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haologram · 4 months ago

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what do i call you? 🕹️ k.mg [m]

synopsis: your best friend is a man of many facets - a creative architecture student, a skilled football player, a wonderful friend and a sought-after lover. not that he'd ever truly glance anyone's way, especially not when his heart has always been set on you. genre: college au, idiots friends to lovers au ; angst, fluff, suggestive ? slightly smutty? themes. pairing: football player!kim mingyu x fem!college journalist!reader word count: 15.3k rating: 18+. minors do not interact. warnings: swearing, mentions of smoking (weed), mentions of food and eating. mutual pining, vernon is a plot device (because i love him.) mentions of infidelity and situationships. vernon calls reader bunny. mingyu and y/n are fucking stupid. mentions of omegas (i had to do it.) kissing, petnames (baby, honey, pretty, etc.) brief dry humping, making out. what to listen to: what do i call you? - taeyeon ; run for the hills - tate mcrae ; number one girl - rosé ; rain - swv ; hooked on your love - en vogue ; cherish the day - sade ; call me baby - exo. author's note: happiest birthday to my dear @tomodachiii ♡ i hope you forgive me for having been so ominous in the chat, and know that i love you so dearly. also, i was going to write the smut but i chickened out, mingyu is just too sexy for my brain. please eat well and stay healthy. also, thank you to both @100vern & @wonuwoe for giving me their journalism insight, as i am unfortunately a woman in stem that knows nothing about it.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU'RE NOT WRITING THE COLUMN ABOUT ME?"

You roll your eyes, sighing as your fingers rub your temples. Your best friend is currently seated not even five feet away, his lower lip jutted out in a pout as the steam from his oxtail bone soup wafts in his face. You'd been attempting to soothe his woes about the stupid column piece for the last thirty minutes, even bribing him by saying you'd spend your last twenty dollars on dessert if he dropped the topic. While nothing can get in the way of Mingyu and his food, his best friend writing a column about a sport he plays, giving one player spotlight, and not choosing him was something he simply could not let go. "Y/N, that's not fair."

"Except it is, Gyu. All the features I've written this season have been about you. One more and people might think I'm in love with you." You huff, forcing your lips into a smile as the waitress slides your order of soft tofu stew in front of you. You thank her quietly, and she simply nods her head curtly before going about her way. Mingyu eyes your bowl, the pout on his lips only deepening as you sigh, sliding your bowl over for him to dip his spoon into.

"I just think you should care about me more." He sniffs, blowing softly on the spoonful of broth from your stew. You quirk a brow as he brings the spoon to his mouth, your own lips twitching slightly at the roll of his eyes from the perfect balance of flavors on his tongue. You loved watching him eat, it was one of your favorite past times.

Not that he needed to know that.

"Mingyu, I do care about you. The newspaper has given me six columns this season alone, and I've interviewed you every single time. Let someone else have a chance." You take your bowl back, but not before he spears the jiggly tofu with his spoon, making you snicker as he burns his tongue on it.

"Why would I do that when you're my best friend? Are you saying you want to give someone else that chance? Like who, Chan? You know he smells like macaroni, right? And he bites." Mingyu breathes around the hot piece of tofu in his mouth, and you only laugh as you slide his bowl of rice closer to you. You take a bit on your spoon, dipping it into your stew before shrugging your shoulders.

"Mingyu, everyone knows you're a star, okay? You've scored sixty-two out of sixty-seven touchdowns so far, and that's just this season. You're the only quarterback in Hawk history that hasn't blown out his shoulder, which is insane. You're one of the best players in terms of field time and academics. That thing you made for your Architectural Design course? Your Apartment of a Lonely Soul model? You got displayed at the Museum of Arts for that two fucking weeks ago, and I put you in the paper for that. The people love Kim Mingyu, I think it's only fair that I give someone else a smidge of the spotlight."

He rolls his eyes, but you see the faint blush creeping on his cheeks and ears as he takes a sip of his water.

Whether you care to admit it or not, you know that the people you speak of, also refer to you.

You know that the way you write about Mingyu in your columns is the way a proud friend does, someone who cares, someone who loves him – and you know it shows bias. You know that if anyone watched your relationship with Mingyu from afar, they could tell how much you care about him, how much he means to you, how much you love him.

And you're worried that one day, someone might look too close and realize that your love for him is nothing even remotely close to platonic.

It hasn't been for the last six years of your life-long friendship.

If someone asks you, you're honest. You tell them Mingyu has been your best friend for years. You tell them that you've soothed his broken heart time and time again, that he's held your hair while you've thrown up and he's scared off shitty guys constantly. You tell them that when he's drunk, he sends you ramblings on Snapchat and eventually makes his way to your apartment to crash on your couch. You tell them that you feed him before he crashes, and make him hydrate before he goes down.

You tell them that your mom loves Mingyu, and how helpful he is when he goes home with you every so often. You tell them that he makes the best short rib soup and you've never seen someone so willing to build a bookshelf with your father. You tell them that Mingyu gets along well with your siblings, even going as far as going home with you one summer to coach your little brother's flag football team with your dad.

And then, like always – they tell you that there's no man that does that for anyone he sees as just his friend.

You choose to ignore it.

You continue to write your pieces about him, long-winded and full of purple prose in order to talk him up. You're of the idea that everyone who is capable of loving, should love Mingyu. They do, everyone on campus adores the gentle giant that he is – everyone includes girl after girl after girl. Mingyu has had three girlfriends in the twenty years that you've been his friend. He's definitely the kind of guy that likes to commit – each one lasted anywhere from a year to three. His last one, Sowon, lasted a year and a half – before he found out that she was hooking up with a guy (read: your ex-boyfriend, Daewon) on the baseball team while he was at practice.

He didn't even need her to confirm it, because he walked in on it in the men's locker room. He'd been twenty minutes late to practice, opting to drive you to a game tech convention on the other side of town. You'd practically begged him to, saying that you wanted to write a report about it for your Digital Media course and he just couldn't say no. He doesn't remember exactly what he said to her, her eyes full of guilt and regret as she quickly dressed herself and pushed past him. However, he does remember the odd feeling in his chest, and the way he tried to figure it out as he skipped practice and drove all the way back to the other side of town to pick you up.

He remembers the look on your face when you came out of the convention with your phone in hand to get a rideshare, only to see him parked front and center waiting for you against the grill of his old pick-up truck. He didn't want to talk about it, but essentially told you things between them were over as he drove the two of you to the very same diner the two of you are sitting at now, ordering all of his favorites and scarfing them down while he asked you to tell him everything about the convention. It was the most dejected you'd ever seen him look, but you also knew Mingyu well.

There was a hint of relief behind the glaze of hurt.

That was a year ago. Now, the two of you are sitting on the impending doom of graduation. You're awaiting a call back from an internship you applied to last year, and Mingyu was awaiting a letter from a Masters' program. You were both single, your last situationship ending shortly after starting because the guy was convinced you and Mingyu had a thing – simply because he came over (uninvited, unannounced) on a night where Mingyu insisted you watch the entirety of Park Chanwook's Vengeance trilogy. You didn't care too much – not when the two of you were nervous wrecks, doing everything and anything to fill your racing minds and not think about your futures.

Much like sitting in this diner and sharing a meal, your foot resting on the side of his thigh as he sits on the opposite side of the booth.

"You're too far away." He pouts, before sliding his bowl across the table and standing up, slipping next to you in the cracked vinyl booth. You worm slightly closer to the window, pretending the sudden wave of his spicy cologne doesn't make your head spin. It settled so well with the powdery scent of his detergent, the softer smell that reminded you of laying on a blanket with him, stargazing out on the football field during spring midterms.

You can't hide the way your hands tremble slightly as you reach for your spoon, but Mingyu's hawk-like gaze misses nothing.

"You cold? You're shaking like a leaf." He eyes you with a raised brow, and doesn't allow you to respond before you feel him tug his hefty letterman jacket off. The black leather sleeves brush your sweater, and you find yourself being cocooned in the warmth that now filled the jacket, radiating off your best friend's body with ease. "You're a human furnace, Mingyu." You mutter to yourself, feeling him ruffle your hair as he moves his water closer to him, opting to rearrange all the side dishes as you carefully inched away from him. You could be caught staring and Mingyu wouldn't tease you about it, you knew that much – but to be caught tensing at the brushing of your thigh with his, your arm with his, your hand with his…would be much more embarrassing.

"So I've been told. Don't think you're gonna butter me up into forgetting about the fact that you hate me, Y/N." He gives you a pointed look as he stirs his soup, your jaw dropping slightly to gape up at him.

"Oh my God, Mingyu! I don't hate you, you're making this a bigger deal than it is!" You whine, but don't miss the way he smiles around his straw, his broad shoulders taking up way too much of your space as he shrugs.

"I mean, six pieces on me in one season, but you won't make your last piece about me? And it's to spotlight a player? You've been giving me the spotlight all season! You can't take it away from me, I'll get withdrawals." "Mingyu, there has gotta be something I can do to get you to get over this. I already offered to pay for dessert, and I'm letting you pick. What else do you want from me?" Your voice is exasperated, but you don't like the glint of mischief in Mingyu's eyes as he looks down at you. He traces your features, before a soft smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

"What are you doing Friday night?" "Mingyu." "You're not doing me, sweetheart. I need you to focus." You gape inwardly, scoffing out a laugh and running your hand through your hair as you tilt slightly to face him. He's already looking at you, his tongue running over his lower lip as you meet his eyes.

"I mean…unless you want to." "You are so fucking irritating." You scoff, shoving his shoulder as he giggles. Mingyu rarely made comments like that, but when he did, it was like he was the master of timing. He loved to catch you off guard, even going as far as pinching your cheek or sidling up to you really close to emphasize his point. He'd give you that cheeky smile, he'd look at you like you put the stars in the sky and sometimes, just sometimes, those eyes would dart down to your lips before flickering away and ending the bit.

All in good fun, you always thought.

Of course you'd thought about it, about him. About what being a lover to him would be like, about what he was like as a boyfriend. You saw it, the way he treated his girlfriends – with the utmost care, the biggest gentleman you'd ever met. He held doors open, he carried them over puddles, he retired his jackets and hoodies to their shoulders if the air even had a hint of a chill in it.

But, he cooked for you. He cleaned for you, he helped you with your projects and asked for your opinion on his. He held you close, no matter who was in his life – and it became a point of contention in his relationships. So much so that any girl that he began talking to had to meet you first – and he'd observe quietly. He'd watch you try to befriend them, how your animated personality often dwindled in their presence. He'd notice the way your smile would softly fade, often replaced with a furrow in your brows before you glanced at him, as if to say, next.

You approved of Sowon, because she was sweet. She was nice to you, and she was nice to Mingyu, until she wasn't.

You approved of his longest girlfriend, Soyoung, because she tried her hardest to get along with you and even invited you to her own social gatherings – regardless of if Mingyu would be in attendance or not. The two ended when Soyoung decided she wasn't built for sharing Mingyu's attention, and he let her go without so much as a second thought.

You approved of his first girlfriend, Sohee, because you were all idiots in high school and you didn't think it would matter that much to Mingyu – and you'd told him so.

You also did it because it was year two of you dealing with your newfound romantic feelings for Mingyu, and you figured if he had a girlfriend – he wouldn't notice the way you drifted from him. If it meant keeping your friendship and dissolving your romantic feelings for the puppy-eyed man, you would take the leap of being distant. However, return to the abovementioned point: Mingyu's hawk-like gaze misses nothing. He broke things off with Sohee after a year, noticeably missing your presence and seeking you out so much your mother asked you if you were dating. You remember the look of pity in her eyes when you'd answered in the negative.

"What, Miss Y/N, are you doing on Friday night?" You try to ignore the smile on his lips as he leans slightly closer, closing your eyes as you sigh. "Nothing, Mingyu. I'm not doing anything." "Now you are." "I'm broke, Gyu."

"Pretty girls never pay, hm?" He gives you a pointed look, and you sink slightly into his jacket, sliding a bit down the booth as your cheeks burn. He only laughs, his warm fingers pinching the fat of your cheek before you swat him away. "God, you'd think I've never complimented you. We've been friends our entire lives, what's your deal?" "Nothing! You're just a twerp who doesn't mean it." You stick your tongue out at him, before feeling the tips of his fingers graze your jaw. He tilts your head up to face him, a quizzical look in his eyes.

"What makes you say that? You think I say things just to make you feel better?" You raise a brow as his fingers squish your cheeks together, your lips puckering slightly as you reply, "I mean…don't you?" "No, Y/N. I don't. I think you're pretty, why would I lie about that?" He scoffs, before tilting his head in the direction of your stew. "Eat." The rest of the meal was spent in comfortable silence, your cheeks remaining hot under his soft gaze and gentle gestures. He drove the two of you to get dessert across town, his card hitting the reader before you could even fish out your wallet to spend your last twenty dollars as promised. He wiped your face of stray cookie crumbs as you ate in his car with the heat blasting, your own hand swatting him away constantly.

He walked you up to your apartment, biting back his laugh as your roommate, Hansol, nearly fell on his ass trying to pry open the living room window to air out the smell of weed. He smiled hazily at Mingyu, before Mingyu's best friend appeared out of your bathroom, stoned out of his mind.

"Sol, you said you wouldn't hotbox the living room again." You groan, setting your purse down on the foyer table. He winces, before pointing at Wonwoo.

"His idea." "Your apartment, idiot." Wonwoo rolls his bloodshot eyes, and Mingyu only grimaces as he quietly offers to let you spend the night at his place. You decline it almost immediately, not wanting a repeat of the first (and last) time you ever spent the night at Mingyu's apartment. Yours had flooded, and Hansol had found solace in his girlfriend's arms (and apartment) while you were left to fend for yourself.

Not really. Not if Mingyu had any say in it – and he did.

That night was like a scene out of a movie, the way he literally slammed into you fresh out of the shower. You remember the perfect way the moonlight lit him up through the cracked window, the drops of water on his abdomen burned into your brain. You also remember sleeping on the very edge of his bed that night, so much so that he eventually moved to the floor to let you get a good night's rest. You left the next day to invade Hansol and his girlfriend, Saerom, for the next two days while your apartment was fixed.

Neither of you spoke about it since, and you thanked your lucky stars that it was never brought up.

You let Wonwoo and Hansol bicker on your ratty couch, rolling your eyes as you held the door for Mingyu. He leaned against the doorway slightly, smiling down at you through perfectly bitten pink lips.

"I'll see you around, Gyu." You offer softly, rolling your eyes and tilting your head towards the two stoners now fighting over the remote to watch movies on your Amazon Prime account. "Friday." He corrects, and you suddenly realize how easily he stares at you like he knows something about you. You clear your throat, your cheeks growing even hotter as he tilts your chin up to look at him. "Say it. Say you'll see me on Friday. I'll pick you up from the office." "I'll see you on Friday." You murmur, earning a wink from him.

"See you, pretty." He spins on his heel, tucking his hands into the pockets of his letterman jacket as he barrels down the stairs of your apartment complex. You watch over the railing as he gets to his car, waving as he looks up. He waves back, opening his car door and almost instantly pulling out of the parking lot.

What you don't know is how he settles into the way your citrus perfume is now infused with his on the material of his jacket. His cheeks are warm at the idea of your flustered state in the diner earlier, and when you were sitting in his car eating your cookies. How your shy smile was only ever present around him, immediately disappearing if someone else joined your conversations or if you were around literally anyone else.

Like he made you nervous, something he'd noticed almost a decade ago. The way he could listen to you, talk to you, look at you all day – and you just brushed it off like it was nothing but you couldn't hide the twinge of fluster in your voice around him. The way you constantly talked about him if you thought he wasn't listening. How you wrote all your pieces about him, and how all his friends teased him about how in love you sounded. How enamored you sounded when you wrote about him, how passionate you were about sharing him and his success with the world to appreciate. He could date these pieces back to the first semester of your freshman year together, but he's liked you far longer than that.

Mingyu knew a lot of things, but he knew you best. You hadn't ever cared about someone the way you had him, and you made it very obvious. He crossed all his fingers, hoping the feeling in his chest when you brushed against him was something you felt, too. Hoping that you also settled in your bed and your only thoughts before closing your eyes were of him as his were of you.

Hoping that you liked him, in the same way. Hoping that you wondered what his lips would feel like against yours, what it would feel like to slot your fingers together in more than just a platonic way. He wondered if you'd let him kiss you breathless, he wondered if your eyes lingered on him that night because you liked what you saw.

Yeah, Mingyu likes you. He likes you a lot.

"NO CAN DO, Y/N. YOU ALREADY SAID YOU'D INTERVIEW LEE CHAN."

Hansol was sitting on the edge of his desk with a lollipop between his lips, looking over the rough drafts of your fellow journalists. How all of you at the Hawk Review ended up under Hansol Chwe was beyond you, but you weren't complaining. He was smart and calculated, creative, and he figured out a way to redirect some of the funding to better snacks and a Keurig for the Hawk Review Committee.

And you can't lie, either – he was a very just and fair editor. He didn't let just anyone onto the committee, often going through rigorous interviewing processes (for virtually no reason except vibes) and even going as far as making you his second in command – so long as you agreed that what happened at the HRC, stayed at the HRC. As your editor, he was more than willing to listen to you drone on and on about literally anything having to do with any of your columns or articles. As your roommate, Hansol did not want to talk about the committee at all – he preferred throwing popcorn at you while you bickered over who was dumber in How I Met Your Mother. You both agreed it was definitely Ted for the majority of the show.

"I'm gonna have to pull a veto on that, Chwe. I need to write about Mingyu." You sigh frustratedly, running a hand through your hair as you stuff your laptop into your tote. Hansol eyes you, before sliding the lollipop out of his mouth and pointing it at you.

"You are down atrociously for that guy, you know that? The dating rumors that I've had to deny for you are driving me towards the brink of insanity." You scoff in offense, your mouth attempting to form around words but only resulting in odd noises before you cover your face with your hands.

"Hansol!" "Y/N!" "I am not down anything for Mingyu, okay? I just know that if as a journalist, consistency is key, is it not? If I have put my best foot forward towards a project, in this case, interviewing Mingyu regularly for my columns…wouldn't it be just and fair, as a journalist with a semi-Mingyu-based following, to give him Spotlight of The Season? Wouldn't it be, oh wise one, something just and fair to have him be the topic of my last column as your second-in-command, Editor Chwe?"

Hansol only smiles, shaking his head before sighing. "You drive a hard bargain, Y/N." "So I've been told. Please, Sol. Mingyu will kill me if I don't do my last piece on him." You clasp your hands in front of you, jutting your lips out in a pout as you bat your lashes at him. He only snorts, tossing his unfinished lollipop into the trash can. He slides into the chair behind the heavy mahogany desk, a glint of mischief in his eyes that you can't quite place as he opens his laptop. He types away as you cross your arms across your chest, bearing your weight on one foot, tapping the other nervously.

"Well, let's see. You've written six columns on Mingyu this year alone, and one of them had nothing to do with football. Your column about his exhibit at the Museum of Arts last month was actually a great piece." He peers at you over the top of his laptop, and you tilt your head. "The Museum emailed our coordinator, you know. Said that your piece brought their ticket sales up by five percent." Your jaw drops slightly, "You're kidding." "I'm not." He shrugs, returning his line of vision to the laptop in front of him. You can see the way his cheeks move slightly, as if he's suppressing a smile, "You know, the coordinator who writes the recommendation letters for our internships. Mrs. Lee." "Hansol, if you're kidding, please shut up right now." Your voice is whiny as he smiles softly. You'd only ever seen him smile that way when he's going to deliver good news, as if to soften the blow, lessen the shock value. A smile that screams you deserve this, and everything good that comes your way.

"Mrs. Lee asked me what I thought of you, Y/N." He leaned back in his chair, pulling the drawer open and taking out yet another lollipop. He offers you one, and you take the green apple, unwrapping it as you lean on the desk. "She also asked me if I'd be willing to write your recommendation letter." Your eyes widen, "Hansol, please–" "Don't beg me. I hate it when you beg." He rolls his eyes, turning his laptop to face you. It's open to Y/N LETTER - DRAFT 2 OF 6. You can feel your nose burn as tears sting your eyes, and he closes the laptop before speaking.

"It will still go through Mrs. Lee for review, and for her to add her own notes. I think your dedication to the Hawk Review Committee has been absolutely insane. You've never failed to deliver, and everyone always loves your pieces, whether they're about Mingyu's abilities as a quarterback, Mingyu's talent for architecture and eye for what looks good. I think you're right, consistency as a journalist is key." He nods, giving you a knowing look.

"I'm sensing a but, here."

"But, I won't submit something that goes against what is true. I wrote in here that I think you're a brave individual who takes on any challenge life gives you. Submitting that when I know it's simply not true is a violation of ethics, giving false information and whatnot." He taps the metal of his laptop, and your brows furrow.

"What?" "I'm not submitting this until you tell Mingyu that you're in love with him. That gives you…" He checks his phone, "Three days. Three days to confess, so I can submit this to Mrs. Lee and she can get it in at your internship before the deadline closes and you're inevitably out of an opportunity at your own volition." Your jaw drops fully, "You're kidding." "I can assure you, Miss Y/N, I am not." He smiles lazily, shrugging his shoulders as he leans back. You scoff, but nothing tells you he's serious more than the way he opens his phone and sets a timer for seventy-two hours. "Three. Days. Hop to, bunny." "Hansol." "Oh, and I need your Spotlight of the Season column by then, too. Gotta skim through to make sure you don't say he's the love of your life in paragraph three again." "Oh, fuck you! That was one time!" You pout, "Don't do this to me, Vern. I literally helped you get that date with Saerom last year!" "And look at me now, Y/N!" He holds up his phone, a picture of him and Saerom filling the screen. "Just because you don't have balls, doesn't mean you can't have balls, you know?" "Wise words from Hansol Vernon Chwe." You hear Mingyu's voice fill the room, making you jump as Hansol smiles. He winks at you, before making a shooing motion with his hand.

"Get outta here, Y/N. And I want that damn column on the desk before Monday at six, you hear me?" He points the new lollipop at you, and you ignore the way your cheeks heat as Mingyu's arm drapes around your shoulders and he bids Hansol goodbye. You flip Hansol the bird as he makes kissing faces at you, Mingyu pulling you towards the door of the office.

"How was your day?" He asks as the door closes behind you, the chill of the November air piercing through your thin cardigan and making you regret the short skirt you chose earlier that day. You roll your eyes, opening your mouth to tell him to cut it out with the small talk – when his fingers pluck the lollipop out from between your lips and plant it straight onto his tongue.

"Mingyu! You're so gross!" You gape at him, swatting his side as he giggles around the hard candy, scooting away from you. His arm that was around your shoulder falls to his side, before you notice the way he shrugs his jacket off his shoulders, making you hold your hands out in protest. "No. Keep it, it's cold." "You're shivering." He says matter-of-factly, and you try to ignore the forming green tint on his lips from your lollipop, your eyes flickering up to his with a feigned look of confidence.

"I'm in the presence of a collegiate football superstar and future architect of the coolest buildings in our city, forgive me for being a little excited." You huff dramatically as you feel his warm jacket being draped over your shoulders. A defeated sigh escapes from your lips as his hands rest on your shoulders, guiding you out of the Literature building and towards his old pick-up.

You remember when he got it, the powder blue paint job with white detailing being a choice from his father before he passed it down to Mingyu. It was a 1992 GMC Sierra 1500, and he was definitely too big to fit in the cab but he loved that old thing more than anything in this world. He learned how to drive in it when he was sixteen, and his father finally gifted it to him on his eighteenth birthday – you remember being half-awake, toothbrush still in your mouth when you started getting shaken like maraca when he came to pick you up for school the next morning. Your mom did not trust Mingyu to drive you both to school, but with Mingyu's puppy eyes comes a certain brand of begging that no one can say no to.

Granted, he almost crashed from excitement but you both made it safe and sound.

"Where are you taking me?" You ask suddenly, remembering nothing had been discussed the night he brought it up. He shrugged, opening the passenger side door and helping you into the bench seat.

"Just relax, okay? It's, like, a twenty-minute drive."

You struggle not to roll your eyes, settling into the felt cushion and sliding your tote onto the dash. You pop open his glove box, his collection of cassettes messily thrown in. You pluck out a random one, hearing him pry open his door and settle in his seat, the rickety door definitely needing a good wipedown with WD-40.

"Only you would have a cassette collection." You hold up his November Rain cassingle by Guns N' Roses, and he snorts inwardly. It was a senseless dig, because cassettes were all his car radio could read. It was either the cassettes or the staticky sound of the FM radio…so, pass.

"You're judging me, but I went out and found that En Vogue Funky Divas cassette for you. Remember, bidding on eBay is not good for you, sweetheart." He reaches into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out the still-wrapped cassette tape you'd fought some fifty-year-old woman for on eBay weeks prior. Your eyes widen, a huge grin spreading on your lips as you pluck it from his fingers, holding it to your chest.

"Oh, you love me, Kim Mingyu!" You squeal, and he rolls his eyes, reaching over you to buckle you in. You allow it, carefully peeling back the plastic wrap. Listen, you're a twenty-something in the twenty-first century, it's not that serious. (It is that serious, what did you fight that woman for if it wasn't to just keep it as a collector's item?)

"Hooked on Your Love should be side B." He says softly, shoving his key into the ignition as you crack open the plastic case. You nod, your smile still wide as you slip the cassette into the player, his hand moving to rest on your headrest as he backs out of his parking spot.

You ignore the flutter in your stomach, before the sound of It Ain't Over 'Til The Fat Lady Sings fills the cab. You nod your head along to it, before glancing over at Mingyu and seeing a small bandage across his cheekbone. Your hand instinctively floats up to it, your fingers stroking his skin gently as he pulls up to a red light.

"What happened here, Gyu?" He looks at it in the rearview, his lip jutted in a pout. "Kiss it better and I'll tell." You snort, "Yeah, right." "I'm serious! I'm injured, oh, I'm so hurt." He feigns distress, clutching his chest just as the light turns green. You roll your eyes, forcing yourself to face forward. The sun is setting, the light hitting Mingyu's skin just right as you will your eyes away.

"Seriously, Gyu. Did you get hurt?" "Nah. It was Media Day, the stylist wanted something rugged. I didn't personally get it and she didn't explain how a singular bandage would convey that, but it's also not my expertise. I just let her do what she wanted." He shrugs, and you hum in response as he peels it off.

The silence between you, again, is comfortable.

But the growing knot in your stomach at his proximity, the smell of his cologne on his jacket surrounding you, the way the sun is making him look borderline fucking angelic – it's suffocating. You sigh inwardly, leaning your arm on the door and resting your head against your palm. You nod along to the music, your eyes scanning all the streets to see if you can figure out where Mingyu is taking you. He wasn't a secretive guy, but you couldn't ignore the roaring butterflies in your stomach at the idea that maybe he…had something planned.

Mingyu loved to plan things for the two of you to do. However, with your dedication to journalism, his practice and games and his studies – everything was far more sporadic and spontaneous. You didn't mind, you loved spending time with him in any way – but you were both sentimental people in the way that planning things you both knew you'd like was far more enjoyable.

You feel your cheeks burn at the realization that people weren't exactly wrong in assuming the two of you were a couple. You hated to admit it to yourself, because it was like giving into false hope and delusion. Sure, you were never going to think that you weren't enough for Mingyu – you were. At the end of the day, he is just a man. A man who picks his nose, probably.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" Mingyu's voice tears you from your thoughts, ones so clouding that you didn't even realize the car had stopped moving, the ending notes of Hooked On Your Love playing through the cab. You pouted, before looking up at him and seeing the old arcade you used to frequent during freshman year. Your eyes widen, noticing that you're parked under the same old tree you always parked beneath.

"Gyu, we haven't been here since freshman year." "I know. I figured we could just have a good time because I'm not sure if I'll have time after the semifinals. Everyone's super pessimistic about the championships this year." He shrugs, killing the engine. You only nod along, clearing your throat as you realize how empty the parking lot is. For a Friday evening, that's unusual.

"Kind of empty, isn't it?" You mumble as he unlocks the door, not missing his smile in the side mirror as he slides out of his seat. You move to open your door, but he's already yanking it open, offering his hand to help you step down. Tugging your tote over your shoulder, you climb down and reluctantly pull your hand out of his as you shut the door.

"Did you know that museums pay you for displaying your work in their galleries?" He starts, draping his arm over your shoulder and pulling you close. You suck in a breath, a little too loud for your taste as you cough.

"Really? That's great, Gyu. I assume they shelled out a few hundred bucks, huh? I know I would for Apartment of a Lonely Soul. I'd display the shit out of that at my place." You scoff, wrapping your arm loosely around his waist. He hums, his fingers twirling in loose strands of your hair as you glance up at him. He has a mischievous smile playing on his lips as you both near the doors of the arcade. It's empty inside, making you dig your heels into the pavement.

"Gyu, maybe it's closed." You frown, but he raps his knuckles against the glass door in a pattern that reminds you of Hot for Teacher by Van Halen. You wait quietly, seeing your good friend Soonyoung turning the corner of the cashier's booth inside. He grins widely at you through the glass door, unlocking it quickly.

"Mingyu. Y/N." He greets, and you can't help but narrow your eyes as Mingyu pushes you forward through the threshold. He takes your bag off your shoulder and hands it to Soonyoung, who drapes it over his own shoulder before holding his hand out.

"You two…what did you do?" Your suspicion only makes Mingyu laugh, and you see him slide something, presumably money, into Soonyoung's hand before he turns his attention back to you. Soonyoung flips the sign to say CLOSED, the click of the lock making your eyes flit up to him. He only smiles, pocketing the money and strolling away, whistling the melody of Galaxy by Taeyeon.

"What do you wanna do first? Skeeball? Air hockey? Bowling?" Mingyu's hands on your shoulders are reassuring, the pads of his thumbs working soft circles into your trap muscles. You nibble on your lip, turning your head to look over your shoulder back at him.

"Did you rent this place out with the money the museum gave you?" You ask softly, trying to hide the subtle hint of disappointment in your voice. You had a horrible habit of insisting that Mingyu not spend money on you, something he brushed off time and time again. He peers down at you, a quirk in his brow as he smiles.

"Just pick a game, sweetheart."

You try not to show your increasing suspicion, your gut feeling telling you he's buttering you up for something as he guides you towards the bowling alley. The music playing in the arcade is louder than normal, and you try to focus on the sound of By Your Side by Sade playing through the speakers.

"Have they always played Sade? Last time we were here, I swear they were playing, like, Cascada and Keri Hilson." You look up at Mingyu, who just rolls his eyes as he makes you sit down on a bench in front of the bowling alley, kneeling in front of you and yanking your shoes off.

"You always focus this much on things that are so minuscule? We're at an arcade, alone. No lines, no screaming, no odd Dorito-Eating, Mountain-Dew drinking, Piña-Colada-Vaping gamers fighting us for our spot in the Galaga queue." He makes it all sound so magical, like the two of you didn't get a bunch of sixteen year olds kicked out several times the last few times you visited the arcade.

"Gyu–" "Just chill, okay? And if I have to guilt trip you, I will. I'm not above it." He says pointedly, slipping the bowling shoes over your socked feet as you huff. You cross your arms as he ties the laces, before his warm hands splay across your knees. He smiles as your legs jerk at the sudden contact, before giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Now, beat me in two frames and I'll get us tickets to that furry convention that I know you're going to want to write a piece about." He stands, tugging you up from the bench and towards one of the alleys.

And it's easy. It's so easy to forget everything when you're with Mingyu, watching the way his shoulders tense under the tight black t-shirt he's wearing as he swings his ball back perfectly. The way his thick thighs are hugged by the slim fitting jeans he was wearing, the black watch on his wrist distracting you from the way his fingers slid easily into the bowling ball…

You don't manage to beat him in two frames, or three. Or four.

You don't win a single game, your brain entirely too distracted by just how couple-y this all seemed. How boyfriend-like Mingyu was acting, as he took you all over the arcade. He didn't ever go easy on you, beating you in game after game – air hockey, three games of Street Fighter II. He even managed to scam you out of the few coins you managed to get out of the coin pusher, before pulling you over to the Skee-ball machines.

"If you lose, you're buying dinner." He says pointedly, gathering the wooden balls in his hand as you gape up at him.

"This is so fucking unfair, Mingyu! You literally play football!" You stomp your foot like a petulant child, only making him laugh softly. "But if I offer to go easy on you, you'll complain. So which is it? Do you want me to have a filling dinner or do you want to win the weasel way?" He tilts his head at you, brow cocked high on his face as you scoff, shrugging his jacket off your shoulders and shoving it into his chest, grabbing the balls from his hands. He slides the jacket on with a grin, watching the way you count the balls with your eyes. 7..8..9…Before looking up, your lip jutted out in a pout. "No way you just called me a weasel, Kim Mingyu." "Yes way. What're you gonna do about it, weasel?" He flicks the tip of your nose, making your brows furrow as you push past him to stand in front of the lane. He leans on Mrs. Pac-Man, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets as he watches you carefully. Your shoulders are too tense as you land a ball in the 40 zone, your elbows too stiff as another gracefully slips off the edge of 30 into the 10 when you turn around.

"Stop staring at me, I can feel the heat of your eyes on my back."

"Wasn't looking at your back, sweetheart." He chides, making you scoff and turn back around, rotating your wrist as you assume position. He steps forward slightly, sliding his arm around your waist and tilting you forward a bit. He feels your back stiffen as you suck in a breath, almost like he scared you.

"Mingyu!" Almost.

"You're too tense. This is a game of grace, Y/N. Just relax." He murmurs, his other hand wrapping loosely around your wrist. You can feel his hips pressed against you, but it's fully innocent – aside from where your mind goes. He swings your arm back before pushing it forward and you let the ball slip from your fingers. You're grimacing as you watch it, feeling your lips twitch as it falls perfectly into the 100 zone.

"You just got lucky." You mutter, feeling his chest move against your back as he laughs. "Yeah? Just luck, huh?" Your breath hitches as his hits the back of your neck, and you curse yourself internally as he drums his fingers on the expanse of your belly. Swatting his hand away, you push him back but he doesn't move away. In fact, his arm around you tightens, pulling you slightly closer as you twist your head to look up at him.

"Then those hundred points should count in my favor, shouldn't they?" You gape up at him, his smile all too warm and inviting as he winks at you, his finger coming to your chin and manually closing your mouth. "Focus, sweetheart."

He turns your face back to the lane, and you huff out a breath. "This feels like that meme of a broke guy holding onto his girlfriend while she pays for his shit." "I hold you all the time, it's never bothered you before." He shrugs behind you, and you feel him settle his chin on your shoulder as his other arm wraps around you, linking his fingers above your navel. You can't help but roll your eyes, the action the only thing keeping you grounded as you reluctantly swing the rest of the balls in. 50, 40, 40, 30, 10.

"Last one." He whispers, his fingers lightly squeezing the softness of your belly between them. You squirm, elbowing his ribs lightly. "Get away from me! I'm going to lose if you keep doing this." You whine, and he only giggles as he slides his arms away from around you. Huffing, you smooth your shirt and shake yourself off, assuming your position in front of the lane and swinging your arm back in the perfect slope for a 100…

…When you feel Mingyu's fingers poke at your sides, making you squeal and the ball goes barreling into the 30 zone.

"Mingyu!" You push his arm lightly as he laughs, grabbing your wrist to stop you from landing a smack to his shoulder. He pulls you into him, and you feel your stomach flip as you slap his chest. "You've been hanging out with Jeonghan, haven't you? And you have the nerve to call me a weasel?!" "You would've lost anyway, sweetheart. You've got 350 points on the roster, there's no way you're not buying dinner." He taunts you, his nose mere centimeters from yours as he smiles. You're silent, the proximity far too much to even let out a breath when you feel your lips twitch into a scowl.

"You're not playing fair, Gyu." "You're cute, honey. Now watch this." He lets you slip from his grasp, slipping another quarter into the game and receiving his share of the wooden balls. And you, like an idiot – watch him. You watch him land 100 after 100, only once landing in the 50 zone. 850 points, 950 if you count the ones he got for you. He looks over his shoulder, eyes peering down at you with a glint you can't place as you cross your arms.

"I think I'd like to try that new place on Sixth Street." He says proudly, making you scoff in disbelief as he throws his arm over your shoulders. You shove him away lamely, only feeling his fingers pinch your cheek as he cooed. "Don't be such a sore sport, Y/N. Skeeball is not your forte." "Neither are any of these other games, apparently." You grumble as he leads you through the arcade, his thumb lightly rubbing back and forth on your jaw. He hums, pulling you into him impossibly closer.

"You wanna win something?" He asks gently, and you shake your head. You can almost hear him smiling, because you're not looking up at him, no fucking way – when he tilts your jaw up to face him. "C'mon. What do you want to play? Pac-Man?" "No." "Space Invaders?"

"No." "Oooh, Sunset Riders?"

"Mingyu." You rolled your eyes as he leaned against one of the air hockey tables, keeping you close. Your lip was jutted in a pout, making him laugh softly as he enveloped you in a hug. Your hands pushed against his torso in an attempt to push him away. He sucks his teeth, looking down at you. Your eyes look guilty, and you can feel it sinking into your stomach as he analyzes you. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but you know the words that come out aren't what he's thinking.

"Tell you what, we can take pictures in the photobooth and I'll buy dinner." You hate how you instantly light up, your hands now fisting the fabric of his shirt as he rolls his eyes, not bothering to hide his smile. "See? How aren't you a weasel when you make me feel bad and now I'm the one paying for dinner?" "You said it yourself, pretty girls never pay." You reply smugly, your lips stretching into a smile as he scoffs. However, it seems like the world stills as he smooths your hair down, thumbing at your earrings – a pair he got you ages ago for your birthday – and mumbling.

"I did say that, didn't I?" He nods, before seemingly snapping out of whatever trance he was in and pushing off the air hockey table. You stumble back a bit, but your grip on his shirt is enough to keep you upright as his arm tightens around your waist. "Easy, pretty. Need you in one piece for these photos." "And dinner!" You manage to stutter out, making him shake his head as he pulls you near the booth. The two of you see Soonyoung and his coworkers lounging around the cashier's booth, casually chattering while passing around a baby blue dab pen. Neither you nor Mingyu say anything, but neither does Soonyoung as he catches your eye – and he makes kissing faces at you.

Enough that you stick your tongue out at him, the feeling of Mingyu's fingers sliding between yours is the only thing that brings you back to reality. The photobooth had been much bigger the last time you came here – or maybe Mingyu had been much smaller? He takes up over ¾ of the bench inside, and you scoff. "Where am I supposed to sit?" Mingyu glances up at you, shrugging as he pats his thigh. "Hop to." "Yeah right, Gyu. Make yourself smaller." "I'd make the booth bigger if I could, Y/N. Just not possible." He speaks as if he really cares that the two of you have outgrown the photobooth meant for children, shrugging his shoulders before patting his leg again. "C'mon, pretty." You sigh, making the mistake of looking over your shoulder at Soonyoung. He just smiles, wiggling his brows as he takes a rip from the pen before handing it to Minghao. Mingyu holds his hand out, and you take it to steady yourself before pulling the curtain closed (much to Soonyoung's dismay.) You barely perch on his leg, smoothing your skirt slightly when he snakes his arm around you and pulls you down on his thigh fully, scooting you up higher.

"Act like you know me, will you?" He teases, before his hand comes to sweep the hair out of your eyes. "Ready? Need lip gloss?" You grimace, crossing your arms as he tucks a stray curl behind your ear. "Did you just call me crusty?"

"No, but I did find your lipgloss in my car. It's in my pocket, the MyMelody one?" He shrugs, pushing your hair back over your shoulder and looking into the camera. You hesitate, before holding your hand out. "Give it here." "Is that how you ask?" "Can I please have my lipgloss that I bought with my six dollars at Daiso? Pretty please, Kim Mingyu, football superstar and future architect of my home because I'm your best friend and you love me?" Your monotone voice makes him bite back his laughter, his hand sliding into his jean pocket with ease before pulling out your lip gloss. You eagerly snatch it out of his hand, screwing the top open and pressing the applicator to your lips in the camera.

If you looked just an inch to the left, you would've seen Mingyu admiring you.

"Ready now, Miss Diva?" He squeezes your hip lightly, and you smack your lips together before shoving the lipgloss in his jacket pocket and nodding.

"Yep! What pose? Smile first?" You press the camera button quickly, and he nods. You lean back a bit, your head pressed to his slightly as you both smile. The camera counts down from eight, and takes the picture as you feel your cheeks start to hurt. "Remember that photo your mom has of us? Where you're winking and I'm holding up a peace sign over your eye?" He reminisces fondly as the camera begins counting down, and you snort before nodding, humming an alright.

The two of you pose for the camera again, your chest warming at his kissy-face on the screen. The camera flashes, and you look back at him, only to see him already holding up half a heart sign with his hand. You meet it, smiling in the camera again – only to see him smiling up at you.

"Mingyu, look at the camera." You say through gritted teeth, and he does so almost reluctantly, resting his temple on your shoulder as he smiles softly. The camera flashes for the last time, and you hear the strips print on the outside. You uncross your legs, pulling the curtain open to see Minghao sweeping in front of the cashier's booth as Soonyoung crunches numbers over the calculator, a pencil in his hand quickly scribbling on his yellow legal pad. You duck out, grabbing the strips as Mingyu follows suit. You hold one up to him as you analyze yours, your heart slightly sinking at how much of a couple you guys look like. Tonguing your cheek, you run your thumb over Mingyu's face, before glancing up and seeing him looking down at you.

"Don't like them, huh?" He says defeatedly, and you shake your head quickly. "No, no! I love them." You say softly, before shrugging your shoulders a bit. "I guess it's just odd that we look so much like a couple. No wonder people think we're dating." He nods inwardly, tucking his strip into his back pocket before stuffing his hands into his jacket pocket. "Is that bad? To look like a couple, I mean?" "Considering that we've been best friends since I shoved you on the playground twenty something years ago? I'd say so." You state, and he snorts. You miss the way he tongues his cheek as he leads you over to Soonyoung and Minghao, who both smile slightly at you. "So? How was it, to have the entire arcade to yourself?" Minghao leans against the cashier's booth, his eyes slightly red from the dab pen. You roll your eyes with a smile as Soonyoung lifts your tote bag over the counter. "Glad you guys got paid to stand here. Kind of nice and calm when someone rents out the entire place, huh?" You wiggle your brows, tugging your tote over your shoulder and slipping your photo strip into it.

Soonyoung nods, "It's nice to watch two idiots play a bunch of games that are rigged and somehow still win. I still have no idea how you understand those coin pushers." "Elementary, my dear boy!" You smile widely, and Mingyu taps the counter with a small smile. "Thanks, guys. I owe you one." He says softly, and both of the men behind the counter return the smile. Minghao follows closely behind as you both say your goodbyes, unlocking the door to a bunch of teenagers who are impatiently waiting with skateboards in their hands.

"Sorry, guys. We're closed." Minghao says as Mingyu instinctively grabs your hand, pulling you in front of him. You both worm out of the door as one of the teenagers scoffs.

"So dude and his girlfriend here can go in but we can't? Come on, we've been waiting for two hours!" The kid sneers, the group behind him making noises of agreement as you laugh inwardly. Minghao rolls his eyes, sighing as he calls over his shoulder for Soonyoung.

"You guys have a good night, okay?" He waves you off as Soonyoung pops up behind him, the two of you walking towards Mingyu's truck in the moonlight. Your shoes crunch a few leaves as you hear the gaggle of teenagers slip into the arcade, Soonyoung flicking the sign over to say OPEN as you make it to the car. "Thanks for tonight, Gyu. Even if I was a sore loser, I missed spending time with you like this." You admit softly as you both round the passenger side of the truck, his hand reaching for the handle with a shrug. "No big deal. I love hanging out with you, it's like number two on my hierarchy of needs. Second only to the absolute need to beat you at every game ever." He jerks the door open, offering his hand for support as you climb in. He smiles at you, "Still up for dinner? I really do want to try that new place, they have a drive-thru and we can stargaze or something." "Yeah, I'm down. I'll pay my share with the two coins you didn't scam me out of earlier." You roll your eyes as he only grins wider, shutting the door and rounding the car. You open the glove compartment again, fishing out Sade's Love Deluxe cassette as he jumps into his seat. He cranks the ignition without another word, buckling his seatbelt in as you trade the cassettes out. The ride is once more filled with comfortable silence aside from Sade's comforting voice seeping through the speakers. You find yourself sitting slightly closer to Mingyu than you had on the ride to the arcade, but it seems neither of you really care as he swiftly maneuvers the streets, pulling into the drive-thru for the new burger place everyone in your town had been raving about.

"What do they have?" You ask softly, unbuckling your seatbelt and leaning over Mingyu's lap. The attendant blinks at you, the warm smile on her face only deepening as Mingyu's hand hovers over your waist. "We have a really good swiss and mushroom burger if you'd like to try it? It comes with caramelized onions and the bun has garlic butter brushed on top! It can get super messy but it's borderline orgasmic." She nods her head, and you glance up at Mingyu, who is biting back his laughter at her animated persona. You roll your eyes, your hand resting on his knee as you shake your head.

"You still got those mints in the glove box?" You ask, making him snort as he looks over at the attendant. "Can we get two of those? Are your fries any good? Be honest." His hand splays across your hip, his thumb rubbing circles into the fabric of your skirt as you continue leaning into him. The attendant assures him that yes, our fries are great! "Care to add a milkshake? We often get couples like you guys asking for one to share, it's adorable." She beams, and you open your mouth to speak before Mingyu talks over you.

"Do you want one?" His fingers squeeze your hip, and you can't find any words so you just nod dumbly, the attendant rattling off flavors when Mingyu speaks again. "Vanilla is fine, she's one of those people that dips her fries in it." "You guys are so cute!" You can't bring yourself to say anything, and you feel your cheeks heat as Mingyu clears his throat and mumbles a thank you before fishing his wallet out to pay the girl. She bids the two of you a good night before sending you down the drive-thru, and you can't move from your spot damn near on top of Mingyu.

"I'm sorry if she made you uncomfortable by saying that." He murmurs, and you shake your head slightly, squeezing his knee. "Nah, don't worry about it. It was kinda cute, she seemed really excited about it." You force a laugh, before feeling Mingyu pat your hip.

"It's okay, Y/N. You don't have to pretend like you're okay with it. We're friends, yeah? That's all we'll ever be." You don't know why your chest tightens at the words that fall from his lips, but you only hum in response as you slink away from him. His hand on your hip brushes across your back as you make it to the window, another attendant smiling brightly as she hands your food out. "You guys are so cute! Date night?" "Ah, we're not together." Mingyu replies quickly, and you nod as the girl gives you a glance. A hint of something, maybe pity, in her eyes. It makes your stomach turn as you take the bag of hot food from Mingyu.

"You should be." She hands Mingyu the milkshake for you, and you take it from him as you give her a sad smile in return. She bids you both a good night, and Mingyu repeats it as you steal a fry from the bag and wave. He drives back into the street as you sneak another, before he glances at you.

"Yah! If you're going to sneak fries, at least do it with your seatbelt on!" He swats at you, crumpling the bag shut as you reach for the seatbelt and tug it on. You reach for the bag again as you click it in place, offering him one as he makes a left turn. He takes it between his teeth, the music playing softly as he speaks again. "There's a cliff that oversees the city. It's lowkey haunted but I like it a lot. Wonwoo found it sophomore year when he and Hansol got too high, he called me telling me he felt like he was going to fall off the Earth." You laugh, nodding along. "I remember, because you practically banged my door down trying to get Hansol inside when you've always had a key." "I couldn't find it! And it was three in the morning after the semi-finals, I was so tired I'm not even sure how I drove around for so long looking for them." He shakes his head, taking another turn before the road becomes carved dirt and gravel. He does a u-turn, parking on the cliff so the bed of the truck is facing the overview of the city. You snag one last fry before Mingyu rolls his eyes, turning the truck off with a sigh, before glancing over at you.

"C'mon, let's go sit." The two of you climb out of his side of the car, his hands carefully grasping your hips to help you down. He grabs the milkshake for you as you plop the bag of food into the bed of the truck, before climbing into it by nestling your foot on the tire and swinging your leg over the wheel arch panel. You stretch as he does the same, when you hear the thwip of him shaking off the blanket the two of you kept back here for nights like this. You fluff one of the odd cushions thrown in from random thrift store stops, waiting as Mingyu spreads the blanket across the metal of the bed before throwing the cushion down.

"Sit." He says, popping his old cooler and fishing out a bottle of water. "In case you choke." "You wish I would, don't you? You'd get all my belongings." You roll your eyes, taking the lid off the milkshake and resting it on the wheel arch panel. The two of you dig through the bag in silence, and you unwrap the wax paper from the thickest, greasiest burger you'd ever seen. You inhale deeply, your head lightly hitting the rear window as you sink your teeth into it.

"Holy shit." You groan, your eyes fluttering shut as you chew around thick mushroom bits, the sweetness of the onions coating your tongue as you look over at Mingyu – who is just shaking his head with a grin as he unwraps his own.

"Good?" "Fucking amazing, Gyu."

He seemingly agrees, a noise similar to a moan erupting from his throat as he sinks his teeth into the burger. You smile to yourself, fishing a fry out of the bag as he crosses his ankles. Neither of you say anything as you eat, and you wind up moving the milkshake between the two of you when he gestures one of his fries towards it, the last bite of his burger stuffed into his cheek. "I have a question." He speaks and you grimace.

"Swallow that first."

He rolls his eyes, doing as you say before turning back to face you. You reach out to his face with a napkin in your hand, wiping at the corner of his lip before shoveling the last of your burger into your mouth. "Why not me?" He asks, resting his head on the rearview window, and you stop chewing almost abruptly. You cough around your food, forcing yourself to swallow and take a sip of the water bottle he gave you. "What?" "I mean, it would work, wouldn't it? We've been friends since we were kids. I've seen you in almost every stage of life. We hang out constantly, we're like chopsticks. I'm never seen without you, and vice versa. So, why not me?" He shrugs, and you gape slightly.

"Mingyu, I don't think you're thinking very straight right now. I mean, again, we've been friends our entire lives. Why would we risk ruining that?" You mumble, not looking at him as he sighs.

"Is it ruining it? Are you saying you've never thought about it? The comments don't get to you?"

You look up to see him already staring at you, a quizzical look on his features as he scans you. He seems…tired. Mingyu never looks tired.

"I…Mingyu, I don't know. I guess? I mean…it's weird, isn't it? You've literally held my hair when I've thrown up. You've seen me so drunk I've done cartwheels down the street barefoot." You run a hand through your hair, a humorless laugh slipping through his lips before he sighs.

"I've also seen you graduate high school with me. I've seen you grow up, every single birthday I've been right there. I've stuck by your side my entire life, and that's never been out of anything but love for you. Whether or not it remains platonic is up to you." He looks away, looking up at the moon before clicking his tongue. "I've been in love with you for six years now."

You swear the entire world stops spinning at that moment. No cicadas chirping, no birds flying, hell, even you've stopped breathing. He keeps talking.

"It sounds like bullshit, especially when I've dated other girls. I guess a part of me thought that if I diverted from the feelings, if I ignored them and tried to redirect them, they'd go away. It was definitely a stupid thing to do, because I've hurt people along the way. I should've been honest from the beginning, maybe your direct rejection would've made getting over you easier and things would be different now." He shrugs, and you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. He glances at you, "You should take that." You pull it out, seeing Hansol's contact flashing across the screen. Groaning, you answer it and put it on speaker.

"What, Sol?" "Damn, my bad. I heard from a little bird that you went on a date with Mingyu."

Your eyes widen, and Mingyu runs his tongue over his teeth as he shakes his head. He scoffs, and you open your mouth to speak when your roommate pipes up again.

"Have you told him you're in love with him yet?" His head snaps up, and you groan, squeezing your eyes shut when Hansol speaks again. "Hello? Did you tell him yet or not, Y/N?"

"You just did, Sol. Fuck, I'll see you later." You don't wait for him to respond before you hang up, carelessly tossing the phone across the bed of the truck as you rub your face with your hands. You bring your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and leaning your head back against the window. He hums. "How long?"

You sigh, nibbling on your lip as you peer at him through your lashes. He doesn't smile, doesn't offer you any comfort in his face as you rake your eyes over his features. Strong brows, soft eyes that have never held anything but support and love for you. Pink lips that spread over that perfect set of teeth every time he saw you, pink lips that mocked you and taunted you.

"Unless it's not true." He shrugs, tossing the trash from dinner into the bag it came in. You don't say anything as he moves it from between the two of you, opting to turn to face you. He crossed his legs, resting his hands in his lap. "I think a part of me always knew." You mumble, and he nods. His eyes are patient, thumbs twiddling in his lap as you sigh. "Yeah. I always knew, I just didn't want to come to terms with it. That's why Daewon and I broke up, you know." "Fuck that guy, he sucked anyway. And he's a ball hog, he can't fucking pass to save his life." Mingyu scoffs, making you smile inwardly. "Yeah, he does suck. But he was there, and he was a good distraction. We're both guilty in that sense, you and I. Something about hurting people along the way." You pull at a loose thread in the blanket, and Mingyu hums.

"We don't have to do anything about it if you don't want to." You peer at him through your lashes, tapping your foot lightly. "You don't?" He sighs, shrugging his jacket off to stretch his arms over his head. You follow the movement, your eyes glued to the muscle of his arms being pulled taut under his t-shirt. He leans his head back on the rear window, and you will yourself to scoot closer. He glances down at you, eyes full of defeat.

"Why didn't you tell me?" "Why didn't you?" "Touché." He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a mint. He holds it out to you, and you take it gently as he takes another out for himself. He doesn't say anything as he unwraps it, but you attempt to make a joke anyway.

"Telling me my breath stinks, aren't you?" He snorts as you pop the mint into your mouth, and lean your head on his shoulder.

"So does mine, so I guess we're even. Plus, you asked if I still had mints." You chuckle as he reaches for your water bottle, taking a sip before he sighs again.

"So, what now? We just live with it?"

You put your chin on his shoulder silently, looking at him as he turns to face you. You don't miss how his eyes flicker to your lips, before he speaks again. "What if it doesn't work? What if–" "I don't plan for the negative parts of life." You interrupt, switching the mint from side to side. "And I don't know why you're even allowing it to seep in, that's not like you." He scoffs as his cheeks turn pink, your hand reaching for his jacket. You pull it off his lap, wrapping it around your shoulders as you swing your leg over his thighs. His hands dart to your waist to steady you, and you sit comfortably on his lap. Resting your head on his chest, you hum.

"Why tonight?" His hands wrap around you, pulling you slightly higher on his lap as he sighs. You look up at him, the blush on his cheeks only deepening as he looks away. "You have to promise me you won't laugh."

You snort, making him huff as you let the jacket slide down your shoulders, bunching around your hips. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you coo at the pout on his lips before nodding. "I promise."

"I was jealous." He mutters, and your fingers card through the hair at the nape of his neck. "I was jealous and it was impulsive but I don't regret it. I would blow any amount of money if it meant I get to spend time with you like this. I'd sell my soul if I had to." "Jealous? Of what?" He huffs, not meeting your eyes until you slide your hand onto his jaw, your thumb stroking his cheek gently. "C'mon, Kim. Tell me." "Don't call me that." He grumbles, and you can't bite back your smile as his eyes continue to avoid yours.

"What do I call you? Mingyu? Gyu? Baby?" You're taunting him, your hands holding his face in place as you brush your nose to his. "Mine?" His eyes flicker up to yours, the pout deeper still. "Yeah. That one." "Mine?" "Yours." "Maybe. Spill your beans, first." You pinch his cheek, making him roll his eyes.

"You said you were going to write the Spotlight of the Season for Chan." He murmurs into his chest, and you bite back the beginning of a laugh that starts to bubble up when he pouts. "I want you to spend time with me. You have to interview for hours for those pieces and that means he can make you laugh and smile and have your attention. I don't like it." The laughter you once felt in your belly dissipates, Mingyu's arms tight around your waist as you cup his face in your hands. He looks up at you, eyes wide and slightly watery as you swipe your thumbs under them.

"Mingyu, I spend all of my free time with you." "It's not enough. I need to live in your skin." "That's terrifying?" You snorted, letting out a short laugh as Mingyu buried his face in your neck.

"You said you wouldn't laugh." He whines, his lips brushing against your skin. You try not to jolt in his lap, his arms only tightening around your waist. "Stop laughing!" "I'm not, I'm not laughing! I promise." You pat his shoulder, before pulling his head back by his hair. "That's actually really cute. A little scary, the bit about living in my skin, but I understand."

His eyes scan your face, trying to find a hit of deceit. You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his. "Breath check." "Y/N–" "Nope, we've been doing this since we were teenagers. Does my breath stink?" He rolls his eyes, "No, Y/N. It doesn't."

You nod, before brushing your lips against his. His eyes widen, and he's pulling your hips flush to his as you smile. "No, no, no. Please kiss me, please." "So cute." You mumble, pressing your lips to his. He whimpers softly, the grip on your hips bruising as he kisses you back, his lips perfect and soft and addicting against yours. Your fingers tangle in his hair as you nip at his lower lip, a low groan from his chest as you slip your tongue into his mouth. You melded together perfectly, his every breath matched yours, the taste of the mint coating your tongue mixed with something just so Mingyu.

His warmth, his attention to detail. The way he teases you so lovingly, the way his hands make you feel like you're on fire even with the most innocent of touches. His soft sounds pouring into your mouth like honey, the way you can feel how hard he's trying to hold himself back from melting into you until he's had his fill.

And you hope he never does get his fill.

"Wait, wait."

Mingyu fights himself to pull away from your lips, and you can feel his heart thundering in his chest as he pushes you away. He looks a bit dazed, his thumb reaching to wipe the corner of your mouth from leftover lipgloss. You feel a bit of worry settle in your stomach, your hands moving to rest on his stomach as you nibble on your lip.

"Sorry, was that too much? I'm–" "No, no. You're…you're perfect. I'm just…" He trips over his words, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against your chest. "I don't want to ruin this before it's even started." You actually laugh this time, running your fingers through his hair and pulling him away from you. "Bro, you could never ruin this. I'll always want you, Gyu." "First of all, don't call me bro ever again. I will cry." He furrows his brows, pushing your shoulder lightly. You stick your tongue out at him, before pressing a kiss to his forehead. He pouts, bringing your face closer to his before kissing your lips gently, feeling you smile into it as you nip at his lip.

"Second of all?" You murmur, and he blinks, pushing you back slightly.

Mingyu huffs, his fingers dancing across your bare thighs before he yanks your skirt down slightly. "It's late. Hansol is probably wondering where you are." "He's not my father, you know." "He's your roommate, it's courtesy."

"So…you're not going to take me back to your apartment tonight?" Your voice is soft, and Mingyu's eyes widen as you tug at the collar of his shirt. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out as your fingers move to tug the hem of his shirt out from under his jeans. His cheeks flush in the moonlight as he allows you to untuck his shirt, your fingers slipping under the soft fabric and tugging at his belt.

"Y/N." "Just wanna see. Wanna feel you."

He rolls his eyes, his cheeks beet red as he lets you slip your hands up his shirt. You don't miss the way he shudders lightly as your fingers ghost over his skin. Pushing the fabric up, your eyes take in the expanse of his softly chiseled stomach, the dip between his pecs. You lean forward slightly, pressing your lips to the warm skin above his heart, earning a soft groan from Mingyu's throat.

"You're quite the temptress, you know." He murmurs, his hand moving to swipe your hair out of your face. You lean into his touch as he holds your face softly, his thumb toying with your bottom lip. You kiss it chastely, before he leans forward, capturing your lips with his.

His arm wraps around your waist as his hand tangles in your hair, holding you in place as he kisses you how he likes – slow, passionate, sloppy as he pushes your chest against his. Your arms wrap around his shoulders again, absently rolling your hips against his. Mingyu whines right into your mouth, only fueling the fire in the pit of your belly.

"Y/N." He sighs against your lips, but it comes out more breathy than it usually would. You don't respond, kissing him as his fingers push the hem of your skirt up further and further up your thighs. You can feel your underwear start sticking to you uncomfortably as his hands circle your thighs, pushing you harder against his growing bulge before he suddenly pulls back from your lips. "We're in public. We could get caught." "Star football player caught fornicating with his girlfriend on Lovers' Peak. More at eleven." Mingyu scoffs, pinching your thigh playfully. "Girlfriend, huh?" "I don't kiss my friends, Mingyu." You say pointedly, before gesturing at his hands high on your thighs. "I also don't let my friends take my clothes off." He sighs, "You could at least let me ask you. You're half naked on my lap and we're not even in the privacy of my bedroom." "Then take me home, Mingyu." You roll your eyes, tugging on his shirt. "Take me home and we can figure this all out there." He eyes you, making your own give him an expectant look.

"Will you spend the night?" "Yes." "Will I have to kick Wonwoo out?" "Yes."

You huff, tapping the watch on your wrist. You move to get up, but his hands on your thighs move to hold your hips, pulling you closer to him. Your hands grab his shoulders for balance, and he looks up at you with a shy smile on his lips. "Will you be my girlfriend? Please?" You grin, "Star Football player becomes an Omega on Lo-" "Nevermind." "No! Wait, please. I'll be your girlfriend, I will."

You kiss Mingyu before he can refute it, feeling his pout against your lips.

"Kiss me back, you twerp." "You called me an omega." "Would it be better if I said you're my omega?" You wiggle your eyebrows, and he scoffs, lightly smacking the outside of your thigh. From the blush on his cheeks, you can tell all is forgiven – but it doesn't stop you from kissing his cheek softly. "Take me home, baby."

"Y/N, I SAID I WAS SORRY. CAN'T YOU TELL HOW SORRY I AM?"

"You outed me to the love of my life." You mutter as you stuff your laptop back into your tote.

The weekend had passed, and you and Mingyu didn't have to worry about kicking Wonwoo out of the apartment – he'd actually gone on a date that night and spent the weekend at her apartment. Hansol obviously didn't question when you got home the next afternoon, but had been surprised at the deep frown on your face and how you avoided him through Monday afternoon.

"You're telling me Mingyu didn't feel the same?" Hansol's jaw dropped as you tongued your cheek, even bringing forth some tears. "No, Hansol." You grumbled, shoving your Spotlight of the Season paperwork into his hands. Hansol has a guilty look in his eyes as he groans.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Hansol is pouting as you finish packing up your bag, trying your hardest to bite back your laughter. You glance over your shoulder to see him unwrapping a lollipop and shoving it in his mouth before opening his laptop. Smirking to yourself, you make your best attempt as a discontented sigh, shoving your bag over your shoulder.

“You’ll get my rec letter in, right?” “Yes.” “And you’ll proofread my column by tonight?”

“That means taking this home, you know how I feel about that.” He mutters, tapping his fingers on the blank cover page of your paperwork. You give him a pointed look as you cross your arms over your chest.

“You take it home and do it, or I’m telling the landlord that it’s not actually our neighbor smoking all that weed.” You scoff, and he sighs.

“Bunny, I said I was sorry! How was I supposed to know he’d react that way? I mean, the guy is practically all over you anyway!” Hansol huffs, and you’re opening your mouth to speak when you hear someone clear their throat in the doorway of the office.

Hansol winces, and you glance over your shoulder to see Mingyu leaning against the doorframe. He’s wearing a tight, white shirt and your favorite black jeans on him, with a watch you gave him a few years ago as a high school graduation gift. His letterman is flung over his shoulder and he’s spinning a football in his other hand.

He raises his brow at the silent scene, watching as you skirt around the desk and yank open the drawer, stealing two lollipops. Hansol doesn’t even argue, just sighs as he cowers behind his laptop.

“Should I be concerned?” Mingyu asks you as you near him, and you shake your head as you hold a lollipop out to him. Hansol is peering over the top of his laptop as a confused Mingyu presses a kiss to your hairline — but it’s not enough to make him suspicious about the weekend itinerary.

“I want my column reviewed by the time I get home, Hansol.” “Y/N, this is agony. At this rate, you’ll be home before I am!” “Now you know how I felt! Get to it!”

Mingyu snorts, shaking his head as you skirt out of the office. He bids a gentle goodbye to the younger man, who only sighs in response.

“You’re awful to that kid, you know.”

You smile as you wrap your hand around his bicep, unwrapping your lollipop as you shrug. “He taunted me with my recommendation letter! He said if I didn't confess to you in seventy-two hours, he wasn’t going to send my letter and I’d miss my opportunity at a great internship, Gyu.”

“So you should be thanking him, because technically you haven’t confessed shit.”

“I’m your girlfriend, I think that's enough of a confession.”

“Mmh.” He nods, biting back his smile as he slides his hand into yours, squeezing softly. “What do you wanna do? Practice was canceled, I have no upcoming projects. Wonwoo’s asleep on the couch at home, though, so my place is off the table.”

You glance up at him, huffing out a laugh as you shake your head.

“What makes you think I’m free?”

“It’s a Monday afternoon. You usually con me into buying you dinner, we eat in your bedroom. We watch movies before you kick me out because you say I snore.”

“Actually it’s because you sleep shirtless, and I was a wimp back then.”

Mingyu laughs heartily, letting go of your hand to ruffle your hair. You swat at his hand, scoffing as he wraps it around your shoulders and pulls you closer to him. You rest your head on the side of his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist as you look up at him.

“My place is free.”

“Mmh, maybe you can read me the Spotlight of The Season column you wrote about that guy.”

“Oh, that guy? You mean Kim Mingyu? God, that guy is so cool. Did you know he has omega eyes?” You feign excitement as you taunt him, making him roll his eyes and pinch your cheek.

“Tell me you didn’t put that in the column.”

“Are you crazy? Why would I expose my hot, sexy, cool boyfriend for being a down-bad simp? That’s just not fair to me, they already want you.”

“Yeah, well.” He sighs, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as the parking lot comes into view, his old truck shining in the setting sun. “I only want you.”

You don’t respond, feeling your cheeks warm as you make your way to the parking lot. He opens your door as he usually does, but lingers as you climb up and put on your seatbelt. He gingerly takes the lollipop from your lips, making you roll your eyes as he silently asks for a kiss. You give in, you’re sure you always will give in to those puppy eyes and pouty lips — when he pulls away and steals your lollipop.

“Easy.” He smiles as he shuts your door, leaving you to sulk into your seat as he rounds the car. He hops into the driver’s seat, your green apple lollipop lodged between his lips as he cranks the ignition.

“Read the column, I want to know what you chose to put in.” He speaks again as he pulls out of his spot, and you snicker to yourself as you pull your phone out.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

You begin to read it calmly, ignoring the incessant buzzing of Hansol’s flooding messages.

NEW! Msg From: Sol ☀️👽 [4:32PM] dude [4:32PM] ur such a liar [4:33PM] i would say i hate u but im happy for u bro [4:34PM] i’m omw home tho

Msg To: Sol ☀️👽 [4:35PM] find somewhere else to go 🫶🏼

NEW! Msg From: Sol ☀️👽 [4:36PM] bro

SPOTLIGHT OF THE SEASON — NO. 97, KIM MINGYU. BY Y/N Y/L/N. FRIDAY, OCTOBER 10. 8-MINUTE READ | UPDATED: 5:39PM.

Author’s Note: Typically, I reserve the interview questions and responses for myself. However, I’ve decided to share this snippet in order to settle some rumors and ruffle a few feathers. I have also made this column a bit more personal, with the permission of my editor.

No. 97 on the field but No.1 in my heart — I love you, Kim Mingyu.

——————————————————————————————————

— INTERVIEW #53 —

Y: This is Y/N, starting Interview No.53 for Kim Mingyu, Spotlight column. Testing, one, two. KMG: Letting you know right now, I have to pee.

— INTERIM BREAK —

— INTERVIEW #54 —

Y: This is Y/N, starting Interview No.54 for Kim Mingyu, Spotlight column. Testing, one, two. KMG: [laughter] Y: Hello, Kim Mingyu. Welcome back to the Hawk Review Committee. KMG: Has the interview part always been this awkward? Y: Suddenly I’m your girlfriend and you forget how to talk to me? KMG: Babe, don’t put that in. We have to hard-launch before it gets published on Friday. Y: Honey. I love you. KMG: Okay, just a little snippet. Y: [laughter] Okay. Can I at least make those cheesy puns football girlfriends make? KMG: [laughter] Your world, baby. I’m just living in it. I love you.

KIM MINGYU has long been the subject of my articles. Long-winded columns full of my affections, hidden behind words far too long to be understood by the average mind. A lot of readers would call it hyperbole, would call it ‘purple prose’, but I consider my pieces about Mingyu to be the most authentic works I’ve ever written. There is something about enjoying the information I am spreading — to talk about somebody I care about, to air his successes and see other people enjoy who he is. To walk around campus and understand that though Mingyu may be my best friend, he is also a friend to others. He is a helping hand, he is smart and thoughtful.

In his college career, Kim Mingyu has made incredible Hawk history. He is the only quarterback to not be injured during a single game, and he and the Seoul Hawks are taking home the championship trophy come Saturday night. Be sure to buy your tickets from Jimin and Jungkook!

Kim Mingyu has been an inspiration to many, including myself. Take Apartment of A Lonely Soul: being displayed at the Museum of Arts, his piece has contributed to ending the stigma of allowing self-doubt to wallow in the mind and finding comfort in being alone and making decisions that may not seem feasible. I remember when I nervously asked him if he had submitted it to be displayed in the gallery — without a second thought, he replied: Why wouldn't I?

Kim Mingyu's unshakeable confidence has always brought comfort to others. He has time and time again shown that he is reliable, a pillar in our community. He has shown up for me countless of times — whether it is to soothe my damaged ego or celebrate my milestones, he is always there for those he cares about.

His mistakes are also something he takes in stride. He can admit when he is wrong and when he needs help — he’s come to my apartment for study nights that have left his head spinning. He called me when his car battery died on him last spring, and I walked six miles with our friends and jumper cables to wave down some random on the road. I remember how he made our friends sit in the bed of the truck, but sat me right next to him in the cab.

In tune with confidence, he wears his intelligence and care with pride. A true team player, a student that sets the standard and wonderful friend: there will never be another Kim Mingyu.

4K notes · View notes

pathologicalreid · 1 year ago

Text

gemini | S.R.

two emotionally wrought people collide at a wedding, and a sexual escapade ensues.

part two

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: softdom!spencer, use of the term "good girl" (i couldn't help myself), unprotected sex, reader on bc, alcohol, spoilers for 14x15 truth or dare, lowkey idiots in love, fucking against a wall?, fingering, heavy petting, r has an oral fixation, r is wearing a dress and makeup, explicit consent (hot), public sex, i think that's all word count: 3.42k a/n: this is a little self-indulgent and i don't care! based on literally just the first line of the song gemini by del water gap. probably not ever gonna get a part two. i've never done angsty smut (smangst?) before, so this was fun.

so, here's the setting, we met fucked up at a wedding

Swirling the drink you held in your hand, you watched your friends as they chatted. The pink liquid in the cup, concocted by Penelope Garcia, was far too sweet for your taste, but you needed the liquid courage to make it through the wedding.

It wasn’t that you weren’t happy for Krystall and Dave. It was that weddings oftentimes left a bitter taste in your mouth – one so bitter that not even Penelope’s drink could offset it.

In your periphery, you saw a blur of purple in the corner, looking up to see Spencer. His hand still bandaged from his most recent brush with death, he used his free one to grip a glass of water. Raising your eyebrows, you gave him your best attempt at a smile before you greeted him, “You look good, Dr. Reid.”

He was fully donned in his favorite color, and you tried to pretend that you didn’t notice that your dress matched the purple hue of his suit. “Thanks,” he said shortly, not quite meeting your eyes.

Noting the way he was looking past you, you demurely leaned your head down, glancing over your shoulder so that you could see what he was looking at, only to see JJ. She looked gorgeous in her red dress, laughing at something her husband said before her eyes caught something.

She was staring back at Spencer, and not for the first time, you found yourself wondering what happened in that pawn shop. Bringing your eyes back up to Reid, you watched the confused look in his eyes bloom as he peeled his eyes away from JJ.

Sick of it, you spoke up, “Alright, I had dibs on being the mopey one tonight. What’s wrong?” You had wanted to brush it off as long-lasting nerves from the hostage situation, but he was acting strange.

You knew you weren’t his best friend, that was a title that JJ had been the reigning champion of since the beginning of time. Yet, you still noticed the rigidity in Spencer’s shoulders as he displayed a clear discomfort with his surroundings. You tried to think of something to say to him. How could you ask him if he wanted to get out of here without it sounding like a sexual proposition?

“JJ told me she loved me,” he said, his voice so low you weren’t even sure you had heard him correctly.

Your head snapped up, “Oh.” Swallowing thickly, you tilted your head curiously, letting loose hair tumble to the side. “Do you love her?” Likely not the right conversation for the wedding of everyone’s favorite right-person-wrong-time couple, but you were desperate for a rope to pull yourself out of your wallowing.

He took a sip of his water before setting the empty glass on the bar counter, “I did.” The admission hit you like a ton of bricks, until her continued, “but now…”

Filling in the blanks, you shrugged, “She’s married. They have kids.” Spencer was always doing the right thing, so pushing his feelings aside for the sake of JJ’s family made the most sense.

Furrowing his brows, he pondered this for a moment before speaking, “It’s not just that. I have feelings for someone else.”

“Oh,” you repeated, and somehow the thought of him being in love with an unfamiliar figure hurt more than him being in love with your mutual friend.

The both of you let the conversation lag, watching as Penelope came back up to the bar and poured more drinks. After she accused you of being boring for not wanting another drink, everyone returned to the tables. “Have you dated anyone since him?”

You choked on your newly acquired water, cupping your hand underneath your jaw in an attempt to stop water from getting on your dress. “Uh, no. I’ve kind of sworn off dating ever since,” you replied, shaking your hand out and letting water droplets fall to the floor.

Sighing, you slouched in your seat, remembering that all you’d ever be was a jaded bride. Left by your fiancé on the day of your wedding, doomed to never love again. Until you met Spencer Reid.

“For everyone?” Spencer asked, and you cursed his natural curiosity.

His question caught you off guard. Despite yourself, you shook your head, “I have like… one person who, if they asked me, I’d say yes.” Your skin started to feel warm, and you weren’t sure if it was your proximity to him or Penelope’s drink coming back with a vengeance.

Spencer stepped a little closer to you, leaning casually on the counter as if he wasn’t affecting your ability to focus. “Who’s your person?” The question was innocent enough that it made your heart ache.

“It doesn’t matter, he’s into someone else,” you told him, reaching behind your neck to pull your hair up, haphazardly twisting it. You didn’t have a hair tie, so you let the locks fall once you felt some semblance of relief.

This statement seemingly bothered Spencer because he looked into his glass, “Did he tell you that?”

Nodding, you chewed on the inside of your lip. “Yeah,” maybe not in so many words, Spencer was rarely crass enough to say he was into someone, but you understood well enough.

The conversation lagged between the two of you once again, your own private thoughts were only interrupted when the music changed. It was a slow song, one for the couples of the night to dance to.

You took a chance, “Do you want to go explore the building with me? It’s getting stuffy in here,” you said, taking one final swig of your water before jumping up from your stool.

He looked back at JJ, who was there with Will, and then forward to the girl who was asking to take him away, “Yes.”

David Rossi had spared no expense for his second wedding to his third wife, and the manor that you found yourself meandering within felt never-ending. Something about following Spencer as he led the way and told you facts about the history of the building felt so normal, and you wondered if it would hurt when the night was over. Maybe this would just end as another memory to loathe about weddings.

Trailing him into another room, you stumbled into his back. Quickly, Spencer spun back and caught you before you could fall to the ground.

Steadying yourself, your heart thrummed at the way he was touching you, tightly holding your waist so that you wouldn’t trip. Once you were no longer wobbling, Spencer reached up and gingerly lifted the fallen spaghetti strap of your dress back over your shoulder. Before you had fully thought out your actions, you leaned up on your tip toes and kissed him.

It was hesitant and gentle, but once you registered that you were kissing him you soon realized that he was kissing you back. What started out as a small peck on the lips quickly morphed into full, open-mouthed kisses.

You thought Spencer might eat you alive, and for a moment, you thought you might let him.

Without separating your lips, he herded you over to the wall, pinning your hips to the wall as you felt heat grow between your legs.

Pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth, Spencer pulled away ever so slightly, your faces just inches apart. “Is this okay?” He asked you, his eyes flickering down to your lips like he was holding himself back from kissing you again.

There was fear. A fear that if you moved forward tonight, nothing would ever be the same, but you took a chance and nodded quickly, “Yes.”

Your answer acted as a release as Spencer dropped his head back down and the two of you reattached your lips. Despite your attempts to ignore it, you felt his hardened length pressing into you through several layers of clothes.

Twisting your head away, you gasped as Spencer took the opportunity to place his lips on your neck, gently suckling on the tender skin as you tried to catch your breath. “Are you sure about this?” You breathed, running your hands underneath his suit jacket, wanting nothing more than to push it off of him.

“Yes,” he answered, giving you the same consent that you had already given him, and it was enough for you to reach for his belt buckle. No matter how badly you wanted to see him entirely bare in front of you, this just wasn’t the place for it.

Gently, you slid your hand down his front, savoring the way his breath hitched against your neck as your fingertips precariously lifted the waistband of his boxers. He gently nipped at your earlobe as you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock.

You let your head fall backward, allowing him better access to your neck as you moved your hand. Moving your hand up so that you could swipe your thumb over the tip.

You dragged your other hand down, pulling his boxers down so that you could get a good look at what you were working with, and biting your lip at the sight of it. Slowly, you started to pump his impressive length, noting how his breathing patterns changed with your movements.

Dragging a knuckle up the underside of him, he dropped his head to your shoulder as you collected his pre-cum on your index finger on your way up, bringing your hand up to your mouth and licking the droplet off, peering up at him.

“You’re so good at that, baby,” he told you, sighing as he reached up and placed his hand on the side of your neck, skimming his thumb over your jawline as his free hand started to make its way up your dress, pausing when he only met bare skin. “No underwear?” He questioned, furrowing his brow at you as you bit your lip, trying to refrain from pressing into his hand.

Whimpering almost indiscriminately, you shook your head, “Couldn’t, panty lines would show under the dress.”

Spencer hummed in recognition, moving his hand up to cup your sex so that you could feel your own wetness on his hand. A pathetic whine escaped your throat as your walls clenched with need, still stopping yourself from grinding on his hand. “What do you need?” He asked, a teasing lilt in his voice, “Come on, you can tell me.”

“You, please,” you answered, your voice dangerously bordering on pleading. “Your hands, anything,” you squeaked out, breathing heavily as you awaited his next move.

Gently, he slipped a finger inside your wet hole, causing you to release a satisfied sigh. “You’re so wet,” he whispered in your ear as you tilted your head back and pressed your lips to his.

As his hand picked up in pace, so did your breathing. With each movement of his hand, you struggled to keep your volume at a respectable level, small whimpers continued escaping you even as you bit down on the inside of your lip. “Spence,” you whined, moaning aloud as he slipped a second finger into you, “Oh, god.”

The silence of the room around you only exacerbated the wet sounds that were emanating from your sex, and if it didn’t feel so good, you might’ve been embarrassed. In fact, as you felt a familiar coil winding in your abdomen, you found that you didn’t have the capacity to feel anything other than pleasure.

Crying out, you nodded as Spencer continued to thrust his fingers in and out of you, “Fuck,” you said, caring less about your volume levels. Even less so when he responded by pressing the heel of his hand against your clit, the pressure proving to be enough to send you over the edge.

“It’s okay,” Spencer whispered in your ear, “Let it go for me, baby.” His words continued as you felt your walls spasming around his fingers, his ministrations had slowed, but he worked you through your orgasm before withdrawing his fingers and lifting them up to your mouth.

Accepting the invitation, you leaned forward and sucked the sweet juices off of his hand, slipping your tongue between his two fingers as you looked up at him. You half expected him to be watching you with lust-blown eyes, but he was watching you just as attentively as he had when you started this escapade.

He retrieved his fingers from your mouth with a satisfying pop and reached down to ruche the fabric of your dress up around your waist. “Wait,” he said suddenly, gripping the silky cloth, “I don’t have a condom.”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head, “I don’t mind.” Still breathing heavy from your previous orgasm, you shook your head again, “I mean. I’m on birth control – and I’m good at it. I mean I keep up with it.” Now babbling, you hoped he’d say something. “I’m clean. I trust you.”

Nodding in understanding, he placed a hand on the side of your neck and looked at you intently. “I’m not going to do anything until you catch your breath,” he told you, taking up an authoritative tone.

Blinking rapidly, you evened out your breathing as he ran his hand up and down your torso, “I’m sorry,” you whispered, taking another deep breath as you looked up at him.

Spencer shook his head, “Don’t be sorry.” He leaned his head down, pressing soft kisses down the side of your neck as you finally pushed his jacket off of his shoulders. “You’re so pretty,” he murmured, leaning down to grip the backs of your thighs.

“It’s okay if you can’t lift me,” you rambled quickly, getting his attention as you aired your concern.

He raised his eyebrows expectantly, pressing his hips into yours and lifting your feet off of the ground. The leverage that he had, along with the support of the wall behind him, allowed him to get both of your feet off of the ground. You would’ve spent more time being impressed by this feat if you weren’t so distracted by his painfully hard cock that had now slipped between your folds.

Leaning down, you desperately kissed his lips, wanting him to give you those open-mouthed kisses that you had started out with. Instead, you cried out when, without warning, his full length slipped into you.

Placing gentle kisses on your collarbone, Spencer murmured, “Are you okay?” He whispered, seeming like he was using all of his self-control to just stay still.

You nodded, feeling his cock throbbing so deep in you that you were almost afraid you’d come from just that pressure alone. “Been a while,” you murmured, taking a deep, shaky breath.

He hummed in understanding, “I’ve got you, take your time.”

His words filled your stomach with butterflies, and it wasn’t just because he was fully sheathed in you. “Spence,” you whimpered, “Move.”

On your cue, Spencer gave a tentative thrust, permitting your resulting moan to mix with his grunt. “Fuck, baby,” he said, continuing to thrust in and out of your cunt, filling the room with the crude squelching of your actions. “I’m not going to last long,” he informed you.

Throwing your head back in ecstasy, you moaned helplessly when Spencer dropped one of your legs to the ground, hooking his arm underneath your other knee, providing a new, deeper angle. You swore as the sensations started to feel overwhelming.

The new angle gave him more control over his movements, enabling him to use his free hand to pull at your breast through the fabric of your dress. As you tugged gently at his hair, you tilted your head back, “Spence, I- shit,” you cursed, recognizing the tell-tale signs of your second orgasm approaching.

If it weren’t for his words of encouragement, you would’ve been embarrassed by coming too quickly, and if anything, the words only spurred you closer to the finish line. “Come for me,” he said, thrusting harder into you as he tried to reach the same point. “Let me know how good I make you feel,” he said, continuing his thrusts until his hips stuttered.

“Coming,” you whimpered, dropping your head forward onto his shoulder as you felt your walls tightening around his hard length. Crying out as he continued to pound into you, you buried your face into his neck and nipped at the skin to muffle your sounds.

Now he was solely working toward his own orgasm, having given you two of your own. “You’re such a good girl,” he panted.

Suckling gently at the skin on his neck – not hard enough to leave a mark, you littered kisses on his sensitive skin. “Come in me, baby,” you murmured, trying to spur him on.

Your success was apparent as his movements faltered and his cock started throbbing, feeling the pulses of his cum as it filled you, your eyes rolled back at the feeling while Spencer slowed to a halt, waiting for a beat before he pulled out of you entirely.

Shuddering at the emptiness you now felt, you leaned against the wall once both of your feet were on the ground. As your legs trembled, you watched as Spencer crouched to fish something out of his jacket, leaving you with your mixture of fluids running down your legs.

As he grabbed the handkerchief from his breast pocket, you gasped slightly as you realized his intentions. “Spence, you’ll ruin it,” you insisted.

“Would you rather go back out there with my cum dripping down your thighs?” He asked, knelt in front of you with his brows raised in mock innocence.

Swallowing thickly, you shook your head, “Jesus.”

He chuckled, using the handkerchief to wipe up the mess the two of you had made on your legs before carelessly tossing it into a nearby trashcan. Noting the way your legs were still shaking, he lifted your chin ever so slightly, “Are you alright?”

Nodding, you offered him a tired, but genuine smile. “I’m great,” you told him, wiping underneath your eyes where you were sure there was a mess of mascara.

Taking your hand in his, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, Spencer led to toward the French doors that led to the balcony, taking you out into the fresh air.

As you leaned up against the railing, Spencer shook out his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, doing his best to keep you comfortable. “Hey,” you whispered, “I really am fine. Are you? How’s your hand?” In all of the hormones, you had forgotten about his injury.

Spencer nodded, looking over the property that Rossi had rented. “I’m good, Y/N. I feel good.” You wished he’d call you baby again, but maybe that was too much to ask for. His eyebrows furrowed.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked him, recognizing the look from years of working together.

He hummed, reaching up and sweeping a strand of hair off of your forehead. “That guy? The one who told you he’s into someone else? I can confidently say he’s an idiot.”

Flushing, you smiled to yourself at the fact that Spencer was calling himself an idiot, especially when he was anything but. Shrugging, you waved him off anyway, “Nobody’s perfect, Spence.”

“No, I suppose not, but even so…” he told you, allowing his voice to trail off like he wasn’t totally sure what he wanted to say to you. “If he can’t see what’s right in front of him, then maybe you need to turn your attention elsewhere.”

Sighing, you leaned your chin in your hand, “Thanks, but I don’t know. Maybe there is better out there, and I’m just not worth it.” No, after tonight, you’d likely never get over him. It might’ve started as a workplace crush, but you felt in your heart that it was now something deeper.

Spencer shook his head, “Now, that’s where we disagree.”

“Spencer, I can’t-“ Your voice is cut off when you hear someone calling your name from inside the building, smoothing out the front of your dress one more time, you step back into the room, coming face to face with JJ.

She smiles in recognition of you, but the grin immediately fades from her face when Spencer walks out behind you, “Hey, we’ve been looking for you guys,” she said flatly. “They’re about to cut the cake.”

Nodding, you took another quick look at Spencer before following the blonde out of the room, leaving your secret in the room behind you.

part two

3K notes · View notes

cacoetheswriting · 1 month ago

Text

break my heart again | chapter six from right where you left me.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (modern day au) word count: 6.4K

summary: He realises in that moment how, although you’ve never said anything, you have feelings for him too. Back then, even stronger now. All along. All this time. And Eddie does next what he knows is wrong. He forces your hand — just like he did three years ago, but this time, he’s hoping for a different outcome. That’s all he’s got left. Hope.

content warnings: forced proximity, angsty, slow burn, suggestive & mature themes, adult language, emotional hurt / little comfort, some serious mutual pining, use of pet names, implied intimacy | non-explicit, plus mentions & descriptions of underage alcohol consumption / substance abuse, recreational drug use, discusses sobriety, also touches on topics of: death, grief, toxic relationships, gaslighting, self-doubt / insecurities, love triangle?, unrequited love — pls let me know if i missed any!

psa: any images used in chapter headers don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also vaguely — if at all— described in the story.

2:34AM.

The house is still. Quiet and empty. Everyone is hiding away in their own rooms, trying to get some sleep after a long and exciting day.

Except the house is not still. There’s shouting bouncing between the walls, keeping the group awake. Raised voices coming from one bedroom.

Eddie’s, to be exact.

Ding. Phones illuminate the darkness. The group chat.

Steve: They’ve been arguing for over an hour… Robin: should someone check what’s going on? Robin: not it

Jonathan sends a thumbs down emoji.

Nancy: Let’s leave them alone for a bit longer. Steve: I’m trying to sleep Robin: we’re all trying to sleep, Harrington Nancy: 15 minutes and I’ll go, okay?

Thumbs up reactions fly in. The chat dies down for a moment. Phones get locked, attempts at eavesdropping continue.

Robin: do we know what they’re arguing about? Robin: they looked mighty cosy this evening and now this? Steve: I can take a wild guess Robin: do enlighten us, detective Jonathan: Guys, it’s not our business. Steve: They’re kinda making it our business, Byers Steve: I suspect it’s got something to do with Chrissy Robin: of fucking course

Chrissy has had enough of being made to look like a fool. She felt as though she sacrificed enough for Eddie Munson during their time together and she wanted something in return, for the years she wasted on the metal-head. For all the instances he’d tell her you meant nothing, yet his actions proved otherwise.

Chrissy no longer wanted to be the butt of the joke.

Recording her version of the story, articulating it into words she’s been too afraid to feel, was therapeutic. She should have left it there. Let the past go and find someone who actually cares. But she couldn’t just let it be. Not so deep down, she wanted Eddie to hurt — you’re just collateral damage, a means to an end.

You pressed play without thinking too much about the implications because what could Eddie’s pretty ex-girlfriend possibly want with you. Issue some vague and empty threats, perhaps? Or maybe to tell you something along the lines of ‘good luck, he’s an asshole’ — typical ex-girlfriend stuff.

Only there isn’t anything typical about Chrissy’s message.

Listening to it once should have been enough for you, but no, you had to go and hurt your heart by playing it again and again and again, until the words made even less sense than they did the first time around.

It’s incredibly incriminating, to say the least, and you don’t quite believe that anything Chrissy has said is true, so you let auto-pilot take over and saunter down the hall, towards Eddie’s bedroom.

He opens the door before you even get a chance to knock, as if he knew you were coming. As if he felt your energy gravitate in his direction and he wanted to meet you halfway. A smile reaches his lips, cocky yet soft, and your heart clenches because you desperately want everything to remain on the edge of whatever the hell you two have been doing all day.

“Miss me already, angel?” He quips, arm above his head, resting against the frame.

“We need to talk,” you say and slide under his bicep, stepping inside his safe space.

Eddie shifts, his smile faltering. He gets the sense that he’s not going to like what’s about to come out of your mouth. He swallows a breath and shuts the door with the heel of his foot, a gentle thud vibrating against the floorboards.

“What’s going on?” Concern laced through his tone.

You don’t answer. Not really. Instead, you hold up your phone, the one you’ve been gripping tightly in your hand, imprints left behind on your palm.

Staring at the metal-head, you press play. Chrissy’s voice booms from the speaker and you observe Eddie for any sort of reaction: to prove she’s lying. She has to be lying.

“Okay, ugh. This is so weird,” Chrissy’s note begins. “You don’t have to listen to this. In fact, I half expect you’ve already turned it off because you don’t owe me anything. We were never friends, just friendly. Acquaintances by nature or some shit.”

She pauses. Eddie’s eyes dart between you and the phone. He takes a step forward, but doesn’t try to come any closer to you. Almost as if he knows what his ex-girlfriend is about to say and he feels helpless to stop it.

“Now that you seem to have reconciled with him. There’s something I think you ought to know. Something he definitely won’t tell you since he’s always been quite chickenshit when it comes to the truth and you - separately and combined.”

You play the second voice note, eyes not leaving Eddie’s brown ones for a second.

“Our graduation party. There’s not a lot I know about what happened between you, Eddie, and Steve. He never told me the specifics, but I can piece together a rough picture and I know there was a blowup, one he blamed you for.”

Shuffling in the background indicates she’s on the move as she speaks.

“Listen, I’m not here to make assumptions or whatever. I just think there’s been a certain double standard which you don’t deserve - coming from me, that must feel like a shocker.”

Chrissy chuckles. The voice note ends. You play the next one, but not before Eddie says your name which makes your insides curl.

“After you fought for everyone at the party to hear, and after Eddie took you home, I don’t know if you know that he came back. I found him ruffling through the bushes. I suppose he was looking for something, although he never told me what. He never told me much when it came to you.”

Your free hand lands on the guitar pick around your neck.

“Well, I invited him in.”

“Angel—”

“Eddie, shut up.” You interrupt, voice quavering because now, seeing the downcast expression on his face, you know what Chrissy is about to say next is true.

The note continues.

“I’ll spare you the details. We slept together. Bet Eddie would never tell you that, huh? He’s all high and mighty about whatever you did with Steve earlier that very same night, when in reality he’s not much better.”

A pause for dramatic effect.

“Then, word spreads that you’ve skipped town and Eddie comes around more often. I asked about you, you know? I asked if he told you about what we did because I’m not stupid, I know there’s always been something between the two of you, and I didn’t want to step on any toes in case you came back. All he did was shrug and say you didn’t deserve to know anything from him anymore.”

Tears wet your lashes.

“Talk about being a conniving asshole.”

In the last, shortest note, she adds, “Sorry you had to find out this way.”

With the click of a thumb, you lock your phone and go back to gripping it, tight. Anger seeps through your fingers, although that’s where it starts and ends. The rest of you feels borderline numb — which usually drives you to drink. You hate yourself for this setback, but more so for allowing this in the first place. For getting caught up in Eddie’s forgiveness and his laugh, his touches and kisses, his promises of a better tomorrow.

The sham is clear. Chrissy spelled it out in her voice notes.

Eddie Munson gave you hell for kissing Steve then jumped into bed with the blonde Cunningham. Whatever. He needed someone to make him feel better. That’s not what irks you.

What hurts the most is the radio silence that followed beyond the night. The years of no contact.

What hurts the most is allowing you to think everything was your fault. For allowing you to isolate yourself from your friends, your home. For letting you stew in misery, thinking you hurt him beyond repair.

“I was going to tell you,” Eddie says, taking another step in your direction. “I swear, angel. I-I just didn’t know how to go about it.”

You scoff although your voice wobbles as you say, “Well, thank god for your ex-girlfriend.”

Eddie’s now an arm-length away.

“Look, I-I know this looks bad, but this doesn’t have to change anything,” he half-pleads. “I mean, we dated after, so it’s not like—”

“Like me and Steve?” You interrupt in disbelief at this entire situation. “I thought we moved past that.”

“We did,” he agrees with a shake of the head. “Fuck! I-I am just trying to say how what happened between me and Chrissy is different.”

Slowly, you nod. “Right, because that explains it so much better.”

“Angel—”

“You think I’m mad because you had sex with her?”

He seems shaken by your question which answers it immediately.

“Eddie, I don’t give a shit about who you sleep with. Chrissy, those horny moms that listen to your radio show, whoever else.” You tell him, “I’m upset because I went years believing everything that happened to us was my goddamn fault!”

The yell slips and he flinches, not expecting such ferocity.

Eddie left you to your own guilt and that’s his prerogative. The secrets however, they hurt. First the Billy thing, and now this. And imagining how different things could have been if you knew all this information sooner makes you want to scream.

“You keep secrets, Eddie. Billy and this, and you fail to realise how these secrets impacted me and my decisions!” You accuse. “What’s worse, we had a heart to heart last night, which would have been a good opportunity to tell me about this thing with Chrissy, but you chose yourself over me, again.”

“That’s not fair,” he says. “You still left, remember? You didn’t have to do that. You could have stayed and we uh, we could have tried to work it out—”

“I left because of you!”

Something snaps then. The last string of forging forward.

“Okay, I don’t like the accusation when you’re the one who made out with my friend.” Eddie goes on defence.

“Jesus! How many times are you going to make me apologise?” You throw your arms up with the question. “I was drunk and sad. My best friend—” You point to the metal-head. “— just told me he had feelings for me at quite literally the worst possible time and I wasn’t ready to…”

The sentence fades as you shake your head. “No. You don’t get to say anything about me kissing Steve anymore because you forgave me, remember?”

He’s staring at you. Hands formed into fists at his sides.

The argument bounces back-and-forth like this. You’re hurt. He’s hurt. Neither of you willing to back down first because there’s a whole lot more to lose now than there ever was before — boundaries crossed, all those kisses and whatever the fuck they mean.

“Do the others know?” You ask, breaking a tension filled moment of silence.

Eddie shakes his head.

You smack your lips together. “That tells me you’re ashamed, which means you know what you did is wrong.”

“What do you want me to say?!” He half-shouts, feeling agitated and defeated all at the same time.

“You still haven’t said you’re sorry,” you answer, softer, sadder.

Eddie’s heart clenches. He can see the hurt behind your eyes, hear it in your voice. He should have apologised, but you came in hot and he felt blindsided — not like that’s a good enough excuse, although maybe it is considering some forty-eight hours ago, you two were hating each other.

Well, he didn’t hate you. Never ever. Quite the opposite in fact, all this time.

“I'm sorry, okay.” Eddie says eventually. “I am really fucking sorry.”

“If only that wasn’t so forced.”

He sighs. “We’re going in circles here, angel.”

And the argument starts again. At this point, it feels stupid, but there’s a gnawing inside your chest that’s not allowing you to let this shit go.

“You let me believe you were broken over me.”

“I was!” Eddie shouts. “What happened with Chrissy has nothing to do with how I feel about you, goddamn it!”

You blink. Feel, he said. However, not even a split-second passes to let you dwell on the word and his use of it because Eddie continues with his rant.

“The facts are, you left. Despite whatever I said or did, and whatever you said or did. At the end of the day, you still left! And maybe I am a shitty person, shitty friend, for not reaching out and not telling you about getting with Chrissy that same night, fucking sue me!”

The metal-head approaches you as he speaks. He stops only when he’s toe to toe, hovering over you, demanding eye contact.

“I was heartbroken and I chose to react how I did to help me get over you!”

He fucked up, he knows, but you’re no better either. There’s been years of miscommunication and hidden information; that’s hard to fix over a few days.

“Eddie…” You whisper his name and search his gaze for absolution. An ending to this whole debacle.

“Which frankly, is a tough fucking thing to do,” he adds and clenches his jaw in anticipation of what you’re going to tell him next.

But you don’t get to reply. You don’t even have a minute for his admission to settle because his phone starts intensely vibrating on the bedside table.

Hanging his head, Eddie walks towards it and after glancing over his shoulder at you, a sad look on his face, he reads the texts that are coming into the group chat.

He types.

Eddie: We’re fine. Steve: Sure doesn’t sound like it, dude Steve: Heard my name a couple of times… Eddie: It’s fine. Robin: liar

He slips his phone into the back pocket of his jeans with a sigh, and as he turns back around, he says: “I’m sorry, angel. For my part, I am.”. But you’re not there anymore.

The door to his bedroom is wide open. You must’ve slipped out in the split-second he paid attention to his phone instead of what truly mattered.

He follows, looking for you. When he finds you outside, sitting on the lawn and staring ahead at the lake, you tell him you want to be alone. Eddie says he knows, yet plops down next to you because he’s not making the same mistake he did three years ago. He’s not letting you retreat and run away when he just got you back.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says earnestly, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes.

“So you’ve said,” you reply, choosing to focus on the reflection of the stars in the dark water.

He sighs. “You don’t make things easy, you know.”

“So you’ve said,” you repeat.

Suddenly, he’s in front of you. Parting your legs, so he can slide in between. His own knees bump your arms, keeping you in place, no escape, as his hands delicately grip your face and force you to meet his sad brown gaze.

“I should’ve fought for you.”

Not a simple sentence whatsoever. Hard to say, hard to hear. The words settle around you, within you. They hold your heart. Squeeze it and let the blood pour until you’re faint.

The weight of this is bigger than anything he’s ever said to you. Eddie knows this too. He feels the way your body sags in his embrace. How you’ve seemingly stopped breathing.

He realises in that moment how, although you’ve never said anything, you have feelings for him too. Back then, even stronger now. All along. All this time.

And Eddie does next what he knows is wrong. He forces your hand — just like he did three years ago, but this time, he’s hoping for a different outcome. That’s all he’s got left. Hope.

“I should’ve fought for you because I-I don’t think I’ve ever stopped… feeling things for you.”

“Eddie.”

“And I-I think the problem all along has been your fear of reciprocating anything real.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Maybe,” he says with a shrug, “Or maybe you’re just trying to find another reason, another excuse, to push me away so you don’t have to face what’s been in front of you all along. Me.”

He kisses you before the words fully escape his plump mouth. The fight’s not over. The argument, simply put on hold. His lips trace yours, then travel along your jaw and down your neck. He reaches your collarbone and kisses there too, slow and steady.

He wants to hear you say it. Admit the feelings you’ve been harbouring.

His movement is methodical. His hands now on your waist, splayed fingers digging into your lower back as he bites your flesh, coaxing a moan from your parted lips.

“Eddie,” you breathe, “This doesn’t fix anything.”

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

But you don’t. In fact, you lean forward.

“But we’re not having sex,” you mutter against his parted lips.

“Okay,” he breathes.

“And this doesn’t fix anything.”

“You already said that, angel.”

Since you have no further rebuttals — actually, you have plenty, but all you can think about right now is how much you want him.

Sure, the circumstances could be better, but fact remains. You want him to touch you and make you forget, make you feel better. Make you happy. And you want to return the favour, out on the grass, under the cover of darkness, because if nothing else, at least you’ll both have this moment.

3:17AM

Steve: It’s oddly quiet……… Nancy: Maybe they went to sleep? Jonathan: Exactly what we should be doing too.

He follows with a frown emoji, to which Harrington reacts with a thumbs down.

Robin: they’re not in their rooms Robin: and yes, I went to check because that’s what good friends do Jonathan: Not our business. Steve: The cars are still here, so they must be somewhere on the property Jonathan: Guys, seriously. Nancy: We should all go to sleep. Robin: fine Robin: but if they’re still missing in the morning, I won’t be the one talking to the cops Nancy: I’m sure they’re both fine. Steve: They’re in the backyard….. Robin: oh? Steve: They’re fine

He wraps the conversation up with a winky face and locks his phone. The rest of the group do the same, only after Robin sends one last message: “fucking finally”.

Finally.

That’s what you’d say to describe this moment too.

As Eddie’s hands gently slide under your top, as he works his lips along your jawline, as you tug his brown locks in your fingers, as he lay you down on the grass and wedged his denim-clad knee in between your thighs, finally is the thought that definitely crosses your mind.

Until it doesn’t.

“Eddie,” you mutter his name.

“Yes, baby?” He’s kissing down your neck, excruciatingly slow.

You exhale, eyes rolling to the back of your skull, turned on, but also nervous for his reaction to what’s about to come out of your mouth.

“What are we doing?”

He smirks against your skin. You can feel the twitch of his lips against that soft spot you didn’t even know you had until the metal-head found it.

“We’re not having sex,” he replies, teasing with your earlier comment.

The corners of your own lips twitch upwards involuntary. Happy, content. He’s funny. He likes you. Why is the devil on your shoulder trying to ruin this good thing?

“No.” Pressing your forehead to his, gently pushing away, you continue, “What are we doing?”

Slowly, the metal-head lifts his head, catching your gaze with his own. The gentle moonlight glow illuminates his face.

“There’s a lot riding against us,” you say. “And it doesn’t help that we’ve been avoiding this conversation.”

“What conversation?” He questions, although he already knows the answer.

“Eddie,” you whine. “We can’t keep pretending.”

Brows furrowed, he drops his hand to your lap, interlocking your fingers together. He squeezes once, twice, then swallows his breath. Nervous. A ticking time-bomb, this thing between you. That’s how he’d describe it. A lot of questions and excuses, not a lot of decisiveness out of fear, mainly.

“Pretending?” He ponders.

“Pretending it doesn’t hurt every time we look at one another,” you explain, “Pretending. everything is fine and we’re just two people who used to be friends.”

Eddie sighs. “That’s bullshit.”

And his lips are back on yours. Softer this time. A loving kiss. A loaded kiss. Making you forget why you were nervous in the first place because despite everything, he’s here and as are you. Together. Feeling… things. Liking each other. That should be enough.

Right?

Wrong.

Birds chirping and a cool breeze stir the brunette awake. He sits immediately because the first thing Eddie notices is how he’s alone — which is not how things ended at the ungodly hour of the night.

In the aftermath of a lovestruck haze, you fell asleep in his arms, but now you’re gone and dread spills into his gut.

Pulling his T-shirt over his bare torso, Eddie is on his feet and rushing toward the house. Inside, Steve throws him a look, a cup of coffee barely hiding the knowing smirk.

“Some night, huh?”

But Eddie ignores his friend. He’s got no time to entertain the teasing of it all. He needs to find you first.

“Fuck off, Harrington.” Eddie grumbles, albeit growing red as a beet.

Steve snorts a laugh, shakes his head, and dips out the back door to enjoy the rest of his morning coffee.

Eddie resumes his search.

The living areas are all deserted. Quiet. Upstairs, he checks his own room first, the common bathroom, and when they too prove vacant, he rushes down the hall until he reaches the door of the last place you could be.

He knocks. Once, twice. There’s no answer and his anxiety spikes. Calling your name, he helps himself inside. Also empty.

Worse. There’s no sign of you whatsoever.

Eddie circles the room, slowly. The bed is made. En-suite clear of any lotions and bottles alike. Hesitantly, he opens the wardrobe, only to find nothing at all. Free hangers and unoccupied shelves. Your suitcase is also gone.

Something catches the metal-heads eye. A singular item left behind. The plushy he won you at the fair. He reaches for it, then stops abruptly because a sound coming from downstairs catches his attention instead. The entryway. Hinges open, close.

Your laughter.

Hastily, Eddie grabs the toy and rushes out of the room. He stops at the top of the stairs when his wide gaze lands on the girl he was sure left him behind — again.

“You’re here?” He half asks, half says.

Your head snaps in his direction and a timid smile graces your features.

“Good morning.”

“You’re here,” Eddie repeats, stepping down the steps, until he’s an arms length away from you.

“Where else would I be?”

“Your room is empty,” he points out, then lifts the plushy in his hands, “This is the only thing that was left.”

You reach for the toy, but grab his hands instead. Fingers interlocking together and you squeeze.

“I packed up my car. The rabbit must’ve fallen out of my bag.” Slowly, you pull his knuckles to your chest.

He nods, once. Slowly.

“I-I just thought maybe you… The whole Chrissy thing and what I said last night…”

“Yeah, we should definitely talk before we leave today,” you say and offer him another smile.

Eddie takes it in, the twist of your lips, and relaxes slightly, but there’s a look in your eyes he can’t quite place. A certain detachment. He wants to ask you about it. He wants to double check that you’re okay because he doesn’t quite believe that you are. Unfortunately, he doesn’t get a chance because you slip away from him, into the kitchen where seemingly the rest of the group has now gathered.

The detachment is intentional. You’re just unaware that Eddie picked up on it. He wasn’t supposed to.

Truthfully, when you woke up this morning, tangled in his limbs on the hard grass, your insides curled with panic.

The metal-head kind of predicted it himself, with what he said. You’re afraid of falling. Love and other good things. You don’t want to feel them because they’ve hurt you before and he knows that. Which is why your instinct is to leave. Run to Las Vegas and forget about Eddie Munson once and for all. You can’t keep stringing him along forever.

You were almost free and clear, driving away without any goodbyes, when Nancy caught you.

She saw the look in your eyes and understood immediately because it’s the same look that you shared with her three years ago, when she told you to leave.

This time however, the Wheeler girl is telling you to stay. “At least say goodbye,” she says and you nod. “It’s the right thing to do.”

All through breakfast, you workshop a list of pros and cons to the internal turmoil of leave with Eddie or leave alone.

The Munson boy is staring at you from across the table and his deep brown gaze makes it all that much harder to think. Thoughts of he doesn’t deserve this, he doesn’t deserve this, he doesn’t deserve this, turn to, don’t leave him, don’t leave him, don’t leave. But no good will come of you staying, that’s what the devil is telling you. The dark part of yourself.

“This was a really good weekend,” Robin announces with a smile. “Thank you for organising, Nance. You’re the best.”

Steve lifts his mug. “To Nancy.”

“To Nancy,” the group echoes, you included.

“To us,” the brunette girl says instead.

Your gaze locks with Eddie’s and your heart drops. You don’t want to leave him. Not now, not ever. So maybe him coming with you to Vegas is a bad idea, because it’ll be that much more difficult to inevitably say goodbye?

His words echo in your mind: “Maybe you’re just trying to find another reason, another excuse, to push me away so you don’t have to face what’s been in front of you all along. Me.”, and despite the sinking sensation, you plaster on a smile and repeat Nancy’s sentiment, eyes not straying from the mahogany across from you for even a second.

“How about we each say what our favourite part of this trip has been?” Robin suggests, “Eddie, why don’t you kick us off?”

The metal-head swallows. He forces himself to look away from you, towards the remainder of the group and nods.

“Uhm. Sure.” He clears his throat. “I uh, I had fun at the fair.”

He doesn’t look at you when he answers because that would reveal too much to your friends. Although, judging by the snickers coming from Steve’s end of the table, they already know a lot more than they’re letting on.

“Good start,” Robin says and you can hear the smirk in her voice. “Who wants to go next?”

Argyle puts himself forward. He says he enjoyed canoeing the most and the whole table, minus you and Eddie, barks out in laughter. Jonathan reminds his friend that he never joined them on the lake, he was afraid, and Argyle disagrees.

“That doesn’t sound like me, dude.” He drawls.

The group continues to laugh.

“Okay, okay,” Steve interjects, ceasing his chortles. “My favourite moment was cutting onions that very first night.”

Your eyes snap in Harrington’s direction and for the first time all morning, the smile on your face doesn’t feel forced.

“Don’t be cute,” you tease.

Steve rolls his eyes. “What can I say, sweetheart. I loved reconnecting with you.”

“That’s been my favourite too,” Robin chimes.

“Guys, stop,” you force, getting slightly choked up about this sentimental moment you’ve found yourself in. “These feel like cop-out answers.”

“What’s yours then?” Robin asks.

You hesitate. There’s been a lot. Some bad moments too, although the good outweigh them. Eddie is at the top of your mind. Making out in the lake. Later, dry humping (etc.) on the grass. A burn in your cheeks at the sudden flashes of memory.

“It’s all been really nice,” is what you settle on.

Robin rolls her eyes. “Right, ‘cause that’s not a cop-out answer.” She huffs, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Nice,” Steve repeats. “I guess bumpin’ naughties—”

“Well,” Jonathan interrupts, “I agree. It’s all been really nice.”

You flash him a grateful smile and he tips his head in your direction. A way of expressing ‘don’t worry about it’ behind the look he’s sporting.

“Me too,” Nancy adds.

“You guys are no fun,” Robin half-whines. “Only Eddie understood the assignment, and even he’s not being a hundred percent truthful.”

“I am,” the metal-head speaks. “Being truthful, that is. I really liked the fair.”

Robin smiles at him. “I know, dude. But I also know you guys did something salacious last night,” she says, pointing between you and the brunette across from you, “And I would’ve thought that’s the favourite moment.”

“Robin!” Nancy breathes in shock.

“We… I-I…” You stammer, searching for the right thing to say since there’s no use in denying it.

“That’s none of your business,” Eddie huffs for the both of you.

“I told them that,” Jonathan says.

“Oh come on,” Steve laughs, “It’s not a big deal. We’re just happy for you two. It’s been a long time coming.”

Hesitantly, you look back at Eddie. His own gaze is fixated on the ceiling above, head resting on the edge of the chair. He’s thinking about that detached look on your face. How can he share the same energy as his friends when you feel like you’ve already slipped away?

“So, are you guys like, together?” Argyle asks innocently, pushing the conversation along. “Congrats either way, my dudes.”

You want the ground to swallow you up whole. For all the talking you’ve done with the metal-head, you’ve not discussed a lot about what any of this means. The plan was to do so last night, before Chrissy’s voice notes. Plans shift. Mere moments ago, you said you’d talk before it’s time to go. You certainly didn’t think you’d be having this conversation in front of / thanks to your friends.

“We’re not together,” you say, blinking the embarrassment away, and the whole table looks at you. Including Eddie, whose lips part as if to say something different.

And he does.

“We uhm,” the metal-head clears his throat. “We actually haven’t talked about it.”

“Not for lack of trying” You mean it as a whisper, for no one in particular to hear. It comes out a little more intense than that.

Eddie leans forward. A snap judgement.

“You really want to do this here?” He asks quietly.

“Okay,” Robin chimes, “Guys, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, the dryness becoming unbearable. “All the arguing last night, and one reason we didn’t talk, would be my ex-girlfriends fault.”

Steve shouts, “I knew it!”, while you flutter your eyes closed. Breathing in, then out.

Last night. You decide, a little too late, that last night would’ve been a good idea to finish the argument. Wrap this cursed graduation party topic up, once and for all.

Instead, you gave into deep confessions and Eddie’s beautiful chocolate-button eyes, his light touches and the sensation of his lips on yours.

The group is chattering. They’re pressing Eddie for more details on what his hell-of-an ex did this time. He’s trying his best to fend them off: intentions may be innocent, but it’s none of their business. Unfortunately, he’s not having much luck.

Eventually, he cracks.

“I slept with her.”

Opening your eyes at that moment, you look at him again. His attention is already on you. Apologetic, sad.

“Well, duh, dude,” Robin begins, “You dated her. We kinda assumed you boinked.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Before,” he says, pauses. You can see him swallow his nerves. “The night of the graduation party.”

Silence stretches across the table.

And then you realise something.

You have to leave. Alone.

The flight to Vegas, and everything in between, cannot happen. How can you entertain the idea of falling for someone who, aside from wild confessions, doesn’t want to talk things through?

He too is always finding an exit strategy. Later, later, later. Eddie says later and nothing happens because there’s something different that gets in the way. His own excuses since he too is afraid to get hurt.

“Dude,” Steve begins, “That’s like…”

“It’s fine,” you chime. “That’s one of the things we actually did talk about. Not completely, but more than other stuff. ‘Cause we’ve done a lot of catching up, but uh, it’s all been very surface level.”

“Surface level?” Eddie asks in disbelief.

“Aside from Chrissy’s confession, we haven’t talked about anything real, Eddie.” You continue. “And we probably won’t because one of us will always find an excuse. Plus, there’s just too many other variables that make things difficult and as nice as this weekend has been,” you pause, heart hammering inside your chest, “We should stop kidding ourselves.”

His jaw locks into place.

“If that’s how you feel,” he says, monotone.

You nod, then blatantly lie. “That’s how I feel.”

Eddie stands. Chair sliding, falling backwards with force. He leaves before anyone else can add to the shitsorm that’s just transpired. Steve follows after his friend, shooting you an apologetic glance before he leaves. Robin and Nancy are suddenly on either side of you. The blonde telling you how she’s sorry for pushing this topic and the brunette reminding you that this doesn’t have to end. You freeze their voices out. Focusing on only one thing: the heartbreak in Eddie’s eyes as you spoke the words you didn’t mean.

Only a few seconds, you think, that’s all it ever takes to ruin a good thing.

After breakfast, you don’t care to stay much longer.

Itching instead, to get back to Fort Wayne. See your mom. Cry about everything while she hugs you. Maybe you’ll stay there a couple of days. Call in sick to work. Fake an emergency. Have her piece you back together. Maybe, while you’re with her, you’ll change your mind— No.

One by one, the group exchange goodbyes. Quick and long hugs. Promises of staying in touch. Some tears. A lot of pained laughter.

Robin says she’ll call every day and she’ll see you soon, for her girlfriend's birthday bash.

Nancy reassures her and Jonathan will also plan a trip to see you, and once again tells you about the room at her future house with your name on it. You stifle a sniffle and embrace her for a second too long.

Jonathan offers some wisdom. The silent killer, Jonathan Byers. A man of very few words yet, as you have come to experience, they’re somehow always the right ones. His hug is quick and you appreciate that about him. No mushy things needed.

Argyle announces loud and proud how it’s been nice to meet you, get to know you. “Likewise,” you tell him honestly and exchange a fistbump.

Steve’s next on the goodbye train. This hug you don’t particularly want to let go of. His strong arms hold you tightly, as if he’s trying to take away all of your worries and pain. In a hushed whisper, he apologises for what happened earlier and says how he only wants you to be happy — a sentiment not so dissimilar to the first conversation you had together this weekend. You place a soft kiss on his cheek and tell him you love him, because it’s true. He smiles, forehead pressed to your own.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Platonically, the feeling is not as scary.

When you break apart, you glance between the group and a lump forms in your throat. These are the best people you have ever met and reconnecting with them this weekend is what really matters, at the end of the day.

This group, plus Eddie.

Because Eddie is currently not here. He didn’t come to say goodbye.

And as you stride down to your car, glancing over your shoulder one last time, at your friends, at the house, you feel a thousand times worse for wear.

Until the front door opens with a violent shake.

Eddie comes into view. He’s got a wild expression on his face as he barrels down the front porch steps, then the gravel which crunches underneath his sneakers.

He pushes through your mutual group of friends and doesn’t stop his pace until he’s face-to-face with you, peering down into your surprised eyes, slightly breathless.

“It’s not been surface level,” he says.

“Eddie,” you begin, but his thumb is suddenly pressed against your bottom lip and you stop dead in your tracks.

“I’ve been head over heels in love with you for a very long time, angel.” Eddie states, a nervous tick in his voice because you don’t do well with proclamations, but he’s not going to let you leave this time.

(Never. Again.)

“Long before this weekend, definitely over the last three years, and before the graduation party, before Billy. Probably, actually,” he swallows, “I’ve been in love with you since the very first time I saw you.”

Tears brim the corners of your eyes as the metal-head continues.

“And I know there’s a lot we haven’t talked about and a lot we need to figure out, but this thing we have, baby, I’ll be damned if I let you get in that car right now thinking that all we’ve done is surface level.”

“Eddie,” you try again.

He shakes his head. “Unless you’re going to tell me you’re staying to have a proper conversation, the one I owed you yesterday, I don’t want to hear it.”

Someone — Robin — shouts, “Kiss him, you fool.” and the rest of the group snickers. Well, Argyle and Steve snicker, while Jonathan and Nancy remprimend the lot.

Then they lead them back into the house, leaving you with this boy who is wildly in love with you, and who you perhaps love back, but how can you even begin to tell him that, since the last time you uttered those words, they were to someone who died.

“Please, angel.” Eddie pleads.

You open your mouth, then close it just as fast, chewing instead, on the inside of your cheek for what feels like eternity. In reality, it’s only a split-second while your brain works out what to do.

When you lean forward, inhaling his breath, his scent, him, you don’t intend to kiss him. You do anyway. Softly, tenderly.

And suddenly, your arms are around his neck and his hands are on your waist. He’s pinning you to the side of the car and his knee is wedged between your thighs. Your fingers pull his brunette locks and he bites your bottom lip, hungry, needy, pleading for something else entirely than a conversation.

“Okay,” you mutter against his parted lips, “Let’s talk.”

as always, thank you for reading & please support your writers by reblogging <3

@ali-r3n @thelazyarchangel @hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel @peculiarwren @fxoxo @losingmygrasponreality @kellsck @sp1dyb0y1008 @mmmunson @somethingvicked @darknesseddiem @scream4mami @pineapplechuncks @sophiejayne-illustrations713 @emxxblog @bl0ssomanddie @theladyhellfire @gracelouiseoneill @emquinn94 @transparent-enemy @rach5ive @knew-better-forever-girl-two @lemonmarquee @mossgh0st @probablyin-bed @dustbowleddie @residentoftomlinsonsass @heart-eyed-love @munsonburn3r @helsa3942 @althaiareads @theladyhellfire @v1per1ne @sugarplumsweetiepie @rizzraa @micheledawn1975 @gracelouiseoneill @moremaple @bigpoppascherry @jeangeniex @daisy-munson @ceeezy @kissmyacdc @cyressluvy @mango-slush-boba @iyskgd @bigpoppascherry @everlove @tieganspeirs

#okay friends before you get mad: there will be another chapter!#right where you left me.#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff

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vicolette · 12 days ago

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𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 !!

– Warnings: English isn’t my first language, uses of y/n, not proofread.

"You eat like a starved man, bro."

Hector stopped eating for a split second as his eyes darted to meet the ones of Lamine, who had just made that remark with a wide grin on his face and his eyes shining in mischief. They both were out with a few friends, having thought that it would be a great idea.

Well, if he could ignore the fact that you were right beside him of all people, then it might have been as casual as a normal Saturday afternoon hang out for lunch could possibly be – Pau chatting his sister in an attempt to get her to pick him up, Alejandro making the most ridiculous jokes of all time, and last but not least, Lamine glancing at him in pure excitement.

Because only this idiot knew about Hector's crush on you. How he had found it out? He didn’t know, but he hoped that it wasn’t obvious to you at the very least.

Well, it seemed like you were peacefully enjoying your food while some mutual friends were blabbering nonsense about anything and everything. Your thigh was just slightly brushing against his, and he swore that he felt like death itself could get him and he wouldn’t regret a thing.

Until he finished his food. The expression of surprise on your face wasn’t easy to miss, much less for a guy like Hector, who paid attention to your every move. You took a look at it, and then furrowed your eyebrows.

After that, Alejandro suddenly got his attention and showed something so unfunny on his phone, that it somehow made it funny, making Hector shake his head while he let out a small chuckle.

The following next minutes were spent with Hector picking at the little leftovers from his lunch, mindlessly scrolling through his TikTok feed while his ears were actually halfway listening to Pau rant about how cute this animal was that he had seen. Then, Lamine suggested the game truth or dare, with his first victim being Hector.

Great.

"So! Truth…" As he interlocked his fingers and made a dramatic pause, Hector could only hope that he wasn’t about to make him confess his love for you out loud. "… or dare?"

"Dare." A whistle was heard as he gave one of your friends a mere glance, wondering just why some random guy had to tag along with you.

"Collect the trash." They didn’t even know each other, and this stranger was daring to tell him what he should do? He was about to say something insulting in response, when you abruptly interrupted him by accident.

"Hey, don’t say that!" As you quietly scolded him for randomly saying that, instead of letting Lamine give him a dare, Hector stood up and took everyone’s finished meals. Alejandro quickly wiped his mouth with a tissue before tossing it on his plate, Pau thanking him, and Lamine giving him the 'I know why you did that' stare.

As he took the rubbish of that weirdo, Hector gave him a glare before turning to your direction, a sheepish smile on his face as he shrugged it off, when he suddenly saw your plate.

You still had some food left to eat, so Hector didn’t say anything except for you to enjoy it and walking over to bring it away. In the way there, he checked the time to see that it was slowly getting late and that they still had some plans to do before parting ways, so he wondered how long it would take you to finish it.

Just as he had returned, his attention shifted from you to that guy again, seeing how he was ready to leave already and was on his way to the exit. Meanwhile, your mutual friends just stayed and tried to persuade him to come back, since you hadn’t finished yet.

As Hector sat back down on his seat and stared down at your plate, seeing how you couldn’t eat that fast enough to please him, he shrugged his shoulders and looked at Lamine, who was still stressing over that random.

It seemed like no one really liked him. At least not much, since you somewhat had the audacity to bring him with you.

"You can go." All of a sudden, Hector snapped as he stared daggers at him, his eyes narrowed while Pau quite literally tensed up at his tone of voice. It so clearly meant that he wasn’t going to deal with people like him – impatient, bossy, irritating ones.

Meanwhile, you were trying to get everything inside your stomach without eating too fast, wanting to enjoy your food without being pressured to eat too much all at once. With an assuring hand on your shoulder, Hector leaned in and whispered into your ear. "Forget about that rat, eat slowly."

Before you could even say anything, he sat normally with a straight back and raised an eyebrow that the stranger, seeing how he finally left after a short while of complicating whether or not he should stay. Lamine pumped his fist into the air, with Alejandro beside him snickering at his actions before turning to you. "Why did you even bring him with you?"

You could finally calm down and nervously play around with your food, thinking for a while about what to say. "He didn’t want to be alone, so he just came with me."

"No asking or anything?" Alejandro questioned with a loud gasp. Seeing how you shook your head only made him raise an eyebrow and look at you up and down, while Lamine stared at Hector for a while before glancing at your direction, wiggling his eyebrows with joy.

If he could, Hector would have punched him in the face.

Instead, he didn’t bother to listen to Pau talk about how the music taste could genuinely affect a couple’s relationships, and watched as you silently continued to eat in a rush, nudging your elbow.

He hated himself a little for acting so rude, cursing under your breath before he saw how you looked at him, offering some food in thanks for standing up for him. Hector could only shake his head, leaning in once again as his words sent shivers down your spine.

"Take your sweet time."

– A/N : do we fw the new theme or nah

#hector fort #hector fort x reader #hector fort imagine #hector fort x y/n #hector fort x you #hector fort oneshot #fc barcelona #fc barca #football #footballer #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer x you #fluff #new theme #idk if this is anything #feedback is appreciated

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wwinterwitch · 1 month ago

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feels like fate – joel miller

summary: you've had a crush on joel for quite a while now and you suspect that he might feel the same, hopeful that something happens at the new year eve's party

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k

tags: tons of fluff, mutual pining, reader is a kindergarten teacher, age gap (wrote this picturing joel in his 50s and reader in her 30s), maria, drunk!dina, ellie and jesse briefly featured

a like and/or reblog is always appreciated!

all masterlists | pedro pascal characters masterlist

You feel like a complete fool walking into that New Year's Eve party, not really anticipating just how mortifying it would be to walk through those doors after spending a ridiculous amount of time doing your hair and your makeup...just in a silly attempt to impress a guy.

It felt almost unreal to you. Something so incredibly out of your character. Yet here you are, dressed to impress, making your way further inside as some people that knew you started acknowledging your arrival. Thankfully, everyone you make eye contact with offers you a friendly smile as you walk past them, which helps to ease your nerves.

Most of the people that greeted you were parents of the little kids you teach at the local kindergarten, a colorful building next to the new library. Aside from your job as a teacher, you really don’t stand out much. You tend to keep to yourself, with modest amount of friends and an almost inexistent love life.

A few dates here and there over the years... casual flings that never really led anywhere...nothing remarkable. Eventually you just didn’t care about that aspect of your life, already used to the same couple of guys trying to get your attention here and there. Nothing that was worth getting excited for.

But that's until Tommy Miller's brother showed up.

That man somehow found a way to turn your world upside down from the moment the two of you met. He caught your eye almost immediately, and even though you could be wrong, you're pretty sure you made a good first impression on him too.

Why else did he offer to fix that light in your front porch when he heard you complain about it with a neighbour, just to then show up at your house a few days later asking if it was working properly now? And why would he sometimes stop by at the school when all the kids are going back to their houses to have a chat with you? It's not like he's the most friendly person either, so why would he bother with you, right? Right?

It sounds ridiculous– maybe a bit embarrassing, too. To let your brain convince you he might like you back. That you’re somehow special enough to break all of the barriers Joel has seemed to build up over the years to push people away. That you could steal his heart just like he has stolen yours. Well…there’s really no harm in fantasizing about all of that.

And yes, you sound completely delusional, but it truly feels like fate. You've never felt this way about anyone before, and you still struggle to comprehend how you ended up in this situation. How exactly did he manage to slip into your heart like it was nothing? Like it’s been waiting for him all along? One day you're shaking hands with a complete stranger and before you know it, you're unable to get him out of your mind.

But maybe you are delusional, and that's why you took extra time to get ready tonight in hopes of Joel noticing the efforts you've put in looking like this tonight. Perhaps he won’t notice. Perhaps he won’t even show up.

You keep walking, looking around for someone familiar enough to strike up a conversation. That’s when you notice Maria walking towards you, a grin on her face.

"Looking good," is all she says, her tone oddly suggestive.

You immediately feel self-conscious, trying to avoid eye contact as you clear your throat. "Thanks."

She could tell you started to feel nervous, so she immediately tries to be reassuring. "I really do mean it, by the way. I just couldn't help teasing you."

"Is it too much?" you ask, slightly panicking. “It is, isn’t it?”

"Absolutely not," she replies almost immediately, like you just said the most ridiculous thing she has ever heard. "Do you feel like it's too much?"

"Well...I don’t know, but I like how I look."

Maria smiles at that, nodding. "And that’s all that matters. If you like how you look then it's absolutely perfect." She takes a brief pause before leaning closer, smirking. "And I'm sure Joel will like it too."

"W-What?" you asked in shock, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. "I don't–"

"Oh, please! Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. You two always look at each other like you could quite literally start drooling at any second...heart eyes and everything. It's almost sickening," she comments in a playful voice, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I, uh..."

Before you can answer properly, you locked eyes with the one person you were expecting to see tonight. He has just entered the bar all by himself, looking a bit lost at first, brows slightly furrowed. Then, he notices you’re there at the party, and a soft smile immediately appears on his lips.

"Yeah, that's the look I'm talking about," Maria muttered, right before placing a hand on your shoulder as a way of saying goodbye. "See you later."

You immediately turn to look at Maria again, watching as she walks away to greet other people. Panic sets in when you realize you’re all by yourself once again. Not knowing what else to do, you look down at your hands, fingers nervously fidgeting, very much aware that Joel is walking towards you. It's ironic how the initial desire to be seen by him has somehow turned into the urge to become invisible. You've always been more confident in your head, definitely not anticipating what it would actually feel like to be here in this scenario and how you'd truly react.

His presence is practically overwhelming at this point, forced to look up at him now that he's standing before you. As you take a look at him, you can't help but notice he's done some effort tonight as well. His hair is brushed back and the nice smell of his cologne almost makes you want to lean closer to him.

"Hi." He's the first one to speak, making you that much nervous when you notice his eyes travel down your form. He clears his throat as soon as he realizes what he's doing, immediately looking up. "You look...you look great."

"Thanks, Joel," you reply, a soft smile on your lips. "I was wondering if you were gonna show up tonight, since these types of events are not really your thing..."

"Oh, yeah, well..." he shrugged, staying quiet for a few seconds while he tried to come up with something else to say. You could tell he was nervous, which made you smile even more as you waited for him to continue. "I guess I'm...trying new things. Step out of my comfort zone."

Before you could say anything, the two of you are interrupted when you hear someone nearby. "Dude, this is embarrassing to watch! I told you he's got no game!"

You turn around just in time to see Ellie and Jesse telling Dina to shut up. She giggles as she wraps an arm around the other girl that stands next to her, and her movements let you know she's had a lot to drink already.

Ellie and Jesse look embarrassed that they got caught eavesdropping, although you could tell Ellie is trying very hard to hold back her laughter. "Sorry," the guy says, looking at Joel with an apologetic look on his face.

That's when Dina realizes what's happening. "Whoopsie," she giggles again, dragging Ellie and Jesse away. "Sorry, Joel. Good luck!"

You can't help but laugh at the situation, watching the three of them walking away, noticing how Jesse's lecturing Dina while she keeps clinging to Ellie and trying not to stumble on her own feet.

When you turn back to look at Joel, you notice a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment on his face, barely able to even make eye contact with you anymore. "I'm so sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it," you replied almost immediately, knowing you had to say something else to make the situation between you less awkward. "I believe they’re having a good time."

Joel smiles, watching as the trio walks off. "Dina definitely is," he points out. "Can't say the two babysitters look like they're enjoying themselves that much."

"Yeah, that's probably true. Poor kids."

There's a brief silence, not necessarily an awkward one, but you can tell he wants to say something else. Eventually, he speaks again. "How have you been?"

"Fine. I mean, just the usual. A lot of the kids wanted to have a bonfire soon to celebrate the new year, but I still haven't started planning all that. Maybe I'll ask some of the parents for help."

"Sounds fun," he says with a soft smile. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

"You can be in charge of the hot chocolate."

The little joke makes Joel laugh. A true, genuine laugh that makes the butterflies in your stomach multiply. "Hey, if that'll make me useful, I'm in."

You can't help but keep smiling at him, feeling so incredibly giddy. Is this perhaps what Maria was talking about before? You probably have the exact same look she was describing earlier.

Almost as if you were in some cheesy romantic movie, the cheerful music drastically changed to a much slower tune, noticing a bunch of couples deciding to start dancing together. Joel seems to notice what's going on too, but doesn't dare to acknowledge it, silently watching a couple that walk past the two of you.

Hesitant at first, you eventually decided to test your luck. What’s the worst that could happen? "Would you like to dance?"

The question definitely took him by surprise, quickly turning back to look at you. "What?"

You had no problem repeating yourself, letting out a soft giggle. "I asked if you wanted to dance with me, Joel."

"I don't really–"

"You said you're stepping out of your comfort zone," you remembered, which makes him grin. His usual playful grin that makes you feel like a teenage girl developing her first crush all over again.

"That's really outside of my comfort zone."

Trying to encourage him, you reach out to grab his hand as you start walking towards the other people dancing. To your luck, he doesn't hesitate one bit as he starts walking with you. "I promise it's not as difficult as you probably think it is."

The two of you find a spot in between all the couples dancing and you turn around to look at him. Despite feeling incredibly nervous at this moment, you knew he probably feels even worse right now, agreeing to something you suggested that he probably hasn't done in years. It's only fair that you take the lead for now.

You could feel his body tensing slightly when you place both of his hands on your waist before placing yours around his shoulders. With a reassuring smile, you start softly swaying from side to side, hoping he'd follow your lead.

"See?" you say cheerfully when he immediately starts imitating what you're doing. "It's not difficult."

He nods swiftly, looking down at his feet. "I guess," he mutters, his extreme concentration to every single one of his movements making you laugh. "I don't want to step on your shoes," he says, letting out a nervous chuckle right after.

"You're not gonna step on my shoes," you reassured him, and that's when he finally looks back up into your eyes. "You're a natural."

He shrugs, looking slightly more comfortable now. "Or maybe I just have a really good teacher."

The comment makes you playfully roll your eyes. "And to think Dina had the audacity to say you have no game."

Joel laughs at that, shaking his head at the memory of that little incident that took place a few minutes ago. Rather than replying right away, you feel his hands move to the small of your back, gently pulling you closer to him. "So you disagree with her?"

"Maybe. I'm still not sure."

You can see something shifting in his demeanor, looking a lot more confident than ever before. He pulls you close until you're resting your chin on his shoulder, heartbeat rising when you feel his beard tickling your neck and his big, strong hands still firmly placed on your back.

"How about now?" you hear him whisper. In that moment, your knees could've easily given in and make you lose balance. He's really getting comfortable now.

You were unable to speak at first, simply hugging him tighter. A few people around you couldn't help but stare, probably intrigued by you and Joel's evident display of affection. Of course the possibility of a new couple forming in town would peak their interest, especially one so...unpredictable.

Joel's not necessarily a very approachable person, and he definitely looks quite intimidating. You, on the other hand, are known as the sweet kindergarten teacher all the little kids talk about with so much affection. It really is an unexpected pair.

Snapping out of it, you remember what Joel just asked you. "Now...I might disagree with her."

He chuckles against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Good," he says, right before moving back enough to lock eyes with you again.

You both dance together in silence, simply looking back into each other's eyes as you enjoy the proximity and undeniable chemisty. Like you have said in the past, it feels like fate. Somehow, in this doomed world, you were meant to find each other.

"You look so beautiful," he says out of nowhere, smiling down at you. "Early when I got here...I wanted to say you look beautiful."

"Great's also a nice compliment." He's still looking back at your first interactions tonight, feeling critical about his approach then. You didn't want him to feel like he did something wrong, or that he could've done things differently.

Joel nodded. "But that's not what I wanted to say," he insisted. "I'm sorry I was weird earlier. This whole thing is...it's just been a very long time since I've felt this way."

"And how exactly do you feel?"

He notices your little smirk, which inevitably makes him smile back at you, immediately noticing your playful tone. A few seconds later the smile on his face disappears, replaced by a serious expression. "Like I've finally found someone that makes me want to give love a second chance," he says, sounding incredibly sincere.

At first, you don't really know what to say, your heart instantly melting at his words. All you can do is smile, trying not to get visibly emotional, because this is truly fate. This all feels like it was meant to be. As crazy as it might sound, you can easily see yourself falling in love with Joel, spending as much time as this godforsaken world grants you next to him.

Last thing you wanted was to leave him hanging after what he said, quickly snapping out of your thoughts once again. "I think I'd like to give this a chance too."

You could see Joel's entire face light up after what you just said, like he has been waiting for you to say something along those lines. He presses you closer to him, right before leaning down for a kiss.

Sharing a kiss with Joel is exactly what you expected and just so much more at the same time. It almost feels like fireworks are exploding all around you, no one but the two of you existing at that moment. It's so sweet and gentle, yet so incredibly passionate. Is it possible to feel this much just with a kiss? Perhaps this is exactly what it feels like to connect with your soulmate.

As soon as you pull away, you could feel a lot more people staring at the two of you, but all you could really focus on is Joel. There's absolutely nothing else that matters more right now.

"I bet Dina doesn't think you've got no game now," you joke.

Joel quickly scans the room searching for the girl, smiling softly at something before looking down at you again. "I believe she's distracted right now."

Intrigued, you turn around to look in the direction Joel was just seconds ago, noticing Dina and Ellie dancing together. "I didn't know they were a thing."

"Me neither," Joel replied. "I mean, I knew there was something going on with Ellie...poor kid's awful at hiding her feelings. I wasn't sure if Dina liked her back, though."

"Well, it looks to me like she really likes her back."

Joel shrugs playfully. "Us Miller's, you know? We're kinda irresistible."

"Please, don't you ever say anything like that again," you laugh, immediately shaking your head. "It gave me actual chills."

He laughs back. "Sorry," he whispers, leaning in for a quick kiss as he stops dancing. "But you gotta admit it's true."

"Stop it," you warn him playfully.

"Fine." He stops himself for a few seconds, uncertain, before speaking his mind. "Uh, so I was thinking...it's movie night at the old theater tomorrow, so maybe we could go together."

"You'll get me popcorn?"

Joel looks offended by your question. "Of course."

"It's a date then," you reply. This time it's your turn to lean in for a kiss. It's like you could spend your entire life kissing this man. You're addicted already.

He nods in agreement, taking your hand to guide you out of the dance floor. You really didn't care where he was intending to go, you were just happy to get the chance to spend the rest of the party by his side.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller x female reader

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dismalflo · 3 months ago

Text

trivial

teacher!Remus Lupin x teacher!Reader who have coffee together one morning ✩ 1.6k words

summary: two teachers, you and remus, have fallen into a steady morning routine. when remus shows up with a surprise one morning, its fairly obvious you both fancy each other.

cw: fluff, pre relationship, light flirting, mutual pining, remus the sweetheart

an: hot english teacher remus agenda. thats all i have to say

You and Remus have settled into a comforting routine, one that helps you power through the days when exhaustion weighs heavily on your bones and brightens the ones that feel like a breeze. It took about a month of teaching at this school for the rhythm to fully take shape.

Each day, the two of you arrive at the car park almost simultaneously. What once started as awkward nods and brief exchanges has slowly evolved into him lingering in your history classroom or you in his English, chatting away the morning before the bell rings. Conversations that began with work-related topics have blossomed into something deeper, personal, and surprisingly meaningful.

So, when you find yourself sitting at your desk for a full fifteen minutes with no sign of your favorite teacher, you're left feeling unexpectedly unsettled.

You glance at the clock on the wall once more, the ticking of the seconds growing louder in the silence of your empty classroom. It's just unlike him. Remus is always punctual, and though the two of you had started with the sort of cautious familiarity that comes with working alongside someone, these little morning exchanges had become a staple of your day.

But today, for reasons you can’t explain, his absence gnaws at you. Maybe it’s because, over the course of a month, you'd gotten used to him showing up right on time, chatting about everything from the mundane to the slightly absurd, before starting your lessons. Or maybe, it's because there’s something more comfortable—something... pleasant—about his presence than you care to admit.

As if on cue, the door bursts open with a slight creak, and in rushes Remus, his hair a little more tousled than usual, and his cheeks flushed as if he'd been running. He holds two steaming cups of coffee in his hands, the scent of it immediately hitting you.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says, a sheepish smile playing at the corner of his lips. He holds one of the cups out towards you, and there's confusion twisting inside of you. Remus, on occasion, is known to get a coffee on his way into work when he's especially tired, but it never makes him later than usual and he never walks in with two.

“What’s this?” you ask with a smile on your face, amused.

“I was on my way in and remembered you said you liked a mocha a while back? So I stopped and grabbed one. Thought you might appreciate it.” His voice is soft, and there’s a warmth to it, as though he’s genuinely glad to have thought of you.

You blink, surprised, but the soft smile tugging at your lips betrays any attempt at masking your appreciation. "Remus, you didn't have to do that. But… thank you," you say, standing to take the cup from his hands.

His eyes light up, and there's a slight, almost imperceptible shift in his posture, as if pleased by your gratitude, but also maybe a little shy. "I know I didn’t have to,” he says, lowering his gaze for a moment. “But it seemed like a nice way to make up for being a bit late." His voice has that playful note that sends a little flutter through your chest, and you find yourself grinning.

You feel your cheeks warm, a little self-conscious. “Well, I appreciate the thought, truly. I’m not above a good coffee, especially when I didn’t have to fight the line myself.”

You glance at the coffee, then back at him, and in a moment of impulsive politeness, add, "Let me pay you back for it."

Remus chuckles softly, the sound rich and easy, and shakes his head. "No need," he says, brushing a stray lock of hair out of his face. "I’m just glad it's something you’ll enjoy." There's a slight tilt to his head, a glimmer in his eyes as if he’s trying to figure out what’s going on in your mind.

You take a tentative sip of the drink, the warmth and sweetness filling you, and then find yourself meeting his gaze again. His eyes are slightly narrowed in that way he has when he’s studying you, and for a split second, the air between you feels thick—charged, even.

"Well," you begin, trying to break the tension, your voice a little more breathless than you’d like it to be, "I’d say this is an excellent way to start the day." You feel the smallest of smiles tugging at the corners of your mouth, almost bashful in a way you weren’t expecting.

Remus looks down at his own coffee, cradling the cup in both hands, but not before you catch the way his lips quirk upward. He seems to be trying to keep his usual composed demeanor, but something about this small moment, about the unspoken understanding between you two, is slipping through. It's almost as though he’s thinking the same thing you are, and the quiet buzz in the room becomes hard to ignore.

Remus clears his throat softly, breaking the brief, simmering silence. His fingers tap lightly against the ceramic of his coffee cup, an unconscious rhythm that mirrors the one in your chest. “I—uh—was hoping you’d like it,” he says, his words almost too casual, but there's an undeniable edge of something else in his tone. “Hoped I’d… get it right”

A little part of you wants to tease him about the obvious effort he’s put into remembering the details. But instead, your gaze lingers on the way his hand wraps around the cup, how the motion seems both effortless and deliberate at the same time. You lean against your desk, trying to steady the playful flutter in your stomach. “You remembered,” you say, a hint of amusement dancing on your lips. “I’m impressed, Rem. Not many people can be bothered to, something so trivial.”

“It’s not trivial to me,” he replies, his voice soft but steady, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you like a secret only the two of you share. His eyes don’t leave yours, and for the briefest moment, you catch yourself holding your breath.

You shift a little, feeling suddenly aware of the space between you and the quiet hum of your own thoughts. It's not the first time you’ve felt this way with him—the strange mix of comfort and something a little more, something unfamiliar but not unwelcome. The soft chuckle he gives in response to your teasing is charming, but now there’s an underlying warmth to it, as though he’s saying something more without actually saying it at all.

“Well, I’ll admit, I don’t mind being remembered,” you say, your tone playful but careful, like you’re testing the waters of something unspoken. You lift your coffee to your lips again, feeling the heat from the cup seep into your hands as you let the rich flavor settle on your tongue.

Remus smiles like you’ve given him some kind of gift, and not the other way around. Nervousness flickers over his face and he shifts on his feet before opening his mouth to speak.

“Listen, I was wondering if–”

Before he can get the words out, the bell rings signalling the start of the day and students start to filter through the halls. The sudden rush of noise from the hall is like a cold splash of water, yanking both of you back into the reality of the school day. The moment, that strange, quiet tension, dissipates almost instantly as students shuffle past your door, chattering and laughing, already lost in the rhythms of their own lives.

You glance at the clock, then at Remus. He blinks, a little dazed, as if momentarily unsure of where he was, and for a split second, you wonder if he was going to say something important—something that might have broken the fragile bubble between you.

"Well," he says, clearing his throat and straightening up, "looks like we’ve got a class to teach." His voice is a little lighter now, almost self-effacing, but the slight flush on his cheeks betrays his earlier hesitation. He gives you a smile, warm and genuine, and takes a step back toward the door. "I’ll, uh, let you get ready. You can thank me later for the coffee. Maybe after class?" There's that hint of playfulness again, but it’s more relaxed now, like he’s letting the moment go with a smile and a soft shrug, but not without a flicker of something deeper hiding behind his eyes.

You nod, feeling that inexplicable pull in your chest once again, as if you’re being drawn into a current you can’t quite name. "I’ll hold you to that," you say, meeting his gaze with a grin, teasing but with just enough sincerity to make him linger a moment longer.

You watch him as he turns toward the door, only to be met by one of your students, who’s just arrived for the first period. As Remus disappears down the hall, the ginger-haired boy glances back at you with a knowing look.

“You and Mr. Lupin, huh?” It’s less of a question and more of an assumption, and the words make your cheeks burn with unexpected heat.

"Sit down and get your notes out, please," you say, trying to sound authoritative, but the command comes out more like a suggestion. You're still grappling with your thoughts, the smile you can't quite shake playing at the corners of your lips.

The student grins, clearly amused. "Only—"

"Sit. Down."

#flo'sfics #marauders au #marauders fics #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin

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circlebuttons · 11 months ago

Text

Rafe on Love Island

- this is a throw away rant because of how obsessed i am w love island us rn. I feel like Rafe would be a mix of leah and rob with a bit of caine for rule breaking.

You get coupled with Rafe in love island on the very first night. When all the guys walked in your eyes were on him immediately, he's taller and broader than everyone else in his sharp grey suit with his white button down being unbuttoned just a tad. The closer he gets you notice that his eyes are already locked on you. His eye contact makes your heart race and the cherry on top is the sly smirk that creeps up on his face when you lean over to the two girls you already befriended in such a short time and quietly inform them that, "Buzzcut is mine." He scoffs out a silent laugh on account of you never look away from him once or block your lips from being able to be read. You're the first person he introduces himself too, holding your hand firmly and probably for a bit too long.

He sits on the couch facing you and during the icebreaker questions you learn that Rafe Cameron is a man who's lived a lot of lives but is now a certified businessman, looking to find his first ever stable relationship. The most important thing you learn is that your feelings of attraction are mutual when he pulls a card that reads "Kiss the islander who you think is a gold digger"

His eyes immediately land you and he clarifies to everyone that he's picking you not because he thinks your a gold digger, but because he'd rather have you be his sugar baby, it's all about perspective at the end of the day.

"You can take all my money" he mumbles before kissing you gently at first with a coy hand on your neck, but you're the one to deepen it and he follows your lead immediately before you break apart, softly saying, "Nice to meet you" while using your finger to wipe the rouge lip combo that you both are now wearing.

There's no doubt in your mind when picking Rafe to couple up with. After the coupling Rafe is on your heels following you like a puppy to an area of couches where you're meant to get to know each other a bit better before sharing a bed. There he asks a lot more questions about yourself, hanging onto every word that leaves your mouth. You eventually leave to go get ready for bed and he reluctantly separates from you, being the first one under the covers laying awake with bright eyes when you climb in on the other side of him. "Courtesy pillow?" he asks looking at you cautiously. "Not unless you need it, I'll behave for the first night" you smirk at him before turning to your side and getting comfortable and little do you know how long he stares at the ceiling replaying every event from today, avoiding reminiscing on the kiss to avoid becoming too worked up, but worked up nonetheless because he feels insane for falling for a girl this fast into the game.

That morning Rafe wakes up with a smile on his face for the first time in ages and he wakes up like that everyday in the villa because no matter what it's always you. He's nothing short of obsessed with you, just as much as you are him, but the two of you being head over heels doesn't make for good tv until Rafe starts playing more defensively. The first male bombshells that get added to the villa get nothing but glares from him as they get way to comfortable with you in the games and attempt to pull you for chats while you're literally right next to him. Production had made it clear that it was off limits to physically fight, so Rafe had to settle for pulling in other guys for secret "chats" instead where he'd just loom over them and make sure it was understood you were happy being coupled with him.

Production would have to step in again to remind rafe that it was also against the rules to hinder filming in anyway meaning saying blunt no's when another girl tries to pull him or turning his head when the objective of a game is to kiss. It unexpectedly makes better tv when Rafe starts his malicious compliance as he sits either blank or stank faced and awkwardly silent in one on one chats with girls who insist on talking with him and in challenges the cameras capture the disgusted tight lipped faces he makes when he's forced to kiss someone else. You feel the same way he does, you're a bit more complacent with production and don't mind participating. It bothers Rafe sure, but at the end of the day it fuels him seeing you kiss another islander and knowing that he's ten times better than any of these guys will ever be. You and Rafe discussed that you have to do what you have to do for tv, but outside of mini games there was to be exclusivity. Exclusive is a word you use a lot, waiting until the outside to be a real couple.

Although what you don't wait for is having sex in the villa after finding out all the guys left for casa amor. Hearing that Rafe was the only guy to refuse not only made you proud, but surprisingly horny too. Making out at night or even grinding on each other wasn't foreign to either one of you, it's when your hand drifts into Rafe's waistband that he shoots up to flip you under him, eager to finally have all of you. After that night the two of you sneak around fucking like absolute bunnies. You protest weakly every time he starts kissing on your neck, knowing what's about to to happen, mumbling "Fuck me, my moms watching" before you the two of you duck under covers and have the best sex of your lives.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafecameronxloveislandreader #obx!loveisland #loveisland!rafe

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h3rmess · 4 months ago

Text

WHO'S YOUR FRIEND?

Written by @h3rmess ✰

17) - Set up

You make it to the meeting place with 10 minutes to spare. The plan was to meet at a nearby park, do introductions, and then go to a restaurant. You send a message to the “Karasu fan club” group chat, hoping and waiting for a response. You stand there, staring at your phone as you wait awkwardly. It was a warmer day today, so a purple babydoll top, a blue bolero and a matching blue skirt was perfect for the weather, as suggested by Chigiri. He even went as far as to put a purple flower pin in your hair. You really owed him.

You check your hair in your camera one more time before deciding to check tik tok, just to make the time go faster. You scroll mindlessly, occasionally smiling at the funny videos or comments you see. That’s when you feel someone barge into you, almost making you lose your footing. You put your phone into your bag and look up, ready to ask this person what’s wrong with them. They stand next to you, hands in pockets, looking away.

“Hey, what was that for? You could at least say excuse me.” You’re irritated by their lack of care.

“My bad, beautiful. Can I make it up to ya?” Your heart skips a beat at his voice, his accent instantly making you realise what’s happening.

You’re lost for words. He turns to look at you with a grin. Your mouth is open.

“Hi…” Is all you manage to squeak out.

“Hello.” He replies.

“How did you know it was me?” You ask, shocked that he was able to recognise you from the back of your head.

“Ya think I wouldn’t know?” He questions back.

You stand in stunned silence as he chuckles lightly.

“I’m kidding. You sent yer location to the group, remember? Just had to make sure it was you.” He explains, making you feel stupid.

“Right…” You try to laugh it off.

You look up at him again, this time fully taking in his appearance. He’s wearing a black polo shirt and black pants, a gorgeous silver watch accompanying his outfit. Not to mention the glimmering loafers that elevate his look. His face is even more perfect than what you had seen online. His mole was the centrepiece of it all.

“You’re staring…” He tells you, making you look away nervously.

“Sorry…” You take out your phone, still seeing no new messages. “The others are taking kinda long, huh?”

Karasu checks the time on his watch and you swear you black out for a second because of how hot the action is. “Hmm, yeah. Let’s give em some time, maybe they’re all comin’ together.”

You nod in agreement, attempting to keep the conversation flowing. You both tell each other more about yourselves, talking about experiences you have had with your mutual friends.

After a while, you realise it’s been 30 minutes and no one has showed up. You decide to send another message to Reo, Nagi and Chigiri.

prev | masterlist | next

-> PLOT TWIST??

-> had to make sure to deliver this chapter today or ALL OF US would’ve passed out from suspense

-> how many references is bro gonna make?

TAGLIST

@yzzxo @karasusrealwife @appl3-0rchard @cyberheartrebel @sugacor3 @misosoupii @shittyclarineted @lilsebnem @90s-belladonna @blueballslock @pookalicious-hq @vextyyx @lizbix @sindulgent666 @yeshiioo @literallyushiwaka @kaidostwin @x3nafix @kxtsukixoxo @mivqko @judithregulus @mo072806 @kaikaidenkai @midnight-drives-with-sunarin @definitelynotanalien @local-s1mp @karasu4life @ohagiyo @arwawawa2 @chuurinnie @morgyyyyyyy @elliehenry24 @megumismyhusband @5-laska @reooreo @r1o0nly @zinasdiary @tired-child00 @kyutiipie @tecchouss @cookiesandcreammy @i3beingcuntyyyy

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noyasmashing · 1 year ago

Note

Current fave idea is the karasuno gang meeting up after they graduate to catch up, and there's a person there none of them recognize(Sugas younger sister by like a year) and one of them (noya, tsukki, tanaka, kageyama... tsukki.. I'm bias lol) catches her eye, and suddenly, they're back at her apartment crying out for her

OML I love when i get specific requests they r so fun to write 🙈

Sub!Tsukkishema x Fem!Reader

CW: Alcohol usage, cryin, overstimulation??, objectification, nasty (unprotected) pnv sex, chocking (mention of it at the end), kinda sadistic reader tbh, bondage, foodjob??

The old Karasuno team was gathering at their previous haunt, the local ramen shop near their high school. It had been a while since they'd all been together, and they decided to meet up, along with some other mutual friends from back in the day. As they chatted excitedly about their lives post-graduation, reminiscing about their volleyball days, there was someone among them they couldn't quite place.

Nishinoya, ever observant, noticed a young woman sitting quietly at the edge of their group. She was sipping her ramen and listening intently to their stories, occasionally smiling or nodding along. "Hey guys," Nishinoya interrupted, "Who's our new friend here?"

They all turned to look at her. "Oh, I'm Koshi’s younger sister," she replied with a warm smile. "I heard so much about all of you from my brother. It's nice to finally meet you!"

Nishinoya's eyes widened in surprise. "Suga's sister? Wow, I didn't even know he had a sister!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah, I'm a year younger than him," she explained, her hand circling the tip of her glass, the alcohol bringing the rosiness out of her cheeks.

Tsuki gazed at the girl seated in-front of him. Truth be told he didn’t really notice her until Nishinoya had said something, but he couldn't help but be intrigued. This girl had a familiar spark about her—maybe it was her smile, or the way she listened so attentively. She seemed to share Suga's kindness and warmth.

Throughout the evening, Tsuki found himself stealing glances at her. he didn’t know what it was, maybe her easy going demeanor, or her smile when she giggled at one of Hinatas dumb jokes. He wasn’t used to looking at someone and not wanting to immediately insult them.

As the night progressed, Tsukki discovered himself engaging in more and more conversation with her. Normally not one to talk much, he was content listening to her stories from high school, her interests, and more.

They hadn’t noticed the time passing until others started saying their farewells and leaving the venue. Amidst the commotion of the crowd, Tsukki momentarily took his eyes off her, and just like that, she vanished. He anxiously scanned the dining room, navigating through the sea of people in search of her.

It was safe to say he was hooked. He wanted nothing more but to be in her presence, and he was starting to give up on that idea, as he spotted Sugawara leaving too. Then, as luck would have it, he turned his head one last time and caught her gaze, smirking up at him through her lashes.

She was tucked away towards the back of the shop near the bathrooms, chatting with Nishinoya, casually leaning against the wall.

"Bye, [name]!" Nishinoya exclaimed, before skipping away in his usual hyper manner. She smiled warmly in response, giving him a lazy wave goodbye.

As Tsukki timidly approached her, he noticed a mischievous smirk on her lips. "Were you looking for me, like a little lost puppy?" she teased, tilting her head to the side with confidence.

His cheeks burned embarrassingly red as he shook his head and muttered a quiet “fuck you." He knew she was right, but he couldn't summon the courage to defend himself properly, especially when she stood up and closed the gap between the two. He could feel the warmth of her breath, tinged with the scent of alcohol, and he could almost feel her breasts press against him.

Avoiding her gaze, he looked away, attempting to maintain his usual stoic expression.

"You're all bark and no bite," she grinned again, grabbing his face to make him meet her gaze. His glasses were perched low on his nose, and he peered at her over them, his breath catching in his throat. The only thing on his mind was how good she looked up close.

She grinned at his hesitation, “I have an uber outside, would you like to come home with me, pretty boy?”

And that’s how Tsukishima found himself in this predicament, kneeling with his very own tie binding his hands.

He grumbled in frustration as he attempted to free his hands from the tie once again. He wanted to appear irritated, not willing to admit the reason why his dick was pressing against his pants at that moment.

But, when she leaned down and planted her foot, encased in sheer stockings, against his groin, he could no longer hide it. His lower lip quivered as a whimper escaped him, his hips instinctively moving to press against her foot.

She sneered at him, increasing the pressure as she spoke, "You will take what I give you, understand?" Her previously kind and gentle demeanor was completely replaced by a more intense and commanding presence. Tears welled up in his eyes as he nodded weakly, trying to maintain his composure in the face of her dominance.

She started to glide her foot up and down the length of his pulsating erection. He could feel the sticky mess seeping into his boxers, the urge to remove them growing stronger by the second.

He couldn't help but utter a desperate "please," a plea that earned him a sadistic smile from her.

"Please what, pretty boy?" She teased, her movements becoming more deliberate against his crotch. He felt his entire body heating up as he craved more stimulation. This was unlike anything he had experienced before, and he was on the brink of making a mess in his dress pants.

He took a deep breath before nervously replying, "Can't you use a little more..." his voice trailed off, unable to meet her gaze. He could feel her seductive eyes fixed solely on him, but he couldn't summon the courage to look at her, knowing that if he did, he might climax right then and there.

"Hmm... We wouldn't want you spoiling those nice pants now, would we?" She questioned, tilting her head slightly with a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

He finally mustered the courage to look up at her and replied with a shaky, "Y-yeah," his eyes reflecting a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

“Why don’t you join me up here then?” She suggested, patting the bed where she sat, a warm invitation in her voice and smile.

He stood up shakily, his hands still bound behind his back, but before he could even take a seat, she pushed him onto his back with a forceful yet gentle motion.

“Be a good toy and let me use you a bit,” she instructed this time, her hands deftly moving towards his zipper with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

With swift movements, his aching member was now free, proudly displayed on his toned stomach. He couldn't help but let out a gasp at the sensation, feeling a rush of embarrassment as she gazed at him with interest.

"A-are you surprised?" he quipped, trying to sound confident even with a blush covering his ears. But she saw through his facade in an instant, especially when his tip was leaking pre-cum, giving away his nervous excitement like a virgin eager for his first fuck.

She sneered at his comment, biting back without hesitation, "Good toys stay quiet for their owner."

His head fell back in utter embarrassment at her sharp retort. Embarrassed at how his cock twitched she said that. Embarrassed that the second her pussy grazed his sensitive member, his hands instinctively pulled at the tie, his back arching in a desperate, pathetic display of need.

As his cock sank into her wet pussy, he let out the prettiest of moans, feeling a surge of pleasure as his eyes rolled back uncontrollably. Her hips rolled forward against him, causing his member to throb with intense arousal. He couldn't resist raising his hips, wanting to be buried as deeply inside her as possible, lost in the blissful sensation.

It didn't help that every time she raised her hips, just to aggressively slam them down, she whispered filthy things in his ears. Her words sent shivers down his spine and added a delicious layer pleasure to every sensation.

"Cummin'," he would slur, as she rode him through his body-shaking orgasm, but she never stopped. He wanted desperately to caress her soft skin, to cover his mouth to muffle the embarrassing whispers escaping him, but she would giggle at his struggles against the restraints. The sensation of her teasing laughter only added to his pleasure, driving him further into a frenzy of ecstasy as she continued to ride him with relentless abandon.

"Such a good... good toy for me," she panted between breaths, continuing to fuck herself on his raging cock. The natural curve in it, plus the sheer thickness of him, was just too perfect.

She brought two fingers to his lips and clumsily pushed them inside, his tongue swirling desperately around them, seeking distraction from the overwhelming sensations. But her fingers were gone too soon, leaving him wanting more as she pulled them away and pressed them against her sensitive clit. The sight of her pleasuring herself with the very fingers that had been inside him moments before was too much for him.

The sound of her gasps of pleasure as she pleasured herself was torture for him, even though he was still buried deep inside her. He yearned to be the one touching her, driving her wild with desire himself. The sight of her lost in her own pleasure, eliciting those intoxicating sounds from deep within her throat, fueled the fire of desire burning within him. He couldn't help but let out a string of whines, the need to touch her, to bring her to the edge overwhelming his senses.

He had likely cum at least twice, doing everything in his power to muffle his moans, even resorting to biting his lip until it bled. But she did not stop for a second, her relentless pace and intensity driving him wild with desire. The pleasure and the pain mingled together, making hot tears roll down his cheeks.

It seemed his tears only fulled her desire, as her hands made their way to his neck. “You would look so pretty with my hands around your throat.”

It became clear that this night was going to be longer than either of them had expected.

#sub haikyuu #dom reader #haikyu x reader #sub!character #dom!reader #sub character #haikyu smut #haikyu x you #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima smut #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima kei #tsukishima fluff #kei tsukishima #hq tsukishima #hq tsukki

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stayinlimbo · 1 year ago

Text

We Become We

pairing: husband!lee minho x reader genre/warnings: friends to lovers, marriage of convenience, fluff, poor attempts at me trying to be funny, mc's gender is not specified word count: 1.02k note: i am not dead yay. i tried my best since i haven't had time to write for almost a month so please take this as a peace offering ♡

Marriage. It’s an interesting concept, isn’t it?

You’ve always thought so, at least. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc.

Yours happens to be a man named Lee Minho. The same man you’ve been friends with for as long as you can remember. The same man who asked you to marry him for a reason you didn’t get to learn until he was already down on one knee.

(“I’m sorry, you want me to WHAT?” “Marry me. Please, I need health insurance.”

“Okay, yes, sure, whatever; now please get off the floor. People are staring.”)

Lee Minho, who, after dragging you to the courthouse and legally becoming your husband, finally elaborated on how his job would pay him more and cover both of your health insurances if he was married. So really, in his words, he was “doing you a huge favor” by marrying you.

And, in all honesty, he really was. No, you didn’t have a ring to show off your new husband’s weird skill at finding loopholes in company policy, and you’re like thirty-five percent sure the two of you are committing some kind of marriage fraud, but does it really matter when you can finally start using the hot water in your dingy apartment without worrying if you’ll have enough money to fund your crippling caffeine addiction? The government will have to drag you kicking and screaming before you resort back to mankind’s cruelest form of torture: cold showers.

Not to mention that marriage didn’t even change your relationship with Minho. And why would it? You’re still you, and he’s still him. He gets on your nerves just the same, maybe even a little bit more after he decided to frame your marriage certificate in his living room and send a photo to all your mutual friends. You’ll never forgive Minho for laughing at your helplessly panicked state when the group chat wouldn’t stop exploding with messages and incessant calls.

You’re still his best friend that resides in his apartment four out of seven days of the week while he inhabits yours for the other three. Maybe that’s why, two weeks after your “wedding,” when it was time to renew your lease, Minho suggested with a simple shrug of his shoulders that you move in with him since “you’re here all the time anyway.”

You’ve really got to learn how to say no to him because now you wake up next to your best friend/roommate/husband in his one bedroom, one bathroom apartment at the crack of dawn with a light pressure on your chest and fur in your face when his cats decide you need to wake up right now to feed them.

Not to say you don’t like the new arrangement! No, that would be the furthest from the truth.

Sure, you didn’t appreciate your skin care routine being interrupted by the unexpectedly high-pitched scream Minho let out when he saw you in a face mask for the first time, and what kind of person still has their phone’s brightness turned up all the way before bed? But who else would willingly tolerate your deliriousness before your morning coffee or indulge in your pleas to cook your favorite food three days in a row?

Living with Minho has only made the purely platonic feelings you harbor for him grow stronger.

That’s what the fluttering in your chest means every time you see him, right? The reason for the smile that grows on your face when you hear the distinct jingling of keys at the front door?

Yeah, that must be why heat spread across your cheeks when he handed you his phone to text one of his friends back, because since when did the heart emoji make an appearance next to your pinned contact name?

You just care about each other, that’s all. It’s normal to want to make sure he arrived at work safely and ask how his day is going during your lunch breaks. It’s normal to start receiving back hugs before bed—a comforting weight as Minho’s chin rests on your shoulder while you apply the rest of the products to your face.

It’s natural to have doubts about the nature of your relationship during an evening walk, acutely aware of his fingers lightly brushing against yours as you silently study his features illuminated by the soft glow of the scattered streetlights. What if he meets someone else and falls in love with them and wants a divorce and– oh.

Has he always looked at you like that? With his gaze softening as it locks with yours? With the corners of lips lifting into the gentlest smile you’ve ever seen? With all the stars shining above you finding a second home in his eyes? A look so loving that it takes your breath away and you can’t tell if you’re about to laugh or cry in relief.

And when you return home to get ready for bed, the familiar feeling of hands wrapping around your waist and a careful pressure resting by the crook of your neck quells the remnants of your worries.

It’s you and Minho. Minho and you, just as it always has been. Just as it’s always meant to be.

The distance between your bodies on the bed becomes nonexistent when you curl yourself into his side, laying your head on his shoulder and intertwining your legs with his as he immediately, unhesitantly, adjusts his arm, his fingertips finding purchase on exposed skin and roaming across the span of your back. A kiss to the top of your head is the last thing you feel before the gentle lull of breathing and the rise and fall of his chest begin to soothe you to sleep.

…

Ah, marriage—what an interesting concept. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc.

You love your husband, and you’re beginning to think he loves you too.

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn

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emmylksblog · 1 year ago

Note

could do one where the reader and hector fort are friends with benefits and the reader is jealous but soon after he reveals his feelings and asks her to date

(English is not my first language, I hope you understand) love your write 💕

BEYOND THE BENEFITS PT. 1 // H.FORT

summary: Hector and you have been friends with benefits for some time now, but you begin to feel jealous when Hector starts spending time with other girls. But one night, at Marc's party everything takes a turn.

content: friends with benefits! , angst

warnings: none i think, just a little fight

words: 1171

a/n: i think i deviated a little from the original request but i hope you like it! also, i think i fell in love with marc guiu halfway, ups

Recently, you had begun to realize that your feelings for Hector had deepened into something more serious. You found yourself more and more jealous whenever another girl paid attention to him, and it was consuming you.

To make matters worse, Hector seemed to be pulling away, giving you less of his attention. This only fueled your overthinking and insecurities, making you feel like he was losing interest in you. You were constantly wondering what you did wrong and why he was becoming distant.

You made a difficult decision - you would figure out Hector's feelings for you at the party. If he didn't feel the same way, you had resolved to end your friendship, even though it would hurt deeply since you were friends before becoming friends with benefits.

The party was held by your mutual friend Marc Guiu, and as you entered, you spotted Hector across the room, chatting with a small group.

You deliberately slow down your pace, making sure not to approach Hector too quickly. Between conversations, you grab a drink and chat with other people at the party.

You keep an eye on Hector from across the room, waiting for an opportunity to talk to him alone. Finally, you spot him standing by himself, sipping a drink. This is your chance.

As you were about to approach Hector, you noticed one of the girls who had a crush on him - she had been shooting dagger eyes in your direction all night. She pretends to stumble and "accidentally" bumps into you, spilling her drink all over the front of your dress.

The girl doesn't leave you the opportunity to react and smirks leaning close to your ear.

"You really think Hector is interested in you?" she says in a low voice. "He's just using you for sex. You're nothing but a convenient distraction. He'll drop you as soon as he gets bored."

Despite your attempts to not let her words get to you, a seed of doubt has been planted in your mind. You force a smile, trying to remain composed.

"How do you know that?" you ask, feigning nonchalance. "Hector and I are friends. We've known each other for a long time."

The girl smirks, relishing in your discomfort. "Oh please," she rolls her eyes. "Everyone knows Hector's reputation. He doesn't commit to anyone, and trust me, you're no different."

As the girl's words sink in and the truth of Hector's reputation settles in your soul, tears well up in your eyes, but you stubbornly hold them back. Just then, Hector appears, followed by Marc, looking concerned.

Hector stops short when he sees the stain on your dress and the tears in your eyes. "Hey, what happened?" he asks, his voice laced with worry. And you can't help but only think about how his concern might be just an act as she said.

He glances at the girl who had spilled the drink on you before looking back at you, concern etched on his features. Marc, ever the peacemaker, attempts to diffuse the situation. "Everything alright here?" he asks, looking between you, Hector, and the girl.

Hector looks at you, his eyes fixed on the stain on your dress. "Are you okay?" he asks, his voice soft. "I saw what happened. That girl was just being a..." He trails off, searching for the right words.

The stress and emotional weight of the evening finally get to you, and you reach your breaking point. You turn to Hector not letting him finish what he was about to say, your voice breaking slightly as you confront him.

"Were you just using me? Is it true that i'm just a toy that you'll toss aside when you get bored? Do I hold any importance to you at all?"

You're so focused on getting an answer that you don't notice that your conversation has become the center of attention for some of Hector's teammates.

Hector's hesitation and the silence that followed your question were all you needed to leave him by all means. Your heart breaks into a million pieces, and without another word, you turn on your heel and head for the door, tears streaming down your face.

Marc, who had silently observed the scene, sends a sharp glare at Hector before quickly following you, trying to catch up with your quick strides.

"¡Oye, espera!" ("Hey, wait!") Marc calls out, trying to get your attention.

He follows you out of the party, worried about the state you're in. "¿Estás bien? ("Hey, are you alright?") he asks, grabbing your arm gently to slow you down.

You shake your head, still reeling from the conversation with Hector. The tears are now falling freely, and you feel like your world has just collapsed.

"No," you manage to choke out, your voice wobbly. "I'm not alright."

Marc's face softens, and he wraps his arm around your shoulders, trying to comfort you.

"Come on," he says gently. "Let's go someplace quiet where we can talk. You shouldn't be alone right now."

Marc has always been aware of Hector's feelings for you. He has seen how his friend looks at you, how he cares for you, and how he constantly seeks your attention. Everyone around you seems to know except you.

Marc's heart aches as he watches you cry, knowing that Hector has caused you so much pain by not recognizing his own feelings and instead complicating your friendship. He remembers the days when you three were inseparable, and he wished things had remained innocent.

Marc obliges, wordlessly embracing you and letting you cry into his shoulder. He gently rubs your back, trying to calm you down.

Meanwhile, Hector is standing a few feet away, watching the scene unfold. He had followed you and Marc outside, desperate to talk to you, but stumbled upon the sight of you in Marc's arms. Misinterpreting the situation, Hector assumes that there is something more between you and his friend.

His face darkens as he witnesses the affectionate gesture between you and Marc. A pang of jealousy and anger shoots through him, but he stands there frozen, trying to make sense of what he's seeing.

His mind starts to spin with doubts and insecurities. "Is this why she's been so distant lately?” he wonders. "Has she been spending time with Marc behind my back?"

It suddenly hits him that you were just friends with benefits. He had no claim over you, and you were free to date anyone you wanted.

Regret washes over him as he realizes that he should have made his feelings clear earlier before it was too late. He imagines you and Marc together, happy and in love, and the thought pains him, and a surge of hate towards his childhood friend Marc surfaces subconciously.

TO BE CONTINUED...

part 2!

#friend with benefits #hector fort #hector fort x reader #hector fort x you #marc guiu #marc guiu x reader #pablo gavi x reader #fc barcelona x reader #fcb x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer x reader

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shuamorollss · 2 years ago

Text

Café Amnesia — l.sm x f!reader

— When your insane crush on Lee Seokmin hits a curb when he yells out the wrong name for your order whilst having your name written perfectly fine on your cup.

How the hell was he able to fuck your name up so badly?

On purpose? Obviously. Why? You simply don't know.

romcom, mutual pining, cafe au with a pinch of univ, strangers2friends2lovers warnings/notes— They're both whipped for each other(Seokmin mostly), there's a whole segment of reader suffering from period cramps, uhmm I'll add more :> 1.7k wc TEASER . Estimated full wc: 10k-12k + reblogs are greatly appreciated!

tags— @jangwonie @jungwonize @luhvlyuna @w3bqrl @ineedaherosavemeenow @leaderwon @writingmeraki

"Girl, take your chance. He's right there taking orders!" Im Nayeon encouraged as the both of you took a step inside the bittersweet aromatic premises.

Oh yes, this very Café, not only were you a regular customer here, you were also known by your friends to be limping hearts for someone around these ambient walls.

Strangers might say, Oh, this person must really love the coffee here.

Although your friends would definitely say, Oh, he just loves the coffee made by brew. A code name your friends have made to pertain to him.

The very ‘brew’ on the counter, taking orders with his usual sweet smile.

Lee Seokmin.

Oh that man, how could you ever describe him?

Seokmin’s a family friend, you usually see him outside Café territory. Even visiting your home multiple times just to have a chat with your family. Crazy how a guy so cute and so close to your age is more talkative with the likes of your aunts and uncles.

You have always noticed his presence even before he started working in your favorite Café, though you only developed ominous worries by the time he started working there.

There was something about his mere presence that irks you a certain way, never in a bad way, quite unsure in a good way.

How would he have this effect on you so suddenly?

It doesn't make sense.

You only view him discerningly from your balcony as he laughs with your mom at the gate. He’s a peculiar guy, who only visits your home to greet anyone but the people his age.

You didn't care about it, you didn't even ponder any further with his visits, you weren't as much bothered with his bond with your relatives… So why do you feel the opposite of the things just mentioned now?

"Uhm, Y/N?" a voice echoed, shaking you through your thoughts.

…

"Huh? "

You blinked out of your rainbow towered thoughts, checking the very man standing in front of you with an intense gaze.

Everything felt sudden, you were just giggling with Nayeon earlier at the back of the line and now you're… here.

"Your order please?" He repeats, raising his brow as his eyes fixed on you, patiently waiting for your response.

As much as you wanted to, you couldn't take a look at his face for longer than 2 seconds. You didn't want to become a blushing, stuttering mess in front of him, you had to erase such humiliation as this has probably happened to many times within his view.

You take a good look at the menu for a short while, subtly attempting to compose yourself. Then back to looking into his eyes with a determined smile.

"Ah— Uhm… Two iced caffe latte please." you spoke out, you eyes averting away after you realized you might be looking at him for a bit too long.

"Size?" He questioned.

"Both grande."

“Alright, name?” He asks, leaving you slightly dumber and might be dumbest since you were so so sure he had mentioned your name before, the name you own, the name he lets out to escape you from the unrealistic wonders of your mind.

Well, you guess he had to do it for the professional setting.

“Y/N.” You answered with a warm smile.

He nodded, starting to scribble your name on both cups.

You stared at him for a brief second before darting your eyes out of his figure again. It was an awkward, unnecessary feat you have, however you feel a pinch of guilt for staring at him for too long… You didn't think you would have a chance anyway, or would even notice your gaze fixated on him for an uncomfortable amount of time.

You were great with eye contact, you swore that to life.

Now it’s just different in front of him.

The transaction ended smoothly, thankfully, he gave out your remaining change and you turned around leaving with a wide grin that seemed stuck on your face for the next few minutes.

Nayeon notices your change of demeanor, mirroring your subtle excitement as your footsteps approach her figure.

“So, how did it go?!” She slowly squealed, her bunny teeth entirely evident as her emotions seemed to be ecstatic at yours.

“It went good,” You answer with the same wide grin. “It went with the usual order but this time, he asked for my name.”

Nayeon’s smile immediately falters at your answer, her reaction unsatisfied.

“Y/N, that's… he does that to everyone, it’s his job.” She deadpans.

“No no no, I mean. I was like— thinking about something you know?— I was in deep thought, and then Seok— I mean him, Brew, called me by my name and that took me out of my trance,” You paused, earning back your composure. “Then all of a sudden, he just asks me for my name when he was about to write it on the cup? Like, isn't that weird?! He called me before, with the perfect pronunciation of my name, and then asks about it afterwards?”

Nayeon’s reaction did make any sort of change, yet here you are, at the verge of squealing at the half-assed interaction she had ever heard.

Though, to be fair, she had heard more shit stains than this.

“Darling, Y/N, I'm sorry, but, you just have to get better than that..?” Her tone rose unsurely, you could tell she wasn't atoned with the happening, well, it wasn't supposed to be squealed about. You couldn't admit it to her but, it was indeed a boring interaction.

As much as you were extremely down bad for the man, you couldn't act upon it. Why would you? He’s so out of your reach. He wouldn't even look at you in the eyes, never even greeted you when you were at home, and not even bothered to have your parents introduce him to you.

So why would you try and befriend him if the hints are obviously at plain sight that your parents don't want him for you.

Gahh?! What is wrong with me?! you argue along with your conscience. This case seriously needs to be studied for the reason that this regression did not go unnoticed by you. You had a chance to talk to him before but now it just seems too far of a run to be able to reach.

As you and Nayeon remain seated, patiently waiting for your order while she voices out her stress about the upcoming midterm exams, a certain voice echoes throughout the area.

A name kept being called.

Twice, thrice, you don't even know how to word it out the fourth time and so on.

It was embarrassing how this man, Seokmin, was honking a name no one responds to in such a quiet auranescent place. Almost everyone in the Café gave their shares of baffled looks at Seokmin’s way, you gave your shares of it also, until Seokmin’s gaze points at you.

The drink on his hands reached out to your direction, mouthing the words to what seems to be “you.”

Nayeon catches onto this quickly and nudges you out of your seat, so you could reach the drinks on what you assumed to be yours and Nayeon’s, which in fact right now, you were still unsure of.

You make your way awkwardly towards the man, your eyes circling around the Café, releasing a breath of relief at the realization that the customers had gone back to their personal businesses, although the embarrassing flush still creeps into you as you step closer and closer to the counter.

“You, yes you.” Seokmin lets out with a sigh of relief you swore you just did a few seconds back.

“Here's your order, I’ve been calling out for you for 4 years.” He jokes, a bit weak but it was tolerable. He’s handing the two lattes you ordered, still dumbfounded at the fact this was your order.

But he said your name wrong

extremely wrong. unpleasantly wrong. absolutely wrong.

It wasn't even close to your name at all— it's just wrong.

You never felt so embarrassingly offended in your life.

The way he says that too casually, audaciously loud, couldn't even set you off to the right track. You still think he's getting the wrong person to give this order to.

But it was the correct order, the one you recited to him.

He knew you, that's for sure, but how— wha?—

“Oh, thanks.” You say dryly, grabbing your order and walking away with a forced smile. Not even bothering to correct him, just because.

You examine the drink, still unsure if this was actually what you ordered (Which it really is), then turning it to the other side of the cup to read your name,

perfectly spelled.

Which bombards your thoughts with even more questions.

How was he able to fuck your name up so badly?

On purpose? Obviously. Why? You simply don't know.

You went back to the gracious face from Nayeon holding her laugh.

“Well, that's what I call an interaction.” She welled, leaning back onto her seat with a squeaky laugh.

You were quite embarrassed by the whole situation, yet a gush of butterflies lingered in your stomach shooting to the realization that Seokmin had joked with you.

It was unusual, but you’d be content with it at best.

Nayeon repeats the name Seokmin kept calling out a few minutes back, which somehow became unbearable coming from her.

You slide her drink with a clear frown, aggressively sitting on your seat without laying a single look at your friend.

“Oh come on, Y/N, you know I'm just kidding..— woah.” Her eyes widened as her eyes lays at the name spelt on her drink. You could tell the element of surprise creeping up into her whole being as she tries to piece things together.

“Y/N, your name is spelled correctly here?”

You roll your eyes, “Wow, I didn't even notice.” You reply with evidently toned grouchiness.

She gives you the same wide eyes yet the edges of her lips begin to perk up.

You know where she's getting at.

“Y/N! Do you know what this means?!”

You lock your gaze at her, waiting to continue her words.

“He yelled and butchered your name on purpose!” She says ecstatically.

Yeah, you have already established that.

#k-labels #seokmin x reader #dk x reader #lee seokmin x reader #seventeen x reader #svt fluff #seokmin fluff #lee seokmin fluff #seventeen fluff #svt x reader #svt #seventeen #lee seokmin #dokyeom #dokyeom x reader #dokyeom x reader dluff

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bigtreefest · 10 months ago

Text

Pour Clueless Babes

Pairing: Bartender! Curtis Everett x Reader

Summary: unbeknownst to you both, you and the broody bartender can’t help your want to be around each other

Word count: 1,751

Content/warnings: swears?, slight objectification and misogyny, attempts at hiding feelings, alcohol consumption, teasing from friends, a hint of idiots in love?, a small mention of Curtis’s rooftop herb garden, it’s mostly fluff and mutual pining

A/N: written for Siri’s Birthday Bonenanza!! Love you, babes, and happy birthday. @stargazingfangirl18

Comments, likes, reblogs, and asks are so appreciated. Thank you for reading!!

Prompts: Babe is in love and cranky about it + Character A is frustrated at how fucking oblivious Character B is to their advances + “I’m sure you could talk me into saying ‘yes’ to whatever you want.”

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist

“You just need to buck up and ask her out.”

Curtis rolled his eyes at his friend sitting in a lawn chair across from him in the rooftop garden, pairing it with a scoff before he took another sip of his beer.

“It’s not that easy, dude.”

Ari, Curtis’s longtime friend, co-owner and often co-bartender of the main dive in town shifted in his seat with a raised brow and tilt of the head. “Sure it is! You’re hot, and from the way you talk about her, so is she. I don’t see what could go wrong.”

Curtis grumbled and finished off his bottle, grabbing another from the bucket of ice and uncapping it. “A lot. A lot could go wrong, Ari. I don’t want a quick fuck and I sure as hell don’t have girls throwing themselves at me like you do on Friday nights.”

Ari scoffed, but had no rebuttal, it was true. Women flocked to Ari’s side of the bar, always creating a crowd where the regulars couldn’t get served. So Curtis took them, while Ari could be caught slinging dozens of fruity drinks for all the flirts who constantly mentioned how strong and attentive he was. The only reason Curtis didn’t complain was because they split tips, Ari getting several banknotes marked with phone numbers and salacious messages, and Curtis getting the peace of the calmer drinkers.

Sure, a woman here and there would come to Curtis for a drink, figuring Ari wasn’t worth the wait and the shoulder bumping, but that was few and far between. Until you.

From the moment he watched you walk through the door, he kept an eye on your searching gaze, smiling when you saw your friends, but making a beeline for him before you went and sat.

The next time you came up to him, though, Curtis made sure your drink was on the house. Anything for the pretty girl who smiled at him. Chose him. And was much more enjoyable than his grumbling regulars.

Curtis was pulled out of this thoughts by Ari’s groan.

“Listen, I don’t think women throw themselves at me…”

Curtis looked at his friend with disbelief at the blatant lie.

“…that much. Not that much, I was gonna finish, jeez. Plus, what’s it matter, it’s not like I take them home…usually. Sloppy drunk isn’t cute and too many of them just keep coming back until I cut them off. No one has chatted me up like they want a date instead of in my pants because all I get are googly eyes, but this sounds different for you. She sounds good.”

Curtis sighed and wiped a hand over his beard. Ari was right. You were good. Probably too good for him. Plus, it’s not like you even noticed any move he tried to put on you. You were probably just being nice, not flirty. You probably didn’t even notice the free drinks using special ingredients made from the garden, the rare smile he’s never given another customer. It was kind of infuriating that he was so ready to give himself over to you and you had no idea just how deep it ran. How it affected him and stayed on his mind even in the off hours. Guys had to be throwing themselves at you, and he was just another one to add on to the bottom of the list.

“Yeah, yeah, I just…I don’t wanna mess it up, ya know? Am I even ready for this? Why now? Why do I have to feel something now? And I don’t even know if she feels the same way!”

Ari only offered a shrug.

“I don’t know, man. When it’s time, it’s time.”

That’s all he gave. Curtis groaned and wiped a hand down his face, rubbing back and forth over his beard once again. “Yeah….it’s just…ugh. I can’t think of anything else. I’ve got all these plans for bar improvement. The herb garden is finally coming in nicely and I was gonna meet with those brunch people from the city to talk about expanding our offerings beyond the few ideas I’ve come up with, but I can’t focus on a goddamn thing other than her.”

Curtis was almost mad it was affecting him so much—that he looked forward to seeing you. Yearned to make you another drink, hold conversation just a second longer. Nothing had ever stuck to his mind this much.

Ari only laughed as he looked over the edge of the roof at the town where the two had grown up. Over all that time, he had never seen his buddy this torn up.

Pulling two more drinks out of the bucket, he uncapped them and handed one to his friend.

“Well, here’s hoping you get this all sorted out. And by that, I mean, get your big boy pants on, fully admit your feelings, and ask her out.”

Curtis groaned and threw a hand over his eyes while his best friend simply smirked, knowing he was right.

It was Friday night and you were hanging out with some of your friends at the bar you had been frequenting lately. Everyone around you was in deep conversation, but you were lost, zoned out, with your mind on only one thing: that gruff bartender.

You had already been up to see him three times this evening, insisting to be the one to get the next rounds for the table in hopes of garnering his attention.

You felt successful. Maybe? Every time you went up to him, his full attention was on you. And it looked like he was smiling, right? Well, no, he probably did that with everyone. Except…in the several times you had caught yourself staring at him, he never once made that same face at another customer. So it had to mean something, didn’t it?

You felt your shoulder shaking, pulling you out of your thoughts and blinked back into consciousness.

“What? What?” You shook your head and looked back at your group of friends.

Alana sitting next to you rolled her eyes with a laugh. “Your drink has been sitting empty for a minute, girl. We’re just surprised you haven’t gone back to the broody bartender, yet! Jenna said she dropped by and all she got was a scowl when she asked for green tea shots, but we see the way he looks at you. Think you could score us some good shots?”

You scoffed and leaned back in your seat, trying to deny what you felt, but didn’t necessarily see. “Oh please, I’m sure he doesn’t even notice me!”

The three girls across from you exchanged a glance before Jenna shook her head. “Um, wrong. One hundred percent wrong. I’m pretty sure you’re all he notices and he’s the same for you. Can’t believe you two are so blind to each other. You keep going up to him and you’re up to a total of what? Half a dozen free drinks over a few visits at this point?”

Everyone around you shared the same knowing glance and you were ready to concede. You couldn’t help the way your heart started beating faster with anticipation of going up to him again, but the alcohol flowing through your body, finally settling in, was enough to override any last ounce insecurity you had. You just wanted to be close to him that badly again, despite his apparent disdain for fancy shots. It was worth a try, though, so you sighed and nodded and stood up, saving your brain power so you could say something coherent to the beautifully beastly bartender.

As you steadied yourself in your shoes, the alcohol hit a little harder, but you weren’t going to stop now. As you began your steps across the wooden floor, your eyes locked with the man with the dark beard and buzz cut and watched as his deft hands slid another beer across the counter at a regular.

You waltzed up to the varnished bar and drummed your fingers on the edge as you looked up at the head between a towering pair of broad shoulders. If you’d have known better, you’d have said he was almost beaming at you.

“Hey sweet thing, what can I get you?”

A tingle went down your spine at that. You would’ve claimed it was the alcohol, if you hadn’t known that it usually numbed you instead of set your body alight. The bartender, who you’d come to know as Curtis, usually wasn’t that outright with the pet names. From what you had seen so far, he was pretty reserved. Something had changed tonight, though, and you couldn’t complain about that, so you threw it back.

“Well, handsome, I’m really sorry to ask this, but would you be willing to make me four green tea shots? I’m sorry if it’s a lot to ask…”

From your side, you heard a snicker, and your eyes found an older gentleman, likely one of the bar regulars. Curtis’s gaze had darted to him, too, except his eyes were stern. The gentleman knew that Curtis wasn’t usually one to make drinks with more than a couple steps, and especially not on more than one occasion in a night unless it was for someone pretty exceptional. And you seemed like both of those things. Curtis simply cleared his throat to regain your attention and pulled out the glasses before finding what he needed.

“Well lucky for you, I’m sure you could talk me into saying ‘yes’ to whatever you want.” He winked as he expertly tipped the bottles.

A blush crept up your cheeks along with the one the liquor had put there. You were gone enough on his behavior and your last few drinks that there wasn’t much to hold you back anymore before you blurted, “Does that include dinner with me next Thursday?”

Curtis stopped in his tracks, slamming the bottles down on the counter with a loud thud that startled you. His face was almost unreadable. Sure, before tonight, you felt like he may not have seemed interested, but in your small chats over drink orders throughout this evening, that changed. You didn’t read this wrong, did you?

You watched intently as his gaze which was fixed on the worn wooden table shifted upward to look at you through his eyelashes. Those gorgeous, long eyelashes. A true, genuine smile was on his lips. He had no idea you felt the same way as him. “Yeah. I think it does.”

Bonus A/N: bartender!Curtis will return in the second part of this, and we’ll see much more about his herb garden and secret treats for his girl. This is the first thing I’ve written in months, so cut me some slack, okay, but I’d love your feedback in all forms.

Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly

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training4theapocalypse · 6 months ago

Text

Sweet (Cormac McLaggen x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 15.5k

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, friends to lovers, mutual pining, confessions, GOOEY ROMANCE, Christmas 🎄

Summary: You try to ignore your feelings for your best friend, Cormac McLaggen. Reader and Cormac are both 18+.

A/N: A Christmas fic! The Sabrina Carpenter-fication of Gryffindor Common Room. I know everyone hates Cormac but my full-time job is actually fixing him (lets not look into what that says about me okay thanks). I wrote this for @cinderellasmissingshoes but it's been so long she's deactivated (RIP girl). Also, it turns out, anything can be a one-shot if you just post it all at once!!!! And nobody can stop you!!!!!

Masterlist

Chapter text:

The Gryffindor Common Room is a riot of gold and red, as laughter and music fill the room. Even though Quidditch has never been your thing, a team win is always a good excuse to get swept up in the celebration. You’re dressed the part, of course, with a red bow in your hair and wearing a borrowed, oversized Gryffindor training jumper that by a happy coincidence makes the gloss on your lips pop.

The victory has everyone riding high, but as much as you’re enjoying the party, you can't help feeling a little tug of concern for one person. You’re at Katie Bell’s side, amongst the throng of her teammates happily celebrating as the rest of the party-goers chant Ron Weasley’s name but your eyes search the crowd for a certain someone. You excuse yourself - Katie will be fine without you for a few minutes.

Cormac McLaggen hasn’t been at all himself lately. And while Katie is adamant that she considers this to be an improvement, his newfound reservation is just plain weird. Katie told you to stop worrying about Cormac, that he was probably just sulking over not being chosen as Keeper for the Quidditch team this year and that he should just lighten up. And you’d probably agree if the change hadn’t been so drastic - usually so confident, even arrogant at times, he’s been acting almost shy lately.

Cormac’s tall, broad figure and golden halo of curly hair are easy to spot from the other side of the room. He’s half-heartedly chatting with Dean Thomas, who, like Cormac, is still nursing the sting of not making the team.

“Cheer up, boys!” you call. Dean still looks sullen but Cormac's entire demeanour shifts when he grins at you skillfully weaving through the crowd towards them without spilling the two butterbeers in your hands. “Anyone would think we’d lost to Slytherin if they saw your faces,” you joke, slipping into the tight space next to him.

"Well, we wouldn't have let so many in if I'd -" starts Cormac.

"If you'd have been chosen as Keeper," you finish. His many complaints about Harry Potter's chosen team are easy to memorise and rhyme off back to him. "I know. I know. But we won, right?"

“Since when did you refer to the team as ‘we’?” teases Cormac, accepting the bottle you thrust into his hands. “Big Quidditch fan now are you?”

You smooth down the jumper you’re wearing, so oversized that the hem of it sits just above your skirt. “Well, if I’d known I’d look this cute in the team merch, I might have taken an interest sooner.”

“I don’t care how cute you look, I want it back.”

He flashes a smile and you can’t ignore the flurry of butterflies you feel.

“Oh, come on. We both know it looks better on me,” you shoot back, enjoying the fun of prying a compliment from him.

Cormac presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek, considering you, before finally concluding, “Debatable.”

You both laugh and you feel a warm sense of satisfaction that your attempt to take his mind off his exclusion from the team is working.

“Oldest trick in the book, mate. Don’t fall for it,” Dean interjects with a knowing smile, snapping Cormac’s attention away from you. You almost forgot Dean was there.

“What’s the oldest trick in the book?” asks Cormac.

“Everyone knows if you give your girlfriend your clothes, they’re hers for good. You’re never getting them back.”

You and Cormac look at each other awkwardly. The flirtatious banter suddenly feels much more complicated by Dean’s assumption.

Because Cormac is not your boyfriend.

In fact, in the run-up to Yule Ball several years ago, he made it crystal clear that he wasn’t into you like that.

Cormac opens his mouth to reply but you spare him the necessity of correcting Dean and hurting your feelings.

“Oh, we’re not going out,” you blurt before he can. “I was cold when we were watching the game and Cormac was just being nice.” Dean’s sceptical eyebrow rises, flicking between you and Cormac. Attributing the sudden flush in your cheeks to the heat of the room, rather than embarrassment, you say, “Actually, I don’t need this anymore now that we’re inside - here hold this.” You hand Cormac your butterbeer and start pulling off the jumper.

“No, look, you don’t have to -” Cormac starts, but you’re already tugging the woollen fabric off over your head. The scent of him - clean, with just a hint of his woody aftershave - floods your senses, making your heart twist painfully in your chest at its sudden absence.

You toss your hair back and hastily fix yourself.

“Here -” you say, taking the butterbeer back and replacing it with his jumper.

“Thanks,” Cormac mutters, but there’s a hint of annoyance as he does. He takes the jumper before throwing a look at Dean.

“Katie’s probably looking for me,” you announce, needing to put some distance between you and this now-too-complicated situation. You turn on your heel, attempting to slip back into the midst of things with your usual grace, but there’s a slight stumble in your step - barely noticeable, but enough to rattle you.

As you make your way over to Katie, you’re distracted by a sudden onslaught of whooping and cheering. Through a gap in the crowd, you see Ron Weasley and Lavender Brown unreservedly snogging.

That’s odd, you think. You could have sworn he was going out with -

The portrait hole opens and you spot a flash of bushy brown hair exiting the Common Room.

A hand grabs your arm. “Sweet!” The familiar nickname that you’ve never quite been able to shake off - not that you mind it - there are certainly worse things to be called. “There you are!” says Katie, her eyes sparkling with post-victory excitement.

“Did you just see -?”

Katie rolls her eyes. “The giant squid impression in the middle of the room? Yup.”

“Do you think we should see if Hermione is alright?” you ask, looking back over to the portrait hole.

“Harry’s already on it,” Katie says, nodding toward the door where Harry disappears after Hermione. “C’mon, I need another butterbeer.”

As you follow her, it’s not long before Katie brings up her favourite subject of late - Professor Slughorn’s Christmas party in a few weeks. Neither of you made Slughorn’s elite list of attendees so the only way you’ll get invited is if someone asks you. As much as you’d love the opportunity to get dressed to the nines, you could do without the drama. If the Yule Ball taught you anything, school dances inevitably lead to heartbreak.

“I don’t even want to go, anyway,” you insist. “See - this is a party. Slughorn’s will be so dry. I mean, there’ll be more teachers and Ministry bigwigs than students.”

“You know, if Cormac weren’t going, I’d suggest throwing our own party on the same night. But we couldn’t do that to him...” A mischievous smile dawns on her face. “Or could we?”

You hesitate but Katie presses on.

“I bet he’d forget all about Slughorn if you told him we were having a party.”

“You really think Cormac would miss a chance to cosy up to old Sluggy?”

When the two of you make it to the drinks table, she leans in conspiratorially close, lowering her voice just enough to be heard over the noise. “What I mean is, maybe he’d ditch Slughorn’s Party if you asked him to.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” you dismiss the idea quickly, not quite meeting her eyes. “If Cormac was interested in going to a party with me, he’d have asked me to Slughorn’s. I shouldn’t have to plan my own just to - ”

To what?

Go out with him?

You cut yourself off, but Katie’s sharp eyes catch yours. The noise of the party swells around you, enough to disguise her prying.

“What’s going on with you two, anyway?”

The question catches you off guard. Truthfully, nothing is going on between you and Cormac McLaggen.

Well, not nothing on your part.

Even if you disregarded the way your eyes sought out Cormac’s reaction whenever you styled your hair differently, or how you sometimes overanalysed his extra-tight friendly hugs that lingered a bit too long, there was no denying you were - at the very least - best friends.

And that was the problem. You were friends. Nothing more. No matter how much you wanted it to be otherwise.

In the run-up to the Yule Ball two years ago, you overheard Cormac firmly assuring Oliver Wood that he did not find you attractive. Like, at all.

You remember you were waiting on Katie finishing Quidditch practice in the courtyard, sitting behind the fountain in your usual meeting spot when you heard Oliver and Cormac at the other side of the fountain talking about the Gryffindor Team. You didn’t even lift your head from doodling on some parchment - the last thing you wanted to do was be dragged into a conversation about Quidditch.

Then the conversation drifted, from tactics to Quidditch team succession planning when Oliver left Hogwarts the following year and then, your ears pricked up when they started talking about the Yule Ball.

“I can put in a good word with Angelina about making you Keeper next year if you do me a solid,” Oliver said before lowering his voice. “Think you could ask if your mate is interested in going to the Yule Ball with me?” Oliver had asked. Your peacock feather quill paused as you sat up straight and held your breath.

There was a pause.

“Yeah, I’m sure Katie would be up for that,” Cormac said eventually, his voice steady in reply.

“Not Katie. Team dynamics would get messy,” he said seriously. “The other one. Sweetie or something.”

The other one. Cormac had two best friends.

That could only mean you.

“Oh,” Another pause, shorter this time, like Cormac was searching for the right words. “Are you sure you want to go with Sweet?”

The way Cormac said your nickname so incredulously made your stomach drop.

“I’m not stepping on your toes, am I?” laughed Oliver.

You leaned forward discreetly, peering around the side of the fountain to see Cormac shifting uncomfortably as he deliberated on his next words.

“No, nothing like that. She’s… alright, I guess. Decent looking. But, not really my type. She’s kind of annoying, y’know? Pretty full of herself. A bit of an airhead, actually.”

You remember feeling a sting of embarrassment, sharp enough to make your eyes water as Cormac listed off all your supposed shortcomings. But you blinked it away, hurriedly gathering your things and forgetting your plans to meet Katie before they could notice you had been there the whole time.

At the time it hurt so badly. Because back then you had such a thing for him. How couldn’t you? Cormac McLaggen was the quintessential golden boy - tall, handsome, athletic - exactly your type on paper. Even if you weren’t his, apparently. And not only did he not want to date you, but he actually found the idea so repulsive that he was trying to put Oliver off you too.

In the end, Cormac’s disapproval didn’t deter Oliver. Even though Cormac reneged on his promise and never mentioned that Oliver was interested in you, Oliver still asked you to the Yule Ball without Cormac’s intervention. And you said yes, relieved that at least Cormac’s poor recommendation hadn’t dissuaded him. In fact, you got on so well at the Yule Ball, that you dated for a few months. Until he dumped you when he left school. But, you supposed, that was boys for you.

And it affected you. Between Cormac McLaggen’s lukewarm feelings towards you and Oliver Wood dumping you, you swore off the idea of dating anyone.

It was easy to forget about Oliver when he left school. You gradually became friendly with Cormac again - you might even call him your best friend, aside from Katie, of course.

But you always kept your guard up around boys, never quite forgetting the sting of either incident.

“So, you wouldn’t go to Slughorn’s Christmas Party if he asked you?” Katie probes, bringing you back to the present.

Even though you trust Katie more than anyone, you’ve never told her about your feelings for Cormac or the utterly humiliating reason that you’ve never pursued them.

He’s just not into you.

“We’re friends. That’s all. And that’s the end of this conversation.”

Katie sighs. “Okay, okay, I get it.” She spins around to the empty drinks table. “How have we gone through six crates of butterbeer already?” She groans. “Do you wanna come to the kitchens and get more?”

“I’ll go, you stay here,” you say and she immediately begins protesting but you ignore her. “Listen, this is a party for your team. You should stay.”

She hesitates before spotting Cormac across the room.

“Why don’t you go to the kitchens with -”

“If you mention Cormac one more time, I’ll lose my mind,” you warn her. “I can handle a trip to the kitchens alone. I won’t be long.”

Katie laughs, holding her hands up in mock surrender.

“Okay, Sweet. I don’t know what’s got you so sour.”

You roll your eyes and ignore her comment. As you walk towards the portrait hole, you glance at Cormac and realise he’s already looking at you. You pretend not to notice like you’re scanning the room for someone else, before disappearing through the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later, as you walk back up towards Gryffindor tower, a few crates of butterbeer (that the house elves were extremely eager to bestow upon you) clink behind as they follow you, levitating in the air.

The cool, empty castle offers little comfort. You left the Common Room to clear your head, but all you’ve found since you left the kitchens are your own thoughts, swirling endlessly as you walk.

If Cormac wanted to ask you to Slughorn’s party, he would have done it by now. You’re not getting your hopes up again. And besides, why would he need to wait for a party to ask you out? If his feelings for you had changed since the Yule Ball, he could have told you at any point.

She’s kind of annoying, y’know? Pretty full of herself. A bit of an airhead, actually.

Harsh criticism. Not entirely untrue. It’s not like you’re clever. And sure, you take pride in your appearance, but until you heard him say that, you didn’t think it bothered anyone. Especially not him. If you had to criticise Cormac, you’d probably say he was full of himself too. And as far as intelligence goes, it’s not like he’s the quickest broom in the shed either.

As you turn it over, replaying scenarios in your head that you haven’t revisited in a long time - most notably, ones where Cormac didn’t talk badly about you behind your back - you walk straight into someone hunched over their knees at the bottom of the spiral staircase.

“Oh, sorry! Wait - Hermione?” you ask. The bushy-haired sixth-year looks up and hastily wipes her eyes. “Are you okay? Where’s Harry?”

Hermione swallows hard and nods, though her red-rimmed eyes betray her. “I told him to go back to the party. There’s no reason for both of us to miss it. I’m fine. Really. It’s silly.”

“You don’t look fine,” you say gently, sitting down beside her on the cold stone steps. After a pause, you add, “I saw Ron and Lavender.”

Hermione’s breath hitches, and she quickly looks away, blinking back tears. “I—I feel so ridiculous. I already asked him to Slughorn’s party, and now he’s… I should have known.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “You’re not the ridiculous one here. Honestly, I think these stupid formal events should be banned.”

Hermione lets out a half-laugh, half-sob - a wet, spluttering sound - but you catch the faintest glimmer of a smile, and you feel a small surge of relief. At least you’ve distracted her for a moment.

“I’m serious,” you insist, leaning back against the wall. “They’re more trouble than they’re worth.”

Hermione sniffles, wiping at her eyes again. “Maybe. But it doesn’t make me feel any less foolish.”

“It’s not foolish,” you say firmly, the butterbeer crates you were levitating now drifting to the ground beside you. “And to tell you the truth, I know exactly how it feels to have your heart broken at one of these things.”

She looks up at you, her eyes wide with surprise. “You do?”

You nod slowly, thinking back to your own past. “Yep. And besides, Hermione, you’ve handled worse than this. You stared down Umbridge, for Merlin’s sake. This? This is nothing compared to her.”

Hermione lets out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “It doesn’t feel like nothing,” she says quietly. “In fact, it feels… it feels worse.”

“I know,” you admit softly. “And I know it probably feels like you’ll never get over it. Like it’ll never stop hurting. But trust me - if I can get through it, you can too.”

She looks at you earnestly, her brow furrowing. “How?” she asks, her voice small but full of curiosity. “How did you get over it?”

The answer isn’t easy, and the truth is harder still. Convincing others - and yourself - that you’re perfectly fine, even when you’re not, is something you unfortunately have experience with.

You push yourself to your feet, brushing off your skirt and forcing a small smile. “By acting completely unbothered,” you say, trying to sound casual, even though the irony stings. After all, here you are, still trying to bury your feelings for Cormac McLaggen.

“We’re gonna go back to the Common Room and make it look like you don’t have a care in the world,” you say as you extend a hand to help her to her feet which she accepts. “And tomorrow we’ll find someone else for you to go to Slughorn’s party with. Someone better than Ron Weasley.”

“Who?”

Perhaps this is your chance to help Hermione and bury your feelings for Cormac in one fell swoop. Maybe, just maybe, if she went to Slughorn’s party with him, it’d help you finally put Cormac - and the lingering ‘what could have been’ - behind you too.

If he was going out with someone else, you could draw a line under all this and move on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following Monday, Hogwarts students arrive in the Great Hall to find a winter wonderland. A whirlwind of snowflakes dances over the enchanted ceiling past icicle-adorned rafters. Enormous Christmas trees - decked in baubles the size of bludgers - flank the room. The usual breakfast smells of toast, bacon, and pumpkin juice mix with the scent of pine and cinnamon, giving everything a festive buzz.

But Cormac barely notices any of it.

Sitting at the Gryffindor table, Cormac stabs the fried egg on his plate, watching it ooze onto the rest of his breakfast like it might help him decide how to do what he was about to do next. Oliver Wood used to joke that Cormac had the appetite of a Graphorn, but lately, he hasn’t been feeling hungry. His mind is completely elsewhere.

He’s going to ask you. To Slughorn’s Party. Today.

You and Cormac have History of Magic classes together on Monday afternoons, just the two of you away from the rest of your friends. A rare moment alone. You’re always surrounded by people - constantly laughing, flipping your hair in a way that makes his insides flip, and you seem completely oblivious to how nervous he’s become around you lately.

“Can you stop murdering that egg?” asks Katie, jolting him out of his daze and glancing at his half-destroyed breakfast. “It’s making me queasy. That’s the last thing I need before we feed raw meat to Thestrals.”

“Sorry,” mutters Cormac, setting his fork down, though the uneasy knot in his stomach isn’t going anywhere.

Katie studies him for a second. “What’s up with you? You’ve usually asked me if Ron’s playing worse than you at least three times before the bell rings.” She’s grinning, but Cormac just shrugs.

“It’s not that,” he mumbles.

Katie raises an eyebrow. “Then what?”

Before he can answer, you appear, slipping onto the bench beside him with Hermione Granger in tow. You’re wearing a bright red and gold bow with your hair in that half-up, half-down style that he knows takes you forever to do. It’s probably why you’re late - as usual.

“Morning!” you chirp, grabbing a piece of toast off his plate without asking, your fingers brushing his for a second. The contact sends a jolt through him, but you’re completely unaware. “What’s with you two?” you ask, noticing the odd expressions on their faces. “You look like you’ve seen a Dementor.”

“Not Dementors,” blurts Cormac, the excuse coming easily, thanks to Katie’s reminder. “Thestrals.”

“Ugh,” you say, wrinkling your nose. “Rather you than me. Are you doing the N.E.W.T. in Care of Magical Creatures, Hermione?”

Hermione shakes her head. “I’d have loved to but I had too many other subjects this year.”

“Yeah, right. You’re only saying that because you’re friends with Hagrid.” Hermione smiles sheepishly. “It wouldn’t be too bad if we got to learn about nice creatures -” you start but Katie cuts you off.

“Well, life isn’t all Puffskeins and Unicorns,” she says, pointing forked sausage at you. “The creatures we’re dealing with are much more interesting.”

“That’s just another way of saying ‘ugly’,” you laugh, tossing your hair over your shoulder. In the process, the bow at the crown of your head slips off and drops to the floor. You don’t even notice.

Cormac does.

“And it’s dangerous too,” you continue. “Remember when your poor arm was burned by those Blast-Ended Skrewts, Cormac?”

“Sweet, you dropped this,” he says, quickly leaning down to retrieve the bow before anyone else can.

You reach up, feeling the spot where the bow was. “Oh, thanks.”

“Let me,” Cormac offers, his heart pounding as he tries not to mess this up. He leans in close, and the noise of the Great Hall fades into white noise. It’s just the two of you, and all he can think about is how soft your hair feels between his fingers.

“It’s kind of tricky,” you murmur, glancing up at him.

“I’ve got it.”

“You sure?” you ask, looking up at him in a way that makes his stomach lurch again.

“Easy,” he says, more confidently now as he finishes clipping it into place. “Like putting an angel on top of a Christmas Tree.”

You laugh, and the sound makes his heart race all over again. He quickly turns back to the table, trying to pretend that wasn’t at all nerve-wracking. But Katie’s already watching, her shrewd look making it clear she hasn’t missed a thing.

“So,” Cormac says quickly, desperate to change the subject, “What’s everyone doing for the holidays? Assuming no one’s mad enough to stay here?”

“Nope,” says Hermione brightly. “I’m going home to visit my parents.”

“Yeah, same here,” says Katie. “If you ask me it can’t come soon enough.”

“Tell me about it. I can’t wait to go home. My Uncle’s been invited to Minister’s house for Christmas lunch and -”

“You’re going so you can suck up to Rufus Scrimgeor?” asks Katie.

“Well, it has its perks. But mostly it’s because I haven’t seen my Uncle in ages. Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” says Cormac. And, he thinks, maybe his Uncle won’t tease him for being single again this year if he can convince you to go to Slughorn’s party with him.

“We’re getting ahead of ourselves here. We’ve got more pressing things going on before Christmas, Cormac,” you say. “Or have you forgotten about Slughorn’s party?”

The fork he’s holding clatters onto his plate. “I… er, no, I haven’t forgotten,” he stammers, his face burning as he tries to sound casual.

“So… have you asked anyone yet?”

Your voice is light, casual, but Cormac’s pulse quickens. Is this… actually happening? Well, it certainly makes things easier. He swallows, trying to steady himself.

“Not yet,” he starts, the words feel unfamiliarly shaky. He’s normally so self-assured that he hardly recognises his own voice. But you’re already cutting him off, oblivious to his growing panic.

“Well, I was thinking, if you’re not already going with someone…” You shift slightly, glancing between Hermione and Katie before landing back on him. His heart leaps. Are you about to ask him? But when you finish, your words douse his hopes like ice water. “...maybe you and Hermione could go together?”

“Yeah, I’d - wait - what?” Cormac’s voice cracks, the sound of his own disbelief ringing in his ears. He glances at you, searching for any hint of a joke, any sign that you’re teasing him - but you’re smiling, unaware of the storm you’ve just unleashed in his chest. Didn’t you realise how much nerve he had built up, how many times he had rehearsed this in his mind?

You don’t even realise you’re wrecking him - it’s just another Monday morning to you. Meanwhile, he feels like he’s accidentally tumbled down one of the castle’s trick steps.

“Oh,” Hermione says, clearly flustered. “I don’t - er - I mean, that’s really not necessary,” she adds, casting an awkward glance at Cormac, her cheeks reddening slightly.

“No, listen,” you insist in a low voice, glancing at the end of the table where Ron Weasley and Lavender Brown are engaged in some more intense snogging. “It’s perfect. Neither of you is going with anyone, right?”

The bell rings and everyone in the hall starts moving, getting ready to leave for the first class of the day.

“It’s win-win. This would annoy Ron the most,” you say.

“What’s he got to do with this?” asks Cormac.

“Long story short, Ron’s ditched Hermione for Lavender. And since you were so clearly better than him at Quidditch tryouts, I thought if she went with you it would piss him off.”

Cormac pauses, momentarily stunned. “...You thought I was better than him?”

“Well, yeah. Obviously. The only reason you weren’t picked is because of that last penalty. It was like you were confunded or something”

There’s a thud as Hermione unexpectedly knocks her bag from her seat and it spills open.

“Really?” asks Cormac as you both get off the bench to crouch on the floor and help Hermione pick up her things.

“Yeah, everyone knows that you’re much more talented at - wait, Hermione are you okay?”

The two of you look at Hermione when you notice she’s turned white as a sheet.

“I’m fine,” she squeaks.

“You sure?” you ask and reach out to grab a fallen book. You accidentally touch Cormac’s hand as he reaches for it too and the touch sends another jolt through him. “And it works out for you too, Cormac,” you continue. “Maybe if Ron is distracted by the two of you going out, he’ll play badly enough to get kicked off the team.”

Katie tuts but Cormac has to admit that you’ve got a point. But he can’t put his feelings for you aside because of Quidditch. Not again. Not after the Yule Ball fiasco.

You press the book into Hermione’s hands. “Look, just think about it, alright? I’ve got to go - I’m gonna be late for Muggle Studies.”

“I’m going that way too,” says Hermione quickly, stuffing her book into her bag and not looking at Cormac.

And so, with a swish of red and gold, you and Hermione leave Cormac feeling like he’s just been hit by a bludger,

It wasn’t as if Hermione wasn’t good-looking. Everyone knew she was smart, pretty - she even used to date Viktor Krum. But she wasn’t… well, you.

So why couldn’t he just say it?

He walks beside Katie, silently replaying what he should have said in his head, so clearly as if watching it through omnioculars.

“Cormac, do you have a date for Slughorn’s party?”

“Well, actually, I was thinking about asking you.”

He avoids Katie’s gaze, instead busying himself with pulling on a scarf and hat, bracing himself for the freezing cold of the castle grounds.

Feeding Thestrals feels like a much less daunting endeavour than unpicking this mess he’s gotten himself into.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, the Gryffindor Common Room is almost deserted. It’s well past midnight, and the only sounds are the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of turning pages. As Seventh Year N.E.W.T. students, you, Cormac, and Katie have become accustomed to being the last ones awake, studying long after everyone else has gone to bed. When the clock chimes one, even Hermione bids you all goodnight before heading upstairs to her dormitory.

“So… any thoughts about my idea earlier?” you ask, trying to sound suitably impartial, and not at all conscious of the way you and Cormac keep sinking towards each other on the plush sofa and brushing arms. “You know, going to Slughorn’s with Hermione on Saturday?”

Cormac glances at the staircase leading up to the girl’s dormitory. “I dunno…”

Katie says nothing as the grandfather clock ticks ominously. Instead, she and Cormac exchange a look - one that you can’t quite decipher.

“Well, I think you’d be a good match,” you say, just to break the awkward silence.

“Yeah, well, Hermione’s not really who you want to go with, is she Cormac?”

Your eyes fly up, looking between them.

Cormac shifts in his seat, eyes on his copy of A History of Magic. "She’s nice enough."

"That’s not what I asked," Katie presses.

Cormac looks at her seriously. “Stop.”

Katie shrugs, leans back in her armchair and flips through her book.

So, Cormac has someone else in mind for Slughorn’s Party. And he feels comfortable enough to make Katie privy to it. But not you.

Great.

So not only does he not fancy you, he doesn’t even trust you enough to confide in. And you thought you were best friends.

For some reason, that hurts almost as much as when you overheard him telling Oliver Wood that he wasn’t interested in you.

You don’t know what to say anymore, so you look down at your book again.

It doesn’t take long for the words in A History of Magic to blur together on the page, as you read and reread the same passage, trying to remember the names of the loyalists from the 19th-century goblin rebellion. The plush velvet of the sofa feels impossibly soft and warm, and the heat from the fire seeps into your bones, lulling you into a deep, drowsy comfort. Your eyes droop heavily as you sink deeper into the cushions, your body slowly surrendering to exhaustion.

You lazily glance at Cormac’s open textbook, hoping he’s made better progress. He’s supposed to be reading the same chapter, but instead, he and Katie are talking softly about their holiday plans. Katie is debating asking her parents for a new pair of gloves after snagging hers during Care of Magical Creatures. Cormac is once again trying to brag about his Uncle taking him to the Minister for Magic’s house on Christmas Eve without sounding like he’s bragging.

The sounds of your two best friends in quiet earnestness make you feel safe and comfortable - so comfortable that you don’t even realise you’ve dozed off, leaning on Cormac’s shoulder.

That is until Katie closes her book with a loud snap.

“Right, this is useless. I’m heading to bed,” she declares.

Her voice startles you slightly, but you’re too tired to fully wake. You consider opening your eyes and lifting your head but it feels like too much effort.

Five more minutes, you think. Just five more minutes in this comfortable position and you’ll make the long journey up the winding staircase to bed.

“I’ll go to bed soon,” Cormac says, his voice lower now, quieter. “I’m still reading. And I don’t want to wake Sweet”

You’re not entirely asleep, but not fully awake either - just hovering in that cosy in-between. His voice rumbles softly in his chest and the warmth of his shoulder feels solid, familiar. You could stay like this forever.

Your eyes remain closed, and you feel yourself falling asleep again listening to the sound of the merrily cracking fireplace and Katie’s footsteps retreating up the carpeted stairs.

And then you feel a small shift.

Cormac turns his head, pressing his lips against the top of your head and inhaling deeply, somewhere between kissing you gently and breathing you in.

Your eyes flutter open, the haze of sleep fading as you realise what’s just happened.

Did he just… kiss you?

You look up. Cormac freezes as your tired eyes meet his alarmed, green ones. He opens his mouth - maybe to apologise - but whatever he was about to say disapparates when you look from his eyes, to his parted lips then back to his eyes again.

He just stares at you, his breath held, searching your face for some kind of response.

You don’t say anything.

For a second you’re not sure what to do.

But then you just give the tiniest nod as your heart thuds in your chest.

He leans in, his breath is warm on your face. The clean, woody scent of his aftershave tingles your senses - it’s even better than when it lingered on his borrowed jumper. You close your eyes as he moves tentatively towards you.

Then the thundering of footsteps as Katie runs back downstairs makes the two of you break apart hastily.

“Forgot my quill,” she announces. “Oh, are you coming up to bed, then?”

You swallow, your heart hammering. “Yeah,” you say, fixing your skirt and getting to your feet. “Sorry, must’ve dozed off.” You hastily grab your book,

“Yeah, same,” Cormac says, his voice strained. He clears his throat, gathering his things in a flurry of movement. “I think I must have too. For a couple of seconds.”

You glance at him but he doesn’t look at you as he gathers his things, his focus entirely on shoving them into his bag.

You follow Katie up the stairs, your heart still racing as you try to make sense of what just happened. But did it happen? Or were you (like you’ve done more times than you’d ever admit) dreaming about Cormac?

Soon after, you lie in the dark, staring at the hangings of your four-poster bed.

Cormac said he thought he had fallen asleep. You had been so drowsy that now you couldn’t be sure if he had actually kissed the top of your head. Maybe he just rested his head on yours? Or maybe you dreamt it, woke up and immediately tried to kiss him.

It’s a mortifying thought - that one minute Cormac had been asleep and the next he had woken up to find you practically ready to pounce on him.

No wonder he looked like a deer caught in the wandlight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the boy’s dormitory, Cormac has similar thoughts.

You were asleep. And you caught him smelling your hair. Kissing the top of your head. Now that he’s removed from the situation, he cringes - hard, realising that it was extremely weird.

Together with Katie’s obnoxious hinting that he really wanted to go to Slughorn’s party with you must have made you uncomfortable. Because you didn’t even look at him. So either your feelings towards him are so platonic that you hadn’t realised he was interested in you or you were choosing to ignore Katie’s comments altogether.

But he swears there had been a moment. A split second downstairs when your eyes met his, and he really thought you wanted him to kiss you. He can still feel your fingers brushing his chest, how you looked at him like you were waiting for him to close the gap between you.

And he almost had.

Almost.

Then Katie had barged in, and you’d jumped away like you couldn’t get far enough, fast enough. Like you’d realised how ridiculous it was - how ridiculous he was.

He clenches his jaw, turning over in bed. You were probably horrified.

He groans, burying his face in his pillow.

There was a moment, wasn’t there?

Maybe he’d imagined how you looked at him. Maybe the exhaustion from studying had gotten to him, and now, his mind was just playing tricks on him.

But then again… maybe it hadn’t.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You spent the majority of the rest of the week avoiding Cormac.

You’ve even been staying in the library with Hermione every night just to avoid Katie after she kept asking pointed questions about what happened after she left the Gryffindor Common Room the other night. Hermione is glad of the company - over the past few days, you’ve been talking a lot. Mostly to keep her mind off of Ron Weasley. And without her realising it, it’s been a great help in stopping your mind wandering to Cormac McLaggen.

Being surrounded by dusty books and writing an essay about plug sockets for Muggle Studies, isn’t exactly conducive to imagining yourself back in the Gryffindor Common Room, cuddled up with Cormac, seeing his face inches from yours, wondering whether or not he was about to kiss you.

But now it’s Saturday morning and tonight is the night you’ve been trying not to think about: Slughorn’s Party.

You’re going to go to Hogsmeade to take your mind off of things. It’s one of your favourite places in the world - especially this time of year. Steamy pub windows, cobblestone streets dusted in white, smugly ordering Firewhisky in front of younger pupils.

It’s just what you need to distract you from Cormac.

At least he’s not coming with you. Studying, he said. Although you think he might just be as keen to avoid you as you are to avoid him

But there’s no avoiding Katie forever, you think, as you and Hermione walk into the Great Hall for breakfast. As if reading your mind, Katie, who is already almost finished breakfast, waves you over and you have no choice but to sit with her and a few of the sixth years.

“Wait - are you sure you want to sit here?” you ask Hermione under your breath, spotting Ron and Lavender enthusiastically entwined just a few spaces away.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ve got a plan. Just like you said.”

Well, at least your advice is working for someone.

“Morning!” you say brightly, sitting on Katie’s left-hand side, across from Harry Potter and Parvati Patil. At least in front of a group, you should be safe from her interrogations about Cormac.

"Hi, Parvati!" says Hermione, ignoring Ron and Lavender completely. "Are you going to Slughorn's party tonight?"

You help yourself to some cornflakes and as Parvati passes you the milk, she frowns.

"No invite," says Parvati, gloomily. "I'd love to go, though, it sounds like it's going to be really good... You're going, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm meeting Cormac at eight, and we're -"

The jug slips from your hand, milk spilling everywhere. It splashes onto the table, drenching your skirt and soaking your tights. There’s a loud, wet sound as Ron, startled, pulls away from Lavender for a moment.

"- we're going up to the party together."

Throughout all your nights studying together this week, Hermione had not shared that detail with you.

You stare down at the mess, your heart pounding as if someone just pulled the rug out from under you.

"Oh, flipping heck,” you mutter, feeling the cold, wet fabric cling to your legs.

Katie quickly vanishes the milk with a flick of her wand and hands you a napkin.

“No need to start throwing f-bombs - it’s only spilled milk” she jokes, taking the heat off of you but her expression is unusually careful as she watches you. You force a tight smile, but your heart is still thudding too fast, a mix of shock and something else twisting in your chest.

"Cormac?" asks Parvati. "Cormac McLaggen, you mean?"

Even though this was your plan all along, you never expected that just hearing his name would sting.

"That's right," says Hermione happily. "The one who almost” - she puts a great deal of emphasis on the word - "became Gryffindor Keeper."

"Are you going out with him, then?" says Parvati, wide-eyed.

Hermione giggles - a sound that cuts right through you. "Oh - yes - didn't you know?"

A lead weight sinks to the pit of your stomach.

"No!" says Parvati, looking positively agog at this piece of gossip. "Wow, you like your Quidditch players, don't you? First Krum, then McLaggen..."

"I like really good Quidditch players," Hermione corrects her, still smiling.

It’s too much. You think of Cormac and his stupid Quidditch jumper. Hermione wearing it at the game instead of you. Then you feel bad for feeling bad about them being together when it was your idea in the first place. Guilt makes the knot in your stomach tighten painfully, and you push your cereal away, the sight of food suddenly nauseating.

“You alright?” asks Katie quietly, leaning towards you.

You nod stiffly, though your throat feels tight. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’d just better change before we go,” you sigh. “I’ll meet you outside.”

“You’re definitely still coming, right?” Katie asks, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she can sense you’re having second thoughts about going to Hogsmeade.

You hesitate. The idea of going upstairs, burying your face in a pillow, and screaming into it for the next several hours suddenly seems more appealing than pretending you’re okay in Hogsmeade. "I don’t know..."

“No, please, you have to come,” implores Hermione, not realising it’s her declaration that has you wanting to retreat upstairs until the end of term.

“Where are you going?” asks Harry, glancing at Ron and Lavender who have once again resumed their public display of affection, as if he’d rather be anywhere else but in their presence.

“We’re going to Hogsmeade. The three of us. Oh, and Cormac, obviously,” says Hermione loudly and for a split second you see the back of Ron’s head pausing.

Harry gets to his feet quickly. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“The more the merrier,” Katie tells him before adding to you in a low voice, “We’ll wait in the courtyard - I think my breakfast might make another appearance if I stay around Ron and Lavender much longer.”

This is good, you tell yourself, getting up from the table and following them a few steps behind. This is what you wanted. You told yourself you had to get over Cormac. And now he’s going out with Hermione. Just like you suggested. Your plan is working. This is good.

But it doesn’t feel good. It feels awful.

As you trudge up the stairs to the common room, you find yourself repeating the same mantra.

This is good. This is what you wanted.

But the more you repeat it, the hollower it sounds.

By the time you come back downstairs to the courtyard, Harry, Hermione and Katie are having a snowball fight. It’s in full swing. And in the midst of it all, Cormac is there. Of course, Cormac is there. Hermione said he would be, didn’t she? And she should know. She’s his girlfriend, now. Apparently.

Harry fires a well-aimed snowball at Cormac but he dodges it.

“I told you, Potter - lightning quick reflexes!” Cormac shouts, his voice brimming with exhilaration. There’s something about the way his laughter fills the air that stirs something inside you that you’ve been trying to bury all week.

Harry launches another snowball, and Cormac, in an obnoxious display of skill, catches it mid-air and flings it back, hitting Harry squarely in the face.

“And the crowd goes wild!” cheers Cormac before chanting his own name. “McLaggen! McLaggen! McLaggen! McLagg - oh. Hi.”

He stops when he sees you. Like he wasn’t expecting to see you here either.

“Don’t stop on my account,” you say, putting on a brave face.

He grins at you “You joining in for once, then? I’ve never seen you throw a snowball in your life.”

“Well, maybe you’re about to,” you say, more threateningly than you intended, thinking that you’d quite like to smack him in the face for not telling you that he was going out with Hermione.

He takes a step toward you, misreading the challenge in your voice. “I’d love to see that,” he teases, scooping up a handful of snow and launching himself at you.

Before you can react, Cormac’s arm is around your waist, lifting you off the ground in one quick motion. The world spins as snow flurries around you, your shriek of protest escaping in the form of a half-laugh.

“Cormac!” you say, breathless. But your laughter dies almost instantly when reality sets in - Hermione is bent down, scooping up snow just a few feet away. His girlfriend is right there.

“Put me down,” you say, seriously this time, the joy draining from the moment. Your voice is firm, but not loud.

He stops immediately, setting you down gently, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What’s up?”

You step back, brushing the snow off your coat, swallowing the tight feeling in your chest. “I think you know.”

“Oh… sorry,” he says, now embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to cross a line or anything the other night -”

“It’s fine,” you say quickly, trying to keep your voice steady. “Don’t worry about it.” You give him a tight smile as laughter rings behind you, the others clearly not noticing or caring about your hushed conversation as their snowball fight continues. You turn away from him and call out to Katie and the others, “Are we going, then?”

The walk to Hogsmeade feels longer than usual. The others chat happily but the conversation is distant, and you keep your eyes on the snow-covered path. By the time you reach the village, the promise of a hot butterbeer should lift your spirits but it doesn’t. You feel disconnected like you’re watching everything through a fog.

“So,” Katie says, as you approach the The Three Broomsticks. “What made you come along, Cormac? I thought you were studying today?”

Cormac shrugs, but there’s a slight defensiveness in his voice. “Just something I had to do before the holidays.”

You wonder if it’s picking up a gift for Hermione.

Katie raises an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on her lips as her mind defaults to shopping too. “Determined to impress Scrimgeour, then?”

Cormac stiffens. “It’s not for Scrimgeour, Katie,” he says, his voice edged with frustration. “I just needed to pick something up.”

You don’t say anything, keeping your eyes on the ground as they continue their back-and-forth. All you can think about is how wrong everything feels.

When you reach The Three Broomsticks, Hermione opens the door, letting the warmth and chatter from inside spill out into the cold air as you go to file in behind her, Harry and Katie.

“Wait,” says Cormac, catching your arm before you can go in. “Can I have a word with you first?”

You hesitate, glancing down at his hand on your arm, then up at his face. There’s something in his expression - something hesitant, almost apologetic - that makes you pause. You really don’t want to talk but as usual, Katie butts in.

“We’ll meet you inside,” she says firmly, pulling the door closed in your face with a slam.

You have no choice but to follow him away from the door. Snow crunches beneath your boots as you walk, and the cold air stings your cheeks.

When you stop, Cormac turns to face you, running a hand through his hair, looking unsure of himself. “Look, I… I wanted to see if we were okay. You’ve been avoiding me.”

“You’ve been avoiding me too,” you challenge back.

Your breath fogs up in the cold air as you glance down at the snow, trying to collect yourself. It takes a moment for you to find the words, but they come out before you can stop them.

"I'm just... hurt, Cormac," you say, quieter than you'd planned. "You didn't even tell me you were going out with Hermione."

There’s a beat of silence as Cormac stares at you, his brow furrowing in deep confusion. He blinks, clearly caught off guard. “What? I’m not going out with Hermione.”

You meet his eyes, frowning. “I heard her say it. You're going to Slughorn’s party together.”

“I - yeah, I asked her last night because you told me to. But just as friends.” Cormac runs a hand through his hair again, exasperated. “But I’m not going out with Hermione - are you sure she told you that?”

“She told everyone at breakfast, loud and clear that -”

“Everyone? Including Ron Weasley, you mean?” he asks, trying not to smirk.

Oh.

“She was… trying to make him jealous. Like I told her to.” You blink, trying to process what he's saying. “So… you’re not - I mean - she’s not your girlfriend?”

“No.”

You let out a shaky breath and he steps closer, closing the gap between you. His voice drops to barely a whisper, but it carries with it the force of something that’s been buried far too long.

“Do you really not see it? Do you really not know?” he says, his tone almost desperate now. “I’ll go with Hermione to Slughorn’s if you want me to. Hell, I’d go with Filch if it would make you happy. Because that’s all I want. To make you happy.”

“...Really?” You can hardly believe what you’re hearing.

“Yeah.” He smiles sheepishly. “I thought you’d have worked out that’s why I asked her - since it was your idea.”

“Well… maybe you were right when you said I was an airhead,” you challenge. If you’re getting all of your confessions off of your chest, you might as well tell him you overheard this too.

“When did I ever say that?” Cormac asks, taken aback.

You hesitate, the memory is painful but clear. “You told Oliver that I was an airhead. And full of myself. And annoying. It was right before -”

Cormac groans in realisation and finishes the sentence for you. “- Before the Yule Ball.”

“Yep.” You nod, the hurt still lingering after all this time.

“So he told you all that, did he?”

“No… I overheard you. In the courtyard.”

“I -” he groans, looking so painfully guilty that you almost feel bad for calling him out. “I promise I didn’t mean it.”

“Cormac, you don’t have to make excuses -”

“It’s not an excuse.” He shakes his head. “Wood promised that Angelina would make me Keeper after he left school if I set the two of you up. And I wanted to make the team more than anything. Well - I thought I wanted to make the team more than anything.” He pauses, his green eyes locking onto yours. “But I was already planning on asking you to the Yule Ball. So I tried to have it both ways. I said that horrible stuff about you to put him off. And I never told you he was interested because… I was afraid you’d be interested back.”

“But none of it worked,” he continues, the regret in his voice cutting through the quiet. “He asked you anyway, and you said yes. And I never made the team in the end, so… it was all for nothing.”

You don’t really know what to say. How much time was wasted.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, his voice steady but filled with regret. “For saying that about you. You didn’t deserve it. I was so focused on trying to have everything - I didn’t stop to think about what was most important.”

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” you say, your heart pounding. “And, for the record, I would have gone with you. To the Yule Ball. To Slughorn’s… any of it.” You look up at him, your gaze meeting his, and for the first time, it feels like you're both finally on the same page.

Gently falling snow lands across your nose and cheeks as you look up at him. The space between you is almost nothing now. His hand reaches up and cups your face, his touch achingly gentle, almost reverent, as he brushes a wet snowflake from your cheekbone -

But then the door to The Three Broomsticks bangs open behind him, and Katie storms out, her face flushed and her hands gripping a package close to her chest.

“Katie?” you say, taken aback by her sudden appearance. “What’s going on?”

The door of the Three Broomsticks bursts open again. Harry and Hermione spill out looking frantic but Katie is already disappearing along the snow-covered street, the package clutched tightly in her arms.

“All she said was that she needs to deliver a package,” says Hermione, looking worried.

You and Cormac look at each other in alarm before you both sprint to catch up with her. You grab her arm. “Katie, what’s wrong?”

“Leave me alone!” she snaps, twisting to wrench herself free from your grip.

“Katie! What’s going on?” asks Cormac, running to her other side.

“Can you both just fuck off?”

“Woah, woah - what’s with you? And what is that? Who gave you it?”

“None of your business!”

You try to grab it. “Give it to me!”

The two of you struggle, you try to take the package from her and Cormac tries to restrain her.

Then all of a sudden, Katie lets out a scream so loud and so high that it almost pierces your eardrums.

Everything turns black as the snow-covered ground rushes up to meet you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You open your eyes a split second later in a sterile but comfortable room. Have you… apparated?

You try to sit up, but the world spins violently, your vision blurring as an antiseptic smell floods your senses.

“Woah - hold on, let me get Madam Pomfrey,” comes a familiar voice, soft but urgent.

Madam Pomfrey?

You’re in the Hospital Wing.

You blink hard, trying to focus, and slowly, Cormac’s face swims into view. He’s sitting at the edge of your bed, worry etched into every line of his features. His eyes, which normally gleam with a casual confidence, are shadowed with exhaustion.

Cormac.

He’s looking down the length of the hospital wing, scanning the empty beds for the matron, but when you touch his hand lightly, he turns back to you, his face softening with relief.

“Cormac, what happened?” You panic as you look at the empty bed next to you. “Where’s Katie? Is she here too? And that package? What was that thing?”

His brow furrows as he tries to find the right way to explain it all. "I promised I’d get Madam Pomfrey when you woke up," he says, glancing toward the door. “It was her only condition -”

“She can wait. Just tell me. Please.”

He studies your face for a moment, clearly weighing whether or not to tell you, but eventually, he sighs and moves closer, his voice low. “Katie... that package she was carrying - it was a cursed necklace. McGonagall thinks she was put under the Imperius Curse when she went to the bathroom. She wasn’t herself. You noticed it too.”

You swallow hard, the memory of Katie’s vacant eyes and her erratic behaviour flashing through your mind. “And when I tried to stop her?”

Cormac’s face darkens, his eyes flickering with something that looks dangerously close to fear. “The package split open. The necklace - it should have killed her. The curse was lethal.”

Your eyes widen, bile rising in your throat. “Lethal…”

He nods grimly. “The only reason she’s still alive is that it touched her through a tiny hole in her glove. Barely made contact with her skin, but even that was enough to put her in a bad way.”

Your blood turns cold, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a heavy stone. “Where is she?” you whisper, dreading the answer. “Is she… is she alright?”

Cormac’s jaw clenches, his voice barely above a whisper. “She’s at St. Mungo’s. They don’t know when she’ll wake up. But she’s alive.”

The room spins, this time from the sickening realisation of how close you were to losing her. Your mind races, fear wrapping its cold fingers around your heart.

“That curse was dark magic - whoever planted it knew exactly what they were doing.”

“Katie…” Your voice cracks as you press your palm to your forehead, struggling to process it. “If I hadn’t tried to take the package -”

“Hey - no.” Cormac’s voice is sharp but softens immediately. He moves closer, his hand squeezing yours. “This isn’t your fault. None of it. If anything it’s my fault -”

“Cormac…”

“No, listen. If I hadn’t asked to speak to you outside - I mean, when do you or Katie ever go to the bathroom alone? The person who put her under the Imperius Curse might not have tried if there were two of you there.”

“It’s not your fault either, Cormac. The only person to blame is whoever gave her that necklace.” You don’t even remember seeing the package split open. “But… I didn’t touch the necklace, did I? How come I’m in here?”

“Katie, er… punched you. Knocked you out cold.”

You hadn’t expected that. You find yourself lost for words, not quite able to believe what you’re hearing.

“She was under the Imperius Curse… not in her right state of mind,” continues Cormac, watching you carefully and you give him a small nod.

Silence stretches between you. The hospital wing feels eerily quiet - no bustling, no holiday cheer, just the faint sound of the fire crackling somewhere in the distance. No usual sounds of excitement of the last night of term.

The last night of term.

You glance at the snowflakes drifting down, a sense of dread creeping over you. “Cormac… what time is it? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for Slughorn’s Party?” you ask, knowing that he’d hate to miss the opportunity to network with all the people Slughorn would want to introduce him to.

Cormac shifts a little closer. “Slughorn’s party was two nights ago.”

“Two?!”

“Yeah,” he says, sounding more casual than you’d have expected.

The realisation hits you like a punch to the gut.

“It’s… it’s Christmas Day, then?” you whisper, your voice hollow, the words barely registering as they leave your mouth. “We’ve missed the train.”

Cormac shrugs again, but the weariness in his eyes betrays him. “Yeah.” His tone is light, but you can see the exhaustion etched into his features, the slight slump of his usually easy posture. He’s trying to downplay it like it’s no big deal.

But then it hits you. You stare at him, your thoughts slowly clicking into place. “Did you end up going to -” You stop yourself, feeling like it’d be incredibly selfish to ask if he and Hermione went after all, considering everything that happened.

He rubs the back of his neck, looking away like he’s embarrassed. “Slughorn’s Party? Yeah… I didn’t go. I’ve been here.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be… I - I don’t know if you remember what we talked about in Hogsmeade but -”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach as soon as you recall what he said to you. “I remember.”

“Well, I didn’t really want to go without you anyway.”

You open your mouth to respond, but no words come. You don’t know what to say. How do you thank someone for missing something like that because of you? For staying here over the holidays, for caring, for... everything.

Just as you’re about to say something - anything - the doors to the Hospital Wing swing open.

Professor McGonagall strides in, her expression as serious as ever, but there’s a flicker of relief in her eyes when she sees you sitting up.

Behind her, Madam Pomfrey hurries in and starts checking you over, pouring a large bottle of bright golden Invigoration Draught into a cup for you. At her instance, you drink it in one gulp - it’s sharp and spicy, and less gruesome than you’d braced yourself for. As the heat spreads through your chest, you feel a bit less confused.

“Well, it’s good to see you awake,” McGonagall says briskly. “Miss Bell is receiving the best care at St. Mungo’s. The Healers are doing everything they can.”

Everything they can. It doesn’t feel like enough.

“Have we missed dinner, Professor?” asks Cormac, hopefully.

“I'm afraid so, Mr McLaggen,” says McGonagall, less sharply than you're used to her addressing him as she looks from his tired demeanour to his hand holding yours. She waves her wand and a tray of sandwiches is summoned on the table beside you. “I’ll notify your parents that you’re awake and both of you can take the Knight Bus home from Hogsmeade tonight.”

“Not tonight,” says Madam Pomfrey. “Another Invigoration Draught tomorrow morning. Then you can go home.”

Your heart twists painfully, the weight of everything pressing down on you. Katie’s in St. Mungo’s, fighting for her life. Christmas has come and gone, and the world outside feels like it’s moving without you.

“Do I have to stay in the Hospital Wing tonight?” you ask, thinking you’d like nothing more than to sink into your four-poster bed upstairs.

Madam Pomfrey hesitates.

“Oh, please, Madam Pomfrey. It’s Christmas,” you pout. “I’ll come back here after breakfast tomorrow.”

“Before breakfast,” she says sternly. And once you agree, she and Professor McGonagall leave.

Cormac is still here, beside you, his hand lingering on yours, his presence steady and comforting despite everything.

“When was the last time you slept?” you ask.

“I -” He pauses. “Not for a few days.”

You insist that he go back to Gryffindor Tower and he eventually agrees. Cormac grabs a couple of sandwiches, flashing you a tired but grateful smile.

“See you at breakfast,” he says softly, and with a quick wave, he slips out of the Hospital Wing, leaving the room quiet and still.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The dormitory is dark and eerily silent. Too silent. You’re used to the comforting background noise of sharing a room with four other girls - the soft rustle of sheets, the occasional sleepy murmur, the muffled creak of bedsprings. Tonight, without them, the emptiness feels vast and oppressive, as though the walls themselves are holding their breath.

You had expected Cormac to be in the Gryffindor Common Room when you got dressed and came upstairs. But he wasn’t there. He was in bed - no doubt shattered after sitting by your side in the hospital wing for two days straight. Two long, harrowing days where you were unconscious and he was busy worrying about both you and Katie.

Katie. The thought of her pulls at your chest like a lead weight. She’s at St Mungo’s. Alive but unresponsive. The cursed necklace nearly killed her. And while Madam Pomfrey has done her best to reassure you that she’s receiving the finest care, the image of Katie in St Mungo’s is enough to keep you awake.

It doesn't help that the Invigoration Draught has worked too well. You’re frustratingly alert. You’ve never noticed the grandfather clock much before but its ticking serves as a reminder of how much time is passing without you being able to sleep.

You wonder if Cormac is in the same predicament. He was tired but maybe everything that’s happened is keeping him up too. Cormac - of all people - stayed with you through it all. Missed Slughorn’s Party. Didn’t go home for Christmas -

He didn’t go home for Christmas.

You sit bolt-upright in bed.

That means he didn’t go to the Minister for Magic’s Christmas lunch with his Uncle today. He missed it. It’s all he’s been talking about since November and he missed it.

All so he could stay here at Hogwarts.

With you.

Something swells in your chest. A little guilt mixed with, well… overwhelming affection. Did you even thank him properly? You can’t remember - everything after the cursed necklace feels like a blur. You swing your legs out of bed, wincing at the icy chill of the stone floor against your bare feet.

You walk quietly towards the boy’s dormitory. The stone floor is freezing on your bare feet as you tiptoe. Though you’re not sure why you’re being quiet - you didn’t see anyone when you walked through the Common Room earlier. You think that you and Cormac might be the only two people in the whole of Gryffindor house that are here for the holidays.

The door to the Seventh-Year boys’ dormitory creaks faintly as you push it open. “Cormac?” you whisper into the darkness.

There’s a faint stir, followed by a groggy, half-asleep voice. “Hm?”

You cross the empty room, the cold gnawing at your skin, and perch on the edge of his bed. “Are you awake?”

“Wha?” he asks, blearily.

The cold air makes goosebumps rise on your skin. “It’s me,” you say as you sit on the edge of the bed.

Cormac sits up slightly, blinking at you in confusion, his hair sticking up in every direction. “What are you doing? This is the boys’ dormitory.” He pulls the duvet to his chest. You try not to notice that he’s not wearing a t-shirt. “Are - are you okay?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Cormac rubs his face, his tired brain catching up. “Katie is going to be fine,” he reassures you. “We’ll visit her as soon as we’re allowed.”

“I know,” you say. She’s getting the best care possible. And it’s not like either of you can do anything about it. “It’s not just Katie. Well, that’s part of it. But it’s that I realised… you missed Christmas lunch with your Uncle - and the Minister.”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.”

“It’s not fine. It’s all you’ve been talking about for weeks,” you insist, making a conscious effort to stop your teeth from chattering. “Missing your Uncle. Seeing Scrimgeour again. The fact you stayed here with me instead… that’s like, the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

Cormac fumbles for his wand on the bedside table, muttering “Lumos.” It lights the nearest lamp. You scoot closer to him on the edge of his bed. The soft glow of the lamp bathes the room in warm light, and he turns to look at you properly, his eyes - greener than you’d ever realised - serious and searching.

“It was nothing. I told you already.”

“Well… I just wanted to say thank you -” you take a steadying breath, moving closer to him again. “- And… do this.”

Without thinking, you lean in, your heart racing. You close the distance between you and press your lips to his before you can second-guess it or get interrupted again.

Cormac pauses, completely caught off guard. You can feel the surprise in his stillness, but it lasts for barely a second before he responds with a surge of enthusiasm that almost takes your breath away.

He shrugs his bedsheets aside, sitting up so he can deepen the kiss, his lips warm and eager against yours. There’s no hesitation now, just the full force of his want, crashing into you like a tidal wave.

It’s everything you wanted it to be. He’s a good kisser. Really good.

You try to put a lot of meaning into the kiss. That you’re grateful for him staying here at Hogwarts with you. That you forgive him for his stupid, blundering mistakes before the Yule Ball.

But mostly, you try to tell him that you’ve been in love with him forever. Ever since you sat beside him on the Hogwarts Express on the first day of school.

You intended to give him a quick goodnight kiss and go back to your dormitory but the thought of leaving quickly leaves your mind when he parts his lips, tender and soft as Honeydukes caramel, as he explores the taste of your tongue. His hands wrap around your back, encouraging you closer, pulling you onto his lap so you’re straddling him.

You were freezing a minute ago but his bare chest and shoulders are warm and he doesn’t seem to mind your cold hands traversing over his body.

You need him. This is new territory. This is… you’ve never felt like this before. Well, maybe alone in your bed, but not with other people. You haven’t done anything more than kissing before.

But this is already more than just kissing, you think, as your tongue meets his again as he licks into your mouth. This is hot and heavy. You’re already starting to feel like you’re not close enough to him.

And so does he.

You feel a firm bulge pressing into your open legs and with a jolt of excitement, you realise he’s only wearing boxers. Everything below your waist throbs hot and sticky as his hips subtly twitch upwards, pressing against your pyjama shorts.

The ache between your legs is too unbearable to ignore. You adjust your hips and the friction against your bundle of nerves is white hot, almost dizzying. He responds to your movements by gripping onto your hips, his cock twitching against your pussy, just two thin pieces of material between you. You’re positively burning up now as he lets out a low groan into your mouth as you kiss him, before pulling back to suck on his bottom lip.

“Fuck…” you murmur, as you wriggle your hips impatiently. But when you say that he pulls back to look at you, his eyebrow raised. “What?” you ask.

You don’t want him to stop - not now.

“I’ve just never heard you swear before,” he grins and your cheeks burn.

You bite your lip. “It just… slipped out.”

“I like it…” he says, eyes glancing over your chest as it rises and falls rapidly in time with your breathing.

His fingers hook around the straps of your tank top, pausing just before they drop over your shoulders. The touch is featherlight like he’s waiting for something. Then his voice, low and careful, breaks through the charged silence.

“Is this okay?” he asks softly, his eyes meeting yours.

You nod and then, realising what he’s just said, you blink. “You’re... asking?”

Cormac tilts his head slightly, frowning just a little like something about your surprise bothers him. “Of course I’m asking,” he says, his voice quieter now, but insistent, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You swallow, looking away for a moment, feeling still warmed by the way he’s watching you. Nobody’s bothered to ask you if they could touch you before. It’s…. well, it’s classic him. Considerate. Sure enough of himself that he genuinely would respect whatever answer you gave him.

It makes you want him even more.

“You can - you can touch me. Wherever you want.”

You place your hands on top of his and help him slip your straps down, pulling your top down over your breasts.

“Fuck…” Cormac takes a deep, steadying breath. He tilts his head up and looks at the hangings above the bed.

“...Cormac?” you ask, uncertainly. “Are you -?”

“Yep,” he tells the hangings. “It’s just - I mean, I’ve just - thought about this moment a lot. And in no version did it involve me - y’know - making a mess of myself just from seeing your tits.”

A mischievous smile creeps across your lips. “Are you about to?”

“I’ll be fine - wha - oh, that is not helping.”

You slowly grind your hips against his and place his hands over your breasts. The underside of his cock twitches again against your now soaked pyjama shorts.

“I’ve thought about it a lot too,” you whisper, pressing your lips against his ear. “You can cum like this. If you want.”

“That would be - ah, fuck - completely fucking embarrassing,” he says, his eyebrows knitting together.

“I think it’s hot.”

As soon as you say that, his shoulders relax and he buries his face between your tits with an agonised groan. Your hands tangle in his hair as you rock restlessly against him, moving your hips in search of the gnawing need between your legs.

Cormac swirls his tongue, open-mouthed and panting against your skin. He pushes your tits together, toying with your nipples, pinching the hardened buds between his fingertips in a way that makes you let out an involuntary squeal.

“Too hard?” he asks, concerned, and you shake your head fervently.

“Do it again,” you whimper.

You grind yourself along his rock-hard bulge, feeling exceptionally greedy as Cormac toys with your tits. Pleasure swells in your abdomen. God, this feels good. He drinks up every noise you accidentally release, as you hover on the edge - wasn’t he the one who was supposed to be close?

Suddenly, Cormac grabs your hips, stopping you from moving and you almost cry out in protest. He breathes shakily, adjusting himself.

“Did you just…”

“Not yet,” he says, and before you know it he’s manoeuvring on top of you, flipping you on your back and splaying you out on his bedsheets. “I need to find out just how sweet you taste first.”

This is more like the Cormac you know. He’s been so reserved, so unlike himself around you for the past several weeks that you almost forgot how cocky he could get.

And wow, do you like it.

“Cormac,” you whisper, feeling yourself turn crimson now under his touch.

He plants a trail of kisses along your collarbone, down your torso and pauses just below your navel. Cormac hooks his fingers in the waistband of your pyjama shorts and you arch your back so he can remove them and toss them onto the floor in a pathetic heap.

Cormac drags the pads of his fingertips across your flushed, slick pussy. “Is this… for me?” He gives you the widest, most gleeful grin you’ve ever seen plastered on his face as he laughs once, under his breath. “You’re so wet.”

“Don’t laugh,” you pout - although from the way he’s lighting up, you can tell he likes the effect he’s having on you.

“You’ve got to admit, it is kind of funny. How everyone calls you Sweet because you’ve got this ‘butter wouldn’t melt’ thing going on but here you are… sneaking into my bed in the middle of the night.”

Your hips buck as he slides his fingers through your folds, dragging your arousal across your clit. An uncontrollable whine leaves your mouth as his fingers glide up and down, up and down. He rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek thoughtfully as he looks you over. “I wonder what other swear words you know…”

“I - ah - I told you it just slipped out -” you stammer. Goosebumps break out along your arms - this time it’s nothing to do with the cold - you’re burning up, hearing him talk to you like this. But the more you blush, the more it spurs him on.

Cormac gives you a lop-sided smirk as he drags gentle, lazy circles around your clit. “So… that kind of talk is just for me, right?” he asks. You wriggle again, opening yourself up wider, silently willing him to put his fingers inside you.

“Yes,” you whimper. He’s got you wrapped around his finger - almost literally. You’ll say anything he wants to hear. Do anything - everything that he wants. Give him anything he asks. As long as he keeps touching you like this.

You make a soft, vulnerable sound in bliss, feeling yourself slowly falling apart at how he’s circling over that little bundle of nerves that makes your eyes fucking roll back. He hisses an inhale through his teeth, watching your reaction.

And then suddenly, he’s pushing in and curling two thick fingers inside your eager, soaking wet pussy and hooking them tight against your g-spot.

“Oh.” Your hand flies blindly down to touch his face - just for something to feel - and his expression changes from a smug smile to stern concentration.

Your thumb brushes along his cheekbone, grazing the rough stubble of his jaw. He tilts his head just enough to kiss your palm, the warmth of his lips lingering against your skin, sending a spark racing up your arm.

Then his eyes find yours - those green eyes, darker now, pupils blown out with a burning intensity that knocks the breath from your lungs. The way he looks at you, unflinching, unrestrained, sends a rush of heat through you, making your heart pound and your pulse quicken.

You almost cry out when Cormac lowers his head and his soft lips envelope your clit. You clench around his fingers and tense your stomach when his tongue swirls even hotter and more dextrous than his fingers.

“Mhmm,” he says, pressing a kiss against your inner thigh before looking up with a wicked grin. His chin is wet. “You are sweet.”

You bite your lip and let your head roll back as he resumes his gentle licking. You can hardly believe this is happening. You’re trembling as you try to suppress another squeal but it’s like he can read your mind -

“It’s okay to make noise. Nobody’s here. You don’t need to hold back,” he says between sloppy sucking. You remind yourself, that you’ve been best friends for so long he can probably read the nuances of your body language.

“Ah - okay, okay. Fuck - Cormac,” is all you can manage.

“That’s my girl.”

Oh, fuck. Why did he have to call you that? Your pussy clenches tight, neediness swelling in waves in your abdomen.

And then you don’t expect the way his whole arm moves as he picks up pace. At first, you feel jostled, almost manhandled when his fingers don’t go in and out but instead curl into you with such intense pressure that you feel like you can’t keep up. It’s too fast. Too much.

Until it suddenly isn’t.

The flat of his tongue rubs against your clit in time with his fingers pressing against your g-spot. Blazing, white-hot heat twists tightly in your pelvic floor muscles. Your hand slides down to the juncture of muscle between his neck and his shoulder as you grip helplessly, feeling the relentless pressure of him stimulating that perfect spot deep inside you.

“Cormac,” you pant, as your walls twitch and tighten around those two fingers. “I’m - ha - that’s - yeah, there.”

“Mhm,” he murmurs, sending vibrations across your clit. His eyes move back to your face. You convulse around your best friend’s fingers as he pulls you closer and closer to the edge. You’ve stopped wriggling, chasing your release - you don’t need to. Your whole body goes limp as you just let him drill inside you.

“Yes,” you say, biting your lip, your eyebrows knitting together, losing yourself in the mindless sensation. “Fuck, yesyesyesyes -”

He looks into your eyes while you plead for him as he pulls the orgasm from you. You clutch on his shoulder, feeling his hand working between your legs, pulling you higher and higher and -

Fuck.

Everything plummets.

White noise rings in your ears as your insides twist and release, sending agonising pleasure rippling through your whole body, more bright and explosive than anything you’ve felt before.

His hand slows down, dragging out the boiling hot aftershock, massaging your pussy until you’re a trembling mess.

At last, he slowly slips his fingers out from inside of you and lies next to you.

Cormac can’t tear his eyes from you, watching the way your head falls back onto the pillow - his pillow - as you catch your breath, looking up at the velvet hangings above and raking your hands through your hair.

You think you must lie there in stunned silence for a full minute before you realise he’s waiting on you to say something.

“What -” you swallow, your mouth feeling dry. “What time is the Knight Bus tomorrow?”

Cormac tilts his head, concerned. “After breakfast, I think. But, I mean… if you need space or something, then that’s fine -”

“No,” you turn your head on the pillow quickly. “No, nothing like that.”

You roll on top of him so that you’re straddling him again and lean down. Your hair tickles his cheek as you lean in close enough to see every detail of his face - the faint freckles across his nose, the shadow of stubble on his jaw, even the flutter of his lashes. Every inch of him feels so present.

“I’m trying to figure out how many times we can do that before McGonagall sends us home,” you smirk and relief crosses his face.

“I thought you were trying to see if there was any way you could leave earlier,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sincerity.

You shake your head. “I want to stay here forever. I want -” You plant a kiss on his cheek and slip your hand between your bodies, your curious fingers lightly dancing over his hard cock through his boxers. “- I want you. So badly. You have no idea.”

“Pretty sure I have some idea how that feels.” Cormac reaches down to catch the waistband of his boxers with his thumbs and lets you pull out his cock. It’s just as gorgeous as the rest of him. You wrap your palm around him, feeling how warm and thick he is, and slowly jerk your wrist. His jaw tightens and he jerks his hips upwards to meet your soft, clenched fist.

“That’s - fuck, that’s good -” he says, closing his eyes, his lips slightly parted. He looks so good like this, you think, as you watch him swallow thickly, neck muscles contracting.

You adjust yourself higher up his body so that you can kiss his exposed neck. As you keep working your wrist between your bodies the tip of his cock rests against your wet folds.

“Cormac,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly, “do you want to…?”

His eyes open, searching yours with quiet intensity. “Yeah,” he says softly like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Your hand pauses stroking him, caught off guard by the steadiness of his answer. “You didn’t even let me finish the question.”

“I don’t need to,” he says, his voice gentle but certain. “If it’s you, the answer’s always yes.”

You can’t help it - the corners of your mouth twitch upward despite the nervous flutter in your chest and the fact that the tip of his leaking cock is pressing against your soaked entrance.

“Does it… do you know if it hurts?” you ask, your voice quieter now - hesitant.

Cormac tilts his head slightly, studying you, his brow furrowing - not in judgment, but in thought. “I don’t know,” he admits, his voice honest but calm. “I’ve never - ” He pauses for a beat, his green eyes flickering with something unreadable. “I haven’t done this before either.”

Your eyes widen. “You haven’t?”

He shakes his head, his expression softening into something almost self-conscious. “Nope.”

“Really?” The word comes out before you can stop it, your voice tinged with disbelief. Somehow, you’d always imagined him as… well, more experienced. The fact that he isn’t, that this is just as new for him, feels oddly grounding.

“Yeah, really,” he says, a small, self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. His gaze remains fixed on yours, unwavering. “It’s not like I’ve never had the chance or anything… just none of them felt right.”

You swallow hard, your throat tight. “And… this does?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah.” His lips twitch into a faint smile. “It’s always been you, Sweet. And if you want this too, then -”

“I do. Cormac.” You swallow, the truth spilling out before you can second-guess it. “Of course, I do. I’ve been in love with you since I was eleven years old.”

“So have I,” he says, his voice low but certain. “So there’s nothing to worry about,” he says softly, like a promise. “I’ve got you.”

For once, you don’t think, don’t question. You lift your hips back slightly, just enough for the head of his cock to part your folds. Cormac holds the base of his length, positioning himself so that you can balance your weight, one hand on his chest, the other on the bed.

You sink down, feeling pressure as his cock pushes through your entrance. You shut your eyes tight, expecting pain but you open them again when you feel two large hands caressing your hips.

“Still got you, baby.”

A deep heat blooms within you, sweeping through your body like a tide and leaving your thoughts in a hazy, breathless blur. You slide down further - so slick and hot between your legs that there’s no resistance besides the stretch of him filling you up. As you lower yourself, his reassurance becomes a dark, lustful groan and his thumbs press on your hipbones.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Fuck - that’s - yeah -”

The back of your thighs meet his hips as you bottom out and the sensation is all-consuming, a wildfire of longing that burns away reason.

His cock presses up against every part of your insides in a way that your body has craved for so long while you tried to ignore it. Every smile he flashed you from across the room, every time you brushed past him as he held a door open - it always made something in your core lurch. And now as you feel those same muscles tighten you realise the extent of your primal want for him.

“It’s… it’s in,” you whisper and it feels almost redundant to say it when it’s so patently obvious but you’re trying to tell him and yourself that you’re okay. It hurts a little - but in a good way - like when your legs ache from climbing a long flight of stairs. Except you never feel fire igniting in your belly like this when you ascend the staircase of the Astronomy Tower.

“Yeah, I’m inside you,” he says breathlessly. Then his expression changes, something flickering in his eyes - an intense, unspoken longing that unfurls in the space between you. “I’m fucking inside you,” he says again, the words low and rough, tumbling from his lips like he’s surrendering to a need he can no longer contain. He thrusts upwards and you gasp breathlessly, it’s as though the world tilts on its axis.

“You good?” he asks, grabbing firm fistfuls of your hips. You nod, your thoughts disapparating around the edges when his cock twitches inside you. “You feel perfect.”

You melt so fiercely under his compliment that you need to look away. But when you look down between your bodies and see him buried to the hilt inside you, you can see why he had to repeat himself.

This is happening - it’s real and it’s actually happening and it’s everything you ever hoped.

You lift your hips in slow, stuttered little jumps, experimenting with the way he feels inside you. Is this right? Are you good at this? Should you move more like this? But Cormac helps, his hands on your tentative hips aid your momentum as he decisively guides you forward and back and - oh.

Now, this is right.

You know for certain now, as his thick cock glides in and out of your sopping wet folds, your arousal dripping all over him, and you can’t tear your eyes away in an almost enchanted haze. You know you must feel right for him too because in almost rhythmic agreement, his cock pushes against that deep sensitive spot you need as you convulse around him.

“Oh, shit -” breathes Cormac. “Look at me, look at me.”

With difficulty, your eyes pull up weakly, looking away from his cock driving into you and meeting his gaze. He’s so present and focused - like he’s searching for something.

Cormac’s hand slides from your hip and his thumb finds your swollen clit. You gasp, realising only now how close you are to the edge. You curse and Cormac grins. This is the answer to the silent question he’d been searching for.

“Fuck -” you whine, your pussy clamping down hard around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck -”

“That’s it, baby. Tell me how good it is.”

“Mhm,” you huff as you pick up pace, bouncing against his lap, chasing every bit of friction he has to offer you. It all melds together, the way his cock fills you up, his wet thumb rubbing against your clit, his other hand roughly guiding you up and down on him.

“Fuck - it’s good - s’good -” you try and keep focused on his gorgeous look of concentration as your floor muscles clamp down. “You’re so fucking good.”

He closes his eyes and an agonised groan tumbles from his lips when you say that.

“Yeah? You like that?”

“Yesyesyesyes,” you whimper, every syllable punctuated with you riding him. Your eyes roll back as everything winds tighter and tighter, your nerve endings alight and sparking pleasure through your body.

“Fuck, say it again,” he growls, his hips jutting up to slap against the back of your thighs.

You don’t even know when you say next. All you know is that whatever filthy words spill out, make Cormac laugh triumphantly through gritted teeth as your world shatters.

He murmurs your name - your real name, not that nickname everyone calls you - as he rubs your clit and fucks you exactly where you need him to, throwing you towards raw pleasure.

“Are you cumming again, baby?”

“Ah - uh-huh,” you choke and even that little moan in the affirmative is a struggle.

Every unbridled bounce of your hips sends your mind reeling as your orgasm crashes down over you. Your pussy throbs and twitches around him, squeezing him hard as you ride out the beautiful wave.

Fuck.

It’s messy, it’s aching, it’s blurry, it’s debilitating. You can barely see straight.

You twitch from oversensitivity as Cormac fucks himself up and into you in search of his own high. His hips thrust erratically and his face contorts in pleasure and then suddenly he’s forcing your hips down onto him, and with a guttural moan, he’s cumming deep inside you, holding you in place even as you squirm and shake through the aftershock of your own ecstasy.

Everything goes dark - you see actual stars behind your eyelids. Vaguely, you’re aware of Cormac tenderly manoeuvring you with strong, safe arms so that you’re lying at his side, your head resting on his chest. He pulls his duvet over you - it's cosy and smells like him. It's wonderful.

“You’re shaking - are you warm enough?”

“Mhm,” you murmur, feeling your eyes grow heavy as you try to keep them open. “Just tingly. It’s… it’s nice.”

Cormac tilts your chin up and he leans down to kiss you, slow and lazy. He’s soft and warm. You’re safe and pliant. His fingers tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear and sweetly brush the curve of your jaw.

“Are you tired?” he asks.

“A little,” you say. It's an understatement. You're barely able to lift your eyelids to look at him. There’s something about being nestled here on his shoulder - like you were in front of the common room fire a few weeks ago - that just signals to your body that it’s secure and that you can relax fully. “You?”

“Yeah… I just don’t wanna fall asleep in case I’m already dreaming. I can’t believe this is real.”

“It’s real,” you sigh pleasantly, feeling his very real heartbeat in his chest as you snuggle in closer. The way he’s looking at you - like he’s seeing something precious - makes your chest ache.

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing as he lies back on his pillow. “Because I don’t want this to end.”

You don’t want it to end either.

“I know you probably want to catch the Knight Bus tomorrow and see your family but -” he starts, hesitating slightly.

You cut him off gently. “We could stay here. For the holidays. If you want to.”

He closes his eyes, the softest smile curling his lips as his thumb brushes your shoulder. “Yeah,” he says, his voice steady now. “I want that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Gryffindor Common Room is a blazing display of gold and red. Laughter and cheering fill the room so loudly that you can barely hear yourself think as you weave through the crowd with two butterbeers in hand.

“Cheer up, Cormac,” you say, finding him on a plump armchair in the corner of the room. You hand him a butterbeer and sit on his lap. He pulls you close, his hand resting on the back of your thigh. “We won the cup, didn’t we?”

“I really thought this was going to be my year,” he grumbles. “I might just have to face it - maybe I’m not cut out to play Quidditch.”

“I think you’re brilliant,” you say, although your words are probably meaningless - you don’t know the first thing about Quidditch.

“Oh, come on. You were there - you watched me knock Potter out with a bludger in the last game.”

“Well, Katie was still in St Mungo’s, wasn’t she? You had other things on your mind.”

Cormac tuts, as if he’s annoyed at himself for being distracted by one of his best friends being in mortal peril.

“Besides,” you say, leaning in and pressing your mouth to his ear. “You have plenty of other talents. Ones that are more… useful than Quidditch.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, turning to give you a lopsided grin. His tone is low, teasing, but the heat in his eyes makes your pulse quicken. “Care to elaborate?”

You don’t bother answering. Instead, you press your lips to his, letting the butterbeer bottle tilt precariously in your grip as his arms tighten around your waist. His hand slides a little higher up your thigh, the warmth of it sending sparks skittering down your spine. You tilt your head, deepening the kiss, and suddenly it feels like the whole room could catch fire from how hot your skin feels against his.

“Alright, that’s enough of the Devil’s Snare impression” Katie’s voice interrupts, dry and sharp as she drops into the armchair beside yours, looking equal parts amused and exasperated.

You pull back, flustered, trying to regain a sliver of composure. Cormac shifts slightly, but his arm stays around your waist, not bothering to hide the grin on his face.

“Do you have to keep doing that where I can see? I’ve had enough trauma this year without adding that to the list,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“Sorry,” you grin sheepishly.

“Don’t be,” Katie snorts. “Honestly, I prefer this to whatever you were doing before. It was unbearable. I mean, the pining - ” she shudders theatrically “- disgusting.”

You laugh, but Cormac just raises his butterbeer in mock toast. “Thanks for your support. Truly heartwarming.”

Katie waves a hand dismissively, clearly unbothered. “Just get me my next butterbeer so I don’t need to fight through that crowd again, and we’ll call it even.”

Cormac reaches over without missing a beat, handing her his unopened bottle. “Here. You’ve earned it.”

She raises an eyebrow, suspicious. “Why, because I nearly got cursed to death and inadvertently set the two of you up?”

“No,” Cormac says dryly, though his lips twitch. “Because you’ve basically just won us the bloody Quidditch Cup.”

You raise your butterbeer in solidarity. “To Katie.”

“To me,” she says smugly, clinking her bottle with yours before taking a long sip.

The three of you settle into easy conversation, as easy and as natural as it’s always been.

Sitting here in the glow of victory, with Katie healthy and whole, and Cormac’s arm around your waist, you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

Things are pretty sweet. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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