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tojivu · 11 months

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# OFFICE HOURS ‣ GOJO SATORU

✰ — author’s note i feel so guilty bc gojo is literally the only character i write for LOL anyway this is an old draft from months ago. idk why this is so long im so horrendously down bad for this fucking snowman.

✰ — cw / tags arrogant ceo!gojo x secretary f!reader, sfw, not rly enemies to lovers bc gojo has fat feelings, gojo satoru being a billionaire playboy

✰ — playing death & taxes by daniel caesar.

✰ — word count ~3k LOL

nothing about gojo satoru really strikes you as the serious type.

even in a professional environment, your boss always has a carefree demeanour. his laugh is so nauseatingly loud that you can hear it from outside the office, and you wonder how someone as busy as him manages through his day; much less with a positive attitude. you take one look at his schedule, and you want to vomit with the way you hardly see any gaps between appointments.

you suppose you could learn that from him. it's his only good quality.

you admit that he's likeable, on surface level. there's a reason why you detest him, though: as his closest colleague, you know him way more than you would prefer. most people would think such a well to do man like satoru would have a wife by his side, but that's unfortunately not the case. you almost feel more miserable than him—because now you're forced to be the listening ear and comforting hand at his beck and call.

you think he'd be just fine if he was just a little more humble. he has a nice face. it's his fault for being so stuck up. you know how many women ask him out—painfully aware, actually.

'they just aren't suited to my taste,' he would say to you. 'i need someone that makes me feel alive.'

one time, gojo even asked you to bail him out of a date—something about the way she held her fork and knife disturbed him, and you were expected to show up at the restaurant and act as if there was an emergency.

'i'm so sorry, sweetheart. i have to go, duty calls.' his disgustingly charming tone made you want to slap him then and there.

she called him again the following week, and he completely forgot who she was. he didn't even save her number.

the sheer number of people asking him out had stroked his ego so hard that gojo firmly believes no woman is deserving enough. he rambles on and on to you about how snobby some of them seem, and it takes everything in you to bite your tongue when he does. 'takes one to know one,' you would say, if not for your job at stake.

you think gojo satoru is full of himself. you are a strong believer of that. a witness, as well—it's not like he didn't try his way with you, too. unlike the women he ranted about, you turned him down every single time.

it's been a long while since any of that has happened, though. the most recent ordeal was months ago, but that didn't inherently mean that people stopped asking him out: it just meant that he was rejecting every single offer.

it's a thursday morning when you find yourself eating a sandwich you purchased on the way to work, at your desk—wondering when the big boss will finally arrive. the clock read 9 a.m., and you're expecting an extravagant "good morning!" to surprise you any moment now.

just then, you notice mr. conceited walk in: except something is different. he has no stride in his step. there was no good morning. there was no playful teasing directed at you as he walked past your desk and into his office, not that you were complaining—it was just strange.

you stand up, a mouthful of your sandwich still being chewed. you take a big sip of water and fix your skirt and blouse, making sure your hair is presentable—before swiftly making your way into his office.

──────

"i cannot believe this." he mumbles. you're standing in front of his desk, but he's not facing your direction.

gojo's chair is turned to the giant window that overlooks the business district, and he's gazing out of it thoughtfully. you think this is the cheesiest thing you've seen him do.

you can see how disheveled his hair was, even from where you were standing. you don't want to irritate him further, in case teasing you was still on his to-do list that day.

"what is it, mr. gojo?"

he swivels his chair around, and he is a mess—just what could have he been up to?

"i woke up late today."

"you're the boss, mr. gojo. you can come in any time you want—"

"not the point." he interrupts you. "i forgot my lunch. i was in the car, with the driver, on the way here already. . . and then i realised i left my donuts at home."

gojo's face is absolutely distraught. he looks like he's gone through a divorce and had his house set on fire with how he stands up dramatically—his hands now on his desk. you open your mouth to speak, but he shuts you up by talking again.

"i didn't want to inconvenience him. i'm too thoughtful, miss y/n."

you want to scoff, but you bite your tongue and hold back.

"so i got out of the car and ran back for it," gojo recounts. "i arrived home after the treacherous journey—only to discover that my donuts are gone."

you feign an expression of shock, just to humour him; he gives you an 'i know right' look, and continues his nonsensical story.

"the maids threw them away, miss y/n."

you can't help yourself: you let a small giggle slip through your lips. you quickly use your hand to cover your mouth, thinking of a quick excuse.

you cough. you pretend to, at least—but gojo satoru is not stupid.

no, maybe a little. though, not enough to be convinced of your terrible acting.

"nothing about this is funny."

you nod, looking down at the floor. "i apologise, mr. gojo, but it's just a few donuts. i'm sure someone in the office could fetch some for you."

"yes, i agree." he says, and you shift your gaze from the marble tiling of his office to his face. his hair is a mess, yes—but he still looks revoltingly handsome. his eyes are piercing through yours, and pieces of hair cover his face in just the right places.

you're staring a little too long and gojo finds his pulse quickening with the eye contact—but the spell he has you under is soon broken when he clears his throat.

you quickly look away, embarrassed that you were caught staring at your boss, by your boss.

"you'll pick some up for me, yeah?" his smooth and silky voice echoes through the empty space of his office.

you look at him again, and there's a gentle smile on his face; one you're all too familiar with.

you're aware of satoru's charismatic nature, his playboy-ish attitude, and all sorts of tricks he uses to make women fall head over heels for him. that didn't mean you were completely resistant to them, though—you find yourself playing with the sleeves of your blouse, your ears beginning to redden. "of course," is all you manage to say.

at least you were self-aware.

your mind was rational. should gojo satoru try to hit on you for the nth time—all it took was some self discipline to say no, and you'd like to think you had plenty.

you think the conversation is done with the way he doesn't speak another word, so you turn on your heels and make your way out of the office.

just as you touch the handle of the door, your boss adds: "i'll come with you."

you turn back to him, confused. you didn't need your boss babysitting you for a donut run, you knew his favourite flavours—it's all he ever insists on buying for lunch. "there's no need for that, mr. gojo."

satoru shakes his head in disapproval. "you don't even know my favourite flavours, miss y/n."

that was a blatant lie. he knew you knew. you were his personal donut grabber for a few months up until august, and it was only october. you suppose that it would've continued on if not for your complaints about the long lines in the morning.

nevertheless, you don't argue with him. gojo satoru was the type to get what he wants, when he wants, if he really wants it.

you smile at his disregard for the months you spent as his errand runner, and how idiotic the excuse he just used was. satoru knows he's lying through his teeth, and your smile makes him more nervous than your eye contact.

so nervous, in fact, that he takes back what he just said. "unless. . . you're fine by yourself."

you're surprised that gojo's confidence is dissipating, or that it could even fade at all. you can tell with the way he's avoiding your eye contact, exactly how you evaded his earlier—the red on the tips of his ears are much too obvious in contrast to his hair.

"i don't mind," you respond a bit too quicker than appropriate. "mr. gojo."

gojo curses himself mentally, thinking about how stupid he must sound. he's usually the one making people nervous, but he doesn't know why it's different when you look at him like that.

──────

the atmosphere is deafening in gojo's favourite bakery. you always knew he had a sweet tooth, so you expected his choice to be a spectacular one—and you weren't disappointed.

you had personally visited this bakeshop before, and the confectionery was truly as good as people made it out to be; it proved evident in the amount of people crammed into this small establishment. though, you can't tell if it was for the food or for your boss, with the way most pairs of eyes are turned in his direction.

you two spend a good five seconds looking at the menu before gojo states his order, which was exactly what you thought it would be—the lady at the cashier smiles a bit too long at satoru, before asking: "eating in?"

you want to open your mouth to say something, but he beats you to it. "of course."

it was still very well your work day. he (or maybe you and him, considering you helped him plan seventy percent of his appointments) had a meeting in 3 hours to prepare for. you think this donut adventure is already unnecessary enough—but here he is, suggesting to waste even more time eating the donuts in the bakery itself.

"we have a meeting in a bit, though. you could eat it in your office."

he looks at you with a confused look, as if he forgot that there was a meeting at all—because he did forget. gojo gasps, turning back to the lady and retracting his previous statement.

──────

gojo eats his donuts agonisingly slow and no conversation is initiated.

you're alternating between staring at both your laptops and the swirls on the wooden desk, unable to say anything because you didn't plan for such an occasion: an eating donuts with your admittedly handsome boss that makes you nervous while simultaneously planning for an important meeting occasion.

"miss y/n, you should try some."

you shift your eyes from the table to gojo, and he's holding a small piece of his donut to your lips: the powdered sugar practically calling your name.

"it's fine, i ate earlier," you decline his generous offer. "you should eat."

"i'm not asking you to eat all of them, miss y/n." he smiles at you. "just a bite. it's really good, y'know."

you sigh, reaching for his hand to take it from him—but he swiftly pulls it away and shakes his head. "open your mouth."

you feel the tips of your ears burning, blood rushing to your cheeks and you wonder how the girls he takes out manage themselves when he's like this—you've worked with him for so long, yet you can't recall a time when his gaze wouldn't make you shudder.

you think you'd stutter if you spoke one more word to him, so you save yourself from the embarrassment and bare with his request.

he feeds you the piece of sugar-coated donut, and you're sure you have powder on the corners of your lips with how it's width barely fits into your mouth.

you chew and swallow, feeling the residue of sugar on your skin.

"do you have any tissues?" you ask him, a serious expression plastered onto your face.

gojo tries to suppress the chuckle itching to escape his throat—the sugar on your lips and cheeks catch him off guard, and after a few seconds he can't help but let a small laugh slip. you stand up from your chair, scanning the room for any boxes of tissues you could lay your hands on.

he stands up as well, shaking his head—still giggling.

"it's not funny," you frown, and the smile on his face only grows wider—you're too cute for your own good when you sulk. "stop laughing."

you're not sure if you want to punch him or let him giggle to himself. for some reason, seeing you embarrassed is a great cause of joy to him. you can't bring yourself to tell him to shut up; you always imagine doing just that, it's strange how you couldn't muster the courage just when you needed it most.

"it's quite funny," gojo's laughter eventually calms down.

he leans closer to you and his right hand gently holds the side of your jaw—he uses his thumb to gently wipe the sugar off your cheek, and then your lips. "i got it."

his thumb stays on your bottom lip after dusting the sugar away. his pupils are locked onto the surface of your lips, which were glossy in the harsh light of his office: they looked so soft.

before long, they trail up your face until he's looking directly into your eyes: and this time you're not nervous, you don't look away, and your heart is completely calm.

satoru's fingers are easy on your skin. he handles you like fragile glass, as if he doesn't want to break you: and it's the same for the way he looks at you. gentle.

you're reluctant to speak because the way satoru has his thumb on your bottom lip sends shivers down your spine. you feel breathless.

you don't want this feeling to leave, not just yet.

a few seconds of tension pass. his hand moves back to your jaw, and your nervousness returns when gojo satoru leans his tall figure even closer to you; his head tilting ever so slightly.

it's a random thursday morning when you discover a few more good qualities gojo satoru possesses: his lips and his hands. maybe the way he kisses, too—it's slow and precise, unlike his attitude. he tastes sickeningly sweet and it makes you want to savour this moment even more.

you promised yourself you wouldn't fall victim to gojo satoru. yet, you just can't pull away: instead finding yourself slithering your arms around his neck and your chest pressing against his.

gojo's hands are wandering down to your waist and he's desperate to have you as close to him as possible, showing in the way he tries to close the already small gap between you two.

it takes only a fraction of a second for a small thought to form in your mind: just how many women have been in this position?

you quickly forget about that thought, though—you think it's pointless to regret it now, gojo satoru kisses you too good to be full of remorse.

gojo thinks he could stay like this: kiss you all morning, afternoon and pay you overtime if it meant he could be this close to you for just a bit longer.

there's hints of neediness in gojo's touch—as if he'd been waiting for this forever, wanting to relish it before it ends. his few seconds of bliss don’t last very long though, because you're soon pulling away—gasping for air.

he sighs mockingly, his hands sliding down from your waist to your hips. "can't last longer than 10 seconds, miss y/n?"

of course he would say some cocky shit like that—you'd forgotten for a minute that this was the same, arrogant mr. gojo you always knew, and no kiss (however heavenly) was going to change that.

"i'm sorry that i don't go on dates with every man that breathes."

gojo smirks at you after you say those words. "come on. just because i go on dates with people, doesn't mean i kiss them like this."

"sure you don't." your jealousy shows a bit too much in your reply, and he finds himself smiling even harder.

"is someone jealous?" he teases you again, rubbing circles with his thumb against the flesh of your hips.

you feel flustered, knowing that you're definitely done for now—he saw right through you. "nobody is jealous, mr. gojo."

"stop it with the formality. just call me satoru."

"it's still office hours. it's only polite."

gojo rolls his eyes, sighing in the process. you grin a little at him, knowing that this was the first thing you denied him of today—complying with the donuts and the kissing was already spoiling him enough.

"then i suppose there's only after work," there's his nauseatingly charming voice again—low and smooth. he knows exactly what he's doing to you, and you know it too. "i'm off after 6."

you think long and hard about whether you want to be mean and add this to the list of things you've declined to do for him. the ratio was starting to get really unbalanced—but you remember the way his hands touch you and how his lips greet yours so lovingly: and you think that there's no point turning back now.

"my boss doesn't let me off until after 8, though." you try to poke at his buttons—you put on a fake pout, knowing you’ll accept his invitation anyway—but gojo satoru is eternally patient when it came to things he sincerely desired.

"fuck your boss." he says, "he'll be fine with it."

you laugh at his response. you never thought you would see the day gojo curses at himself, after all, he's so self-obsessed: but you suppose you've seen—and tasted—parts of him that you never knew existed.

"then i'll see you at 6, mr. gojo."

what was the harm in discovering more?

230323 — i kinda hate this but.. wtv… anyway i couldn’t be bothered to proofread have my brainrot of gojo in a suit Mmmm yumyum

#jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x reader fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x reader fluff #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagine #jjk imagines #gojo imagine #gojo imagines #gojo x y/n #gojo x you

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biniminisblog · 1 year

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easy | lee minho oneshot

pairing: lee minho x reader

prompt: “did i do something? why are you suddenly acting so distant?” “just… because.” link to post here

genre: angst, fluff at the end, nonidol!au, kinda grumpy x sunshine, friends to lovers

word count: 1.6k

a/n: …idk what i wrote lmao. this is what happens when im in my missing minho hours. anw as always if you liked it pls reblog, comment, or send an ask and share your thoughts and feedback! also thank you to @dumplingsjinson for the prompt that inspired me to write this!

minho hates you. he hates you for making him fall in love with you. this wasn’t supposed to happen. this was all your fault. yes, your stupid smile and your stupid laugh and the way your eyes twinkle every time you look at him is the reason why he’s currently spiralling from his emotions.

despite his aloof attitude towards you, there was never a day where you failed to annoy him, even in the slightest. before, it was easy to just brush you off every time you try to get his attention. so easy to ignore the members whenever they talk about you. everything was easy back then. why couldn’t you just take the hint?

when you greet him enthusiastically so early in the morning, which he would usually just roll his eyes at, now makes his heart beat faster than it should have. and unlike before, his attention would instantly be diverted to the person who so much as just mentions your name.

he’s actually starting to think he likes spending more time with you, and not just as friends anymore. which is why he stopped hanging out with you. so when you suddenly appear before him outside of his apartment at eight pm on a friday, he knew he was fucked.

“hey…” you greeted him, and minho notices you slightly shiver from the cold. he gently grabs your arm and pulls you inside so you both don’t suffer from the harsh weather. after he closes the door, he turns to see that you were already sitting comfortably on his couch. another reason why he hates you is because of all the fond memories you both shared on that same damn couch. movie nights and cuddling were only some of the things he despised, recalling those memories where his heart fluttered the most.

“so, uhm, it’s been a while huh?” you lightly chuckle, but it was different to the usual joyful tone it had. now it seem more dejected. “you haven't been answering my calls lately, is there something wrong?”

he didn’t know how to answer that because yes something was wrong, but not in the way you think. he just settled with a simple shake of his head and plops down on the couch next to the one you were sitting on. it was hard not to notice the amount of space between the two of you, however the both of you don’t mention it.

“don’t worry about it, i was just busy so i couldn’t answer your calls.” to further prove his claim, he points to the copious amounts of paperwork stacked on top of each other on the coffee table. it was true that he was busy with work, but he always made time for you despite that. though he didn’t know that his feelings for you would be deeper than just a friend he would occasionally be annoyed at.

“minho, i’m not stupid. i know you’re ignoring me.” of course you’d catch on immediately, it was you after all.

“well if you knew that, then why are you here?” minho’s words come out a lot meaner than he expected, and he immediately regrets it once he sees the look of hurt flash in your eyes.

“sorry, it’s just that a lot has been going on lately and i—”

“did I do something? why are you suddenly acting so distant?” you cut him off, feeling frustrated at your friend’s lack of communication. you start to stand up from the couch to get closer to him, but minho was two steps ahead as he gets up first and heads to his kitchen. you follow him there and see that he took out a glass and poured himself some water to drink. you’re not sure why, but you think it’s just to prolong him from answering your question.

“minho please, i miss you! i miss hanging out with my friend, don’t you miss me too?” you plead, and minho’s facade breaks. his eyes soften and he puts the glass down so could walk closer to you. he stops right in front of you and moves his hand to caress your hair. you lean in to his touch, already missing the way his fingers would comb your hair soothingly. minho just smiles at your reaction before pulling away slowly.

“of course i miss you yn,”

“everything was fine so why are you doing this? why are you avoiding me?” yes, everything was fine and easy until you decided to mess with his heart. but you didn’t know that.

“just… because.” you scoff at his explanation, resisting the urge to smack him for not giving you a clear answer.

“because what minho? am i too annoying for you? do i talk too loudly? what is it minho!? i can’t take this any more, i thought we were friends—”

“and that’s exactly why!” you stop, and minho takes this as an opportunity to finally let it out.

“the reason why i stopped hanging out with you is because i don’t want to be friends anymore! don’t you see yn? i like you! hell, i’m in love with you! but i don’t want to be because i know you don't feel the same way. i mean, why would you? all i do is just say mean things to you.” minho breathes out a sigh and watches as you take in all the words he just said. however, he was too scared of your rejection, so he moved past you and headed towards the living room. you were still too stunned to move so you stay rooted in the kitchen.

“please just forget everything i just told you and i promise i won't ignore you anymore.” minho almost raps as he maneuvers his way towards the coffee table and he distracts himself by arranging his paperwork. some part of him wants you to just accept that and go home, but the other, more hopeful side, wishes for you not to forget and return his feelings too.

when you arrive at the living room, you see minho crouched down beside the coffee table. you quickly grab his arm, startling him from the sudden contact. you pull him up and give him time to regain his balance before giving your side.

“what if i don’t wanna forget?” minho only looks confused, so you elaborate further. “what if i don’t wanna forget that you like me? what if i like you too, have you ever considered that?”

you almost laugh at the comedic look on minho’s face as his eyes suddenly widen in shock. you don’t, instead you grab his chin and pull him down towards you. your lips touched and it was still for a moment before he finally kissed you back. only then do you both pull away from lack of oxygen. your arms wrap around his neck to pull him closer and you rest your forehead against each other’s.

“so… does this mean we’re dating now?”

“do friends go around kissing each other like that?” you quirk an eyebrow and minho shakes his head at your sarcasm. it seems like he’s finally rubbing off on you.

“no they don’t.”

“good, ‘cause i don’t want you kissing your friends like that.” you both laugh and minho lifts you off the ground to spin you around, causing you to squeal in surprise.

“for the record, i don’t want you kissing your friends like that either.” after putting you down, minho gives you his signature smirk before kissing you once more and wrapping you up in a hug.

“and to answer your question, i’m in love with you too. so yes, we are dating.” you can’t stop grinning as minho continues to hug you, but he abruptly pulls away, causing you to look at him with confusion written in your features. he suddenly seems anxious, but he collects himself and takes a deep breath before talking.

“i’m just going to have to warn you that i may not be the best boyfriend in the world. i get moody a lot and say a lot of sarcastic things that may come off as rude. there are also times where i—“ he stops rambling after he hears laughter coming from you. he gives you a look that resembles an offended cat and you all but acknowledge it as you wipe away the tear that came out of your eye.

you cradle minho’s face with both of your hands, and he looks at you with such pureness in his big eyes that you can’t help but fall in love with him more.

“minho, i already know that you are all of those things, yet i still stuck around because i love you despite all of that, and i will continue to do so until you run out of snarky things to say,” you tease, and it gets a small smile from him.

“you’re right. if you were tired of me, you would’ve already dropped me while we were still friends.” minho jokes and you hum in response, giving him a peck to his cheek. you intertwine your fingers with his and with your other hand, run your fingers through his hair. “yes now stop worrying about that, you still owe me all the movie nights we missed because you’re an idiot.”

minho only replies with a laugh, silently agreeing that he is indeed an idiot. it surprises him how easily you break him free of his worries. and that despite everything that just happened, you still manage to crack his walls. but he guesses that’s how love works, it makes everything so much easier.

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sohnric · 11 months

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paris – l. juyeon

pairing: lee juyeon x fem! reader

genre: exchange student! juyeon in paris (ft. his erasmus friends). friends to ???, angst, fluff. actually, the genre is longing. halloween party au but the halloween part plays like,, 0 part in the fic, basically. idk the paris pics did something to me he is so european coded. paris by the 1975 without the drugs in a fic, essentially

warnings: cheating from yn's side, swearing, alcohol, smoking. the reader is canonically french im sorry 💀

word count: 6k

There’s quite a few reasons why Juyeon never told his friends from home about you- the girl he met on his student exchange trip. Some were the cause of Juyeon’s insecurities in himself, some the cause of your relationship status, all the cause of his unrequited love and the way you broke his heart, making Juyeon’s whole memory of Paris a bit hazy and bittersweet and the leave, paradoxically, that much harder. But still– and maybe you’re the reason for it– oh, how he’d love to go to Paris again.

a/n: do NOT cancel me for being a casual matty healy enjoyer i am a 2014 tumblr girlie at heart

“And where are my gifts? Where are the souvenirs?” Hyunjae calls after the boy that’s still kind of jet lagged from the flight (even though it’s been 3 days since his landing and he slept the whole day after his brother picked him up from the airport), the latter looking at him with tired eyes.

“That’s all you want from me after not seeing me for 6 months?”

“Yes. Where’s my baguette?” Hyunjae glares, making the younger boy whine at the request.

“I didn’t know you wanted a hard rock baguette from me. If I had known, I would’ve taken one with me and smashed it against your head the moment I arrived here.”

“Well, if it’s authentic,” Hyunjae shrugs, laughing. “I’m just joking… I know we’ve been calling and texting like, every other day, but let me ask again. How was it?”

Juyeon finally smiles at his friend’s question. This is what one expects after coming home from studying abroad for 10 months– not a souvenir request. And trust me, Juyeon did bring gifts, out of the warmth of his own heart, but after being asked for them, he kind of doesn’t want to play Santa anymore. Kind of like when you decide to wash the dishes, but your mum tells you to do it at the same time of your decision– the motivation fades away the mere second you’re requested to do the thing.

“Well, it was good,” he shrugs, “it was… something,” Juyeon says– because how does one fit 10 months of their life into a few sentences without stammering– and before he gets a chance to say anything, Hyunjae catches him off guard with another inquiry.

“Is it true, by the way? Are European girls really prettier?” he grins, wiggling his eyebrows at the boy as if to suggest something– but all it does is make Juyeon shrug, acting not really bothered with the question.

“Dunno,” he hums, “I think it’s equal to here.”

“So you’re telling me you went 10 months without getting laid in France?” Hyunjae gasps, making Juyeon furrow his brows in utter disbelief.

“When did I say that? Or anything that would even suggest that?”

Now, this was a trap. Juyeon is too gullible. See, Juyeon was pretty transparent with everything during his calls with Hyunjae back when he was in Paris. He told his friends back home all about the European food, the rock-hard french baguettes, the weird looks and annoyed sighs he got when speaking English to the clarks in the shops, the cold showers in his accommodation and the pretty park in front of his university building. They also know all about his friends from Paris– the international students he met in his course like Shotaro from Japan, Bence from Hungary and Marco from Italy– but when the question of girls came around, specifically in the romantic light of things, Juyeon went awfully quiet. You can’t blame Hyunjae for getting into suspicions.

“So you did?” Hyunjae gasps, grasping at the straws.

Juyeon sighs, reaching for his bag. His awfully big hand slips inside of the black backpack, fingers touching various things before he brings out a bunch of gifts: a keychain with the Eiffel tower, some magnets, postcards, a fashionable beret he found in one of the souvenir stores but never saw anyone actually wear in the whole 10 months in the streets of Paris, some perfume and high quality chocolate. Hyunjae’s eyes go wide, making satisfaction swim through Juyeon’s veins at the sight– he managed to deflect the attack.

Sometimes, having materialistic friends is a plus.

As he watches Hyunjae touch all the things on the table, fingers trailing over metal and the shiny wrapping of the dark chocolate with an acknowledging nod, Juyeon takes out another thing out of his bag– his digital camera that he brought along for the ride. He sent his friends a lot of pictures when he was in Paris, and he also posted quite a few on Instagram for everyone to see, but the camera held more memories and more moments than anyone’s ever seen before– it’s a source of treasure for himself as well, but he figures it wouldn’t hurt to share a glimpse with his best friend.

“Wanna see? I took tons of pictures, but you can look through only the interesting ones, if you want to,” Juyeon hums, offering the camera to the male, the display already shining at him from the gallery, small icons of all pictures on the SD card in a 3x3 row on the small thing.

A few pictures of the town are on preview right now, but if you scroll through the gallery, moments of his friend Marco’s birthday party that his friends threw for him, or the snapshots of his friend’s faces come into sight– Juyeon’s sure Hyunjae’s eager to see how all of the people he’s been talking to him about look like.

Hyunjae nods, taking the camera from him and squinting at the little icons. His fingers move along the touch screen and scroll through the gallery, eyes zooming on the interesting ones and grinning as he shows them to Juyeon, awaiting the backstory of a certain image.

Everything goes well, until Hyunjae gets to the latest pictures on the SD card– well, apart from the ones Juyeon took from the window on his flight home. And Juyeon really doesn’t know what he was thinking, but hey– sometimes he doesn’t think things through as much as he should– and that’s why when a particular photo comes into his best friend’s sight, turning the camera towards Juyeon with a shiteating grin on his face, the question ‘Who’s that?’ makes the poor boy a bit shaken.

His tall figure, standing alongside someone shorter– you, in your vampire costume, fake blood running down the side of your mouth, a hand thrown over his shoulders and your side pressed into his a bit too close as he stares down onto you with an obviously star-struck face, suit covering his body in a poor attempt at Joker’s costume– the moment stares back at him like a haunted memory.

He clears his throat. “That’s… that’s just Y/N.”

Hyunjae hums, having a staring contest with the picture on the screen. The date on the bottom reads 31/10/23, the last day of Juyeon’s stay before he had to go home. “How come I’ve never heard about Y/N?”

“There wasn’t much to say, I guess,” Juyeon shrugs, taking a sip from the bottle of beer on the table.

“Sure…” Hyunjae doubtingly nods, scrunching up his nose in disbelief.

“I’m serious. She’s just a friend I met there,” Juyeon offers, licking his lips in nerves.

And it’s the truth– you were just a friend and there really wasn’t much to say about you two– so why does Juyeon’s heart hurt a bit as he recognizes the events of the night as if it happened yesterday? Why does he feel nostalgic, maybe a little bitter about the way you two left off?

Hyunjae doesn’t know, but there’s quite a few reasons why he never heard about you in the first place. Some were the cause of Juyeon’s insecurities in himself, some the cause of your relationship status, all the cause of his unrequited love and the way you broke his heart, making the whole memory of Paris a bit hazy and bittersweet and the leave, paradoxically, that much harder.

But still– and maybe you’re the reason for it–

oh, how he’d love to go to Paris again.

31/10/2023

The buzzing of the room makes Juyeon’s already thumping head ache in its crevices, the smell of alcohol in the breath of everyone talking to him only making his stomach twist and turn with acid. He’s had his fair amount of drinks himself, but there is a very faint line between the amount that’s just enough to keep him going through the night and the amount that makes him puke and have a two-week hangover, and with the flight home he has to take tomorrow afternoon, he doesn’t think drinking more would be a good idea.

“Don’t break it!” Juyeon tiredly hurries out as he sees his friend Marco handle his camera, the device almost falling out of the foreign friend’s hands.

“I won’t! Hold on, let me just–” the Italian mutters, the coating of vodka shots and the cheap red wine (made to look like blood to keep things festive) making his words slur together as he speaks.

Juyeon reaches towards his drunk friend (while also questioning how he’s going to take a plane back to Italy tomorrow in a very hungover state) and tries to pray the prized possession out of his hands, but comes to a fail as the tall man waves him off with a theatral arm wave, shoving the poor boy towards the white wall and putting the camera up against his own face. “I’ll take your picture! So you can– you only take pictures of us, Juyo,” he rambles on, “I’ll take your picture so you can show it at home to your friends!” Marco grins, having Juyeon aimlessly sigh and stretch out his lips into a fake smile, waiting for his friend to take the picture so he can get his camera back to safety.

“Me too! Me too!” he suddenly hears from somewhere to his right, and before he has the chance to decipher the owner of the female voice, a weight on his shoulder tells him you just jumped at his side– almost topping him over and into the spooky decorations to his right– as you giggle into his ear. “Have it?”

“Aaaalmost!” Marco stretches out as he squints at the camera– and in the spare few seconds before the shutter goes off, Juyeon allows himself to stare down at your figure glued to his side. You’re wearing a dark lipstick on your smile, a drip of fake blood rolling down the side of your mouth. There’s a corset top enveloping your middle and a flowy black skirt only pulling the whole look together even with the absence of fangs– and while you don’t suck out his blood, Lee Juyeon can physically feel how you sucked out all oxygen out of his lungs in your sexy vampire costume.

He’s seen you around tonight, but he never got the courage to walk up to you. Something about this being his last night in Paris might be the reason why.

He was simply too bummed out about how things between you and him never went further than fits of laughter in class as you helped him with his French, or friendly hugs when you bid him goodbye at the corner of his street. Maybe it was his own fault for falling for someone so out of his reach. He always knew his stay in France was temporary– hell, he was an exchange student, he was aware of what he was getting himself into– but still, he couldn’t help but recognize the familiar warmth in his stomach whenever you were around and the strange racing of his heart whenever you were close enough for him to smell your shampoo for what it was. He was completely, utterly smitten with you– a french local that would be erased out of his lifestyle as soon as he lands back home in Korea.

The shutter of the camera is all it takes to break his train of thought, making him snap his head back to his Italian friend. A sigh of relief is heard in the room as Juyeon finally reunites with his digital camera (he was surprised to see Marco let go of it so easily), and before he has the chance to think of a conversation topic to indulge in with you, you have his words catching in his throat at your own pace of speech.

“Have you been here for long?” you ask, flattering your eyelashes at him. Juyeon gasps before he presses his lips together into a tight line, shrugging.

“A bit.”

“Why haven’t you said hi?” you frown. “You said it’s your last night! You wouldn’t leave without a goodbye, would you?” you shake your head at him, playfully poking his shoulder with your pointer finger.

He was going to. Not anymore, he guesses.

“No,” he disagrees instead, “I was gonna look for you when it was my turn to leave,” he quickly comes up with an explanation, having your features relax as a warm smile overtakes your pretty features again.

Even with your face all bloody and your eyes having dark circles under them from eyeshadow (and mascara that weared off a little, which you were completely unaware of), Juyeon finds you absolutely, utterly and fascinatingly beautiful. He’s glad no one is able to read his inner monologue– or else he’d be the one with blood running down the side of his face. If the punch to seal the cut would be coming from you or your boyfriend, he’s not quite sure.

Maybe both. The main thing is, you’re taken and his feelings aren’t reciprocated.

Which is why his silly crush on you that maybe, just maybe, turned into something more meaningful was that much damaging to his poor soul.

Because Juyeon swears he never loved anyone before, but after spending the night with you drinking cheap wine in his empty dorm room on his birthday completely alone– since it fell on a Sunday this year and he didn’t have that many friends yet to celebrate with, only having spending 2 weeks in Paris at the time– during which you taught him French swear words and kissed his cheek goodbye (which he thought may be a cultural thing, although he wasn’t sure); after all of this, he felt like you’re the person he’ll think of when someone asks him about his first love when he's old.

And even if he had the balls to do anything about it (which he didn’t), he simply couldn’t. You were out of reach.

“You’d better,” you hum, “or else I’d hitchhike a plane and come over to Korea just to kick your ass.”

“You can’t hitchhike a plane, you weirdo.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Of course I can. Watch me.”

Juyeon finds himself grinning at the adorable determination in your voice. It makes him feel a certain type of way that he knows he shouldn’t– but after spending 10 months with the feelings (5 of which you were single, 5 of which you’ve spent dating your boyfriend) and absorbing the idea of leaving you and everything behind tomorrow, Juyeon no longer feels as guilty about the act of loving you. Not anymore– not tonight.

“I like your costume,” Juyeon comments, pointing to the attire you’ve dressed yourself in.

“Really?” your eyes light up. “Look, I even wore the bow my idiot of a boyfriend said looks tacky,” you say, making a little twirl for the man. Your skirt flows nicely in the air and you stumble a bit due to the alcohol in your system, but when Juyeon catches you by your forearms and steadies you, there’s a content smile sitting on your lips despite your previous sentence.

“It looks pretty on you,” Juyeon hums, nodding. “It’s not tacky at all.”

“I always knew you had more taste than him,” you sigh dramatically, making Juyeon question your actions.

Oh?

“Anyways, I like your costume as well,” you comment.

“Thanks,” he says, although his half-assed attempt at a Joker’s costume wasn’t anywhere near your level of preciseness, “Shotaro was supposed to go as Harley to match with me, but he pulled out of it at the last minute,” Juyeon pouts.

“Gosh! That would’ve been fucking amazing,” you laugh, swatting your friend in the arm playfully– the way you always do when you laugh– but as you come down from it, there’s a bitter tone in your voice. “I asked my boyfriend to wear a couple’s costume too, but he said all my costume ideas were lame.”

“Y/N–” Juyeon starts, wanting to speak up about the matter very obviously present in the conversation, wanting to console you, say anything, but you cut him off again– your courtesy– with a shrug and a grin on your face made to mask your true emotions (didn't work. Juyeon knows you too well).

“It’s okay. That’s why I dressed up as a slutty vampire just to spite him,” you say.

“What’s his costume?” Juyeon asks.

“Not sure. I think he just bought the Scream mask, or something,” you mutter, rolling your eyes at the male.

And now, Juyeon was never big on gossip. But if gossiping meant poking fun at your boyfriend, the last night before his plane back home takes off is not the time he’s passing on a snarky comment. “Lame.”

“I’m so glad we are on the same page, Juyo.”

His heart leaps at the nickname– a lot of people call him that, but the tone you say it in, the sweet melody of your voice as you throw it at him like a promise (of everything and nothing at all– you’re fond of him, but never fond enough), only you have this effect on him when you call him that. He wishes he had you saying his name recorded, documented somewhere on his phone, your accent and all, so he could hear you say it when he foolishly misses you in the middle of the night, like he knows he will when he lays awake at home, in his tiny, silent room.

“Do you want to get out for a bit? It’s getting too hot in here,” you say as you wave yourself, hoping to cool off, but failing miserably with the heat created from the bodies swimming through the house, and Juyeon finds himself nodding at your question.

Your feet drag you outside of the house, the cold breeze instantly cooling down your sweaty bodies. You two stand on the front porch together, watching the world around you revolve in a fast, yet slow manner– there are couples making out in the corner of the yard, one of them pressed up against the tree, and friends chasing each other down in zombie costumes, passing by bottles of alcohol between each other.

Juyeon hears you hum, making him turn his head towards you and see you offering a cigarette to him. He'd never been much of a smoker before, but Europe taught him to never turn down a cigarette when offered, and so he only takes out one out of the pack, watching you mirror his movements. You fish for your lighter in your bra (and Juyeon finds himself too mesmerized to look away during the action), clicking it and putting the flame against the cigarette trapped between his lips.

He doesn’t know what it is about the action that makes his eyes hooded as he watches you– noticing the forgotten speck of glitter from some step of your makeup routine under your eye, making him want to swipe his thumb over it and take it off for you– but he can’t get his gaze off you as he breaths in the smoke, his head going more fuzzy than it has been only a few minutes prior.

When Juyeon’s cigarette is lit, you move to light your own, all while the male watches you with almost a dreamy look on his face. Somehow, he’s glad no one’s watching you. He doesn’t think he would be able to conceal his feelings for you tonight.

“Are you gonna miss this?” you suddenly ask, looking up at him from his right.

You? Absolutely.

“I think so,” he nods, “it’s a lot different to home, but I made a lot of memories here.”

He watches a hint of smile spreading over your features. “Do you remember when you accidentally told our professor you were horny instead of excited?” you laugh.

“Oh, shut up,” Juyeon laughs at the memory. His French never really got to a perfect level– that’s why most of you settled on speaking English between each other– but the first few weeks were a living hell of a language barrier for Lee Juyeon. “The more concerning part is that this is what made you approach me,” he notes.

“Well, I recognised that you needed help, and I was willing to provide it,” you say, taking a drag out of the cigarette and blowing the smoke into his face.

Juyeon looks at you through the smoke cloud, snickering. “I’m kinda grateful, though. You were the first friend I made here.”

You look at him with a tender look– something so full of care Juyeon swears he feels his stomach doing somersaults– before you press your lips into a solemn smile. “Well, I’m honored, Juyeon Lee,” you drag out in a posh accent, making the boy break out into a laugh.

He takes another drag off the cigarette, inviting the nicotine into his system. Mixed with the alcohol in his veins and your aura surrounding him, he almost feels on cloud 9, like he’s flowing in space and he can’t get down. He watches as you lean over the railing of the porch, forearms meeting with the metal in a set of goosebumps. Breeze flies through the air, making your barely-clothed figure shiver.

He knows he probably shouldn’t. Your boyfriend is somewhere inside, and although you two are seemingly in a weird sort of fight, it’s not his place to act as a gentleman.

Still, Juyeon finds he has nothing to lose. He shrugs off the suit jacket he’s been wearing and drapes it over your shoulders wordlessly, noticing the way you look back at him over your shoulder with a soft smile on your lips.

A comforting silence overtakes you two. Juyeon takes the last drag off the cigarette and puts it out on the iron railing, enjoying the effect your sheer presence has on him. The music coming out of inside is only a mere background noise now, providing him an occasional distraction to the buzzing of his own thoughts.

“Say, Juyo,” you start, “do you know where Dorothy lives?” you ask.

Juyeon hums in disagreement. “Don’t think I do. Why?”

“I’m sleeping over at hers tonight,” you mumble, mentioning your best friend– the girl Juyeon’s met plenty of times in the 10 months of knowing you. “I was supposed to stay at Andre’s, but I’m not talking to him right now.”

“Oh,” is all Juyeon says. The mention of your boyfriend always throws him off the track a little.

“I dunno where Dorothy went, but I’m getting kind of sleepy.”

“Why can’t you just go home?” he asks.

“Juyo,” you laugh, “my parents would kill me if I got home tipsy and smelling like cigarette smoke. Don’t you know how they are?” you joke, shaking your head in disbelief.

He doesn’t. He kind of wishes he had the chance to know, though– because if he knew your parents, maybe it would imply something. Signify something more.

“Do you want me to walk you to Dorothy’s?”

“Yeah,” you nod, lids heavy. Juyeon doesn’t know what time it is, but the last time he checked, it was well past midnight– he doesn’t think he’d stay around much longer himself.

“Okay,” he nods, watching as you slowly peel yourself off the railing and wear his suit jacket properly, the fabric drowning you, but keeping you warm. The sight, the sentiment of it, makes Juyeon’s hands shake and his throat go dry. You’re so close, yet so out of his reach.

Your feet are slow as you march towards the direction of your best friend’s house. Juyeon doesn’t know how far it is, but he wishes for you to take the long way home– if those are the last moments he has with you, he wants to drag the evening out the best he can.

The night is quiet. The only thing ringing in your ears is the sound of your own footsteps, when Juyeon surprises himself with the question that noisily cuts out of his throat.

“Why don’t you break up with him?” he asks.

He expects you to go mad at the question– you were known to have quite the fierce temper. You and Andre have had a few problems in the past: he was known to be reckless with his snarky comments that somehow hurt your pride, his nasty behavior when he got drunk, and the not-so-happy opinion your parents had of him. You were known to blow things out of proportion, screaming, crying and making a scene whenever you could if you thought it was appropriate, known to talk about your conflicts with your friends and digging out opinions out of them on the matter.

Juyeon always made sure to give you lukewarm arguments whenever you asked him about your boyfriend. Never too heated to make himself seem suspicious. Your relationship was none of his business.

Again– tonight, though, he has nothing to lose.

“I dunno,” you shrug, your steps a little uneven on the pavement, “it’s… a matter of habit, maybe? It’s weird,” you say.

The explanation gives Juyeon just about nothing. A matter of habit? Is it a habit to stay with someone? Was there not more needed for a relationship?

Juyeon doesn’t find it in him to reply. Instead, he lets you talk.

“I think I might love him, or something. I’m not really sure…” you mumble, the sentences breaking Juyeon’s heart a little by little, shattering it right in front of you on the pavement, “because if I didn’t, why else would I put up with all of this?” you ask, not really expecting an answer.

“All the shaming, the spiteful remarks. The pettiness, the silent treatment… tell me, Juyo, do I have any dignity?” you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Y/N…”

The snicker that escapes out of you quickly turns bitter. Your body grows impossibly closer to his, your hands sneaking around his bicep. You walk with linked arms, your head falling to his shoulder. “I don’t think I really love him, though,” you suddenly rebuttal, “‘cause like… I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t tell my grandkids about Andre, y’know? I think that’s the way you know. If you can imagine thinking so fondly about someone that you… that you’d mention them even in 50 years, ‘cause the memories still feel fresh and you’re delighted you once knew them, then…” you trail off, voice fading.

“Do you know what I mean?” you hum, pouting.

He does know.

“Sorry, I’m rambling–”

“No, I get you,” he reassures you, nodding to himself.

“You always do,” you sigh, breaking Juyeon’s heart into a million pieces, “anyways, with that being said… I think I’m with him only because breaking up is too much of a hassle. And, I think I like the attention,” you splutter, laughing at yourself, “that’s… so desperate of me, I know. I’m starting to doubt if it’s even worth it.”

“He’s not,” Juyeon finds himself saying as you two cross the corner.

“You’re only saying that as my friend.”

“No, I’m saying that as your– as someone who cares…?” he stutters, mentally kicking himself for sounding so readable. Surely, you must’ve already noticed. If not from his current statement, then from the way he looked at you the whole night. You are a smart girl– you were always quick to point out the men that would soon hit on you when you were at the club. You have a good eye when it comes to others.

You only laugh, though. Oh, how Juyeon loves the sound.

“Thank you,” you hum.

You two fall silent for a while. Juyeon finds himself enjoying it. It feels comfortable– to walk with you through the emptied Paris, accompanied by the yellow lampposts and soulless streets. Only you two, your linked arms and his suit jacket around your shoulders.

“We’re at Dorothy’s,” you muse when your steps come to a halt, gesturing towards the silent, dark house on the other side of the street, “I think she’s not home yet, though. Her light would be on.”

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Juyeon looks from the house and back at you, then back at the seemingly empty house again. “And now what?”

“I have to wait for her,” you shrug, “will you… keep me company?”

You don’t even have to ask. He’d always keep you company.

“Well, I’m not just gonna let you stand alone in the street in the middle of the night, am I?” he playfully shakes his head in disbelief, but secretly enjoys the fact that he has more time with you before you have to pay each other goodbye.

“Always knew you were a gentleman.”

“Pretty sure that was my middle name,” he notes.

“I thought you said that was ‘handsome’ once?”

“I have two,” he laughs.

“Is that possible?” you tease.

“Of course! Look it up,” he says, turning to you as he talks. “My name’s actually Lee Handsome Gentleman Juyeon, it’s on my ID and everything,” he jokes, watching as your eyes turn into moon crescents and your throat lets out a fit of amused giggles.

Another playful punch to his shoulder. A happy sigh. A shake of your head, full of disbelief.

“Damn, Juyo. I’ll miss you like crazy, you know?” you suddenly utter, making the boy’s heart fall down into his stomach. The implication of your words sounds a lot like a goodbye, and although he was aware of the fact that he was leaving before, he doesn’t think he really let the reality down on him until now.

This time tomorrow, there will be no Paris. No Marco. No Shotaro. No Bence. No French locals, no bagels for breakfast, no shitty ass dorm room.

No you.

“I’ll miss you more,” he says. He thinks he’s right.

You’ll miss him like a friend. He’ll miss you like his first love.

You stare at him for a heartbeat. One, two– before you latch onto him, much like when you first met tonight. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him close, head resting on his shoulder only when you notice his hands wrapping around your middle. Breathing in your scent, Juyeon focuses very hard to keep his heart rate in check– it’s hard to not falter under your touch when your nose buries itself into his neck, cold skin nuzzling into his hot one, hands squeezing him tighter.

Juyeon doesn’t think you’ve ever hugged him like this before.

And now, you won’t ever again.

You break away from him only enough to still be in his hold, your forehead resting against his. The new intimacy between the two of you makes him gulp, eyes focused into yours– watching the silver and gold swirl around your irises, counting your eyelashes. Noticing the faint mole on the top of your nose bridge.

Foolishly letting his eyes dip lower. Memorizing the shape of your lips with his gaze. Taking in a shaky breath when he feels your fingers playing with the hair on his nape.

“Will you tell your grandkids about Paris?” you ask, voice barely louder than a whisper. Juyeon would almost think you’re suggesting something with your question, but when you speak up again, the suspicion is proved correct. “Will you tell them about me?”

The boy drags his eyes up back to yours. He examines the intention. He finalizes that he has nothing left to lose.

Tomorrow, this will all be a memory. A moment out of his reach– much like you, all this time. A moment of time he experienced and won’t ever get back.

“I will,” he nods, swallowing. “Will you?”

You smile at the boy, the curve of your lips capturing his attention again. If anyone asked, he’d tell them it’s pure biology– the way his eyes zoomed in on your mouth the moment your expression changed. That’s how attention fluctuates– he learned about it in class somewhere, he’s fairly certain.

Why he’s unable to look back into your eyes after the question is a matter of something else, though.

“I think I might,” you breathe out.

There’s buzzing in his fingertips as he relishes the moment. The sentiment makes his knees weak, his brain fuzzy, his sight blurry and a little hazed. When he finally catches a glimpse of your gaze, he finds it glued to his mouth.

He could take it as an invitation.

He won’t, though.

“Kiss me?” you ask, whispering.

He shakes his head in disapproval. “I can’t.”

Not when you’re taken. Not when he’s aware. Not when he knows you might regret this in the morning.

“Can I kiss you, then?” you ask.

That, however, is a whole other situation.

You asked to. You're making the first step. He doesn't have to feel guilty– who cares whether either of you might regret this decision tomorrow.

A simple nod–

that’s all it takes before you lock your lips with his. Your mouths move against each other with a passion he’s contained for his whole stay. You taste like vodka and orange juice, the slickness of your lip gloss making Juyeon’s lips slide against yours with more ease. He kisses you like you’d kiss your first love– with everything in him, with everything he is.

He kisses you in a way that shows he wants to remember this forever. In a way that makes you lean even closer, pressing up firmly against him as you angle your head to make the kiss deeper. One of your hands moves from behind his head to twist itself deeper into his hair, tugging a little at the root to make the boy gasp under your actions. That has you inviting your tongue into his mouth, eager to taste him, to explore.

Juyeon doesn’t think he’s ever been kissed like this. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so vulnerable, so open while kissing someone. This is him with his heart on a plate, naked and ready to be stabbed, squished by the weight of circumstances breathing onto his back.

His cold fingers move along your sides. Your hands settle on his shoulders to steady yourself, head pulling away to gasp for oxygen.

You look so pretty when he opens his eyes. Lipstick smudged and eyes blown out, hair a little messy from the October wind. He’s like an addict presented with his favorite drug– he can’t get enough, he can’t resist as he chases after you, leaving kisses along your jaw and the corner of your mouth, where the blood is, slowly meeting your lips again in another lock.

Everything else disappears. In this moment, there’s just you, you, you…

No flights. No weight of his own conscience. No boyfriends, no unsaid feelings.

No regret.

And Juyeon thought he had nothing to lose, but suddenly, with you in his arms, he feels as if he’s being stripped of everything he never even had, only got the glimpse of last minute, a few hours before he’s gone.

You lean away again. Juyeon watches you with big eyes. A smile appears on your face as you move a finger up to his face, cleaning up the side of his mouth off the dark lipstick you’ve imprinted on him. He feels fragile under your touch. One bad move and he breaks, falls apart under you.

“You have to come back to visit one day,” you whisper, cradling the side of his face.

Juyeon nods. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get the chance.

But as you stand on your tippy toes and press a kiss to his forehead, making a million different fireworks erupt in his stomach, he doesn’t let himself think of that (im)possibility. He watches as you smile at him, locking your eyes in a gaze tender and soft, yet electrifying, holding something special.

Before you take off to meet your best friend walking up the other side of the street, you hug him one last time and whisper into his ear.

“Goodbye, Juyo.”

Seeing as you lock your arms with Dorothy, walking up into the silent house and never looking back, Juyeon lets himself feel the last hint of longing for someone he always knew would never be his. And it’s strange, because he hasn’t even left yet,

but oh, how he’d love to go to Paris again.

#deoboyznet #the boyz #juyeon #lee juyeon #tbz #the boyz x reader #the boyz angst #the boyz fluff #juyeon x reader #juyeon fluff #juyeon angst #lee juyeon x reader #lee juyeon angst #lee juyeon fluff #tbz x reader #tbz fluff #tbz angst #juyeon scenario #juyeon fic

344 notes · View notes

purerae · 11 months

Note

Hey, Love your fics! Can you do a SFW (or NSFW if you’re feeling up to it) alphabet about the playboy yandere (or the jock)?

╭────༺♡༻────╮

YANDERE!PLAYBOY // SFW Alphabet

A/N ;; Thank you so much!! i’ll start off with the SFW alphabet for kieran and then do the jocks! I may do the NSFW alphabets later on<3.

╰────༺♡༻────╯

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Very affectionate to you if you’re in a relationship. Mainly likes physical affection and will always be touching you in some way. (Hand around shoulder, arm, thigh etc)

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

would NOT be a good best friend. The only reason why he’s friends with you is because he’s in love with you 😭 with his other ‘friends’ hes not reliable at all, doesn’t really care for them, just keeps them around because it makes him look good. But with you, He just pretends you guys are in an established relationship (delusional king fr)

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He’d be the be the big spoon 101%. Holds you quite tight, his body temperature is always cold so that might be a negative.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He has really bad commitment issues but with you he’d want to settle down really quickly. If you wanted him to move into your house hed do so in an instant, or if you wanted a new house/flat? he’d have the documents in hand.

Average at cooking, he wouldn’t burn the whole house down but he also wouldn’t make a 5 star meal. Horrible at baking though. Hed struggle to clean because he’s used to others doing it for him

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

With his past girlfriends, he’d either ghost them or be very straight up and rude if they don’t get the hint.

With you? Even if you were the worst person in the world, you’re not going anywhere LOL.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

To be honest, I think he would find marriage stupid and useless, What’s the point of some words on a paper showing you’re in a relationship?

BUT, if you even slightly wanted it, then he would get married and give an extravagant wedding also inviting literally everyone he knows so he can show off the relationship. Or he’d get married with you, if he can see that you’re slowly getting tired of him, He’ll bring it up suddenly and will not give you an option to say no.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Emotionally, He tries hard for you, but sometimes he takes things like a joke too far beccause he’s used to lacking empathy. But if he notices you’re upset, he’ll apologise and practically go on his knees for you

Physically, He’s gentle but sort of man-handles you?? Not in a rude way but he’d move you with his arms instead of telling you to move or always initiates physical contact even though you may not want it.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

LMFAOO IM SO SORRY BUT HED BE THE TYPE TO BE LIKE “aha Y/N, where’s my hug at?”

joking (probably..), Hed always want to be the arms above and he’d hug you very tightly, close to the point where it’s hard to breathe. While hugging you, he’d sway your body side to side (idk if that makes sense)

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

As soon as you say yes into being his partner. Or maybe even before that.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Gets jealous very very VERY easily. If he sees you hanging out w another man, he’d jealous so fast. ESPECIALLY if that man made you laugh.

When he’s jealous, he doesn’t show it angrily or sadly. Yeah he’s angry, but he just flirts more with you, grows more protective over you and doesn’t show the aggresive side to you, but rather the perpetrator.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Loves to smother you in kisses, His kisses are rough and hard, almost to the point where it hurts. He tries to always have a flirtatious personality but sometimes when he kisses you, you can feel the desperate aura around him. Almost as if he thinks you’d disappear if he let go. He likes kissing you everywhere, but does it more on the lips and your forehead. He’d love for you to kiss his cheek and biceps the most.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

I think this is the only time where you could see Kieran being slightly awkward. He’s a lot more calm and toned down around them. He wouldn’t actively try to communicate with children, but if they approach him, he’d try his best to listen and answer. (He would prefer them not coming to him though.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

It’s cute. Mornings are the rare times where he has his guard down and is overall just sweet. He loves it when you stay in bed for an extra five minutes and would hug you tightly, and whisper sweet nothings into your ear along with soft kisses. He’s quite vulnerable during the mornings and you can really feel how grateful he is to be with you.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

This is the SFW alphabet so unfortunately i can’t say what he’d normally do :(.

But on the more quiet nights, He’d like to hug you, while he’s the big spoon and wait for you to fall asleep before he would try too. If he can’t fall asleep he’d gently try to turn your body around and stare at your face (a bit creepily) before he’ll grow tired.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Very very slowly. He’d know your whole life story before you know a portion of his. If you never asked I don’t even think he’d reveal his backstory. But if you were to be quite stubborn about it, he’d tell you everything and more.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

With you? Extreme amount of patience, but may get frustrated with your lack of attention to him.

With others? He doesn’t care about them enough to get angry at them. But if it affects you in any way? Consider that person dead.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Every single detail. Even the things you didn’t tell him. Focuses on you like it’s the most important subject ever.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

1. When you finally laughed at his cheesy joke/pickup line

2. When you finally said yes to his confessions and kissed him

3. this whole moment.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

If he sees you speaking with someone who he views as a threat? They’d be on the news in less than a week.

Would protect you by constantly being by your side, low-key overbearing but whatever.

He’d rather protect you than vice versa. But he would like to be protected by your reassurance once you guys get into a steady relationship. Even if he is very confident, he does think bad scenarios sometimes.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Tries extremely hard. Knows everything about you so would but a gift you had wanted for a long time, or if you didn’t know you wanted but once he gave it too you, you’d be shocked at how much you’d needed it. Dates, anniversaries etc extremely romantic, he has a lot of money to spend and would spend it all on you. Even when you guys aren’t dating he’d go all out.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

his whole personality LOL

kidding, he gets jealous really quickly, he would kidnap you if he could tell you REALLY weren’t interested in him, He has no empathy for anyone other than you, he would essentially do anything for you if you asked (beside leaving you alone.)

since he is a yandere, I feel like the relationship would get toxic on Y/Ns side after a while. He’d still be enamoured whilst for you, it could begin to get tiring. (Or not LOL)

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He knows he’s good looking. He has a small routine but other than that he just lets his looks carry him.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He’d be a goner without you. Ever since he met you, there’s not a single time where he doesn’t think about you. If you were ever to disappear? He’d search the whole world for you and wouldn’t stop. He cannot live without you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Owns a letterman jacket in every colour.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He likes anything that you do.

But with other people, if they act like they know him when they clearly don’t. Most of the school acts like that, that’s why he doesn’t like anyone but pretends too.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Wraps his arm around you tightly. If you wake up before him, you’re trapped. He’s a light sleeper so he’d wake up if you moved a tiny bit. But would pretend to still be asleep so he could cuddle you a little more.

purerae<3

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rowaelinsdaughter · 7 months

Note

Omg ok so i just an ideas for a smutty ask for rowan

so he gives dom vibes to me so like imagine a pet play bunny/ kitten play with rowan and also idk why but i kinda get the vibes he’s a hard dom/ pleaure dom

and aftercare with rowan would just be the best like he would take such good care of you after your all stupid from him and

he would just make sure your like back from subspace before letting you sleep like i get the vibe he would have a sub& dom relationship

LITTLE BUNNY

a/n;; i got a little (too much) carried away with this, but holyyyyyy this was another smutty thing and i loved to write it

WARNINGS;; smutt without plot, sub / dom dynamics, pet play bunny, use of plugs,knife play, a little of blood, spanking, fluff at the end

rowan would definitely be into play bunny and he IS a hard dom but soft aftercare.

he would ask her one day after a hot session. he was cleaning her in the shower, hot water relaxing her muscles. rowan was giving her a massage on her shoulders, a soft, lox moan leaving her lips unintentionally. he turned her around so she was facing her. “i’ve been thinking this for some time now” her hands were on his chest, slowly making their way to his silver hair. “what is it ro?” she asked softly.

“would you like to dress like a bunny?”

for some reason she knew he was going to ask her something like that, she didn’t know the reason or who told him about it but, she said yes.

they didn’t try it immediately but a week later he came back home with a box. bunny ears and a soft bunny tail. one she needed to plug it on her butt, but she didn’t care. “i have an idea, ro” she said to him after opening the box. “why don't we wait to use this?”

“but i dont want to wait, doll” “please ro” she pouted to him and she knew he couldn’t say no to her when she gave him the “bambi look”, and it worked. he said he would wait. a kiss to her forehead and he entered the bathroom.

rowan was sent to a mission for 5 days and she decided to finally use the bunny ears and tail. he was due to arrive home that night, so she spent the whole day preparing everything for his arrival. it was past midnight when she heard the door open and rowan calling her name. she laid down on the bed face down. she was wearing white lingerie, the bottom had a hole behind for her to plug the tail easily. high socks and a nearly transparent bra. the door opened and rowan stopped abruptly after seeing her on their bed. she knelt on the bed, her hands traveling her body as if showing him her body. as if he didn’t knew every part of her.

“you like it daddy?” she said innocently. rowan approached the bed like a hunter assessing his prey, and with the knives still on his belt and legs, he really looked like one. the hunter and the prey. he grabbed her neck, squeezing a bit. she choked a moan due to his hand. “you ask me if i like it, doll? i fucking love it, and im going to enjoy it.” the hand on her neck traveled all the way down to her cunt, a wet stain on her panties. “you’re soaked, doll.”

“for you daddy. only for you” she gasped. rowan grabbed a knife from his belt and cut the bra from the middle, hanging from her shoulders like an open shirt, exposing her heavy breasts. he climbed to the bed, knees on either side of her also kneeling position, but he was taller than her, so she had to look up to his green eyes. he placed the tip of the knife on her chin, a drop of blood running down her throat, her chest, until it reached her panties, a red spot making contrast with the white.

she whimpered like a little animal and rowan laughed. low and wicked. “you’re my little bunny, aren’t you?” she nodded “words bunny”, “yes daddy” he leaned down so his lips were nearly touching. “good bunny” and he finally kissed her. teeth crashing. tongue dancing. like a storm that was near. he turned her harshly, her back pressed on his chest. she didn’t know when he had took off his clothes, but they were gone, and she could feel every inch of her toned, perfect skin, full of scars she loved kissing or licking.

he took her neck and pushed her down, lifting her ass up. with a hand on her neck, he smacked her butt with the other through the fabric. a soft red painted her rounded ass cheeks. “daddy, please,” she pleaded. “please, what? use your words bunny” she swallowed and looked at him. “please, fuck me daddy” rowan smirked. “of course bunny”

and he did fuck her. the sun was rising when they fell to the bed, satisfied and exhausted. rowan looked at her and a soft smile lit up his face as he watched his mate. she was falling asleep but she needed to change and clean. “hey, babe. c’mon don't fall asleep, we need to get clean” she moved further under the sheets. “dont want to” she murmured, but rowan didn’t listened to her and lifted her bridal style while she groaned. “you’re such a baby”, “shut up rowan.”

he cleaned her, leaving sweet kisses on her body while he did it. he dressed her with one of his t-shirts and while he was dressing she nearly fell from the counter but rowan caught her before she could hit the floor. he tucked her under the sheets and laid beside her. by the time he left a kiss on her lips she was asleep.

#sarah j maas #sjm books #fanfic #throne of glass #throne of glass imagine #throne of glass fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #rowan fic #rowan x reader #rowan fanfic #rowan x you #tog x reader #tog fic #tog #tog smut

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a-random-weeb · 1 year

Text

BSD men x reader sick headcannons

im sick as well as my friend so fml I'm writing this

Warnings: le sick, this is kind of self indulgent in a way but at the same time your sick so... you have the right while your sick.

Autre warnings: this is my first fic, it's probably gonna suck ;-;

also soup is the food of the gods in this for some reason

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dazai:

•he bursts out laughing at first, making fun of you (in a friendly way)

•Once he's done with his laughing fit, he does (try to) take care of you

•ok he's not the worst at taking care of people, but I feel like the worst part would be him making fun of you

•he won't let you go to work/school (if you're a student like in highschool pretend you're older), just because he's laughing at you, doesn't mean he doesn't care.

•he'd cuddle you, then end up getting sick, then you take care if him and cuddle him, then you get sick and so on until one of you realizes you can't cuddle (aka you, and he complains. This is the same for Nikolai)

•he pisses you off, but he loves you

"how did you get sick?!" He laughs as he hands you a bowl of soup, as you lie in the silky sheets of your shared bed with the worst cold of your life. You shoot him a glare as you take the soup in your shaking hands, making sure not to drop it.

"I already told you, my coworker got me sick!" You begin to eat your soup, frustrated and pissed. He plants a kiss on your forehead

"I'll call your work and tell them you're taking the day off!" He skips to the other room. You lie there, thankful for your lovely boyfriend.

(I don't simp for dazai so it was hard to write for him. This is my first fanfic EVER, be quiet. I only put dazai at the top for a friend.)

˖♡︎˖˚♡˚˖♡︎˖˚♡˚˖♡︎˖˚♡˚˖♡︎˖˚♡˚˖♡︎˖˚♡˚˖♡︎˖˚♡˚˖♡︎˖˚♡˚˖♡︎˖

Chuuya:

•He's easy to anger, so when you get sick, he knows you probably did something stupid to get yourself sick.

•Unlike Dazai, he's a good cook, but still he makes you soup, and angrily holds it out to you.

•he takes care of you, but acts angry the whole time. I say acts, but he really is angry, but he also cares about you. But is still angry.

•he's not Bakugou level angry, he's still calm(ish)

•he does verbally abuse you the whole time though.

•But it's not actually abuse. I feel like he just calls you dumbass and idiot.

•he's very forceful with everything he does ("eat! Or I'll force feed you!") ←(this is my fav head cannon for him, he would)

•He cuddles you, but somehow this man does not get sick, until he does, then you take care of him, but he doesn't let you touch him while taking care of him so the same thing that happened with dazai doesn't happen with you. There will be no cycle.

•He also buys you a lot of expensive medicine

•you piss him off, but so does everything

"You idiot! How the hell did you get yourself sick?!" He hands the bowl soup to you.

"I was playing in the rain with a cat." You give him an innocent look as he shoots you a glare.

"Why?! You knew it would get you sick!"

"but... there was puddles... and a cat who liked water..."

Chuuya facepalms. "Seriously?!" He sighs, calming himself down. He sits next to you on the bed as you eat your soup. He's rich, and I feel like you begged him to buy a tv for he bedroom. You guys watch my hero academia. Even though I said he cuddles you while sick, I don't think he'd actually unless you cling to him, then he'll let you sometimes. But he just sits on the other side of the bed as you watch anime together, and pass out in eachothers presence.

(I cringed at this one, it wasn't as good as I hoped. I made him a tiny bit ooc too ;-; idk I feel like it's good for a first time.)

✧.𖥔 ݁ ˖𖦹⭒°｡⋆✧˖°.✧˖°.✧˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖𖦹⭒°｡⋆°.✧˖°.✧˖°..𖥔 ݁ ˖𖦹⭒°｡⋆

Kunikida:

•He's nicer than the rest of them

•He's the only decently normal one of the boys.

•he makes you soup and blah blah blah

•He doesn't cuddle you, he has common sense

•You don't want to get him sick either, so....

•He buys you medicine, he knows the best kinds

(I couldn't think of a scenario. Sorry)

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Akutagawa:

•Has no idea what to do

•He thinks you're gonna die so he makes this whole dramatic speech

•All you have is a common cold 😭

•after he figures out you're not gonna die, he asks what he can do

•He goes to the store to buy you medicine

•He doesn't know what else to do

•you tell him it's fine and all you need is a few days off of work

•He feels too bad, so he goes on one of those weird websites

•Next thing you know he comes in a skateboard and circling around you, chanting these weird, demonic words 😭

•"Wa bubu shaaaaaa qut epeu turu!"

"Aku wth are you doing?!"

"Curing your sick"

𓍢ִ໋✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚♡✧˖°~∆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𓍢ִ໋✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚♡✧˖°~∆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𓍢ִ໋

I too lazy to write for anyone else, this is a quick drabble and my first fanfic. I hope you liked it!

#Chuuya x reader #Dazai x reader #Bsd fluff #Kunikida x reader #Bsd x reader #Le sick #I am sickkkk whyyyyyy #doppo kunikida #Chuuya Nakahara #bsd skk #headcannons #bsd akutagawa #akutagawa ryuunosuke #Bungou stray dogs #Akutagawa x reader #BSD fluff

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mochinomnoms · 7 months

Note

IM CRYING I GOT SICK SO I DONT FEEL WELL😭😭😭😭 Still I'll push through and get these Valentine's scenarios to you!!! You might get the other two a bit later tho so sorry!!!

Azul would definitely make sure to give you your gift first. He has done extensive research and came to Ramshackle with a bouquet of your favorite flowers! Though Valentines wasn't foreign to him, the way humans celebrated was a bit different! Then he'd take you to the town on the island, because somehow he got permission from Crowley!

It was with a bribe

........

At least you think so? But you got to go and have a great time on the rest of the island so who cares? He took you to multiple shops and then to the beach after. When you got back to campus you both went to his dorm. And it confused him to no end when you told him to wait while you ran off towards the dorms kitchen. He waited like an hour until you came out. He was a little annoyed but he couldn't go into the kitchen since the twins were keeping guard of the door as he heard sizzling. Hands down you enter the room with a, "Missed me?"

He'd question why you took so long but little did he know you ALSO did your research! Leading him to his own VIP room you'd explain nothing to him and watch as he blushed and tried to get answers from you. I mean why go to such a private room on such an intimate day? He's embarrassed even more as some other dorm members walk past him, a blushing mess, being tugged into his private office.

Not to mention your teasing the entire way there with hand holding and little pecks! He wouldn't say it out loud (7 forbid the tweels hear him) but he loves your affection just as much as it embarrasses him! And sevens, does it embarrass him!

When you get to the room the foods already set up! Courtesy of the twins. He knows the food was made by you, why else would you be gone for an hour!? and is kinda nervous for two reasons.

He's not too sure you can cook

2. Gifting food (for octo-mers) is usually part of their courting process

And I mean, yeah sure he's already dating you and everything but it feels really intimate! And it gets even more so when you lift the fork and bring it to his lips. (sorry to the people who CAN cook) But it seems Azul was right about questioning your culinary abilities.... Its kind of charred around the edges too, not a lot but to someone who's skilled at cooking its hard to not notice.

"Its burnt!" Azul laughs light heartily even though he still takes a bite.

"Yeah well its made with love, not skill," you reply sarcastically. As he eats his fill he makes comments about how he wants to avoid getting chubby, which you quickly dismiss saying you'd love him however he looked. To be completely honest he practically melts into your side on the couch. Its cute how shy he gets with this, and he seems to be leaning in more to your touch more.

Idk how to end this so HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!! I hope you enjoyed and I'll finish the other ones soon!!

-✨👀

Happy Valentine's Day (late, sorry baby I got busy yesterday until night time)

This is so cute! I love it! Food is def my love language, so I would love cooking a meal for Azul!! It's such an intimate thing to hand feed your partner...Azulito let me feed you 😭

Thank you for the gift my love! I appreciate it! Maybe in the future I can write a series on food as a love language with the twst cast!

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #✨👀 anon

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bi-the-wei · 1 month

Text

Random thoughts about my weight

Im a heavier gal. (Full disclosure about 240lb currently) I am working on getting more vegetables and exercise in my life, but for the foreseeable future Im still gonna be a heavier gal.

Im gonna look heavy no matter what i wear.

So im gonna wear what i like. Hiding my arms doesn't make them look thinner

This is something ive lived by for the past few years and honestly, while its hard at first to fight the instinct to hide my arms or legs or whatever, once you stop it feels so much better.

Also i still have the instinct to explain why im heavy, like that makes a difference if ive had health issues or some "reasonable explination" makes it more excusable to be the weight i am when in reality no one should ever have to explain themselves for something like that. Regardless of the reason im fat, I deserve basic human respect without excuses.

Which brings me to the fat positivity thing. To me it's never been about wanting to be fat or fat being healthy or unhealthy or whatever. Its about it doesnt matter if you're healthy or not you still deserve to be treated well and with dignity.

I remember my friends laughing at a girl who rode her bike in our neighborhood all the time because "youd think shed be skinnier with all that biking" which is just utter nonsense. I didnt speak up then when i should have but i still think about it often. The girl wasnt even big. I have no idea what their problem was.

But how do you expect someone to even get exercise when theyre larger when you laugh at them when they try? Make it make sense it doesn't

Just like idk

Let people live? And leave them alone? Treat people with basic respect?

I dont generally feel any particular WAY about my weight, its just there, but sometimes i do concider it and get mad on my blubber belly's behalf.

#ill delete this later most likely #but felt compelled to talk about it today #not sure why #im legitimately not upset that im fat #just felt like talking about it

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m0llygunn · 1 year

Text

Strat and Jag (Eddie Munson x fem!reader)

Summary: an unfortunate bout of eavesdropping rocks the boat of friendship between you and eddie, and ex-sailor steve helps steer you right...

Warnings: 18+ for mature content (not too explicit yet) and eventual smut, mature language, mentions of eddie trauma (parents/alluding to drug issues). Authors note: howdy this is part 2. also i take back the prologue being a prologue, thats just part one idk what im doing. This part and the 3rd part will be the main chunk of this series, then I have bonus chapters coming after! ty! wc: 6.7k+

01/02

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The Fire of All Hells

“I can’t fucking do this anymore, holy shit. She’s killing me.”

“Killing you? I don’t think it’s that serious, man.” Gareth laughs.

“No.” Eddie says harshly. “If you heard what she was saying yesterday… holy fuck, you’d understand. She is killing me.” He groans.

“Well, dude, you know what you could do?” Jeff replies sarcastically.

Eddie, Jeff, and Gareth were all setting up in the drama room and you figured you’d show up a little early with the cookies you made after Eddie left you yesterday.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

While you didn’t play DnD, you were an odd sort of an ‘unofficial’ member. You and Eddie have been friends forever so it was kind of pushed into your lap when he wanted to start his little club. And since it was a group of dimwit boys, you unwarrantedly became the founding mother of the club… alongside the founding father, Eddie— who, have it be noted, has zero organizational capabilities, not an ounce of time management skills, and absolutely no faith entrusted in him by any school faculty members. And for all of those reasons, that is why you were roped into this weird little club.

Eddie practically begged for you to be the one to ask the teachers to start the group. His far from perfect rep with them would have made the teachers obviously turn him down… but you on the other hand… you're liked enough, get good enough grades, and although have been tied to Eddie in numerous ways (including physically that one time when Eddie bought industrial level handcuffs, brought them to school to show off, cuffed you and him together to demonstrate, realized he lost the keys, and then you both spend the day cuffed together until Wayne got home to saw you free), you keep out of trouble for the most part.

After a week of Eddie groveling and a few deals set between you too, you gave in. At the time, you were in your freshman year, and Eddie was promised Wayne’s old van once he got his license, so he set the deal that he would drive you to school and home everyday (which now that you're both in your senior year, it’s a promise that he has mostly held up overtime). He also promised his eternal friendship, which was already a given so that barely sweetened the deal. It’s kind of foggy at this point, being so long ago, but you’re sure he also bought you some other shit, probably stole you some beer too, because god knows you two were fiends for any alcohol back then.

Since you had to ask to start up the club, it was your name under the club registry so it was always the drama teacher up your ass about making sure everything was cleaned properly, put away, no food left behind because of the mice… blah blah blah. So yeah… you’re practically the sole standing reason hellfire exists at Hawkins High but you don’t like to think about that… if you think too hard about it, you can’t help but cringe internally. You don’t mind their little group but you’d rather not be known as their leader— that’s all Eddie.

You knew Eddie because his dad and your dad were friends back in high school. The only difference between the two men was when your mom got pregnant with you, your dad cleaned up his life. Eddie’s dad on the other hand was the first to get a girl pregnant out of the two of them— which coincidentally happened in the same year; however, Eddie’s dad couldn’t quite give up his lifestyle. He tried for a bit, he really did, especially after Eddie’s mom skipped town, but it was just hard for him. It didn’t help when he got an injury doing some kind of labor job either. The doctors prescribed him some heavy pain medicine and that’s kind of when everything went to shit.

As a kid you never noticed. At 8 years old, you were oblivious to the havoc being dragged through the lives of everyone around you. You thought it was all fun and games. Eddie had come and stayed with your family for a few weeks and you thought it was the best. It was like a giant sleepover, probably the closest thing you’ve ever had to a sibling.

Then Wayne came into the picture. He was living down south, working as a truck driver. Once his brother got his sentence, he moved up, got the trailer, got a job at the plant, and started taking care of Eddie. He was a saint in the body of a mean-looking, tough talking trucker. Not really mean though, he’s a big ole softy, he just doesn’t let most people know that.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You take a step further into the drama room, not purposefully trying to eavesdrop, you just didn’t mean to interrupt their conversation so abruptly.

“I can’t do that.” Eddie says flatly.

“You can dude. There’s no way she doesn’t know already. Everyone already thinks you’re together since you touch her nonstop. Seriously. You’re like, attached to her at all times.” Gareth says.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Eddie’s always been touchy. Always. Gareth’s not wrong, he always has some part of himself connected to you, whether it’s a knee under the table or an arm around your shoulder, that’s just how he’s always been. He’s never shied away from physical touch and that’s normal for you two after all these years. He was your first hug with a boy, first hand hold with a boy, first kiss, second kiss. It’s always been innocent enough though, he’s your best friend after all, it just so happens to be that he’s a boy. Not a boy boy. Just a boy.

At 7 years old that’s when you two had first kissed. Then again at 10.

The first time, he was making you play some stupid game where he was a knight and you were a princess and according to him, obviously the knight had to kiss the princess. The second time he wanted to ‘practice’ playing spin the bottle. It was only the two of you so you had thought it was a dumb idea but it was Summer and you had been banished from the trailer after spending the weekend blasting the TV and probably stopping Wayne from getting any rest.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Summer of 1978

Eddie had spun the bottle 27 times before it finally landed on you. 27 times. You still remember counting each failed spin, laughter getting rowdier and rowdier at your best friend's terrible luck. The 27th time, he lit up like a damn Christmas tree when the neck of the bottle finally slowed, landing point blank in your direction. You couldn’t help the laughing fit that overcame you and you had thrown yourself backwards, clenching your aching stomach, head softly hitting the dirt floor of the forest clearing you two frequented. That’s when Eddie snuck up and stole the kiss.

You would have let him kiss you, cause that was all part of the game after all. You both had agreed on the rules before starting, but that didn’t stop your surprise when his scrawny little 11 year old body fell over yours.

You still remember distinctly the way he had grabbed your hands to pull them away from where you were holding your stomach. He pinned them both beside your head, similar to when you’d wrestle, and he looked at you with the biggest signature Eddie Munson smirk known to man. At this point, you were stronger than him still and could have easily tossed him off but it shocked you having him so close and so quickly. It took you by surprise so much so that it knocked all the giggles from you. You just laid there, in Eddie’s hold. His smirk fell and after a moment, he dipped his face to yours, and he kissed you for the second time.

“Gross Eddie!” You shrieked when you felt his slimy tongue harshly poking past your lower lip and into your mouth. He started to get up off you but you were embarrassed, so you pushed him making him land harshly on his butt.

“It’s called a French kiss.” Eddie stated matter of factly, face scrunched, hands rubbing over his lower back that stung from the impact of his landing.

“It’s disgusting and you smell like cheezies.” You say pushing yourself up from the ground and wiping his spit off your mouth.

“It’s practice.” He huffed. “And you taste like cheezies. It’s not just me.”

“I do not!” You shrieked before hauling yourself up into a standing position ready to stomp away from him. You were already embarrassed by Eddie shocking you into silence, then him telling you that you tasted like cheezies… even at 10 years old you knew that’s not what a boy would want to taste during a kiss.

“We ate cheezies, Strat.” Eddie said, rolling his eyes at you.

‘Strat’ was a nickname that your dad started. He was the guitar guy, and spent a lot of time teaching you and Eddie about music since you were toddlers. Once you got old enough to actually hold a guitar, he had two that he’d let you both mess around with; a Fender Stratocaster and a Fender Jaguar. The strat was a pretty baby blue colour that you adored, so naturally, you always called dibs on it, and Eddie got the red Jag. Your dad would call you both ‘Strat’ and ‘Jag’ and unfortunately the nickname stuck for you and you only— probably because you would whine and cry about the strat if Eddie tried to steal it from you.

At the roll of Eddie's eyes, that really set you off. You turned, stomping your feet back to the trailer park.

“Hey, I like cheezies, Strat! Don’t go!” Eddie called after you. “We’re not done playing, you still have to spin!”

“I’m telling Wayne!” You screamed, running faster to the trailer once you heard Eddie’s clumsy steps behind you.

“No! Please, don’t!” He yelled back pleadingly, making you smile to yourself revengefully. You heard his steps quicken behind you so you sprinted, making it to the door of the trailer in record speed.

You threw open the door, startling Wayne who was sat on the couch, and just as you were about to speak you felt Eddie’s hand clamp around your mouth from behind.

“Edward Munson. You take your hands off that girl.” Wayne warned sternly.

“B-but-”, Eddie began before you interrupted him by elbowing him in the stomach.

“Yeah. Hands off.” You said turning to face Eddie as he held onto his stomach. You smirked at him and he sent you pleading eyes not to tell. You weren’t going to. That never was your plan, you just wanted to see him squirm as payback for him embarrassing you.

“Ohhhhh Wayne.” You sang. Eddie’s eyes widening, his features turning increasingly pleading for you not to tell on him.

“What in god's name happened to you, you’re covered in dirt, missy.” Wayne said ignoring you. He stood from the couch, making his way over to you before his hands were patting at your back trying to get the dirt off. Your face fell and you couldn’t think of a response.

“She-she… we were playing a game and-” Eddie’s pleading look stopped and his gaze dropped to the floor. You could tell he was about to rat himself out. This boy couldn’t keep one secret from Wayne…

“I fell and Eddie helped me up.” You interject. Eddie’s gaze locked into yours, eyes wide before relaxing, sending you a small smile when he realized what you were doing.

“Her mom’s gonna kill us both, boy. You better go find her some clothes so I can throw these ones in the wash.” Wayne huffed.

Eddie ran into the trailer to his room.

“Clean clothes too, boy! Don’t give her dirty stuff!” Wayne yelled when Eddie was taking too long.

“I know Wayne.” Eddie yelled back, voice full of attitude.

After a few moments, he emerged, with his favourite Black Sabbath shirt that your dad bought for him for his birthday last year and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms.

“Go change, missy.” Wayne gruffed, patting you on the back.

Back in Eddie’s room you both sat on his floor reading his comics.

“You look pretty in that shirt.” Eddie said, interrupting the silence.

“Shut up Edward. I still don’t forgive you for trying to french kiss me.” You say, cheeks turning hot in anger, prompting you to pick up the closest discarded piece of clothing from his messy floor to throw at him.

“I'm sorry! It was just for practice.” Eddie groaned dramatically.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Before you both reached puberty it was all hugs, holding hands, sharing seats, sharing beds, just being innocently close to each other. After puberty his touchness did simmer a bit. Albeit not much though. Eddie still barely knows what personal space is, but he’s not grabbing at your hand every second like he did when you were kids.

“I don’t always touch her! Besides, it’s always been like that since we were kids, it’s normal.” Eddie says, focusing his attention on setting up.

“There’s nothing normal about the way you act around her.” Gareth says with a laugh.

“Yeah. You love her.” Jeff teases.

“And that’s the fucking problem. Thanks for really rubbing it in guys.” Eddie says exasperatedly, throwing his bag of dice onto the table carelessly.

“Just ask her out.” Jeff says, patting Eddie on the back as he slouches down onto the table.

“Oh great idea! Strat, I fucking love you. Please, go out on a date with me and potentionally fuck up our lifelong friendship. Great idea guys. Thank you so much.” Eddie says sarcastically.

During Eddie’s spiel he had picked up his bag of dice again. Finishing his scornful remark, he had thrown it down on the table, this time the dice falling out and skidding across the floor, most of them landing at your feet.

All three boys turn at once, moving to pick up the dice before they spotted you.

“Shit.” Gareth says, filling the silence of the room.

You look at Eddie and he’s gone pale, his whole face null of expression.

“I- Hey.” You stutter, clearing your throat. “I was just gonna drop these off.” You continue, stepping forward to place the container of cookies on the table.

“Hey Strat.” Jeff says nervously, being the first to snap out of his surprise. “You gonna stay today?” He asks.

“No, no… gotta help my mom with.. something.” You lie. You were gonna stay. You told the little twerps you’d stay today, but you really have to go now.

“I swore you told Dustin at lunch that you’d stay?” Gareth says, eyes narrowing in on you.

“No, I-”

“Hey guys! What’s up?” Grant greets excitedly as he enters the drama room.

“Hey Grant.” You smile before taking steps towards the door.

“Strat? You’re going?” He questions, brows furrowing at you. “Dustin said you were staying and that you had something for us?”

“No, I have to go. Bye guys.” You say, turning quickly before exiting the room.

“What’s up with her?” You hear Grant say to the guys from the hall.

“Strat! Where you going?” Lucas calls from the other end of the hall. You turn briefly, still walking backwards towards the school exit.

“Gotta go home! I left cookies for you guys in there.” You say, putting on your best cheery voice before turning and walking as fast as you can out of the school.

Shit. Eddie was right. He can’t just ask you out. That would be ruining a lifelong friendship. He can’t do that. He can’t like you. You guys are best friends. He can’t do that to you.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

At home you flop yourself on your bed. What the fuck are you gonna do?

Nothing.

You’re going to do nothing.

You’re going to pretend you didn’t hear that. Eddie doesn’t like you. He doesn’t love you. He’s not ruining your friendship— you won’t let him.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You spend the weekend convincing yourself you made up the entire conversation you overheard. Eddie called 6 times since Friday evening, but you needed the time to erase whatever you overheard in the drama room from your memory.

You spend Sunday evening contemplating if you should even take the ride from Eddie in the morning. He barely shows up Monday mornings so, who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky and won’t have to see him anyways.

You were wrong though. You decided to start your walk, and halfway there, you heard the familiar rumbling of his van approaching before slowing at your side.

The van halts and you look over to see a fairly normal looking Eddie smiling at you. You try to muster a smile but you know it must look weird because he retracts into himself before motioning for you to get in.

You stop, contemplating if it’s a good idea before you hear a car coming up the road that makes the decision for you. You quickly hop into the van, buckling yourself in as Eddie starts driving before the car behind him has time to honk.

“Hey.” Eddie says.

“Hey.” You reply.

For a moment all that’s heard is the rumbling of the van engine.

“Haven’t heard from you in a while.” He says cautiously.

“Yeah. Sorry. Was busy.” You lie. You spent the whole weekend in bed doing fuck all but thinking about the situation at large.

“Busy?” Eddie asks. He knew you weren’t busy. You told him a few days that you had no plans. You were supposed to go over to his, but obviously that didn’t happen.

“Yeah. Busy. My mom needed help with something.” You say, sticking with the same lie from Friday.

“Something?” He questions. Without looking at him, you can tell he's smiling.

“You’re just full of questions, aren’t you?” You say flatly, copying his same avoidant statement from Thursday night when he claimed to be helping Wayne with ‘something’. He huffs a breath out of his nose in what sounds like amusement, but you don’t think this is funny.

You don’t say more and neither does he for the rest of the ride. When you pull into the lot, you both get out before walking into the school. It’s mostly normal, except for the fact that it’s dead silent between the two of you. You don’t think it’s ever been this quiet between you.

When you see Robin, you use her as your escape.

“Robin!” You call. She turns to you and you wave at her. You start walking towards her and out of your periphery, you can see Eddie still trailing beside you.

“Bye Eddie.” You say, stopping to turn toward him. You can’t look at him though, not in the eyes. You haven’t yet, apart from through the window of the van.

“Bye Strat.” He says quietly.

You quickly push your way through the halls, leaving Eddie behind until you get to Robin.

“What was that?” She asks as soon as you’re close enough to hear her.

“What was what?” You question.

“What did you say to him, he looked like he was gonna cry?” Robin says furrowing her eyebrows at you.

“I just said bye?” You say.

“Just bye?” She says skeptically. You nod your head at her.

She grabs a book out of her locker, eyes still on you, clearly not believing you.

“Steve said that those little twerps said something happened.” She says flatly.

“Like what?” You ask hoping she has some drama that’ll take your mind off of all this.

“Something with you and Eddie.”

“Why’d they say that?” You roll your eyes.

“Cause something did happen?” She says, waiting for you to fill her in but you don’t.

She stares at you, waiting for you to spill but truly, there’s nothing to spill. You let your eyes roam the hall, feeling awkward under her scrutinizing look before the slamming of her locker startles you.

“You heard them talking didn’t you?” She asks.

“Heard who?” You ask and you physically feel Robin's annoyance rising.

“Strat. Stop playing dumb.” She scolds.

“Robin. I’m not playing dumb.” You reply, sticking to your guns. It didn’t happen. You didn’t hear anything. Nothing happened.

“Strat-” Robin starts, getting interrupted by the first bell.

“Gotta go Robs! Good talk.” You say before bolting to home room.

You usually sit next to Eddie, but it’s fine. Nothing happened, right? Don’t need to be weird around him, right?

You cross the class to your seat at the back of the room, the spot next to you still empty. Little by little the class fills and by the time the second bell goes, you’re still left sitting alone at the back of the class.

Halfway through the class, you’re still sitting alone.

You try to focus on taking notes— especially now since you know you’re gonna have to teach this shit to Eddie who’s currently skipping, but you’re having a hard time focusing.

When the teacher steps out of the class to get her forgotten worksheets from her office you lean forward in your chair, poking Jeff in the back.

“Where is he?” You ask, when he turns.

“Seriously?” He laughs. You frown, not appreciating being laughed at right in your face.

“Yeah. Seriously.” You reply sharply.

“I think you know the answer to that.” Jeff says before turning forward again.

Okay. Ouch. You always thought of Jeff as being the nicest out of the three older hellfire guys, but that was cold.

You didn’t see Eddie for the rest of the day. Matter of fact, you didn’t see him until the next morning when he did the same thing. You had started walking and he drove up behind you, slowing, and you got in. The ride was in complete silence. Not a word or a glance.

When you got to school, you parted ways immediately, without as much as a goodbye. Eddie didn’t show up to homeroom and Jeff didn’t look your way, not that you would have started a conversation with him after yesterday.

You had seen Gareth and Grant walking in the hall and you waved. You know they both saw you but they kept walking, not reciprocating your wave, and it really fucking stung.

That evening you walked home again. Alone.

The next morning, you walked the whole way to school. Alone. No Eddie in homeroom.

You were miserable. And to make matters worse, that morning, the drama teacher called you to his office over the intercom and proceeded to tear you a new one about how things were left in the drama room last Friday. You lied and said you weren’t feeling good and left things a bit of a mess, and that you were very sorry. By the end of the conversation, he was less so scolding you and more so giving you a pitiful look. Maybe you appeared as shitty as you felt, who knows, but you didn’t get detention so at least you got that win. He let you off with a warning instead but made sure to add that if it happens again this Friday, that’s it for your club.

Before lunch you set out to find the only hellfire members that you were certain would not give you the cold shoulder.

“Dustin! Mike!” You called, stopping them before they could enter the cafeteria. You really didn’t want to go in there, knowing Eddie would be there for sure.

You jogged to catch up with them, both of them stopped right at the door.

“Hey, do you mind doing me a favor?” You ask, trying to not seem like the shell of a person that you feel like.

“Yeah? What’s up?” Mike replies.

“Mr. Joels called me to his office and said if you guys leave the drama room like that again he’s gonna cancel hellfire permanently. Can you tell Eddie?”

“Can’t you tell him?” Mike says before Dustin hits him on the arm.

Dustin turns slightly, peering into the caf and your eyes follow, narrowing in on the person you’re always first to look for in a room. You feel whatever shards of a heart you have left dissolve when you see how miserable he looks too.

“S-so can you tell him?” You stutter, trying to pull your attention away from Eddie.

“Strat? Why didn’t you stay on Friday?” Dustin asks quietly.

“B-because.” You stutter again, feeling far too terrible to put up with any more interrogating and far too tired to keep up your lies.

“You heard him didn’t you?” He asks. Yeah. You heard him. You can’t lie to yourself anymore. You can’t pretend you didn’t. It’s not helping anyone. It’s not saving any friendship, because look at this. This isn’t preservation.

All you can do is nod your head, eyes glued to your shoes.

“He likes you, Strat.” Dustin says. You shake your head, disagreeing.

“He does.” Mike adds. You shake your head harder.

“No. He said he loves me.” You say, voice coming out croaky, lowering lip jetting out like you're about to cry.

You bring the palms of your hands to your eyes, pushing until all you can see is black. You’re not about to cry in front of these freshies. You’re not.

You hear the scuffing of their shoes on the floor before you feel a hand on your arm.

“Hey. It’s okay. Strat. Seriously, we can tell him. Don’t cry.” Dustin coos nervously, obviously not having the intent of making you teary eyed.

“I’m not crying.” You huff, pulling your hands from your damp eyes.

“No-yeah! You’re not crying. Don’t worry, we'll tell the guys.” Dustin says genuinely, his demeanor remaining soft yet incredibly nervous. Mike continues looking back into the caf, obviously looking for help from anybody. “So you’re not gonna sit with us?” He asks tentatively.

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak.

“Well, if you want to come back eventually, uh- we miss you.” He says. You laugh and both boys look taken aback.

“Gareth and Grant pretended I didn’t exist when I saw them in the hall. Jeff laughed in my face when I asked about Eddie and then proceeded to give me the cold shoulder. They don’t miss me, trust me.” You say, exhaling deeply before standing up straighter, ready to end this conversation.

“We do miss you! Seriously.” Mike adds, looking nervous like it might not be the right thing to say.

“Thanks guys.” You say, accepting their sentiments. “Tell Lucas I said hey and sorry for running off on him on Friday. And sorry to you guys too, I did say I was going to stay and then I didn’t.” You add before turning on your heels, heading off to the library without waiting for their reply.

That evening, instead of moping in your room again, you decided to walk to family video. Making matters worse, your dad bought a new distortion pedal for his guitar and he’s been bugging you about getting Eddie to come over to check it out since Sunday. You're clean out of excuses and can’t handle him asking you again tonight, so getting out of the house seems like your best option. Robin usually doesn’t work Wednesday, which leaves Steve closing by himself. You’re not mad at Robin, you just can’t handle the interrogation.

Steve wouldn’t push you for answers like Robin would. He wouldn’t give you the cold shoulder like the other guys. He wouldn’t be the first person you’d hang out with, that of course would be Eddie but… yeah. Steve is a good friend though.

As soon as you walk into the video store you hear Steve calling your name from the register.

“Hey! Long time no see!” He says happily.

“Yeah. How are you!” You ask, trying to return his chipper attitude but it comes out meek.

“Eh, living the dream.” He says, smiling. He rounds the counter, leaning against it, beside where you’re standing. “And what about you?” He asks, quirking a brow.

“I’ve been better.” You say honestly. “Mind if I chill with you for a bit?” You ask, looking around the empty store.

“Not at all, in fact, I welcome it.” He laughs, his own eyes grazing the desolate isles.

You take a seat behind the counter with him, just talking about nothing. You can tell Steve’s waiting for you to bring something up though, he keeps giving you knowing looks whenever there’s a lull in conversation.

When he turns away to help some customers you mentally give yourself a pep talk to talk about it. You’re not going to cry.

“So… I assume the children and Robin filled you in?” You say, once Steve joins you again after the customers have left.

“That they did.” He says, smiling at you with a nod of his head.

“And?” You say, waiting for him to bombard you like Robin did.

“And what? What do I think?” He asks. You sit back, surprised by his response.

“I guess.” You say shrugging.

“Well… you and Munson are close. Obviously. Totally and completely close. I can see why you’re like… y’know… freaked out or whatever. In denial, like Robin said.” Steve says, shrugging his shoulders, mirroring your action.

You look up at Steve in total shock from his extremely validating answer and he just smiles back at you.

“Don’t you think… Am I not.. in the wrong? I mean, it feels like everybody's mad at me… but like, I don’t know what to do?” You say quietly, stumbling through your thoughts.

“I don’t think you’re in the wrong. Feelings are complicated, there’s not really a right or a wrong.” Steve says genuinely, surprising you.

“Wise.” You laugh.

“Well, you know. I’ve had my fair share of feelings.” Steve laughs.

“How did you know when you- uh…” You trail off. Steve waits patiently for you to speak and you’re beyond thankful for it. “With Nancy, how’d you know?” You say, mustering you all of your courage.

“I think that’s a little different because we weren’t close friends first, but… it’s hard to say. I guess I just really wanted to be with her, even if it was just hanging out. Thought about her like 24/7. All of that corny shit, like butterflies and blushing and feeling like you can’t breathe.” Steve says, grabbing a tape off the counter and fidgeting with it in his hands.

“Sorry for asking about Nancy.” You say, picking up his discomfort as soon as he starts playing with his hair, pushing it back over and over again.

“Don’t worry about it, seriously.” He says, reaching a hand across and patting your knee in a friendly manner.

“I guess, I’m just confused cause… I’ve never thought of Eddie that way, but… maybe I have?” You say, questioning yourself.

“Hmm.” Steve hums, thinking to himself.

“Like, I feel like Eddie’s my person. He’s the only one that I want to hang out with all the time, and I always think about him… but the butterflies and all that other stuff you said, I don’t know. I feel like Eddie's just Eddie, he doesn’t make me nervous like that.

“Well that could be because you’ve known him your whole life?” Steve gathers. “And I’m not trying to fuck with your head or anything, but you can’t say you don’t blush at stuff he does. I’ve seen it before.” Steve smiles at you genuinely.

“What?” You scrunch your face. You so do not blush because of Eddie. “When?”

“Halloween. Jonathon was taking all those photos and Eddie kissed you on the cheek for one of them. You seriously went bright as a tomato and there’s photo evidence.” Steve laughs.

You remember that night. You did blush, but you blamed it on the alcohol consumed… even though you only had half a beer at that point. You literally went hot all over and then you blamed it on not eating enough before drinking.

“Oh my god.” You say, mostly for yourself. Eddie had made you blush. He made you blush hard.

“Am I right?” Steve says smugly. You reach across, hitting Steve on the shoulder but he swats you away with a laugh.

“I hate to say it Steve, but maybe you’re onto something.” You smile in disbelief.

“You people have no faith in me.” Steve says, faking hurt.

All you can do is smile at him because things are finally starting to make a little more sense.

“Well, want to keep going or are you tapping out of feelings?” Steve says, quirking his brow at you, making you laugh.

“What are you? Dr. Harrington? PhD in love?” You joke, grabbing your own tape off the counter to fiddle with.

“Oh yeah. Took a lot of heartbreak to get my PhD but hey, if it helps at least one person, maybe it was all worth it.” He laughs.

The conversation lulls for a moment but you quickly break it, deciding you’re not tapping out of your feelings, how could you when you’re so close to understanding?

“Do you think it’ll ruin our friendship? Like what if it doesn’t work out?” You spit out your worst fear, but it doesn’t even phase Steve.

“Well, from what I heard from Robs, how’s your friendship going right now?” Steve says cautiously with a softness to his voice.

“Horrible. I’m miserable. He looks miserable, but I haven’t really talked to him since last Thursday and even then he was acting weird.” You frown thinking about how Eddie looked in the cafeteria, slouched in his seat at the table, eyes all sad, not even talking to the guys— and Eddie is a talker, it’s not fucking normal for him not to be talking.

“Right. And you’re still confused about if you have feelings for him?” Steve asks genuinely, curious but not prying.

“I mean yeah. Like, I pictured Eddie in my life forever, but I never even considered it in that way or really any way at all. I never put much thought into it, ever.” You say honestly.

“You don’t… you know.. think about him sexually.” Steve asks, grinning. You look down into your lap, shyly and you feel your cheeks heat but it’s an easy question you know the answer to.

“Truthfully? I always blamed it on him being so close to me. Like proximity planted all that shit in my head. And like… obviously I trust him and stuff so, like… if I thought about him like that, I always told myself it’s because I could trust him and that’s it.” You say, hiding in your hands. Steve grabs at your hands, before shooting you an amused smile. He’s so stupid, but this is fucking working, he’s actually making everything make sense.

“So you’re attracted to him?” Steve says once your blush cools.

“Eddie’s fucking beautiful. I’ve never been shy to say that. Well, except when he was, like, going through puberty, that was scary.” You say widening your eyes, remembering how gangly and extra clumsy he was right after his growth spurt, and the awkward squeaky voice he had for an entire summer before his voice dropped. Steve laughs at you, clearly enjoying the terror that flashes over your face when you remember the first time you found his porn stash that somehow moved in right along with puberty.

“And… correct me if I’m wrong but you’ve never had a boyfriend, right?” Steve says.

“You are correct.” You say sheepishly.

“And why’s that?” He asks. You shrug, starting to feel nervous.

“You don’t have to tell me. I’m not judging you for your choices, just might be helpful to think about?” Steve says softly, leaving it as an optional question with a way out if you so please.

“Yeah. I think, just… dunno. Whenever I’d think about going on a date, I’d always think about Eddie and that would kind of cut the idea short, if that makes sense? Not that I’d think about going on dates with him, just like, if I thought about going on a date it was more so, like… ‘well I usually hang out with Eddie so there’s no time’.” You ramble, nerves getting to you.

“Makes total sense. But you don’t think you associated Eddie with dating because…” Steve leads, leaving open space in his point for you to conclude.

“Because I want to date Eddie?” You say out loud, trying to piece together the puzzle that you’ve been recklessly throwing the pieces around to for far too long.

“Once again, I’m not trying to make you think any particular way. Just helping you get to your own conclusions. Think of me as an impartial mediator.” Steve says, standing up from his spot, starting to pile some tapes back into a cart. You stand too, starting to help him since you’ve stolen so much of his time.

“You really should consider getting a PhD or something, cause damn. Much to think about.” You laugh. “When did you get so wise.” You joke, pushing at his shoulder.

“Yeah. Definitely would never qualify for a PhD, but thanks.” Steve laughs, placing the final VHS from the counter into the basket. “Now, want to do returns with me? Either that or we leave them for Robin tomorrow and when she chews me out I'll totally blame it on you so…” Steve says, tilting his face at you, raising his brows waiting for your response.

“Already had Robin chew me out enough.” You smile, grabbing the return bin for Steve.

You ended up staying with Steve until close. After he dropped you off at home, you spent the whole night thinking about everything you talked through with Dr. Harrington.

Even after a night of contemplation, you kept thinking about it into the next day. You thought about it as you walked by yourself to school, sat through home room alone, ate lunch alone, walked home alone, and spent the evening alone.

You like Eddie.

It’s so fucking clear now.

I mean, every time you’ve ever pictured your future? It’s always been with Eddie. Every dirty thought, every wet dream, every time you touched yourself, it’s always been about Eddie. You don’t go on dates and you’ve never cared to, because you have Eddie. Eddie is your person though and through.

You don’t just like Eddie. You love him.

And when that thought crosses your mind, you feel sick. Feels like someone is both tickling you and also absolutely bludgeoning you from the inside out. Is this what butterflies are? Holy fuck.

When you think about Eddie spilling his guts to Jeff and Gareth in the drama room, you get that feeling and, god, is it horrible. But also… it makes you giddy?

You think about Eddie and suddenly you can’t wipe the stupid grin off your face. You think about his eyes, his nose, his stupid jokes, his laugh, and you get that fluttery feeling.

Deeper into the night you think about Eddie’s lips. You think about his hands, his arms, the way he always is touching you, the ways he could touch you, and you get a different feeling. Like a heat brewing in you. A desire, a neediness. Sure, you’ve thought things about Eddie, but never this purposefully. It makes you squirm in your bed until you get up and go grab water to cool yourself down.

You wake up befuddled with feelings. Like Steve was a fucking train conductor and you just got run over.

It doesn’t help that you remembered that you kind of fucked this up already. It’s Friday. It’s been a whole week since you overheard him.

It’s barely been 24 hours of you feeling so full of feelings. If Eddie was sure enough to admit he loved you to the guys, how long has he been feeling like this? If he’s felt anywhere near the way you feel now, he must have been drowning. And you were just letting him. And now, you’ve made him go a week, knowing that you know that he loves you, and you just went awol.

Your mind goes to what he said in the drama room.

“She’s killing me.”

You’ve been killing him. It didn’t make sense at first, but now it does. It makes perfect sense and it took you until 5PM on Friday night to understand it after a long day of skipping school, laying in bed, and stress baking. And you need to stop it.

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ty <3

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