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writingsbychlo · 5 months

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IS IT NEW YEARS YET? | lorenzo berkshire

summary; you're not a huge fan of new years, since when was it all about couples, anyway? luckily, someone else is in the same boat.

word count; 6712

notes; this is completely unedited, it's bound to be riddled with mistakes. this is the second to last christmas fic, just my baby mattheo to go! I saved the best for last.

Sitting at the table, you did your very best to hide the scowl sitting on your face. Pansy had left you only a moment ago to dance with Luna, Astoria had pulled Draco away onto the floor ages ago, and Blaise was off flirting up a storm with every girl possible. Regulus was sulking at the bar with his brother, while Mattheo and Theo had long since snuck away to smoke and hide from the party.

That just left you. Sat alone at the table, trying not to get too drunk as you watched all the happy couples around you mingle. The Christmas period had always been so fun, but lately, it only seemed to be a holiday for couples. Which, really wasn’t fair, in your opinion. They already had Valentine’s Day, why the fuck did they need this one, too?

However, everything seemed to be spinning around kissing at midnight, and dancing, and romance, and Luna’s bag full of grapes, for whatever that was about. You’d tuned out when she’d begun explaining.

Glancing around the room in search of the only remaining member of your party who was unaccompanied, perhaps a little reprieve from the loneliness, you spotted Enzo near his parent's table. He looked, in a single word, uncomfortable. Scratching at the back of his neck, he wore a scowl, and while you couldn't hear over the loud music and chatter what he was saying all that distance away, it was clear that he wasn’t happy.

His mother glared at him, and his anger dimmed only a second, a flash of fear in his eyes, a bob of his throat, but he didn’t back down. Finishing off the last of your drink and standing, the sequins of your dress glitter under the lights, falling perfectly in the simple, floor-length dress you’d chosen for the evening.

As you wove through the bodies, heels clicking on the floor, you started to be able to pick out the deep rumble of his voice throughout the other conversations. He didn’t have a great relationship with his parents. Certainly, not as bad as others in the group, but strained He rarely wrote them, he only ever went home at Christmas and Summer, and they never came to visit. In almost a decade of knowing Enzo, you’d perhaps spoken to them three times, and once, was merely your introduction.

“I’m not going to date a girl I don’t know just because you think I ought to!”

Your brows furrowed, stilling momentarily as his words raced through your mind. Regulus’ parents had tried to set him up with someone recently too, only six months ago, they’d sent him letter after letter about the eligible girls from other noble families he could woo. You’d gone pale upon discovering your own name on the list, quite highly ranked, and Regulus had assured you that as much as he loved you dearly as a friend, he had absolutely no interest in pursuing you romantically. Nor, any of the girls on the list.

However, you hadn't expected Enzo’s parents to leap on him so fast. Your mother had been making some subtle comments about relationships lately, but nothing nearly so bold, not since your break-up. Enzo dragged a hand through his hair as he groaned, this conversation obviously wasn’t going in his favour, and you pitied him.

In a generous mood, you finished your walk, closing in by his side and putting on the charming smile that you knew could win over any adult or peer, with a few simple words and a bat of your lashes. Anyone, except, perhaps Enzo’s mother. Her eyes narrowed on you as you placed a hand on Enzo’s lower back, standing respectably by his side, by far closer than could be considered friendly, as you smiled up at him.

“Enzo, sweetie, Draco is looking for you.”

“Wh— What?” His brows pulled together, obviously confused, and you slipped your arm around his waist, settling in by his side.

“Lorenzo, who’s your friend?” His mother’s cold tone sliced through the space between you as his gaze scanned over your features.

“Hi, Mrs Berkshire.” You held your hand out offering your name, and she only hummed, shaking it loosely before returning her hand to her side, elegantly. “I’m Enzo’s… well, we haven’t quite figured out terms yet, have we? I’m his date tonight… at least, I hope?”

He did well to hide his flicker of surprise, before finally seeming to understand the aim of the game, his arm snaking around your body like a boyfriend might do, and curling you further into his side. “Of course you are, darling.”

“Well, that’s good to know.” Your giggle was far more high-pitched and sweet than usual, but the tension bled from his mother’s shoulders just a fraction, as she analysed the pair of you. For emphasis, Enzo leaned in to press a polite kiss to your temple, and you stretched your smile wider, like a happy girlfriend would. “I’m so sorry to have interrupted, I promised Draco I’d find you, and you left me all alone at the table. I was starting to miss you, but now I see you were doing something important. I thought perhaps you’d snuck away with the boys.”

The piercing gaze of his mother drilled into you, but you didn’t falter, or show any weakness. In your social circles, one cowering sign was just an opening for snapping teeth at throats, and you wouldn't give anyone such an opportunity.

“Why would you now simply tell us that you had a date, Lorenzo?” His mother eventually questioned, finally dragging her stare away from you and back to her son, and you felt like you could breathe again at last.

“Well, as you heard my girl say,” He murmured, stumbling only slightly over the words, and recovering them smoothly with a cough. “We haven’t settled on any kinds of labels yet. I didn’t want to be presumptuous, or too forward.”

“And how long have you been seeing one another?” She wasted no time, raising a brow.

“Just two months.” You smiled, and she flickered her sights to you for only a moment. “You raised a real gentleman, Mrs Berkshire. He’s been so patient and sweet, it can be so hard to find times between classes to see one another and spend time together. We’ve been taking it slow. I apologise if I come as a surprise to you tonight, that’s my fault. I asked Enzo not to write to you, because I haven’t told my own parents yet, you see.”

Leaning in to whisper your joke, as if you were passing secret information;

“My father can be a little over-protective, I wanted to spare Enzo, so I knew my father wouldn't scare him away.”

At that finally, a smirk broke on her lips. She made a vague sound of agreement, and you could feel your friend relax a little where your hand was rubbing his side, gently. “Well, I suppose I can understand that. Lorenzo, you may leave for now. But I do not expect to be kept in the dark on such matters again.”

Waggling a finger at him, he only nodded, eyes wide. “Of course, Mother. It won’t happen again.”

Leaning in to kiss her cheek, he gave a hurried goodbye, before steering you away with his arm still around you, and guiding you back toward the other side of the room. When you were far enough away he knew his parents wouldn't hear them, he let out a shaky laugh, and turned to look down at you.

“I don’t know if you’re brave, stupid, or both. Taking on my mother like that? Impressive, and also insane.”

“You have a funny way of saying ‘thank you’, Berkshire.” You tutted, and he only grinned. Dipping down, he kissed your cheek now, coming to a stop beside your table.

“Thank you, for saving me back there.”

“Well, you seemed like you needed a save.” You shrugged, his arm still looped around your waist, hand on your lower back, rubbing lightly as he looked around the room.

“You don’t have an actual date, right?” Leaning in, his breath brushed your ear, and you shuddered at the feel, “Because there’s a guy over there glaring at me like I kicked his dog.”

His fingers touched your cheek, guiding your gaze to casually follow where he had been looking. As your eyes fixed on the man on the other side of the dance floor, you hardly concealed a scoff. He wasn’t glaring, so much as staring with curiosity now that you were the one looking. He smoothed a hand up his girlfriend’s leg as she sat beside him engaged in another conversation, not noticing where his attention now lingered.

Turning your gaze away with a heavy sigh, your motions caused you to curl a little further into Enzo, who leant back enough to look down at you. “Is that the dickhead-ex that broke up with you in a letter a few months ago?” He whispered, and you could only nod, swallowing back the lump in your throat.

Over him, you might be, but that didn’t make it sting any less. You’d suspected for a while he might be cheating, based on how soon he’d moved on, how ingratiated into his social circles she seemed, but this was the first time you’d ever seen her.

She was pretty.

“That would be the one.” You replied, and Enzo only hummed, freeing his other hand from his pocket to tip your face up, an act that was far more intimate than any touch the two of you had ever shared. His thumb smoothed over your cheek, flicking a gaze back to the other side of the room and smirking slightly. “I don’t need to make him jealous, Enz. As much as I appreciate the sentiments, this is unnecessary.

It wasn't needed, but you couldn't deny it felt good. Felt good to be held again, to settle your hands on someone’s chest, to feel his steady heartbeat under your palm as he touched you so tenderly. “I know, but isn’t it nice? To make him see what he let go, to show him how you should’ve been treated. We’re stuck together all night anyway, might as well make it count for you too.”

“Why is it that we’re stuck together?” You murmured, scowling a little at his choice of words, even more so when he only chuckled. You both knew he didn’t mean it like that, but it felt better to channel a little bitterness than let in the hurt.

“My parents now believe we’re a couple. Your heroic act of saving me now has consequences.” He clicked his tongue, his hand smoothing down to your neck, thumb under your chin to force you to look up at him.

“I figured you’d sneak away to see the other boys once I got you out.”

“And abandon my doting girlfriend who comes to my rescue?” He gasped dramatically, shaking his head, and a small laugh fell from your lips. “I would never. So, what do you say? I’m in your debt, let me be your real date for the night. I promise I’m a fun date.”

“You don’t have to beg, Lorenzo. I’ll let you be my date.”

“Oh, you haven’t seen me beg yet.” He smirked, a wicked look glinting in his eye, before he stepped back from you. Slipping the hand from your waist to slip into your own, he grasped tightly. “How about we go and get a drink?”

“I have a drink.”

“A real drink. I hate champagne, and I know you do too.” He cringed at the sight of your half-drunk glass, and didn’t wait for an answer, beginning to lead you both through the party and towards the bar.

Settling in together, he pulled out a stool for you, tapping at the surface of it for you to sit on. When you shifted towards it, his hands settled on your waist, boosting you up to sit on it, and winking at the surprised sound that slipped free.

He flagged down the bartender with a quick wave, before stepping in closer to your side, his hand finding a home on your lower back once again. Your spine was stiff, and you tried to convince yourself to relax, mumbling your drink order to the waitress as she passed by and took them both.

Leaning back into his touch, he responded in kind, hand rubbing up and down your back softly, and turning to face you. Twisting your body on the stool, your knee bumped into his thigh, and your hand dropped to sit over the top of his on the bar before you.

“So, didn’t expect your parents to be pushing your impending marriage so hard.” You murmured, tracing a finger over the prominent veins and marks in his hand, along each finger, all the way to the tips until they twitched, before returning to the back of his hand. On one finger sat a prominent family ring, the Slytherin ring on his thumb, and a couple of varied bands stacked amongst the others. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel like I’m far too young to be considering marriage. I haven’t seen the world yet, I’ve never been in love. Not— Not that soul-shredding, intense kind of love. I want to experience that at least once. I want to pick my own wife.” He shook his head, casting you a downtrodden look, a pout on his lips. “Doesn’t seem like that’ll be in the playing cards for me.”

“You could always leave. After we graduate, we get to leave. Maybe you should just… run.”

He only raised a brow at you, shaking his head slightly. It was a stupid suggestion, really. There wasn’t a place he could go that he wouldn't be followed by the reputation of his family, of his magical status. Unless he were to give it all up, disappear as a muggle, and spend the rest of his life feeling like he’d chopped off a limb, or had a vital organ removed.

“Sorry. Dumb thing to say.”

“No, it was sweet. You were just trying to be comforting.” He whispered, and the drinks were placed down before you both. Pushing your drink to you with two fingers, you tapped them together gently, glass clinking, before taking a sip of your cocktail. “I might milk this little situation you’ve gotten us into for a while, though. Let my parents believe I’m courting you back at Hogwarts, and when we call it quits, I’ll be heartbroken. I’ll tell them I need time to get over you.”

Shaking your head with a small laugh, the sound brought a smile to his face.

“I’ll milk that one too. I reckon I can buy myself… at least a year, all in all.”

“Only a year, is that all my fictional love is worth?” You raised a hand to your chest, and he stepped even closer, playing into the act as his arm tightened around your waist.

“You’re right. You're the one. When you leave me, I’ll be devastated. I’ll never get over it. You’ll be my one that got away.” He gave a heavy sigh, a groan at the end of it, slumping slightly into the bar and only increasing his dramatics as you giggled. “Don’t leave me, I’ll be better! I’ll buy you more flowers, I’ll stop sleeping with my secretary!”

You were gathering odd looks at his declaration, an older couple behind you tittering disapprovingly but you didn’t care. Not as he straightened back up, standing closer to you still, and smiling at you so widely. Your cheeks flushed as he took in your features, and you sipped at the cold alcohol in your glass, fingers raising to your cheeks to hide the blush.

“Truly, though. Thank you. That was sweet of you, you didn’t have to step in for me.”

“I know, but you’re my friend. One of my best friends. I know you’d help me out in a pinch, too.” Your hand fell back to his, toying with the house ring on his thumb, and he twisted his hand to give you better access. Such a small gesture, but you appreciated it nonetheless, as he fed into your anxious habits with no extra thought, your chest flooding with warmth and gratitude for him.

“I would, but, my parents are more than just a pinch. You were brave, my mum likes to pride herself on being intimidating.”

“She doesn’t have to like me, but I knew she wouldn't hurt me.” He raised his brows, silently questioning, and you looked at his hand. Unfolding his loose fist, you laced your fingers through his. “You were there with me. I knew she wouldn't hurt me.”

His hand tightened around yours, and his throat bobbed slightly. Lifting your raised hands, he kissed your knuckles softly. Instead of finding words to respond, he used gestures, his eyes fixed on yours as everything that needed to be said shone in them. He wasn’t his parents you saw him for that and trusted him. This was real, it wasn’t just for show, and when he moved his lips from your skin, you cupped his cheek with your other hand.

“I know you’re good, Enzo.” You whispered, a fragile tone for just him to hear over the music, and his smile wobbled from flirty to heartfelt. “You’ve been my friend for so long now, I feel pretty confident in saying I know who you are.”

“Thank you.” His words came on a rushed sigh, and you swiped your thumb across his cheekbone one final time, before pulling away to clasp your drink and take a sip. He kept a tight grip on your other hand, though, clasping it to his chest momentarily, before resting your joined hands back on the bar. “So, what have I got to do to get you to dance with me out there?”

“Oh, no. I don’t dance at these things.” You shook your head quickly, and his grin only stretched at that prospect. At the look on his face, you waved a finger at him. “I have never danced at one of these things before. You aren’t the first guy to ask. I. Don’t. Dance.”

“I say you can.” He snickered, humming a fragment of the song as your eyes rolled. Leaning in a little closer to him, his wicked, flirty smile was back. Your nose brushed his.

“Not a chance.”

He seemed to accept the challenge, finishing off the whiskey that was in his glass. He wasn’t giving up, and you knew for certain that once Enzo set his mind to something, he achieved it. He waved to the bartender again, ignoring her flirty smile as he placed his order with two fingers raised, “Can I get two shots of tequila, please?”

“Make it four.” You muttered, and his eyes sparkled as he corrected himself. Finishing off your own drink, you pushed the empty glass toward his own, nothing but an overly saturated berry left in the bottom. “How’d you know tequila is my go-to for shots?”

“Because, my darling, I am observant. In fourth year, you legitimately gagged when we gave you Sambuca to try and you refuse to touch it even to this day, you say vodka tastes like nail polish, and you never drink whiskey or rum. And, only a psychopath would shoot gin.” His nose scrunched up, and four shot glasses were soon placed down before you, each one being filled up, a few droplets escaping to the bar. A dish of salt and limes followed, and you awed silently over it as he wiggled his brows.

“Fancy, we get the fruit, too.”

“Always impressive these days, every family trying to one-up each other with parties.” He handed you your first shot, clinking your glasses together and spilling some of the sticky amber liquid onto your fingertips. Sprinkling salt on your hand, he winked, “Cheers.”

Licking the salt from his own fingertips, you copied, licking the substance from the back of your hand. Quickly, you did your first shot, then the next, and before you could even reach for one, Enzo was pushing a slice of lime between your lips. He’d surely smudged your lipstick, and juice was now running down your chin, but he caught it with a quick swipe of his thumb, grinning around the citrus in his mouth as he sucked it dry, and winced.

Pulling the lime out from between your teeth, laughter soon spilt over in its place, and you left the half-drained slice in one of the empty glasses. Licking the tips of your fingers for the remaining tequila, Enzo watched, eyes a little foggy, as you cleaned up. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“Why?” You muttered, and he leaned in again, invading your space as the woodsy smell of his cologne overpowered you, making you want to press your face into his neck. Instead, you held his gaze, with bated breath.

“Because it’s hot. And I’m only so strong.”

“Are you flirting with me, Enz?” You smirked, watching as he offered you his hand. Taking it, you hopped down from the bar stool, waiting for the effects of the shots to kick in, ready to welcome the numbing buzz they’d carry.

“Most definitely. You like it?”

“I do, actually.”

Linking your arm through his own as he led you slowly to the dance floor, he patted your hand on his bicep. “You could try to sound less shocked by that. I’m great at flirting.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve seen you put it into use before. That pretty smile, a few sweet words and a wink, you normally have women falling at your feet.”

As you reached the edge of the floor, he turned to face you, settling a hand on your hip, and tugging you in closer than needed. “But not you? Because you’re different to other girls.”

“Oh, no. I’m just like other girls. And it would work on me too, if I didn’t know you so well. Unfortunately, I’ve watched you throw up in your own shoe and eat food off the floor. You’ll have to work a little harder to get me.” Pinching your fingers between your faces to show a gap, he watched, before taking that hand and placing it on his shoulder, smoothly.

“I love a good challenge.”

With that, he was sweeping you across the floor, your shocked laughter breaking free as he spun you suddenly into the madness of the dance floor. Perfected routines and perfect dances, and even in your addled mind, the steps began to come back to you. You’d always thought that there was something so eerie about the dances, the melancholic music that played, always building to a crashing crescendo.

It felt like music with a tragic tale, spinning and dipping and dancing, like a Shakespeare play given music instead of words. Rows of perfectly organised dancers, all moving in perfect sync and harmony.

Luckily, tonight, that structure seemed to have fallen apart a little. Various levels of dancing skills were taking place. Some were just swaying, others were performing flips and spins that made you dizzy, as you and Enzo settled somewhere in the middle. His hand tight on your waist, the other clasping your own, he spun you between people, guiding you towards the centre of the floor.

“I thought you said you didn’t dance!”

“I don’t, that doesn’t mean I can’t. My mother had me in lessons three times a week as a child. I am an excellent dancer.” Glancing around, it was mercifully informal tonight, not the regimented performances it sometimes could be. “This whole… thing. It just creeps me out sometimes.”

“When they all dance in perfect, synchronised lines, like some kind of terrifying ballet performance?” He muttered, smiling and nodding as you wove past an older couple.

“Yes!”

“I get you,” He hummed, shuddering a little. Ahead of you both, Draco was spinning a smiling Astoria, and he looked utterly exhausted by this point. She didn’t seem ready to stop dancing any time soon, though.

As he spun you back in, your arm wrapped around his neck this time, holding yourself closer to him and calming the crazy dance he’d drawn you into. He was smiling himself, cheeks flushed from the exertion, and as you began to move into a slower sway, his cheek came to rest against the top of your head.

“You ever dance at one of these parties with your ex?”

“I told you, I don’t dance.” You mumble, the arm around his neck sliding, hand slipping to brush lightly at the hair on the base of his neck. He stretched his head a little further, leaning into the touch with a soft sigh.

“You didn’t dance,” He corrected cheekily, pinching at your hip, and your eyes rolled upwards at his pedantic behaviour. “Your ex is watching us.”

“I told you, I don’t care.”

He made a vague noise before turning you subtly, so that you could see him now. The displeased look on his face, the narrowed eyes as he watched you and Enzo, and the way he turned in a flustered rush once he realised you’d caught him. “You may not care, but I’m getting a sick sort of satisfaction from it. I had to watch you hurt over him, even when you tried to pretend you weren’t. The way your face fell that day in the hall when you opened that letter, I’ll never forget it.”

“Enz…” Your whisper is barely audible, his own words mumbled by your ear so low they were barely decipherable. Goosebumps still rose along your skin at the snarl he made, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he shook his head.

Dipping down, he pressed a kiss to your cheek, so tender and loving that you felt your heart skip in your chest. “He’s a dick, and I wish I could do a lot more to him than just pork a few holes in his ego tonight. He deserves a right kicking.”

“I was over him long before that letter came. The distance had been growing.”

“Maybe so, but he’s still a prick.” Turning you around and around in slow circles, you gained and lost sight repeatedly each scene just a little different from the last. He was putting on a show, that was for sure, as Enzo took you for turns around the dance floor. One moment he had his new girlfriend in a passionate kiss, the next she was laughing as she stared up at him, the next, whispering sweet words in her ear.

If you could see it, you were sure Enzo could too, his grip tightening on you protectively. Leaning up, you returned the affection, pulling his focus back to you as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Let’s go get another drink, yeah? I could use some hydration after all this dancing.”

He looked right through you, like he knew it was a distraction, and yet he nodded anyway, jaw clenched. This time, you took one of his hands in both of yours, leading him through the crowd as his fingers clutched your own.

Settling at the bar, you called for two waters, before turning your gaze back to him.

“Wish I could just push them both in the fireplace, and watch them burn.”

His words made your eyes widen slightly, and you pressed a glass into his hand the moment they arrived, encouraging him to drink. “Enzo, why are you so bothered about this all of a sudden?”

“Because— Because I can see him now! And he’s a jackass, and I’m already mad enough about my parents, and the fact it’s this stupid day. I need something to channel my anger into, and he’s a mighty good conduit.” He took another swig of his drink, jaw clenching as he slammed the empty glass down and licked his lips.

Placing a finger on his chin, you twisted his head to you, and he softened slightly as he looked. “Not a fan of New Year's, huh?”

“Not a fan of the holidays in general. Especially once I have to go home.” Your heart clenched for him. The expression on your face must’ve given you away, because he soon shrugged. “I used to love the holiday period, but nowadays, all my parents do is get at me. Plus, being single at Christmas sucks, y’know? Since when was this time all about love? I thought it was supposed to be about generosity and love and whatever. Now it’s all about couples.”

Your jaw dropped a little, and his brows furrowed.

“What?”

Enzo had just echoed the exact sentiments you’d been thinking about only a couple of hours ago, and a breathless laugh escaped you as you shook your head. At least he understood you. “Nothing. Just, I was thinking the same thing, earlier.”

“Great minds.” He whispered, shaking a little tension out of his body and closing his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, the fire was dulled, sweet sparkle back, and he loosed a heavy breath. “Sorry. That got heavy.”

“I’m always here for you to talk, Enz.”

He smiled, eyes closing again as he rested his forehead on yours, tugging you in with arms around your waist for a hug. His face moved, chin hooking over your shoulder, with a kiss pressed there as he did, which sent your pulse skyrocketing at the feel of his lips on your skin. “I love you, you know that, right? You’re one of the most important people in my life.”

“Love you too, Enzo…” You murmured, running your fingers through his hair. He pulled away, a shy smile on his face, and he nudged your glass to you this time.

“Drink up. I want to get you back out on that dance floor. I take pride in knowing I’m the only man you’ll dance with.”

“Because you’re the most insistent man I’ve ever met. I know that if I said no, you’d only spend the whole night bugging me.”

“It’s charming how well you know me.” He teased, and your eyes rolled, resulting in a soft slap to the outside of your thigh as he tutted at you, mumbling about your attitude. “Oh, incoming.”

“Who—” You barely got the word out before an arm was slung over your shoulder, a heavy weight following as they leaned on you. Mattheo beamed at you lazily when you turned your head to see. Theo soon followed, shuffling his feet a little, and rubbing at his eyes. The second he saw the half-drunk glass of water in your hands, he lunged for it, managing to get the whole thing down in one go, without evening coming up for breath. “Jeez, how baked are you two?”

“Theo brought some good shit this time,” Mattheo murmured, kissing his fingers and waving them to the air, and Theo gave a delayed scoff after a couple of seconds.

“I always bring good shit.”

“Agree to disagree.” Mattheo smiled, bopping his friend on the nose, as Enzo only laughed.

“So, that’s where you two have been, huh? Outside smoking all night.”

“Not all night,” Theo smirked, waggling his brows as he produced his phone from his back pocket. “I spent a good deal of time flirting. I got six girls’ numbers, and Matt here only got four.”

He set off snickering as Mattheo only grumbled, and the moment he loosened his hold on you, you slipped free so he could lean against the bar instead. You didn’t get far, not before Enzo was snaking an arm around you, and tugging you into his chest. Theo might have been higher than a kite, but he didn’t miss the way Enzo’s touches trailed over your back, settling low on your spine. He smirked, eyes glinting when Enzo dropped an absentminded kiss to the top of your head.

“So, what’s new with you two?”

“We’re dating now.” Enzo beamed, and Mattheo spluttered over his drinks order, the bartender wandering way as Mattheo turned to face you, and Theo’s jaw dropped. “Or, at least, that’s what we’re letting my parents believe, so they’ll hop off my dick about marrying some stranger.”

You pat his chest for his use of words, and he shrugged. Finally, Draco seemed to have persuaded Astoria to let him go. She was now happily dancing with her sister, as Draco stumbled over to your group at the bar, and collapsed down onto a free stool.

“That girl has more energy than a toddler on crack.”

“Interesting metaphor.” You said, and Draco only patted his chest, sticking an extra glass of water and a whiskey onto Mattheo’s order as he tried to get a drink once again. Turning his gaze back to you, those grey eyes slid from head to toe, a pale brow raising.

“What’s with you two?”

“Haven’t you heard, Dray?” Theo mused, “They’re dating.”

He had a similar reaction to the other two, equally as entertaining until the news was broken, and you hid your laughter in Enzo’s shoulder. He was smiling, hiding his own amusement in your hair, his fingers playing with the tips as the strands spilt down your back.

The night went on much the same, hours blurring by as more friends came and went, joining you in the group, before being pulled away. For a while, you sat on the stool beside Enzo, listening to Mattheo retell the story of their competition to get numbers.

You let Enzo pull you onto the dance floor again, and even Mattheo, who swung you off-beat and out of sync to a song in his head, certainly not the one being played, but it made you laugh until your stomach hurt, so it was worth it. You danced with the girls too, and exchanged gossip in hushed whispers as you moved across the checkered floor.

It always ended with you stumbling back to Enzo, progressively building more of a buzz as the night went on, falling back into the security of his arms. And he was always there, smiling, tucking hair behind your ear and kissing your forehead as he asked you whether you were having fun. For the first time in a long time at one of these events, you could say yes.

Only as the hour was finally approaching midnight, less than fifteen minutes to go, did you all leave. Mattheo ordered several bottles of champagne, gathering two in his hands and passing two more to Theo. Then, he was commanding you all to follow him, and marching away without another word.

You shared a look with Enzo, before hopping down, following after him with an equally puzzled group. Your hand found Enzo’s quickly, a comfortable act that had become familiar far too quickly, but just for tonight, you didn’t care. Not as Mattheo led you down all and corridors, away from all the noise.

Not as he led you all up, until you were exiting onto the roof. Below you, chatter filled the courtyard as the party guests began to file out onto the patio, ready to witness the fireworks. The view would be uninterrupted from here, a perfect view of it all, and a contented sound left your lips.

Staring up at the night sky, stars twinkled in the cold void, and you rubbed one arm lightly as you stared into the vast openness. Only a second later, a jacket was slipping over your shoulders, and Enzo was turning you to him, guiding your arms through each of the sleeves, bashfully.

“Told you I was a good date.” He winked, hand on your back as you followed the rest of your friends to sit down.

“You said you were a fun date,”

“Well then, I’m a good and fun date.” He effectively ended the conversation with a kiss to your cheek, hand sliding dangerously low on your back as you gathered with the others. A couple of benches and boxes were up here, stacks of pallets for makeshift seating, and you settled onto one, Enzo following you down.

Once you were sat, he pulled you in, tucking you into the heat of his side, and you curled in closer, twisting to face him. “Tonight has been… wonderful. Thank you.”

“Are you kidding? Thank you.” He whispered, nose brushing your hairline as the words were whispered onto your skin. “Tonight has been one of the best nights I’ve ever had, and I never thought I’d say that about one of these parties.”

You fiddled with the edge of the sleeves hanging over your palms, grinning at him. Your head fell to his shoulder, and your gaze moved to scan over your friends. Draco and Astoria were cuddling equally as sweetly, as were Blaise and Daphne. Luna and Pansy were nowhere to be seen, but Tom and Reggie stood at the edge of the roof, talking quietly. Mattheo and Theo were bent over laughing, trying to pop the corks on the bottles, and almost taking out each other’s eyes each time.

When a bottle was passed to you and Enzo, fizzing over the top and foaming on the wooden palette you perched on, you took a sip. The bitter liquid fizzed on your tongue just as the countdown began to sound from all of the people below.

“Ten, nine, eight…” Mattheo screamed, arms held up in the air with his excitement.

“Seven, six, five…” You murmured, sitting up straighter as the anticipation of the new year came in.

“Four, three, two…” Enzo joined you, your face turning to smile at him as you heard his voice mix with yours.

“One.” You spoke, just as Enzo leaned in. His lips closed over your own, warm and spicy from the lingering remnants of firewhiskey, and you groaned against his mouth. As you did, his hand slipped up to your cheek, angling your head just right as his tongue slid into your mouth.

He kissed slow, and deep, like he had all the time in the world to be here. You were gripping his shoulder, kissing back with just as much passion, sliding closer to him until there was no space between your body and his. Your thigh pressed to his own, his hand on your cheek slipping into your hair as he pulled back for a breath, just to dive right back in.

And you loved it, leaning forward, chasing his lips, kissing him until you couldn’t think straight, couldn't think at all, unless it was about him.

Finally, he pulled back, to the cheering and celebrating of your friends as the New Year rolled in. Fireworks began to explode behind you, and you sighed, breath clouding in the night air and floating up to the sky. Licking the taste of him from your lip as you panted, his nose bumped your own.

“What was that for?” You mumbled, the way he kissed you still playing over and over again in your mind like a loop.

“Because when we go back,” He stole another kiss, your lips stretching in a smile as his palm engulfed your cheek. “I’d love to take you on a real date.”

You’d never looked at him like this before, never let yourself consider what it would be like to date Enzo. That urge had never arisen, everything between you both had always been platonic, he was one of your best friends. Now, as those pretty eyes opened up to stare at you, he was anything but platonic.

He was pretty, in a way you’d acknowledged but never appreciated before. Loyal in a best friend way, but would doubtless be a wonderful boyfriend. He was doting, and kind, and sweet. He was cheeky and funny and caring. He was here, and interested, and if tonight had proven anything, it was your compatibility.

You and Enzo worked well together, you made a great couple, and for the first time ever, he was staring at you in a way that made you think he wanted to take your clothes off. And you liked it.

The choice seemed clear.

“I’d like that too, Enzo.”

#lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire/reader #lorenzo berkshire/you #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire/reader #enzo berkshire/you #harry potter #HP #slytherin boys #louis partridge

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cowyolks · 10 months

Text

TO DULL THE SHOVELS & SMOKE

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Reader

Prompt: In which Simon Riley doesn’t hear the gunshots and yells when he’s around his next door neighbor.

Words: 4.2k

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of gore, mentions of torture based on the Ghost comics, drinking, major PTSD.

At first, it annoyed him.

The thin walls of his Manchester apartment blocked absolutely no sound. From one end, near his desolate kitchen, he heard the half-arsed sounds of a couple at all hours of the night. At the other end, nearly midnight on the dot, a bow would pull over strings.

He thought it to be a violin, but the sound was so horrendous and screeching that he couldn’t quite figure it out. Never less, he couldn’t find it in himself to move from the spot on his hard mattress.

It wasn’t like he could sleep anyways.

Gunshots bled into his ears warm and sticky, curses and cries of civilians slammed against his chest and made his eyes feel like sinking weights. Bombs screeched and blinded him, even though he could see the shadows of his wardrobes and chipped wallpaper.

He was there. On the battlefield.

That was until a particularly awful note would catch his ears, digging through all the horrible sounds of war.

It would make the corners of his lips perk up, especially when he heard the gentle curse of the “musician.” He figured horrible orchestral music would do rather than gunshots. He even managed to acquire at least an hour of sleep before he was stirred awake again by the sounds of death.

He’d wake up as he always did. A horrific grunt and a call for his teammates. It was pathetic, but the usual. Simon couldn’t recall the last time he woke up refreshed. He hadn’t slept well in decades, even his childhood was thrashed with harassment from his father who kept him up. He maybe had a couple good nights of rest as a recruit, while his brother and mother were still alive and his father was long gone festering in the hospital with cancer.

Still he was used to the dark circles under his eyes and the constant urge to yawn.

He’d gone about his civilian life as he usually did. Wake up in a sweat, take a cold shower, drink some breakfast tea, and watch the news. That was until three knocks sounded from his door chipping green paint. He had half the mind to ignore it, Simon didn’t know anyone around the area— After all, he was a Ghost. He chewed on his lip, If it was a threat they wouldn’t have knocked. He settled on placing his steaming mug on the wooden side table and huffing to stand. Curiosity won him over as his creaky joints shuffled its way over to the door.

He creaked it open only a couple inches, cautiously glancing around to see no one in the hallway. Scratching his five o’clock shadow, he blinked, feeling slightly paranoid that maybe he was imaging the knocking. That was until his dark eyes settled upon a half open box of what looked to be tea bags.

A note lay scotch taped to the front, written in the most interesting handwriting Simon had seen.

Heard the screams, I won’t pretend to know what it’s like. I figured you wouldn’t want me to pester you, so I’ll save you from the awkward small talk and leave these here. Not sure if you’re a tea person, but they help me sleep.

-your next door neighbor

He couldn’t find himself to move for a short while. His brain clashed in conflicts, as if he couldn’t settle on a single emotion to feel. It swarmed him at once— annoyance, embarrassment, gratitude.

His neighbor had took time out of their day to drop tea off at his door. He tried to think back to when the last time someone had done something genuinely nice for him. Besides his makeshift family of broken soldiers, he couldn’t think of a single occurrence. Zeroing in on the box, a twitch in his nose gave away his reluctance of the flavor. Lavender and Chamomile. So different than his simple breakfast tea.

But, it wouldn’t hurt to try it. Maybe then he’d be able to silently thank the mysterious neighbor for a good night of sleep.

He figured out who you were when he’d exited the shaky and completely unsafe lift onto his floor. In the crook of his arm he carried a brown paper sack full of his weekly groceries. It wasn’t the most fanciful of ingredients, the most extravagant being simple cuts of chicken breasts. He’d shoved the bag further into his grasp, reaching into his dark colored jeans for his room key when he heard your muffled curse.

You were hunched over your doorknob, pulling helplessly on the metal to unlock it. Hurriedly he changed his footfalls, switching from silent to knowingly hitting the creaks in the aged carpet. Your head tilted at the unpleasant noise, eyes widening in embarrassing anticipation.

It took Simon a moment to truly access the situation. It was as if his brain had slammed into a wall, colliding and knocking all of his thoughts astray. When he finally did come to his senses, the only thought he could repeat was— pretty.

Simon would be the first to admit that he had not been around many women in his life. Therefore, he didn’t have much to draw comparisons to—regardless you had to be the most beautifully unique person he had ever seen.

You wore a knitted sweater, likely homemade by the barely noticeable tears of threads and flaws. His eyes filtered down to your jeans, then his attention drew to the absolutely ridiculous socks clad to your feet and ankles. Bright purple, decorated with pink polka dots. He’d glanced up, embarrassingly distracted enough to not be able to listen to your moving lips.

“Hmm?” He grunted, thankful for his black surgical mask that covered half of his face. He felt secure being covered, as if all the bad things couldn’t penetrate through the flimsy material.

“Oh! Sorry for mumbling,” you apologized, which made Simon’s head tilt to the side. Why apologize for his lack of hearing?

You cleared your throat, releasing the doorknob from your hands and instead twisting them together in a nervous habit. It seemed you could hardly sit still, all in the span of thirty seconds Simon caught on to your spastic fingers and tapping foot.

“I don’t suppose you know how to pick a lock?” You squeaked, instantly cringing at the horribly put together question.

“Excuse me?” Simon spoke, a hint of surprised amusement coating his tongue. Of course he knew how to break into buildings and pick locks, but you didn’t need to know that.

“I uh, locked myself out of my apartment. I forgot my purse and I keep my keys in there. I was just in a rush for food before my favorite place closes, and well— I’m rambling.” You sputtered, looking like it would be a better option to break through your door than stand under his burning stare.

He didn’t expect himself to extend towards you, settling his bag of groceries on the floor near his door. You slid out the way as he approached, not before he caught a pleasant whiff of lavender and something floral.

Simon shuffled in the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a floss pick from the material. Call it his nagging habit, but he hated having shit in his teeth. He wasn’t used to eating or drinking with his balaclava on at work, so on the rare occasions he ate, it absolutely irritated him. Now the floss pick came in handy as he bent the hard plastic to fit into the lock of your door.

He was aware of your stare as he lay crouched, catching the puzzled yet intrigued look from his peripherals.

“Are you some type of cop?” You blurted, making Simon’s lips peek up in a half arsed amusement. A cop? This girl was funny.

“No,”

With a final click, your door creaked open with a whine of its hinges. He rose off the old carpet with a sigh, immediately going back to his groceries so he could be left in his solitude. Then before he could reach down and pick up the bag, your words cut him short.

“Thank you. Um… did you like the tea?” It was a simple question, but not one he was expecting. “It was alright.” He lied, the untouched box still rested on his cold countertops.

“You didn’t like it did you?” You chuckled, reading right through him. All he gave was a shrug of his shoulders, not confirming nor denying. “I knew it. You probably drink your tea black and food bland.” You teased lightheartedly, making an equally playful offended sound fall from Simon’s lips. It occurred to him that he’d smiled more in these last five minutes than he had in a whole year.

“It’s only for mature palates.” He heard himself joke, nearly shocked at his own behavior.

“Sure…” You introduced yourself at last, finally able to have a name to your face. “Simon,” he only thought it fair to state his own. Although it sounded weird coming off his lips instead of the usual introductory Ghost.

“Well Simon, if you’re ever on Bakers Street, there’s a Korean Barbecue place that is delicious. Now that’s real food. I’ll just have to wait until tomorrow since I pulled this stunt. And thanks again!” You smiled, an awkward wave marking your goodbye.

Simon nodded and entered his dark flat, once again drawn into his own mind and the sound of warfare.

He made sure, a few days later to pay you back for your kind words and the disgusting tea. He knocked on your door, hurriedly rushing back to his own and out of sight, hoping the white takeout box of barbecue would make your evening.

He had a particularly rough morning on an autumn rainy day. The chill of the air and racket of raindrops on the window was enough to startle him awake. He was reminded of the cold chill of Russia, as well as the raindrops hitting way too similar to the sound of bullets. It nerved him, nearly taking him several minutes to be able to breathe properly again.

He’d done what his therapist had mentioned, pinpointing colors, sounds, and textures.

Yellowing wallpaper, humming ventilation, scratchy blanket.

Gray clouds, rattling ceiling fan, his own warm skin.

With a sigh, he curled his palm over his eyes, rubbing away the awful reoccurring night terrors, and settling for getting dressed. He wore the simple clothes he always did, black hoodie, jeans, and boots. Simple, yet effective.

He grew rather sick of the walls of his apartment. The plaster suffocated him, the air suddenly too stuffy. For a short moment he was stuck in that coffin again, maggots wriggling at his flesh and the scent of rotten meat flooding his nostrils.

He stood suddenly, attempting to calm himself. He was in Manchester, he was standing. Something he couldn’t do in a coffin. It was a shitty autumn day with rain battering his window sill. He wasn’t in the desert, he wasn’t half dead. He was here.

He let his body lead him out the door with no destination. All his mind happened to scream was out, out, out.

He’d barely been able to grab the door handle and twist, fingers shaking in such a pathetic way it had him wrinkling his nose. He was underwater, shoved into the bucket as they held him under, making him lose his breath and weakly fight.

No he was here. Manchester! In Manchester.

“Simon?”

He was suddenly lifted up, finally able to push the freezing water out of his lungs and suck down oxygen. His head swiveled weakly to you, eyes likely looking dead and cold.

You were dressed warm. A coffee-colored sweater swaddling your form and a burnt orange cardigan hanging from your shoulders as well. You wore typical jeans and slip-ons, but bright orange knitted socks peaked from your jeans. They were even littered with pumpkins and leaves designs.

He hummed in your acknowledgment, letting himself worry about his breathing once again. Colors, sounds, textures.

Orange Cardigan, your slow breathing, soft knitted socks.

“Are you okay?” You’d squeaked, barely audible over his massive heaving breathes. He instinctively nodded his head, knowing that if he showed any sign of weakness he’d be terminated. That’s how it’s been since he was four years old, being terrified of his father but not being able to express such fear.

“You know, it’s okay to not be okay.” You read right through him. Taking an inching step towards him. He said nothing, still shocked that you hadn’t left in a disgusted manner. He was weak and terrifyingly broken, and yet your sweet gaze never broke into pity.

Orange cardigan, quiet steps, smooth skin against his wrist.

He’d instantly felt relief from the lack of stinging pressure against his palm. Not realizing he’d been digging his nails into the calloused flesh, causing angry red crescents to print into his skin.

“Would you like a tea? I was about to go to the place across the street?”

His mind screeched no. He wanted so badly to be alone. To break something, to laugh as he bloodied his knuckles. He also wanted to shield his too pleasant neighbor from his violent tendencies. To keep her from him, to protect her. But his cold and dead heart managed to thaw and break all in one. The vile organ spoke for him as he found his head bobbing, lungs sucking in a big breath.

“M’kay.” He mumbled, following after your sweet lavender perfume down the lift like a sickly bloodhound.

He’d followed like a shell, hardly memorizing the turns and passing civilians until he was blasted with warm air from a cozy little cafe. He was slammed with comfort instantly, thrown back into the present world instead of the bloodied one he was used to seeing in his mind.

String lights hung above your head, illuminating your warm skin and kind smile. You’d ushered him to sit in the far corner, the leather booth squishy and comfortable. Simon had tuned into the fluttering orchestra of some jazz band, relaxing his bones and tired muscles only slightly.

Golden lights, swaying music, brewing coffee.

He startled when a thick paper cup slid in front of him, the fresh scent of breakfast tea relaxing him further, among with the smiling face blinking at him.

“Got your favorite, bland breakfast tea.” You quipped, taking a sip of your own lavender fruity tea. He let a soft grin cross his lips, pushing the invasive thoughts away while you were with him. “I told you it was an exquisite taste, you drink tea for a child.”

A bubbly laugh escaped you, making Simon freeze in pure awe. He’d never heard something so beautiful, a real authentic laugh. One that he caused.

“You should try it.” You eased, pushing your cup towards him with amusement. Simon’s eyes managed to squint in disgust, glancing down at the odd beverage.

His hand fit around the paper material, warmth meeting his fingers as he brought it carefully up to his scarred lips. The taste was sugary, but floral and rich at the same time. His tongue retreated away, and instantly he swallowed it like it was burning alcohol.

“I don’t like it.”

This tea perfectly matched your personality. Bubbly, overly sweet, and calming like the essence of lavender under his tongue. He’d rather have you than the tea.

“Well what do you like, oh mysterious neighbor?” You chuckled, taking back your tea with a happy grin. His dislike hadn’t irked you at all, instead you seemed more intrigued than before. As if he was enough to quirk your interest.

“Football.”

“Man United?”

He nodded.

“I’m a Liverpool fan.” You sighed, a guilty and mischievous grin passing over your lips.

“That’s more disgusting than that tea!” He growled out, a chuckle breaking through his chest at your lit up face.

“Yeah? What’s your favorite food or drink then? If you’re so quick to bash my tea!” You bickered back, happily noticing his shoulders relaxing and eyes softening.

“One of my Sergeants lives in Glasgow, he frequents at this pub with the best fry up you’d ever eat.”

“Breakfast in a pub?” You questioned, taking a sip of your tea again.

“Best hangover medicine.”

You’d scoffed, hiding your smile between your empty cup. Simon was surprised just how easy it was to talk to you. Here he was, just a man having a tea with a woman. Perhaps even a date? He didn’t have to worry about following orders or barking protocol to privates. Here he could be Simon, the man under the mask and war paint. It was… nice.

“So you’re in the military. That makes sense why I haven’t seen you over the last couple months.” You observed, but didn’t push. You were hanging the metaphorical bait, but he didn’t have to bite it if he didn’t want to.

He nodded, simple enough to confirm, but not enough to feel exposed.

“Well Simon, I have a train to catch. I’m going into Liverpool to see my Mum.” You explained, offering a polite smile.

“Sure.” He mumbled, watching you shuffle to leave the booth. “We should do this again sometime, it was nice to talk to someone besides my cat.” You urged, a laugh encasing your words.

His heart threatened to bounce out of his chest, but he pulled himself together with a subtle pinch to his thigh.

“Sounds nice.”

Dried blood coated his mask and stained his gloves to the point that he had to pull extremely hard to take them off. His shoulders slouched significantly and his eyes grew such large bags under them he could feel his skin sink into his skull. He was tired, exhausted, and needing a warm, long shower.

“Good te’ be back, yeah, L.t.?” Soap threw himself against a bench, groaning as he bent down to untie the laces of his boots. The Scot likely had the same idea as Simon, to shower all this blood off their bodies.

“Sure. Back to morning drills and bland Mess Hall food.” He added in monotone, eyes twinkling in amusement as Soap let out another dramatic groan.

“Oh don’t be like that.” He teased again, constantly pushing Simon out of his dramatic and lone atmosphere. It was nice in ways, how Soap managed to brighten up his day and keep him on his toes.

Speaking of toes, a frown worked its way onto his face as he caught the state of his freshly knitted socks. Dark mud and seeping blood rubbed uncomfortably against his toes, soaking the material of all its purity.

Soap followed his eye line, latching onto the pattern of white ghosts against black knitted material. A chortle escaped him, “Where the bloody hell did ye’ get those?”

“My Neighbor.” He answered shortly, taking note of the crimson color bleeding into the white ghosts.

“D’aw, little gran’ made ye’ some socks?” Soap teased, making the wrong assumption that you were some sweet elderly lady. Simon shook his head, peeling off the socks begrudgingly as he looked forward to his hot shower to warm his bones.

“She’s my age.”

His mind travelled to you. How you’d begged and begged for him to tell you his callsign, bringing up Top Gun of all things.

“Oh my gosh! You need to watch more movies. I can’t believe you don’t know who Tom Cruise is. Top Gun!” Your ecstatic voice carried as you sat in the now familiar booth the two of you shared.

It’s become a common occurrence for him to go out with you on Saturday mornings, sometimes you’d bring your laptop and study for an upcoming test in uni, other times you’d ask him any question under the sun, just to get to know him better. He was comforted by your mindless chatter, even more so when you’d avoid certain topics that made him uncomfortable.

You’d hardly pushed on his childhood or career, that was until you’d thought him traitorous that he’d never seen either of the Top Gun movies.

“Maverick and Goose? Never heard of them?”

“No.” Simon shrugged, sipping on his tea as your eyes sparkled again. “Do you have a callsign?”

His teeth grit at the question as his airway slightly closed. It was dangerous to identify himself off the clock, even more so in a public area. He studied your antsy form, noticing your hips hanging off the booth in curiosity, as well as the soft flesh of your lips pulled between your teeth. How could he ever say no to a creature so effortlessly beautiful?

“Ghost.”

A few days later, a knock on his door startled him from his routine of watching the local broadcasting. He’d approached the door, only to find a black pair of socks with little white ghosts knitted against the seams.

“Is she fit?” Soap found himself asking, a happy grin shining through. Simon was glad for his mask, for when he pictured your smooth skin, beautiful eyes, and stunning frame he could picture no flaws. Fit? That didn’t even begin to describe you.

“You have no idea, mate.”

He’d returned home Christmas Eve, tired and worn from all the flights and jet lagged beyond belief. His muscles were stiff and his heart was heavy. This was always his least favorite time of year.

Horror flashed before his very eyes, usually he’d get away with spending the holidays on base, catching up with his paperwork and training privates a little more to reduce his thoughts of his late family. Instead, Price all but forced him to go home, after a certain Scot let slip that his Lieutenant fancied his own neighbor.

He had nowhere to hide this time. He was home, and at the worst time of the year. Near instantly his nostrils filled with the smell of burnt Christmas ham, charred and ashes by the time he’d opened the front door. But that wasn’t the worst smell, not even close. Coppery tinges of blood clouded his nostrils as his eyes glazed over.

Hidden and reflected off the ornaments on the tree was his family. His poor sweet mother, who’d done so much and tried so hard to raise two boys with an abusive husband— she lay face first on the festive rugs. He’d rushed to her, only to nearly trip over his brother. Tommy’s hand was outstretched, blood trailing as he’d likely tried to crawl to his dead wife.

He couldn’t breathe, sheer panic and despair crawling on him like millions of slippery bugs. He’d vomited all the contents of his stomach as he caught the crib in the corner. Not his little nephew, not little Joseph.

Loud honking from below drew him out of his mind. He’d been standing idly in front of his door, duffel clutched so tightly in his hand he was sure he’d had punctured skin.

White snow, soft violin, warm coat.

Violin?

His feet had already carried him to your door, hand cautiously rapping against the thin wooden material. He knew it was late— hell, it was likely already midnight and Christmas Day. Yet he needed something, he needed to hear your voice and smell the lavender and floral ofyour perfume. He even wanted to see the orange fur of your pet tabby cat.

“Who is it?” Your soft voice carried through the door, successfully halting some of the tension in his shoulders.

“Simon.”

The door cracked open almost immediately, revealing you in red flannel pajamas and sleepy eyes. He’d never felt such a relief as he had just now. Seeing you, your warm smile peeking through all the tiredness.

“You just get back?” You asked, slippered feet already sliding to the kitchen to turn on the electric kettle.

“Yes.” He replied, bending low to pat the orange ball of fur dubbed Garfield. The cat mewed happily, even going as far as letting his belly be scratched. He’d missed your eyes curiously glancing at him from behind a cabinet, two mugs clinking as you pulled them out. He’d had the same cloudy eyes and sagged shoulders he always did when he was plagued by bad memories and PTSD.

“I was just about to put on a movie, if you want to sit on the sofa.” You’d suggested, seeping the leaves of his breakfast tea in a fluid motion. Your warm and inviting voice broke him away from thinking of his family, especially when the steaming scent of tea crept up his nose.

“What movie?”

“I was thinking Home Alone, or maybe even The Grinch. Tis’ the season and all that.” You bubbled, taking your own seat against him. He’d stiffened slightly at the mention of the holidays, but his thoughts quickly vanished at the subtle brush of warm skin against his side.

He wasn’t able to breathe properly as you laid your cheek upon his shoulder, right in the dip between his neck and clavicle. But no, it wasn’t the suffocating and violent loss of breath like before, when he thought of war and bloodshed. No, this was a dull ache of his heart, as if telling him that yes, this is where I want to be.

Red Flannel, shifting bodies, soft lips.

��How about we watch Top Gun?” He asked in a whisper, still feeling the absolute sweetness of your lips, the pleasure and love that was you.

You’d single-handedly dulled his pain, silenced the noise, and picked him up on the darkest of his days.

He loved you.

Tag list: @mykneeshurt

#simon ghost riley #cod #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you

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blackopals-world · 19 days

Text

Chef!Yuu gets abducted by RSA students

Yuu goes to a club exhibition at RSA with the boys. The RSA students immediately believe Yuu is a captive princess.

"It's a big day boys and it's going to be warm today. Make sure to drink up and eat the snack bags I gave you." Yuu said putting down the last of their cooking tools.

Yuu didn't have a club to participate in at the club meet but after the boys said they wouldn't go to the event with them Crowley relented.

Instead, Yuu would set up a small food stall to show off NRC's food. Yuu had made sure to pack lots of personal meals for those participating in the event so they wouldn't go hungry. Yuu had no idea what the quality of the food was here and if they knew the dietary limits of their students so it was better not to risk letting the boys get sick.

"Yeah, okay. I need to get going. The basketball teams are having a short game now." Ace said eager to start showing off.

"Okay, let me just grab your lunches. Curry, hummus, and veggies for Jamil. Fried catfish, seaweed salad, and fried potatoes for Floyd. And a BLT, steak fries and one of my special cherry jubilee tarts." Yuu handed of the wrapped boxes to each of them before they left.

"Thank you again Yuu." Jamil said remembering to thank them.

"Now it's the track team. Jack has a steak sandwich, deer jerky, and pear pudding. Deuce had omelet rice, pigs in a blanket, and my blue razzberry tarts." Yuu said watching Deuce immediately scoop up his box and sprint off while waving with a big smile.

"Well bring back a trophy," Jack said sternly, his tail wagging.

Yuu continued to hand out food and snacks until everyone was gone. They eventually noticed that Malleus's box was still there with no sign of Malleus. Did everyone forget to bring him again?! Oh no...Yuu would make sure to apologize with banquet. He might be in a more forgiving mood after.

Yuu didn't want it to go to waste, especially with Grim going to watch the sports clubs.

Yuu didn't want to not watch everyone show off. The problem was that Yuu wasn't supposed to leave the stall. This wasn't fair at all. Yuu didn't like being all alone.

Unknown to Yuu the decadent smell of their food was spreading around campus. From a few of their friends opening their lunch early like Ace grabbing his tart, Ruggie eating his chicken, and Cater taking pictures of his kimchi-jjiga. Then there were those who were showing off their meals like Vil with his tuna tartar, Rook with his venison, and even Sebek of all people with his smoked salmon. It managed to get the attention of many RSA students who began asking them where they got their food. All of the boxes were wrapped in the same patterned handkerchiefs with a cat head with a knife and fork.

As fate would have it Neige LeBlanche stumbled upon a pouting Yuu sitting next to a small stall with a box in their lap.

"Are you okay?" He asked watching the lil'chef poke out their bottom lip cutely.

"Mmn, yeah. I just made too much food again." Yuu said not looking up.

"You have extra then. I don't mind taking it off your hands. I accidentally forgot my lunch again." Neige had not forgotten his lunch. He had fed it to his animal friends again.

"Really?" Yuu looked up hopefully, glad it wouldn't go to waste but- "Are you sure? It's probably not suited to your taste. I usually make these to the taste of each person."

"Of course, I'm not picky. I'm sure it's delicious." He said smiling taking the box from Yuu and sitting down to unwrap it.

The box was filled with a collection of different foods to sample. Malleus enjoys trying as many foods as possible so his boxes are made so that he can learn every food he likes and dislikes. Malleus wasn't picky either since he loved every food Yuu made.

"Oh my, there is so much to try." Neige took a moment to take a picture of the food. "Why don't you eat with me?"

"Huh?" Yuu said doe eyed and confused.

Cater skilled through recent posts on magicam when a new post from Neige crossed his view.

"OMG!!" He yelled standing up.

Lilia and Kalim jumped before looking over his shoulder.

Plain as day was a collection a photos of Neige and Yuu where their. Not just any photos, cutesy ones with hearts and birds.

One with Yuu and Neige sitting so close together they were thigh to thigh with a lunch box perched on their laps. One with Neige feeding Yuu a fork full of cake. Yuu looked so cute too. Then Yuu was doing the same and they looked so nervous and shy. This can't be happening.

Carted groaned in defeat at the amount of perfect couple shots was infuriating.

".....this has to be-" Cater broke out in a cold sweat. "A new relationship announcement."

Kalim and Lilia were stunned into silence.

Vil was getting impatient. Neige was supposed to be here 10 minutes ago. They were supposed to do a photoshoot for the event.

Rook sent him a message with a link. The moment he saw Neige with Yuu he almost crushed his phone.

"That bastard." Vil was dumb. He had been blocking Neige and Yuu from meeting since the beginning. Neige was too curious about where Vil's food came from whenever they worked together. After all Vil never ate on set and hated the catering so his sudden shift to eating food prepared by who he called "his chef" was always going to get Neige's attention.

Ruggie was growling up a storm as he waited for the next round to start. He had grabbed Leona's phone as messages popped up. When he saw some random RSA student with HIS Yuu. Like hell was he going watch some pretty boy steal his meal ticket.

No one takes advantage of Yuu's gullible nature but him.

"Hey, shortstack give him some distance this round," Leona warned Epel. He knew that Ruggie could get vicious on the field when he was in a bad mood.

Epel took a few steps away from Ruggie. He had never actually seen the hyena growl let alone sneer like that.

"I should probably get back to the stall. The others will get upset if I wander off." Yuu said half-heartedly. They was mostly referring to Grim, Ace, and Deuce. They tended to panic if they can't find Yuu.

"Why?" Neige asked his head tilted to the side like a puppy.

"They just worry I'll run off." Yuu said.

Neige could put two and two together. Vil was protective of his chef and from the comments under his post sounded like they didn't want him near Yuu.

Perhaps they were keeping Yuu with them against their will. Maybe Vil didn't know but the other NRC students wouldn't let them go. Vil was probably trying to protect Yuu by making them his chef.

"You poor thing. Don't worry! I'll save you!" Neige said grabbing Yuu's hand and taking them away.

"Huh?"

Yuu was very sweet but awareness wasn't their strong suit. They assumed that this was some sort of act. Yuu did hear that RSA students pretended to be perfect princes, that's what the others said. Yuu wanted to play along, after all they would never get another chance to pretend to be a princess again.

"Oh, are you going to take me away?" Yuu humored him as they giggled.

Neige looked at Yuu like they had hung the moon, a gentle princess who wanted to be saved by HIM.

Immediately he rallied as many other students as he could to bring Yuu into the school. RSA would have their very own princess who cared for others so much and made delicious food for even those that kidnapped them.

Due to the ruckus that was being raised the club events were canceled.

Each group ran to the now empty stall where Grim was crying into an apron that Yuu left behind.

"What happened?" Trey asked searching for Yuu.

"They have been taken captive by Neige and his friends," Grim yelled.

With that the group went up against a gauntlet of students traveling up the headmaster's tower before they successfully enrolled Yuu into the Royale Sword Academy.

Of for the moment they got to the top.

"It's dinner time. I'm glad you made it in time. You must have had alot of fun today." Yuu said cheerfully.

Yuu had commandeered the headmaster's kitchen and as always was sticking to their cooking schedule.

Everyone ended up having to settle down and enjoy a meal. Although there was still plenty of bickering and attempts to keep the fawning RSA students away from their princess.

Even after everyone returned to NRC Yuu would receive visits from dashing young princes wanting to take them away. This has resulted in traps laid across Ramshackle to keep them out. Not to mention a particularly miffed dragon that had his meal stolen.

#chef!yuu #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #yuuniverse #neige leblanche #twst neige #twst rsa #royal sword academy

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

Summary: After moving to Hawkins to take care of your ailing grandma, you end up spending a wild night with Corroded Coffin's lead singer, Eddie Munson. When you uncover his true intentions, you have no desire to ever see him again, but fate--and his son, Harris--has other plans.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), fingering (f! receiving), oral (m!receiving), slowburn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, Eddie is 30, Reader is 28, no use of y/n

WC: 7.5k

Chapter 1/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

Late August, 1996.

July had come and gone so quickly, and you could sense it in the muggy air as the daylight dwindled away on the horizon of an orange colored sky. Your heels click along the parking lot pavement as you make your way into the dingy bar. Everyone told you that your twenties would be full of surprises, but no one warned you that those twists and turns would land you in Hawkins, Indiana.

The neon sign reads The Hideout; well, really, it reads Th H deo t, and the “o” is starting to flicker. You’re not the only one who notices the building’s crumbling exterior.

“Huh,” Jess says, crossing her arms over her chest. “This place seemed a lot cooler when I was in high school.” Still, she pushes open the door, where you’re immediately hit with the stench of cigarettes and beer. The floor is sticky with what you can only hope is spilled liquor, and you take a seat on a rickety barstool.

“How did you even hear about this place?” you ask your new friend, tugging your dress so it covers a bit more of your thighs. You had one night out to yourself, and Jess was insistent on you making the most of it.

“Used to come here all the time when I was, like, sixteen?” She wrinkles her nose. “They’re dirt cheap and they never card, so my friends and I used to get super wasted. Thought we were hot shit.” She flags down the bartender with a wave and a smile. “Anyway, you can’t live in Hawkins and not come to the Hideout at least once. It’s a tradition.”

The bartender, a woman who looks to be in her mid-forties, leans on the counter. “What can I get you ladies?” she asks. Her voice is raspy from what sounds like decades of chain smoking.

You’re about to order a Bud Light, but Jess cuts you off. “We’ll each have a Hideout Special,” she says confidently. “Make hers a double.”

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to kill me? And what the hell is a Hideout Special?”

She waves off your concern. “Honestly, I have no idea. But it’ll get you buzzed fast.”

You reluctantly agree, sipping on something that tastes vaguely like a mixture of rum and vodka, with the pungency of rubbing alcohol. “That’s awful,” you grimace, and Jess just laughs.

“Yeah, they’re pretty rough going down. But you only have one night to yourself, and you’re gonna make the most of it.” She links her arm through yours, using her free hand to tilt the drink back up to your lips. “Now, drink up. The band’s gonna start playing soon, and you’ll need all the liquor you can get. Trust me.”

Corroded Coffin, the band in question, is warming up in the back room. Tuesday nights has been their slot since high school, and if their lead singer and guitarist has his way, it’ll be their slot until they’re too old to play. He’s tuning his ax, tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration, only looking up when he hears a faint “oh, shit,” come from his bandmate.

“Y’good?” Eddie asks, strumming gently to play a perfect A-chord.

“Yeah,” Jeff says, holding up a small black box. “Forgot I had this in my pocket; almost dropped it when I took off my jacket.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “That’s what you get for wearing leather in fuckin’ August, dude.” He squints at the object in Jeff’s hand. “What is that, anyway?”

“A ring,” Jeff proudly announces. “I’m gonna ask Viv to marry me.” The big, goofy grin on his face makes Eddie’s stomach churn. He looks at Gareth and Danny, expecting similar disgusted reactions from them, but they’re both smiling, too.

“Way to go, man!” Danny says, and Gareth claps Jeff on the back. “Our little Jeff is growing up.”

“Oh, fuck off, man,” Jeff says, but he’s laughing as he accepts the congratulations. He glances expectantly at Eddie, waiting for him to chime in.

“You two’ve been together for a million years,” Gareth jokes, twirling a drumstick in his free hand. “What made you decide to take the plunge?”

Jeff’s eyes dart around the room. “Okay, I wasn’t supposed to say anything,” he starts, voice hushed, “but Viv’s pregnant!”

“Holy shit!” Danny sputters. “Dude, you’re gonna be a dad!”

“Yeah,” Jeff agrees incredulously. “Fuckin’ wild, isn’t it?” His gaze falls to Eddie. “Does the seasoned professional have any words of wisdom?”

An uncharacteristic silence fills the room. Eddie can feel their eyes burning a hole into his head. He knows what he should say, what Jeff wants to hear, but he can’t bring himself to feign happiness. “You don’t have to marry someone just because you knocked her up.” It comes out with a snarl, meaner than he’d intended.

“Crazy thought, but have you considered that I actually want to marry her?” Jeff shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’re not all content being miserable hermits like you are.”

“Whoa, break it up,” Gareth tries, stepping between the two guitarists, but the conversation’s already too heated.

“I’m not miserable, and I’m not a hermit,” Eddie counters. “I’m just not about to limit myself when there’s plenty of pussy in the sea.”

Jeff rolls his eyes. “Whatever, dude. Thanks for the well wishes.” Eddie can’t help but notice the flash of hurt in his eyes as he walks away. A small part of him feels bad, but he can’t shake the anxiety that unexpected change seems to bring.

“So, what does this mean for Corroded Coffin?” he asks. “Should we consider this our farewell show?” He tries to ignore the irritated glares he’s getting from Gareth and Danny. It’s like the words fall from his mouth before his brain can process the damage they can do.

“Obviously, once the baby comes, I’ll have to take a step back,” Jeff shrugs. “And I’m gonna try to work some overtime before it’s born. Save some extra money, y’know.”

The room had been zapped of joy, and Eddie feeds off of the sullen atmosphere. “Nice commitment to the band,” he sneers. “Glad to see how easily your priorities change.”

“Yeah, man, you should try it sometime,” Jeff snaps. His fists clench, and he looks angry enough to throw a punch. “Maybe you’ll stop acting like an overgrown teenager.”

Eddie’s about to fight back, jaw locked in place and eyes seeing red, but he’s temporarily grounded by the sound of the manager’s tired voice echoing from the ancient sound system.

“Put your hands together for Corroded Coffin!” A smattering of applause signals their cue to enter. Eddie tries to shake off the conflict; it can be resolved after they play. The show must go on, or whatever it was that his high school drama teacher always said.

A balding man with a gruff voice introduces the band as Corroded Coffin. Jess’s eyes go wide; she’s already a few Hideout Specials deep and definitely feeling it.

“Oh, shit!” she laughs with a hiccup. “That’s my sister’s boyfriend’s band!” She motions to the bartender to pour her another drink, but you shake your head and just mouth water. The bartender gives you a knowing nod, probably grateful that she won’t have to be the one dealing with Jess tonight.

“Yeah, that’s Jeff!” Jess continues, pointing at a tall guitarist with tight curls. “He’s the one who knocked up Viv!” She cackles like she just made the most hilarious joke. “I totally forgot they were playing tonight.” She frantically waves at him, and he gives a small head nod in acknowledgment.

Your eyes are drawn to someone else: the lanky, ring-clad man who takes center stage. He grips the mic with black polished nails, smirking out into the crowd as he yells, “Hawkins, how’re we doin’ tonight?” The loudest cheers come from Jess, and you join in, letting out an obnoxious “woooooo!” in response.

The noise draws his attention, and you watch as his smirk shifts to something needier, hungrier, even. His big brown eyes land on you and Jess, leaving you momentarily breathless. He’s absolutely gorgeous, light stubble on his cheeks and above his plush lips. He’s wearing a white V-neck that shows off a dusting of chest hair. His torn black jeans hang low on his hips, accentuated with a studded belt. A gleaming pair of silver handcuffs are clipped to one of the loops.

“All right!” he calls back. “Well, this first one goes out to the pretty girl in the blue dress at the bar. Wait for me after the show, Sweetheart.” He counts out to four, and they launch into a cover of Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me.

It doesn’t even register until Jess nudges you, more forcefully than necessary, and says, “Hey, you’re wearing a blue dress!”

Oh.

“Who…who is he?” you ask, feeling a warmth spread through your core that you’re sure isn’t from the alcohol.

“That,” Jess says, leaning on you for balance, “is Eddie Munson. Total freak back in high school, but now he’s just got a reputation for being a freak in the sheets.” She throws you a clumsy wink and adds, “looks like you’ll get to find out for yourself tonight.”

“I’m not really a one-night stand kind of person,” you counter, internally cringing at the memories of your feeble attempts at hooking up, all of which inevitably ended with you pining after them pathetically.

Jess rolls her eyes. “Come on,” she whines, taking note of the way you and Eddie can’t seem to tear your gazes from each other. “Your dad leaves tomorrow, and then you’ll be spending your nights taking care of your grandma. You gotta live a little!”

Plopping back down onto the barstool, you consider her sentiment. It’s true; once your dad goes back home, you’ll be the one helping out in the evenings. And the new school year starts next week, leaving you with little time for yourself.

Your whole life has been spent helping others. You became a teacher to shape young minds and provide them with a safe place to learn and express themselves. You moved to a tiny town in the middle of Indiana to look after your grandma. Even now, you’re babysitting Jess and ensuring she doesn’t dehydrate instead of letting loose and ordering another drink.

“Fine, but only if he brings it up,” you concede. “I’m not gonna be the one to make the first move.”

The band moves on to their next song; it’s either an original or one you’re not familiar with, but you find yourself dancing to the beat. Jess joins you, writhing her body in some kind of drunken jig that has you cackling. You’re having such a great time that you don’t even notice Eddie tripping over a few chords as he watches you sway your hips back and forth.

Corroded Coffin plays for another forty minutes. You recognize some Metallica and Black Sabbath songs, headbanging along until you’re dizzy. The bartender slides you another drink—on the house, she insists—and you sip it eagerly, trying to quell your nerves. Eddie shouts out, “thank you, Hawkins!” and disappears backstage with the rest of the band.

You can’t ignore the dejected pain in your heart, but you muster up a smile and turn to Jess. “Ready to get out of here?”

She shakes her head, putting her palm on the bar to steady herself. “You still have to wait for Eddie,” she teases. “You promised.”

You cock your eyebrow in amusement. “First of all, Drunky McWasted, I didn’t promise anything,” you say, “and second, show’s over and, uh, he’s not here.” You swivel around for emphasis.

“Give him a fucking second, would ya?” The comment doesn’t come from your friend, and you turn around to see Eddie standing behind you. He’s got a towel around the back of his neck, mopping up the sweat from his performance. His hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, and you can see the remnants of kohl eyeliner smudged around his lash line. “Had to clean myself up a little bit, damn.” He smiles, and you feel like you’re going to melt.

Jess interrupts, pushing you closer to him. “Eddie, this is my neighbor.” When you still don’t say anything, too awestruck to introduce yourself, she tells him your name.

Eddie nods, letting his fingers graze yours. “What’d you think of the set?” He grins at the bartender, who gives a small head bob and hands him a whiskey, neat.

“It was good,” you manage, finally finding your voice. “I especially liked the song you dedicated to the pretty girl in the blue dress.” There. You flirted. The rest is up to him.

“Yeah?” He rests his forearm on the bar and leans over to take his glass. “Was kinda hopin’ you would. Soon as I saw you, I knew I had to shoot my shot.” His eyes flit over the low-cut neckline of your dress before he drags his gaze back to your eyes. “You new to Hawkins?”

“Mhm,” you say, watching as he fumbles with a pack of Newports. “I moved here to take care of my grandma.” Good going. Nothing turns a guy on like talking about your elderly relatives.

But Eddie’s unfazed. “Hot and nice? A lethal combo, if I do say so myself.”

“What about you?” you blurt out. “I mean, have you always lived in Hawkins?”

He shrugs. “Been back and forth. Came here when I was nine, left when I was twenty-two, then came back about four years ago.”

“What brought you back? Missed all the excitement?” You laugh and he gives a small smile, but an emotion you can’t pinpoint crosses over his face.

“Somethin’ like that,” Eddie mutters, popping a cigarette between his lips. “Wanna go outside an’ have a smoke with me?”

“I’d love to,” you say with an apologetic tone, “but I really don’t wanna leave her alone.” You motion to your friend, who is currently trying to convince the bartender to let her have another drink. But as soon as she hears you using her as an excuse, she waves you off.

“Go,” she insists. “I’ll be fine. ‘M gonna have Jeff take me back home.” She stands on her tiptoes, nearly falling over, flailing both her arms wildly when she spots Jeff in the crowd and shouting, “Jeffy! Jeffy, can you drive me home so these two can have sex?”

You feel your face heat up at her words as Eddie shakes his head incredulously, lips twisting into a cocky grin. The last thing Jeff wants to do after Eddie’s earlier tantrum is help him get laid, but he knows there will be hell to pay if he doesn’t watch after his inebriated sister-in-law-to-be.

“Yeah, sure,” he grumbles, carefully looping his arm around her waist and helps her to his car. He appears to deliberately avoid making eye contact with Eddie, though you don’t know why. The two of them seemed to be getting along just fine on stage. The rest of the band leaves with them, carrying various instruments. No one even acknowledges Eddie’s presence.

“Uh, everything okay?” You can’t not pretend you didn’t notice; the tension is far too obvious.

Eddie brushes it off with another shrug. “Guys all got sticks up their asses, I dunno.” He pulls a black Bic lighter from his back pocket and motions towards the door, signaling your cue to walk out with him and drop the conversation.

Chirping crickets and a rowdy group of drunks shouting obscenities at each other punctuates the otherwise quiet atmosphere. Eddie looks at you expectantly, holding out his lighter, and you realize that he’s waiting for you to take out your own pack of cigarettes. A pack of cigarettes that you do not have.

“Oh, I, um, I don’t smoke,” you stammer, biting your tongue in irritation towards your own awkwardness. “I mean, I’ll smoke, like, socially, but I don’t carry cigarettes on me. Sorry.”

“Wanna bum one?” You pluck one from the pack and lean in as he lights it for you. The crisp inhale of tobacco lingers in your lungs for a moment before you breathe out, grateful that you didn’t cough like a middle schooler stealing cigs from her mom’s stash. You take another drag, watching as he does the same. You’d thought that there would be some level of conversation, but Eddie seems perfectly content smoking in silence.

“So,” you finally say, “how long have you been playing guitar?”

He chuckles and pushes his hand through his hair, stopping where it’s gathered into a hair tie. The perspiration on his forehead is starting to dry, but his bangs still stick to it. “Shit, gotta be twenty years now. Damn, I’m fuckin’ old.”

“How old are you?” It comes out more accusing than inquisitive, and you sharply inhale more nicotine to shut yourself up.

“Turned thirty last month.”

“Oh, that’s not old,” you reassure him. “I’m twenty-eight, so…not far behind.”

He doesn’t say anything in response to this. Maybe you’d misread his intentions. Or maybe he’d lost interest after just a few moments alone with you. The pretty girl in the blue dress quickly becomes the lame girl in the blue dress, and you both return home unsatisfied.

You try again, this time saying something that warrants a response. “I just moved here last week, if you have any recommendations of places to go. Restaurants or something?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, ‘s pretty boring around here.”

End of conversation.

“Well, I should probably get home,” you say, shifting your weight onto your other foot and stubbing out your cigarette in the nearby ashtray. There’s no sense in wasting anymore time, and the nighttime chill is biting at your bare legs.

“Wait, what?” Eddie practically does a double-take. “I thought…didn’t Viv’s sister say something about…”

Or maybe you’d read the situation correctly after all.

“You still want to?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” He ashes his own cigarette, and the smirk returns to his face. “Your place or mine?”

Considering the fact that your place is currently housing an eighty-year-old woman with declining cognition, and your father, you quickly jump at the offer to go to his home.

You walk with him to his car, a beat-up blue sedan. He opens the passenger door, and you thank him with a tight smile, still not sure what to expect. Maybe he’s just not into small talk, but he seems awfully closed off for a man who’s trying to get laid.

A tangle of tree-shaped air fresheners hang from the rearview mirror; they sway slightly as the two of you plop in your seats. Instinctively, you look behind you as he turns the key in the ignition. Nestled into the far left side of the backseat is a carseat. Cheerio crumbs are wedged in the crevices, and an empty sippy cup leans up against it.

“Is that a carseat?” It’s a dumb question; of course it’s a carseat, but you can’t bring yourself to be more blunt and ask if he has a kid. I mean, the guy couldn’t even tell you a single restaurant to go to.

“Oh. Yeah.” Eddie reaches around, placing a ringed hand on the back of your headrest as he backs out of the spot. He doesn’t elaborate on the matter, just speeds out of the parking lot, so you don’t push it.

The words, I love kids; I’m actually a preschool teacher, linger on your lips, but you bite them back. This is supposed to be casual, a one-night stand; you’re not trying to be anyone’s stepmother.

Eddie flicks on the radio to a metal station–of course–and you sit back and try to enjoy the ride. You can faintly hear him humming along to the music. The fingers on his left hand drum on the steering wheel, while his right hand finds its way to your upper thigh. Fuck, it feels good. He gently squeezes, and the sensation of his cold metal rings combined with his hungry touch makes you involuntarily press your legs together.

“Just wait, Sweetheart,” he laughs. “There’s more where that came from.” It’s probably the most he’s said to you all night, and you consider it a small win. You lean in and gently nip at his earlobe, grinning as he shivers at the contact.

“There’s more where that came from,” you echo, shifting back in your seat. Eddie looks at you, brows raised and forehead creased in amusement, but–big surprise–says nothing. He pulls into an apartment complex parking lot, swinging into the nearest available spot, and kills the engine. Without the music or the steady hum of the ignition, you’re suddenly plunged into complete silence. Are you really doing this? Going to a stranger’s apartment to have sex with him? What if he’s some sort of serial killer? But Jess knows him–sort of–and vouched for him, so he can’t be all bad, right? Although, Ted Bundy had friends, too…

Eddie clearing his throat disrupts your inner monologue, and you glance up at him shyly. “Sorry,” you mutter, though you’re not quite sure what you’re apologizing for.

“No biggie,” he says, like he’s used to women just spacing out in his car before they fuck him. “Um, y’ready to go inside?”

You nod, opening your door and carefully stepping out onto the uneven pavement. You wobble a little in your high heels, but you feel a hand on your lower back, steadying you. “Lemme help you,” he mumbles, lacing his fingers through yours and guiding you to the front door of the building.

The two of you only make it to the stairwell between the first and second floors before he’s pouncing on you, your back against the cold concrete walls. His hands start on your waist, traveling upwards and lightly grazing your breasts before he’s cupping your face. His kisses are hungry, but not sloppy; when his tongue breaches your lips, you let him in without a second thought. He places his knee between your legs, just barely nudging it against your lace thong. “Fuck,” he hisses, pulling away from you and running his tongue over his teeth, “I need you, pretty girl.”

You pout, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. “Can’t get naked until we’re in your apartment.” You pause before whispering in his ear, “and if you thought this dress looked good on me, wait till you see it on your floor.”

Eddie’s eyes widen. “‘S just another flight of stairs after this, yeah?” He doesn’t wait for a response, just takes your hand again and leads you to apartment 3C. There are a few Hot Wheels cars scattered on the ground, but he kicks them under the couch without further explanation. He sits down, adjusts his body on the soft beige cushion, and pats his lap. “Your throne,” he says cheekily, exposing tiny dimples on either side of his lips.

Wordlessly, you climb on top of him. Your dress bunches up as you straddle his waist, though that won’t be a problem much longer. You greedily grind your clothed pussy over the rough denim of his fly, sucking on his neck as his strong hands clasp the back of your thighs and pull you closer.

“Needy thing, hmm?” Eddie smirks, chuckling when you feign offense. “Where’re you going? ‘M just teasing you.” He sits up a bit, tugging one dress strap down and kissing the flesh between your neck and shoulder. “Maybe I read it wrong, but…y’look like a girl who likes to be teased,” he says, voice muffled by your skin.

“N-No, I do. Like it,” you stammer, fumbling with the frayed hem of his shirt and lifting it over his head. You run your hands over the expanse of pale skin, admiring his tattoos. There’s one of a red guitar pick right above his left pec; without thinking, you kiss it gingerly. He lets out a quiet moan, unzipping your dress and helping you shimmy out of it. You’re not wearing a bra, and he nearly chokes on his own tongue when he sees you on display for him.

“Christ, baby,” he groans, “got the most perfect fuckin’ tits I’ve ever seen.” He kisses them and runs his thumbs over your pert nipples before briefly sucking on them. The nickname baby isn’t lost on you, but you try not to read into it.

Still, there’s a sense of satisfaction at the way he’s crumbling literally beneath you, though you can’t help but snarkily say, “bet you say that to all the girls you bring back here.”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs, sending vibrations through your core. “Only the ones with perfect tits.”

You hate yourself for wondering how many perfect-breasted women there have been.

“Bedroom?” It’s all you can manage, already breathless from dry humping like a goddamn teenager on prom night.

Eddie hesitates before shaking his head, a curl falling loose from the hair tie. “Let’s just, uh, stay out here. Room’s kinda a mess.” The unsure expression on his face hints at another reason, but he quickly distracts you by pushing your panties to the side, slipping his middle finger into your aching cunt. “Holy shit. S’fucking wet already. I knew you were needy.”

“Y-Yes. Need you. Need more.” You’re already stretched out by one finger, but you’re dying to know how a second one feels. The more of him inside you, the better. He obliges, fucking you with his pointer and middle fingers while his thumb makes tiny, hurried circles against your clit. “That’s it, right…right there. Don’t stop; please don’t stop!” He brings you to your orgasm, smirking as you finish all over his fingers.

Your rocking slows, and you reluctantly pull yourself off of him and sink to your knees. He’s unbuckling his belt as fast as he can, and you can’t help but notice the wet spot on his jeans right where you were grinding on his thigh.

Eddie’s pants and plaid boxers are around his ankles in a heartbeat. His hard cock rests against his stomach; a pearly bead of pre-cum leaks from the tip. “Let’s see what that cute little mouth can do, Sweetheart,” he muses, leaning back into the couch with his hands behind his head.

You bite your lower lip. “First I gotta clean you off, yeah?” you ask before licking the tip, tasting him. His length twitches at that minimal contact, which makes you giggle. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.” There’s no protesting, so you grasp the base of his shaft with one hand and cup his balls with the other. You suck on the head, circling it with your tongue, before taking as much of the rest of his cock as you can fit into your mouth.

“Mmm, baby, yes,” he growls, inhaling sharply when you gently tug on his balls. “Thas’ a good girl. Play with my fuckin’ balls, just like that.” He bucks up his hips, bringing his cock even further down your throat. “Gag on it, baby. Gag on my big fuckin’ cock.”

He’s not wrong; at least, it’s the biggest of any guy you’ve ever been with. Hollowing out your cheeks, you increase your pace, letting your nose brush against his patch of dark curls. Saliva drips down your chin; you swipe at it clumsily and keep your focus on him.

“Shitshitshitshitshit–FUCK!” Before you can even process what’s happening, Eddie pulls out of you. Thick, hot ropes of cum trickle down his right hand, and he buries his face in his left. You reach for a tissue and hand it to him, and he angrily wipes off his spend.

“Gimme fifteen minutes, and I’ll be good to go,” he says, tossing the used tissue in a nearby wastebasket. He finds the remote tucked behind a couch cushion and clicks on the TV. An episode of Seinfeld comes on. “You’ll do,” he mutters, plopping down next to you and poorly stifling a yawn.

“Sleepy?” you tease, wrapping your naked chest in an itchy wool blanket and curling up. He doesn’t put his arm around you, or make any attempt to cuddle, so neither do you.

“Nah, ‘m fine.” But nearly five minutes later, while Jerry and Elaine argue about God-knows-what, you can hear Eddie softly snoring next to you.

“Eddie,” you whisper. No response, so you try a little louder. “Eddie!”

“Huh? What?”

“I can, uh, I can go now. I’ll call a cab. Just need your address.” You start to get up and head for the phone hanging on the wall, but he puts an arm out to stop you.

“‘S’okay. Stay for a bit, baby.”

Stay for a bit, baby.

It almost feels like you’re taking advantage of him; his curt conversations and closed-off demeanor earlier in the night indicated that he was not looking for someone to sleep over. But now he’s asking you to stick around, resting his head on your shoulder and letting one tattooed arm drape over your waist. You let him stay there, trying your best not to wake him, but you’re forced to reach over him to grab the remote when an infomercial starts blaring.

“C’mere,” he mumbles, half-asleep as he lays down and scoots himself as far back as he can. You follow his lead, pressing your back against his bare chest. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you find yourself drifting off while wrapped in the warm embrace of this handsome stranger.

RRRRIIIINNGGG! RRRRIIIINNGGG!

You’re startled awake by a loud, unfamiliar noise that doesn’t sound like your alarm clock.

RRRRIIIINNGGG! RRRRIIIINNGGG!

Eddie jolts up, almost knocking you off the couch. “Shit, didn’t think you were still…” He turns towards the ringing sound, still confused. “What time is it?!” His eyes widen as he gets a look at the clock, which reads 7:19. “Shit, shit, shit! Son of a bitch!”

He practically flies off of the couch, sprinting to the phone and bringing the receiver to his ear. “Wayne? Yeah, I’m sorry…overslept. I can be there in ten…no, you don’t have to do that, I’ll just…okay, okay, fine. See you soon.” He hangs up with a clank, turning back to you.

You’re just sitting on the sofa, still wearing nothing but your underwear and the blanket. “Everything…um, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, but he lets out an overwhelmed sigh. “Let me help you find your dress.” He doesn’t say it aloud, but the real meaning behind his words seeps through: you should leave.

You nod, feeling the all-too recognizable lump in your throat. It happens any time these shared intimate moments come to an end; the realization of just how temporary you are in someone’s life is a punch to the stomach.

You find the bunched blue garment behind the couch and slide it over your head. The fabric feels stale and cold against your skin, like it doesn’t belong to you. Eddie’s only wearing his boxers, and you catch yourself staring at the collection of tattoos that trail down his arms and torso.

“Like what you see?” He laughs when you duck your head, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks as he walks towards you. “C’mon, don’t be shy. Not after that little show you put on for me last night.” He leans down, tilting your chin up to him and kissing you softly. “Before you go, leave your number, yeah?”

That makes you roll your eyes. “Oh, please,” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What?”

“Don’t ask for my number if you’re not gonna call,” you say. You sling your bag over your shoulder as you walk to the door. “We don’t have to do the whole song-and-dance. We can just, y’know, leave this as a one-night stand.”

Eddie chuckles incredulously. “You wound me, Sweetheart,” he says. “‘Course I’m gonna call you. How could I not wanna see a girl as beautiful as you again? ‘Sides,” he adds slyly, “We didn’t even get to the best part.”

Begrudgingly, you write your number on a nearby notepad. The phrase don’t get my hopes up for nothing sits on the tip of your tongue, but you bite it back.

You’re halfway down the stairwell when you remember that you never called a cab. There’s no way in hell that you’re going to clamber back up to the third floor and ask Eddie to use his phone–and get his address–so you continue down to the lobby payphone and dial Jess’s number.

“H-Hello?” a man’s sleepy voice picks up on the third ring.

“Uh, Jess?” It’s clearly not your neighbor, but you have no idea what else to ask. Did she find some skeezy guy to bring home from the Hideout last night?

“Nah, it’s Jeff. Who’s this?” When you say your name, he hums in acknowledgment. “Oh, yeah. From the bar, right?”

“Yeah…is Jess there?”

He yawns into the receiver. “Last I checked, she was asleep. Finally. She spent half of last night puking her guts up. Everything okay?”

“Mhm. I was just wondering if she could pick me up from…um, from Eddie’s.” You cringe at your admission; the last thing you want is for Eddie’s bandmates to think that you’re some kind of pathetic groupie.

But Jeff seems unfazed. “I’ll be right there.” Before you can protest, he hangs up.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the glass-door reflection. Your hair is a mess, and there’s smudged makeup around your eyes and lips, like a billboard for the walk of shame.

Jeff pulls up a few minutes later, and you bashfully climb into the passenger seat. “Thanks,” you mumble, trying not to let your humiliation show through.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs as he pulls onto the main road, “it’s a special occasion.” When you pinch your eyebrows together in confusion, he laughs. “Ed never lets a girl stay over. Not sure what you did–don’t wanna know, to be honest–but you must’ve made quite the impression.”

“Didn’t mean to,” you say quietly. “We both fell asleep after…yeah. We only woke up when we did because some guy named Wayne called.”

Jeff nods knowingly. “That’s his uncle. He watches his son on Tuesdays when we have our gigs.”

His…son?

Jeff must notice the stunned expression on your face, and his cheeks flush pink. “Shit, he didn’t tell you about Harris?”

“We didn’t do much talking,” you reply wryly. “I’ll have to ask him about that when he calls.”

“Christ,” Jeff shakes his head. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he’s not gonna call. Never does. Calls it the ‘Cat-and-Mouse.’”

“The what?” Your throat goes bone-dry. You should’ve trusted your intuition, denied giving him your number, left it as a one-time thing.

“He brings a girl back to his place, has sex with her and asks for her number, but doesn’t call. When she shows up to the bar the next week, all insecure and wondering if he’s still interested, he acts like he’s been so busy, apologizes profusely, and strings her along until she catches on. Then it’s onto the next one.”

You feel like your heart’s been ripped out of your chest. Bile burns at the back of your esophagus, and you have to blink back tears. How could you be so stupid, so naive? Didn’t you know by now that guys like Eddie Munson are only after one thing?

The two of you sit in silence until he pulls up to your building. “Thanks,” you say finally, “for the ride and for the warning.” Jeff just nods, watching to make sure you get inside before driving off. As soon as he’s safely down the road, you burst into tears. Angry at Eddie, but mostly angry at yourself.

Eddie watches from his window as you get into a car–Jeff’s car–and leave. Great, he thinks, I’m sure I’ll get my ass handed to me at our next practice for fucking around with his sister-in-law’s friend. If we even still have a band, anyway.

Throwing on a pair of dark gray sweatpants and an undershirt, he makes his way downstairs just as Wayne and Harris arrive. His son is leaping out of his carseat to get to him.

“Daddy!” Harris flashes a gigantic smile. His dark brown curls are a tangled mess atop his head. Eddie unbuckles him and wraps him in a giant hug. He’s losing the chubbiness of his baby fat, but he’s still sweet and cuddly.

“Har-Bear!” Eddie laughs. “Did you say goodbye to Grampa Wayne?” Harris encircles Eddie’s waist with his legs, reaching out his arms to give Wayne a hug through the window.

“Sorry again,” Eddie says sheepishly. “Fell asleep and forgot to set the alarm.”

“Got a job yet? A real one?” Wayne asks stoically, ignoring his nephew’s apology.

A storm cloud washes over Eddie’s face. “I’ve told you a million times: nothing’s going to pay the bills as well as working for Rick.”

Wayne rolls his eyes. “Get a job,” he says pointedly, pressing a kiss to Harris’s cheek before lowering his voice and growling at Eddie, “and wipe the damn lipstick off your neck, for Chrissake.”

Jeff’s right: Eddie never calls. The home health aid that takes care of your grandma during the day informs you at the end of each shift that week that no one named Eddie called for you. And while you can’t say you’re shocked, it doesn’t do much to quell the hurt.

You spend as much time as you can preparing your classroom for the new school year. By the time you’re finished, the room is decorated to look like a jungle. Stuffed animals of lions, monkeys, and different birds line the shelf tops, which are packed with various books and art supplies. Your walls are decorated with different posters, all of which encourage kids to be their best.

The hustle and bustle of the first day of school helps keep your mind off of your personal life. With a thermos full of hot coffee, you happily introduce yourself to your teaching assistant, Will. He’s a sweet guy, a few years younger than you, and he’s practically bursting with games to teach the kids.

“Before I forget,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper, “I picked up our roster from the office on my way in. Looks like we have ten kids this year.”

“You’re the best,” you tell him gratefully, and he starts putting tiny chairs around tiny tables.

Being new to town, you don’t expect to recognize any of the names on the list. There’s an Abigail Carver, a Joshua Harrington…

And a Harris Munson.

“No fucking way,” you muse, apparently a bit louder than you’d intended, because Will’s head snaps up and he swivels in your direction. “Sorry.”

The sounds of bubbly giggles and excited chatter filing into the hallway grab your attention. One by one, parents start dropping off their kids, kissing them goodbye. There are tears–some from students, some from parents–and you’re quick to reassure everyone that school will be so much fun.

You’re just grabbing the sign-in sheet for Mr. Carver to fill out when you feel a small thump against your legs. When you look down, you see a curly-haired boy staring up at you with wide, brown eyes.

“This is my classroom!” he says matter-of-factly, pointing to the number 3 on the door. “My name’s Harris. Like the guy from Iron Maiden!” He jumps up and down as he speaks. “Are you my teacher?”

“I am.” You smile and introduce yourself, peering towards the door. “Harris? Did a grown-up drop you off?” And please tell me his name is Wayne, you silently plead.

“Oh, yeah! My dad has my backpack!” He starts running back to the hallway, only to crash right into Eddie.

“Little dude, you can’t be running off like—” Eddie stops mid-sentence when his eyes land on you. “Oh, shit.”

You set your jaw, willing yourself to stay strong. He’s on your turf now.

“Mr. Munson, you need to watch your language,” you warn crossly.

“Yeah, sorry,” he mutters, handing Harris’s backpack to him. “I packed him a snack, um, and a juice box.”

“Okay,” you nod, crouching down to Harris’s eye level and injecting enthusiasm into your voice. “Can you find your cubby? It’s the one with your name on it!”

The little boy bounds over to his assigned spot, hanging his bag on the hook before running over to play with blocks.

Forced to interact with Eddie, you press up on your knees and say, “Pick-up is at two.”

“Can I say goodbye to my kid before you kick me out? Jeez,” he grunts, calling out to Harris with his arms wide open. Harris hugs him, half-heartedly promising to be on his best behavior before starting to race back to the toys.

“We walk in the classroom,” you tell him sweetly. “That way, people don’t hurt each other!” You make a point to look over at Eddie when you say the last part, though his gaze is trained on the classroom posters. Harris, innocent and oblivious, walks hurriedly towards the group of kids playing with blocks.

“Didn’t know you were my kid’s teacher,” Eddie remarks, pressing his tongue into his cheek.

You shrug. “Maybe I would’ve told you if you called me.”

Shooting you the wide eyes that he passed down to his son, Eddie lets his lower lip jut out in a little pout. “I’m so sorry; life’s just been, like, crazy lately—”

“Exactly what Jeff said you’d pull,” you bite back. “Two PM, Mr. Munson.” You walk towards your students to begin circle time, leaving Eddie dumbfounded.

After a long day of wrangling ten four-year-olds, you’re ready to go home and take a nap. The kids are gathered around the table, molding Play-Doh and giggling amongst themselves. By 2:10, everyone’s been picked up. Except for Harris.

“Typical,” you mutter, kneeling next to the boy and smiling sweetly. “Whatcha making, Harris?”

He holds up a lump of the yellow clay. “A dinosaur, see? Roar!” You fake being scared, and he laughs. “Don’t worry; it’s just pretend!”

“Oh, phew!” You wipe imaginary sweat off of your brow. “I was afraid that he was gonna eat me!”

Harris reaches over to where one of the other students had been sitting and plucks a handful of blue Play-Doh off of the table. “Wanna play with me?” He’s looking at you adoringly, and you can’t possibly turn him down.

Just as you’re about to join him, Eddie runs into the room. “Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m late. Got, uh, caught up with something.”

Harris just shrugs, unaffected by his dad’s tardiness. “S’okay. Look!” He holds up the dinosaur proudly, giving another ferocious roar.

“That’s awesome! And super scary.” Eddie ruffles Harris’s curly hair before looking at you. “Can we talk for a sec? Out there?” he asks, gesturing to the hallway.

You huff out a sigh. “Fine,” you concede, and Will slips into the chair next to Harris.

Eddie closes the door behind him. “Listen,” he begins, twisting his rings around his fingers, ”about the other night…” He trails off, and for a split second, you think he might offer a genuine apology. “I just don’t want this to affect how you treat Harris.”

You bark out an incredulous laugh. “You really think I treat my students any differently based on whether or not I like their parents?” Crossing your arms, you turn back towards the door, throwing out a pointed, “I think it’s best if you leave now.”

Eddie’s voice draws you back into the conversation. “I’ve never had this problem before,” he snorts.

“Excuse me?”

“Most girls love the thrill of the chase. The will-he, won’t-he. Haven’t struck out yet,” he retorts, a smug grin spreading on his face.

You roll your eyes. “Well, I’m honored to be the first. I don’t know what girls are into your pathetic games, but I’m certainly not one of them. So, please, just go before you say something else ridiculously stupid.”

Eddie bristles at that, standing a bit straighter and clenching his jaw. “Yeah, whatever,” he mutters, twisting the doorknob and punctuating his frustration with, “Frigid bitch.”

He’s just trying to get under your skin, and you refuse to let him get the best of you. You plaster on a well-practiced fake smile. “If you don’t think that this classroom is a good fit for Harris, you can request a transfer with the office.”

“Sounds like a plan, Sweetheart,” he snaps, yanking the door open so aggressively that it smacks into the wall. “We’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow.”

“Can’t come soon enough.”

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starryevermore · 1 month

Text

my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand ✧ azriel

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

pairing: azriel x vanserra!fem!reader

summary: azriel tries to fix the mess he made. you almost let him.

word count: 4,529

warnings?: angst city™ bitch, dual povs, threats of death, traumatic childbirth, azriel begging for forgiveness, open ending, there will be no other parts to this, not proofread

PART ONE

As the only daughter of Autumn, your relationship with your brothers was quite different than their relationships with each other. You were no threat to the throne. A female could never be High Lord. Yet, that did not let you free from Beron’s iron tight grip on his family and their perception by Prythian. The only thing a female was good for was marrying well and producing children. If you ever proved yourself to be an embarrassment to the Vanserra family, you learned the limitless bounds of the former High Lord’s wrath. Your brothers would be there to help mend you, offering comfort in the best ways they could. It wasn’t much, but it meant a lot to you.

It damn near broke your heart when you realized you had to leave them behind to be with your mate. Beron would never—ever—allow you to be mated to an Illyrian brute. Knowing that your brothers would only be hurt if you told them, you decided that Eris was the best option in confiding your plan to run. Together, you left a note saying that you were leaving to be with your mate and he helped you cross Autumn’s border. You prayed to the Mother that Beron was not too cruel to him, or your other brothers, when he discovered your disappearance. You knew you would likely not see them again, and you hoped they might forgive you for that. Then everything Under the Mountain happened—you were trapped in Velaris for fifty years, all too aware that you would never find out if they did.

That was the one blessing, you supposed, of returning to the Autumn Court all these decades later. With Beron gone and Eris as High Lord, it was easy to fall back in with your family. Though Eris was ready to march down to the Night Court and burn Azriel where he stood, and your other brothers were ready to follow, things calmed down in the end. The rage still simmered, hovering just below the surface. All it would take was one wrong move by the Night Court and any alliances Eris had previously forged would go up in smoke.

Despite your request for no further correspondence, the Night Court continued to periodically reach out to you. Mostly Feyre because she had been your friend, but occasionally Rhys who would inquire about the status of your pregnancy. Though he never said it outright, you knew it was to find out if your babe had wings. His motives, you were unsure. Was it out of concern for your wellbeing? You recalled how panicked he had been during Feyre’s pregnancy. Perhaps he was worried about you for your sake. A larger part of you thought it was out of concern for his brother. That if your babe had wings, then it would mean you would surely die. And if you were to die, could you find it in your heart to let your mate be by your side one last time? Your skin itched at the thought of Azriel anywhere near your babe.

Truthfully, you didn’t know. Whenever your healer, a kind elderly fae named Brigid, would ask if you wanted to know, you would always decline. You didn’t want to experience your pregnancy knowing there was an expiration date. You wanted to live it, to enjoy it. Because Nesta could not bargain with the Cauldron any longer. Not even her, in all her power, could save you. You would rather spend your final days healing from Azriel’s betrayal and preparing for the birth of your child than worry about the inevitable.

Besides, you were worried that the loyal shadow wound up wrist would run to Azriel at the first sign of harm to you.

Eris was not fond of that choice. He was certain that he could find a way to save your life should it come down to it. You were less convinced. But he was a prideful male, and you had learned long ago to not get in the way of a male’s ego. If he wanted to be delusional, so be it. That didn’t mean you had to feed into those delusions.

Today, however, was a day of celebration. The Fall Equinox had come and so the Forest House was alive with fae from across the courts. The Night Court wasn’t present—hadn’t even been extended an invitation, if Eris was to be believed. You admired his loyalty to you, but you knew the Night Court was not an enemy to be made. To be their ally was to be protected. In a land still wrought from the effects of Amarantha and the King of Hybern, it would be too costly to be making enemies of a court so powerful.

You ignored those concerns today, trying to focus on the festivities. It was hard to enjoy them. You were at the end of your pregnancy. Brigid had warned against your attendance, arguing that you needed to rest. But you were stubborn like your brothers. If you wanted one more night of revelry, you should have it.

That was, ultimately, your downfall.

You were dancing with one of your brothers, Crispin. Or, at the very least, dancing the best you could. You were sure it looked pathetic—a far cry from the elegance Beron beat into you. You were having too much fun to care. So much fun, you almost missed the pain shooting through.

You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips. Crispin froze, extending his arms out to help steady you. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Do you need to sit?”

“The babe—there’s something wrong with the babe,” you manage, keeling over from the pain.

“Give me one godsdamned reason not to gut you where you stand.”

Azriel barely glanced up at the male in his house. It was only a matter of time, he mused, before one of your brothers came for him. For some reason, Lucien hadn’t been particularly high on the list he made, ranking the likelihood of each brother to come breaking down the door. Mostly because Lucien spent most of his time in the mortal lands, far away from news of what Azriel had done. But, eventually, all word gets out.

“Because I deserve a more painful death than gutting me would provide.”

Lucien’s hand wound itself in Azriel’s hair, yanking it back. A blade pressed against his throat. “Damned right you do. She was always too fucking good for you.”

“I know.”

“Do you know how many males would kill for a mate as kind as her? Do you know how many males begged Beron for her hand? You are lucky she ever spared you the time of day,” Lucien hissed.

Again, Azriel said, “I know.”

And he did. Mother above, he did. Every day of the last nine months, Azriel had been kicking himself for treating you the way he did. How had he misread all of the signs? Why did he let his anxieties, his worries of not being good enough for you, cloud his judgment? Azriel found himself wishing he could turn back time, stop himself from ruining the best thing he ever had.

Now, he was left in the dark. His friends scarcely spoke to him. Ever since Feyre and Rhys learned of his accusations, word spread among the Inner Circle. Cassian looked at him like he didn’t even know his brother. Mor sneered the first time she saw him. Amren hadn’t said a word to him. And Nesta…He was sure she was going to rip his wings off and throw him off the House of Wind. Even Elain looked at him as if he were a monster. Sometimes, though, Feyre would fill him in on the few replies you sent to her letters. And if he asked pathetically enough, Rhys would send you inquiries about your wellbeing. Those never got a reply.

Azriel almost wished he had a mission to go on to distract himself. To able to take his pain out on another helpless soul. But Rhys had barred him from his work. A punishment for his actions, Azriel was sure. Rhysand would never call it that. Always said something about giving Azriel time to reflect. But Azriel was tired of reflecting. Reflection wouldn’t undo what he did. Reflection wouldn’t bring you back.

“You’re a pathetic excuse for a male,” Lucien spat. “Hybern should have killed you. It would have spared the rest of us from your waste of a life.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. It would have killed you, he was sure, if he had died. But at least you would know he loved you. At least you wouldn’t be aching because your mate proved he didn’t trust you. You wouldn’t have your babe, but at least you could be assured that Azriel would never accuse you of infidelity.

“Have you seen her?” Azriel croaked.

Lucien released his hold on Azriel’s hair. He fell forward, but didn’t turn to face the male. He could hear Lucien’s snarl as he said, “Color me surprised when I return from the mortal lands to learn from Elain that you cast my sister aside, made her leave her home, because you refused to listen to her. You’re lucky that Eris answered my letter with haste, explaining she was safe in Autumn. Consider yourself even luckier that the High Lord made me wait to come here before I got that answer. Do you have any idea how far she had to travel on foot? You made a pregnant female—your mate—travel through Winter alone.”

Azriel held back his sob.

“A farmer had to be the one to bring her to Forest House. She would have died if not for his kindness.” Lucien’s hand curled around Azriel’s throat, his nails digging in. “Their blood would have been on your hands if they did.”

“I-I didn’t think—”

“No, you didn’t—”

Hurt,a shadow whispered. Azriel’s head snapped up. He wrenched himself out of Lucien’s death grip, searching for the shadow he hadn’t seen in months. Most of the others had stuck around, hissing their disapproval in his ear. But he knew one had gone missing, prayed to the Mother that it was making sure you were safe when he couldn’t. Come quick.

“What?” Azriel breathed out. No. No. It couldn’t mean you. You were safe, in Autumn. You were under your brothers’ protection. No harm should ever befall you there. None…Unless—

She’s hurt. The babe is stuck. Come—quick.

Azriel jumped out of his seat, moving faster than he had in months. This couldn’t be. The babe didn’t have wings. Surely, if the babe had wings, you would have told Rhysand. You would have told someone. Unless, you didn’t know. He had to get to you. He had to see you.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“She’s gone into labor,” he managed. The room felt like it was spinning. Was he about to lose you forever? No. No, he couldn’t handle that. He could handle you alive, hating him forever. But to lose you like this…For you to not know how deeply sorry he was, he couldn’t live with that. He would sooner follow you in death than live in a world without you. “The babe has wings.”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “They’ll kill you if you go. They’ll make me look like mercy.”

“I-I need to get Madja. She has experience with this. I need to give her a shot.” Azriel sniffed, praying the tears wouldn’t fall. Not now. “Even if she never lets me see the babe, I need to do everything in my power to give them a chance to live.”

Azriel half-expected Lucien to drive his dagger into his heart. Instead, his lip curled. “Go. Before I change my mind. I’ll warn my brothers of your arrival. They will welcome Madja’s help. But whatever they decide to do with you, I will not interfere.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m not doing this for you.”

“I know. But…thank you.”

Your screams do not sound like your own. It sounded like, felt like, it was coming from someone else. Nothing about this, truthfully, felt like it was happening to you. You were vaguely aware of your mother on your right side, Eris on your left. Brigid was between your legs, trying to help the babe into a proper birthing position. Somewhere beyond the closed, oak door you could hear your brothers Crispin and Heath shouting at someone. Oh, you hoped they were terrorizing the servants.

“You’re alright, my love,” your mother was saying as she stroked your hair, “you’re doing so well.”

Your scream was your only response. Fuck. You had never experienced pain quite like this before. Not even Beron’s flames compared to this. It was a miracle you hadn’t passed out yet. Though, the thought of shutting your eyes and closing out the rest of the world was quite tempting. No. You needed to stay strong. If not for yourself, then for your babe. You had to give her a fighting chance.

Her. You were so certain your babe was a female. Brigid had never told you, because you had never asked. If you had known, the gender or the status of wings, you would want to tell Azriel. It would be the one thing, you were certain, that would break your resolve. You weren’t sure if you ever wanted the shadowsinger back into your life, but…Well, he had always want a babe that looked just like you. A little princess to dote on. To show how to fly.

Another scream ripped through you. It felt like your soul was being torn out. Like sharp talons raked down your body, gripping at your essence, ready to take you back to the Mother. You wouldn’t go back. Not until your babe was born. After that…If the Mother wanted you, she could take you. Your babe would be in safe hands with your family.

Desperately, you tried to search out for the shadow that not left your side in nine months. It had become a source of comfort. Its cold nature soothed the flames of Autumn burning inside of you. It reminded you of home. But when your eyes flicked to your wrist, then down your arm, it was gone. How long had it been gone? Why did it abandon you when you finally needed it? Where did it—

Something slammed against the oaken door.

Eris’s head snapped up to glare at the wood. “What in the Cauldron is happening out there?” he hissed.

“Go, check,” your mother said. “We need to keep this room as calm as possible. If your brothers are picking fights out there, then they’ll only make it worse. She cannot afford any unwarranted stress.”

Eris gave a tight nod and stepped away from your side. He didn’t even make it halfway across the room before the door slammed open, the wood splintering. A body hit the floor. Your vision was too blurred to make out who, or the person who stepped over him, approaching your bed. That is, until she was close enough for you to recognize the all-too-familiar face.

“Madja?” you managed. “How—”

“He brought me here,” she said, stepping in between your legs. Brigid made room for you, taking the opportunity to move away to grab some fresh towels. Madja tutted at the sight of you, then got to work.

“I don’t want him here!” The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

You barely caught Madja glancing over to the fallen figure. In the haze, you finally recognized the wings. Azriel. He was here. Your breath caught. That was why the shadow had left you. It had gone to find him. Was it out of loyalty to its master? Or was it out of concern for you? A little shadow escaped from Azriel, speeding back to you. The cold thing stroked your face, as if to comfort you, to apologize for leaving you alone.

Azriel’s head lifted. You were grateful you couldn’t see the hurt in his eyes. Crispin and Heath each grabbed an arm, dragging your mate back up to his feet. Though you all knew he could easily fight them off, he didn’t make a single move. Purple was already beginning to blossom on his exposed bits of skin. Had that been why you heard your brother’s shouting?

Too pained to stand the look of him, you focused back on Madja. “Better or worse than Feyre?” Your voice was tight. It took every bit of your energy to not roar in pain.

“The babe is starting to come out, but her wings are stuck,” she said. “We’ll have to break bones to get her out.”

“Mine or hers?” you nearly cried.

“Both.” Madja glanced up at you. She masked her sorrow well, but you saw through it. You knew the next thing she was going to say, and you knew your answer, too. “I don’t know that I can save you both.”

“Her. Save her.”

“NO!” Azriel shouted.

You barely processed Eris’s body slamming into Azriel. He let out a low groan at the contact. If you weren’t already in so much pain, you would have been able to feel how much that hurt through the bond. You wondered how much Azriel could feel. For the last nine months, you had kept your end closed. But after going into labor, it took too much effort to push him away.

“You are the last godsdamned person who gets to make decisions about her,” Eris hissed. “You’re lucky I don’t throw you in the fucking dungeon—”

“I already gave him the whole speech, brother.”

Lucien? How did he get here? How did he know?

Azriel ignored your brothers. To Madja, he pleaded, “Give her a chance—both of them a chance.”

Eris’s fist landed square on Azriel’s jaw. “Don’t even look in her fucking direction.”

“All of you, out!” your mother shouted. The males all froze in place. “What did I say about removing unnecessary stress? Eris, take him to the library and let him stay there until this is over. The rest of you, make yourselves useful.”

Your attention turned back to Madja, ignoring the sulking males, as her cold hand touched your knee. “We have to make a decision, dear.”

From the corner of your eye, you watched as Azriel stiffened. He wouldn’t be pleased with you, you were sure. And perhaps it was cruel to subject him to the cold pain of losing a mate. But that was mercy compared to what he did to you.

To Madja, you said, “Do what you must.”

Azriel stared at the oak doors of the library. Eris and Lucien had been left at his guards while Crispin and Heath disappeared to gather more supplies for Madja and Brigid. He paid them and their snarls no mind. Nothing could distract him from your wails of pain echoing through Forest House. Every inch of him, every fiber of his being, called for him to go to you. To be by your side. It was only your words that kept him still.

“I don’t want him here!”

Five words was all it took for you to rip Azriel’s heart out. How you did it so succinctly, struck him right to the core, when it took an illogical rant from him to break yours was a mystery to him. Worse yet, Azriel wasn’t sure you were even aware of what you were saying. You looked like you were barely processing Madja’s appearance. Did you truly want him gone?

Visions of your near-lifeless eyes looking at him flashed through his mind. He was going to lose you today. Was it a kinder fate for you to die than live in a world with him? Would things be different if he hadn’t fucked things up so spectacularly? Azriel imagined you in your shared home, your family—the Inner Circle—surrounding you. Love for you would be in the air, not contempt for him. Would that have been enough to save you?

He shook his head. He was being ridiculous. Your family—the Vanserras—loved you, too. Perhaps more than the Inner Circle. While his family was content to ignore his existence, yours was willing to strike him down where he stood for even deigning to show his face in Autumn. He was sure Crispin and Heath would have actually killed him if they hadn’t drove his body through the door first.

Azriel flinched as another scream ripped down the halls.

“Don’t act like this is painful to you,” Eris snarled.

Azriel managed to lift a glare to him. “I can feel everything she does. If she is hurting, so am I.”

“That mattered little to you when you accused her of being a whore,” Lucien said.

“And I will regret to the day I die. I will spend the rest of my days atoning for what I did.” Azriel lifted his chin. “But would killing me save her?”

Eris stepped closer to him. “Don’t even pretend to care about her. Where have you been these last nine months? Where were you when her morning sickness left her unable to leave the bed for days, unable to keep anything down? When she would go to Brigid for updates on the babe? When she couldn’t even pick out things for a nursery because the perfect one was left behind in the Night Court?”

He jerked like he had been slapped. Sometimes, he could still feel the sting of Feyre hitting him. Until today, she had been the only one brave enough to hurt him for what he did. Azriel would take every beating, though, if it meant you would live.

Azriel opened his mouth to respond, but fell short. Silence rung through Forest House. Your screams—they had stopped. The cries of a babe did not fill their place. He tugged desperately at the bond, hoping to feel your pull. Nothing. There was nothing.

No.

No, he couldn’t lose you.

No.

Against his better judgment, Azriel fled from the library. He raced down the hall, the eldest and youngest Vanserra hot on his heels. He needed to see you. He needed to know that you still lived. Perhaps you were asleep. Birth was exhausting. Azriel remembered Feyre slept for hours after having Nyx. Perhaps you were doing the same. But then why wasn’t the babe crying?

The door was ajar when he reached it. It took little effort to push it open, to open himself to the scene on the other side. On the far side of the room, Madja and Brigid had the babe. A beautiful little girl. His beautiful little girl. Azriel’s eyes flicked back to you. Your mother was covering your body with a blanket. Were you truly sleeping? No, you were too still, even by fae standards. Your chest didn’t rise. Your eyelids didn’t flutter.

Azriel’s gaze fell to your limp hand hanging from the edge of the bed. He sank to his knees, reaching for it. He half-expected Eris or Lucien to rip him away, to throw back back over the border. But no one touched him.

“Let him mourn,” he heard your mother say.

“He doesn’t deserve it.” Whether that was Eris or Lucien, he wasn’t sure.

“It matters little what he deserves now.”

You couldn’t be gone. You couldn’t be. Somewhere beyond, a faint cry rang through the room. A weight lifted off his chest. At least the babe survived. At least Madja managed that. But…None of that mattered if you weren’t here, too. None of it mattered if you couldn’t hold her.

A hand touched his shoulder. He lifted his head to stare up at your mother. “Her name is Bronwyn.”

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“We’re going to take her to a wet nurse. But…you may stay for as long as you like. Ignore my sons. They are in pain, too.”

“Thank you,” he said again.

Silence filled the room again. Azriel was certain he was alone again, until he heard padding of footsteps along the wooden floor. He didn’t have to look up to know it was Madja.

“She could still live. It is not…It is not the worst birth I have seen. I have seen weaker women pull through from more horrible circumstances.”

“Why do you tell me this?”

“We believe, when people are in this state of limbo, they can still our world. Talk to her. You might be able to pull her back.”

“She wouldn’t come back for me.”

“Then why did she nearly tell her mother to come get you?” Madja patted his shoulder. “Food for thought. Do as you wish, Spymaster. I will be back to check on her later.”

Azriel did not move for three days and three nights. Despite what Madja had said, he couldn’t find any words to share with you. Everything felt wrong. What was he supposed to say? Apologies would scarcely suffice. Should he beg? It was tempting, but he wasn’t sure his pathetic snifflings would return you, either.

Every so often, your mother would come in, Bronwyn in her arms. She would lay the babe on your chest and coo about how much she was growing already. Lucien would come in to tell you about what he had been doing in the mortal lands. Eris was rant about the politics of being a newly minted High Lord. Heath would talk about the latest book he had read. Crispin came once—sobbed about how he should have realized what was happening, should have gotten you help sooner.

Everyone else had something to say. Something more moving, more earth-shattering, than whatever grovel he would wretch up.

But on the fourth morning, as the morning sunlight began to stream onto you, he lifted himself from his knees. There was just enough space beside you that he could curl up to. It cramped his wings, but he was willing to ignore the pain.

“I should have cherished you,” he whispered. His throat was tight. “I should have trusted you. I do, trust you I mean. Before you, I never knew unconditional love. Even through the last few centuries together, it still boggled my mind that you could look at me and find something worth loving. When I came home that day, I was so scared that you had finally found something better. It will never excuse what I did.”

He reached up, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Come back, my wildfire. Not for me. I could spend the rest of my life making up for that mistake, but it would never be enough to warrant your forgiveness. But your family…They shouldn’t be hurt because of what I did. Come back for them. Come back for Bronwyn. Come back, and you will never have to see me again unless you so wish it. Just…live.”

Azriel’s eyes squeezed shut. He felt wetness drip down his face, onto your soft skin where his face was pressed. “Please, live.”

Your eyes opened.

#azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x fem!reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel x female reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel fan fiction #azriel fanfic #azriel fan fic #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #starrywrites #starryevermore

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cr4yolaas · 2 months

Text

for lovers who hesitate — tsukishima kei

synopsis: you find your old academic rival at your new job. every bone in your body says it’s fate, but everything else seems to be stopping you.

notes: puking cuz idk how i feel abt this one. i worked on this all thru out my trip and there was a lot of scrapping and rewriting and deleting the entire thing and rewriting it again, but i think this version is the best i could get it to. i <3 tsukishima kei

tags: fluff → angst → fluff, self-indulgent long fic, reader smokes, reader has trauma w/ their parents, mainly fem reader oriented but gn pronouns used, reader has self-destructive habits, themes of self-doubt from both, tsukishima is probably ooc, slow burn but not really, the most awkward love confession ever, mitski rdr x radiohead tsukishima (sorry), proofread but not really

tsukishima kei, for once, was at a loss for words.

there you stood beneath the bright green foliage, your face marred by the heatwaves of the sun and still all too familiar. he thought, for a moment, that he had the wrong person — you had taken on a rougher appearance, but his body, heart, and soul still recognized you. and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to speak to you.

where had the last decade gone?

he coughed into his fist and walked past you, feigning ignorance to your arrival. when you followed after him with a keycard of your own, he found himself flustered.

no words were exchanged. he was playing the silent game with you, although he quietly hoped you would say something first.

and thus, he continued his shift as usual, with the added oddity of you shadowing him alongside his boss. he just couldn’t find the proper words to place on his tongue, nor the right gestures to show that he did want to talk, he just didn’t know how to.

but truthfully, what was one supposed to say in such a situation?

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

you believed that tsukishima hated you. and you wouldn’t blame him.

when you applied for this job, you had no expectations going into it, save for the hope of a higher salary and a lighter load than your previous job. what you had not anticipated was to stand face to face with the man you swore to hate in your youth.

a sliver of hope embedded itself within you; an overwhelming desire to perhaps refurbish a long lost relationship had taken root. but when he looked away so persistently and spoke not a word to you, that sliver dissipated into meaningless sand.

you continued your work as best as possible. it was a routine job — set up the displays for the day, guide whatever visitors came around, and leave in the afternoon. but when a certain blonde was sneaking glances at you and somehow always in your vicinity, it proved to be easier said than done.

you were too afraid to admit that his presence was refreshing. that, in the midst of the mundane and borderline unhealthy cycle you had formulated within the past handful of years following graduation, he had proven to be an odd factor; he stood as a disruptor to the routine. it was unwelcome. and even still, you craved it and more.

tsukishima kei had always been a constant in your life. you just didn’t expect him to reappear so soon, so suddenly.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

it was a wednesday. an uneventful shift had come to an end. and just as you rid yourself of your work attire, a verbal invitation to a work party was sent your way.

the prospect of it was almost laughable. you were under the impression that the body of employees in a museum would be too reserved to host parties such as this, and you were quickly proven otherwise. thus, you accepted instantly.

as soon as you sat down, you regretted it just as quickly.

the moon had just barely begun to hang bright in the sky, and yet the table was already full of drunken coworkers that you hadn’t seen before. loud chatter filled the room, as if this table was the only one in the establishment. it was overbearing.

before you could take even a sip of your drink, you excused yourself under the pretense of needing to use the restroom. instead, you escaped outside, the gentle breeze reestablishing your senses and reeling you back in.

he was also there.

“oh,” he exclaimed softly. his eyes drifted away from yours, the warmth of his cheeks illuminated by the dim lamp above. oh was the first word he had ever spoken to you since graduation. you nearly laughed.

“hello,” you offered quietly, still testing the waters of conversation. your gaze fell to his fingers, slim and cherry-kissed and blemished, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “um… i didn’t expect to see you here…?”

tsukishima laughed lightly at your tone, as if to conceal his own anxieties. “likewise.” he watched as you pulled out a cigarette, the stick meeting your lips like it were more than natural. “did you come all this way to stalk me? or to follow me? after all those years of silence?” he teased, although a tinge of bitterness dripped from his words.

you shook your head aggressively. “no, no, i just…” you bit at your lip for a moment before continuing. “i’m taking a break from my actual job. i needed to wind down before i return.”

tsukishima hummed at your response, evidently oblivious to your lie. he looked at you for a moment too long, his eyes grazing over each alteration and unfamiliar feature. he could not help but admire you in this light — the soft strings of moonlight in contrast with the neon signs glaring against your complexion painted an image he hadn’t seen in ages.

for the first time in a long time, tsukishima kei thought you were unbearably pretty.

what he didn’t catch wind of was your nervous shuffles and your incessant skin-picking as you stood beside him. he didn’t realize that the cigarette was a distractor, a tool to pull you back in. and he failed to acknowledge the stutter in your voice as you spoke to him, for it hadn’t crossed his mind once that you thought he disliked you. not that it would matter to him, anyways.

it’s too soon, he thought to himself. this is stupid, he argued. i’d mess it up if i did anything reckless, he reasoned. all of which were excuses to fight against the overwhelming reality of his vulnerability.

you turned your head away, the extended silence whittling away at whatever confidence you once bore. tsukishima watched with framed eyes and a calculative stare, as if scrutinizing each and every action you took. unbeknownst to you, it was the exact opposite of that.

the soft call of your name from inside the bar pulled your attention away, much to his dismay. he witnessed your frame disappear through the doors, your eyes flitting towards his so quickly he might’ve imagined it.

this was foolish. tsukishima decided that much. but despite his claims of how stupid it was, he was getting reeled in faster than he could pull out.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

despite how hard he tried to display his ignorance, tsukishima was caring at his core.

silent glances exchanged between shifts morphed into small conversations shared whenever possible, as if the tension that previously barred you from interaction had dissipated into nothingness.

at some point, he dropped off a neatly wrapped bento box to your desk, the fabric littered with small dinosaur doodles.

“what is this?” you questioned, an amused lilt to your voice. you failed to notice the way pink rose to his ears, too enamored by the intricate arrangement of veggies and rice.

“don’t think anything of it. i just had leftover food and didn’t want to waste it.” the excuse slipped through his lips as if it were truth, earning him a soft smile from you.

there were butterflies whipping their wings against his ribcage so aggressively they might have bulged out from his skin.

eventually, you invited him out for a walk to the convenience store nearby during your break. and after that, it became routine. with an umbrella in one hand and his wallet in another, tsukishima walked with you down the street to buy onigiri and sandwiches and sometimes a sweet treat nearly every day, and that shared hour became his favorite part of work.

it was silly.

you sat beside him in the booth, your blistered hands carefully unwrapping the plastic from your meal. to your left sat a can of soda. and to your right, he was there.

“i need to stop living off of these,” you complained while motioning towards the onigiri in your grasp.

tsukishima shook his head. “what else would you eat?”

“your bento boxes,” you commented absentmindedly, your bites becoming larger as you neared the center of the rice. “i liked it, when you gave it to me that one time. you should make it again.”

he looked away, his chin resting atop the sweat of his palm. slowly, he turned towards you. “it’s just a bento box. surely you can handle making one.”

“oh, shut up!” you laughed while shoving him lightly. “the fact that you can even make one is shocking. all you have in that head is volleyball and shit.”

“our old test scores say otherwise,” he quipped. the shift in your eyes left a bitter taste on his tongue.

“whatever,” you muttered before leaving to throw out your trash. a pit grew in tsukishima’s stomach.

the blonde mustered the last of his resolve and made an offer. “i’ll teach you how to make one.”

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

of all the things tsukishima was bracing himself to see, a thinly-walled apartment that was less than well-maintained was the last thing he was prepared for.

you came out from your bedroom in clothes that were far more casual than his, your hair disheveled and your steps uneven. “sorry for the mess,” you uttered while bending down to pick up a hoodie sprawled across the floor, alongside a plastic bag that looked empty. he could only watch in awe.

he placed his bag down on your counter before arranging the ingredients, each brought from his own home. the clatter of your rushed cleaning echoed behind him. and when you finally stood beside the man, he could not contain his grin.

tsukishima decided to hold his tongue. instead, he opted to gently guide your hands through each step, the perspiration collecting on his skin a stark contrast from the rough texture of yours. he realized how little you knew, despite your insistence that you were more than knowledgeable in what you were doing — it showed in your unstable cutting and your hesitance when preparing the pot for boiling — but he refrained from commenting, in fear of disrupting the peace he’d constructed.

on the other hand, you were horrified.

to admit that you were inferior to him in yet another aspect uprooted the envy you had burrowed deep within yourself, and you were terrified of letting it overspill. he was so calm — at least, that was what it looked like — and you’d be damned to ruin it.

mitski’s soft hums reverberated in the background, your shaky chopping filling in the rest of the noise. it was almost satirical — the solemn melodies coated your bare bones and rendered you silent, a strong juxtaposition to the warmth exuded from the closeness of your skin to his. neither of you did anything to interfere, save for an earlier comment from the man questioning your music taste.

(“then what do you listen to?”

“… radiohead.”

“wow. as if that’s any better than mitski.”)

tsukishima found himself smiling at your pride in your creation. messy, yes. but within each ingredient lay a remnant of him, and that was enough.

a stream of small talk emerged into you sitting on the couch together. the music dimmed down to white noise and an old romcom that had only two star ratings played on your TV, the poor quality adding to the humor. your legs leaned against his beneath the blanket. and there was peace.

tsukishima knew what it was. he knew what this would blossom into, and he could only hope and pray he didn’t mess it up in some way. your quiet yet crude commentary disappeared into the tender air, and he remained silent, as if absorbing each syllable that fell from your lips.

it was so quiet, and so vulnerable, and so delicate that he felt like he was going to explode.

he didn’t question it when your head fell onto his shoulder. he didn’t make fun of you when your colorful reviews on each scene turned into sleepy ramblings. and he didn’t say a word when you dozed off against him, your whole body against his.

instead, he looked around. he took note of the dust collecting on the cabinets, the water marks on the windows, the clothes and food and plastic scattered all over your living room, the dead plant on the shelf, and the half-empty pack of cigarettes sitting on the arm of the couch. it was all a far, far cry from the cleanliness and stability of his own home, and yet, he thought to himself, this is so like them. and he thought, i could live in here, if it were with them. and again, he thought, this could be a home.

tsukishima kei was of the belief that he did not have a type. but as he observed your house and reflected on its singular (?) inhabitant, he figured that this was his type. his type was your quiet laughs and your sharp remarks and your wrinkled clothes and the scent of cigarettes that always seemed to cling to you. his type was you.

he exchanged one last glance to your sleeping figure before getting up and leaving you to rest. not without wrapping up your lunch for tomorrow, and not without a small smile on his lips.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

hell came to you on a thursday morning — the day following whatever had happened between you and tsukishima. you hadn’t put on your uniform just yet, and your belongings sat outside of your locker.

your boss scrambled into the office, his brows furrowed and his larger hands closing the door as quickly as he could without slamming it. the sweat that collected between his wrinkles shined beneath the dim lights. his breaths were haggard and rushed and shallow.

for the first time in a long time, you felt fear.

“there’s people who want to talk to you outside,” he whispered. “they want to talk to you now.”

there was no one else in the building. no one other than you, your boss, and the people who were so adamant on speaking to you.

so why was it so loud as soon as you stepped out?

the eyes of your mother came into your vision first. then, the stare of your father. and finally, their faces blended into one large picture that made sense.

“what the fuck are you doing here?”

withered hands slammed against the table. you watched the papers and the dinosaur trinkets rattle. “that’s no way to speak to your parents.” you could feel it — the air seeping out of your lungs, depriving you of breath; the trembling in your palms; the cloudiness in your peripherals. you could hear them, but you couldn’t hear them. at some point, their vocabulary was solely financial, and at another point, it grew cruel and violent, akin to wild dogs gnawing away at your skin. you didn’t know where it was going. the hastened footsteps of an unidentifiable coworker neared, and the shaky breaths of your boss behind the door grew louder and louder.

you needed to leave.

your feet led you away before your mind could. the yelling softened, until finally, the only sound was the chirp of birds and the whirring of cars.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

tsukishima didn’t see you for a week. he didn’t hear any mention of your name, didn’t find your face in a crowd, didn’t feel the vibrations of your voice against his chest. you had disappeared, and no one told him why. it wasn’t until your name didn’t show up on the schedule that something clicked.

it was cruel. you were cruel, he decided.

tadashi sat on the couch while his roommate leaned against the counter. the hum of the air conditioning blinded the blonde’s senses.

“i don’t fucking know what i did,” tsukishima groaned into his palms for the twentieth time that night. “they just left. they quit and i can’t even contact them because i was stupid enough to not ask for their number or email or anything. i don’t- i don’t fucking know, ‘dashi, i don’t.”

“i’m sure they had some good reason,” his friend attempted. “i don’t think they’d do that if it weren’t within some sensible limit. it was fucked, yeah, but… i don’t know. i think they’ll come back when the time is right.”

it was tiring. it was tiring to be left alone not just once, but twice. and it was tiring to have it hurt so much more the second time.

tsukishima ran a hand through his hair. “it’s so stupid.” another groan spilled from his tongue. “i’m so fucking tired of this.”

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

this was just about the fourth job you had applied for.

the museum could no longer be a part of your routine — instead, it morphed into loud nights and bustling men and the clinking of glass; it emerged from quiet and gentle tours around dinosaur exhibits to noisy cheers and yelling and the more-than-occasional bottle thrown at your head; it turned into pure, devastating loneliness.

it was compact. it was suffocating. it was overwhelming. it was everything the museum was not. but you could not return there, no matter how much you ached for it.

you were avoiding him. avoiding everyone.

a gentle nudge from a blurred face reminded you that your shift was over for the night, coupled with an apology for the gash that formed on your head from another drunken man who had no outlet for his anger other than you. with heavy steps, you trudged back home, thankful for the week’s pay and the free food and drinks.

it was quiet.

the lights were off, and the LED numbers on the microwave read way past midnight. a dull pounding resided in your chest.

just the other day, it was so vibrant. you were alive, and so was he, and it was going well. but it was wrong. you realized that much when your parents came to remind you, and you realized it again as you quit the same day.

the thumping in your chest spread to your head, and your back met the wall with a force that was sure to upset your neighbors. carefully, daintily, you slid down, your body reaching the floor gently.

you missed him. but it was wrong.

that night, for the first time in a long while, you cried.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

tucked away in a small alley in sendai resided an establishment with only three tables and a bar that was worn down from years of use. and behind it, tsukishima found you.

he was only out for a walk. at least, that was what it was until his feet brought him elsewhere and he stood face-to-face with the most suspicious of buildings. and when he saw you, it felt as if all the anger and guilt and distress that riddled his bones and flesh and blood withered away, as if it hadn’t coalesced within his veins over the past month.

before you could hide, his hand snaked around your wrist, his touch light yet desperate. “can we talk?”

talking entailed bringing him back to your apartment. and by extension, it included him witnessing your house somehow being worse than before.

tsukishima found himself sitting on the floor with his back to the couch, and you found yourself sprawled across said couch. he picked at the blisters on his fingers before quietly asking, “why did you do that?”

he could hear your nervous habits — the shifting, the fidgeting, the harsh lip biting. “i don’t know.”

“bullshit,” he muttered under his breath.

you turned over onto your side to face his back. “my parents found me,” you explained meekly. improper guidance leads to destructive tendencies. tsukishima kei, in his high school years, was deemed your only obstacle to complete succession — always a few points ahead, a few questions ahead, a few steps ahead — and your poor influence from youth only fueled such a fire. and so, you felt that it was reasonable to loathe him. your judgement was clouded beyond repair.

tsukishima listened. he listened to every detail, every portion of your retelling of each segment of your childhood, and your teen years, and your silly hatred for him. he listened to you talk about what you did after graduation — how you got into a good university but dropped out and hopped between a multitude of jobs (thus proving your claim at the work party to be a lie), and how you were constantly escaping from both the stress and your parents.

he listened so intently that it was overbearing. you didn’t tell him that. instead, you talked and talked and talked until you sculpted him into someone who knew your entire life, as if he were there from the beginning.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered through stubborn tears. you hated it — how exposing it was, how you had practically dumped everything onto him in one go, how you couldn’t help but beg for forgiveness in the end. most of all, you hated how easily he gave you his forgiveness.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

tsukishima didn’t leave your house at all that week. you found no energy to complain.

in the morning, you’d find him cleaning whatever disaster you left behind, whether it was the pile of laundry on your bed or the collection of full trash bags next to the front door or the food (or rather, the lack thereof) in your fridge. he was silent all the while, and that hurt more than any berating he could have done.

“why are you still here?” you asked him one night. you had finally moved from the couch to the bed, and tsukishima couldn’t be any prouder. (any movement at all was enough to be proud of, he felt). “you shouldn’t want to be here.”

you watched him heave a heavy breath as his shoulders drooped. “because i want you,” he admitted, his voice unmistakably tender and soft and ridden with a youthfulness that he unearthed from deep within himself. “i want to be with you and i want you to be happy and i just want us to be happy together, for once.”

he spoke of his affections so fluently, as if he were born to share them with you. and still, every bone in your body was whispering otherwise.

even so, tsukishima promised that he would be willing to wait. even if it meant watching you down an unreasonable amount of beer at an unreasonable hour.

he promised to sit through it all with you, even if it meant listening to you call his name out in long, drawn-out tones. even if it meant hearing you confess your long-harbored affection for him. even if it meant hearing you say that you never told him, not even in high school, because you felt like you didn’t deserve to tell him.

tsukishima didn’t understand.

he failed to comprehend how you didn’t feel deserving, when his whole body, mind, and soul was bound to you; when, in the depths of the night, he’d burn pink in the night at the mere thought of you; when he was so uncharacteristically smitten for you. he didn’t get it. he didn’t think he ever would.

not that he said anything about it — at least, not in that moment. not when you were inexplicably drunk, to the point where you couldn’t move a limb without tumbling over.

but, without a doubt, he went to bed with a stupid grin and a berry-kissed face.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

it took another couple of weeks before tsukishima would see you at work again. you entered through the doors as if you never left, and he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be excited or neutral or anything else, because his guts only knew tenderness with you at that point — all the fake ignorance and stubbornness and denial had been cast aside.

you basked in a shared silence in the locker room, until you finally admitted that you were, in fact, healing. to some degree, at least. you asked him to come over again under the pretense of seeing how clean your house was. you detailed every segment of your life, from when he last saw you to your entrance into the museum, including how you made yourself breakfast for the first time in forever and how you drank a cup of water almost every day. and he was so overwhelmingly proud, so much so that it spilled over and he couldn’t contain himself.

“i love you,” he blurted out, his rushed admission cutting off your rambling. you whipped your head towards him, but he was looking everywhere except for you.

“what?” you exclaimed.

“i said i love you. i’m in love with you. what don’t you get?”

your jaw hung open, just like that of a fish. “wait- what the fuck?” much to his amusement, you jumped up and began pacing around the room. “i like- well, i guess, love,” you paused, the vocabulary uncomfortable on your teeth. “you too, but like- what the fuck? who told you that?”

“you did.”

“what?”

tsukishima kei was laughing. he was laughing at you, and yet, you weren’t as angry as you expected to be. he was laughing, and all you could do was relish in the noise.

“so,” he hummed delightfully, an amused smirk on his lips. “am i still coming over?”

you (begrudgingly) agreed. again, he laughed — this time, at the heat rising to your face.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

through the cracks between your blinds, silk strands of sunlight crawled through, a soft reminder of the morning. beside you, a mountain of warmth lay, with his glasses still on his face and his hoodie misshapen on his body.

tsukishima was always the first to rise. he would wait for your eyes to flit open gently before getting up and making breakfast, despite your protests that your food was probably better than his. he never listened.

the splatter of coffee into your cup served as the only noise in the room, save for the dull noise of the morning news on the TV and the cars passing by outside the window. you watched intently as the blonde set up the table, his lip drawn in a tight line but his eyes shimmering with contentment. “eat up,” he spoke quietly as he took a seat in front of you.

tsukishima kei was, by no means, a cruel person. he was just a little rough on the edges and occasionally didn’t quite know how to say things without being mean. but as he sat with you, eating breakfast made by him in your shared apartment; as he pressed a fleeting kiss to your forehead before leaving to change, ignoring your groans about the remnants of syrup on his lips; as he drove you to work as the sun settled in the sky; you realized he was simply a man in love.

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trashmouth-richie · 1 year

Text

older! eddie x fem! reader

summary: when your bf skips town /‘s you can’t pay your rent, you put on your best outfit and knock on your landlord’s door begging for forgiveness

@eddiemunsons-missingnipple for the Eddie edit

w/c: 3.8k

t/w: 18+ ONLY —heavy smut, degrading, hair pulling, mouth fucking, choking, edging, switch!, daddy!kink

He was an asshole to extraordinary proportions. A life full of mold covered lemons would do that to a person. You were nervous, to approach him. But something told you he’d hear you out— listen to you. Maybe even be sympathetic to your pleads.

Yeah right.

As if he were made of anything but pure hatred. Toxicity swirled in his veins, his poisoned skin covered by decades worth of tattoos; all dark and sharp edged.

His peppered scruff balanced out his naturally soft eyes. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. A scowl that would make any resident of Forest Hills Trailer Park think twice about crossing. But you were left with no choice. When Trey had ditched town with the human bicycle Chrissy Cunningham, you were short on rent. Bills were tight, and you often ate in the dark, or by candle light. Anything to save a bit of money.

And that’s what led you here. Standing at your landlord’s door. Putting on an extra swipe of lipgloss, making sure to curl your hair, and wear a low cut tank top, the only push up bra you owned, and some cheap lashes from the mall— you knocked politely on the sun faded door. Hoping for some sort of a miracle that Mr. Munson would take pity on you.

One knock. Nothing.

Another. Still nothing.

It’s not until you are slapping your hand into the door that a voice behind you startles you nearly out of your too short skirt.

“What’d’ya need?” He’s covered in motor oil and grease, standing below you on the dirt and sparse grass covered ground, wiping his hands on a once red rag, a ring of sweat around his white tank top, bandana wrapped around his head, cigarette hanging gingerly from his slack lips.

He remembers the day you had moved in, it was freezing cold in early February. All by yourself, moving things one at a time in a shitty old Buick he hadn’t seen around since his high school days. He wanted to offer his help, something he didn’t give to anyone. But something about the way you smiled as he showed you around the dingy shithole of a trailer, voicing your opinions on what could be spruced up, made him hate you a little bit less.

Everyone in the park knew not to bother Eddie. He was a grumpy, mean son of a bitch and his patience was rail fucking thin. The Johnson’s dog went missing? No shit, he was the one who called animal control to come and pick it up, fucker had fleas and probably rabies. Can I paint the kitchen? Fuck no. The sink isn’t working at lot 8. Call a mechanic. And just for the annoyance he upped their rent $100.

Seeing you on his steps, dressed like that, sparkly tits, and your bra showing through your tank top had his dick twitching in his pants. Of course you were a smoke show, and he was honestly surprised to hear that ol’ what’s his face ran out on you with Chrissy Cuntingham. Her shit had been rode hard and put away wet more times that could be accounted for. Bitch still wore her homecoming tiara and had her green and orange pom poms in the back window of her car— despite the fact that graduation was more than 25 years ago. Worse than an alleycat, and smelling like one, Chrissy mostly kept herself busy by buying the minors alcohol or showing her many “party tricks” to the bachelors of the park. Sitting on his porch, smoking a joint like he did every night, Eddie took note of the black jeep that showed up every Thursday outside trailer 6, a graying head of suave douche boy hair could only be one person, Jason Carver.

He took note that your trailer, right next to his, was full of screaming and yelling when your boyfriend was home. A noise all too familiar in the trailer park, bouncing off Eddie’s ears like birds chirping.

But when he was gone? The window to your bedroom would be cracked open ever so slightly, propped open with the soft cover of Stephen King’s IT. The kitten purr of a vibrator and your delicate moans sang out to him. A siren amongst lonely fishermen, calling out to them in song of entrapment only to eat their souls, bodies never found amongst the dark sea bed. At first he thought it was wrong to listen, wrong to hear your pleasuring yourself, but he had sworn he heard his name on your lips, more than once. Fisting his cock angrily to your voice, your wet mouth, swollen lips from him sucking on them, pretty little pussy aching for him. He didn’t need playboys anymore when he had your face to imagine. And imagine he had.

What would your sweet pussy look like wrapped around his cock? Would you swallow his load down your throat if he asked, demanded you to? Sweet thing like you wouldn’t have to worry about anything if you were his. The choked laugh after he finishes all over his hand makes him shake his head at the idea. He didn’t know your age, old enough to be on your own but definitely not 45 like he was. Visions of your sugar plum tits bouncing in his face as you rode him on the itchy couch in his living room, lulled him to sleep most nights.

He saw a peek of a tattoo on your side when you were hanging clothes on the line. Your body drove him in, his eyes melting around your curves, the swell of your ass in the jean cut off shorts you wore. When you saw him staring you waved him over, a devilish grin on your lips, a wanting sparkle in your eye.

He knew your type, trouble. And oh fuck the trouble he would love to be in. He’d never volunteered to fix anyone's appliances. But your silky saccharine voice had him calling a mechanic in a few days time, would have been sooner if he could have tore his eyes away from your tanned legs, but he kept those extra days all to himself, whimpering at night with a sore cock your name on his breath. It had been seven months of you living next door, your vibrator turned on like clockwork every day your boyfriend left for work.

And now here you are. Looking at him with “fuck me” eyes and a glossy smile on your lips. Those same lips purring out pleasantries about how fuck face left you and you were needing an extension on rent. The swell of the summer sun hit your cheeks, making you glow like some love sick angel on his steps. He was fucked. And soon— you would be too.

“So what?” He tried to gamble, tried to keep his hard facade, “an extension and then what’s next? You’re gonna tell all your little friends that I give hand outs to the needy? Oh no doll, not today.”

He pushes his way around you and into his trailer, the pungent smell of too strong incense burns your nostrils as you hold the door from him shutting it.

“Please, Mr. Muns—.”

“Eddie,” he grumbles.

“Eddie, please— I’m begging you,” the glimmer of a tear welling in your eyes, your voice dipping low into an almost whisper as you made your way inside, shutting the door behind your back and feeling around for the lock, “I’ll do anything.”

Eyes dripping of sex appeal and lust, you tip your tongue to the center of your top lip, eyeing his tightened jeans and you swear you see his dick twitch beneath the stretched denim.

Cock at full alert he shakes his head, his head dipped low and eyeing you up and down, lip bit between his teeth. A low groan in his throat, he talks in a gritting whisper, “Don’t start something you can’t finish sweetheart.”

“Oh I plan on finishing, big boy,” you hum walking towards him, devilish grin planted on your lips, “I don’t think we’ll have a problem with that, will we daddy?”

Fuck. Not even touching you yet and Eddie is rock hard, he could probably cum if you asked him to. Thanking a higher power that he wasn’t twenty anymore, he’s got years of stamina built under his worn leather belt. “You’re about to write a check your ass can’t cash doll, you sure this is what you want?”

“stop talking,” you breath, inches from his lips, he can taste the peach flavored lipgloss on his tongue, “and fuck me.”

Not needing any more of an okay than that, Eddie turns you around in a swift motion, a gasp escapes your lungs and he catches you before you stumble over your heels. He drags your hips down into him, your ass round and luscious on his stiffened length. He rips the neck of your tank top open exposing the mountainous swell of your chest and your cheap K-Mart bra. Pinching your laced nipples between his rough fingers, he rolls them like joints as his hot mouth assaults your neck, painting you, he sucks bruises into your neck, licking them better with tiny flicks of his satanic tongue and ending in a bite, marking you as his.

Pushing your ass into him you can feel his cock. His achingly girthy length has you soaking your panties, dripping wet just for him. His smokey smell is mixed with sweat as you angle your neck back against his shoulder, moaning into him as he sucks like a vampire into your neck. His stubble rubbing against your skin.

“Eddie,” you moan breathless into the humid air of his trailer.

He groans, your body pushed tight against him has his head spinning, drunk off your touch. Grabbing your skirt and yanking upward. Dripping in anticipation, your panties could be wrung out, your arousal pooling from the center and beading slowly to the ground. He hisses and hums when his finger first skates along the slick of your panties with a schlick, “fuck, all this for me doll?” He’s playing now, his thick fingers moving in lazy circles around your clit, your creamy pussy clenching desperately on nothing, you nod with a whimper.

“You gonna make all those pretty little noises I hear from your window once that dumbass you let fuck you leaves the house every day? Hmm? Didn’t think I could hear did you?” His cocky bravado kicks his cock up on your ass, sending a moan through your body as you rub deeper into him.

Quite the opposite actually

Purring into his neck you lick the expanse of skin he’s showcasing. Blowing hot on the slicked spit from your tongue, you rotate your hips to angle his fingers better on your clit, the sensitivity rolling like an electric current through your veins.

“I did it on purpose,” you confess breathlessly as Eddie’s fingers stop. “Watching you stare at me for months, I knew you’d touch yourself over me.”

Eddie groans gutturally twisting your body into the front door, back hitting the broken shades with a thud. In milliseconds he is on you, hot tongue lapping up your neck and biting with enough force to break skin. No time to be patient to have you undress for him, he shoves your skirt up tipping your panties clean off. Your exposed pussy shuddering with his blown breath on your slick core. His devilish eager tongue expertly licks and teases your clit. Humming with each jerk of your body as the sensitivity makes you squirm. Tongue wiggling inside of you like an eel, your hands are gripping his hair for dear life, yanking at the roots like you’re pulling weeds. Your thigh is on his shoulder, the leg on the ground begins to shake as your first orgasm rips like a tidal wave through you. Head thrown back against the door, moaning loud enough for the entire park to hear— you don’t care.

Your noises stir Eddie’s arousal even more. Whimpering as he grip him impossibly tighter he a broken, “fuck,” into your folds as he goes back for seconds, “you’re gonna get me into trouble, pussy so fucking sweet.” His lips are wet, your arrival shining like pretty lipgloss allover hos chin and lips. Already spent from the teasing and the damn breaking, Eddie hikes you up over his shoulder, your bare volumtuous ass bouncing with every step. He throws you onto a king sized bed, unmade and reeking of weed. Rolling papers on the night stand along with several lighters you aren’t given much time before Eddie kicks his jeans off, boxer briefs do him justice as his cock jumps to his belly when he unthreads his legs from them. Pearly beads of pre cup drip from the thick head.

Eddie leans forward and places a thick hand on your neck, your vision blurs and returns with each grip he threatens and releases his teeth biting your lips, slow drops of blood seep from his bites, he licks the wounds clean.

“Havent used rubbers since the 80’s and I won’t, so are you on the pill or are we ending this right now?”

“Pill,” you warble, chords of your neck strained against his hand.

“Thatta girl,” he praises, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, “I’m gonna fill you up full with my cum you’ll be leaking it out for hours.. maybe days.”

Tears sting your eyes at the thought of his glorious pearly cum deep in your walls painting them pretty, “please daddy, I need it.”

Eddie grins, “so needy baby, you want this cock?” he asks, flicking it through your folds, a noise resembling macaroni and cheese is blasts from your core, he groans deep, “so fucking wet,” his lip is almost bit in half with how he’s trying to hide his excitement, “I’m gonna wreck this sweet pussy so you won’t be able to walk home.”

Whimpering like a bitch in heat, Eddie flips you over, angles your ass up, slapping each cheek hard enough a red hand print sized welt develops almost immediately, he pushes all of himself into you, bottoming out as you moan and cry thanking God in your head as you’re split open, a welcomed pain. Spit soaks his sheets from your mouth when he pulls out, “oh you can take it, honey, don’t fucking quit on me.”

“I’m n—,” gasping loudly when he spits harshly on your ass. Rubbing his thumb against the pink button. The new sensation brings color to your closed eyes, stars and shapes of all size float in your closed mind, your pussy clenched harder around Eddie as you whine his name.

“Yeah?” Eddie moans, “told you daddy would take care of you, that needle dick can’t make you feel like this can he?”

you try to choke out a ‘no’ but no noise comes out, your head is thrown back violently as Eddie grabs your hair in one hand and pounds mercilessly into you.

Eddie is grunting with each slap of his heavy sack against your clit, “this is what you came here for right? Bad girl can’t pay her rent so she came to fuck the owner in exchange?” His taunting only makes you wetter, makes you clench his harder as you come undone for the second time. Screaming his name until you’re breathless. Panting and sweating like you ran a marathon. He gives you one more deep thrust of his hips and watches you fall forward.

“Look at the mess you made you little whore,” Eddie spits, venom laced words on that glory filled tongue, as he drags you by your hair to look at his soaked cock, “lick it up, want you to know how fucking sweet you taste.”

Eddie flips you over like a rag doll, positioning you the way he wants. Head dangling off the mattress, Eddie groans as he jams his cock into your throat, holding it there and choking you simultaneously. He reached to the night stand and grabs a black small vibrator placing it on your clit. The vibrations make you moan and choke around his length and against his hand. Eyelids fluttering shut you’re positive you can’t breathe, just when you’re about to pass out he brings you back, letting you breathe for a few seconds, chuckling to himself as you enter the hazy bliss of intoxicating euphoria. Your body convulses under his. Begging for a third orgasm, you can taste the earthy tang of your release and Eddie’s pre cum mix on your tongue.

His girth fills your throat completely, barely leaving room for your own tongue in your mouth. He’s dripping sweat onto your own body you can feel it slip from your belly button down into the curve of your neck. Eddie's hair is swaying in conjuncture with his hips slamming home against your face. Using your mouth like his own fist has you soaking the sheets, clit over stimulated, a deep bruise settling inside the soft silk of your velvet folds. A bruise you’d wear proudly for weeks to come.

Slapping your face as you gag lightly, mind steadily focusing on the jerking of your legs and the vibrating pulse of your cunt. Eddie shushes you reassuring you, tauntingly “someone too big for their britches huh? Work through it, sweetheart— that’s it, fuck good girl,” he chokes a whimper down his own throat as your tongue swirls around him. “Christ, swallowing what I give you, such a good girl for daddy.” Eddie thrusts one more deep cant of his hips into your mouth groaning deeply when you hollow your cheeks. Letting you breathe freely.

“You like that? Like me using you like a worthless fucking toy?” Eddie lifts you up to his face by your hair, kissing your lips delicately, you nod and whimper as he harshly sucks and nips at your neck leaving purpling marks in his wake.

Unabashedly you scratch your long nails into his chest, leaving your own mark on him as he groans against your skin. “My turn,” you whisper as you crawl into a standing position in front of him. Kissing him sweetly and pulling his bottom lip between your teeth, he whimpers at your touch. A tantalizing smile radiates across your lips. Eddie Munson a switch? Who knew? Pushing his shoulders backwards he falls on the bed, curtains of curls cascade around him and his face is turned up in shock then to a satanic grin.

Wiggling your tight skirt down your body you stand in only your heels.

“Fuck, you are a goddess.” Eddie groans, stroking his thick length in slow rhythmic motions as he stares at your body shamelessly, you climb towards him on his messy sheets between his legs your poor abused throat sore and bruised from his animalistic fucking.

His chest is littered with tattoos both old and new, faded and blown out lines mixed amongst sharp edged fresh ones stark against his pale skin. Blistering red lines decorate him from your nails earlier. Knees on either side of his hips you slot your pussy lips against his needy thick cock, sliding forward and back again, your hands on his chest for leverage. Leaning up on his elbows and moving you both backwards so he can rest his back against the headboard, he scants forward to kiss you but you push his forehead away dumbly.

Tsking and using few words to speak with a hoarse voice you whisper, “no touching.” Grinding your hips down into him, pocketing his cock in your slick folds like a sword in a sheath, you lick a stripe up his neck and land at this ear, your pretty moans singing to him like a demon seeking a naive victim. His hips jump with each roll of your own, desperate for relief he whimpers and whines as he’s close and you retreat. Starting all over again. After the third go around his bangs are stuck to his forehead, cheeks warm with a frustrated, worked up blush as you edge him again and again.

“Mmm’ fuck that’s a good cock daddy,” you moan as you come hard on his cock again making a mess yet again, he groans as you milk him for all he’s worth, your creamy pussy clenching against him, and your denial of his release is too much for him. “you wanna come for me?”

Eddie nods in spent anticipation, practically tearing up from being so worked up and being able to release himself. “Please— I can’t,” he groans, as you start grinding on him again, only this time you give in, hugging him in a pinky sheath of gummy walls and slick floors. “Christ,” he melts as you bounce atop his cock, dragging your hips backward and forward helping him hit the spot you so desperately craved from him. His thick hands are on your hips moving you to his liking, a pebbled nipple in his mouth makes you cry out his name as he pumps into you holding you still.

He slaps your ass, “I’m gonna come, shit, fuck!” He hums your name as hot ropes of his thick release coats your walls and floods out you don’t stop riding him, coaxing every last drop out of him until he’s hissing through his teeth as his softened length falls out of you, hot, reddened and aching.

Eddie pulls you to him, kissing your neck and scooting you both down the bed. “Think you’re my favorite tenant,” he laughs as you lay motionless on top of him, both breathing heavily.

“Jesus, I’d hope so, but maybe Miss Richard’s comes over here to get some money knocked off her rent,” you tease, tracing circles into his spotty chest hair, “heard she’s real pretty in her nightgown, just gotta be careful of her poligrip.”

He laughs again, smacking your ass, “you’re a fuckin’ brat y’know that?”

“And you’re a filthy fucker, quite the pair I’d say,” you spit before biting his chest.

Eddie yanks you by your hair to look you in the eyes, “not every day a pretty baby like you comes knocking on my door to rattle my cage and get free rent. But I’d like if you came over more often, that attitude needs adjusting.”

“oh really?” you question, hand under your chin like you’re bored as you roll your eyes, “and your old ass is gonna be the one to tame me huh?”

You spend a greater part of the night bent over Eddie’s knee, his studded belt in his hand as he whips you again and again. Tears spill from your eyes, and coat his thighs. Eddie’s sadistic ass only grins, a joint hanging limply from his lips, shushing you softly, “don’t cry honey, I told you your ass wouldn’t be able to cash that check.”

👅 I’m gonna go touch grass now

#eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #older!eddie #mean!eddie munson #daddy!eddie munson #landlord! eddie

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steddieas-shegoes · 6 months

Text

first and second and third kisses

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'idiots to lovers' rated: T wc: 602 tags: idiots to lovers, frustrating levels of obliviousness, first kiss gone horribly wrong followed by first kiss gone perfect

💏💏💏💏💏💏💏💏💏💏💏💏

He could sit on the couch, where it was comfortable, where it was warm, where it made sense to sit.

Or he could sit on the floor, where the kids had all piled on top of every pillow in the house, looking for a comfort they really only found with each other.

But Eddie was on the couch and he'd been weird all night.

Not with everyone.

In fact, he'd been totally normal and fun and silly with everyone.

Except Steve.

They'd been great. Hanging out all the time, joking around. Steve went to his gigs, got high with him in his van after, usually ended up with his head on his shoulder while Eddie told him made up stories of heroes with bats and kids with hearts of gold.

Eddie sat with him after nightmares, made sure he wasn't alone in his empty house with too many bad memories to keep track of.

They took turns driving the kids everywhere, usually still finding excuses to meet each other at the destination.

And just this morning they'd had breakfast together, pancakes made by Steve, coffee made by Eddie.

Steve had hugged him when he left, like he always did.

He dug his nose into the curve of Eddie's neck like he always did.

But he hadn't pulled away first like usual.

Something had made him purse his lips, something had made him linger, and something had made Eddie tense in his arms before awkwardly pulling away.

Now, hours later, Steve had to wonder if he'd ruined their entire friendship because he was seeking more comfort than Eddie could provide.

Eddie didn't look at him as he chose the couch, the only available spot being the cushion between Eddie and Argyle, who had already fallen asleep with his head on Nancy's shoulder.

Steve could feel the warmth of Eddie despite his cool attitude, but kept his head down, avoiding any potential accidental touch by curling into himself as much as possible.

"Think I need some fresh air," Eddie said suddenly, standing up and leaving before Steve could stop him.

Erica, the only person still awake enough to notice anything, glared at Steve.

"You gonna follow him or are you both just gonna pout about your feelings for the next decade?"

Steve stood up, not even quite sure why, or what he was actually going to do once he was with Eddie.

Eddie was smoking when he joined him, silently sitting next to him on the same pool chair.

"Why'd you do it?" Eddie finally asked, leaning down to put out the cigarette.

"I-" Steve shrugged. "It just felt right. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, man."

He was met with silence.

And then a hand on his cheek, guiding him to look over.

"You should've gone all in," Eddie said before pulling Steve in for a kiss.

Their teeth clashed together painfully, immediately forcing them to break apart with loud groans.

Steve let out a small laugh.

"Slower," he said, cupping the side of Eddie's neck as he leaned in.

His lips ghosted over Eddie's, a small smile breaking across their faces at the same time.

This time, when Steve pulled away, Eddie tugged him back to his resting place, his nose in the curve of Eddie's neck.

He smiled and pursed his lips, leaving the soft kiss he'd intended to earlier.

"We've been kinda stupid," Eddie suggested.

"Today?"

"For months, apparently."

Steve pulled back and frowned.

Then it hit him.

"Erica."

Eddie nodded.

"She's...intuitive."

"She means well."

"I don't think she does, but in this case, it worked out fine anyway."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles

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macrolit · 4 days

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By Elisabeth Egan May 18, 2024

“You’d be shocked by how many books have women chained in basements,” Reese Witherspoon said. “I know it happens in the world. I don’t want to read a book about it.”

Nor does she want to read an academic treatise, or a 700-page novel about a tree.

Sitting in her office in Nashville, occasionally dipping into a box of takeout nachos, Witherspoon talked about what she does like to read — and what she looks for in a selection for Reese’s Book Club, which she referred to in a crisp third person.

“It needs to be optimistic,” Witherspoon said. “It needs to be shareable. Do you close this book and say, ‘I know exactly who I want to give it to?’”

But, first and foremost, she wants books by women, with women at the center of the action who save themselves. “Because that’s what women do,” she said. “No one’s coming to save us.”

Witherspoon, 48, has now been a presence in the book world for a decade. Her productions of novels like “Big Little Lies,” “Little Fires Everywhere” and “The Last Thing He Told Me” are foundations of the binge-watching canon. Her book club picks reliably land on the best-seller list for weeks, months or, in the case of “Where the Crawdads Sing,” years. In 2023, print sales for the club’s selections outpaced those of Oprah’s Book Club and Read With Jenna, according to Circana Bookscan, adding up to 2.3 million copies sold.

So how did an actor who dropped out of college (fine, Stanford) become one of the most influential people in an industry known for being intractable and slightly tweedy?

It started with Witherspoon’s frustration over the film industry’s skimpy representation of women onscreen — especially seasoned, strong, smart, brave, mysterious, complicated and, yes, dangerous women.

“When I was about 34, I stopped reading interesting scripts,” she said.

Witherspoon had already made a name for herself with “Election,” “Legally Blonde” and “Walk the Line.” But, by 2010, Hollywood was in flux: Streaming services were gaining traction. DVDs were following VHS tapes to the land of forgotten technology.

“When there’s a big economic shift in the media business, it’s not the superhero movies or independent films we lose out on,” Witherspoon said. “It’s the middle, which is usually where women live. The family drama. The romantic comedy. So I decided to fund a company to make those kinds of movies.”

In 2012, she started the production company Pacific Standard with Bruna Papandrea. Its first projects were film adaptations of books: “Gone Girl” and “Wild,” which both opened in theaters in 2014.

Growing up in Nashville, Witherspoon knew the value of a library card. She caught the bug early, she said, from her grandmother, Dorothea Draper Witherspoon, who taught first grade and devoured Danielle Steel novels in a “big cozy lounger” while sipping iced tea from a glass “with a little paper towel wrapped around it.”

This attention to detail is a smoke signal of sorts: Witherspoon is a person of words.

When she was in high school, Witherspoon stayed after class to badger her English teacher — Margaret Renkl, now a contributing opinion writer for The New York Times — about books that weren’t part of the curriculum. When Witherspoon first moved to Los Angeles, books helped prepare her for the “chaos” of filmmaking; “The Making of the African Queen” by Katharine Hepburn was a particular favorite.

So it made sense that, as soon as Witherspoon joined Instagram, she started sharing book recommendations. Authors were tickled and readers shopped accordingly. In 2017, Witherspoon made it official: Reese’s Book Club became a part of her new company, Hello Sunshine.

The timing was fortuitous, according to Pamela Dorman, senior vice president and publisher of Pamela Dorman Books/Viking, who edited the club’s inaugural pick, “Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine.” “The book world needed something to help boost sales in a new way,” she said.

Reese’s Book Club was that something: “Eleanor Oliphant” spent 85 weeks on the paperback best-seller list. The club’s second pick, “The Alice Network,” spent nearly four months on the weekly best-seller lists and two months on the audio list. Its third, “The Lying Game,” spent 18 weeks on the weekly lists.

“There’s nothing better than getting that phone call,” added Dorman, who has now edited two more Reese’s Book Club selections.

Kiley Reid’s debut novel, “Such a Fun Age,” got the nod in January 2020. She said, “When I was on book tour, a lot of women would tell me, ‘I haven’t read a book in four years, but I trust Reese.’” Four years later, on tour for her second novel, “Come and Get It,” Reid met women who were reading 100 books a year.

Witherspoon tapped into a sweet spot between literary and commercial fiction, with a few essay collections and memoirs sprinkled in. She turned out to be the literary equivalent of a fit model — a reliable bellwether for readers in search of intelligent, discussion-worthy fare, hold the Proust. She wanted to help narrow down the choices for busy readers, she said, “to bring the book club out of your grandma’s living room and online.”

She added: “The unexpected piece of it all was the economic impact on these authors’ lives.”

One writer became the first person in her family to own a home. “She texted me a picture of the key,” Witherspoon said. “I burst into tears.”

Witherspoon considers a handful of books each month. Submissions from publishers are culled by a small group that includes Sarah Harden, chief executive of Hello Sunshine; Gretchen Schreiber, manager of books (her original title was “bookworm”); and Jon Baker, whose team at Baker Literary Scouting scours the market for promising manuscripts.

Not only is Witherspoon focused on stories by women — “the Bechdel test writ large,” Baker said — but also, “Nothing makes her happier than getting something out in the world that you might not see otherwise.”

When transgender rights were in the headlines in 2018, the club chose “This Is How It Always Is,” Laurie Frankel’s novel about a family grappling with related issues in the petri dish of their own home. “We track the long tail of our book club picks and this one, without fail, continues to sell,” Baker said.

Witherspoon’s early readers look for a balance of voices, backgrounds and experiences. They also pay attention to the calendar. “Everyone knows December and May are the busiest months for women,” Harden said, referring to the mad rush of the holidays and the end of the school year. “You don’t want to read a literary doorstop then. What do you want to read on summer break? What do you want to read in January?”

Occasionally the group chooses a book that isn’t brand-new, as with the club’s April pick, “The Most Fun We Ever Had,” from 2019. When Claire Lombardo learned that her almost-five-year-old novel had been anointed, she thought there had been a mistake; after all, her new book, “Same As it Ever Was,” is coming out next month. “It’s wild,” Lombardo said. “It’s not something that I was expecting.”

Sales of “The Most Fun We Ever Had” increased by 10,000 percent after the announcement, according to Doubleday. Within the first two weeks, 27,000 copies were sold. The book has been optioned by Hello Sunshine.

Witherspoon preferred not to elaborate on a few subjects: competition with other top-shelf book clubs (“We try not to pick the same books”); the lone author who declined to be part of hers (“I have a lot of respect for her clarity”); and the 2025 book she’s already called dibs on (“You can’t imagine that Edith Wharton or Graham Greene didn’t write it”).

But she was eager to set the record straight on two fronts. Her team doesn’t get the rights to every book — “It’s just how the cookie crumbles,” she said — and, Reese’s Book Club doesn’t make money off sales of its picks. Earnings come from brand collaborations and affiliate revenue.

This is true of all celebrity book clubs. An endorsement from one of them is a free shot of publicity, but one might argue that Reese’s Book Club does a bit more for its books and authors than most. Not only does it promote each book from hardcover to paperback, it supports authors in subsequent phases of their careers.

Take Reid, for instance. More than three years after Reese’s Book Club picked her first novel, it hosted a cover reveal for “Come and Get It,” which came out in January. This isn’t the same as a yellow seal on the cover, but it’s still a spotlight with the potential to be seen by the club’s 2.9 million Instagram followers.

“I definitely felt like I was joining a very large community,” Reid said.

“Alum” writers tend to stay connected with one another via social media, swapping woot woots and advice. They’re also invited to participate in Hello Sunshine events and Lit Up, a mentorship program for underrepresented writers. Participants get editing and coaching from Reese’s Book Club authors, plus a marketing commitment from the club when their manuscripts are submitted to agents and editors.

“I describe publishing and where we sit in terms of being on a river,” Schreiber said. “We’re downstream; we’re looking at what they’re picking. Lit Up gave us the ability to look upstream and say, ‘We’d like to make a change here.’”

The first Lit Up-incubated novel, “Time and Time Again” by Chatham Greenfield, is coming out from Bloomsbury YA in July. Five more fellows have announced the sales of their books.

As Reese’s Book Club approaches a milestone — the 100th pick, to be announced in September — it continues to adapt to changes in the market. Print sales for club selections peaked at five million in 2020, and they’ve softened since then, according to Circana Bookscan. In 2021, Candle Media, a Blackstone-backed media company, bought Hello Sunshine for $900 million. Witherspoon is a member of Candle Media’s board. She is currently co-producing a “Legally Blonde” prequel series for Amazon Prime Video.

This month, Reese’s Book Club will unveil an exclusive audio partnership with Apple, allowing readers to find all the picks in one place on the Apple Books app. “I want people to stop saying, ‘I didn’t really read it, I just listened,’” Witherspoon said. “Stop that. If you listened, you read it. There’s no right way to absorb a book.”

She feels that Hollywood has changed over the years: “Consumers are more discerning about wanting to hear stories that are generated by a woman.”

Even as she’s looking forward, Witherspoon remembers her grandmother, the one who set her on this path.

“Somebody came up to me at the gym the other day and he said” — here she put on a gentle Southern drawl — “‘I’m going to tell you something I bet you didn’t hear today.’ And he goes, ‘Your grandma taught me how to read.’”

Another smoke signal, and a reminder of what lives on.

#reese witherspoon #reese's book club #reading #literary #club #book #new york times #elisabeth egan #article

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laracrofted · 5 months

Text

i want your midnights

synopsis: on the coldest new year's eve in a decade, bob floyd shows up at your door. prequel to delicate.

pairing: bob floyd x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ minors and ageless blogs dni, bob is really soft and cozy and lovestruck, swearing (barely), so much yearning and pining, kissing kissing kissing (wc: 2.2K)

note: surprise! i wasn't planning to write something for new year's, but i missed lovestruck bob. happy new year, loves! 🍾

summoning a few people who might be interested: @sometimesanalice @roosterbruiser @theharddeck @callsignspark @lewmagoo @gretagerwigsmuse @roosterforme @rhettabbotts

He shouldn't be here right now. For several reasons.

Technically, Bob should be on a plane right now – or on one of several planes because San Diego International doesn't offer any direct flights to the part of Montana Bob is from

He usually flies from San Diego to Los Angeles and Los Angeles to Bozeman and drives from there.

Except when half of California freezes over in the coldest storm in a decade on the very day Bob is supposed to head home for New Year's and grounds all of LAX.

This normally wouldn't be a big deal. He doesn't even care all that much about New Year's – New Year's is celebrated very casually in his family. He's usually in bed well before midnight. – but Bob already missed Christmas.

He and Phoenix were selected for a special detachment at the end of December, which – while an honor and a privilege, etcetera – meant Bob spent Christmas on an aircraft carrier in the middle of the Pacific. He didn't get back until December 28.

Phoenix immediately drove up to San Francisco to be with her nieces and nephews. He'd been waiting for New Year's.

Now, after countless delays and an eventual cancellation – which should've happened hours ago when Bob maybe could've found another way home, rented a car and driven the seventeen hours – Bob is stuck in San Diego.

Disappointed isn't a good enough word to express what Bob is feeling right now.

He could've driven back to his apartment – his sad apartment, already devoid of colorful lights and silver and gold decorations because Bob didn't expect to come back until January. He could've called Fanboy or gone to the New Year's Eve party at the Hard Deck, but Bob isn't in the mood to be around people right now.

He only wants to see one person.

And now Bob is here – standing outside of your apartment with a backpack and a carry-on, like Bob is about to clear out a drawer and move right in.

He probably looks like a weirdo. He definitely feels like a weirdo.

Damn. This was a mistake.

It's a brisk 40 degrees and dropping outside, and Coronado smells like ocean air and fireplace smoke. Pine needles, shed from the withering evergreens hauled onto the streets and abandoned the day after Christmas. Seawater and camphor and burning wood.

He shivers in the cold, broad shoulders rounding under the worn wool of his sweater. He should've worn something warmer – something nicer – but all of Bob's warmer coats are either deep in his suitcase or at his parents' house. He never expected to need them in San Diego.

A shaky puff of breath blows from his quivering lips.

He breathes in a deep and steadying breath. A bracing breath. And knocks on the door.

Minutes pass. Or maybe, just seconds.

Finally, Bob hears a voice from inside. Blessedly.

"Just a minute!"

Your calm voice is like a soothing balm, even muffled, even barely audible, and Bob feels like a loosed bowstring – held taut for hours on end and at the sound of your voice, finally let free. He can drop his shoulders and loosen his clenched jaw for the first time in the past day – in the past week.

Tension melts off of him like the last snow of late spring from the Montana pines. He can finally relax. He can breathe again.

A crack of light spills out of the creaking door, and Bob pulls his gaze from his scuffed brown Blundstones.

You are silhouetted in the doorway like a priceless Renaissance sculpture, glowing, curves highlighted and illuminated in the most beautiful dress Bob has ever seen.

Black satin, catching in the dim light and glimmering, like a blanket of stars on a cloudless December night.

He used to lay under stars like those in Montana and memorize the constellations. He feels the same sense of wonder, of awe looking at you.

He's always found you beautiful – even dressed in your coveralls with grease smudged on your cheeks, sometimes especially then – but now, fuck.

He's never seen your hair like that before, loose around your shoulders, curled like the ends of a ribbon on a beautifully wrapped present on Christmas morning. He shoves his hands in his pockets, slightly chapped and reddened from the dry cold, and pinches the denim between his palms, squashing the urge to reach out and wrap one of the delicate strands of hair around his finger.

A deep shade of red paints your lips, parting in a surprised smile. "Bob Floyd, is that you?" You shiver and hug your arms, and Bob, respectfully, keeps his eyes on your face. "Jesus Christ, when did it get so cold out here? Aren't you cold?"

"I, uh... run warm, I guess," Bob says. He lifts his baseball cap and runs his fingers through the mess of strands underneath, in desperate need of a trim. Sets it back on his head and squares his shoulders. "Are you headed out?"

You look down and absentmindedly shuffle your feet to look down at your heels – which reveals a slit in the fabric, exposing a line of bare skin all the way up to your thigh. God help him.

"Kind of. I'm supposed to meet up with some of the other mechanics at the Hard Deck. There’s some New Year’s thing there, I guess.” You fold your arms across your chest and look at him, still smiling curiously. “But what about you? What brings you here on New Year's Eve?"

He showed up out of the blue. Anyone else might be annoyed, but all Bob hears in your voice is gentle curiosity. Like Bob is the most pleasant of surprises.

"I spent 12 hours in the airport, only for my flight to get canceled, and I couldn't go back to my apartment after that and spend New Year's alone, but I couldn't go to the Hard Deck either. I'm sorry," Bob adds. "I shouldn't have shown up here like this. I should've called you. You have plans."

You regard him, expression calm. "Don't be sorry. I'm happy to see you."

You're happy to see him. You're happy to see him.

Is it cold enough for the pink in his cheeks to be mistaken for a different kind of flush? He hopes so.

"Do you wanna come in?"

His eyes grow wide. "Oh... well, what about your party?"

You drop your shoulder in a shrug. "New Year's is kind of lame anyway. I was really going as an excuse to get dressed up because I never go anywhere fancy enough to wear this dress. It's been in the back of my closet for months."

His eyes drop to the dress again, and absently, Bob wonders what the material would feel like between his fingers, what it'd feel like to run his hand over the elegant slope of your hip. He swallows.

"It's quite a dress," Bob croaks. His mouth is so damn dry. "You, uh... You look really beautiful. It's really... yeah."

You watch him, expression softening like warmed butter. "Thank you, Bob."

You look at him – look past the backpack and the scuffed carry-on and the slightly baggy sweater that once belonged to his older brother – and Bob feels seen, really seen. He feels safe.

You bump the door open wider with your hip and reach for his luggage, wiggling your fingers playfully until Bob passes the suitcase over. He's rewarded with a beaming smile, radiant and warm.

"Come on. You like Chinese?"

You change after Bob comes in, hanging up your dress and putting on an oversized gray sweater, pushed up at the sleeves, and a pair of fleece pajama pants that aren't quite the right length for your legs, covered in white dots and blue and white snowflakes.

You order the food and put on your favorite New Year's Eve movie while Bob calls his parents and gets comfortable, changing into sweatpants. His mom is pleased that Bob isn't spending New Year's alone, but Bob chooses his words carefully.

He is spending New Year's with a friend, not with a girl.

She'd ask questions Bob couldn't really answer in your hall bathroom.

When Bob comes back in, When Harry Met Sally is on.

You explain: "It's my favorite New Year's Eve movie. I watch it almost every year. If I start watching it 28 seconds after 10:30 PM – exactly, like down to the second – I can count down to midnight while Harry is confessing his love to Sally in the New Year’s scene."

You curl up on the couch, nursing a glass of champagne, while Bob sips from a chilled can of Ginger Ale while Harry and Sally banter and dance around each other and fall in love.

Admittedly, Bob is only half watching.

He likes this movie, but Bob is much more interested in you.

He is rarely alone with you.

He usually comes to see you on the Naval base – sometimes even making up questions as an excuse to come and talk to you, bringing coffee as a thank you for your answers – or seeks you out at the Hard Deck. He drove you home once when Bob was working late and spotted you in one of the hangars, but otherwise, Bob has never been here before.

About 30 minutes into the movie, Bob gets overheated and sheds his sweater, leaving him in a white short-sleeve and sweatpants underneath the oversized blanket from your bedroom. It's made of some kind of sherpa and smells like you.

Everything in here smells like you.

His legs are sprawled out in front of him, resting on the coffee table between a half-eaten plate of spring rolls and what’s left of his chicken chow mein. He ate his body weight in noodles and miso soup, and Bob feels warm and relaxed – if bordering on uncomfortably full.

He can barely focus with the smell of your perfume in his nostrils; excruciatingly aware of you underneath the blanket next to him, curled up with your legs folded underneath yourself, head lolling to the side, dangerously close to resting on his shoulder; smelling like cherries and champagne and vanilla and you.

A countdown begins in the background of the scene.

“Five…”

You sit up underneath the blanket, which brings you closer to him, inadvertently.

“Four…”

Your arm brushes against Bob’s.

“Three…”

You watch the screen, excited, and count along.

“Two…”

Your lips part in a wide and excited smile.

“One…”

Cheers erupt on the screen, but Bob isn’t even pretending to watch the movie anymore. He’s watching you.

You grin at him, eyes bright, looking so beautiful that Bob can’t hold the words in.

“Can I kiss you?”

Surprise flashes across your face, soon replaced with a small smile. Bob can see a lipstick stain at the corner of your mouth from where earlier, you'd messily wiped the red from your lips with a cocktail napkin. He wants to reach out and smooth it away with the pad of his thumb. He wants to kiss the spot where the smudge used to be.

Instead, Bob holds his breath. Waits.

He shouldn't have said anything. You've been such a good friend to him. You changed your plans, invited him in.

What if Bob's ruined everything now?

You've never been so close. You ask, "Like a New Year's kiss? Or like a real kiss?"

What if Bob hasn't ruined anything at all?

“Both,” Bob says softly, like a confession.

What if?

You're glowing in the sparkle of multi-colored lights, still strung along the walls, still decorating the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, blues and reds and greens, eyes glimmering, liquid warm. "Yeah. That'd be okay."

"Okay," Bob echoes, leaning in.

He presses his lips against yours in a gentle but firm kiss, cradling your jaw with a careful hand, stroking your cheek.

Bob doesn't linger. Doesn't press his luck.

He gives you a good and solid kiss and pulls back, eyes slowly opening.

"How was that?"

You lick your lips, and Bob follows the movement with his gaze, entranced.

"Kiss me again."

It's after midnight now, and uncertain, Bob asks, "Like a New Year's kiss?"

You shake your head, slow and clear, and lean in, and Bob meets you in the middle.

He kisses you in earnest now, kissing the smudge of red on the corner of your mouth, licking a drop of champagne from your bottom lip and sucking it into his mouth, running his hands over your skin.

You do the same, running your hands over his shoulders, over his neck, and knocking his baseball hat from his head, run your fingers through his hair. You pull on the ends of the strands, pull him closer, and god, it's all Bob can do not to moan into your mouth.

You're all warm skin and soft curves and sweet perfume, and Bob is drowning drowning drowning.

You knock the wind out of him, and eventually, Bob is forced to pull back and catch his breath. His chest is heaving. His cheeks are pink and warm.

You blink up at him, eyes wide and glassy, as if pulled from a dream, and give him a dazed smile. You murmur, low and breathless, "Happy New Year, Bob."

I think I'm in love with you.

"Happy New Year," Bob whispers instead.

end note: likes are always appreciated, but comments and reblogs make my whole day. i love hearing from y'all!

#bob floyd fic #robert floyd fic #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd x you #bob floyd angst #bob floyd fluff #laracrofted writes #fic: delicate #fic: bob floyd

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passivenovember · 18 days

Text

thinking real hard about Billy and Steve finding each other years after they've settled into themselves.

Billy's gone to therapy and he lives in a little house on the shoreline. Steve makes it to California. Doesn't have the six nuggets, yet. He's working insane hours at a job that isn't very lucrative, but he never had to sell his soul to his old man--

So. Point is. They're happy. Content, almost.

And then they find each other.

Steve's burning a pot of water when the phone rings.

It's like a knife through the air. A thorn in his side, pain and annoyance ramping up to an 11 as he yanks the receiver from the wall. "Yeah, now's not a great time," He says, because the goddamn smoke alarm's gonna start wailing any second now, and Steve's neighbor is real trigger-happy when it comes to alerting the fire department. "Look, I'll call you--"

"--Why answer the phone?"

Steve would know Billy's voice anywhere, the rough and tumble drag of someone who used to live fast and hard but doesn't, anymore. "I," Steve says, "I don't--"

"--It's like. Why answer the phone if it's not a good time to talk?"

"I don't like being impolite."

Billy hums, smoke and lightning on the end of the line. "So, you weren't waiting for me to call?"

"No," Steve says. But he was. Has been since high school and all the weird, boring, disheartening years that followed until Billy appeared at the dive bar on Saturday. Like a vision. An angel.

"Damn. And here I was, taking a full 72 hours to figure out what I should say," Billy tells him.

Steve can hear a smile.

Aches to taste it, but-- "That's kinda lame, Hargrove."

"So what?"

"So. You're kinda lame, I guess."

Billy laughs at him, then, high and bright. It shoots confetti into Steve's kitchen, the curling tendrils nearly catching on fire as Steve comes back to himself. He pulls the pan of water and dumps it into the sink, killing the flame on the stove.

"Yeah, I'm a disaster. Maxine tells me all the time," Billy says, "It's just. How weird, y'know?"

"What? You?"

"No, you," Billy tells him, chuckling again. "Fell outta the sky, or something. Into a shitty dive bar."

"So did you--"

"--Fell outta my dreams."

"So did you," Steve says, and his stomach twists. Tumbles. Washing-machine guts still soiled with the bloody red spots of a decade-long crush.

"Huh. You're kinda forward, Harrington."

Steve shrugs, face burning. "Long as I'm not as lame as you are."

"Dude, I didn't say you weren't lame."

"Sure, you didn't."

Billy's next laugh Steve feels in his gut, heat pooling behind the thatch of curly down at his pelvis. "Still such a bitch, pretty boy."

"I'm just being honest. We aren't getting any younger, I'm not really interested in playing it cool, anymore."

Something rustles as Billy shifts his weight, "You were cool, once?"

"Ha-ha."

"I don't wanna play it cool, either," Billy tells him, as serious as a heart attack, "Look, can I be honest? You mind?"

Steve nods and then remembers Billy can't see him. "Go ahead."

"I can't stop thinking about you."

Steve peers through the kitchen window, trying to imagine Billy somewhere on the edge of town with sunlight in his hair. Smoking in bed, naked gold until the duvet pulls him under hips first.

"Harrington, I need to see you again."

"Need is kind of dramatic."

"Maybe I'm feeling dramatic."

"Thought this was honesty hour, Hargrove?"

"It is. Honestly? I wanna kiss you," Billy tells him. "At midnight. In the pouring rain because I was too chicken-shit to do it after our first date."

Steve focuses on not swallowing his tongue. Damn near fails. "Was that a date?"

"No, it was bigger. It was the stars aligning, the start of--"

"--God, you are feeling dramatic."

"When can I see you?"

"I dunno," Steve says, fiddling with the lip of the sink, "When are we expecting rain?"

"Not sure."

Steve can hear his smile. Aches to sink into the softness. "I need a window to commit."

"Tonight. I'll make it rain."

Steve snorts, light as air. "You're crazy."

"I've had ten years to plan for this, Steve."

"Alright, lemme--" Steve pads over to the refrigerator, peering at his Kittens and Firefighters calendar. May is covered in birthdays, vacations, late nights at work, and roll-over plans from April, all hacked into the cardstock in striking red.

Steve groans and flips to June. "--Can you still make it rain in a month?"

"A month," Billy demands, "Fuck. You're hot shit but I didn't think--"

"--I have a full-time job. And friends who want to hang out when I'm not at work, but since I use all my energy at work I cancel on them, and things get moved around and--"

"--You can't make an exception for the guy who wants to eat you out?"

The pages of the calendar flutter, May settling heavy in the room. Steve swallows and his throat clicks. "Uh. My friends--"

"--Aren't gonna eat you out."

"They would. If I asked them to, at least one of them would."

"I'm not really loving that idea, pretty boy," Billy says, teasing. "What about over a lunch break?"

"You want to eat my ass over a lunch break?" Steve snorts, "I'm not a hooker."

"What's wrong with--"

"--I'm not," Steve says, "And even if I was, I'm not cheap. You couldn't afford the hour, and we'd need more than that, anyway."

"What about a sleep over?"

"A sleepover?" Steve says, turning from the refrigerator. "Like, where I come over to your house and stay until the morning?"

"Or I come over to yours, yeah."

"But--"

"Actually, let's do yours. Maxine's place is getting fumigated, so she and Lucas are staying in the guest house."

"You have a guest house?" Steve doesn't remember mention of that during their first date, but. He was distracted.

Billy laughs, "Bet I could afford your hour, pretty boy."

"I thought," Steve says, twirling the phone cord around his hand, "In high school, I remember you telling Becky Gordes that you don't do sleepovers."

"I'm gay."

"Okay, but what about Eddie Munson? The whole school thought you were fucking him, did he ever sleep--"

"--No, my dad would've killed both of us," Billy tells him, and. Something in his voice makes Steve's blood run cold. Makes him believe it.

So he shifts gears, "But. Don't you have work tomorrow?"

"Who said anything about a sleepover tonight," Billy says. Steve imagines the look on his face. Shit-eating grin bright and sharp and beautiful as always. "Unless you want me to come over tonight?"

"I never said that."

"I can work wherever I want. I don't have to go in at all, if I don't want to."

Steve pads over to his junk drawer, digging around for a red pen. "What does Saturday look like for you?" He bites the cap off, holding it like a straw in the curl of his tongue.

Billy laughs, "I thought you said you weren't free until next month?"

Steve chews on the cap for a moment, pen shaking over the cardstock surface of his calendar. He imagines Billy like he was that night. Different but exactly the same. Charming and soft in a way that only comes from the toil of regeneration. Years and years shedding skin.

He'd been funny and smart. Quick wittted.

Sweet. Like cotton fuckin' candy.

Steve remembers not wanting the date to end, not believing that the universe would give him Billy with no strings attached and laying awake that night, hoping Billy would call, and that they'd get their chance, and now--

"Shit. What the fuck am I doing?" Steve asks, but it comes out garbled and messy and wrong. Comes out sounding like, she whale the food ham ding dong.

Billy laughs at him, again, anyway. "What?"

Steve spits the pen cap onto the counter. "You really want to eat me out tonight?"

"Damn--"

"--Because. I was too fucking stupid to realize what was happening between us in high school. Or. What was happening to me when I saw you in high school, and this is important to me," Steve says in a rush. Fuck being subtle, right? "We're not getting any younger. And I haven't slept with anyone for a long time, much less someone who I've wanted for as long as I can remember, so if you're going to come over here and fuck me--"

"Or talk," Billy says gently. "We could talk more. Get to know each other."

Steve listens to the static on the other end of the line.

"I want to get to know you again, Steve," Billy says.

And Steve cracks. Like a bowl in the microwave, curdling under pressure and heat. "Alright, just. Do you have a pen and paper?"

"For what?"

"My address," Steve says, leaning against the sink, "I want to get to know you, too."

"Tonight," Billy asks, digging around for something.

"Tonight," Steve says. "What the hell."

"Great."

"You've got something to write with?"

"Yeah," Billy says, sounding like he's barely holding it together. "Yeah, just. Whenever you're ready."

That night, after, just as Steve falls asleep in Billy's arms--

It rains.

#harringrove #little fun thing to get me out of my writers block #and maybe sort of based on a real thing that happened to me recently #sort of #anyway!#bye!#billy hargrove #fluff #reconnecting

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sixx-sixx-sixx · 1 month

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THE TRADER’S DAUGHTER — cooper “the ghoul” howard x female!oc

EDIT; FOLLOW @bonafideyapper FOR FUTURE PARTS

warnings(?): dbf!cooper, female!oc, oc is described as brown eyed (but feel free to picture whatever you want), proofread to the best of my ability (correcting capitalization is not my priority on my phone, this is hard enough to format as is), this series will have smut at some point but let me work up to writing that (meaning, let me smoke this joint and see where the wind takes me), there’s allusion to smut in this towards the end but it’s nothing wild

(this is part one of some) - part 2

Daisy hadn’t seen Cooper for a very, very long time. She’d never forgotten the charismatic cowboy that told her stories of the old world and of his encounters with creatures in the wasteland. The ghoul that would bring her little trinkets from his travels, gifting her a pearl necklace for her 10th birthday. A single pearl on a dainty silver chain that she would wear every day until it wore out. She was 13 when that happened, and was utterly devastated. Thankfully, she had charmed a local boy for a new chain, sneaking behind her dad’s back to go on a few dates with the kid. She’s continue to flirt with men and make empty promises to them to replace the chain each time it broke.

Cooper had gotten himself into some thick shit, spending a good time locked up by some raiders and other bullshit that got him sidetracked. On the other side of the goddamn wasteland, on the fucking east coast. How did he even get to the fucking east coast? By the time he made it back to the trading post, over a decade had passed, and it showed in the size of the once-familiar settlement. More gambling, more fighting in the streets, whole lotta bad shit that he didn’t have time to get involved with. He made his way through the town, his gaze trained on the old trading post at the center of town. He took careful notice of how men sneered at him as he passed by them, mumbling some racist bullshit about his ghoulishness.

Fuck them, he thought as he stepped up to the door of the trading post. He opened the door to hear the old bell jingle to alert his presence, watching as a young woman walked out from the back room with a routine “Welcome to Jo’s Shack, what can I get you?” leaving her pretty pink lips.

Daisy was almost in shock, seeing the ghoul standing in her doorway. She had assumed the worst over the years, as his visits had become less and less until they were not at all. She figured he was dead, shriveled up and baking in the sun. Or worse, she worried he had gone feral, which was always going to be inevitable in his case. Either way, she would keep extra chems stocked for the day he returned.

Cooper strolled towards the counter and looked at the girl, recognizing those big brown eyes from a mile away. “Hey, little flower. Your daddy around?” He asked her, his eyes flickering down to look at the pearl around her neck. Huh, he didn’t know she’d have kept it all those years. Pretty things were hard to keep around these parts.

Daisy’s face broke out into a grin and she gave him a little nod, leaning forward to get a good look at him. “Sure is, I’ll go get him for you. he’s not gonna believe this.” She had to fight to maintain her composure and keep her excitement at bay, going through the back room and up the stairs to the second floor of the shack to where her father was sleeping. In the ghoul’s absence, Daisy had grown to be a respectable trader, taking over the face of her father’s shop after growing up learning from the best. Although the population was tougher, she was just as tough, and nobody dared to fuck with Jo’s Shack or the woman running the place.

She stepped back out to the main room and leaned against the newly-reinforced counter, a bright smile on her face as she gazed up at him. He was just as handsome as she remembered, though she was never truly able to capture how his eyes lit up at the sight of her.

“Flower, you are just as pretty as a peach.” Cooper flashed her a wide grin, unashamedly flirting with the girl who he had essentially watched grow up. And whew, did she grow up good. He couldn’t help himself as he let his sunken eyes roam over the smooth, exposed skin of her chest, the tank top she wore under her unzipped jacket left little to the imagination.

Daisy thought his southern drawl was absolutely intoxicating as she slid a little box of chem vials across the counter to him, “Thank you, Coop. Don’t tell dad I gave these to you.” She winked and leaned back as her dad came out to greet his old friend, letting the two men greet each other like they hadn’t spent any time apart.

“Cooper Howard, you son of a bitch! I hope you brought me that Brahmin you still owe me.” Josiah grinned as he pulled the ghoul in for a hug, giving him shit over some long-forgotten wager on a card game. Coop patted him on the back with a shit-eating grin, “Yessir, why, yo’ momma’s waitin’ outside!”

Daisy watched Cooper closely as she stood beside her dad, taking in the way his skin had started to redden in places she didn’t remember being scarred over before. She had spent her whole adolescence infatuated with him, playing it off as a silly little girl crush on a big strong man (who had killed for her, but that’s a story for another day.) Her pulse quickened as she overhead her father invite the ghoul inside for a drink and to rest, watching him come around the counter to push through the curtains leading to the back.

It was fucked up, Cooper knew that. He knew it was fucked up to already be thinking about the woman behind him. Thinking about how sweet she sounded when she said his name, thinking about that little pearl necklace dangling in his face as she skillfully sat atop his—

He really needed that drink, and maybe a puff of his inhaler before he went feral at the thought of something as soft and pretty as his Daisy having anything to do with something as scarred and distorted as him.

a/n: okay yall what do we think about part one? I got to the app to post it and immediately rewrote the ending because I hated the original, so I hope this was good!

taglist: @savanahc @one-of-thewalkingdead @silverose365 @neverendingdumptser

#the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x oc #the ghoul fanfiction #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard x oc #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #fallout imagine #cooper howard smut #teehee #trader’s daughter

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h00nerz · 9 months

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cruel summer!

“i love you, ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?”

masterlist | moodboard | playlist

paring: choi yeonjun x fem!reader

genre: summer romance/fling, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, fluff, angst

word count: 30k

warnings: profanity, suggestive content, cheating, divorce, implications of sex but no smut, alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking weed i think, that’s it afaik

summary: following a painful divorce from your father, your mother is desperate to escape from reality. it turns out, the best way to do that is to visit your childhood vacation spot you hadn’t been to in nearly a decade. you’re reunited with your old friend, choi yeonjun, who has grown from some annoying, scrawny kid into a handsome, charming man. when yeonjun sets his sights on you, it’s practically impossible to resist his charm. the only issue is summer can’t last forever, and neither can your romance.

authors note: this fic is literally six months in the making so i am beyond enthused i’m finally able to post it! this is truly a massive fic i am so so sorry but i hope you’ll enjoy reading it!! thanks to everyone who’s supported my adventure writing this thing, especially linny and sav!

IT WAS INCREDIBLE TO YOU HOW all it took was one little choice to completely alter the course of someone’s life. When you were eleven, you’d opted for a different way to walk home from school, and just happened to pass by a ballet studio where a group of dancers were practicing. From that moment on, you’d become infatuated with dance, convincing your parents to let you enroll in a studio and beginning your own career as a dancer. When you were seventeen, you chose not to go to school one day just because you didn’t feel like it, and the bus you usually took had gotten into a bad wreck that morning.

Most notable, though, was when you were twenty-one, when your dad had made the choice to sleep with your family’s housekeeper, and your mom chose to come home from her business trip a day early to surprise the family. Those two choices led to your mother catching your father in the act, and then to her retaining an attorney to draft up divorce papers. Before you even had a moment to stop and process everything that was going on, your parents were split up, and your dad disappeared without so much as a goodbye.

You expected for your mom to be more upset. After all, her husband of 25 years had just thrown away the trust they’d spend so long to build away like it was nothing, but she wasn’t. Her focus remained on her work, the same as it always had. Work was always something very important to your mother, even since you were just a little girl. Consequently, she wasn’t home very much when you were growing up, which you thought you were fine with at the time. It wasn’t until you were older you reflected back on your childhood and how it affected you. At some point, you wondered if it was part of the reason your parents’ marriage ended the way you did, but you knew it was still your dad’s fault at the end of the day.

You never suspected anything to be wrong with her until she randomly suggested the two of you go spend the summer at your old family beach house together. There was no reason she would have proposed taking an entire three months away from her work--alone with you, nonetheless--unless she was searching for some kind of distraction from all of the events that had transpired in the earlier months.

It had been nearly a decade since the last time you visited your old beach house. You had gone nearly every summer of your childhood there, spending the long hours of the summer days building sand castles and swimming with the friends you had made while you were there. Then, when the sun was starting to set, you would wander around town with your parents, getting dinner together and then some ice cream that you would eat while you pointed out different constellations in the stars. You had amazing memories associated with the little beach town, but that's all they were. Memories.

You were now finishing up your junior year of college, and those three months of summer were the last you’d have before you started your senior year, and prepared for graduating. So, truthfully, spending an entire summer in some rinky-dink town alone with your mother did not sound too enticing. However, you knew she was going through a difficult time, and frankly so were you. You convinced yourself that this bonding experience was exactly what the two of you needed, and even though you would rather stay in your hometown and have some fun with your friends before being thrust into the real world, you decided to go.

The little beachside town was exactly how you remembered it. Warm, friendly, and full of life. Everywhere you looked, there were people out and about, taking advantage of the city sidewalks and the nice weather to get to where they needed to go. It was a beautiful little town, and even though you hadn’t really wanted to go in the first place, you found yourself reveling in the familiar feeling. You even caught sight of the little ice cream stall on main street your family always went to in the past. A thick wave of nostalgia washed over you, and suddenly you felt like a little girl all over again. But when you looked to your left, the sight of your mother driving the car and not your father grounded you to the reality of your situation.

“Aw, look, Y/N? Remember that store? You would always pick something out to bring home.” Your mother laughed as you cruised down main street, and you peered out the window to see the little souvenir shop you always visited while you were in town. Instinctively, your fingers leapt to your neck, toying with the shell necklace you chose to wear for your trip.

“And there! Isn’t that where your little friend used to live?” She looked the most excited you’d seen her in awhile as she scanned the buildings you passed by. It made you feel better about your decision to agree to this trip.

“You mean Jisu?” You asked, tilting your head to get a better look at the house. Jisu’s family actually lived in the town, and she was one of the friends you had made when you were younger. You never really kept in touch with her outside of your time spent together, so you had no idea what she was up to these days. You weren’t even sure her family still lived in town.

“Yes, Jisu! Oh, the Chois were such a lovely family, we should stop by and see if they’re still around, maybe we could even ask them to dinner.”

She continued to point out random landmarks and recall old memories as you drove through the little town, but at some point you had drowned her out. You instead took in the surroundings for yourself, letting your own memories play out in your head. You, Jisu and your other friend Chaeryeong would ride your bikes around the town and use the money your parents gave you to get giant snow cones together. It was crazy to think that you once considered those girls to be your closest friends in the whole world, now you could barely remember what they looked like.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of your mother blabbing on about all the things your family used to do, and all the things she wanted to do now, you reached your old beach house. As soon as you saw it, you were reminded of all your childhood memories of that little house. Playing board games in the sun room, sitting on the porch and watching the sun dip down below the waves, eating waffles for breakfast every morning…

“Y/N, come on, your bags.” Your mother’s voice interrupted your little slideshow of memories playing in your brain. You would have more time to reminisce later.

A COUPLE OF HOURS AFTER YOUR ARRIVAL, most of your belongings were unpacked, and you were ready for dinner. Unfortunately for you, though, your mother was not ready, since she had apparently decided to bring her entire closet on the trip and had barely made it halfway through unpacking by the time you were finished. More fortunate, however, she told you to just go pick up dinner for the both of you from a local restaurant while she worked, so you wouldn’t have to sit around and wait for her.

Jake’s was an old burger shop that was very popular amongst the town, and for good reason, too. Their cheeseburgers were some of the best you’d ever come across during your twenty plus years on earth, and you were very excited to finally have one again after all these years. You hoped they still held up. As soon as you walked through the door, the aroma of all the different foods filled your nose, and another thick wave of nostalgia hit you like a truck. You were immediately reminded of the nights your family spent in a booth there, your mother and dad talking about whatever nonsense while you contently sipped on your milkshake that was nearly twice the size that you were.

You had already called in the order before leaving, so all you had to do now was sit and wait for them to be ready with your food. Two double cheeseburgers, two medium fries, a large chocolate milkshake and a large strawberry milkshake. The thought of getting to drink one of those milkshakes after all these years made your mouth water.

“Y/N?” You heard a voice call out, and whipped around to face the direction it had come from. At first you thought it was your food being done, but instead it was a familiar face you hadn’t seen in years.

“Jisu! Hi!” You greeted your old friend, holding your arms out to envelop her in a warm hug. The interaction felt somehow foreign and familiar at the same time, but mostly the latter.

“Wow! It’s been, what, nine years since we last saw each other?” She asked after pulling away from the hug, her hands still rested on your forearms.

“Something like that.” You laughed softly, taking a moment to really take in how much she had changed over the years. She obviously looked completely different, since she was a grown woman now, but she also looked exactly the same. “You still live here?”

She nodded, looking you up and down as she did the same thing you did. “Yep. I mean, I go to college out of town so I’m gone during the school year, but I always come back home when I get the chance.” She smiled fondly at you, and she had the kind of smile that made you feel all warm and fuzzy all over just at the sight of it. “What about you?”

The two of you continued to chat, catching one another up on the basics of how things had gone over the last nine years. It turned out both she and Chaeryeong’s families still lived in the area, and the two were still very close friends. She even suggested the three of you get together sometime soon, for old time’s sake. You filled her in on how you were also attending school, and still did dance as a hobby to keep you busy. You chose to leave out the part of your life where your dad cheated with the housekeeper that was only a few years older than you, and the part where your parents got a divorce. It wasn’t something you were quite ready to tell people about, not even Jisu.

You were interrupted by your name being called, which meant your food was finally ready.

“Well, I guess we should probably head back to our own places before our food gets cold, right?” Jisu suggested, clutching her own bag of food between her hands.

“Probably. I think my mom will kill me if I let her shake melt.” You replied, which earned a laugh out of Jisu.

“Hey, um, a few of my friends are having a big bonfire party on the beach tomorrow night, you should come.” She told you as you both exited the small restaurant, an invitation that made your heart flip. You suddenly felt horrible for never keeping in contact with her, because she was much sweeter than any of your friends at home. You had been in town less than twenty four hours, and she was already inviting you to spend time with her.

“Really?” You asked her, raising your eyebrows. “Yeah, I would love to come!”

“Really?” She echoed, eyes widening as if you had just told her you would give her a thousand dollars. “That’s great! I’ll let them know you’re coming, I’m sure most of them will love to see you again!” She spoke giddily, nearly leaping out of her own skin from excitement.

You bid each other goodbye, and then went your separate ways. The entire walk back to the house, you couldn’t hide your happiness no matter how hard you tried. Maybe, just maybe, this trip wasn't going to be as bad as you had anticipated. You shouldn’t have spoken so soon, though, as you still had three months to go.

FOR THE LIFE OF YOU, you could not figure out why this party was making you so nervous. You’d spent nearly an hour in your closet, digging through your clothes and throwing them around so by the time you’d finally settled on something, your floor had disappeared under a sea of clothes. Maybe it was because you were going to be here for three months, and if you didn’t make friends now, you were going to spend all that time alone with no one except your own mother, who would surely drive you insane.

At first, you felt a bit guilty about leaving her home alone all night, but luckily for you, she had found some old friends of her own to go out with. And now, here you were, standing on the sidewalk and staring down at the beach where the fire was already going, and a lot more than a few friends had gathered to party. You were trying to find Jisu amidst the crowd of people, so you could easily approach her first, but you were having a difficult time locating her in the darkness. And you probably looked like an idiot, just standing there and waiting for something, but you would rather do that than have to go down there alone.

It had been a long time since you’d been to a proper party. Sure, you had lots of friends of your own back in the city, but most of them were too school oriented to ever attend parties, and you were afraid of going to one without at least one of your friends. So, you were definitely afraid now.

“Yeri!” You heard a voice behind you shout, and nearly jumped out of your own skin when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You flipped around to see some guy you’d never met before standing behind you, a panicked look on his face as he held up his hands in surrender. “Oh, sorry. Definitely not Yeri.”

“No, not Yeri.” You laughed nervously, reaching up to protectively hold your shoulders.

“Hmm, I don’t think we’ve met before? If you’re not Yeri, who are you?” He asked inquisitively, taking a step closer to you as you tried to turn away from him.

“Oh, my name is Y/N.” You replied, your cheeks warming at how close he was standing next to you. In the darkness of the night, you couldn’t quite make out his face, but guessing by the few features that were illuminated by the glow of the bonfire, you could guess he was quite handsome. The realization suddenly made you even more nervous.

“Y/N? Like Y/N L/N?” You glanced over at him to see him gaping at you in surprise, and furrowed your eyebrows together.

“Uh, yeah? Why?”

He laughed softly. “So, you don’t recognize me?” He rose an eyebrow at you, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. You could barely see his face, how were you supposed to recognize him?

“No… Should I?” You queried, tilting your head to the side as if it would give you a better view of his face.

“I don’t know… Does Crab Castle ring a bell?” And ring a bell it did. Those two words immediately gave you flashbacks to one summer you’d been in town, and one of Jisu’s cousins had come to visit as well. He and you had been building sand castles on the same beach, when you first ran into each other, and at first you had decided he was your rival. You tried everything in your power to sabotage his castles, and he destroyed your’s. But, another kid had showed up on the same beach, and his castles were much more intricate and sophisticated than either of yours’. So, you proposed the two of you teamed up to make the best castle that beach had ever seen.

That was how Crab Castle was born, the sand castle that you had, at the time, thought was the greatest sand castle ever to be built. It had multiple towers, and archways, and you even made your own custom crab emblem to decorate the castle. It took you from sunrise until sunset to build it, and before you were dragged home by your parents, you decided to destroy it together, which had honestly been way more fun than your time spent building it up.

Your eyes went wide.

“Yeonjun?!” You laughed in disbelief, taking a step back to get a better look at him. Compared to the weird little boy you had competed with on the beach ten years ago, he was a completely different person. A taller, more muscular, and definitely more good-looking person. You couldn’t believe it was Yeonjun standing in front of you. “Holy shit, you look…”

“Taller? Hotter? More muscular?” He grinned, raising one of his arms to flex his biceps, but you hurriedly smacked his arm before he could.

“Don’t do that, weirdo.” You wrinkled your nose, and he laughed at that. “What are you doing here? I thought you lived in the city?”

He shrugged. “My friends and I wanted to do something fun this summer, have an adventure, I guess, and I thought it would be a good idea to come spend time down here.” His gaze shifted over to the bonfire, where you assumed these friends he was talking about were hanging out. “What about you? You guys haven’t been down here in forever. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“My mom wanted to take a girls trip, just the two of us.” You told him.“And since I’m graduating next year, I thought it would be good to have one last adventure before I have to get a real job.”

He nodded slowly, and you watched as he looked you up and down slowly, as if he was taking all of you in. “Cool, cool… So you’re here all summer then?”

“Yeah.” You answered, and began to chew the inside of your cheek. “You?”

“Yeah.” He echoed, and you felt your heart begin to race. An entire three months in the same town as Yeonjun, a boy you hadn’t thought about in half a decade, but a boy who had grown into a very, very attractive man. “We’ll have to hang out sometime. Outside of a party, I mean.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh, sure. If I have the time.” You blink at him, completely aware of how stupid you must sound. But he didn’t seem to mind, instead letting out a little laugh at your comment.

“Well, try to pencil me in your busy schedule, okay?” He smiled at you, a smile that made your heart flutter. Jeez, you couldn’t believe how tremendously down bad you already were, after spending less than ten minutes with him. This definitely wasn’t normal for you.

He started to walk away, as if that was the end of the conversation, but you quickly panicked. “Wait! Do you know where Jisu is? She invited me, and I should probably go and talk to her.”

Graciously, Yeonjun led you down to the party, letting you trail behind him like some kind of lost puppy looking for its owner. Once you were down by the actual fire, the party felt a lot smaller, like there weren’t nearly as many people as you thought. Or maybe it was just because you were so focused on Yeonjun, you barely noticed the other people around you. Either way, your nerves were starting to feel much more at ease than before.

“Ahh! Y/N!” Jisu greeted you once Yeonjun had finally delivered you to your old friend, and she threw her arms around your neck to pull you in for a tight hug. You could smell the cheap beer on her breath, giggling to yourself at how tipsy she already was. “Look, Chaer! It’s Y/N!”

She pulled away from you to let you get a good look at your other old friend, Chaeryeong, who had that same phenomenon of looking completely different yet exactly the same. She greeted you with a hug as well, cooing about how good it was to see you. As she hugged you, you glanced over at Yeonjun, who was watching the whole interaction, and mouthed a silent “thank you”. He gave you a salute before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

“Were you just with Yeonjun?” Jisu asked, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, we ran into each other on the way in. I barely even recognized him.” You explained to her, letting out a little laugh as you spoke. You expected her to laugh, too, but instead her suspicious eyes narrowed.

“He’s hot, right?” Chaeryeong giggled, leaning onto your shoulder as though you were the best of friends. Your cheeks heated up at the comment, as you frantically began to shake your head.

“Nononono, that’s not what I meant! It’s just crazy how much people can change in ten years, isn’t it? One day, they’re a little kid throwing sand in your eyes, and the next they’re, like, a mature adult.”

Jisu snorted. “He is not mature. You should have heard him whining yesterday when his friends were making fun of him for liking mint chocolate chip ice creams. He’s more like a baby than a grown adult.” She told you, then took a long sip of her drink. “Anyway, you should be careful around him. My aunt says he’s dated, like, six girls in the last year. He’s a whore.” She said, and Chaeryeong nodded in agreement.

“Mhm! Guys like him, Y/N, they only want one--” she leaned forward and wagged a singular finger in your face. “--one thing!” She warned you, and although you believed her, it was hard to take her seriously with how obviously out of it she was.

“Okay, I think I get it.” You laughed nervously, holding your hands up in defense. “No talking to Yeonjun. I’ll just hang out with you guys instead.”

They seemed to like the sound of that idea, letting out loud cheers and pulling you in for another hug. “It’s so nice to have you back, Y/N! Hey, tomorrow, we should go get snow cones! Just like old times!” Jisu sang. “But, first, let’s get you something to drink!”

THE NEXT MORNING YOU WOKE UP with a throbbing headache. You weren’t sure how much you drank the night before--actually, you weren’t sure of anything from the night before. Your memory was foggy, leaving very little that you could actually recall.

You can remember trying to shotgun one of your cans of beer (you can’t remember if you were actually able to do it or not), and you remember telling Chaeryeong and Jisu all about your first boyfriend, and then you remember being wet. You don’t remember why you were wet, or rather how you got wet, you just remember being wet.

You were barely given any time to adjust to the sunlight that was currently flooding the entirety of your bedroom when your mother was suddenly opening your door, the sound of her voice causing you to groan out in pain.

“Y/N, I need you to pick us up some breakfast.” She told you flatly, and you slammed your pillow down over your own head to try and muffle her.

“Why can’t you?” You asked, dragging out the last vowel. You said a silent prayer that someone would strike her down so she would stop talking to you. But also that they would do it in a quiet way as to spare your already sensitive skull.

“Because, I’m busy. Besides, you can pick yourself up some coffee, it’ll help with your hangover.”

You rolled your eyes. “I am not hungover. It’s just allergies.” You lied, though you weren’t totally sure why you even bothered when you knew that she knew exactly what was wrong with you. “But fine. Give me a few minutes.”

With your surrender, she made a small “hmph” and closed your door, finally leaving you alone. Getting up, going outside, walking around and talking to people was your absolute worst nightmare at the moment, but you knew your mother. If she wanted you to do something, she wouldn’t leave you alone until you did it. She was stubborn, in that way, determined to get exactly what she wanted.

So, despite your body screaming at you to go curl up under your covers and die, you forced yourself off of your bed and pulled on the first clothes you could find--your old Stranger Things t-shirt your cousin had gotten you for your fifteenth birthday, and a pair of sweat shorts. To complete the look, you threw on the singular pair of sunglasses you owned--which were big, red, heart shaped ones. Personally, you thought it was the peak of fashion.

Even under your sunglasses, you were attacked by the outside light when you stepped outside. You half contemplated crawling under the porch to sleep there, since even that would be more bearable than this, but your mother would probably burn you alive if you did that. And as badly as you already wanted to die at the moment, you would prefer it if it wasn’t by your mother’s hand.

And just when it seemed like your morning couldn’t get any worse, it did.

“Y/N?” Oh no.

You were stopped in the middle of the sidewalk by the sound of your name. Reluctantly you turned around, filled with dread when you saw none other than Yeonjun standing behind you, observing you with an amused expression. Now you were praying it was you who would be struck down.

Yeonjun, the man you had once been enemies with, who was now extremely attractive. Yeonjun, who you were not supposed to talk to. That Yeonjun was staring at you, a smile tugging on his lips as he looked you up and down to get a good look at your current state.

“Jeez, how much did you drink last night?” He laughed, and last night you probably would have enjoyed the sound of his laughter, but now it made you want to throw up.

“I don’t know. Too much. My memory is all clouded up, you know.” You responded, raising your hand to protect your eyes from the sun like a visor.

Now that it was daytime, you were finally able to get a good look at him. You already knew he was pretty, after seeing him last night, but you didn’t really get to see how pretty he was. His dark hair was grown out into a mullet, which wasn’t always the best look, but he pulled it off like no other. He was wearing a tank top that let you get a good look at his sun-kissed skin, which was perfectly smooth like he had been airbrushed or something. He looked like how you would have imagined one of the Greek Gods to look like.

And then it hit you. He looked too perfect, especially for a morning after a party. And especially when your friends had basically told you he was the kind of guy to party hard and take a new girl home every weekend. “Why aren’t you dying? I thought you were some kind of party boy now.”

He cocked an eyebrow at that, like he’d never been called that before. “Party boy? Who told you that?”

“Jisu and Chaeryeong.” You shrugged.

He hummed in response, looking a little less amused than before and instead a little bit more annoyed. “You know, you really shouldn’t listen to everything they tell you. Especially when they’re drunk. Chaer likes to lie for fun.” He informed you, though you weren’t all too convinced he was right about that.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” And with that, you were just going to leave, since you were way too hungover to even be having this conversation in the first place, but then that led you to think of the cause of your hangover, and the panic that you had done something stupid the night before rammed into you full force. “Um… Did I do anything… Embarrassing last night?”

“If you count convincing yourself you were on fire and running into the water at full speed while screaming at the top of your lungs as embarrassing, then no, you’re good.” A teasing grin appeared on his lips, and you could feel the color drain from your face.

“Oh. So that’s why I remember being wet.” You realized, mentally slapping your forehead over and over again. “God, I think I have no choice but to steal my mom’s car and leave the country. I think that’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard.” You groaned loudly.

“Hey, hey, relax, it really wasn’t that bad. It was kind of cute, honestly.”

You gave him a deadpanned look. “Don’t lie.” Feeling way too embarrassed by that point, you were ready to go back to picking up your breakfast and trying your best to never be seen again, but you could hear him jogging up behind you as you started to walk away.

“Where are you going, anyway? Can I walk with you?” He asked, slowing to a steady pace once he reached your side.

“Um, I’m supposed to pick up waffles for my mom and I. And coffee. She said that I need a coffee.” You informed him. If your head had been hurting you a little less, you might have noticed how close he was to you, and how your fingertips were barely centimeters away from one another. And the realization would have made you nervous. Good thing you were hungover, then.

“What a coincidence! I’m supposed to get coffee, too.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, although he wouldn’t be able to see due to your glasses. “You’re getting coffee, too? What about your friends? Shouldn’t you be out with them, or something?”

“Well, ‘Gyu might be in worse condition than you are, and Wooyoung is still asleep, so I thought I’d go get us some coffee before they wake up.” He explained to you, glancing over at you with that same, stupid smile.

“Aw. You’re so thoughtful.” You cooed at him, to which he playfully rolled his eyes. “Will you get me my coffee, too?”

He shook his head. “Nah, not today. Another day, when you’re not all messed up, I’ll buy you some.”

“Why does it have to be when I’m not messed up?” You queried, faking a dramatic pout.

“Because…” He stopped in front of you, then leaned down so his face was closer to yours--much closer. The proximity made your heart start to hammer against your chest. “It wouldn’t be a very good date if you had a god awful headache the whole time, would it?” He spoke lowly, in a half-teasing, half-sultry tone that made your heart go crazy.

His fingers reached out to gently brush against your skin, the contact setting your skin ablaze, and you thought he would tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear like some kind of romcom. But, he instead tapped the edge of your sunglasses. “Cute glasses, by the way. They suit you.” He straightened back up, then started walking as if nothing had happened.

You stood, completely dumbfounded as you watched him walk along the sidewalk, beaming with pride because you knew that he knew that he’d already started to have an effect on you, only hours after being reunited. You hated the stupid, cocky smirk he wore on his lips, and you hated the playful raise of his eyebrows as he turned back to look at you with those stupid, perfect eyes you also hated.

“Come on, slow poke. Let’s go get some coffee.”

YOU KNEW IT WAS WRONG, you knew Jisu was going to be upset at you, but you couldn’t help it. For the next week, you could not stop thinking about Yeonjun. You couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt when his face got all close to yours, and how all of his features looked up close. His dark, intimidating yet inviting eyes. His plump, very kissable looking lips. You couldn’t stop thinking about the way his fingertips dragged against your cheek, and the electric feeling of his skin against yours. You had spent an embarrassing amount of time imagining what it would feel like if he brushed his skin against other parts of your body.

It had only taken twenty-four hours for Choi Yeonjun to infect you. You thought it couldn’t get much worse--you were wrong.

Your mom suggested a day of lounging at the beach--pulling up a couple of lounge chairs, an umbrella for shade, and a book for each of you to read. It sounded like a perfect day to you, so you agreed. So long as you got to get some ice cream to cool you down while you were out there, because lord knew it was going to get hot.

“Have you been having a good time?” Your mother asked as you played with the corner of the page you were reading, dragging your attention away from the book. You glanced over at her through your sunglasses (not the heart-shaped ones, after your horrible walk of shame, you bought a new pair), closing your book and resting it on your lap.

“Yeah, I have. It’s nice to be back here, to see everyone again.” You smiled at her, and she smiled as well.

“Good. See? I told you this trip would be good for us.” She told you matter-of-factly, pointing her own book at you for emphasis. “There’s just something about a small town like this, and getting away from everything… It’s rejuvenating.” She let out a long sigh, and you rolled your eyes at her dramatics.

“Well, I guess you could call it that.” You agreed with her. You thought the conversation would end there, and you could go back to reading your book, but she wasn’t ready to stop talking to you yet.

“So, you’ve been hanging out with Jisu and Chaeryeong a lot? It’s nice to see the three of you together, after all these years.”

You nodded. “It is nice. I feel bad for not staying in contact, I feel like we missed out on years of potential friendship.” You confessed. Truthfully, you were already enjoying the last week with the two girls more than the last few years with your other friends. Sure, your friends back home were nice, but you had never clicked with them the same way you were clicking with Jisu and Chaeryeong. You hoped that when you left at the end of the summer, you’d be able to keep up with them unlike in the past.

“Aw.” She clicked her tongue, glancing away from you. “That’s great. We really need to go have dinner with the Chois. You know, I saw Jiwoo--You know, Jisu’s mother--at the store a few days ago--” She was cut off by her phone ringing, and you watched as she picked it up and walked away, saying a silent thank you now you would have some peace and quiet.

At least that’s what you were hoping for. But, of course, that was too much to ask for.

A volleyball bounced across the sand in front of you, and unsurprisingly, it was followed by a group of guys chasing after it. And just your luck, one of the guys happened to be none other than Choi Yeonjun.

You gulped, quickly lifting your book and opening it up in an attempt to hide your face from his view. Since your last run in with him, you had been avoiding him to the best of your ability. Mostly because the more time you spent around him, the more your feelings seemed to grow, and the more guilty you felt.

The first night Jisu had warned you about him, she had been extremely drunk, so you had considered just ignoring her, since there was a chance she didn’t really mean it. But, a day after you’d gotten coffee with him, you had hung out with her and Chaeryeong, and told them all about what happened. She was completely sober when she warned you a second time, telling you she was just looking out for you, so you decided that meant she was serious, and that you wanted absolutely nothing to do with Choi Yeonjun!

“Sorry!” One of them yelled at you, and you barely lowered your book to see it was the one with the shaggy hair. He made eye contact with you, and suddenly his entire demeanor changed. Instead of cowering down, like he was scared you would yell at him, he straightened up, holding the ball under his arm and you swore you saw him flex his muscles.

“It’s fine.” You quipped, praying Yeonjun wouldn’t hear you. Thankfully, he looked too busy cursing out his other friend for throwing the ball out of bounds.

The shaggy haired boy ignored his friends, his eyes remaining on you. “The Summer I Turned Pretty? Is that any good?” He asked, and at first you thought he was spewing nonsense, then you realized he was talking about the book glued to the front of your face.

If you weren’t so worried about his stupid friend noticing you, you might have actually tried to have a conversation with him. He was good looking, and seemed friendly, but you were trying to get them to go away as soon as they could, so you just gave a short nod, hoping he would take the hint and go away.

“Sorry again.” He apologized, flashing you a pearly white grin, and he started to walk away. You let out a soft sigh of relief. You had officially avoided conversation with Yeonjun, and could return to actually reading.

“Oh, hey, Y/N!”

Never mind.

You finally put your book down, since your cover had obviously been blown already. Yeonjun had spotted you, and was flashing you that same, stupid, confident grin you hated (read: loved). You reluctantly raised your hand to wave at him, giving him the best smile you could muster up. “Hi, Yeonjun.” You replied.

“Oh, Y/N! You’re the girl who thought she was on fire! I knew you looked familiar!” The shaggy hair boy announced, your cheeks becoming set ablaze at the realization that was what you were known for now.

“Yes, that was me.” You managed to get out through a pained smile.

“Dude, that was hilarious! I’ve never seen someone more scared for their life over nothing!” Yeonjun’s other friend began to laugh, and you frowned as the other two joined in. Not in the mood for their mockery, you looked down to the pages of your book, trying your hardest to drown out their hyena-like laughter.

Yeonjun noticed your annoyance, and quickly stopped laughing, clearing his throat. “Hey, she’s also one of the greatest sand castle builders in the whole country.” He pointed out to his friends. The compliment that called all the way back to your childhood caused your cheeks to heat up again, but this time it was more out of flattery than embarrassment.

“It’s true. Better than him.” You informed his friends, gesturing towards him with your head.

The shaggy haired one shrugged. “Yeah, I believe it. I’m Beomgyu, by the way.” He approached you, holding out his hand to shake, which you gladly did.

“I’m Wooyoung!” The other friend interrupted, pushing Beomgyu out of the way to have his turn shaking your hand.

Yeonjun was watching his friends smothering you, his eyes narrowed and arms crossed. “Okay, okay, she doesn’t want to know you guys, she doesn’t care.” He told them, rolling his eyes when Beomgyu shook your hand again. “Have you been sick or something? It’s been a week since I saw you.” He changed the subject, much to your dismay.

“No…” You responded.

“Weird. I guess we’ve just been missing each other all week.” He shrugged.

“She’s probably been avoiding you because she can tell you’re a fucking loser.” Wooyoung said matter-of-factly, and Beomgyu laughed in agreement.

Yeonjun rolled his eyes at their immature comments, but chose to ignore them. “I think I still owe you some coffee, you know.” He told you, and bumped the edge of your chair with his food. “Maybe you should give me your number. Then I won’t have to worry about trying to track you down.”

Your eyes widened, and Beomgyu started to cough loudly. You weren’t sure how you were supposed to get out of this one. You could try to lie and say you lost your phone, or give him a fake number, but as soon as he realized it was wrong, he would probably get mad. Maybe he would get so angry he would decide “if I can’t have her, no one can!” and murder you in your sleep. That was probably not going to happen, but you could never be sure these days! Right?

You were frozen in your beach chair, and the longer it took for you to form some kind of a response, the more awkward things were becoming. You began to regret every little decision that had led you to this moment--from you deciding to join your mother for a day at the beach all the way back to letting Yeonjun build that stupid sand castle with you in the first place.

And then, like some kind of miracle sent down from God herself, you were saved. Although, you weren’t sure if you could call it saving, since you had a feeling it was only going to make the entire interaction so much worse.

Appearing out of seemingly nowhere, Jisu and Chaeryeong stood beside your chair, arms folded and eyes narrowed at the boys.

“Oh, hey, Jisu.” Beomgyu was first to break the painfully long silence, and the sound of someone speaking again after so long caught you so off guard you nearly jumped. “And Chaer.”

“Hi.” Jisu greeted, then risked a glance down at you. “What’re you guys up to? I thought you were playing volleyball or something?”

“We were, but then Beomgyu almost hit her with the ball.” Wooyoung explained, gesturing over towards you. Beomgyu rolled his eyes, but made no effort to dispute Wooyoung’s words.

“I thought you were here with your mom?” Jisu asked, recalling your text messages from earlier in the morning.

“Yeah, I was. Am. She just got up to take a call.” You explained, feeling a bit like a little kid getting caught red handed, even though you really hadn’t done anything wrong. “Then Yeonjun and his friends decided to come say hi.”

Jisu nodded slowly.

“Yeah, we were keeping her company while she was alone. Anything can happen to a pretty girl sitting out on the beach alone.” Yeonjun said, and you hated the way your cheeks heated up because of his stupid words.

“Hey!” Jisu was quick to scold. “Stop flirting with my friends, weirdo!” She snapped, jabbing her finger in his face.

He held his hands up in defense, taking a step back to avoid his eyes being poked out by her fingertips. “I wasn’t flirting with her! I was just being honest! She’s a pretty girl!” He attempted to defend himself, but that just seemed to bother Jisu even more.

“Stop it!” She told him again, and Wooyoung began to giggle.

“You look like an angry little chihuahua. So cute.” He teased her, and you thought she might have really smacked him across his amused face if it wasn’t for Chaeryeong putting her hands on her shoulders in an attempt to relax her.

You felt like maybe it was time you stepped in, and stood up, joining Chaeryeong in trying to calm down your friend. “It’s fine, Ji. They’re just stupid boys, ignore them.” You told her, then shot Yeonjun a glare. He tilted his head at you, like he couldn’t figure out why you might be annoyed at him.

Stupid boys indeed.

“Ouch!” Beomgyu gasped at your words, feigning hurt and clinging onto his chest. “Your words hurt Y/N, they really do.”

“Go back to your stupid volleyball and leave us alone.” Jisu groaned, wrapping her hand under your arm to cling onto you. “You guys are so annoying!”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. “Fine. Can I at least get that phone number before I leave?” Yeonjun asked, a grin creeping onto his perfect lips.

“No!” Chaeryeong and Jisu shot back in unison, making a swatting motion with their hands to tell them to get away. Finally, Wooyoung and Beomgyu began to slowly back away--Beomgyu was still acting like he was bleeding out of his chest or something. Yeonjun lingered, though, letting out a deep exhale.

“What was it that Romeo said? Parting is such sweet sorry’s, or whatever?” He sighed, and placed a hand over his heart. “I’m gonna get that phone number, though. I swear, just wait and see!” And with that, he gave you a wink, then rushed away after his friends before Jisu got the chance to curse him out again.

You stood quietly for a minute, mulling over his words. You felt like there was a not-so-thinly veiled threat hiding in his words. With an uneasy sigh, you glanced over at Jisu, who had her eyebrows furrowed closely, and her lips pressed together into a frown, like she was thinking about his words as well. Chaeryeong’s gaze flickered between the two of you, as she was obviously awaiting some sort of acknowledgment of what happened.

But the acknowledgement never came. Maybe Jisu had finally given up on trying to keep you away from Yeonjun, because she didn’t say anything about it. Instead, she gave you a quick hug, promising that she would see you later, before taking Chaeryeong and disappearing back to whatever they had done before.

You wished she had been more insistent. You wished you had listened to her from the beginning.

FOR WHAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A RELAXING Summer getaway for you and your mother, you sure were having a difficult time destressing. You’d been trying to sleep for at least the last hour, tossing and turning under your sheets. The millions of thoughts running rampant in your mind were what were preventing you from getting any sleep, and no matter how hard you tried, you weren’t able to put any of them to rest. The longer you laid there, feeling absolutely exhausted but unable to shut your mind down long enough to sleep, the worse your annoyance became.

At some point, you’d finally had enough. With a frustrated groan, you threw your bedsheets off of you, and swung your legs over the side of the bed. You sat for a minute, rubbing your eyes in an attempt to get them to accept you weren’t going to sleep, then finally pushed yourself to stand up. You wandered over to the large window at the edge of the bedroom, and slid it open enough you could feel the cool ocean breeze against your face.

Finally, you were beginning to feel that relaxation you’d been longing for. With the air against your skin, and the sound of the waves rolling against the beach out in the distance, you felt your thoughts begin to dissipate. You weren’t thinking about your dad, or Jisu, or your senior year waiting for you back home, or Yeonjun, in fact you weren’t thinking about anything at all. Except, maybe, about how much you wished your bed was closer to the window.

Whack!

You were completely startled when you felt something tiny collide with your cheek, and you let out a quiet curse. Once again, you found yourself annoyed that these windows didn’t have any screens on them to protect you. Cautiously, you poked your head out the window in hopes of finding the source of whatever had hit you.

You apparently weren’t cautious enough, though, as another tiny object hit your face once again. “Ow, what the fuck!” You shouted, reaching up to rub your forehead, and then you spotted it--the source.

Standing on the lawn outside your house, with a handful of what you assumed to be pebbles, was none other than Choi Yeonjun, whose grin quickly turned into a grimace when he noticed you finally see him.

“Shit, did I hit you? I didn’t mean to!” He called up to you in a whisper shout.

You stared down at him, and you swore you could feel your eye twitch as your annoyance doubled. “What the hell are you doing here?” You whisper-shouted back to him, leaning forward so your upper body was now completely hanging out the window.

“You wouldn’t give me your number!” He abandoned the whisper-shout, so now it was just a shout. You quickly shushed him, glancing back at your door and half expecting to see your mother there demanding to know who was yelling outside. Thankfully, she wasn’t. “Just come down here so we can talk!” He attempted to be quiet this time, beckoning for you to go meet him.

You rolled your eyes. Of course, he just had to show up right when you were about to get some much needed sleep. If you were a smart girl, you would have just shooed him away and went back to sleep, but you weren’t. There was something about Choi Yeonjun that made you desperate to hear what he had to say.

So, you let out a defeated huff. Without responding, you leaned back into your room, and picked out what was supposed to be a swimsuit cover to put on over your pajamas. Once you’d tiptoed through the house, careful not to wake your mother, you carefully opened the back door to see Yeonjun still standing in the bushes, calling up to your window like you might still be inside. You laughed softly at the sight, closing the door behind you.

When you stepped into the moonlight, he finally spotted you. “Oh! I didn’t know where you went. I thought you got sick of me and went back to sleep.”

“Mm, I thought about it.” You hummed, folding your arms across your chest in an attempt to keep your coverup from blowing open from the soft ocean breeze. You watched as his eyes drifted down to your outfit, and he lifted an eyebrow.

“Cute pajamas.” He said.

Your face warmed. “Shut up.”

He grinned.

“So, what are you doing here?” You asked, tilting your head at him as you got closer.

“I told you. You didn’t give me your number earlier.” He replied, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes.

“So, you thought you would just show up here in the middle of the night, and I’d just give it to you?”

“Duh. That was how Edward seduced Bella in Twilight.”

“I really don’t think it was.” You laughed. “Also, Edward was a hot vampire who sparkled under the sunlight. You’re not quite on his level.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Ouch? You’re mean, Y/N, really mean.”

“Just to you.” You teased him, surprised at your own flirtiness.

“How can I convince you to give me your number?” He whined. It was funny, a lot about him had changed in the last ten years, but at the same time, he was exactly the same. Annoying, whiny, but also cute.

You eyed him carefully, taking note of how his features seemed to glow under the luminescence of the moon. He may not have been sparkly like Edward Cullen, but you thought he might be more beautiful than the vampire. “Prove it to me.” You said to him.

“Prove what?”

“Prove to me that you’re not just some player, messing with me until you get bored and move onto the next girl.” The words tumbled out of your mouth, words you weren’t sure you were normally brave enough to say. But you did say them, and now your heart was racing, and you hoped you hadn’t said something wrong.

Yeonjun stared back at you, like a deer caught in headlights. “Is that what Jisu told you?” He asked, his voice coming out a bit quiet.

You nodded, tightening the grip your arms held around your stomach. “She and Chaeryeong warned me, basically called you a whore…” Your voice trailed off, the last word basically a whisper.

He said nothing for a minute, just continuing to stare back at you like you’d just dropped a huge bomb on him, then burst into laughter. “You date a few girls and suddenly you’re a whore… Sounds about right.”

Now it was your turn to stare back at him, eyebrows furrowed as you waited for some kind of explanation. Finally, his eyes met your own confused ones, and his laughter dwindled.

“Sorry. Look, I don’t know what Jisu told you, but it’s not true. I’m not some—some fuckboy that jumps from girl to girl.” He laughs nervously and runs a hand through his dark hair.

“Then it shouldn’t be hard to prove it to me.” You replied, and once again, the air went quiet.

Maybe you had been too bold. Maybe he really was just some player, looking to get a quick fix and move on, and you’d completely turned him off. It wouldn’t be the worst thing, if you had, since it would save you the hurt. On the other hand, the idea that he had set his sights on you when he first saw you at the bonfire just to hook up with you and drop you stung more than you liked to admit.

The soft breeze that rolled in with the sea tousled its way through his hair, a few stray strands falling in front of the dark eyes that bored into your own. You thought he was just going to stand there forever, and never utter a single word to you, but then, to your surprise, there was movement.

Before you had the chance to react, he was towering over you, and his fingers had hooked themselves under your chin to force you to look up at him. The moonlight reflecting off the back of his head caused him to look like he was glowing.

“Y/N.” The drop in his tone sent goosebumps down your back.

“Yeah?” You answered in the loudest voice you could conjure, which was barely a squeak.

His eyes flickered between your own, like he was searching for something inside of them. “You’re not just some… Game to me. I want to get to know you. I want to take you on dates…” He leaned forward, so close you could feel his breath fan against the shell of your ear. “I want to kiss you.”

A shaky breath fell from your lips, and you were sure he could hear it. You wanted to kiss him, too. So badly that you wanted to cup the back of his neck and crash your mouth onto his right then and there. You upheld some restraint, though, keeping your arms pinned to your side.

He pulled away from you, a sly smirk appearing on his lips that were very kissable, by the way. “Not now, though. If you give me your number, we’ll plan a date, and you can let me prove it to you, okay?”

It was like you were under some kind of spell, and the man glowing under the moonlight in front of you was some sort of sorcerer. You nodded dumbly.

You caved in. You gave him your number. Then, he kissed your cheek, and bid you goodnight. Still in a daze, you watched as he disappeared into the night, leaving you alone in the sand with only the soft sounds of the waves rolling against the beach to keep you company.

That was your first mistake.

YEONJUN WASTED NO TIME IN texting you the following morning. You were just finishing eating some waffles with your mom when you heard your phone buzz against the table, and picked it up to see a text message from an unknown number.

hey ;-)

It didn’t take a genius to know who that text had come from.

When you saw the message, a giddy feeling overcame you, and before you knew it, you were releasing the most heinous giggle you had ever let out in your life. Your mom had given you an incredulous look when the noise slipped through your lips, and you gave her a quick shrug as an apology.

You snuck off to your bedroom, collapsing onto the mattress stomach first. You looked like a girl straight out of some Disney Channel romcom, legs kicked up in the air behind you and your lip tucked between your teeth as you tried to bite back an embarrassingly wide smile.

After Yeonjun left, you had barely gotten any sleep. All you could do was replay that moment over and over again, the way his warm breath felt against your skin, the low vibration of his voice so close to your ear, as he told you he wanted to kiss you… It sent shivers down your spine every time you thought about it, without fail. So, it was safe to say you had been anticipating his text message for hours.

You finally typed up a response, hitting the send button then anxiously staring back at your screen as you awaited a response. Like most phones due, the screen dimmed after about ten seconds of nothing happening, and you let out a defeated huff. Right as you were going to give up, and let it turn itself off, the screen brightened again, as a thought bubble appeared at the bottom of the screen.

wanna grab lunch today? a little birdy told me ur a big fan of jakes

You were no longer able to bite back the smile. The grin spread across your lips as you texted back a yes.

There was no point in driving from the house you stayed in over to Jake’s, since it was only about a ten minute walk, so you assumed you would just be meeting Yeonjun there. About fifteen minutes before you’re supposed to meet, though, you walk out the front door and are surprised to see the man of the hour standing on your porch, back leaning against one of the columns and phone in his hands that kept him from noticing your presence right away.

He was wearing the most casual clothes you could imagine—a soft blue button up shirt and some shorts, but he still looked like he walked off the set of some modeling shoot. He still hadn’t noticed you, yet, typing away on his phone. Or maybe he had, and was teasing you.

You cleared your throat, which was apparently enough to grab his attention as his head snapped up. “Oh, hey. I was just about to text you.” He grinned at you, and you tried to ignore the way his voice made your stomach churn.

“What are you doing here? I thought we were going to meet there?” You asked bluntly.

“I told you I would walk you there, didn’t I?” He tilted his head at you, and you shook your head. “Oh. Oops. Well, I’m walking you there.” He smiled, and pushed himself off of the column.

You shook your head. “You didn’t have to do that.” You told him, as you started to descend the porch stairs.

“I know. That’s what makes it so charming, isn’t it?” He hummed, following behind you. “You look nice, by the way. I like your dress.”

The compliment slipped from him so casually, your face immediately felt hot. Your gaze drifted down to the little sun dress you had spent so long picking out, and now you were glad you had. “Thanks. You look nice, too.” You muttered.

“What did you say?” He used his long legs to advantage, catching right up next to you so he could lean down close. He wasn’t nearly as close to you as he had been the night before, but it still flustered you, nonetheless.

“I said, your shoes are goofy.” You responded, pointing down to the Crocs he was wearing.

He gasped. “You don’t rock with the crocs?”

“Ew. If you say that ever again, I’m going to go home and block your number.” You laughed, your nose scrunched up in disgust.

“You wouldn’t do that. You and I both know you can’t resist my charm.” He spoke confidently, basically puffing out his chest.

You rolled your eyes at him, but you couldn’t help a small giggle.

The two of you kept up the casual conversation on your venture to the diner, and you were surprised by how easy it was to talk to him. Even though you felt beyond nervous, the words fell smoothly from your lips, and by the time the two of you were situated in a booth inside Jake’s, you could feel the nerves melting away.

It didn’t take long for them to resurface, though. Once your food was ordered, you were sitting directly across from him, and it was becoming harder and harder to avoid his intense gaze. Yeonjun was much more confident than you, his eyes locked onto yours, while your own eyes darted around to avoid him.

The waiter brought over your drinks, and you noticed as he lowered onto the table that his nametag read Jake.

“Jake? Did you start working here because your name is Jake, or is your name Jake because you work here?” You asked him.

He smiled at you, and you thought he had a nice smile. “It’s funny, actually. My parents opened the place up before I was born, and called it Jake’s. Then, I was born, and they thought, ‘you know what would be a good name for our son? The name of our restaurant.’ Awful, right?” He asked you, and you giggled.

“A really, really sad story.” Yeonjun pretended to pout, then his expression morphed into a nasty glare. Jake looked uneasy, giving you a small nod before returning to the kitchen. You frowned as you looked back at Yeonjun.

“What the hell was that?”

“He was totally flirting with you.” Yeonjun grumbled, tucking his straw between his lips.

“He was not. He was just being nice.” You rolled your eyes, and Yeonjun quirked his eyebrows up in response, like he was saying whatever, but he didn’t say anything else about the subject.

He cleared his throat. “So, you’re in college, right?”

You nod.

“You’ve gotta be graduating soon, I’m guessing? What’s your major?” He asked you, leaning back in his seat comfortably.

“Environmental science.” You replied with a shrug. “What about you? Are you in school?”

He winced at the question. “Nah. I tried it, after I graduated high school, but it just… It wasn’t for me.” He said, rubbing his arm.

“I get that. It sucks, I honestly don’t know how I made it this far.” You laughed. “If you’re not in school, then what have you been up to?”

His cheeks started to redden. “Uh, I work at a phone store…”

You could tell he was hiding something else. “That’s it?” You tried to encourage him to keep going.

“No… Promise you won’t laugh…”

“I promise.” You leaned forward, becoming intrigued.

He pulled his lips into a tight line, before letting out a deep breath. “Okay, I post dance covers online. I’m trying to get scouted.” He confessed, and for the first time since you’d come on this trip, it looked like he was the nervous one.

Before you could stop yourself, you let out a laugh.

“You just said you wouldn’t laugh!” He shouted at you accusingly, and you quickly shook your head.

“No, no, I’m not laughing at the dance! I just thought it was funny that you were acting all shy about it!” You jumped to exclaim, your hands instinctively darting out to hold his wrists. “I think it’s really cool!”

He eyed you suspiciously, before his gaze lowered to your hands. You pulled them away, afraid you were making him uncomfortable, but he grabbed ahold of one of them before it got too far.

You flushed. “So, you dance? How long have you been doing that?” You grabbed your drink to take a big gulp, suddenly feeling very hot.

He hummed in thought, his cool demeanor quickly making a reappearance. “I think I started when I was 12? I’m not sure. I’ve been doing it so long, it’s hard to keep track.” He told you, dark eyes trained on your hands. “In college--the one year I was there--I was a part of the school’s dance team. But, something happened, and I decided it wasn’t for me.”

“What happened?”

“You don’t want to hear about all of that. Trust me, it’ll bore you.” He gave you a reassuring smile, and you didn’t want to push him to talk about it, instead just giving him a short nod. “So, graduating next year, huh? Is that why you decided to come visit for the Summer?”

Not exactly, you thought to yourself, but you weren’t exactly ready to drop all the gritty details about the last few months of your life, and your parents’ messy divorce onto him. Instead, you settled on a “yep”, and took another sip of your drink.

That was how most of the rest of your lunch went. Discussing the little details of your lives with one another, but purposefully leaving out the stuff he didn’t really need to know about. When Jake came back to give you your food, Yeonjun once again glared at him as though he could ignite him with his eyes if he tried hard enough, even though he hadn’t done anything wrong that you could think of. You wondered if they knew each other and had some past drama with one another, or maybe he was just incredibly jealous.

Throughout the date, you hadn’t been able to decide why Jisu had been so adamant about warning you to stay away from Yeonjun. Sure, maybe at first you got a bit of those vibes from him, but it didn’t take much conversation to prove he was more than all of that. He was genuinely sweet, and you could feel he really cared about you. You challenged him to prove himself to you, and he was already winning the challenge.

He walked you back to your house, his hand brushing dangerously close against yours the whole way. You wished he would just grab it and hold onto it the way he did back at the restaurant. He didn’t, though. Instead he kept teasing you, bumping his fingers a giant your own, and acting as though he was oblivious to the contact.

“Thank you for lunch.” You told him once the two of you had made it back to your porch, where you knew your mother was spectating from one of the windows.

“Thanks for coming with me.” He smiled down at you, and of course, his charming smile made your stomach flutter.

The two of you stood awkwardly, neither quite sure what to say, but what you were sure of was neither of you were ready to say goodbye yet.

“So? Have I proved myself to you yet?” He asked.

You hummed in response, knowing your answer was without a doubt yes, but you weren’t ready to tell him that. “I’m not sure. I think it’s going to take a few more burgers. Maybe a milkshake…”

He laughed. “Oh really?” He raised an eyebrow, and you nodded. “Okay. I’ll buy you as many burgers as my phone store salary can afford.”

“And a milkshake?”

“And a milkshake.” He suddenly reached out and tapped his finger against your nose, startling you to the point you jumped at the touch. He giggled at your reaction.

The familiar tune of an Ariana Grande song started playing, and you watched with furrowed brows as he dug his phone out of his pocket. He glanced at you with a knowing look before answering the call.

You watched as he talked on the phone, presumably to Beomgyu or Wooyoung, once again finding yourself admiring his beauty. You could look at Yeonjun a million times, and never get over how gorgeous he was. In your twenty-one years on Earth, you’d never wanted to kiss someone so bad. A part of you thought maybe he would do it now, on your doorstep, but you also knew it wasn’t time. Besides, you didn’t want to share your first kiss with him in broad daylight where your mother was watching.

“You’re such an idiot, Beomgyu… Alright, alright! I’m on my way!” He hung up the phone, a frustrated groan escaping from his mouth. “I’m sorry, Y/N, my friends are idiots who apparently don’t know how to make ramen in the microwave.” He rolled his eyes.

“It’s okay. I’ve had stupid friends, too, I understand.” You smiled at him, reaching out to pat his arm comfortingly.

Just like the night before, he bent down to kiss your cheek, and just like the night before, you were desperate for more. “Okay. I’ll text you later, alright?”

“Yeah. Later.”

YEONJUN DID NOT TEXT YOU BACK LATER. When your mother dragged you out to the beach again, you kept your phone close to you, nearly falling out of your beach chair every time it buzzed. But, never did one of the buzzes belong to the person you were most waiting for.

When you and your mother visited a local barbecue restaurant for dinner, you turned your phone off completely, hoping that pretending to be uninterested would make the text come faster. About halfway through eating, though, you excused yourself to the bathroom and powered your phone back up, waiting for the text to come through.

It didn’t.

When you couldn’t sleep, once again, you crept over to your window and half hoped he would be down there, and throw a pebble at you again. At first, you thought you saw him standing in the beach grass, but it was just an old fence post. No matter how hard you tried to will it, he wasn’t coming, and he wasn’t going to text you.

You’d given up all hope by the time you woke up, and there was no message. Honestly, you were prepared to sit around all day and feel dejected, but thank god for Choi Jisu and Lee Chaeryeong. Apparently, there was going to be a big party that night, and they wanted the three of you to go together. And, lucky for you, a party was the perfect way to get Choi Yeonjun out of your head.

“So, you got lunch with Yeonjun yesterday?” Jisu asked you, the question causing you to flinch and nearly stab your own ear with your earring. You were all currently in Jisu’s room, getting ready for the big party.

“How did you know about that?” You slowly glanced over at her, slipping the earring through your piercing.

Jisu shrugged. “It’s a small town, Y/N. Word travels fast.” She paused, looking over at Chaeryeong. “Plus, Chaer’s boyfriend works at Jake's.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Chaeryeong immediately exploded, and Jisu rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, sure he’s not. But, he said he saw Yeonjun come in with a girl, but he didn’t know her name, so we put two and two together.” Jisu explained.

“Oh. Well, yeah, I did… Are you mad?” You meekly asked, shifting your gaze towards her to gauge her reaction.

Jisu froze for a moment, a finger pressed against her lips as though she was deep in thought. “Hmm… No. I’m not mad.” She decided after a minute. “If you really, fully believe that he’s not playing you, then I’m happy for you. He’s a good guy, just really, really, really deep down.”

Chaeryeong giggled, and you frowned. “Thank you, Jisu. Really. Although, you might be right…”

“What?! What happened? I’ll kill him!” Jisu exclaimed, flipping around to face you.

“Nothing! It’s just… He told me he was going to text me yesterday, after our lunch, and he never did.” You averted her gaze, realizing how stupid it all sounded the minute the words left your mouth. The two of you had barely been apart for 24 hours, it was normal for him not to text you, right? You probably sounded insane and boy-crazy.

Your friends didn’t think so, though.

“What?! He’s such an ass! The least you can do after harassing a girl for her number is text her!” Chaeryeong’s outburst instantly made you feel much better about your insecurities.

“What a loser. See, Y/N, I told you!” Jisu pointed at you scoldingly as she made her way over to her vanity.

“But that doesn’t mean he’s a player, right? We haven’t even kissed. If he was just messing with me, he would have at least tried to have gotten something before he ghosted me, right?” You started rambling, the fear that you really had been played overcoming you.

Chaeryeong shrugged. “Maybe he’s a different kind of whore. Maybe he just wants emotional attention, not physical stuff.” She suggested, which made you feel even worse.

Jisu must have noticed you starting to freak out, as she let out a sigh and returned to be by your side. “Hey. He’s probably just an idiot who forgot. That doesn’t make him a fuckboy, it just makes him stupid. But if he is purposefully ghosting you, then he’s even more of an idiot, and you should just forget about him.” She rubbed your shoulder, and gave you a soft smile through the mirror you stood in front of.

“Either way, he’s stupid.” Chaeryeong pointed out, and the three of you started nodding in affirmation.

With all of that in mind, the three of you finished getting ready, and headed over to the party. You weren’t sure if Yeonjun was going to be there, but you hoped he was. Jisu and Chaeryeong had helped you pick out the perfect floral top, and a cute little skirt to go with it. You could confidently say that you looked good. A smaller part of you hoped he wasn’t there, though, because you deserved at least one night to yourself without thinking of him.

The party, you discovered, was being hosted by none other than Jake, the waiter you had met the day before. Apparently, his parents always took a trip for one week in the Summer, and on the Saturday of that week, he always threw a huge party. It had become a tradition. And, more importantly, the Sim family owned a huge house right on the beach, which made it the perfect spot to party.

“Wow. So, Jake’s family is rich.” You breathed out once you all made it to the destination. You thought they had been over exaggerating about the estate, but they were rather under exaggerating.

“Yep. Aside from the diner, Jake’s dad owns tons of real estate in the area. The burger shop is more of a hobby for him.” Chaeryeong explained to you, looking over with a big smile.

You nodded in understanding, shifting your gaze back over to take in the size of the house once again.

“Chaeryeong!” The three of you craned your necks in unison to see a guy you recognized from the diner approaching your little group. “I’m glad you made it. Save me a dance?” He grinned down at her, and though it was dark outside, you swore you could see your friend start to blush.

It was cute, you hadn’t really seen her get so shy before. You assumed he must have been her “boyfriend” from the diner Jisu was talking about. “In your dreams, Seungmin.” She replied, her hand coming up to push against his shoulder.

Seungmin laughed, then looked over to you and Jisu. “Hey, Ji. And hey…?”

“Y/N.” You filled in, giving him a polite smile.

“Ahh, so you’re Y/N. Chaeryeong was telling me about you.” He said with a nod, and you shot Chaeryeong a questioning glance.

“Good things, I swear.” She was quick to reassure you, then shot Seungmin a glare.

“Yep! Good things only! Like how you were so drunk you thought you had caught on fire.”

“Chaer!” You scolded your friend as Jisu and Seungmin started to laugh together. She shrugged in response, giving you a weak smile.

“I’m sorry, Y/N! It was just a funny story, you have to admit!” She giggled, and you rolled your eyes. “Come on, I know what will cheer you up!”

You huffed, slumping your shoulders dramatically as you followed her, Jisu and Seungmin inside. You were surprised by how many people had turned up to the party, you didn’t even know that many people lived in the little beach town. Though, you supposed some of them might have been vacationing there, the same as you.

Your friends led you back to the drinks—aka the back porch, where a keg had been set up as well as a table filled with all sorts of stuff. You were nearly kicked in the face as a girl swung her legs into the air to do a handstand on the keg, and a small group of people started to cheer loudly for her. You wove your way in and out of the small crowd, and over towards the table to get a drink.

“Here. Let me make you all the Jisulada.” Jisu announced, grabbing four plastic cups and placing them in a line in front of her. You watched as she began to combine random ingredients into the cups, and you could feel your stomach churn at the sight.

“There’s no real recipe. She just adds random shit every time.” Seungmin leaned down to inform you, and you laughed as you watched her pump random bottles of syrup.

“And yet, somehow it’s always delicious.” Chaeryeong watched Jisu with furrowed eyebrows, complexed as to how all the ingredients could turn out good.

Jisu handed you each a cup. “Cheers!”

You all bumped your plastic cups against each other, then took a sip. Chaeryeong was right, the drink was actually pretty good. It was too bad Jisu made it up on the spot, and probably wouldn’t be able to teach it to you.

Once you had your drinks, Seungmin and Chaeryeong split off to go talk alone, leaving just you and Jisu. You two wandered back into the house, finding an empty patch of wall to lean against that was just far enough from the speaker you could hear each other talk.

Just as you were finishing the last sip of your drink, you finally saw him. He was just wearing a dark blue button up shirt and a pair of shorts, but just like everything else he wore, he managed to make it look like high fashion. He was with Beomgyu and Wooyoung, as expected, arriving fashionably late. And it was a good thing he did, since he managed to capture the attention of everyone at the party.

You watched him with hopeful eyes as he walked through the room, waiting for him to look in your direction and come talk to you, but he never did. Next thing you knew, he was gone just as quickly as he arrived. You swore you could feel your eye twitch.

“Y/N…” Jisu started, as though she could read your mind.

“It’s fine.” You waved her off, tilting your cup as much as you could to get every last drop of the drink. “Can you make me another Jisucolada?”

“Jisulada.” She corrected.

“Yeah, one of those.” You grumbled, and Jisu frowned.

“How about we go do some dancing instead?” She suggested, pulling your hands into her own. “We’re here to have fun, right? Not to think about my stupid cousin.”

You sighed. “I guess you’re right. And, they’re playing a really good song right now.”

Jisu grinned, and started shaking your hands. “That’s the spirit! Come on, let’s dance!” Before you got the chance to change your mind, she dragged you out into the sea of people, and gave you no choice but to dance with her.

As you jumped around to the beat of the music, you could feel the effects of her Jisulada starting to kick in. Your head was starting to feel fuzzy, and you were fighting the urge to giggle at every little thing going on around you. When you thought about Yeonjun, you wanted to giggle. When you thought about Chaeryeong and Seungmin and felt the need to giggle. When you thought of your mom, all alone at the house with a book and a bottle of wine to keep her company, since your stupid dad had to abandon you guys, you couldn’t fight it anymore and started to giggle.

You weren’t sure what Jisu had thrown into the drink, but it was working wonders for you.

A finger touched your shoulder and you spun around, prepared to punch someone in the face. You relaxed, though, when you were met with the familiar smile of Jake the waiter.

“Oh my god, Jake! You gave me a heart attack!” You exclaimed, and once again started to laugh.

“Sorry. Y/N, right?” He managed to ask over the loud music, and you nodded. “I didn’t know you were friends with Jisu.”

“Yep! BFFs from childhood.” You told him, slowing down your jumping so you could properly talk to him. Jisu, however, kept dancing, seeming to completely ignore the conversation.

Jake nodded in understanding. “You used to live here?”

“No. My family used to come every summer.” You responded. “And then we stopped, because… Actually, I don’t know why we stopped. But my mom and I decided to come back.” You giggled again, and watched as he chuckled down at you.

“Cool, cool. So you’re here all summer?”

“‘Til August 27th!” You sang.

“Well, from now on, if you come into the diner while I’m working, I’ll start giving you a discount.”

You gasped. “Really? You’d do that?” You looked at him with wide eyes, and he nodded. “Good, because I love those burgers. Damn, now that I think about it, I could really go for a burger right now.” You realized, your hand falling to your stomach as your mind wandered off to the thought of stuffing a burger in your mouth.

“Hey, tell you what, you stick around another hour, we can ditch this party early and go get one.” He nudged you, and you thought you were going to explode from excitement.

“Oh my gosh, that would be so awesome. A post-party burger sounds amazing.”

“Hi, Y/N.” A familiar voice greeted you from behind, and you felt the color drain from your face. You slowly turned to see the man you both most wanted to see and least wanted to see standing behind you, and he didn’t look too happy. You didn’t feel much like giggling anymore.

Jake let out a nervous laugh. “Uh, I’ll talk to you later, Y/N.”

“No you won’t.” Yeonjun rolled his eyes, and Jake gave him one last glare before slipping into the crowd. You glanced to your side, hoping to find Jisu still dancing beside you, but she had disappeared as well, leaving you alone with Yeonjun.

He wasted no time in grabbing ahold of your wrist, and dragging you out of the crowd of dancing people. “What the fuck are you doing?!” You shouted over the music, and although you were pissed he just forced you to leave, you weren’t exactly fighting him. He didn’t respond, though, just kept walking with his eyes narrowed and hand held tightly around your wrist.

Once he got you outside, though, he led you down to the side of the house, and finally decided to talk. He dropped your arm, turning to face you with a burning expression. “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

“Um, partying? The same as everyone else.”

“No, I mean here. At fucking Jake’s party.” He spat.

Your expression turned cold. “What? Am I not supposed to be? You’re also here, aren’t you?” You snapped at him. He pressed his lips together tightly. “You don’t get to fucking ignore me for a whole day then act like a big, jealous baby, Yeonjun.”

“I wasn’t ignoring you.” He groaned in frustration, reaching up to run a hand through his silky hair. “It’s complicated, Y/N, you don’t get it.”

“Then make it uncomplicated!” You shouted into his face. “You told me you were serious about wanting to get to know me, and you weren’t just playing with me, but it sure as hell doesn’t feel that way.”

He rolled his eyes at you, and you couldn’t help but scoff. “You’re the one flirting with another guy out in the open for everyone to see.” He pointed out, his finger following suit.

“Oh my god, I was not flirting with him!” You explained in exasperation, leaning back against the side of the house. You couldn’t believe how ridiculous he was acting, but you were pretty sure the smell of alcohol wafting off of him had something to do with it. “Besides, even if I was, it doesn’t matter. Because we are not dating. We went on one date, and you didn’t text me back when you said you would, and you didn’t even kiss me--”

“Is that what you want? You want me to kiss you?” He raised both of his eyebrows at you, as if you were asking for something so stupid.

“Yes!” You didn’t mean to sound so desperate, like you were begging for it, but you couldn’t help it. For days, all you had been able to think about was what it would feel like to have his lips on your own, to run your fingers through those locks of his, and to have your body pressed flush against his own. So, yeah, no matter how badly you wanted to hide it, you couldn’t deny just how desperate you were.

He froze for a moment, then stalked over towards you. Your heart started to hammer against your chest in anticipation when one of his hands slid past your face to prop him up against the wall, caging you beneath him. The other cupped your cheek, and he leaned down so close that your noses bumped against each other. “Tell me again, Y/N. Tell me what you want.” You felt his breath fan against your lips, and even though you were supposed to be mad at him--you were supposed to be pissed--you could feel yourself crumbling.

“I want you to kiss me.” You whispered, blinking up at him through your eyelashes.

His eyes searched your own, his breath seemingly caught in the back of his throat. It looked like he was having some sort of internal battle with himself, on whether or not he should kiss you. God, if he left you hanging again, you were going to knee him right between his legs before he got the chance. “Fuck it.” He breathed out, then (finally) smashed his lips against your own.

There was an urgency in the way he kissed you, his grip on your cheek tightening and his lips rough against yours, like he was going to starve to death if he didn’t get a taste of you. There was just as much desperation on your end, though, as one of your hands crawled up his shoulder and the other began to entangle itself in the hair that fell right at the back of his neck.

Just as you had predicted, kissing him was electrifying. Every inch of your skin his fingers came into contact with felt like it was being lit ablaze. You were perfectly in sync with him, and your lips melded together as though they had been made for the other. You had kissed people before, but nothing had ever come close to this.

He pushed you so you were pressed flush against the wall, and the hand that had been propping himself up before found a new home on your waist. You clung to him tightly, and if you pulled him any closer against yourself, you were sure your bodies would melt into one another. Still, you raised one of your legs and wrapped your leg around his hip, and you felt him grunt against your lips at the contact.

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled away from the kiss, briefly pausing to look down at you. His lips were puffy, his eyes were heavy with lust, and he looked absolutely gorgeous. He leaned back down, only to attach his lips to your neck this time. Your breathing grew deeper as he peppered your skin with kisses, and an occasional nip with his teeth.

“I’m sorry. For not texting you.” He breathed against your skin between kisses.

You weren’t totally sure if you forgave him or not, yet, but your lips moved faster than your brain did. “It’s okay.” You replied breathlessly, and bit your lip to hold back any noises when his mouth found a particularly sensitive spot.

He leaned up and away from your neck, so his face was in line with your own again. “Don’t talk to Jake anymore, okay?” He asked, and you immediately nodded. He smiled, and dove back in to connect your lips for one more kiss. “You’re mine.” He whispered against your mouth, and once again, you caught yourself nodding fervently.

“You’re all mine.”

YOU STARTED SEEING YEONJUN MORE REGULARLY AFTER THE PARTY. In the deep hours of the night, he would appear outside your bedroom window, trying to throw pebbles at your window and missing every one. One night, he even attempted to crawl up the trellis lining the side of the house, but a piece broke off and he fell before he got the chance. You would usually end up sitting on the porch swing on the backside of your house, talking and… Kissing.

You hated yourself for ever letting Jisu get into your head. Yeonjun had proved to you over and over again that he was interested in you for more than just hooking up, that he had genuine feelings for you. It made the realization that the summer would end in two months, and you would be going back to the city, sting. So, you decided not to think about it. Which was easy, because when you were with Yeonjun, he was just about all you could think about.

“Did you tell your mom I broke the trellis?” He asked you a few nights after he’d tried to scale the side of the house, a grin playing on his perfect lips.

You giggled, shaking your head. The two of you were sitting opposite of each other, out on the swing. “No. I told her I didn’t know anything about it. Must have been a wild animal.” You told him, and he laughed at that.

“Okay, good. It’s bad enough that you witnessed that, I don’t need anybody else knowing about it.” He said, reaching up to rub the back of your neck.

“Oh. Well, I definitely didn’t tell Jisu and Chaer about it, then.”

He paled. “Y/N! Now Jisu’s gonna tell her mom and she’s gonna tell my mom! They’re all gonna bully the shit out of me!” He whined, leaning forward to lightly hit your knee.

“Maybe you deserve it.” You shrugged, and broke into a smile when he looked at you with the saddest look he could muster up. “Aw, you poor baby. I’m joking, I didn’t tell them…” You leaned forward, putting your lips close to his ear. “That can stay between us.”

When you started to pull away, he caught the nape of your neck in his hand, looking at you with one of his eyebrows cocked up. “You promise?” He asked, using his other hand to hold up a pinky.

You were immediately flustered by the proximity. You could feel your face getting hot, and your heartbeat in your ears as your wide eyes darted down to look at his pinky. Slowly, you lifted up your own, looping it together with his. “I promise.” The words came out barely above a whisper, and a thick silence filled the air.

For a second, you thought he was going to kiss you, as he leaned forward close enough to brush his nose against yours. But, then he pulled away, a smirk finding its way onto his lips as he observed your reaction.

“You’re cute.” He said, unlacing his pinky from your own so he could poke the tip of your nose. He let go of you, leaning back against the arms of the bench to laugh at you.

You frowned, then smacked his chest. “Shut up! I hate you so much!” Now you were the one whining, all the while he kept giggling at your reaction.

“Come on, we all know that’s not true.” He said matter-of-factly, sitting back up so his face was closer to you again.

“It is. I seriously hate you, Choi Yeonjun.” You replied, folding your arms across your chest.

He tilted his head, and gently laced his hand through one of yours. He pulled it away from your chest, then rose it up to his lips. “Do you hate me when I do this?” He asked, then placed a kiss against your knuckles.

You turned your head away. “Yes.” You said defiantly.

You could feel the swing shift as he scooted closer to you, and this time he kissed your cheek. “Do you hate me when I do this?”

You nodded, keeping your head turned away from him. “Yep.”

His breath was hot against your jaw when he pressed his lips there next, asking the question again. Only this time, you were starting to get so hot and bothered, you barely heard him ask. You just nodded quickly, swallowing hard.

Finally, two of his fingers pressed against the other side of your jaw, and gently turned you to look at him. “What about…” He leaned forward, touching his nose against your own just like he had done a minute earlier. “When I do…” His breath fanned against your lips, and you couldn’t take it anymore. “Thi-”

You cut him off by taking charge, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. Honestly, from the minute you first heard him trying to throw pebbles at your window, you had been dying to kiss him. Really, kissing Yeonjun was one of the only things on your mind since Jake’s party. The feeling of lips on yours like a drug, and you were past the point of calling yourself addicted.

He must have been wanting it just as bad as you, as he wasted no time slipping his hands onto your waist and pulling you onto his lap. Your hands rested on his shoulders, steadying yourself as the swing started to gently sway from all the movement. His fingers sliding under your t-shirt and finding home on the skin of your waist feel like tiny little wildfires lighting every inch they brush over ablaze.

You felt like you were going crazy, like you were some kind of feral animal that found its next meal. All you could think about was how you wanted—no, needed—more of him. It was like your body had gone into autopilot, as your fingers moved from his shoulders down to the hem of his shirt, which you found yourself toying with.

He paused for a minute, pulling back from the kiss to look at you. His lips were swollen from your kisses, and his dark hair was disheveled, his bangs falling in the way of his eyes. Yeonjun always looked good, that wasn’t up for debate. But, it was nothing compared to how he looked right now. Right now, the only word that came to mind to describe him was perfect.

He dove back into your lips, and you were starting to have a difficult time keeping up with him. If you had to guess, Yeonjun was a lot more experienced than you. Sure, you’d had a few make out sessions in your life, but never enough to consider yourself an expert, and you’d never done anything further than that. His mouth moved with such expertise, his tongue prodding against your lips to let you in, you were starting to feel a bit overwhelmed.

When his hand slipped up under your shirt, that’s when you knew you were in trouble. As much as you were enjoying it, you forced yourself to pull away from him. He quickly retracted his hand, gazing up at you with furrowed brows.

“Sorry, I—, I think we should slow down for just a minute.” You breathed out, letting a nervous laugh slip past your swollen lips.

He nodded. “Yeah, okay. Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything—“

“‘—No! That’s not it!” You cut him off, tightening your grip on his shoulders. “It’s just… I’m not very… Experienced in this stuff…” I’m scared, you thought, but you didn’t dare tell him that out loud.

“I understand, don’t worry about it.” He leaned forward and gave you a gentle peck that made your heart swell. “So… Are you…?”

Your face grew hot. You nodded in response, too embarrassed to say the words yes, I’m a virgin out loud. You were about to graduate college in the next year, and you were still a virgin. Everyone always told you it was nothing to be ashamed of, but you still couldn’t help being a bit embarrassed when the subject came up.

“Oh, okay. Well, don’t be afraid to tell me if you don’t want to do something. I want you to be comfortable no matter what, okay?” He stared you dead in the eyes, like he was looking for any sign of hesitation.

You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you nodded in understanding. “Okay.” You said quietly, and he smiled at your answer. You couldn’t believe how sweet he was being about the whole thing. Surely he had to have some sort of flaw, right?

With that, he leaned in to kiss you just one more time, only this time it was a lot more gentle and intimate than your previous kisses. It was the kind of kiss that gave you butterflies, the kind of kiss that made you realize you might be falling in love with him.

Oh, god. You were falling in love with Choi Yeonjun.

ONE THING ABOUT JISU WAS SHE LOVED PLANNING PARTIES. So, when her friend Keena’s twentieth birthday rolled around, she practically leapt at the opportunity to plan something. You hardly knew Keena, you’d only met her a few times through Jisu, but your friend insisted you come to the party anyway. According to her, it was going to be a huge party, and everyone was going to be there anyway, so it wasn’t going to be weird!

It had been about a week since your revelation. You were falling in love with Yeonjun, and you were falling in love fast. The realization terrified you.

The only time you’d seen love had been with your parents, until you found out they weren’t as in love as you previously thought, since your dad had been hooking up with your housekeeper. He might not have loved your mother anymore, but you knew she still loved him. You saw it in the way she was still fighting to get over him, even now.

The thought of falling in love, and having to experience the same heartbreak you watched your mom go through for the last few months made you feel sick. So, out of fear, you had been sort of avoiding Yeonjun for the last week. Which was kind of hypocritical of you, considering you had gotten angry at him for doing that to you before. But, at least you had a good reason, right?

Tonight, though, at Keena’s party, it was more than likely he would be there. Part of you was excited to see him, and had been missing him, while the other part was scared of confrontation, and having to explain to him why you had been avoiding him.

“Y/N, could you pass me that bag of Doritos?” Jisu’s sweet voice yanked you out of your sea of thoughts, reminding you that you were supposed to be helping her set up for the party, not thinking about Yeonjun.

“Did you get enough chips?” Chaeryeong asked incredulously as Jisu popped open the bag and began to pour them into a plastic bowl.

Jisu rolled her eyes. “This house is going to be filled with a bunch of guys that are just finishing puberty. Trust me, in my experience planning parties, they eat a lot.”

Keena, who was wearing a ‘Birthday Girl’ tiara on top of her head, let out a small giggle. “True. Umm, speaking of guys…” She paused for a minute, looking over at Jisu nervously. “Do you know if Yeonjun is coming tonight?”

Everyone froze. Including you, who nearly choked on your own spit.

“Oh. Uhh, no, I’m not really sure…” Jisu answered, then glanced over at you. “Y/N might know, though.”

Keena furrowed her eyebrows. “What? Why might Y/N know?” She asked slowly, her intense gaze flickering between you and Jisu. Then, you watched as her eyes widened, and the answer seemed to dawn on her. “Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t know you and Yeonjun were--”

“It’s fine.” You quickly waved her off. “You know what? I think I’m gonna go check on the drinks really quick. Just make sure everything is in its place.” You forced the best smile you could muster up, and started to leave.

“Oh, I’ll come with you! I think I left my bracelet out there earlier.” Chaeryeong raced after you, and you had a feeling she was as desperate as you were to escape the awkward tension that had suddenly filled the air.

The two of you slipped out the door and into the backyard, where all the different soda and alcoholic drinks Jisu had gotten were being stored. With a long sigh, you bent down and opened up one of the coolers. You half considered dipping your head into the ice in an attempt to calm yourself down, but then you would ruin the makeup you had spent so much time on.

Chaeryeong watched you awkwardly, toying with a ring on her finger. “They made out once. Last summer. At a bonfire.” She suddenly spoke up.

You looked back at her over your shoulder. “What?”

“Keena and Yeonjun. I think she’s had a crush on him since forever, and they made out last summer. I think that’s why she was asking.” She explained.

“He kissed her?” You asked in disbelief. “How many girls that are coming tonight has he made out with?”

She shrugged. “Like, 6. There are a few guys, too, I think.”

You groaned, and the idea of sticking your head in the cooler was sounding more and more like a good idea.

“But, you really shouldn’t worry!” Chaeryeong was quick to reassure you, kneeling down next to you. “He always ended up ghosting them after. I’ve seen Yeonjun kiss a lot of people, but I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you!” She smiled, and rubbed your back reassuringly.

You looked over at her. “Really?”

She nodded. “Really. I know it sounds so cliche, but he’s… Different, around you. I really think you’re more than just a quick hookup to him.”

She was right. It was so cliche. And she was probably just saying it to make you feel better, but it still made your heart swell up. You couldn’t help smiling back at her, leaning into her touch.

“Thanks, Chaer.” It was hard to remember that you would be leaving her at the end of the summer, and probably rarely talk to her again after that. Your old friends back at home would never have been able to cheer you up the way she did. In fact, you could hear Haeun’s voice now, telling you he’s just a manwhore, Y/N! There’s no way he’s into you!

You wished you could stay there forever.

The door flew open, and your little hug was broken as the two of you jumped to turn around and look. There was Jisu, standing with her hands on her hips. “Could you at least close the cooler? You’re going to melt all of the ice!” She snapped at the two of you. “And come back in here! We need to get the beer pong table set up before people start arriving!”

You and Chaeryeong shared a brief amused look. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, we’re coming.” She rolled her eyes, standing up.

Initially, you had gone out there to escape from the insecurity starting to inflate inside of you, but thanks to Chaeryeong’s words, you were starting to feel a whole lot more secure in your relationship with Yeonjun. Who cared if he kissed Keena a year ago, and she was still into him?

Yeonjun had his eyes on you. Not Keena. And if what Chaeryeong had said was true, that he was different towards you… Maybe there was a small chance he was falling for you, too.

There was nothing to worry about…

Right?

KEENA’S PARTY WAS EVEN BIGGER THAN YOU’D ANTICIPATED. It seemed like there were as many people as were at Jake’s party, if not more. You doubted everyone there knew Keena, and were intending to celebrate her birthday. Most of them were probably just looking for a good time.

You had been hoping to run into Yeonjun soon. You wanted to apologize, and explain why you had been so distant the past week. After you had gotten so angry at him for doing the same thing to you, an explanation was what he deserved, right?

So far, though, you had yet to see him anywhere. You wondered if maybe he had decided not to show up after all. If you’d learned one thing about Yeonjun, though, it was that he was not one to miss a party. Especially not a rager like this one. So, you knew he was somewhere in the house, it was just a question of where.

You had just finished combing through the kitchen unsuccessfully when you wandered over towards the beer pong table, releasing a frustrated sigh. You were prepared to give up and just text him and ask where he was, but that’s when you saw him.

No, not Yeonjun. It was Beomgyu, playing a game of beer pong with some random people you didn’t know. Relief washed over you as you trudged over to him, praying that your search was nearing its end.

“Beomgyu!” You called out, then realized he had just been preparing to toss his ball, and your shout had totally thrown him off. He frowned as the ball bounced off the edge of a cup, and the perfect throw he’d been aiming for was ruined forever.

With a defeated sigh, he finally looked in your direction. “Y/N? You wanna play, or something?” He asked, gesturing to the cups.

“No, I’m not very good. Uh, no, I was just going to ask if you knew where Yeonjun was?” You smiled hopefully at him.

He tapped a finger to his lips, as though he was deep in thought. “Hmm, no. Wait! Yes, last time I saw him he was out on the back porch. Actually, that might have been Wooyoung… No-no, it was definitely Yeonjun. Yeah, he’s out on the back porch.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “You sure?” Clearly, he had been playing too much beer pong, and was already drunk.

“Yeah, one hundred percent, lady. Oh, if you see him, will you ask where he put my Air Force Ones? I know he stole them, I just don’t know where he’s hiding them.”

You blinked, then nodded slowly. Yeah, you weren’t really sure just how reliable Beomgyu was, but it was the closest thing you had to a lead at that point. “Sure. I’ll ask.”

With that, you started walking away, ready to wrap up the conversation, but before you got the chance, Beomgyu caught your wrist. He tugged you back, a bit closer to him, then leaned in close so you could feel his breath on your ear.

“Be careful around him, Y/N.”

You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “What?” You whispered.

He smiled. “I said have fun with him, Y/N! Bye!” He let go of your wrist, and returned to the game, leaving you standing there dumbfounded.

Be careful around him. He really said that, didn’t he? You hadn’t imagined it? He had recovered from it so nonchalantly, and returned to his game without any hesitation, you wondered if maybe you were going crazy and hallucinated it. During your time exploring the party, you’d had a few drinks, so maybe you were just a little intoxicated.

For now, you decided to just ignore it. Instead, you started to make your way up through the house, and in the direction of the back porch. You were glad you did decide to have a few drinks, otherwise your nerves might have been on fire. Granted, you weren’t completely relaxed, but your hands weren’t shaking, so that was a good sign.

You pushed through the crowd of people until you finally found yourself out on the back porch where you had been hiding out with Chaeryeong earlier in the day.

I’ve never seen him look at someone the way he looks at you!

Be careful around him, Y/N.

You shook your head, trying to shake the voices of your friends loose from your mind.

Finally, you spotted him. He was leaning up against the railing, appearing to be deep in conversation with someone, but you couldn’t see who. Then, the person blocking your view moved out of the way, and your heart sank. Suddenly, you wished you hadn’t seen him.

He was talking to Keena, who had her hand resting on his arm, and was leaning in close to laugh about something he said. And the worst part was, he wasn’t trying to get her to move, or anything like that. No, instead he leaned down as well, so their faces were practically inches away from each other as their loud laughter drifted across the patio to you.

You were trying really, really hard not to think the worst, but you couldn’t help it. She was basically all over him, and he wasn’t doing anything about it.

But what did you expect? It wasn’t like he was your boyfriend or anything.

You made the mistake of standing and staring for too long, though. Because he must have felt your gaze burning into the side of his face, and glanced in your direction. Except the glance turned into a wide-eyed stare when he realized it was you watching them.

He started to say something to Keena, peeling her hands off of him, but you were out of there before you saw what happened next. You spun around on your heel and stormed back into the house, feeling tears brim in the corners of your eyes. You didn’t know why you were crying. You were the one who had stopped talking to him for the last week. You had come clean and told him you were a virgin. It was no wonder he had gotten bored of you and moved onto someone else.

You turned down a hallway, and threw open the first door to a bedroom you found. There was a couple making out on the bed, who jumped when you flung the door open, then glared at you. “Excuse you, can’t you see we’re in the middle of something?” One of the girls asked.

“Go do it somewhere else!” You snapped at her, and she scoffed at your exclamation.

“Listen, girl, we were here first--”

“Give us the room!” You didn’t even notice him come up behind you. With an annoyed groan, you buried your face in your palms. This room was supposed to be your escape from him, and now he was ruining it. You had half a mind to elbow him in the stomach.

The girls rolled their eyes, but were apparently not in the mood to argue--not with Yeonjun, at least. You were both quiet as they walked past, and you tried to follow them out of the room, but of course he stopped you. He tugged you back into the room, and shut the door before you could run back out.

“Y/N, look, it wasn’t what it looked like--”

“Of course it wasn’t! It never is, is it?” You were trying not to be angry at him, but he was making it so difficult!

He sighed as you went to sit on the bed. “Look, I don’t even know why you’re that upset. You haven’t talked to me all week, so I thought you were… Done with this, I don’t know.”

You shook your head, pressing your elbows into your knees as you cradled your cheeks with your palms. “No, it’s not that. I’m just…” Your voice trailed off, and suddenly it became hard to talk. His presence looming in the doorway wasn’t exactly helping, either.

When he finally left his spot to come sit on the bed next to you, you weren’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing. “What is it, Y/N? I need you to talk to me.” He said softly.

You looked over at him, to see his dark eyes gazing down on you. He should be annoyed with you, and your childish behavior. But he’s not. Instead, his eyes are so full of fondness, you can’t help but think back to what Chaeryeong told you.

I’ve never seen him look at someone the way he looks at you!

You suppose it’s time you did what you had intended to do when you first went onto the porch--tell him the truth.

“That’s not why I was ignoring you… I was ignoring you because--and this probably sounds really silly and stupid, but--I think I was scared.” The last word slipped through your lips, barely above a whisper.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Scared? Scared of what?” He asked you.

“I just… I really like you, Yeonjun. Like, really like you. And I was scared of how fast I was starting to like you.” You knew it was stupid before, but now that you had actually said it, it sounded really stupid.

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, didn’t react, but then he slowly started to smile. “You really like me?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes, and punched his shoulder. “Shut up! I’m serious!”

He winced, reaching up to rub where you had hit him. “Okay, okay, sorry. I guess I’m just a little confused why that would be scary. Shouldn’t that be a good thing? Because I really like you, too.”

There was only one way you could really make him understand. You sucked in a shaky breath, and braced yourself. “Can I… Tell you something?”

He nodded. “Yeah, of course. Tell me anything.”

“This summer… The reason me and my mom came down, just the two of us… Earlier this year, my mom came home to find my dad hooking up with our housekeeper.” You paused, looking over at him for a reaction. “I thought he loved my mom, but I guess he didn’t--or at least not enough. And I saw how badly that hurt her, I had to be there to help pick up the pieces of her broken heart. So, I guess I was really just scared, that I could see myself falling in love with you, and that means you have the power to break my heart, just like my dad did to my mom.”

The room was silent. Yeonjun was staring down at you, his eyes wide, and you thought they were starting to look a bit glassy. His lips were slightly parted, like he was getting ready to say something, but nothing came out. You weren’t sure you had ever seen Yeonjun at a loss for words before. Quiet Yeonjun was a lot scarier than talkative Yeonjun.

“See, I knew it was stupid.” You heaved a defeated sigh, and stood up to leave, but for the second time that night, Yeonjun grabbed ahold of your wrist.

“It’s not stupid.” He reassured you quickly. You looked down at him, to see him gazing up at you with a pleading expression, then decided to sit back next to him. “I’m sorry your dad did that, Y/N. Your mom didn’t deserve that--you didn’t deserve that. But I promise, I won’t ever hurt you the way he did. You have nothing to be afraid of.”

You could feel your eyes growing wet again. “Really?” You breathed out. “You promise?”

He nodded fervently. “I promise.”

Then, the two of you leaned in at the same time, connecting your lips in a passionate kiss. Your heart was hammering against your chest, and you were overwhelmed by how strong your feelings for him were growing. It was still a scary feeling, but it was a little less scary now that he made that promise to you.

The kiss didn’t last for long, though, as you pulled away and instead buried your face in his shoulder. “I’m sorry for not talking to you.”

He laughed softly, resting one of his hands on the back of your head. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for letting Keena flirt with me. I should have shut that down a long time ago.”

You smiled. “Yeah, you should have. But… It’s her birthday. You can tell her later.”

“Yeah. Later.” He leaned back, and you looked up so you were at eye level with him again. He pressed his lips against yours again, and snuck a hand around your waist. As you kissed him, he pulled you up so you were straddling his lap. “Can we stay here all night?” He whispered against your lips.

You giggled, shaking your head as you kissed him again. “No. I need to go check in with Jisu and see if she needs anything.” You told him, and he whined.

“Jisu is fine, what about what I need?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re like a baby. We can make out later, let me just go--”

Suddenly he fell back onto the bed, taking you down with him. He rolled over so he was hovering over you, looking down at you with a playful grin. “Now you’re trapped, so I guess you’re stuck here with me.”

“Oh yeah?” You laughed, and reached up to wrap your arms around the back of his neck.

“Yeah.” He breathed out, and leaned down to once again capture your lips in a heated kiss. This time, you didn’t try to protest. Jisu could wait. You had gone a whole week without this, and now that you’d gotten another taste of him, you were reminded of how you just couldn’t get enough of him.

Thankfully, the girls who you had kicked out never came back, and nobody else barged in to interrupt you. You had no idea whose room the two of you were in, but for that night, it belonged to you.

WHEN YOU WERE A KID, YOU ALWAYS LOOKED FORWARD TO the annual fair that took place out on the boardwalks. There were rides, games, snacks, and best of all, they would end the night with a sky full of fireworks. Your parents would always buy you some cotton candy, pay off the people running the games to help you win some stuffed prize, then take you up on the ferris wheel to watch the fireworks. It was perfect.

You couldn’t believe it when you found out the tradition was still going strong. As soon as you found out it was happening towards the end of July, you knew you had to be there. And more importantly, you knew you wanted to go with Yeonjun.

Unfortunately for you, though, Beomgyu and Wooyoung also wanted to go with Yeonjun. You decided to make it a group outing, inviting Jisu and Chaeryeong to tag along as well. It wasn’t ideal, but you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t looking forward to it a little bit. Besides, you could always steal Yeonjun away later, right?

“I think we should go through the haunted house first.” Beomgyu suggested as the six of you wandered around the boardwalks.

Due to you now being in the last couple of weeks of July, it seemed like the heat of the summer was at an all time high. Even in the shade, in a pair of shorts and a tank top, you were still melting in the heat. The humidity radiating off of the ocean wasn’t helping much, either.

“No! You know those things scare me!” Yeonjun exclaimed, jabbing a finger in Beomgyu’s direction.

You grinned. “Aww, don’t worry Jjunie, I can protect you from the scary ghosts.” You cooed at him, hugging his arm close to you.

Beomgyu and Wooyoung exchanged a look as Yeonjun began to giggle at your antics. For some reason, it reminded you of what Beomgyu had told you the night of Keena’s party.

Be careful around him, Y/N.

Jisu cleared her throat. “Stop being gross. I think Beomgyu’s right, let’s go to the haunted house.”

Yeonjun frowned, but you looped your fingers together with his in an attempt to soothe him. He smiled down at you, and you assumed it was working.

“Careful, Y/N, he’ll break your hand off.” Wooyoung commented as the six of you started heading towards the haunted house. “One time, we went on a group date to see a scary movie, and I swear he broke the girl’s fingers.”

You tensed up at the mention of another girl. Of course, you knew Yeonjun had dated other people before you, and after your conversation at the party, you knew you had nothing to be jealous of. Still, the comment stung a bit.

“Oh my god, remember when we played with that VR set last summer, and Yeonjun started crying while playing Five Nights at Freddy’s VR?” Chaeryeong started to laugh loudly, and Yeonjun glared at her.

“Shut up! Jisu started crying too, but nobody brings that up!” He snapped defensively, and you couldn’t help laughing.

Jisu shrugged. “That’s because you’re a man. You’re supposed to be strong and macho, or whatever. Girls are allowed to cry.”

“Isn’t that a little anti-feminist of you?” Beomgyu asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“So what if it is? Girls are allowed to be anti-feminist.” She teased, and Beomgyu rolled his eyes.

“In my Women’s Studies class, they taught us that was a bad mindset.” Wooyoung said.

“Why did you take a Women’s Studies class?” You laughed in disbelief.

He glanced away. “…Because the TA was hot.”

Finally, you all made it to the haunted house. It looked exactly the same as it had when you were a little girl, too afraid to dare go inside of it. Your dad had tried to convince you to go in with him multiple times, but you always told him no! You were still a little bit scared, but after the way they had just clowned Yeonjun, you absolutely were not going to let anyone know that.

Instead, you just clung on tightly to Yeonjun, assuring him you were just doing it to make him feel better. But when the two of you rounded a corner to be jump scared by someone dressed as a zombie, and you screamed as you buried your face into your chest, it was obvious you were just as scared as him.

“You’re kinda cute when you’re scared. Maybe we should go through haunted houses more often.” Yeonjun commented once you were out of earshot of the actor.

“Nope. You better get a good look and savor scared Y/N now, because I’m never doing this shit again.” You said sweetly, tilting your chin to look up at him. You were still nestled against his chest as the two of you walked, clinging onto one another for safety.

“Oh trust me, I am looking.” He flashed that stupid, flirty grin that always gave you butterflies, then started to lean down.

There was a loud gagging sound. “God, is this why you two are so far behind? It’s not enough to make out everywhere else, you have to do it here, too?” Wooyoung asked incredulously.

You pushed yourself away from his chest. “Nope! I was just wiping away his tears!”

Yeonjun gasped. “What?! Don’t lie! She was scared, too!” He shouted after you as you jogged to catch up with the others.

BY THE TIME THE SUN WAS STARTING TO SET, and fireworks were just a short while away, you were exhausted. You were pretty sure the heat was slowly killing you, and you had spent several hours playing stupid carnival games because Wooyoung insisted on beating each one. Which was how he ended up with arms full of plushies that he started giving out to random children.

Yeonjun won you a fox plushie at the ring toss after you informed him that it reminded you of him. He said it was so you would always be reminded of him, which reminded you that in about a month, you’d be going back to the city, and you didn’t know if you’d ever see him again.

But, today wasn’t the day to be thinking about that. You wanted to focus on the fact that you were there with him now, and ignore that the future was creeping in closer and closer. Stressing about it wasn’t going to make things any easier for when the time came, so what was the point?

The two of you were once again lagging behind your other friends as you walked around, relishing in the cool air that was starting to set in as the sun prepared to dip below the horizon. In one hand, you held the fox plushie close to your chest, and in the other, you held Yeonjun’s hand tightly.

“Ugh, I’m so tired. I think my feet are going to fall off.” You groaned to him, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder.

He gently shook with soft laughter. “Yeah, I know. When I was a kid, I could run around here for hours, but now I just get worn out so quickly.” He said with a sigh. “I had an idea, though. I know you wanted to go watch the fireworks from the ferris wheel, but I think I might know a better place.”

“Oh yeah?” You looked up at him curiously.

He nodded. “Yeah. It’ll be a good view, and there will be way less people. Nice and secluded.”

“Ooh, I like the sound of that.” You giggled. Of course, you’d been hoping to watch the fireworks the way you used to, but more than that you were dying to get some alone time with Yeonjun. Your friends were being third, fourth, fifth and sixth wheels, and ruining everything.

You blamed stupid Choi Beomgyu and Jung Wooyoung.

“We just have to sneak away from our friends first…” His voice trailed off as he glanced around, as though he was looking for a way to escape.

You hummed in thought. “Hmm… Oh! I have an idea!”

You tugged him by his hand in the direction of your friends, picking up the pace to switch into a jog. He didn’t question you, he just jogged behind you, still holding tightly onto your hand, like he was afraid of you slipping out of his grasp.

Once she noticed you approaching her from behind, Chaeryeong let out a low groan. “If you guys are going to keep being gross, you should go do it somewhere else. You’re going to ruin some perfectly good fireworks!” She whined.

You smiled over at Yeonjun, realizing this was going to be a lot easier than you thought. “So… You wouldn’t mind if we snuck away and left you guys to watch them together?” You inquired slowly.

“What?! No! You can’t steal him away from us! Let’s split up, boys and girls!” Wooyoung grabbed Yeonjun’s other hand, trying to tug him away from you.

“Did they teach you to do that in your Women’s Studies class?” Jisu raised an eyebrow.

Wooyoung hissed at her.

“Ew, I’m not going with you after you did that, freak!” Yeonjun snapped his hand out of his grip. “I’m actually feeling a little sick after The Zipper, so I just want to turn in early.”

It was so obviously a lie, a lot worse than the one you had been planning to use, but it looked like your friends had given up hope. “Fine… Make sure you take care of him, Y/N.” Beomgyu released a sigh of defeat.

“If you throw up on her, I’ll kill you.” Jisu threatened. Chaeryeong nodded in solidarity.

“I’m not going to throw up on her!”

“He might! Because he’s so very sick. Come on, Jun!” You waved to your friends as you started to pull him away, smiling widely at them. “I’ll text you guys later!”

“Don’t forget to use protection!” Wooyoung shouted once you guys were practically out of earshot.

Your face grew hot, and you were suddenly overwhelmed with mortification. Did he want everyone at the fair to think you two were sneaking off to have sex? You hoped Jisu punched him for that. She and Chaeryeong were the only people other than Yeonjun that you had told about your… Predicament. At least you knew that those two knew you weren’t running away to hook up. You just hoped nobody else you knew heard him.

“Ignore him. He’s a fucking idiot.” Yeonjun glared over his shoulder, and you watched as he held up a middle finger towards Wooyoung.

“Yeah, I’ll say.” You muttered, looking down to find interest in your sandals.

He let go of your hand, and you were about to complain but he instead wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you close to him. “C’mon. Let me show you the super special spot I had in mind.”

The entire walk to his “super special spot”, he kept a firm grip on you, keeping you close to him. You knew that Yeonjun was a touchy guy, you discovered that pretty early on. Tonight, though, he seemed clingier than usual. You didn’t really mind, in fact you liked staying close to him. There was just something about being so close to him that made you feel safe, and secure. Like nothing bad would happen as long as you were with him.

His super special spot, as it turned out, was your house.

You gave him a deadpan look.

“No, I know what you’re thinking! But, look, you have a perfect view of where the fireworks go off! Especially if we climb out of your window onto your roof!” He beamed down at you proudly.

“Absolutely not. My mom might actually wring our necks and kill us if she finds out we’re climbing up there.” You started to laugh, shaking your head at the idea.

“But you said your mom is out with friends tonight, right? She’ll never even know we were up there.”

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down as you mulled the idea over. He was right, you did tell him about how your mom was out drinking with some of her old friends. And if she did come home and see you up there, you might be able to convince her that she was so drunk that she imagined it, or something like that. “Okay, fine! But if I fall down and break my neck, you’re paying my medical bills.”

“Nope! If you go down, I go down, too!” He sang, hot on your tail like a lost puppy as you wandered up your porch stairs.

You laughed softly as you picked through your keyring to find the right one. “I’m not sure if that’s really stupid, or really romantic.”

Suddenly, you felt his arms wrap around your waist from behind, and his breath against your neck, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin. “Why not both?” He asked, then leaned forward to press a kiss against your cheek.

As you finally got the door open, you giggled, and tried to push him off of you. “Come on, this way!” You raced up the stairs, and just as you had hoped, he began to chase after you. He was barely inches behind you, filling you up with adrenaline as you screamed and turned down the hallway in the direction of your bedroom.

Unfortunately, your door was closed, which gave him plenty of time to catch up to you as your nerves made it difficult to wring the doorknob open. The second the door opened up, he caught you, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you off the ground. The air was filled with giggles and screams as he carried you over to your bed.

“Yeonjun, stop--!” You barely managed to get out between your laughter, and you let out a loud yelp when he dumped you onto the cushy mattress, then crawled on top of you.

You were out of breath as you laid against your bed, chest heaving up and down as you tried to cool your giggles. He was hovering over you, and you recalled the last time he had caged you in back at Keena’s party. As the two of you were catching your breath, though, something in the air felt different. His dark eyes were flickering between yours, like he was searching for something inside of them.

You were suddenly overcome with a warm feeling, and before you got the chance to stop yourself and ask if this was a good idea, you whispered to him. “I think I’m in love with you.”

For some reason, you thought you would regret telling him that. You thought it would ruin things between the two of you, and make him regret ever going out with you. But, you weren’t regretting it. You had been thinking it for over a week now, and finally, you were able to get it off of your chest. And even if he didn’t feel the same, even if he thought you were rushing into things too fast, you were just glad that you had finally worked up the nerve to tell him. Because it was true, and he deserved to know.

He stared down at you, blinking. “You are?” He asked, barely loud enough for you to hear in the silent room.

You nodded, taking a good look at his face. His long, pretty eyelashes, his pointed nose, his perfectly shaped lips… As you were taking him in--all of him--there was absolutely no doubt in your mind.

“Yeah. I’m in love with you.”

The second the last word left your mouth, Yeonjun wasted no time diving down to connect his lips with yours. By that point, you had kissed him more times than you could count, but you didn’t care about any of those other times, because nothing compared to this one.

He didn’t need to say it back. You could feel it in the way he gently pushed your stray strands of hair out of your face, and in the way he cupped your cheek as he kissed you, like you were the most precious object in the whole world to him. When he pulled away from your lips to press kisses all over your face--your eyes, your nose, your cheeks, your chin--you knew that he loved you too.

A bright light flooded into your room through the window, followed by a loud boom. The two of you looked to see the fireworks you had been dying to see finally going off, and he was right. Your bedroom had a perfect view.

He looked back down at you, his lips slightly swollen from all the kissing. “Do you--still wanna--watch?” He asked between breaths.

A wave of confidence rushed over you, and you shook your head. With a shaky breath, you lifted one of your legs, hooking it around his lower back to pull him close to you. “Yeonjun…I’m ready for you.”

The room glowed red. “Are you--Are you sure?” He whispered, furrowing his brows as he examined your face.

Before now, you’d never really felt the desire to be with someone intimately like that. Nobody had ever made your heart race the way he did, and if you were going to give a piece of yourself away to anyone, you wanted it to be him. The first boy you had ever really, truly loved. In an attempt to show him just how serious you were, you reached down, grabbing the edge of your shirt and slowly pulling it up over your head so you were left only with your bra.

His eyes widened, then he leaned down to kiss you again. Now, his kisses were getting rougher, more aggressive, like you had woken something up inside of him. His hand roamed down to the side of your thigh, as his lips moved to attach themselves to your neck. “I need you to tell me. Tell me you’re sure about this.” He mumbled against your skin in between kisses.

You grabbed a hold of the sides of his face, pulling him away and forcing him to look at you. You pressed one more kiss against his lips, then said the magic words.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

YOU HAD NEVER BEEN A BIG FAN OF AUGUST. It was the last month of summer, and usually the month that school started back up again. It was like the Sunday of the year--sure, it was still a part of your break, but it was also when the dread of returning to stupid school set in. You didn’t like it when you were a kid, and you didn’t like it now.

Well, before this year you didn’t like it. Now, you were starting to like it. And that’s because you and Yeonjun officially became a couple on the first day of August. You had probably spent way too much time with him in the last week, but you didn’t care. You were in the honeymoon phase, where you just wanted to be beside him constantly.

Your days were spent wandering around town, whether it be eating lunch together at different restaurants, or going for walks along the beach, and splashing each other with the ocean water as you swam. And your nights were spent twisted in bedsheets, and filled with pillow talk that stretched into the early hours of the mornings.

It’s safe to say you were absolutely head over heels for Choi Yeonjun. If he was a bright, blazing flame, then you were like a moth, unable to put up a fight as you found yourself drawn to him.

The problem with the honeymoon phase, though, is that it will always come to an end.

On Saturday, you were rudely awakened by the sun rising and flooding Yeonjun’s room with light. You groaned, trying to roll away from the light, but his arm was wrapped firmly around your waist, and there was no chance you were going anywhere.

“Yeonjun?” You called out weakly, and draped one of your arms over your eyes in an attempt to block out the light.

He hummed against your neck.

“Jun, wake up. I need to close the curtain.” You whined, trying to shake yourself out of his grip.

“No… Stay here.” He grumbled, and buried his face deeper into your neck. You giggled softly, but were still annoyed nonetheless.

“Come on, it’s hurting my eyes.”

“I’ll fix it.” He lazily reached down to grab the edge of your waist, then pulled you to help turn you to face him.

Finally, you were able to hide against his bare chest from the sunlight. “Okay, this is lots better.” You mumbled, and scooted closer so you could get nestled against him. It wasn’t the most comfortable position in the world, but it definitely beat having the sun in your eyes.

“Let’s just sleep forever.” Yeonjun muttered groggily against your hair, tightening his grip on your waist to pull you closer to him. Honestly, it wasn’t sounding like the worst idea in the world. You would be perfectly content spending the rest of the day hiding in his room, especially since you’d have to deal with the dirty looks of his friends as you tried to sneak out.

You could slowly feel yourself drifting back off into sleep when the door to the room flung open. Yeonjun was quick to sit up and see who it was, while you weren’t so quick to react. You were starting to grow angry from all the things preventing you from going back to sleep.

“Um, Yeonjun… You need to get her out of here.” You could hear Beomgyu saying, which piqued your interest. You sat up, holding the comforter close to your chest to cover yourself.

“Excuse me?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at his long haired friend.

Beomgyu looked… Scared, as his eyes darted between you and Yeonjun.

“What? What do you mean?” Yeonjun was rubbing his eyes to try and wake himself up.

“It’s…” Beomgyu’s voice trailed off, glancing over at you again, like he was too afraid to say the answer in front of you. “Karina.”

You felt Yeonjun tense up next to you. If he wasn’t awake before, he definitely was now, as he stared at Beomgyu with eyes as wide as saucers. He seemed to understand what his friend was talking about the second the name left his lips, but you were still completely in the dark about what was going on. And you hated being the only one left out of the loop. Which is why you asked the question, even though you should have known better.

“Who’s Karina?”

Stupid. Stupid, you were so stupid! Immediately after you asked it, you figured out the answer to your own question. And the looks on both Beomgyu and Yeonjun’s faces as they looked over at you--the looks of pity and guilt--confirmed it for you.

Be careful around him, Y/N.

“Oh.”

You felt frozen in place as they just stared at you, like they were waiting for some kind of reaction. But, you were in so much shock, with so many different thoughts going a million miles a minute, you didn’t know how to react. Did you scream? Did you cry? Did you slap him? You didn’t know what you were supposed to do.

The only thing you knew of for sure was you needed to get out of there. If you spent another second in that room--in his bed--you were going to lose your mind.

“Beomgyu… Can you get out? I need to get dressed.” You said slowly, your voice starting to waver.

He nodded wordlessly, then stepped out of the room and closed the door behind you. All it had taken was a matter of seconds for the place you didn’t want to leave to become the last place on Earth you wanted to be.

“Y/N, please.” Was all Yeonjun said as you stood up from the bed. His voice sounded far away.

You didn’t respond as you slowly dressed yourself. Through the wall, you could hear voices talking in another room, one of which obviously belonging to a girl. There was no way you were going to be able to go out that way, which meant you were going to have to climb out the window. When you were a little girl, the idea of sneaking out of a boy’s room through the window sounded exciting and romantic. Now, it was a part of your worst nightmare.

Once you finally had your clothes on, you walked over to the window--the same, stupid window that had woken you up earlier in the morning. You hated that stupid window.

“Y/N, I can explain everything, I swear I can--”

“You have a guest, it sounds like. You’d better go say hi.” You said numbly as you opened up the window. You took note of how, like your window in your bedroom, there was no screen. Which reminded you of the night he had hit you in the face with a pebble.

You should have never gone out to talk to him that night.

“Please, baby, just--” You didn’t give him a chance to finish. Without a look back at him, you slipped out of his window, and onto his rooftop. He didn’t try to stop you.

Your entire walk home, you felt numb all over. You weren’t sure how to process what had just happened. All you could do was keep replaying the way Yeonjun had looked at you. The pathetic, guilty look on his face, and his sad eyes as he gazed at you. Even worse, the pity on Beomgyu’s features. Like you were some puppy that had just gotten kicked to the curb.

At home, your mom was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a coffee and reading the book you’d brought along on the trip. With everything that had been happening as of late, you hadn’t really had much time to read, so she had decided to pick it up.

You were hoping to just avoid any conversation and go up to your room, but of course, you never got the things you hoped for. Your mom heard you open the door, and put the book down to look at you.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” She asked, and you weren’t sure how she was able to tell something was wrong, but it must have been a mother’s instinct, or something like that.

You could just lie, and tell her you were fine, but you knew she wouldn’t believe that. Your bottom lip trembled, and you shook your head. “No.” Was all you could manage to get out before you burst into an explosion of sobs. Lucky for you, your mother was quick, and rushed to your side before you could collapse onto the floor.

“Oh, honey, what happened?” She gently caressed your hair, trying her hardest to console you. But, you’d never broken down like this in front of her before, so you weren’t surprised when she didn’t fully know how to help you.

Since you had asked that question, and gotten those looks in response, you had been trying to avoid directly confronting what had happened. You just knew something was bad, and that he had been lying to you about it. But, now, you were forced to finally say the words that had been lingering in the back, waiting to be acknowledged, that you’d been too afraid of.

“I think--I think he’s been cheating on me.” You cried out in between sobs, your body trembling in her arms. You could hardly breathe from how hard you were crying, could barely see through the tears nonstop flooding your eyes. “God, I’m such--I’m such an idiot! I should have known, I should have fucking known!”

“Hey, no. You’re not an idiot.” Your mom said firmly, gently forcing you to look at her. “You’re not an idiot. If he really is cheating on you, then he’s the idiot.”

You shook your head, rapidly blinking away your tears in an attempt to be able to look at her. More than anyone in the world, you knew she would be able to understand what had happened to you. How it had taken seconds for your world to be shattered.

In your time dating Yeonjun, you hadn’t even told your mom about him. She was recovering from her divorce, you thought that telling her all about how you were falling for someone would be insensitive, or something, so you chose not to tell her about it. Even still, she wasn’t asking you questions, like who was cheating on you, or anything like that. Instead, she was just doing her best to comfort you, and be there for you.

“I’m an idiot because… Because I think I still love him.” You whimpered.

“I know you do.” She whispered, and pulled you into a hug as you sobbed into her shoulder.

“I know you do.”

“HER NAME IS KARINA.”

You hadn’t left your room in days. You spent most of your time either crying, sleeping or eating. There was this heavy feeling in your chest, like your heart was physically aching, which was making it hard to motivate yourself to do anything. The fear of running into Yeonjun or any of his friends was also keeping you from leaving.

The worst part of it all, though, was he hadn’t tried to reach out once. You had expected a bunch of phone calls, and to be bombarded with text messages, hell maybe he would show up on your doorstep and ask your mom to talk to you. But, all you got from him was radio silence. You supposed he was too busy with Karina.

You did get lots of texts from Chaeryeong, Jisu, and even Keena wondering where you had been. When you didn’t respond, they took it upon themselves to show up at your house, asking your mom if you had died.

They found you curled up on your bed, watching Twenty-Five Twenty-One—aka the perfect drama to cry to—on your laptop. If even Yijin and Heedo hadn’t been able to make it, what in the world made you think that you and Yeonjun stood a chance? At least Yijin hadn’t cheated on Heedo, though.

After lots and lots of pressuring, you finally cracked and told them what happened. About how Beomgyu had burst into the room, and about how Yeonjun didn’t chase after you when you escaped out the window.

“Okay, but you don’t know who she is, right? How do you know he was cheating?” Chaeryeong had asked you, while Jisu seethed in the corner.

“It was written all over his face. I just knew.”

After that, Jisu told you she was going to go undercover and gather information for you. You told her she really didn’t need to do that, you weren’t sure you even wanted to know any information, but she insisted. Because even if you didn’t want to hear it then, you might want to hear it later.

Which led to now, where the three of you were gathered on your porch, going over the information. You had basically been forced to go outside, because according to Chaeryeong, you were in desperate need of some Vitamin D… The sunlight kind.

“Yeah, I already gathered that much.” You responded, pulling your knees up to your chest.

Jisu nodded. “Right. Okay. According to Beomgyu, they’d been going out for almost a year, but started fighting pretty bad this spring.”

“A year…” You swallowed hard, the familiar feeling of tears prickling the corners of your eyes starting to arise.

“Yeah… They decided to take a break this summer. So, technically, they’re not together right now.”

Chaeryeong gasped. “Wait! This is just like that episode of Friends! I think, I dunno, I never watched that show.”

Jisu glared at her. “Sure. Like Friends. Anyway, Wooyoung said she just showed up that morning, looking for Yeonjun. Apparently, she missed him, and decided to come surprise him, and end their break early, or whatever.”

You stared aimlessly out at the street, holding yourself back from blinking, so the tears wouldn’t spill out of your eyes. “So, this whole time… From the first bonfire we talked at… He’s had someone else on his mind.” You croaked out.

Chaeryeong sat next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I really believed him, too.”

“He’s a fucking asshole. I’m gonna go kill him.” Jisu muttered as she paced back and forth across the porch.

“Don’t do that.” You shook your head, wiping the stray tears that spilled from your eyes off of your cheeks. “I don’t—I don’t want him to know how badly he hurt me. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction.”

Jisu exchanged a look with Chaeryeong, then her muscles relaxed. “Okay. You’re right.” She said with a sigh.

Suddenly, Chaeryeong’s eyes lit up. “Oh, you know the perfect way to do that?” She asked excitedly, sitting forward in her seat.

You shook your head.

“So, Seungmin is throwing a huge bonfire party down at the beach with his friends, maybe we could find you a guy to flirt with, take your mind off of Yeonjun!”

You absolutely hated how badly your time with Yeonjun affected you. Because now, the thought of flirting with anyone who wasn’t him made your stomach churn. “Oh. Yeah, um, I don’t know…”

“We know you’re probably afraid of running into him.” Jisu jumped in. You wondered if they’d been planning this. “But, what if we can promise you he won’t be there?”

You must have been visibly grimacing at the thought, as Chaeryeong was quick to start trying to change your mind. “Please, Y/N! We miss going out with you so much! Just come and try to let yourself have fun, and if you’re still not feeling it, we’ll take you home!” She was practically begging, and Jisu was nodding fervently in agreement.

They were probably right. A night out would be good for you, and help take your mind off of everything. There was just a part of you that didn’t want to take your mind off of it. Some sick part of you enjoyed the pain—not because you were a masochist or anything, but because the pain meant it wasn’t completely over yet.

Maybe it was time for it to be over, though.

“…You can absolutely guarantee he won’t be there?” You looked between the two of them.

Chaeryeong nodded. “Mhm! We will tell Wooyoung and Beomgyu to keep him far away from that beach!” She told you enthusiastically.

With both of their eyes trained on you intensely, you realized you didn’t really have a choice in the matter. You let out a sigh. “Okay, fine. I’ll go.”

GOING TO A BONFIRE FOR YOUR FIRST NIGHT OUT SINCE finding out your boyfriend had been lying to you for months was not the best idea. After all, it has been at a bonfire party earlier in the summer where you had reconnected with him. Now, at the party where you were supposed to be thinking about anything but him, he was all you could think about.

Even when you were talking to a perfectly attractive guy, who was very obviously into you, all you could think about was him. Some guy—Taehyun, you think his name was?—visiting for the summer that was randomly invited by Seungmin had taken interest in you the second you and your friends arrived, and they insisted you go talk to him.

“Yeah, I spend a lot of time at the gym. I’m hoping to start boxing soon.” He was explaining to you as you were both walking along the beach. You nodded mindlessly, swirling around the beer in your plastic cup. “What about you? You in school, or anything?”

“Oh, I study environmental science.” You answered, then took a long sip of your beer, reveling in the way it burned your throat as it went down. Of course, because you couldn’t think of anything else, you couldn’t stop yourself from being reminded of your first date with him.

Taehyun’s eyes lit up. “Oh wow, that’s so cool! What kind of job are you hoping to get with that?”

You shrugged, and took another drink of your beer. Jisu and Chaeryeong were going to regret letting you go off on your own later. “You know, I’m not totally sure. Some kind of environmental scientist or something.”

He laughed, although you weren’t sure why, since it wasn’t meant to be a joke or anything. “You’re really funny, Y/N.”

“Thanks…?” You glanced over at him with furrowed eyebrows. “People call me a lot of things, but I don’t think funny is a really common one.”

“Oh really? What do they call you?” He asked, clearly amused.

“You know… Smart, nice, pretty…” You flashed him a smile, unsure where this flirty side of you was coming from. It was probably a combination of the alcohol and your desperation to get Yeonjun off of your mind.

“Ah, I can definitely see why they might call you those things.” He replied smoothly, and bumped his shoulder against your own. Instinctively, you glanced over your shoulder, searching for Jisu and Chaeryeong somewhere. Although, you wished you hadn’t.

“What? What’s wrong?” Taehyun asked when you stopped dead in your tracks.

You dropped your cup into the sand.

You couldn’t believe the fucking audacity. There he was, with the most drop dead gorgeous girl you had seen in your entire life. You could barely see his face due to how far away he was, and the darkness blanketing the beach, but you could tell he was looking for someone—looking for you.

To say you were panicked was an understatement. The second you saw his face, you were whipping around to face Taehyun. You could feel your breaths start to quicken, and your hand darted up to press against your chest. Hadn’t Jisu and Chaeryeong promised you that he wouldn’t be there? You were barely prepared for a night out without him, much less a night out with him.

“Woah, are you alright?” Taehyun asked, gently taking hold of your arms like you might topple over—which, you probably might.

“I—um, I need to get out of here.” You answered, the all too familiar feeling of tears forming in the corners of your eyes making an appearance. “Can you help me find my friends?”

Taehyun nodded, starting to lead you in the direction of the fire without a question. You raised one of your hands in an attempt to block your face from view. He really was a sweet guy. It was too bad you were still very hooked on someone else.

He slid an arm around your shoulder—likely in an attempt to comfort you rather than to try and flirt with you. At least you hoped that’s what it was. Your eyes landed on Chaeryeong, who was swaying in front of the bonfire with Seungmin’s arms around her waist, and let out a sigh of relief. You were almost there.

Any efforts you made to hide your face from view proved to be futile, though. You discovered this when Taehyun suddenly let go of you, then you heard his body hit the sand. There was a collection of gasps, and you turned to see Yeonjun standing there, flexing his fingers.

He punched him! He fucking punched him!

“What the fuck is your problem?!” You demanded, shoving his chest with as much force as you could muster so he stumbled backwards.

“Hey, don’t touch him!” A feminine voice spoke up behind him, and you could physically feel your face pale. Karina.

“Stop, it’s fine.” Yeonjun reassured her, then turned to look at you with narrowed eyes. “He was fucking all over you, Y/N.”

“No he wasn’t!” You spat back at him as you helped Taehyun to his feet. “Besides, even if he was, you don’t get to fucking care. Not anymore.”

Karina was visibly confused, but you didn’t really care right now. You were too busy focusing on not crying, and instead appearing as intimidating as possible.

“Y/N, let’s just go talk for a minute, please let me explain—“

“No! I don’t need you to explain, Yeonjun, I understand perfectly fucking well. You were fighting with your girlfriend, you were on a break, and in a desperate attempt to get some action this summer, you lied to me and told me you loved me.”

Okay, now you were definitely crying.

“Jun? What is she talking about?” Karina asked slowly, looking over at her boyfriend with wide eyes.

He didn’t look at her, though. Instead, he had his eyes trained on you, lips pressed tightly together.

“See? You can’t even try to tell me it’s not true. Just stay away from me, Yeonjun.” You snapped, and turned away from him before he could see you cry any more.

As you stormed away from the bonfire—heading god knows where—you couldn’t hold back your tears anymore. You were drunk, and sobbing, and overall in the worst emotional distress you never imagined could be possible. Your head was spinning as you stomped away, barely able to keep yourself standing from the way your ankles kept twisting in the sand.

Miserable didn’t even begin to describe how you were feeling. You still weren’t sure where in the world you were going, but all you knew was you needed to get far, far away from that place. Far away from your friends who had pressured you into coming out tonight; far from Taehyun, who was too kind to you for you to be able to handle. And most of all, you needed to be far away from Choi Yeonjun.

Just a week earlier, you couldn’t imagine being apart from him for more than a few minutes. Now, though, you couldn’t imagine being around him for more than a second. All it took was one look at him for you to be overwhelmed with heartache.

“Y/N!”

Of course.

You didn’t have to look back to know who was jogging up behind you. “I told you to stay away from me!” Your voice cracked as you shouted back at him.

“Y/N, you’re stumbling all over the place, let me help you before you fall!” You felt his hands grab ahold of your arms in an attempt to steady you, and for a second—just for a second—you could feel yourself melt into the familiar touch. But, it only lasted a second.

“Don’t touch me!” You screamed, and finally turned around to face him. His expression was wracked with guilt, and you almost felt bad. Almost. “You promised me, Yeonjun! You fucking promised me!” You jabbed a finger into his chest as the words tumbled out of your mouth.

“I know, I know, and I’m so sorry Y/N, I’m so fucking sorry.” He ran a hand through his dark hair, and you could see the tears slipping onto his cheeks catch the moonlight. “I was going to tell you everything, I was—“

“Did I mean anything to you, Yeonjun? Or was I just another conquest to keep your summer interesting?”

His eyes widened. “Did you mean anything—of course you did, Y/N—I mean, you do.” He told you, and his hand cupped your cheek. You didn’t fight his touch, this time. “I wasn’t lying when I told you I love you. I do, Y/N, I love you.”

You couldn’t look him in the eyes. “If you really love me, why did you let me fall in love with you, knowing that you were never going to be mine?”

“I am yours, Y/N! I’ve been yours since the first night I showed up outside your house. I knew that night that I was done with Karina, I just want you.” He was pleading with you, his thumb stroking your cheek as he tried to get you to look at him.

“How—how am I supposed to trust you, Yeonjun? How do I know you’re not lying to me again?”

He shook his head, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth. “I-I don’t know, Y/N. If you just give me one more chance, let me prove myself to you—“

You pulled his hand off your cheek. “No, Yeonjun. I already gave you a chance. I told you about my dad, and how badly it fucked me up, just for you to turn me into the other woman.”

“You are not the other woman, babe, you’re so much more than that.” His whole face was wet with tears, and you imagined yours looked the same. Glimmering under the moonlight, it might look beautiful if it wasn’t for the context.

“I’m sorry, Yeonjun. I love you, I really do, but I can’t. So please just let me go.”

A small part of you wished he had fought for you. If he begged for you to forgive him just a little bit longer, you probably would have given in. You were so desperately in love with him, you probably would have taken him back and one day been able to put this entire thing behind you. When he gave you a defeated nod, though, you felt your heart sink.

“Okay. Okay. But, please, Y/N, just don’t ever think I don’t love you, or that everything I said to you was a lie. Because it wasn’t. I love you.”

Every time he said those three words, it was like a knife to your heart. Every time, your whole summer together replayed in your head, from the moment you two talked at the bonfire, to the moment Beomgyu said Karina’s name. How had it all fallen apart so easily? How could two people who loved each other so much end up like this?

You knew things were over between the two of you. As badly as it hurt, and as badly as you didn’t want things to be done, you knew they were. So, you decided to do one last thing. You stepped towards him, and gently cradled his face in your hands.

“I know. I love you, too.” You whispered, then closed the distance between the two of you.

If ever in your life you could choose one moment to frame in your mind forever, it would be that kiss. Even though your lips were both wet with tears, and you were still a bit drunk, it was still the most romantic moment of your entire life. His arms snaked around your waist and pulled you close to him, like if he tried enough, he could melt your bodies into one, and you’d never have to leave him.

You knew, in that moment, you would never get over him. No matter how hard you tried, you would never be able to shake your connection to him. Even though he had put you through hell in the last week, he had also gifted you the best summer of your life. There would always be a part of you that loved him.

As much as you never wanted to let go of him, you knew you had to eventually. So, you reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, and pressed your forehead against his.

“Goodbye, Yeonjun.” This time, when you started to walk away, he didn’t try to stop you.

That was the last time you saw Choi Yeonjun.

FOUR MONTHS LATER…

YOU HADN’T MEANT TO KILL THE MOOD. Everyone had just finished their finals, which obviously meant it was time to go out and celebrate. Just like every other night throughout the semester, you hadn’t really been in the mood to go out, but Haeun insisted you go out tonight.

“Look, I don’t know what in the hell happened to you this summer, but it’s been months! It’s time to get over it!” She had told you. “Please come do something fun with us! Just for tonight!”

Haeun wasn’t exactly the kind of girl to take no for an answer. Even though you would much rather curl up on your bed and watch a drama on your laptop like you did the majority of your nights since you arrived on campus, you knew deep down you didn’t really have a choice.

Which was how you ended up in some bar on the edge of campus. Haeun and her friends were going off about some girl they all seemed to hate, but you weren’t really paying much attention. You were a bit too preoccupied playing this little game with yourself where you drank as much as you could before anyone noticed and stopped you.

“Did you see her newest Instagram post? She’s so lame.” Haeun’s friend, Choonhee leaned over to show Nari, who started laughing loudly. You had never really liked Haeun’s friends. They were too mean for your tastes.

“Y/N~!” Haeun sang to you, leaning in close so only you would be able to hear her. “That guy over there has been checking you out all night.”

You rolled your eyes, but followed her gaze anyway. Sure enough, there was a guy on the other end of the club, eyes trained on you as he took a sip of his drink. Immediately, you started shaking your head, and Haeun frowned.

“Why notttt, Y/N? He’s cute, and you’re single, just go talk to him!” She whined at you.

“I’m not interested, Haeun.” You took a drink of the cocktail you’d been working on.

She groaned. “Why?! I know you’re shy, or whatever, but you’re about to graduate soon! And you can’t graduate as a virgin!”

You choked on your drink, and she raised an eyebrow at you. “Unless… You’re not a virgin anymore…? Is that why you’ve been acting weird since this summer?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You sighed. Great, now you were thinking about him again. And you did not want to be thinking about him again. “I’m gonna go get a shot. You want anything?”

“No. And you don’t need another shot. Do you think I didn’t notice you downing drinks all night?”

Choonhee and Nari started to quiet down, taking interest in your conversation with Haeun.

“I’m fine, Haeun. I can handle my liquor.” You waved a hand at her as you started to stand up. Your skirt got caught on your chair, though, causing you to nearly fall down. You heard Chanhee and Nari start to giggle, and shot the two of them dirty looks.

Haeun looked at you warily, then slowly stood as well. “Um, I actually forgot but Y/N has work tomorrow. So I think I’m gonna take her home.”

Choonhee rolled her eyes. “Please. We’re trying to celebrate, we really don’t need her ruining the mood.” She said it in a hushed voice, like you might not be able to hear her. But, of course you did.

You heard everything that people said about you. During your last week of the summer, before coming home, you heard Jisu and Chaeryeong whispering about you. Poor Y/N. When you were road tripping back home with your mom, and you were supposed to be asleep, you heard your mother talking about you. Poor Y/N. When you were supposed to meet Haeun for lunch, you heard her talking to Choonhee and Nari. She used to be so much more fun.

You heard everything.

Haeun led you out of the bar, before you got the urge to fight someone. Now that you were outside, with the cool air on your face, you realized just how much you had drunk. Your head was spinning, and you weren’t sure you were entirely conscious. It felt like your mind was on a completely different plane from your body. Still, though, as drunk as you were, you still couldn’t get him out of your mind.

As Haeun started to order an Uber, you couldn’t think of anything else better to do than to pull out your phone. Maybe you would text Chaeryeong and Jisu to tell them you missed them, or text your mom really quickly. But you weren’t able to do any of that. The lone notification staring up at you prevented any of that from happening.

Just your fucking luck.

yeonjun

hey

You absolutely couldn’t believe it. That was all you got? A fucking hey?! After all that shit, he texted you hey? You had half a nerve to smash your phone onto the concrete.

But, before you got the chance, the Uber that Haeun ordered rolled up against the sidewalk. You stumbled into the backseat next to Haeun, who you could tell was a little bothered by your behavior. You really hadn’t meant to ruin her night. Even though she was the one who had insisted you go out with them that night, she still didn’t deserve to deal with you when you were acting like this.

You turned on your phone again to stare at the message.

hey

You hated him. You hated him for waiting until now to text you—you hated him for texting you at all! He should have just left you alone. He single-handedly ruined your night, and probably your whole week with that text message. Most of all, you hated him because you missed him. So bad.

You didn’t remember when you started crying. But you did. One minute you were fine, blinking at your screen blankly. And suddenly your cheeks were wet, and tears had dropped down onto your phone. Your vision was becoming foggy, but you were still able to make out the contents of the notification.

“Woah, are you okay?” Haeun asked, leaning forward to get a better look at you.

“Fine!” You huffed, and wiped at your eyes. Your fingers moved faster than your brain did, and before you got the chance to consider if it was a good idea, you were dialing a number.

One ring…

Two rings…

Three rings…

For eight rings, you sat there waiting for him to pick up. And he never did. Instead, you were sent to his voicemail.

“Hey, this is Yeonjun. Sorry I missed you. Leave your name and number and I’ll give you a call back. Bye!”

Just the pre recorded sound of his voice over your phone speaker made your chest tighten. The phone beeped, giving you the cue to start talking. You could feel Haeun’s stare burning holes into your head, like she was trying to figure out who in the world you were calling.

“Really, Yeonjun? You text me, and can’t even answer the phone? You text me hey, and can’t pick up the phone? What’s your problem? By the way, what does that even mean?! Hey?! That’s all you have to say to me, after everything you did?”

You could feel your voice cracking as you shouted into the phone. Haeun was visibly intrigued by your voicemail, leaning in closer to hear you better--as if your loud shouts weren’t occupying the entire vehicle.

“Whatever… Hey. I guess I just wanted to tell you that I… I hate you. I hate you Yeonjun, so fucking bad! When my dad cheated on my mom, and destroyed our family, I never thought that I could hate someone more than I hated him. But guess what, Yeonjun? You proved me wrong! So congratulations!”

Your head was starting to pound--badly--so you leaned over to rest your head against the window. The few stray tears from before had developed into a full on rainstorm, coating your cheeks in salty wetness and worsening your headache. For a minute, you just sat there in silence, trying your best to keep your breathing steady. It wasn’t working.

After your long silence, you finally sucked in a long, shaky breath, then spoke again. “I hate you because I gave you all of me. All of me. And you--you just threw it all away! Like it was just nothing to you!” By that point, you had forgotten all about the other people in the car with you. Now, it was just you, and Yeonjun. You didn’t care about Haeun sitting next to you, or the Uber driver listening in on the conversation. All you cared about was getting the words that had been weighing heavy against your chest for the last four months off of you.

“You know what I hate most though, Yeonjun?” You asked, your trembling voice barely above a whisper. “I hate that even though you broke my promise, even though you were never truly mine… Even though I should hate you… I can’t. No matter how hard I try, I can’t bring myself to hate you. I think about you, all of the time. Even when Jeong Jaehyun, the hottest guy in our whole program asked me out on a date, I had to say no. Because I knew that he would never be you.”

A breathy laugh fights itself out of your lips. “I sound so fucking pathetic. And it’s because I am! I am fucking pathetic! But it’s all your fault! Because for whatever reason that I still can’t figure out, I love you. I still love you, so much, Yeonjun. Isn��t that just the worst thing you’ve ever heard?”

There’s a tap on your shoulder, and when you glanced over at Haeun, you realized the car stopped. You looked out the window again to see you had already made it to your apartment complex. Jeez, how long had you been talking on the phone for?

“Shit. I’ve gotta go. Um, if you’re going to text me again, do more than just hit me with a hey. Or, I don’t know, call me. You know we’re way past sending each other heys.”

You opened up the car door, mouthing a small “sorry” to Haeun. “We are so talking later!” She whisper-shouted back to you. You rolled your eyes as you stepped out of the car. You’d have to make sure Haeun gave that driver a nice tip later.

“Okay. Goodbye, Yeonjun.” You said with a sigh, standing still on the pavement leading to your apartment as the car started to drive away. “I miss you.” You whispered, and finally ended the call.

Luckily, your angry ranting over the phone had helped you to sober up enough that you made it into your apartment no problem. Your head was still spinning, though, and you practically fell onto your bed as you climbed into it. You were still drenched in makeup, and wearing the clubbing outfit Haeun had helped you pick out, but you were too tired to worry about all of that. You were ready to just pass out right then and there.

Sprawled out across your mess of blankets, you could feel yourself drifting off to sleep. You knew you had messed up with that stupid voicemail, but you weren’t going to worry about it now. That was Sober Y/N’s problem to deal with.

There was a familiar buzzing, though, and you were slowly pulled back into consciousness. Your hand grappled around your bed, trying to locate the source of the buzzing, then finally landed atop your phone. With a groggy groan, you rolled over onto your side, and held your phone in front of your face. Your eyes widened when you saw the caller ID.

Should you answer? Or should you leave it be? You knew if you answered it, you were opening up a whole new door you weren’t sure you were ready for. Answering it was dangerous. If you ignored the call, you might finally be able to start your journey of moving on forever. You might finally have the chance of leaving him behind. Either way, this phone call was a very decisive moment for you. Whatever you decided to choose, you knew it was going to change your relationship with him forever.

So, what would it be? Would you open that door, or leave it shut forever? Deep down, before you even made your decision, you knew what you were going to do.

Your phone stopped buzzing.

It was quiet.

And then…

“Hey, Y/N.”

You smiled.

“Hey, Yeonjun.”

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