#you also start to just feel like you’re not…here? after a while? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aureatelys · 14 hours ago

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nobody does it like you do

pairing: dbf!aaron hotchner/fem!reader rating: explicit w.c.: 10k.... a/n: dbf!hotch party ended months ago but im still here

summary:

You don't mean to start something with your dad's best friend during your summer break.

c.w.: 18+ MDNI PLSSSS, dbf!hotch yippee, no y/n, reader is mid-20s and hotch is mid 40s, reader is kind of a brat and also very sexual and forward :), car sex, handjobs in car, v fingering, dom/sub, dirty talk, light degradation kink, size kink if u squint, light choking at the end!, unprotected sex, tbh some plot to mostly porn

read below or on ao3 here <3

You’re nearly half-naked when you first meet him.

It was the first morning back at home during your summer break in your first year of your Master’s program. You hadn’t been home in several months, blaming your rigorous coursework and the full-time job you had, but luckily you were able to use nearly a month’s worth of PTO to coincide with your summer off.

You had gotten in late after flying across the country, but your body still woke up like clockwork just before 9 am.

Currently, as you make eye contact with the tallest and most attractive man you have ever met while wearing a tank top and shorts that barely covered your ass, you couldn’t tell if that was a blessing or a curse.

You had heard your dad rave about what basically sounded like a crush he had over the phone for nearly a year. Aaron Hotchner apparently works with your father at the FBI, albeit in a different department, and they hit it off at a recent gala by discussing golf, expensive scotch, and being annoyed about the latest budget cuts. One Saturday at the country club’s golf course later, your father was hooked, and Aaron has been over at the house nearly every weekend since.

You remember your dad saying something about how he’s hardworking, better than he is at golf, and much nicer than he looks. He didn’t say anything about how hot he was.

You were stumbling out your bedroom and rubbing at your eyes when you had nearly run into him on the way to the bathroom. You’re still waking up, but you see the genuine surprise and something like want on his face before it’s gone, a neutral expression taking over his handsome features. The clench in his jaw betrays him.

“Excuse me,” he says. His voice is low, deep in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “I was just heading into the restroom.”

You blink at him, your mind still not having not caught up yet. “Uhm.”

“I can just go to the one downstairs,” he says, giving you an easy smile. It makes him look even more devastatingly attractive and you feel dazed. With that, he turns on his heel and makes his way back downstairs without another word.

You distantly hear your father downstairs calling your name and asking if you’re awake. You feel rooted to the spot, flustered.

You try your best to go through your normal bathroom routine, but your heart still hasn’t calmed down yet. It’s been a while since you’ve dated and even longer since you’ve slept with someone, thus you’ve had a lot of quality time with yourself recently, so seeing the way this older man reacted to you was enough to have you preening a bit. You weren’t imagining it, right?

You tell yourself that you’re feeling lazy after a long day of traveling and not wanting to change yet as you head downstairs into the kitchen, absolutely not hiking your shorts up a little and shimmying your tank top down.

“Good morning,” you chirp as you step into the kitchen. Your dad is already sitting at the dining table, most likely finishing his second cup of coffee, and his face lights up when he sees you as if he wasn’t the one to pick you up from the airport late last night. Aaron is standing in the kitchen next to the coffee machine, pouring into a travel mug.

You ignore the way you can feel Aaron’s dark eyes rove over you; the top of your breasts nearly threatening to spill out, your hard nipples poking through your top, and the curve of your ass peeking out from underneath your shorts.

“Morning, pumpkin,” your dad says cheerily, clearly oblivious to what’s going on between his friend and his own daughter. “This is Aaron, he works at the Bureau with me, I told you about him?”

You vaguely remember when you stalked through his Facebook profile several months ago after your father was tagged with him multiple times. The pictures of him were always blurry, never giving you anything to go off of.

As you stand next to him in the kitchen and crane your neck up to look at him, you realize the pictures really don’t do him justice. He’s handsome, almost boy-ish with the way his hair is clean and not gelled down like in the pictures, flopping in front of his forehead. He’s wearing a tight red polo, showcasing his broad shoulders and forearms in a way that makes you want to drool a bit. His brow is pinched, jaw tense, and you almost think you can hear his teeth grinding when he attempts to keep his eyes on your face and not on your chest.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Hotchner,” you say, giving him an innocent smile. You ignore the mug your dad must have left on the counter for you and stand up on your tiptoes to retrieve one from the overhead cupboard.

You feel a rush of exhilaration when you hear Aaron suck in a breath at the way your tank top hikes up your stomach. When you turn back to him, because he is technically in the way of the coffee machine, you catch the way his eyes sharpen and the way his hand grasps at the edge of the counter, knuckles turning white.

And then it’s gone, just like earlier, replaced with something almost professional, probably the same expression he makes when something ticks him off at work.

Interesting.

“Aaron is fine,” he says, stepping out of the way of the coffee machine and then holds his hand out for you to shake.

You can feel your dad watching you, so you make an effort to tone it down a bit. You put your hand in his, swallowing when you notice just how large his hands are and the way he grips you a bit tighter than what would be considered professional. When you look back up at him, there’s something almost like a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Nice to meet you, Aaron,” you repeat. It’s worth it to see a smile grace his face, replacing that smirk, and causing something fuzzy settle in your chest.

When he lets go and makes his way to sit across your dad at the table, you ignore how your hand suddenly feels like it’s burning.

“We’re about to head to the golf course here in a couple of minutes if you wanted to join?” your dad asks as you pour your coffee and sit down at the head of the table.

You hum and experimentally kick your feet out in Aaron’s direction to where he sits to your left. You make contact with his knee, and you watch almost gleefully as Aaron just barely jumps in his seat. He doesn’t make eye contact with you, just quietly sips at his coffee. It really shouldn’t turn you on the way it does. “I’m okay, I was just planning on hanging out here and catch up on my shows.”

“You sure, pumpkin? I know it’s been a while since you were out on the course but…”

“I think that’s exactly why I shouldn’t come with you,” you laugh. You pull your chair up closer to the table, making it look like you were just trying to get comfortable, when really you just wanted to cop more of a feel of Aaron’s thighs.

“Alright, alright,” your father says, putting his hands up in defeat. “But don’t forget about the retreat later this week with the guys.”

You pause from where you were just about to dig your toes underneath his thigh. “Retreat?”

“I told you about it when I picked you up last night!”

“I think you forgot that you picked me up at one in the morning and I was half-asleep in the car,” you roll your eyes. “But of course I’ll go with you.”

“Great!” Your dad says with that big smile on his face that always makes you feel nostalgic. You don’t really want to go, was honestly just planning on relaxing at home, but if it makes your dad happy and you get to spend more time with him, then you’ll do almost anything.

And if Aaron’s coming too, then well…

Your dad gets up to put his mug in the sink and starts making his way out of the dining room. “You ready to go, Hotchner?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Aaron says, a barely detectable rasp to his voice that has you hiding a smile in your mug.

You’re about to put your foot down when you feel thick fingers circling your ankle and lifting your leg up until your ankle is resting on Aaron’s knee. You nearly squeak in surprise, but the look on Aaron’s face stops you.

He would look calm, composed even, if you didn’t pay attention to the way his eyes have darkened. His brow is pinched, lips pressed into a thin line, as he tightens his grip on your ankle and asks in a low voice “What kind of game are you playing here?”

Not expecting confrontation, you don’t know what to say. Your breath gets stuck in your chest, something about the glare he’s giving you keeps you rooted in your chair.

Because there’s really only two options here. He’s your dad’s best friend, at least 20 years older than you, and you really have no business in sexually riling up this guy you’ve never met before until today. You can apologize, give him a genuine and friendly smile, and go back to your room and pretend this never happened and you weren’t just throwing yourself at some hot older man.

But there’s something about Aaron that you can’t quite put your finger on. You wonder what it would be like to see him without those walls he undoubtedly keeps up all the time, see him come undone. You can tell from his Facebook pictures that he’s a bigshot of some kind, always wearing a fitted suit and not a hair out of place. You can see that now, in his pressed polo and matching belt, that he likes control, his skin nearly thrumming with it. And that’s something you’ve always enjoyed playing with.

You noticed the lack of a wedding ring on his finger, and the way he’s gazing into you now. The hot trail his hand leaves behind as he starts running up your shin, past your knee, and grip at the meat of your thigh says all you need to know.

“What game?” you say, innocently. You even play it up a bit by batting your lashes at him.

His grip on your thigh tightens, and it feels so good, and it’s been so long, you resist rolling your eyes back and instead spread your legs just a bit underneath the table.

“Your father didn’t tell me you were such a brat,” he mutters.

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him,” you say, hoping you don’t sound as out of breath as you feel.

Aaron doesn’t say anything at that, just hums thoughtfully. You don’t have a chance to backpedal, redirect the conversation if you were reading the whole situation wrong, before he’s placing your leg back on the floor with a gentle hand on your ankle and getting up.

“We can talk more about what you want to do after school later,” he says, raising his voice a bit in an effort to appear like he wasn’t just groping you underneath the table.

You almost don’t hear what he says because your gaze is fixed on the obvious tent in his khakis. Your mouth nearly waters, and just knowing that you’re having the same kind of effect on him as he has on you has heat pooling between your thighs.

You shake your head, resisting the thoughts of throwing yourself on your knees in front of him and taking him in your mouth right in the dining room. You grin up at him and, in an impulsive decision that you’re secretly proud of, you reach over to put a hand on his thigh, dangerously close to his crotch.

“Absolutely, Mr. Hotchner.”

Your smile grows wider at the stormy glare he gives you before he heads out of the dining room, imperceptibly adjusting himself in his pants. Your eyes follow him out, cheeks nearly starting to hurt from how hard you’re smiling because damn, does his ass look good.

It’s your summer vacation, you may as well have some fun, right?

Since then, you’ve barely seen Aaron.

You had made Aaron and your father sandwiches, knowing they’d be home by the afternoon. You tried not to let the fact that you were upset, disappointed even, show on your face when your dad came home by himself and told you that Aaron got called for a case.

You knew from your dad that this was a normal occurrence for Aaron and that they’ve both gotten used to it. So many times there would be a gala or a party at the house and he would be called away to chase down a murderer or a rapist or a combination of the two.

You tried not to let it get to you, because seriously, you just met him, but also, it’s not like he owes you anything. But you really hoped that he wouldn’t miss the retreat later that week. Just imagining spending time with him in your lone hotel room was enough to make you dizzy.

So, you distracted yourself. You caught up on your emails, watched those shows that had been piling up in your watch later list, and spent time with your dad at the golf course or whatever else he wanted to do that day. It was nice spending your summer vacation with your dad and catching up on what he does at his boring administrative job and the lack of both of your love lives.

By the time Friday rolled around, there was still nothing but radio silence from Aaron, at least you assumed since your dad hadn’t mentioned him. You almost wish you had asked for his phone number before he left, but it wouldn’t have done you any good to waste a whole week sitting by your cellphone, waiting for a probably dry text from some guy.

A really hot, older guy that definitely has control issues and could toss you around like a ragdoll.

You’re throwing your bag in your car’s backseat and was about to admit defeat, that maybe he really wasn’t going to make it, when a black Range Rover comes skidding down your street and into your driveway.

“There he is,” your dad said in a sing-song voice, sounding about as giddy as you felt.

Your breath catches in your throat when you see him stepping out of his car, because how the hell is it possible for a man to look so attractive doing something so mundane?

And then your eyes nearly bug out because he has his suit jacket hanging from his arm, a duffel bag in the other, and is wearing a white dress shirt so tight that you could see the bulge of his biceps and the softness of his stomach.

“Sorry I’m late,” Aaron says, jogging up to where you and father were. “We just got back a couple hours ago.”

He looks at you then with those pretty brown eyes, looking genuinely apologetic, and the disappointment that you were afraid was going to take a permanent place in your chest gently unravels.

“It’s no problem, Hotch,” your dad waves him off. “We’re still waiting for some of the other guys, so you made it just in time.”

“Great,” Aaron breathes in relief. “I’m going to go change then, I’ll be right back.” His eyes flit towards you again, and you would’ve missed it if you weren’t still staring at him. They’re piercing, undoubtedly beckoning you to follow him, and there’s a hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth.

You feel a rush of excitement shooting through you as you watch him head towards the front door, eyes fixated on his hips. There was no clearer sign than that one, though you try not to roll your eyes fondly at the fact that your dad evidently did not notice as he goes back to playing Tetris with his bags in the trunk.

You wait a couple of minutes, pretending to play on your phone, and then exclaim “Oops, I almost forgot my phone charger! I’m going to run upstairs and get it.”

Your dad just gives an “Okie dokie, sweetie,” and then his phone rings with who you assume is one of his friends you’re waiting for.

You try to not sprint to the front door, instead taking a deep breath and walking in what you hope looks like a normal pace. However, as soon as the front door clicked shut, you run up the stairs, hoping Aaron chose your bathroom rather than the one downstairs.

Not spotting him waiting outside the bathroom, your heart nearly drops out from underneath you, however you notice the closed door and the soft golden light from underneath telling you that you were right.

You were right and maybe you weren’t imagining things. He knew you would listen to his unspoken instructions and follow him. You weren’t a profiler like him, not an expert at studying other people’s body language, but there was nothing fake about the fact that he got hard at your dining room table and you had only known each other for 10 minutes that Sunday.

The click of the door opening disrupts your thoughts. You’re about to grin up at Aaron, say something cute like how you’ve missed him or something more playful like asking why he hasn’t called you.

But you don’t get the chance because you’re suddenly being pressed up against the wall, warm hands on your hips, and Aaron’s soft mouth pressing into yours.

He swallows your gasp, his fingers inching up the hem of your tank top to touch the skin of your waist and kisses the life out of you. His lips are chapped and he tastes fresh, like he had a breath mint on the drive here, and the thought that he had that foresight just for you makes your knees weak.

He kisses you deeply, not even bothering to start gentle like so many other boys have tried before, and it’s overwhelming and not enough at the same time. You’re helpless to kiss back, your body finally catching up, and your hands come up to tangle at the soft strands at the nape of his neck.

He hums against your lips at that, his hands starting to move underneath your shirt to trace the swell of your breasts through your bra. It tickles, and you squirm a little and huff a laugh against his mouth before you can help it.

Before you could apologize and tell him to stop tickling you, his hands press your hips harder against the wall and his lips break away from yours. You attempt to chase him, because you were definitely not done making out, when Aaron tuts at you.

“Behave,” he warns lowly, but he has a full-blown smirk now. His eyes are dark, pupils blown, and his lips red and glistening. He looks so unbearingly sexy when he’s reprimanding you, he just makes it so easy for you to tease him.

“Or what?” You ask, smiling up at him. You watch as his smirk falters, brows furrowing, and something like frustration and exasperation blooms on his face.

“You’re ridiculous,” Aaron breathed, before he’s leaning in and pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jawline and down your neck. He scrapes his teeth against the spot where your shoulder and neck meets and your knees actually buckle this time, something like a strangled moan coming out of your mouth and catching you by surprise. “Looks like you do know how to watch that mouth of yours.”

Any snarky comeback you have dies in your throat because you did not expect Aaron to have that kind of dirty mouth on him. Molten heat starts to pool at the bottom of your stomach, between your thighs, as he slips the strap of your tank top down your shoulder to trace your collarbone with his lips.

“Aaron…,” you whisper, letting your hands fall from his nape to grab at his shoulders, trail down to grope at his biceps. The sleek muscle you can feel even through the fabric of his polo that he changed into, tensing and flexing as he pushes at you, sends your mind reeling.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he mutters against your shoulder, his warm breath and the pet name making you feel paralyzed. “Cat got your tongue?”

Your eyes roll back as you feel him biting a mark onto your chest, right underneath your collarbone, the pain and pleasure tingling all the way down to your cunt. You say something unintelligible, brain feeling muddled, because holy shit.

“Hey pumpkin, did your find your charger? We have to get moving!” You hear your dad’s voice from downstairs and barely swallow back a gasp before Aaron’s hand is pressed over your mouth to quiet you. You hate that that does absolutely nothing to help the growing arousal between your thighs.

Aaron’s eyes meet yours. His eyes have gotten impossibly darker, soft hair falling against his forehead. The wild desire and excitement are clear on his face, but he raises his eyebrows at you to signal you to behave before he lifts his palm off your face.

“Coming!” you yell back at him, hoping the strain in your voice isn’t as obvious to him as it is to you.

Aaron hums, something smug playing at his lips. “Maybe later.”

And it’s ridiculous. Aaron Hotchner, stoic Unit Chief of an FBI unit, best friend of your dad, and 20 years older than you just made out with you so hard that your knees buckled and made a joke about making you come?

You huff a laugh, pushing at his shoulder so you can wriggle out of his grip. He lets go immediately, stepping back to give you several feet of space, and you try not to think about how you already miss the heat and weight of his body against yours.

You’re about to run downstairs, an excuse about realizing you already packed your charger on the tip of your tongue, when Aaron is circling his fingers around your wrist. You look back at him curiously, because as much as you want to, there definitely isn’t time for him to ravage you in your bedroom.

He looks much more composed now, more like his professional SSA Aaron Hotchner self, but you catch the way his eyes linger on the way your shorts ride up high and the soft expanse of your thighs. “I’m serious. We’ll finish this later.”

And it’s the way he doesn’t pose it as a question, but rather a guarantee. Like nothing is going to stop him from having his way with you.

The thought of being completely at Aaron’s mercy has you breathless, feeling a flush rise on your face and your pulse between your legs. He has you stunned speechless, because you’ve never been with someone who has made you feel complete and utter want. You look at him now, chest imperceptibly heaving and making that olive green polo tug across the wide expanse of his chest, you realize that he may just ruin other people for you completely.

Your throat clicks when you clear it, and you only feel a little embarrassed when Aaron doesn’t hide his smirk at you. All words have died in your throat, so you nod instead, hoping that he will take that as an answer.

If possible, Aaron looks even more smug at that.

“Good girl.”

The drive to the hotel where the retreat is being held is only 2 hours away, which would’ve been perfectly easy, if you weren’t stuck in the car with Aaron.

You were planning on driving your own car with the top down, wind in your hair, and music blasting. You wanted to spend at least part of your summer vacation doing girly summery things, such as driving into the night with your hair whipping your face and feeling the humidity making your tank top stick to your back.

You also thought you would have time to yourself to think about Aaron and what the hell you got yourself into.

Instead, because you can’t tell if the universe loves or hates you, you have to take Aaron’s Range Rover because everyone else’s cars are packed full, and your dad wouldn’t let you drive by yourself. You tried not to show the excitement bloom on your face when your dad told you, but by the pointed look that Aaron gave you, you didn’t do a very good job.

So, it’s just you, Aaron, and the incredibly tangible sexual tension between you.

The first 30 minutes was easy. It took a while for everyone to find the correct route and there was a lengthy discussion over the phone about whether anyone wanted to stop anywhere for any reason. Eventually, you and at least 4 other similarly lavish cars made it onto the highway.

Aaron was silent for most of the phone call, saying that he didn’t have anywhere he wanted to stop at, and was just looking forward to the fancy clawfoot tub the hotel advertised on their website. You threw a glance at him at that, wondering if he was trying to tell you that he wanted to fuck in the bathtub, but nope. His eyes were firmly on the road, both arms on the steering wheel like a responsible adult or whatever.

You weren’t sure how he was able to act like nothing happened—like you weren’t about to let him just fuck you up against the wall in your childhood home, because currently, you felt like you were about to jump out of your skin from the nervous energy thrumming through you.

You fully ogle him now since it’s not like you have anything to hide. Even his side profile is attractive, but at this point you’re not surprised. Everything you’ve been noticing about him has been steadily driving you wild; the sharp cut of his jaw, the faint traces of stubble, and the way his hands are gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white.

You watch the bob of his Adam’s apple as he deadpans “You’re staring.”

You grin at him before you could help it. “It’s not my fault you’re so handsome. They should study you in art classes, maybe you can even get naked for it?”

The snort that comes out of Aaron’s mouth is sudden, and by the way his eyebrows pinch together like he’s thinking hard, he notices as well. “You really are insatiable.”

“You say that like we’ve even done anything yet,” you mutter, mostly to yourself, turning your head to the window to stare at the sun setting. It would be nighttime by the time you got to the hotel, but you’re already sleepy and debating taking a nap while Aaron drives.

You jump when you feel his hand on your thigh, large and warm. You’ve had other men put their hand on your thigh while they drive and it’s nice, maybe even comforting at times, but with Aaron, the action feels darker. It feels more possessive, heated, and just the sight of his huge hand squeezing the flesh of your thigh has you unconsciously squeezing your legs, trapping the tips of his fingers between them.

“Can you behave?” he wondered out loud. “Because you’re not showing me that you can until we get to the hotel.”

The challenge is clear in the deep timbre of his voice, nearly condescending in a way that makes your breath quicken. You vaguely thought about what he had planned for you at the hotel, luckily you had a whole room to yourself since none of your dad’s friends’ daughters wanted to come. You don’t necessarily blame them—you probably wouldn’t have come either if it weren’t for Aaron and the undoubtable promise that you will have the best sex of your life.

And you do want to wait, honestly. But right now, watching the way his biceps flex in the golden light and remembering the way he desperately grabbed at your hips has you rethinking.

So, you give him an innocent smile, reminiscent of the one you gave him earlier this week, and take a hold of his hand to intertwine your fingers together. The action is slightly risky, implying something about your relationship that neither have you discussed. You may be overthinking it, worried that Aaron would think you’re jumping to conclusions, but all of your reservations disappear when Aaron’s hand squeezes yours and brings your joined hands to rest in his lap.

He gives you a soft smile, one you’ve never seen before that makes your chest tighten, and turns his gaze back on the road.

The following 10 minutes are quiet besides the soft roar of the engine and the gentle hum of the radio. The sun setting washes the interior of the car with a warm gold, and you can’t help but notice the way both of your hands, still clasped together, just look so good together. Like you perfectly complemented each other.

You blame it on the fact that you’re starting to get bored when you wiggle your hand to free yourself from Aaron’s grasp to run your fingers along the top of his hands. You trace each knuckle before tracking the visible veins with a light touch, your fingers running up his wrist and to his forearm. The dusting of hair is soothing when you place a firmer hand onto his forearm, gripping it, and your heart thuds in your chest when you notice your thumb and middle finger can’t even touch each other.

He's just so big. His arms, his hands, his shoulders. The way he can so easily overpower you, manhandle you, domineering in a way that makes you want to act out even more just to see what he would do.

He throws you a curious glance when your hand moves up to his bicep, squeezing and feeling.

“Just touching,” you say, and then Aaron’s eyes are back on the road.

The next thing you do is completely spontaneous, out of character for you even, however you know being impulsive is what got you here in the first place.

You place your hand on his crotch.

He doesn’t jump because, of course not. If anything, he was expecting it by the way he just gives you another curious look. Your eyes are instantly drawn to the way his tongue flicks out to wet his lips and the sudden clenching of his jaw.

“Still just touching,” you repeat and turn your focus to your phone with your free hand, leaving your other hand in his lap.

You scroll mindlessly through several different apps for a couple minutes, not even reading anything because you’re too stunned with the fact that Aaron didn’t say anything or remind you to be on your best behavior. Your hand is still precariously placed on his crotch, the seam of his jeans warm against the palm of your hand.

You start scrolling more intently now, reading the entirety of at least every other post, before you start tentatively rubbing your fingers on where you can definitely feel the head of his dick through his pants. Aaron inhales sharply, so quietly you almost don’t hear it, and it’s all the permission you need.

You start pressing more firmly, grabbing him through his jeans to the best of your ability and tracing the line of his slowly hardening cock through the rough material. You grope at him, nearly shamelessly now, and it takes all of your willpower to not throw your phone to the backseat and jump into his lap.

Instead, you place your phone at your feet and turn your body towards him. His back is ramrod straight and his hands are grasping at the steering wheel like his life depends on it. If anyone passing by looked through the window, they would just assume that Aaron was one of those extremely attentive drivers. However, up close, you can see the tense line of his jaw, the way his brows are pinched together, and the way he’s attempting to hide the way he’s starting to breathe heavily through slightly parted lips.

It's intoxicating, and you want more.

Your hand begins to move up his zipper to the top button of his jeans. His eyes dart to you then, craning his neck slightly to look at you but also making sure to keep his eyes on the road, as if the road is even that busy.

“You really can’t listen, can you?”

That condescending tone again makes your brain nearly short-circuit. It’s like a dam breaks because suddenly you’re leaning over the console, making your breasts nearly spill out from your tank top, and you want him in your mouth and coming down your throat if it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. “Can I?”

“Can you what, sweetheart? Use your words.”

Christ. “Please, can I suck on your cock?”

He hums nonchalantly, as if you can’t see the way he shifts in his seat or the way he’s hurriedly unbuttoning his jeans with one hand. “’Please?’ Looks like you do have some manners.”

And then he’s taking his cock out and you nearly combust on the spot. He’s not fully hard, but you still want nothing more than to feel him on your tongue.

You’re just about to unbuckle your seatbelt to throw yourself into his lap before he stops you by placing his hand over yours.

“Not your mouth, we don’t want other people to know what a dirty girl you are. Use your hands,” he says, nonchalant again in a way that makes your heart race and the ache between your thighs grow.

Although the idea of being caught with your head in his lap and cock down your throat suddenly sounds extremely appealing in a way you’ve never thought of before, you have no choice but to listen and follow his instructions.

You hesitatingly wrap your hand around him, watching in near fascination at the drop of precum that leaks out. He’s big here too, satisfyingly thick and warm in your hand. You move your hand up to smear the wetness around him and then start a steady rhythm of pumping his cock.

A strangled groan comes out of Aaron eventually, and you watch as he attempts to throw his head back in ecstasy while still watching the road with half-lidded eyes. The wide expanse of his pretty throat tempts you, imagining what it would be like to pepper kisses up to his tense jaw to help him relax.

He’s fully hard now, precum steadily leaking out and coating the palm of your hand. You attempt to vary your actions; twisting on the upstroke, squeezing when you’re at the base, or tracing your thumb against the head of his cock. The loud squelching noise makes you feel embarrassed and hot all at the same time, the way it’s drowning out the radio’s music. Your mouth waters as you watch the head of his dick disappear in your fist, wishing you could taste him or see the sheer bliss on his face as he fucks your mouth.

“You couldn’t even wait to get your hands on me, could you?” Aaron murmured, nearly sneering at you. “I bet if I let you, you would let me pull over and fuck you here on the side of the road.”

You swallow nervously, clenching your thighs and trying to ignore the obvious wetness you can feel in your own panties. You squeeze him harder, enthralled by the feeling of his hot flesh against you, and breathlessly whisper “I would.”

He hisses at that, nearly bucking his hips up to follow your hand. “You would let me fuck you anywhere I want.”

It wasn’t a question, but you still feel compelled to answer. “Yes.”

Just then, Aaron’s phone rings from the phone mount on the dashboard. Dread and something awfully similar to delight prickles at the back of your neck when you notice the caller ID being your father. You’re about to retract your hand until Aaron gives you a look out of the corner of your eye, almost like a glare, before his own hand is hot over yours to keep you there.

“Keep going.”

Before you can think of a snarky remark, Aaron swipes at his phone to answer.

“Hotchner.” Nonchalant, casual, as if he doesn’t have his leaking cock in the hands of his best friend’s daughter.

“Hey Hotch, we’re coming up on a great burger joint here in a couple of miles and I wanted to see if you guys were alright with that? I think we lost you.”

You must have been extremely distracted because you’re just now noticing you can’t see your father’s car ahead of you anymore. There are only a few cars on the highway now after finally passing all the city traffic, now driving through a somewhat rural area. You don’t blame yourself after all, because how often do you find yourself giving handjobs to hot older men in their cars?

“I was actually thinking of pulling over at a rest stop, someone’s not feeling well.” Aaron cranes his neck, raising an eyebrow at you.

Even in the darkness of the summer evening and the sparse streetlights bouncing off the dashboard, the pure and primal desire swimming in his eyes is clear and causes a flush to rise to your face.

“Yeah, it must have been lunch,” you attempt to joke, hoping that the rasp in your voice doesn’t give you away. You feel Aaron’s cock twitch in your hand.

Your dad hums through the tinny speakers. “Yeah, you don’t sound so good.”

You notice the car slowing down, not realizing that you were pulling up to a secluded area of a rest stop, right underneath a tree. You glance out the window and take in the fact that the nearest car is over 10 spots away and the closest streetlight is burnt out. You think of the discreet dark color of the car and the tinted windows. Anticipation curls at the bottom of your stomach.

“We’ll let you know when we’re back on the road.” And then Aaron immediately hangs up, parks the car, and leans over the console to kiss you with a hand cradling your cheek.

He cuts to the chase again, kissing you so deeply that your head spins. His mouth is soft but he’s assertive even like this. His hand moves to the back of your neck, taking a hold of you, and your mouth opens in a moan before you can stop yourself, allowing Aaron’s tongue to brush against yours.

When he pulls back, something like a needy whine erupts from your throat. You don’t realize that your hands moved to grasp at his polo, leaving Aaron’s cock free and pressed against his stomach.

“You drive me crazy,” Aaron mutters, brushing a lock of hair behind your head. His gesture and words are impossibly soft, a complete contrast to how he was kissing you, making your breath stutter in your chest.

“You drive me crazy,” you whisper breathily. “Please fuck me?”

He huffs a laugh at that, something you’re slowly starting to become familiar with, and tightens his hold on the back of your neck. There’s nothing soft in his eyes anymore. “Get in the back, now.”

You scramble to get out of the car, legs nearly shaking. The summer humidity is cloying, suffocating, and you rush to open the door to crawl in the backseat.

The seats are just as large and plush as up front, however there’s definitely more foot room that you’re sure Aaron will appreciate. You’re waiting in the middle seat, legs tucked underneath you, as you watch Aaron tuck himself back into his jeans and step out of the car with an air of nonchalance that somehow makes him even more attractive.

When he opens the door to climb into the back, your eyes meet and you suddenly feel frozen to the spot, because he starts to encroach into your space, nearly predatory. There’s a glint in his eyes as he places his hand on your back, lowering you so you’re laying on the seats. You unconsciously spread your legs so he could situate himself between them, and the feeling of his large and warm body between your thighs has you hitching them up on his hips.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been thinking about this,” Aaron murmurs before ducking his head to press his mouth against your jawline, down your neck, and finally finally sucking a mark where your shoulder meets.

You exhale a shaky moan, bringing your hands up to run down his back and feel how wide his shoulders are and how you can feel his muscles tense as he moves. The wet heat of his mouth, his obscenely large hands on your hips, and the way his figure nearly engulfs you is mesmerizing.

He pulls back to take a look at you, thumb coming up to press into the mark he made and putting light pressure against your neck. There’s something wild and possessive in his eyes, his lips parted like he can’t believe what’s happening. “There you go. Now you’ll remember who you belong to.”

It feels like your breath is knocked out of you and replaced with something equally possessive. “Are you going to fuck me or what?”

Something dark passes over his face. “And here I thought you were going to behave.”

Before you could say anything, Aaron is swiftly lifting your tank top up and over your head, throwing it somewhere towards the passenger seat, and groping your tits. He thumbs at your nipples, watching in awe as you arch your back and push your chest further into his hands. The sudden sensation, pleasure zinging up your spine, after being teased for an entire week is dizzying and you want to drown in it.

“You’re so needy for it, aren’t you?” Aaron says, casually, as he pinches at your nipples. You choke on your moan, the initial sting melting into pleasure that makes you feel drunk. “You’re practically begging for my cock.”

“Yes,” you manage to gasp out. Your hands scramble at his shoulders, running up to tangle the soft hairs at the nape of his neck between your fingers. “I need your cock inside me.”

He leans down to suck one of your nipples in his mouth, deft fingers continuing on the other. His mouth is so deliciously wet and hot, expertly licking around you in a way that’s slowly unraveling you, and you shiver when you think about where else his mouth can be of use. Your eyes nearly roll back in your head and you cant your hips up desperately in an effort to gain some sort of friction against the nearly overbearing ache between your thighs.

His hands come down to press your hips down in an effort to make you stop squirming and you feel him shift until his knee is pressing between your legs and against your pussy through your shorts. The feeling of his warm hands on you and the seam of your shorts rubbing against your clit causes an embarrassingly high-pitched whine to escape your throat.

“You’re teasing me,” you pant, tugging at his hair experimentally.

Another raspy groan erupts from Aaron and, if possible, you feel hotter. His mouth detaches from your nipple and you instantly miss the hot heat of his mouth, until he says “And what if I want to taste that pretty little cunt of yours?”

Imagining Aaron pressing open-mouthed kisses against your thighs, breathing hotly against your panties until he’s pressing his tongue against you, smearing even more wetness around until you’re nearly dripping onto the expensive upholstery has you whimpering. Your mind races as you imagine him pulling your panties aside so he can press his soft mouth against you, licking and lapping at your pussy like you’re a five-course meal, sucking on your clit until you’re screaming his name and begging him to stop.

No words come out, mind nearly melted just at the thought of Aaron looking up at you from between your thighs and his mouth on your cunt. Instead, you let out a breathless moan and attempt to grind down against Aaron’s knee, chasing the little stimulation you can get.

Aaron licks his lips as he watches you, eyes dark and predatory. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?” His thumbs briefly traces your hips, and you nearly miss the tender touch, before he’s hooking them into the waistband of your shorts and tugs them down. “But we don’t have time for that, so I’m just going to fuck that needy pussy of yours.”

It took quite a bit of wriggling and Aaron hitting his head against the roof of the car to get your shorts and panties off of you, and you’re about to joke that this was an exercise in of itself, until Aaron is settling back between your legs with his own legs crammed underneath him. You suddenly realize Aaron is still wearing all of his clothes, polo wrinkled and pants hanging loosely at his hips, while you’re completely naked and vulnerable, desperate and needy like he said.

His fingers dance across the soft expanse of your thighs until he presses a finger against you, so close to where you need him. You breathe unsteadily and have to close your eyes, suddenly feeling overwhelmed, when Aaron gently grazes between your folds. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me, honey. Is this all for me?”

You nod rapidly and push your hips down in an effort to tell him to hurry the fuck up.

Aaron tuts at you. “What did I say about using your words?” And then he’s forgoing your clit completely and pressing a thick finger inside.

You gasp, eyes shooting open and meeting his from where he’s watching your face so intently it would’ve been intimidating if you didn’t feel white-hot pleasure take over your body. “Yes, I’m wet, just for you,” you rush out.

He hums, satisfied. “Just for me, right?” He begins thrusting his finger inside of you, and the feeling of being filled and something finally happening has you arching your back against him again, soft whines escaping your mouth before you can help it. The lewd noises from your sopping pussy rings out in the small space of the car, jarring, but it just makes you feel hotter.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you babble, attempting to rut your hips down to meet his thrusts, steadily growing in pace. Your hand shoots down to take ahold of his forearm, nearly distracted at the veins popping out, when you feel a second finger prodding at you. “Please just fuck me already, I’m ready.”

You watch Aaron’s mouth form what has to be a reprimand, scolding you for being so desperate, but then it closes and forms into something softer even as his gaze is fixated on his thick fingers thrusting in and out of your pussy. He leans in and kisses you before you realize, just a soft press of his lips against yours. When he pulls back, he’s still wearing a faint smile, and tucks a stray strand of your hair behind an ear. It’s all so painstakingly affectionate, you feel at a loss for words again but for a completely different reason you can’t name.

“How can I say no to you?” he mutters, almost to himself, and it shocks you to your core.

He doesn’t wait for a response and pulls out a condom from his back pocket. You watch as he’s about to tear the foil packet open, thoughts turning over and over in your head, before you exclaim “It’s fine, I’m on the pill.”

He pauses and stares at you, serious based off the pinch of his brows. “Are you sure? I don’t mind…”

“I’m sure,” you say, throwing your arms around his neck so you can run your fingers through his hair. And you are absolutely sure, confident, because you know the cherry on top of this whole experience would be feeling his cock spill in your pussy and filling you up. “I want to feel you.”

You watch as he groans, closes his eyes, and leans his forehead against yours, staring at the flutter of his long eyelashes. “You are killing me, sweetheart.”

You let out a breathless laugh. “Are you kidding me? I can say the same for you.”

Because if you thought Aaron looked good wearing a suit in those blurry pictures on Facebook, it doesn’t even compare to how he looks now. His polo tightly stretched over his shoulders, slightly disheveled from where you were grabbing onto him, belt unbuckled and pants hanging deliciously half-open from his hips, and hair tousled, the gel maintaining his professional appearance giving way to make him look younger. He’s so unbelievably hot you almost believe you’re dreaming.

You watch as he pushes his jeans and boxers down enough to where his cock pops out, the head a sympathetic dark red from where he must’ve been achingly hard this entire time. Before you make another attempt to have him in your mouth, he’s pushing in, stretching you deliciously open and making you grip harder at the hair at his nape.

“Fuck, you’re still so tight for me,” Aaron grunts, his hands flying to grasp onto your hips.

Although you can feel him sink into you, inch by inch, you’re mesmerized by the sharp focus on his face, the pinch in his brow and eyes clenched shut. As if he’s trying not to throw away all abandon and pound into you, and the thought is so intoxicating it makes your head spin.

“Oh my god,” you mumble. He bottoms out, his cock finally pushed all way in your pussy, and he’s much bigger, thicker, than you realized. It feels so, so good—being filled up with his hard cock, his hips pressing against your thighs as they splay out the way you’ve been dreaming of for the past week.

“You okay?” Aaron asks, gentle again, and before you could answer, he’s pulling back and thrusting back into you.

A gasp wretches out of you and your hands scramble at his back, pulling him down because you need him to be closer, need his large body pushing down on you and making you take him.

He lets you, giving you a mockingly sympathetic look, and leans down to press an open-mouthed kiss against your jawline. He starts a steady rhythm then—thrusting in and out of you and knocking the breath out of you. “You’re going to take my fat cock, baby? I know you’ve been begging for it all week; you need it so bad, don’t you?”

Jesus Christ.

Words escape you again, instead, your mouth hangs open as you attempt to nod in response. Even though the car’s AC was blasting, you were covered in sweat and sliding up the seats with every thrust of Aaron’s hips. You definitely weren’t complaining, probably wouldn’t even be able to because sounds you didn’t even know you were capable of making kept coming out of you, eyes nearly permanently rolled back in your head. It felt so good, you didn’t think fucking could ever feel this good, but Aaron continues to exceed expectations.

You hitch your legs up his hips higher and let out a high-pitched whine at the change in angle, hot pleasure zinging up your spine. Aaron grunts, something dark and masculine that makes you preen, and his hips start snapping harder, faster.

“Look at you,” he murmurs lowly right into your ear. “Being fucked so good you can’t even speak.”

He shifts again, hands hooking underneath your thighs and, with your nod, presses your knees to your chest until they’re next to your ears, legs dangling over his shoulders. You wrap your arms around your thighs, holding them in place, and your eyes nearly roll back into your head when Aaron’s cock slides even deeper into your cunt with a wet sound. He feels heavenly, even despite not having touched your clit at all.

He fucks you relentlessly and you think your brain has melted out of your ears because you just take it. The sound of his skin slapping against yours, the litany of groans and praises that fall from his lips, and your nonstop whimpering gasps is heady. You don’t even care if you can’t come just from him rutting into you alone, it feels too fucking good.

He sits back up, not once breaking his brutal pace, and makes unwaveringly intense eye contact with you. “My beautiful girl takes my cock so well, making such pretty noises. I can’t wait to fill this pussy up with my come.”

You really did not expect Aaron to have the dirty mouth he does, but again, you’re not complaining. Instead, you bring one of your arms down to snake between your thighs where you’re absolutely soaked in your combined wetness and sweat to circle your clit. The added stimulation, finally, has your thighs shaking and your pussy clenching around him. You squirm a bit, because his belt buckle has started to dig into you from where his pants are pooling around his knees, but you’re suddenly so close.

“Fuck, Aaron…”

He licks his lips at that, starts to fuck into you faster somehow. He knocks your hand aside to replace with his own and you absolutely mewl when you feel the rough callous of his thumb gently circling your clit, impossibly slow. “Is my good girl going to come? You’re going to come all over my cock, sweetheart?”

Your heart is pounding in your ears, and you can barely detect the strain in Aaron’s voice, like he’s close too. “Yes, yes, please,” you stutter, feeling your gut tighten and sweat breaking out on the back of your neck. “Harder.”

Aaron lets out a shaky laugh. “Since you asked so nicely.”

And then he’s rubbing your clit mercilessly, almost too rough if your nerves weren’t already so close to snapping. You let out a string of strangled whines, your hands coming up to hold onto Aaron’s free arm for dear life. You’re so wet that his fingers just glide over you, the wet noises of him fucking into you getting you hotter, making the coil in your stomach wind tighter, but it’s still not enough.

You watch with half-lidded eyes as Aaron lifts his right hand from where he was definitely leaving bruises on your hip to place at the base of your throat. Your eyes widen but you don’t stop him because the feeling sends your mind spinning, realizing that you have placed so much trust in this man and he’s thoughtful enough to care for you, treasure you, and fuck you so hard he’s definitely ruined you for anyone else.

His eyes are impossibly dark, hair falling into his face, and you meet his gaze unblinkingly as he puts light pressure on your throat. “Come for me.”

You don’t know if it’s the hand on your neck, his cock frantically fucking into you, or the soft baritone of his voice that has you pushing over the edge. You come with a choked gasp of his name, hips and thighs shaking almost uncontrollably. You swear your vision whites out because you don’t think you’ve ever come so hard in your fucking life.

You distantly hear Aaron grunt your name, feel him fuck into you desperately and erratically. He lets go of your throat, you secretly already miss the weight of his hand, and he clutches at your hips as he chases his own orgasm. It doesn’t take long for his hips to stutter, coming into you with a guttural moan that sends a shiver down your back. He grinds his hips into you, like he’s making sure he’s giving you every last drop he has, and the thought has you whimpering.

You stay like that as both of you catch your breath. Your thighs and hips are starting to ache uncomfortably, pussy sore in a way where you know you’ll be feeling it tomorrow, but you watch the way Aaron runs his hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes so he can lean in to kiss you, and it’s all worth it.

He pulls out slowly, dick twitching half-way inside of you when you moan at the empty feeling. You feel his come instantly start to drip out of you and onto the seats, and the dangerous glint in Aaron’s eyes has you squirming, heat licking up your back.

“Are you okay?” he asks, leaning over to open the console and hopefully rummage around for a hidden towel. You hope he doesn’t pull out old and scratchy fast-food napkins like the ones you have crammed in your glove compartment.

You laugh breathlessly, slowly dropping your legs down to dangle a bit more comfortably. “More than okay.”

He comes back with a pouch of wet wipes, slightly used, and you’re surprised at the sudden twinge of jealousy you feel when you imagine why he has wet wipes ready in his car and how many other women he’s fucked in his expensive car.

He’s thorough in cleaning you up, chest rapidly rising and falling as he continues to catch his breath. As if he can read your mind, he looks up at you curiously with no trace of the stern persona he had when he was fucking you mindlessly. You had thought you hid your jealousy well, however you find yourself glaring at the wipes in his hand.

He gives you an achingly sweet smile, a surprise dimple making an appearance, and leans over you where you’re still sweating all over his backseat. “Every parent has wet wipes in their car.”

You feel your cheeks heat at being caught, that he somehow knew you were drowning in the sudden onslaught of jealousy clawing up your chest. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” He throws the used wipes on the floor to pick up later, and then he’s wrestling around with you until you’re somehow laying on top of him across the seats, both of your legs bunched up and tangled together.

You’re sticky and sweaty, and Aaron has nearly sweated through his polo, causing it to cling to his chest in a way that has you wanting to put your hands all over him. So, you do, running your palms up and down him so intently that it gets a chuckle out of him.

“All of your clothes are still on.”

“Well, I was a little busy.” Oh, he’s a little cheeky after sex.

Both of you are laying in comfortable silence as you still catch your breaths, Aaron moreso than you, when his phone goes off where it hasn’t moved from the phone mount. The bright light causes you to squint, and you turn to press your face into Aaron’s chest with a whine. “Don’t pick up.”

“Alright, alright,” Aaron says despite him making no moves anyway to get up. He cranes his neck to get a good look at the caller ID and you can feel his body stiffen. “It’s your dad.”

And just like that, a bucket of cold water is splashed over you. You just had sex with your dad’s best friend in his expensive Range Rover in some sketchy rest stop.

You must have froze as well because then Aaron is running a hand up and down your back, making you shiver. He’s trying to comfort you, you know that, but honestly your thoughts immediately melt into other things that rely on his hands on you. Like pushing your head down between his legs. Maybe he’s right and you really are insatiable.

“Come on, let’s get going.”

The car ride the rest of the way to the hotel is mostly silent between you two, the only noises being the wind deafening you and your hair slapping into your face since he rolled the windows down.

To air out the stench of sex in the car, you remember.

You would almost think Aaron was mad, the way he didn’t try to make conversation with you, and you knew that you would be spiraling if it wasn’t for the fact that he held your hand in his lap the entire time.

You probably wouldn’t be much for conversation anyway—you’re already trying not to let your mind race about what you were going to do.

You’re only here for a couple of weeks, you go to school across the country, and technically, this was only supposed to be a summer fling. You don’t technically need to tell your dad about what happened.

You turn to look at Aaron, unabashedly. His hair is still tussled, thanks to your fingers, and there’s sweat beading along his forehead from the summer humidity. You stare at the sharp slope of his nose, the way the lights from the highway reflect in his dark eyes, and you’re suddenly wracked with the feeling of not wanting to let him go.

He squeezes your hand when he notices you staring for too long. He turns to you, most likely seeing the desperation on your face. He misinterprets it, thinking you’re running over what you’re going to tell your father over and over in your head. He has no idea that you want to keep seeing him, that you want to make this work somehow, whatever is between you two.

“We’ll figure it out.”

When you notice his gentle smile, the methodical way he runs his thumb over the back of your hand, you believe him.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner fic #dbf!hotch #aaron hotchner smut #dbf!aaron hotchner #mine #hiiiii #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader smut #aaron hotchner

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hvnlygrl · 16 hours ago

Note

Hey girl! I wanted to send in a Rafe request for the angst prompt #7: accidentally/drunkenly confessing feelings and yes it’s for the celebration! But it’s Rafe that confesses his feelings for the reader even though she’s a pogue but he’s always had a soft spot for her🤍

drunken confession.

pairing — rafe cameron x pogue!fem!reader

word count — 0.7k

synopsis — rafe gets drunk and starts spilling the beans on his love for you.

notes — hi babe! i love this sm he would be such a doofus honestly.

join my follower celebration — until feb. 3rd!

you watched rafe down shot after shot, part of you feeling a little concerned for his well being for the rest of the night, and the other part of you just wanting to focus on your friends and mind your business.

but rafe was your friend too, you reminded yourself. you’d grown a soft spot for the kook after a party one night, one very similar to this one, in fact. jj loved to tease you and say that the feelings you harbored were much more than platonic, and you constantly denied his statement. but you knew he was right.

you also knew, however, that rafe cameron would never be caught dead dating a pogue. so any and all thoughts and feelings that were more than platonic for rafe got locked away to protect your own well being. the last thing you needed was the boys getting on your ass for being in love with a kook, or for topper and kelce to antagonize you for being a nasty pogue that nobody, especially rafe, would ever love.

and yet here you were, stuffing him into the passenger seat of your car because he’d had far too many to drink.

“how you feelin’ buddy?” you hum softly, your voice sounding like music to rafe’s ears. “let me know if you wanna throw up, okay?”

he just groaned in response, your words nearly triggering his gag response. “drive slow,” he keeps his eyes closed tightly as he takes deep breaths.

“you got it,” you huff through a laugh, driving as safely and steadily as you could while you brought him back to your house. you knew ward would flip his shit if rafe got brought home by a pogue while drunk like that and you wanted to protect him from that shitshow as much as possible.

by the time you got him to your house, he sighed desperately as he crawled into your bed, trashcan ready by his side. “y/n?” he called out, eyes trying to steady themselves to look at you.

“what’s up?” you call back with a sweet smile on your face, having absolutely no problem taking care of him in this vulnerable state. honestly, you felt honored that he trusted and asked for you specifically.

“i love you,” his voice is shaky and you almost don’t hear him with how quietly he says it.

you’re sure he doesn’t mean it in the way you want him too, so you brush him off with a soft laugh and allow your hand to rub his back soothingly. “love you too, rafe.”

“no,” he groans as he rolls to face you better, “i love you. like i know i shouldn’t cause you’re a pogue or whatever the fuck, but i love you and i can't stop thinking about you when i'm not with you. i want us to be more than this.”

you blink at him in shock, your face clad in an expression he’s unable to read that nearly sends him face first into the trashcan. he’s almost positive he ruined everything.

“are you being serious right now, rafe?”

“yes, i’m sick of walking on eggshells, i just-“ he sighs deeply, “i can't even look at other girls anymore because none of them are you.”

“i love you too, rafe,” you could cry at the confession, eyes watering and hands trembling, “i have for a while now. i just didn’t think you would feel the same way.”

“you really couldn’t tell?” he raises a brow at you.

“i guess i was in denial,” you shrug with a breathy laugh. “what do we do now?”

“well, i guess now i ask you to be my girlfriend,” rafe smiles at you, his cheeks flushed and his eyes glossy from the alcohol.

“you sure you don’t wanna wait until you’re not drunk anymore?”

“i won’t regret it, i promise,” he holds a pinky out to you, gesturing for you to hook yours with his.

you do, and he brings it up to his lips, kissing it gently.

“y/n l/n, will you be my girlfriend?”

“rafe cameron, i absolutely will.”

he sits up slowly as to not upset his stomach, and kisses you gently, one hand cupping the side of your face as the other one steadies him. he pulls away just enough to whisper, “thank you for taking care of me.”

“i always will,” you peck his lips before checking the time. “you hungry ? some places are still open, i could run and grab you something.”

“god, you’re an angel, woman.”

-> back to masterlist

#follower celebration #rafe cameron #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron fluff #fanfic #fanfiction

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bqstqnbruin · 3 days ago

Text

Christmas Crashing

I'm taking a break from my regularly scheduled Swayman programming for a different fic where I'm actually not mean with the ending????? Who would have thought I could do that

ANYWAY this is for @wyattjohnston's winter fic exchange, and I got to write for the absolutely amazing @laurenairay! We're ignoring that it's more than the week after Christmas but oh well

Also shoutout to @nicohischier for letting me yell about this and reading this while I scared her ily

Warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, I actually gave you a happy ending?????

WC:8890

Flashbacks are in italics

______________________________________

“What are you saying?”

“That I’m done.”

“That we’re done,” he clarifies for her.

She can feel her chest start to tighten, a lump forming in her throat. “Yeah.”

Mimi hangs up without letting him get in another word, telling herself that she didn’t want to let him listen to the first sob that came out of her. She couldn’t read the text that he had sent trying to make sense of what just happened, telling her that he loved her and knew she loved him, that he wanted to figure this out and get through whatever was going on.

________________________

“You should totally post this photo,” Stella tells her, her mouth hanging open while she stared at Mimi’s phone screen.

“Are you sure?” Mimi leans over her friend's shoulder, trying to look at Stella’s handiwork. Mimi was facing the arena, the back of the jersey her mom got her for Christmas a couple of years ago on full display as she looked back over her shoulder, her ponytail covering part of Hischier’s name.

“Babe, you look so hot.” Stella opens up Mimi’s account, drafting up a post for her roommate.

Mimi tries to snatch the phone from her before she could do anything, her taller friend holding the phone over her head while people around them filter into the arena, probably thinking these two girls outside were acting ridiculous. They were, but that wasn’t going to stop Mimi.

Stella manages to get the picture posted, despite Mimi saying she wasn’t sure. “You look hot, shut up and let everyone see it.”

“You’re the worst.”

“And you love me anyway.”

They go into the game, Mimi ignoring the notifications that were coming up on her screen from Instagram despite the ego boost she denied they gave her. She could have spent the entire game on her phone, just scrolling through notifications and making her head bigger than it should be.

“So?” Stella asks after the first period when the two of them head to the concourse to get food. “Was I right?”

Mimi had her phone in her hand, showing Stella her screen and scrolling for what seemed like forever to the end of the notifications she had yet to open. “Fine.”

“Tell me I was right,” Stella gloats.

Mimi rolls her eyes. “This kind of shit is why I broke up with Sofia, if you remember.”

“You broke up with her because she was an awful girlfriend in general, not because she was right more often than you were.” Mimi ignores her, continuing to scroll through the notifications while Stella looks over her shoulder. “Wait, woah, go back.”

Mimi scrolls back down, waiting for Stella to tell her to stop. “There’s no way.”

Stella starts jumping up and down, trying not to bring too much attention to them this time. “Did he comment on your photo?”

“Did you tag him in the photo?”

Stella smirks. “There’s no harm in trying.”

“I can’t believe you.”

“What does it say?”

“No.”

“It has to say more than just, ‘no.’”

“No, I mean,” Mimi says, moving up in the line. “I’m not gonna read it here.”

“Why not?” Stella whines.

“What if he thinks the picture is weird to tag him in? I don’t want to see that while he’s literally on the ice,” she says in a hushed voice.

“What if he doesn’t?”

“I don’t want to read it.”

The game ends, Stella somehow gaining full control over Mimi’s phone as the two of them head out to a bar after a quick pit stop at home to change, despite Mimi’s protest for wanting to stay home and read her book instead. Her bed was right there, after all.

“Go do your thing,” Stella says, heading off to find a table for the two of them while Mimi tries to secure drinks.

“Hey,” Mimi approaches one guy, pulling out a trick that she got from one of her books. “Buy me a drink if I beat you at tic-tac-toe.”

The guy looks perplexed, agreeing while his friends root him on, Mimi grabbing a napkin from the bar counter and pulling a pen out of her bag. She normally won, considering the fact that the guys were normally too drunk by the time she got to them to think straight enough to play the game.

This time was no different. She won easily.

“What do you want?” the guy asks, his friends making fun of him for losing and putting him in a foul mood.

“Vodka Sour,” she asks for Stella’s drink.

She gets the drink and leaves before he can say or do anything else, heading back to Stella with her drink in hand.

“Free?”

“Free,” she confirms, seeing her phone in Stella’s hands. “What are you doing?”

Stella smirks, a facial expression that makes her nervous. “Nothing.”

Mimi nods. “I’m gonna try and find another guy.”

She heads back to the bar, scanning for another person she could get a drink from. She sees a guy talking to a friend, looking nervous. He looked sweet. Maybe she could actually talk to him and bring his friend over for Stella, too.

“Want to play tic-tac-toe?” she asks him, the guy looking like a deer in headlights. “Winner buys drinks?”

“I’ll play,” she hears behind her, the two guys eyes getting wide as they stare at the person. “Mimi, right?”

“Nico?”

He smiles at her, taking a step closer and reaching over her shoulder to grab a napkin. He brushes against her, sending a shock through her body. “Let’s play.”

________________________

Mimi gets to baggage claim, trying her best to ignore the fact that she was supposed to be here with Nico, not by herself, as she gets home for Christmas. He wasn’t even going to be with her for that long because of his schedule, but it was supposed to be something, at least. He knew Christmas was her favorite holiday, her favorite time of year, and instead of being with her like he was supposed to be, he was back in New Jersey.

“Emilia,” she hears her mom calling her name, way louder than she needed to be since there were only about five other people around the carousel, the airport surprisingly empty considering it was December 23rd. Her mother came running up to her, practically tackling her into the bags that were starting to roll around as her father sighed, grabbing Mimi’s bag.

“Where’s Gram?” Mimi asks. Every single time she came home, without fail, no matter what time of day it was, her grandmother was always there to see her when she got off the plane.

“She’s with Uncle Sam in New York for this Christmas, remember?” Mimi nods, not remembering the conversation her mother goes on to claim they had weeks ago. It was weird that her grandmother wasn’t there. “Where’s Nico?”

Mimi hesitates, another thing that was wrong. She hadn’t told her parents yet. She didn’t know how to. “His practice schedule changed at the last minute, so he had to stay back. He’s going to let me know later if he’s going to be able to come out here.”

Her father nods, incredibly indifferent. Despite how much he seemed to adore Nico, he would rather have less people around the house so he didn’t get overstimulated when he was cooking. More people meant more food he had to keep track of.

Her mother on the other hand. “Oh, no. He’s not coming? But we haven’t seen him in so long. What if we Facetime him, tell him we can pay for the ticket for him to come. Where’s your phone?”

Mimi swats off her mother’s hand, trying to follow her dad out to their car so she could go home and go to sleep. “Mother, money is not the problem, I promise. He can’t help his practice schedule,” she lies.

Her mother continues to fret, walking to the car going on and on about how she wished she had known so she didn’t spend all the extra time preparing for Mimi’s boyfriend to come home with her. Mimi lets out a sigh, climbing into the backseat as her father loads her bags into the trunk.

________________________

“Where are we going?” Mimi asks, climbing into Nico’s passenger seat once his car pulls to a stop in front of her building.

He smirks, leaning across the center console, giving her a kiss, one hand on the wheel with another cupping her face. “It’s a surprise.”

“That’s what someone would say before they dump the body,” Mimi jokes as Nico pulls away from the curb.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Mimi,” Nico groans, Mimi noticing the smile on his face regardless of his tone. They had been dating for about a month now, spending more time with him than she spent with Stella despite the fact they lived together. It wasn’t her fault; she couldn’t say no to him when he asked her to do something, no matter what it was.

Mimi shrugs, a teasing look on her face. “Think about it, it would be perfect to take me to some far off location to commit a felony when I have no idea where we’re going.”

“Stella has your location.”

“You could steal my phone.”

Nico rolls his eyes. “Mimi, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Then where are we going?”

“Can’t I surprise you? Please?” he begs, his tone turning a little more serious.

She sighs, staring out the window as he drives away from the city in an attempt to hide the smile on her face. “I guess.”

The snow on the ground became more pristine the longer he drove, untouched and perfect as they got away from the more densely populated area they lived in. The trees lining the streets made her wish she lived out here, giving that illusion of serenity that you couldn’t get in the city.

Nico pulled off the road to follow a gravel path, lined with a wooden fence on either side, just barely wide enough for the car to fit down.

“This is definitely the perfect place for a murder,” Mimi jokes.

“Jeez,” Nico sighs. “We’re doing something fun.”

Mimi sees the sign in front of her as Nico starts to slow down, a Christmas tree farm in front of them. She looks at Nico, who was already staring at her with a smile on his face. “So?”

“We’re getting a tree?” Mimi said, feeling herself getting giddy as she unbuckled her seatbelt, practically jumping out of the car.

Nico joins her, taking his hand in hers and leading her closer to the plethora of trees in front of them. “You said you used to love going with your dad and cutting down the perfect tree when you were younger. These are pre-cut, but I figured you could help me pick out the perfect one for my place.”

________________________

“You already have the tree up?” Mimi asks, her heart dropping when she walks into her parents house, seeing what was supposed to be a tradition between her and her dad already there. They never got the tree this early. And they certainly never had it already decorated with lights.

“Mimi,” her mother starts as she beelines for the tree.

“It’s not even real.” Her mouth hangs open as she examines the fake, plastic monstrosity before her, the lights on the tree because it came prelit. “You got a fake tree.”

“Donohue retired.” Mimi stared at her dad, the sad look in his eyes mirroring her own. “There was nowhere to get a real tree this year.”

Mimi nods, knowing it was stupid to get upset over something so trivial, that feeling that something . “We still have all our ornaments, right?”

Her mother comes over to her, putting her arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “You think we could get rid of those?”

________________________

“What are you doing today?” Nico’s voice comes through Mimi’s phone.

“Nothing.”

“Now you’re not.” Mimi could hear his smile. “I’m picking you up in five minutes.”

Mimi hangs up without another word, rushing to get ready for him.

He knocks on her door moments later, coat in hand with plastic bags full of stuff there with him. “Hi,” he says, using his free hand to pull her in for a kiss.

“Hi.” She looks at the bags in his hands, trying to suss out why he had craft supplies with him. “What’s all this?”

“Well,” he starts, pushing past her and heading for her kitchen table, placing the bags down and starting to clear the surface off. “After we got my tree, I realized I don’t have anything to put on it.”

Mimi watches him taking out everything from the bags; paint, markers, stencils, scissors, paper, pipe cleaners; it looked like he raided the store purge style for everything you could possibly think of. “And?”

He organizes everything into piles in front of them, gesturing to his haul. “I thought we could make some ornaments together.”

Mimi laughs, her heart fluttering as Nico beams at her. “How good are you at arts and crafts?”

Nico smirks. “Horrible. You?”

“Awful.”

“Then this will be fun.”

________________________

“Hey, what time is Celeste getting here?” Mimi asks as she hangs up one her ‘Baby’s First Christmas’ Ornament as high as she could, something she has done every year since she could walk. Her sister was supposed to be getting in before she did if her memory served her correctly.

Her parents exchange looks behind her back, thinking Mimi didn’t catch them. “She got snowed in.”

“What?” she asks, nearly dropping the ornament her great-grandmother made. “So when is she going to get here?”

“The snow isn’t supposed to clear until tomorrow.”

“So she should be able to get here tomorrow, then?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Mimi screams. This was an overreaction on her part, but it was now the third thing that had been wrong with this Christmas, on top of Nico breaking up with her right before she was getting on the plane. “Celeste has to come to Christmas. Where else will she go?”

“She would be with Quinn and his family, I would assume,” her mother says, referring to her sister’s fiance.

Mimi just nods, knowing there was nothing she could do to control it. That didn’t mean she couldn’t still feel upset about it.

The rest of the day feels like a blur, a weird emptiness knowing her sister wasn’t going to be showing up like she was supposed to, her grandmother was spending Christmas on the other side of the country, and the tree wasn’t real like it had been for as long as she could remember.

That and she kept checking her phone, expecting a text from Nico to show up on her screen, despite the fact that he hadn’t texted her in weeks.

“Hey, Emilia,” her dad pulls her out of her trance, standing in front of her with the car keys. “Want to run out and grab some things with me?

________________________

“Stop bouncing your leg, you’re shaking the car,” Nico reaches over and presses down on Mimi’s thigh, trying to get her to stop.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, sinking further into his passenger seat. She looks out the window, snow everywhere, less and less cars on the road as they get to the cabin Nico’s friends rented out for the weekend. They had a rare break between games without so much as a practice (according to Nico, this was unheard of), so some of his friends took the opportunity to get away from home for a while and just relax somewhere else.

It looked like Nico was driving her into her death.

It was worse, actually. She had to meet new people and interact with them without anywhere to retreat.

“Our room is the only one on the top floor if they get to be too much,” Nico says, reading her mind. “They’re going to love you.”

They had just had the ‘what are we conversation,’ where Nico let her know that he considered her to be his girlfriend a while ago. Apparently, Nico’s entire team had been referring to Mimi as Nico’s girlfriend for the last month. It was time to actually meet them, and Mimi felt like she would rather run out into the wilderness and disappear with the bears.

Mimi lets out a deep breath as he turns down the road the GPS told him to turn down. This couldn’t be that bad, could it?

As soon Nico pulled up in front of the cabin, the car seemed to be surrounded by his teammates, screaming about god only knows what and opening every door despite not needing to.

“You said you were bringing the beer,” Luke whines.

“I did,” Nico deadpans. “You’re barely old enough to drink, calm down.”

“Luke, go back inside,”Jack says, reaching up and trying to mess with Luke’s hair. Luke stomps back inside, Mimi hearing him muttering something about being treated like a child. “He’ll be fine.”

“I told you not to bring him,” Nico says, handing his teammate the aforementioned case of beer. “He’s too young.”

“Ok, Dad,” he says, Nico rolling his eyes. “You know as well as I do that I couldn’t leave him home when all of us were here.”

Nico hands Mimi her bag from the trunk once she gets out of the car, taking her hand in his and leading her into the cabin. “That’s Jack and Luke.”

Mimi nods, recognizing them from long before she and Nico even started dating. Nico, for some reason, had a habit of forgetting that she actually knew the sport and the team well enough, growing up with her dad being a fan of them since they were in Kansas City and passing it onto her as they relocated to Devner, then to East Rutherford. She probably knew more about the Devils as a franchise because of her father than Nico did as captain.

They get inside, the heat hitting Mimi’s face. The inside of the cabin was beautiful, the walls entirely made of wood with light fixtures that looked like oil lamps attached to the walls. Thankfully, there were no dead animals stuck to the walls as she had feared, but a huge TV mounted in front of the couches, playing none other than an NHL game on the screen.

“There’s Dawson, Jesper, and Nate,” Nico points, the three guys waving to them.

Mimi pulls Nico aside. “I thought you said they were bringing their partners, too.”

Nico blinks at her. “None of them are seeing anyone.”

“So it’s just you, me, and your teammates?”

Nico nods. “Yeah, of course.”

Mimi nods slowly, biting the inside of her cheek. “I think I’m going to head up to our room.”

Mimi layed on the bed she and Nico were going to share in the cabin, trying to read while Nico and his teammates were screaming downstairs, clearly already drunk despite them only being there for two hours. This wasn’t how the weekend was supposed to go. She was supposed to meet his teammates and their partners as Nico had told her, so she wouldn’t be alone with the guys.

It’s not that she didn’t think she would have fun, it’s just not what she was expecting.

She hears a knock on the door as she stares up at the ceiling, her book laying facedown, open, on her chest. She was making no progress. Nico pokes his head in before she can say anything. “Can we talk?”

Mimi nods, sitting up and marking her place in her book.

“You’re mad at me.” Nico sits down on the bed by her feet.

She sighs. “I’m not mad.”

“But you aren’t happy with me.”

“I’m annoyed that you didn’t tell me what I was getting into this weekend.”

“What can I do to make it up to you?” Nico pleaded with her. The look on his face made her chest ache, knowing that he actually wanted to do that.

Mimi exhales. “Give me,” she hesitates. “Like an hour?”

“Ok.” Nico nods. She stares at him for a second, neither of them moving while the sound of his teammates laughter rings through the house. “Are you not going to go back down?”

“Not without you.”

“I’m just going to sit here and read,” she tells him, giving him a suspicious look.

Nico nods again, shifting to rest his back against the headboard, his arm raised for her to cuddle right into. “That’s fine.”

The two fell into a comfortable silence, Mimi feeling Nico’s eyes on her while she read her book. They stayed that way for two hours, just enough time for Mimi to think of herself as the character in the book falling in love with the man she was going to spend her life with.

________________________

The two of them drive in silence, Mimi not really caring where they were going. She keeps resisting the urge to check her phone, knowing that she would see her background instead of any notification she would actually care about.

“So, kid,” her father starts, pulling into the grocery store parking lot. “Nico isn’t coming, is he?”

Mimi looks out the window, pursing her lips and shaking her head. “No.”

“Are you two alright?”

“No.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

He parks the car, sitting there for a moment. “Ok. Let’s go in.”

“What are we doing here, anyway?” The two of them walk through the aisles, her dad pushing a carriage with the loudest wheel possible. He had a talent for picking out the most rickety one every time, somehow not caring and not getting annoyed as he shopped.

He starts pulling things from the shelves, ingredients Mimi recognized as being for her favorite ricotta cookies, the recipe that had been passed down through her family from her great-great-grandparents. “Mom thought it would be fun to make these again this year.”

Mimi smiles, looking at his cart to see what he still needed that she could grab. The last thing he needed, the most important ingredient, was the ricotta. She heads over to the cheese, scouring the case for the right one.

“Any luck?” her father appears behind her, seeing the frown on her face. She shakes her head, staring at the case. They had to have the ricotta. They couldn’t make ricotta cookies without it. Her father flags down an employee.

They shrug, shoving their hands in their jean pockets. “If it’s not out here, we must be out. The trucks haven’t been coming in with everything lately.”

Mimi looks at her dad as the employee stalks away. “What do we do?”

Her dad shrugs, staring at the cart. “We can check another store later, but I guess we can’t make them tonight.”

________________________

The first snowfall of the year happened abnormally early; in October, actually. The last time Mimi remembered an October snowstorm was around 2010, when she was eleven. That resulted in most of her life getting shut down for the week, but at least she didn’t have to go to school.

Mimi remembered staying in while her father cleared the driveway, her and Celeste sitting at the door near the back porch and staring towards the sky while the snow fell toward them, pretending that they were being transported to a different winter wonderland that wasn’t their backyard. Their mother would make mac and cheese and turn on a movie for Celeste while Mimi curled up on the couch, cuddling with her mother while she read whatever book she could get her hands on. The hot chocolate always came later, with extra marshmallows.

As she got older, it meant no school, then no work, but always snuggling on the couch under her warmest blanket, a movie playing in the background while she read with a mug of hot chocolate next to her.

She sits down on her couch, getting ready to spend the day not moving when someone is buzzing her apartment to come up, a text from Nico letting her know it was him.

“What are you doing here?” she asks when she opens her door.

He smiles at her, making her heart skip a beat as he bends down to kiss her. “Practice and the game got cancelled tonight, I thought I would stop by since your location said you were home.”

“Oh,” she lets out, cringing at the disappointment that she heard come through her voice. She watched Nico’s smile falter.

“Do you want me to go?”

Mimi looked out the window, watching the snow fall even harder than it had just mere minutes ago, Nico already covered in snow as it was. “No, no, it’s not safe for you.”

Nico nods, unsure what to do.

“I was just about to read my book,” Mimi says, taking his hand and leading him in.

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed. “I thought we could just kinda,” his voice trailed off, his eyes flicking back and forth between her and the hallway leading to her bedroom. “But that’s fine. You can read your book.”

“I do this every snow day,” Mimi tries not to whine, sitting down on her couch and clutching her book.

Nico exhales, nodding. “That’s fine,” he repeats, clearing his throat. “What else do you do?”

Nico sits down next to her, Mimi pulling her book closer to her chest. “I just,” she starts, feeling her heartbeat rising for no reason that she could think of.

“Hey, hey,” Nico coos, gently bringing her into his chest. He kissed the top of her head, one hand rubbing her back while the other rested on her lap. “I can leave. If you don’t want me here, I will leave. If it’s not safe to go I will just sit in the hallway.”

Mimi lets out a strangled laugh, picturing him playing games on his phone while he posted up outside her door, probably staying there until one of her neighbors ventured out of their place and called someone to come take away the man sitting outside an apartment he didn’t live in. “I put on a movie in the background and then just sit with my blanket and read it.”

“Can I join you?”

“You want to watch the movie or do you want a book?” Nico shifts, getting up and heading down the hall to her room. “That’s not an answer,” she calls after him.

He comes back, waving a book in his hands. “I’ll read and then if I get bored, I’ll fall back on the movie.”

Mimi stares at the book he picked, her heart swelling in her chest. “That’s my favorite book.”

“I know. That’s why I want to read it again.”

________________________

Mimi and her father finally get home, the one missing ingredient for some reason impossible to find and the remaining groceries unable to be left in the car for much longer without ruining them, too.

“I’ll head out in the morning again and see if I can find it,” her dad tries to reassure her when he pulls into the driveway.

She heads inside to her old room. Every little thing has gone wrong so far, it seemed, but why should it bother her? She was going to be with her family at Christmas, something she hadn’t really been able to do the last few years because of work. Her sister might not be here,or her grandmother, or her boyfriend, but still with her parents.

Her ex-boyfriend.

Staring at the walls of the room she grew up in, seeing the posters from the musicals that she was in when she was in middle school and high school taped above her bed, the game-day posters from the games she went to with her dad as a child surrounding her closet, the awards she won for various random clubs and activities she did in order to go to college where she did above her bookcase.

Mimi thinks back to her packing job, trying to remember what books she brought with her for the trip. She had the one she read while she was in the airport and on the plane, but she finished that right before her plane landed, putting that back in her bag and spending the rest of the time in the air logging the book rather than starting another one. Did she even bring another one?

She remembers plugging in her e-reader before she started packing, but did she ever unplug it and pack it? She texts Stella to check and unplug it so she doesn’t murder her prized possession while away.

“Mom,” Mimi yells, not waiting for any acknowledgement. “What books do you have?”

“Check our bedroom,” she hears, heading to the bookcase that’s against the wall.

“I’ve read all of these,” she yells back, trying not to let a whining tone come through her voice. And she actually had. Most of her parents were her old books that she had read that she gave to them, or that she bought separate copies of for them. The books her parents got on their own somehow found their way into Mimi’s hands, leaving her with nothing.

Her mom appears in the doorway, a concerned look on her face while she watches her daughter stare defeated at the books. She checks her watch, grabbing her wallet from her closet. “Take my library card and check out what you want. They’re still open for another hour or so.” Mimi takes the card and stares at it. She wasn’t even sure if this was allowed. Wasn’t it some sort of fraud to use someone else’s library card? “I have a book on hold, I’ll call them and let them know they can give it to you. Go.”

Mimi gets pushed out the door and handed the keys, faster than she can even process what was going on.

She hadn’t been inside her hometown library since she was in high school, everything still exactly the same except for the self check out computers they added for when the librarians were busy. They had set up a holiday book display, Mimi beelining there in hopes of finding anything that could potentially put her in a better mood.

Mimi picks up a book with two girls on the cover, some sapphic holiday romance that had been on her radar since October when someone she followed on social media had posted about it.

“Emilia?” She snaps away from the book to see a guy standing in front of her, someone who she swore looked familiar but couldn’t, for the life of her, remember why she knew him. “Niall Walsh.”

The guy she went to junior prom with. Shit, he looked good. “Of course, how are you?” she asks him, trying to sound enthusiastic about seeing him. She just needed to get books and go home.

“Good, good. You’re still out in New Jersey?”

They fall into a stupid conversation, Mimi trying to back away and find more books for her stay. She needed at least three to survive the holiday.

“A bunch of us are heading to the green later to skate, you should join us,” Niall offers, starting to list off people from high school Mimi hadn’t kept in touch with.

“That sounds so nice, but I’ve gotta help my mom with stuff for the holidays.”

Niall finally says goodbye with his books in hand, letting her know that she was still welcome to join if she had the time.

She didn’t want to go ice skating. It made her think of Nico.

________________________

“For fucks sake,” Mimi huffs, kicking the door open. “Next time we want to move, we’re not doing it in the middle of winter, and we aren’t doing it in the middle of your season.”

Nico laughs, getting up from the couch and grabbing the box from her. They had been together for over a year, finally making the decision to move in together. “Both of our leases were up and you would hate moving in the summer, too.”

“I’m somehow sweating and freezing. This is awful.”

“How many more boxes are in your car?”

“All my books.”

“There’s no way you fit all of those in your car.”

Mimi makes a face, taking Nico’s hand and dragging him back downstairs. “Stella might also be there with her car full of my books.”

Nico sighs with a lazy smile on his face, puts his arm around her and pulls her close as they walk outside and kisses the side of her head. “That’s my girl.”

“You have too many fucking books,” Stella mutters, opening her trunk. “I nearly died because I couldn’t see out my windows.”

“You were probably fine,” Nico deadpans, checking his phone. “Jack and Luke said they’ll be here in an hour with the truck.”

“You’re meeting them back at our place?”

“My place.”

“Your place.” The two stare at each other, the gravity of Mimi moving out just about to hit them.

Nico clears his throat, hoping to distract them long enough that they can have their moment inside rather than out on the street. “Let’s get these books inside before it gets dark out.”

The girls unload the cars, boxes upon boxes of books being brought up to the new apartment and placed haphazardly throughout the space.

“Where are all of these going, anyway?” Stella huffs, setting down a book that Mimi had labelled as ‘Fantasy,’ meaning that all of her biggest books were stuffed in there.

“We have the second bedroom that we’re turning into a reading space,” Nico says.

Stella nods. “Well,” she straightens her back, all of them feeling the pain of moving too many boxes. “I’m going to go back and meet the idiots for the rest.” She leaves before the girls can say anything else to each other, both of them avoiding the fact that they wouldn’t be living together anymore after nearly seven years. They were so close to having a common law marriage.

Mimi looks at Nico, staring at all the boxes scattered around them. “We have to unpack these.”

Nico smiles at her. “I have a better idea.”

Mimi eyes him curiously, watching him head to one of the closets that she still wasn’t sure held, Nico pulling things out. “Ice skates?” she asks, staring at the two pairs in his hands.

“There’s a pond that’s frozen over behind the building, we can take a break before it gets dark.��

“We’ve never gone skating before,” Mimi points out. “You don’t even know if I can.”

Nico hands her the pair meant for her, taking her hand and grabbing his keys as they head out. “You’re probably better than me.”

“Obviously. You’re pretty shit at skating, aren’t you?” she teases him.

Nico laughs. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

________________________

“Did you leave any books for other people?” her dad teases her when she comes back through the door.

“There’s still all the books written by Republicans.”

“Do they know how to write books?”

Mimi hears her mother scold him for that one, trying to stifle her own laugh so she isn’t scolded as well. “I have enough books for the time that I’m here. I think. Don’t worry.”

Mimi heads up to her room, flopping down on her bed with a book open in her hand. She didn’t need anyone else to be here for it to be Christmas for her. She could just be with her parents and whatever other family they had coming over this year.

She reads her book, a group of friends going to one of their parents' houses for the holidays because none of them have anywhere else to do until they realize that two of them were not only together previously, but one had left the other at the altar.

Mimi sits up straight on her bed, shutting the book as fast as she could. She had to stop going into books blind. Every time, without fail, they reminded her of the things that were going wrong in her life.

________________________

“When do we have to leave?” Nico asks, his arms wrapped around Mimi as they lay in bed, the snow falling outside and coating the window, his bare chest against hers.

Mimi hums, turning herself to nestle into his shoulder. She didn’t want to leave this moment. “Our flight is at noon.”

Mimi was heading home for Thanksgiving this year, bringing Nico home with her for the first time. Her parents had met him before, but this was her whole family now. They had been dating for two years at this point, living together for almost a year, and at this point, they both decided it was time to meet her family.

It was terrifying.

“Ugh, shit,” Nico groans, letting go of her and getting out of bed. “I need to shower, then.”

Mimi lays in their bed for a few moments, trying to fathom taking a boy home with her. Not just any boy, but the one she lived with, the one she loved.

One of the phones on the nightstand makes some noise, Mimi hearing the shower starting in the bathroom. She reaches over for the one lit up, not sure whose she was grabbing.

Her mom’s first name came up as the contact sending a message.

“Nico, my mom is texting you.”

She hears something fall in the shower. “You can just leave it,” he yells back, a weird tone in his voice.

Why would her mom be texting him? Normally, she texted both of them in a group chat that included her father, Celeste, and Quinn, regardless of who she actually needed to talk to. Her mom never even texted her separately, even on her birthday.

Mimi knew Nico’s passcode. She could just open his phone and look at what they were talking about.

But why would she do that? Mimi shook her head, putting the phone back on the nightstand and started to get ready, pushing the thought of Nico and her mom talking about something that she couldn’t know about from her mind every time it popped up.

They had to focus on finishing up the last of their packing and getting to the airport, which they had less than an hour to get to, at this point.

“Babe, hurry up,” she yells, throwing the last things they needed in their bags, Nico still in the bathroom fucking around. “We need to leave, like, five minutes ago.”

“I’m good, I’m ready,” he says, emerging from the bathroom, his hair still soaked. “And we have plenty of time before we need to leave.” He grabs his phone, Mimi seeing him open the text from her mom and a smile growing on his face.

________________________

Mimi finishes one book and quickly moves onto the next, losing track of time. The last thing she remembered, the SecUnit was freaking out about dying and not saving its humans.

Next thing she knows, it’s three am, her lights are still on, her book is still in her hand miraculously with her page saved by her finger, and something was making noise downstairs. Actually, someone.

Mimi practically launches herself out of bed, finding the kitchen lights on and her sister checking the fridge. “What the fuck?” she breathes out, grabbing Celeste into a hug.

“Hi, to you, too,” Celeste laughs, Quinn in the background going through cabinets. “We need food.”

“I thought your flight couldn’t come in?”

“Quinn here drove us.”

“From Vancouver?”

Quinn shrugs, the normal sullen look on his face made even worse from the exhaustion of the long drive. “Celeste had to get here.”

“Yeah,” she says, taking Mimi’s hand and leading her to the kitchen table. “How are you?” She had called her sister almost immediately after it happened to tell her.

“Good.” Celeste gives her that look that tells her she knows it’s a lie. “Fine.” Another look. Mimi sighs, letting out the words she hadn’t said out loud to anyone. “I miss him.”

________________________

Her family loved Nico.

Her little cousins flocked to him, her aunts and uncles raved about how easy he was to talk to. Celeste nearly drooled over him despite Quinn standing right next to him and her having seen him plenty of times on TV. Her parents, Mimi was sure, wished he was their actually child. They would trade Mimi for three mini cans of soda and a bag of corn chips if it meant Nico was their son.

Mimi was watching Nico play with her youngest cousin, Vivianna, as she showed Nico all the dolls she brought with her and told him about all of them in that high-pitched toddler babble she was probably going to have grown out of by Christmas. Her chest ached at the sight of his smile at Vivianna, finding herself daydreaming about him with their own kid one day.

“Hey,” her mom pulls her out of her trance. “Can you go grab my phone on my nightstand? It has the recipe for the mac and cheese and I need to take out the turkey in a second.”

“Got it.”

She heads upstairs to her parents room, finding the phone, an unread message notification from Nico from a couple of hours ago on the screen. She was looking for the recipe, not the messages. It was saved in her mother’s notes app, and that was all she needed to look for.

But her mom told her to get her phone. She could see the messages and then just ‘unread’ the one Nico had sent her.

No. That was crazy. What was she even worried about? Her mom and Nico haven’t some sort of illicit affair? That would never happen.

She shakes her head of the thought. She was going crazy over nothing. Mimi unlocks her mothers phone, expecting to find her home screen with all her apps, her notes app in the bottom left hand corner of the main dock.

Instead it opened right to Nico’s messages.

Mimi couldn’t help herself. She scrolls up to the last few messages, her mom for some reason either not replying to him or deleting all of her messages to him, leaving only what Nico sent.

It was links upon links of engagement rings.

And she hated every single one of them.

“Mimi,” her mother yells up the stairs. “Did you find my phone?”

Shit. “Yeah,” she sets the message back to being unread and pulls up the notes app just as her mom appears in the doorway. “Here, sorry. I grabbed Dad’s phone instead.”

Her mother eyes her suspiciously, looking at the other nightstand where the other phone sat. “No problem, let’s head back down stairs. Nico was looking for you.”

Nico.

________________________

“I think you should call him,” Celeste says, ignoring the fact that Quinn was falling asleep in the chair next to her. Actually, Mimi was sure that he was already asleep.

Mimi shakes her head. “He wanted to propose, to get married, to spend our lives together and he didn’t even know what kind of ring I liked? He doesn’t know me.”

“You’re an idiot,” Celeste sighs.

“You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“No, I’m supposed to call you out when you’re being a fucking dumbass.”

“What did I do wrong here?”

“Mimi, the ring is not important.” Celeste reaches across the table and takes her sister's hands. “You love Nico and he loves you. You guys talked about getting married, didn’t you? The ring can be changed, but if you wait too long, it might not be Nico who gives it to you.”

Before Mimi can respond, Quinn stirs and startles the sisters, shifting on the table. He sits up, his forehead bright red from where he was resting. “Can we go to bed?” he mumbles, his eyes still closed.

Celeste helps get him out of the chair. “Yeah, babe.” She leads him out of the kitchen, leaving Mimi sitting there by herself. “Maybe think about calling him tomorrow? Tell him what you saw on our mother’s phone and tell him you’re an idiot?”

Mimi laughed at her sister’s bluntness. She had been wanting to call Nico for the last few weeks since she broke up with him. Worst of all, she did it while he was on a road trip and took a bag of things out and back to Stella’s place. She never went and got all her things, all her books.

She heads up to her room, her phone flashing 4:00 am. She had to get to sleep if she wanted to be ready for whatever chaos her family brought with them when they got to their house the next afternoon.

________________________

Mimi was shaking, walking down the street with an overnight bag slung over her shoulder, heading to Stella’s.

Nico was away on a west coast road trip for over a week already, scheduled to come back the next day. She had been keeping him at arm's length since Thanksgiving, since the text messages to her mother. Everything felt weird, between them and Nico had no idea why. Mimi couldn’t talk to him.

Her phone was in her hand, Nico’s number typed from memory ready to call, all she had to do was press the green button. They had talked earlier that morning, when he woke up, but she couldn’t say anything to him.

She goes for it, knowing that she had to say something to him as to why she wasn’t at their apartment when he got home.

“Hey, babe,” he answers groggily after a couple of rings. Mimi takes the phone away from her ear, trying to figure out the time difference. He was at the end of his pre-game nap, just waking up. “What’s up?”

“I’m going to Stella’s.”

“Oh, ok,” she hears him say, the ruffling of sheets as he sits up. He yawns, Mimi able to picture him stretching as he does so. “Are you guys doing a girl’s night?”

“No, um, I’m going to move back in with her.” Nico doesn’t say anything, Mimi standing outside her old building, checking to see if the call dropped.

Nico finally clears his throat. “You’re what?”

Mimi could feel the tears coming, trying to hold them back. As soon as she started to cry, she knew he would hear it in her voice. “I can’t do this anymore, Nico.”

“What are you saying?” She hears him getting out of bed, shuffling around the hotel room. He was frantic, things falling over, Nico bumping into things, probably in a panic.

Mimi hesitates. “That I’m done.”

He stops. “That we’re done,” he clarifies for her.

She can feel her chest start to tighten, a lump forming in her throat. “Yeah.”

Stella appears outside, holding the door open for her just as Mimi bursts into tears, bringing her friend in for a hug.

“What happened?”

Mimi can’t get a word out between her crying, feeling ridiculous for doing this on the street. Stella tries to console her, dragging her in the building. “You’re gonna be ok. Stay as long as you need. You’re heading to your parents in a few days, anyway.”

________________________

Mimi woke up to her mother standing over her like she was back in high school and had snoozed her alarm one too many times. “It’s almost noon, are you going to get up?”

“Ugh,” Mimi lets out, swearing in her mind. She jolts out of bed, trying to find all the clothes she had planned to wear that never managed to get unpacked from her bag.

“Everyone gets here in an hour.”

“I know, Mom.” Mimi nearly falls over trying to get her pants on, her mother just standing there watching.

“Anything from Nico?”

Mimi stops, her pajama top in one hand, the sweater she was planning on wearing in the other as she looks at the smirk her mom had on her face. “I just woke up and haven’t looked at my phone yet, I’m not sure.”

Her mother nods. “Just let us know if someone needs to go pick him up at the airport.” She leaves without another word.

Mimi shakes it off, whatever weirdness her mother gave off probably just from the normal anxiety that came with hosting their family for Christmas Eve. Both sides of the family showed up, which meant the most chaos possible for their family. She heads downstairs, going through the motions of helping her father get the food ready, setting the tables, trying to find the bag of toys that had somehow completely disappeared since Thanksgiving that they kept for the little ones.

The doorbell rings, Mimi hearing one of her aunts call that she was letting herself in as she always did, a container of gingerbread cookies with her to hand off to Mimi. The rest of the family starts to filter in, the entire house filled with talking, laughing, screaming, and everyone in a good mood.

Except for Mimi.

“You didn’t call him, did you?” Celeste pulls her aside.

Mimi shakes her head, taking out her phone since she knew Celeste would make her call him now anyway. She types in his number, pressing the call button without hesitating.

“It went right to voicemail.” Mimi knew the color drained from her face, her heart dropping to her stomach. Did he block her?

She tries to pull up his location, the last time his phone registering one being at Newark Airport around the same time Celeste got home. He couldn’t be travelling for hockey.

Celeste bites her lip, a concerned look on her face. “He’s probably just busy. His phone is off.”

“What if I can’t get him back?” Mimi felt like crying, again. She really fucked this up.

Celeste pulls her in for a hug. “Then we figure it out.”

The sisters are interrupted by one of their father’s brothers, yelling something about Quinn being too quiet for the family and how he was sure they would break him out of his shell. Celeste immediately leaves to try to save her boyfriend, Mimi laughing at the image of the poor boy panicking over the anxiety that their family could cause.

The doorbell rings, the rest of the family too loud for anyone but Mimi, who had happened to wander by the door on her way to the kitchen, to hear. She was sure everyone was already there, her mother not mentioning that anyone was going to be late.

She checks through the small window at the top, the angle of the glass distorting any good view of the person she could have. All Mimi could see was brown hair pacing back and forth on the front porch.

Mimi opens the door. “Nico?” Her heart swells as he stops pacing, pulling her in for a hug as she shuts the door, not wanting her family to hear any of their conversation. “What are you doing here?”

He pulls away from her slightly to look at her, his one hand still on her waist and he brushes her hair off her face with the other, tucking it behind her cheek. “You’ve been avoiding my calls, and my texts. Stella, Celeste, and Quinn have all called me or Jack or Luke trying to figure out what happened.”

She sighs, wanting to bury herself in his chest and forget everything ever happened. “I saw the rings you sent my mom.”

“And?”

“I hated them.”

“I knew you would.”

“What?”

Nico laughs, pulling her back into his chest. “I sent those to your mom because I knew at some point, your mom would ask you to pull up something on her phone for her, and I don’t want you knowing what you’re going to get when I do ask you.”

“When you do?”

“When I do ask you, it’ll be perfect for you.”

Mimi doesn’t say anything, pulling him in for a kiss instead. She could feel him smile against her lips, his hands tightening around her waist.

“I do have this for you, though,” Nico pulls away, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a small ring box. “It’s what I’m going to put your ring in.”

Mimi raises her eyebrow at him as he encourages her to open it. “What’s on the lining?” Nico smiles, Mimi staring at the lines and marks. “Holy shit.” Her eyes grow wide when the realization hits her.

“It’s our tic-tac-toe game from the night we met.”

Mimi hugs him, nuzzling his face against his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat as he holds her tight. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Hey, there you are,” Celeste interrupts, the door open with their entire family standing there watching. Mimi felt her face get hot as they all gave the two of them knowing looks. “Look who crashed Christmas.”

#winter fic exchange 2k25 #nico hischier #nico hischier fic #new jersey devils #devils #devils fic #new jersey devils fic #hockey #hockey fic #nhl #nhl fic

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keep-wonwooing · 3 days ago

Text

— Two Boyfriends

synopsis ᝰ.ᐟ

⤷ ˗ˏˋ "I want two boyfriends so i can dress them up like twins!" ˎˊ˗

pairing ᝰ.ᐟ

⤷ idol!seongcheol x chubby fem reader x idol!mingyu

warnings ᝰ.ᐟ

⤷ poly, fluff, & physical touch (can't think of anything)

"Kim Mingyu, get back here!" My yell echoed through the house. My boyfriend of one years and 3 months, Kim Mingyu, who’s also an idol, had taken my PC holder that featured an official photo of Joshua—my bias.

"No! This is supposed to be me, not Joshua hyung!" he whined, hiding behind the couch.

He always whines like this, but normally, he’s fine with it. I don’t know what got into him today.

"Come on, baba, give it back, please?" I pouted, already feeling tired from chasing him around the apartment.

Shaking his head, he bolted upstairs, disappearing from my sight. I sighed and flopped onto the couch.

"I’m home!" I heard the door open, revealing my other boyfriend, Seventeen’s leader, Choi Seungcheol.

"Baby… Mingyu took it again!" I whined, rolling dramatically on the couch.

"Hi there, love," he greeted me warmly, leaning down to kiss my forehead.

Amazing, right? I have both of them as my boyfriends. It all started when I met them at an offline fan meeting.

flashback

⤷ I’m currently on my way to Seventeen’s offline fan meeting, and I’m super excited because this is my first time attending and seeing them up close.

While waiting for the guards to let us in, I’m double-checking all the bags containing the gifts I prepared for the boys.

Finally, the doors opened, and the Carats and I began lining up to keep everything organized. I noticed most of the fans were with their friends, while I stood alone. I’m not great at making friends with strangers, so I stayed quiet.

As I was checking my bags again, I suddenly heard squeals, and then Seventeen started appearing one by one.

I couldn’t help but smile as I saw them waving at us. As a fan finally seeing them up close, I enthusiastically waved back. I caught Hoshi looking at me, and he waved directly at me—I’m sure he noticed the tiger-themed t-shirt I was wearing.

"Say the name!" Seungcheol began, his voice loud and confident.

"Seventeen! Hello, we are Seventeen!" the members chorused, bowing after their greeting.

A staff member handed Seungcheol a microphone so he could speak.

"Good afternoon, Carats! We really appreciate all the effort you made to attend this offline fan meeting, and we hope you’ll enjoy your time with us. Thank you!" he said, looking around the crowd while waving.

Oh my gosh, he’s so handsome in real life! I fanned myself, trying to calm down my blushing face. Who wouldn’t be flustered with these guys standing on stage, looking absolutely fine?

The members finally took their seats, and the staff began assisting some Carats onto the stage. While the first fan interacted with Seungkwan, the other members started engaging with the rest of us in the audience.

"How are you guys feeling today? Isn’t it a little cold?" Dino asked, earning mixed answers of “yes” and “no,” which made him chuckle.

"Yah! I saw a lot of Carats wearing tiger shirts today. Where did you guys buy those?" Hoshi asked, looking amazed.

"Shein!" I answered. I felt embarrassed when I realized I was the only one who replied, while the others just laughed, finding Hoshi adorable.

"Oh?! Really?! How much is it? I’m willing to buy it!" he excitedly said, making the other members laugh.

My number was 21, but they were still on number 4, so it was going to take a while for my turn. We were given five minutes to talk to each member, which I felt was enough time to enjoy the moment.

Am I being delusional, or is Mingyu really looking at me? I waved at him with a smile, not expecting anything, but when he waved back, my cheeks burned, and I quickly broke eye contact.

After an hour, it was finally my turn. I had just finished talking to Seungkwan, Dino, The8, and Jun.

"Thank you so much for this!" Jun said, pointing at the cat plushie with his name on the collar.

"You’re welcome! Bye-bye!" I giggled, waving at him before finally moving on to Hoshi, who had been eyeing my shirt.

"Hey there!" he greeted me, starting to sign my album.

"So earlier, you asked us Carats where we bought our clothes, and I was the one who said Shein," I began, hoping to make the conversation more personal.

"Yes, yes! I really wanted to know where to buy more shirts, especially with that kind of design!" he said with a surprised expression.

"You don’t have to buy anything, though, because I bought you two tiger-themed shirts. I was nervous you might not like them, but I still wanted to give them to you," I said quickly, handing him a bag decorated with a cute tiger cartoon.

"I will definitely keep this bag!" he exclaimed, examining the bag before opening it. The Carats behind us gasped softly, admiring the gesture.

"It’s pretty, Hoshi-yah!" a Carat called out, and he proudly stood up to show it off.

We laughed, and he sat back down, thanking me nonstop. "I guess you’ll want more? I’ll tell you the shop then," I teased, giggling.

The next person was Joshua—my ultimate bias since the first day I started stanning Seventeen. He had always caught my attention.

"Hello, you’re really pretty," Joshua said softly, smiling as he began signing my album.

"You’re even prettier!" I replied, making us both giggle. I handed him a bag with a cinnamon roll plushie and a simple necklace featuring their group picture.

"Woah~ So I really do look like Cinnamon Roll, huh?" he joked, making me laugh and nod.

"Really! You’re both so cute," I replied.

"Oh my gosh, how much is this? I really love it!" he said, admiring the necklace.

While Joshua and I were talking, I felt someone staring at me. I glanced over and saw Seungcheol, who had just finished speaking to another Carat, looking in my direction.

"Thank you so much, really!" Joshua said, before the staff guided me to the next member.

"Hi there," Seungcheol greeted me with a warm, handsome smile.

I was stunned and stuttered when I greeted him back. "H-hello!" I nervously replied, making him laugh.

"How’s it going? Are you having fun?" he asked while signing my album.

"I’m really enjoying it so far! This is also my first time attending an event like this," I said, smiling.

"Woah, really? I’m happy you were able to attend this one," he said sincerely, looking at me with kind eyes.

He slowly held my hand, and I blushed so hard. I had held hands with the other members too, but Seungcheol had this special effect on me. Maybe it’s because he’s one of my bias wreckers.

"Here’s my gift for you!" I said, handing him a cherry hairclip along with one for his dog, Kkuma. "This one’s for you, and this is for Kkuma. I hope she’ll like it."

"She will, I’m sure!" he replied, examining the clips with a warm smile. "Can you put it on for me?" he asked, pointing at his hair.

I nodded quickly, my hands trembling as I clipped it onto his hair. "You look even more handsome with it," I said, smiling shyly.

"Really? I’m glad then," he said, smiling back and gently holding my hands again.

"I hope you guys aren’t too tired with your schedules and are getting enough rest," I sighed and pouted. "I was really worried when I kept seeing articles about you guys being sick."

He patted my head warmly. "Thank you, but don’t worry too much, okay? We’re doing fine right now."

After my conversation with Seungcheol and the other members, Mingyu was the last one I met before stepping off the stage.

"Hi, pretty~" he greeted me with a charming smile, glancing at me briefly before signing my album.

"I have a gift for you," I said, handing him a bag. "It’s a shirt you can use for working out or just as daily wear."

"So, your name is Y/N?" he asked, and I nodded immediately.

"You have a pretty name—just like you," he said, making me blush.

"I... uh... thank you," I stammered.

"I’ll definitely wear this! You’ll see it on my Instagram or in a random Going Seventeen video," he chuckled, holding up the shirt.

"Are you going to the Follow tour concert?" he asked me.

"Yes, I hope so. I’m nervous I won’t be able to get a ticket," I pouted.

"Don’t worry—you’ll get one. And I’ll make sure to find you!" he exclaimed.

"Really? I was planning to get a VIP ticket so I could jump properly to Aju Nice," I joked, making him laugh.

"Time’s up!" the staff announced. I smiled at the staff before bidding goodbye to Mingyu.

---

A few months later, tickets for the Follow tour in Seoul went on sale. I was sweating in my room, juggling three devices, anxiously waiting for my turn. On my laptop, my queue number was 961. I almost cried—I had a real chance to attend!

---

The day of the Follow tour concert arrived, and it was time for the soundcheck. I was so lucky to have a spot near the barricade.

They were performing Don Quixote, and I saw Seungcheol walking toward our side. He stopped for a moment, then ran over to Mingyu, dragging him back to our section and pointing at us.

The Carats behind me cheered loudly as Mingyu smiled widely and waved at me.

---

A few hours later, the concert started with Super. Everyone was screaming their lungs out and singing along. The concert went smoothly, with a few interactions between me and the members—especially Mingyu, who kept coming to our side of the stage.

At one point, he even took my phone, ran around the stage, and recorded videos. I was shocked—who wouldn’t be? My bias had just taken my phone to snap a bunch of selcas with the other members!

During Aju Nice, the members ran freely across the stage. Mingyu handed my phone back to a security guard, pointing at me to make sure I got it.

I thanked both the guard and Mingyu as he walked away, my heart full of gratitude and excitement.

The concert had ended, and I was waiting to leave the venue when a staff member tapped my shoulder. “Excuse me, please follow me.”

I looked around nervously, hoping no one noticed. Luckily, most Carats were too busy chatting to see the guard opening the barricade for me.

I followed her, confused. “Why do you need me? Who are you?” I asked.

“I’m Seungcheol’s manager. He asked me to find you,” she replied, leading me to a door marked Seventeen.

The door opened, and I saw Dino. “Oh! You’re the one who gave me the otter plushie! I brought it today—want to see?” he said excitedly before running off to fetch it.

He remembers me? I thought, stunned.

“Hey, you’re Y/N, right? The one who gave me the necklace with our group picture inside?” Joshua approached me, holding a water bottle.

“Yes, that’s me,” I said, smiling shyly.

He smiled back warmly and gestured for me to enter. Inside, a few staff members were tidying up while the members relaxed.

“Here it is!” Dino returned, proudly showing off the otter plushie.

“And it’s wearing the Dino shirt!” I exclaimed, giggling.

“Ah, you’re here!” Mingyu appeared beside me, flashing his signature grin.

“Well, yes. But why am I here? Shouldn’t you guys be resting?” I asked, puzzled.

He nodded. “We are, but…” Before finishing, he gently took my arm and guided me to the side where Seungcheol was seated, watching us.

“Are you our noona?” Mingyu asked suddenly.

“I’m a ’96 liner, and I share the same birthday as Jun,” I replied with a laugh.

“Really?!” Jun chimed in from across the room, making everyone laugh.

Seungcheol spoke up. “The members and I really appreciated all the gifts you gave us. Some of us are using them, and others are keeping them safe.”

“I’m just glad you liked them,” I replied, still feeling a bit nervous being this close to them.

“Here,” Mingyu handed me a blanket to cover my legs since I was wearing a short skirt.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

Seungcheol continued, “So, we were thinking of inviting you to dinner—if you’re okay with it. No pressure!” He raised his hands reassuringly.

“Oh? I’m fine with it. But is it really okay? I mean, it’s a group dinner, and—”

“Noona, please?” Dino interrupted, giving me puppy eyes.

“It’ll be fun!” Jeonghan added, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

I laughed. “Well, if it’s okay with you guys, then sure. I’ll go.”

The room erupted in cheers, and the members quickly changed so we could leave for dinner early.

---

Dinner

We ended up at a restaurant enjoying pork belly. While the others drank lightly, I stuck to soda since I wasn’t great with alcohol.

I sat between Dino and Jeonghan, playing the famous hongsam game.

“Wow, I’ve only ever watched this in videos, but playing it with you guys is so much fun!” I said, laughing until my stomach hurt.

“Noona got it wrong!” Dino yelled triumphantly.

“Eh? I did?” I asked, confused.

He eagerly explained why, and everyone laughed, telling me to drink my soda as a penalty. I agreed, and we continued playing.

After dinner, Seungcheol paid the bill.

“Seungcheol must be rich!” I teased, making him roll his eyes.

“Aye, don’t be humble!” I added, and the others burst out laughing.

When they offered to drop me off, I initially refused but eventually gave in. I ended up on their bus, heading home.

“Thank you for today,” I said sincerely.

“You’re welcome. The boys really wanted to be friends with you, especially after the fan meeting—Dino in particular,” Jeonghan teased.

“Can we have your number, noona?” Mingyu asked, blushing as the others teased him.

I laughed. “Is it okay?” I asked Seungcheol, who nodded.

“Of course, don’t worry,” he said with a warm smile.

When we reached my stop, I thanked them again and waved goodbye. It wasn’t until I was inside that it hit me: I was now friends with Seventeen, and Mingyu had my number.

---

A Few Months Later

⤷I had grown closer to the boys and often stayed at Seungcheol’s house, where they all lived. Each member had their own room—it was basically a mansion!

“Noona! Seungkwan keeps saying I’m bad at badminton!” Dino whined, sitting beside me.

“Because you are! Right, noona? You saw how I beat him in TTT,” Seungkwan smirked.

“I did, but don’t tease Dino so much!” I laughed.

Suddenly, I remembered something. “Wait! Oh no, my ramen!” I ran to the kitchen and found Mingyu standing there.

“Is this yours, noona?” he asked, pointing at the pot.

I nodded sheepishly. “I forgot because I was watching a K-drama with the guys.”

“Your ramen’s ready. I’ll grab a bowl for you,” he said, opening the cabinet.

“Y/N?” Seungcheol’s voice interrupted us.

I turned to him. “Oppa, why?”

“Can you both come upstairs to the balcony?”

I glanced at Mingyu, who gave me a small smile. “Let’s go,” he said.

As we followed Seungcheol, I yelled back to the others, “Don’t eat my ramen!”

Their smirks told me they probably would.

When we reached the balcony, Seungcheol was already waiting. “What’s wrong? I’m nervous!” I joked, standing between him and Mingyu.

Seungcheol nudged Mingyu. “You should go first.”

Mingyu took a deep breath and looked at me. “Just tell her,” Seungcheol encouraged.

"Why me?" Mingyu whined. "Fine, I'll tell her," Seungcheol sighed.

"I know this might end up awkward, but... me and Mingyu want to confess something to you..." Seungcheol began. "The day we saw you at the fan meeting, we were immediately attracted to your beauty, and we couldn’t wait to have a conversation with you. We were so happy to have the chance to talk to such a beautiful fan. After that, me and the guys couldn’t stop talking about you, especially Mingyu. I told them that we should invite you to dinner if we got the chance, and we immediately took that opportunity after the concert. As time passed, Mingyu and I started to develop a small crush on you. We’ve been hanging out a lot, and now we just wanted to share our feelings with you, hoping it won’t make things awkward if you like one of us."

I couldn’t quite process what he said.

"H-hey, no pressure. If you’re not ready—"

"No," I interrupted, "I mean, uh... how do I explain this? I do like you both too, but I... I don’t know. I don’t want to pick between you two," I nervously said while playing with my fingers.

"I also like you both personally—not just because you two are my biases, but for who you really are. We’ve all become so close, and I was confused about who I liked, but I realized that maybe I just like you both equally..." I confessed.

"Really? Maybe we can make it work?" Mingyu said.

"I don’t understand," Seungcheol said, looking at Mingyu in confusion.

"Well, I’m gonna admit that I find Cheol-hyung attractive—"

I stopped myself from giggling, and Mingyu noticed. He shyly hid his face against my shoulder.

"Aye~ don’t be shy!" I teased.

"Stop it, noona!" He whined.

"Continue, Gyu," we heard Seungcheol say. Even though he was nervous, Mingyu continued.

"Well... yeah, I do find you, hyung, attractive, and might have small feelings for you and noona. So I’m suggesting that we should work it out and try to be in a relationship?" Mingyu continued.

"Ooh! It’s like a poly relationship?" I asked, and Mingyu nodded as an answer.

"I like reading that kind of genre, though, so I guess it’s a good idea. What’s your thought on that?" I said, looking at Seungcheol, who was quietly observing us.

"Well, me and Mingyu already talked about this kind of setup. We were just thinking that you wouldn’t agree and might find it weird," Seungcheol explained, leaning against the railing.

"I don’t find it weird," I replied with a smile. "But what about the boys? I’m scared that their perspective will change towards me when they find out about this," I said, sighing.

"About that, we’ve already talked to them, and they were fine with it. They were actually supportive," Seungcheol reassured me.

I took a deep breath, absorbing everything they just told me. The idea of being in a relationship with both Seungcheol and Mingyu felt like walking into uncharted territory—but it also felt exciting and genuine.

"So... you’re saying the boys are supportive?" I asked cautiously, my fingers fidgeting with the edge of Mingyu’s blanket.

Mingyu nodded, his expression soft and reassuring. "We talked about it because we wanted their blessing before confessing. They even teased us about how nervous we were."

Seungcheol chuckled, the sound easing some of my nerves. "Yeah, Jeonghan especially had a field day with it. He said he ‘saw this coming from a mile away.’"

I couldn’t help but laugh. "That does sound like Jeonghan."

For a moment, we all stood in comfortable silence, the city lights twinkling behind us. Then Mingyu reached out and gently took my hand in his. "Noona, we just want to make you happy. If this setup doesn’t feel right for you, we’ll understand."

Seungcheol nodded in agreement, his gaze steady and sincere. "We care about you too much to push you into something you’re not ready for."

Their honesty and thoughtfulness made my chest tighten with emotion. I realized that what I felt for them wasn’t just a fleeting crush or admiration. It was something deeper, built on trust and genuine connection.

"I..." I hesitated for a moment before meeting their eyes. "I want to try. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know I want to explore it with both of you."

Their faces lit up, Mingyu’s smile bright and Cheol’s soft and comforting. Mingyu pulled me into a playful hug, his excitement contagious. "Noona, you won’t regret this! We’ll make sure of it!"

Seungcheol’s arms wrapped around both of us, his warmth grounding. "Let’s take this one step at a time, together."

And in that moment, surrounded by their laughter and warmth, I knew I had made the right choice.

"So they finally had the guts to tell you?" Jeonghan teased as the three of us headed back downstairs.

"Shut up, hyung!" Mingyu said, making Jeonghan laugh.

- end of flashback -

back to present

⤷"What did he take?" Cheol asked, helping me stand up from the couch.

"My photocard!" I replied.

"Mingyu!" He called, and we saw him poke his head out from the door upstairs. I gave him a smirk after Cheol motioned for him to come down.

"Give it back," Cheol ordered.

"But love!" Mingyu whined before handing it back to me. I hugged him and leaned my head against his chest since he's taller.

"We both know you also have one, right? And it's always in my bag wherever I go," I said, making him nod sheepishly while smiling.

Cheol just laughed at us before dragging us to the kitchen, showing us the food he bought for us.

"Woah!" Mingyu and I exclaimed as we saw the spread.

"Thank you, baby!" I said, pecking his cheek.

"You're welcome, bab," he smiled, caressing my hair.

"Let's eat!" Mingyu cheered, taking the food out of the plastic.

I may or may not do a part 2 of this 😁 please tell me your thoughts about this at the comment section!

#seventeen fluff #seventeen poly #choi seungcheol #seventeen seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fluff #polyamory #polyamarous #seventeen au #seventeen fanfic #mingyu #mingyu x reader #mingyu x oc #mingyu fluff #mingyu fanfic #y/n

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fuck1ng-queen · 2 days ago

Text

Linda

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Rating: free for all

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: new feelings, a bit of alcohol, fluffy

Author comments: first of all: happy new year everyone! i'm here to tell none of this is my fault, blame it on @concretejunglefm for making me think about teaching portuguese (my mother language) for Noah! this became a shameless self insertion, i'm sorry, but i also hope you enjoy lol (and if you never tried pão de queijo before, what are you waiting for?)

It had been a while since you moved to the US. Who would tell you that when you started at a São Paulo’s Bureau of Musical Production, your work would take you so far? You remembered well one of your first big jobs, an international one, making you contact the Americans. That was the way you met for the first time some of the legends of musical production behind hits everyone used to listen to. Furthermore, you were so glad to meet people you admired for defying the conservative concept of people who say that rock and roll is dying.

You showed yourself as a professional, capable person, and soon a proposal was made to you. The payment was way better compared to your job in Brazil, and you had no one there to make you feel forced to stay. Without overthinking, or you would probably give up, you said yes, and now there you were, at the land of Uncle Sam, facing a new language, new habits, and new companions. You missed your job partners and even your difficult boss to deal with, but now you had no one but Bad Omens to work with. Their vocal, Noah Sebastian, was relentless at his work, focused, and with the gift of the gab to conquer what he wanted. And, face the fact, he conquered you too. He was a great work partner, making you feel welcome and accepted.

It was a hot summer night, although the autumn was already on the corner. Every time you and your partners were successful, you celebrated at the same pub, and tonight it wasn’t going to be different. After weeks of crossing nights wide awake, the team could finally show the new project with efficiency.

You were already drinking your third beer and everyone wasn’t there yet. The weirdest thing was that everyone was always very punctual and once you worked in a stressful job, when they were late you just couldn’t help feeling worried. Impatiently you stood up. The only one there besides you was Noah.

“Gotta call’em, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Noah nodded, agreeing. It didn’t take too long for you to come back, with a way better gaze than you were before.

“They're not coming yet, still have some things to sort out in the studio. I’ve no idea what.”

“Neither. Want to let it go for another day?”

You sat taking the glass with your beer and looking at the lipstick mark you had left on it.

“No, we can wait for them a little. For now, it seems like it’s just the two of us tonight, Noah Sebastian.”

“Just the two of us, babe.” He winked at you.

You remembered the moment you started working with him… Damn, he was good with words. Noah’s answer wasn’t a big thing, but he always knew how to use the right, and sharp, words, in the most opportune moments. The way Noah used to choose his words lit something up inside you, and that wasn’t the first time. Every time it happened you made sure to hide it the most quickly you could from him, and from you too. Lucky you, even before you could feel ashamed to think something different from literal, you jumped on the chair, remembering something. You took a tiny notebook that used to live in your pocket and wrote “ligar para a mamãe ainda hoje!” On the page there were also other things written, all in Portuguese, catching Noah’s attention.

“Your English is so good I always forget you’re not from here.” He gave a muffled chuckle.

“Just remembered I have to call my mom so I wrote to not forget. Did you know even I forget it sometimes? But always happens something who remembers me I’m not from here. For example, every time I go to the bakery to buy us some donuts, I wish I could buy a huge bag of pão de queijo or a few coxinhas.” You made a pause. “I miss home sometimes.”

Noah's eyes sparkled with interest. It was fascinating to see the way you talked about your country every time. About food, about people… Noah couldn’t even imagine how somebody could spend Christmas Eve in a more than 86ºF heat. But the thing he liked the most was seeing you when you were by yourself at your table at the office, concentrated and grumbling something in Portuguese. He knew that merda was something bad and arrasei was when you were proud of something you had done well, but maybe only now, by the effect of a few alcohols, or by being alone with you, he figured out he just knew all of that because he noticed you more than he should when you were speaking your mother language. He sipped his beer and looked deeply at you with that warm pair of brown eyes.

“You could teach me a few Portuguese, what do you think?”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to act the most normal you could, but on the inside, you were in a mix of feelings and thoughts. Maybe it was the beer, or maybe it was because you were alone with him, but you never felt so into him like this moment.

“I think it’s great. What do you want to learn?”

“I don’t know… Maybe you could translate what you see now.”

You looked around, thinking about what to choose.

“Let’s see… We’re drinking cerveja, we’re in a bar, just like in English, I'm a produtora, and… I don’t know what to say anymore” you laughed.

Noah listened to all your words with attention, hypnotized.

“And how do I say you’re beautiful?” When he figured out, it was too late, he had already asked.

“Você é lindo” you answered, with an accomplishment tone.

“So… Did you know você é lindo?” Noah told you, seeming more serious than before.

“No” you giggled, that was really cute. “When you talk to a girl you have to say linda. Lindo is for the boys.”

“So you told me I’m lindo?”

“Maybe…” You winked an eye at him.

“Oh, thank you, I wasn’t expecting that. You’re linda too.” He got closer, putting his elbow on the table and resting his cheeks on his hand, without taking his eyes off of yours.

“Hm, obrigada…” You thanked. That was starting to be funny.

“De nada…?” Noah tried to respond to you.

“Yes! You remembered!” You answered excitedly, putting your hand on his arm.

It took a second for you to figure out where your hand was, and instead of removing it, it just felt right not to take it off. You looked at each other in a moment that looked like an eternity. His eyes didn’t help looking at yours, and then at your lips, returning to your eyes again.

“Can I ask you something?” he finally answered.

“Yes.”

“How can I say can I kiss you?”

He was too serious to be joking, and you felt your stomach trembling with anxiety. You were nervous, but damn… You wanted to kiss him right now.

“Posso te beijar?” You finally translated.

“Yes, you can.” He answered.

And then it happened. When you realized, you were already lost on his lips, feeling tickles on your mouth because of a few stubble on his face, and letting your body heat up.

(…)

You showed up at the bureau the day after feeling kind of weird. You didn’t know why the others didn’t show up but to be honest, you were glad they didn’t. You and Noah spent an incredible night at the bar the day before, sharing kisses and caresses, talking and flirting with each other. Both of you agreed not to spend the night together, you were kind of drunk and you wanted to enjoy, and discover, each other as you deserved. But now you thought it was just a drunk conversation between the two of you, he would probably not even remember anything that happened the night before anymore.

You entered the corridor of your level and noticed a package on your table. You approached, smelling a nostalgic scent. On the package it had a small post-it, saying “Good morning, linda.”

You opened the paper bag, finding a lot of fresh pão de queijo inside. You smelled those tiny breads and felt at home again, smiling. You lifted your eyes excitedly, looking for him. He was in front of the coffee machine, trying to disguise himself, but you knew he was paying attention to you when he looked at you and winked one eye, smiling. You smiled back, feeling your heart heating up.

He remembered the night before, after all. And you couldn’t wait for the two of you to have other nights to remember.

masterlist | taglist: @lacy1986 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard | send me an ask to join my taglist <3

for those who are curious: this is pão de queijo, and this is coxinha

#my fic #my fics #noah sebastian #noahsebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens #luna writes #fanfic #noah sebastian fic

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aristarr · 2 days ago

Text

College AU, in which after the war Bakugou applies himself and Izuku to an American exchange program to help Izuku cope with his feelings and get his passion back.

“Kacchan, I look ridiculous in that.”

“Stop the whining, nerd. I was the one dressing you - you simply cannot look ridiculous.”

Izuku laughs softly, looking at Bakugou’s hands on his tie. “That’s neat”

“Of course, it is,” Katsuki smirks, adding final touches to Izuku’s look. “Here, you’re ready”

“I’m definitely not.” Midoriya shakes his head, tightening the grip on his papers. “I’m feeling like I’m going to fail.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, sighing loudly. “Here, listen to me, Izuku.” He takes the papers out of Izuku’s hands, places them on the bed, and takes now free hands in his.

“You know I’m not the one to give encouraging speeches. But I know that out of all the people in that damn conference hall, you worked the most. I don't know a person who's even an inch close to how passionate you are about all that. You deserve to be there, Izuku. And you also deserve the fucking prize.”

“There's no prize, Kacchan, it's just a student conference,” Izuku says, his eyes full of tears now. Katsuki wipes them away, cradling Midoriya’s face in his hands.

“Then we'll come up with something. Now take your things - I don't want you to be late.”

“Don’t make me go in there, please” Izuku pleads, turning away ready to leave. But Katsuki stops him, returning him to his spot.

“You know I can’t go with you, but I’ll be there. In the crowd. Cheering for you as a goddamn cheerleader” Bakugou says and Izuku smiles, looking fondly at the other man. “Will you use pom poms too?”

“No fucking way” Katsuki scoffs, pushing Midoriya to the door. “Now go, they start in two minutes.” He looks at the other man’s back for a while and then shouts out as if remembering something. “Good luck there, Izuku”

“You should say “Break a leg, Izuku” Kacchan”

“Don’t you ever use the word “break” in the same sentence with you”

Izuku laughs, and finally goes in, turning one last time to look at Bakugou. “Sure, Kacchan. And thank you. I’ll need that luck.”

Katsuki nods, but Midoriya doesn't see that, already mingling in the crowd of students, revising their presentation notes. He stays in the hall for a while, trying to find Izuku's figure in the crowd though he knows it's pointless: he’s presenting in the very beginning and probably already went backstage, checking out everything he needs. Katsuki smirks and goes to another door, entering the guest part of the conference hall and taking the free seat. It's too far from the stage but it's too late to change it: the music starts playing and one of the students he saw in the crowd appears on stage, his entrance followed by a wave of applause.

“Welcome everyone to our annual international student conference. This year our theme is the following: Hero Costumes Creation and its Dependence on Quirk Peculiarities. Today, we’re glad to announce an impressive number of presenters - we have 46 speakers today! Let's give them all an encouraging applause!”

The hall goes on clapping and the student smiles, joining the crowd. After a minute he continues his speech.

“Now, I think we're ready to start. Let me present to you the first speaker of today - Jeanette O’Murrey. The stage is yours” The girl gets on stage and the host student welcomes her, handing her his microphone, and then hides behind the curtains. Jeanette greets everyone and immediately gets into the presentation. She’s visibly nervous, her hands slightly shaking when she’s changing the slides. She goes on, rambling about some hero costume designs she came up with, but Katsuki doesn’t listen. He just looks at the stage, blankly, waiting for Izuku's entrance. Speakers go on and off stage, and the crowd cheers for everyone, some of the guests asking questions from time to time.

The seventh person finishes their speech and the host student is back again, ready to announce the next speaker.

“Thank you Mr. Valet for your amazing presentation. The next speaker we’d like to invite on stage is,” he looks at his notes to make sure he pronounces the name right, “Midoriya Izuku.”

Katsuki straightens up, now fully aware of everything going on on the stage. He’s now looking right at Izuku, following his every movement.

“Hello everyone,” Izuku starts, tightening the grip on his notes, “my name’s Izuku Midoriya, but I guess you already know that. Today, I want to present to you my research paper on how we can improve hero costumes for those, whose quirks fall into a category of “mutation quirks”.

He turns the page, reading his notes. Switching the slides of his presentation, he takes a deep breath, looking at the crowd. He’s searching, carefully, for the specific pair of eyes, whose gaze can soothe him better than anything. And they’re already looking at him. Katsuki is looking. They look at each other for just a second, but that’s enough for Katsuki to mouth an encouraging “You got this”.

So Izuku takes it, going back to his speech.

The shaking ceases, his voice becoming steady with every word he says. And Katsuki just watches him, with a smile on his face for the whole presentation. He’s so proud of him at this moment. He really is. And he wants to let Izuku know about it. Here and now.

It takes them 8 hours to listen to everyone and Izuku’s absolutely drained. He gets out of the hall the second he gets the opportunity and immediately goes to the guest door, wanting to catch Katsuki there. He looks at the crowd of people searching for a familiar face.

“Looking for someone?” Midoriya turns around, locking his eyes with Bakugou’s. Katsuki’s standing far from the rest of the people, smiling softly at Izuku. Izuku smiles back, running toward him, folding him in his arms.

“Have you seen me?” He starts, his eyes full of tears but his voice happy, “I did it, Kacchan! I did it!”

“Yes, Izuku. I’ve seen everything. You did it. And you were amazing. You really were.”

And so I'm finally ready to present one of the pieces I've been working on for BNHA Secret Santa held by @kacchanot-fucking-deal-with-this!! This gift is specifically for @natsuzaki and I was so happy to work on this one. You've asked for some fluff and college AU with these two and I couldn't resist some bakudeku fluff - I'm always up for it!! I hope I did a good job showing that part of them and I really hope you like it!! And so sorry it took me so long.

Merry belated Christmas!! Hope you enjoy your gift!

#mhasecretsanta2024 #mha #bnha #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #izuku midoriya #bakudeku #katsudeku #katsuki bakugou x izuku midoriya #bnha fanart #bnha fanfiction #aristarcuswritesstuff #aristarcusdrawsstuff

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coeurcanelle · 3 days ago

Text

Hold my heart even if it's cold pt3

pairing: surfer!ellie x reader

fluff,angst,sad ending

masterlist

ellie finally tells you why she's been ignoring you for an entire week. You also discover the sad truth behind all the prize money she didnt share with you and understand why surfing was her escape.

"Yeah, my drink is so much better," you said, pushing Ellie's mojito back towards her after taking a quick sip—just enough to taste it and contort your face in disgust, making Ellie chuckle.

It was only 4 pm, but the lack of sleep, stacked up over the days, had caught up with both of you. Too tired to grab your boards again, you chilled at the beachside bar, the soft crashes of the waves long forgotten.

She pushed your pina colada back to you and grabbed her sour drink instead.

Although you and Ellie had a lot in common, you still had opposite tastes—in colors, in music, in fashion style, and even in drinks.

Not in food, though—the classic picnic sandwich was both your favorite meal.

"They both taste good," Ellie disagreed, taking a huge sip and purposefully slurping. "I don't know what you're on."

There wasn't a single sour drink you’d ever learned to like. They just couldn't compare to sweet drinks. But Ellie wasn't complicated when it came to drinks; you could give her the most tasteless one, and her taste buds would just be built different.

"You're the smoker here, not me," you shot back, making Ellie's lips curl into a smirk, clearly amused.

"Guess the weed just made you have bad taste, huh?" she teased.

Ellie had this habit of smoking on the beach once the waves had swallowed all your energy. It wasn’t a habit you shared, but you always told her you didn’t mind the scent of weed drifting through the air while you drifted off, falling asleep on your towel with the sun kissing your skin.

Your gaze shifted to the lipstick stain you’d left on her white straw, your lips curling into a smile. "It doesn’t work like that."

Her eyes followed yours to the straw before meeting yours again, a teasing smirk playing at her lips. "Well, I just put my lips on that straw," she said slowly, leaning in, eyes fixed on yours. "And now you’ve technically put yours over mine, getting a taste of my drink. It’s like... indirect kissing."

She didn’t know if you could hear it—her heart hammering in her chest after letting her boldness push her to a line she'd never crossed with you before.

You blinked, unsure of how to react to her flirting. The air between you thickened, and you were caught somewhere between confusion and amusement.

Ellie took the silence as a sign, leaning back in her chair, her cocky smirk shifting into something more mischievous. "The weed’s in your mouth now."

She watched you bite your bottom lip, trying to hold back your laughter at the absurdity of her words. "Girl, what?"

Ellie rolled her eyes, clearly expecting you to be flustered by her teasing, but instead, you only laughed.

She had been expecting you to react in a way that would make her feel shy, but you didn’t know how to flirt like this—outside of the water, where your teasing came easily, and you could paint her cheeks cherry red.

You dropped your gaze to your drink, focusing on the sweet taste to avoid the weight of Ellie’s eyes on you, waiting for you to say something—anything.

"Now you’re just making things awkward," she murmured, mimicking your movement as she took a sip and lowered her gaze to her drink. Suddenly, she seemed shy.

You stopped drinking and looked at her, trying to think of something to say to fill the silence before it suffocated you both. "You started this."

The straw slipped from Ellie’s lips, and she lifted her eyes to meet yours. "You’re not helping," she sighed.

You stopped drinking, finally meeting her gaze. Her eyes were pleading, almost expectant. "What do you want me to say?"

She shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You should know."

Your heart skipped at the quiet intimacy in her voice.

It was a huge leap for Ellie to flirt with you like this, and you realized it was only fair to flirt back instead of hiding behind your cocktail.

So you grabbed her drink again, locking eyes with hers, which glimmered with surprise—and something more—when you put your lips on the exact spot she had put hers. The sour taste flooded your mouth, but you focused on making her heart skip a few beats.

Ellie wasn’t functioning when you gave her back your drink with a wink.

"Consider this your first then."

She never thought she'd want to be a straw so badly, but she wasn’t going to admit it. Instead, she tried to play it off. "You really think I’m a loser, huh?" she said with a casual shrug, trying to hide the flush creeping up her neck.

Four days ago, that’s how your friendship with Ellie had been. The lines were pretty blurred, and you liked it that way. Back then, you never imagined that it would be the exact reason you’d cry yourself to sleep every night at the thought of her now.

“I think it’s better if we don’t see each other for a while. Sorry.”

That was the last message you got from her. She made it crystal clear that she didn’t want to see your face again.

She didn’t want to hear the sound of your voice.

She didn’t want to feel the warmth of your touch again.

But it didn’t answer the one question you kept asking yourself every day since.

Why?

Why would she choose distance when she couldn’t even keep her hands to herself around you? When her gaze lingered on you like a secret she was dying to tell?

The warmth you once cherished when you thought of her now burned with a darker, sharper flame—a fire fueled by confusion and longing. It consumed you, growing fiercer the longer she stayed away.

The surfers on the beach were probably right. Maybe it would appease you not to be around her for a while, knowing all you'd do would be argue with her and make things even worse than they already were.

But how long was "a while"?

What did “a while” mean? Days? Weeks? Months? Or had she really meant forever but softened the blow with kinder words?

You obsessed over her message, dissecting each letter like it held some hidden truth. You even let paranoia sink in—what if someone else had sent it, someone who wanted to tear you apart? But deep down, you knew. You knew it was her.

So, you stayed away from the beach. The ocean that once brought you peace now felt like a cruel reminder of her absence.

Every time you'd dive into the water, the icy water felt like her cold hands brushing against yours.

Every time you'd rest on your board, drained of energy, the warm sun was like her small, shy smile that melted your heart every time.

Every wave rolling and crashing on the shore unfolded memories of her—Ellie, balancing on her board with effortless ease, laughing at your attempts to imitate her tricks before coaxing you to try again with that proud glimmer in her eyes.

You missed her green eyes. The way they lingered on you when she thought you wouldn’t notice. The way they darted away, embarrassed, when you teased her for it.

Now, all of it was gone.

Memories were all you had, and they were eating you alive.

You missed her.

You missed what you were.

You weren’t even together, but this hurt worse than a breakup. Worse than heartbreak, it was the emptiness of not knowing if she’d ever come back to you.

The silence was unbearable. No texts, no calls, not even a glimpse of her at the places she used to frequent. Even her apartment—windows always closed whenever you passed by—felt like a tomb.

Ellie was born of the ocean. There wasn’t a single day she’d spent away from the sound of waves, the salt air in her lungs. Even on cloudy days, she’d drag you to the beach just to sit and dig a sand pool connected to the water,just doing anything to still stay close to her favorite place.

So if she wasn’t here, at her second home, the heart of what brought her joy, how was she even doing?

With a sliver of hope still clinging to your chest, you returned to the moon pool cave. Maybe she’d be there, you thought. Maybe you’d find her sitting on the rocks, ready to share one of her ridiculous jokes about planets, the kind that would make you laugh until your stomach ached.

But the cave was empty.

Only the moon remained, casting its pale reflection on the still water, and silence was your only companion.

Half of your heart beat in your chest, the other half with her.

You wondered if she was drowning in loneliness like you, unable to find a sliver of sunlight through her closed windows.

What was she even doing, all alone in the dark?

Surfing wasn’t her only hobby—so maybe she was drawing in her journal, but everything she liked was connected to the ocean, and she hadn’t stepped foot in the water since days. So what could she possibly be drawing?

The moon above shone bright, not offering warmth like the summer sun, but casting a silver light throughout the cave.

You had thought all this time that Ellie was like the sun. But after a lot of overthinking,you started to think she was more like the moon—shining brightly, giving her light to the stars in the sky, showing you her best smile, her happiest tears, and her loudest laughs. Yet that was only one side of her. What was on the other side? Was it just as bright?

This distance felt so sudden, and you realized something.

Ellie hadn’t been avoiding you.

She’d been avoiding the beach.

"Surfing makes me forget everything. I try to keep my mind busy at home, but at the beach... surfing just hits different. Like I can let go and focus on the waves, you know?"

That was the only time you got her to open up a little, but you never learned what she was trying to escape,what was she trying to forget.

Then there were the little things—like when you asked her about her fall, and she brushed it off without even pretending to smile, hiding the pain of not finishing her trick.

Or the way her lips curved into something sad when a child asked her to teach him to surf someday, agreeing like it was a promise she didn’t believe she could keep.

The pieces were starting to come together, but you still couldn’t see the whole picture.

Something was wrong.

And Ellie wasn’t the drama queen type.

If she was hiding something from you, it had to be heavy—so heavy that she thought it might crush you, too.

The distance wasn’t meant to hurt you.

It was meant to protect you.

She was sinking beneath the weight of whatever secret she carried, the tides pulling her under. And instead of reaching for your hand, she let herself drift, thinking it was better to drown alone than drag you down with her.

Because she knew you would take her hand every time. That you wouldn’t mind sinking as long as you could help her back to the surface. Or that you might even drown with her, not daring to let go.

And she didn’t want that.

You could see it now. It was all there, written in her green eyes the moment she opened the door to you.

You couldn’t endure more than a week of this.

You didn’t need her to come back to you—you just needed to understand. An answer. Any answer.

If she told you to leave, if she told you never to see her again, you’d do it. But you wouldn’t leave without the truth.

So, when you finally stood before her door, the words fell out of you.

"Are you okay?"

♡°♡°♡

The scent of cleaning products invaded your nose as she let you step into her cozy apartment. Everything was in place, the floor even shining. She didn’t lie when she said she cleaned it up.

But you couldn’t shake the ominous feeling rising in your chest.

Everything looked untouched, as if she hadn’t lived here.

"I wasn’t home for a week," Ellie explained, unable to meet your eyes, afraid that you might see through her and read her mind.

It made sense why the windows were open today.

"Where had you been?"you asked

Never had you seen her look so tired. Her voice was rough, and the dark bags under her eyes betrayed her usually energetic self.

Her face was so pale. As pale as a ghost.

The only answer you got was silence. Ellie was thinking of a smooth excuse to make you leave. But when you walked closer, asking if she had even had lunch, offering to make her something, she grabbed your arm before you could reach the doorknob of the kitchen.

"No. Don’t go inside." She pulled away when you stopped and turned back to her. Her hand was cold against your arm. Colder than usual.

"Okay. You wanna tell me what’s going on with you?" Her dark green eyes met your confused ones. She knew she couldn’t avoid this conversation forever, but it was still hard knowing you had no idea what she’d been going through, and that it could change everything between you.

"Look, I’m sorry about the money, I know—"

"I’m not here to argue about that. It’s fine." You shook your head. Deep down, you knew her desire to create distance wasn’t just about that. And you didn’t want to stir up tension, especially when she looked like... that. "I just wanted to know if you're okay. You haven’t exactly been showing signs of life these days."

Ellie nodded, her thoughts drifting to the ocean. For a week, she had been listening to the sound of crashing waves in her shell, daydreaming about being there. With you.

"I know I’m..." Ellie’s eyes struggled to stay on yours. She looked away "I’m sick."

Another excuse, you thought. "Sick? In the middle of summer?"

But then her eyes met yours again, pure honesty glimmering in them.

"No... not like this." Her lips trembled, afraid of letting the bitter truth slip after she’d drowned you in the ocean of her lies.

Unable to find the right words, she took your hand instead. The lack of reassurance in her grip made your heart tighten.

"Okay..." she exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. "Come with me."

Each step you took didn’t lessen the overwhelming grip—if anything, it tightened with Ellie’s cold fingers wrapped around yours, leading you to her kitchen.

And you didn’t know what you expected, but it wasn’t this: a large pile of medicine bottles and boxes scattered across her table, still in their bags.

Your heart sank deeper than you thought it could, but it still didn’t compare to how deep Ellie had sunk.

“Why?” You covered your mouth with your hand in shock, trying your best to keep your voice steady. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Ellie knew she should have shut the door in your face, told you to fuck off and never come back. It would have hurt less than seeing you like this, the light fading from your eyes, just like it had from hers. “I didn’t want to worry you, or have you see me like this.”

The puzzle was complete now.

You searched her eyes desperately, your voice trembling with a question you prayed wasn’t true.

“Do you have cancer or something?”

Ellie let out a soft chuckle, trying to ease the thick tension in the air. “I still have all my hair, don’t I?”

But you didn’t laugh.

The silence that followed was deafening, pressing down on you like a weight too heavy to bear. She shifted uncomfortably, scratching the back of her neck as the facade crumbled. Her voice softened, almost apologetic.

“It’s ALS… neuromuscular stuff.”

Your heart dropped.

It all made sense.

Her fall at the competition—it wasn’t just a mistake. It was her body starting to give up on her.

The prize money—you’d foolishly dreamed of spending the summer together, carefree and happy, while she’d been planning for treatments, trying to buy more time against a sickness that was already taking everything from her.

And that sad smile she gave the little boy who asked her to teach him to surf one day—it wasn’t just disappointment. It was the quiet grief of knowing she’d promised him a future she would never live to see.

"How bad is it?" you asked, though the piles of medicine already answered for you.

The silence hung between you like a storm on the verge of breaking. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely audible.

"I don’t have much time left."

The world stopped spinning. It had to. Time itself felt like it fractured, splintering into shards that pierced through your chest.

You swore you felt your heart break, warmth spilling from the cracks, leaving you hollow and aching. Your chest tightened, your breath caught, and all you could do was stand there as your mind reeled against the truth.

She had pushed you away for a week, kept you at arm’s length—not because she didn’t care, but because she cared too much.

She saw how hard and fast you’d fallen for her. How behind your eyes, you imagined her lips on yours, and how behind your small smile, you wanted to make her heart melt.

And she had fallen too—harder than any wave had ever thrown her.

And she didn’t want you to anchor yourself to someone with no tomorrow, someone who would make you cling to the past, to the shadows of memories.

She didn’t want her fading touch to take away your warmth.

She didn’t want you to love someone who was already slipping away.

Pulling you under with her would be a fall that wouldn’t leave bruises on your skin like the waves did, but would instead carve wounds into your heart—wounds that no time or tenderness could ever mend.

"I know you're upset because I didn't tell you, but... I didn't want to," she said, fighting back her tears just like you now.

In the past, she had made peace with this. She had imagined the ocean taking her back one day, the moon shining bright above her as she gave herself to the waves. But then she met you, and suddenly, she was afraid.

Afraid of the life she’d never get to have.

Afraid of the love she’d leave behind.

Afraid of never seeing you again.

Silence filled the space between you as you tried to gather the shattered pieces of yourself. When you finally spoke, your voice was soft, but heavy with pain.

"Why? I would’ve been here for you, Ellie. I would’ve helped with treatments. I would’ve done something. Anything." If you'd known she needed all the prize money for the competition, you would’ve let her take it in a heartbeat—maybe even given some of your own if it wasn't enough.

Just anything to buy some time, even if it was just for a second.

"That's exactly why I kept my mouth shut."

Your heart—or perhaps what was left of it—clenched at her firm voice.

"You're gonna start seeing me as..." she continued, pointing to the bags of medicine on the table, her hands trembling. "As a zombie," her voice cracked with frustration. "Someone who's already dying."

Each word, each syllable, raw and heavy with pain, hurt. You wished you could take all of her burdens away and bear them for her.

“Bullshit,” you said, your voice rising, trembling with anger and desperation. “You’re not going to die.”

You wouldn't let her drown.

And if you had to sink to help her stay afloat, you’d do it in a heartbeat.

Because all you wanted was for her to live, to pursue her passion, gliding over the roaring waves like a true daughter of the sea. In your eyes, no one else ever shone above the waters quite like she did.

Your eyes drifted to the mountain of pill bottles. Ellie had spent an entire week in the hospital, under the care of doctors, managing to afford enough medicine to keep her going.

Each bottle wasn't just a symbol of her fragility or a silent witness to her suffering. They were here because she was still holding on. Because there was still hope.

"You're gonna be just fine. I'm going to make sure of that." Your soft words made Ellie's eyes soften too, and her heart feeling a little less heavy.

But the weight that lifted from Ellie’s heart found itself in yours.

You would share this burden with her.

Slowly, you stepped closer, hoping to see the reflection of hope in your eyes mirrored in hers.

"If you don't have that much time left, and the doctors are unsure, that doesn’t mean you're going to die tomorrow. You might have months or even years. I’m not going to give up on you just because you think there's no hope. Think about it this way—every single moment we spend will be precious, timeless, and you won't ever be alone." Closing the distance, you reached for her hand, transferring your warmth to her cold skin with soothing touches.

"I’m here, no matter what. Always." You promised.

Becausze above the low tides and the violent roar of the waves, Ellie had never stopped helping you back up on your board.

Even beneath the blazing sun, she never hid that small, beaming smile that warmed you more than the light itself.

Under the cold gaze of the moon, her arms never faltered, holding you steady as you trembled against the chill.

By day, when tears fell from the weight of failed tricks, she never stopped turning them into laughter, chasing away the frustration.

And even in the quiet of the night, when the waves pulled you under, she never ceased soothing your bruises, staying until the last wave of pain finally ebbed away.

Because Ellie had always been there for you.

And now, it was your turn to be there for her.

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, but you held them in, fighting the urge to fall apart when she needed you most.

You had to be the steady hand that would piece her back together, no matter how fragile she felt.

Wiping your eyes, you took a steady breath and offered her a gentle smile, silently urging her to return it.

"Do you want me to make lunch?" Your hand was still caressing hers, the warmth beginning to fade. "Anything?"

And in that moment, as you watched her fragile smile form, the broken pieces of your heart began to pull themselves back together, like shards of glass fitting into place.

Ellie nodded, her heart beating with excitement. "Yeah, sure," she missed your sandwiches.

She let go of your hand and walked around the kitchen, opening the cabinets to grab the plates.

On the other side of the room, you were stacking the medicines in a secluded cupboard, your mind drifting to her treatments.

Then the sound of glass hitting the floor startled you.

You rushed to Ellie’s side, scanning her hands for any cuts. They were trembling uncontrollably.

"Shit, sorry," Ellie murmured, crouching down to pick up the scattered pieces. But you stopped her.

"Hey, don’t worry, I got it," you reassured her, and she nodded.

She sat down on the floor, away from the glass, as you went to grab a broom and dustpan to clean it up.

It wasn’t the first time you had used the broom in her apartment, so you quickly reappeared in the kitchen.

As you swept the shards into the dustpan, the sound of stifled sobs reached your ears.

Immediately, you turned, your heart breaking at the sight of Ellie crying.

You dropped the broom and dustpan, pulling her into your arms.

Her body shook like a leaf as her tears soaked your shoulder.

She had been holding back her tears since she fell. Every day at the hospital, she was drowning in your absence, wishing for things to be different—a different world where she wasn’t sick.

But she never wished for you to change.

She had pushed you away, thinking it was the only way to protect you. But you hadn’t stepped back.

Instead, you pulled her closer—closer into your arms, closer into your heart.

Soon, you found your own tears falling onto her shoulder.

Water and salt mixed in each other’s tears—water from the cherished past and salt from the bitter future. Yet, you stood there, trying to piece together what had slipped through your fingers, reshaping it into something that could be a better present.

Even if her world was ending and the stars in the sky were falling, you would try to hang them back up just for her.

And if they couldn’t remain, and the world fell into darkness, you would be her last glimmer of light.

♡°♡°♡

You found yourself counting days again. Days since Ellie told you the truth behind her sudden disappearance. Days since she apologized for pushing you away. You always told her it was okay—that what mattered was that you were back together. She promised she would never do it again, and you believed her.

Despite the heartbreak, each piece of your heart was still, and would always be, full of her.

You could have never guessed she was ill, not with her infectious, playful, and energetic spirit.

But it wasn’t a facade at all. Even after telling you she was sick, she was still the same girl you met on the waves at the beginning of summer.

Or maybe it was because she’d gotten better.

A few days after learning the truth, you packed some of your clothes from your closet and moved them into Ellie’s—practically living with her.

The apartment felt peaceful, the days filled with harmony as you helped her with chores. From preparing meals—not just sandwiches—to doing the laundry or vacuuming the floor.

Every time she’d catch you with a broom or something, she would grab it back, saying, “Is it me or are you letting the cookies burn again? Go to the kitchen quick!!!” Just an excuse to do the chores herself, though your acts of service always warmed her heart.

Ellie was still pretty independent, and accidents like her dropping things only happened once.

And because she got better, it didn’t take long before you dove into the water again.

“Did you feel that?” Ellie asked, her legs floating underwater as she sat on her board, looking at you to see if you felt something graze your feet too.

“Yeah, I hope it’s just a fish.”

After putting on your swimsuits, you and Ellie rubbed sunscreen on each other’s backs, her fingers lingering longer than necessary on yours before you both stretched and caught low and high tides effortlessly.

Even after a week, Ellie was still amazing, never slipping once. You copied her tricks, earning her proud smile every time you didn’t slip.

And once the adrenaline wore off, you just sat there talking under the sun, above the gleaming water. The crashing waves from the shore echoed far away, feeling less playful than Ellie.

“I mean, we’re pretty far from the shore. Water’s cold. Could be anything.”

You shifted your gaze from Ellie’s playful smirk to the shimmering water. The sun’s golden reflection rippled across the surface, concealing anything beneath it, teasing your curiosity.

“Only one way to find out,” you said, a grin tugging at your lips before vanishing underwater.

The sound of the sea enveloped you as you dove deeper. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, the saltwater stinging briefly before your vision adjusted. Searching for the mysterious fish that had brushed against you, you were greeted with an unexpected sight: a line of identical cods swimming in perfect formation, their silvery bodies glinting like tiny mirrors in the dappled sunlight.

Carefully, you extended your arms forward, moving slowly to avoid startling them. Then, with a quick motion, you grabbed one of the fish and shot back up to the surface.

Ellie’s eyes widened as you emerged, triumphant, the fish flailing in your grip. “No way! You actually caught it,” she said, her tone a mix of awe and disbelief.

Grinning, you held it up proudly before gently releasing it back into the water. “Piece of cake,” you bragged, earning a playful scoff from Ellie.

Ellie raised an eyebrow, her smirk returning as she pushed herself off her board and into the water. The cold didn’t seem to faze her. "Okay, show-off. I’m going to catch two. Just you wait.”

Before you could respond, she disappeared beneath the waves. You rested your hands on your board, watching her green shorts and top fading into the blue depths.

Moments later, Ellie resurfaced, empty-handed, her playful smirk replaced by a slightly embarrassed pout.

“Need help?” you teased, unable to hide your amusement.

“Shut up,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes as she climbed back onto her board. You really made it look so easy to fish with bare hands—she’d probably be better as bait.

“I had it, I swear. I caught it, but then it slipped. Freaked out and everything.”

You couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Who wouldn’t?”

Without warning, she brought her legs up and kicked them against the water, sending a cascade of icy splashes your way.

You retaliated, splashing water back at her, but before you could gain the upper hand, Ellie leaned in closer. Her mischievous grin was the last thing you saw before she shoved you both underwater.

Beneath the waves, your laughter erupted into streams of shimmering bubbles, tangling in the currents around you. For a fleeting moment, her sickness seemed to dissolve into the water, carried away with the tide.

The ache in her stomach wasn’t from pain this time; it was from laughing too hard, from joy that felt as infinite as the sea.

The same joy spread through your body as you and Ellie now lay exhausted on the shore. Your eyes lingered on the magical scenery unfolding on the horizon, where the orange sun dipped low, gently kissing the endless blue sea. Ellie had suggested watching the sunset from the shore, not giving you a specific reason, but you agreed anyway. You lazily paddled here, not without a huge wall of water crashing over your bodies along the way. Now, you were like stranded whales, letting the last rays of warmth from the sun evaporate the small droplets on your skin.

Suddenly, you felt her eyes on you. It was funny how you could always tell when Ellie was looking at you, even without glancing back.

A droplet of water slid from your waist, down your side, before disappearing into the sand.

Then her eyes turned to yours.

This time, she didn't look away.

"If you were that fish underwater," she turned to look at the sea. Images of her failing to catch the small cod earlier flashed in your mind. "Would you have freaked out?"

You smiled at her.

"Depends. If you mind your own business, I’d be cool. But if you’re some zoophile or planning to eat me raw and alive..."

"What?" Ellie turned to you, her eyes flashing with fake shock, expecting you to say no, or something that would make her heart flutter. "Can't believe you think of me like that, a heartless freak with primal,neolithic needs."

Then her eyes softened when a laugh escaped your lips, your soft, kissable lips.

All she wanted to do was feel your joy against her lips.

"What did you even do to that fish?" you asked, and she knew you were just joking.

You were teasing her, but she couldn't fight the warmth creeping up on her neck.

"Nothing, I swear!" she exclaimed, trying to keep eye contact.

"Sure"

But your eyes followed the redness now coloring her cheeks, and it only intensified when she caught your smirk.

You liked it a little too much, teasing her until all she could do was look away, trying to calm her racing heart. She’d never admit it, but she liked it. And loved it even more when you were the one being flustered by her.

"I really just... leaned in. Like this," she says, her voice quieter now as she inches closer to you, her eyes locked on yours.

The sun had finally disappeared beneath the water, ready to let the moon shine through the night.

But it was in Ellie's eyes that shone the prettiest stars.

"And then it freaked out?" you asked, your voice softer now.

"Yeah," Ellie whispers, her voice almost trembling as her gaze flickers down to your lips and back to your eyes.

Your breath fanned over her lips, and she was aching to steal it all away from your lungs, which was funny considering she promised she would be the air filling your lungs if you drowned.

You were truly driving her crazy.

"What if it was me, and you were the fish..." you tilted your head, your voice gentle. "Would you freak out?"

The few inches distancing you felt so far, like you were on the other side of the planet.

She didn’t solely need the sweetness of your smile, she yearned to feel your heart beating next to hers.

Desperately, she replied, “No.”

The same desperation echoed in your heart.

Before Ellie could add another word, you closed the distance, an explosion of warmth and pure affection bursting from her heart, spreading through her chest as she tasted the sweetness of your smile.

Your lips moved desperately against hers as you emptied your heart, full of her.

The saltwater lingered on your connecting lips.

Ellie was right.

Daydreaming about this moment for so long, her heart always told her you'd taste like her favorite place in the world, like the ocean.

Your trembling hands cupped her rosy cheeks as you lost yourself in this pull, stronger than the sea, drawing her closer and crashing the waves of everything into her: the love you've felt for her since day one, the joy of having her reciprocate your feelings, but also fear.

Fear of losing her.

Fear that this might be an ending rather than a beginning.

Ellie's fingers brushed yours before she pulled them off her cheeks, gently guiding your hands down into the sand, intertwining your fingers as she moved her lips softly against your desperate ones.

You kissed her like there was no tomorrow, and she kissed you as though each second held the eternity of a memory.

Each flicker of her tongue told you she wasn't going anywhere.

Her hands grounded you as she calmed the storm raging in your heart, her heart melting when you responded with equal tenderness, yours melting as you felt her hand now on your hip.

Deepening the kiss, she let all of her love travel through your chest, reaching your heart, and pulled you closer so you could feel her heartbeat next to yours.

Each single beat thudding in her chest for you.

The first stars began to appear, witnessing what the sun never could, as you pulled away.

The chill of the night didn’t faze you. Your heart was warmed by the sight of Ellie’s blissful,breathless smile.

The shoreline whispered as small waves crashed around you, promising a love as deep as the ocean and as endless as the sky.

From that night on, you stopped counting the days she had left. Instead, you started making every day count.

---

☆taglist: @vahnilla

a/n:last part coming soon <3

#Spotify #ellie tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #tlou2 #ellie williams #ellie fluff #wlw

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heartsriki · 7 hours ago

Text

FLORAL SANCTUARY ⌇봄의 사랑

pairing ᝰ idol!sunghoon x fem!reader — featuring.. riki & sunoo | word count: 5.2k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ fluff, tiny bit of angst, mention of Sasaengs, misunderstandings, assault attempt (not from hoon), kissing, reader is a florist.

synopsis — your life is turned upside down when a mysterious customer, later revealed to be sunghoon of ENHYPEN, starts frequenting their shop. As feelings blossom, they must navigate the challenges of love in the spotlight and a world of secrets.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊Im not sure if I like this but :( I worked on it for a little bit of time so I might as well post it also don’t talk about me sneaking riki into every fic fr.. OH I hope yall like the bonuses under every fic as well <3 hope you like it enjoy fr!

The start of spring always brought life to the city. The air smelled of fresh blooms, the sun painted the streets in golden light, and your quaint little flower shop buzzed with new energy. Spring meant love was in the air, and for a florist like you, it was prime confession season.

The day, however, had been slower than you’d hoped. The usual flow of familiar faces trickled in—some grabbing pre-made bouquets, others chatting as they browsed. Earlier, a man wearing a mask and a baseball cap had wandered in, keeping to himself as he strolled among the displays. He seemed like the kind of person who was window-shopping rather than buying, so you left him to it, busying yourself with restocking and rearranging.

The soft chime of the doorbell broke the quiet rhythm of the shop, and you turned to see a younger guy, probably no older than 18, shuffling inside. He looked nervous, wringing his hands as he approached the counter.

“Uh, hey… What flowers are, like, good for confessing?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You couldn’t help but smile. This was your favorite kind of customer—the ones looking for the perfect way to say something they couldn’t put into words themselves. “If you’re confessing love, red tulips are a classic,” you said, guiding him toward the vibrant blooms.

His face lit up as he picked a handful, and you wrapped them into a simple but elegant bouquet. As you handed it over, you grinned and said, “Good luck! I hope they say yes.”

“Thanks!” he beamed, waving as he left the shop.

You turned back to the shelves, searching for something to keep you busy when the man in the mask from earlier appeared at the counter. He stood tall, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, his face obscured by the brim of his cap.

“Can I help you?” you asked, tilting your head.

He hesitated like he was working up the courage to speak. “Yeah, uh… I heard you helping that kid, and I was wondering… what flowers are good to give to your mom?”

His voice was deep but soft, and something about it made your chest tighten. You pushed the thought aside and gave a little laugh. “For your mom? Gardenias are perfect—they symbolize love for family. But they’re a bit pricey.”

“That’s fine,” he said quickly. “I’ll take one.”

You nodded and stepped away to grab one of the delicate white blooms. As you did, the radio in the corner of the shop switched songs, the upbeat melody of “Moonstruck” by ENHYPEN filling the air. You glanced at the man, noticing how he suddenly stiffened. His hands fidgeted at his sides, and his eyes darted toward the door.

“Here you go,” you said, returning with the flower wrapped in crisp white paper.

But as you held it out to him, he grabbed it hastily and bolted for the door.

“Hey!” you called after him, heart racing as you hurried around the counter. You chased him to the sidewalk, but he was already halfway down the block, disappearing into the crowd.

You stood there, out of breath, staring after him. “What the actual hell…”

The next day, just as you were finishing up for the evening, you hummed to the soft tune of the radio while sweeping the shop floor. The faint ding of the bell broke the stillness, and you looked up.

“Oh, I’m sorry, we’re closing,” you explained softly, leaning the broom against the counter.

The man who entered smirked at you, his demeanor casual but confident. “No worries, babe. I wasn’t here for flowers anyway,” he said, slowly stepping toward you.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Then what are you here for?”

“Your number would be a good start,” he said with a cocky smile, reaching out as if to touch your arm.

Before he could make contact, an arm suddenly pulled him back. Startled, you watched as his head snapped toward the figure standing behind him—the man in the mask and baseball cap.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the masked man asked, his voice low and commanding.

The cocky man’s confidence vanished in an instant. “Uh—nothing. Sorry!” he stammered before bolting out of the shop, the bell jingling violently as the door slammed behind him.

You huffed, rubbing your arms as you looked at the masked man. “Wow, that was scary. Thanks,” you said, your gaze now focused on him. Something about him caught your attention—his peek of black hair beneath the cap, his smooth voice, his familiar presence.

“Hey… wait!” you exclaimed, realization dawning. “You’re that guy—”

He tensed, hands raised defensively. “Wait, wait!” he interrupted, wincing as you grabbed the broom and swatted him with it.

“Why did you just bolt out of here with my precious flower?” you asked, squinting at him suspiciously.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his voice softening. “Something… happened. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.” Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a card and held it out cautiously, still eyeing the broom. “Here, I didn’t pay for the flower. I came back to fix that.”

You took the card skeptically, lowering the broom. He had helped you just now, and honestly, stealing a flower of all things seemed odd for a thief.

Heading back to the counter, you swiped his card and handed it back. “So, did your mom like the flower?”

He nodded, his shoulders relaxing a little. “Oh, yes. She loved it,” he said, a shy smile creeping across his face.

You beamed at him, and your mood instantly lifted. “That’s great! I’m glad it worked out.”

The shop fell into a comfortable quiet as he glanced around. The soft glow of the shop’s lights bathed the room in warmth, the scent of flowers lingering in the air.

“Are you closing?” he asked after a moment, his voice curious.

You clapped your hands, laughing. “Oh! Yes, I am. I completely forgot!” Quickly, you disappeared into the back room, returning moments later with your bag slung over your shoulder and your apron folded in your hands.

“Follow me,” you said with a wave, walking toward the entrance.

He trailed behind you, watching as you locked the door and tucked your keys into your bag. The soft glow of the streetlights cast a warm light over you, and he couldn’t help but notice how pretty you looked under it.

“Well, this is where I say goodbye. Thanks again for earlier,” you said with a small smile.

He hesitated for a moment, then spoke. “Are you heading home? I could take you.” He gestured toward a sleek car parked nearby.

You laughed softly, tilting your head. “I would, but I don’t think it’s smart for a young lady to hop into the car of a man whose name she doesn’t know.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fair point.”

You studied him for a moment, your gaze softening. “But you can walk me to the bus stop over there,” you offered, pointing down the street.

His face lit up, and he nodded eagerly. “Yeah, sure.”

The two of you began walking side by side, the quiet hum of the city filling the space between you. As you reached the bus stop, you turned to him with a smile.

“Thank you again for helping me earlier… and for coming back,” you said, your voice soft.

He nodded, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. “Of course. I guess I owe you for leaving so suddenly yesterday,” he said with a shy laugh.

As your bus approached, he stepped back, the glow of the headlights reflecting in his dark eyes.

“Will you be stopping by again?” you asked, half-teasing, half-hopeful.

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Maybe.”

You smiled as you stepped onto the bus, glancing back at him one last time. Something about him intrigued you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to him than he was letting on.

As the bus pulled away, you caught sight of him standing there, watching you leave, the brim of his cap tilted just enough to shield his face from view.

After that day, he started stopping by your shop around closing time more often. At first, it was casual—an excuse to chat or linger in the comforting atmosphere of the flower shop. But soon, it became a routine you secretly looked forward to.

You learned that Park Sunghoon was funny, sly, and much more interesting than he initially let on. He always seemed more curious about you than willing to talk about himself. Every time you tried to ask questions about his life, he’d expertly change the subject, steering the conversation back to you. It bummed you out a little—not knowing much about him—but the way he listened to you and genuinely seemed interested in your stories made it hard to hold it against him.

Tonight was no different. He strolled in just as the sun dipped below the horizon, setting the shop aglow with warm, golden light.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted, dropping his bag onto one of the chairs near the counter.

You looked up from the bouquets you were prepping, he wasn't wearing his mask today. “Hey, Sunghoon.”

He leaned against the counter, watching as you worked. His gaze softened as you expertly arranged the blooms into delicate patterns.

“Why do you like flowers so much?” he asked suddenly, his voice quieter than usual.

You paused, glancing back at him with the bouquet still in your hands. “Flowers help people express feelings they can’t say. I like to express my love and passion through them, and I think the different meanings of each flower are amazing.”

Sunghoon chuckled, his eyes darting toward the bouquet you were holding—a mix of pink and red roses. “Yeah? And what do those mean?”

“Blooming love,” you replied, holding his gaze for a moment before turning to place the bouquet on display.

He gulped, his fingers nervously fidgeting. “Hey, so, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“Yes?” you asked a little too eagerly, stepping closer.

“Would you like to… I don’t know, go somewhere with me? Sometime? When you’re free?”

You tilted your head, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “I’m free now.”

His eyes widened, and a faint blush crept up his neck. “Now? But I… I didn’t dress up or anything…”

You giggled, waving your hand dismissively. “Neither did I. It doesn’t matter. You look cute.”

He laughed shyly, rubbing the back of his neck before nodding. “Okay, yeah. Let’s go.”

With the shop locked up and the sun lingering just above the horizon, you and Sunghoon walked down the quiet street. The gentle buzz of the city surrounded you, and the scent of flowers still clung to you from the shop.

“So, where are we going?” you asked, glancing up at him.

“I figured we’d just wander a bit, see where we end up,” he said with a small smile. “Unless you have a better idea?”

You shook your head, enjoying the spontaneity. “Nope, that works for me.”

As you walked, you found yourselves at a quaint park tucked away from the busy streets. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, their pink petals floating gently on the breeze.

“This is beautiful,” you murmured, your eyes scanning the scene.

Sunghoon nodded, glancing at you. “Yeah… it is.”

You both settled onto a bench near the pond, where ducks paddled lazily in the water. A food cart nearby caught your attention, and you laughed softly. “Ice cream?”

He followed your gaze and grinned. “Absolutely. Stay here—I’ll get it.”

You watched him jog over to the cart, noticing how relaxed he looked for the first time. When he returned, he handed you a cone with a bashful smile.

“Vanilla,” he said. “I guessed.”

“It’s perfect,” you replied, taking a small bite. “Thanks.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence, enjoying the simplicity of the moment. The warm light of the setting sun danced on the water, and a soft breeze carried the scent of blossoms around you.

“So, Sunghoon,” you said, breaking the silence. “Are you ever going to tell me more about yourself, or are you planning to stay mysterious forever?”

He chuckled, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “I guess I just like listening to you talk.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “That’s sweet, but it’s not an answer.”

He hesitated, then turned to meet your eyes. “Someday. I promise.”

“Can't I even see your full face?” You asked nervously.

He looked at you and thought about it. He has known you for a good bit of time now, you don’t seem to know him for who he is, so he took a risk he hoped he wouldn’t regret. He slowly took the baseball cap off and looked at you with caution.

You slowly smiled and him and looked down. “You shouldn’t hide a handsome face like yours, “ you said giggling.

He blinked and felt heat creep up his neck.

He looked at the bush behind the bench and plucked one of the flowers that was on it. “I don’t know what it means but I can tell It suits you,” he said softly, holding up the pink petal and placing it behind your ear.

You smiled, your heart fluttering. “Thanks.”

After finishing your ice cream, the two of you decided to keep wandering through the park. The cherry blossom trees seemed to create a magical canopy above you, the soft glow of lanterns adding a warm touch to the atmosphere. You noticed Sunghoon stealing glances at you as you walked, but every time you caught him, he’d quickly look away, pretending to admire the scenery instead.

As you neared a small outdoor seating area, you spotted a musician setting up his guitar. A small crowd began gathering, and you nudged Sunghoon with your elbow.

“Let’s sit and listen for a while,” you suggested.

He hesitated for a second before nodding. “Sure, why not?”

The two of you found a seat nearby. The musician strummed a few chords before launching into a soft, acoustic rendition of a pop song. You tapped your fingers against your knees, nodding along to the melody.

“You into music much?” Sunghoon asked casually, leaning back against the bench.

You shrugged. “Not really. I don’t keep up with social media or anything, so I don’t know much about what’s trending. I mostly just listen to whatever’s playing on the radio in the shop.”

Sunghoon froze for a moment, then shifted in his seat, suddenly looking a little too interested in the gravel path in front of him. “Oh… really? No social media?”

“Nope,” you said with a smile. “It’s too exhausting to keep up with. Why?”

He cleared his throat. “Uh, no reason. Just… not many people are like that.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, intrigued by his sudden nervousness. “What about you? You strike me as someone who listens to a lot of music.”

He let out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, you could say that. Music’s kind of… important to me.”

“Oh? What kind of music do you like?”

Before he could answer, the musician transitioned into a song that made a few people in the crowd cheer. You tilted your head, listening closely. The melody was catchy, but you couldn’t place it.

“I think I’ve heard this one before,” you said thoughtfully. “Isn’t it by that group… what are they called again? En… something?”

Sunghoon stiffened beside you. “Enhypen,” he said quickly, his voice a little too steady.

“Yeah, that’s it!” you said, snapping your fingers. “They’re okay, I guess. Some of their songs are nice, but it’s not really my thing.”

He turned to you so fast that you thought he might have hurt his neck. “Okay?” he repeated, his tone slightly incredulous.

You blinked at him, surprised by his reaction. “Uh, yeah? I mean, they’re good, but I wouldn’t go out of my way to listen to them. Why? Are you a fan or something?”

Sunghoon opened his mouth, then closed it again, his expression caught between offense and disbelief. “I—uh…” He scratched the back of his neck, visibly flustered. “You could say I know a lot about them.”

You chuckled, completely unaware of his internal struggle. “Well, that’s cool. I’ve probably heard more of their songs than I realize. You know how it is—songs play everywhere, but you don’t always know who’s singing them.”

Sunghoon nodded stiffly, looking like he was fighting the urge to say something. Finally, he let out a breath and crossed his arms. “Enhypen is… more than just ‘okay.’”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “Wow, you must be a fan. Don’t worry, I’ll give them another chance.”

He grumbled something under his breath, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward in a reluctant smile.

The musician wrapped up his performance, and the crowd began to disperse. As you stood to leave, Sunghoon glanced at you, his nervous energy from earlier now replaced with quiet amusement.

“Let’s make a deal,” he said as you walked side by side.

“A deal?” you repeated, curious.

He nodded. “Every time we hang out, I’ll show you some songs, and you have to give me your honest opinion. But you have to promise to really listen.”

You smiled at him, enjoying the way his confidence seemed to return. “Deal. But only if you tell me more about yourself in return.”

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Deal.”

You and Sunghoon kept going on more and more dates after that first one.

He was always kind and attentive, never pushing boundaries or trying anything beyond the occasional lingering gaze or shy smile. But that’s precisely what started to bother you. You wanted more. You’d made moves to take things further, even inviting him into your apartment after he dropped you off one night. But he’d quickly dismissed himself with a polite excuse.

It honestly made you insecure. Was he just playing with you? Was this something casual for him? You couldn’t help but wonder, especially when he hadn’t even asked you to be his girlfriend yet.

Now, on yet another date, Sunghoon seemed even more cautious than usual, glancing over his shoulder constantly, his cap and mask firmly in place despite the intimate setting.

“Hoon,” you said, frustration creeping into your tone as you set down your fork. “What’s up with you?”

You were at a cozy dinner spot, the kind of place where no one batted an eye at couples sharing shy smiles over candlelight. Yet, Sunghoon seemed distant, his shoulders stiff, his gaze darting around the room like he was expecting something—or someone.

He didn’t respond immediately.

“We’re at dinner, for God’s sake. Why do you still have the mask on?” You sighed, leaning closer to him. “Seriously, can you just talk to me? What’s going on?”

“Listen, Y/N—” he began, but before he could finish, a loud squeal pierced the air.

You turned toward the source of the noise, only to be met with the blinding flashes of cameras. A group of girls was pointing and taking pictures, their excited chatter growing louder by the second.

Sunghoon’s eyes widened in panic. He grabbed your hand and bolted out the door, pulling you behind him as a crowd of fans followed closely.

“Sunghoon!” you gasped, struggling to keep up. “I can’t run much longer!”

“Just hold on! We’re almost there!” he shouted over his shoulder, his grip on your hand tightening.

After weaving through alleys and streets, he led you to a sleek black car parked inconspicuously. He opened the door in a hurry and ushered you inside, quickly jumping in after you. The driver sped off before you even had a chance to process what had just happened.

Out of breath, you turned to look behind you, watching the wave of girls shrink into the distance. Then you shifted your gaze to Sunghoon, who was fixing his disheveled hair.

“What the hell is going on?!” you demanded, your voice trembling with equal parts fear and frustration.

“Sir, where to?” the driver asked calmly as if this were a normal occurrence.

“Her apartment, please,” Sunghoon replied quickly before turning to you with an apologetic expression.

“Y/N, please… I’ll explain everything when we get there. Just—just give me a chance to explain.”

You pulled your hands away from him as he reached for you, your trust shaken.

The car ride was silent, tension thick in the air. You stared out the window, your thoughts spiraling. What could he possibly be hiding that would explain this?

When you finally reached your apartment, you stormed up the stairs, Sunghoon trailing close behind. You unlocked the door and threw your belongings onto the couch, crossing your arms as you glared at him.

“Y/N, please listen—”

But before he could finish, you grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, needing a distraction. The news channel popped up, and you froze when you saw your face on the screen, standing beside Sunghoon.

The headline read: “Park Sunghoon from rising K-pop group ENHYPEN spotted on a date?”

Your head snapped toward him, and his panicked expression told you everything you needed to know.

“Is this some kind of joke?” you asked, your voice dangerously calm.

He shook his head, stepping closer. “No… it’s the truth. I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t want it to change anything between us.”

You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “Didn’t want it to change anything? Sunghoon, if you’d told me this from the beginning, I could’ve understood! But instead, you left me in the dark, and made me question everything!”

His face fell, and he knelt in front of you, his voice breaking. “Y/N, you’re not a joke to me. You’re so much more than that. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid—afraid you’d treat me differently like everyone else does.”

“Is that what you thought of me? After all the time we’ve spent together, that’s what you got?”

He looked up at you, eyes wide with regret. “No, that’s not—”

You shook your head, cutting him off. “I think you should leave, Sunghoon.”

The use of his full name hit him like a blow. He hesitated, looking as though he wanted to argue, but the coldness in your expression stopped him.

“Please… just let me make it up to you,” he begged, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned away. “I need time to think this over.”

He nodded reluctantly, standing and walking to the door. He paused for a moment, looking back at you one last time before stepping out and closing it softly behind him.

As soon as he was gone, the weight of everything hit you all at once. You sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands as sobs wracked your body. The room felt unbearably quiet.

A few hours after the incident with Sunghoon, there was a knock at your door. When you opened it, two men in sharp suits stood there, their expressions professional yet apologetic.

“Miss Y/N?” one of them asked, confirming your identity.

“Yes?” you replied cautiously, your grip tightening on the doorframe.

“We’re representatives from Sunghoon’s agency,” the man said. His tone was calm, but the mention of Sunghoon’s name immediately caused your chest to tighten.

“We need to discuss the current situation,” the other man added. “May we come in?”

You hesitated, debating whether to slam the door in their faces or let them speak. Against your better judgment, you stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter.

The two men sat on your couch, their serious expressions only adding to your unease.

“We’re here to inform you that, due to the recent media coverage and fan activity, it’s in your best interest to lay low for a while,” one of them began. “The situation has escalated, and we’re concerned for your privacy and safety.”

Your heart sank. “Lay low?” you echoed, already dreading where this was going.

“Yes,” the other man confirmed. “The company will compensate you for any financial losses during this time, including your shop’s closure. We’re prepared to cover all expenses until the situation deescalates.”

The mention of your shop caused a lump to form in your throat. “You want me to close my shop?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“It’s only temporary,” the first man assured you. “Once things settle, you can resume your normal routine.”

You nodded numbly, but their words offered no comfort. As the two men stood to leave, they handed you a card with a number to call if you needed anything. “Please don’t hesitate to reach out,” one of them said.

After they left, you shut the door and leaned against it, letting out a shaky breath. The shop was more than just a job to you—it was your sanctuary, the place where you felt most at peace. The thought of staying away from it, from the vibrant blooms and quiet hum of your safe space, only added to the ache in your chest.

The weight of everything was suffocating. You’d already lost your connection with Sunghoon, and now you were being forced to step away from the one thing that gave you solace. It felt as though your entire world was unraveling, piece by piece.

As you sat on the couch staring at the card in your hand, tears welled up in your eyes. You didn’t blame Sunghoon for this—not entirely—but the situation had left you feeling isolated and lost.

Two weeks had passed, and there was still no word from Sunghoon. You knew this silence was your own doing—you had asked for space—but you couldn’t deny that you missed him.

After the incident, Sunghoon had left long strings of heartfelt messages apologizing, explaining, and pleading for you to hear him out. But after a week of silence from you, the messages stopped. The sudden quiet felt heavier than you anticipated, and you hated how much you longed to see his name pop up on your screen again.

The company still hadn’t given you the green light to reopen your shop, leaving you trapped in an endless cycle of isolation and overthinking. The emptiness weighed on you, and your apartment felt colder than usual.

As you sat on the couch, aimlessly scrolling through your camera roll, your heart tightened when you stumbled upon a photo from your first date with Sunghoon. It was a selfie of you both at the park. You were smiling brightly at the camera while Sunghoon, with his cap, pulled low, was looking at you instead of the lens. You couldn’t help but stare at the image, remembering the butterflies you’d felt that day.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a knock at the door. Confused, you got up slowly, not expecting any visitors. When you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat.

There he was, standing in front of you with a bouquet in his hands and a soft, hopeful smile on his lips.

“Hey,” he said gently, his voice calm but nervous.

You looked at the flowers, then back at him. “Hi,” you replied softly, stepping aside to let him in.

Sunghoon entered, turning to face you as you closed the door. Without a word, you walked to the couch and patted the spot beside you, silently asking him to sit. He followed your lead, placing the bouquet on the coffee table before taking a seat next to you.

He took a deep breath before speaking. “Y/N, I can’t even begin to explain how sorry I am,” he began, his voice heavy with guilt. “I’m not great at expressing myself, but I need you to know that I never saw you as a joke. I wasn’t messing with you—not ever.”

You nodded, staying quiet as you listened, your eyes focused on him.

“Every time you tried to get closer to me, I… I panicked,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to his hands. “I kept thinking about who I am, about my life and how messy it can get. I was scared—scared that if we got too close, you’d realize how much baggage I carry and leave. I didn’t want to lose you.”

He looked up, his eyes filled with vulnerability. “But I’ve realized something, Y/N. I can’t just be your friend. I can’t pretend that what I feel for you is anything less than love.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and your heart swelled. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the love he was finally laying bare.

“Hoon…” you started, but he interrupted you.

“I love you,” he confessed, the words tumbling out quickly as if he couldn’t hold them back any longer.

You blinked, stunned for a moment, before a smile spread across your face. Without thinking, you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Your faces were mere inches apart now, and his hands instinctively found their way to your waist. He gazed into your eyes before his gaze dropped to your lips. And then, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer, he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss was slow and sweet, full of the emotions he’d been holding back for so long. Your fingers tangled in his hair, and his arms tightened around you, pulling you closer. As the kiss deepened, he gently eased you back onto the couch, his arm bracing him above you while his other hand cupped your cheek.

When you finally pulled away to catch your breath, he rested his forehead against your shoulder, holding you close. His fingers absentmindedly played with the hem of your shirt as you ran your fingers through his hair.

Your eyes landed on the bouquet on the table, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

He lifted his head, confused. “What’s so funny?”

You gestured to the flowers. “What do these mean, Hoon?”

He glanced at them and scratched the back of his neck. “Well… I didn’t know which flowers to get, so I just grabbed all the red ones. I figured they’d all mean love or something.”

You pointed to one in the arrangement. “That one means death, you know.”

His eyes widened in panic. “What?! That’s not what Google said!” He quickly reached for the bouquet, inspecting it frantically.

You burst into laughter, clutching your stomach. It took him a moment to realize you were teasing him. He groaned, leaning back with a playful glare. “Not funny, Y/N.”

Still laughing, you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “It was a little funny.”

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The day before, Sunghoon had been pacing in the practice room, his phone in hand.

“What flowers should I get her?” he muttered, scrolling through countless search results.

“Sunghoon, please, just pick one and go talk to her already,” Sunoo groaned from the couch, watching his friend spiral.

“You don’t get it” Sunghoon snapped. “Flowers are really important to her.”

“Then just get her roses,” Riki chimed in from the corner. “Simple but classic.”

“She deserves more than simple,” Sunghoon mumbled, still fixated on his phone.

“Sunghoon!” Riki and Sunoo yelled in unison, exasperated.

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