#you’re being so loud lmfao

[internet-overdosed]

i wonder why i’m so stupid and useless lmfao HWAHAGGSGSGSGD

[yuwuta]

can i say something

[paarksunghoon]

you always leave the most thoughtful comments, and for that I am so grateful 🫂

grocery store receipts (sunghoon)

SUMMARY: your hot neighbor seems to have everything you don’t: charm, confidence, and a sense of direction in life. you’ve managed to keep to yourself in the time you’ve lived across from his apartment but the holiday season brings brings out unresolved feelings, and you find that the best present of all has always been standing right in front of you.

WORD COUNT: 31.5K.

PLAYLIST: I ended up making one for this fic

NOTES: consider this a love letter to sunghoon. this story had three plots before it became what it is right now. I’m not somebody who generally enjoys the holidays but wish I could be, so this is a bit of a diary entry, of sorts. (me to me: it’s really not that serious.)

and thanks to @moonstruck-muses for being the best person I know…I love who I am when I’m with you and I’m so grateful that you ended up tagging along to oomf’s house all those months ago. kinda hilarious that I knew you’d be a jake girl before you did, but I think that sums up the kind of friendship we have. 🩷

WARNINGS: fluff & angst, mentions of poor childhoods and bad parental relationships, a whole lot of Christmas talk, smut in the form of: dry humping, oral (f. receiving), missionary, sunghoon’s kinda obsessed with her chest, multiple orgasms, fingering. unprotected sex, creampie, and typos, probably.

MASTERLIST

****

“Did you bring the sweater?”

Jake holds up a large white paper bag and pulls out the fabric, pushing the decorative detail in your direction. “Boom. You’ll win the ugly sweater competition, no doubt.”

“It’s not a contest.” You take the bag from him and Jake beams at you with that boyish smile he has when he gets excited about something. You feel a bit soft that he’s excited for you. “But thank you for letting me borrow it.” 

Heeseung grabs the sweater and holds it up in front of him. “This…is something else. Why do you have it in the first place?”

“It’s got a disco dance floor with breakdancing gingerbread men,” Jake deadpans. “It’s snowing inside the club. Why wouldn’t I buy it?”

Jay laughs. “He saw it at a thrift store last Christmas and bought it on a whim. I don’t think he’s worn it, so it’s good that you’re taking it off his hands.”

“I still want it back even if I have nowhere to wear it to.” 

You bump Jake’s hip. “You could always wear it to run errands.” 

He makes a face. “I’m not that crazy.” 

Heeseung folds the sweater and puts it back in the bag before handing it off to you for safekeeping when all four of you walk deeper into the bar. It’s cold outside. It’s the kind of weather that has you layered up in a scarf and a large peacoat that shields you from the chilly bite of the air. Summer has long passed and spring isn’t for another few months, and the joy you feel from the temperature dropping echoes within the warm bar you find yourself in. The juxtaposition of snowy air met with a warm furnace feels comforting in all of the right ways.

You offer to get a table and hum in appreciation with Jay and Jake volunteer to split the first round. They know your order on a weekday evening—whiskey sour—because you don’t like to go overboard when you have to wake up early the next morning. Heeseung slides into the booth beside you and nudges your shoulder.

“Are you still interested in the Marketing Lead position? I heard Kang Eunji’s transferring to the Tokyo office and that the company is looking to hire internally.”

“Now how would you know that, Lee Heeseung?” He shrugs with an uptick to the corner of his mouth.

“I have my ways.”

“Did you, by any chance, flirt with our floor’s secretary to get this information?” 

Heeseung’s cheeks reddens. “It’s not my fault that she’s into me, okay?! I’ve turned her down plenty of times because I don’t do workplace relationships, but I’ll make an exception if that means helping my best friend get promoted.”

“Poor girl. She probably thinks you’re stringing her along.” Heeseung rolls his eyes.

“I’m doing nothing of that sort. I just smiled at her, complimented her dress, and asked if the rumors about Eunji leaving were true.” 

“You walk through life getting everything you want handed to you, huh?” Heeseung smiles innocently but the two of you end up sharing a laugh. 

“I’m serious, though. I don’t know how much I can help since everybody in the office knows we’re close. They’ll definitely think I bias you over other candidates.”

“Don’t you?” 

“Well yeah, but let’s consider there are a few other people whose words matter more than mine.” 

“That is awfully nice of you. I’m a little concerned that you might have something up your sleeve but I appreciate you.” 

He laughs. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you have a good Christmas.” The boyish smile he wears makes you feel tender but you push against him anyway.

“You’re a little scary when you’re nice to me.” 

“What? I can’t be nice to the girl who spilled hot coffee down my shirt the first time we met?”

You mumble. “I’m clumsy.”

“Are we talking about you being an absolute klutz?” Jay puts your drink in front of you. “If so, do you remember the time we were playing tennis in my backyard and you tripped over grass?”

“Okay, okay! I get it. I have terrible coordination and fine motor skills.” You hide your smile behind the glass and thank them for the drink before Jake speaks up.

“You’ll have to send me a picture of you in the sweater. I want to put it up in my fridge, or something. What’s it for anyway?”

“The company Heeseung and I work at hosts spirit month every holiday season,” you explain. “Every Friday is casual dress day, but starting in the first week of November, there’s a holiday theme and I think it’s fun to dress up.”

“I’m surprised at how many people do it,” Heeseung chimes in.

“I’m sure we can find one day that works for you.”

“I’ll only consider dressing up if you can make it look tasteful.”

“Please just dress up once,” you beg. “You can wait until it gets close to Christmas. Besides, you’d look good in some of the categories.”

“What are the themes?” Jay asks.

“Next week is Winter Wonderland and the week after that is Red Day. I’m pretty sure there’s a Pajama Day somewhere.”

“Well, I might show up to the office in sweats.”

“That’s the spirit!”

“I wish my job did something fun.” Jake pouts behind his beer. “I’m in a lab all day so even if I wore something festive, it’s covered by a white coat.”

Jay laughs. “You act like being able to wear a white coat is a bad thing.”

“It is when you can’t see break dancing gingerbread men.”  

“Have you guys started Christmas shopping?” Heeseung stares at the drink in his hand as if a lightbulb hangs over his head. “All this holiday talk made me realize I haven’t started thinking about what to get my friends and family. I have absolutely no idea what to get you guys.”

“You could get me a free week at your client’s fancy hotel.” Heeseung looks at Jay and deadpans, whereas the younger boy laughs.

“I’d get myself a weekend vacation before I give it to you.” He sighs. “It would be fun if all four of us could go on a vacation away from Seoul, though. No worries, no work, and no responsibilities.”

“The lab’s slowing down and I’ve made a list of people I need to give gifts to.” Jake pulls his phone out and shows everybody the note on his phone, aptly titled ‘CHRISTMAS PRESENTS FOR THE HOMIES.’ You try to see what he’s put beside your name but he pulls his phone away faster than you can read.

Jay looks at you. “I’ll bet you've been prepared since summer.”

“I’m only put together when it comes to the holidays, Jay.”

“Does that mean you have most of your gifts wrapped?” 

You nod proudly. “You know me too well.”

“I want to know what you got me.” 

“Nope, no guessing.”

“I don’t think you can beat last year’s gift for him,” Jake snickers. “Poor Jay almost had a heart attack when you were able to get his guitar signed by Hisashi Tonomura since you worked with him for a campaign.” 

“That was tricky because I didn’t know how to ask for your guitar without tipping you off.”

“I knew you wanting to learn how to play was a bullshit excuse,” Jay says with a laugh. “But looking back at it now, that really was a great gift.” 

Heeseung raises his eyebrows at you suggestively. “Are you getting anything for your cute next door neighbor?” You aren’t tipsy by any means, but the mere mention of the hot guy who lives across the hall from your apartment makes your cheeks feel warm. The guys laugh when you look away from them and you hear their laughter ringing in your ears as you try to maintain your shyness.

“No, Heeseung. It would be weird of me to get a gift for someone I barely know.”

“Maybe you should!” Jake nudges your knee with the tip of his shoe. “You guys could fall in love for all anybody knows.” 

You smile weakly. “I’m too scared to talk to him. He’s so…hot.” 

Jay snorts. “So you tell us.” 

Your neighbor, who you and the guys have dubbed ‘The Stranger,’ moved into your building nearly a year ago. In that time, you haven’t mustered up the courage to say anything to him. You keep it at awkward eye contact when you see him leaving or arriving at the same time and begin daydreaming the minute you lock your door behind you. His dark hair, striking brown eyes, and pouty lips is enough to make him the subject of your waking thoughts. 

Your friends seem to overestimate your confidence and encourage you to talk to The Stranger, but your resolve crumbles every time you make eye contact with him. Surely a man like that belongs only in fairy tale books or those cliché romance novels middle-aged women seem to like so much. He’s always impeccably dressed with fitted clothing and a clean face that never seems to have blemishes. He must be well off because you recognize name brands adorning his chiseled body.

His demeanor intimidates you too. The Stranger always stands with his chin parallel to the floor and walks with his shoulder held back as if invisible books were stacked on top of his head. The way he carries himself makes you think he’s confident and it intimidates you because you’re anything but. The Stranger is always polite, acknowledging you if he happens to see you around your shared hallway, but he remains aloof with barely a glance before disappearing. He is every bit tall, dark, and handsome, and you’re a little too unsure of yourself to ever make the first move. 

Heeseung, your closest friend since you moved to Seoul, always tells you there’s nothing to fear and that rejection isn’t the end of the world. You try to take his advice but Heeseung is the type of person who never has never had to worry about rejection because people are lining up the doors for him. He’s got a charming personality that almost certainly helped secure his promotion at the company you two work. He’s also got enough charisma and good looks to hook women in. Heeseung doesn’t have to lift a finger to get anybody to pay attention to him. Besides, you’d rather live in this yearning stage of your life than face the awkwardness of seeing him after he rejects you. 

(“If he rejects you,” you hear Heeseung’s voice say in the back of your mind.)

It’s the same for Jay and Jake, too. They’re both incredibly handsome and know their way around people, even if they’re a bit shy at times. Jake especially, who has a clear accent in the way he speaks, can easily make friends with anybody at the mere mention of the way he speaks. Jay attracts people left and right because of his chiseled jawline and the fact that he’s musically gifted, and people stay because he’s incredibly compassionate and attentive.

You love your friends because they’re wonderful people who always seem to know how you’re feeling and what you’re thinking before you can tell them. But you’re a little bit envious that the world seems to work out for them without doing too much. You find that your experiences have the opposite outcome and you’ve had your fair share of rejection stories across every aspect of your life. All of your insecurities have been with you from childhood until now, and trying to be the bigger person is becoming harder every single day. It’s probably what keeps you from doing anything but approach the attractive man that lives across from you. The Stranger is simply somebody too beautiful and you aren’t sure if you’re worthy enough to be somebody he can look at. 

“He’s hot and single.” Heeseung puts his hand on his chin. “Doesn’t seem like a problem to me.” 

“We don’t know that he’s single.”

“I wish I knew what he looked like.” Jake pouts at his beer. “Who doesn’t have an Instagram or social media?” 

“You’re one to talk. You barely post on Instagram and every picture you have is outdated. I’m pretty sure the only person who cares enough is Jay.” 

The aforementioned speaks next. “Has he ever brought girls home before?” 

You shrug. “I don’t think so?” 

“There you have it. He’s single, hot, and you should make a move on him! You never know what’ll happen.” 

“Can we drop it?” you ask, starting to feel a bit restless where you sit. “It’ll happen if it’s meant to happen.” Jake sits back and tries to hide his sulk, although you know he only wants the best for you so you try not to feel annoyed. 

“Are any of you going home for the holidays?” Jay asks to break the silence. 

“Probably not,” Heeseung replies. “My family wanted to go somewhere tropical and spending time in the heat doesn’t sound too good to me. I’ll probably see them when they get back and make a weekend out of it.” 

“Same here.” Jake finishes off the rest of his beer. “My brother’s coming from Brisbane and my parents are spending it back home, but we agreed to meet up next year since they visited Seoul a few months back. You?”

“Staying here because my extended family will be here for a week or so. I’ve got some family obligations but they told me to take it easy now that I’m living on my own.” 

“Sounds like you guys will be bothering each other even more now, huh?”

Jay laughs. “Yeah, I guess so. What about you? Are you going back home this year?” 

You look down at your hands. “I don’t know yet. My mom keeps asking if she should expect me to come home but I’ve put off making that decision for a long time. It’s just hard, you know? After dealing with my dad and everything that went down a few years ago…I don’t know if I’m ready to go back.” 

Her voice lingers in the back of your head the more you think about it. You don’t talk to her often and leave phone calls with her around two to three times a week. She sends you Instagram reels she thinks are funny and you do your best to laugh at them too. But the reality is that talking to her about the holidays reminds you of everything you’re running away from. 

It’s been four years since you moved for a fresh start after university. Seoul used to be so big and enticing compared to the small fishing town you hail from. The streets smell like delicious savory and sweet goods instead of the raw stench of live bait and wet creatures. The lights that illuminate the night sky due to the gargantuan billboards make you feel like this city never truly sleeps because the next adventure is at arm’s length. It’s what you’ve craved for so long and now that you have it, going back to your neighborhood is starting to make you feel guilty for achieving one of your dreams and leaving everything behind. 

Your friends seem to know what’s running through your head. You’ve been this way every winter since they met you. Heeseung gently nudges your arm with his elbow to pull you out of your thoughts. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, okay? We’ll be here for you.”

“I know. I just feel guilty for not going back home since I moved. It’s a two hour train ride but I can’t bring myself to buy the ticket. It’s so hard to be in a place that brings you bad memories.”

“We’ll keep you company this Christmas,” Jake promises. “We aren’t going anywhere so there’s no reason for you to be alone.” 

“Thanks, guys. I’m sorry that I brought the mood down.” 

“What else is drinking at bars for if not to lament about the sad shit?” Jake smiles when that pulls a laugh out of you. 

“Yeah, you’re right. But if I’m hungover at work tomorrow, it’s your fault.”

***

Despite a difficult conversation that sparked haunting nostalgic memories to resurface at once, you managed to keep your drinking to a minimum and stopped yourself after a single cocktail. Heeseung dropped you off and promised to be back to carpool to work tomorrow, and the last thing you thought about before sleeping was The Stranger. 

Your under eye bags aren’t as groggy as they are when you’d drink the night away, but they still feel heavy underneath you. Moisturizer and concealer can only do so much to get rid of the dark circles on your face so you make do and send a silent prayer that you’ll look decent for the entire day. Jake’s ugly sweater hangs perfectly against your dresser and you do your best to style around the atrocious design, but it makes you smile to see such a ridiculous piece of clothing on your body. It reminds you that the holidays are beginning and you try to think about all of the festivities in the area instead of the looming doom of going back to your hometown during this time of year. You take a quick picture of yourself and send it in the group chat, thanking Jake for the impeccably horrible sweater. Once your work bag is packed, Heeseung tells you he’s parked outside of your apartment building. 

You step outside and lock your door only to be greeted by The Stranger.

He blinks when he takes note of the dancing gingerbread men and cocks his head trying to make sense of him. The Stranger, on the other hand, is wearing a fitted longsleeve shirt that nearly molds around the muscles of his arm and baggy pants that somehow make him seem taller than you recall. His hands are adorned with silver jewelry and his shoes look like they might be as expensive as your monthly rent. You’re starting to feel the juxtaposition of your outfit compared to his when he looks at you and the design of the fabric feels heavy on your shoulders.

“That is an ugly sweater.” The Stranger widens his eyes and the tips of his ears turn a shade of pink when his words finally register. “I just mean that your sweater is…interesting.” 

You can’t help but laugh. “It’s alright. This sweater is really ugly.” 

“Any particular reason as to why you’re wearing it, then?” 

“Today’s a holiday spirit day at work,” you explain to him. “Every Friday has a different theme and today just so happens to be Ugly Sweater Day.”

“I hope you get a consolation prize because, wow…that truly is an atrocious piece of clothing.”

The two of you start to make your way towards the elevator, and stand in awkward silence as you wait for it to reach your floor. You see him stealing glances at the design and feel your neck warming up, and start to wish you could take it off. The thought of this outfit being The Stranger's first impression of you makes you feel humiliated, but Heeseung is waiting for you outside and Jake didn’t give it to you just for it to hang in your closet. 

The chime alerts you to the doors opening and The Stranger allows you to get in first. You're about to press the button for the lobby when he beats you to it. You settle into an uncomfortable silence, resisting the urge to itch your palms and shift awkwardly to avoid drawing attention to yourself. Everything about him screams opulence, from the way he stands to the way his cologne smells. You aren’t sure that you can name the notes in the scent, but it smells extremely expensive. Even the way he stands makes you feel like you should fix your posture. 

“I’m Sunghoon,” says The Stranger. His deep voice echoes in the elevator and your throat feels dry as you tell him your name. “I’ll remember that for when we inevitably run into each other.” 

The lobby is fairly empty but you can see the hustle and bustle of city life when you look past the glass walls. Heeseung is sitting in his car, scrolling on his phone when Sunghoon opens the door for you and lets you walk out in front of him. You feel him looking at you and turn around one last time. He takes one more look at the sweater and nods. 

“Well, uh, have a good spirit day at work.”

“T-Thanks!” 

You don’t wait for his reaction and turn around to walk towards Heeseung’s car that you noticed has been recently washed. He unlocks the doors when he hears you tugging on the handles and looks at the sweater before bursting out into laughter.

“Jesus, that sweater is so fucking ugly.” 

“Thanks.” 

When you don’t put your seatbelt on, Heeseung turns to see that you’re looking outside of the window. He darts his eyes to see if he can catch a glimpse of your line of sight but comes up empty. You look fresh for this hour of the morning and Heeseung wonders if the smile on your face is because of the upcoming spirit day. 

“What are you looking at?”

You whip your head to your friend, who looks at you quizzically. “You will not believe who I talked to this morning.” 

“Who? Santa?” Heeseung looks at the photo you sent in the group chat earlier. “Nice selfie, by the way. You look like an elf.”

You swat his shoulder. “No, dummy.”

“Then who did you meet?” 

“My neighbor.” Heeseung’s jaw drops and you swat his shoulder again. He winces, but you can’t find it in yourself to care too much and buckle yourself to his passenger seat. “We gotta get to work. Drive and I’ll tell you.”

He grips the wheel and starts the fifteen minute journey. “Did you finally introduce yourself to him?” 

“Not quite. We walked out of our apartments at the same time. He said, and I quote, ‘That is an ugly sweater.’”

“I don’t know whether to be happy or sorry for you.”

“I feel stupid because of all the days I had to run into him, it had to be today.” Heeseung’s seat warmers make it all that more enticing to sulk. You tug at the hem and inspect the design, feeling somewhat regretful that you chose to participate in today’s spirit day. “I told him a little bit about why I’m wearing it and he seemed to think it was funny.” 

“Does he smell good?” You flick Heeseung’s arm, who laughs in the driver’s seat.

“Shut up. But yeah, he really does.” 

“What’s his name?” 

“Sunghoon.” Your mouth curves into a smile. 

“Sunghoon. Nice name. Sounds fancy.” 

“I guess so. He does wear a lot of name brands and high luxury fashion.”

“His name definitely suits him, then.” 

To nobody’s surprise, you have the best ugly sweater throughout the office. More people participated than you and Heeseung had originally guessed and the holiday-themed snacks your division manager provided was enough to boost office morale. The weather outside is getting darker earlier and you even feel a bit restless after sitting in your office for a while. 

Heeseung watches you from behind your frosted doors as he talks to the floor secretary to order files and copies of his projects, and the sight of you in that horrendous sweater with a smile on your face makes him smile too. You’ve looked like that the entire day, from picking you up and throughout lunch, and Heeseung wonders if could ever convince you to make a move on your neighbor since you talk about him so much. He doesn’t know how much longer he can listen to your fantasies while being extremely shy to strike a conversation with him. 

He turns to the group chat he has with Jay and Jake. You’re notably absent from this text thread (as told by the name of the group chat) and they use it to discuss anything deemed ‘guy stuff’ (most infamously when you text “TAKE THIS ELSEWHERE” when they start getting too boyish for your taste).

The Gentlemen’s Club 

heeseung: GUYS. She met her neighbor this morning

heeseung: His name is Sunghoon and he saw her with Jake’s ugly sweater

heeseung: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

jake: IS HE CUTE

heeseung: I think so. She was blushing the entire car ride here and could barely say anything until we parked 

jake: fuck yea. i trust her taste in men because she thinks byeon wooseok and kim jaeyoung are hot. they’re gonna fall in love guys 

jay: If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Jake had one too many cups of coffee  

jake: well yes BUT u know me and you know i think they’ll have a meet cute

heeseung: Technically they already had one. Although I don’t if I’d call it a meet cute since he called your sweater ugly to her face

jake: whatever. you know what I mean. we should find out what he looks like 

jay: And how are we gonna do that?   

jake: idk maybe throw a little get together this weekend

heeseung: That’s a little soon, no? 

jake: next weekend then. 

jake: I can host at my place. tell her to bring whoever she wants. I need an excuse for a housewarming anyway 

jay: You moved in three months ago tho??

jake: it’s time to have one now!!!! I’ll text the group chat with all of us 

Heeseung switches to the group chat with you in it. 

The Family Unit:

jake: housewarming. my place. next saturday. 6pm. bring food 

jay: If you’re throwing the party, why do we need to bring the food

jake: because I am hosting god knows how many people and I cannot afford all of that 

heeseung: We can figure this out later 

you: Jaeyun, didn’t you move in three months ago ???

jay: THAT’S WHAT I SAID.

jake: we can have an official party now!!!!. bring whoever you want as long as they’re cool

you: Say less!!! I’m there. I’ll bring dessert

jake: 🤤

jay: Can I leave this group chat?

It’s painfully boring for the rest of the day as you all tie up loose ends before 6 PM hits, but you power through it and let your assistant go home for the day. With the weekend looming near after sending a few more emails, you swear you can feel the tension exiting your body. Heeseung knocks on your door and steps inside as you send one last message to a client. 

“You should invite Sunghoon.” 

“To what?” you ask him, temporarily clouded by end-of-week work stress.

“To Jake’s housewarming, dude. It’s the perfect excuse to talk to him again.” You sit back in your chair and look at him as he sits in front of you. 

“I don’t think I have the guts to do that.”

“It’s easy. Knock on his door and tell him there’s gonna be free food and drinks next weekend.”

You scoff. “Easy for you to say. You’re like a magnet. People are drawn to you because you have no problem socializing with people you don’t know.”

“You and I are friends, aren’t we? I must be doing something right.”

“Meeting at work four years ago hardly counts as socializing. It was forced proximity.” Heeseung puts his hand over his heart and pretends to cry.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I like being friends with you and you aren’t as awkward as you think you are. I think Sunghoon, or anyone for that matter, would feel that way too. You just need to put yourself out there.”

You slump back in your desk chair. “I know…It’s hard to push myself to get to know someone, though. It’s like there’s an invisible line I can’t seem to cross and it gets worse when I talk to people I find attractive. He’s like, really hot.”

“You talk to me every day and do just fine.” Expertly, he dodges when you throw a pen at him and laughs when you grunt in dissatisfaction. “What are you so scared of?”

“I don’t know. Looking like an idiot, for one. He’s so beautiful and I don’t feel worthy of him.”

“He’s a man, first of all,” Heeseung deadpans, “so he’s already beneath you.”

“Wow, so you do listen to my I-hate-men rants.”

“Yeah, because I care about you and men suck.”

“You and the guys especially when you won’t leave my apartment.” 

“But your apartment is so cozy.” You threaten to throw another pen and smile when he flinches. 

“I’m afraid of making things awkward if he doesn’t want to get to know me like that. We’ve acknowledged that we’re neighbors and all, but what if I ask him to come to Jake’s party, he says no, and thinks I’m a weirdo and a creep for asking him that after one conversation?”

“Then he’s a weirdo for being creeped out. Anyone who gets offended by being invited somewhere is weird. You’re a nice person trying to do a nice thing. There’s nothing wrong with making friends.”

Heeseung is right, like he typically always is, and you ponder on his words. Since the first time you saw Sunghoon, you’ve treated him as some fictitious crush that exists only within your head and muse over the small interactions and indulge yourself when thinking about him. Romance seems far fewer in between and you choose to stick to television shows and books that make your heart flutter instead of going on multiple dates just to find out the two of you aren’t compatible. 

It feels like an endless cycle of hopelessness at times. You’ll watch your friends fall in love and try to empathize with that kind of unfiltered joy that comes with knowing somebody loves you just as much as you love them, but you fall flat when the reality weighs in. You don’t think you’ve ever fallen in love or have felt anything remotely close to falling for someone so deeply that you lose yourself in it. It’s probably a good thing, but the yearning doesn’t seem to end even though you know it’s for the best. 

Pinning all of the qualities you’d want in a boyfriend on the stranger next door seemed like a safe bet because you never thought about the possibility of getting to know him. Sunghoon is someone who is as quiet as a mouse, never making too much noise when he’s in his apartment. He’s a model tenant who always pays his bills on time and never causes a disturbance to the building. Facing the reality that is perceiving him as anything but what your imagination conjured up makes you a little uneasy. You admire from afar but the idea of a hot guy looking in your direction makes you feel somewhat unworthy of their attention. 

“I’ll think about it,” is all you offer. Heeseung seems to be pleased at your answer and doesn’t pry any further. “Are you done with work?”

“Yup. I decided everything else could wait until Monday and sent my assistant home.” 

“Look at us being good managers.”

“We’re everything we said we would ve and then some.” Heeseung grabs your pea coat from the closet and helps you put it on when you round the corner of your desk one sleeve at a time. “Do you remember Song Bitna?”

“How could I ever forget,” you scoff, retrieving your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “She used to make us run laps and get upset that our work wasn’t completed.”

“She made me go on more personal errands than anything work related. It’s a wonder how I managed to get promoted.”

You push the door to your office open and say goodnight to your remaining coworkers. “There’s a reason why we’re here and she isn’t. It’s good to know we aren’t shitty bosses.”

“I hope so. Sometimes I get in my own head and wonder if I’m managing everything correctly. I want my assistant to learn from me, you know?” Heeseung allows you to step into the elevator before walking in after you. 

“Yeah, but you’re good at everything you do. You should have more faith in yourself.” He nudges your shoulder with his own.

“You should take your own advice.” You bite your lip and look down at the floor. “You’ve got a week. Think about it, okay?”

“I will.” 

“I was serious about the promotion as well. I’ll put in a good word but you should consider talking to the division lead.”

Classic Heeseung. He looks out for you in more ways than one. 

***

The weekend flies by too quickly for your liking and you find yourself at your desk on a Wednesday afternoon with a cup of tea sitting between your hands to warm up your palms. The building’s central heater stopped working a few hours into the workday, leaving you and many other office workers disgruntled and cold. You shut all of your windows and paced around your office to keep your blood circulating throughout your body. The morning was fairly productive until the heating went out and you've spent the last hour replying to emails with cold fingers, pushing any and all thoughts of Sunghoon out of your mind. 

You haven’t seen him since last Friday. Sunghoon doesn’t seem to have a routine that he sticks to–one that you can identify, anyway–because you didn’t run into him for the past three days. You waited anxiously by the elevator to see if he would come barreling down the hallway and ask you to hold the door for him, but each day was met with empty silence before stepping into Heeseung’s car. 

True to your word, you spent Saturday trying to convince yourself to ask if he’d be interested in coming with you to Jake’s housewarming party. You’d wane from decision to decision, telling yourself there’s nothing inherently wrong with asking somebody if they want to hang out, but the irrational side of your brain convinced you that it would be weird to open up that kind of dialogue with a stranger. You don’t know anything about him and he doesn’t know the first thing about you. But that’s what getting to know someone consists of, doesn’t it? 

Before you knew it, Sunday came around and it was starting to get dark outside your window. The urge to curl up into your blankets and spend the rest of the evening watching Netflix was too tempting. The more you watched your TV, the more you stared at your front door. It would take a minute, maybe two at the most, to ask Sunghoon if he’d like to come with you to Jake’s. The worst thing he could do is decline your invitation. He seemed nice enough on Friday when he saw you wearing the ugly sweater and you suppose he’d be nice about letting you down gently. But even so, rejection stings. 

Your feet carried you outside of your apartment door to knock on his. You waited with your heartbeat loud in your ears but heard nothing from the other end of the door. When you peeked down at the small gap below you, there weren’t any shadows or anything indicating that Sunghoon was home. Still, you knocked once more for good measure and waited thirty seconds to see if he would open the door. Even though the most logical explanation is that your neighbor wasn’t home, heat crept up your neck and splashed onto your cheeks as you quickly made your way back inside of your apartment. With the twist of the lock behind you, your couch and TV brought some much needed comfort and distraction from feeling embarrassed. 

Heeseung hadn’t asked you about Sunghoon on Monday or Tuesday, but seemed to remember when Jake sent a reminder earlier this morning. He swung by your office as the temperature dipped and you updated him on what transpired over the weekend with a defeated sigh. Ever the optimist, Heeseung told you to try again tonight since you might have a better chance at catching Sunghoon during a weeknight. 

The day goes by slower than you’d like and when Heeseung drops you off at your apartment, you make a dash for your sanctuary and rid yourself of the day’s grime by spending a long time underneath the hot shower. Work is simultaneously ramping up and slowing down as everyone is trying to complete projects before winter recess and you feel all of the tension leave your body once the hot water soothes over your shoulder blades. It’s still relatively early in the evening when your hair is half dry and you’ve just finished eating dinner. The entire time you wash your dirty dishes, your mind can’t help but wander towards Sunghoon and what Heeseung said earlier about trying to ask him again. Surely he’s in his apartment at this hour on a Wednesday evening. 

You decide to bite the bullet. After grabbing the cardigan that rests on the back of your couch, you put it on and decide against changing into your shoes since you’ll be stepping out for just a few minutes. Sunghoon’s door stares back at you as you close your own behind you and this time, you can hear the soft sounds of R&B behind it. 

This makes your heart rate pick up speed because the real possibility that you’ll be face to face with Sunghoon becomes too real for you to handle. You could barely utter complete sentences to him last week. What makes you think you could do it now? The same scenarios of rejection and humiliation ruminate in your mind the longer you stand outside. You contemplate going back inside but the thought of telling Heeseung you chickened out and seeing a potentially disappointed expression on his face makes you knock on Sunghoon’s door. 

Unlike the last time, you hear the sound of slippers shuffling against a hardwood floor. The lights are on from what you can tell underneath the gap of the door and you start to panic when you see a shadowy figure blocking that light. You assume Sunghoon must be looking through the peephole and resist the urge to fix your hair in case it looks horrible. The door opens momentarily.

“Hey. What’s up?” Sunghoon wears a pair of dark green sweatpants and a large graphic t-shirt that makes him look like the stereotypical boy next door. You look up at him and gulp.  

“Sorry to bother you,” you apologize, suddenly feeling a lump growing in the back of your throat. 

“You’re not bothering me,” Sunghoon says it with a smile. He opens the door wider. “Do you want to come inside?” You don’t really want to because you’re afraid you might trip and fall on your way inside, but you take up his offer anyway.

“Sure.” It comes out as a squeak.

His apartment is tidy and well kept with artwork adorning the walls in his living room. It’s more spacious than your own and his furniture makes the room look bigger than it probably is, with couches against the wall and a large TV in front of it. There are photographs hung in silver frames and pictures of people you don’t recognize, along with shelves of knick knacks and other small statues you assume are artwork he’s acquired over time. Sunghoon’s living room gives you the impression that he’s somebody who cares about taking care of himself and his space. He sees that you’re particularly drawn to the photo gallery on his wall and you feel him standing next to you.

“I took most of these pictures.” 

“Are you a photographer?”

“Not professionally, no. Photography is a hobby of mine.” 

“You’re really good.” 

“Thank you.” Sunghoon looks at you before averting his gaze back to the photo wall. “My mom gave me my first camera when I was eleven and I took it with me everywhere I went. Are you a photographer too?” 

You shake your head. “Oh no, I don’t have an artistic eye like you do. But I appreciate good photos when I see them, or so I’d like to think.” Sunghoon smiles at that.

“I’m glad you think my photographs are worthy of praise. This is the first photo I ever took.” He points to an image of a young girl in the center of the photo gallery, whose short arms are reaching for the camera. She wears an infectious smile on her face that reveals a dimple on the side of her cheek. 

“Wow, you were really good even back then. Who is she, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

“That’s my younger sister,” Sunghoon says with a fond smile. “I got this camera on my birthday and she wanted to see it after my dad helped me set it up. I think this might be my favorite photo I’ve ever taken.” 

“It’s a great shot.” You compliment Sunghoon sincerely and turn your head to look at him. He clears his throat. 

“What is it that you came here for?” 

“Oh, right!” Sheepishly balancing on both of your feet, you clasp your hands behind your back and lick your lips. “I, um, well…One of my best friends is hosting a housewarming party at his apartment, and I wanted to know if you’d like to come with me.” 

Sunghoon points at himself. “Me?” You nod. “I didn’t think we were that close.” You try not to let him see how embarrassed you are. 

“Sorry, it’s probably weird that I asked you even though we barely know each other, right?” It seems as though your brain cannot stop you from speaking, a habit you have every time you begin to feel nervous. You start to back away towards his front door. “It’s just that, well, we’ve been neighbors for almost a year and I thought to myself, why not make new friends? My friend told me to invite anybody I wanted to and we have a lot of the same friends, so I knew they’d be there too.” You wince at the sound of your voice. “Anyway, I’m sorry for bothering you and for asking.” 

Sunghoon shakes his head and grabs the doorknob before you can. “You’ve got it all wrong. I’m honored that you invited me, actually. Living by yourself gets kind of lonely at times. It’s nice to go somewhere that isn’t home for a few hours. I’m a bit of an introvert and would like to make more friends.” 

“You don’t seem like an introvert to me,” you blurt out before slapping your palm over your mouth. “I mean, you’re doing just fine with me.”

He smiles at you. “Yeah, I guess I am.” 

“My friend’s a great host and loves meeting new people. You’ll make at least one friend by the time you leave. Even if you don’t, there’s gonna be food there, so you’ll have a free meal out of it.” 

“Should I bring anything?” 

You shake your head. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“I feel like I shouldn’t come there empty handed if it’s a housewarming.” 

“I’m making peppermint brownies,” you tell him. “I’ll say it’s from both of us.” 

Sunghoon seems to be satisfied with your answer. “When’s the party?” 

“This Saturday at six. We could, uh, go together? If you want to, that is.” 

“It makes sense to go together. Do you drive? I can drive us if you don’t.” 

“No, I don’t drive.” Your cheeks feel warm at your admission and you don’t know why your inability to operate a car makes you feel a bit bashful. Sunghoon doesn’t seem to mind, though. 

“Okay, I’ll drive us. Where does your friend live?”

“Not too far. He’s about twenty minutes from us.” 

“I’ll knock on your door around 5:30,” Sunghoon says with a single nod. He reaches around you to open his door for you. 

“Sounds good!” Sunghoon smiles and waves before saying goodnight. You watch him as the door closes and rush back into your apartment with your heart hammering in your chest as you sit on your couch and text Heeseung about everything that just transpired. When he asks if you asked for Sunghoon’s number, you slouch. You didn’t think about that and now you’re too embarrassed to back and ask for it. 

Three days pass by quicker than you anticipated and your plate of peppermint brownies sits covered in tin foil on your kitchen counter as you wait for Sunghoon to knock on your door. You spent the entirety of the day worrying about the sweet treat and giving yourself enough time to get ready. Perhaps it’s a bit worrisome that you spent a good chunk of time standing in front of your closet to pick an outfit for tonight, but you want to make a good first impression on Sunghoon without the ugly sweater or pajamas you wore when you invited him to Jake’s party. 

You settle with flattering jeans and a nice top with an oversized leather jacket and find yourself wondering what kind of lipstick you should put on. It feels silly to worry about these things for a person who likely wouldn’t notice that type of effort, so you settle with something that compliments your skin tone but isn’t too over the top for a casual hang out. It’s just before 5:30 when you hear your doorbell ring and your heart rate perks up at the thought of Sunghoon waiting for you. 

“Hey,” you say to Sunghoon pathetically.. Sunghoon’s wearing a light grey quarter zip sweater with a few buttons hanging loose and black trousers. You avoid gawking at him from the threshold of your doorway, but it’s hard not to. 

“Long time no see,” he jokes. “Are you ready to head to the party?” His questions bring your eyes back to his face and you smile at him awkwardly. 

“Can you hold this for a second?” You hand Sunghoon the bag with Jake’s ugly sweater. “Let me get the brownies.” You barely register that Sunghoon’s holding a bag of his own until you walk back with the dessert, successfully locking your door without dropping your keys. “What's in the bag?” 

Sunghoon looks at you sheepishly. “I went out and bought some wine because I’d feel bad taking credit for your brownies when I didn’t help make them. There’s some soju in there too because I started to overthink and wondered if any of your friends drank wine.” 

You beam at Sunghoon. How thoughtful of him. “Wine and soju are perfect. The guys will probably drink that up before you get the chance to introduce yourself and I’ll happily drink the wine. My friend Jay might, too.” 

“I’m excited to meet your friends,” Sunghoon says as the two of you walk side by side towards the elevator. He presses the button and lets you walk inside the contraption first. “It’s been a while since I got the chance to meet new people.”

“If they make you uncomfortable or anything, let me know and we can leave.” 

Sunghoon laughs. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. If you like them, then so do I.”

“That doesn’t seem very introverted of you.” He smiles at you and shrugs.

“I’m trying to get out of my shell.” Sunghoon lets you step out of the elevator and guides you to his car. “I keep to myself most of the time but I have my moments. It’s easy to get lost in a city as busy as Seoul but sometimes it gets a bit lonely.” 

He unlocks the door and puts the sweater in the backseat, along with the brownie tray on the floor for extra stability. You watch him open the passenger door for you and smile as you climb inside. Even the interior of his car is orderly and pristine. Sunghoon has you typing in Jake’s address before the two of you hit the road. 

Sunghoon drives like an expert, weaving between lanes without causing collisions or disturbance to the traffic. He uses his turn signals, which you appreciate, and doesn’t get too angry when people cut him off unnecessarily. He looks a bit too good from where you’re sitting with his jawline looking sharper than the edge of a knife with the glow from headlights shining across his face. It’s a bit unfair how beautiful Sunghoon looks from where you are and you’re having a hard time believing someone as handsome as him is talking to someone as awkward as you. 

“Are you from Seoul?” you ask him in the midst of the silence. His music hums in the background and pairs well with the smooth sound of his car’s engine. 

“No, I’m not.” Sunghoon spares you a glance. “I’m from a small suburb just outside of Busan.”

“Do you miss it?” His smile falters and you almost regret asking.

“Sometimes, but I think I’ve found my footing here. I love the city life and I like that everything is so different and loud. There are a million ways to live your life and nobody expects you to follow a certain path.” 

“Yeah, I agree with that. I’m from a small fishing town a few hours away from here where everyone comes from a long line of farmers and fisherman. It’s hard to carry that burden and expectation when fishing is the last thing you want to do with your life.” 

“People have a crazy way of making you feel indebted, don’t you think?”

You nod. “Agreed. Sometimes I feel guilty for enjoying my time in Seoul. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do, theoretically. Everyone back home used to tell me about the amount of bills I’d have to pay and how dangerous big cities are, but I’ve found a home here that I never felt back in my neighborhood. It’s like nobody knows who I am and I find comfort in that.” 

“I feel the same way. I can be whoever I want to be without people telling me it’s wrong. I don’t have to live my life by another person’s expectation and there are so many different things I could be doing with myself. How long have you been in Seoul? Have you visited your hometown at all?” 

“I’ve been here for eight years, if we count my university days, but I’ve been living here full time for four years. I went back home for a few months after graduating before getting the job I have now.” You play with your fingers as you speak, the feeling of guilt bubbling to the surface. “As for going home, well, I’ve been back but it’s hard to find the time with my job.”

“I understand that. I haven’t been home in a while either. I don’t really want to go back either.” You want to ask him why but don’t. 

“Does your younger sister still live there?” 

“She’s still back home and lives with our parents while he’s finishing up university in Busan, actually.” 

“Oh, that’s cool! It’s nice of your parents to let her stay at home while she studies.” Sunghoon smiles in a way you can’t decipher. 

“Yeah, really nice.” 

Sunghoon parks right in front of Jake’s apartment just when you’re starting to regret bringing up his family. You risk looking over at him and an apology sits on your tongue because it seems like a sore subject for him based on the short response, but Sunghoon exits the car and grabs the alcohol and the bag that contains the ugly sweater. You carry the brownies and feel a bit self conscious when you feel him walking behind you. Your shoes feel heavy around your feet and despite having been over to Jake’s apartment more times than you can count on both hands, you second guess every step you take on the way to his front door. 

“Thanks for bringing me here,” Sunghoon tells you after a beat of silence as you approach Jake's front door. You want to say something, but the door opening interferes with your thoughts. 

“Hey, you made it!” Jake ushers the two of you inside and by force of habit, you take off your shoes and out on the designated slippers you purposely left here when he first moved in. “Did you bring the sweater?” 

“The fact that you want to keep that ugly thing concerns me.” Heeseung gives you a hug and grabs the brownies from your hands as you struggle to take your coat off. “I’ll put this in the kitchen.” 

“Sunghoon has the sweater.” When you’re settled, you grab the paper bag and hand it to Jake. The warmth of his apartment feels comforting until you remember that your neighbor is a complete stranger in a new environment. You turn around to see him balancing awkwardly with a bag of alcohol behind his back. “Everyone, this is Sunghoon. Sunghoon, this is…everyone.” 

“Hey,” he says awkwardly, bringing his hand up to wave at your friends who’ve all gathered around to see the newcomer. Heeseung comes back after he’s put the dessert in the kitchen. The bottles in Sunghoon’s hands ring against one another, which makes Jake’s ears perk up. 

“Did you bring something?” 

“Wine and soju. She told me not to bring anything but I didn’t want to show up empty handed.” 

“I told him we could bring brownies together.” Jake makes a face at you and grabs the bag of alcohol from Sunghoon’s hands, pulling him further into the apartment. 

“Thank you, Sunghoon.” He turns back to you. “The thought that you could’ve deprived us of alcohol is insane, actually.” 

You purse your lips and fold your arms in front of your chest. “He could’ve brought everyone ear muffs, for all you know. What are you gonna do with them if your big ass ears can barely handle your headphones?” 

“Ignore them,” Heeseung says to Sunghoon as he approaches the two of you. “They fight like siblings. I’m Heeseung.” 

Sunghoon laughs. “I’m starting to think you guys are either really close or secretly hate each other.” 

“I hate Jake and love everybody else.” Jake bumps your hip and smiles at you, and you find that you can’t keep up that faux attitude for very long. He pulls you into a hug before properly introducing himself to Sunghoon and walks to the kitchen to open a bottle of wine and store the rest in his refrigerator. 

“Do you want a drink or some food? We have a little pot luck going on.”

“I could use a drink.”

Heeseung beckons Sunghoon towards the kitchen while Jay steps beside you, and your neighbor turns back to look at you before disappearing around the corner. “See? It’s not so scary once you take the first step.” 

“Your face was chiseled by God. You of all people don’t have to worry about rejection.”

Jay laughs at that. “Still, though. You’ve been talking about Sunghoon for so long that I was getting worried he might’ve been a figment of your imagination.” 

“I might be delusional, but I’m not crazy.”

“We all have our ways to cope.” You bump your shoulder with his. “You should know we’re all rooting for you and Sunghoon.” 

“Oh my God, it’s not like I pictured myself marrying him!” You whisper-yell loud enough for him to hear through gritted teeth and smack his bicep. “I just think he’s cute. The thought of being rejected by him scares the shit out of me.”

“He’s just a guy?” 

“A beautiful, charming guy.”

“Again, just a guy.” 

It’s his turn to make you laugh. “You always keep me grounded, Jongseong.” 

“Who else will? But anyway, you should also know that Jake decided to host this housewarming party because Heeseung told us you ran into him on your way to work.” 

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or weirded out by that.” 

“It’s Jake we’re talking about. He has his ways of showing it, but he’s a sentimental guy.” 

“I guess I should thank him if tonight goes well.”

“Don’t stress about anything too much.” Jay starts to walk towards the kitchen and beckons for you to follow him. “Let’s get you a drink.”

You spot Sunghoon first, who leans against Jake’s counter while he looks at all of the food your friends brought (Chick-Fil-A catering, because he’s been craving it and Heeseung offered to pay for half of it). There’s an impressive selection of alcohol beside the large platter of breaded chicken, and macaroni and cheese that smells like it’s just been pulled out of the oven. Sunghoon seems entertained enough with Jake fixing him a plate and opening a bottle of beer for him. You stand beside Jay and feel a bit silly worrying over whether or not your guest feels comfortable with your group of friends, but he seems to be doing okay because he isn’t searching for you. 

“How do you guys know each other?” 

“This one spilled coffee on me when we first met.” Heeseung laughs at the memory and the tips of his ears turn a deep shade of red. He’s talkative when he has enough alcohol in his system and the nostalgia makes you curl into yourself as Jay hands you a bottle of beer. Everyone looks at you when Heeseung points in your direction. 

“She’s really fucking clumsy.”

“Thanks for the commentary, Jake,” you say sarcastically. 

“We work together at a marketing agency and started around the same time,” Heeseung explains further. “She just moved to the city and we clicked on our first day.” 

“I met the other two through Heeseung, actually.” Sunghoon looks between Jay and Jake when you gesture, who each seem like they’ve also started drinking before you arrived. 

“We’re friends from college and we all decided to stay around the area after graduating.” Jay pours himself a glass of wine and you can see Sunghoon beginning to perk up when he notices. You find that kind of cute. 

“Heeseung’s the reason we’re all friends.” Jake pats his friend on the back. “It’s funny though because we actually all met her at his housewarming all those years ago too.” 

“Huh,” says Sunghoon. “What a coincidence. Sounds like you guys have a thing for housewarming parties.” 

“I’ll take up any excuse to host. It’s how we get her to come out of her shell.” Your cheeks warm up but you aren’t sure if it’s because of the alcohol or because everyone’s looking at you again. 

“She’s a bit of an introvert, but she’s really fun when you get to know her. Sorta like a diamond in the rough type of thing.” 

“Okay, wow! We don’t have to talk about me.” 

Jake points at a grocery store receipt on his refrigerator and grins. “This is the first time she bought groceries for me when I moved in a few months ago. She’s a bit sentimental and put this on when she came over for the first time. It’s nice, though.” 

“Oh my god,” you mutter. Sunghoon smiles at you and those fairytale-like butterflies in the pit of your stomach feel like they’re flying in a metal cage. 

“I like that you’re sentimental. You’re a little like me. I decided to come to this party because somebody else gave me the choice to be social.” 

“Yeah.” You’re a bit breathless and you’re sure Jay’s grinning beside you. “I get a bit intimidated when I do something different or meet new people.”

“Who doesn’t?” You suppose he’s right. 

“She’s incredible with gifts, too. Last year, she got me a signed guitar by my favorite musician because they worked on a campaign together.” Jay takes out his phone to show Sunghoon a photo of the autographed instrument. 

“So thoughtful,” Sunghoon says absentmindedly. It throws your heart in a loop.

“There is so much more to talk about beyond me,” you say, embarrassed that your friends are doting on you in front of Sunghoon. The attention is a bit too much and you grab another beer on your way out of the kitchen, choosing not to look back at the four boys who all laugh at your exit. 

The entire night goes smoother than you could’ve ever hoped for. Your friends leave the weird, overbearing protectiveness in the kitchen when you walk out of it and talk to Sunghoon like he’s their friend too. It still makes you a bit shy when they actively support you in this crush because you aren’t used to this level of care and trust in people. Affection makes you a bit uncomfortable and you wish it didn’t.

Sunghoon seems like he’s enjoying himself as well. You can tell he’s a little buzzed but stopped drinking halfway through the night to sober up by the time he has to drive. Even in your inebriated state, you appreciate his sense of responsibility. He’s rolled the sleeves of his quarter zip up and you try your best not to drool over his toned arms every time he moves his hands when he talks. Sunghoon looks so effortlessly cool when with your friends and it’s almost as if he’s known the three of them for as long as you’ve known them to the point where you’re questioning if he’s truly an introvert or not. 

It’s this level of comfort that keeps you in Seoul. Surrounding yourself with people who support you unconditionally feels like a reward after spending your childhood wishing for the friends you have now. It feels like everybody has a place in your life because you’ve done the work to keep people who love you for who you are rather than somebody they assume you to be. It’s nice to let go of the high walls you’ve built around yourself for protection. 

Eventually, half of the alcohol is gone and so has all of the food. Jake’s had a bit of influence over your drunken state because as he puts it, he’s the host and needs to make sure everybody is having a good time. You’re not one to blame him though, since you’ve been accepting every shot and drink he’s put in your hand. Jay’s the one who prevents Jake from giving you anything more when he sees the way you’re swaying in your spot on the floor where all of you have formed a circle. 

Jake returns from the kitchen after throwing away empty bottles. “Damn, so all of us are staying here for the holidays?”

“I haven’t decided if I’m staying or not, if that counts for anything. My parents are going to be in London but there’s a month and a half until Christmas, so I have some time to decide.” 

“Sunghoon, you’ve got to be crazy rich if you can afford to fly to Europe at the last minute.” You’re about to scold your friend but Sunghoon just laughs. 

“I suppose I’m a bit privileged like that. I’ve spent every holiday season back home and wanted to try something different this year.”

“What does Christmas in your hometown look like?” 

“Really cold. Almost as cold as Seoul when the snow begins to fall. We take Christmas seriously since we’re primarily known as a holiday destination for people who like that kind of stuff. A lot of our publicity revolves around the holidays, so my city is a little bit like a winter wonderland. At least, that’s what they want you to believe.” 

“Sounds like the perfect place for you,” Heeseung says as he nods over at you. 

“Why’s that?” 

“She loves Christmas. She can’t get enough of it and does everything holiday-related as soon as summer ends.” 

“Do you like Christmas that much?” Sunghoon asks you with apprehension in his tone.

“You don’t?” 

Sunghoon shrugs at your small outburst. “Our whole thing is about Christmas and holiday festivities. It gets a little old when you’re surrounded by it all the time” 

“Sounds like a dream.” He smiles at you. 

“I’m sure you’d like it there. My parents love the holidays and go all out every year. It’s a bit corny but they’re wholesome people and I know they love their country as much as anyone else.”

“She always knows what’s going on around town if it has anything to do with the holidays,” Jake tells him. 

“Oh, really?”

“Did you know there’s gonna be a Christmas market right next to Yonsei? They’re gonna be selling a bunch of baked goods and decorative stuff. I heard their food trucks are really good.” 

Jay chimes in. “We should go next weekend.” Jake elbows his ribcage. “Actually, you two should go together.” 

“Us?” Sunghoon points between him and yourself. 

“Yeah, why not?” Jake shrugs like it’s the most obvious answer. “She’s a huge fan of the holidays and you’ve never experienced it here. Why not see what Christmas in Seoul looks like?” 

“I’m not big on those kinds of things.” Your heart plummets and you don’t really know why. You put a smile on your face anyway. 

“You don’t have to do anything, Sunghoon. I don’t mind doing these things alone and you don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to.” 

There is an indescribable look on Sunghoon’s face when you finish speaking and the living room is completely silent. He peeks at you through his long eyelashes and it feels as if he’s inspecting you from where he sits. Neither of your friends say anything either and you’re one second from awkwardly laughing when you realize nobody’s saying anything until Sunghoon speaks up again. 

“I’ll go with you.” 

“You really don’t have to.” 

He cocks his head to the side. “It sounds like you’re really excited about it. I might be tired of Christmas but maybe you can change my mind.” 

His words fly right over your head and Heeseung can see it in the way you beam at the mention of Sunghoon’s proposal. Even he hears the absurdity of it all when he looks at Sunghoon, who doesn’t spare anybody else a glance. You try to contain your excitement and keep smiling to a minimum, but you feel your cheeks harden anyway and Sunghoon smiles right back at you. 

“We could go tomorrow!” 

“You’ve had quite a bit to drink,” Heeseung reminds you. “Maybe next weekend?” 

“You, of all people, should know that I don’t get hangovers. I'm too excited just thinking about it.”

“We can go tomorrow if you’re not too tired. I can check in with you when I wake up. How does 10 AM sound?” 

You sigh, content. “Perfect.” 

When the conversation starts to die down naturally, everybody seems to be under the impression that it’s time to go. You say goodbye to your friends and thank Jake for hosting the party, choosing not to tell him what Jay had revealed to you earlier. Sunghoon seems like he had a great time because as you’re putting your shoes on, you see him exchanging numbers with everybody else. Sunghoon carries the empty tray that was once filled with dessert and tells Jake to keep the rest of the alcohol, no doubt solidifying him as someone he’d want to keep around. The drive back to your apartment feels too long for your liking and your body feels heavy when the two of you arrive at your respective doors. 

“Thanks for driving. I promise I don’t usually get this drunk.” You hiccup. “Well, okay, that’s a lie. I only get this drunk when I’m with this specific group of friends.” 

“It’s fine. It’s nice to let go every once in a while.” 

You look up at him. “Did you have fun?” 

“I did,” he says with a single, firm nod. “Your friends are really funny. I was kind of worried about it on the way here because I tend to be really quiet when I meet new people for the first time, but it felt like we knew each other already.” 

“They knew about you.”

“Did they?” 

“Mhm.” You hiccup again. “I told them about my new neighbor a while ago and thought you looked cool, but I’m a little awkward, you know? I don’t really know how to talk to people without someone else acting as a buffer.” 

“Could've fooled me. You did just fine.” 

“That’s because you saw me in Jake’s ugly fucking sweater.” You make a face at the memory, cheeks heating up at the look on Sunghoon’s face when his eyes roamed from the fabric to your face. “You called me ugly.” 

Sunghoon laughs. “I called the sweater ugly. Not you.” 

“You don’t think I’m ugly?” Your question catches Sunghoon off guard, but you’re already fishing for your apartment keys when he looks at you. 

“No, I don’t.” You don’t seem to be paying attention to him as you successfully jam your keys into the lock on the second try. He sees a peek inside when you open the door and watches you stumble inside before latching onto the doorknob to balance yourself. 

“Thanks for coming with me, Sunghoon. I’m really glad you had fun. I think my friends like you a lot.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. They’re a little protective over me and like to make sure any guy I hang out with is cool. You know how it is.” Sunghoon holds the door open for you while you take your shoes off and throw your purse somewhere on your couch before turning around to look at him. 

“I mean it, though. Thanks for coming and dealing with me and my friends. We’re a little bit of a handful.” 

He smiles and shakes his head. “Not in the way you think. It’s nice that you have people in your life that you can be yourself around and it seems like they love you just as much as you love them.” 

“I really love my friends. But don’t tell them I said that.” Sunghoon pretends to zip his mouth shut. 

“Your secret's safe with me.” You look at him with an unreadable expression, but it gets replaced with a tired smile. 

“Sleep well, okay? My friends are your friends.” 

“You’re so generous,” he says with a laugh. You take a step forward but retract when the sober part of your brain reminds you that the two of you aren’t likely close enough to give each other a hug goodbye. 

“...Do you still want to come to the Christmas market with me tomorrow?” 

“I’ll give you one chance to convince me that the holidays are fun, but only if you wake up without a hangover.” He laughs when you give him a mock salute.

“I don’t get hangovers, remember?” You tap the side of your head with your pointer finger. Sunghoon smiles down at you before pulling his phone from the back of his pocket. 

“I should probably get your number too.” 

“Oh.” He hands it to you and your fingers suddenly feel numb. You manage to type your number and try to think of something cute and quirky to put as your contact, ultimately settling with your name followed by the ‘:)’ symbol. It’s casual but you think it makes you stand out from generic contact names, as Sunghoon seems like the kind of guy who keeps everything straight to business. 

“I’ll text you so you have my number too.” You pull out your phone when you see him typing. 

Unknown: It’s Sunghoon! :) 

You feel like a creep trying to bite back a smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Don’t push yourself if you wake up too tired but promise me you’ll try to get some sleep tonight.” 

“I promise. Goodnight, Sunghoon.”

***

You aren’t sure whether you’re pleased or not when you wake up at eight o’clock on the dot with no chance of falling back asleep in sight. You turn to see that your phone is fully charged and force yourself to  leave your warm, comfortable bed to prepare yourself for the day. You don’t respond to the text Sunghoon sent last night and don’t know if he’s going to keep up his end of the bargain and go with you to the Christmas market, but you decide to get ready in the event that he was serious about it. 

Your friends text you too, both in the group chat and separately. Heeseung, as always, is telling you not to overthink anything and enjoy spending time with your neighbor crush. He tries to be as encouraging as he can but can’t help slipping in a few jokes here and there about how fast you’re growing up (even though you’re only a few months younger than he is). Jay sends you words of encouragement too, but he keeps it straight to the point and tells you to buy him something that you think he’d like if you stumble across anything. Jake, on the other hand, makes far too many inappropriate jokes that you have no choice but to laugh. You feel something akin to a high school crush getting ready for a first date even though this isn’t technically a date. 

You’ve managed to pull yourself together and see that the time is half past nine when you check the clock. Sunghoon hasn’t texted you at all today so you take the liberty to let him know you’re awake and hope you don’t come off as pushy or overly eager. But he responds in kind and tells you he’s getting ready and will be knocking on your door soon. 

True to his word, Sunghoon stands at your doorstep when it’s 10 AM.

“You look so cozy,” he says. 

Never mind that you’re swearing something you deemed cute and casual that pairs well with the low temperature outside along with the snowfall from last night. Sunghoon steps out looking like a model himself with his tailored trousers, a graphic shirt, and a denim jean jacket. He looks like the epitome of every girl’s fantasy of the boy next door once again.

“You look really good.” You say it before you can catch yourself and he laughs. 

“You think so?” Your eyes snap up at him as you frantically close your door behind you and lock it.  

“Will you be warm enough in that?” 

“I’ll be fine, but I appreciate your concern.” You frown when he starts to lead you towards the elevator. 

“If you say so.” You see a small silver camera peeking out of his pockets. “What’s that?” 

He pulls it out for you to see. “It’s a Z155 film camera. I got it before moving to Seoul and wanted to learn how to photograph with this type of camera. Cool, right?” 

Your worries dissipate the more you walk through your neighborhood and onto the outdoor market you’ve had bookmarked for weeks. Perhaps it’s the warm coffee amidst the chilly winter that excited you, or the handmade decorations that seem far too inexpensive for what they’re worth, but your face lights up when you walk through the aisles. There are too many vendors for you to look at and the overwhelming feeling perks up in your chest when you see different people trying to attract customers. But you’d argue that’s one of your favorite parts; hearing people talk about why they love the holidays so much brings you a sense of joy and fulfillment you don’t feel elsewhere. Sunghoon is a good sport about it too despite being a bit apprehensive at first. He graciously paid for your coffee and breakfast consisting of a warm butter croissant. It melts on your tongue and you regret not buying a second one.

People always ask you why you love the holidays so much and you tell them it’s because there’s no greater joy than being surrounded by your loved ones into the new year. You’ve always been a fan of winter despite the sun setting earlier than it does in the summer. Doing winter-related things in the appropriate season makes you happy, especially if you manage to drag one of your friends along for the ride. You draw the line at caroling, though. That’s taking it a bit too far. 

But the real reason is that Christmastime and the beginning of snowfall always marks a vicious cycle of wishing you could be anywhere but the present. Your childhood was riddled with uncertainties and walking on eggshells around your family and friends, and your household often felt like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. You were too afraid of making a mistake and chose to retreat within yourself, operating under the assumption that pleasing everybody else was how to protect yourself and your feelings. 

Prior to moving to Seoul, the start of the cold season was a reminder that your life wasn’t as picture perfect as you liked to imagine it was. No amount of television shows or fictitious scenarios running through your head before falling asleep would ever negate the neglect and absent feeling of joy in your heart as autumn turned into winter. You used to bide your time by hoping the months would roll past you until the springtime arrived. It always felt humiliating to hear your friends tell you about their vacations and all of the presents they received that year when the most your family could do was keep the lights on. That emptiness in the depths of your heart felt like it was void of feeling anything at all, and the holidays served as a reminder that things wouldn’t get better. 

It’s no surprise when Sunghoon turns to you as you both walk through the aisles of jewelry and artwork vendors when he asks you why you love Christmas so much. Somehow, you can’t bring yourself to give the rehearsed spiel you reserve for people who don’t know you very well, and instead give him a half-truth.  

“This time of year is hard for some people and I used to feel like the world would stop spinning if I didn’t try to be at least a little happy when I moved to Seoul a few years ago. I was all alone for the first time in my entire life and barely knew anybody, and had to come up with my own way of cheering myself up since I spent it alone. I did a bunch of things by myself, like going to holiday markets or ice skating. I didn’t mind the solitude that much.” 

“Were you friends with Heeseung and the guys at that time?” 

“Barely. Heeseung and I were only coworkers back then but we sat across from each other every day to be friendly. But I didn’t know him as well as I do now and had a few roommates who went back home for a couple of weeks. It was pretty lonely and I hated feeling like I was stuck when I was the one who wanted to move to the big city.” 

“I think I understand. Christmas is a reminder of overcoming hardship for your first time living by yourself.” 

You nod, a bit relieved that he understands you a little bit. “Kind of, yeah. I didn’t grow up in the happiest household and wanted to do something good for myself since I left my hometown. It feels like a shame if I don’t at least try.” 

“I think that’s the most profound thing anybody has ever said to me.” 

“I sound like one of those generic books with corny quotes.” 

“Can’t be corny if it’s true.” 

You smile at him. “I’ve become a lot better about being positive and optimistic since getting to know the guys, too. Hanging out with them during my second year in Seoul made me realize I wasn’t as alone as I thought I was, and even when they all went home to visit their families, I didn’t feel like the world was collapsing around me when I was alone for a few days. It felt nice to trust people and realize that people cared about me the way I wanted them to.”

“They sound like really great friends.”

“They are. I don’t know what I’d do without them, if I’m being totally honest. I think my mom was worried about me for the first year of me living here because I barely talked about meeting anybody. She used to complain that I always talked about work and that I stayed in too much on the weekends. I used to think she was just berating me but I get it now.”

“Sounds like she wanted you to get out and have fun.” 

“Yeah. I guess my mom was trying to tell me to get a life without directly telling me. She loves it when I send her pictures of myself outside of my apartment and I fill her in on things I’ve been up to that don't have to do with my career. She’s proud of me in that sense but always reminds me that there’s more to life than my job.”

“You have a great mom, from what I can tell. She has your best interest at heart and I think it’s sweet of her to care about you so much. What about your dad? Do you talk to him at all?” 

You look to the ground. “No. He passed away four years ago.” 

“Oh.” Sunghoon nods silently and tucks his hands behind his back. “I’m sorry.” 

“There’s no need to be. It happened a long time ago.” 

Sunghoon nods from your peripheral vision. “Do you see your mom often? Does she visit you in Seoul?” 

You shake your head. “She works at a fish dock and can’t take a lot of time off.” 

“I see. Do you visit her, then?” 

You’re acutely aware of Sunghoon walking beside you but his footsteps fall deaf to your ears when you think about your mother and picture her throwing nets of fish into baskets to sell to merchants in the same afternoon. She wakes up hours before the sun rises to greet fishermen by the docks as soon as daylight breaks and leaves when the space is clean and the fish is sold. You picture her in rubber overalls and boots, her hair tied back in a tight ponytail with a mask covering the lower half of her face to avoid the scent of the fish even though she tells you she’s used to it by now. 

It was hard to deal with her waning hours in your childhood and you often yearned for her presence when you awoke to see no trace of her in your household. You had a knack for differentiating the difference in gait between her and your father, and hearing the heavier steps of his footsteps always made you disappointed. Feeling his presence outside of your bedroom door felt like it was a prison sentence.

In a town that seldom encourages any lifestyle aside from fishing and farming, you always find a bit of solace in creative writing clubs and the school musicals as a way to excuse yourself from the small town life. You’d picture yourself underneath a single spotlight, standing center stage where everybody in the audience regarded you as someone who’d make it far beyond the borders of the isolated town. You imagine them roaring in applause when you took your final bow with your mother sitting in the front row with a bouquet of flowers in her hands.

But life and finances were immediate priorities to keep the roof over your heads and the table full of food. The electricity bill was renewed solely by your mother’s efforts to keep the three of you afloat whereas your father could barely keep a job for longer than a few months before the inevitable discussion of his unemployment. You recall hearing hushed conversations that always escalated to loud arguments just outside of your bedroom door and shoved headphones into your ears to drown out the sound of an unhappy marriage. 

His absence was deafening and there were moments where you preferred a chaotic household over a quiet one. In the mere weeks that followed his death, life seemed to move on for your mother but not for you. She still woke up before dawn and never complained about the cold weather during the winter months or the heavy rainfalls in the summer. Whereas she endured life as if he hadn’t passed, you carried the weight of emotional neglect and dissonance of your relationship with him. 

The funeral was a month later and his cremated remains were spread along the larger lake nearby because he always said he would never choose to move away from water. The boat ride to the deepest part of the lake was uncomfortable and frustrating as your mother and two of his closest friends lamented over his passing, barely touching on the hardship he put your family through in his years being alive. It seemed like everyone was able to forgive him and move on as if every single person in his family went unscathed. Listening to them recite their happiest memories with him felt like a knife twisting in your heart until it stopped beating. 

Moving away was bittersweet, too. The neighborhood you grew up in never felt like a home to you but it would always be nostalgic. It was a plot of land with four walls and a roof, and yet the memories you’ve made haunt every corner of your street like a ghost that refuses to cross into the light. The grey walls look more dreary and dull than it had before and the large tree that grew on the lawn was cut down after years of neglect. Your old house looked brand new and unrecognizable. Everything had changed too quickly for your liking. Even when you packed your last box in the moving van, the emptiness of your bedroom felt like you were saying goodbye to a part of your life you’d never yearn for again. You’ve never looked back since. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up.” Sunghoon brings you out of your temporary stupor. 

“It’s alright. I didn’t mean to get lost in my thoughts.” 

He gently knocks his shoulder into yours. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“I don’t think talking about even more depressing things is gonna put you in the holiday spirit.” 

“Keeping them to yourself just to make other people comfortable won’t put you in the holiday spirit either.” You know he’s right and begin to gnaw at your inner cheek. 

“I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“The nice thing about having friends is that you can say whatever you want and they won't judge you.” Sunghoon smiles at you like he means it. His eyes twinkle underneath the sun and, even if for a moment, you feel like he’s right. 

“My mom and I are close, even if we don’t talk every single day. She works at a fishing dock and that takes up most of her time, and I work at one of the busiest marketing agencies in Korea, which eats up my week. We find the time to talk to each other and I tell her almost everything. I don’t think there’s a secret of mine she doesn’t know. 

“But even so, I love her too much to ever tell her how I’m barely handling everything. It's like I’ve been running into a brick wall every time I try to walk away from grieving. It’s always been the two of us even when he was alive. She raised me the best she could because he was always physically there, but never emotionally present for either of us. His passing left so many questions unanswered and unresolved feelings but it seems like she’s moved on from it.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“It was a long time ago. My dad and I were never that close. There were a few good memories that I think about from time to time, but sometimes they’re ruined by all of the bad things I think about when I think about him. It’s an endless cycle of self sabotaging and I can’t stop myself from doing it. My mom wants me to visit her for a weekend during the holidays and she keeps asking me when I want to come home, but I keep pushing it off because I can’t bring myself to go back to a place that made me unhappy.” 

Sunghoon remains quiet beside you. When you take a peek at him, he looks as if he’s deep in thought as he looks ahead at the environment and watches the children play on the nearby playground. His eyebrows are furrowed only slightly and his mouth forms a downward pout, and you’re left wondering what he's thinking about. 

Finally, he speaks. “Do you feel guilty for putting it off?” 

“Yeah, I do.” 

“It’s almost like you know it's the right thing to do but you can’t bring yourself to do it. People teach you that family is everything, but when they force you to act and feel a certain way, it’s like you’re suffocating.”

“It’s like you took the words right out of my mouth. I keep telling her I’d think about it but I always feel guilty because it’s just an excuse to put off making a decision. I’d feel guilty if I don’t go, but I can’t bring myself to make that trip, even if she’s just a few hours away.” 

“My parents are a bit similar. They’ve given me more than I could ever ask for, and yet I still feel selfish for wanting to explore myself without them right behind me.” 

“I feel like an awful daughter every time I don’t agree to go home. I know she can tell I feel hesitant about it. I don't want to make her worry and I wish this feeling would go away. I can’t face my fears yet.” 

“Pardon if this is a difficult question for you, but…Is your father the main reason why you don’t want to go back?” 

“Yes.” You answer him meekly, as if telling the truth above a whisper will send you straight to purgatory. “I can’t walk in my neighborhood without hearing the sound of his voice when he yelled at me. Being in my house makes me think of all the times he’d threaten to throw me onto the streets for something as stupid as forgetting to wash the dishes. That place is a carousel of bad memories that I never want to think about ever again.”

“I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s normal for me now but it doesn’t make me feel any better if I try to frame it as ordinary. It doesn’t hurt me on most days. I push him out of my mind and focus on the present but the holidays are when I start to think about him and my childhood the most. I’ve never had a peaceful winter. There was always something going on and either Christmas or New Year’s was always ruined.”

“Is that why you love the holidays so much? To override your bad memories and create new ones?” 

“Yes. I never want to feel the way that I did before he passed away and having my friends here with me makes me forget about how sad I get when October rolls around. The weather gets colder but I try to do everything I can to think about how much I have to look forward to now that I’ve got so much time to do whatever I want. I learned that I can’t rely on somebody else to make me feel like I have something to live for.” 

“That’s admirable of you and I hope you know that.” 

“I don’t know if I’d put it that way.”

Sunghoon shakes his head. “It is, though. It sounds like you had a rough childhood and your mom was spread thin with her job that it left you with someone who couldn’t take care of you. I can hear it in the way you talk. You’ve got this determination inside of you whether you realize it or not.”

“Sometimes I feel like it’s all for nothing. I wake up and live my life but it doesn't feel like I’m getting better.”

“You have your whole life ahead of you to understand the grieving process and work through that. You’ll never know if you don’t stick around to find out, will you?” 

“No, I suppose not.” 

“My parents put a lot of pressure on me to perform well in everything. Bad grades weren’t acceptable and I juggled a few different sports to fill my free time. It always felt like they set me on a path that I needed to follow instead of allowing me to figure out myself on my own. I know they meant well and I know they loved me, but sometimes I wonder if they’d love me knowing that I want something different than their future for me. 

“How do you handle it?” 

“I don’t.” Sunghoon shrugs nonchalantly and the hard snow underneath his foot crunches loudly as you near the end of the aisleway. “I keep putting it off like you do. I’m here in Seoul because they agreed to let me explore the city for a while until it’s time for me to return and discuss the future they want for me.” 

“What do they expect you to do?”

Sunghoon purses his lips. “They want me to take over the family business. My father is adamant that I come home and take it seriously because he’s planning on retiring soon and trusts me to be the person who handles everything. They run a local grocery market chain and love that lifestyle but it’s not for me. I want to be here in Seoul and figure out what my life is supposed to look like without them holding onto the dream that I’ll run the company. They’ve made good money off of it and found success as they’re starting to expand, but I don't want to have any part in it.

“I majored in business and operations when I was in university but hated every second of it. I always felt like I was grinding myself to the bones but I did it to make them happy. I never felt like I got the chance to do anything I wanted to do until they agreed to let me move here.” 

“You don’t seem like the kind of guy who’d run a grocery store chain.”

Sunghoon beams at that. “I don’t think so either. I like to think of myself as pretty creative but I don’t know what to do with that. I didn’t take any photography classes in college and I feel like my time is running up.” 

“The beauty of time is that there’s so much of it. You can do anything you want, whenever you want.” 

“Thanks. I’ve been taking a few photography classes here and there.” He pulls out the camera from his pocket and lets you look at it. “Lately, this is how I’ve been getting my creative fix. It feels good to do anything other than learning about how grocery stores operate. I couldn’t care less about that and I feel like myself when I’m behind the camera.” 

“I like that you’re so passionate about photography, Sunghoon. I can hear how much you love it by how you’re talking about it. It’s nice to hear people talk about their hobbies.” 

“He tries to hide a smile but fails, and instead turns the camera on and holds it above his eye. “Can I take a picture of you?” 

“Me?” 

He pulls it away and grins. “Yes, you. Who else would I be talking to?” You stand beside a large collection of snowglobes and pick one up as Sunghoon points the camera at you again. 

“You could’ve been talking to this snowglobe for all I know.” 

“Too bad. I want to take a photo of you. Smile for me.” 

Reluctantly, you do and see the flash go off before putting the snowglobe down and apologizing to the vendor, who doesn’t seem to be displeased with what transpired in front of her. Sunghoon thanks her too with a short bow before turning his camera off and tucking it back inside of his pocket. 

“The fun of film photography is seeing the pictures when they develop. As much as I love learning about lighting and composition, I like it when I don’t think too hard about the photos I take and seeing which ones come out good and which ones don't. It’s always a gamble but it's a safe bet.”

“You’re lucky. I don’t have an artistic bone in my body.” 

He cocks his head. “Maybe not in the way you think you do. Your friends were talking my ear off about how cool you are when it comes to your work. Heeseung told me you’re considering applying for a promotion because of your recent campaigns.” 

You blush and look away from him. “It’s nothing. I don’t think that’s really creative.” 

“You’re amazing, even if you don’t realize it. I think it’s cool that you work so closely with clients and help their vision come to life.” This feels like too kind of a thing for Sunghoon to say after having known you for such a short amount of time, but you can’t deny and say you don’t feel your heart fluttering with every compliment he gives you. 

Instead of responding by stuttering over your words, you drag Sunghoon through the remainder of the market and enjoy multiple warm cups of hot cocoa and try all of the desserts they have to offer. You end up buying a few things for your friends to add to their holiday gifts, even though they’ve been sitting in your bedroom for the past few weeks. Sunghoon reluctantly allows you to cover the lunch bill when you bring up how he bought every beverage and dessert the two of you have tried. He sees you signing the back of the receipt after writing today’s date.

“Why do you do that?” 

You hold the receipt up. “This?” 

“Yeah. Why do you sign it?” 

“I like keeping mementos of things. My fridge is covered in different letters, receipts, and artwork from friends and family. I have an entire box of receipts from important moments that I want to remember. I usually have the people I’m with sign them too and go through the receipts when I feel nostalgic.” 

“Do you think this moment is worth being nostalgic over?” You blush. 

“Yeah, I do.” 

Sunghoon blushes too. “I think that’s really cute, actually.” You slide the pen over to him. 

“Do you want to sign it?” His signature looks like that of a movie star. Even his penmanship is perfect. “There. Now you can look at this receipt when you miss me.” 

“Or I could just knock on your door until you let me in.”

“What says I’ll let you in?” 

“Because I’m the best neighbor you will ever have and even though you say you don’t like Christmas, you have to admit that you’re having fun.” 

Sunghoon smiles at that. “Yeah, you could definitely say that. I might have to come over to your apartment to see this receipt box of yours.” Sunghoon looks at you with a smile that makes you weak in the knees. It feels like you’re the subject of a reality TV show and you’re waiting for the camera crew to come out of their hiding spots and tell you this is all for show, but that never happens. 

“You know where I live,” you say to him coyly, backing away slowly as you throw your trash away. “Knock on my door any time.” 

Sunghoon laughs and you think you’d rather die than never hear it again.

***

You don’t get the chance to see Sunghoon during the week because of your work schedule but find yourself texting him whenever you get the chance. Your evenings are for catching up on TV shows that are halfway completed and messaging him even though he lives across the hallway. He hasn’t made an effort to come over to your apartment and neither have you, but you find yourself making plans with him to go ice skating with him during the following weekend and choose to look forward to that instead of letting your insecurities get the better of you. 

Heeseung asks you for updates and you can’t help but divulge into the whole truth, including every small thing Sunghoon did or said that made you overthink when he dropped you off at your apartment. He’s attentive and teases you every time you get a bit too shy to tell him how much fun you had with Sunghoon but tells you he’s proud that you’re putting yourself out there and making a new friend. Heeseung tells you that he and your other friends have been texting Sunghoon as well and discovered that they share a lot of common interests, and that they’ve got loose plans to see each other for drinks in the future. It warms your heart to know your friends like Sunghoon enough to include him in things, which makes you feel a little crazy considering he isn’t your boyfriend and you’ve officially known him for about three weeks. 

You find yourself standing on ice skates when the weekend approaches and you’re surprised to see that the outdoor rink is empty for a Saturday afternoon. You’re better than the average skater thanks to a childhood interest in figure skating and buying a ticket to the outdoor rink at least once every winter season. Sunghoon tells you he picked it up as a hobby when he was younger but his agility when he glides on the ice tells you he’s better than he claims. 

It’s chilly and your gloves protect your hands from the biting chill. Sunghoon’s alabaster skin looks like it’s glowing underneath the bright sun and his sunglasses make him look like the epitome of cool if you were to look it up in the dictionary. He keeps himself skating fairly close to you but you aren’t sure if that’s because he wants to be in your personal bubble or not. Either way, you sweat underneath your clothes and try to focus on balancing yourself on top of the hard ice. 

Sunghoon paid for your tickets and skate rentals too. He surprised you by signing his name and today’s date on the receipt for your safekeeping, telling you to keep it in your purse so it doesn’t get lost. He said it like it’s a matter-of-fact and not something only you do because you love being nostalgic about happy memories. Your hands shake as you lace up your skates and Sunghoon patiently waits for you to finish putting on the other shoe before taking up space on the ice. That feels warm.  

“I can’t help but like Christmas a little bit more when I’m on the ice.” Sunghoon takes his hands out of his pockets and runs his hand through his hair, and it makes you want to swoon. 

“Why’s that?” 

“Something about it feels like it should be done only in the wintertime. The Christmas music is helping me feel a little more festive anyway.” 

“There used to be a skating rink by my old middle school before it shut down a few years ago. I’d go with my friends as soon as December hit and learn how to skate because the owner saw me beg my parents to let me take lessons, but it was too expensive. She gave them a discount for my first few lessons.” 

“Did you stop skating?” 

“Yeah. They were able to pay for lessons as I advanced because of a bonus my mom received at work and she chose to spend it on me. My dad never cared that much but attended a few of my lessons here and there when my mom couldn’t drive me.”

“Did you compete?” 

“No, it was mostly for fun. I stopped because the financial burden was getting too much. Figure skating is the only thing I regret quitting.” 

“I stopped skating because it got in the way of my studies.” Sunghoon purses his lips. “I wasn’t aiming to go pro, or anything. It was a fun hobby I liked to do after school but my parents said it took up too much of my time because my grades weren’t straight A’s.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shrugs. “It’s not like I can’t skate anymore but sometimes it felt like I was being primed to take over their company and I could feel that when I was in high school. Ice skating was my way of trying to tell them that wasn’t the life I wanted, but I don’t think they got the message. I ended up quitting halfway into my sophomore year.”

“Do you miss being on the ice? 

“Sometimes. I competed at local competitions and thought about what my life would’ve looked like if I committed to a professional career, but I decided that wasn’t for me. I wanted to do something creative. Anything different than running a grocery chain.”

You bump Sunghoon’s hip. “Sounds like you’ve found your niche in photography.” 

“Ah, I hope so. I should show you some of the photos I have that aren’t on my wall.”

“Do you have a website or an Instagram for your pictures?” 

“No, but I probably should.” 

“You definitely should. I’ll even be your first follower and tell everyone to follow you.” 

Sunghoon smiles down at you. “How sweet of you.” 

“What happens next? You mentioned that your parents let you come to Seoul for a little while, but what happens after that?” 

His shoulders sulk. “Honestly? I don’t know. I moved into this apartment this past January and they said they’d give me a year to do whatever I want before I take over the business. I’m not so sure that I want to go back.” 

“Does that mean you have to move?” Sunghoon avoids looking at you. 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh.” The silence permeated for a moment. 

“I don’t want to leave, though.” Sunghoon clears his throat and shoves his hands back in his pockets. “I love Seoul and the freedom to do whatever I want. I work at a photography studio part time to pay for myself. I’m lucky that they agreed to pay my rent but that luck’s running out soon because they want me to come back. 

“It’s funny, though. My younger sister’s the one who wants to run this company because she’s studying business operations and loves it. She thrives in this environment and has always been interested in networking with people my parents know. I couldn’t care less about any of that. She has fun at his client parties but all I want to do is hide in a corner.”

“Why won’t they let her take over the business, then?” 

“My parents want to retire soon. They’ve been at it for so long and people are pressuring them to sell the business because everybody who knows them, knows they want out. My sister’s in her last year of university and isn’t ready to take over just yet. They say she needs more experience even though she’s interning with his division until she graduates.”

“So, what? If you take over, what’s she gonna do?” 

“Ideally, she’d be a co-owner the minute she feels ready to do it. But I think the plan for her is to become an assistant and then find another CEO role in another company. My parents don’t really understand that she and I want to switch places because they’re so focused on their retirement. We don’t know how to bargain with them and it’s become a sore point in our relationship.” 

“I’m really sorry, Sunghoon.” 

“My sister and I talk about this every time we see each other and I can tell she’s upset that they aren’t willing to wait out for her. She knows I don’t want this either, but sometimes it feels like she’s barely there whenever I’m with her.”

“It’s like knowing what you want is right in front of you but out of reach.” Sunghoon agrees in a noncommittal hum and you see him look in front of you at the other skaters. 

“I know how much she wants my position and I’d do anything to give it to her. I just need to convince my parents to wait a few years. I don’t mind helping out from time to time like I do now. But I don’t want to become CEO and work in that industry. I want to be a photographer and have my portraits hanging in museums and in people’s living rooms. Is that too much to ask for?” 

“No, it’s not. You’re so passionate when you talk about photography and it’s really endearing.” 

“You think so?” 

“Yeah, I do. It sounds like your sister is passionate about that CEO role as well. I hope the two of you are able to work things out.” 

Sunghoon sighs from beside you. “Me too. My lease is up in the new year and I’ll have to start packing if they don’t agree to wait a few more years until she’s ready. They’re afraid of bringing it outside help because they’d rather keep this in the immediate family.” The thought of knowing Sunghoon might no longer live across from you sends you into a temporary panic. You’ve just gotten to know him and it feels a bit unfair. “But I don’t want to move. I’m happy here.” 

“Are you?” 

He looks at you and smiles. “I am.” 

“I hope you’re able to stay,” you tell him, avoiding eye contact. “I think you’re fun to be around.” 

“Just fun?” Sunghoon teases, bumping his shoulder with yours. “Not charismatic and devastatingly handsome?” 

“No,” you lie, willing the cold air to cool down your warming cheeks. “I would never call you any of those things.” 

“Such a shame, Y/N. You have an incredibly hot neighbor who’s willing to do all of these Christmas things with you.” You smack his bicep. 

“You’re so annoying.” He laughs. 

“You’ll have to try harder to get rid of me.” 

***

The first time Sunghoon saw you was approximately a week after he moved into his apartment. You were wearing blue Bose headphones and looked so determined to unlock your door that Sunghoon chose to keep to himself and not bother you. He couldn’t help but notice the scowl on your face and how it made the perfect pout etch itself onto your lips. 

Ever since then, he’s seen you nearly every time he’s stepped out of his apartment and starts to wonder if this is fate telling him that he should make the first move and approach you because you’re friendly enough to nod at him when he passes you throughout the building. But he’s always been an introverted person who falters when it comes to meeting new people. Growing up around investors and adults who didn’t care about anything other than the economy didn’t do great for his confidence, especially since finance and business was the last thing he wanted to talk about. 

His sister was always more outgoing than he was. Sunghoon used to stutter when girls talked to him and couldn’t fathom the idea that anybody would be remotely interested in him enough to develop romantic feelings for him. It often felt like his personality mirrored everybody else’s for the fear of disappointing people to the point where Sunghoon had a hard time figuring out who he was when he wasn’t with his family or anybody who knew him as he grew up. 

Leaving his home to live in Seoul was something akin to a breath of fresh air. He loved his university days because it was the first and only time that Sunghoon could be himself without being afraid of what others would think of him. He experienced many ‘firsts’ while he was away from home–first college party, hangovers, and having sex for the first time. His first girlfriend made him realize he wanted more to live than to live the predestined plan that his parents set out for him. He didn’t want to marry someone into his family only for him to become a shell of a human being if he took on a job he didn’t want to do. When his girlfriend encouraged him to follow in his father’s footsteps because of how wealthy and successful he could be, Sunghoon broke it off with her and never looked back. 

Working for his parents was supposed to be a trial run. For the first three years after he graduated, Sunghoon agreed to come back and work at the company as an entry level assistant and work his way to the top. The weight of their expectations hung over his shoulders every time he stepped foot inside of the tall, intimidating building, and the anxiety he felt never really left him. Sunghoon worked himself to the bone every single day and continued dreaming of a life that was anything but his reality until his parents came to him with the proposition of slowly transitioning into an executive role. Suddenly, it felt like Sunghoon was running out of time and he proposed a year off before he would begin that process. 

Now, Sunghoon finds himself walking into your apartment with these lingering thoughts at the forefront because his parents are indirectly pressuring him to move back home. He ignores their calls and voicemails to the best of his ability. Spending time with you and your friends is a welcomed distraction because he doesn’t have to think about his future. The four of you give him space to be whoever he wants to be, and that isn’t something he’s felt in a very long time. 

“Your apartment looks like the inside of your brain,” Sunghoon tells you as he looks at your colorful furniture and the artwork decorating your walls. He lingers by the gargantuan posters of different cocktails framed neatly and the bar cart you keep by the kitchen in case you feel like having a drink or two on the weekend. “It’s so…you. 

“I worked really hard to make it that way. My Pinterest boards can tell you that much.” 

“I like that you’ve incorporated dark green. It’s pretty.” 

“Dark green is my favorite color. I’ve always wanted a space that felt like a home rather than a place I live in. I bought this green velvet couch when I got promoted the first time.” 

Sunghoon caresses the back of the couch. “Soft. I like it.”

“Do you want a drink, or anything?” 

“Are you gonna make me something festive?”

“I subjected you to ice skating and Christmas music that seemed to have four songs on shuffle the entire time. I think I’ll spare you tonight.”

“I’d like to try something new, if you’re up for it.” You light up and Sunghoon thinks he wants to make you look like that more often. He follows you into the kitchen and watches as you wash your hand and bring out every ingredient before turning to face him. 

“Have you ever heard of a hot toddy?” 

“Can’t say that I have. What is it?” 

“It’s an alcoholic drink I used to make with my friends from college when it starts to get cold. It’s whiskey, honey, and lemon dissolved in hot water.” 

“I don’t see how that’s festive,” he teases. 

“Trust the process, Park Sunghoon. First, boil water in a kettle.” 

Sunghoon watches you assemble the drink that is a bit too complicated for him but appreciated the effort you put into it. You tell him about your friends from college and how some of them have moved far away while others are people you see every once in a while. He hears about how you became a crowd pleaser during one particularly cold December night the day before finals and ended up making dozens of hot toddy’s for the people who lived on your dorm floor. You show him a picture of the makeshift tip jar your roommate made you to collect tips from students who wanted to pay you for the drink and went home with enough money to make you forget about finals. 

You tell him that your friends love this drink too, even if they downplay just how much. You hand him your phone and let him scroll through pictures you took of Heeseung and Jake the last time you made the drinks for everybody. They were hanging off of each other after begging you to add in a shot more than necessary every time you made a new cup. Jay helped you set a makeshift bed on the couch and floor for them to sleep off the alcohol and Sunghoon laughs at their less than flattering faces when you smile with two thumbs up as they pass out from the alcohol. 

Sunghoon has deduced that being here feels comfortable. It’s crazy to him that the four of you managed to weasel your way into his life as quickly as you did. He finds himself playing video games with the guys when they come home from work and they add him into their group chat within a few days of knowing him. Sunghoon’s always had a difficult time keeping friends around because he feels too awkward to socialize and feels like he never learned how to make friends around his age because of the environment he grew up in. He takes a picture of you on his camera despite your protests when he feels like words are too much.

Getting to know you has felt like the climax of a romance film. He’s spent so much time pining after you from afar, from thinking about what your favorite foods might be to what kind of music you listened to. You always looked so polished and head strong, something Sunghoon wished he could be. He’d lie to himself and say he’s attracted to you because you give off a sense of self-confidence that he’s never seen in anybody else, which is partially true, but spending time with you has only made him fall for you even harder. 

He’s only known you for a few weeks but it’s felt like he’s known you for a lifetime. Sunghoon tells you things he’s too afraid to tell other people or admit out loud. You bring out a side of him that wants to make a life for himself instead of listening to people who don’t have his best interests in mind. He loves it when you share your interest in Christmas and winter with him because it feels like he gets to know you better and it takes his mind off of his future. Plus, it helps that you look too cute when you start to get excited about things. Sunghoon can’t bear to be the reason why you would ever cease to feel like that. 

The more the two of you sip on the warm alcoholic cocktail, the more Sunghoon feels his shoulders start to relax. Whether it’s because he hasn’t eaten anything in a while or because you’re giving him butterflies, he doesn’t know. He hasn’t told anybody about you because he doesn’t know who he’d tell and he can’t believe he’s standing in your apartment making conversation with you. You laugh at his jokes and give him a tour of your place as he sips on his drink, and the warmth spreads throughout his chest. Suddenly his sweater feels too hot. 

You let him inside of your bedroom and it’s neat, with keepsakes lining your shelves and books on your walls. You’ve got a few floating bookshelves he admires and gawks at because he thinks it makes your room look that much cooler. You’ve got a few pictures of yourself, friends, and family along your desk and a makeup vanity with an impressive mirror on it. Everything in your room feels like it has a place and a reason to be there and Sunghoon can’t help but feel privileged that you’re letting him inside, like he’s supposed to be there too. 

“Is this your box of receipts?” he asks when he sees a small box without a lid on it. There are dozens of receipts haphazardly lying in there and he takes one out when you nod at him. There’s a receipt for a late night doughnut run, a printed copy of the receipt from the couch in your living room, and your first trip to the doctor. He digs to see if he can find the one from the market. “Where’s the receipt from when we went to the market?” 

You point at the board above your desk filled with pictures and other receipts too. Sunghoon looks at it and spots your handwriting and his next to a picture of you as a child. It makes his heart melt a little bit. 

“I like to keep really good memories up here.” 

Sunghoon feels like he could cry. “I’m really happy you had a fun time. I did too, but I didn’t want to come off as weird and tell you that.” 

“I don’t think it’s weird at all. If anything, I didn’t want to come off as too eager to hang out with you when we got back home.”

“Is this a good time for me to confess that I wanted to hang out with you instead of parting ways?” You look away from him to hide your smile and he can’t help but feel his heart skip a beat. 

“Now you’re just buttering me up,” you say in lieu of an answer. You stand impossibly close to him while he looks at the pictures on the board. 

“You were such a cute kid.” 

“I was cuter when I wore pigtails and when I was missing my two front teeth, that’s for sure.” 

“I think you’re doing fine just now.” 

You blush again. “Okay, you’re definitely trying to make me flustered.” 

“Is it working?” Sunghoon grins when you hide your face in his arm. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

“Anyway!” You pull yourself off of him and close the receipt box while he laughs behind you. “That’s enough of that.”

“It’s getting late and I think you put too much whiskey in this.” Sunghoon looks at you with another teasing grin but he’s starting to like catching you off guard like this. 

“I’m not listening to anything you say because you said it was just enough.” Even your faux pout is cute. “Thanks for going ice skating with me.”

“Thanks for making this for me.” He holds up his empty cup and you lead him to the kitchen. He offers to wash your dishes for you but you decline and forcibly lead him to the front door when he starts to protest. The exhaustion from today has started to tire him out and his eyes begin to droop when he steps outside. 

“Goodnight, Sunghoon. Thank you for today.” You look up at him with an expression he can’t read. 

“I had a lot of fun. I mean it. You might change my mind about Christmas after all.” 

“There’s nothing I can’t do, Hoonie.” He blushes at the nickname. “Text me when you’re home, okay?”

He snorts. “Sure thing. I’ll be sure to text you in five seconds after I lock my door.” 

“Good. Who knows? This is a big hallway. Maybe you’d drip and fall a few steps into your journey.” Sunghoon thinks you’re too cute when you’re coy like this. 

“I’ll even text you when I’m tucked in bed so you know I made it safely.” 

The last thing he expects you to do is kiss his cheek. He feels your lips on his skin and his entire body becomes frigid, like he suddenly forgot how to breathe. Sunghoon thinks he might trip on his way back to his apartment at this rate. 

“Goodnight, Hoonie. Text me when you’re home.”

***

You don’t get the chance to spend any time with Sunghoon for the next couple of weeks because your work leaves you too tired to do anything outside of your apartment since it requires a few hours during your weekends. Sunghoon seems to understand and doesn’t push you to go out with him too much. Part of you wants to invite him over to your place for something casual, but your tendency to overthink prevents you from putting that offer on the table. 

Heeseung can tell you’re overwhelmed when he sees you. You hide yourself away in the confines of your office and don’t make conversation with him like you typically would. The start of the holidays mark a tumultuous time for you and he knows that better than anybody else. He can’t help but be a little concerned when you don’t join him for lunch like you typically do if meetings don’t interfere. When he sees you eating at your desk with a pathetic looking sandwich with a single bite taken out of it, he walks into your office without knocking and replaces his lunch with yours. 

“Don’t even think about scolding me for coming here unannounced.” Heeseung gestures at your desk. “Eat.” 

“You don’t deserve to eat a poorly made sandwich.” 

“Oh, and you do?” 

You groan. “No. But I was in a rush and forgot to pack a lunch last night.” 

“What’s going on? I’ve never seen you like this.” 

“My mom keeps asking me if I’m going to come home and I feel so guilty that I keep dodging it. I know she means well, but that’s what makes it worse. She keeps telling me she wants to have one weekend with me for Christmas, even if it isn’t on the actual holiday because she hasn’t seen me in a while. 

“I feel like I’m disappointing her, you know? It’s hard to leave the bubble I’ve created for myself because I know I have to face all of the bullshit I faced with my dad when I go back. It feels like I become the teenage version of myself who couldn’t express her feelings and kept everything bottled up inside. I want to forget all of that. I don’t want to be that kind of person anymore.” 

“Do you want to go?” 

“I do, but I can’t bring myself to actually buy a train ticket. I want to go home and not feel this contempt but I can’t help it. I hate it there. I hate walking through the hallways because I can hear his footsteps and the way he used to yell at me when I did something wrong. I can’t escape these feelings when winter starts. I mean, you know me. The holidays only became what it is because I try not to think about how fucking awful it used to be.” 

“You can’t run from everything forever, though.” Heeseung looks at you like he’s trying to drill his words into your head. “You’ve already done the work to push past it.”

“I know, but it’s hard to be in a place that feels like an empty home. I’m so nostalgic for everything I loved as a kid but it gets tainted when I think about my dad and how hard it was for my mom to raise me by herself. All I can think about is how I felt when I couldn’t do anything to save myself. But on the other hand, I feel so guilty for missing him too. He had his moments and I try to think about that instead of thinking about the bad ones. He’s not here to make me feel like I have to watch my back, but why does it feel like I still have to?”

“You’ve been through a lot and you have to understand that the average person doesn’t go through a lifetime of pain and trauma before they turn twenty-one. It feels like you’re stuck because there aren’t many people who can relate to you.”

You sigh. “I guess so. It feels lonely and isolating. It doesn’t matter how many times I open up to a therapist about it either. It always feels like I’m running so fast that I end up tripping over myself.” 

“So, what are you gonna do about it? Sit here and mope or make a decision?”

“It’s not that easy.”

“It is, though. You’re somebody who hates waiting around for people to save you. The only way to resolve anything is to pick a decision and stick with it until the end. If you regret it, at least you can say you tried.” 

“It’s really hard to self sabotage when I’m friends with you.” 

Heeseung laughs at that. “I know. I won’t let you do that either.” 

“I think I mostly feel bothersome for always talking about the same old problem to you.” 

“It doesn’t bother me. I care about you and you clearly need to talk to somebody who knows you inside and out. I’ve seen how difficult it is for you to open up and the fact that you’ve grown so close with Sunghoon in a short amount of time is incredible to me.” 

You groan and slump over your desk. “Don’t remind me. I haven’t properly seen him in weeks and feel awful that I have no energy to hang out whenever he asks me to. I hope he doesn’t think I’m ghosting him.”

“He doesn’t.” 

“How could you possibly know that?” Heeseung pulls out his phone and lets you glance over his texts with Sunghoon. 

“He asked if you were okay a while back and said he was worried since you kept declining to go out. His first thought was that you might’ve been sick or burned out, not that you were ghosting him.”

“Burned out is definitely the right answer.” 

Heeseung smiles at his phone. “Hoon was worried that he was coming off too strong by texting you so much. I told him you’d probably appreciate hearing from him more than giving you space.”

“Since when do you call him ‘Hoon’?”

“We’re close like that.” 

“That makes me nervous.” 

“I’ll be sure to divulge your crush on him while we hang out tonight.” You throw the cap of a pen at his chest. “He said he missed you, though.” 

“I miss him.” You groan a little too loudly for your liking. “I haven’t had any energy these last couple of weeks and I’ve been overthinking the hell out of kissing his cheek when I last saw him.”

“Sorry, you did what?!” 

“I kissed his cheek when he left my apartment and I can’t tell if I regret it or not.” 

“Dude, Sunghoon is clearly not weirded out by that,” Heeseung says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “He wouldn’t be checking in with me about your mental state if he thought it was weird.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive. You don’t have to do anything crazy with him either. I get the feeling he’s the type of guy who’d appreciate doing anything as long as it’s with people he enjoys being around. He’d probably enjoy it if you two stayed in and watched movies.” 

“I can do that.” You pull your phone out and search for his contact. “I could do a movie and takeout.” 

“See? There's nothing to be worried about. You’re just stressed out about going home. Take it one day at a time.”

Sunghoon agrees to have a quiet night in when the weekend approaches and you find yourself sitting in his living room instead of your own. He tells you to come over in your pajamas with your worries left at his doorstep and asks you to let him take care of everything, including ordering takeout and paying for it. He tells you he’s up for watching a Christmas movie, but you’ve had your fill and the two of you decide to watch reruns of Community on Netflix as a way to relax through laughter and comedy. 

“I’m sorry that you’ve had a rough couple of weeks,” he says as he sits next to you on the couch. He’s encouraged you to put your feet up and sit however you’d like, and crossing your legs feels like a respectable position. He sits at a short distance from you, far enough that you aren’t touching but close enough that you can feel the warmth radiate off of him. 

“It’s that time of year. Everybody wants answers but nobody is willing to put in the work. It gets like this every December because everybody’s trying to finish strong before winter break.” 

“Still though, the guys made it seem like this was an everyday occurrence for you and seeing you so tired made me worried.” Your heart skips a beat. 

“Ah, well…my friends know I can push through anything. Jay’s the one who understands me the most when I get like this. I’ve been getting better at asking for help and they know I’ll come to them if I need to.”

“What about when you don’t?”

“Don’t what?”

“Ask for help?”

You turn to look at him. “I guess they force me to open up until I get annoyed and tell them to leave me alone. But that usually doesn’t last very long and I cave in since they never seem to listen to me anyway.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind for the future.” Sunghoon takes a small handful of the popcorn sitting on the coffee table and shoves it in his mouth. “You have good friends and I can tell they love you.”

“I owe them a lot, if I’m being honest. Sometimes it feels like I don’t do enough for them.” 

“You must be a good friend if they care about you that much, too. Don’t sell yourself short.” Sunghoon seems to see you in ways you can barely see yourself and his constant reminders always leave you speechless. 

“How’ve you been? How’s your photography class and work?”

“My classes wrapped up last week. It was bittersweet. I love my instructor and I’m sad that he and I are parting ways, but he’s taught me a lot that I’ll definitely remember when I pick up a camera. Work is fine as well, it’s getting a little busy because of the holidays but it’s nothing I can’t manage. They know about the situation with my parents so we’re trying to take it as it comes.” 

“Have you resolved that?” 

Sunghoon shakes his head. “Not yet…It feels like they don’t get it at all.” 

“I’m really sorry, Hoonie.” 

“It is what it is. I’ll miss Seoul a lot for more reasons than one.” He looks at you and your heart skips another beat. 

“Living here won’t be the same without running into you, I’ll tell you that much.”

“I’ll cherish those moments forever,” he teases. “I don’t know what I’m going to do but I’m going to try to convince them to hold off on retiring for a few years. I talked to our landlord and managed to negotiate one more month when I told him about what’s happening. I have enough to pay for that and I’m a little shocked that he agreed.” 

“Must be a Christmas miracle.” He looks at you with an unreadable expression. 

“Maybe. Have you decided if you’re going back home or not?”

You pick at your fingers. “I’m still on the fence about it. She called me yesterday and slipped that question in halfway through the conversation. I can tell she’s empathetic about it, though. She knows how hard it is for me to be back home with everything that happened with my dad. Part of me wants to go because I miss her, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Train tickets are probably too expensive anyway.”

“I’ll drive you.” 

You turn to face him. “Sunghoon, it’s a two hour drive.”

“And?”

“I’m not making you drive two hours to my house and two hours back to Seoul.” He looks at you like this is the easiest decision he’s ever had to make. 

“You’re not forcing me to do anything. I want to. This has been weighing on your mind for a long time and I don’t want you to miss out on spending the holidays with your mom just because of how much a ticket would cost to get you there.”

“Sunghoon–”

“It’s no sweat off of my back. I’m serious about it. I don’t have classes anymore and my work schedule is flexible. Plus, I think it could be cute to see where you grew up.” 

“That’s…Really sweet of you.” Sunghoon turns to look at you too and smiles with those plush lips you think about kissing a little too much. You try to reel it in because he’s your friend and that’s what friends do, right? 

“You’ve done a lot for me. The least I could do is drive you home.” 

You don’t say anything. You can’t say anything. Sunghoon sees you from the corner of his eye as you turn back to face the TV, and he watches you try to hide a smile. He turns away and feels his own cheeks flush at the thought of seeing you in your hometown, even if it’s for a short while. Above all, Sunghoon wants this Christmas to feel like it’s the best one you’ve ever had on the account that you’ve made Seoul feel like home for him. 

The night progresses and you switch to a movie halfway through the night until you yawn. Sunghoon grabs a blanket and puts it over the both of you instead of suggesting you go back to your apartment. Somehow, this gesture feels kinder than anything anybody has ever done for you. 

You’re both acutely aware of how close your bodies are because of the blanket but neither of you care all that much. Your shoulder keeps bumping into his every time you move and eat the popcorn he’s provided, and Sunghoon silently wishes that he could pull your body against his once and for all. He doesn’t, choosing to savor the way your side touches him instead of doing anything that might make you uncomfortable. But somewhere in your tired stupor, you put your head on his shoulder and yawn. 

“Thank you everything,” you say quietly. “You don’t know how much it means to me that you’d drive me home.”

“I’d do anything for you.” Sunghoon says it a bit too quickly but he doesn’t regret telling you that. 

“I wish I could repay you.”

“Being here is enough. Can I try something?” 

When you nod, Sunghoon maneuvers himself so that his back rests against the arm of the couch with his body spread across the cushions without disrupting you too much. You don’t fight against him when he scoops you into his arms and places your head on his chest. You feel his heartbeat in this position. It’s slow and melodic, unlike your fantasies of hoping the cute guy next door would have a rapid heart rate every time he saw you. But you think you like this better; Sunghoon seems to be comfortable around you. 

For the fear of touching you too much, Sunghoon keeps his hands by his side and pulls them away when he realizes he’s touching your exposed skin. You let go of every thought telling you to run away and grab his arms to wrap them around your own body, nuzzling your way close to his with your eyes closed in contentment. 

In lieu of saying goodnight, you kiss his chest and Sunghoon thinks he might be on cloud nine.

***

In the time between telling your mother you’d be home for a couple of days over the weekend to arriving at her doorstep, your friends have expressed their happiness in your decision. Jake couldn’t help but feel emotional when you told him and you get the feeling that Jay always knew the decision you’d make. Heeseung chose to forego teasing you out of solidarity for this vulnerable moment and wishes you all the best. However, all three of them did not hold back in telling you every joke in the book when you told them Sunghoon was dropping you off and picking you up. 

Sunghoon drives seamlessly and you silently thank him for it because approaching the familiar quietness of your neighborhood makes you feel somewhat uneasy. Your stomach turns in flips when you see that same house you used to look up at whenever you’d come home from school. It’s still jarring to see that only your mom’s car is parked on the street with your father’s car nowhere to be seen. It’s a physical reminder that he isn’t here and you don’t know if you’re relieved or not. She greets you the moment Sunghoon parks his car and the feeling of melting into her arms is indescribable. 

“I missed you,” she whispers into your hair. “It’s been so long.”

“I know, Eomma. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. You’re here now and that’s all I care about. You’re Sunghoon, right?” He turns to look at you as he pulls your duffle bag out of his car and bows at a full ninety degrees for just a second too long. She finds it amusing and tells him so when he stands up. 

“Pleasure to meet you. Y/N has great things to say about you.”

“Oh, trust me. She has good things to say about you too.”

“Okay!” You clap your hands and grab the bag from Sunghoon, turning your body away from him. “I think we’ve had a long car ride and can find literally anything else to talk about.” 

“I should get going before traffic gets bad. It was nice to meet you.”

“Come in for some tea!” 

She doesn’t give him the chance to respond but he doesn’t seem to mind. Sunghoon takes off his shoes and leaves them in the corner as your mom presents the two of you with a freshly brewed pot that reminds you of your childhood. The interior looks the same as it has since you last visited and that big family portrait still hangs above the couch in the living room. Your father smiles back at you like he’s happy you’re here. 

Sunghoon chooses to remain quiet as he drinks his tea to give you and your mom some time to catch up. He feels a bit awkward in a stranger’s home when this trip was supposed to be about you and your family, but he can’t say he isn’t pleased when the warmth of the tea starts to settle in his chest. Photos of you from your childhood line the walls and he can’t help but comment about how adorable you look in pink bows and frilly dresses. You look as cute then as you do now, but that’s something he will never tell you. 

Your mom brings out a small booklet of photos from your past, too. You try to prevent her from showing Sunghoon but he laughs it off and sits with pictures of you from elementary school in his hands. He tries not to let it show that his hands are shaking because you let your chin rest on his shoulder as you peer over him. He can feel your warm breath on his neck and it sends him into a short spiral until you’re scooping up the book and handing it back to your mom with a bashful smile on your face. 

He can see that you’re trying your best not to feel like that same, awkward mess of a teenage girl when your mother tells him stories about you from childhood. She tells him about the first time you performed in a dance recital and how you were center stage only to accidentally trip on your shoelaces that nearly sent you flying into the audience. She tells him about your first overseas vacation to Disney World in Florida because it was the first time you learned you hated humidity and people who didn’t know how to drive. 

With every hour that passes by, Sunghoon starts to think he understands you better. He knows you to be somebody who’s independent and confident, but the idea that you had to work hard towards it was lost on him until he came to visit your hometown. He understands why you felt so trapped here between your mother’s rants about how difficult your dad was to the limited opportunities for you to thrive. She tells him a bit about how you were emotionally unavailable in your teenage years despite your protests (as mothers tend to do), but she finishes her thought by telling Sunghoon how she’s always thought you were destined for things greater than what a small fishing town could ever offer you. He pretends like he’s got allergies when he feels his eyes watering up. 

Sunghoon asks to stretch his legs and by the time the night approaches, he’s agreed to stay over and spend more time visiting your favorite places and where you grew up. Your mom tells him not to feel like he’s intruding, as she rarely gets to spend time with anybody in your life, and he decides that this little vacation might be good for him. He offers to pay for dinner and he thinks he’s gained some approval for that. 

Time passes by too quickly for his liking. You’ve taken him everywhere you can think of–your old ice skating rink, your favorite boba shop, the schools you’ve attended–but it still feels like he’s barely scratched the surface of getting to know you before adulthood. He loves that you’re so open about yourself in a way that he’s never been able to. You talk his ear off about drama that you haven’t thought about in decades and he listens and feels several different emotions on your behalf despite not knowing anybody you’re talking about. He parks his car in the parking lot of your high school and the two of you spend an hour eating takeout from your favorite sandwich shop and gossipping about the entire town just for the two of you to hear. 

You talk about your dad on occasion and he doesn’t pry you to talk about it either. Sunghoon hears the melancholy in your voice when you think about old memories and missing him in ways you’ve never been able to experience before. You tell him that it’s been four years since you lost yourself. You also tell him that you don’t want to live the kind of life where you’re held back by his opinion anymore. He’s here in the walls and all over town, and the weight of missing him doesn’t feel like a burden anymore. It feels like a step towards freedom to be who you are, free from the anchors that kept you sheltered. Sunghoon knows your mother must be proud of you for making this decision because he sees it in her smile when she watches you laugh.

He decides he wants this kind of life; Sunghoon wants to be supported by his family when it comes to what he wants to do with his life. He wishes his parents believed in him as much as your mother believes in you. Seeing her so open and welcoming to a complete stranger and bragging about your accomplishments to him makes Sunghoon yearn for that kind of unconditional love too. Even in the moments when you get quiet over unpleasant memories that seem to resurface from coming back home, it seems that she helps you through it and doesn’t shame you for feeling the way that you do. It’s something Sunghoon desperately wishes he could do instead of entertaining conversations about taking over his family’s business. 

If there’s one thing you’ve taught Sunghoon, it’s that he can fall as many times as he wants so long as he chooses to get back up again. He’s come to love how open you are when it comes to people and experiences because he’s starting to understand just how difficult your childhood was until you found your footing in Seoul. Being alone meant exploring who you were without the opinions of people who wanted to hold you back. Even if people gave you reasons to shun the world and expect apologies from everybody under the sun, you hold your chin up with dignity and choose to move on instead of dwelling on people and things that don't matter. He wishes he could be like that too.

“Are you happy?” 

Sunghoon stares at your ceiling in your childhood bed when he asks you that. He’s a bit surprised that he’s allowed to be here at all and offered to take the couch, but your mother said the two of you are adults and don’t need her permission. The two of you were blushing messes when she left the two of you alone to unpack your clothes while she gave him an extra toothbrush and old clothes from her brother who left them at her place. The two of you decided that it would be too awkward to try to not cuddle on your surprisingly comfortable twin bed and he chooses to use this as an excuse to touch you. He hasn’t heard a complaint from you and the feeling of your body wrapped up in his is exhilarating.

“I am, yeah. This weekend was a lot better than I thought it would be.”

“But are you happy with your life? Are you happy with yourself?” You push yourself off his body and look down at him.

“Where’s this coming from?” 

“I kept thinking about my life and my parents for the past couple of days. Your mom’s sweet and I can tell she believes in you whenever she tells me about your life here. It sounds like she did her best to raise you between work and your dad, and I can never imagine how stressful your childhood must've been with him in the house. I see how much you’ve grown from everything. It’s inspiring.”

“I don’t know if inspiring is the right word. I think I was dealt with shitty cards and expected an apology from the world without realizing that I had to work on myself in order to receive it.”

“That’s the thing, though. I can see that you’ve put in the work to become a better person. My parents aren’t as supportive as your mom and I kept thinking to myself: ‘Do I want to go through with a life that’s already planned for me when I know I’ll be unhappy?’”

Sunghoon looks up at you when he feels you brush his hair from his eyes. He can’t really tell what you’re thinking about as you look all over his face but the gentle touch of your fingertips puts him at ease as his mind begin to race. 

“I am happy. There are moments where I feel like the world is crumbling around me, but I know tomorrow is around the corner. I used to think that there wouldn’t be people out there who would ever believe all of the things I went through, but meeting the guys and making a life for myself makes me think otherwise. I’m happier because of it.” 

“That makes me feel hopeful.”

“Does it?” 

He nods and closes his eyes when your fingertip draws an invisible pathway across his cheek and down the bridge of his nose. You get dangerously close to his lips but your hand merely cups his jaw and your simple, gentle touch is enough for Sunghoon to realize he’s fallen far too hard to give up on his future, especially if you’re in it. 

“Yes,” he says in a whisper. “You make me feel like I could do anything if I try hard enough.” 

Sunghoon stares at you like you’ve hung up every star in the galaxy for him to see. When he looks at you, everything he’s been too afraid to say comes bubbling to the surface and his life beyond today becomes as clear as day. He wants to wake up next to you every morning and listen to your childhood stories until you run out of breath. He wants to spend every Christmas with you and fill your memory box with as many receipts with his signature on it. There is no future without you in it. 

You kiss him so tenderly that Sunghoon thinks he might be imagining things. Your palm is warm to the touch and he’s quick to react, pulling your body closer to his while his arms enclose your body against him. Sunghoon doesn’t know how many nights he’s spent imagining what your lips taste like or the way you sound with his mouth on yours, but nothing could ever compare to the real thing. 

He maneuvers you onto his lap because of the limited space on your twin bed and his body feels like it’s set ablaze when the back of your thighs touch his lap. You’re wearing thin shorts and an oversized shirt while he’s wearing clean basketball shorts from his car and a shirt your mom let him borrow. He feels your breasts push against his muscular chest as you lean against him for support and tilt your head to capture his mouth like you’re trying to taste all of him at once, and Sunghoon thinks he likes it when you’re desperate for him too. 

The weight of your body on his lap inevitably makes him hard and the quiet gasp into his mouth makes Sunghoon buck himself up into you. You grip onto his shoulders and dig push him back down onto the mattress to keep yourself steady and he’s about to apologize for crossing a boundary until you grind yourself onto him too. You tug at the hem of his shirt and he complies, taking it off in one fell swoop. 

“You’re really hot, you know that?” 

“Would you believe me if I told you I work out for you?”

“Not even a little bit.” Sunghoon laughs as he pulls your shirt off of your body delicately, cupping your breasts in his hands as he gives them a soft squeeze. 

“You’re perfect,” he whispers. “So perfect.” 

He’s hard underneath you, so much so that you feel him through your thin sleeping shorts. His cock is situated between your folds and every small movement you make is enough to make him feel like he’s losing his mind. Sunghoon holds your breasts in his hands as you push yourself off of his lap just to sink your weight back down. He gives your nipples a squeeze periodically and he makes a mental note when you throw your head back and moan. 

“I’m so wet,” you whisper when you sit upright, your hips continuing to grind against him. The way your voice cracks makes him feel better about being desperate to feel you. “This feels so good, Hoonie. But we can’t. My mom’s down the hall.” 

“Do you trust me?” 

Seeing you nod is enough for him. Sunghoon’s thankful your mattress isn’t loud or bumping against the wall. He temporarily pulls you off of his body to kick off his shorts and feels a bit shy when you stare at how big and hard he is through his boxers. You push your lap back down onto his and he refrains from moaning too loud, silencing himself by pulling your lips down to his by your neck. His hands wander to your ass as you feel his toned chest and abdomen too. He pushes and pulls your body over his cock and moves his lips to kiss up your jawline. 

“I wish I could fuck you properly like you deserve,” he says, leaving a wet trail of kisses on your skin. 

“I want that too.” 

“I’d worship every inch of you.” He uses his hands to press you against his lap until you bite back a moan. “I want to know what you feel like.”

“Fuck.”

“Cute.” 

He kisses your chin and wraps his arms around your lower back to keep you in place before thrusting his hips up to meet yours. Sunghoon catches you by surprise and you bite his shoulder to keep yourself from moaning too loud every time his clothed cock bumps against your clit. He’s so warm underneath you and this kind of touch is one that you’ve been craving longer than you’d like to admit. 

The passion is short lived and the two of you don’t care how quick it takes the two of you to come undone in the quiet of your bedroom. He kisses you and tries to swallow the sound of your lips smacking against one another, too afraid that one wrong move could make your mother distrust him. Sunghoon’s kisses make you dizzy but you cling onto him like he’s your lifeline until your high ebbs away, and the two of you clean up before getting a well deserved, good night’s rest. 

***

Sunghoon can barely keep his hands off of you when the two of you arrive back to your apartment. He tells you to come back to his place and have a cup of tea with him before you part ways and you agree. The entire car ride home made you feel like you might as well be living in one of your daydreams because he didn’t mind it when you pulled one of his hands from the steering wheel to hold it the entire drive back. He’d switch from holding your thigh to kissing the back of your hand every time you changed the music. The two of you sang your hearts out to pop songs from the 2000s and pretended to perform in front of an audience when dramatic ballads came on shuffle.

Things fall into place on the ride back. You decide to pursue a promotion when it opens in the new year and text your friends to tell them you’re safe and with Sunghoon. They make you promise to tell them all about this past weekend and try to get you to reveal your presents, but you refuse and include Sunghoon in all of the jokes they tell you in your group chat before they ask if he wants to be added into the main one. In every sense of the word, it felt like the two of you found a home in each other. 

He lets you change into fresh clothes and shower before you knock on his apartment. Sunghoon feels his heartbeat picking up when you show up in a tank top and shorts with no bra on, and he feels a bit like a teenage boy seeing a girl semi-naked for the first time. The two of you talk about your trip and the next festive thing you’ll do when he feels himself starting to get worked up. All Sunghoon can think about was keeping his promise to you when he made you orgasm through your panties. He wants you to know that he loves you, so he decides to tell you that when you stand up to put your mug in his sink.

“I love you. I’m telling you right now that I’d do anything you asked me to.” 

Sunghoon squeezes your hips with his fingers like he’s trying to convey what he says through his touch. His breath is warm as it fans against your lips and the heat of his apartment makes your cheeks and neck warm up from where you stand. He breathes heavily, as if his confession carries a great deal of weight to it. Every word he speaks drips with honesty and the loyalty behind it scares you. 

And yet, you can’t bring it in yourself to pull away when he kisses you. 

His soft, pillowy lips approach your own with caution. You feel him hover above you until he’s ghosting his mouth against yours as if you’re a magnet he can no longer resist. Sunghoon’s lips descend upon your own and he holds your body tightly against him like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. 

You both move like two slow dancers, swaying to the silent melody only audible by those who pay close enough attention. It’s at this moment you understand why poets and romantics speak of a hidden language only two lovers know. Sunghoon’s confession strengthens the feelings you’ve harbored for him and something about the way he touches you makes you feel like you can let go of your inhibitions. He’s brought your eagerness bubbling to the surface and you find that the harder you try to ignore your love for him, the louder your heart beats inside of your chest. 

You can’t help but think about how perfectly you slot against Sunghoon when you wrap your arms around his neck. He squeezes your hips the more you push into him and kisses you like he’s trying to commit the way your lips feel to memory. All of your worries melt into the floor the moment Sunghoon pulls away to look at your face under the ambient lighting and his gentle touch brushes your hair out of your face. His delicate thumbs come to cup your jawline and rub the apples of your cheeks as if you were made of something breakable. Sunghoon looks at you like this with the kind of gaze that can only be described as fondness. He looks at you with an accumulation of his feelings and desires of being wanted for who he is, not who he’s supposed to be. 

When Sunghoon looks at you, what he sees before him is a strong girl who braves the toughest weather in a tiny row boat with nothing but her wits and a single paddle. It’s your intelligence and patience that steers you away from the turbulent waters. You’re a beacon that lights a dark tunnel and deep down, Sunghoon knows that you’re his guiding light that’ll lead him home. It was your charm and passion that drew him in, and it’s your resilience and willpower that makes him want to stay. 

“I am nothing without you.” Sunghoon kisses both of your cheeks and his warm lips feel like comforting reminders that he’ll always be with you. 

“Hoonie…”

“What is it?” 

“Kiss me.” 

He does, with a slow pass at your lips while his hands cradle your cheeks in his hands and the tenderness of his touch feels something akin to puzzle pieces falling into place. The feeling is intense and overwhelming the more you drink in Sunghoon’s words to you and in this very moment, you allow yourself to believe he means what he says. Your hands find perch on his wrists as you grip onto him to anchor yourself. Sunghoon keeps kissing you as he puts one hand behind your head while the other moves to your upper back. He’s got you, even when you fall onto the mattress behind you when he dips your body backwards. 

Sunghoon hovers above your body and cages you underneath him as his warm mouth pushes against you rougher than before. He squeezes your hip until both legs are wide open enough for him to slot his body between them. It’s like he can’t get enough of the way you feel against his body because he finally has you exactly where he wants you. Sunghoon’s heart beats loudly in his chest that he feels the vibrations in his ears the more he listens to the way you two kiss, paired with your hands pushing up his shirt. Your fingernails rake down his abdomen and it leaves him a panting mess while he sucks in his stomach at the intense feeling. Sunghoon pushes a quiet moan against your mouth and you drink it up like it’s water. 

“I want to see you.” 

You whisper your incantation against his lips and the desperation in your voice enchants him. Sunghoon moves his fingertips to the hem of his shirt and briefly disconnects your mouth to pull it over his body completely before coming back down to kiss you again. He feels your hands spread across his shoulders and arms, squeezing his biceps while you moan at their firmness. They touch his chest and down to his sculpted abdomen when he jolts and he emits that same, breathy moan from before. 

Sunghoon chases your lips when you push his chest away from you and it takes two tries until he’s pulling his body back. The way you look underneath him does not compare to when he dreams of you like this. You’re breathtaking and alluring with your hair fanned out and lips wet and swollen from his kiss. He loves the way you look at him like he’s your consolation prize for befriending him all that time ago, and Sunghoon thinks he loves the feeling of you looking at his body like you’re a step from objectifying him. It feels like you’re finally taking what you want without hesitating to, like you’re not ashamed of feeling so intensely about him. That guard you keep up, the one placed there in protection against those who have the intention of abandoning you, has vanished only for him.

“Touch me.” 

His baritone command rings in your head while your hand spreads across his abdomen. Your fingers feel every hard ridge and the way he constricts his stomach underneath your touch. Sunghoon holds your hand underneath his to pull it up to his neck and guides you down his body as if he wants you to memorize what he feels like too. Somewhere between his parted lips and intense eye contact is when you realize your sanity is nowhere to be found, and it seems like he can tell because he feels the way your legs squeeze him. 

“I want you to see me too.” 

His fingers lift the hem of your shirt. “Can I take this off?”

When you nod, his fingers begin to tremble the higher the fabric travels up your body. Your skin is warm and soft underneath his tongue and he’s afraid that he’ll forget what you look like if his eyes stray from you. He pushes your top until he sees your deep green bra that hides your chest from him and pushes your back into an arch for him to unhook the fabric without much of a fuss. 

He doesn’t know where to look first. The bra is thrown haphazardly beside him and you can’t bring yourself to care about where it is on his bedroom floor. Instead, his hands cup your breasts and his fingers give a light squeeze as if to experiment with them. Sunghoon’s eyes gloss over your body and his mouth parts in astonishment the more he soaks your image in. He brings the pads of his thumbs to rub your nipples that have grown hard and sensitive since he pushed you onto the bed. 

Slowly, he descends. His warm mouth wraps around your left nipple with a tantalizing slowness that makes you feel like time is frozen around the two of you. Your heart drums in your chest at his merciful tongue that experimentally licks your nub. Sunghoon’s eyes dart up to look at you and drink in every reaction from his movements, and when he feels your chest arch into him upon sucking his mouth around your nipple, he brings his hand to the other and pinches it until you yelp. 

He flattens his tongue to lick you up before moving his head to switch to your other nipple, pressing a wet kiss to the valley between your breasts before attaching himself back onto you. The spot where his lips touched you blooms underneath your skin and sends a soft buzz all over your body. It’s hard to focus on his mouth when you feel overwhelmed in the best way possible. 

“So soft.” Sunghoon mutters in the quiet silence apart from your quiet pants and his mouth working your nipple. He grips your breasts and pushes them together as if to admire your naked chest with you watching him. 

“Hoonie—”

“I need to taste you.” He licks between both nipples and speaks as if he’s read your mind just by looking at you. “Can I? Please?” 

To be yearned like this feels like it could’ve been a blessing from above. Sunghoon looks at you with determination when you nod and you watch him sink further down your body with his hands following in his wake. In the quiet of his room, the bedsheets rustle underneath you when he beckons you to sit back against the pillows at the top of his bed. His warm and heavy breaths touch your thighs when he hooks his fingers around your shorts and pulls them down along with your panties. He hums when he pulls them off of you completely and looks directly between your legs, bringing both of his palms to feel your smooth legs until they come to grip your inner thighs. 

His electric touch is a spark you cannot seem to run away from. You feel completely frozen underneath his stare but you can’t bring yourself to shy away from his touch or sink deeper within yourself. Something about the man before you brings out the desires and needs you keep locked away, tucked inside the smallest cupboard in the back of your mind with the key long gone. But somehow, Sunghoon has paved his own way and brought you to your knees with a single kiss.

Sunghoon kisses your inner thighs, his pillowy lips leaving traces of cool spit onto your hot skin. His slow, soft pace is the kind of patience you wish for yourself. You love how kind and gentle he is when he’s with you and he never pushes you farther than your own capacity. He lets you set the tone and lead him wherever you choose to go, and his delicate touches with your body completely bare before him makes you think love and sex can be just as powerful as everyone says it is. When Sunghoon’s mouth comes to pass your core, he kisses the middle of your slit and savors the way your lap moves against him. 

“You feel so good.” He mutters against your other thigh like he’s saying a prayer. “So pliant for me.” Sunghoon nips at the juncture and smiles to himself when you gasp before returning to your mound, his left hand caressing your thigh while his other brings his thumb to knick at your hardened, aroused nub. 

“Sunghoon, I can’t…”

“Can’t what, baby?” 

“I can’t wait anymore.” When Sunghoon looks up at you, he sees the lust by the way your mouth parts just slightly ajar and how your chest rises and falls in anticipation. Who is he to deny you of your pleasure? 

Without another word, Sunghoon closes his eyes and sticks his tongue out to lick a fat stripe up your folds. Your moans are like music to his ears and he swears he could bottle it up and keep it shelved for days. The way you taste covers the surface of his wet muscle and he hums right into your core the more his mouth explores your aroused hole, poking the tip inside of you with every other swipe of his tongue just to tease you. 

“Ah, ahh!” Sunghoon loves hearing the way you whine underneath him and moans in appreciation when you roll your hips against his face because of him. It motivates him to move his head against you too, angling his face to lick every every single part of you. 

Your hands find themselves gripping your naked breasts in an attempt to ground yourself as your chest becomes one with the ceiling the more you arch your back. Sunghoon’s hands come to hold your waist and keep your legs spread before him before you can even think about falling back onto the bed. His touch is magnetic and you don’t think you’ve ever been so desperate to be touched by anyone before him. 

He lets your body fall and decides to give your legs a break since they’ve been spread out for him for so long. Your hips thank him when he lifts them both into the air and temporarily separates himself from your core to look at you like this. Sunghoon rises to kneel before you and his saliva leaves a string of spit when he detaches from your swollen folds. 

“Your pussy is so pretty.” Sunghoon stares intently at your glistening core and he’s mesmerized by the way you clench at his praise. He brings his thumb to your clit and rubs your sensitive nub and smears your wetness around your folds, his other hand holding your legs up for you. “I can’t believe you deprived me of it for so long. 

“I wanna cum,” you moan selfishly when he sticks two of his fingers inside. Your smooth walls engulf his digits and your arousal splashes around the more he pumps them in and out of you. 

“My baby wants to cum?” he asks rhetorically, thrusting his fingers rapidly while your hands come to steady your legs in the air the way he’s been holding you. “You deserve to cum, baby. Let me make you feel good. Shit, yeah, squeeze my fingers just like that.”

“I-I can’t hold it!” 

“Cum right now or I’ll stop fucking you.”

As if a dam’s protective guard had shattered into a million pieces, Sunghoon’s command tips you over the edge and you release around his fingers. Your mind feels dizzy with the nonstop pleasure he’s been giving you and the way his fingers reach the deepest parts within you the more he angles himself on top of your body. His soft praises of a job well done sink into your chest the more he speaks. The sight of his toned biceps moving with every pass of your pussy makes you clench and push your orgasm out around his fingers. Sunghoon smiles wickedly at your mound the more you cream around his fingers and only stops pumping himself when your pussy squeezes him out. He brings his hand to his mouth and wraps them around his digits. 

“Mm,” he hums, closing his eyes and letting his shoulders drop. You peek at his lap and see his fully hardened cock tenting in his pants. The impressive size stares back at you like it’s daring you to take a peek. Sunghoon licks his fingers clean and catches you staring at his dick when he opens his eyes, but your lustful gaze only fuels his arousal. He leaks in his boxers and feels the precum soak the fabric. 

“You taste so fucking good.”

“Really?” Sunghoon grips your legs gently and settles them back down onto the mattress, soothing your sore thighs with his palms as he lightly massages your skin. He bends down to lick you one more time.

“Best pussy I’ve ever tasted. I could die between your legs.” 

“Sunghoon.” 

“I’m being serious.” 

He watches your hole when he pulls his pants and boxers down below his balls until his cock springs out and bounces in your presence. He’s big and girthy, just like you’d imagined the first time you saw the outline of his dick in his pants one morning. Sunghoon wraps his palm around his length and gives himself an experimental squeeze, hissing at the warm contact before tilting his head to spit on the head before stroking himself. The wet sound makes your core jolt in excitement. He watches you looking at him with your bottom lip caught between your teeth with an expression so determined that it makes him laugh from above you. 

“Eager for me?” You look up but you don’t answer him. “I’m always so fucking hard for you but I didn’t want to scare you away. You wore this long black dress that made your body look like sin a while back. I think about what your ass looked like in that dress from time to time.” 

Your brows furrow in confusion. “I haven’t worn that dress in so long…that was before we met.”

“Yeah,” he confesses, twisting his wrist against himself before pinching the tip. “Thought you were cute back then.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He stops stroking himself and kicks off the rest of his clothing before settling back between your stomach and cups your jawline with his hand. The way he looks at you is pure and nearly cliché, like the two of you might as well be the lead roles in a romance film. His warm, brown eyes bore into yours and you can’t say you don’t love it when he looks at you like this. 

“I didn’t want to get too attached to anything or anyone because I knew I had to go back home. I kept telling myself I wouldn’t do anything unless something gave me a reason to talk to you, and then we ran into each other with Jake’s ugly sweater.” 

You cheeks head up. “I forgot about that.” 

He kisses your lips once. “You looked so cute in it.”

“I look atrocious, Hoonie. It’s okay, it’s called an ugly sweater for a reason.”

“You could wear a trash bag and make it look fashionable.” 

“That’s a bit of a stretch, but I appreciate your faith in me.” Sunghoon kisses the tip of your nose. When he moves, you feel his bare cock resting against your folds and push your hips to meet him. His cock slots between them and Sunghoon hums when you grind against him, holding one of your hips steady. 

“Make me wet, baby.” Sunghoon kisses your jawline and his wet lips leave a cool trail on your skin the more you grind against him. “Make my cock wet enough to fuck you.” 

“Shit, shit…”

“Feels good, yeah?”

“So good,” you whisper. He kisses just beneath your earlobe and puckers his lips until he sucks the skin underneath. The tip of his cock catches your clit with every other pass and Sunghoon drinks up your moans like it’s water. 

“You’re gonna be a good girl and let me stick it in, right? You want my cock just as badly as I want your pussy, don’t you?” 

“You’re so fucking good at this.” He chuckles and his warm breath against your ear makes you shiver.

“Good at what, babe?”

“Talking. Touching me, fuck…everything.”

He drags his nose across your neck to the other side. “You deserve to feel good. You’ve been running around all over Seoul with no one to take care of you but me.” 

“Can’t believe I want you this much.” Without disrupting the position, Sunghoon reaches between your bodies and angles his cock until it breaches your hole with just his tip. It pulls a gasp out of you and Sunghoon lifts his head to watch your face morph in pleasure with your mouth open slightly ajar and eyes almost squinting in disbelief. 

“You don't even know the half of it. I want all of you all the time.” He pushes another inch inside of you. “I want to mold your pussy to the shape of my cock to the point that nobody else can fuck you as good as I can.” 

You grip onto his biceps. “F-Fuck.”

“I want to be the only person you look for. I don’t care how long it takes me to come back, but I’m not leaving you behind. I want you. Only you.” 

The feeling you get when you’re with him makes your chest feel tight with love and admiration the more Sunghoon looks at you like you’re the object of his affection, as if you’re something he cannot live without. You didn’t know that love could feel like an accumulation of every happy memory replaying in your head simultaneously. This newfound overwhelming sensation makes you feel like there isn’t anything you can’t face, as long as you face them with Sunghoon. 

He, on the other hand, finally understands why people talk about finding a home within another person. He’d never given second thought to romance when he knew that his life was planned out for him since he was born and never once thought that he’d get to make decisions on his own about his feelings when his entire livelihood is surrounded by order and duty. But here you are, lying so beautiful underneath him like a mosaic built from colorful stained glass with the sun peeking through it. You look like a dream with your face so pretty the more he pushes into you until he’s buried himself to his full capacity. 

Neither of you have ever had sex like this, so pure and raw with your bodies in tune with one another. It feels like the two of you exist beyond space and time with the way your breathing intensifies the more Sunghoon pulls out from you just to push right back inside. The intensity that permeates around his bedroom makes your breath run short and it fuels Sunghoon to keep a slow and steady rhythm, allowing his cock to reach the deepest parts within you without pushing you too fast. The whole affair is erotic and what can only be described as lovemaking. Sunghoon watches your eyes squeeze shut below him and brings a hand to push the stray hair away from your face. He thinks the two of you must’ve been fated in every universe for him to find, because there is not a single person he could ever imagine loving more than you. 

“I’ll fuck you every single day if you let me,” Sunghoon mutters against your neck. He pulls his body up and places both palms on either side of your body before rolling his hips back. The new angle pushes him in a way that makes you moan loudly. 

“Fuck, Sunghoon.” 

“My baby’s so fucking pretty when she’s filled with my cock. Do you love this as much as I do?” 

“Yes!”

“Do you love me as much as I love you?”

You don’t hesitate to answer him. 

“I love you. I want you here forever.” 

“I can give you forever. I swear on it.” 

He pistons his hips until the audible sound of his pelvis smacking against yours becomes the loudest sound in the room. His balls slap against your ass when you wrap your legs around his waist until he drops to his elbows to catch you and squeeze your body when you clench around him. He tucks himself into your neck and his forehead feels warm and sweaty to the touch, but you can’t say that you don’t love how much he’s putting his body–and yours–through the ringer just to make you cum as many times as he possibly can. 

None of this feels real. Sunghoon might as well be a figment of your imagination because it seemed impossible for sex to feel as good as he’s making you feel. All of your concerns about the future don’t exist when he’s bringing you closer and closer to your second orgasm. He, too, pushes all of his unwanted thoughts away in favor of helping you chase your release. Sunghoon’s determined to show you just how much he loves you by any means possible, and if his words of conviction won’t do him justice, he hopes his body will. 

It’s uncanny the way you feel completely safe around Sunghoon, when no one else has ever made you close to feeling the way you do with you. You’re able to break right before his very eyes and pick yourself off of the floor without feeling ashamed to have insecure and unwanted feelings about love and your attitude surrounding happenstances. You live your life based on the principle that everything happens for a reason and that people come and go but lessons will always stick with you. The people who live as ghosts in your past serve as reminders of painful memories and people who were never supposed to be here for very long, and you pray to the Heavens that Sunghoon is somebody meant to be in your life until forever comes to an end. 

Sunghoon holds himself off until he feels you unravel around him by the way you cling onto his body and clench around his cock. He brings his lips to yours and roughly pushes against your swollen ones when he feels you coming undone and allows himself to follow your lead. His cum fills you with thick, white ropes and oozes out from around him when your pussy can’t hold it in anymore. Sunghoon slows his pace down the more you try to catch your breath in an attempt to help you ride out your orgasm without overwhelming you too much. The squelches keep him semi-hard and your lips taste exactly like his favorite memory. 

“My good girl,” he whispers. “So sexy when you cum.” 

“You’re one to talk. You look like fucking Adonis right now.” 

Sunghoon laughs and kisses your forehead. “You flatter me too much.” 

“Nuh uh. I’m telling you the truth. It’s a little unfair how you always look so good, even when you aren’t trying.” 

“You’re one to talk.” He kisses your lips. “You always look so…cute.”

“Just cute?” 

“Pretty, too.” 

“Only pretty?” Sungoon smacks your outer thigh. 

“You are very beautiful and I’m enamored with you.” 

That makes you blush. “Hoon.” 

“What? Can’t a guy proclaim his love anymore?” 

Sunghoon’s body is warm against yours and he looks down at you with a fond smile in a way you always hoped somebody would. His dark eyes feel warm from above you and something about the way he’s watching you doesn’t make you feel observed. Rather, you feel a blooming warmth within your chest and nuzzle into his touch when he brings his hand to cup your face and rub the apple of your cheek. Sunghoon is gentle with his touch and you find it unbelievable that he’s managed to squeeze his way into your comfort zone as successfully as he had. You love his touch. You crave it, even.

His smile widens when you kiss the underside of his hand with a sweet peck and tilts his head in amusement. You feel bashful when Sunghoon looks at you like this because it feels reminiscent of having a crush in your childhood years, but with him, you can’t find that you dislike the way that you feel. His palm is warm and comforting, especially after spending so much time putting your body through physical rigor in ways you’ve never experienced. His strength never ceases to impress you and the nights you’ve spent picturing yourself underneath him suddenly have merit to them now. 

You find yourself breaking your own character when you lift your head up to push Sunghoon’s lips against yours and his response is immediate. Sunghoon’s plush lips melt right into yours and he slots himself against you like he was always supposed to be there, letting your head lie against the bed while his arm holds your waist. Everything about Sunghoon makes you wonder if love is supposed to feel like a quiet hug amidst a rainstorm, or if it’s supposed to feel like the crescendo in a brilliant symphonic masterpiece. Perhaps it’s a combination of both or none at all. These deep feelings you have for him have never been brought out by anyone before him. 

Sunghoon must know what you’re thinking because his hand travels up your body and back to your hair, gently scraping your scalp with his blunt fingertips. It feels so good to be loved and doted on like this without feeling like you don’t deserve to find an ounce of happiness with somebody who tells you they love you. Years of running away from the feeling of a comfortable embrace melts away with every second that passes with your lips on Sunghoon’s. He feels like every bit of home you’ve spent your whole life yearning for. 

“What are you thinking about?” His question pulls you out of your thoughts and you can’t find it in you to lie to him. 

“Is it selfish that I want you to stay?” 

“No, it’s not. I don’t want to leave Seoul either. I don’t want to leave you.”

“It feels like I just got you but now I have to let you go.”

He kisses you. “You don’t have to let me go. I’ll do whatever it takes to convince my parents to let me live the life that I want. Our trip to your hometown made me realize there’s more to life than people’s expectations of me.”  

You bottom lip quivers. “I’m scared that they won’t budge and that you’ll leave. I’m scared that you’re going to move on and leave me here thinking about you.” 

“I’d never.” He shakes his head like it’s a fact. “I could never forget you. I would never even think about moving on from you. I’m scared that somebody’s gonna snatch you up when I’m away.” 

“I’m really in love with you, unfortunately.” Sunghoon nips at your lip and cherishes the way you laugh. He looks away from you for a split second but the soothing touch of his hand feels comforting. He watches you frown for a minute. “I didn’t get you a present.”

“Baby, you’re my present.”

“That was really corny.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” He kisses you once more. “You’re too important for me to give up. I don’t want to let you go.” 

Somehow, you know he’s telling the truth. 

“Does this mean I’m your boyfriend now?”

“You have to ask.”

“Can I be your boyfriend?” 

You silence him with a kiss and when he feels you smiling against him, he has his answer. 

****

comments and reblogs are appreciated! :) x

[mattybsgroupie]

warm | matt sturniolo

contents: established relationship; p in v; creampie; cockwarming; semi-public sex; lowkey sub!matt

♡⊹𑄽୧

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ notes: good evening my loves!! im doing my best to post 1 full fic a week and hcs / blurbs on the other days i hope you guys see my effort lmfao “where’s dom matt” HE DOESNT LIVE HERE ANYMORE. HE’S GONE. and now we have a very long milf! X chris fic to work on. not proofread, enjoy!!!

♡⊹𑄽୧

matt was eager to try new things. new restaurants, new places to go, new parking lots to visit. in this particular night, you and matt had the duty to drive his brothers around. of course, he could just drop them off and pick them up later, but why not hanging out with his beautiful girlfriend while you both wait?

“where to, miss?” matt asked as his brothers walked out of the car, gently squeezing your thigh.

“wherever you wanna go” you say, placing your hand above his. throughout the ride, matt’s grip grew tighter and his breathe became heavier, as if there wasn’t enough air for you both. you sensed the shift in the atmosphere and gulped down, squeezing his hand lightly.

a small “hm?” came from matt’s lips, he was aware of each and every movement of yours. “no, nothing” you chuckled, trying to laugh it off.

the truth is that matt looked incredibly good, better than ever. his messy hair matched perfectly with his brown shirt and the cold metal of his rings pressed against your bare thighs, giving you goosebumps.

“c’mon, tell me what’s on your mind” matt said as soon as he parked the car on an empty street. “how on earth will your brothers find us?” you asked, noticing there was no one around.

“well, that’s the point” matt grinned, his fingertips wandering under your skirt. “i’m kidding, we have our location shared all the time so they’ll find us” he assured you, still caressing your skin.

“matt” you whispered, not being able to wait any longer before smashing your lips against his. he immediately leaned in, deepening the kiss as he slid his tongue inside your mouth, dragging the damp muscle against yours.

the kiss was wet, loud and desperate, as if you were touching each other for the first time. matt’s pants started to tighten — he was so easy to get going. a lingering kiss, a neck bite, a naughty smile, anything from you would get him pathetically hard, just like now.

“fuck” matt breathed out. “missed you s’much” he said as his hands travelled through your body, touching all his favorites spots. he held your waist with both hands, trying to bring you closer somehow.

you smiled at his eagerness, pulling away from the kiss and moving to his lap. “there we go” matt whispered, forcing your hips down on his thigh. you gasped at the sudden pressure, trying to keep your composure.

“baby, we’re not gonna fuck here” you spoke when matt brought his fingers under your shirt. his blue orbs widened in surprise, a pout appearing on his swollen lips. “w-why not?”

“your brothers are gonna be back anytime” you told him, cupping his cheeks and giving him a peck. “and we’re in public, matthew”

“don’t call me that” he whined at the name. “you know i like other names better” matt complained, not even thinking about giving up.

“yeah? like good boy?” you teased, ruffling his hair. matt threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his cock twitch.

he quietly nodded, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck. “so you’re gonna be my good boy and behave, alright?” you continued as matt dragged his face across your chest.

he looked up at you with puppy eyes, silently asking for at least some attention. “what do you want hm?”

“warm, please” matt practically begged, his voice coming out in a low whisper.

you smiled at matt, adjusting your position on his lap. he gasped when you fully sat on his crotch, pressing your palm against his hardened cock. you began to unbuckle his belt, quickly opening his zipper and revealing the wet patch on his underwear.

“just warm, yeah?” you repeated, touching his waistband, kissing his neck and going down to his collarbone as you pulled his dick out, wrapping your hand around matt’s shaft.

you pumped it a few times, spreading the pre-cum and coating his length. you touched his wrist and guided matt’s fingers to your panties, which he quickly pulled aside before pressing your clit with his thumb, gently rubbing it.

you let out a deep sigh, almost giving in. you lift your hips as you keep on stroking matt’s cock, guiding it towards your wet entrance. you guys were not having sex — he just needed to be warmed, and you just needed to be filled up.

“s-shit” matt mumbles as you rub your folds against his tip, teasing him. “please, i need inside” he complained once more, still pulling your panties to the side and holding your waist.

you gradually lowered yourself on his shaft, mouth hanging open from how big matt was. it seemed like forever until he got all the way in, his incredibly long dick hitting your cervix and stretching your walls open. you wrapped your arms around matt’s shoulders — it was your turn to hide on the crook of his neck.

matt gently caressed your back while placing kisses on your collarbone, an unreasonable amount of thanks coming from the back of his throat. “so tight ‘n so warm…” he said, feeling himself throb against your walls “feels so good”

“i love when you fill me up, prince” you cooed, running your fingers on his brown locks. you let go of the hug to look at him before lifting your shirt and placing your palm against your lower tummy. “you’re right here” you said, pointing to the outline of his dick showing.

matt sunk his teeth on his bottom lip, unwittingly bucking his hips forward, not being able to hold himself “s-sorry sorry fuck you just look so pretty taking my cock” matt explained, breathing heavily as he wrapped his arms around your waist, trying to bring you even closer. “matt, be a good boy hm?”

“‘m tryin’ i promise but you’re squeezing me so good” he cried, giving you puppy eyes again. you already knew that he we wanted two to cum, but for that, he needed your boobs. matt held you tighter, pouty lips revealing that he needed something to suck on.

you could be mean and give him your fingers, but you could tell he was really trying his best, considering that his cock leaked inside you. you smiled at him and and brought your shirt up, showing him your boobs.

he immediately shoved his face on your chest, moaning before latching on your nipple. he sucked hungrily, slowly moving his hips upwards, trying to get some relief to his aching cock. “i d-dont think i can hold it” matt spoke, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your tit.

“and how am i supposed to get back home hm? full of your cum?” you responded and matt whimpered — it was all too much. your breasts, your voice, your hands, your pussy. “can i? please?” he asked.

“you don’t sound that desperate, baby. i think i can keep warming you just like this, right?”

“n-no! please! i wan’ cum for you, please!” you chuckled at his desperation, ruffling his hair and caressing his cheek.

with a simple nod, you allowed matt to let go — and you needed him to do it fast. from afar, you could see his brothers taking slow steps towards the car, silently approaching.

you praised matt as he released his thick spurt inside you, “good boy” whispered over and over along with kisses across his face. matt was completely worn out, panting and trembling.

you removed yourself from him, feeling the sudden emptiness along with the sticky liquid coming from your hole barely being held by your panties as you jumped back to the passenger seat and zipped matt’s pants up.

he had a confused expression, furrowed eyebrow and a pout on his lips, as if asking “why did you leave?”.

his question was answered a second later, when both of his brothers opened the door, entering the vehicle with a loud chatter. “are we interrupting something?” chris playfully asked, noticing the awkwardness between you.

“no, we’re fine! we were just cuddling, matt needed to warmed up” you played along, squeezing matt’s thigh as he gulped and started the car.

little did he know he was gonna have to clean the mess he made.

♡⊹𑄽୧

taglist (drop a 🌸!): @thepubeburgler @submattenthusiast @pearlzier @mattsfavbitchhh @bugeyedgrl @sturncakez @riowritesitall @mattsturnswife @sturnsmia @sturnthepot @mattscoquette @conspiracy-ash @ilovemattsturn @lizzymacdonald06 @blahbel668 @fratbrochrisgf @bagsbyclair0 @sturnobsessedwh0re @cayleeuhithinknott @sturniolo04 @1c3b4th @mattsfavbigtitties @bellassturniolo @sturnsxplr-25 @ivammbb @shadowthesim @slutformatthewsturniolo @stefansring @teeheeomg @dystfopia

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.9 words you've been wanting to hear

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 9/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 15.6k (WHY DO THEY KEEP GETTING LONGER)

a/n. HELLO MY DEAR KICKOFF READERS IVE MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH i am soooo sorry for the wait on this one. this chapter felt very vulnerable to write for some reason lmfao, but i really hope it was worth the wait :''') see you at the bottom!! if there are typos or some things don't make sense i'm so sorry i literally gave up on proofreading this i just ended up raw-doggin it and then posting it

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

an additional author's note. hellooo ellie here. there are some additional warnings/tags for this chapter, i added them to the tags above, so if you know you have any sort of triggers, please refer to them before reading! but if you don't have any and don't want to be spoiled ab anything then you can keep reading lol. thank youu <33

--

The restaurant address that Kai sent you was just a ten minute taxi ride away, save for the five minutes you spent trying to evasively maneuver through the hotel lobby in order to avoid running into people you’re not too keen on seeing right now, a list that stacks up to just one person at this moment.

It’s a Korean barbecue place, it’s been ages since you’ve been to one, probably since they’re way too expensive for any sort of outing you could afford these days, but the crisp sizzling sounds of the grills and the savory air has your mouth watering in a way that makes you indifferent to the cost. Anything to get this churning feeling out of your stomach. 

It’s instantly brought to your attention that Hana’s tipsy off of Soju because she’s slid out of the booth the second you emerge to the tablestide, and she’s onto her feet to pull you into a hug. You hug her back.

“I’m ssssoooooooo glad you’re—hic—here,” she says, voice sounding loud near your ear, but her embrace is surprisingly calming to you.

Her face appears flushed when you pull away, and you give her a smile and a kind hold of her elbow. “I’m happy to be here, sorry for coming late, I just decided I wanted to have dinner with you all.”

Minato is pulling on Hana’s arm to get her to sit down, which she finally agrees to, and you glance to the left side of the table where Kai sat, meticulously turning over pieces of meat on the grill. His eyes are on you, and the seat next to him is empty.

“You look nice,” he says, eyes falling to your lap under the table once you’ve taken a seat next to him.

Your eyes fall to your lap as well. “Oh. Thanks. I wasn’t really trying to look any sort of way, though.” Just faded jeans with a few rips & holes you made yourself, way back in high school when that sort of thing was trendy.

“I know,” he says, smirk heard perfectly through his words, “I like that.”

You ignore him, a fleeting thought passing through your head of how annoyingly forward men are to women they’ve met within a day, just something you’ve noticed recently, and then you’re accepting the glass of Soju that Minato’s poured for you. Quick to tip it back, you feel a burn on your tongue that’s just enough to distract.

“Today’s game was pretty interesting,” Minato speaks up, picking up a few pieces off the grill with his chop sticks and placing them on Hana’s plate first before taking some for himself. You find the gesture sweet. “The first half was intense.”

Hana nods enthusiastically, elbows rested on the tabletop as she waves her hands around in the air. “Uh huh, uh huh, the boys kicked the ball like whoosh. Goes all over the place! Can’t get a—hic—can’t get a single shot. No, I mean me, I can’t get a camera shot. Not them, they can get the shots of goals. The goals of shots? Huh.”

“Alright, you’ve had enough,” Minato grumbles as he drags the glass of Soju that she was nursing away from her. 

Kai lets out a laugh beside you, his knee bumping against yours under the table. “I’ve watched so many of these soccer games for this job, and I’ve still got no damn clue what the rules are.”

You blink down at your empty plate for a second before grabbing the silver chopsticks laid neatly on your napkin, and taking some food from the center of the table. “Really? I’ve only been to a couple, and I feel like I get the gist of it.” Maybe it’s because you had a personal interest, though.

Kai lets out a low whistle next to you. “Okay, you’re a smartass then.”

You give him a sidewards glance. “Maybe you’re just dumb?” 

Your own words startle you a bit. Minato lets a laugh out, but under his breath, while Hana does absolutely nothing to conceal hers. Kai’s eyes just widen. You bite down on a carrot stick.

“Hey, hey, hey, y/n,” Hana chirps, tapping at your wrist, “do you know any of the soccer players? Utahime said you doooo.”

You swallow slowly to buy yourself time, but give a preliminary shake of your head before answering, “no, not really.” You catch a whiff of the cologne on your wrist when you lift your glass to your lips.

“Oh,” she sulks her shoulders and then sinks down into the booth again, her head falling onto Minato’s shoulder. The man stiffens a bit and then there’s a content smile playing at his lips. A hint of a smile develops on your face too at the sight when you put two and two together. What an adorable little crush. It makes you feel sick.

Kai pours you some more Soju the second you drink down the last of it in your glass, and you nod to him as a thanks. “Pretty sure most of my photos from the first half are fucked,” he says, dragging the opening of the bottle against the rim of your glass before pulling it away, “didn’t realize until way later that my aperture was way off.”

You bring the glass to your lips, inhaling before taking a sip. You’re about to speak up about that when Minato beats you to it.

“Are you serious?” he asks, disappointed, like they’re suddenly talking business now. “I better see some good shots. Your side was where most of the action took place. Like that through-pass, tight behind the defensive line, from Nanami Kento to Gojo Satoru before he sunk it a couple mins before the half ended.”

You choke a little on your Soju at the mention of Gojo’s name, and then all three of them are looking at you. You wave a hand in front of your face. “Sorry.” 

Kai grumbles something under his breath and then stuffs a piece of pork belly into his mouth. “Yeah, whatever, man. I’m pretty sure I got some good ones. Don’t worry.”

Dinner goes on like that, where you count the number of times Kai thinks that someone saying something funny across the table is an excuse to press his thigh against yours, but at least the cute way that Hana and Minato seem to inch closer to one another all night is enough to put you at some sort of bitter ease. But that unsettling feeling in your stomach from a couple of hours ago still lingers.

The four of you stand outside the restaurant, heels rocking back and forth in the cold as you all take up the last chance to debrief the day, and then Minato’s glancing at his watch.

“Alright, it’s probably time to head back. We can all share a ride to the hotel, it’s cheaper that way,” Minato says. Hana’s clinging to his sleeve.

“Oh, uh, I was going to stay here. There’s a cool camera shop around the corner. I was gonna check it out,” Kai says, pointing over his shoulder before glancing at you. “Wanna come? I saw they’ve got used film cameras.”

You twiddle with the hotel key card in your pocket. It’s cheap plastic, could break easily with just the right amount of pressure. Like your resolve right now. “Sure.”

He smiles at you.

“Alright, well I need to get this one back to her room,” Minato says with a sigh, pointing to Hana, “so I’ll see you all at the next game?”

You and Kai nod at him and then watch as he walks away with Hana on his arm towards the curb, pulling his phone out to call for a ride.

“Where’s this camera shop at?” you ask Kai once the silence between the two of you stretches out a little too long. 

“It really is just around the corner,” he says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He starts walking down the row of miscellaneous shops and establishments under dim street lighting, and you follow after him before the two of you circle to the adjacent end. A tiny shop in the distance catches your eye. The LED sign above the storefront was blinking sporadically, and read 17th St Camera & Rentals, except half the letters were extinct of any light. Next to it was a 24/7 liquor store.

It’s only when you walk right up to it that you realize the sign dangling behind the glass door that says closed.

“Oh. Bummer,” Kai comments in a flat tone. “I swear it was open before I got to the restaurant.”

You sigh, pulling your phone out to glance at the time. “Yeah, at 8pm? It’s past 10 now.”

He looks at you and taps the camera case still hung at his neck. “That’s fine. I’ve still got a camera to show you, anyways.”

You blink your eyes at him, suddenly feeling a bit exhausted and then glance over your shoulder at the curb of the street to see if Minato & Hana were still there waiting for a ride. You don’t see them anymore. 

A distraction. Wasn’t that what you wanted?

“Yeah, show me.”

Kai seems to know the area better than you, since he walks down the haphazardly lain sheets of concrete across the ground with more confidence than a tourist would. The thought occurs to you that maybe the newsletter photographers have eaten here before during their time in Kyoto.

“What made you start working with the newsletter?” you ask, glancing at him as the two of you walk down further, into what seems like a neighborhood.

He shrugs. “First job I could find out of college. I had a lot of freelance experience, so I’m assuming that’s why they hired me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow. “What about you?”

“I’ve known Utahime for a while. She was impressed with my work.”

“Ahh, connections,” he muses, “smart. That’ll get you far as an artist.”

He suddenly stops walking and peers off to the right, into a darkness that you can’t really make anything out of until you’ve spent a few seconds staring too. He walks in that direction, the loud echoing stomps of his boots on concrete no longer audible once he crosses the threshold onto grass, and you follow behind to what seems like a deserted children’s park. You wish there were more trees in the city. There are a lot here in the countryside, and it makes you homesick for something you’re not even sure of.

A gust of wind brushes through, rattling the set of swings hung on rusty chains. The wood chips underneath your feet feel stale, with no snap to them at all as you follow Kai through the playhouses set up in connected fashion. There are two picnic benches, one looks like it’s been freshly painted with faux effort to improve its image in the line of sight of the street, while the other has red paint peeled back to reveal bronze underneath the moonlight, neglected and tucked behind a few trees. The latter is what he chooses.

He slides into the bench, and he shakes his head when he sees you try to take a seat on the other side before patting at the seat beside him. “It’d be easier for you to take a look at my side.”

He has a point, so you sit next to him instead. Although at this point in the night, you were feigning interest. He zips his camera bag open and you take a better look at the lens. There’s no way it was as cheap as he told you it was.

“There’s no way this was as cheap as you told me it was,” you say.

He laughs, pulling the camera out and handing it to you. “Yeah, maybe the guy cut me a deal since I’ve bought from him before.”

You’re smart enough to put the strap around your neck, even though you’re only holding it a few inches above the table, because a camera like this deserves the care and respect. The material is minimalist and sleek, and it’s heavy in your hands. You click the shutter button, screen coming to life with a few mechanic chirps. “Woah. Is it LCD or OLED?”

“LCD.”

“That’s nice,” you say, “paying for the OLED just seems silly to me.”

“I concur, Canon. Color accuracy is king.”

He shuffles to pull something out of his pocket while you continue to inspect the camera in your hands, and you see him fidget with said thing over the table in the corner of your eye. The flick of something and the light of something makes you turn your head to face him, and he’s pinching the end of a joint to his mouth, lighting the other end.

He gives you a glance when you stare for too long, inhaling from it before pulling it from his mouth. “What?” You can see the smoke leave his mouth in the chill of the air.

“Is that why you chose the secluded bench?”

“I did? Didn’t even notice.”

You blink at him, and he places his elbow on the table to lean closer to you. 

“Do you mind it?” he asks.

“No, not really.”

“Wanna smoke with me?” Two fingers pinching the origin of smoke tilt towards you. “This is my good weed, though, so, I charge by the drag.”

“That’s ridiculous, and no thanks. It doesn’t suit me.”

He lets out a laugh, releasing whatever tension he was building in your space, and the smell of weed is nauseating, but at least it's a new sensation to you.

“You’ve gotta be the only film major on the planet that doesn’t smoke weed. How do you manage?” he asks, the orange flicker of his joint being the only color you can distinctly see under the similarly flickering street lights. 

Your finger traces the rim of the camera lens and is careful to not smudge the glass. “I think I manage just fine.”

“Yeah. With delusion,” he says, coughing, scattering smoke into the air this time instead of a clean blow.

You turn a bit in your seat to face him more, placing the camera down. “You’re extremely blunt.”

His eyebrow raises in amusement and you close your eyes with annoyance at the pun. You brush it off.

“I mean, seriously, I get you’re probably just looking out for me, I guess. I appreciate that. But do you really think my dreams of becoming a filmmaker are that far-fetched?” you ask. There’s a crack to your voice at the end that you didn’t like.

He sighs, setting his wrist down on the table. There’s a long pause where he thinks about what to say. Probably the most you’ve seen him consider what words leave his mouth next. “I was in the same shoes as you, y/n. A couple years ago. I, too, had big dreams of making movies. I was going to apply to film grad school as well, although you’re shooting higher than I was at the time. There’s no way I would’ve gotten into UTokyo’s.” He tilts his head to the side a few times while looking straight off ahead. “I sent scripts in everywhere. To every fucking production company, creative agency, you name it. Never got a callback, not even once. While all my fellow grads were landing decent, respectable jobs.” He brings the joint to his mouth again, but he doesn’t inhale, just bitterly bites it. “I could’ve went on like that, but,” his brow furrows, “I’ve seen my peers torture themselves for years for those dreams of theirs. I swore I wouldn’t be one of them. Because they’re all delusional fucks.” He finally glances at you. “Are you one, too?”

Your shoulders drop a little and your lips purse. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early to say.” 

“It’s never too early to say, if the outcome is all the same,” he tells you. 

You consider his words for a moment. It’s the easy way out. You should consider yourself lucky. Everyone wants a reason, a sign, to turn away from the one thing they’re scared to think about. And here he was, giving that to you on a silver platter.

But if what you wanted was really all that fragile, then it means there’s nothing to show for any of it. For all the effort it took you to get here, and all the effort you’re still willing to give. 

“I’ll keep going until I fail,” you say, “or until I succeed.” It’s not really something you say for him, but for yourself.

He juts his bottom lip out and raises his eyebrows, slowly nodding his head, like he’s impressed by you. But his posture remains lax. “I mean, you’re working this job. You’ve got some sort of plan, at least. It’s not like I’m your parent to tell you what to do and what not to do.” He finally takes another drag, eyebrows pinching together at the same time his fingers pinch close to the burn of his joint to pull it away. “What’s that one saying? You can take a horse to the water, but you can’t make it drink.”

“Wow. You don’t sound a day older than sixty-five.”

He smirks at you. “You’ve got a lot of attitude, Canon. Where does it come from?”

You sink a little in your seat, turning away from him to look down at your hands that were still messing with the features of his camera. “My annoying feelings lately.”

“Feelings about what?”

You consider telling the truth. But you don’t. “My car is in repair and I’m not sure I can afford to pay for the bill, since things keep coming up with it.” It was the thing at the top of your mind at the moment though, for some reason, so partially truthful.

He laughs. “Yeah, cars have a way of doing that when you’re finally getting caught up on bills.”

“At what point does spontaneously picking up random, obscure jobs go from omg I’m so excited to have this opportunity to I just need the money?” you ask.

“You mean you’re not already at that point yet?” he says with a scoff. “Soon, then.”

You sigh.

“Y’know I used to work at this lousy cinema a few miles away from Central,” he tells you, hand tapping the table with a rhythm that makes no sense. “Busted my ass working minimum wage on night shifts because I thought I’d catch a big break in conversation with a director, as if Martin Fucking Scorcese would choose to host his opening night at a random Edwards in Tokyo.” His tapping on the table stops. “Tell me that isn’t pathetic as hell.”

“That’s pathetic as hell.”

“The things you’ll do for money,” he says with a sigh. He sounds detached, like it’s really just a message for you.

You lick your lips, skin feeling dry from the wind that occasionally brushes by, and when you glance at Kai again, there’s a grit to his jaw.

“Should’ve been born as one of those damn college athletes,” he grumbles, sucking in fast through the joint that was close to withering away. “Those fuckers don’t pay tuition.”

The harsh colors of the soccer team’s color-coded practice schedule on your phone are visible when you blink, as well as the exhaustion under Gojo’s eyes in the warm lighting of the hotel lobby earlier tonight. “They work hard.”

He looks at you. “I work hard, too.”

Your shoulders tense. “I’m sure.”

“You work hard as well.” Just to include you.

“Yeah.”

“I mean, you can’t tell me that it’s fair.”

Your mind wanders to some of the people you’ve met on that team, who have been nice to you. You think of Gojo, and the memory of him makes you wish you were with him right now. Despite everything.

“I guess it’s not fair,” is all you say, a tactic to diffuse the conversation, one that you’ve had to use twice with him today. The sound of the swing chains clinking together from the wind in the distance runs a chill down your spine.

You feel heavy in your chest, and you glance at the joint pinched in between Kai’s fingers. He’s not keeping an eye on it, so it’s easy to steal, and you bring it to your lips before sucking in. You instantly let out a few coughs. He’s looking at you with surprise. And you’re still in desperate need of that distraction you’ve been craving.

“How long does it take for it to kick in?” you ask, coughing again and pressing a hand to your chest.

“Super long when you can barely stomach a single drag.”

You try again. He watches you. You swear you feel a buzz this time, and you hand the joint back to him. You feel like you’re having an out-of-body experience.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Good,” you tell him, “really good.”

“That’s gotta be placebo, Canon.”

“No, really,” you sigh it. Even if it was, maybe your mind was just blessing you with a single moment of reprieve. “I feel…really good,” you say with your head in a haze. “Best I’ve…” you don’t know why you have to blink back tears, “best I’ve felt this whole week.”

Kai’s silent next to you. You look over at him, and he’s got a scrutinizing expression on his face. His eyes are glazed. “You seeing anyone right now, Canon?”

It’s the savory question you know has been on the tip of his tongue. Ignorantly asked, as if you would’ve been sitting here with him right now in the dead of night if the answer was yes. 

“No.”

He’s leaning towards you, and you’re dazed and also sleepy. His face is close now, there’s an urge to giggle, which means there’s no way this is all just placebo, and when his lips dip towards yours, you’re conscious enough to push him away by a weakly fisted hand pressed to his collarbone.

“Oh. I. Um,” you stutter.

“What?” he asks, eyebrow raised, still close to you.

“No. No thanks.” Because it felt wrong. 

He fully pulls away from you, and runs a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving him. “Alright.”

You’re breathing faster now, surroundings feeling vague, like you’re in sweltering heat but the air only bites cold.

You stand up suddenly. “I…I want to go back.”

“Go back where?”

“To the hotel. To my room.” You pause. “I mean, by myself. Not with you. We can share a ride, though.”

He stands up too, hands reaching for you, gripping the straps of his camera still hung around your neck and he pulls it off to place it back into the case. You feel like you’ve lost favor with him somehow. “Okay. Sure.” 

“But not with you.” You felt the need to clarify again.

“I get it, Canon. It’s fine.”

—

“Maybe you just need to fuck him aggressively without mercy.”

“I beg your finest pardon?”

You’re sitting in a booth inside this streetside KFC with Mina sitting across the table, waving a fry around in the air, and with Nobara next to you as she tries to open a packet of ketchup with her teeth. The hangout the three of you have been hyping up all week, just to be sat in the same place you always go to. You were about to take a bite out of your sandwich, but you set it back down on your tray.

Mina points the fry at you and shrugs. “I’m saying. Maybe you’re having such a hard time getting over Gojo because you got so close to fucking him in that bathroom, but you didn’t, and now you’re in, like, this constant state of edging.” She bites down on the fry. “The clit knows what the heart doesn’t.”

“Your theories never fail to amaze me,” you mumble, sinking further into the booth. 

“Perhaps it’ll take the edge off.” Mina sucks through the straw of her Diet coke. Nobara finally succeeds in opening her packet of ketchup.

“I doubt it. Besides, I technically already gave him an invitation to,” you say, fingers rubbing at your eye with a swipe as you wince from the memory, “and he rejected me, so, still swimming in the self hatred from that one.”

Mina hums. “There’s no way he’s not foaming at the mouth for it, y/n. Men never let a meal they were craving go unfinished,” she states, dramatically stabbing a chicken nugget with a fork.

“What kind of pigs do you guys associate yourselves with?” Nobara asks. She’s a lesbian, by the way.

“I raise another question. Why are we talking about this in a public restaurant?” you offer.

“Listen, babes,” Mina continues, like your words fall on deaf ears because she’s got some point to make, “it’ll either poof. Make your feelings go away like the drop of a hat because you find out he’s a bad lay. Or it’ll be so good that you realize you’re never getting over him and you’ll be thinking of his dick instead of your husband’s on your wedding night.”

“We’re. In. A. Public. Restaurant.”

Mina steals a biscuit from your tray. “If it ends up being the first outcome, then the whole thing was my idea. If it’s the second…then just know that Nobara has steered you wrong.”

“Why the hell do you have to drag me into this?” Nobara asks.

You’re about to take a bite from your sandwich again when you’re interrupted by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. You pull it out and glance at the caller ID, then let out a sigh.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you mumble, slipping out of the booth and towards the restaurant’s exit, pushing the tense door open with a gust of fresh air brushed through you.

“Hello?” It’s the car repair man. “Really? I thought you said it was fixed.” Apparently something else came up. “Okay…how much longer will it be in repair?” Much longer than you had thought. “And how much will it cost?” Much more expensive than you had thought. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, really, I feel as though every time I’m on the line with you all, I have to wait longer to get my car back, and the bill just racks up higher.” They’re trying their best. “I know. Is it necessary to fix in order to drive, though?” State laws require it. “Okay…thanks for the update.” And then you hang up without another word, and with all the frustration in the world.

You head back inside and grumble about your car woes to Mina and Nobara, who try their best to respond with interest.

“Why can’t your insurance cover it?” Mina asks.

“Apparently they can’t claim it’s because of those rocks I drove over,” you sigh, “since it looks like it’s been a problem for longer than that.”

“Can you afford it?” Nobara asks.

“Not really,” you say. “I’ll just have to postpone having my car for a bit.”

You sigh with a glance out the window of this fine dining establishment, into the blue skies just beyond, head drowning out the voices of Mina and Nobara as they continue to grill you about all sorts of questions that you don’t have the energy to answer right now. You had another student loan payment to make once you got home today, and just the thought of it makes your heart drop a little. And you realize you just can’t afford to be picky about your financial situation anymore.

—

“Thanks for helping me out with this,” you say, footsteps over familiar grassy hills as you head towards the UTokyo’s practice field, your digital Canon EOS hanging from your neck. 

“Sure,” Kai says as he keeps pace next to you, “why the sudden mission, though?”

You’re gazing off straight ahead, a nervous pit in your stomach since it’s been a while since you’ve walked across this landscape towards the field. 

“I just feel like I need to diversify my income somehow,” you sigh, the buzzwords leaving a bitter taste in your mouth as you say them but it was the reality of your situation, “to make ends meet. When you mentioned freelance work during our conversation last week, it made me think it’s time for me to pick that up too.”

Kai hums. “Yeah, it’s a good plan. I’ll try to show you what I know.”

Once you’ve made it to the top of that hill, the one that oversees the field, your eyes instantly scan the field for familiar silhouettes, and your breath catches in your throat when you spot Gojo passively kicking a ball back and forth between one of his teammates for warm-ups.

It’s the second time you’ve seen him since that argument the two of you had in the hotel lobby, the first being at the post-game conference in which you did everything in your power to swiftly avoid him, and you plan on keeping that up. There’s also an urge to run away, but you’re starting to realize that’s not much of an option anymore.

“Honestly, you don’t really need to worry too much about shutter speed with freelance like you do for shooting sports,” Kai is mumbling next to you as he messes with the settings on his camera, the two of you making your way down the hill towards the field, and you’re not really listening because your eyes are on Gojo, who’s yelling something across the field to his teammates with a look of concentration on his face.

“Uh huh, I see,” you say. You see Kai glance at you in his periphery.

“You again!” you hear a familiar harsh voice call out, and you turn on your heel to face Coach Yaga who’s standing a few feet away in his custom UTokyo tracksuit with his arms crossed against his chest. “Why are you on my field?”

You hold your breath for a second. “Hi, Coach Yaga, so sorry, but I’m just here to take some more photos.”

He lets out one of his hmphs, unrelenting. “You’re a distraction. Get off my field.”

“D-Distraction?”

“Coach!” Suddenly, Geto’s in your line of sight as he emerges with a light jog up to your side. “You should really be nicer to our photographers, they give us a lot of publicity for our games. And publicity means funding.”

Coach Yaga narrows his eyes. “I need all my players focused right now. Even during practice.” He gives you a disapproving glance and you’re still confused, but also weirdly angered.

“Excuse me, Coach Yaga, but last time I checked, this field is technically open for all students. And I’m a student,” you say to him, crossing your arms across your chest now. “So, I can be here if I want.”

You have no idea if that’s true at all, but sometimes you’ve just gotta fake it ‘til you make it.

Coach Yaga grumbles something and then waves his hands in the air. “Fine! I’ve no bandwidth to argue about this anymore! Just don’t distract my players.”

You’re shocked that it worked, and Geto nudges you with an elbow to correct your expression so that Coach Yaga doesn’t catch on to the bullshit you just spewed. 

“Are you here to take some photos?” Geto asks, facing you. He’s got his hands on his hips, breathing slightly fast, some of his hair falling onto his forehead. 

“Yeah, I am, just for practice though. I’m here with—” you glance at Kai, who’s standing with his fists shoved into his pockets, “Kai. He’s also with the newsletter.”

There’s a moment where Geto studies the two of you for a second before speaking. “I know,” he says, extending his hand out for Kai to shake, which he does, “I think I’ve seen you around. Not sure if we’ve formally met, but it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise.” Kai’s hand is then shoved back into his pocket.

You feel awkward suddenly, and then quickly say something to Geto about how he should probably get back to practice, which he agrees to, and then you’re standing at the chalk sideline with Kai as he shows you the ins and outs about digital photography.

“Have you tried shooting in burst mode?” he asks, switching the feature on your camera and then handing it back to you. You sling the strap around your neck.

“Hm…” you start, pointing your camera across the expanse of the field to multiple areas. The trees off into the distance, the goal posts, Coach Yaga’s yapping Pomeranian. “Not really…” The grass beneath your feet, the sky above your head, and then blurrily focused before settling on Gojo who stood in the distance straight ahead.

You see through your viewfinder that he’s caught sight of you too, a look of surprise on his face seen only by the level of zoom, and you glance up from the screen to make eye contact with him in reality. He’s fully staring at you, and you can barely see the way his expression relaxes from that one of athletic concentration to something wistful and strange that you’ve had a hard time reading lately.

“Canon? Are you even listening?”

“Huh?” you snap out of it and look at Kai. “Sorry. Could you repeat that?” You quickly glance toward Gojo again, and his line of sight points towards Kai now.

“I was asking if you’ve tried panning before,” he says, reaching for your camera, pulling it towards him, but the strap around your neck means you’re pulled closer to him too. 

“Satoru!” Coach Yaga yells in the distance. “Eyes on the ball!” 

“Just got to set your camera to manual mode first,” Kai mutters, confusion in his voice. “Where the fuck is it?” He’s turning your camera in his hands, which only has you stumbling with another small step towards him, your chest pressed flush to his arm, and he looks down at you for a brief second with a smirk on his face.

You hear the sound of a ball being kicked on the field, followed by the shout of one of the players.

“Ah, here, found it,” Kai says, handing your camera back to you, and just as you’re about to say thanks and you hold your camera up, you’re hit straight in the face by a flying object and fall backwards onto the grass with a painful thud.

What the fuck?

Where are you?

Who are you?

Okay, that’s dramatic, it wasn’t that bad.

There’s shouting in the distance as you hold your head with a groan, eyes shut tight with images of your life flashing behind your eyelids, and when you open your eyes again from where you’re sat up on the grass, you’re surrounded by soccer players.

Gojo’s suddenly in your line of sight, knelt down beside you and he’s holding your shoulders, trying to get you to look at him but you’re still blinking away the stars you’re seeing. “Fuck, y/n, are you okay?” he asks, and you register the concern on his face.

“Dude,” one of his teammates kicks the heel of his cleat, “where the fuck were you looking? It was clear as day I was tryna pass to you.”

Gojo grumbles something to him, his brow furrowed, and he’s lowering his head to try to make eye-level contact with you but you’re still holding your head with a wince.

“Oh shit,” Kai comments, “she’s bleeding.”

You pull your hand from your face to glance down at the wetness that you feel, and bright red color stains the tips of your fingers.

The next thing you register is Gojo picking you up off the hard grassy ground into his arms, and starts carrying you away down the field.

“W-What the hell are you doing?” you ask, his pacing across the grass is fast and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to keep from getting dizzy.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says, voice strained in his throat, and you’ve never seen him look so worried before. 

“The hospital?! Please don’t, I don’t have health insurance right now.” His face is so close and you’re distracted from the pain of your headache.

“You’re bleeding on the face, I’m taking you whether you like it or not,” he grumbles.

You dig your nails into his shoulder through the nylon of his shirt, and he hisses from the pain before stopping in his tracks. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, Satoru, I just need a fucking bandaid.”

“You could have a concussion.”

“A concussion?!” You kick your feet for him to let you down but his grip on you only tightens. “You’re being ridiculous. Let me go, or I’ll bite you.”

He scoffs at that and continues walking forward. “You’re gonna bite me? That’s the most threatening thing you could come up with?”

“I’m being so dead serious, Gojo Satoru. No hospital.”

He grumbles something under his breath at your use of his full government name, and then says “fine” but he’s still walking down the grass until his cleats begin to tap on concrete, and then on what sounds like tile as he carries you into a building a few yards from the field.

He seats you on a cold counter, your hand gripping the faucet of a sink, and you finally take a comprehensive look at your surroundings. light blue, faint scent of chlorine in the air

“Is this…a locker room? The men's locker room?”

He sighs, bending his knees a bit to look at your face closely. You flinch when his hand reaches out, and he pauses, but you relax slightly and then he rubs his thumb over your cheek. You feel the smear of a droplet of blood. “Yes. I need running water.” He turns the faucet of the sink on to run his thumb under.

“For what?” you ask. His thumb is running over your cheek again.

“To take care of this cut.” He disappears behind a tile wall for a moment. You can hear metal clanking, probably of a locker opening and closing, and he re-emerges with a first-aid kit.

You slide your butt across the counter to the edge, about to hop off and make a run for it when he grabs your hips and puts you back into place. “Don’t even think about it,” he grumbles. He leans forward, grips you strongly, and you see that he’s still breathing heavily from practice, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and you can practically taste the salt on his neck. 

You press your shin to the front of his thigh, desperate to put some space between the two of you. “I don’t wanna be in here. Men are scary.”

“Well I can’t take you into the women’s locker room,” he says, ripping the packet of an antiseptic wipe open with his teeth, “I’d get registered as a sex offender.”

You attempt at an escape again, and he’s quick to get his hands on you to stop it.

“Quit manhandling me, or I’ll scream,” you threaten through gritted teeth, because you’re still mad at him. For everything.

“Go ahead,” he says, using his knee to spread your legs apart, then finds a place to stand between your thighs to get closer to you. “I’ve got a lot of ways I could shut you up.”

You blink at him, breath catching in your throat, and the expression on his face tells you he’s not interested in dealing with your stubbornness anymore.

“Just hold still,” he grumbles, placing the packet down on your thigh and then stepping off to the side to wash his hands under the sink.

“What exactly happened?” you ask, watching him dry his hands off with a few paper towels. One moment, Kai was trying to explain good digital photography to you, and the next you were dizzy from being knocked back onto the ground.

“You got hit by a soccer ball.”

“I know, but how?” You remember your camera hit your face from the impact too, and now you’re worried about it.

“I…wasn’t paying attention when my teammate passed it,” he admits with a sigh, finding his place in front of you again, the knuckles of his clean hand brushing across your cheek, caressing. Your expression softens slightly. He uses a hand spread across the small of your back to push you forward to him, then he gently passes the wipe over your wound.

“Oh okay so, you failed to protect me from a flying soccer ball.” 

He pulls his hand from you to read the lettering on the back of the packet. “I’m patching you up now, aren’t I?” he says, annoyed. “…oh fuck, I was supposed to go in with water first.”

“So glad to be in such good hands right now.” 

He gives you a pointed look, but you ignore it and turn your torso to see your reflection in the mirror for the first time. You had a small wound on your cheek, right over the bone, with some bleeding and it’s wider than it is deep. But when you look at Gojo again, who’s putting some ointment onto a Q-tip now, the look of guilt and worry on his face makes you feel satisfied for some reason, and you wanted to make it worse.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, brow furrowed, applying the cold gel to your cheek.

“Mhm. A lot.” Not really, no.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he sighs, head dipping towards you slightly to get a better look, “can you feel this?”

“Ahh, yeah. Ouch. So much.” Barely.

His other hand is placed flat on the counter next to where you’re sitting, and you allow it when his thumb starts to run soothing circles over your hip.

“Hmm…” you start, wide eyes looking up at him as he seems to lean closer and closer to you with every word that leaves your lips, “I really wonder if it’ll leave a scar.”

He looks tortured. His hand that was maneuvering the Q-tip in his hands drops to the counter now, and he brings his other one to your face, cupping your cheek. His eyes dart from the wound, thumb pressing at the plush of your cheek, and this time, it hurts a little so you wince. His expression is tense, some sort of inner turmoil you could read across his forehead, and then his jaw hardens.

“Who was that guy you were talking to earlier?”

You blink a few, then tilt your head slightly. You feel like you’re on a game show, where there’s four options and only one right answer. New boytoy, gay best friend, fuck buddy, or— “He’s my coworker.”

“That’s it?”

“Mhm.”

“Has he tried anything funny with you?” 

You almost roll your eyes. “No, dad, he hasn’t.”

“Woah. Say that again but make it daddy.”

“Hey just a quick question for you. Where do you get the audacity?”

His bent index finger finds a place under your chin, tilting your head up so you’re forced to look at him. “It’s your fault, really. I can’t help it sometimes,” he says, voice lower now. You’re squirming a little, wanting to push him away but his lips get close to your cheek, brushing near your wound, like he wants to make it all better somehow. “I really am sorry,” he whispers, near your ear. There’s a whimper you have to stifle in your throat. He pulls aways just enough to where he can look into your eyes. “A cut…” he starts, thumb now passing over your bottom lip, “on your pretty face.” He sighs. You shouldn’t, but when he prods, you tuck his thumb under your front teeth and your tongue presses slightly against the padded skin of it. He looks like he’s being driven to insanity, and his other hand has no shame at all in pulling you towards him, to seat you at the edge of the counter, and you miss the texture of his thumb on your tongue when he pulls it from your mouth. But it’s so he can dip his head down to kiss you instead.

Of course the sensation of his lips on yours only lasts for a second, because the universe really fucking hates (or loves?) you, so the loud clanking of a metal water bottle against tile interrupts with harsh reverberation throughout the locker room walls, and he pulls away from you when you jump at the sound.

You both turn your heads towards the origin, located at the curved end of the entryway hall, and one of Gojo’s teammates is standing there with his duffle bag slung around his neck and hanging heavily to his thigh, his water bottle clutched in his hand. He blinks at the two of you.

Oh. It’s the one you kissed at that party a few weeks ago.

“What—…Why is there a—” his teammate starts, panicked, turning his head to double check the sign on the locker room wall as if he’s hallucinating, and when his eyes land on you again, they widen with recognition. His gaze shifts, and his chin tips down at the sight of Gojo’s irritated side eye from where he was still all up in your personal space. “…you know what. Nevermind.”

His teammate’s eyes are on you again, and you give him a shy little wave, just a fluttering of your fingers in the air paired with a small smile, legs swinging back and forth under the counter. He lets out an amused scoff from the entryway, lifting his hand to return the gesture, some cheeky grin on his face as he then scratches the back of his head before turning on his heel to leave the locker room, out of sight. You let out a sigh, hand dropping to your lap, and you don’t need to look at Gojo to tell that he’s staring at you with disbelief.

“What the fuck was that—”

“You,” you interrupt him, finger jabbing at the center of his chest, “have seriously got a lot of fucking nerve,” you hop off the counter, “to not only allow a soccer ball to sock me in the face,” he’s taking a step back with every harsh jab of your finger, “but to also hold me hostage in a mens’ locker room,” his back is pressed up against cold tile wall now while he just looks down at you with wide eyes and something akin to fear, “and then, oh my god, the audacity to kiss me?”

“I—”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” you yell, which shuts him up. “You really are just a fucking player.”

He’s stiff, not wanting to catch a punishment from you right now.

“But it doesn’t matter,” you grumble, still drilling your finger into his ribcage with the intent to cause pain. You didn’t need to be this close, but his body is warm, probably due to the blood pumping from practice, and it feels nice to be pressed up against. “Because I don’t have feelings for you anymore, so just fucking get over yourself.” It was a lie if you’ve ever told one, but you wanted to believe it so much that it could come off as the truth.

His eyes narrow down at you, eyebrows flattening. “You don’t have feelings for me anymore?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You roll your eyes. “Why? Because you want me to keep suffering?”

He grabs your hips, then makes a motion that is evident of his desire to pull you flush to him, but he stops himself. There’s a moment where he just takes a few deep breaths and looks at you with a hardened expression, then a split second where his eyes fall to that little cut on your cheek, and every single feature of his face softens, and then he lets you go.

You take a small step back, breathing heavily of your own, and you feel the ghost sensation of his fingertips wrapped around your hips. It makes you feel dizzy, and your thoughts are a mess. 

He sighs. “Sorry. For the soccer ball, and this locker room. But I’m not really sorry for kissing you, and if that makes me a jerk, then so be it.”

Your heart is beating fast. “You are a jerk, Satoru,” you say. He doesn’t like you, he doesn’t want you. A mantra played over and over in your head that you’ve started to hear it at night. “A real fucking jerk.” And you leave him standing there in a way that feels like the hundredth time.

—

2:34pm kaito (work): yo

2:34pm kaito (work): i had my guy look at your camera

2:35pm kaito (work): it’s pretty fucked up

2:37pm you: :( oh okay isee. does he have an estimate for the fix? the lens is okay though right?

2:39pm kaito (work): yeah lens is fine, you should really count your blessings on that. 

2:40pm kaito (work): but nah, fix would be around the same as the cost of it, so you’re better off getting a new one

2:42pm you: i don’t have thousands of yen laying around unfortunately. my car bill has sucked me dry

2:44pm kaito (work): well let me check with him. maybe he can hook you up with a good deal on a used one

2:45pm kaito (work): i got a 50% off on one of my canon cameras i bought from him a few years back. maybe he’s still got some like that

2:46pm you: yes could you check with him please? thanks so much, really

2:48pm kaito (work): sure. although i think the guy that kicked the ball to your face should be paying for your camera replacement

2:51pm you: they were just practicing. it’s their field

2:56pm kaito (work): alright. btw, you free tonight?

You blink at your phone screen from where you were sprawled across your bed. Before you have a chance to type out a response, your phone lights up with a phone call from kaito (work). You accept the call.

“Oh, hi,” you say.

“Hey, are you free tonight?”

“Oh uhh, I was just about to check my schedule.” You shake your head at your inability to come up with an excuse on the spot.

“Okay,” he says on the other line. You hear the sounds of cars honking in the distance. “Well let me know. I just left my camera guy’s shop, and he was telling me about how one of his friends does visuals for a short-film director, and that the director is looking for an assistant.” Kai grumbles something about someone he walked past being rude. “I think the director’s agency is Verve Films, so.”

You sit up in bed, eyes wide at the mention of the name. “Oh, oh wow. That’s insane.”

“Yup,” he says, “anyways, apparently the director is busy as fuck, so he left the hiring process up to my camera guy’s friend. I told him I knew someone that might be interested. Are you?”

You take a deep breath in and out. “Yeah, I am. Most of my experience on my resume lines up with short-film, so I’d be able to—”

“Alright great,” he interrupts, “so we can hold the interview tonight.”

“We?” you ask.

“Well yeah, me, my camera guy, the hiring guy. Maybe go for drinks or something.”

Your brow furrows. “That hardly sounds like an interview.”

Kai sighs. “Well, it’s not an interview for a desk job or something. It’s more of like—well, like building connections. I know you know all about that, since Utahime got you the newsletter job.”

Well, yes. She put a word in for you, which helped get the interview, but you still went against qualified applicants. “I guess.”

“It’ll be like that. Most opportunities you’ll get if you still want to pursue filmmaking are going to be like that,” he tells you, “if it feels informal, it means you’re doing it right. You might not think so now because you’re still in school, where they practically serve opportunities to students on platters, but it’s going to be different in the real world.”

You lay your head back onto the pillow, feeling like you’re receiving a lecture you didn’t ask for, and your first instinct is to pretend that you know better than he does. But when you think about all the stress recently, all of the not knowing, and the unsure, you question if you should start leaning into the advice of the people around you, and start to accept this career path for what it’s known to be. Unruly, unconventional, and a lot of times, unfair. 

“I see. Well, can I think about it? Tonight is too soon, I’d need time to research the director, put a portfolio together, and also do some interview prep,” you say, pulling your phone from your ear to glance at the time.

“Well, tonight’s the only night that works since their team’s shooting abroad for the weekend and they leave tomorrow morning,” he says.

You purse your lips together.

“But also,” Kai says, “it’s the nice thing to do, y’know, since my camera guy is taking the time to look at your camera for free, you could at least help his friend out. By the way, he just texted me, he does have some used Canons available at discount.”

You close your eyes for a second, just trying to process this conversation right now. Kai was speaking too fast, hardly enough time for you to even think.

“So do you want to do the interview tonight?”

“Yes, sure. Okay. Just— just send me the details. I’ll be there,” you say.

“Alright cool, will do.” 

You say bye, and then he hangs up.

A few hours pass by, where you spend some time putting together a flash drive of a couple of your best short films you’ve worked on in the past with other directors, as well as a portfolio of some recently developed film photography. The last thing to do was grab your emergency stash of print outs of your resume, and then you stuff it all into a folder before glancing at the mirror to take in your reflection. It felt extremely weird to show up to a job interview in something as casual as what you were wearing right now, but Kai insisted to not wear anything business. But at least you opted for jeans that don’t have any DIY holes in them.

Your face is glued to the navigation on your phone screen the second you get out of the taxi, and you walk down the bustling nightlife streets of Tokyo to get to this bar that Kai sent you the address of. But just as you’re about to turn the corner to your destination down the bar strip, you bump into someone’s chest due to lack of paying any proper attention.

“Ah— I’m so sorry,” you say, your grip on your phone tightening when you realize it was about to get knocked out of your hand, and then you look up to see a familiar face.

“Oh!” Geto exclaims from where he’s standing right in front of you, “You’re everywhere, y/n. What are you doing here?”

You open your mouth to speak, hesitate for a second, and then continue. “I’m here to…get drinks with some of my friends.”

He gives you a smile. “That’s nice. I am too.” He points over his shoulder to behind him. “Nanami got into his MBA program earlier this week, so, Satoru, Choso and I are buying him a few rounds. Or possibly a million. The plan is to incapacitate him as punishment for giving up on playing in the national league with us.”

You humor him with a laugh. “That’s sweet. Or not? Well anyway, tell him I said congrats.” Your heart starts to beat a little faster, because from the direction Geto came from, it meant Gojo was likely just around the corner somewhere. “Where are you heading to now?”

“We’re bar hopping, and I think I forgot my phone at the last one we went to over there,” he says, pointing across the street. “So I’m going to go look for it.” 

“Oh alright,” you say. “Good luck with that. I’m going to go find my, uh, my friends.”

Geto tilts his head at you and had a slightly more serious expression on his face, glancing at the folder in your hands. “Thanks. And stay safe.” 

You nod at him and then walk past him to round the corner onto the street that had groups of people loitering in front of restaurants, bars and all sorts of establishments as they wait in the cold to get inside or be seated. You recognize the name on one of the signs hanging as the one Kai sent you in his message, and when you’re a few feet away from it, you spot Kai. He’s wearing his typical street photographer wear, with a red flannel over a gray shirt and pants that are possibly a size too big for him, but that’s likely the style he was going for. He’s standing with two other people.

“Hey,” you greet Kai first, who has a pleasant look on his expression before he greets you back and gestures to the two people he was with.

“Yo, this is Junichi, my camera guy,” he says. “Don’t bother shaking his hand, he’s a germaphobe. Gotta keep ‘em clean for the electronics.”

“Oh,” you say. Junichi is a big man, broad shoulders and thick muscles. His neck is almost as thick as his bicep, and he has no hair on his head. His arms are crossed. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for taking a look at my camera.”

He nods at you in acknowledgment. “Sure thing. Pretty Boy here says you want to buy one of my used Canons. I don’t refurbish them, so you’d better know how.”

Kai sighs, nudging Junichi a little with a fist. “Relax, dude, we can talk about that later. Also, stop calling me that.”

Your eyes flicker to the right, where another man stood, who you assume was Junichi’s friend and this Verve Films director’s visual effects specialist. He’s similar in stature to Kai, with that casual artist look, and he has a scuffle of facial hair littering his jaw in less of an intentional fashion but rather a five-o-clock shadow fashion. You vaguely register the scent of weed, familiar to the one that lingers in the photo lab on campus after class hours. He reaches his hand out to you first.

“Hi, I’m Ren. I work in visual effects for director Akira Ko at Verve.”

Your eyes widen as you shake his hand.  “That’s amazing. I’ve studied a lot of his contemporary works, I’d love to learn more about his process.”

Ren lets a fast exhale out through his nose. “Yeah, you’ll learn a lot under him.” He pauses to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Most of his assistants always do.”

“We’ve been waiting for too damn long,” Kai interjects before you could ask any questions about the assistant position, and he glances at his watch, “and there’s still a lot of people ahead of us.”

You glance around to the small groups of people gathered in front of this bar on a lively Friday night, eyes jumping from one area to the next, until a familiar silhouette catches your eye.

You see Gojo standing with Nanami and Choso a few strides away, near the lamppost. He’s mostly turned away from you, Nanami nudging his arm annoyed at something he said, and the sound of his laughter in the air makes your heart feel like it’s at stray. Like that was where you were supposed to be right now, not here.

You watch him from the distance as he sighs, shrugging his shoulders up and down slightly before crossing his arms when Choso gestures towards the entrance of the bar, and so he looks in that direction too. He’s frowning slightly and he brushes some of the hair fallen over his forehead away from his eyes, in that boyish way that makes your heart skip a beat, and you know he’s just doing it to see a little bit better, but it makes you want to cry. 

Geto walks up to them and rejoins their little circle, and holds his phone up in the air, and then there’s the melody of their voices bouncing off one another’s again. Geto rests his elbow up onto Gojo’s shoulder, leaning in a bit closer to tell him something, and when Gojo hears it, you see his entire body tense before his wide eyes are searching his surroundings, until those eyes land on you.

Your breath catches, and you hold his eye contact for only a moment before you look away, because it almost felt like too much to bear.

“What’s that folder in your hand?” Ren asks you, and you turn completely to face him so you can’t see Gojo in your periphery at all anymore.

“I just brought some of my work, for your—er, I guess Mr. Ko’s—reference if he’d like to see it after today’s…interview,” you say. “There’s a flashdrive, too.”

Ren has an amused look on his face and he shoves Kai’s shoulder with his palm. “Dude, you didn’t tell her?”

Kai shakes his head. “Tell her what?”

“Ohh, I see how it is,” Ren muses.

“What?” Kai asks, starting to sound annoyed.

Ren tips his chin up slightly to study Kai’s face, and then his look of amusement dissipates into one of understanding. “Nothing.”

“Tell me what?” you prod.

“Just that you didn’t really need to bring all of that with you,” he says. “Sorry for the trouble.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, but if you could still give it to him—”

“I’m surprised Kai suggested someone when I asked if he knew anyone,” Junichi jumps in, “I’m used to him grumbling on and on about how shit the work is in filmmaking. Would’ve thought he’d convinced you to look the other way by now.”

You blink at the gruff man, then look at Kai, and he’s just staring down at the dirt of his shoes. “Well, we had a conversation about it. But I’m pretty set on what I want to do,” you say.

Kai lets out a scoff. “Yeah, I don’t really know how else to warn you about the shit show you’re in for, but if you want to be in debt to grad school for the next couple decades of your life, then it’s up to you.”

“Hey, jackass, try to be a bit nicer,” Ren speaks up. “She’s got some goals. Big fuckin’ deal.” He turns to you. “Although, he’s got a point sweetheart, school’s not going to get you anywhere in this industry.”

You frown. “A lot of directors I look up to went through graduate schooling. Most, I would say. I don’t understand where this rhetoric is coming from.”

“It’s coming from real people with real experience,” Ren says, and you dislike the way he takes a step closer to you to reiterate his point, “honestly, you should save yourself some time and give up on applying. It’s not worth it.”

“I’ve already put my application together,” you say, brow furrowing slightly, “I’ve asked professors for my references, spent the past four years working on my profile—” 

“But working under a director, I mean really getting to work under one, beats all of that. Which is why you’re here, right?” Ren asks, but it’s not curious, it’s testing.

You feel a sheen of sweat build at your forehead, even in this cold, and you clench your hand into a fist once, twice, thrice. You’re breathing fast, and the three sets of eyes that are staring so scrutinizingly into your soul right now have you faltering, like if they took another step forward, tried to intrude what you thought you knew one more time, you’d fall backwards over the cliff.

Suddenly, a hand wraps around your upper arm, and when you turn your head to the left, you see Gojo standing there.

“Hey,” he says to you, sparing one single sidewards glare towards Kai, who immediately averts the eye contact, before Gojo’s eyes are on you again, “can I talk to you for a second?”

You look at the three men in your circle, who suddenly adopt skittish body postures, and Gojo doesn’t really wait longer than a few seconds before he’s pulling you away from them over towards the edge of the curb towards the street.

“What?” you ask once he lets go of your arm.

“What are you doing here with those guys?” he asks.

“I’m—…why does it matter to you?” you ask.

“It matters to me because of the fucking absurd conversation I just overheard,” he says, “now answer me.”

His tone annoys you, and you cross your arms. “Are you eavesdropping?”

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” he says, taking a step forward to you, “who are those guys, and why are you here with them?”

You blink at him, furrowed brows relaxing slightly as you drop your crossed arms to your side, and you stare straight ahead at the blankness of the white t-shirt he’s wearing, as your mind runs blank to his question. Why were you here with them? Was it because you had no other plans? Was it because the opportunity sounded too good to be true, and you just had to see for yourself? Was it because you’ve been unable to sleep at night from all the stress, the financial worries, the rejection, and you just want to finally feel like you’ve done one good thing for yourself? To feel like you’re at least making one step in the right direction, no matter the cost?

“I’m here for a job interview,” you say to him. Your tone is flat, and you feel numb.

“A job interview?” he asks, with just about as much incredulity you would’ve expected to hear from him at that answer, “At a bar? How does that make any sense?”

“It…” you start, “sounded fine.”

“It sounds shady as fuck.”

“This doesn’t concern you, okay? I’m—…I’m just trying to make my goals work for me, Satoru, and I really don’t expect you to understand.”

“Why wouldn’t I understand?” he asks. There’s confusion in his voice, and maybe even a little bit of hurt.

“Because you can’t even understand how unfair and painful it is for me that you keep—” you have to purse your lips together briefly to fight back the knot in your throat, “…that you keep interfering with my life everywhere I go.”

His expression softens, and he silently stands in front of you for a moment. His eyes dart across your face, and then he reaches out to grab your hand. “Listen, if you still want to get drinks tonight, then just get drinks with us. But don’t hang out with those guys. They’re bad news, especially the dude with the flannel, and I don’t think you’re in a good place right now to see that.”

Your eyes see white fury at that, and you all but snap. Because the irony of this whole situation, is that you’re not in a good place right now because of him. Because of all the pain that he’s put you through, for promising to stay away but then always being near, for saying he doesn’t want you but then acting like he does. 

“You know what I think, Satoru?” you ask through gritted teeth, yanking your hand from his grasp.

He’s looking at you, studying. “What?”

You take a step forward, threateningly, and he takes a step back so that he steps off the curb and onto the road, and you’re at eye-level with him now. “I think that you’re jealous,” you say, eyes glaring daggers into his.

He blinks at you, almost dumbfounded for a moment before he says “what?”

“You’re just fucking jealous that I seem to be moving on after you rejected me, because for some weird reason, you think it’s okay to not want me, and yet not want me to be with anyone else,” you say, practically hissing the words. “You don’t like seeing me with any guys other than you? You don’t want to believe me when I say that I’m over you? You’re not sorry for kissing me? Even after knowing,” you take a pause to breathe, because you feel like you can’t, “even after knowing that I like you,” eyes blinking fast because you don’t want him to see you cry right now, “you know that I like you so fucking much, and that it’s hurtful, and that it’s wrong— and even after all of that, you act the same, and still won’t promise me any commitment of your own.”

He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t read, but you’ve lost all interest in trying to understand it anymore.

“You don’t want me hanging out with them?” you repeat after him, “I’m not listening to that. Because it’s possessive. And it’s wrong.”

At the mention of them, Gojo clenches his jaw. “That has nothing to do with you and me, right now. What they’re trying to convince you of doesn’t make any sense, and it won’t help you achieve your dreams either, y/n.”

“You don’t know anything about my dreams, Satoru,” you say, just to hurt him. But you think about the sincere expression on his face the first time you met him when you told him that you wanted his help with your assignment. You think about the playful nudge of his elbow that night he stayed with you on the curb, and told you that you just had to try to put yourself out there, because you couldn’t accomplish anything without facing your fears. You think about how he’s always the first to like every single one of the slideshows you post of your pictures on Instagram. You think about the adoration in his eyes, reflected off the moonlight through the hotel window, when you told him about a little cottage on the countryside, one you’ve always wanted, and those eyes told you that he was really rooting for you. “You don’t know. Because you—” there’s an echo of words in your head. Someone else’s words, not yours, “Because you’re a college athlete. And—” you let out an exhale, “and you don’t pay tuition.”

His brow furrows. There’s a beat of silence as his confusion settles in. “What?”

“You were born blessed with talent, and you’re popular, and people adore you, and you don’t have to worry about internships, or jumping from job to job just to make something of yourself,” you say, picturing your life in your head along with all the strife, “or about all of the sinking debt, and the worry, and the— and the car repair bills,” you say, almost with a scoff, eyes sheening with tears, like you’re losing your mind, “all of the fucking car repair bills.” Your chest is heaving as you shake your head. “Because you’re set for life as long as you kick a fucking ball.” 

His lips purse together, like he can tell there’s more on your tongue to say, more hurtful words, and he wants to hear you say them. And so you do.

“You’ve never had to suffer or worry about a single thing in your life. So don’t pretend like you understand what I’m trying to do here tonight,” you say, inflection signing off on the end, to tell him that you’re done. 

He stands in front of you, practically motionless except for the slow movement of his chest as he breathes. His expression, tense and hurt, softens slowly, and you see him digging his nails into the skin of his palms through fidgeting clenched fists at his sides. And then he relaxes them, too.

“Does that make you feel better?” he asks.

His question confuses you, and for some reason, regret washes over you. “What?”

“Does thinking of me that way—…does it make you feel better about all of this? Between us?”

You’re breathing fast, eyebrows pinching upwards to look at him, and the defeated expression on his face makes your heart ache. He’s waiting for an answer, and so you give him one. “Yes.”

He glances down at the ground for a moment, then at your collarbone, before meeting your gaze again. “I’m sorry. For everything. And I—” the words catch in his throat briefly, “I’ll try to leave you alone tonight.”

His use of the word try doesn’t escape you, but you give him a furtive nod, and he studies your face for a few moments before he steps back up onto the curb and walks past you. You watch him walk all the way, no longer with that confidence or conviction you’re so used to seeing in him, as he steps back into his circle, to Geto’s side. Geto gives a small glance over his shoulder to look at you with discerning eyes before looking at Gojo again, and then he’s turned away from you. 

Heavy feet drag you back to Kai, Ren, and Junichi, and you feel feverish. They mention something about the table being ready, and you nod. The bar is rustic, with more tables than barspace, and the four of you are seated and then presented with a small food menu. You’re seated next to Kai, Ren is right across from you, and Junichi is to his right. You watch a waitress usher Nanami, Choso, Geto and Gojo to one of the tables as well, two away from yours, and you forcefully blur your vision so you don’t have to catch sight of the expression on Gojo’s face.

“So,” Ren speaks up as his eyes peruse the food menu and Junichi waves the waitress over to order a round of sake, “tell me more about your experience, sweetheart.”

You blink at him, eyes feeling heavy, heart feeling heavy. “I’d prefer it if you called me by my name.”

Ren lets out a coo, and you briefly glance at Kai who’s shaking his head with a sigh. “My bad, y/n. Your experience?”

Your hands play with the folder sitting in your lap. “I started writing screenplays for small-scale directors when I was a freshman, and was greenlit on a couple into my sophomore year. One of the films I worked on, I had directing credits for, and it was nominated for best screenplay at Etoile Film Festival the year following.”

Ren swallows slightly, shifting in his chair and pushing his shoulders back, like he’s trying to establish himself now. Kai is clenching a fist on the surface of the table.

Ren clears his throat before speaking again. “Wow, okay, so you’ve actually got some serious shit going on.” His voice is a faux octave deeper. “What do you know about being a good assistant? Ever worked in customer service? Secretary?”

“Oh, I mean I have worked in customer service, but I wasn’t done sharing about my experience—” you try to say but Junichi cuts you off.

“First round’s on me,” he declares, “for bringing her out here.” He tips his chin to you and then sends Kai a glance.

A waitress brings by a bottle of sake, and Junichi begins pouring drinks into the glasses, then slides them across the table. Kai gives Ren a pointed look. 

“Don’t get too wasted,” Kai says to him as he brings his glass to his lips, “you start running that mouth of yours a little too much when you do.”

Ren grins at him and immediately knocks down the glass Junichi barely finished pouring from him in one go, and the gruff man beside him is grumbling. “Whatever you say.”

Something had been bothering you since you came here. “Wait,” you say, pointing between Kai and Ren, “do you two know each other already? Because,” you turn to look at Kai, “on the phone earlier, you sounded like you didn’t.”

Kai’s eyebrows raise in surprise, as though he’s discovered you have some skill for foresight. You glance at Ren, and he gives Kai a puzzled look.

“Uh, yeah. I’ve known Kai for years,” he says, “we go way back. We went to highschool together.”

Kai shifts a little in his chair. “Sorry. Probably forgot to mention it.”

You glance down at the glass of sake in front of you, and the way it twinkles under the lighting of the bar. You slowly bring it to your mouth, taking a small sip, and the way it coats your tongue is less than pleasing. 

“Can you tell me more about the assistant position?” you ask Ren, who’s emptied out the bottle of sake and waving someone over to order more. He already has a slightly flush to his face.

“Yeah, yeah, will do,” he says, “but first, let me tell you about what I do in visuals.”

Another round of sake is dropped by, and then another, followed by another, as Ren continues to ramble on and on about what he does for work, and how it’s entirely integral to the final piece of the film, although you’ve never really had a terrible level of appreciation for visual effects in short-film craft, since it’s hardly much work. But you wouldn’t say that, you just continue to nurse your one glass of sake as the three men surrounding you knock back more and more, and there’s slurs to their speeches now.

“Sooo, I’m so sorry, sweetheart—I mean y/n, for cuttin’ you off earlier,” he says, “but what was that experience you wanted to talk to me about?” Ren asks from across the table, and his eyes are all traveling over you.

“I…” you start, “well, I started to work with one of my professors last year, she’s a two-time Cannes Film Festival winner, and she let me under her wing for one of her projects last year.”

“Who is she? Oh wait, nevermind, probably wouldn’t have heard of her anyways,” Ren says, but when you fail to laugh, he waves his hand in the air. “Joking, joking. What’s her name?”

“Naoko. Naoko Ogigami.”

“Oh shit. I have heard of her,” Ren says, followed by a shallow hiccup. Junichi shrugs his shoulders, and when you look at Kai, he’s nodding slowly and toying with the rim of his glass with a finger.

“Yes. Well, anyways—” you start up again, before Kai sets his glass of sake down particularly loud.

“This is all bullshit. Really. I told you, filmmaking is a waste of time. Just focus on your photography, and your freelance or whatnot,” Kai says, grit to his jaw, face looking red with possibly something other than just a tipsiness. 

Ren lets out a laugh. “Fuckin’ Kai. What a pessimist. Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” he says, slurred, and you furrow your brow at him with a glare, “sorry. Don’t listen to him. Trust me, you’ll learn a lot under Mr. Ko. He’s a suuuper nice guy.”

“What’s the compensation?” you ask. It’s a brazen question, one you’d never ask so soon in a formal interview process, but this table was hardly anything formal.

“Real good. Mmm I think like…5200 yen an hour, and then also, you get your foot in the door.”

“Oh,” you sit up a little in your chair. It was higher than most entry-level anything for undergraduates or even new grads. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he drawls when he sees you’re more interested. “Good stuff. Kai used to pick these kinds of jobs up, too, back in his college days. I remember. Although, he’s hardly Mr. Ko’s type, so I doubt he’d be any good for this one.”

Your head snaps to Ren again at his words, face tensing. 

“Tell her about what a job like this—hic—entails,” Ren says as he extends his glass out for Junichi to pour him another.

Kai glances at Ren once, and you watch him grind his teeth for a moment, and then there’s a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Oh. Y’know, clerical work. Stuff like printing scripts out,” Kai starts, Junichi filling up his glass and then he raises it into the air to watch the liquid swish around, “grabbing him coffee. Making sure his trailer is stocked.”

“Blowing him in said trailer,” Ren says. It’s something quiet, under his breath with a small laugh, where you could barely hear it across the table. But you heard it nonetheless. And your heart sinks to the core of the earth.

“Excuse me?” you say. The benefit of doubt sitting on your shoulder, watching in disbelief as well.

“He’s joking,” Kai says, quickly, “runnin’ his mouth.”

“Oh fuck off, Kai,” Ren says, throwing his hands up in the air, “don’t act like that’s not why you brought her here.”

Your head slowly turns to Kai, who can’t meet your gaze. Your eyes flicker to Junichi, who looks amused. 

Ren leans over the table, elbows resting on top, to look you straight in the eyes. He’s got a sleazy smile, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, and he dips his tone down low enough to where you can hardly hear it over the sounds surrounding you in the bar. “That’s how you’ll make it in this industry, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not, you’ll be working under those directors until you make it.”

You stand up so fast that your chair falls behind you, hand raised in the air, and you swiftly slap the man across from you so hard across the cheek that it leaves his skin even more red than the flush from before, and your palm is stinging. 

There’s gasps all around the bar, hushed voices, eyes on you, but you don’t care. There’s not a single thing in the world you care more about right now than the anger swelled in your chest.

Ren holds his cheek, surprised, blinking like a pathetic animal. He almost looks like he’s about to cry, and you let out a scoff at the sight.

You turn to face Kai, whose eyes are wide and he’s staring up at you. Your fists are clenched at your side.

“Is this why you brought me here tonight?” you ask. Your voice is trembling, anxiety at the wake, the white anger spotting your vision. But there’s also pain. So much pain, and you’re just so fed up with all of it. “Because your belittling, condescending words weren’t enough to tear my hopes apart, so you had to humiliate me in front of your friends instead?”

Kai holds his hand up. “Woah, Canon, relax. He was just joking—…” Kai glances at Ren, who’s still holding his cheek and biting down on his lip, and then his gaze hardens. “Y’know what? It’s about fucking time you get this wake-up call, y/n. I’ve been trying to do the nice thing to steer you in the right direction, and the least you could—”

“Steer me in the right fucking direction?!” you’re yelling now, registering the way your voice echoes in the bar. “You know what I think this is all about, Kai?” You grit your teeth, “You’re a sick, stupid, sexist fuck who didn’t have the balls to go after what he wanted. So miserably pathetic that you’ve got no other fucking business than to pull people down to your level.”

Kai pinches his eyebrows together, hand on the table clenching into a fist. 

You lean down closer, an exasperated scoff leaving your lips. “Why don’t you go be his assistant instead? Since I’m sure you’re good at taking it up the ass.”

Kai’s eyes twitch, “you fucking—”

You grab his glass off the table and throw the alcohol into his face, eliciting another round of noises around the bar, and his mouth falls agape in shock before he gets up out of his chair, hand reaching out to grab for you. You close your eyes shut with a flinch to expect pain. Any sort of pain. But you don’t feel anything at all.

When you open your eyes, you see Gojo standing to your left, veins of his arm tense with the tight grip he has on Kai’s forearm, and you can see he’s practically shaking with rage. He steps in front of you, guarding, and you can’t see the expression on his face, but the fear in Kai’s eyes is enough to say it all.

“That’s enough,” he says, the clench of his jaw evident through the strain in his voice, “try to put your hands on her again, and I’ll split your fucking face in half.”

You can see Kai’s breathing pick up from where you’re peering over Gojo’s shoulder, and then Gojo shoves him backwards right as Choso kicks the fallen chair to his feet so he trips over it backwards then hits the ground with a loud and indignant thud.

Gojo’s hovering over Kai, his hands shoved in his pockets as he glares down at him, while Geto and Nanami put space between you and the other two men at your table. You feel a searing flush to your cheeks. You’re breathing fast, the peering eyes all around you are scrutinizing, looking at you with surprise, confusion, shock, and pity. Your mind is racing, and you wonder what your parents would think of all this. What your friends would think of all of this. What the people who support you would think of the fucked up situation you’ve found yourself in, and the humiliation courses so deep through your veins that you just want to run away and hide. The ground could swallow you whole right now, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

You take one step back, then another, before you turn on your heel to rush out the door into the night, and you barely register that it’s raining. You can feel your heart thumping fast in your chest and in your head, that familiar knot in your throat twisting tight as you walk fast down the street and ignore Gojo’s call of your name from behind you.

You don’t want to see anyone right now. You don’t want to be seen by anyone right now. Especially Gojo, of all people, because he was right about everything, and the fact that you had shut him down about it, and the way that you had shut him down about it makes your head numb and your breathing pick up fast.

“y/n,” you hear him call out from behind you, his pace is getting faster and so you’re resorting to longer strides as well, puddles of water splashing under your feet with every step, “just wait—”

“I’m seriously,” you start, and the tears begin to fall, “I’m seriously so, so, so, so, so fucking embarassed right now,” you gasp out the words with no air left in your lungs to breathe as you continue to run away from him, “so please, just leave me alone.”

You can picture it all in your head. Something like I told you so from his lips, because after what you’ve been put through tonight, you just want to assume the worst in people.

But just as you round the corner into an alley, feeling lost with the sight of a dead end, you feel a hand wrap around your arm and then you’re being pulled into an embrace.

Your eyes are blinking with tears streaming, your face buried in a chest that is warm, with a heart beating so fast that it’s keeping time with your own, and the fragrance that surrounds you is so painfully him that it makes you sob even more.

Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and Gojo rests his chin at the top of your head. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, and you can feel the rumble of his voice, “I just needed to stop you from running.”

Your arms are weakly raised, an outline over his torso but not yet grabbing on, until you hesitantly do. And when you hold onto him, it’s so tight and strong, and you realize that after everything between the two of you, it’s the first time you’ve been wrapped in his arms.

“I feel so stupid,” you start, already hating the words because you want to be stronger right now, but you can’t.

“You’re not stupid,” he quickly corrects you, “those guys are fucking insecure losers. You’re just trying your best. You always have, for as long as I’ve known you, and it’s something you should be proud of yourself for.”

You don’t know what to say to him, you just cling to the damp fabric of his shirt in the rain.  

“Things are going to work out for you, no matter what, because I know you’ve got what it takes and you’re willing to work hard for it,” he says, his chin nuzzling so you’re tucked into him even further, “and if things don’t work out, that’s okay, you’re strong and you’ll always get back up. And I want to be there to help you through everything.”

You pull your face from his chest to stare up at him, droplets of rain falling to your face and making you flinch occasionally. “I’m confused.”

His hand comes up to cup your face, swiping at a tear on your cheek, or maybe it was rain. “I thought that—” he starts, his thumb briefly running over the small cut still healing on your cheek, his brow furrowing, “I thought that I’d be okay with watching your life from afar, through cropped pictures on a screen,” he says, a chill running through you, “but I can’t. It’s killing me. And I’m really sorry that it took me this long to tell you this, but I like you so much and I really want to be with you.”

Your eyes widen at his words, and you don’t know how to feel. You push your face into his chest again. His thumb runs circles at your side through the dampness of your shirt.

“There are a lot of reasons I didn’t feel like I could date you, or show up for you,” he says, “but the pain of not getting to be with you, of not getting to hold you, and just share my life with you is way worse than whatever reasons I kept trying to convince myself of.”

You nod slowly, because there was a part of you deep inside that knew that all along. 

His grip on you relaxes slightly and you take that as a request from him for you to look up at him, so you do. “I know I’ve put you through a lot of pain, and I’m really not a perfect person, but if there’s room in your heart to forgive me, I promise you that I’ll do everything I can to make you feel happy and cared for.”

Your eyes study his face for sincerity. They’re words you’ve been wanting to hear, words you could’ve pictured in your head, but the adoration in his eyes makes you realize you never could’ve imagined the true sweetness of those words when they’re said from him.

You press your cheek to his chest again. You’re not crying anymore. “I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier. About kicking a soccer ball, and having it easy,” you bite down on your lip, because now there’s tears in your eyes again, “I didn’t mean it.” You sniffle a little, “I know you work hard. And it was a really mean thing to say.”

He sighs, holding you flush to himself. His cheek presses against the top of your head. “That’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for that.”

“But I do.”

There was no grudge at all. There was nothing withdrawn from you, nothing taken away as punishment. He just held onto you, exactly as you are, and you felt so safe in every second you spent in his arms.

You look up at him again. His hair is damp, strands clinging to his face in all the places they usually fall over, droplets of rain falling from his fringe onto your face and he does everything he can to wipe them away. “It’s too late,” you tell him, and he immediately knows what you’re referring to.

He just holds you closer. “I know.”

“I don’t have feelings for you anymore,” you say through a sniffle.

He knows you’re lying, and that you say it just out of spite, but he holds your head to his chest. “I know.”

“You’ll have to beg and grovel, and even then, I might not like you ever again,” you say, gripping so tightly onto his shirt for purchase, your voice sounding muffled as you breathe in the scent of him. “That’s your punishment.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. A firm press of his lips, lasting as he takes a few deep breaths. And then he kisses the same spot again, staying still in that position as he repeats himself.

“I know.”

--

a/n. phewww thank you for reading, i swear, this chapter felt like a goddamn war to write. my emotions were all over the damn place, i think cause i wrote from a place of bitter experience lol. i dedicate this chap to my lovely friend she’s a film major (she inspired me to create this story) and i srs wouldn’t be able to write kickoff without her 😭💕 dear M♥︎, i thought of you sm while writing this chapter, i can only hope i���ve captured even the slightest bit of the understanding i will always aim to have of you, and that you feel seen. i’m incredibly proud of you, always rooting for you, so often thinking of you, and terribly missing you so much rn (plsssssss visit meee😩💔 ) dedicated w sm love 💕 -bitchasshoe this chapter is also dedicated to anyone who’s going through a hard times n maybe just trying to figure themselves out :”) i am so proud of you, you should be so proud of yourself, there’s still so much to live and learn, and i hope the universe blesses you w everything you’ve ever wanted!! big thank u to my lovely m00t @quinnyundertow she pulled me out of my writers block for this chapter and also beta read a lot of it for me there’s only three chapters left for kickoff (i’m gonna cry just thinking ab it :”)) which doesnt sound like a lot but there’s still a lot i’ve got planned 😭 i’m just noticing that i very poorly planned the second half of this series. chapters 1-6 combined have less words than chapters 7-9 combined 😅✨ sooooo i may increase the chapters from 12 to 14 by splitting them up to make it easier on me, or just stick to the plan and come out with long chapters like the last two. idk. i’ll figure it out. thank u to everyone for reading i love you all dearly 😭💕 i’ll see you in the next one!!

➸ take me to chapter ten!

➸ wrote some kickoff headcanons here

--

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd @ronniebird @bloopsstuff @mwtsxri @witchbybirth @tetsuski @fffinskye @gh0ulkz @beabadobeee @mandysfanfics @erencvlt @laviefantasie @sukunamylovexoxo @girlkissersco @itzjuliana @yell0wdreams @1dimas7 @strayedjeno @mo0nforme @yungbloode @sullybrothersmate @oaooaoaoaoa @swagangelllamawolf @banenemilk @inniesblog

(hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

[aesthetically-dying101]

how would the jjk men react to the reader jumping out the car during an argument?

A/N: HELLO??? LMFAO???? thats hilarious, im writting this bc this is just fucking funny, im tempted to simply like... kill the reader, but that'd be the easy way out.

warnings: arguments, angst, sad, humor? bad humor. this is all for shits and gids okay? don't take it seriously. couple uses of Y/N. a bit of ooc, toxic behavior

Characters: Nanami, Toji, Gojo, Geto, Sukuna, Choso, Shiu, Higuruma. (in that order)

The countryside stretched on, endless and suffocating, the car’s tires humming against the asphalt in a rhythm that made you want to scream. The air inside the vehicle was thick, not with heat but with words unsaid, unscreamed. Nanami Kento, ever composed, was driving with the calm precision of someone determined not to rise to the bait.

His voice, steady and measured, grated against your last nerve.

“I understand your concern,” he said, not taking his eyes off the road. His hands were firm on the wheel, knuckles pale in the moonlight. “But you’re being unreasonable. The job requires—”

“Requires you to throw yourself into danger headfirst?!” You snapped, twisting in your seat to glare at him. “You think that’s noble, Kento? You think that makes you some kind of martyr?”

He sighed. Not a loud sigh. Not an exasperated sigh. Just a small, quiet thing, like a pressure valve letting off steam. That was worse. Like he’d already decided how this would play out.

“It’s not about martyrdom. It’s about responsibility. Someone has to—”

“Stop the car.”

His brow twitched, just slightly. “Don’t be ridiculous—”

“STOP. THE. CAR.”

“I will not,” he said, voice clipped but still infuriatingly calm. “It’s the middle of nowhere. We can discuss this like adults when we’re—”

You didn’t wait for him to finish. Your hand shot to the door handle, adrenaline drowning out the rational voice in your head. You didn’t care.

You didn’t care.

The door opened. The rush of cold air hit you like a slap, and then you were out—tucking and rolling onto the roadside gravel, the world spinning around you. The scrape of stones against your hands and knees barely registered as you scrambled to your feet, heart pounding.

Behind you, the car screeched to a halt. A perfect, precise stop.

Of course.

You didn’t look back. Not yet. Instead, you started walking, arms crossed tight over your chest. The night swallowed you whole—darkness, the hum of cicadas, the cold bite of an autumn breeze. It was reckless, sure. Irresponsible. But wasn’t that the point? You wanted him to feel it, to see how it felt when someone you cared about did something stupid, reckless, dangerous.

“Y/N.” His voice, steady but closer now, rang out in the stillness.

You kept walking.

“Y/N.” A little sharper this time. A little more him. The sound of his footsteps behind you quickened.

“Go back to your car, Kento!” you shouted over your shoulder, not slowing down. “Since you love driving into danger so much—”

“Enough.”

The word cut through the night, firm and final. You stopped. You didn’t turn, but you stopped, arms still clutched tight against your chest, trembling from more than the cold.

He caught up to you in a few long strides, stepping in front of you, blocking your path. His expression was unreadable in the moonlight—stoic as ever, but his jaw was tight, his shoulders tense. The mask of calm had cracked. Just a little.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice low. “Do you have any idea how—”

“How what?” you snapped, chin tilting up defiantly. “How dangerous it is? How stupid? How it feels to watch someone you care about walk into danger without thinking—”

His hands found your shoulders, grounding, steady. “You’ve made your point,” he said quietly. Not cold. Not dismissive. Quiet in the way a storm retreats.

You blinked up at him, the fire in your chest flickering under the weight of his gaze. For a moment, it was just the two of you, standing in the dark, the night pressing in around you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and the words fell heavy, deliberate. His grip on your shoulders tightened, just slightly. “I’m sorry for worrying you. But don’t ever do that again.”

You stared at him, lips parted, heart pounding. His words weren’t scolding. They weren’t angry. They were something deeper—something raw, a plea wrapped in steel.

“I—” Your voice wavered, and you bit the inside of your cheek, shaking your head. “You don’t get to—”

“I don’t,” he interrupted, softer now. “I don’t get to lecture you. But I’m asking. Please.”

The wind tugged at your hair, carrying the sharp scent of pine and earth. You let out a shaky breath, finally letting your arms drop to your sides. His hands slid away, lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

“Fine,” you muttered. “But you’re not off the hook.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips, so fleeting you might have imagined it. “I wouldn’t expect to be.”

The car’s interior was suffocating, thick with anger that burned hotter than the night outside. Toji’s knuckles were white against the steering wheel, his jaw locked tight, his eyes glued to the road with a fury that made you want to shrink into the seat. But you didn’t shrink. You stared ahead, matching his tension with your own boiling frustration.

“It wasn’t my fault,” you said, your voice sharp enough to cut.

“I know it wasn’t your fault,” he bit out, the words snapping through gritted teeth. “It was that idiot Shiu sending you in blind—”

“Then why are you yelling at me?”

His hands slammed against the steering wheel with a crack that echoed through the car, his lips curling into a snarl. “I’m not yelling at you! I’m yelling because you could’ve gotten yourself killed!”

The words hung there, heavy and seething. The car swerved slightly as his grip returned to the wheel, the muscle in his jaw twitching like a live wire. You could feel his fury rolling off him in waves, not aimed directly at you but still scalding, too hot to bear.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, the walls of the car closing in. The road stretched endlessly under the dim glow of the headlights, the countryside a black void on either side.

“You don’t get to do this,” you shot back, voice shaking with the adrenaline surging through you. “You don’t get to act like you care and then—then—”

“Then what, huh?” he barked, glancing at you, eyes flashing. “I told Shiu to back off. I told him not to send you, but he didn’t listen, and now I’m cleaning up his—”

You didn’t think. You didn’t plan. The door handle was in your hand before you realized it, the rush of cold night air slapping you in the face as you yanked it open.

“The hell are you—” Toji’s shout was drowned out by the roar of wind as you threw yourself out of the car, tucking and rolling onto the gravel shoulder. The impact jolted through your body, but you barely felt it, adrenaline numbing the scrape of rocks against your skin.

You were on your feet before the car screeched to a halt, headlights slicing through the darkness as Toji slammed on the brakes. The sound of the car door opening and slamming shut followed, heavy boots crunching against the gravel as he stalked toward you.

“What the fuck was that?!” he roared, his voice carrying over the empty countryside, sharp and furious. “You trying to get yourself killed again?”

You didn’t turn around, just started walking in the opposite direction, arms crossed over your chest.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me!” Toji shouted, the anger in his voice now laced with something else. Something sharp and raw.

You ignored him, steps deliberate, the cold wind biting at your skin.

In two strides, he was on you, grabbing your wrist—not rough, but firm enough to stop you in your tracks. “Hey,” he growled, voice low and dangerous. “You don’t get to pull that kind of stunt and just walk off. Not with me.”

You whirled on him, yanking your wrist free. “And you don’t get to treat me like some reckless idiot when you do this kind of shit all the time!” you shot back, chest heaving, voice trembling with anger. “You want to talk about getting killed? Look in the damn mirror, Toji!”

He froze, the words hitting him square in the chest. His jaw worked, but no sound came out for a moment, his shoulders stiffening as his gaze bore into yours.

“I’m not—” He stopped himself, dragging a hand through his hair, fingers gripping the strands like he wanted to rip them out. His voice dropped, low and tense. “You don’t get it. It’s different when it’s me.”

“Why?” you demanded, stepping closer, your voice rising. “Because you think you’re invincible? Because you think I can just stand by and watch you do it, over and over again?”

His eyes narrowed, the muscle in his jaw ticking again. For a second, you thought he might explode again, but then his shoulders sagged—just barely—and he exhaled sharply through his nose.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he muttered, the admission rough and grudging, like it had been dragged out of him against his will.

“Then stop acting like I don’t care when you do,” you said, your voice softer now, the anger ebbing just slightly, leaving exhaustion in its wake.

The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy, the night pressing in on all sides. He looked at you, really looked at you, his gaze lingering on the scrapes on your hands, the way your shoulders trembled—not just from the cold.

Finally, he sighed, long and low, and ran a hand down his face. “Get back in the car,” he said, his voice quieter now but still firm.

You hesitated, meeting his eyes, waiting for something more.

“I’ll... drive slower,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. His tone softened further, almost grudgingly. “And we’ll talk when we get back.”

It wasn’t an apology. Not exactly. But for Toji, it was close enough.

You huffed, crossing your arms tighter over your chest, but after a beat, you nodded and turned back toward the car.

He followed a step behind, silent but watchful, like he’d be ready to catch you if you bolted again.

The air between you both is sharp, thick like the tension that’s been building for days, if not weeks. Every word Gojo says is like a slap against your skin, each tone laced with venom, dripping with frustration. You can't take it anymore. You’d tried, you really did—tried to understand his side of things, but how the hell are you supposed to when everything seems to revolve around his ego, his strength, his damn Infinity?

You're seething in that passenger seat, hands balled into fists, teeth gritted so hard you're sure you'll snap them. Then he says it, something about being "the strongest" again, like it means anything to you anymore. Like it's some sort of answer to every damn thing in this relationship.

"I don't care that you're the strongest, Gojo!" You snap, voice sharp and unforgiving. "It doesn't make you untouchable, it doesn't give you the right to be reckless, and it sure as hell doesn’t mean you can ignore me when I’m worried sick about you."

But no, of course, that doesn't go over well. He's pissed too. He’s glaring at you, hands gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles are as white as his cursed energy. His lips curl into a sneer. "You think I don't know what you're saying? But this—this is just how it is. I don’t get to stop, okay? Not with everything the clans are pushing on us. This is the life we lead—”

"Yeah, well, I'm not just some accessory for the clans to throw into the mix!" You cut him off, barely holding back the rage in your voice. "I’m a person, not a tool for your legacy!"

That’s it. The straw that breaks the camel’s back. His words get louder, each one bouncing off the inside of the car like it's shaking the world around you. He's got every excuse in the book, and you’re about done with it.

Before he can finish another sentence, before that arrogant smirk can crawl back onto his face, you fling open the door. Without thinking, you just—jump.

The world spins as you tuck and roll, landing with a thud on the ground, your heart pounding like you've just done something insane, which you have. You don’t even spare a glance back at him, just start walking—stomping away like you mean it. You don’t care if he catches up or not, you're just done.

Gojo slams on the brakes, tires screeching as he skids to a stop. You hear the door swing open, his voice booming from behind you, "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

You don’t stop, your pace just as fast, your anger rising with every step. He’s right there, a few feet behind you, his breath heated, as he jogs to catch up. "You think you can just walk away from me, huh? What, you think I'm just gonna let you leave like that?"

You turn your head, throwing him a look that’s half fury, half disbelief. "You’re not untouchable, Gojo. Stop acting like you are. You’re just a man. A very strong, annoying, overpowered man—"

"I’ve got Infinity!" he interrupts, mocking, that cocky grin plastered on his face. He says it like a child, making sure to emphasize the ‘in’ like it’s the only thing that matters, the only thing that’s real in his world.

You can feel it in your chest, the ridiculousness of it all, and for a second, just a second, your resolve wavers. He’s being childish, but it still makes you want to laugh. And you fight it, you really do, but when you look at his face—his dumb, smug face—you can’t help but let out a laugh, short and sharp, despite yourself.

He’s still smirking, walking beside you now, like he’s won, like this is all some stupid game. But it’s not. Not to you.

"You're a fucking idiot, you know that?" you mumble, eyes glaring ahead, refusing to look at him, even though his presence is like a constant pull you can't quite ignore.

And Gojo, always the one to make everything about him, only chuckles in response, like he’s getting some sick enjoyment out of this back-and-forth.

"Yeah, maybe. But I’m still the strongest, right?"

You don't even dignify that with an answer.

Not yet.

The car hums beneath you, but the tension between you and Geto is suffocating. The engine’s low growl matches the intensity in his voice as he rips into you, trying to force you to see the world through his eyes. But it’s like listening to a nightmare—one you’ve already woken up from, and yet, here he is, dragging you back into it.

"You're still so blind," Geto snarls, his fingers tightening around the wheel. "You don’t see it, do you? The truth is, they’re all weak. Normal people? They're nothing but monkeys. You think they deserve your loyalty? They're nothing but pawns in a game they can’t even understand."

His words hang heavy in the car, sharp like daggers, and they cut deeper with every breath. He’s not the person you knew anymore. This isn’t the man you trusted, the one who once laughed with you, who fought at your side. He’s become something else, something dark, something dangerous. His vision for the world feels suffocating, and you won’t be a part of it.

You can feel your pulse quicken, your blood boiling with anger. The venom in his voice—the conviction, the belief that he’s right—it’s pushing you to the edge, testing every ounce of control you have left.

"I won’t be a part of this." Your voice cracks through the tension, a brittle sound that almost breaks. "I can’t be. You’re talking about destroying people—people who don’t even have the ability to see the curses, to see what we do. They can’t fight back, Suguru. They don’t deserve this. I won’t be your weapon."

His eyes snap to you, his gaze sharp as a blade. For a moment, the car feels like it’s closing in on you, the walls too tight, his presence too heavy. The silence is almost worse than his words, the oppressive weight of his fury pressing down on you.

Geto lets out a harsh laugh, a sound that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

"You don’t get it. You still don’t get it. They’re all sheep. I am offering you something better—a future without them dragging us down. You could be so much more, if you just open your eyes. We’re better, you and me. We can reshape the world."

Your hands tremble with rage. His words hit you like a slap, but it’s not just his twisted ideals that make you want to scream—it’s the way he’s trying to convince you, like you’re nothing but a piece on his chessboard, something to manipulate. He’s trying to pull you into his madness, to drag you into his vision of a world built on violence and control.

"Stop." The word comes out sharp, almost like a growl. "I won’t be a part of this. You’ve crossed a line, Geto. You’re not the person I knew anymore."

Oof- back to his last name??

You don’t care that his grip on the wheel tightens, the knuckles white with fury. You don’t care about his angry, piercing glare. The air inside the car is thick, suffocating, pressing in on you with every word he spits at you. You’ve had enough. You can’t breathe anymore, can’t stand being trapped in this twisted conversation with him.

Without thinking, your hand shoots out, grabbing the door handle with desperate force. You slam the door open with a flick of your wrist, the wind hitting your face with a rush of cold air. You don’t give him the chance to stop you. You don’t give him the chance to change your mind.

With a deep breath, you push yourself out of the car, rolling your body onto the asphalt in one smooth motion. Your body protests, but you barely register the pain; it’s nothing compared to the ache in your chest. You land on your feet and take off, walking away without a single glance behind you.

You can hear the car screech to a halt, the engine roaring as he slams it into park. You hear him shout your name, his voice full of rage, but it’s all distant now. His words are meaningless, like the noise of a storm that’s passing.

You’ve already made your decision.

"I'm not going to be part of your cult. You’re wrong, Geto. You’re delusional." The words leave your mouth cold and final, cutting through the air between you like a blade. "You don’t get to decide who lives and dies, and I won’t follow you into the hell you’re trying to build."

Geto’s voice rises behind you, thick with fury. "You’ll regret this," he calls after you, but you don’t flinch. You won’t. Not anymore. "You’ll see. They’re all going to fall."

You don’t look back, your feet pushing you farther away from him, away from the mess he’s trying to drag you into. With each step, the weight in your chest lightens.

He’s lost. He’s gone.

And you’ll never let him drag you down with him.

All you can do is mourn the man you once loved.

The car’s too small for all the fury in the air, every inch of it heavy with the weight of the argument. You’ve been staring out the passenger window for what feels like hours, the night sky swallowing the city’s glow. Sukuna’s words buzz in your head, replaying over and over. “It’s not a big deal. He’s fine. He’ll forget about it.” The way he shrugs it off, like it means nothing. Like he hasn’t scarred your kid for life. You can feel the heat rising in your chest, the tightness in your throat as you grip the seat, trying so damn hard to hold it together.

But you won’t. Not this time.

You turn your head slowly, eyes catching the way his fingers twitch on the steering wheel, like he’s just waiting for you to break. He’s so damn sure of himself. So damn confident that he’s right, as always. But this time, his smirk makes your blood boil. His dismissive tone stabs at the raw nerve inside you, the one you’ve tried so desperately to protect. Your son.

"He's fine," Sukuna says again, his voice as smooth and cold as ever. "You’re making a mountain out of a molehill."

Every word that leaves his mouth just makes it worse. Your son—your baby boy—is having nightmares, waking up in cold sweats, eyes wide and terrified, unable to look at you without seeing the bloodstained images from that night. The night you specifically told him not to expose him to. The night he thought it was fine to act like an idiot.

“I said don’t let him see that,” you snap, voice trembling with a mix of anger and heartbreak. Your hands are shaking now, and you’re gripping the armrest so hard you’re sure it’s gonna snap off. You look at him, not even trying to hide how pissed you are anymore. “You broke the one rule I had. The only rule. Don’t expose him to that.”

Sukuna flicks a glance at you, eyes narrowing just slightly, but his expression doesn’t change. “He’s a kid, he’ll forget. You’re overreacting. Get over it.”

You blink, hard. He’s not even listening.

It takes everything in you to not scream, but you manage to hold it in, just barely. You’re already feeling the cracks form inside of you. You’re done. The car’s cramped. The air’s thick. The tension suffocating. You can’t be here anymore. You need to get out. You need to breathe.

You don’t even think about it. You don’t give him the chance to stop you. Without a word, you yank the door open. The metal groans in protest, the sound of the lock clicking just before you toss yourself out. You tuck your body into a roll as soon as your feet hit the ground, the asphalt scraping your skin as you brace for impact. Pain flashes in your shoulder and knees, but you don’t care. You don’t care. It’s better than staying in that damn car with him, with the anger boiling over between you both, suffocating every part of you.

Before you can even get to your feet, there’s the sound of tires screeching. You hear the slam of the brakes, the engine roaring to life as Sukuna’s car jerks to a stop. You can already feel his presence behind you, towering and relentless. You don’t turn around. You don’t want to see that look on his face, the one that says he’s about to destroy you for this.

But you don’t care anymore.

You start to take a step forward, ready to walk away from him, but then there’s a sharp tug on your arm, like steel, pulling you back. Before you can even process it, he’s yanking you up, dragging you back toward the car. His grip is like fire, burning through your jacket, through your skin, through your very bones. You don’t have time to think, not as he shoves you into the backseat like you’re a doll he’s tossing aside.

You try to fight back, but it’s useless. His hand pushes you down into the seat, hard enough that your head rattles against the window. He slams the door shut with a finality that leaves no room for argument.

“What the hell was that, huh?” His voice is low, dangerous, each word dripping with a mixture of anger and disbelief. You can feel his eyes burning holes into you as he leans over the seat, his shadow stretching across your face. “You think you can just run away? You think that’s gonna solve anything?”

You don’t flinch. You don’t back down. Your heart’s still pounding, the fire still raging inside of you, but now you can’t escape. Not this time. Not anymore. You press your back against the leather seat, glaring up at him.

“You don’t get to control everything,” you say, voice steady, even though your chest feels like it’s about to implode. “I don’t care how much you think you know. You crossed a line. And you’re not going to pretend like it didn’t happen.”

His eyes flash. The air between you thickens. And then, in a move so fast you don’t even see it coming, his hand shoots forward, locking the child safety locks on the door with a sickening click.

You freeze, the weight of the motion hitting you like a punch in the gut. Your heart drops into your stomach as you realize what he’s just done. You’re trapped.

“Now, you listen to me,” Sukuna growls, his voice so low, it’s almost a rumble. His gaze locks onto you like he’s trying to strip you bare, like he’s trying to make you break. “You think this is over? You think this is going to go the way you want? No. It doesn’t work like that. Not when you’re mine.”

But even though his voice is dangerous, even though there’s a part of you that knows he could snap you in half, you don’t back down. You don’t flinch. Not this time. You stare him down, chest rising and falling with each breath, fury mixing with the bitter taste of defeat.

“You’re wrong,” you murmur, almost to yourself, but loud enough for him to hear. “You don’t get to make decisions for us anymore. Not after this.”

Sukuna stares at you for a long, excruciating moment, his grip tightening on the wheel, his jaw clenched so tight you’re worried it might snap. But then he pulls back, the silence hanging between you like a storm on the horizon.

You don’t know who’s going to break first, but you’re done letting him control this.

Done letting him walk all over you.

And you sure as hell won’t apologize for caring about your kid.

Choso's car is too quiet for a fight. But it’s that suffocating, deafening quiet—the kind where every word, every breath feels like a spark about to set fire to everything. You’re seething beside him, knuckles white on your lap as you try to breathe, try to hold it together, but it’s slipping, crumbling.

“You never fucking listen,” you snap, eyes narrowing as you stare out the window, trying to calm the storm raging inside you. You can't help the way your voice spikes. It's not like you want to blow up. But goddamn, his indecision drives you to the edge. "You just... sit there, like it’s all fucking fine. Like people aren’t walking all over you."

Choso's grip tightens on the steering wheel, knuckles going white. He doesn't say anything. Nothing at all. He doesn’t even look at you, his gaze focused straight ahead, his jaw clenched like he’s trying to keep it all in. But it’s always the same with him. You talk, you yell, you try to get through, but it never fucking matters.

“Answer me!” you demand, your voice sharp, cutting through the silence. “Why the hell won’t you stand up for yourself? For us? You just let people use you—let them walk all over you—and you do nothing. Nothing!”

He swallows hard, his breathing deepening, but his hands don’t leave the wheel. His eyes are still on the road, and there’s that damn tension in his shoulders. You see it, the way he’s folding into himself, curling inward like he’s trying to hide from everything you’re throwing at him.

“I’m not—” he begins, but the words die before they can even finish forming.

“No. You’re not what? What exactly are you not, Choso?” Your voice is practically dripping with bitterness, a mix of anger and frustration and maybe something else—something more desperate. “Do you think I’m blind? Do you think I don’t see you letting everyone walk all over you? Just fucking stop acting like it's okay.”

He winces at your words, but it’s worse when he does respond. It’s soft, almost pleading. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“That’s the problem! You don’t know anything. You just sit there, acting like if you don’t say anything, things will get better. But they won’t. They never do.”

His lips part, but he doesn't speak. He’s trying to make the words come out, trying to hold himself together, but all it does is piss you off more. The fact that he can’t—won’t—get it together.

“You’re always so fucking passive, Choso. Always.” You almost laugh, but it's hollow, empty. “Why is it always up to me to fix everything? To fight for us? I’m tired of doing everything.”

You feel him stiffen next to you, his eyes flickering toward you briefly. “I’m trying, okay? I’m trying my best,” he says, his voice breaking under the strain, desperate in its own way. “It’s just... I don’t know how to make it better. I don’t know how to fix it.”

You’ve heard him say that so many times, and it’s always the same. Like he’s always trying, but it never really shows. It’s always excuses, always reasons for why nothing can change.

The car feels like it’s closing in around you, suffocating. His words don’t reach you anymore. The air’s too thick. You can’t breathe. You’re done.

“Stop the car.”

It’s not a request. You’re done asking.

But Choso doesn’t even blink. He keeps driving like nothing’s wrong, like you didn’t just tell him you’ve had enough.

“I said stop the car,” you repeat, low, fierce. You can feel the heat of your anger burning under your skin, clawing its way out.

He shakes his head, eyes flicking toward you but never fully meeting your gaze. “Please, don’t do this. We’ll talk—just… just give it a minute.”

“A minute?” you scoff, the laugh coming out bitter. “I’ve given you more than enough minutes, Choso. I’m done. So, stop the damn car.”

But he doesn't. Not until you’ve already swung open the door.

The wind howls in, biting your skin, tugging at your hair, and before he can even register what you’re doing, you’ve already thrown yourself out of the moving vehicle.

It happens so fast. Your feet hit the asphalt with a sickening thud, and for a split second, it feels like the world is spinning. You roll with it, muscles reacting before your mind can even process the pain. The road scrapes against you, but it’s nothing compared to the anger boiling inside, the absolute rage at being trapped in this moment, with him.

The car screeches behind you, the tires scraping against the pavement as Choso slams on the brakes, panic in his eyes. The car comes to a jerky stop a few feet ahead of you, the engine still roaring as if it's a living thing trying to escape.

You’re on your feet instantly, dusting yourself off, every muscle screaming from the impact, but none of it compares to how your chest feels—how much lighter you are now, finally away from him and the suffocating weight of his inaction.

Choso stumbles out of the car, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his face pale like he’s seen a ghost. He’s not sure what to do, doesn’t know how to react to this, to you. “What the hell... what the hell are you—”

You stare at him, your eyes cold, hard. "I gave you so many chances. So many times I begged you to stop being a doormat, but you just let me down every fucking time." The words are sharp, cutting through him, but you can’t bring yourself to feel sorry.

His shoulders sag as he takes a step toward you, like a man broken. “I didn’t want you to—” He stops, his voice choking, and there’s a desperation in his eyes, something raw and vulnerable you’ve never seen before. “I’m sorry. I... I don’t know how to be what you want. But I’m trying, okay? I’m trying. I swear I am.”

The apology feels weak, like he’s not even sure how to ask for your forgiveness. But that’s just it. He’s been trying. But it’s never enough.

“You say that every time,” you mutter, shaking your head, the frustration still thick in your chest. “But I’m not here for the 'trying' anymore. I’m here for the real shit.”

He steps closer, almost pleading now, voice cracking. “Please. Don’t leave. Please don’t do this. I’ll change. I promise I’ll do better.”

But it’s not about promises anymore. Not about words. You’ve heard them all before. You turn away from him, not willing to look back, not willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his apology stings.

“Fix yourself first, Choso,” you say, voice flat. “Then maybe we’ll talk.”

You leave him standing there, chest heaving, hands trembling, the weight of his failure pressing down on him. You’ve made your decision.

You’re done. For now.

The tension in the air is so thick it feels like you could choke on it. Shiu’s words are venomous, biting at your every attempt to get through. You’re practically suffocating under the weight of the argument, your hands clenched tight in your lap, but nothing you say seems to matter. You try to stay calm—you try—but with every dismissive sneer, with every mocking word, you can feel yourself starting to lose control.

“God, you’re so exhausting,” Shiu mutters, leaning back against the seat like he’s bored, like you’re just some irritating fly buzzing around him. “You don’t get it, do you? You're just... complaining again.”

You’re not complaining. You’re asking, trying to make him understand, but he won’t listen. Doesn’t even want to listen. His eyes stay on the road ahead, face cold and detached like this entire conversation doesn’t matter.

“Why can’t you just hear me out for once?!” you snap, the words flying out before you can stop them. You’re not sure if it’s the frustration or the hurt that has your voice trembling, but at this point, it doesn’t even matter. You can’t keep this in anymore. “I’m not some... some damn punching bag for you to—”

Shiu cuts you off with a low, mocking chuckle. “Oh, so now I’m the villain? Always your side of things, huh? You can’t even see it, can you? You’re the one who never gets it.”

The nerve. The sheer audacity. You can feel your blood boiling, your heart hammering against your chest. He’s not even trying. He doesn’t even care.

Your fingers graze the door handle, the cool metal sending a shiver up your spine. Before you even fully process it, your hand is gripping the door, your body already leaning toward it. You’re done. Done trying to reason with someone who isn’t listening.

The moment the door opens, a rush of cold air hits you, and without thinking, you slide out of the car. You hit the pavement with a rough roll, knees scraping against the rough ground, but you don’t care. You can hear Shiu yelling behind you, but you’re not stopping. Not now.

“Are you out of your mind?” His voice slices through the air, close now, frantic with rage. You hear the screech of tires as he slams the car into park, and a moment later, you feel his presence looming over you like a dark storm cloud. The gravel beneath your feet crunches as he stalks toward you, and you don’t dare turn around.

“Get back in the fucking car, now.” His voice is low, like a threat. Dangerous. He’s pissed—so pissed that you can practically feel the heat radiating off his skin. His hand grabs your wrist, fingers digging into your skin like a vise, pulling you back toward him.

You try to wrench your arm free, but he’s stronger, his grip unrelenting. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” His words are sharp, cutting through the air. “You think this is some kind of fucking game? You think you can just throw yourself out of the car like some child when you’re not getting your way? Huh?”

Your chest is tight, heart pounding in your ears, but you manage to pull your arm from his grasp, your voice steady despite the fire burning in your veins. “I’m not a child, Shiu,” you spit, your eyes meeting his for the first time. “And you sure as hell don’t give a shit about what I’m trying to say. You just keep brushing me off. Dismissing me.”

His nostrils flare, and you see that flicker of frustration in his eyes, something darker underneath it all. He takes a step closer, crowding your space, and you don’t back down. You can feel the heat of his breath on your face as he snarls, “You think I don’t care? You think I don’t hear you? I’m the one trying to make sense of all this while you’re too busy throwing a fucking tantrum to see it!”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum,” you say, your voice quieter now, but it cuts through the tension. “I’m just... trying to be heard. And all you do is mock me. Disrespect me. It’s like nothing I say matters.”

Shiu’s jaw tightens, and for a split second, he just stands there, staring at you like he can’t quite decide whether to rage or say something else. He clenches his fists at his sides, his breathing harsh.

“You think I’m disrespecting you?” His voice is low, cold now, like he’s fighting to control something dark and dangerous underneath the surface. “You wanna know what I think? I think you’ve got a serious fucking problem if you think that’s the way to deal with things. Just running off. Throwing yourself out of the car like an idiot. Do you want to get yourself killed?”

You can feel the sharpness of his anger, the way it presses in around you. But you’re tired. You’re so fucking tired of this. Of being made to feel small, of being belittled and mocked every damn time you try to open up.

“I’m not trying to die, Shiu,” you mutter under your breath, the words barely audible, but you know he hears them. His eyes narrow.

“You don’t get it, do you?” His voice is rough, strained, like he's holding onto something. "You think I don’t care, but when you do shit like this, it’s like you’re testing me. Testing how far you can go before I snap. And you will snap me. You keep pushing me until there's nothing left to give."

You take a deep breath, gathering yourself, and look up at him. You’re standing your ground, your voice steady despite the chaos bubbling inside you. “I’m not trying to test you. I just need to know you’re listening... actually listening."

Shiu’s hands ball into fists, his entire body tense, like he’s one wrong move away from breaking. But instead of shouting, instead of pushing, he just looks at you, the anger still there, but it’s... different now. Less explosive, more something you can't quite place.

"Don’t pull that shit again," he growls, low and dangerous. "Next time you wanna walk out, you better be ready for the consequences."

You swallow hard, meeting his gaze, the storm between you still raging but, for the first time, it feels like it might settle. Or at least... it might.

Hiruguma's car was moving too fast, tires humming a low, steady growl against the pavement, a sound you couldn’t shake, one that throbbed in the back of your skull like the beat of your pulse. The air between you two was suffocating, charged with the kind of tension that made your stomach churn and your fists clench in your lap.

“Hiromi, you’re not listening to me,” you said, voice shaking despite your best efforts to keep it steady. He was gripping the wheel with one hand, his other resting lazily on the gear shift. His face was cast in sharp shadows from the headlights of passing cars, jaw tight, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.

“I’m listening,” he muttered, his tone flat, dismissive.

Another empty response.

“No, you’re not,” you snapped, louder this time, your voice cutting through the low rumble of the car. “You’re not fine, and you know it! You’ve been running yourself into the ground, and you don’t even care anymore!”

He didn’t even flinch.

“I said I’m fine,” he repeated, voice low, monotone, as if the words meant anything at all. His grip on the wheel didn’t tighten, didn’t change. He was detached, like he was somewhere else entirely, somewhere far away where your words couldn’t reach him.

You could feel the frustration boiling over, bubbling under your skin.

“You’re going to kill yourself at this rate!” you shouted, your voice cracking. You didn’t care if it sounded desperate. You were desperate. “And what then? Huh? What am I supposed to do, just sit here and watch you self-destruct?”

“I got it,” he bit out finally, sharper now, but still not looking at you. Not really looking at you. “I told you, I’m handling it.”

Your breath hitched.

“No, you’re not.” The words came out quiet this time, trembling, filled with something deeper, something raw and jagged. “You’re not handling anything, Hiromi. You’re barely holding yourself together.”

And still, nothing. Just that same blank, tired expression, the same hollow reassurance, the same nothingness.

Something inside you snapped.

Before you could second-guess it, before the gravity of what you were about to do could settle in, your hand shot out to the door handle. The wind roared against the opening door, the sound cutting through the argument like a knife.

“What the—?!” His voice cut through, but it was too late. You threw yourself out of the car, the wind slamming into you, the world spinning into a chaotic blur as you hit the ground. Pain bloomed sharp and immediate, your body rolling across the asphalt before finally coming to a stop on the hard, unforgiving pavement.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your own ragged breathing and the distant screech of tires. Then you heard it—the car skidding to a halt, the engine cutting off abruptly, followed by the slam of the door. Footsteps. Fast, frantic. His voice, raw and panicked in a way you’d never heard before.

“Are you insane?!” Hiruguma was on you in seconds, his hands gripping your shoulders, pulling you upright with a force that was almost too much. “What the hell were you thinking?!”

You didn’t answer right away, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. His hands were still on you, gripping too tightly, shaking slightly. His face was pale, eyes wide and frantic, the mask of apathy completely shattered.

“You’re not listening to me,” you whispered finally, your voice trembling. “You’re not hearing me, Hiruguma. You’re going to kill yourself. And I can’t— I won’t just sit there and let you.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes searching your face, and for the first time that night, he looked like he was actually seeing you. Really, truly seeing you.

“Do you have any idea how scared I was?” he said, his voice breaking on the last word. “You could’ve been—” He cut himself off, his grip tightening for a moment before he let out a shaky breath. “What if you’d gotten hurt worse than this? What if you—?”

His words faltered, and you saw it then—the cracks in his armor, the exhaustion, the guilt, the fear. It was all there, laid bare in the way his hands shook, the way his breath hitched, the way he couldn’t seem to meet your eyes for more than a few seconds at a time.

“I can’t lose you,” you said softly, the words falling between you like a stone, heavy and unyielding. “I’m scared for you, Hiruguma. I’m scared of what you’re doing to yourself. And if you won’t take care of yourself for your own sake, then do it for me. Please.”

He exhaled slowly, his hands loosening their grip as he closed his eyes for a moment, his shoulders slumping. When he opened them again, there was something different in his gaze—something softer, something broken, but still there.

“You’re right,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re right. I… I’ve been an idiot.”

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his, and for the first time that night, he didn’t pull away.

A/N: tbh i didn't rlly take this srsly, hence the low word count, but it was funny to write

Masterlist

:)

[kyber-crystal]

through the seasons || f.w.

summary: he would love you till the end of time. everyone can see it, and they can only hope that you’ll come to your senses and realize that too.

words: ~6.4k (i went overboard LMFAO)

warnings: light angst, some mentions of death / violence (but dw it's a happy ending)

a/n: first ever hp fic in like, ever LOL so apologies if this seems off in any way. the timeline for this is a lil weird?? but basically the fic starts during the spring of GOF: you’re a year below fred & a year above the golden trio : ) ALSO i highly recommend listening to 'moonlight serenade' by frank sinatra ESP during the parts it's mentioned in. you'll see why :))))

spring

Given that springtime was nearly over, it was rather cold outside. 

The sky gleamed a bright, cornflower blue, with the May morning breeze hitting your skin. You, Hermione, and Ginny found yourselves huddling together in the stands and tightly clutching each other to keep warm. 

Anticipation nipped at your insides like tiny needles. You had spent the past half-hour at breakfast listening to a nervous Ron ramble on about how he hardly knew what he was doing, and seeing an unusually quiet Fred pick at his food. You knew it wasn’t like him to spend almost an entire meal without saying more than a few words. 

“You ok?” you mouthed, glancing over at the redhead in concern.  “As long as you’re looking at me,” Fred replied, attempting a small smile. He pressed something warm and fuzzy into your hands under the table. “You’re my good luck charm today. Keep this for me during the match.” You nodded, and felt your heart warm as you looked down to see that it was the fuzzy scarf he always wore during Hogsmeade trips or around the castle when it got particularly chilly. His initials had been hand-stitched into one end—undoubtedly Mrs. Weasley’s handiwork. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” “That’s my girl.”

“Look!” Ginny whisper-shouted, ending your momentary flashback. “I think that’s them!”

The Gryffindor team filed out into the stadium to be instantly met with a cacophony of loud cheers and applause. Your throat was already starting to hurt from screaming alongside the seas of blazing red and gold, though the match had yet to begin. 

Without even realizing it, you found your eyes scanning the area for a particular ginger-haired Beater, and the tension you didn’t even know you had in your shoulders loosened as soon as you saw him. 

“You’re not even playing, yet I’d say you’re as big of a mess as poor Ronald,” Hermione chuckled lightly. “Concerned for someone?”

“Oh shut up,” you muttered, tightening Fred’s scarf around your neck just a bit more. “It’s the last match of the year—I’m just as nervous as everyone else. I need to see someone beat Malfoy’s egotistical arse to a pulp.”

Both her and Ginny snorted at this. 

“You’re right…but that’s not who I was referring to,” your best friend reminded you. 

You rolled your eyes. “Uh huh.”

“Don’t you think you care a little too much? More than a friend should?”

“No,” you stated flatly. But Hermione knew this was a lie—after all, she had known you for five years now and could tell when you were lying. She watched as you fiddled with the ends of the colorful scarf around your neck—a flash of something caught her eye, and she squinted to see F.W. embroidered in delicate gold. 

Of course you were being serious, she chuckled to herself. She decided to not say anything about why you had Fred’s scarf on, and instead joked, “Do you think he or Ron’ll make it without getting a concussion?” 

“Now that’s hard to say…” you began, knowing how the two boys were sometimes often quite clumsy. “Fingers are crossed that my Fred will be just fine.”

“Your Fred? What about Ron?” she raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you care about both of them?”

“—Both of them will be just fine,” you quickly corrected yourself. “They’ll be alright.”

“Okay…” she said, unconvinced that your reply wasn’t just a slip of the tongue. 

Turning your attention back to the game, you heard Lee Jordan’s classic, enthusiastic voice echo across the grounds. “Welcome to the last Quidditch match of the YEAR! We have quite the game in store today, Gryffindor versus Slytherin…” 

Eventually, after the captains shook hands and everyone mounted their brooms, Madam Hooch blew her whistle and released the balls into the air. Loud cheers filled the stadium once again, and all fourteen players shot up into the sky. You were only really focusing on one thing—or person, really. It seemed that you couldn’t take your eyes off him. 

“—aaand that’s a Bludger to the head from Fred Weasley, ouch, that’s gotta hurt…There goes Katie Bell, making a swift pass over to Johnson…there’s Johnson with the Quaffle! And then, ,there he goes…Fred Weasley does it AGAIN! Malfoy gets a hard Bludger to the back—”

Right then, Fred caught your eye and winked. You sent back a shy wave in response. 

Everyone tries their best to ignore the Slytherin section’s jeering taunts and chants of Weasley Is Our King. You didn’t need to look over to know Ron was hardly taking it. 

From there on out it was a blur of motion, noise, and loud sounds, and before you knew it, the match was over and done. 

“—GRYFFINDOR WINS! WITH WEASLEY’S GAME-WINNING BLOCK AND POTTER’S SHEER SPEED, THEY WIN!” The excitement is clear in Lee’s voice. “GRYFFINDOR WINS THE QUIDDITCH CUP!”

The crowd went wild again as Fred made his downward descent. As soon as the tips of his shoes touched the grass he jumped off and immediately rushed over to you as fast as his feet would take him.

Your head was spinning and you could barely tell what was going on amidst the ground-shaking noise and overall chaos. But there he was in front of you now, sweaty and tired but grinning wildly nonetheless as he brought you into a tight embrace. He started spinning you around and you couldn’t help but join in on his contagious laughter. 

“There’s my good luck charm,” he whispered into your ear as he set you down, breath fanning against the skin behind your ear. 

Having no words left except pure joy, you shook your head and smiled as you leaned into him, squeezing him back even tighter. “I’m so proud of you.”

Both of you were too busy to notice that your friends around you had stopped congratulating the other players and chattering with one another, their eyes now on you two. Ginny, Harry, and Hermione exchanged a look, and Ron, amidst his nerves and exhaustion, cracked a grin as he watched his older brother and best friend savoring a moment with each other. 

Hopefully, they’ll realize it for themselves…he thought. Amidst the chaos of the past year, he knew that all of them—especially the two of you—deserved a bit of peace more than anything. 

summer

“Last one there is a rotten egg and has to take the soddy backup broom!” Ginny shouted. You all immediately broke into a sprint at this, scrambling to go outside for yet another round of backyard Quidditch. Harry damn near tripped over his own feet as he and Ron tried pushing over each other to squeeze out the back door. Fred and George were doing the same thing, and you and Hermione used this chance to sneak past them. You silently high-fived each other at this.

“Boys will be boys…” she laughed quietly, linking your arm through hers as you continued walking across the meadow, the grass brushing against the fabric of your trousers. “There’s no catching a break around here.”

Lo and behold, poor Ron was forced to take the backup broom, grumbling the entire time as everyone put their gear on. “I hate you guys. Haven’t I been through enough already?”

Everyone took turns being the score-keeper, and this time it was Hermione (she had also been score-keeper the last two rounds as she was a bit tired, and didn’t really mind). She sat down under the giant apple tree as she chose the teams. 

“Harry, George, and Fred!” she called out. “Versus the rest of you.” 

“That’s so not fair!” Ron complained. “You have two Beaters and the—”

“—youngest Seeker in a century on one team,” Harry finished his sentence with a cheeky grin.

Ron rolled his eyes. “At least I’m with you, Y/N…I guess…”

“Thanks for the compliment, Ronald,” you said with a slight hint of sarcasm. 

It was only a few minutes in the match when Fred found himself distracted. He was supposed to be on guard, but his eyes kept wandering over to you, zipping around on your broom with ease, gliding through the air like a bird. He wondered when he stopped seeing you as just his ‘best friend’ and started seeing you as someone who made his heart beat faster; someone who he desperately wanted to see smile because that’s all he needed to make his entire day. 

“Awe, come on, Freddie, get your head back in the game!” you called out to him in a teasing voice as he just barely blocked a flying Bludger hurtling towards his face. “Don’t wanna be slammed into, now do you?”

He shook his head and quickly snapped out of it. “Of course not.”

“Blimey, Fred! You nearly gave yourself another concussion there from ogling at her!” George exclaimed. 

“I can’t help but be charming,” you joked, sending Fred a wink. “Enjoy the view while you can!”

It was only mid-morning/barely afternoon by the time you finished the last match, but if anything, your sore muscles told you that it felt like days had passed. Adrenaline was still thrumming in your veins as everyone headed in, laughing at the thrill of flying through the skies without a care in the world. 

“Remember that losers have to make lunch!” Harry reminded.

Ginny groaned. “Come on. Way to ruin the vibe.”

You, her, and Ron all let out long sighs before heading straight to the kitchen to whip something up for the six of you. Food bets needed to stop…

After a quick meal of sandwiches, everyone headed back outside to play more rounds of backyard Quidditch. You opted to stay in this time around; the dull ache in your shoulders and lower back telling you you’d had enough for the day. One cold shower and some quiet work helping Mr. Weasley organize his home office later, you slumped onto the sofa.

The remainder of the afternoon and evening went by slowly but peacefully. Eventually, you found yourselves sitting around on the living room floor, playing board games well into the night while the crickets chirped outside. The days were long, and cracking jokes and long talks came much easier than they normally did. Of course, Fred sat next to you the entire time, finding a way to be touching you in one way or another no matter what. Shoulders pressed together closely, fingers tracing patterns into your palms, a hand rubbing your back. 

Harry gulps down his mug of butterbeer before launching into a dramatic retelling of when Professor Moody turned Malfoy into a ferret, earning roars of laughter and “That git deserved it” from all around. Fred follows up with the first time him and George tested prototypes of their Puking Pastilles, which ended with a delirious Lee Jordan and Ron’s face turning greener than mandrake leaves (much to Mrs. Weasley’s horror—she sent both twins death glares at this). 

You were too busy losing it to notice an arm—Fred’s—snaking around your waist, pulling you into his side. But when you did realize it was him, you didn’t say anything, and just simply relaxed against him. It was second nature to you both; you’ve learned to anticipate him sliding up next to you. And, it was comforting to know that he would always be nearby.

Despite being the last one to go to bed, Fred was the first one awake before dawn had even broken over the horizon. The skies were clear but grey, and the roosters had yet to make a sound. 

“Wake up,” you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

“Whaddayawant,” you groaned, voice groggy. “Listen Ron, it’s too early to play Quidditch, tell Wood that you want to go for a round instead…”

“Hey, it’s only me,” Fred replied. “Come on, I’ve got something to show you.”

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you got up, being careful not to step on Hermione or Ginny’s hands or arms on the way out the door. He kept a hand pressed against the small of your back the entire way down the creaky staircase. 

“Ta-da…” he whispered, the classic Weasley grin spreading across his face. “Take a look at this beauty.”

“A…record player?” your brows furrowed in confusion. “This is what you woke me up at 4 a.m. for?” 

“Dad got it at this old Muggle store in central London years ago, he said it was a ‘thrift shop,’” Fred explained as your eyes glanced over the cracked, but beautiful record player on the kitchen table. “D’you reckon it still works, though?” 

“We’ll have to see for ourselves,” you shrugged. 

He placed the vinyl CD into the player and adjusted the needle, and within seconds a slow Muggle tune began to play. 

“Oh, I know this one…Hermione has told me about it before. Frank Sinatra is quite famous in the Muggle musical world.”

“Well, then…may I have this dance?” Fred extended a hand out to you. You shake your head and roll your eyes, but take his hand and allow him to pull you close. His arms wrap around your torso as your hands rest on his shoulders, and you allow yourselves to get carried away by the slow, melodic ballad.

My love, do you know That your eyes are like stars brightly beaming? I bring you, and I sing you  A moonlight serenade

Fred gently twirls you around the kitchen before bringing you back in and smoothly catching you by the waist, and you’re surprised at how easy it is for him. You often forgot that he had a knack for dancing—it wasn’t often that you got to see him do so. 

“And you were about to be upset at me for waking you up,” he leans in to say. 

“You’re forgiven,” you exhale, resting your head against his chest. “But you know I could never be upset with you.” 

Long after the song had ended, you still found yourself wrapped in his embrace.  

Mrs. Weasley was heading downstairs to start preparing breakfast, but suddenly stopped midway. Her heart warmed as she took in the sight of you and Fred standing in the middle of the kitchen, eyes closed as he hummed a foreign tune, slow dancing without a care in the world. 

Deciding not to interrupt, she stands there for a moment, smiling as she watched her boy fall in love with the young woman that she hoped to call her daughter one day. 

fall

“—Godric’s sake, I’m so tired of losing,” Ron groaned as you quickly smacked the top of the deck with your wand, dust flying into his face. “I’m never playing this with you again.” 

You rolled your eyes as he coughed and dusted himself off. “Okay, no Exploding Snap, then no more sweets from Honeydukes ever again.” 

“Fine, I’m playing, I’m playing,” he sighed, rubbing the side of his forehead as the colorful deck of cards reshuffled themselves. “You’re almost as horrible as my brother.”

“Almost as horrible as who—hey, Y/N, is that my jumper?” Fred paused as he approached you and Ron sitting at the coffee table, as Luna, Neville, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny watched on. 

“Dunno, is it?” you shrugged innocently, tapping your chin. “Hey, Nev, you want a go? I have to finish reading my book for McGonagall’s class.”

Neville nodded, and Ron raised a fist in triumph. “FINALLY! Bring it on, Longbottom.”

You shifted onto the couch so Neville could take your spot, and without another word, Fred sat down right next to you. The deep burgundy color of his Gryffindor sweater only further brought out the color of your eyes, he noticed, which sparkled brightly under the dim lighting. 

Fred then shifted to lay his head down in your lap, and you didn’t even do so much as flinch. With your book in one hand, you used the other to start brushing your fingers through his hair. You hadn’t even realized what you were doing until you heard him let out a quiet sigh of contentment. 

“Did I ever tell you that you’re absolutely brilliant?” he glanced up at you from where he lay, watching carefully and intently. “Sometimes I’m surprised that you weren’t sorted into Ravenclaw.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Weasley,” you laughed softly as you turned the page. 

Right as you were about to turn the page again, he stopped you by lightly tugging your wrist. “Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

“What are you talking about?”

He carefully turned your hand to look at the scratches etched into the back of it. They were beginning to fade, but the occasional shifts in movement would cause them to sting and sometimes crack open. 

“When did Umbridge do this to you?” Something unfamiliar flashed in Fred’s eyes, and he seemed angry for the briefest of moments. But the darkened look was quickly replaced with one of concern. “Does it still hurt?”

“No, not at all,” you lied as you set down your book, but he didn’t miss the way you winced slightly as he adjusted your hand to look at it again. 

The rest of your friends had scattered elsewhere at this point, the typical noise now having faded into a soft chatter of sorts. Hermione came back with a bowl of yellow liquid, eyeing you worriedly. “Strained and pickled Murtlap tentacles…these should help…”

“Oh…thank you…” You placed your hand into the bowl and immediately exhaled with relief. 

“I think I’m going to sleep a little early tonight…I’ll see you two at breakfast? Take it easy, Y/N,” Hermione gave your shoulder a squeeze. You nodded as she gave you one last smile and walked away. 

Once the pain had faded into a dull ache, you set the bowl of murtlap on the table and leaned back against the sofa. Fred was now laser-focused on something he was holding, fiddling with it using what looked like a small pair of tweezers. Assuming that it had to do with the joke shop he and George were working on, you paid it no mind, and picked up your copy of Guide to Advanced Transfiguration again. 

You were far too absorbed into your book to notice when Fred had slipped whatever that thing was onto your finger. It was cold to the touch but fit snugly. 

“D’you like it?”

“What is…” You put your book away and glanced down, about to say something half-sarcastic, but immediately stopped. 

It had to have been the most beautiful ring you had seen. Although it was slightly on the thinner side, it glittered brighter than any star you had ever seen. You twisted your hand this way and that as you watched the material catch the light. 

“...You know my ring size,” your voice trailed off as you took notice of the hopeful look in Fred’s eyes. “But what is this for? You know we’re—”

“For when the time comes,” he explained simply, raising your scarred right hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss there. His gaze on you remained steady and comforting in the same way that his presence made you feel. “You’ll wait for me, won’t you?”

Tears prickled at the edges of your eyes, and you nodded, feeling a sudden lump form in your throat. You were filled with a warmth that you knew had nothing to do with the blazing fire in front of you. “You know there’s no one else.”

How your best friend could make your chest ache in this way, you had no clue…For some odd reason, you thought, it wasn’t all that difficult to picture a future with him in it. 

Not when he was your future. You loved him, no doubt, but when it came to describing your exact relationship all words fell short. You were close friends, but was it in the same way that you and Hermione were friends? Or you and Ginny? 

But he’s my best friend, you told yourself. He’s been my best friend for over six years. 

But ‘best friends’ don’t make you feel the way that Fred does. 

Best friends went beyond just saving you a seat at the Great Hall if you woke up late for breakfast or slept through lunch because of a long nap. They didn’t pull you away on Hogsmeade trips and insist on hanging out with you one-on-one when you could very well just hang out together as one big group with all your friends. 

They definitely didn’t fashion you a ring by hand in the middle of one quiet fall night, but he did. 

“Earth to Y/N?”

“Hm…what?”

“You okay? You seemed a little spaced out there, love,” Fred raised a brow at you as he sat up, taking your hand in his. 

“Just…thinking,” you hummed, letting your head lean against his shoulder. He pulled you into his side at this, tenderly brushing his lips against your forehead. 

“About how I’m your favorite person on the planet and that I’m loads funnier than Georgie?”

“As if you’d ever be the only thing on my mind.”

Fred pouted, his bottom lip sticking out. “Ouch. That hurt.”

“I’m kidding,” you glanced up at him, pouting slightly. “You’ll never leave my mind. I’m holding you hostage.”

“And that’s a sentence I’d want to extend for as long as I could,” he responded. 

Voldemort's return and the premise of another war loomed overhead. But he found that when your warm hand slipped into his, body leaning in close, and your laughter ringing through the air like shooting stars, it was easy for him to forget. To fall into you and feel as if you're the only thing that mattered in this world because frankly, you were.

winter

There was one big thing to look forward to today: another Hogsmeade outing. The final weekend trip before Christmas was always a little bittersweet, but filled with the most pure joy. 

The Great Hall was decked out from ceiling to floor as it always was during the holiday season. Bits of snow delicately floated down from the crystalline ceiling as the classic giant Christmas tree stood tall behind the staff table. You stopped every few seconds to admire the decorations despite having been here for nearly seven years now and seeing (and even having helped one time) the grandiose setup.

Excited chatter filled every table as you went over to the Gryffindor table to sit with your friends. Ron was already piling his plate with food, grinning excitedly as he did so. 

“Where’s Fred?” you asked as you sat down next to George. 

“Already missing your lover boy?” the younger twin teased. “He’ll be down in a sec. The lazy arse overslept so Lee went to drag him down here.” 

“Oh, okay…” You paused for a moment. “Wait, he’s not my—”

You felt someone squeeze your shoulder behind you before pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head, stopping you from finishing your sentence. 

“Morning, my love,” Fred greeted casually as he slid into the spot next to you, seemingly oblivious to the stares he got from his gesture. “You sleep okay?”

“Merlin’s beard, Fred, when are ‘ou going ‘o admid it?” Ron groaned, in the middle of chewing his third drumstick. 

“Yeah, when?” Ginny echoed. “I’m going to hex you if you don’t.”

“Tell me what?” you tilted your head to the side as you glanced between them. 

“Oh, uh, nothing!” she said quickly. 

“Nothing!” Fred grinned sheepishly. Ginny sharply jabbed an elbow into his side. “OW!” 

You rolled your eyes, deciding not to question the odd exchange. 

Fred placed a soft hand on your thigh, using his other to swipe a croissant from your plate. 

“Hey!” 

“You know you love me,” he teased. 

“Shut up,” you muttered, feeling your face burn, a smile crept up on your face nonetheless. You continued eating, his hand remaining in place, and pretended like you didn’t mind what he was doing. 

You exited Hogwarts to flurries of snow blowing around, adjusting your hat and (Fred’s) scarf accordingly to protect your face from the biting winds. Hogsmeade was relatively quiet today, so you took every second you had to relish in the peace. 

“Godric, you’re freezing,” Fred’s bright smile turned into a slight frown when he noticed you were shivering, rubbing your gloved hands together. “Here.”

He shook off his coat and handed it to you, helping you put it on by holding the sleeves out. You let out an involuntary sigh of relief once the warmth enveloped your body.

“T-thanks, but aren’t you gonna get c—”

“Trust me, I’ll be alright,” he assured you, squeezing your hands. “Don’t want to get sick before Christmas, right?” 

You managed a nod, and he casually slung an arm across your shoulders. “You’re the best.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” he grinned. “Now come on, I think we have some drinks waiting for us.” 

As always, he had pulled you away from your friend group to “spend extra special time with the coolest and funniest girl in the world” and though you rolled your eyes at this, you allowed him to take the lead. (You weren’t complaining.)

Maybe it was the snow, maybe it was the added heat from Fred’s jacket, or maybe it was something else, but you were in an unusually good mood today. Fred noticed how you smiled more than usual, eagerly tugging his hand as you pulled him from shop to shop. 

“Y/N…you’ll drain my pockets,” he groaned as you stopped in front of Honeyduke’s, positively beaming. “And you’ll rot my teeth.”

“Please…?” you begged. “I’ll die if I don’t get a bag.”

“Y/N, love, come on…” But seeing the blissful and innocent twinkle in your eyes made it damn near impossible for him to say no. “Alright, fine. Pick out what you want, it’s on me.”

“You’re the best!” you squeezed his arm before heading into the shop together, hand in hand. “This is why I love you.”

“Ow? Placing my worth based on how many sweet treats I am willing to bestow upon you?” Fred feigned offense at your statement. “But it’s okay. I love you too.” 

Half an hour later, you were walking out of the sweet shop with a bag filled to the brim, and Fred was magically several Galleons lighter.

The two of you were only a three-minute walk from the castle grounds when the wind started to pick up. What was once a light snowy drizzle had suddenly turn into a full-blown blizzard, obscuring your vision for meters. 

“I can’t even—I can’t see a thing!” you yelled over the whipping winds, trying to shield your face. “Fred, where are you?” 

“Right behind you,” he murmured, circling an arm around your middle. “Don’t worry.” 

But then, you felt something cold and icy slip down your jumper. 

“Fred Weasley!” you yelled as he ran away, laughing with another clump of snow in hand. “You get back here right this instant before I kick your arse—” 

You lunged forward and went sprinting after him, well, as fast as you could through the thick blankets of snow. Fred’s laugh echoed through the frigid air as you rolled up a giant snowball and chucked it at him. It hit him square in the back and he nearly fell from the impact. 

The blizzard added an extra layer of difficulty, but you were determined to win by sheer talent and not take the easy way out with magic. 

Your arms began to ache from forming and throwing snowball after snowball, and you were sure that you’d be getting bruises all over your body (especially from one particularly hard hit between your shoulder blades when you’d been distracted). But seeing Fred so blissfully happy made it worth it—for a split second, you could pretend you were both thirteen again, no worries in the world except for beating each other in Quidditch. 

“Okay, this is so over!” you shouted as you chased him over a small hill and finally jumped on his back to tackle him, causing him to fall face first into the snow. 

“You absolute—” he began, voice muffled. “Ow.”

He fell silent for a few seconds and stopped moving, causing you to worry. “Freddie, you alright? Fred!”

After you panicked for a few more seconds, Fred finally flipped over, clutching his stomach as he laughed at you. “You actually thought I was hurt?” 

“It’s not funny!” you exclaimed in a high-pitched tone. Your face flushed as you realized you practically sitting on him and awkwardly shifted off, opting to kneel by his side as he sat up. “What if you actually were? I’d like to be the one that heals you, not hurts you, thank you very much!”

He smirked. “Aw, so you were worried about me. You care, don’t you?”

“Shut it, I do not,” you scoffed. 

His eyes trailed down your ring, which still shone so brightly, as you absentmindedly fiddled with it. 

“...I think you’re missing a little something, don’t you think? Or maybe it’s me that is,” he said so quietly that you almost missed what he’d said. “A diamond, perhaps….”

“A diamond?” your voice came out in the tiniest of whispers as well. “I think you’d look alright in a little silver…”

Fred then cupped your face in his hands, which forced you to look back up at him. He gently grazed his thumbs over your cheekbones and there was now what seemed like a look of longing in his bright hazel eyes. He’d always gazed at you admiringly but that was because he was your best friend, you told yourself (a lie that, time and time again, you’d try and fail over the years to convince yourself of). Best friends loved and cared for each other, that’s what they’re supposed to do. 

But here he was, making you feel things that a friend normally didn’t. And you didn’t even try to push him away because you didn’t want him to leave; you never wanted him to. 

He finally closed the ever-decreasing gap between you two and kissed you, capturing your lips in his. You buried a hand in his messy hair and pulled him closer; as close as you possibly could, desperate for the way he made you feel so alive because he was the one thing keeping you anchored to the ground. 

IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou, he says over and over. You swore you’d explode, feeling him smile against your lips, tugging you even closer. 

the in-between

The chasm of grief, so cold and uninviting, seemed to open up and swallow you whole. 

You hated war. You hated watching the blood of innocent people being shed by the ruthless works of evil. You hated that you had survived while so many you had grown to know and love didn’t. They’re just kids. They’re too young. They didn’t deserve to die the way they did. They’re just kids. They’re just kids. 

You weren’t sure how you even survived. 

As soon as you locked eyes with each other, you, Harry, Ron, Luna, Ginny, Hermione, Neville, Dean, Seamus, and Parvati collapsed into one giant hug on the floor, tightly clutching one another. You had all been incredibly lucky to have made it through together.

Fred’s eyes carefully scanned the room, searching for a familiar face. When he saw you there in the corner, eyes squeezed shut and clinging to your best friends, he wanted nothing more than to approach and comfort you. But he knew you all needed this time together—you had lost many loved ones, and they were some of the only family you had left. So he let you be, leaning against the wall and watching from afar. 

Over the next hour or so, people slowly started trickling out of the Great Hall—parents coming to pick up their kids, families reuniting—until it was just you, Harry, Hermione, Lupin, Tonks, Sirius, Fleur, and the Weasleys. There was an unspoken feeling of gratitude lingering in the air and you could sense the relief all-around. 

Your heart clenched as you watched Harry embrace his godfather. Your mother had died when you were young and your father had suffered a similar fate as the Longbottoms, so watching families reunite always sent a spear through your chest. 

“Hey,” you heard, feeling someone intertwine their fingers with yours. You didn’t need to look over to know it was Fred. “Sickle for your thoughts? Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

Leaning into him, you closed your eyes, attempting to will the tears away. “I don’t…I don’t know.  I just hate war. While I’m glad this is over, I can’t help but think how unfair it all is. People losing each other, being torn apart…Voldemort’s gone, I know, but it just feels like he took a part of me to the grave with him.”

“I hope it’s not the part that made you fall in love with me,” Fred joked, and the corners of your lips quirked up in a grin.

“Of course not…” you murmured, “you’d have to pry your heart out of my cold, dead hands to try and take it from me. I’m here now, whether you like it or not.”

“For good?” 

“For good,” you stated, reaching up to kiss him softly. “I love you.”

“And you know I love you more.”

epilogue (it’s a new spring with you)  

With the Dark Lord gone, there were many loose ends to tie up and much-deserved resting to do. You had stayed behind to help start with cleaning up the castle grounds, before deciding to take the Hogwarts Express back home all togehter—for old time’s sake. 

“What about the shop?” you asked George as you sat down between him and Fred. “Don’t you two need to be there?” 

“We reckon it’ll be just fine—it’s not just us there anymore, remember?” he said, “but, Freddie thought you were more important. That’s why we’re here.”

Resting your head against his chest, you gazed up at Fred and smiled. “You left for me?” 

“You know all that I do is for you,” he explained as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Ew my teeth, they’re going to rot from the cheesy sweetness,” Ron groaned. “You’d think that the war would wipe all that out.” 

“Oh shut it, Ronald,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Let them live.” 

You drifted off and slept through the entire ride home, feeling a tad bit more refreshed when pulling in to King’s Cross station. It was a blur from there: taking the Floo network, carrying bags, washing up, and whatnot. You felt as if you were on autopilot with a barely functioning Muggle battery. All you wanted was to collapse on the floor and sleep forever, but you wanted to sit around the living room floor with your friends and catch up like you always did during the summer. 

Lupin and Tonks had gone home to take care of Teddy while the rest of you were settling in. Chatter filled the Burrow as you spent time unpacking, and you found that you’d missed all the noise more than you initially thought. Dinner was an equally chaotic but also peaceful affair, filled with plenty of toasts, extra servings, and laughter, of course. 

While Sirius was busy telling the table about the Mauraders’ antics, Fred squeezed your hand, jerking his head behind him to indicate that he wanted to go out back. 

Now? What is it? you mouthed. 

Fred nodded. Yes, now, so come on. 

He took your hand and led you out the back door to the orchards, crescent moon shining overhead. A faint smile graced your face as you thought back to the days you spent together under the giant apple tree, reading stories from Hermione’s books to one another, skipping stones by the lake, and tending to the chickens. 

A familiar tune started drifting through the air, and Fred extended a hand towards you.

“May I have this dance?”

You were immediately hit with a wave of déjà vu at his question, and allowed him to sweep you up into his arms. He placed his hands on your waist and you felt sparks shoot up your spine at his touch. Your arms wound their way around his neck as you swayed to the melody, losing yourselves in a dreamy lullaby. Though you had done this with him before on several occasions, it still felt like you were falling in love all over again. 

You swallowed hard as you thought about how you had both been forced to grow up so fast. Moments like these—of pure bliss and childlike innocence—were far and few between, so they were to be greatly cherished. It was easy when he was twirling you around like this; effortlessly guiding your motions, to forget that anything and anyone else existed. 

Closing your eyes, you focused on the feeling of his warm hands through your sweater and the soothing sound of his soft hums, allowing them to carry you away. 

At one point, he briefly stops before spinning you outwards—but this time, he doesn’t pull you back in to catch you. You’re about to be confused but then, you turn around to see him down on one knee, a glittering diamond ring in hand. You froze in place, completely shocked. 

“A diamond, perhaps…” you echoed, recalling that one winter night when you had kissed him for the first time, feeling like your heart was going to explode out of your chest. 

“It’s always been you,” said Fred in a simple, soft tone of voice. “Always has been and always will be.”

Your eyes began to water. “You’re bloody kidding me…”

“Y/N, I know I joke around a lot—hell, I opened a whole shop with Georgie…but one thing I’ve never joked about is the way I feel about you.”

“Fred…”

“...Will you marry me?”

You opened and closed your mouth but no words seemed to come out. All you could manage was a small nod before tears fully blurred your vision and you stepped forward, hand shaking as he slid the diamond ring on. 

When his lips brushed against yours, time seemed to splutter to a stop, and you felt your weary heart slowly but steadily stitch itself back together. 

Except, he was the one holding the needle and telling you that there was no need to be anxious or scared because he’d be by your side for the rest of your life. 

So don't let me wait Come to me tenderly in the June night I stand at your gate And I sing you a song in the moonlight A love song, my darling A moonlight serenade

tags: @htchnr @arkofblake @xhanthexzoria @antriimx @pinkdaiisies @lovely-whale-is-lovely

[inside-lees-mind]

hey!! do u think u could write for sasuke, shikamaru, kiba, lee, neji, gaara, and/or sai with a clingy reader who gets jealous easily? love language is acts of service and quality time but she clings onto them a lot too. (feel free to change up the characters/add or omit anyone!! thank you!!)

Naruto Characters with a Clingy/Jealous S/O

Characters: Sasuke, Shikamaru, Kiba, Shino, Rock Lee, Neji, Sai, Gaara, and Kankuro

I wanna include Kankuro somewhere so don’t mind me squeezing him in frfr. Also ofc, I gotta add Shino.

Sasuke Uchiha

He’s acting cool. He’s acting real cool. Dark and mysterious.

You’re throwing that off, but if you’ve got him wrapped around your finger, he can’t seem to bring himself to shake you off.

You’re like throwing off the dark and mysterious with your energy, so he’s gonna act indifferent, maybe even irritated.

Best believe that he clings onto you right back at home. I don’t take criticism on this take.

If you get jealous easy… good luck.

Now he’s not feeding in to these other girls minds that he could somehow care to look their way, but these girls STILL stare at him with heart eyes.

Cue him just walking away from them, telling you to come on already.

He’s not entertaining their bullshit, so you two can go where they will leave you both alone :)!

Shikamaru Nara

Complains, complains, complains again.

“What a drag” “you’re so troublesome”

He’s blushing though, don’t let him lie. It’s obvious.

He secretly finds comfort in your constant clinging. And the way you like to spend time with him. And be around him constantly. You must really like him. He’s secretly flattered.

He just can’t open up so he’s never gonna tell you that.

He’s not really the type that women are just falling at his feet, so you won’t have to worry about being jealous so much.

If a girl on a mission does get a little too close though, he WILL distance himself from her. Don’t worry.

He’ll complain if you step in for him to help get the girl away, but he’ll be grateful for the help (silently, bc out loud he’s saying he can handle it himself)

Kiba Inuzuka

I don’t know why people think Kiba is some player or fuck boy. So I want to go ahead and clarify, I don’t think he would be. I think he’s actually got nervous teen boy crushing energy, no matter his age.

He’s clinging to you too. Lmfao.

Literally you two are attached at the hip, arm, shoulder, whatever. Attached.

Akamaru is always with you two though, but who doesn’t love Akamaru?!

He gets jealous too.

You two are probably unbearable bc listen, hope for everybody’s sake you aren’t as jealous as he is.

If a man looks in your direction, he will whine for the rest of the night.

That being said, he is not accusing you of entertaining or doing anything, he’s just complaining about the guys audacity to even look in your direction.

Shino Aburame

DO NOT LET THIS MAN LIE TO YOU. He gets jealous.

Like petty kinda jealous. He’s a petty mf.

So you are not alone if you get jealous.

He’s also physically clingy behind closed doors, but ONLY behind closed doors.

He asks that you not hang off him like a koala in front of everybody, but he’ll perhaps hold your hand.

He’s clingy in a less physical way. He needs you to stay close to him most of the time, just be there. So if you like quality time, this the guy for you.

Back to jealously, this is the only reason I could ever foresee him being even a little toxic. He trusts you fully, but give a little bit too much attention to somebody and he’ll convince himself he’s like not your first choice and you forgot him like everybody else did.

So he’s more jealous than you, without a doubt in my mind.

Honestly, he takes time and effort to convince to settle down and get out of his own head.

Neji Hyuga

Not a PDA person. I think he might be willing to like hold hands. Accept a kiss on the cheek or something. But really, he wouldn’t be all TOO found of being literally clinged to.

However, he does like to have you around. So if you are just the clingy type in regards to being around them all the time, he’s okay with that.

He wants to be around you too.

He’s not the jealous type himself, and he probably won’t really notice that you’re jealous.

I don’t think he’d appreciate somebody other than you being all over him though, so you don’t have to worry much. He’ll tell a person straight up, no sugarcoating, to get away from him.

If you complain about somebody’s actions later, he’ll realize you were jealous. He’ll probably ask why if he told them off anyways. After a conversation, he’ll probably just reassure you that he will continue to tell people off.

Nobody touches him but you.

Rock Lee

HES SO MFING CLINGY

PHYSICALLY AND JUST IN GENERAL.

He talks about you all the time to everybody he can. He’s constantly telling people that you’re his partner. Bragging about you.

And since you’re clingy and he’s clingy, you’re probably right there by his side as he does this.

If for some reason, he doesn’t get a chance or remember to introduce you in some flamboyant, glamorous, extra way, and somebody tries to make a pass at him, he won’t notice they’re flirting unless it’s OBVIOUS.

So cue your jealously.

He would be the type to literally push somebody away and say some shit like “I’m flattered, but I have a gorgeous, amazing partner already.”

Sai Yamanaka

(I call him Sai Yamanaka bc it creates a bigger line for the name btw, he’s not married in this case)

He does not mind you constantly clinging to him or following him around. Not in the slightest.

That is because he likes you, so he wants to be around the person he likes, after all. (Sai, yall are dating. That’s obvious, you don’t have to say it)

He probably follows you around a lot because he thinks he’s supposed to. And also, he finds that he likes to be around you.

He might do something a book told him to, get too close to another person, paying no mind to any like reason it could be wrong. He didn’t mean it that way.

And since we’ve established you’re the jealous type, you’d have to explain to Sai that he can’t just get too close to other people like that.

Gaara of the Sand

He doesn’t mind the clinging, but he doesn’t have the time for it :/

When you can cling to him or follow him around without interfering with his focus and work, he’s perfectly okay with it.

And he’ll find himself wishing that when he’s busy, he wasn’t so you could be with him.

A lot of the girls in the village have a crush on him now that he’s kazekage, so you’re bound to be pretty jealous.

But Gaara doesn’t let these girls near him. He’s polite with them, but he’s not entertaining anything at ALL.

You don’t have to worry with him. He’s as loyal as can be.

At home, he’s clinging to you too. He’s touch starved.

And he loves to spend his free time with you.

Kankuro of the Sand

Cling to him in public like a koala. He’s not complaining. He’s BRAGGING.

PLEASE.

He’s the type to tease you about it, but if you break away from him because of it he’ll complain bc WHERE ARE YOU GOINGGG?

He would purposely make you jealous. Within reason. He will not disrespect your relationship to do so. But if he knows something simple could make you jealous, like giving too much attention to a stuffed animal, he will do it on purpose

“You wish this was you, huh?”

He’d like it if you wanted to just come sit in his workshop with him while he works on puppets. He’ll talk when he’s not like SUPER focused.

[hatsukeii]

god, love's fuckin' embarrassing! / bsf!suna rintarou x reader

genre(s): fluff + a bit of crack, bsf to lovers, mutual pining, mutual DENIAL SMH, set in pre-timeskip second/third year, "love is embarrassing" x "love is embarrassing", suna lowkey is a sleazy heartthrob who just gets girls, fumbling his feelings in front of a baddie but it...works???

warning(s): dirty jokes, "suna ur a p3do" jokes and punchlines (he's not), and a kys joke LMFAO, also just INSANE/irrational behaviour from diff girls out of obsession/lovesickness because i have defs! met people like that... but other than those nothing! gn reader too i THINK if it's not lmk i'll fix it :)

wc: ~3.3k

tldr; suna rintarou swears he gives up, because love is just so fucking embarrassing. i mean, seriously, what kind of guy is placing all his bets on his best friend that he's definitely, totally, 100% not in love with? (he is.)

Suna Rintarou arrives at your house approximately fifteen minutes later than he agreed to. When he walks in with your spare key, you’re already on the couch, legs propped up on the armrest and back pushed into the plush seats as you scroll on some random forum. He takes aim, and tosses your spare key from the doorway, hoping it hits you in the face. You drop your phone at the same time, and it ends up bouncing off the case and onto the ground. 

“Asshole.” You yell from the couch while reaching to claw at your keys, just loud enough for him to hear, but not loud enough to wake the rest of your household. “You said you’d be here by ten to debrief. Was she that bad?” 

Suna frowns, something you, fortunately, don’t notice. You’ve regained control of your phone now, moving on from your forum to your photo album. Through the reflection of the television, his figure is blurry, but approaching. The fabric behind your head dips when he flips onto your couch, legs hanging from the headrest and head lolling off the seat. You finally find what you were looking for, shoving your phone into his face. 

“The scale? Seriously?...Solid nine-point-five. Not a ten, though. Redeeming factor was that she had big tits, but that wouldn’t have mattered anyways, because she’s fifteen.” You drop your phone on his nose. It slides off his face and onto the ground again. 

“Fucking gross, Rintarou. You’re so gross. This is why you can’t keep any girl for longer than one hour.” 

Pushing himself up, he plucks your phone from the ground, and tosses it onto your stomach. With the rate that he’s been going at, Suna doesn’t think he wants to keep anyone for longer than one hour. Sure, casual flirting is exciting. Hookups don’t sound half bad either. But the next time that Suna  catches somebody he’s never spoken to with a love letter in their hands, he swears he will run into the nearest vehicle. It’s not to say that Suna Rintarou wants to be a prude for the rest of his life, no, not at all. He just doesn’t want to spend half an hour chasing someone off his tail again, for the fifth time in his life. 

“Not my fault they think I’d appreciate them casting love spells and carving my name into their walls.” He glances at your grossed-out grimace, and nods knowingly, a nod that says yeah, it’s been that bad. “I’d rather die alone if that’s what I end up doing while in love.” 

You snicker, turning your entire body so your legs rest on the seats of the couch and your back leans against the armrest. Suna eyes your shirt up and down, frowning at the old, but persistent coffee stain that refuses to wash off. He doesn’t think he’s ever getting that shirt back, but he’s okay with that. He wasn’t going to ask anyways. “She was not in love with you, Rin. Stop being an egotist.” 

Something goes off in the kitchen, and Suna suddenly notices how his nose tingles at smells of burnt sugar and butter in the air. You hop off the couch, disappearing into the kitchen only to return with a bowl that Suna thinks might be bigger than your chest- your head. When you set the bowl down on the fabric between your crossed legs, and stuff handfuls of popcorn into your mouth, he sighs. There’s no running from this after all. 

“So? What’s the Mitsuki level warning?” You raise your brow expectantly, the same way that you do at every debrief session, which Suna never fails to show up late to. Thankfully, that usually gives you more time for the everything shower, because the sessions also never fail to carry on through the night, and into the next day.

Ah, Mitsuki, his recurring nightmare. In hindsight, Suna should have known better than to try anything with her, of all people. For fuck’s sake, she drew gore of pre-existing couples, and posted them publicly with pride. “Not that bad, my god. You think she was a villain or something? It was only, like, cried and told me that I must be in love with someone else level bad.” For the record, that’s not even a level 1 warning on the Mitsuki scale. You roll your eyes, mouthing booooo with popcorn stuffed in your cheeks and sticking a buttery thumb down. The horrors that you’ve had the displeasure of hearing about are enough to turn anybody away from love. In fact, they’re enough to undo the security of happily married parents, and an unproblematic friend group at school, and the fact that Suna Rintarou has been looking a little too decent recently. You chalk it up to him finally cutting the stupid hair short.

Suna’s hand invades the popcorn bowl, picking for the glossiest piece. He knows it’s in there, somewhere, the piece with the best butter to caramel ratio, the one that you always find before he does when he shares a bucket with you at the movies. To his disappointment, it is once again, gone. He settles for one that has enough butter, and pops it into his mouth. You throw a dry piece at his face. He eats that one too. 

“Keep going? I need to update my catalogue of your botched dates.”

“It wasn’t even a date!” You throw another piece of popcorn at his face, and this time, he chucks it back at you. “I agreed to show her around the area tonight because she asked, and I was assigned to her, of all the new first years! I didn’t think she would break down when I said no to hooking up now, did I?” You snicker, pointing accusingly at Suna and wiggling your finger. Then, you sign directions- directions he knows all too well from telling you too much about lovesick underclassmen whose feelings go unrequited. Out the door, to the left, straight for three blocks, take a right, it’s the blue sign ahead. It’s the police station. He claws at a handful of popcorn and throws it at you while you hold your stomach and cackle. 

“I’m gonna kill you, I swear.”

“Nah, you love me too much.”

“Bullshit, I don’t.” Any type of love is too embarrassing for Suna Rintarou to be in, whether it’s what his parents have, or whatever Atsumu has got going on with that foreign chick from “another school,” or if it’s throwing popcorn at him in his old Gorillaz t-shirt, which he is still, never getting back. “Kill yourself. I hate you. If you have one hater, it’s me. I’m your biggest opp.” Yes, of course he hates when you pull this shit, because it’s not like he’s glad that underclassmen ogle over him on the daily. How is he supposed to explain that firstly, he doesn’t want to catch a case, and secondly, he thinks they’re tainting the very concept of love by embarrassing themselves like that?

You put a halt to your mindless laughter and gasp, eyes widening and pointer finger shooting up in front of you. “Whoa there!” The feigned altruism of your voice makes Suna wish he was actually dead. See? No love here. One for Suna, none for love. “Hate is a strong word, Rin. You shouldn’t hate, you should love! Love thy neighbours! Love wins!” Popcorn crumbs line his t-shirt now, and Suna clicks his tongue, running a hand over the plasticky print. It’s in pristine condition, spare for the splotch of brown, conveniently placed in one of the four white areas on the shirt. You swat his hand away, throwing a coy smirk in his direction as you shake the fabric to let the crumbs fall off. He tries to wince, holding back the muscles in his cheeks from moving the wrong way and smiling, and a pained smoulder comes as a result. Better than a smile, especially when you’re prodding at him to choose love. That would have been embarrassing, and very, very hard to explain.

“Love does not win.” Suna turns on the television now, your muted reflections turning to colour as some reality show drones on. Oh look, it’s Love Island, where all the female leads are a little stupid, and the male leads are trying unnecessarily hard not to think with their dicks. “It’s sad, and half the time girls that say they’re in love with me end up running away crying because of it.” 

You hum, questionably. Is that what he thinks love is? Well, yes, it’s sad, obviously. Embarrassing too. You’ve seen it in the sappy texts that your freshly-dumped friends foolishly shoot to their cheater exes, and heard it in Suna’s many escapades, including, but not limited to being car-chased by Mitsuki onto your poor neighbour’s lawn, which they still haven’t managed to get fixed. Still, it always wins, because somebody else thinking they’re in love with Suna means that you get to hear all about them for hours on end, and then try to convince him that there’s obviously somebody better, or at least sane, that's around the corner, ready to love him normally. Not you though, because that’s, again, embarrassing. Although you admit that you wouldn’t mind if he ever asked. 

“I told you, Rin, they’re not in love with you. They’re obsessed, it’s different.” 

Suna shrugs, blowing a raspberry. He doesn’t think you know what you’re talking about, because if you ever needed him to, Suna Rintarou would undoubtedly lay his life down for you, no questions asked. If you ever wanted another shirt, he’d give you his collection, then buy you more if that still isn’t enough. He’d let you off the hook for snatching the best piece of popcorn in the bucket from him, and settle for the butter pieces with only bits of caramel on the edges. Hell, he’d even swallow his ego, and just date you if it helped you with anything. But he would rather die than hand you a love letter stamped shut with red wax, or push you up against a locker in the middle of school rush hour, and has never, in his life, wanted to watch you sleep through a bedroom window like Mitsuki has to him. Obsession, in the name of love, is sorely inapplicable to Suna Rintarou. Therefore, he must be romantically inept. It’s okay, he accepts it. 

“I don’t see a difference. How could you?”

Your mind blanks at his question, unsure how to explain to Suna that somebody screaming I love you! with a DSLR camera full of his photos, taken of him in secret, in places that nobody but he should know, is nothing close to love. When you reach for the coffee table and place the half empty bowl of popcorn down, you catch his expression. His eyes are half-lidded, glossed over, staring tiredly at the television. You almost let it slip that you feel a bit sad for him. 

“You’re kidding. Okay, give me a scenario, anything.” He hesitates, bouncing his leg up and down and tapping his finger against the seat of the couch. His eyes dart towards you, who are staring at him. He doesn’t look away.

“Alright, what would you do if you loved someone?”

In normal circumstances, you’d probably tell them, nothing. When Suna Rintarou is sitting beside you on your couch, however, it’s different. You think, looking at the ceiling to avoid any and all eye contact.

“Well, for starters, I wouldn’t try to fight their best friend.” You blurt out, remembering the black eye you suffered as a result of telling Mitsuki off for showing up at Suna’s doorstep in nothing but lingerie. “And I’d be okay taking a black eye for them anyways, it’s just not a nice experience.” Suna nods introspectively, looking back to the television. Nope, still Love Island, but it’s enough to occupy his scrambling mind. You continue.

“I mean, flowers are kind of embarrassing, and I kinda hate them, but if they wanted to give me flowers, I’d pretend to like them. Maybe try to keep them alive too.” By ascending the stairs to your room, you would see a single rose in a vase. It’s half-wilted, the water level decided with uncertainty a year ago when Suna thought it was funny to give you the rose from one of his secret admirers on Valentine’s day. “If they loved me though, they would know that I hate flowers.” See? Not love again, two for Suna, none for love, because Suna gave you the rose knowing that you hate flowers. 

“I’d take lots of consensual photos of them, anytime, and everywhere.” Suna knows that you have an entire album, filled with god awful, non-consensual photos of him. That means you don’t love him, which is good! Because he doesn’t either, even if he also has an album of unflattering, non-consensual photos of you. Suna’s favourite is one that is actually quite flattering, where you’re leaning up against the handle of a shopping cart, and reaching for a bottle of mayonnaise on a rack. Non-consensual, unbeknownst to you, but he thinks you’d like it if he showed you. “Keep them in a cute little folder or something too.”

“Are you sure you’re not in love with anyone? Because you seem to know way too much.”

“I think s-” Stopping abruptly, you bite your tongue before the next words have a chance to come out. “I think I’m open to it.” You stretch, and your foot pokes into Suna’s side. He grabs it, sitting closer, and pulls you down until your legs rest on his own, which are now bouncing uncontrollably. 

“Okay, good to know. What’s your type, then?”

Your hands reach behind your head, cushioning it as you lie on the headrest. “Someone funny. And sane. Good looking too, but that’s a bonus.” No, this is bad. It’s two for Suna, but one for love, because Suna Rintarou is sane. Love Island on the television erupts into a flurry of applause, and when the two of you look at the screen, two people are kissing. One of them opens their mouth too much, and it clearly freaks the other person out. “Oh, and somebody who doesn’t kiss like…that.” You nudge Suna’s chest with your knee. “What about you? First year freshmen?” He pokes the side of your stomach, right where the coffee stain sits on his t-shirt. 

“Fuck you.” His curses drone off, lost in thought. Does he want somebody tall? Short? Somebody who plays volleyball like him? No, that’s not it. He looks back at you, whose eyes are still trained onto the television. He thinks he should take another photo of you, one that he thinks you’d like just as much as the shopping cart one. It’ll be a lot of effort, trying to reach for his phone in his pocket with your legs over his own, but it’ll be worth it. “I just want somebody who won’t try to climb through my bedroom window at three in the morning.” Now that he says it out loud, it sounds like the bare minimum. “And maybe someone who actually wants me around, even if I’m not romantic or whatever.” You look back at Suna, and suddenly you’re putting every single person that’s ever confessed their love to shame just by being his best friend of four years, sitting beside him like you always have. Fuck, it’s two for Suna, and three for love. He’s not sure where the extra point came from, but he probably deserves it. “I think I just want somebody who loves me. Like, actually loves me.”

“What, you finally get it?”

“Yeah, I think I do.” Suna rubs at his gradually reddening face with both of his clammy palms. You smile, because you’re not sad for him anymore. Your best friend is finally starting to see that love isn’t being chased by a car, or being cornered with a letter, or even being kissed on the cheek by girls who barely know him, but somehow think they’re in love with him. “This is so fucking embarrassing. Oh my god. Love is so fucking embarrassing.” 

“I know, Rin. It’s nice though, I think, when you’re in love.” Your words drift off into the air of your living room, and although you're punching yourself in your head, you come to the acknowledgement that you might just be in love with Suna Rintarou. Love really sets you up to embarrass yourself, especially when you realise it at a time like this.

“Have you been?”

You don't nod, and his stomach drops, because Suna Rintarou is pretending that he wants to make fun of whatever comes out of your mouth next, but hoping for you to say his name. Two for Suna, four for love.

“I probably am right now, but who am I to say? I know nothing more than you do. People don’t even go for me, which saves me the trouble.” You shrug helplessly. If love doesn’t come your way, then so be it. There’s nothing more embarrassing than putting out more than you get, which is exactly what you would do for only one person in the world.

“They would.” 

“You serious?” Suna nods, legs coming to rest. “Proof, right now, or it didn’t happen.” It’s about to end horribly, and Suna Rintarou might never live this down, but he’s lost four-two to love, so placing all his bets on this is now obligatory. 

“Okay, go out with me. I’ll take you somewhere nice.” You freeze, sitting upright. Your body is still as stone, legs still on Suna’s, which are shifting so he can turn and face you.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He doesn’t miss the grin that creeps onto your face. It’s a good sign, he thinks. A sign that you do, in fact, love him back, one way or another. 

“Well, I’m funny, and I’m sane. That’s what you want, right?” Yes, that is what you want. In fact, upon closer consideration, Suna Rintarou is exactly what you want. Who would’ve guessed? Best friend of four years, like you thought, just around the corner. 

“You would be correct. And I want you around, always, even if you don’t like romance, which is what you want, right?” Suna nods, because that is exactly what he wants. 

“Okay, and you…actually love me, and are not just trying to see what boxers I’m wearing, right?” Your eyes dart between his own, and you think about the time Mitsuki somehow managed to steal Suna’s boxers after breaking into his house at three in the morning, before she was chased out and had the restraining order filed against her. No, you’d never stoop that low. Plus, you already know from shuffling through Suna’s closet for all these years, stealing t-shirts off of him. T-shirts that you still wear on rotation to bed, sometimes to go out. You don’t tell him about your friends asking you whether they’re your boyfriend’s shirts, and how you would respond, I wish, idiots.

“I do actually love you, Rintarou. Plus, I think I’d rather not see your boxers again, thanks. And if we go out, you’ll figure out whether you’re in love with me as well, and we can work with that.” The credits roll on the television, and it cuts to an episode preview. Suna looks at you, and he thinks maybe, just maybe, if you ever wanted him to, he’d show up to your doorstep, not just with more of his band t-shirts, but with handwritten love letters tied into a stack too. 

“Nah, I know I love you. We can skip the date and just get together.”

author's note:

watch me post this at 2am sydney time and then get annoyed when no one sees it because 2am is a cursed time for me.... JOKES i don't care because i loved writing this so sosoossoos much and im putting it out as soon as im finished but THANK YOU FOR READING TILL THE END!!! i have a newfound love for suna rintarou thanks to all the research i did on his character both fanon and canon he's so me frl i need to have a suna in my life ngl... I HOPE THIS LIVED UP TO YOUR EXPECTATIONS THO!!! genuinely one of my favourites that I've written thus far

anyways tags!!!

@chuuya-brainrot @zzwon @akaakeis @blvewave @kongkhoi @hiraethwa @kuroppiii @catsoupki @laughingfcx @tulip-room @fiannee @bailey-reeds @wyrcan @wishi-selfships

ok love u all bye bye until next time

[luveline]

Please a Hotch (new girl dad LMFAO) little fic where he discovers the joys and wonders of being a girl dad 😭🤍 like dressing up and playing tea party, or ‘honey, what do I put in her hair?? A bow? A ribbon?? A headband?? A clip??’ Or something about their baby girl always running to him when she bumps her head or falls!! I think it would be really cute

“Do you mind?” you ask through giggles. 

Aaron rubs his hand up the length of your stomach. It tickles in a strange way, but you’re laughing because he’s cornered you on the couch. He takes up the entirety of your view, the air hot between your close faces. 

“No,” he says simply. He has big hands, warm hands. They leave heat in their wake where they touch you. 

“No, come on. I can’t see Jane.” You’re mostly kidding. You really can’t see Jane, but she’s about three feet away, and your living room is baby proofed.

Aaron peeks behind his shoulder. His smile says more than words —he must have caught her smiling herself. “You okay, honey?”

“Yes. Okay. Okay?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m okay, I’m just giving mommy some kisses.” Aaron strokes your stomach with a loving thumb. “You want to come over here for a cuddle?” 

Jane doesn’t answer. Aaron turns back to you with a glowing smile. “She’s very happy. Now let me kiss you–” You’re laughing again as he kisses you, your cheek, the high point and the end of your brow. 

“I can’t believe you’ve cornered me,” you say, nudging him away to hold his face in your hands. “It’s too warm in here for this, you need to give me some space.”

“I don’t want space from you,” he jokes, matching your playful tone.

“Daddy!” Jack calls from somewhere deeper in the house. “I need help!”

“With what?” he calls, sitting up and away from your touch. He squeezes your leg as he leaves, his voice echoing against the hallway walls, “Jack? What’s the problem, buddy?” 

He waits for an answer he doesn’t get before heading upstairs. You weren’t lying when you said it was too hot for kisses —the winter chill is pervasive and Jane is vulnerable to the cold, so the heat is high and the Hotchner boys are pink in the cheeks every time you see them. You fan your face, tracking Jane’s clumsy waddling as she ferries a pink teddy bear next to her baby doll beside the picnic blanket you’d laid out for her. 

“Having fun, Janey?” you ask. 

“Baba,” she mumbles. 

“Alright, that’s fun. How about I go make us some dinner?” 

“Babababa…” 

“Bababa,” you say back. 

You set about cleaning the mess she’s making before it can explode and prop the door between the living room and the kitchen open to watch her while you peel some potatoes. She plays happily for a while, and upstairs you can hear the celebratory shouts of the boys having figured something out. “Come have some juice before you do the next part,” Aaron says. 

With a sudden bump and a telling silence, Jane falls over. You drop your potatoes and wipe your hands on your front, prepared to sweep her up in your arms and coo away any tears. Her crying rings like a storm siren, so loud you miss the rush of footsteps down the stairs. 

“Baby,” you say softly, holding out your arms as you approach. Aaron and Jack trickle into the room behind her. “Let mommy see? What did you do, huh?” 

She climbs onto her feet. You don't even realise she’s looking away from you until she’s running at her father’s legs, completely ignoring your offered embrace. “Oh, sweetheart,” Aaron says, bending down to meet her. “What did you do? You hurt yourself? Let me have a look. Let me see.” 

Your chest is a pit, that falling feeling as though you’ve missed a step, but the open joy on Aaron’s face soothes any jealousy quickly. “What did you do?” he asks again, lifting his head to accommodate her little body as she wraps her arms and legs around him. He picks her up. She looks small under his chin. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” 

Jack weaves around him to hug your thigh. “Did she fall?” he asks. 

He can come to you for anything, big or small, just like Jane can go to her father. You ruffle his soft hair with a smile. “She’s just shocked when things don’t feel nice because she’s so little. It probably didn’t hurt very much, okay? Don’t worry.” 

“Don’t listen to mommy,” Aaron murmurs, patting what looks like the entire span of Jane’s back with a barely opened palm, “I’m sure it hurt lots and lots.” 

“Dad,” she mumbles tearily.

Aaron gives you the look. One he does all too often when he’s feeling grateful for the things he has, his brow pinched into a gentler furrow than usual. “I know, honey. That floor is so mean, always hurting you. I think we should get some soft carpets instead, what do you think?” 

Jack tugs on your hand. “Can you make me some apple juice, please? I think he will be here for a while.” 

You’re thinking there’ll be carpets fitted in here within the month. “Sure, babe. You wanna help me make some French fries?” 

[vxnuslogy]

– in between missions.

pairing: sunday x gn!reader

premise: it's been an eventful six months since sunday joined the stellaron hunters. today marked one of their very rare day offs, and what better way to spend the day with the people that's taken care of him.

– warnings: slight angst if you squint, mentions of blood in some parts.

– author's note: updated the lore in this little mini-series (?) LMAOO thank you sunday leaks on sunday for bringing me back to life. so sorry for being a bit ia, tumblr has been such a pain in the ass that it slightly demotivated me to write. new layout for sunday fics too so yippie!! (totally not foreshadowing). art credits to 冒火锅海台 on Weibo for the art. | 4.1k words (LMFAO).

MORNING — 6:00 A.M.

before, sunday would wake up at the crack of dawn; waiting for the sun’s rays as he watered the plants he’d been taking care of. now –he still wakes up earlier than most– he spends his mornings in a big kitchen with the sound of kafka’s humming filling the bubbles of silences that start to form. it was always a pleasure helping the older woman cook everyone’s breakfast without having their loud bickering in the background (though sometimes he would grow paranoid if he never heard it throughout the day; he’s grown used to your voices).

before missions started, all the petty quips, and the laughter, sunday appreciated the quiet moments he gets to share with kafka.

“sunny, can you take over for me? i need to defrost silver wolf’s nuggets.”

sunday only hummed in response. body lazily slipping itself into kafka’s previous position of frying the leftover rice from yesterday. “sunny” was the woman’s name for him; a form of endearment, you said, she does it to everyone. sunday would never admit it himself (kafka often teased how adorable his morning voice was so he tried not to speak until after breakfast), but hearing that little nickname always sent a flurry of little butterflies down to his chest. collecting the pollen from the flowers you’ve carefully placed in between his ribs and spreading it all over his chest. no one has ever given him such a casual nickname before, so sunday had started to cling to it like a lifeline.

when the clock strikes 7:30, it usually means you're about to wake up. after patting his hands dry on a spare kitchen towel, sunday lifts his head and there you are. a small smile spread across his lips when you greeted kafka with a side hug. you still had your bed hair and your eyes were barely open; it was an endearing sight to see.

“good morning,” sunday snaps out of his daze when an arm wraps around his shoulder and pulls him close to your chest. sunday could distinctly smell the chocolate you ate with silver wolf the night before and the soft remnants of your scented candle. he let his head lean more into your touch as he mumbles a soft good morning straight to your heart. ignoring the pair of eyes that crinkle in amusement behind the kitchen counter.

by the time 7:50 rolls around, you’re fully awake. a cup of coffee in your hands as you, him, and kafka go door to door to wake up your little group. from the corner of sunday’s eyes, he sees kafka peer over blade’s door and a grumpy okay go through. on the other end, he sees you greet firefly good morning with a hug before disappearing into another hall to come and get elio. 

before he could even knock on silver wolf’s door, the wooden thing pulled open and he was met with the sight of the silver haired girl looking down at her game console. he chuckled in amusement, patting down the stray hairs that poked up and guided her to the kitchen. he made sure to ask if she’s beaten the boss yet and when she replied with an angry huff, sunday took it as a sign to not bring it up for a while.

it's already 8:10 when everyone is sitting down around the kitchen table. plates of warm fried rice, chicken nuggets, some slices of fruits, pancakes, and multiple cups of teas and coffees were laid down on the table. small chatter started to arise and sunday could feel the energy start to spike as well. as he took bite after bite until he felt your knee bump into his. when he turned to you, he was met with the sight of you pushing more food in his direction.

“you need to eat more,” you said before taking a bite of your pancake. “you’ll need the extra nutrients if you want to fly again.”

sunday just smiled and accepted your offerings without as much as a word.

roughly an hour passes before everyone is cleaning up their spaces. blade was on dishes duty while the rest went back to their rooms to get changed. sunday was in his quarters, buttoning up a spare polo blade had given him when he heard a knock on his door.

“good morning again.” you greet with a smile.

sunday smiled in return and urged you to come in. “good morning to you, too.”

“kafka and firefly are going out for groceries. do you want anything?”

sunday was taken back to the days where he would water the plants in his office back in the penacony. how he would run his finger down each leaf and smile to himself when a flower starts to bloom. if sunday only joined a few weeks ago, he’d declined immediately. but it's been almost half a year since he’s joined, and he’s feeling a bit more comfortable with asking for more personal things.

“plants,” he replies. “the small ones that are easy to take care of.”

you tilt your head curiously like an owl. “why plants?”

“i used to take care of some flowers back in dewlight pavilion every morning. i’d like to get back into that, if you don’t mind.”

sunday recognized that little smirk of yours. with a shake of his head, he accompanies you out his room after fixing up his hair and bid farewell to kafka and firefly.

“let’s get you all the plants you want then.” 

AFTERNOON — 2:38 P.M.

training in the afternoon was something sunday didn’t get quite used to. even now as he’s exchanging blows with blade, he feels quite unsure of his grip around the hilt of the wooden sword; how his footwork felt sloppy and uncoordinated. sunday wasn’t shocked (maybe, just slightly, a bit bitter) when the dark haired man knocked him off his feet for the seventh time in under two hours.

“you’re overthinking things too much,” the man grumbled, offering his hand to him. “it’s written all over your face; stop thinking about the nitty gritty things and start focusing on the task at hand. if you keep focusing on your opponent's footwork, you’ll end up ignoring his swings.”

“right, apologize. let’s go again.”

sunday had never felt such a competitive surge of emotions come over him whenever he trained with blade. the way he swung the charred sword in his hands; his body and how it moved so fluidly like water; and his determination to win despite beating him by more than a mile; it made sunday want to genuinely get better. blade fought like it would be his last battle, and he would go down with a fight.

“mister is getting better,” muttered silver wolf as she collapsed face first by your side, finishing her own training with elio. “he’s keeping up with the old man now.”

you brush away the bangs that stuck to her forehead and offer her a towel. elio, now in their cat form, sat down on your other side and started playing with the orange peels. “sunday has improved a lot huh? it feels like it was just yesterday when he first joined.”

“for reals.” the silver haired girl stretched and tried to reach over for the oranges.

a memory resurfaced in sunday’s mind when he caught sight of you peeling oranges for silver wolf. how you looked particularly at peace in the moment. his mind replayed the image of robin when she came back to penacony after the accident. he had such an intense amount of guilt for not being by her side at such a hard time, he isn't quite sure how to put it into words. 

“brother!” shouted robin as she entered his office, a bright smile on her face and her phone in hand.

before he could utter a word she had shoved her phone to his face, “an orange?” he asked with a confused tilt of his head.

robin nodded and said, “they say when someone close to you peels your oranges, it's a sign of having a strong relationship! is that why you’ve been peeling my oranges for me recently?”

sunday felt the wind be knocked out of him as his world turned upside down. blade had flipped him over to his back and as the cherry on top, whacked him on the head with his wooden sword. 

“for not paying attention,” he grumbled. “let’s call it a day.”

he didn’t get much of a word in when blade was already seated beside silver wolf (the girl shoving an orange slice to his mouth and him accepting it silently). sunday gets up from his lying position, patting down the dust on his (blade’s) clothes and takes a seat next to you. 

“do you mind opening your wings for me?” you ask as you place a small plate of orange slices on his lap.

taking one in his hand and a small bite, he lets the pair of wings by his waist stretch out and lay on your lap. your careful fingers and observant eyes scanning over every feather, smoothing out the ones that stuck out. it wasn’t long before silver wolf put down her console and started poking at his wings too.

“do you feel that, mister?” she asks.

he shakes his head with a small smile, “no, i do not.”

she only hummed and looked up at you. “will he be able to fly soon?”

you take a few seconds to respond.

“soon,” you mutter as your hands re-adjusted the exoskeleton that’s been supporting them. “they look better than when you first arrived. you seem rather curious, what gives?”

silver wolf pouted and shoved at you lightly. your chuckle rang in his ears like music. the same melodies he would play on his record player when the night feels too long. sunday leaned more to your side when the younger girl showed a pixelated character in her game and pointed to its wings. 

“when you fly again, mister, you have to take me with you!” she excitedly exclaimed with stars in her eyes. “i’ve always wanted to know what it feels like to fly.”

sunday felt a tug deep within his heart when he looked into her eyes. silver wolf, surprisingly, was very welcoming of him when he first joined. they got along fine and would even spend their free time in each other’s company. her excited demeanor reminded him of how robin looked when he first took to the skies. the animated expression on her face; her grin reaching her eyes; and the way she’s leaning forward in anticipation.

“when i fly again, i’ll be sure to let you know first.”

his reply was all the more worth it when the girl jumped in delight and landed on blade’s back. your laughter along with silver wolf’s excited blabbering and even blade’s protests made more flowers bloom inside his chest. sunday ceased his chuckling when he realized he had run out of oranges to eat. before he could even ask for more you’re already replacing his empty one with a new plate filled with peeled oranges.

“i can peel them myself, [name].” he says almost in a whisper.

“i know you can,” you dangle the orange peel in front of elio and let them play with it and stack them in a pile. “but let me do it for you.”

EVENING — 6:00 P.M.

“it’s my turn to decide what we get to eat!”

“it’s been your turn for two weeks. if anything, it’s my turn now.”

sunday could only push the two further and further apart, or at least try too. blade was a foot taller than him and obviously more bulked up than him; silver wolf might be the shortest but she knows how to use it to her advantage, zooming from one place to another like a little mouse. he could only plead with a lopsided smile when you enter the kitchen, your towel around your neck to catch the stray waters that dropped from your hair.

you sighed with the shake of your head and pulled silver wolf back into your chest. two arms snugly wrapped around her small shoulders as she kicked and pointed at blade. sunday on the other hand stepped in front of the man with a stretched arm, trying to calm down the silver haired girl as best as he could.

“at this point if you two can’t decide then i’ll just cook whatever i want.” you joked. both heads turned towards you and glared, but you only laughed and let silver wolf stomp her way to sit on the kitchen counter. “how about some sweet and spicy chicken for dinner? that way you both get what you want.”

sunday watched in amusement as silver wolf jutted her lower lip and mumbled on how she wanted cake. blade only slumped his shoulders and grumbled a low fine and started helping you take out all the ingredients from the fridge as well as the pans and bowls.

“i swear you two have worse cravings than a pregnant wom– ow!” you didn’t get to finish when blade purposely knocked your head when he opened a cabinet. your eyes narrowed at him while he only shrugged. a playful smirk on his lips as he shoved your head lower when you went to berate him.

a soft nudge on sunday’s back pushed him a bit forward. elio’s blue eyes in their cat form met his own gold ones and the two stared for a while. the cat motioned his head towards you and blade who chatted over dinner, not long, silver wolf also joined. 

“go join them.” was all they said before jumping down from the table and going to who knows where.

sunday didn’t get a chance to reply when a pair of arms snuck around his waist. he let out a noise between a surprised gasp and a shout that made you snort in amusement. when he turned to glare at you, you only stuck your tongue out and tied the apron around his waist.

“come help us make dinner, sunday.” 

and how could he say no when you’re already dragging him by the apron to the kitchen aisles with all the ingredients laid down.

by 7:15 p.m., kafka and firefly enter through the door and are met with a memorably amusing sight of sunday almost collapsing on their dining table as elio pushes a carton of milk to his direction. you and silver wolf were laughing at him with pointing hands and tears in your eyes. even blade cracked his own chuckle and rolled his eyes playfully as the halovian kicked him in the shin.

the taller woman surmised that sunday had fallen victim to blade’s insane spice addiction. the stray silver spoon on the table with the sauce was evidence. kafka let out a chuckle as firefly came over to his side –still keeping a bit of distance– and asking if he was alright.

“thought you were only getting groceries?” you ask with a raised brow. eyes surveying the amount of bags she and firefly had in their hands.

“there was a sale for clothes,” kafka reasoned. “how could we say no?”

you shake your head in disbelief and give the woman a side hug. “dinner will be ready in ten. help the poor angel soothe his tongue in the meantime.”

kafka laughed as she dropped her bags by the living room couch and guided sunday to sit down. firefly handed him an empty glass and offered to pour the milk in it. he shook his head no and did it himself. the poor boy downed the drink in one go and it didn’t seem enough to soothe his burning tongue so firefly went to get another carton from the fridge.

sunday furrowed his brows and stuck out his tongue. no doubt his taste buds won’t be working for a while.

“why does blade put so much spice in his food?” he questions the older woman who only smiled. her eyes glazed over to where the said man was and sunday followed. 

“bladie can’t taste anything that isn’t spicy,” kafka said, her eyes not once leaving blade’s figure. “a living corpse can’t really taste anything. spice is considered a pain sensation; pain is the only thing he can feel and taste.”

sunday frowns at this new information. he knows little of blade’s past and had made no effort to try and dig it up. he was curious, yes, but it must be an incredibly sensitive topic if every night the man slips away from his bedroom seeking you or kafka out to soothe the mara that’s coursing through his body.

“i… see.” a hand came to ruffle up his hair. he looked up to see kafka smiling down at him and handed him another cup of milk.

“try to ask him about it someday. maybe you’ll be able to help.”

sunday keeps that information at the back of his mind until everyone finishes cooking dinner.

the clock hit 7:25 and everyone decided to eat by the living room to see what kafka and firefly bought in their mini shopping spree. he sat in between you and blade on the floor, using the small coffee table in front of you to hold your food while silver wolf sat on the couch behind him. her legs over your shoulders and slouched on the couch.

time surprisingly passed slowly tonight. only ten minutes had actually passed of kafka showing off her new coat, but to sunday it had felt like eternity. he absentmindedly tossed his food around his plate, pushing away all the spicy pieces of chicken to the edge of his plate.

“not eating the spicy chicken now are we?” sunday whipped his head to blade and glared. warmth rising to his cheeks, wings fluttering in embarrassment when he remembered what had happened not too long ago. 

“your “normal” amount of spice nearly sent me to a coma,” he rebutted with a roll of his eyes. “so pardon me for not wanting to be sent to the hospital.”

you let out a loud laugh and leaned back on the couch. silver wolf was now using his head as support when she agreed wholly with his statement. firefly let out a quiet cough to silence her laugh while kafka chuckled. blade only rolled his eyes and took the pieces of chicken on his plate and placed it on his own.

“you said you wanted to try.” he argued back. a teasing lilt to his voice as he placed a piece of chicken to his mouth to add more salt to the injury.

“a grave mistake that was.”

you cease your laughing and lean on your propped up arm. “well look at you two, getting along so well!”

sunday scowled while blade scoffed. both picking up pieces of food and silently chewing. what started as a small bump of sunday’s elbow turned into a small petty argument about spice tolerance.

“it is quite sweet of you bladie,” kafka started. “for taking all the spicy pieces off of sunny’s plate, i mean.” 

you jumped to the wagon immediately and nodded. “agreed! you’ve never done that for anyone here before. i’m starting to think you’re playing favorites.”

“one more word and i’m dumping the rest of the chili oil on your plates.”

that had shut you up immediately. for extra measures, you scooted away from them both with your plate close to your chest. “shutting up now…”

NIGHT — 11:20 P.M.

sunday let out a long sigh as he tossed and turned in his bed. he had lost count of how many times he’s replayed tonight’s dinner in his mind to at least try and get some sleep and not be plagued by his nightmares. tonight was joyful, and he’d like to keep it that way till the end of the day. but his insomnia had struck him again like always. he’s already drunk two pills from the medication you bought him and it's yet to take effect.

with one last sigh, sunday threw off the sheets over his body and stalked out of his room as quietly as he could. the base was dark in the dead of night. the halls looked more ominous and longer than normal, something he believed was taken out of a horror film. when he first wandered these halls at this hour, sunday would feel the pricks of his paranoia.

but unlike the first time, there were no longer stray feathers of ravens following his wake. his feet weren’t stained by his blood as he dragged his body to the direction of salvation. in these halls, sunday wasn’t carrying a knife he used to plunge into his own chest to try and make the weight of the sins he didn’t commit a little lighter. he was free; free as he could be in the safety of everyone’s presence.

his gaze shifted to the slightly ajar door that led to your workshop. he frowned as he realized you were staying up late again. when he peered into the small crack, sunday was met with the sight of firefly hunched over your desk, sound asleep with stray pieces of fabric by her feet.

the nights at base were usually cold so sunday quickly walked to his room again to get a spare blanket. as quietly as he could, the halovian entered your workshop, silently cursing when the door creaked slightly. making sure he didn’t step on any of the fabrics on the floor, sunday draped the blanket over the girl’s shoulders.

another memory of his resurfaced. on nights like these, robin would sneak into his office with a pillow and blanket in her hands. she would guide his head gently to lay on the pillow and not the harsh wooden table and make sure the blanket over his shoulders didn’t slip until morning came. by instinct, sunday’s hand came to smooth down firefly’s hair and whispered good night.

he started picking up the stray pieces of whites, blues, and blacks from the floor and neatly folded them one by one. placing them in neat piles on your table. with one last look to firefly’s figure, he smiled to himself and quietly shut the door behind him. his next stop was the kitchen to brew himself a cup of tea.

“he’s gone now, firefly.”

even as you called out to her, firefly did not budge and kept her head in between her folded arms. you shook your head and sat down next to her. you had witnessed what happened and you could only guess the conflicted feelings the girl felt.

“do you think he’s a bad person, little knight?” you ask, hands picking up one of the fabrics sunday had graciously folded and laid them on the table. a measuring tape around your shoulders and a pencil snuggly on your ear.

“he’s done bad things, but…” you hum in reply. firefly’s voice was muffled because of her arms but you heard her perfectly fine, much to her dismay. “i don’t think he’s a fully bad person. i just find it… awkward to interact with him.”

“do you want to interact with him?” you wonder. “as friends i mean.”

firefly finally raised her head. hand clutching the blanket draped over her shoulders as the other ghosted over the spot where sunday had patted down and whispered good night.

“i don’t know.”

you only hum. “sunday is rather strange isn’t he? he’s quite the piece of work if you ask me.”

“what about you?” firefly fires back, scooting her chair closer to you. “do you think he’s a bad person.”

“no. no i don’t.” you answer immediately and feel firefly pause. “he’s kindest person i’ve ever met.”

“i see…”

you pat her head gently and fixate your gaze back to your table.

“he’s a lot more like us than anyone expected. sunday has done bad things that hurt those around him, but we’ve also done that haven’t we? take your time. all of us were lonely at some point, so it’s also his first time he’s ever craved someone’s company. we’ve all done that too, didn’t we?”

when a new day started (around 1:56 a.m.) she made her way back to her room. sunday’s blanket was still wrapped around her even when she laid down on her own bed. she never pointed out how you purposefully drafted a space for the ticket you’ve always hidden on sunday’s new uniform.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[robinofgothamcity]

“I can show you that not all men are like that.”

Character: Damian Wayne/Robin

Authors note: most likely not reviewed for spelling errors or mistakes lmfao, this is more of a blurb tbh. In the middle of writing this, I caused a gigantic spill all over my side table and onto my carpet so I was over it lmfao. I’m sorry that it isn’t longer :( I hope all of you have a safe and exciting new years! Let’s hope 2025 treats everyone with happiness and respect <3

Being Jon’s best friend and longtime partner, it was easy to tell when Jon was distracted and other times, it was very easy to get distracted with him. Today was one of those days where you and Jon were just being menaces to everyone that was around the two of you. You had known Jon since you entered the league under Dinah’s wing. From that point, you and him stuck to each other which made it seem like the two of you were more of siblings than friends and when Damian walked into the picture, you knew that you hit a certain nerve every time you were being particularly loud and obnoxious.

You walked into the lair hoping that Jon would be there, under the guise of seeing if he had down some of the work done that the two of you shared for a college class. The two of you went to a local college in Smallville and even though you were both getting different degrees, required classes had the two of you stuck in general English class together.

“Damian!” You said as you noticed his boots at the door, “my lovely friend who admits to hating me but secretly doesn’t!” You sang as you walked into the common area. You saw that him looking through his computer, half annoyed and angry.

“Where’s Jon, I need him,” you finally said. Damian pointed at the computer that showed that Jon was out on a mission to which he didn’t tell either of you, “that little fucking rat, are you kidding me?” You said rhetorically, “he didn’t tell he was out on a mission for an entire week! We were assigned as partners this week,” you added on.

Damian scoffed, “who do you think got assigned to Gotham until he returns?” You pushed him out of the way as you read that you were assigned to do patrols with Damian until Jon came back to help you patrol Smallville. You stomped on the ground like an angry toddler realizing you’d be out of your house all week, “I could cry, who assigned me here and why didn’t they think to tell me?” You asked. Damian giggled as you realized that Jon must’ve put you in his place until he came back.

“Well, I guess I have to hang around here all week,” you said in a huff, “gut I guess there’s one good thing about this, you’ll be stuck with me!” You added as you turned around to Damian and started giggling.

By that point, Bart and Cassie walked in as she ran over to you, “did you go on the date with that guy from your accounting class?” She asked as she practically dragged you to the couch, “yeah but it was a blow. The typical college guy as you can expect except this time, the moron decided it’d be a good idea to leave me the bill from dinner and not come back.”

Damian, Bart, and Jaime who had walked down the stairs a few moments before stared at you in shock.

“What? I never said that my love life was skyrocketing in success,” you said in annoyance. Damian put his hand up to pause you, “you’re meaning to tell me the guy left you with the bill and left without a goodbye?” You nodded in agreement, still confused as to what he was trying to insinuate, “and this normal?”

You thought for a moment, “well, the last two guys, one stood me up before I could go on the date and the other guy ghosted me at the restaurant so technically this is a first for me,” you recalled. The boys, who were now hanging their heads in disappointment couldn’t help but sigh, “listen, this conversation was between Cas and I. Why are all of you so interested now?” You asked, popping in a piece of candy Bart had left on the table.

Cassie rolled her eyes as she looked back at you, “Well, what about Jon’s friend? Weren’t the two of you just texting?” You rolled your eyes, “he’s a nice guy but definitely just a friend. I think I’m doomed and there’s no love in my future.”

Before anyone else could say anything, your communicators had went off indicating that you and Damian were now scheduled to patrol. You went over to Damian and jumped on his back, instantly getting a shout from the boy, “do you ever think she’ll realize that Damian likes her?” Bart asked Cassie. Cassie laughed dramatically, “not in a million years unless something or someone makes it click in her head.”

-

It wasn’t often that you and Damian patrolled together and the times that you did, Jon was usually came along. You didn’t hate Damian but you could tell that he wasn’t exactly your biggest fan. You wondered if this was because of your relationship with Jon or if you were just too loud and obnoxious for his liking. You knew Damian barely tolerated Jon at first but the two of you had known each other for years now and it definitely seemed like there was a dislike from Damian to you.

“So, you go any other unfortunate dates to share to the class?” Damian mocked. You rolled your eyes, not in the mood to deal with his obnoxious attitude, “well, not that I’d ever share that with you but yes I do. I have a case of bad luck in the romance department,” you admitted hoping that he’d get off your case.

Damian didn’t say a thing for a moment.

“Well, what’s the worse?” He asked. You thought a few minutes until you started laughing in embarrassment and slight annoyance, “well, I can see why you’d make fun of me for this but I think the worst date I ever went on was last year. I matched with a guy on this app and we went out to dinner only for the idiot to not realize that his girlfriend’s best friend worked at the restaurant. In my defense, I clearly didn’t realize that he was cheating on her with me so you can imagine the look I had on my face when the girl smacked him and proceeded to berate him in front of the entire restaurant.”

Damian stared at you in shock, not really knowing what to say.

“I thankfully got off lucky when I told her that I didn’t know he was cheating but it was still embarrassing nonetheless,” you continued. Damian looked into the alley, hoping that no one heard what he was about to say. Damian sighed knowing what he was about to say was coming out like word vomit, “well, I can show you that not all men are like that.”

You gave him a look of confusion.

“Listen, I know I haven’t been the nicest to you and you’re not that stupid to not realize it,” you flicked him in the forehead as he continued, “but I figured I’d rather be the one to show you that some men are actually good out there.”

“Wait, this isn’t you pitying me, is it? Because if it is, I’m going to kick you ass,” you said taking out your baton and swinging it in the air. Damian lowered the baton and gave you a sincere look, “I’m not kidding. Tomorrow after patrol, we can switch shift with Tim and Steph and I’ll take you out.”

You couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief.

“If you end up backing out last minute, Batman is going to be down a son.”

Damian flicked you on the forehead as he assured you that this time, maybe you weren’t going to be so unlucky.

[sprytesukii]

you know me (better than i know myself)

bakugou katsuki x reader

katsuki is hopelessly in love with his best friend until you waltz into his life and warp it beyond his recognition.

rating: mature, 18+, MDNI

wc : 10.4k (holy fuck)

tags : mild to heavy angst, fluff, eventual smut, hurt/comfort, gn!reader (they/them pronouns), afab!reader, unrequited love (not between reader and kats), depictions of mild depression, genderfluid!denki, queer!katsuki, reader has a quirk, oral (reader receiving), p-in-v intercourse, unprotected intercourse (wrap it b4 u tap it pls!), soft katsuki, and they were roommates :0, Not Beta Read, i think that’s it T^T

an: this is the first thing i’ve genuinely written in over a year and jesus it was like i was possessed writing it LMFAO incredibly self indulgent and i had a lot of fun writing it! i hope you guys enjoy it (pls rb n leave feedback pls pls pls)

read on ao3

the warm light of the coffee table lamp casts a beautiful shadow across the planes of eijirou’s face — his sharp, angular nose, smooth cheekbones, plush lips that form a sheepish smile — and katsuki can’t even appreciate it, not with the absolute bullshit that pours from his best friend’s lips.

“the fuck you mean, you’re moving out?”

the words come out a lot harsher than katsuki intends, but he can’t even bring himself to feel guilty, not even when kiri’s face screws up in clear disappointment.

“well, uh, i told you, this new place is closer to my agency so it makes more sense. the commute’ll be much shorter and, uh…” he trails off then, a pretty pink blush spreading across his nose, highlighting the small spattering of freckles that katsuki is certain he’s the only one who’s ever noticed, a broiling heat setting alight in his stomach.

he feels like he might die.

“and.. kaito finally asked me to move in with him.”

there it is. fuckin’ kaito.

katsuki is far from an idiot — people call him a lot of names (brash, inconsiderate, a righteous asshole), but never dumb. they couldn’t unless they were outright lying.

part of what makes katsuki so intelligent is his observance.

of course he’s noticed eijirou’s late nights, his suspicious absences at group get togethers, the sweet smiles he makes as he taps at his phone screen, the fucking hickies.

bakugou katsuki is not stupid. he’s incredibly observant. especially when it comes to the massive crush he’s been harboring on his best friend for the last three years.

he’s not entirely sure when his reluctant tolerance of the bright redhead shifted to something more but he knows he’s been viciously, painfully pining over him day in and day out in the weeks (months, years) since.

and it’s not like kirishima hasn’t had partners before. he’s nearly impossible to resist with his intense attentiveness, his willingness to go above and beyond for those close to him, not to mention his insane physique, built from long hours out on the field and in the gym.

it’s no wonder katsuki has been in love with him for as long as he has been — eijirou is perfect.

perfectly imperfect, of course. he gets upset when katsuki sorts his clothes for him (“i’m an adult, okay? it makes me feel like you’re parenting me, man.”) or when he lectures him on his diet, or when he shuts him out after being friends for so long (when his feelings become too much to handle), but eijirou’s the only one who’s stayed.

katsuki has tried flings and a few more serious relationships but those have ended quickly because he’s just too much.

too loud. too frustrating. too closed off. too him.

but not for eijirou. never for eijirou.

that’s why when kiri mentioned he was talking to this new guy, he brushed it off. it would be like all the others who would eventually break it off because of the long hours at work or eijirou’s boundless enthusiasm and katsuki would be there to pick the sopping wet, heartbroken kiri off the ground and put him back together. they didn’t deserve him anyway.

but this kaito? apparently katsuki’s eagerness to ignore eijirou’s flings made him blind to what was happening — eiji wasn’t his anymore.

he’s moving out.

he’ll be gone forever.

subconsciously, katsuki realizes he’s been silent for far too long and that eijirou’s face has lost the hurt and is now painted with concern and confusion.

fuck, even now, he’s concerned. he cares so so much, except in the way katsuki craves.

“uh,” kirishima’s gentle voice breaks him from his thoughts, a big hand finding its way to katsuki’s knee, “are you okay dude?”

the touch sears through the expensive black joggers katsuki is wearing and he flinches so hard, he jostles the coffee table to his side. he barely sees kirishima’s brows furrow as he launches himself to standing, the telltale burn behind his eyes signaling the incoming wave of tears.

he can’t see katsuki like this, he fucking can’t.

katsuki marches to the kitchen, opening up the fridge and blankly staring into it while he tries to will the water back into his face and still the turmoil burning in his chest.

it feels like he’s aflame, like he’s suffocating, drowning.

he can hear kirishima’s steps behind him but thankfully stopping a reasonable distance away as he calls his name again, desperation coloring the word.

fuck.

with everything he has in him, katsuki grabs a random bottle from the refrigerator (a smoothie eijirou made for him with far too much kale and too little milk and a little note attached with his name and a smiley face. he’s gonna be sick.) and turns to face him, a strained, shaky grimace painting his lips.

“that’s-“ his voice cracks hard and he desperately clears his throat, blinking hard when he sees eijirou reach out for him and stop. “that’s fuckin’— that’s great. ‘m happy for you.”

the words feel like glass inching their way out of his throat and while he knows he sounds anything but, the words seem to do the trick, kirishima’s face lighting up like a fucking christmas tree.

“that means so much to me, man!” this time, he doesn’t stop himself from wrapping katsuki up in a hug, the full body contact sending a wracking shiver through his body. “and don’t worry! we’ll still hang out all the time and i’ll — yes! — finally be able to introduce you to kaito — you’re gonna love him, and-“

katsuki has to tune him out, if just to keep a hold on his sanity because otherwise, he’s gonna break.

he keeps it together through the rest of the conversation about kaito, tuning in only to give time appropriate grunts and hums while pretending like his entire world isn’t imploding in on itself.

he keeps it together, miraculously, as kirishima packs up his things, the evidence of their entwined lives for the past five years disappearing into cardboard boxes over the span of a few weeks.

he even keeps it together when he meets kaito on the move out date, even if it’s just barely. kaito is handsome — tall, taller than katsuki, with windswept brown hair, bright brown eyes and a dimple in his left cheek. if he wasn’t so fucking in love with eiji, he wouldn’t mind taking a piece out of him, but as it were, the sight of kaito makes him genuinely sick to his stomach.

it’s even worse that kaito is so nice. his quirk is even nicer — some nature type that makes it impossible for plants to die when touched by him. they turn to him like he’s the fucking sun and eiji does too.

by the time all kirishima’s stuff is packed up in the back of kaito’s truck, bile is burning at the back of katsuki’s throat as he says his final goodbye to kiri in the way of a bone crushing hug that doesn’t last as long as he wishes, as he craves.

kiri sends him a blinding smile as he climbs into the passenger seat of the truck, looking all too at home against the worn blue leather seats.

it’s now when katsuki wishes he was a little less observant because the hand kaito gently places on kirishima’s thigh and the subsequent full body blush makes him sick.

he waits on the curb the appropriate amount of time as the pair drive away before racing back into his building, up the stairs, into his unit and straight to the bathroom, kneeling over the toilet and heaving, chills wracking his body despite the sweat on his brow.

nothing comes out (praise whoever above because katsuki hates vomiting) and he slumps against the porcelain, resting his heated skin against the toilet seat.

he thought… fuck, katsuki has no idea what he thought, but he didn’t expect it to hurt this bad. he feels a little like he’s dying and lot like he’ll never be okay again. that kirishima walked out with his heart and all he’ll be for the rest of his life is a walking husk of a human being.

a wave of nausea overtakes him again and he debates leaning back over the toilet, but exhaustion overwhelms him and he falls asleep against the wall of his bathroom, sweaty, sick, and heartbroken.

(the next morning, he wakes up to a pounding headache and two texts from eijirou.

he drinks a shit ton of water first and pops an advil before opening the messages.

EIJI (18:21) : just got to kaito’s! dude it’s so nice i can’t believe ill be living here now ><

katsuki has to take a deep breath to fight against the wave of pain that hits him right in the gut, but he keeps reading, the second text simultaneously warming him and twisting the knife.

EIJI (18:25) : i’m gonna miss you so much kats T^T so weird living without you

he stares at the message until his vision swims before liking the second message and turning off his phone, tossing it onto the couch and trudging to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.)

the next few weeks prove to be incredibly difficult.

a new case is brought to best jeanist’s desk and as the best sidekick at the agency, he’s placed in charge of heading the search and capture of an elusive invisibility quirk villain.

the days are long and exhausting, and more often than not, he doesn’t even have time to miss kirishima or notice his things missing from the apartment — he gets home, makes a barebones meal and collapses on the couch for what feels like a four hour nap until he has to turn back around and do it all over again.

it’s sustainable until it isn’t.

a few too many missed meals and restless hours of sleep has him passing out in a morning briefing, prompting best jeanist to send him home for a mandatory two week “vacation.”

it’s a prison sentence, is what it is.

at home, there’s nothing to distract him from the utter lack of kirishima, from the idea that the one person who has seen all of him and loved him anyway has left.

most days it’s too much to bear, so instead, he sleeps.

the usual tidiness of his space slowly deteriorates as he wastes away, waking only to scarf down whatever is left in his refrigerator before going right back to bed.

his friends text him often — hanta, denki, even fuckin’ hitoshi — but he ignores them all. the texts from kirishima are the hardest to delete, all concerned words and pleas for them to just talk, but he does it anyway.

it’s better this way, he tells himself. this way, no one else is dragged down by his self pity.

izuku ends up being the one to break the streak on day nine of radio silence.

a knock resounds at his door and he ignores it, pulling his blankets high above his mussed blonde hair, effectively hiding him from view as he hopes whoever is there spontaneously combusts or, better yet, just leaves.

when the knocks stop, he believes the latter has just occurred and he sighs in relief, completely missing the sound of metal creaking and his doorknob falling to the ground.

he’s debating on taking another melatonin to find the sweet release of sleep once more when his bedroom door opens up and he startles, launching up out of bed, hands and quirk at the ready to destroy the intruder, but he’s slow, too slow.

izuku is on him in a moment, pinning him to the bed and disregarding his gnashing teeth and cursing to look him over with a detached gaze.

“katsuki,” he says, voice firm in effectively shutting him up, despite the way he wriggles for freedom (so ineffectively, it’s embarrassing), “you look like dogshit.”

a harsh bark of laughter escapes katsuki’s throat and even from his angle where he’s pressed into his pillows, he sees izuku’s expression soften.

“you’ve lost your tact, deku,” he responds, his words gravelly from disuse. izuku scoffs but lets him up, taking a step over a pile of clothes on the ground to lean against the desk opposite of the bed.

with his newfound freedom, katsuki sits up, absentmindedly rubbing his now sore shoulder, the pain oddly grounding. izuku watches the motion with the intense focus he’s carried throughout his entire life, though he’s a far cry from the boy who used to break his bones and cry over injured birds.

now, he’s built like a brick house, forest green curls tapered into a flattering modern undercut, the fat from his cheeks transforming into something more chiseled and adult. his eyes aren’t as soft either — they’re tired and, as he looks at katsuki’s form, tinged with worry.

“where have you been? no one has heard from you in a week.”

katsuki rolls his eyes, looking away from the gaze that pins him, the gaze he tried so hard to get to look at him without fear. there isn’t a hint of fear in them now, but katsuki is afraid there’ll be disappointment and that’s almost worse.

“none of your fuckin’ business,” he grunts out and he immediately knows it was the wrong response. besides eijirou, izuku knows him the best and after all they’ve been through, he doesn’t deserve this.

he never deserved any of it.

with that thought spinning around in his head, katsuki rubs a hand over his face with a quiet curse, leaning back against the headboard.

“fuck, i’m sorry,” it comes out as a mutter, but its effect on izuku is instantaneous. the previous hardness of his expression melts and he moves closer, his bushy brows furrowing together. katsuki can barely look at him but he does anyway, he makes himself. izuku deserves that much (he deserves so much more but one day at a time).

“we’re just worried about you,” izuku says quietly but without pity. never pity. “what’s going on?”

maybe it’s the way izuku’s freckled face reminds him far too much of eijirou’s own spattering of constellations or maybe it’s the fact katsuki hasn’t eaten in over fifteen hours, but he shatters in that moment, crystal tears filling up carmine eyes.

if izuku is startled at katsuki’s sudden change of emotions, he doesn’t show it, instead moving to envelop katsuki in his arms, allowing him to bury his face in the crook of his shoulder and let go.

katsuki tells him everything and by the end of it, his head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and his eyes are puffy and red, but he feels better than he did all week.

izuku just looks thoughtful from his place sitting near the end of katsuki’s bed, the pair parting somewhere in between katsuki’s admission of throwing up when seeing kaito and kirishima together and his accidental confession of stealing one of eijirou’s hoodies from one of the boxes (it sits right under his pillow, but izuku doesn’t need to know that).

“i’m really sorry, katsuki. that fucking sucks,” izuku ends up saying and katsuki’s initial reaction is anger. he spills his heart and guts out to izuku and all he gets is that sucks? but when he opens his mouth to give deku a piece of his mind, he realizes that it does suck. it sucks royal ass and there’s nothing he or izuku can do to fix it - at least not yet - but the acknowledgment, without any attempt to give advice or make everything better, does wonders for katsuki.

he pushes out a watery laugh, his lip ticking up into a smile - for the first time in weeks - and izuku lights up a little. “yeah. it really fuckin’ does.”

the smile izuku sends back is blinding and for the one thousandth time, katsuki is reminded why the symbol of peace is just that.

they talk for a little while longer before izuku forces katsuki into the shower. he takes a long time, letting the scalding hot water turn cold before he emerges to find that his childhood best friend has started cleaning up the mess that has become of his apartment.

katsuki watches on for a moment until izuku raises an eyebrow at him and offers him a trash bag which he takes wordlessly, a wave of affection crashing over him so quickly tears come to his eyes. he blinks them away but he doesn’t miss the knowing smile izuku sends his way.

the pair work together in relative silence until the apartment is spotless and katsuki’s stomach is grumbling something fierce. izuku makes his way to the fridge but is met with nothing but a half carton of eggs and a rotting smoothie in the far corner, a sticky note attached to the lid. he fixes katsuki with a small, sad smile before digging through his drawers for a takeout menu.

when the food arrives, katsuki finishes it in record time and he can’t tell if it’s the fact they remembered to make it extra spicy or if it’s because he literally can’t remember the last time he had an actual meal, but it’s the best thing he’s eaten in a long time.

after they finish, izuku turns on the television and they both spend the evening shit talking a d-list hero film until they fall asleep on the couch, bodies slumped against one another, holding each other up.

—

that night seems to have knocked something loose in katsuki because the next morning, he wakes with his first alarm and heads to the gym for the first time since his mandatory vacation. by the end of it, his arms are burning from quirk overuse and he’s completely wiped, but he feels more like himself than he has in ages.

he finally texts his friends back (barring one) and they greet him back with high levels of enthusiasm and concern. it feels good to be received back into the fold with the love he’d thought he’d lost, his cheeks hurting with how much he’s smiling as the messages roll in.

katsuki finishes out his sentence and goes back to work on the fourteenth day with an earnest apology to best jeanist and a new lead on the villain after pouring over the case files in between hyperintensive workouts at the gym. best jeanist is quietly impressed, but the squeeze to the shoulder he gives katsuki tells him he was more worried about him than he let on.

the next few weeks pass in a blur, but this time it’s more pleasant. he watches shitty movies with izuku, deletes instagram when he sees a photo of kaito and kirishima on holiday in america, starts attending a pottery class on the weekends he has off with mina and denki, continues to ignore the texts from eijirou that are becoming more and more infrequent as time goes on, smokes with hanta and shinsou one evening and laughs harder than he ever has, and life feels like it’s slowly gaining its footing once again.

he realizes three months after kirishima had moved out that he should probably start looking for a new roommate or downgrade to something more reasonable. he seriously considers the latter, but when he looks at the space he cultivated right after he graduated from ua, he realizes he can’t quite give the place up.

he posts an ad on craigslist that night.

the next time the group goes drinking (kirishima is suspiciously absent, despite his reentry into the country a few days prior — mina mentioned it), katsuki brings up his roommate problem and denki latches on, his cheeks pleasantly flushed from the wine he’s been sipping on.

“oh, oh! i know - i know the perrrrfeeccttt roommate for you,” he slurs, toying with the earring dangling from his ear and fixing his excited gaze on katsuki’s face. “they’re like.. the besttt, dude, you’d - you’d love them.”

the words are vague, but when katsuki opens up his mouth to ask for more details, denki’s eyes widen and he rushes off to the bathroom, a hand over his mouth, nearly tripping over the his platform shoes and maxi skirt.

the topic of the roommate is quickly forgotten then, but it resurfaces a few days later at pottery class.

katsuki is glaring holes into the side of his slightly lopsided vase on the pottery wheel, internally going through the steps to see where he went wrong. denki to the left of him laughs and chatters as he makes his, frankly, hideous ceramic, the clay warped beyond recognition.

something in his one-sided conversation brings his attention to katsuki who’s startled at the sound of his name coming from denki’s mouth.

“yo, you still looking for a roommate?” he asks, tilting his head as a strand of hair falls from the lengthening ponytail at the back of his head. without alcohol in his system, denki looks a little more hesitant to be approaching this topic, but does so when he isn’t met with a howitzer to the face.

the group doesn’t know much of anything, just that kirishima and katsuki aren’t talking, so they tend to tread lightly around the subject. katsuki appreciates it, genuinely, but he’s not going to shatter at the sound of eijirou’s name - not anymore. it hurts still, of course, but the pain has dulled to a steady hum that he can ignore if he tries hard enough.

“yeah,” he grunts, turning his eyes back at his vase. “why? you got someone in mind?”

denki grins, showing off the lightning tooth gems on his canine. “hell yeah! i’ll give you their number — they teach the watercolor class here on tuesdays and they’re so cool.”

he speaks about you with obvious adoration and katsuki belatedly wonders if the two of you are dating, but doesn’t voice this curiousity, instead wordlessly handing denki his phone to put in your contact as “ROOMIE” with what feels like a hundred paint emojis after it. katsuki smiles at his friend’s antics and can’t quite bring himself to change it.

the colorful contact remains untouched for about another week until he gets a rent notice and remembers the little paint palettes in his phone.

in the middle of his morning workout, he taps out a quick text to you, before tossing his phone to the side and promptly forgetting about it.

katsuki [09:27] : Hey. I’m Bakugou. Denki gave me your number. I’m looking for a roommate. You interested?

ROOMIE [10:16] : oh hey yeah i’m interested

ROOMIE [10:17] : do you want 2 meet td

ROOMIE [10:17] : i’m at the cafe on 5th n cherry

ROOMIE [10:17] : in the back

ROOMIE [10:19] : i’ll b here 4 a while

ROOMIE [10:19] : just come whenever

katsuki only sees the message at the end of his workout a half hour later. the number of messages in a row and less than ideal grammar makes him turn up his nose but he quickly taps out an affirmative, before dapping izuku up and heading to the showers.

he makes it to the cafe twenty minutes later, scanning the place to see what he assumes is you tucked away in the back corner, your table full with books, papers, paints, your laptop and at least four empty cups of coffee.

katsuki raises an eyebrow at the sight but walks over anyway, telling himself he’s doing denki a favor by meeting someone he thinks so highly of so he won’t feel too bad when he tells him it’s not going to work out.

you don’t look up when he stops at your table, too occupied with the piece of art in front of you, your face twisted up in intense concentration.

you’re quite pretty, he notes subconsciously, the hard set of your eyes and one track focus reminding him an awful lot of himself when he’s swept into a difficult case. your complete unawareness gives him more time to take you in, though, so he can’t even bring himself to be too annoyed.

you’re wearing a bright yellow chargebolt hoodie that clashes terribly with your garishly pink acid queen baggy sweatpants. a pair of cellophane socks cover your feet where they’re stretched out in the seat across from you and your shoes (made to look like the red ones from deku’s costume, jesus christ) sit haphazardly beneath the table, empty.

it’s such a bizarre sight, katsuki almost laughs — almost — but he doesn’t, instead opting to knock your feet off the chair opposite you so he can sit down.

“a big fan of heroes, huh?” he asks, the action coupled with his words startling you so bad, your knees hit the underside of the table, threatening to upend all the precariously balanced objects decorating the surface.

you look angry at first before you realize who it is and once you do, you just look relieved. it’s an unusual reaction, one katsuki rarely gets from anyone who isn’t actively in danger, especially strangers.

“you scared the absolute shit out of me,” you say tiredly, rubbing a hand over your face and sighing. katsuki watches you recognize your own impoliteness in real time, a sheepish smile spreading across your lips.

pretty.

“fuck, sorry,” you extend a paint splotched hand to him and he takes it, shaking it firmly before it falls back to his side, fingers tingling. “i get super into shit and completely forget where i am. kami gets onto me about it all the time. says i’m prime villain bait or some shit. i think he’s saying it most of the time to freak me out, but he might actually be right. don’t ever tell him i said that though.”

katsuki can’t help but stare at you as you ramble at him with the familiarity of someone who’s known him for months, not just a few minutes. it’s uncomfortable in a strangely nice way and he can feel his muscles loosen as the nerves melt away.

“aw fuck, i’m sorry again. i didn’t introduce myself.”

you give him your name, offering your hand out for him to shake once more which he does with an amused look painting his expression. you don’t seem to notice, your attention being grabbed by the piece in front of you again.

“i’m bakugou,” he offers after a moment of silence. you don’t even look up when you respond.

“i know. you sent me that text, remember? also you’re like, super fucking famous, dynamight,” you look up at him through your lashes, teasing, and heat unexpectedly blooms on the back of his neck.

what the fuck?

in a bid to gain back control of the conversation (and himself) katsuki asks, “what’re you workin’ on? dunceface said you’re a painter or some shit.”

your nose crinkles at the moniker, but you don’t say anything about it, instead turning the sketchbook around for katsuki to look at it.

the piece is stunning, but it’s visceral and he can’t help but lean back a little when looking at it, stomach dropping.

a deer lays on the ground, gutted, blood, guts and viscera pouring out of its abdomen as a figure just out of frame reaches inside and pulls out its heart.

katsuki is disgusted but intrigued and that feeling only amplifies when you press a finger to the painting and activate your quirk.

suddenly, the hand in the painting moves so realistically he flinches — he can hear the deer’s heart beat, can hear the way the blood trickles through the blades of grass, can smell the coppery tang and can feel the rush of spring wind blowing past his face.

it’s like he’s there, in the piece, and he feels both a little sick and also so alive.

“holy fuck,” he whispers, shivering, and you laugh, deactivating your quirk, bringing him back to the real world. the sounds of the cafe flood in, replacing the smell of blood and spring fields with coffee and loose tea leaves. he shakes his head, eyes a little blown when they look at you.

your expression is playfully amused as you bring your sketchbook closer to your person, resting your head on the palm of your hand.

“sorry,” you offer, but you don’t sound very sorry at all, “should’ve asked before i used my quirk on you. not everyone likes that shit.”

the words are so nonchalant but you look like you’re poised to watch him get up and leave, never looking back. katsuki doesn’t think he could leave if he tried.

“nah,” his voice feels raw so he tries to clear it but the feeling doesn’t go away. “you’re good. just surprised me, ‘s all.”

your mouth parts in muted surprise and you tilt your head, appraising him like you’re seeing him for the first time. katsuki feels surprisingly bare as you study him, but he doesn’t drop his eye contact, despite the heavy pounding of his heart from your intensity.

the pair of you sit in silence like that for a moment or two longer before you break it, asking him if he wants something to drink. before he can tell you he doesn’t drink coffee though, you flag down the waiter, ask for a hot cup of tea (“darjeeling or oolong,” you ask the waiter, not even sparing katsuki another glance, “he doesn’t look like he fucks with green tea.” it’s true. he doesn’t. his heart does a stutter step in his chest.) and when it arrives to the table, katsuki asks you to move in with him.

you agree.

—

the move in process is so quick and easy that when it’s done, it feels like you’ve been living there for years.

your belongings integrate seamlessly into his own. your books about art history and watercolor technique find their way onto his bookshelves filled with classic japanese literature and hero history.

(he comes home one day to see you propped up on the couch with a thick book on the origin of quirks and heroism in japan that you stole borrowed from his collection. he just cocks his head at you when you meet his gaze and you shrug.

“i’m not japanese, i don’t know any of this shit,” you say in way of an explanation. “besides, this is important to you. i wanna learn.”

you turn back to your book like you didn’t just completely shake the foundation of katsuki’s world for a moment and he stumbles off to the kitchen, heat burning at the tips of his ears.)

your plants find their way on every windowsill and while, once upon a time, it would’ve made him think of kaito and that sick, curling jealousy would wrap around his chest and squeeze, now? it just makes him think of you.

(it helps you can’t really keep them alive so nearly every other week the two of you are replanting something new in the pots and vases katsuki makes in pottery class.)

your favorite foods join his in the refrigerator and the two of you take your meals together more often than not. katsuki cooks and you clean, either eating on the couch while watching a documentary or at the dining room table as you talk and talk and talk.

(the first time katsuki misses dinner, you wait up for him, even forgoing your own meal to eat with him when he returns at 2 in the morning.

“don’t do that shit again,” he grumbles when he finds out what you’ve done, his scarlet eyes piercing your own. you shrug, unafraid, tired eyes trailing lazily over his tank top clad form.

“don’t tell me what to do,” you retort after a moment, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “i like eating with you.”

your honesty, unabashed and loud, always bowls him over and he has to take a sip of his ice water to feel steady again.)

the relationship between the two of you is easy, for once, and katsuki finds himself looking forward to coming home, to you and your witty comments, sharp intelligence, and your uncanny ability to see right through him.

he swears it must be a hidden quirk, the way you seem to just know — know what he wants and needs without even asking and your accuracy rate is pretty much unbeatable.

after a particularly bad mission where the property damage is unusually high and the civilian casualties match, the leading hero news journalist puts out a scathing piece about him, sending him into an emotional spiral.

you find him that afternoon, curled up in bed, staring at the window blankly. you crawl up in bed beside him and you don’t speak, don’t offer him coddling words of “everything’s gonna be okay,” or “you did the best you could,” because if that was katuski’s best, he doesn’t fucking deserve to be a hero. not at all.

but no, you don’t offer him empty words of placation. instead, you brush a lock of his hair off of his forehead and look at him with that all-seeing gaze, your expression neither soft nor hard, but understanding.

“you’re not gonna let that shit happen again, right?” you ask, tilting your head. katsuki shakes his head vehemently, the mere notion of the same amount of dead bodies on his watch sending a fire through his chest as he sits up.

“fuck no.”

“good. now come here, i painted something new and i need to see if i get ‘good job’ or ‘holy fuck that’s shitty’ eyebrows from you.”

and that’s that.

you’ve even given him a nickname and it inexplicably makes his skin feel tight, like he needs to tear it off and show you, like it’s a display of how you make him feel.

it’s a lazy sunday afternoon, one he’s required to take off by best jeanist, and he’s spent it next to you on the couch, listening to a few of your records while you paint a forest scene, a skittish doe front and center with rivulets of water streaming from beneath it.

occasionally, you’ll activate your quirk and katsuki can suddenly hear birds chirping and the creak of the wood before he’s back in your cramped flat, the sounds of city sounding below.

it’s jarring and yet, comforting, both your presence and the quirk, in a way that still doesn’t make sense to him yet.

“bambi, are you even listening to me?” the term of what he assumes is endearment startles him out of his thoughts and he eyes dart to yours, an amused expression on your your brow.

“who the fuck are you callin’ bambi?” in his shock, he can hardly conjure up the ability to sound pissed, confusion instead hijacking his words, making them come out soft and gruff.

“you, idiot,” you reply, like it makes all the sense in the world. “you’re like a deer to me. something in you is skittish, afraid and yet, you’re still so beautiful.”

what the fuck.

katsuki’s breath completely evaporates from his lungs and he feels like he’s going to pass out at your frank words. it doesn’t help that you don’t break eye contact or look embarrassed to have said something so, so… intimate.

he can’t even begin to parse through how to respond to something like that, but you know that too, flicking a little bit of paint water at him with the tip of your brush. he sees the olive branch for what it is and he grabs it with both hands, the annoyed sound rising from his throat on autopilot as you laugh, but your eyes are still so knowing.

he thinks about that day everyday after with sickening butterflies flapping around in his stomach and those only magnify when you choose to call him the new nickname every single chance you get.

katsuki would not dream of stopping you.

—

it’s about two months into you moving in with him and he’s going out drinking with the squad. he’s invited you about thirty times but every time you decline, citing that you’re behind on grading art projects and that show you were looking forward to is airing tonight.

(you’re a substitute art teacher at the local elementary school, a fact that genuinely shocked katsuki when he found out.

you’d laughed, wide and unapologetic at his reaction.

“i know i’ve got quite the potty mouth but i clean it up for the kids,” you say, eyes twinkling. “they kinda love me, i think, but it might just be the bob ross videos i put on for them every friday.”)

katsuki chooses not to push but he knows that he’ll end up cutting the night short, just so he can sprawl next to you on the couch and watch you paint.

you seem to know it too (how?? secret quirk, it must be) if the knowing look you give him isn’t enough as he goes to change.

when he returns to the living room, he’s clad in a nice black button down that’s unbuttoned enough to show off the strong planes of his chest and his thin gold chain, and a pair of black jeans that fit him and his tiny waist incredibly well.

katsuki knows he looks good in this outfit, but he finds himself uncharacteristically nervous as he stands in front of you, your eyes dragging down his body as slow as molasses, igniting the skin as though it was a physical touch.

your eyes meet his once again, molten and hot, and katsuki’s knees nearly buckle at the sight. he’s never seen you look like that - not at him, not at anyone, and he finds that he quite likes to be the center of your attention in this way.

“you clean up nicely, bambi,” you murmur, your voice a lower timber in comparison to your normal speech.

the blush spreads immediately to all visible parts of his body and he can fucking see you holding back a grin. “fuck off,” is all he can say before he spins on his heel, grabs his keys, and marches out the door.

it takes everything in him to continue walking, out and up to the train station and then to the bar, because all he wants to do is turn right back around, back to your home and back to that lava-like gaze you pinned him with earlier.

it’s you that’s racing around in his mind when he pushes the door open to the bar, but all thoughts come to a complete, grinding halt when he sees kirishima at their usual table, surrounded by all their friends and grinning like he’d never left.

he looks different - after all, it’s been about a year since katsuki had seen him last. his hair is longer and his roots are grown out, his skin has taken on such a warm glow and it, impossibly, seems like he’s gotten even bigger somehow.

it’s also impossible to miss the black band on his ring finger signaling a new engagement ring which he figures is what they’re meant to be celebrating tonight, eyes belatedly catching on the comically tiny “i’m engaged!” sash hanging around his chest.

the sight of kirishima sends the most heinous bolt of anxiety through katsuki and now he really just wants to call you to come get him and take him home, to make him forget all about his unrequited love. he moves backwards to do just that, but he’s already been spotted by kirishima himself.

fuck.

katsuki is frozen as kirishima’s happy expression falters when he meets his eyes, cycling through shock, disbelief, stark hurt and then utter relief.

he can see the way kiri’s mouth forms “katsuki” from a distance as he puts down his drink and moves towards him, his feet completely frozen until they’re standing face to face (face to chest, really) for the first time in months.

“hey,” kirishima says, hesitantly, breathlessly, as his hands flutter uselessly at his sides, like he wants to just pick katsuki up but is stopping himself. “can we, uh, can we go outside and talk?”

katsuki just nods because what else is supposed to do? and as they move out, he catches the worried gazes of their friends watching the pair of them from the table. denki and izuku, the latter of whom knows the most (everything) and the former who managed to figure most of it out on his own.

(“takes one to know one,” he’d said, bitterly when he’d confronted katsuki a few weeks ago about his unexplained mandatory leave all those months ago. katsuki was confused until kaminari flipped around his phone to reveal a photo of him and hanta pressed tightly together in an embrace that was strictly platonic and yet, horribly intimate.

katsuki’s lips drew together into a tight line as he settled against the brick wall kami was leaning against, trying to light the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.

“you’re too good for plain face,” he says after a moment, attempting to channel his inner you, blunt and honest. “you’re gonna find someone better.” and just like all his thoughts as of recently, they’d flitted right back to you.

denki had watched his face carefully, cigarette unlit, a thoughtful look crossing his own expression.

“yeah,” he concedes, “i will, won’t i?”)

katsuki gives the pair of them a nod, holding up a hand to izuku who looks like he wants to follow them out of the bar, despite the pounding in his chest and the way he suddenly feels unsteady on his feet as they leave the building to step right back out into the cool, fall air.

kirishima’s stance is awkward and since neither of them smoke, they both just stand there, barely looking at each other and waiting for the other person to speak up first.

“fuckin’ hell- what’d you wanna talk about kirishima?” katsuki grits out, tired of the waiting game and suddenly, immediately, so exhausted. all he wants to do is be curled up beside you, with your all seeing eyes and gentle utterances of “bambi” in his ear.

the tact he’d lost in his haste to get this over with stings kirishima whose brows furrow in annoyance. “what do i want to talk about? i haven’t seen you in a year, bakugou, not since i moved out and you completely cut me off with no explanation whatsoever. i want to know why. what - what did i do wrong?”

his voice breaks on the last word and it sounds so sad, so uncharacteristically eijirou, that katsuki flinches, finally looking over at kirishima to see a broken, pleading man who lost his best friend for nothing more than silly, stupid feelings.

at once, katsuki feels all the fucking idiot asshole he is and it’s staggering how much that thought makes him feel like shit. he could’ve reached out, he could’ve, but he was so worried that he wouldn’t have been able to keep it together, spending time with kiri, and as time passed, the issue became that so much time had passed and he had no idea how to navigate this all over again.

he runs a hand over his face, leaning against the brick facade of the bar. “fuck,” he whispers, gravel crunching underfoot as kiri steps closer.

“i - i miss you, kats,” kiri’s voice comes out quiet and thick, “i got engaged and all i wanted to do was call you, but you weren’t there, you weren’t speaking to me and i-“ he takes a shuddering breath and katsuki’s eyes fill with tears.

“i was in love with you.”

the sounds of the street fade out as katsuki finally turns to look at kirishima, the tears falling down his cheeks.

“wha- bakugou, what?”

“i was in love with you and i couldn’t fuckin’ - i couldn’t do it. not to myself, not to you.”

kirishima face is drawn, pale and mouth gaping. his mouth closes, then opens again, then snaps shut, his head shaking in disbelief.

“why didn’t you - fuck - why didn’t you ever say anything, man?”

katsuki scoffs, the sound wet with grief. “are you shittin’ me? why the hell would i do that?”

kiri shrugs, long, dark lashes sweeping his cheekbones, leaving tiny wet marks. a year ago, the sight would’ve filled katsuki with rabid butterflies, but now it remains just an observation, one made passively and without thinking.

“i should’ve told you somethin’, i fuckin’ know that now, but i was - i was scared. scared of you hating me, scared of losing you. but i went and fucked that one up anyway, so,” katsuki laughs, self deprecating, and kirishima shakes his head vehemently, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him into a tight hug.

katsuki’s throat is tight as he gives into the embrace, burying his face into kirishima’s shoulder.

“you haven’t lost me, kats, and you never will,” kirishima whispers, pulling apart far enough to press his forehead to katsuki’s, red eyes meeting red. “i mean, who else is gonna be my best man?”

katsuki’s eyes widen and he takes a step back. “don’t fuck with me.”

kirishima shakes his head, a wet laugh escaping his lips. “not fucking with you bro. you’re my best friend. i want you there beside me on the happiest day of my life.”

after everything, after the year of no contact and the absolutely shitty way katsuki treated him, kirishima still wants katsuki by his side?

he’s honored, he’s out of his depth, he’s fucking nauseous, and he really wants to go home and tell you.

“i met someone,” he blurts and kirishima looks startled at the change of subject, but takes it in stride, a smile tugging at his face.

“that’s so great, dude, congrats! what’s their name?”

katsuki breathes it out and when he does, he realizes something, the force of it hitting him like a steel beam to the head.

“i think i’m in love with them.”

kirishima blinks, taking in katsuki’s tense form. he looks like he’s about to run away.

“i’m so happy for you, kats. really, i am,” kiri says, before being taken off guard yet again by the hug katsuki initiates.

“of course i’ll be your best man, shitty hair. i fuckin’ missed you too,” he murmurs and he hears kirishima sniffle. “i gotta go but text me and we’ll get lunch tomorrow or some shit, okay? i’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

he pulls away to see eijirou’s big wet eyes stare down at him with unabashed care and love, and katsuki feels his heart swell.

he got his best friend back and now it’s time to get you.

kirishima agrees to the meetup wholeheartedly and lets katsuki go with a hearty pat on the back and a shouted “good luck!” over the sound of the rain that started up during the last moments of conversation before going back inside the bar.

katsuki considers blasting his way to you, but he knows the optics would be incredibly unfavorable and his pr department would have his head, so he races to the train station instead and hops aboard, his mind racing with thoughts of you.

his hair is plastered to his forehead with rain by the time he gets to his apartment building and the button up is molded to his body like a second skin. he’s uncomfortable, of course, but he hardly pays it any mind because before he knows it, he’s unlocking and pushing open the door to your shared flat.

he’s home.

you startle from your place upside down on the couch, your paints and sketchbook cluttering the coffee table at the side while the tv plays an ancient looking cooking show quietly.

katsuki is bowled over by the sight, the weight of what he now knows as love sending him stumbling a little on his feet. he has to hold onto the doorjamb to keep his footing.

you sit up, observing, and you tilt your head. “you’re back early,” you comment, curiosity lacing your words.

he nods, not trusting his voice as finally steps past the threshold, kicking off his shoes and putting on a pair of hideous hawks themed slippers that you’d bought for him on your own birthday.

you hum thoughtfully before standing and disappearing down the hallway, katsuki’s eyes glued to you as you go. he can hear the sounds of you rummaging around in the bathroom, his feet frozen to the floor when you return, a fluffy towel in hand.

“you should shower, of course,” you say with a grin, opening up the towel and draping it over his head to dry it before moving on to the rest of his sopping body. “but i figured i’d keep you from dripping all over that ugly rug you’re obsessed with.”

katsuki doesn’t respond, can’t, and you don’t push or question, instead diligently wiping him down until he’s marginally more dry, eg, not actively dripping on the hardwood.

you move to go dispose of the towel and katsuki’s hand shoots out, not of his own volition, to hold you in place. it’s here he notices how close you’ve been standing to him, your breath wafting over his collarbones.

“bambi?” you question, unafraid of him, just lightly confused, but you don’t move away from him, somehow picking up his need for closeness without him saying anything, and he snaps.

“i love you,” he whispers, the explosion in his chest coming out in just those three gruff words, his carmine eyes boring into your own with an intensity you match.

a small smile spreads over your lips and your eyes light up, joy thrumming over your skin. “i love you too, katsuki.”

it’s perfect and katsuki can’t stop himself from cupping your face and pressing your lips together.

the kiss is gentle and chaste, your hands dropping the towel, coming up to rest on his forearms and holding him in place as you move your lips softly against his own.

katsuki feels like the rest of the world could implode right now, could be on fire or flooding or being overrun by villains and none of it would matter, not a single fucking thing because you’re in his arms and you’re kissing him back and you love him.

these thoughts ignite a hunger in him, a flame stoking in his belly, and he pushes further into the kiss, his hands sliding from their place on your face. one cups the back of your neck while the other slides down your back, pressing you firmly against the front of his body.

he’s almost giddy, having you like this, and he’s sure you can feel it because you’re smiling into the kiss like this is the happiest day of your life.

he thinks it’s his.

you continue trading kisses like this in your foyer, but it only escalates when your tongue flickers across katsuki’s bottom lip and you sigh softly, back arching against him.

katsuki has to break apart from you so he doesn’t consume you in that moment, but you don’t go far (you never do), your foreheads pressed together while you breathe in each others air.

“fuckin’ hell,” he chokes out and you laugh. “can i please - fuck - i need you.”

his honesty shuts you up quick and you nod, biting your lip. “take me to bed, bambi.”

and that he does.

katsuki’s hand finds yours and he pulls you towards his bedroom — you’ve been in there countless times, to watch movies, to nap, to read with one another, but of course, it was never like this.

the tension is thick but it’s not uncomfortable at all. you walk over to his bed and plop down on it like you’ve been in this situation a thousand times. the action soothes any residual anxiety katsuki might’ve had as he walks over to you, your heated gaze tracking his movements the entire time.

“take this shit off,” he grumbles, tugging at the garish all might crewneck covering your abdomen and you swat his hand away with an amused look.

he can feel his pout forming at your smile, but you just shake your head. “don’t tell me what to do, bambi,” but still, you raise grip the bottom of the thick fabric, lifting it up and over your head before letting it drop to the ground, leaving you bare.

or almost bare, if not for the objectively hideous, brightly colored, thin, cheap and lacey dynamight themed underwear covering your body.

“what the fuck is this?” katsuki doesn’t mean for his question to come out so reverent, but seeing you clad in his colors sends a bolt of heat down his spine so strong, he’s quite literally never been harder in his life.

you don’t seem to notice (but you always do), tilting your head at him with a grin playing on your lips. “they were on sale. didn’t think you’d ever see them.”

katsuki’s brows furrow at that, his hands tightening from their place on your hips. “who the fuck else was going to?”

you shake your head, like there’s something he isn’t getting. “no one. it’s always been you.”

“fuckin’-“ katsuki surges for you, claiming your lips with his with an urgency that had previously been lost. you respond in kind and this time, you’re letting out all these quiet gasps and sighs, writhing beneath him. he has to see you fall apart.

he reluctantly detaches his face from yours, kissing down your neck and sucking marks into the thin skin there, one of your hands sliding up to tangle into his hair, keeping him close.

a moan escapes him at the feeling of your fingers on his scalp, nearly getting lost in the mindless action, but he has to keep going. he makes it to your chest, laving his tongue over one of your nipples, flicking the hardened bud with the tip.

“f-fuck, bambi,” you outright moan and katsuki has to grind down against the mattress, his free hand sliding to pinch and pull at your other nipple.

your body can’t figure out whether to arch towards or away from his ministrations, which katsuki takes special delight in. you’re always so in control of yourself, even when you’re not, so it’s beyond rewarding to be responsible for your destruction.

“bambi - fuck - ‘suki, fuck me,” you groan and katsuki’s eyes roll back before he pulls off your nipple with a pop, his lips red and slick.

“nah.”

“nah?” you parrot, leaning up on your elbows with the closest thing he’s seen to annoyance directed at him written all over your face.

“nah. ‘m gonna make you come first.” katsuki grins, feral, and you shudder.

“get to it then, hero.” the moniker, while meant to be sarcastic and biting, just makes katsuki moan, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your (dynamight !!) underwear and tossing them to the floor.

he leans in, propping up one of your legs over his shoulder to bury his nose in the crease between hip and thigh, inhaling deeply. you smell sharp and tangy and so you that he couldn’t stop himself from taking a lick, entrance to clit, if he tried.

you sigh at that first touch of his wet muscle, melting in the bed while one hand remains buried in his hair and the other splays above your head. you watch him move with that intense look and you don’t look away so he doesn’t either.

he doesn’t look away as he slurps loudly at your entrance, tasting the wetness that’s gathered there with a pleased hum. doesn’t look away as he swirls his tongue around your clit, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest. doesn’t look away as he picks up pace, swirling, flicking and sucking until you’re chanting his name and “bambi,” your body tensing up as you buck your hips up into his face. doesn’t look away when you cum hard, soaking his lips and chin to which he eagerly groans, slurping up all you have to offer.

you pull him up to stop him from licking you through your aftershocks, kissing him hard once he gets to eye level.

“please,” you beg, eyes wide and urgent. who is he to deny you or himself?

katsuki stands and shucks off his boxers in record time, wrapping a hand around his cock that’s hard and leaking, the tip bright red.

your eyes eat him up hungrily, lingering on the way his precum spills over his knuckles with every slow stroke.

“i’m gonna suck your pretty cock tomorrow, preferably before breakfast,” you comment breathlessly. katsuki has to wrap his fingers around the base of his cock to keep himself from coming in that moment, taking a deep breath and glaring at you when you giggle.

“condom?” you shake your head, leaning back and spreading your legs to show off the wet mess he’s made of you.

“‘m clean and i’m in love with you. fuck me. now.” you can’t even sound commanding, not with the whine lying beneath your words, giving away how bad you want him. how bad you want this.

if the way katsuki’s cock legitimately jumped at your words is anything to go by, he obviously feels the same.

“goddamit, can’t fuckin’ say shit like that to me, jesus,” he rambles, crawling back onto the bed and notching the fat head of his dick into your entrance before leaning down to kiss you, open mouthed and messy.

he pushes into you when your tongue is halfway down his throat and he nearly chokes on it. you’re so soft and wet and velvety — he’s gonna cum so fucking fast, holy shit.

of course, you know it too, know him like the back of your hand because you squeeze even tighter around him and slide your hand down between your bodies to rub frantically at your clit.

“you - oh, god, you feel so fucking good bambi, fucking me so well, always taking care of me,” your words slur together as your eyes roll back, his hips slamming into yours at a quick pace.

he wants you to cum first, wants it more than anything, but the dirty talk coupled with the way you feel clenching around him has him shooting off faster than he expected, a low, long whine leaving him.

his hips stutter against yours and fireworks go off behind his eyelids. it feels like he’s coming forever as he humps into you and that feeling is only prolonged by you coming around him, your cunt clenching so tightly, you force him out, his spend spreading all over your mons and pelvis with a choked groan.

after another long moment, he slumps against you, exhausted and happier than he’s ever been.

you hum contentedly, wrapping your arm around him to pull him half on top of you, your body succumbing to the tiredness that’s so quickly overtaken you.

“i love you, katsuki,” you whisper, the phrase thick with sleep and emotion. katsuki feels burning at the backs of his eyes so he buries his face in the crook of your neck to hide, kissing your shoulder when the words don’t come.

you know, though. you always do.

—

“fuck, bambi, we’re gonna be late!” you screech from your (now) shared room, the sound muffled from where your head is buried in the closet.

by the door, katsuki is trying (and failing) to tie his bow tie, the red fabric remaining uncooperative in his hands. he groans in frustration, raising a hand to run it through his hair but stopping short when he remembers how you painstakingly fixed it for him a few hours ago.

“i know! it’s this stupid fuckin’ tie!” he shouts back, staring at himself in the little mirror you purchased, smiling a little despite himself when he remembers that trip to the home decor store with you, picking out new items that represent the both of you for your apartment.

speak of the devil, you step up behind him, looking gorgeous in a red, floor length dress, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“you look really good bambi,” you grin, fingers dragging down his abdomen to rest on his waistband, but his hands stop your downward motion while he gives you a halfhearted glare through the reflection.

“don’t start that shit,” katsuki turns around in your hold to face you, your hands immediately finding his undone tie. you work efficiently, face so scrunched up and focused that katsuki can only lift your face to press a kiss to your lips.

you melt, kissing him back easily and when you pull away, his lips are tinged with your lip products, marked by you. “you have a little something…” you trail off, wiping it away, not realizing how he stares at you like you’re the sun and he has no other choice but to revolve around you.

“marry me,” katsuki blurts, heat burning at the tips of his ears after a moment of you looking at him in utter disbelief.

he worries for a split second that you’re going to say no, but then your face splits into the most blinding smile he’s ever seen.

“are you proposing to me right now, bakugou katsuki?” you tease, fingers toying with the tie around his neck.

he nods, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer to him. “so what if i am?”

you laugh and nod, tears filling your lash line as the lighthearted facade drops to reveal you, earnest and honest and so so in love with him.

katsuki has no idea how he got so lucky, what he did in a past life to have you in his life and agreeing to be with him, in his life forever.

“of fucking course, i’ll marry you,” you say, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. “and i want nothing more than to make love to you on our brand new ikea sofa, but if we’re late to kiri’s wedding, he’s gonna kill me and make you watch.”

even the empty threat you make through your happy tears centers you in katsuki’s life, like you know that you are the center of his world, of his entire universe. you always know, know him better than he knows himself and there isn’t anyone on this whole earth who he’d rather be with than you.

he doesn’t tell you any of this though, blinking back tears instead and agreeing with a laugh, before finally ushering the pair of you out the door.

the thing is, katsuki doesn’t have to tell you.

you already know.

[hijackalx]

FEMALE BG3 CHARACTERS EATING OUT F!READER +18

characters included: karlach, shadowheart, lae’zel, minthara

MALE BG3 CHARACTERS

SHADOWHEART

okay i LOVE the idea of overeager inexperienced shadowheart like it’s SO hot……

she’s a little aggressive and all over the place but she DOES NOT CARE 😹😹

she also gives me selfish vibes, so if she’s eating you out she’s doing it solely for her OWN enjoyment LMAO

loves to tell you to hold still or to be quiet, that way when you slip up she can degrade you

“shut up, you sound like a whore” or “squirming already? how pathetic” she is MEAN

will also knead your tits the whole time. not softly either— it will make you gasp and that’s exactly why she does it 😹😹

prefers to have your hands bound above your head so you can’t touch her. she likes seeing how frustrated you get when you can’t pull on her hair/move closer when she teases

will spit on it. and she will hold eye contact with you while you watch as it drips from her mouth onto your pussy

gets SO wet from eating you out

she will reach between her legs every once in a while to touch herself because she gets so worked up

sometimes she’ll get too distracted in her own pleasure and just start whimpering/panting into your pussy

if she doesn’t already finish before you then she’ll IMMEDIATELY want you to return the favor

KARLACH

she aims to PLEASE

you WILL be having a life changing orgasm every time. no 3 second O’s over here baby 😹😹

she can tell when you’re close and adjusts her pace to make you hold off for just a littleee longer (a lot longer)

wishes she could live in between your legs. obsessed with the way you smell and taste so much

likes when you start telling her what to do— she is more than happy to do what you want because of how badly she wants to watch you come apart

grab her by the horns and move her where you want and she’ll moan

will dig her nails (claws?) into your thighs occasionally, not because she wants to hurt you but because she gets so into it

if she leaves marks she’ll make sure to kiss them better 💗

the more of a reaction you give her the more her tail thrashes around excitedly. it has a mind of its own honestly 😹😹

speaks almost exclusively in praise and reassurance. “you’re being so patient for me”, “don’t worry— mama’s gonna take good care of you”

LOVES having your thighs over her shoulders and against her head/ears. also likes that she can feel every involuntary twitch and tremor of your legs on her back

lowkey likes when she can still smell you on her top lip afterwards LMAO 😹😹

MINTHARA

you would think she’d be aggressive and mean but i think she’s lowkey pretty sensual? still very stern though. very much giving mommy dom vibes

EXPERIENCED. she knows what she’s doing and you can tell

will make you BEG !!!!!!

teases you with her tongue until you are whimpering and crying for her. needs to see you fully submit before she gives you what you want

you need to be aware of how lucky you are that she wants to do this. she doesn’t give head to just anyone

will always encourage you to be loud. if she notices that you’re suppressing your voice she’ll pull away— she needs to be able to hear you otherwise she feels like it’s not worth it 😹😹

can be really sweet in subtle ways. will kiss your pussy/inner thighs occasionally or absentmindedly run her thumb over your skin

also if you reach out to hold her hand she’ll give it to you without hesitation

her tone when she talks to you is almost condescending. she thinks it’s kind of pathetic how badly you need her. but she loves it

“your eagerness to give in to me is pitiful”, “you’re a greedy little thing”

sometimes she’ll hum/groan into your pussy with her low, raspy voice and it’s so 😩

will kiss you while/after you come so you taste yourself. with LOTS of tongue

LAE’ZEL

y’all are not going to want to hear this but i get pillow princess vibes from lae’zel LMFAO

i think she defaults to the receiving end so her eating you out is something you have to initiate. she WILL do it though

she has the most perfect, pouty lips for eating pussy. they’re so soft and plump 🥵

LOVES when u pull her hair. she tries to hold back her moans but if you do it enough she’ll eventually give up lol

a glutton for praise— she needs the reassurance that she’s doing a good job. she can’t stand the thought of not being perfect at something 😹😹

will want you to hold your thighs up towards your stomach so you’re as spread open as possible lol. that way she can tease your hole easier. also she just thinks it’s hot

loves the way your thighs look in that position. will run her hands over them a lot. usually pretty roughly

likes to use her fingers while she eats you out too. just overall really handsy

REALLY possessive over your body, but especially your pussy. she seriously worships it

doesn’t really talk a lot, mostly just groaning/growly type noises. will occasionally say something like “you’re mine” or “you belong to me”

gets sooo excited when she can tell you’re about to cum lmao she watches you SO intently with her big doe eyes. she has no idea how cute she looks (don’t tell her or she’ll get flustered 😹😹)

smugly waits for you to tell her how amazing it was afterwards

[lovecla]

TEACH ME (HOW TO MAKE HIM COME) | jack hughes.

nhl masterlist, nsfw, @lovecla’s kinktober collection, chapter two:

<last chapter> <next chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: smut (f. fingering, dirty talk).

➴ word count: 3k

💌 from me to you: listen… if you already read any of my works you know that i don’t know how to write smut. i just wanted to write something for kinktober but turns out this is much harder for me than expected lmfao i hope u guys still like me and forgive me for all my sins.

𖧷

YOU TOOK a deep breath before knocking on Jack’s door.

It has now been a week since you asked Jack to be your “sex teacher”, and today would be your first “lesson”— if you could even call this a lesson.

Jack opened the door after a few minutes, smiling like he had just won the Stanley Cup, wearing a backwards hat, a plain, black t-shirt and pants.

Now that you’re really looking at him, Jack is fine. Like, really, really handsome. You get the Hughes brothers appeal now.

“Hey, pretty,” he greets you, nodding with his head and letting you in. “Right on time. Someone’s eager.”

You blush, dropping your things on his couch. “Well, what can I do?”

Jack closes the door behind him and leans against it.

“Are you excited?” He asks, looking genuinely interested in your answer.

“I don’t know if excited is the exact word,” you hum. “I’m really nervous. And anxious too. I barely slept tonight.”

He chuckles, walking towards you and stopping in front of you, putting a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“You don’t have to be nervous, baby. Sex isn’t a seven headed monster. It just has one head, maybe two if it’s a really good day.”

You give him a slap on the chest seconds after you get what he meant, hearing his loud laugh.

“You’re being mean.” You mumble, already embarrassed. “What… What are you teaching me today?”

He stops laughing and clicks his tongue.

“Today, you’ll learn how to get yourself off.”

You almost lose all of your senses.

“What? Me?” You yell, confused. “I thought— I thought this was about learning how to make a guy… Well. You know!”

“Before learning how to please others, you’ll have to learn how to please yourself,” he answers, looking dead serious. “I’m not gonna teach you how to make a guy come if I know you won’t be enjoying it.”

“Y-you don’t know that,” you stutter. “Zack probably knows how to get a girl off.”

Jack smirks, but doesn’t say anything. His cockiness made you want to punch him sometimes.

“When was the last time you touched yourself?” He asks the question staring deeply into your soul and you are one hundred percent sure that you won’t make it through this evening.

“Jack!” You shout again, looking everywhere but his face.

He sighs, and before you can even think about doing anything, he gently grabs your chin, forcing you to look at his sapphire eyes.

“Listen, pretty,” he starts, his voice soft and gentle. “Having sex is normal and so is touching yourself. If you’re not comfortable with me touching you, you just have to say it, but I really think that, for this to work, you’ll have to trust me.”

You stop looking at him, only to have his finger pressing your chin again. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I do, I really do. It’s just that— this is weird to me. I want to have s-sex but what if… what if I’m terrible at it and what if I’m, I don’t know, boring?”

“That won’t happen, baby. And even if it does, who cares?” He licks his lips. “I’m here to help you. So just relax, okay?”

You bite your bottom lip before nodding once. Jack’s face lightens up and he smiles brightly at you.

“Good girl.”

𖧷

“THE KEY to knowing how to make yourself feel good, is exploring. Trying to get to know what you like and what you don’t like.”

You were sitting on Jack’s bed, your legs crossed and your hands resting on your lap. Jack was standing in front of you, looking you in the eye.

“Some girls like it when things are rough, when the touch hurts,” he explains, running his fingers down your neck, moving into your shoulder and arms, his touch making you shiver slightly. “Some girls like it when it’s gentle and slow. It’s up to you to find out what you like, mhm?”

You nod with your head, because speaking would just be too much trouble. Maybe you were too touch starved, because just the pressure of Jack’s fingers against your skin made you feel things you have never felt before.

He moved on to your mouth, tracing the line of your lips before parting them slightly with his thumb.

“Can I kiss you, baby?”

“K-kiss me?” You choke on your own saliva. “Why do you want to kiss me? That makes no sense and—” he stares at you with funny eyes. Right. “Okay. Trust you. Okay, fine.”

He grins but doesn’t say anything else and honestly, you’re thankful for it. His silence makes it a whole less awkward and embarrassing. Kissing your friend of years it’s already strange as it is.

Or at least that’s what you thought kissing Jack would feel like, before you felt his lips on yours. His right hand held your chin up, tilting your head just the slightest bit to the side so he could angle his mouth with yours just fine.

His tongue caressed yours with determination, Jack kissed like he knew what he wanted, and you guess he probably does. It wasn’t like any of the other boys you managed to kiss, no. Jack kissed with a purpose, and that purpose was driving you crazy.

He gently pushed your body back, making you lay completely on his bed, your back touching his soft covers. The weight of his body on top of yours definitely did something to you, even if you couldn’t explain what.

He pulls back after your lips are swollen, and even so, you catch yourself pushing further for more, frowning when he shakes his head no.

“I’m gonna touch you now, okay?” He asks, and you nod your head, eagerly, making him chuckle. “Words, baby.”

“Yes,” you breathe, feeling weird.

He blinks once before gluing his lips to yours again, this time not even asking for permission before touching your tongue with his, his hands moving immediately around your body. Touching your neck, shoulders and hips before moving back to your chest.

You were glad you had chosen not to wear a bra, since now Jack’s access to your boobs was easier. He put his hands inside of your tank top, squeezing your nipple between his index and thumb.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, and you think a million things at once, most of them synonyms for the word “good”. “Sarah?”

“Mhm,” you mumble, closing your eyes when he pulls your nipple and squeezes it, hard. “It does.”

“For you to feel good, you have to set the mood, y’know what I mean?” He sounds like a goddamn teacher and you want to kiss him again. “What’s the fun in getting off if you won’t play with the rest of your body?”

You feel your face burn, because that’s exactly what you thought getting off was: just laying in bed and touching yourself down there, and nothing else.

You jump slightly when you feel something wet around your left nipple, only after realizing it was his mouth. Is this a thing? Do guys do this all the time? And why does it feel so fucking good—

Your first moan comes off as a surprise to you and Jack; you can tell by the way he presses his fingers on your waist harder, the sound making you feel embarrassed for a second.

He moves onto the next, doing the same thing he just did to the other, and you remove his hat just to run your hands through his silky, now short hair.

His hand, the one that had been resting on your hips this entire time, goes to your right thigh, squeezing it hard. He lets go of you, and gets up, leaving you alone in his bed.

“Let’s get you naked, hm?”

Nodding, you get up to a sitting position, holding the hem of your shirt before his hand stops you. He holds your hand before moving you out of the bed, making you stand in front of him. His eyes are asking for permission again and once you give it to him, he starts by unbuttoning your jeans and helping you get out of them, leaving you with your lacy panties and your tank top.

And to your absolute horror, you only then realized that you were wet; your panties were glued to your pussy, and you could feel the sticky liquid coming out of you.

Jack doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he moves on with his task of getting you naked, removing your white top and staring shamelessly at your tits.

“Stop looking at them,” you murmur, hiding your boobs with your hands.

He cocks his head to the side. “Why should I? They’re pretty, just like you.”

“It’s embarassing.” You reply, looking at your feet.

“No, it isn’t, baby,” he snickers, placing his hands on top of yours and removing them from your tits. Then, he pointed at the bed with his head, silently asking for you to lay there again, which you promptly did. You were anxious and excited for what was coming. Besides, it was getting hard to ignore the wetness between your legs.

You laid with your back on the mattress and your head on his pillow, watching as he did the same, laying sideways, with his hand supporting his head. Even if the only light illuminating the room is coming from his bedside lamps, you could tell that his blue eyes were dark, full of something that you couldn’t name, but that was starting to make sense to you.

Because you were sure that if you looked in the mirror, you’d see the same thing reflected in yours.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” he whispers, and you can’t help but whimper as you feel his fingers tracing imaginary drawings on your body; your neck, your shoulders, your chest, your tummy, your—

You hold your breath as he toys with the bow in front of panties, squeezing your thighs together as soon as he moves a little bit down.

“Sarah,” he calls beside you, and the only thing you can do is look at him and wait for him to continue. “Open your legs for me, baby.”

“N-no.”

He frowns, confused. “No?”

“‘M wet,” you whisper, feeling the reddeness take over your cheeks.

Jack chuckles, resuming playing with your underwear.

“That’s the goal, baby. It means that we’re doing great work.”

You’re doing great work, you want to tell him, but you choose to stay quiet, the situation already embarrassing enough as it is.

Slowly, you reopen your legs, separating your thighs until your left one touches Jack’s stomach. He hums as he removes your underwear, the cold breeze hitting your pussy and making you shiver.

His fingers slowly find their way back to your core, and when Jack touches your clit, you can finally release the moan you didn’t even know you had been holding this entire time. His finger’s cold, and as he gently rubs your sensitive nub, you start to wonder why it has never felt this good for you before.

Of course, you’ve felt aroused before, especially when you were a teenager. But never enough to actually do something about it— the few times you tried to make yourself come, you’d always stop midway and feel guilty for the next three hours, even if getting off wasn’t anything shameful.

But this? Feeling Jack’s breaths near your neck, his left hand holding your legs open while his right one spreads the slick coming out of you on your folds and clit, the rub that was once gentle, now stong and precise.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he murmurs, kissing you on the lips again. As he tongue fights for space inside your mouth, you can feel his index finger circling your clenching hole. “You can either put a finger inside or just rub here,” he explains, touching your clit again, making you remember why you were laying naked on his bed in the first place. Right, you tell yourself, we’re here for Zack, and for Zack only. “Just do what feels good for you.”

You can feel your walls tightening around his finger as he tries to put it inside you and you bite your lips, holding back a whimper.

“You need to relax, baby, otherwise this will hurt,” he says, soft voice reaching your ears like honey. “Do you want me to stop?”

You shake your head fast. “No, please,”

You can almost hear the smile in his voice when he mumbles a soft “okay”, as you try your hardest to relax. He dips his finger inside of you, while his thumb works fast on the aching button, the wet sound of his fingers on your pussy making you cringe momentarily.

It was different, having something inside you, but a good type of different. And knowing that Jack is the one making you feel this fucking good? Definitely helps a lot.

“I wanna hear you, baby, come on,” he asks, his lips touching your cheek with how close he is. “Make those pretty sounds for me again. Can you do that?”

“Mhm,” you let out a series of sounds, trying not to think so hard. If Jack wanted you to moan for him, you would. “Jack.”

“Does it feel good, pretty?” He smirks, moving his fingers faster, his grip on your tight strong enough to bruise your skin. “Does your little, tight pussy feel good around my fingers? Good enough to make you come for me?”

His dirty, crude words made the red on your face deepen, but at this point, with his finger shoved deep inside of you and his tireless rubbing on your swollen clit, you didn’t care much.

The only thing in your head was the need to release yourself in his hands.

“Answer me, or I’ll stop,” he orders and you roll your eyes, holding his neck with your arms, gluing your chest to his clothed body, his finger reaching deeper inside you with the new angle. “Sarah—”

“It d-does,” you stutter, breathing in his perfume. God, he smells so fucking good. “It feels so good, Jack, I don’t want you to stop, I—”

“Are you going to come, baby?”

“Dunno,” mumbling, you grab his hair, pulling it. “I want to.”

“Then come on, baby. I’ll talk you through it,” he whispers in your ear, biting your lobe right after.

“No,” you moan. “That’s… embarrassing.”

He chuckles, pressing his thumb against your clit, making you arch your back with how sensitive you were. “What’s so embarrassing about me talking you through? Telling you how good your pussy feels around my finger? How hot and wet you are, taking me so well and deep too.”

“Jack—”

“Have you wondered about how my dick’s going to feel inside you?” He licks your cheek before kissing it gently. “How deep I’ll be. How I’ll make you beg and cry for my cock, so I can wreck your pussy and have you moaning for me. And you’ll wet my sheets, just like you’re doing right now, won’t you, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes,”

“And it’ll feel so good, right, pretty? You’ll let me hear those pretty sounds of yours while I teach you how to take a cock, hm?”

Still with your nose buried in his chest, your body moving forward with each of his thrusts, you shake your head. “No— teach me how to take y-your cock, Jack.”

Why the hell did you just say that, somewhere, someone, inside your mind asks you, what about Zack?

What about him?

Jack’s chuckle brings you back for a moment. “‘Course, pretty. Teach you how to take my cock.”

Satisfied, you hold him closer, closing your legs together, the tension inside of you growing with each thrust. You weren’t sure of what was going to happen, but it felt so fucking good.

“Jack— I’m gonna.”

His fingers only manage to go faster, reach deeper.

“Come for me, baby,”

Even if this is— officially— your first time coming, you still don’t understand how your body just responded to Jack so well, and how you literally came on command— something inside you made you think that this doesn’t happen often.

But there was just something about him teaching you how to make yourself this wet, how he left your pussy sore and clenching around nothing, how his blue eyes never left yours and how his blondish, damp hair is sticking to his forehead, making he look ten times hotter than he already normally does.

How haven’t we ever noticed he’s this fine?

“Hi,” you whisper, smiling tiredly and laying on his chest.

He smiles back. “Hi, pretty.”

“This was… definitely something.”

“How do you rate your class from zero to ten?” He joked and you laugh quietly.

“A ten,” you mumble. “An eleven if you let me stay the night.”

“I wasn’t going to let you leave anyway but if telling you yes will make my score go higher then yes, please, you can spend the night here,” he kisses your lips briefly, before pulling back, a somewhat worried expression decorating his beautiful, angelic face. “Does Z know where you are?”

“Told him I’d sleep at my friend’s house,” you say, not feeling even the slightest bit bad for lying to Trevor. I mean, you had just come on Jack Hughes’ fingers after he got you off and sucked your tits. Trevor can go to hell for all you care.

“Mhm,” Jack hums, getting up suddenly and taking you with him. “Let’s get you cleaned up and we’ll go to sleep.”

You wanted to protest but he was right, you both had to clean yourselves up. And showering with him didn’t sound so bad.

At all.

Phase two of getting Zack to like you: complete.

[festivalsofmargot]

how do you think Ominis, Garreth, and Sebastian would react to a jealous reader being jealous because someone else was being flirty and asking them to the Yule Ball?

The 3 Boys & Your Jealousy

{Garreth Weasley/Ominis Gaunt/Sebastian Sallow x GN!Reader}

Word Count: 

Garreth: ~ 1500 words

Ominis: ~ 1700 words

Sebastian: ~ 1400 words

Warnings: Kissing, Fluff, Angst

Author’s Note: Lord, I’m having so much fun with these requests. Thank you, anon!!! I tried to make them all have different reactions to reader getting jealous, but I know they’d all secretly love it lmfao. So it’s a little similar, but it’s definitely the 3 boys enjoying it in their own way. Have a fun time, everyone 🥰 Hope you’re all having a good day ❤ 

Songs (if interested):

Garreth’s song: You Stupid Bitch - girl in red

Ominis’ song: Silence / akiaura - hentai boys, akiaura

Sebastian’s song: My Kind of Woman - Mac DeMarco

-

Garreth:

“I feel like you’ve been avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?” Garreth Weasley had come up to you and asked. For someone who was asking if something was wrong, he could look a bit more concerned. Rather than just munching on his apple, looking at it like it was the only thing that had his full attention.

You took a deep breath and rubbed at your temple roughly. You were overreacting and you knew it, but dammit you couldn’t help but hate him at the moment. “No Garreth, I’m just not in the best mood today.”

“Well, talk to me.” He plopped himself down on the Central Hall fountain bench next to you. “Some have called me a good listener.” He took another bite of his apple, obnoxiously loud.

“Not right now. Why don’t you go bother someone else?”

“Who else could I bother like this? You and I got a good thing going.” He haphazardly joked.

“How about your date to the ball? That’s a good place to start if you ask me.”

He furrowed his brows, trying to decipher what you were talking about. Then he remembered Samantha Dale had asked him to be his date the night before. “Oh! You know about that? How does word travel so fast in such a huge castle?” He wondered aloud with his mouth full, looking at his apple as he turned it in his hand.

Merlin, you didn’t know why you were so head over heels for Garreth Weasley. Something about his carefree, aloof attitude made you fluttery all over. You wanted to smack him just as much as you wanted to kiss him. 

Truth be told, you were convinced he was going to ask you to The Yule Ball. But once you saw Samantha Dale talking with him about it and seeing how big his smile was, you became so frustrated with yourself for ever thinking such a thing. How could you have been so wrong about his signs? You shouldn’t have assumed your flirty banter together was something special between the two of you. You had no one to blame but yourself.

“Look Garreth, I’m pretty busy. Samantha will be better company than me today.” You took out the essay you were halfway finished with and began writing, hoping he would take the hint.

He was about to take another bite of his apple when the pieces came together in his brain. You think I said yes to Samantha... and you're jealous. 

It was hard to keep calm when he felt so elated. He had been pining for you since 5th year and never had the courage to confess his feelings. Being with you as a friend was better than risking not being with you at all. But here you were, acting as green as his eyes. Becoming jumpy, he scratched the back of his head and looked away from you, trying to bite back his delighted smile.

“So...” He began as casually as he could, “You don’t like the idea of me going to the ball with Samantha?”

You stiffened. Am I caught? You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I don’t care who you go with, Weasley.”

You used his last name instead of his first, that was how he always knew if you were upset with him. In this particular moment, he took a dark pleasure in it. “Well, it sounds like you care a little.” 

You looked up from your essay to the marble floor in front of you and clenched your jaw, trying to calm your irritated nerves and stop yourself from saying something you’d regret. “It doesn’t matter if I care. Go with who you want.” You went back to your essay.

“But you care.” He slid closer to you so that his thigh was touching yours. Your whole body tensed and you shifted your leg away, disgusted at his brazenness to continue flirting with you when he was going to the ball with someone else.

“I’m going to work in my room.” You pulled your belongings together and left your place next to him.

Garreth got up and followed you easily, finishing the last of his apple and tossing it in a nearby bin. He rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth to wipe off any apple juice. Maybe he could wipe off his idiotic smile while he was at it too. 

You could feel his chest practically against your back as he followed close in pursuit. “Leave me alone, Garreth. I’m really not in the mood today.” You growled at him, but he didn’t let up. 

He took glances around as he kept up with you. Once he was confident no one was looking, he grabbed your arm and pulled you into a nearby, empty corridor.

“What are you -”

“Tell me you’re jealous. I want to hear you say it.” 

His words sent your mind through a whirlwind and you shoved him away. “You got some nerve, going to the ball with Samantha and going after me like this -”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake! I turned her down. School gossip failed to mention that part, I see.” He interjected. “Now let me have this a little longer.” He stepped closer to you, daring you to push him away again. “This thing where you want me all to yourself, I think I really like it.” His words came off as a jest, but he was genuinely aroused.

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to determine if he was being truthful or just trying to keep up his flirty banter with you. But your icy glare at him through your lashes only made him more feral rather than intimidated. 

“I -” He cleared his throat, regaining composure. “I’ve been looking for you all day so I could ask you to the ball, but you kept dodging me.”

“Garreth, if this is some sort of messed up joke where you try to get two dates to the ball -”

“It’s not. But, that is a fun idea.” He quipped, hoping it would lighten the mood. 

Sighing, you turned on your heel to walk away.

“Sorry sorry sorry, bad joke, bad time.” He grabbed your wrist, panicked. “But I’m serious about taking you. I really want to take you.” He swallowed thickly and held your wrist in his hand. “Would you... want that too?” As he waited for you to respond, he had started stroking your skin with his thumb, unaware he was doing so.

His hopeful look along with his tone had managed to convince you he was being truthful. This was the first step either of you had taken beyond flirty banter, and it had you finally soften to him that day. You looked at his hand on your wrist and adjusted so you could entwine your fingers through his. His heart nearly burst out of his chest. Was this finally happening?

You looked up at him then, but locked on his lips rather than his eyes. Heat formed in his abdomen at your gaze. He used his free hand to cup your jaw. The dark look in your eyes told him you had the same severe craving for him as he did you. He eased towards you and brushed his lips over yours.

He pulled back to gauge your reaction. You looked at him with wide eyes and for a brief moment, he thought he had messed up and taken it too far. But all that panic went away when you dropped your books and threw your arms around him, seizing his lips, taking all coyness between you two and throwing it out the window.

Your sudden burst had rocked him both physically and mentally. Gripping you back, hard and fast, he steadied himself, stepping on your essay as he did so. He matched your eager mouth movements with just as much intensity. 

Needing to come back up for air, you pulled back. You looked at each other, breathless. All that tension between you two through the years had finally been able to get released at least somewhat.

“You looked so happy when Samantha asked you. I assumed you said yes.” You told him, still catching your breath.

He hadn’t realized you had been there to see Samantha asking him to the ball. He was both sorry you didn’t catch him rejecting her and sorry you had to catch it at all. Merlin only knows how he would have handled watching someone else asking you. “She’s a good friend, I mean I wasn’t going to scowl or laugh her off. I was letting her down as easy as I could.”

“I’m sorry I was jealous.”

He kept his face close to yours and glanced back at your lips, ready for more. “I’m sorry I enjoyed it.”

“No, you’re not.” 

“I’m not.” He captured your lips once more.

- 

Ominis:

Ominis was in a full on panic. He hadn’t the faintest idea what he had done wrong. He may be blind, but he could sense, clear as day, that you were upset with him. 

He was pacing back and forth in his dorm room when he was supposed to be at dinner. The sickness he felt had made it hard for him to want to digest anything.

He had been up at all hours of the night thinking about how he was going to ask you to The Yule Ball. But every time he tried to approach you that day, you’d take your leave. He thought he would have gotten his chance in History of Magic class, but everything seemed off. You usually tried to sit close to him and brush your fingers along his, it excited him each and every time. But today, he felt as if you were sitting as far as you possibly could from him.

He was trying to think back on everything that happened before you became so drastically distant. The last time he remembers you two being fine was when he had finally built up the courage to ask you that morning. 

Sebastian had pushed him to do it and fueled his ego to prep him, affirming that he saw the way you looked at him and how you weren’t so subtle about it. He was filled with so much joy, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling like a buffoon when he went to talk to you. 

“Ominis!” You had greeted him so cheerfully, it had removed any doubt in what Sebastian told him. As he was about to greet you back, Adelaide Oakes had touched his shoulder from behind to grab his attention. She then went on and on about how she fancied him, and took the ball as her chance to finally tell him how she felt. He had never been so overwhelmed with romantic attention in his life, it only fueled his confidence more. His words came out in a stutter to Adelaide to thank her but decline. It was difficult to turn someone down while grinning like a fool.

“I um - I'll leave you two to it.” He heard you say before he finished speaking with Adelaide. Your footsteps behind him had walked away so fast, he would have believed it if you were running. And ever since, for some reason you’ve been... oh. It hit him then. You must have assumed he was going to say yes to Adelaide. You couldn’t possibly be jealous, could you? If you were, he needed to find you and fix this immediately. But damn him if he wasn’t a bit thrilled at the idea.

He had his wand guide him to the first place he thought you could be in, the astronomy tower. It was late in the day, he was sure you’d be there. As he made his way up, he found his excitement at your jealousy swelling. You weren’t jealous because he was a Gaunt, a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, going with someone else. No, you were jealous because he was Ominis, a boy you liked for who he was, going with someone else. Or so you thought.

When his wand brought him to the astronomy tower and sensed you were close, he felt a bit of pride that he knew you as well as he thought he did. But he steadied himself, remembering you were upset with him. Coming at you beaming probably wasn’t the best approach.

“Ominis? What brings you here?” Your voice was monotone, nowhere near as pleased to see him as you were earlier.

He was relieved you were willing to speak to him rather than run off. “I needed to talk to you. Figured you’d be up here.” He approached cautiously.

You furrowed your brows, wondering what he could possibly need you for. Oh you’d just die if he wanted to ask for advice on how to treat Adelaide well at the ball. You turned away from him and lazily looked through your telescope. “Probably best we talk tomorrow.”

“You’re upset with me.”

You peeked up at him briefly, knowing it wasn’t fair to be, then went back to your telescope. You exhaled, inwardly chiding yourself. Ominis doesn’t owe you anything. “I’m sorry, I’ve just... had a lot on my mind.”

His wand guided him to the railing you were near and he leaned himself against it. “I’m all ears.” Part of him wanted to clear everything up as soon as possible, but another, increasingly louder part of him wanted to hear you confess that you were jealous, confess that you didn’t want anyone else to have him but you. So, he dared to play coy a little longer.

“You don’t want to hear what I have to say.”

“Try me.” The way he said it had taken you aback, as if he was telling you, not asking you, to talk to him.

“And what if I don’t want to tell you?” You looked back up at him, a bit of venom coming through.

He took a few steps towards your voice. I think I like this game. He knew he shouldn’t find your jealousy this exhilarating, but he did. He wanted it to absorb you until you couldn’t stand it anymore.

The look on his face stirred something fierce in you and you tried to take a quiet, calming breath. You hoped he wouldn’t hear you doing so, but he did, and it only added fuel to his fire.

“I don’t hear you walking away, so I think you do want to tell me.” He reached out for your robes and pulled at you to come closer to him. 

You had been weak for Ominis Gaunt since 5th year, so you obliged. But you didn’t do so without internally screaming at yourself for being such a fool. 

Despite being so close, you kept your hands to yourself, he noted. But he could sense your body tensing and he knew you were close to talking. He just needed to hold out a bit longer, push you just so in the right direction. “You’re angry with me, tell me why.” He knew why.

“I shouldn’t be angry with you.”

“Yet you are.”

“I am.”

“Tell me what I’ve done.”

“You... haven’t done anything.”

His grip moved from your robe to your waist, he could feel you shift at his touch, but you didn’t pull away. “I have, tell me.”

“You know, you shouldn’t be up here with me alone, touching me like you are. Wouldn’t want Adelaide or me getting the wrong idea, would you?” He could hear the bitterness in your voice, and it was sending him over the edge. You shoved his hand away and went to the railing, leaning forward and looking out. “I don’t think you mean to, Ominis. But you’re really messing with my head. Looking as happy as you were when Adelaide asked you to the ball, and now you’re here acting like you care for me.”

He followed your voice again and came up behind you. His hands found your shoulders and he comfortingly slid them down to your biceps. His touch still had the same, nerve-racking affect on you. You shrugged him off and turned to face him. He put both hands on the railing on either side of you, trapping you in. “I do care for you.”

As a friend. You wanted to finish for him. Him saying this to you knowing he was going to The Yule Ball with Adelaide hurt. Ominis was the last person who should be comforting you. “I need to go.” You nearly choked, heartbreak constricting your throat. But Ominis kept you blocked in, he wasn’t going to let you leave. 

“Tell me why I’ve upset you.”

Being in this position with him had an inferno swirling in you. Being able to see his pale, blue eyes this close had any fight in you vanish. “I wanted... you to ask me to The Yule Ball today. I wanted you to go with me, not Adelaide.” 

He leaned forward towards your neck and brushed his nose along your skin. 

Your melancholy turned into something else at his touch, something more throbbing. You reached your hands up along his chest, felt his heartrate pick up along with yours. “I want you to be with me.” You confessed in a whisper.

He began to kiss at your neck and you fisted the fabric of his uniform to keep yourself upright. He kissed up your neck, along your jaw, feeling his way to find your lips. He got to the corner of your mouth and pulled back just slightly, leaning his forehead against yours.

“I want you all to myself.”

He crashed his lips into yours. Your hands held tight to his shirt to keep him close. He took his hands off the railing to wrap his arms around your waist, his place against your mouth feeling all the more secure. You nipped at his bottom lip and he couldn’t help but let out a throaty “mmh.” 

He often tried to imagine what it would feel like to kiss you, the taste of your lips, the sensation of your hands roaming him as pretty as you pleased. This moment had been better than anything he conjured up in his head. He had never envisioned how much hot need would be in it until he had you there in his arms.

You tried to push him away suddenly, but he kept at you, not yet having had his fill. “Wait -” You caved for a brief moment and kissed him back, then pulled away again. “What about -”

“I said no to Adelaide.” He went back to your lips, then to your neck to explain himself so you’d stop pulling away. “I was going to ask you. But you ran off.” He hoped that was enough to stop any further questions, because his mind was already onto more pressing matters. He had heard that sucking on someone’s neck would leave marks, he decided to try it on you then.

You bit your lip, trying to keep your eyes from rolling into the back of your head. “You um -” You cleared your throat, “You still want to ask me?”

“I will, but let’s not talk right now.” 

-

Sebastian:

“What has gotten into you today?” Sebastian caught you off guard, shutting the greenhouse door behind him. You were tending to the carnivorous plants for Professor Garlick, you being the only student she really entrusted with such duties. 

You glanced at him over your shoulder, then brought your focus back to the plants. “I’m a little busy right now, Sebastian.”

He had never heard you speak to him with such acidity, you might as well have slapped him in the face. You had been in a sour mood with him all day. Of all the times for you to be upset with him, why did it have to be the day he had finally decided to confess his feelings and ask you to The Yule Ball? He strode to your side and bore his gaze into you, willing you to face him and explain yourself.

You didn’t give in and continued tending to the chomping cabbages. Sebastian was the last person you wanted to see. After everything the two of you had gone through, all the glimpses you gave each other, all the near kisses, how could it not mean the same for him as it did you? Was his overprotectiveness for you something brotherly rather than romantic? You felt so stupid having mixed the two. You had fallen so deeply in love with him through the years, and now you’ve come to find he doesn’t see you in that way. He made it very obvious how smitten he was when Grace Pinch-Smedley fawned over him, professing her love and asking him to the ball. 

“At least tell me what's upset you so.” He said sternly, interrupting your tragic thoughts.

You knew you should wait until your anger dissipated before speaking with him, but in that moment you didn’t care. You set down your gardening tools and turned to face him.

“How about we talk about you first, Sebastian?”

He let out a frustrated exhale through his nose and crossed his arms over his chest. “What about me?”

“I saw you and Grace speaking this morning, seems you were quite pleased with yourself. Care to share?”

He quirked his brow, not sure where you were heading with this. He remembered Grace speaking with him, but he didn’t remember feeling ‘pleased with himself’. “You saw Grace and I, did you?”

“I did.” You turned back to the chomping cabbages then. “Seems she was doing more than just asking you to the ball.”

He inwardly cringed at the memory. He was flattered at her confession, sure. But the part where he had to reject her had really taken away anything pleasant about the moment. “She told me she had been... harboring feelings for me.” He got shifty thinking back on it, getting rejected after spilling your guts like that must be dreadful.

You took note of his body language, and rosy cheeks. It was salt in the wound and the scowl on your face deepened. “No need to be so bloody bashful about it, Sebastian.” You mumbled.

He stilled then. You thought he was ‘bashful’ thinking back on his interaction with Grace? The gears in his brain started turning.

In that moment, you figured this was your last chance to lay it all out there for him. Since Grace very blatantly told him she wanted more than just a date to the ball, best to tell him how you felt now before they were officially together.

You turned to him fully. “Sebastian, do you care for me?”

His heart began racing and he straightened. “Of course.”

“Like you care for Anne and Ominis?"

“I do.” He said with conviction.

“So, like a sibling?”

“I - Well, I -”

“Because I don’t care for you like a brother, Sebastian.” You took a step towards him.

He was entranced, listening close to everything you had to say. The air between you two grew thick and it clicked for him then. The possessiveness he usually felt over you was now what you were feeling over him. You were under the impression he accepted Grace’s feelings... and you can’t stand it. A rousing sensation shot through him. He wanted to see what more you would do with this newfound greediness for him. 

“Perhaps you should have gotten to me before Grace did.” It was bold. He knew he was treading on thin ice, but seeing you act in the way he usually did was a turn of the tables he never knew he wanted to see. He was going to egg you on, get as much of this avaricious side out of you as he could before you devoured him like the plants in this room wanted to.

You reached out to him and began trifling with his tie. He stood perfectly still, afraid that if he moved you’d get discouraged and release him. “Are you telling me you would have been mine if I got to you first?”

Oh yes. “Suppose we’ll never know, considering you didn’t.” This wasn’t at all how he thought confessing his feelings to you would go. But this was a much more electrifying way to do so.

The two of you had unknowingly stepped closer to one another, pulled together like magnetic stones. Your hands were no longer fiddling with his tie, but rather holding it, ever so gently pulling him towards you. “So I’ve lost you, have I?”

Fight for me. Don’t let anyone else have me. “And if you have?” He wanted to find out what your lips tasted like more than he ever had before. He was so close, and eyed them oh so hungrily. But he tried to hold strong a bit longer, so he could know if you were feeling just as carnivorous for him as he always had for you.

The fire in your eyes almost had him on his knees. 

Claim me. Claim me as I’ve claimed you.

Giving his tie a hard yank, you pulled him to you and caught his lips with yours. You didn’t waste any time, straightaway tasting his bottom lip with your tongue. Keeping an unyielding grip on his tie, you shot a hand up to his hair and held tight. He put his hands on your hips, and couldn’t stop himself from pulling at your shirt so it came untucked. His hands roamed around your lower back, under your shirt to feel your skin.

Your movements in this kiss were the result of years of pining. There was both an ache to take it slow, feeling everything you both possibly could, and an urgency to make up for lost time right then and there. Now that you finally had him... Wait wait wait, I don’t have him.

You tore yourself from him and walked away, tucking your shirt back in.

“Wha - What? Where are you going?” He was breathless and dizzy and disheveled from your kiss. Get back here.

“Go to Grace.”

He groaned. He should have known keeping up the Grace ruse would have some sort of consequence. But in the moment, he was so obsessive over the fact that you wanted to stake your claim on him, he couldn’t help himself. “I lied about Grace. I turned her down.”

You turned to face him, still keeping your distance across the greenhouse. “Why would you -”

“Because being near you makes me crazy, that’s why!” He shot a hand through his hair, more out of anguish than to fix the mess you made. “I’m mad for you. How have you not noticed? This... possessiveness you have over me today? I feel it for you all the time. So, I’m sorry if I crossed a line, I -” He let out a shaky breath, trying to put the words together. “Seeing you act how I have... I wanted to relish it a bit longer. Forgive me.”

You remained where you were, but he could see your features shift. “Enjoyed my suffering, did you?”

Trying to keep his composure, he nodded his head. Your sultry look had his blood heading somewhere it shouldn’t in the middle of the greenhouse.

He may have been slow catching onto your jealousy, but he was quick to catch that you wanted his lips back on yours. Ravenous himself, he strode up to you and pulled you back against him.