#.Cherry Street School

[t13shoots]

[fooltofancy]

never stop bein impressed by how many insane accidents happen at the only busy intersection in this very, very small town.

[hoshifighting]

Cherry Picked

Synopsis: To get closer to university, you decide to move back to your childhood home. That's when you bump into Seungcheol, an old friend you haven't seen in ages. Surprisingly, he still remembers how much you loved the cherries he used to pick for you from his backyard when you were kids.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: Ex neighbors, ex childhood friends to lovers, smut, oral (f. and m. receiving), ass slapping, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, cum swallowing, praising, pleasured tears, Seungcheol is such a sweet guy (he gives cherries in your mouth), wap and etc.

The decision to move in with your grandma came from the practicality of being close to the university you were about to start. As you settled into your chosen course, you realized that the proximity of your grandma's house would not only provide a familiar and comforting place but also ease the transition into this new chapter of your life.

The idea of being near the university meant more than just convenience. It was an opportunity to reconnect with the cherished memories of your childhood, with the added support and love your grandma could offer. As you stood on the familiar sidewalk in front of your grandma's house, memories of childhood vacations flooded your mind. The pretty white house, with its charming garden and welcoming porch, stirred up emotions as the taxi came to a stop. It was a neighborhood filled with nostalgia.

Taking your baggage from the taxi, you looked around at the fancy houses lining the street. Children played on the sidewalks, and elders observed the comings and goings of the neighborhood, a scene that hadn't changed much since your middle school days.

You walked up to the front door, memories echoing with each step. With a deep breath, you touched the ring bell, anticipation bubbling within you. The door opened, and there stood your grandma, her eyes lighting up with joy. She enveloped you in a tight hug, the warmth of her embrace and the familiar scent of good food in the air immediately comforting.

"Oh, sweetheart, it's so good to see you again!" she exclaimed, holding you at arm's length to get a good look at you. "Come in, come in! I've been waiting for this day."

You stepped inside, and the atmosphere of the house embraced you like an old friend. The scent of home-cooked meals wafted through the air, instantly transporting you to the countless happy moments spent in this very place.

"I've cleaned up your room, dear. I wanted everything to be just as you remember it," your grandma said, leading you down the familiar hallway. The floor creaked slightly beneath your feet, adding to the symphony of memories.

As you entered your childhood room, a flood of emotions washed over you. The room, though tidied up, held remnants of your past – the posters on the walls, the cozy bed, and the worn-out but cherished belongings. It was as if time had stood still.

"Thank you, Grandma. It feels like I've stepped back in time," you said, a lump forming in your throat. "I've missed this place."

She smiled warmly, patting your cheek affectionately. "You're always welcome here, my love. Now, freshen up, and we'll have a nice dinner together. There's so much to catch up on."

As you settled into the room, the nostalgia continued to weave its magic, creating a comforting cocoon that wrapped around your heart. 

As you sat down for dinner with your grandma, the aroma of home-cooked meals filling the air, she couldn't help but bring up the topic of your love life. With a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, she asked, "So, any boyfriends in the picture, dear?"

You chuckled, poking at your food. "No, Grandma, no boyfriends at the moment. Just focusing on university and settling in."

She raised an eyebrow playfully, "Oh, come on! Someone as beautiful as you must have admirers."

You blushed at the compliment, "Well, maybe, but no serious contenders."

With a mischievous grin, she leaned in a little closer. "You know, now that you're back in the neighborhood, maybe you'll find someone interesting. I did see Seungcheol, you know, Mrs. Choi's grandson from down the street. He looked so cute the other day."

You tilted your head in confusion, surprised by the sudden matchmaking suggestion. "Seungcheol? Really, Grandma?"

She chuckled, nodding. "Yes, really! He's a nice young man, and he's been doing some work around the neighborhood."

Amused by your grandma's matchmaking efforts, you couldn't help but burst into laughter. "Grandma, you're something else. Maybe I'll bump into him and say hello..."

She joined in your laughter, the sound echoing through the familiar walls of the dining room. "You never know what the neighborhood might have in store for you!"

The morning sun painted a golden hue over the neighborhood as you tiptoed down the stairs, determined not to disturb your grandma, who was still enjoying her peaceful slumber. After a good night's sleep and a hearty breakfast, you felt refreshed and ready to explore more of your childhood haven.

Entering your bedroom, you set about tidying up a few things. As you moved some items around, your eyes fell upon a dusty old box tucked away in a corner. Curiosity piqued, you opened it to find a treasure trove of dolls and toys, relics from your own childhood.

A smile played on your lips as memories flooded back, and an idea sparked. The sound of children playing in the garden next door echoed through the open window, and you recalled the two little girls you had seen the day before. With the box of toys in hand, you made your way down to the garden.

Leaning against the fence, you called out to the two girls who were engrossed in their own imaginative play. They turned to you, their expressions a mix of curiosity and surprise, but soon broke into gentle waves as they approached.

"Hi girls!" you greeted them warmly, holding up the box of toys. "I found these old dolls and toys in my room. Would you like to play with them?"

Their eyes widened with excitement, and genuine smiles spread across their faces. You crouched down, placing the box on the grass and inviting them to explore its contents. The girls eagerly delved into the box full of dolls, their joy infectious.

As you were about to bid them farewell and head back inside, they called out, "What's your name?"

You chuckled at their innocence. "I'm Y/N," you replied.

They exchanged glances before one of them asked, "Y/N, do you want to play with us?"

You hesitated for a moment, the memories of your own carefree days flooding back. With a warm smile, you sat down on the grass, joining the two girls in their imaginative world. The laughter, chatter, and the timeless joy of play filled the air as you momentarily lost track of time.

As you sat on the grass, enjoying the laughter and playing with the two little girls, the crunching sound of approaching footsteps caught your attention. A shadow fell over you, and a friendly voice rang out, "Hi, pretty girls. Your mom is calling you for lunch."

Looking up, you were met with the sight of a handsome young man holding a basket full with cherries. You quickly got up, brushing the grass off your shorts, and apologized, "Oh, sorry. I didn't realize how quickly time passed."

He smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "No worries at all. It looked like you were having a great time."

Glancing over at the two girls heading into the house for lunch, you returned your attention to the boy in front of you. As you looked into his eyes, you immediately recognized the gummy smile and the familiar warmth it brought. The basket of cherries triggered a flood of memories, and it dawned on you that this was Seungcheol – the same Seungcheol who used to deliver cherries to your grandma's door when you were younger.

"Seungcheol?" you asked, a nostalgic smile playing on your lips.

His eyes widened in pleasant surprise, and he returned the smile. "Yeah, that's me. You remember?"

"Of course!" you exclaimed, a wave of memories washing over you. "You used to deliver cherries to my grandma's house all the time when I was younger. It's been years."

Seungcheol chuckled, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "Wow, small world. I remember your grandma always appreciated those cherries. My grandma used to send them directly from her backyard."

As you both started walking towards the house, cherries in hand, Seungcheol continued, "I still help my grandma with the cherries. It's a tradition now. Anyway, it's good to see you again. Your grandma mentioned you're back in the neighborhood."

"Yeah, just moved in," you replied, a smile tugging at your lips. 

Your attention shifted to the basket of cherries Seungcheol held, the fruit looking ripe, round, and tempting. — Cherry is still your favorite fruit, but you don't know if he remembers— Seungcheol noticed your gaze and offered, "Want some? They're fresh."

You smiled gently "Oh, no, thank you. I'm good."

Seungcheol grinned, seemingly understanding, and said, "Alright, I'm going to deliver these. I'll leave you right at your door. It's literally the next house."

As you walked together towards your grandma's house, he carried the basket of cherries with ease. The short distance allowed for a brief conversation.

"So, how's everything been since you moved back?" Seungcheol inquired, his casual tone making the conversation feel effortless.

"It's been good," you replied, a genuine smile playing on your lips. "Just settling in, you know? It feels nice to be back."

Seungcheol nodded in understanding. "Well, we're all happy to have you back. The neighborhood has missed you."

As you reached the doorstep, Seungcheol stopped, turning to you with a small bow of his head. "Well, here you are. If you ever need anything or just want to catch up, you know where to find me."

With a friendly wave, Seungcheol continued on his way, leaving you standing at the familiar doorstep of your grandma's house.

[...]

The doorbell chimed, and your grandma, bustling around in the kitchen, called out for you to answer it. You eagerly made your way to the door, and as it creaked open, there stood Seungcheol, a vision of a hardworking young man with a basket of cherries in his hands.

Dressed in a white shirt that clung to his muscular arms and chest, with gardener jeans bearing the traces of dirt and a smudge on his face, he looked like he had been tending to his grandmother's backyard. The baskets he held were filled with an abundance of cherries, their vibrant red hue catching your eye.

"Hey there," Seungcheol greeted, a warm smile on his slightly flushed face. "Remember cherries being your favorite?"

You beamed, genuinely surprised by the thoughtful gesture. "Yes, they still are. How did you remember that?"

He tilted his head, a hint of shyness coloring his cheeks. "Oh, you know, memories just pop up sometimes." Seungcheol handed you the larger, more beautiful basket of cherries, and your heart skipped a beat.

"Wow, thank you so much," you exclaimed, the surprise evident in your voice. "Are these for me?"

He nodded, his smile widening. "Yep, especially for you. I hope you like them."

Your heart warmed at his gesture, and you thanked him sincerely. Watching him head towards his house, you closed the door behind you. Turning to your grandma, who had observed the exchange with a knowing grin, you both burst into laughter.

"Oh, Grandma, Seungcheol brought cherries," you shared, holding the basket close to your heart.

She chuckled, a twinkle in her eyes. "Well, isn't that sweet? Looks like someone remembers your favorites."

As you savored the cherries Seungcheol had brought, your grandma, with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, reminded you of her plans for the next day.

"By the way, dear, tomorrow I'm going to a senior's dance with Mrs. Choi," she said, a playful smile playing on her lips. "Do you mind being alone for the evening?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at her teasing tone. "Oh, not at all, Grandma. I'll be just fine. You go enjoy the dance. It sounds like a lot of fun."

She nodded, her smile widening. "Good, good. You know where everything is if you need anything. And who knows, maybe Seungcheol will be around to keep you company."

Your cheeks warmed at the suggestion, and you playfully rolled your eyes. 

As the next afternoon rolled around, you glanced out the window and noticed Mrs. Choi and your grandma making their way to a taxi. Seungcheol, being the courteous young man he always was, helped them into the cab with a gentle demeanor.

Hidden behind the door, you couldn't help but smile at the scene unfolding before you. Seungcheol's kindness and attentiveness were evident, and the sight warmed your heart. It seemed like some things never changed, and Seungcheol continued to be the sweet, considerate person you remembered from your childhood.

You took a moment to appreciate the simple beauty of the moment – the friendship between the grandmothers and the helpfulness of Seungcheol – Seungcheol turned around, catching your eye, and offered his signature gummy smile. He approached you, a bit of dirt still clinging to his gardener jeans, and started a conversation.

"Hey there," he greeted, his warm gaze fixed on you. "My grandma asked me to keep you company while they're out. I hope you don't mind."

You quickly responded, "Oh, no, it's not necessary. I don't want to bother you. You have your work to do."

Seungcheol chuckled, shaking his head. "No bother at all. In fact, it's my invitation. Come with me, and you can watch me pick the cherries."

You hesitated for a moment but couldn't resist the genuine warmth in his invitation. "Well, if you insist. I wouldn't mind watching you in action."

With a playful grin, he gestured towards his grandma's backyard. "Great! Let's go."

You followed him to the back, finding a cozy spot on the little stairs that provided access to the rear of the house. Seungcheol, with his basket in hand, started picking cherries from the lush trees.

As the comfortable silence settled between you and Seungcheol, you took a moment to bask in the warmth of the sun, closing your eyes and relishing the feeling on your skin. When you opened your eyes again, the scene had shifted. Seungcheol was now busy washing the cherries inside a bucket.

His movements were light and deliberate, but your attention was quickly drawn to the definition in his arms. The gardener's jeans showcased his strong legs, and as he washed the cherries, the muscles in his forearms flexed with every careful movement. A sheen of sweat glistened on his skin, running down the side of his ear, and his chest was accentuated by the tight white shirt.

You found yourself captivated by the unintentional display of his body. The sight of his veiny hands moving gracefully as he washed the cherries seemed to mesmerize you. The play of sunlight highlighted the contours of his arms, and you couldn't help but follow every movement, unintentionally getting lost in the scene unfolding before you.

Without noticing, your legs were pressed together and your lip bitten between your teeth, panties getting ruined by how wet you are. 

As you lost yourself in the unintentional admiration of Seungcheol's physique, you were oblivious to the fact that he had noticed your subtle reactions – the rise and fall of your chest, the slight furrowing of your eyebrows. Little did you know, he had seen it all.

Breaking your reverie, you looked up to find Seungcheol walking towards you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. In his hand, he held a single cherry, and a playful smile adorned his face.

"Y/N," he said, holding the cherry between his fingers. "Open your mouth."

You widened your eyes, a sudden self-awareness hitting you as you adjusted your posture. Seungcheol, undeterred, gracefully squatted in front of you. With a gentle yet confident gesture, he presented the cherry, and you complied, opening your mouth to accept the fruit.

Seungcheol delicately placed the cherry on your tongue, and your lips wrapped around it lusciously. The subtle hum that escaped him at the view sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but blush at the unexpected intimacy of the moment.

Seungcheol sat down next to you, drying his hands with a towel, and his mischievous side took over. Leaning in, he whispered teasingly into your ear, his voice low and filled with playful intent.

"So," he began, his tone a playful drawl, "do you always look at guys washing cherries like that, or am I just lucky today?"

You breathe sharply, trying to compose yourself, so you don't seem more desperate than you already are. Seungcheol's playful teasing continued, his tone filled with humor as he leaned in a bit closer.

"Or maybe," he added with a sly grin, "you've got a secret cherry fetish? Admiring the way we handle them, huh?"

You couldn't help but laugh at Seungcheol's teasing remarks, his playful banter adding a layer of humor to the unexpected moment. "Oh, you caught me," you responded, feigning a dramatic admission. "I'm a cherry enthusiast, secretly critiquing everyone's cherry-picking technique."

Seungcheol joined in your laughter, the shared amusement creating an easy camaraderie between you. "Well, lucky for me, I've got the best cherry-picking technique in the neighborhood,"

"Is that the only thing you're good at?" you asked, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Seungcheol's expression shifted, his playful smile replaced by a more provocative look. He licked his lips and raised an eyebrow, his gaze holding yours with a hint of intensity. "Is there something else you think I should be doing?" he asked, the air between you suddenly thick with a newfound tension.

"Is there something you want to show me?" you asked, your voice laced with a teasing invitation.

Seungcheol's eyes darkened with a hint of desire as he bit his lower lip, the provocative expression sending a thrill down your spine. His response was a low, husky murmur, more teasing than ever, "Oh, I've got a few things in mind sweetheart."

"Yeah?" you responded, a playful glint in your eyes as you continued to eat him up with your gaze.

Seungcheol's control wavered, and with a sudden impulse, reached out, pulling you onto his lap. The move was confident and electrifying, instantly closing the distance between you. 

Seungcheol's response was a husky "Yeah," laden with desire, and without further hesitation, he closed the gap between you. His lips devoured yours in a heated kiss, a culmination of the teasing banter and charged glances that had been building throughout the afternoon.

The taste of sweet cherries lingered on both your lips, adding a sensual undertone to the passionate exchange. Seungcheol's big arms encircled your waist, pulling you closer, the proximity intensifying the electrifying connection between you. The world outside seemed to fade away as the kiss deepened, the shared desire threading through the intimate embrace.

Seungcheol grabbed your hair, exposing the delicate skin of your neck. The sudden roughness sent a thrill through your body, and you squirmed on his lap in response, making him groan.

His lips found your neck, and with a mixture of kisses and bites, he left a trail of sensations that sparked pleasure and desire. The intensity of the moment heightened as he explored the sensitive skin, each kiss and nip fueling the growing heat between your legs. 

Seungcheol's hands, still firmly gripping your hair, traveled down to your ass, his fingers squeezing the soft flesh with a teasing grip. The rough denim of his gardener's jeans added an extra layer of friction, making your pussy throb.

"Seungcheol," you breathed, your voice a mixture of longing and anticipation, "more."

His lips, still grazing your neck, paused for a moment as he looked up, a wicked glint in his eyes. "More, huh?" he teased, his fingers tightening their hold on your ass. "What do you want, exactly?"

"Fuck me? Please?" You ask almost begging, your hips grinding on his clothed cock.

The boldness in your response seemed to ignite a deeper flame within Seungcheol. His eyes darkened with desire, and a low, guttural moan escaped his lips at your explicit request. Without further words, he took immediate action.

His hands, still firmly grasping your arms, guided you to stand. Seungcheol, driven by the hornyness, led you towards the inside of the house. Pressing his bulge on your ass, as he grabs your tits over your shirt, making you mewl. 

Seungcheol's hands skillfully unclasped the buttons of his gardener. The fabric surrendered to gravity, finding its way to the ground, leaving him only in his shirt. With a swift motion, he discarded the shirt, casting it aside without a second thought.

With a swift motion, he pushed your shorts and panties down, and in the quiet of the room, you swore you heard a faint, tantalizing sound, perhaps a soft tearing as fabric met the fervor of the moment.

But to be honest, out of all the problems– your pussy clenching around nothing – a rip in your shorts was the least of it.

The way Seungcheol looked at your sopping cunt, spreading your folds with two fingers admiring how soaked you looked, the action made you leak. "Hmm, looking so wet for me, I should pick cherries in front of you more often…" He smiles, giving an open-mouthed kiss on your clit.

Your legs flinch, and immediately involve his two arms around your legs, tugging you down. "Shit! Yes Seungcheol!" 

He sucks your clit bobbing his head, his mouth forming a pout around the bud while his tongue slipped inside of your pussy sometimes. As a welcome, the last thing you expected to receive when you arrived in the city was to have your childhood friend eating you out like a starving man, while holding your legs tightly.

Seungcheol tried to keep you pressed on the bed, but your hips bucked against his face and your legs trembled around his head, so in a way to keep you quieter, he slapped your thigh, making your body jolt. "A-ah!" Well, he supposed it would keep you quiet.

But you arched your back, moaning his name deliciously while your hands gripped the sheets. 

"Oh? You liked that?" He gives you a surprised glance. And you nod, your cheeks flushed. 

His hands caress the skin before giving you another slap, another and another…  

“Y-you’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that.” 

He grins, before starting to lap your clit fast, your head immediately spinning because of the different stimulations. And your orgasm comes without warning, the strength of his arms can't prevent your legs from wrapping around his head.

Arousal fat drops run down your cunt, making his face and lips glossy. As Seungcheol got up, the air in the room seemed to shimmer with the residue of your orgasm. Your breathing was heavy, each inhale a reminder of the intensity.

The sight of Seungcheol's milky skin, now fully at your disposal, rekindled a surge of energy within you. Almost immediately, you couldn't resist the urge to reciprocate, driven by a fiery desire that demanded more.

With a burst of enthusiasm, you wrapped your hands around his neck, surprising him as you playfully knocked him onto the bed. His laughter filled the room, a harmonious melody to the charged atmosphere. Undeterred, you leaned down, your hands now venturing towards the hem of his underwear.

Tugging at the fabric, you slid the underwear down his leg, revealing more of his bare skin. His hard cock jumps from the piece of cloth, the head flushed and the slit already leaking the glistening precum. 

Sensually, you wrapped your tongue around his cock, a slow and deliberate motion from the base to the tip. The moment reached its peak as you provocatively put the whole dick inside your mouth, your lips touching the base of his pelvis. Seungcheol's body squirmed in response to the sensual display.

The room fell silent, except for the sound of Seungcheol moans and the slurping of your mouth on his cock. 

Seungcheol's hands thread through your hair. His touch guided you as you continued to enjoy the length of his dick. His chest rose and fell in rhythm with the growing intensity of the moment. Soft whimpers escaped his lips, each sound a testament to the desire that pulsed through his body. 

"Fuck… You're taking me so well." His breath hisses when his tip presses on the tight clutch of your throat.

He loves how messy you're taking his cock, your drool mixing with his pre cum, dropping to his pelvis. As he bucked his hips, you gagged around his cock, the combination of sensations driving him to a new height of pleasure. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and the room echoed with the sounds of his moans.

"Fuck hmm, fuck, I'm coming!" He warns, the dick twitching inside of your mouth. The warm spurts of cum hits your tongue while his grip on your hair tightens, making you groan. 

The room hung in a momentary silence as you released your mouth from his cock, revealing your tongue glistening with his cum. With deliberate intent, you closed your mouthh and swallowed, the action met with a defeated moan from Seungcheol.

Hel grabs you and pulls you into a deep, passionate kiss. His hands gripped your ass, making the flesh jiggle under his touch. The embrace was both fervent and possessive as your tongues entwined in a delicious struggle, you felt the heat of Seungcheol's cock recomposing against your thigh. 

Seungcheol, with a sudden assertiveness, rolled your bodies on the bed, placing you underneath him. Like a masterful dance, he flipped you effortlessly, your chest now pressed against the mattress. You felt his strong hands holding your hips up, and you instinctively wiggled your ass against his already hardened dick.

His husky voice whispered in your ear, "You look amazing like this. I'm so hard already" The words hung in the air, carrying with them a sense of appreciation and desire. 

In response to Seungcheol's appreciative words, you teased, "Yeah? So why don't you do something about it?"

"I didn't remember you being this bold," he remarked, his voice laced with amusement.

Your playful giggle reverberated in the room as you pressed your hips against Seungcheol. The renewed contact elicited a hiss from him, a reaction to the wet feeling between you.

Seungcheol teased, a smirk playing on his lips, "Admit it. I've officially ruined cherries for you. From now on, every time you see one, you'll think of me."

Raising an eyebrow, "Why are you so sure of it?" Before he could even respond, he silenced you abruptly, slamming his dick inside and effectively shutting up your words, even as you screamed in response.

Seungcheol, now teasing you in return, whispered in a husky voice as your body trembled on the sheets. "Looks like cherries aren't the only thing I've ruined for you," he teased, a wicked glint in his eyes.

Oh, of course. Your pussy really looked ruined now.

You, caught in the swirl of sensations, tried to retort, but he continued his playful banter. "Maybe I should find more things to claim," he mused, his hands exploring your body with a deliberate touch. "What do you say?"

"Oh my g-god! Fuck you!" 

The sharp response you gave to Seungcheol only seemed to fuel his desire. Without missing a beat, he slammed his hips hard again, asking mockingly, "What?" The rhythm of his movements became relentless, a series of repeated slams that left you gasping and screaming, the room filled with the sounds of pleasure and desire.

He continued the forceful thrusts, each one pushing you further into a state of ecstasy. The wetness that enveloped his dick, your slickness dripping on his bed, but you couldn't care less, not when his dick was buried deep inside your cunt.

Seungcheol, merciless in his actions, mocked playfully as your voice became silenced by pleasure, "Not talking anymore, huh?" Your eyes filled with pleasure-induced tears, and your face buried in the pillow, the sensations becoming overwhelming as he brought you mercilessly to the edge.

The room seemed to pulsate with the wet sounds echoing from your pussy, the intertwined moans of pleasure grew louder with each passing second. Every thrust hits your sweet spot, until the familiar sensation starts to be present. And Seungcheol could teel, for sure, since your pussy clenched hard around his cock, making him whimper even louder.

Seungcheol, in the midst of the passionate encounter, asked you to let go completely, urging you to release your pleasure. "Cream all over my cock sweetheart… Oh my god, you look so good baby!" he whispered, a genuine appreciation in his voice.

As you complied, cumming all over his pretty cock, he couldn't help but express how good you looked. Sincerity laced his words as he admired the sight before him – your hair falling beautifully on the bed and on your face, your arched back, lips parted, furrowed eyebrows expressing ecstasy, moans escaping your blissed-out face.

Seungcheol moaned in pleasure at the captivating view in front of him, praising you as he felt himself getting closer. "You're so beautiful like this, lost in pleasure. I can't get enough of you."

As Seungcheol's abs tightened, you felt the surge of intensity as he filled you up with his cum. You took everything, your face buried in the pillows, a mixture of pleasure and raw emotion washing over you. His hips stuttered in the final moments, the room filled with the sounds of shared ecstasy.

As Seungcheol withdrew, a moan escaped your lips at the sudden emptiness, your body feeling both spent and satisfied. The aftermath of the intimate encounter left you sprawled on the bed, a mix of pleasure and exhaustion.

Seungcheol, after the intense and intimate exchange, finally laid beside you. As you both lay there, catching your breath, he looked into your eyes "You know," he began, his voice a gentle murmur, "this feels like coming home again. Having you here, it's like rediscovering a part of myself that I'd almost forgotten."

[wrongplacerighttime]

fratboy!harry x you

hi hi! its been awhile. finally finished this after 3834273 weeks it feels like. its also my first reader fic so....hope you like it HAHAHA.... :)

the one where your friends introduce you to Harry, you go on a trip and things get interesting. featuring a lake house, hiking, and a cherry sucker.

wc: 5.8k

tw: smut 18+, spanking, choking, light dom!harry dynamic, brief clit slapping, brief face slapping, lil bit of cum play, size kink, breeding kink if you squint. idk if i missed anything but as always let me know if i did :)

cherry sucker

Finding solace in the chirping birds and chattering on the street that could be heard from your open window, you stood in front of your closet, clad in a little white tank and baby blue undies, preparing your bag for a camping trip you and your friends had planned. Spring semester has concluded and this trip will commemorate the start of summer vacation. You daydream about the sun glistening off the ripples of the lake water, the smell of the grass wafting in the wind as the sun warms the earth while you pack your bag. 

While you were excited for summer, you wanted to get a head start on your reading for fall semester. You had a textbook or two in the bottom of your bag—poli sci books, because you had heard the professor was relentless with his lesson plan and you wanted to go in with no surprises. You hear the faintest footsteps down stairs, growing louder the closer they drew up the stairs. Your door swings open and Faye strides through, red hair flowing behind her at the pace she was walking. She comes up behind you, smacking your ass making you yelp. 

“Faye!” You squeal, clutching the cheek that was now turning red with your best friend's hand print. 

“I’m so envious of your ass, I just had to.” She falls backwards on your bed, arms sprawling beside her. “It’s just so tempting.” She giggles and you turn back to your closet.

“I’m so glad we actually have time to see each other now that classes are over. School’s been so busy I feel like all I’ve done is sleep and go to class.” 

“Is that why you have a fucking textbook in your bag?” Faye raises her eyebrow at your duffle and picks one up. “Russian socioeconomic structure? What even is this?” 

“It’s for Professor Sykes. I’ve heard he's brutal and I want to be prepared.” 

“You are not bringing this. You have a whole summer ahead of you to study.” Faye scoffs, pausing for a moment. “If you bring this book on this trip I’ll throw it in the lake myself.” 

“Then you’ll owe me $200. Besides, what if I get bored?” You cross your arms over your chest and Faye looks at you like you’ve grown another head. 

“There’s a lake! A lake!” She throws her hands up in the air, laughing at your determination. You bend down, opening your drawer and pulling out a skimpy yellow bikini to throw in your bag. “By the way, Josh is bringing a friend. His name’s Harry…Styles I think. Do you know him?” You shake your head. 

“Know of him, don’t know him though.” 

“Oh. Well he’s single…and kind of hot.” Faye giggles and you shake her head again.

“No thanks. I’m not really into the dating scene right now.” 

“No one said anything about dating. Just maybe for a little…fun.” This time, it’s your turn to look at Faye like she’s the one who’s grown another head. “Fine. If you don’t want to…maybe he’ll be our third.” She wiggles her eyebrows and you widen your eyes in horror at her suggestion of asking Harry to join her and her boyfriend in their sexual endeavors. 

Before you can get another thought in, heavy footsteps clamber up the stairs and it’s Josh, Harry in tow with a backpack slung over his shoulder and suddenly your room feels very small. Josh flicks his eyes to you, smiling and sitting next to Faye on your bed. 

“Pauly and Alex are on their way. We’re putting all the shit in their car and you guys are gonna ride with us.” He says, gesturing his finger between the two of you and you nod. The window open brings a warm breeze into the room, blowing your sketchbook pages until it lands on one with a drawing of a man. 

Not just any man…it was your ex. Your eyes flick to everyone and you rush over to shut it before anyone can catch it. It was an old drawing, and a hobby you hadn’t picked back up since things ended and you really didn’t feel like rehashing the breakup with Faye. Faye wasn’t the biggest fan of him, and for good reason after he cheated on you with the TA in one of his classes last semester. 

Harry stands in the doorway, chewing gum between his molars, his jaw flexing and glances around your room—the bedroom of a girl whom he’d never met, and it felt very personal…like he was getting a peak into who you were as a person. An overflowing bookshelf, handmade drawings stuck to a corkboard on the wall over the desk. Faye and Josh were talking in hushed whispers and he tilted his head to the side as he had the perfect view of your ass as you were turned around and facing your desk. He smirks at the red hand mark left there, and he could feel his cock twitching in his pants at the thoughts running through his head. He drops his gaze as you turn back around to walk towards your closet again. His eyes meet yours and you smile, a greeting showing you were just being nice, and he wonders if you always walk around half dressed in front of strangers. He clears his throat.

“Sykes next semester?” He asks, voice with a hint of an accent you weren’t expecting and you nod. 

“How’d you know?” He gestures his elbow towards your bag, the textbook on top of your clothes and your mouth forms and “O” and you nod.

“He teaches that entire fucking book every year. It’s such a snooze fest.” He pauses. “Do you like Russian literature?” You nod again, gesturing to your bookshelf filled with classics and fantasy and romance. You had a few authors on the shelf, but not as many as you would like. He brings his backpack around to his side, unzipping and reaching in. He pulls out a tattered book, crinkles in the cover and the corners turning up, all characteristics of a well loved piece and hands it to you. “Read this instead. A lot more interesting.” He smirks and your gaze drops to the words on the cover. A collection of poems by Anna Akhmatova. In the short conversation you were having you didn’t realize that you had been left alone with him. He smiles, a sly grin spreading on his lips almost like he knew he was about to be a menace. 

“By the way, blue looks good on you.” He flicks his gaze down before meeting your eyes again. You feel your cheeks burning instantly as he walks out the door laughing to himself as he stumbles his way down the stairs, leaving you to finish packing alone.

The car ride to the cabin had everyone buzzing with anticipation. Faye had called shotgun, and you and Harry shared a look when she did. He smirked and you looked away and quickly climbed into the backseat. The entire ride you were consumed with a nervous energy that you couldn’t quite place. Harry had his hand splayed out on the seat beside you and when he leaned forward to talk to Josh, the tip of his pinky barely brushed your skin and you tried not to think about it too hard for the rest of the ride over.

It took no time for you to clamber out of the car and claim your room inside for the weekend. Tossing your bag onto the floor by the door, you flopped down on the fluffy mattress holding the book Harry lent you to your chest. You were fiddling with the cover when Faye waltzed in and leaned against the foot of the bed. 

“Get up. We’re going on a hike.” She said giddy with excitement and you cocked your eyebrow at her. 

“Think I’ll pass.” 

“Not an option. Everyone else is going.” She crosses her arms and leans on the doorframe. 

“I didn’t bring shoes for a hike.” You half laugh at her with a shake of your head and she narrows her eyes. 

“You can wear a pair of mine. Let’s go.” Faye gestures and you groan, tossing the book back onto the bed with a soft thud against the duvet. You pad down the hallway after her, slumped over feigning protest like a toddler and she hands you a pair of her sneakers once you reach her room. Slipping them on, you plait your hair behind your head quickly and messily as you find your way to the foyer where everyone is gathered and waiting to leave. None of them look thrilled either as they follow Faye out the door to the path behind the house.

The June sun was high in the sky and the only reprieve you were able to get from the heat was the occasional shade of the trees along the path. You and Harry had fallen behind, the rest of the group up ahead and through heavy breaths you would sneak glances from the corner of your eye as the sun glistened off the light sheen of sweat coating his shoulders and his chest. He had popped a cherry sucker in his mouth not long ago and you watched as he moved it from one cheek to the other with his tongue and caught your mind wandering to what his tongue might feel like running along the expanse of your skin. You walk in silence, hands brushing slightly from the uneven terrain and you want to apologize for repeatedly bumping him but you don’t. 

“Does she always make you do shit like this?” He huffs from behind you, stepping over a fallen limb.

“Unfortunately.” You grumble back, trying not to roll your ankle stepping over rocks bigger than the palm of your hand. 

Even though this hike was the last thing Harry wanted to be doing, he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed your company, though little conversation had been exchanged since the moment in your room. His eyes trailed over your body, noticing the bead of sweat rolling down your chest and his tongue darts out over his lips, wanting nothing more than to trail his tongue down the same path. He watched the way your thighs flexed as you stepped over limbs and branches and he thought about them wrapped around his waist, driving into you over and over while your fingers leave marks over his torso. He pulls his shirt over his head, unable to take the heat of the afternoon any longer and he tucks it into the waistband of his shorts. He’s noticed you watching him too, stealing glances out of the corner of your eye and biting your teeth into the pillowy flesh of your bottom lip. He’s convinced that he could do anything and you’d melt into the palm of his hand, so desperate to please him and be good for him. He smirks to himself as you divert your eyes ahead, away from his now bare torso and towards the ground. 

He looks at you briefly before his eyes flick ahead, and you don’t know that he’s judging how long it would take for your friends to notice if he pulled you out of sight for a moment.  He decides it’s worth the risk, lightly grabbing your arm and pulling you behind a nearby tree. You feel the bark against your back as he cages your head between his arms and you look up at him with wide eyes. All you can hear is the pounding of your heart against your ribcage at his close proximity. 

So close you can smell the cherry on his breath, hear the faint sound as the confection clatters against his teeth. Your eyes focus on the white stick poking from between his lips and he watches you. His hands dig into the roughness of the oak and his chest pressed against yours. Suddenly the heat of the afternoon feels suffocating. He brings his own hand to his mouth, plucking the stick from between his teeth and the sticky residue touches your lips. Upon instinct, your tongue darts out to collect, catching the sweetness and savoring it for a moment. 

“Open.” His voice is low and gravelly, and for some reason you find yourself obeying his command before you can even think too hard about it. Your lips part and you stick out your tongue in anticipation, a smirk playing on his lips as he watches you and he hums. “Can y’hold this for me, puppy?” 

A heat swirls in your core, and without noticing your thighs clench together and a whine escapes your throat as you nod. Harry places the sweet candy on your tongue and your lips wrap around the stick slick from his own salivation. “Good girl.” He mutters, stepping away and creating space between the two of you. You snap out of the trance you seemingly had fallen into and scurry away, catching up to your friends and leaving him laughing behind you. 

Nightfall comes before you have a chance to think about it. You had taken a quick nap after you returned from the hike and it was much needed, considering your mind was going haywire and you just needed a break from your thoughts drifting to Harry. It was quiet out here, you and Harry the only ones left sitting next to the fire Josh and Pauly had started a couple of hours ago. You were huddled up under a blanket, the air blowing off the lake making it feel colder than it actually was. Frogs were humming by the water and the crickets were chirping in the grass, the sounds of nature around you made you feel calm. You had the book Harry had loaned you resting against your thigh as you read the prose on the weathered pages. Harry had his head leaned back, fingers weaved together on his chest with his eyes closed. Occasionally you would peek over at him and he seemed tranquil. You weren’t sure why he was still here with you, but maybe he was just enjoying the fire like you were. You had purposely avoided him after the incident on the hike, the memory still causing an arousal to pool beneath the denim of your shorts and you tried like hell to push it from your mind.

“Let’s swim.” He states, pulling you from your thoughts. You raised your brow at him, a quizzical look. 

“I’ll pass.” You blow out a laugh and he turns his head towards you then. 

“Why? Faye and Josh are off somewhere, probably fucking, and Pauly and Alex are doing bong rips inside. Not really a fan of that…they're incessantly annoying when they’re high. So let’s go swim.” He says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders as if it was the most sound choice of activity for this time of night.

“It’s cold, and I’m actually enjoying this book of poems you lent me.” You tell him, and because you’re not looking at him at that second you don’t see the way the corner of his mouth twitches into a half smile. 

“Anna Akhmatova is interesting. But you have all weekend to read it.” He turns to face you then, you catch the movement out of your peripheral.

“I also have all weekend to swim.” You tease him. He’s silent for a moment and you turn the page to read the next poem. He shifts in his seat. 

“Alright. I didn’t want it to have to come to this…” He says, sighing. He stands, making his way over to you. Before you can process what he’s doing, he snatches the book and throws it onto a neighboring chair. In one swift movement, he picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder as he walks towards the dock. You thrash and kick but it’s no use, not when he’s stronger than you’ll ever be. 

“Harry! Put me down!” You exclaim, laughing in the process and you feel his chest against your thighs. He doesn’t respond. “Okay! I surrender. I’ll swim with you. Please just don’t throw me in.” You try to reason with him and he stops, pausing his movements and taking in your words. He plants your feet on the weathered wood, and you look up at him with narrowed eyes as he smiles down at you, a crooked grin that had your knees feeling weak. “That wasn’t funny. I don’t have a swim suit on either.” 

“I guess that gives us a perfect excuse to go skinny dipping then.” He states as if there’s nothing wrong with that scenario. 

“Respectfully, no. I’ll swim in my clothes.” You counter back.

“Sweet girl, it’s nothing you or I haven’t seen before. Be mature.” He teases and you want to laugh, but you cross your arms over your chest, instinctively making yourself smaller. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of his shorts before looking back at you, noticing your hesitation and he stops. “We really don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He puts his hands on your arms, and you shake your head, looking out at the ripples on the surface lit by the moon. 

“No it’s—I’m not—it’s fine. I want to. I just haven’t really taken my clothes off in front of a guy in—since…” You pause, collecting your thoughts before looking up at him. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t know why I’m being this way. I think I’m just nervous.” 

“You don’t have to feel that way around me. Promise.” He smiles and turns back around, pushing his shorts down so you have a view of his bare ass. Your cheeks redden as you avert your gaze elsewhere, and he jumps into the water with a splash. You can’t see him, not until he pokes his head back up and shakes the water from his hair. “It feels great.” He covers his eyes with his hands. “I won’t look if you don’t want me to. Not until you’re in the water.” He says and you nod, and then realizing he can’t see you clear your throat. 

“Okay.” Your voice feels small. Hesitantly you unbutton your shorts, sliding them down along with your underwear and pulling the sweatshirt over your head leaving you bare and exposed, and you hoped and prayed that Alex and Pauly weren’t watching out the window. You drop it to the dock, your clothes and his making separate piles, taking a step towards the edge and looking down into the water. Here goes nothing, you say to yourself and leap in. And he was right, it really did feel great. It envelopes around you as you swim upwards and breach the surface, wiping your eyes and opening them. He’s there in front of you, a smile plastered on his face. 

“See, s’not so bad, right?” He asks and you shake your head again as you tread the water. And you both stay like that for a while, swimming and floating. He floats on his back and you try a little too hard to not let your gaze travel south, focusing on his face and how content he looks with his eyes closed. You’re too busy staring at the tattoos littering his torso when he says something you don’t quite catch.  

“Hm?” Your gaze flits back to his face and he’s smiling. 

“I said,"Do you like what you see?” He laughs and you can feel your cheeks redden because he caught you staring at him. 

“I’m sorry.” You apologize sheepishly and he swims over to you, closing the distance and you bite back a grin at the close proximity. 

“Don’t need to apologize, sweet girl.” He says, his voice low and he brings his hand up to thumb over your lips, parting them before his thumb runs over your cheek. “Be lying if I said I haven’t been staring at you all night.” He confesses and you think if you were nervous before, then you’re not sure what you’re feeling right now. It feels like a stampede of elephants is running through your belly as he runs the backs of his fingers across your cheek. You decide to just rip the bandaid off and go for it. Your hands find his face and you crash your lips to his, and he’s taken off guard but the next second his hands dip under the water and he pulls you into him, the warmth of your bodies melding together underneath the surface. Upon instinct, your legs wrap around his waist as you push your chest into him, causing him to tighten his grip on your waist, dimpling the skin beneath his fingertips. 

It was almost like neither of you needed to speak, once the kiss had broken you both swam fervently towards the dock. He hoists you up by your waist, quickly dressing just to go inside and get undressed again. He pulls you by your hand towards the cabin, and you say a silent prayer that your friends who were in here made their way outside. 

By the grace of some higher power, the house was empty and the air inside was cold and smelled of the aftershocks of bong rips and a half smoked joint. Harry pulled you down the hall, into his room, and shut the door behind him with a click of the lock. 

He smirks and he pushes you down into the bed, hair wet and sticking to the skin of your neck. He crawls over you after pulling your shorts off and throwing them somewhere across the room, slotting a knee between your thighs and instinctively you grind against him, gripping onto his biceps. He hooks a finger in the waistband of your panties and slides them down your thighs in one swift move, and you kick them the rest of the way off in anticipation.

“Been thinking about taking those off since I saw you prancing around your room in them this morning.” His voice drops an octave as he ghosts the tip of his nose along your cheek , tracing the outline of your jaw as you desperately move your hips seeking for any friction it would give you.  He pulls back, looking over your features and you can see his pupils blown from his own pleasure. 

“Look at you.” He coos, clicking his tongue behind his teeth. “Taking before I can even give anything to you, so selfish.” He purrs, and somehow the tone of it makes you stop, halting the movement of your hips. 

“No. Go ahead, angel. Wanna watch you get yourself off just from riding my thigh. Need it so bad, can’t even help yourself.” He coos, but his tone is condescending and you almost question him. He raises a brow, running a thumb over your cheek delicately. The harsh tone of his voice and the softness of his touch playing mind games with you. “Do it. Be a good girl.” He encourages you, and you feel like it’s a trap. 

“N-no. Want whatever you wanna give me. I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.” You pout your lower lip out and he thumbs over it, pulling it down before it bounces back into place. You like that he takes initiative, being dominant over you like it comes so easily for him. He can see the wheels in your mind turning and he cocks his head to the side. 

“What?” 

“Nothing. Just never done this before. Never had someone be…” You trail off, but he nods like he already knew what you were going to say. 

“I see. Sweet girl’s never had someone take control over her?” You shake your head. He rolls his lip between his teeth, eyes flittering around your face. “But you crave it, don’t you? Just wanna be a cock-drunk little slut? Wanna have someone filling you, telling you what to do?” His words penetrate your brain and your eyes flutter closed. “Answer me. Is that what you want?” He demands and you nod, faster than you ever have and he flashes his pretty smile at you. 

“Yes. Please.” Finding your voice, begging him. He shifts, pressing his thigh into your center and a whimper falls from your lips, the heat growing between your thighs. 

“Go.” He leans down, pressing his lips to your pulse point and trailing kisses down your collar bone. Slowly, your hips begin to move and you’re almost embarrassed at your arousal coating his skin, glistening in the soft glow of the lamp. You push the thoughts away, focusing on your pleasure as you feel his hardening length against your thigh, pressing into you. You reach down, palming him through the material before he grabs your wrist and pins it above your head. “Didn’t tell you you could touch.” He mumbles against your skin and you whine in protest. Your hips move faster now, and you’re so close. Just as you’re about to tip over the edge, he pulls away and your lungs deflate, a breath being taken away from you. He stands over you, pushing his shorts down and your eyes widen at the sight of him. You want to reach out and grab him, pump his cock with your hand but you refrain. He leans over you again, planting kisses down your chest and dipping in the valley between your tits, his nose ghosting over your skin. 

“Want you to tell me red if you wanna stop, okay? Green if you wanna keep going. Got it?” He asks and you nod. He peeks up at you through his lashes and cocks his brow. “Words, puppy. Can’t hear a nod or a shake.”

“Yes. I’m—yes. Got it” You’re breathless with your answer. He peppers small kisses over your navel, gripping your hips between his fingers as his head dips lower, kissing the insides of both thighs, trailing his tongue over your skin and purposely skipping over your weeping hole just to make you squirm under his grip. He parts you open then, collecting your arousal on his tongue and the wicked sensation makes your back arch from the bed, pushing your core closer to him and he forces you back down. 

“Uh-uh. Stay still or I’ll stop.” He mumbles, and a whine bubbles in your throat. He laps lazily st your core, circling and flattening his tongue over your clit as you try your hardest to keep your hips still. His fingers dimple your skin, digging into the muscle underneath. He knew he was gripping hard enough to leave small bruises in the shape of his fingertips, and he wanted to. Wanted you to remember his head between your thighs as you shattered just from the flick of his tongue against your sensitive bud. You’re a mess of moans and panting his name over and over. He pulls your clit between his teeth and your hips jolt upwards and he pushes you back down to the mattress. He pulls away, and your chest heaves at the loss of contact but a cry escapes your throat when he lands a light smack to your center, and the pain morphes into pleasure as tears well up in your eyes at the sting.

“Told you to stay still. Can’t follow simple directions, angel?” 

“M’s—sorry.” You gasp and he glances up at you, noticing your wet lashes and he props himself up on his elbows. 

“What's your color, sweet girl?” His tone is gentle, planting a soft kiss to the top of your thigh and peeking up at you from under his lashes.

“Green.” You answer eagerly and he smiles against your skin, crawling back up to level with your eyes. His lips find yours and you open, allowing him to push his tongue into your mouth against your own, the room around you melting away. It’s slow, sensual and full of desire. He doesn’t pull away as he lines himself up with you, the tip of his cock teasing your aching hole and you move your hips trying like hell to get him further inside. 

“So needy.” He mumbles against your lips and pulls your bottom one between his teeth, nipping gently. He pushes into you slowly, your mouth dropping open as he lays his forehead against your collarbone. “So tight, sweet girl. I don’t think m’gonna fit.” He pushes into you further, teeth marking your skin as he groans against your skin and you whine at the sting of him stretching you. 

“Fuck, Harry.” You whimper, he cages your head between his hands, holding himself up as his biceps flex and extend, the sinewy tissue underneath his skin prominent. He looks down between your bodies, where he's halfway sheathed inside your pussy and he chuckles, a breathy laugh that morphs into a sigh. 

“Pretty little pussy looks so pitiful like this. Can’t do it, puppy.” He pants, and you know somewhere in the back of your mind that he’s just playing a part, but it doesn’t stop the cry that escape from your throat as you beg him to fuck you. 

“Please, Harry. Need you. Want you so much. Can take it, promise. Please.” You look up at him with wide eyes and he admires you for a moment, taking in the pout playing on your pretty mouth that he just wants to kiss away, the tears welling in your eyes that he’ll wipe away if they fall. The need in your voice letting him know you’d do anything he asks of you in this moment. 

“Alright, I’ll give it to you. Gonna go slow til you’re all stretched out f’me.” He palms your thighs, hiking them around his waist and continues to fill you, your head lulling to the side as your eyes flutter closed and your jaw falls slack when he reaches to the hilt, balls resting against your ass as his head falls back. “So fucking good, angel. Look at me, wanna see those pretty eyes.” 

So you listen, do the best you can to force your eyes open as he starts to rock his hips into you, pulling out to the tip before filling you up again and again. He hikes your leg over his shoulder, kissing down your calf as he sets his rhythm, going deeper from this angle. His eyes never leave yours as he groans and nibbles on your skin, peppering small bites and then soothing with his tongue. He hits the right spot every time, and when your eyes finally betray you and fall closed, you feel a smack land on your cheek. Not hard, but just enough to sting and you whimper. 

“Thought you were a good girl.” He says through gritted teeth and he drives into you harder. 

“I-I am. Want to be good for you.” He grunts at your response, he pulls out and flips you over before pulling your ass up in the air so you sit on your knees with your face down in the mattress. He palms your ass, landing a smack to your cheek. He rubs over the spot gently, soothing as you push closer into his touch and he's climbing behind you, lining up and pushing back in and it feels even better from this angle. Hitting every spot just right and you swear you see stars. He reaches around you, pushing on your tummy just under your navel and wraps his other hand around your throat lightly, pulling you up. 

Your back is flush with his chest, skin sticking together from the light sheen of sweat coating both your bodies. One hand squeezing the sides of your neck and the other pressing still on your belly and he nips at your ear.

“Can feel me all the way in your tummy, can’t you? This is what you like right? Nobody’s ever had you like this have they?” He whispers and you shake your head. His hand finds yours and he brings it back to the spot just below your belly button. “Feel that? Feel me so deep in this pretty pussy. Gonna get you all full of me, fill you with my babies.” He grits and squeezes your neck a little harder, the corners of your vision darkening before he lets go and you take in a full breath, feeling high on him…and he’s all you know. His words, his hands roaming your body and his cock stretching you. 

“Harry, I’m so close.” You breathe out and he grunts, lips ghosting over your shoulder blade. 

“I know…can feel you squeezing my cock so tight angel. C’mon. Cum for me.” He encourages you and you shatter around him, pussy pulsing around him bringing him to his own release as he paints inside you. He wastes no time pulling out and you topple over from your legs feeling weak and he dips down behind you. You feel him dripping out of your hole, and his fingers spread you open. Pushing one inside with no warning, he fucks his cum back inside of you with his fingers and you hum, unable to make any other noise and he chuckles behind you.

“Like being filled like this? Look so pretty full of me, dripping out of you. Never gonna forget it.” He mutters, planting a kiss on the small of your back before standing. Finding the energy to roll over, he offers his fingers to you and you take them between your lips and taste the mix of both of you on his fingers. He curses under his breath at the sight of you, feeling his cock twitching back to life and he pulls them away to stop himself thinking about fucking you again and again.

You slept in his bed that night.

The weekend ended all too quickly, and you were half asleep in the back seat of Josh’s car with your head resting on the window, holding Harry’s book on your thighs and fiddling wither cover, something you had become accustomed to as you read the prose on the pages or when you closed in while engaging in conversation. Truthfully, you didn’t know if you’d see him in that capacity again after this weekend and didn’t know if you wanted to go back to being strangers that passed each other in the economics building on campus. 

Josh pulled up to the house you and Faye shared, and Harry follows you out of the car. He retrieves your bag from Pauly’s car for you, carrying it up to your room and putting it down on your bed. You almost felt like you were having deja vu, the scene similar to one from Thursday afternoon, except this time you weren’t half naked in front of him and he wasn’t just a stranger in your room anymore. You look around, then to the floor before meeting his eyes and he smirks as he leans against your doorframe. 

“Here.” You hand him the book but he puts his hands up, shaking his head.

“Keep it.” He says, and you almost refuse but accept it anyway. He bites the inside of his cheek, shifting his weight and shoving his hands in his pockets. He steps closer, brushing your hair behind your ear as you look up at him. “Don’t be a stranger, angel.” 

“I won’t be.”

He leaves you there, standing in the middle of the room with his book clutched to your chest with a cheesy grin plastered on your face.

And you knew it wouldn't be the last time you saw Harry Styles.

[satorisoup]

𝓣𝓘𝓜𝓔 𝓐𝓝𝓓 𝓣𝓘𝓜𝓔 𝓐𝓖𝓐𝓘𝓝 . . .

𝓈𝓎𝓅𝓃𝑜𝓈𝒾𝓈 — satoru finds himself reminiscing on all of the fond memories he had of you, right until the very end.

𝒸𝓌 : 2.9k words. bittersweet. grief. angst. sickness & death. childhood best friends to lovers. mentions of children. noncurse! au.

𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 — this was my piece for @saelique’s angst collab !! also my first time writing angst :0 | @omitea @steleir

satoru recalls the time he met you at your neighborhood park, the one your mom would take you to every tuesday. playing in the sandbox, dolls and castle shaped molds carved into the warm grains. dusty knees that dug into the sand as you played, laughing and giggling to yourself. and when he bounced his way over to you with a pep in his step, he remembers you asking,

“ do you wanna play, too ? ”

he remembers his surprise at your question, falling into the sand with a thud as you broke out into a childs laughter at the pout on his face. he played with you until he heard the call of your name from your mother, face forming into a sad frown knowing you had to leave your new friend behind.

“ it’s okay, we can play next time ! ”

he could never forget the wide smile that replaced the tears that were forming in your eyes, waving goodbye at his promise to play in the sandbox again.

———

satoru muses his excitement when he found out you moved to the same street, just a few houses down. the feeling of the warm sun beating down on his bare skin, grass tickling the bottoms of his feet as he ran in your backyard through the sprinklers. you had a frilly swimsuit and popsicle stained mouth as you giggled and ran through the water once more.

he remembers how sometimes you couldn’t pronounce your r’s just right, so when you yelled out his name in retaliation after he pushed you into the cold sprinkler, all that would come out was a loud and precious,

“ s’towu ! ”

he remembers his gross grape flavored otterpop in the summer heat, because he knew you wanted the cherry one.

———

satoru reminisces on your first day of middle school together, bow ties and uncomfortable uniforms that were just a bit too big on you.

he remembers how you used to get bullied, vowing to protect you against the “ meanie’s ” that picked on you at recess. he remembers the soft hug you gave him as you thanked him for helping you, incoherent babbles that spilled into his chest resounding of a grateful,

“ thank you, toru’ ! ”

he remembers sitting down at the round lunch tables to eat food with you, reluctantly sharing his lunchable he begged for at the store with you because he knew you would ask for a bite anyway.

———

satoru recalls when you two were in highschool, seemingly growing up together into adults. he remembers meeting his best friends, but they could never truly compare to the bond you two had.

he remembers how you made a new clique of girlfriends, sitting with them at lunch and playfully shooing satoru away when he’d try to sit down and join the gossip at the girls table.

he remembers the neatly packed bento’s you would bring for him once or twice a week, so you could share with him just like you did in middle school.

he remembers the way his heart started to betray him without him even knowing, being a teenager with fluctuating hormones that had him seeing you in a different light than that of a best friend. he remembers how he felt the slightest bit flustered when your hand would brush against his shoulder in laughter, your sweet laughter, and how his face would heat up when you’d give him a hug goodbye after walking you home. how his heart would skip a beat when you’d call for him from the courtyard, skipping to his side so you could walk with him to class.

he remembers how geto told him that he had a crush on you before he could even realize it himself. telling him that he could see his blush ridden cheeks and nervous laughter whenever you came around. how it was so obvious that,

“ you obviously really like her, satoru. ”

he remembers coming to the realization late at night that he was in fact in love with you, and he had no idea what to do about it. the feelings of doubt, nervousness, unsure about the outcome would corrode his mind but all he knew was he wanted you.

satoru remembers the many failed “dates” he planned, realizing all of the stuff you two were doing together was just part of the normal in your long friendship. he wanted you to see it too. he remembers when he randomly blurted out he liked you more than just a best friend in a flurry of frustration, and he definitely couldn’t forget your surprised face and happy smile that accepted him with the sultry agreement that fell past your lips, the way you looked up at him and back down to your feet before enveloping him in a hug,

“ i do too, toru’. ”

he remembers the embarrassed look on your face from your bedroom window upstairs, him holding up a large prom sign with the most cliche music imaginable playing from suguru’s car. he remembers the crack in his voice as he sang along, and the giggles that erupted from your mouth, sweet like candy as you accepted his proposal with a loud yell of,

“ i’ll go to prom with you, toru’ ! now go before my mom yells at you ! ”

he remembers dancing with you on prom night, swaying you in that beautiful dress that made him see you all the more beautiful. he remembers leaning in close, looking into your eyes and smiling brightly as he held you close.

he would never forget the first kiss you two shared. small, sweet, and innocent in all of it’s impatient glory. the beat in his heart grew faster, bumping against his chest when he pulled away to look at you like you hung the stars in the night sky and pulled the sun up from the horizon.

“ you’re beautiful, y’know that ? ”

———

satoru recalls when you both made your way to university, starting your true adult lives in your chosen career paths that would soon take you to success.

he remembers your dorm room, girly and poster ridden with neat organization. he remembers the pictures you had displayed of the both of you, keeping him dear to your heart even in the mess that college could be.

he remembers the bags under your eyes from the hard work you spent on your course finals. how you refused to sleep because it was “ just one more sentence ” when it really wasn’t. he remembers buying you food and “ scolding ” you as much as satoru gojo could possibly scold someone, demanding that you get some rest and eat until your belly was full.

he remembers the times when he would sneak into your room just to see you, late at night or in the early hours of the morning just to crawl into the sheets and hug your sleeping form. how soft your duvet was, and how your even breaths would make your chest rise and fall.

he remembers the study dates that took place at the nearest cafe, what was supposed to be a small and quiet place for patrons turned into hushed laughter and smeared pen ink. he remembers your order, how you would fight him to pay despite you drowning in student debt.

he remembers your graduation together, degree’s held tightly in your hands with big gowns and weird caps. how your parents were clapping for the both of you, immensely proud that you two had finally made it one step further into life.

———

satoru reminisces on the day he proposed to you. your long, flowy dress that fell by your feet in the spring sunshine. he remembers how his knee dug into the clovered grass when he asked you to be his forever. how the light hit your face from it’s reflection on the quiet river you two used to swim in at your younger ages. how you squealed and cried, getting down to his level to wrap your arms around him, pulling him towards you into a passionate kiss. how happy you were, how your eyes shined so bright when he placed the perfect ring on your dainty finger after your chants of,

“ oh my god, toru’ ! yes ! yes, i’ll marry you ! ”

he remembers how you looked for the perfect venue, but just couldn’t settle on one, until you had made your final decision to have your wedding in the place that had the most memories. how many long hours you spent sealing invitations and stamping them to send them off. how you forbid him from going with you to pick out your dress because,

“ you have to be patient, toru’ ! ”

he remembers getting ready in his childhood home, his best friend at his side who fixed his messy bow tie. how geto had to hold him down with two arms as to not let him free, as he was scolded for trying to walk a couple houses down to see you before the wedding.

he remembers finally seeing you walk through the grass of your backyard wedding, eyes pooling tears as he watched you shy a smile his way. he remembers your vows, word for word, and how you cried when he recited his. he remembers how he impatiently asked the officiate after saying your “i do’s”,

“ can i kiss her now ? ”

he remembers dipping you dramatically and placing his lips on yours. the claps and cheers surrounding you both from the people you cared for most, giggling into his mouth when he kept kissing you for a bit longer than expected.

he remembers your first dance, how he held you so close to the smooth rhythm of the song. how you swayed and spun with the direction of his hands, how beautiful you looked. he remembers feeling like you were the only people there, feeling on top of the world as he now got to call you his for life.

he remembers the way you laughed at geto’s stupid speech, taking the credit for making you two realize your love. how you hugged shoko so tight she could hardly breathe. he remembers your parents crying as they finally are got to witness their little girl grown up. how your father shook his hand in approval, and how your mother hugged him like he was her own, forever grateful that you chose someone like him to marry. he remembers the smiles and hugs you gave his parents, sweet and kind with the respect you showed towards them.

he remembers whispering into your ear when you two had caught a moment alone, antsy as he fidgeted with your bedazzled ring finger,

“ do you think can newly weds sneak out of their own reception ? ”

———

satoru recalls moving in to your childhood home together. he remembers sleeping by your side, sunken in to the comforters at night, and eating breakfast with you at the same kitchen table. the grass was as green as ever, confetti still spilled between the clovers from your wedding reception.

he remembers waking you up with soft touches and gentle kisses, and the grogginess in your voice when you told him good morning. he remembers the movie nights, with buttery popcorn and cozy blankets. the selfcare nights, when you’d insist he put a facemask on and scolded him when he would kiss you before it was dry.

he remembers the get togethers that took place in your backyard, familiar faces gathered in a bustle of cheery laughter and cool summer breezes. he couldn’t forget how he would lay with you in the grass to watch the stars in the quiet night, crickets chirping a tune in the cold wind that followed the moon.

———

satoru remembers finding a positive test on the old bathroom counter, excitement bubbling in his chest at the news that he would soon be a father. he remembers hugging you in a gentle twirl, basking in the feeling of pure enthrallment.

he remembers shopping for baby clothes, watching as you coo’ed at the tiny socks and little onesies. he remembers stocking up more diapers than needed, and building the crib for his soon to come baby.

he remembers laying his head on your small bump, listening to the tossing and turning of your baby as he felt the tiniest kick. he remembers how honeyed your voice sounded when you would sing to your unborn, caressing your stomach in pure bliss as you sang your quiet lullaby.

he remembers your baby shower, and how excited you were to cut the cake to see what color would be revealed. how everyone took their own guesses, and satoru insisted all that mattered to him was that your baby was healthy, but he secretly had a hope that it was a girl. he remembers slicing the vanilla cake with a hand over yours, bringing you into an embrace as you both expressed your excitement at the pink colored cake.

he remembers your labor, how his hand was crushed into dust at your painful squeezing. he remembers your heaves and your yells, how strong you were as you delivered your child. he remembers first hearing the cries of his precious baby, and cutting the umbilical cord.

he remembers looking at your daughters face after what seemed to be the longest nine months of his entire life, admiring her tiny hands and pretty tufts of thin hair. he remembers the small tears that leaked from his eyes as he looked from you to her, hushed whispers as he held your precious daughter in his large hands,

“ you look just like your momma… don’t you sweet girl ? ”

———

satoru recalls watching you play with your daughter in the backyard he used to play with you in. he remembers watching you run through the sprinklers while your daughter held your hand and followed, her frilly swimsuit ruffling at the hems as she giggled at the dewdrops that sprayed on her skin.

he remembers the way you cried when you sent your daughter on her way to her first day of school, missing tooth gleaming as she hugged you both goodbye. he remembers the way he kissed your forehead and assured you she would be alright.

he remembers the way you giggled when he got upset over your daughter receiving a valentine, pout evident on his face as he tried to prove his point by stating

“ that’s my baby ! no boys until you’re older, understand sweetheart ? ”

he remembers watching her grow up with you both, reminiscing on how old she was getting so quickly. how he would catch you looking back on photo albums from when she was a newborn, turning the pages of life up until the latest one.

he remembers how happy you were for your daughter when she graduated highschool, how you both enveloped her into a hug and cried at the time that had passed. he remembers her being sent off to college, and how you missed her so dearly.

———

satoru remembers growing old with you. the way the color eventually began to fade from your hair, shining of gray that you became a little embarrassed of. how the wrinkles from your constant laughter began to show on the sides of your cheeks, and how the crease in your brow was more prominent.

he remembers watching you fall ill, and how he couldn’t help you this time. he remembers holding your hand like it was a piece of glass, sitting at your bedside until the moon descended and the sun rose.

he remembers the softened, weak whispers that escaped from your mouth. the exhaustion in your voice and fatigue etched in your features when you called his name in the way you always had,

“ toru’… ”

he would never forget hearing the flatline of your heart, or the bustling of nurses at your side. how your hand turned cold, and how your eyes fluttered shut after he had gotten one last look at them.

satoru remembers the sobs that wracked his body day and night, white hair disheveled from his pure sorrow. how not even a hug from his best friend could replace your warmth in its entirety.

———

satoru stands in your once shared home now. he sees the old pencil markings on the door, and the bright green grass that held the fondness of your time with him. he sees your ring on his nightstand, lonesome with no finger to hold it. he can still hear the echoes of your laughter etched into the ceilings of your home, and he can still see the bright smile of yours in the picture frames that littered the walls. he wished in every waking moment for one more chance to hear your voice, to hear your giggles, to feel you, to hold you, to hear you call out to him with the gentle “ toru’ ” that would slip past your lips.

satoru could be asked by anyone what you were like, or the story between you two. he could reminisce on every memory, every date, every anniversary, every holiday. he remembered it all.

satoru would grieve you until his heart would give out, remembering his vows to you on your wedding night, his promise to you since he was youthful and bright,

“ until death do us part, and everything after. ”

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Teachers in love (Husband! Teacher!Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Teacher!Reader) Drabble

Hiiiiii! Got this idea from a TikTok, it’s very rushed so apologies if it’s not the best. Not proofread.

Fluff, established relationship

Word count: 480

Masterlist

—

“And then after you complete the lab, you and your partner are going to complete the packet I passed out to each table, any questions?” Miguel looked up from his paper with his usual deadpan expression, met with a few heading shaking no.

“Wonderful, everyone put on your safety glasses. I’ll be walking around in case anyone has any questions.” He finished off, before the shuffling of chairs and the quiet chattering of students started to fill the room. Just one more class until lunch time started and he could already feel his stomach begin to eat itself due to him missing his morning snack he’ll usually take before school starts, trying his best to not be snappy with his high schoolers.

“Mr.O’Hara, can you tell Miles to let me handle the fire? I don’t trust him with it.” One of his students, Gwen, asked as he passed through her and her partner's desk. “He’s too clumsy and his shoelaces are always untied.”

Miguel couldn’t help but hold back a groan and he looked down to the boys shoes that were in fact untied.

“Miles tie your shoes, you can’t participate unless they’re tied.” He said, which made his student quickly hand over the lighter to Gwen and go down to tie them so he wouldn’t get a marked down later on.

“Sorry Mr.O’Hara.”

“Mhm.” Miguel hummed as he was about to make his way to the next table when he heard a soft knock on the door,making his (and a few of his students) head turn towards the door.

“Hey sorry I’m interrupting, I knew you had a lab but it’s my free period and I figured I’d bring you lunch.” You said with a smile, holding up a bag of takeout, leaning against his open door frame.

“What’d you get me?” He asked with a slight smirk, crossing the room till he was in front of you, grabbing the bag as he places a quick peck on your cheek, not caring about the small display of affection in front of his students. Most of them had you as a teacher as well so they thought it was adorable.

“A sandwich from that bodega down the street.”

“You spoil me.”

“I know.” You chuckled as you glanced past your husband’s shoulder to look at his students that were watching you both rather than doing their assignments and gave them a small wave before looking back at your husband. “Okay I’ll leave you to it, see you after school.”

“See you after school amor.” He gave you one last peck before sending you off, a smile lingering on his face as he turned back to his class.

“Alright, enough guys back to work.” His voice going back to its stern nature despite his lighter body language, taking a seat at his desk as he unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite.

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @mcmiracles @mangoslushcrush

@queerponcho @yournextbimbogf @tinybirdhideout @reader-1290 @laysmt

@migueloharasoulmate @fruityfucker @pigeonmama @scaryplanetdestroyer

@migueloharastruelove @krentkova19 @genny1019 @maiyart @stressed-cherry @haveclayeveryday

@leonsbimbogf @bmoplanet @carmison @c4rm1son

[disneyprincemuke]

passing the phone (rookie edition) * fem!driver

(series masterlist) | (📂 a day in the life)

“i’m passing the phone to somebody who texts like he’s writing a professional email.”

oscar scoffs, staring off camera as he takes the phone into his hands. “excuse me for writing the way i was taught.” he lifts up the phone. “i’m passing the phone to somebody who didn’t know what a kilometer was until he was 15.”

“because i grew up miami, the fuck,” logan mutters. he sighs. “i’m passing the phone to somebody who has a million problems with drs, which, seems to only be his issue.”

“whatever.” oscar scrunches his nose. “i’m passing the phone to somebody who tripped when she was stepping up to the podium and then cried about it for a half hour on the way home.”

“wow,” she mutters, eyebrows furrowed as her cheeks slowly turn red. “passing the phone to somebody who barely remembers our trip to barcelona because he partied too hard.”

“passing the phone to somebody who’s a 21-year-old virgin but gives advice like she’s a licensed therapist,” oscar says quickly, putting the phone down to smirk at her smugly.

“passing the phone to somebody who got suspended from school for a week because he told the teacher that he didn’t care about school and had to miss a karting race that weekend as punishment.”

“i’m passing the phone to somebody who had a crush on our literal best friend,” oscar says, leaning into the mic and whispering as he looks around cautiously.

logan stares into the camera wide-eyed, slowly turning to oscar who’s giggling in the corner. “what the f-“

he reappears at the camera, calmer this time. “passing the phone to somebody who talked to the quiet girl making top 30’s during karting because he thought she was kinda cute.”

oscar sighs. “i’m passing the phone to somebody who cried outside the club in singapore because the food we ordered for dinner was too spicy for her to handle eating.”

she rolls her eyes. “i’m passing the phone to somebody who got catfished in secondary school by a guy pretending to be a girl.”

logan smiles, cheeks red as he held the phone up. “i’m passing the phone to somebody who got broken up with over a 13-second phone call.”

“low blow,” she frowns. “passing the phone to somebody who pulled up to the club with fake eyelashes because he lost a bet to me.”

“passing the phone to the girl that picked up and adopted three kittens she found in a box at the corner of the street in austin at 5am after a night out,” logan scowls.

“i’m passing the phone to somebody who made being american his entire personality.”

“and i’m passing the phone to somebody who almost made us miss our flight because he left his passport on the toilet sink at the airport,” logan scowls.

oscar’s lips are pressed together in a thin line. “i don’t wanna play this game anymore.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife @vellicora @leilanixx @meadhgbcavanagh @2bormaybenot @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @love4lando @sadg3 @bborra @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Simmer #1

CH1. Home Style | The Menu [3.7K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

Jim’s Midnight Grill wasn’t the magical place the name made it sound like.

In fact, it was worse at night. Hawkins' only diner sat on the outskirts of town, just before the road that took you out alongside the cornfields. In the height of a sunny day, the water tower cast a shadow over the old building and the gas station next door only had one working pump.

The leather booths were constantly sticky, the table tops grainy with spilled salt, but if you made your visit on a Thursday night after nine, milkshakes were two for one. The back alley was littered with cigarette butts, graffiti on the walls telling you who to call for a good time— and someone called King Steve used Farah Fawcett hairspray? The regulars were permanent fixtures on the bar stools, coffee stains on the counter in front of them, stolen sugar packets in their pockets, frowns on their faces.

The staff didn’t want to be there, the owner refused to replace the flickering lights and the cook had a bad attitude and liked to communicate with heavy sighs and eye rolls. But he made a mean grilled cheese. The walk in freezer was reserved for the pitiful weekly deliveries and breakdowns, a stolen kiss or two. Or three, or four. But no one liked to tackle the clogged sink and god forbid anyone change the TV channel— Mr Creel always had something to say about it.

—————

Honestly, Hawkins wasn’t your first choice when you decided to move to a smaller place. The idea of a big city was all fine and well until you lived a year in Chicago, the dream of a brownstone apartment quickly disappearing when you realised jobs were hard to come by and finding friends was even harder. Living alone wasn’t all that fun, especially when your landlord hinted at sexual favours to justify late payments and he didn’t care to fix the leaking radiator in your bedroom. The nights were never quiet and the city hardly slept, but instead of neon lights and late night bodega runs, you lay awake on the broken spring in your bed and flinched at the sound of backfiring cars and people arguing on the street below.

It was lonely, living somewhere so big and busy and always eating dinner by yourself. So you sold the old car you didn’t really use and cried enough that your landlord eventually gave in and ripped up your lease that still had four months to go. Packing your stuff was an easy enough job, hardly enough belongings to fill the duffel bag you’d dragged with you. You dug into the back of your freezer for the wad of cash your grandma gave you, threw it into the bag and grabbed your greyhound ticket and decided you’d get off the bus when the skyline turned a little more green. When the buildings shrunk, when the smog lifted and when wildflowers sprouted from between the cracks in the sidewalk.

So you rolled into Hawkins before the day broke, way before the sun crept up over the quarry, before the small town came alive. The apartment you’d found was the same tiny size as the one you’d had in Chicago but it was cleaner and the carpet was new. Nothing leaked. Nothing smelled weird. The parking lot was filled with cars and none of them had bullet holes in the side, your trash can wasn’t on fire and god, god, the first neighbour you saw - an elderly woman who was walking with a yorkie on a leash - smiled at you.

She smiled at you.

So despite the lack of twenty four hour stores and pizza parlours, Hawkins was already looking up. There wasn’t much on the Main Street, a library, a tiny bakery run by a couple who offered you a free croissant as a welcome to town gift. There was an outdoor pool with sun bleached bunting across its chain link fence, an arcade next to a video store, a high school that was derelict due to the summer months. The larger houses across from the park were lined with cherry trees, neat lawns with white mailboxes and flowers under the windows and suddenly Hawkins was a million miles away from Chicago and the buzz of traffic and car horns.

The librarian let you print out some resumes the day after you’d settled in, and you found your way around town by asking kind strangers, buying a coffee and a breakfast sandwich in exchange for directions out of your neighbourhood. It was easy to stroll along the sidewalk with an iced latte and your headphones around your neck, blue skies above you and the sound of sprinklers in their yards, breathing in air that didn’t smell like diesel. You found a man by a rundown garage, white haired and tired looking, mechanic scrubs tied around his waist as he smoked a cigarette.

You took a deep breath, and then another one, smiling politely - warily - as you approached. The man lifted a brow at you, a little suspicious, but he held the burning stub away from you, smoke billowing in the opposite direction.

“You lost, kid?”

You were. Just a little.

“I’m looking for Jim’s, uh,” you glanced down at the pink flyer that had been pinned on the library's notice board. “Jim’s Midnight Grill? I got told it was out this way, but—”

You looked around, noting that there wasn’t much out this way. The busiest part of Hawkins was behind you, tidy sidewalks giving way to long roads out of town, a lone bus stop by the garage, a farm in the distance across the street. You squinted against the sun and shrugged.

“You wanna keep going for ‘nother mile or so, it’s just before the town sign,” the man pointed further out where the cornfields were overgrown and the sun faded billboard told everyone ‘thanks for visiting Hawkins!’ You weren’t sure the bus ran that far out. “Jim should be there, but if he’s not, jus’ ask for Eddie, he’ll sort you out.”

“Eddie,” you nodded, peering into the distance. You couldn’t see another building, but this man didn’t seem like he was lying. “Right, okay. Just keep to the road?”

The man nodded and he cracked a smile, small but soft. He stubbed out the end of his cigarette and gestured to an old pick up that looked like it had seen better days. “You needin’ a ride?”

The urge to say yes was strong, especially after walking all the way from your apartment as the heat soared. It snuck up on you like a slow roll, going from pleasant to warm to too hot, far too quickly. Beads of sweat clung to your skin underneath your sundress but you shook your head, shyness crawling up the back of your neck. Accepting a ride from a stranger didn’t seem the wisest idea, no matter how kind he seemed.

“It’s okay,” you told him. “Thank you, though. I appreciate the help.”

The man smiled again, a little bigger this time, crows feet crinkling, the sunlight catching the white of his five o’clock shadow. “That’s alright, kid. Jus’ tell ‘em Wayne sent you, yeah? Follow the road, you’ll see Forest Hills - the trailer park - keep going a lil’ ways and it’s right across the road.”

It turned out Wayne was right.

You kept walking, the heat soaring, the fields on either side of you growing taller but you bit back a smile at the sight of the wildflowers that snuck through the cracks in the concrete. Eventually they gave way to a trailer park, just as Wayne side, a quaint place that hummed with generators and had lines of laundry between each mobile home. Across the road sat a sandy lot, a diner in the middle, a neon sign letting passer-bys know they’d arrived at Jim’s Midnight Grill. Except the ‘r’ was loose, hanging from its wire and buzzing blue and purple.

Cats patrolled along the roadside, going from trailer doorsteps to the back alley of the diner, hoping and waiting for a free meal that they all knew would eventually come. You stopped to pet an orange kitten, a little scruffy looking thing but cute all the same, your CV clutched in one hand as you peered suspiciously at the front of the restaurant. It looked too quiet, like it wasn’t open yet. But there was a black van parked along the side of the building and some steam leaked from a vent on the roof, so you opened the front door.

The bell jingled but the patrons at the dining bar who sat on their stools didn’t move, didn’t turn to look. The place was nearly empty, some people nursing a coffee, some staring blankly at the buzzing television screen that was mounted in the corner. No one stood at the host desk, the menus stacked messily, the phone off the hook. In fact, there wasn’t a server to be seen as you made your way to the counter. You grimaced as you leaned on the surface, elbows sticky, avoiding spilled coffee the best you could. You waited, resume still in your hand, patience on your features.

No one came.

So you rang the bell that was on the bar top for the very purpose of gaining attention, but the man beside you glared at the noise. Still, no one came. The fans overhead squeaked and whirred, the TV fizzed with bad signal and from somewhere behind the open serving hatch, you heard the clatter of pots and pans. You tried to crane your neck to see through the window, steam and smoke billowing from it, the slight shadow of maybe a person moving through it.

The person swore, dropped a skillet and swore again.

You leaned in further, elbows on spilled salt grains and drops of ketchup, trying to gain a better view into the kitchen from the bar top. “Hey, ‘scuse me? Can I— can someone—”

You huffed as the figure moved out of sight, falling back onto the stool that squeaked and the man next to you snorted into his coffee cup. You frowned and took further action, sundress falling back around your thighs as you hopped off the chair and made your way to the side of the counter that lifted up. No one paid you any mind, no one at all, but you still hesitated before ducking under the bar and hovering by the hatch. You could smell garlic and sage and something a little sweet now you were closer, the scents of the kitchen winning over the stale coffee, cigarette smoke and engine oil that clung to the patrons clothes behind you.

You peered into the kitchen, your paperwork still clutched to your chest. It wasn’t much cooler in here than it was outside, the AC unit broken and the fans working overtime to combat the heat. The kitchen seemed empty now, a stovetop still on despite no one to supervise it, flames licking high up the sides of a steel pot, big enough for you to fit both feet in. There was something inside bubbling, foam rising to the top and chopped courgette and red onions sat on the workbench beside it, abandoned. A radio played, staticky and fuzzy, an old sixties tune floating out to mix with the smoke.

“Come a little bit closer, you’re my kind of man. So big and so strong, come a little bit closer, I’m all alone.”

“H-hello?” You cleared your throat and braced yourself to speak a little louder. Stronger. Braver. “Hello?”

No one answered. In fact, it seemed like the entire diner was run by ghosts, no waiting staff, hosts or cooks to be seen. Maybe you’d imagined the silhouette in the smoke, maybe the heat was finally getting to you.

“No customers back here, what d’you think you’re doin’?”

You startled, jumping back a little only to knock an elbow into a half filled coffee pot, the brown liquid thankfully lukewarm but it still spilled across the countertop, soaking into stray packets of sugar and scattered napkins.

“Oh, fuck, uh—” you grabbed at whatever dry napkins were left, hurriedly mopping up the spill before it dripped to the floor. Old coffee dotted the red and cream tiles, into the gaps between your sandals. You grimaced and looked up, only half paying attention. “Shit, I’m really sorry, I just— there was no one there and—”

You stopped, swallowing hard, cheeks hot, eyes wide. The person in front of you was half hidden behind the serving hatch, but he was scowling through the window with a ladle in his hand. Big brown eyes, unnervingly expressive and dark hair to match, unruly looking curls that were pulled back with an elastic band in a bun that wouldn’t have passed a health inspection.

A boy, unfairly pretty, and annoyed looking with tattoos peeking out from his chef whites, a black paisley printed bandana knotted around his neck. There was a furrow between his brow, lines etched there so deep that it made you think they were a permanent fixture on his handsome face.

“—no customers behind the cash desk, sweetheart, you look bright enough to understand that.”

Your mouth fell open, a burn creeping across your cheeks. Annoyance settled in your chest but you realised you weren’t quite brave enough to do anything about it. So you lifted your resume and slapped it on the hot steel ledge that separated the kitchen from the coffee bar. “No one’s working,” you tried to explain, gesturing with one hand to the empty diner behind you. “I rang the bell—”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” The boy scoffed, raising a tattooed forearm to wipe away the sheer layer of sweat from his brow. “Havin’ a spa day? Shit, no one rings the damn bell, don’t you know that?”

You scrambled for a response, the burn on your face growing hotter, an awful clawing feeling coming across your chest. You swallowed, your throat tight, but you pointed at your CV once more. “I’m here for the job opening. I need to speak to Jim? About the kitchen porter role?”

The stranger laughed, a breathy thing that you didn’t think was supposed to come across as mean as it did, but it stung all the same. You shrunk a little, a hardly seen thing as the boy turned his head to check on whatever was bubbling in the big pot. “Look, sweetheart, I don’t wanna be a dick about it, but uh, I don’t think you’re cut out for the kitchen - sorry.” He turned back to you, a slightly more apologetic look on his face instead of the frown. “You understand, right?”

You were speechless, just for a second. Blinking away the confusion, you made noise of protest as the boy started to move away. Your hand touched his bicep and he swivelled back, scowling once more. You snatched your hand away, glancing at your fingertips as if the ink from his tattoos would have stained them black.

“Sorry— it’s just, I, I need a job.” You swallowed, hoping none of the customers could hear your desperate plea. “I just moved into town and honestly, I’ll take anything, like anything. I’m supposed to talk to Jim— or Eddie?”

The boy seemed to mull over your words for a second or two, a passing of sympathy or something just as kind coming over his features. He sighed and shrugged, turning away to stir the pot before it boiled over and he shouted at you through the smoke and steam. Not meanly, just enough for his voice to be heard over the music, the hissing of the stove, the hum of the freezer. “I dunno where Jim is, sorry.”

You deflated, sliding your stack of papers off of the ledge and back to your chest. You tried not to appear too frustrated as you asked, “what about Eddie? Someone - a guy, at the garage - he told me to ask for Eddie.”

The ladle clanged against the pot, some soup - or maybe stew - spilling out the sides. The boy frowned at the mess, dragging a rag over the spots before he glanced up at you. You tried to smile, tried to tamp down the watery doe eyes you knew you couldn’t help but have on show, but you felt desperate. Leaving Chicago with nothing more than the bag on your back and no plans was suddenly seeming like an awful idea.

“Sorry,” the stranger said again. “I dunno an Eddie.”

—————

Sitting in a sticky leather booth in the corner of Jim’s Midnight Grill for another hour turned out to be worth it.

Just before two o’clock, a man walked in, greeting the same customers who were still nursing their coffees with a muttered ‘hello,’ a familiar thing that everyone grunted back at. He was a tall man, broad shouldered with a moustache and a shaved head that was covered with a battered wide brimmed hat. He looked more cowboy than business owner, checked shirt dirt covered boots and all, but you heard someone call him Jim and you were up and running after him.

Your sneakers stuck to the linoleum tiles, the ‘shtick shtick shtick’ of your soles pattering between the aisles of empty tables until you caught up with the man just before he disappeared into the kitchen. He raised his brows at your sudden appearance at his elbow, wide eyed and hopeful as you clutched the same resume you’d tried to hand the cook, the pieces of paper stained with coffee now.

The man lifted his chin to a small table before you could speak, gesturing to two chairs by the window. You startled, wondering what was happening as he pulled out a seat and pointed at you to sit in the other one.

“You’re new, right?” The man - Jim - fumbled with a packet of cigarettes, most of them crushed and bent, but he found a good one to lift to his lips. He lit it and blew smoke upwards, staining the already yellowing ceiling. “Here, in town?”

You nodded, unsure how he knew that. You guessed that news travelled fast in a place as small as Hawkins, so you decided to elaborate for the sake of talking. “Uh, yeah. From Chicago. I’m inquiring about the, um, the porter job?”

“What’s your name?” Jim leaned forward in his chair and poked gently at your forearms. “You don’t got a lot of scars, you done soft jobs? No kitchen stuff before?”

The AC unit kicked in and rattled a vent above you as you stared at the man, trying to work out what he meant. Stammering, you told him your name and passed over a resume, pointing out your last few jobs, doing your best to try and make them sound more professional than they actually were.

Librarian's assistant.

Barista. For two weeks.

Cashier at a knock off Chuck E. Cheese.

“I guess they’re what you could call, uh,” you squinted Jim, floundering for the word he’d used, “soft jobs. But I’ve got a scar on my knee from pulling a kid out of the ball pit. He’d come straight from little league, he still had his spikes on and there was a considerable amount of blood even th—”

Jim stopped your spiel by jamming a thumb back towards the kitchen hatch. You could still see the boy there, pretty and scowling all the same, a dark curl falling from his hair band to fall over his cheek. You watched him blow it away and flip something in a skillet, the sizzle of it just heard over the music, the bad TV in the corner of the bar.

“You ever worked a kitchen?”

You shook your head, stomach sinking. ‘Fake it til’ you make it,’ failed you once before, and the owner of the coffee shop in Lincoln Park quickly realised you were wasting both your times when she discovered you didn’t know the difference between a mocha and a latte. “No, sir.”

“Our line cook is real particular ‘bout who we put in his kitchen with him,” Jim pointed to the boy, who’d now been joined by someone else. Another male, one with even longer hair, sleek and dark and they seemed to be arguing over blocks of cheese. “Now I don’t think it’s a good idea to throw you in there—”

Dread bubbled in your stomach. If you didn’t manage to land this job, you weren’t sure where else to look. A small town brought on few opportunities, and you’d already exhausted most of the businesses on Main Street. “Sir, please, I—”

“—but there is a waitressing gig available.” Jim frowned as he tried to remember the details. “Full time, forty odd hours if you don’t mind doing lates.”

“Yes!” You blurted out the answer too loud, loud enough for the customers to turn away from the TV screen for a second or two. The boys in the kitchen peered out the hatch, one curious, one annoyed. “Yes, sorry, yes. I’ll take it, thank you.”

Jim nodded and stubbed out the amber end of his cigarette in an ashtray beside the sauce bottles. “Easy enough job, minimum wage, you keep any tips you make.” He listed off each point on his fingers. “You start tomorrow.”

You could only nod back, eager and grateful. “Of course, yeah, sure. Uh— do I need—?”

Jim waved you off, already standing as he lit up another cigarette. “Just come by for eight, Eddie’ll sort you out with a uniform, locker, that kinda stuff.”

You frowned, confused. Looking around the quiet diner, you wondered if there was someone you hadn’t noticed before, but the number of visible staff members remained the same. The two boys in the kitchen, the pretty cool who you’d spoken to back at the stove, tasting its contents with a teaspoon.

“Uh,” you coughed awkwardly, feeling stupid. “I thought— I thought there wasn’t an Eddie who worked here?” You pointed warily to the boy with the messy curls, the black tattoos across his exposed forearms, he was staring at you, like he knew you were talking about him. He was scowling. “He said there wasn’t.”

The noise and heat of the diner and the summer outside didn’t do anything to diminish the embarrassment you felt at Jim’s next words. His gaze followed to where you were pointing and snorted. “Kid, that is Eddie.”

[the-record]

kissing lessons: 1

synopsis: ellie’s a year older and the smartest girl you know. such a shame she can’t stick around.

song: kissing lessons - lucy dacus

pairing: young!ellie x young!reader

warnings: none????

a/n: this was so fun to write and pt 2 will be out, this lowkey just sets up the next part(s?) also barely proofread, im lazy

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

“mom, can i go meet ellie?”

“did you finish your dinner?”

you hummed, setting the dirty plate in the sink beside her. “please? i did my homework too. and fed the dog!” she stopped washing dishes and looked to you. “pretty please? with a cherry on top?”

she sighed and rinsed a plate. “alright. but you come right home when the street lights turn on. okay?” you hugged her waist and slipped on shoes before running out the door.

she was waiting for you standing on the seat of a swing. “that looks dangerous!” you called as you ran over.

she turned back, hopping down when she was it was you and sitting properly. “says who?” you rolled your eyes and set at the swing beside her. “did you see mr. anderson today?”

you giggled and nodded. “i feel bad for abby, must be kinda embarrassing to have your dad as principal.” ellie nodded in agreement, humming a tune.

“i dont like abby.” you cocked your head at her, a silent question in your eyes. “she’s such a show off in p.e. and she gets special treatment because of her dad. so unfair.”

you kicked off, sending the swing into motion. “i think she’s smart. and pretty.”

“yea…” ellie joined you, pumping her legs back and forth to get higher. “my uncle’s in town.”

“your uncle?” she nodded, looking forward at the tree line. you thought for a moment before speaking. “have you ever even met him before? what’s he like? is he like mr. miller?”

she smiled softly. “he said to stop calling him mr. miller. said it makes him feel old.”

“he is old!” you both laughed, still flying high in the air.

ellie stopped kicking, though you didnt notice, very slowly losing air. “uncle tommy is nice i guess. his wife scares me a little.” she sighed before turning to you. “i didnt see you at recess, where were you?”

your feet grazed the ground as you came to a stop. “cole asked to play tag.”

“but you hate tag,” ellie said, getting off to stand in front of you. “did you play tag with him?”

you shrugged before nodding. “my mom said i should. says he likes me.” you kicked at the ground, staring at the wood chips moving. “boys chase girls they like.”

ellie huffed and crossed her arms. “but he’s mean, he teases you. all the time!”

“boys are mean to girls they like too.”

“that makes no sense.” she flopped to the ground, arms still crossed across her chest.

you got off the swing, sitting in front of her. “what do boys like?”

“i dont know… kissing i guess.” she averted her gaze as she said it, choosing the ground to focus on.

you were taken aback. kissing? only old people did that, you thought. how do you even kiss? what if he tried to kiss you, and you didnt know how? “do you know how to?”

“what? how to kiss?” you nodded shyly, meeting her eyes. “yeah. i could teach you tomorrow, after school. joel and tommy are going out.” you nodded again. “okay. we’ll walk to my place from the bus stop then.”

the lights flickered on, signaling your time to leave. “i better get going.”

ellie nodded in agreement, getting up and holding out a hand to you. she pulled you in a hug before pushing you towards your house and walking backwards to her own. “ill see you tomorrow!”

you smiled and waved as you both ran home, butterflies fluttering.

“who is this ellie character?” your mom looked to you in the rearview mirror as she asked.

you smiled, sitting up to tell her. “my friend. she’s a year older than me, but she lives across the street. mr. millers daughter.” your mom hummed as you continued. “she’s really funny and nice. im going over to her house after school today.”

“and mr. miller doesnt mind?” she asked as she pulled into the drop off line.

“no ma’am.”

she parked and turned around, a smile on your face. “alright then. you have a good day, and please be good at the millers.” you nodded grabbing your backpack.

the day dragged as you waited for the bell to dismiss you. when it finally did, you met ellie by the bus, clambering on together.

“i found lip gloss in sarah’s room. she told me i could have it because she didnt use it anymore.” ellie smiled as she told you the plan.

“i wish i had a big sister. sarah is so cool.” you both nodded before moving on to some gossip you’d heard that day.

you entered ellies house hand in hand and she pulled you to her room. giggling as you sat the on the bed, ellie grabbed the gloss from her nightstand and sat in front of you. you tried to keep a straight face as she put it on you, and she tried to when you did the same.

“okay, now do this.” she puckered her lips as you giggled. “c’mon…” you nodded and copied her. “okay. now we lean in and… close our eyes!” you felt nervous as she sat up straight. “ready?”

you both leaned in without a second thought, your lips barely touching before you both pulled away giggling. “this is so weird.” ellie agreed with you, nodding and smiling.

“good weird.”

you ‘practiced’ a couple more times and fell beside each other on her bed.

“was that your first kiss?” you wondered aloud.

she hummed, turning to look at you. “yea. was it yours?”

“yea.”

“what do you mean you’re moving?”

you jumped up from the bed when ellie gave you her big news. how could she be moving? she couldnt leave you.

“dad says he wants to be closer to uncle tommy. apparently he and maria are… ‘in the family way’ or whatever.” she picked at her cuticles, pressing down on her thumb when it began to bleed.

you groaned and crossed your arms. “thats so unfair!”

ellie’s eyes teared up and you sat down beside her, leaning your head on her shoulder. “im gonna miss you.” you whispered. “a lot.”

“me too.”

you had to have been mistaken. ellie had moved away so long ago, there was no way she was back. there was always new people filtering in and out of your town, must’ve been one of them.

but mr. miller was harder to excuse.

“ellie, isn’t that your old friend?”

the butterflies crept back in as she turned around, her eyes locking with yours.

“damn. you grew up.”

[t13shoots]

[2knightt]

please write something, anything I’m thirsty pretty please with a cherry on top 😋

↳treat me like a fool!₊˚✧

──IN WHICH, the gang falls head over heels inlove!。✦

||✰ — the gang, separately

Dallas Winston ;

dally thought you were gorgeous.

you were sitting across at buck’s, talking to someone who could only assume is your friend.

you were laughing, giggling, talking, in such a way that dallas was captivated.

he couldn’t even pay attention to two-bit tellin’ him one of him lousy jokes.

“and i tell ‘er—hey! are you even listenin’ to me, dal?!”

“what?”

“what’re you even looking a—”

two-bit may not be smart, but he sure as hell can put two and two together.

he followed dallas’s eyes, only to see you.

two-bit got a goofy grin on his face and turned to face dallas.

“go talk to her!”

dallas rolled his eyes in annoyance.

‘go talk to her,’ he doesn’t get it—you’re too pretty for a grease like him.

“no, man.”

two-bit laughed like it was funny.

he lightly hit dallas’s arm, he knew he could talk to you, but it was like he was nervous.

and, dallas was nervous.

but he couldn’t let his nerves get the best of him. he just can’t, he’s better than that.

dallas sighed, dreading what he was about to do.

he knew it was stupid, but he couldn’t let the opportunity pass.

he walked towards you, putting on a confident aura to make him seem tuff.

“hey.”

“oh-hi!”

jesus, even your voice was pretty.

if we’re being honest here, dallas had to recollect himself after you spoke.

“saw you ‘cross the bar n’ wondered if i could, get your name?”

“that’s it?”

“yea, why? got a problem?”

“y/n.”

you answered his previous question, yet not his most recent one.

it was like you wanted to keep him guessing, and he liked that.

dallas winston actually liked y/n.

Johnny Cade ;

you’ve known dallas winston for years.

good friends, obviously.

the two of you were walking down the street to nowhere in particular.

the both of you like to make it up as you go.

you were telling him about some gossip as he pretended to listen, until he shouted out some guys name.

“johnny!? is that you?!”

you scoffed and rolled your eyes.

if he wanted to hang out with someone else, he could’ve just said.

the boy that you suppose is johnny, perked up and started walking towards you two.

the both of you stopped walking to see johnny, even though you had zero clue on who he is.

dallas is a very private man when it comes to his other friends.

when johnny got up to you guys, dallas threw his arm around his neck, puttin’ him in a headlock.

he was scolding the poor kid about something even you couldn’t understand.

when he was done, johnny was rubbing his head in annoyance.

his eyes almost lit up at the sight on ya.

johnny thought you were an angel.

you were almost glowing in the sunlight, your hair framed your face perfectly, your eyes, lips, nose, everything was gorgeous.

“uh, who’s she?”

he asked, turning to dallas.

“y/n, say hi to johnny. be a good girl, eh?”

“oh shut up, dal! but uh—hi johnny. i’m y/n.”

your voice was like honey to johnny, he was almost stunned.

you felt a little creeped out with his stares so, you thought you’d just walk back home.

you waved to the boys and turned around to start walking.

dallas looked in johnny’s direction with the type of look that johnny didn’t like.

“your creepy staring scared ‘er off.”

“what? i wasn’t staring, bug off man.”

was he? oh god..that’s not a good first impression.

especially for such a beautiful person like you!

god, what a fool he was.

Ponyboy Curtis ;

pony saw you ‘round school a few times, always thought you were really cute but he never got a real good look at you.

but luckily, you had to ask ‘em a question.

“hey! you’re ponyboy, right?”

you’re even prettier up close, jeez.

no way a guy like him, had a chance with a girl like you.

your smile was more attractive than he was, your voice was like the heavens above were calling for him, everything about you was just…better than him.

but he put on the bravest smile he could, and nodded his head.

“good, be pretty embarrassing if i was talkin’ to the wrong guy.”

you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

ponyboy lightly chuckled, never thought you’d get so comfortable around him before.

“well uhm—i was just wonderin’ if you knew my friend, micheal?”

yeah, he knew micheal.

he knew what you were gonna ask.

he knew there was a rumor going around about you guys dating.

he just, didn’t get why you’re asking him out of all people.

“yeah, why?”

“okay, cool! well, if he tells you we’re dating, ignore him. please?”

“definitely.”

you smiled, genuinely this time.

your smile almost made ‘em faint.

you were just so cute, too cute for anyone in this bum city.

you thanked ponyboy for his time and for being understanding, and rushed out.

he just stood there, trying to process that you talked to him.

he was red, his ears were red, and his cheeks were red.

he looked like a loser.

but now, he was a loser with an angel knowing about his existence.

so, it’s a win.

Sodapop Curtis ;

you just got hired at the DX to be a cashier.

you needed the money, just in general.

your boss had told sodapop he wasn’t needed at the cash register, and he didn’t know why.

he got that they got a new employee but, being the cashier was more his job!

thought he’d go check you out, go see if your even fit for the DX!

you were just sitting there, your chin resting on your palm, waiting for anyone to walk through the doors to buy something.

you heard the back door open but didn’t really pay attention to it. you were sorta just, staring off into space.

sodapop walked in, and saw you just sittin’ there!

if he was working the register, he sure wouldn’t have just been sitting there!

he walked around the counter to talk to you, face to face! give ya a good scarin’.

at least, he thought that’s what he was gonna do.

when he saw you for the first time, he swore he almost got weak in the knees.

you just looked up at him, not bothering to move your head or nothin’.

even though you looked almost mad, you were still drop dead gorgeous.

the sun hit your face, just right.

your lashes, your eyes, the shine in ‘em almost made sodapop apologize for annoying you and run away.

in a good way, though.

“whatchu want? who even are ya?”

“nothin’! just wanted to say hi to my new co-worker is all. i’m sodapop curtis! what’s your name?”

he talks an awful lot this early in the morning.

but who are you to complain? less talking for you.

“y/n.”

soda smiled, even your name was beautiful.

everything about you was.

you were perfect.

Darry Curtis ;

you knew darry early on in life, around middle school..maybe?

you couldn’t really pinpoint it.

you stopped talking because you moved up north.

you did miss him, but you never really thought an awful lot about it. even when you were going back to tusla.

you were at the store for nothing in particular, it was more like something to pass the time.

you were going aisle by aisle, finding nothing.

until you went down one aisle, there was one real tall guy looking at some soup.

you thought he looked familiar, but you couldn’t tell from so far away.

you walked down the aisle and stopped right beside him, pretending to be looking at soup.

the man looked confused, but he was distracted so you could get a good look.

you saw his side profile and it all finally clicked.

“holy shit, darry?!”

you basically shouted, with a huge stupid grin.

darry looked scared and confused at the fact that someone knew his name, but when he turned to face you he looked more surprised than anything.

“y/n?!”

darry thought you were pretty before but, jesus. how did you get even prettier?

your smile was wider than before, your eyes looked happier, and you were just…gorgeous overall.

“well shit—how’re you? how’s your brothers?”

“they’re good. soda dropped out though, but ponyboy’s doin’ good in school.”

“that sucks about soda, ‘m sorry. but uh—i gotta go, sorry! hey, how ‘bout we catch up tomorrow?”

darry was shocked you’d even wanna hang out with him.

you just seemed so—high class now.

but, who was he to turn down a goddess?

he agreed and the two of you set a time and waved goodbye.

for the rest of the day, darry had this stupid smile on his face.

Steve Randle ;

you guys had met through a mutual friend.

danny had wanted to hang out with two of his friend groups at the same time.

you were in group A while steve was in group B.

everyone was partying, but that wasn’t really your thing.

you were off to the side, people watching.

some guy grumbled and stood next to you, almost oblivious to you.

he looked pretty mad so you thought you’d ry n lighten the mood.

somehow.

“so much for a party, huh?”

you tried to joke, looking up at the man.

he looked down at you, stunned.

you didn’t know why, he looked like he was judging you the way he looked you up n down.

steve was just shocked a girl like you would talk to him.

too pretty for him, way too pretty.

even in this dimly lit room, he can see how gorgeous you were.

your smile was so pretty, so gorgeous.

then steve realized he must look like a freak, staring.

he chuckled, giving you a halfassed answer.

“yeah right. was told this was gonna be fun, might as well leave.”

“was just about to do that. no point in stayin’ when all my friends are so drunk they can’t even remember their own names.”

“can i get your name at least?”

he asked, raising an eyebrow.

he must’ve thought that was smooth.

you chuckled at his question,

“y/n.”

“i’m steve, it’s nice to meet you, pretty lady.”

Two-bit Matthews ;

“woah! hey pretty lady!”

you heard some guy shout at you from behind you.

you sighed, but kept on walking.

when the strange dude caught up to you, he almost tripped.

you laughed at his failed attempt, and two-bit could’ve sworn he heard wedding bells right there!

“what d’ya want?”

“can i not want to talk to you?”

“nah.”

you answered, grinning at his disappointed face.

“aw, c’mon! a man deserves something for his efforts!”

“what efforts?”

the man went silent, and thought for a moment before answering,

“…i ran.”

you burst out laughing again.

and two-bit almost pulled out a ring.

you were like a goddess on earth, had the most gorgeous laugh, and understood his humour?

take him away.

“well? can i get ya number, pretty lady?”

“nah.”

you said, walking away.

the man stood there, stunned, watching you walk away before snapping out of it to shout at you.

“AT LEAST TELL ME YOUR NAME!! I’M TWO-BIT!”

“Y/N!”

and now it’s two-bits mission to get y/ns number.

—can you tell i gave up?

— ALSO MY OTHER FIC WONT UPLOAD. UGH.

taglist ;

@diorgirl444 @typereader

[konigbabe]

like real people do

Pairing: ID!Leon Kennedy x fem!teacher!reader | single dad AU

Word count: 5.8k

Tags/warnings: no y/n; fluff; eventual smut; p-in-v; slice of life; gendered female reader; gendered female anatomy; original kid Kennedy character

Summary: He's the sun, and you're the earth, drawn into his orbit; yet, he's your student's father. Handsome. Confident. Alluring. But off limits–at least he should be.

a/n: Inspired by @yeyinde’s ask. Also, canon ID!Leon is around 29 but Leon in this '"universe" is aged up to be in his 30s (age won't be specified but I imagine him to be in his mid-to-late 30s).

divider by @benkeibear [source]

series masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

The voice in your head keeps telling you to be professional, the thought of spending an evening with this man hard to resist; his confident, easy-going demeanor, the way he doesn’t give up easily– “So? It’s just dinner.”

The innocence of children always manages to brighten up even the darkest of days, their smiles and eagerness to learn contagious; filling your heart with positivity. It's a feeling that's hard to come by as an adult; life's challenges tend to chip away at your soul and slowly rob you of that childhood magic.

As the clock strikes five and your shift comes to an end, the school falls into an eerie silence. A lingering sense of relief washes over you when leaving the building; you've done your part in shaping young minds.

Walking out the front door, the warmth of the sun caresses your skin, its rays sliding around your bare arms like silk.

Twisting the key in the lock, your eyes catch a glimpse of slight movement from the corner of your vision. Turning your head, you see a little girl perched on the concrete steps below, her delicate features illuminated by the warm glow of the sun.

Her hair, a cascade of light brown waves, frames her chubby cheeks and the crown of her head is adorned with blonde highlights that shimmer like golden threads.

She turns to you when you address her, slowly stepping down to her level.

"What are you still doing here," you sit down, her small backpack creating a wall between your bodies.

As you sit side by side with the little girl, basking in the comforting embrace of the sunlight, she kicks her legs up; eyes up front, both of you watch the cars pass by on the street.

The Washington Spring air’s filled with the sweet scent of blooming cherry blossoms, carried on a gentle breeze that rustles through the trees. The distant sounds of children playing in a nearby park mingle with the honking of cars and the chirping of birds, creating a symphony of noise that signifies the arrival of spring in the bustling city.

"Waiting for daddy," she says with a hint of excitement in her voice.

The little girl looks up at you, her eyes full of wonder and innocence. You can't help but wonder about the mysterious Mr Kennedy and his absence; an enigma surrounding his name.

Like a forgotten toy left on the shelf, the girl's father remains absent from any involvement in her education. Despite several months passing since her admission to your class, there has been no sign of him. No parent-teacher meetings, no Father's Day celebration, nothing.

An enigma.

"Speaking of," your voice trails off for a moment, "How’s your daddy doing?" you question her. You shouldn’t; it goes beyond your job description to put a kid in situations like these. But still–

Her eyes, a vivid shade of cerulean, sparkle like sunlit water as she gazes at you; smile wide upon the mention of her father, the young kid toys with the straps on her bag.

"He’s busy."

A pang of understanding pinches your heart.

–his presence (or rather the absurd lack of it) keeps gnawing at your brain.

"He fights monsters," the girl adds after a moment of silence; her tone more serious. It's as if she's describing a mythical hero, fighting off beasts in some far-off land.

"He seems to be busy quite a lot," you smile to ease the topic; well aware that the girl, as bright as she is, surely catches on as you keep asking the same question every week, "is your mom coming to the parent–teacher meeting?"

The girl shakes her head before she speaks, "I don’t know my mom."

Oh.

You know you shouldn’t push more; well aware of the unprofessionalism you’re displaying.

"The woman who picks you up–"

"–aunt Claire," the kid corrects you, "I’m sorry for interrupting, miss teacher."

You smile, trying to put her at ease. It's clear that she's been brought up with good manners.

Lost in how to answer her, you almost don't hear the sound of a car approaching. The girl jumps up, her face alight with excitement. A low rumble reverberates through the air as a sleek black SUV glides up to the curb, its shiny exterior reflecting the warm rays of the sun.

The tinted windows obscure the view inside the car, adding an air of mystery to the vehicle. As the car comes to a stop, the quiet hum of the engine fades to a gentle purr, and the driver's door swings open.

The girl grabs her backpack at the same time a man steps out of the car; you’re able to only see the light brown hair decorating his head.

"Daddy," the girl yelps in excitement. You stand up, dusting the invisible dust from your jeans.

He stands tall, his broad shoulders stretching the fabric of the crisp white shirt, tucked tightly into the blue dress pants. A single button undone on his collar, revealing the curve of his clavicles. The sun glints off his aviator sunglasses, hiding his eyes from view. He approaches the little girl with a warm smile as she runs into her father, you presume; standing still, watching the situation unfold before your eyes.

Lowering himself to her level, he extends his arms, inviting her in. She eagerly accepts, wrapping her little arms around his neck in a welcoming embrace.

"Hey there, pup," you manage to hear his voice; low and soft. Gentle. "Sorry I’m late; got held up by paperwork. Y’know the drill."

The kid chuckles before pulling away, a sound so pure and innocent it brings a smile to your face.

Standing back up, his face turns towards you. You're struck by his imposing presence, the way he commands attention without even trying. His chiseled jawline is dusted with a light stubble, giving him an air of ruggedness. He moves with confidence towards you, one hand enclosed with his daughter’s.

The girl tugs at the sleeve of his shirt, introducing you before he even reaches your standing point–to which he smiles gently.

"Well, nice to meet you," his hand extended in greeting, "I’m Leon Kennedy. Her dad," he nods towards the girl.

"Mr Kennedy," you murmur, taking his hand in yours; noting the callouses on his palm.

As your eyes travel up his arm, they catch sight of a fresh bandage peeking out from under his slightly rolled up sleeve. But it's not until you look up at his face that you see the true extent of his weariness. Small scratches mark his jaw, subtle hues of purple and yellow decorate his cheekbone like a watercolor painting.

It’s clear that he's been through a rough patch. Makes you wander back to the girl’s words–

("He fights monsters.")

–and maybe he does. In some twisted sense.

"I actually wanted to speak with you," you release his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin lingering on your fingertips., "are you free next Tuesday? Around one PM?"

"Am I in trouble," he chuckles; the stretch of his lips exposing a slight scar on his lower lip.

The girl tilts her head, eyes studying you intently. You can't help but notice the slight beauty marks across her neck, the softness of her features, the way she looks up at her father with curiosity.

"Not really; I just need to discuss some matters with you."

"Okay," he responds, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, yet he remains stoic. Posed. "Sure."

"I’ll see you then," you nod and take your leave, but not before stealing a few glances at his back as he turns away from you. It’s impossible not to notice how his broad shoulders strain against the fabric, or how his hair cascades over his forehead; tousled yet somehow perfectly in place.

The weekend flies by, the days blurring together until suddenly it's Tuesday.

Despite his daughter's reassurances from yesterday that he'll be here, the uncertainty of whether he'll actually show up still grips you tightly.

A knock on the open door disturbs your grading.

"Mr Kennedy," you remark upon his arrival. The pen falls onto the desk with a clunk; back straighten, you invite him to sit on the chair prepared for him beforehand.

He’s dressed more casual–the black, expensive looking leather jacket squeaks against the wooden chair as he sits down after a simple "Hello". The faint but distinct aroma of sharp, citrusy notes wafts from his collar; the refreshing and invigorating aroma that catches your attention before your eyes trail to the bandage on his wrist.

Clearly seeing the way your eyes subconsciously linger on the piece of medical tape, Leon puts his other hand over it, shielding your view. Silently focusing your attention back on his eyes; the same blue hues as his daughter’s.

Sitting before you, legs spread apart, the undeniable similarities between him and his daughter are glaringly apparent. The way he holds himself commands respect, his posture erect and confident.

"Mr Kennedy, there’s something I wanted to discuss with you in person."

Fingers interlocking as you lean on your elbows, his gaze following your every movement like a predator stalking its prey; almost as if he’s sizing you up. His eyes watchful.

"Okay," he responds casually, a hint of question behind the simple word.

You clear your throat before continuing. "Your daughter is a remarkable child," a small smile accompanying your words. "She's well-behaved, intelligent, and often surpasses her peers."

Leon nods, lips pressed together.

"Got that from her mother, probably," he remarks. Almost bites back. Jaw tightening.

Leaning back, your fingers drum a quick rhythm against your desk.

"But we’re not here to evaluate your daughter; but you, actually, Mr Kennedy."

Leon’s brows arch up, highlighting the soft surprise that flashes across his face. The subtle shift in his expression does not go unnoticed by you.

"Didn’t know I was being evaluated," his voice trails off.

You nod in acknowledgement, sensing the man's confusion.

"You’re aware of our school assemblies, right?"

His face remains stoic, so you continue.

"Father's Day, parent-teacher meetings, career days, sports day," you list a few, hoping to spark the idea in the man’s mind.

"So," he leans back against the chair, arms folded on his chest.

With an exhale, upon your failed attempt to make him take the hint, you resolve to explaining the school rules to him.

"Our school mandates that the child’s parent or legal guardian be present at at least three of those assemblies per school year. You haven’t been present on any of them, not even last year."

He lifts his chin slightly and raises his eyebrows, eyes fixed on you with a look that suggests he's waiting for more information or an explanation.

"There’s actually a policy within out school that allows teachers to prohibit the child from participating in certain activities or events if a parent is not present–"

"–you’re kidding," Leon interjects, his tone laced with disbelief.

Raising your hand, you stop him from continuing, "and your daughter is a great student, so I don't expect that to happen to her. But with your continuous absence, she's at risk of being excluded from certain activities."

"My job keeps me busy. And I don’t really have a say in it," Leon retorts.

Arms still folded across his chest, his brows furrow in frustration. Defence sets inside his flesh; jaw slightly twitching, his eyes bore into yours.

"Maybe her mother could–"

"–not an option," he stops you before you manage to finish the sentence.

You nod in understanding. Leaving forward, you hope to appeal to Leon’s sense of responsibility a little more.

"In that case; we’re having a sports day this Friday. If you could just show up to support your daughter, I could mark it as you being present."

Leon chuckles, his voice smooth. Looking out the nearby window, he stares into the field right next to the school for a moment, deep in thought. The sunlight filtering through the window casts a warm glow on his sharp features, highlighting the intensity in his eyes.

Silence passes before he speaks up, "Wouldn't a dinner suffice instead?"

You clear your throat and try to compose yourself, feeling your heartbeat pick up at the unexpected request. "That's not very appropriate, Mr Kennedy, " you say softly, attempting to hide the fluttering in your chest. "Let's see each other at the soccer match."

"Sure. I’ll see what I can do; is that all?" he asks, head turned to the side. You gaze upon the now exposed wound on his jawline, vaguely resembling a cat’s claw scratch. The bruise colors on his cheek faded over the past few days.

"Yes," you assure him.

"Y’know, this whole thing could’ve been an email."

You smile wryly, "Would you react to that email?"

Looking back at you, there’s a flicker of mischievous dancing in his eyes. Leon's gaze holds yours for a moment longer, and you find yourself drawn to the subtle crinkles at the corners of his eyes, evidence of his amusement.

"You got me there."

The sun blankets the field in gold, casting elongated shadows of the children as they scamper around in pursuit of the ball. It’s still quite early. The air’s crisp and fresh, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and; sound of excited cheers and shouts echo throughout the surrounding area.

It’s comforting. Soothing in a way.

With a group of teachers, you watch the little girl darting across the field, her movements resembling that of a graceful gazelle as she expertly maneuvers the ball. She weaves in and out of the other players, a look of determination etched on her youthful face.

A chorus of her name echoes across the field, drifting like a wispy trail of smoke. The other kids cheer her on as she makes her way towards the goal, her tiny frame seemingly defying the laws of physics with her quick and nimble movements.

A round of applause erupts when the ball meets the back of the net. You watch as the little girl’s teammates rush to congratulate her.

"And who is that," a woman’s voice tears your gaze away from the cheerful moment, hands stopping mid-clasp.

Curious, you look at her. The other teachers already gazing to your right. To the parking lot.

Leaning against the sleek car, its design demanding attention; even from further away, he exudes an air of quiet confidence that's impossible to ignore. Eyes covered by another set of sunglasses, the same leather jacket strains against his folded arms.

Mr Kennedy.

Leon Kennedy.

Something about him always seems to draw attention; to captivate anyone who catches a glimpse of him.

It’s odd. Uncanny–

You should know better than to think in such a way about your student’s father.

–and you wonder if it’s just you who feels that way.

As the group of teachers chatter, a voice pipes up, "Is he someone's father?"

"He has to be," the conversation carries on, "or he wouldn’t be here–"

"–or he’s a creep."

Turning to face the person who said it, you scoff at the teacher before speaking up.

"He’s her dad," You nod in the direction of the girl with a beaming smile on your face, as she energetically waves at Leon. His response, though polite, is less enthusiastic, evident by the restrained movement of his hand.

Escaping the gossip, you follow the white boundary lines of the field towards your target, the soft grass crunching beneath your feet. Leon's eyes are fixed on the field, his sharp features softened by the spring glow.

But he's quick to notice your approach, turning his head ever so slightly to the left. It makes you feel naked as he shamelessly watches you coming closer.

"Mr Kennedy," you greet him.

As you approach, the warm spring breeze ruffles your hair, the sweet scent of blooming flowers mixing with his heady aroma. Posture relaxed, his broad shoulders almost blend with the darkness of the car behind him.

"Just call me Leon."

Eyes back on the field, a tinge of carelessness in his voice, a small tug on his lips. Hesitating momentarily, you put your hands in your pockets.

"I’d rather stick to being professional."

It makes him chuckle; voice rumbling with amusement–

"You’re making me feel old," he teases.

–making your chest tighten. His words brush against your ears like the gentle rustling of leaves on a cool autumn breeze.

The lightness in his tone, the hint of playfulness, stirs something deep within you.

It’s your turn to return the light laugh. The sound mingling with the chirping of birds in the distance.

"It’s good that you’re here. Your daughter seems to appreciate it as well."

Leon's eyes flicker to his daughter, still surrounded by her teammates; a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

"Yeah," he says, the warmth in his voice evident, "she’s been talking about this game for a week."

"She’s really talented in sports."

A cool breeze brushes against your skin as he removes his sunglasses. Eyes reminiscent of the clear waters of a mountain lake–the color seems to deepen and intensify as he looks at you, drawing you in.

"That she got from me," the corners of his mouth curve up into a charming smile. His voice deep and smooth, like a glass of well-aged whiskey. You can sense his confidence, the way he carries himself with ease, and it's hard not to be drawn in.

It's alluring. The way he exudes a sense of self-assurance.

Smiling lightly, hand resting on the cool hood of his car, you both watch the children race each other. Cheers fill the soccer fields.

Even in momentarily silence, it’s comfortable–

"Well, she certainly inherited some good genes, Mr Kennedy."

–there’s no awkward cluster around the two of you. It’s natural.

It draws Leon’s attention back to you. Arms folded, his fingers sneak around his bicep, gripping gently as he shamelessly looks at you. His face a canvas of chiseled features and sharp lines. reminiscent of a Greek statue carved out of marble. A faint scent of musk and cologne lingers around him, blending with the sweet aroma of blooming flowers in the air.

"Just so you know, miss teacher," his voice soft melody that lingers in your mind, "the dinner invitation still stands."

It’s tempting.

The words hang in the air, tantalizingly close.

A whistle cuts through the sounds of the soccer field, interrupting the moment. Leon’s attention briefly flickers towards his daughter, checking as the little girl sprints towards the two of you, before returning to your face.

"And I should remind you, Mr Kennedy, that it’s not very appropriate to ask your daughter’s teacher out."

The voice in your head keeps telling you to be professional, the thought of spending an evening with this man is hard to resist though. His confident, easy-going demeanor, the way he doesn’t give up easily–

"So? It’s just dinner," his tone is almost conspiratorial, as if he's sharing a secret with you.

–it makes you feel alive.

(Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. It’s not strictly forbidden.

Only frown upon. Harshly.)

It's like he's the sun, and you're the earth, drawn into his orbit.

"Daddy," his daughter doesn’t hesitate, jumping straight into her father’s arm; yet Leon isn’t phased at all, hoisting her into his arms, "Did you see my goal?"

"I did, pup," arm sneaking underneath her knees, you notice the bandage gone, "you killed it."

"Miss teacher," the kid addresses you, hand sneaking into her dad’s hair to hold him tightly while looking up at you with bright, curious eyes, "Did you see me? Did you see my goal?"

"Of course," you answer with a warm smile, "you did great. Seems like you got good genes for it."

The little girl beams with pride, hugging her father even tighter. Leon chuckles, the sound low and rich, and nods his head in agreement.

"I’ll see you on Monday then; pleasure seeing you, Mr Kennedy," as you turn to leave, you can't help but feel a twinge of regret.

The low hum of chatter fills the air, punctuated by occasional laughter and the clink of glasses. The dim lighting casts a warm glow over the wooden booths and bar, giving the place a cozy feel. The smell of fried food and beer lingers in the air, adding to the ambiance of the traditional American pub.

From a corner, a live band plays classic rock tunes, and the patrons nod along to the rhythm, singing softly under their breaths. It's a perfect spot to unwind after a long workday, catch up with friends. Or even make new connections.

Your little freedom.

Away from responsibilities. From the stress of daily life.

This is your escape, your sanctuary, where you can let loose and just be yourself.

Coming to the bartender, you order another round for the group you’re with, only to be taken back by a familiar voice saying your name.

Turning to look at the man by your right, the white stripes on his jacket contrast against the dim, warm ambiance of the room. Fingers tapping on the rim of the glass of whiskey, he takes a sip, his gaze fixed on you; the amber liquid catching the light, casting a glow across his features.

"Mr Kennedy," you exhale, almost in disbelief by the sudden situation.

Mind whirling with surprise and curiosity; the bar is chill against your exposed arm as you lean onto it, turning to look at the man by your side.

"Wouldn’t expect a teacher to be in a bar on Friday night," he smirks, the corner of his lips curving up in amusement.

"We’re not as frigid as people have us to be," you replied, feeling a smile tug at the corners of your lips.

Voice like a smoldering flame, waiting to be ignited, he tilts the glass towards you, "Oh, really."

The allure of his presence tangible.

A gravitational pull.

"Well, Mr Kennedy," the words roll off your tongue smoothly, "I suppose we all have our ways of letting loose after a hard week."

He chuckles, the sound deep and throaty; making your pulse quicken, heartbeat pick up. "I couldn't agree more," he says, taking another sip of his drink.

You study him for a moment; taking in the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, how his hair fal across his forehead in a disheveled yet stylish way. There’s something undeniably attractive about him, something that draws you in against all odds–

–like a moth to a flame.

Life has a funny way of working out.

You should stop.

But ‘should’ doesn’t exist in the moment of impulse. In the realm of desire. Pure, unblistered passion. The temptation to follow desire is too strong–

The world falls away.

–and all thought of 'should' dissipates.

Leon's hands slide around your thighs, gripping the flesh firmly as his body pushes against yours. Pinned to the wall; his lips trail the pulse of your neck. The tip of his tongue leaving wet patches on the heated skin.

The sudden intrusion of reality makes you gasp,"What about—".

It’s Leon’s hand on your breast; squeezing, teasing the clothed flesh through the thin material, thumbing at the erect nipple, that earns him a moan. His daughter’s name spilling over into a sound so soft. Inviting.

Like a hummingbird.

A content hum echoes in his chest; pressed tightly against yours. Feeling the muscles contract beneath you, respond to your movement; to the way your hips press against the growing bulge in his pants.

"—she’s stayin’ at my friend’s," he mumbles against the curve of your collarbones, teeth grazing the firm area.

With a strong grip, your fingers entangle in his hair. The texture soft and silky, like running your hands through fine threads of spun gold.

"Isn’t she young for sleepovers?"

It makes him look at you. Eyes glazed over; hungry. Primal–

He pulls you into an embrace, arm wrapping around your back, his palm cupping your ass. The heat of his body seeps through your clothing, searing your skin with its intensity, his breath ghosting over your lips as he whispers, "I really don’t wanna talk about my kid right now."

It’s a command rather than anything else.

Followed by your clothes.

He has you bare before you make up your mind.

–causing your skin to crawl.

With every touch, every whisper, every breath, he leaves you feeling more exposed, more vulnerable.

Limbs tangled together, lips pressed against each other; there’s no beginning and no end. When one begins, the other follows, like an unbroken circle of passion and desire.

Utter consumption by the fire inside you.

Leon’s hands feel scorching. Each stroke branding your skin.

He splits your apart, fills you to the brim. The head of his cock kisses the innermost parts of you as you stay seated on top of him. Nails scratching the firm muscle of his breastplate; he grips your sides. Digs his fingers into the soft, plump flesh there.

Teeth nip at your chin. Gently nibbles accompanied by your hips circling on top of him.

Cascade of groans, grunts and moans echo throughout Leon’s bedroom; each sound building on the other to create a crescendo of pleasure. The mattress beneath you creaks and strains under your knees.

Lost in the feeling.

His words a salacious melody; sung in a sultry whisper followed by his teeth, nibling at your earlobe; securing your grip on his shoulders feeling the strength of his muscles as he guides your moves.

Up and down. Up and down.

Circle your hips when your pelvis meets his. When your ass touches his thighs; when his fingers dig into the round flesh.

The rhythm builds, the tension mounting with every breath. The ache of desire deep inside, a longing that can only be sated by him. With each movement, you feel closer to the edge, your body aching for release.

Leon whispers encouragement, his voice like a caress against your skin. Head buried in the crook of your neck, your arms tighten around his shoulder. Face buried in the top of his head, the scent of him fills your senses; a heady, intoxicating aroma that envelops you in its warmth.

You breathe him in, savoring the subtle notes of bergamot and spice, the rich undertones of musk and earthiness.

Leon’s name leaves your lips in a soft, breathless moan, a prayer to the god of pleasure.

His lips brush against your collarbone, lingering there for a moment before trailing lower, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Skin erupting in goosebumps as his breath tickles your chest, your body bows like a taut bowstring, a supplication to his touch. Offering yourself up to him completely.

Hands roam over your body, tracing the curves and planes of your skin with reverent fingers. As if he knows just where to touch you.

With a strong pull and push, your back meets the hard mattress. His hands move over you like a painter's brush, each stroke bringing out a new hue of pleasure. Hips grinding against yours.

Pressing your body closer to his, chest to chest, he rocks against you. The intensity of his movements leaves you gasping for air, a low moan escaping your lips as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge. His hands grip your hips tightly, fingers digging into your skin as he continues to rut into you.

Long lost is the slow motion–

Your pelvis meets his in a harsh, demanding thrust.

–now he’s chasing his own high. His own release.

His hand slides to cup your jaw, grip your shoulder, eyes boring into yours; intense and unwavering, as if he’s trying to read your thoughts through the depth of your eyes. Consumed by the heat of you.

Head thrown back, you close your eyes; unable to match the fire in his as he grinds against you; his breaths ragged gasps, the only sound in the room the soft rustling of sheets and the slapping of skin against skin.

Leon knows he won’t last long. Not with the way your mouth remains agape, nails digging into the firm tendons of his biceps; heels digging into the flesh of his ass, pushing him deeper. Demanding him to go harder.

You just look so pretty underneath him.

Fingertips trace the warm flesh of your curves. They move slowly, mapping the supple contours of your body with precision; each touch deliberate, a way of committing the curves of your form to memory.

The sensation is electric, every nerve ending on high alert.

His thumb finds your clit, circling it with teasing precision, a feather-light touch. Pushing your hips into his, he obliges your silent demand – adding a bit more pressure with each pass. The slow, steady rhythm of his touch in bright contrast to the sharp thrusts.

Building the tension inside you, until you feel like you might burst. But he doesn't let up, not yet. He's savoring every moment, enjoying the way you writhe beneath him.

Your breath hitches, body tensing as he works you with an almost clinical precision. The ache between your legs grows, spreading through your entire body. He watches you, gauging your reactions, and adjusts his touch accordingly.

The way he focuses on you, with a singular, unwavering intensity, is both thrilling and terrifying.

As for Leon, every movement, every sound, is calculated. He wants to make this last. He wants to make you lose control.

His muscles tense as he drives into you, each thrust bringing him closer to the edge. His breaths come in short gasps, matching the rhythm of your moans. The heat between you intensifies, a physical force that binds you together.

With one final push, final flick of a thumb, he takes you over the edge, his name on your lips.

Clenching around him, walls fluttering, his thrusts grow slow. Leisurely.

As if he’s tantalizing himself. Savoring the feel before he lets go with a groan; a guttural sound that echoes through the bedroom; body spasming. The two of you entwined in a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss.

There should be some sort of regret.

Standing by the foot of Leon’s bed, still searching for your clothes amid the scattered chaos of the apartment, covered by a random shirt you’ve found on the ground (that’s definitely not the one you’ve come with), you can’t help but be drawn to the sleeping man lying before you.

The sheets barely cover the curve of his lower back, and even in slumber, the muscles of his back remain visible; the outline of his physique remains defined and sharp, even in relaxation. The memory of his back muscles beneath your palms lingers on your skin, as if he were still present with you in that moment.

There’s no regret.

Exiting the bedroom, you walk past the kitchen into the hallway. The emptiness of the space is palpable, with nothing adorning the plain white walls; no family photos or decorations to add personality. Only the essential pieces of furniture remain. The floor creaks beneath your bare feet as you open the door closer to you–

(It’s almost like he doesn’t have anyone.

A sense of desolation creeps in you.)

–and are met with a blinding contrast to the rest of the apartment. Rainbow colored sheets neatly tucked into the small bed, pillows in shape of various animals. Light furniture covered in school supplies; and a photo decorating the nightstand.

You pick it up, immediately recognized the two people. It might be the first time you’re seeing Leon actually smile, wide and bright. Happy; with his daughter tightly wrapped in his arms. Faces pressed together, smiling at the camera.

"I hope you're not trying to steal anything," Leon's voice interrupts your reverie; low and husky, still laced by the morning sleep, "I don't have much, y’know."

As you pivot to face him, you can't resist noticing how his bare feet stand out against his fully-clothed form. Hair tousled and messy, only adding to his rugged appeal.

An irresistible wave of attraction washes over you as you scrutinize his appearance, and his playful tone only adds fuel to the fire.

"Don't worry, I'm not after your prized possessions," you reply with a smirk, feeling emboldened by his proximity.

Leon's eyes twinkle mischievously as he steps closer to you, his warm breath brushing against your cheek. "Well, in that case, what’re you after?"

"I was just looking for a bathroom."

Leon's gaze lingers on you, lips curled up in a half-smile. "The bathroom’s down the hall to the right," he points with a nod of his head.

You nod back, trying to ignore the electric sensation that courses through you at his proximity. "Thanks," you say, stepping past him towards the direction he indicated.

As you walk down the hallway, you can't shake off the feeling of emptiness that you felt earlier. It's clear that Leon lives a minimalist lifestyle, but the lack of personal touches leaves you with a sense of melancholy.

Entering the bathroom, you take a moment to splash water on your face, trying to compose yourself before facing Leon again.

His voice echoes through the small apartment as you make your way towards his voice, entering the kitchen; you're struck by how immaculate it is. Everything’s in its place, and there isn't a single dish out of place. The countertop is spotless, the sink free of any debris, the stainless-steel appliances gleam in the light.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the air with the morning sun streaming through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room.

"I’ll pick her up in an hour," Leon stands in front of the refrigerator, two mugs in one hand, bare feet making a soft thumping sound against the linoleum floor. His hair’s still tousled from sleep, his t-shirt is wrinkled, clinging to his muscles as he holds the phone to his ear.

There’s a certain charm to his disheveled appearance that you find appealing.

Looking at you, he makes no effort to stop the call, instead a playful undertones his voice as he hands you a mug and motions towards the coffee machine, "yeah, just woke up. Had a long night."

Shaking your head at his words; he watches you with a small, amused smile, the corners of his lips twitching upwards.

"See you then. Bye, Claire,” he ends the call, turning his full attention to you.

"Y’know, miss teacher," he pours himself a glass of water, "if you just wanted to skip the whole dinner thing, you should’ve just said."

[kiachiako]

stars, moons, & other celestial bodies | j.jh

pairing | jaehyun x female!reader

synopsis | With your fizzy drinks and vinyls in tow, you’re determined to make the most of your summer before the start of your first year at university. Everything’s seemingly perfect; humid afternoons with your closest friends, late-night mixers at your local alumnis' estates, and sleeping in to ungodly hours. What you didn’t predict, however, was your brother making the early trip home to surprise you with a certain someone — namely, his best friend since childhood — following closely behind. His unexpected appearance throws you off, and suddenly, your summer is filled to the brim with his presence. You’re finally able to taste the idea of mature love, but is it really all that it’s made out to be?

content | brother!taeyong, retro-themed au, angst, fluff, coming of age, language warning, suggestive, mentions and consumption of alcohol/drugs

wc | 26.7k

song | delicate — taylor swift

a/n | for @hyuckmov and @rrxnjun, who kept me sane while writing this monster :D

...

The first week of summer before your freshman year of university is defined by sticky ‘n sweet cherry cola, rides around the abandoned carousel with your friends, and “borrowing” quarters out of your brother’s Cadillac to insert into the jukebox of the local diner; break has been this way since as long as you could remember. It's a familiar itinerary, one that plays back routinely every school break.

You’ve grown up without even realizing, your teenage days spent juggling academic work and getting into stupid situations with Mark and Chaewon trickling down to a close. This conclusion really hit you during an epiphany on a sweltering night after high school graduation. 

It occurred in the midst of humid sepia air, the three of you still in your graduation caps and gowns as your bodies lay splayed across the asphalt leading down to your street. With the absence of cars coming down the wide road, it was perfectly rational to lay side by side in the middle of the cul-de-sac. The ground was simply the best place to ponder your thoughts and get lost in swirling memories now that university lay too close on the horizon; the sheer size of the sky seemed to mock your trio as you watched the clouds roll on by in their mismatched shapes and harrowing wisps. 

A cigar — one comically too big for his face — hung between Mark’s fingers as he pushed his body to flop over your arm, the thing no doubt “borrowed” from the bottom of his father’s office drawer.

“Thank the Lord I’ll never have to see you bitches again,” he had sighed in pretend relief, blowing a tunnel of smoke into the side of your face as you pushed his warm skin off of yours. Chaewon snorted from beside you.

“Please, as if you’ll last a day without us at uni,” she retorted, rolling over onto her stomach and pulling a face at Mark’s teasing words. “I can’t even count the amount of times I’ve saved your life over this past month alone.”

“Yeah?” Mark grinned, supporting his upper body with his forearms as he turned to look at her over your relaxed figure. “Enlighten me.” She subsequently raised her eyebrows at him.

“Might I remind you of the time you got stuck at the drive-through cinema at 2am because you had locked yourself out of your car? And guess whose asses had to haul yours back home two hours away,” Chaewon pointed an accusing finger at Mark, her tone joking as she glared at said boy. He opened his mouth to say something but she held up a finger to her mouth in a shushing motion, stopping him. “And. Let’s not forget last week,” Mark furrowed his eyebrows, as if trying to recall which out of all the dumb decisions he had made was about to be relived, “when Kang Yujin pushed up on you during that one house party, you got a hard on from just that, and we had to cover for you-”

Mark shot up abruptly, leaning over you to slap a hand over Chaewon’s mouth before rushing to defend himself.

“But she was so hot, Chae, you wouldn’t understand,” he whined at her, frowning at you to do something and sympathize with him. It was expected by now, the regular petty and half-assed arguments making your friendship that much stronger.

As they continued bickering back and forth, you couldn’t help but let your mind drift away back into the clouds, the setting sun soaking them with a blazing, burnt umber. You would be going to college soon, and that meant no Mark, no Chaewon, and no parents to keep you sane. It was strange to imagine not spending every waking moment with your two best friends, and even stranger to think that going to different schools would mean no more daily drama fill-ins and midnight convenience store runs.

But after all, you had done it once, and you hoped you could do it again.

When your older brother Taeyong left for university a few years ago, it had practically shattered you. Sure, you found him incredibly annoying at times (still do) and had a constant vendetta against the man, but when the moment came to hug him goodbye, you just couldn’t bring yourself to let go. He had shown you the ins and outs of adolescence and given you the attention you craved when your parents couldn’t. He taught you how to take care of yourself, how to look in the mirror and recognize your worth, how to know your own limits, and how to realize that high school boys weren’t shit. He was always the first to get to the hospital when you had gotten hurt at school, and most important of all, he was with you throughout the highs and lows growing up.

If Taeyong leaving home had taught you anything, it was that time moves too fast — and it’ll only move faster as you get older. You know that your life is about to enter Round 2, and this time without anyone to hold your hand as you enter an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people.

But it’s not over just yet.

Your best friends would never let that happen, and you recognize this now as your golden trio sits in your town’s local record shop, with ceiling fans whirring above you as the cool storefront protects you from the blazing summer heat.

It’s after-hours but the sun still burns bright into the late afternoon. You recline in the cashier chair as Chaewon flips the 'open' sign closed and makes her way back to you and Mark, the latter sitting against the wall with a variety of bottles surrounding him on the checkered floor. 

He’s in an odd position, and you just know his mother would flip if she saw him with this much alcohol on a wednesday afternoon (at least it’s not a Sunday after mass, but she definitely doesn’t need to know that he’s been there, done that already). Mark tests out new concoctions every week, using the record store as his work space; the owner’s never in town and barely any customers come in to buy records these days, so there’s no one to stop him. Chaewon raises her eyebrows as she eyes the newest addition to his special menu.

“I’m not even gonna ask,” you say as he swirls the amber liquid around in a clean whisky bottle. Mark whistles at his creation, impressed, before holding it up to you and shaking it tauntingly. It smells slightly floral, the sharp flavors of absinthe and cognac making your nose scrunch.

“You’re just mad that your mixes don’t hit as hard as mine, baby.” With another swirl, he lifts the drink up to his mouth to taste. “And because you so nicely asked,” Mark smirks at you, “it’s Peychaud’s Bitters, cognac, syrup, and anise, and I give you my permission to borrow the recipe to impress your future uni friends. You’re welcome.” You shove Mark’s shoulder with your palm as he laughs at your baffled expression, body shaking with amusement while he sips away at his newest pride. 

It’s only when Chaewon reaches over to steal the bottle away from him that your phone starts ringing, startling all three of you as the name of your older brother flashes across the screen. Mark looks at you inquisitively, but you just shrug in response and press the receive button.

“Tae?” you inquire, surprised at the sudden call. “Everything okay?”

He hums at the end of the line. 

“More than okay. Guess whose plans just changed and is actually coming home today for break,” he reveals right away, and you know he’s smiling by the way his tone of voice is lilted in true Taeyong fashion.

“No fucking way,” you breathe out, eyes widening. Taeyong’s back? “Today, right now? For the entire summer? You’re actually lying- wait wait I’m coming home right now. Wait. Wait for me.”

“‘Wait wait wait,’ I’m not going anywhere sis,” he grins as he mocks you, noises of shuffling sounding out over your phone speaker. “Mom’s gonna pick me up from the airport in 30, I think. See you then?”

“Lee Taeyong! How could you not tell me,” you frown into the receiver, “I need at least three business days to prepare before seeing your face.”

“Oh, shut up would you. I have literal voicemail receipts of you crying about how much you miss me,” Taeyong retorts, topping your sarcasm. 

You sigh, rubbing your temple when you realize that Taeyong’s never gonna let your sad-drunk voicemails go. “Fine, but you better spend every single day with me.”

Taeyong protests jokingly before giving in, promising you that he’ll make up for the time you’ve missed together. With a little, love you, and more of his usual unsolicited comments, the two of you say your quick goodbyes and you turn back to your waiting friends. 

“Damn, Taeyong’s really back?” Mark looks at you in awe, his eyes shining with admiration. “He never stays for long, that’s crazy. You gotta let me come over at least once,” he pleads, hands grabbing yours. You know that your best friend looks up to your brother a ton, so you nod at him. “Sick, imma finally be able to talk music with him.”

“Wait, if Taeyong’s coming home for the entire summer,” Chaewon pauses, a knowing smile growing on her face as you groan, knowing exactly what she’s about to say next, “that means a certain Jeong Jaehyun will probably be following him back as well. And likely other kids in their year too from SNU… holy shit, the parties are gonna be literally insane this summer.” She throws her head back in elation as the realization strikes the three of you at once.

“You’re so right,” Mark covers his mouth to hide the smug grin taking over his face. He makes a heart with his hands as he observes you. “I can’t believe that I forgot Miss Y/N over here had the biggest crush on Jaehyun in high school.” You hit him on the chest in response as he absolutely loses it over your misfortune. 

“Lovergirl,” he sing-songs, adding fuel to the fire while you shove your face into your palms. Your cheeks warm on their own when your mind flash-backs to your second year of high school, your insufferable crush on your brother’s best friend surfacing memories that you had buried after they both had graduated two years ago.

“I’m leaving,” you mumble into your hands, “all you two do is make me suffer.” 

Chaewon grins at you before pulling your figure into a tight hug, tugging Mark in too by his shirt to join your little group. 

“It’s out of love,” she giggles before kissing your cheek with an exaggerated muah. Turning slowly towards Mark, he lets out a, “nope nope nope,” before scrambling away from Chaewon’s outstretched arms.

Smiling at their antics, you collect your few belongings and tuck some new records under your arm before heading out of the shop. Saluting your friends goodbye and opening the front door, you cringe at the wave of heat that seeps into the cool space. 

“Say hi to Taeyong for me, Y/N! We’ll lock up for today,” Chaewon calls out from behind the counter, sending you an air kiss when you step out into your town’s center square.

The streets buzz with life as you make the quick walk back to your house. With a brilliant sunset soaking the streets in tangerine tones and a line of quaint shops’ wind chimes fluttering beside you, you can’t bring yourself to care about the heat. The alleys you stroll down are comfy, lined with the latest pastel DeLoreans and colorful paper garlands tied along their telephone lines. It’s a complete memory lane, and your comfy suburb — filled with traditional gaewa roofs and terracotta neutrals, clay-red stained roads and gated hanoks — hold a familiarity that no other could replace. It’s the more cramped side of town, and you might envy Taeyong’s thrilling city life that you see through his social media, but nothing will ever beat home.

Your lace camisole sticks to your skin with fervor as you finally get to your own address, letting out a sigh of relief when cool shade encompasses you in the juniper-tinted light of the mudroom. Setting your brand-new records onto the kitchen floor, their faded titles peeking over thin paper sheaths, you make yourself comfortable on the floor as you hum to yourself. The house is quiet.

You put one of the new records into your player before your gaze drifts over to a stack of pictures on the tabletop, filtered evenly between stray letters and tacky postcards that your older brother has always had a knack for. 

In addition to texting and calling home every month, Taeyong made it a habit a few years ago to send you the little magazine cut-outs and mini posters that he sees on his escapades, trinkets that remind him of you. Your little kitchen-counter-collection has thinned out in the past months as your brother got increasingly busier with school and his modeling jobs, barely coming home for a few days before rushing back for castings and elite functions. Nonetheless, a little orange package addressed to you would appear at your doorstep with each change of the seasons, tinged with your brother’s cologne and topped with his messy handwriting.

Just as you place the needle on a shiny black record with Missy Elliot’s face plastered across its front, you hear the front door creak open before noises of rolling luggage and playful shouting fill the house's interior. 

“Mom, I’m not ten anymore,” you hear Taeyong whine in the higher-pitched voice he reserves solely for family, the telltale sign of his embarrassment, “I can carry my backpack myself. Promise.”

You can imagine the scene before you even see it: your brother looking away to the window as he tries to fight the smile creeping on his face, your mother on her tip-toes as she musses with her son’s hair even though he’s a head taller, and of course, your father leaning against the door with a content grin as his watches his wife’s face light up with happiness that the family is together again.

When you hear their footsteps near your seated figure on the kitchen floor, you feel your brother’s presence before you even see him. 

Taeyong stops a few paces away from you, dropping his bag carelessly on the ground before standing with his arms outstretched and eyebrows raised. With his messy hair and airport clothes still hanging off his shoulders, your brother looks like a favorite uncle at holiday dinners when he hasn’t seen his favorite niece and nephew all year.

“Aren’t you gonna come say hi to your best friend before you abandon me for your vinyls again,” he teases before crossing the threshold in three steps and embracing you fully. “It’s been a while, hmm rockstar?” 

You hum at the familiar term of endearment, sinking into his figure as your brother rocks you back and forth. You look up at him, his face looking more mature and sharp than when you saw him last.

“You gotta catch me up on that crazy life of yours, yeah? We have all summer.”

Nodding contently, you follow your brother and parents into the dining room for dinner before settling back into the feeling of having four people at home again. Just like the old days, before Taeyong left, where your worries were limited and you allowed yourself to be childish.

…

If anything makes you glad you’re alive, it’s being able to wake up at 2pm in the afternoon on a Thursday and feeling you just gained ten years. It’s truly a blessing, and if you were a bit more religious, you’d be thanking God right now for no school and black-out curtains.

Quickly getting ready, you give one last glance at yourself in the mirror before rushing downstairs to see if anyone’s home still. To your surprise, you catch Taeyong right as he’s opening the door to the basement. 

“So she’s alive,” he calls out with an approving nod, surprised that you actually managed to wake up before the sun sets once again. You roll your eyes as you pull cereal in front of you on the kitchen table. The two of you are back to your old ways in a matter of hours, making fun of each other at every chance you get.

“It’s not my fault you don’t know how to enjoy life, Tae,” you shrug, grabbing leftovers from the fridge. He simply tsks at you before walking over to affectionately ruffle your hair, drawing a complaint from you about messing it up.

“Anyway, some of my old friends are coming over today to catch up. We’re probably gonna be downstairs for a while so just let them in the front when they come,” your brother relays, moving back towards the basement when you throw up an okay sign. He gives you a knowing look. “You’re always welcome to join, you know. They all love you.”

You crinkle your nose at the idea. Sure, you’re pretty familiar with most of Taeyong’s high school friends, but you really aren’t too keen on the idea of spending your afternoon with a bunch of older boys when you could be hanging out with Mark and Chaewon.

“I’m okay. You guys have fun, though.”

Resuming your attention on your food, you open the front door a couple times over the next hour for said boys. Their features chiseled, styles changed, and voices a bit deeper, they’re all caught by surprise when you open the door for them (Yuta’s inability to recognise you at all really takes the cake). You suppose that a lot can change in two years.

After the seventh ring of the doorbell, you sigh in exasperation before making your way to the front once again. You grumble under your breath before opening the door, the bitter expression wiping right off your face when you see the two figures in front of you.

“Johnny!”

“Y/N,” the familiar boy exclaims, his towering stature enveloping you in a warm hug before pulling back and examining your growth. “Look who’s all pretty and grown! You look so much like Taeyong now that it’s scary,” he beams at you while turning your face side to side with his hands, and you can’t help but return it. If anyone was as much of an older brother figure as your real one was, it would be Johnny. 

“Hey,” a voice sounds out besides him after a few moments of Johnny’s compliments, startling you, and your eyes finally flick over to the subject of your teenage years’ daydreams. Your heart floods with a jittery feeling when he reaches out to give you a hug. “It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.” 

Jeong Jaehyun hasn’t changed a bit since you last saw him at your brother’s graduation. 

His hair is a bit longer now, dark brown curls shimmering gold in the sunlight and his ears now adorned with more silver studs and rings. But the sun-kissed freckles dusting his nose, the deep-set dimples, the starry eyes — they’re exactly the same as you remember.

He’s still breathtaking.

Johnny bursts your little moment as he grabs your arm to lead you back into your house, pulling both you and Jaehyun along with him to the basement entrance. 

Even though you’re painfully aware of your fingers nervously playing with the bracelets on your wrist, it’s true that these boys practically watched you grow up. Even when you look at a certain brown-eyed boy, your whole world feels like it's stopping. Even when your stupid childhood crush on your brother’s best friend was supposed to be gone by now. You know them, and they know you.

After Johnny and Jaehyun disappear down the stairs with a small goodbye and the invitation to join them once again, you head back up to your own room, collapsing onto your bed and staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars plastered across your ceiling. 

You remember your brother and Jaehyun setting them up for you many years ago, their young figures using your bed as leverage to stick them on when you were still too short to reach. You had handed each star carefully to the boys, making sure the adhesive side was up before telling them where to place each one. They waited patiently for you to give them every star until the whole box was empty, the three of you high fiving before you had thanked them enthusiastically. Taeyong had simply pinched your cheek and said, “anything for my baby sister,” before pulling Jaehyun away to play another video game in the living room. 

Taeyong was a kind older brother, never complaining when your mother told him to bring you with him and his friends on their little adventures. Occasionally he found you annoying, but his friends never minded your presence, so he couldn’t find a reason to either. You were integrated into their daily outings, the boys taking turns talking and playing games with you as the days progressed.

You think your liking to Jaehyun started then: when your young mind easily confused admiration with puppy love. Your brother’s friends were the nicest boys you had met, certainly nicer than the boys in your class at school. Jaehyun specifically always made sure you were comfortable, making silly faces at you when your eyes met across the room and remembering to bring you snacks from across the street when he got some for his best friend. He was perfect in your eyes.

When you started hanging out more with your own friends as you got older, things never really changed regarding your feelings for the boy. Your secret crush was still as prominent as ever, eyes following his mess of hair whenever he passed you in the hallway at school; it didn’t help that his name was passed around no matter what year you were. Jaehyun this and Jaehyun that, you were definitely not the only girl whose heartbeat stopped whenever he looked their way. He was polite, confident, and undeniably charming, your school’s beloved basketball team captain and a favorite of teachers: the kind of boy everyone wanted to be out of envy, but couldn’t. He was truly untouchable. Your classmates would stare at you in awe when he waved at you through the classroom entrance, telling you how lucky you were that your brother and his group were so cool and how you had guys like Jaehyun over all the time. 

But it wasn’t like it was any different at home, where he would smile at you just the same as you worked on your homework in the kitchen before retreating back into the basement with Taeyong. 

Even though fifteen year-old you thought your feelings were pretty damn strong at that time, the age gap felt a bit too gaping where kids two years older felt worlds away. By seventeen, they were already off driving and taking weekend trips, your brother’s license making leeway for nights when he and his friends wouldn’t return until sunrise. It felt a little bit like you had been left behind, and yeah, it sucked, but you decided right then and there that you could have fun without them. Taeyong’s friends weren’t necessarily yours in the first place, and you came to the realization that it might have been strange for you to be so close with them at an older age anyway.

If you were sad about not seeing Jaehyun in particular too much anymore, you tried not to show it. Your best friends — Mark and Chaewon — had always known, teasing you relentlessly when the older boy was around, but the idea of him was only a lingering thought at the back of your mind when he graduated. Your ears still perked up hearing his name in passing, but you had your own problems to consume your thoughts and started getting into a new genre of trouble with your friends; the idea of Jaehyun was supposed to be dead and buried six feet under.

So then why was he plaguing your mind like this after years of successfully not thinking about him?

You groan and throw an arm over your face.

Shit.

…

“My little film-maker,” a voice pops up from above you, the grinning face of your brother accompanying it as he surprises you into oblivion. You make a face up at him and offer a reluctant little wave before returning back to your camcorder, zooming in on Chaewon beside you.

You’re on the asphalt outside your house again. The air’s cooler today, a gray sheet of clouds blocking any of the sun’s rays from reaching your golden trio. With your head on Mark’s legs, he strums his guitar gently as Chaewon hums along to the familiar tunes. Her hands are busy on their own, one arm out while her other uses markers to draw a garden into her skin with washed-out blues and oranges. 

You turn the camera around to point at Taeyong, the said boy poking his tongue out before plopping down beside Mark.

“I feel like I always find you guys on the ground,” he mutters, observing the way Mark strums his instrument with care and experience. Your friend looks a little intimidated with the proximity of Taeyong leaning towards him, but he plays on nevertheless.

You shrug. “It’s more comfortable.”

“And we’re a little closer to Hell down here,” Chaewon adds on with a grin, pausing from her flesh-art to look up at Taeyong. “We’ll all be heading there soon anyway.”

“Smart girl,” he laughs out, throwing his head back to stare into the sky. He stays there for a good moment before jumping back up onto his feet and twirling a shiny set of car keys around his fingers. “Anyway, I’m afraid I’ll have to steal Y/N for a bit,” your brother fakes a trail of tears down his cheek with his fist. “Don’t miss her too much.”

“Never,” Mark smirks at you, reaching out to pat your arm affectionately when you let out an offended, Oscar worthy sob at his words. 

“Don’t have more fun with him than you do with us, babe,” she calls out as Taeyong drags you off. You salute her back before she turns back to her painting.

Stumbling behind your brother to catch up with his long strides, your eyebrows raise when you catch sight of his infamous red Cadillac parked down the winding road. You grip on tighter to your camcorder before jogging up to the passenger side, ready to swing your legs over the side of the convertible. 

“Not so fast,” Taeyong calls out, amused, as he strolls up casually to the driver's side. “We’re picking up some of the guys and Johnny already called shotgun yesterday. Take it up with him, rockstar.”

You splutter indignantly before crossing to the backseat with a huff, sinking into the car’s tan, leather seats and crossing your arms. “Not fair, Tae,” you complain at him before he starts the engine, starting off in the direction of an area you’ve never been before. “Where are we even going?”

He doesn’t answer.

Soon enough, three more bodies crowd into your brother’s car after dropping by Jungwoo’s condo, the boy squishing into the back with you as Jaehyun of all people slides into the seat on the other side of you. They offer smiles and quick greetings to you before the car takes off once again. 

His proximity hits you far harder than Jungwoo’s, and you know exactly why. You keep your head tilted away from him as you try to focus on Johnny in the front seat, who’s passionately retelling an encounter he had at the supermarket this morning. It’s incredibly hard when Jaehyun moves and his thigh touches yours, fifteen year-old you coming back to life within you and screaming all sorts of insane things at your brain. You can physically feel his warmth radiating off his skin. 

“—so we both reach out at the same time, and luckily, I snatch the crate right before her hands do. But,” Johnny pauses to look through the rearview mirror for dramatic effect, his shades glinting as the Cadillac speeds through dusty roads. “You won’t believe who those hands belonged to.”

He stills with the skill of an A-list actor, reaching up to pluck the sunnies off his face and stare right into Jaehyun’s eyes through the silver glass.

“Lim Saemi.”

Everybody has a different reaction to the name-drop, with Jungwoo and Taeyong’s gasp and your muffled noise ringing out as your eyes widen in the slightest. You try to glance at Jaehyun subtly, and his face doesn’t flicker a bit from its usual stoic expression, but you can feel him tense up next to you before relaxing a few seconds later. He appears seemingly unphased, and if you had not been watching carefully from out of the corner of your eye you would have fallen for it.

You know better, though.

“Oh? Is she back home for the summer too?” Jaehyun throws out casually, tucking his chin in his hand as he looks out through the wind. 

“Wait Jae… you didn’t know? I thought if anyone would know first, it would be you,” Jungwoo leans back, surprised at this new development. “Even I knew, and everyone knows I don’t catch onto shit.”

“It’s whatever,” Jaehyun mumbles, deflecting the weird looks he receives. He ends the conversation with two words, and the car falls into silence with the only noises being those from tires against gravel. You glance at him before staring straight forward through the dash.

You know Lim Saemi.

Who doesn’t, in all honesty. Saemi is Saemi, and you’d be the weird one if you hadn’t heard her name at least once throughout your school years. She was like straight out of a Dior catalog. With as much impact as your older brother and his posse had left, she was everything all the girls in your year wanted to be: too pretty to be unnecessarily shallow, too smart to use her looks irrationally. 

You remember Lim Saemi.

She’s two years older, like Taeyong and Jaehyun and Johnny. She was the girl who was occasionally over at your house during parties when your brother would force you upstairs, her bleached hair and delicate features drawing in everyone immediately. You remember watching from the top of the stairwell as her figure still captured attention in the darkness of winter’s pitch black nights. From your outside point of view, it was like she was the center of a spindling web that stretched throughout the bottom floor of your house; people just couldn’t help but be lured to her.

You wanted to be Lim Saemi.

Just for one day. You needed to know what it felt like to be the center of a certain boy’s affections, even though she attracted every other person’s along the way as well. She was a different type of suburban it-girl, one that everyone was sure would get snatched up into the celebrity world sooner or later with the way she carried herself.

You knew that Jaehyun and Saemi had always been “just friends” — or at least that was what they told everyone — but you could tell he had liked her throughout their high school years. How could you not, especially when you looked at him the same way he looked at her. Back then, it was more curiosity about their complicated relationship than hate fueled jealousy for you. You still couldn’t help but imagine him treating you with the affection he did with her; even as a teenager, you understood why. And ironically, as you sit in the backseat of your brother’s car with the very boy right beside you, the bubbling feeling of envy is uncomfortable in your gut.

Shaking your head out of your retrospective thoughts, you look around in confusion when the convertible starts to slow on a thinning road, towering evergreens blocking the sky from view.

Leading the car through another winding path, it emerges on the other side within acres of grassy fields and wildflower paths that circles a grandiose, central estate home. Marble blocks stretch across its stone ledges like ivy — an intimidating facade if you’ve ever seen one. Taeyong looks at you through the rearview mirror. His eyes crease in pride when he sees the wonder in yours, enraptured by the sight before you. 

“Remember when Johnny said that he’d always wanted to go to a local car show?” your brother starts, grinning at his friend beside him. “Well, yours truly saw an ad at the record shop yesterday for one just outside of town. Someone compliment me, I feel like I just made all of our afternoons a thousand times better.”

“This is actually insane, Yong,” Jungwoo breathes out, eyes widening at the unfamiliar setting. 

Retro cars of all brands and models are parked across an acre, their shiny coats glinting in the sun as masses of people linger near and talk amongst themselves. The white pillars of whoever’s home is hosting the car show serves as a gathering place for lovers to mingle, precariously held champagne flutes an ironic contrast to the grit and dirt of the event itself.

Johnny lets out a low whistle before resting his weight on the center console and lowering his sunglasses, observing the scene. 

“This is exactly my type of place. Old, rich people and hot girls.” 

“Oh my god, Johnny,” you laugh out, not at all surprised that those words came from his mouth. 

You tear your gaze away from the outside view to look at Jaehyun after hearing his embarrassed groan at Johnny’s words. To your surprise, he’s already looking at you. With his piercing gaze on your face, you look away, flustered, playing it off with a small cough.

Taeyong parks his timeless Cadillac besides others of the same nature before leaving to roam around with Johnny and Jungwoo, buzzing with excitement. It’s no surprise that they make their way over to the group of girls huddled around a vintage truck model first, their giggles ringing out across the field as they throw sly glances to the boys headed their way. You catch sight of your brother leaning towards one in particular before deciding you’ve seen enough and turning to explore by yourself.

Thrilled to be left to your own devices, you follow your own little path off to the side towards a pastel-colored Corvette that had caught your eye earlier. Circling it for a few minutes and capturing it slowly through the lens of your camcorder, you smile happily to yourself while replaying the footage in the shade of a lonely willow tree. The cool breeze brings tangs of clementines and vanilla — from where, you don’t know — as well as the unmistakable scent of petrol and cigarettes as it picks up pieces of your hair before rustling the leaves of the willow.

“Can I see?” a familiar voice startles you. You look up to see Jaehyun’s lean figure making his way over to your crouched one, gesturing to your open camera with his head tilted. “If you’re comfortable, of course,” he adds, the corners of his lips quirking up. Mouth agape slightly for a few seconds, you shake yourself out of your momentary funk and nod, thrilled at his interest.

“The colors show up really well with this lighting, especially ‘cuz I just changed my saturation settings,” you mumble, stopping yourself when you realize he probably doesn’t care that much. Tucking your knees to your chest, you wait nervously as you hand the device to him.

You think your heartbeat just about stops when he replies with a “that’s so cool” under his breath.

Jaehyun holds the camera carefully to his chest before sitting down beside you, leaning against the tree trunk before flipping through your gallery. He takes his time watching every little video clip and picture, giving you a little noise of approval every few clicks. 

You’re caught off guard when he sighs and puts the camcorder back in your lap, turning to you with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen grace his features. 

“Y/N, you seriously might be better at this shit than the literal mixed media majors at my uni,” he deadpans. Taken aback, you can’t stop the rosy warmth that creeps up your cheeks. “I’m being so for real right now. Don’t ever stop.”

You pause.

“Do you know how reassuring that is to hear, especially from you?” you say with sincerity, holding eye contact with him.

“Hmm? Really, me?”

“Yeah. It feels like I’m doing something right, like I’m not wasting my time on a fruitless hobby.” Confessing one of your biggest fears to someone who’s familiar to you but not, close to you but not — now that’s probably one of the craziest things you’ve done this week, and you do a whole lot of crazy things in a week.

Jaehyun’s expression changes with your words. He doesn’t reply for a while, just seeming to take in the world around him with only his eyes. Looking from the drooping branches of the willow to its dirt-ingrained roots, his face is cast downwards with a faint, melancholic smile.

Now the mood is ruined, you think to yourself, bitter. Why do I always do this?

Before you can change the subject and move on from your awkward burt-out, he clears his throat. 

“You know, I admire you a lot Y/N. You and Taeyong,” he starts, the slim chain around his neck glittering in the afternoon sun when he turns back to you. “Both of you have always been unafraid to pursue the arts, even though I know how your strict parents are about future careers and all that. I wish I had the courage to just… do what I like instead of being a pushover with my dad. Maybe I would be doing music with your brother instead of barely living day by day in pre-med.”

His usual confident eyes are tinged with regret and a little vulnerability as he ruffles his hair in the wind. You tilt your head at him, trying to come up with comforting words when you aren’t so sure if you’re qualified to give him advice in the first place.

“Well… I admire you a lot, Jaehyun. You’ve always been that one person who consistently looks like they have their life in check, someone who’s able to put their all in everything that they do. It’s really a quality to be proud of,” you say to him honestly. “I think you’ll do well wherever you end up. So don’t worry too much, okay?”

The boy stares at you like no one’s ever said that to him, and no one has; even if this might be a passing comment for you, it’s something that he feels relief to finally hear.

“Thanks.” He says it so quietly that you almost miss it, but you can hear the gratefulness in his voice nevertheless. You both look away for a few seconds when a brilliant yellow bird flutters past the two of you, settling on the ground in front to peck at a white speck in the soil. “Pretty,” he mumbles under his breath, blinking at the animal.

And with that, Jaehyun shakes his head a bit before resuming back to his relaxed demeanor. He lets out a breath of air and runs his tongue over his teeth. 

“Sorry for getting so deep all of a sudden,” he apologies, sheepishly rubbing his neck as you let out a little laugh.

“No, it’s nice to hear that the Valentine Boy has troubles too,” you tease lightly, recalling the God-like aura he used to carry 24/7 when you were younger and the nick-name that followed him around as a result. Jaehyun visibly cringes at your words, no doubt getting high school flashbacks.

“Not that,” he replies, embarrassed. “Anyway, I feel like I haven’t gotten the chance yet to ask you how you’ve been these past few years.” You glance up at him in surprise. He sounds strangely sincere for someone you weren’t that close with out of your brother’s friends, and the confusion must show on your face because he finds it in himself to clarify. “Oh come on, Y/N. I feel like we’ve known each other since forever but I’ve missed a crucial part of your growing up. You’re like a whole different person now.”

“I’d hope so,” you lament, fiddling with your camcorder. “I’ve gone through too much shit to be the same as sixteen-year old me.” Jaehyun laughs out loud at your answer, knowing exactly how you feel as someone who was once a fresh, high school graduate.

“Yeah? Well it seems like just yesterday when you were complaining about being bored after school from not having enough homework—” he stumbles over his words when you push his body with a light shove, the boy barely able to get breaths in with how much he’s laughing at your past cluelessness of how hard high school would really be.

“None of you guys warned me about the horror of calculus, so that is not my fault Jaehyun,” you pout, shaking your head at him.

“So it’s my fault?” he smiles, questioning your statement.

“Yes.” A lie.

“And I’m the reason why you almost failed second semester math?”

“Yes.” Another lie. Wait. “What— how do you even know about that?” You demand, incredulous. Jaehyun just raises his eyebrows and hides his growing grin behind his hand. “Fucking Lee Taeyong.”

He looks overjoyed at your seething, playfully poking out his bottom lip in a mock-frown before getting up and dusting off his pants. Offering a hand to you, Jaehyun uses his strength to pull you to your feet; you’re hyper-aware of the warmth of his palm as your hands linger for a millisecond before he pulls away. 

I’m so screwed, you think to yourself, blinking at the sky with fervor. Shaking your head, you tuck your hand to your side and try not to think of his skin on yours.

“They’re finally done flirting,” he notes with a hum, making an acute observation as you both spy the three other boys heading back to the car, their reluctant forms obvious when you see one girl hold up her hands in a ‘call me’ sign.

Smirking, you skip ahead of Jaehyun before turning back and waving your wallet at him.

“25000 won that we’ll see one of those girls walk out of Tae’s room tomorrow morning,” you chant as Jaehyun jogs to catch up with you. Chuckling, he pushes your wallet away.

“Nah, that man doesn’t give a fuck about the time of day. 25000 that she’s gonna be at your house in twenty,” he counters, snorting when you gag at the thought.

You can’t help but light up at his content face; this feels like this is the first time you’ve ever had a real, honest to goodness, conversation with him as a young adult.

And you’re in trouble, because you think you like it more than you should.

…

“I did it,” Chaewon confesses over the phone, the sound of a knife against a chopping board from her end revealing her current position.

“What,” you inquire, “you finally passed your license test?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Never.” You flash a wicked grin at the sheet music in your hands, shuffling through the never-ending leaflets. 

When Taeyong had said he’d pay you to organize his papers, you clearly weren’t thinking straight enough to be saying yes to this hell. He’s been out for an hour already and not even a third of the pile is sorted through. You slump forward on the couch and shake out your tired hands, groaning when your knuckle hits the coffee table with a painful thump.

“For your information, I don’t need to drive. Hot girls take public transportation,” she retorts with a humph.

“Can’t argue with you there, passenger princess.”

“Oh please, I can literally feel the sarcasm dripping from your voice.”

You laugh, a “you know me, Chae” accompanying the sound ringing out through your empty house. Gathering Taeyong’s work into your arms and dumping the rest on the table, you slide onto the carpeted ground with a sigh. Your bones are overly sore from sitting for too long and the couches seams have made painful, little white imprints on your thighs. With a click of your tongue, you inwardly curse your brother for offering such good deals to a minimum wage paid, about-to-be uni kid, or else you wouldn't be spending a perfectly good Saturday afternoon on whatever this is.

“So,” you prompt, “what did you do this time.”

“Ha,” Chaewon starts.

“I’m scared.”

“Ran into Jaehyun today.”

“Aaand that’s my cue to hang up now,” you sing, slipping the phone between your shoulder and ear, the warm device tucked neatly in the crevice of your neck before you hear the sound of your doorbell ringing out. 

“Wait—”

“Hold on for a sec, Chae. Someone’s at the door.” 

You will yourself to get up from the carpet before making your way over to the front of the house, preparing yourself for a blast of hot summer air to hit you. The silver knob twists under your hand as you swing the door open slowly, expecting the mailman or a delivery on your front porch. Certainly not—

“—Hey.”

Your eyes flick up in surprise.

“Oh shit,” Chaewon whispers over the phone. “That’s not who I think it is, right?”

It’s been a week since you last saw Jaehyun face to face, and your conflicted inner thoughts have been battling in your conscience for the entirety of it. Well, this isn’t great.

“Hi Jaehyun,” you manage to sound out, mentally chastising yourself for sounding so nervous.

“And that’s my cue to hang up now,” the voice at the other end of your call snickers, the long beep of it ending blaring into your ear. 

Your arm drops to your side, phone in hand, as you stare pointedly at Chaewon’s contact info lighting up the screen, her eyes mocking you through her profile picture. Jaehyun lifts an eyebrow as he looks between your phone and your face, seemingly questioning if you’re currently busy through his eyes alone.

“Umm…” your gaze flits around in flusteration, looking just about anywhere but him. “Taeyong’s not home right now, if that’s why you’re here.”

“Oh? Do you know when he’ll be back?” he asks, relaxed as he leans his body against the doorframe.

“He’s picking up stuff from Johnny’s across town, so like,” you glance up at the clock, “an hour? I could uh… call you when he gets back if you want.”

Jaehyun simply pokes his tongue into his cheek in contemplation before tucking his hands into his pockets.

“Nah, it’s okay. I’ll just stay.” With a small smile, he adds on, “if you're okay with that, of course.”

You peer past him to see his shiny black Mustang sitting in front of your house, before returning to your original position and shrugging at the foyer. Losing your shyness momentarily as you let out a puff of air, you follow Jaehyun in before deciding to answer.

“My company is a blessing in itself, isn’t it,” you think out loud, displaying a cheeky smile when Jaehyun turns around to playfully scoff at you.

“Now that’s a sure thing, Y/N.” 

The boy seats himself on one of the kitchen barstools and places his chin in his hand, leaning over the counter to stare at you as you busy yourself with the fridge.

In all honesty, you weren’t prepared to see him again. He’s already been occupying your mind a little too much for your liking during this past week, the idea of his return to your life teetering you on the edge of insanity. You didn’t know high school crushes hit that hard two years later, and it certainly doesn’t help that his golden skin and constellation of tawny freckles have made an almost daily appearance in the Lee household — just like the old times.

“I think we still have that special glass-bottled lemonade from the farmer’s market last weekend, unless,” you pause, sifting through the multitude of items in the ice box. “Yup. Nevermind. Taeyong finished all of them.”

Jaehyun snorts, already familiar with his best friend’s midnight tendencies of clearing out the fridge whenever, wherever.

“We also have water? And um… milk. And Vodka.”

“This sounds like Yuta’s fridge, and that thought alone is like, genuinely terrifying,” Jaehyun observes from behind you. You shake your head, recalling the first time you saw the said boy’s freezer stash of condiments and liquor at a house party a few years ago. Only condiments and liquor.

“Oh! And cold noodles,” you hold up the container with a little shake. “I remember you liking my mom’s version of them,” you mumble quietly, willing yourself to turn around when the cold air from the fridge starts to sting your eyes.

Jaehyun observes you curiously, a question at the tip of his tongue. You remember?

He stops himself from blurting it out when you seat yourself across from him and push the container towards his direction.

“You practically live here anyway. Help yourself,” you say a bit louder, embarrassed about the fact that you remember such a miniscule detail about him.

You squint at the countertop — which you honestly wish would swallow you whole — as Jaehyun moves around you to pour himself a glass of water. His muscles strain against his loose t-shirt as he moves around your kitchen with familiarity, and you turn away with wide eyes when you realize you’ve spaced out while staring at his back.

It’s a situation that younger you would have never imagined; you had simply never been left in a room with him alone. Your brother and his other friends were always there, a subtle reminder of the distance between you two and the fact that he was probably still worlds away.

But you’re an adult now, and it’d be a lie if you said that you don’t want Jaehyun to notice you in that way.

Feelings are too complicated to think about sober. You grimace to yourself, pressing two fingers against your temple as you lean your cheek against the cool, hard marble of the countertop.

“Y/N?” you lift your head up at your name, flinching back in surprise when Jaehyun’s face appears at the edge of your vision, his figure buzzing with excitement as he gapes at you. “This is yours, right?”

Your eyes drift to the black canisters in his palm. My film.

“Oh yeah— wait. I forgot to develop those ones,” you make your way over and take the undeveloped film rolls into your hands, the boy observing you with wide eyes.

“That’s sick. Do you develop them yourself?” 

“Hm? Nah, I bring them to the camera store downtown. Left them in the fridge to preserve for a while so they should be good to go now.”

It’s only when you look up from the canisters that you spy his expression, the pure giddiness painted on his features catching you off guard. Jaehyun’s body language tells you that he is unnervingly thrilled about his new discovery.

“You were never into this kind of stuff when Taeyong and I were still here in high school,” he brings up slowly, letting the words sit on his tongue before following you when you head towards the stairs. “If I had known…” he trails off, pursing his lips to the side so that his notorious dimples show.

You peer at him over your nose bridge curiously. If he had known, he would've what?

Jaehyun pokes his tongue into his cheek and furrows his brows, thinking about the times when he was over at your house after school and you would be nowhere to be seen. Is the dark room where you were, or were you out taking pictures at the rink and shooting short films with your friends? Maybe at the park with your old camcorder and skateboard? The fact that he never knew about so many of your hobbies is almost troubling considering how long he’s known you, and it makes him shift in place. He supposes he never really took the time to know his best friend’s little sister, but looking at you as you stare back, you’re so much more than that. 

Had you always shared so much in common?

“Well, imma go upstairs and watch a movie,” you resume your climb before pointing upward. “You can come up until Tae comes home, if you want?”

The boy glances at the door momentarily, contemplating how Taeyong would react if he found him in his sister’s room. Would he kill me? Maybe.

He shrugs. Fuck it, I could totally beat him in a fight, Jaehyun reasons, smiling to himself. He doesn’t know how he reached that conclusion, but he thinks he’s joking. Mostly.

“The real question is, what’re we watching? If it’s some romcom shit I’m leaving,” Jaehyun raises a challenging brow with his smirk as he follows you nonetheless, hand following yours dangerously close on the wooden handrail.

“Not my problem you’ve got no taste.”

“Oh please,” he rolls his eyes, pushing his body into view as you push open your bedroom door, “I might actually die if I see DiCaprio’s face one more time, and you can’t tell me it’s not you that has all of his movies in the living room cabinet, ‘cause they’re definitely not your brother’s.”

“That seems a bit of a personal issue between you and him, Jaehyun,” you let out a laugh with your words. Turning around to flick on the light switch, you’re met with his face closer than it was before. “What.”

“What?” he repeats, almost mockingly. “Oh, sweetheart. You think this face isn’t DiCaprio level?”

Your face heats up without your consent, flustered at the sudden proximity and the fact that you most definitely think Jaehyun’s better than all of your favorite actors combined. You would never admit that to him for the life of you, though.

You swallow before pushing him lightly, making your way into the center of your bedroom.

“Admit it,” he sings, not giving up as he relentlessly parks himself in front of you with his legs set further apart so that he can look at you at eye level. “I bet even Ji Chang-wook’s got nothing on me.”

“Woah woah woah,” you gasp in offense, throwing a hand up to your chest. “Now that’s crossing the line, buddy. Ji Chang-wook’s got something on everybody.”

“I bet,” Jaehyun drawls out sarcastically, eyes flipping to the ceiling ludicrously slow. He seems to glitch for a few seconds, mouth open but no words coming out. “Especially with the way his face is plastered… on… your ceiling? You fall asleep to that?”

Your eyes widen when you have the sudden realization that Jeong Jaehyun is in your room, in your personal space, looking at your things. And that most certainly includes the poster of Ji Chang-wook next to the plastic stars above your bed, glassy, plastic-y eyes staring down at your ruffley bed sheets and everything. In your defense, it was the result of a lost dare — but he doesn’t know that. Wow, you think to yourself, regretting all of your life decisions, I’m just so good at first impressions.

“Yes,” you give up somewhat dejectedly, offering him a (hopefully) confident smile before pulling a projector from under your bed and setting it up on your bedside table.

Jaehyun just shrugs and seats himself on your bed, muttering a little “cute” that you miss before observing as you give the machine a few good slaps so it’ll turn on. Settling against the wall, he lets his eyes flutter over your decor and multitude of things plastered across every inch of your space. If anything, the way your room’s changed since the last time he was in it gives him an outlook into your life that he wouldn't have known otherwise. 

From the blockbuster movie ads on your door to the unfiltered sunlight reflecting off your mirror, the shoelaces tied around your closet door to the origami threaded around your ceiling fan, he feels like he’s falling. Maybe, just maybe, he even finds a bit of himself in the painted shoe boxes shoved under your desk and your circular record shelf. Even the stars he and Taeyong stuck on years ago are still there too. He recognizes bits and pieces here and there, but thrown together in one place, a cohesive picture forms in front of him. It’s suffocating — in a good way — as if he’s been thrown into the unknown and is hit with a new side of you at full force; everything, everywhere, all at once.

“Ha!” you exclaim, holding out a fist for Jaehyun to bump when your projector flickers on. With a bright grin, you flop onto the bed beside him and wait for the whirring of the projector to start with a hollow click.

The beginning few seconds of the film you’ve chosen roll onto your makeshift movie screen, a white sheet hanging by its threads from your vanity, as the bright images light up your figures with a burning white.

Jaehyun figures out what you’ve done just as a familiar face blurs into view, the moving calligraphy of The Great Gatsby scrawled across your bedroom wall while you poke out your tongue at him, high off of the mere fact that you’ve gotten your way. You hear him let out a defeated sigh from beside you, his knee hitting yours as he settles into your comforter nevertheless.

“Sharp as hell, aren’t you. I should’ve known DiCaprio would show up in my sight sooner or later.”

…

Summer tastes like melted sugar crystals in cherry garcia  — or rather, summer tastes like Mark Lee’s Strawberry-Rouge Extravaganza, the latest, state-of-the-art item on his Record Shop menu. When you ask why the random French is thrown in there, he defends himself adamantly, claiming that his three years of secondary French language classes have practically made him a local.

“It’s like a metaphor for saying, ‘I love you,’” Mark claims with sass, even though you don’t make the connection (“That’s not what a metaphor is…?” you mumble quizzically under your breath). He ignores the weird look you throw at him and goes back to his mixing on the counter of the cashier station. “And it feels like a warm hug, because what better to express that than sparkly, drunk goodness.”

“Wow,” Chaewon deadpans, not even looking up from her nails that she’s painting right next to him. The mix of nail polish and liquor makes you scrunch your nose as you organize the main display, a rotating shelf that headlines Blondie. “You should be a poet. You have such a way with words.”

“I don’t need your negativity in my life, girly.” You almost choke on air when you hear a sharp snap of Chae’s gum in retaliation, her icy glare making Mark wilt under her gaze. 

Their intense, non-verbal argument is saved by the dinging of a customer opening the door to the shop. You whip around to greet them only for your words to die right in your throat. Two silhouettes step in, their tall stature and familiar features blocking the sun from shining through the entranceway.

“…Jaehyun, Jungwoo! How are you guys?” Mark offers when he sees you fall silent.

The two greet happily right back, sliding past you to pat him on the back and exchange handshakes. Jaehyun lingers by your side for a little, holding his fist out for you to tap like you did just the other day in your room.

“We knew we’d find you guys in here,” Jungwoo laments, looking around the shelves before his eyes land on Mark’s… setup. You have to admit, this one looks a bit more pleasant than his past drink recipes, and you can tell that Jungwoo agrees wholeheartedly. His hand lingers on a bottle of sparkling vanilla wine as Mark slices red fruit ardently with a plastic, cafeteria knife. A paper cup holds the rest of his special ingredients: rock candy on wooden sticks, shattered candy hearts, and star-shaped ice cubes. You’d be lying if you didn’t admit that it looked delicious, like something you would order at a beach-side bar. 

Jungwoo seems to find the situation amusing, a trio of barely-adults passing slow, withering days in their own little makeshift paradise. Leaning against the countertop like he’s on the cover of Parisian Vogue, he nicks his baseball cap up a bit higher to look into the three of yours’ eyes better.

“Johnny’s throwing a party.”

That’s all anyone needs to say before Chaewon’s attention is snagged, her eyes gaining an undeniable gleam.

“We’re going,” she speaks for everyone in the room, especially looking you square in the eyes as if saying, you’re not escaping this time, young lady.

“Mhm,” Jaehyun confirms, a hand rubbing at his pulse as he swings an arm over Jungwoo’s shoulders. “A fancy mixer, kinda, the day after tomorrow. We’ll have all the booze, so the only thing you need to bring is yourself.”

“And,” the latter chimes in, “it’s at Johnny’s countryside estate, so y’all can do whatever illegal shit you kids get yourself into without worrying about anything.”

Chaewon lets out a small scoff at his words, mumbling a “we still do here it anyway” under her breath and throwing a knowing look at the alcohol in front of Mark that’s very blatantly in every passerby’s sight.

As Jungwoo relays more information about the plans to them at the front of the shop, Jaehyun turns to follow your path as you diligently place records back in their places in the depths of the store. 

“Do you wear silver or gold?” 

You jump at his appearance out of nowhere, glancing at him with a certain hesitation at his question. Your confusion as to how this topic appeared so suddenly is painted blatantly across your face as you close the last turntable with a click. 

“Why?” You pause. “But both. Depends on my mood.”

“Because this is yours now.”

He reaches into his jeans’ front pocket, pulling out something in his fist before reaching for your hand and dropping a small, plastic ring in the middle of it. 

It’s neon orange and ugly as hell, like something you would find stuck to gum on the underbelly of a school desk. But hey, who are you to complain when Jaehyun looks so pleased at himself as he looks between your face and the ring, trying to gauge your reaction to his surprise gift. And, you’re definitely not complaining when it’s a gift from Jaehyun himself.

“Thank you…? Also,” you squint, picking up the ring to slide onto your pointer finger, “this isn’t silver or gold.” He shrugs half heartedly.

“Sucks to suck.”

You kick the tip of his Converse as he laughs with his whole body, the boy’s deep voice filling the small space. 

“It’s from the coin toy machine outside,” he explains. With a broad grin, he pulls his other hand from out of his pocket and waves it in your face. The whole rainbow has found its home on his fingers, all silly swirls and squiggles of nylon with glued on googly-eyes half falling off.

It’s the pure childish elation you share which makes you unknowingly sink deeper and deeper into the ocean that is Jeong Jaehyun, and you would have felt the metaphorical gasps of air your lungs so desperately need if not for the momentary distractions he provides. 

You suppose all of this is your own doing anyway. 

…

It feels as though Autumn has made a reverse pit-stop in the middle of summer. 

If not obvious by the way the seasonal trees are drooping with a sudden dewy chill, it’s the sudden absence of people in general that serves as a telltale sign. There’s almost no cars on the road, fewer students out and about, and less frequent public transportation. 

The last one in particular really speaks to Jaehyun.

Scrunching his nose at the crisp air, he exits the hole-in-the-wall café he usually frequents when he’s bored, the biting coldness of a mid-August day unfamiliar to him. The boy spent almost the entire day inside; switching between staring at the weather app on his computer and deleting emails from his overflowing inbox for two hours wasn’t the way he thought he’d spend the afternoon, but alas, waiting that long at the crumbling bus stop wasn’t ideal either. He much prefers being warm, caffeinated, and pretending to read a scientific journal than freezing his ass off on a metal bench. 

Anyone would think the same, Jaehyun shrugs to himself… at least until he starts nearing said bench.

Jaehyun stops mid-step when he spots something strange, side-eyeing the undeniably familiar blob crouching at the bus stop approaching on the right.

Why? Well, it's swathed in an oversized hoodie, has a keychain-ful backpack hanging low on its shoulders, and is suspiciously Y/N-shaped.

And if that doesn’t tell him anything, well, the way your eyes go comically wide when you turn to the right and coincidentally meet gazes with Jeong Jaehyun of all people definitely does. It’s the way he’s standing there like a runway model with his hood over his head, dimples on full show as he raises his eyebrows at you and his expensive-looking leather bag hanging off of one shoulder that almost causes you to fall over. Luckily, you pull yourself together before something embarrassing happens, like losing your balance and crashing into the road (not that it’s happened before, of course…). You’re well aware that you tend to get distracted easily, and you’re definitely in trouble because that man is one hell of a distraction.

Getting up quickly and dusting the invisible dust off your legs, you offer him an embarrassed wave as he approaches you.

“How long have you been sitting there? It’s fucking cold outside,” Jaehyun calls out, concerned, glancing down at your skirt and the way you hide your hands in your hoodie sleeves. Sidling up next to you, he bounces on the balls of his feet a little before stuffing his own hands in his pockets.

“It’s okay,” you smile down at the way your shoes match next to his on the sidewalk, “I’m used to the bipolar weather. Plus, it’s not that cold when you’ve got these!” Tucking your lip between your teeth, you rustle around in your sweater-paws before popping out your hands proudly in front of you. Nestled in your palms are old hand warmers, their heat fading but worth their purpose nonetheless.

“Only you would have hand warmers in stock during the middle of summer, Y/N,” he shakes his head in disbelief, but the smile threatening to take over his face makes his eyes crinkle up in amusement.

“Mhm,” you say, distracted as you see the bus pull up to the sidewalk from down the road, “I’ve got a whole box in my backpack. Who knows, maybe an ice storm will hit one day and I’ll be the only one with hands while everyone else’s freeze off.” 

He pauses in place, speechless at your comment. You simply shrug at him, as if saying that’s the way life goes, before nodding to the bus driver and climbing up the vehicle’s steps. “Don’t worry, I’d share mine with you.”

Jaehyun lets out a breath in disbelief. 

Your attitude is truly refreshing, and he can’t even begin to describe what a breath of clean air it is to talk to you everyday; he’s used to girls coming up to him with hidden intent, their eyes tinged with lust as they disguise their interest with false pretenses and flowery words. Flattery is what it began with, but after years of receiving nothing from their end while he found himself aimlessly hoping for someone genuine and it was disappointing that he couldn’t find even one. He’d wish they would just treat him normally and act like themselves, a person not afraid to be genuine with him and let their inner child show. 

It’s as he observes the way you hum as you climb up and give a playful salute to the driver that he realizes you’re the perfect balance of both, the maturity in you shining admirably at the times when it is needed while never acting like something you’re not.

Jaehyun blinks at your figure before tugging on your arm to move around you, swiping his bus pass twice before you can even register what’s happened. He lets a smug grin take over his face before pulling you to the back of the bus and plopping down beside you.

“Thank you for paying for me,” you tilt your head at him, tucking your card back into your pocket. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to, though.”

You give him a grateful smile before remembering something that you had meant to show him, pulling out the walkman you found in your grandmother’s cellar yesterday from your backpack, a dusty old thing that still works perfectly fine. Looping its built-in headphones around your neck, you tilt the player towards him before offering him the small device. Turning it around in his hands, he gapes in undeniable awe as he taps the plastic cover with intrigue. 

You knew he’d like it.

“I haven’t seen one of these in so long. Whose grave did you raid to get this, the hell?”

“Found it yesterday in my grandparent's cellar, and before Taeyong got his hands on it. I thought that you’d find it interesting so I was planning on showing you later this week, but hey, look who I happened to run into today.”

He simply shakes his head before bringing the machine up to his eyes and popping open its cover, a finger coming up to trace the dust out of the inside of it.

“Do you have a cassette to put in it or…?” he begins, looking up at you. You shake your head. “We can go to the vintage shop downtown later to get you some, if you want.”

“Really? You’ll go with me?”

“Yeah, Y/N. You’ve always got the coolest things to play around with, and we can go shove this in Yong’s face too. He’s gonna be so jealous.”

“You just wanna annoy my brother,” you snort, nudging his arm.

“You’ve got me there.” He holds up his hands in mock surrender before poking his tongue inside his cheek, eyebrows furrowing in thought. “Or… I could make you a personalized mixtape?” Your jaw drops comically, no words coming out of your mouth as you just stare at him.

“Are you being serious right now?”

“So, so serious.”

“If you did, I would actually lose my mind,” you finally close your mouth in amazement. “You’d probably be my favorite person ever.”

“Well, then that would be well worth it. I’ll work on it when I’m back in the studio at uni,” Jaehyun smiles genuinely, handing you your walkman back before swinging his leather bag back onto his shoulder as the bus pulls to a halt. With a parting pat on your shoulder, he mouths a goodbye before descending the aisle.

“This is my stop. See you at the party, Y/N.”

… 

When you had received the call on a quiet Saturday afternoon from Mark that he and Chaewon would be leaving earlier to help set up for Johnny’s weekend party — the one that Jungwoo and Jaehyun had only told you about just a few days prior — the possibility of not having a ride to bring you hadn’t even struck yet. You were too busy thanking your friends that they had granted you two more hours for an afternoon nap, and an extra 60 minutes to get ready; a truly ideal day in your opinion. 

It’s only when you’ve given yourself a final look in the mirror, admiring the new dress that you’ve donned at the last minute, do you hear the undeniable honk of a car outside. Brushing aside the curtains and trying to get your eyes to focus in the dark, you make a noise of panic when you spy Jaehyun’s car outside your house. 

What’s he doing here?

You'd spent far more time with Jaehyun in the past few days than you have in your entire lifetime, running small errands with him when Taeyong's not there and browsing through retro stores in nearby towns for old cassettes. With every hour more spent together, it felt like you were getting closer to knowing his feelings, and that in itself excited you to no end. He'd end every drive together with a knowing look and some sort of physical touch, and each goodbye left you in anticipation for the next time you'd see him.

Sprinting down the stairs and grabbing your shoes as fast as you can, you rush out into the street where the Mustang’s tinted windows prevent any passerby from making out any faces from the outside. 

As you approach the driver’s side, the window rolls down to reveal the owner of the car. 

“Hey,” Jaehyun grins at you, his pupils dilated and the faint smell of smoke lingering on his breath. 

It feels like forever since you’ve seen him, even if it’s only been a few hours since you last saw each other. You can feel your head fog up when you fully take in his appearance; with his hair slicked back and his button-up undone to reveal sharp collarbones and a dangling, silver cross, he looks godly as the moonlight basks him in a paper-white glow. 

“Chaewon and Mark had to stay later to help set up more and Taeyong’s been pregaming since six, so he sent me to pick you up. You can get in the back.”

You hum in understanding before climbing into the backseat, tucking your hands under your thighs before looking up at the front of the car. 

Your heart drops. 

“Hi,” the girl in the shotgun seat lilts, her bleached hair falling into wavy ringlets against Jaehyun’s leather seats. “Y/N, right? I remember you! You’re Yongie’s baby sis.”

You itch to fill the silence that follows, even though you assume she would have no trouble clearing it with her well-known, extroverted dynamic. There’s an unnamed tension in the car between the two people in the front seat, and it’s so intense that you could cut it with a knife.

You take shallow breaths, not sure what to make of your position. I’m sitting in a car with my crush and his former situationship— holy. How did we get to this point? She’s literally—

“—Lim Sae-mi,” you attempt to give her a genuine smile, flashing your teeth in what you pray isn’t an awkward expression. 

Saemi simply twinkles in the rear view mirror, her delicately painted lips stretching up before she twists around to observe you. 

“You do remember me! Look at how pretty you are too,” she exclaims, reaching back to pat down a strand of your hair, her voice laced with sticky sweetness. “You could be a model, just like Yongie. And your hair is so healthy, I’m jealous. Isn’t her hair so so nice, Jae?”

Jaehyun snaps to attention at the mention of his name, seeming to be in some sort of haze with the way he looks like he’s holding his breath for as long as humanly possible. 

“Yeah.” You find yourself wilting in the slightest at his monotone voice. Looking out the window as he starts driving towards the outskirts of town, you try not to let yourself be too disappointed at the way he loses such distinctive qualities when around the girl sitting next to him. 

Jaehyun freezes up when Saemi turns to him all doe-eyed, flashbacks flitting through his mind of the days when he’d anticipate the moments he’d see her again when they were younger. Strangely enough, the effect that she used to have on him — palpitating heart, nervous ticks, rosy cheeks, uncanny attraction — seems to have dissipated. Now, highschool-Jaehyun seems so far away, and their memories even further.

What’s changed?

“Um,” you start as you watch suburban lights zoom by less and less frequently, your brain working just as fast to eliminate some of the weird, awkward tension happening in the car. You don’t really know enough to make conclusions, but something must have happened in the past for them to react to each other like this. “How’s SNU? Do you guys run into each other often on campus?”

Jaehyun chuckles lowly, a tinge of uncertainty lining his tone as he waits for Saemi to answer your question. 

“Right, you’re going to uni next year right? Hmm… we don’t really see each other on campus at all, now that I think about it,” she simpers, frowning at the road in front of her before brightening up in less than a second. “But that's because Jae’s so busy, preparing to be a future doctor and all. He was always the smartest one out of all of us.”

You watch as he falls silent, knuckles tightening on the steering wheel as his jaw clenches ever so slightly.

“Hey, we should catch up sometime Jae,” she adds on with a tone like she doesn’t really mean it before turning her gaze to him, tacking on a noise of agreement with herself as if she's already decided that they will. 

She knows they won’t.

You watch their eyes meet briefly before Jaehyun breaks it to turn the steering wheel left onto a never-ending stretch of a lone, empty road.

Saemi’s a hard person to figure out. You know that she’s charming when she wants to be and firm when she needs to be, but you also know from Taeyong that she has a personality she can flip on and off like a switch; it’s almost as if mind games with the people around her are amusing, and it’s up to the other person to figure out what her true intentions are. It’s understandable why so many people find her alluring. 

Glancing up at the back of her head once more, you observe as she leans back with a faint frown before swallowing something in her hand that looks like a bottled shot. She looks uncomfortable as she shifts in her seat every few minutes, and you’re not sure if she’s more put off by the alcohol or by Jaehyun. Your guess would be the latter, even if her voice makes it seem like she’s the most confident person in the world.

You don’t even attempt to start another conversation, instead opting to roll down the window so that you can watch empty land flash by, an occasional plant breaking the smooth ground. The car picks up speed on its own with no other vehicle in sight, the only light coming from the rising crescent moon and a solo gas station situated further down the road.

The three of you perk up as you approach the oil refill and the only other car at the station, a big pick-up with dressed-up figures leaning out of its windows and sitting around the back cargo bed. You assume they’re heading to the same place you are with the way they all shout at each other as they pass a dark bottle back and forth. A boy gets out of the driver’s seat to walk over to Jaehyun’s car and lean through Saemi’s side of the window, shades pushed up into his hair and beads and cuban links dangling out of his shirt. You don’t recognize him, but you’re not surprised when Johnny knows just about every young person in the world.

“Jaehyun, man! And Saemi, damn, I haven’t seen you guys in a while. Headed to Johnny’s?” he exclaims with a loud voice and wide smile, reaching in to pat a long-lost friend on the shoulder. Just like that, the extroverted Jaehyun and Saemi are back, conversing with him as if their awkward energy and off demeanors didn’t just dictate the ride over. 

The guy notices you in the back when your eyes meet accidentally, both of you taken aback.

“And who might this be?” He smirks at you, gaze never leaving yours as he directs the question to the other two in the car. You smile back just to be friendly, but with the way he’s staring at you, you’re not sure if that’s the right way to go about things.

“Lee Taeyong’s sister,” Jaehyun speaks up, glimpsing back at you with an unreadable look. A look of recognition flashes over the stranger’s face as his mouth opens in surprise.

“So this is the sister. Shit, is that why I’ve never seen her around?”

“Yeah.” There’s a bitter undertone to his voice, expression faltering before he raises his eyebrows with a smile. “And that’s why she’s off limits, man. I know that look all too well.”

You look at your brother’s friend in question, leaning forward, but Jaehyun doesn’t even glance at you. Both of you know that Taeyong isn’t really the overly protective type, so why would he say that? Maybe he knows that this guy is bad news, so he’s warning me. You nod to yourself, satisfied with your quick thinking. That sounds about right.

You’re about to offer a comment yourself, but you’re stopped by a—

“Lim Saemi! No fucking way, is that really you?” another shrill voice calls from across the expanse of the gas station, a former classmate stalking across the black cement in teetering heels as she waves dramatically at the girl in front of you. “It is you! I can’t believe we ran into you like this, you gotta join the party truck now!”

Saemi seems to recognize her, waving dramatically out the window to her friend. In a matter of seconds, the girl has pulled her out of Jaehyun’s car as she laughs at her friend’s antics of tugging on her wrist to string her along, drunk. Saemi throws you and Jaehyun a look that seems to say everything and nothing at the same time; if you were to interpret it in your own language, it would spell out: So sorry I’m ditching you guys! I love both of you to pieces but I’d honestly rather drink bleach than get back in that car. Hope you understand. Muah.

And with that, you watch Saemi switch cars in a matter of moments. The boy follows them back to their chaotic ride to Johnny’s after waving goodbye at Jaehyun, who’s watching them without any emotion bleeding through his stoic face. You can’t even begin to guess what's going through his mind as his eyes flick back to his dashboard, spaced out.

You pause.

“...and then there were two.”

Biting your bottom lip when you realize you mumbled that out loud, and you’ve genuinely never wanted to be six feet under more because the man hasn’t even said a word since she left you two.

Jaehyun freezes at your voice, almost as if he forgot you were in the car. Letting out an airy laugh after a moment, your shoulders relax when you sense that his weird, Saemi-caused demeanor has faded with her sudden absence.

“Wanna move to the front? It’s lonely up here.” You perk up at his belated response, excitedly getting out of the back to slide into the shotgun seat at his invitation. The man next to you seems to visibly relax, stomach releasing and shoulders drooping with less tension as he starts the car and turns back onto the stretch of empty road. 

The silence doesn’t bother you this time when Saemi’s absent; it’s pleasant and full, as if both of you needed this momentary break from nonstop life to collect yourself. Staring at the dust picking up along the wheels while the needle on the speedometer rises up and up, you find the scene before you therapeutic in unexplainable ways.

Jaehyun feels the same, his eyes spacey as one hand rests languidly on the steering wheel with ingrained muscle memory. The vehicle coasts past blank acres and rolling hills, the burning moon engaging in hide-and-seek as it appears and disappears behind their peaks. He doesn’t even feel the need to turn up the stereo as he usually does when your audible, light breaths are sufficient enough. It’s comforting in ways he didn’t know he needed.

You recognize how close you are to Johnny’s estate when you see the road before you thin into dirt and pebbles, a grandiose silver gate barely visible in the far distance. Behind the gate is the unmistakable gleam of polished stone, no doubt the road that leads up to the party and an onslaught of cars. If you concentrate hard enough, your mind can even conjure up the deep bass of the music that the host prefers at his mixers, their heavy resonance flowing through the thick soil to the bottom of Jaehyun’s car and all the way up to the soles of your feet.

You’re just about to point your strange observance out when Jaehyun makes a sudden swerve, pulling off to an edge of mangled weeds and tree roots, the car rolling to a shuttering stop just before a barren field of dead plants. Your body lurches forward a bit with the movement, the boy apologizing profusely when he sees you adjust your seatbelt with confusion written all over your expression.

“Fuck, sorry sorry sorry,” he mumbles, moving his hand in front of you as if you could fall out of your seat at any minute. “I just… the stars are stunning right now, we gotta stop for a sec. You don’t mind if we…”

He trails off, distracted, as he pulls the car door open hastily, rushing out to take in the night sky in its full glory. It’s as if he doesn’t move fast enough, the stars will pull a disappearing stunt on him.

It’s endearing to see Jaehyun like this, a smile subconsciously finding its way onto your face when you spot him bouncing on the balls of his feet lightly. His eyes are completely enamored with the sight above him, neck craned up at an odd angle to see everything; from the way his fingers dig into his palms in excitement to the cold flush on his cheeks from the biting evening chill, it’s like he doesn’t know what to do with himself when encountering such a beautiful product of mother nature. 

The thought of Johnny’s party evaporates from both of your minds as you find yourself mirroring Jaehyun’s position. 

After a few minutes of stillness, he looks at you with the very stars from the sky in his eyes.

“Can we stay here for a bit?”

He beams at your “of course” before hoisting himself onto the cool hood of his Mustang and offering a hand out for you to grab. Pulling you up onto the spot beside him with a huff, he pulls your wrist to shift your body closer to his before smiling contently to himself. 

You try not to let your mind spiral at his warm touch, instead focusing your attention on the blanket of constellations that greet you from the inky stretch of night sky. The cold metal of the hood cools your burning skin as your legs stretch out in front of you, skin ghastly as your arms support your weight from behind you.

When he hears your faint intake of breath, Jaehyun allows his eyes to leave the pretty view above him to the pretty view beside him for a few seconds, letting them linger on your side profile as you stare up in awe. They fall from the slope of your nose to the open curve of your lips, circling around your neck and raking over the ornate gems decorating your skin. You’re breathtaking in 1001 ways, and it’s such a pressing realization that he blinks away in shock when your gaze suddenly meets his. 

“Do you do this often?”

“When I need to get away for a bit. All of my best ideas come to me at night, I think. There’s just something about darkness and non-artificial light which is curiously inspiring.”

You nod, leaning back on the windshield and resting your head against its glass. Nighttime lets you think in the abstract, where the shadows don’t take shape and remind you to think in a direct and methodical way. 

“I get that,” you empathize. “After Taeyong left, I used to climb onto my roof after dark and just sit there alone for hours. I wouldn’t know how much time had passed until I got back into my room, and to be honest, that was my favorite time of the day. It took my mind off things, even if it was only for a few hours.”

“You know, Yong and I used to do that when we were younger. You were too little to remember I think, but we’d go up after your parents fell asleep and throw basketballs down the side of your house to see how far they would bounce up… we probably hit your window too a few times. Only a few.”

“That was you?” you jut, incredulous.

“Oh, so she does remember,” Jaehyun laughs under his breath, playfully avoiding eye contact when you scoff at your brother and his' antics. “Anyway, I wanna go up there again someday.”

“Our roof? I’ll bring you.”

Jaehyun turns to face you.

“Promise? I’m counting on it, Lee.”

You don’t hide your bashful smile this time, looking away when the boy flashes his dimples at you. Your insides flood with warmth as you secretly bring the back of your hand up to feel your cheek, scared of its betrayal of your feelings. 

Jaehyun sighs, content, after a few moments, his neck lolling at the joint to stargaze once again. He feels entirely relaxed at this moment; there’s nothing that Mother Nature can’t fix. 

“History revolved around looking at the stars and just talking, you know? I wish I could stay here forever and never grow up.” 

You tilt your head curiously.

“Why, you don’t like being an adult?”

“Not that,” he shakes his head. “It’s more of, I pretend to be collected and mature and all-knowing, but the feeling of having no control over life magnifies as I get older. My head and heart haven’t grown up fast enough to catch up.”

“Jaehyun.”

“Hm?”

“You don’t ever have to pretend. It’s… it’s okay to not know what you’re doing or what the future looks like, and it’s okay to let yourself go at times too. Being an adult doesn’t mean always knowing the right things to do or figuring out every little detail right now,” your words stumble a bit as they spill out, but he seems to catch onto every word perfectly. “I’m scared too, so it’s kinda ironic that I’m giving you this advice when I can’t follow it myself.”

“We can trade words of wisdom,” Jaehyun offers more lightheartedly. “It’s so much easier to give advice to other people than to yourself.” You can’t think of a better way to phrase it than that. 

“And I think simply moving forward with what you can muster is the best we can do,” you add on. Jaehyun just stares at you as you talk, chin in his palm as he takes in your advice with sincerity. “Things will just come and go naturally as we go on.”

“You’re right. Time tells, Y/N. And frankly, you’re so much more mature than me.”

“Me?” You frown, surprised at the fact that he thinks you are. “That’s so strange to hear, because I feel like I’ll never be independent in the way that you and Tae are. Even though we’re not that far apart in age, I’ve always thought you guys were from a different galaxy, like fear wasn’t a word in your dictionary and maturity has always just come naturally.”

“It’s all in the way we carry ourselves, but maturity itself doesn’t come from this,” Jaehyun waves his hand around to outline your body in an imaginary circle, “but from this.” You watch as he taps a purposeful finger against your temple. “And you have more of it than anyone my age. You have a mind that people would die for, and I think that’s something to be very proud of.”

The wind whistles soundly as the two of you take in the world with new perspectives, sitting up a little straighter and legs just barely touching as he moves closer without even noticing. You don’t say anything for a while, and you don’t need to. He recognizes how you need a few minutes to let his words soak in, and that’s what makes you so you. Jaehyun knows you won’t just take his words on a whim and forget them ten minutes later; you’re the kind of person that internalizes everything he says with genuine feeling and gratefulness, and that quality is what makes you, in his opinion, celestial. 

“You always know just what to say,” you finally whisper, and he almost doesn’t catch it.

You receive no reply except for the most adoring look in his eyes as he smiles fondly at you. The breeze blows wisps of your hair around your face, and Jaehyun can’t help it when he reaches out to tuck a stray strand behind your ear. His fingers linger — longingly, if you dare say — before he makes himself pull away.

You’re scared to let yourself believe that you might have a chance this time; everything floods back and hits your heart at full power, and you think that your newfound connection you’ve found with the boy over this summer has trumped all of your past memories. Your feelings are fragile, and the way he looks at you is terrifying. He makes your heart race violently; your feelings from when you were fifteen don’t even compare.

“It’s too chilly for a summer month,” he speaks up suddenly, rubbing his arms and trying to lighten the mood. You shake your mind out of its storm of complicated emotions before offering a small smile back.

“Always speaking the truth, aren’t you?” You tease, playing with the hem of your short dress. Jaehyun makes a noise of agreement before a boyish grin stretches across his face. 

“Yeah, which is why Leonardo DiCaprio is not—”

“—UH,” You stop him mid sentence, shushing him. “Let’s not finish that sentence.”

“—peak acting which is why—”

“La la la lala,” you sing, covering your ears with your hands childishly and squinting so that you don’t have to see Jaehyun raising an eyebrow at you, amused. “I can’t hear youu.”

“I take back the part about you being more mature than me.” Only one boy is capable of making your moods flip like this, and he’s sitting right next to you as your laughs ring out in tandem through the night. 

Eventually, after a few more back-and-forths under the dark sky, Jaehyun takes it upon himself to teach you some astronomical terms. You doubt you’ll remember them, but he promises he’ll make it easy for you to hold in your mental library.

“You need to be prepared,” he stresses, “if you’re gonna come with me next time.”

“Next time… stargazing?”

“Yup,” he answers matter-of-factly. “Let’s see… there’s a triangle of importance in my opinion. The true triune, holy grail of astronomy.”

You watch him sink into his element, musing upon the milky way above.

“Stars,” he air-traces the Orion constellation slowly. “Moons,” he continues, moving his arm in front of you to point at the claw of the silver crescent moon. Jaehyun lets his hand fall, the tip of his finger grazing your skin in the slightest as it hovers in front of your heart. “And celestial bodies.” 

…

You mentally prepare yourself to get an earful from Chaewon as the drive up to Johnny’s resumes…

…two hours late.

In your defense, it wasn’t completely your fault. Jaehyun says you can blame it on him when she throws her fit at you being late — and boy, do you know she will — but you also know that when you recount what happened to cause your tardiness, she’ll excuse it. Partially. Maybe even throw in a sushi dinner and smoke sesh, then all of your sins would be forgiven in her book.

You try to distract yourself from Jaehyun’s sweet actions just a few minutes earlier by thinking about where you might find Chaewon and Mark when you get there; maybe the drink-stocked kitchen, where Mark will surely be… or outside, where people like Chaewon usually go with their ziploc bags and scratched-up lighters.

Where would Jaehyun go?

You groan inwardly when you catch your brain drifting to the idea of the man next to you once again, said man driving with a dopey expression on his face as Johnny’s estate comes into full view. You can’t tell if it’s because of a well-needed down-time with the stars (and time with you, if you dare to think optimistically) or because it looks like there’s strobe lights flashing out of every window of the ground floor—

“—holy shit, they really went all out,” Jaehyun gapes, hands slacking on the steering wheel as you both take in the scene before you. “Johnny’s fucking insane. Maybe even like, should-be-checked-into-a-facility insane.”

Your eyes widen as the building unfurls itself before you, a mansion so grand that it’s comparable to Gatsby’s in every way. It’s got a certain vintage charm to it, something you assume Johnny’s parents built in homage to their roots with veiny, marbled stairs and towering Roman columns. The chaos that’s happening in and around the home itself, however, is a different story. You can see the drunk bodies already as they move around to invisible music, and waves of people climb spiral staircases up to the upper levels as they fumble drinks around. Silhouettes of the party-goers are littered across the vast, arched windows, stone trims decorating their sills with impeccable detail; the estate is truly a needle that shines brilliantly in a haystack of country homes, the nearest house being a whole 20 minute drive away. You’d been to his countryside home only once with Taeyong when you were younger, but seeing it in all its glory during the nighttime is a whole different experience.

“Nah,” you grin when he puts the car into park behind a train of assorted automobiles that cover the driveway. “He's that special kind of chaebol-insane. I propose not eating the rich, because what would the world be without Johnny Suh.”

Jaehyun simply chuckles lightly before getting out of the car and walking around to your side, opening the door before helping you out. You’d be lying if you said that the butterflies in your stomach didn’t just seize at his actions.

But nothing good lasts forever.

Just as soon as the butterflies come, they die off when you notice the immediate, uncanny switch in Jaehyun’s disposition.

You’re not sure if it’s the deafening bass-boosted music flooding into the air or the multitude of bodies in front of the house alone as the two of you approach the open door, but he seems to be pushed into a different element the closer you get. You recognize it as the one that you’d only heard of in high school, the one who frequented house parties on school nights with your brother, the one who shone in a room full of people, the infamous heartbreaker Jaehyun.

You can see the shift in his eyes, the way his pupils dilate slowly as they gain that undeniable gleam. You can feel his muscles lose a tension you didn’t even know was there, especially when he swings his arm around your shoulders casually, letting his hand rest against your collarbone. You can hear the calls of his wicked name already from both females and males alike, their shouts pulling him away from you as multiple people are drawn to him right away.

You recognize a few of them, hometown names that make their presence known as they clap Jaehyun on the back and reach out for intoxicated hugs. It’s also now that you realize the sheer amount that the boy you practically grew up with — the very one who spent his school day afternoons playing in your living room — changes when with other people. His popularity was never a mystery to you, but seeing it in person like this… he acts like he’s finally at home. A true socialite who flourishes when surrounded by people.

And you would never hold that against anyone, except until—

“Hey, Y/N, I’ll catch up with you later, okay? Promise.”

Ah.

His voice rings out flippant and unfamiliar, arm slipping from your shoulders like deadweight, and his fingers don’t linger on your skin longingly this time. Without looking back, he’s swept away by a myriad of high school friends as they drag him off to only God knows where. They hand him drinks and jostle around with each other between heated bodies, his silver rings glinting under the lights as he throws his head back for a bitter shot.

You watch as their forms retreat into the depths of the party until the shadows swallow him up and your eyes can’t follow him anymore. 

Left to hover awkwardly by yourself at the door of Johnny’s house with no drink in hand and a bewildered twist in your expression, suddenly, all the moments that have led up to now feel like a fever dream. Everything just happened so fast. One minute he’s next to you, and you’re sure you’ve fallen again. Hard. And the next moment he’s gone with the wind, like a figment of a dream flickering in and out of consciousness. Sure, you hadn’t expected to spend the whole night with him, but you thought that after your many little talks he would want to stay with you a little longer than three seconds.

At least he promised to find you later, but you’re still left feeling unsure about where you stand with him in contrast to the bubbling feeling of affection you had felt earlier in the night. The way he acts is giving you emotional whiplash.

I have to find Chaewon and Mark, you think to yourself suddenly, trying to shake your head of Jaehyun-related thoughts. The way he’s plagued your thoughts far too many times these past few months terrifies you, and it feels like you’ve lost your mind for real this time. You’re charged with a new determination to not think about the boy until he comes back to you himself. It’s not worth ruining your night over maybe’s.

Weaving through sweaty figures and waving instinctually at the people who happen to recognize you, you find yourself in a sort of trance as you strain to catch a glimpse of one of your friends. The bass-boosted music fills your ears with a heavy buzz as you make your way through what feels like hundreds of people.

A cold hand abruptly reaches out to grasp your wrist when you approach the closed off kitchen, causing you to cautiously glance back at its owner with your other arm ready to push them off.

“Babe, what are you doing here all alone?”

You jump slightly before giving him a childish slap on his arm as a grinning Mark reaches out to embrace you, and the strong smell of twisted tea pungent on his breath. His hand comes up to tuck your head into his neck familiarly, an old habit from when you were young that tends to come out in his drunk endeavors.

“You scared me,” you mumble into his shirt, voice muffled by the fabric. “I was trying to find you, but there’s literally thirty million people in this damn house.”

Feigning hurt, Mark pulls away to put a hand to his heart. “You can’t recognize me from a house away?” His sarcasm makes you squint at him, your hand reaching out to tug him along with you.

“No, Mark. I actually can’t recognize you from a house away,” you bite back, mumbling an extra, “surprisingly too, because I could probably hear your loud-ass laugh from another country if I really wanted to.”

“Literally shut up.”

“Never. Come find Chaewon with me?”

“I-” Mark sighs, giving in to your pleading eyes. What can he say, he has a self-destructive soft spot for his best friend. “Fine. But only if you get her to play one of the drinking games with me, ‘cause you never want to,” he tsks. You offer him an innocent smile before turning towards the back balcony. Gripping Mark’s arm tightly as the two of you make your way through clusters of people, you glance back every so often to make sure he’s still with you. You don’t want to be left alone again.

Again. Like Jaehyun just did when he said he wanted to spend time with me…

He seems to sense your uneasiness when you pause for a moment to look down, the fluorescent lights that lead to the back glass doors making your eyes sting as your fingers tighten their grip on his wrist. 

“Hey hey hey,” the boy pauses to move in front of you with worry creasing his brows. “You good?”

You blink away from him, mumbling an unsure “yeah,” before clearing your throat. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just got dizzy for a sec.”

Mark puts his hands on your shoulders carefully, eyes scanning the way your face looks more apprehensive than usual and your head isn’t held just as high as the Y/N he knows would. He’s had almost his entire life to study your moods and the rises and falls of your expressions, and he knows that something heavy is bothering you to the point where you’re letting him see it bleed through your normal, carefree facade. It’s something serious, and he also knows you’re not gonna tell him until you’re ready.

So for now, he simply smooths down any invisible tensions in your arms and straightens your posture for you like he would in your younger school days, gentle and nimble fingers adjusting the straps of your dress like a parent figure would. 

“I like this number on you. You should wear it more often.” 

“Thank you,” you smile gratefully at him, forcing your feet to move forward once again. It's not unusual for Mark to compliment you, but it feels particularly comforting tonight after so much of your confidence in yourself has been built up and torn down in a matter of hours.

You don’t let your gaze take in anyone except a potential Chaewon as the two of you finally make it outside, scared of potentially seeing someone you don’t want to see. Out of the corner of your eye, Mark gestures animatedly to the lit up garden, far fewer people mingling in its flowering, winding paths than inside. 

“Oh! Chaewon’s right there,” he pushes you lightly in her direction, a poised figure leaning, relaxed, on one of the ivy-slinked marble balconies. “I’m not gonna go far, but I’ll get some drinks from the kitchen for us and be right back, okay? I won’t leave you guys for long.” You’re silent for a moment.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Why are you sorry, Y/N? You’ve done nothing wrong, but whoever or whatever’s bothering you should feel ashamed for making you apologize for nothing,” he chastises immediately, indignant towards the fact he has an inkling of who’s made you feel this way. It pains him to see his best friend hurt silently.

You nod before he gives you one last pat and nudges you in the direction of Chaewon. She turns on her heel just as Mark leaves, face lighting up when she spots your form heading in her direction.

“Took you long enough!” She calls out over with a hand reaching out for you, her other occupied by a flute of some mysterious fizzy liquid. “I’ve been waiting so that we can try the colorful shots in Johnny’s fridge together. I know you secretly like those.”

You snap yourself out of your thoughts before managing a grateful smile as she pulls you into a side hug. “Sorry, the uh… drive took longer than anticipated,” you mumble, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. 

“Who’d you come with again? I feel so bad that we couldn’t pick you up, but the setup literally took the living energy out of me.”

You bite your lip nervously, eyes flicking to the night sky in reassurance.

“I came with— I came with Jaehyun,” you spit out quietly, already predicting her reaction in your head. 

“Damn, for real? I told your brother to call one of your other friends, but this is so much better. Did you guys get time to talk or what?” Chaewon lifts her drink to her lips as she waits with wide eyes, anticipating an answer that you know you can’t give her. If anyone has always rooted for the possibility of him liking you back, it’s her. 

“I don’t know,” you finally whisper, giving up as you tug your fingers through your hair. “It’s just… he’s a confusing person. Like yeah, we talked, but I can’t figure him out at all. He goes back and forth from being the closest I’ve ever felt to a boy to an almost distant stranger in a matter of seconds.”

Your friend’s face falls at your words, clearly noting how much you’re beginning to get stressed out over him. It kills her to see anything but a smile on your face, and the fact that it’s because of someone who you’ve pined over for so long is detrimental to watch. 

“Y/N…” 

���It’s fine. I’m making a big deal out of nothing, probably.” Your voice cracks slightly in the middle of the sentence, but you mask it with a quiet laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a real chance with him to begin with, so try not to expect much.” Chaewon’s bitter smile reflects her inner confliction as she reaches out to take your hand in hers.

“Stop, don’t think like that,” she mutters. 

“But don’t worry, there’s still,” you whisper, putting your pointer finger and thumb up to approximate the size of the tiny moon in the sky above you, “a little hope. There’s always been.”

You nod to yourself, almost like a subtle reassurance. You’ve always had faith and confidence in your own feelings, and a little hope has never killed you. If anything, it’s brought you closer to Jaehyun than you’ve ever been, and getting to know him in ways that you were never able to has been a silver lining in itself. Just maybe… deep down, not in the way you know you wish you had.

“I love how you’re always been so sure of what you want,” Chaewon confesses. It’s both a blessing and a curse. “But tonight’s about having fun, okay? No use wasting time on a boy that can’t get his own shit straight.”

With a giggle, she pulls you towards the house once again. “I want to see you get wasted. His name is not allowed as far as I’m concerned.”

“Jaehyun’s name…?” 

“Who?”

You shake your head with a smile as she feigns confusion with an innocent expression. I don’t deserve my friends, you think to yourself, heart warming at how much they try to make you feel better.

“Come on, Y/N. Look around at all the people,” she laughs out in the tone of a true socialite as she tugs you towards where most of the partygoers are congregated, littered across every corner with their short dresses and sweaty skin. Noticing that your mouth is still tinged with a hint of apprehensiveness, she stops in her tracks and turns to you. “You’re telling me that you’re gonna let him do this to you? This night is for us, not waiting for a stupid boy that’s had the chance of a decade to love on you, pretty girl.”

She fiddles with your dress and smoothing down its invisible wrinkles as you nod along with her, mind willing itself to focus on yourself and your friends instead of—

Right. He doesn’t exist right now.

“And you look so good right now that anyone would be stupid not to feel lucky for having your attention,” she affirms, shiny hair tumbling under fluorescent lights as she beams at you. You can’t help but wrap your arms around her, the comfort of her mere presence and consoling words making your heart burn. 

“Love you, Chae. I think we should just date instead,” you mumble into her shoulder, her signature, bright laughter ringing out at your words. 

Her eyes brighten even more when she spots Mark appearing back behind you with entire bottles of liquor in his hands.

“Where the hell did you get those, my god,” she ooh and aah’s at him as your face lights up at the appearance of the boy.

“Johnny’s hidden stash in one of the guest bedrooms. He thinks he’s slick,” he snorts, putting a finger up in a shushing motion when Chaewon gasps dramatically. When you giggle at your best friend’s antics, he turns to look at you with a hint of worry on his face. 

You seem to have cheered up a bit since he left you to get drinks, but he also knows how good at hiding your true feelings you are. From poker faces to fake laughs, you’ve got it all under your belt. He just wishes you would just let go sometimes, but it’s understandable when he thinks about you as a person. It’s simply in your nature to be selfless, and ever since the two of you were young, you’ve never been one to bother anyone with your own worries. No wonder he’s worried as you crinkle your eyes in elation at him, a complete 180 from five minutes ago.

Glancing at Chaewon, she nods at him discreetly, seemingly having a conversation with just their eyes. You’re okay now.

Letting out a short breath of relief, Mark loops his arm with yours before pulling you into the lion’s den of a party haven. 

“Let’s get fucked up, hmm?”

…

You don’t know how much time has passed as you trudge through the garden with your heels in one hand, Chaewon’s fingers laced with yours in the other. 

You’re sure it’s been at least three hours since you arrived. No, two. Maybe four?

To be honest, time isn’t even a concept in your book as you swing your arm with your friend’s, a drunken-dopey smile on your face as you relish the feeling of the dirt and grass against your bare skin. 

Maybe you would’ve known when Mark had handed you the first shot, eyes flicking absentmindedly to the mounted clock in Johnny’s spacious living room — but you hadn’t cared enough then to figure out the numbers and read the time properly. In fact, you don’t think you were even thinking about anything except getting a bit of alcohol in your system. Forgetting was the first thing on your mind.

And boy, did everything spiral from there.

You recall vague bits here and there, from getting too close with familiar faces to being handed funky glasses with sparkly liquids. It was all a blur of overdue laughter and shots after shots, and you have to admit, completely letting loose for the first time in a while felt numbing in the most beautiful way.

You remember Mark drunkenly laying his head down in your lap at one point, tapping the hard liquor in your solo cup and mumbling a happy, “water fountain?” up at you. You weren’t seeing double just yet, but you certainly weren’t thinking straight enough either to comprehend his words fully. So, with absolutely no hesitation and a tipsy giggle, you poured the rest of the contents in your cup into his open mouth as carefully as you could (read: not careful at all). He had sat up with a cheeky smile, wiping the surprisingly dark, bloodred liquid from his bottom lip before it dribbled down and stained his skin.

Everything after that moment felt muggy, like a heavy blanket was wrapped around your head and knotted twice around your neck. You suppose that the alcohol added up at some point, pushing you past the point of clarity.

And suddenly now, you’re here. In the grass with Chaewon, doing only God knows what in a freezing night chill with your short dress and absence of a cozy summer jacket. You don’t even know how you got outside in the first place.

The cold air is good for you, however, as you can feel the blurriness start to fade away bit by bit. You’re not stumbling around as much anymore, but your grip on your friend’s hand is as tight as ever as you make your way through pretty flower bushes and onto a stone path.

“Oh no, someone dropped their phone,” Chaewon laments with exaggerated sadness — no doubt the alcohol talking — before leaning down to pick up the shiny device. Dusting it off with her fingers, she traces a frowny face into its glass, causing it to suddenly turn on.

“Jesus,” you squint into its blinding screen, mentally cursing the person who had the brightness turned all the way up and causing tiny white dots to appear in your vision. “What time is it?”

“You have eyes, look yourself,” Chaewon turns her head towards you dramatically, words slightly slurred as she throws you an unimpressed look. “But it’s 2:43 am. I can’t believe we’re still conscious.”

You groan, rubbing lightly at your eye before she’s talking again, swaying slightly as she speaks. Letting your gaze wander, you let yourself linger on the few people either passed out on messy lawn chairs or calling their friends for late night rides. Some are standing around like you and Chae, heads hanging down and clearly not in their best condition. There’s people with their arms thrown over the shoulders of their friends too, providing obvious support for their less coherent counterparts.

A couple half hidden behind the edge of the balcony catches your eye, your muggy mind inwardly gushing at how cute they are. You want a relationship like that. Their figures are hidden by the shadows of the house, but you can still see how the boy holds her forearm with care as he leans against the stones with her, head tilted impossibly close to the girl’s to display his full attention on whatever she’s telling him through her hushed whispers. 

“—it’s okay ‘cause we’re sleeping over at Johnny’s tonight anyway. And, he has like a thousand guest bedrooms so we can choose any one of them—”

The couple lean into the wall more, the light repositioning as they shift their bodies closer, obviously very comfortable with each other. The girl moves further into the light, shiny hair catching onto the glow as she turns in place. He chases her movements, following her into the beam of the balcony lights as their faces are lit up under the sudden absence of shade.

You breathe out.

No way.

“—and I’ve always wanted to stay at Johnny’s and experience that rich kid life, you know? I wonder what it’s like to—”

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You think that your heartbeat physically stops as you take in the scene before you. Like a thin arrow slicing right through the flesh and tissue of your heart, and it’s violently humbling. Bruising, even.

Stop.

There’s Saemi. And there’s Jeong Jaehyun too in all his glory, looking at her with the stars glittering in his eyes as she tilts her head up towards him.

Your mind goes blank.

“Hey, Y/N, I’ll catch up with you later, okay? Promise.”

That was what, four hours ago?

Ha.

You sober up immediately, like your head has just just been ruthlessly plunged into a bucket of ice cold water. Like God himself is telling you to face the fucking music and come back down to reality. And if you concentrate hard enough, you can even hear your soul shattering, its pieces clattering down and settling at the bottom of your stomach because you actually feel like you might throw up.

I should’ve known, is the phrase that repeats like a mantra in your head, manically getting louder and louder as you blink in pain. Your eyes refuse to leave them for some reason, watching the way his hand comes up to rest on the junction between her neck and shoulder with a delicate touch.

A bitter taste floods your mouth. You feel like you’re playing a one-sided game of push and pull, and it’s worn you out; it’s not disappointment, or even jealousy that fills your body, but fatigue. It’s tiring to let yourself hope, and then get let down time after time and you feel stupid. Disgusted at yourself, even, for attempting to appeal to a boy who had never given you the time of day in the past even though everyone was aware of how blatantly obvious your crush on him was.

You’ve always prided yourself on how true to your own character you are, but in this moment, you feel like a child watching real adults in the real world. Two years' age difference isn’t much in retrospect, but at this moment, Lim Saemi seems like a whole generation above you. Her maturity shines through every part of her — from her gait to the way she dresses to the way she leans into Jaehyun — and you can’t help but let your worst insecurity get to you as they get impossibly closer.

It hurts, because he’s not even mine.

“Y/N, are you listening?”

You don’t answer.

And when the soft plush of his lips come down to place a gentle kiss against her forehead, you decide that you’ve seen enough.

…

Your mouth feels like paper, your head feels like it’s about to split open, and you feel like shit.

Blearily blinking one eye open and then immediately shutting it after getting a glimpse of an unfamiliar ceiling, you groan out loud before stuffing your face into your arm.

Somehow, the little bit of willpower left in you forces your body to get off of the bed you’re on, stumble through the darkness (you think you accidentally trip over a stray body on the ground too), and feel your way to the hallway. Your brain has completely shut off, but you’re also fucking parched and nothing will get in the way of you and water right now.

Your feet miraculously lead you to the empty expanse of Johnny’s kitchen, little sunlight reaching its pristine tiles at such an early hour. Glancing at the red clock numbers on the oven, you blanch when it displays a mocking 6:04am. You’re lucky that your hangovers don’t hit too hard. Pouring yourself a glass of water, you can finally swallow and lean back against the counter in relief as you take a deep breath.

And that’s when it hits you. That’s when everything hits you.

You almost choke on your water as your mind pulls last night from the depths of its sleepiness, from the drinking to the unwanted feelings to the sensation of blacking out. You remember it all.

Taeyong taking a body shot in front of you (scarred). Johnny making out with one of your close school friends in front of you (scarred x2). Mark handing you drink after drink. Chaewon leading you into the garden for fresh air. And… and seeing the boy you like with a girl you thought he had nothing to do with anymore.

Like a floodgate of torturous memories, your mind automatically replays every little interaction without warning as you throw your head back against a cabinet in regret. It’s as if you have no control over what you get reminded of and what you don’t, because of course, the first thing that flashes before you is the feeling you felt when you saw Jeong Jaehyun in the courtyard. 

His arm wrapped around the shoulder of Saemi’s as your best friend desperately vied for your attention, the girl finally following your line of sight to eventually see the scene you were watching in chilling silence. And Chaewon had noticed it all, from the way he smiled down at her to the very moment he looked up in your direction.

“Y/N…” she had whispered, the pity clear in her tone. You’d turned your head away quickly, not wanting her to see the tears gathering on your lash-line, but she couldn’t help but notice the way you reached up to wipe them away. Your body had gone into autodrive, quickly moving to the side to get away from the two as fast as you could. Chaewon reached out for you before turning back to glare at Jaehyun, surprised to see him already staring right at you.

He seemed unfairly distraught and guilty in her eyes, his gaze conflicted as his hands fell from Saemi’s face in a flash and hovered in the air in shock. A few seconds later and he snapped out of it, leaving her standing alone and rushing over in your direction, seemingly trying to reach you before you got lost in the mass of people inside the mansion. 

As he passed Chaewon’s lingering form, her hand flew out to latch onto his shoulder. 

Shaking her head at him — as if saying, you lost your chance ages ago — it was then that she truly felt awful about the inner turmoil her best friend was constantly subjected to when liking a boy like that. 

Wincing, you press a cheek to the cold marble countertop of the kitchen as all of your thoughts flitter through your consciousness at once. You wish the dull throbbing in your head would stop, and even thinking about it makes you shift uncomfortably in place, itching to just get outside and clear your mind with fresh air.

Fuck it, you decide, no one’s awake anyway. I need to get away, even if it's only for a few moments.

Pushing your hair out of your face, you finish your water before heading out. There’s an unusual smell of artificial roses as you move through the hallways and descend the grand staircase; it’s eerie to walk in a silent house, all of the hallways dark and stoic. Johnny’s mansion looks like a mini natural disaster with the way decorations and bottles are strewn across its marble floors, almost like savages making use of a castle. It’s like a presentation of physical evidence of what took place last night.

Finally making it outside into the crisp morning air, you relish in the chirping of the songbirds and empty expanse of a dew-tipped garden. Taking a deep breath, you shiver slightly before heading down a small hill behind the garden. You recall there being a lake behind the property that Taeyong and Johnny used to bring you to when you were younger, one with a small dock that retreated far enough into the water that you could be alone without having the urge to constantly look towards the house again.

You don’t expect anyone to be awake — or even outside — this early, but it comes as a surprise when you almost trip over a figure sitting on the bottom-most stone step. Putting a hand to your heart, your eyes widen as they turn to look up at you.

“Oh… hi. I didn’t expect anyone would be awake this early.”

“Yeah, I just needed some fresh air,” you say, nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. “So I’m going down to the dock…”

“Ah. I see… um. You- you wouldn’t mind if I joined you, right?”

…

Life is funny sometimes.

As you swing your legs gently above the light waves, you can’t help but think about the irony of the situation you’re in. You bite your lip before turning to the person next to you, their knees pulled up to their chest as they stare out into the water. 

“Saemi…”

The girl turns to you, a hesitant smile on her face as she reaches out for your hand.

Lim Saemi takes your fingers between hers before letting out a deep sigh, the talkative persona she normally holds, gone, as she looks between each of your eyes. The hesitance between the two of you is awkward in a way. You’ve never had a full conversation with her and you’ve always assumed things about her based off of others’ recountings, but she couldn’t be more different now. 

The little imaginary devil on your shoulder shakes her pitchfork at you, as if saying, “you should be hating her, remember?” 

You look down to hide your slight frown.

“I think we have a lot to talk about,” she starts, voice tentative and slow as she purses her lips in contemplation. You still. Nodding your head, you let her move closer to you on the wooden planks of the dock before she makes eye contact with you again.

“You know, sometimes it scares me how alike you and Taeyong look. It’s like staring into a mirror image, and I feel like I see memories in you that I associate with your brother.” 

You cock your head at her words. “...we’re pretty similar people too, I think,” you whisper back, an automatic smile reaching your face as your mind finds its own way to him.

“I think so too,” she grins. “Actually, Taeyong and I have been friends for a long time, and he’s always speaked of you so fondly that I couldn’t help but anticipate meeting you. I would see glimpses of you here and there, and he would constantly mention his baby sister and how much he worried about her. He was the best older brother, and anyone could see it.” She pauses, taking in a deep breath. “Yet he treats his friends the very same way, with the same adoration and care. It doesn’t matter how much Taeyong will grow in the future with his escalating popularity and growing talent in music, he’ll always have the kindest soul in my eyes. I’m genuinely so thankful for him, Y/N.”

To hear someone speak about your brother like that triggers an emotion in you that you didn’t even know you had, gaze curious as you wait for her to continue.

“I don’t really know how to start this conversation to be honest, but- I bet you know how hard high school is.” You nod, grimacing at all of the particular more negative memories you have. “You’re balancing on that fine line between feeling too adult to be in school and feeling too childish to live your own life yet, and I, for one, most definitely didn’t know how to deal with such a sudden change in my social and academic surroundings. I think I changed physically a lot then, too. My face, my body, everything. I started morphing into someone that I couldn’t recognize in the mirror, and I came to the realization that boys liked me first for my appearance, not my personality. And… and you know what I regret the most? I learned how to use my body as a weapon.”

“I learned how to change the way I talk, how to talk to boys so that I could get them to do what I want, and suddenly, everything changed even faster. People flocked to me, which is what I had always secretly wanted, but the person that they wanted wasn’t me. I had flown a bit too close to the sun and now I was stuck with this facade that I couldn’t get rid of. It was never just ‘Saemi,’ I was always simply the object of their desires, something to be acquired. And I had brought it upon myself.”

Recalling the Saemi you knew and recognized in high school, you have a bit more of an understanding of her now. She held up a front in order to protect herself, and as a result, she lost touch with her own self. Your heart hurts for her as you hesitate to reach out and offer comfort. 

“Your brother was the first one who understood me right away. We met in detention during our second to last year, and he saw right through me in the first ten minutes. Sat me down in the teacher’s empty chair and told me that I was a bitch for breaking one of his friend’s hearts.” She closes her eyes as she recalls that very afternoon. “Taeyong gave it to me plain and straight that day: I shouldn’t have promised false love to so many boys if I wasn’t planning to give it in the first place. Your brother may have been a player too, but the boundaries he always set with his girls made him a thousand times better than I was.”

You place your hand on hers, Saemi giving you a grateful smile in return. 

“I thought hard about myself and my decisions after that, and I decided that if I wanted to enjoy the last years of my secondary schooling, I needed to take back control of my own actions. After I apologized to his friend, he offered me genuine friendship in the weeks following, one without the jealousy and lust that I was always caught up in before. I had always been surrounded with so much toxicity, and he was able to pull me out of it so easily that I finally felt seen for the first time.” 

She pauses, glancing at you briefly before staring up at the sky. 

“That was also… the first time I met Jaehyun.”

You shift, staring down at your shoe laces as they sway lightly with the wind. 

Ah, you smile sadly to yourself. We’ve gotten to this part of the story.

“Your brother brought me along with him one day to one of his parties, and I had truly never been enamored with a boy that quickly before.”

You can tell that Saemi’s choosing her words carefully with you, and they hit a lot harder when you relate to what she’s saying. You’re certainly no stranger to his charm.

“We started talking that night and Jaehyun had somehow broken down all of the walls I had carefully built up within the first month of knowing each other. It was new for me. My personal mantra had always followed the lines of, ‘if they like what they see and feel, I might as well use it to my advantage.’ But it was different with him. I didn’t want us to be a one time thing, and I certainly did not want him to think of me as something who couldn’t do that kind of serious relationship shit. I wanted him to like me so badly without thinking about if I had genuine feelings towards him in the first place.”

She takes another deep breath, as if she’s collecting her thoughts, before leaning forward with an airy laugh and sadness clear in her eyes. 

“Have you ever mistaken love for dependency, Y/N?” 

Have you? 

You think back to all the people you’ve liked throughout your teenage years, ranging from hallway crushes to… well- Jaehyun. Your pupils dart to the water as you think about the idea of depending on a person. Do I depend on the people I like, or do I know when to distance myself?

You shake your head. 

“Jaehyun and I… we jumped into everything too quickly. It wasn’t even a right person, wrong time situation; we simply weren’t ready. We tried putting our all into this lone spark that we felt without stepping back and really looking at our relationship.” She stops to observe the rising sun above the lake, its golden reflection casting a healthy glow on her skin. Saemi’s beautiful like this, her feelings bare and raw before you as she lays out her emotions so vulnerably. 

“I guess I never really loved Jaehyun in the way he loved me. He was looking for something tender and real, and younger me was not in the capacity to give that to him. I tried to convince myself every single fucking day that I liked him in that way, but even I knew deep down that my I would never convince myself. I still had this lingering, detrimental mentality of seeing boys as something I could win over, and my fascination with him intertwined with that in ugly ways.”

Saemi’s face falls a little before she takes both of your hands in hers, eyes sincere as she peers at you. 

“The reason I’m telling you all this is because… I saw you,” she whispers carefully, watching your reaction. “Last night. When Jaehyun and I were together in the garden… I saw you watching before you walked away.”

Your heart drops as you look down at her hands holding yours so carefully, her pretty fingers encompassing your wrist as you unwillingly recall the worst emotions you had felt in a while. 

She saw. 

You only manage to get out a small, “oh,” before she squeezes your hand reassuringly. 

“Hey hey hey, look at me,” she leans down slightly to put herself at eye level with you. The edges of her lips quirk up in the slightest, her hair falling elegantly against her face as the wind picks it up and puts it back down again. “I don’t want you to misunderstand. Why? Because all those years ago, Jaehyun misunderstood, and I misunderstood, and it was all of these assumptions and forced feelings that drove our relationship to its grave. We were shit at communicating with each other properly, and that eventually hurt both of us too deeply to heal the right way.”

You nod at her hesitantly, taking in what she’s saying with a newfound understanding. Saemi sighs before smiling again at you. 

“I’ve hurt a lot of people in the past,” she says, forlorn, her eyes crinkled as she sniffs in the cold of the morning. “And I never got the chance to apologize to them properly. But last night, I finally worked up the confidence to revisit our high school days with Jaehyun.” She stops, leaning back onto the dock with her hands behind her. Her eyes close as she soaks in the morning sun, and you can’t help but mirror the position as your heart warms for her. “We finally got our much needed closure last night, and I was feeling a bit down afterwards so he was simply comforting me. And I won’t weigh you down with all the nitty gritty details, but we were able to see our ending all the way through without letting our emotions get in the way.”

You can’t help but reach out and hug the girl, your arms wrapping comfortably around her shoulders to express your awe and gratitude. With a little noise of surprise, Saemi pauses for a few seconds before embracing you back. Everything makes more sense now, and you can’t help but feel a little ashamed for jumping to conclusions so easily. 

“I’m so grateful that you shared all that with me,” you mumble into her shirt, her chuckle ringing out into the lake as she rubs your back like an older sister would. 

“Of course. If anyone deserved to hear all of this, it would be you.”

“Why?”

Saemi snorts, pulling back from your hug before lifting an eyebrow at you. 

“Oh please, Y/N, you should see Jaehyun from everyone else’s eyes. We can all see the way he looks at you.” Your mouth drops open slightly, tilting your head in confusion. 

“He looks at me a certain way?”

“God, I have never met two more stupid people in my lifetime,” she groans, bringing her fingers up to her temple. “And I say this lovingly, of course.”

With a fond look on her face, she nudges your shoulder. “But I’m really glad Jaehyun has someone like you.”

You bashfully look down at the water, a rosy blush creeping up your cheeks at her words. You were never 100% sure of where you stood with him, but that familiar feeling of hope has started to creep up once again. Could I go through that again, though? That same push and pull?

Seeming to sense your sudden aversion, Saemi loops her arm through yours in one smooth motion and sets your hand in her lap.

“Hey. Promise me you’ll go talk to him?”

You hesitate to reply, mouth dry as you think about everything she’s poured out to you. You think about your own feelings, and you think about the possibility of having something more with Jaehyun. You think about his history with Saemi, and how this issue of communication has ruined your confidence so many times. But what is it all worth if you don’t try?

With a slow nod, you offer her a reassuring smile before dusting off your clothes and standing up. “Promise.”

Saemi grins at you.

“That’s my girl.”

“Jaehyun?” she asks, putting a hand out on his arm as he looks behind her, distressed. She’s never seen him like this, a nervous jitter in his hands as his eyes dart around at the scene behind them.

Turning around, she just manages to catch a glimpse of a girl rushing towards the back of the house, her head downturned but not masking the obvious face of discomfort in her features. Her friend turns around to glare at them before following close after.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, chewing on his lip as he hesitates to run after your escaping form. “I fucked up so bad, Saemi.” Running a hand through his hair in frustration, he lets out a noise of exasperation as he watches you get farther and farther away. 

“What?”

“She’s leaving, Saemi. What do I do, what do I do,” he mumbles under his breath. “I just know she’s gonna think I hurt her on purpose. I always fuck it up somehow.”

“Woah, let’s breathe first,” she holds him steady at the shoulders, grip strong as she turns his body to face hers. “Breathe slowly.”

After a few panicked breaths, he looks back at her and attempts to inhale at a slower pace. A few seconds pass and he’s calmed down already, but a worried crease still flits across his features nonetheless.

“Listen to me, Jaehyun. Don’t leave her in the dark.”

His body loses tension bit by bit as he nods back a little, a heavy look in his eyes.

“We both know how that feels, better than anyone.”

…

Twenty-three missed calls.

That’s how many you’ve accumulated over one day.

You do the math on your bedroom ceiling as you lay splayed out on the mattress like a starfish. Each glow-in-the-dark, plastic star represents a missed call, and they swim across your vision as you point up at them with your hand to count them. 

There’s seven from Mark, another seven from Chaewon, four from Taeyong, one from Johnny, and the remaining four? Mentally moving the glowing stars across the solar system of the ceiling, you pick four of the brightest glowing stars before keeping them hidden in a little group at the corner of your eye.

4 missed calls from Jeong Jaehyun, your phone reads from beside you on the mattress, the screen habitually lighting up throughout the day.

Your hand itches to grab it and just call him like you so desperately want to, but you exercise self-restraint as you roll over and stuff your face into your pillow. It’s unfairly hot tonight — the sticky, humid type —  and being surrounded by all of your fluffy blankets and pillows does nothing to help your condition, but you don’t want to move out of your room. Letting out a muffled scream into the fabric, you groan to yourself when you realize that all of the problems floating around in your head won’t just magically disappear.

A normal Sunday would have gone like this: waking up mid afternoon with an abnormally large appetite, eating the entire contents of your kitchen to your heart’s content, and then going back to bed. Unfortunately, today was a bit different.

For the entire day, you’ve been busy. Busy thinking.

You had quickly left Johnny’s estate after your talk with Saemi early in the morning, borrowing one of Johnny’s cars from his garage and leaving him a little note that you’d return it soon (to be honest, you doubt that he’ll even notice). You’ve been in your room ever since. 

With your eyes trained out the window, your record player ran through entire sets of albums as you lay on your bed in contemplation for the entirety of the afternoon. The fan in your room barely kept you cool as it picked up the fabric of your sundress every few minutes, marking another block of time that had gone by without you getting up and doing something about your position. 

You let out a humph before throwing an arm over your eyes and retreating back into deep thought.

I’ve been distancing myself from him the entire day, and that’s the opposite of what I want to do, right? I’m turning into exactly what Saemi warned me not to.

Biting your lip, you turn your body over to stare at your motionless phone. But what should I do?

In a single impulsive movement, you reach out to grab the device before you can change your mind. Your fingers lead you to your contacts before your brain can catch up.

You can’t even fully register what you’ve just done, but Jaehyun’s name flashing across your screen certainly makes it all very much real, your phone waiting for him to pick up on the other side of the line. Your face gets hotter and hotter as the seconds tick on, the beeping of a no-caller reply heightening your nerves.

Finally, with a little click from your hand, he picks up. Your eyes widen. You really didn’t really think this through; now you had to actually talk to him.

“Hey,” Jaehyun sounds out, his voice breathless. “I- are you okay?”

“Yeah.” At least I think I am, you add on to yourself, grimacing. “Um… are you free today?”

“Am- am I free today? Yes! I mean yes, yes I’m free today.” 

You can’t help but smile at the way he trips over his words a bit, his nervousness bleeding over your speaker. 

“Well then, rooftop at mine at 10?”

“For real?” Jaehyun exclaims, checking the time on his alarm clock. That’s in twenty minutes. “Wait, I’ll be there. I promise.”

And with that, the two of you hang up with a million unspoken words and unfinished sentences. You let out the breath you were holding in, because you genuinely thought you would pass out when you heard Jaehyun’s voice again after finding out all that you did. Throwing yourself against your bed, you let yourself indulge in your feeling of hope again.

“He’ll be here,” you sigh in happiness to yourself. You relax into your pillows before springing up immediately, a look of horror taking over your face. “Oh my god, he’ll be here.”

Rushing around your room with a newfound energy, you make sure you don’t look like you just rolled out of bed (although you technically did just roll out of bed, but he doesn’t have to know that) before unlatching the window of your bedroom and carefully climbing out onto your roof.

It’s well past dusk now, and the sky is abnormally clear with not a single cloud in sight. The moon shines brilliantly in its place as it casts an eerie glow on the panels you’re sitting on, their bumpy texture making it seem like the material is constantly shifting. 

You let yourself go for a moment, resting your head in the palms of your heads before staring out at the roofs of your city. They create a complex, urban terrain: a mix of timely balconies and rooftop gardens, orange lanterns and fairy lights alike. 

The beeping of a car horn brings you out of your daze. Peering down into the street below you, a familiar, classy black car is visible through all of the telephone lines. 

Okay Y/N, deep breaths. 

Jaehyun gets out of the front seat, immediately looking up in hopes of catching a glimpse of you before you notice he’s there. However, when his eyes follow the length of your house up, he finds that you’re already staring at him with an unreadable expression. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this nervous in his life. With cold hands, he lifts himself onto the electrical box beside your house before climbing up onto the slope of the roof, climbing over to you with an uneasy smile on his face. 

“Hey.”

You tuck your chin into your arms, leaning forward to look at him curiously. “You could’ve taken the window, you know, but that works too.”

“What’s life without any risks, hm?”

As he settles himself, you can’t help but think that there’s a double lining to his words. “That’s the most Jaehyun-esque thing I’ve ever heard.”

His laugh warms your heart in a way you didn't know it could.

The first few moments are quiet, just two pairs of eyes looking up at the stars before Jaehyun breaks the silence with a small cough. 

“We got lucky, there’s no clouds tonight. Pure stars.” You look over in his general direction, his gaze not even directed towards the sky anymore. 

He pauses, so you turn and happen to meet eyes at the same time. Both of you open your mouths to talk, prompted by the invisible tension between you. 

“Let me just say that—“ 

“I just wanted to tell you—“ he starts at the same time you do, eyes widening when you both go quiet once again. “You go first.” Giving him a grateful smile, you think a bit about how to express yourself before twisting your body completely so that you’re facing him. 

“I just wanted to apologize first,” you start, holding up a hand when Jaehyun starts to protest. “Wait. I really want to tell you this before I get too nervous to.”

“I know everyone was worried when I went kinda off the grid this morning, but I needed some time alone with my thoughts. I shouldn't have ignored you like that, especially when things seemed so off between us. This is really hard to say to your face but,” you glance away from him as he waits patiently for you, “I always feel this rush of different emotions whenever I’m around you. And sometimes it’s confusing, but other times—“ stopping to exhale, you notice Jaehyun’s grin from the corner of your eye. 

“Hey, why are you laughing? I’m trying to be serious right now,” you whine. He simply puts his hand up to his mouth to hide the elated expression on his face. 

“You’re just too cute, that’s all,” he replies adoringly, his eyes creasing behind his hand. 

“I can’t take this,” you mutter in embarrassment, stuffing your face into your arm to hide the blush of your cheeks. “See! Stuff like that. You make me experience, like, thirty different emotions at once.”

He simply giggles at you, throwing out a little “my bad,” but he doesn’t sound very sorry at all. You nudge him in the arm.

“Sorry sorry, Y/N. Wait, I’ll be serious now.”

Both of you taking deep breaths, you put your hand up to your heart to calm its erratic beating as Jaehyun composes his expression back to normal. 

“I really wanted to apologize too.”

You glance at him in surprise as the words leave his mouth, sincere and heavy. 

“I’ve been pretty shitty to you, and I recognize how confusing it must have been for you to watch me constantly go back and forth between different personas. Honestly, being back home forced me to face the people here, and suddenly I was thrown into this internal conflict between my high school life and my present self. That’s still no excuse for how many mixed signals I gave you these past few months, but I want you to know that it was never my intention to hurt you.”

Reaching out to brush a small leaf off your shoulder, his hand trails down your arm until he’s taken your hand in his. You can tell how much he means it by the way he’s looking at you — like you hold the entire galaxy in your eyes. You think that you finally see a replication of how you look at him yourself; after all, it’s being reflected back to you right now. 

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I hope you can tell, but I really like you,” he whispers, bringing your hand up to his chest. He wants you to feel how much his nerves are racing just as fast as yours. 

You think that your heart just about stops. You’ve dreamt of this moment since you were younger, and now that it’s finally coming to life, it’s unreal to think that he feels the same.

“I think you know how I feel,” you reply back quietly, looking down at your hands entwined with his. 

“Say it?” he asks with a pleading face, the corners of his lips quirking up when you roll your eyes. 

“Jeong Jaehyun, do you really think I believe that you didn’t know that I’ve liked you ever since we were kids?” Shaking his head innocently at your suspicion, he pouts in a manner that’s very unlike him. 

“Fine,” you give up, unable to hide the smile creeping up on your face. “I like you Jaehyun, I like you so much that you don’t even know how happy I am right now.”

“Oh, I know. Come here,” he scoots over before tapping the side of his shoulder with his finger. Not getting the memo, you tilt your head inquisitively before he reaches over himself and puts your head on his shoulder himself. If your heart was skipping beats before, it’s probably failing to beat at all now. 

“I want you to trust me,” he murmurs under his breath, his grip tightening on your hand. “I know I don’t have the best track record right now, but I’ll prove to you how much I like you.”

You furrow your brows in confusion. “You don’t have to prove anything…“ You wholeheartedly believe and trust in his feelings, but with the way he’s looking at you right now, you decide to humor him and raise an eyebrow prompting him to go on. 

“Wait, you’ll do anything?” You ask, looking up at the stars to hide your telling grin. 

“Anything. Even suffer through another one of those awful DiCaprio movies.”

“Suffer?” you exclaim, your head lifting off of his shoulder with his words. 

“Shit- no no not suffer. Who said suffer? You must’ve misheard me, I most definitely said enjoy.”

“You’re on thin ice, Jeong.”

He snorts at your threatening expression, an arm snaking behind you to wrap around your waist protectively. 

Turning his head to look down at you, you’re met with his nose almost touching yours. You can see every eyelash, every freckle adorning his skin as neither of you make the motion to move away. 

Jaehyun loses his breath at the sight of you so close. He keeps his teasing eyes on yours before taking that extra step forward to bump your noses together. Glancing down at your lips, he steadies himself so that his voice can sound as confident as he envisions it in his head. 

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please, Jaehyun.”

With your consent, he pulls you forward by the waist before slotting your lips together carefully. You’re not sure if it’s the pressure at which he’s holding you, or the fact that you’ve waited for this moment for almost your entire youth, but kissing Jaehyun is glorious. 

He moves a hand up to cup the back of your neck before pushing forward impossibly closer, tucking your hair behind your ear in one smooth motion as his mouth moves in tandem with yours. 

You make a noise of surprise when he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, giving you a little nip before licking over the skin carefully. The passion and lust that seeps through his tongue is made clear as the minutes pass, and your reactions only spur him on.

Th mix of his skin on yours burning its way across your body and the delicacy at which he touches you makes your heart alight for a completely different reason. Threading your fingers through his hair, you're delighted to find that that particular motion makes him shudder under your hands, and kiss you more like his life depends on it.

After a while of marking each other's skin and exchanging sweet nothings between his kisses, you tap his chest to pull apart for air, your breathless mien making him grin smugly. 

“I’m that good, huh?”

“Shut up, Jaehyun.”

…

The rings on your fingers clink with his as you hand him a metal camping cup, its silver surface hot to the touch even at night. Glancing up at Jaehyun, you laugh when you catch his skeptical expression. 

“The hell is this…” he asks in borderline horror as the liquid in his cup sloshes around. 

“Mark’s gonna love hearing that,” you remark, putting your own cup to your lips as you bring your knees to your chest.

It’s the most comfortable when you’re with Jaehyun like this, sitting on the hood of his car in the dead of the night to stargaze into the early hours of the morning. 

It’s been a few weeks since that night on the rooftop, and you’ve never felt more alive. From long drives with Taeyong to mini adventures with Mark, and from jukebox diners with Chaewon and constellation hunting with Jaehyun, you finally feel at home in a place you’re about to leave. University is close on the horizon, but that doesn’t mean you can’t spend your last free evenings with the people you love the most. 

“Is this your recipe?” Jaehyun asks, pulling up your legs so that they rest over his lap. You shake your head with a cheeky smile. 

“Stole it,” you whisper, scrunching your nose at the distinct smell. 

“And what did Mark’s creative ass come up with this time,” he laments back, taking your cup to compare it with his in confusion. 

“Our cups hold the same exact thing, Jaehyun. I didn’t secretly poison your drink if that’s what you’re thinking, and I know you are.” You take back your cup before taking another sip and taking a little piece of paper out of your pocket to read from. “But anyway, it's ‘orange liquor, orange juice, lime juice, maple syrup, sliced jalapeño, and agave blanco sugar in the rim.’ You can steal the recipe too, but don't tell him that I gave it to you. He’d murder me.”

“Mm,” he muses, nuzzling into your neck. “I wouldn’t want my girlfriend dead.”

You freeze in mid-air, mind turning the title over and over again in your head. “Girlfriend?”

Jaehyun sits up immediately, looking at you with the most mortified expression on his face. “Fuck, I never asked you to be my girlfriend, did I?”

With a small giggle at his antics, you simply lean against him and pat his arm in consolation. “It’s okay, I don’t need a label to know how you feel about me.” Jaehyun hums contently before suddenly wrapping his arms around you, your delighted shriek ringing out as he pulls you down with him and falls back against the metal roof of the car. 

“Can we just stay like this forever?” 

You sigh in satisfaction as your body follows the rises and falls of his chest. The stars above seem to blink happily at the two of you as they make their way across the sky, the little, twinkling lights of overpassing planes highlighting their presence.

Intertwining your fingers with his, he gently kisses the side of your face before closing his eyes.

Even if the two of you hadn’t realized it yet, it had always been like this: two childish souls crafting the idea of mature love. Two blooming young adults, with fizzing feelings and cherry picked lips, daring to love one another like the grownups in black and white colored movies.

Your summers are defined by sticky ‘n sweet cherry cola, rides around the abandoned carousel with your friends, and “borrowing” quarters out of your brother’s Cadillac to insert into the jukebox of the local diner. They’re tinged with the taste of Mark’s special drinks and Chaewon’s sweet words, with Taeyong’s cheery voice ringing out throughout your house and your parents’ weekly sitcom reruns. And most of all, summers are made of Jaehyun’s lavender cologne and the way he holds you close when you need it the most.

“Don’t be surprised if the moon calls you by name, Y/N, because I tell her about you all the time.”

…

<3 you can find their character profiles HERE.

[ for Y/N, mark, chaewon, jaehyun, taeyong, and saemi ]

…

xoxo

2023 © kiachiako | all rights reserved.

[sweetbans29]

Should Have Been Me - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You and Caitlin are home for a weekend to celebrate her brother's birthday - one thing leads to another and nothing is the same.

Warnings: ANGST - PURE ANGST, read at your own will. I would apologize but that would be a lie...

Word Count: 6.3k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Please don't ask why I did this, I needed the pain. Just let it be. But low-key this is probably one of my favorites that I’ve written. Okay great, thanks!

You and Caitlin are jamming out on the drive home to Des Moines. A few weeks back she mentioned how her younger brother's birthday was coming up and she was planning on making the trip home to be there. She didn't need to ask, knowing you would come.

The two of you grew up together, meeting on the first day of first grade. You two were inseparable. If you weren't at school together, you were at practice or at each other's homes. Your parents accepted when you were girls that they both had two daughters even though she was the only girl among her siblings and you were an only child. You were all essentially one big family.

It came as no surprise to either of them when Caitlin and you told them you were dating in high school. It was a little bit of a hard pill for her parents to swallow but ultimately were supportive of your relationship when they saw how happy you made Caitlin as more than a friend. It wasn't a hard decision when the Hawkeyes came around and scouted both of you out to play college basketball with them. It was both of your dreams, to play college basketball and ultimately make it to the NCAA championship. Eventually to play in the WNBA and that all was coming true right before your eyes. It was the cherry on top that you two were able to do that together on the same team. Not only is your chemistry incredible off the court, but on the court - it's unmatched.

This is your last little getaway before things pick up going into March Madness. Senior year baby and the two of you know you can the team all the way back to the final four.

You pull up to her house and grab your bag from the car. Even though your home was right down the street the two of you planned to spend the Friday night at her house and then head to yours for Saturday night. It works out well as her brother's birthday party is tonight.

Once you get inside, you see her mom going crazy trying to get everything in order before tonight You set your things down and immediately help out wherever she needs. Caitlin does the same but takes some time to catch up with her dad first. Once Cait and her dad jump in, it all comes together.

People begin to arrive and the party comes together. Their home comes to life with friends and family from all over.

Caitlin's mom comes running over to Caitlin and you in a slight panic.

"Caitlin, I need you to go grab Colin from his friends," she says looking at her phone.

"Doesn't he have his car? Why do I need to go grab him? I told Dad that I would help him get the lights up for the party before everyone got here and we are behind." She says getting a little flustered herself.

"His car isn't starting and his friend is out of a car so they have no way of getting here," Caitlin's mom explains.

"I can go get him," you say. "That way you both can stay and finish anything that is needed."

"Oh, you are an angel, sweetheart! Thank you, thank you, thank you," she says while giving you a hug.

"It is no problem, it's my pleasure," you respond and give her a smile. Caitlin gives you a look of gratitude.

Caitlin's mom sends you the address and you give Cait a peck before heading out to grab the boys.

Once you get in your car, you put on your favorite playlist and maps then head out. It was only about a 15-minute drive there. As you are driving, it is just starting to get dark. Your lights turn on automatically as you are driving. You are about 5 minutes out when you are stopped at a light. Once yours turns green, you begin to go and that is when time stops.

*Third person-ish POV*

Caitlin's mom walks over to her and her dad as they are setting up the lights. They are just about finished putting them up - it took a minute to do but they look really good.

"Have you see your little bother yet? I thought they would be back by now," her mom says looking at her phone.

"I am sure they are almost here, Mom," Caitlin says as her arms are holding up the last string of lights for her dad.

"I'm sure you're right," she says as she walks away and goes to tend to the food.

Once the lights are complete, Caitlin goes to look for you. She looks all over the place and can't seem to find you. After about 30 minutes of looking, she finds her mom.

"Hey mom, have you seen (y/n)," she asks, checking her phone to see if there were any messages that she missed.

"I have been trying to call her. Your bother called and asked when we would be there to pick him up," she says and Caitlin begins to get nervous. Looking at the clock, she realizes it has been about an hour since you had left to pick him up and it should have taken you 30 minutes.

Cait gives your phone a ring and it goes straight to voicemail. She begins to look around for your parents, knowing they were here to see if they could get a hold of you. When she finds them, they say they haven't seen her yet.

"Caitlin, can you go get your brother, please? It has been over an hour in and he is still waiting for (y/n)," her mom says, not looking up from her phone. Caitlin grabs her mom's keys and heads out.

As she is driving, she notices there are police detouring cars. Her heart rate begins to pick up. She has to tell herself that it's not you, it couldn't be you. There was no way, you had never been in an accident and you are the best driver she knows. She slows down and makes a slow turn following the detour when she sees it. She sees your car flipped on its side, completely crushed on the driver's side.

She pulls her car over immediately, gets out, and runs to the scene. There is caution tape around the whole area which she completely ignores and runs over to the first ambulance she can see. When she looks inside, she sees a man with a cut on his forehead and arm in a sling. Before she can continue looking, there is a police officer approaching her.

"Ma'am, you can't be over here," he begins to say as he tries to usher you out of the caution-taped area.

"That's my girlfriend's car! I need to find her!" She says as she is in full-blown panic now.

The officer's mannerisms change completely when he hears that the girl in front of him knows who was in the car that was hit.

"Come this way, ma'am," he says in a gentler tone this time.

"No, I need to find (y/n). That is her car, she is here and I need to find her," Caitlin says not seeing the officer's demeanor changing. He grabs her arm and tries to get her to look at him. When she looks at him, he speaks again.

"You should come this way and we can talk," he says slowly, not wanting to spook you. Caitlin goes into a haze. She stops trying to fight the officer and lets him lead her to an easy-up tent that has been set up with lights. He offers her a chair and a bottle of water and sits next to her.

"Would you happen to have contacts for her parents? Someone else we can call to come down and be here with you?" The officer says, still not telling her what happened or where you are.

Caitlin pulls out her phone from her pocket and hands it over to him with your mom's phone number on the screen. Up to this point, no tears had fallen from Caitlin's eyes - if she was feeling anything it was anger. Why wasn't anyone telling her anything? She still had no idea what had happened. The officer passes her phone to another officer and they make the call.

"Can you please tell me what has happened and what's going on? I want to see her, is she okay?" Caitlin begins asking the officer again. She is doing everything in her power to not completely freak out. Her body is numb and she is confused as to where you could be.

"It would be best to wait for her family to be here," the officer begins but is cut off by Caitlin.

"I am her family." She says without hesitation. It was true. Not by blood and not legally, at least not legally yet but between growing up together and the relationship the two of you had been in for the last 6 years, it was only a matter of time before you were married. She had been your family since day one and everyone knew that.

The officer gives her a somber smile and a nod. Giving her a pat on the shoulder as another officer calls him over.

Caitlin sits there and waits, trying to look around at other ambulances to see if she can see you in any of them. If you were hurt, maybe they had already taken you to the hospital and didn't want her to drive in the state she was in.

A few moments pass and Caitlin sees both your parents and hers come running up to the scene. Caitlin stands and immediately hugs her mom. The tears begin to fall the second she is wrapped in safe arms. She still has no idea what is going on but at least now she is not alone.

The officer approaches asking your parents if they are they say they are. He takes them aside and begins explaining what happened. Caitlin breaks away from her mom to look over and see your mom sobbing with your dad trying to hold her as he sheds tears of his own.

"Mom, what happened? They haven't told me anything, I just want to see her," Caitlin says heart beating faster than a race car. Seeing your parents crumble before the officer has her feeling sick. She can't stand still as her foot is tapping and her hands keep playing with either themselves or the bottom of her shirt.

Caitlin's dad nods at her mom as he walks over to your parents and the officer. The officer and her dad both look over to Caitlin and her mom as they turn away. Caitlin sees her dad's shoulder slump and his hand come up to his face. He takes another moment before patting the officer on the shoulder and heading back to where his family is.

He doesn't say anything as he approaches, but rather takes Caitlin in his arms and just holds his daughter.

"Dad," Caitlin begins, hesitant in asking how. The last 45 minutes had felt like an eternity as she had been asking everyone under the sun what had happened. But the way her dad walked over and went to hold her, she no longer wants to know what has happened - she just wants to go back to earlier today when it was you and her against the world on the drive home. She can't seem to find what to ask anymore.

"Baby, I'm so sorry." Is all he says as he holds his baby girl. Something your parents are no longer able to do. Her mom rubs Caitlin's arm.

Caitlin's whole body goes numb, she still doesn't really know what happened but knows enough now to figure out nothing is going to be the same. When it begins to hit her, she feels suffocated by the arms holding her. Her first instinct is to run, to break away from here and run. And that is exactly what she does.

She pushes through her dad's arms and runs. She can hear her parents call for her but she doesn't look back.

She runs for hours finally slowing down when her lungs begin to burn so bad that she is gasping for air. Not that she wanted it - if you weren't with her, what was the point? You had been by her side her whole life and now she was alone. Cait lets out the most primal scream and falls to the ground. She curls up into a ball as the tears begin to fall.

Her mind begins to think of you, to the last moment before you left when you offered to pick up her brother. All she gave you was a little peck - no hug, no I love you. She should have held you and told her she loved you. It is then that it dawns on her, she was the one that was supposed to go. It was Caitlin who was first asked to pick up her brother but she didn't want to leave her dad so you volunteered. It should have been her picking up her brother. Maybe if it was her, things would have turned out differently and you would have still been here. As she is curled up on the side of the street - she feels her body beginning to shut down...

It was the summer before junior year of high school and you and Caitlin were heading home from practice for your club team, Attack. She was driving the two of you back to your house when you mentioned you wanted to stop to get milkshakes. She happily pulled over at your favorite local spot. Once the two of you had gotten your sweet treat, you sat in her car drinking milkshakes and talking about all the possibilities for playing college ball.

"Cait?" You ask as she is finishing her milkshake. She looks up at you. "I love you," you say. Up to this point, the two of you had both told each other you liked each other more than friends and started to explore what that looked like. You would say the two of you had been dating for the past couple of months - keeping it really low-key as you didn't know how the people around you would take it. But there was something about this moment, something about being together and just doing life together that helped you realize she is your everything.

She looks at you slightly shocked.

"You don't need to say it back!" You say, not wanting to pressure her. You just didn't want to go another day without telling her. "I just needed to tell you because, well, I do. I love you, Caitlin Clark."

A goofy little smile makes its way to her face and she pulls you in for a hug. It isn't the most comfortable considering you sitting in a car and have some piece of the center console pushing into your rib cage but you didn't mind.

"I love you," she whispers in your ear as she hugs you.

"Caitlin, sweetie," someone is shaking her arm. "Cait, wake up," they continue to shake her, waking her up.

She looks up, eyes foggy and body in pain. It takes her a few seconds to see it is completely dark and that she is on the side of the road. As she looks around, she realizes she is across the street from your favorite milkshake place. It had closed down a few years back but it was often a place the two of you would go to just sit and talk.

As she sits up, she doesn't remember stopping here. She just remembers running and running until she literally couldn't.

"Caitlin, sweetie," she hears again and looks up. It is your dad who has woken her up, she looks around and it is just him. "We have been looking for you for a while now sweetie."

She just nods. Everything rushed back to her. No one has actually said it to her yet, but she knows. You were gone. Her eyes begin to water again as it is all too much for her to wrap her mind around.

Your dad sits next to her, not ready to make his way back to reality. Sitting there with Cait, has him feeling like you are still here. That you are going to walk up and take them both home and tell them that this was all a dream.

“I don’t know if you remember, but I took you and (y/n) here after your very first basketball practice in elementary school. You both wanted something sweet and I didn’t want to go out of the way on the drive home that I pulled over here in hopes they had something that would satisfy you both. We walked in and they had milkshakes,” he says with a little laugh and sniffle. “(Y/n) had never had a milkshake before but you were so excited and told her it was the best thing in the world. Of course, she believed you, she trusted you with her whole heart and soul and you didn’t disappoint her. That afternoon you two shared a chocolate shake, finished every last drop.”

Caitlin is hugging her legs as tears stream down her face. She doesn’t remember that but it makes it that much more special that this place was your spot.

“Caitlin, has anyone explained what has happened?” He asks hesitantly. He doesn’t want to talk about it but he knows that she deserves to know.

She takes a minute, deciding if she really wants someone to say it. Even though she knows you are gone, for some reason having someone explain what actually happened makes everything that much more real. She finally shakes her head no, not daring to make eye contact. She feels like she would physically fall apart if someone looked into her eyes with any drop of sympathy.

“They said it was fast, that she didn’t feel any pain,” he began, hoping that would provide any ounce of peace to her. “When she was going through the intersection, a drunk driver came and blew through their red light. They impacted the driver's side and she…” he is choked up at this point. It’s not right that a father has to say this about his daughter. “She died upon impact.” He finishes, not sugarcoating it knowing Caitlin also preferred the direct approach.

Caitlin at this point is shaking with pain and anger. Her world has completely flipped due to an idiot making bad decisions. She wants to find the man and bring him all the pain she is feeling but knows that will never bring you back. That’s all she really wants, is you back.

Your dad doesn’t rush Caitlin, he lets her feel everything she needs. If he is honest, he also needs this time. He’s been caring for your mom then went on the hunt with the rest of the family to find Caitlin. He hasn’t had the time to just sit. Not that he really wanted to because that allows the feelings to come in and disrupt peace. How does a dad wrap his mind around losing his baby girl? His only little one.

“I don’t know life without her,” Caitlin speaks for the first time. Her voice is unsteady and broken, desperate. “She’s always been there, I don’t know how to be here without her,” she says as she lets out a cry. She bites her arm to avoid completely losing it. Your dad's hand comes to rub her back and bring her into a hug.

"I know she was your person and you were hers. She will always be a part of you," your dad says trying to calm the broken girl you left behind. "But I also know that she took a part of you and that it is going to take time for you to process and heal."

The two of them sit, not saying much after that. After some time, your dad helps Caitlin into the car, driving her back to her home. On the car ride back, your dad calls Caitlin's dad letting her know that she is with him and they can all head back to their house.

When they arrive, Cait's parents come running out and embrace her in a hug. Her whole body was still numb, her cheeks stained with dried tears. She doesn't have the energy to hug them back, rather just stands there. No thoughts going through her head, she doesn't quite know what to do. How does someone continue living when they are no longer whole?

*One week later*

Caitlin is sitting on her bed, dressed in a simple black dress. Her hair is straightened and her nails are black. They are usually painted white but that just didn’t fit her in the moment. She is mentally preparing to face the crowd of people who are waiting just down the road.

She takes a shaky breath and stands from her bed. She walks up to her dresser and puts on a necklace and bracelet - both were gifts from you. She looks at herself one more time in the mirror. As she is looking at herself, she pictures when the two of you were standing there dressed for a friend’s wedding. It’s almost as if she can see you standing next to her.

She hears a faint knock on her door. She doesn’t respond but the door opens and her mom peaks through.

“Hey baby, are you ready” She asks in a gentle motherly tone. Caitlin just nods. Never in a million years would she picture herself being in this boat.

Cait's dad had already driven over to the church with her brothers. It was going to be Cait and her mom driving there just in case she needed some space to be alone.

As they arrive, there is already a huge crowd of people, all of whom are entering the building. Caitlin's heart rate begins to pick up and she begins to fiddle with the bottom of her dress. Her mom grabs her hand, attempting to calm her. Nothing and no one will ever calm her like you did.

She walks in. There have been countless times Caitlin has imagined walking down this aisle with you but under much different circumstances. Her heart aches at the thought of what could have been.

She takes her seat in the front row between her mom and her dad. As she sits, she makes the mistake of glancing over at your parents. She can tell they are doing everything in their power to keep their composure but she knows they are faking.

The funeral service begins and your dad is the first to go up and speak. Caitlin's mind wanders elsewhere...

It was freshman year of college and the two of you are heading into your Intro to Psych class. The two of you head to the seats you have sat in since day one. In the middle of class, Caitlin feels a weight on her shoulder. When she looks over she sees you - fast sleep on her.

It had been a busy few weeks between double practices and all the homework you two had. Cait knew you had been bending over backwards adjusting and keeping up with all the university required of you.

She leans down and kisses you on the head. You would always say you are an ugly sleeper - granted you had never seen yourself but you could feel it. Caitlin on the other hand would disagree and say you are the cutest when you sleep. She would always say you looked so peaceful, childlike.

Caitlin also knows that you would be pissed if she let you sleep through the lecture. You were the better note-taker and when it would come time to study for the final - Cait wouldn't hear the end of letting you sleep through the review. But on the other hand, your girl knows how little sleep you have been getting, always working on school work or reviewing plays and making sure you were on top of everything.

You let out a little sigh and lean a little further into her - fast asleep. Caitlin lets out a little groan, knowing she would much rather watch you sleep on her than wake you. She slowly begins to move her shoulder, trying to get you to wake up without being startled.

When you don't budge, she leans down and says your name in your ear. You still don't budge.

Finally, she turns a little, trying not to draw attention to the two of you, and moves her arm to squeeze your thigh.

"Babe, you need to wake up," she says, giving your thigh another squeeze.

"Mmmm, don't want to," you mumble and move to take hold of her arm, wrapping your arms around it like it was a pillow.

"Babe, we are still in class." She says with a little laugh - falling a little more in love with you.

This causes you to shoot up, fully alert by her words. You look around and your cheeks redden immediately. Sinking down in your chair - embarrassment filling every ounce of your body.

She hands you your pen back and leans over to kiss your head once again.

"Don't worry babe, you didn't miss much," she says reassuring you.

Caitlin is pulled back to the present - though she much rather stay in the past. The service was ending and there was going to be a time for people to pay their respects to your family. it was being held at your house, Caitlin hasn't been without you - not having the strength to go over to see your parents. Most of the last week was spent in bed, with the exception of when her mom encouraged her to shower.

When she walks into the house, it almost feels foreign. She grew up in this house with you and now it feels unknown. She walks up to your parents. Your mom engulfs her in a hug, mumbling something along the lines of how much she loves her. Cait then steps over to give your dad a hug. The last time she saw him was when he found her on the side of the road. He hugs Caitlin without saying anything until their embrace ends.

"When you are ready, I have something to show you," he says. Caitlin just nods. She isn't ready yet but keeps that in mind.

As Cait makes her way further into the house, her team is standing there. This is the first time seeing anyone outside of your family since that night.

Kate is the first one to come up to Caitlin and pull her into a hug. Kate is crying as she hugs her. When Caitlin is in public settings - she doesn't tend to cry, she does everything in her willpower not to because someone had to stay composed and when you were around, it wasn't you. She hugs Kate back and rubs her back.

All the girls give their condolences and talk about their favorite memories with you. Kate is holding Caitlin's hand, grounding her.

Caitlin stands there, trying to be polite and listen to how much they all loved you and adored you but she was crawling in her skin. None of this still feels right. Somewhere in Caitlin's mind and heart, she is waiting for you to walk through the front door and tell everybody that there is no one to mourn and that she is okay. But that was all just a dream.

Caitlin excuses herself and decides she wants to be alone. She begins walking and before she knows it, she is standing at the door to your room. The door is closed and she doesn't remember this being the destination she was looking for.

Her breath begins to unease itself as her hand comes to the doorknob. She twists it and opens the door, not yet daring to take a step inside. She stands looking around - the all too familiar space feeling empty. A pain builds in her chest as she walks through and makes her way to your dresser.

She looks at all that it holds. Little trinkets that the two of you saw value in, old jewelry, and many pictures of the two of you. Photos of you growing up and in high school. Her fingers run along your face on all of them - tears finally making an appearance on her own.

She then makes her way to your closet - bringing an old high school basketball sweatshirt into her chest. She inhales the scent of it, dampening it with her tears. She puts it on and hugs her arms around her body. She makes her way over to your bed and runs her hands over it, remembering all the times she had spent the night here with you. She lays down and curls up into a ball.

Looking over, she sees an old teddy bear that the two of you had made at Build-a-Bear for one of your anniversaries. She takes hold of the bear and snuggles into it - finally allowing her sobs to release.

Every time she begins to feel better, she gets hit by another truck. This one being the second biggest only to the night it all happened.

After some time, she finally begins to settle down. She sees your dad pass by. Caitlin gets up and runs to the doorway, calling for him.

"Caitlin," he begins, as he slightly peers into your room. "We haven't been in (Y/n's) room since it happened, we haven't had the strength to..." He continues.

"You said you had something you wanted to show me?" She asks, not really sure if she is ready but wants to know.

"Oh yes, wait here, let me grab it," he says and goes to get something from your parent's room. He comes back holding something in his hand.

He passes it to Caitlin. It is a small velvet box. Caitlin's hands begin to shake.

"When you are ready, you can open it. It doesn't have to be now, but I know it belongs to you." He says as there is some confusion written on Caitlin's face. He explains. "This was my mother's, she passed it down to Y/n when she mentioned the two of you started dating. We have been holding onto it but like I said, it's yours." He chokes out the last part and excuses himself.

Caitlin goes to sit on your bed and just stares at the box in her hands.

She slowly opens the box to see the most beautiful diamond ring sitting in it. Tears begin to fall again as she removes it from the box and places it on her finger.

It's your grandmother's wedding ring. Your grandmother had given you her wedding ring for when you were ready to ask Caitlin to marry you. Caitlin looks at the ring on her finger and clutches her hand to her chest - you were going to ask her to be your wife.

As Cait was going to close the box, a little piece of paper caught her eye. She pulls it out and opens the folded piece. She whispers the words on the page.

"Dear Y/n, It is clear to me how much you love Caitlin. I could see it before the two of you started dating, it was only a matter of time. She is your person like your grandfather was to me. I am giving you this ring for when the time is right and you are ready to build a life with her. May you love each other more and more each day, as your grandfather and I did. I love you, sweet girl. - Grams"

Caitlin struggled through the letter but was glad she did. She realized you had been holding on to this ring for the past 5 years.

*Two months later*

Caitlin was back at school and back at practice with the girls. Each girl on the team took turns watching over Caitlin. It was never said but she knew, at no point was she ever alone except to sleep.

Tonight was her first game back and it has been a love-hate relationship getting back on the court. Basketball has always been her love but it was off-putting being on the court without you. The two of you had played together for so long, neither of you had to think when it came to making things happen. Coming back to practice it was like learning a whole new sport.

As the team was in the locker room before the game - they were getting a talk from Coach Bluder before taking the court for the first game of March Madness.

"We are going to go out there and give our everything. There is nothing we are not ready for - each and every one of you has put in the blood, sweat, and tears and we are going to show the world that this is our time." She says getting the team fired up. Her final words bring silence among the group. "As we go out there, we are going out there incomplete. We are missing someone who has changed this team for the better and when we step foot onto that court, we are walking out there in her honor. Y/n will always be a part of this team and as she carried this team as captain before - she still does today."

Caitlin fiddles with the ring that would have wed the two of you and safety pins it to the left side of her sports bra. There was no way she was walking out there without you with her.

The team lines up in silence - ready to go out and honor you. And that is exactly what they did.

Iowa went 91-65, absolutely crushing the first round of March Madness. Your team fought its way back to the Final Four and Caitlin dedicated every game to you.

The night of the Final Four was a battle - UConn put up an amazing fight, but the Hawkeyes came out on top. After the game - it was decided that Caitlin would step into the post-game press conference. Her first one since your passing.

As she sits down, the crowd takes a second to settle, surprised seeing her out there considering she hadn't been in any of the previous ones despite being an all-star in each of them.

The press starts asking questions about the game and how the team was able to pull the win off. Everything was going smoothly until one reporter asked about you.

"Caitlin, there was a loss on your team right earlier in the season - how has that affected the team dynamic?" The reporter asks.

She was expecting someone to ask but even anticipating the question, it took her some time to gather her thoughts. Just as she was about to speak - Kate stepped up and responded for her. Caitlin was extremely thankful and when Kate was done she finally found the words she wanted to say.

"No one on this team has felt the loss of Y/n more than I have. She was my #1 on and off the court," she says beginning to get choked up. "Her absence is felt deeper than anyone can imagine and this team will never be the same without her."

'I will never be the same without her' is what Caitlin wanted to say but couldn't between the tears that began to fall. Kate passed her a towel, which she gladly accepted. She tried so hard to keep it together but it was all still so fresh.

That night, Kate and some of the other girls spent the night at Caitlin's so she wouldn't have to be alone. It had only been a few months but Caitlin was afraid she would never truly heal from you.

*One year later*

Caitlin was living out the dream the two of you talked about so often. She was in the WNBA and was playing for the Indiana Fever. She had an incredible rookie year and was currently at an awards night where she was going to receive the Rookie of the Year award.

The night was going well and it was time for the award presentation. When they announce Caitlin as rookie of the year, she ascends the stage and accepts the award, giving the commissioner a hug before taking her place to make her speech.

"First off, I want to say a huge thank you to my team - if it wasn't for them taking me in like they did, I wouldn't be standing here today. I want to thank my Iowa team who grew me and shaped me. Thank you to my parents and brothers for always pushing me and believing in me and my ability." She looks down at the award and at her hand that wears her ring. "The last thank you I want to give is to Y/n, my wife." She says it knowing the weight it holds but it comes out so naturally.

"I owe my everything to her. She was my supporter from day one and every day after that she wouldn't settle for anything less than my best. Even when I would say I was giving her my all - she would push me past that, strengthening me and showing me who I truly had the potential to become. I stand before you all today because of her love of this sport, and her love of me." Caitlin makes the slightest adjustment to look up, to anyone in the audience it looks like she is looking up at the balcony but all those who knew you, know that she is looking up to you. "Baby, we did it," she says as a single tear rolls down her cheek. "We are living out our dream."

AN: DON'T ASK ME TO APOLOGIZE BECAUSE I WON'T. Please let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

[heich0e]

choso/f!reader

The light from the signs that line the street around you makes a dull, irritating ache throb behind your eyes.

It’s a migraine. Or exhaustion maybe. Regardless of the cause, the pain carves its way through you like rot. You lower your eyes to the pavement, hoping that by averting your gaze from the fluorescents you may find some temporary reprieve.

It doesn’t help much.

You fish the little paper packet of cigarettes out from inside the small purse you wear over your arm. There are only three left in the pack, but you swear there should be more. You’d only bought them that morning—no, wait, yesterday morning, since you’d gone a night without sleep. You suck a little hiss of disappointed air in through your teeth, plucking out one of the last lonely cigarettes from inside the pack and then retrieving your lighter too. Though inadvisable by anyone medically qualified, you hope that maybe the hit of nicotine might help the headache while you wait.

Cigarette between your teeth, you lift your little yellow lighter to the end. Pressing down on the safety that covers the spark wheel you draw it quickly back, but the tiny flame that appears momentarily flickers out just as swiftly. You repeat the motion, pressing and dragging your thumb to light it, but you find no more success than you had upon your first attempt. Your lips pull into a tighter line, pressing into the spongey filter of the cigarette in frustration. You shake the lighter a few times, hoping that whatever meagre amount of fluid left in it might suddenly decide to make itself known.

You light it again.

Nothing.

“Here.”

You glance up.

Choso stands before you, his arm extended in your direction with a lighter in his hand. It’s green—a less neon shade than your own lighter—and has something scrawled across it in smudged ink that you can’t make out in the night. Your eyes meet, a momentary look passing between the two of you. Recognition. Greeting, maybe.

You don’t take the lighter from his hand. Instead, you steady the cigarette between your lips in the V of your fingers and lean towards him. He understands without it needing to be said, clicking his own lighter to life and holding it to the end until the cherry flares red on your inhale.

Your eyes meet again as you angle yourself into his space, closer now than before. The same street signs and their glowing lights that had been so irritating to you catch in his glassy brown eyes, framed by long lashes that flutter in a blink.

He looks tired. But he always looks tired, and you’re sure you’re not faring much better—so who are you to judge?

You pull away once your cigarette is lit, taking a drag and then blowing the smoke into the wind. 

“You’re late,” you say quietly. Not a hello, nor a thank you.

“Sorry,” he replies. “My little brother had cram school. I had to wait to make sure he got home safely.”

Itadori Yuuji—15, a high school student, not his brother by blood.

You nod a little bit, dismissive more than it is accepting, and take another long drag from your cigarette. 

Choso watches you raptly, his eyes following every movement. After some time passes, you hold the cigarette out to him in offering, though it’s mostly burned away.

“No, thank you,” he refuses you politely, dipping his head.

You finish the cigarette off, and then drop it to the ground and crush it under the pointed toe of your high-heeled shoe.

There’s a mint in your coat pocket, and you quickly pop it into your mouth to chase away the lingering taste of tobacco. You love the nicotine rush, but you still hate the bitter flavour that lingers on your tongue even after all these years. Choso watches that too—his eyes following your hand until the little white pastille slips behind your lips.

Your gazes meet.

You take a step towards him, wrapping your hands around his arm and tucking yourself against his side. It’s natural. Familiar. Easy. He smells like soap, and this close to him you can see the way his dark hair—down today, and tucked behind his ears, rather than in the two twists he often wears—is faintly wet, like he’s only just showered. 

“Let’s go.” 

Inside the shabby lobby, there’s only one person lingering—a man, standing behind the counter—who pastes on a small but notably insincere smile when you and Choso step through the door. 

“Good evening,” he greets you with a slight bow.

“A room, please,” Choso says to him, to the point but not unkind.

“For how long?”

You feel the man’s eyes on you then, and you know what he must be thinking. It’s not hard to tell, looking between you and Choso, what the two of you are doing—even less so at a love hotel on a seedy side of town where you can book rooms by the half-hour. The differences between Choso and yourself are many and obvious; what with your skimpy little dress and your heels in contrast to his jeans; raggedy, thick-soled combat boots; and windbreaker. And that’s to say nothing about the differences in your countenances: Choso looks stiff, uncomfortable even, under the scrutiny of the man at the front desk, but you’re largely unbothered by the judgement in his gaze. You lean a little more into Choso’s arm where you’re wrapped around it, tucking your face into his collar in a show of diffidence but you meet the man’s eyes with a flutter of your lashes. 

He licks his lips a little, a flush appearing just above the collar of his rumpled dress shirt, and you resist the urge to sneer in disgust.

Once the two of you receive the key to your room, you quietly make your way there—still sticking close to Choso’s side as you depart from the lobby towards the elevator. You don’t cross paths with another soul as you travel to your room on the third floor, the only sound to be heard is the mechanical fwoosh of the elevator as it climbs, the hum of the vending machine selling variously erotic wares you have to pass to make it to your room, and the quiet beep as Choso unlocks the door. 

Just as the two of you are about to step in, a door at the other end of the hall opens, and Choso swiftly wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you in front of him to usher you across the threshold first—using his body to shield you from the eyes of the man who passes down the corridor behind him as the door swings shut. There’s something almost charmingly conscientious about the gesture, though it seems to have been more unconscious than anything.

The room is just what you expect it to be. Plain. Somewhat sterile. Not uncomfortable, but not particularly homey, either. There’s a bed, two bedside tables, a television mounted at the foot of the bed. There’s a door that leads into the tiny washroom, where the shower seems to take up most of the floorspace. The room is dim, likely intentionally, even once you flick the overhead lights on.

“That guy was creepy,” you sigh, stepping away from Choso and further into the room towards the bed. 

“Who?” he asks.

“The guy at the counter,” you sniff, flopping down at the edge of the bed. You throw one leg over the other, crossing them at the knee, and lean back on your elbows against the mattress. The linen is surprisingly soft considering the inexpensive rate. “You’d swear he’s never seen a call girl before.”

Choso is still standing by the door, looking as uncomfortable as ever. He reaches up and rubs his neck, peering around the room seemingly just as an excuse not to meet your eyes.

“So,” you call to him, beckoning his wandering attention back to you. You tilt your head to the side once his gaze connects with yours. “Did you bring it?”

Choso’s hand flutters to the pocket of his dark windbreaker, and part of you wonders if he even knows he did it. You always find that part of him so curious—his sincerity. How easy he is for you to read. You can’t help but question if he’s like this with everyone, or if there’s something about you that makes him this way.

He nods.

The mint you popped into your mouth before entering the hotel has melted away to nothing on your tongue now, but the lingering freshness remains. You feel the mentholated burn as you suck in a little breath, a pleasant tingle in your throat.

“Let’s see it, then,” you say, holding out your hand expectantly.

He hesitates a little but then he approaches, pulling a creased envelope out from his jacket pocket and handing it to you. It’s folded in half, and theres a grease stain at the corner of the white paper envelope—not uncommon for a mechanic, you suppose.

Choso’s hands are always so clean when he meets you, though.

Inside the envelope is exactly what you came here for.

“This is perfect,” you remark, thumbing through the papers as your eyes quickly scan across the pages to surmise their contents. 

Choso is very still as he stands in front of you, towering over where you sit perched at the edge of the love hotel bed and watching as you flick through the papers he’s just delivered into your hands. There’s something sort of expectant in the way he waits for you to speak again.

“And you’re sure this is all of it?” you ask him, glancing up from the pages in your grip.

He nods. “That’s everything.”

“Gojo’s gonna lose his shit when I slap this on his desk,” you remark to yourself with a snort. You can already picture the absolute dismay on Satoru’s face when he realizes that you beat him to the punch in securing the information that he’s been after for weeks now. You’re sure he’ll be whining about it to Geto for days.

Choso fidgets slightly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Nice work, kid,” you commend him, looking up at him with a smile.

There’s a shift in expression on Choso’s face then—not quite a pout, but a definite air of disappointment or displeasure. He says nothing in spite of the look, and you don’t ask anything, either. That’s not what you came here to talk about, after all. For all intents and purposes, your businesses began and ended with the stack of papers in your lap.

Contained within the pages Choso brought to you is every vehicle (make, model, VIN number and plate) that Choso’s garage has worked on or modified for the crime syndicate currently wreaking havoc in the city under Sukuna’s command. 

“I’ve got your payment here,” you say, fishing out an envelope of your own from inside your purse. There’s enough cash inside the crisp manila envelop that you produce to reimburse the cost of the room he’d paid for and to compensate him for the information. “The rest of it went to the cram school to cover your brother’s tuition, as usual.”

Choso takes it from your hands, his long fingers brushing gently against your own as it passes between your grips, and he doesn’t even bother checking the contents before he slips it into his pocket. 

“Thank you, Inspector,” he says quietly, dipping his head in a bow.

Your lips purse as Choso stares down at his feet, observing the way he seems to be avoiding your gaze.

Choso’s been working as an informant for the past few years. It started off just passing small pieces of information here and there, having established a rapport with your previous chief in his late teens following the murders of his two brothers thanks to the early days of the gang that would eventually grow into Sukuna’s organization now. Choso was born into that life—cursed by his own blood—but he’s made a conscious effort in his adulthood to keep on the straight and narrow, largely for Yuuji’s sake.

You’ve been meeting him like this for a little over a year now, building your own relationship with him now that the chief retired. Choso’s mechanic shop sees all kinds of people coming in and out, good and bad, and he gleans a lot of information in his neutrality. He’s useful to you.

You understand the risk that Choso takes by meeting with you. By working for you. It’s a truth you recognize as well as he does. But he’s never hesitated to get you the information you ask for. Has never denied you anything you seek. All he asks in return is a meagre compensation and the assured safety and education of his little brother. 

You wonder why he’s willing to go so far, and for whose sake he does it.

You flop back onto the hotel bed, one hand resting over the papers in your lap to keep them from slipping onto the floor.

“I’m beat,” you complain, throwing your other arm up over your eyes and hiding your face in the crook of your elbow.

“You’re not sleeping?” the soft rumble of Choso’s low voice is strangely comforting like this.

You hum. “Haven’t been home in two days.”

“You need to rest,” he chides you, and there’s something funnily maternal in the way he says it. He’s suddenly every bit the big brother you know him to be. You shift your arm so you can peek up at him from where you’re sprawled across the bed. 

He’s inched closer to you since your eyes were covered, hesitating at the very edge of the mattress beside you. He’s staring down at you with a serious expression on his face, slightly pinched in reproach but softened at the edges with concern.

“Yeah, yeah,” you snort, lifting your hand and waving it dismissively. “I’ll get there eventually, kid.”

Choso catches your wrist in his hand before you can let it drop again, suddenly kneeling against the mattress so he’s looming over you. You’re surprised by the gesture, a sudden falter in the steady thumping of your heart as he stares down at you.

“I’m older than you,” he says quietly, somewhat sullen but simultaneously sheepish. His eyes bore down into yours. “Please stop calling me 'kid'.”

You know he’s right. You know just about everything there is to know about Kamo Choso on paper, having researched him and his background extensively before you got involved with him like this. You suppose you picked up the habit thanks to the chief, since that’s how he always used to refer to him. As Choso hovers over you, his big hand still wrapped around your wrist and his broad frame blocking the rest of the hotel room behind him from view, the truth of his remark rings palpably true.

You suddenly aren’t sure how to respond, your lips parting but no words slipping out.

Choso lets your hand drop after a moment, shifting to sit beside you on the bed. There’s no other seats in the small hotel room, so it’s not particularly unexpected, but you’re strangely conscious of him now in ways you don’t like.

“You should sleep here for a bit,” he says, his eyes glancing over to the clock on the bedside table. “We have the room for another hour.”

You don’t ever leave the hotel room before a realistically inconspicuous amount of time has passed, but suddenly the prospect of spending another hour with him makes your stomach twist.

“I’m fine,” you try to brush him off, sitting up and neatly stacking the papers so that you can slip them back into their envelope and tuck them safely into your purse. Your face feels hot, and that ache between your temples is back again. You contemplate another cigarette.

A gentle touch against your elbow makes you freeze.

You glance over at Choso from the corner of your eye, and find his dark gaze on you. His eyes are imploring, soft, and seemingly fathomless.

“Rest,” he insists again. “I’ll wake you before we need to leave.”

Your eyes scan his face. Your headache throbs.

There are a hundred reasons to deny him. A thousand reasons you shouldn’t listen to what he says.

But there’s one—a distant, whispered reason, that you don’t want to acknowledge—that tells you differently.

“Move over,” you grumble, letting your purse fall to the floor with a dull thud!

Choso obeys immediately, shifting so you can crawl into the bed beside him and rest against the pillows. You squeeze your eyes shut the minute your head hits them.

“You should at least take your shoes off,” Choso remarks. You flinch a little as you feel the warmth of his hand on your ankle, holding it steady as he gently slips your shoe from your foot. He repeats the same motion for the other. 

Your eyes remain shut. 

After a moment of stillness, you feel the mattress shift slightly and the warmth of his body recede. When you crack one eye open to survey what changed, you see that Choso’s slipped down to the floor, resting with his back against the side of the bed and his legs crossed underneath him. His eyes are shut now too, and you watch his profile for a moment as he breathes.

You close your eyes again.

“Wake me up in thirty minutes,” you mumble, and Choso hums in response. “I’ll leave first."

But even in the stillness of that little hotel room, even in your exhaustion, neither of you manages to fall asleep.

[sturniologals]

Car ride-M.S

Reader x Matt

-; warnings Smut (obvi), Praise kink, Dom!Matt, Cursing.

1.8k Words

My childhood best friend matt is standing outside of his house waiting on his date to pick him up and I can’t help but to wish that he would just walk across the street and confess his love for me and it would be us going out.

A black range rover pulls to the sidewalk, the street lamp on his sidewalk corner is the only light illuminating his features-and my god does he look good. I can feel my arousal growing as i shift on my bay window seat to try and get some friction but it does nothing.

Suddenly, the car is pulling away and matt is standing there looking annoyed, not sad- but bothered. I watch him start to walk up to his door but he stops at his porch steps and rubs his hands over his face in a stressful motion.

His cargo pants are hanging low on his waist and when his hands go up, his shirt strides up a bit revealing the bottom of his stomach. His V- line is perfectly carved and his skin looks oh so soft.

After a second of him seemingly stressing over something- he starts to walk over to my house.

This is an almost daily occurrence for us since the 3rd grade when i moved into this house and i started at the same elementary school as him but still- I can’t help but to feel the pit in my stomach anytime he comes over. My parents are gone out on their weekly date night so i’m home alone. The thoughts of what he could do to me race through my mind but they quickly shut off when i hear the doorbell and I quickly jog down the stairs, stopping in the hallway to check in the mirror, my freshly applied cherry lipgloss shining on my plump lips, my hair tied back in a low ponytail.

I take a moment to think about how i’m wearing just sweats and a t shirt but remember- it’s just matt. No need to stress, he’s seen me worse than this before.

I open up the door and matt is standing at my doorstep, anxiously cracking his knuckles. When i open the door wide enough for him to come in- he quickly does so. He doesn’t say anything and just starts to jog up my stairs, headed straight on the path to my bedroom that he’s came to know so well over the last 8 years.

“Matthew!” I shout trying to catch up with him.

I make it to my room, where he’s already sitting on my bed, his back against the headboard. He’s already discarded his sneakers onto the floor and is now draping one of my fuzzy blankets over his legs.

“Cmere y/n” he says as he throws an arm up for me to cradle into. this isnt anything weird for us. we’ve always been this close but in the last year, matts started to look different. better. His hair grew out and he started to dress better. He hit puberty which came with him growing to a 5 foot, 11 inches. compared to my 5 foot, 2 inches.

I don’t question him and i just crawl into my bed next to him and rest my head on his chest as his arm falls down and starts to rub up and down my arm. After a moment or so of silence, I start to debate on whether to ask what happened with his date.

“Matt?” i say, slightly tilting my chin up so i can see his face.

“Yeah y/n?” he says looking down at me.

“What happened with your date?” i say after finally working up the courage.

“Uhm-“ he shifts his body uncomfortably but continues to speak. “Mackie thought it was just a friend thing, i guess. so when she showed up and she had a bunch of friends with her, I got kind of annoyed and just wasn’t feeling it anymore.” He says in an unbothered tone.

“Wasn’t you clear on the fact that you liked her?” i say in a quiet voice.

“Woah not a fact. I didn’t like her, i was just slightly attracted to her and i just needed to-“ He stops talking and clears his throat. I can feel my cheeks go red as my mind understands what he’s trying to say and I feel a bulge grow beside my leg. i decide this is my chance to tease him.

“Ma-“ i start to sit up but he shoots up quickly “wanna go get food?” he says quickly standing up and putting his sneakers on. I am kinda hungry.

“Uhm yeah sure” I say with an awkward smile as i grab a blue hoodie out of my closet to throw on over my black t shirt.

“Ready?” he says, standing in my doorway. I nod and we go downstairs, I grab my car keys off the table and we both walk out the door.

“You drive” I say, tossing him the keys over the roof of my dark purple jeep Cherokee. He smiles and slides into the drivers seat.

I get into the passenger side and he immediately reaches over to buckle my seat belt. He’s done this ever since I was able to drive. He says i forget to do it so he just does it for me. His long, slender fingers sliding the buckle in sends a shiver down my spine. He turns on the ignition and I make sure my body is angling toward him. I pull my cherry lipgloss out of my pocket and apply it, once i feel his eyes on me, I move extra slow and run my tongue across my lips, acting as if i’m not paying attention to him but i can see him staring at me out of the corner of his eyes. “fuck” he mutters extremely quietly.

“Hm?” I say, turning my head back to face him.

“uh” he shakes his head “matt, are you okay?” i roll his name off of my tongue as seductively as i can as i lean over the middle console. We stop at a red light and i take the opportunity. “matt, look at me” he does so.

“Your acting weird.” i say once his eyes meet mine.

“You know what your doing y/n” he says lowly before the light turns green and he adverts his attention back to the road.

“I don’t know what your talking about.” i say with a slight giggle as he continues the drive to central downtown. “You know the reason mackie thought it was a friend thing is because of you right? she thinks we’re together.” matt says harshly while pulling over by a dark, empty field. “you’re gonna cock block me and then have the audacity to rile me the fuck up like this?”

His eyes grow dark as he unbuckles his seat belt and puts the car in park. His hand starts traveling up my thigh.

“I cock blocked you? how is that my fault that she thinks we’re together?” i spit out, my breathing heavy at the feeling of his touch.

“I see you y/n, eye fucking me anytime we’re near each other. You’ve been having those thoughts for a while now yeah?” He says, leaning extremely close now, our faces inches apart.

“Matt-“ my breathing hitches when he unbuckles me and pulls me onto his lap so i’m now straddling him.

“Fuck y/n. that lipgloss.” he says in a shaky voice while bringing his thumb up to my lips.

“Matt- don’t touch me if you don’t have feelings for me because you know damn well that i-“ i start to rant but he quickly presses his mouth to mine. I pull away quickly.

“So you do-“ i try to speak but his mouth is on mine again. His lips as soft as i thought they would be. His hands traveling up my sides, his grip firm as i feel his dick harden underneath me. I groan against the feeling as his tongue swipes against my lip seeking for entry which I allow. Our tongues gliding across one another in a fight for dominance. “Please” i groan quietly into his ear.

“please what baby? use your words.”

“touch me” i say into his ear as i start to kiss down his neck. he wastes no time as his hands quickly start to slide my sweatpants off. I move with him to make it easier for him to glide my pants off.

“fuck your drenched” he says breathlessly as he starts to rub my clothed pussy.

“Matt” i moan out.

“hm?”

“more” i  pant out.

“more of what baby? tell me what you need.” he says while kissing my neck. his lips tugging and nipping at my sensitive skin.

“you matt- i want-“ my face goes red not wanting to say it.

“Say it baby. use your words.”

“i want your dick” i muster up the courage to spat out. He shifts underneath me and lets out a whimper at my words. his erection must be painful by now. He quickly slides his pants down to his thighs and lets his member spring free from the confines of his boxers, the tip red and swollen, already leaking pre cum.

“It’s too big-“ i say starting to panic at his at least 8 inches.

“your gonna be a good girl and take it, yeah?” he says and i nod eagerly. He places his hands on my hips and i help guide him to my entrance, his tip gathering in my juices before sliding into me causing me to let out a loud moan. He gives me barely any time to adjust before he’s ramming into me at a steady pace.

“Your so tight” he grunts out before leaning his head back against the seat.

“Ma-“ my words are cut off by the involuntary noises that start stringing from me when he starts to fuck up into me. I can already feel my release building and by the way his legs are shaking i can tell he’s almost there too. “Such a good girl” he praises which makes me go faster chasing our highs.

“Fuck y/n-“ he grunts out as i release onto him with a yell and he shoots his load into me. His thrusts slow down, riding out our high as we both slow our breathing. He pulls out and i rest my head on his shoulder.

“you know i love you right?” he says quietly, almost as if he’s afraid i’ll actually hear.

“you’re not just saying that because of what just happened are you?” i say quickly out of fear.

“Fuck no. No y/n, I just never knew that you felt like that about me until tonight.” He says while petting the back of my hair soothingly.

“I love you too matt” i say, placing a quick kiss onto his lips.