#jokes aside all this to say that I love his party | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chewingcyanide · 7 months

Text

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 | 𝐣. 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

₊⊹ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 — secretly pining over someone is never fun—even less so when they’re your childhood best friend, and dating someone else.

₊⊹ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 —all the angst, jealousy, thoughts of inferiority, cursing, big sadness from reader over here, not proofread i got better things to do

₊⊹ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — jack hughes x fem!reader

₊⊹ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 — my valentine’s day jhughes special (albeit a day late ☹️), as promised! sorry it took me so long. couldn’t figure out how to end it. this is unapologetically self-indulgent. also not a wip, but i HAD to do it to em. i’m sorry if your name is brooke or bianca. i love you. promise. maybe we’ll make a part two, if yall like it enough!

₊⊹ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 — @dancerbailey3, @bellstwd, @kashee-h, @crazycat-ladys-blog, @brucewaynegfreal, @love4dlr, @jackhughesily, @leavethemonsteralive, @loveforaugust, @43hughes, @nathandoe, @choppedlamphandscowboy, @bunting58, @angelayse, @ru-kru, @sleepretreat, @nonsensical-nonsence, @maih23 (if your name is white, i couldn’t tag you!)

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Everyone knows the saying you never know what you have until you lose it. Truth was, you knew exactly what you had—you’d just never imagined you’d lose it.

You never imagined you’d lose him.

A shared childhood and mothers’ who found friendship with each other had brought you and Jack Hughes together, kept you glued even as skin stretched and futures diverged—where he’d gone on to be a star hockey player, you’d quietly came into adulthood, trekking through the difficulties of college.

In your younger years, Jack had always been there. Life of the party, a mirrorball everyone gravitated to for its decadent shine—you, contrastingly, felt like a sore thumb at parties, attending them only to see the smile on Jack’s face. Differing personalities and life routes aside, Jack was your person. The first person you called whenever you were sad, or happy, or bored. The one who knew all of your test scores first, who took hours long flights just to visit you during breaks in the season.

Distance nor time had left a lasting mark on your friendship, kept together by constant phone calls and texts. Whilst you remained imbedded in the hustle of Toronto, Jack was trapped in New Jersey—a gap that you closed every summer, when mutual desire to see one another (as well as his brothers) brought you and him to Michigan for a few months.

From childhood, to high school, to now—it had always been you two. Jokes passed in the years, swirling around with assumptions of the two of you ending up together, finally realizing it after years of proclaimed friendship. For Jack, it’d never been romantic. Loving and caring, a relationship he’d never trade for the world, but the intimacy ended there. Memories of him outwardly flirting with girls in front of you at bars or parties flashed in your mind any time you figured maybe; he’d never given any indicator that you were or would ever be more to him than his best friend.

For you? It was an embarrassingly different story.

College had stolen much of your time—left none for a love life. But truthfully, that didn’t much phase you.

Hookups, flings, boyfriends—all of them paled in comparison to Jack. A childhood crush perpetuated by maturation without loss of contact, Jack had just… always been there. Always a best friend, never a lover; the hanging axe of rejection was too dire a outcome for you to ever consider telling him. Killing a friendship you’d grown with would kill you. And maybe he felt the same way, maybe the kisses he reserved for the crown of your head and the guiding hand he kept on the small of your back meant something, but you couldn’t continue existing if they didn’t.

So, a dutiful friend, you kept quiet, spared the connection and suffered in unrequited love.

And it hadn’t really changed until Jack had gotten a girlfriend. In all your years of knowing him, he’d had a few—though they rarely lasted more than a handful of months, and a selfish and bitter part of you liked that. Sometimes they overstepped, viewed themselves above you in the ranking of Jack’s life; he made painfully clear they never would be.

And it felt good, to be that cherished. But then you remembered he didn’t actually love you and it felt a whole lot less impactful.

Not Brooke.

Brooke, a box-dye blonde with a less-than-stellar reaction to your friendship with her boyfriend, was unarguably beautiful—unapproachably so, someone you’d picture whenever thinking of the girl Jack would end up with. You knew it would never be you, but you hated that it was her, hated that it was finally cemented, the coffin wheeled out.

A friendship you’d cherished for years had been weathered down by the abrasive actions of his girlfriend. It left a bitter taste in your mouth; Jack never seemed privy to Brooke’s nonverbal dislike of you, and you never made comment of it. If Jack was happy, what did it matter? If you said anything, all you’d appear to be was a child throwing a tantrum, the attention torn from them. You refused to jeopardize Jack’s happiness, even if it meant shredding your own.

Brooke tolerated you; that was the best word you could think of. There was surely no excess of love, but you didn’t think she flat out despised you, either. Passive aggressive to the point of just being aggressive, snide looks whenever she didn’t think you could see, intentionally separating you from Jack whenever the two of you were talking—it all made you hate being around her, and by extension, him.

So when he’d invited you to dinner with him—and some of his teammates, a monthly ritual at his house—the knee jerk reaction had been to decline, lie, run while you were still free from the piercing glare of Brooke; because you knew she’d be there, clung to his side, as if you had any intention of taking him away.

… Well, you’d did have the intention. Never the will, so then again maybe she was right to hate you. Feelings you’d never act on, words you’d never say—none of it mattered. She had him. Not you. Never you.

You should’ve said no.

Pouting eyes and pleading lips caved you. As soon as you’d agreed, you’d regretted it—knew in your bones it would only serve to wedge the knife in your heart deeper, solidify the loss of a what you thought would be a lifelong partnership. Your platonic soulmate, twin flame pinched out by hateful fingers.

Getting ready for the dinner felt like preparing for a cage fight, where all night you’d have do endure blow after blow—them kissing, them touching, him loving her in a way you wished he’d love you.

Night blanketed the sky by the time you’d arrived to Jack’s home, shadows slipping by the window, shapes of people telling you that you were likely late—the stone in your stomach had slowed you monumentally. The torture was self-inflicted, you knew. There would be no pity when your heart finally gave out.

She did this to herself, they’d say. Hearts can only endure so much before they break.

Voices coalesced into one as you pushed open the door, welcomed by the familiar atmosphere of friendship and loud laughter. You’d completely forgotten to text Jack that you’d gotten here—and for some reason, as you crossed the threshold into the gaping space of his living room, you felt like an outsider. Sudden eyes landed on you like bullets, and all you saw was Jack—his side taken dutifully by Brooke, always beautiful, striking in a way you didn’t think you’d ever been.

Looking at her, it made sense why she was the one Jack chose. Why you hadn’t been. A best friend. Childhood acquaintance. Faded t-shirt he’d strung along for too many years, even as the design weathered away and the fabric weakened. He’d gotten a shiny new one, the novelty still in tact, yet he hadn’t let you go.

Some part of you, deep in the caves of your wounded heart, wished Brooke would ban him from your presence. Maybe then your hurt would lessen. You knew you’d never be able to let go on your own.

Jack’s eyes caught you, stood awkwardly in the mouth of the hallway. He attempted to stand, only for Brooke to tug him down by his t-shirt—the shirt you’d bought him for his birthday last year, impressed with two hearts holding hands. She said something to him, something low and hissed between clenched teeth. Before you could see his reaction, Nico was invading your space, arms winding around you.

“There she is!” he announced, the ground leaving your feet as he lifted you playfully. “We were waiting on you to eat. Sure do like to take your time.”

Residual bitterness faded at Nico’s words—Jack may have been your best friend, but years of being attached to him introduced you to his teammates; they were always kind, if a little overbearing. A big brother that toed the line of overprotective and well-wishing.

Grateful for the attention distractor, you allowed your shoulders to relax and lungs to decompress. The first cut at seeing Jack, still happily in love with Brooke, was already dealt; you just needed to get through the dinner, and not look like a hostage while doing so.

“Yeah, yeah,” you laughed, shoving Nico’s shoulder as he brought you towards where the others were gathered in the living room. “Make fun of me for driving like a grandma all you want, at least I’m safe.”

Not looking at Jack took more self control than you’d care to admit. Blurring in your peripheral, a mess of colors stacked atop one another, you knew if you glanced—saw the claim Brooke was staking for all to see—it would only make you want to leave. So you didn’t.

Luke was next to greet you, offering a pity-imbued smile. Despite never mentioning your affections for his older brother, you knew he knew; saw it in the way he would look at you, the frowns offered. In times when Brooke inadvertently talked you down, it was Luke who told her off, put balm on the wound.

A side hug and a soft smile—you barely were able to muster one yourself. “How have classes been?”

You graced Luke with an exasperated groan. “Terrible, thanks for reminding me. Economics is kicking my ass.”

Luke sat. You remained standing. A loose thread peeking from your sweatshirt seemed far more intriguing than eyes you were trying desperately not to meet.

“Tough luck,” remarked Luke, conversations reviving after the novelty of your arrival wore off. You recognized a couple of faces around you—Dawson, Jesper, Alexander, and John. Faces you’d become acquainted with in your years of being Jack’s friend.

The title felt a bitter reminder of your ceiling, never surpassing Jack’s best friend. Loved and cherished, a desired presence, just not how you wanted. Who were you to complain? It was better to be his friend than nothing at all; to have a little piece of him, proof that at one point, you’d mattered enough to get it.

You just weren’t sure if you did anymore.

Where once Jack’s name was a regular occurrence, flashing on your phone screen—texts, calls, FaceTimes, they all faded once Brooke came into his life. Movie nights on his couch, reruns of old films that you could quote down to the last line, stopped. You knew Jack cared enough to extend invites, but at this point, you figured it was more out of pity and shame than actual want of your company.

Beggars really couldn’t be choosers.

Eventually, everyone made their way into the dining room. Chairs lined a large wooden table, one chosen and haphazardly assembled by you and Jack when he’d first bought this house. Scratches imbedded in the finish sent flashes of dropped hammers and clumsy feet into your mind, memories that felt too far to touch.

Mind far afield, you sat down—somewhere between Luke and Nico, far enough from Jack to be inconspicuous but close enough to feel the sharp burn of his eyes. It was petty, you knew, to have still not greeted him. Not that Brooke would’ve likely even let you. A sadistic part of you wanted him to feel even a modicum of the agony that rattled you whenever you were forced to watch him and Brooke, wanted to wonder and question why you were so cold.

Then again, maybe he didn’t care.

Body detached from your mind, the last thing you expected was to be spoken to—least of all by Brooke. But there her grating voice was, verging on overuse, but you knew that was just how she talked. Chafing and annoying and awful—

“Still no boyfriend?” A venomous smile curled her lips; friendly to the untrained eye. You knew better.

Your fingers twitched. The food in front of you spoiled, appetite evaporated. Of course she asked that—both a jab and a reassurance; if you had a boyfriend, her relationship with Jack would be safe. Not that it wasn’t, regardless.

You wished you could scream at her, leap across the table and force her to hear your words: you’d never have Jack. Want him, yes. Spend years pining over a boy who looked to you like the sister he never had, absolutely. But actually have him, feel his love in every touch and kiss? No. That wasn’t on the cards for you; you’d folded long ago.

“Nope,” you drawled. The pressure of Jack’s stare caved you—you caught his eyes, eyebrows creased, the wrinkle of his forehead that made itself prominent whenever he was annoyed.

What did he possibly have to be annoyed about?

Catching Luke’s gaze only irked you further, alit the urge to push out of your chair and flee Jack’s home. Pity swelled in his eyes, the beginnings of a frown quirking down his lips. You didn’t want pity; didn’t want to feel like the entire world was in on some inside joke you’d never understand. Everyone saw it, your love for Jack. Saw the lovestruck comedy that was your life—girl loves boy, boy isn’t even aware of it, hilarity ensues.

Everyone but Jack. And honestly, that was for the best.

You didn’t think you’d be able to handle the frown when he found out. Jack Hughes, always kind, never malignant, searching for a way to politely turn down his best friend without taking an axe to the connection. Really, there would be no bloodless way to let it die—so you lived in moments between, where nothing felt impactful or important or real.

When Jack was without Brooke, you could almost imagine he was your Jack—the one who turned down every girl so that he’d be free to go to prom with you, the one who got banned from a restaurant for life for pouring a drink over your cheating ex-boyfriend’s head. The Jack who always protected you, always cared, even when all of his friends couldn’t understand it.

That Jack who currently hand his arm around the back of Brooke’s chair, shoulders touching—a casual thing, something you’d done with countless strangers, yet it felt impactful enough to make bile swim in your throat.

“Probably for the best,” Luke interjected after the conversation—if it even was that—between you and Brooke came to an awkward stalemate. “Guys are dicks.”

A tension somehow always existed whenever you were in a room with Brooke. One you never wanted, never fed into. Like a shadow, the morning mist, it hung thick as smog. Choking you, nearly forcing you from the room.

“You’re a guy,” you laughed weakly, offering Luke a pointed look.

“No one at college, then?” Nico piped up. You felt bad for not looking at him, but he was too close to Jack and Brooke—you didn’t want to see them.

Cozy, warm in a way you thought only you’d ever be with Jack. Familiar, united. Their relationship didn’t seem as superficial as his past ones had, woven together under the pretense of good sex and no real connection. Watching Jack love his new, perfect girlfriend made you physically ill; and maybe that was dramatic, maybe it made you a backwards person with failing morals—you couldn’t care anymore.

Years of hiding your love, months of watching his own be poured into a girl that wanted you out of his life—it wore you down to your bones, dangerously close to burning to ash.

“Most of them are… strange, to say the least,” you responded with a wince. And that was true; your major seemed to just attract men whose one quality was making women uncomfortable. “Plus, having a boyfriend would just distract me. Finals are coming up and I’m already worried about how I’m going to do on them.”

Luke scoffed. “Hookups exist.”

A wince followed Luke’s words. Eyes fell to where Jessica was rubbing her hand—Jack apologized, albeit half-heartedly. Confusion overcame you; had he squeezed her hand too tightly?

In the past, you’d had boyfriends. Not that they lasted very long. Somehow, there was always something wrong with them—something only Jack could see; he’d endlessly nitpick, nag, explain why your newest boyfriend wasn’t good enough for you.

They were too old, too uptight, not nice enough. Always something. And without fail, Jack was right—scarcely did they make it past the first date before some measly excuse fell from their lips. But maybe it wasn’t them; maybe it was you. So, with an aching heart refusing to connect with any other but Jack’s, you gave up. Delved headfirst into college work and stayed below the waves, even as they began to drown you.

All you offered in response to Luke was a shrug.

Conversation picked up then, thankfully fell away from you. Limelight sufficiently dimmed, you allowed yourself to watch Jack; a habit you’d never quite shaken, even in the embarrassing moments when he caught your peering gaze.

You weren’t sure exactly when you’d fallen in love with Jack—just that you had, and now you couldn’t touch the bottom of him. Water filled your lungs, suffocated you, but if drowning meant being near him, you’d happily do it. Dying in his platonic embrace seemed better than dying all alone.

Ruffled brown hair, the sort of charm that every boy-next-door seemed to possess, and clear blue eyes that shone every emotion like a transparent window to his soul—all of it made Jack Jack, the boy you loved, would admire even in moments he didn’t think he deserved reverence.

You’d seen it all: the self-deprecation after his failure of a rookie year, dwindling confidence, tears imbued with hurt and disappointment, frustration of someone who knew they were better. It was you who’d been by his side, proved an anchor to a person you couldn’t live without.

Yet he’d still chosen Brooke.

For most people, that would be the last step off the cliff, boneless body breaking against the canyon. Not you—so full of hope and dreams, undeterred by every sign the universe gave you. You weren’t his only, but at least you were one.

Jack’s lips parted into a smile, one you could tell was real—his kissed Brooke’s temple, pinched her on the side. An intimate moment in a crowded room. You felt almost as if you were trespassing, a stranger watching two people in love. Part of you didn’t even associate that boy as Jack, because you couldn’t understand how he could love someone so averse to you, so… mean. But then again, it wasn’t about you.

It was about him. Accommodations had been made for years—leaving parties early because you were uncomfortable, blowing off his guy friends to comfort you after a bad date, scrapping his wants and his plans because of something to do with you.

He was probably sick of it. Sick of you, dictating what he could and couldn’t do. Who he could and couldn’t date. Because who cared if Brooke hated you; Jack loved her, despite it all. And that was what made dread swirl into a storm in your heart, ribs nearly cracking under the rate it was thundering at.

Abruptly, you stood. Felt the chair nearly topple. Eyes came to you—Jack’s friends. Yours, yes, but Jack’s foremost. You were just intruding, butting into a life that no longer fit you. Time had passed, the wishful minds of children grown into adulthood. He didn’t owe you anything anymore, especially when all you were was a storm cloud over his parade.

Just as soon as you had, Jack stood, concern clear in his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

Your tongue felt like lead. “Nothing—nothing, sorry. I’m—I need to use the restroom.”

You didn’t wait much longer before leaving the room.

Air felt scarce, lungs punctured and deflating quicker than you could patch the holes. Clumsily, you pushed open the door to the bathroom, steadied your shaking hands on the edge of the sink. Looking at yourself, reflection marred by the onset of tears, all you could do was compare—compare to Brooke, to every girl Jack had ever wanted, ever liked, ever loved.

Was it their features, doughy lips that worshipped him in a way you didn’t? Was it their bodies, womanly and free in a way you didn’t like to be? Or was it deeper, were their souls crafted from the same light, in a way you’d always thought your own had been with Jack’s?

Idiot, fool, dreamer—you were all of it. Like a lap dog, bird in its teeth, you always returned, remained dutifully at Jack’s side for the moment he might open the screen door and finally let you in.

Brooke had every right to hate you. Perceptive in a way Jack wasn’t, she saw what everyone else did—the lovesick eyes, foolish faith chaining you to him, an unrealized desire that would never be acted on. Had you been in Brooke’s place, you would’ve hated yourself as well.

Water poured from the faucet, gathered in your cupped palms. Attempting to desecrate any evidence of tears, you gently splashed the water in your face—went to dry it when you heard the sound of the front door creaking open.

“Oh, thank God you’re here, Bee.”

Cold crept up your spine. Eavesdropping was wrong—you knew that, yet still found yourself leaning against the bathroom door to catch Brooke’s words.

“What’s going on?” came the response, likely the voice of Bianca, Brooke’s best friend. You’d met her once at a game (met was a loose word; she’d given you a snide look and taken to ignoring you the entire time).

Brooke’s voice lowered to the point where you were forced to strain to hear her speak. “You know Jack’s little pet?”

A lapse. Your heart seized, taken by some concoction of shame and surprise.

“No.”

“Yes!” responded Brooke. “She’s fucking everywhere. I asked Jack not to invite her tonight, and lo and behold—”

“Wait, I thought you talked to Jack?”

“I did.” Vexation laced every letter. “I told him it made me uncomfortable how close they were, how she was always around, blah blah. He got defensive, but he said he’d talk to her.”

“Clearly not,” Bianca muttered. “Look, I wouldn’t worry about it. They’re childhood friends, yeah? He probably feels like he has to stay her friend, or something. I mean, Jack’s a good guy, he wouldn’t intentionally hurt anyone; if he dropped her, he’d look like a douche. I’m sure she’ll get the hint eventually.”

Footsteps began, voices fading along with them. “I fucking hope. It’s honestly pathetic.”

Blood roared in your ears, drowned out the sound of your beating heart—if it was even beating anymore. Something bitter and hot invaded your airways, lashed like whips against your flesh. It was no secret Brooke disliked you, disliked the closeness of you and Jack, but to hear it, the vicious way it fell from her lips—it made your gut twist and constrict, pushing bile towards your throat.

Pathetic. They thought you were pathetic, hopelessly waiting, like a dead plant praying for flowers that would never come. Lovelorn, seeking affection that only came by way of friendship and never more; they were right, and it became evident with a strike of lightning to your body.

Is that truly how Jack felt? Was he waiting for you to give up, so to spare you the hurt of being let down? Had you become baggage? Chained to him, the memory of childhood the only thing keeping you relevant, when times were less impactful and his life didn’t center around being a professional athlete. The stain of youth, remaining only for its joyful memory; that’s all you were now—a memory.

Just like your love, it seemed everyone saw Jack’s hints but you. Rose-colored lenses blurred everything but what you wished to see; of course you missed them, ignored them so your narrative remained intact.

God, you were an idiot. A fucking idiot.

Head pounding, the squeeze of an oncoming migraine rattling your brain, you opened the bathroom door. Felt like a trapped bird all the way back to the table—you just had to get through dinner, only an hour or two, so as to not raise any suspicion, and then you could fade from Jack’s life.

Not that he’d notice. He hadn’t even spoken to you tonight, though no fault of his own; Brooke kept her claws deep, and it was clear he didn’t want to risk an argument. Not that you could blame him—she was his girlfriend. Her. Not you. He didn’t owe you anything.

Conversations filled your ears, ostracized you—every time you had opened your mouth before, it had felt wrong, the scratch on a vinyl everyone skipped over. You saw him first—noticeably tense, chair a bit further away from Brooke that it had been earlier. Tensed forehead, hands balled on the table; you longed to ask what was wrong, as you were used to doing. But you imagined talking to him, and it somehow felt wrong, a peasant addressing a king.

Then, your eyes fell to your seat.

No longer empty, occupied now by Bianca, who was talking casually with Brooke, as if her actions hadn’t changed your entire perception of the situation. There were no more seats. No more room. The metaphor wasn’t lost on you, hit with the same sting of antiseptic on a wound—there wasn’t any more room for you at the table, just as there was no room for you in Jack’s life.

Maybe this was always meant to happen. Childhood didn’t remain forever, and it seemed, neither was your friendship. You’d always wondered why Jack had chosen you, someone so dissimilar to himself and his friends. Eventually, you made peace with it. His friendship was a balm to everything negative. Now… here you were again, more ostracized than ever.

What were you supposed to do? The long haul wasn’t meant to have an end.

Everyone was looking at you now. Stage fright, you lost your speech, thousands of eyes from a crowd looking at you, spotlight centered on your face, and you couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t—

Blue eyes found you, stood stonily at the entrance of the dining room. Jack’s eyebrows knitted, confused as to why you were still stood. When he saw Bianca, his lip curled. Frustration sparked, bemusement painted over. Once more that protective streak flared, something you were so used to—it had once felt the greatest trophy, proof that the Jack Hughes cared enough to stand up for you. It felt a sore consolation now, a reminder that, as always, you’d be the meek girl from his childhood he was forced to drag along, defend, shield from his new life that he fit into perfectly, that you spilled out from.

“Get up.”

Then, the attention went to him.

Brooke glanced at her boyfriend, annoyance flashing on her face. Their conversation paused. “What?”

Jack nodded towards Bianca. “She took her seat,” he explained in a clipped voice. “Get up.”

Brooke rolled her eyes. “Jack, it’s not a big—”

“It is,” he interrupted. Tension sparked in the air like a misfired firework. “She needs to sit and Bianca took her place, so—”

“It’s fine!” The words spilled out before you could second guess them. They came out raw and pained and everything you didn’t want to appear as; pity pooled from everyone, that sort of second-hand pity you saw on strangers faces when you’d lose your footing and fall.

It was too much. Pins dug into your skin, all of a sudden too tight. You needed to leave. Now, before your bones crumbled and heart gave out and finally everything burst.

“I—um, I should probably get going, anyway,” you said, nodding as if trying to be convincing. “With finals comin’ up I should get in as much studying as I can.”

Determination was something you’d always admired about Jack; it only irked you now. He stood, shrugged off Brooke’s outstretched hand and came to stand before you, and God—it was a disservice to not admire him, even as annoyance creased his eyes and drew inwards his lips. Beauty, in such a raw form, it startled you. Growing up, he’d always been the center of everyones attention. The hockey prodigy, the first overall draft pick, the franchise player for the Devils.

You? You’d been nothing special. Yet he’d still chosen you. And here he was, apparently doing it again—but why? Why when he had a beautiful girlfriend and a perfect life and fun friends did he always come back, when clearly you were no more than a burden?

You tried not to seem spiteful. You did. But it was so hard to hide your wounds and ignore their pain. He may not have seen them, but they were unfortunately still there. And it seemed they always would be.

“You can’t,” he said, searched your gaze—he’d always been able to see straight through you, with such simplicity it frightened you. You tried to shuttered your expression, hide your pain. It wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have. “Dinner’s just started—”

“Really, J, it’s fine.” Heat bored into your face where you knew Brooke was staring, daring you to express any deeper connection with Jack past the sheltered friendliness you were currently forcing.

You weren’t going to budge. Jack saw that, and so he sighed and glanced out the window. “I’ll drive you home.”

Oh, God. Nothing was ever easy. Pushing and pushing and pushing until you weren’t sure you even wanted to get up anymore, to even try. Every time you did, right back down you went, encapsulated by everything Jack.

Freedom felt a forgotten thing. You couldn’t remember a time when you didn’t love Jack, when he wasn’t at the forefront of your mind, main star of the play.

And honestly, you were tired. Tired of wishing for something that would never happen. Tired of being viewed as the shackle around Jack’s wrist. Just tired.

“No need,” you muttered noncommittally, saw the way Jack’s face twisted with concern and confusion and everything you didn’t want to see. “It’s your dinner, J. With my grandma driving, I’ll get home safe.”

The attempt at a joke didn’t land. Smile didn’t even begin to twitch his lips. “It’s dark outside,” he stated, an obvious fact that held no weight for anyone but you and him. “I always drive you when it’s dark.”

That was true enough; your inability to see properly at night meant Jack became your chauffeur, not that he ever complained—even still, it was another thing he did for you, time sacrificed to accommodate you. Prepared to leave his own dinner, his own girlfriend, just to make sure you didn’t have to do something you were uncomfortable with. Conceptually, it was sweet, a sort of gesture that would’ve normally made your heart soar. Now? It made you feel like a burden, an incapable little girl still hiding in the shadow of her protector, afraid of the sting of daylight.

No more.

“I’m going to be fine,” you reassured. Jack didn’t appear convinced—he never was satisfied when it came to you, to your safety, unless he was directly involved. “Stay and have fun.”

“What if—”

“Let her go, babe.”

Brooke’s voice proved the nail in the coffin; a part of you heard the undertone of excitement shot through her words, the possibility of your leave alleviating any annoyance your presence had brought. Without you, Jack’s attention would be fully on her. Without you, he wouldn’t have to concern himself on whether you were having fun and if you were okay.

You. You. You.

You’d considered yourself Jack’s anchor, the grounding of his mind—unfortunately, you’d forgotten an anchor also keeps a thing in place, forcing inactivity.

Let her go.

It rang like a death knell, struck sharp as a poisoned dart, invisible but so unmistakably fatal.

Gathering what remained of your dignity, you grabbed your purse off of your—Bianca’s—chair, caught the commiseration shining in Luke’s eyes like a tarnished trophy. It only stung, reminded you that you needed pity.

Before you could flee the room like a scolded dog, Jack caught your wrist. Heat bloomed, a fever rushing to your head—his simple touch made you sick with want and need and something deeper that would never be realized or fostered. Something you had to let die.

“Text me when you’re home,” he said softly. Fingers gently squeezed your wrist. Where once you’d feel comforted, you just felt trapped. “Please.”

Not trusting your words, all you did was nod.

Honestly, you’d expected some dark cloud to cover you when finally you decided to move on. A procession of funeral goers flocking like crows, unable to understand why you’d abandoned a years-long friendship over something insignificant. Over words spewed from hateful lips.

But it wasn’t what you’d overheard. Deeper, a more sharp knowledge that even if Jack loved you, held you closer than anyone in his circle of friends, he’d never want you in the way you desired. And for a while, that was okay. Because he existed separate of everything—and then came Brooke, and it all crumbled.

You could handle him not loving you. You couldn’t, however, handle him loving someone else so openly.

Street lights blurred behind tears, a mess of streaky lights like a watercolor canvas. Flashes of nights when Jack would drive you home, insisting on taking the wheel so that you didn’t have to toe out of your comfort zone, they haunted you like a inescapable film reel on repeat in your mind. Memories fogged by lost youth, angry words from Jack’s lips as he’d stand up for you—never a party person, denounced for draining the fun. Jack never let those insults slip lip before he was barking at whoever said it.

A responsibility. A burden. The lines had become blurred in recent years.

The latter seemed more fitting.

Through a barrier of tears, you were able to send Jack a text as your car rolled to a stop in the parking lot.

at my dorm

j :)

ok good. u ok? u seemed off @ dinner

Fingers hovered over your screen. Make movements to draft a text. Nothing seemed sufficient.

You let the text stale. Sit stagnant on your phone. Jack would likely worry, eventually call—you just wanted to fall into a void and never return. Not after the mess you’d made of dinner.

The mess you’d made of your life.

Making a ghost of yourself was far more difficult than you’d thought it would be.

Incessantly, Jack had texted you, called you—you didn’t answer any of them. Silence felt a balm to your shame. Selfish, you knew, to just ghost Jack without offering any explanation, but nothing would be sufficient, not without souring the connection you were hoping would die without pain.

Cowardice, craven, pathetic—you knew you were all of it. To you, you were giving Jack a chance to pull back, to fizzle the friendship of his own accord. Maybe then it would’ve stung less, if the desire of its end was reciprocated, mutual. As it were, it was not.

Even with your withdrawal, Jack still tried. Shot texts, called and punctuated them with voicemails, sent you TikToks and Snaps and everything he would normally do if everything was fine; but it wasn’t. And you knew he knew, could sense the urgency in his attempts at communication.

You felt dirty, filthy with shame and guilt.

Despite your best efforts, you didn’t appear as unaffected as you hoped. While your insides were shredding themselves, you tried valiantly to paint over your visage with the normal happy-go-lucky smile you always wore. Most people, if they noticed, didn’t comment on it.

Unfortunately, Kaylen did notice.

Since your freshman year of college, Kaylen had been your roommate—low maintenance, intelligent to the point of making you stupid without even trying. As such, she was far more perceptive than you gave her credit for.

There’d been times you confided in her about your feeling for Jack, sought out advice that never seemed good enough. Because no one but yourself could fix the valley that had split between Jack and you. You could seek outward help all you wanted, but nothing would change unless you did something—and, really, you weren’t sure that was even a good idea anymore.

Two days of moping resulted in Kaylen’s intervention.

“Get up.”

Sunlight bled through your shut eyes, forced a wince. Hands rolled you onto your back, the somewhat stiff mattress of your bed providing a measly cushion. Sleep intruded on, your hands extended, attempted to push away the figure you knew what trying to rile you.

“Go away,” you grunted, throat thickened by sleep and other terrible emotions.

“No,” Kaylen hissed. When finally you opened your eyes, her squinted expression invaded your vision. “Look, I’ve let you be miserable for two days, but it’s getting ridiculous. What the hell happened with you and loverboy?”

A jolt nearly paused your heart mid-beat. Thinking about Jack stung in a way you didn’t like to admit, mainly due to the fact that it was painfully embarrassing that he had such a control over you.

“Don’t call him that,” you muttered, bit your tongue to stop anything else from spilling out.

Kaylen’s eyebrows quirked. “So it is about him?”

Nails scraped your lungs. “No—yes—fuck,” you moaned, sitting up and balancing your forehead on bent knees. “It’s… all fucked up, K. I don’t know what to do.”

A sigh left her lips. You felt the bed dip as she climbed beside you. “I can help if you tell me.”

And so you did, started at the beginning of dinner to the end, as you left like a dog defeating in a cage match, heart crying blood. Comforting circles were rubbed into your thigh, but all they did was remind you how Jack used to trace shapes onto your leg, or arm, or back—how he touched you, just to know you were there, with him. He said it placated him.

It was shameful, how bile teased your throat even imagining it.

Rationally, you knew everything was your doing. Loving Jack, torturing yourself by being in his presence whilst he focused his attention on his girlfriend. Expecting any semblance of affection or intimacy even as another held his heart, branded her name over your own. It was always going to happen—knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less.

When finally you finished, the conclusion of your mournful, self-pitying tale followed by the sting of unwanted tears, Kaylen’s thoughtful silence waned. Her lips pursed, fingers twitching. You expected her to berate you; what had you expected, stupid girl? He has a girlfriend!

Instead, Kaylen hugged you. “Shit, babe, I’m sorry,” she murmured, pulled back with that pitiful smile you’d seen one too many times—one you’d be fine with if you never saw again. “He cares about you—”

“Not how I care about him, though,” you finished, and Kaylen gave a weak nod.

“I mean, if you told him what Brooke and her little bitch of a friend said, I’m sure he’d leave her. He’s done more for less.” That much was true. Regardless of whose lips it came from, Jack didn’t tolerate disrespect towards you—cut long time friends off for assuming they had any authority to speak poorly of you.

And you knew—knew with the same certainty that you knew your own name—that Jack would break up with Brooke if he knew how she’d spoken of you.

That should’ve made you giddy. Bursted bright light in your chest at the prospect of having Jack to yourself once more. Instead, it made you feel heavy, sand packed into your bones. Who were you to invade his happiness? If he’d chosen Brooke, so be it.

Sure, she’d disparaged you, but Jack’s life wasn’t yours to dictate anymore. If he wanted Brooke, he’d have her, until he decided to leave—not because you decided for him.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Eyelids heavy, the residue of late-night tears remaining on the skin, you felt the fight leave you. Kaylen frowned. “I just want it all to be over.”

She didn’t look convinced. “Seriously? You’re giving up on an eight year friendship because of something some dickface said about you? I thought Jack meant more to you than that.”

Kaylen’s words stung. Made you defensive, because she was right—you were giving up and you did care about Jack, but the pain had become too much. “It’s not—it’s harder to explain than that. He’s outgrown me, K. Everyone can see it but him. I’m an obligation, a burden, and yeah, maybe he loves me as a friend and maybe he wants me around, but his friends never have—his fucking girlfriend doesn’t. And at this point, I just want it to end, I want him to be happy without the conditions of making me happy.”

Silence followed. Contemplation showed clear on Kaylen’s face. You could tell, even without her words, that she didn’t agree—but, she didn’t comment on that. Rather, she placed a hand on your leg and squeezed.

Just like Jack always did.

“It’s your life, babe,” she conceded. “And if you want to do this, I’m not going to stop you—but you have to be content with it.” She gestured to you, the nest of blankets and red-rimmed eyes. “Because this? This isn’t happiness over a good choice. You’re miserable without him, and it’s been barely two days. Think about what you’re doing before it’s irreversible.”

With that, Kaylen got up and went to her own bed, and neither of you made comment of it for the rest of the day.

Her words came again and again like a fractured turntable. Of course you were miserable—Jack had been a constant in your life for eight years, consistently preserving your peace, including you when you’d never felt more like an outsider. Happiness was synonymous with Jack, his smile, his presence, him.

Did you regret your decision? Yes, and no. You regretted the way you’d gone about it. The petty silence, ignoring a person who’d made your younger years bearable. Your friendship deserved a better death than that, a reason rather than just… fading from existence, as if it never mattered in the first place.

That wasn’t the message you wanted conveyed, and so with fingers unsteadied by aftershocks, you texted Jack.

You weren’t sure how you’d explain, if you could tiptoe around the actual reason. Maybe you couldn’t, and maybe that was okay.

i’m so sorry for everything. i’ll explain in person. can we meet up?

Your response came half a second later. As if he were waiting. That selfish part of you prayed he had been.

j :)

ofc. my place tn?

yeah. that’s good. brooke won’t be upset?

Asking after her made you want to puke, but you knew it was necessary—she didn’t like Jack even breathing near you, having an entire sit down conversation with him was certainly out of the question.

Thrice, the little text bubble appeared and disappeared on your phone screen. You could sense the apprehension without any background knowledge.

j :)

not a problem. we broke up.

It was shameful, the backwards type of pleasure that brought you.

Maybe you were a terrible person. A terrible friend. You tried to reason that it wasn’t wrong to love someone, to wish they were yours.

shit j. i’m sorry

j :)

i’m not. i’ll see u tn. 7:30 work? have dinner w the guys.

yeah, that’s fine. see you soon, j.

j :)

be safe. i’ll text you when i’m home.

The hard part wasn’t even over, and your heart was already breaking in two.

Sweat beaded at your palms, the cold claws of apprehension raking down your spine. Countless times you’d been stood here, facing the lifeless beige of Jack’s apartment door. This time, however, you stood here knowing it was the last time. A silent farewell to familiarity, the ties finally cut. Jack would fight, you would cry, and maybe he’d be able to change your mind—it seemed such an unlikely outcome that it calcified every inhale in your throat.

Shaking hands rapped the wooden door, where behind would come the execution of a friendship you’d held like a crutch for years upon years. Your childhood had died, and maybe it would’ve been better had it been left there as well, so as to spare you this heart-rending pain.

Even still, you wouldn’t have traded those years for the world—everything they taught you, through pain and happiness. It made you who you were, brought you to his doorstep with melancholy eyes and a failing heart.

Footsteps echoed on the other side of the door, urgent in a way that picked up your heart rate. The next moments you imagined with brutal clarity—Jack’s hopeful gaze, blue in a way no one else’s ever had been, the soft slope of his nose you teased him for, scrunched whenever he was particularly concerned. How he’d usher you in, hear your words, plead for a moment to explain, and then admit his love for you.

That was how you dreamt it. Unsurprisingly, it was not how it went.

Instead of the door opening to reveal the man you’d love for a lifetime, the squealing hinges were followed by a face that nearly knocked you backwards. Previous indifference smeared into flat-out disdain as Brooke’s eyes caught your figure, engulfed in one of Jack’s faded hoodies and likely disheveled in a way she’d never experienced herself.

Arrows punctured your lungs, sole your breath and defaulted your barely beating heart. Brooke was here. At Jack’s apartment. After they’d supposedly broken up. Had he lied? Was he tricking you, making you the fool? He never would, you knew that, but your wounded mind spun falsities to perpetuate your pain, as if punishment for trusting him in the first place.

“What do you want?” Brooke grunted, leant against the doorframe. Lips twitched into a smirk, the smile of the victorious.

You’d never considered yourself a violent person, but the urge to punch her in the teeth itched your fists. “Is Jack here?”

Her face fell. Something dark flashed in her face—she hesitated a moment, tossed a look over her shoulder. “Yes.”

The curt response was better than nothing, you supposed. “Right, well, can you tell—”

Brooke ran a hand through her hair. Adjusted the clasp of her necklace. “We were kind of in the middle of something. Come back later?”

The axe struck down.

Gravel filled your throat. Suffocated you. If Brooke knew the affect of her words, for once it didn’t show on her face. Years of life had taught you many things, drug you through agonies you wouldn’t relive for anything, yet somehow, this was the worst pain.

To be betrayed, trust snapped by a single action, it stung. Wormed venom in your veins and contaminated your bloodstream, poisoning your heart. Realistically, Jack hadn’t actually done anything wrong. He was allowed to hook up with other girls, to love them—he had, for years.

That wasn’t the issue.

No, it was the fact that he’d set a time, invited you over, and somehow forgot? Or had he set it all up, just to rub it in your face, get his lick-back for your prolonged silence towards him? Either way, it hurt, hurt like a bitch.

Made stone, all you did for a moment was blink at Brooke before a voice called from the background, “Who is it?”

Jack.

Fright found you then, broke away your shell of stone. You couldn’t let him see you, the dog wishing once more to come in from the cold. If he’d planned it, and saw you, he knew he’d won. If he hadn’t planned it, then he realized that—irrecoverably—he fucked up. Both choices felt like a criminal trial you didn’t want any part of.

“I—um—have a good night,” you rushed out, feet stumbling over themselves as you practically ran away from Jack’s door.

So much for closure.

So much for being broken up.

Maybe this was your sign. The one you needed to finally pull away.

Because Jack Hughes didn’t love you. Not past platonic soulmates—a relationship stained with past memories, ones that made both of you incapable of letting go, even as you outgrew it.

You were done being second best. Done trying to squeeze into a place you didn’t fit anymore.

If Brooke was Jack’s choice, so be it. You didn’t want any part of it anymore.

1K notes · View notes

sweetnans · 1 month

Text

Stuck in the moment || Bakugo, K. (pt.7)

Pairing: fuckboy Bakugo/hopelessly romantic fem. reader

summary: You made a mistake, a huge mistake. You fucked the most cocky, annoying, bastard, fuckboy you knew. Bakugo Katsuki. And that fact was against all your beliefs. Now, after the rumor (truth) spread like a pandemic virus in college you'll have to live with the stormy consequences of your acts and whatever trash was brought with it.

a/c: Hey, it's me again. Here we are in a new series I plan to continue. I really hope you enjoy it. I put my favorite man in action (bakugo) being a selfish bastard that you would love eventually and I couldn't help to put another "trope" I'm a sucker for (guardian/father figure Aizawa) I'm so sorry if that bothers you. Once again, I'm sorry if I misspelled something, English is not my first language. (Not proofread yet)

Smut ahead, minors do not interact

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6♡

m.list

The date with Todoroki was breathing inches away from your neck, and your ankle was far away from being completely healed. Recovery girl was making all her efforts to put it back in place, but the swell and the red were difficulting the process.

"Tell me you can fix this," you begged to the woman.

"Don't worry, I'll have it done before you know it, lay down and relax, it'll make it easier" She said smiling warmly at your state.

You slept the equivalent of four hours in the span of two days. You were beat, so the sentence lay down and relax was sent from heaven.

You did lay down and relax for six hours, and when you woke up, your ankle was wrapped in bandages and a certain someone was by your side.

"How was the date?" He asked.

"There's no respect anymore, I just opened my eyes," you joked, stretching your arm for a glass of water that you knew Recovery Girl left in the table. He grabbed the glass and handed it to you. "Thanks"

"So?" He was eager to know.

"Well, aside from my ankle, it was pretty nice. He behaved like a gentleman if that's what concerns you. " You gulped the water down your sore throat.

Aizawa watched you carefully. Since almost 5 years, he turned from teacher to a father, but it was a daily challenge mantain two young girls that were in different stages in their life.

"Mrs. Bakugo called me to congratulate me for having a really nice and well-mannered daughter. I know she wasn't talking about the unhinged teenager busting my windows with indie music. " He smirked playfully, and you rolled your eyes.

"That's odd," you said, accommodating yourself in the bed. "Since when does she prefer indie music?"

"Nice try on making me forget about the elephant in the room," he stated, leaning on his chair a bit. "So, are you going to tell me what happened? Or do I have to find out from someone else, like when Mrs. Bakugo told me that my daughter sprained her ankle at her party?"

"There's nothing to explain, actually. We were about to go home when a slow dance crossed in front of us, so he said hey one last dance? And I said yeah, why not? And then tragedy, " you puked your words out.

"Yeah, that matches the description" he hummed in response.

"What description?"

Talking to Aizawa was always so cryptic. You just had six hours of sleep. Your head fetl like a feather, and he started to play around with hidden clues and schemes of secrets.

"Oh, before I forget, your phone is off, Bakugo started calling non-stop, and he was getting in my nerves,"

He said like he was parting ways, but he didn't lift or move a single muscle to get up of his seat. It was a trap.

"Why didn't you pick up?" You asked fetching your phone to turn it on. Jirou would definitely be there with hundreds of texts unanswered.

"Oh, I didn't have the chance before he appeared at the door," he shrugged, pointing at his back with his thumb

You were so mesmerized by the logo of your phone and disoriented that you felt like you didn't catch exactly what he said.

"Come again?" You squinted your eyes at him. "What did you just say?"

"Bakugo and me had a very pleasant chat"

Oh, he was enjoying your suffering. What was happening to the world that all of a sudden, it was the funniest thing to mess up with you?

"You didn't," you said at the same time that he was nodding.

According to what he said, when he saw you in the dress the day before, you were actually pissing yourself to know, but the thought of it came with an immeasurable amount of denial. What could they have talked about? Did you or did you not want to know?

"Relax," he said, stopping the cartwheels in your head. "He told me how it happened." he glanced at your now normal ankle. "And that he was very sorry that he couldn't stop it. That's why I said it matched the description, what you said, and what he said, but do you know what doesn't match the description?"

You were almost afraid to ask. He had his purpose, and you led him exactly where he wanted you. Being a parent wasn't easy, but Aizawa knew damn well how to play his cards when it came to his daughters.

You looked at him, waiting for him to continue the interrogation. He sighed defeated.

"Eri told me about your date with Todoroki, I thought that maybe she was confused, but then I realized when Bakugo told me that he invited you at the last minute, that there wasn't any chance for Eri to know that piece of information even as nosy as she is"

Busted.

After what Jirou said that morning and with Aizawa looking at you, not with disappointment eyes, more like with I don't understand eyes is that you realized that you were in fact betraying at yourself.

You wouldn't lie. Last night, you were just a twisted ankle away to kiss him.

You were madly in love with the concept of love, and even though all this Bakugo mess started like a mistake, it suddenly evolved to something else. You were catching feelings for the bastard. And you couldn't deny it anymore.

He also played his cards very well, being the stubborn asshole who eagerly wanted to get to know you to the point of pushing you out of your comfort zone to in fact, have a good time to him. The one night stand was surely a mistake, your first time doing something so reckless and so unlike you. You wanted to get rid of him because he was the walking reminder of something that didn't describe you at all, but then he turned it in a way you didn't see coming.

Does he feel the same for you? Doubtful. It wasn't a secret that he was used to those encounters you wanted to avoid. The adamant behavior of getting your attention was just the ego boost he needed after you completely flicked him off.

You liked him. As a friend and with real and not so friendly feelings, but you weren't sure that his acts towards you had the same meaning.

"I know what you're thinking, and you're totally right," you said. There was nothing to be ashamed of exploring your options. Todoroki was hot. He was kind, but you had your mind wrapped around another man, and it wasn't fair for him.

"I mean, he's a nice guy, but after my secret conversation with Bakugo, it seems he's not playing around when It comes to you"

You rolled your eyes, and his brows furrowed.

"Just because he wanted to be heroic doesn't mean he's into me. Isn't that the purpose of this school? Acting like heroes when someone is in distress?"

"Yes, it is, but believe, calling the victim twenty times in one hour doesn't seem like the school purpose to me"

Oh, the world was ending. He was delusional too.

"He felt guilty because he handed me the heels," you murmured, trying to convince him and yourself that he wasn't into you that way.

"I'm just pointing at the facts," he stated, smacking his palms on his knees. "About the Todoroki date, are you sure you want to go in that state? You can always say I didn't let you go"

That state had different meanings. One of them was about the now normal but partly healed ankle, and the other was about your train of emotions that was ready to crash.

Dadzawa always setting the bar higher and breaking the daddy issues.

"It's okay. I can't leave him hanging, and besides, I can always turn a romantic date to something completely platonic. I'll give it another try when I get hold of my feelings again, " you smiled through the tumultuous feeling of something breaking slowly inside of you.

You were stuck. Stuck in the moment where you don't know what to do with your feelings, and also, you don't want to hurt somebody else for the sake of it.

...

Bakugo had a rough night. He woke up several times at night wondering of your state. He paced through his bedroom, feeling extremely guilty for not taking you straight to the emergency room. At the first light, he started texting you. The double check stared at him but never changed its colors. Shit.

He started calling after it. The first times the waiting tone received him and made him curse under his breath, and then after what it felt like the twentieth time, the call didn't even get past the first beep. Disconnected.

That was the sign he needed to get his jacket, put on some trousers and go to your room.

"Oh my god, stop it," Jirou spoke through the cloaed door inside, annoyed with the loud knocking that reverberated in the hallway. "What do you want?" She said before realizing that Bakugo was in front of her.

"Where is she?" He asked, gasping for air. He ran from his building to yours and took the stairs in both of them.

Jirou was visibly asleep before he came. She had a lousy shirt and she was barefooted.

"Uhm I took her to recovery girl, and she swore that she would be fine," she said, glaring at the windows. "But now that you mention it, what time is it?"

"It's almost nine," he said, grabbing his phone to check the clock.

"Jeez, I took her at six this morning. She hadn't texted you?"

Jirou walked inside the door, and Bakugo followed. Your bed was made, and there were wrinkles on the duvet. He realized that you didn't catch an eye last night and felt guiltier than ever.

"She didn't text me either"

The state of Jirou was the same as you. Barely three hours of sleep did its damage on her face, and the bags under her eyes were really showing it.

"Don't worry, I'll go check on her, and I'll text you. Go back to sleep ears. " He threw the nickname to level the kindness so unlike him.

Jirou raised her eyebrows at him, very surprised and now surely convinced on what team she was.

The way to the infirmary was long enough to gather his thoughts about you, what to say, and how to approach the fact that you almost kissed last night. He was head over heels over you, and even though he was known to be a full player who liked to mess around with chicks, the gossip about it wasn't totally like that. He never had the need to dissipate the rumors because he realized that if he'd say something about everything that people invented about him he would spend all his college years trying and convincing the people to believe him and that wasn't who he was. He acted by instinct, he made the rules, and he would never follow a bunch of assholes who got nothing better to do than to spread useless information about him.

He never felt the urge to see someone in a desperate way that he was feeling at that moment. He was basically running to get to you through the crowded hallways, bumping into people's shoulders.

How did this happen? A week ago, you were just a pain in the ass, a little and invisible splinter in his skin that bothered more than hurt. He didn't know you very well, but when it came to you, he felt overprotective, he felt like he needed to see you more, to know every little piece of information about your life, damn he didn't even know your backstory aside from stripes of details that people said about you but nothing else, he wanted more and he would do anything to guarantee his stay in your life.

"Bakugo"

The voice of the man who was his teacher on his annoying ages startled him. He was outside the infirmary, his arms crossed over his chest and with the same exhausting look on his eyes.

"Mr. Aizawa" Bakugo felt like all the air of his lungs was pulled out.

"She's fine. She's resting" straight to the point like always. "Her ankle is healed too"

"That's very good news, sr," he said, stuffing his hands on his pockets.

"Yeah," Aizawa nodded. "I was wondering why you didn't tell me"

Damn. The man could be frightening even for Bakugo.

"I don't have any excuse," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "She told me she'd be fine and Iet her, that was so reckless of me." The last part was more for Bakugo than Aizawa. He should've grabbed you and tossed you on his shoulder to the emergency room.

"She's so stubborn" Aizawa stated rolling his eyes and eyeing you from the outside. You were still deep asleep. "She wouldn't have let you, don't be so hard on yourself"

"Yeah, but it was the right thing to do," he said, looking at you too. Your face was relaxed, and your mouth was slightly open to let the air get out of your system. He felt his stomach flutter.

"Your mother called me this morning and told me what happened, I'm glad she was with you." Aizawa was trying not to scare the boy, but it was difficult when you were the one injured. He wanted to say thank you without saying it just to mess with Bakugo. He hoped the poor guy was smart enough to read his intentions. "Before you picked her up, I went to her room, and she was happy, I haven't seen her that happy in a long long time"

He left the "thank you" hanging, but Bakugo knew damn well what followed the last sentence. His cheat puffed out, and he was motivated enough to tell you everything when you woke up.

"I'll stay with her until she wakes up, go to class, I'll tell her to reach for you once she's fine"

Bakugo nodded, and even though he didn't want to leave you, he needed to gather his feelings to come up with the best idea to actually confess.

...

The day went by, and you lingered in your room, watching three outfits laid in your bed. Three different choices, and you liked all of them. That was the first reason why you felt like the date with Todoroki suddenly, and because of your feelings, was turning slowly into something very, very friendly and platonic. You had three choices, and you liked all of them. If the said date was something with relevance, you would be losing your mind over it and in reality you were feeling very chill about it.

You picked a white top and some baggy jeans. It was casual. Todoroki sent you the address at lunch, and you knew the bar very well. Many students went there to watch games or to cry about academic failures.

He didn't pick you up. Instead, you walked alone to the place. It was crowded, and plenty of people were there enjoying themselves, sipping beer and cackling about dumb jokes.

You found your date in the corner of the room in a booth, he was mindlessly scrolling through his phone when you approached.

"Hi," you said, smiling brightly at him.

He did the same and returned the greetings.

"I thought on waiting for you outside your building, but I was coming from the opposite direction," he excused himself the minute you got a seat.

"Don't worry about it," you discarded his apologies. "I completely understand, and besides, the air is warm enough to stay in the open"

"You're right." he played with the napkin under his hand.

The ambient didn't change one bit. It was awkward like the two of you knew that it wasn't going to work or regretted the date right before it happened.

It felt like a huge weight in both of you. Gladly, the drinks appeared not much after the awkward silence, so you jumped into the opportunity of letting go a litte of that enormous tension in the air.

After a sip or two of your drink, you let your tongue take the upper hand of the conversation. You talked about the agency of his father, about some other heroes, college stuff, and people. He told you about his years in UA high school, how class 1A behaved, and how Aizawa was as a teacher.

"And Bakugo, he was the most annoying prick of all, but I liked him, I discovered that pretending and calling him my friend was funnier than to try to ignore his attitude, he changed tho, after the war"

Todoroki was matching your drinking speed, and the date turned into a hangout between two longtime friends.

You laughed about him being so oblivious about people, and he laughed at you very subtly about your stories. You two got along very well, and you felt relaxed when the date lost its label.

"God, I'm really having a good time, you know, I was pretty nervous when you asked me out, and then something changed, and I almost bail, I'm so glad that I didn't"

You speaking more than you should was so you when it came to drinking. You stopped at the third, you weren't drunk just a little tipsy, very aware of your surroundings but not very in control of your mouth.

"I felt the same, don't misunderstand this, you're very pretty and you always caught my attention but yesterday I was scrolling through media and I saw a picture of you and Bakugo at some sort of gala. The date felt wrong after that"

The comment didn't hurt at all. You felt sorry.

"It was so unexpected," you said without trying to justify yourself.

"I heard the rumor, and I remember talking with Midoriya that Bakugo needed some grounding. You humbled him, you're our heroe"

Despise the fact that your act was very public and spoke out loud. You nodded, raising your glass and waiting for him to cling his against yours.

"What a nice surprise, what are we celebrating guys?"

The noise of the glasses clinging died under the voicr of Bakugo, who was suddenly standing beside your booth.

You wanted to die.

"What are you doing here?" You blurted in a messy way.

"I was just passing by," he answered curtly. "Icy-hot I haven't seen you in ages"

The way your eyebrows almost went to the back of your head because of his lack of manners was above you. He ignored you completely to engage a conversation with your so-not date. You were confused and staring at him while he made a huge effort to forget you were right under him in the booth.

"Excuse me," you said, moving his big and bulky body out of your way to go to the bathroom. You pointed to the restrooms to Todoroki, and he nodded, Bakugo leveraged the momentum to scoot himself in your seat.

Your head was buzzing, and suddenly, the effect of the alcohol was banished. You took your phone from the back pocket of your jeans and dialed Jirou's number.

"You're speaking to Denki. Who's there?" You never thought you would be so happy to hear your friend's voice.

"Thank god, put it on speaker," you waited for a moment and then continued. "Bakugo's here talking with my fucking date"

"WHAT?"

The sound of Jirou's drumsticks hitting the floor was loudly enough to have you to take the phone far from your ear.

"I know, I don't know what to do," you said, looking at yourself in the mirror' stall.

"Did he say something?" Jirou asked.

"No, he completely ignored me"

"He's pissed," Denki added, laughing. You heard how Jirou smacked his arm through the phone.

"I texted him earlier about my ankle, but he didn't answer me back. It's not like I could possibly have told him about the date which, just so you know, turned into a not date"

"I'm going to ask for the latter later, where are you hiding?" Jirou said concern dripping from her voice.

"I'm in the bathroom hiding. This sucks. I feel like I have to explain myself, but again, why? I'm not doing anything wrong, and we are nothing and-" you mumbled.

"What about the kiss?" Your friend interrupted and Denki gasped.

"What kiss??"

"There wasn't a proper kiss. It was just the impulse. " You tried to dissipate the chaos.

"I say you go back and tell them you threw up and want to go home, we can pick you up if you want"

You were gathering your options. They were just a few and one worse than the other.

"I'm fine. I'll hold it until Bakugo decides he wants to leave and then everything will be okay again"

Jokes on you. Your date evolved into a threesome.

Todoroki, Bakugo, and you were sharing drinks and awkward conversations where the main topic was something that completely left you out. You were shrinking in your seat, hoping to disappear.

"And then he forgot to pull the lever." Bakugo laughed above the music. He had several drinks on his body, and you were fully sober by the time he decided to stop.

A weird and sudden silence fell amongst yourselves, and you knew it was your chance to finally end your torture.

"Oh my god, how late is it?" You widened your eyes watching your phone and locking it immediately, if someone dared to ask you the time you would have no idea. "I'm going to call it a night, but you two can stay and enjoy, please don't let me stop you"

You urged Bakugo to step the hell up for you to run the far away and as soon as possible.

"You're right. It's been a long night. Since we're heading to the same point, I should walk you home, or do you want to do it, Todoroki?"

Always so polite. And so uncalled.

You could feel the headache forming in your head.

"It's fine by me, I'm going to stay for a while anyways, Midoriya is ending his shift at the agency, so we're going to meet here for some beers" he looked at you. "Is okay with you?"

Internally, you were begging for him to invite Bakugo to stay too. In the outside you shrugged.

"I'll make sure she's safe and sound." he passed his arm behind your back and started moving you towards the exit.

What the future had for you was nothing else than a long and bizarre trip back home.

The walk back the buildings was silent. You shrugged under his arm because of the cold breeze that penetrated your bones.

"Here," he took off his jacket and handed it to you.

"Thanks," you muttered.

You could tell that he was pissed as Denki said. The audacity of the man and the act he played was beyond your own imagination.

You made a mistake. That was something obvious, but he came out of nothing without knowing the entire context. Besides that, he crashed your date without any explanation because you could definitely have your ideas of it, but none of them were fully confirmed.

"My building is over there," you said when suddenly he was walking you towards his building instead of yours.

"I figured that if we are already out this late, maybe we should prolong the night a bit"

His gruff voice did nothing to hide the fact that he felt jealous because of the scene he found in the bar. He went there to have a whisky or too just to cool off his predicament of how to say to you what he actually felt for you. He wasn't very kin to verbalize his emotions, and there was always a chance that they came out wrong. He wanted to avoid that.

Bakugo guided you to his room. For some reason, you were feeling the need to say something about the date with Todoroki to explain yourself. But you were torn inside. What if he didn't care and you were making everything you thought he felt up?

You carried your feet along the stairs without even caring about your ankle. Your mind was clouded with racing throughts that were scrambling your brain.

Without noticing, you were inside Bakugo's room. He turned on the light and started picking up things he had scarred on the floor.

After he picked up a shirt, you took your chance to sit on the marron carpet underneath your feet.

"There's a chair behind you," he said side eyeing you from his spot in front of his bed.

"I need to reconnect with the earth." You tried to joke around, but he didn't even return his gaze at you.

After he folded his clothes and rearranged his closet for what it felt an eternity, he took a seat in front of you on the floor, his back against his bed.

At that point, for you, even if the alcohol was gone, the silence was unbearable.

"Fine, you want me to say it, I'll say it," you sighed. "What you saw is not what you think"

"I didn't know you were a mind reader. Tell me what I think"

The scowl on his face grew deeper by the second. If he wanted to pretend that he wasn't bothered, he was doing an awful job.

"It started as a date. He asked me out before...you know and I said yes and-"

"Why didn't you say no after we went together?"

You knew it was the booze talking. He had a couple of glasses back in the bar, and you were absolutely, one hundred percent sure, that he wouldn't say the things that he was saying fully sober.

"I didn't want to be that kind of person." You shook your head at the sound of your words. You didn't want to be someone who stood up another, but you were willing to be the kind of person to ignore your own feelings.

Bakugo was silent in front of you. He was realizing that he had no right to be mad at you because he still hasn't made the courage to confess properly at you. You were walking on eggshells disguised as assumptions.

"Just so you know, he saw our photos and he wanted to bail the date too"

You played with your fingers, waiting for an answer or some sort of reactions. Your eyes were stuck on the movement between both of your hands that you didn't notice when Bakugo smiled sufficiently.

"Tsk," he called your attention. "The balls of that poor little bastard shrinked because he saw you with me? Pathetic"

You said those words before because you thought that it would mend what was broken. You didn't think it would inflate something that was already full. His own ego.

"I can't stand you," you said, rolling your eyes at him while he smirked across of you.

That cocky bastard. He was the only one who could possibly turn an excuse into something about him.

"Says the one who went out with another guy after almost kissed me," he blurted with a plastered smile on his face. Oh, now he was enjoying it.

"I didn't kiss you." You crossed your arms over your chest and launched your boobs up. Bakugo felt the drool pooling on his mouth.

"That's why I said almost"

The tension was palpable. He had to move from his spot to rearrange his clothes without you noticing. Change of position with a very subtle movement on his Jean's sipper.

"For what I recall, you were the one who tried to kiss me"

You were oblivious to his acts. Lookin straight to his eyes because for one reason or another, the staring contest was on, and you weren't ready to lose.

"It was mutual," he answered, pointing at you from his seat. "I think we should try again, just to see if it was worth it"

He looked at you. Your physical language changed a lot since you two entered his room. You were gorgeous playing dumb when he could see through you and notice that you were almost as horny as him.

"Shut up," you exclaimed. "You ruined my fucking date you don't deserve shit"

"Uh, we are using bad words. It seems like it really got twisted in your panties"

"The only thing twisted in my panties is you"

You noticed about your mistake right after you blurted the words out. The change in the atmosphere had you gasping for stolen air. There wasn't any chance that he would let your mistake die.

"I wish," he said. His tone was completely even. "Just so you know, I like you in jeans, but I prefer you in skirts, I like your legs," he tried to dissipate the tension, but it did exactly the opposite.

"Oh now we're talking bodies?" You quirked your brow at him, and he scoffed.

'If we are talking body..." he raised his arms in defense just to add "l like your boobs"

"I like your hands." You followed his game.

"You have a great ass"

"I really enjoy watching your back and when you flex your arms"

"You do have nice hips, and don't get me started about your lips"

The intensity of his eyes on you were making havocs on your body. You were visibly flushed because of his words, and apparently, you had any will to stop.

"I lied when I said your dick was small.' You licked your lips. He found it the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

"Yeah?"

Only a mumble.

"Yeah, and I lied when I said I never wanted to see it again"

He was looking at you across the room with such an intensity that you didn't realize that you were launching yourself to him until you were straddling him. His hands were quick enough to grab your ass and to reposition your body against his, your core hitting his growing bulge.

His eyes were half lidded, looking up at you. You sunk a little on him to be at the same height. Crimson eyes right in front of you. Full of lust, desire, and just for him to know, a little bit of love.

"Are you going to give me my kiss?" He whispered right above your lips. "Or do I have to do it myself?"

The tone of his voice did something inside of you. It was like electricity running through your system. Forget the alcohol and the adrenaline of being in a battle, this was ten times better.

"I'm starting to think that the only thing you do is talk," you gasped.

His lips tightened closer yours in what it felt like a smile. His upper lip was touching yours, a faint caress spoiling you on what was about to happen.

Instead of the mutual belief, you were the one who connected your lips. The kiss was hungry, adamant, like you were chasing something you couldn't fully reach.

His tongue swept your lips, gaining its entrance to your mouth. Both tongues collided in a war that left you completely breathless.

His hands were groping your ass and swaying your hips to generate some sort of friction on your lower parts. You were definitely turned on by that.

Looking for some air to get inside your lungs, you backed off a little. A tiny string of saliva connecting the two of you leaving trace of what happened.

"Can this get any more messy?" You said, steadying your breathing.

Your hands were fisting his shirt, trying to find some balance between your chest going up and down and your aching core.

"Let's find out." he wasn't drunk because of the whisky anymore, he was drunk because of you. Your smell, your taste, he wanted more.

"I don't want to get fucked on the floor, I'm not eighteen anymore" you said avoiding the embarrassment of being so vocal.

The first time you did what you were about to do, you weren't sure about your decisions, and your senses were lacking direction. Now, the scene was different. You wanted him more than ever.

"Noted," he grabbed you firmly by the back of your thighs and walked you to the bed like if standing up with lifting a body was as easy as lifting a feather.

"I want to be on top," you said when he started to put you under him.

The sudden request caught him by surprise. A good surprise. He couldn't contain the excitement showing on his face.

"Oh, don't let that get over your head, please," you rolled your eyes at him.

"How can I not?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Your wishes are my commands, princess"

He was quick to put you in the same position you two were on the floor. He kissed you this time. Sloppy and slowly. Your hands went up to touch the nape of his neck while his hands grabbed the underside of your breast.

The kissing escalated fast enough that you didn't realize when he was kissing and marking your neck while grabbing your full breast with his left hand.

You wanted to press your tighs together and get rid of your jeans and his. You needed skin to skin contact.

Taking the upper hand on the undressing matter, you latched your neck off his lips and took away your top, leaving your boob in display for him to see.

Bakugo's mouth watered at the sight of them. The first time he had you, he had you underneath him with the lights off. Now he was watching at your body flushed against him right in front of his eyes.

"Shit" he muttered.

"What?" You asked, grabbing his shirt too and urging him take it off. He did.

"Nothing, you are gorgeous, that's all" he said nonchalantly.

You whined and smacked his arm.

"You're gorgeous, that's all," you mimicked him. "You said that like it was nothing, I am fully naked for you, and that's what I get? The only thing you missed was shrugging your shoulders"

He cackled at your dramatic antics and denied it several times before grabbing your lips between his.

"You are more than gorgeous," he muttered against your lips.

"That's better." You smiled and continued kissing him.

It didn't last long before his mouth was over your breast, taking your nipple between his teeth prolonging the ache in your body, you moaned, and he shivered.

The clothes disappeared quickly after that. You were sitting on top of his dick that was hard on your warm core.

He stretched his arm to find something in the drawer. You stopped him mid motion.

"It's fine, we are fine," you said, your fingerpads touching his huge bicep.

"You sure?" He was calm, but on the inside, he was buzzing to the mere chance of taking you raw again. This time fully conscious.

"Yeah, I mean only if you are fine with it, too," you said, and he turned it as a sign to align himself towards your entrance, pushing the tip inside of you. "Shit"

"You okay?" He asked, slowing a bit. You nodded, grabbing his arms that were firmly pressed at your side. "I have to tell you something"

"Yeah, sure, kill the moment"

"Dumbass," he rolled his eyes, trying to hide his smirk. Damn you loved that side of him. "What you heard about me, about my extremely and overwhelming ginormous experiences with girls? Half of them aren't true"

That was something you didn't see coming. You were expecting something less relevant like he was those types of guys who didn't last long.

"What?" You said stopping his sinking a little.

"Yeah, I let the rumors spread because I didn't care about what they said about me. I cared about my friends and no one else, about what they think, I mean " he said, caressing your hair and intertwining his fingers in your locks. "That was until you appeared claiming I had aids or something"

"Don't remind me, please," you tried to cover yourself, but he didn't let you. He wanted you fully exposed at him.

"And just so you know, you are actually the third girl in my life," he said with a playful smile on his face.

"Oh, don't make me feel too special," you joked back at him. "I don't care about what they say either," you mumbled, taking advantage of his state and giving him a slow peck.

The process of not caring about what people said was hard for you. All of this started because you were afraid of being in everyone's mouth because of the naked man in front of you. You didn't care about his body count or about the rumors. You cared about the moment.

After the conversation, he remembered what he was doing before the chat. He sank his member in you, not breaking eye contact in any second. He wanted to see your face, how your brows knitted together, and how your mouth slightly opened.

"Fuck" you said. "I didn't remember it was this big"

That was a boost for his ego and gas to the pedal for him to keep moving. When his dick was situated inside you, Bakugo had to take all his strength to not nut in you.

"Are you ready to-

You interrupted his words with your motions. You started bouncing on his cock the minute you found it comfortable enough. Your knees were deep on his bed, steadying yourself to lift yourself up only to sink down.

"Fuck, princess" he mumbled in the crook of your neck. He started bitting right after that with you moving up and down his member.

You picked up speed, your clit finding the friction it needed to build up the intense wave that threatened to bust.

"You're doing it so good," he purred under your ear, his right hand on your hip moving you and his left hand squeezing your breast. You wished you could talk but the only thing that came out of your mouth were whines and moans.

"Let me hear you," he demanded. His voice gruff and strained.

The same ball of pleasure that you were building on the inside, he was containing it to not spill. He wanted to get you off first, and you weren't so far of his goal.

"Does that feel good?" he said, and you moaned in return. He was moving exactly in the way you wanted it, hitting the spongy spot inside of you that had you curling your toes because of the pleasure. "Use your words, princess"

"Yes," you breathlessly moaned. "Yes, Katsuki, keep going"

The sudden use of his first name got him grabbing you tightly than before. His steady pace evolved in something fast and uncoordinated that had you clenching around him.

"Katsuki, I'm about to -" You moaned through your orgasm, your nails marking his back, and his hands firmly groped at your ass joining your bodies at the point that there wasn't a breeze that could pass through you two.

He spilled his seeds right after you, grunting and going rigid against your arms. You were a sweating mess, and he was, too. Beads of sweat coating at his hairline.

Katsuki watched you trying to calm your breathing while your body still trembled because of the powerful orgasm you two shared.

You sighed in defeat. You were beat.

"Let me take a sip of water, and I'm ready for round two" you whispered.

He laughed against your forehead and left a kiss on it.

"Next time I'll eat you up," he grunted.

You were beat, but not that beat to waste the opportunity.

Katsuki cursed himself on his mind. There wasn't anything to hide anymore. He was genuinely catching feeling for your ass.

(Not proofread yet)

When I said before monday I meant monday, giggles.

End note: Ok, but blame the jackass of my ex-boyfriend for this big fat delay! He's the worst anyway, here it is and babies I have to say that this is getting to an end...there's like one more chapter left :( the great news is that I'm working on something to don't leave you like castaways because I really love your reactions and comments.

A penny for your thoughts about this (not really but express yourself)

taglist: @kiridagremiln @aefillor @screechingfangirlaf @chuugarettes @gold24fish @dreamcastgirl99 @andyetshewrote @budibbly @candiiee @linkfromskywardsword @galaneiaeris @fantasynerd05 @big-denki-energy @3thr3al @marsbars09 @whatswrong7 @scaranthropy @cc1306 @junehasnotbeenfound @jeanbabygirl @pirana10 @sappho-the-kitten-tamer @ahbeautifulexistence @polarbvnny @th0tformikasa @surprisemodafakas @xxjesshuxx @katsuisbaby @azzo0 @atashiboba @azzo0 @berryvioo @hiimsaraandyou @bizzybkd @regrexx @justsinri @slut-4-gojo @bexxs @lemuhr @monkeycheeks-lvl26 @tsukikoxo @sikuthealien @mia-luvs @dondeh-zedonutqueen @the-queen-yn @stardream14 @pretty-sparkle-bomb @itzjustj-1000 @m-atcha-tea @liluvtojineteyam @shosuki @v3n7s @yoyolovesdaiki @jenna-sakura @femi12hhf @aejabba @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere

taglist continues on the comments.

609 notes · View notes

obsessedwrhys · 20 days

Text

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ Wolverine x Deadpool x F!Reader

ᯓ★ Being in a polyamory relationship with these two. (A dream inspired this AHAHHA–) fluff, lots of bickering between the two, funny/goofy shit, bit of jealousy/possessiveness, reader is fem!!

This whole relationship is a mess.

I'm talking never getting a moment of peace kind of mess.

For example this one time you drove the Honda Civic.

Nobody understood why you were the one behind the wheels 'cause now you're ramming into everything with Logan grabbing on the handle for dear life while Wade is having the time of his life at the back.

"Stop the damn car before we crash, bub! Yer gonna kill someone!" Logan shouted and at the same time Wade was screaming out the lyrics to "Highway to Hell" by AC/DC.

Did I mention how different these two are with you?

Wade loves it when you run to hug him, he would swing you around a couple of times with your legs wrapped around his waist.

As for Logan, he prefers something less than that. A simple hug is enough and you can't complain much about it because the way he completely engulfs you in his embrace always made your chest flutter.

It's no surprise that they are protective over you.

Like when you were captured by some troops in the void. The fire guy, Johnny Storm, couldn't help but try to flirt with you. He figured why not shoot his shot right?

"Hey..." He'd say, flashing you a cheesy smile.

And seeing his attempt to charm you, you couldn't help but find it amusing and chuckle.

Clearly the two didn't like it.

Which is why that may or may not be the reason why Wade decided to out the man and get him killed 🤷‍♀️ I guess we'll never know 🤔

You and Wade enjoy pulling pranks on Logan.

The sight of him being pissed off pleases you both.

There was this one time you guys swapped his whiskey to a non-alcoholic drink and you can imagine his frustration.

"WADE!!" But he can never get mad at you. He just can't.

Even Wade complains about this privilege of yours.

"Seriously Lo?! You're gonna get mad at me and not our lovely prank partner here? Come on man, we're both guilty parties in this crime scene. If you wanna get angry, at least share the spotlight :("

Cue you sticking your tongue out at Wade as he pouts with puppy dog eyes.

All jokes aside, the two love and support you dearly.

I like to think Logan is more of an old romantic and Wade is the adventurous type.

That's why it can sometimes take a while for them to decide what to get as a present for you.

"Why the fuck would she want a pillowcase with our faces on it?" Logan asked with genuine disgust in his eyes.

"Why wouldn't she?! It's cute as fuck, and you can never have too many pictures of us together. Besides, it's a lot cheaper than buying a life-sized statue of me for her bedroom, although that's an option too, I hear Wolverine-shaped body pillows are all the rage these days" Without realising, he continued on muttering nonsense to himself which had Logan roll his eyes.

"I'm buying her the leather jacket and it's final" Not letting Wade say anything, he'd walk off to the cashier with him left behind. His action causing him to get irritated.

"What about the budget?!?!" He'd raise his voice but Logan simply ignored him. Fed up, he stomps on his feet as he points at his back.

"Fine, you big lug!! I'll let you have your way this time. But don't come crying to me when she dumps us for a pair of more decisive superheroes!!" He'd shout.

In the end you appreciated the gifts you got for your birthday. Each gift speaks for their character.

You guys definitely have lazy days.

Days where you'll lounge around in pajamas and watch cheesy romantic comedies together, complete with a pile of blankets and snacks.

Expect there to be lots of laughter, cringing, and the occasional eye rolling. Not to forget how you three would start making fun of the characters and the cliche plotlines.

Logan clearly struggles to sit through the entire movie marathon and you always have the to be the one to pull his arm to prevent him from leaving.

"Gimme a break, bub. It’s the same damn thing every time— the good guy wins, the bad guy loses. It’s like they think we got the emotional range of a rock"

"Gee, what a buzz kill. But are they wrong though? You practically live like a rock!!" Wade laughed with Logan letting out a scowl.

Thank goodness you're dating them or else they'd be fighting almost all the time.

In the relationship you're the peacemaker

No but seriously Wade calls you that and the nickname has stuck to you.

You enjoy sleeping in the middle with the two on either sides. Half of the time you always wake up with the two fighting over you.

Just imagine Logan pulling you closer to him but before he could even do that, Wade would be quick to pull you back to his embrace despite them both being asleep.

You like to think it's their reflexes. That even when sleeping they're still fighting with each other 😭

However you absolutely adore the two.

Logan will MELT when you kiss his knuckles. Especially when you do it with your eyes locked to his. He will literally go feral for you.

And Wade? He absolutely loveloveloves it when you baby him. It's his guilty pleasure. Hold him close with his face placed against your chest and he swears the voices in his head finally quiets down. That's why you're his angel.

Also, the two really enjoy showering you with kisses. You can barely ever hold back a smile with the two smooching every surface of your face.

Will do anything to get your praise.

The competitiveness is too much.

Oh Logan got you a bouquet? Well Wade got you a bouquet made of tacos. Who's the better one now huh? 😋

To be fair Wade is Wade. There's nothing you can do about it... but that doesn't mean Logan is ever gonna let him get his way.

"Where's Wade?" You'd ask, watching Logan sink on the sofa beside you.

"Don't know... could care less..." He'd say, wrapping an arm around you to snuggle with you. In the other room Wade has been stuffed inside the closet. Completely restrained and duck taped.

All I can say is that dating them is all fun and love. Literal baby girls.

560 notes · View notes

yeokii · 19 days

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ 𝓐.DORE YOU ❨ 이희승 ❩

꒰ synopsis ꒱ all hopes were crushed when you realized there was no way to get close to your crush, choi beomgyu. your advances to get close to him never seemed to work. so, you decided to get closer to his best friend, heeseung, by joining the broadcasting club. but as scripts change, so do crushes, and you end up falling for his best friend instead.

▸ auditions are open . . . !

ㅤ❕MATCHMAKER ── crush's bsf ! heeseung x reader

fast forward ⃕ [ genre ] : written, fluff, 90s/20th century girl au, slowburn

meet the members ! beomgyu, soobin, jungwon, karina, rei, sunghoon, lia, my ocs

warnings 𖧷 angst but also teeth rotting fluff, suggestive ─ kissing; making out, cursing, skinship, afab reader, mentions of parties and underage drinking, slowburn like actual slowburn u might fall asleep, heeseung has mommy and daddy issues (erm), mentions of injuries (nothing serious) heeseung is mean at first gn, heeseung typical cold kdrama ml, beomgyu fboy era real (01z on top what can I say) lmk if there's anything I missed!

ㅤhe's a real catch ▹ 23K (lol what.)

⌕ [ archives ] one result found . . . hi hi my heeseung long fic era is finally here !! also happy early birthday to my sewlmate @yenqa hope u like my silly little work books butt!!! I had the urge to write a hee fic after watching a time called you (but my inspo is mostly from 20th century girl) also yes I tried a diff type of writing so hopefully it doesn't come out as childish eurm and I did not mean to make it this long bye also ty yen yen for making my synopsis and for proof reading !! (love ya stinkabutt) alsooo the end won't be like the end?? like ill write some drabbles for this!! I just wanted to get this over with lmao anyways hope you enjoy !! reblogs and comments r very much appreciated ^^

The fall of nineteen-ninety-six marked a pivotal moment in your life. Ever since you came into the world, you never really could grasp the concept of love. You wrapped your head around the myths and tales your mother would read to you every night. You thought that every princess would have her own shining knight in armour. So after thirteen years of living, where was yours?

Your knight in shining armour, or knights in shining armour, existed within the pages of the comic books you read. You often wondered if they would magically pop out of your books and transport you into their world.

Similarly, you wondered whether any of the characters from your adored TV shows would step out and bring you into their lives.

So, it wasn't a surprise when your jaw dropped to the ground as you saw the most beautiful man in your life (well, technically, boy). If the epitome of beauty was a fourteen-year-old boy, it would be Beomgyu.

But it wasn’t just his face that made your thirteen-year-old self swoon over him, it was also the way he acted. You loved the way he conversed, his smooth way of talking at a young age and the way he smiled at you every time he made jokes with his friends. You loved how his eyes lightened every time he’d pull a silly prank.

But the problem was, he never talked to you. You admired him from afar. You never actually had the guts to talk to him.

As if You were content with watching his funny actions from a distance. There were some moments when you pushed aside your nervousness and talked to him.

You remember having butterflies in your stomach the moment you first talked to him. There were times when you both were paired up as project partners for a biology assessment and at that moment, you swore you would have worshipped the floor that your biology teacher walked on due to her giving you an opportunity like this.

You knew this was an opportunity to make your move. And you did. You brought him small snacks with little notes on them. Gave him gifts regularly. Maybe even took lessons from your best friend on how to subtly flirt with him. You really thought you had him. Because whenever you used to play out these little acts, you saw the subtle smile on his face. You were so close. It’s like the universe laid it out for you. Gosh, how lucky you were!

Luck. The luck that you thought you had. If luck was a person, you would’ve tackled it to the ground already. Because the day you were about to confess to him was the day he announced his new girlfriend.

His first girlfriend. You doubt you called it ‘love’ since the only thing she cared about was that he was popular and pretty. That’s it? All that girl could get from Beomgyu was his looks and his reputation. You could’ve scoffed at the sight.

Beomgyu was so much more than that. He was loyal, kind, and trustworthy. And she went for his looks. Even though she had him, you felt as if she was missing out on so much. You were partly sad due to them getting together and also due to Beomgyu getting used to his looks.

So, you were practically prancing when you heard the news of their breakup a month later. Did you care that Beomgyu was absolutely heartbroken? Well, yes, but you felt relieved that Beomgyu was finally unleashed from that mean troll's wrath.

And as he got older, he grew more handsome. And God did you love it. When you entered high school he was a completely different person. He had gotten more flirty and way more pretty. He was way out of your league.

Out of the years you were in this crappy high school, you made absolutely no improvement in your and Beomgyu’s relationship. Beomgyu, who kept getting new flings every summer and tons of situationships seemed to discard your existence. One could only say ‘What the fuck?’

Your thoughts swirled, and you had a collection of emotions roaming around your head until your best friend jolted you back into reality with a gentle nudge on the shoulder.

“Are you even listening?” Seori’s voice cut through your thoughts, annoyed, since she had to explain what she was talking about in the first place.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” you blinked, focusing your attention on your best friend.

She sighs, “I was saying that I think Doyoung is going to ask me out.” Seori pouts “Why does he not get that I don’t like him that way, jeez.”

Her ramble about her current boy toy washed out in the background. You were once back in your thoughts until you saw him heading into the cafeteria. Beomgyu entered the cafeteria, his smile widening at something his best friend said.

Lee Heeseung, Beomgyu’s best friend. His ride or die. As long as you can remember, they were attached to the hip. They were basically the package deal. If Beomgyu was the life of the party, Heeseung would hold up his hair while he threw up in the host’s toilet. While Beomgyu was the exact depiction of a social butterfly, Heeseung remained aloof, keeping people at arm’s length. You could only wonder how he dealt with Beomgyu’s outbursting personality.

“Earth to Y/n!” Seori snapped her fingers in front of your face which once again, brought you back to reality.

“Sorry.” you sheepishly smiled looking at your best friend's annoyed face. Your friend followed the gaze you had fixed before looking over to her. And her eyes followed the trail of your alleged ‘man’–– Beomgyu.

“Him again.” a sigh erupted from Soeri, having enough of your rambling over your four-year-old crush.

“I’m sorry, alright!” you pouted, your back hunching over the disappointing development between you two which was nowhere to be found. “He’s just so cute, God!”

Your sigh was followed by your best friend. Not long after, your best friend’s fed-up expression converted into a rather eager one.

“I got it!” she exclaimed, her hand hitting your back while she practically screamed. You winced in pain as a few fellow students gave you judgemental stares.

“All you have to do is be close with his best friend, Lee Heeseung.” she slowly said, almost like a mastermind coming up with a villainous plan–well, you would consider your best friend to be some sort of evil criminal.

But this, this opened new angles in your head. It felt like the universe–or more like your best friend–laid it out for you again. Your once unsolvable puzzle showed a new direction, and the missing piece was all in front of you.

Okay, maybe you felt bad that you were going to use Heeseung like that, even looking forward to it. But, you were really desperate. To the point where you would actually be eager to attend Sunday mass just to ask God for Beomgyu to like you back or even spare one glance at you. Well, what could you do?

Out of excitement, you pulled Seori in for a hug with a squeal while giving her a kiss on the cheek which she in return, yelped. “Seori, you’re a genius!”

“Yes, I know.” she laughed a bit, escaping your tight grip on her before wiping the spot you kissed her hastily with her hands.

“I mean, how hard could it be?”

You smiled and your gaze went up to the boy you loved for most of your life, then slowly to the equally handsome boy next to him.

Jackpot.

“God you’re such a pain to be friends with!” Beomgyu scoffed with a smirk underlying in his face, his hands in his pocket.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Well, you totally ignored that girl’s attempts to hit on you.” Beomgyu said, replaying the past moment that happened five minutes ago.

“Well, she was a nerd.” Heeseung shrugged, “Not exactly my type.” the boy said as they continued walking.

Beomgyu could only sneer at the hypocritic words coming out of his best friend’s mouth, “What do you think you are?”

Heeseung stopped in his tracks, taking great offence to the oh so harsh words said by Beomgyu, “Dude.”

Beomgyu in return, slightly chuckled at his ‘hurt’ face.

“Only kidding.” he said while they continued to walk to their next class, Beomgyu slightly bumping into Heeseung as a form of apology.

“You’re lucky I’m your best friend.” Beomgyu boasted. “Or you would be off with your little nerd antics.” he continued to tease the poor boy, loving the slight reactions his best friend gave.

“Honestly, what would you do without me?” he asked, giving a pat to Heeseung’s back which hurt too much for his liking.

They continued to stroll down the corridor, continuing the conversation with bits of banter here and there.

Beomgyu and Heeseung were basically peanut butter and jelly –– they just clicked. Every time you saw or thought about Beomgyu, his other part of him was always there. But they were practically the opposite of each other. You would stay up late at night during your daily night sessions of thinking about Beomgyu where you would wonder how in the world they became friends.

Heeseung on one hand was the most isolated person you’ve ever seen. His only friend was Beomgyu. You would only see him have a handful of acquaintances with his daily visits in the broadcasting club he was in.

Now Beomgyu was everything but isolative. He was the star of the school. Which meant he had a shit ton of friends. He was always the centre of attention. With his contagious laughter and a knack for mischief, he perfectly complemented Heeseung’s calm demeanour.

Heeseung felt like he was saved when Beomgyu walked in his life. No longer was he the lonely boy who sat alone in the cafeteria because they thought he was a weirdo or whatever. No longer was he the last to be picked for basketball in recess. He finally had a friend.

It was a bond that was made by the silliest circumstances. Heeseung still remembered it like it was yesterday. The day Beomgyu became his knight in shining armour. Back when Heeseung was five or six, he was troubled by the local elementary bullies he had to face every day at school. So he felt even more frustrated when he found himself stuck in a situation where he met his bully outside of school, in a park.

While almost being suffocated as he was being grabbed by the collar, a similar aged boy kicked his left buttock from the side so he would fall. It was a silly move, yes. A bit of screaming and newly learnt cuss words came out of the bully’s mouth and a few threats made Beomgyu scared out of his ass.

He was a pussy in the first place. He always was. So this took him a lot of courage because he had to point out the wrong and fight for justice, or so his favourite superhero at the time said. So naturally after putting on a tough facade, it quickly crumbled when the bully was about to throw a punch which made Beomgyu grab Heeseung’s hand and run.

To this day, nothing really changed. Heeseung is still the same shy, quiet kid he was and Beomgyu was still a pussy who acts before he thinks. And together they were the perfect match for each other.

You walked through the bustling hallways, barely managing to make it out alive with the sweaty teens packed inside, chattering away. As usual, it was always packed the minute the annoying school bell rang. You held onto the strawberry flavoured juice box you bought earlier as a gift for Heeseung so he knows that you come with good intentions –– kind of.

At the end of the corridor you made it to the broadcasting room. You felt a bit nervous, contemplating whether to do this or not. But you couldn’t back out now. This was your last shot at getting close to Beomgyu. Obviously you couldn’t.

You entered the meeting room with a nervous smile to see the faces of familiar people you saw in this school. The room looked cosy. There was obviously the recording studio across the room with a glass panel to see what was happening. A table in the middle, shelves with the older recordings of the morning announcements done by the seniors of the school, some bean bags here and there and a sofa at the end of the room. But what caught your eye the most was the little cork board hanging on one of the walls. It was decorated by a handful of polaroids of the broadcasting club.

At the corner of your eye, you saw one picture which relieved you a bit; a picture of Heeseung smiling as widely as he can. The picture brought a sense of happiness and removed the uneasy feeling you had in your stomach. He actually had feelings and wasn't a statue all the time.

Your thoughts were broken by the president of the club, Soobin. “Hi, you must be Y/n, yeah?”

To your eye level, you could only see his chest, so you had to look up to the sun to see his face. Jeez, was he tall. “Hi, yes I am. I came to join the club.” You spoke up nervously.

“Great! Welcome to the club, we’re happy to have you here.” Soobin warmly smiled, looking back at his members, prompting them to welcome, which earnt a cheery ‘hello’ from everyone except for the boy sitting at the end of the table, secretly rolling his eyes which you clearly noticed.

You didn’t know why he was like this with you. What did you do wrong? Well, technically you were about to do something wrong, considering the entire reason you joined the club was to use Heeseung as your own little puppet to get close with Beomgyu.

You sat on the only seat available, which was next to Karina. She greeted you with a comforting smile. A few minutes into the meeting and you already like you belong here even though you didn’t know jackshit about broadcasting or the fact that you would be scared out of your mind to do the morning announcements.

But aside from that, you felt like you had a good time. Except one thing was bugging you. The most important thing you came for. Heeseung. He converted and engaged in the conversation but had kept a distance with you. You, who didn’t do anything to him at all. More than you were hurt, you were confused. Trying to remember what you had done in the past to upset Heeseung, but none came to mind.

Every time you had given out a suggestion, everyone agreed except for him. He kept quiet when you opened your mouth. The uneasy feeling was eating you away so you leaned over to Karina.

“Is he always like this?” you asked her, your head discreetly pointing at Heeseung.

Karina followed your gaze and looked over to Heeseung, “Like what?” she looked over back to you, confused.

You hesitated for a second before spilling out the words, “Is he always this… cold?”

Karina chuckled softly, “Yes, but he’s sweet. He’ll take some time to warm up to you.” She reassured you, putting her hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry.”

This somewhat settled the uneasy feeling that roamed around your body. You engaged yourself back into the conversation the meeting currently had. And before you knew it, the meeting ended and the members bid Goodbye to each other, not forgetting about you.

Heeseung was quick to leave the club, simply waving to the people present in the club, looking past you with no emotion on his face. You felt like banging your head on the wall. What the heck did you do for him to hate you already? One look at you and he already despised you. Shit, were you that ugly? You touched your face, thinking if you looked unpresentable, but that didn’t make sense. You looked fairly average and well there seemed to be nothing wrong with you.

Shit.

Did he find out about your plan already? Fuck, fuck, fuck. Thousands of thoughts roamed around your head, each laced with panic. It couldn’t be. You hadn’t told anybody else about the plan you came up with. If he did find out, he had every right to be mad at you. You were basically using him as your puppet to get closer to Beomgyu. A slow wave of guilt was creeping over you. You cleared your throat and you bid the members that were getting ready to leave, not letting the guilt get to you. You followed Heeseung out the door and down the stairs.

You saw him walking down the stairs, his bag draped over his shoulder.

“Heeseung! Wait!” you said, rushing down the stairs.

He turned around to see you rushing down to meet him, “Hi, um… I thought you might like this.” you said, nervously as you handed the juice box over to him.

He took it and his gaze faltered down the drink in his hand. The next thing he did was one you never expected. He scoffed. He actually scoffed. Was something funny? You didn’t get it because if there was something, you’d be the first one to laugh because you did not let any joke pass over your head. You were confused. Was he… laughing at you?

You were the first to speak, “Did I do something wrong?”

“I’m not thirsty.” he said, looking at you. His gaze made your knees tremble. What the hell was his problem?

He handed you back the drink, but it was the least of your concerns. “Well, I’ll see you on Monday.” you said, your voice suddenly sounding dull, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

As you passed him you heard him mutter, “You shouldn’t”

“What?” you turned back. “I don’t get what I did?”

“I just… Why’d you even join?” he turned his body and looked at you.

“I felt like it. That shouldn’t be a problem to you.” you sternly said, not caring if it came off as ‘rude’ anymore.

“It would. You’d be bored after three months and leave.” you had the strongest urge to slap him in the face. You? Bored? Like hell you were going to be. Not when you can already foresee the future where he’s going to give you one hell of a nightmare.

“And then Soobin would have to hand over whatever comprehensible duty he gave over to you and put that on our backs.”

You were more so shocked by his choice of words rather than angry. And currently, you wanted to pour the juice box you had in your hand over his head.

“Well I won’t, So don’t hold your breath.” your nails pricked into the cardboard of the juice box you held, trying your hardest not to twitch your face or furrow your eyebrows.

He scoffed with a stupid smirk plastered on his face, shaking his head. Putting his hands into the pockets stitched to his trousers, he walked away from you.

“You're just like the others.”

Heeseung walked away leaving you feeling annoyed as well as frustrated. He was a complete jerk! The reassuring words Karina said to you before was no use now. You were sure he didn’t act like this when he first met the broadcasting members. So why was it only to you? But you decided it’s not worth caring anymore. He was just another obstacle in your path to making Beomgyu like you back. So you put aside your hurt feelings and straightened your back with one thing in mind; you were going to make that bastard like you.

Which is what you exactly planned on doing, standing in front of the wooden door, outside the broadcasting room again once again.

You swallowed the big knot that rested in your throat and opened the door. To your surprise you saw Heeseung sitting on of the chairs, headphones plastered in while his fingers flipped over the pages of a comic he was reading while bopping his head to the rhythm of whatever geeky music that played through his headphones.

Maybe he didn’t hear the door creaking open or maybe he wasn’t bothered to look at you, but either way you went and sat in front of him, clearing your throat to make him look up from the comic his eyes were glued to.

You didn’t know if it was the awkward tension in the room or you dreading to ‘apologise’ to the boy in front of you, but the moment his gaze fixated on you, your heart started beating twice as fast. Maybe it was how pretty his eyes looked with his bangs covering most part of it or how he resembled an innocent bambi–

“Can I help you?” He spoke up, interrupting your thoughts about him.

“I just wanted to apologise for yesterday, I wasn’t meaning to be on edge, but I was kinda nervous with meeting new people and you ofcourse! Not that I mean it in a bad way, I don’t think you’re bad or anything I was just–”

And then you realised that you were rambling.

In front of Lee Heeseung.

“I was just nervous.” And with that, you ended your lengthy sentence in a mutter.

You waited for Heeseung to look at you, waiting for his response and all you got was a quick sigh before he hummed.

Sorry, were you boring him?

But you did not have time to react as the door busted open with the tall president walking in, followed by Karina, Rei and Jungwon.

“Sorry guys, Lia and Taehyun got caught up with stuco meetings, but Karina will catch them up on everything.” He said, as he looked over to Karina, gaining a quick nod from her.

Everyone sat around the table as Soobin took his bulky notebook from his humongous bag that looked like it was filled with rocks. Jeez does this guy have a lot going on.

The meeting started where everyone started conversing and immersing themselves into the topics that the agenda listed. You even made a few suggestions that made the tall president smile at your already hard working attitude.

Which made you smile.

Which made Heeseung scoff.

It wasn’t a loud one, but you could definitely hear it from miles away. And even after you apologised! It made no sense, whatsoever.

You stopped focusing on the topic at hand and looked over to Heeseung, comfortably sitting on the chair with his legs spread and his arms crossed. Oh wow.

No. You couldn’t get carried away from his figure, or whatever his arms were doing to you right now. You were supposed to hate him, right? And right now, you were just kissing his ass, which is what you’re so good at — namely, your best friend pointing that out whenever you went to milk out marks of your biology paper from Mrs. Min.

Of course you didn’t mean any of the words that flew out of your mouth when you were doing your so-called apology. It wasn’t even your fault! He was the one acting like a jerk! Not you!

But deep under all this anger and your prejudice against him, you had the horrible feeling that he knew why you were here, sitting in an uncomfortable chair with the members of the broadcasting club.

And the truth was, he did know. He knew all about your little antics. He’s not stupid. And he’s not oblivious to see those raging eyes under that sort of cute but fake smile! In all these years of you attending this school against your will, you never spared one look at Heeseung. Your eyes were always and only on Beomgyu. So now why are you trying to befriend him? The one who was always in Beomgyu’s shadow?

Because like everyone else, you liked Beomgyu and your gateway was Heeseung. And it doesn’t take much to put two and two together, because it was the perfect plan that was all laid out.

“So everyone is onboard with having a bake sale for the game?” Soobin asked, just to double check with everyone.

He in turn received nods and yeses from the members and brought you back into reality, stopping you from thinking about Heeseung’s cold manners anymore.

You quickly nodded your head as well, putting your lips into a line.

“Karina, me, Jungwon and Rei can bake the goods, yeah?” He asked for the members’ approval in which they agreed.

“Then,” He looked down at his notebook and scribbled some writings over it and looked up again, “Heeseung and Y/n would be selling them.” Soobin looked at you and Heeseung. “Lia and Taehyun can pop into help from time to time if that’s alright.”

Did you hear that right?

Your name and … Heeseung!

You tried not to show how your eyes were practically gleaming as you eagerly nodded. Meanwhile, Heeseung was not having it. He sighed like he had just been drafted into war, but nevertheless nodded his head as well, just more slowly compared to yours.

But, this opened new opportunities for you and new doors and each of them ending with Beomgyu, your beloved. You just had to crack through Heeseung first.

It was one of those nights where you had nothing going on in your life. You called Seori, but she was busy getting ready for Yeonjun’s party which well — you were invited to go, but didn’t because you were too lazy to get up and get ready.

So you found yourself here, in the comic store your uncle owned, slurping on some instant noodles and reading the latest version of Fuller House. You weren’t going to lie, you liked it. You were just sitting on the owner's chair with your bowl filled with noodles on the table and other stuff which were related to the store such as records of the borrowed comics. You bopped your head to the song that the little radio beside you played— ‘Candy’ by H.O.T.

The door to the comic store opened as you heard the bell hanging on it ring. Surely you weren’t bothered to look since the scene you were reading was far too interesting and Ryder was far too handsome to take your eyes off him!

“Welcome, please feel free to look around and pick up any of the comics you like. If you’re looking for something specific, let me know.” Although it was supposed to sound enthusiastic, you put in your own twist making it sound like those automated recordings you hear on those phone calls.

You finally looked up to see who the man was when you were going to gobble a mouthful of the tasty ramen you had. You didn’t quite see the face of the mystery man that came to him as he was quick to look at the various comics displayed on the shelves in front of you, making his back face you.

You saw him pick out a comic book with a cover that you couldn’t quite recognize even if you had registered over thousands of comics here. After squinting your eyes a bit, you realised he picked out ‘Demon Diary’.

So he’s a nerd.

He turned sideways and to your surprise, it was the devil himself—Lee Heeseung.

“Heeseung?” You said, rather loud.

Due to your shock and his name being yelled in the store, he dropped the comic and looked at you, startled—even going as far as letting out a cuss word.

“Hey man, keep it PG13.” You giggled, seeing his shocked figure, in which he rolled his eyes. “My Uncle’s at the back.”

“What are you doing here?” He asked, still shocked, because you were the last person he wanted to meet right now.

“Me? I work here.” You smirked, “What are you doing here?”

“I mean, I've never seen you rent books from here.” You added on.

“I was…just searching.”

“Right.” You said, smiling.

Why is this nerd so awkward?

“You dropped the book, you know?” You said, looking at the fallen book on the ground.

“Right, sorry.” He muttered, rushing to keep the book back on the shelf which resulted in more books falling due to his clumsy demeanour.

“Fuck.” Luckily, he caught them just in time and looked at you with the same cold glare he did earlier, but just a bit more awkward and maybe, embarrassed?

And just like that he left, rushing out the door.

He didn’t even say bye.

How rude.

From that day onwards, he felt more awkward around you. You just didn’t know why. Everytime it was your turn in the roster to announce the morning announcements in the broadcasting room, he had nothing but an emotionless expression and a thumbs up when recording it while you sat in the studio. The other days felt even weirder as you tried to talk to him, but he was quick to go in the other direction. Your head thinks that he avoided you out of embarrassment, but it still left an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

“He’s just so weird!” You said to your best friend while plopping onto your bed.

She was currently sitting on your vanity with a bunch of makeup brushes spread around the table and countless amounts of eyeshadow palettes opened. Apparently, she was practising to ‘enhance’ her looks to impress her new boytoy—Sunghoon.

One of the players on the football team alongside your Beomgyu.

Seori just hummed along to your rambles about Heeseung. Well she did care, but God how long can a person hear her best friends rant about the same guy for over an hour.

“And you know what he did?” You abruptly said, sitting up from your bed, “He just went! Without even apologising!”

“For what?” Seori asked, looking at you through the reflection in your vanity mirror with furrowed eyebrows.

“For his bitchy attitude.” You just had the urge to roll your eyes to the back of your head with the way Heeseung had been acting.

“Oh, only if I could punch him in the face.” You sighed.

“Just leave it Y/n. And I mean this whole thing. It took you what–so many months for your plan to talk to this Beomgyu boy and now what? All you’ve gotten is nowhere. Just move on, babe.” She said, while leaning into the mirror to apply her mascara.

“Seori, Beomgyu is not just some boy. And actually, it’s taken me only weeks for this Heeseung plan. He’s just cold. That’s it. Karina said that he takes time to warm up to people so I think if I get past this stage I could really be friends with him.” You justified your plan, which Seori might call you a bit (a lot) delusional for.

“Alright, Y/n.” Seori sighed, “Whatever you say.” She turned around to look at you.

“I’m just saying, be careful.” Seori said, concern laced on her expressions, “Things don't always go the way you want it to. Just go with the flow.” She smiled.

“Wow, when did you take philosophy classes?” You said, having an amazed expression for sarcasm.

She rolled her eyes as she took out her eyeliner on the table, “Now, come here. You know you do my eyeliner the best.” She said, smiling.

You rolled your eyes playfully and stood up to go towards your best friend, taking the eyeliner from her hands and starting to carefully draw lines at the bottom of her eyelid.

Your best friend was practically the opposite of you. While she finds a new man every week, you’ve been hung over the same guy for the past four years. But having her here and listening to all your rants about him and his rude (but cute) best friend is something that you wouldn’t trade for the world.

As tomorrow was the big day for the game, you were determined to win Heeseung’s friendship as a way to Beomgyu’s heart.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the day you anticipated the most arrived. You looked at yourself in the vanity mirror and tightened your slicked back pigtails tired by hair ties with small bows on them.

You were determined to somehow crack that little arrogant bastard—Mr. Lee Heeseung.

So you packed everything you needed and headed to the stadium which you found out was filled with hundreds of teenagers and teachers patrolling the stadium, looking like they had been tasked with finding the cure to cancer.

Oh was it a sight to see. You could smell the freshly watered grass and hear loud chatters of people conversing with each other—some even yelling. A sweet melody flowed into your eyes through the humongous speakers situated around the stadium. You were going to love today.

You quickly tried to find Seori and lo and behold, there she was, situated in between Sunghoon’s arms as Sunghoon whispered into Seori’s ear and her later laughing like it was the funniest thing that was ever said.

You ran up to them, waving Seori and Sunghoon as well—although you’ve never even spoken to him.

“Ah, my girl is here.” She squealed as she broke free from Sunghoon’s grasp and hugged you tightly.

You awkwardly hugged Seori back, trying to catch your breath from her tight grip while saying hello to Sunghoon who was smiling at the scene.

“You look adorable.” Seori mumbled to your ear, “So adorable that Beomgyu might fall for you the moment he sees you.”

You couldn't help but slap on a big smile after your best friend said that. “You think so?” You asked, touching one of your pigtails in which she nodded in return.

Sunghoon on the other hand was called out by Jake, his friend and teammate, “Babe—I mean, Seori, I have to go. Coach is asking for us to meet at the locker room.”

“Oh right.” Seori giggled as she quickly kissed Sunghoon on the cheek and waved him ‘Goodbye’ after saying that she’ll cheer him on.

Cuties.

Except that could be Beomgyu and you right now, but the universe apparently hated you.

“So, new boyfriend?” You wiggled your eyes at the blushing girl in front of you.

“No!” She exclaimed, “We just, I don’t know.” Seori mumbled.

“Well, if you want him; you need to date him, fast!” You warned Seori, “I just saw him with Wonyoung not long ago. And I don’t know, she looks like she really likes him.” You said.

“What?!” She yelled.

“Don’t worry,” You laughed at her furious, but cute expression, “With the way you kissed him he looks like he’s a goner.”

“Heeseung looks it too.”

“What?” You spaced out.

Why is his name being mentioned?

Suddenly all the emotion in your face drained away, like you couldn’t give two fucks about the boy that had it against you.

“He looked like he was two seconds away from a heart attack when he looked at you.”

“What? You saw him?” You questioned, looking around to find the rude boy.

“Yes, you know the bakesale is like the opposite of where we’re standing right?” She lowered her head asking for confirmation.

“Oh.”

Does he think I’m pretty?

But then you remember what Seori said. The bake sale.

“Oh shit, I have to go.” You abruptly said.

You and Seori parted ways after saying ‘Goodbye’ and you headed to the bakesale with a man standing behind the table of baked goodies.

Heeseung was preparing the goods as he aligned them perfectly, keeping the doughnuts next to the brownies and so on.

You soon caught on and went behind the table to do what he was doing.

“That’s new.” He mumbled.

You were shocked that he even talked to you.

But, hey. At Least he made your plan a bit easier.

“What is?” You asked in confusion.

“Your hair.” He said, not even sparing one look at you and keeping his focus on taking out the baked goods out of the trays next to him.

“Yeah, I tried something different today.” You smiled, thankful that he noticed your hairstyle.

“You look like a dork.” He simply said, as he went away taking the empty trays to wherever he was off to.

That bitch.

So he doesn’t think I’m cute?!

Your mouth was left open as you processed what he said.

As if he looks good.

Well, he does.

But that’s not the point!

Your eyebrows furrowed as you let out a huff, leaving a pout on your face. You didn’t let his stupid comment affect your whole mood so you just continued with doing your tasks as his words went to the back of your head.

Heeseung and you continued to sell various types of cakes and other baked goods while you took a little bite from one of the chocolate doughnuts that was eyeing you the entire time. And you swore, you could see Heeseung subtly smiling at your cute actions from the corner of your eye.

Soon after, the bakesale was long forgotten as everyone focused on the game and the star of the team, Choi Beomgyu. He skillfully passed the members of the opposing team with the ball tangled around his feet. The team needed one more goal to win the entire thing and time was not on their side.

Beomgyu had two minutes left on the clock to somehow magically kick the football into the goal. And just before you knew it, the crowd went crazy, screaming for their new champion—Choi Beomgyu.

He successfully saved the entire team by winning in the last moment and you adored the way his proud smile never left his handsome face even once.

Heeseung beside you was cheering for his best friend when he won. You couldn’t help but smile at his excited expression which was a rare sight to see. He soon ran to Beomgyu and hugged him as he praised the ace of the team. Soon chants of Beomgyu’s name echoed throughout the stadium.

Ah, were you proud of your future boyfriend.

Maybe this was your chance. A chance to finally talk to him. Since no one was at the stall as they were all focused on the ace in the middle of the stadium that was sitting on someone's neck as people chanted his name, you thought to bring him a bottle of water. Maybe even compliment his football skills (even if you didn’t know shit about football).

You took an unopened water bottle from one of the boxes and when you looked at the stadium again, the crowd seemed to move. Fuck, you couldn’t lose him!

You started searching as people started to leave the stadium while some were idling around the benches taking pictures with their Fotoman cameras. The crowd was still very much alive, just the reason for it was missing. Could he have disappeared that fast?

You scanned the grounds one last time and at the corner of your eye, you saw a pathway which led to the boys’ locker room. Well, you had to do what you had to do.

So now, you were standing in the middle of the empty boys locker room with a little water bottle in your hand and the desperation pouring through your eyes to find the star of the day.

But lo and behold, you found his trusty sidekick. And you wanted to laugh, because of the shriek he just let out which led you to think that this was a bit familiar to the situation you were in a few days ago.

“What the hell are you doing in here? You perv!” He whispered, shouted and looked around and back at you with a glare shooting right at you.

“Hey! I’m not a perv! I was just looking for Beomgyu to give him some water–” But before you could finish your speech, Beomgyu and a group of guys were heard coming into the locker room which obviously you couldn't hear as you were too busy defending yourself.

“What! Hey! What are you doing?” You almost shouted as Heeseung pulled you into one of the showers and covered your mouth with his somewhat sweaty palms.

And now, it was just you pressed against Heeseung's chest as his hand involuntarily found his way to your waist to create more space in this uncomfortably tiny shower that could clearly fit only one person.

“Who’s the perv now?” You whispered to yourself, looking away from him, but also internally freaking out that he was so close to you.

Maybe if you were some other girl like Minji from fourth period who could not stop rambling on about Heeseung or maybe the lunch lady that always looked at him with a smile and gave him extra chicken, you would be a puddle.

But you’re not, or so you think that way. Yet you couldn’t deny the quickened beats of your heart which you hoped that Heeseung couldn’t hear given that your chest was literally against his.

You heard Beomgyu outside talking with some other players in his team about the match which made you smile. But you swore that you could see Heeseung rolling his eyes at your expression which honestly you couldn't care less, but to give him a quick punishment, you thought it would be fun to pinch his stomach where your hand was currently pressed against.

Seeing his shushed pained expression and his glare at you only made you smirk even more, but your little feud was quickly sent away as Beomgyu’s ongoing conversation got you distracted.

“You should’ve seen the girls!” One of the football players said, “God, they were so hot! I almost missed a shot because of them!” He drooled.

Gross.

“Yeah, especially that Seori girl.” The other boy said.

Seori? As in my ‘Yoon Seori’? My best friend?

“Fuck, she was hot.” Beomgyu spoke up.

And at that instant, all the colour on your face drained away. You knew most boys always had a weird way of talking about girls, but you never expected your best friend’s name to be passed around like this, especially by your crush. Your pout only increased when you heard them talk even further and you felt a lump in your throat. This cannot be happening.

“Yeah, but isn’t she with Park Sunghoon? I saw them kissing and shit.”

“Awh fuck me, I was going to ask her out.” Beomgyu half heartedly laughed at his missed chance.

So he knew who you were—given that you were always with Seori—and he was going to ask her out and not you.

Ouch.

You inhaled slowly, trying to not let your tears fall out as you forgot about the male that was beside you who was watching every expression that came out of your face.

Heeseung didn’t know why, but he didn’t like seeing your face all sad and mushy. Every time he saw you, you were always giggly or mad at him or trying to put on a fake smile just to get closer to him. But he’s never seen this. And he did not like it, even though he didn’t know why.

And without thinking, he pulled you closer to him.

Hugging you tight.

You were more shocked than sad as you looked at him. You let out a gasp as he held you tight against his chest and your heart skipped around four or five beats. He wasn’t looking at you though. In fact, he looked at anything else or than you, since all of a sudden, the soap that was lying on the soap dish looked very interesting.

He looked very, very red––from the tip of his forehead to the bits of his neck that was covered by his t-shirt, he was red. His pointy ears that were peaking out were red, his cheeks were tinted with a rosy colour and you couldn’t miss out on how his adams apple bobbed as he took the biggest gulp ever!

But, why did you like it?

You shouldn’t.

You liked the man who was outside the shower.

Wait, is this his way of trying to comfort me?

That’s actually kinda swee—”Guys! Come outside! Coach wants to take photos!” One of the members that barged into the locker room yelled before all the soccer players scurried away and went outside the room and onto the stadium.

You could finally let out the breath you were holding in. But Heeseung already shoved you aside and threw himself outside the shower.

You still couldn’t speak of what just happened, but Heeseung was quick to fill in the gap of silence.

“We sold enough stuff today, right?” He said, rubbing his pants against his jeans as he looked anywhere but you.

You blinked out of your dazed zone and looked at the nervous boy, “I think s—”

“Great! Okay, I’ll go and start cleaning up.” He said, as he interrupted you before leaving the room.

What just happened?

You should probably tell Seori.

She deserves to know, right?

“Y/n, what’s that big head of yours thinking?” Seori pouted as she put her arm around your shoulder.

Damn, she saw right through you.

You honestly didn’t know what you were thinking or who you were thinking of. When you paint a picture you see Beomgyu and his pretty locks of hair falling right in front of his eyes, his boyish smile and spark in his eyes

But

Next to him, you saw Heeseung.

Heeseung who has his forehead shown and his stupid locks which parted it, that stupid twinkle in his eyes which you wish you could gauge out and his slight smile forcibly lighting up that spark in you

Now you were stuck, stuck in between two of these boys. You definitely liked Beomgyu! Right? That’s what you keep repeating in your head, but the lines slowly blur as Heeseung’s name enters your head which makes you go into a spiral.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?” You snap out of your thoughts and look at your best friend with the eyes that resembled a lost bambi.

“You okay?” She asked, with genuine concern.

“Yeah, sorry.” You laughed it off, “I’m just tired from that soccer match.”

“Right.” She dragged the word while looking at you suspiciously.

“I’m fine Seori, I mean you would be too after selling around a hundred cupcakes.” You laughed, trying to change the topic.

But lo and behold, the universe was against you once again because as soon as you finished talking, you saw the boy that you were stuck in the showers with yesterday.

The pace of the students walking through the halls seemed to slow down. Everything else felt blurry except for him, the boy that hugged you tight yesterday. The usual hustle slowly faded into the background, leaving the world feeling slightly out of focus—at least to you. To your surprise, he looked even more handsome than he did yesterday. Wait, was he glowing?! Your mouth was agape as you intently fixed your gaze on him.

“Y/n! Snap out of it!” Your best friend brings your focus back to where you were.

“Huh?”

Seori’s gaze followed on where your eyes were previously set on and it ended on Heeseung’s stoic face. A series of ‘oh’s left her mouth as she looked at you, wiggling her eyebrows.

“I knew you would move on!” She squealed, locking her arms with yours.

Did you?

“Seori, I think you’re mistaken. I was just–”

“Don’t lie, Y/n. I know that stare when I see it.” She fixed a teasing smile on her face.

“Seori, there’s nothing going on.”

You couldn’t deny the fact that Her words hit you hard. Have you really moved on from Beomgyu? Just a few seconds ago, you were thinking about him.Yet, you couldn’t seem to shake off the feeling of Heeseung lingering above your thoughts laced with Beomgyu.

“You can’t deny that you weren't just drooling for Heeseung. Not Beomgyu.”

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. "I don't know, Seori. It's...complicated."

Her eyebrows furrowed as a sign for you to elaborate, but you debated on whether telling what happened on the day of the soccer match and what you heard from Beomgyu.

“It’s just really complicated.” Was all you could say, “Don’t worry about it!” You forced your lips into a tight smile which in turn Seori let out a sigh and continued walking as you both tried shaking off the conversation you just had.

Was it really though? You just may find Heeseung a tiny bit attractive after he allegedly hugged you tight in the showers—although not knowing it was intentional, you still very much like Beomgyu who wanted to ask your best friend out! Not that complicated, right? Maybe you found Heeseung a bit cute and maybe not much of a jerk like he showed you to be, especially when he hugged you, revealing he was more than just a cold facade. But what you couldn’t seem to ignore was how your heart flipped seeing his features in the crowd as his bambi eyes shone while his heart shaped lips formed into a pout as he talked with the other students.

Nonetheless, a little touching here and there and a confused bundle of feelings wasn’t going to derail your plan. You were determined to get this to work no matter what. And plus you were very loyal to your man. You think so.

That night, a suffocating silence forcefully clung to the air as Heeseung sat on the dinner table with his parents, the atmosphere always carrying a sense of thick tension whenever his parents were around. He sat next to his brother while his parents were seated across him, boring their eyes onto him with a stern look. With the silence they gave him, Heeseung felt a tight knot into his stomach that felt like it would burst any minute.

The only sound that could be heard was the spoons and forks clanking against the dinner plates while the fan’s motor could be heard throughout the room. Although the smell of home cooked japchae filled the room, Heeseung hardly touched his food as he just poked his food with his fork. His father broke the awkward silence first,

As the silence of the man sitting in front of him spoke volumes, he was first to break the silence, “Son, how did the maths test you had last week go?” Heeseung’s father inquired while staring at him.

“I got a seventy.”

Heeseung knew he fucked up. The young boy couldn’t help but shrink under his father’s scrutinising gaze. His cheeks held a hot shade of red as he looked at all the food scattered on his plate. He knew that what was about to come was another lecture from his father’s mouth and small scoldings from his mother as well.

“Seventy? Heeseung what have I told you?” His father’s voice grew stern.

“Honestly, what the absolute hell are you doing with your life? Last time it was an eighty, and I let it slip because maybe you weren’t doing well. But now I think you’re just lazy,” His father scoffed, “Why can’t you be more like your brother? Look, all his scores are above ninety and that’s all I ask from you.” He said, pointing at the younger boy sitting beside Heeseung with his fork.

Heeseung didn’t even bother looking at his brother, knowing all he could return was a guilty and pitiful face. Honestly, why couldn’t he be more like him?

“Stop spending time with those useless cameras of yours and actually focus on your studies!” Heeseung flinched at the sudden rise of voice from his father which he hated to admit that it affected him.

“They’re not just cameras, Dad,” Heeseung mumbled, gulping the dry knot stuck in his throat.

“What was that? Yeah right, as if cameras are going to help you excel in your studies,” He scoffed once again. “Maybe it’s that Beomgyu boy that you hang out so much with. That boy is nothing but a negative influence on you.” He spat.

And that was the first time where he finally looked his father in the eye now as Heeseung finally looked up from his plate and shot back the same nasty glare his father gave him, “Don’t call him that.”

“I see, now he’s more important to you than your own family. So what if I call him that, then what?” He provoked Heeseung.

Heeseung knew if he acted up, the consequences would be worse. He looked at his mother for any sign of help, but all she did was stare into her plate in fear of getting scolded by Heeseung’s father as well. Not being able to handle the situation anymore, Heeseung stood up from the dining table and left the house, not caring about the shouts that came from his father’s mouth.

The only thing that came out of your mouth was quiet snores. You were sleeping again after promising your mother you just needed a five minute nap afterschool which resulted in six hours of sleep, resulting in the time being seven pm now.

The door abruptly opened showing your older brother shouting at you trying to wake you up, “Y/n! Come on! Get up!”

“What the hell! What do you want?” You asked in a groggy voice, your eyes still closed.

“Go buy me some ramen.” He simply said.

If you had the power right now to strangle your brother to death, his soul would be on the stairway to hell right now.

“Fuck off!” You said as you hid yourself under your comfortable sheets.

Your brother in turn grabbed the sheets leaving you cold, “Go right now.” He said while throwing you some notes of money.

“Or what?” You provoked him, your hands rubbing against your arms to keep you warm.

“I’m telling everyone that a certain someone came home from school, crying because they wet their pants in eighth grade.” Your brother said in a sing-songy voice and a cheeky smile.

Your eyes shot open and you looked like you could kill him in five different ways. Because not only was he blackmailing you right now…but it was also in fact true.

Before you could chase him, he ran out the door, closing it shut after yelling what flavour of ramen he wanted.

“Ugh!” You growled at your peaceful sleep being interrupted by your annoying brother and his tasks.

You thought it was now a good time to wash your face and get rid of the way your bed was calling your name and looked more attractive than ever. Rolling your eyes, you wore your favourite red and white striped sweater and grabbed the money from your bed and left the house, flipping your brother on the way out.

You stepped on onto the chilly streets of Seoul and walked through the concrete roads to the nearest seven-eleven you could find. The walk wasn’t that long yet you felt like the sleep was getting to you from the way you felt already exhausted by the five minute walk.

You walked into the store getting whatever ramen your brother liked and an ice cream for yourself to reward you for the hard work that you did now.

As you licked onto the vanilla flavoured ice cream, you were on your way back home while the chill breeze ran through your legs. Fuck, I shouldn’t have worn shorts.

And now that you think about it, you were only here because of your stupid older brother. With the amount of laziness he had in him, you had a hard time finding accepting the fact that the couch potato that’s probably sleeping in your bed got into a good university and actually has a life.

Oh how you could strangle your brother right now for his lazy bum. Only if you could have one day with him, he’d be scrambled eggs by now. Oh only if you coul—

“Ouch!” You winced as you suddenly trip onto the ground, bruising your knee. Luckily, your ice cream was still intact, though its liquid melted onto your skin, dripping down your hands.

“The Gods hate me today!” You whined as you looked at your ankle in pain, “My poor knee.”

You looked up to find a place to at least sit so the pain would go off. To your surprise you found a nearby park which you used to visit all the time when you were a kid. You crossed the street and entered the park lit with rusty street lights.

Wait a minute…

As you walked into the park, you saw a male figure sitting on one of the swings while his back was hunched.

That hoodie looks too familiar…

And then it clicked. That hoodie was the one Beomgyu wore when he went on one of the class trips. As much as it was a rare sight to see him attending these class trips instead of skipping them, you vividly remember it because that was one of the few times where you actually talked to him.

So you slowly went towards the figure, acting like you didn’t know who he was just so you could sit on the swing next to him with the excuse of having hurt your knee.

As you slowly approached the male figure, you could kind of make out his face shape and then you realised that it wasn't Beomgyu at all.

“Heeseung?”

You saw him flinch at the surprising sound and his eyes shot wide open to look at you, “What the hell? You scared me, woman.” He said, trying to calm down.

Much to your surprise, another one of your failed attempts.

Heeseung looked at the ice cream in one hand that was already melted and the ramen that was in your plastic bag in the other. His gaze then slowly went towards your bleeding knee.

But you didn’t take his observation to note as you huffed while throwing your already melted ice cream into one of the garbage cans nearby and sitting down on the swing next to him, placing your plastic bag with a ramen packet inside on the ground, wiping your ice cream coated hands onto your sweater.

“What the hell did you do to your knee?” He inquired, a rough tone escaping from his mouth.

“I fell down.” You mumbled as you unconsciously pouted.

“And you’re not going to do anything about it?” He asked, amazed by the fact that you’re not bothered at your literal bleeding knee.

“I don’t want to walk all the way back to get a stupid band aid.” You sighed, looking down.

Heeseung felt uneasy by the sight of your state where you looked like you gave up. He let out a sigh and probably a curse to what you could hear and got up, “Wait here.” He said as he left the park.

Your eyes looked up at the boy who slowly disappeared into the dark, wondering where he went. But you didn’t care anyways. Maybe Seori was right, you could never be able to get close to Beomgyu. Even the Gods are against it. Your pout came out even more as you thought about it even more.

As you looked through the park, your childhood memories fluttered open as you remembered the numerous amount of times you played Hide and Seek with Seori or the endless amount of ways you managed to trip on the grass and form a new bruise somewhere where your mother always made a fuss about.

You sighed and glanced at your bleeding knee. You winced at the burning sensation it gave you and the sight of fresh blood splattered on your knee making you cringe as you had a trickling urge to wipe it all off from your sweater, but you knew better than that. You wondered if Heeseung would stick to his words and actually come back

Just as the thought of the young boy entered your mind, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching you. You looked up to see Heeseung returning, holding a small first aid kit in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. A wave of relief washed over you as you released the breath that you didn’t realise that you had been holding.

Without saying another word, he got down on one knee and opened the first aid kit. He took the small piece of soft cotton and started to clean your wound. Next, he took some antibacterial cream and applied it onto your fresh wound.

A hiss came out of your mouth as your leg jerked away from his touch. He looked up with a stoic expression on his face, “Stay still.” He commanded.

Your pout quickly went away as his hand came into contact with your leg as he tried to hold it for a better grip, his touch being surprisingly gentle. You gulped as you looked away from the sight. He was being too kind for your liking. You were surprised that he didn’t walk away the moment he saw you.

After patching your wound up with a bandaid, he got up, taking the water bottle that was on the ground, and you looked up at him, searching for an answer as to why he did something that was so out of character for him.

“A thank you would be nice,” He scoffed but the confused look made him sort of understand what you were thinking, “I just... hate seeing blood.”

He gave you the water bottle. “You should be more careful, dork.”

You hesitantly took the water bottle from his hand and mumbled a thank you for the water bottle and disinfecting your wound from your clumsy fall earlier while he returned to his empty seat on the swing set.

It had been a few moments since you both went back to silence and a few gulps from the water bottle Heeseung gave you for you to finally break the silence, “So why are you here?”

You turned your head around to face Heeseung who kept staring at the scenery of the park, “Needed some fresh air.”

“Mm, sometimes I need some too, but I go to the Han River. It’s more peaceful there,” you said, trying to keep the conversation light.

“Yeah, well, do I look like I can go there now?” Heeseung said, his voice sounding snarky and sharper than you expected.

You smiled sheepishly, understanding the given circumstances, “Right, sorry.”

Heeseung sighed, he could see your smile from the corner of his eyes. He looked down to his hands resting on his lap, “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… lash out on you like that.” He mumbled.

“I get it I guess… I guess we all have those days.” You said, turning back to view the comforting landscape in front of you. “I used to be worse. I once smacked my brother across the face because he breathed too loud.”

A snort surprisingly came out of Heeseung’s mouth. “Are you implying that smacking you might help?”

“Well not me! Violence does not help, but if it’s on my brother… then I’d disagree.” You giggled, remembering the memory of your brother sobbing to your mother with a red strike across his face.

A soft smile found its way on Heseung’s face and this was probably the first and few times you actually saw him smile. The problem was, you didn’t know why, but you liked it. A lot. And you wanted to keep doing whatever you could to keep that smile on his face.

Gosh! Get a grip, Y/n!

You both fell into a somewhat comfortable silence before you decided to change the subject again. “When I was a kid, I used to come to this park all the time,” you began speaking, your eyes wandering around the familiar surroundings of your memories spent here. “Seori and I would play hide and seek, and I’d always manage to trip over something and end up with a new bruise. My mom would make such a fuss about it.”

Heeseung intently listened. He found it comforting that he could just sit there and here you talk without finding it annoying. This surprised him, what was he doing? Wasn’t he supposed to hate you?

“Oh right there!” You pointed to one of the bushes, “I fell down on a bird’s nest there. I spent the entire ride home sobbing because I sat on some of the eggs and it.. broke.” You mumbled at the end, feeling embarrassed. “I couldn’t sleep that night so I went back the next day and made a birdhouse for that poor mama bird.” You said, a pout unconsciously showing up at your lips.

Even though you were currently going through your past memories and spilling your countless stories to Heeseung, all you could hear from him was silence. You started to wonder if you were talking too much, if maybe he wanted some peace and quiet. Just as you were about to apologise, your pager beeped loudly, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You glanced at it and realised it was your brother. “Oh, shit. I need to get back,” you said, standing up and wincing at the pain in your knee. You picked up the plastic bag from the ground.

You looked back at Heeseung and awkwardly cleared your throat, wondering if you were on terms to bid each other Goodbye, but before you could form a sentence Heeseung beat you to it, “Open your eyes when you’re walking and don't fall again, dork.”

You playfully rolled your eyes realising he was back to his old Heeseung self and left the park, heading towards your home. As you limped back, you couldn’t help but feel like maybe, just maybe, you’d managed to make him feel a little better.

Heeseung watched you limp out of the park, a soft laugh escaping him at the sight of your awkward struggle. A small smile tugged at his lips as he watched you go. He felt a bit lighter, thanks to you, though he’d never admit that.

Waking up with a bruise was never a good way to start your morning. You took off the thick blanket that covered you. As you felt the dull ache on your knee, the unexpected meetup with Heeseung rushed back to your head when that was the reason why you tossed and turned at night, trying to get a wink of sleep.

The thought of the boy never left your mind, wondering where you stood with Heeseung, hoping that yesterday may make Heeseung warm up to you, but a part of you wanted Heeseung to keep you at arms distance for the fear of something you couldn’t quite grasp onto.

But you settled on keeping Heeseung as a part of your plan and maybe even a friend after you start dating Beomgyu. Right?

Oh right, Beomgyu…

The chestnut haired boy raced back to your mind, strengthening your feelings for him. Though, you still didn’t know why the thought settled weirdly in your stomach.

You brushed it off and started to get ready for school, you were determined that today would be the day that you get your pawn Heeseung to finally act according to your genius plan.

After a quick shower and trying to make yourself decent for school, you headed out the door, slightly limping but still excited and a hundred percent sure that he would agree if you buttered up enough to him.

As hours passed, the day was going pretty well while you zoomed through the classes with ease. And now, you found yourself standing in that familiar spot, outside the broadcasting room, a few minutes before the usual meeting would start since you knew that Heeseung was always the first one to be there.

What a loser!

A kinda cute one too maybe…

Wait! Fuck—

“Y/n?” A voice came from behind you, a familiar one.

“Hee–” You turned around to see the boy towering over you, the gap between you being very close.

You froze after seeing how close he was to you, “I-I was actually going to talk to you– you’re here?”

“Guess you beat me to it.” He said, taking his hand out of his pocket and turning the knob on the door resting next to you, his side view being very clear to you.

Shit.

He opened the door and you silently thanked yourself that you weren't leaning against it and quickly scooted to the side to give him some space to walk through the room. He took his seat at the very end of the room— his usual seat. You walked in slowly, closed the door behind you, and took a seat in the chair across from him.

“I was going to say–”

“Can I ask you something?” He spoke up.

His sudden question caught you off guard, “Ye–yeah go ahead.”

“What exactly are you trying to do?”

You furrowed your eyebrows at his peculiar question, your head tilting to the side in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why are you trying to be friends with me?”

“Oh.” An odd silence formed between you two. “I just wanted to–”

“You never even looked at me before, so why join the broadcasting club, talk to me, try to get close to me? I just want to know why notice me now?”

You contemplated on saying that it had something to do with a boy named Beomgyu but you swallowed that response down your throat, knowing how’d his future response look like. Your sudden confidence at the beginning of your day faltered, making it shred into tiny little pieces. All you could do was open your mouth a bit and gulp nervously then look down at your hands resting on your lap.

Heeseung noticed your sudden nervous behaviour so all his thoughts came out into one statement, “You like him.”

Your eyes widened and looked straight at him.

So he knew.

Heeseung only scoffed, the pieces of your plan finally laying out perfectly to him, “And you're trying to get close to me so you can what? Talk to him?”

All you could do was look down and nod slightly. Was it that obvious?

Another scoff could be heard from Heeseung as he stood up from his chair, clearly not wanting to be near you.

You stood up, “Heeseung, wait!” He stopped in his tracks, yet his back was still facing you.

“I have liked Beomgyu before I could even process what the word like had really meant. And gosh, I tried everything in the book and heck everything I could do to even get close to him. Nothing worked! Please just— this is my last hope as silly as it sounds, but I’m really desperate here. Just help me out a bit, because I don't think I can sleep at night knowing I didn’t try. I swear i’ll even stop talking to you if he rejects me–”

“You talk a lot.” He finally turned around to face you, “But that little monologue of yours got you nowhere.”

You walked towards him, knowing this literally could be your one last shot at this plan. “Heeseung…”

But something struck you as if a bulb just lit up in your head.

Gotcha!

“You know, you’d really hate it if you found out what happened in 'Demon Diary' without reading it, right?” You said, sneakily coming up to him.

“Right..” He said hesitantly, not sure what trick you had up your sleeve.

“If you were to help me, then you’d have the pleasure of reading it without spoilers like Raenef being the next demon lo–” As you were about to finish, his hand came in contact with your mouth to shut you up.

Your eyes widened again and your heart rate fastened for nth time. He was so close to you, his hand feeling warm against your skin. Nothing was to be heard from the both of you until Heeseung realised how close you both were which made him gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

He slowly lowered his hand and took it off your mouth, “I want volume one.”

“Deal.”

One thing you've known about Heeseung was that he loved working with cameras. From school events to casual hangouts, he always had his camera hanging around his neck, clicking a picture of anything that piqued his interest.

So of course, he was assigned by the broadcasting club to take the pictures of students on this field trip to see the flowers at the Musimcheon Cherry Blossom Festival and sent the new girl—aka you—to assist him, which you happily obliged.

On the way to the field while you were in the bus, you took out your essentials to hopefully butter him up; banana milk. It always does the trick when you want something, and to your luck it was his favourite drink too!

“Woah! Is that for me?” Seori who was seated next to you pouted, trying to take the banana milk out of your hand, but you were quick to swat her hand away.

“No! It’s for Heeseung.” You mumbled with a pout.

“Oh! I get it now.” She wiggled her eyebrows at you in a teasing manner not knowing you wanted to rip them out.

“Stop! It’s not like that,” You said with furrowed eyebrows trying to defend yourself, “It’s so I can kiss ass and get close with Beomgyu!”

“No way L/n Y/n just said that.” She said with a breathy laugh.

“You gotta do what you gotta do.” You said, stretching your arms a bit with a smile on your face.

Seori rolled her eyes at your justification, “Oh by the way, you still with your boy toy?” You snickered while elbowing Seori.

“He’s not my boy toy! It’s just complicated.” She muttered, shyly.

“Hmm, isn’t that what you said for Jaeyun, Minhyun, Sojun and—”

“Oh my gosh stop! You’re making me look like a player!” She whined, hitting you on the side, “I’m actually serious about Sunghoon, I really like him.”

“Woah!” You turned to the side. “That I never heard, I’m impressed he managed to wrap you around his finger like that.” You said, nodding your head, impressed by how in love she looked but you’d never say it out loud since you knew she’d drag you to the pits of hell.

Seori never really liked relationships—heck! you’re surprised that she’s been your best friend for this long. She usually has casual and lowkey situationships as you like to call it, but seeing her with Sunghoon actually gave you hope that you might experience her having her first real boyfriend instead of her running away from her potential love interests.

“Yeah whatever.” She rolled her eyes at your comment. “At Least I’m not the girl that’s been crushing on a guy for three years and hasn't made a move yet!”

“Hey! I am making one! It’s just a really slow move.” You tried to defend yourself.

Hopefully that move does work if Heeseung actually abides by your plan. So when you arrived there, the first thing you did was to search for Heeseung. Luckily, it didn’t take that much time as you found him in the middle of the field setting up the essential equipment needed for capturing some moments on the trip. You headed towards him, calling out his name making his bambi eyes drift towards you.

As you were near him, you reached out to your school bag and took out the comic he had set his eyes on, “You need to return it on Monday.

He silently thanked you while he nodded while you were still rummaging in your bag, “Here.”

You handed out a tiny bottle of banana milk to him, “Jungwon said you liked it, so.”

Heeseung blinked in surprise before he pursed his lips. He took the milk into his hand and turned around to put the comic and the milk into his bag, hiding his smile at the cute gesture from you.

The boy cleared his throat and started adjusting the settings for the camera while you rested your hand against the stand, your chin leaning on top of it, pouting in search for Beomgyu.

Once your eyes finally set on him talking to his friends, your eyes became a lot more dreamy and your once faltered feelings bounced back, strong as ever.

“No girlfriend, right?” You muttered, still looking at Beomgyu.

“No.”

“Then what type of girls?”

“I don’t know, maybe Sim Eunha?” Heeseung answered, now recording bits of students socialising.

“Oh, so like someone innocent?” You said, taking out a notebook from your bag to record his likes, “That’s alright.”

“Favourite movie?”

“Armageddon.”

“Oh?” You smiled while writing it down, “Mine too.”

“Future major in college?”

“Theatre and film of journalism and broadcasting.”

“Oh,” You wrote down the words he said quickly, “So he wants to be famous because he’s handsome?” You mumbled.

“No,” Heeseung stated, “I just like working with cameras.”

Wait a minute.

You looked up from your small notebook and processed his words. Is he really talking about himself? Your head shot towards the taller boy next to you with furrowed eyebrows.

“What?” You exclaimed, “This isn't about you! I’m asking about Beomgyu.” You said as you slightly hit his arm which made him wince a bit. “If I have to get close to him, I need to know what he likes…And besides, why would I ask what you like anyways.”

“Such a dork.” Heeseung scoffed as he looked at your sulky face, “Come here, Soobin sent us both on this trip. You should record as well!”

You rolled your eyes at the sight of Heeseung setting up his camera on the stand for more stability. You reluctantly but quickly put your pencil and your little notebook in the small pocket of your bag. His eyes averted to you as a signal to come closer which you obliged to.

“Put your eye here,” He pointed at the camera, guiding you to the camera’s viewfinder. “This is the zoom in button and here’s zoom out.” He showed you the necessary buttons needed, “Don't zoom in too much.” He nagged quietly.

Heeseung slowly guided your hand to the zoom in button and slid it down to the zoom out button. His way of teaching you around his camera felt gentle and soothing, like you could listen to him talk about his cameras all day. His gentle touch and the proximity between you two made your heart feel like it was in a marathon.

“Hit record.” He instructed and so you did.

You zoomed in on a few places with students chattering and at the scenery of the field and as well as the sky.

“Hm, you’re doing surprisingly well.” He said, quietly. Way to ruin the moment if there even was one.

You froze at how close you two were where you could hear his heartbeat. It felt so comforting for some reason. You could listen to his deep breaths next to you as he guided you to record some of the scenery. But this also set off many alarms in your head, screaming at you.

What are you doing!?

Your breathing felt unsteady and awfully loud to you, to the point where you thought Heeseung could hear you.

“Okay I got it.” You muttered, trying to dominate the space you two shared behind the camera, “You can go.” You said, nagging him to leave you alone.

He slowly backed away from you, taken aback from your words and let out a sigh which went unnoticed by you. You continued with recording the landscape which brought a sense of calmness to you. You zoomed into Seori and Sunghoon chatting away, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the cheery boy in front of him.

Cute, you thought.

You slowly panned your camera to the blue skies above the fields and now to the chestnut haired boy. Beomgyu’s smile melted your heart as he talked to some of his friends which seemed really funny with the way he laughed.

He was soon joined by the taller boy, Heeseung. You zoomed in on Beomgyu to get a close-up of him, momentarily forgetting about recording the scenery. Yet, strange enough your hands instinctively moved the camera over to capture the boy next to him. There was something about Heeseung that you couldn’t quite grasp onto. His doe-like eyes sparkled as he chatted with his friends.

With his hair that always seemed to fall so carelessly over his forehead and the way he would sneer slightly as if he was amused whenever someone spoke up, you could never seem to keep your eyes directed elsewhere and you didn’t really know why. He had this charm about him that was impossible for you to not look twice— the way his lips moved to the glint in his eyes.

After a brief pause, he looked right at the camera, catching your gaze. It startled you, and you fumbled with the camera— readjusting the camera and propping it back to the field quickly.

Way to make it so not obvious.

However what you didn’t catch was Heeseung looking at your clumsy self, trying to grab shots here and there. And what you didn't see was the smile that found its way to his face, because of you.

If you were Heeseung, where would you be right now? Currently, you were looking for wherever Heeseung would be. In the broadcasting room? Surprisingly, no. One of his classes? No. The cafeteria? No sight of the tall boy. Heck! Even the field where Beomgyu was practising? All you could find was the dashing boy moving through the field with ease and shooting a goal into the net.

The banana milk in your hand started to look real good after your countless laps making you thirsty, but no! You were saving that for Heeseung, if he even is alive today. Suddenly, like lightning struck your head, you realised that Heeseung was a huuuge nerd.

You jogged to where your school library would be, which was a few metres away from the football field. You entered the facility to see Heeseung in all his glory sitting at one of the tables reading the big book of the Photographers Guide.

Of Course he’d be here!

Nerd.

His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, looking like he absorbed every word and the sight made you smile unknowingly. Without thinking, you walked over and took a seat in front of him.

“Whatchu reading?” you asked, dragging your words a bit, leaning in.

Heeseung let out a small yell as he flinched at the sound of you speaking which made your smile grow even wider, “Jesus, woman! stop sneaking up on me like that.” You laughed, brushing it off with a small sorry.

“Why are you here anyways?” He questioned, “You don’t read.”

“Woah!” You raised your hands a bit at the somewhat correct accusation, “I do, sometimes.” You giggled. “I came to give you this.” You placed the banana milk you were holding on the table.

He raised his eyebrow at you, “In exchange for?”

“For nothing! Just a friendly gesture,” you said, but then a sly smile crept up your face. “Actually, I was thinking...maybe we could all hang out together? You, me, and Beomgyu.”

Well he knew it.

“Hell no,” He said, stuffing his nose back into the big book.

“Cmon!” You nagged, your hand reaching for his arm trying to convince him.

Heeseung looked you dead in the eye to say the word ‘no’ again to which you groaned at.

But then, you noticed a familiar book peeking out of Heeseung’s shoulder bag that was resting on the table. It was volume one of Demon Diary.

“Aha!” Without thinking, you snatched it up.

Heeseung shot up looking at you with widened eyes,”Hey! Give it back.” He protested.

“I agreed to give this to you if you were to help.” You said, dangling the book infront of him. “And you’re not, so i’ll give this if you—”

“Fine.” He snatched the book from your hand.

You flashed him a big grin, “Great! I’ll see you at three o'clock at the bus stop tomorrow.”

Heeseung nodded reluctantly as if he was being held at gunpoint! “Fine. But if this turns out to be a disaster, I’m blaming you.”

“That’s fine,” you said, grinning from ear to ear. “But it won't be.”

As you left the library, the reality of your plan started to sink in, filling you with a nervous excitement. To think that tomorrow would be the day that you would actually hang out with Beomgyu in the flesh just brought hundreds of butterflies into your stomach. But a part of you wondered if this was the right direction you were going. But as your plan finally starts to take shape, you think to yourself if this is what you really want? You look back at Heeseung being engrossed in his little book. You wondered if maybe, just maybe, he was looking forward to it too.

But, why do you care? You were here for Beomgyu, right? You are doing this for Beomgyu, you tell yourself. But even as you tried to convince yourself, the nagging thought that was right behind you kept pouring thoughts that maybe, just maybe, there was more to this than you first realised.

The next day arrived in a blink. You were already waiting at the bus stop, dusting off the invisible specs over your dress. Your first real dress that you begged Seori to let you borrow. The baby blue chequered dress draped right above your knees and was held with two straps that rested on your shoulders which were tied into the shape of a bow.

You looked over at your watch —2:55. You just hoped that Heeseung would show up after praying to the Gods that this plan would finally take off.

The time stretched on. It took a few minutes to make your stomach start grumbling due to the nervousness that ran through your body, but everything was put aside when you saw Heeseung walking towards you clad in his white tee paired with cargo pants, his hands shoved in his pockets and a stoic expression covering his face.

Next to him was a slightly shorter boy, but also the man of your dreams and the man that was actually in your dream last night as well. Imagining him so many times in front of you, this close felt overwhelming now that he was actually walking towards you. Not anyone else—you.

Heeseung and Beomgyu stopped in front of you and Beomgyu greeted you with a grin on his face, contrasting to the boy next to him, “Hi Y/n! It’s been a long time since we talked. Hope you won’t mind me tagging along.” He chuckled.

What? Tagging along?

What exactly did Heeseung tell him?

As Beomgyu walked further ahead of you two, you slowed down your pace to match Heeseung as you elbowed him and aggressively whispered, “What did you tell Beomgyu to get him to come?”

Heeseung glanced at you, with that still same stoic look on his face and shrugged. “He loves carnivals. I barely got to finish what I was saying before he was begging to tag along.”

“Must be fate that we both loooove carnivals so much.” You said, giggling at the thought of you and Beomgyu sharing the same love for roller coasters and cotton candy, missing the roll in Heeseung’s eyes.

The three of you finally got onto the bus, you going right after Beomgyu, excited for the trip to the carnival. As you neared one of the seats, the bus suddenly lurched forward, causing you to stumble and fall on your ass right in front of Beomgyu.

But lucky for you, Heeseung was right behind, you pressed against his chest. His hand quickly came into contact with your arm, his grip strong as ever. You looked over to see him just as shocked as you are, but the look in his eyes exuded a genuine concern. Before you could fully register what had just happened, he pushed you away from him while wearing that same stern look on his face.

“Thanks," you mumbled, avoiding his gaze as you felt heat rising to your cheeks.

Then he finally looked at you, “Sit.”

You quickly obeyed, sitting on one of the seats that was next to Beomgyu who quickly asked if you were okay after seeing you stumble. You replied saying you were fine and breathed out the breath that you didn't know you were holding in.

You looked at Beomgyu once again, who was blissfully unaware of the little moment you just had with Heeseung, if you could even call it that. You turned your head to look at Heeseung who was standing beside you, one hand gripping the rail above for support while his eyes were fixed onto the passing scenery outside the window.

You could feel the warmth of him radiating beside you and it strangely brought comfort to you. Even if he wasn’t touching you anymore, even if he was looking ahead of you, eyes stuck to the scenery outside one of the windows. It made you feel an unfamiliar emotion which you never experienced. And you wondered why it only happened whenever you saw Heeseung.

Beomgyu on the other hand was mindlessly babbling about the different types of rides he wanted to go and how he hadn’t been to an amusement park in years. You nodded along to his words, trying to focus on his mindless chatter about the terrifying but exciting roller coasters they have, but your mind kept running back to how Heeseung’s hand felt on your arm, how you were pressed against his chest and that look that he had in his eyes.

That stupid look.

It only happened whenever he locked eyes with you. You honestly wondered if he had sprinkled something over his eyes to make him look at you like that. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it. With recurring encounters revolving around both of you, you started to lean into that look, almost wanting him to look over you with his bambi like doe eyes.

But, you were sure that would change today. You were going to stick with Beomgyu. The bus came to a stop at the amusement park, dropping you three off. The sight of the crowded park and the sound of excited chatter alone filled the air, clearing your previous thoughts.

You could practically hear Beomgyu’s excitement. You found yourself smiling along at him, heading towards the park as he pointed to the different rides and the various games they had. And on your other side was the walking grey cloud who had a bored look on his face the entire time. Well usually that wouldn’t bother you, but something was pulling you to walk around and try every game with him. Not the other.

Fuck, you couldn’t get distracted.

“We should go on the rollercoaster!” Beomgyu pointed with a big grin plastered on his face.

You nodded along although Heeseung wasn’t having the same reaction, “You guys go ahead, I’ll just walk around.”

“C'mon! It’d be fun! Don’t be such a pussy!” Beomgyu exclaimed, coming near him, his hand dragging Heeseung’s as a motion to join.

“Yeah.. you should come.” You said this time, with a genuine smile, looking forward to seeing how this scaredy cat—due to his previous shrieks from you creeping up on him—would handle roller coasters.

To absolutely no one’s surprise, he was screaming the entire time on the rollercoaster, barely making it out alive and cursing Beomgyu for wanting a second round. You couldn't help but laugh at his state while he was panting for air, his hands on his knees after getting off the “wretched” ride as he liked to call it.

You three would go onto ride the carousel and eat a month’s supply of cotton candy. You couldn’t resist dragging Heeseung onto the Disco Bang ride, laughing as he was tossed around in the spinning machine.

Your hands naturally found your way to Heeseung’s, dragging him to any of the games to your liking, him just obliging and tagging along. You made him play the claw machine game a dozen times for a hello kitty doll and he would, skillfully manoeuvring the handles to get the cute plushie. He didn’t know why, but he did it so he could see that the doll would perfectly fall into your arms.

Beomgyu was far gone into the fun of the carnival, drunk on adrenaline which made him ride the rollercoaster again, twice. And at the end of the day, he had to meet the consequences of his previous decision, making his feet stumble on itself and his head dizzy.

By the time you finished circling around the entire amusement park, the sun had already begun to set. The sky was painted in shades of orange fading into pink, the stars already visible.

And there was one more ride that you didn’t check out. The biggest part of the plan. You saved the ferris wheel for the last so you could hop on into one of the tiny cabins and sit next to Beomgyu as you both watched the fireworks begin.

A solid set plan right?

“Let’s check out the Ferris wheel,” you suggested, pointing to the towering structure dazzled with colourful lights.

“Uh..sure!” Beomgyu hesitantly said while rubbing his tummy, his face a bit pale.

You smiled and got into line side by side with Beomgyu and Heeseung knew that was his cue to let you two have your “moment” as you like to call it. Heeseung joined the cue later so he could go alone, his tall figure a few metres away from you. Beomgyu was too worried about his stomach grumbling to wonder why Heeseung didn’t join you both.

As you got to the cabin, Beomgyu laid his hand on your shoulder, “I think I’m gonna be sick…"

“Beomgyu, you good?” You asked, worry creeping into your voice as you glanced between him and Heeseung, who looked equally as concerned.

“Yeah, go ahead with Heeseung.” He said, quickly leaving the line to find the nearest bathroom so he could hurl his guts out.

Fuck.

No, no, no.

This wasn’t supposed to go this way.

The line attendant had already called out to you two, so you had to hurry inside the tiny cabin with Heeseung. You swallowed the little bump in your throat, bummed that you didn’t get to sit with Beomgyu.

You got Heeseung instead.

You plopped onto the seat, Heeseung sitting in front of you. Your eyes visibly looked sad, and Heeseung had that familiar feeling rushing all over again. The last he felt this was at the locker, the same look shadowed your eyes again.

But, he couldn’t say anything. He just had to sit there and look at your pretty face with a pout on your lips.

Finally, as the cabins were about to start spinning in circles, he broke the silence, “You okay?”

You scrunched up the ends of your dress, nodding as you looked at the way the fabric bundled up in your hands.

“Are you sure?” He asked, with a softer tone, “I’m sorry that Beomgyu couldn’t join you.”

“It's..fine.” You looked outside the window to embrace the calm scenery.

Heeseung just sighed and followed your gaze out the window, occasionally looking at you, that same look on your face.

“Do you think Beomgyu liked this?” You mindlessly asked, feeling disappointment was over you.

“Yeah, I think.” Heeseung quietly answered. “ He just got ahead of himself.”

“Today was supposed to be perfect, Beomgyu was supposed to actually like me today.” You confessed, your words tumbling over you as your disappointment grew. “I was supposed to watch the fireworks with him on the ferris wheel, but now he’s puking his guts out probably cursing me for planning this and I dragged you into this—-“

Hey, hey… you did good today.” Heeseung’s words rushed to comfort you, his heart aching as he heard your breathing quickening.

“He genuinely looked like he had fun with you and trust me I know how he looks when he has fun and this was one of the few times he actually smiled that much around anyone. If you ask me, I think he… likes you plenty.”

Heeseung didn’t know why, but he hated saying those last few words. The boy had to spend the entire day at the park looking at Beomgyu gleam over you with such sincerity in his eyes as you smiled with him, riding fucking automated horses that went around in a circle and to say that he likes you was the perfect cherry on top.

“Thank you, Seung.”

Seung.

That was the first time you ever called him by a nickname. It had always been "Heeseung," usually accompanied by some kind of teasing or nagging. So don’t blame his heart for skipping a beat when you sat there all pretty calling him a name which made his mind dizzy.

“The fireworks are starting.” You said, a soft smile rested on your face as you looked to the view outside your window which Heeseung shortly followed after.

And as if on cue, just as the ferris wheel stopped with you both on top, the first set of fireworks had exploded into the sky. It filled the dark night with colour while your eyes lingered over the lit patches of collie, mesmerised by its beauty.

“It’s so pretty.” You muttered, your voice filled with awe.

Heeseung didn’t respond right away. Why? He was too busy looking at you. It felt more worthwhile than watching a few fireworks light up the night sky. It was more worth it to see how your eyes lit up at the sight. How your eyes widened in shock of the scenery ahead of you.

You looked pretty.

“So pretty.” He muttered, almost in a whisper where only he and his gear could hear it.

Time seemed to stop. The only thing in motion was the continuous fireworks bursting and Heeseung didn’t want it to end. He realised then and there that he would burst up as many fireworks just to see that smile on your face. He realised that he’d do anything to see you happy.

That night, while he sat with you on top of the ferris wheel to watch the fireworks, Heeseung realised something deeper than he was ready to admit— yet something he couldn’t ignore, at least not anymore.

You don’t remember much about the end of yesterday. The fireworks felt like the only thing that was running in your mind. And Heeseung? You don’t seem to remember much about him in the ferris wheel—kept saying the fireworks were pretty or something?

Nevertheless, you were a hundred percent sure that your plan yesterday had worked. Although there may have been a few minor setbacks (Beomgyu hurling his guts out), you were pretty confident that Beomgyu might see you as his future girlfriend.

That’s why you sprang out of bed, determined to commence phase two of your plan.

Movie date with Choi Beomgyu.

Featuring the infamous Lee Heeseung sitting two rows away from you both.

Considering that today was the last day of school, you knew it was your final chance to get closer to Beomgyu. As you walked down the hallway together with Seori, you had your mandatory debriefing with her about the events that happened last night, reminiscing every sweet moment with Beomgyu.

“Oh my gosh!” Seori squealed, “You two are so cute together!”

You nodded your head, feeling proud about it. “ You finally talked to a real boy! I thought this day would never come!” Seori dramatically exclaimed, making your eyes roll as she clung onto your arms in excitement.

And as if on cue, Beomgyu came into view, stepping out of a classroom. To your surprise, he actually looked at you and waved.

He actually waved!

Trying to stay composed, you waved back with a soft smile, watching as he walked away. Seori in turn looked the most excited she’s ever been, squeezing your arm hard.

“He so wants you!” She said, playfully.

You bit your lip, trying to contain that flutter in your chest. “Hopefully.” You replied in a mutter, still slightly dazed.

But deep inside you, that flutter didn’t have that same kick to it. It almost felt unfamiliar. As if it was fading away, slowly slipping through your fingers.You weren’t sure why, but the thought of Beomgyu liking you didn’t bring as much joy as it did before.

What fueled you to continue was the pure determination that coursed through your veins. With that resolve, you left to go meet your matchmaker, Heeseung.

Which is how you found yourself in front of the broadcasting room again, later that day. You opened the door to see Heeseung there fiddling with some of the equipment.

“Hey Seung.” He turned around to see you heading towards him, his eyes softening a bit at the sight of you.

“Hey.” He quietly said, going back to adjusting some equipment.

“Why the long face?” You pouted, taking a seat next to him.

Well he would look like he was struck by lightning if you called him “seung” though that pretty mouth of yours, ever so softly. If only you knew how his heart was running miles when you said it so softly, making him melt at the sound of his name coming from your lips.

“Nothing.” He brushed it off.

“Hmm, you could tell me if something is bothering you.” You said, with sincerity. “Did I do something wrong?” You asked as you put your chin onto your hand, looking up at him with your doe eyes.

God, he was a goner.

“You’re fine, dork.” He finally smiled at you, ruffling your hair and going back to whatever he was working on.

You froze at the warmth in his gaze, but pushed the feeling aside. “Well in that case, do you wanna watch a movie with me?” You smiled, with hope in your eyes.

“You mean, me third-wheeling you and Beomgyu?” He rolled his eyes.

“Well, you are supposed to help me.” You huffed, making a point.

Heeseung glanced back at you once again seeing that pout on your face which made him sigh, “Fine, whatever.”

You squealed in excitement, hugging his arm as you were thrilled to hear his answer.

The day passed on quickly, and before you knew it, it was already seven o’clock and you were already waiting for Heeseung and Beomgyu outside the familiar bus stop again.

But this time, Heeseung came with the absence of Beomgyu. You wondered if he was coming later than expected or…if he wasn’t coming at all. The thought alone made you gulp.

“Where’s Beomgyu?” You looked behind Heeseung, desperate to see if he even was behind the tall figure.

“He did not take that rollercoaster ride well, long story short; he fell sick.” Heeseung dropped the devastating news.

You huffed in annoyance, “Is he okay? I saw him at school today.” You asked, voicing your sincerity.

“Yeah, he is. He took half a day.” Heeseung said, shoving his hands in his pocket, “Just needs rest.”

If it only wasn’t for Beomgyu’s weak immunity, you’d both be smooching in Hawaii! (or watching the movie, you could work with either.)

“Well, what are we going to do now! I already paid.” You pouted, crossing your arms in frustration.

Heeseung could only softly smile at your frustrated self. Just then, the bus arrived, and you looked at Heeseung, pursing your lips.

You grabbed his hand before heading inside the bus, “What are you doing?” Heeseung asked with startled eyes.

“I’m not wasting my money.” You muttered, as you sat on one of the seats in the bus while Heeseung scoffed at your response.

You and Heeseung ended up at your local cinema, watching the re-release of fucking Top Gun, a choice made because you thought Beomgyu would like it. On the other hand, Heeseung was having the time of his life, completely immersed in the world of guns and whatnot.

Pfft. Typical Nerd.

But you’d be lying if you didn’t think he was cute whenever he slightly flinched at the explosions on the screen. Not that cute though. Maybe… kinda… you weren’t sure!

You were just frustrated about not being seated next to Beomgyu. Instead it was just Heeseung sitting next to you. But a part of you didn’t mind, in fact it brought a small smile to your face.

You shuffled in your seat trying to shake off the uneasy feeling you got in your stomach whenever you thought about Heeseung.

Well you never felt like this in your whole seventeen years of living, and you sure didn’t feel like this with Beomgyu. It felt almost comforting with Heeseung. You both didn’t have to fill the silence every time, you could just feel at ease with each other’s presence. With Beomgyu, there were always butterflies roaming through your stomach, but with Heeseung you felt like you didn’t have to try to impress yourself, just you being there felt enough.

And a part of you didn’t care that you were sitting next to Heeseung watching this God awful movie, occasionally grazing hands whenever both of you reached into the popcorn bucket. But thank God that the movie ended because you couldn’t take another second of guns and explosions.

You both made your way out of the theatre in silence, though you couldn’t stop thinking about comparing your all time love with Heeseung. You were so immersed that you didn’t even notice the uneven sidewalk to the nearing bus station until it was too late. Well you did stumble, but before you could hit the ground, Heeseung caught you just in time again.

God, you’ve got to stop falling!

“When will you open your eyes?” Heeseung remarked with sarcasm and he let go.

You didn’t register the stupid remark Heeseung had said, as the pain in your ankle started becoming impossible to ignore. You looked down to realise that you probably strained your ankle.

“Ouch.” You winched at the pain, as you rubbed your leg.

“Are you okay?” Heeseung crouched down to get a better look.

“I don’t know, I think I strained it.” Heeseung only sighed at your answer.

He shaked his head slightly, facing away from you as he was crouching so you could climb onto his back, “Come on, get on.”

“What? Heeseung, I can walk.” You said, though you definitely could not. But you weren’t getting on his back after your little thought session at the movies.

But your protests were a waste because before you knew it, you were on his back, holding onto his shoulders as he carried you.

“You’re lighter than I thought.” Heeseung teased, keeping his tone light.

You hit his back lightly as you retorted, “I’m not that light.” Though a small reluctantly found its way to your face.

Heeseung walked towards the bus station, while you rested your head on his shoulder, kicking your legs in a trace of rhythm while occasionally talking with Heeseung, though most of it was Heeseung humming along to whatever mindless thoughts you voiced.

It almost felt like you knew him for most of your life. It felt so soothing with him, his little teases making you whine. His way of looking at you like you were the most fragile thing on earth. His way of making you smile whenever you felt sad.

It felt like he was the one.

But he isn’t.

Beomgyu is.

That’s what you kept telling yourself as Heeseung slowly crept up your heart. What you didn’t know was that Heeseung felt the same. Almost like two idiots in denial. Typical.

Once you got onto the train, you sat side by side in silence, the gentle ride on the bus with occasional bumps lulled you into a peaceful state. You pulled out your headphones and handed one to Heeseung, “Here.”

The soft melody of “스물다섯, 스물하나 “ by JAURIM flowed into your eyes, making this moment feel like a scene from a movie. Without realising, you leaned your head on his shoulder, the day’s events catching up to you. And before you knew it, you drifted off into a long sleep.

Heeseung glanced down at you, a small smile played on his lips as he watched. He couldn't help but think how adorable you looked even if you were doing almost as nothing as sleeping against him. The wind from the open window made a few strands of hair fall onto your face, he gently grazed your face, tucking them behind your ear.

And the moment you shifted closer to him in your sleep, he knew he was done for.

Time passed quickly. It was already December. As the end of the school year approached, with graduation just around the corner, the broadcasting club decided to put in their two cents in the yearbook signing party. And Soobin thought a photo booth would be the perfect inclusion for it, so students could take a picture with their friends one last time.

And naturally, you and Heeseung were assigned to watch over the photobooth while the other members were assigned to different parts of the party such as the memory lane. You were manning the table with Heeseung while Seori and Sunghoon came over to your stand.

“Seori! You came!” You squealed at the sight of your best friend hand in hand with Sunghoon. “Hi Sunghoon.”

He waved at you with a smile, “We wanted to get a few pictures before it gets too crowded. Plus I had to drag him here.” Seori said, giving you the needed money.

“Yeah, she wouldn’t take no for an answer.” He teased Seori, gently ruffling her hair as she whined.

Seori slightly nudged Sunghoon before fixing her hair for the pictures. You and Heeseung could only chuckle at their playful banter.

“Right away, lovebirds.” You snickered with Heeseung at the sight of the two while Seori glared at you, mouthing ‘says you’ while eyeing Heeseung as well.

Uncalled for…

Seori pulled in Sunghoon in the booth, Sunghoon taking the initiative to pull her onto his lap as she giggled. They shared cute and goofy pictures with Seori giving Sunghoon a kiss on the cheek at the end.

“They’re cute.” You mumbled to Heeseung.

“I guess.” Heeseung smiled with you, glancing at you occasionally.

After Seori and Sunghoon left, time went faster as the crowd started to fill up the Gym. The line for the photo booth became longer. Seori decided to join your table for a while to cure her boredom while Sunghoon played with his friends in the court. Just in time, Beomgyu showed up, revealing who was next in line.

And before you knew it, you were squished in the photo booth with Beomgyu on one end and Heeseung at the other, Seori taking up the remaining space at the far end. “Move over!” Beomgyu giggled while pushing you more against Heeseung. Instinctively, Heeseung wrapped his arm around you, his hand brushing against your waist as he pulled you in.

A mix of nervousness and excitement rushed over you, as the same familiar warmth settled in your stomach. It wasn’t because of the tight space but because of how close Heeseung was to you. The warmth of his hand against your waist sent shivers down your spine.

The camera's flash went off a few times, capturing the moments with you four. Beomgyu had put on whatever goofy face he could come up with and Seori had her signature peace sign up while a small smile rested on Heeseung’s face.

As the evening wore on, the crowd started to disappear. Students gathered their belongings, bidding each other goodbye. A strange sense of nostalgia washed over you, feeling emotional that this could be the last time you’d be talking with these students. Karina, Jungwon, and Rei had bid you goodbye as they left after taking down the memory lane they had set up.

Taehyun and Lia had come in later as they were busy with student body council stuff, but wished you and Heeseung both a quick goodbye before they left as well. And before you knew it, it was only you and Heeseung with a few other students roaming around the Gym. You glanced at Heeseung who was organising the leftover photostrips, carefully putting them into one of the brown boxes beside him.

A small smile played on your lips, “You wanna take some pictures? Just us two.”

Heeseung looked up at you with his bambi eyes, a smile on his face. “Sure.” He agreed.

The two of you slipped inside the photo booth, and all of a sudden the air felt different. The atmosphere hung something heavy, waiting to be acknowledged. You sat fairly close together, trying to settle in.

Heeseung started the timer and sat back down with a smile. You barely had time to think before the first flash went off catching you off guard. This made you laugh, along with Heeseung. The other flashes were followed by playful poses, you placing a peace sign behind Heeseung’s head and Heeseung pinching your cheeks.

Before the last flash went off, you felt a shift in the atmosphere. That feeling started becoming impossible to ignore. Heeseung turned to look at you just as you turned towards you. Your eyes met. Suddenly everything around you was a blur. It was just Heeseung in focus. The boy who months ago got on your nerves. The silent chatter outside became white noise for you.

Heeseung’s gaze softened, your eyes never left him. The final flash went off going unnoticed. Before you even processed what was going on, he leaned in. HIs lips gently brushing against yours, your eyes instinctively closing.

It felt soft, careful, yet why did your heart feel like it was going to leap out of your chest. His hands grazed your cheek pulling you closer as you reciprocated the kiss, earning him to pull even closer. It felt so raw yet so gentle. The kiss lasted a few seconds, yet it felt like an eternity. You were so far gone. You don’t seem to remember anything.

When you finally pulled away, you both looked at each other, out of breath as you were stunned in silence.

Just then, you heard someone’s voice from outside. “Heeseung?” It was Soobin, his voice laced in urgency.

Heeseung blinked out of his daze, pulling himself outside the photobooth after opening the curtain that divided the photobooth from the outside. “I–I’m here!” He called out, his voice shaken up.

“Can you help me carry these boxes to the storage room? Miss Lee wants them gone by now.” He huffed, handing one of the boxes to Heeseung.

Heeseung glanced back at you, sitting in the photo booth still shaken up by that stunt Heeseung pulled. He only gulped and looked back at Soobin. “Yeah sure.” Though he didn’t have another choice as Soobin already shoved the box in his face.

“Thanks dude.” Soobin smiled and headed out the Gym with Heeseung. Heeseung looked back at you one last time before exiting the Gym, the kiss replaying in his head over and over again.

You sat there for a moment, still not being able to process what just happened. Your heart was pounding like crazy, almost trying to jump out of your chest. The vibrations of your heart beat reached your chest, followed by your uneven breathing. Yet despite all of this chaos, you could still feel the warmth of his lips on yours.

You still feel the presence of him next to you. Slowly, a small smile crept onto your kiss. After you collected yourself, you finally stepped out of the photobooth. Your heart was still racing as you pulled at the photo strip hanging from the slot. As you looked at the photostrip, the last shot catched your attention, making you snicker to yourself.

You probably look like a crazy woman right now.

The one before the last shot caught your attention–the one right before the kiss. There was something with the way he looked at you, something you had noticed before, but didn’t care for. And now that you realised what it meant, you couldn’t look away.

And it was then, standing outside the photobooth alone got you to realise just how much you liked this moment. You liked that kiss. You liked Heeseung. The thought alone hit you like a ton of bricks. All this time, you’d been so focused on Beomgyu yet It was Heeseung all along, standing right infront you yet you were so blind.

The once crush on Beomgyu that had felt so secure was torn by in seconds through that kiss. All that you knew was crushed by the boy you thought was stuck up and a geek.

Heeseung didn’t know what to do. He was in a state of confusion. Why did he kiss you? He knows you like Beomgyu. And why did you kiss him back? You like Beomgyu. Heeseung thought of himself as so fucking stupid. Why did he leave you like that? He wanted to hug you so badly and pour everything that he was holding in. He didn’t know what to do with these overwhelming amount of emotions. And all of these emotions were ones he felt for you. Not anyone else.

The days that followed the kiss were a blur, he’d been stuck in his bed, ignoring every call that Beomgyu made or any other friend of his. All he could do was sigh and rethink that day at the photobooth.

He couldn’t face Beomgyu right now knowing it was your heart that belonged to him and he sure couldn’t look at you, after knowing you liked someone else. The realisation pierced him, leaving a nasty sting.

On the other hand, you cursed the timing for making you and Heeseung kiss right at the end of the school year. You sulked, knowing you couldn’t see Heeseung after this, having to wait a month to see him in person. So you could only take the landline and call him.

What was strange is that he didn’t pick.

Again and again.

Was he…ignoring you?

As more days passed, his absence left a hole in you. It hurt like a bitch. Seori visited occasionally only to meet your dull self. You were grateful you had your best friend by your side who comforted you everytime you slipped out a sob. Your heart winced at each time the call would go to voicemail. You knew you couldn’t take it anymore so you called your last hope.

Choi Beomgyu.

“Hey, can we talk? In person.” You said, keeping it short.

Moments later, you met him at the local park, the sight bringing memories of where you and Heeseung talked. Fuck.

“Hey, what’s up?” Beomgyu asked, taking a seat on the bench which you followed shortly after.

“Has…Heeseung been ignoring you?” You asked, your voice filled with hesitation.

Beomgyu let out a long sigh and leaned back, looking up at the night sky. “I don’t know why, he’s never been like this.”

So he has.

“I even went to his house, but his mom just said he’s going through some kind of phase. I don’t get it dude. It’s all so confusing,” Beomgyu mindlessly ranted, “Did he ignore you too? I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“He did.” You answered, “And I think it’s all my fault.”

Beomgyu furrowed his eyebrows, looking at you now. “What happened?”

Taking a deep breath, you began, “Beomgyu, I like you. Or at least I liked you. “ You mentally winced at the sight of his eyes widening. “But now, I think I like Heeseung. Like a lot. And… we kissed in the photo booth that day, but after that, he just ran off.”

“Like the coward he is.” Beomgyu scoffed, clearly annoyed at his best friend’s loser-ish behaviour.

“And now, he probably still thinks I have feelings for you. I wanna tell him that I like him, he just won’t pick up.” You sulked, trying not to let the tears that formed in your eye fall.

“Hey, hey.” Beomgyu rubbed his hand against your back to comfort you,”He probably feels guilty about this, that’s probably why he’s shutting everyone out. I’m really sorry this happened, but…I think all we could do for now is to wait for him until he’s ready. He’s probably overwhelmed by everything.” He sighed.

“I know Beomgyu, I just want to talk to him so bad. I want to clear everything up. I just want to see him.” You said, your voice shaky.

“Hey, if it’s hurting you this much… I’ll try and talk to him. I’ll try to get through to him.” Beomgyu said, his voice gentle

You sniffed, wiping a stray tear. “Thank you.”

“If it makes you stop crying.” He said with a smile.

You went back home with a comforted heart which was still hurting a bit. If you could only see Heeseung, everything would be cured. You’d give him the biggest hug and tell him everything you’ve been holding on to.

As you looked at the landline hanging on the wall, you leaned against the cold wall of your hallway. You picked the phone, dialling the familiar number once again.

Ring.

Each ring felt like an eternity. You gripped the phone even tighter, desperate that he’d pick up. A lump appeared in your throat as the tears that were once gone came back and rested against your eyes, threatening to fall out.

“Please pick up…Please.” You voiced out in a whisper.

It went to voicemail.

You let out the breath you’d been holding. You let go of the telephone you had been holding. The ears that had been stinging your eyes finally fell out as you let out a sob. You just hoped he didn’t hate you and you hoped that he’d pick up your calls tomorrow.

It had been days since Heeseung and you talked. Ever since that kiss, he hasn’t talked to you or Beomgyu. But what could he do? He didn’t seem to know. Christmas Eve had arrived, a time usually filled with warmth, joy, yet he just couldn’t shake that dreaded feeling off him.

The slowly softly landed on the concrete outside the house, the night displaying the bright stars. He trudged out the house carrying a garbage bag to dispose of it.

Meanwhile, Beomgyu stood outside his house, padded up in his winter coat, his breath made visible in the air. He watched Heeseung’s dull self make a boring chore even more boring. He had been waiting a while for Heeseung to come out the house, and to his luck, Heeseung’s timing couldn’t be more perfect.

Though Heeseung didn’t see him at first since his mind was scattered somewhere else, Beomgyu knew just what to do. He crouched down to grab a handful of snow and made a makeshift snowball or war weapon as Beomgyu would like to call it.

Before Heeseung could even turn back, a snowball suddenly smacked him in his back. Startled, Heeseung turned around quickly as his eyes landed on the mischievous boy.

He groaned, “Seriously?” He brushed the snow off his jacket, sighing at the annoying act.

Beomgyu only smiled, crouching down once again to throw another. This time, it went straight to his arm and Heeseung could only sigh at his childish acts.

“What do you want?” Heeseung asked, feeling annoyed.

“Came to talk.” Beomgyu said, stepping closer. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?”

Heeseung raised his eyes at the insult, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do.” Beomgyu gazed at the boy, “You like Y/n.”

His heart skipped a beat at the mention of your name, “I mean I get it, She’s pretty.”

Heeseung’s eyes narrowed straight at him, a shot of jealousy hit him, “Dude.”

Beomgyu smiled at his reaction, “So you do like her.” He laughed.

“That doesn’t matter anymore. I fucked up.” He sighed.

The older boy shook his head, “You don’t know her. I mean have you talked to her?”

“I just don’t want to.” Heeseung said, a shaky voice emitted through his throat. “I’m…scared of what she’s going to say.”

Beomgyu sighed at his friend’s foolishness but he didn’t want to be the one to break the news of you liking him back, “You never know until you try. You should talk to her.”

Beomgyu's words had left Heeseung cluttered with thoughts. He should really talk to you. Yet he still was running away from the idea of having to do anything with you. For all he could know, he might’ve really fucked up your friendship and he jus did not want to face that.

Heeseung started at the ground, his voice soft as a whisper, “I’m sorry I ignored you. It was stupid of me to do that.”

Beomgyu put his hand around him as a warm, understanding gesture. “You are. But you’re my best friend. You can talk to me, you know?”

The taller boy only nodded at his words, “You know, Jay is having a christmas party now.” He said after a moment. “You should come.”

Heeseung glanced at the boy, hesitation ran through his face but he could only nod before Boemgyu grinned at him, taking him away from his house as he headed towards Jay’s.

The cold didn’t seem to be biting anymore for Heeseung. He finally felt the relief and the comfort of christmas. The warmth of the christmas lights finally rushed towards him as he finally put on a smile to be reconciled with his best friend.

Now all he had to do was talk to you.

The warm air buzzed with sweaty teenagers and booze in every corner. There were a few garlands thrown around here and there, but that was just for the name of calling this a christmas party, though Jay just wanted to talk to girls. You were squished against some sophomores with Seori, trying to get past the drunk teenagers and head to the kitchen for some water.

“Hey, did you see Sunghoon?” Seori asked, looking around.

“No, you should probably ask Jay. I see him at the entrance.” You suggested, while taking two water bottles out the fridge. “Here.” You passed on to your best friend.

“Okay, don’t get lost or get into trouble! No drugs!” She shouted as she dived back into the pile of drunk teenagers.

After a while, you went back into the living room, already regretting coming back into the crowd. Suddenly, a voice rang through your ears making you turn your head.

“Hi Y/n! Didn’t know you came!” Beomgyu exclaimed, hugging you with one hand while his other was occupied with a beer.

“Yeah, Seori kinda forced me to come.” You said, with a hearty laugh. “Is he… here?” You asked, with hope.

Beomgyu smiled as he grinned, “He’s at the back. You should talk to him.” He nudged you.

You smiled, thanking him as you left to see Heeseung. The thought of seeing him brought that warm feeling back in you. Something you missed feeling. At that moment, you realised how much of a void he left in you when he went M.I.A.

He was standing there, looking slightly out of place. His bambi eyes still managed to shine through the dark setting. You took in a deep breath and went up to him.

“Heeseung. Hi.”

Heeseung’s heartbeat quickened. He gulped looking over you. “Hey, Y/n.”

“How are you?” You said, trying to engage in small talk knowing you wanted more than to hug him and clear everything up.

“I’m well. Finally got out of the house.” He slowly spoke, taking a sip out of his red cup. “How bout you?”

“I’m okay…” To be honest, you weren’t. You had spent so much time thinking about Heeseung and your feelings and how that whole moment at the photobooth felt. Just the thought of him and your countless failed attempts at calling him never left your mind.

“You never picked up.” You curtly said. “I was…waiting for you.”

“I’m so sorry Y/n. I never meant to ignore you.” He said, coming closer to you. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“I’d never.” You smiled sincerely, looking up at him.

He smiled at that. “Merry Christmas Y/n.” The boy said softly, a small smile played on his lips.

You giggled as you came closer. “Merry Christmas Seung.”

The tension between you both wore away. It felt normal again. It felt like the same old you and the same old Heeseung. And you liked how it was right now.

But just as you were about to say something more, Jake spoke up. “Yo, you guys are standing under the mistletoe.” He yelled as he pointed at the sprig of mistletoe above you both.

“KISS! KISS! KISS!” The chants echoed throughout the room, and all you could look at was how flushed Heeseung looked. You needed to let him know that you liked him now. You weren’t able to let out the words before so you took a step closer to him.

You could see how red his ears were to which you smiled at. Cute. As you looked at him for consent through your doe eyes, he took the cue to hook his hands around your waist, filling the gap between you two. You instinctively put your arms around his necks, bringing his face closer to you.

Just as Heeseung leaned in closer, with his breath feeling warm against your skin. Jay suddenly barged through the crowd, his voice loud enough to cut through the speaker’s music. You just caught him and just like that he slipped through your fingers.

“Shit, Y/n!”

You turned around startled, unconsciously pushing Heeseung away. “What’s wrong?”

“Seori’s crying.” Jay said, in a quieter voice.

Your heart immediately sank, the moment you both had immediately fading away.

“Fuck, is she okay?” You asked, voicing your concern.

“Man, is this kiss gonna happen?” Jake said, tired of waiting.

“Shut the fuck up, man!” You yelled before following Jay with Heeseung.

Echoes of boos could be heard through the room, but you didn’t care about that. The only thing in your mind was Seori. You just hoped nothing intense happened.

You were left to see a distressed Seori, bawling while Beomgyu patted her back. “Seori, what’s wrong?” You asked, in a gentle manner, wiping the tears off her face.

“Sunghoon—kissed Junhee!” Seori hiccuped.

You immediately hugged her, her sniffles now becoming muffled. “I thought—we had something!”

The tears soaked through your shirt as you as she let out uncontrollable sobs. You have never seen her like this in all of your seventeen years of living. It honestly broke your heart to see her in this state and realising how much that douchebag meant to her after countlessly brushing off the times you’ve teased her about being wrapped around his finger.

It fucking sucked to see your best friend being torn into bits all because she liked a boy. You were too much into comforting Soeri that you completely forgot about your surroundings—even Heeseung.

“Let’s go home, okay?” You spoke in a gentle manner, squeezing her tight as you spoke to which she only nodded.

You headed out the door, thanking Beomgyu and Jay. Heeseung mindlessly followed you two, a soft look on his face.

As you led Seori out the party and onto the porch, her sobs got quieter as she hiccuped occasionally. The air fresh from December hit your face, the windy atmosphere almost feeling harsher towards you.

You finally let her out of your grip to let her collect herself and cool off a bit. You friend to Heeseung who was already looking at you with the light from the street lamps shining through his eyes.

“I’m..sorry we didn’t get to talk.” You mumbled, looking at him through your eyelashes.

“Don’t apologise. You did the right thing.” He reassured you with a soft smile, rubbing your arm as a gesture of comfort which made you smile back.

“We can always talk later, dork.”

You missed him calling you that. You missed everything he did.

“Merry Christmas, Seung.” You said, tiptoeing to kiss him on the cheek.

His eyes sprightly widened at that. He honestly couldn’t believe his eyes. A pretty girl just kissed him—correction; the prettiest girl in the world just kissed him. He felt like he won the lottery and the price was you.

“Merry Christmas Y/n. Get home safe.” He said, as you walked away from him, hand in hand with Seori who was deep in her thoughts.

You waved towards him, your attention on him now converting to Seori who was beside you as you both headed to her house.

Heeseung touched the sticky mark that your lipgloss left on his cheek. The warmth of your small kiss still lingered on his cheek. As you disappeared from his sight, he knew he had to pour his heart and soul to the girl who had stolen his heart.

You always thought of spending a new year’s eve party at someone’s house, drinking booze and dancing with people left and right. But you realised, this year felt different. You leaned against the cold window of your bedroom, it was slightly drizzling outside. The sound of your tv turned on for the new year’s parade complimented the white noise you could hear from outside your room.

It felt almost lonely, you turned around looking at the scenery of the night, the stars resting against the night sky. You had already beeped Seori through your pager but she has yet to call you, leaving you wondering what she was up to now.

Suddenly, a small thud against the window jolted you from your thoughts. Startled, you turned around to see the commotion outside. As you peered out the window, you saw four familiar figures standing outside your house, one of them wiggling a bag of soju bottles and snacks.

Ofcourse, they’d show up unannounced.

You rolled your eyes at the sight of Seori, Beomgyu and Heeseung showing up in front of your door, to your surprise. You quickly went downstairs to let them inside and showed them to your bedroom.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, as you sat down on the cold floor where you were once seated.

“Saving your ass from a boring new year, duh!” Seori said, placing the bottles on the floor as she took a seat next to you.

“You guys really didn’t have to do this.” You said, though your eyes went up to Heeseung, like he was the only person who was in the room. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of that glow that he gave.

“Ey, it was more an excuse just to get black out drunk.” Beomgyu nudged your rib cage after sitting down next to you as Heeseung sat in front of you, not a ward out of his mouth.

As the night progressed, you four got comfortable and you later found out how much of a good pair Seori mixed with Beomgyu was. Though, you didn’t expect them to actually stick to their words and get wasted. Laughter echoed from them every five minutes and long before you knew it, Seori started blabbering mindless words while Beomgyu giggled at the smallest thing.

“Beomgyu, what do you know about love?” Seori said, as she spread her legs, lying on the floor.

“Love?” Beomgyu giggled, “That’s funny.”

“Hey, have you ever been in love?” Seori mumbled to him.

“With soju, yeah.” He joked, earning a light hit from Seori.

“You kids still have to experience the heartbreak to know what love is.” Seori scoffed, her hands on her stomach as she looked at the ceiling. It was clear she was referencing what happened to her a few days ago.

Heeseung had now gotten closer, sitting right next to you. You both hadn’t talked about what happened that night, leaving unspoken words in the air. Though you both had eased in the awkwardness and got to talking a lot, not minding the two drunkards.

“She’s so funny when she’s drunk.” You laughed at her state.

“Beomgyu’s worse.” Heeseung added in.

“They make a good match.” You said, sighing at their foolishness. Heeseung smiling along with you.

A few hours, closer to midnight. Seori and Beomgyu were passed out, only leaving you two up to witness going into the new millennium.

“It’s almost midnight.” You pointed out, as crowds started to appear at the sighting for the fireworks, you intently watched it through the small tv you had in your room.

“Yeah,” Heeseung replied, his voice low and soft.

“Hey listen, I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day.” He said, making you go back to the night of Christmas Eve, the thought leaving a fresh mark in your mind.

You turned to look at Heeseung who was already staring at you with his bambi eyes.

“I think this is long overdue,” He sighed. “But I just wanted to tell you that I like you, a lot. More than just a friend. You’re really pretty and you’re such a dork, it makes me go crazy.” He slightly chuckled, making you smile at his silly speech.

“I mean every single word I say. I don’t think I can start the new year by not telling you how you make me go crazy.” He softly said.

You had no words.

You realised you couldn't make up a small speech like his. It felt like too much to say. You had been pushing away your feelings for him, because you were too into Beomgyu’s handsome face. But after him opening your eyes wide, you realised the pretty boy sitting next to you was all you could ask for your new year’s wish. You looked at him through your eyelashes, your mouth slightly agape.

You just wanted to kiss him.

So why not?

You leaned in, ever so slightly. You kissed him. The world outside seemed to slowly fade away. The countdown on the tv and the gentle snores from Seori and Beomgyu served as background noise. You could practically hear your heartbeat along with Heeseung’s. You could feel the slight taste of soju as his warm lips pressed against yours, his hand slowly reached its way to the back of your neck to pull you in closer. It felt like his lips against yours was the only thing that mattered.

3! 2! 1!

The fireworks started.

The kiss started in 1999 and ended in 2000, the clock struck twelve as the new year came in. You pulled away, exhaling that breath you didn't know you held in. You couldn’t help but giggle softly, as he finally cracked a smile.

“I like you too, alot.” You looked at him, he rested his forehead against yours. “Guess I fell for the wrong best friend.”

“I guess I fell for a dork.” He joked, earning a slight tap on his chest by your hand. “At least, that dork is mine, I hope.”

“I’d love to be yours, dork.”

Heeseung smiled at that, pecking you quickly. “Happy new year, dork.”

“Happy new year, Seung.” You replied, emotions filling you full.

He found his way to your lips again, kissing you with a tighter grip, and in that moment, you finally caught him—you weren’t letting the boy go anywhere. The boy who intimidated you at first, who called you a dork and now his, who cleaned your wounds and gave you piggyback rides. The boy who was your first love, now leaving him to adore you.

❨ READ MORE ❩ ៸៸ loading tapes . . .

adore you tags . @wonsbaer @isoobie @armydrcamers @heegyuwrld @nxxz-skz @txtlyn @enhastolemyheart @positivelyinlovewithjungwon @sumzysworld @eleanorheartschishiya @petalsofink @bluujeans @jvjsssnaa @iamliacamila @m3chigo @oldjws @kyrjnie @heartswonn @aeminju @en-dream @yeahsspider @imstupidcheesecat

perm tags . @zuyairus @bubblytaetae @yenqa @redm4ri @miumura @haechansbbg @taejaysreads @shinunoga-iie-wa @teddywonss @dioll @isoobie @dimplewonie @jennaissantes @aishigrey

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎prod yeokii ! do not copy, repost, translate any of my works

422 notes · View notes

spliffymae · 9 months

Text

forgotten connie drabble (18+ mdni)

★　*　　°　　　　🛰 　°. 🌓　•　　.°•　　　🚀

“SURPRISE!”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY CONNIE!”

you moved to the side once you were inside, coming in behind the man of the hour himself. sasha had been running rampant to throw him an amazing surprise party. and you were in on it, tasked with bringing connie home from work and acting as if you know nothing about what the current day was.

which proved to be hard the second connie got into your car after putting his bag in the back seat. “ahh shit! they got mi cielita to take me out. where we going, mami?” connie was grinning ear to ear as he looked at you, dimples popping below red freckled cheeks.

he was so cute, and you were gonna hate to do this but, “what’re you on about, springer?” you scrunched your face up in confusion at him. you then quickly looked ahead to pull out the parking lot. if you looked at him for too long you were sure you’d crack.

connie rolled his eyes, not buying your ignorance. “oh stop that, y’know what i’m talking bout.” he said as he buckled himself in and then reclined the passenger seat.

with the strongest will you could muster, you kept up the confusion, looking back at him and with a quirked brow, “you got a game or sum?” you asked, knowing damn well he had nothing going on today. his birthday happened to land on the off day for ball practice AND track practice, not to mention he didn’t have class either.

now, when sasha told you to act like you forgot that his birthday was today, she failed to mention to you that it was something connie’s mother had done plenty of times in his life…not as a joke, though.

connie really cared about four women in his life: you, sasha, his little sister, and his mom. so you forgetting his day took a pin to his bubble and popped the fuck out of it. he didn’t dwell on the subject anymore, changing to now talk about your days. however, connie was feeling down on the inside. all his friends had wished him a happy birthday either via call, text, or social media post. have you not been on your phone today?

when you pulled up to his and sasha’s shared apartment, you flashed him a smile but it was not reciprocated. connie was staring ahead, zoned out in thought. so much so he doesn’t feel you turn the car off or hear you call his name.

“con” you pushed his shoulder slightly, getting him to snap out of his own head.

“hm?”

“we’re at your place. is it cool if i come up to use the bathroom?” you usually wouldn’t say anything and invite yourself into his apartment. days when you’d get him we’re days you set aside to hang with him. but today seems to be different. connie wondered if you had made plans that made you forget about his birthday.

“uh yeah, sure.” he said lowly. he reached back to grab his backpack and with that, got out the car. you could see the defeat in his walk towards the doors. he was mumbling to himself, more times trying to dissect what the hell was going on with you. because you wouldn’t just forget, right?

you got out the car and sped walk to catch up, sending sasha a quick text to let her know yall were back. you also cussed her for telling you to do this to connie, knowing how pouty he gets.

the walk to the elevator was quite, along with you two getting off at his floor and going to his apartment. however, before connie turned the key he put into the lock, he turned to you. his eyes were glossed over and cheeks dusted with a crimson red. he was chewing on his bottom lip, hazel eyes filled with worry. “did i do something, mami? you mad at me?”

and oh my god you wanted to break the act right there…but you were RIGHT THERE.

you blinked, “what do you mean, con? why would i be?” you wanted him to just open the door. once he opened the door you could drop the act, you could give him all the birthday love you were holding in since midnight.

connie let out a sigh and turned back around, giving up on the matter and turning the lock to go in. the day was no longer felt good. what good was a birthday if the one person he wanted to spend it with forgot about it?

when the door opened, connie walked inside and turned on the light and was immediately met with screams, cheers, and camera lights in his face.

which brings us here, to where he freezes and looks around at his friends from his basketball team, work, childhood, and sasha standing in the middle with a cake.

connie spent a good couple seconds taking everything in, he was slightly embarrassed to say once he believed you had forgotten he immediately forgot the day, choosing to just wallow in his room as he smoked a spliff.

you took a step forward, hands behind your back and coming up on his right. “happy birthday, connie.” you bumped him with your hip, once again snapping him out of his own head and bringing him back to the present.

the big, toothy smile he had in your car came back, now decorated with deep dimples and eyes watery with tears of appreciation.

just as he was about to say something to you, jean pulled him away, leaving you two with an unfinished conversation.

•　　.°•

you were talking to sasha in the kitchen as connie was socializing with all his guests. he hadn’t had the chance to come back to you just yet, but you weren’t worried. you didn’t plan on going anywhere.

“i told you! he’s so brain dead when it comes to you that he’ll completely forget everything. did you see how lost he looked when he saw us?” sasha was so happy that her plan had turned out well. she knew her best friend well enough to know it wasn’t going to take a lot to get his mind off his literal day of birth. not when you were the one thing that stayed on his mind and could pull his attention from anything.

you playfully rolled your eyes, “i still hated seeing how sad he looked. why didn’t you tell me i was damn near triggering him?!” you were nursing your second cup of a mimosa, slightly tipsy.

sasha giggled. she, on the other hand, had been four shots in from when you guys came in. “i forgot. but it’s all good now. oop—here he comes.” before you knew it, sasha had stepped away and now connie was in your space.

his eyes were low and bloodshot, having just come back from a hotbox with his guys in the car. “mami, you really are sum special.” he grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together and pulling you to be flush against him.

you smiled, “sasha made me, pa. you know i would never forget your day.” you traced his lips with your finger, your acrylic nail going along his prominent cupids bow. connie held your hand still and kissed your finger, then moved your hand so it was at the back of his head. it brought you closer into his space, his cologne taking over your senses. he loweeeed his head to touch yours, looking in your eyes.

“¿dónde está mi regalo, princesa? his hands trailed up from your waist to your back, to your elbow and then shoulder. he tucked one of your locs behind your ear, staring at you as if you held both the moon and the stars. “i been dying to unwrap it” his eyes were scanning all over your face, taunting you with his hidden meaning.

“quiero mi pastel, ma. soy hambriento.” he undid the button with ease, bringing you to gasp and instinctively grip the small curls on the back of his neck.

“later.” you said softly, giving him a sweet smile to match. but connie smirked with wickedness, red eyes gleaming of mischief. his hand trailed back down to the waistband of your baggy pants.

“c-con.” you could feel his long and slender fingers pad over your core. he pressed his index and his middle against your clit, sending a jolt up your spine. “this party’s for you.” you bit your lip when you felt him move them in a circular motion, the wetness of your pussy dampening your panties.

“it’s my birthday, right? i can do whatever i want, right?” you were gonna answer, but then he pushed your panties to the side. he had rubbed your lips to collect your slick on his fingers, and slowly began to push them inside of you. your mouth opened, but no words came out.

“oh princesa, did you forget how to talk? just like how you forgot papi’s birthday?” he tsked, shaking his head, “made me so sad. y’know” the force of his thrusts picked up, knocking you back to grip the edge of the counter behind up. “a mean joke you guys pulled on me.”

“pa…i-i can’t be quiet” you panicked, looking at connie with worrisome eyes. he knew you were a screamer, fuck it was what he loved about you. pleasure would overwhelm you quick and all your composure would go flying out the window. you got animalistic when you’d approach your peak, and connie never missed the chance to see it. but today, you were doing your best to show restraint the clench of your jaw let him know you really wanted to get it out but were resisting.

connie took his other hand to rub a thumb on your clit, turning his ears off to anything that wasn’t your faulty breaths or straggled moans. “hm…guess i forgot.”

#🌞🍃spliffymae #connie springer x black!reader #anime x black!reader #aot x black reader #attack on titan #connie x black reader #aot #aot smut #connie smut #connie x black y/n #ﾟ aot╤╤｡ 𖠋

3K notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 8 months

Note

Hey love, im back to plague you with another idea...

A situationship / budding relationship james x reader where shes the Black brothers sister, but every time one of them catchs the two of them alone they physically pick her up and just walk away with that menacing Black stare.

Tysm love x

Thanks for requesting sweetheart!

James Potter x Black!reader ♡ 911 words

“Do you really think this is the best place to hang out?” you ask James, eyeing the closet in his dorm as if you’re brother’s going to come popping out.

“It’ll be fine,” he promises you in that optimistic, sure-footed way of his.

From the way Regulus had talked about Sirius’ friends at Hogwarts, you’d expected James to be insufferable. Arrogant, entitled, the true embodiment of the mask your oldest brother puts on when he’s here at school. But you’d discovered when you’d arrived that Sirius’ goofy friend wasn’t the James Potter you were warned about. He was self-assured, certainly. Confident, but in the years you’ve known him it’s never seemed like anything more sinister than that. James doesn’t walk into every room like he owns it; he walks in like it’s home. He brings that everywhere with him—that feeling of home, of belonging. It seeps into you when you’re with him, and to your brother’s acute repugnance, you’re with him more and more these days.

“Remus is off with Lily, and Sirius got pulled aside by coach after practice, so he’ll be on the pitch running drills for a good hour yet,” James goes on. He sits down on his bed, and you follow suit. “Plus, your dorm is occupied and this is the only other semi-private place I could think of.” His smile goes a bit sheepish as he shrugs, one-shouldered and boyish.

You catch his meaning—the privacy carries implications neither of you are ready to act on—and you’ve got no reason to feel awkward about that but a nervous laugh fizzes up out of you anyway. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you admit. Though Sirius is far from unaware of this blossoming whatever between you and James, neither of you are keen on him finding out through the grapevine that you were seen canoodling in the hallways. Privacy is ideal. “So, I’m guessing practice went better for you than it did for him?”

James shrugs again, the show of humility making you both grin. You can never seem to stop doing that around him. “Yeah,” he says, “practice for a seeker is pretty straightforward. Less strategy to it, so I guess I got off easy.”

“You make it sound like Sirius isn’t just hitting things with a bat,” you deadpan, and he laughs. The sound feels like sunbeams shooting straight into your gut.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” he hedges. “But hey, are you coming to the party after the match on Saturday?”

“Is there still going to be a party if you lose?”

James fixes you with a look. “We never lose, sweetheart.”

Another giggle bubbles out of you, though the joke isn’t really that hilarious. You secretly love when James calls you names like that. It makes your heart do all sorts of funny, acrobatic things. You don’t love that it’s probably not so secret, and he can almost definitely tell. His eyes go warm now, a knowing smile playing on the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah,” you say, “I’ll think about it.”

“You should come,” he encourages, leaning his hands back on the mattress. You very pointedly do not let your eyes linger on his forearms as he does so. “It’d make me happy to see you there.”

“You’re always happy,” you tease.

“That’s because you only see me when I’m seeing you.” You must look confused, because James’ clarifies, voice softening slightly, “I can’t help but be happy when I’m with you, sweetheart.”

The combined effect of the words, the tone of his voice, the sweet way he’s looking at you—it starts up more than butterflies in your stomach. There’s got to be a whole ecosystem in there by now, with buzzing bees and jumping frogs and everything. You look down, a half-hearted effort to hide the smile that takes you.

“James,” you murmur, lightly chiding.

The door comes open, and your brother’s eyes widen as they take in you on James’ bed, his hand an inch away from your leg and both of you looking terribly caught. Then they narrow.

“James Potter, zip your pants back up right this instant!”

“Sirius!” you exclaim, and there’s no lightness to this chiding, your face heating with mortification. You glance at James’ zipper, just to be sure—and yup, it’s fully closed, everything contained—and then glance quickly away, horrified all over again that you’d looked.

“We weren’t even doing anything,” you seethe, knowing your stare matches your brother’s as you glower at each other from across the room. “What are you even doing back?”

Sirius rolls his eyes, utilizing that older brother’s insouciance he knows gets under your skin like nothing else. “It seems you’ve gotten turned around. These are the boys’ dorms.” His words drip venom onto the dull red rug. “I’ll be happy to escort you back to yours. Let’s go.”

“No.” You set both hands on James’ bed, feeling ridiculously petulant. Sirius raises a brow as if to say No? but you ignore him. “This dorm is as much James’ as it is yours, and he invited me here.”

“Pads,” James says, not quite softly, but mildly compared to the fiery tones you and your brother are throwing back and forth, “we’re just talking.”

“And now you’re done talking.” Sirius shrugs, stalking toward you. You grip James’ sheets a bit tighter on instinct. “If I recall, you have a potions’ essay to write, and you’re not—ugh.” He grunts, wresting you away from James’ bed using a hold that’s worked since you were kids. James himself offers no help, other than a sympathetic grimace as you’re hauled off. Sirius fixes him with a cold glare in return. “You’re not getting that done in here.”

“You are so immature,” you gripe as he starts tugging you towards the stairs, your feet barely skimming the ground.

“We can talk about—oi, quit!—we can talk about who’s more mature when you stop pinching me, you prick!”

865 notes · View notes

leclsrc · 1 year

Text

in so deep ✴︎ cl16

genre: friends to lovers, charles has a huge crush and is a lovesick bloke, smut, humor, Fluff

word count: 13.1k

It takes you many cities, a botched Halloween costume and a failed break-in to realize how much Charles likes you. It takes Charles several years to realize he doesn’t need to do much to have you like him back. title from this

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... penetrative sex, praise central, size kink, unprotected sex

auds here… thank u for all ur love during my periods of being awol .... i wrote this over the course of a week and i hope u all like it!!! its very much a self indulgent thing... :P

The first time Charles realized he liked you, you were both posed for a picture.

It happened at a dinner party in London, in late autumn, thrown by you to celebrate your first year on the paddock as a reporter. Few friends had been invited but, with how noisy everyone was and with the ease of conversation, it felt like a houseful of people in your narrow dining area. Lando was in front of the mirror, tipsy, demonstrating his best rendition of an Irish accent to a genuinely interested Alex and Lily.

Max was playing with your pet cat, Gene Kelly, and mentally plotting a heist to sneak him out with Pierre’s help. Your boyfriend, Liam, was making himself a cocktail. And Lewis had been roaming around with a glass of dry wine and his brand new film camera to document the night’s festivities—but the host was nowhere to be found. Unbeknownst to everyone, full off dinner and tipsy off cocktails, you’d ducked into the balcony to find where Charles had run off to for the night.

The music was muffled when you shut the door, leaving it ajar just a little bit. Lissie had played Cocteau Twins and was singing whatever gibberish lyrics played, fully drunk off a bottle of Tito’s. Still laughing over her predicament, you turned to Charles and refocused your attention on him. Is it boring?

What w… what is? He asked, turning to you. Briefly his eyes flitted to your hand, the bracelets clasped onto your wrist. He noticed you held matching bottles of beer but yours remained full, nail tapping idly on the semi-opaque glass.

My party, you responded wryly, cocking your head to the side. A loose tendril of hair fell over your eye and he itched to tuck it back in place, thumb over your ear. You continued, still pressing for an answer. You left to smoke but you didn’t come back.

I like the view. A half-lie but truthful in some way. He squinted to try and make out blurry, faraway signage. I should move here. Monaco makes me sick. He tried to say it jokingly, but was betrayed by the raw tone of his voice. You hummed quietly, to signify you were listening.

So move. Who’s stopping you? You smiled slightly. Aside from your ludicrous career, of course.

You had a natural disposition of—something. He didn’t quite know how to describe it, almost like the rest of him had yet to catch up with something only his heart was already decided on. You spoke and acted with some kind of smoothness that only the most popular kids in secondary school could have reins over, but you always claimed you weren’t very popular in your teenage years. He just knew he liked hearing you talk, watching you smile. He felt something—but he didn’t want to name it even if he knew exactly what it was. Instead he played into your joke. Yeah, I’ve been told I should move to Dubai instead, become a prince.

You laughed aloud. You are terribly unfunny, you know that?

Am I? He asked. Just then, as the cotton of his tee brushed against your bare shoulder, Liam brashly tugged the balcony door open to find you. He had this drunk smile on his face, brushing his blond hair out of the way and raising a Leica to the two of you.

Hey, I got Lewis’ camera. Smile, Liam had said, eyes squinted behind it. You remained still, half-turned to the camera, and Charles gave a smile whereas you remained in a neutral, half-smiling pose. And right there, at that very moment, as a giggle escaped your lips from having to pose so quickly and even awkwardly, Charles realized with a damning force that he had a massive crush on you.

Liam had left shortly after to resume taking pictures, but would later confront you over your “weird, odd, fucking closeness with the Monegasque bloke” that you would vehemently deny despite a gut-churning feeling boiling low in your stomach. But that’s later. Your conversation continued calmly, along the passive whir of London and the streets below. You both people-watched as you thought of things to say—finally Charles said, Are you interviewing me next weekend?

I always try to get out of it when it’s with you. You rolled your eyes, feigning irritance, then smiled to break the illusion. I think so.

I’ll make sure I have good answers. You’re too smart. Hurts to be in the same room.

Like you aren’t, you said back, but the rebuttal is shy in nature, like he struck you with a compliment so high you couldn’t bear to return it. He felt then like this was the kind of moment where you would start holding hands any minute, timid touches between clinks of bottles. He remembered Liam existed and screwed his eyes shut. He wished so hard to be able to kiss you. Abandon all sense and just kiss you.

—

“It’s 2023 and still London has the most rubbish ass, fucking cunt, stupid wanker stoplights,” Lissie huffs beside you, checking her watch. “Right then. We’re going to be late. You know how Lando is when people are late. Especially because this is his event.”

“We’re not people to Lando,” you reason, tapping the steering wheel. The ETA on your navigation app tells you you’re still twenty minutes away. “We’re his best friends. If he can’t forgive us, we should kick him out of the group chat.”

“Ooh, and add Alex,” Lily pipes up from the backseat, where she’s redoing her eyeshadow to pass the time. “I keep telling you guys he’s funnier than Lando.” Both you and Lissie make faint, vague sounds of dissent and she grunts again, deflating.

“No boyfriends in the group chat,” Lissie repeats an age-old rule that’s been around for as long as you three (four, including Lando) have been friends. “Or girlfriends, in Lando’s case, but we haven’t worried about that much, have we?”

You’re all en route to watch Lando crank out a brand-new deejay set, one he’s spent the summer break working on. It’s all house and inspired by beach music, and he’s very proud of it, so of course you’re all showing up to laud him. You’re not the only ones, though, apparently—whoever’s in the city is showing up to show their support, which includes a whole stretch of drivers.

“Oh, my God!” Lily says all of a sudden, eyes wide at something on her phone; you both gesture for her to show you and she does with speed. “Do you guys remember this? God, Instagram archives are a godsend.”

“Your dinner party in Chelsea!” Lissie coos, immediately sidling into a fond awwww! You tap at the story Lily had then posted: a video of everybody eating. You tap again to view the one she posted a few days later, which was a collage of Lewis’ camera scans he’d gotten developed overnight. There in the upper right corner, you almost immediately spot your photo with Charles.

“Oh, Christ, that picture.” Memories of your subsequent arguments with Liam flash past your head. Playfully, all you say is, “And I never had a boyfriend again.”

“Liam was an Irish arse, anyway.” Lissie scoffs. “Nobody liked him. Lewis joked about cleaning his camera after he used it that night. Plus, you actively avoid dating, so don’t complain.”

“Fair,” you say with a slight smile. Your mind lingers on the picture, the imprint of it burned fresh into your mind.

“You—it’s also because you can’t take a hint, babe.” Lily says matter-of-factly. “Who knows how many guys have, you know… fancied, or, like, had crushes on you, and you just never knew?”

“Are you saying somebody fancies me?” You ask, voice whittling out playfully as your eyes count down the seconds to the green light.

Funnily, silence is all that answers. Beside you, Lily and Lissie exchange a look—one that communicates their years-long amusement over your cluelessness. You whirl back to them, eyebrows raised, and double down: “Wait. Does somebody fancy me?”

“No!” Lily ekes out; you don’t miss Lissie’s poorly-hidden laugh. “No. I’m just—it’s just—no.”

Truth is, it truly seems like the only person in the entire paddock (team and Sky Sports staff included) who hasn’t caught on to a certain somebody’s boyish crush is the crush herself, oblivious as ever, even years and years later. One might think you’d have realized eventually, but perhaps owed to your type A personality and immersion with work, and Charles’ pathetic and total inability to express how much he likes you, the crush has always remained just that, despite your two friend groups’ best efforts to hint at it.

It wasn’t to say, though, that you didn’t sometimes entertain the idea of liking him, too. On that one rainy race weekend when he’d brought you a plastic cup of soup, and embarrassed, laughed sheepishly at Lissie’s joking request for one; then returned twenty minutes later with soup for everyone in the media pen. Or that time in Monaco where he’d pretended to be your boyfriend at a bar to ward off a creepo from hitting on you any further. Or another time, in Budapest, when he’d drank half his body weight in jello shots and slurred out a goofy, heavy I’m soooo sorry, baby while you helped him into the passenger seat of his car.

That one, singular time in Cancun you told your friends once and never again.

But those are isolated incidents, you suppose; plus, dating someone you work with has never seemed like a remotely good idea to you, and you don’t think it ever will.

For all your thinking on the topic, you fail to realize that you don’t know much at all—you don’t know the fact that Charles has liked you for years, after getting to know just how charming and funny you were as a friend. You don’t know that he still gets gut-churning butterflies when he sees you, hands shaky and face tinged pink. You miss the fact that he’s not had any long-term partners in the years of his liking you. You don’t know anything.

“Don’t lie.” You narrow your eyes as you rev the car and continue the trip.

“We’re not,” Lily says loudly and a touch too defensively, crossing her fingers. Quietly, she continues, “You should just pay more attention.”

Whatever she meant to say is lost on you as soon as you make a left and spot the club Lando’s at, already teeming with high-profile guests and their high-profile cars. Half an hour later you’re in—valet and being on the guest list effectively cuts your entrance time in half. You separate at the entrance—you, to find Lando; your two girls, to find your reserved table. You find him eventually, busy behind the booth churning out high-frequency tropical music; he pauses for half a beat to flash a huge grin and a thumbs-up before redirecting his attention to the knobs and sliders you can’t seem to guess the functions of.

These kinds of parties are affairs in and of themselves. They mimic the afterparties during the season—nothing if not shows of opulence and networking: champagne paid for by business magnates, yachts that barely make dents in anybody’s wallets, thick CVs, fruity cocktails spilled on pieces of clothing that cost upward of 3000 pounds. You make eye contact with at least seven skeevy businessmen before you spot your friends, but only because you hear them first—by them you mean Lissie, her loud voice raised even more to match the noise at this club.

“I said I didn’t fu—ugh—I don’t want ye fahkin’ champagne,” she slurs out to an old man in a pressed suit, eyebrows knitted angrily. “Got it?!” Behind her, Lily and Alex (who’s arrived now, apparently) watch, concerned and helpless to stop her but equally (perhaps more) entertained.

You step closer and make a move to calm down the exchange taking place, but somebody whispers a “hey” in your ear and startles you. You turn, and come face to face with Charles. His black tee accentuates the breadth of his shoulders, which you connect to his crossed arms; there’s a shy, boyish grin playing on his face. “Oh, Charles!” You smile. “Hey! Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Thanks,” he says with a grin, straining to raise his voice. “You look—you look well. Are you alone?”

“No, I’m—” You turn to your three friends nearby, and to Lissie’s argument heating up. “I actually have to go.” You raise your thumb, jabbing it toward them. “But hi again… again!” You both laugh, but he laughs much louder. “I’ll see you around.”

“I jus—” He says, and you stick around for a second to hear him say what he has to say.

“Yeah?”

He clears his throat and laughs stiffly, abandoning his previous statement in favor of a new one. “I just…. want… to have a great time.”

“Ohhhh,” you holler, nodding, clearly trying to mask your extreme confusion under a polite smile. “Okay, well… go ahead!”

You smooth down your dress and laugh again, evidently more forced but, unfortunately for Charles, not any less pretty.

You carry yourself in a very pretty, graceful way, loud and quiet at the same time, like your confident voice when you’re holding the mic and asking questions or making drivers laugh. He might sound creepy, though, a touch too observant, if he tells you so. He observes you instead, for a second, the low cut of your dress and the way the red overhead light shines on your exposed collarbones—and then you’re leaving. He watches you walk over to hug Lily, realizes how stupid he’s sounded, and smothers a hand over his face, humiliated.

—

“I just want to have a great time?” Max’s jaw drops and he shakes his head, disappointed above all else. “Charles, what the actual. Like…. fuck?” They’re all camped out at the latter’s hotel room, around the dining table, in varying states of sober and doing different things to wear off the last hour of the night before they’re all due to train or debrief again in the morning. Charles had relayed the disaster of the night to everyone at some point, but Max is the last to hear of it; this, unfortunately, does not inoculate him from the shock and secondhand embarrassment.

“Pierre told me to—” Charles starts, forlorn.

“Oi, no. I told you to say something like I just wish… I’d seen you sooner,” interjects the Frenchman with a tut. “You know, flirting? Not… whatever the fuck you said.”

“I didn’t—I was—I lost my mind,” he groans, burying his head in his hands. It couldn’t possibly be entirely his fault when you looked so pretty tonight, hair down and a wash of glitter on your eyelids. Just subtle little flecks of them. They brought out your eyes, too. And your blush, the pink flush of it that sat high on your cheekbones.

“…llo? Charles.” He blinks and sees Carlos’ deep eyes, wide and staring right at him, so pointedly he’s genuinely startled.

“Jeeesus fucking Christ. What?” He places a melodramatic hand over his chest. “Yeah?”

“What do you mean with the”—Carlos mimics his confused expression—“I asked you a question, tonto.”

“Don’t bother with him,” chimes in Pierre, half-distracted by his phone. He looks up with a devious smile and continues. “He’s still thinking of Miss Reporter of the Year.” A round of loud, jovial laughter makes its way across the table, a few teasing quips being chimed in here and there.

“I just,” mocks Pierre from across the table, adopting a sing-songy tone as he bumps his shoulder to Carlos’ with a mocking laugh. “Wanna have a great time.” His voice is much higher and more mocking, which is enough to send Charles into a fit of petulant embarrassment.

“This isn’t sixth year,” he grits out quietly, but the blush on his face could just as well be plastered on the cheeks of a twelve-year-old. “Give it a rest.”

“Mate.” Pierre’s voice mellows into something more austere. “You do know she’s leaving the reporters’ job at the end of the season? She’s going to London full-time. No more seeing her all year round. You know this. And I keep telling you. If you are really, and I mean really, interested, I say go for it. C’est la fucking vie, yeah?”

“Plus, if she says no, you can go for pretty much anyone else, anyway,” concludes Max with a convinced smile.

“It’s not the same,” he admits helplessly, smothering his hands over his face in bleak frustration. Behind his eyelids he sees you still, beautiful and smiling and funny—he seriously needs to institutionalise himself before he goes even more mad with the years-long malady he’s called a crush. And seriously, for a twenty-something to have something he calls a crush is despicable in itself. He feels juvenile.

“I can’t tell her. She’s always told people that dating coworkers is a bad idea.”

“You’re not coworkers.”

“We’re—well, we still work closely together. It is the same.” He groans. “It’s just… I’ve said it before. If I admit I like her, things will become awkward. I’d rather we remain friends.”

“Well… see, nobody said you needed to tell her,” begins Pierre schemingly, eyebrows raising. Around them, everybody groans at the birth of another Pierre-brained scheme that will, no doubt, need the enlistment of everyone’s help and will likely end in disaster. “What?! I’m just offering… I’m just saying, mate—you’ve liked her since forever. Why not make a move?”

“—I can’t—”

“Without telling her?”

“Pierre,” groans Carlos, ever the voice of reason, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t—whatever this is you’re planning, it’s going to go to shit. I swear.”

“You are acting like I plan to take somebody hostage.” Pierre shrugs. “You know, girls like when you don’t tell them straight up. You have to show you like them. You know, be interested in the things they’re interested in, compliment them, make them laugh. And then they think, oh, how thoughtful, oh, how adorable, and before you know it, they like you. And you’ve got yourself a girlfriend.”

“Mmm. Uh-uh. Untrue.” Max says decisively, shaking his head. “I told Kelly I liked her.”

“Yeah, sí. I told Isa I liked her, too.”

“Will you two—just—” Pierre gesticulates and makes a funny noise that insinuates just go with it. “Okay?” he points out to the latter, rolling his eyes. He turns back to Charles with a ready, dazzling, so-French-it’s-scary grin and continues. “I suggest you let us be your wingmen and help you charm her.”

“Whoa, whoa, wh—us? You’re on your own here,” Max quips with a laugh. “It’s your stupid idea.”

“It’s not stupid, and it’s going to work. She probably likes you already.” His confidence carries the lie with gusto. “We just need—you just need to show her instead of saying the dumbest shit to her face.” Pierre leans back into his chair and shrugs matter-of-factly. “Max and I will be regular wingmen, but we have a secret weapon.”

“Don’t—” Carlos starts with a sigh.

“Yes. Lando, Lily, and Lissie are all close to her, eh? Well, perfect—Carlos will get information from Lando about things she likes, you gift her those things or talk to her about them, bam she’s in love. It’s literally a perfect plan.”

Maybe it’s worth it. Maybe—

“No.” Charles shakes his head firmly, setting the record straight. “This will not work. Who’s to say she even needs a boyfriend?”

—

Despite what his best and closest friends—on and off the paddock—might have you believe, Charles hasn’t always been so hopeless when it came to trying to catch your heart. His closest call came in Cancun, after a long weekend of racing and a flight to the area, early into the night where he thought he was the only one who decided to opt out of partying.

Your skin’s peeling. You turned from where you sat on a barstool observing the shore, startled, immediately relaxing when you found him standing there eyeing you. Your hair was still damp, crunchy with saltwater, and your skin had tanned considerably, a sunburn sitting on the bridge of your nose. You stuck your tongue out.

I spent the whole day swimming. He observed your bikini, yellow and green contrasting the colour of your skin. He blinked slowly, ordering himself a drink to hopefully pass the thoughts away. His eyes couldn’t stop, though, wandering, the translucent material of the scarf you’d tied loosely around your hips, the tinge of heat on your shoulders and nose. I’m burnt everywhere.

There are remedies for that. He smiled around his glass.

I’m aware, you said lightly, crossing your legs and sliding your finger along the salt rim of yours. But just in case I forgot, maybe you could refresh my memory.

Your voice was so sweet, so low, so tempting. Already he knew he was wrapped around your finger, the same finger picking up grains of salt to press on your tongue peeking between your smiling lips. You brought your glass to your lips. It had been some time since the dinner in London so he pressed, his voice deep and a little rough, Liam can do that for you, I’m sure.

Pity, you said meekly as you set your glass down and looked back at him. He’s not my boyfriend anymore.

Out of eyeline, the bartender’s eyes widened at the exchange he was overhearing.

Is it a pity? He asked, leaning backwards and cocking his head to the side. It’s easy, an easy glide of conversation, flirt, something he’s wanted for a while now. To have you playing into him, and have himself playing into you, just like this. It was naturally easy in a foreign city where nobody knew who either of you were, where you were just two strangers flirting at a beachside bar.

Two strangers laughing while they dug their toes into the sand. Two strangers basking in the water, tinted orange by the sun dipping below the horizon, scarf untied in favor of one last swim before night fell. There was nothing keeping either of you from doing whatever you wanted. Nothing keeping Charles from finally acting on the attraction that honest to God crushed him.

You ended up leaning on the door of your hotel room, keycard fiddled in-between your sandy fingers. You combed a hand through your hair and offered a shy smile. So.

So, he replied, leaning closer. So.

Sooo. You were laughing and your breath smelled like a mint leaf and vodka. You looked up at him, blinking slowly. I have a rule.

What rule is that?

I don’t date coworkers. He wanted to dip down, place a hand on the dip of your waist, and kiss you.

Pity, he said gruffly instead, a smile forming on his face.

Is it a pity? You chewed on your lip and looked at his barely parted ones, pink and pretty. When I’m about to break it? He was about to help you do just that—eyes fluttered shut already—when a crash resounded from down the hall and you both turned to find the culprit. You broke apart and with your separation, whatever atmosphere of tension you’d built up popped, too, leaving you awkwardly standing beside each other.

Oh m… Lissie? You asked, leaning closer as you recognized your friend more and more. You narrowed your eyes, watching the girl crawl her way through the carpeted floor. Oh, Jesus—let’s—get you—

You both hauled her up and wrapped either arm around your shoulders, unlocking her hotel room with great effort and tossing her onto the bed. You stood back and sighed at her half-blacked out state, slightly amused but ultimately relieved she ended her night unscathed.

She pried one eye open and sleepily, she groaned out, what were… you two… doing together outside your room?

Nothing, you said quickly, face warm and eyes wide.

Because you—Lissie raised a lazy finger in your direction—don’t date coworkers.

I wasn’t—it wasn’t—goodnight, you spluttered, eyes refusing to meet Charles’ even as you both exited the room, paying him quiet thanks as he pulled the door back closed.

Sorry, you said, pretty as ever. The light shone on the red splotch on your nose. Goodnight.

And so he went to his room that night, bummed out and still high off your scent.

—

“You’re staring again.”

“I’m not,” he lies through his teeth, averting his eyes away from your figure by the shore. Sue him if he was staring (which he wasn’t… but most definitely was) but he finds you much too pretty. After the disaster that was the Mexican GP, he figures he could use some sort of stress reliever. Apparently he was not alone in thinking this, considering half the paddock hauled ass to Cancun and prompty partied.

Across Charles, Joris and Pierre share a knowing look that doesn’t go unnoticed.

“I said I’m not!”

“So you are not staring at her blue swimsuit then?” Joris tests, mouth twisted into a devious smirk. “It’s black,” Charles says matter-of-factly before catching sight of his friends’ smug expressions and realizing he’s implicated himself. He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, petulantly almost. “And I wasn’t. Can you fucking—fuck off?”

“Just ask her out already,” Pierre groans, nodding when Joris chimes in with agreement of his own. “I seriously can-not handle another bar of this shit. It’s been years.”

“I don’t know how to,” he laments. “It’s going to be awkward if I do it all formal, and she’s going—she’ll laugh at me, and it’s…” He blows a raspberry. “Non. Pointless.”

“Just kiss her at the party,” reasons Joris with an easy attitude, shrugging.

“Joris! Charles didn’t know about that,” Pierre says, trying to lower his volume, but it’s pointless since they’re barely a metre apart. “Fucking tattletale.”

“Party?!” Charles repeats, eyes wide. “Why don’t I know about a party?!”

“It’s a Halloween party,” Joris says, a wacky grin on his face. “And you said it yourself, didn’t ‘cha? You told us not to tell you if any functions were happening because you’re too tired to go to any. Too… too wrapped up racing.” He laughs. “Or something of the sort.”

“Well the season’s ending,” he huffs, wringing firm fingers over his face, his shut eyes, “and I still fucking haven’t… so I think I’m afforded a party.”

“Alright, then come to the party! Dress code, Halloween. Sexy Halloween.” Pierre wiggles his eyebrows. “You know, speaking of our plan, Carlos overheard Lissie and Lily talking about what your girl’s costume is going to be.” He leans in closer and laces his fingers together. “She’s going as a… Christina.”

“Christina?” The other two echo, confused.

“Christina. I did some digging, and I think it’s this.” Pierre scrolls and dicks around on his phone for a minute before turning it back around to Joris and Charles, who peek with great interest. They seem to be looking at an outdated movie poster of—

“Cas-per the friendly ghost,” Charles reads aloud, trying to get his accent to dissipate. “Huh. What the fuck is that?”

“It’s a movie, idiot.” Pierre shuts his phone off. “Starring who? Christina Ricci.”

“Vraiment? You think his crush is going to show up wearing… a white gown?” Joris asks, his mind stuck on the outfit he’d seen just seconds ago. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“Well Carlos and I agreed, so. Two to two. And Carlos says she and her friends always wear silly costumes like these. So if she shows up as Christina, what better way to start conversation than to dress up as Casper?”

Charles’ eyes widen with comical horror. “No. No, no, no. Did the ghost and the kid fuck?”

“No!” The two men across him yell in unison.

“Right!” He gesticulates. “So it’s not a couples’ costume!”

“But it’s still—” Pierre pauses. “It still matches. Trust me on this one, mate.” He smiles. “We even brought the supplies.”

��

The party is a hit as soon as Charles and his group enter. The former finds refuge at the table, unwilling to socialize. Pierre roams for a bit and ends up finding you almost immediately—you’re wearing low-waisted pants, a strappy top, and you sport alternating streaks of blond and black in your hair.

“Hey!” He calls, jogging up to you. “I heard you were coming as a Christina. Guess who I am?”

You rake a hand through the streaks in your hair and smile. “Not just any Christina. The artist. Xtina? You know?” You twirl a bit, the dark material of your strappy pants swishing as you go, as if the movement will help Pierre deduce the costume’s identity. “Whatever. You’ll get it. Lando is—we’re matching tonight, but I g—it wouldn’t make any more sense if you don’t understand it.” You sigh a bit and gesture vaguely to the crowd behind you, referring to the Eminem-dressed Lando, who you guess is currently caught in the thick of.

“Xtina?” Iks-tina, he repeats, clearly confused. “I remember hearing… somebody saying you were going as a… a Christina.”

“Chris-tina, Xtina, yeah. Christina Aguilera.” You smile, fingers pinching at the material of your belt. “Anyway—where is everyone? I’ve only seen Daniel’s costume and then yours.” The recent memory of Danny’s neon orange traffic cone costume bumping into everybody flashes in your mind.

“Save yourself,” he huffs, smoothing calloused hands over the denim of his jeans. “Zhou and Esteban came as Bella and Jacob, Max as a Tifosi. Anyway”—he points to his ensemble—“guess yet?”

Your mental images of each cited costume are cut short. “Aha! You’re, um. Yes! You’re Ken from the Barbie movie,” you crack finally, remembering the revealing denim vest and jeans combo from the film you’d watched four times over in theaters a few months ago. “Wow, even your briefs say Ken. Very accurate. Minus the non-bleached hair.”

He tuts and shrugs. “I’m no Alex. What’d he come as?”

“He and Lily matched—Sonny and Cher.”

“Let me guess,” Pierre starts, and already you’re nodding because you can tell he’s going to predict exactly how the night has turned out, “Alex is Cher?”

“Wig and sequined dress and all.” You nod, laughing and squinting; Alex’s tall figure, head clad in a long, fringey, black wig, stands out above the rest. “Oh, I did see Carlos at the bar. Ricky Martin?”

Pierre really laughs at that, a loud, distinctly French guffaw involuntarily forced past his lip glossed mouth. “What the fuck, mate! Ricky Martin?! He’s El Profesor from La Casa de Papel. You know, Money Heist? Bella ciao? Oh, my God, he’s going to fucking freak if he hears—heard you said that.”

“He seriously gave off Ricky Martin vibes,” you defend in-between laughs of your own. “So that’s everyone? Oh—oh. Charles! What did… I never saw him! He kept telling me how excited he was for his costume, too…” Just a few hours ago, at that—a boisterous voice honing into the your voicemail inbox, boasting about a costume while you prepped for the party with Lissie and Lily. Your eyes peruse the room, but the lighting is too dark and vague for you to make out anything you haven’t already seen.

“Oh. Charles?” Pierre’s voice lilts higher. “Um. Yeaaah. Um.”

You, however, are sufficiently distracted by your own search for him, and you fail to notice Pierre’s clear scrambling attempt to stall you. He takes a long swig of beer and clears his throat. “He’s just, well, around. I should actually—excuse me, I need to actually go look for him. I owe him a drink.”

“Oh? Oh, okay. Well—be careful?”

You’re a bit surprised by his sudden, jolted departure, but bid him a rushed goodbye anyway. He waves back vaguely, his eyebrows furrowed into an expression of worry as he shoves his way back into the crowd and toward the area littered with tables. It’s only then that Lissie surfaces from the crowd, scratching absently at her nose as she crashes into you with a floaty giggle.

“Lis, you’re all sticky.” You place two palms flat against her shoulders and push her off. “Are you high?”

“Yes but not drunk.” She giggles again, eyes fluttering.

“Oh—that’s not. Whatever, I guess.” You exhale and cross your arms over your chest. “Who’ve you been with?” She listens, plays with the braid in her hair, matching her getup as Lara Croft.

“Um, the deejay. I gave him my number, but he’s actually pretty fucking weird. Come on, I want to pee.” As always, her speech quickens to something inhuman, an effect elicited by alcohol; giving you essentially zero time to react, she loops a hand around yours and drags you with ferocity to the nearest restroom. She moves so aggressively through the thickly-packed crowd you barely have time to react or say hi to people you’re acquainted with en route.

You whiz by the door, and in the rush, you notice Pierre entering the one adjacent with a worried expression etched onto his face. Just minutes ago you’d been conversing—you wonder why he’s suddenly become privy to worries.

“So the deejay,” says Lissie, effectively distracting you for the time being. You hum to signify you’re listening, fixing bits of your outfit in the mirror as she kicks different stalls open to judge their cleanliness. “One, he was dressed up as James Bond. Which is just about the most fucking pretentious thing ever. Two, all he played was Chainsmokers. You’re telling me this pub—club—whatever—in Mexico could only afford to commission this guy? Three, he was”—she kicks the last door open and a gasp escapes her and morphs into a semi-shriek—“a ghost?!”

“Ghosted you? Already?” Your eyes, focused previously on re-lining your lips, flits to Lissie’s in the reflection. She’s distracted, staring at the contents of a stall with comically wide eyes. “What’s up? S’that a fucking glory hole or something?”

“No!” She yells when you approach, immediately lunging forward to pull it shut. “No. It’s—I saw a roach. Serves us for going to a fucking… pub. Don’t go in there, it’s…” She exhales a long breath. “It was a mama roach and… with eggs.”

“What are you talking about?” This isn’t even a pub, it’s a nightclub—one with a door fee that definitely did not warrant rogue cockroaches in the water closet. “Lis, you’re drunk-hallucinating.” You’re not even sure if that’s a thing, but you shove past her and push the stall door open again, ready to come face-to-face with, maybe, a sleeping Tinkerbell or a puking black cat. Worst case scenario, shit on the floor; worst-er case scenario, Lissie is right and you’ve stepped into a den of roaches.

Weirdest case scenario, though, if that’s an actual thing: Charles Leclerc seated on the closed toilet seat, face painted white, wearing an all-white ensemble of a large white shirt, shorts, high socks, and sneakers. He’s got two hands on either side of the wall, as if he’d been preparing to escape; how or to where, you’re clueless. Why he’s here, you’re even more stumped.

His entire face is a stark white, with black smudges of face paint on his forehead (eyebrows, you’re guessing); his hair’s been curled by the humid air at this club, and he looks like himself in all the ways he totally does not, eyes big and caught when yours click onto them.

Despite confusion, you chalk it up, as one would rationally do at a party, to intoxication. You spend a few bated breaths staring at him staring at you, his face of pure shock and embarrassment enough to sober up a drunk for a few days. “Hi.” You can hear yourself say it, but you’re so caught off-guard and full of confusion it feels alien.

“Hey,” he says, wiping four fingers over his stubborn face paint with a smile. The smile and the paint barely fade. “I’m a ghost.”

“I see. Classic.” You pause. “I’m Chr… nevermind. Um—are you okay?”

“A bit, uh—a tad bit drunk. I seem to be in the ladies’ room.”

“Yeah, you seem to be,” you recite back to him, amusement quickly overtaking confusion. “I think Pierre was looking for you. Let me go get him. Lis, make sure he doesn’t…” You gesture a puking movement, and the pair watch and listen to your shoes click against the tile, before the door swings open and then shut again.

“Coast is clear.” Lissie’s voice has been lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “I reckon everyone you know is already looking for you?”

“This is a disaster.” He rubs frantically at the face paint, but it’s horribly futile. “You know, I didn’t even realize I was in the ladies’ room until you two came in. She cannot see me like this.”

“She already fucking has, mate.” Lissie sounds exasperated. “Whose idea was this? If you say Pierre I swe—”

“—Pierre—”

“—ar to Jesus fucking Christ, Charles—I can’t keep saving you from Pierre’s antics.” She grumbles out a sigh. “What are you supposed to be, even? Have you—did you see how hot she looks? This is like… you look like a… I can’t—” She lets herself taper off, so disbelievingly shocked at his odd costume.

“I’m Casper the Ghost!” Lissie mentally forms a crude picture of the kid ghost, which looks absolutely nothing like what’s in front of her. “Casper was opposite Christina Ricci. Pierre told me so.”

“That’s the dumbest analogy ever, holy Christ. You look like a poster child for some…” She regards him for a moment. “Anemia advert.”

“Take that back.”

“You don’t really have the upper hand here, Charles,” says Lissie with a grimace. “I’m texting Pierre. Are you—did you even get drunk?”

“No,” he woes. “I am totally sober. I had to lie. Pierre went to the table and told me that my—that the costume we planned—it was wrong, and I just—I ran to the bathroom.” Lissie can’t help but laugh at the story, raising her camera to record the incriminating evidence.

Mid-video, Charles’ white face droops and his painted lips part to ask: “You think she found me cute?”

—

Charles likes finding things about you. He supposes the first time he realized just how much he liked hearing you talk about yourself—which you rarely did—happened in São Paulo. He’d been stressing over a spiel to recite in front of a camera, rewriting over words for hours to make everything sound more natural.

Each margin had been hastily written on with pencil, run-on sentences with semicolons in the place of periods. The team scriptwriter didn’t do much to make his lines sound more natural and less like they’d just been spat out of an online translator. You peeked into the media pen and coughed. You don’t belong here, do you?

Tch, he clicked his tongue, turning to offer a smile. I’m working on a script for Sunday. Portugese stuff.

I can help, you responded, walking slowly over toward him. You smiled quietly, approaching slowly like you were waiting for him to greenlight your offer. He did so by pulling a chair out for you, and once you sat you traced a nail over each line, murmuring them under your breath.

You speak Portugese?

You looked up and gave a half-shrug, laughing like you were amused with yourself. Kind of. It’s not very good, but it’s enough. You resumed your editing and he felt content to stare, admire, watch every movement of your lips align with the syllables of the words. You asked for a pencil and began writing something much cleaner. He couldn’t help but let himself be in awe of your intelligence.

You read over the last few lines and turned to face him. Let me guess, you said. You want to make a pun on Ferrari before you say bye.

Ah, he laughs. Yeah.

See, I know you so well, you half-joked, scrawling idle edits on the margins of his script.

He was already looking at you when you turned back to him, seeking his response, agreement, anything. When your eyes met, something caught at your chest—it tugged, tugged, then tugged again, a dull feeling burrowed deep in you. Words failed to wrench themselves free, but once they did, all you could manage was a faint—What?

Nothing. He smiled and shook his head, like he was waiting for you to figure it out. You know… sometimes, I wish I met you sooner. He does. He wishes he knew you back then, when you first learned Portugese. Or when you were in high school, so you could see just how exponentially awkward he was in his own teenage years. He thinks sometimes that he’s lost too much time, met and liked you too late.

Hm, you breathed out, because you didn't know what else to. I know why—so you could always have me. As a proofreader. Right?

Hah. The tilt of his laugh was high and mocking, and he stuck his tongue out, as if to punctuate that. He looked away then, like he wasn’t ready to say certain things to your face just yet. Quietly he added, Always have you… something like that.

—

If you ask Charles what he’s doing hiding in a laundry basket of a luxury hotel in São Paulo, he wouldn’t be able to answer you, either. It’s been some time since the disaster that was Caspergate Cancun 2023, and if he’s perfectly honest, he doesn’t feel like facing you again for the rest of his life. Pierre, of course, has other plans.

All he knows is last night, Pierre suggested he leave a huge vase of roses for you to arrive to in the living room of your hotel; as he planted it in said room, the door’s lock turned, and he sought a hiding place in the adjacent bedroom. Judging by the prevalent scent of Dior Sauvage, this is Lando Norris’ room.

Did u get to escape??? Pierre’s text irritates him. At the same time, the light flips on; Charles curls in on himself, remaining perfectly still. Lando’s voice trills through the room. “I didn’t leave those roses for either of you,” he’s saying to you and Lissie.

Charles hears you hum. “They’re so beautiful.” His heart swells. “I gotta run for a sec, pick up something from Will’s room.” A few seconds pass and the door opens and shuts, which means Charles is currently alone with Lando and Lissie. Which means he needs to plot his escape as soon as he can. Otherwise he’ll be caught in the crossfire and much too embarrassed to—

A foot meets his concealed body and he lets out an oof! as he’s sent flying out of the hamper, along with strewn-around clothes. He keeps his eyes screwed shut, scared shitless and in a fetal position; he only unfurls when a socked foot kicks at his ass. Above him are Lando and Lissie, both extremely confused.

“How did you know I was…?!” He asks, aghast.

“My fucking laundry was breathing, mate, s’not that hard to leave alone,” Lando retorts sharply. “What are you doing?!”

“I left roses for her,” he explains fruitlessly, gesturing to the vase outside. “But you came in, and this was the closest hiding place. I was told this would be a great gesture.”

“Right. Where did you even get that advice?” Lando tries to suppress the critical tone in his voice, but judging by Charles’ embarrassed grimace, he’s failed. Beside him, Lissie makes a hm? noise, goading Charles to answer quicker.

“I got it from.” Charles pauses. “A friend,” he ekes out vaguely.

“No shit. Who?”

“Um—” Charles’ eyes are shut. “Pierre.”

In unison, Lissie and Lando both release incredulous gasps, throwing their hands up in the air. Lissie points at the mess of clothes in the corner of the room to emphasize her point and asks loudly, with comical cynicism: “This seemed like proper romantic advice to you?”

“Scratch that. Pierre’s words seemed like proper romantic advice to you? His girlfriend is—!” Lando places a flat palm a few inches off the floor and shakes it a few times to insinuate Kika’s age, his disbelieving expression growing funnier by the second. “Mate!” His voice cracks mid-syllable, though even this mishap seems to be the least crazy thing about tonight.

Charles, burning with humiliation, releases a shaky sigh. “I know! I know!”

“You don’t know!” They shout simultaneously in response, disappointed if anything. Just then the door opens again and your two best friends hurry to throw assorted pieces of laundry on the lying Charles, exiting to make sure you don’t suspect anything.

“Hey,” you say slowly, because they’re both posed the exact same. “Am I… missing something?”

“A shower, girl,” Lando says, and you flip him off before retreating into your room.

Belatedly you ask, “Did you find out who sent those flowers?”

“Some loser, probably,” he calls right back. Charles emerges to poke him accusatorily, but Lando just shrugs. Charles definitely does not have the upper hand here, anyway.

“Just get out,” Lissie says, completely done with Charles’ antics. “And stop. Listening. To Pierre.”

He rinses the odor of laundry off him once he’s at his room, but thinks, despite himself, that you called the flowers beautiful.

—

Are you—

—no. I’m not. You wiped a hand over your face and caught mascara along with it. I’m fine, it’s fine.

What he said, it wasn’t…

I said, you turned to face him, eyes rimmed and mouth trembling. You didn’t finish your sentence, just tore the microphone off your lapel and buried your face in your hands. There was always going to be a first time. Your first time insulted on a live feed, after the Abu Dhabi weekend, was not any less shocking. You felt small. You felt humiliated.

You didn’t want to show Charles any of it. You moved around the green room, picking up shit to throw into your bag. Thank God the season was fucking over, you kept thinking. I feel so, you said, still failing to finish anything you started to say. You’d been called an annoying bitch by a fan of one of the drivers—to your face, as you exited the paddock.

He moved nearer. Charles, you said, a half-sob, and then you were allowing him to crash, allowing him to hug you. Your arms were weak when they wrapped back around him, linking softly in the small of his back. You sobbed hard into his chest until his grey tee was dark with tears. I want out, I just want out.

You’ll lord your career over that prick when you’ve made a million dollars doing this, he said. You do it too well to want out. You’re too smart. You’re too good. You cried harder, your face hurt and every word felt wrestled unintentionally, like it took too much work to say much at all. I’m sorry, you said. You should go.

No, he said. He held you closer. Not until you feel better.

—

He cries after Abu Dhabi. Bad season, everyone’s said. You snap a few smiling pictures with Max, who wins, and Lily and Lissie and the lot of them, the people who made the year so great. You notice an absence in all the pictures and you find it in a room in the Ferrari motorhome.

You’ve found you both find solace in words. In reassurance. But you’ve also found that your connection enables you both to reassure without having to say anything at all. You sit beside him, lean your head on his shaky shoulder, and wait.

“I was waiting for you to come,” he admits brokenly. “I was just not feeling good.”

“I know,” you respond. “It was a bad race. Shit strat.”

He’s quiet. His breaths are ragged and wet and shaky. “Will you stay? Until I feel better?”

You don’t move. “I’ll stay for longer.”

—

In the kitchen Charles unscrews himself a beer. The sky outside is pink and the sun hides behind faraway mountains, gradually darkening the entire atmosphere, save for the few woolly clouds. He’s by the patio door so he can spot people in the wide yard: Pierre, exchanging a Frisbee with Lando. Max, Alex, and Lissie engaged in an intense match of Uno.

They’re all gathered here in Spain at Carlos’ behest to celebrate the dawn of winter, and the end of the season, Max’s third championship.

He’s yet to spot you—he’d been told earlier you’d be late—but it doesn’t matter. He’s been feeling uncharacteristically himself all day anyway. He wrote that on his notebook this morning, on the flight here, verbatim. Looked up the word to spell it right and everything. He remembers you saying it, that time in London where you and Lando took him around and annihilated Borough Market before lounging on the grassy knoll of a nearby park. I feel so uncharacteristically happy, you’d joked. The syllables were too stunted and too fast for Charles to nail it. But he feels it now. Uncharacteristic.

He tells everyone he’s fine, though, and does a good job of it. Three beers in and he’s beginning to trick himself into thinking he actually is doing fine. Nobody suspects he’s been feeling empty from such a bad finish to the season—the season that was already bad in itself. He hasn’t been feeling his usual drive, his usual appetite. He doesn’t know when it will return.

“Here you are.” Carlos has this goofy smile on his face when he bounds into the kitchen, depositing empty dishes at the sink. “Listen, I have to tell you something.”

Charles and Carlos have always shared an easy dynamic—they’ve both always wanted the same thing. Racing has always been at the forefront of their minds. It makes conversation passionate, easy, fun; it was what helped build their now-natural rapport in the first place. “Yeah?” He prods, leaning against the counter and tipping fizz into his mouth.

“I invited everyone here to announce… something important.” Carlos crosses his arms. “But I wanted you to be the first to know.”

“Me?” Charles knits his eyebrows and smiles. “Wow.” He gulps, cocks his head. “What is it, then? Are you switching teams?”

Carlos’ goofy smile grows. “Isa and I are engaged. I’m retiring next year.”

“You—you’re—” Charles laughs and shuts his eyes all at once. “Oh, my God, mate! Congratulations!” The overload of information isn’t lost on him, but he channels it all into a hug. “Are you really retiring, though? I mean. Wow, this is amazing news—but—”

“I was sure as soon as I asked,” Carlos says squarely, smiling as if he’s conjured an image of Isa’s smiling face (which is likely the case). “As soon as she said yes. As soon as I bought the ring!” He laughs aloud, so overwhelmed with happiness of recalling everything. “I’m so glad you were the first person I told.”

“Besides Lando,” Charles says, because he knows it’s true.

“Besides Lando.” Carlos smiles. “I’m… dios, I’m happy. I always knew I’d have something to look forward to after racing.” They hug again, and then he clambers past Charles and into the patio, where he resumes the façade of being unengaged and still a driver. Left behind, Charles thinks over it himself. What does he have to look forward to after racing? All his life, racing is all that ever existed to him.

The announcement comes eventually—when it’s dark out, intermittent stars white and twinkly against the black above. Charles has once again turned into a blushy mess because you arrived a few hours prior, wearing a lovely dress and with your hair down in messy waves and you said hi to him earlier without him approaching first. They present a stupid, but very Carlos-and-Isa ring-shaped cake to announce it, and somebody queues up music and everyone’s cheering. Of course everyone’s cheering—it’d be impossible for this announcement to not come with bouts of yelling and cheering and goodbyes to Carlos, who accepts them with glee and—dare he say—excitement.

Charles remembers their first year as teammates, the jokes they’d made about needing to beat the other out. For both of them, he recalls, it’s only ever been the drive to race. He didn’t think Carlos would even entertain the idea of retiring yet. He wonders when he will. The thought of it alone is enough to send a well of anxiety run deep into him—which happens after he congratulates the couple, so he excuses himself to the empty outdoors area to get fresh air back into him.

He didn’t mean it, but he finds you already there. “Hi,” you say when he slides the door shut. “You okay?”

“Just… yeah, I’m fine.” You smell faintly like smoke. “It’s crazy, huh. Everyone’s… moving on.”

“So Carlos told everyone, then,” you say, pursing your lips and waiting for his response. He closes his eyes and lets a soft exhale escape him, warm air out and fresh air in, a welcome change from the heady atmosphere in the party. “I knew. I bought that God awful cake. I kept saying get a normal one but they both wanted it to be shaped like a ring.” You punctuate your sentence with a crisp laugh, a stunted exhale of air to break the tension.

You have a natural sway over words, graceful and beautiful and commanding, something he only wishes he could be. For so long he’d been told the feedback loop of one and the same thing: you’re good. You’re the best. You’re going to be the next big thing. And this season had just… aggravated every single insecurity he’s picked up in his years of racing. He wishes sometimes he’d been told something else: you suck. You’re normal. You’re irrelevant. Then at least he wouldn’t exist in some odd panopticon of feeling on top of the world and yet looking at it from the bottom of a pitch black abyss.

“Yeah,” he says instead, wringing his hands. He mimics the wrist movements he’s made to do during gym hours. “It’s wild how—I mean, not really wild, but. I just can’t… even picture my life after racing.”

“You’re young, that’s warranted,” you laugh. “You’re also… I mean, even if you drop out of racing tonight, it’s not like you’re going to become dirt poor or anything. You could become a bloody orthodontist and people will still love you.”

“Will they?”

He didn’t mean to say it aloud but out it comes, garbled and rushed and he’s a bit embarrassed for sounding like a child in front of somebody he finds so beautiful. The silence is suspended and dry, and for a minute all he hears and feels is the slow rise and fall of his chest. To somehow mend the vulnerability, he tries again. “It’s not—I just think I’ll be lonely if I decide to stop racing.”

The fact that Carlos can say with so much ease that he’s willing to drop his career to ensure his pending marriage lasts is almost terrifying, because Charles knows he wants that. He knows—he’s always known—that he wants that intimacy, that realness, but for it to come at the cost of something he’s known for so long is so scary it’s almost a dealbreaker.

“Lonely?” You echo, voice tinged with concern. “Charles—”

“Lonely.”

He says it with an edge to his voice, so final, so steadfast. Loneliness is what he’s always feared and he knows, with a deep drawling punch to his gut, that loneliness is what will come if he decides to stop racing. Even if he’s tired. Even if he’s so pent up with frustration and loss and anger. Racing is all he’s ever known, it’s all he is—when he’s not tied to it, who is he? “Like no one… like I’m just standing in front of what I’m supposed to be, and when people see me, that’s all they see—what’s behind me. Right through me.”

“Well, you’re off racing right now,” you respond, trodding carefully. “So, well. Do you feel that way?”

He knows what you mean: it’s winter break, so he’s not driving or doing some form of it every single day. And he knows in turn what to answer: no, not really, he doesn’t really feel detached from it because there’s a low anticipation in his belly that tells him he’ll be doing it all again soon. But he chooses to interpret it differently; differently, but not falsely.

“I th… I don’t feel lonely,” he says, “when I talk to you. You see me.”

Your stomach drops and your heart begins to pulse a mile a minute, knuckles tightening where they’ve gripped onto the wooden post of the patio. You can feel the air in your lungs pass through every divot of your body as it escapes and arrives in long, shaky breaths. He’s looking at you, his eyebrows knitted like he wants—needs an answer, if you’d be kind enough to please give him one.

“I…” You bite your lip, every thought in your head at odds with the other.

Time feels like rubber, like it’s been stretched and manipulated and Carlos is ducking out to announce that it’s time to blow out candles on the stupid ring-shaped cake and you’ve taken too long to respond and your body feels too heavy but your heart feels too light and your eyes are blinking, open and shut and open again, and you feel like the wind could honestly blow you away now because Charles has given you a neutral nod and left you alone again, to contemplate the weight of what he’s finally, finally admitted, tonight here under the sky of Spain.

You move a hand over your hair, watch him walk away. The words lodge themselves in your throat, but they’re there.

—

One minute after you realized you liked Charles, you swallowed the feelings until they were barely decipherable.

In happened in Dublin, at a pub on St. Paddy’s Day, when you’d emerged fresh out of a breakup with the most arseholic Irishman you’d ever had the displeasure of meeting. And funnily enough, it happened without Charles’ presence. You’d spent the day at Liam’s, hours of fighting over so many things—the growth of your career and the decimation of his, where your relationship had soured, why you never came to visit him, Charles, the sodding bloke you like so much—until finally, you took your things and left.

Wise, because you might’ve honestly gone insane if you stayed a minute longer, attuning your ears to the deafening feedback loop of his voice. Also decidedly unwise, because you had a piece of luggage and barely any battery, in a full city of people you didn’t know at all.

There was no chance Liam would let you return, and no chance you wanted to, for that matter—the fact still stood, though, that you needed to kill the night before your flight to France left at 6AM. You entered the first pub you heard, deposited your bag at the coat check for an extra couple of euros, and accepted the first pint thrust into your hand and first leprechaun hat plopped atop your head.

In between watching people compare how they poured Guinness pints, Sinead O’Connor songs, and exchanging headdresses with a random stranger, you found yourself impressingly drunk. The Irish did it too well.

A university student stumbled past your stool, tears in her eyes; she stopped to steal a shot of whiskey lying unattended on the bar. You looped a hand around her wrist and stared at her menacingly. Manners?!

Fuck manners, she said wetly, wrenching every word out with great effort. Nobody paid either of you any attention. I just caught my best friend and boyfriend kissing. Her accent was unmistakably Irish and was stronger with the tears.

Oh, you said, loosening your threatening grip. Sorry.

Don’t be. I’m sorry I could ever be so stupid, she said, aghast, before finally stalking outside the pub. Half an hour later, you wound up at a table of thirty-somethings, all belting along to a folky sounding song.

Drunkenly you slurred out, I thought it was a stereotype.

What was, love? One of them paused her singing, dipping down to listen to you properly. Your cheek was smushed against the varnished wood, moving with every syllable you eked out.

The songs. You sound like… you belong in the 19th century.

She laughed at that, surfacing and yelling something to the band onstage you couldn’t quite decipher. The song reached its peak, loud and getting the whole crowd singing along, before fading into a familiar opening. S’this better? She asked, her voice slightly raised above the guitar.

You looked up. I liked the other one too, to be fair. M’not a fucking anti-Irish.

Nobody said that, love. Come sing. She hauled you upward, exaggerating her arm swinging in the air so you’d follow suit, which you did. You hummed the opening, eyes fluttering open and closed. You imagined opening them again and finding Charles across the room, already looking, with the same charming, boyish smile on his face that came to you as comfort.

You thought back to the dinner in London, the feeling of his shirt against your shoulder, the way he’d gotten you so easy and laughing and babbly, something you never got with Liam. You squeezed your eyes shut and exhaled raggedly. Fuck.

Linger’ll do that to you, your companion mused. Around you, the entire pub sang along to the song that served as the backdrop to your all-encompassing romantic epiphany. Missing a lover, huh?

No, just… You opened your eyes, watched the band sing out the rest of the prechorus before they slid into the next verse. A new kind of air had crept over the pub, one that exemplified just how much this song could mean to anyone, no matter who. You shut them again and saw Charles. The green of his eyes, mossy on some days and bright on others. The moles on his face. The grooves of his hand, the way it wrapped around things like pens, mics, bottles, your fingers. His voice, how he curved around words. He always knew exactly what you meant even if it took you ages to get to the point, even if you felt like you didn’t know what you meant exactly.

You opened your eyes. Suddenly fights with Liam didn’t matter. Whatever little sympathy you had left evaporated as you listened to the lyrics and realized, with a damning force, that you were thinking of Charles. And this was not weak, this was not vague, this was a strong thing that took you off your feet like a gust of wind, hurtling you out of the pub. You thought of every time your eyes met his, both of you already laughing at something else present. Every time he saw you at the end of a busy work day and asked if you were doing alright.

Just this guy, I suppose. His name’s… yeah. We’ve been friends for ages. He’s really very talented. Very kind. Your voice was drowned out by the music but you didn’t intend for anything to be heard, anyway. And he’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. He always knows what to say. He’s not in Dublin tonight, not even in Ireland, for God’s sake.

He’s your boyfriend, then?

You closed them slowly. No. T’wouldn’t be very smart to date him.

Is he an arse?

No either. It’s just too late.

I’m sorry, love.

Don’t be, you mused, eyes still shut as Linger came to a close. I’m sorry I could ever be so stupid.

—

Charles should be in Monaco. You should be in London. But at four-thirty PM, leaning against the counter of a tiny café in Dublin, you cross paths for the first time in weeks, and everything tilts on its axis.

He notices you first, because he hears you thank the barista quietly. It’s not your reporter voice, not the one you put one when you’re interviewing him or his teammate or his fellow athletes. But it’s your real one, and it’s the one he thinks he could hear through a snowstorm.

A tuxedo-clad man exits and suddenly you’re there. You’re wearing a white top, low neck and thin straps covered by a cardigan. You’re sliding coins into the pocket of your jeans and he watches your hand freeze, drags his eyes back up to you, finds you’re already looking.

You look beautiful, he thinks. You put on a lot of makeup for the cameras, and you looked gorgeous, but seeing you like this—caught, almost, in a moment you didn’t expect to see him—you look unbelievably beautiful. He aches with it.

“You look well,” he says first when he opens the café door for you. “What’s your business in Ireland?”

“Acquainting myself with my new coworker.” You wait for him to follow and squint when the sun hits your eye. “We’ve been here three weeks, fly back to London next Monday. You?”

“It does seem weird for me to be here,” he observes absently. “I needed a change of pace, I think. Gear up for the season.” He shakes his half-full cup of coffee. “Where are you staying?”

“Just up ahead.” A slow silence overcomes you both. “Come over. I have beer. I know you can’t be fucked to have coffee.” He laughs and nods, following you through the road and up into a flat—a BNB, if he’s guessing. There’s a tiny landing and then stairs to a wider living area, where you proceed to unwrap the croissant you’d gotten a few minutes earlier. You chuck it into the fridge and produce two bottles of beer in one go.

“Sit,” you gesture to the spot beside you, and he sits himself there. “We can talk. We should.”

You’ve shrugged your cardigan off, and he observes every detail of your exposed skin, the way your hair layers atop it. Right as he opens his mouth to respond, a blond girl enters, rings of mascara caking her eyes and a wine glass twiddled in-between thumbs. She’s talking her head off and only pauses when she spots Charles.

“Hhhh…iiii.”

“Salut.”

“You’re Charles?” She notices how close the two of you are seated together.

“Yes,” he says.

“Charles, this is Robyn—my coworker’s friend. And by extension my friend.” You pat her knee and point to Charles to get them properly introduced. “She leeches off the apartment.”

“You love me,” she retorts, mockingly—but sweetly. “Anyway, sorry to intrude. I was just on the phone with my situationship.” She rolls her eyes. “Does he think I give two shits about goodnight texts? It feels impossible to be romantically satisfied these days.”

Charles grunts. “I hear that,” he says, just to make Robyn feel less excluded. You get up then, to fuck around at the kitchen sink—he suspects you’re not actually doing chores—but you come back with wet hands and you sit yourself across Charles, on the loveseat, instead of next to him.

“The thing is, right,” she gulps wine, “there’s such a thing with dating now,” Robyn says, not missing a beat, her Geordie accent curving round the syllables with a distinctive twang. She stares at the opaque red liquid in her glass, like that will supplement her with more words. “Like a deal. A big deal. Everyone’s making this huge thing out of it, and it’s like, can’t we be in our twenties and fuck around occasionally?” She laughs, a high-pitched, tapered noise.

You shift from where you’re seated, buried into the material of the seat. It’s quiet and beginning to touch awkward, so you speak in a rough voice: “I dunno, I kind of… get it.”

“Oh do you, now,” she responds, voice saturated with wine. “No, it’s—I was joking. Of course you would, you’re absolutely fucking gorgeous, is all.”

Suddenly you feel all too seen and inclined to touch a fingertip to your cheek, feather light. You blink so you won’t feel tempted to meet Charles’ eyes, because you feel them on you. “It’s—thank you, I mean. It’s nothing to do with that. I just always feel it’s impossible to find someone who loves you. I feel like I’m not very lovable.”

“You? You’re bloody fucking likable!” Robyn’s laugh is so disbelieving you find yourself semi-convinced. “You’re a bit intimidating, yeah, but you’re lovable as fuck, babe.”

You double down anyway, voice thin. “Right. I don’t think I’m very good at being… affectionate.”

“Hah. Bull. You’re affectionate with… with Charles! I’ve heard you talk about him to Jane.”

She turns to Charles before you have the chance to defend yourself. To him she asks: “Is she affectionate with you?”

But it’s basically rhetorical. Everyone speculates, sees the way you two bend the line between friendship and romance, the care with which you treat Charles, the way you two understand each other in ways impossible for anyone else in your orbit. Fuck if it’s not overtly physical. Robyn’s known you three weeks and has never even met Charles until seven minutes ago and already she’s sensed the energy, the difference, even if she hasn’t seen you do so much as embrace.

“It’s—” You say and say too quickly. You wind up slowing your speech so you don’t sound too defiant and lean backwards, willing yourself to relax. “It’s… different with Charles.”

“Different?” She repeats, miming every dip and rise of your voice. “Why?”

“We’re close.” You refuse to meet his eyes. “Be—because we’re good friends. I feel… things are… just. They’re different. That’s all, really.” Barely satisfied with the answer you eked out, you cross your arms over your torso like it’ll help shield you from the interrogation going on. Briefly you let your eyes fall on Charles; he’s reclined, eyes all over the place, blinking in quick flashes.

“But you admit it, at least?” She smiles. “That you’re affectionate, I mean.”

“Only with…” you taper off, unwanting to dig yourself a deeper hole. “Right. Sure, yeah.”

“Well then,” she says, eyebrows raising as she dows the rest of her glass. She sets it down on the low wooden table with a clink. “I’ll get going. Don’t let me keep you two from shagging or whatever.”

“We don’t f—shag,” you interrupt, voice sharp. “And you’re not keeping us at all. Me, at all.”

Us sounds so exclusive, you realize as it leaves your lips. Us. It tastes like sour cherries on your tongue, bleeds all over. Robyn gives you a look. In response, you insist on seeing her out, leaving Charles at the sofa, elbows on his knees, hands toying with the neck of the beer bottle. He can make out faint words but he doesn’t try translating or deciphering them, just listens to your muffled voice peek through every few words. You sound amused, also accused, also endeared—a bit irritated. You end it with a laugh.

You clamber back in after a few minutes and find him at the top of the stairs.

“Sorry,” you wave off, rolling your eyes to fend Robyn’s earlier interrogation efforts of. “She’s very strong-willed.” You climb the stairs, your striped linen shorts folding with every movement of your legs. Finally you make it to the top, on the second-to-the-last stair, staring up at him.

“You know,” he says, watching you ascend to the top finally, but you’re still staring upward. “You should know.”

“Should know what?”

“I missed you.”

You inhale and are grateful to find the air is all him. “I missed you, too.”

“In a different way.”

“Me, too,” you echo again, voice quiet. “I missed you. It feels like I’ve missed you all my life.”

He can hear your still, controlled breathing. “Thank you for seeing me. Even when, you know, it’s… hard. You know what I mean.”

“I do,” you say. “It’s never difficult, not…” With you.

He leans down and captures your mouth in his then, like it’s a thirst he’s always needed quenched. You allow it, kiss him back like you’ve needed this your entire life. His lips are chapped, but you don’t mind—Dublin’s cold. He kisses like he’s smiling, like he’s happy, and you think maybe that’s not far off. He moves downward, to your jaw; lower, along the column of your throat, around your collarbones, cornering you against the wall, letting you lean against it.

Charles’ kisses are light and soft, but also heavy, like he’s trying to waste as little time as possible. You sigh, feeling light, feeling ecstatic. He puts two hands on either side of your face, presses your foreheads together, and shuts his eyes.

You feel the divots of his fingers on your hip, your waist, places he’s never touched before. “I’m sorry I left,” you breathe into him. “Back in Spain. In Madrid. I wanted to think about it. About what you said. About everything, about you.”

“I’m glad I found you here, then.”

You tiptoe to kiss him again, because now that you’ve had it once you’re terrified you won’t have it again. In-between kisses he picks you up, cages you fully against the wall, and you breathe shaky little exhales. It builds up quicker and harder; you feel his cock at your hip and shiver, eyelashes fluttering. “Upstairs,” you say breathlessly.

He likes knowing you want this, because he’ll give you whatever you want. He’d fuck you for hours. Have you shaking, eking out moans of his name. He’d whisper praise up and down your ear. He wants this just as much, if not more.

“I want you, so much,” you exhale when he lies you both down on your bed. “So much.”

He tugs your shorts off, then your panties. He doesn’t usually lack self-restraint, but he thinks he’s never felt this much temptation in his life. He’s so hard. He brings one hand to his thigh and squeezes his dick through his pants, but it doesn’t provide him with any kind of relief. You’re needy already, whimpering, mind dizzy. He slides a finger up your slit and watches you screw your eyes shut.

Slowly he sinks in, watches you accustom to the stretch. “Wanted this,” you breathe out.

He thrusts in further, feels your warm cunt stretch around him, feels your breaths get hotter and quicker against his lips. But he takes it nice and slow, so he can feel every little ridge inside of you as you take all of him. “You like it?”

You nod, too dumbed down to speak. “Good girl. Pretty, pretty girl.”

He’s wanted this for so long, fucking you deep and slow and desperate. He thrusts harder, watches you unravel and your hot breaths pick up in pace. He reaches down, smears wetness around your clit as your thighs begin to shake. Your pretty, flushed face is enough to send him into overdrive, your eyes rolling back as he goads you into orgasm.

You’re still cumming around him when he takes a shaky breath, pulls you tightly back against him, and lets the pleasure take over. He fucks you full, rides his orgasm out while you ride yours out—buries his dick all the way inside, so each spurt fills your contracting pussy up.

He pulls out and collapses beside you, pressing his lips to your shoulder before lying on his back. “I’ll clean you up in a minute.” It’s quiet for a second, just you two breathing.

Then: “I did, I did think about it,” you say, voice reedy. “I thought about you.”

“Yeah?” He watches you blink at the ceiling, lets you clasp your hands onto his.

“About me, too.” You open your eyes and stare into the green.

“D’you want this?”

“Believe me,” you say, threading your fingers into his tightly. Your hair’s fussed from the sex. “I do. But—”

His heart drops.

“I don’t want to… I want you to not…” You sigh. “You know, I like seeing you. I like being that. I like knowing I make you feel good. And I want you to know you… you make me feel amazing. Like you and I… we understand each other.” You pause. “Sometimes I feel like you’re the only person who understands every inch of me.”

“Ditto,” he says, and you smile.

“I look up to you, you know? I don’t want you to anchor yourself onto me. I want you to realize that on your own. You’re smart. You’re a great driver with a shitty fucking team I hated reporting on last season.” He laughs shakily. “You know I look up to you. You know… you know I love you.”

“I do. I love you.”

“I always have. It wasn’t… it didn’t always make itself clear, but I always have. And I know I always will.” You smile. “We’ll be in different cities, in separate timezones, but if we survived the years of not telling each other how bloody fucking much we liked each other, this is nothing. When we’ve sorted ourselves out, we’ll know the right time to finally call this what it is.”

He’s never thought of himself as a writer, but his notebooks might beg to differ. Many times you’ve told him yourself that he has an affinity for describing things, especially when he lets go of language as a limitation. He wonders what you’d say if you knew the amount of times he’s tried to write about you. Careful letters or typefaces, in an effort to form a coherent picture of you, the way he sees you, the way he loves you. But he’s so scared he tears the pages off before they get too intimate, too personal, crossing the border from having a crush on you to being in love with you.

For once he’s not. He nods. It’s bittersweet, but it’s a segue to a better ending. He moves a hand over your hair and holds you close.

“You could never be unlovable,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead because finally, he can. “I mean it.”

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader

2K notes · View notes

orionlain · 2 years

Text

𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐝𝐮𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐞 note: I came back from 2 month hiatus go me! anyways ur gonna see me post more on diff fandoms other than horror. sorry bout that guys love u all tho

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐁𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐧

Your window was open for everyone to see, the curtains being put aside, and with that he could easily take a peek at you.

The mirror light bulb shined upon your skin as you were carefully putting your highlighter around the corner of your eyes. The little specks of glitter and your rosy lip balm complimented your looks, and your hair was put in a tidy style. People would assume you were going on a date. A hookup, a party or the bar. But instead, you were staying home tonight. Why? For your job, which was to open the camera and say hello to your followers.

As you finished your foundation and last touch ups, you started setting up the camera in your computer. Browsing from each web page, and quickly announcing that you were going live for all your fans to flock to your stream. You were grateful for your followers, for the money, but as well as them giving the new found confidence you have nowadays. Your outfits had become more flashier, bold and a bit more risque, and he didn’t like that. Your smile lingered on more, and you received more texts than usual, and he didn’t like that. Your new height of fame and laughter was making you less alert. And that was the only thing he liked, knowing that one day you’ll meet your number one fan, which was him.

He couldn’t lie though, the outfits weren’t so bad, he just wished you wouldn’t have to flaunt it to others. Or that pretty gasp you have on camera when you play a horror game, he wished that you were doing that as he put his knife into you instead. He wished, for everything that you were doing, to those stupid men in the same doormat as you, to those girls who were forcing you to party, to those pesky followers who abide by you no matter what you say; was for him instead. And he wanted so much of you. Even if you didn’t know him, and he was there in front of your house right now as you stream, he wanted you to smile for him as well.

It's been months he's been watching you, he knows what coffee you like, what route you take to go to your lecture, what you order in that nearby bakery. He knows who you interact with in real life, your study friends and your family members, he knows which albums you loved when you went to the vinyl store. And he knows what you do at home. You yell and shout at the game, you make niche jokes about your interests to chat. You scroll down in your constant approvals from the masses, you converse to other creators from an entirely different place of the world.

He knows your two lives. And he found it endearing, found it to be so different from all the other victims he had. When nobody knows what you say and what you are in real life, he does. When nobody on the internet knows what location you were at and what you were studying, he does. He found it so special. Of course, he came into the conclusion he was truly your biggest fan. Whether you put that stupid mask on and off, and you become insane from your two lives blurring into another, he’ll have front row seats to such an event. How sweet.

Ghost_F: Nice shirt cupcake.

“Oh Ghostie! You’re too sweet.” You responded in a flush state. To be honest, you always laughed at the nickname you gave to this fan. You gave this name after he became such a vital follower in the past four months. You can say he was rapidly coming close to being your most noticeable one, after he constantly catches up with your streams daily. He was also giving a hectic amount of money, where you had no clue coming from. Well, he didn’t want you to know that money came from the victims he murdered with cold blood. Maybe next time.

Ghost_F: Whatcha doin’?

“Mhm? I don’t know Ghostie. I believe I’m just gonna talk today. How bout it, chat?” That shirt on you was slowly hanging more down as you face more to the screen, he could see that bra he saw a week ago on a night. It looked good on you. Although, it would’ve been better if there weren't eighty people seeing this as well.

And to his annoyance, your followers agreed to the idea. You were just gonna sit there and stay pretty, which he didn’t mind, but he would rather hear your screams again as you play a game. But, you don’t need a horror game for today. He’ll find a way to help you yelp and cry later.

“Alright chat, let's check the timeline for today- Uh.” You turn your head.

There was a knock on the door. Package delivery? You didn’t order anything. You stand up out of your seat and open your door. There was nothing on the ground. Probably one of those annoying college dudes who prank dorms.

“Sorry, chat! There was a knock on the door. But it was nothing! God, my neighbors are assholes.”

You continued to your stream and shrugged it off as if nothing had happened. You casually just scrolled down onto your posts and saw what was happening to the latest news of your favorite games and movies. Small comments back and forth, making you chuckle, but nothing out of the ordinary. Until one viewer sent out a message in chat.

“Don’t you get scared at night? There's like a killer running around in the streets of your state.”

A fan warned. You heard about the murders happening around the state, especially in your town. But you didn’t seem to be phased by it, knowing how much serial maniacs plague this country with states such as Illinois and Ohio, you became desensitized. Though, you didn’t know so much about the recent papers about this prolific guy.

“Well, I don’t know much about him.” Your chat quickly was then filled with information and rumors. Some say he came from the deep levels of hell, sadistic and twisted. Others told how he looked, how he was covered with a ghastly mask and a dark cloak hiding his figure. More talked about the victims, how they were left in a bloody gruesome mess. Word around the street, he goes by the name Ghostface, because of his uncanny mask. All in all, it freaked you out a little. This man is out free swinging his knife and no police were able to catch him. You started getting paranoid.

Ghost_F: You guys are scaring her. Sweets, don’t listen to them.

“Yeah, chat! I don’t even go out at night, I stay home and talk to you guys. And the likely chance of me getting snatched, is pretty low” You giggle it off.

“Anyways, I’m probably not his type.” You were so wrong.

As you were facing the screen and fidgeting around your hair, you swore you something in the corner of your eye. It stopped you in your tracks. You froze in front of the camera. All of your followers were concerned, asking if you were okay.

“Ah, it’s nothing guys. I’m probably just being paranoid after you guys scare me like that!” You resumed your cool facade. You didn’t want them to know that your legs were bouncing up and down in anticipation for what's next. But you soon finally let yourself calm down, telling your brain it's probably some silly animal or neighbor.

You heard a thump. What was that?

Now you were fully freaked out. You jump out of your setup and slowly walk to the kitchen, to get a pan. You tiptoed to your door, and waited for the figure to come here. The thumping of your heartbeat was all you could hear in your ears, and your breath became anxious as you feared for an intruder coming in. No, no not like this.

In a countdown, you open the door once more. It was bare. Nothing, but you could see a hint of a footprint. Dirt? Blood? You couldn’t tell as it was mixed within the colors of the hallways carpet. But something was going on. And yet you close the entrance to your home, shrugging it off to keep up with your stream. You come back to where you reside, and update your followers. Telling them constantly there was nothing wrong. You brush it off, hoping for them to stop trying to interrogate what had happened. You didn’t wanna think about it too much.

Soon, minutes passed and you finally had your fans stop nagging and continued with the next topic. The nerves in your body were finally going down, and you could see yourself sinking into the chair with relaxation. Nevermind what had happened, it wasn’t your problem anyways.

You received a message.

Who was it? The notification went on your screen, and you check on your account on who it was. Hoping it isn’t a scammer or some creep.

It was revealed to be your follower, Ghostie. Hello, it said.

You message him, asking what’s up. No response. You waited for some sort of confirmation or reply after he said a simple hello. Ominous and a little worrying. You sat there, furrowing your brows as you stood by. The stream was finally coming to a close, and there was still no updated news from the man. You sighed, you’re going to leave it be.

Ghost_F donated 2000 dollars.

“Holy shit! Ghostie, what the hell?” He was toying you at this point. This mysterious user was playing mind games with you, and you had no clue why. Just a pitiful gut in your feelings, waiting and responding with surprises. The night was getting even stranger.

Everybody in the chat was shocked. Praising the guy for the huge donation and telling you deserved it. You felt lost of what to say, how do you even reply to such a generous amount of money? If he keeps it up, your entire debt would be gone by the end of the month. And you couldn’t help but feel shameful, thinking about how you didn’t really do that much. You sat around and played games, there was nothing honorable or worth spending a gold bar on.

“Jesus Christ! That’s the biggest donation I-I ever received.” You look at the camera with your face feeling a little flustered.

“How can I make it up to you?” This will bite you in the ass later.

The man privately messaged you. It says;

Go on a call with me, sweets. Stay on live.

Sketchy, but you didn’t wanna ruin this generous deal. You obliged, and you tell your following that you’ll go on a call with him, expressing your happiness and thanks. None of them opposed the idea, they probably wanted to interact with this unknown user who came into the community out of nowhere. Joking about how this bizarre online stranger was going to make you end up like those victims. And you were curious too, who was this guy? Who was Ghost?

His profile was just a default one, no bio, no additional excerpts, just a username. Hesitating at first, the unknown user startled you, it made you draw back and doubt. But you ignored your gut screaming at you to stop. You wanted to make your number one supporter happy, nothing bad right?

You started the phone call. Sitting there, anticipating for him to join.

“Hello?”

“Hey doll.” Wow. His voice was smooth and raspy. You blushed at the sound of his words, it was all rugged and yet deep. It was attractive, especially with that name he called you, you couldn’t help but feel heat rising on your cheeks. And chat wasn’t helping either, spamming in with comments of how nice he sounded, teasing with your sudden reaction, you could feel embarrassment furrowing into your body.

“Um- well I want to say a huge thanks to you man. Thanks Ghostie!”

He chuckled. Don’t do that!

“No problem sweet’s. You can make it up to me.” His comment piqued your interest. What can you do in return for his huge donation? Play a game? Do a silly prank? Or wear a costume? You didn’t know, but as much as bad as it sounded, it made you curious. The deal was so lucrative. It weighed like a mouse leading to a trap, and you were still wanting to know more. About him. About this mysterious man. About this fan that you couldn’t help but have your eyes on. You needed to know more.

“Pfft- Do I have to wear a cute dress or something?” You tease.

“Oh no doll, I wish though,” Huh? “Just a question would do.”

A question? This guy was really strange. Out of all the things he could’ve told you to do, he wanted to just ask you a question. Hell, you would’ve actually worn something for him if you really had to. He disregarded that option though. Something more he had in mind it seems.

“What’s your favourite horror movie?”

Strange, but nonetheless intriguing. You look back into your memory, thinking of the multiple movies you have watched. You always loved the horror genre, so it would be harder to pick out which ones you loved the most. Nightmare on Elm Street, Hellraiser, Texas Chain Massacre, the list goes on, and you didn’t want to pick such a basic answer. Thinking back to your recent watches, you reminded yourself that you watched Halloween. And you enjoyed that movie, so you’ll use that as an answer.

“Mhm, Halloween. The guy with a white mask and blue outfit.”

“Good pick, cupcake. Why though?”

“Well it was a really good movie, it had a lot of scares and had me tense for a little bit and- chat don’t say that!” Oh god. Chat was telling your real honest opinion of the movie, and said you were lying. Laughing and spreading emotes, and told Ghostie that you liked the movie because of the killer. In a drunken state of mind in one of your past streams, you mentioned that you had the hots for Myers. It haunted you ever since, and you forgot that people remember that little fact of yours. You were punching yourself in the inside, dying from all the humiliation.

“You have a crush on Myers?” He asked, chuckling on the side. He was happy knowing he was your type.

“Yeah. God that’s so bad. I-I don’t know how to explain it, I mean he’s a killer!” You giggled in response. Admitting to how hilarious and humbling it is. All the while, the other side of the phone is smiling underneath the mask. Smirking with your cute answer, he can’t help but to awe at your little face cringing from chat nagging on to you. He couldn’t wait for you to realize that he was one too. A dirty, murderous, criminal, who has eyes on you. He couldn’t wait for you to look at him and see your adorable face.

“It’s not that bad, sweets. People love bad boys.” You could hear his grin even if you didn’t see his face.

“Ok, ok, just ask me a different question!”

“Alright, alright. Hm. You got a guy?” Oh christ! You stood aghast, a little shocked from the boldness. In front of viewers too, he didn’t care that you had fanboys or loyal people loving you. Yet, you played along, wanting to tease around as if you were interacting with a beast. You were too curious to give up.

“No, I’m too busy with streaming and school. Are you hitting on me or something?” His laughter ensued, it sounded mischievous.

“I don’t know, am I? Tell me doll, do you think I am?” He was playing with you. Taunting you. You didn’t know how to respond, it made you stutter with your words. You hated it so much. But, god, was it attractive.

“I mean- I don’t know! I think you are!” His laugh became even more boisterous. You were just so fun to tease. He never had a victim like this in a while. Never had a girl like you being so eager and yet so hesitant. It amuses him, your defiance brings him entertainment like never before.

“Oh cupcake! You’re making me laugh.” You giggle back to him. “I just have one more question.”

“Ok, ok. What Ghostie?”

“Where do you live?”

What?

You froze. You didn’t know if you were hallucinating what he just said, but the silence told you otherwise. He means it. Chat became quiet. They were just sending messages with emojis seconds ago, and now becoming fearful as you were. Your mouth went dry, and you could feel your throat perk up.

“I can’t, can’t say that.” Your eyes well up, what do you do?

His breath was becoming noticeable. And his voice changed into a more sinister tone.

“That’s okay. I already know anyway.”

He immediately left. And you look to chat. They were just as puzzled and terrified as you were. Shaken to your core, you end the stream. What just happened? It was supposed to be a joke, but now it ended up as something much more threatening and dark. Due to this, you jumped out of your seat, and ran to the door for the third time.

Checking the peephole, hoping to not see a single being outside your unit. Your hands were shaking. Nervous and petrified, you get away from the entrance again. Your brain was playing tricks with you, or there really was someone else playing with you.

Though, you could hear notifications going off in the background. Your fans were concerned for you. Asking if you were okay, if you were safe, and all you could respond with was a yes. It was a troll you assume. A terrible, scary one to be exact. Until a message popped up onto the top of your screen.

Ghost_F: See you soon.

Alarmed, you press onto the profile. It was deleted. Content unavailable. You were fucking freaked out. You called your friends, hoping to be comforted and gain help. But no response avails.

You sat there on your chair instead. Heart beating to the extreme lengths to the point where you could hear it ringing in your ears. Staring at the screen, looking at the message, trying to see if you can decipher its cryptic tone. Hoping to think positively, you put it aside and think it’s a joke. All streamers go through it, having a creepy encounter with viewers, and this is the same thing. Nothing dangerous is going to happen, it’s just some weirdo freaking you out. Right? Yeah it is. It’s just an offhand interaction.

Sighing, you closed the computer and went to the bathroom. Cleaning yourself up and pondering to yourself, if that was really true. And coming back to your bed, relaxing as you scroll on your phone to remind people that it’s just a troll. Mentioning you thousand of times with concern, and telling you it was a real threat. Although, you ignored it. Was it actually a threat? Probably not, because it’s been hours since the incident, and you were laying down on the bed. Nothing was going to happen.

You rest your eyes, and think ahead of the stupid troll. The creep with a sultry voice. You didn’t wanna mind it. It was just a fake threat after all.

You woke up. You heard a thump within the walls. Probably the neighbor's cat is acting up again. With your foggy brain and eyelids, you travel to your hallway and press the light switch to check what was there. You couldn’t tell if there was something black in your eyes, but you presumed it was nothing. You finally ended up in the kitchen from your hazed walk, and glanced at what was ahead of you.

The kitchen was empty. No creepy dude, it was fake!

You walked and got a glass in your cupboards. Your shorts were slowly sliding up as you tried to stretch to get a cup in the back of your cutlery. Feeling your shirt also slowly lifting up as you grabbed the object. Your feet finally face the ground when you are done getting the glass, and you turn your back around. Incline to having it be filled with water.

“Boo.”

The glass dropped. Forget water. You shrieked in horror. It was a man covered in a mask, cloaked with a black hood. The mask was detailed with a look of horror, eyes piercing hollow black, and wrinkles to enhance the uncanniness.

“You’re even cuter in real life.” No. No. No.

It was the killer your chat was talking about. It was the mysterious man who sent you the donation. And it was the user who threatened you on call. It all added up. You could feel you chastise your brain for being so foolish, for being so damn stupid. For being so curious.

“I-Is that you?” Your voice shakes in fear. He responds by caressing your face, and pining you closer to the counter beneath the cupboards you were just rummaging into. You feel your back slowly leaning back into the furniture, as he goes closer to you.

“Uh huh, it’s me baby.” His pet names made your stomach churn.

“Are you happy to see me, hm? I think you should be. I mean, I saw you blushing just by the sound of my voice, sweets.” He cackles at the end of his sentence. He enjoyed this. He enjoyed the way you looked at him with those pretty eyes of yours, pleading for his mercy. It was better than he imagined.

“You’re- you’re the killer? You’re, you’re-“

“Ghostface. That’s right baby. Awh, don’t tell me you’re terrified? Earlier, you said you had a little crush on Michael. I’m exactly your type. Maybe a little more talkative, but you get the idea sweetheart!”

He was snarky, condescending and overall, fucking with you. You didn’t know what else to muster but a little placid gasp as he leaned into you. He was built entirely different from yours, toppling your body. His hold backed you into a corner, defenseless and armless. It was a recipe for the end of your life.

“Look at you. Trying so hard to look away from me-“ His sharp blade went to your throat. Forcing you to stare at his blank dark eyes. You still resisted. “Don’t be such a bitch. I gave a generous donation, didn't I? Let me tell you, it wasn’t easy killing all of the guys crushing on you and stealing their money.”

“The fuck! You freak-“

“Freak? Rich coming from you. Babe, I’ve seen your search results.” He chuckled harshly. Oh god.

“It’s filled with some of the sickest shit. You love a killer. You know it’s so, so, so bad to like a man like me?”

“And your kinks. Oh sweet girl, you’re just asking to be gutted. And not in a bloody way either.” Even if he was covered behind a whole costume, you can practically hear his maniac smile. You can hear the tone of voice being clouded with figments of lust, and you hated it. But you proved his point, you could feel yourself squeezing your thighs, for some sort of stimulation, friction or movement.

“Mhm, I know what you’re doing sweetie. So needy.” His words were going to kill you before he ever could. It made your heart thump and filled your belly with butterflies. The attention was getting to you. You had to start thinking fast, to defend yourself in some sort of way. But his body and twisted words held you back from doing so. Although, that unwashed pan in the sink may be the trick. With no thought, you swiftly grabbed the cooking instrument, and swung into his head.

“FUCK! You goddamn whore, you’re going to fucking get it!”

You ran. Ran as fast as you could like those final girls in the movies you watch. Ran towards your bedroom, hoping to escape by jumping out of a window. It wasn’t the greatest plan, but breaking your leg out of survival, seems to be so much better than being a news headline. As you hastily open the glass window, sliding it in a painful slow motion, you put your whole body to ensure you flee. Outside was waiting for you, and you could see yourself escape from the monster. Just as you were so close to getting out of the building, you felt the hem of your shirt being tugged.

You tumbled down, hitting the floor. He grabbed you away from freedom.

“That was close. Ha, cupcake, you gotta be the feistiest one yet,”

“Makes you all the more of a treat to me.”

He puts his boot onto your back, stepping on your laying body. He tied you up with scattered ropes and brandished you like a present. You could feel your lungs giving up as he put more pressure into your figure, and your eyes started to tear up out of pain. Whines could be heard out of your mouth and you forced curses to be thrown towards your intruder.

“I warned you, didn’t I bitch?” He took a fist full of your hair, making you have to kneel and look at him. Putting you in a position that was very revealing. Right in front of his crotch. It was embarrassing, and yet your body was heating up.

“Just get on with it. Kill me.” Your comment was then returned with laughter. As if you were the one that’s insane.

“No, no, no way sweets. I have so much more to do with you, y’know?” He lowered his body, titling his head as he was now in your eye range. With his movement mocking you, as if you were a little puppy. “I’m doing a favor for you, baby.” His hands traced onto your legs, dangerously reaching down into inner thighs.

“You wanted a sick man to fuck you, right? I’m going to do that. I’m going to make you scream, making up for all the times that I saw you touching yourself, thinking about a slasher like me fucking you. I’m going to make you cry, making up for all those men who didn’t pound you right.” His gloved hands were now placed upon your pussy. Rubbing you up and down on your clothed slit, eliciting sweet sounds from you. You cried out to him, and he responded by making his fingers go faster.

“I’m going to make you mine. The only fucking thing you’ll think about is me, a murderer.” His touch was fucking you stupid, drool slowly dripped out of your mouth. He took notice of that and giggles ensued from his mouth. You were being so obedient, in such little time.

“Good girl. Look at you! I’m just rubbing your cunt, and you’re whimpering like a bitch. Fuck, baby.” There he finally stopped teasing you, and swiftly plunged his fingers within your shorts. A yelp escaped out of your throat, and he laughed even more. Panting, your hand grabbed his wrist, hoping for him to stop going so rough. It was immediately shut down, by his arm pinning your palms down. Showing how much more power he had over you. Manhandling you like a little toy.

“Ha- Ghos- Ghost-“

“You can’t even form a sentence. Fucking slut.” In a second, he stopped moving. He took his fingers out of your insides and you whined loudly. No no no! You were so close!

“You don’t deserve to cum. Not fucking yet. You will when you’re done your part, sweets.” He stood up, and towered over you. His hands were now fidgeting with the zipper of his pants, rushing for his erection to breathe. His ache lasted for hours, even before he came to visit you. When he was calling with you, he was so fucking close to just whipping his cock out and fisting it up and down with the sound of your voice. His obsession with you was that bad. It made him even more insane, seeing you afar and in hearing you, your flesh drove him crazy. With your ass around, he couldn’t focus on writing reports of his own victims, since his attention was all to you. He hated it. He hated how much he needed to fuck you, or kill you, it didn’t matter either way, he just had to have you. To make up for all the times he was too distracted to kill or report on news.

His dick finally came out of his slacks and hooded cloak. You were a little entranced. It’s been fucking ages since you took one in your mouth, probably because of him killing all of your suitors, and you felt unprepared.

“Suck. And don’t even fucking think of putting your teeth onto me.” You obliged. With your hands out of the questions, you made sure your mouth was able to take it. Slowly, you teased upon the tip and quickly made your way down his length. And with that, he responded with grunts.

“Fuckk, god. You’re so fucking good at this cupcake.” His hands fondled the top of your head. Resulting into him tugging the strands of your hair.

“Your mouth is so tight. Expected from a bitch like you. I can’t wait to fucking gut your pussy.” He rasped out, and soon his hands had moved to his rhythm onto your skull. Forcing you to bob up and down his dick. Your throat was now filled to the brim, and you started choking. He could hear you struggle, you mouthing that you couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t care. He kept on going, and your oxygen was dying out.

But he finally stopped when he realized you were going to actually pass out. Controlling himself from throatfucking you to unconsciousness, mainly because he wanted to hear more of your whimpers, but he considered you lucky. “Breathe babe, breathe.”

Taking a fresh gasp of air, away from the penetrating taste, he held your hair to the back. This probably was the only time he was ‘kind’ to you. And then you quickly went back.

Thrust after thrust, he was coming close. It was noticeable as his hands were becoming more frantic. Craving for a release. All the while you were squirming your legs for some sort of stimulation. The wet pooling onto your panties was driving you insane. You needed to be filled up, bad.

Finally he came into your mouth. The tangy substance filling up the space. Little drops were slowly falling down but he quickly wiped it from your face, looking proud of his work.

“Swallow it for me babe.”

You obeyed.

“Atta girl.”

You got up. But he quickly deflected your action.

“Ah ah. I’m not done yet.”

You looked at him with a furrow. As horny as you were, you still hoped this would be done shortly. But he still continues. Fuck.

“What- I thought-“

“Mr. Ghostface, please don’t tell me you’re gonna fuck me!” He mocked. “C’mon, I like my toys stupid, but you can’t be that fucking dumb babe.”

He pushed you into the bed. You lay upon your sheets catching your breath, and your cute top had a little peak of your breasts. Your face was filled with slob, and your shorts were absolutely drenched. A beautiful sight indeed.

“Wait, before I ruin you, let me just-“

He whipped out a camera from his back pocket.

Click!

“That’s it baby, that’s it.” He constantly rubbed on your thigh as he did a whole photoshoot of your body. Your back arches little by little as he continues to stimulate your skin. And his hand slowly takes something out of the backsides of his pants. A knife. You yelped out of surprise.

“Oh baby, don’t worry. I’m just going to remove your clothes. I’m not going to hurt you,” He snickered. Putting the blade upon the fabrics and ripping it apart to give a pathway. But he intentionally cuts a little part of your skin as he forcefully parts your pants. Allowing him to brand you. “Yet.”

Finally, you were bare. Fully naked and vulnerable in front of this clothed intruder.

“You look even better up close, y’know? Fuck. I just knew you were perfect for me.” His dick was caressing your folds, making you scrunch your eyes in response to control your whimpers. You were so sensitive, that little tears started forming from your eyes. “Maybe I should just fucking take you away. Maybe I should just keep you in some basement, naked and shivering, huh? But knowing from you, you’d probably fucking like it.”

“You’re a whore, you know that?” All you could respond was cute little grunts to his stimulation and comments, “Mhm, but you're my whore.”

He inserts it with no warning. You gasp out of shock. His dick was really caressing the corners of your insides. And you could feel contraction from the penetration. It felt like it couldn’t fit at all.

“Sh-shit! So god damn tight! God-“ Ghostface was spasming from the way you tightened around him. Even with the slow pace, it felt agonizingly strained and painful. But you didn’t mind at all, because of how much it was stretching you so well. Filling up the need and wants in every right direction.

“So- so much!” You whined. You didn’t know if you were pleading him to take it slow, or go rapidly fast, but you definitely wanted him to keep going. To keep pushing you to the brim until you can’t think anymore, fucked with no words left to speak. To keep rubbing up and down till you start screaming, babbling with no thoughts to fill in your head. You needed this so bad.

“I know, I know- fuck, christ doll.” The masked man shuddered upon his words. He was as smitten as you were. The way your hole pulsed and tightened as he went further. The way your face is all flushed and cute as he rammed into you. The way your breasts move up and down as he makes you spasm and moan. Your cute little eyes, struggling to keep wide open from the hazy sex. He really couldn’t get enough of you. He really wanted to you fuck you up more and more.

“Ha- I knew you would fucking like this. You love being a sick freak taking in a murderer's cock. You love it, don’t you, don’t you baby?” His hands were caressing your skin as you whimpered. The latex stimulating you as your mind runs wild on the touches and senses you were feeling. At this rate, you were going to finish, and it couldn’t help when you were contracting more and more.

“Yeah that’s right. I could feel your fucking cunt clenching me, you gonna cum? Hm?”

You gave no response, too dazed to comprehend what he said. He slapped your face for you to snap out of your drunken phase.

“I said, whore. Are you gonna cum around my cock?”

“Y-yes!” He started going faster. Abusing your cunt even more and more. You started gasping for air with the amount of assault he was doing to you. Bringing you to the edge. “Mr. Ghostface I-Im going to-“

“Aww, it’s so much isn’t it? Well too fucking bad. You can only cum when I say so, so fucking take it. Or i’ll fucking slice your throat into two.” He maliciously spat.

“Or are you that desperate that you would rather have me fucking gut you, just so you can cum? I wouldn’t even be surprised.” Laughing ensued after he remarked how pathetic and dumb you look. You were all mindless, continuously just taking in and out like a toy. And the worst part, you enjoyed it, loved it and wanted more and more.

“I’ll be nice this time. Beg for me.”

“Huh?” You muttered, confused and not knowing what he just ordered.

“I said beg. Are you fucking stupid? Beg. Beg for you to fucking cum. I know how much you fucking need it.”

You swallowed your pride. It’s too late to do anything more to save your face. Look at the state you were in. Sweat, back arching and drool slowly forming from your mouth. Nothing is reputable with this. You looked like a whore. And he knew damn well he made you into one.

“Ple-please.?”

“Is that all you got? Beg. Beg fucking harder!” He slapped your cunt in order to elicit a reaction out of you.

“I- fuck- fuck! Please, pleasee! Please let me cum! Please, Mr. Ghostface! Please, I need it! I fucking need it! I need it so bad! I need you to fucking fill me! Just- let me- me cum!” You were babbling at this point. Saying all of this under his will.

“I need it so bad! I need it. I need you! I need you!” You reached for his mask. Showing how terribly desperate you wanted for some kind of release.

“Atta fucking girl.” He put his mask to the side. “Come here.”

He penetrated with his tongue inside your mouth. You whisper and moan, faltering around his body. Your arms were frenzied all over his shoulders. You were needy. And most of all, so fucking horny.

“You wanna cum? Yeah?”

“Uh huh!”

“Go ahead, sweets. Cum around my cock. I’m gonna fucking fill you up.” There it went, his pace going harder and harder. Louder and more frantic.

“Cum for me. Cum for me, pretty. Cum for your fucking killer.”

And you did. With a loud whine you came around everywhere. A load filling you up as you spasm with his dick still in you. Your body automatically faltered on the bed, tired and so fucking full. He pulled out, having your cunt leak out all the fluids. You were absolutely fucking gutted.

Click!

You heard a camera snap. You would’ve protested but your legs would have probably given up if you tried.

“I’m keeping that one baby. Displaying it on the top of my fridge.”

“Here.” As his last ‘gift’ to you, he marked your neck. A purple bruise, prominent and easily noticeable.

“Stream tomorrow, cupcake. And show my fucking mark on you proudly.”

He wanted to make sure he was definitely your favorite follower. Wanted to show everyone one of your fans that you’re his now. And it was completely obvious with how much he had made you into his.

Next time, he’ll do it live. And maybe, he’ll bring some other fans he knows of.

Maybe that son of a bitch, Michael would join in.

“I’m your biggest fan, sweets. Don’t forget that.” He said, leaving you in your bed, while he left your house.

And he believed that you already knew.

#ghostface #danny johnson #danny johnson x reader #ghostface x reader #smut #ghostface smut #dbd killer #dbd ghostface #dbd x reader #scream #scream x reader

7K notes · View notes