrari we think she should try red next 

→ yn_ln i’ll wear whatever colour invites me to watch rich men drive around in circles next

→ alpinef1team pink it is! 

landonorris i liked the parts where you died

oscarpiastri oh so you’re allowed to make height comments but i wasn’t?

→ yn_ln please refer to the end picture

user5 chat, i can’t stop thinking about “he pins you down on the carpet, makes paintings with his tongue” 

→ user6 max verstappen, i was not familiar 

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yn_ln just posted

liked by redbullracing, oscarpiastri and others

yn_ln i heard there’s some sort of race on so i thought i would show some support. let’s play spot the team

10,001 comments 

user7 omg did you see that charles and alex were there! 

→ user8 and pierre and kika

→ user9 well, we know who got charles in the divorce 

user10 we all know who red bull wants in max’s garage 👀

→ user11 the fact that they liked a gossip post of him dumping kelly and are now all over yn’s insta 

user12 okay but the placement of the bulls has me weak in the knees

user13 who’s your favourite driver? 

→ yn_ln daniel ricciardo

→ danielricciardo showing this to everyone i know

→ user14 does that include max? liked by danielricciardo 

user15 we love a petty queen because you can’t tell me the writing isn’t aimed at kelly and max 

→ user16 and the bull instead of the kiss

mclaren we’re hurt. truly hurt that you didn’t post a pic with our logo 

→ yn_ln you have a whole insta post dedicated to you! 

alexandrasaintmleux the hottest concert i’ve ever been to

→ charles_leclerc still can’t believe she arrested you when i was right there

landonorris does this mean you can come to the race? like you’re practically already there??

→ oscarpiastri i second this

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requests open. i'm just slow haha

coming soon; lewis hamilton baby angst

this wasn’t due out until next week but MAX WON!!! And so I’m posting this in honour of that. I’m just sorry this was planned as angst 😬😂

tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25

[sapphire-writes]

Beyond The Play

college!Art x college!Reader

summary: Tashi needs some time alone with her man, which leaves you without a room for the night.

word count: 3.8k

rating: mature/explicit/18+

warnings: alcohol, fingering, dry humping, p in v sex with a condom, light praise, titty sucking, there's only one bed oh no!!

a/n: thanks for all the love on my first Challengers fic! hope you enjoy this one!

“You are so fucked,” Art says, taking another sip of his beer.

“Shut up.”

“He’s right,” Tashi agrees, sighing heavily, glancing at her cards.

You’re all sitting on the floor of your and Tashi’s dorm room, half-empty beer bottles littering the floor between you. You’d been playing poker for the past hour or so, swindling more of Patrick and Art’s money. It’d become a Friday night habit of yours, card games and beer with Patrick and Art. Patrick was always a maybe, he only came to visit his girlfriend a couple times a semester. 

But you, Art, and Tashi were always a solid trio. Tashi and Art had met through tennis of course, and you had met Art through Tashi after rooming with her freshman year of college. You’d become fast friends, and roommates for the next several years. You got along with Patrick well enough, you had to once he and Tashi started dating.

You could tell that had been a sore spot for Art, at least for a while. You’d suspected he’d had a thing for Tashi, and fire and ice hadn’t been the same since. You’d once asked Tashi about it and she’d only shrugged. Even though she was with Patrick for now, you knew Tashi had only one true love. 

Whatever Art felt for Tashi was easily molded into friendship, and the three of you became nearly inseparable. Which was good, even if you may or may not have developed some feelings of your own for the blond tennis player. 

But your friendship was more important. Those feelings could be pushed aside.

“God damn it,” Patrick curses, “I fold.”

Tashi snickers, revealing her cards and Patrick swears once more. 

“I need a smoke,” Patrick says, standing and leaning across Tashi’s bed to the open window.

“Oh no you don’t,” Tashi says, standing at lightning speed, “Outside, we are not getting in trouble for this.”

She grabs Patrick by the shirt collar, dragging him off the bed. He dramatically chokes, but lets her drag him towards the door.

“Art come on,” Patrick insists, reaching for his best friend.

“What? No, I wanna stay,” Art says, sandy hair falling in front of his eyes, “You don’t need a babysitter—”

“Yes I do,” Patrick insists, “C’mon five minutes, I swear.”

The boys tumble into the hall and you can hear their voices fading as they make their way outside. You stand from the floor, gathering up some beer bottles, and folding up the empty pizza box.

“Hey, d’you think you could sleep somewhere else tonight?” Tashi asks, brown eyes wide, “It’s Patrick’s last night, and y’know we really haven’t had any alone time.”

Your chest constricts at the thought. You totally get where she’s coming from but, it’s your room too. The thought of sleeping in the common area is less enticing. 

“Or at least just for a couple of hours,” Tashi backtracks, seeing your expression, “Just so we can—”

“Yeah, Tash it’s fine,” you tell her, swallowing your annoyance. Tashi’s been nothing but thoughtful and kind as a roommate, and friend. It’s an inconvenient favor, but nothing crazy. “I’ll get out of your hair for a couple of hours.”

“You’re the best,” she says, kissing your cheek, “Seriously, I owe you one.”

“You sure do,” you tell her, “I expect full payment for this.”

“Do you mean a trip to the movies with slurpees and popcorn?” Tashi asks, raising her eyebrows. 

“With extra butter,” you clarify and point at her, “You’re not cheaping out on me.”

“I’d never,” she insists, feigning seriousness before breaking into a grin. 

You finish helping Tashi clean up and begin your excommunication from your room. Walking down the hallway you bump into Patrick and Art on their way back from Patrick’s smoke break.

“What’re you doing out here? You start smoking?” Art asks as Patrick keeps walking past you, picking up the pace, “Hey where…”

“Party’s over,” you tell him, as Patrick turns the corner, eager to return to Tashi now that she’s alone.

Art frowns, confused.

“But we were—”

“Art,” you cut him off and place your hands on his shoulders, shaking him slightly, “Party’s over. Unless you’re eager to be a third.”

Art’s cheeks flush and he glances away, forcing out a laugh. Something tugs at your heart watching his half-smile appear. 

“Uh yeah ... .no thanks,” he says and you pat his shoulders before releasing them, “Wait but where are you going to go?”

You shrug, “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“You can’t just wander around campus, it’s like 2 am,” Art says, beckoning you with his hand, “Come back to my room, at least till they’re done.”

“Really?” you ask, “Cause if you’re tired I can just—”

“Don’t be silly,” Art says, poking your shoulder, “C’mon.”

Art’s room is in a separate building on campus, about a five-minute walk from you and Tashi’s building. Art is lucky enough to have a single; you’d been there a handful of times before class or practice. He keeps his room neat, aside from some clothes scattered on the floor from quick changes before practice. You smile as he hurriedly picks them up, throwing them into a hamper in his closet.

His bed is unmade, navy sheets messy as though he’d just woken up. 

“Sorry bout the mess,” he says, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

“I’m not judging, you’re cleaner than most guys I’ve met,” you tell him and he laughs. 

Suddenly, it hits you how late it is, sleepiness hitting you like a train as you yawn. This triggers Art’s yawn and the pair of you stand awkwardly in front of each other. 

“Um,” Art says suddenly, “It’s late.”

“Yeah,” you agree, stomach sinking, “I can just—”

“You should stay.”

You’re silent at that. You stare at him, as he nervously plays with the hem of his t-shirt, waiting for your reaction. You’re not sure what to say. It’s fine, right? Just a friend, helping out another friend.

A friend whom you have a big fat annoying crush on.

“I mean….it’s just late and you’re tired and who knows when they’ll be done.”

��I don’t have anything with me,” you tell him, voice sounding softer, meeker than you’d like.

“Oh, here I got you,” he says, walking to his dresser. He shuffles through the drawer a moment before revealing a shirt and clean boxers, “Just did laundry today. You can….you can change in the bathroom. I even have an extra toothbrush.”

You roll your eyes at that, taking the clothes from him. 

“Okay,” you agree.

“Bathroom’s right there.”

You nod, quickly making your way across the room and into the bathroom. You close the door and quickly change, finding Art’s spare toothbrush unopened in a goodie bag from the dentist shoved into a spare drawer. You quickly wash your face, brush your teeth, and change into his clothes. The shirt is baggy, with Stanford Men’s Tennis written across the front. It smells like him, like his detergent and his cologne and you can’t help but greedily inhale.

When you exit the bathroom, Art dips in, leaving the door open as he brushes his teeth. You place your clothes in a pile on his desk, awkwardly waiting for him. When he emerges, he’s wearing only his boxers and a gray t-shirt.

“I’ll take the floor,” Art says, his face turning beet red, “You can have the bed.”

“Art no,” you insist, “It’s your room. I’ll take the floor, it’s only fair—”

“Yeah that is not happening,” he says, satisfied smirk on his face, “Tashi’d kill me if she found out I made you sleep on the floor.”

“We could…..” you wet your lips, struggling to get the words out, “We could share the bed?”

Art watches you, his eyes wide. You watch his Adam’s apple bobs as he contemplates your question. Suddenly your pulse quickens, and embarrassment floods your body, and your face flushes. You turn away from him, scooting onto the bed.

“I mean only—”

“—if you’re comfortable,” Art finishes and you shut your mouth. You both giggle at the overlapping sentences.

“Yeah, I’m comfortable, Art,” you tell him, patting the space beside you, “Come on.”

Art moves onto the bed and you push closer to the wall. He’s so close when he lies down beside you, stretching his arm above your head. You’ve grown accustomed to the moonlit room and at this distance, you can almost count each eyelash that frames his blue eyes. 

“Is this okay?” he whispers, minty breath wafting over your face, making your head spin.

“Mhmm,” is all you can manage as the heat of his body warms you under the covers.

He’s silent then and you lay there for a moment, watching each other, listening to your shared breathing. Art chuckles then.

“What?”

“It’s just…” he trails off, “Nothing, it’s silly.”

“What is it?”

“You’re the first girl I’ve shared a bed with,” he admits, shyly glancing away from your gaze.

“Art Donaldson,” your tone is teasing, “I find that rather hard to believe.”

“It’s true,” he insists, brows furrowing together, “I mean….I’m not saying—wait” he wets his lips nervously, “I’m not a virgin—”

Your eyebrows raise, a smile curling at the corner of your lips. No, you did not doubt that. 

“Not that anything’s wrong with that, I just—wait and not to imply—”

“Art!” you cut him off, reaching forward and pressing your fingers against his lips, “I’m kidding. Don’t freak out.”

“M’not,” he mumbles, lips moving against your fingers.

“I’m fucking with you, Donaldson,” you whisper, taking your hand back, “I know you’re a gentleman.”

“Thank Christ,” he says with an exaggerated exhale causing you to giggle once more. He watches you, a smile on his face, eyes flickering to your lips.

Your face heats up as he wets his lips. Suddenly, nervousness flutters in your belly, and your heart flutters in your chest.

“Goodnight,” you tell him, turning away from him to face the wall.

You wait for his response, hoping he’s not disappointed. Disappointed about what, you’re not sure. 

“Goodnight,” he says softly and you close your eyes.

You wake up early. Birds are chirping outside the window, golden sunlight is beginning to bleed into the room, and Art’s chest is smushed firmly against your back. His arm is curled around your middle, hand splayed under your shirt and on your tummy, face buried in the crook of your neck. He’s so warm, his presence so comforting, you just want to close your eyes and melt back into him. 

Art groans in his sleep, moving his hips slightly and your eyes snap open.

Oh, Art.

He’s pressed firmly against your backside, rock-hard, hips unconsciously grinding against you. Your mouth falls open slightly feeling him against you, the hard outline of his cock bullying against your ass. Art groans again, hand on your stomach pushing you closer to him.

A breathy sigh escapes you and your head falls back against him slightly. 

“Art,” you breathe, answered with another groan, this one edging on a whimper. His hips gyrate, cock pressing against you with need, “Oh God…”

You swallow, breathing becoming more shallow. Your pussy clenches, and you can feel the growing wetness in the boxers Art had lent you, thighs pressing together desperate to relieve some of the pressure.

“Art wake up!” 

Art wakes with a start, head pulled from your shoulder. You can’t see him, but you feel him tense, the warmth of his body ripped from yours as he lurches backward, right off the edge of the bed. He falls with a yelp, hitting the floor with a loud thud. You sit up turning toward him. 

“Fuck!” he says, scrambling to sit and hide his erection, “Shit, I’m so sorry!” His face is red and he grabs a pillow, placing it over his lap, “God–fuck, I’m so sorry I was asleep—” He keeps stuttering, unable to meet your eyes. 

“Art.”

“It’s just biological you know, just morning wood, I would never do anything without your explicit consent–enthusiastic consent!”

“Art…”

“And I would never want to ruin anything between us, ever–”

“Art!”

His head snaps toward you then, eyes meeting yours. His mouth hangs open, eyes watery as he looks up at you. He looks so sad, so embarrassed, and disappointed. And something else as well. Worried, perhaps. 

“Get back up here,” you tell him.

Art’s mouth remains open in shock as he glances at the bed.

“Now?”

“Yes, right now.”

Art scrambles to rejoin you on the bed, lying beside you. He faces you just as he did last night, sandy hair falling across his forehead. You smile softly at his disheveled appearance and his flushed cheeks.

“I’m sorry—”

“Stop talking,” you tell him, reaching forward and brushing some hair from his face. You let your hand trail around to the nape of his neck, fingers curling in his hair. “You have my consent.”

Art’s eyes widen, lips parting in shock.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” you tell him, pulling yourself closer. His hand drifts to your hip, anchoring himself to it. “Explicit, enthusiastic, all yours.”

The last word has barely left your lips before he’s leaning forward, pressing his lips against your own. They’re warm and soft, he kisses you with innocent eagerness, the hand on your hip pulling you flush against him. You lift your leg, hitching it around his thigh, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging slightly, earning a moan against your mouth.

“Fuck,” he moans against your lips, “You don’t know how long I’ve thought about this.”

Something deep inside your belly warms at his admission. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” he answers, kissing you again, “Since freshman year.”

“Why didn’t you…..oh fuck..” your question trails off as Art mouths your neck, sucking and biting the tender skin.

“Didn’t want to ruin anything,” he mumbles, kissing your collarbone. 

You hum at his answer, tilting your head to give him better access. His hand moves from your hip bone, up under your shirt—his shirt. 

“Is this okay?” he asks, mouth returning to your lips.

“Yes,” you tell him, “Please touch me.”

You can feel his smile against your lips as he does what you ask, fingers grazing the underside of your breast. Pushing against him, his hand cups your breast, squeezing lightly. You pull away from his lips briefly, tugging your shirt over your head and tossing it to the end of the bed. Art’s eyes devour you and he kisses you desperately as he continues to play with your tits. 

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing down your neck until he reaches the top of your chest. 

Art’s lips move across the tops of your breasts, as though he’s struggling with choosing which one to lavish with attention. Luckily for you, he decides rather quickly and latches his mouth to your right nipple, thumb, and forefinger, tweaking the opposite. Your back arches as he gently bites down, sucking the hardened peak harshly before releasing it with a pop. 

“Art.”

He simply moans, ignoring your cries as he brings his mouth to your opposite nipple, repeating his previous action. Pleasure winds a current in your lower belly, your thighs clench as he repeats his little torture, alternating back and forth between your breasts. You grab his hair, tugging him not too gently until he glances up at you, cheeks red, lips glossy and puckered. 

He’s too pretty.

You pull him back to your lips, kissing him feverishly while trying to rid yourself of the clothing you have left. Art feels you squirming and assists, hands moving the boxers down your legs until you’re able to kick them off at your ankles. Your hands move to him next, eager to even the playing field. 

You tear his shirt over his head revealing his toned stomach from countless hours on the court. Your mouth waters at the sight before Art is on you once more, lips capturing yours in another heated kiss. His hand returns to your hip, curling against it before he reaches further, squeezing your ass.

You smile against his mouth as he squeezes again. 

“You’re just fucking perfect, aren’t you?” he murmurs, returning your smile.

His hand grazes down the back of your thigh before venturing to the front where your legs meet. Your breathing becomes more labored the closer he gets to your hot center. 

“Can I?” he asks, so softly, you nearly drown out his question with your heavy breath.

“Yes,” you tell him, and that’s all he needs. 

Art slides a curious finger between your wet folds, gently circling your clit. Your mouth falls open as he continues.

“You’re so wet,” he remarks, dipping his finger lower, and finding your entrance. 

He lets his middle finger sink into you, met with little resistance. Your walls greedily accept him as he curls his finger upwards, beginning to pump it in and out. Stars explode behind your eyes and you moan, clutching onto his shoulder.

Art smirks, eyes aglow at the pleasured noises you emit.

“That feel good?”

“Yes—fuck,” you squeak as he presses another finger inside of you, “Oh god.”

“Yeah?” 

Art crooks his fingers against your velvety walls, pressing against that special spot inside of you that has your head lolling against him, moans spilling from your lips. His thumb joins, caressing your sensitive clit in time with the strokes of his fingers. 

“Feels so good,” you moan, “I’m so close.”

“Yeah? You're gonna come for me?” he asks, kissing your neck. Your fingers tangle themselves in his blonde hair, tugging harshly, your orgasm building deep in your belly, “Come on baby, come on my fingers, I wanna feel this pretty pussy come.”

His words send you over the edge and your pussy clenches around his digits as you come, thighs shaking from the intensity as warmth floods through you.

“That was so hot,” Art says, kissing you, still buried to the knuckles inside you, “You’re so hot. Let me fuck you, please.”

You hum against his lips as he carefully removes his fingers from your warmth. He pulls away, bringing his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean. You watch him awestruck as he moans, eyes closing at the taste of you.

“Get inside me,” you tell him, “Right now.”

Art doesn’t need to be told twice, sitting up and pulling his boxers off as you lay on your back. Your eyes drift down his stomach to his cock. It’s pretty, just like the rest of him. Long, girthy, a neat tuft of dark sandy colored hair at the base. The tip flushed red and weeping as he strokes himself. 

“Condom?” you ask, and he nods, walking to his desk and rummaging through the first drawer. 

He comes up successful, ripping the wrapper with his teeth and rolling the condom on his length before crawling on top of you. You spread your legs for him as he lines himself up, rubbing the tip along your soaked slit. 

“Art, please put it in,” you whine, hips lifting.

“Jesus, I’m not gonna last long if you keep that up,” he says, shaking his head.

Your responding giggle is short-lived as he slowly sinks inside of you, filling you to the brim.

“Oh god,” you whimper, as he rests his forehead against yours.

“You okay?”

“More than okay,” you answer, cupping his cheek. He mirrors your action and you smile, a sudden burst of tenderness exploding in your chest, tears welling in your eyes. 

Art rotates his hips, pulling back and sinking back into your inviting warmth. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs, kissing your lips, “I’ve dreamt of this for years.”

“Me too,” you admit, wrapping your legs around his waist, “God, Art, I’ve wanted this forever.”

This spurs him on, his thrusts becoming quicker, more eager at your confession. 

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you whimper as he pounds into you, “Wanted this for so long—used to talk to….to Tashi about it—”

Art moves his hand along your side, reaching your thigh and hooking your leg over his shoulder.

“What’d you tell her?”

The new angle sends him deeper, the head of his cock rubbing perfectly against that spongy section of your walls that has your mouth dropping open in pleasure.

“Wanted you,” you manage as Art holds one of your hands above your head against the pillows, “Wanted this so bad.”

“I’ll give it to you,” Art says, his breath catching, “Fuck—oh god you’re so pretty like this, fuck.”

“Art!” you cry his name as your second orgasm builds, sneaking up on you as he slows his pace, “Why’d you—”

“Wanna savor this,” he says softly, kissing the tip of your nose. His thrusts have slowed, hips moving with leisure. 

The pressure in your belly continues to build as he smirks down at you. Tennis has done wonders to his stamina; he fucks you like he could keep this pace for hours, barely breaking a sweat. You whine, throwing your head back against the pillows as he kisses your neck, your hamstring burning deliciously with the stretch. 

“Please come for me,” he murmurs, right next to your ear, “I’ve got to feel that sweet little pussy come around my cock, please.”

You do as you’re told, spurred on by Art whispering praises and encouragement in your ear and you fall apart, clenching around his cock and milking him for all he’s worth. You feel his hips stutter, cock twitching inside your warmth as he follows your release with his own. Art’s lips find yours then, and you can taste yourself on his tongue as he kisses you like a drowning man coming up for air. 

You stay like that for several minutes, his cock softening as you kiss one another, before he slowly pulls out. He takes a moment to take off the condom, tying it off and tossing it in the trash before he rejoins you in bed.

“C’mere,” he says, pulling you across his chest. 

You lie with your cheek pressed against his pec, listening to the gentle beating of his heart. He strokes your arm with his fingers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Did you mean what you said?” he asks, face buried in your hair, “About wanting me? This?”

“Mhmm,” you answer, putting all your cards on the table, “I may have harbored a small crush on you.”

Art picks up your hand measuring it against his own before lacing your fingers together.

“I wish I knew that earlier,” he admits, still holding your hand, “I’ve been in love with you for ages.”

You glance up at him between your lashes and he grins.

“It’s true,” he says with a smile.

“And here I thought Patrick was the only one who owned your heart,” you tease, causing him to playfully bite your wrist, “Hey!”

“Not the only one,” he admits, rolling you over onto your back, “I’m glad you got kicked out of your room last night.”

You lean up, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Me too.”

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[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 8 (part one)

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 4.1k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

additional chapter cw! suggestive moments, mature readers only

Carter could hear his car approaching before it even came into view.

She had been grounded for two weeks, caught out with Topper on his granddad’s boat past curfew, and she had never been more bored in her life. Slumped back on the couch, she dipped her hand in the bag to grab another chip, pausing mid-bite when she heard the familiar hum of Rafe’s truck engine growl down the street.

“Oh fuck no,” she hopped off the couch, a trail of crumbs in her wake as she jogged to the front door. 

Though she knew you were away for the afternoon, your mom taking you to tour a local college on the mainland, she instinctively double checked that your car was still gone. She was thankful you weren’t here to see him in his oversized ego-mobile zipping down your street like he owned it.

You’d been devastated all week, crying yourself to sleep in the wake of seeing Rafe kiss Cassie Bryant. Nothing made Carter angrier than knowing you were hurt and not being able to do anything about it. 

She couldn’t believe his nerve to show up here. He’d been texting to you all week, clearly not taking your lack of response for the answer that it was. You were finally finding the strength to stay away from him, and she was not about to let that unravel.

She stood on the front porch, closing the door firmly behind her, arms crossed and stance wide like she was prepared to defend her castle. Really, she was prepared to defend you.

Rafe parallel parked on the street, some misogynistic country song blaring from his subwoofers. Carter rolled her eyes at the way his massive truck took up enough space for two cars, always claiming what wasn’t his, taking and taking and giving nothing in return.

Closing the driver’s door with a bang, Rafe hopped down from his truck and strolled toward the house, stopping short in the front walk when he noticed Carter glaring out at him.

“You have some fucking nerve, Cameron,” she spat at him.

“I’m not here for you,” he glared back.

“Well no one else in this house wants to talk to your ass right now so you can go ahead and turn right back around.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I just wanna know why she wasn’t at my game today.”

“Uh-oh,” she tilted her head in mock-sympathy, “did ya lose?”

He clenched his jaw, an angry huff of air flaring his nostrils, “yeah, we lost.”

“Good.”

“Can you just let me in?” He started moving toward the front steps, but she didn’t move from her spot blocking the door. “I need to talk to her and she’s not answering my texts.”

“Do you think that’s an accident?” She scoffed. “Take a hint.”

“Okay, what’s your fucking problem, Carter?” He snapped the sentence off with a bite of her name.

“You’re my problem, Rafe,” she bit right back.

“What the fuck did I do? Why isn’t your sister answering my calls?”

“I dunno, maybe you should ask Cassie Bryant,” her hands uncrossed and rested on her hips.

Rafe stepped back, head dropping back in exasperation as he rolled his eyes at the sky.

“That’s what this is about? Cassie and I are just hooking up, what’s the big deal?”

“You mean besides the fact that Cassie’s made my sister’s life hell since they were in the same Kindergarten class?” She threw at him. “Or that you’ve been dragging my sister along since she was six years old just to ditch her for some wannabe Addison Rae tiktok flop?”

“God, you’re always so fucking dramatic, it isn’t even like that,” he gestured toward the window of your bedroom, still assuming you were up there somewhere avoiding him, “your sister knows we’re cool.”

“You’re not cool, Rafe. You’re an idiot,” she told him with a pitying shake of her head. 

Rafe turned her words over in his head, finally stopping long enough to consider the possibility that he’d done more damage than he initially thought.

“Is she really mad at me?” He mumbled, tucking his hands into his pockets.

Carter sighed, “No. She’s not mad at you. She’s never mad at you, that’s the problem. You don’t make her mad, you make her sad. All you ever do is make her sad.”

Shoulders falling, Rafe looked past Carter with a vacant stare. He looked so confused and distraught she almost felt bad for him. Almost. 

“I didn’t mean to make her sad,” he mumbled, almost at a whisper.

Carter scanned him with narrowed eyes, trying to decide if his penance was sincere. He looked down at his shoes, digging the tip of one into the stony walkway.

“How do I fix it?”

Carter started to think maybe he was sincere after all, but she still wasn’t sure he was in any place to be asking for advice.

“I don’t know if you can,” she told him.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” he said hopefully, trying to console himself. “She’ll come around.”

He looked at Carter like he was actually expecting her to agree.

“And then what, Rafe?” She tilted her head, genuinely curious about the answer. “What’s the end game here? You’ll just make her sad for a few more months and then go off to school and…what?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged defensively. “I haven’t thought about it.”

“Exactly. You don’t think things through. That’s always been your problem,” she informed him, “you just do what you want and pay no attention to how it affects other people. If you really cared about her, you wouldn’t keep putting her through the same shit over and over.”

“I do care about her,” he mumbled, her words beginning to penetrate his carefully constructed antagonistic armor.

“I wish I could believe that,” she shook her head sadly, “I wish she could believe that. At least when she did, she wasn’t crying herself to sleep every night.”

Sour regret burned in his throat at the thought of your tears dripping onto your pillowcase, some unfamiliar heartache he didn’t understand. 

“Maybe you could convince her that I do,” he offered, “she listens to you.”

“Why would I do that?” Carter snapped.

“Because then she wouldn’t be so sad,” his voice was so feeble it was like he was shrinking right before her eyes, his tall, intimidating frame so small and inadequate under the towering shadow of his guilt.

“Tell you what Rafe,” she began, “I’ll try and convince her that you care about her if you can look me in the eyes and tell me with your whole chest that you won’t hurt her anymore, that you won’t use her to your advantage, or drop off the face of the earth for weeks not answering her texts, or kiss other girls right in front of her face. That you’ll fight for her and put her before your own selfish bullshit. Can you make that promise?”

He wrung his hands, mindlessly adjusting the ring on his right forefinger, jaw clenched as he tried to will forth a convincing enough yes. He couldn’t do it.

“That’s what I thought,” Carter said. “If you can’t fight for her, then…”

“What?” He asked desperately, hoping she’d offer him some olive branch shaped way out of the  shame engulfing his chest.

“Then I am asking you- begging you really - to let her go. Stop texting, stop coming by the house, stop making promises you’re not gonna keep. Please. If not for me, then for her.”

“Do you think that’s what she wants?” He asked.

“No. But I think it’s what she needs,” she said, knowing it would kill you if you knew she was doing this, but believing with her whole heart that it was right.

Rafe rarely thought about the future. The farthest his mind went was the next few minutes in front of him. It was his fatal flaw, acting for the moment and not for the moment after, or the version of himself that would face the consequences of his poor choices. Yet, in this moment, he had the keen sense that his next move would be a pivotal one, the gravity of it making his feet feel heavy on the stone pathway. He could stay, he could argue, scream your name until you came out and talked to him. But then what? Would he have the courage to follow through? Was he enough of a man to handle the weight of your expectation?

Ultimately, he knew the right thing was to stay and fight, but the easy thing would be to just go.

So, as he almost always did, Rafe made the easy choice.

“Okay,” he nodded to Carter. “I’ll let her go.”

“Thank you,” she said, voice shaking with the fear that if you knew what she just convinced him to do, you’d never forgive her. 

“I’m not doing it for you,” he made sure she knew before turning and climbing back into his truck.

Once in the driver’s seat, he pulled out his phone, looking at your name in his contacts. Like his fingers were moving without his mind’s permission, he deleted you. It didn’t matter really, he thought, he’d remember your number on his deathbed. He’d remember it all, and he’d hate himself forever for driving away.

Carter stayed on the porch, watching him go, praying desperately that you’d never find out she was the reason he left.

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“We’re gonna have to go back eventually,” you said.

Rafe sat behind you in the sand, holding you with his chin resting easy on your shoulder as you took in the sprawling pink sunrise together. 

“Says who?” He countered.

You smiled, craning your neck to look up at him. His eyelids were heavy, purple under the eyes from the exhaustion of being awake all night.

“You’re falling asleep,” you noticed.

“Yeah because some girl kept me up all night, begging me to take her to the beach and kiss her,” he joked.

“Excuse me, sir, this was your idea!” You sat up and stretched, your words making him laugh despite his immediate discomfort at the loss of your body in his arms. “What time is it anyway?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged, “my phone’s in the car.”

“Mine too,” you chuckled, “I hope Carter’s okay. She was looking rough before we left.”

He had half a mind to propose the two of you never leave the beach, but he could hear the genuine concern under your lighthearted words. He stood from the sand and dusted himself off, reaching out a hand to pull you to your feet. You took it with a smile, lingering for a moment as you stood, your hand in his, taking one last look around the beach, searching for some kind of landmark.

“What are you looking for?” He asked.

“I just want to remember exactly where we were,” you explained.

“Why, you wanna recreate it?” He smiled softly at you.

“Oh, I plan to recreate it many times,” you wink at him.

It took all his strength to leave that spot and head back to the car, back to the house full of people who weren’t you, back to reality.

“I can drive,” he suggested, planning to take the slowest route possible, and actually follow the speed limit for the first time in his life.

As soon as he started the car up, your CD started blasting through the speakers. You laughed at each other, the catalyst of this whole encounter feeling like it was days ago. The time on the car radio told you it’d only been about two hours. You lifted your phone but the screen remained black.

“Shit, it’s dead,” you told him, opening the glovebox and digging around for a charger.

While you were distracted, Rafe lifted his own phone from the cupholder he’d left it in. His screen did light up, displaying a slew of frantic texts from Topper and Kelce. He winced, wishing he hadn’t looked. He didn’t read the texts, not wanting whatever nonsense they were bothering him with to pop the blissful bubble wrapped around the two of you. He knew he shouldn’t start off your new…whatever this was…by lying to you, but he needed to stay in this happy place just a little longer.

“Mine’s dead too,” he lied, flipping the phone over in the cup holder to hide the screen.

“Of course Carter doesn’t have a charger,” you sighed, “she has like twenty hair ties and lipglosses, but no charger. Classic.”

“I know my way back,” he shrugged, “we’ll be good.”

Rafe put the car in reverse, backing out of the little side road with his arm on the seat next to your head. You watched the way he turned in his seat to look out the back window, neck muscles flexing with the stretch and his big hand manipulating the steering wheel with ease. 

For the first time in the sixteen years you’d known him, you didn’t try to hide your gaze as you took him in. The same attraction that used to make you feel skittish and ashamed now settled over you peacefully, like an icy winter finally melting into a warm, bright spring. You looked at him all you wanted, noting every detail, taking mental photographs of every inch of his skin.

You’d always thought he was cute - actually, no, you always thought he was hot as fuck - but now for the first time, you allowed yourself to look long enough to notice how beautiful he was. Pins and needles burst out all over your body as you realized how badly you needed to kiss him again.

Rafe could feel your eyes on him as he drove, choosing not to say anything and risk you looking away. He felt at home in your gaze, happier than he could ever remember being.

Inhibitions left back on the beach, you fearlessly reached out toward him, hand grazing gently over his jaw. You loved the ticklish little stubble that had grown there in just a few days without shaving. You smiled as you thought about the boy who could barely grow peach fuzz, now a man, strong and solid under your fingertips. Something warm and electric buzzed in your stomach, and you knew Rafe could feel it too, his skin heating under your tender touch.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked, keeping his eyes on the road but leaning slightly into your hand to encourage you to keep touching him.

“Nothing,” you smiled, “I’ve just never gotten to look at you this long.”

“Is it making you change your mind?” He smirked, clearly not worried about the answer, his confidence making him impossibly sexier.

“Just the opposite,” you confirmed, “I think you’re always gonna have to drive from now on.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well now that I’ve gotten a good look I don’t think I could keep my eyes on the road. I always had the hardest time not looking over at you.”

Rafe grinned wide as your hand slipped from his jaw to the back of his head, fingers lacing in his soft hair, scratching his scalp lovingly. There was no rhyme or reason to your movements, but you didn’t care, you just needed your hands on him. He didn’t seem to mind, head leaning back into your palm to let you know he needed you as much as you needed him.

“I know you did,” he said.

“How?” You asked.

“Because I could never keep myself from looking over at you,” he confessed.

A kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttered their way through your chest. Now you were certain- you’d never been more attracted to anyone as you were to him in this moment.

Rafe took your silent smile as a good sign, “did I get another A with that line?”

Your hand slid slowly down to his shoulder, over the ridges and ripples of his arms, flexing under your soft touch, until you found his hand, pulling it into your own. 

“Gold stars, baby,” you smiled.

Rafe’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, the air in the car becoming thicker by the second as he shifted in his seat. You beamed at him, realizing with a flurry of excitement - you had Rafe Cameron flustered.

“You like when I call you baby?” You purred, eager to see how far you could push it.

His grip tightened around your hand, “you can’t say shit like that to me when I’m driving.”

You could feel the dam breaking. You needed him. Now.

“Then pull over.”

He finally took his eyes off the road for a second at that, looking over at you for confirmation; are you serious? You gave him a steely, lustful look in return; as a heart attack.

Rafe practically popped a tire turning the wheel hard and pulling the car down a side street, driving until he found a little secluded enclave by the beach, a perfectly private spot. He threw the car in park, making you laugh at the jolt it gave with his urgency. He didn’t waste a second, reaching both hands over to grab your face and pull your lips to his.

You sighed into his mouth, no hesitancy holding you back from slipping your tongue between his lips. He pulled away just long enough to grit out a raspy, “come here,” before throwing his seatbelt off.

You unbuckled your own, holding tight to his shoulders as you swung your leg over the console and climbed, somewhat awkwardly, into his lap. Your head fell back in laughter as your butt accidentally pressed the horn, the sound blasting through the quiet morning air. Rafe laughed too, easing your slight embarrassment as he reached down to slide the seat back.

Once you had more room, you pulled back to get a better look at him. He looked up at you with wide blue eyes, so gentle and kind in the way they took you in. Rafe reached up and brushed your hair over your shoulder, taking a deep breath as his hands grazed your shoulder.

“Hey,” he whispered to fill the silence.

You cracked the slightest smile, unable to repress your amusement.

“What?” He puzzled.

“I just didn’t imagine you to be so…sweet like this,” you explained, though you hated how the words sounded coming out of your mouth, afraid it would sound like a criticism and cause him to withdraw.

“Only for you,” he said.

“Uh oh,” you teased, hands laying flat over his chest as you leaned forward, relieved you hadn’t ruined the moment after all, “is big bad Rafe Cameron going weak for me?”

“He always has been,” he nodded, his dimples creasing his cheeks with his sheepish smile.

You slid your hands up to either side of his face, thumbs dipping into his dimples. You’d always wanted to do that. You couldn’t believe that after all that waiting and longing, you really could just lean forward and kiss him if you wanted to. 

So you did, like you were trying to prove to yourself that this was actually real. The second your lips met his, you could tell he was thinking the same exact thing.

Rafe’s hands gripped your hips as he sat up off the seat just slightly to meet your mouth fervently. You bent over him, your hair falling in a curtain around his face. His hands felt so good, so right, warm and strong against you. You smiled into the kiss as you could feel them sliding so slowly, reverently, over your curves, until they found a home on your lower back, bringing you forward to rest fully against him. It was the same gentle control he had taken on the jetski, and it was addictive.

He was hard, you could feel him firm beneath you, and your head flooded with lustful thoughts. You rolled your body just slightly against him, but he felt every second of it, his hands sliding lower until he was kneading the flesh of your ass. Breathless, you paused, forehead against, another roll of your body as you pressed into him.

“Do you want me to stop?” He breathed, chest rising and falling with heavy pants.

“No, don’t, I’ve wanted this for so long,” it came out more desperate than you planned, but you didn’t care, you needed him to know.

“Me too, kid, you have no idea,” he smiled.

Your nose scrunched, pulling back to look at him with narrow eyes, “kid? Really?”

“Well you don’t like when I call you baby, so…”

“That is not what I said,” you laughed, “I said don’t say things you don’t mean. You can call me whatever you want, as long as you mean it”

“In that case…” he leaned in again, hands on either side of your face as his lips met yours before pulling away to meet your eyes as he said, “hey baby.”

You melted into him, his hands cradling your head the only thing keeping you grounded to the planet. He littered your face and jaw with slow, deliberate kisses, working his way toward your neck as he whispered more sweet pet names into your skin.

“Beautiful,” with a kiss to your jaw, “angel,” with a kiss to your neck, just below your ear, “my girl,” with a kiss to your collarbone, lingering to suck on the skin right at the base of your neck, marking you lightly.

Your whole body pulled him in tighter, dizzy with the ecstasy of having him like this. Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging just hard enough to tell him how good he was making you feel. You couldn’t resist but push down into his hardness, muscles tense as his lips tickled the sensitive skin around the collar of your shirt.

“Rafe…” you sighed out as he continued to suck lip shaped marks into you, his hands kneading your ass, arms strong around you like he alone was the one keeping you tethered to the earth.

He pulled away from you just far enough to look you in the eyes, his pupils blown out. There was a kind of darkness in his eyes, sending excitement, and maybe even a touch of fear, shooting through your body. You wondered what would happen if he dropped the gentleness and really seized control, longing to be the one to send him to that place.

“Are you?” He whispered. Hunger, lust, and some more vulnerable third thing laced the deep tenor of his voice as his eyes searched yours, “are you my girl?”

His brows were furrowed so tight with intensity, you worried he was gonna give himself a headache. 

You ran your thumb over the scrunched skin on his forehead, smoothing it out, gentle but firm. You continued to run your fingers over his face, both to put him at ease and to buy yourself time, the answer to his question stuck somewhere in your chest, unwilling or unable to make its way to your tongue.

“I…” you started, the worry growing back on his face at the sound of your hesitation.

Before you could finish the thought, a loud DING! rang out through the quiet car, making you both jump.

“I thought you said your phone was dead?” You questioned, more edge to your tone than you’d meant, frustration over the interruption seeping into your words.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I just wanted more time with you.”

“It’s okay,” you said, a bit non-committal in your forgiveness. “Who is it?”

Rafe sighed as he retrieved his phone from the cupholder, reading the most recent message.

“It’s Top,” he answered, “he’s saying we should get back to the house but won’t say why. So dramatic.”

You chuckled softly, relief washing through Rafe at the return of your smile.

“We should probably go then,” you said, “if for no other reason than I’m nosy and want to know what’s going on.”

He nodded slowly, hands reluctantly letting you go “we’ll come back to this, though, right?”

You knew he meant more than just the kiss and your intimate position in Carter’s front seat. He meant this; the big ‘What Are We?’

Never in a million years would you have guessed that he’d be the one posing the question, or that you’d have this hard of a time coming up with the answer.

(Chapter 8: part two)

a/n: entering my 'posting what's ready when it's ready and not caring about word count' era, welcome!!

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[atlabeth]

pretty boy

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: spencer walks in one day with a new look. you handle it pretty well.

a/n: im in the opposite of a writing slump right now (will prob fall into a writing slump right after i say this) probably because im procrastinating on essays for school and i can only write when im meant to be doing work. but tiny little fluffy spencer one shots are very good for the soul right now. i think it's my way of healing from my hotch fic

wc: 1.8k

warning(s): one slightly sexual joke from emily. all fluff

You usually don’t get to the office this early, but you don’t exactly have a choice. The BAU’s last couple cases have all run one after another, barely leaving you any time in the office, and now you’re paying for it. 

You’ve got a mountain of paperwork to get through and not nearly enough time to do it all—if you’re lucky, you’ll be writing reports for a few days straight. If you’re not, you’ll be putting in some overtime.  

“This is the most focused I’ve ever seen you this early,” Derek comments. 

You shake your head with a sigh. “These reports are government mandated torture.” 

He chuckles, and he nods at Emily as she walks over to her desk. “Are you this busy?” 

She shakes her head. “I’ve still got a report to get through, but nothing that bad.” 

“I get it,” you say wryly. “You’re all more organized than me. Just don’t come to me asking to go out tonight—you know I can’t say no.” 

“But don’t shots taste better when you’re supposed to be doing work?” Derek asks, and you roll your eyes with a laugh. 

“Not when I’ve got this much work I’m supposed to be doing.” 

You hear the elevator ding and glance up—Spencer’s walking through and fixing his tie. You look back down at your report as you greet him. 

“Hey, Spence,” you call. “Why’re you late?” 

“I’m not late,” he says, and you can see him checking his watch out of your peripherals. “I’m two minutes and thirty-three seconds early.” 

“Really?” you muse. “I guess I’m just so used to you being here before me.” 

“You can’t judge my timeliness on yours when you’ve been here for an hour already,” Spencer says. 

You frown, tapping your pen against the paper. “How do you know?” 

“You’re settled in already. Your coat’s on your chair, your stack of unfinished files is smaller than it was last time we were in the office, your coffee isn’t steaming, and your mug has a chipped handle—when they were put away last night, that one was set in the front, so you’d have to be here early to get it.” 

“Touche,” you murmur. You’re not sure why you ever ask your team of profilers how they know something. 

“You also look like you don’t want to be here,” he comments. “That’s pretty typical of agents who have to be here before their regular hours.” 

You chuckle and tilt your head in admission. You don’t really want to be here, especially running on so few hours of sleep. 

“Why aren’t you as early as usual?” Emily asks. 

“My neighbor knocked on my door this morning to ask me for something,” Spencer says. “It threw off my whole routine. I picked the wrong tie, I couldn’t pack my bag properly, and I had to toast my bagel for two minutes instead of three and a half to make it out in time.” 

“How terrible,” Derek says with mock austerity. 

“It is terrible!” he exclaims. “It’s scientifically proven that a morning routine makes you happier, more energized, and ready to seize the day—carpe diem.” Spencer sets his bag on the floor next to his desk and looks at everyone else with a smile. “Did you know that phrase was actually coined by the Roman poet Horace in his Odes? It comes from the first book out of four in the eleventh poem—the full phrase in Latin is carpe diem, quam mini—”

“How was your bagel?” Emily asks to interrupt him, and he pauses. 

“It was good,” he says. “Could’ve been toastier.” 

You look up, a teasing remark on the edge of your tongue, but the words die in your throat when you actually see him. 

Spencer’s started combing a hand through his hair to fix it—must have been another part of his affected morning routine—his lips set in a pout as he tries to see his reflection in his dark monitor. He always looks good, even without trying, but now—

“You’re wearing glasses,” you say dumbly. 

“My contacts dried out,” he grumbles, still focused on his hair. “We got home so late last night I forgot to put them in their solution, and I had no time to fix them because my neighbor messed up my whole morning.” 

You nod, still unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Are you gonna keep wearing them?” 

“I don’t know. Contacts are better for cases because I’m not worried about them falling off or fogging up, but I usually sleep on the jet on the way back, and sleeping with contacts in isn’t good.” He smiles a bit as he fully turns to you, seemingly satisfied with his hair. “It reduces the amount of oxygen that gets to your cornea, which damages the cornea’s surface and makes it harder to regenerate new cells. Sleeping with contacts actually makes you six to eight times more likely to get an eye infection.”

You nod again, your brain still not quite working at full power. You always love listening to Spencer’s fact dumps—it gives you a lot of material to impress your non-BAU friends with on the side, and you’re eternally thankful for that—but right now, you seriously cannot focus. 

You’d never really thought about him in glasses, but that’s probably a good thing if this is how it makes you feel. 

You were valedictorian as an undergrad, and you received stellar feedback from your professors during your masters program. You’re an excellent profiler, a valued member of the BAU, and you’re a goddamn FBI agent. 

And yet you can’t find a single thought in your head because your coworker showed up to work wearing glasses. 

He’s still rambling about other common causes of eye infection and how nobody seems to take them as seriously as they should, when Derek, not even trying to hide his grin at your turmoil, speaks up.  

“Reid. Wanna cool it a bit?” 

Spencer’s eyes dart over to him for a moment before he stops. “Uh— sorry.” He frowns as he looks back at you. “Why do you ask? Do you not like them?” 

“No,” you blurt out, and you shake your head a multitude of times. “No. They look great. You look great. They’re—” You dig your nails hard into your palm as you try your hardest to smile like normal, and this time you nod. “They’re good, Spence.” 

“Thanks.” Spencer does that little smile-nod combo of his, and he pushes his glasses back into place with his thumb by the bottom of the frames. “That’s nice to know I’ve got another option.” 

You thank whatever god may be out there that Hotch and Penelope are busy in their offices and JJ is busy with some other case, because you think you would die if anyone else saw you like this. 

“Hey, Reid,” Emily says, also not doing a very good job of hiding her amusement. You hate your team sometimes. “They’re almost out of sugar in the breakroom. If you want coffee the way you like it this morning, you should probably get in there.” 

“What?” Spencer shoots up, his brows already furrowing into a frown. “That— that’s ridiculous. I can’t mess up my morning any more.” 

“You’d better get in there, then,” she remarks. 

“We’re an entire office of agents running on coffee,” Spencer complains as he starts walking. “How are we almost out of sugar?” 

“Because half of ‘em drink it black,” Derek says, and Spencer shakes his head with a sigh as he leaves. 

“That’s ridiculous.” 

You bury your head in your hands the moment he’s gone and Derek laughs. “I wish I could’ve gotten that on video.” 

“Don’t talk to me,” you groan. “It is not fair of him to walk in like that.” 

“And that is why I call him pretty boy.”

“He needs them to see,” Emily says with amusement as she leans against the side of your desk. “You just can’t control yourself.” 

“I need to transfer offices,” you say, shaking your head. “I can’t do this.” 

“You should ask him out!” Derek encourages. “He’d probably say yes.” 

“Absolutely not,” you insist. “I doubt he likes me like that. A— and even if he does, that’s the last thing either of us need right now.” 

“I don’t know,” Emily muses. “It looks like you clearly need something.” 

You let out a frustrated noise as you screw your eyes shut. “I’m doomed.” 

You hear Spencer say your name, and when you look over at him, one hand still pressed against your head, you see he’s got two cups of coffee in his hands. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you say weakly. “I’m great. Why?” 

“I got you one too,” he says, holding one of the mugs out to you. “The one you have is probably cold by now, and it looks like you need an extra kick to get through all those reports.” 

“Thanks, Spence. That’s sweet.” He nods as you take the proffered mug, and you swear your cheeks are as warm as the coffee. He is really testing your strength today. 

“You— you have a lot,” he says, and you huff a dry laugh and nod. “I’m not trying to be sarcastic. I could take half of them if you want?” 

Your grip tightens on the mug and you can feel Derek’s eyes on you. “I couldn’t make you do that, Spence.” 

“You’re not!” Spencer exclaims. “I can get through mine really quickly—we worked together for almost the whole last case so I can do all of that anyways.” 

“...You’re sure it wouldn’t be an imposition?” 

“I’m sure,” he nods. “Besides, I offered. I wouldn’t if I didn’t want to.” 

And god damn him, because he nudges his glasses back into place again, pushes a strand of loose hair back into place. You’re dying over here. 

You set the mug of coffee on your desk and pick up the top half of your pile. “All yours, Spence.” 

He takes the bottom half and smiles at you, and you smile back before he walks back to his desk. You are dying over here. 

“Let me know how I can pay you back,” you say, and he shakes his head. 

“You don’t need to pay me back.” 

“Really?” 

Spencer nods. “I mean, Morgan invited us all out on the jet last night, and I don’t think I can do it alone. If you can get out of the office in time, I don’t have to. I think that's enough of a payback.” 

“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll be there.” 

He smiles again and nods, then he picks up a pen and focuses in. You turn back to your desk, your face burning. 

“What was that about him not liking you like that?” Derek says. 

“Quiet!” you whisper-yell, swatting him with the pile of files in your hand. “He might hear you!” 

“He’s not hearing anything while he’s focused on that,” he says. “That just means you can ogle him more.” 

You groan again, letting your forehead fall into your palm. “I’m pathetic.” 

“I think you’re right.” Emily chuckles as she stands up. “You are doomed.” 

[rafey-baby]

forbidden fruit

Once upon a time there was a princess and a hunter...

snow white!reader x hunter!rafe

18+ mdni!

c/w: mentions of violence (he holds a knife to her throat & threatens to kill her), her being a naive sheltered princess, some angst & some fluff & him being slightly suggestive? also if it’s not obvious this is *loosely* based on the story of snow white

wc: 3k

ahh the first part is here xx

moodboard

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Do you have a favorite flower?”  

The quietness that follows makes her wonder if the brooding man alongside her had heard her question at all.   

She’s not entirely certain why the queen had been so adamant that this grumpy huntsman was to accompany her on this peculiar evening walk, when she’s never even uttered a word to him before— doesn’t even know his name.   

When she’d asked why they had to go so suddenly and after the sunset had already colored the skyline with its cherry tinge, he’d merely muttered something along the lines of ‘following Her Majesty’s orders’.   

She’s well aware of her stepmother’s disdain for her, never quite understanding why her father had married such a cold woman to begin with. However, it has never been in her wishes to upset her any further than she apparently does by simply existing, which is why she’d quietly agreed without much resistance— even if the request had seemed rather strange to her.       

“Uh…I dunno, they all sort of look the same to me, Your Highness,” the sudden rumble interrupts her thoughts.   

“Oh,” she’s slightly taken aback by the gravel in his tone, offering him her own answer nonetheless. “I love daisies.”

“Right,” he mumbles out; mind apparently lost somewhere else entirely as he keeps leading her deeper and deeper into the grim, bleak woods. With every step she takes, the leafy trees begin to turn into something impending, sinister— their slender branches beginning to resemble bony fingers, merely waiting for the right moment to latch onto her and claw at her arms.  

Therefore, she’d much rather hear his voice instead of this daunting lull in their conversation (if she could even call it that). Unfortunately, what she’s gathered from their brief interactions so far, is that the preferred topic of discussion for a man— a hunter like him, is silence. 

And that’s something the murky forest around them is already far too generously presenting her with; this late into the day not even the bluebirds chirp their delightful melodies to make the eerily serene atmosphere of this prolonged journey of theirs a little less dreadful.  

“What’s, um, what’s your name?” she attempts to have him speak some more.   

“Rafe,” he merely offers her a fleeting glance; as if it’s the most tedious thing in the world to even utter out his own name to her.  

Rafe. 

Upon further observation of the rugged lines of his face, she decides it suits him. What doesn’t suit him, however, is the ever-present scowl staining his (rather handsome) features. It’s almost as if something is tormenting him, acidic, putrid on his tongue.  

“Is something wrong?” she questions next, him being vague on purpose not exactly soothing her concerns regarding this entirely too ominous trip.  

They’ve been strolling along some path he apparently has in his mind for quite some time now, at this point nearly reaching the very core of the vast forest that surrounds the entirety of the kingdom.  

“Everything’s fine,” his tone is gruff— a heavy palm on the small of her back nudging her forward when she momentarily halts her movements.   

“Do we have to go so far? M’getting cold,” she complains because even if the palace hasn’t felt like home ever since her dear father’s passing, she wants nothing more now than to return to the thermal fireplace and silky sheets in her bedchamber.

All of a sudden, the snapping of a branch somewhere close causes her to flinch. 

In tandem, they both turn towards the noise as it transforms into foreboding rustling of leaves and something akin to footfall against the muddy ground; forcing a shiver to crawl under her skin.   

She’s beginning to prepare herself to face some gruesome monster when out of the blue, the smallest white-tailed deer she’s ever laid her eyes upon, pokes its head from behind a tree trunk.   

She gasps in adoration; tiptoeing closer to the trembling animal before crouching down.   

“Hello there. Why are you here all by yourself?” she asks with a tender coo— mindfully reaching a hand out to pet its ruffled head.  

Seemingly liking her, it takes a careful step towards her in a moment of bravery; teddy bear eyes curious.   

“Well, aren’t you adorable? I wish I had something for you to eat but I don’t,” she croons out as it nestles its slobbery nose into the hollow of her hand, when all at once, its button eyes dilate and its fleecy ears lift up in alarm.  

“Wha—” she doesn’t have the time to finish her sentence before it’s hurriedly scrambling away from her and disappearing into the viridescent foliage in the blink of an eye.   

She looks over her shoulder to locate the source of such horror, coming face-to-face with a gleaming blade and Rafe’s threatening eyes fixed on her suddenly immobile form.   

“What are you—” her words wither away on her frightened tongue when he abruptly brings the hunting knife to her throat—terror wrapping around her like yarn, tautening around her organs and making her helpless heart thump against her ribcage in a state of hysteria. 

“Don’t make this any harder than it has to be, alright? I promise I’ll make it quick,” he sounds determined, her unnerved eyes rounding out. 

“Rafe, you don’t— you don’t have to do this,” she manages out before she feels the harsh edge cut into her delicate skin just the slightest bit— a droplet of crimson trickling down her neck and towards her heaving chest.  

His gaze tracks the rivulet as it dribbles down all the way into her cleavage; leaving a scarlet trail to stain her skin in its wake as her pounding head begins to spin. 

She sits there on the forest floor, unmoving and unable to properly suck in air through her lungs as trepidation slithers itself into the crevices of her bones; merging into her marrow and turning her limbs into icebound liquid. 

“You think I want to?” he mutters out through his teeth.   

“I— I don’t understand...why are you doing this?” she squeaks out when he squeezes the handle in his fist— seemingly torn between two alternatives yanking him into separate directions, their claws scraping at both of his arms.  

“Cause the queen wants your heart on a platter n’ I’m supposed to be doin’ what Her Majesty tells me to, yeah?” he spits out the title as if it’s rotten; as if it’s tasted acrid in his mouth for a long while now.   

“My heart? Why would she want my heart?” she asks with something akin to hurt in her voice; not realizing her stepmother’s hatred towards her branched as far as wanting her dead.   

“Cause she’s lost her fuckin’ mind,” he huffs out; still tightly gripping onto the weapon. “...but then you look at me with those fuckin’ eyes and how am I— how am I supposed to…kill that?” he rambles more to himself than her, making her brows knit together even further.  

“You don’t— you don’t have to, you can let me go and I’ll— I’ll hide in the forest,” she suggests, voice wavering.  

“And freeze to death?” he scoffs.  

“I thought you wanted me dead?” she sounds disconcerted.  

“I don’t want you dead!” his volume is as clamorous as thunder, frustrated.   

“But you’re holding a knife to my throat?” her voice trembles; the frigid steel still imprinting her skin.  

“Yeah, cause I’m supposed to fuckin’ kill you, alright?”  

“I…I don’t understand,” her tone is a muted whisper and at last, he loosens his hold on the knife— a faint thud echoing in the space between them as it hits the soil covered in moss. 

Then, he’s shaking his head, seemingly exasperated with the girl before him. “Talkin’ to fuckin’ deers n’ shit. I mean, who the hell does that?”   

“I…I do? They’re my friends, why wouldn’t I talk to them?” she bats her lashes at him, seemingly confused out her innocent little mind. 

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he lets out bitter scoff. “Now tell me, what am I supposed to do with you, hm?”   

“You’re not going to…” she swallows the rest of the words— too vile, brutal for her to say out loud.   

“Since you’re makin’ it so fuckin’ hard, no,” he lets out a displeased breath before presenting his palm for her to hold onto.  

“Get up,” he orders, nearly glaring at her.  

“Oh, um, thank you,” she blinks up at his frowning countenance, gingerly grasping onto his much bigger hand and letting him lift her up with ease.  

“Right, uh, why don’t we get you somewhere warm, yeah? You must be freezin’ only wearin’ that dress,” he clears his throat when he notices a tremor rattling through her in tandem with a frosty breeze sweeping past them.  

Taken aback by his sudden concern over her well-being, she merely stands there with a blank expression before he flits his eyes over to hers; seemingly expecting a response. 

“Oh, um...I think— I think I saw a cottage on our way here,” hesitation tinges her suggestion.  

“You did? Where?”  

“It was, um…” she pads along the faint traces of their original route she had sidetracked from in order to greet the baby deer— his heavy footsteps following close behind.   

“There,” she points her index finger towards a small hut partly hidden away behind old, lush trees. 

When they step onto the threshold, she softly knocks on the mahogany door decorated with intricate swirls and designs embedded into the wood.   

“Hello? Would it be possible if we could come in to warm up a little bit? It’s terribly cold out here,” she politely asks.   

However, they’re not granted any sort of a reply.   

“I don’t think anyone’s home,” Rafe notes as he peers through the windows into the unlit interior, before trying his luck and pushing down the handle.  

To both of their surprise, the door is unlocked.   

“Rafe! We can’t just break into someone’s home,” she scolds him with wide eyes.   

“S’not breakin’ in if the door’s open,” he merely shrugs before cautiously stepping inside— having to duck his head since the roof is hanging far too low for his tall figure.   

He looks around the compact space, as if to make sure they truly are alone, before glancing over his shoulder at her still tentative form shivering in the doorway. “What are you waitin’ for? Come in. Unless you wanna get sick standin’ out there?”   

She feels guilt eat away at her soul when she gingerly steps inside the cozy cabin, feeling far too much like an intruder, even if Rafe doesn’t seem all that bothered by entering a complete stranger’s place of residence without permission.  

“Shit, why are these chairs so small?” he complains when the wooden stool creaks under his weigh; threatening to crack as he lights up some candles he found— the walls soon bathing under the burnt-orange flames.    

“Maybe we should go somewhere else,” she suggests meekly.   

“S’not like we have options to choose from,” he points out; stretching his big arms over his head in an attempt to get comfortable.  

“You’re right...I’m sure whoever lives here will understand we needed a place to stay, right?” she tries to convince herself in hopes of brushing her worries under the rug.  

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Let’s see if they have anything to eat around here,” he dismisses her as he stands tall on his feet once more, before he’s opening and closing the cabinets and cupboards in a search for food.  

“Why do they have so many fuckin’ apples in here?” he mindlessly questions when he sees a pile of the red fruit hiding behind one door.  

“Oh, I could make you an apple pie?” 

He turns to look at her beaming with that sudden grand idea of hers.  

“Uh, m’not sure if that’s…”  

“Do you not like them?” she sounds nearly concerned, as if not liking apple pies should be considered a crime in the fairytale world inside her skull.   

“Nah, I do, I just— shouldn’t we be comin’ up with some plan to keep you safe n’ shit? And not bakin’ pies. We don’t really have all the time in the world before the queen finds out you’re alive,” he mutters out. 

“Well, I don’t know about you but I can’t think with an empty stomach. And, um, it would also be a thank you for you sparing my life,” she timidly looks up at him. 

He clears his throat at that, seemingly surprised by her sentimentality; feeling unworthy of the gratitude she’s so willingly offering him. “Right, yeah, uh, alright. Well, you do that and I’ll go get us some firewood or somethin’, yeah?”  

“That sounds perfect,” she smiles.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -   

Later, when he returns to the cottage, the saccharine smell of oven-baked apples instantaneously whirls around him— holding him in a cinnamon-scented embrace and dragging a grumble from his stomach.   

“Oh, you’re back just in time!” she exclaims as she sets down two porcelain plates for them.  

“I might’ve went a little overboard with the cinnamon but I hope you don’t mind?” she asks while cutting through the steaming pie that’s making him practically drool.   

“Uh, nah, I…love cinnamon,” he murmurs, not sure why he just said that since he doesn’t particularly even like cinnamon. However, he’s certain that nothing that smells like that could possibly taste bad.  

“Really? Me too!”  

He thinks this is the first time he’s seen her eyes glitter in that way; as if he’s just single-handedly hung the moon or professed his undying love for her. It makes something unfamiliar poke at his insides— scratching at his organs and begging to be let out. However, he decides not to pay it any mind as he sits down on the kitchen chair that’s still entirely too tiny for him.   

“Do you like it?” she asks with her gaze glued to his expression when he takes his first bite. She hasn’t even touched her own slice; opting to stare at him instead and momentarily, he wonders why she’s so eager to please him.   

“This might just be the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth,” he can’t help but groan out loud in response to the luscious flavors practically melting on his tongue.  

She swallows at that, mind seemingly stuck somewhere else entirely before she softly clears her throat. “You, um, you think so?”   

“Uh huh,” he hums out with delight before shoving another forkful of softened apple pieces and golden-brown crust into his mouth— a smirk soon blossoming on his face when he catches on to the double entendre of his mindless compliment that apparently turned her all shy.     

“Someone’s got a dirty mind,” he chuckles, mocking her.   

“I…” she opens and then closes her mouth like a goldfish. “I do not—”   

“Alright, you caught me. Second best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth,” he decides to toy with this sweet little princess some more, for some reason wants to see her all flustered; in some crooked way enjoys having an effect on her.   

“Um, right…yeah,” she stumbles over her words; eyes flickering towards her plate as she finally digs into her own portion.   

He’s all too preoccupied grinning at the way she’s avoiding his gaze when out of the blue, the sight of a bed peeking through the slightly ajar bedroom door catches his attention.  

And it’s not so much the piece of furniture that halts his chewing and makes a crease form between his brows, but more so the size of it. It forces his feet to move on their own accord to the room where he’s met with six more beds— just as minuscule as the first one.  

At that, he wonders if he really was so caught up with the princess that his brain couldn’t fit the very clear pieces together any earlier.   

“Oh shit, I think I know these guys n’ I don’t think they’ll be too happy to see me here when they get back,” he mutters while padding back towards the kitchen. 

“What do you mean?” concern paints over her features.   

“Nah, nothin’ just…uh, they don’t like me very much, so we gotta leave. I mean, they probably won’t mind you bein’ here all that much. They’re probably real friendly if you don’t piss them off like I have,” he scratches at the back of his head.      “What did you do?”  

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Uh, I have this cabin for when I’m hunting, but s’not very close. Think we should be safe there for tonight though. Unless you wanna stay here?”   

“No, I wanna go with you. I— I don’t want to stay here alone,” she’s quick to answer. 

“You sure?” he raises his brows.  

She nods.   

“Yeah? S’probably gonna be a few hours on foot. Think you can walk for that long in the woods, princess?” he asks next, his cadence turning into something playful.   

“Of course I can. I have two healthy legs,” she sounds almost offended. 

“I can see that,” an entertained smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “And you’re not scared of the dark either?” he adds, almost as if testing her.  

“Of course not,” she lies through her teeth— eliciting a humored chuckle from him.  

“Mm. Could’ve sworn you were getting a little jumpy on our way here, but must’ve imagined it, right?” he drawls out, eyes narrowing in a challenge. 

“Yeah…” she doesn’t give in, a smile beginning to pull at her lips to match his own; neither of them seeming to mind when something feather-light takes the place of the once leaden ambience between them. 

Momentarily, she wonders why she’d never talked to this strangely captivating hunter before— his blue velvet eyes nearly entrancing, compelling her into an incantation she seems to unconsciously gravitate towards.   

However, the spell is soon broken when he takes a step closer to her, leaning over towards the table to blow off the flickering blaze of the candles— a dusky obscurity dancing around them once more. 

[asahicore]

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 yet 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.”

“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.

© asahicore on Tumblr, 2024. please do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works. support your creators by reblogging and leaving feedback!

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[andvys]

You said you were gonna grow up (then you were gonna come find me) ⭐︎ S.H.

⭐︎ Warnings: slight angst, mutual pining, idiots in love, childhood best friends to lovers, allusions to cheating (but not really), mentions of sex, mentions of unrequited love, hurt/comfort

⭐︎ Summary: You and Steve used to be inseparable, best friends since childhood, you shared something special, something rare. You promised each other forever but... promises are never to keep... right?

⭐︎ Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

⭐︎ Word count: 10k

⭐︎ Author's note: To my Steve girlies who have read (and still mourn) I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss -- in the middle of writing this little oneshot, I noticed that Steve and reader reminded me of someone, and then I realized that it's basically Steve and Cheer in a different universe (if Steve hadn't fucked up as badly as he did). This is... what they should have been.

Also shoutout to @hellfire--cult for inspiring me to finish this oneshot (finally) and @ghost-proofbaby thank you for picking a title for me, and for your sweet words about this little piece, you're both the bestest

⭐︎ my library

divider by @saradika (I screamed when I saw the folklore dividers)

♡

The smell of weed and smoke lingers in the air, music blares through the house and bounces off the walls, laughter and giggles come from every corner, conversations he couldn’t care less about yet listens in on because what else is there to do at a party? 

Steve once found himself at home in such gatherings, now he feels nothing but bored as he watches the people instead of interacting with them like he once used to do. 

He used to be on the dancefloor, at the keg stand, pressing some girl against the wall and kissing her neck before taking her upstairs into one of the empty bedrooms – but those days are long over and they are not to be missed, not in the slightest. 

Now he is sitting out in the backyard of some stranger’s house, sipping on a lukewarm soda and waiting for Robin to get sick of this party so he can take her home before going to his empty house and crashing out on his new bed. Seeing as she’s jumping around on the dancefloor with Vickie, it doesn’t seem like she'll want to leave anytime soon. 

 A sigh falls from his lips and he slumps his shoulders in boredom. 

He could be socializing, talking to girls, flirting with them, with the ones who keep waving at him and sending him suggestive, overly sweet looks – he isn’t interested. The past few months were wasted ones, disastrous dates, one or two meaningless hookups, girls who weren’t interested in him but only in sex – that was his reality and he didn’t want that anymore, he doesn’t want that anymore, he wants something real, he wants to feel something, he wants someone to want him for more than just that one thing, he wants a connection, a bond, he wants… you. 

Steve’s lips part, his eyes lighten up, glowing just like the stars in the night sky, he sits up straighter and cranes his neck to see you better, his heart skipping in a way it hasn’t in a long time, he forgot what it feels like… but of course you are the one to remind him of the way his heart can skip and flutter when he feels something, you have always been the one, the only one. 

Not even Nancy could make him feel half of the things you could make him feel. 

But he blew his chances with you – the only chances that ever mattered. 

He hears your laughter, your beautiful giggles that he missed every day since you left, even from all the way here, he can hear the voice that accompanied him throughout most of his life… until it didn’t. 

You were his best friend, the only friend that mattered until he found Robin. You were with him from the moment your mothers introduced you both to each other, joined at the hip, you went through it all together, different hobbies, different friend groups, first crushes and rough school days, arguments with so called friends, first parties, first drunken nights, you went through so much and you did it all together, you experienced everything together. 

Steve would sneak into your room, late at night, he would use the vines on the wall as a ladder, no matter how many times you scolded him, he still climbed up because he wanted to see you so desperately, even when he spent the whole day with you, it just wasn’t enough, you’d spent the nights whispering and talking about the newest gossips, sometimes he would paint your nails or braid your hair, sometimes you would just lie next to each other and listen to some new album and sometimes you would cuddle and fall asleep in each other’s arms, it was a regular thing, it was something constant. 

But then something changed, you both got curious, you both started acting upon feelings that have been there for a long time already, feelings that were no longer innocent and childish turned into something more. 

You were each other’s first kiss, it was nothing more than a peck at first… and then it was a second and a third before you kissed for real. And then, it was just another regular thing, you started cuddling and kissing every night, smiling and giggling through it all, holding hands and pulling each other closer and closer. 

Those innocent kisses turned into makeout sessions and those turned into your first time. 

It was his first time and yours, you shared it with each other, like you shared everything else together. 

It was filled with nervous giggles, blushing cheeks and shaky touches, you were both scared to do something wrong but you assured one another and you both did your best, he took care of you and you of him. It was slow, it was soft, it was perfect. A night he will never forget. 

Nothing ever came close to this moment, nothing came ever close to how you made him feel. 

Steve should have asked you out after that night, he should’ve, but he didn’t, he chickened out, he got scared and he left the next morning without saying goodbye. That was his biggest mistake. 

To this day, he doesn’t know how you felt about it all, you never spoke of this night again, you never mentioned it again, you both acted like nothing happened, you continued your friendship like you didn’t ruin it. 

He kept coming over, everything stayed the same… but it didn’t. 

You started slipping away from him and he was too busy to notice, he became captain of the basketball team, girls started noticing him, he started going on dates even though you were all he could think about, it felt wrong to hold their hands, to kiss them, to touch them, he felt as though he was betraying you but his new friend Tommy encouraged him, spoke lies into his ear about how you went on dates on the nights you canceled on him. 

He was hurt, he was angry, and it only was a matter of time before he invited a girl who wasn’t you into his sheets. 

He hated how he felt afterwards, but he didn’t stop, he kept going and before he could even blink, he was the most popular boy in school, he was King Steve, the guy who could have anyone but still only had eyes for one. 

Though your shared nights became less frequent, you still spent time with him, even when you weren’t fond of Tommy and Carol, his big parties or the way he treated girls, you were still there and it bothered him that he couldn’t have you. 

It was clear that you didn’t feel the same, despite the many signs that he had missed at that time. He was your best friend, just your best friend, just Steve. He could’ve made a move, he could've asked you out on a date, he could’ve finally confronted you about your night together and how you felt about it, how you felt about him, but he was scared and it was ironic really, because he was good with girls, very charming and cocky, smug and arrogant but not with you, no, not with you. You made him nervous, you made his chest feel weird, his stomach too, you made his heart race and flutter, you made his skin feel hot and his mind all crazy. 

You got him bad. 

You made him fall in love. 

But he was a coward when it came to his feelings for you, he really was, he didn’t even want to admit them to himself, so he watched you slip through his fingers instead of taking action and making you his. His feelings got stronger despite the distance that slowly grew between you.

You were still there, physically, but your mind was somewhere else and you seemed so far away.

He left notes in your locker, just like he did when he was a kid. 

And you did the same to him. 

You waved at each other from afar and shared smiles, you still drove around town and sang along to your favorite songs after an occasional trip to that one diner out of town, you sometimes slept over and left your sweet scent on his pillows, driving him crazy with it. You were still each other’s best friends. 

But then Nancy stepped into his life and that was it, at that point, it was already crumbling, your friendship was hanging by a thread and it earned its final blow when you moved away for college. 

Occasional calls and letters were all that existed between you at that point, it drove him crazy, it made him sad. He suffered heartbreak when you were gone and you weren’t there to mend it, you weren’t there to hold him, to wipe his tears and tell him that he would be alright – how could you? You were the reason for that heartbreak and Nancy was the one who gave him the final push to open his eyes to the feelings he kept pushing away and feeling so scared of. 

When he realized what a mistake he had made, it was far too late to fix it and he never stopped regretting the actions he took and didn’t take. 

But now you are here, you are back. 

He hasn’t heard your voice in so long, he hasn’t seen your beauty in forever, he missed your presence so dearly. 

One year, one whole year without you. 

Are you here to stay for the summer or are you back for good? He hopes it’s the latter, this town felt anything but home without you here. 

Steve stares at you, he stares and stares without shame. His lips are curled into a soft smile, his cheeks already blushing as he takes you in. 

You are so gorgeous. 

A confident smile is lingering on your lips, your makeup is a little bolder than it used to be, back then, but it suits you, your skirt is short, your top is tight, your cleavage is showing and your skin is glowing, your hair is much longer than he remembers it to be, a few highlights added to your pretty hair color and styled into waves. 

You have always been a sight for sore eyes, he was aware of your beauty from a young age, he called you his princess, his sweet, cute and beautiful princess. But you are more than just beautiful now, you are stunning, bewitching, you are heavenly. 

His heart jumps at the sound of your giggle, his skin heating up so rapidly that it catches him off guard. 

Steve watches you, he watches for what feels like forever, you’re here with friends, girls you used to hang out with back in high school. 

The smile never leaves his lips as he keeps his eyes on you, his heart fluttering more and more each passing second, eyes continuing to light up at every sound of your giggle. 

When you step away from your friends and walk back into the house, he wastes no time to follow, grabbing the chance that he once missed, he goes after you and leaves his drink abandoned on the floor. 

He brushes past a group of guys playing beer pong, dodging the dancing people on the dancefloor, keeping his eyes on your body as he follows. Your skirt is swaying, your waves are bouncing, your hips are shaking slightly, your sweet scent lingers in the air and he can’t help but inhale it deeply, it’s still the same scent that he missed on his pillows and the hoodies you used to steal.

With your back turned to him, you stop in front of the snack table and pour yourself a cup of the overly alcoholised punch. 

Steve doesn’t approach you right away, standing by the doorway, he decides to watch you for a second longer, feeling giddy and nervous now that he is so close to you again. 

You nearly choke on the punch, the bitter taste of alcohol overpowering the fruity taste, you scrunch your brows together and swallow it down in disgust, unimpressed by this drink after all the different kind of cocktails you have tried in the past months on your night outs to bars with your girlfriends from college. 

A sigh falls from your lips and you take a second, much needed sip. 

It feels weird to be back home in Hawkins, the town is much quieter than the big city you called home for the past year and you feel that weird tingly shudder on the back of your neck, knowing that he is so close somewhere. 

Steve. 

You miss him so much, you miss him everyday, but it’s been so long, you can’t even remember the last time you have talked to him. You know that he still works at Family Video and his friend Robin moved into his house with him after his parents moved away from Hawkins, for good. 

But that’s all, you don’t know if he is single or if he is dating – you fear your heart wouldn’t take the information very well, which is ironic really, you haven’t seen him in so long, all you have are your memories, some of which you kept in a shoebox under your bed, pictures, notes, letters and little presents from him. Steve was nothing but a ghost these past months and yet it didn’t stop your heart from falling deeper in love… even with just the boy in your memory, the one that will haunt you for the rest of your life. 

A sigh falls from your lips as you look down at the red beverage in your cup, you close your eyes and take another sip and swallow it but this time in delight, you welcome the burning in your throat. 

“You still make that cute face when you don’t like something.” 

The voice you have just been thinking about sounds deeper than it did when you left. 

Those shudders at the back of your neck, run down your spine and transform into heat across your whole body, your heart skips a few beats.

You turn to face him, sloshing the drink around in your cup, you nearly spill it on the white tiles beneath you. Your breath hitches in your throat and your chest tightens when you look at him for the first time again, those hazel eyes that you have missed so much staring back at you with excitement yet nervousness and you have no doubt that your own eyes match the look in his. 

Your lips curl into a shy smile, your cheeks heat up so quickly and you nearly crush the plastic cup in your hand when you let your eyes roam his body. He somehow got even taller, his arms look stronger and his shoulders wider, his hair got longer too, a spitcurl hanging over his forehead, his cheeks are rosy, a stubble covering his jaw and chin, your eyes move down his arm, stopping at the black hair tie around his wrist that momentarily steals your breath away and fills your chest with hope. You lick your lips and swallow as you stare at the veins in his hands. 

There he stands with his stupid, still perfectly styled hair and his Levi’s that are always way too tight around his crotch, looking down at you and reminding you of how much taller he is and always was. 

“Hey,” he breathes, nervously, happily. 

“Steve,” you say with a smile on your lips, “hi.”

Truthfully, Steve doesn’t know what to say, your heart is beating so hard, he can feel it in his throat, he feels so nervous, you make him nervous. His charm, his flirtatious side still fades into nothing when he is around you and the world around him still disappears when he is with you, some things truly never change. 

He wants to take a step closer and wrap his arms around you, he wants to hug you and never let go again but he doesn’t want to overstep so he forces himself to stay in place. 

“Y-You’re back,” he smiles, trying to hide his excitement. 

You nod, probably a little too quickly. 

“Yeah, I’m back,” you nod again, feeling awkward and tense standing here before him after all the countless nights you spent thinking, dreaming about him. 

He breathes heavily and fidgets with the hair tie around his wrist, “for the summer or…?”

You shake your head, unable to look away from his beautiful eyes. 

“No, I-I transferred to uh the community college here…” You scrunch your face up when you see the surprised look on his face. “I know, lame right? Moving away from Chicago and back to your hometown is uh not the.. move.” 

Not the move? He repeats in his head. 

This might be the best day of his life – the day he had been waiting for, for your return. 

Steve’s eyes widen, he purses his lips as he starts shaking his head, raising his hand a little, he steps closer to you. 

“No! No, I’m just surprised, that’s all, I didn’t think you’d ever come back… honestly,” he chuckles nervously and brings his hand up to scratch the side of his neck. “But I’m happy to see you back here again.” 

Happy is an understatement, the feelings in him can’t be put into words, they do not exist. 

Your eyes soften at his words, your smile transforming into a soft one, hope swirling inside of you. 

Did he miss you like you missed him? 

“I’m happy to see you,” he adds, his cheeks heating up at his admission and your beauty doesn’t help his case, his eyes roam your body, your pretty features, your soft skin, the chain around your neck that looks oh so familiar, his heart starts beating faster, his hands shaking from the giddiness lingering in him. “Y-You look…” Stunning, mesmerizing, gorgeous, sexy, adorable, like an angel or a goddess. “Amazing.” He breathes, blushing red.

Your eyebrows pull together as your wide eyes fill with emotion. 

You see the way he looks at you, you see the redness in his cheeks, the shyness in his eyes that surprises you the most. 

You take a shaky breath, cursing at the way your cheeks heat up and glow so hotly. 

“Thank you,” you say without stutter, to your own surprise. “You don’t look bad yourself, Harrington,” you smirk at him, smugness taking over your blushing features when you see him looking down in nervousness. 

Did you just make Steve blush? 

You open your mouth again, feeling the urge to compliment him again when a whistle interrupts you and wipes the smirk off your face, instead a look of disgust takes over your features when you turn your head to see Tommy Hagan looking you up and down with a perverted smile on his face. 

He pushes his way between you, earning a glare from Steve, whose face turned stone cold and angry. Tommy grabs a red solo cup and pours himself some of the punch while he continues to give you nasty looks, chuckling when looks at your cleavage, “shit, now I get why Harrington always kept his favorite toy to himself,” he smirks and takes a sip of his drink before he steps back to wink at Steve, wiping his chin and looking back to you, “you really grew up.” 

Your lips curl downwards, your brows pull together in a frown. 

“Dude, what the fuck,” Steve frowns at him, giving him a disapproving look. 

Tommy always made you feel uncomfortable with his comments and his weird looks, but it was something else back then. This is new, this is disgusting. 

“If I knew back then that you were hiding these behind your sweaters, I would’ve definitely hit it,” he chuckles darkly as he stares at your boobs. 

Bile rises in your throat and your grip tightens on your cup, the urge to throw your punch into his face growing strong. 

Steve rolls his eyes, a frustrated sigh falls from his lips and he steps towards his former friend, he places his hand on his chest and pushes him back as he takes a protective stance in front of you, protecting you from Tommy’s prying eyes. 

“Alright, that’s enough, asshole,” Steve mumbles angrily. “Leave her alone or I swear to–”

“You swear to what, man? You and I both know you can’t do shit,” Tommy laughs at Steve, his eyes crinkle in amusement, irritating Steve further. 

Steve might’ve lost most of his fights, but he wouldn’t lose one if it came to you. 

He clenches his jaw and glares down at him, feeling rage burn within him. 

“Seriously dude, get lost, alright?” He demands, his voice sounding deeper, more serious than before. 

You look over Steve’s shoulder, feeling safe and protected by him, the way you always did, just even more now. Your stomach flutters with warmth, your heart swelling in your chest. 

To your surprise, Tommy steps away without another word, continuing to chuckle at Steve and the glare on his face. He gives you another look. 

“Call me if you–”

“Fuck off, Tommy,” Steve says through gritted teeth, feeling hot rage flushing through him. 

Tommy takes another sip as he walks backwards, winking at you before he finally turns around and leaves the kitchen, allowing you to finally breathe. 

Steve runs his fingers through his hair and huffs, turning back to you, his features instantly soften. 

“I’m sorry about him.” 

You shake your head, your smile reappearing again, “it’s not your fault,” you shrug, “some people just never change.” 

“Yeah…” He mumbles, wondering if you changed at all, “did you?”

Did you change? You ask yourself. Maybe, surely college has shaped you in some way, being away from home, being independent and all alone, meeting new people and being pushed into situations you would have never allowed as a teenager, did change something in you. 

You got more confident, a little bolder too, you tried new things and did them without shame, something that was once impossible when you were still here and an insecure teen. 

You tilt your head to the side and give him a sly smirk, “why don’t you find out?” 

The anger Tommy left him with fades away, the flirtatious tone in your voice catching him by surprise and you take it even further when you take a step closer to him after placing your drink on the counter, you look up at him with your big eyes that still drive him crazy. 

He doesn’t remember you to be this flirty… this bold but he can’t complain, it makes the fluttering in his stomach feel so much more intense. 

Steve’s lips curl back into a smile, he blinks at you, looking into your eyes intensely, with want and need – nothing changed, if anything, the magnetic force between you has intensified, even when there was mostly only radio silence between you both in these past months. 

Steve licks his lips, a sliver of his confidence slipping back in when he sees the way you look at him, eyes roaming his face and his body. Though his cheeks are still burning and his heart is still racing, no matter how much confidence he can find within himself, you are still you, you are still the girl that holds his heart in the palm of her hand, the one who has him captivated in every way possible, the one who has had him wrapped around her finger, from a very young age. You aren’t just a girl to woo and impress for a single date, you aren’t someone he would forget if a conversation or a date went wrong, you are the one he always wanted to grow old with, to experience everything with, to spend a life with the one who is his everything – one wrong move and he loses it all… again. 

He doesn’t bother to ask if you are with someone, if you are dating and taken, the thought is disturbing to his heart. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asks as he slowly reaches for your hand and you allow him to take it when you slip your palm against his and give his hand a squeeze.

He nearly crumbles to his knees when he feels your soft touch again, it’s been too long. Your hand always fit into his so perfectly, like it was made to be held by him. 

You nod, whispering a sweet ‘yes, please’. That’s all he needs to hear before he pulls you closer to his body, pushing you in front of him slightly, keeping a protective stance right behind you as he never lets go of your hand, basking in the feeling of having you so close again, of being able to smell your perfume again and the sweet scent of your body wash. 

He rubs circles on the top of your hand, pressing his other hand on the small of your back as he pushes through the crowds of people. He leads you to Robin first, needing to make sure that she will get home safe without him. He finds her playing beer pong with Vickie and a few of their former bandmates from high school. He taps on her shoulder and when she turns around, Steve grows more nervous than before, because her eyes grow wide when she sees you next to him, excitement flashing in them and a big grin appearing on her face after a long moment of staring at you. 

She knows all about you. 

She knows all about his feelings and his regrets. 

She knows how much he missed you. 

She was there when he cried and never stopped talking about you. 

So after greeting you, probably a little too enthusiastically, she moves closer to Steve, raising her eyebrows at him and giving him a teasing, yet pointed look. 

“Go and don’t worry about me, Vickie can drive, she’s not drinking tonight.”

“You sure?” 

She nods, her waves bouncing as she moves her head a little too quickly. 

“Steve I’m fine, go and get your girl,” she winks at him, squeezing his shoulder before she moves back, giving him another look that says nothing but ‘i mean it, don’t fuck it up this time, this is your chance.’ 

Steve nods at her, smiling and feeling reassured by her. He holds your hand tighter and pulls you away before you can properly say goodbye to his friend that you only know from your days in high school. You look back at her to find her staring at the two of you, grinning from ear to ear, she raises her eyebrows at you, eyes glowing as she gives you a smirk and a small wave of her hand. 

You feel a little confused by the teasing look on her face but smile and wave back at her nonetheless before Steve whisks you away and out of the room.

It isn’t weird to hold each other’s hand, to be back together in his car like nothing ever happened, like you never stopped doing this, like things are still normal between you. He makes small talk, it’s not awkward or weird, it’s… nice, anything is as long as you’re with him, even the silly jokes makes or how he tries to quote Shakespeare but fails miserably, he makes you laugh and you… you make him smile. 

You stop by the gas station to grab a six pack and some snacks to share before you drive to the lookout, to the place you always went to when you wanted to be alone together. 

You get comfortable on the hood of his car, as comfortable as you can get on the rough surface. It’s a little chillier out here in the woods, the wind that blows through the trees makes goosebumps arise on your skin. Steve, of course, has to use the opportunity to throw his jacket around your shoulders, rubbing your arms to warm you up as he moves close enough for you to feel his breath on your skin. 

You feel something stir within you, something only ever he could make you feel. 

You grab the denim and pull it tighter around you, glancing at him through your lashes, you feel your cheeks heat up when you find him staring at you already, a soft smile playing on his lips that you can see, even in this darkness. 

“Thanks Stevie.” A grin tugs at your lips when his smile moves into a flustered one. 

Steve licks his lips, he removes his hands from your body and busies himself with opening the beer bottles for you and him, “you’re welcome, honey,” he whispers, winking at you. 

You look away from him with blushing cheeks, hiding the smile on your face as you tilt your head down but nothing goes unnoticed by him, he sees the flustered expression in your features, the cute smile you’re trying to hold back. 

He scoots closer to you until his shoulder is pressed against yours, he offers you the opened bottle. You glance at his hand, taking in the size of it, how big it is, how his veins pop, how long his fingers are – it makes you squirm and clench your thighs together and he notices it, he looks down and he almost regrets it, almost. Your skirt has ridden up, it nearly covers nothing, at this point. Your skin looks so smooth, thighs so soft, he wants to touch them, kiss them, feel them wrapped around his head. 

His skin heats up, his lower stomach tingles, he craves you, in every way possible, he just wants to… feel you, he wants to feel you close, he wants your skin on his, he needs to know that you are truly back. 

Your touch sends shivers down his spine, it makes his stomach flip. 

He blinks, looking down at the bottle he is still holding, watching the way your hand curls around it, fingers grazing his own. Your hand is so much smaller than his, the urge to compare the size of his own to yours growing strong. 

“Steve?” 

Your soft voice pulls him out of his thoughts, he blushes, cheeks burning maroon. He shakes his head a little, squeezing his eyes shut as he furrows his eyebrows, he removes his hand from your bottle, already missing the touch of your hand. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he runs his fingers through his hair, “I got a little uh… distracted.” 

He instantly regrets it when his eyes fall back on your lap again, your giggle makes him blush even deeper, he eyes you from the side, watching the way you press your lips against the bottle, you take a sip, trying to hide the smirk on your lips. 

He feels a sudden sense of nervousness rushing through him – here he is, in the presence of the girl of his dreams, the girl that slipped through his fingers, the girl that should be his and he is messing up. He begins to stutter, trying to distract himself once again, this time from your legs, from your soft skin, from how much he wants to touch and kiss you, from how beautiful you are but you make him stutter, you make it difficult for him to talk, you make it impossible for him to be smooth, to flirt with you the way he always did with other girls and suddenly, he is reminded of why he was always so scared of revealings his feelings to you, there was too much at stake, he didn’t want to lose you. 

He always felt so pathetic around you, like a stupid kid in love, one that can’t talk to his crush without blushing, without stuttering. 

And this is exactly what you always adored about him. 

But he doesn't know it, he doesn’t even realize it, he doesn’t even see the way your eyes always light up, the way they soften as you look at him, the way you admire him. 

Before he even takes a sip of his beer, he already feels like he is drunk, his skin is hot, his mind hazy, he feels happy, at ease, like he is floating, all because of you, you make him feel so… light. 

He is drunk on you, without having touched you properly, your presence is enough. 

He wonders how you are holding up, what emotions linger inside of you — you look so calm, relaxed. 

You fall into a comfortable conversation, catching up on the things you have missed in each other's lives, since being separated. And while your eyes stay glued on the night sky, only glancing at him every once in a while, he watches you, with a fluttering feeling in his chest and a smile on his lips. 

You laugh with each other, getting lost in the memories that you both start bringing up, joking and slapping each other’s shoulders softly as you start to tease one another about the stupid things that you both have done in the past. 

You have changed, not only physically did you get even more beautiful, you got something that you didn’t have before, a boldness that you always admired others for. You used to be so shy, anxious to ask the simplest questions, too nervous to hold eye contact for longer than two seconds, even with him, sometimes. But now, despite you choosing to look at the sky instead of him, he can tell that you are not that shy girl anymore, who was afraid to look into his eyes. You are confident, comfortable in your own skin, not afraid to be you, not afraid to gaze into his eyes when you tilt your head to look at him. 

He wonders what or… who caused it, the change in you. 

Was it just the circumstances? The big city that pushed you out of your comfort zone? 

New friends? Being on your own? Or… was it the experiences you have made in these past few months that have shaped you from an innocent, shy teenager into a confident, young woman? 

His stomach churns at the thought of the things you have done while being away from home, or better yet, who you have done them with. He has no right to be upset about it, he knows it, yet he can’t stop the sinking feeling inside of him as he thinks of the hands that have touched your body or the lips that kissed yours, if you had dated someone, if you are someone else’s right now. 

The question tumbles from his lips before he can even stop himself. 

“Do you have anyone?” 

The storm that was just raging in his mind, the string of questions that followed now silenced as he stares at you, waiting for your answer with a racing heart and clammy hands. 

The sound of crickets and the rustling of the trees are the only sounds now filling the space around you.

“You mean… a boyfriend?” 

He nods and you shake your head at that. You bring the bottle up to your lips, taking a much needed sip. 

“No, I don’t,” you murmur as your eyes roam his face, “why?”

You notice the frown on his face, the way his lips are curled down and his eyebrows are tightly scrunched together. 

“Just wondering… someone like you still single?” 

“What do you mean…?” You ask slowly.

Steve huffs, shaking his head with a smile on his face. 

“I mean… Come on, honey. You’re funny, you’re smart and you’re just… you’re amazing,” he sighs adoringly, hazel eyes running up down and your face and your body. “You’re beautiful, a fucking catch.”

You almost want to scoff at his words, you want to roll your eyes and look the other way. A catch, right. A catch he never wanted. Your heart betrays you when it flutters and prompts a girlish giggle to fall from your lips. 

“Stop.”

He nudges his shoulder against yours, grinning at your flustered face, “it’s the truth.”

Steve feels relieved to know that you don’t have anyone waiting on you, that there isn’t some guy out there that got the girl he always wanted. 

“You have to say that,” you shake your head and drink the last drop of your beer before you throw the bottle down on the grass, making a mental note to pick it up later. 

Because he is your best friend, because he was always your best friend, no matter what – so of course, he has to say these words to you. 

He rolls his eyes at you, huffing, “I’m not just saying that.” 

You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, the way his words can make you feel like that shy teenage girl again, you try to steer the attention away from you. 

You press your palm against the cold, almost icy hood, leaning back, you tilt your head to the side and gaze at him, loving how long his hair grew, how his features are more… manly now, though the boyish grin still lingers. 

“What about you?” You whisper, swallowing the bitterness on your tongue. “Got anybody, Stevie?”

He shakes his head quickly, almost frowning at your question. 

“Me? No… no one really… felt right.” He says with a look of longing in his eyes, the one that is only reserved for you. 

The tension in your chest disappears, almost instantly, you have an idea of what you would feel like had the answer been a different one. 

“I was seeing a girl… for a while but uh… like I said, it… she didn’t feel right,” he admits with a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

You nod, swallowing harshly. 

“Why didn’t she feel right?” You’re aware of how small, how shaky your voice sounds. 

You wait, wait and wait for him to answer your question, the answer he tries to find in your eyes as it seems because he won’t stop looking at you, it’s like he is searching for something, like he is trying to figure you out, like he is trying to make sense of the question you just asked. 

He doesn’t give you what you want, as always, Steve Harrington pretends like nothing happened, like nothing had been asked. 

But you know what he means, you know exactly what he means, you had someone too, back in Chicago. 

He was nice, he was good to you, in more ways than just one but no matter how much you tried not to think of him, you always failed. He was always there, always in the back of your mind, always ready to haunt you and remind you that he is and will always be the only one that your heart will belong to. 

Your relationship was only short lived, and you left him the moment you realized how unfair it was to stay with him when your heart was somewhere else, when you couldn’t stop thinking about Steve. 

Something rustles in the bushes, something echoes loudly through the woods, something that would have normally made you flinch, doesn’t even faze you now because he is here. You feel safe in his presence, you always did, not even the darkest night or the loudest storm could make you feel afraid as long as he was by your side. 

And yet, you scoot closer to him, not even noticing that you do until his fingers brush against yours and sparks shoot through your entire body. 

And through his. 

You clear your throat and take a deep breath, “yeah… I had someone… but he didn’t feel right either.” You say softly, vulnerably as you meet his eyes again. 

A soft ‘oh’ leaves his mouth and he nods, looking down at the bottle in his hand, he brings it up to his lips and downs the rest of it. He feels his stomach churning, his insides crawling at the mere thought of you with someone who isn’t him and it makes him feel awful, it makes him feel ridiculous because wasn’t that his own fault? He blew his chances with you. He let you go, hell, he didn’t even fight for you. 

He puts the bottle down, wipes his mouth and runs his fingers through his hair before he turns back to you to find you staring at him just the way you always did, with your big doe eyes, those pleading and begging looks you never stopped throwing at him. 

He’d have to be blind to not see it – he always did, he just never allowed himself to admit it, not even to himself, not even when you were all he ever wanted. 

“Why didn’t he feel right?” 

Steve watches the way your lips curl downwards, the way you squint your eyes at him, the softness fleeing as you glare at him instead.

And suddenly, the air around you feels different, tense for another reason, heavy and filled with something neither of you ever addressed before. 

While you take deep breaths, trying to calm yourself – Steve tries to mend the aching in his chest, the hammering that feels just too strong. 

“Why didn’t she feel right, huh?” You ask, scooting away from him and getting off the hood, placing your feet back on the ground, you don’t even bother to smooth down your skirt. You cross your arms over your chest and stand in front of him, demanding the answer you tried to ask softly before. 

Steve sighs, growing fearful and anxious, feeling like he is messing up yet again, like he is about to lose again. 

But you are close, so goddamn close, even through the anger in your eyes, you still stand in reach, your knees now brush against his. He straightens his back, fighting the urge to reach for your hands and just pull you into him, showing you why no one ever felt right. 

He promised Robin, he promised her that if you ever came back, he would go and get you, he would come clean about it all, he would make it all right again. 

“This goes both ways, Steve. You can’t just ask me and then–”

“Because no one is you.”

He won’t fail this again, no matter how scared he is, he just can’t. 

Your lips part in surprise, a painful look crosses your eyes, though the anger doesn’t fade away just yet. You uncross your arms, and shake your head at him. 

His words should bring you joy, shouldn’t they? 

But as you stand here before him, his knees brushing your own, his golden brown eyes staring at you with nothing but love, you can’t help but feel your heart aching because why now? Why not then? 

“So… it took me to leave town… go to college… for you to say this?” You whisper, holding back a choke as your eyes well up with unwanted tears. 

His own eyes panic when he sees just how much pain there is inside of you, how much you hid it. He reaches forward, taking your hand in his, he sighs in relief when you don’t push him away like he thought you would. 

“It was always there. Before our first kiss, before our first time, and then it never stopped. But you were… you were scary. Feeling love that strong at such a young age– it wasn’t in my plans. I was scared… I was scared of loving you and losing you. It happened before.” 

His parents. 

He loved them unconditionally, he loved them no matter what they did and didn’t do, he loved them and he lost them – they abandoned him and then they forgot about him. 

Your eyes show nothing but pain, your heart breaks, all over again, for him. 

And you’re stunned, so goddamn shocked because that word fell from his lips. Love. He loved you. 

You curl your hand around his, squeezing them tightly as he gets off his car, standing tall before you again. 

“You… still could have–”

“Risked it?” Steve interrupts you, furrowing his brows as he looks down at you. “No… I wasn’t going to risk it. Risk losing you…” He scoffs, shaking his head at himself, “now I see how stupid that was because I lost you anyways.” 

His eyes well up with tears, his voice almost cracks and you finally… finally get to see a glimpse into his heart, how much pain he was always hiding.

“No… I don’t think you lost me.”

“Honey, we haven’t talked in–”

“What you felt for me… Is it… Is it past tense?” 

Steve should see the hope in your eyes, he should hear it in your voice too, but he is so scared, so nervous at this moment. 

Everything he had always been afraid of was losing you because of his feelings and he can’t help but wonder, what if he confesses his love to you now and his saddest fear creeps in and he will lose you for good, forever? 

“Why do you want to know?” He asks, shakily. 

You hold his hands tighter, taking another step closer until you are chest to chest. You close your eyes for a moment and take a deep breath, you look up at him, begging with your eyes, yet again. “Because I deserve to know, Steve, do you still have feelings for me?”

He takes a long pause, feeling like his heart might explode, feeling like the ground might disappear beneath him if he doesn’t finally give you the whole truth. 

His eyes flicker down to your lips, the ones he craved to feel on his own for years, his body aches for you just the way his heart does, desire running deep but love taking full control, driving both his heart and his mind insane over you. He feels the pounding from his chest to his throat, his eyes glossy with tears he shed so many times over you, over his regrets. 

“Yes,” he whispers, already feeling his chest deflating as the pressure slowly sinks away, “like I said, they never stopped.”

Tears spill down yours and his cheeks, his shoulders slump in relief and you, you finally breathe. You sniffle and a giggle falls from your lips, one that makes him furrow his brows but smile because now he can see the happiness in your eyes, the joy from hearing this from him. 

“Oh, thank god,” you whisper and throw your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek against his chest, you hug him tightly, catching him off guard. 

It takes him a moment, it takes him a very long moment. 

His glassy eyes are wide, his heart is threatening to break free from his chest. He wanted this, he wanted you for so long, he feels like this is too good to be true but when he feels your tears seeping through his shirt and how you cling to his body, like you are afraid that he might disappear if you let go, he finally relaxes. His eyes close gently, tears spilling down his cheeks, he melts into your touch and curls his arms around you, cupping the back of your head, he holds you closely, tightly. 

“I missed you so much,” he whispers into your hair, pressing his lips to the top of your head, he gives a first kiss again. 

“I missed you, Stevie,” you murmur into his chest, holding onto his shirt. 

He moves even closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck as you rise to your tippy toes, wanting to feel more of him, as though he isn’t close enough already, not even when your chest to chest. 

Steve breathes in your scent, the one he used to sink his face into when it still lingered on his pillows, when he longed to feel you in his arms, when he craved you so badly but felt too cowardly to make the move he just made now. 

You cling to one another, like you never have before, not even when he held you during nights you needed him the most, when you were both so convinced that you were nothing more than friends… when just friendship was never something possible between you. 

Steve’s eyes are shut tightly, he is so lost in the feeling of you, feeling so warm, so safe, so loved in your embrace. 

How can his heart race so fast yet feel so… calm? 

You don’t know how much time passes as you stand there in each other’s arms, you are so lost in the moment, you couldn’t care less about anything around you, about the time, about your surroundings, about the world – only you and him matter, nothing more. 

He cups the side of your face when you begin to pull away to look at one another, glossy eyes gazing into each other, lips begging to be connected. His fingers brush through your hair, he tucks your front pieces behind your ears and caresses your cheeks. His hazel eyes flash with adoration. You are so beautiful. It makes his heart clench in his chest.  

You slide your hands up his chest, moving up to his neck and cupping his cheeks, your stomach growing with anticipation the closer you both move to each other. 

No words are spoken, there is no need for them, your eyes tell everything, just like your touch when your lips finally connect. 

Your hearts stop beating, time stops ticking, the world stops moving. 

Everything around you stops. 

Just absolutely everything. 

Your eyes flutter shut, just like his. 

A kiss you both never stopped craving finally happening, not only in your minds, but in reality. 

Steve sighs in contentment, a whimper following close behind, your lips move slowly, softly with each other, you savor each and every second, even when you know that this is only the beginning of it all. 

Nothing and no one could ever compare to this, no one could ever come between you, you are two puzzle pieces, ones that were made for only each other, no one else to match you both. It’s only you and him. Your hearts know, you know, he knows. 

The way he kisses you so gently, so sensually, makes your stomach flip in ways it never did before, not even back then when you shared first and second kisses. 

And Steve, he feels like he is in a dream that he never wants to wake from again, he is too scared to open his eyes and find himself in his lonely bed, surrounded by the scent of you that he only imagines, that forever lingers like a kiss upon his skin. 

But your whimper is real, your lips are real, you are real, your lips taste just like they did before, sweet and peachy, like home. 

You only pull away to catch your breath, smiling when Steve chases your lips with his own, nuzzling his nose against yours as a soft giggle falls from his puffy lips, “god… I missed you, princess.” He murmurs against your lips, knowing that he will keep repeating these words, over and over again, he feels like he has been blessed by the universe. 

Your best friend’s eyes shine so brightly, the love in them that you always craved to see, is so evident, it’s all out in the open now, all in reach, all there for the taking – when not even a few hours ago, you didn’t even know where he was, if he still thought of you, if he still cared for you… 

Tears escape your eyes and he wastes not second to catch them, to wipe them away and kiss your wet cheek. 

“Please don’t cry,” he whispers, feeling like his heart might break, knowing that you have suffered just the way he did, when he thought that you moved on, that you had forgotten all about him just like everyone else did when that was never even the case, when all you did was long for him, love him, even from afar. 

“I love you,” he whispers in relief, feeling like the weight of the world is off his shoulders, “I love you so fucking much, you’re my–”

You cup his cheeks and pull him down once again, kissing him deeply. “You.” Kiss. “Don’t.” Kiss. “Know.” Kiss. “How.” Kiss. “Much.” Kiss. “I.” Kiss. “Dreamed.” Kiss. “Of.” Kiss. “This.” Kiss. “Moment.” 

Steve's heart flutters the way it never did before, butterflies go wild in his stomach, his eyes crinkle and he smiles so brightly, his cheeks hurt. 

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips, “I love you so much, Steve Harrington, you have no idea how much–”

His lips are on yours, pressed against them so strongly as he pulls you into another deep, passionate kiss before you can even finish your sentence. He kisses you in a way no one ever did before. 

His thumbs linger on your cheekbones, his tongue parts your lips so effortlessly, your own clashing against his as the softness of your feelings disappears and transforms into something needy, hungry. This kiss is much faster, much rougher, much more passionate than the first, you get lost in it so quickly. 

When he takes a step back and he sits back down on the hood of his car, he moves his hands down to your waist, pulling you in between his legs. 

Your arms move around his shoulders, your hands get lost in his hair, fingers gripping it tightly as moans escape you. The kiss makes you feel so hot, your stomach burns, your skin feels like it’s on fire as his hands move up and down your back, slipping underneath his jacket that is still around your shoulders, under your shirt and then, he touches your soft skin with his cold hand, something that makes you shiver yet lean closer against him. 

He moans against your lips, he is so intoxicated by you, needing more and more, like you’re his own personal drug. He could keep doing this, he could take you right here, right now. He could taste you, unravel you with his tongue, with his fingers, he could hold your hands and make love to you like he always wanted to, like he hoped he’d get to tonight – because he thought that this might be all he would get, a night with you, only that and no more, because how could you ever want anything more than this with him after all the times he messed up with you? After he let you slip through his fingers like it was nothing?

But this won’t stay a single night, this won’t be one that will haunt him for the rest of his life. 

This will turn into more, so much more. 

He doesn’t want to mess it up again, he wants to take it slow, he wants to give you everything you deserve, everything he craved to give you, all these years, everything he dreamed about, during the day and the night. 

So as much as he wants this, you, your bare skin on his and your whimpers blessing his ears, you deserve more, you deserve to be taken on a date first. 

“Hang on,” he whispers against your lips, cupping your cheeks again, his lips curl into an amused smile when he opens his eyes to see your smudged lipstick that is no doubt on his face now too, your hair a mess just like his own, “I want to… fuck… I want you so bad, I couldn’t stop thinking about this, about you. But I want to take it slow, I-I want to do it right this time, I want to take you on a date and–”

You cut him off with a kiss, once more. Pressing your lips against his plush ones, over and over again until it makes you both giggle. He grabs your waist and pulls you down on his lap, grabbing your cheeks, he presses his forehead to yours.

“Slow is good,” you whisper, caressing his cheek as his fingers run up and down your spine underneath the denim jacket. “I like slow.”

“Yeah?” He smiles.

You nod, though an almost sad smile makes its way on your lips, “you know, I kinda thought you forgot about me until all of this.” You wave your hand around, wiping at your wet cheek as a soft laugh tumbles from your lips. 

You weren’t the only one who stopped calling, who stopped sending letters, he did too, but not for the reasons you thought, clearly. 

A deep frown appears on his face, he tightens his hold on you, raising his hand up towards your face, he cups your cheek. Despite everything he just said, despite the kiss, you still don’t understand just how deep his feelings for you are, how his heart isn’t even his own because it is completely, devotedly yours. 

“I could never forget you,” he whispers with a sad smile on his face, “you’re all I ever think about, now and then, even when we were kids, even when I was… King Steve,” he rolls his eyes at the nickname he used to be so proud of. “You never once left my mind, not once.” 

The smile that makes his way to your lips makes his heart skip a beat, he kisses your cheek, letting his lips linger for a moment. 

“So please, let me make it right, let me fix everything… go on a date with me?” He asks with nothing but hope in giddiness in his voice. 

You squint your eyes and tilt your head, giving him a teasing smile as you pretend to think but his soft eyes make your teasing an impossible task at this moment, you wipe the lipstick off his mouth and nuzzle your nose back against his. 

“I would love to go on a date with you, Stevie,” you whisper, feeling your heart burst from joy and love. 

The one thing you always wanted, you always craved now finally happening, at a moment when you least expected it. 

Coming back home made you so nervous, knowing that you would see him again after all this time of being apart, knowing that your feelings will only continue to grow, no matter the tie between you, filled you with a sense of… dread, because you couldn’t help but wonder – does he even want to see you? 

But, to find out that he had spent every passing moment, thinking about you, about your past, wanting you back and willing you to come running back into his arms lights up everything inside you again – flames you have tried to put out, burning stronger than ever. 

Steve’s eyes well up with tears of joy again, he cups the back of your neck, his lips brush against yours, he can’t even describe his feelings with words, so he doesn’t even try, but he shows you the happiness you brought back into his life, the happiness that was just gone when you were… gone. He kisses you, once, twice… He keeps kissing you, over and over again, unable to stop himself from going back in for more, consumed by love, by gratitude and happiness to know that you came back. 

To know that you won’t haunt his what if’s. 

He won’t chase your shadows wherever he will go. 

Your scent won’t linger from just his memory alone. 

He waited and waited, and he let the lamp burn and now… now you are here, you came back, you came back to him. 

Here, at the lookout where you used to sit on your saddest days, you find your way back to one another again. 

As you embrace the future written for you, you know that the rings on your fingers won't only be imaginary ones like the ones from your childhood. 

[lowkeyren]

BUT YOU BELONG TO ME!

in which — some jealousy headcanons / scenarios for our favourite luofu men!

featuring — dan heng, blade, jing yuan (separately) x gn!reader

wc: total 1.8k, from req: here!, they're so silly goodbye, march + fu xuan cameo ;) reblogs w comments are appreciated, please enjoy!!!

#DAN HENG

look me in the eyes and tell me dan heng wouldn’t be the “i'm jealous, but i don’t wanna show it” (but it’s so PAINFULLY obvious that he’s jealous) type, you can’t.

definitely amusing to watch him play it cool, cus he has nothing else going on in his brain when you’re within 10 metre radius from him. 

honestly it would have to be quite specific situations if he ever gets jealous because he likes to keep you close by his side as often as possible. dating or not, he would have some sort of protective instinct —always making sure you’re secure and cared for. (and yes of course march teases him for it, he never admits it though.)

dan heng tries to focus on the book in his hands, but his mind refuses to make any sense of the words on the page —at least not when you’re standing so close to boothill. (too close for his liking anyway)

the cyborg sits at the opposite end of the couch where dan heng was, while you deftly adjust a compartment of his, engaging in small talk as he makes lighthearted jokes with you. dan heng hears your laughter ring out; the laughter that he adores so dearly, the laughter that never fails to warm his chest, and the laughter he wishes he was the reason for instead.

his eyes flicker up from the page to sneak a glance at you, the way your hands glide over boothill's body churns an ugly feeling, twisting in his chest. he shifts in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the unease remains.

his focus on you is suddenly shattered by a loud voice that belongs to no other than march, "dan heng, if you grip that book any harder, you might tear off a page." she stands in front of him, hands on her waist. 

“the way i am holding my book is perfectly fine, now if you will, i must get back to re—”

“oh c’mon! we all know your ass is not actually reading that book!” he raises an eyebrow, and march only rolls her eyes in response. “it’s literally upside-down.” she teases, unable to hold back a chuckle. 

dan heng glances down at the book in his hands, finally noticing the upside-down text, to which he quickly closes the book and puts it down. "maybe i was just testing your observational skills.”

march shakes her head, "yeah right… just admit you’re too busy staring at them!”

“no i’m n—” he begins to protest but is interrupted when you suddenly appear in front of him. “staring at who?” you tilt your head curiously, and he can only hope that you don’t hear the loud thumping of his heart. 

march giggles as she runs off to who-knows-where, he silently curses her for leaving him in this predicament. he manages to regain his composure, though his cheeks retain a faint pink hue. “ahem, anyway…” he trails off when you sit down next to him, your thighs brushing against each other.

alright you can’t keep doing this to him. he’s not a cyborg but it certainly seems like he’s malfunctioning at that moment. (though he doesn't mind if you have to “repair” him next; he considers it far preferable to having your hands on boothill anyway.)

#BLADE

this guy REEKS of jealousy. 

he gets jealous over anything —saying “good night!” to an acquaintance? well unfortunately, i don’t think they’re going to be having a very good night; a friendly smile from a passerby? the sudden chill in the air accompanied by his sharp glare is enough to make them rethink their life decisions. 

and the worst part? he knows it. he's aware of how irrational his jealousy can be, but that doesn't stop the surge of possessiveness that washes over him.

(deep down, he just wants to feel secure in your attention and affection, but it’s true that his jealousy sometimes gets the better of him.) 

blade’s “things to get rid of” list exponentially grows with each passing day, ranging from general items he sees no use of, to addresses of people who have wronged you in the past. 

but there’s one item on the list that stands out from the rest, the one item he can’t seem to bring himself to get rid of, no matter how hard he tries.

37. “blade plushie”

okay but what kind of website is “stellaron hunters fan merch for sell.com” anyway? since when do they have a fanbase, and why did you have to buy a plushie of him, of all things? 

he shoots daggers at the plushie sitting on your bed, on his side of your bed. while he can't always be by your side, surely there's no need for an inferior replacement?

blade sits down beside you, discreetly moving the plushie out of the way. just as you turn to reach for it, he wraps his arm around you and snuggles up to your side; you immediately pause at his affectionate gesture; his hair brushes against your neck as he buries his face into it.

“blade.. what are you doing?” you turn your attention to him, much to his delight. 

“why not spend more time with the real deal instead of… that.” he tightens his grip around you, at this point he isn’t even trying to hide his jealousy (over a plushie lmao) anymore. 

"you mean mr. edgelord...?" you barely manage to stifle your laughter as blade shoots up beside you. doesn’t hurt to tease him for a bit, right?

“what did you say… “edgelord”?” he scoffs, his face twisting into a scowl. he can’t believe you gave that thing a nickname, how ridiculous. he makes a mental note to get rid of it asap. 

“yeah, what about it? jealous that he’s better than you?” you smirk, leaning in close to his face. perhaps you’re enjoying his expression of pure bitterness a little too much, who knew such a handsome face could look so hilariously indignant? 

his eyes twinkle in amusement, before closing in the distance. “hah, never.” his tone tinged with a touch of possessiveness that he can't quite hide.

“really? you seem like you’re about to kill it.” you wrap your arms around his neck, his expression softens for just a split second, but you’re able to catch it anyway. “would you please spare mr. edgelord if i give you a kiss?”

he doesn’t respond with words; he presses his lips against yours, gently cradling the back of your head. (you quickly turn mr. edgelord to face the wall before blade pulls you away)

maybe he’ll spare “it” for another day or so, just don’t let him catch you hugging “it” in your sleep again, alas you want “it” to suffer the same fate as the others on his list.

#JING YUAN

hmm our beloved general… well he trusts you, and believes that you won’t do anything rash; but on the other hand there are just some things that neither of you can control, whether it’s letters sent in to ask for his hand in marriage or admires trying to sweep you off your feet (before he can). 

though not many people would approach you once your relationship goes public, given that he’s the general and all. but imagine him before the two of you became official, clinging to you to fend off your admirers, and the expression on their faces when you shake your head, denying that you’re dating at all. 

“as for the situation at cloudford— general, are you even listening?” fu xuan furrows her brows, and crosses her arms, clearly annoyed. “ah my apologies lady fu, please keep going.” jing yuan only flashes a half-hearted smile at her before glancing over to your direction again.

you feel a pair of eyes boring into your back, undoubtedly jing yuan’s; but you pay it no mind, choosing to focus on the discussion at hand. his grip on his teacup tightens when he sees the foxian talking to you leans closer to catch your words. fu xuan raises an eyebrow in concern, unaware but still sensing the rising tension; his eyes visibly twitch the moment their hand brushes against yours.

“lady fu, let’s reschedule our meeting for another time. i believe i have some… important matters to attend to.” jing yuan rises up from his seat before fu xuan can reply, swiftly making his way towards you.

you’re startled by the sudden feeling of jing yuan’s arms around you, his chest pressing against your back, as he places his chin against your head. “sorry to interrupt, what’re you two discussing about?” the foxian is taken aback by the general's sudden appearance, and especially by your current position with him. 

“n-nothing general!” the foxian seems to hesitate before continuing, “if it isn’t rude to ask, are the two of you…in a relationship?” jing yuan’s face lights up with his usual lazy smile, but this time it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

your eyes widen in surprise as he presses his lips against your nape, you shiver at his touch, a rush of warmth spreads across your cheeks. you should deny it, to say that you're not in a relationship at all, but you can't bring yourself to. instead, you divert your gaze from the foxian, hoping to spare yourself any further embarrassment.

“go on, tell them.” he whispers lowly so that only you can hear him. this bastard, you’re going to give him a stern talking to after this..! “sorry to cut this short, please excuse us.” you give a polite nod before pulling the general away.

two days later, as you’re walking along the streets of central starskiff haven, you come across a group of people gathered around a stall. curious, you head over to check out what’s happening. —you’re absolutely mortified to discover stacks of articles detailing recent events of you and jing yuan.

“breaking news! the general is secretly married?!” / “the truth behind general jing yuan’s relationship status” / “rumours confirmed: a detailed guide to the general of luofu’s relationship saga”

well at least the pictures of you and jing yuan got your good side… and your bad side, and your “i definitely did not sign up for this” side. and oh look, there’s one of you dragging jing yuan by his ponytail too, how wonderful, you’re definitely purchasing that one. 

but yeah no, you’re not beating the allegations after this. 

masterlist

[angelfic]

— THE WAY I LOVED YOU

pairing: theodore nott x reader

summary: in which theodore nott will do anything to get you to go out with him, but you’re just as stubborn rejecting him

warnings: swearing, kissing, dangerous stunts and theo being stupid (ryan gosling in the notebook style), unedited since i wrote this in the middle of the night on no sleep again lol. enemies to lovers if you squint a bit

author’s note: since everyone loves theo i’ll pretend this isn’t just for my own selfish needs <3 (especially the notebook reference) also surprise surprise mc is a gryffindor as always, you’d never know i was a slytherin my bad guys… as always let me know what u think! enjoy, angels 💌

The first time Theodore Nott asks you out, you spill a pot of ink directly into his lap.

It’s not like you meant to do it. But when there’s a Transfiguration worksheet to be getting on with, the Slytherin boy seated next to you by Professor McGonagall asking you out would surely take anyone by surprise.

The second you twist in your seat to look at him in shock, your arm slides the pot right off the desk and directly onto his grey trousers, instantly staining them with the black liquid before you have a chance to speak.

Your hands fly to your mouth to stifle your gasp and you look up at him, anticipating an angry glare in return. Instead, he looks mildly surprised at the ever-growing stain on his crotch, but mostly… amused?

“A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed, darling,” he says, raising an eyebrow and suppressing a smile.

You begin stuttering out an apology and scrambling for your wand to wave away the stain before you can do something stupid like attempting to rub it off with your sleeve. Your cheeks instantly heat up at the humiliating image now plaguing your mind and you barely contain a sigh of relief when you realise the lesson has finished.

It’s a miracle your shoes haven’t left scuff marks on the ground in a cartoonish trail with the speed at which you leave the classroom. Godric knows why Theo Nott of all people wants to ask you out, but since it can’t possibly be for any good reason, you’d rather not think about it too much. This, however, isn’t helped by Hermione pestering you about why you look so flustered for the entire walk to the Charms classroom.

Twenty minutes later, her attention is finally diverted. On the other hand, it’s because she’s berating you for accidentally burning the end of her left eyebrow off with a charm gone wrong.

The second time Theo asks you out, there are thankfully no ink pots around.

“Hey,” he whispers from behind you, making you jump within an inch of your life despite his low volume. You swivel in your chair to glare at him, incredulous. Seeing that he’s startled you, Theo grins. “Sorry. What are you doing?”

“Baking a cake,” you deadpan, once your heart has started beating at a normal pace again. Holding up your Potions book, you feel the annoyance start to seep in when Theo continues looking at you, undeterred. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Apparently unfazed by your sarcasm, he drags out the chair next to you and spins it around to sit on it backwards. Settling his arms on top of the backrest, Theo rests his chin on them to look at you. “You never did answer my question.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, eyes scanning the page in front of you but taking in nothing. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to study-”

“Are you going to make me ask you again?” he sighs. You panic a little at his bluntness and continue pretending to read, not knowing what else to do. Theo takes your silence as encouragement and shuffles his chair closer to your own. “Go out with me.”

The arrogance practically drips off his voice, and the pit of anxiety in your stomach immediately turns into irritation instead. “No,” you grit out, slamming your potions book shut to scowl at him. “And I don’t hear you asking anything.”

“Okay,” Theo says slowly, nodding as though he understands. It’s clear that he doesn’t though, because the next words out of his mouth have you stunned. “Please, oh please, will you do me the absolute greatest honour of going out with me?”

”Merlin,” you exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. Dropping your hands into your lap, you see no solution other than gathering your things to return to the common room. “You’re having me on…”

“I can assure you, I’m not,” Theo says quickly, stopping you from leaving by gently grabbing your elbow. You stop in your movements to catch him looking more unsure than you’ve ever seen, and you’ve never been more perplexed. “I’m completely serious right now. Go out with me?”

“Wh- I don’t even-” you sigh, cutting your senseless muttering off to cross your arms over your textbook. “Whatever happened to a simple ‘no’ sufficing, darling? Aren’t there a million other girls for you to go and pester? Godric knows you’ve got an entourage following you half the- What are you looking at?”

Amazingly, Theo’s expression has lost all trace of vulnerability and now displays a slightly faraway look, his signature lazy grin in full effect. “Sorry, I didn’t hear a word after you called me ‘darling’.”

Resisting the urge to hit him over the head with your textbook, you take a deep breath and grasp the potential weapon tighter in your hands before speaking. “As hard as it is for me to believe that girls actually fall for this rubbish, your history with them shows that they do. Don’t think for a second, I’m going to let you use me like they do.”

Theo considers your words for a few seconds, mulling them over as carefully as though he’s trying to solve a brain teaser. Eventually, he seems to come to a satisfying conclusion, because he tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers and tilts his head. “So you need me to prove I’m serious about this… and then you’ll say yes?”

“Oh, for the love of-” Huffing, you turn on your heal without saying another word and storm out of the library. Theo doesn’t follow you, allowing you to clear your head and think about the incredibly odd interaction.

You’re climbing through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room when you realise you never actually refuted Theo and his theory to make you go out with him. Whether or not it was on purpose, you can’t quite decide.

Over the next few weeks, you start wishing you had stopped Theo before he could start trying to prove himself to you.

You can’t go a single day without the question of going out with him popping up. Much to your bewilderment, it isn’t always him asking. Sometimes it’s his friends, sometimes it’s students at the Gryffindor table who are sick of the multiple owls every morning flocking to your table with a note in their beaks. Sometimes it’s even your friends.

“I mean, really,” Hermione says at breakfast, huffy as always when reprimanding someone. “It’d be benefiting everyone if you just went out with him. Why don’t you, anyway?”

“He’s a Slytherin,” Ron butts in, talking to Hermione as though he’s explaining something to a child. He takes a gigantic bite of his toast before speaking, his next words coming out muffled. “Surely that’s reason enough.”

“No, that isn’t reason enough,” Hermione says sternly, furrowing her brows. “A good reason would have been all the girls he’s always with. Of course, that’s flown out the window recently. He’s also never given them as much attention now that I think about it.”

“He’s definitely not the worst of the group either,” Harry adds, leaning in as nosily as Ron. “Not like we’re talking about Malfoy…”

“Don’t you two have Quidditch tactics to be discussing?” you snap, exhausted by the subject already. The two boys hold up their hands in surrender, before shuffling down the bench. Whether that’s to be closer to the Quidditch team, or to get away from you before you start throwing hexes - you aren’t certain.

The fact you’re awake early in the morning on a Saturday isn’t helping your sour mood, and the Quidditch match being between Gryffindor and Slytherin only adds to this.

“We’d better go and get a good seat at the front, so we aren’t on our tiptoes for the whole game like last time,” Hermione says, already sliding off the bench. You give your cup of coffee one last longing look before you allow yourself to be dragged away.

You haven’t even made it onto the Quidditch pitch before you’re already wishing for that cup of coffee to give you strength, because you find none other than Theo standing outside the Great Hall in his green and silver Quidditch robes.

As soon as he spots you, Theo plasters on that charming smile of his and opens his mouth, no doubt to ask you if you could talk privately.

Hermione interjects before he gets the chance. “Don’t bother, I’m leaving.” She simply sighs when you look at her, betrayed. “He’d have convinced you anyway! I’ll save you a seat.”

You watch her leave, helplessly before turning to Theo and crossing your arms. “Yes?”

“I have a proposition for you,” he says simply, getting to the point. The proposition has, without a doubt, got something to do with you and him and a trip to Hogsmeade, but you gesture for him to continue nonetheless. You can’t deny it’s been entertaining watching Theo come up with new ways to ask you out these past few weeks. “I’ll throw the match and let your lot win if you go out with me.”

This startles a laugh out of you, something between a chortle and a gasp. “Oh, you cheeky bastard,” you exclaim, but you can’t help grinning. That was quite possibly the last thing you expected him to say. “First of all, I think my lot is perfectly capable of winning on their own. And secondly… as funny as it would be, I’d rather not have your death and Malfoy’s subsequent imprisonment in Azkaban be on my conscience.”

You only realise just how wide your smile is when it starts to fade under Theo’s unwavering gaze. His lips twitch up into a smile and you immediately frown as an automatic response. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re bantering with me,” Theo says, grinning as though he’s extremely pleased with himself. You realise with a jolt, that yes you were bantering. “One step closer to agreeing to go out with me.”

“That’s not happening,” you protest, but it sounds fairly weak, even to you. “Like I keep telling you, I’m not going to be one of those girls.”

Theo shrugs. “And I think you already know you’re not one of those girls. It’s fine, I can wait.”

The relaxed manner in which he says this has you flabbergasted to say the least. Truthfully, you aren’t completely sure why you haven’t just agreed at this point. No one in the whole school is used to witnessing such extravagant displays from Theodore Nott, so you’ve accepted the fact you’re an outlier in this particular subject area. You’re starting to think Hermione’s right, and it’s pure stubbornness that’s keeping you going.

“You’ll be waiting a long time then,” you say, giving Theo a bland smile.

“Nah,” is all he says, the smile still gracing his unperturbed face. “Keep an eye out for me in the Quidditch stands.”

Theo winks at you before walking away in the direction of the pitch and you linger in the castle for a good few minutes before snapping out of it and walking in the same direction.

You find Hermione quickly at the front of the Gryffindor stand and you’re about to ask how long until the game starts when Lee Jordan’s voice begins to boom from the commentator stand.

“Strong start for Gryffindor with Katie Bell taking the Quaffle and- nope, Vaisey’s taken it and passed it onto Urquhart, his fellow Chaser and the new Slytherin captain.” You’re thankful for Lee’s commentary as it’s easy to follow and you probably wouldn’t have a clue if it weren’t for him. Surprisingly, he keeps it professional enough for a while. “Ginny Weasley tries to take the Quaffle after a near hit there to Urquhart, thanks to new Gryffindor Beater Jimmy Peakes and that very solid Bludger over there. Unfortunately, he missed-”

“JORDAN.”

“Sorry, Professor McGonagall, I meant fortunately. Slytherin Chaser Mattheo Riddle now has the Quaffle and seems to be aiming to score and- oops! He’s missed, thanks to Gryffindor Keeper Ron Weasley. Good on you, Weasley,” Lee says, unable to be impartial as shown by McGonagall’s glare. “As for the Slytherin Keeper, Nott seems to be distracted by something in the Gryffindor stands. Or should I say someone.”

Laughter echoes in every stand, much to your utter humiliation and some people even start whooping and cheering in your direction. Theo’s antics are common knowledge at this point, but it doesn’t make the laughter any less embarrassing. You try and maintain a shred of dignity by standing still and glaring as hard as you can at Theo. Horrifyingly, he starts to fly in your direction.

Lee looks at McGonagall before speaking, but she merely shrugs helplessly, looking flustered herself. “Er, well it seems Slytherin are open for Gryffindor to score. No one seems to be taking advantage, however, as I think I can speak for everyone when I say we want to know what’s going on with Nott and Y/N.”

Glancing at the others, you realise Lee is right and all the players are hovering in place, making no move to continue the game. They look partly confused, but mostly nosy.

Theo stops just outside the Gryffindor stand, his attention focused wholly on you. You raise both eyebrows in question, waiting for him to speak. “Go out with me.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t quite hear what Nott is saying, but I think we can all guess he’s asking her out again,” Lee says, causing a few more cheers and even a couple groans. “Take the hint, mate.”

“Theo, get back to the game!” you hiss, wrapping your arms around you as if it’ll shield you from everyone’s eyes. “You’re embarrassing m- What the fuck are you doing!”

Theo swings a leg over the side of his broomstick so that he’s sitting completely facing you, legs dangling dangerously off one side. Lee sits up a little in his booth and McGonagall looks positively horrified. “For unknown reasons, Nott is balancing precariously in a position no Quidditch player wants to- Merlin, he’s hanging off his broomstick!”

Everyone in the crowd screams and shouts when Theo slips off his broomstick, but they quieten down and watch with fright when they see he’s still holding on with both hands. You think you’re going to faint.

“Theo,” you plead, with the same voice you’d use to coax a bloody kitten out of a tree. “Get back on your broomstick. Please.”

“Only if you go out with me,” Theo says, eyes determined despite breathing a little heavier. The broomstick is thin and despite his strength, it’d be hard for anyone to maintain a grip for long. “Say you’ll go out with me and I’ll get back on.”

“Just say it!” Hermione grabs you by the shoulder to shake you.

Professor McGonagall seems to have shaken out of her previous daze and begins scrambling around for her wand while Lee narrows his eyes to better assess the situation. “Godric, Y/N. Just say ‘yes’ and end everyone’s misery already.”

“But…” you trail off, hands shaking as you keep your eyes on Theo’s white knuckles still gripping the broom. “I don’t want to encourage this stupid behaviour.”

Theo rolls his eyes as though he can’t believe you’re still objecting. He shakes his head at you, though his chest is shaking with laughter. “Go out with me, and I swear I’ll never do anything stupid again. Fucking hell, I’ll quit Quidditch altogether if you want.”

You open your mouth to say something, you’re not sure what, but before you can get a word out, Seamus Finnigan pipes up from beside you. “Personally, I say let him fall off the bloody thing.”

Tutting, you turn to Theo just to find the idiot raising an eyebrow challengingly. His left hand begins to loosen on the broomstick, deliberately.

“Theo, don’t you dare.”

He drops his left hand completely and you scream, the noise drowned out by everyone else’s yells.

“OKAY!” you yelp, heart in throat as you watch Theo dangling from his broomstick with one hand, clearly struggling. “Okay, I’ll go out with you, you stubborn idiot!”

The Gryffindors that hear you, begin to cheer, setting off the other houses and once McGonagall sees Theo begin to pull himself up on his broomstick, she visibly relaxes, slumping in her seat as she clutches her chest. Lee soon gets the message. “Finally, after a good month of watching Nott pine pathetically, Y/N has agreed to go out with the poor bast- Er, beggar. Sorry, Professor. By the way Nott, you’ve got detention for a week.”

Now sitting normally on his broomstick, Theo grins at you like the cheeky bastard that he is, with elation clear as day on his face. You struggle to fight off your own grin and you can tell by his expression you’re not doing a very good job at it. “Pull something like that again and I’ll push you off your broomstick myself,” you warn him, though it lacks any real threat. You were more worried than angry, and it definitely shows. “Okay?”

“No more stupid behaviour,” Theo promises, sounding sincere as he nods, messy hair falling into his eyes. The wind blows it out of the way almost immediately and you find yourself wanting to do it with your fingers. “After this, though.”

You furrow your brows as Theo flies close enough to the Gryffindor stand to get off his broomstick and hop right into the crowd, landing next to you. Broomstick in hand, Theo doesn’t take his eyes off you when he holds it out to Hermione. “If you don’t mind, Granger.”

Clearly baffled, Hermione gingerly takes the broomstick from him and watches the two of you, as enraptured as the rest of the school.

You face Theo properly, looking up at his eyes to see them glittering with pride and achievement. You tilt your head in question, wondering why he hasn’t yet returned to the game.

Theo answers you by gripping your waist to pull you into a stupidly dramatic, dizzying, wonderful kiss. His lips are soft against your own and cold from the wind, but the shiver that runs down your spine has nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the way Theo is pressed against you.

You could go on forever, but the cheers and claps and hollering around you remind you that you’re surrounded by all your peers and, Godric, your teachers.

Pulling away, you clear your throat and attempt to gain back some of your dignity by keeping a serious face. Theo attempts nothing of the sort as he’s still wearing a silly grin. You try and avoid his eyes for the sake of your nerves and you mutter the first thing that comes to mind. “Erm, good luck then. I hope you win.”

This is the wrong thing to say surrounded by your fellow Gryffindors as a few of them boo at you.

Theo rolls his eyes at the dramatics, while you simply scowl, pointedly at Seamus who seems to have boo’ed the loudest. Hermione is beaming at you when she hands Theo back his broomstick, though she also gives a little frown directed at Seamus.

Getting back on his broomstick, Theo hovers near you outside the stand. You lower your voice to a whisper that only he can hear. “I still hope you win.”

Theo shrugs, looking more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him during a Quidditch game. “I’ve already won, darling.”

© angelfic 2023.