#dates and ages are always vague with my guys but i like to have a general sense haha

[rickxation]

Nickname

Sev helps "Rickie" become Cy. I wanted a solid way for Cy to get his nickname and it was just too cute to pass up the chance for his first Rick bf give it to him 🧡

Rating: G

Word count: 744

"All Ricks have a nickname," Sev said, looking at his partner in crime. The two of them were always up to mischief wherever they went. Nothing too destructive, just both living without a care in each other's arms across the multiverse.

Rickie hummed in acknowledgement, they were both sitting in their apartment just lounging around on a Sunday. "I dunno… I-i just go by Rickie, a different name seems weird. I'm just a Rick, I don't know if I need to stick out with a nickname…" Rickie shrugged.

"Babe, you aren't just a Rick, you're so unique,” Sev had turned to him and held Rickie’s face in his hands, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Each Rick is. We aren't just copies of one another. Everyone has grown in their own world and become themselves through countless different experiences," Sev spoke with his voice he always used when talking about the wonders of the universe. He was such a dreamer. 

Rickie hadn't known about other dimensions, or Ricks for that matter, before him. They became partners and lovers with Sev showing him all the amazing things he had discovered about the multiverse. He wanted the younger Rick to really know what life could be like as a Rick with the power to travel anywhere.

Sev fostered Rickie's curiosity and let him expand his mind like a Rick should. The younger had a rough life compared to Sev's path. Rickie grew up in a broken home, his love for science not nurtured like most Ricks had at a younger age. The two of them had an apartment together with plenty of projects and inventions as Rickie honed his skills in science. He had a very strong interest in robotics so Sev decided to give him ideas about what kinds of things he could make.

“Well then what nickname would you give me?” Rickie rolled his eyes with a smile.

“Hmmm, well like me, a lot of Ricks use their dimension numbers and letters to make a name… Yours is S-432…. So…. uh Four?” Sev shrugged, obviously his suggestion wasn’t liked.

“I’m not a fan of being a number, no offense baby. Though you made yours pretty cool I guess,” Rickie put up air quotes around the word “cool”.

“Rude, but noted,” Sev nibbled on his thumbnail, a sign of him thinking, “Well some other Ricks go by their specialty or physical traits… Long Hair Rick…?” Sev brushed Cy’s aforementioned long hair behind his ear and smiled.

“That’s just stupid,” Rickie laughed. He sighed, thinking about what he actually did. He felt like a failure of a Rick. He didn’t have the vast knowledge that Sev had. The older man always reminded him that he was just older and had more experience but it still discouraged Cy that he felt like his smarts would never reach Sev’s level.

“You want something cool, huh?” Sev chuckled and gave Rickie a peck on the cheek, so amused at his partner’s sass. “Well, you’ve been working with robots a lot… Robo… Rick….” He laughed hard at the wrinkled nose of his partner, “Ok, ok, serious now. Umm… well, you’ve been studying Cybernetics right? So how about Cyber Rick?”

“Does it have to have Rick at the end?” Rickie made a face, “Sounds so weird and cheesy.”

“Ok, Cyber then? Hmm, it doesn't sound quite right…” Rickie had laid down across the couch with his head on Sev’s lap. The conversation seemed so silly to him but he couldn’t help but entertain the other man’s ideas.

“Cy…?” Sev looked down and cocked his head, Rickie couldn’t resist smiling at the cute curious gesture.

“That sounds really good actually, I like it,” Rickie nodded with a small smile, “I never gave any thought to my name, in all honesty. I just went by Rickie because people called me that my whole life. I-i guess I didn’t realize you could just change your name if you want just like that.” Rickie blushed a little, it felt silly admitting that. People changed what they wanted to be called all the time but he never considered that he could do it too.

“You want to go by Cy then? We could try it out for a little bit if you want?” Sev stroked Rickie’s cheek and smiled down at him.

“Ya know what, why the hell not? I’ll try it.”

“Sounds good, Cy. Now what should we get for dinner?”

[asahicore]

cold hands - psh (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact

pairing. sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis. plot plot plot what is a plot when you can just have vibes and a vague narrative direction... if you MUST know you go to your brother's hockey team back-to-uni party accidentally matching one of the members with your cowgirl barbie costume. hopelessly romantic sunghoon sees this as a sign that the two of you are meant to be together, but you're impossible to read and soon the two of you settle on an ambiguous secret friends with benefits relationship. unfortunately, conflict ensues.

genre. strangers to friends to fwb to lovers..?? its not an asahicore fic if it doesnt have fluff angst AND smut, brothers best friend, jock x nerd type vibe, slight miscommunication put your pitchforks away and hear me out pls it works out i promise, reader has ISSUES 💜 loser loverboy sunghoon, its mostly in his pov, i know nothing about ice hockey

word count. 39.5k 😂

a/n. inspired by @moonlighthoon's request for the 1k trope event! sorry it took ages to write but i hope you like it and that i met ur expectations!!!! hope everyone else enjoys it too, this is the longest fic ive ever written and im quite proud of it, pls pls pls let me know what u thought <333 shoutout to @zreamy .. good luck with your studies, thank u for beta reading and making this fic exponentially better as u always do ⭐️ credit to @/plutism for the dividers :)

Some men never think of it. You did. You’d come along And say you’d nearly brought me flowers But something had gone wrong.

The shop was closed. Or you had doubts - The sort that minds like ours Dream up incessantly. You thought I might not want your flowers.

It made me smile and hug you then. Now I can only smile. But, look, the flowers you nearly brought Have lasted all this while. - Wendy Cope, Flowers

When Sunghoon falls in love, it usually goes as quickly as it came.

Just to name a few:

There had been Ahn Yujin, whose family had moved next to his when he was twelve, and whose dog got on perfectly with his. His crush on the cute girl next door grew with every walk the four of them took but disappeared the second she ditched him to walk home from school with Na Jaemin. 

A few years later, there had been Bae Sumin, who sat in front of him and always had her hair up in a ponytail he found exceedingly pretty. An appointment at the hairdresser was enough for him to stop liking her, as if his interest in her had been laying in the ten centimeters of hair she had cut off. 

In his junior year of high school, there had been Kim Yerim, a college student that tutored him in Math and English. She was three years older, but that didn’t deter him—what did was the fact that she was dating a college graduate. She showed him a picture once, and the guy had biceps probably twice the size of Sunghoon’s. He thought it was safer to give up on her than to fight such a bulky guy five years his senior. 

The first time it stuck was during his first year of college. She was his coach’s daughter and he liked the way she would smile at him when she came to watch their practice. Sunghoon didn’t like to think about her, mainly because even after she broke his heart, for a while there, he continued to love her. 

So, when he first spots you from across the room at the Welcome Back costume party thrown by his hockey team, unintentionally the Cowboy Barbie to his Cowboy Ken, he tries not to read too much into it. Barbie was a hit this summer, it’s an easy and topical costume, of course there’s a pretty girl wearing the same bright pink cowboy hat he is. It doesn’t mean she’s the love of his life.

Right?

He knows you from the pictures that littered the walls of Minjeong, Yunjin and Chaewon’s apartment last year, from Instagram posts, both yours and your friends’, from your video calls with Jake, who dragged him into the camera’s view. Say hi to my sister, he’d insist, like Sunghoon was a child who didn’t want to greet his great-great-aunt. He’d dip in to say hi as requested, ask how you were, and mumble me too like a fool when you said you heard so much about him and were excited to meet him in real life. 

These are the things Sunghoon knows about you: Jake’s older sister by a year, currently on a year abroad in Rome, studies something fancy like Classics, which he hadn’t known people still did in the twenty-first century, deep attachment to Stardew Valley in first year, rarely seen with the same man twice, very pretty. Absurdly so. He’s also weirdly obsessed over the texts you’ve sent to the group chat he was added to at the beginning of last year—scarce, short, elusive. Never more than two sentences, and always long after the conversation was over. But sometimes you’d send photos and videos out of nowhere, of your adventures or of funny things you saw online, and he always hearted them. He even replied to it sometimes (brave hahas or that’s so cool!s), in hopes that it would make you like him, would make you think, he gets me. 

The two of you have never formally yet because you left for Italy the year he started university. He’s been nervous about meeting you since the first time the group told him about you. 

Now that he is about to, he can hear his heart thumping so loudly in his ears, it drowns out the bass of the music. He’s glad he gets to see you before having to talk to you—he’s not sure he could take in your presence and form coherent words at the same time. He watches you laugh with your friends, the smile lines that form like dimples around your mouth, the strands of hair you keep tucking behind your ear. Then someone joins your group—except it’s not just someone, it’s Minjeong, her denim jacket so often worn he recognises her from the back, and he realizes the people you’re with have been Chaewon and Yunjin this whole time. The three of them have been banging on about you all year, even more so due to the fact that their replacement flatmate was dreadful, a Spanish girl who only hung out with other Spanish exchange students and looked the girls up and down when they tried to invite her out somewhere.

You turn towards Minjeong, and before he knows it, he’s in your line of sight, and your eyes meet. Confusion, then a flash of recognition goes through your eyes. He had been resting his elbow on a countertop, cider bottle in hand and watching you, he realizes, not unlike a creep, but now he stands up straight and looks around him as if you hadn’t just caught him staring. Before he can find a way out, Jake appears by his side and throws an arm around his shoulders, guiding him into the throng of party-goers and, coincidentally, closer to you.

“Dude, you’ll never guess what.”

“What?” Sunghoon says, tone coming out more irritated than he means it to. He’s just had to give up on making a good first impression on you, and he doesn’t even have the time to think of a way to redeem himself. When he dares to look back at you, your eyes are already on him, a small smile on your lips. You probably hate him already.

“My sister is dressed just like you. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you guys came together or something. Hey, guys!” Jake calls out, and all of a sudden, it’s not just your eyes on him, it’s everyone’s. Well, to be fair, they’re also looking at Jake. But you’re only looking at Sunghoon, and he can’t look away from you either, can’t even manage the politeness to hug everyone in greeting like Jake is doing now. He watches as your eyes rake over his figure, taking him in, assessing him, and he suddenly feels awkward in his costume that matches yours, like he’s somehow overstepped a boundary, like you might think he’s asked around about your costume, found out you were going as Barbie and decided to match you so you’d think the two of you were meant together, like he had two minutes ago, and come to the fairly reasonable decision that he was the weirdest man on Earth. But then you meet his eyes, smile a kind, genuine smile, and his whole body relaxes. 

“Hey, Hoon!” Chaewon calls, arms open wide. He remembers himself and hugs everyone, even you, and he has to pretend like this is completely fine and normal, like his hands aren’t practically shaking as his arms circle your shoulders in a two-second embrace. 

You squeeze one of his shoulders, and keeping his countenance is a Herculean task. He feels like those people centuries ago who passed out at the sight of a lady’s ankle. “It’s so nice to finally meet you,” you say, peering at him over the rim of your red cup. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Sunghoon feels the blush growing on his face; he wasn’t expecting so much of your attention so quickly. He takes a swig of his lukewarm cider, hoping if he seems drunk, it might explain his redness. “Good things, I hope,” he says, aware of the unoriginality but unable to come up with anything better.

“Oh, don’t worry, they’ve made you out to be a saint.” You’ve not once broken eye contact or stopped smiling—it should intimidate him, but instead, it makes Sunghoon feel like you’ve known each other for ages and that this isn’t your first conversation at all. He finds himself able to relax into a smile, and manages to meet your eyes for more than three seconds at a time.

“You don’t believe them?”

You pause, gaze zeroing in on him even more intensely than previously, smile turning smirk-like. Sunghoon’s heart skips a beat. Okay, maybe he’s not that relaxed. “I don’t know you well enough to make up my mind yet. But we’ll be seeing plenty of each other from now on, won’t we?”

This is exactly what Sunghoon has been warned about. You at parties, the way you look at guys, the way you talk to them. Sunghoon has been the audience of more than one recreation of such a scene, Yunjin pretending to be you, Chaewon pretending to be your “victim,” as the others liked to call them. Because once you had set your eyes on a man, he had little chance of making it out. Jay prides himself as being the only survivor, although he has to admit it’s only because Jake interrupted your conversation, telling him, “I see you’ve met my sister.” And Jay was not the kind of person that got off with their friends’ siblings, especially since his and Jake’s friendship was only a week long at that point, and he didn’t want to ruin the atmosphere in their dorm for the rest of the year just because his dick had gotten the best of him. His words. Whenever they were all hanging out together and they called you, one of the girls would inevitably ask if you had “turned any Italian boys into men” or if you had been “terrorizing the good men of Rome recently.” You would either roll your eyes or say this was not a conversation to be had in front of your brother.

Sunghoon had been sure they were exaggerating—it takes two to tango, as they say, and it wasn’t like you ensnared innocent men into your trap. They had to be willing, to want something from you just as much as you wanted something from them. He’d also gotten them to admit it wasn’t that frequent, that you weren’t looking for a new prey every party, just once in a while when you found someone you liked. (He’d been very quiet when Jay asked why he was trying so hard to defend you.)

But now that he is on the receiving end of your alluring smiles, he starts to understand how one could fall for you without meaning to. He knows he can’t — Jake probably wouldn’t take to it kindly, and he didn’t want to spoil the dynamic of his best group of friends at uni — but he has a feeling that ten minutes of talking to you would be enough to shake his resolve.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure we will. Jake said you studied a lot, but I’m sure we’ll get to hang out. All of us, I mean,” he quickly adds, lest you think he’s already asking you to hang out one-on-one. Sunghoon would not be that forward.

“Of course. I have to see if you did a good enough job replacing me for a year.” Sunghoon’s eyes widen, and before he can blurt out something weirdly laudatory like “I could never replace you, I would never even try, I don’t know you but you’re clearly far superior to me in every aspect and I could never even claim to fill your spot,” you giggle and tell him it’s just a joke. “If anything, I’m happy Jake has managed to make a new friend that he didn’t meet through me, that loser,” you say, and together, you laugh at Jake’s loserness, a topic that will never fail to amuse Sunghoon, although he’s not faring much better in that department. 

“Like, look at him right now,” you say, jerking your head in Jake’s general direction, somewhere behind Sunghoon’s shoulder—and that’s when he realizes that it’s just the two of you standing there, the others gone without him even noticing. Sunghoon turns around, finding the girls, Jay, and a bunch of other people he vaguely recognizes huddled around Jake. They all start chanting his name as he gulps down a giant red cup of beer, then raises the empty cup over his head in victory and crumples it, beaming at the people around him. 

“What is he doing?” Sunghoon asks, laughing at his friend.

“Jay called him over for a beer-off,” you explain. After a beat, you ask, “You didn’t notice?”

The implications are clear in your tone and in your eyes. In the smile playing on your lips, just shy of being a smirk. You didn’t notice because of me, is what you’re really telling Sunghoon—at least, that’s the impression he’s getting. And you’d be right. He was too busy talking to you and trying his best not to make a fool of himself to notice his friends leaving, too engrossed with you to register the sudden disappearance of four people. Across the room, where people have shifted their attention to yet another hockey player downing a sizable amount of beer, he catches Chaewon’s eyes, and she winks at him. Of course—leave it to Chaewon, to whom Sunghoon once made the mistake of drunkenly rambling about how pretty you looked in your Instagram posts last year, to give you and Sunghoon some time alone, “to get to know each other properly,” she would probably say. Although he isn’t sure that small talk over 2000s music counts as getting to know someone. According to the others, she and Yunjin started dating a month into their second year, so Chaewon has proclaimed herself as the goddess of dating and is now always trying to set people up. Sunghoon thinks she’s just living vicariously through her friends now that she has a Mrs. at home.

Because the filter usually at work between the part of Sunghoon’s brain where sentences are formed and his mouth is apparently on leave today, he says, “I do have a pretty distracting sight in front of me.” He’s immediately both mortified and impressed by this sudden bout of confidence, but then you look down and giggle, actually giggle, the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, and only pride remains. 

“So, Ken?” you ask, a cute attempt to change the subject, taking the fabric of the pink bandana around his neck between your fingers. Sunghoon wonders if you’re going to yank him down to your level, and he thinks he wouldn’t have much of a problem with that. 

He realizes that even though you should technically know each other’s names, you haven’t actually exchanged them, so in a confused but correcting tone, he says, “Um, Sunghoon.” He only belatedly realizes that you hadn’t gotten his name wrong, you were just making a comment on his costume, which he had completely forgotten he was wearing in the first place. Just as he’s about to backtrack and salvage what he can of the situation, you burst into laughter, hand leaving his bandana to cover your mouth as he hides his face behind his own hands, laughing along with you despite himself. 

“I know your name is Sunghoon!” you exclaim. The gratification of hearing you say his name takes away some of his embarrassment. “I’m Y/N, by the way. Not Barbie.”

Sunghoon nods. “Good to know.”

The laughter gradually dies down, but your smile stays the same; wide, bright, a smile that exposes your teeth and turns your eyes into crescents. Sunghoon can’t look away. He’s awash with nerves, your gaze simultaneously planting his feet to the ground like they’re full of lead and making him light-headed. His heart is beating so fast, he can barely feel it anymore. 

The two of you stand there, looking and smiling at each other, like in a cliché movie scene where everyone else at the party seems to fade into the background. He has no idea how much time has passed when you break the silence. “It really is nice to finally meet you,” you say, repeating your statement from earlier, as though you mean it more now. 

“It is,” Sunghoon simply replies, because he doesn’t know how else to express the relief of seeing you in the flesh after hearing about you and looking at a digital version of you for a year. The relief, but also the anticipation of what is to come now that he knows he likes you even more now that he’s actually seen you. And improbable as it sounds, you might even feel the same.

Sunghoon can already feel it. The beginning of something.

You nod towards his now empty cup. “Want a refill?”

Together, you make your way through the crowd of increasingly drunk students until you reach the kitchen, where the countertops overflow with open bottles of liquor of all sorts and paper plates with half-eaten pizza slices on them. He watches your every move as you find a cold bottle of beer in the fridge, a bottle of strawberry syrup in a random cupboard that you had to know was there, and a half-empty discarded bottle of lemonade on the counter. You ask him to tell you about last year, everything you missed out on, and so he does. He knows you’ve probably heard it all from the others before, but you still laugh and gasp like it’s the first time you’re hearing about any of it, all the hockey games they won, Jay getting food poisoning from the sketchy pizzeria he kept eating at, Yunjin almost getting into a fistfight with a man twice her size who was flirting with Chaewon. 

You assemble two drinks and hand him one of them. When he takes a sip, his eyes widen at the refreshing and sweet taste. “Good, right?” you say. “I discovered it on a trip to France last summer.”

“Thank God for France. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever enjoyed drinking beer,” he says.

“That’s probably because you can’t taste the beer at all.”

Sunghoon smiles. “Probably, yeah.”

You turn around, lower back against the counter, and take in the current kitchen population. “We really weren’t very original with our costumes tonight.” Sunghoon, who had not taken his eyes off of you this entire time, follows your gaze. He counts five partygoers dressed in some version of Barbie or Ken, and that’s just the kitchen. He doesn’t blame them—the fact that so many people came dressed in costumes at all impresses him, especially for a party on the 10th of September and not the 31st of October. The social committee of the hockey team just seems to really love themed and dress-up parties.

He chuckles, then takes a sip of his drink. It’s really nice. “Yeah, but we look the best.”

Your head whips towards him, eyes glinting with something that makes Sunghoon smile, even though he doesn’t know what you’re thinking. “Should we enter the couple’s costume contest?” you ask.

At the mention of couple, his eyes widen, his brain tricking him into thinking you’ve asked him out for a second. But when what you actually meant dawns on him, the first thing to come out of his mouth is, “There’s a couple’s costume contest?!”

“Mh-hm. The sign-up sheet should be around here.” 

For what feels like the millionth time since he’s started talking to you, his face heats up. “Are non-couples allowed to enter?”

“We’re Barbie and Ken. I’d say that’s enough of a couple, don’t you think?” 

Right. Because he had been thinking of Sunghoon and Y/N, while you obviously meant Barbie and Ken. In the contest, it doesn’t actually matter whether the contestants are dating in real life—it matters that their costumes match. Sunghoon knows that. He just needed a second.

He grins, deep dimples punctuating his cheeks. “Okay, let’s do it.”

Armed with your drinks, you walk around the kitchen in search of the sign-up sheet. You find it on a wall next to the dining table, which has been turned into a beer pong table for tonight’s festivities, and the sheet is almost filled with names already. Sunghoon can only hope that by midnight, when the contest is set to take place, most participants will have had too much to drink to remember it. You write your names on the list, and Sunghoon likes seeing his name in your handwriting so much he almost wants to take a picture.

“There you guys are!”

You both turn around to find Jake stumbling towards you, clearly more intoxicated than when he had left you half-an-hour ago. He rests his arms on your shoulders, forcing Sunghoon down to his height and making you stumble forwards from the sudden added weight. “I’ve been looking all over for you- You’re entering the contest?!”

For a split second, Sunghoon is scared he’s going to get scolded by Jake for trying to hit on his sister, but surprisingly, it’s you he narrows his eyes at. “Y/N, what are you roping my little Hoonie into?”

Sunghoon groans, face perpetually red at this point. Leave it to Jake to make him seem like a total loser. 

You frown at your brother. “I’m not roping your little Hoonie into anything.” Sunghoon wants to bury himself alive. “We agreed on doing it together. Right?” you ask, turning towards Sunghoon and batting your eyelashes at him. It makes him feel a bit better.

He turns back to Jake. “Right. We’re just joining forces to crush the competition.”

Jake scoffs. “As if.” He snatches the pen from your hands and underlines his name as well as Kazuha’s, the girl he came with tonight, three thick black lines that almost erases the names underneath them. “You can’t beat the hockey player and cheerleader combo.”

“Those aren’t even costumes, you guys are a hockey player and a cheerleader,” you protest.

“So?” Jake simply retorts, more attitude in his tone than he would have were he sober.

“So, that defeats the whole purpose of a costume contest.”

Jake knocks on your cowboy hat, and you immediately put it back in place, glaring at him. “As if Barbie was the greatest costume ever. Whatever, let’s just play beer pong so I can defeat you guys twice in one night.”

“You’re on, Sim.”

“You’re going down, Sim.”

Sunghoon had just been watching your back-and-forth amusedly when you grab his hand, leading him to the side of the table opposite Jake. His fingers tingle under your touch, but just like that, it’s gone. He’d rather keep on holding your hand than play this stupid game, but he isn’t opposed to taking Jake’s ego down a notch, either. The boy can barely stand straight, anyway, so it probably won’t be a very tough match.

Some guy he doesn’t recognize in a striped black-and-white referee t-shirt fills most cups with beer and a couple on each side with shots of vodka—he’s so earnest, Sunghoon isn’t sure whether he’s just taking his costume-slash-role very seriously or if he has genuinely been hired to look over the beer pong matches of the night. Some order in the brutish world of college parties, Sunghoon guesses.

Minjeong, Yunjin, Chaewon and Jay appear then, exchanging a quick look at the sight of you and Sunghoon together. The two former join your team, while the two latter join Jake’s, as well as other people that Sunghoon vaguely recognizes from other parties. But by the simple action of getting behind him, they become his most trusted allies for at least this part of the night.

You’re a terrible shot, but Sunghoon makes up for it by scoring almost every round. In his defense, he only misses when you come up close to him and whisper in his ear which cup he should go for. Your breath tickles his (oddly sensitive) ears and the combined scents of the strawberry and lemonade on your tongue and your delicate perfume make his head spin. He can barely think straight, so his aim is naturally thrown off—other than that, he makes Jay drink a healthy amount of beer. He almost feels bad for his friend, but he’d arrived late at the party and needed to quickly catch up with everyone’s level of ebriety anyway.

When the opposite team is down to their last cup, a lightning bolt of luck strikes you, and your ball disappears straight into the vodka-filled cup that Jake now has the honor of downing. 

Sunghoon gives you no time to celebrate, to gloatingly pump your fists in the air and point a mocking finger at your brother, because as soon as you make the shot, he wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you off the ground. When you’re on your feet again, you spin around to find a proud-looking Sunghoon beaming down at you. You burst into giggles and high-five him, your palms perfectly clapping against each other, and he threads your fingers together. A current of electricity rushes through him, and for a second, he swears it’s just the two of you in this packed room.

The moment is cut short by the loud cheers of the others on your team as they shake your shoulders and raise their hands for you to high-five them too. Minjeong flips the other team off and Yunjin has to go hug Chaewon and reassure her it’s nothing personal. It’s really quite easy to make college students happy—or devastated. 

You raise your eyebrows at Jake, who’s busy glaring at you instead of accepting his defeat and taking his shot. With a begrudging sigh, he tips his head back and drinks the vodka in one gulp, the cheers doubling in volume when his face scrunches at the bitter taste of the liquor.

“Don’t act so proud,” he scolds you. “Sunghoon carried your team.”

“Maybe, but she made us win in the end,” Sunghoon retorts, putting an arm around your shoulder. 

Jake scoffs, frowning at Sunghoon’s hand placement before eye-rolling his gaze away. “Whatever.” He slides his phone out of his back pocket and smiles as he shows the two of you his screen. “Would you look at the time? The contest is starting soon.” Then, with an accusatory finger pointed at you, adds, “You may have won this battle, but I’m winning the war.”

He stomps away, presumably to find Kazuha before the contest starts, and it’s your turn to eye-roll at his dramatics. You grab Sunghoon’s hand that hangs off of your shoulders, and together, make your way through the crowd again to the garage, where the contest is taking place. All the alcohol he’s been drinking has definitely started kicking in by now, and he finds himself giggling at nothing with you.

When you reach the threshold, still hand in hand, Sunghoon stops so abruptly behind you that you almost stumble. You look back at him, then follow his gaze towards the garage and the sheer amount of people in there. Worriedly, his eyes take in every single one of the contenders. You let go of his hand and stand in front of him, placing your hands on his shoulders and putting on a determined expression. You’d almost look like a parent reassuring their kid before their first day of kindergarten if you weren’t so much shorter than him. “Don’t even worry about them, Sunghoon. We look better than anyone here.”

His eyebrows crease. “There’s like, three other Barbie-Ken couples here. Some of these costumes are so original. And do you see their makeup? Is that even possible?” he asks, staring at a couple in scarily realistic cosplay of Simon and Jeanette from Alvin and the Chipmunks, fur and all. He can’t look at them for too long without getting chills.

You shake your head. “Almost everyone here is either a hockey player or a… hockey-affiliated person. You’re the beloved and talented defenseman of the team and I’m the star player’s sister. They’ll love us,” you say with a smile, watching the worry dissipate from his features.

“We’re like nepo babies,” he whispers. His lips break into a grin when your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I don’t know how nepotism works,” he admits, smiling wider when you burst into laughter. “How do you know if I’m talented, anyway? You haven’t seen me play yet.”

Your eyes rake him up and down appreciatively. “I took a wild guess.”

Not unlike a cartoon character, Sunghoon audibly gulps. As a hockey player since his most tender age, and dare he say, a pretty good-looking guy, he is used to girls flirting with him, and he is even hit sometimes by the occasional lightning strike of confidence that allows him to flirt back (he still can’t believe he managed to call you “a distracting sight” without spontaneously combusting). But there’s something in your eyes, in your smile, in the way you talk—something about you that has his breath hitching and his heart racing. He doesn’t know if he wants to run away and hide in a corner or kiss you right then and there.

Heeseung, the captain of the hockey team, announces into a microphone (which Sunghoon wonders where they got the money for) that the contest will start now, so he can neither kiss you nor run away. Instead, he follows you to the side of the room where all the contestants, including Jake and Kazuha, wait for their names to be called out. There are so many participants, it takes way longer than Sunghoon would like for the two of you to step onto the makeshift stage. Judging by the looks on the audience’s faces, everyone is surprised to see you and Sunghoon together—the hockey community at your university may be big, but everyone knows everyone, and gossip travels fast. No one had seen you and Sunghoon together before, for the obvious reason that you hadn’t even met before tonight. But you could be sure that by tomorrow, as silly as it sounds, word will have gone around that you and Sunghoon had participated in a couple costume contest together. 

At least, you give them something of substance to talk about—as you and Sunghoon pose on stage, wearing your brightest smiles to please the crowd, you stand on your toes and press a kiss to Sunghoon’s cheek. Sunghoon’s eyes burn a hole in the side of your face but you just watch as the audience of drunken 20-somethings goes wild over something as simple as a peck on the cheek. Jake is the only one booing. 

Sunghoon is still in shock when the next couple is called forward and you have to step off. His cheeks are redder than before and he can’t quite meet your eyes. Apparently, he also goes wild over something as simple as a peck on the cheek. You nudge his shoulder. “See, I told you they’d like us.” 

He feels like a fourteen-year-old for it, but Sunghoon can’t stop thinking about your soft lips against his cheek, so much so that he barely says a word as the three judges deliberate. If you notice the sudden change in his behavior, you don’t comment on it, perhaps chalking it up to nerves. He’s glad for it—he doesn’t know if he could handle being teased about it, especially from you. Although he’s not sure he wants you to think he’s the kind to stress over a last-minute Halloween costume contest. 

In the end, you don’t win. He suspects it was a rigged contest all along: the couple in the unimpressive Edward and Bella costume are friends with one of the judges, probably leading to their anticlimactic victory. At least it isn’t Simon and Jeannette who win, or Kazuha and Jake, even less original than the winners. Anyway, Sunghoon couldn’t care any less. With your hand in his as you walk back to the main room in search of your other friends, he feels like the biggest victor of the night. He doesn’t even mind it when his teammates tease him about his costume and how good the two of you look together—the smile you shoot him makes putting up with it worth it. He tries to think straight, but between the alcohol and your proximity, he feels like you’ve cast a spell on him.

Jake stumbles into your group, three drinks drunker than when Sunghoon last saw him, enthusiastically reporting that a game of spin the bottle is about to start in one of the rooms upstairs, because what every college party needs is a middle-school game to shake things up. None of the guys seem particularly interested until Jake reveals that the cheerleaders are playing. 

Sunghoon looks down at you, laughing when he sees your mildly disgusted moue. “Don’t feel like playing?”

“Not really, no.” Your eyes linger on his face. “There’s only one person here I want to kiss, anyway.”

All capacity for thought leaves Sunghoon’s brain. He just stares back at you blankly, lips slightly agape, willing himself to say something but also terrified that whatever leaves his mouth might make him seem like the biggest loser ever. 

You couldn’t possibly mean him—but did you? Was he the person you wanted to kiss?

As these questions resound through his head, your gaze drops to his lips. There’s his answer. 

His heart beating wildly in its cage, Sunghoon decides to do one smart thing tonight and leans in, slowly but surely closing the gap between the two of you. Then a sudden vibration in the back pocket of his jeans zaps through him like lightning and he jumps back, as if startled out of the trance you had put him in. Shame flooding his cheeks, he checks his phone; it’s the stupid alarm he set himself earlier to make sure he doesn’t get home too late. Midnight, Cinderella-style. 

You scratch the back of your neck as your eyes dart around the room. For the first time tonight, you look embarrassed—Sunghoon is in disbelief at how pretty you look even then. “I, um,” he starts, clears his throat. “I have this thing tomorrow morning, so I can’t stay too long…” he says guiltily.

He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but he swears that what he sees on your face is disappointment. It makes him want to take it all back, to stay here with you for as long as you want and forget about tomorrow morning. 

“Oh, right,” you say, nodding. “That’s fine. What thing?”

“Oh.” Sunghoon turns an impossibly deeper shade of red, further resembling the strawberry syrup the more he gets himself in these embarrassing situations with you. “Just… choir. I go to choir on Saturday mornings.” He looks down at his feet like he’s just revealed a secret, shameful part of himself.

You burst into laughter, and Sunghoon is scared for a second that you’re making fun of him, and his feelings are a lot more hurt than they should be by someone he just met. Although, to be fair, you don’t feel like someone he just met.

“That’s so cool! It must be such a nice change from all the dudes on the hockey team,” you say, a sweet, curious smile on your lips. Like you mean what you say. Like you might want to know more.

Sunghoon thinks he just fell in love.

He chuckles. “Yeah. Definitely a nice change. As much as I love hockey, it’s nice to do something calmer, you know. And I like singing. And the cakes the local grandmas bring.”

“So that’s what it’s all about, really.”

“Yep, you caught me.” Sunghoon still feels the almost-kiss lingering, a tension between the two of you that has him on edge. He feels like he’s just missed his bus because it left a minute earlier than planned. The opportunity is gone, and he would definitely mess everything up, trying to kiss you now. So instead, he decides to leave. Whatever must happen, will happen, even if it’s not tonight. You have the same friends—this is definitely not the last time you will see each other. “Well, I should probably head. I have to be up at eight tomorrow.”

“Oh, wow. The choir grandmas don’t play around.”

“They really don’t.”

“Well, see you around then,” you say, a clumsy laugh falling from your lips as you wrap your arms around Sunghoon’s neck, bringing him into a tight but short hug. You also smell good, he notes to himself. Of course you do.

“See you, Y/N.” Just as he’s about to turn away, you wrap your hand around his wrist.

“Wait. Sunghoon?” He’s only half-surprised at the immense relief he feels to hear his name on your lips. Like you, too, didn’t want to part with him just yet.

“Yeah?” he says, wishing the hope and anticipation aren’t too obvious on his face.

“Where’s that choir of yours?”

--

When Sunghoon arrives at his neighborhood’s community center, ten minutes before nine a.m., you’re already there. Despite the seven hours of sleep under his belt, he feels like he could’ve done with three more, and the singular cup of instant black coffee he had for breakfast was both atrocious and useless. But your smile has the restorative effect of two Red Bulls and a power nap. You look surprisingly bright, like you either managed to get a very good night’s sleep or are just the biggest morning person to ever exist.

He hugs you when he reaches you on the sidewalk, tighter than he probably should, but you return it. You smell like fresh soap and sugar. The two of you exchange quick greetings before he leads you inside the center. 

“I made some cookies as well.” You point to your tote bag and Sunghoon’s jaw slackens.

“You had time to bake?” 

“Kazuha made me take Jägerbombs, so I felt crazy when I got home. I thought it wouldn’t be fair on the old ladies if they did all the work.”

Sunghoon laughs. “They’re going to love you.”

You follow Sunghoon up two flights of stairs and into a spacious room with a wooden stage. There’s a snacks table on one side of the room that is almost fully decked with plates and tupperwares of all sorts, and although their contents remain covered by tin foil or lids, the coffee and hot water pots are free to use. Most of the chairs are stacked on each side of the room but a few have been put in the middle, the grandmas sitting and chatting there waving at Sunghoon as the two of you walk in. There are about fifteen people in the room so far, most of them older ladies, but not only. There’s a dad that came with his daughter, a couple of teenagers, and a few other adults. It’s quite an eclectic mix, and Sunghoon loves it.

Minjeong is here, too, which Sunghoon realizes he forgot to say until he sees the sheer confusion of finding someone you know in an unexpected place on both of your faces. She walks towards you, suspicious eyes darting between you two.

“Hey,” she says only to Sunghoon before turning to you, arms crossed over her chest. “And what are you doing here?”

“Hi, Minjeong, so nice to see you too!”

“I invited Y/N,” Sunghoon says quickly, although you did technically invite yourself. For some reason, he feels the need to defend you, even though he knows you and Minjeong have been friends for years now, and Minjeong is just always this blunt.

“I didn’t know this was the choir you went to,” you say to Minjeong.

“Oh, this?” She looks around the room. “It’s only the choir I’ve been going to since I was a kid. You’d know that if today wasn’t the first day you showed interest in it, ever.”

“I came to your concerts!”

One of the old ladies calls Sunghoon’s name from the snack table, and he is glad for the diversion. “Right. I’ll let you guys talk this out.” A hand on your shoulder, he smiles down at you. “I’m gonna say hi to the ladies over there. Be back in a minute.” He shoots Minjeong a look as if to say, Be normal. 

As he approaches the small group, one of them asks very loudly if you’re his girlfriend. They all burst into giggles, blushing and eager-eyed like they’re sixteen rather than sixty. Sunghoon would be endeared if you didn’t look so alarmed and Minjeong so horrified, both of you looking at him before turning back to each other and getting into a very heated and secretive discussion. He is bombarded with a hundred questions: what your name is, where you’re from, how did the two of you meet, are you together? No? But you’re so pretty! And he’s such a nice boy! He answers all of their queries to the best of his ability while checking that your conversation with Minjeong hasn’t turned physical—your arms are now also crossed over your chest, and you look annoyed while she looks like she’s accusing you of something, but at least, punches aren’t being thrown. 

Thankfully, it’s only a couple more minutes until the conductor calls for everyone to gather on stage, and a weight is lifted off of Sunghoon’s shoulders once the ladies’ collective attention is no longer on him. He isn’t sure where they came from, or why they’ve decided to make the choir rehearsal their hang-out spot, but there is always a group of women who sit there and knit while chatting quietly or listening to the songs, and they are sometimes joined by children whose parents are part of the choir but don’t want to sing themselves and apparently have nowhere else to go. Sunghoon had been so excited at the prospect of having you come see him that he hadn’t thought of how boring this might be for you, sitting with sixty-year-olds for two hours, listening to an amateur choir go through scales and sing corny romance ballads—they’re rehearsing for a wedding they’ve been hired to sing at. But as the minutes go by, his worry dissipates when the delighted smile on your face hardly falters. He can’t imagine that his choir is that good, but you genuinely look like you’re having a nice time, and it makes Sunghoon stand a little taller, sing a little louder. Your eyes are on him for most of the time, and he blushes every time your gazes meet, but he still can’t keep himself from looking away from the conductor to check on you every few seconds.   

Once rehearsal is over, everyone gathers around the refreshments table. When you tell Sunghoon that he looked good out there, he stuffs his mouth with banana bread to stop himself from blurting out something stupid. Your cookies are a hit, and so is everything else—Sunghoon would be more than happy to watch you eat as many baked goods as you possibly can and chat with the grandmas, but he has something to ask you. Without thinking much, he wraps his fingers around your wrist, gently pulling you away from the table and towards him. The question that was at the tip of his tongue fades as soon as you meet his eyes, looking up at him like a deer caught in headlights, cheeks stuffed with brownie. You’re so cute that words fail him for a second, and when he notices the proximity between the two of you, takes a small, bashful step backwards. You glance at his hand still around your wrist, and he withdraws it like he’s suddenly been burned. 

A playful smile grows on your lips. “Everything alright?”

He scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. I just, um, well. There’s a bus that takes us from right across the street directly to the beach, if you’re, um, if you’re interested. In going. With me. If you want.”

Your eyebrows cock in surprise, and Sunghoon thinks he’s messed it all up. You shoot Minjeong a quick, worried glance, then seem to think for a second. But when you look back to him, your smile is soft. “That sounds nice.”

An hour later, you’re running around together on the beach—or rather, Sunghoon is running around, and after five minutes of watching him with a smile on your face, he’s convinced you to run around with him. You’ve both long discarded your shoes and socks, jeans scrunched up to your mid-calves, grins so wide, your cheeks start to hurt. The wet sand is hard under your feet and the water cold against your skin. Sunghoon’s t-shirt sticks everywhere you sprayed water on him, and he knows putting his shoes on later will be a whole ordeal, but it doesn’t bother him. Even the gray September sky feels brighter because you’re standing with him underneath it. 

The water-splashing battle quickly has you both out of breath, and Sunghoon is ready to call a truce when you spot something behind him, gasping and running towards it. He turns around to find you picking up a bunch of sandcastle-building toys that must’ve been left behind by some kids. “I haven’t built a sandcastle in such a long time, this is so exciting,” you say, excitement written all over your face. 

As much as he loves seeing the glint of childish amusement in your eyes, Sunghoon keeps looking around in case the owners of these toys might appear out of thin air. “I feel like there’s something immoral about this,” he says, and you stop stacking sand into one of the toys to look at him with a confused frown. “Aren’t we technically stealing from some kids?”

“Sunghoon. If those kids really cared about these plastic toys, they wouldn’t have left them here.”

“What if they come back for them?”

“Then we’ll give them back. We’re not monsters.” That’s all it takes for Sunghoon to give in. He helps dig trenches around the towers you build, carving out small windows on them and apologizing profusely when he accidentally pokes too hard into one of them, destroying half of it. 

The second he notices you shivering, Sunghoon is on his feet, unwrapping the scarf around his neck and laying it like a blanket over your shoulders. “I’m going to get us something warm to drink. I’ll be back in a minute!” he announces before you can even protest, and practically runs to the nearest café. 

He only leaves you and the slightly pathetic-looking sandcastle alone for a minute, quickly coming back with two take-away cups of milky Earl Grey tea and a brownie that he couldn’t help himself from buying. The moan you let out when you bite into it, gooey, sweet chocolate sticking to your teeth, goes straight down Sunghoon’s spine, but he tries not to let his thoughts get too carried away.

“Good, right?” he asks, laughing when you nod fervently. When you laugh too, it’s a sound so sweet, it rivals the decadence of the brownie. “I sometimes make the trip all the way here just for this.”

“I thought I’d be done with sweets after this morning, but this is so good.”

“Better than Berta’s banana bread?”

“Oh, a hundred percent,” you say, covering your mouth with your hand as you speak. “Sorry, Berta. I’ll be thinking about this for the rest of my life.”

Sunghoon hopes you’ll remember him as the boy who’d introduced you to those brownies, if nothing else.

The two of you are silent for a little bit, but it’s a comfortable silence—something Sunghoon didn’t know was possible with someone he’d just met. This was something he loved about the sea: it allowed for some quiet. The crashing of the waves against the shore, the calls of the seagulls, the dogs barking after them—it all meant he didn’t need to fill the space with needless chatter. He could look out at the peaceful water, you by his side, and just enjoy the moment.

“I’m still so amazed whenever I come to the beach, no matter how many times it’s been.” Sunghoon’s voice is quiet when he speaks, lower than usual. It sounds a lot more intimate than he means it to be. You turn your head to look at him, silently asking him to go on. There’s a small smile playing on his lips, a twinkle in his eyes as he watches the water. “The town I grew up in is right in the middle of the country, so the sea is like, a five-hour drive. There was a lake nearby, but it was nothing compared to this. It might sound silly, but being from somewhere where everyone knows each other, I never realized just how big the world was until I came here and saw the sea for the first time.”

“You’d never been to the sea before coming here?” you ask, surprise clear in your voice. 

He shakes his head. “My hometown isn’t far from the mountains, so it’s a huge tourist spot both in the winter and in the summer, which meant my mom had to work even when my sister and I were out of school and could actually go on holiday. We’d go visit my grandparents and aunts when we found the time, but that was it.” He meets your gaze, a smile playing on his lips at the thought of his hometown and his family. “This is the furthest I’ve ever been from home.” 

The corners of your lips raise into a smile too, matching Sunghoon’s. “And how has that been going?”

He sighs. “It’s okay. I miss my mom and sister like crazy, of course, but they FaceTime me so much that I barely notice it. And anyways, it’s also nice to be on my own. Discover another part of myself, and all that.”

“For sure.” 

There’s a slight shift in your expression that Sunghoon catches onto, a falter in your smile and a hint of sadness in your eyes. He doesn’t want to force a topic that you don’t want to talk about, so he just gently eggs you on, in case all you need is a small push.

“What about you? I think Jake mentioned you guys growing up around here, only an hour or so away.”

At the mention of your brother, the smile returns to your eyes. You take a deep breath and think for a bit, but eventually, you start talking. Although Sunghoon’s eyes are on you, you keep yours trained on the sea. “Yeah, we did. We live just up the coast, so we were always hanging out at the beach. In a way, it’s nice having the sea here as well. It’s like-I don’t know.”

“Like having a piece of home even when you’re away?”

Your gazes meet for just a second, the surprise clear in your eyes, but as quickly as it came, it’s gone, and you turn away from Sunghoon once more. “Basically, yeah.” A sardonic smile appears on your lips. “Although the constant reminder isn’t always appreciated.” 

He tilts his head. When you don’t say anything further, he flicks some sand onto your hand and asks you what you mean by that. He looks at you with curiosity and kindness only, eager to know more about you, to let you know that you can open up to him, that he won’t judge you, but careful not to overstep any boundaries either. It seems to work.

“It might sound stupid, but back home, the beach was a place I could go to when it all was a bit too much, you know? Like an escape from everyday life. Where I could forget about all of the pressure on my shoulders.” Sunghoon hums, and you take another deep breath. “I don’t know if you and Jake talk about this sort of thing, but… our parents are barely nice when we do well, and pretty awful when we don’t reach their expectations. So we were like, constantly having to outdo ourselves just for them to say, ‘Keep it up’, or something like that. And if we did something wrong, well…”

You trail off, but Sunghoon knows what you mean. “Yeah, Jake said they barely spoke to him anymore because he decided to play hockey instead of becoming, like, a doctor or something.”

You smile, but it’s humorless. “Yep. They send him money, and he comes home for a bit over Christmas and summer break, but that’s it. I’ve gone home by myself sometimes and they won’t even mention him, it’s insane.”

“He also doesn’t talk about it a lot.”

“I know. I’m always the one to bring it up. I know it’s a sensitive topic for him, obviously, but I still find it amazing how well he deals with it. But me… despite everything, I still need their approval, you know?” you ask, and Sunghoon nods.

“That makes sense.”

You sigh. “I guess. And I’m obviously not becoming a doctor like them. Not a medical one, at least. It took a year of convincing them that doing the degree I’m doing was okay. ‘Cause at the end of the day, it’s still me filling in my university applications, and they can’t actually force me to go to medical school, but I still wanted them to be proud of me. Even if I study languages.” It’s quiet for a few seconds as you both look out at the waves crashing against the shore. When you start talking again, you look down at the sand, picking it up and letting it filter through your fingers. “So, yeah. Jake got a scholarship here, and I didn’t wanna be too far from home, so here we are. We’re so close to home, the sea I went to when I needed a break in high school and the sea I go to now are one and the same. And now it reminds me of my parents rather than making me forget about them.”

“I’m sorry for bringing you here,” Sunghoon says. “I didn’t think…”

You cut him off with a smile. “It’s okay. Now I’ve created new memories. Nice ones. And you know… wherever I am, it’ll be at the back of my mind. It’s up to me whether I let it affect my life or not.”

“Letting go of these things is never easy,” Sunghoon offers. “You also can’t blame yourself if it does affect you sometimes.”

When you look at Sunghoon, your eyes darting back-and-forth between his like they’re searching for something there, he feels himself tense up slightly. He can’t read you at all, has no idea what you’re thinking even as you smile and say, “You’re right.” Even as you silently link your pinky with his, gazing down at your hands with a small smile. He hadn’t realized how cold his hands were until this small touch, so small yet able to spread warmth throughout his entire body. When he speaks, he can’t bring himself to meet your eyes—he’s still so focused on where your hands touch, too aware of the skin of your finger right against his. Such a small, innocent touch. He can’t even begin to understand why it means so much to him.

“For what it’s worth, I think what you’re doing is super cool,” he says. “I’ve always been so shit at foreign languages, let alone dead languages. And packing your bags and going abroad for a year, not everybody can do that. Becoming a doctor might be hard, but it also takes a specific kind of person to do what you do. And what Jake does. It’s all valuable.”

“Now, if you could say that again while I record you to show my parents, please,” you say, making him laugh.

“It’d be my pleasure.”

“What about you?” you ask him after a small pause. “I can’t be the only one who trauma-dumps on the first date.”

Sunghoon’s breath hitches in his throat. He hadn’t even dared entertain the thought that this might be more than a platonic hang-out in case he was crossing a line—but you’ve just called it a date. With just a few casual words, you’ve changed the entire meaning of the hours you’ve spent together. He hopes you can’t tell how flustered it’s made him.

“Well, there’s not much trauma to dump, really. Sorry.” 

You giggle. “Don’t apologize. That’s a good thing.”

Now that you’ve just opened up about your parents, Sunghoon is scared that telling you about how good of a childhood he had might come off as insensitive—but you smile softly at him, holding his hand face-up in yours, tracing the lines of his palm with the tip of a finger, and he starts talking. “So, it was just me, my older sister and my mom growing up. My dad died when I was 2.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It is a bit sad that I don’t have any memories of him, but everyone who knew him said he was a great guy. And my mom’s had this boyfriend since I was like, 10? He’s the one who got me to start hockey. So it hasn’t been that bad.”

“Your mom must be really strong.”

Sunghoon smiles. “She is. She’s amazing. To raise two kids on your own while grieving and not royally fuck up is… well, amazing. She’s always been so supportive of us, no matter what we wanted to do. My sister did well at school, but I wasn’t so good. I never really enjoyed it, but she’s never made me feel bad about it. She didn’t mind that all I wanted to do was hit a puck around.” 

“And you’re pretty good at hitting that puck around, aren’t you?”

“I’m not so bad,” Sunghoon says, chuckling along with you. He’s about to go on, but he is cut off by a raindrop hitting his hand, then another one; before either of you know it, your clothes are soaked through. Sunghoon takes his denim jacket off, using it as a makeshift umbrella for the both of you as you run towards the nearest awning, shaking with giddy laughter until you forget about the chilly rain and the clothes sticking to your skin. When it doesn’t let up for another few minutes, Sunghoon suggests catching the bus back, and you agree. 

The heating on the bus is set on low, but it’s enough to warm Sunghoon up as soon as he steps onto it. You sit at the back in a corner of your own, multiple rows away from the other people onboard. The two of you are relatively quiet, lost in your own thoughts until Sunghoon, after much internal deliberating, takes one of your hands in his and interlaces your fingers together. You look up at him, but he doesn’t return your gaze, eyes fixed on the window to hide his shy smile and the blush slowly staining his cheeks. To his surprise, you squeeze his hand and rest your head on his shoulder. He freezes for a second, unsure how to react to your reciprocated affection, but he makes himself relax into your touch, and starts brushing his thumb back-and-forth on the back of your hand. The sudden storm has made day turn to night a little earlier today, and with the quiet hum of the bus, he finds himself on the edge of sleep for the whole ride—the only thing keeping him awake is his booming heart.

The bus is nearing his stop when the buzz of his phone in his back pocket jolts him awake. You lift your head from his shoulder, massaging your neck as you fish your phone out of your own pocket. Sunghoon, more intrigued by you than by whoever has texted him, watches as the brightness of your screen makes you wince. Once you’ve read the text, you turn towards him, sleepy eyes and sleepy voice as you ask him whether he’s seen “this,” referring to a text from Chaewon. dinner at our flat tonight!!! come whenever. bring drinks. 

“Oh, I forgot she was doing that tonight,” you say through a yawn.

Sunghoon chuckles. “Do you have enough energy for it?”

“I always have enough energy for Chaewon’s cooking.”

You and Sunghoon make a pit-stop at a grocery store to buy two bottles of white wine and the hummus Chaewon likes, then head to your flat. Naturally, questions are asked when you and Sunghoon arrive at the exact same time, but before Sunghoon can explain that you spent the day together, Minjeong’s head pops out of the kitchen door, and she asks whether you ran into each other downstairs. Chaewon is only looking at the both of you, waiting for an answer, so she doesn’t see the very pointed look Minjeong gives you, as if to say Agree with me or else. You quickly glance at Sunghoon then say, “Yeah, we just arrived at the same time.” When they’ve both turned away, you tell him in a hushed tone that you’ll ask her about it later. 

The girls are busy in the small kitchen and Chaewon insists that they don’t need any more help, so you and Sunghoon bring two chairs by the kitchen door and sit as Yunjin catches the four of you up on the most recent drama in her Law cohort. Jay arrives twenty minutes later, but it isn’t another hour before Jake shows up with the excuse that he was taking a nap.

“Someone would think you don’t sleep at night, with the amount of naps you take,” you say.

“Oh my God, I miss when you weren’t here,” Jake replies, flicking your forehead before promptly plopping himself down on the couch. “I was so hungover when I woke up. I had to sleep it off,” he explains as he grabs four cans of beer from his backpack. 

Chaewon always makes a point to ask how everyone’s spent their day, but today, she unfortunately starts with Sunghoon, so he doesn’t have any time to come up with anything believable other than the truth, which is exactly what he does—and when Jay asks, What, to the beach by yourself? under Minjeong’s heavy gaze, he has no choice but to say yes. He isn’t sure why it’s such a big deal that you spent the day with him, or why it needs to be kept a secret, but there must be a reason. He’ll find out later. When it’s your turn, you look straight into Sunghoon’s eyes as you say you spent the day at the library but didn’t get much work done. Everyone ignores Jake when he exclaims Boring! and Chaewon swiftly moves onto Jay.

But you don’t. 

Your eyes stay on Sunghoon, unflinchingly watching him, expression unreadable, and he finds himself unable to look away, even as he feels his face heat up and his stomach flip. Then you smile, a satisfied smirk like you got what you wanted, and shift your gaze to Jay, who’s going on and on about the first six episodes of Lost he binge-watched earlier and wondering why nobody had told him about this “masterpiece of a show” before. Sunghoon is too busy thinking about the way you’d looked at him and pondering all the reasons for it to listen carefully. He watched Lost when he was fourteen anyway.

All throughout the evening, as the seven of you eat Chaewon’s pasta dish (which she made entirely from scratch, and is probably one of the best things to have ever graced Sunghoon’s taste buds), drink, talk, and afterwards, play card games, every glance between you and Sunghoon feels like a secret conversation that only the two of you are privy to. No one except for Minjeong is aware that you spent the day just the two of you until now—and even she doesn’t know what it is you did. Within a day of knowing each other, you already share memories that are yours and no one else’s. Sunghoon is giddy with the knowledge, heart skipping every time your eyes meet, no matter how fleetingly. When you’re all saying goodbye, it takes everything in him not to hug you for an awkwardly long time and to tear himself away from you. 

He can hardly fall asleep that night.

--

For the entirety of the year you were gone, Sunghoon could only nod and smile while the others bemoaned your absence or commented on how much more fun it’d be if you were here (even Jake, after enough wine spritzers, would admit to missing you). He understood that the group dynamics might feel different to them without you around, but this particular set of people was all he knew, so he never minded it. It reminded him of people telling him how sad it must’ve been growing up without a father, trying to be empathetic, when he didn’t know how he could miss something he never had. 

But now that you’re here, he gets it. You add something to the group that he can’t quite put his finger on. It’s in your affectionate gestures towards Chaewon and Yunjin, in your shared sense of humor with Jay (which no one else seems to find funny, save for Sunghoon, sometimes), in your bickering with Minjeong and downright arguing with Jake. It’s a hackneyed expression, but you do light up a room—at least in Sunghoon’s opinion, you do. In your presence, everything feels not only more lively, but also more cohesive, like you were the missing piece of a puzzle. Like a historic work of art that has been returned to its rightful owner. 

Sunghoon just finds himself drawn to you, at times unable to keep his eyes off of you, and the only things keeping him from making a move are his inherent shyness and the eyes of your friends. He doesn’t want to mess up the friendship he has with anyone from the group, least of all Jake, just because he can’t keep it in his pants. He thought of Yunjin and Chaewon, how their relationship had gone smoothly from the beginning and posed no problem to the dynamic of the group, but he had no idea if this was replicable between you and him at all.

If he had to be honest, a big part of him was also just afraid you’d reject him.

Getting a read on you is hard, which doesn’t help. It’s been three weeks since the gang reunited, since that party where you met. The first semester of his second and your fourth year started a little bit over a week ago; Sunghoon sometimes worries that you think there is some big age gap between you and that you see him as a kid, even though, admittedly, two years is not such a huge difference. In those three weeks, there have been many encounters which could be seen as cases of flirting between the two of you—Sunghoon has noticed every single one of them and replayed each an embarrassing amount of times in his head. A hand carefully posited on his shoulder; prolonged eye contact; jokes whispered in his ear at a crowded house party; knees lightly touching at first, then pressed together during movie night. None of it ever fails to make Sunghoon’s heart flutter. You could breathe in his general direction and it’d make his heart beat fast enough to worry a cardiologist, so when you smile at him, it’s a small death every time.

And so he dares hope that his interest isn’t one-sided—although most of the time, he is so stuck between thinking none of it means anything and thinking every single thing you do is a sign that you like him, that he rarely knows what to think. And whenever you’ve paid him enough attention to make him believe it’s not all in his head, you do something that proves him wrong. Watching you interact with other people, he realizes that you keep good eye contact with everyone and that you’re just as touchy and playful with all of your friends. At parties, you hit it off with new people and catch up with old friends without so much as a hint of awkwardness. He watches as you talk to other guys, the same smile that has been making him weak for the past three weeks, directed towards them and not him. Sunghoon assumes you’re either really nice to everyone and oblivious to the fact that it could be seen as flirting, or you just flirt with everyone. 

In that sense, the two of you are complete opposites. Sunghoon, whose entire friend group hangs on the fact that he befriended Jay, who knew Jake, who knew you, Minjeong, Yunjin and Chaewon. Sunghoon who has spoken to maybe half of his hockey team outside of the locker rooms and the occasional party. Sunghoon who, outside of his usual friend group, has managed to make three other friends on his own in the year he’s been at university, because they had been put in a group project and magically hit it off enough to upgrade from classmates to friends. 

Then there’s you, who has to stop every thirty seconds at a party to say hi to someone you know. You, who still keeps in touch with the friends you made in a foreign country, even those who spoke broken English. You, who didn’t make Sunghoon feel like his crippling shyness was a problem when you first met. 

He doesn’t understand how everyone who meets you doesn’t instantly fall in love. 

Or maybe they do, and he’s just one of many vying for your heart. 

Tonight is one of the nights where all he can do is watch from afar as you interact with another man that he desperately wishes was him. With your lower back against the kitchen counter, drink in hand as you laugh with that other guy, eyes never leaving his face, it almost looks like someone has copied your time with Sunghoon at the costume party and pasted it onto this post-hockey game party. All you’re missing is a bright pink cowgirl hat and boots to match.

And yet, it’s his team jacket over your shoulders, his name and number on your back. Sunghoon shouldn’t feel nearly as jealous as he does.

So he does what any good friend would do, and blames Jay for reasons completely unwarranted—even now, days after receiving his advice, and hours after taking it, Sunghoon still can’t help but regret involving him at all. 

Initially, Sunghoon hadn’t wanted to tell anyone about his growing feelings for you—he’d thought that if he pushed them away and kept them to himself, they’d go away on their own. But clearly, they didn’t, seeing as how his stomach always twisted in nervous excitement at the prospect of seeing you and how he could never get through a conversation with you without blushing. So, quicker than he’d like to admit, he’d given in and told Jay about the day you’d spent at the beach and how felt about you now, thinking it was some big shameful secret that would render his friend flabbergasted. 

That was his first mistake. 

Jay wasn’t impressed. “Yeah, it’s been pretty obvious, dude,” he’d said through a mouthful of cheeseburger. It was after hockey practice, and they were sitting in the burger joint near the ice rink that had some of the best student deals in town. Jake was going on a Hinge date, and Sunghoon had lured Jay in with the promise of free food (Jay wanted to go home and game, but all Sunghoon needed to do to convince him was to say “I’ll pay for it”). 

“Obvious? How obvious? Does everyone know? Does Jake know?” Sunghoon asked, growing more agitated by the second.

“Jake is possibly the worst room-reader that has ever lived, so no, I don’t think he’s caught on. But the rest of us know. I mean, you look at her like a twelve-year-old with a crush on his English teacher,” Jay said, unceremoniously cramming fries into his mouth.

Sunghoon ignored the slightly humiliating remark, still preoccupied by the fact that he hadn’t been as discreet as he thought he had. He leant in towards Jay and dropped his voice to a whisper, even though the restaurant was practically empty, save for them and a group of rowdy middle school boys who were definitely not paying attention to them. “Do you think… does she know?”

Jay dropped his fist on the table in sudden annoyance, causing Sunghoon to jump back in his seat. “Now you’re acting like a twelve-year-old.” Before Sunghoon could defend himself and argue that he’s being completely rational, Jay launches into a surprisingly moving monologue. “It’s fine if you like her, there’s nothing to be embarrassed of. Everybody feels attraction towards other people, everybody gets crushes, it’s no big deal. Just talk to her. Worst case scenario, she doesn’t feel the same way, and you both move on, because you’re adults.”

There’s nothing worse than a friend being right about something you absolutely don’t want to hear. Sunghoon did feel like he had been carrying a horrible secret around, but Jay was spot-on: crushes are a very common, very human experience. And yet Sunghoon managed to feel like he was the only one who had ever had to go through this torture. “You say that like it’s easy,” he said, sulking.

“It is easy. You’re making it hard.”

“So what, your advice is just to confess to her?”

Jay rolled his eyes. “See? You’re saying confess like it’s some sin you have to repent for. Yeah, just tell her.”

“Just tell her,” Sunghoon repeated, looking at his friend like he was crazy. Jay just took another bite of his burger.

“Yeah, dude. It’s not even like you’ve known each other for a long time, so there’s no risk of ruining a friendship, or anything.”

“But do you even know if she feels the same way at all?”

Jay shrugged. “She hasn’t mentioned anything,” he said, and Sunghoon’s heart dropped in disappointment. “But it’s Y/N, she’ll be cool about it. And who knows, she might actually see something in you, for some godforsaken reason.”

Jay laughed at his own joke, and Sunghoon afforded him a chuckle. They moved on to other topics, but later, as they waited for Jay’s bus to come, he couldn’t help himself. “Do you think Jake will mind? If something happens with Y/N and me?”

Jay thought for a second. “I think he’d be more upset with her than with you, what with everything that happened with Heeseung... But knowing him, he probably won’t care as long as you aren’t weird in front of him.” He puts a hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder and shakes it gently. “Don’t let that stop you from making a move, okay? You’ll cross that bridge when you get to it.” His bus came then, so Sunghoon couldn't ask for more details about this Heeseung situation—he knew that there had been something between you and him which hadn’t ended particularly well, but no one ever really talked about it so he didn’t dare bring it up. All he knew was that it had been significant enough for Jay to mention it now, and for Jake to seem bothered every time it was mentioned.

He put all of that out of his head for the time being. In a way, he had just received Jay’s blessing; even if it scared him shitless, he could make a move. Perhaps not something as straightforward as Jay was suggesting, but something, at the very least. 

The first major hockey game of the season was that coming Friday. Sunghoon had an idea.

The morning of, he shot you a text. He tried to make it sound as nonchalant as he can, so that you wouldn’t know he spent close to an hour deleting, writing and pouring over a singular sentence. Can you meet me in front of the locker rooms 30 mins before the game? 

That was his second mistake.

You replied twenty minutes later, twenty minutes that Sunghoon spent questioning everything that had led up to this moment.

yn.sim i’ll be there!!

You even got there five minutes early. He was waiting for you, all decked out in his hockey uniform, save for the gloves and protective headgear. He was anxiously chewing on gum, heart doing somersaults inside his ribcage—a grin found his lips as soon as you appeared around the corner, the sight of you alleviating his nerves for a second, then doubling them when you came close. “Hey,” he said, voice soft and slightly trembling.

“Hey,” you simply replied, a smile on your face to match his as he took you in his arms. It was a hug that lasted a second longer than it should, but that also ended too early for his liking.

“Um, I only have a second, Coach will be wanting to give one of his pep talks,” he said when you separated. One quick glance back at the locker room doors behind him, then back at you. The tips of his ears burnt, and he couldn’t stop his eyes from furtively darting between your face and the floor. But he’d come this far, so he couldn’t back out now. He just had to get it over with. “Here,” he blurted out, holding out the letterman jacket he had been hiding behind his back. You grabbed it, eyeing him with amused suspicion at first, but surprise spreaded over your features as you unfurled the jacket.

“Your team jacket?” 

He couldn’t tell whether you were amazed or horrified. You stared wide-eyed at the jacket, at its dark green sleeves, at the four letters of his last name and the huge number 8 embroidered onto the back. Your surprise faded back into what he thought — what he hoped — was excitement as you looked at him. He scratched the back of his neck, feeling his face flush red. “Yeah, I just, you know… It’s the first big game of the year, and I thought it’d bring me good luck if a pretty girl was wearing my name…” he explained, repeating the words he’d practiced over and over, voice turning into more and more of a mumble as he spoke. He had planned on speaking with more confidence, but now, the fact that he could speak at all felt like a miracle.

A light giggle spilled out of your mouth. Sunghoon immediately took it for mockery and regretted every decision that had led him here. “Sorry, it was a silly idea, you don’t have to wear it if you don’t like it,” he said, reaching for the jacket. But you were quicker than him, hugging the thick bundle of fabric to your chest as you now beamed at him.

“Are you kidding? I love it,” you said, shrugging off your jacket and replacing it with his.

First, relief flooded his body, then pride and excitement — as you spun around and showed the jacket off — at seeing his name on your back, and his attempt at making a move being successful. At least, he thought it was clear what he meant by giving you his jacket to wear at his game—he could only hope you understood. “Well… I’m glad.” Your eyes met, and you both chuckled softly, gazes holding each other’s for a second too long. 

Two weeks ago, Sunghoon still would’ve been able to convince himself this was a fluke; that this was just another one of his crushes that a gentle breeze could blow away. Because after all, when Sunghoon fell in love, it usually went as quickly as it came. But at that moment, in front of the locker rooms, his mind solely on you and not the opening game of the season, he realized this was something else entirely. And whatever it was, he hadn’t felt it in a good long while.

He was terrified—but infinitely excited, too.

“Okay, I should probably head back in now,” he forced himself to say, but made no move to go.

“Okay.”

He paused. “Will you be cheering me on?”

Your smile widened. “Of course.”

He nodded slowly, upper body starting to turn away but feet still firmly planted on the ground. “Okay.” 

Another second passed, and just as he was about to actually walk away, you grabbed his hand. Before he could compute what was happening, you lifted your head and pressed a small kiss to his cheek. His hand was still in yours when you took a step back, and for once, it was you who looked sheepishly at the floor. “For good luck,” you explained. He had no time to reply—you were already walking away, only looking back once to wave and shoo him in the direction of the locker room. He chuckled and nodded, but waited until you were out of sight to head back into the locker room.

Inside the locker room, everyone was too focused on getting their head in the game to notice his giddy smile. Your lips had been warm and soft against his cheeks, a welcome repeat of that time at the costume party, but the quickness of it all had only made him want more. From that very first night he’d met you, the question of how your lips would feel on his had scarcely left his mind. This brought him a step closer to getting an answer, but also made his curiosity grow tenfold.

Thankfully, by the time his coach gathered them around for a last minute pep talk, he’d managed to put the distracting thoughts of you out of his head, at least temporarily—he’d need to play well, for himself and his team mostly, but impressing you was also a priority. 

As the captain, Heeseung said a few words. He reminded the team of how important this match was and went over the main strategy points. For the time being, Sunghoon was able to forget about his arguably unfounded resentment against the older boy and whatever it was he had to do with you. This was not the time for jealousy over someone he had no right to feel jealous over. 

A few minutes later, his members and those of the opposing team poured out onto the rink for warm-up. Sunghoon searched the crowd for your face—when he found it, you were already smiling wide and waving at him. His heart did something funny, but Jay punched his shoulder pad and he remembered what he was there for. He could get lost in the eyes of a pretty girl later, specifically when he’d destroyed the other team and shown her how good of a hockey player he was.

Every now and then as he skirted around the rink and did his stretches, he stole glances at you. They didn't last long, because every single time, you’d already be looking, as if your eyes never strayed from him. Knowing you were watching made him nervous at first, but by the end of warm-up, mainly because he didn’t have much of a choice, he’d turned those nerves into an ever stronger will to do well.

The moment the referee blew the whistle, and for the hour that followed, Sunghoon was locked in on one thing and one thing only: winning. He was only competitive when it came to hockey—he didn’t care about dying in an online battle game or losing to Jake at beer pong, but once he was on the rink, he had to win. Pride surged through him and filled every crevice of his aching limbs whenever he or one of his team members scored, and the feeling that came with a victory, with hugging his teammates in celebration or hearing the crowd cheer for them, was like nothing else he’d ever known. The other side of that coin meant that any loss was a tremendous disappointment. Getting beat at an important game could put him in a week-long funk. His sister had once carefully hinted at his self-esteem relying too much on his hockey performance, and although his first reaction had been to dismiss her, he knew she had poked at some truth there. But what could he do—on particularly lonely nights, he truly thought hockey was all he had going for him. 

To his overthinking nature, becoming so single-minded the second the whistle blows was a relief, a break from the stress of daily life. He didn’t have to worry about his next deadline or about what the guys on the team thought of him or about the inevitable phone call to his mom asking for more money for groceries. It was respite from the thoughts surrounding you that plagued him: how you felt about him, how you might react knowing what he felt for you, how Jake might react. Why Minjeong hadn’t wanted you to say anything that evening, but why Jay had told him to just go for it. Heeseung, whom he had to respect as the captain and an undeniably talented player, but also as someone who had had something to do with you, whether good or bad. All of it had been wildly bustling around Sunghoon’s mind, but once on the rink, all he had to concern himself with was the puck and getting it in the opposing team’s goal. 

And Sunghoon did just that—he scored the first goal of the game, another one in the second period, then a third during the eleventh hour, breaking the tie between the two teams. He smiled right at you after each one, just to make sure you had seen everything. He couldn’t quite describe how it felt to see you clap and cheer for him, jumping up-and-down, forming a megaphone with your hands around your mouth and yelling, “Go Sunghoon!” all while you wore his jacket. It was a separate kind of pride and satisfaction from the sort he’d get seeing anyone else cheer him on, for sure. 

The other team put up a good fight, getting in a few goals of their own and protecting their side well, but in the end, thanks to Sunghoon’s goal, it was his team that won. He took his helmet off and got his hair ruffled by half of his team, then shook hands with the other team, trying to contain his boastful smile—some ice hockey players flew off the handle very quickly, and starting a fight was the last thing he wanted.

Kids and local fans huddled by the barriers on each side of the player’s tunnel to get an autograph or a picture. People around here were weirdly attached to their university sport teams, and the athletes on teams that did particularly well — namely football and rugby — were sort of local celebrities. Their ice hockey team wasn’t quite at that stage yet, but they were placing better nationally with every year, and so the local interest had grown. More kids had started signing up for lessons, and their parents often brought them to home games. As Sunghoon chatted with men twice his age and took selfies with ten-year-olds, he tried to find you in the crowd, to no avail. He’d been hoping for a thumbs-up from you for a game well played, or even a hug, but you were nowhere in sight.

It wasn’t until half-an-hour later, after saying bye to all the fans that had waited after the game for them, listening to Heeseung and their coach congratulate them (but also remind them to not take anything for granted), showering and changing, that he got to check his phone.

chaewon we going k-bbq! u guys played well see u later at da party!!!!

Disappointment only had a second to sink to the bottom of his stomach. He’d barely finished reading the text when he was hoisted up by the shoulders. Two of his senior teammates, Soobin and Beomgyu, marched him towards the exit. “We are getting you wasted tonight, Park,” Beomgyu announced, a wide grin on his lips.

“I have a good feeling about this season,” Soobin added. Sunghoon looked back to find Jay and Jake simply shrugging and laughing at him.

Indeed, the second they got to the dorm where tonight’s party would be taking place, a beer was thrusted in his hand. It was only 7 p.m., still light outside, but that didn’t stop the team nor their friends that had come to the game. They sipped beer like it was water, so much so that two hours later, when the party started to grow, Sunghoon was already quite inebriated. It didn’t help that his cup was never empty for too long, and that he had the reassurance of being in his own dorm—it was the closest student building to the ice rink, and so was one of the prime spots for hockey parties. He could get as drunk as he wanted — or as Beomgyu wanted — and still get home in less than a minute. 

He somehow ended up in the corridor, part of a nonsensical conversation about candle-making with two guys he had recognized from one of his Phys Ed classes but could not for the life of him remember the names of. One had shared that candle-making was a big hobby of his, and it had made Sunghoon and the other unknown man lose their minds—Sunghoon had never realized how curious about candle-making he was, but he couldn’t stop asking questions. It sounded great. Maybe he’d have to pick up candle-making, too. 

Eventually, he headed back to the kitchen for a new drink. For the nth time this evening, he thought of texting you, then immediately thought against it. He wanted to know when you’d get here, but he didn’t want you to know that he wanted to know—although as the night deepened and his intoxication rose, he could remember less and less why that would be such a bad thing. He stepped into the kitchen, and going from the brightly-lit corridor to the dark kitchen with flashing neon lights made him so dizzy that he made a beeline for the couch, needing to sit down for a second.

And that was when he saw you.

Lower back against the counter, talking with a guy he’s never seen in his life. You look like you’re having fun—smiling, laughing, keeping eye contact with that guy. You’re still wearing his jacket. It should probably reassure him—his name is literally on you, what does it matter that you’re speaking to someone else? But instead, all he can think is that wearing his jacket must mean nothing to you. What was basically a confession from him seems to have fallen on deaf ears.

His friends’ words over the past year come back to him—how much you flirt with people, how it wasn’t a rare occurrence for you to go home with a guy after a party and never speak of him ever again. Was this what was happening here?

He knows it’s unreasonable, but in his drunken state, he takes it as a betrayal. Like he can’t believe you haven’t read his mind, figured out how he felt about you, and decided to give special attention to him and him only. He’s only able to take it for so long—two minutes later, he trudges out of the room, walking right past you but not looking your way.

His new mission is to find his friends, but before he’s done much searching, he hears his name being called out. Of course, he recognizes your voice immediately, but he doesn’t quite believe it until he looks over his shoulder, and there you are, face glowing and smiling wide. You’ve clearly had a few drinks, but he likes to think you’d be just as happy to see him if you were sober. He turns around to face you, watching as you narrow the distance between the two of you. He’s not in a much better state—the simple thought that you had come after him makes him forget any sort of resentment he held against you a second ago. When you reach him, he holds on to one of your arms, as much an effort to stabilize his swaying body as an excuse to touch you.

“Hey,” he simply says. He’s always at a loss for words around you, so scared he’ll say the wrong thing that he ends up barely speaking at all. He’s only sober enough to know that with all the cheap beer and vodka running through his blood, his odds of making a fool of himself are even bigger. 

“Hey. I was wondering where you were.” 

“You’re the one who came late.”

“I know!” you exclaim. “I wanted to come right away, but Chaewon was hell-bent on getting her Korean barbecue.”

“She does get cranky when she hasn’t had pork belly in a while.” Sunghoon feels like he’s just won the Nobel Prize when you let out a laugh. “Was the food good at least?”

“It was amazing. So worth getting here late,” you joke.

He rolls his eyes playfully. “I see how it is.” Then, before he can stop himself, he adds, “Then we should go there together next time.” 

Your smile changes, turning from cheerful to surprised, but amused—almost mischievous. You take a step forward. Sunghoon gulps; the gap between the two of you was narrow to begin with. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

Usually, this type of straight-forwardness would have him stuttering, but drunk Sunghoon is a man sober Sunghoon barely recognizes in the morning. “Yeah. I am. Is that okay?”

You nod. “Mh-hm.”

“Nice. Okay.” For a second, you just look at each other. Another thing about drunk Sunghoon: he doesn’t feel like prolonged eye contact will make him spontaneously combust. He actually quite enjoys it. He also stumbles, even when all he’s doing is trying to stand straight. “You’re still wearing my jacket,” he eventually says, reaching out to take the end of your sleeve between his fingers.

You stretch out your arms and appraise the team jacket as if you only remembered you had it on. “Yeah. It’s comfy.”

“It looks good. You look good.”

“You’re not quite sober, are you?” you ask suddenly. 

“Is it that obvious?” When you nod, he giggles, lowering his head in defeat. “The guys made me drink so much.”

“You did score three goals after all. And you looked good doing it.”

At the praise, he stands up to his full height and places his palms behind his head in a victorious pose. “I did, didn’t I?” he says, looking off in the distance with a self-assured look that makes you burst into laughter. He drops the confident facade and laughs along with you, until somebody bumps into him and sends him stumbling forwards. If you weren’t standing there to catch him, he’d probably have fallen flat on his face. But even though he doesn’t fall, he feels all the alcohol catching up to him and threatening to come right back out where it came from. You hold him for a second, and just as you ask him if he’s okay, he says, “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

You sigh. “Okay. Where’s your room?” 

Arm under his shoulders, you let Sunghoon lean most of his weight on you as you guide him towards the elevator. It’s just one floor, but you said you didn’t want to risk the stairs with him. “Hey, who was that guy with you in the kitchen? That guy in the striped shirt? You guys seemed real chummy back there…” he mumbles as you help him out of the elevator. Even on the verge of sickness, Sunghoon is preoccupied by more important things.

“Oh, that was Jaemin.”

“Jaemin,” he echoes, more venom in his voice than needed.

You look at him, taking in his disgruntled expression, and chuckle. “Yeah, he’s having some problems with his boyfriend. He asked me for advice.”

Sunghoon almost freezes in his tracks, but you’re there to keep him walking towards his room. “Oh. He has a boyfriend.”

“Yeah…” He can tell you want to tease him about it, but thankfully, you say nothing. He’s made it clear he had gotten jealous of your gay friend—no need to spell it out in so many words. Once you reach his studio (which he’d stupidly left unlocked), he heads straight for the bathroom, locking himself in, half out of embarrassment, half because he really doesn’t want you to see him throw up. Talk about a turn-off. He leans over the toilet bowl, waiting for the vomit to rise, but nothing comes. He waits, and waits, mind completely empty, head spinning even though he’s sitting very still, when suddenly a knock on the door pulls him out of his stupor.

“Sunghoon? It’s been ten minutes. Everything okay?”

He doesn’t say anything, just unlocks the door for you. Without realizing, he fell asleep like a bored teenager in math class. “All right,” he hears you say.

He’s surprised you’re able to carry him out of the bathroom—if he was a deadweight before, by now, rigor mortis has practically set in. Despite his small student room, crossing it takes you an entire minute, and when you reach his bed, you all but let him flop on the mattress. He doesn’t mind. As soon as his body hits the bed, he feels quite snug, curling against his blanket. You start to unbutton his shirt, probably just thinking he’s already fallen asleep and wanting to make him more comfortable, but your fingers freeze when he starts giggling. Shoulders shaking with unbridled laughter, he feels as delighted as a five-year-old who just said a naughty word and made all his drunk relatives laugh at the family dinner. 

“I know I looked really hot tonight, but can we wait until I’m sober?” he asks, slurring his words slightly and keeping his eyes shut, despite the shit-eating smirk on his lips. You hit him on the chest but it just makes him laugh more.

“Bold of you to assume I’d still hit when I’ve just had to peel you off your toilet seat.” He lets you finish helping him out of his button-down. 

“Wouldn’t you?” he asks. He tries to look at you, but his eyes don’t quite open all the way, and they don’t focus properly, due to a strong mix of alcohol and inappropriate thoughts. Of you, specifically. His body feels suddenly very heavy, his want for you weighing him down into the mattress. The room is dark, your face illuminated only by the light in the bathroom and the glow of the street lights outside. You always look pretty, but your beauty is especially breath-taking right now, Sunghoon thinks. He wants to reach out and touch your face, wants to trace your jawline and know what your skin would feel like against his fingers. He doesn’t realize he’s actually doing it until he hears you inhale shakily.

The expression in your eyes is unreadable, and quickly gone, replaced by an annoyed squint. You grab his wrist gently, setting it back down next to him. “I’m gonna make you some ramen. You need to sober up, and you haven’t had dinner, have you?”

Sunghoon shakes his head. He feels rejected, and it makes him inordinately sad.

For five minutes, he watches as you rummage around his cupboards for a pack of ramen, fill a pot with water and bring it to a boil. His thoughts float back to your day at the beach, memories that he’s preciously held onto for the past few weeks. You running around on the sand, opening yourself up to him and letting him open himself up to you, holding his hand on the bus. That day, he’d really thought it would be the beginning of something new; but as time passed, he became less and less sure of himself. He’s scared it might’ve just been a fluke, and that he’d have to destroy the castle he’d built in his head. He’s seen you almost every day since, but it’s never been the same. And even if your eyes met unexpectedly sometimes, or if you went out of your way to sit next to him during movie nights, he can’t let himself go on with so few signs. Jay was right—he had to be clear about his feelings, otherwise this would go on forever. Even if it didn’t feel like it, the Earth would continue spinning on its axis if you didn’t reciprocate.

“I’ve missed you.”

You pause in your movements. “Missed me? But we’ve seen each other every day,” you say after a few seconds, still facing away from him. Your voice is softer than he’s heard it before, almost unsure of itself.

“No,” Sunghoon whines, frowning. He can barely keep his eyes open—he wishes you could read his mind so he wouldn’t have to explain, but alas. “I miss you—the you from the beach. When it was just me and you. It’s not the same with the others around.”

Silence falls over the room again. Sunghoon wonders if you’re just going to ignore what he said, until you take a deep breath, and walk back to his bed. You crouch in front of him and take both of his hands in yours. Electricity flows from where your hands touch to the rest of his body. He suddenly feels a lot more awake.

“It’s just the two of us now,” you whisper. 

Sunghoon nods. “I know. It’s nice.”

You smile. It might be the alcohol playing tricks on him, but Sunghoon swears there’s a hint of sadness in your eyes. One of your hands comes up to his hair. You thread your fingers gently through it, pushing it away from his forehead, then bring your hand down to the side of his face, your palm cupping it tenderly. Sunghoon lets himself lean into your warm touch. With his eyes closed, the darkness surrounding him makes this feel like a dream—he basks in the moment so as not to let a second of it go to waste.

“Do you wanna do something just us two this week?” you ask softly. His eyes shoot open—he needs to be sure this is really happening. He nods again, fervently this time, and it makes you chuckle. “Okay.”

“Just us two?” 

“Just us two.”

He relaxes once more. He guides your hand towards his mouth and presses his lips against your palm. Something shifts in your eyes—Sunghoon thinks the opportunity to finally kiss you has arisen, but as soon as his gaze drops to your lips, you’re back on your feet. “Let’s eat some ramen, shall we?” you ask as you head back towards the kitchen. Sunghoon tries his best (and probably fails) to not let his disappointment show.

There’s no dining table to speak of, only a low table near Sunghoon’s bed, on which you set down a wooden board and the steaming pot of spicy noodles. You hand him a pair of chopsticks and a spoon, and tell him to eat. Neither of you say much for a while, and Sunghoon grows redder and redder under your watchful gaze. He asks if you want any a few times, but you always turn him down. The silence quickly gets a little too unbearable for him, and he’s got a question burning the tip of his tongue anyway. Now’s as good a time as ever to ask it.

“Something’s been bugging me recently, actually…” You wait for him to go on. “So, at the costume party, right?” You nod. “You said there was only one person you wanted to kiss… Did you mean me?”

You tilt your head, looking at him like you’re trying to figure out whether he’s joking or not. “Yeah, Sunghoon… I meant you. Who else?”

He’s only half-relieved. “So why won’t you kiss me now?”

To his surprise, you smile. “Because you’re drunk.”

Confusion fogs Sunghoon’s brain. Is that all you’re worried about? Is his blood alcohol level the only thing stopping you from kissing him? “But I-I’m fine. I give you consent to kiss me, Y/N.” He’s dead serious, so when you laugh, it only frustrates him further.

“Finish your food, Sunghoon. We’ll see about kissing later.”

He sighs. Later he could deal with. “Fine. But I’ll hold you to it, okay?” he says, pointing a menacing chopstick at you.

“Okay.”

But Sunghoon can’t keep quiet for long—ten seconds later, he’s remembered another question he’s been dying to ask. He continues drinking his soup in an attempt to appear nonchalant. “So what happened between you and Heeseung?”

The question takes you so off-guard, you look like you would’ve done a spit-take had you been drinking water. “That’s-you know about that?”

“Well, not much, that’s why I’m asking.”

You scoff. “Why do you want to know? It’s boring.”

At those words, Sunghoon whips his head up to look at you. “It’s not boring!” he exclaims, perhaps a tad too vigorously. “Anything that has to do with you is interesting to me.”

Finally, the corners of your lips rise. Sunghoon hated the ten seconds in which you weren’t smiling. “Well, there isn’t much to say, anyway. We had a thing when we were in second year, I caught feelings and wanted more, and he didn’t. The end.”

Sunghoon freezes, staring at you with his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth agape. He then sets his cutlery down neatly next to the pot of ramen and clasps his hands together like he’s in a business meeting. “So you’re telling me that he had the opportunity to make you his girlfriend and he just… didn’t?”

You shrug. “Basically, yeah.”

He hits the bedsheets next to him, huffing out in annoyance. “What an idiot.”

“He sure is,” you say. You smile to yourself as you grab Sunghoon’s spoon and try some of the broth. He wonders whether anything lies behind that smile. “But it happened a while ago. Don’t be weird with him on my account. He’s still your captain.”

Sunghoon thinks for a second. “Can I side-eye him once in a while? Or not pass him the puck during practice?”

“Sure,” you reply, laughing. You swiftly move on to other topics as Sunghoon slurps the last of his noodles, asking him about the beginning of the party and just how much his teammates made him drink. He’s recounting the shot contest they held, which Mark won with an impressive seven shots of tequila in a row — Sunghoon hopes the boy is okay now — when your phones buzz at the same time. Minjeong’s name appears on your screen, Jay’s on his, both asking where you are.

“Should we head back now?” you offer, although Sunghoon, wishfully perhaps, detects a trace of reluctance in your voice. “You look like you’ve sobered up a bit, seeing as you’re able to string more than two sentences together.”

“I wasn’t that bad!”

“I should’ve filmed you.”

It’s one a.m. when you head back down, and the party is in full swing. Pop music blasts through someone’s JBL speaker in the shared kitchen, the hallways are more crowded than the subway at rush hour, just as full of hockey fans celebrating their team’s win as students who just wanted an excuse to party, and every window is open to alleviate some of the stuffiness. They probably have another hour left before the dorm residents who decided not to join in the festivities call campus police on them.

Sunghoon is relieved to find that Jake is off with other team members, reaching levels of drunkenness that will most definitely be regretted in the morning. Technically, he hasn’t done anything wrong—he simply let you nurse him back to sobriety after he almost regurgitated his pre-game protein bar and three beers all over your nice shirt. Chaewon and Yunjin are busy making out in a corner, their lack of decorum only increasing when they’ve been drinking, but Jay and Minjeong eye you suspiciously upon seeing the two of you arrive together. You explain what happened so casually that they don’t question it any further.

Chaewon and Yunjin only tear themselves off of each other when a Beyoncé song starts playing, and they drag all four of you to the makeshift dancefloor, which is really just three meters away in the middle of the kitchen. Sunghoon is practically all sobered up by now, but he’s loosened up enough not to feel self-conscious with every step he takes; the fact that you look so happy, dancing with him and laughing at his silly moves, is a considerable bonus. He won’t drink any more, not wanting to risk embarrassing himself further in front of you, and Jay, as the group’s self-proclaimed health guru, probably had his last beer around nine p.m., but the girls, each of them with a cup of suspicious transparent liquid in hand, are getting drunker by the minute—and so is Jake, who has now joined you all on the dancefloor, if his inability to stand straight is anything to go by. Sunghoon assumes you’re also done with alcohol for the night, until you turn to him in the middle of a song no one has heard since 2015 and tell him you’re going to get a drink.

“Okay!” he simply answers, and for a good thirty seconds, basks in the blissful satisfaction of knowing he was the one you informed of your whereabouts. That is, until he realizes a minute later that it was probably a covert invitation for him to come along, which he totally missed. But when he looks over at the counter where all the drinks are, his heart drops—Heeseung is standing in front of you, pouring gin and lemonade into your cup. A flurry of emotions course through Sunghoon, emotions he has no idea what to do with, because he’s not sure they’re entirely warranted. He’s angry that Heeseung is talking to you, after what he did, confused that you’d let him; but mostly, he’s jealous. But he knows it’s only because he has no guarantee that you like him, and that you won’t go off with Heeseung, despite having just talked about how you were over him.

Wait—is that really what you said? You told Sunghoon that what happened with Heeseung didn’t bother you anymore, which doesn’t necessarily mean you wouldn’t go back to him, given the chance. 

Before he can think it over a second time, Sunghoon heads over to where you and Heeseung stand. He places himself right behind you, reaching for a bottle of Coke on your side and pouring himself a drink.

“Oh, hey, Hoon,” his team captain says, clearly surprised to see him there and looking so discontented. Sunghoon can’t remember whether they’ve ever been close enough for Heeseung to call him by his nickname. “Having fun?”

“Yep,” he curtly replies, avoiding eye contact with either of you and looking out at the crowd of party-goers instead. He can feel your gaze, heavy on his face, can see the knowing smirk slowly rising on your lips. How was it that you could see right through him so easily?

“Too much dancing made you thirsty?” you ask, taking a drink from your cup and hiding your smile behind it.

He glares at you, more annoyed that his attempt at subtly sussing out what you and Heeseung were doing together was shut down so quickly than anything else. “Yep,” he repeats.

“You guys know each other?” the older boy asks, eyes darting between the two of you.

“Jake introduced us,” Sunghoon quickly answers. To his surprise, this makes Heeseung chuckle.

“Jay, Sunghoon, me… Wow, do you meet all your friends through your brother, Y/N?” he asks jokingly. Immediately, so many alarm bells ring in Sunghoon’s head—the implication that you and Heeseung are friends, the fact that he put himself and Sunghoon in the same bag, and above all, that teasing, almost flirtatious tone of his. 

He’s horrified to find you rolling your eyes playfully and saying, “I have other friends, thanks,” in a tone far too similar. At that moment, Minjeong starts yelling about how much she loves everyone in this room but particularly “you guys,” pointing to Jake, Jay, Minjeong and Chaewon, and “you guys, too!” screaming over the music as she points to you and Sunghoon.

“There’s one of them,” you say, half-amused, half-exasperated. “We should probably go check on her. See you around, Heeseung.”

“Right. See you, Y/N. Sunghoon.” 

Back to no-nickname basis, apparently.

Your group’s indicator of when it’s time to go home is when Minjeong starts one of her “I-love-my-friends-so-much” rants—if she’s that drunk, everyone else must be wasted. Indeed, Chaewon and Yunjin are holding onto each other to keep themselves from falling down, and Jake is unable to keep his head up. You, Sunghoon and Jay herd your friends outside and wait for Jake’s Uber, making sure to get him safely inside and to tip the driver generously for his pains. Jay lives nearby yours and the girls’ flat, and Sunghoon, ever the gentleman, walks you all home.

“Just ‘cause you and Jay might need a hand getting these three home,” he tells you. Yunjin, Chaewon and Minjeong are currently running around on the road, pointing and laughing at random shop names, and Jay is yelling at them to get back on the sidewalk.

“Mh-hm.”

“And it’ll be good to completely sober up before going to bed.”

“Right.”

There’s no use putting up a front with you—he’s an open book and you’re an avid reader. You don’t need to say anything to make it clear that you know it’s just an excuse to spend more time with you.

“You know, I told you not to be weird with Heeseung,” you say, gently punching him in the arm.

“Was I weird?” he asks, knowing fully well he hadn’t acted at all like he usually did around his captain. 

“You basically only spoke to let Heeseung know we’re friends. You were making yourself all tall and looking mysteriously out into the distance instead of at us.”

“But I am tall and mysterious,” he says, pride coursing through him as it always does when you laugh at one of his jokes.

“You’re probably the least mysterious person I know, Hoon.”

Hoon. How much sweeter that name sounds coming from you over anyone else.

“So you agree that I’m tall?”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a grin on your face. A win is a win. “That’s just a fact.”

Sunghoon smiles victoriously. “I’ll take a fact. But I’m sorry if I was acting weird… I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t bothering you.”

“Heeseung is always bothering me,” you say with a sigh. “He comes up to me like this at every party. He’s just asking how I’ve been, but it’s like he’s sussing out whether or not he’s still got a chance.”

“Do you need me to beat him up? Threaten him? Dox him?”

Even though Sunghoon was only half-joking, you burst out laughing, hard enough for Minjeong to whip around and shout, “What are you laughing about?” as if you had offended her personally. At least Jay is there to make her turn around and focus on walking straight.

“I appreciate the offer, but that won’t be needed. I just don’t like talking about it, ‘cause it’s really not that big a deal anymore. It feels like digging up old bones, you know?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “I’d commit grave robbery with you.”

“You-what?”

“Nevermind. We obviously don’t have to talk about it, but I’m curious.”

You sigh. “I guess it’d make sense for you to know about this.” Sunghoon thinks he sees something like panic flash across your features, but it’s so quick and such a rare expression on you that he’s not sure whether he just imagined it. “You know-just ‘cause everyone else is aware of it, and everything,” you quickly explain.

“Sure.”

“I just… I’m sure Heeseung is a nice guy when it comes to other things, but what the girls and I have concluded is that he’s a bit of an attention whore, you know. When it comes to girls. We fooled around for a while, and he never made it official, even when I made it pretty clear that that was what I wanted. But every time we saw each other after that, he’d flirt with me like nothing had happened. I fell for it at first and flirted back, thinking he had changed his mind… but he really just wanted to make sure I was still into him.”

“Looking for validation,” Sunghoon says.

“Exactly. And when I realized that, I stopped giving it to him. I was getting tired of him anyway, saying the same thing every time. But now, I entertain him for a couple of minutes before I walk away. I shut him down before he gets a chance to do it to me.”

“That’s smart.”

“I know,” you say, smiling. “I understand the need for validation, but he won’t be getting any from me.”

Jay bravely handles the three drunkards the whole way home, letting you and Sunghoon hang behind and carry on talking. You reach the boy’s apartment first, and yours five minutes later. But when you reach your front door, Minjeong announces she needs to talk to Sunghoon. “Privately,” she emphasizes.

You give Sunghoon an amused look and shrug as if to say “She’s your problem now.” He doesn’t have time to protest before you’ve bid him goodnight and disappeared behind the door, Yunjin and Chaewon in tow, yelling good night at Sunghoon like they’re not going to see him for months. 

Minjeong places her palms flat onto Sunghoon’s torso and looks right at him—to the best of her ability, at least, considering she’s having a hard time focusing her eyes. “Sunghoon,” she says gravely.

“Minjeong?”

“Listen, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you,” she says, slurring her words. “You know I love Y/N, she’s amazing…”

“Yeah, she is,” Sunghoon says firmly—already, he can tell where this is going, and he doesn’t like it.

“But she’s not the best with relationships.”

“What do you mean?”

Minjeong’s hands drop by her sides and she exhales deeply. “I’ve just never seen her in a committed relationship in the-in the almost four years I’ve known her. She never lets things get serious. She’s just so afraid of being hurt, Hoon, and I-” 

A hiccup escapes Minjeong’s lips as tears start pooling in her eyes. Sunghoon has only ever seen Minjeong cry when drunk—even movies that had him sobbing barely made her eyes water. Even if she isn’t in her right state of mind, he knows it means this must be important to her. He holds her arms and tries to put on the most reassuring tone he can. “But I wouldn’t hurt her.”

“No, I know that. I’m scared you’d get hurt. I don’t want things to become weird between all of us.”

Sunghoon shakes his head. “Minjeong, what-that wouldn’t happen.”

“But it will!” she exclaimed. “If something happens with you and her, and it doesn’t work out the way you want it to, it’ll make things awkward-”

“If that happens,” he interrupts, “I’ll deal with it. I won’t make it your guys’ problem. Y/N and I are adults, okay?”

“You’re like, nineteen…”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t worry about it, okay? It’ll be fine.” He takes a step back and opens the door for her to get in. 

She’s only on the first stair when she turns back around. “But, Hoon-” she tries, though he cuts her off.

“Minjeong, I promise-”

“Just don’t rush into anything, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Go inside.” 

She complies, giving him one last look before climbing the stairs to her apartment. Sunghoon closes the door behind her, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.

--

Sunghoon is on his way home from hockey practice when his phone buzzes with a text from you.

yn are you still up for doing something this week?

He almost throws his phone in the air in celebration, as if it was a graduation cap. His Sunday was spent going back-and-forth between lapidating himself for his drunken stupidity, memories, rough as stones, hitting him in the face every time he thought of what he said and how he acted, and congratulating himself for having finally made his feelings for you somewhat clearer. Hopefully, you now know he isn’t just awkward and silent around new people—well, he is, but it’s worse with you.

She never lets things get serious.

Minjeong’s warnings echo in his head as he types a positive — although not over-enthusiastic, ‘cause that’d be uncool — answer, but he dismisses them easily. Perhaps he shouldn’t; Sunghoon is, after all, incredibly serious about any and all romantic encounters. The girl at the grocery store who reached for the same red bell pepper as him was the most serious thing to him in the world for a good ten minutes; all of his school crushes were of utmost importance to him, however long they had lasted.

So this? This is capital-s Serious. But therein lies the problem; he’s so serious about you that he’d let you not make it serious. If Minjeong is right, and you’re not planning on taking this nearly as far as he wishes for it to go, he can already tell he’ll just let you. He’ll probably be happy you wanted anything to do with him at all. 

He has ways of reassuring himself, of convincing himself he isn’t a totally lost cause. Because when Sunghoon falls in love — and he had an inkling this was what this was — it usually goes as quickly as it came. Who’s to say this time next week he won’t have completely moved on? Maybe this date that he’s agreed to will go horribly wrong, you’ll be rude to the waiter, you’ll spill tomato sauce all over your shirt, and the flame in his heart will be put out. Easy as that.

You decide to meet on Wednesday evening, two days from now. Sunghoon suggests a Japanese restaurant he likes, a place he had gone to with his mom and sister when they had dropped him off at university before his first year, and that he knows is nice enough for a date but won’t burn a hole through his wallet.

Seeing you at the library the day before is a real thrill. Nobody but you knows of your plans—at least not until he caves in and tells Jay about it, who congratulates him with a roll of his eyes and a pat on the head. All of your eye contact feels loaded with the kind of complicity that comes with sharing a secret. As much as he would love boasting about it to every soul who’d listen, this secrecy electrifies him—it binds the two of you with something much more real than before. At least, more real than Sunghoon’s imagination and one-sided feelings. He knows that your text wasn’t in any way a confession of your own feelings for him, but it’s a step in the right direction.

In the few hours before your reservation at seven p.m., Sunghoon spends so much time thinking about the date that he’s almost late for it. He thinks about his expectations, then tries to get rid of them; he comes up with ideas of what your expectations might be, remembers Minjeong’s words, dismisses them, remembers them again; he goes through scenarios upon scenarios of everything that might go wrong and everything that might go spectacularly well. He ends up with less than twenty minutes to get ready, but manages to arrive at the restaurant a minute before you.

When he sees you approaching, Sunghoon feels like one of those boys in Disney movies as they watch their girlfriend coming down the stairs in her prom dress. You’re not wearing an over-the-top poofy purple dress, but the effect is the same—his eyes are glued on you with every step you take towards him.

You grab him by the arm and lead him into the restaurant as soon as you reach him. He’s too busy taking in your appearance to be bothered by it. “Don’t look at me like that,” you chide as you wait for waiting staff to seat you. He’d actually think you were mad at him if it wasn’t for the small smile playing on your lips.

“Like what?”

“Like what you’re doing right now! You’re staring.”

Realization slowly dawns on him; your gazes have made him lose his composure too many times for him not to know what being flustered looks like. He’d be lying if the fact that it was you in this tight spot and not him didn’t heavily stroke his ego. 

“Why wouldn’t I? You look beautiful,” he says, dropping his voice to a whisper so that the approaching waitress can’t hear. Her presence saves you from responding verbally, but as she brings you to your table, you pinch his arm lightly as if to say Be on your best behavior—although Sunghoon would argue this was his best behavior.

You have trouble making up your mind about the food—you want to try everything on the menu. Sunghoon tentatively offers to order a bunch of dishes and share them. “It’s what my family always does at the restaurant, just try as much as you want and take the leftovers to go. We never ate out very often because my mom would spend so much money every time,” he recollects, smiling fondly.

“That actually sounds like a dream. My parents would never do that. It was always just eat what you got, but I’m unable to look at someone else’s food and not want to try it. It honestly should just be common practice to share dishes at the restaurant.”

Sunghoon thinks he could get down on one knee right then and there. Whenever they went out to eat, the boys would roll his eyes at him when he stole bites of their food. But you—you’re like him. He knows he’s prone to over-exaggeration, but he can’t help but feel like if you understand each other on this, you must understand each other at a molecular level.

He had expected a level of awkwardness to your date, at least at the beginning — God knows the moments in which he doesn’t feel like a mumbling fool in front of you are few and far between — but to his surprise, everything goes smoothly. There is no uncomfortable silence, all his jokes miraculously land, even the lousy ones, and you both laugh and talk and share sushi and pork cutlets like it’s the most natural thing in the world, which perhaps it is. His attempts at flirting are well-received and he only turns violently red twice when you compliment him and smile at him in a particularly pretty way.

It’s that day at the beach all over again. Always on the same page, you dip in and out of topics with a synergy he has rarely felt before. Sunghoon realizes it must be the presence of others, rather than you yourself, that makes him feel like he can’t act the way he wants to around you, makes him so nervous. Save for the moments where you make his heart flutter like a thousand butterflies’ wings, he actually feels quite at ease with you, all things considered. Of course, he still tries — and fails — to look cool for you, but he knows it comes from a place within himself rather than because you make him feel as though he has to meet a certain standard. Surprisingly, he can be totally himself, and it seems to be enough for you.

He loves his friends. He wouldn’t trade them for the world. But he’s not sure he won’t have moments where he’ll wish nothing more than for them all to go away and leave the two of you be.

You eat until you can’t anymore and are still left with enough food for another full meal. You only let him get the bill once he’s promised that next time will be on you. If it means there’ll be a next time, he’s more than happy with making that promise. The sun has set when you exit the restaurant. Sunghoon shivers as he steps outside, the temperature having gone down by at least four degrees in the last two hours.

You grab his hand; it warms him right up.

Your apartment is a thirty-minute bus ride away, but Sunghoon offers to walk you home. Anything to spend more time with you.

He spends the first few minutes of the walk worrying about his hand, whether it’s too clammy, whether it’s holding yours right, but he eventually relaxes into the touch. When a particularly chilly gust of wind blows, you drop his hand and hold onto his arm instead, inching closer to him for more warmth.  He only drank lemonade with his meal, but he feels blissfully light-headed.

Silence only arrives when you reach your doorstep. You stand in front of each other, Sunghoon looking down at his feet, you gazing out at the empty street. He knows this is the moment where he is supposed to kiss you. If there was a step-by-step guide on how to date — there probably is, but Sunghoon hasn’t resorted to such loser-like measures yet — this would probably be the moment where it would be written to just kiss her, you idiot. But nerves get the best of him.

At least, you’re there to save the day. You direct your gaze towards him, a bashful smile playing on your lips. “So… are you gonna kiss me now?” you ask, essentially reading his mind. 

He reacts immediately. “Y-yep. Yes. I am.” Heart racing, he takes a step towards you as he rests his hands on your waist. Then he changes his mind, and brings one hand up to your cheek. There’s an eyelash that has fallen below your eye; he brushes it out of the way with his thumb before leaning in and pressing his lips against yours.

In all of his late-night scenarios and daydreams of kissing you, he had never imagined something as good as this. You find your rhythm within seconds. It’s slow, almost hesitant, yet so tender, it makes Sunghoon’s heart ache. As your lips move against each other in perfect sync, as your hands find their way around Sunghoon’s neck, he realizes he should have known — this will not go away as quickly as it came.

Only when you grab a fistful of his hair, making him react viscerally and wrap his arm around your waist to bring you closer to him, does he remember where the two of you are. He leans back, then almost passes out when you chase his lips and press a shorter but just as sweet kiss there. He commits this view to memory—the smile on your lips, the glow on your face, the haziness in your eyes.

“Do you wanna come up?”

“Yes,” he replies immediately, and it makes you laugh. You grab his hand and lead him up the stairs and into your apartment.

“Are the girls in?” he asks as you lock the front door.

“Minjeong is at karaoke with her school friends, and Yunjin and Chaewon are at a dinner party somewhere.”

“Minjeong karaokes?”

“Get enough G&Ts in her and she’ll do anything.”

You turn on a small lamp in your room and take off your jacket. Sunghoon has been in your apartment before, but never in your room—at some point, he’ll spend an hour observing every photograph and trinket in detail, asking you about every backstory, but right now, he’s got more important things to tend to. His heart beats uncontrollably as you shut the door to your room and walk towards him, eyes gazing deeply into his. The corners of your lips rise when you tug at the bottom of his sweatshirt, a clear indicator that you want it off. He wastes no time in obliging.

The air is buzzing with electricity when your lips find each other again. You’re both more confident this time around, and so the kiss is deeper, your touches bolder. Everything happens quickly—one second, you’re standing in the middle of your room; the next, you’re laying on your bed, Sunghoon underneath you. 

“You know,” he says between kisses, “I’d really planned on being a gentleman and not going up to your room after the first date…”

Your lips move from his lips to his jawline, warm and soft against his skin. Sunghoon closes his eyes and lets out a low hum of approval. “I’m glad you changed your mind,” you whisper, lips brushing against his neck as you speak. “And since we’re onto confessions, I can finally say I’ve been wanting to do this since we met.”

This information sends his mind reeling. Not once had he been sure of how you felt about him — he even remembers you saying no to a kiss — and here you are, saying you’ve been wanting to kiss him since the beginning, just like he had. 

“You’re me,” he replies breathlessly.

“Hm?”

“I mean, me too.”

You pause your kisses to giggle, a sound so soft and intimate it has Sunghoon melting impossibly more. “You’re me?”

Unfortunately, he is too preoccupied by you to put a filter between the weird, half-formed thoughts in his brain and the words that leave his mouth. “Don’t question it,” he says, a smile audible in his voice, before moving his head and catching your lips. If he couldn’t stop himself from saying odd things, he could at least distract you from them.

Sunghoon thinks he’s doing a good job keeping himself together, until you roll your hips against his. It’s barely anything, but it sends waves of pleasure and anticipation through his body. His grip on your waist tightens, and when you repeat the motion, his hands sneakily find their way down your back and under your dress. Palms splayed against your ass, he brings you down closer to him. The second you moan into the kiss, he’s a goner. 

After that, it doesn’t take long for clothes to be discarded or for curious fingers to find the other’s waistbands. Your movements are hasty, messy—the tension that had built up over weeks of pining for you, after getting close to kissing you twice and thinking about it a hundred times more, it all comes crashing down in this moment, as his teeth sink into the flesh of your neck, as your hands pull at strands of his hair, as your bodies gently bump into each other. If someone asked Sunghoon right now how long he’d known you, he’d say years, not mere weeks. It couldn’t possibly be real that this much desire had accumulated inside of him — and inside of you, if your broken moans and rapid breathing are anything to go by — in just over a month. 

He only slows down when he has you naked and heaving underneath him, reminding himself to savor the moment instead of rushing it. His fingertips graze down your sides until they reach between your thighs, and he marvels at the way his touch makes you shiver. His eyes are so wide with amazement at the sight of you that he probably looks like he’s never seen a woman before, but he can’t help himself—he always thought you were beautiful, but this is something else entirely. 

His first touch is hesitant, a slow upward motion of his thumb between your folds as if quite literally testing the waters. But it has you arching your back and gripping his bicep, meeting his eyes to silently plead for more. Sunghoon takes that as his green light, thumb circling your clit as his lips continue their work on your neck, on your face, everywhere they can reach. He slips a finger inside of you, then a second one, and when he is satisfied with the state he’s gotten you in, all disheveled and gasping for air, he replaces his fingers with his dick, rock-hard just from seeing and hearing you.

He slowly inches forward until he’s bottomed out, letting you adjust around him. “All good?” he whispers, lips moving against the shell of your ear.

“Never better,” you whisper back, smiling. You kiss him, and the tenderness of your lips on his, mixed with the feeling of being inside you, has Sunghoon’s heart constricting inside his chest. He starts rocking his hips back-and-forth into you, the side of his face is pressed up against yours, head light from the little oxygen the two of you share. It all feels oddly intimate for a first time, feels more like the kind of sex two people would have after years of knowing each other’s bodies. He moves like it’s second nature, thrusts deep and slow, trying to reach those spots that have your hands clawing at his back. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, using his free hand to push the hair that sticks to your face with sweat.

You wrap your legs higher around his hips, the shift in angle letting him go deeper. “Fuck, right there,” you say, voice strangled. Sunghoon doesn’t need to be told twice—he picks up his pace, and already within a minute, starts to feel himself reaching his limit. He tries to muffle his groans against your skin, but with the way your hold on him tightens and your moans go higher in pitch, you seem to be just as close as he is. When you do come undone around him, breath hitching in your throat before you release a heavy sigh, he has mere seconds left in him. A few thrusts later, his orgasm finally releases him from the tension that had been twisting his stomach into a knot for the past half-hour. You’re both spent, but he continues lazily rocking his hips against yours chasing the last remnants of pleasure, wanting to bask in it just a bit longer. He rolls onto his back after sliding out, wrapping his arms around you. You bury your face in the crook of his neck.

His chest rises and falls as his breathing takes its time returning to normal. In a way, he’s almost relieved it’s over, like any longer would’ve actually taken too much of a toll on him. He likes the comfort he gets from having you in his arms as much as the sex itself. “I didn’t know it could feel this good,” he says, the words spilling out of his mouth before he can stop them. He needs more than a few minutes to get his head back on straight and start thinking before he speaks again. You chuckle airily, he chuckles too, and within seconds, you’re both laughing for seemingly no reason. The bliss of such an intense orgasm and the lack of oxygen must have gone to your brain, too.

“Me either,” you say once the laughter dies down. When your lips find his once more, Sunghoon forgets entirely about his exhaustion and feels like he could go for a second round. “Shower?” you ask right when he realizes how sticky and smelly he is.

“Yes, please.”

He can’t keep his hands off of you in the shower, rubbing soap on every square inch of your skin when you could do it perfectly fine yourself, kissing you even when you’ve both got foaming cleanser on your faces. The taste of soap in his mouth is worth the giggles he gets out of you.

Sunghoon reaches heaven when you drop to your knees in front of him, water rushing down his back as you take him in your mouth. He’s eager to return the favor, of course, thumb flicking your clit with a speed and dexterity even he didn’t know he was capable of. If you weren’t already in the shower, you’d have needed another one.

As soon as your bodies hit the mattress, you both drift off to sleep, limbs wrapping around each other as though they had been separated for too long and finally found each other again—not to let go again.

--

When Sunghoon wakes up, it takes him a few seconds to realize that he hadn’t dreamt up last night’s events. He reaches a hand out hesitantly, still half-asleep and scared that you’ll disappear into thin air at the touch of his fingertips. But no—he feels your skin, warm and soft, and he knows this is real.

You’re laying on your side, facing away from him, so he has to strain his neck to peek at your face. You look so peaceful as you sleep—he doesn’t want to wake you up, but he can’t stop himself from wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing his torso against your back, humming contentedly to himself. He presses a soft, quiet kiss to the top of your head, just because he can.

Outside, clouds part, and a bright ray of sun shines through the window, landing right on your face. Sunghoon watches as you grumble and turn around, burying your face in his chest to avoid the blinding light, but the damage is done—you’re awake. He can tell from the drawled-out whine you let out and the way you grab tightly onto his waist, as if it was his fault the sun had decided to shine right on you. 

He lets you settle in a comfortable position. Stays still as you hike your leg over his legs, then slip it between them instead; as you press your cheek against his chest, then bury your nose in his neck; as you wrap your arm around his waist, then move it to thread your fingers through his hair, until you give up on falling back asleep altogether. “It’s so bright in here,” you mumble in lieu of a good-morning greeting.

You can’t see him, so Sunghoon smiles and tightens his grip around you—one arm circling your shoulders, the other, your waist. Skin to skin. “We forgot to close the blinds yesterday.”

“It’s okay,” you say, sighing. You press a kiss to the base of his neck, right between his collarbones, then lift your face to look at him. “How are you feeling?”

This is what it feels like to wake up next to her, Sunghoon thinks. He’d thought about it so many times: what you would look like first thing in the morning, what you’d say to him, what it’d feel like when your eyes met. If you’d be a slow sort of morning person, cuddling in bed with him until the very last possible second, or if you’d be up and about as soon as you woke up. If you’d be grumpy. If you’d want coffee. If you liked morning sex. 

It seems to be a recurring theme that Sunghoon’s imagination never quite lives up to reality. Your sleepy eyes boring into his, struggling to stay open, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck; your skin, so warm and so soft, your scent, so intoxicating he can barely think straight.

You’re better than a dream.

“I feel great. Do you feel great?”

“I feel amazing, thank you so much for asking,” you say, burrowing yourself impossibly closer to him.

The two of you stay like this for a while, talking about your plans for the day and begrudging how little you want to go about them. Sunghoon wishes this could go on forever, but then his stomach growls so loudly, his face turns red from embarrassment. He hadn’t even noticed how hungry he was. 

“You’re me,” you say, laughing, and Sunghoon can’t help but join in. “Is it crazy to have last night’s leftovers for breakfast?”

What Sunghoon hears is that you want him to stay; that you don’t want to part ways just yet.

“If by crazy you mean the best idea ever, then yes.”

“Amazing, because I’ve been thinking about that curry all night.”

“Really? I was thinking about something else,” he says, burrowing his face in your neck and leaving warm kisses there. 

You hum and lean into his touches, leaning into his touches. Chills run down his spine as your nails graze his sides. “There might’ve been other things occupying my mind, too.”

And just like that, breakfast is postponed to thirty minutes later.

--

After that night, Sunghoon forgets how to act right.

His mind has never been so singularly taken up by sex in all of his life. It was already preoccupied with you most of the time, but now that it has more material to gnaw on, it’s practically started to eat away at him. It doesn’t help that you’ve seen each other every day since, or that at every chance you get, you smile knowingly at him or try to get him to play footsies with you. Of course, he loves every bit of attention that he gets from you, but whenever he feels his heart get carried away, Minjeong’s words come back to him in a panic, and he remembers that he has no idea what it is that’s happening between you and him. You could be stringing him along, for all he knows, or you could be as into him as he is into you and just letting things happen. Unfortunately, just letting things happen was not something Sunghoon was good at—if things weren’t written black and white, he’d find a way to overthink even the littlest of details. Like how you’d kissed him for a good five minutes before letting him leave your apartment, otherwise known as the least platonic parting to exist, or conversely, like how you’d sometimes take hours to reply to texts.

If he was already a mumbling fool in front of you before, his condition has only worsened now. He tries his best to be normal and not make you or anyone in the group feel weird, but the fact is that you rocked his world and now he can’t look you in the eyes and not remember how it felt when you touched him or the sounds you made or the way you looked. It’s all playing in a loop in his mind and the only way he knows how to control it is by limiting his interactions with you, which doesn’t even work that well. 

The first couple days, you seem amused by his shyer-than-usual demeanor, but you quickly grow confused more than anything. Sunghoon won’t sit next to you, only speaks to you when necessary, doesn’t seek you out outside of a group setting. He tells himself he just needs some more time to be able to be around you casually again, but before that happens, one day at the library, you make a point to ask him if he’ll come help you get drinks for everyone from the dispenser machine. He knows it’d be too odd to say no, so he follows you.

He presses the buttons for everyone’s order (a Sprite for him, Diet Cokes for the girls, a Red Bull for Jake who has a midterm tomorrow and nothing for Jay who only swears by his disgusting herbal infusion) as you lean against the machine, arms crossed over your chest as you stare at him.

He has never felt so awkward in his life.

“So…” he starts although he has no idea what to say—he hopes something will just appear in his mind and that it’ll alleviate the tension. However, you seem to have other plans.

“What the hell, Sunghoon?” you say, taking him aback. When he glances at you, you don’t seem angry—just genuinely confused. “You’ve been avoiding me like the plague.”

“I haven’t!”

“Sunghoon,” you say sternly. He gives in right away.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I just-I didn’t know what to do. After we, you know…”

“After we had sex?” you say, then burst into laughter when he looks around the room to make sure no one’s heard. His cheeks heat up.

“Yes, after we had sex,” he whispers.

He pays for the drinks and picks them up. When he looks at you again, your smile has completely died down, and worry has settled into your features. “Do you regret it?” you ask, voice now as low as his. As if it hurts to say the words too loud.

Panic overcomes him, and he almost drops half of the drinks as he shakes his head. “No, of course not! I’m really sorry, Y/N, I never meant to be weird about it, I was just trying to wrap my head around everything, and I just… Well, I just didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry.”

You nod, taking his words in. “That’s fine. I get it. I just wanted to say, you know, it doesn’t have to change anything. We can still be friends and all. Like you said, it shouldn’t make things weird.”

Sunghoon’s stomach drops. He knows you’re trying to make him feel better, but you’ve inadvertently said the exact opposite of what he wanted to hear. He doesn’t want things to stay the same, or for you to stay friends. For him, things can’t go back to normal after that night — whatever normal means for the two of you — and he was foolishly hoping that you felt the same.

But clearly, you want to let the whole thing die and pretend like it never happened. And whether it’s a good thing or not, his feelings for you have grown so much, he’ll just let you lead him anywhere. Even if that turns out to be nowhere. 

So he conjures up the most convincing smile he can, hands you half of the drinks to carry, and says, “Yeah, sounds good.”

--

After that conversation, Sunghoon doesn’t think anything else will happen between the two of you. You had sex, you talked it out, and that’s the end of it. But then, it turns out that both of your last midterms are at the same time, in the same building, so you invite him to celebrate with pork belly and some drinks. Sunghoon is finishing his second beer when he starts to feel like he’s on that date again, laughing for no reason, butterflies in his stomach every time his gaze catches yours. You lean on your hand as you listen to him talk about a stupid memory from his childhood and he thinks he’s never seen anyone as pretty as you. 

The sun has long set when you say, “You know, it’s Wednesday today.”

He’s not sure what you’re trying to get at. “Yeah?”

“Minjeong’s out at karaoke tonight.”

With these simple words, all the images of you that Sunghoon had finally managed to banish from his mind come flooding back, and he is not even surprised to find himself half-naked in your bed thirty minutes later. So much for staying friends—one time is one thing, but Sunghoon knows he’ll never be normal again after a second time with you.

It’s not a long time before he finds himself in your room again. Every item of clothing between the two of you is gradually discarded while you kiss, lips growing more impatient with every inch of bare skin uncovered. He reluctantly lets you go when you suddenly giggle and say that you really need to pee, watching as you grab his t-shirt off the floor and put it on, just in case Minjeong comes home. You wear it like it’s yours, like it’s the most natural thing in the world that you’d be wearing his clothes. An indescribable feeling washes over Sunghoon at the sight, so intense he feels tears welling behind his eyes. Like something he’s been yearning for is finally at the grasp of his fingers; like it might slip away at any moment. 

His feelings must’ve transpired in the way he was looking at you—when you meet his eyes, your expression shifts slightly, and you quickly slip out of your room. He tells himself to reel it in. Get it together, he thinks. Or you’ll drive her away. 

A wave of tiredness hits him in the minute that you’re gone, probably due to all that soju and beer. “I’m back,” you whisper, but he doesn’t move, only opens his arms wide for you to get back into bed with him. It’s like a weight is lifted off his heart when he feels you against him again. You’re back. Your face is fresh, as if you’d splashed it with cold water, but when he slips one of his hands underneath your (his) t-shirt, your skin is still just as warm as before. Far from the fuzzy, tingly feeling he had gotten when you’d woken up together the other morning, now, he feels his desire for you deep in the pit of his stomach. The kind of hunger food couldn’t satisfy. “I missed you,” he whispers, voice low and gravelly. He reacts immediately when you squirm against him, tightening his grip around your waist and pulling you to him.

“I was gone two minutes.”

“I mean these past few days. I was starting to think I’d dreamt you up.” His hand on your lower back sneaks its way up between your bodies until it finds your breasts, cupping one of them with his palm before taking your nipple between his thumb and index, gently twisting. It pulls a half-gasp, half-moan from your throat, and the sound goes straight to his dick. “But you’re real, aren’t you?” 

“Very real,” you reply, a tremor in your voice. He’s barely touching you, and you’re already having trouble breathing. Sunghoon smiles at the idea of him having as much of a hold on you as you do on him.

“Good,” he says, voice so low it’s almost a growl. In one quick sweep, he pushes you down so your back is against the mattress, resting his palms on each side of your head.

He’s inside you within mere minutes. He’d wanted to hold back a bit, but you whispering Just put it in after thirty seconds of his fingers loosening you up was enough to convince him. His mind is already fuzzy with remnants of alcohol, and his overwhelming desire for you only makes matters worse. He barely has any control over his movements, rushed and sloppy, but as he drives himself deeper into you, your moans increase in volume. He only later realizes how tight his grip on your hips is when he sees two small bruises forming on the skin there. 

He comes quickly, probably embarrassingly so, but he can’t bring himself to care—he’s got other things on his mind. He’s not even bothered to discard the condom as he makes his way down your body, lips around your clit before you’ve even had the time to register what was happening. You cry out, a sound that Sunghoon works to pry out of you over and over again. Even when your thighs start shaking and you squirm away from him, he doesn’t relent. He’s just as desperate to make you feel good as he was desperate chasing his own pleasure earlier. He hooks his arms around your thighs, bringing you down to him and ensuring that you can’t get away. One hand still in his hair, the other clutching the bed sheets, you’ve turned your face sideways into the pillow so that your moans come out muffled. He is only satisfied when you’ve reached your second orgasm. 

As your breath slowly returns to normal, Sunghoon makes his way back up your body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. You clear your throat of its dryness and burst into soft, quiet laughter. “What’s funny?” Sunghoon murmurs, lips against your neck. 

“Nothing,” you say, still laughing. “That was just really, really nice.”

Sunghoon smiles. “I’m glad,” he says before kissing you, lips moving slowly against yours.

As he lays against you, the top of his head under your chin and your fingernails grazing along his back, a weird feeling overcomes him. Sunghoon is usually a pine-from-afar sort of guy, with at least five instances of hanging out that could or could not be a date before making things any sort of official. The pining has been a constant with all of his crushes. He’s gotten to the hanging out stage a couple of times, but the officialising has only happened once. Despite its low success rate, it’s a cycle Sunghoon feels comfortable with, and he’d imagined the rest of his romantic encounters would follow that pattern. 

But this is completely different. Of the three times you guys have met separately from your friend group, already two times have included sex. This isn’t a stage Sunghoon usually reaches before at least a few months and it disorientates him. What does it mean? That you like him so much, you decided to skip all of the steps and jump straight into the thick of it? He is reasonable enough not to delude himself into such a thought. He likes you a lot—that much he can be sure of. He’s liked you since the moment he laid eyes on you, even if the reason eludes him. Something in the way you smiled at him, the way you took him in stride as if you’d known him forever. When he thinks back to that party, he can’t believe it started out as the two of you being strangers. Even now, feeling your warm skin against his, it feels like a lie that just two months ago he hadn’t even met you. 

What he can’t say with total certainty is that you like him the same amount. Or that you like him any amount, really, although in his naivety he doesn’t understand how anyone could be this intimate with another person without liking them at least a little bit. And he doesn’t just mean the sex. He means this. The silently laying in each other’s arms, the soft kisses, the caresses wherever hands can reach. Eating post-sex snacks together, laughing as you watch the first episode of each other’s favorite sitcoms (Brooklyn Nine-Nine for him, Pen15, oddly enough, for you). Falling asleep together, cuddling the entire night then waking up and diving right back into each other’s embrace. 

After an entire day spent in rumination, Sunghoon’s still not sure what to make of it all.

All he knows is that when he DMs you that night, asking you how your day went, he goes through every emotion between anxiety, self-hatred and indifference in the five minutes that separate his text from your reply. He’s never been so happy to hear that someone couldn’t concentrate in class because of him.

--

Sunghoon has always been obsessed with the way couples stand together in public. 

Every time, it takes everything in him not to stare, because he wants to take in every little thing they do. He has that practically everywhere he goes, wanting to stare at people just to see what their deal is, but he is never quite as simultaneously fascinated and envious as when he spots a couple. But he knows staring isn’t the socially appropriate thing to do, so he either steals glances or watches for a little bit then pretends they aren’t there. He can’t help himself—even if they aren’t holding hands or obnoxiously making out in public, it’s still visible to anyone with eyes that there is something tying these people together. It’s in the way they stand near each other, their bodies turned inwardly, as though enveloped by a bubble containing just the two of them and no one else; in the way they look at each other, their eyes never straying from the other’s face as they talk, intimacy showing itself even in a loud, crowded room. Sunghoon craves to find that proximity, to be able to touch and be touched so softly, every graze of a hand purposeful and unconscious at the same time.

It’s the first of November already. The Weather app, as it tends to do, has deceived you; so instead of a walk on what was supposed to be a sunny day, you find yourselves in a busy café near the University, the air outside too chilly even with your scarves and gloves. You’re waiting for your order at the end of the counter — a mocha for him, an oat flat white for you — when he notices it. Your body is fully facing him, you’re distractedly playing with the hem of his sweatshirt, and you’re not looking at anything but him as you rant about that annoying classmate of yours that goes by a self-made nickname and always talks over the tutor. In this light, the two of you are like the couples he’s always longed to be—the simple thought makes him want to cry. As more and more often is the case these days, you have no idea what you’re doing to him.

It’s been around two months since you first met and in that time, although Sunghoon is lucky not to have enough fingers to count the number of times you have seen each other one-on-one, not much has happened. Minjeong, who had understood what was going on the first time she saw the two of you eating leftovers from the Japanese restaurant on the couch at 10 a.m., has grown accustomed to his presence in the apartment and even sometimes sits down to watch a movie with the two of you—a movie that Chaewon would usually have forced you to watch in the living room instead of the privacy of your bedroom, so that everyone could join. Sunghoon is just glad Minjeong has stopped silently scolding him with her eyes every time he comes out of your room. She never mentions that night when she essentially warned him against you after the party. 

Jake seems to be the only oblivious one in your group. Yunjin and Chaewon have eyes like hawks and horrifyingly vivid imaginations when they put their heads together, so they were probably already making plans for your wedding and fighting for the title of godmother when you and Sunghoon met at the beginning-of-semester party. They cornered him once at a party and forced him to spill the beans and spare no detail, because you apparently were “denying everything, but we know there’s something going on.” Jay is still Sunghoon’s go-to person when he needs advice concerning you, although the older boy doesn’t understand why it has to be so complicated and always tells him to “just tell her how you feel,” which Sunghoon will not do unless there is a gun to his head. But Jake just seems happy to see his friend and his sister get along this well—no matter how many times you wear his jacket at their games or disappear at the same time at the end of parties, he doesn’t grow suspicious. If he does, he doesn’t mention it to Sunghoon, at least.

Between the two of you, not a word is spoken about the nature of your relationship, which remains unbearingly undefined. For a while, he weakly convinces himself that he doesn’t need to have that conversation with you. He’s young, he’s free, he should be able to enjoy casual sex without putting a label on it. The main problem, though, was that the sex could not be further from casual, at the very least not to Sunghoon.

He has never known anything quite like it. In mere weeks, you’ve both mastered the art of pleasuring each other. He understands your body like it’s his, knows what each of the sounds and expressions you make means. He knows where to touch you to have a kiss go from light-hearted to dizzyingly intense, how to move his mouth to have you arching your back and holding onto him for dear life. And you—he thinks your skin must be laced with cocaine, the way he can never get enough of it. 

But it’s always the moments afterwards that get him in his head. To him, casual sex means getting dressed the minute it’s over and going off to do other things, which is the absolute opposite of what you do. Whether it’s falling asleep together or spending Sundays in bed, you always stay together afterwards, curled up in each other’s arms as you talk away the hours, conversations interspersed with slow, lazy kisses. He’ll say things like, “You’re so pretty,” or “Why do you smell so good?” because he’s so smitten with you that he can never stop himself from uttering every compliment that flashes through his brain, but the things he really wants to say are harder to speak out loud. Even just a What are we?—three simple words that he can’t bring himself to ask, too scared it’ll ruin everything. 

Arguably worse is that sex isn’t even a requirement for when you and Sunghoon see each other. He goes on walks with you whenever you’ve spent too much time in the library and need some fresh air. You go shopping with him when his department throws a fundraiser and he needs a formal outfit. He cooks you your favorite meal when your period is particularly nasty. You sneak into the ice rink after his practice and let him ‘teach’ you how to skate, even though you already learned how with Jake when you were kids. Even mundane moments become fun when spent with you, and you share so many hobbies and interests that you never run out of things to do or talk about.

And yet, it feels like one step forward, two steps back with you—if you let him close one night, you’ll run away the next. A week will pass without you seeing each other outside of the library or group hang-outs, and if Sunghoon asks you out, you’ll say no, usually blaming the amount of work you have. He gets it—due to the nature of your degree and your being a fourth-year student, your workload is much heavier than his, with essays, translations and oral presentations due every other week. And that’s not even including midterms and finals. But still, he doesn’t see why you would need to stay at the library for ten hours straight for days on end. He’d start worrying about your health if you didn’t at least relax on weekends. 

So while Sunghoon wants nothing more than to go all in with you, he senses you holding back. He notices you avoiding eye contact during particularly intimate moments, and when you look at him perhaps too fondly for your liking, you quickly catch yourself and resume your neutral, sometimes almost cold expression. When he tries to broach more personal, sensitive topics, you always find a way to change the subject or turn the conversation towards him before you get too deep. 

As time passes, and especially as exam season nears, he can tell there’s something that you’re not telling him about. His suspicions are confirmed when you come back from a weekend at your parents’ house. He’s also been away for an out-of-town hockey game, and because he hasn’t had much time to text you (and because their team won, so he wants to show off a little), he’s particularly looking forward to seeing you again that Monday. It’s only been three days since you’ve last seen each other, but he misses you like crazy. 

But the minute you’re back, you bury yourself in work like never before, often waking up at ungodly hours and staying at the library until midnight. More than once, he stays behind with you, long after the others have gone, reminding you gently every hour that it might be time to go home and get some rest. The moments you actually agree are few and far between, and although he sticks it out at first, sleeping with his head on the table until you tell him you’re ready to go, your stubbornness soon starts frustrating him, and he ends up leaving when he gets too tired. He knows this is important to you, but he doesn’t understand why you have to go to these lengths—you’d still easily be one of the best students in your class without all this exertion. And despite his many attempts, you won’t tell him what’s wrong, won’t even admit that something is wrong—you keep repeating that “it’s just what exam season is like.”

When he asks your friends about it, they seem just as confused as he is. One evening when you have plans to order some food and watch a movie at your apartment, he shows up at the agreed time, but you’re nowhere to be found. Thankfully, the girls are there to let him up and not leave him standing outside in the rain. You don’t pick up when he calls you and call him back a minute later, apologizing profusely but still saying that there’s something you really need to finish first. If it was only a one-time thing, it wouldn’t make him as angry as it does—but this has been going on for almost two weeks now, and Sunghoon is close to boiling point. 

The fact that it’s been months since your date at the Japanese restaurant, and the only thing that you’ve said about what was happening between you and Sunghoon “didn’t have to change anything.” The fact that you’re essentially each other’s boyfriend and girlfriend without the label or the reassurance that comes with it. The fact that there’s something clearly bothering you but that you won’t tell him about it. The fact that this something is effectively coming between the two of you. Sunghoon was originally more worried about you than anything—now that studying has taken obvious precedence over him in your list of priorities, he’d be lying if he said his ego wasn’t wounded. He isn’t asking to be the number one most important thing in your life, and he knew before even meeting you that high academic performance meant a lot to you, but he likes to think he deserves at least a little bit of your time and attention. 

Except, does he really? It’s not like you’re actually dating.

There’s a pang in his heart as he remembers this fact that he should never have forgotten in the first place. It hurts—and so perhaps, he’s less patient than he ought to be.

“Whatever, Y/N. Don’t worry about it, just let me know when you have time for something other than getting As.”

He hangs up and meets your flatmates’ worried eyes. 

“She still at the library?” Chaewon asks, tone delicate as if trying not to scare off a wounded animal. Sunghoon nods, a deep sigh escaping his mouth. 

“She always studies a lot,” Minjeong starts, “but this is something else.”

“Have you guys tried saying something?”

The girls nod. “Even Jake has talked to her, but she won’t listen. And he usually always gets to her,” Minjeong says. 

He goes home soon afterwards and spends the rest of his evening in rumination, torn between his worry and his anger towards you—emotions which only increase as more days pass, and he sees less and less of you. Your behavior was already concerning while preparing for your exams and final assignments, it gets even worse when exams actually do start. He doesn’t hear from you for an entire week, and the one time you miraculously agree to a short group hang-out in the form of getting coffee, you’re only half there, physically present but mind far, far away. You barely react when the guys tell you about their victory at the latest hockey game—which you didn’t attend, as well as any other game recently. 

No matter how much he tries to put it out of his mind, to focus on his own exams and hockey games, you stay at the forefront of his thoughts. The hockey team is away for another out-of-town game when he decides to broach the subject with Jake, with whom he’s sharing a room. The entire semester, he’s been careful not to raise Jake’s suspicions about the two of you, both out of consideration for you, who’d mentioned you didn’t want your brother to know what was going on, and for himself, who would also rather Jake not know, at least not until your relationship became official. Which it never did. But now that all he gets from you is radio silence at a time when you’d usually be an hour into a FaceTime call, he can’t help himself.

Jake is just coming out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel, when Sunghoon takes his shot in the dark. “Have you heard from Y/N recently?” he asks as nonchalantly as he can, pretending to not be avidly waiting for his friend’s reaction by keeping his eyes on his phone.

“Y/N?” Jake echoes. “No, not really. Why?”

“Just ‘cause I haven’t seen her around much. I’m wondering if everything’s okay.”

“You mean her staying at the library all day?” Sunghoon nods; Jake sighs. “Yeah, she’ll snap out of it soon enough. She gets somewhat like this every time exams come around, but even I have to admit it’s pretty tough this time around. The last time I saw her like this was way back in high school, and that’s because our parents were watching right over her shoulder. It’s been better in university thanks to the distance.”

“So this has to do with your parents?”

“Oh, one hundred percent. She’s always wanted to do well at school, but she only gets this obsessive when our parents are involved.”

“I guess this did start after that weekend when she went home…” Sunghoon muses absent-mindedly. It could’ve passed off as an off-hand remark, but Jake pauses in his movements and looks at him warily.

“Yeah, she did… You noticed that, huh?”

Sunghoon pauses. This whole time, he was sure Jake was oblivious to anything happening between you and him—but he might have underestimated his friend. Like brother, like sister; he can hardly read either of you when he really needs to. Jake might genuinely be surprised that Sunghoon remembered your whereabouts that weekend, or he’s onto him. “I guess I did,” he finally says, going for as noncommittal an answer as he can.

Jake says nothing for a bit, and Sunghoon thinks he’s managed to get through the conversation without raising too much suspicion—until a minute later, when Jake speaks again. “Do you… like Y/N?”

Sunghoon freezes, snapping his head towards Jake, who’s lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. His first instinct is to deny, but there’s no point pretending anymore. It’s one thing keeping it from Jake—lying to him about it is something else entirely. It’s an uncomfortable conversation, but it must be had. “Yeah, I do,” Sunghoon replies, guilt clear in his voice, more because he’s only now admitting it to Jake than because of his feelings themselves.

A shaky breath comes out of Jake’s mouth, as if this was the exact answer he had dreaded. “Right, okay. Since when?”

“Since I met her, basically.”

Jake’s head whips towards Sunghoon, and their gazes meet awkwardly. “Since that party in September?” he asks, shock written all over his face. Sunghoon nods, and to his surprise, Jake bursts out laughing. “Don’t tell me it’s because you accidentally matched costumes?”

Sunghoon looks away, frowning. “That might’ve helped things along,” he mumbles, embarrassment washing over him as Jake’s laughter intensifies. At least he was taking it well—a bit too well, perhaps.

“You’re so predictable, man,” Jake says when he’s calmed down, wiping a tear from his eye. 

“How did you know, anyway?”

“You’ve been pretty obvious with it recently,” Jake replies after a few seconds. “I could tell you were a bit shy around her at first, and when it got better I just thought you’d become friends or something. But when she showed up with your jacket at every game and you never left her side at parties, I assumed something else was going on. You’ve always been staying behind at the library these days, and I know you don’t have that much work.”

Sunghoon chuckles. “I guess I haven’t been trying hard to hide it lately.”

“Yeah, why would you hide it in the first place? You could’ve just told me.”

“I didn’t want to make things weird.”

Jake frowns. “It wouldn’t have been weird. If anything, hiding it makes it weirder.”

“I just thought, if one of my friends had a crush on my sister, I’d probably rather they hid it. Like, I don’t need to know about that,” Sunghoon says, and it makes Jake laugh.

“Dude, Y/N and I are only a year apart. Do you know how many guys have come up to me asking me for her number or advice on how to ask her out? It’s been, like, one every few months since middle school. Guys here especially have no shame telling me how hot they find her.”

Sunghoon makes a face. He doesn’t disagree, but he’d never go out of his way to tell your brother how exquisite you looked in certain outfits. “That’s gross.”

“Yeah, it is. But you’re my friend, not some greasy rando, so I trust you. If anything, I’d probably have to tell her to be nice to you, and not the other way around.”

“Yeah, you could say that again,” Sunghoon grumbles, then realizes his mistake immediately, eyes widening.

“What do you mean?” Jake asks, sounding genuine at first, but when Sunghoon stays quiet for a couple seconds, debating whether he should just lay the truth bare, Jake sits up on the bed and repeats his question, his tone much warier this time around. Sunghoon glances at him then looks away guiltily.

“Well, to be completely honest… We’ve sort of been seeing each other, kind of. But it’s complicated.”

Jake flops back down on his mattress with a grunt. “Who else knows?” he asks, rubbing at his eyes with his hands as if suddenly very exhausted.

“Everyone…”

“Everyone?!”

“Well, Jay, Minjeong, Yunjin and Chaewon.”

“So everyone.”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Great.” Jake sighs. “Since when?”

“Since October,” Sunghoon mumbles, feeling guiltier than ever. He’s belatedly realizing that it would’ve been much easier to have everything out in the open from the get-go, both with you and with Jake; now he’s both stuck in situationship limbo and has to face the consequences of keeping something this important from one of his closest friends. “Are you upset?” Sunghoon asks, feeling a bit like a ten-year-old.

“Kinda, yeah, but more at her than at you. I’ve told her not to go after anyone from the hockey team.”

“‘Cause of Heeseung?”

“Yeah. God, that was messy. He gave her mixed signals for so long, I could barely talk to him without thinking of her crying for so long. And now he’s the one who can’t quite look me in the eye,” Jake says, shaking his head at the mere thought of his captain.

“Was it that bad? She made it seem like it wasn’t that big of a deal.”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “Really? It upset her for a while though,” he says, then turns his head to look at the ceiling again. “I guess that’s not so surprising of her. She sometimes likes pretending she doesn’t have any emotions, even though I’m pretty sure she has more than most people.”

“Huh.” That would explain some things, Sunghoon muses. Emotions are not a topic that comes up very often with you, and every time he’s gotten an inkling of them, you seem to shut it all down immediately.

“But you know, I’m more surprised than anything. About… about it all, really. Not just that you’re only telling me now, but that it’s lasted this long. She must really like you.”

“You think?” Sunghoon says, his face brightening with hope, the words slipping from him before he can stop them once again. He shrinks when Jake laughs at him.

“Look at you. Down bad, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“But yeah, dude. I’ve told you about this. I’ve never seen her in a relationship, ever. Says she doesn’t have the time,” Jake says, air-quoting you. “I’ve only had the displeasure of seeing her go home with one-night-stands. You know that since she started college, she’s had a rule that she’d only see someone three times and that was it?”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, so she wouldn’t catch feelings. I’m telling you, she’s crazy. So you must be special.”

Sunghoon can’t stop the smile from spreading on his lips—special. But it doesn’t make him feel that much better, either. “It’s not like we’re actually dating, so I’m not sure how special I can be…”

Jake’s head turns to look at Sunghoon again, but the younger boy keeps his eyes trained on the ceiling fan above him. “What’s happening between you guys?”

A blush creeps on Sunghoon’s cheeks. “Is this something you really want to talk about?”

“Well, spare me the gruesome details, please,” Jake says, chuckling, “but yeah, I would like to know what’s going on with my best friend and my sister.”

“I’m your best friend?” Sunghoon says, grinning as he meets Jake’s gaze, who rolls his eyes.

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Fine.” He sighs. “Well, I didn’t think it would happen more than once-”

“What would happen more than once?”

Sunghoon pauses. “Well, you know…” Jake gives him a look as if to say, Well, no, I don’t know, so Sunghoon is forced to go on: “Sleeping together.”

“You guys slept together?!” Jake exclaims, sitting up on his bed once again.

“Yeah, what did you think?”

“I don’t know, just that you were going on dates, hanging out one-on-one, or whatever…”

“Well, we were.”

“Ugh, whatever,” Jake says, waving his hand in front of his face like swatting a fly away. “So, not just once, then?”

“No. And I thought it’d be a one-time thing, ‘cause a few days afterwards she said something about it not having to change our friendship…”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. But then it did. Happen again, I mean. And it’s been happening frequently since. But we’re not… dating dating. We haven’t had that conversation.”

Jake frowns. “Why not?”

Sunghoon releases a shaky breath. Why not, indeed. “‘Cause she hasn’t mentioned it. And I’m too scared to do it.”

“What are you scared of?”

“The typical stuff. What we have now… it’s not what I want, but it’s managed to not disrupt the group, you know. I’m scared that if I tell her how I feel, it’ll make things awkward between the two of us, and between all of us by extension.”

“Well, it might,” Jake says after thinking for a few seconds. “I wish I could tell you with certainty that she’ll like you back, but I honestly can’t. As obvious as you were towards her, she was not giving anything away.” Sunghoon chuckles, more out of self-deprecation than anything. This was not the pep talk he had hoped for. “But, I can tell you that she won’t be the type to make things awkward. You have nothing to risk by telling her, because in the long run, you’ll be better off that way. I know you, Sunghoon. You’ll be miserable if you can’t be fully yourself with someone.”

Decidedly, Sunghoon’s friends had a way of telling him the exact opposite of the things he wanted to hear while being completely right. He wishes things with you could stay the same — minus the overworking yourself and ignoring him in the process — and that he wouldn’t have to do anything that might make them change. But just as Jake said, he’d also reach a point where he couldn’t take it anymore—a point he was already inching closer and closer to with every passing day. He likes you enough to let you not define the relationship, but he likes you too much to let it go on. He likes you too much to not be able to tell you, and show you, and remind you of it every day. He hated having to hold back, and he hated feeling you holding back. He wanted to give you his all and he wanted all of you, too, not just bite-sized portions of you.

“You’re right,” he finally says. “I haven’t been able to talk to her lately, but I’ll have to tell her soon enough. When her exams are over, I guess.”

Jake sighs. “Yeah. I don’t know if there’s any getting through to her right now.”

“She’s blown me off so many times! I don’t know what she’s doing, spending so many hours in that library. I’d go insane.”

“She’s a perfectionist,” Jake says, shaking his head. “I’ve talked to her about it. When it comes to school, she needs everything to be as flawless as can be. She spends hours re-reading and editing her work. It’s not good.”

“Not really, no.”

“But she’s only got a week left. I’ll try to convince her not to go home for too long, and it’ll be better after the holidays. Then we’ll make sure there’s not a repeat of this next exam season.”

He thinks of Christmas break and of not seeing you for two weeks; of next semester and going through all of this with you a second time. The uncertainty, the fooling around behind your friends’ backs — although that might not be needed now that Jake is in on it too — Sunghoon’s not sure if he can go through it all again. “Yeah, we will.”

--

They lose their game the following day. They had an amazing run, either winning or tying every game so far; this loss is not enough to make them drop significantly in the rankings, but it’s enough to demoralize Sunghoon. It couldn’t have come at a worse time—between you and this failed game, his self-esteem is taking a real hit.

He dared hope for some comfort from you once he was back, but in vain. He doesn’t know why he imagined your attitude might’ve changed overnight, and when he texts you asking to hang out, the same old sorry I can’t atm fills his phone screen. And just like that, as strong as his feelings for you have been all this time, so is his resentment—unwarranted, perhaps, but he thinks he deserves better than this, and he’s both angry at you for not giving him anything and at himself for letting it happen.

Now, he’s the one who spends hours working himself to the bone in the ice rink, who’s clearly preoccupied with other things when everyone gets together, and who doesn’t even show up to the party the whole group goes to when you’re all done with exams. The last game before winter break is in two days, and he doesn’t want to waste a day nursing a hangover when he could be practicing.

That night, he thinks everyone is out at some random club downtown, so he does a double-take when it’s past eleven p.m. and you show up at the rink. He’s skating laps, practicing his speed and his goal-shooting, only noticing you when you’re standing in the middle of the rink. He almost skates right into you.

“Y/N?” he asks, not completely sure you’re not just a figment of his imagination. He’s so exhausted, he wouldn’t be surprised if he were dreaming you up.

“Jay texted me.”

“Oh. Why?” He’s out of breath, and the words come out blunter than he intends them to.

“Because it’s almost midnight and you’re still here,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest. There’s a hint of a smile on your lips, but your eyebrows are furrowed in what looks like worry. It’s the first time Sunghoon’s seeing you concerned over something other than an assignment. 

He shrugs and resumes his laps, slower this time, forcing you to keep turning on your feet. “I’m practicing. There’s a big game coming up.”

“Which is exactly why you should be resting, like everyone else on your team right now.”

He resists rolling his eyes. “Why would I rest when I could be getting better?”

“Because you need rest as much as you need practice. You won’t be any use on the rink if you’re too tired to play properly.”

“And I won’t be any use if I can’t shoot properly, either.”

“Sunghoon, you need a break. You’re clearly exhausted-Will you stop it?” you suddenly snap. “I’m trying to talk to you, and I’m getting dizzy.” 

Your small outburst only has him growing more agitated, and even though he does stop, it’s more so you can see the annoyance on his face than anything. “You know, this is a bit rich coming from you, Y/N.” He knows this is not the right time to bring this up—if he has grievances against you, he shouldn’t be bringing them up when he’s already frustrated. He’s well aware of this, but he can’t help himself.

You scoff. “Excuse me?”

“You’re the one who spends twelve hours a day in the library during exams and does not budge even if I tell you you should go home.”

“That’s different-”

“How is it any different?” he interrupts, voice rising. “You don’t listen to me when you overwork yourself. I don’t see why I should.”

“So you realize that you’re overworking yourself?”

“Of course I do! But I have to.”

“No, you don’t-”

“Y/N, please. I have to win as much as you have to get the top grades. Is it actually necessary? No, but you know how shit it feels not to.”

“And it’s exactly because I know that feeling that I’m telling you to stop. You’re just feeding into it.”

“So are you, staying until 2 a.m. in the library. You’ve never once gone home when I asked you to.”

“Again, that’s different-”

“How?! How is it different? Please enlighten me, ‘cause they’re the exact same thing to me.”

You sigh. A sudden sadness appears on your face. Sunghoon is torn between wanting to see this to its end and taking everything he’s said back. But he keeps quiet, and your eyes, when they meet his again, harden. “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

“Yes.”

As if you couldn’t say your next words while looking at him, you tear your gaze away from his face. “Because I’m actually concerned about you, here. The only reason you want me to stop and go home is so we can fuck.”

Sunghoon is so astounded that all words fail him—he stares at you, mouth wide open like you just shot him. After a few seconds, all he’s able to come up with is an incredulous, “What?” His voice is a mere whisper. 

“You heard me,” you say coldly.

He closes his mouth and swallows. “So… you’re the one who’s worried, and I’m only after sex?”

You glance at him. “Yeah.”

A chuckle escapes Sunghoon’s throat, then another, until laughter spills out of him uncontrollably. He feels like the world is upside down. How could you have lived the same thing and come out of it with such different perspectives? Your account of his intentions with you is so ridiculous and unfathomable to him that he can’t do anything but laugh.

You seem taken aback at first, but your surprise quickly turns into annoyance. “Something funny?”

“Hilarious, actually,” he says, holding his stomach. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. All he finds at the end of his amusement is anger, bright red and hot. It’s not an emotion he feels often, its rarity only serving as an intensifier—he starts making his way out of the rink before it can explode and hit you in its wake. “Well, that’s convinced me to call it a day. So you got what you came for, I guess.”

His fingers tremble as he undoes the laces on his skates and puts his sneakers on again. You stand by the door of the rink, holding onto the frame as you look at him, that same sad look still on your face. “Hoon,” you say, voice weak. What would usually have him melting only has his anger flare harder.

“Don’t. For the first time ever, I actually really don’t want to talk to you right now.” He stands up, gives you one last harsh look, and turns away. He only halts right before exiting the bleacher area, and after a couple seconds of thinking, turns back around. “Oh, but don’t worry, I’ll let you know when I want to fuck again. Since that’s all this is, clearly.”

--

It seemed to you no one thought you were good enough for Sunghoon.

Only Yunjin and Chaewon seemed excited at the prospect of the two of you getting together, or at least getting to know each other, but they were also the type to coo at dogs in the street and tear up at the sight of old people holding hands; Minjeong was apprehensive from the start, and made it clear; Jay was indifferent; Jake was oblivious for a while. Sunghoon was…

What was Sunghoon?

Someone who had come out of nowhere, shaken up your routine and messed with your head. That’s what Sunghoon was. He didn’t seem apologetic in the slightest.

Maybe it was your fault for not opening up to the people closest to you and letting them think you were some kind of no-strings-attached one-night-stands-only emotionless maneater who had been single for as long as they had known her, who would be seen with someone new every few months, and never for long, who, as far as the eye could tell, only used men for sex. Maybe it was their fault for never trying to dig deeper.

No, okay, it was definitely your fault.

Based on your conversations with your friends, they thought Heeseung had broken your heart, and you had never bounced back properly. He’d hurt you so much, you couldn’t fathom a real relationship anymore—you could only be with someone casually. Which wasn’t so far from the truth, but what Heeseung had done was much worse than just breaking your heart. He’d confirmed what you already knew of yourself: you want too much. You want what you can’t have, what you don’t deserve.

From the moment you met Park Sunghoon, you knew you didn’t deserve someone like him. Minjeong seemed to agree, and when she saw you and him together at choir that Saturday in September, three months ago already, she made sure you knew her thoughts on the matter.

“This is so… unlike you,” was the first thing she’d said after she pulled you aside. 

“What is?”

“This,” she repeated, waving her arms around. “Being here. Coming with him.” She pointed at Sunghoon, whose hair was being ruffled by one grandma and his cheek pulled by another. He kept glancing back worriedly at you—you liked him so much already. “See? You’re smiling at him,” she said, making you realize a sappy smile had started growing on your lips at the sight of him. Your face dropped and you scoffed at the disgust in her voice.

“Yeah, some of us like to smile. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Y/N, you know what I’m trying to say.”

“I don’t think I do, actually.”

She sighed. “You don’t do this. You don’t meet a guy and show up to his choir practice the next morning. What’s happening?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. Had you known your presence would be questioned like that, you might’ve thought twice about coming. “Can’t a girl enjoy a choir without getting interrogated these days?”

“You’re avoiding my question! Listen, Y/N. Sunghoon is not the kind of guy you usually go for. He’s-Stop. Don’t smile at me like that.”

“If you like Sunghoon, you can just tell me. You know I wouldn’t stoop so low as to go after a guy my best friend likes.”

“So you are going after him?”

“So you do like him?”

Minjeong shook her head violently and put her hands on your shoulders, staring into your brain as if trying to make you see some sense. Calmly, she said, “No, I don’t. Sunghoon’s nice, but he is so far from my type. He’s too… nice.”

“You mean he doesn’t wear leather jackets or ride a motorcycle?”

“That was once. But no, he doesn’t do that. And what I’m trying to tell you is that he’s not your type either.”

“And how have you gathered that?”

“Because so far, you’ve only wisely chosen guys who are as detached and emotionally stunted as you.”

“I’m not-”

“But he’s not like that, Y/N. He’s the bring-home-to-your-parents-for-Christmas type. Not the hump-and-dump type.”

“I’m starting to get offended by this conversation.”

“All I’m saying is, don’t go breaking his heart. Or yours, for that matter. It pains me to say but I care about both of you very much and I don’t see this going anywhere good.”

You shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Was her opinion of your romantic tendencies — or lack thereof — that bad that she couldn’t even recommend you to her friend? You felt like a chastised child whose mom told you you couldn’t get the toy you wanted. Despite being well aware that you weren’t the most committed when it came to relationships, you still felt like she was going overboard. Just because nothing had stuck so far didn’t mean it wouldn’t now—she was acting like you went around playing with people’s feelings for fun.

“Jesus, this is my second time seeing him. I just wanna see what his deal is. I’m not breaking anyone’s heart, okay?” 

The choir conductor had called out for everyone to gather on stage then, and that was the end of that conversation. You still remember how funny of a thing it was, seeing Sunghoon in his nice shirt and trousers, his hair falling into his eyes, singing diligently with the choir, when just the night before he had been playing beer pong dressed as Cowboy Ken. In this new light, you understood why Minjeong was so adamant about him not being your usual type, and why the grandmas were fussing over him. You hadn’t known what had pushed you to invite yourself to this rehearsal, and even then as you sat there, you weren’t sure what you were doing or why you couldn’t stop smiling as you watched Sunghoon sing. 

Time made things clearer, starting with that afternoon at the beach. The salt in the air that day had clouded your thoughts, covered them with a thin layer so that your usual reluctance to share anything remotely personal had dimmed. Or maybe it had had nothing to do with the air and everything to do with the boy sitting next to you on the sand, the way words came tumbling out of your mouth before you could think about them and were only met with understanding and empathy on his part. For once, you didn’t feel the need to guard yourself, to adapt your words and actions to the person in front of you. It was something you didn’t know was possible with a near stranger—perhaps because Sunghoon felt nothing like one.

He made you feel things you hadn’t felt in a long time; things you had been craving to feel, needed almost as much as oxygen. Being with him felt like breathing again. But you had been underwater so long, being on land again felt foreign, scary, and you couldn’t help but dive back into safe waters, coming up for air once in a while.

Whether he had intended to or not, Sunghoon had started to scratch at your surface, until he’d burrowed a small hole—shallow, but enough for cracks to appear, cracks you were quick to put back together as best as you could.

So when his gaze was too tender, his touches too gentle, you bristled. You went away, because you were afraid of what might happen if you stayed. The more you wanted to give him, the less you gave him anything at all. Your own desire overwhelmed you. His letterman jacket was warm around your shoulders, you proudly walked around with the four letters of his last name on your back, but you couldn’t get out of your mind how cold it would be if it was one day ripped away from you. 

You thought of Heeseung, how disillusioned you had been when you thought you had finally met someone who would love you the way you had always yearned to be, only for him to toss you away when you started asking for too much. You thought of your friends in middle school, how it seemed that no friendship could be more wonderful until you overheard them talking about you at a sleepover, about how clingy you were. You thought of your parents, how they had only bestowed kind words upon you when you performed well in your role of perfect daughter, of academically gifted child. How they hadn’t even glanced at any of the drawings you’d done of the four of you, mother, father, son and daughter holding hands with a bright yellow sun in the corner of the sky. How they had pushed you away from their bed when you seeked some comfort after a terrible nightmare. How they had never bothered to hide their disappointment when you came home from school with anything less than an A. How they had shunned your brother for not going down the path they had envisioned for him, how hard you had to fight to make them accept yours was not a worthless one.

Even your best friend seemed to think you were unable to receive affection of the likes of Sunghoon’s—but what you were afraid of was that he wouldn’t handle the amount of affection you knew you were able to give. In a way, that was what had drawn you to Sunghoon in the first place—from the moment you’d met him, you had been able to tell there was something of you in him. It seemed to you he had a heart that was overflowing with love, love to give, love to spare on whoever would have it. In his words, you were him. Nevertheless, your fear of getting hurt overrode your desire to feel Sunghoon’s love, and you didn’t know whether you would be able to revert to your nature after having spent so much time perfecting your new facade.

You knew what it was like to be cold. And so you prematurely braced yourself for it by pushing away Sunghoon’s warmth. If it was going to happen at some point, like Minjeong had hinted it would, might as well get used to it, right?

Except the cold never came. Sunghoon kept on burning relentlessly, no matter how much wood you fed his fire with—you could cling to him for nights on end or ignore his texts for days, without fail, he’d welcome you with his usual, unwavering warmth. He allowed you to bask in it, to momentarily let down your defenses. But something always happened to make you raise them back up—Minjeong would eye the two of you suspiciously, Heeseung would post on Instagram (Is one of the girls on slide five his new fling? Are they serious and it wasn’t that he wasn’t ready for a relationship, it’s that he didn’t want one with me?), or your mom would text you to ask you whether everything was okay.

Yet increasingly, you suspected there was something behind Sunghoon’s warmth, something you had missed, something that was tricking you. He looked at you like you had hung the stars in the night sky, yes; in public, a knowing look from you was enough to have his face turn bright red, and in private, one simple touch had his chest heaving, yes; he expressed disappointment every time you turned him down for a hang-out. Your attachment to him grew, and it became harder to put what the two of you had into words.

It wasn’t just sex—it couldn’t be. It ran deeper than that. You knew what relationships that consisted of just sex were like, and this wasn’t that, it was too good, too intimate to be just that. But you weren’t a couple, that much was clear. Only four other people were aware something was even going on, your brother not included, and you acted as regular friends in front of everyone. Jake had insisted you didn’t fool around with another member of his hockey team because his relationship with Heeseung had already deteriorated enough, he didn’t need to be on weird terms with anyone else on your behalf, so you were not keen on letting him know about what you got up to with Sunghoon. Anyway, even if everyone on earth was in on your shenanigans, you and Sunghoon hadn’t convened on what it all meant. Who knew what was going on in his head? You were no stranger to how deceitful men could be when they were after certain bodily pleasures. Unless Sunghoon said it in so many words, multiple times, you would not be a hundred percent sure he wasn’t only looking to get laid, or wanted someone to act like his girlfriend without the label and the obligations that came with it.

Because you basically were acting like his girlfriend, and he like your boyfriend. You always went to each other. Always, only each other. Whether he needed a second opinion on an outfit, you needed a rant session about your dissertation, either of you a really good orgasm, it was each other you went to.

You waited for him to initiate a conversation about the status of your relationship like one waits for church bells to ring at the turn of the hour—you knew it was coming, but the sound might be too much to bear. And the longer you had to wait, the more you dreaded it. Because how would you react when the time came? You didn’t trust yourself not to run away; neither did Minjeong.

The cold hadn’t come yet. You couldn’t let yourself feel the warmth unreservedly. It was all unpleasantly lukewarm.

Then you went home for a weekend.

It was a good friend from school’s birthday, and despite having spent a lot of time with Sunghoon at the expense of studying, you had done well this semester and thought you deserved a break. After having been away for so long, you had started to underestimate the power of your need for your parents’ approval over you. One small instance that your brother and many other people would’ve brushed off easily was enough to set you off—that same cold look of disappointment when you decided to be honest and told them one of your courses was deadly boring all while being unnecessarily complicated and you had received a low B-grade in it. They barely spoke to you for the rest of the evening.

Exams were a mere few weeks away when you got back. You buried yourself in work, forgot everything and everyone else, even Sunghoon, even yourself.

The cold hadn’t come yet, so you sought it out for yourself.

At the same time, you hadn’t indulged in enough introspection to realize how frustrated you had been at Sunghoon for not trying to create defined boundaries around your relationship. You were unable to do it yourself, you unrealistically wanted him to do the work for the both of you, you got upset when he didn’t. What you were able to do was make up reasons why he wasn’t giving you the what are we talk—he doesn’t like you that much, he just wants sex, he’s settling for you until he finds the next best thing, the real thing. This wasn’t leading anywhere, so you cut it off before he could.

You set foot in the library at seven thirty a.m. on a Monday and every following day of that week, then the next, then the next. He managed to pull you out every now and then—you weren’t that strong against his big pleading eyes, his soft messy hair, his warm hands that entirely covered yours. 

Oftentimes, you were too tired at the end of a long library day to have sex. Sunghoon never held it against you—he seemed more than happy to cook you dinner, let you fall asleep halfway during a movie you had chosen, and cuddle all night long. But your body burned with resentment at his mere presence in your bed, in your home, in your text messages. Who was he to stop you from studying, from achieving your goals, to distract you from that top grade just so he could get off? Even your friends and brother weren’t trying so hard to make you take breaks. The worry that furrowed his eyebrows, which you used to want to see fade away with a caress of your thumb, now infuriated you to no end, it seemed — to you — put-on. He kissed your neck and you wanted to push him away instead of melt into him like you had before.

It was his turn to leave for a weekend for an out-of-town hockey game, and you convinced yourself his absence came as a relief. But on the Sunday evening they got back, as you came out of the library, you spotted your brother waiting right outside of the building.

“Why is it so hard to reach you?” he said when he saw you in lieu of a greeting. “What’s the point of having a phone if you don’t even use it? I called you, like, five times.” “It was on airplane mode.” He rolled his eyes so hard, you could almost hear them moving beneath their lids. “What have you done to Sunghoon?” You stopped dead in your tracks. “Sunghoon? What about him?” you asked, chest constricting at the mere thought of him and at the implication that something had happened to him, even if you were the cause. He hadn’t said it in so many words, but it was clear the truth had been revealed to Jake, and for some reason, it didn’t surprise you. You knew they roomed together and assumed Sunghoon must’ve told him. You tried your best to take it in stride. “I thought we said the hockey team was off-limits after Heeseung,” he said sternly. “Also, Sunghoon, of all people?” he adds before you can say anything. “That’s like, my bro. And he’s the nicest guy ever. Not the perfect pick for one of your victims, I must say-” “Oh, please, he’s not a victim. He’s a consenting adult.” “Then why is he so upset over you spending more time studying than with him?” “That’s the male ego for you, Jakey.” Your brother sighed deeply. “He’s really hurt, Y/N. If you were going to reject him, you could’ve done it nicely.”

You frowned. “Who said anything about rejecting him?”

“You’ve shut him out. You’ve shut all of us out.” Jake was staring at you, trying to get you to look at him, but you kept your gaze on the ground and kicked non-existent pebbles around, hands hiding in your coat pockets. “You might not have meant it as one, but he took it as a rejection.”

You scoff. “There was nothing to reject. It’s not like we’re actually together.”

“Yeah, thanks for telling me anything was going on, by the way.”

“It wasn’t any of your business.”

“It is, ‘cause it concerns my sister and my best friend.”

“He’s your best friend?” you echo, a teasing smile on your lips. He rolls his eyes again.

“God, maybe you guys aren’t so bad together after all. But Y/N—I’m serious. You need to do something.”

“Why can’t he?”

“Because you’re the one who’s been fucking around.”

Ouch. “You’ve known about this whole thing for what, two days, and you’re already blaming me for the fact that it’s not going perfectly? How little do you think of me?”

“I don’t think little of you, Y/N, I just know you have a track record of not being serious about relationships.”

Your body tensed up. Maybe it had been a particularly long day. Maybe it had been a long time coming. Tears well up in your eyes—a sight you’ve not let your brother see in many, many years.

“You know what, fuck this, Jake. I’m stressed enough as it is. I’ve done my best with what I have, and you don’t get to pin this on me. As if I was the only person in that relationship. If Sunghoon has a problem, he can take it up with me directly.”

You walked away. Jake called after you once, and when you didn’t come back, caught up with you. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I don’t wanna upset you. I just-I hate seeing him hurt, you know? And you too.”

“I’m glad my feelings are of some importance to you.”

“Of course they are,” Jake said, too concerned to detect the sarcasm in your words. “And you’re right, I’ve only heard Sunghoon’s side of the story. But it really sounded like-”

“Listen, Jakey, I really don’t wanna do this right now. Let’s talk about it when exams are over. I can’t have anything else taking up mental space. I mixed up my Greek third declension endings earlier.”

“God forbid.”

After some arguing, Jake let you off the hook—“Just for now,” he said. You’d get him to recount his and Sunghoon’s conversation in excruciating detail later.

You come out of an evening of contemplation resenting Sunghoon for bitching about you to your brother, of all people. As if he had been begging on his hands and knees for your devotion, as if you had been cool-headed and detached and not thinking he’ll ask me to be his girlfriend any second now every time you spent time together. You told yourself you were well and truly done with him for the time being. If there was anything to salvage, that was future you’s problem.

But late on Thursday evening, Jay sent you a voice message, something he only did when he was gravely drunk, shouting over loud chatter and rap music that Sunghoon hadn’t shown up to a party and was apparently still practicing. You’d caught wind of their loss at the game, and even though your heart had swollen with concern for Sunghoon, very well aware of how important winning was to him, you’d managed to squash it down. You had bigger fish to fry, namely, an Italian written exam that made up 75% of your overall grade for that course. But after ten minutes of re-reading the same three lines of an article from Republicca, you couldn’t get the image of Sunghoon skirting endlessly around the ice rink and potentially hurting himself out of your head. You told yourself you only had this one exam left and plenty of time to revise for it, packed up your things and headed for the rink.

It was past eleven p.m. when you got there. The rest is history. 

Your grievances came out in an ugly way, but Sunghoon’s refusal to listen to you got the best of your nerves, and although you really did feel that your worry was more genuine than his, you didn’t truly believe that all he wanted from you was sex—at least, you hoped it wasn’t. It was the first time you ever saw any sort of negative emotion on Sunghoon’s handsome features, be it anger, sadness or pain. It tugged at your heartstrings, made you want to wrap him in your arms and get him away from whatever it was that tugged his eyebrows into a frown—even if that was you.

Now, as if the water has inched up your ankles and frozen over, your feet stay planted on the ice for a while after he’s stormed off. You don’t even realize you’re crying until a hot, salty teardrop falls on your lips.

Your feet regain control of themselves, and they seem to move of their own accord as they guide you right in front of Sunghoon’s dorm room. You’re barely conscious as your knuckles rasp against the door, and the tears that had fallen back behind your eyes spill out once more as soon as your eyes meet his. He’s just come out of the shower, a white towel wrapped around his hips, another one that he uses to dry his hair. His movements stop when he realizes who’s standing at his door, mouth falling slightly agape, chest visibly rising and falling. He’s so beautiful, you feel your heart breaking all over again.

Sobs pour uncharacteristically out of you, so much so that you have to hide your face behind your eyes. He ushers you in, holds you tight as everything flows out, the stress, the resentment, the loneliness, the longing. How could he be so close yet so far away this whole time? Did he want those miles of distance between you, or had you forced them upon him?

Sunghoon smoothes your hair down and shushes you, telling you it’s okay and that he’s here, voice strangled as if he’s on the verge of crying, too. A part of you still feels angry towards him, but the bigger part of you knows only he can give you the comfort you need.

“I missed you,” you say when you’ve calmed down partly. You only realize how true those words are once you’ve spoken them. You’ve missed waking up next to him, watching trashy reality TV together, taking coffee breaks that lasted too long in-between study sessions. You’ve missed the scent of his hair, the scent of his skin, you’ve missed watching the way his back muscles shift at the slightest of movements, feeling the weight of his head as he lay on your chest. All for a bunch of As you would’ve gotten without exerting yourself so much anyway.

“I missed you too, baby. Where did you go?” Just like that, you break down again, and he dissolves into apologies. “You’re here now, it’s all that matters,” he whispers against your hair.

“You didn’t see them, Hoon. You didn’t see the way they looked at me,” you say, struggling to speak, unsure you’re even making any sense but unable to stop. “I got As in everything, I worked so hard. Just one B, one week where I had four things due at the same time. Their faces, Hoon, like they were thinking, what was the point of letting me do this degree if I wasn’t even going to excel in it?”

“But you do excel in it, Y/N. You’re amazing at what you do. And even if you weren’t, you love it, and that’s what matters the most.”

“Not to them, it doesn’t.”

“Then forget them.”

“I can’t, Hoon,” you say, voice trembling. “I just can’t. I need them to be proud of me.”

“Isn’t it enough to be proud of yourself?”

“I wish it was.”

“Does it help if I tell you how proud I am of you and of how hard you’ve worked?”

He doesn’t see it, your face is still hidden in the crook of his shoulder, but a small smile makes its way to your lips. “A bit.”

“Then I’ll tell you everyday until you don’t need their approval anymore. They don’t deserve you, Y/N. They don’t even see what an amazing, beautiful, smart daughter they have. Or her sort-of-okay brother.” You laugh, and so does he. Sunghoon’s words and soothing touch against your back already alleviate the weight on your heart. “But I see it.”

You lift your head to look at Sunghoon. His eyes are glassy. “You see how amazing, beautiful and smart Jake is?”

He laughs again as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, exactly.” The way he looks at you makes you wish you could go back to the day you met him and right all of your wrongs. No more hiding or running away. You only want to stay under that gaze of his. But sadness soon replaces the joy in his eyes. “You mean so much more to me than you give yourself credit for, Y/N. This has never been just about sex for me. Not even for a second.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Then what has it been about?” 

He frowns like a student in an advanced math class who’s just been asked what three plus three is—isn’t it obvious?

“I love you.”

Your eyes dart between his as if searching for any trace of deceit there. Of course, you don’t find any—because there hasn’t been any since the start. You’d let your own fears invent things that weren’t there. Your lips tremble and you find yourself bawling on his shoulder once more, your tears like a well that digs deeper and deeper so as to never run out of water.

“I hope these are good tears,” Sunghoon says light-heartedly, but you can detect the nervousness behind his words. You nod your head vigorously, willing yourself to say something back, but your tears overflow, make your breath hitch.

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” you manage in between sobs.

“I didn’t think it was the kind of thing you wanted to hear,” he explains.

“I was waiting for you to say something.”

“I didn’t know. I thought I was being obvious enough.”

“You probably were. I was the one who couldn’t see it,” you admit.

“I thought you didn’t want me like that.”

“I thought you didn’t want me like that.”

Sunghoon chuckles, a sound of relief. “I’ve wanted you like that since the start.”

“I think I have too.”

“You think?”

You lift your head again and when your eyes meet Sunghoon’s, it feels like coming out of your hiding place hours after the round of hide-and-seek was over. He hadn’t forgotten to come and find you. He was waiting for you to reveal yourself.

Which goes against the rules of hide-and-seek, but you don’t blame him.

You smile; he smiles, deep dimples carving crescents into his cheeks. “I love you, too.”

You hadn’t realized how cold your hands were until Sunghoon found them.

--

Everything after that was a blurry mess of tangled limbs, warm kisses, happy tears and relieved laughter.

Your touch had always been intoxicating, but Sunghoon was particularly sensitive to it that night. The mix of not having felt you close in weeks and the heightened emotions driven by your confessions made his skin tingle everywhere it came in contact with yours. He’d never slept so little without regretting it in the morning.

It goes without saying that most of the night was not spent talking, but you still had things you needed to discuss. The two of you laid out all of your fears, and Sunghoon was immensely relieved to finally get a glimpse into that mind of yours. He made you promise to always tell him what was going on, and he promised you you’d never be too much for him. Always just right.

Now, he gets to wait outside of your exam hall with your favorite flowers in hand, to put his arm around your shoulders during movie nights instead of holding your hand beneath the blanket, to kiss you over the barrier at the end of a hockey game he won. Heeseung’s narrowed eyes at the sight of the two of you is an added bonus.

You text him that you’ll hang around the locker rooms after the game so that you can head to the party together. The end of December is nearing and you can’t wait for the new year, for twelve whole months of not hiding your feelings for Sunghoon from anyone, not even from yourself, least of all from him. At least, that’s what you told him in a sappy, drunken voice message at two a.m. the previous night when the girls made you drink a bottle of prosecco to yourself—their way of congratulating you for an arduous but successful exam period.

He steps out of the locker rooms with Jake and Jay. You’ve never looked quite as pretty, face lighting up as you spot the three of them, his jersey on your shoulders. You’d worn it during your last exam—“I thought it might bring me luck to wear a pretty boy’s name on my back,” you’d told him, to which he’d replied that it was good practice for when you actually took his last name. You’d looked away, fighting a smile.

Now your smile is full-blown as you look at him, but the downside of being an official couple is that Jake has now more material to tease the both of you with.

“Oh my God, you waited for me, what a sweet sister I have been blessed with!” he exclaims, arms outstretched as he barrels towards you.

“Fuck off, Sim,” you say but accept his hug nonetheless. “Nice game.”

“I know.” He pulls away and ruffles your hair. Jay nods at you like you’re someone he shared a class with back in second year and not his friend of almost three years.

As if on cue, just as Sunghoon reaches you and envelops you in a hug, Jake turns around and yells loud enough for all the players spilling out of the locker rooms, “And don’t forget to wear protection! I’m not ready to be an uncle yet.”

“That’s disgusting, Jakey,” you yell back, and he smiles proudly. Sunghoon had never thought the day would come where you’d initiate a kiss in a room full of people—he’s on cloud nine when you take his head in your hands and press your lips to his, murmuring praises about how well he played.

“It was all for you, baby,” he says, trying to appear cool even though a blush is creeping up his ears. 

“Not for the recruiter of the national team?” you asked with a smirk.

He smiles, shrugging. “Maybe a bit for him too. You’re the one I want to impress.”

“Consider me impressed.” You stand on your tiptoes to kiss him a second time.

You head towards your friends, hands warm against each other.

--

In classic mysterious Jay fashion, he organizes a New Year’s Eve party that he can’t attend himself.

He’s on holiday in some exotic country halfway across the world with his family, but he’s offered up their house for a celebration and tasked Jake with making sure no one trashes anything.

The party started three hours ago, and you’re sure it’s in full swing by now—you’re sure everyone is having a jolly old time, getting drunk enough to welcome the new year with a hangover, searching the crowds of people for the person they’ll want to kiss at midnight. You’re sure that people are having so much fun that whoever notices your and Sunghoon’s absence might think you’re missing out.

And maybe you are—but there’s nowhere you’d rather be than where you are now, straddling your boyfriend’s lap in the backseat of his car. He’s a little bit tipsy, you’re a little bit tipsy, it’s obvious in the way you kiss each other, messy, impatient, interspersed with giggles and with perhaps too much tongue. Your hands are not much more polite, harshly grabbing at his hair just the way you know he likes it, and neither are his, having snuck their way underneath your black satin dress long ago already.

When Sunghoon pulled you away from the party, you’d appropriately exclaimed, “But the party?”, to which he replied, “Fuck the party.” It wasn’t like him to curse, or to have anything but a bashful smile on his lips, like a guilty dog who’d been caught doing something it knew it shouldn’t, even though he was just standing there, so when you see his stoney expression, you think something serious must’ve happened.

The something serious turned out to be “that guy who was touching your shoulder.”

Clearly, it’d take Sunghoon a little bit more time to be entirely secure in your relationship. In the meantime, you didn’t mind letting him fuck his jealousy away.

Although he’d been the one to whisk you away, you’re the one who finds yourself begging for him to speed things up. Your flimsy thong does absolutely nothing, so you’re basically grinding yourself bare against his clothed erection—and it’s not like the fabric of his suit trousers is very thick, either. A girl can only put up with so much dry humping before having her boyfriend’s dick inside of her goes from being a want to a need.

“Need you, Hoon,” you coo against the shell of his ear. A few words usually do the trick, but Sunghoon has other plans tonight.

“What do you need, baby?”

“You.”

“I’m right here,” he says, punctuating his words with a squeeze of your ass.

“You know what I mean,” you say, practically whining.

“I’m not sure I do, actually.”

You pull away and, looking at him directly, say, “God, Sunghoon. I want you to fuck me.” His shit-eating grin simultaneously makes you roll your eyes and goes straight to your core.

“That I can do.”

He keeps one hand on your ass as he loosens his tie first, then undoes his belt and trouser buttons. His slacks and underwear pool around his ankles, and all he needs to do is hike your dress up around your hips and push your thong to the side. You wrap a hand around his dick, but your mind is too hazy to do much with it—he’s started rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb, the pressure and speed as perfect as it always is. You let your forehead fall against his shoulders and moan unabashedly, thankful he decided to park the car far enough away from the house.

“You like it when I touch you like this, baby?”

“I love it, Hoon.”

He hums his approval. “You’re so perfect. So perfect and so wet for me, isn’t that right?”

You start to say “yes,” but you interrupt yourself with a gasp. You hold onto Sunghoon’s arm, feel his muscles move under your palm as he slips two fingers inside of you without warning. “Please,” you choke out, a tight knot already forming in your stomach.

“Please what?”

“Need you. Need your dick, baby.”

He smiles as if endeared, but his words couldn’t be more different. “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before going off with some random guy the one minute I was somewhere else.”

“He’s just-fuck, Hoon, he’s just a mutual friend of Jay and I. Fuck, right there, baby.” Forming coherent sentences when Sunghoon’s fingers flick against that perfect spot deep inside you again and again is no easy task, but you need to defend yourself.

“Right there?” he echoes, voice a whisper against your ear. When you nod, eyes shut tight, he slips his fingers out. You look at him, betrayed. “That’s too bad. Why don’t you ask him to touch you right there, hm?”

You don’t know how much of his jealousy is put-on to get you to beg and how much of it is real. You make a mental note to have a conversation with him about this later—right now, you don’t mind playing along if it means your boyfriend will deign to fuck you. You know he wants to, he’s just making you work harder.

You move your hand up and down along his dick, brush his reddening tip with your palm every now and then. “He couldn’t touch me like you, Hoon.” You lean in and trail kisses along his neck, his jawline, his ears. “Can’t fuck me like you, either.”

With exams, hockey matches and any other responsibilities out of the way for winter break, the two of you had had an obscene amount of sex in the past couple of weeks. You’d done other things, of course, namely having much-needed conversations with each other, your friends, your families. Sunghoon’s mother was overjoyed at the news, glad her “duckling had finally met someone” — her words — and his sister kept stealing his phone from him to talk to you when you were on FaceTime. You and Jake had gone home for two days for Christmas, and although Jake had needed to pep talk you into it for over an hour, you managed to tell them that you wouldn’t stand for being belittled for your life choices anymore.

But in-between these conversations, you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. You’ve grown more comfortable with each passing day, both of you bolder in vocalizing what you want and how you feel. And so, you quickly found out that your Sunghoon, your shy, sweet Sunghoon, got off like nothing else on salacious words. In line with his possessiveness, he loved hearing about how he and only he could do these things to you; in line with your need for validation, you could practically come from hearing his praises alone.

“That’s right, baby.” Like the gentleman he is, he fishes out the condom wrapper he had gotten ready from his trouser pocket, tears it open with his mouth and rolls the condom on with one hand, his other one still preoccupied with you. “Come here, my love,” he whispers, his sweet tone worlds away from his previous teasing, almost cocky one. He grabs your hips, guides you closer to him and lines your entrance with the tip of his dick. He lets you go at your own pace, rubs your thighs soothingly as you sink down onto him slowly and adjust to his size. You throw your head back, mind hazy with pleasure as you move your hips back-and-forth against him.

“You feel so good, baby. You’re doing so well for me.” His words make you pick up your pace, and you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers grabbing at his hair and sides of your faces pressed against each other as you start lifting your hips and sinking back down. Sunghoon’s hands hold your ass tightly, guiding you up and down. It’s hot in the car; sweat runs down your hairline and your back, air is running low, the windows are fogging up, but it only adds to the dizzying bliss growing in you. Even the seatbelt receiver digging into your knee doesn’t bother you.

“Feels so good, Hoon,” you moan.

“I know, baby.”

Your hours of studying everyday means your thighs aren’t the strongest—good thing for you that your boyfriend has enough stamina and strength for the both of you. As soon as he feels you tiring, your rhythm becoming slower and more irregular, he picks up your slack. One hand on your back, one arm around your waist, he presses you close to him, his hold on you so tight you can barely move. He bucks his hips harshly into yours, faster and faster, making you cry out with every brush of his tip against that spot deep inside of you. Your whole body shakes with pleasure as your moans grow higher and louder, until the tension in your stomach hits its apex and unravels. A gasp leaves your throat as you come around him, but he’s unrelenting, the overstimulation quickly making tears form in your eyes. Strings of curses and praises of how perfect you are spill out of Sunghoon’s mouth disorderly as he reaches his own end.

Together, you take your time catching your breath, his fingers roaming your back while you trail soft kisses all over his face and neck. “My pretty baby,” he whispers, and it makes your heart swell with so much affection for him that you press your lips to his, shutting him up in case he says something that actually has you exploding.

You wish you could spend some more time just the two of you before returning to the party, but when you check your phone, it’s already five minutes to midnight—he puts his clothes back on as you fix your hair in a rush, Sunghoon helping you wipe away traces of mascara under your eyes, and together, run back to the living room where everyone has gathered. You find Minjeong, Yunjin, Chaewon and Jake, who has Jay on FaceTime. It’s only five p.m. where he is.

Everyone counts down from ten together. The first thing you do in the new year is kiss Park Sunghoon—and you’ll make sure it’s the last thing you do, too.

© asahicore on Tumblr, 2024. please do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works. support your creators by reblogging and leaving feedback!

permanent taglist: @zreamy @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts @moonlighthoon @4imhry @rikisly @loves0ft @iamliacamila @theboingsuckerasseater9000 @chaechae-23 @baekhyuns-lipchain @hyuckslvr @vernonburger @amorbonbon @fluerz @jakeflvrz (ask to be removed/added!)

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Dead of Night - Spencer Reid

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Spencer stumbles upon a secret dark fantasy of reader’s and does everything he can to be the one to fulfill it.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: This is the first time I’ve ever written anything with themes like this so feedback is definitely appreciated. Not proofread cuz this is long and I’m tired ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I fully understand if the themes included in this are not for some of my regular readers and I encourage you to scroll if you’re not comfortable with any of the following warnings.

TW: perv!spencer, dom!spencer, mask kink, knife play, blood, dubcon, kind of cnc but it’s emphasized repeatedly that reader initiates and is in control of what is taking place, unprotected sex, penetration, creampie, degradation (slut), pet names (doll, angel) religious imagery, gun mention, std testing mention, fem + afab reader, soulmate talk

Rating: R, 18+

——

You knew it was wrong, you’d seen just how easily Penelope was able to track someone down through their “anonymous” profile on websites just like this one, but your desires got the better of you, and you just had to try.

Your profile was nondescript, your age, a vague physical description of yourself, and a link to a meticulously detailed account of your wildest fantasies. After weeks of back and forth, chatting with a few equally nondescript profiles, you found the one that you really clicked with, the stranger you decided you’d let sneak into your window and do whatever he wanted with you. After an std panel and the agreement of your safe word, you decided to fully commit, sending this complete stranger your address and logging off for the night.

Even though you knew this was a stupid idea, you weren’t a complete idiot, you had plans in case anything went south, including placing your handgun in your bedside table for easy access if you, god-forbid, had to use it. Placing yourself in a high-risk situation was the whole point, and you couldn’t wait to see how it turned out.

You spent the remainder of your afternoon preparing, doing every grooming ritual you’d usually do before a date, but this time felt somehow more important. You didn’t even know what this guy looked like, and yet, you wanted to be the picture of beauty for him. It was silly, but you always pictured yourself the prettiest you’d ever been when you daydreamed about being ravaged by a stranger. You wanted to be completely irresistible in every way, and you were doing everything in your power to accomplish that.

As the sun finally set, your excitement levels began to rise, anxiously awaiting the arrival of your masked suitor. You opened the bedroom window just above your fire escape, the cool night air drawing goosebumps over your exposed skin, only a thin lace slip and matching panties adorning your frame. You crawled into bed, double checking your bedside drawer before pulling your comforter over your body, eagerly drifting off to sleep.

—

Spencer had been keeping a secret, one that he did not want you to know about, until today. A few weeks ago he’d stayed late to finish up some paperwork for the last case you’d been on, when his pen ran out of ink just as he was about to sign off the last document. He walked to your empty desk, reaching across it to grab a pen from the cup next to your monitor, when his arm brushed against your mouse, causing your display to light up.

He knew he shouldn’t snoop, but curiosity got the best of him, scanning through the title of each tab open on your browser until a certain website caught his eye. He went against his better judgment and clicked the tab, his jaw dropping upon viewing your profile, and with it, the graphic description of your sexual proclivities. His brain immediately cemented that information in his mind’s eye, fit to torture him for days after the encounter.

He couldn’t stop picturing himself fulfilling all of those desires for you, having to excuse himself to the bathroom several times a day to take care of the bulge in his pants just from being around you. He eventually bit the bullet, creating his own profile on the website and messaging you as an “anonymous” suitor, beyond pleased when the two of you hit it off. He felt bad not telling you, but this was a means to an end that would surely leave you both satisfied, and the devious part of him won out this time.

He did everything you asked, getting tested so he could fuck you raw, he was apprehensive about the risks of a potential pregnancy even without the fear of std transmission, but the way you begged so beautifully in your messages for him to creampie you was more than enough to convince him. The moment he got your message with your address, he went out and purchased a mask to conceal his identity just like you asked, and anxiously waited for nightfall.

—

The graze of fabric against your skin gently woke you as your bedding was pulled down off of your body, your mind clouded from the deep sleep you’d been sunk in seconds before. You rolled onto your back, starting to lift your head until a large hand clamped over your mouth, forcing your head back down onto your pillow. Your eyes widened, darting around the room before settling on the masked figure on top of you. You tried to scream against his palm, but the sound simply reverberated back against you, muffled by his strong grip.

His free hand made quick work of cutting off your slip, the thin fabric splitting easily against the blade of the knife in his grasp. You struggled underneath him, weakly pushing at his strong shoulders, feigning defense as the heartbeat in your cunt grew stronger by the second. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening, the adrenaline coursing through your veins making you feel almost high.

“Don’t fight it.” He hushed, holding the knife flush against your neck. You slowed your movements, settling for shifting your legs against his. He removed his hand from your mouth, freeing it up to gather your hands to pin them above your head as well as give you an opportunity to use your safe-word if need be.

He trailed the knife down your body, your chest heaving with shaky breaths as the blade scratched a small cut between your breasts, warm droplets of blood forming in it’s wake. He followed the curve of your body, leaving shallow kitten scratches until he reached your hip, using the tip of the knife to carve a heart into your skin. The sting of each movement set every nerve ending in your body on fire, the wetness pooling between your thighs increasing by the second.

He pressed his thumb to the wound, smearing the blood down to the waistband of your panties, using the digit to pull the fabric before letting it snap back against your skin. You gasped, your labored breaths growing more desperate as he brought the blade to slice the fabric, exposing your embarrassingly wet cunt.

“Look at how wet you are, you love this, don’t you?” The condescension in his tone felt almost half-hearted, and the more of his voice you heard, the more familiar he started to sound, but you couldn’t quite place why. You looked down at him, watching his every move as you tried to place him.

He set the knife on the bed, using his now free hand to yank his pants down, his hard cock slapping against his thigh. Your eyes went wide at his size, looking just long and thick enough to have you a little worried about being able to take him raw, but the thought of being stretched to your limits sent another wave of arousal straight to your core and helped quell that fear ever so slightly.

“If you don’t want this, just say the word.” His words dripped from his lips like honey, sickly sweet, and in that moment you had never felt more sure of your desire for anything in your life.

—

Spencer wondered if the way he was feeling was akin to that of religious psychosis, so engulfed in your very being that he ought to worship at your altar for the rest of his life, fit to carry out any act you requested of him.

His brain kept your description of your fantasy scrolling in the back of his mind, catering to everything you had written to a T in hopes of making this a night you’d never forget. The only thing at the forefront of his thoughts, however, was the intoxicating sounds you made every time he gripped or marked your skin. Each note sought to pull his focus, threatening his plan as it tempted him to lose control all together. He couldn’t do that, his conscience too righteous in its goal to keep you as pleased as possible.

He took his time, marking you just the way you’d requested, his cock twitching with every whimper that flowed out of you until he finally reached your core, the lace of your underwear glistening under the moonlight cast through your open window from how wet you were. He wanted to sink fully into you without a care in the world, but he had to make sure this was absolutely what you wanted. He was, to your knowledge, a stranger after all, and the last thing he wanted was for you to be uncomfortable in any way.

—

You frantically shook your head in acknowledgment, spreading your legs wider for him, ready for this tall stranger to finally be inside of you. Your eagerness spurred him on, a surge of confidence washing over him as he let go of your wrists, his large hands gripping your hips and pulling you further down the bed. He lifted your legs so your knees rested atop his shoulders, his rough movements making you gasp.

He brought his cock to your core, running the shaft through your slick folds before slapping the head against your clit a few times, the repeated hits making your hips jolt ever so slightly. He hummed low in the back of his throat, lining up his tip with your entrance before thrusting forward, bottoming out inside of you in one fell swoop.

“You’re so tight.” He grunted, one hand holding an iron grip on your thigh to hold your leg up, the other digging fingerprints into your hip. You gasped once more at the intrusion, feeling more full than ever before as he set a steady but unrelenting pace. Your gasp turned to crying moans, brows furrowed in awe at the way his cock stretched you so deliciously, prominent veins rubbing against the contours of your sensitive walls.

Each snap of his hips had his balls slapping against your ass, the lude sound mixing with his grunts and the wet squelching where your bodies met in the most intimate way, the decibel level in the room reaching an all-time high.

You bit your lip, trying to quiet yourself to at least somewhat lower the noise and not disturb your sleeping neighbors, but the absence of your desperate moans was not lost on him. His pace slowed, his left hand firmly gripping your chin to force you to look at his masked face. His eyes met yours through the thin slit in the dark fabric.

You knew those eyes, those big, soft brown irises, so comforting, yet darker than you recognized, pupils far more blown than you’d ever seen before. You knew him, but there was no way. Your mind must have been playing tricks on you, because there was no way that Spencer Reid would do anything this perverse, let alone with you.

“Louder, slut.” He squeezed your cheeks, forcing your lower lip out from under your bite.

“I-I’m not a slut.” You mumbled, barely above a whisper.

“Only a slut would leave her bedroom window open, practically begging a stranger to come in and fuck her.” This was far too brazen to be Spencer, you thought, a level of blunt confidence you’d never in a million years expect from him.

“I-I didn’t mean to.” You stuttered over your words, raising your voice in an attempt to half heartedly defend your actions.

“Well then, you should really be more careful next time.” He laughed, releasing his grip on your face before playfully slapping your cheek and increasing the pace of his thrusts, his now free hand finding your clit. His calloused thumb drew broad strokes over and over and over against your sensitive bundle of nerves, a knot tightening in your stomach as you drew closer and closer to your release. You turned your head, trying to bury your face in the pillow as you writhed underneath him, your body frantically looking for relief.

“Oh don’t be shy doll, let me see how much you’re enjoying this.” His tone was almost sing-song, clearly enjoying this just as much as you were. He pressed his body down closer to yours, almost pinning your thighs against your stomach, the change in angle forcing a borderline scream from your lungs, crying out strangled ‘uh’s with every stroke. You looked him in the eye, desperate to know if this deity above you could possibly be your nerdy coworker, and every interaction you’d had with him flashed before your eyes.

Every fleeting glance he took at your chest or your ass, the way he lingered behind you in the field, feeling his presence even when you couldn’t see him. You couldn’t think of a time he wasn’t around a corner when you turned it, always near whenever you needed his help on a case. You always secretly hoped he'd make a move sooner or later, but you never thought it would be anything like this.

He was omnipotent, knowing exactly how to make you feel things you’d never felt before, pushing your body to levels of pleasure you never thought possible. You thought you might disappear, your brain short-circuiting as you tried to make sense of everything, finally understanding why the French refer to orgasms as the little death.

Your walls fluttered around him, the sounds leaving you reduced to pathetic whimpers as your vocal chords grew strained.

“That’s it, cum on my cock, angel.” He groaned, his thrusts growing increasingly desperate. The pet name surprised you, but if he saw you as an angel, how fitting considering how godlike he felt to you in that moment. You could tell he was close, and if your orgasm was what would get him to cum inside you, then so be it. Your eyes glazed over, your hands clawing at his back as you chanted ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ like a mantra, wave after wave of euphoria washing over every nerve in your body.

—

Spencer was a man possessed, his primal urges leaving his mind completely uninhibited, so lost in your body that he thought he might need divine intervention to ever leave you.

He didn’t quite understand where the sudden dominant urge coursing through his veins had come from, but he didn’t care to dwell too much on the thought, content to fuck you into the mattress until you screamed his name.

He knew that wouldn’t happen, but he secretly hoped you’d realize who he was, wishing for nothing more than for you to want him for him. His heart felt like it may burst at the thought, the desire to be wanted as he was ever-lingering inside of it, that being the very motivation behind his lingering tendencies from the start.

As your heat contracted around him, he felt an embrace like no other, hoping the myth of twin flames to be true. If this connection wasn’t proof of it, how could he rationally explain anything? He knew the scientific reasoning behind it, but it didn’t feel like enough, such a finite explanation for a feeling so sempiternal.

He wondered if you felt the same way too, so lost in his every desire that he let himself dive into the delusion, using the pet name he wished he could call you every day for eternity.

Your chants and cries as you came set him free, his hips stuttering as he finally filled your aching cunt to the brim with his seed. He hovered above you, catching his breath, watching your expression soften as you rode out your orgasm, practically glowing.

When he finally snapped out of his lust-fueled haze, he fully remembered his role, pulling out of you and quickly scrambling to stand, fixing his pants and underwear. You had agreed to his departure after, and as badly as he wanted to hold you until you drifted off to sleep, he respected your wishes more than his wants. He walked to the window, lifting his leg to climb out of it when you cleared your throat, drawing his attention. He turned, seeing you sit up, hazy smile on your face.

“Thank you.” You sighed, and he gave a nod of acknowledgement before slipping out of the window and into the night.

—

When you awoke, you had a couple minutes of doubt in which you thought the events of the night before had all been a dream, until you moved to get out of bed and winced at sting from the shallow marks adorning your body and the dull ache between your legs. You smiled to yourself, before looking at your phone and realizing what time it was. You were going to be late, and panic set in when you realized you’d have to go to work in the makeup you’d fallen asleep in last night.

You rushed out the door, checking your makeup in a compact mirror in your car, wiping a small bit of smudged mascara off of your brow bone before walking into work.

“Fun night?” Derek quipped as you walked through the doors, always the first to poke fun at your perceived escapades.

“You could say that.” You laughed, setting your handbag on your desk before joining the team to walk to the conference room.

“What happened?” Penelope asked, almost panicked, taking your arm in her hand and pointing to the only visible cut on your body.

“Oh that’s nothing, I just scraped my arm on my car door.” You reassured, smiling at her. As much as you loved your best friend, she didn’t need to know the truth of your little white lie.

“You should really be more careful next time.” Spencer’s voice came from behind you, his hand gently resting on your hip before squeezing right where the heart shaped cut from the night before was inlaid in your skin. His words reverberated in the space between your ears as your brain processed what he’d just said.

Realization hit you like a semi truck, your lips parting in shock. Your suspicions had been correct, and you almost wanted to turn around and kiss then interrogate him right there. You couldn’t do that though, having a full work day in front of both of you.

Now you just had to figure out a time and place to broach the subject with him without completely humiliating yourself.

——

part 2 can be found here

tag list: @pleasantwitchgarden @lover-of-books-and-tea

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my general or spencer reid taglist :)

[maplesyrupsainz]

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙do-over | MV1˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: max verstappen x fashion designer!reader y/n (she/her)

genre: social media au, "enemies" (exes) to lovers

warnings: i just be making shit up fr

summary: in which they meet again and rekindle their relationship much to the delight of their fans

a/n: tbh i got no idea how to do enemies to lovers so i went for like a past messy breakup nd rekindle of the relationship now they're older nd more mature or wtvr let me know what u think!!! this was a req but it was super duper vague so i jus pulled this together nd pls fr bare in mind tht im not a max verstappen fan by any stretch lol

request!!!: Enemies to lovers with Max please

fc: maggie lindemann

my masterlist

alternate ending

instagram ->

yourusername posted a story

liked by yourbff, yoursister, and 83,238 others

twitter ->

messages ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, yourbff, and 927,194 others

yourusername heard you need inspiration

view all 18,293 comments

yourbff my girl forever nd ever ⭐️

liked by yourusername

user1 new fan gained

user2 omg i rmmbr her from when she dated max & now im just rediscovering her she's sooo gorgeous wtaf

user3 i can't believe max fumbled her

user4 my competition for her hand jus tripled

user5 quadrupled more like

user6 max verstappen found dead

user7 cant wait for a new collection

yourusername posted a story

liked by maxverstappen1, yourbff, and 318,928 others

ynupdates I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

yourusername i love u 🫀🫀

user8 u are fr the coolest girl in the world

yoursister so proud of you 🥹

yourusername stop it you'll make me emotional 😭

user9 you are so so loved

user10 nothing you could've said would put us off supporting u forever🤟

messages ->

instagram ->

maxverstappen1

liked by landonorris, yourusername, and 719,948 others

maxverstappen1 life lately ⏰

view all 15,283 comments

user11 Y/N IN THE LIKES I REPEAT Y/N IN THE LIKES

user12 no freaking way

user13 i need to know what's going on have they spoken since the podcast ?!!

user14 exes to lovers arc incoming🥹

user15 he's so cute

landonorris why is your comment section so full up of drama max

maxverstappen1 i didnt ask for this

user16 max is so tired of us LOL

user17 not sorry

user18 i love drama

user19 max acting dumb like he didnt post this to get her attention

ynupdates

liked by user17, user3, and 18,294 others

ynupdates y/n y/l/n spotted today outside a cafe with ex beau max verstappen, following the release of a podcast episode on which y/n discussed her feelings on how the relationship played out. the meet up has come after they were seen liking each other's instagram stories & posts, however the discussion they were having reportedly seemed heated and as though they were having a disagreement. rumours/theories of them rekindling their romance were rife but what is the consensus now? we are sending our love to y/n as always!

view all 6,183 comments

user20 omg what is happening

user21 im so surprised she even met with him

user22 he wants her back & she cant deny him bc every girl has a soft spot for their first love

user23 agree but tbh it's probs good tht they argued or wtvr coz she isnt giving in to him she's making sure he fights for her 🤷

user24 some of u guys are delulu af

user25 what i would give to be a fly on the wall in that convo

user26 i hope he's changed or at least fr lets her move on

yourusername

liked by yourbff, maxverstappen1, and 798,373 others

yourusername never lonely 🖤

view all 6,183 comments

user27 omg first time we've seen y/n with her guitar in ages

user28 the guitar omg

yourbff best girl in the world

yourusername i love u 🫀🫀

yoursister hard at work or hardly working?

yourusername shut up you

danielricciardo you better not be drinking tequila without me!

yourbff we wouldn't dream of it

user29 omg daniel publicly being friends with y/n !!?

user30 something is changing here

user31 there's something in the air 🤔

yourusername posted a story

liked by yourbff, danielricciardo, and 88,294 others

danielricciardo hang tight

yourusername lol thanks??

user32 send locaysh 🤟🤟

user33 we miss u y/n

user34 omgggggg i cant wait for more designs from u

maxverstappen1 posted a story

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris, and 213,293 others

yourbff MAX WHAT ARE YOU DOING

maxverstappen1 getting coffee what does it look like

yourbff i know you're not taking that to y/n

danielricciardo if y/bff/n msgs u ignore her

maxverstappen1 👍

user35 SOMETHING IS HAPPENING HERE

user36 is this for y/n

user37 this plus y/n's story .... the maths is mathing

user38 No freaking way

yourusername posted a story

liked by danielricciardo, charles_leclerc, and 134,293 others

charles_leclerc im on the edge of my seat!!

yourusername 😭 hi charles

yourbff I KNOW WHAT'S HAPPENING Y/N U GUYS ARE NOT SLICK

danielricciardo ignore y/bff/n

yourusername done & done

user39 im spinning around

user40 i've connected the dots

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourbff posted a story

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, and 22,293 others

danielricciardo have you forgiven me yet

yourbff i'll forgive max before i forgive you

maxverstappen1 have you forgiven me?

yourbff what do you think max emilian

yourusername you are not mad at all

yourbff of course not. i always loved max

yourusername 😜

ynupdates posted a story

liked by user22, user8, and 84,283 others

user45 oh my god it's real

user46 NO WAY IS SHE BACK IN THE PADDOCK

user47 & she said she couldn't ever be just friends with her first love...

ynupdates NO YOU'RE RIGHT

user48 they are soulmates for real

user49 i can't believe all it took was a podcast episode

yourusername posted a story

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, and 548,293 others

charles_leclerc i will say i am shocked but happy beyond words to have you back!

yourusername ❤️❤️ catch up soon!

danielricciardo she's back for goood

yourusername don't speak too soon

yourbff can i come

yourusername max said only if you forgive him in writing

yourbff 😑

user50 shameless 🥹🥹🥹

user51 YOU GOT THAT GLOW OF A NEW OLD RELATIONSHIP

ynupdates not you trying to pretend you aren't ecstatic

user52 i want whatever max verstappen has

ynupdates posted a story

liked by maxverstappen1, user44, and 128,103 others

user53 the lol

ynupdates trying to pretend i care about racing😕😕😕

user54 he's down bad for her always has been always will be

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, and 828,045 others

yourusername weekend off

view all 5,921 comments

user55 they're just friends they're just friends they're just friends

user56 i dont believe it for a second

yourbff get back to work

yourusername im busy right now

yourbff oh i wonder what with

user57 max max max max

user58 she gets prettier everytime i see her

maxverstappen1 so glad to have you back on the paddock y/n ❤️

yourusername glad to be back !

user59 they r so stiff

user60 trying to trick us into thinking they arent in love

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, yourbff, and 982,193 others

yourusername all the good in my life

tagged: maxverstappen1, yourbff

view all 21,283 comments

user64 SHE LOOKS SOOO HAPPY

ynupdates her smile😭😭😭

yourbff the way you're glowing

liked by yourusername

maxverstappen1 i love you ❤️

yourusername i love u too 🥹🫶

user65 i'll never recover

user66 the new (old) f1 it couple

user67 best wag of all time

user68 cant wait to buy all of y/n's new collection

user69 literally same it looks soo cool

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, yourbff, and 1,284,083 others

maxverstappen1 i won

tagged: yourusername

view all 34,838 comments

ynupdates omg she is so hot what the hell

maxverstappen1 you're telling me

user70 OH MY GODDD

user71 her in max's car oh myyyy

yourusername wow

yourusername i love u fr

maxverstappen1 ❤️

danielricciardo you're welcome everyone

yourbff you do not get credit for this

danielricciardo have you forgiven me yet

maxverstappen1 and me?

yourbff no never

yourusername tell the truth y/bff/n

yourbff ok fine i was never mad

THE END 🤍

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 24

part 1 | part 23 | ao3

cw: alcohol, throwing up, brief reference to canonical character death

"Oh, my god!" Robin barks, nearly throwing herself off-balance again with the force of her laugh. "This is too good, man. You truly cannot escape your babysitting duties."

"Can I help you?" Max seethes.

Help him? Help him? "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" She gestures to the guy she's holding onto, some fluffy-haired kid with a cut-off vest covered in safety pins that Steve sort of vaguely recognizes as one of Eddie's friends. Oh, shit. Is Eddie here finally? Has he seen him?

"Wait, where's Lucas?" Steve asks.

"Who cares?" she bites back.

The guy gives a nervous chuckle and loosens his grip on her waist. "Uh-h. Did you say babysitter?"

"He's not actually, Jesus. I'm fourteen; I don't need a babysitter. And he was just leaving, anyway, right?"

Her glare feels like a slap. Girl's got daggers in her eyes, holy shit. It's like she's hoping some of El's powers magically transferred to her; like she's picturing him flying ten feet into the air and landing with a splat on the far side of the concrete, and he doesn't need this. He did not come out tonight to be bullied by a teenager. "Okay, that's it, I'm taking—"

"—me to the punch bowl!" Robin interrupts, putting her hands on Steve's chest to stop him from grabbing Max and hauling her back to the car.

"Robin, what—?"

"Yep!" She shoves him hard, pushing him to the edge of the dance floor. "Silly me, just dying of thirst, ha ha. Okay, cool, see you both later!"

—

"What the hell was that?" Steve demands when they're safely on the far side of the pavilion.

"An intervention."

Oh, my god. May he never hear the word 'intervention' again in his life.

"Un-ruffle your Mother Hen feathers for two seconds and think, would you? One: it would look really, really, seriously weird for you to be seen dragging a dead jock's kid sister kicking and screaming to your car."

A dead jock’s kid sister. Jesus, tipsy Robin has no tact.

"Two: you said we were going to go out and have fun and get, and I quote, 'very drunk.' Take your babysitter hat off for one night. She's a high schooler, and this is a high school party."

"Yeah, I know," he sulks. Doesn't need the reminder that he's technically past the age limit.

"Okay, so then let her have fun! It's not like you weren't out drinking and smoking by her age."

'I'm always so right about everything. I'm, like, cosmically correct.' Goddammit. Steve needs another drink. "I just don't want her to do anything dumb and get hurt."

"She won't. We can just, like, keep an eye on her from a distance, right? Let her come to us if she needs anything."

"So we should just act like your parents?" Steve snorts.

"My parents are amazing, thank you!"

"Your mom offered me mushroom tea once."

"Like I said: amazing."

Steve huffs a laugh, flips his hair out of his eyes and snags a handful of tortilla chips. "Okay," he says around a crunchy bite, "so what's the third thing?"

"Third thing?" Robin asks. She’s not even looking at him anymore, her eyes eager and distracted as she scans the crowd.

"You're biting your lip weird, there's clearly a third thing."

She turns to him, and the smile springs free from its containment, spreading all over her flushed, ecstatic face. "Vickie just showed up."

—

Steve’s hammered.

Whoops.

Didn’t mean to do it; feels a little bad about it as he tips his head up to the sky and all the stars go raining in bright streaks across his vision. Reminds him of the ceiling at Starcourt, nauseous and spinning under a swirl of bright fluorescence. He hopes Rob’s flirting is going well.

He meant to get politely drunk.

A socially appropriate amount.

But then Robin ran off to flirt with Vickie, and Steve was doing his best to just lay low, steer clear of Max and maybe find a way to casually run into Eddie if he could find him, when he spotted the girl he went on that disaster of a date with instead and realized his options were either: stay there by the beer coolers while she came over with her new date and subjected him to the most painful small talk of his life, or retreat to the dark edges of the party with as much booze as he could carry, so.

He's slumped on top of a picnic bench downwind of the bonfire, bad ear ringing, belly full to bursting, trying to remember when one beer became… more than one beer.

Five?

Six, maybe?

Fuck.

“‘M gonna puke,” he confesses to the splintered wood beneath his feet; to the pine bough overhead, the smoky fire at his back.

“Wow,” someone says, an amused lilt to their tone, and Steve knows that voice, he—

Oh, no.

Ohhhh, no.

Now? Really?

Steve whips his head around, opens his mouth to ask ‘Eddie?’ and barfs all over his shoes.

—

part 25

tag list part 1 below the cut, let me know if you want me to add you tomorrow (21+ only, please confirm your age if you're asking to be tagged)

@a-little-unsteddie @ahsokatanoss @aliea82 @alyelf @anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @awolfstudio @bambibiest @bananahoneycomb @bookbinderbitch @bronwenmarie @cheonsazu @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @courtjestermunson @cuips-not-cute @dauntlessdiva @dawners @dontwasteyourchances @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @eriquin @estrellami-1 @fandomfix8 @gregre369 @griefabyss69 @grtwdsmwhr @hallucinatedjosten @hellion-child @hiimlevi @honoragreyskull @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @kas-eddie-munson @kingelyx @lifeisacrisis @littlebluejane @marvel-ous-m @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @milklechee @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @munsonslure @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @phoenixtheone @questionablequeeries @runninriot

[gatorbites-imagines]

Bakugou x male reader where Bakugou got a thing for lingerie so he buys some to try on but is a little self-conscious and kinda runs away to bathroom to hide so reader don't see him, reader comfortes/reassures him that ofc he's beautiful and pretty. after comes the fucking

Katsuki Bakugou x male reader

Headcanons

(Aged up characters, obviously)

Im not dead, how is everyone? Trying to get back into writing now that I have time. Not too smutty, more focused on the fluff, but I hope that’s still enjoyable.

Reader is based vaguely off Hiromi Higuruma from JJK, cuz im a sucker for tired lawyer type dudes.

Katsuki has always been the type of person to put on a tough front, that didn’t lessen after you two started dating. You met after he graduated UA and set up his own agency, when he needed the best legal help to set it all up.

He didn’t really know how to act around you in the beginning, with your dry humor and the fact that you didn’t take him too seriously. You had a quirk license, but you never once planned on being a hero, since the system was corrupt and broken in your eyes.

This also led to your guys first major argument, way before you started dating. But being forced to work together for months meant you guys grew closer. At this point Katsuki also learned about your quirk, which was the ability to see and use people’s karma against them.

This meant you could “see” when people were lying, but it was more of a sense than sight, but that’s the easiest way to explain it. it was also how you were able to point out quite early on that he was lying through his teeth when he snapped that he didn’t like you.

Being with somebody who could easily point out when he was bluffing or trying to hide how he really felt, was something Katsuki wouldn’t like in the beginning, since it meant he couldn’t use his usual defense mechanisms.

But as time passed, Katsuki was able to be himself more and more around you, seeing as you could always sense to some degree when he was hiding something, and all your court work meant you could easily tell when there was something he wanted to say but couldn’t get himself to do it.

It meant that Katsuki finally allowed himself to start exploring other parts of himself and his interests. Being soft and harmless has never been something the explosion hero had seen himself as, but with you it just came easy.

And if he imagined being your cute little househusband who would greet you when you get home form a difficult case, who would undo your tie for you and massage your shoulders, only to show you the silk pieces he wore in your favorite colors, then it was just for Katsuki.

Katsuki can’t explain what came over him when he bought the lingerie pieces he had been glancing at for months. Maybe it was the extra hours of hero work that left him loopy and exhausted, or it was that deep urge to be small, soft and pretty, instead of big, tough and strong,

He could deny ever having bought it, since you guys had your own personal finances. That was until it came in the mail, in a nondescriptive box that just looked like any other package. It had Katsuki thinking it was something random he had bought, until he opened it up and was met with soft pink tissue paper and a personalized “thank you for supporting my small business” card.

The stickers, raspberry candies, and a guide on how to wash and care for the lace, was shoved aside. Bakugou went bright red as he pulled the tissue paper open and saw with his own eyes the pieces custom made for his build, in the softest of pinks and whites.

Part of him wanted to just throw it away, even if hed spent way too much money on it. but another part of Katsuki was excited, a soft shudder run down his spine as he rubbed the material between his calloused fingers. Maybe he could just… try it on. That didn’t mean he had to use it for anything, right?

It didn’t take Katsuki long to move into the bathroom across from your shared bedroom. It was large enough for both of you to have your space, but most importantly, it had a large mirror where you could see yourself with ease.

In his nervous excitement, Katsuki didn’t realize the guide for caring about said lingerie had been brushed to the floor, just barely tucked under the kitchen table where hed dumped the other packages you guys had received.

The blonde was a blushing mess as he tucked the lingerie on, breathing shaky and uneven as he felt the soft delicate lace and fabrics brushing against his muscular scarred body. Hed always looked strong and dangerous, but like this he could almost see himself as… delicate.

The shape of the lingerie made his already small waist seem smaller, whilst also supporting his pecs and squeezing around his thighs in ways he knew would have your hands twitching with the urge to grab.

Katsuki was too distracted with admiring himself to notice you arriving home, your tired voice calling out to him as you knew he would be around. His silence had you raising a brow as you tucked off your coat and tie.

The pile of packages wasn’t anything new. Being a hero meant Katsuki got a lot of mail shipped directly to him, and you got things every now and then too, though it was normally thank you gifts from clients.

The soft pink paper under the table caught your attention, and after picking it up you could help but huff softly in interest. Was Katsuki trying to surprise you? How sweet. Better not keep him waiting then.

Your quirk allowed you to see vague splashes of color and waves, each color and swirl showing different feelings and intensities of said feelings. His embarrassment and arousal had you softly chuckling to yourself. The shame and fear mixed into it was worrying though.

It wasn’t hard to figure out where he was. If the light under the bathroom door wasn’t enough to tell you, then the intense swirls of colors radiating through the doors cracks was another sign. This truly made him feel good, you could tell. It also meant you felt bad that he hadn’t come to you with this before, as it clearly made him feel some type of way.

“Katsuki?” you pipe up, knocking softly on the door, eyes locked onto the swirls of color and waves that seemed to twist and turn, wanting to gauge his reactions and feelings. The flashes of new colors and erratic waving made you frown. Why was he scared? Self-conscious?

You didn’t say anything about what you had found in the kitchen, instead letting Katsuki take all the time he needed to answer. A gruff but meek “what?” snapping through the door.

Inside the bathroom Katsuki started to feel horrible, wrapping his arms around himself. Hed been so distracted oogling at his body and the lace that he hadn’t even noticed you coming home, what type of hero was he to not realize?

The self-conscious feelings welled up, the imperfections he couldn’t see before almost blowing up to a much larger, much more noticeable scale. Why would you find him attractive like this? All muscles, sharp edges and ugly scars?

“What are you doing, honey?” you hum, keeping patient and open. Sure, you were jittery with the want to see him in whatever he had bought, but it was clear Katsuki was uncomfortable, mostly with himself than anything.

“Just- fuck. Go away for a moment, ill be out” he snapped, voice raising a few octaves that told you he was starting to get distressed. Katsuki couldn’t figure out why his eyes were welling up, or why he felt so weak and vulnerable like this. But the very thought of you seeing him like this and rejecting him felt worse than any wound he had ever gotten.

“What if I want to see” you mumble, close enough to the door to know he would hear you. Your quirk let you see the rapid fluctuations in the colors and swirls. Shock, annoyance, depressive self-hate, self-consciousness, begrudging acceptance.

He clearly wanted to demand to know how you knew what he was wearing, but Katsuki grumbled a little to himself. Of course you knew, you knew everything, you weren’t heroes go-to lawyer for no reason.

You took a small step back as the door unlocked, and nothing could have prepared you for the sight that would meet you. A hot breath was puffed out your nose as Katsuki stood so meekly before you, scarred arms still protectively wrapped around himself.

The longer you went without speaking, the more distressed your lover seemed to get, his red eyes

flicking from your face to the wall to the floor as he worried at his lip.

Finally, your explosive lover seemed to snap, throwing his arms out in a frustrated “say something for fuck sake!”, his eyes wide but shiny in a way that spoke of tears. His usual posturing and loud tone didn’t really have the same effect when he was wearing that pretty lingerie, and he was flushed so prettily in the face.

“you’re so pretty…” you finally muster out, his still locked to his face and body, hands clenched at your sides as familiar heat bloomed inside you like hot syrup. It wasn’t the usual ravenous hunger that had you bending him over the kitchen counter, or shoving him under your desk in your office, but it was similar.

He scoffed at your words, but his redder face and the bright colors swirling around him made it clear he felt flattered and noticed, a soft whimpered noise leaving his clenched lips when you finally started to touch him.

It was strange to have your usually self-assured and decided lover shuddering and gasping weakly from your hands just running up and down his sides, brushing against the delicate lace and the different stitches and patterns.

“s-stop saying stupid shit” he mumbled, his voice even sounding softer and more vulnerable than Katsuki normally allowed himself to be. The tone of Katsuki’s voice jumped up into a yelp as your hands grasp at his pecs, petting at his nipples through the sheer fabric, already so hard and sensitive from all his self-admiration earlier.

“If you don’t believe me, let me show you” you grumble out, finally looking Katsuki in the eyes with the look of a wolf about to eat its prey. The explosion of bright colors around Katsuki was euphoric in your eyes, even as he yelped when you picked him up with ease. The bedroom was right across the hall, but that wouldn’t stop you from carrying him there.

Katsuki wrapped his arms around his chest again as you laid him carefully on your shared bed, too flustered to look you in the eye. But you knew he wanted too, he was just to shy to allow himself to feel this way, which just meant you had to show him.

The gasped yelp that left him as you slide his thighs apart brought a hungry smirk to your face, Katsuki’s wide red eyes finally snapping to your own as you slowly slide lower and lower between them. You would make sure Katsuki felt more confident before the night was over, that was a promise.

[babygorewhore]

Tempo

Frat!Rafe Cameron x sporty! fem reader!

As Kiara’s older sister, gifted athlete and now college student, you never had time for dating. Or time to acknowledge your secret crush on Rafe Cameron. But when your eighteen year old little sister visits, she pushes you to attend one of his parties.

W.C. 2.4k. I was requested by anon for inexperienced!reader! And size kink! I hope you enjoy!! I lowkey wanna burn this lol

Warnings! I am NOT an athlete by any means so this is very vague lol. Size kink! Inexperienced reader! Manhandling, slapping kink! (Rafe likes to be slapped) degrading, praise, oral! Fem receiving! Unprotected sex! Reader is sporty and frequently works out. Kiara is also OOC but it’s my fic lol. Dividers by @xxbimbobunnyxx

Getting a visit from your parents and little sister motivated you for the performance as you accepted flowers and praise after the competition. Your mother and father finally allowed Kiara to stay the weekend with you on campus, you managed to convince them that your eighteen year old baby sister would be completely safe with you.

You knew they were mostly attempting to keep her away from Pogues back home but with your down to earth nature she felt comfortable to get along with you.

“I don’t know why you’re wasting your time studying something else. Why don’t you go to a fancy art school or some shit? Follow your dreams!” Kiara flopped on your bed in your dorm and you sighed.

“Because. Sports aren’t a long lasting career choice for me. Besides, if you want to live with me, I need to have a good paying job, right?” You countered as you sipped a protein shake.

“You need to stop thinking about everyone else. Think of yourself. You don’t have a life. All you do is study, work and compete. You’ve got to be so bored.” She argues, folding her arms.

“I’m not bored, Kiara. I stay busy and I’m fine with that. And I do have a life! I have a few friends and I have you.” You mumble and she lifts herself up, walking over to you and lightly elbows you.

“You know how much I hate them, they’re a waste of money that could be used for donations but what about parties? Have you gone to any?” Rolling your eyes, you groan at her lecture.

You knew she was jealous of your freedom, considering her relationship with your parents and her full time job. But she also didn’t understand you. The pressure you’d always been under. At a young age, you were in gymnastics. Building your body like a machine while you spent everyday challenging yourself to meet your next goal. And you were good at it.

Your wall was covered in medals, your shelf had a few trophies and photographs of your proud moments.

Dancing was a natural evolution for you. Something you’d discovered when one of your gymnast friends opened their own studio after graduating high school a few years ago. The fluidity of movement, the tempo of the beat and music brought you to life. You were strong, frequently at the gym to keep up with having to flip yourself around in the air with your part time job that was physically demanding.

Your life was fast paced, a competitive streak in your blood motivated you to remain disciplined and focused. Your guilt for being so busy was one of the reasons you wanted Kiara to stay with you this weekend. But she did have a point.

You didn’t have time for dating. You’d never had a boyfriend, guys in the past weren’t exactly pleased that you could fairly put up a physical fight given your athletic lifestyle and razor sharp drive. Men found you…boring. You had an obsession with Halloween and darker things too. It was a nice change from the neon uniforms you were forced to wear.

Her question about parties reminded you of a instagram post you were tagged in yesterday and Kiara must have sensed your train of thought. “Don’t tell me you were invited to one and you’re not gonna go?”

“I’ve been too busy! Plus I wanted to hang out with you-“

“It’s tonight?” She shrieked and started shoving you to your bedroom. “What the hell are we doing? You need to get ready.”

“Kiara, I’m not going to some stupid party. I’m tired from dancing earlier and besides Rafe Cameron isn’t going to notice one person who doesn’t show up.”

“I fucking knew it. You’ve been crushing on that asshole for years. That’s why you were so happy you got into this school.” She accused and you defensively shook your head.

“No I haven’t-“

“Me and Sarah knew you liked him when you shoved him in the pool years ago when he was messing with us when you were life guarding. And that’s why you always offered to babysit during high school. You just wanted to be near him.” Kiara made your jaw drop and you turned away.

“That’s not true! He’s a dick! Why would I like someone like Rafe? That’s why I’m ignoring his invitation.” She extended her hand.

“Let me see the post.” You grumbled something about how your little sister was the one bossing you around and you slapped your phone in her palm.

She read the invite with her mouth parted. “It’s a fucking Halloween themed party? You can dress up and you’re not going? He’s obviously obsessed with you.” You yank your phone back.

“What are you talking about? He’s not!”

“He was there tonight. I saw him watching you dance in the crowd.” You gasped and you felt your cheeks burn. “And now, he’s doing something knowing you like it. Get out of those damn sweatpants and put on something cute. You’re going to that party.”

“No I’m not! I don’t like Rafe Cameron and listen here you little goblin,” Kiara ignored you as she dug through your drawers for another set of clothes.

She tossed you an oversized shirt with skulls on it, knee socks and your converse. “Here. This is good.”

“Why do you want me to go so badly? You hate Rafe!” You complained and she waved her hands.

“Yeah I do. But I want you to have fun. Let loose for one night. Show off what you worked for and finally put yourself first.” You raised an eyebrow.

“You really wanna talk to someone don’t you and you don’t want me hovering?” She was finally silent for a few seconds and you smirked triumphantly. “Fine. I’ll go to this damn party.” You walked away, preparing to change clothes but you gave her a light smack upside the head.

“Ow! The hell was that for?” She whined.

“For telling me what to do.”

You felt your heart in your throat as you knocked on the door of the house where the party was held. You could hear the sound of music and chatter from behind the door as you shifted your weight from leg to leg.

Your face was covered in makeup and your jewelry dangled from your neck as you waited. The entrance opened and Topper ushered you in. “Hey! Look who it is! The girl of the hour!” His arm slung around your shoulders and the bustling crowd cheered. You awkwardly smiled and waved. Girl of the hour?

“Cmon. Rafe is upstairs.” Just the mention of the males name made you swallow thickly and you followed him. A lot of people were wearing costumes, fake blood and merchandise from scary movies.

You recognized Rafe because of his clothing and body but his face was covered. He was wearing a Ghostface mask. Plain black shirt and jeans. Your eyes widened briefly when he turned, noticing you before you smoothed back your nerves and approached him. He met you half way and looked down at you, mask tilted.

“You did show up after all, princess.”

You give him a smile. “Yeah I did. I heard you were at the dance. Did you like what you saw?” You didn’t know where this confidence was coming from but he seemed to be enjoying it. Rafe stepped a little closer, “Oh I loved it, baby. That’s why I told everyone to dress up. Gotta celebrate my little champion, huh?”

“Champion?” You parrot and he chuckles.

“Of course, Angel. You think I’m stupid or something? I’ve been a big fan of yours for a while. I couldn’t wait to get you here so I could have you all to myself.” He trails off quietly and you feel his big hands settle on your hips, squeezing lightly.

“Well, we’re not alone,” You respond and he tugs you against him, as much as you love the mask, you wanna rip it off.

“Easy fix, baby girl. C‘mon.” Instead of walking, Rafe lifted you off the ground and you squeaked. Throwing you over his shoulder, he walked through a hallway before opening a door.

Rafe easily tossed you onto the bed, the plush covers and pillows bounced. You shakily sat up as he tore off the mask and looked down at you with a dark smolder.

“Oh, princess. You have no fuckin idea how long I’ve wanted you in my bed.” He leaned down and put both hands on either side of you as you looked up at him, doe eyes staring into his.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything? Why would you like me? I’ve never told you-“

“Like you? Baby, I don’t just like you. I think about you all the time. No one else has made me feel like this. You’ve always stood up to me and didn’t put up with my shit. You think it’s a coincidence that I liked to push your buttons when we were kids?”

You’re breathless as he tugs on the end of your shirt with a smirk.

“I like a girl who pushes back. You’re my strong girl, hmm? But not tonight. You’re not in control for once. I am.” He grips your waist, your bare skin from your top pulled up and your core pulses.

You reach up, lightly smacking him in the face. “You think you can earn my submission?” Rafe gives you a chuckle and flash of excitement crosses his eyes.

“Princess, by the time I’m done with you, you’re gonna be my little fuck toy. You just wanna push my buttons so I throw you around.” His words turned you on more and you shudder as goosebumps rise on your skin. “Slap me again. Get a good one in too.”

“You serious?” You whisper and he nods.

“What? You too scared?”

You slap him. Hard. Hard enough that his face turns but Rafe doesn’t look angry. “That was a good one, baby. But I’m gonna make you forget any other fucker. I’m sure all those other dudes are all over you at the studio or some shit.” He grunts and tugs off your shirt. Exposing your torso and bra.

You have the urge to cover yourself but you resist. “I don’t have time for dating.”

Rafe pauses and raises an eyebrow. “You’re telling me you haven’t dated? You a virgin?”

You bristle. “No but…it’s only happened once.”

Rafe cups underneath your arms and manhandles you higher on the bed. You don’t have time to breathe before you find yourself pinned with your arms above your head, his face inches above yours. “Bet you’re soaked right now. Underneath those panties you wear.”

He reaches in between your legs and cups your cunt. “God damn, princess. This what you needed? Me to take care of you? Shut off that overthinking head of yours?” He muses and you cup his face bringing him down to fuse your lips together in a messy kiss.

He moans against your mouth and shoves his tongue inside, you separate your legs and tug him closer.

“Gonna taste more than your mouth, baby girl.” He promises and kisses down your body, peeling off your underwear.

“I’m gonna worship this perfect pussy. I’m gonna take such good care of my girl,” He mutters against your pelvis. Rafe shoves your thighs apart and buried his head in, making you groan and dig your fingers onto the sheets.

His tongue laps hungrily at your clit, sucking in all your wetness as he moans and grinds on the bed. You whimper as he fucks you with his mouth.

“You like that, babydoll?”

“Mhm! I’m gonna cum,” You stammer and he lifts up, his massive body flexing as he rips off his shirt. Exposing his fit body.

“You’re gonna cream on my dick, then you’re gonna clean it up. Are you going to be a good little whore?” He breathes and you whine.

“Mhm, yes. Please, fuck me. I need it so badly. I want you to fill me up,” You beg and he shoves off his pants. His big, thick dick slapping against his thigh.

“How can I say no to such a pretty girl?” He gives your bare ass a slap before he pumps himself a couple of times, his cock in his fist before he presses into you.

You mewl and bury your head in his neck. He growls and thrusts, hard enough that you almost feel like you’re gonna burst from how big he is. But he quickly adds his fingers to rub your clit.

“This fuckin pussy is mine. It’s so tight, splitting you in two, baby girl. Gonna breed this perfect cunt.” He huffs and your eyes squeeze shut as your peak rises.

“That’s it, princess. Cream on my dick.” He praises and your climax overwhelms you.

You cry out and sink your teeth into his naked shoulder and he moans. He moves harder, bringing slight pain but it only adds to your pleasure. He spills in you, “Gonna stuff you so full of cum you’re gonna be a brainless little doll.”

Rafe pulls out, pumping himself again as cum drips onto the bed. “Give me that pretty mouth, princess. I wanna see your eyes roll back. You can fuckin take it. Like a little champion.”

Tagging @marchsfreakshow @xxbimbobunnyxx @drewstarkeyslut @redhead1180 @oceandriveab @starkeysprincess @rafescurtainbangz @rafeinterlude @gri959 @rafesthroatbaby @slvt4jamesmarch

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for sleeping with a 20 year old?

tw: mentions of potential grooming, age gap relationships, nsft/nsfw, vague discussions of sex

So, me (38m) and my wife (39f) are in an open relationship. Basically, we’re both bisexual and not quite ready to limit our sex lives to one person yet. So, we decided to allow friends with benefits situations outside of our relationship. No romantic stuff, no dating, just sex.

In January, my wife went to stay at her best friend’s (28f) house and have some fun together. I don’t mind at all, I was kind of glad to have our apartment to myself for a week. Now, there’s this queer bar that me and my wife frequent and it’s a good mix of all age demographics and identities.

There’s this one trans guy, I’ll call him M, that most people in the local community know because he’s very attractive. He reminds me of a very short Eric Draven mixed with Eddie Vedder. (Oddly specific, I know) Like, he has long-ish curly brown hair, big brown eyes, the sweetest smile ever and he dresses very well. A little grunge here, a little rockstar there. Good jewelry. You get it.

I always catch people staring at him when he’s at the bar with his friends. (We live in Europe btw, legal drinking age is 18.) In short, I find him very cute. He’s basically a micro celebrity among the community and he doesn’t even know it.

So, while my wife was away I went down to the bar and his friend group invited me to come sit with them. We started talking, he’s super funny and we began talking about Pearl Jam because of the shirt I was wearing. Found out he’s obsessed with the music scene of the 90s, specifically rock and grunge, and I happen to have a collection of merchandise of the big 4. I invited him to come check it out and he eagerly accepted. None of his friends wanted to come, so it was just us two. Showed him the stuff, he got super excited about it and I even let him keep one of my Soundgarden shirts and some CDs.

I offered to cook dinner, we ate and then had some weed brownies for dessert. We got posted on the couch, talked for a good while and he began confiding in me. I’m not gonna go into detail because that’s shitty, but he basically told me he’d never had a positive sexual experience up to that point. Apparently all of his exes were switches leaning submissive and he’s purely submissive, so things never really worked out and he never finished with any of them.

I told him about me and my wife’s arrangements and some other stuff about our sex life. (Don’t worry, my wife is 100% okay with this. Even in this context.)

Here’s where I might be the asshole, if not the creep:

Now, I was pretty high at that point and I joked about how I could give him a positive experience. To my surprise, he actually eagerly accepted. I was a bit hesitant because we were both buzzed, but he kept reiterating that he’s consenting and that he’s sure he wants this. So, I made sure he had a good night and he actually ended up sleeping over and we cuddled. It was super nice and he seemed genuinely ecstatic about it the next morning, it was adorable. I was honestly just happy that I was able to give him a positive sexual encounter.

We exchanged numbers, kept texting for two days and he ended up coming over again. Had some more fun together and he went to go sleep over at a friend’s place. At that point, I sort of realized that I may be catching feelings for him. Which is against me and my wife’s rules and also just a horrible idea, especially considering the age gap. So, I let him know that I need some distance and he was super understanding. He was understandably a bit disappointed but didn’t complain or anything.

Once my wife came back, I told her about everything. This is just a thing we do because it helps avoid speculation and unnecessary jealousy. We always tell each other about what happens with our other sexual partners, but only if they consent to it. Which most of them do because they’re our friends. She seemed a bit unnerved by it, not because of the fact that I had feelings for him, but because of the age difference. She said it’s weird and predatory and told me she needed some time to think.

Apparently, she went to go check in on M and asked him if I pressured him into anything. He said it was a 100% mutual thing and he’s very much into older guys, so he enjoyed it quite a lot.

This put her mind at ease but I’m still quite shaken by it. I never stopped to consider the fact that the age difference is quite concerning. I can’t help but feel like a nasty creep that bribed some poor 20 year with old band shirts to come sleep with him. I don’t like that I didn’t even think about it. Talking with M came so easy and we share a lot of interests. I’m not about to go and say he’s 'mature for his age' because he isn’t, he acts like any other 20 year old.

I was just so focused on how attractive and interesting he is to me, I fear I might’ve acted extremely selfish and should’ve stopped to take his lack of experience and his naivety into account. Of course he’d sleep with me, he’s 20 and doesn’t know any better. It should’ve been my job, as the older adult, to put a stop to it. Please don’t hesitate to give it to me straight.

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[its-time-to-write]

hi, i love your writing! could i request something where jamie and reader are dating and jamie starts introducing them to the important people in his life, like roy, keeley, the richmond boys, etc. and each time they get introduced to someone new, whenever jamie steps away, they basically get some variation of the 'you better not hurt him' talk, and when jamie finds out he's worried that reader is gunna be offended or upset but they reassure him that it's fine, they think it's cute that everyone's so protective of him and that it's nice to see him have so many people care about him

Sorry this took FOREVER. Here it is!

the way it goes

It has been exactly twenty-one days since Jamie asked you out on a proper date, and you’re of the opinion that life can’t get much better than this. You’ve only met two of his teammates so far, (Isaac because he’s one of Jamie’s good friends and Richard because you ran into him while shopping) and honestly, they aren’t what you expected at all. 

They’re kind and they seem to genuinely like working together.

(It’s a little funny to call football “work.”)

Isaac tells Jamie to bring you next time they all hang out, and reminds him to buy more juice packs than last time so they don’t run out again.

—

Turns out the next “hang out,” is a night at Isaac’s, and the whole team is there with various partners and spouses. There’s a strict sweatpants-only drsesscode, and pretty much everyone is in clearly expensive matching sets. You’re grateful that Jamie shrunk a brand-new deep green set the other week, because you didn’t have time to go out and buy something new/not ratty.

There are tables of board games, a pile of snacks, and even a bar. Jamie drags you over so he can get “proper buzzed,” and requests something incredibly complicated from Beard, who appears to be the only coach present.

“Babe,” Jamie says, “you good here? I’m gonna get some food.”

You nod and watch him weave through groups of people. You lean against the bar and wait for Jamie’s drink.

“So,” says Beard, “you’re Jamie’s girlfriend.

You nod. “Yeah, I am. I’ve known him for ages, though. Since I was in uni. Always thought he was just some prick footballer trying to score, if you know what I mean.”

Beard chuckles. “I get it. He’s a bit of an asshole sometimes.”

You grin. “He’s my asshole.”

Beard slides you Jamie’s drink but before he completely lets it go, he says, “Hey.”

His voice has lost its jocularity, so you look up to meet his (very intense, slightly terrifying) eyes.

“Jamie doesn’t need his heart broken. He may have been a giant prick, but he’s different now. He’s not the kind of guy you can just screw and move on from.”

Your mouth has gone a little dry, so you just nod. Right then. You turn to go find Jamie and hope he won’t mind if you take a sip of his drink. You’re planning on staying sober tonight, so that one sip is going to have to get you through till the end.

It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s told you to be careful with Jamie. The first time was actually Roy’s niece, Phoebe. Jamie was babysitting and he asked you to come along, so while he was paying for ice creams Phoebe tugged your arm so you’d get down to her level and said, “If you make him cry, they’ll never find you again.”

You had looked at her in shock while she matter-of-factly stated, “My Uncle Roy’s been teaching me things.”

She said the word things far too ominously for an eight year old, but then Jamie came back and she was all smiles again. 

You got a similar, equally threatening talk from Phoebe’s mum, and then from Roy, and then Roy’s girlfriend Keeley.

Variations of the “break him and I’ll break you” talk had begun to trickle in whenever you’d pick up Jamie from Nelson Road. The tone ranged from Sam’s vaguely threatening, “We all love Jamie very much. We’re incredibly protective of him,” to Jan Maas’s blunt, “If you break his heart, you will never find another date on this entire continent.

Even Ted had a comment, which was more along the lines of, Jamie’s a big softie, he doesn’t need some to play him right now, he needs a real supporter. Each time, you assured them that you weren’t going to hurt him. You didn’t ask why they thought you would be the one doing the hurting when he was the one with the reputation.

Because you are fully aware of his reputation. You hadn’t seen Lust Conquers All, but you’d seen enough clips to piece together exactly how it went. And you’d seen the details of his cheating scandals all over the papers. And dealt with him firsthand while in uni. So yeah, Jamie’s past prick-ish behavior is not a mystery to you.

You find it endearing that so many people love him enough to protect him. It’s a good sign, you think.

You find Jamie carefully stacking various snacks on a tiny, tiny plate. His face lights up when you come into view.

“Oh good,” he says. “Extra hands.” He grabs his drink with one hand and gives you the plate with the other. He starts piling on something flaky and slightly green. 

“Isaac’s girlfriend makes these fucking pistachio things, and they always go way too fast. Gotta eat them while you can,” he says while creating an engineering marvel.

“Glad you like ‘em, bruv,” comes Isaac’s voice from behind you. You jump a little, and the plate wobbles. 

You turn to see Isaac with an absolutely gorgeous woman on his arm.

“I’m Stella,” she says. “It’s wonderful to meet you. We’ll have to have you two over for a real dinner.”

Jamie and Isaac quickly become engrossed in a serious discussion about football tactics, with Jamie downing his drink and then taking the plate of food from you. He was right, those pistachio things are amazing.

You chat with Stella for a little bit and learn she’s the face of a modeling agency and met Isaac during some football/branding thing.

“He was the only one during the entire shoot who made sure I was drinking enough water,” she laughs. “Who knew the way to my heart was through proper hydration?”

You talk a little longer before Jamie’s arm is snaking around your waist to whisk you off to see Dani. It goes like that for a little while until you finally settle down at one of the game tables. It’s a card game involving a lot of yelling and pointing fingers.

The house is noisy and cozy, filled to the brim with people who are just comfortable around each other, and you think you’ve never experienced something like this in your whole life.

Jamie on the other hand, is yawning a little bit. His hand, which had been on your knee tracing squiggly patterns, is starting to slow down so you put yours on top of his and whisper, “You about ready to go?”

Jamie nods and presses a kiss to the side of your head.

“Got fucking extra training tomorrow,” he quietly laments.

You get up to leave and Jamie follows suit with a very loud pronouncement that he’d rather be somewhere private, much to the amusement of the Greyhounds who begin to hoot and whistle. You roll your eyes and smack his butt on the way out.

Forty-five minutes later, Isaac’s phone dings with a photo of Jamie in a pink robe and green face mask, hair pulled back in an equally pink and fluffy headband. He’s lying on your bed and he can see the tv screen playing Notting Hill. You’ve typed, Someplace private, my ass, and Isaac just shakes his head and grins. Fucking Jamie. Prick on the outside, softie on the inside.

You better not break his heart, he writes.

HAH comes your reply a moment later. Not a chance.

“Babe, look,” you say handing Jamie your phone. “I’ve collected the whole set.”

Jamie reads your text thread then looks up at you in confusion. “What d’you mean?”

“Isaac is the only one who hasn’t like, threatened me or something if I hurt you,” you reply.

The tips of Jamie’s ears turn red. “What do you mean, the only one?” he asks. “Like, the team?”

You shake your head. “Oh no. I mean, yes, the whole team, but like pretty much everyone who works at Nelson Road.” 

Jamie’s eyes widen as you begin to list people on your fingers. “Alright, so obviously the Greyhounds, plus all the coaches, Keeley, Rebecca, Higgins, Trent, Samantha at the front desk, Gary, Phoebe and her mum, Will-” you pause. “Should I keep going?”

Jamie groans. “Fucking hell. I’m sorry. They’re all twats, except Phoebe. I swear, they’re not always like that. I’ll talk to them and make ‘em leave you alone.”

“No! You can’t let them know that you know! And…” you hesitate, “I thought it was kind of sweet. Like a green flag, you know? They all like you enough to make sure that you’ll be ok, and they want me to know I have something special. Of course, I already knew that,” you continue, “but it’s nice confirmation.” 

Oh. That’s new.

Jamie’s quiet for way too long so you look over at him. “Babe, are you crying?”

“No,” he says, choked up. “Face mask got in my fuckin’ eye.”

“It’s dried solid, babe.”

“Fine,” he says, “I might be a little. But you can’t tell anyone, especially not Ted, because then he’ll talk to me about feelings and shit, and I’d rather eat ten fucking scones than that.”

You laugh and snuggle into his side. There aren’t going to be any heartbreaks here, not if you can help it. You’re both planning on keeping the other around for the rest of your lives.

[shellbilee]

Hey There Darlin' - Chapter 5

A Glen Powell RPF Series

Apologies for the little hiatus guys. I'm hopeful that I'm back to regular posting, Glen's recent content influx has certainly helped with my inspo! Please comment if you'd like to be tagged! x

Billie

Billie hears a groan of effort and looks back at her phone sitting in the cradle on her dashboard. The metallic sound of dumbbells hitting the floor rings out and suddenly a face fills the screen, familiar brown eyes looking back at her. 

“Alright I’m done with my set now, sorry”.

Billie laughs and shakes her head, looking away from the phone and back at her reflection in her rearview mirror. 

“You’re the one that called me, Brad” Billie counters to her brother, smoothing back the baby hairs near her forehead into her slick ponytail.

Bradley, her brother had facetimed her ten minutes ago, Billie having since pulled into a car park at the address Glen had sent her this morning.

“Yeah, cos’ I feel like we haven’t spoken in ages and I miss my little sis’” Bradley says with a smile before taking a quick sip from his water bottle, “Besides, who else am I gonna speak to at this time? You’re the only one I know that would be awake”.

“Speaking of, why are you doing a workout at----” she pauses, lifting her wrist to check her watch, “Three AM?”. 

Bradley shrugs nonchalantly, as if going to the gym in the early hours of the morning is the most normal thing in the world.

“Just came off a week of night shift. First day sleep routine is always kinda fucked. Couldn’t sleep, so figured I’d come and do a workout rather than wake Jords and the kids”.

“Have you tried reading a book?”.

Bradley pulls a face and Billie can’t help but laugh at it.

“Oh yeah sorry, I forgot you’re allergic to reading” she teases, knowing her fire-fighter brother hated every single second of school and study and she, the book smart one in the family, was the complete opposite.

Bradley rolls his eyes and wipes his face with a sweat towel. “Where are you off to anyway? Gym?”.

Billie looks back at her reflection again - she’s wearing activewear again, this time a pair of tight latte coloured shorts and a white racer back tank whose neckline makes her shoulders look toned.

“I don’t know actually. It’s a date” she says with a soft laugh, looking back down at the facetime call.

Bradley snorts. “A date? Dressed like that?”.

This time it’s Billie’s turn to pull a face.

“He said to wear something I don’t mind sweating in, and to bring a change of clothes”.

Billie swears she can see Bradley’s face morph into older-brother protective mode.

“Don’t mind sweating in? Who is this guy?”.

Billie only smiles. “Just a guy I met at Rufus the other day”.

She stays tight-lipped with the rest of the details - namely, that the guy also happens to be a Hollywood celebrity and is so gorgeous that just looking at him makes her want to melt into a puddle on the floor. Though she and Bradley were close and told each other almost everything, she decided to stay vague about her date. 

Right now, she’s happy being in her exciting first-few-dates bubble. And she isn't ready for it to burst by involving other people. She would tell Bradley later, maybe. 

Bradley starts to ask another question when Billie looks down at her watch, looking back at her phone and interrupting her brother to say she needs to go.

“I’m gonna be late ok? I’ll talk to you later in the week?”

Brad nods, “Yeah yeah, you better. Be safe ok?”

“I always am, Brad. Give my love to Jords and the kids yeah?

“I will. Love you Bil”

“Love you too”.

The call abruptly ends and Billie lets out a deep breath, suddenly aware that her heart is hammering in her chest. She’s nervous, nervous to see Glen again even though she’d seen him less than twenty-four hours ago, though admittedly the last time she’d seen him she’d kissed him without warning.

She can still feel his lips on hers, their plush softness moving against hers in a gentle dance, his scent in her nose, his fingertips on her skin. She’d struggled to think of little else during her bosses housewarming barbecue last night, flashbacks of their kiss invading her every thought as she’d mingled with her work friends.

Billie realizes she’s closed her eyes, opening them a moment later and letting out a breath as she looks out the window at the busy LA street in front of her. She double checks the address on her in-dash car GPS confirming she’s at the right place, before taking a final look at her reflection, grabbing her bag and stepping out of the car.

It’s a sunny Sunday morning in LA, the sunshine instantly blinding as Billie closes her car door behind her, reaching up to shield her eyes and looking at the modern brick building in front of her.

Oh my god. 

It’s the Alo gym.

God, it’s a workout date.

Billie can’t help the breath that escapes her throat then.

Glen really did take her advice about unconventional dates seriously.

Fuck.

Billie sucks in a nervous breath and reaches up to smooth down her hair, making her way towards the entrance and doing her best to ignore the mass of butterflies that have suddenly started flapping wildly in her stomach. She knows it’s nerves, but part of her also knows it’s excitement at the thought of seeing Glen again.

She gulps silently.

Here we go.

--

Glen

Glen’s sitting in the entrance area of the Alo Wellness club, relaxing into one of the sleek, cream coloured lounges. His right leg is bouncing like he needs to go to the bathroom, but he knows it has nothing to do with his bladder.

He looks down at his phone in his hand for what feels like the tenth time in a minute, looking at the numbers above his screensaver of Brisket.

10.02am.

Glen knows he’s nervous, but he doesn’t know why. He’d been on hundreds of dates in the past but for whatever reason this one feels different. 

They’d spent most of yesterday together, talking and laughing for what felt like hours, they’d even kissed yesterday - albeit unconventionally, but still. His stomach is a tangle of nervous thoughts and feelings, and all of a sudden he can’t help but second guess his date idea. 

Billie had said unconventional, but was this taking it too far? Especially so soon?

He’d come up with the idea almost instantly yesterday, calling Keith, his Alo trainer as he’d driven home from his Ikea trip with Billie. Some part of him had decided that a personal training session for the two of them would be a great second date idea, given he and Billie had bonded over their frequent exercise and gym habits.

It ticked all the boxes - it would be an activity she told him she enjoyed, one they both regularly participated in, and it was certainly not a traditional date choice.

It was the kind of activity that he would never even attempt with a lot of girls, let alone on a second date, but with Billie? It seemed like the perfect choice. At least it had when he’d come up with it yesterday.

Glen shakes his head as if he’s arguing with the voice inside his head, ignoring his thoughts and standing firm on his decision. He exhales through pursed lips and flips his phone over in his hand again, looking up when he hears the entrance door open.

In an instant, all of his fears and concerns are gone. 

Billie looks every bit as gorgeous as he remembers, even better if that were possible, his eyes running over her as he watches her ask for directions at the front desk. There’s a smile on his face before he can even think about it, standing up from the lounge just as the receptionist points in his direction.

He feels the breath catch in his throat when Billie’s eyes meet his, and suddenly there’s a smile on her face too - a smile that makes every single muscle in his chest contract.

Glen stays put as she makes her way over to him, unable to help his gaze from following the sway of her hips. She's wearing a pair of light brown coloured shorts and a tight white tank top, both accentuating her fit figure and making her golden skin glow. 

Glen’s fingers tighten around his phone and he fights the urge to bite his fist and audibly groan, suddenly wondering how on earth he's going to get through this date without dying when she looks like that.

“Hey darlin’”.

Billie grins gorgeously. “Hey you”.

Glen steps forward to kiss her cheek just as she does the same, the turn of her head making his lips land dangerously close to her mouth. He sees her cheeks immediately flush as they step apart, and Glen fights the urge to groan out loud again for the second time in thirty seconds. 

Fuck.

If they hadn't been somewhere so public he'd have tipped her chin and pulled her in for a bruising kiss. 

Glen swallows and reaches down to pick up his gym bag, grinning down at Billie.

“So, what do you think?”

Billie tilts her head and smiles, “I see you really were listening when I said unconventional dates”.

Glen laughs. “Told you”.

“So what are we doing?” Billie asks as Glen gestures for her to follow him, heading over to the elevators at the back of the room.

Glen shrugs and presses the ‘up’ button on the wall, looking up when the elevator immediately dings. “You'll find out in a second”.

Billie laughs and flashes a worried smile. “I’m actually kind of terrified”.

He returns her laugh as the doors open and they step into the modern elevator, Glen stepping forward to press the button for level seven. 

“You’ll be fine, I promise”.

The doors close and a moment later they’re going up, Glen struggling to ignore the less than three inches of space between them. That, and the sweet, spicy peach scent of her perfume that’s once again filled his nose, the one that’s plagued his brain since their kiss yesterday, the one that seems to be permanently burnt into his every waking thought for the past twenty-four hours. 

God.

A moment later the elevator dings again and the doors open almost as quickly as they closed, revealing the sprawling, modern black and white gym floor of level seven.

They step out and Glen smiles when he sees Billie look around in awe, spying Keith up ahead standing and talking to Mike, one of the club’s other trainers. Glen nods when Keith sees him, leading Billie over towards him to introduce her.

“Hey bud” Keith says, pulling Glen in for a handshake hug in that way that only men do, Glen stepping back and gesturing to Billie.

“Billie, this is my trainer Keith. Keith, this is Billie”.

They shake hands and Billie smiles, Glen momentarily caught up in how beautiful he thinks she is for the tenth time in only ten minutes.

“Glen’s told me a bit about you. You’re a physical therapist?”

“Yep! I work at Evolution Sports Rehab, on Olympic Boulevard?”

Keith nods, “Ah I know the one. I’ve sent some clients there before actually, to see Ross?”

Billie nods enthusiastically, “Yes! He’s my boss. He’s incredible. He’s a big part of the reason I’ve worked there for so long”.

Glen watches Keith and Billie chat, impressed at the way Billie so effortlessly converses with new people. He smiles to himself as he looks down at her. 

No wonder she’s such a good physical therapist.

Glen takes Billie’s bag off her shoulder and puts their bags aside, returning to stand with her and Keith holding two water bottles in his hands.

“So, what fresh torture have you got for us today?”

Keith laughs and Billie looks mildly terrified, Glen putting his arm around Billie and offering a reassuring squeeze.

“You did say you wanted a bit of a challenge” Keith says pointing at Glen, Billie dropping her head back in dismay, “And you did say that Billie was basically an athlete”.

Billie’s head snaps back up and she looks at Glen in alarm, “An athlete? On what planet?”.

Keith drops his head back and laughs, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding” he says holding his hands up in surrender, “But he did say you work out quite a bit, so I’ve put together a team challenge for you both”.

Keith turns to make his way over to the squat rack, motioning for Billie and Glen to follow. As soon as his back is turned, Billie punches Glen’s arm playfully.

“You have definitely talked me up way too much”

Glen grins as he looks down at her, winking mischievously. “No such thing darlin’”.

Billie grins and rolls her eyes adorably, Glen taking her hand and pulling her until they’re both standing in front of Keith again.

“So, we’re going to do a bit of a circuit challenge. It will be a mix of strength and cardio, but you’ll need to work together to get through it” Keith says, pointing at various equipment around the room. “There will be ten stations, and at each one there will be a rep target which you can divide up between you, so you can sub in and out as you need”.

Glen reaches up to stretch his arms above his head, the corner of his mouth tugging into a sly grin as he looks over at Billie’s wide eyes.

“For example, battle ropes. There will be four hundred reps. Billie you could do one hundred, then Glen does a hundred, and repeat until you get to four hundred. Ideally, the goal is to do the entire circuit in under fifty minutes”.

Billie exhales loudly. “Have you done this exact circuit with people before?”

Keith nods. “The record is forty-six minutes”.

Glen bends his left leg behind him, holding his ankle so he’s stretching out his thigh, glancing down at Billie and back to Keith. He scoffs out loud.

“Forty-six minutes? Easy”.

The look of alarm is back on Billie’s face, though this time she’s looking at Glen like he’s insane. 

Glen can’t help but chuckle at her expression.

“What the hell have I gotten myself into?”

He grins down at her, loving the way she smiles back at him. 

“You said unconventional, remember?”

Billie shakes her head. “I think I’m starting to regret saying that”.

Glen laughs, and they both turn back to Keith.

“So, the key is to know your strengths, and what exercises you’re good or not so good at”.

Billie looks up at Glen, tilting her head playfully.  

“Surely there are no exercise that you’re not good at”.

Glen opens his mouth to speak but Keith beats him to it. “Maybe ask that again when we get to the core exercises”.

Glen pulls a face and both Billie and Keith laugh.

“Alright then” Keith announces, clapping his hands together and looking back at Glen and Billie. “We ready?”

---

Forty-five and a half minutes later, Glen and Billie collapse on the floor on their backs, panting and breathless, and covered in sweat.

Glen feels like his chest is going to explode.

He knows it has nothing to do with the workout he’s just done that has his heart rate hammering at marathon race levels, and everything to do with the stunning, sweaty, sexy girl lying panting next to him right now.

Doing that workout with her was like forty-five and a half minutes of foreplay.  He’d never been so simultaneously impressed and turned on in his life. 

Watching Billie move and jump and squat and press had Glen thinking all kinds of things, things he definitely shouldn’t have been thinking while doing a workout in the gym. He couldn’t help but stare as he did his own exercises, frequently losing count of his own reps, his eyes dragging over her back, her legs, her ass. He was totally enamoured by her, by how strong and fucking sexy she looked, even now as she lay on her back, her chest heaving, breathless from the finishing the fifty burpees they were both determined to get done before the timer ticked over to forty-six minutes.

Glen turns to look over at Billie, his eyes running over her face, her lips parted as she sucks in breaths, her cheeks flushed and covered by a glowy sheen of sweat. He swears she’s never looked more sexy than she has in that moment, and all of a sudden he can’t help but imagine what she'd look like after another kind of cardio that has nothing to do with the gym. 

And nothing to do with clothes.

“That” Billie pauses, sucking in a breath and exhaling loudly, “Was not the way I thought my Sunday would go”

“Probably not the way you thought this date was going to go either” Glen retorts, watching as Billie finally turns to look at him beside her.

She grins at him, that same gorgeous, breathtaking grin, her beautiful eyes sparkling, and it takes everything Glen has not to roll over and kiss her right there in the middle of the gym.

“You guys killed it. Broke the record and everything” Keith says suddenly, standing over the two of them and clapping his hands. “Glen, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you work that hard before. But I guess you had some extra motivation this time”

Glen chuckles and Billie laughs, but it sounds strained through their panting breaths.

“And Billie, that was pretty incredible. You smashed it out of the park, awesome stuff”

“Thanks Keith” Billie breathes, still panting, offering a weak thumbs up before dropping her hand back down to the ground dramatically.

Keith laughs. “You’re welcome”.

They talk for a few more minutes before Keith announces that he has to run to see another client, Keith bending down to shake both of their hands before waving and walking out of the gym. 

Billie sits up and leans back on her hands, her legs still outstretched in front of her. Glen is still lying on his back beside her, dabbing his face with his sweat towel.

“Glen, that was fucked”

Glen tips his head back and laughs, dropping the towel back to the floor. “But you killed it”.

“I think it killed me” Billie replies exasperated, dropping head back and looking up at the ceiling, “I am going to be so sore tomorrow”.

Glen chuckles and moves to sit up from the floor, his sweaty skin sticking to the floor beneath him.

“I really need a shower”.

“That makes two of us” Billie laughs, “But I don’t think I can stand up”.

Glen laughs, letting out a groan of effort as he hauls himself upright and stands. He reaches down for Billie’s hand and pulls her up, unable to stop his eyes from flickering to boobs in the tight white tank she’s wearing.

God.

“I also need food” Billie announces, taking a long sip from her water bottle and smoothing back her sweaty hair,  “I’m suddenly starving”.

Glen nods in agreement. 

“I was going to ask if you wanted to grab a bite after this?” he asks, eyes searching her face as he looks down at her, “If you still have the day free of course”.

Billie’s lips part into a smile, and Glen can’t help the way his own smile grows. 

“My day is totally empty”

“Oh really?” Glen inquires, one eyebrow raised, “Does that mean I can steal you for dinner too?”.

Billie laughs, shrugging her shoulders adorably, “If you don’t get sick of me before then, sure”.

Glen shakes his head and reaches out to touch Billie’s arm, flashing her his most charming grin and loving the way she looks back at him in that moment. 

“I’m not sure that's actually possible Billie”.

Billie smiles, and Glen can’t tell if her cheeks flushing is from their workout or from his comment.

They walk over to their bags, Glen bending and handing Billie hers before bending to pick up his own. 

“Did you want to shower here? Or head home and meet up again?”

Billie shakes her head and holds out her hand, “I brought a change of clothes like you said, I’m happy to shower here. But it’s up to you?”

“No no, here’s good” Glen says, dabbing at his face again with his towel, “You should see the bathrooms here. They're pretty fuckin’ amazing”. 

They walk towards the elevator and step in when the doors open, Billie’s perfume filling his nose as she brushes past. Glen presses the button for level 12, the two standing in comfortable silence as the doors close and they move up the building. 

The elevator dings and the doors open up to the reveal the luxury spa, shower and sauna level, Glen letting Billie step out in front of him.

“The female bathrooms are that way” Glen says, reaching up to run a hand through his sweaty hair, “I’ll meet you back out here?”

Billie nods, looking over in the direction of the bathrooms and back up at Glen with a soft smile.

“See you in a bit”.

---

Billie

This shower is better than the one at Billie’s house. No actually, it's the best shower she's ever used. At the gym of all places. 

It's all dark moody tile and black furnishings, the rainfall shower head providing the most amazing water pressure on her already aching muscles. Not to mention the luxury skin care products that are just free to use.

She’s in shower heaven. 

Or she would be, if Glen was in there with her.

Billie tips her head back and lets the warm water cascade over her, unable to think of little else except Glen. 

The way his muscles had rippled beneath his skin as he’d pulled himself up on the chin up bar, the way his biceps had flexed and moved as he’d picked up each dumbbell. Billie had barely been able to concentrate on her own exercises, not when Glen was looking like that, and certainly not when he was looking at her the way he had been. It was like he wanted to devour her - and if they hadn't been in public, she probably would have let him. 

Right there in the middle of the gym floor.

Their workout has left her feeling all wound up in more ways than one, like forty five minutes of insane heated foreplay without a finish line. If she were at home, she’d probably play with herself. 

She thinks about Glen in the shower, thinking about how badly she wants to have him pressed up naked against her, to feel his thick arms around her frame, his lips on her skin. 

Fuck.

What was this man doing to her?

Forty eight hours of knowing the guy and she's already desperate for him.

She wonders idly if he’s thinking about her the same way she is right now, suddenly remembering that he’s probably waiting for her outside and that she should get on with it. She exhales heavily through her nose and rinses the last of the soap suds from her skin, letting herself enjoy the shower for thirty more seconds before she turns off the tap.

Billie steps out of the shower and dries herself with the fluffiest white towel she’s ever used, changing into a pair of light blue mom jeans and a loose white button up shirt. She looks back at her reflection in the giant mirror of the luxury bathroom, tucking the front of her shirt loosely into the waist of her jeans and buttoning it just enough that it teases just a hint of cleavage.

She reapplies her makeup keeping it glowy and natural, using the gym’s very expensive hair dryer and blow waving her hair just enough that it’s tameable. She pulls her hair back into a loose braid leaving out a few face framing pieces, spritzing her favourite peachy perfume onto her neck and wrists. She steps back and looks over her reflection once more, deciding she’s happy with her look, packing up her things and walking out of the bathroom.

Billie does a double take when she walks out to find Glen sitting waiting for her on one of the cream leather lounges near the elevator, looking somehow even more handsome than he had earlier. 

He’s now dressed in a cream henley shirt and brown trousers, a pair of brown leather boots on his feet. His shirt is unbuttoned just enough that she can see the beginnings of his dark chest hair, his hair still damp from the shower and falling messily but somehow still perfectly.

As if he wasn’t handsome enough just looking like that, Billie feels her breath catch when he looks up and sees her, his lips parting in an utterly gorgeous smile.

Billie tries not to notice the way her body feels as his eyes run over every inch of her, following her hips as she walks towards him.

“You look gorgeous”.

Billie smiles. “See, I was just thinking that about you”.

Glen laughs and stands up in front of her, pressing the button for the elevator and holding open the door for her as they walk in. 

“Were you feeling anything particular for lunch?” he says looking down at her, Billie standing close enough to smell his delicious aftershave and fighting the urge to reply with ‘Besides you?’.

“I’m not fussy”.

Glen nods. “Good, I know just the place”.

---

Glen

“Were you really?” Billie asks, shaking her head in exasperation, “No way, I’ve seen that movie a thousand times, I’d have recognised you”

Glen laughs and nods his head, putting his hand on his heart to emphasize that he’s telling the truth,  “I swear I am. I’m in the stock exchange scene”. 

Billie’s brow furrows, like she’s replaying the scene in her head, and Glen chuckles when she reaches into her purse and pulls out her phone. 

“No way. I have to look this up”.

They’d just had lunch - they’d gotten sandwiches at one of Glen’s favourite spots near the Santa Monica beach. It was a little hole in the wall place with an outdoor courtyard type area at the back, and best of all, it wasn’t too well known about. On this sunny Sunday afternoon, it was the perfect choice.

He and Billie are sitting side by side in a wooden booth together, having just finished their food. They’d been there nearly three hours now, the conversation and laughs between them flowing effortlessly. It’s only been two days, and yet somehow Glen feels like he’s known Billie for months. 

They’d been talking about music choices when they exercised, Billie revealing that she actually liked to listen to movie scores when she ran - namely, superhero movie scores, saying that they made her feel motivated and pumped to keep going. That had brought them to talking about The Dark Knight Rises, at which point Glen had laughed and told her that he was actually in that movie.

He keeps his eyes on her face as she types on her phone, looking over her glowy skin and dark lashes, her full lips that make him want to kiss her for hours.

He hears the beginnings of a video play, the familiar menacing voice of Tom Hardy’s Bane character, watching as Billie’s eyes suddenly light up, her mouth dropping open in surprise.

“Oh my God it is you!” she exclaims adorably, looking up at Glen and then back at her screen still in disbelief, “How have I not noticed that before? How old are you there? You look like a baby”.

Glen laughs and takes a sip of his soda bottle, tapping his fingers against the plastic. 

“Twenty-something---, twenty-four, I think?” he says just as he hears Bane smash his character’s head into a computer.

“You know, I actually got a real concussion during that take. Tom got a bit too into his character and instead of just tapping me on the head like he was supposed to, he actually slammed my head down. Had to go see a medic and everything”

Billie’s eyes widen in shock for the second time, a soft laugh of surprise slipping from her lips. “Oh my god, really?”.

He nods and they both laugh, Glen looking over Billie as she shifts in her seat to better face him.

The afternoon sun is warm and Glen has since shed his jacket, his gaze hidden behind his sleek sunglasses. He takes advantage of that fact, savouring every moment of his eyes on Billie’s available skin, the edge of a pale blue bra peeking out from the dip of her shirt from this new angle.

He tries not to notice the way one of her denim covered thighs is now pressed against his, or the way one side of her white shirt has slipped down to expose her golden collarbone. He finds his imagination wondering what her skin would taste like on his tongue, how it would feel beneath his lips if he kissed along it.

Billie lifts her hand to look down at her watch and back up at Glen.

“You need to go?”. 

“No no, just thinking about Nugget”.

“If you want to go home and check on him it’s okay Billie”

“I want to” she says, her voice trailing off into a pause, “But, I also don’t want to leave”.

Glen smiles back at her, his eyes crinkling behind his sunglasses.

“Well, how about this then?” he asks, reaching up to run his fingers through his now dry hair, “You go home and grab Nugget, and then the two of you come to mine a little later for dinner?”

Billie tilts her head as looks at him, the corner of her mouth tugging into a smile, “Oh that is incredibly tempting”.

He grins and leans in towards her, loving the way her gorgeous hazel eyes are looking back at him. 

“Anything I can do to make it even more so?”

Billie ponders for a moment, her eyes still on his, her tongue sliding out to wet her pink lips.

“Well, for starters, keep smiling at me like that” Billie says, leaning her elbow on the table between them and resting her cheek on her hand, “Do you have any idea how handsome you are? Like, it's almost unfair how attractive you are”.

Glen chuckles softly, the sound rumbling in his throat.

“I’ve been thinking that same thought about you since the moment I met you at Rufus, Billie”.

“Oh really? You think I’m handsome?” Billie teases, a laugh bubbling up in her throat.

Glen only grins, reaching up to brush a loose hair from her face, swearing he sees her suck in a silent breath.

“Actually you know what” Billie breathes, her voice almost a whisper, “I think there is something you can do to tempt me more so”.

Glen raises a curious eyebrow, acutely aware of how close his face now is to hers.

“What’s that darlin?”

Billie exhales quietly, her perfect lips stretching into a soft, sexy smile.

“Kiss me”.

Glen needs no instruction after that.

He tilts Billie’s chin with his finger and angles her face to his, closing his eyes and pressing his lips to hers.

---

Previous Chapter

TAG LIST:

@wickedtactics @auntiegigi @friedchips94 @maeleelee @jessicab1991 @bellaireland1981 @queenslandlover-93 @itsjustkhaos @kneelforloki @djs8891 @lovemesomevesey @entertainmentgirl80 @buckysteveloki-me @stankface

[dr4kenlvr]

𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃'𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐒 !!

mikey sano, baji keisuke, mitsuya takashi, nahoya kawata x fem!reader - fluff (1.6k+)

request: so i was wondering if i could request headcanons of mikey, baii, mitsuya and nahoya dating their best friend's sister? how their rs is like, how they act around their best friend TBH U CAN WRITE IT HOWEVER U WANT i just really like this trope

nana's note: yes yes ofc!! i had a lot of fun writing this and proud of how it came out (been a while since i've felt that tbh)! i was sort of conflicted on who to choose as mitsuya and nahoya's best friend but i went for hakkai and mucho respectively LMAO I HOPE THAT'S OKAY, please enjoy!

MIKEY

this is so cute because the thought of mikey dating you—draken’s sister—and draken having a crush on dating emma—mikey’s sister—??? everyone is intermingled !!! 

mikey is always mentioning it too; “oh my god aren’t we the cutest? me and y/n, and you and emma! hehehe.”

draken: MIKEY SHUT UP (while profusely blushing)

draken had almost no objection to you and mikey getting together, he really could tell all along that you had feelings for him and vice versa

the only thing that bothered your brother was how childish mikey could be at times, but with considerable thought—maybe he’s the boy you fell for because you knew you could handle it

draken’s sister ain’t no little bitch!! he didn’t raise you like that nuh uh

mikey feels no different with draken after officially labelling you his girlfriend, seriously, it’s like nothing changed

you all knew one another at a young age and practically grew up together

everyone hung out the same, even when you or emma weren’t there

draken and mikey’s bond never faltered, if anything it strengthened—the two of them now had a common goal: to make sure you were as happy as you could be

draken was happy to see you so happy with mikey, and his best friend always gushed about you to him

he tells him to stop talking about his sister all the time but finds it endearing that mikey truly loves you so much

“and then yesterday, she came to my class to give me snacks, ken-chin! your sister is the sweetest, hm?”

draken just absentmindedly hums along to his endless chatter, “alright, i’ll just tell y/n you won’t shut the hell up about her.”

“KEN NOO!”

mikey sometimes comes over to the brothel to hang out with you, and draken always finds it just a little bit irking to find you two in bed together

draken: MIKEY !!!!!!!!!

mikey and you: HELP ME !!!!!!!

he settles down after a bit though, patting you on the head and punching mikey in the gut for good measure

how cute of you guys <3

BAJI

ohohoho chifuyu has got himself a handful juggling his best friend baji whose now dating his sister

you first met baji when your brother brought him over to your guy’s house after school; you recall him vaguely say that he was gonna invite a friend over so you needed to give them “boy time space”

LIKW WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT CHIFUYU LMAOOOO

you didn’t want to mingle yourself with your brother and his friends anyways and only came out of your room to grab a refill of your water

how lucky you ran into baji the minute he’s also in the kitchen, rummaging the cupboards for snacks

“i suppose you’re baji?” you speak up from behind him in an amused tone, smile growing at the shock on his face

he drops a chip bag at the sudden sound of your voice, spinning around to look you before taking a moment to really look at you—‘fuck, she’s pretty.’ he ponders to himself

“fuck, sorry,” he bends down to pick up the snack, “y-yeah, yeah—name’s baji, and you must be chifuyu’s sister?”

you fake a curtsy bow, making him laugh before telling him your name

he tests the syllables on his tongue, before giving a satisfied nod: “pretty name, say.. you wanna join your brother and me for some games? i’ll go on easy on you,” baji gives you a fanged grin

AND THAT’S HOW BAJI MADE A LAAASTING IMPRESSION ON YOU—mf got you hooked so quick, and you’re like.. chifuyu has attractive friends???? my ugly ass brother???? (sorry chifuyu ur so cute ily)

the two of you started dating months after you two met, and it was smooth sailing from then on out (minus the occasional verbal beating you gave baji because of his reckless actions—but honestly, he needed more people who could scold him)

chifuyu always gets embarrassed whenever you two show any sort of affection with him in the same room

LITERALLY YOU COULD BE IN A ROOM FULL OF PEOPLE AND IF YOU SO AS MUCH HOLD BAJI’S HAND, YOU’LL GET A TEXT FROM YOUR BROTHER SAYING:

big bro: could you like not get so touchy with ur bf im right here

AND BAJI GETS A TEXT SAYING:

gangsta chifuyu: can you guys get a different room or something 

IM SOBBING HES SO DRAMATIC—for someone who reads a lot of shoujo manga, he does not like seeing it in his best friend and sister LMAOOO

it’s all in good heart and games though, chifuyu really means no harm

why would he? you’re so happy with baji, someone he looks up to a lot and seeing you two interact can sometimes ignite a warmth in him

baji treats you as good as chifuyu would’ve expected from his captain, and if baji needed any help—chifuyu would be ready to help him whenever <3

MITSUYA

probably the most responsible and respectful out of the whole list when dating his best friend’s (hakkai) sister

you have a big family of siblings, there’s your two brothers and yuzuha—who all have no issue of you dating toman’s third division captain

there is definitely no complaint from hakkai holy fuck 😭😭😭 he is OVER THE MOON, fucking ECSTATIC that his sister is dating THE mitsuya takashi

taiju (post-black dragons arc bc him before was horrible and embarrassing help) and yuzuha know mitsuya will treat their dear sister well, and basically saw it coming at one point

taiju noticed the way mitsuya paid extra attention to you, and looked at you as if you were the only girl in the world—he definitely had a talk with him before mitsuya confessed to you, and was happily met with mutual feelings !!

like mikey, not too much changes between hakkai and mitsuya’s relationship once you and him become a thing

possibly hakkai is… more loud? LMAO

“TAKA!!!! HOW ARE YOU??! WOW—YOU LOOK EXTREMELY HANDSOME TODAY!!” he yells from behind you, dropping you off at the mall to hang out with mitsuya

please he’s getting looks from strangers as mothers drag their kids away from the loud teen

mitsuya is SO embarrassed, and can feel your humiliation radiate off of you from afar

the two of you laugh over it every now and then during your time together, and spend a a great day away from your brother’s loud mouth

girl to girl moment, yuzuha finds it so cute when you gush to her about the things you and mitsuya did together, or the little romantic ministrations he does for you

she smiles fondly as you giggle your fucking head off LMAO

as for taiju … UH you don’t normally find yourself going to him to talk about mitsuya, it’s just not a natural impulse you have + you don’t really know how he’d react to that kind of conversation

he’s glad of it too LOL but sometimes he’ll walk past you on the couch texting someone, and realize it’s mitsuya

your big brother’ll give you a head pat, and ask if everything is going alright with you two, or just in general as a check up—he vowed not to let anyone, including himself harm his siblings (WOO CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT !!!!)

you five + mitsuya’s siblings have a really cute relationship together, everyone in toman views it as one big happy family

luna and mana love you, they’re always so so thrilled when mitsuya invites you over; they particularly love playing princess with you, and of course you’re the princess in their eyes

“y/n’s so pretty in that dress! let’s get her some tea!” mana says as she brings you an empty plastic cup with imaginary tea inside—when you play along with their games and fun, it makes a flutter in mitsuya’s heart soar <3

NAHOYA

when you told mucho that you and nahoya were officially dating, your brother honestly saw no harm in it—only that by being his best friend, mucho knew that nahoya could be a bit of a trouble maker

he can’t find any reason to object the relationship though, he knows nahoya is a good guy and would take care of you well

that doesn’t stop the stoic, big, protective front he gives when nahoya might get a bit too flirtatious with you

“hey babe,” nahoya hums, walking up to you before slithering an arm behind you to rest against your bum

he even gives it a few taps 

THE LOOK MUCHO GIVES NAHOYA FROM AFAR IS SO FUNNY

your brother is always so serious but you swore you saw an eyebrow twitch and a vein pop out

just as nahoya’s about to lean in and kiss your cheek, he can see that from his peripheral vision, that the one and only mucho is approaching you two—at an alarmingly fast pace too

help nahoya’s face is like ¿(￣O￣)? when he sees him coming towards y'all

PLEASE MUCHO LOOKS SO FUNNY SPEED WALKING?? BC HE’S TRYNA BE NONCHALANT ABOUT THIS TOO ASDHSGK BUT DAWG IS HUFFING AND PUFFING WHEN HE REACHES YOU

“what are you doing?” you fight a smile as you look up at your brother, stone face and all

“um, i was gonna to kiss my girlfriend buddy.” nahoya grins, teasing his friend

“that’s my sister.” 

“and she’s also my girlfriend.”

“but, that’s my sister.”

IT’S A GAME OF TAG BETWEEN THEM LMAO—nahoya’s like “what—does it expect me not to kiss you??”

“maybe not in front of him babe?”

“oh.” (-o-)

nahoya takes your advice to not make out with you 24/7 and mucho greatly appreciates it

especially when he comes over, mucho does not wanna walk into that LMAO

other than that, the two go strong—and since nahoya comes over more often, the two of them get to spend more time together outside of toman

it’s really sweet, until they start beating each other up over who won in mario kart <3

taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu @kazuhoya @gwynsapphire @sscarchiyo @reiners-milkbiddies @smileyswifeyy @bontensimp-blog @thisbicc @megumisemo (send me an ask or dm to be added!)

reblogs, comments and feedback are greatly appreciated!

[ddejavvu]

Hi mei!

can i request some dbf!hotch except bc reader is an adult he doesn't actually realise the much younger person he's been dating is bestie's child. (i picture the dad working in fbi/law enforcement so maybe they run into one another at an fbi gala or whatnot)

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

--

Aaron had thought nothing of the fact that the chief of the city they're in had the same last name as you. He's known the guy for years, and when you'd signed onto his team he made a vague connection in his head, but nothing ever became of it. After all, they've met a dozen Morgans in the field, even more Garcias, and even Reid was more common than he'd thought at first.

Plus, he's kinda sorta been mentally referring to you with his own last name for a few weeks now, after you'd pointed out a wedding ring ad in a magazine to him. Said you were 'just looking', but he'd seen the glimmer in your eyes. Bottom line, it takes an effort not to introduce you as Y/N Hotchner to his old friend.

"Chief Y/L/N, this is Agent Y/N Y/L/N," He gestures to you with a soft chuckle, "Maybe you're related."

You give Aaron a funny look, a silly smile on your face, "Uh, yeah, maybe."

"Honey," The chief greets you, and Aaron's polite smile dims as the man reaches out to hug you.

"Dad," You gush beside the man's ear as he squeezes you tight, "It's good to see you again."

"You too," Your dad reluctantly lets you go, after all, there's still a serial killer on the loose, "Aaron, I thought you knew we were related?"

"I didn't," He admits sheepishly, "And you- uh, I didn't know you had a daughter. At least not in the workforce."

"My younger sister is ten," You explain, and Aaron marvels at the age gap, "He probably only talks about her cause she's his favorite."

"She's my favorite because she doesn't excuse me of picking favorites between my children," Your father elbows you with a good-natured grin, "And because she's less rebellious than you were."

"Rebellious," You scoff, "I was an angel."

"A fallen one," Your dad leans in to stage-whisper to Aaron, "The next time she gives you trouble, just call me and I'll tell you about what she was like when she was younger. Whatever she's done will pale in comparison, I guarantee it."

Aaron is only able to chuckle along to your dad's teasing, internally stunned and struggling to comprehend the situation. When your dad turns to head into his office, you pointedly fall back beside Aaron, turning to face him with an amused grin.

"You seriously didn't know?" You cross your arms over your chest, "It's in my file."

"I must have missed it," Aaron admits, brow creasing in confusion and sudden, epiphanic understanding, "Is that why you always turn my picture of the chief and I to face the wall before we have sex?"

"Yes," You laugh, "Why did you think?"

"I thought you didn't like my shirt or something," Aaron muses, "You know I donated that shirt for you!"

You let out a snort, one that you seem embarrassed by if the way you cover your mouth and let your eyes flutter shut is any indication. You take a moment to breathe, "The shirt was fine. Not the best, but not as unsexy as my dad."

"Not the best," Aaron grumbles, turning to busy himself with the whiteboard the precinct has set up, "I loved that shirt."

[wilbursprincess]

okay NOWWWW we need to see Wilbur’s proposal! i know a lot of people have written about how he’d have this big proposal in front of everyone at a lovejoy concert but I personally think that it would be more intimate and well thought out. he’d subtly be dropping hints like asking you to get your nails done, wearing your nicest dress for dinner. after dinner he’d take you back to the beach that you guys go to all the time to watch the sunset. he’s been visibly nervous all week, but more so tonight. his plans are sweaty, he’s constantly checking his pocket (probably to make sure that he hasn’t lost the ring lmao) but your blissfully unaware as always. he asks you to go to the car to see if his wallet is there (it’s not) and when your come back he’s DOWN ON ONE FRIGGIN KNEE.

Wilbur Proposing To You!

Wilbur Soot x Female Reader

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff with one teeny little suggestive line at the end!

Vaguely a prequel to this post about planning a wedding with Wilbur!

OMG ANON IM CRYING SCREAMING THROWING UP I NEED HIM I WANT THIS TO BE ME so i’ll just write it teehee

Headcannons below cut!

~He’d be so nervous, planning it out for weeks.

~Knows you don’t want a massive spectacle, so decides against doing it at a gig.

~Asks Molly to invite you on a nail salon & coffee outing the day before, hoping her ‘idea’ would make you less suspicious.

~”Baby, you should wear that pretty dress I got you last Christmas for dinner tonight. You haven’t worn it in ages, and it looks stunning on you.”

~Hopes you can’t see how nervous he’s been for this proposal, or even all week.

~The plan is a beach walk after dinner, Wilbur planning to pop the question when you reach a secluded spot on the beach.

~Dinner passes without a hitch, the two of you still giggling and flirting like the first date all over again.

~If Wilbur didn’t know it before, he knew now just how much he loved you.

~He loved you so much that he almost teared up, looking at your gorgeous face as you smiled at him and squeezed his hand over the table.

~You two alternate who pays when you go out, and this time, it’s your turn, something Wilbur’s using as part of his proposal plan.

~”Since you payed for dinner, I’ll pay for ice cream from that booth if you want some?” He offers casually, and you nod happily.

~Wilbur pats his pockets. “That is, if you get my wallet? I think I left it in the car.”

~You laugh, kissing him on the cheek and teasing him about being scatterbrained before headed to the car.

~For what must be the thousandth time that night, he checks for the ring box.

~Still there. Just like the previous 999 times he checked.

~”Will, your wallet wasn’t in the ca-“

~He’s down on one knee, diamond glinting in the silk box in the evening air.

~”Will you make me the happiest man alive and ma-“

~Can’t even get the words out before you frantically nod, wrapping him in a tight hug and practically kissing his lips off.

~”You asked Molly to take me for nails for this, I can tell,” you tease, admiring the gorgeous ring on your finger.

~You two head back home for a cozy night in, the only thing on is the radio.

[raffe156]

Playing Favourites

Pairing - Price X MC (Tank) F!reader

Summary - Little fluff drabble that is set the morning after Spoils of war

A/N - Just a quick little thank you and something for you guys to remember its not all doom and gloom for these two! Well it is for the next few chapters but this is set after all that haha also I fully acknowledge Rudy and Alejandro being an item end of :) 

I really appreciate all the recent feedback and asks! Please keep em coming! It only spurs me on haha 

Warnings - Under 18+ DNI,  angst, Smut, (If you squint)  Language,fluff, Age gap Relationship, Price (41) reader (Tank, 26),domestic fluff

Tags:  @irnbru32 @shuttlelauncher81  @mildlyhopeless @mentallynot-here​ @deadbranch @soapyghost​

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Call of duty characters - Only Tank, Luke, Dredd and Mckinley​

Masterlist link here

Price woke to an empty bed, which wouldn’t have normally bothered him at all, but that was before you.

He stretched, his hand finding the warmth you had left, he buried his face on your side of the pillow you shared most nights, the smell of your skin filled his head. He vaguely remembered you kissing him goodbye before you left to get back to your side of the base before everyone was fully awake. He could of happily gone back to sleep, but the sooner he got dressed the sooner he could be in your company again. As he got ready he thought about mentioning you two going on a date when back home, he was thinking about the places he could take you, trying to remember your favourite foods, he knew there wasn't much you didnt like! He remembered you liked the food he had cooked for you that time you came to stay for the weekend with Kyle a year ago, Price didnt like to think about that weekend very often, it had broken up your team, it made you into strangers torn apart, it was the start of a very bad year for all involved, a year he would rather put behind him, so he did or at least he tired.

**********

As he walked out into the main part of the base he couldn’t help scanning the huge bunker for your face, listening for your laugh. Which had to be his favourite sound, well that an when he had you in bed and did that thing you liked were he…

“John!”

He was caught of guard and pulled from his train of thought by Laswell calling him from across the base. She waved him over, he still took a few glances round looking for you, he would find you, he always did.

“Laswell, what can I do for you?”

“John, was starting to worry about you, it's 8am an I'm only just seeing you now?” Laswell cocked her eyebrow at him.

“Had a little lie in, needed it” he wasn’t lying.

Kate looked him up an down, he didn’t look tired if anything this was the best he had looked in a long time she had a sneaky suspicion a certain sergeant had something to do with it, but she kept that to herself. She just hoped that he knew what he was getting into.

“Fair enough, anyway we have a quick briefing later today with Colonel Shepherd, he just wants an update on things you know the drill” she started walking Price followed.

“No problem, who needs to be there, I’ll make sure to wrangle my lot” Price chucked wrangle was the perfect term.

“Just you will do, but if your guys can go meet Shepard’s team that would be great, little playdate” Kate laughed.

“Sure I’ll tell them to play nice”

Laswell smiled, Price looked distracted his mind was obviously somewhere else.

“Lost something John?” She knew what he was looking for, better yet who he was looking for.

“What? No…just wondering where my lot are actually, not checked in with them yet” he motioned for them to walk out onto the tarmac.

Laswell followed she had to hide the smirk, John Price was smitten.

As they walked out of the huge hanger doors, the hot sun in their eyes a yell came from over near the ATV’s. They both shot over a look in the direction it had come from.

Soap was soaked head to toe, his Mohawk flat to his head, jeans now a darker blue.

Where was his T-shirt Laswell thought? Before Price could question him, Kyle came running from behind one of the jeeps also missing his top and also soaked through!

“Haha where the hell is she?” Kyle was trying to catch his breath but his laughing made it difficult.

“Not a clue, but she’s messed me hair up!”

“Serves you right, you soaked her first! Hahaha” Kyle had set off laughing again.

Laswell spotted you first an instinctively pulled Price back a few steps as to not get caught in the crossfire.

You were ringing wet hair slicked back, white vest clingy to your chest, bad day not to wear a bra Laswell thought, but that was probably Soaps motive.

You launched the full bucket in the direction of the two topless men completely oblivious to your presence, in the commotion you grabbed two sponges hitting Kyle with one an Soap in the face with the other.

Before you could get away Soap grabbed you in a headlock pulling you to the now soaked ground a large puddle had formed, water splashed everywhere. You quickly gained the upper hand on soap an now had him in an armbar.

“This is what you get for being a perv! Tap out Mactavish”

“Not a chance lass, was worth it!! I’ll dry you off if you want!”

“Fat chance fairy liquid!”

As you two wrestled on the wet tarmac, Ghost grabbed the hose and started spraying you both like he was trying to break up a pair of fighting dogs, it didn’t stop either of you, if anything you got hold of each other even tighter, Kyle noticed Soap going slightly blue.

“RIGHT PACK IT IN!” Price’s voice boomed across the base causing you both to stop moving instantly.

“Let go of him Tank…” it was more a warning than a request. You did as you were told an released Soap from your grip, slapping him away when he tried to use you to push himself off the ground.

Kyle had gone silent looking at the ground, Soap looked to Ghost for help, who only sprayed him again in the face with the hose. You couldn’t meet Prices eyes so opted for the ground along with Kyle.

“What do you lot think this is a charity car wash?”

“We were just getting the truck clean an it’s so hot so we just…then Soap” Kyle started but was stopped by the ‘not now Kyle’ look from Laswell.

Price pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a loud sigh when he looked up he noticed your now see through top it caused the blood to rush down to his crotch, even though he was your Captain and you weren’t in the privacy of your little bubble where he could openly admire you he was still a man, your top clung to your wet skin, nipples hard from the slight chill from being soaked and the way you were biting your lip like you knew you were in trouble caused a fire in him, he almost wanted to bend you over his knee there and then showing your arse the palm of his hand. But that would be more paper work than it was worth, no matter how badly he wanted to.

Price pulled his eyes from you to look at Kyle and Soap who had apparently started this, Price didn’t know wether to scold him or thank him.

“Go dry off, you lot are going to meet Commander Graves and the Shadow company later and I need you all to behave, think that's possible?” Price glared at each of you. But his eyes remained on you and you could feel the embarrassment crawling over your skin.You felt like a child being told off at school, what made is worse was how he had be harsher on you now, since Soap and Ghost had caught you two in the showers the other night. He couldn’t be seen going soft on you.

Soap had been on the sly tormenting you about favouritism and how even if you threw a grenade into a civilian camp Price would give you a slap on the wrist but at the same time kiss you on the forehead. It was usually followed with Soap doing a terrible impression of him saying “it’s ok kiddo, I’ll make this all go away!” He knew it riled you up an you always gave him the reaction he wanted. Ghost told him to knock it off an that if he didn’t he would happily tell Price that he does a fantastic impression of him. You appreciated Ghost for that, but you had a feeling he thought something not too dissimilar, but he would never voice it he respected Price too much. Was it always going to be like this?

Laswell nodded you off, a silent get going before he has to repeat himself.

“You have 25 minutes an if you are not ready believe me I will come find you myself” Price watched as the 3 of you walked away.

“I'll go make sure the lads don't start again Cap” Ghost followed behind Soap and Kyle. You stalked off to your side of camp. Price watched you for a few seconds, he hated this, hated having to act this way but he was still you Captain and there was still a job to be done, but he made a mental note to make it up to you later. He also wasn't blind to the look Laswell was giving him.

********

The meeting with Graves and the Shadows had gone ok, Graves seemed nice enough. You and Rudy had exchanged a few side glances at each other, but other than that all seemed good. It was now the early evening the sun setting over the base as you all gathered outside under a canopy, getting acquainted. Kyle spent most of the evening talking football with one of the shadows who was an Aston Villa fan so you didn't have him to talk to, Soap and Ghost were listening to Graves talk about the last ‘Assignment’ he had been on. Rudy had Alejandro and every now and again you caught a glimpse of something between them a slight smile or wink, it gave you butterflies. You liked the idea that they had each other and if your theory was right and they did, you wondered how they made it work the Colonel and his second in command?

“Tank? Can I see you for a minute?” Price was stood just outside the canopy you were all gathered under. Most of the chatting had stopped and all eyes were on you now as you nodded making your way over to your Captain who had started walking ahead you followed. As you passed him Alejandro gave you a soft smile.

It felt like you had been walking for ages in silence, the sky now an inky blue, you were well out into the desert, still on the base but far enough that no one could see or hear you. Great you thought no one to hear you getting told off.

Price stopped in front of two large rocks, he motioned you to sit down on one and he took the other, he didn't face you instead faced forward. As you sat down you noticed he was tapping his leg, something you had only seen him do when he was anxious which was never.

“Im sorry” Price blurted out.

“What for?”

“Shouting at you like that, I shouldn’t have…there was no need I just…”

“It’s ok, to be a fair we were acting like kids, Soap started it though Kyle told him not to, but he did it anyway and..”

Price cocked his eyebrow at you? You sighed realising you sounded like a kid now telling tales.

“It's fine really, you have to be harsh on me or else it is favouritism” you kicked the dirt under your feet.

“I don't want to be harsh on you Tank, I hate it I really do, that's why I think we should just come clean about us” Price looked up into the dark blue sky now littered with little lights. You looked at him shocked come clean? Was he serious? You jumped up and started to pace.

“You must be mad! Are you joking? Please say you are joking! They will split us up, I'll get put back with Squad 8 and I’m not going back to that shit show! Dredd was the only good thing about it at least I could trust her! But no John I'm not doing that sorry, I'll take all the bollockings you can dish out, I'm not leaving the 141 , not again no…” You could feel the slight tinge of panic in you chest and Price could hear it in your voice. He stood up stopping you by the shoulders.

“Listen to me, I won't let that happen, never ever...I mean come clean to Laswell, Kyle so those closest to us know about us, so I don’t have to be so harsh, they will just have to accept the fact your my favourite” He gave you that eye-crinkling smile that slowed your heart rate slow down. He was right Kyle deserved to know.

“Yeh your right” you looped your arms around his waist burying your face into his chest, he smelt of warm sand, tobacco and kerosene. Price looked down at the top of your head looping his big arms around you in return.

“You know when I was younger, I wasn't afraid of anything, I didn't have the slightest fear of dying, no reason for it. I thought that if I died that was fine by me, I’ve come close a few times believe me Kid, but then I met you and I started to think that, I wanted to survive to live and for the first time, the idea of death scared me” Price looked up into the now pitch black sky.

“What I'm trying to say is this what we have found, I want to keep it safe, but I also don't want to smother it by keeping it hidden, we can do this, others have made it work. Listen I’ve been an idiot before and it cost me a year without you, don't think I could do that again so I want you right next to me where you belong and if that means a few select people know the score then so be it, they will find out anyway when they realise we have the same postcode and the kids come out with my eyes and your hair!” He was laughing now and it seemed to echo into the night.

You were lost for words, too stunned to speak. Kids? Same postcode? Who was this man? Price suddenly felt your silence and wonder had he said too much?

“Ermmm did I go to far with the whole kids and same postcode?”

You looked up at him a little smirk pulling at the corners of your mouth.

“A little, but your eyes? I wouldn’t mind that actually, but my nose…” you winked at him. Price sighed with relief letting out a little chuckle.

“Yeh your nose” he leant forward giving you a kiss. He glanced back towards the base.

“We had better head back before they send out a search party, bet they think your getting a right telling off!” Price draped his arm over your shoulder and started to walk back.

“More like a right good seeing to!” You elbowed him in the ribs giving him a comical wink. He pretended to hold this side laughing.

“That can be arranged? My room lets say about 2am?”

“Yes Sir!” You saluted him as you looped your arm around him.

“By the way what did you mean when you said ‘others have made it work’?”

“Ohh erm well don’t know if you’ve noticed but Alejandro and Rudy are pretty close who do you think told me to bring you out here tonight to talk?” Price looked out across the horizon.

“Ohhhhhh I had noticed it actually, well if a Colonel and a second in command can make it work then so can a Captain and a Sergeant”

As you both walked back to base linked into eachother Price felt like all his christmases had come at once, you just needed to get through this mission then you could really start making plans, he still needed to ask you out on that date.

[eddies-ashtray]

When The Rain Starts To Pour ⌂ Chapter 1: The One Where Eddie Hates Paul

 ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Pairing: Eddie x Fem!Reader

Chapter Preview: 

“You smoke?” You ask, pointing at the cigarette held delicately between his index and middle fingers. You’re feeling a little awkward for some reason. Maybe because you’re not used to Eddie being silent. 

Eddie sniffs, says, “Yeah. Trying to quit.” Then snuffs out the half-smoked stick by crushing it against the concrete. He knows the habit might bother you. It bothers the others as well; Nancy has called it a ‘cancer stick’, Steve has often taken to flushing his cigs in protest, and Robin simply informs him that it stinks. He also knows that you have your date with Paul tonight, and as much as he dislikes the guy, he doesn’t want you smelling of smoke for your date. 

“Hm,” You hum, coming up beside him and leaning over the wall, a blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders. You shiver and he has the urge to remove his leather jacket and wrap it around you. 

There’s a lull then, in which Eddie wonders why you might have come out here. From the sounds of your prior conversation with Robin, you need to start getting ready for your date soon. Why come out here just to stand around with him in the cold? 

CW: Brief discussion of financial struggles, vague talk of poor parental relationship (not necessarily abusive though), jealousy, loneliness, reader talks of being unhappy in her previous life circumstances, probably lots of bad jokes, poorly concealed Friends references, age gap (between reader and Paul), lots of tropes, non-canon compliant (duh—but also the upside-down does not exist), kinda pervy/douchey behaviour from Paul (nothing crazy though, just generally douchey).

 WC: 17.4k

 A/N: Ah! It’s finally here! I am so so so excited to share this first chapter with you after so long. I really hope it lives up to expectations. I just wanna note that while writing, I imagined the coffee shop and the apartments from Friends, so the decor and layout of each of those places are pretty much the exact same in my descriptions of them. Here’s a link to the apartments and coffee shop layouts if you’re interested. Also, I am going to do the best I can to make this era- and setting-appropriate, but keep in mind that I was not born in the 90s, nor am I from New York City (or the US in general), so there may be some inaccuracies. Anyway, enough of my rambling, happy reading!!

Series Masterlist

Read it on ao3

Next Chapter [coming soon]

 ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

“I’m so broke it’s not even funny! Like, seriously, look,” Robin exclaims before placing her mug of tea on the coffee table and proceeding to lean back awkwardly on the couch so she can turn her pockets out. They are indeed empty–a metaphorical sign of her poverty. 

Nancy clicks her tongue from her spot on a sage green chair next to the couch, reaching over to place a coaster under Robin’s steaming mug. 

It’s a relatively quiet Saturday afternoon at The Ugly Mug, only a couple other patrons milling about and occupying the various other seats around the small establishment. There’s a short woman with long, thin braids seated by the large front window and a stout man in a purple beanie sitting on one of the stools near the coffee bar. There’s also been the occasional patron coming in to pick up a to-go order–bringing in with them a rush of chilly November air–before rushing back out the dark wooden doors. 

“I’m fucking screwed. I can’t afford that big, stupid place alone,” Robin complains, retrieving her tea from the table after she’s tucked her pockets back into her jeans. 

“You could always get a second job,” Eddie offers from the opposite end of the couch, an oversized red mug half-full of very sugary coffee in hand. “Ya know, moonlight as a rockstar like some of the rest of us?” 

Robin rolls her eyes at his over-exaggeration and looks over at him as she replies, “Don’t you guys get, like, one gig per month?” 

“No…We get two gigs per month,” Eddie corrects like the disparity between her answer and his had been larger than it was. 

When he realizes that his correction wasn’t much of a correction, he adds, slightly more helpful this time, “But it’s better than just working in the restaurant. At least I get a little extra every month.” 

Robin sighs. “I guess…But it’d suck to double my exhaustion just to take another job I hate. At least your second job is something you love...I wish I could get, like, a raise or something,” She complains, head falling back against the couch in frustration. 

From beside her, Steve’s hand lands on her shoulder, placing his own mug of coffee on the table before doing so. “Why don’t you-”

“No,” She replies before he can finish. 

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!” Steve defends and Robin lolls her head to the side to shoot him a deadpan stare. 

“I am not putting an ad in the newspaper,” She states plainly. 

“It’s a strategy! How else would you find a roommate?” 

“I agree with Robin,” Nancy pipes up from Robin’s other side. “It’s not safe, Steve. There’s so many freaks out there; you don’t know who you’re inviting into your home.”

“I live with a freak and I’m fine,” Steve jokes. 

“Hey!” Eddie exclaims, mildly offended, and slaps Steve on the arm halfheartedly. “It’s been six years, Harrington, when are you gonna stop calling me that?”

“How about never!” Steve bites back childishly. All too quickly their civilized conversation about Robin’s living situation devolves into an immature argument between two grown men. It’s almost surprising how they manage to live together and not tear each other’s heads off. Despite their silly arguments though, they surprisingly get along quite well–most of the time. 

“Hey! Can we get back on topic, please?” Nancy interrupts, mildly anxious about the eyes of the other patrons on them. Normally, she wouldn’t let others’ judgment get to her; she’s aware that she hangs around a pretty rowdy group of adults, but it’s so quiet in here today and she’d like to keep it that way. 

“Actually, I’m perfectly content right in the middle of this. I could use a distraction,” Robin says, settling into the couch beside the two bickering men.

Sighing contentedly, Robin gets comfortable and shuts her eyes, the soft light of the café causing the back of her eyelids to glow a soft orange. The boys’ bickering continues to her right as Nancy reaches over from her left to squeeze her hand in reassurance. Robin opens her eyes again to turn to her and gives her a tight-lipped smile. 

“I need a roommate,” she concludes, tone solemn. Nancy’s lips part, about to impart some advice when-

The small golden bell above the door tinkles its charming chime as it opens, and in rushes the late November bite, and a frazzled-looking young woman. As she enters the space, she makes such a commotion that Robin startles and turns to take a look at who’s causing the ruckus. The others turn to the door as well (including Steve and Eddie whose bickering has now ceased altogether due to the interruption). 

In her tow is one large suitcase, in her hand is a large black trash bag (the plastic material stretching into a grey colour in some areas), and on her back is a large backpack (stuffed so full that the biggest pocket isn’t even zipped all the way). 

It must have begun to rain at some point during their hours’ long stay at the coffee shop because the woman appears to be quite damp without an umbrella or hood on her jacket. 

Finally, Robin's eyes land on the woman’s face. In a shock, she realizes that she recognizes her. However, seeing as none of her friends are acquainted with the woman, they’re rather occupied by the seemingly magical appearance of this person who looks to be in need of a place to stay at the exact moment that Robin expressed her need for a roommate. The four of them gawk at the woman with the luggage for a moment until someone can’t help himself and must break the silence to acknowledge the absurdity of the situation. 

“And I want to be rich and famous!” Eddie exclaims, gesturing widely to the door. Unfortunately, his wish does not manifest as Robin’s had. 

Robin passes her tea to Steve, who takes it without question as she stands from her spot on the couch, passing Nancy as she rounds it. The woman is at the counter now, though as Robin nears her, the woman is not ordering a coffee or any other warm beverage. 

“Excuse me? Do you know-” You begin, but before you can finish asking the café employee about your friend's whereabouts, you feel a soft tap on your shoulder. 

 “Y/N?” 

Immediately, you recognize her voice and turn around. Many summers and phone calls throughout your childhood and teen years had familiarized you with it. 

Once you’re face-to-face, relief releases the tension you’d been holding in your shoulders. After over 12 hours of driving across the country (maybe more, you stopped keeping track at some point), countless times getting lost (your sense of direction completely failing you, even with the aid of a map and any living soul you came across), many pit stops at dank, shady rest stops, and a lot of fast food later, you’re just happy to see a familiar face. 

“Robin! Thank God! I went to your apartment-” you begin, eager to recount the story of your travels. 

“My apartment?” Robin asks, confused that you’d known her address. 

“-but you weren’t there! And I almost left to look for you myself, but then your neighbour saw me knocking and told me I could probably find you here-”

“My neighbour?”

“-and I thought, ‘It’s worth a shot,’, so I dragged all my shit back down the stairs and through the stupid rain and you’re here! But, come to think of it, I don’t even know why I brought all this stuff up with me instead of just leaving it in the car. Like, that was sort of presumptuous of me to show up at your door with a bunch of luggage, but I guess it probably wouldn’t have been a great idea to leave it in that parking garage anyway,” You finish your rambling, out of breath now and slightly lightheaded. 

That was likely an inappropriate way to greet her after all this time, but you find that you’re exhausted from your travels and electrified with adrenaline from your impulsive decision to come to New York. 

At first, it was nice to get out and stretch your legs after spending half a day in your car, and walk around this new city in search of Robin’s apartment, but now you could just collapse right here on this scuffed hardwood floor. 

Robin’s brows furrow as she tries to process your word vomit, but still cannot find an answer for her biggest question. Though she’s concerned that one of her neighbour’s so easily gave away her location to a stranger who was banging on her door and curious to know how you’d found her apartment, she’s more interested in your story for now. In learning what got you here after all this time.

“Why are you here? I mean-it-it’s great to see you, but, um-why don’t you sit down and tell me what happened?” Robin suggests, leading you gently towards the couch. 

“Okay. Yeah, that sounds great,” You agree, navigating carefully around velvet-upholstered stools with your bags in hand. 

A man with long hair and tattoos stands from the couch to take a seat on a chair to his right in order to accommodate you as Robin helps you place your bags on the floor next to the woman with the curly hair and high cheekbones. 

Finally, you sit down on the plush orange couch next to a happy looking guy with gorgeous, voluminous hair. He smiles at you kindly once you’re settled in and you breathe out, willing yourself to relax so you can attempt to coherently explain your situation to your friend and, apparently, these strangers. 

Their eyes on you make you nervous, but once Robin takes her seat next to you, you feel more at ease. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” Robin reassures as she tucks her legs underneath herself on the couch. You nod, taking one more deep breath and collecting your thoughts before beginning. 

“So-I know this is, like, totally crazy that I just kinda showed up here out of the blue after, what? 5, 6 years?” You begin nervously, looking to Robin for confirmation on how long it’s been since you last saw each other. She nods after turning her body to face you. 

“But I just–I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like this but–I felt like I was on autopilot or something, just kind of drifting through my days: going to work at a boring job with boring people, coming home to my shitty apartment, going to sleep, and doing it all over again and again and again.”

In your periphery, you notice a few of them nodding in agreement and feel relieved at their earnest validation. It gives you the strength to continue your story. 

“And one day I guess I woke up? I realized that I hated where I was, who I was with, what I was doing, what I wasn’t doing. I just sort of…panicked. I knew I couldn’t stay there–in that life and that apartment cause it was, like, a total shithole-”

“Why was it a shithole?” A voice interrupts from your right; The One With The Tattoos. You’d been so into your story for those 30-some-odd seconds that you nearly forgot that it was more than just Robin you were venting to. He seems genuinely curious and well-meaning, so you’re not perturbed by his interruption, only surprised, which is what causes you to pause before answering his question. 

In the moment you take before you respond, you clock the bat tattoo on his forearm (though you’d recognized his inked skin earlier, you hadn’t examined the art close enough to discern what the tattoos were of), among a smattering of many other patchwork tattoos, and hope you remember to ask him about it later (if there is a later with these people–there’s all the chance that Robin could send you packing). 

Finally, you shake off your surprise and respond, “Well, aside from the fact that my apartment was definitely mold-infested and my building had a serious rat problem, my landlord was a total creep.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” He agrees, brows furrowing.

“Yeah. So, I just couldn’t live there anymore, or go back to work, and I definitely was not about to go back home to live with my mother–phone calls once a week are already more than I can handle, I don’t think I could take her constant scrutiny for more than 30 minute increments,” You explain, scoffing lightly. “But, um-” You stutter, looking down at your lap and pulling at the skin of your hand absentmindedly. 

“Anyway…I panicked and I decided that I needed to get out of there as soon as possible, so two weeks ago, I put in my two weeks at work and pretty much packed up my whole life into my car and started driving without a destination…And then I remembered hearing that you’d moved to New York a few years back,” You recall, gesturing to Robin, who smiles warmly back at you.

“So I looked you up in the phone book and when I found your name I just felt like it was the right thing? Which I know sounds kinda kooky, but it was the first good feeling I’d had about something in a long time, so I just decided that I needed to trust it,” You conclude, squeezing your hands in your lap. “And I know it’s a lot to ask of you, especially since it’s been so long, but…is there any chance at all that you might need a roommate?” 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

When you step inside the apartment, you immediately love the place. For one, it’s bigger than your old apartment and even has a pretty sizable balcony (that can only be accessed through a window). To your left is the kitchen with exposed brick, a simple small table with four mismatched chairs surrounding it in the middle. 

Just past the modest kitchen is the living area, which is just as eclectically decorated as the kitchen with a sofa, a fluffy looking armchair and an armless chair adjacent to each other, a coffee table, and a television set sitting atop a sideboard. Two doors are on either side of the living room. To the left of the living room is a large window (complete with a cozy looking window seat) which looks out onto the balcony. 

You marvel at the place as Robin leads through the apartment, the rest of the crew following in behind you two before the door slams shut and you enter what appears to be a bedroom slash storage space. Despite the bed in the middle, there are things strewn about on the floor, seemingly haphazardly tossed in here and forgotten about. 

After introductions to the group (you now know their names and the fact that Eddie and Steve live across the hall, while Nancy lives a few blocks away), Robin had informed you the available room at her place might be a bit of a mess since she’s been using it as storage space for a while. The only guests she has live close by enough that sleepovers were a rarity. 

“So, this’ll be your room,” Robin explains, rolling your bursting suitcase inside it. Steve enters last, dropping your trash bag full of clothes to the yellow-ish hardwood floor and you do the same with your backpack. 

It’s a fairly nice room; a simple square spacious enough to fit the queen size bed and a side table, while also allowing extra room still for a chest of drawers and vanity (which you will eventually add to the room). 

Though anything without rats, mold, and a creepy landlord would be an improvement, this place is a definite upgrade from your last and you find yourself containing a joyous squeal as you take it all in. You’ve never been a fan of change–enjoying the comfort of familiarity instead–and have always agonized over every decision you’ve made, but for once, you have no doubts about your decision to come here. This actually feels like the first real decision you have ever made. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

When Steve opens the building's front door, the smell of fresh rain and pavement hangs in the air, an oddly nostalgic scent. It reminds you of childhood, of early mornings at summer camp with Robin. 

The sun hangs low and bright orange in the sky–it’s getting late so you’ll probably only be able to make one trip to your car and back before the sun goes down, and then have to collect the rest of your things tomorrow. 

Though you grabbed as much as you could carry from your car (which remains parked in a garage about three blocks away) before going in search of Robin’s apartment, you obviously couldn’t take everything with you, so the bags you just dropped off at your new place were only a fraction of the things packed away in your vehicle. 

Robin’s friends kindly offered to help you drag the rest of your belongings back to her apartment. Since none of them have a car, and it is apparently nearly impossible to find parking in this city, you have no choice but to carry everything back by hand. 

You lead the way to the parking garage, Robin at your side and the rest of the gang following behind you. 

As you walk through the city, past storefronts, HELP WANTED signs in windows, and people with briefcases in long coats and giant scarves walking briskly like they have someplace important to be, you’re reminded of an imperative piece of information.

“Robin?” You say as you cross the street. 

“Hm?”

“I don’t have a job here.” 

The whole reason Robin was looking for a new roommate in the first place was because she can no longer afford her place on her own. And you, as her new roommate, have been recruited to help solve that problem for her. But without a job, and a bank account that is less than impressive, you’re on the clock to find a new job–and fast. 

“You can work at Hannigan’s with Eddie and I!” She offers excitedly, her hand smacking your arm in her enthusiasm. Sorry! She apologizes quickly before continuing: “We’ve been working there forever, I can put in a good word for you with the owner.” 

“That sounds great…But what’s ‘Hannigan’s’?” You ask, because in her haste to offer a solution to your little problem, she had left out vital information. Eddie pipes up from the rear and steps forward so he can walk in step with you and Robin as he answers your question. 

The way the sun hits him from behind outlines his body in a soft orange halo, causing his long hair to shine in the early evening light. This lighting softens his features, making him look angelic and pretty as his pale skin glows. You find yourself content watching him as he speaks.  

“It’s one of those fancy upscale restaurants. The tips are usually pretty good, but sometimes you gotta endure some light harassment to get them,” Eddie explains, and when he sees the apprehensive look on your face, he jumps to reassure you: “Sometimes we get to take home leftovers though.”

“By ‘get to take’, he means steal,” Steve corrects and you look to Robin for confirmation.

She just shrugs. “They’d go to waste anyway.” 

“I guess I’ll just have to invest in some armour, then,” You say, implying that physical armour could somehow protect you from rude customers. Eddie smiles at that, a dimple carving into his cheek. Briefly, you note how charming his smile is, but before you can stare too long, Robin grabs your attention by lightly elbowing you. 

“Don’t worry, snooty rich people can’t be as bad as Harrington's snotty children,” She says. 

“Oh! You have kids?” You wonder, turning to Steve as he strides along casually a few steps behind you, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets. 

“No, not yet. I work at one of the preschools in the area,” Steve supplies. 

“Oh, nice. You like working with kids?” You wonder. 

His answer is apparent on his face which lights up instantly at the question. “Love it. The kids are really great, and so much more capable than people give them credit for! People are quick to dismiss kids, especially four and five year olds, but they understand more than you think.” Steve rambles, his passion clear. 

“Hey, is this the garage?” Robin asks, bringing your attention back to the task at hand. 

It is. The place you left your car a mere two hours ago, nervous and unsure of what came next. But now you have a new place, something akin to a job offer, and three kind strangers and one old friend by your side. 

Once you reach your car–which is parked all the way on the top floor–you unlock the back seat doors. 

“Okay, so, let’s try to grab all the stuff from the front and maybe a few things from the back?” You suggest, then move to unlock the trunk of your car where the boys stand. 

“Jesus. How did you pack all this shit in here?” Eddie asks, marvelling at the trunk of your car which is stuffed full of most of your belongings. 

“Are we about to find your kitchen sink packed away in here, or what?” Steve adds. 

“Uh, I don’t know, really,” You say, answering Eddie’s question. “I packed it all up so quickly I didn’t really notice how much stuff it actually was, but it’s like my entire apartment is stuffed into this trunk.” You say, and it kind of is. You’re surprised your trunk could even shut with how crowded it is. 

Robin and Nancy grab the remaining bags from the back seat, while you and the guys grab a couple boxes from the trunk. Then you lock up and start back to your new apartment. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Your first thought when you gain consciousness in your bed is a thought that no one would ever want to have—especially not before eight in the morning. Someone has broken into my apartment. 

Your eyes shoot open, staring up at the ceiling–your new ceiling! In your new apartment! That you’ve lived in now for a solid 48 hours. But your time here may be cut short if the intruder has plans that involve you and a knife.

You know for a fact that it is not Robin because you share a wall with her and can hear her shuffling around her room getting ready for the day, and the person out in your living room right now definitely opened your front door and is now shuffling around out there.

Thud. 

What the fuck was that?

Most people in your situation might freeze in fear and simply lie in wait for the intruder to come to them, accepting their fate. Others might run and hide. But you, on this random Tuesday in November at 7:43AM were apparently a force to be reckoned with. The Old You might have chosen one of the two above options, but New York You–the new, and hopefully improved, you–has a job interview today and are not going to let some intruder stop you from making it. 

You are not about to have your fresh start end so soon. So, you carefully pull the covers off of your body and as quietly as possible get out of bed.

Inching slowly towards the door, you decide you first need a weapon to defend yourself. There’s no use going out there and meeting the intruder if you can’t protect yourself against them. However, since you’re not in the kitchen, you don’t have access to a knife or any other kitchen utensil that could be wielded as a weapon. And since many of your belongings are still packed away in bags and boxes scattered around the room, you don’t exactly have many options. 

Quickly, you grab the first object you see that could potentially be used to incapacitate the intruder. Then, you very slowly reach for the handle of your door. 

Twisting the handle as gently as you can manage so as not to draw attention to yourself, you begin to open the door, revealing an inch of the kitchen, then another couple inches which reveals a sliver of the living room. Heart racing wildly in your chest, you decide it’s now or never. 

Bursting from your room while brandishing your weapon of choice, you let out what some may describe as a battle cry, startling the intruder in the living room. Startling them so much that they bang their head on the coffee table when they try to get up from where they’re laying on their stomach on the floor between the couch and table. 

You don’t have a great view of the intruder from where you stand right outside your door, so you slowly step toward them where they lie. 

The intruder groans in pain, forehead falling to rest on the rug below them as they bring a hand to the back of their head. A head with long, messy curls that you vaguely recognize. 

Oh. Oh, God. 

“Eddie?” You question meekly, lowering your weapon as waves of guilt crash over you. 

“Uh-huh,” He replies weakly, voice muffled by the rug he’s practically eating. 

“Oh, God,” You moan before placing your weapon on the table and rushing to his side. He lifts his head then, and you help him up onto the couch. He groans again as he sits back into the plush cushions and all you can do is apologize. 

Taking a seat on the coffee table, you grimace at his grimace. “I am so sorry, I thought you were an intruder,” You explain, squeezing your fingers in your hand. Your heart still races in your chest. 

“It’s-It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Kinda did it to myself,” Eddie jokes, still rubbing the back of his head. You nod once, biting your lip, still feeling guilty because, yeah, he technically did do it himself, but he wouldn’t have if you hadn’t stormed out of your room like a crazy person and screamed bloody murder.

As your heart slows to its normal pace, you begin to wonder what he was doing here in the first place—laying on the living room rug for that matter.

“Um, I don’t mean to be rude, but what exactly were you doing on the floor?” You ask, finally taking in his dress now that the situation has deescalated some. He wears red and black plaid pyjama bottoms and a white tank top so see-through that you catch a glimpse of dark ink beneath the material. The sight steals your breath for a moment. 

“I was, uh, looking for my rings. Thought they might have fallen under the table,” Eddie supplies, drawing your eyes back up to his face. His eyes are warm and soft. God, you don’t think you’ve ever seen eyes so large and round. He looks like a baby deer or something. A cute, injured baby deer. 

“Oh. Did Robin let you in?” You ask, because it doesn’t matter that he looks like a baby deer, what matters is that it is very possible that he simply let himself into your apartment and you’re not sure you’re comfortable with that just yet. I mean, you’ve only just met him and the others two days ago, and have only seen them one other time since then when they had come by to help clear out your new room. 

Eddie looks like the guilty one now as he replies, “Uh, no…?”

“Sorry,” He apologizes quickly. “Let me just…try this again.” 

You’re not sure exactly what he means until he stands and begins walking backwards in the direction of the front door, all the while making strange noises with his mouth that somewhat resemble the sound of rewinding a tape. He’s literally starting over, resetting, going back in time to try this again because he saw you weren’t comfortable with his uninvited presence in your apartment.

All you can do is sit and simply stare at the strange, yet comical display as Eddie awkwardly reaches behind him, opens the door, reverses out into the hallway, and shuts the door with a slam. 

Too stunned to laugh for a moment, you sit in silence for approximately five seconds, thinking that might be the end of it, before a knock sounds at the front door. 

You hesitate, staring at the door strangely. But you’re intrigued now by his strange display, wanting to know how it ends. So you stand and stroll over to the door, opening it to, of course, reveal Eddie, who smiles brightly at you. 

“Good morning,” He greets politely. “You mind if I come in?” 

Stifling a giggle, you nod. “Of course.” And open the door wider, stepping to the side to allow him space to enter. He enters swiftly and you shut the door.

Eddie saunters over to the living room once again, about to resume the search for his rings when he spots your weapon of choice sitting innocently on the coffee table where you left it. He pauses and stares at it for a moment, tilting his head, and you stare at his back as you remain in the kitchen, watching as his dark curls shift and fall to one side, cascading over his shoulders. 

The presence of the weapon is new to him since it obviously was not there when he entered the apartment the first time. He also hadn’t seen it even when he’d gotten up from the floor because you’d sat on the coffee table, and therefore blocked his view of the object. 

Now, Eddie wanders over to the coffee table, gingerly picking the weapon up like it’s some sort of precious antique, then spins around smoothly to face you. Holding it loosely at one end, he lets it dangle just above the hardwood floor.

Eddie raises his eyebrows at you. You stare back at him, unsure of what’s happening. 

“What?” You wonder. 

“What were you gonna use this for?” Eddie asks, tone humorous, and dark eyes sparkling with mirth. 

“To-to defend myself against the intruder,” You answer, suddenly feeling strangely self-conscious about your choice of weapon. 

“With a bathrobe tie?” Eddie exclaims, shaking the flimsy terry cloth material around so the long fabric wiggles in the air.  

“Y-yes!” You defend weakly.

“What were you gonna do? Spa-day me to death?” 

“No! I-I thought it could be used to, like—choke someone?” You say, cringing as the words come out of your mouth. 

Eddie barks a laugh. But you can tell he's not laughing at you. He simply finds the situation and your choice amusing. In the little time you’ve spent around Eddie, you don’t get the impression that he’s mean-spirited or judgmental. The exact opposite actually–to you, he’s only been accepting and kind. 

“It’s creative, I’ll give you that. But not very practical,” Eddie critiques.

“My robe was hanging on my door, okay? It’s not like I had a knife in there or something,” You attempt to defend, playing along. 

“Still!” He laughs incredulously. 

“Let me get this straight: first, you break into my apartment, and then I very kindly invite you back in, and you insult my choice of weapon?” 

Eddie seems to mull this over, recalling the events in his mind to confirm that, yes, that is indeed what has happened.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so…Ya know, you should really talk to Harrington. He’s the king of wielding random objects as weapons. When we first moved here, he thought we were getting broken into all the time, and this one time he grabbed our floor lamp and-” 

Before he can finish his story though, Robin comes out from her bedroom, dressed in some jeans and a striped long-sleeve. She makes it a few steps before she notices Eddie and you standing almost ten feet apart in the living room together, both of you still dressed in your pyjamas, and one of you grasping a purple bathrobe tie. Robin stares for a moment like she’s suspicious of something, shifting her eyes from you to Eddie and back again. They land on Eddie when she slowly asks, “What’s going on?” 

“I was looking for my rings. You seen ‘em?” He explains, effectively diverting her attention from the strangeness of the situation. 

“Yeah,” She nods, walking towards the kitchen again. “In the dish by the door.” 

“Cool. Thanks,” Eddie says, walking towards you now. Before he walks past you to retrieve his rings though, he takes hold of the other end of the bathrobe tie, pulling it taught, and presenting it to you with a slight bow. “Your sword, m’lady.” 

Grabbing the tie from him, you thank him, and he continues toward the dish by the door. Eddie’s theatrical and kind of strange, but instead of weirding you out, you find that those traits endear you to him. You’re sick of boring people and to finally be around someone who is so unapologetically themselves is refreshing. Especially someone as interesting as Eddie. 

Turning around to the kitchen where Eddie is carefully rooting through the dish for his rings and Robin is grabbing a juice from the fridge, you realize something strange about what just happened. Though surprisingly, none of it has to do with Eddie. 

“Um-if you were in your room getting ready, how did you not hear my scream?” You ask, because you doubt that she just didn’t hear it. You were pretty loud. 

After taking a sip from the small plastic bottle, Robin explains, “Huh. I guess I’ve learned to sort of tune out the noise. Living across the hall from two idiots who barge into my apartment without warning has kind of become my new normal. Loud, sudden noises aren’t really surprising anymore.”

“It’s worrying how desensitized you are,” You reply, mostly joking. 

Robin takes another sip of her juice and shrugs. “Don’t worry, you’ll get there someday.” 

“Ya know, I really hope I don’t.” 

Robins snorts, approaching the counter where Eddie is still picking his rings from the mess of keys and other small trinkets in the dish, and crouches down to retrieve her tote bag from the shelf below the counter. You ball up and toss your robe tie in the general direction of your room before Robin pops back up and turns to grab her juice from the table behind her. 

“Okay, so I gotta go run some errands, but I should be back just after your interview,” She informs and you nod. Eddie goes to leave as well, opening the front door as Robin tells you, “Good luck, you’ll be great!” Then heads for the door as well. 

Gratitude swells in your chest. Robin has been more than kind to you these past two days. Before Saturday, it had been years since you last spoke.

You and Robin were best friends at the summer camp you attended as children and remained close as you entered your teen years and later became camp counsellors at the same camp. You were the first person she ever came out to and it often felt like you shared a brain; for many years she was your sister. 

Despite your living hours and hours away, you and Robin maintained your friendship during the non-summer months; talking on the phone often and mailing letters back and forth. 

Eventually, though, your individual lives got busy and neither of you had the time to maintain the long-distance friendship or attend summer camp as counsellors anymore. Phone calls decreased and letters stopped being written and mailed, until eventually, your friendship fizzled out. There was no major falling out of any sort; the end of your friendship was simply the result of poor management on both ends. 

You often thought about calling her up to see how she was, but it wasn’t until last week that you made the impulsive decision to contact her again. And you’re glad you did. She’s given you a new home and she even helped you set up your job interview at Hannigan’s. You’re grateful that she’s given you the opportunity to start fresh in this new city with new, interesting people, but much of your gratitude comes from the chance you now both have to breathe life back into your cherished friendship.

“Hey,” You call, causing Robin to pause and turn to you before she exits the apartment, brows expectantly raised. “I know I’ve already said it so many times, but I just want to say thank you one more time for everything you’ve done for me these past two days. And I know it’s been a long time since we’ve been friends…but you’re a really good friend.” 

Robin smiles softly at you. “You’re a really good friend too. You always have been.” 

It’s then you rush to her at the door where you embrace her in the biggest hug and hope the action translates the magnitude of your thankfulness and love for her. 

“I’ll see you later,” She says after you part, walking out into the hallway. 

You sigh.

It has been one hectic morning, and your interview starts at 10:30, so you should probably start getting ready now. But Eddie lingers in the hallway, just outside his front door. 

Before you can even say anything, he preemptively apologizes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to, like, eavesdrop, but you have your interview at Hannigan’s today?” 

You’re not mad though. Nothing you said was a secret. And so far, you trust Eddie. He cares about the way people around him are feeling and takes action to remedy situations where people aren’t happy or comfortable. That much is clear from this morning. It’s why you don’t dismiss him and leave to get ready. He’s a good person. 

“Yeah, I do. Why?”

Eddie takes a couple steps forward so he’s standing just inside your apartment once again. 

“Would it help if I gave you some tips? I’ve been working there for a while and I kinda know what they’re looking for, so-”

“That would be great!” You exclaim, because you really need this job if you want to continue living here. 

Eddie just smiles brightly at your reaction as you say, “Just let me get dressed and then I’ll knock on your door when I’m ready?” 

“Sure,” Eddie nods, grabbing the edge of the door on his way out to close it. 

“Oh! And Eddie?” You call out just before the door shuts. 

“Yeah?” He responds, popping his head back in the apartment. 

“I really am so sorry about this morning.” 

“It’s alright. I’m sorry for breaking in…Although you seemed pretty unprepared, so, yaknow, this was probably a good learning experience for you,” He teases, that same sparkle in his eyes that had appeared when he was questioning your weapon returning. 

You bite your lip over a smile as Eddie winks at you and disappears behind the door, the heavy wood slamming softly shut. 

Getting ready in record time, you end up knocking on Eddie’s door across the hall approximately one hour later, leaving more than enough time for Eddie to give you interview tips and for you to walk over to Hannigan’s to arrive early. 

As you stand in the hall awaiting his answer, you feel oddly giddy, a swarm of nervous butterflies fluttering rapidly in your belly. Briefly, you think your butterflies can be explained on account of Eddie making you nervous. But you bat that thought away as you hear footsteps approaching and remind yourself that it’s more likely that your upcoming job interview has caused the butterflies. 

When Eddie answers his door, you find he’s also gotten dressed in the hour since you’ve seen each other. He wears a simple black t-shirt with a band name and logo you don’t recognize on the front with a long-sleeve underneath, and some light-wash jeans. His hair is noticeably more tame, his curls flowing neatly over his shoulders. Eddie also wears the silver rings he was searching for this morning; three on one hand, and one on the other. The fluttering in your belly intensifies for a moment, but again, you bat them away. 

“You wanna come in or are we gonna do this out in the hall?” Eddie jokes when you make no move to enter his apartment, unaware of this strange battle you’re having within yourself at his doorstep. 

Shaking yourself free of your thoughts, you mutter a quick apology and take his joke as an invitation to enter. As you do, you realize this is the first time you’ve been inside his apartment. Which isn’t a surprising fact. You’ve only been here for two full days, and haven’t really left your apartment much since then.

His apartment is smaller and you might describe it as drab, but their decor choices are vibrant in their own way. 

The kitchen is immediately to your right as you enter, a table to your left, and as you wander further into the room, a counter separates the entrance slash kitchen area from the living room. In the living room sits two black recliners and a large wood entertainment centre with a television set. On either side of this are two closed doors. 

The far right side of the apartment has two windows and a red sofa sitting beneath it. Beside that is another door, this one open (revealing tiled floor and a closed shower curtain). 

There isn’t much in the way of wall decoration (aside from a lone dart board hanging on the wall and a few posters), but on some of the shelves of the entertainment centre are framed photographs. Some of the photos feature what appears to be two younger versions of Steve and Eddie, presumably taken in high school. In one photo, Eddie has his arm around Steve’s shoulder and they both hold beer cans in their hands. Eddie smiles cheekily for the camera, while Steve puts on a faux grimace at his friends close proximity. 

Other photos feature boys who appear to be much younger than Steve and Eddie (possibly siblings?) and there are also photos that include Robin and Nancy, some recent and others clearly taken years ago. Another includes Steve and Eddie carrying a boy with curly hair–who wears a graduation cap and gown–on their shoulders, all of them smiling widely. You can tell it's candid as they all appear to be laughing and unaware of the camera photographing them. 

“Who’s this?” You ask curiously, pointing at the photo as you turn around, finding that Eddie hasn’t moved from his spot at the door and has likely been watching you inspect his living area this whole time. Suddenly you feel like you’re intruding. “Sorry, I-”

“No worries. You can look. That’s what they’re there for,” He shrugs, finally joining you in the living room. 

At your side now, Eddie inspects the photo you pointed to and a fond smile crosses his face. His side profile is soft, and you spy just a hint of shaven stubble on his cheeks. It distracts you for a moment. 

“Dustin,” Eddie says after a beat. 

“What?” You ask dumbly, now preoccupied with the freckles you’ve spotted that dot his pale skin lightly. 

You’ve never been this close to him before. All you’d have to do to get right into his personal space is take one short step forward. But of course you won’t do that. Why would you? 

Eddie looks from the photograph to you. “In the picture,” He explains, nodding to the framed image. “That’s Dustin. It was taken at his high school graduation, like, two years ago? He’s a good kid…Well, he’s not really a kid anymore, but I guess it still feels like that sometimes.” 

“How do you know him?” You hear yourself say. The kid looks like he’s about five years younger than Eddie and Steve, so naturally you’re curious about how they know him. 

You’re supposed to be here getting pointers for your job interview, but instead, you find that you’re more interested in the details of Eddie’s life. 

“Uh, we were in high school together and I had this club that he was a part of,” Eddie explains, hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“What kind of club?” You wonder, electing to ignore the fact that he somehow attended high school with this kid. 

He seems reluctant to provide you with an answer to your question. Up until now, he’s been a pretty open book; someone who doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him. But now all of the sudden, he’s guarded? 

“I won’t judge, yaknow,” You reassure, because you won’t, but also because his reluctance to reveal what sort of club he ran makes you all the more curious to find out. 

Eddie side eyes you, squinting. He must determine that your remark is genuine because he straightens up from where he’d bent slightly to view the photo and provides you with an answer. 

“Ever heard of DnD? Dungeons and Dragons?” 

You furrow your brows for a moment, vaguely recognizing the name, but not remembering why. 

“Oh!” You exclaim after a beat. “Yes! Was that the one that people were freaking out about years ago cause they thought it caused Satanism?”

Eddie snaps his fingers as he responds, “That’s the one.” 

Then, he glances back at the photograph, and you think you can almost make out memories behind his eyes. Fond ones. You lean forward slightly, trying to catch his eyes again.

“You still play?” 

Your question shakes him out of his momentary reverie, and he looks to you once again. “Not as much as I used to…But Dustin and the other guys and I try to organize a couple meetings throughout the year. It’s hard though because everyone’s kinda spread out now. And busy.”

His tone is wistful as he continues to glance around at the photos sitting on the shelf. Had you just upset him? First, you assist him in banging his head against your coffee table and now you’re potentially causing him some emotional pain too! Good going. 

You’re about to apologize or change the subject, but Eddie speaks before you can. “Anyway! We should probably talk about your interview now. How long do we have?”

Looking around the room to find a clock, you spot one by the door. The little hand points toward the nine and the large hand points toward the six. 

“About a half hour before I should get going,” You respond, turning back to Eddie as he takes a seat on one of the recliners behind you. You sit down as well. 

“Great. So…do you have any questions first?” Eddie asks, unsure where to start. 

“Uh,” You say, trying to remember any questions you had, but you can’t seem to recall any as you roll up the sleeves of your thick sweater, the ink on your wrist and forearms revealed as the fabric is pulled back. 

Immediately, Eddie’s eyes shoot down to the action and for the first time, he catches sight of the ink.

“I didn’t know you had tattoos,” He remarks, like it’s something he should have known. As if it’s been more than 48 hours since you met and it’s ridiculous that he didn’t know. 

“Oh. Yeah,” You say absentmindedly, glancing down at your arms. 

“Tip number one: your tattoos are sick, but at Hannigan’s, they aren’t exactly appreciated, so you should make sure you cover them up.”

“Gotcha,” You say, rolling your sleeves back down the length of your arms.

Suddenly you’re reminded of your first day when you spotted his inked arms. The seven bats decorating his forearm. “Um…Yours are really cool by the way,” You compliment. 

Then, “When did you get your first one?” You ask, veering further off topic. You can’t seem to stop yourself and you don’t know why. 

“Uh…heh,” Eddie huffs a short laugh, almost as if he’d forgotten until this very second when you’d asked him. “I think I was, like, 16, 17? I did a really shitty stick-and-poke on my leg–the initials of my band name: Corroded Coffin.”

Every new thing you learn about Eddie intrigues you. Of course this long-haired, tattoo-having, ring-wearing, Dungeons and Dragons-playing 20-something would also have been in a band. Your surprise is likely evident on your face.

“You’ll have to come to one of our gigs sometime,” Eddie invites casually, as if it’s not the most cool thing to say in the world. Eddie didn’t used to be in a band, Eddie is in a band! 

“You’re still in the band?” 

“Yeah, the other guys live out here too, and we do regular gigs a few times a week…but, um, what about you? When did you get your first tattoo?” 

Still gaping at him, you must pick your jaw up off the ground before you can respond. Cool and humble. How is he real?

“Oh, um, I was 18…I actually got it cause I knew my mom would hate it and it would probably piss her off,” You say, a little embarrassed by that fact. You don’t know why you reveal the information to him in the first place. Maybe because for some odd reason you know he won’t tell anyone. Even still—his story was way cooler. Especially since it preceded the reveal that he’s in a band. But maybe that’s also part of the reason you share it. You want him to think you’re just as interesting as he is—though you’re not sure who would be impressed by the information you just shared. 

“Did it work?” Eddie asks. To your surprise, he seems invested in your answer, leaning over the edge of the recliner's armrest. As if what you’ve said was equally as interesting as his response. 

“Did what work?” 

“Was she pissed?” 

“Oh!” You say, like a total ditz. “Um, yeah. Big time. She hates tattoos.” 

“Is that why you have all of them?”

“No, I only got the first one to make her mad. And then when I realized I really loved it, I just kept getting them,” You respond, pushing your sleeve back slightly to brush the one on your wrist with your thumb. 

When you look back up at him he’s smiling softly at you, but he quickly averts his gaze and his eyes find the clock on the wall. “Shit,” He says, a little panicked. “We only have 20 minutes.”

Whipping your head around to glance at the clock, the hands confirm that it’s 20 to 10 and you’ve barely discussed what you came here to discuss. 

“I guess we’ll just have to lightning round this shit,” Eddie says, determination set in his tone. 

And you do lightning round this shit. In just over 20 minutes, Eddie tells you as much as he can about the owner of the restaurant—Cordelia—who is going to be interviewing you. He tells you how to sit, what to say, how to say it, anything and everything he can think of to help you secure a job at this place. 

As you two stand and Eddie walks you to the door, he shoots you a few final pointers.

 “Obviously it helps that you have experience working at an upscale restaurant, so, um, she’ll probably ask you about that too,” Eddie says, and you nod.

When you reach the door, you turn to him. 

“Thank you so much for your help,” You say sincerely. “You really didn’t have to do this, so it means a lot that you did.” 

“Of course I did,” Eddie replies, like it's just that simple. Your brows furrow. “You’re a member of this party now, and as a fellow party member, it’s my duty to help other party members out when they’re in need.”

“A ‘party member’?” 

You’re sure you catch the faintest blush across his cheeks from your question.

“Sorry, uh, I guess it just means you’re one of us now…A friend,” Eddie explains. 

“A friend,” You repeat. And you find the word involuntarily pulls your lips into a soft smile. 

“Anyway, you should probably get going,” Eddie reminds with another glance at the clock. 

“Yeah, okay,” You agree, turning to open the door.  “Oh, um, where did you say the restaurant was again?” You ask when you’re out in the hallway. 

“It’s um…You know what? Why don’t I just walk you there?” Eddie offers. 

“Really? You don’t mind?” 

“Not at all,” Eddie says with a charming smile. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Cordelia was an intense woman. Eddie had warned you of this, though you had wildly underestimated the level of intensity the woman embodied. She was tall, and wore her long, black hair up in a sleek ponytail, not a flyaway in sight. Her office was large and so neat that you thought it looked like some sort of staged set for a decor magazine. 

During your interview, you learned exactly one thing about Cordelia: Cordelia does not fuck around. She did not have time for exchanging pleasantries, and a simple handshake and a “take a seat” was the only introduction she provided you with before she began the interview, which mostly felt more like a police interrogation than a job interview. 

By the end, you thought you felt good about how it went, but Cordelia was hard to read. You never once saw her smile or provide you with any kind of verbal or non-verbal communication that would indicate that she was impressed with your resume or any of your answers to her questions.

It was likely one of the most strange job interviews you had ever had. It didn’t necessarily leave you full of hope as you got up from the leather upholstered chair and Cordelia informed you that you would receive a call if she decided to hire you. 

Walking through the restaurant–which was void of patrons, but had some staff preparing and setting up for opening in a few hours–, you finally come to the large glass entrance doors, and push one open. The late November chill blasts you in the face immediately and the switch from the warmth of the restaurant to this shiver-worthy weather is jarring. Had it somehow dropped five degrees from when you’d walked here? 

Turning right and beginning your trek back home, you hear a voice call out your name from behind you. 

You ignore it at first, thinking that the person can’t be calling out to you since you know a grand total of four people so far (five if you count Cordelia—but you don’t) and surely there are other people in this massively diverse city that also have your name. 

“Hey!” The voice calls again once you’ve made it no more than fifteen feet from the restaurant. 

Finally, you stop walking and spin around to locate the source, and what you find surprises you.

Eddie is currently jogging toward you. 

He’d waited this whole time? Out in the freezing cold? With that effortlessly cool leather jacket that is an extremely pathetic excuse for a winter coat and is definitely doing nothing to keep the warmth in?

“Hey,” He says again once he reaches you. 

“Hey,” You say. “You didn’t have to wait for me, Eddie.” Because he really didn’t and you don’t want to be a burden or make him think you’re taking advantage of his kindness. 

“Seeing as you’re going in the wrong direction, it’s probably a good thing I did,” Eddie tells you, nodding back in the other direction with a gentle, c’mon. You feel your face warm even as the wind whips you. 

“Thanks,” You say sheepishly, walking in step with Eddie—in the correct direction now.

“So, how’d it go? Did you crush it?” He asks hopefully, head turned to look at you, and his shoulders pushed up by his red-tipped ears as though he’s trying to conserve heat. 

The furrow in your brow and your soft stuttering must be enough for Eddie to understand exactly how it went, as he speaks before you can provide him with your best approximation of how the interview might have gone. 

“Yeah, that’s normal with Cordelia. That woman is impossible to read,” He says, shaking his head as you both stop at a crosswalk. 

“Right? Oh my God. I’m glad it wasn’t just me,” You say, relieved because that means that the interview wasn’t a total disaster. Is that what that means?

“Yeah, we call her Medusa,” Eddie remarks with a sidelong glance at you. 

You snort unattractively at the nickname and just as quickly bring your hand to your face, covering your mouth as if the action could force the sound back in. 

“Fitting,” You say, coughing as a cover for the noise when Eddie looks at you, brows raised, supposedly amused by your amusement. 

Eddie smirks to himself, barely noticeable, before asking, “Did she say she’d call?” As you look both ways before crossing the street with many other bundled-up New Yorkers. 

“Uh, yeah, why?” 

“That’s a good sign,” He answers, his shoulders shaking with a sudden shiver. That simple statement allows just a little drop of hope to blossom in your chest. 

“Are you cold?” You ask because he can’t not be freezing. He’s not exactly convincing you otherwise. 

“Yeah. I can’t feel my fingers,” Eddie states plainly.

“Wanna jog the rest of the way?” You offer, mostly joking. 

“Please,” He replies anyway.

Though you don’t exactly jog the last few blocks home, you do pick up the pace, and when you get back you make him some tea to warm him up (and hopefully bring back feeling in his fingers). 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Since your interview every time the phone rings you basically leap over any obstacles in your way to get to the phone, hoping it will be Cordelia calling about your waitressing position as Hannigan’s. But each time the phone rings and it’s a telemarketer, or the bank, or anyone other than Medusa herself, you lose just a little more of that small inkling of hope you allowed yourself to have. 

At present, you sit on the couch in the living room beside Robin while you eat noodles; the rest of the Chinese spread sitting on the coffee table in front of you or in the laps of Steve, Eddie, and Robin. 

On the plush chair to your left sits Steve who is currently chowing down on some dumplings while staring with rapt attention at the television, and Eddie–who announced his newfound aversion to normative seating options upon his arrival in your home–sits on the floor by your socked feet. 

Though the TV is on, you aren’t really paying attention. It’s been just over a week now since you moved in and one week to the day since your interview, and by now you’ve lost all hope. 

Privately, you decided that you would call time of death on this potential job by the end of today and start searching for a new one tomorrow. You know there’s plenty of other jobs out there, but the prospect of working with Robin and Eddie had excited you and made you a whole lot less anxious about working in this new city.  

Ring! Ring! Ring! 

Hope surges inside of you despite your intentions of abandoning it. Suddenly, you feel three sets of eyes on you. Even Steve—who had been incredibly invested in the lifeguards running in slow motion on the television screen—looks at you now. 

They all knew you’d been waiting for the call. They also knew that you hadn’t received one. Not the one, at least. You wish you had time to get up and answer the phone that sits on the side table in your bedroom because you’d really rather not admit to them that it’s simply another telemarketer. 

Since you don’t have the time to reach the phone in your bedroom though, you pull in a deep breath, reach over the sofa arm, and pick up the landline that sits on the glass end table. 

“Hello?” 

“Hello, this is Cordelia Hannigan from Hannigan’s-”

And after that you think you black out. Because you don’t hear anything after that. Because this is the happiest you’ve ever been about getting a call about a job. Which sounds ridiculous since it’s just a waitressing job. But it represents so much more. It’s the seal that cements your place in this city with these people. It represents your new beginning. 

With that realization you decide that you should probably listen to your new beginning. Trying your best to tune into Cordelia’s words, you hear her throwing words and phrases around like strict dress code and uniform and training and first shift. When she’s done, you tell her thank you, and return the phone to the base, hanging it up with a resolute click. 

Three sets of eyes remain on you and your frozen body. When you don’t say anything after one second of hanging up, they get restless. 

“So?” Steve prompts, leaning forward in his chair in anticipation. 

“Was it Medusa?” Robin asks from your side. 

You nod slowly, not believing it yourself. “Uh-huh…I got the job.” 

“You got the job!” They all shout in freaky unison. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. You think you hear Steve mutter déjà-vu to himself as Robin and Eddie continue their cheering and congratulating. 

“I-I start training this week and my first shift next week,” You inform. 

And then Eddie’s shouting, “Speech, speech, speech!” with his hands cupped over his mouth as if you’re much further away from him. 

“Alright, alright!” You acquiesce as the others join his chant, putting your noodles down on the coffee table and getting up to stand in front of the television.

“Um, I guess I just want to thank all of you,” You begin, feeling suddenly sincere, but still maintaining a note of jest. “I couldn’t have done it without all of you. Steve, you helped me transport and unpack most of my shit. And I have a lot of shit.”

He nods in agreement. “And I couldn’t have focused on prepping for the interview if I was worried about my stuff sitting in my car in that garage, so thank you…Robin, you helped me set up the interview with Cordelia-”

“Medusa,” Robin and Eddie correct simultaneously. 

“Medusa,” You correct yourself. “And you also recommended me for the position. So, thank you…And last, but certainly not least, Eddie,” You say, smiling softly when you catch his eye. He smiles right back at you, that charming dimple appearing on his face as he does. 

“Without your pointers I probably would not have made it through the interview without being turned to stone.”–Eddie snorts–“And I also probably would have gotten completely lost and wandered into the East River if you hadn’t been there when I left. So, thank you…” You tell him sincerely, the partially joking tone you had maintained throughout your cheesy speech erased completely now since your gaze had fallen on him. 

“Good night, New York!” You finish, trying to play up the cheesiness now to divert from the seriousness that had snuck into your tone, and you bow dramatically as Robin and Eddie clap and woop. But Steve, you notice, is glancing oddly as Eddie.

You laugh as you take your seat, plucking your cardboard box of noodles off the table as you go. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

“Robin!” You hear Steve call from out in the living room, his voice muffled slightly through your closed bedroom door. “The door!” 

Robin’s door creaks open before you hear her exit her bedroom. 

“You couldn’t have gotten it?” She complains as she walks through the apartment to answer the door. 

“No. Baywatch is on,” Steve replies like his answer needs no further explanation. You snicker to yourself as you button up your pressed, white uniform shirt. You swear you can hear Robin’s eyes rolling. 

Baywatch was Steve’s favourite TV show; he never missed an episode—except for last week when a meeting at his school ran longer than expected and he’d called Robin to get her to tape it for him. He decided that now–while you were both getting ready to leave for work–was the perfect time to come over and watch it (instead of taking the tape back to his place since your TV is better anyway). 

The apartment's front door–which remains perpetually unlocked when you and Robin are home–opens and you listen closely to hear who it might be while you work on tucking your shirt into your formal black dress pants. 

“Oh. Hey, Eddie,” You hear Robin greet, though it sounds more like a question with the confusion lacing her tone. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, his footsteps tapping against the faux hardwood as Robin shuts the door with a loud slam. 

With a quick glance over at your alarm clock, you find that it’s almost time to leave. The realization sends nervous butterflies to flight in your belly. Tonight is your very first shift at Hannigan’s. 

Last week you had your training, which was nerve-wracking, but tonight was the real thing. Tonight you would be earning your first dollar, receiving your first tip, suggesting wine pairings, and probably dealing with rude customers. And all of it makes you nervous. 

It’s scary for so many reasons, for more reasons than just the fact that new jobs (no matter what they are) are always scary. It’s scary because it’s the next step in the process of making a new–hopefully better–life for yourself here. For that reason, you want it to go well. But you aren’t sure what ‘well’ really means in this situation. 

“Y/N!” Robin calls, shaking you from your thoughts. “Cab’s here!” 

Blowing out a quick breath, and trying your best to shake out your nerves, you grab your jacket and bag and exit your bedroom, still feeling those butterflies, but determined not to let them shake you. At least not too much. 

Leaning against the now open apartment door is Eddie who’s dressed in the same black dress pants and white button-up as you and Robin. He shoots you an easy smile as you emerge from your room, and you smile back. 

His long hair, which he usually lets flow over his shoulders in soft waves, is now tied in a low bun. He’s missing his usual chunky silver rings and all his tattoos are hidden beneath his sleeves and a highly buttoned collar. 

Though it’s strange to see him stripped of his unique accessories, you find yourself scrolling your eyes over his body. With his hair away from his face, his features are highlighted, revealing the strong line of his jaw and making his eyes appear somehow larger. 

As your eyes move down his body, you note the way his arms look in the button up, how his thighs fill out the dress pants. You find yourself missing his rings though. Something twists in your belly, though this time it’s not nerves. 

“Ready?” Robin’s voice asks, once again shaking you from your thoughts. She must notice that you weren’t entirely there, that you were lost in your thoughts because she stops shoving things into her bag to ask: “You okay?” 

Ripping your gaze away from Eddie and turning to Robin, you reply, “Yeah!” in a voice much higher than your own. You cough quickly as a cover and repeat your words, sounding much less caught out the second time. 

“Okay,” Robin drawls suspiciously. “Well, we should really get down to the cab now cause we probably have about 60 seconds before they decide to leave and force us to brave the windchill ourselves,” She informs, pulling her jacket on and shoving her tote bag over her shoulder. “Alright, you’ll lock up and we’ll see you at the coffee house afterwards?” Robin asks Steve. 

“Yeah, sure,” He replies absentmindedly from where he’s glued to the sofa. 

“Shit, I should probably get my keys then,” You mutter. If they’re going to the coffee house after your shift, then you can’t rely on Robin unlocking the door for you if you’re not together when you get home. 

Before you can walk back to your room to retrieve your keys though, Steve pipes up. You’re pretty sure it’s the first time he’s taken his eyes off the television since he got here. 

“Wait, you’re not coming?” He asks, his body twisted to look at you with his arm draped over the back of the couch. 

“Oh,” You reply dumbly because ‘we’ apparently included you. You were a part of the ‘we’ Robin meant. ‘We’, as in Robin, Eddie, Steve, and you.

It’s not like they haven’t been welcoming since you got here, but it’s only been a few weeks and they’ve been friends and neighbours for years; you thought it might take them longer to accept you into the group since they’re so solid. A part of you felt like they might still see you as an outsider; someone who doesn’t get invited to their after-work coffee shop hangouts just yet. But they’d expected you to come. Sometime within the last couple weeks you became a part of their definition of ‘we’.

“No, I’ll come,” You confirm with a nod in an attempt to appear casual about the invite. 

“Awesome,” Steve says, turning back to the television. 

“Guys!” Robin shouts and you realize then that she’s no longer in the apartment. Eddie pokes his head out into the hall as Robin says, “Come on, the cab is waiting!” 

“Yep, coming,” Eddie says and you follow right behind him, feeling so many things all at once. Nervous about your shift, excited about being invited to the coffee house, and another thing for Eddie that you can’t quite name just yet. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

The fast-paced environment of Hannigan’s is overwhelming, and while normally it might frazzle you, you find that you don’t mind it nearly as much as you thought you might. It’s definitely a different environment than your last job–a desk job that only promoted boredom within you–, but the new challenge of this place is stimulating.

As the night goes on, the din of the restaurant only intensifies; nearly every table and booth is filled with patrons talking and enjoying their 5-star meals, the sounds of cutlery clashing against fine china, hosts and hostesses greeting people at the entrance and making reservations for customers over the phone for months from now, the sizzling, clinking sounds roaring from the kitchen when the swinging traffic doors open, then shushing when the doors close again. 

With just over an hour left of your shift and the clearing of what feels like the thousandth table you’ve waited on tonight, you watch as yet another diner is seated in your section. He’s a tall man, his dark hair styled precisely atop his head, and has a short goatee beard, trimmed to perfection. It reminds you of Kurt Cobain’s facial hair, though nothing else about him resembles the rock icon. The man looks rich–though you suppose most people who dine here are. From what you can tell with the distance between you, he might be about ten years your senior.

Not wanting to keep him waiting, you begin to stride over to his table, though you are just as soon intercepted, a large hand gently engulfing your wrist. You turn and find that the hand is attached to Eddie, his deep brown eyes staring back at you, and suddenly the contact brings heat to your face and a zip of something unnamable down your arm. Both of you retract your hands swiftly before Eddie explains his interception: “Why don’t you let me take this table, yeah?”

Confusion muddles your features for a moment. Why on earth would Eddie want to take on another table? It’s busy enough in here as it is. Plus, taking a table that is not in your section is strictly against the rules and as it’s your very first shift here, you’re not quite comfortable enough just yet to bend any rules. Especially not when they were fiercely outlined to you by Cordelia, who you were sure that if she possessed the powers of Medusa like Eddie and Robin say, she would surely turn you to stone if she caught you breaking any of them. 

Since you’re not willing to risk getting yourself or Eddie into any sort of trouble, you tell him: “You have your own section to worry about, Eddie. Don’t worry about mine, I got this.” With an easy smile in hopes of further reassuring him, though you’re not sure of what. 

You barely make it a few steps in the direction of your table before he’s stopping you again, this time with a gentle hand at your elbow. 

“It’s just that…I’ve had that guy in my section before and he’s…difficult,” Eddie explains, struggling to come up with a word to describe him and seemingly being displeased with the one he chose as his brows furrowed together. 

Oh. 

His explanation causes heat to rise to your face, warming your entire chest with a strange fuzzy feeling. Was Eddie trying to protect you? If he was, that was very sweet of him, but still, you can’t allow him to take this table for you–even though you feel like you could melt to mush in his grasp right now. 

“I’ve dealt with difficult people all evening,” You say. “I’ve got this.” 

Before he can protest anymore or continue to convince you not to take the table, you’re walking away from him, your soft skin slipping from his gentle grip. 

Eddie watches you walk away, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as you greet Paul and hand him the menu. The second Eddie sees that trademark salacious smirk creep across Paul’s face, Eddie’s jaw clenches involuntarily, but it’s not like he can do anything about it now.

Had he had any right to try to do anything about it before? To try to take your table? He hasn’t known you very long, so who is he to step in and attempt to protect you from that creep? He shouldn’t even feel this protective of you, this jealous. What the fuck is going on with him lately? 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Collapsing onto the big fluffy couch at The Ugly Mug, you feel yourself instantly sink into the soft cushions. Have they always felt like literal clouds molding perfectly to your body or does it just seem that way after being on your feet for hours? 

Now that your first shift is over you can appreciate how truly tiring it was. Adrenaline must have helped you stay on your feet all night, helped you acclimate to the job, but now that you’re seated in the calm, quiet atmosphere of the coffee shop, all that energy has left you entirely. 

“Ugh, is it always this exhausting?” You sigh, slumped between Robin and Eddie. Steve sits on a plush chair next to the couch. 

“I-” Robin begins, but Eddie interrupts before she can finish. 

“Don’t lie to her, Rob,” Eddie says, sensing that Robin was likely about to lie in order to comfort you. 

“Fine,” She replies, sighing, exhaustion weighing heavy in her bones as well. “It is. It’s always this exhausting…” 

“But,” Robin drawls teasingly, pushing herself up so she’s no longer slumped down on the couch. “It’s not every shift you get hit on,” She says, wiggling her brows suggestively at you. 

“What? Who got hit on?” Steve pipes up curiously, placing his pastry down on the round table beside him. 

“Y/N,” Robin confirms teasingly, and you cover your face with your hands. 

Eddie huffs from beside you as Steve says, “What? No way! By who?” 

“One of the rich guys. I think he’s a new regular–Paul,” Robin answers, a childish tone to her voice when she says his name that makes you think she might start singing Sitting In A Tree with yours and Paul’s names any second now. 

Steve’s eyes widen comically and Eddie grumbles something incoherent from your side, but you don’t get the chance to ask him what he said before Steve is hurriedly asking: “So? What happened?”

“Well, he asked me out,” You reply, a little embarrassed from their excitement as you adjust so your legs are crossed under you. Paul was charming from the moment you handed him his menu, all smiles and classic handsomeness. 

“And you said?” 

“I said yes,” You reply quietly at the same time as Robin exclaims, She said yes! She’d cackled when you’d told her about it at your lockers after your shift ended, joking that you could quit Hannigan’s and Paul could become your sugar daddy instead. 

Normally, you might have declined such an offer from someone you’d just met–especially if that someone was 10 years older than you–, but the whole point of this move was change. Change required doing things you might not normally do, it required some spontaneity and courage. Both of which were not necessarily your strong suits, but you were trying. The first step was simply saying yes to things. 

Steve smiles, impressed. “Alright, Y/L/N!” 

And then, realization dawns over his features and he quickly turns his attention to Robin. 

“Speaking of dates…” Steve begins, using the same salacious tone Robin had used earlier. “Robin, how are things going with Alicia?” 

Looking at Robin, her eyes widen as she replies, “Oh my God, I totally spaced and forgot to tell you!” 

Leaning in closer to Eddie on your other side, you whisper, “Who’s Alicia?” 

“This girl Robin’s been seeing for a bit,” He answers easily. 

You tune back into the conversation just in time to hear Robin inform, “I asked her to be my girlfriend.” Even if you weren’t looking at her right now you’d be able to hear the smile in her voice. 

“That’s great, what’d she say?” Steve asks, jumping in even as Robin opens her mouth to continue, clearly not finished speaking.

“She said yes!” Robin exclaims, not even pausing to tease him about his over-eagerness to hear the rest of the story or give him a playful roll of her eyes like she usually might. This Alicia woman must mean a lot to Robin if she’s obliged to censor her usual sarcastic quips. 

“Fuck yeah!” Says Steve as he high fives Robin and you chuckle at their odd celebration. 

“Robin, that’s great. I’m so happy for you,” You congratulate, hand on her shoulder, remembering when you were teens and she never thought she’d get to have a girlfriend. Robin smiles sheepishly now. 

What a satisfying end to the day. You’re exhausted, but at the same time exhilarated. It feels like things are finally falling into place, like you’d been putting together a puzzle and some of the pieces had gone missing. But you’ve found some of them, and now you’re sliding them into their places. And they fit. For the first time, you feel like you fit, and that makes you believe that everything is going to be okay–that you’re going to be okay. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

“So,” Robin drawls as she places two juices on the kitchen table in front of you, one for her and one for you. “Where’s he taking you?” 

“I don’t know yet, actually. All I know is that it’s ‘somewhere nice’ and he’s going to be picking me up at 7:30-ish,” You reply as you twist the cap off your drink. 

“Mysterious,” Robin comments after taking a sip of her juice.

“Your date’s tonight?” Steve asks as he wanders into the kitchen and sticks his head into the fridge, likely scouring the shelves for a snack. 

“Yeah, why?”

Steve stands from his bent position inside the fridge and turns to you and Robin, a slice of cold pizza in hand. “Mine too! Gonna bring her her favourite flowers, take her to her favourite restaurant, go see the tree at Rockefeller–the whole shebang.” 

Steve takes a giant bite out of his pizza slice, then slides over to the table and steals Robin’s drink. She makes a disgusted face at him in protest and pushes the drink away from her when he places it back on the table after taking a healthy swig.

“That’s really sweet, Steve. I’m sure she’ll have a great time,” You tell him genuinely. 

“Ugh!” Robin groans, drawing your attention away from Steve as her head falls back on her shoulders dramatically. “Stop talking about dates! I haven’t seen Alicia in three days and I have a shift tonight,” She complains, pouting. 

“You’re the one who brought it up,” Steve mutters, taking his slice with him into the living room where he joins Eddie and Nancy–who sit on the armchair and couch, reading and writing, respectively. 

“Whatever,” Robin replies, slumping down in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. 

“Aren’t you seeing her tomorrow?” You ask though you know the answer because it’s all that she’s talked about since she last saw Alicia. You’re sure you could pick the girl out of a crowd without ever having seen her just from everything Robin has spewed to you about her. It’s nice to see her happy. 

“Yeah,” Robin says, tone solemn. 

“Why do you sound disappointed?” You wonder with a chuckle.

“Because tomorrow is not right now,” Robin explains and you snort at her impatience to see her girlfriend again. 

God, you don’t remember the last time you felt that way about someone; wanting to be around them all the time, missing them the second they left your side. Maybe it was college the last time you’d felt that way? You haven’t really dated since then. That one disastrous blind date your previous co-workers set you up on does not count. You’d actually prefer to block it out of your memory. 

Robin sighs. “Anyway, I should hop in the shower before my shift,” She says as she stands and heads to the bathroom. She’s genuinely bummed that she won’t get to see Alicia until tomorrow 

“Have fun,” You joke, head falling back on your shoulders as you watch her walk into the bathroom upside-down. You think you hear a sarcastic ha-ha from her before the door shuts. 

Also upside-down from your current perspective is Eddie who you see sliding the window to the balcony open before ducking under it and going out onto the balcony.

He’s been off all night. While usually he would be cracking jokes and being his usual over-dramatic, loud self, tonight he was uncharacteristically quiet, keeping to himself. You’ve spent enough time around him by now to tell when something might be up with him. 

Standing and grabbing the large throw blanket tossed over one end of the couch, you wrap it around yourself before going to the window, sliding it open again and carefully ducking under it as you step out into the chilly night. 

The remnants of winter's early sunset remains on the horizon, lining the city in a dark blue hue while the sky above and beyond that is blanketed by blackness and a dull smattering of stars. That’s the one thing you miss about living in a small town; the lack of light pollution allowed for the stars in the sky to burn bright. Here, it’s impossible to make out a constellation from the street. You suppose the city lights are as close to stars as you’ll get out here.

Eddie leans against the brick and concrete balcony wall, his forearms perched on the cold surface, watching the city as plumes of cigarette smoke swirl around his head. He turns to look at you when he hears you approaching, tucking his chin to his shoulder. 

“You smoke?” You ask, pointing at the cigarette held delicately between his index and middle fingers. You’re feeling a little awkward for some reason. Maybe because you’re not used to Eddie being silent. 

Eddie sniffs, says, “Yeah. Trying to quit.” Then snuffs out the half-smoked stick by crushing it against the concrete. He knows the habit might bother you. It bothers the others as well; Nancy has called it a ‘cancer stick’, Steve has often taken to flushing his cigs in protest, and Robin simply informs him that it stinks. He also knows that you have your date with Paul tonight, and as much as he dislikes the guy, he doesn’t want you smelling of smoke for your date. 

“Hm,” You hum, coming up beside him and leaning over the wall, a blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders. You shiver and he has the urge to remove his leather jacket and wrap it around you. 

There’s a lull then, in which Eddie wonders why you might have come out here. From the sounds of your prior conversation with Robin, you need to start getting ready for your date soon. Why come out here just to stand around with him in the cold? 

“Um,” Eddie begins, unsure of how to phrase this so it doesn’t sound like he’s shooing you off. Just because he doesn’t understand why you’re out here with him doesn’t mean he wants you to leave. He enjoys your company, wants to be around you more. As much as possible, actually. “Did-did you need something?” 

You hesitate for a moment, before saying, “No. No, I just wanted to come check on you.” Though it sounds more like a question. Like you’re prompting him gently. 

“Oh. Okay,” Eddie replies, surprised and not sure what else to say to that. You’re so thoughtful and observant it makes his chest hurt. 

Eddie can feel you examining his face closely and he lets you, continuing to stare out at the city below. 

“I can leave if you-” 

“No,” Eddie replies suddenly before you can even finish your sentence, his eyes finding yours as he says it. Your eyes are wide, expectant. “I mean-no. You’re good.” 

“Okay,” You say, settling in beside him.  

The conversation tapers off again and you’re left with the sounds of honking cars, the muffled racket of people talking in the street below, the robust sound of a public bus stopping down at the corner. A harsh wind kisses your cheeks, likely staining Eddie’s pink. 

He feels awkward. He’s never felt awkward around you before. Not even when you almost strangled him that one morning and he smashed his head against the coffee table. Maybe it’s because of everything going on in his head right now. 

An odd tension sizzles between you. He can feel its strength, more fierce than the wind. But it’s elusive, an enigma he can’t quite grasp. He wants not to think about it and tries not to since he can’t do anything about it anyway. 

“How are you adjusting?” 

“Are you okay?” 

You both break the silence at the same time. A smile breaks across your face and Eddie blows a harsh breath out through his nose. 

“Sorry, you go first,” Eddie offers. 

“I just-are you alright?” You rush out after a brief pause, seemingly self-conscious of the question, though Eddie could never imagine why. “I just thought you maybe seemed a bit off in there…And, like, usually when people separate from the pack, it might mean something’s up,” You explain slowly, that almost inquisitive tone appearing in your voice again. 

Eddie side eyes you, your perceptiveness surprising.

You must take the glance to mean that he’s annoyed because you say, wanting to lighten the mood, “...Or they just want to be left the hell alone.”

Eddie snorts, turning his body to face yours now, his right hip pressed into the cold concrete wall with his elbow resting atop it. You mirror his stance, adjusting the fluffy blanket around you as you go. 

“But I find it usually means the first thing….And-and a lot of the time I don’t think that people really want to be left alone, even if they say they do.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie teases lightly, wanting to shift the focus away from himself. He can’t tell you what’s wrong.

“Mhm,” You nod, playing along with his teasing by holding your head high as if you have all the wisdom in the world to offer. But then your expression changes. Just slightly, but Eddie sees it. What you say next isn’t teasing, what you say next is from your soul. 

“I think what they really want—more than anything—is to not have to be alone ever again,” You say, and it’s like a shadow passes over your face. He notes the change in your eyes; like you’re living a past feeling. 

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees after a beat, tone the furthest from teasing it’s ever been. Both because he knows the feeling, but also because he doesn’t want you to feel alone in it. Because he can tell you’ve been really lonely before. And he hates that his evasion of your question made you recall that loneliness. 

That look in your eyes disappears, and you seem to shake out of it easily as you look him in the face and ask, “What are you thinking?” 

It’s a pretty innocuous question. But right now, at this moment, it holds more weight. 

“I’m thinking that…you’re right. I guess I’ve just been in my head.” 

He wasn’t planning on revealing that. He doesn’t even know why he said anything. It’s like you pulled it out of him. It’s like he can’t resist. 

“Yeah? About what?” You ask, eyes searching his. 

He can’t tell you. He wishes he could, but he can’t. It would be such a jerk move to tell you before your date. And it’s not like he could have told you earlier either. Not after the promise he’d made. He already feels like he’s said too much. 

“We don’t have to talk about it. I get it,” You say after he doesn’t reply. 

But you don’t sound hurt. Instead, you sound sincere in your acceptance of the fact that he doesn’t want to say anything. It makes him want to tell you even more. Your sincere kindness, your thoughtfulness, it makes him ache. How can he not be honest with you? Especially when you’ve been so honest with him. 

In order to honour his previous promise, Eddie layers the truth in a sheer veil of lies, concealing parts of the truth, while revealing others. 

“There’s-there’s this girl,” Eddie begins, working out how he’s going to weave lies in with the truth. “But one of the guys from my band–Jeff–asked her out recently…And I-” 

“You like her too?” You guess. You’d known from the secret smile that crept onto his face; fond but sad. 

Eddie nods slowly, relieved that he didn’t have to say the words aloud himself. Like saying them would make it more real, would confirm what he already knows. 

“But Jeff asked her out first. So I don’t have a right to…to feel the way I do about it,” Eddie explains, navigating his way around the truth. He’s lying to you almost as much as he’s lying to himself. “And it would be wrong to tell her now. I’d be betraying Jeff’s trust.” It’s not Jeff’s trust he’d be betraying. 

You sigh, stumped. “I’m sorry, that’s hard…tell me about her?” You ask, though your voice sounds strained. 

God, you’re so nice. It’s killing him. He feels so guilty. How can he lie to you about you? He can’t. Not when you’re looking at him like you are. Like every word out of his mouth is the most important thing that has ever been said. 

“Um…Well. She’s-she’s open-minded and accepting, a little weird,” Eddie describes with a chuckle, remembering the morning you greeted him with your bathrobe tie. 

When your eyes connect, he can’t help but soften, impassioned as he looks into them. Wanting so badly to let you know he’s talking about you, he toes the line. 

“She’s genuine. Honest. What you see is what you get with her,” Eddie says. The city noise fades away and your breaths become the wind, your eyes the city lights. 

“She cares about her friends. It feels like she always knows the right thing to say, even if she feels like she doesn’t…And she’s the kindest person I’ve ever met.” 

Something changes in your expression. Your eyes burn, searching his intently, looking back and forth between the left and the right. His eyes can’t lie, he can’t force them to. They reveal everything. They can’t conceal or contain his feelings. 

Eddie yearns to hold your face gently in his hands, to feel your lips against his, to feel your smile as he kisses you. 

Your chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as if sudden emotion overwhelms you, your eyes aflame. You wait in anticipation for his next words as wind whistles around you, ruffling your blanket.  

“Anyway,” Eddie coughs, dispelling the tension, and glances down at his wristwatch. “It’s getting late, you should probably start getting ready for your date.” 

Recognition flashes in your eyes, like you’d forgotten entirely about your upcoming commitment. 

The spell is broken. He hadn’t even realized there’d been a spell until it was broken. 

You take a step back and it’s then Eddie realizes you were so close your toes were nearly touching. Shit. Why had he done that? That was almost worse than telling you everything he’d said was actually about you. 

“Yeah. Right,” You agree, walking back towards the window.

Eddie turns and leans against the balcony wall, looks back over the city. The wind is the wind, and the lights are just lights. 

“Oh, and Eddie?” You call. Eddie swivels his head to look back at you, one foot inside the apartment and one out on the balcony with him, straddling the window sill. “I hope it works out with her.” 

Eddie gives you a good-natured smile. “Yeah. Me too,” He replies as you duck under the window and return to the apartment. You close it shut softly, leaving him with the wind and the lights. 

Eventually, Eddie goes back inside too, locking every intense emotion that had built up inside of him out in the cold. 

As he wanders back into the apartment, he finds your bedroom door is now closed and Nancy’s spot on the couch is vacant. Robin is rushing out of her room in her work uniform while she roots through her bag, mumbling about her keys. And Steve, who’s snacking on some grapes from the fruit bowl on the counter, has Robin’s keys casually swinging from his index finger. Though Robin doesn’t notice until Steve ahem’s, and she snatches them from his hand before reaching the door. 

“Oh!” She says as her hand twists the handle, and spins around on her heel to face Eddie and Steve. “If either one of you is still here before Y/N leaves, tell her to have a good night with Paul. She deserves it.” 

And the door slams shut behind her as Eddie takes his seat on the couch. 

He has every intention of picking his book back up where he left off. Though it remains open in his hands as he stares at your door. He can’t stop staring at your door. Which should be infinitely less captivating than the words between the pages in his hands. And yet it is not. It is far more captivating than any book he has ever or will ever read. The thought strikes him like a bolt of lightning zapping a tree and setting it on fire.

“Hey, man, are you okay?” Steve asks, noticing Eddie’s prolonged staring at your door. 

Pulling his eyes very slowly away from your door, Eddie replies, “Yeah, I…Yeah.” 

When his gaze finds Steve’s, he’s looking at Eddie like he’s trying to do long division in his head. 

“...Okay,” Steve drawls, retrieving his jacket from the counter in the kitchen. “We’re definitely gonna talk about that later. But for now, I gotta pick up Joselyn. Later, man!” He calls as he exits the apartment, leaving just Eddie and your door, alone. 

He’s not necessarily looking forward to whatever conversation Steve wants to have with him later, but he’s hoping this Joselyn woman will keep Steve busy long enough for Eddie to avoid the conversation entirely–at least for the night. 

It’s been 23 minutes and your bedroom door still has not opened. Eddie knows the exact amount of time it remains closed because although he had tried to focus on the words in his book after Steve left, he simply could not stop looking at your door. And wondering when it would open. Hoping it would open. Estimating when it would open by calculating how long it might take you to get ready. For a solid three seconds, Eddie debates knocking on it, before deciding that’s crazy because-

The door opens. 

“How do I-” 

Eddie stares. Suddenly your door becomes the least captivating thing in the room–in the entire universe–and he can’t believe he ever thought it was captivating to begin with. 

Your black dress—which reaches your ankles—is simple, though it hugs your body wonderfully. The straps are thin and the neck is square-shaped. 

Eddie could equate your beauty to a thousand other beautiful things. He could equate it to paintings and sunsets and flowers. He could equate it to the most beautiful poetry and the most profound stories. But the truth is that none of his comparisons would ever be enough. None of them could express how he feels when he looks at you; like his heart stops and speeds up in his chest at the same time. Like he’s never seen anything beautiful in his life until this moment or even knew what the word beauty meant until he saw you. 

“Oh-Everyone left already?” You question when you realize Eddie is alone. You and Eddie are alone. 

“Y-yeah,” Eddie stutters, mouth suddenly dry. 

“Oh…alright.”

Eddie swallows hard, trying his very best not to watch you like he’d watched your door. But that task proves impossible. And now it’s quiet. And it’s been quiet for far too long as you stand there fidgeting with your shawl looking like that with no one to tell you that you look like that. No one except Eddie. 

“Um,” Eddie begins. Great start. He can’t say what he wants to, so instead he explains his presence: “I didn’t wanna leave without letting you know, since everyone else left...But, uh, what-what were you gonna say…before?” God, he was the worst! If he can’t say the word to himself, how is he supposed to repeat it out loud to you? 

“Oh,” You say, looking down at yourself bashfully. “I was just gonna ask how I looked,” You explain, waving your hand in dismissal.

Eddie wants to not be the worst. Eddie wants you to think that he’s not the worst. Eddie wants you to know that you look like that. 

“You look great,” He says, slightly breathless. ‘Great’ is a safe word, it’s a friendly word. It’s not the word he wanted to use. 

You smile softly, averting your eyes from him and to the floor as you say a meek, but sincere, “Thank you.” 

Eddie really shouldn’t say anymore. But he loves the way it feels when you get all shy from his compliments. He loves the way you thank him. Like you know his compliment is true, but to hear him say it means something different, something special.

So he can’t keep it in. But he wills himself to reign in his emotions; to freeze the butterflies in his belly before they take flight. 

“You-” look really pretty. “Your dress is really pretty.” 

“Thank you, Eddie,” You say, swaying nervously on the spot. 

Fuck. Shit. Jesus Christ! There wasn’t a net big enough in the world to contain the swarm of butterflies fluttering in his belly right now. It’s downright embarrassing. 

You seek out his eyes. And Eddie knows. And you part your lips, about to speak. 

“I-”

Knock, knock, knock. 

All too soon, your gaze shifts to the front door. But Eddie’s eyes remain on you. 

“Oh, that’s Paul,” You inform, pulling your shawl more tightly around your body before you begin walking towards the door. You make it about three paces before you realize, “Shoot, I forgot my purse in my room, would you mind getting the door?” 

“Sure,” Eddie says, minding a whole awful lot. But he stands from the couch anyway and makes his way to the door as you head back into your bedroom. 

The door swings open, revealing a sharply dressed Paul leaning against the doorframe. His suit is pressed to perfection, not a wrinkle in sight. It’s too pristine, like he’s not moved in it, not sat down. 

When Paul lifts his head from where it’s bent on his neck, his salacious smirk disappears the moment he sees Eddie. He’s far less handsome with that ugly frown on his face. He looks like a petulant child. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Eddie bites his tongue. Then forces a fake smile as he greets politely, “Good to see you too, Paul.” 

He expected nothing less from the guy, but that didn’t make it any easier to hold back. Sure, he wasn’t serving him in the restaurant–so there weren’t any clearly defined rules here–but you were about to go out on a date with the guy. So he held back. 

“Y/N will be right out, she’s-” 

The click of your heels against the wood floors sound behind him. Paul’s smirk spreads across his face like molasses as he eyes you. Though Eddie’s sure they don’t roam further than your chest. 

A surge of unrightful possessiveness swells within him at Paul’s obvious ogling. 

“Hey!” You greet him cheerily and Eddie steps aside, fading into the background. 

“Hey, babe,” Paul says as you reach him and Eddie cringes at the territorial nickname. It takes everything in him not to shudder like he’s just seen a child pick their nose and wipe it on a pole in the subway. 

You hug and Eddie watches as one of Paul's long arms stretches around your waist, though his hand hovers dangerously low before you pull away and Paul remarks, “Ready to go?”

“Yup,” You confirm, with a sweet smile. With that, Paul guides you out of the apartment with a hand on your middle back and just before you exit the apartment, you request: “Lock up on your way out?” 

It shouldn’t feel this good to have your attention on him again. Shouldn’t make his heart skip in his chest. 

Eddie just nods, sure that if he tried to speak, he would emit some embarrassing sound instead of a casual sure thing.

You smile at him widely, “Bye, Eddie.” Has his name always sounded that lovely? 

“Bye, Y/N.” Has your name ever felt that lovely rolling off his tongue? 

The door slams shut behind you. 

“Shit.” 

Eddie’s belly bubbles with a feeling. Jealousy burns in his gut. He has no right to feel this way. The moment he names it, he wants to un-name it. The moment he names it, he wants to ban the word from his mind, shove it inside one of those dark spots up there, and hope it never sees the light of day again. 

He made a promise to Robin. He doesn’t get to feel this way. 

So he tries his best not to call it what it is and tells himself that it has to be a simple combination of his hatred for Paul and his knowledge that you are a ridiculously wonderful person who deserves so much better than Paul Becker. But this is all he can allow himself to acknowledge. 

What he will not acknowledge is the third part to this equation that adds up to this feeling. What he will not acknowledge is the way he feels when you look at him, when you say his name, when you stand in front of him in a black dress and he can’t tell you how pretty you look. 

So he focuses on the one thing that is the most natural to him: the fact that Eddie hates Paul. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Next Chapter [coming soon]

A/N: And that is chapter one, folks! I've been working on this for months now, so I really, really hope you enjoyed it. Please consider reblogging and leaving a nice comment or sending me an ask telling me what you thought!

[rangercorpstherapy]

ok weird question, but like, virginity in these books?? it's the medieval period so it was customary and expected (and scandalous if you don't) to save yourself till marriage but like, Commandant Crowley Meratyn gives off major 'guy who fucks' energy so I supposed that it's just irrelevant??

also Halt and Pauline had sexual tension for 15 fuckin years, and Will and Alyss dated for 7 years, and Gilan and Jenny dated for-- my god they're STILL dating.

someone explain

the view on virginity and sexuality differs between the Early Middle Ages and Late Middle Ages, it also depends on if the subject is nobility or not.

At the start of the Middle Ages, there wasn't as much sexual freedom as nowadays but there was certainly much less taboo on the topic. People were still connected with their old traditions and ways even though they were introduced to/and or practising Christianity. There wasn't as much of a pearl-clutching 'oh no an ankle' sex fear in the Middle Ages as people think. Yes, clergy swore oaths of celibacy and nobility were expected to stay chaste (although this expectation rested more on women than on men). For noble families, it was important to be absolutely sure that that was your baby because you couldn't just do a DNA test. Kinda important if you want to keep the family in power and make sure the bloodline continues undisputed.

Back to the pearl-clutching, it was not sex people were afraid of. There was no taboo on nudity (partly because one didn't have much privacy back then) and sex was even a source of public entertainment, for example in plays or on fairs. It was more pregnancy that was the issue. Bastards weren't treated very well along with their mothers (many choosing to leave their children in orphanages), noble bastards were dealt better cards, they could inherit and would often be seen as valuable enough that they could be used in marriage pacts. This period of vague sex is ok just be careful came to a very abrupt end because of reformations in the Church. Remember what I said about clergy having to be celibate...yeah let's just say they were not doing that. To the point of having 'wives' and kids, not even sneakily, they lived with them in a house, like a family. This was an issue from average priest to bishop. One of the many reforms was meant to make sure that calibates were calibating and put stricter measurements in place. Nuns were forced to live more secluded (before they took a very active role in the life around the convent), and convents became closed off for outsiders. Through efforts from the Pope, sex became demonized and women were presented as evil seductresses and the root of all evil evil desire. I don't think it was the same reforms but around the same time all bastards were stripped of any claim to inheritance and even if fathers claimed them they could not be legitimized. Making having bastards/being one even more taboo.

But even with all that were the Middle Ages not the most anti sex period in western history. The idea of "having sex before marriage is the end of the world and God will strike you down and dance upon your remains we are scared to hold hands with the opposite sex" came during the 16th century with the rise of STDS and would continue well into the Victorian era.

Back to the question.

It's hard to say when RA takes place, having some more modern technology but still having many characteristics of the High Middle Ages (lack of agricultural reforms, strong feudal system and a lack of cities). I am guessing that when RA took place it was around the same time the reforms were spreading (give or take a few decades maybe).

So to finally answer the question:

Crowley is saving himself for nobody, fucked till his heart gave out that's why he died with a smile on his face. Front-row seats to those sex plays at fairs. Always complaining about the good ol' days when you could get laid without some guy in robes and a hat having an opinion about it. Also, he's gay so it's not like he has to worry about populating Araluen with many handsome redhead babies (although he is a bit disappointed he can't be of service in that aspect of course).

Alyss and Will (all the ward kids for that matter) are sooo bastards to me. Bullied by the other kids you say??? Needing special protection or else they would have no one in the world you say??? People knowing they fornicated in the vineyard would not make their reps worse. Those bitches did NOT care, they fucked around day and night and would just get shotgun married if it was necessary. What is anyone going to do? How dare you and your scary wizard boyfriend part of an elite scary people group whom we are all collectively deeply afraid of have sex!

Halt was heir to the throne and probably had some speeches about how not to waste his royal seed on just anyone, to be careful and was so culture-shocked meeting Crowley and Pauline that he needed 15 years to recover.