#{ so I sit here and wait for the angst to creep in/when I have an excuse to reveal things cackles }

[wolfmoonmusic]

Misunderstandings

Summary: Sirius is yours and you are his. But do you both know that?

Request: Sirius and reader have a kind of an off and on flirtation/situationship thing going and he sees her going on a "date" with Frank Longbottom (personally I had headcanon that Frank was the fifth boy in the dorm along with the Marauders) in reality she's went on a pretend date to help Frank get ready for the real date he's taking her best friend Alice on and so Sirius gets jealous and wants to make things official before he loses her to someone else a little bit of angst with happy ending you know

Requested by: @jessiegerl

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Warnings: Readers parents hate her and well we all know how Sirius's Parents are.

w/c: 2.8k+

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Sirius Black was not used to affection.

It was foreign to him. He never received praise, compliments, or anything positive. Ever.

So when the acquaintances he’d made on the hogwart’s express clapped him on the back after getting into Gryffindor, he didn’t know how to react other than to flinch.

And when you, introduced as James’s honorary sister, sat down that night, you’d complimented his hair.

You’d said “I like your long hair. It suits you.”

His parents hated that hairstyle. 

He’d kept it purely as an act of rebellion. However, now, now he seemed to like it just a bit more. He hadn’t said thank you. Because he hadn’t known he was supposed to. So he’d just nodded, and you’d grinned.

That grin changed everything. You changed everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What if we make polyjuice potion, and I disguise myself as Narcissa, lead Lucius on for a bit and then prank him?” you asked, playing with the quill in your hands. 

Remus groaned, “We’re still on this?” he asked, throwing his head back in disbelief.

“N/n, Remmy is right, we pranked Lucius only the day before yesterday,” Sirius nodded. You raised an eyebrow at him knowing he was never one to back down from a prank on any Slytherin.

And you were right. He wanted to do it. But if that meant Lucius got a chance to be near you even in a slightly romantic way, he would hurl.

And possibly punch him.

“Oh c’monnn Siri,” you whined, putting on your best pleading face and puppy eyes.

Damn those puppy eyes.

Sirius just shook his head, ignoring the way his heart was racing at your look. He watched as you pouted, leaning back on to the couch, head resting on James’s shoulder. “James, help me out here,” you said, folding your arms as you waited expectantly.

But James was too busy staring at a certain redhead and you, still staring at Sirius, nudged James in the chest.

“Huh? What?”

Sirius burst out laughing at the way your face twisted in pure irritation, the other two boys joining in as you hit James repeatedly with a pillow.

“Ow ow! I’m sorry, I'm sorry!” James laughed as you continued your assault fighting the grin that was creeping up on your face.

“Fuck you Potter!” you laughed, as James tried to correct his hair, you stopping him and messing it up further.

Sirius watched the exchange between you both, a sick feeling crawling up his chest. He knew that you both were no more than honorary siblings and it would always be that way, but deep down he wished you were sitting next to him, doing all that silly stuff with him.

He immediately brushed it off, not one to allow feelings to linger for long, replacing his hardened stare with a smirk instead, watching you and James continue to fight like kids, admiring the bright smile on your face.

He wished that that smile would never go away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Black, if you could be any animal in the world which was not a dog, which by the way I still don’t understand why that’s your favorite animal, which would you choose?” you asked, mindlessly hooking your hand with his as you both walked to class in 4th year.

He ignored the burst of feelings that erupted in him, trying to focus on your question and not on the way your hand felt against his, clinging on as you pranced lightly. “Uhh, I don’t know” he muttered, his brain fogging up as he refrained himself from staring at your linked hands. You hummed, breaking away from him as James and Remus came into view outside the class.

He paused for a few seconds trying to calm down his erratic heart before shaking his head and entering the class. 

You waved him down, patting the seat next you, and the second he sat down, you grabbed his arm, sticking your tongue out at a slytherin girl eyeing you both with pure jealousy written all over her face.

Sirius laughed, “What’s that all about?”

“She likes you,” you pouted, “and asked me, ME to set you both up!” you pointed to yourself in disbelief.

“She looks cute,” Sirius said, winking at the girl. 

You gasped at the way the girl blushed in response. “She’s a slytherin!” you exclaimed, swatting his shoulder. 

Sirius shrugged, “Good point, guess I’ll have to find someone else then.”

“No way! You’re mine” you said seriously, jabbing a finger at his chest. 

His heart erupted, eyes widening. But he played it off quickly, leaning over to whisper in your ear. “You wish sweetheart.” 

Your face turned pink, eyes widening. Luckily the professor walked in, not allowing Sirius to dwell on your reaction.

Merlin, he was done for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were always a naturally happy person. The boys had never seen you cry, even though they’d all had their breakdown moments. You’d been their rock through everything. 

However, when 5th year started, you’d changed. You opted out of pranks, studying almost all the time and the usual spark in your eyes had faded. James seemed to know what had happened but he refused to let the others know, telling them it was up to you to reveal it to them. 

He was worried about you, Sirius could tell, and that made the long-haired boy worry even more. 

He’d tried to get you to talk to him, but you’d refused.

Until one day you’d shown up to Charms, puffy-eyed and asked Sirius to meet you in the Astronomy tower after his classes were done for the day. 

He’d waited anxiously, and as soon as his classes finished, he ran to find you.

You were standing right where you’d said you’d be, gazing up at the sky. You turned when you saw him, a small smile forming on your lips. But the boy noticed the way it seemed to require so much effort from you, which was never the case before.

You turned away again, wordlessly staring at the sky. He wanted to demand an explanation, no longer able to watch you like this.

“Y/N-”

“I’ve never stopped to think,” you started softly, still staring above. Sirius stepped closer to you, waiting patiently for you to continue.

You took a deep breath before turning to face him. 

“I’ve never let myself stop doing things or take a break because then all the thoughts flood the gates and I feel like I’m going to drown. But-” your eyes glazed over as you took a shuddering breath, looking down at your feet.

Sirius grabbed your shaking hands with one of his own, using the other to lift your chin up so that you could look at him. 

“I’m listening,” he whispered.

You bit down on your lip before starting again, “But this summer was bad Siri- they- they said the worst things and-” you couldn’t finish as a sob wracked through your body. 

Sirius pulled you to him, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and another lightly around your head as if trying to shield you.

He knew about the situation with your parents. They were almost never at home, and whenever they were, they made it very clear that they hadn’t wanted children in the first place. That’s why you spent most of your time at the Potter’s. 

It’s also why you understood his situation so well.

You pulled away, wiping your tears away as you looked at Sirius. “Euphemia says she won’t let me go back this time even if they ask,” you laughed slightly remembering the possessiveness that had come over the older Potter. 

Sirius smiled, “Good.”

“Thanks Siri,” you nodded, and Sirius beamed at the real smile that made its way to your face. 

“Anytime princess. But don’t get too comfortable, other girls will get jealous.”

You gasped, playfully punching him on his shoulder, “I better be your one and only Black!” you laughed, and he joined in, hiding the way that sentence struck his heart.

Little did you know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Sirius found himself knocking on the door of the Potter’s house, he didn’t expect for you to open it.

Shit. He’d forgotten you stayed there now.

But he couldn’t back away. He didn’t have the energy, nor did he think you would let him, at the way you gasped in horror as you looked at him.

He mustered all his strength into a cheeky “Hi” before James appeared behind you, giving the same reaction you had seconds before. You stood there in shock, hands over your mouth and eyes watering at the sight of the boy in front of you.

Sirius gave up on trying to fake it, giving in as you and James pulled him inside the house. 

“James, get your mom,” you ordered. The boy hesitated as you guided Sirius to the sofa, before you turned and glared at him and he ran off. 

Your eyes scanned the boy, a sort of resolve taking you over as you kneeled down in front of him. Sirius was fighting to keep consciousness and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold it for.

“Sirius,” you called gently, placing a hand on his knee, slowly and carefully. “What happened?” you asked. 

Sirius didn’t want to relive what his mother had done to him, trying desperately to push it all away, trying to drown himself in your presence. But he knew you’d need an explanation if you were to help him get rid of the immense pain he was feeling right now.

“Cruciatus,” he whispered, noticing the horror and anger that made its way to your face, but also noticing the way the gentleness of your touch hadn’t changed.

“Can’t go back. Ever.” he muttered, and you were quick to adjust yourself so that he could look you in the eyes. “You won’t ever be going back. Even if Euphemia can’t keep us all here, you and I will find another place. But Black,” you placed a careful hand on his cheek and he leaned into it, “You are never. Ever. Going back there.” The seriousness in your voice gave Sirius enough strength to whisper a “Thank you” before partially fading out of consciousness again, comforted by the fact that you were here, and for once in his life feeling that things would be okay.

He could vaguely make out Euphemia and Fleamont’s reaction to seeing him nearly passed out on the couch, and your hurried explanation of whatever you’d understood from what he’d said. Euphemia walked up to him moments later with a some medicine in hand, something about opening his mouth, gulping, and about helping him sleep and doctors and the next day at sunrise. He couldn’t process it, just doing what he was told. 

James and you then carefully lifted him, carrying him to a room and gently placing him on a bed. 

He could hear you and James both talking in hushed whispers, but he was unable to make out what you were saying, as he fell into a disturbed sleep.

He woke up in the middle of night once, sweating and terrified, haunted by what he’d seen in his nightmare. But before he could properly react and realize where he was, you got up from beside him. 

He couldn’t breathe, and tears were streaming down his face. He could see you move to sit in front of him and your lips moving but he couldn’t make out what you were saying. 

You then gently placed your hands on his face and surprisingly it helped. 

It grounded him, reminded him that he was with you and not with his monstrous parents.

Your voice started to fade back in and he could hear you telling him to breathe, and so he did, thankful that you were there to help him.

Of all the Marauders, he felt the safest with you. 

“I’m okay,” he whispered once his breathing was back in his control. You nodded, sighing softly.

“Thank you,” he muttered, looking up at your tired eyes, “and I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s fine,” you shrugged, “I hadn't slept. I was too worried.” You said, moving to sit against the headboard of the bed.

“Sorry for that then,” Sirius said lying back down. 

You stared at him for a few minutes before running a hand through his hair, massaging his scalp softly.

“It’s not your fault Sirius, don’t apologize.”

Sirius didn’t respond, trying to focus on you, and on where he was, rather than the memories that were flooding his brain.

You laid down next to him, and Sirius realized that he was infact in your room, and as he turned to apologize once again, you placed a finger on his lips.

“If you apologize for intruding or something like that again, I will make you sleep on the couch.” you threatened your voice laced with humor.

Sirius smiled at you slightly, and you pulled him close to you, allowing him to tuck his face under your chin as you wrapped your hands and legs around him. He was glad you did so, it made him feel safe, and as if you’d heard his thoughts, you whispered into his ear “You’re safe with me Black. You’re mine, and I’ll keep you safe”

He wished he really was yours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sirius couldn’t find you anywhere. And what worried him more was that he couldn’t find Frank anywhere either. 

Why did that matter?

Well as you and Sirius had gotten closer and flirtier, you and Frank had gotten closer too. After the fiasco that took place over the summer, you’d spent more time with the boys in their dorm room and naturally that meant you were hanging out with their roommate Frank Longbottom as well. 

And now Sirius was worried that you’d thought his flirting was just him being Sirius and that he had no actual feelings for you.

If you really did think that and if you’d decided to hang out with Frank instead, Sirius had no idea what he would do. 

He’d searched every nook and corner of Hogwarts and now the only other place he could think of was Hogsmeade. 

Oh Merlin he hoped it wasn’t Hogsmeade.

Sirius snuck out of the school during study hours, making his way to Hogsmeade, anxiety filling him.

As he made his way through hogsmeade, his heart dropped when he saw your familiar figure next to Frank’s. 

Your head was thrown back in laughter, and Frank was grinning. “You did great! I’m sure next time will be just as smooth,” you said, patting him on the shoulder.

Next time?

Fear creeped up on Sirius.

He couldn’t lose you to Frank. 

He couldn’t lose you to anyone.

He ran up to you and Frank, seeing both of your faces twist in confusion.

“Sirius?”

“You can’t date him!” Sirius exclaimed, pointing to Frank. 

“What?” you and Frank both said at once, before realization crossed your features and a small smile formed on your lips. 

But Sirius was too anxious and worried to register it, only glaring at Frank.

“Frank, what about you go back, and I’ll figure out what Sirius wants,” Frank nodded at your suggestion and walked off, patting Sirius on the back once.

“Why can’t I date Frank?” you asked, looking at Sirius who was still glaring at the boy who’d just walked away.

He spun around to look at you, surprise all over his face. Anyone could see you struggling to hide your smile and maintain a serious expression on your face, but Sirius was blinded.

“Because- ‘Cause-” Sirius faltered, what he was about to do, dawning on him. He hadn’t wanted to confess to you like this.

“Because?” you asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Because I like you,” he rushed out, scared he would think twice and miss this chance. And the slight tinge of pink in your cheeks gave him confidence. 

“Actually no, I don’t like you, I love you. I’m head over heels for you and I cannot imagine not being with you, at all. I want - no need you to be mine”

You grinned, “Black finally confesses! And you really think I would have gone out with Frank when I have feelings for you? He wanted me to help him get ready for the actual date he’s taking Alice on, since she’s my close friend.” 

Sirius heard nothing except - “You have feelings for me?”

You laughed, linking your hand with his, “I thought it was obvious!”

He turned you around, looking at you, “You really like me?”

You shook your head, laughing lightly, before leaning up to place your lips against his.

His hand moved to your waist, pulling you in, as your hands wrapped around his neck, fingers entangling in his hair.

You both pulled away a few moments later, gasping for air. 

“I’ve been yours since the first day I saw you,” you whispered, eyes locked on his.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too. But I think I love your hair more.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglists: @pinchofhoney @targaryenmoony

[aesthetic-babyyy]

Protective~ Dean Winchester imagine

Warnings// angst, fluff and cock blocking

Word count// 1400

(Gif from Pinterest)

You Sam and Dean had just finished a pretty rough ghoul hunt, once you guys had all showered the remnants of the night, dean suggested you guys head out for a few drinks to celebrate, once you got to the bar Dean and you slide into a booth, deans arm wrapping around your shoulders pulling you into his side “you get the first round Sammy” Dean said smirking at his brother, Sam rolled his eyes “fine but you’re next” he said walking to the bar

“So how you feeling after you’re first ghoul sweetheart” you looked up at your boyfriend “well I’ve gotta say I won’t be chasing one for a very long time, much prefer a simple salt and burn” Dean chuckled kissing the side of your head, “alright beers are severed” Sam said sitting down with the drinks “thanks Sammy” you said taking a drink out the bottle

You and the guys were having a great time talking about passed hunts before you’d met them “he just looked at me all upset and said ‘I lost my shoe’ all because he lost the damn rabbits foot” Dean laughed finishing his second beer, “alright my round boys just another beer?”you questioned getting up “yeah thanks Y/N” Sam said “yeah me too thank you sweetheart” you hooded moving to the slightly crowded bar you quickly got the bar tenders attention “hi three beers please” the man nodded “that’ll be 12 bucks gorgeous” he said placing three beers in front of you, you nodded handing him a 20 dollar bill, the bar tender went to get your change leaving you standing for a few minutes

“what’s a beautiful girl like you doing at a place like this” a man grumbled out from one of the bar stools, he looked to be a drunk creep no younger than mid 50s “I’m here with my boyfriend and friend” you said back hoping he’d back off at the boyfriend comment “ah bet your boyfriend doesn’t treat you like I would” the man said moving closer to you “look buddy I’m not interested I’m in a relationship” he didn’t seem too happy with that “you better watch yourself you bitch I’m giving you a choice the only thing you should be saying is yes sir, because that’s the only damn thing you’ll be saying when I’m pounding you in front of your little boyfriend you slut!” he spat out, “is there a problem here miss?” The bartender asked returning with your change “no everything’s fine thanks” you said grabbing the change stuffing it in your pocket before taking the beers back to the winchesters

“Hey sweetheart everything good? You were gone a while” Dean said grabbing his beer and pulling you back to your place at his side “yeah fine just waiting for my change” you answered quietly, you could see the man from the bar staring at you his hand holding his glass tightly in his grasp as he wouldn’t break eye contact “I’m gonna head back to the motel after this one guys I’m pretty tired” you said feeling uncomfortable either the stares the man wa giving you, dean nodded “yeah I think we’ll all head out then, you good with that Sam?” Dean questioned, Sam nodded

Once you guys finished your drinks you made your way to the exit, from the corner of your eye you seen the man get up, following your trail to the exit, starting to feel scared you grabbed deans hand tight, Dean turned to look at you concerned “you okay Y/N? You hands really sweaty” you nodded to answer him too nervous to even speak, you thought the night air would make you feel better but knowing the man was following behind was just making your feel sick, before you could get into baby dean stopping you, both hands on your arms as he looked at you “sweetheart my job is lying for a living, I know somethings bothering you and I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what it is” Dean asked alerting Sam “what’s going on?”

Sighing you looked behind the brothers to find the man staring at you from behind a car “there was a guy at the bar, he freaked me out a little bit I didn’t care too much until he sat staring at me for the last hour so I wanted to leave but he followed us out here” you said, your heart pounding in your chest, Dean got an angry look on his face as he turned searching the parking lot “where the hell is he!” Dean moved to look around finding him quickly, Dean stormed over “hey! The hell do you want jackass? You think you can harass my girlfriend I wouldn’t find out” Dean grabbed the man by his shirt “not my fault she’s a whore man, just wanted a little taste of her sweet p-”Dean didn’t let him finish his sentence before he was released punching him in the face “my nose!” The man yelped but dean wasn’t done yet, Sam was holding you in a hug blocking the fight from your eyes

Once dean was done teaching the man a lesson in how to respect women he walked back over to you and sam “alright he’s down, let’s get back to the motel” Dean said getting in the drivers seat. Once you guys made it back to the motel you followed the brothers back to the room, Sam went into the bathroom leaving you and Dean alone

sighing dean sat on the bed you two would be sharing, he started to wrap his bloody knuckles you let out a shaky breath before sitting beside him and taking his hand “I got it” you said taking out the rubbing alcohol and rubbing it on his wounds, Dean flinched slightly at the sting “why didn’t you tell me earlier?” He asked softly you looked up giving him a small smile “I just didn’t want to bother you, I just didn’t realise how big a creep the guy was till he followed us out” dean nodded “sweetheart if someone or something is ever bothering you I don’t give a rats ass how by or small, you tell me and I will take care of it” you nodded “yeah I will I’m sorry dean” Dean was shaking his head “you have nothing to be sorry for Y/N you did nothing wrong” you wrapped your arms around deans shoulders pulling him to a hug, we wrapped his own around your waist holding you close to him

You pulled away to give him a small kiss, however a small kiss with Dean was never really just a small kiss, this one being no different as Dean was swiping his to tongue along your bottom lip, you parted your lips allowing dean to explore your mouth, you moaned quietly when dean pushed you slightly to lay back on the bed as he moved to lean on top of you as you continued to make out, deans hand was tugging at the hem of your shirt, and just when you were about to take it off the bathroom door opened, the younger Winchester emerged in his pyjama pants and shirt “seriously!” He yelped turning away

Dean sighed moving to stand up “relax Sammy were decent” you chuckled as you moved to get up and get changed in the bathroom, Dean following close behind “seriously don’t guys I don’t want a repeat of the hunt back in Chicago” you giggled “I promise Sammy we’ll keep it PG” you and Dean changed into your sleepwear, Dean sporting the same as sam, minus the shirt, he found them to be annoying when it got too hot in bed, you in a pair of shorts and deans old led zeppelin shirt

When you both emerged from the bathroom Sam was already tucked in for the night, all lights off minus the one in the bathroom, you and Dean made your way to the bed getting in either side Dean quickly grabbed your waist tugging you close enough so you could rest your head on his bare chest and tangle your legs together “we’re definitely getting our own room next hunt” Dean whispered kissing the top of your head, you chuckled at his remark closing your eyes “whatever you say Winchester”

____________________________________________

Hi there!

just a short little Dean Winchester imagine to fill the void

Thanks for reading!

[7brownsuga7]

Can you write a fanfic of yandere jk or taehyung with reader as their daughter in law whose husband can't get her pregnant because he is suffering from Azoospermia (low sperm count) but their family is really strict about continuing their family line, as he is their only son so jk or tae decided to take matter into their own hand. Please consider this!! I am really looking forward to it.

Hey!! Omg I found writing this so fun, I hope you like it as much as I liked writing it! I couldn’t decide on Jk or Tae lol I’m indecisive as fuck.

Tae|JK

Word count: 2k +

Genre + warnings: smut drabble- minors DNI. Smut, angst, unprotected sex, breeding, daddy kink, yandere, infidelity, taboo, forceful, dominance, praise kink, he kind of takes advantage of her??? But consensual

Updated: pt.2 here

“Shhh, you’re doing good sweetheart”

You would have never thought you’d hear those words come out of your father-in-laws mouth, matter of fact you never thought he’d be fucking you in the same room you share with your husband.

When your husband told you about his situation, you couldn’t help but to feel overwhelmed with so many emotions. You sat on your bed crying your eyes out at the situation you and your husband were in. Although it was a personal situation between you and your husband, it also meant that his family line had a low chance of continuing, and you knew how strict his parents were about that. You was currently somewhat home alone, your husband having stormed out and wanting some alone time and his mother out for a dinner with her friends. His father was probably somewhere in his office like he is most of the time.

You muffle your cry with your hand, tears staining your burgundy night dress as you lay back and let your cries sing you to sleep.

During the night after a long and stressful phone call with his son does your father-in-law walk into your room to see you asleep in your dress, bare thighs exposed for his wondering eyes to see. His cock hardens just from the sight of your ass peaking out from under your dress.

You look so innocent and sad. Hurt and lonely. If only you knew of the things he could provide for you. He’d never let you lay here alone, tears staining your cheeks.

He was already furious with his son, yes the situation not being his son’s fault at all, but now he had to take things into his own hands for the sake of continuing his family line. He would never admit it was also a reason to fuck you. Something he’s been longing for since his son brought you to their home. He had an infatuation with you. He’d touch himself just thinking about your pussy wrapped around his cock. The fact that you was so innocent and oblivious to his intentions made him all the more crazed. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to fuck you, it was a miracle waiting to happen.

He reaches the bed, your below him unaware of his cock that hardens in his black slacks. His large hand caresses your leg, feeling the goosebumps that appear instantly. He smiles when your eyes flutter open, his hand coming up to your cheek to softly stroke it.

“I’m here” he coos, sitting down next to you on the bed.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do” you admit. Your eyes watering again just from the mention of the situation. You stare up at him with your wet eyelashes, and all he can think about is how you would look watching him as he shoves his cock down your throat. He knew he’s being insensitive towards the situation, but he can’t help himself to think these thoughts when he’s around you.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ll sort it out” you sniff at his reassuring words. It’s as if you’re talking to your husband right now. The resemblance is so uncanny. The tears that stream down your face are wiped away by his fingers, his suggestive words of, “I know, I know” and “come here” calm you down a bit.

You scoot closer to him, unaware of his intentions as his hands creep up your dress towards your bare pussy. You sniff, holding back a moan as his fingers brush against your wet folds.

“Let me make everything better” his lips brush against your neck. You nod, biting your lip as his finger enters you.

So tight and wet, just as he expected.

His finger works its way in and out of you, his eyes on you as you continue to breathe heavily at the use of his fingers. As much as he wants to continue this, his main goal is to fuck you. To breed you matter of fact. He can’t wait to fill you up, to feel your bare pussy wrapped around his cock as he fucks you. He was pissed that his son had gotten to you first. But he’d be the actual one to breed you and that was more than he can ask for.

“Lay back for me love” he urges, too eager to stretch you out with his cock.

You comply, dress bunched up as you scoot back on the bed. His tall frame leaning over you as he watches you in awe. Your bare pussy open for him to see. It glistening under the dim bedroom lights from your wetness. What he would do to taste you, but he knows he has priorities. Hopefully another day.

His hand moves your legs apart, properly exposing you for his hungry eyes to see. He eagerly unbuckles his belt and allows his cock to breathe from the tight space it was in in his slacks.

He strokes his cock along your folds, collecting your juices before he lets his tip enter your tight pussy. It’s like the air is sucked out of you when the rest of his big, hard cock enters you. Stretching you out just like he wanted. It pushes into you and you lay there wondering how much more of him is left, you can barely take what is left inside you.

Tight.

So tight.

Every inch that pushes into you, stretches you out so gracefully you’re a whimpering mess. He grabs your thighs and pulls you to the edge of the bed. His strokes becoming more hard and fast as you adjust to his size.

“I’ve been waiting for this for so long” he coos.

He can’t believe how good you feel. Your walls closing around him with every stroke. Your tight walls gripping around him has him ready to risk it all. He never knew just how addicting you could be. He’s so eager to fuck you. As each whimper leaves your lips, his hips move at a more forceful speed. He’s unable to hold himself back and he’s not even ashamed of it. He’s not sure if this is the only time he’ll get to fuck you so he wants to make the most out of it before this night comes to an end.

“Shhh, you’re doing good sweetheart”

Your breasts fight to spill out of your dress as his thrusts cause your body to jolt.

You cry.

You cry because of the sting you feel caused by his cock stretching you out. The pleasure you feel making it almost unbearable for you to take any more. His strokes so precise and officiant that your moans turn into cries all together.

You cry because you feel guilty, but it’s too good to stop now.

He sees you cry and wonders why. He’s aware that he’s taken advantage of your weakness, you being fragile has allowed him to take advantage of this situation, and he’s happy that he did. His dreams and fantasies coming true.

“It’s okay, daddy’s got you”

His thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away your tears before he leans down and grabs your thighs, lifting you up with his cock still inside you.

“Please ugh” you choke out as his hands grip onto your ass, lowering you down his long hard length. You try to lift yourself up, unable to take him, but he just lowers you back down at a quicker speed.

“P-please I can’t” his cock continues to penetrate you which leaves you gasping for air, tears still running down your cheeks as he completely takes over.

Your pussy is soaking, running down your thigh and onto his pelvis. The slushing sounds you create prove that.

“Look at how you take my cock so well” his neck bends down slightly to capture your breast in his mouth as he sucks on it. You let out a moan, your pussy clenching around him causing his moves to falter.

“Fuck you’re so tight” he nips at your nipple which causes you to yelp in surprise, especially when he slaps your ass.

He throws you back on the bed. Your dress barely covering your body anymore as your breast spill out from it, the dress bunched up around your waist exposing your lower half to him. You’re a panting mess, not knowing what he’s going to do next as he slowly walks over to the bed, dark eyes watching you like you’re his prey.

“Lay on your stomach and arch your back for me princess”

If only he could have you in every position known to man, he would in a heartbeat. He wants to fuck you in every position his son has had you in. However, time is of the essence.

But when you lay before him, face down ass up, your head resting on your silk bed cover and hands placed helplessly in front of you as he enters you from behind, does he battle with himself to risk everything. Your bare pussy and ass exposed for him to see, and oh was it a sight. He’d only imagined what you’d look like bent over for him, but now he has the honor of having you for the night. His strokes are slow and precise. He’s managing to hit every spot so gracefully it already has your knees ready to give out. His large hands rest on each side of your ass, guiding your ass towards his hard length.

You whimper when he enters you again and again with more force. The way his fingers dance along your bare back have your toes curling and you wonder if you’ll be able to recover from tonight. He readjusts your dress so that it slightly covers your ass, but it only slides back down your back with every move he makes. The way you feel wrapped so tightly around him has him ready to risk it all, your juices coating his cock with every stroke while you grip around him.

“You’re such a good girl, hmm?” He bites his bottom lip as he watches his cock go in and out of you, your pussy gripping onto him in ways that make his head spin. His cock can’t even go all the way in, he chuckles to himself at the thought of you whimpering when he hasn’t even got all of him in you. Your moans and whimpers are like music to his ears, encouraging him to fuck you recklessly.

“Such a good girl letting daddy fuck you like this”.

Your arms stretch out in front of you grasping onto your covers in a somewhat pathetic attempt to relieve yourself from his thrusts. You try to escape, moving your hips forward but with his firm grip on your hips, you’re not going anywhere.

“Don’t run, show me that you can take it”

You’re sensitive and overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure you’re receiving, with the added force it’s a whole new experience for you. You’ve never been fucked like this, even by your husband. You’re unsure if you should even be thinking about him right now with his father fucking you as recklessly as this.

Your moans are muffled by the bed covers , your grip on them tightening as you can feel him in your stomach. Your orgasm is quickly approaching with each thrust. It’s when he grunts and slaps your ass that has you weak, but when he rubs your puckered hole with his thumb, that’s when you lose what’s left of your composure. You start mumbling your words, edging further and further up the bed as you try to escape his cock that continuously rams into you. Pussy clenching as your orgasm subsides, you yelp out when you become overly sensitive.

“Please please please, i”

He pushes you down by your back, forcing you to lay on your stomach, his hand grabs your hips adjusting them so your ass is slightly up. You’re silent as he slowers his pace, providing you with slow strokes that have you lost for words. You’re sure you’re going to cum again. He watches as his cock disappears in you. He can watch you take him all day.

“You’re so wet sweetheart, look at you” you feel his hands grabbing your wrists and holding them in place as he is positioned on top of you, him sliding into you from behind. You’re so fucked out you can’t utter a full sentence, just mumbles and whimpers. He’s so big and he’s stretching you out completely. You’re tired and are surprised that you’re able to take him let alone take him for this long. You collapse on the bed, knees giving out causing you to be laid flat out on the bed. He holds his cock, guiding it in and out of you, watching as your juices mix with your cream coating the base of his cock.

“Fuck y/n” he looks up at the ceiling trying to prolong his orgasm that he knows is approaching. He doesn’t want this to end just yet, but the way you lay in-front of him, your sensitive pussy stretching around him, he knows he’s close.

You both continue in that position, his grunts continuing as he uses both arms to keep himself up. A slap to your ass is delivered before he tells you to turn around. You comply chest rising as you watch him guide his cock along with your entrance. He watches you with low eyes, as you watch him back. Your breaths in sync as you wait for him to slide it back in. And he does, so slowly it’s almost agonising. You both watch as he enters you, you can’t believe how big he is. He stops when he’s mostly inside of you, his hand holding the rest of his length as he guides it in and out. He closes his eyes for a moment, unable to watch your eyes and your lips and the way your face is still stained in tears. You’re intoxicating.

He lifts your legs up so they are both in the air, allowing him more excess to your pussy. What a sight it is, the way it’s swollen and glistens before him. The way it wraps around him so perfectly he’s sure your pussy was made just for him.

He watches you with so much intensity that your eyes flutter closed. “Open them for me, I want you to watch” you nod watching him before you look down and watch each thrust.

You know he’s close when his thrust become more intense, he shoves his cock deep inside you not caring about your sensitivity. His skin collides with yours, creating no room for you to escape his thick length. You can’t believe that your orgasm is approaching again, you don’t know how much more you can take, you’re already fucked out.

His eyes never leave yours, the intensity and lust behind them, and the way he’s buried deep inside you causes shivers to run down your spine as your legs shake. “Good girl, let it out, let it out” he coos as he strokes your cheek.

It all becomes too much for you, your words and breath stuck in your throat. You feel everything so intensely.

“Shh, you got it. Im almost there”

And with a few more strokes, he is because you feel his cock twitch and a warm liquid engulf you. “Fuuuck”. He continues for a moment, riding out his orgasm. Eventually he pulls out, and you both watch as his load drips out from inside of you. He hold his dick in his hand and allows his red sensitive tip to rub against your hole, his cum coating his tip. “Look at that” he smirks.

“I told you I’d make everything better”

[bloatedandalone04]

It Can’t Be That Bad - Part 2

➪the one where bradley fixes his mistake.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, smut, unprotected sex, hair pulling, once again a pain kink, arguments, fighting, descriptions of injuries, jake and bradley brawl for quick a minute, bradley being whipped for you, age gap, oral (f receiving), body worship, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 9.6k | Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

The Bronco was barely in park before Bradley was pulling out the keys and swinging the door open. He stuffs them into his pocket, along with his phone and wallet, as he enters the Hard Deck, his free hand fumbling to take off his aviators. His eyes scan the busy bar, looking for any glimpse of you.

After a full sweep of the room, he spots you over by the bar, phone in hand and a smile on your face that was so clearly forced, Bradley felt his heart clench at the sight of it. He stopped short of reaching you when he clued in to the person next to you, the man being the same one who introduced you to him in the first place. “Fucking Hangman,” he muttered under his breath when he saw the way Jake inched closer to you.

You were sitting on a stool while Jake loomed over you, both of you holding a beer in your hands. From Bradley’s point of view, you and Jake looked like a couple who were having a hard time trying not to jump each other’s bones right here and now, and an ugly feeling began creeping up his throat. 

Bradley supposed that was what you and he looked like when you ventured out to the bar together, back before he fucked up and stupidly let you go. 

That was the nice way of putting it. 

He rejected you. You gave him your heart and he threw it back at you without a second thought. He pushed you away without thinking about how it would make you feel, despite him feeling the exact same way, perhaps even stronger. 

Just the sight of you had all the air leaving his lungs. You are so beautiful and so caring and genuine to those around you. How could he ever let you believe you weren’t good enough for him? 

The last six weeks were ones he never wanted to experience ever again. He hated having no one to come home to, and he hated how it could’ve easily been you waiting on that dock for him, had he returned your feelings. The next time he was deployed, he desperately wanted you to be there for him when he got back. He wanted to come home to you. 

Without really having a plan in mind, Bradley made his way over to the bar, the crowded space making it a bit tough. He was a big guy, though, and used it to his advantage on the rare occasions when he felt he needed to. Like right now. 

He pushed past Bob, who had moved to greet him, but Bradley just gave him a quick pat on the back as he passed him. When he was a few feet away, he met Jake’s eyes and watched as he leaned down towards you.

Before Jake could give you the warning that he was right behind you, Bradley closed the distance and moved to stand on the other side of you. “Y/n,” he said, nearly breathless at being near you again after six weeks without you. 

You stiffen and glance over at him before turning to Jake and glaring at him. “Thanks for the warning,” you mutter and Jake just held his hands up in defense, making no move to walk away and give you some alone time with Bradley, like he so desperately wanted. 

“Hey, I tried,” he defended himself, reaching over and grabbing his bottle of beer. “Rooster’s fast when he needs to be, I guess.”

“Y/n,” Bradley said again and ignored Jake as he brought your attention back to him, refraining from placing his hand on the small of your back like he always did when you were beside him at the bar. “Can we talk, please?”

You looked up at him with a near-blank expression before sighing, running the tip of your index finger around the rim of the bottle in front of you. “I don’t think we need to, Bradley,” you answered and he furrowed his brows.

“Why not?” He asked, shaking his head slightly when you began to stand up. “You said we’d-”

“I didn’t,” you cut him off as you stepped backwards and towards Jake, who just placed his hand on your hip, surely knowing it would make Bradley see red. “I said I’d see you tonight, not that I would talk to you. I didn’t come here with you, Bradley, so there’s no reason I need to talk to you.”

Your words felt like a punch directly to his heart, and he just stared at you when Jake guided you away from the bar and towards the pool tables. He stayed still, his eyes burning a hole in the back of Jake’s head as the man showed off just how good he was at the game.

“Hey, Rooster,” Penny’s kind voice said from beside him. “Want your usual?”

But Bradley just shook his head, never tearing his eyes away from the scene in front of him. Fucking. Hangman. “Not tonight,” he answered as Jake pulled you into his side, mirroring the way Bradley did just six weeks prior. “Give me something stronger.”

Six shots and two beers later, and Bradley was just now starting to feel the effects of the alcohol in his system. He wasn’t planning on drinking much tonight, not when he was so sure he’d actually get the chance to explain himself. But you had been glued to Jake all night, similar to the way you used to be before he introduced you to Bradley and you then became attached to his hip, instead. 

And Bradley just watched. He felt like just another guy at the bar who was jealous of someone else’s relationship. Is this how the other men who frequented the Hard Deck felt when they saw you and Bradley all over each other? 

Was he seriously just another guy?

That’s exactly what he felt like as he sipped on his beer, glaring at the way Jake’s hand slowly but surely inched further down your back. He bit back a disapproving grunt, knowing Jake had to be doing this just to rile him up.

He introduced you as his friend, and now that you weren’t associated with Bradley anymore, Jake was suddenly all over you? 

He felt a sick feeling creeping up his throat as he thought about all the times Jake had taken you to the Hard Deck and acted like how he currently is now with you while Bradley was deployed. 

He assumed it had been more than once at this point, because no one seemed too fazed by the pair of you and seemed to have forgotten that it had been Bradley with you for nearly six months straight. 

He knew he didn’t have the right to be jealous, but he was. 

He hated the fact that you could’ve so easily been with him right now since you had made it clear that you were willing to wait for him because you were falling for him.

God, he had never felt this pathetic in all his years of life. He was a mere few weeks away from turning thirty five and he had shut down the one girl he could actually picture himself settling down with, and now he was drinking alone at a bar, staring at said girl as if he didn’t already have his chance with her. 

Nat had shown up at some point and tried to get him to talk to her, but he just gave her short answers and didn’t hold any conversations. She grew even more frustrated with him and ended up leaving her spot next to him so she could throw darts with Fanboy. 

Bradley had just finished off his third beer when he saw Jake lean down to press his lips to the spot behind your ear, making you laugh quietly as you as you playfully pushed him away.

Yeah, he’s seen enough. 

Bradley threw a few twenties on the bar before standing up from the stool, his body swaying at the sudden movement. He stumbled his way over to you, ignoring the flash of dread that covered your face as he wrapped his fingers around your wrist. “We need to talk,” he said sternly, keeping his eyes on you and pulling you away from Jake. 

“Why? Are you looking for another night of just fun?” You asked as you pulled your arm from his grip once you were standing on the deck outside. “That’s all it was, right?”

“That’s not all it was,” he muttered, the cool air not doing much to calm him down like he hoped it would.  

You narrow your eyes at him. “But you said-”

“I know what I said!” He cut you off, instantly regretting his inability to keep calm during a moment like this when he saw the way you flinched back slightly. He breathed out heavily, gently taking your hand in his as he continued, “I know, okay? Trust me, it’s all I’ve been thinking about for the last six weeks.”

He thought since you hadn’t pulled your hand away from his yet, that maybe you were actually willing to give him a chance to explain himself, but your next words proved him wrong, “Wow, really? Me too,” you said sarcastically. “Do you know how humiliating it was for me to explain to Jake that I had told you how I felt, just to have you throw it back at me as if you didn’t care at all? It was mortifying, Bradley, to tell you that I was falling for you and have you act as if it was the worst thing you had ever heard.”

You pulled your hand away from him and he swayed slightly at the fast movement. “I never wanted you to feel that way, Y/n/n,” he tried, but you just placed your hand flat against his chest.

“And you’re drunk,” you give him a firm push, successfully putting a decent amount of space between the two of you. “You won’t even remember this tomorrow, so why do I even bother?”

“Please, Y/n,” he begged, trying to step towards you but you just shook your head. “I missed you so much. I really, really want to talk things through with you.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” was all you muttered as you walked towards the stairs. “If Jake asks where I am, tell him I went home. I don’t need him worrying about me more than he already is.”

Bradley wanted to spit something out in spite, but held back as he watched your retreating form head off in the direction of your car. With a heavy sigh and another urge to down the first drink he saw, he headed back into the bar. 

As he made his way towards Nat, Jake stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. “Rooster,” he said over the music. “Where did Y/n go? Don’t tell me she’s outside waiting for you after believing whatever bullshit story you told her.”

Bradley muttered something under his breath as he turned to face the man. “She went home,” he replied, shoving Jake’s hand off his shoulder with more force than he needed to. 

“Hey, man, don’t get mad at me,” Jake said with an eye roll. “I’m the one who looked after her while you were away. I’m the one who made her smile again when she came back from dropping you off in tears.”

Bradley felt his skin heating up, not wanting to talk to the man anymore, and especially not about you. “Jake,” he warned. “Don’t.”

But Jake only laughed. “Don’t what, Rooster? What?” He asked with a certain hostility to his voice. “Do you know how it makes me feel to know I practically pushed her into your arms and had to watch as she got her heart broken? You might not be her friend, Bradshaw, but I am. And you’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here tonight and asking to speak with her.”

Taking another deep breath, Bradley tried to ignore all the eyes that were beginning to stare at him as the two aviators glared at each other. “I’m serious, Hangman, lay off,” 

You were right, he was drunk and not in the right state of mind to think rationally at this point. He needed to leave now before he did something he regretted. Before he did something that would further fuel your distaste for him.

“I don’t think I will,” Jake continued to push him. “See, you can be an dick to me all you want, but being a dick to Y/n is where I have a problem. She might want to forget it ever happened, but I won’t let you forget just how nice of a girl you let slip away. Truthfully, you never deserved her, and I’m mad at myself for introducing her to you, seeing how it worked out so well.”

“Enough,” Bradley nearly yelled, noticing that someone had stopped the music and that most of the patrons had gathered around at this point, including Nat, who gave him a look of warning. “Back off, Seresin, I mean it.”

He went to turn away, but Jake had other plans. “Or what? You gonna publicly humiliate me, too? Or is that just something you like to do to Y/n-” Bradley didn’t hear the rest as he quickly turned back around and punched Jake square in the nose. 

Jake stumbled back while Nat rushed forward to pull on Bradley’s arm. “Jesus, Bradley, are you crazy?!” She asked as she turned him to face her, but as soon as he took his eyes off Jake, the blond swung back and knocked him back a few feet.

Nat’s grip on Bradley loosened as he stumbled back, his hand reaching up to grip the side of his face as his head began to spin. 

Fanboy and Coyote held Jake back while Nat grabbed Bradley again. Penny rushed in and stood between the men with angry eyes and a bite to her tone. “Both of you, out. Now,” she said in a voice that left no room for arguments. 

Jake just glared at Bradley as he left the Hard Deck, Fanboy following quickly after him. 

Nat wrapped her arm around her best friend’s middle as she guided him out to the parking lot. “You’re wasted, Bradley,” she scolded as she led him over to her car. 

He narrowed his eyes, still holding his face with one hand while his other gripped her shoulder. “Where are we going? I didn’t park over here,” he mumbled and heard her scoff in response. 

“You didn’t think I was going to let you drive home after all this, did you?”

Bradley stopped, making her stop as well as he turned to give her an annoyed look. “I am not leaving my Bronco here overnight,” he stated and she rolled her eyes, holding out her free hand. 

“Fine,” she grunted. “Give me your keys. I’ll drive you home.”

Bradley did as he was told, placing the keys in her hand as he asked, “What about your car?”

“I’ll just crash at your place tonight and you can drive me home in the morning before work so I can change. I’ll pick up my car later,” she mumbled, pulling the passenger door open for him but leaving him to get himself in the car as she made her way to the driver’s side. 

After he hoisted himself into the car, Bradley rested his head against the window, the cool glass soothing the burn he felt on the right side of his face.

As Nat started the Bronco and set off in the direction of his house, she let the tense atmosphere grow thicker and thicker until she couldn’t hold herself back anymore. “What were you thinking? Going off on Hangman like that? You know how protective he is over her, there was no way you were winning that one,”

Bradley just shrugged, his eyes feeling heavy as he stared out the dark window. “I miss her, Nat,” he murmured. “I’m in love with her.”

Nat looked over at him in surprise. She knew he felt strongly about you, and it was obvious to anyone with eyes that he loved you, but to witness him finally admit it to himself was a bit shocking. “Have you told her that?” She asked, lowering her voice as she realized he was letting himself be vulnerable with her. 

“I wanted to, as soon as I got there,” he lifted his head and sat up a bit straighter, despite his body begging him to let it rest. “I was going to, but she was with Jake. She looked happy. She didn’t want to talk to me.”

Nat sighed heavily. “So make her talk to you,”

“I tried,” he rasped, his throat dry and his face sore. He made a mental note to never take the first swing at Jake Seresin ever again. “I tried to explain myself, but she just wanted to leave at that point.”

“Well, obviously,” Nat muttered, pulling onto his street. “You got drunk and couldn’t keep your eyes off her all night. She probably thought you just wanted to sleep with her again.”

When she pulled into his driveway, she turned off the car and moved so she was facing him. He looked back at her with tired eyes and a red cheek. “I want to be with her, Nat. I want us to be together,”

Her eyes stared into his for a few seconds before she sighed and pulled out the keys. “So tell her that. Sober, this time. Tell her everything, and don’t let her leave without her knowing how you really feel. I bet she still feels the same way,”

Bradley scoffed as he blindly reached for the handle. “Right,” he mumbled as he got out of the car. “I’m sure she’s still in love with the guy who walked away after she gave him her heart, and then that same guy gave her every mixed signal in return.”

Nat rolled her eyes as she got out of the car as well and helped him into the house. She led him down the hall to his room, where she pushed him down onto his covers and lifted his legs so he was laying down. “You need to tell her, Bradley,” she said quietly as she pulled his boots off and dropped them to the floor. “I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, alright? Everyone has. If you could just admit your feelings to one another, you could be great together.”

Bradley looked at his best friend with hooded eyes, completely vulnerable as he wore his heart on his sleeve. “What if she doesn’t want me back?” He asked in defeat, not wanting to think about the possibility that he had truly blown his one shot with you. “What if she doesn’t want me anymore?”

Nat stared down at him as she sat next to him, trying to think of what to say that would make him feel even a little bit better. “Then at least you’ll know,” she offered, watching the way his shoulders dropped in dread. “And I’ll be right here, scolding you for letting her get away, but also applauding you for not going down without a fight.”

She leaned forward and kissed the mark on his face from Jake’s fist. 

“Literally,”

Bradley huffed out a laugh as he watched her stand up and turn off the lights before disappearing down the hall towards the guest room. 

She was right, like always. 

He needed to tell you how he felt, he needed to tell you what he should’ve told you that day on the dock.

But most of all, he just needed you. 

-

Bradley was met with a bruised cheek when he was finally able to pull himself out of bed the next morning. His head was pounding and his throat was dry, making him think back to his college days where he would drink into the early hours of the morning and wake up with countless hangovers. 

He felt awful, similar to how he felt back when he was a twenty year old frat boy who had no idea what to do with his life. 

Waking up in his own bed without you felt foreign. He had gotten so used to falling asleep with you in his arms and waking up with you, he didn’t know what to do with himself. 

For what felt like the millionth time, Bradley wished his parents were here. He wanted to be able to confide in his mom, and be chewed out by his dad, then watch his mom chew out his dad for chewing him out. 

He knew that if they were still here, he wouldn’t be in this situation because both his mom and his dad would’ve called him out for stringing you along like he did, way before he even realized his true feelings for you.

Since he had fallen asleep on top of the covers, he didn’t need to worry about making the bed. He left it the way you had neatly made it up the day you drove him to the carrier ship, numbly pulling on his work clothing before grabbing his phone. Nat had thankfully put it on charge, so he had a full battery to go into work with. 

When he made his way to the kitchen, he found his best friend sitting at the island, a coffee mug in one hand and a piece of toast in the other. She gave him a quick wave as she slowly slid the second coffee mug across the counter. “Drink up, Roozie,” she said as she finished her toast, gathering up all the crumbs in her palm before brushing them off in the sink. 

Bradley grunted as he sipped on the coffee, his head still pounding. “Think I’m going to need more than one of these to get me through today,” he muttered, eyeing Nat as she wandered around his house in the clothing she wore last night. “I have some clothes you could wear, if you want.”

She shook her head. “No, thanks. Save that offer for when you win Y/n back and she raids your closet again,” she winked, making him groan quietly at the image of you wearing his clothes. “I’m not trying to rub salt in the wound, here, but when she wore your shirt at the Hard Deck the day before your deployment? I can’t believe you didn’t make things official right then and there.”

Bradley finished his coffee, setting the mug down in the crumb-littered sink as he turned to face her. “Don’t remind me,” 

She held her hands up. “Right, sorry,” she said before grabbing her phone from off the counter. “Anyway, we should get going. The sooner you’re done with work, the sooner you can work on getting your girlfriend back.”

She was testing him, but he just shook his head, not bothering to correct her as he grabbed his keys from where she threw them onto the table beside the door last night. 

At work, Bradley laid low for a while, only talking to those who talked to him, and avoiding Jake like the plague. He was doing a pretty decent job, until he ran into him in the cafeteria. 

Jake was sporting a bruised nose, and Bradley wished he could find joy in the fact that he did that, but he knew that when you saw it, you’d be even more pissed with him than you already are. 

Bradley also knew he looked worse, but that was only because he had thrown the first punch. Just another thing that was entirely his fault. 

He didn’t say anything to Jake as he walked past him and ended up leaving the cafeteria altogether, pulling his phone out on his way to the tarmac. He clicked on your contact and brought the phone up to his ear before he could talk himself out of it. 

Really, he was embarrassed about how he acted last night, but he also wanted to forget about it all and get you back. If that meant owning up to his dumb actions from the previous evening, then so be it. 

He braced himself against the side of the building by placing his palm flat against the wall, his grip on his phone tightening the longer he was met with the obnoxious ringing sound.

Just as he was about to hang up and call again, you answered with a sharp, “What?” 

Though your voice wasn’t super friendly at the moment, Bradley couldn’t help but let a feeling of hope wash over him because you had actually picked up. Sure, you took your sweet time doing it, but you still answered his call. “Hey, Y/n/n,” he said in a much softer tone than he used last night. “I can’t talk for long because I’m at work, but I just needed to say something.”

You waited a heartbeat or two before replying with a cautious, “Okay? What?” 

He huffed out a breath he didn’t know he was holding before he opened his mouth in an apology, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I was an asshole last night, and I don’t blame you for not wanting to talk to me. You were right, I was drunk and had no business trying to get you to talk with me when I was like that,” he said in one go, stumbling over a few of his words, but continuing nonetheless, “And I’m sorry for what I said to you back on the dock. I didn’t realize it then, but you told me everything I wanted to hear, I just didn’t know how to deal with it.”

It was silent on your end for a bit, and he could picture you chewing on your bottom lip as you tried to think of what to say to him. A few more seconds pass before you finally break the silence. “Well, thanks for apologizing,” your voice was much quieter than before, and you sounded much more willing to actually talk to him. 

And he wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to keep you talking to him. “Like I said, I’m at work…but I really want to see you later, explain why I said what I did and how much of a fucking idiot I’ve been, if you’ll let me,” he nearly whispered the last part. “Come over later? Please? I promise, it’s not just me wanting to have fun with you, because that was never all it was for me. I can’t believe I even said that.”

You sighed and he prepared himself for the rejection he knew he deserved, but you surprised him as you asked, “Six, right? That’s when you’re off?”

Bradley pushed himself off the wall and looked around at the empty tarmac before answering, “Yeah, yes,” he quickly spoke. “Six.”

“Okay,” you murmured, your next words making a grin break out on his face. “I’ll be there for seven, maybe seven thirty if I begin to have second thoughts.”

And then you hung up, and Bradley was left standing by himself, smiling like he had just won the lottery, when in reality, he had just won something so much better. 

-

After quickly dropping Nat off at the Hard Deck so she could get her car, Bradley was speeding home in a way that was similar to when he floored it when you informed him you’d see him there yesterday. 

He quickly unlocked the door and stripped on his way to his bathroom for a shower, not wanting the way he had started to sweat after you confirmed that you’d come over later be the first thing you were met with when you arrived. 

He switched his shirt probably around four times before settling on a simple black tee and dark jeans. He paced the length of his living room for nearly twenty minutes before stopping abruptly and pulling out his phone to check the time. 

It was nearing seventy thirty, and Bradley began to think you really were having second thoughts, but he wasn’t able to dwell on it for long before he heard the sounds of knocking coming from his front door. 

He pocketed his phone and made his way to the door within three strides, pulling it open to reveal you in a cute oversized tee that was tucked into your jean shorts. It was similar to the way you looked when he took you to the Hard Deck, and while he knew you thought it was just a casual outfit, Bradley thought you never looked better. 

But then again, he found you hot in any kind of clothing, so he was a bit biased. 

“Hi,” he said when he opened the door, trying not to let his eyes wander too much. 

“Hi,” you said back, hesitantly meeting his eye with a forced smile that faltered when you caught sight of the bruise on his cheek. If you wanted to say anything about it, you held back and he could appreciate your ability to bite your tongue when you needed to. “Sorry, I really didn’t know if I was coming tonight.” You add when he stepped aside and allowed you to enter his house. 

He closed the door behind you, following you into the living room as he shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m glad you’re here,”

You slowly sat down on the couch, awkwardly gazing up at him as if you had no business being there. As if he hadn’t fucked you into the very cushions you were sat on more times than he could count on one hand. As if he hadn’t blown off plans with his friends so he could hold you on this couch while you watched movie after movie instead. 

You bit your lip as you thought of what to say, and Bradley had to look away quickly before you really began to think he just wanted you here so you could get him off. “So….how was your day?”

Had things really become that bad? To the point where that was the only thing you could think of asking him?

“It was fine,” he answered as he moved to sit down next to you, leaving a few inches of space between your thigh and his. You didn’t look uncomfortable yet, so he safely assumed you had no problem with him slightly invading your personal space. “How was yours?”

Oh, yeah. This was bad.

“It was fine,” you repeated his answer, and you quickly realized that as you added, “Yeah, it was good.”

“Good,” someone kill him now. This was not how he wanted to start this night off with you. 

Before he could mentally call himself out on how dumb he was acting, you asked him, “Can I ask what happened to your face?” Your tone held a sliver of humor, a teasing smile on your lips that quickly had the awkward tension begin to dissolve. 

He laughed and scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, it happened last night,”

You nodded, raising a brow when he didn’t continue. “What, did you run face first into a door or something?”

“No, Jake punched me,” he said and watched the way your small grin dropped and how your eyes widened. You open your mouth in concern, but he quickly added, “After I punched him.” 

Your concerned expression drops even quicker as you break eye contact with him and run your tongue along the underside of your teeth. “Uh,” you refrain from completely losing your cool before you heard what exactly went down. “Why, exactly, did you punch him?”

When you didn’t turn to look at him again, Bradley shrugged. “Because you came with him and not me,” 

That had you turning to look over at him. “What?” You asked in disbelief. “Seriously? You were jealous?”

He sat up a bit straighter as he began to feel like he was being interrogated. “Yeah, I was,” he answered, cutting you off before you could even say anything, “He kept making very valid points to me about how I fucked things up and how I never deserved you in the first place, and he was making too much sense so I punched him.” 

You squinted at him but then suddenly laughed when you realized he was being serious. “Oh, my God, Bradley,” you scolded. “You can’t just go around punching people because they were making too much sense, especially Jake.”

“I was drunk,” he weakly defended himself, but sighed right alongside you when you gave him an unimpressed look. “I know that’s not an excuse.” 

“You’re right,” you agreed, fighting back a dumb grin at the fact that you had actually managed to make him jealous without even trying to. “It’s not.”

Bradley shook his head as he, too, fought off an embarrassed smile. “I was just so unbelievably jealous when I walked in and saw you under his arm, because I knew that could’ve been me had I not turned you down,”

You look away quickly as the memory of that day comes spiraling back. “So…why did you?” You asked quietly as you placed with the silver ring you wore on your right index finger. “Turn me down? Was it really because I’m too young for you? Because I read too much into things?”

“No,” he quickly answered, turning his body towards yours. “God, no, that wasn’t it at all. I was just…an idiot, to put it simply. I was too afraid to give in and admit to myself that I felt the exact same way that you did.”

“But why?” You asked and lifted your gaze to meet his. “Why were you afraid? It’s just me.”

“I know,” he held back on referring to you with one of the many pet names he had given you during the last six months. “And it wasn’t you, I promise. This is all on me and my stupid trust issues and my inability to realize just how good I had it until it was gone…until you were gone.”

You press your lips into a thin line as you process his words. “You could’ve just told me that, instead of making me feel like I was just one big mistake to you,” 

Bradley felt his heart crack at that, a heat pooling in his bones as he realized just how much his words truly affected you. “You are not a mistake,” he said, sounding more serious than he had ever sounded before. “You are one of the best things that has ever happened to me, and Jake was right, I never deserved to have you in the way I did.”

“Bradley-”

“No, it’s true. We were so fucking good together, and it felt so right with you, and all it took for me to fuck it up was you admiting what we both already knew; that it was so much more than just us hooking up,” he was surprised how easy it was for him to open up to you, seeing as the only other person he could be vulnerable with was Nat, but he knew you wouldn’t make him feel bad for showing you this side of him. “There was something there between us, and there still is for me, and I’m so sorry I let you believe that there wasn’t.”

Your eyes flickered all over his face and you thought back to how differently he looked at you six weeks ago. Back then he looked so cold and came off as arrogant, but now he looked genuine, like he truly meant every word he told you. Maybe that was why you felt yourself beginning to break down the walls you had put up the second he had broken your heart. “So, what do you feel between us now? How do you feel about me?”

When Bradley met your eyes, he saw that same vulnerability you had when you confessed your feelings for him. You were giving him the second chance he had wanted for weeks now, and he would not let you get away again. 

He took your hand in his as his knee brushed yours. “I feel that, given the chance to prove myself to you, we could be just as good together as we were before. No, we could be even better,” he emphasized the last word and watched as the last bit of reluctance faded from your eyes. “And as for how I feel about you? I don’t think I’m falling for you.”

When he felt your grip on his hand loosen, and saw the way your eyes pricked with unshed tears, he quickly moved closer to you. 

“I know I’m in love with you,” he added, “And I have been for half a year now.”

A second or two passes before a big grin spreads across your face, and you reach up with your free hand to grip the side of his face, letting your thumb brush against his scars. “You’re in love with me?” You asked, desperate to know he wasn’t just messing with you in hopes to get you back to how things were before. “You’re really in love with me?”

Bradley just nodded, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand as he said the thing he should’ve a month and a half ago, “I love you,” 

You smile again and refrain from jumping on him right then and there. 

“And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way,” he adds, looking down at your joined hands and missing the way your brows furrowed in disbelief. “I can wait, I just needed to tell you that-”

You cut him off by leaning forward and pressing your lips to his in a kiss that leaves you both feeling dizzy. “Are you kidding me?” You against his mouth, removing your hand from his in order to grip the back of his neck. “Of course I love you. I have for months.”

Bradley was barely able to grin back at you before your mouth was covering his once again, and his hands were gripping your waist and pulling you onto his lap. “I missed you so much,” he murmured in between kisses. “I regretted what I said the second I saw you crying and I was too far away to do anything about it. It felt like I had left my heart back on that dock with you.”

You push him so he’s sitting back against the couch, your knees pressing into the cushions on either side of him as you straddle his lap. “So,” you pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth, laughing afterwards when he quickly guided you into another one as you pulled away. “You don’t think I’m too young and immature for you?” 

Bradley closed his eyes when he felt your lips latch onto his neck, groaning as you began to suck a mark onto his skin. “Fuck no,” he answered, slipping his hands into the back pockets of your shorts and pulling your hips forward to create the smallest bit of friction. “You’re more mature than most of the people I work with.”

You hum in approval, running your tongue over the fresh mark he would proudly wear at work tomorrow. “And you’re okay with us being in two different places in our lives?”

“I don’t care where we are,” he confirmed, guiding your lips back to his in a bruising kiss. “Just as long as I’m with you.”

“Good answer,” you kiss him again as your fingers begin to work on the zipper of his jeans. 

“Wait,” he reluctantly pulls away from your mouth, his hold on your hips making you halt your mission on his zipper. 

“What’s wrong?” You quickly ask, worried you’d overstepped a boundary without realizing it.

But Bradley just playfully scoffed at you, lifting you up and turning so you were laying against the couch and he was hovering over you. He unbuttoned your shorts and pulled them down your legs, a deep groan leaving the back of his throat when he caught sight of the black lace that covered your core from him. “You just told me you love me and gave me a second chance,” he stated as he pressed an open mouth kiss to your inner thigh. “Nothing could be wrong after that.”

You stifle a quiet laugh, a moan slipping out instead when he placed a kiss to your clothed clit.

His fingers pulled down the lace and dropped the fabric to the floor next to your shorts as he muttered, “It’s been way too long since I tasted you,” before he began to devour you like a starved man. 

He supposed he was as he missed the sweet taste that only belonged to you so much. 

Your head leaned back against the decorative pillow on the armrest of the couch, your hand instinctively going straight to his hair. Bradley groaned against you at the subtle tug he received, growing harder in his jeans as he pulled your legs so they’re resting over his shoulders. 

The vibration had you clenching around nothing, a low whine escaping your parted lips. “Bradley,” you gasped quietly when he nudged your folds apart with his nose before licking a flat strip up the center of you. 

“Say my name again,” he softly demanded, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you even closer to his awaiting tongue. “Who’s making you feel good right now?”

“You,” it came out as a breath when he wrapped his lips around your clit, and you clenched tightly around nothing. “It’s you, Bradley. Fuck.”

“That’s right, baby,” he praised and the name had your eyes squeezing shut. “You’re so good for me, taste so fucking good.” 

Butterflies erupted in your body at his sweet but absolutely filthy words. “Bradley,” you nearly whispered, tugging a bit harder on his hair as you knew it would drive him crazy. “I missed you.”

Like you expected he would, a deep growl once again sent vibrations up your body and once again had you clenching around nothing. “I missed you, too, sweet girl, fuck, did I ever,” he muttered against your throbbing clit, the soft graze of his teeth making your breath hitch in your throat. “I missed you for six weeks straight, missed you when I got home and saw that you had taken out all your things you had in here. I want you to put it all back and never take them out again.”

You whimpered at his words and the possessiveness that laced them. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were asking me to move in with you,” you tried to make your voice sound teasing, but you were completely at his mercy right now and not even close to being in control.   

“Good idea,” he replied and your heart skipped a beat at what he was insinuating. You didn’t have time to dwell on what he meant by that before he was continuing, “Move in with me, please?”

Bradley knew he was moving too fast, but he felt as if he had already wasted so much time being away from you the last six weeks, he didn’t want to waste anymore. He needed you in his life, wanted to pick up on your habits and come home to a house full of yours and his things. 

He wanted to share his life with you in all the ways he didn’t before. He wouldn’t fuck this up again, and he wanted you to know just how serious he is about you and how serious he is about starting an official relationship with you.

You could hardly focus on what he was asking you to do. His tongue had slid back down your folds and penetrated you just slightly, your wetness coating the muscle as he lapped at you. 

He knew it wasn’t fair to ask you that while he was currently tongue fucking you, but in all fairness, you were the one who technically brought it up. “Please,” he begged against your heat. “Say you’ll move in with me, spend every night with me in our own bed, in our own house.”

His offer only sounded better and better, almost as good as his mouth felt against your throbbing clit. “Bradley,” 

“We’d be together everyday,” he rasped and you practically came from just his promises. When his mouth was back on you a second later, he grinned at the extra wetness he felt and took pride in the way he got you off at the idea of moving in together. He licked you clean before moving back up your body and hovering over you. “It could be like this every night.”

You moan quietly when he presses a soft kiss to your mouth. 

He ended it all too quickly as he slowly licked his lips that still tasted like you before asking, “So, what do you say?”

“Yes,” you were finally able to properly answer him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and pulling him closer to you. “Yes, I’ll move in with you.”

You share a couple more heated kisses before you pull away and gaze up at him with an unreadable emotion swimming in your eyes. Bradley caught on to the sudden change, and he reached his hand up to caress the side of your face. “What’s wrong?”

Shaking your head, you huff quietly and gently bump your nose against his. “Nothing,” you answer. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just…This is all I’ve ever wanted for months. It’s hard to believe it’s actually happening.”

Bradley physically felt his heart skip a beat as he thought about all the pain he had put you through, and not even as recent as six weeks ago. He had unknowingly strung you along, played with your heart and allowed you to think this whole thing was purely sexual. 

He needed to assure you that this is real, that his feelings for you are real and genuine. “Baby,” he murmured, capturing your lips in a deep kiss as he slowly ground his hips against yours, the cool metal of his zipper rubbing against your pulsing core making you see stars behind your closed eyelids. “It’s happening. You and me, us. I love you and I’m so sorry for fucking things up so badly between us.”

You tug at the fabric of his shirt and give him a small smile, brushing your lips against his. “It’s okay,” you whisper. “We have each other now, right?”

“Right,” he confirmed and that was all you needed to hear before your shaking hands were pulling the black fabric off his upper body. 

The sight of his toned chest and abs on full display had you holding back a moan, your lip getting caught between your teeth as your eyes raked over his damn near flawless body. 

Bradley’s hand that was on your face moved so his thumb was slipping past your lips, and he watched with a slack jaw as you sucked it in deeper, your tongue running along the underside of it. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” he really didn’t understand how a guy like him ended up with a girl like you, but he was done questioning it as you clearly felt the exact same way about him. You love him, and that’s all he needed to know.

“I think you’re talking about yourself,” you say as you press your lips to the skin of his neck. “You’re so attractive, Bradley, you could get me off with just a look.” Then you were sucking his skin, similar to the way you were sucking his thumb just a few seconds earlier. 

He grunted at the stinging sensation of the hickey you left on his neck, right next to the other one from earlier in the night. “That’s it, sweet girl,” he praised as he lifted your shirt over your head, your bra being pulled from your body quickly after. “Mark me up, show everyone that I belong to you.”

You gasp out in need, pulling his mouth back to yours as your hands frantically push down his jeans and boxer briefs. “Mine,” you whimper against his lips, feeling him hum in confirmation. 

“Yours, baby,” he replied, wrapping your legs around his waist as he teased your soaking entrance. “All yours.”

Then he was pushing into you. Your walls stretched around him and took him in perfectly, making his head fall against your shoulder as he got used to the feeling of you around him again after so long. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling out only halfway before burying himself deep within you once again. “God, baby, you feel so good.”

His words release more butterflies all over your body and you clench around him, your greedy walls sucking him in even deeper. “Go slow,” you request in a quiet voice, making him lift his head to meet your eyes. 

Really, he was fine with fucking you into the cushion with enough force to break the springs, and he was also fine with loving your body with his own. “You want me to go slow?” He asked as he pulled out all the way then sunk right back in. “Fuck you nice and slow, like this?”

When he repeated the movement a couple times, you nod quickly and reach your hands up so they’re in his hair. “Yeah,” you breathe out, connecting your lips in a barely-there kiss before saying, “Just like that. I want to feel every inch of you in me.”

Bradley’s hips stuttered at that, breaking the slow pace for a quick second as he placed his forearm against the cushion next to your head. “Fuck, baby, you can’t say things like that and expect me to not fuck you hard into this couch.” 

You laughed quietly, and the sound only spurred him on as he set the slow pace once again. “You need to gain some self control, Bradley,” you purred into his ear and he was once again refraining from absolutely destroying your core. 

“I can’t,” he said as he began to place kisses all over your collarbones and shoulders. “Not when I have you wrapped around me, not when you’re taking me so well. Fuck, look at you.”

You give him a teasing smile that fades quickly when he sucks the skin of your throat. After half a year with him, you’ve noticed he seems to have a favorite spot on your neck where he likes to kiss you and leave physical proof of his mouth being there. 

The last time you felt his lips on that spot was when he got you off so good before taking you to the Hard Deck, where you showed off the hickey he left on you. 

“I can’t believe you’re mine,” he muttered, mostly to himself as he gazed down at your saliva coated skin. “After everything, after I fucked things up, you’re still mine.”

You hum, wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing him closer to you, making him reach even deeper within you. “I always was yours,” you confessed and felt the way his grip tightened on you. 

“But,” he grunted as his hips rocked into yours in a slow rhythm, that sick feeling of jealousy creeping back into him, despite him being very aware of his current position of being buried within you. “You were with Jake last night-”

“But my heart was always with you,” you cut him off and noticed the way he seemed to relax at your words. “My heart was still yours, even after you broke it.” You give him a teasing grin in hopes he wouldn’t take it too hard, but this was Bradley, and he was a pretty emotional guy when it came down to certain things.

While you had given him all the reassurance he needed, he was still feeling so awful for how he treated you, and he wanted to make it up to you. He wanted you to forget about it, forget that dumb side of him who didn’t understand what he was saying. 

“I’m not going to do that ever again,” he promised, jerking his hips a bit roughly but not picking up the pace. “I’m going to treat you so well, be so good to you all the time. You’re going to grow so fucking sick of me, I swear.”

You would’ve laughed, but the sharp snaps of his thrusts had you getting lost in the feeling of him. “‘S all I’ve wanted,” you whimpered when he reached one hand down to rub circles on your still sensitive clit. 

It throbbed against the pad of his middle finger in time with the way your walls pulsed around him. He was driving into you so slowly, you felt every single inch of him as he invaded your warm and inviting core. 

You were so used to the rough, fast paced sex with him in the past, but this was different. Back then, he was just trying to get you off in the ways he knew you liked, and desperately tried to ignore the unspoken words between the two of you.

He tried to fuck away his true feelings for you, hoping that the way his heart would flip at your sweet sounds and how his whole body fit so perfectly against your own was just him getting caught up in the moment. 

He was so glad he was wrong and finally allowed himself to face reality. 

“You’re all I want, too,” he struggled to say as you clenched tightly around him. “I don’t know why I even bothered trying to deny it…fuck, you’re so tight.”

You smirk to yourself at his struggle to keep control of the slow drag of his hips. “Only for you,” you fed into his possessiveness over you, and raked your nails down his back.

“Fuck,” he hissed at the sting, the light scratches on his skin feeling better than he ever thought was possible. “Thank you for giving me a second chance, sweet girl. I won’t fuck this up again.”

You press your lips to his as you feel the coil in your abdomen begin to unravel. “‘M gonna come again,” you informed him against his mouth, fueling him to pick the pace up just slightly as he continued with his sharp thrusts. 

“I want you to so badly,” a deep grunt left his lip as he felt the beginning of your orgasm start to coat him. “Just like that, baby. Come for me, I want to feel it all over me. I want it to be messy.”

Your mouth breaks away from his in order for you to be able to let out a loud moan, followed by a call of his name as your release surged through you. With a gentle hand pressed to his face, your thumb brushing against the bruise he received last night, you came hard around him.

“Fuck yeah, baby,” he rasped next to your ear, using your willing core to get himself there, as well. “You look so fucking hot when you come for me.”

Whimpering at the sensitivity, you push him closer with your heel against his back. “Wanna feel you, too,” you mumbled, helplessly taking each thrust he gave as you wouldn’t be fully satisfied until he, too, got off. “I want it in me.”

Bradley’s jaw locked at that, his neck straining as he gave two more quick thrusts before stilling. You were rewarded with a deep, throaty groan as he spilled his seed into you, and you took every single drop.

Your walls, seemingly desperate to feel him breed them once again, gripped him tightly when he lazily started to rock his hips into yours again. The both of you were far too sensitive to go for round two right now, so he was just riding your highs for as long as he could. 

You gently massaged his scalp, his head undoubtedly sore from your relentless tugs on his hair. Bradley was actually excited to deal with the brief headache that would come from it. He was even more excited to see the scratches on his back tomorrow morning, and he was excited to take you to the Hard Deck on Friday night and officially make it known to everyone there that you are his and he is yours. 

Granted, most of the people there already assumed that, but it would still feel great to finally go public with you. 

Bradley wrapped you up in his arms and got into a more comfortable position with you on the couch. He placed a few kisses to the top of your head as you basked in the afterglow, finally feeling truly happy for the first time in over a month. “I love you,” he had somehow managed to win you back, and he would make damn sure he keeps his promise of never breaking your heart again. “Every single part of you.”

You lean up and press a kiss to the mark on his cheek, making a mental note to give Jake a hard time about using his fists instead of walking away. You were still grateful that he was so protective over you, though, so you wouldn’t be too serious about it. “I love you, too, Bradley,” you say back. “I always have.”

-

@everythingmarveltopgun

@shara-ne

@iheqrtaustin

@amiets2

@magical-spit

[toxicanonymity]

being bad and looking good.

2.8k, raider!Joel (dark) x f!reader | Raider Master SUMMARY: You look hot but get punished for acting up. WARNINGS: I8+ dubcon unsafe P in V, possessive Joel, creampie, manhandling, angst, joel makes you cry, rough, spanking, choking. He's a bad guy, not a kink practitioner: no rules. He cares, and you enjoy the dique, but you're captive. A/N: HYPOTHETICAL because I didn't want to figure out where to place it in the timeline. Set vaguely in the past. This is for a lingerie ask as well as readers who have requested feral/mad Joel or sweet pea being bad. @javier-penas-wifexx420 @arcanefox207 IMMERSABILITY: Reader has hair that can be held/pulled. Joel can lift reader. Reader has no height/size, so fill in the blanks for whether he has to bend his knees to enter you, etc.

Joel lets it slip how close the abandoned mall is, and you can't stop thinking about going there. You want to get something for him.  He always brings you things and you never have anything to give him other than food you've foraged and flowers for the trailer. One day, you insist it would be fine with Joel if you go to the mall. You make it sound like you've discussed it. Carter is skeptical, but he feels bad for you. He finally breaks down and agrees to take you. 

When you're there, you're walking through the mall and notice Carter's head turn all the way toward a particular storefront as you walk by. You wouldn't have noticed it otherwise. He keeps the same stride, but you slow down to look.

It's a lingerie store. Most of the mannequins are bare or have clothes hanging off them, but there are huge, fading posters with women of all shapes and sizes sporting lace teddies, babydolls, bralettes, strappy garters, and the floor is littered with them. 

Carter sighs when he realizes you've stopped at the store. 

As he slowly walks back to you, scratching the back of his neck, you ask, “Do you think Joel would like it if I had something from here?” The question feels almost rhetorical, but there's that bit of insecurity, too. 

“Uh, I dunno. Sure, I guess.” Carter doesn't seem comfortable. He agrees to let you go in for just a minute to see if you find something, but you have to stay in view. And you think you do. It's a two piece with a sheer, strappy top. The bottom is more modest than a thong, but it has a slit in the crotch that makes you clench your thighs together thinking about Joel.

—-

When you get home, you put it on in the bathroom so you can look at yourself in the mirror. You think it looks good, but it's not a full-length view. And you're not quite sure if it's fitting right. How much tit is supposed to be showing? How tight should it be? You put the flannel back on, but leave it open when you come out. You feel a little more covered than you are, since the nature of the fabric shows a lot. 

Carter's sitting at the kitchen table casually shuffling a deck of cards.  He looks at you for only a split second before his face hardens, and he abruptly looks away. “Jesus,” he drops the cards on the table, and the chair groans against the floor as he stands up. “The hell are ya doin’?” he awkwardly turns around, pulling up on his pants a little. 

“I just wanna know if it looks-”

“--'m sure it looks great,” Carter runs his hands through his hair in distress as he looks out the window.  Then, he tightly crosses his arms, and they stretch his sleeves even more. “Now get outta here,” he tells you. He rocks forward onto his toes, then back, waiting for you to leave. 

Is he mad? You step further into the kitchen and try to meet his eyes in the reflection. 

His voice is stern. “Go put some goddamn clothes on.” 

“Sorry, I wasn't–”

“Now.” He means it. You stand there stunned for a moment with your lip quivering. He's never been angry at you before. 

“NOW.” He points toward Joel's room, veins bulging on his hand and arm. He doesn't turn around to look at you, but you see the flush from his cheeks creeping onto his neck and ears.  

You go to your room and sniffle as you button the flannel. Then you put on a pair of shorts, curl up on the bed, and cry. 

–

After a few minutes, there's a soft knock on the bedroom door. “Ya’okay?” 

You only sniffle, “I'm sorry,” in response. 

Carter sighs. “I shouldn'ta snapped at ya, darlin’. But ya just – can't do that, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Shit, you're a pretty girl, okay? But it ain't my business how ya look. . .in somethin’ like that.” 

“. . .I know, I wasn't thinking.”

“Now, if you're dressed and wanna play rummy, I’ll deal. . .”

You smile to yourself through your tears. 

—--

You dry your eyes and come out to the kitchen, but something in the air is different as you pull out a chair and sit down.

“Carter, please forget it,” you plead and try to get him to look at you. It feels like you broke something.

He finally makes eye contact and forces a little smile. Then he concentrates on the cards as he deals. “Two, two, three, three,” he counts the cards out loud for each of you as he deals. He finishes, and while you're studying the hand you’re dealt, it's quiet. In the corner of your eye, Carter's gaze falls to your now fully-covered chest, but he quickly pulls his eyes away and looks straight down, fidgeting with his cards. You feel awful. What if he can’t look at you the same? It was stupid to try to show him. Of course it would look good to Joel, he likes everything on (and off) you.

______

When Joel gets home, you're in the bedroom alone, sitting on the bed in the lingerie and flannel. As he enters through the kitchen, his boots are heavy on the linoleum. Your heart races with a moment of doubt - how are you going to explain this? But he bursts in the room grumbling, “goddamn Harold, tryin’ to get us all killed.”  He takes his shirt off over his back, tosses it to the laundry, and looks at you. He pauses and devours the view for a few seconds before he slowly approaches, chest heaving.

He looms over you as you sit on the bed. He uses both hands to nudge the flannel off your shoulders, and it pools behind you. You take your arms out of it. He grabs a tit and rests his other hand on the nape of your neck, thumb brushing the curve of your skull. His chest lets out a low growl as he feels you. Then his fingers trail up the strap on one shoulder. He plucks it and it snaps against your skin.

Joel’s face darkens as he asks, “Where’d it come from?” When you don’t answer fast enough, his hand traces up your throat. A chill spreads across your chest. His thumb brushes the side of your neck, then slides over to lift your chin and make you look at him. “Where.”

“I wanted to do something you’d like.”

“Where,” he repeats, then clenches his jaw, waiting. 

“You said the mall wasn’t far, so–”

He raises his voice. “You went to the mall? Where was Carter?”

“It’s okay, he was there, even found a part for the van in the parking lot.” 

Joel’s nostrils flare, and he grips your jaw. “Carter took you to the mall.” 

Your eyes water with panic. “No, it wasn’t his idea--”

“To buy somethin’ like this.” 

“I wanted to get you something. I didn’t know they had this stuff —”

“He's got no business takin’ ya anywhere. And sure as hell not somewhere sexy.”

You're worried for Carter and grateful he’s not around. “I swore the mall was okay, that you wouldn’t mind. I didn’t know there was somewhere sexy,” your voice trails off. 

Joel shakes his head, nostrils flaring. “You don't say what's okay. You don't KNOW what's okay. Get up.” 

He forces you to your feet then turns you around.

“I thought you'd like it,” you sniffle. “You always do things for me.”

“He grabs your ass, lifting your butt cheek and lets it drop. He clicks his tongue. “well, I sure don't like how ya got it.”

“I'm sorry”

“Think ya need a reminder who's in charge here.”

“I know,” you sniffle in agreement, sensing what's coming. He sits down on the bed and manhandles you into lying face down over his knees. You feel a twinge of arousal even before he shifts your position and your hip brushes the hard shape in his jeans. 

You hold your breath as he brings his hand back, then it lands with a sting and you yelp at the force. You bury your mouth in your arm as he brings his hand back again. He repeats it on the other cheek and you let out a muffled whimper that sounds more aroused than you should be. 

“Like bein’ bad?” He asks, then spanks you again. 

“No.” 

His hand lands with a sting one more time and stays on your skin to grab the plush of your burning skin. “Ya like this?”

“. . .I dunno,” you whimper, unsure of the right answer.

He feels between your legs, his thick finger finding  a damp slit in the cotton crotch of the lacy underwear. He slips a finger inside the garment, giving you a shock of need when his knuckle nudges your dripping hole.  “Ya do, don't ya? Get up.” He grabs your arm and stands up, forcing you to your feet. He holds your hair and stares you down sternly. “This ain't for fun, baby, it's your safety” He lets go of your hair and looms closer. “Understand?”

You nod and reflexively back up. Something tells you it's not just about your safety. 

“AND Carter's. You tryin' to make me hurt’m?” He asks. Joel gets closer and you keep backing up toward the wall. 

“No,” you sob. “Please don't. He’s good, so good, he wouldn't even look at me. He respects you so much”

A new rage flashes across Joel's face and he lowers his voice. “He wouldn't . . .even . . .look at ya,” he mutters too calmly for your comfort. He takes a deep breath, looks you up and down again, puts his hand on your chest, fingers spread wide, and walks you harshly into the wall. His bare chest heaves. ”But ya gave him the chance, didn't ya,” Joel nods. You've dug your hole so much deeper. 

“I was only thinking about–” Joel’s hand comes to your neck as you croak out, “--you.” You don't know what you were thinking. Joel doesn't either. He slowly shakes his head, nostrils flaring. 

He pins you with his hips, and his hard cock digs into your front, making you gush.  

“Forget who ya belong to?”

“No,” you whimper. “I’m yours.”

He pulls his hips back and quickly unfastens his pants. You bite your lip to keep from moaning at the sight of his cock. It nudges under the bottom hem of the lingerie top to reach your body. You feel his skin hit your lower belly, and it makes you weak with desire. “Only wanna be yours.”

He kicks your feet apart to spread your legs, and he brings his lips to your hair. “Then ya do what I say. Understand?” 

“Yes sir,” you whisper, then he shoves his hand between your legs, using two fingers to spread the slit in the fabric of the crotch. 

“‘s’for your own good,” he adds. 

He nudges the slit with his cockhead. The fabric doesn’t open wide enough, so he rips the slit more, then you feel his tip at your wet little hole.  He holds his cock in line, then grabs your ass and shoves up into you all at once, bottoming out. The force makes your back and shoulders drag up the wall. With your feet now off the ground, your knees bend, cradling his hips. He holds you by your ass, adjusts your weight, and your back is against the wall. You balance your arms around his neck. His thick cock retreats then punches into you again. 

He's so thick, each time he pushes in, it feels like he’s taking up your whole body. He’s not looking at you; he’s looking past you. The grip of his fingers hurts enough to feel good, to feel his desperation, how much he has to have you–for him and only him. 

He grunts and growls and breathes heavily, stomach heaving against you. “You're mine, sweet pea.”

“I am,” you agree. 

“No one else can have ya.” His words get broken with the force of his thrusts.  “No one else can see ya.”

“I know.”

You moan as he buries his length in you roughly, and he mutters “goddamn,” tightening his grip on your ass. You’re overwhelmed by the fullness of his cock, his skin against yours, his breath in your hair, his body pinning you there. All of it makes your insides swell with mounting pleasure. 

“I love being yours,” you pant. 

He fucks you in relative silence for about two minutes, the room filled only with the sounds of his brutish grunts and unbridled sighs, your little moans and whimpers, and the squelch of his stiff cock pumping in and out of your dripping cunt.

He adjusts your weight and looks down at your body from time to time, letting your upper back rest against the wall as he rails into you. You’re reassured that he likes the fit, at least. Your legs wrap loosely around him. 

The pressure in your lower belly builds with each grunt, each thrust of his cock. Soon, his breath becomes shaky and the drag of his cock quickens. Then he bottoms out sharply with a groan, drawing a sigh from you as he begins to pulse. He thrusts into you slower, more controlled, and you rock slowly against the wall. The rhythmic swell of his shaft within your walls and the warm seed spilling from his tip make you clench around him. You moan his name, tighten your legs, and he sighs as your cunt chokes his cock. 

When his balls are empty, he slides out, and the fabric pulls with his cock as he withdraws and lets you down to the floor.

—-

Joel sighs, crams his wet cock into his pants, and fastens them again.

“You okay?” He asks, catching his breath. 

“Yeah,” you mutter. “Where are you going?”

“Gonna pay Carter a visit, down at the house.”

“Please, Joel, it was all my fault,” you beg. “Don’t do it.” 

“Ain’t gonna kill’m. This time.” You still don’t like the look on his face. 

You follow him across the room, reach for his arm, and your fingers land lightly on his inner elbow. He pauses, still without his shirt on, and looks down at your hand on his elbow. He turns around, reads your face, then goes over to the bed without a word. He sits and manspreads.  “I was desperate to make you happy,” you plead, fidgeting with the hem of your top.

Joel scrunches his face. “Ya do make me happy, sweet pea.”

“He didn't even wanna take me,” you insist.

“Then he’s gotta learn to say no.” 

You hesitantly come closer, unsure if he’ll turn you away, but he lets you between his legs, then you sit on his thigh and keep fidgeting with the hem of your top. 

“He says no all the time,” you assure Joel. 

“Does he,” Joel mutters skeptically.

“I made it like he would've been saying no to you.” 

Joel shakes his head, looking at your mouth. “That ain't right, but he knows better, baby.” 

“He yelled at me,” you offer, hoping it doesn't make things worse.

Joel's brow furrows and his tone sharpens. “Ya gotta stop lyin’, now. It's pissin’ me off.”

“I'm not! He was mad.”

“Oh yeah? What'd he yell?” 

“Told me to go away and put on some clothes.” 

Joel’s chin lifts to look at the ceiling and he takes a deep breath, then looks at you. “What the hell got into ya, huh?”

“I dunno,” you mumble. “Feel like I'm going crazy, stuck here all day.” Joel looks at you. “But you take good care of me,” you clarify, “and I love it here.” 

But that’s not what Joel’s thinking about. 

“Wanna fuck him? Suck his dick?”

“No!” You're on the verge of tears again. “God, Joel, please don't talk like that.” Your face is scrunched up in pain. 

“Then don't act like it.”

“I was–okay, I get it.”

Joel is quiet for a few seconds, then asks, “What if I told ya to suck his dick?” 

“No!”

“You'd say no to me?” 

“I’d ask if I really have to.” 

Joel's face slowly softens, like you found the only acceptable answer. “And why’s that?”

“Cause I only want yours.” 

“Hm,” Joel nods. 

“Please, Joel. Stay here, don't go to him. . .you can talk to him tomorrow.”

You put your arms around Joel's neck and study his pensive face. Then you bury your head in his neck and whisper “Sorry.”  His hand slowly comes to your back. You dip your head and lightly brush your lips against his collar bone, then return your face under his jaw, and he nestles his head over yours. Your wet lashes blink against his skin, and his hand slowly slides on your back. Somehow, it feels like more comfort than you deserve. 

“Ok, baby,” he whispers and wraps both arms around you.

----------

if you wanna know whether Carter sees sweet pea that way, check out he's only human.

----------

Their present-day story will continue, but I don't have an ETA, sorry. Unless the next one gets split up, it'll have fluff, two moods of smut, angst.

I appreciate all your comments that let me know what you enjoy and what curiosities you have. Thank you so much for reading, and thanks for your support. Love you all.

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[teenytinyjimin]

i miss you, i’m sorry (j. jungkook)

nothing happened in the way i wanted

every corner of this house is haunted

and i know you said that we’re not talking

but i miss you, i’m sorry.

summary: the first time seeing each other after the breakup is always the hardest. but seeing each other when you're still in love? an absolute nightmare

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2k

tags: angst, smoker!jk, brokenhearted!jk, equally as brokenhearted!reader, why did they even break up in the first place?, featuring reader’s bestfriend!jimin, also jimin is sexually ambiguous let's keep it that way please

warnings: none, alcohol/nic use but nothing too intense, kinda sad but it's a happy ending i promise

author’s note: idk why i keep making my fic names and stuff inspired by songs, i guess it just helps me beat writers block.

also i wrote this in second person, lmk if you guys prefer that over third. i personally find third person fics easier to write, but i'm sure second person is easier to read for some of you. enjoy my angels!

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

Bars weren't really your thing.

If you were going to be honest, they were miles better than nightclubs, but still not your thing. It was something about the air that just rubbed you the wrong way. Perhaps it was all the creepy old men that turned you off of them, or just the fact that there's not much to do besides sit, drink, sit some more, maybe play some pool and... sit.

Jimin, on the other hand, loved bars. He loved being able to sit there, look pretty, and watch as absolutely anyone and everyone flocked over to him to start a conversation. It admittedly fueled his ego, and he loved the feeling of being the center of attention. However, he didn't love being at bars alone. Being so drop-dead gorgeous meant that about twenty times the amount of creeps bothered him than the average bar patron. Many of them figured that a pretty boy like him was sitting there waiting to be swooped up by a sugar daddy. Let's get one thing straight – that wasn't him. He had plenty of money. He just wanted to have a little conversation, give a little kiss here and there maybe, and dip at the end of the night with his bar companion by his side.

Unfortunately for you, that bar companion was usually you. It was certainly a compliment for Jimin to want to bring you along with him instead of any of his other gazillions of friends and other social connections, but it was quite exhausting for you to be in a bar pretty much every day of every weekend. He liked the attention, but you didn't. If it were an empty room with nothing but you and a bottle of rum, you'd have a blast. But what bar in Itaewon was going to be like that?

Alas, here you were, sat at the end of a bar with your friend sitting next to you. Something about the light in the building made him look extra beautiful tonight, his skin shimmering like the most precious of diamonds and his eyes deep and full of allure. At the moment he was making small talk with a lady on the other side of him, one who was definitely at least twenty years his senior but didn't look a day past thirty. Sighing, you drop your head down to look at your drink, a half-full martini glass that held a rather disappointing cosmopolitan (you weren't a vodka fan anyway, it wasn't the bartender's fault).

You wanted to be home. That was the only place you ever wanted to be these days. At home, cuddling your darling kitty in bed, and sleeping your days away. Maybe a year ago you would have loved being out and about, but now it feels more like a burden than a fun activity. And you know that Jimin doesn't mean any harm in doing what he does, but seeing him talk with so many people over the course of the night and being so happy is almost a bit gut-wrenching for you because you can't be as happy as him.

You began to feel the blood rush to your ears and your face get warm. Something was wrong, you could sense it. Everyone has those gut instincts when something isn't quite right, and this wasn't just an instinct, it was like a neon sign. A neon sign that read DANGER. Perhaps it was just you feeling rather anxious and overwhelmed, but either way you were craving the comfort of your home.

"Hey, 'Minnie, can we-" Just as you turned to Jimin to softly ask him if you could go home or at the very least switch bars, you felt a presence behind you. It wasn't just an I'm here to order a drink presence, but rather an I'm here for you one. Realizing that Jimin wasn't even listening anyway, you froze, waiting to see what would happen. And that's when you heard a familiar voice that you thought you'd never hear again.

"Hey."

You didn't want to turn around. You tried to stay as still as a statuette for as long as possible, however the more you thought about the man behind you the more you felt the urge to turn around and take a bite of the forbidden fruit. Taking a deep breath, you slowly turned until you were face-to-face with your ex, Jungkook.

"Want to talk outside?" Not yet looking at him directly, you hesitantly nodded before quickly looking back to Jimin and then standing up. You left your purse there, figuring that your friend would grab it if he changed locations, and began trailing after the tall tattooed figure that navigated his way toward the door.

As the two of you stepped out into the cool autumn air, you crossed your arms and leaned against the building. Your heart was between your ears at this point, buzzing at what felt like 200 beats a minute. It was stupid for you to have even left Jimin's side, you thought, because now you were alone with your ex of all people and God knows what this boy has up his sleeve.

"You look good," Jungkook said gently as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and placed one between his lips. "And I know what you're going to say, you're so full of it Kook, but I mean it."

"Since when have you started smoking?" You asked, ignoring his previous two statements and gesturing toward the pack in his hand. He shrugged. "Couple weeks after I last saw you maybe? Not a big deal."

"You know that stuff's bad for you."

"I don't think sitting here third-wheeling with Jimin and his beau of the night is any better."

"You don't know Jimin, don't act like you do," You said, completely taken aback and offended by the words coming out of his mouth. "And I'm having a good time, thank you very much."

"Doesn't seem like it. Weren't you about to ask him if you guys could leave?"

"I was having- What?- Is there a reason you asked to talk to me out here?" You were struggling to form a complete sentence. This man always knew how to leave you speechless, but now it was just irritating. You watched as Jungkook leaned back onto the building with you and shook his head, giving you a toothy grin before lighting the cigarette in his mouth. "Nah. Just figured you'd have more fun out here talking to me and getting a break from it all."

"You know he's waiting for me, right? I should go back inside." You stand back up straight and begin walking back into the bar, however you feel a warm hand wrap gently around your wrist and tug you back. "Hey hey hey," Jungkook called. "He'll survive a few minutes without you. Just chill with me. I'm not asking you for anything, just a second of your time."

You turned to face your ex-lover, your eyes finally meeting his for the first time that night. Even after all this time of being apart, those beautiful doe eyes still yearned for you, and yours for him. With a shaky sigh, you brush his hand away and return to where you were standing. "Exes don't hang out like this, Jungkook."

"Woah, you're pulling out the full government name on me now?" The boy teased, puffing a cloud of smoke from his mouth. "Should I be offended?"

"I'm setting boundaries," You crossed your arms and kicked at the ground beneath you. "Nicknames are for friends or more than friends, which we aren't."

"We aren't strangers either though."

"That doesn't matter. Not friends."

"Alright, fine," Giving up, Jungkook looked down at his hand and flexed it awkwardly. "Just trying to be friendly."

"Friendly?!" You said frantically, finally having enough of his antics. "You don't need to be friendly. We broke up and that's the end of it. Exes aren't friends. They go their separate ways and when they see each other again – if they see each other – they ignore each other. I don't get why you're doing this psychological warfare bullshit on me."

"Exes can be friends," He breathed out in protest. "Can you even tell me why we broke up in the first place?"

You remained silent. The truth was that you didn't know why you broke up either. It had been almost a year since the whole ordeal went down, and you were still confused more than anything else, even more than you were hurt. All you can remember is that you guys went through some bullshit ‘mutual breakup’ that apparently neither of you wanted in the first place. The only reason you even agreed to it is because somewhere within you, you felt like perhaps you weren’t deserving of such a wonderful relationship. And the only reason Jungkook agreed to it is because he thought that it’s what you wanted.

"No, seriously. What went wrong? What did I do? I just want some closure..." His voice became increasingly softer as he kept speaking, which only meant one thing. You stared at the ground intensely, refusing to look up and see his teary eyes.

You felt his hand gently wrap around yours and tug on it as a plea for your attention. Jungkook was your weakness, the only person you'd willingly do anything for, and he really loved to take advantage of that without even realizing he was.

You peered up at him hesitantly, worried that you'd find yourself in tears the second you saw the ones pouring from his eyes. Sure enough, when the eye contact began, you were driving yourself forward into his strong arms and dampening his shirt with your tears.

Jungkook's embrace felt the same as it did the last time you felt it. It was still so warm, so inviting, so loving. Never once did you feel unsafe in his arms and this moment was not an exception. As you sobbed into his shirt you felt his hand move from around your waist to the top of your head, stroking your hair gently.

The two of you stood there for what seemed like hours, simply letting all emotion out while enjoying the company of one another. While Jungkook has been exceptionally transparent in expressing the fact that he's heartbroken about the situation between the two of you, it's safe to say that you feel equally as devastated. This man was once the love of your life and the only one you ever needed, but now everything about him except for his embrace feels foreign. This was someone you once saw yourself building a life with, but now it's shattering to think that he has a life after you.

You pulled away after a while, refusing to make eye contact as you wiped the tears from your eyes. This all felt entirely pointless. It was obvious that nothing went wrong in the relationship yet here you were, no longer in one. You couldn't begin to imagine what Jungkook had been going through since you guys broke up considering the fact that for you, your entire world turned upside down.

"I'm sorry," You managed to choke out before you felt Jungkook's hand gently guide your face up to look at his. You watched him stare at you for a moment, taking in your features, before his lips began to curl into a soft smile. "Mmm. Yeah. You're way too pretty to let slip through my fingers."

Feeling your face turn hot as a blush crept to your cheeks, you let out a soft giggle before you were cut off by a familiar pair of lips meeting yours.

"JUNGKOOK?" You heard a voice call out. The two of you pulled apart, eyes wide. Shit. You forgot about Jimin.

[literaila]

admissions

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: it's midnight and satoru's bored

warnings: abandonment issues, anxiety, and gojo &lt;3

a/n: angst tomorrow?

last part | next part

*

second year, month five.

you're sitting on your bed, reading through an old textbook that nanami gave you (for some indiscernible reason) when there's a knock on your door. 

pounding, actually. it shakes the walls and makes you jump. 

there's a distant chuckle from the other side of the door. 

no one really comes to check in on you, so this is unusual. even after living at jujutsu high for four months, you're finding it difficult to fit in. 

maybe it's the fact that you were a month late to join your classmates, maybe it's because you find yourself pushing any available person away (because of fear, or insanity, or...), or maybe it's just that you can't relate to anyone for the life of you. 

but, either way, the last person to knock on your door was yaga, who came to wake you up to go out on your second day here. 

and, it's midnight, so unless someone's dying-- 

you sigh, shaking your hair out of your face. your eyes burn from staring at the small text for so long, so you rub them, hoping that you fell asleep and this is a dream. 

it's not, apparently, because there's a second knock, much louder than the first. so you reluctantly get up and go to the door. 

you try to tip-toe across the floors, hoping that the person hellbent on speaking to you can't hear you creeping up to the peephole. 

"let me in," someone says because they have any right to demand anything of you. 

you cross your arms like he can see you, and wait. 

"y/n?" gojo whines, and there's a thud as he slumps against the door. you can almost hear him breathing. "please. it's important." 

you wait another moment, for an explanation (which is unlikely) or for him to leave (which won't happen). you should've pretended to be asleep. then, after you realize he's going to wait, you sigh and unlock the door. 

and when you open it, gojo falls right on top of you. 

"ugh," you say, pushing him off, not caring about the two seconds it takes him to regain his balance. "you're heavy." 

" i work out. i'm made of muscle." 

you roll your eyes. "what do you want?" you ask, crossing your arms. you make sure not to open the door all of the way. lord knows that gojo has a way of slipping through the cracks. 

"no one else is around," he whines, "and i'm bored." 

"okay? go step on some ants or burn down your room or something. i'm going to bed." 

you should be nicer to your classmates--the people whom you literally entrust your life with--but you can't help your hard exterior. at least you know that no one will be able to break through it if you don't let them. 

and plus, gojo kind of annoys you (and is maybe, a little bit, amusing).

gojo looks you up and down with a brow raised. how you're able to see him from behind his ridiculous sunglasses, who knows. 

he's clearly questioning your outfit and the shoes you're still wearing inside your room. it was a mistake to stay in your uniform. 

"you don't look very tired," he says, smiling at you. his face is unwrinkled and youthful. he looks like a boy and acts like a child. 

"you're terrible at reading people." 

"hey, no i'm not. i can tell you want to hang out with me." 

"can you?" 

"mm-hmm," he hums, grinning as he tries to lean forward, into your room. 

"where's suguru?" 

he gives you a skeptical look. "why do you wanna know?" 

you snort. "cause usually you'd be bothering him." 

"oh," he grins, undeterred by your insult, "he went to see his family." 

you frown. "oh." 

"and before you ask, shoko said that she's tired of me," he pouts a bit, but behind his notorious smile. gojo is an illusion of expressions. you've never seen anybody's face move so quickly, or shift so subtly. "now can i come in?" 

you weigh the cost and benefits of allowing satoru gojo to intrude on your saturday night, and how likely you'll be subjected to him in the future. (is he going to damage you if you let him in? are you going to let him break you?).

but he's leaning down so you can see the tips of his lashes, and he's smiling like he already knows your answer. 

so you sigh, hesitantly, and open the door a bit more. "don't touch any of my stuff." 

"wow," gojo says as he walks in, by-stepping you and ignoring the glare you shoot his way. "you're a terrible decorator." 

he's right. you haven't bothered to put anything up on the walls, even after almost half a year. a small part of you has been too worried that you won't be here for long. that you might die, or... 

"sorry it's not up to your standards," you roll your eyes, going back to sit on your bed and leaf through the stupid textbook again. "but, you know, luckily, you have your own room. i can show you where it is, if you forgot. we can go there now." 

"subtle," he says and messes with a couple of books on your shelf. you doubt he's going to pick one up and ruin it, so you ignore him. 

you could complain about him touching your things like you just told him not to, but it's probably not going to get you very far. plus, you don't want to say something he can laugh at. or something to make him leave. 

but after a moment, you can't help yourself. 

"why are you up, anyway?" you ask him, trying to sound more annoyed than you are. "didn't you have to leave early for a mission this morning?"

"are you keeping tabs on me?" 

"you were bragging about a 'solo' mission all through dinner last night. it was impossible not to overhear." 

gojo sighs. "i don't get a lot of sleep. it's too lonely." 

"i've heard some very interesting rumors about you and suguru's cuddling rituals." 

he grins but doesn't say anything, teasing you with just his eyes. 

after a second of it, you ask, "don't you have a family to go home to?" 

he turns to you, tilting his head, long fingers tapping along your appliances. "clans are more like... begrudged allies than families. i haven't seen my parents in..." he whistles, shaking his head. but it doesn't seem to bother him, because he shrugs after, and resumes his snooping. 

that... actually explains a lot. 

at least he's like the rest of you. 

gojo, abandoning your books--which he probably can't read--goes to sit down on your swivel chair, spinning around. "what about your family? don't you miss them?" 

you give him a tired look. "seriously? you think i don't know that you guys talk about me when i'm not around?" 

gojo bites his cheek, having the gull to not even blink, and then a reluctant smile makes its way to his lips. "who told you?" 

"haibara can't keep a secret to save his life. don't gossip around him anymore." 

he shakes his head, grinning at you again. gojo knows no shame. "well you started pretty late into the semester," he says, "that's not very typical." 

you roll your eyes. 

"so. not going home?" 

"i'm not welcome in my parent's house, anymore," you say, trying to act like the words mean nothing. you could be discussing your favorite color. "as i'm sure you know." 

"did they kick you out?" 

"do you really want to talk about this? it'll probably bore you." 

he shrugs. "nothing else to do." 

you sigh, shutting your textbook.

maybe it's because gojo doesn't seem to actually care, or because you've been alone all day--with lots of time to spend spewing over choices that weren't yours. either way, the words make their way to your lips before you can stop them.  

"both of my parents pretty much ignored me as soon as i turned ten and started having nightmares about the monsters i was seeing around our house," you shake your head, swallowing, "and after yaga scouted me this year, they decided i'd probably be better off with 'people like me.' so, no, i'm not going home. i'm sure they've already moved." 

gojo stares at you like he's trying to discern if you're telling the truth or not. 

you probably shouldn't have said anything. but it's not your fault that no one's had the guts to ask before him, or that you've been dying to talk about it. 

you roll your eyes. "satisfied, gojo?" 

"satoru," he says, grinning. "anyone who's got a clear attitude problem gets to call me by my first name." 

"did your 'begrudged allies' forget to teach you manners?"

he hums. "i think i skipped those lessons." 

you snort. 

you could thank him for not pitying you--for not saying a single thing about how you didn't deserve it, or that it isn't fair--but you don't. it doesn't feel necessary. 

"suguru's family is like that," he adds because this is a normal thing to discuss with an acquaintance you've hung out with once. "but he's too righteous to cut them off." 

"yeah, i don't have that issue." 

he laughs, spinning around again. then he stands up and plops down on your bed, unwarranted, taking off his glasses so he can lie on his side. 

and then he sits there, staring at you. 

it only takes thirty seconds for you to break. 

"did someone surgically implant diamonds into your eyes?" you demand, kicking his foot away from yours. his body is warm against yours, and it makes you wonder if he's got a fever. 

he would come and bother you just to get you sick. 

"these are all-natural, sweetheart," he whispers, fluttering his lashes. he doesn't look away for a moment. his eyes are prettier up close, you suppose, when you can see them in their full glory. they look less alien, somehow less intense. 

"what are the glasses for anyway?" 

"try 'em on." 

he hands them to you, grinning like he knows something you don't, and you take them--maybe just so you can smudge the lens. 

they are surprisingly light, and warm. you put them over your eyes, blinking. 

"oh, are you clinically blind?" you ask, feeling slightly bad for bringing it up. he's probably going to pull your hair and lock you in your room now. 

satoru snorts. "no, i just don't need to see, unlike some people." 

"...was that supposed to be a brag?" 

you take off the glasses, wincing at the light. then you hand them back to him, tingling skin where your fingers brush his. 

"it would drain my cursed energy if i didn't wear them," he says, "'cause i see a lot more than you do." 

"okay? so it’s not to keep people from screaming when they see you?”

he pinches your thigh in retaliation, scoffing. “i am beautiful.”

he shakes his head, but leaves the glasses off, setting them on his stomach, and closing his eyes. one hand travels to the top of his head, as he relaxes into your bed. 

you'll probably need to wash the sheets after this. 

"hey," you say after he's been still for a minute. "satoru. you can't fall asleep here. i thought you wanted to be entertained."

"then entertain me." 

you roll your eyes, even though he's not looking. "i'm not your servant. go back to your room if you're just going to bed. i'm not cuddling with you." 

"i promise i'm good at it. ask suguru." 

"he's not here, so i can't." 

satoru sighs, opening his eyes again. "talk about something." 

"like what?" 

"uh... your favorite movie." 

"i don't watch a lot of movies." 

he sits up. "what?" he asks, genuinely shocked. 

you roll your eyes at him again. 

and, okay. despite his attitude, and his freaky eyes, you guess it is... nice, to be called upon. 

and as satoru sits there, talking to you about the most ridiculous of things, you feel settled in. unafraid of saying something wrong or pushing him away. 

it's good, you suppose, easy. 

*

next part | series masterlist

[missmeinyourbones]

SIMPLE COMPLICATION, MISCOMMUNICATION

cw: arguments aren’t fun :( suna is bad at communicating :( reader is frustrated and a tad insecure :( angst to fluff tho i swear, i was mad so i took it out on paper (and on rintaro)

The small crack of light creeping through your curtain feels equivalent to the burn of a hangover. 

The clock reads a reasonable almost ten in the morning, but your body dismisses the concept of time and aches for twelve more hours of sleep. You barely slept last night, tossing and turning for hours on end, all because of your stupid boyfriend. 

Suna’s terrible at communicating, no matter how many times you tell him. He’s human, prone to making mistakes and having his fair share of wheels that need greasing, but his avoidant communication skills are often the core of a handful of your arguments.

This time around, he’s been away for the week traveling with EJP—and while the travel is nothing new, you’ve only received a single phone call and four texts within the past week. 

Waking up with a pounding headache, you instantly groan at the thought of pulling yourself out of bed. Rintaro won't be home for another day, which means another night of no sleep and spiraling worry. 

At this point, coffee may be your only saving grace.

Trudging into your kitchen with knotted hair and morning breath, you barely even open your eyes as you mindlessly navigate your way to the savior that is your coffee machine. 

However, your apartment isn't as empty as you left it last night. 

“Yikes,” an unsuspecting yet familiar voice practically wheezes at your appearance. “You look like you slept well,” the voice oozes of nothing but sarcasm and instigation. 

Cracking open a tired and cranky eye, you see him through blurry vision. He’s comfortable on the couch, phone placed on the coffee table and hands on his knees as he sits up, now knowing that you’re awake. 

He looks good, and as relieved as you are to know he’s back home safe, you don’t have it in you to be merrily surprised. 

“Why’re you here?” you growl. 

Rintaro bites the inside of his cheek. He’s not too surprised at your cold greeting, but winces all the same at your harsh tone. 

“Ouch,” his hand covers his chest in hurt. “Is that any way to greet your sexy boyfriend first thing in the morning after he’s been away?”

“When I’m pissed at him, yes,” you snap with a burning annoyance. You sound tired, and Suna ignores the ache in his chest that knows it’s because of him. 

Standing quickly and making his way toward you, his eyes follow your every move. You walk by him without so much as a glance and make your way over to the coffee machine. Turning it on, you sigh against the counter and wait for it to warm up. 

“What are you doing here, Suna?” 

His breath catches in his throat, “Suna? Since when was I demoted?” 

He must have been slowly inching himself towards you, because he now stands beside you in the kitchen. He moves to press a kiss to your temple—testing out the waters—but you immediately step away and hold up a hand that wordlessly tells him to back off. He makes a mental note of the silent message. Sailor’s warning, rocky seas ahead. 

“I’m serious,” your eyes remain locked on the coffee machine whirring before you.

“So am I. Suna?” he tries again. His nails scratch at his stubbly jaw in thought, “Nope, never heard of him. Don’t know who that is.”

As if your tone isn’t clear enough that you're unimpressed with his antics, the scowl on your face solidifies any leftover room for interpretation. 

There’s no point in playing along with his games, so you fold. “Maybe that's because he’s been away for almost a week and has barely responded to any of my texts.”

Rintaro exhales. And there it is. 

The reason you’re giving him the cold shoulder after a week of being apart. The reason he wasn't met with the comforting weight of your frame jumping into his arms and a kiss filled with enough love to feed an army. The reason you didn’t answer his last three texts of:

surprise!!! trip ended a day early. boarding rn, can’t wait to see you :P

landed safe and omw, love u <3 

here so wake up and let me love you :/ coward

Rintaro inhales. It’s all making sense now. 

“Huh,” he frowns, “he sounds like a dick.”

You look him in the eye for the first time this morning and it sends an instant chill up his spine. A cold glare of anger and exhaustion and hurt. 

Suna doesn’t like it one bit. He loathes it, especially when it's directed at him. He decides that this has gone on long enough. 

He wraps an arm around your shoulder in an attempt to pull you into his chest. “C’mere, I’m sorry. My schedule’s been crazy.”

You resist, but not enough to actually mean it, so he holds your head in place against his chest. 

Noticing you're not yet hugging him back, he mumbles the confirmation into your hair, “Today’s practice got canceled. M’all yours.”

And suddenly, as if he’s been balancing on a wavering piece of glass and finally applied too much pressure on a crack, the panel shatters and you're pulling away from his hold with a shaky sigh. 

“I’m not in the mood to be your second choice today.”

The apartment falls silent, aside from the comedic timing of your coffee machine deciding to start drizzling the dark liquid into your ceramic mug. Your confession (followed by the deafening silence that shows no sign of you taking back your words) makes him swallow down the bile quickly rising in his throat.  

“Baby,” he breathes, voice now devoid of all airy humor it was laced with a few moments ago, “that’s not even funny. M’done with the bit now, c’mon.”

“I’m serious,” you snap, and the step Rintaro takes forward is frozen mid-stride.

“I haven’t seen you in days, barely talked to you. You said you would tell me when you landed safely in Brazil and you never did. You left almost half of my texts on delivered when I was only checking in on you, and—” 

“Shit, I know,” his voice comes out harsher than he means it to, and when the coffee machine turns off and makes his outburst all the more sour, he makes a mental note to break it later. 

The look of shock that flashes across your face is gone before he can address it, but it was there and now he’s afraid he’s going to see it every time he so much as closes his eyes.  

His tone is softer the second time around, “I know, and I’m sorry.” 

He thinks about taking another step closer to you, but the tears of frustration threatening to slip from your lash line tell him not to. So he keeps his distance and tries to speak as calmly as he can.  

“It’s been hard for me, too. Fuckin’ coach keeps changing the dates around on us, but when I’m not playing, I’m eating or sleeping. That’s all, you know that—”

“It’s not about that,” you coldly cut him off, upset that he’d even insinuate something as foolish as infidelity. That’s not where your mind was, and you both know that. 

Your head falls into your hands as your elbows rest against the chilly countertop. “That's your job, I know what is signed up for.”

He watches you close your eyes in disappointment and (what he knows to be) embarrassment, “But I worry, and I know that you know that.”

He doesn't miss the crack in your voice and the way it instantly creates a crack in his heart. He continues to watch, helplessly, as you bare yourself to him beneath the crumbling pressure.  

“And when you don’t answer, it makes me feel like I’m annoying you, like you don't want to talk to me. And if that’s the case, then maybe you shouldn’t have to deal with me being clingy and insecure and—”

“Yeah, stopping you right there,” he crudely interrupts, pulling your now malleable frame into his arms.

He coos at your shaky inhales against his chest, and it makes you feel like a wounded child. “You could never annoy me,” he promises.

And you know he means it, no matter how frustrating these past six days have been for you. 

“I’m sorry I blow at communicating,” his voice weaves in and out of your ears as he whispers into the crown of your head, “but please know that even when I’m busy and exhausted and practically a fucking zombie, I still want to talk to you. Always do.”

You believe him. It doesn't make it hurt any less, but you believe him. 

“Well, do a better job of showing it,” you mumble against his sweatshirt. It’s weak, but it’s there.

His hand finds your back, drawing mindless circles and pushing you further into his hold. As if you’ll slip out of his grasp like a bag in the wind if he's not cautious enough with you.

“Anything for you, baby.”

He holds you there for a moment, and the kitchen is filled with nothing but the sound of your sniffly breathing and the smell of steaming hazelnut. 

Eventually, his voice comes quiet, muffled from the crook of your neck as it vibrates your skin. 

“Do you really think I put my work before you?” 

“No,” your response is immediate because it’s true, “I don’t. I just missed you, Rintaro.”

You bite your tongue when you feel his smirk against your skin, and its not a second before he’s pulling away and you see it on his face. “Rintaro, huh?” 

You roll your eyes and go to push him off of you, but he’s too fast. His quick reflexes come in handy as his fingers catch your wrist mid-shove.

“Come on, just a little more, gimme what I wanna hear.”

“No,” your stubbornness wins as you twist your wrist in his palm. 

“Please, baby,” he begs without hesitation. “Just shorten it a few letters. S’all I wanna hear.”

“You’re annoying me.”

“I have a week’s worth of annoying you to catch up on,” he easily retorts.

Amid your bickering, Rintaro has backed you up against the counter, pinning you beneath his weight as he childishly slumps on top of you.

“You’re heavy,” he feels you groan.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Get off, Rin.”

His heart instantly swells at the sweet name falling from your lips, and his grin mirrors the internal organ as it grows three times in size. 

“There it is,” he coos as you try to shrug his hands away from cradling your face. You roll your eyes, but your smile is evident. “There she is, my pretty girl.”

You let him press his lips to yours, and while you tell yourself it to shut him up, you’d be a liar if you said that was the only reason. He tastes like the drugstore cherry chapstick he uses and the cinnamon gum he chewed on the plane ride home. 

“Missed you,” he presses another sweet kiss to your lips, “I love you.”

You swallow his words without remorse. “Love you too.”

He lifts you onto the countertop and laughs when you jump at the cold granite on your exposed skin. Next to your now lukewarm coffee, he picks up the mug with one hand and carefully passes it to you. He watches you take a sip, and hums into the beverage when you hold it up to his own mouth and let him have a taste. 

Between brushing noses and coffee-tasting kisses, he breathes. “Wanna help me unpack?” 

On command, your eyes roll. “You’re on thin ice, Rin.”

He wouldn't have it any other way, so he shrugs into your neck. “Good thing I know how to skate.”

[awooghan]

fall in love with me (this christmas) ✧.* h.hj

➳ PAIRING: hyunjin x fem!reader

➳ GENRE: fluff, mild angst, best friends to lovers, christmas

➳ WARNINGS: mild language, mentions of food, hyunjin is tipsy in one part (he and reader are ‘00 or ‘01 tho so they’re legal), UNEDITED (will be fully edited by new years) UPDATE: fully edited as of jan. 19, 2024

➳ WORD COUNT: 22.9k (final wc after editing)

➳ SUMMARY: hyunjin has one last chance to have a college christmas romance and he’ll do anything to have it—even if it means fake-dating his best friend. (inspired by "cold december night" by michael buble)

➳ NOTES: MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!! 🎄❄️ i hope you have/had an amazing day with love ones and good food! this fic is my christmas collab with my bestie @ujimoo :3 some parts r kind of rough bc we didn't fully edit yet but i hope y'all enjoy <3

network tags: @kflixnet @straykidsland-main @kwritersworld

prologue.

– halloween.

You didn’t think the night could get any worse.

The night started from the moment you caught a whiff of beer, sweat, and Dior Sauvage as Hyunjin dragged you by the hand to ‘Jackson’s 2023 Annual Hallo-Wang Party’. You could think of a thousand other ways you wanted to spend your Halloween that didn’t involve being stuck here, but you lost a bet with Chan, so you don’t exactly have a choice.

So here you are, sitting in the kitchen with your now-ruined costume sticking to your skin, thanks to someone (Jeongin) spilling his tequila on you when you were playing beer pong. Now, not only is your head throbbing from the smell of frat party, but you have an ugly pink blotch on the costume you took weeks to put together.

You nurse whatever the concoction of alcohol is the punch when Hyunjin, too tipsy for his own good, slides up next to you and rests his chin on your shoulder. 

“Y/NNN~…” he sighs, wrapping his arms around your waist. “There you are!” 

Fighting against his hold on you, you’re finally able to get his hands away from your waist, only for him to wrap his arms around your arm like a lost child. 

“Why don’t you love me?” he mumbles, hiccuping at the end of his sentence. “Do you hate me?” 

A smile tugs at your lips as you turn to look at your best friend. His blond hair falls in front of his eyes as he stares at you. “Of course.” 

His nose scrunches in disgust and he shakes his head as your laughter surrounds him. It somehow makes him feel lighter than all of the alcohol he’s drunk combined. 

“You’re so mean, why would you say that?” he whines. He grabs your arm tighter and shoves his head on your shoulder. 

Exhaling, you pat his head lightly before resting your head on his. It’s like the world goes silent for a moment as you run your fingers through his hair.

You’re both like that for an uncertain amount of time before Hyunjin jumps back up, his arms still around your arm. A large tipsy smile creeps on his face and he suddenly begins to giggle. The way his eyes light up almost makes you do the same.

“I think Jisoo is going to ask me out~” He sighs dreamily.  “I feel the vibes, you can feel it too, right?” 

You catch the way two of your friends, Changbin and Jisung, are watching you from the kitchen door. Sticking your tongue out at them, they return it with winks, eyeing up both you and Hyunjin. 

You turn back to the giggly blond clinging to your arm and shrug. “I’m not sure. I don’t really see her around campus.”

You’re not trying to sound like you’re completely disinterested in what Hyunjin’s saying, but when you already know where it’s heading, you can’t help it. You’re not really sure Hyunjin is even listening though when he sighs to himself and tugs on your arm again. 

“This is—” tug. “My chance—” tug. “For my Christmas romance, Y/Nie.” A harder tug.  “I can feel it in the air!” Aggressive shaking.

Breaking your arm away from him, you huff. Can’t you have one night before Hyunjin’s constant babbling about Christmas and Christmas romances?

“Can we wait till after Halloween to talk about Christmas, please?” you groan, causing Hyunjin to sneer at you. 

“Why do you have to be such a Grinch?” he attempts to whisper—but his intoxicated brain has other ideas. 

You attempt to ignore the feeling of his arms sneakily slipping around your waist again and the way his head seems to fit into the dip of your shoulder as you sigh.

“Ask me about it again tomorrow.” 

…

You really didn’t think the night could get any worse. But after corralling Hyunjin, who could barely stand on his own, back to his dorm, you were proven wrong. So, so wrong.

When you finally untangle yourself from his hold and hand him off to his poor roommate, Felix, it’s 11:58pm. Normally, you wouldn’t care to watch the clock for something so mundane, but you had a feeling he was going to text you the minute you look away.

And sure enough, the second you leave Hyunjin’s dorm building, you feel your phone vibrate in your hoodie pocket.

Hyunnie : it’s november 1st Hyunnie : it’s christmas time bitch!! Hyunnie : ah Hyunnie : sorry for calling you a bitch… Hyunnie : i got excited TT

You can only roll your eyes fondly. At least it’s November now.

one.

– november 1st.

Hyunjin feels sticky. 

Every year he rejoices at the start of the Christmas season, but every year he also forgets that the start is the one part he hates. The morning is so nice and icy-cold, everything sweater weather should be. But by midday… the sweater has to come off. Then he’s sweating in places he shouldn’t be, he’s itching all over, and he’s all grumpy and gross and he just wants to shower twenty times to try and rid himself of the feeling of his clothes clinging to his skin. 

He can see his breath just past his nose as he tries to rid his shoes of the mush that is the remains of fallen leaves. He knows he shouldn’t have worn his pristine white sneakers that you had gotten him for his birthday earlier that year (ones that he, not to mention, cleans frantically after every use). But they go so well with his dark grey jeans that he had to! The things he does for his passion for fashion…

When Jisoo first messaged him asking to meet up by the trees, it felt like a dream come true, one he’s been waiting for for so long. But now that he’s here, he’s not sure how long he’s been waiting, but he feels like he’s a Sim with stink lines coming off of him and he wants to scream. His controller must hate him because nothing is going as he planned. 

So when he finally sees Jisoo in the distance, he lets out a sigh of relief. He sees her try and keep her bag on her shoulder as she rushes over. When she’s finally in front of him, with strands of hair stuck to her face, her mouth slightly open as she tries to catch her breath… all Hyunjin does is blink. 

If you had asked him a week ago, he would have found this adorable. He would have screamed in her face and pinched her cheeks, before running to his dorm and spamming your texts about how Jisoo is the cutest girl he’s ever seen and how his heart has never beaten as fast as it does around her. 

But now he’s standing there, with the love of his life right in front of him, and he feels… wrong. There’s murky puddles and soggy leaves surrounding his and Jisoo’s feet, an angry draft blows past his ears as he tries to read Jisoo’s lips, and a stifling blanket that’s the same dirty shade of grey as his dryer lint trap smothers him from overhead. Nothing feels right, he feels icky, and his heart is fluttering for all the wrong reasons. All he wants to do is run off into the sunset, and not with her.

He barely even hears her as the whole world moves in fast forward while he stands there completely still. And he doesn’t even remember what he says before he walks away, his shoulder brushing against Jisoo’s in the process. He doesn’t even turn back when he hears her call out to him multiple times. 

He’s sure that when he tells you his over-dramatised version of what he assumes was Jisoo’s confession, you’ll do your exaggerated laugh that makes you snort and then complain that you snorted. You’ll look at him in a way that screams ‘I told you so,’ and he hates it so much that he considers not telling you at all.

But even he knows he’s a blabbermouth and as soon as he lays his eyes on you, the words will fall out of his mouth before he even has a chance to think. 

So he goes to the nearest pizza place by your dorm, and he orders your usual: half cheese, half pepperoni. You’re too indecisive to pick just one, so you get both. He orders his own pizza too and he sits and waits, stripping himself of his scarf and his hat before shoving it into his backpack and playing around with his hair, trying to get it to look right before his order is called. 

When he’s finally outside your door, he doesn’t bother to knock—he walks straight in and calls out for you. You rush out of your room, an oversized hoodie covering your frame with your hood up. 

“Damn it, Hyun, can’t you call before you show up uninvited?” you huff, instantly eyeing up the pizzas. “What would you have done if I wasn’t here?” 

Hyunjin shrugs. He knows there’s no way you’d be anywhere else. Your friends are his friends and they’re all in class or with their own significant others… not that that matters…

He hands you your own pizza and smiles at the way you smile when you fall onto the couch and stuff the first slice into your mouth. A muffled ‘thank you’ somehow escapes your lips. Gulping it down, you wipe your mouth with your sleeve, causing Hyunjin to curl his lip in disgust.

“Why are you here, anyway?” you ask before tearing off another bite of pizza.

“No reason.” He’s trying his best to do a Mary-Kate and Ashley and keep his lips sealed, but it’s no use. 

You just blink at him until the dam finally bursts. 

“Jisoo confessed to me and I turned her down.”

Still blinking, you furrow your eyebrows as you look at him in confusion. “But… isn’t that what you wanted?” 

Hyunjin keeps his eyes locked on the pizza slice he’s playing with aimlessly instead of actually eating. He can’t even explain how he’s feeling. He wanted, no, dreamed of the perfect confession, and he blew his chance. Because of… bad vibes? How do you even explain that?

“I… I don’t know,” he mumbles. He sighs, dropping the pizza box on his lap as he throws his head back against the couch to look up at the ceiling. “It just…” He pauses. “It wasn’t what I thought it would be.” 

“Is a confession ever going to be perfect, though?”

Hyunjin sits up instantly at the question. The way he moves so suddenly makes you jump, but he doesn’t mean to scare you. He’s just very… passionate…  about the subject. ‘Passionate’ may not be enough to describe it.

“Of course it can be!” He has to stop himself from blabbing too much. He’s sure you’re tired of hearing his speeches about this, so he just gives you the short version. “It’s the biggest moment of any relationship! With the right person, it’s always going to be perfect. Like, you know in your heart when it’s right, and…” he sighs, “I didn’t feel that.” 

He looks at you, and you nod. “Then… maybe you didn’t like her as much as you thought you did?” 

Hyunjin falls against the couch again. His voice comes out as a whine this time, “But that was my last chance at a Christmas romance!” 

Is he being dramatic? Maybe a little, Hyunjin figures. He’s just lucky it’s you he’s ranting to, because the most you do in response to this is huff and give him a look. If it was one of mutual friends, they would have slapped some sense into him by now. Metaphorically, at least… hopefully.

“This isn’t your last chance at a Christmas romance, you know that right?” you say. “You’re acting like this is your last Christmas, period.” 

He sinks somehow further into the couch. “Okay, fine.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “My last college Christmas romance.” 

“You didn’t have one last year? Why does it matter now?” you ask, reaching once more for your pizza. 

“Because it’s our final year!! That’s kind of the point of it being the final chance, Y/N.” 

Hyunjin knows you mean well, but you rolling your eyes at him as you shove another bite into your mouth isn’t helping his plight. He can’t help but frown at you, though, not only because of your reaction, but now because you’re talking with your mouth full.

“Here’s an idea,” you gulp down some of the pizza stuffed in your cheeks, “just fake it till you make it. Get someone to fake date you.” 

It takes a second for Hyunjin to process what you say. But when he does, he gasps loudly and sits up even faster than last time. He turns and grabs hold of your shoulders so fast that it takes all of your force not to fall backwards.

“You’re a genius!”

You smirk, shrugging your shoulders. “I know. No need to remind me.” 

The look of disgust returns and Hyunjin slowly moves his hands away from your shoulders like you just infected him with something. “Don’t make me regret saying that.” 

“We both know it’s true, though.” 

“I hate you.” 

“I hate me too.” 

He ignores your self-degrading comment and sighs. His arms find their way to cross themselves over his chest once more and he thinks to himself for a minute. He has a world of possibilities at his fingertips, but he knows exactly what he wants to do. Just… he doesn’t know how to say it. Might as well just rip the bandaid.

“So when’s our first fake date?”

You cough out whatever pizza you had left in your mouth and it takes you a moment to catch your breath again. When you finally have a moment to breathe, you look at Hyunjin. “Our what?!” 

Hyunjin simply blinks at you. He just asked the most obvious question in the world, and you’re looking at him like you just asked him to solve a derivative. He doesn’t even remember what that is.

You motion for him to continue, but he’s still blinking. “What?” he says.

“When I suggested fake dating someone, I didn’t mean me!”

“Of course it has to be you!” he frantically tries to explain.  “I-I can’t just ask a random person to fake date me when I have no idea who they are!” 

“So you just assume I’d say ‘yes’?!” 

“Oh, come on, please!” he begs, actually getting down on the floor in front of you. He links his hands together as he whips out his best puppy dog eyes. 

He waits and goes still and keeps giving you that cartoonish pleading stare. Then, you sigh.

“I feel like I get nothing out of this. You get your fake Christmas romance and what do I get? A fake boyfriend I didn’t ask for?” 

He goes still again. He thinks hard about anything that will get you to agree. He’ll pull out the big guns, if he has to. And that’s what he does, and based on the terrified look on your face, he’s sure he has a crazed gleam in his eyes when he says it.

“I’ll never complain about not having or finding a Christmas romance again!” 

Hyunjin can’t believe he said that. You stare at him, he’s staring at you. He’s sure you don’t believe him.

“Come on!” he huffs. “Don’t look at me like that!”

“You can’t keep anything to yourself, you really believe you’d be able to keep that?” 

Hyunjin nods frantically.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he hears you mutter before looking him in the eyes. “Fine. I’ll do it.” 

Hyunjin’s up in another flash, pushing you with all his weight against the couch as he hugs you even tighter. 

“THANK YOU!! You’re the best!!” 

And in the next moment, he’s standing, his hand out for you to take. “Let's go!” A confident beam is plastered on his face. He can’t say the same for you.

“Huh?”

You just keep staring at his outstretched hand. Knowing you’re not going to move, Hyunjin just huffs and grabs your hand, pulling you to the front door.

“On our first date, decorating your dorm!!” 

“HUH?!”

—

As you walk through the store, Hyunjin has his fingers entwined with yours so tightly that you almost think he’s cutting off blood flow. It’s almost as if he was afraid you’d change your mind and disappear if he let go. 

He beelines towards the Christmas decorations. You don’t know why he insisted on buying more when you still have the stuff that he made you get last year—you just forgot where you put it. But you live in a tiny college dorm, so it’s not like you had many places to look.

It’s whatever, you guess. You don't bother to question what’s going through his mind right now. It won’t end well if you do.

Hyunjin’s other hand is pushing an extra large cart you're sure you don’t need, but he got it anyway. He can’t possibly be thinking of filling up the whole cart, can he? You live in a college dormitory. Only so much can fit.

After what seems like a lifetime, you’re both in front of the Christmas decorations. With his hand still stuck to yours like glue, he starts to examine each set of decorations with his other hand, holding it up close to his eyes as if he doesn’t have perfect vision. 

“What are you doing?” you ask. 

“Checking,” he mutters, placing a box of lights back down on the shelf before picking up another one.

“Checking for…?” 

He huffs, drops his shoulders, and stares at you with nothing behind his eyes. “The perfect lights. They shouldn’t be broken and we need to know they’ll shine bright enough.” 

“They’re lights, Hyun,” you respond simply. “It doesn’t matter if they’re perfect or not.” 

Pushing your lips into a line, you stare at each other in silence for a moment or two—honestly, you’re not too sure how long the moment actually is. Hyunjin just looks away, placing the box of lights back onto the shelf. 

“You’re relying too much on everything being perfect.” 

You feel the way his grip tightens around your hand. He stays silent, picking up another box of lights before placing them in the shopping cart. “These are perfect,” he says, ignoring your words. “We should get these.” 

He pushes the cart further down whilst dragging you along in the process. Picks up another set of lights, checks them, and puts them down, before repeating this a few times before he’s happy with the one he’s decided on. He does this for many of the tinsel, for some random ornaments, and for random chocolates and candy canes to hang on the tree. 

You’re fiddling on your phone when he tugs on your hand, causing you to look up at him. In his free hand are two mini stuffed animal ornaments. He’s gazing at them with a look in his eyes you can’t quite place.

“It’s us.” His eyes find yours. There’s a softness to his voice that compliments the warm smile he gives you. “We should get them… they’re perfect.” 

This time, you squeeze his hand back. His smile infects you, and you’re unable to do anything but return it. Nodding, you return your gaze back to the two little stuffed ornaments. “They are perfect… like us.” 

“There’s that smile I missed so much!” he says sarcastically.

“Aaaand moment ruined.”

You tug at his hand, trying to get them to finally unlink. The sweat forming in between them is getting a bit much. 

“You can’t escape from me that easily,” Hyunjin says with a smoulder.

“Ew,” you fake gag. “You’ve been hanging out with Jisung too much. Only he makes the fuckboy thing work, bestie.” 

“Bestie- zoned?” Hyunjin gasps, his over-dramatic look you’re so accustomed to taking over his features. “I thought I was your boyfriend?” 

Your smile drops and you want to smack him and his teasing into next week. “FAKE boyfriend.” 

He turns from you as he hisses to you or himself—you’re not really sure which—before he pulls you further down the aisle. 

“You’re no fun.”

two.

– november 3rd.

Looking around your dorm makes you want to throw up. 

After Hyunjin took you (read: dragged you) shopping the other day, the boy immediately took the bags of stuff to your dorm and started plastering the stuff everywhere. Now, the room is filled to the brim with golden lights and colourful tinsel, and your little desk tree was just as flashy. Considering that your space is a tiny college dorm, it makes the space feel a bit suffocating, but not unenjoyable.

You fear Hyunjin took “deck the halls” a little too far and that your dorm will catch on fire because of it, not just because of the three separate Christmas candles Hyunjin insisted on buying, but also because of how dangerously close they were to the tinsel. You wonder what your roommate, Yeri, would say about this. Actually, you’re not entirely sure when you last saw her.

You aren’t able to dwell much longer on the thought as a knock followed by a crash and yelp pulls you out of your own head. You hurry to the door and open it to find none other than your Christmas menace, Hyunjin, sprawled on his butt in front of you. Bags with what appear to be baking ingredients are spread all over the ground around him. 

“Hey~” is the only thing he says, a sheepish smile on his face, as you stare at him incredulously. 

“What’s all this?”

“It’s…” he starts as you help him up, then trails off once he’s upright. He bends down to pick up a bag of chocolate chips by his feet, then he looks at you and holds them out proudly. “…Our next date!”

You roll your eyes fondly at the boy. Of course, he already thought up a second date idea so soon. Knowing him, he’s probably been planning this since he got home after the first date.

But still, you can’t help but crack a smile. Baking cookies seems like a fun little fake date—after all, it’s hard to make Christmas cookies into some sappy Hallmark scene. Plus, you get to keep half the batch at the end.

What could go wrong?

As you help pick up the rest of the ingredients off the floor, you notice a neatly folded piece of paper fall out of Hyunjin’s pocket. You stick it in your pocket before placing a milk carton and a brown sugar pack on the kitchen island, then you take out and unfold the paper, squinting as you read it.

“Is this… Felix’s recipe?” you say. The distinct way he loops his ‘Y’s gives it away for you.

“N… No…” Hyunjin tries to convince you, but his statement comes out as more of a question than a definitive answer.

You give him another incredulous look.

“Okay, fine, it is!” he huffs, throwing his head back dramatically. “I begged him for the recipe so we could try to make it together. His cookies always come out great, so it can’t be that hard!” He grins confidently, but that facade quickly fades. “…Right?”

A smile returns to your lips. “Right! Yeah!” You’re afraid your smile looks more nervous than confident, though. “Totally…”

“We can do it! I think…”

Hyunjin laughs a little, and you follow too, even if it feels somewhat forced.

“And if we fail, we’ll just get the store-bought ones!” he adds. “Easy as pie.” A small smile dances on his lips. “Anything for my favourite girlfriend~” he sings, winking at you playfully.

Any hint of your smile, real or not, drops at the sentence.

“Fake girlfriend.”

“Potayto, potahto. Now help me with the batter.”

…

“Are you sure you’re doing this right?” you say.

Instead of jumping into baking right away, you and Hyunjin have spent the past ten minutes overwhelmed over the instructions Felix provided. It’s not that they’re difficult or anything—fifteen steps to make some cookies just feels like a lot. 

Especially to two beginners, one of which is struggling to cut a one-pound stick of butter in half with a cleaver. You’re left to watch Hyunjin nearly slice his fingers as he tries, a near-grimace twisted on your face.

“I got it, I got it!” Hyunjin grunts as he tries to push the cleaver down.  “Almost… there…”

The way his fingers are so dangerously close to the blade makes you wince. After another moment, you can’t take watching him anymore.

“Oh my god, give me the knife.”

In hindsight, it was probably a bad idea to shoo Hyunjin away from the cleaver while he’s holding it for dear life. Knowing him, he could’ve found a way to cut himself even after he let go. Luckily, you both remain unscathed and you successfully cut the butter in half.

“What’s next?” Hyunjin asks as he watches you cut one of the halves. He peeks at the recipe over your shoulder.

You scan the paper for the next step, moving it quickly so he can see, too. “Looks like the… dry ingredients? We can start with the flour, I guess.”

“Flour…”

Hyunjin hums along with “Santa Tell Me” by Ariana Grande as he digs through the ingredient pile on the island. You glance up and find yourself giggling at the silly hand gestures he makes.

“Flour coming right…” he announces, letting out a grunt as he lifts the giant bag, “…up!”

You set the cleaver aside and rush to help him carry the bag. “Why’d you buy the ten kilogram bag?!”

“I didn’t know how much we needed!” He lets out a dramatic huff once you both get the bag on a stool.

“I’m pretty sure a normal-sized bag would have been enough, Hyun.”

“Look,” Hyunjin huffs again and runs a hand through his hair, “I’ve learned from Felix, alright? This is serious cookie and movie date business and we can’t make mistakes.” 

Fake cookie date.

“But there’s going to be mistakes, that’s just how it is.” You shrug, carefully opening the bag, then letting out a sigh as a lump of flour falls out onto the floor. “Just think, Felix’s recipes weren’t perfect straight away—” 

Hyunjin cuts you off with a gasp. A hand flies over his heart as he stares at you with betrayal. “Excuse you, they’ve always been great. You’re lucky I wouldn’t tell him you said that.”

You decide not to say anything else, but get the flour ready to sieve into the mixture. “Do you want to do this or I?” 

Even though he still has too much energy, he gently pushes you out of the way and takes the sieve from your hands. “Me, me, me.” 

Without bothering to do anything else, he takes a handful of flour and dumps it into a sieve and starts tapping at the side of it. 

“Hyunjin!” you gasp, “We could at least measure it first!” 

“Live a little, Y/N!” Hyunjin sways to the music. “You said nothing has to be perfect right away! I’m trying to follow your advice.” 

You blink, half-laughing, half-scoffing. “I didn’t mean to not follow the recipe! We still have to, you know.”

Hyunjin doesn’t say anymore, he just continues to sieve the flour into the bowl. However, by the bridge of the song, he’s so into it that he’s nearly forgotten what he’s doing. While he goes on autopilot, the flour soon enough misses the bowl entirely and lands on the kitchen counter and over his shoes. 

“Oops,” he giggles. 

“I’m baking with a child,” you mutter to yourself, arms crossed over your chest. 

He picks up another handful of the flour and looks down at the mixture before looking over at you. He stares at you, you stare at him. It’s like a silent battle. 

“Don’t you dare.” 

He does dare. However, instead of throwing it at you, he throws it up; and instead of landing on you directly, it falls lightly to the floor, just barely falling into your socks. He grins and a giggle escapes his lips. 

Whatever self-control you have leaves you at that moment and you grab your own handful of flour. As you step forward, he steps back, causing you to raise an eyebrow. 

“You’re not scared… are you?” you question.

He scoffs. “Me? Scared?” He fakes a cackle. “Never!” 

You take another step forward. He takes another back. 

“So you wouldn’t mind if I—” 

Rushing forward, you push your hand into his cheek, letting the flour fall from your hand and over him. Some of the remnants left on his cheek fall as he huffs. 

“That’s it.” He grabs another scoop. “You’re on.” 

You have exactly two seconds to decide what to do before Hyunjin stalks toward you, a mischievous grin on his face and handful of flour held high. You turn and start to scramble away from him right as he pounces, trying to grab you so he can dump the flour on your head.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” He giggles tauntingly. “Don’t you want a hug from your loving boyfriend~?” 

“Fake boyfriend!” you call over your shoulder.

Trying desperately not to trip, you make a mad dash for the living room, Hyunjin’s cackles ring in your ears as he bounds closer. You get two more big steps in and just as you’re about to leap for the couch, a strong arm wraps itself around your middle and pulls you back. 

“Got you~” Hyunjin’s voice is right next to your ear and you can practically hear him smirking in victory. You wriggle around, trying to free yourself but it’s to no avail. 

You’re able to turn just enough to face him and send him the glare he deserves. He just faces you, narrowing his eyes for a second, then that look falls to a more disapproving one.

“Are you ready to follow the recipe now?” the boy asks sassily.

You want to smack his pretty face so bad.

“I hate you.”

…

Surprisingly, Hyunjin keeps his word and actually follows Felix’s recipe, word-for-word. You’re happy with how the balls of cookie dough turned out, even though you just placed them in the oven—and don’t tell Hyunjin, but you ate a bit of the dough. It’s too good.

“And now we wait twelve minutes,” you declare as you start a timer on your phone. You leave it on the island and head over to the living room.

You watch, baffled, as Hyunjin spreads out tattered-looking physical copies of a bunch of Christmas movies over your coffee table. Once they’ve landed in a heap, he turns back and looks at you, the same way a dog does when it thinks it's done something incredible. 

To say you’re confused as to why he brought over DVDs when you could just rent the movies online is an understatement. Especially when he knew full well that you somehow had access to Chan’s Netflix account—you hacked it, but is it really hacking when his password is ilovefelix143?

Hyunjin’s eyebrows basically merge. Instead of being a little happy puppy, he’s now like a puppy with his tail stuck between his legs. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Your eyes shift from him to the movies and back.

“You…” sigh. “You know we have Netflix, right?” 

“That’s not the same thing,” he whines. “And you know it! The vibe will be totally off if we watch them all on Netflix!”

You might as well be a fan of BlackPink because all you can do is blink. “And it won’t be if we watch them on DVD?” 

Rising his fist, Hyunjin grabs your shoulder to shake you lightly. As you attempt to push him away, his grip somehow gets tighter. 

“Just pick,” shake. “one to,” he tugs your arm. “ start with!” 

“Alright!” You huff, flailing your arms around to finally get him to drop his grip. You point in a random direction. “That one!” 

It’s his turn to blink. “You’re not pointing at shit and you know it.” 

…

With a movie finally picked out, the title screen theme of The Muppets’ Christmas Carol begins to repeat as Hyunjin is in the kitchen getting the cookies out of the oven. However, after the fifth repeat, you’re ready to pull your hair strand by strand from your head. 

“Are you almost ready?!” you call out to him. “This music is driving me insane!”

Part of you wants to complain more, but you bite your tongue. It could’ve been worse—it could’ve been the theme of When Harry Met Sally on repeat.

Hyunjin appears at the door, tray in hand. “You can’t really go mad if you’re already there.” 

If it wasn’t a threat to the precious cookies currently residing in the tray in his hands, you would have thrown every pillow on this couch at him. 

“You say I’m mean to you, but then this is how you treat me!” You gasp, watching as he rolls his eyes.

You catch the way his lip turns up into a smirk when he sets down the tray of cookies on the coffee table. 

“I’m so sorry my precious girlfriend, whom I care so deeply about, how can I ever repay you?”  

It’s go time. Grabbing the pillow, you aim and whack him over and over as he falls onto the couch, his arms up in protest, but his laughter is still loud enough to seep into your ears. “Not the face! I’m too beautiful to die this young!” 

“I,” whack. “hate,” you huff and raise the pillow above your head. “you,” whack. “so much!” 

He somehow grabs the pillow, pulling it towards him. But with his strength, he accidentally pulls you forward, causing you to fall onto his chest. Like on instinct, his arms wrap around you tightly to stop you from falling off of the couch. 

You feel his breath on your ear as he lets out a chuckle and it makes a tingle run up your spine.

“I know you love me.” 

You’re up in a flash, using all of your strength to push him off of the couch and onto the floor. 

“AHH!!!”

You snicker at the loud shriek Hyunjin makes. Plopping your bum on the couch, you shoot your fake boyfriend a petty stare as you reach for a cookie and, very slowly, take a huge bite.

Holy shit. You’ve never tasted a cookie so good before. The way the gooey, melty goodness dances in your mouth is so addictive, you barely notice Hyunjin giving you a death glare from the floor.

“What?” you say with your mouth full, reaching for the remote.

“That’s supposed to be our batch,” he sneers nasally, as if he’s Squidward himself. You try not to spit out the food in your mouth.

“Not anymore.” You point the remote at the TV and hit ‘play’. “You can get the next batch.”

three.

– november 10th.

“Can we let go for a bit?” you mumble, causing Hyunjin to look at you. “My hand is getting sweaty.” 

“Oh, sorry,” Hyjnjin gasps, looking down at your hands. He lets go and rubs his palm against his jeans to wipe off the stickiness that has formed.

“Why are we holding hands so early, anyway?” you ask. “I know we’re telling the guys we’re ‘dating’ today, but they’re not even here yet.” 

Hyunjin blinks at you, takes your hand again, and entwines your fingers. “Because we have to make it look believable from a distance.” 

You try not to laugh. “You think they’ll even notice if we’re holding hands?”

He shrugs, locking eyes with the student worker that’s staring in your general direction. He attempts to follow their gaze. It seems like they’re looking at his and your hands. They could also just be waiting for the microwave oven to ding so they can serve someone their bagel. You never know, though.

“I mean,” he gestures to the cafe worker, “if that person notices, then our friends probably will.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I don’t think that person cares.”

“For Hyunjin?” another cafe worker calls.

With your hand still in his, Hyunjin gently pulls you with him to pick up a freshly-made sandwich for you, and bagel for him. He mumbles a ‘thank you’ before grabbing some napkins and heading for the seating area, scooting past students to the table for four he set his backpack on to call dibs. When the college cafe is always packed for lunch, claiming a table was more than necessary.

Hyunjin presses a finger to his chin as he thinks of where to sit, which chair will allow him optimal coupley vibes. After a moment of contemplation, he chooses one of the seats right by the window.

This prompts you to move to the one opposite of him. But before you can sit down, Hyunjin reaches across the table to grab your wrist.

“No! Sit on this side,” he says, gently tugging your arm.

“Why?”

“I told you, we have to make it believable! Remember?”

It’s a perfect plan. If Hyunjin acts as utterly sappy as possible, his and your friends will surely fall for it. What better way to scream ‘lovesick college couple’ than to sit on the same side of the table together? 

Also, how do you hold hands with someone who’s sitting across from you? Spoiler: you don’t.

But for now, you both eat. You plop down on the chair next to Hyunjin, albeit begrudgingly at first, and you end up finishing your sandwich fairly quickly. Hyunjin, however, takes his time. Not because he’s not hungry—he’s starving. But having half a bagel to work his way through is good in case things get awkward later on.

See? Perfect.

Soon enough, Hyunjin catches two familiar heads enter the cafe. He reaches for your hand under the table, lacing his fingers with yours when you take his hand with a sigh. He even considers subtly scooting his chair over to be even closer to you. Something in the dark crevices of his mind keeps begging him to do it. He’s not even sure why, but he scolds at that voice to wait a moment.

His eyes carefully follow Changbin and Jisung as they get out of line. They both wave at him, and he awkwardly waves back before they turn to each other.

After what feels like an eternity, Changbin steps up to the counter to grab two bagels. Then he follows Jisung to your table.

“What’s up, sweetcheeks?” Jisung says.

Hyunjin glances at you and when you look back, you make an expression as if to tell him ‘go on then’. Hyunjin however, decides against that, turning his attention back to the two boys sitting across from them. 

Changbin’s already stuck half of the bagel in his mouth to the point he’s struggling to chew. It’s disgusting, but for some reason it keeps Hyunjin in a trance. When that trance is broken by you swiftly jabbing him in the rib, he winces, glares at you, and looks back over the table. 

“About that,” Hyunjin laughs awkwardly. If he wasn’t already holding your hand, he would have gone for it to try and calm his nerves. 

“What is it?” Jisung asks, ripping a piece of his bagel off and chucking it into his mouth. “You two finally shacking up?” 

Hyunjin sits there stunned, only listening as you groan in disgust. 

“What is wrong with you?” you say.

Jisung smiles and sends a wink to you before leaning back in his seat. “It’s just my talent, baby.” 

Hyunjin keeps his eyes locked on his bag. This is fake, he repeats in his mind after the word ‘baby’ is uttered from Jisung’s lips. Why does it bother him so much? It shouldn’t bother him—it never has before. This isn’t real. It’s just a simple word Jisung has used to refer to literally everyone in your friend group. Hyunjin’s heard worse come from the boy’s mouth. ‘Sweetcheeks’, ‘’bubby wubby’, schmoopy poopy poo’... all Jisung said this time was ‘baby.’

This is fake.

Hyunjin feels you squeeze his hand. He squeezes it back as he finally looks up. You’re looking at him with your eyebrows furrowed, silently asking him what’s wrong.

This isn’t real…

Now his heart burns. He decides to blame it on too much cream cheese on his bagel. 

“What did you want to tell us?” Changbin tries to say as he gulps down his bagel before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Hyunjin glances over at you, and then back to his friends. He raises your enjoined hands. 

“So… we’re dating!” 

Changbin nearly chokes on his bagel at Hyunjin’s words. He looks up slowly, following your and Hyunjin’s arms up to where your hands meet, and he nods once. “Oh. Well, damn.”

Jisung, on the other hand, takes a moment longer to process the news. But when he does, his jaw slowly drops and he takes in a sharp breath. “Oh. My. GO—”

“Yah, shut up!” Hyunjin leans over across the table to slap a hand over Jisung’s mouth.

“…God,” the younger boy finishes his sentence quietly, his voice muffled.

Hyunjin maintains his stare at the younger boy as he slowly begins to pull back. No more screaming, he begs. He’s had enough of it for the rest of the year.

A tension hangs in the air around the four of them. Changbin goes back to carelessly munching on his bagel, and Jisung is gazing at Hyunjin and you, his very fake girlfriend, with an almost-maniacal smile.

“Soooo…” Jisung starts after a minute. Hyunjin can literally feel him gleefully kicking his legs under the table. “Who confessed first?”

Hyunjin pales at the question. He forgot to go over a cover story with you.

Luckily, before he can struggle to give an answer, Changbin swoops in and unknowingly buys him some time.

“Why are you the one who’s happy?” he questions. “I’m the one who won the bet!”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen. “You guys bet on us?!”

“We all did,” Changbin says. “Now Jisung owes half our group ten dollars each.”

“Wait, but we still don’t know who confessed first!” Jisung says.

“Why is that important?” Hyunjin says.

“‘Cause it was part of the bet, too!” 

Hyunjin stills again and looks at you helplessly. He squeezes your hand as if to signal that he needs you to come up with something, and fast. Something about how he had the most magical confession to end all confessions during the first snow that didn’t even happen yet this year.

“I-It was me,” you finally say.

Hyunjin has to stop himself from looking at you in surprise.

Jisung gasps loudly again. He’s so wholly entranced, Hyunjin doesn’t know how lucky he should consider himself for it. “Really?” 

Hyunjin watches as you clear your throat before nodding. You smile in a way that he swears he’s never seen before. You tilt your head and break your eye contact with Jisung to look over at him, then you look back at Jisung. 

“You expect him to confess?” You giggle lightly, gesturing to Hyunjin. “All he talks about is how he wants someone to confess to him.”

The two boys across from them are just nodding in agreement. That is true, Hyunjin thinks. He’s probably been talking about that since he started college, maybe even before. He can’t really describe the feelings that come from somebody confessing their feelings to you. 

“And…” you continue, “after the failed confession with Jisoo, I realised I should take it as a sign to confess.” 

You’re smiling to yourself as you shrug your shoulders, keeping your eyes down on the table. Hyunjin has never seen you act—and act this well. Jisung and Changbin are totally hooked, nodding along to everything you’re saying. They’re like two little children listening to a bedtime story doing everything they can to stay awake. You’ve got them wrapped around your pinky finger.

Hyunjin’s gaze focuses on your hand in his. He brings them to his lap and begins to play with your fingers, letting your words between the boys fade into the background. His mind is still lingering around the thoughts of Jisoo and the failed confession. 

He still isn’t completely sure what happened there. Why his crush, whom he was sure he was in love with, faded so quickly and so suddenly. He never thought falling out of like—or love—with someone could be that easy… but if he thought about it too much, he’d probably worry about the possibility of love. He decides that’s not a thought for now. 

“Woah,” Jisung says, his mouth hanging open. “That’s crazy.”

“That means you owe us another five dollars, genius,” Changbin says.

Jisung quickly turns to Changbin. “Let me grieve for my wallet first!” Hyunjin watches as Jisung rests his head in his hands in despair. 

“Why would you even bet on Hyunjin confessing first?” You can’t help but laugh. “You set yourself up for failure.” 

“Because maybe I had faith in him!!” Jisung exclaims, looking up at you. “I thought he’d have it in him!”

You glance at Hyunjin, smile sheepishly, and look back at the two boys that sit across the table from you.

“Well you should have known him better.”

“Ooookay,” Hyunjin says, suddenly moving to stand. “We, um, we gotta get going.” He turns to you, hoping you get the message. “Right, Y/N?”

You nod quickly and stand up too. “Yeah, we were gonna have a study date together,” you say as you gather your things.

“Okay, have fun,” Changbin says coolly.

“But we were just getting started!” Jisung counters.

Hyunjin lets out a sigh. “We’ll tell you guys everything tomorrow, okay?”

Jisung’s eyes narrow and he raises an eyebrow. The way he’s staring Hyunjin down is making him want to shrink up and hide. 

After a moment of awkwardness on Hyunjin’s part, Jisung opens his mouth to speak. 

“Tell us everything?” 

“Define ‘everything’, Ji,” you respond before Hyunjin has the chance to. 

“Everything means everything,” Jisung drawls out. “Like, come on guys, give us the details! The nitty gritty of it all!” He’s now leaning over the table as he pleads. “I just wanna know all about my two best friends’ relationship! Is that so weird?!” 

You share a look with Hyunjin. You’re giggling, rolling your eyes as you look back over at the boy. “Find your own girlfriend, Ji, don’t live through our relationship.” 

Jisung huffs, falling back into his chair with his arms crossed. “You guys are no fun.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” you say, and you both wave at the two boys. Changbin happily responds and Jisung, still grumpy, begrudgingly waves back. 

Luckily, this seems to be enough for you and Hyunjin to leave. Hyunjin swings your hands lightly, fingers still entwined, as the cafe door shuts behind you with a small squeak. 

There is no study date. There wasn’t really any regular ‘date’ planned—not unless the confessing? lying? to your friends counts. 

Regardless, you and Hyunjin look at each other and silently agree. You both deserve a sweet treat after that.

four.

– november 17th.

You wouldn’t dare tell Hyunjin, but once he told you about his “fantastical Friday date idea” earlier this afternoon, you’ve been feeling like a bottle of Coke about to explode.

Sure, he’s been a little crazy about hitting all the stereotypical Christmas romance activities, but this is ice skating! It’s fun and it’s romantic enough to scratch Hyunjin’s itch, but not too romantic. You’re only fake-boyfriend and fake-girlfriend, after all.

“Y/N?”

Hyunjin waves a hand in front of your face, bringing you out of your daze. You must have been staring at the fake icicles for too long.

“Huh? Yeah?” you say, blinking a few times.

He holds up two pairs of rental ice skates, one for you and one for him. “I already paid, let’s go put these on.”

You wander over to the benches where other skaters are lacing up. They make it look so effortless, but you and Hyunjin keep getting your fingers tangled in the long laces. And every time you attempt to stand up, your ankles feel so wobbly that you have to sit back down and tighten them. 

Eventually, your skates feel secure enough that you don’t wobble too much when you do make it to your feet. You look over at Hyunjin, who doesn’t look like he’s faring any better than you. 

“Do you think you can get up?” you ask. You’re starting to figure out how to balance, but you hold on to the edge of a table just in case.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin hums confidently. However, the deer-in-headlights look on his face as he slowly lifts his bum off the bench says otherwise. You’d laugh at him more than you already are if you didn’t do the same.

“Are you sure you can get up?”

“Totally!”

As if to prove you wrong, Hyunjin slowly begins to stand up. When he’s upright, he lifts one hand off the bench, then the other. Then he slowly shuffles one foot after the other in the direction of the rink, until he loses balance and nearly falls into the splits.

You try not to snort at his cry that echoes throughout the rink. Of course, you do the same as you try to follow him and your dear best friend returns the favour.

“HAH! Karma!” Hyunjin points and laughs at you before slipping and falling on his back.

“Hyunjin!” you exclaim, shuffling over to help him up.

“I’m fine!” he tries to reassure you once he’s upright again. He reaches for your hand as he waddles his way to the rink, this time successfully, and with you in tow.

You let out the breath you’re holding once your other hand finds the edge of the wall. Maybe you came into the rink too cocky, or maybe the old couple doing laps around you and Hyunjin made this look easy.

After you recenter yourself—well, after trying to—you look at Hyunjin, who has a death grip on your hand. “Are you okay?”

“Yep!” The boy smiles. “Very fine!” He slowly lets go of your hand, attempting to get away from the wall. He’s successful for a few seconds, then he finds himself wobbling again and he quickly grabs onto your arm.

Giggling, you try to shake him off. “Hyun, you’re gonna make me fall, too!”

He doesn’t respond for a beat. When you turn to look back at him, his legs are shaking, but he’s got a stupid smirk plastered on his face. Even when he’s visibly struggling, of course he has to do this.

“Oh, am I?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, fuck off.”

You try to free your hand again. Somehow, his grip gets even tighter, and he manages to slide his hand down your arm and thread his fingers with yours.

“You’re gonna be wishing you’re holding my hand soon enough,” Hyunjin muses.

“Whatever you say, fake boyfriend,” you sigh sarcastically.

The old couple passes you by again; they seem to be out-skating every couple on the ice by this point. As they go in circles together, they show off their best disco moves as if they were on roller skates instead. The old man, as he swings past you two a second time, makes a heart with his hands behind the old woman, pumping it in the air to the beat of “Mistletoe” by Justin Bieber as his wife continues to dance.

You don’t look back at Hyunjin, but you can imagine the stars in his eyes as he watches them. Instead, you pay attention to the way they move their feet. Push out with your right foot, then with your left. Right, left, right, left. With Hyunjin still gripping on tightly to your hand, you attempt to copy it.

“H-Hey!” Hyunjin squeaks from behind you. “What are you doing?!”

“Trying to get off the wall!” you say. You turn your head to look at him briefly. “You want to be a cute fake couple like those two,” you gesture to the old couple, “right?”

He stumbles over a ‘maybe’, but there’s no denying the way he wistfully watches the old man carefully spin the old woman.

You smile fondly. “Then come on. Watch how they move and try to do the same.”

It takes several laps and several more minutes to get into a rhythm. You can’t say that you’re gliding across the ice, but you’re holding your own without clinging to the wall. Barely. Hyunjin, on the other hand, suddenly seems like a natural. His graceful strides make you question if he was feigning clumsiness half an hour ago, or if he was just that good.

You try to catch up to him as you both make a turn and he looks back to check on you. He smiles at you and holds up a peace sign, flashing you a wink—and you freeze. You were already using all your brainpower to remember to keep moving your feet, and just like that, you forget everything you’re doing.

By the time you snap out of your daze, you’re about to crash into Hyunjin. You yelp, flailing as you try to brake. Hyunjin tries to catch you before you fall flat on your face, but you end up pulling him down with you and falling backwards.

Then you realise the position you’re both in. You’re on your back, and Hyunjin is half on top of you. You’re trying to catch your breath, but the way he tries to prop himself up with his elbows somehow sucks the air out of your lungs all over again.

“Hyun, slow down,” you say as he almost slips again. You catch his arms in yours and lose your breath for a third time. “One foot at a time, okay?”

You swear Hyunjin spaces out as you speak—there’s a gleam in his eyes you can’t quite place. But the gleam goes away just as quickly as it came, and he begins to regain his balance enough to stand up.

He holds out his hands for you and you grab on. He then slowly pulls, allowing you to find a way to get up with a pair of blades on your feet.

When you’re nearly upright, you take a wrong step and feel yourself flying backwards. You flail your arms as you try to prepare to land, but you feel Hyunjin’s arm wrap around your waist and pull you in just in time.

For a second, you feel like you’re in a cheesy Disney movie. The moment happened so fast, but feels so slow in hindsight. Now you’re here, your jaw dropped open in surprise, as your hands find their way to Hyunjin’s shoulders. Is this how Cinderella or something felt—

Wait, what the fuck?

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin says. His eyes search yours for any sign of hurt.

You take a beat to respond, nodding rapidly. “Y-Yeah, I’m okay.”

Hyunjin nods once. “Oookay. Do you wanna keep going?”

Right there, you contemplate just packing up and going back to your dorm. Even though the only one staring at you is Hyunjin, it feels like a thousand pairs of eyes are boring into your soul.

However, something in your heart, or maybe your brain, begs you to stay. So you nod.

five.

– november 20th.

Hyunjin stands and leans against the stairrail by the front of the university library. He’s too busy fiddling with his perfectly curated Christmas playlist, fall in love with me (this christmas), to even notice you pull up in your car. So when you honk the horn, he yelps and falls on his butt, then down a couple stairs, before sending daggers your way.

He watches as your passenger side window rolls down slowly and your shit-eating grin becomes clear from behind it. 

“You ready to go?” you ask.

Hyunjin, still glaring at you, slowly nods his head in response. 

“Then get off your ass!” you say. “You’re the one that wanted to go to this!”

He gets up with a dramatic huff and drags himself to the passenger seat of the car. The second he hops in, he leans forward and grabs your aux cord, plugging it into his phone and unlocks his phone, once again showing the Christmas playlist.

Meanwhile, you watch him in amusement. “You want aux?”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes at your sarcasm. But he answers regardless, too excited about the idea of a Christmas tree farm date. Another thing from his bucket list of Christmas dates to check off.

“Of course I want aux!” 

Clicking shuffle, he cheers to himself when the mystical violin intro of “Christmas Tree Farm" by Taylor Swift begins to play. Clicking twice to make the song repeat, he locks his phone before placing it in one of the free cup holders. 

“This is perfect!” He claps to himself, swaying the best he can to the music as he fastens his seat belt. “🎶And I’m somewhere else… just like magic… 🎶”  he sings along.

He looks over at you and you’re watching him again. This time he can’t tell if it’s in amusement or bafflement. “Can we go now?” 

Hyunjin nods, leaning back into his seat with a content smile. “You could’ve started when I got into the car.”

He lets his gaze linger on you for a second. When you look at him, he quickly looks away. Maybe he’s too impatient, but when he looks back at you a moment later to see if you have finally turned your focus to the road in front of you, you’re still staring right at him.

His cheeks begin to feel warm. Your gaze is practically peering into his soul, and you have your heater on full blast—it feels like a sauna in here. It’s not his fault you get cold so easily. It’s also not his fault a little voice in his head is telling him to use it as an excuse to be near you…

No. Bad Hyunjin.

He quickly shoves the thought away into a neat little box, something future Hyunjin will have to deal with. Right now, all present-day Hyunjin cares about is Miss Swift playing through the speakers.

And so he starts humming, which soon turns to quiet singing. Soon enough, the quiet singing soon turns into full-blown yelling of the lyrics. He’s here for the vibe, and the vibe is immaculate. 

“🎶AND YOU WOULD BE THERE TOOOO~!!🎶”

Good Hyunjin!

“Hyun, shut up! I can’t see the road!” you shout, your voice carrying over the music.

Hyunjin throws his head back in feigned agony. “Okayyy, okay!” he groans before bringing it down to quiet singing for the rest of the song.

When the music fades out, it’s silent for a moment. Hyunjin feels his cheeks hurt from how much he’s smiling. When it starts again, he bounces in his seat.

“Again?” you question, bringing his attention back to you. “Can’t we go to the next song?” 

He gasps and shakes his head. “Nuh-uh! It’s for the vibe, Y/N!” He nods slowly to emphasise his point. “The vibe!” 

You nod, your face full of confusion. “And the vibe is…?”

“That we’re literally going to a Christmas tree farm! Do you know how exciting that is?!” Hyunjin turns right to you as you pull up to a stop sign. He almost gets lost in your eyes when you look back at him. “It’s one of the key Christmas dates in the movies! And there’s a whole song about it!” He lets himself ramble on for a minute, trying not to get too lost in his fantasies. Despite his efforts, he soon feels himself about to spiral…

Then you look away.

Hyunjin lets out a sigh as he glances over at you. You’re focused on the road, your eyes flickering around as you wait for a good time to merge lanes. He knows that you only looked away to continue driving, but deep down, he fears that he pushed you away with his babbling.

He just looks down at his lap before he speaks, his voice trembling slightly. “Look, I… I know you hate Christmas, but—” 

“I don’t hate Christmas…” 

Hyunjin is surprised he can hear you with how quietly you’re talking.

“I…” You sigh. “I just don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with this ‘Christmas romance’ thing. Like, what makes it more special than a romance-romance?” 

“Because…” He takes a breath before releasing it. “Christmas is magical.” 

The song ends. He reaches for his phone and his finger hovers over the pause button.

“Hyunnie, you don’t need to stop the—”

He stops the music, ignoring the sigh you let out when you do.

“It’s just…” he starts, then trails off. “I…”

A beat of silence.

“You…?”

Hyunjin looks at you, trying to read your reaction. It’s hard to tell if your furrowed brow is from concentration or confusion.

“Like…” he starts again, then he sighs.

How would he even begin to explain that the warm, fuzzy feeling he gets from Christmas, is one he’s only ever experienced secondhand? How is he supposed to tell you that he hopelessly projects onto an array of chiselled brunet men in cheesy holiday movies without sounding insane? That he dreams of taking walks in the snow and under the Christmas lights and in Christmas tree farms with someone, like all the male leads on the Hallmark channel seem to do? Will it seem naive? Or childish?

At the same time, though, if all these ordinary guys can find love without even trying… who’s to say he can’t, too?

“It’s… like… why wouldn’t you want that, you know?”

But of course, Hyunjin’s feelings are so grand that he can’t find the words to explain it.

You let out a sigh again, a more sympathetic one this time. “I… I guess? I…”

Hyunjin watches you carefully as you find your words. He realises, a few moments later, that he’s holding his breath. Why is he holding his breath? It’s as if this is a big deal. But it’s not. It’s just you.

You shrug, and something in him twists. “I– I don’t know. I just… I can’t see it for myself.”

A thick silence hangs in the air. It seems to taunt Hyunjin, pointing and laughing at him like the playground bully for even daring to open his mouth. He bites his tongue for another moment or two, thinking of a way to lessen the tension. But after that, he can’t bear the silence anymore. 

The song begins again. Maybe he was right to feel like a child.

…

By the time you park, the mood inside the car is much colder than the weather outside it. Hyunjin shuts the door behind him and lets it slam, even though he knows you’ll be annoyed about it. He shoves his hands inside his jacket pockets and hides himself the best he can in the collar of his coat. 

In a moment, you’re next to him. Your own hands in your pockets as you silently glaze over the mass of trees that seem to go on for miles. You both stand there for an uncertain amount of time, just utterly blown away by the amount of Christmas trees.

In the corner of his eye, Hyunjin notices you hold out your hand in front of him and leave it there. He stares at it wordlessly, and after a moment or two of nothing, you make grabby hand motions at him like a small child.

“What?” he questions quietly. When he finally looks over at you, you’re too busy staring at the lights beyond the entrance to look back.

“Just come on. We’ve got a date to enjoy…” You pause and take a breath.  “Boyfriend.”

A breath hitches in the back of his throat. You merely mumbled that last word, but Hyunjin heard it loud and clear. You begin to bring your hand closer to his again, motioning silently for him to take it, and he mentally curses at himself for how quickly his lips twitch up into a small smile.

Slowly, he reaches over and takes your hand in his, linking your fingers together. He uses every fibre of his being not to beam like an idiot.

“Where do we start?” you say, not really aiming the question at anyone.

Hyunjin shrugs. “I mean, we can start with the Christmas trees…”

His comment earns a chuckle from you, then a light punch to the arm. It’s a pity chuckle, but he’ll take what he can get. “No shit.”

Chuckling too, he gently tugs at your hand. “Come on, the Christmas tree farm awaits.”

Hyunjin squeezes your hand lightly as he leads you to the counter. He slips a five-dollar bill in the donation jar before walking in the farm with you. The golden lights of the welcome arch surround him with warmth, just like the feeling of your hand in his, as he makes a beeline for the rows of Christmas trees.

To Hyunjin, you seem content with him guiding you around all of the large Christmas trees, even when he takes longer than necessary to take in the waft of fresh pine coming from a few of them. He tries to hold back at first, but eventually he stops at a tree and comments on how much prettier it would look with a string of colourful lights and candy canes lining its needles. Then you two stop at the next tree, and he babbles about how fun it would be to have a real tree one year.

He’s sure he has stars in his eyes much brighter than the one he’d put on top of a real Christmas tree. And he’s lucky that it’s just you with him and you allow him to ramble on, nodding along as he does so. Every once in a while, he looks at you for your reaction to something he said, and he catches the small smile on your face. Whether it’s at him or the children who chase each other through the gaps between the trees, he doesn’t care. He’s just happy that you’re happy, and indulging in his silly fantasies.

There’s a relaxing aura about being at a Christmas tree farm that Hyunjin never expected. Well, maybe he should’ve expected this from the movies he’s watched, but experiencing the warm atmosphere himself is different than seeing it on a screen. The trees around you two seem to lift the tension from the car off your shoulders. He feels lighter, more at peace. And, more importantly, so do you.

The sun has dipped below the horizon, making way for strings of lights towards the centre of the farm. Lines of a purple hue dip upward to a point that stands taller than all the pine trees that seem to go on for miles. Maybe there’s something there that Hyunjin missed.

The light glow catches your attention, too, and you start walking closer to it, keeping a hold on his hand. You two weave through the rows of Christmas trees until you happen to pass the last row, and you find a spectacle of sparkling lights. Lines of red and white make a tent shape and meet the purple lights at the top. Beneath them, two reindeer made of wire and golden lights greet you. They almost look like they’re cuddling under the tent of red and white—something about it makes Hyunjin’s heart sing.

“Wow…” he whispers to himself.

And somehow, without realising it, words leave your lips softly. Hyunjin is so in awe of the lights, he barely notices.  “🎶Under the mistletoe…🎶”

He almost doesn’t feel your head lightly rest against his shoulder. The reindeer… why is it reminding him of you two?

“🎶Watching the fire glow…🎶”

The faint melody makes Hyunjin’s ear perk up, causing him to turn and gaze at you. You’re too immersed in the trees and the occasional giggling child running through to even notice you’re quietly singing “Christmas Tree Farm'' to yourself. 

It makes Hyunjin’s heart race just like it did back in the car. However, now, he doesn’t have the car heaters to blame his red cheeks on. He’s thankful you're too absorbed in your own little world to even notice anything going on around you. 

“🎶And telling me, ‘I love you’ …🎶”

It’s like whatever is above is blessing him, letting him in on a little secret, in the form of light snowdrops falling from the sky. They land so delicately on your hair and shoulders and there’s a little flicker in your eyes that Hyunjin can’t ignore.

Never once in his life did he think he would see the first snow with someone. But now that he is, the hopeless romantic in him is screaming at him what he should have known all along.

“🎶Just being in your arms…🎶”

There is no big realisation. There is no big freak-out. There’s nothing to unpack or be scared about when his heart swells just that little bit more than usual. As he’s looking at you—still too oblivious to notice—everything just makes sense. There is no need for perfect, there is no need for the unattainable. 

All he needs is you.

“🎶Takes me back to that little farm…🎶”

He doesn’t need to second guess himself, or try to convince himself of anything. He just knows. All the stories he was told by his parents, the ones he watched in the movies, every little fairytale that he’s held onto his whole life is true.

Maybe it’s not childish, and maybe he didn’t need to chase his fairytale moment at all.

He already has it.

“🎶Where every wish comes true…🎶” 

As you continue to mumble the lyrics to yourself, Hyunjin squeezes your hand, finally bringing your attention back to him. 

“Thank you for being here with me.” He smiles sweetly.

Your returning smile makes his heart do laps. “No, thank you.” 

He squeezes your hand again. You squeeze his back.

six.

– november 23rd.

It’s only when the mass of people leaving your class dissipates that you notice Hyunjin standing out in the hallway waiting for you. He’s leaning up against the wall, focused on his phone. When he finally looks up and sees you, his smile grows and he pockets his phone, holding a hand out to you.

You raise your eyebrow and glance at his hand for a second too long before he makes grabby hands at you. A giggle escapes your lips. “Why do you want to hold my hand so badly?” You take his hand before he can answer.

“Because my dearest and best girlfriend in the world, it’s time for another date,” he muses, skipping slightly and rocking your entwined hands in a more exaggerated fashion. 

Humming and nodding your head, you lean into him slightly. “What are we going to do?”

He shrugs. “I was thinking we go to the park close to campus? Since the snow has settled and everything, we can just walk around for a couple hours until I have to go to class.”

It’s then that you register that Hyunjin called you his girlfriend. Not his fake girlfriend, just his girlfriend. You don’t do anything to correct him right now.

Instead, you look up at him, a pout gracing your lips. “But I was going to studyyyy.”

Hyunjin just shoots you a doubtful look back. “Oh, really?”

“Uh-huh!” you whine. The professor of the class you just got out of kept hinting at a pop quiz next session—considering that you failed the last pop quiz, you really didn’t want to fail a second one.

Nodding slowly, Hyunjin still looks sceptical. “Riiiight, okay.”

“I’m serious! We’re graduating soon, I can’t flunk out now!”

Hyunjin nods again. “Okaaaay, but you have…” he counts with his fingers on his free hand, “five days until then!” He stops in the middle of the walkway, stepping in front of you and taking not one, but both your hands in his. “Come onnnn, please? It’s just one day! And it snowed! It’s the perfect day to not study!”

When you respond with a blank stare, it seems like Hyunjin is forced to take drastic measures. So he tries one more very convincing line. “I’ll make you a hot chocolate when we get home! I know how much you love hot chocolate. Pleeeease?”

Something about the way his bottom lip juts out and his eyes twinkle with hope makes you want to cup his cheeks in your hands and… punch him. Yes, exactly, punch him right in the face. Hit him where it hurts.

But alas, despite your growing urge to lovingly ki…ck him off the fifth floor of the university library, you know even that won’t stop him begging you to ditch studying. So you sigh.

“Make it with milk, not water; whipped cream and chocolate syrup on top. Don’t forget the marshmallows.” That quiz will have to wait another day, but seeing the wave of happiness and relief wash over Hyunjin’s face right before he crushes you in a hug makes it worth it.

“Deal!”

…

The park is less crowded than you thought it would be. In your experience as a college student, you thought more of you would use the snow as a way to escape the stress of upcoming deadlines. Yes, you had to be bribed with hot chocolate to be here, but still. If you know, you know.

Regardless, you’re not complaining that you and Hyunjin basically have the whole park to yourselves.

“We should sit under there,” Hyunjin says, pointing to a cedar tree. Never mind the blanket of snow covering its needles that could fall on your heads.

You look up at him, your face sour. “Is that really a good idea?”

“Oh… right,” he says sheepishly, then points to a bench several feet away from it. “How about there?”

You nod and let him drag you there, ignoring the pathways and cutting through the grass. You take it as an excuse to hear the snow crunch underneath your shoes.

As you both approach the bench, Hyunjin slowly lets go of your hand to scurry ahead of you and wipe the thin layer of snow from its surface. It earns a cry from him at how cold it is, causing you to shake your head fondly. 

“Why not get your gloves out?” you ask.

“I forgot I had them!” He plops down on the bench with a frown and pats the spot next to him. “Sit.”

You take a seat, pulling your backpack off your shoulders and onto your lap. Reaching in the front pocket, you blindly search for his and your gloves. When your fingers graze the soft fabric, you pull both pairs out and hand Hyunjin’s pair to him.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, hurrying to slip his gloves on his hands. Once you do the same, he holds his hand out to you.

You furrow your brow at him. “We just held hands earlier?”

Hyunjin pouts. “But my hands are cold.”

“Is that not what the gloves are for?”

“Y/N…” he pulls out the bottom lip and puppy dog eyes again. Oh no…

Your eyes guiltily flicker between his outstretched hand and his face. His stupid, pouty face that is making your heart feel things you don’t want to think about. God..

“It’s coooold,” Hyunjin whines. “And it’s a coupley thing to snuggle when it’s cold, right?”

Fake couple. But you don’t correct him out loud.

“Okay, okay,” you huff, taking his hand in yours. He smiles and entwines your fingers together.

You and Hyunjin sit in silence for a while hand-in-hand as you take in the serenity. Sounds of children giggling faintly ring from the other side of the small park, and the blanket of powdery snow in front of you is still fresh and untouched. You feel so at peace here, you don’t notice you’re scooting closer to Hyunjin.

Wait. You’re scooting closer to Hyunjin. And you’re leaning your head on his shoulder.

It’s because it’s cold. Yeah. Your bum is freezing and you could use the body heat of a fellow human. It’s like how penguins huddle for warmth in the winter, except you’re not in Antarctica; you’re in a quaint little park on a snowy day with your best friend—fake boyfriend.

And as a good fake boyfriend does, Hyunjin lets go of your hand in response and slips his arm around your shoulders. You feel his cheek gently rest on top of your head. You instinctively wrap an arm around his waist—instinctively? How did you know to do that? What are you doing?

Right, you’re snuggling. Snuggling like any ordinary couple would do. It doesn’t matter if you’re a fake couple; this is how you fake it till you make it, as they say. So you just stay like this for a few minutes. Hyunjin’s making for a great cuddler, anyway. Is he worried about not being as good as the guys in whatever movies he watches? He shouldn’t. Because he’s gentle and warm and sweet and now he’s kissing the top of your head.

Wait, what are you doing?

Your eyes fly wide open. You don’t move, but suddenly Hyunjin’s too warm and you feel suffocated in his arms. Now, all you can think of is any excuse to get up.

As if the universe was answering your prayers, a small tennis ball rolls by your feet. You look at the light green ball, then the dog leaping through the snow to chase it, then a kid you assume is its owner, far away but visibly out of breath. Letting go of Hyunjin, you bend down to grab the ball, running a few feet away before chucking the ball in the kid’s direction.

After watching the dog dash after the ball for a moment, you feel something cold splat against your back. You gasp in surprise and turn to see a frowning Hyunjin.

“You left me for a dog!” he whines childishly. He tries not to smile, but lets out a giggle at the end of his sentence.

You stare at him with your jaw dropped. “He’s cuter than you!”

He gasps loudly in offence and chucks another snowball at you.

“Who’s cuter now?!”

You scoop up some snow and toss it at his chest. “Still the dog!”

He gets up and runs straight for you. You squeak and run away, looping around the cedar tree close to the bench to try and slow him down. He quickly catches up with you, and you soon feel his arms wrap around you and pull you back. You let out a squeal at the move.

“You thought you could get away with that, huh?!” he says in between giggles. You’re just as giggly.

“Let me go!”

“Not until you say I’m cuter than that dog!”

He looks at you and you look up at him. He’s trying to pout at you, but you’re both laughing too much to take him seriously. But there’s something in his eyes, or maybe in his silly back-hug, that feels different… but you don’t want to think about that right now.

Instead, you smile and poke his cheek with one finger.

“Okay, fine. But only just a little.”

seven.

– december 1st.

Hyunjin feels himself buzzing from excitement as he guides you, hand-in-hand, through the busy streets of downtown. He would never admit it outright, but ever since you came up with the idea of fake Christmas dates, watching the switching on of the Christmas lights was high on his list. He’s dreamt of counting down the seconds until holiday lights illuminate the city, and has watched them alone. Just… not with someone. Not with someone who means as much to him as you do. 

He can’t tell what’s louder: his heart thumping when your hand squeezes his as you both tuck and swerve through the busy crowd, or the crowd itself. After his realisation a few weeks prior,  there’s something new and addicting about how your hand feels in his—like they were pieces of a puzzle, like they were destined to fit each other. He can’t get enough of it.  He wonders if Christmas romance movie characters feel their heart beating as fast as his when he’s around you. And he wonders if it makes your heart race just as much, if there’s even a slight possibility that you look at him the same way he’s grown to look at you. 

A slight tug on his hand pulls him out of his daze for just a moment. He looks back at you, who points excitedly at the giant Christmas tree in the heart of the plaza you two had just walked past. Smiling fondly, he follows you to get a closer look.

Hyunjin stops next to you, looking up at the huge, sparkling tree in front of you. He takes a moment to marvel at the bright lights strung across the expanse of the tree, the tinsel hanging from each branch,  and red and gold ornaments sprinkled throughout. The tree stands at such a great height, Hyunjin can barely see the shining gold star perched atop it. 

As his gaze drifts downward, across the tree again, his eyes fall on you standing by his side. In that moment, under the glittering lights bouncing off the small ornaments, Hyunjin thinks you’ve never looked prettier. You’re looking up at the tree in wonder, twinkles in your eyes as you take in the sights. You’re unaware of the way Hyunjin beholds you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen. All the glowing lights surrounding you go dim in comparison every time you smile. 

To Hyunjin, you’re the sun, and he’s just a star in your orbit, circling around you and living for every moment your warm light shines on him. Without you, his world would be cold and dark, just as it was before you came into his life. 

Eventually, he tears his eyes away from you, focusing once again on the tree. Between the strings of bulbs, he sees flashes of a future he can picture with you: your first kiss, waking up to you in the morning every day, your wedding day and carrying you over the threshold of your home when you’re back from your honeymoon. He can see it all. Three kids, two dogs, and a hamster, family vacations, their friends being honorary uncles. 

Maybe he’s getting ahead of himself, but when he’s with you, he can’t help it. You are his forever and a day. 

Every time he steals a glance at you, you’re in a world of your own. You’re so focused on looking up at the pre-hanging lights that you let him drag you along without much thought. Not that he minds much, himself. The little sparkle in your eyes as you look around in awe is utterly adorable. Not to mention that you’re willingly out with him in matching Christmas sweaters—maybe reluctantly at first, but willingly nonetheless. He never thought he’d get you to agree, but now that you did, the oversized tacky sweater somehow makes you look even cuter than he imagined.  

He can’t decide whether or not to scream to the world about how precious you are, or if he wants to wrap you up in a blanket and keep you all to himself. He thoroughly believes the world deserves to see your brightness, but at the same time, he only wants you to smile at him. He wants to be the reason you smile so wide your cheeks hurt, he wants to be the reason to laugh so hard you fall off your seat. 

Hyunjin’s focus returns to in front of him, a small content smile playing at his lips. Not because of you (mostly), but because he already knows the perfect place to watch the switch on. He’s had this planned for weeks now—another thing he will never admit.

Ever since the announcement of the light switch on came on social media a few weeks back, Hyunjin has been on a special mission. Every weekend since then, he’s sneaked off to the city to find the best spot possible to see the lights in all their glory. (He had told you that he had been helping Changbin with some stuff; whether or not you believed him was another story). Somewhere not too crowded, somewhere not too far away. Something perfect—something you deserve. 

That’s when he discovered a small cafe, its entrance hidden in a small alleyway wedged between two buildings. He was surprised at first that it was open since there were no signs on the street to indicate its existence, apart from the small menu board at the bottom of the metal staircase. 

As he guides you into the alleyway, he hears you hum in confusion. Feeling your hand tense up slightly in his, he stops and turns around. 

You’re looking at him with furrowed eyebrows, concern drawn all over your face. With a light squeeze of his hand, Hyunjin sends you a smile. 

“Do you trust me?” he says barely above a whisper, squeezing your hand once more. 

Hyunjin’s smile widens as you don’t even hesitate to nod your head at him.

“Always.” 

Before you get the chance to speak, you’re already up on the roof of the small coffee shop. It’s surprisingly empty with how busy the streets are down below. It makes Hyunjin wonder why there aren’t more people up there, not that he’s complaining.

Even though you’re both out of the crowd, Hyunjin still doesn’t let go of your hand just yet. He’s too content in the way it feels right now, and he wants to soak up every moment of it, because he doesn’t know when he’ll get the chance to again. He could play the clingy card to buy himself more time—it’s something he’s done before when he was sick, and it’s worked—but it doesn’t feel quite right this time. This was different from his usual antics somehow. It feels natural, it feels right. But at the same time, he wants to jump around and do some somersaults, much like his heart in his chest is.

He quickly hides the way his smile drops when you let go of his hand and runs over to the metal railings, gasping at the better view of the hung-up lights. 

When you turn back to him, it’s like everything has disappeared around him and all he can see is you and your smile. He forgets how to breathe, he feels faint, and he wants nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and to kiss you all over your pretty face. He can’t do that, of course, but will he do it in his dreams later that night? Probably. Most definitely. 

He almost misses it when you speak to him, your smile growing by the second. 

“This is great Hyun!” You’re bouncing in place. “How did you find this place?” 

He shrugs and looks everywhere except in your eyes to try and calm his heating cheeks. 

“Oh you know, I just stumbled upon it.”

He can’t help himself when you hold your hand out to him. “Let’s watch the lights together.” 

So he takes it, letting your warmth dance around his hand in a mix of comfort and giddiness. He’s sure you haven’t noticed the new effect you’ve had on him, too oblivious to the world around you to know when someone is falling head over heels for you. 

There’s a part of Hyunjin’s brain that tries to remind him of the deal. A reminder that all of these events are not real, just as he wanted. However, Hyunjin decides to push these thoughts down into a little box, lock them up with a lock and key, and bury it in his mind.

The countdown is like a faint blur in his ears, the chanting taking a backseat to the person right in front of him. All he can hear is your soft counting, all he can feel is his pulse racing in his fingertips.

“Five, four, three,” Hyunjin squeezes your hand.  “Two…” You squeeze it back. “One.” 

At the flip of a switch, a blaze of colourful lights brighten up the town. But to Hyunjin, even they don’t compare to the awestruck sparkle in your eyes that sets his heart aflame.

eight.

– december 7th.

Since it’s the week before finals, Hyunjin insisted this past weekend that you two have dates every day this week. One, you suggested to stop the dates so you could study and he said no. That’s an understatement, actually—he practically got on his knees and begged you not to do that. Like, shook-you-by-the-shoulders, one-step-away-from-giving-up-his-americano begged.

It’s funnier now that it’s over, but you’ve never seen him more desperate for anything. Weird. Maybe he ate too many of Felix’s brownies that day.

When Hyunjin arrives at your dorm for your daily date today, the first thing he tells you is, and you quote, “Sit your ass down and wait until I finish setting up.” So, not wanting to deal with his whining today, you do exactly as you’re told for once.

You let yourself sink into your couch as your eyes lazily follow Hyunjin around. He goes in and out of your kitchen, places his laptop on the coffee table in front of you, and opens it. The screen lights up, prompting him to input his password, but instead of doing so, he heads straight back into the kitchen without a word. 

Huffing silently, you lean forward and type in his password: the month and day of both of your birthdays. It takes a second, but when the screen loads into an already-opened, paused, full-screen video of a fireplace, you furrow your brows.

“Hyun? What's this?” you call out to him. 

Almost instantly, you hear him groan in response. Then he appears at the kitchen door and stares at you with his arms crossed. “I told you to sit down.”

“Oops?” You smile at him sheepishly. “I’m a rule-breaker.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes before disappearing back into the kitchen. “A freak is what you are,” he grumbles.

You gasp. “HEY! I HEARD THAT!”

“THAT’S THE POINT!” he yells back from the kitchen.

Getting up from your seat, you make your way over to the kitchen, shivering slightly from the light chill in the air. You stay at the doorway, not wanting to sacrifice your feet to the cold tiles of your kitchen floor. Your eyes land on Hyunjin’s frame faster than you’d like to admit, and he’s standing over two mugs as he places  tiny marshmallows into each of them. 

“I thought I said sit down,” he says, not looking in your direction. You don’t want to know how he knows you’re there; you didn’t even move from the doorway. Maybe he saw you staring, maybe he just knows you that well… you hope it’s the second one.

“I couldn’t sit still,” you huff, bringing your arms across your chest. 

He picks up the two mugs, takes a few steps towards you, and gestures to them with his head. 

“Take these,” Hyunjin says as he hands them over. “Go sit back down, I’ll get some blankets.” 

“M’kay.” Your voice comes out higher than usual. Praying he doesn’t notice, you quickly cover it up with a cough. “I mean, yep. Mhm.”

You hold your breath as you shuffle back over to the couch, exhaling deeply as you place the two mugs on the coffee table next to Hyunjin’s laptop. It’s when you sit down that you notice the whipped cream and drizzle of chocolate syrup he added to top both of your drinks. As your gaze follows the steam lightly swirling out of the mugs, you can’t help but smile. He remembered your favourite.

Not even a minute later, he’s back, your duvet in his arms. Before you can ask why, he throws it down on top of you. 

“ACK!” you shriek. “I thought—” you attempt to speak as you wrestle your way out the duvet, “you were getting blankets!” 

“I got a blanket, didn’t I?” 

“But why the big one?!”

You feel the couch dip as Hyunjin sits down beside you. He helps free you from the duvet before he straightens it out, waving it once and letting it drape down across your laps. 

“So we can do this.” 

You just keep your eyes down on the duvet for a moment. It’s more than enough to cover both your and his legs, which you guess a throw blanket wouldn’t have been able to accomplish.

When you finally look up, though, Hyunjin is smiling at you tenderly. You catch yourself holding your breath again as his soft gaze finds yours. For a second, the brown hue in his eyes reminds you of the chocolate drizzle in your hot chocolate—comforting, sweet—maybe too sweet for some, but just the right amount for you. Has the brown in his eyes always sparkled like it is now?

Wait… what are you doing?

“Oh, u-um…” You blink a few times to try to bring yourself back down to earth. “Then this works, thanks, Hyun.” You take a mug from Hyunjin when he hands one over to you. “So what exactly are we doing?”

“We’re going to cuddle and drink hot cocoa by the fireplace,” Hyunjin hums, nodding proudly before taking a long sip of his drink.

You take a second to process his words, then you glance at Hyunjin’s laptop screen. “But that’s YouTube?” 

He turns to look at you and blinks. If you could reverse time, this would be the perfect time to do it. 

“Well, I know that, but we don’t have a fireplace.” He sighs. “This is the best we got.” 

He leans over, clicks ‘play’ on the video, and the delicate crackling of fire emanating from his laptop begins to fill the room. Maybe it’s not a real fireplace, but the heat you’re feeling from him sitting so close and the comforting sounds make you feel plenty warm.

Hyunjin settles back into his spot on the couch, picking up his mug with one hand. You lift up your mug, too, and softly clink it with his, taking a sip together as well. You’re so engrossed in the sweet, creamy drink melting in your mouth, that you don’t notice Hyunjin has casually slipped his arm around your shoulders until another few sips later. You lean your head against him and do nothing to shake his arm off, even though a tiny part of your brain screams at you to make it stop.

You’ve lost track of how much time has passed, but when the hot chocolates are finished, the crackling has faded into the background and the sound of Hyunjin’s faint snoring fills your ears. It’s enough time and space to let your brain wander. Iit wanders to the way Hyunjin’s cologne is a constant in your life, the way you always know where he is and where he’s been. It wanders to how every piece of clothing you own, and your whole life, is in some way infused with the essence of Hyunjin. 

Moving your head ever-so-slightly so you don’t wake him, you let your eyes gaze at the blond-headed boy for a moment too long. You can’t understand why he tries so hard to chase after perfection, when that’s already what he is. The way his eyelashes lay across his cheeks and the way his nose scrunches up at something in his dream—you can’t help but smile at the boy who has you wrapped up in his arms. 

It made you wonder when the feeling of his arms around you began to feel different. Hyunjin is Hyunjin, your best friend and nothing more than that. This fake dating thing is just that—fake. It’s a made-up relationship, a scheme to give Hyunjin what he’s always wanted: a college Christmas romance. One that started to feel a little too real to you.

There shouldn’t be feelings involved when it comes to fake dating. Everyone knows that. You can count all the romcoms you’ve ever seen on only one hand, but even you know that rule. But the way Hyunjin hugs you tighter in his sleep causes not only your heart, but your head to race as well. You’re suddenly too warm, the laptop is too loud, and you feel like the weight of the world has just fallen on your shoulders. 

Your breathing begins to pick up, but you’re pulled back out of it when you feel Hyunjin move beside you. Your eyes find his half-opened ones; he looks like he could fall back asleep at any moment. 

“Are you okay?” he mumbles before letting out a yawn, his arms still secure around you. 

You hum, pretty much shoving your head into his chest, your eyes focused on his laptop. “I’m okay, Hyunnie.” 

Luckily, the sleepy Hyunjin doesn't question it. He just pulls you closer and places a kiss on your hairline, sending your mind into another spiral. 

“Just take a nap.” You feel him yawn again. “Just enjoy this time.” 

When Hyunjin’s snore fills your ears once more, you let out a breath and do your best to blink away the tears swelling up in your eyes. 

This was a big realisation for your brain to handle on a Tuesday night. And you're not sure what to do about it apart from what you do best—ignore it and hope it goes away. 

nine.

– december 14th.

Before anyone can even say anything, Hyunjin knows he should be focusing on his art theory class. However, as he’s laying down across his desk with his head resting on his arm, he can’t help but stare at his phone in despair. 

It had been seven days—one week—since the magical movie night at your dorm. Since then, all of his messages had gone unresponded—actually, you responded exactly one time: the morning after when Hyunjin had asked about getting breakfast. You were busy. 

He mindlessly unlocks his phone, opening his message chain with you. Still no response or even a ‘read’ alert from you at the bottom. Deep down, he knows you haven’t even clicked on his messages if there is no ‘read’ alert, just like how his fridge won’t magically fill up with food if he doesn’t restock it… unless you turned read receipts off entirely, but that’s too much effort for you to do. 

He lost count of how many times he told you in high school to turn it off when you were in fights with your friends. You’d keep opening their messages and the fights would only continue when they saw you were ignoring them. You always brushed him off saying that there was no point, that they’d still know anyway. 

But here he is, staring at his phone, wishing for something, anything from you. At this point, he would take a ‘read at 3:25pm’ over the vacancy his inbox seems to taunt him with.

He only realises that class is over when the mass of people in the lecture hall scramble around him to leave. Hyunjin picks up his head from his table and sits there a moment longer. 

The other students make a beeline for the door, the professor glances at Hyunjin still sitting there and shakes their head, before following the students out the semi-open door, closing it behind them. Even with everyone’s presence in the room gone, it still feels just as empty as it did twenty minutes before. 

His phone lights up and a little bit of joy enters his heart, only for it to be smashed into pieces when the words become clear. 

Binnie : YO !! 

Binnie : free to get lunch or you with y/n? 

Hyunjin responds with a simple ‘i’m free.’ He locks his phone and shoves it into his pocket before throwing his messenger bag over his shoulder, dragging himself out of the lecture hall to wherever Changbin and the gang are. 

…

Hyunjin can hear them before he sees them. 

Jisung’s incessant screams and Changbin’s laughter are both way too loud for Hyunjin to put up with in that moment. But still, he wonders, following the sounds as they grow closer and closer and the two clowns (said with affection) become clear. 

Jisung’s too busy running around the picnic table, screaming about something with Changbin laughing so hard he has tears streaming down his face. Next to him is a silent-as-ever Chan, watching in amusement with a dopey smile present on his lips. 

It goes silent when Hyunjin drops his bag with a thud on the table. It makes him wince and the stares from three of his friends makes him wish the world would swallow him whole. It’s still silent when he throws one leg over the bench and sits himself down, bringing the other leg in before using his bag as a pillow.

Three, two, one… he thinks.

“What’s up with you?”

There it is. Hyunjin ignores the question as he tries to push his head further into his bag.

“Hyun?” Chan’s voice is softer than the other two boys. Whilst he knows the other two mean well, it’s a lot more comforting when it’s coming from Chan. “Are you okay?” 

It takes all of his strength to pick his head up off of the table and look at the eldest of the four boys. Hyunjin feels as if his default look is to frown and when the other two boys clock on, Jisung is sat down next to him in a flash. 

“Bro,” Changbin starts. “You look as if your mum told you you’d never see Kkami again.” 

This clown (again said with affection) really did not have the slightest indication of how to comfort someone. There was something unique about Changbin, he had heart, but brains? That and reading the room wasn’t always his strong suit. 

“I think what he means is,” Chan rephrases, “you look really down in the dumps. What’s up, buddy?” There he goes, talking as if he’s seventy when he’s barely twenty-six.

“Y/N hasn’t spoken to me in a week…” Hyunjin mumbles, letting his head fall back onto his bag. “Do you think she hates me?” he asks, but to the trio it comes out more like, ‘o u inks smates me?’ 

He isn’t sure who places a hand on his back—he assumes it’s Jisung with the angle. All he knows is he can feel a cold hand just barely pressing through his hoodie. 

“Maybe she’s busy?” Jisung says, patting Hyunjin’s back lightly. “She’ll send her usual emoji update when she’s ready.” 

Hyunjin only picks up his head again so his friends can hear him. “She hasn’t even read any of my messages.” 

It’s quiet, too quiet. When he sits up to look at them and Jisung’s hand falls from his back, Hyunjin’s frown just enhances. The boys look at each other, frowns present on their own faces. Hyunjin doesn’t think they completely understand the situation. But then again, neither can he.

“What do I do?” he says. 

“She’s probably busy with exams…” Jisung blurts out, looking at the two boys sitting across from them before looking back at Hyunjin. 

“Yeah!” Changbin pipes in. “Plus her internship! That’s probably keeping her busy too, especially since it’s close to Christmas!” 

Hyunjin looks over at Chan, he’s silent like usual. He has a sad smile on his face, like he wants to say something to calm Hyunjin’s worries, but he’s just not exactly sure what those words are. 

“Thanks guys…” Hyunjin does his best to smile.

Jisung brings him in for a tight hug. Even though he normally would have, Hyunjin doesn’t try to push him away. The coos from the two other boys make his heart feel just a bit warmer. 

…

– december 15th.

Hyunjin should have called first. But with how silent you’ve been over the past eight days, he knew you wouldn’t have picked up. So here he stands, two pizza boxes in one hand as he tries to pluck up the courage to finally knock on your door after standing outside it for god knows how long. 

He wonders if you’ll smell the pizza from inside and open the door yourself so he wouldn’t have to knock. A boy can dream. 

He clenches his fist so hard it turns white. Takes a deep breath, releases it. Takes another one. He thinks about how he’ll knock on the count of three—but then procrastinates even more by thinking about if he means he’d do it on three or after three. 

In actuality, he doesn’t need to do anything when the sound of your door unlocking makes him smile slightly. He knew you’d smell the pizza. 

When the door opens up wide enough, you jump back slightly in surprise. Hyunjin can barely believe himself either. He’s actually here… in all his anxious glory.

“Hyunjin…” 

Your face visibly pales, causing Hyunjin to frown. Did you really not want to see him that badly? Over a week of nothing and this is how you react when you see him again? 

He looks down at your outfit. You’ve got your puffer coat on and your bag draped across your chest, sending the puffiness out in awkward directions. “Where are you going?” 

“I– I’ve got class,” you stutter. 

“Oh.” Hyunjin’s shoulders drop. 

He motions to the pizza boxes in his hand and smiles sheepishly. He watches how your eyes glance at them before darting off in another direction.

“I thought we could chill and have pizza, like normal,” he explains, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I forgot you had class today and…” Hyunjin pauses. He takes another deep breath as he watches you, waiting to see if you’d finally look at him. “I was just wondering if we could talk… it’s been a while you know?” 

One of your hands comes up to fiddle with the hair behind your left ear. Hyunjin takes note of how you bite at your bottom lip. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” 

Hyunjin blinks. You’re still avoiding his gaze.

“Can we at least talk quickly?” he asks. He can’t tell if he’s grateful or not when you open the door wider for him to enter. 

“Okay. Just make it quick.”

He shuffles inside, placing the pizza boxes down on the coffee table that once held his laptop as their makeshift fireplace. Turning back to you, Hyunjin now sees how your hands are shoved into your pockets. Your coat is zipped all the way up so you can hide your face in your collar. 

“Where have you been?” The question escapes his lips before he can even register it. 

He’s watching you for every single change in your body language, every little muscle movement. Anything that will clue him into what the heck is happening. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, barely above a whisper. “I’ve been busy with schoolwork, and my internship is piling more on me because Christmas is coming up.” Just like Changbin had thought. But even then, it didn’t feel enough. 

“You could have said something,” Hyunjin sighs. “Anything. Even just an emoji like you usually do when you’re cramming.” 

He’s surprised when you have nothing to say. You’re just hiding in your coat collar and he can see the distressed look on your face. Hyunjin has never felt more confused in his life, and here you are, doing nothing to help. He feels as if he’s questioning every life choice he’s made up to this point. 

“Are you okay?” he speaks again after another moment. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

Hyunjin feels like tiny needles are being pricked into his heart, and your silence is pushing them deeper. The more seconds that tick by, the more his heart crumbles in his chest.

He watches as you take a deep breath in. He watches you as you exhale. 

“About that…” You gulp and take another breath. “We should stop this… we should break up.” 

Hyunjin can hear the glass house around him break into hundreds and thousands of little pieces. He’s sure that in all that rubble is his heart—pierced and splinted, bleeding out from each wound. Yet all that he can do is blink. 

“...What?”

For the first time in his life, he cannot read a single expression or feeling on your face. It’s like he’s been placed in the middle of the desert; no map, no compass, nothing. He’s lost, afraid, and so, so alone. And you’re just standing there, a mere few feet away from him, unable to even look him in the eye.

“We should end our agreement.” You’re fiddling with the strap on your bag as if to keep your mind from spiralling or wondering. “Look, everything with class and my internship is getting busier, and you wanted Christmas dates, right?”

You gulp again. Hyunjin is just silent. He can’t even nod.

“You got what you wanted. You got the dates and to experience a Christmas romance.” You finally look him in the eye, and it’s like one final stab to his heart. “So we should end this now, so we can both focus on the things we need to.” 

You’re finally staring at each other, battling it out silently for who can keep their hold the longest. It’s torture and Hyunjin’s never felt pain like this… it pierces into his stomach so bad that he wants to throw up. 

“Hyunjin—” 

Before you can even finish your sentence, you’re cut off by the sound of the door unlocking. Your eyes widen in surprise as Yeri, your usually missing roommate, walks through the door. She has a suitcase behind her, probably back from whatever adventure she’s been on with her girlfriend. 

You seem glad to see her back in one piece, but god, did she have the worst timing. It makes Hyunjin want to scream. Why now, of all times, did she have to decide to come home? Right when Hyunjin’s in the middle of being ‘dumped’ by the person he’s in love with?

Yeri looks up in shock, takes one of her airpods out of her ear, and grins sheepishly. 

“Oh, I’m sorry…” Her eyes flicker between you and Hyunjin. She’s not sure what to make of the awkward atmosphere, but Hyunjin doesn’t blame her. “I’ll…” She motions to her bedroom door to insinuate the end of her sentence, before dragging her suitcase behind her. 

When the soft click of her door closing behind her is heard, you turn your attention back to Hyunjin. You open your mouth to speak, but before you can utter a word, he shakes his head. 

“No.” He doesn’t even let you begin. 

He wants to scream and cry out, not only in confusion, but in what Hyunjin can’t tell is anger or just pure sadness. He doesn’t, partly because he knows Yeri is within earshot, but also because he doesn’t know if he has the energy. His mind is making so many laps and leaps trying to figure out everything that he just wants to lie down.

He gasps for air. His eyes feel misty and he wants to do nothing but run. 

“I get it,” he mutters, looking away. “You can have what you want.”

Hyunjin says no more, leaving the discarded pizzas on the coffee table. He ignores the way his heart stings when you don’t call after him. He doesn’t even bother to wait for the elevator, choosing to rush down the stairs to get out of the building as fast as possible whilst wiping his cheeks haphazardly with the back of his sleeve. 

He once again wants the world to swallow him whole—or for him to sleep for the rest of the Christmas season. Because, honestly, none of it seems worth it anymore.

ten.

– december 18th.

How is it possible that three days can feel like an eternity? 

‘We should end this.’ Your voice repeats in Hyunjin’s brain in a constant loop. It torments him when he’s awake and stays to haunt him in his dreams. ‘We should break up.’ 

The first day felt like torture. All he wanted to was rant about you, to you. Sure, he could go to his other friends, but when you’re his first choice… what could he do? He couldn’t call or text you now that he wants to more than over. He wanted to cry at the sound of your voice and beg you to reconsider—to go on real dates with him—to have a real Christmas romance. 

‘You got what you wanted.’

Day two was just as hard. When he hadn’t blown up the group chat over some random thing in over twenty-four hours, this was when his friends got worried. So they blew up his phone instead with a mixture of concern and heartfelt care, and whatever you call Jisung’s messages. Hyunjin decided to ignore them, but kept checking his phone on the off-chance he’d get a text from you. Eventually, he turned over his phone and rolled over in his bed, shutting his eyes and hoping the world would disappear for a bit. 

‘You got the dates, you got to experience a Christmas romance.’

Now here he sits, on day three, in the trio’s shared off-campus apartment. He only begrudgingly got out of bed when Jisung threatened to start screaming outside his door. He’s lying sideways across the couch, his feet propped up against the armchair. He hasn’t washed his hair in too long, he vaguely thinks a family of birds might nest in it someday, and his grey sweats have a big blotch of brown on one leg. He spilled hot Americano on himself when he got home after your breakup, but he didn’t have the energy to change out of them.

He knows he shouldn’t be calling it a breakup when you two were never really together. But when his feelings are completely and utterly real, it really feels like one. He feels his eyes start to become misty again, and he shoves his head into his sweater paws as he tries to bury himself in the sofa more. 

‘So we should end this now.’

Chan, Changbin, and Jisung are all watching from the barely-used dining table. They are at a loss for words, they hadn’t thought about the possibility of you and Hyunjin ever breaking up. To everyone in the friend group, you two were set for life, ride-or-dies, the sunshine to the flowers. To them, there was never any possibility of a break up. They just didn’t get it. 

Changbin takes a sip of his protein shake through a bright pink curly straw, and huffs. “This is weird, dudes.” He looks over at the two other boys, who still have their eyes on Hyunjin. “He’s never been like this with anyone.” 

“Y/N isn’t just anyone, though,” Chan responds.

“Yeah,” Jisung sighs, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. His eyes still bore into Hyunjin. “They’re, like, totally made for each other.”  

Hyunjin brings his hands away slightly, sending the best glare he could manage. To the boys, however, it was more pitiful than scary, like a kicked puppy. All they want to do is scoop him up and never let him go until his heart is unbroken.  

“You know I can hear you, right?” Hyunjin asks. “And to be honest, I really don’t like all this mumbling.” 

The boys don’t hold his bad mood against him. He’s upset, frustrated, and they know he’ll apologise when he’s feeling better. Chan takes the lead, opening his mouth to speak before the other two dummies could say anything to make Hyunjin more upset. 

“We’re sorry, we’re just confused on why you guys broke up,” he explains. The other two boys nod their heads as the eldest speaks. “You two have always seemed so perfect for each other.” 

They notice how Hyunjin’s shoulders drop and he goes to hide his face in his sweater paws again. His words come out all muffled and Chan, Changbin, and Jisung all glance at each other to see if any of them understood what he said.

“What was that?” Chan asks. Hyunjin yanks his sweater paws away from his face, turning his head sharply at the boys.

“We never broke up, okay?!”

The trio can now really see how glassy Hyunjin’s eyes have become. They exchange concerned glances with each other, frowns of their own also covering their faces.

“W-Wait. What do you m—” 

Hyunjin cuts Chan off with a hiccup. 

“We— we were never really together... So w-we never really broke up.” 

The boys are stunned, confused and so completely stunned. They don’t know where to even begin to wrap their heads around the confession. But it also leads them to the next question, if it was all fake… why was Hyunjin so distraught now that it was over? 

Now it didn’t take a genius to figure that out, but it was better to hear it from Hyunjin himself.

“Okay,” Chan gulps, “do you want to start from the beginning?” 

So Hyunjin starts from the beginning. He starts off with the confession from Jisoo that was totally not the vibe. He talks about how he went to you to whine about how he was losing his chance for a college christmas romance, to how you suggested he should fake date someone to get the experiences he wanted. To how he had decided you were his perfect person for the task. 

“Why didn’t you just tell us it was fake, man?” Changbin asks, “it wouldn’t have been that much of a deal.” 

Hyunjin sighs, falling back into the chair and letting his head fall backwards so he can look up at the ceiling. 

“I don’t know, just wanted it to seem more realistic I guess.” He sighs. 

“Well…” Jisung continues, “what happened next?” 

So Hyunjin continues with his story. He talks about the decorating of your dorm, he ignores the comment from Jisung about that’s how your apartment got that way. He goes on to talk about the movie night and the cookies to the ice skating, and he talks about the Christmas tree farm. 

“From there…” Hyunjin slows down and pauses. 

The trio is silent, waiting for the blond to admit what they all know. They’re not sure how long he’s silent for, it could have been only a second, but in that moment it could have also been a lifetime. 

“From there… It was different.” 

He looks over to the three boys at the dining table. He felt like his heart was cracking in a whole new different way. When he was keeping it to himself, he could shove it into a little box and act as if it was something future-Hyunjin had to deal with. But now this present version of him hated past him for even thinking about putting the emotions aside to begin with. 

“I don’t know when it happened, or if it happened long before I even realised it, but she’s different. She’s her version of perfect and now it’s blown up in my face.” Hyunjin’s frown is contagious. “I– I love her and now she wants nothing to do with me anymore.” 

“I’m sure that’s not true…” Changbin tries to sympathise, but Hyunjin just shakes his head. 

“You should have seen her, she would barely look at me.” Hyunjin begins to hiccup again. “She’s the love of my life and it ended before it even started.” 

Jisung opens his mouth to speak, but Chan quickly nudges him in the side to be quiet. When Jisung looks at the older boy, all Chan does is shake his head. A look on his face saying let him get this out. 

“Ever since the Christmas tree farm, she’s been different, she’s amazing and kind–” Hyunjin hiccups, blinking away the tears he could feel welling up in his eyes. “She has this sparkle about her and even though I know it annoyed her, she still let me go on and on about how I wanted a perfect college Christmas romance when with her… I don’t need perfection.” 

“What are you going to do?” 

Hyunjin feels like curling up into a ball. He wishes for his friends to stop staring at him. He wants to hide, he wants to cry, and he wants to eat his body weight in a food that isn’t going to remind him of you– not that there were many types of those things. 

“I need to give her the space she wanted,” Hyunjin states. “She can do the things she needs to: focus on work and her internship. And I'll wait…” 

“Wait for her?” Jisung says.

Hyunjin nods. “I’ll wait forever if I have to.” 

eleven.

– december 14th.

When the soft click of her door closing behind her is heard, you turn your attention back to him. You open your mouth to speak, but before you can utter a word, he shakes his head.

“No.” He doesn’t even let you begin.

He gasps for air and you can see him blinking rapidly. You feel your heart tear in two.

“I get it,” he mutters. “You can have what you want.”

Before you can utter another word, he’s out the door. You’re sure the pizza he leaves behind is cold by now, but even if you were hungry a few minutes ago, you’re not anymore. What you want more is for him to turn around, to come back when you call out to him.

But he’s gone. It’s too late.

“Okay, so what was that all about?” Yeri’s voice breaks you out of your trance. 

You’re not sure how long it’s been since Hyunjin left your dorm, your door is still wide open, and you haven’t even moved a muscle. Even though you have class in twenty minutes—that part you didn’t lie about—you want nothing but to run into your room and hide there for the rest of the year.

You clear your throat and your hands go back to the strap of your bag to keep them entertained. “I… I don’t know what you’re on about.”

You haven’t even turned to look at her and you know that she knows you’re lying through your teeth.  

“Uh huh,” Yeri tuts. 

You hear her footsteps get closer to you before she’s come up beside you and is now in eye view. 

“So no trouble going on with Mr Blond Best Friend, then?” she continues to question. 

You stay silent in response, not trusting your own voice. Your eyes start to feel wet. You were able to keep up an act in front of Hyunjin, but now that he’s gone and the vision of his teary eyes keeps repeating in your mind, it’s getting more and more difficult to pretend. 

“Nothing’s going on,” you clear your throat again. Tugging on your crossbody bag, you look at her once before rushing to the door. “I need to go to class, glad to see you back.” 

Yeri can’t even get another word out as you rush out the door, slamming it behind you. You unknowingly take the same route as Hyunjin, rushing down the stairs to get out of the building as quickly as possible. 

Once the cold air hits you, you take a deep breath and wipe your cheeks with the back of your hands. 

You had to, it was the only option.

“Hyunjin!” you call out, looking all around you. Several students push by you, some wearing holiday pyjamas or Santa hats. You don’t understand how they can feel even an ounce of Christmas spirit right now.

You try running somewhere, anywhere, ducking and weaving through the pack of students making their way to wherever they want to go. There are hundreds of students out, yet you can pick out one blond head from the crowd.

“Hyunjin!”

You run faster. Before you’re able to process it, someone on an electric scooter whizzes by, knocking you off your feet. You yelp and stretch your arms out to catch yourself.

And now you’re on the ground. Groaning, you slowly move to get up. Hundreds of students pass by where you lie, but not one stops to help you. Until…

“Oh my god, Y/N!”

You light up for a second at the familiar voice. Once you realise who it is, you roll over, deflated.

Jisung gasps. “You look like death! What happened to you?!”

You blink once. “Gee, thanks,” you say flatly.

The boy stares at you for a second before finally reaching a hand out. You take it and he pulls you up.

“O-Okay, but seriously, what happened?” he says. “Are you okay?”

You search his eyes for a moment before shrugging. What are you supposed to say to Jisung? That you just ruined your friendship with the love of your life?

“It’s about Hyunjin, isn’t it?” Jisung says, his voice softer. The way he’s watching you makes you tear up all over again. He seems to let you process for another moment before reaching over, rubbing your shoulder gently.

“Look,” he sighs, “I… I know you two weren’t real. I honestly thought you were, though.” He then mutters something along the lines of, “So I didn’t owe our friend group sixty dollars after all.”

“That’s your first thought right now?”

“Wait, nonono!” Jisung’s stance changes in a snap and begins frantically smoothing out your outfit, ruffling your messy hair and making it even messier. “It’s okay, it’s okay, everything will beeee okaaayyy.”

You groan and roll your eyes fondly, but you let him continue.

“Okay, but for real now…” He rubs your shoulder again. “I think you should tell him.”

A breath hitches in the back of your throat. “Tell him… what exactly?”

He sighs deeply. “You know what I mean, Y/N.”

It’s your turn to sigh, and you look down at your shoes as your eyes well up again. Jisung smiles sadly at you and pulls you into a hug.

“He misses you, you know that?” he says. You nod, shoving your face in his shoulder before he can see you cry. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell him you miss him, too. That’s your job.”

In between sobs, you nod.

“And once you two get together, I can get my damn money back,” Jisung grumbles.

You let out a wet chuckle and hold onto him for another minute. You’re terrified of what may happen, but no amount of fear in your body is worth the heartbreak you feel right now.

twelve.

– december 24th.

Hyunjin feels… something. 

Every year on Christmas Eve, the boy would scramble to get to bed early, so he could be asleep by the time Santa comes. Obviously, though, he’s since outgrown that tradition, but now he stays up till midnight like every other teenager and college student, counting down the seconds to Christmas Day. It’s as if Christmas is Hyunjin’s pre-New Year of sorts. He may not believe in Santa anymore, but the childlike wonder and excitement he gets during this time of year has never changed. He’s all jumpy and hyper and jittery like a kid who ate too much candy, eagerly awaiting the day that the movies and the lights and the snow have made so magical.

And this year, for the first time ever, he might not be counting down alone.

Going the past week without hearing the sound of your voice felt like walking barefoot through a pit full of Legos—doubly so because he saw you on campus during finals week talking to Jisung once. Jisung! Out of everyone in your friend circle, of course you were still talking to the one who flirts with everyone for fun. At least he didn’t wink at you this time…

But after what felt like aeons of being sent to voicemail, you finally called him back six days, sixteen hours, and forty-seven minutes ago. You said something about meeting up for lunch the day after or something; he barely remembers anything from that call other than that you called. That lunch at the university cafe wasn’t much different. He was so relieved that you were in front of him talking to him again that he wasn’t paying much attention to what you were actually saying.

…Okay, maybe that’s a lie. You rearranged the Christmas decorations he had thrown all over your dorm on your first date, you got all your Christmas shopping done, and you have a super-duper special date planned for Christmas Eve. Dress warm. You’ll pick him up at 8 for dinner. And you’ll both be getting home late.

Hyunjin can see his breath just past his nose as he checks out his reflection in the glass window panes of the university library. He picked out his best winter coat for tonight—the one that goes with almost any outfit he could put together, but also doesn’t take the limelight off of yours. He also broke out the pristine white sneakers—you know, the ones he cleans frantically after every use. Were they going to get dirty in the snow? Maybe a little. But it’s you, and they go so well with his sweater and jeans. You deserve his best fit.

He knows nothing about what your plan is for tonight. All he knows is that you’ll be here in five minutes, his stomach is doing flips inside him, and he’s got shivers going up his spine.

Hyunjin feels something—he just can’t name what that something is. All the adjectives he can think of don’t feel quite right. The closest he can get is ‘tingly’, and even then, he can’t explain why he landed on that particular word. But when you pull up at the library and roll down your window, all the words he’s ever learned fly out the door.

No combination of letters could capture how beautiful you are to him.

…

Hyunjin is surprised to find himself back in the heart of downtown. This time, it’s after a lovely meal and hours-long conversation with you, and you’re the one guiding him around now.

He swivels his head around as he lets you lead, taking in all the glittery Christmas lights the same way you are. Quickly, he recognizes you’re taking the same path he once did to the cafe where you two watched the light switch. He feels like he’s on the Polar Express to the North Pole—yes, of course he was watching the movie before your date tonight. It’s a Christmas must.

Wait… fake date. He nearly forgot these dates aren’t real.

He’s not sure why he let himself get away with calling all these real dates. Clearly, it made you uncomfortable to the point where you felt the need to fake-break up with him. He’s also not sure if he should consider himself lucky that the breakup wasn’t real.

Does this mean the fake Christmas romance thing is back on? You two never actually discussed it, but you did also ask him on a… fake date.

Despite this, there’s still something in the air that’s giving him that tingly feeling. He’s still not sure if that’s the right word. He just knows that standing right next to you on the balcony of an abandoned cafe to witness the arrival of Christmas Day… it feels so, so right. Almost like everything is falling into place.

“Hyunnie… can we talk?”

—

Hyunjin turns to you, his gaze soft, and you freeze in place. Did you really just say that? Now?  What if you ruin Christmas Eve and Christmas because you didn’t wait?

You sigh to yourself, a small puff of air escaping your mouth. You know that this was something you needed to do, both for yourself and your peace of mind. Maybe Jisung, too, and whatever lost money he was moping about that one time. But there’s still ten minutes to midnight. Is that too soon?

No. It’s not. If anything, it’s long overdue. No more running. Plus, if he’s truly your best friend and he doesn’t like you back, nothing should change… right? At least, not for the long term.

“Is everything okay?”

Hyunjin’s honey voice pulls you out of your thoughts. Hyunnie, sweet like honey… wait, Y/N, don’t get distracted. It’s almost midnight.

Take a deep breath.

“Hyunnie, um…” You fiddle with a small object in your pocket as you try to think.

When you look up, he’s nodding. “Yeah?”

Deep breath.

“I’m sorry… I'm sorry for ghosting you and stopping this so suddenly.” You’re blinking and Hyunjin watches as you open your mouth to speak before closing it again. Like the words are at the tip of your tongue, but the courage just hasn’t bubbled up enough. “I…” You take a breath, looking up at anywhere but him as you mumble to yourself, “God, this is so much harder than I thought it’d be.”

You take a little shuffle forward.

“I… I think I realised too late, and by the time I realised, I freaked out and just… I shut down.” You look at him, your eyes boring into each other like you’re both trying to find the centre of each other’s soul. It's too much for you to stomach while you struggle to pull words out of your throat, so you let your gaze fall.

“Realised what?” Hyunjin whispers. You somehow hear it over the crowd of people forming below you.

You shuffle forward unconsciously again, keeping your eyes down. 

“Do— do you hate me?” Hyunjin says.

Eyes wide, you snap your head up and shake your head quickly. “N-No! Of course not.” “Then what—”

Your gaze shoots down and your hand goes for Hyunjin’s. A small gasp leaves his mouth before your brain catches up with the rest of you.

When you finally have the courage to look back up, it’s like everything has blurred into the background. Everything except the boy in front of you, who looks about as shocked as you are at yourself. Is this it? Is this going to be your Hallmark moment?

Deep breath.

“I love you.”

Hyunjin’s eyes grow wider, his mouth opening and closing like a fish a couple times. He probably thinks someone took over your body, that this isn’t really you.

“You… love me?”

You nod and smile. It’s hard to tell if he’s still in disbelief, but honestly, you can barely believe you’re saying these words. But you mean every single one of them.

“I do… and there’s no one else I’d rather have a Christmas romance with.”

There’s a feverish look grazing Hyunjin’s face, his mouth opened just slightly as he gasps quietly. You swear you can see little stars adorning his pretty brown eyes.

“Well,” you clarify quickly, “a college Christmas romance. But I don’t think I want this to end after we graduate.”

Hyunjin’s eyes are crinkling at the edges, his nose scrunching just slightly with the force of his joy. You’re sure of two things in that moment. One, your own expression must look just as lovesick as his. And two, you’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as Hyunjin under the glow of the lights surrounding the plaza. 

“Y/N, I… can I kiss you?”

From somewhere in the streets below, you recognize the gathered crowd beginning the countdown to midnight. You barely pay it half a mind as you pull the object from your pocket. Hyunjin’s eyes follow you as you hold it up over your heads. It’s a small sprig of mistletoe, and you can’t help the proud smile that sweeps across your face.

“You know, you wanted to hit all the Christmas traditions and you forgot one of the best ones.” 

“God, I love you.”

You practically jump into his arms when he presses his lips against yours. Fireworks explode in your chest as the clock rings twelve and cheers erupt from the streets below. It’s all a buzz in your head, though, as you cup Hyunjin’s cheeks in your hands and melt into his arms and lips and just him. 

You hope he never tries to chase perfection again, because you’re sure that this moment, right now, is the definition of it. Nothing has ever felt so perfect, so right, and nothing else will ever come close.

As if on cue, when you two slowly break the kiss, you feel something wet land on your head. You and your not fake boyfriend?—you’ll have to talk to him about that later—look up to see fluffy, white snowdrops falling all around you two.

“Merry Christmas, Hyunnie,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Hyunjin has the biggest smile on his face as you pull away. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

You let out a joyful giggle. It looks like Hyunjin got the cheesy Christmas romance he’s been searching his whole life for. It might not have gone the exact way he’d dreamed of, but you hope he is as happy as he has always made you.

And maybe, just maybe, you also got the ending you’d been dreaming of all along.

[moondirti]

give peace a chance

I missed you, you want to say, but you know it’ll do nothing to change this routine. You settle on a question he’ll have a response to, for all it can do to uncover thoughts he’d want to bury deep.

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f!Reader rating: explicit (18+ mdni) word count: 3.4k summary: you’re always there, waiting on him warnings: size kink, blowjobs, facefucking, thigh riding, masturbation, squirting, angst, brief mentions of death, canon typical violence, mild mild gore, fluff notes: had 'Yes to Heaven' by lana del rey on loop while writing this one. out of body experience fr. anyway, i finally gave in and wrote for the boogey man. he's been occupying too much headspace for me to not.

You don’t hear him come in. 

Crisp, white sheets gather in a knot at your midsection – previously pristine, wrinkles pull at its surface now. You can’t sleep, but that’s most nights.

Your curtains dance with an incoming drift, lazy gauze, sheer in the cresting moonlight. If you weren’t so absorbed in the white noise of your whirring fan, you could catch the quiet click of your backdoor. You always leave it open, just in case; people know not to dare take advantage of the liberties you exhibit. There’s the invisible threat, protection, of a shadowed mercenary over your toytown home. 

His missions are incalculable. That’s the one thing he cannot promise you. Come back soon, you beg, but he leaves you with a silent kiss and nothing else. 

There were once days where you’d tag along. Your chest twinges at the uncomfortable reminder. Cracked bone, spilt ichor; the bullet had barely missed your heart, lodged between the throbbing organ and a major vessel. He’d raged to get you decommissioned, incensed demands – they’d never seen him as angry. 

Carpet flattens under your bare feet as you crawl out of bed, soft, like all things here. You hadn’t the luxury of comfort before, when Simon was Ghost and you were a rookie under him, but he’d granted you a life you sought only in your dreams. The first few days in paradise, you were torn over appreciation and resentment at the act, bandages wrapped around your chest – but you’d healed and found the irreversible damage etched into the hard plate of your clavicle – a rounded, discoloured scar. 

You’re glad you’d left that life behind. 

Padding out to the kitchen, you pour yourself a drink. The cupboard underneath your sink contains only bourbon – blended, straight, kentucky – so you fish out juice from your fridge. It’s sickly sweet, all natural sugars, your ass. 

“Shouldn’t drink that stuff.” A voice cuts the tranquillity, rugged and choppy on harsh consonants – a cockney accent. You soothe the alarmed surprise racing in your gut, a gentle smile turning your cheeks. 

His eyes pierce back at you, a smudge of white against an otherwise charcoal canvas. He’s sitting at the dining table, just across your kitchen island, his massive form illuminated by the warm light you’d turned on. You don’t know how you missed him, but then again, the man lives up to his name. Ghost; creeping up like the dead. 

“We’re all out of milk.” You respond, your tease lilting to an affectionate whisper when it hits your tongue. Simon scoffs. “Not like whiskey’s any better.” 

You pour him a glass regardless. 

He’s still equipped in his tactical gear, his gun set on the chair next to him. It adds unnecessary bulk, layers on layers of insulation, conservation – impossibly, he looks bigger like this. Larger than life. Your hands run along the coarse material of his bullet proof vest; you think you can feel his muscles tense, despite the surfaces separating you. But he takes the bourbon with little fuss, wrapping a strong arm around your legs so your knees knock the side of his thigh. 

“Hi,” You giggle, beaming down at him. 

“Hey.” He mocks, setting the drink down. 

His hard-shell mask conceals any tells you may glean. In just the balaclava, you can catch the shape of his lips, the curve of his nose, when he smiles – the painted fabric pulls taut over his features. But a skull stares back at you, and all you have are his eyes, framed with ashen lashes. They’re only enough to tell you one thing; he’s happy to be home. 

You love the way they catch the light, a subtle glimmer in them. 

For a while, the two of you just stand there, revelling in the weighted company of one another. His gloved hand presses circles into your flesh, just under the hem of your sleeping shorts, while yours find every bit of exposed skin you can. There’s not much – just the small stretch of neck you can reach, tucked behind his collar before the rest of him disappears. But you find it with reverence, smoothing over it, his heated body slowly easing by the minute under your ministrations. Some part of you realises the desperation you observe him with, the hurried glances at his back, his stomach, his legs. You look for darkened, sticky fabric. You look for blood. 

You don’t have the courage to speak your fears into fruition. 

Simon slowly begins to pull the heavier parts of his armour off. The night vision goggles on his head, the packets of ammo stuffed into available pockets. You move to help him, humming, shifting as you unbuckle the back of his plate carrier. His groans are wicked, deep waves of relief stemming from somewhere in his chest, and you hide the blush that arises at the sound, throwing the layer into an unknown corner. You remember the soreness, the knotted shoulders from days in the same kit, your spine in aching need of a good long stretch. You make a mental note to rub his back later.

You take off his gloves. There’s little give – they’re crusted in dried gore and gunpowder, the bones on their front almost entirely camouflaged. A sharp tug is what it takes to peel them off his hands. But then his skin is bared to you. You survey the grit that dusts the contours of his veins. Dirt has sunk through the fibres. 

When he’s left in just his mask and underclothes, he finally slumps, posture altering from that of a soldier’s to one of a tired man. His legs spread, thick thighs filling his pants, and he reaches for his drink again, lifting the bottom of his mask and balaclava to take a large gulp. His newly revealed Adam's apple bobs with the motion.

I missed you, you want to say, but you know it’ll do nothing to change this routine. You settle on a question he’ll have a response to, for all it can do to uncover thoughts he’d want to bury deep. 

“How many men?” You speak into the space. He pauses, his pink lips pursing at the brim of his glass. You have half a mind to regret asking, but you do this for your own solace. 

“Jus’ three.” Just. To anyone else, he may sound indifferent, his tone etched in that low timbre, unwavering with the grief over lost comrades. To you, you know that his pain is cavernous, a bottomless chasm he’ll undoubtedly return to. Indicatively, he pulls his mask back down over his face. It isn’t just three men. It’s three too many – but it’s on the lower end of the casualties the 141 usually faces. 

You wait for him to say the words you’re looking for. 

“They’re alright.” 

You nod. Al Bravo team was not amongst the fatalities. Gaz. Price. Soap. You cling onto the reassurance of your friends’ continued survival, a buoy until the next raging storm. 

Simon’s hand returns to its place on your leg, tracing long lines along the back of it. You shiver, suppressing the heat that spreads up your tummy like wildfire. His steel gaze is indecipherable as he looks up at you; your emotions flit across your face erratically. You wish he’d take the mask off, get on even footing with you, but it takes a while for him to come down from his missions. For as long as he’s racked with enduring adrenaline, he’ll keep his guard up. 

He’s surrounded by the safe walls of your – his – home, but he’s in over his head. 

You bow down, placing a gentle kiss on the curve of his jaw. The arm wrapped around you draws you closer. 

He smells like saltpetre, guncotton, hints of kerosene floating in the air between you. You push your face nearer to his, and you’re able to catch a faint whiff of his aftershave, traces of the cleanliness and cologne he leaves behind here, with you. You open your mouth to comment on it; he beats you to your cause: 

“Lovely girl.” He squeezes the flesh on your upper thigh – not quite your ass, but almost. 

“Mmm, Simon.” You start, capturing his eyes. They bear down on you with an intensity that makes your core ache. “Y’Can’t keep doing this to me.”

You imagine he’s smirking when he retaliates. “Can say the same for you, expectin’ me to focus out there when you look this good.” Like a giddy schoolgirl, you bite your lip at his compliment. 

Stirring to kiss his jaw again, you slowly start to unzip his windbreaker. Your fingers span the front of the black hoodie underneath, tracing the hard plane of his chest, feeling it rumble with a noiseless groan. His legs spread wider. You catch a telling bulge in your peripheral. 

“Need help?” You murmur, purring when he slips underneath your shorts to give your rear a feel. His callouses dig into you.

“Need you.” He says. 

The hand that was on his chest inches downward now, your nails raking along. You give a half-suppressed laugh as his abdomen tightens, bracing against your ticklish assault. You want to feel it bare – to extricate the exhaustion from an uncovered torso and watch as his muscles roll, solid brawn unravelling with the slightest touch. But you’ll settle on this, you know he needs it. His mask does unspeakable things to you, anyway. 

“Relax.” You encourage with a breath. Simon doesn’t listen; he still kneads your flesh with an unforgiving grip. His thumb brushes close to the soaked patch on your panties – with the appreciative grunt he gives, you know he senses the arousal emanating from you. 

His cock strains his pants, taking up all the space it can. You coo, poor thing, as you cup the underside of it. He gives you a reproaching spank, and your hips buck in tandem to his. As you do, you realise now how uncomfortable of a position you’re in – your neck cramps in this angle. Really, it’s a silly thing to be hung up about, but Simon must read the subtle cringe you give, for he urges you to kneel, guiding you by your head to crawl in between his open legs. 

You’re halfway under the table when you look up at him again, cheek pressed adoringly against his knee. He’s seemingly content like this, petting round your forehead to the ridge of your chin. His palm is large, dry, warm. You quickly lose trajectory as he caresses you, all droopy eyes and small smiles. 

He catches when you rub your legs together, chasing a friction that will never amount to him. You can never escape his scrutiny; Simon captures everything. 

He pats your cheek and pinches it before his touch leaves you. Newly awake, you perk up, perching on your haunches to lean further into him. You’re always eager, but his chuckle at your barely concealed anticipation beckons a stone to lodge itself in your throat. It’s a ball of desire, denser than most things, snowballing with every passing moment in his presence. You’re tuned in on him, rapt to every subtle thing – the deep exhales, the anchoring of his boots to hardwood floors. It’s take, take, take, an absorption of anything he’s willing to give. It tends to be like this after he comes back –  was like this back on the base, when you’d known nothing but his moniker and callsign. 

You recall rubbing one out to the staticky crackle of his voice over the channel, your headset pressed tight to your ears. You’d never told him that; you figure now’s a good time as any. 

“Used to fantasise about you, y’know.” You sigh, ironing over his calves. You move your brushes to his hulking thighs when he begins to undo his pants, wetting your lips. 

His next exhale is torn, steadiness ripped to shreds by your less-than seductive words. “Oh yeah?” He remarks, scooping into his boxers to pull his heavy cock out. “What about?” 

It springs free just then, angry head flushed a deep red, blood supplied by pulsing veins that branch to the top. You keen at the precum that beads at the top, rushing to catch it with your index to slip it onto your tongue. He says nothing, merely contemplating as you wriggle with the heady taste of him. 

“This,” You add after a long moment, before licking a long, wet stripe up the base of his dick. His whole body jerks unexpectedly, and he grabs onto your head to steady your impatient efforts. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” 

“Gone soft on me? I see.” Chortling, you play with his tip, batting it back and forth to tap your lips. He is anything but soft – regrettably, though, the rise you get from teasing him is too great to pass up. 

“Shut it, pet, before I turn your insides over.” He urges you forward once he’s settled. You don’t tell him how much you’d really like him to. In due time. 

Your lips wrap around the bulbous head, sides stretching to accommodate his girth. You’re familiar with the drill by now; hollow your cheeks, keep your jaw nice and loose. Use some teeth, he chokes at the pain. 

His skin moves with you as you sink down , rolling your tongue over the ridges that cross your path. Your breath is hot, your mouth even hotter – sweltering, you suck him in and coat his rock-hard with a film of saliva, which aids you when you bob back up. You can’t reach the root of him, not yet – he’s way too big – so your hand wraps around the length not in your mouth. 

“That’s it.” Simon rasps, now pushing you down in support. Your hum is lost in the lewd slurps, but he twitches with the vibrations it produces. A glob of drool leaks from you, seeping down to gather in his scruffy curls – you use it as slick to twist your wrist around his base. 

He’s ripe with the salty taste of sweat and precum, a dizzying combination – you hope you’re subtle as you slip your free hand down your pants, pressing up into the plush of your cunt. You find where you’re most sensitive, a tight bundle of nerves, and touch yourself, all the while savouring the masculinity that engulfs you – his muscled thighs by your ears, his giant hands pressing down on your head. 

A particularly loud groan sounds from above. You triple your efforts, delighted at your part in helping him unwind. At one point, his added pressure pushes you down all the way. You gag, blubbering with choked gasps, but your lips stay sealed around him, an unforgiving vacuum. His happy trail scratches your nose,

“Gonna cum, you lovely thing. Righ’ down your throat. Take it all, understand?” He asks. You’re able to discern the wobble in his abrasive voice – his balls spasm at your lips, ready to erupt at any moment. You nod, gaping at him earnestly, with wide, watery eyes. His own soften, downturning at the corners. “‘Atta girl.”

With the hazy memory of his face before he’d left, you can draw an abstraction of what he might look like right now. You trick yourself into thinking he’s smiling down at you. Gentle, caring. 

You don’t have to try as hard to believe it. 

Your fingers work fervently over your sopping cunt, slipping between velvet folds. Your exertion, combined with his pure fucking magnetism, is almost enough to tip you over the edge. A cluster in your gut stiffens, grows, upends. You stroke yourself impossibly faster. 

Simon curls inward, his mask now directly above you. A bit of his cock drags from your mouth – your bottom teeth scrape a vein in consequence. He jolts. Then, rich, long ropes of cum shoot into your awaiting mouth, painting you with musky white. You keep jerking him as he does, urging more, more, more, milking him to spill his all into you. 

A tap of your shoulder is all the evidence you need to pull off him with a pop. You didn’t cum, it doesn’t matter, you hardly feel the mounting desperation amidst the grand scheme of things. Simon’s back hits the chair, his head tilting as he takes you in. 

“C’mere,” He grunts, pushing backwards to allow you space to stand. You oblige, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand – it only serves to smear the mess across your cheek. Your back brushes the table – he beckons you closer – until your bruised knees hit the edge of the chair. 

When he’s satisfied, his hands run up your sides, starting at your arms, then downward, so they can hook into the waistband of your shorts. You lock onto his all-consuming stare, dark with an unspoken question, his pupils blown wide with lingering lust. 

“Go ahead.” You coax. 

He nods and pulls your shorts off with one, swift movement. 

Cold air meets soaked cotton – you tremble, whether with goosebumps or the weight of his study, you don’t know. You’re the farthest thing from a blushing virgin, but Simon manages to propel you back into that bashful headspace. Every time with him is ruthless – stifling broken sobs while adjusting to his width, utter pleasure and the smallest bit of pain. 

Perhaps you’ll forgo that this time around. He’s quickly softening against his pelvis. You understand – stamina tends to dissipate after holding out for so long. Though he’s anything but a selfish lover.

He guides you to straddle his thigh. 

You squirm, hip flexors burning with the strain of splitting over the breadth of him. He keeps you steady with his hands on your waist – you clutch onto his wrists. His sleeves have rucked up to reveal his tattooed forearm. You trace the ink, reverent, requiring as much skin-to-skin as possible. It flees the fastest, that sensation, running up behind him when he exits the door. The bruises, the bites, the cramp from hitting your cervix one too many times, on the other hand – they all endure, keeping you sated long enough so that you aren’t compelled to rejoin him. He might do that on purpose, in fact. 

Your clit folds as it meets his leg – a new surge of slick spills from you. 

“A-Ah! Simon, y–” 

“I know, pet. Jus’ ride me, yeah, like that.” 

Your bottom half ruts into him, finding purchase on the solid surface of his thigh. Your panties slide, preventing the potential for divine friction, so you push them to the side, wedging it in the crevice of a lip and your pubic bone. You stutter apologies to Simon for the mess – your natural lubricant smears onto his cargo pants, sullying the fabric. He assures that he’ll wear it proudly. You’re a prouder medal than blood. 

You’re whimpering now, wailing about everything and nothing all at once with your face tucked into his neck. He embraces you – sturdiness forcing you to stunt your movements to short, hurried grinds – and says nothing. 

Something terrifying begins to burn in you; promising a cataclysm. It’s him. His scent, his strength, his size, his presence. I missed you. I missed you. Your impending orgasm crawls up the tendons in your pelvis, seeping into bone and flooding like a high tide. Your pants grow shallower. Your lungs feel cramped. Something about this, here, with him, lights every synapse in you, flashing bright with colours and promises and safety. I miss you. 

“I miss you,” You finally gasp, broken as you peer up at him. He stills – you keep your pace. Sweat beads at your temple. 

He slowly removes the mask. 

The balaclava follows soon after. 

Simon then bows down, pressing his lips to your furrowed brow. 

And then, everything in you compresses, fierce and tight. You wind your fingers into his hair, pulling his head back to bite the column of his neck. You do it to muffle the sob that bubbles when you erupt in searing agony atop him, back arching, toes curling. Your body goes completely rigid. 

He groans with the cut of your teeth, and your cunt pulsates again, spilling down on him, your fluids draining to double your mark on the man. 

“Missed you too.” Simon rustles in response. You seize his mouth with yours, uncaring for how messy it is. It’s what you need; to feel your teeth knock, to bind yourself to him. 

You kiss in him the intent to never let you go. You know it won’t last, but for now, it’s enough.

permanent taglist: @saintbedelia @tusk89 @cactuswaterscactusfields @lexloon

since i've only written for star wars previously, if you're on this list and want to be moved to a character specific one instead, i've added the option on my form!

join my taglist!

[railingsofsorrow]

open the door

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: spencer visits you after three days of radio silence. and he will stand by your door until you open it.

pairing: s.reid x reader

w.c: 1.4K

warnings/content: descriptions of a depressive episode (people have different experiences, this is based on mine); poor writing probably; angst, fluff.

navi

masterpost

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“Open the door.”

Spencer is not one to be incisive. He's certain about his opinions and makes them known at the right time. He's not rude or forceful, unless someone touched a sore spot of his then he'll make sure to let them know a piece of his mind.

He's not being rude by showing up at your apartment past seven in the evening. He's not forceful because he's knocking non-stop at your door. Spencer knows you're home, he knows you probably can't get up from wherever you are because maybe you don't have the strength to do it.

He swallows up the guilt and knocks one more time, grimacing. Last time someone did that to him he left them hanging. Three days later there were at least two casseroles filled with spoiled food.

And then, in the hostile silence he's been presented with, comes through your muffled and faint voice, “I don't want to talk to anybody.”

Spencer leans his forehead away from your apartment door, where it had been resting for the past ten minutes or so. Twenty, perhaps. He would stay five hours, days even, if it meant you'd speak to him.

His hands press against the wood if they would make it vanish. “It's not anybody. It's me.” Spencer says softly, begging. “It's just me. Please, open the door.”

“Go home.”

He can't.

“I'm sorry. I have to see you.”

Nothing.

He thought you had given up on him and decided to just let him talk to the door. Until he hears the sound of key dangling and his heart leaped inside his chest.

“What are you doing here?”

Your voice is hoarse. It wasn't hard to hear because it was being muffled by the door, but it sounded rough as if you hadn't drunk water in a couple of hours. Spencer wants to ask if you have eaten or drank anything today. He felt like he knew the answers by the dark bags under your eyes and your pale features.

“I came to see you.”

“Did Penelope put you up to this?” You ask, munching on your lower lip. “Tell her to stop texting and calling, I replied once.”

“That was three days ago.” Spencer says, brows furrowing.

You let out a scoff, “Wasn't aware you needed daily reports. I'll be sure to keep that in mind.”

He put his foot between the door and the wall, stopping you from closing it on his face. “Please,” Spencer pleads, helplessly. Your hold on the handle weakened. “I just— I just need to see you.”

But it's way more than that. Spencer is the kind of person who is there for all of his friends and he wants to help them in any way that he can. He understood space and he gave it to you when you needed it. But, deep down, you craved human contact, you needed someone else. Being alone could be suffocating even though most of the times in your hard days felt like you could face the worst on your own.

You can.

You just didn't want to.

To admit that to yourself is another thing entirely. The numbness spoke louder than your own voice, sometimes.

He's seeing you, through the small space you spared him at your apartment door. But he needs to be there. For ten minutes. Five. Just to make sure.

Shame creeps up on you as he stands inside your place. Spencer is a contrast against the mess in your living room. Ripped newspapers scattered around your floor, broken glass in a corner, the duvet thrown over the arm of the couch and a pillow on the coffee table.

This is how you are on the inside, crumbling down, broken. He says something but you are too busy staring at the teardrops at your window. It's raining.

“What?” You turn to him, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You notice he is still in the same place since he came in, near the door as if waiting for you to kick him out any time. “Spencer, sit down.” You sigh, mentioning the loveseat as you let your body sink on the sofa for the third time that day. You hadn't really left it for any other reason beside going to the bathroom against your will and drinking water. Although you can't remember the last time you had the latter.

“Have you eaten something?” He inquires, placing his work bag on the floor as he sat down, eyes traveling across your fragile frame. He just wants to hold you. Make it all go away. “I could order something or I could—”

“You don't have to babysit me.

His shoulders slump. “That's not what I'm doing.” He gets now how his team felt whenever they tried to visit him while he was in a tough moment.

You're curled up to your pillow, face buried on the soft fabric. Fluttering one eye open, you caught his gaze on you. He approaches you slowly; you are a caged animal and he wants to let you free, if only you'd let him get close enough.

“If I'm making you feel uncomfortable,” he begins, fidgeting nervously. “I can go.” His hesitation causes you to squirm in your laid position.

“No.” You mumble, clearing your throat and then grunting because it hurts. “It's— you’re fine, Spencer. I just can't—”

“I know.” He cuts you off upon noticing your struggling.

I just can't be myself right now.

He feels an apology slipping out by your furrowed forehead and pursed lips. “I want to be here. For you. Is that okay?”

You nod because that's all you can do. And your fingers find his in a timid touch.

“Yeah.”

His eyes smile before his mouth does and you feel a glimpse of joy stirring up your cold body. This is nice. You think.

“Okay. I have something in mind.” He backs up slightly. “Am I allowed in your kitchen?” He asked as if he hadn't been in your place countless times before.

You press your chin against the pillow, blinking up at your coworker — genius presented with an IQ of 184, a decent shooting aim, child prodigy and an expert on many areas, academic or not.

Except in the kitchen aspect. Spencer is not gifted in that.

“Spencer,” you attempt the gentlest tone you could muster. “you can't cook.”

He regards you with an offended look, lips jutting out in a pout. “I can cook.” You raise an eyebrow in disbelief and he rolls his eyes. “Two dishes. I can. I promise I won't burn your place down.”

“Please don't,” you muse, laying down again even though you would be getting up any time now to keep a watchful eye on him as he... cooked. “I don't have anywhere else to go.”

Spencer's head tilts to the side, his considering your statement carefully or something else entirely. One of his hands move forward to graze it across your cheek, he expects any indication that you don't want to be touched but you only shut your eyes and wait.

“You're always welcome at my place.” I'm here, he thinks to himself, hoping you are hearing his thoughts. I'm always here for you please don't forget it. I care so much.

A faint hum of satisfaction leave your lips as he travels his thumb across your cheek.

“In this case, yes, you're allowed in my kitchen.”

His grin is almost contagious. Almost. “Great. Don't get up until I gather the glass. I don't want you to hurt yourself.” With a kiss on your forehead, he scrambles up with difficulty as his knees complain. He walks to your kitchen mumbling something loudly about his day so you could hear it.

You stare at your messy living room, the reflection of the broken cup staring back at you in the dim lighting.

As Spencer collects the glass pieces with a broom, you stand up to pick up your stuff and some dirty clothing that needs to be washed. You can't remember how long you were wearing that same jumper and sweater pants, so your next step would be to take a shower.

When you step into your bedroom, a pair of clothes is waiting for you at your bed. You smile after so long without doing it.

Maybe it's not awful to have someone be there for you, if it meant it was him.

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taglist: @lilyviolets

[moonyswoony]

Nothing else matters

pairing: Eddie munson x best friend reader

Summary: Your constant need to defend your best friend eventually lands you in the hospital, and Eddie's not happy.

Warning(s): cursing,slight angst with happy ending,making out.

Anyone in your position would have been able to tell where they were right off the bat without even opening their eyes. Although, to you, it all comes back in bits and pieces. You begin to register the noises all around you. Doors constantly sliding open and shut, squeaky sounds of wheelchairs, muffled groans and voices somewhere in the distance.

The bitter scent of antiseptic with a hint of bleach mixed with undertones of the chemicals contained in soaps and cleaners fills the room. Your nostrils slightly tingle from the nauseating scent surrounding you and instinctively, you press your face into the warm pillow under your head in order to escape it.

Despite all this, it's the sensation of someone watching you that finally compels your eyes to open. Light creeps into your vision before you shut your eyes, just to open them again.

A hospital. You were definitely in a hospital.

You bite your lip from the sharp pain that shoots all over your body as you slowly try to sit up and get off the bed, bones aching in the process.

"Whoa—wait, you’ll pop a bone there."

Your eyes fall onto a man with long curly hair standing next to your bed, his black leather jacket unzipped to reveal a Hellfire Club shirt peeking from underneath.

"Eddie?" you breathe out.

Eddie lightly pushes against your shoulder, sending you back down. "Yup, that's me, love. Now why don't you stay there before I have to scrape you off the floor?"

You let out a weak chuckle and shift around, trying to get comfortable against the hospital bed. "You really think you could scrape me off the floor, Munson? Pretty sure I’d just flatten you."

Eddie smirks, humour showing through. "Oh, you think so, huh? I’d have you know I’m quite the strongman."

His tone sounds off,you think.

You ignore it and roll your eyes, but can't help the small smile that forms. Eddie starts drumming his fingers against his thigh, eyes cast down as he talks. "So, uh, as you can see from your bedside table, we turned your room into a real mansion."

Your eyes shift to the small table next to your bed, a bouquet of bright red carnations, golden yellow daffodils, and rosy peonies all wrapped together with thick wrapping paper. You smirk when right next to it you see three asymmetric cards made from colorful cardboard, the letters inside too sloppy to be made by any adult.

Definitely the kids.

"Well, I can clearly see who made me these cards. What about the flowers?" you ask, gaze shifting towards him.

His eyes quickly flicker past you. "Picked them from some flower shop down the street. Thought you might like some color in here."

There's a pregnant pause in his speech before he starts playing with his ring. An old habit you’ve seen Eddie pick up over the years when he wanted to distract himself from a situation.

And for the first time since you woke up, you look at Eddie—truly look at him.

His eyes are hollow, with dark circles underneath. He’s focused on the empty space between him and your bed. His leg bounces as he stands, shoe squeaking against the floor. The side of his lip curls inward as he bites it, probably hard enough to draw blood.

You quickly reach forward, placing your hand on top of his.

"Hey."

A few seconds pass before he finally snaps his eyes towards you, movements off and far too slow.

"You okay there?"

He rolls his eyes and pushes back his hair, the glint of multiple silver rings showing through. "I'm not the one laying in a hospital bed."

"Dude," you snort. "By the looks of it, maybe I should get up and give it to you."

Eddie ignores the poor attempt to lighten the mood this time and presses a hand against his eye, hard enough that he starts seeing starbursts. "I'm still wondering why the fuck you did that."

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "What—"

He sucks in a deep breath, expression shifting in a way you can't quite recognize yet. "When I got here, Dustin had already beaten me to it. Said that you got jumped by some asshole on the basketball team for defending my name."

"Listen, Ed—"

"And I was just wondering," he says, a small bitter smile forming. "What the fuck you were thinking."

You reach out, grabbing his jacket and pulling him closer. “I couldn’t just stand there and let him talk shit about you like that, Eddie. You can't even begin to imagine the things he was saying, I wasn’t going to let him get away with it.”

Eddie’s eyes darken with emotion as he bends down to support his elbows on the bed,he leans in, his face inches from yours. “You should have walked away. Not get yourself beat up.” His voice is rough, but there’s a tremor beneath it.

“And let that asshole keep badmouthing you?” you retort, fire in your voice. “I couldn’t do that, Eddie. You mean too much to me.”

His jaw tightens, and he looks away, taking a step back. “You always fucking do this! You always jump in without thinking about the consequences. Do you even realize what could have happened?”

Your heart aches at his words, and you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Eddie, I couldn’t just stand by. You’re my best friend.”

“Best friend?” he scoffs, his eyes flashing with anger. “You think this is what best friends do? Get themselves beaten up for the other? You scared the hell out of me!”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” you say, voice softening. “But I couldn’t let them talk about you like that. You’re worth defending.”

Eddie lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “You don’t get it, do you? It’s not just about what he said. It’s about you. I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his jacket, pulling him closer again. “What are you saying?”

His eyes meet yours, filled with raw emotion. “I’m saying I love you and no not as your friend.I'm saying I am in love with you,i’ve been for a long time, and it terrifies me. But not saying it before it's too late, not showing you, terrifies me more. I can’t lose you, not now, not ever.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes, but you blink them back, focusing on the intensity in his gaze. “I love you too, Eddie. I have for so long. I just... I didn’t think i should tell you.”

Eddie’s face softens, a small, relieved smile appearing. “Well, now you know.” He steps closer, his hand cupping your cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear. “And I promise, from now on, I’m going to show you every day how much you mean to me.”

You close your eyes, leaning into his touch, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’d like that.”

His breath mingles with yours as he leans in slowly, giving you time to pull back if you want to. But you don’t. Instead, you tilt your head slightly, closing the distance between you.

When his lips finally meet yours, it’s gentle at first, a soft brush that sends a shiver down your spine. Then, as if a dam breaks, the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more passionate. Your hands move up to his neck, pulling him even closer, feeling his warmth against you.

Eddie’s arms wrap around you, holding you tight, as if afraid you might disappear. The kiss is everything you had hoped for and more, a culmination of all the unspoken words, the hidden feelings, years worth of friendship and love.

When you finally pull back, both of you are breathless, foreheads resting against each other.

“Just promise me one thing?” Eddie whispers, his voice still shaky.

“Anything.”

“Promise me you’ll let me protect you once in a while. I know you’re strong, but I need you to be safe. For me.”

You nod, your hand finding his again. “I promise.”

As you both catch your breath, you can't help but let out a small chuckle. "Hey, Eddie, does your back ache from all that bending down towards the bed?"

Eddie snickers , placing a hand dramatically on his back. "You know,now that you mention it,maybe you should give me that bed."

You both share a laugh, the warmth of Eddie’s presence comforting you in this cold hospital room. As you settle back against the pillows, you realize that even in the darkest moments, Eddie’s humour never fails to brighten your day.

Eddie leans in, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss, sealing his promise with every brush of his mouth against yours.

For the first time since you woke up, you feel truly safe, knowing that no matter what happens, you and Eddie will face it together.

[zumek0]

draft 05; fushiguro, m.

↪︎ angst but very mild?, comfort, college/university au, no curses au, reader is very stressed.

↝ summary: megumi comforts you after you break down due to academic stress.

There’s a feeling of pressure on your chest, and a growing pit of despair in your stomach. You fucked up. Big time. Your teacher had given you a topic to make a presentation about a month ago and yet here you were, a week before your due date, not even having a clue of what the hell the topic was. As you stare into the google calendar tab open in your laptop you realize that not only were you supposed to present the topic in a week, but also turn in two different group assignments and an individual one. On the same day.

Almost mechanically you pick up your phone and open the messenger app. 

Megumi’s always been more of a night owl. His body is used to staying awake until sunlight threatens to spill over the horizon. He knows it’s not healthy but even if he tries to sleep at a normal, decent hour his mind remains restless. So he does what he’s able to: assignments, projects, pre-reading for lectures, reading books he enjoys or has been wanting to read, listen to music, make playlists with songs that fit the vibe of a very specific picture of you he has in his gallery, watch a movie, etc. 

It’s 11:56 p.m. when his phone starts vibrating over and over again. He can’t help the feeling of irritation that bubbles up inside him, thinking that Yuuji or Nobara are spamming the group chat with TikTok slideshows of “ask your friends which ‘blank’ are you!”. Although the feeling is immediately replaced with worry and slight curiosity when he sees it’s you who has been spamming him for three minutes straight.

His eyebrows furrow when he notices you’re texting with correct spelling, no emojis, no jokes in the middle of the conversation and capitalizing the first letter of every text. He reads over the messages you’ve sent so far to grasp an understanding of the situation. When he gets to the bottom of the chat, he gets up and grabs his shoes and keys while still paying attention to the still incoming messages you’re sending him.

You’re startled when you hear a soft knock at your door, stilling your fingers from expertly moving across the keyboard on your phone. Your eyes remain on the door while you wait for the sound to repeat itself, just in case you misheard or imagined it. Your phone vibrates softly on your hands, displaying a text from Megumi: “open the door”. You get up and do as he ordered. 

Once he’s inside your small campus room, he speaks. “Okay, now tell me everything slowly.” You do.

“… oh, did I also mention that I have two midterms that same week? And that quiz that we were supposed to present last week but the teacher changed last minute.” You can feel the headache creeping up your spine. You bring your hands to your head and rub your temples.

“And I know what you’re gonna say: ‘complaining about it isn’t gonna help you at all’” you make your voice sound deeper and more monotone to make it sound like his, “It’s just- It’s really frustrating. I don’t know why I can’t seem to just sit down and do things, like you do!”. 

He doesn’t say anything and you’re thankful for that. “It’s like—I know I have stuff to do, and I know it’s very important that I do it right. But I just can’t seem to ever find the motivation to do it. And then I’m left in spots like this one where I’m gonna have to pull a miracle out of my ass to actually turn in everything I have to turn in this week.” He listens to your rant patiently. Even rubbing your thigh when he notices your eyes crystallizing and tears starting to well up in the corners of your eyes.

After sitting in silence for what feels like hours, he finally speaks. “Do you want reassurance or a solution?” “Both. More reassurance though.” You both move to make yourselves more comfortable. 

He’s sitting down in the floor with his back against the side of your mattress. One of his legs is bent and the other is stretched. Your head is now resting on his outstretched thigh. His long fingers find themselves running through your hair, an action that you commonly direct towards him whenever he finds himself unable to fall asleep while sleeping over in your room.

“I think you’re gonna make it out of this.” His voice Is soft, but assertive. “And yes, you have some awful time-management skills that we need to work on,” a snort leaves your nose “However last time you were able to give that other presentation while only having studied two days prior. If you try hard enough, everything will be okay. We’ll be okay. I’m gonna help you.”

You’re pretty sure the tears are running down your face at this point. You sniff tour nose. “Thank you.” Megumi leans down and gives your forehead a kiss. “But now, we need to get some rest. We both have early clases tomorrow. Well, today, technically.”

You get up from your position and make it to your bed. He’s hugging you while your head is on top of his chest. From this position you’re able to hear his heartbeat slowly lulling you to sleep.

can you tell i’m proyecting with this one? i literally wrote it at midnight. stress is eating me alive, so please excuse me if this seems like a self insert. i know people who are currently dealing with a lot in uni, so i hope this can help you if you’re going through the same.

—han

[captainamericasmotercycle]

I Think He Knows

pairing: remus lupin x reader

warnings: slight angst, fluff, remus being stupid, the marauders being the marauders

wc: 1.9k

a/n: when i come out of hibernation and post a fic 🫣

absolutely DO NOT steal my work and post it on other platforms. DO NOT feed my work to AI fuck that.

It wasn’t uncommon for you and Lily to be gossiping late at night in your dorm, however, it was uncommon for Remus to be stopping by to borrow a book this late at night. Usually he would wait until the morning, but something pulled him towards your dorm.

Your dorm room door was slightly ajar and he could hear the soft whispers and giggles coming from yours and Lily’s side of the room. He knew he should’ve knocked, but he couldn’t help himself from overhearing your conversation.

“Lily stop!” A string of giggles followed your comment. He listened in closer at the sudden remark from you.

“Okay, okay! But I know you have a thing for him!!” Remus’s heart sunk to his feet, of course you’d like someone else.

“Of course I do! You know I do! He’s just *so* perfect, Lily, not to mention gorgeous,” he just barely heard the last part, but if Remus’s heart could sink any further than it had, then it would. Even though he’d hoped that you would have any kind of romantic feelings for him, he didn’t count on it.

Now here he was, standing outside of your dorm like a creep, just trying to get some kind of contact with you.

He did not end up seeing you, in fact he doesn’t really want to see you right now.

He turned around to leave when he heard another shrill giggle.

“You think his pranks are funny?!”

“As much as I hate to admit it, I do. But how can you not??”

“It’s so childish!!”

Pranks. It’s James. You’re in love with James. Why wouldn’t you be? Captain of the quidditch team, prefect, gorgeous, and apparently show stopping hilarious.

Remus knew coming to your dorm was a bad idea in the first place and now he really regrets doing so.

His book can wait until tomorrow or quite literally never. How is he honestly going to talk to you ever again? He walked back to his dorm with his head sunken and his heart even more.

He walks slowly to his bed, now in a pissed mood.

“D’you get your book, mate?” Peter asks innocently from his side of the room, while arranging his blankets, however he seemed to have caught Remus in a funk, because Remus sends a pillow flying, hitting him in the head.

Remus lays down and covers his head with a blanket, not speaking another word to anyone.

Back in your dorm, only seconds after Remus booked it out of there, you and Lily are still gossiping, “Lily, I know he doesn’t feel the same way,”

“Remus is just shy, that’s all, I’m not sure he would be too confident to tell you about he feels, that’s why you need to say something.”

You huffed at her, “But I don’t want to, he’s just so amazing and perfect, I don’t know, just talking about this makes me want to die of embarrassment.”

“Stop, it’s not embarrassing,”

Marlene, from across the room, chips in to the conversation, “It is embarrassing how loud you lot are being right now, shut up and go to sleep.”

You and Lily rolled your eyes and shrugged her off before beginning to get ready for bed.

As you slipped under the covers, Lily whispered one more thing to you, “Tell him!”

It’s safe to say you would be overthinking until you fell asleep.

The next morning you knew something was up. Remus wouldn’t look at you or even stay near you anytime you came up to him.

He knows. He has to know. And now you’ve ruined your friendship with him because of a silly crush.

At dinner later that night, you walked into the Great Hall to where you normally sit. Remus was sitting across from James and Sirius and next to Peter. You sat down next to Remus, trying to rekindle your relationship with him.

Unfortunately this was also a spot across from James.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you all day,” James said through a mouthful of food.

“Yeah, I was running around school trying to figure out this potions project,”

Remus stands abruptly and storms out of the Great Hall.

James, Sirius, and Peter all share a confused look.

“What was all that about?” Peter looks at you.

“I don’t know, I think he’s upset with me, he’s been like this all day,” you shrug your shoulders and hang your head a little.

“Oh don’t I believe it, I’ve been caught on the wrong end of his attitude. ‘Bout chopped my head off over me asking to borrow a quill,” Sirius rolls his eyes.

James thinks, “Are we missing a full moon?”

“No, it was only 2 weeks ago,”

“I think he knows, you know, about my thing for him, why else would he be avoiding me?”

“I promise you he doesn’t know,” Peter comforts you, “He’s too oblivious to know, you could have your tongue down his throat and he would still think you lot are just friends.”

“I’m so embarrassed,” you put your head in your hands.

“You’re fine, he doesn’t know,”

“I don’t know, I should go after him. Should I go after him?”

“Maybe we should just let him be for a minute.”

A minute turned to hours, hours turned to days, days turned into a week, and any of you barely had any contact with Remus.

Until Friday night before the quidditch match, Remus hadn’t spoken a word to anyone and avoided you at all costs.

Before the game he stopped James as he headed into the team’s tent.

“James,”

“Hey, mate, see you’ve finally come to your senses and came to talk to me,” James said with a tinge of sass. To say James was upset at Remus was an understatement, James hated to be shut out by his friends.

“Just shut up and listen. She has this huge thing for you and you should know that, just in case she tries something tonight at the party, just be gentle with her,” Remus shoots out quickly, talking about you.

James looks at him like he’s batshit crazy.

“…What?”

“James I know you’re smarter than you look, you know who I’m talking about,”

“Yeah, I do, but there’s no way,”

“Yes there is, I heard her and Lily talking about you when I went to borrow that book,”

“Okay… are you sure?”

“As sure as the day is long.”

James pulled a face at him, “Okay, mate, yeah. Whatever you say.” He patted Remus on the shoulder as he walked into the tent.

Why was James being so sarcastic with him? Remus would do anything for your attention and affection. Remus brushed off James’ attitude and went to find a seat in the stands

He watched as the Gryffindor team came out of the tunnel and began the match against Hufflepuff.

Both you and James were chasers, Remus sat slumped in between Lily and Mary as he watched you and James fly close together.

In the air, far from the stands, James absolutely unloaded to you about what Remus had said to him before the match.

“I’m serious, I think he’s actually dense,”

“James be nice, he’s probably just not thinking straight,”

“I’m serious, he held me at the tent, telling me how much you are in love with me and how he overheard you and Lily,”

“Oh? What?”

“Yes when he came to borrow that book or whatever,”

“When? I haven’t even seen him all week?”

“It was Sunday night I think.”

Sunday? Sunday. You were talking about Remus. Not James. Merlin, he really is dense.

Neither of your attentions were really on the game anymore and the two of you had just been circling around the pitch passing around the quaffle.

You had Remus stressed. Why were you and James just talking? What are you talking about? This is the worst match he’s ever been to, he should’ve just stayed in his dorm.

Marlene circled around you and took the quaffle, “If you’re going to fly circles around the Hufflepuff players, at least score us some points. Talk about your gossip shit on the ground,” she shouted out.

Finally snapped back into it, you centered your focus on the game around you. How are you going to make this right?

The game ran longer than normal because of the close score, but Gryffindor had ended up catching the snitch, abruptly ending the match.

You and the rest of the team showered and headed to the Gryffindor common room, just ready to conk out on the couches, but alas, the Gryffindor common room never sleeps.

When you arrived, there was a bustling party. James, Sirius, and Marlene jumped right in, some of the other players went up to their dorms, but what could it hurt if you stayed down a bit longer?

You scanned the party for your close friends, mostly Lily. When you had found her, you dragged her off to a quieter part of the room and told her everything James had said on the pitch.

“I agree with James, he’s actually dense,” Lily rolled her eyes.

“Why would he think I have a thing for James? That’s outrageous!!”

“I don’t know, maybe you should talk to him,” she pointed over to where Remus was sitting on the stairs alone, only observing the party, swirling a cup of who knows what.

You approach him, but he didn’t seem to register it; he was lost in his own world.

“I heard you’ve been spying on me,” you say gently, but loud enough he could hear you over the music. He looks up at you and then down at his cup, his cheeks flushed.

“May I?” you point to the spot next to him and he nods.

“You know I think you really are dense,” he snaps his head at you.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. How could you possibly think I like James?”

“You said- you said he was gorgeous and perfect and his pranks-“

“Yeah, I did say he was, but I didn’t say James was,”

“So it’s Sirius or Peter then?” He thought hard next to you, everything you said applies to all his friends.

“Merlin, you really are stupid.”

You roll your eyes at him and grab his shirt pulling him in closer to you. Your lips collide with his softly and he’s shocked, but gives in.

You pull away and he looks at you dumbfounded, “So you said all those things about me?”

“Do I need to make myself clear again?”

“Actually, I do think so,” he says with a smug grin.

You pull him in for another kiss, it’s safe to say he doesn’t think you like James anymore.

[ash5monster01]

Glass Houses

Chapter Seven - Through The Long Night 🎶

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader

Warnings: depression, ptsd, minor angst, mentions of evil, mentions of trauma, fluff

Summary: Pregnant with your first child you find the nightmares of Hawkins creeping back in. The only thing Steve can do is comfort you.

word count: 2.2k

Six ←→ Eight

Masterlist

Summer 1991

You're broken hearted from a long, long time ago

It's late when Steve rolls into the driveway, already dark out after a long and warm summer day. What confuses him is the pitch black house in front of him, not even a flicker of life shining from inside. You knew he'd be back from his business trip late tonight, had even expressed your excitement over the phone. He had expected to see you waiting up for him on the couch, smiling with anticipation after the long three days you spent without each other. He had been dying to see you but the coldness of the house in front of him makes him think you weren't the same.

The house is just as it seems on the outside. Cold and dark, each room lacking a sign of life. It briefly reminds Steve of a time in his life when it was only him who lived in this home, dreading his return to it each night. It isn’t until he reaches the top of the stairs he hears the faint noise of music coming from your shared bedroom. He recognizes the tune as Billy Joel’s album Glass Houses. The beginning notes of I Don't Want to Be Alone beginning to play softly into the room. Carefully he turns the knob on the door just to find the bedroom is just as dark as the rest of the house, your form curled under the covers, but he can tell you're not asleep.

"Rosy, I'm home" he calles out, navigating the dark room carefully as he moves to your side of the bed. You shift lightly as he sits on the edge, arm automatically reaching and caging you onto the bed. His free hand reaches for the lmap, flicking it on to finally reveal you in some warm light.

"Everything okay?" he inquires, smiling softly at you. The hand propping him up by your hip glides up slowly to brush across the expanse of your stomach, a small bump jutting out and ruining your chance of wearing any of your favorite jeans. You try to smile up at him, but as his hand rests against the very thing making you this anxious, you can't bring yourself to do it. Steve notices this as you set your hand on top of his own. It hits him, the cold hands, sad eyes, the dark silence, something was upsetting you. Upsetting you enough to hideaway so you don't have to face it.

"How was your trip?" you ask, avoiding the question as best you could but Steve doesn't care about if his trip was good or not. The whole time he only thought about coming back home to you and your soon to be little one. He didn't want to think about that trip ever again, he just wanted to spend time with you. When he doesnt respond to the question and instead calls your real name softly into the room, you realize he won't let this go.

"You're scaring me, what's going on?" he beckons, reaching to brush some hair out of your face and due to the hormones you are unable to stop the tears from rushing to your eyes, seeping down the sides of your face and into the pillows.

"The other day Mrs. Wheeler invited me to dinner since I was here all alone. She said she missed having us kids and wanted to have us all together for a night, especially while the kids were home from college. Nancy convinced me to go and I was excited. We laughed and had fun, even played a board game in the basement. Just like old times" you smile softly at him, eyes glimmering with tears and his eyebrows draw together in confusion, still not understanding where this had all taken a turn.

"Okay, that sounds fine. Actually a bit sad I missed out" Steve says witht he shake of his head, trying to find the detail that would cause such a sadness out of you.

"It got late and some of the kids started to drift to sleep. I realized I hadn't been in that basement since Max..." you dont need to finish as you get choked up on tears because Steve finally understands what happened. You sigh, hating how you tremble with tears shed for something that hasn't even happened.

"I'm terrified those things are going to come back one day and we wont be able to stop it. I'm terrified our kid will be unable to escape them just as us. I nearly lost you so many times, I faced injuries I still never fully recovered from. I remembered all the bad and I hate that in just a few short months my heart will be on the outside of my chest and I won't have any way to protect it" you cry, holding your stomach that held the child you already loved more than anything on this earth. You knew the minute he or she was born, they'd carry your heart with them forever and in a place like Hawkins, the risk was higher.

"Baby, the monsters are gone. Its been a long time since we've had to fight any of them. We can't worry too much, there will be things other than monsters our kid will have to face in life and we'll be here for every single one of them. The best we can do is teach our kids how to defend themselves and to trust us when things as scary as a demogorgon faces them" Steve reassures, pulling you closer to him. His words calm you only slightly but you had been left alone with these thoughts for far too long for them to go away that easily.

“I know, I just don’t think I’m ready to face that just yet” you whisper into the dark room and Steve sighs, loosening his grip on you so he can stand.

“What do you need from me?” he asks, wanting to be there for you while you work through this. He knows it’s normal and probably 50% hormones. A first time mother is meant to worry and if his words weren’t enough to reassure you he would do whatever else it was that could comfort you.

“Just, wait through the night with me” you tell him and he nods, toeing off his shoes and making quick work of unhooking the buckle of his belt. You watch him, in a much less shameless way, but more with admiration. You’re beautiful husband who somehow always looked more handsome than ever.

Once he’s stripped down to his boxers he crawls into his side of the bed, eyes catching the clock as he does. It’s so late but he’ll wait through the long night with you, wanting you to work through whatever these emotions were. When he settles behind you he feels the familiar shudder of your back that indicates warm tears and the start of bad dreams. The soft trembling of your shoulders against his chest as you relive old fears. He wished he could make you realize he was here, for all of it. Not just for tonight but for every moment after. That was half of him in there too and that terrified him every day. Being responsible for a kid when he never had any experience with good parents of his own.

"It's okay" he reassures, voice a soothing hush as he tries to coo you to sleep. It's comforting to have him back but those nightmares that you once pushed so deep down were at the surface again and no matter what Steve did, he couldn’t coax it out of you.

As Steve lays there, smelling the florals of your shampoo and feeling the warmth of your skin, he wonders what dating him had cost you. If you had never been together you wouldn't know about the darkness that lurks in Hawkins and had seen all of those horrible things. He had almost lost you, once a long time ago when fighting that very evil. That was the last time he ever wondered if his happiness was worth the nightmare. He wished you would have told him how bad it was, how deeply it affected you, but he also knew the exact position you were in. You had to bleed to know and all those sins are since past.

"You should be sleeping. It’s alright, sleep tight through the long night with me" he whispers, hand tucking your hair down against the pillow and pulling you tight against him. You relax into the comfort of his arms, enjoying the pressure his hold gives you. Like an anchor at sea.

"It's not your fault you know, I think I would've ended up finding out about the upside down even if I didn't know you. You didn’t start it" you tell him, eyes cast on the stereo on the other side of the room that glows as it plays the comforting music. Billy Joel who had now been both of your favorites. Steve loves how you know exactly what he's thinking even as you are fighting your own demons. This was the very reason he fell for you. No one on this earth understood him more than you. Becoming new parents already came with its own set of fears but knowing where you live adds so much more to that. Steve knows you're broken hearted from a long time ago and there is nothing he can do now to fix it but sit here and hold you.

"The way you hold me is all I need to know" Steve tells you and you offer up a soft smile, rolling to face him and wrap your arms around him as well. Hugging each other in the comfort of your home where you are soon to raise your kid. It’s late but you'll both wait through the long night with each other. Until the sun comes up and the demons from the past seem much less scary. When Steve's presence in the home has returned and you feel a layer of safety around the bubble you managed to pop in just three days. Your pregnant belly nudges against his own stomach and he grins, dropping a hand to cup gently over the bump.

"Did the work trip go okay?" you ask again, this time not as a distraction but as an actual investment into your husbands life.

"It was fine, lots of paperwork and a few drunk co-workers but we managed to sign off on a few deals. I just couldn’t wait to get back to you two" Steve says and your heart soars over the idea of there being more than just the two of you. In fact you couldn't wait for the day there was even more. Despite your fears the idea of a full home, kids as sweet as the ones you've protected over the years, was the real dream.

"We couldn't wait for you to get back either" you smile softly at him, leaning forward to press your lips against his in a sweet kiss. He sighs gently at the feeling, hand leaving your bump to tuck into your hair as he kisses you slowly. The very reunion kiss he had been desperately waiting on. You hum in delight, imagining a day your child is actually here to wait with you and be curled up in both of your arms. If someone had told you all those years ago when you met Steve in a record store, that you'd be having his kid, you would've begged for a time machine.

"You give any thoughts to a name yet?" he curiously asked, face so close now that you could admire the soft curve of his eyelashes. You don't even realize he has already distracted you from the sadness within. Mind moving further and further away.

"Possibly" you tease him with a cheeky grin and he laughs, squeezing softly at the dough of your waist before pulling you even closer. Your legs instantly tangle with his own.

"Care to share with the class?" he asks and you smile, moving your hands to brush the soft locks of hair out of his face. He watches you closely, admiring the extra glow you’ve had through this entire pregnancy. Happy you've taken the bait and have slowly started to calm in his arms. If only he knew how much you had spiraled throughout the entirety of this past weekend.

"If it’s a girl, I was thinking Clara" you tell him, hand mindlessly brushing down your tummy and yearning to actually touch the baby inside.

"And for a boy?" he asks and you smile, eyes shining into his own.

"What do you think of Johnny?" and just as you predicted, a look of shock paints his features as you mention his Grandfather's name. John Harrington, the very man who made Steve the kind and caring human he was today and the very man that introduced him to Billy Joel. In a sense you never would have met if it wasn't for that.

"It's perfect" he says and you smile, leaning forward and kissing him again. This time the kiss is less savory, more eagerness behind it due to the excitment of a baby boy or girl coming in just a few months.

"I knew you'd like it"

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[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Eddie Munson's second chance

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 14

Prompt: Angst with a happy ending

Rated: G

CW: referenced child neglect/abuse

Tags: Modern AU, Royalty AU, Royal Steve Harrington, Rockstar Eddie Munson

Notes: Continued from day 11. This was angstier in my head, but Eddie is a silly goose.

Eddie Munson is no stranger to fucking up. He's long accepted that. It's just a thing that happens.

Sometimes, you'll miscalculate a stage dive and have to cancel the rest of the tour. 

Sometimes, you'll get so caught up in your stupid rockstar stuff, you'll forget about the youth center you founded to give other kids a better childhood. 

Sometimes, you'll meet an adorable guy named Dustin at said youth center, and rant about how useless the monarchy is, only to find out that Dustin isn't Dustin at all, but Crown Prince Steven Harrington, aka the future king, aka owner of the saddest pair of puppy dog eyes that Eddie has ever failed to get out of his goddamn head. 

Which brings him to his current predicament, sitting on the edge of his bed, waiting for Chrissy to pick up the phone. She does after the second dial tone, which is pretty impressive for three in the morning. 

"We must cancel the royal visit," Eddie blurts before she can ask what's wrong. 

"Eds," she yawns. "We've been over this. Just because you can't stand the guy-" 

"That's not it," Eddie groans. "Listen … I met him yesterday? Only I didn't know it was him? And I flirted with him and he was really cute but I couldn't keep my fucking mouth shut and now I can't ever see him again because I don't wanna rot in some dungeon, understand?" 

"No," she says. Damn, it sounded perfectly logical in his head. "But this doesn't seem like something we should discuss on the phone. Stay put, I'm coming over." 

*

They don't cancel the royal visit, but Eddie refuses to make an appearance. Instead, he watches from behind the curtains of the office window like a creep. The Prince looks dashing in his tailored suit, smiling for the cameras, joking with the kids, listening to Chrissy with polite attention as she shows him around the place. Eddie loves her so fucking much, will be forever grateful that she filled in for him. 

Even if she tied it to one condition. 

He watches how she whispers something into the Prince's ear, how his smile melts into an angry frown. How they both turn to stare at the window. Eddie flinches away from the curtains, heart in his throat. 

He wonders if the dungeons have WiFi. 

*

"You have exactly ten minutes," says the bodyguard. It’s the same one from yesterday, the one called Hop. Eddie doesn’t reply, just nods stiffly. Hop looks at him like he's contemplating murder, but then he ducks out of the room with a muttered all clear.

Prince Steven steps in. The door clicks shut. Silence descends. 

"Well," Eddie finally mumbles. "I guess this is the part where I bow and grovel." 

The Prince snorts. "Please don't, Mr Munson. I'd rather you save us both the embarrassment."

Eddie winces, because ouch. That stings more than it should. 

Neither of them says anything for a long while. The clock on the wall keeps ticking. 

"So," Eddie rocks awkwardly on the soles of his combat boots. "Who's Dustin?" 

Those plush lips twitch into a smile and those pretty eyes light up. For a moment, Eddie glimpses the boy from yesterday. 

"My housekeeper's kid. He'd be so mad if he knew I met you and didn't get him an autograph." 

He says it with genuine concern, like he's honestly afraid of getting shit from a little kid, and Eddie can't help but grin. 

"Don't worry, I won't tell." 

This gets him a huffed laugh. 

"He'd love this place, it's really cool." 

When Eddie looks up, the Prince is looking at the picture frames on the walls, photos of smiling kids and drawings in crayon and watercolors. Eddie sighs and joins him, stares long and hard of a picture of Max on her skateboard. 

"Thanks. I, um … grew up around here, and I wanted to give these kids a safe space. Where they can just … be children. I never really had that myself." 

A thoughtful hum. Those hazel eyes are soft with an expression that looks weirdly like longing. Eddie remembers watching stories about the royal family on his uncle's rickety TV set. A solemn-faced boy his own age trailing behind his parents outside of private jets, in lush parks and gilded halls. Always in expensive suits. Always well-behaved. Always way too grown-up.

Well, shit. 

"Listen, your highness …" 

"Steve is fine." 

"Listen, Steve …" Eddie lets the name linger on his tongue, finds that he likes the feel of it. "I guess I've been a bit of a dick." 

A hint of that bitchy little smile. "You guess correctly." 

"Whatever," Eddie huffs. "I'm trying to apologize here, so may I? Or are you throwing me in the dungeons?" 

"The …" Steve blinks. Then, his mouth starts to curl. "We, um … don't actually do that anymore. Unless you're into that, then I'm sure it could be arranged." 

Eddie sputters and Steve bites back a laugh. 

"If you really wanna make up for it," he then says. "I hear your concert next week is all sold out? Dustin would love backstage tickets." 

Eddie frowns. 

"Dustin as in the kid or …" 

"Steve?" Hop cracks the door open. "Time to go, c'mon." 

Steve smiles, bright and sunshiny. "On my way." 

He turns to Eddie, grabs a pen and a notepad from the chaos on the desk.

"Backstage tickets, two of them. I'll be expecting them by tomorrow." 

*

When Chrissy bustles in not five minutes later, she finds Eddie in the office chair, staring morosely at the still drawn curtains. 

"Eds? Everything okay?" Eddie just groans and hides his head in his hands, so she crouches down in front of him, hands on his knees. "He didn't give you shit, did he?" 

"Shit? I wish. No, it's far worse than that." Eddie cackles hysterically and unclenches his fist, presenting a crumpled piece of notebook paper. "He gave me his number." 

Part 3

All my holiday drabbles